The Weight of Knowledge

Ethan awoke to the sound of distant bells ringing through Cordoba City. Sunlight streamed through the cracks in his shack's wooden walls, casting dim rays over the rough straw mattress beneath him. His body still felt weak, but the feverish exhaustion from the day before had lessened.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He let out a long sigh.

"This is my life now."

The thought had settled in last night, but now it felt more real. There was no futuristic lab, no sterile white walls filled with monitors, no colleagues discussing the latest advancements in energy physics. All of that was gone. In its place was a world where science took a backseat to faith, and knowledge could get you killed.

Yet, the scientist in him refused to give up. If he wanted to survive, he needed information.

Pushing himself up, he grabbed his ragged cloak and stepped outside, determined to learn more about Cordoba City and its secrets.

The city was already bustling. Merchants called out prices, people hurried through the streets, and the scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the ever-present stench of unwashed bodies.

Ethan walked slowly, absorbing everything. He passed market stalls, scribes selling hand-copied books, and priests standing on stone platforms, reciting passages from holy texts.

A wooden signpost caught his eye near the entrance to the market. Words were carved into the worn-out surface, some letters half-erased.

He squinted. Nothing made sense.

"Damn it. I can't read."

The realization hit hard. As a scientist, he had once consumed thousands of research papers. Now, he couldn't even understand a basic street sign.

Frustrated, he picked up a discarded scrap of parchment from the ground. The ink was faded, but the symbols were clear. A different alphabet, completely foreign.

"So I'm a genius scholar who's now as literate as a five-year-old. Wonderful."

He needed to learn, and fast.

The sound of church bells rang again, but this time, it was different—louder, more commanding.

Ethan noticed a crowd forming near the city square. Curious, he moved toward the gathering, standing at the edge where he could observe without drawing attention.

In the center of the plaza, a man was tied to a wooden stake. His robes were tattered, his face bruised, but his eyes still burned with defiance.

A high-ranking priest in white stood before him, reading from a scroll.

"This man, Lucius of Redgrave, has been found guilty of heresy against the divine order! He has practiced forbidden magic, seeking to unravel the mysteries that only the gods may control!"

The crowd booed and cursed, some throwing rotten fruit.

Ethan's stomach twisted.

A group of Inquisitors in dark armor stood nearby, their hands resting on their weapons. At a signal from the priest, one of them stepped forward with a lit torch.

The flames took hold quickly. The accused mage clenched his jaw, suppressing a scream as fire licked at his feet. But soon, the pain became unbearable.

The agonized screams that followed made Ethan's blood run cold.

The crowd cheered.

The execution was over in minutes. When the flames died down, only charred remains and the stench of burning flesh remained.

Ethan turned away, bile rising in his throat.

"This isn't Earth. This isn't science. This is a world where knowledge can get you killed."

For the first time, he truly understood the danger of seeking forbidden knowledge in this world.

But even as the thought chilled him, another voice inside him whispered.

"If they fear knowledge this much... how powerful must it be?"

Despite the horror of what he had witnessed, Ethan had no time to dwell on it. He needed food, and for that, he needed money.

He made his way back to the library's backyard, where he had scavenged the day before. The area was quiet, and secluded, with stone walls covered in ivy and stacks of discarded parchment littering the ground.

He sifted through the waste pile, looking for anything he could sell. Broken quills, scraps of leather bindings, half-ruined pages...

Then, an idea struck him.

Instead of selling all the parchment scraps, he kept a handful. Even if he couldn't read them now, having samples might help him learn.

Stuffing them into his cloak, he gathered the rest and left.

The market was just as noisy as before. Ethan approached a merchant who specialized in second-hand goods.

The old man eyed the junk with amusement. "Back again, kid? Found anything valuable this time?"

Ethan placed his haul on the counter. "Old parchment, broken quills, some leather scraps. Worth anything?"

The merchant chuckled. "Barely. But I'll give you... five copper."

"Five copper? That's it?" Ethan forced a smile. "Seven."

The merchant snorted. "Six."

"Deal."

It wasn't much, but it was enough. He bought a chunk of stale bread and a cup of watered-down ale, just enough to sustain himself for another day.

As he walked back toward his shack, he passed the blackened remains in the city square—the burned corpse of the executed mage.

The smell still lingered.

Ethan sighed, shaking his head. "Died for knowledge, huh? I feel you, buddy."

The absurdity of it all made him laugh dryly.

"I was burned alive by my own experiment. You were burned alive for experimenting with magic. Guess we're not so different."

With a final glance, he walked away, leaving the grim reminder behind.

That evening, Ethan sat at his rickety wooden table, a dim candle flickering beside him.

Before him lay the parchment scraps he had saved.

He traced the symbols with his fingers, trying to make sense of them.

"If I want to survive, I need knowledge. And to get knowledge, I need to read."

He strategized:

Finding a cheap teacher? Unlikely.

Observing market signs and price tags? Possible.

Slowly matching words to objects? A start.

This was his first real challenge in this world. And he would overcome it.

Ethan smirked.

"Alright, medieval world. Let's see who wins—your ignorance, or my intelligence."