CAPITAL BOUND

Marcus woke to the familiar sounds of his dorm room—Tyler's mechanical

keyboard clicking steadily, the distant hum of the heating system. For a moment,

he felt disoriented, his mind still processing the medieval camp, the weight of

a sword in his hands, the rhythmic pace of marching.

He sat up slowly, checking his phone. 2:47 AM. The room was dark except

for the glow of Tyler's multiple monitors, where his roommate was apparently

deep in some kind of late-night gaming session, headphones clamped over

his ears.

The transition between worlds always felt jarring, but tonight it seemed

particularly stark. In Valdris, he'd been planning business ventures with

enhanced strength and magical abilities. Here, he was a college freshman

struggling to pass chemistry.

But the midterm season was over, and Marcus realized he felt more relaxed

than he had in weeks. The pressure of exams had lifted, and while his

grades weren't stellar, he'd managed to avoid complete disaster. More

importantly, he'd gained valuable insights into what the capital might

offer.

He reached for his laptop. If he was going to help his Valdris family succeed in

Drakmoor, he needed to understand what kinds of opportunities a medieval

capital might provide.

He started with basic searches: "medieval city economics," "guild systems,"

"urban markets in pre-industrial societies." The information was fragmentary

but useful—cities were centers of trade, specialized crafts, and knowledge

exchange. They were also places where innovation could spread quickly if

it met genuine needs.

Marcus opened a new document and began making notes:

*Potential Products for Drakmoor:*

- Improved soaps and cleaning products

- Better construction materials/techniques

- Food preservation methods

- Simple tools and devices

- Writing materials and paper

*Tom's Strengths:*

- Physical abilities

- Loyal and trustworthy

- Quick learner for practical skills

- Natural protection/security capabilities

*Capital Advantages:*

- Larger market for products

- Access to raw materials through trade

- Guild connections and business networks

- Proximity to scholars and academy resources

He spent the next hour researching historical examples of successful

innovations in medieval cities. The printing press, improved metallurgy,

architectural advances—all had spread through urban centers where skilled

craftsmen and merchants could recognize their value.

Tyler's gaming session finally ended, and he pulled off his headphones,

stretching dramatically. "Yo, Marcus. You're up late. Everything okay?"

"Just doing some research," Marcus replied quietly.

"Research? Dude, midterms are over. You're supposed to be celebrating,

not studying." Tyler rolled his chair over, peering at Marcus's screen.

"Medieval economics? Are you creating a D&D campaign?"

"Something like that," Marcus said, which wasn't entirely a lie. "I'm

thinking about what kinds of businesses would work in a medieval city."

"Oh, like economic simulation stuff?" Tyler's interest peaked. "That's

actually pretty cool. I've seen some streamers do medieval merchant

roleplay—it's surprisingly complex."

"Any ideas what would be most profitable?"

Tyler considered this seriously. "Well, in most games, the key is finding

something everyone needs but nobody else is making efficiently. Like,

basic necessities with improved quality or convenience." He paused. "Why,

you thinking about writing a business management game?"

"Maybe," Marcus said, saving his notes. "Just exploring possibilities."

"Cool. Well, if you need any help with game mechanics or market research,

let me know. I've got connections in the indie game community."

After Tyler returned to his setup, Marcus closed his laptop and lay back

down. The research had been helpful, but more importantly, it had given

him confidence in his plans. The capital would offer opportunities, and

with Tom as his partner, they could build something worthwhile.

In a couple of days, they might reach Drakmoor. Marcus intended to be ready.

The next few days passed in a blur of relative normalcy. In the modern

world, Marcus caught up on his coursework, spent time with Jake and Tyler,

and gradually felt his stress levels drop. His midterm performance had

been better than expected, and for the first time in weeks, he wasn't

panicking about immediate academic crises.

In Valdris, the caravan continued its steady march toward the capital.

The days fell into a comfortable rhythm—walking, helping other refugees,

sharing stories around evening campfires. Marcus found himself growing

stronger physically and more confident in his ability to handle whatever

challenges awaited them in Drakmoor.

But it was the morning of the sixth day that everything changed.

Marcus woke to the sound of horns echoing across the valley and the excited

murmur of hundreds of voices. After eighteen days of walking, the evacuation

column had finally reached their destination.

"Marcus!" Big Tom's voice boomed with excitement. "Come see! It's the biggest

thing I've ever seen in my life!"

Marcus rolled out of his bedroll and stumbled to his feet, his body automatically

adjusting to the pre-dawn chill and the familiar aches of sleeping on the

ground. Eighteen days of travel had hardened him in ways he'd never expected.

His hands were callused from helping with wagons, his legs stronger from

constant walking, his shoulders broader from carrying supplies.

But nothing could have prepared him for his first sight of Drakmoor.

The capital city was nestled against a semicircle of towering mountains,

their peaks snow-capped and imposing like the fortress cities from his

literature classes. The city itself sprawled across the valley floor,

protected by mountains on three sides and massive stone walls on the fourth.

The walls rose impossibly high, punctuated by towers that seemed to scrape

the sky itself.

Behind the walls, Marcus could see layer upon layer of buildings climbing

up the mountainside in terraces—some built of gray stone, some of timber,

some made from materials he couldn't identify from this distance. The

architecture seemed to flow with the natural contours of the mountains,

as if the city had grown organically from the rock itself.

And the size. The sheer, overwhelming size of it all.

