It feels like I've been here for years, even though it has only been a few months. Ivan thought, sitting with the others at what he thought of as the 'inner circle' table. Maxwell and the knights had erected a massive dining hall near the cluster of cabins and bunk houses on top of the ever growing hill near the north end of the Dell. I have met a god. I have met an immortal. I have met knights, and royalty. It's a medieval world. They barely understand math. There's no engineering, no buildings of steel and glass. Just stone and wood. THERE IS MAGIC!!!

He looked around at the different people. Most were dark tan like some of the moors, or the Italians and Jews. There is no strife between the races here. Maybe it's because there are other races? I have heard tell of giants and orcs and goblins. Not the horror stories of my world, but stories of massed armies of them fighting demons on their own. Some are still held as heroes! So different. So much the same.

He stood, deposited his dishes, and departed the mess hall. Wandering a short way down the hill, he reached the barn. His task of the morning was cleaning stalls with a few of the knights. They laughed and talked, telling ribald jokes that crossed the lines of the worlds. Everyone knew he was from another world, and no one even batted an eye. He shook his head. “Sir Paul, it still amazes me that you took my place of origin as fact. No proof necessary.”

“We have many stories of heroes coming from other worlds to help save us from creatures or problems that we are unequipped to deal with.” Sir Paul smiled, “My liege lord is the direct descendant of one such hero.”

“He...He is?”

“Yes. He served with honors alongside the Heretic.” Sir Paul shook his head slightly, “The Heretic is actually responsible for the ascension of the house of Olafsson. He didn't want the title, lands, and responsibility of a duchy, so he gave the whole thing to his friend, my liege's ancestor.”

“...Wow.”

“Exactly.” Sir Paul stopped for a moment and drank some water from a skin, “You keep powerful company, friend Ivan.”

- - -

Ivan saddled a pleasant mare, and rode down into the heart of the Dell. I have a lot to learn. Too much to learn. His thoughts then turned to 'home'. I wonder if my parents have survived. My sister, and little brother. I know the army was recruiting hard. I wonder if they will start conscripting? He shook his head, and frowned. My god in heaven... His prayer went on for a long while.

He reached the end of the Dell after a little more than an hours ride. He dismounted, and stared across the slightly shimmering barrier that kept the snow out. This is magic. This is the work of a god. I guess they are real here. They intervene. Does my god exist? Does he intervene? I guess I will keep faith, and find out when I die.

He walked down the nearby bank to the stream, and cast a line into the water, and fished away his afternoon.

The sun set sooner than Ivan would have liked. He caught his horse, cursed himself for not removing the saddle and tack, and mounted the poor beast. Father would have whipped me for this back home. How could I forget such a thing? He rode back to the slowly growing farmstead.

- - -

Morning was upon Ivan before he even noticed. He sat up slowly, observing his surroundings. Small cabin? Yes. Wood floors? Yes. Table with chairs? Yes. Running water? No. I need to figure out plumbing so I can take a hot shower in the morning. He made his pilgrimage to the privy, cleaned himself up in the double barrels set up for such things, and sighed. “I really need to introduce plumbing.”

“What was that, Sir Ivan?” One of the knight whose name he couldn't remember asked.

“Just thinking that back home, we have running water in our homes. We even have hot water on demand.” Of course that was only in town, in the homes of the rich, but they don't need to know that.

“Oh. Yes. We have that in the castle, and surrounding town.” The knight smiled. “My grandfather was a pipe layer. Good money in that. Grandfather didn't want that for my father, since he was a sickly child, so he was sent to higher school, and became a scribe. Thanks to that, I, as the youngest, was able to become a Paige, and follow the path to knighthood.”

Ivan was stunned. They even have running water. Showers. Do I have anything to add to this world besides martial prowess? Instead of asking out loud, he said, “That is impressive. Back home you had to be born into the nobility to become a knight.”

“Most domains are like that. But not home.” The knight smiled, “Back in the olden days, it was decided that along with the education reforms, there were other changes as well. The army was small, and war with the neighbors was always a possibility, so lord... I forget who, decided to open the knighthood to any who could qualify.”

“That is...amazing.” What is this knights name? Damn it all!

“Sir Reginald!” Someone called, and the knight Ivan was talking to looked up.

“What is it, Sir Peter?” Sir Reginald answered.

“Dame Mary is looking for you.” Sir Peter responded, coming to a halt. “She is apparently displeased with the current state of the armory.”

“Oh no.” Sir Reginald looked worried. “Let's not keep Dame Mary waiting.” He turned to Ivan, “Have a good day Sir Ivan. It looks like I have work to do, and someone to sacrifice to Dame Mary.”

Ivan nodded. “I wish you godspeed on finding the culprit, Sir Reginald.” The three men parted ways. I feel bad for whomever crossed Dame Mary. Even Brandywine is respectful to her. Ivan shuddered. I hope it wasn't one of the children.

- - -

Many days had passed since the incident in the armory, and Ivan was glad he had stayed out of it. Apparently a couple of the younger squires had decided to play a prank on Dame Mary. It had backfired. Now the two squires were up to their elbows in work, doing the worst chores Maxwell could imagine for them. Ivan shuddered. I can't believe he's making them clean the pigsty with trowels. The bird coop was bad enough!

He walked down the hill to the lake. It had grown since he had arrived. He fondly remembered helping Max build the dam. It was so calm then. I could cry, and he would just pat me on the back. I wish things were still that simple. Laughing at Brandy's bad jokes, and her teasing Max. Now? Now it's people, and work. His train of thought derailed, then reassembled itself. I...I don't need that anymore. I...I can remember their faces and not cry. I don't wake up in my sleep, screaming! He stood there absentmindedly 'looking' at the dam for a while, his mind's eye replaying the last battle. I am sad. But I don't panic any more. Is this what healing looks like? He smiled.

- - -

Ivan spent many hours every day training with the war scythe. The ever so slightly curved handle, and offset angle of the blade, somewhere between the classic angle of a scythe blade, and a polearm (A/N: the angle is around 150* off the shaft of the weapon.) He had gotten to the point that he could both block arrows with the flat of the blade, and cut them out of the air. He could reap a single blade of grass from a clump, even if the blade was on the other side of the clump from him. He practiced with the knights using a wooden training version of the scythe, but only won about half the matches.

His favorite times of practice were the weekly trips out of the Dell, to his private target range, where he shot his weapons from home. He had finally figured out how to turn the enchantments off, so hitting the targets was just him, his breath, and his skill. Breathe. Slowly engage the trigger. Smooth pull, don't jerk it. He slowly breathed in and out for a time, laying in the snow several hundred feet from his target. He exhaled, and slowly pulled the trigger. “Bang” went the rifle. “Ping” went the old breastplate that was swinging from a tree branch, that he used for a target,.

“Nice shot.”

Ivan jerked up, and spun towards the voice. It was the cleric of...Gone-Dish? “Hello, father?”

“I'm sorry to sneak up on you like this, but I wished to speak with you without the others hearing us.” The cleric said.

“Okay. Speak your mind.” The sudden adrenaline spike from the surprise started to recede from Ivan's blood.

“My god has asked me to speak with you.” The cleric started, “He bid me to give you his blessings, and tell you that your road will soon be hard, but, should you succeed, you will be given a choice. To return to your homeland, or to remain, and live here,”

“Thank you, father.”

The cleric of Ghondish departed for the Dell, job done for the time being. Now what the hell is a 'Karen'? He sighed, shaking his head. And why does he keep asking?