I tried to help, fuck did I try. Many times, many times I tried.

But they didn't fucking listen. They replied with spit and rocks.

So I gave up.

I understood, eventually. I wasn't charismatic enough to sway them. To dissuade them of their prejudices.

Why did I try. Who was I kidding.

I'm different. A changeling. Unwanted.

With my fell, "fae knowledge", "accursed brown skin", "foreign cloth", "giant blood" and "daemon gold eyes" that could bewitch holy women into eternal slavery, the fuck would they want me around?

So I left.

My perceived debts to those who saved me were unwanted.

They did not save me out of kindness, I realised, but of fear.

My only true companions in this new world threatened them into it. Who are, ironically, the true fae… I think.

Glowing lights of all colours about the size of my fingernail, capable of shifting a small rock with difficulty, but manipulating and casting illusions with ease.

I've yet to meet anything else to call "fae" or disfavor the hypothesis, so I assume that's what they are. The term Fae is pretty catch all anyway.

The light themselves can't communicate with me further than vague notions and emotions, plus they seem rather… simple.

And so, here I am.

Not fourteen days into a new reality, and homeless on the road accompanied by two dozen floaty light things, clearly of magical nature, with not a fucking clue why.

Ah, did I mention this was medieval times? As in, King Arthur, (or a 'Ing Artur! at least) medieval times. No? Well now you know.

… At least I'm not dead.

…

I think.

Probably?

Possibly.

Perhaps.

…

At least I have the magic bugs- oi.

The bugs were flying away.

Oi.

They swarmed into the treeline to my left. I follow after, breaking into a light jog.

They weren't all that fast, but they could fly. I however, had to navigate a web of exposed roots and loose rocks and underbrush.

I also wasn't the most graceful of men.

Despite the disloyal bugs slow speed, I was still tripping over twigs, stumbling on rocks and awkwardly bumbling through the shrubs, yet there was no sign of stopping from the bugs.

They didn't even transmit humour or background feelings like usual.

They had been my constant escorts, even showing intelligence to browbeat those villagers into healing me.

That they were now completely ignoring me in favour of some unseen destination or calling… hurt a bit.

'It's silly but I'm lonely.'

Suddenly (to me) one of the bugs slowed. The rest continued, but Radish (a radish coloured mote) seemed to fall back to me.

It conveyed slight exasperation.

Radish always stood out in the group. She felt like the big sister for some reason, often herding smaller (than her) motes of light back to the swarm when they strayed to far, bumping into motes that seemed alone, buzzing around the swarm as if to check up on everyone. Never joining a "clique" but welcome to all.

She "boinked" me on the nose, then snuggled in under my jacket collar. Her usual place.

I sniff.

"Thanks Radish. You're rad."

She conveyed what I could only call a huff. Then hurrying, expectation, meeting and good.

Pushing forward, despite being under my collar, in the direction of her compatriots.

Now content in the knowledge not all the bugs were backstabbing, betraying bastards, I calmed my jealous heart,

"Meeting, good? For you?"

Both, all, she conveyed. It felt like she was grouping me and the betrayer bugs together, apparently this meeting would be good for all of us.

'Hmm.'

With my head screwed on straight once more, and Radish's warmth near my neck I was stumbling much less and able to close the small distance between the swarm and I.

'Humph, see if I give you belly rubs now ya disloyal bugs.'

The forest was much the same as when we entered, not especially cramped and with good lighting, but the floor was covered in ferns and hidden roots, I still had no clue where we were headed.

We continued like this for some time, my head on the swivel, the bugs heading steadfast in a single direction, but a few more lights had decided to join Radish under my clothes or clinging to my hair.

Don't sulk.

'I'm not.'

Uhuh...

Was basically how they all went.

I'm pretty sure an hour or two must have passed judging by the movement of the sun, but I'm still not tired.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me in this new (technically old) world is my stamina. My strength has not improved nor has my speed or agility, but for some reason I feel as fresh and energised as I did when I was strolling through the meadows an hour ago.

Like I haven't constantly traversed the forest floor for over an hour.

I theorised it was either something in the air that the other world didn't have, or the bugs were keeping me going with magic.

Honestly not sure which, the question is too complex for the bugs to comprehend and answers too, which is a shame.

Around the three hour mark, and most the bugs now reside on my person, taking turns to lead the way in short spurts of speed, I finally heard something different.

Somethings that were different actually.

'Running water. Neighing of horses. Thudding boots.'

I slow.

'And the murmurs of voices.'