"How many people live there?" Marcus asked Sister Korra, who had ridden

back to check on the rear guard.

"Perhaps six hundred thousand souls within the walls, another hundred thousand

in the outer settlements." She noted his expression with amusement. "I

take it Millhaven didn't prepare you for such scale?"

"Millhaven has maybe three hundred people," Marcus said weakly. "This

is..." He trailed off, his mind trying to process what he was seeing.

From his modern world perspective, six hundred thousand people wasn't that

impressive—Chicago alone had nearly three million. But seeing such a

concentration of population in a medieval setting was staggering. The

logistics alone must be incredible: food distribution, waste management,

water supply, governance.

And the opportunities...

"Sister Korra," Marcus said slowly, "what do people do for work in a city

that size?"

"Everything imaginable. Craftsmen, merchants, scholars, entertainers,

builders, scribes, smiths, bakers, brewers..." She studied his face. "Why?

What are you thinking?"

Marcus was thinking about soap. About improved agriculture techniques.

About writing systems and basic hygiene and all the small innovations

that had impressed people in tiny Millhaven. In a city of six hundred thousand

people, how many would pay for better soap? How many merchants might want

improved record-keeping systems? How many problems existed that could be

solved with knowledge from his modern world?

"I'm thinking," Marcus said carefully, "that a city this size must have

challenges that a village never faces."

"Indeed it does. And opportunities as well, for those clever enough to

see them."

The column began its final approach to Drakmoor's gates as the sun climbed

higher. Marcus walked beside the wagons, watching the city grow larger

and more overwhelming with each step. The walls were even more massive

than they'd appeared from a distance—fifty feet high and thick enough

for walkways along the top. Guards in gleaming mail watched their approach,

but without hostility. This was clearly a planned arrival.

"Look at all the people," Big Tom said in wonder.

Even outside the walls, the activity was incredible. Merchant camps,

temporary markets, travelers from dozens of different kingdoms judging

by their varied clothing and equipment. Marcus heard languages he didn't

recognize, saw goods he couldn't identify, smelled foods that made his

mouth water despite their alien spicing.

"Overwhelming, isn't it?" Commander Cain said, appearing beside them on

horseback. "Your first time seeing a true city?"

"Yes, sir." Marcus tried to take it all in. "It's incredible."

"And profitable, for those with the right ideas." Commander Cain's tone

was casual, but Marcus caught the underlying message. "The capital rewards

innovation, Marcus of Millhaven. Particularly the kind that solves practical

problems for large numbers of people."

As they passed through the gates, Marcus felt culture shock hit him like

a physical blow. The noise was incredible—thousands of voices, wagon wheels

on cobblestones, hammers ringing from workshops, animals protesting their

treatment. The smells were equally overwhelming: food, smoke, leather,

metal, spices, and the unmistakable odor of too many people living too

close together.

But beneath the sensory overload, Marcus recognized something familiar:

the energy of commerce, of people buying and selling and making and building.

This was what a thriving economy looked like in a medieval setting.

"Stay close," Sister Korra called back to the refugees. "We'll be processed

through the refugee settlement office, assigned temporary housing, and

given information about work opportunities."

Marcus's mind was already racing. Temporary housing meant rent to pay.

Work opportunities meant competition for jobs. His family needed income,

and quickly.

But he had advantages no one else in their group possessed: knowledge

from a world centuries ahead of this one, and eighteen days of travel to

think about how to apply it.

"Tom," Marcus said quietly as they followed the column deeper into the

city, "I think we're going to do well here."

"Course we are," Tom replied with his characteristic confidence. "You've

got that look again."

"What look?"

"The same one you had when you figured out how to cure the cattle itch.

The planning look." Tom grinned. "What are you planning now?"

Marcus looked around at the bustling city—at the merchants haggling, the

craftsmen working, the obvious inefficiencies in how goods moved through

the crowded streets. He thought about soap chemistry, about writing systems,

about the business principles he'd absorbed through Tyler's endless

optimization discussions.

"Everything," Marcus said softly. "I'm planning everything."

For the first time since learning about Malachar's threat, Marcus felt

something beyond mere survival instinct. This city represented opportunity

on a scale he'd never imagined. Six hundred thousand potential customers for

better products, improved services, more efficient solutions to daily

problems.

If he could establish himself here, build a network, create valuable

connections... maybe he could do more than help his family survive.

Maybe he could help fight back against the dark wizard's advances.

But first, he needed to understand how Drakmoor really worked. How business

was conducted, who held power, what problems needed solving. He needed

to learn the rules of the game before he could start changing them.

"Tom," Marcus said, his voice growing stronger with decision, "I want you

to remember this moment. This is where everything changes for us."

"Good change or bad change?"

Marcus looked ahead at the spires and towers rising before them, at the

incredible complexity of a medieval city that somehow supported six hundred

thousand people through pure human ingenuity and determination.

"Good change," he said firmly. "Definitely good change."

As their group was led toward the refugee processing center, Marcus began

mentally cataloguing everything he saw: the layout of streets, the types

of businesses, the way goods moved through the city, the obvious bottlenecks

and inefficiencies.

By the time they reached their temporary housing, Marcus had filled three

pages of his crude bark paper with notes and observations. The real work

was about to begin.

And Marcus Chen, armed with knowledge from two worlds and the absolute

loyalty of the strongest person he knew, was ready to change everything.