WARLORD Chapter 1
This is a non-erotic isekai adventure (stranger in a strange world). Thanks to my editors, Alianath Iriad and Lastman416, for their advice and corrections. Any remaining errors are mine.
I was tired. Once again, I'd got caught up in my latest 'Defence of the Realm' campaign, and completely lost track of time. It was almost 2:45 AM. In my
own
defence, the game was absolutely addictive. It had a complex military-economic-technology system, which was deceptively easy to learn, but quite difficult to master. There were multiple possible paths to victory.
DotR (as it was known in the community) also featured cutting-edge graphics, riveting game play, and incredibly immersive diplomacy, involving complicated negotiations with beautifully-rendered AI avatars (voiced by actors), which also involved marriage alliances. I'd been tempted more than once to consummate an alliance for purely visual or auditory reasons (abetted by my imagination), rather than practical power politics.
I also played Conquest, which was PvP (player versus player). You could wage war or form alliances with up to six other people. That one was a bit less immersive, but very satisfying to win.
Okay, enough nerd talk. Again, in my own defence, I've spent countless hours listening to my family and co-workers talking sports. Honestly? Alabama beat Where's Waldo State 73-3? Athletes making more money than the staffs of entire hospitals? Baseball might be the worst. I couldn't give a rat's ass if the outfielder prevented a home run by catching the ball at the fence. 162 games in a season?
Then
playoffs? All on the way to a supposed world championship - that will be fought out again a year later.
Every
year. The Olympics or the soccer things have a better claim to my attention.
Yeah, sports is the obsession of the majority. Good for them. There are millions of people who watch teams play tag. Auto racing. Cooking shows. Talent competitions that inevitably remind me of high school. Property porn. Whatever. Don't judge my hobby. I'm not hurting anyone (except myself, with the late hours).
I like computer wargames. Strategy games. Chess doesn't get my motor running, but Global World Domination? Empires in Arms? Games have come a long way since Monopoly and Risk.
You may roll your eyes at this point (if you haven't done so multiple times already). I'm only telling you all of this because these games led directly to the most incredible adventure of my mostly uneventful life.
I saved and closed the game, and then opened my mail. It's a weird little idiosyncrasy of mine. I read my email
after
gaming. If I did it first thing in the morning, I could easily slide down the rabbit hole and spend hours answering messages instead of getting started on my working day. Doing it this way, at this time, was a sort of control mechanism for me.
When you're a natural procrastinator, you either fall far behind in your work schedule, or you make a serious effort to avoid screwing around. I'd adopted James Bond's mantra: 'Business before pleasure'. If I got my work done promptly, there would be plenty of time for gaming, without the annoyance of unfinished tasks hanging over my head.
I could also see emails from my supervisor, which often let me know that I was looking at a heavy workload the next day, or some crisis that needed immediate attention. It certainly let me know if I had to set my alarm and get up early, or if I could maybe even sleep in for an hour.
I shut down my PC, turned off my three monitors (I really only need two), and went to my tiny bathroom to brush my teeth. Lights off. Into bed. I resisted the urge to review the last few actions of my campaign, and concentrated instead on clearing my mind. Sleep was slow in coming, as usual, but exhaustion helped me keep my eyes closed.
I awoke to the dulcet tones of my alarm (programmed to play 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead' from The Wizard of Oz). Without a second thought (or even a first), I tumbled out of bed.
My room was far too bright. Lacking a window to the outside, there was no way that my bedroom could be flooded with sunlight. But there it was - except that the source of the light seemed to be just outside the doorway. Was it coming from my main room (the atrium, living room, den and kitchenette combined)?
There was no light that powerful in there. I didn't own a light that powerful. I cautiously stuck my head out the doorway. All I could see was light. That wasn't right.
Just to clarify: I wasn't drunk, or hungover, and I don't do drugs. So this had to be some kind of non-pharmaceutical hallucination, or a dream.
I sat back down on my bed, and reached for my phone. It was dead, of course. Deader than a door nail. Yet I always plugged it in to recharge while I gamed. Had I not done that last night? I must have. But now I couldn't google 'How can you tell if you're dreaming?'.
Sometimes, I can be very pragmatic. With my phone dead, it wasn't going to do me any good to sit on my bed naked (and trust me, it's a sight you don't want to see). So, finally, I put on my work clothes: track pants, comfortable bunny slippers, and a faded old Foreigner t-shirt. Ah, the joys of working from home.
I wasn't sure, though, if I was ready to face the light. And there was one morning ritual I wasn't going to be able to avoid, dreaming or not: I had to go. Do people pee in their dreams? Do they shave? Because that's what I did next.
Then I realized that I'd procrastinated enough. It was time to walk towards the light. I experienced the most incredible feeling, as my entire body shivered - except that the sensation began in my scalp, and only reached my feet a full two seconds later.
I didn't expect to stub my toe - or to fall forwards, off-balance. I landed heavily, on my knees. It hurt a lot more than it should have. But then, I hadn't fallen on my well-worn carpet. Instead, I barked my knees on what felt like a block of stone.
Yes. I literally almost landed on my face. I was on my hands and knees on a hard, semi-smooth stone floor.
For some reason, my initial reaction was that I'd just gone through a Star Trek transporter. I knew right away that I wasn't in my apartment anymore.
Both of my knees were probably badly bruised. My dignity took a bit of a hit, too, since I also realized that I wasn't alone.
I was in a completely different room - or chamber, I suppose - which looked medieval: it had stone walls, partially covered by tapestries, with narrow windows. There were torches in sconces set at intervals, though unlit at the moment.
There were three women standing a short distance away. They wore long dresses, covered by outer robes of a heavier fabric. Brocade? The one in the middle stood a little in the advance of the others.
She was evidently the oldest. Her long, thick, dark brown hair was partially pinned up on either side of her head, giving her the appearance of wearing a crown, with long, loose braids hanging over her shoulders. Her outer robe was of burgundy and blue, with gold trim. She wore a blue scarf as well.
To her right was a younger, shorter girl. She had hair so black that it was practically blue. I noticed that her robes were all blue, trimmed with gold. She had huge brown eyes, and very fine features.
On the other side was a taller woman, whose blue robes were partially covered by a piece of scale armour, made of leather and metal. Yeah - I can identify that sort of thing. This third woman was handsome, rather than beautiful, and had blue eyes. I also noted the fact that her armour looked pristine; it wasn't entirely decorative, but she hadn't seen any fighting in it.
The older woman in the centre nodded her head.
- "Welcome, Warlord." she said.
Okay. I have to admit that I knelt there like an idiot. My mouth was probably open. Remember that I was wearing track pants (overdue for the laundry), fuzzy slippers, and a faded concert t-shirt more than two decades old. No, it wasn't my best look.
And just so you know: my best look wasn't all that great anyway. I'm tall, at 6'4", but overweight. I may not be morbidly obese, but most people would describe me as big and fat. And ugly. I don't kid myself. My last girlfriend was nine years ago, when I was 16. Okay, she was also my only girlfriend.
These were definitely strange thoughts to be having as I knelt like a doofus on a stone floor in front of three beautiful ladies in Medieval costumes. The first thing that occurred to me to do was to stand up.
- "Umm... hello. May I ask where I am?"
- "You are in Dahlia." said the older woman. She must have seen the look of simple incomprehension on my face. "In the Decapolis. I am Rona Hadyk."
Decapolis. Deca for ten, and polis, the Greek word for city. Or city-state. But she wasn't speaking Greek. Her unaccented English was perfect. That is,
relatively
