WebNovels

Chapter 2 - Chapter 1 – A Stranger Beneath Foreign Skies

4th Day of the Fifth Moon, 281 AC

The first thing Jin Mu-Won felt was pain.

It coursed through him like molten lead, heavy and unrelenting. His ribs ached as though they had been broken and poorly set. His breathing came ragged, each inhale pulling at wounds deep within. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking at light too sharp, too alien.

The sky above was not his own.

It was vast, washed in hues of blue he had never known, the air sharp with salt and earth, unfamiliar stars faint in the distance though it was day. For a long moment, he lay still upon the grassy hill, letting the world wash over him — a world that was not Murim.

His robes were scorched, his sword gone, reduced to fragments he had last seen scattering into light as the heavens swallowed him. He reached for qi within him and felt it — a dim ember where once there had been a raging sun. His dantian trembled, his meridians bruised, yet the spark endured.

Alive. But diminished.

Jin rolled onto his side, groaning softly. His body protested, but he forced it upright, planting his staff into the soil. The wood creaked but held. He leaned heavily on it, staring out across the hills that stretched into the horizon.

No jagged peaks of Murim. No smoke-filled valleys of sects clashing. Instead, rolling farmland, scattered cottages, distant banners fluttering — a stag, a lion, a crowned hand. He did not know their meaning, but he knew enough: he had crossed into a land already divided by power.

He laughed softly, though it hurt. "So this is where fate has thrown me… Another land on the brink of war."

---

The First Encounter

By midday, he had stumbled down toward a dirt path, his steps uneven but steadying with each breath of qi. His ears caught the distant sound of wheels — a wagon creaking, voices calling.

A group of smallfolk appeared, leading oxen laden with hay. Their clothes were roughspun, patched many times, their faces wary as they spotted the tall stranger with dark hair and torn robes leaning on a staff.

One of them, a bearded farmer with a scarred cheek, lifted a pitchfork defensively. "Halt there, stranger! You look half-dead and twice as dangerous. What business have you on these roads?"

Jin raised his free hand slowly, palm open. His voice was calm, low. "I have no quarrel with you. I am lost, far from home. My only business is to stand and breathe."

The farmers exchanged looks. A young boy peeked from behind the wagon, wide-eyed. "He's bleeding, father," the boy whispered.

The man frowned, still cautious. "You don't speak like any crownlander or marcher I know. Where do you hail from?"

Jin's lips quirked in a faint smile. "A place very far from here. Too far to return."

For a moment, suspicion lingered — then the boy darted forward, tugging his father's sleeve. "Please, he's hurt!"

The father sighed, lowering his pitchfork. "Seven help me, I've no room for fools, but I'll not turn away a dying man. Come then, stranger. We've bread, and water. That much I can spare."

---

A Meal Shared

They settled beneath an old oak by the roadside. The farmers shared coarse bread, onions, and a skin of watered wine. Jin accepted with quiet gratitude, chewing slowly, savoring even the simplest food after the bitterness of ash and blood.

The boy edged closer, staring at Jin's staff. "Are you a knight, ser? Or a hedge wizard? You've the look of both."

Jin chuckled softly, a rare sound. "Neither, though perhaps I have some of both in me. Where I come from, I was called a swordsman. Some called me master. Others, saint. I thought myself only… a man who fought when others could not."

The boy's eyes widened. "A sword saint! Like the heroes in songs?"

Jin's smile faded into something softer, sadder. "Songs often forget the cost. Heroes are not born from glory, but from necessity. Remember that, boy."

The father gave a wary grunt. "You speak strange truths for a wanderer. But you've the bearing of one who's seen much. Hells, maybe too much."

Jin inclined his head. "More than I care to recall."

---

The First Use of Qi

As they spoke, one of the oxen stumbled, its leg twisted upon a stone. It bellowed in pain, collapsing to its knees. The farmers rushed to calm it, but the beast kicked wildly, eyes rolling.

"Damn it, if it's lame, we'll not make the next village," the father cursed, pulling at the reins.

Jin rose slowly, leaning on his staff. He knelt beside the ox, placing his palm gently against its trembling flank. He closed his eyes, drawing in what little qi he could muster.

The ember flared faintly, flowing through his hand, seeping into the beast's leg. His breath slowed, his body aligning with the creature's pain, guiding it, easing it.

The ox's breathing steadied. Its leg twitched once, then it pushed itself back to its hooves, standing firm again. The farmers stared, eyes wide.

The boy whispered, "Seven save us… He is a wizard."

Jin shook his head, smiling faintly. "No wizard. Only a man who knows how to listen."

---

A Whisper of Harrenhal

By evening, they reached a crossroads where the farmers would turn north. Before they parted, the father offered Jin a strip of cloth, freshly washed. "To bind your wounds. You've earned at least that."

Jin bowed his head in gratitude. "May your harvests be plentiful, and your homes safe."

The boy, reluctant to leave, piped up, "If you're wandering, ser, you should go to Harrenhal! They say Lord Whent is holding the greatest tourney the realm's ever seen. Knights from every kingdom will come, even princes and princesses! Maybe you'll find a place there."

Jin's brow arched. Harrenhal. A place he did not know, yet the name carried weight even to his foreign ears. A gathering of lords and knights… perhaps a chance to understand this land's heart.

"Perhaps I will," Jin said, voice thoughtful. "Thank you, boy."

They parted ways, the farmers waving, the boy looking back one last time with wide, awed eyes.

Jin stood alone again, the road stretching before him. His body still ached, his qi still a shadow of what it had been — but the ember within burned brighter than before.

He whispered to the sky, as though to the heavens that had cast him here. "Another world. Another chance. Then let me not waste it."

And with staff in hand, Jin Mu-Won walked the road toward Harrenhal, toward destiny.

More Chapters