Surprisingly, the leading bugs slow with me.

Don't sulk.

'I'm not.'

Hmmmmm.

"Shut up." I whisper.

Now...

I crouch down, hidden by the underbrush and lean against a tree.

'What to do...'

"Knave! Behindan that tree! Slowly! Unarmed!"

'Never mind'

My bugs conveyed worry.

I briefly assure them.

Slowly, as instructed, a rise and step out from behind the tree. Hands held in front of me, palms empty I face in the direction of the voice.

A group dressed in green, no. Dressed in leather, with green dyed cloth over it, all wearing the classic robin hood hat thing.

'Group of five. Armed. Scout? May be more. People coming over. Shiny? Metal. Knight?'

Three of the five greenies had their bows notched and trained on me, the rear two were surveying the surrounding; for more people I assume.

Big clunky guy, who I can only assume to be a knight can be heard approaching from the direction of the voices, which had quieted. I can see the occasional glints of light over their armour, but they are too far away to make out details.

They seem taken aback by my appearance. Or it may be the shiny bugs on me. Probably a combination of both.

They look less sure, rear two shuffling, front three visibly blanching, but they kept their bows steady.

I spread my arms slightly to show I'm unarmed and unarmored.

"Who?!" Short and clipped, practically barked, but I could hear the slight waver in his undertones.

"A wegferend." I respond with calm I didn't feel. They were armed and a knight- no, two knights were approaching. My first encounter with armed primates was not ideal. Especially since they caught me hiding.

"Why hide?" Good question. But the leader greenie seems slightly more calm. Less twitchy.

Less twitchy is good.

"... You may have been bandits." Good a reason as any.

The knight was near now, greenie seemed to consider it. He eyed the bugs on my head warily however.

Gradually, as the knights approached, greenie and his boys lowered their bows. I too lowered my hands but consciously didn't put them in my pocket as I usually do when nervous.

I could tell the greenies were fighting fidgeting. So was I. I empathise.

With a jerk of his head, lead greenie walked me towards the knights, his boys flanking us and bringing up the rear. All of them adults, all barely as tall as my chest.

'Stop staring at my bum…'

The two knights came in deceivingly long strides, swords drawn and- oh shit…

I blink. Bugs stall. Greenies stop.

'That… is not a normal sword.'

Nor are those designs what I consider medieval.

The craftsmanship on the lead knight's armour and sword were not what comes to mind when you think "history".

No. Those were Fantasy.

Not only that, I recognised it.

My bugs seems to finally react too; fear, blood, beast, dragon.

Angles only machinery should be capable of, bulging, layered shoulder pauldrons, and iron side-skirt thing, pointed metal boots, vivid red accents on much of the otherwise (impossibly) pristine silver metal…

But above all the helm.

Draconic horns adorned it's sides, impractically large, but fucking intimidating. The underside of the horns where it connected to metal was glowing an angry looking red, and finally; they gave off heat.

I don't know why that struck me as it did… but it did.

'Dragon horns are hot. Good to know.'

I knew who it was. She who was fictional. Supposed to be fictional.

"Sir Mordred, 'e claims ta be a wegferend." Yeaaap. I fight the urge to sigh, or cry, or smile, or faint, or do all of the above at the same time.

I feel dizzy.

I ignore lead greenie after the name. I ignore my bugs buzzing. I ignore the green boys kneeling. I ignore everything but those impossibly vivid green eyes peering up at me from through the slits of the female heirs' helm.

'Is this a joke? Because I want to laugh.'

"Hello princess."

My bugs only have a moment to buzz me a warning before a metal gaultney fills my vision.

'Why is it never To Love-Ru or something…'

… … …

"Shut (fill)."

'...'

"Shut (fill)."

'Hmm?'

"Shut (fill)."

'Ah?'

"Shut (fill)."

'...'

"Shut (fill)."

'Wait a sec…'

"Repeat every five times. Simply, shatter once filled."

'Huuuuuuuuuh!?'

"――――I announce."

'What!'

"Your self is under me, my fate(doom) is in your sword. In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer."

'Oi, oi, oi!'

"Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead."

'That's way to fukin fast!'

"You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, arrive from the ring of deterrence, O keeper of the balance ―――"

'What about my backstoryyyyyyy-!'

He was sucked somewhere, somehow, by someone… from somewhere.

…

Even I the narrator am confused.

…

Whatever.

… … …

AN: First posted on SpaceBattles Forums, then FF.net and now here on Royal Road.

Hope you enjoy.