The cold air stung my bones, bringing with it the scent of wet earth and the smoke of distant fires. I pulled my simple, thin wool cloak tighter around me, trying to ward off the shivers that would not subside. Around me, the hustle and bustle of the Oakhaven market beat like a heart that never tired. Vendors hawked their wares in hoarse voices, children ran between the legs of adults, and occasionally the clatter of horses pulling the carriages of more prominent nobles broke through the crowd.
This scene… felt so real. Too real to be a dream.
A few days ago, I was just an ordinary man with a boring routine in the 21st century. Laptops, instant coffee, and the traffic jams of Jakarta were an inseparable part of my life. Then, everything went dark. A stabbing pain, like thousands of needles stabbing my entire body, and then… I woke up in this place. In the middle of the crowded market of a small town that was clearly not part of my world.
At first, I thought I was crazy. Maybe this was just a delusion caused by stress or something. But the stench of the barn that stung my nose, the rough texture of the stone beneath my feet, and the indifferent gazes of the villagers who occasionally bowed, all felt so… physical.
Then, the memories came. Not my own memories, but fragments of the life of a man named Lord Alaric Edgewood. A minor noble from a remote region, the owner of a few meager farms and a few loyal followers whose numbers could be counted on one hand. He was not an important figure, even among the other nobles. His name was rarely mentioned, and his wealth was far from luxurious.
And herein lies the oddity. I know the town of Oakhaven, though only as a name in vague memories. I know the names of the royal families that occasionally come up in the conversations of traders. I know about the legend of the Witch of the North who lives in a remote tower on the border of the King's domain. All of this… I know from a fantasy novel I once read a few years ago. A novel with a title I vaguely remember, about a princess who has a hidden magical talent.
Unfortunately, I am not the princess. I am not a witch with an ancient bloodline. I was just Lord Alaric Edgewood, a minor noble whose existence was barely significant in the complex political machinations of the kingdom. I was a mere extra with a title, someone who might only appear occasionally in the background of a court scene or be mentioned in a list of nobles.
This was insane. Absolutely insane. Me, a modern man, trapped in the body of a minor noble in a fantasy novel. A world of hidden magic, power struggles among the nobles, and threats from outside the kingdom that might be even more terrifying than I had imagined.
What was I supposed to do? Returning to my world was out of the question. So was I supposed to live out the rest of my life as Lord Alaric, a minor noble on the margins? Spending my days tending to the crops and attending the occasional boring banquet, then dying without leaving a significant inheritance?
No. There was something inside me that resisted this fate. Maybe it was because I knew a little bit about the plot of this novel, even if only vaguely. Maybe it was because my status as a minor noble gave me a little freedom and access that a commoner didn't have. Or maybe… there was a small hope that I could use my position to change something.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the cool air that carried the scent of country life. In the bustling market of my own town, I might not be much of a household name. But this minor noble title was a stepping stone.
From now on, I was no longer just Lord Alaric Edgewood. I was me, trapped in the role of a minor noble of little importance. And I would find a way to write my own influence on the stage of this world of magic and kingdom, even if I was only a minor noble far from the center of power.
The question was… could a minor, forgotten noble change the course of the story that had already been written?