Chapter 3: House of Zrinski

When Peter awoke, he was not on a grassy coastline with a dead horse crushing him. Quite the opposite in fact. He first noticed the wooden canopy that towered over him in his woolen, oversized bed. It had intricate wood carvings on it, showcasing knights in battle slaying men and beasts alike. Stone walls surrounded him, with a flowing vista from the window that painted a handful of docked ships dotted across the coastline, with a sigil of a bear framing the castle’s interior view into the outside world.

To his right, sat a stranger all too eager to greet him. Peter would’ve jumped, if he had the energy. While his legs still ached from the fallen beast that crushed his lower half, he could count his blessings that they still sprung into motion upon instinct. The man who sat beside him looked to be in his sixties, with a graying beard neatly trimmed and wore simple white robes with a brown cloak. His balding head contrasted with the wispy black and white whiskers that still shot down from the sides of his face.

“My Lord, you took quite a fall, it appears you’ve changed in more ways than one since you last returned home.”

“I-I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. My name is Peter-”

The old man laughed. “You’ve been associating with foreign barbarians for far too long, Lord Petar Zrinski, Vojvoda of Zemliharos & Preveyor of Silver. Though I don’t recognize the woolens you washed up in. Are they becoming favored in the Courts West of here?”

“I don’t know what west of here is, I don’t know you and I don’t know where I am. You’ve got to help me-”

“-Roko, High Priest of Zemilharos, your grace.” He sighed and looked out the window. “It appears the worst assumptions about your condition are right, especially when being found at a crossroads no less.”. He looked down at his lord. “No matter, you need to make an appearance at court, curse or not.”

“Curse, how in the hell-”

“Don’t blasphemy, your Grace, especially in your state. You need not understand what’s happening, that’s what your advisors are for. A Lord’s job is just to put on an air of confidence. And that you must, for many other houses have been vying in your absence-”

“I don’t understand a goddamn-”

“Blasphemy again, that is the last time today, understood?” The fire in his eyes gave Peter enough of a reason to stay silent. “They who that shan’t be named are believed to have raided the docks again. Three of our men were sucked dry of their blood. With you getting fatter and taller than when I saw you last, the last thing our Lordship needs is the people thinking you’re a part of it. Get dressed and I will gesture to you when you should speak in court, do not speak unless directed to, do you understand?”

Peter nodded, he figured he wouldn't get anywhere with this Roko, but perhaps when out of his bedchambers, maybe someone could help him to make sense of this. Maybe his boss decided to pull some elaborate prank on him? No one else would care enough to do something like this to him. But even then, why go through all this effort? Just to try and get him to believe he was some long lost Nobleman in a medieval land? The figure he saw in the parking garage, there had to be some reason behind it.

Roko now stood at the bedchamber’s entrance and closed the door behind him, giving his Lord solace within his room. The stiffness Peter felt in his back and legs ruled out the possibility of this being a dream. The whole affair would make too much sense otherwise. He walked over to his wardrobe and saw his suit folded up. From within his jacket pockets, he found the envelope and his smartphone tucked away. While the phone still turned on, there wasn’t any wifi or cell connection. Not that Peter expected any, but figured he’d end this here and now if he did. All that was left was the envelope.

Peter figured now was as good of a time as any to find out what it said. What he pulled out of the envelope was a letter with a wax seal bearing the same bear sigil that was in his room. All it said was, “The truth will be revealed in time, say our House has been purveying silver for three generations in court, and that you have returned from the peninsula of Melino and fostered good terms for exported silver, trust in yourself and only yourself.” Peter couldn’t help laughing over the whole thing. What was left for him to do? Whatever sadistic turn of events the architect had in store for him, looked like he’d be along for the ride whether he liked it or not. He then looked at the attire he was expected to wear.

The shirt and vest were identical to the one Peter had saw his doppelganger wearing what must’ve only been a day before. He went along with the madness and tried his best to put on the dwarfed clothing. Everything was around a foot too short for his arms and legs and a size too small. He could feel his midsection constricting under the pressure of the linen, and he wore his vest open to avoid any of the buttons from popping off it. His silver rings were not much better, and while he could get the largest one onto his pinky, his smaller ones were of no avail on his bloated fingers. With his cape added, he felt closer to a jester than a nobleman, but what else was new? He exited his bedchamber to face whatever other mockery the day had in store for him.