Graybrook Village consisted of a small cluster of weathered cottages built from timber and wattle-and-daub, their thatched roofs green with moss and sagging from years of neglect. The entire settlement sat on soft, muddy ground that left most houses slightly sunken or tilted at odd angles, clearly receiving minimal maintenance over the years.
Even from a distance, Alexander could see everything he needed to know. One word came to mind: poverty.
I observed this village from the castle's vantage point, overlooking both the Mort River and the small valley where Graybrook sits, Alexander thought as he approached. It looked primitive from afar, but up close it appears even more destitute.
This was supposed to be the main village under the Barony of Eisenfurt, yet it looked like this. He sighed aloud, "I was fooling myself to think it might look better up close."
Shaking his head, he continued walking. After about fifteen minutes of steady travel, he finally drew near enough to make out individual details. The journey had exhausted him more than he'd expected. He regretted not bringing his donkey, but doing so would have alerted the castle guards and ruined his escape.
Finally setting foot in the village proper, Alexander made sure to avoid the guards patrolling the area. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, ensuring the hood concealed his conspicuous silver hair, and surveyed his surroundings with amber eyes.
Despite the obvious poverty, the place still held a certain fascination for him. I really do feel like I've traveled through time, he mused with quiet amusement.
The medieval atmosphere was unmistakable. Horses stood tethered to hitching posts while carriages rolled through the muddy streets. Villagers wore simple, earth-toned clothing, their boots caked with mud from the perpetually soft ground. The air buzzed with activity and conversation.
"Carry on! We'll reach the market soon enough!" called out a wagon driver to his passengers.
Nearby, a woman chased after her child who was playing in a mud puddle. "You little pig! Go wash yourself in the Mort River!"
As Alexander walked past, he caught fragments of conversation between two villagers:
"Those despicable tax collectors—I fear them more than bandit raids."
"Aye, I despise them. Life's hard enough without them taking what little we have."
"The church collects taxes too—"
"Shh! At least I understand the church's purpose. We pay so that God might favor us."
"I've been paying for twenty years and still haven't seen any divine favor..."
Alexander suppressed a wry chuckle. Paying money to earn God's favor? Such primitive thinking. God doesn't care about coin.
Though the village seemed small, it proved quite large for someone of his age and condition. With a population of six or seven hundred souls, finding the market without directions would be challenging.
Just then, a splash of cold mud struck his cloak. "Hey, move aside, brat!" shouted a horseman as he rode past without slowing or offering an apology.
Alexander frowned, wiping mud from his cloak. Not even a word of regret, he thought, stepping closer to the buildings to avoid future encounters.
Spotting a wagon heading toward the market, Alexander decided to follow it. As he walked, he examined the impoverished houses more closely. Not a single stone building existed in the entire village—every structure was built from timber, wattle-and-daub, and thatch.
The only stone construction he could recall was the church, which he had observed from the castle's vantage point. That fact alone spoke volumes about the priorities of this world.
It wasn't difficult to understand why. The church was systematically extracting wealth from these honest, hardworking people, using God's name to justify their greed and maintain their power.
The churches in this world don't seem much different from medieval churches in my previous life, Alexander mused. Except the God they worship appears to be different.
From his studies in his father's library, he had learned that this world's deity also created everything in seven days. However, instead of fashioning just two humans like Adam and Eve, this God had created multiple tribes that initially lived in harmony within the Sacred Garden.
Peace lasted until the tribes grew envious of one another, each wanting to claim the entire Sacred Garden as their own.
Thus was born the first war among men. The architect of this corruption was the Evil Serpent, who would later be known as Satan.
The Serpent had whispered temptations of dominance into human hearts, promising them they could claim the Sacred Garden and earn all of God's love for themselves alone.
When God remained silent during the initial conflicts, the serpent escalated its schemes. It convinced the tribes to disobey their creator by eating fruit from the forbidden Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, which grew at the garden's edge.
God had explicitly forbidden them from approaching this tree, warning that eating its fruit would bring death. But the Serpent promised otherwise—that the fruit would make them like gods, granting them everything the world had to offer.
The tribes fought bitterly over access to the tree until the Serpent posed as a peacemaker.
He invited all the warring factions to feast together on the forbidden fruit, claiming they would all become gods and end their conflicts forever. Abandoning all wisdom, the humans ceased their fighting and consumed the fruit.
While God had tolerated their wars, their direct disobedience filled Him with wrath. He cursed humanity and expelled them from the Sacred Garden forever.
That's the Genesis of this world, Alexander reflected. The story isn't vastly different from my previous life's version.
Interestingly, this world also had a Son of God, which explained why the church maintained its symbols. However, instead of the traditional cross, they used an 'X' shape—still representing crucifixion, but with the victim's arms spread in an X formation rather than a T.
The theological similarities fascinated him, though he wondered how much truth lay behind either version of the story.
Lost in his thoughts, Alexander momentarily lost focus and stumbled over a pig wandering freely in the street.
"Blast this pig! It wanders wherever it pleases—come here, you stubborn beast!" A man in his forties with graying hair and simple farmer's clothes rushed toward the pig, then noticed Alexander on the ground. "Careful there, lad. These streets aren't kind to the careless."
Alexander landed hard on his rear, immediately checking that his hood remained in place. Relief washed over him when he confirmed it hadn't shifted.
As he started to rise, something caught his eye—a dirt-covered, oval-shaped object that had fallen nearby. Curious despite his embarrassment, he picked it up and began wiping away the grime.
The farmer was still wrestling with his pig. "Stupid beast, settle down—" But the animal proved surprisingly strong, trying to break free from his grip.
Alexander stared at the object in his hands, and his eyes widened in genuine amazement as he cleared away more dirt. "This! This is a potato!"
Shock colored his voice unmistakably.
Both the man and his pig turned at Alexander's exclamation. "What's all the shouting about, boy?"
"Oink?" Even the pig seemed puzzled, tilting its head curiously.
"This..." Alexander held up the tuber, "This is a pot—"
Before he could finish, the farmer snatched the object from his hands. "Ah, pig fodder! Just what I need to calm this troublesome animal."
In one swift motion, he shoved the potato directly into the pig's mouth.
"Wait! Stop!" Alexander reached out desperately, but too late. The pig had already begun contentedly munching the valuable tuber.
"You fed such a treasure to a pig?!" Alexander stared at the man with gritted teeth and barely contained fury.
The farmer looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Are you touched in the head, lad? You're calling pig slop a treasure?"
He hefted the now-docile pig under his arm. "Listen, boy, that root is fit only for swine. It's cursed food—evil stuff that only this beast here can stomach without getting sick."
Alexander gaped at him in disbelief. Pig slop? He's calling one of the world's most important crops evil food that only pigs can eat?
The comparison struck him like a physical blow. It was as if someone had told a European that bread was poison, or informed an Asian that rice was only suitable for animals. The sheer ignorance offended him more deeply than he had anticipated.