Free Web NovelChapter 1: The Wrong Century
Arthur Bennett woke up convinced he was dying.
His head felt as though someone had driven a spike through it. Every heartbeat sent another wave of pain behind his eyes. For several seconds, he remained motionless, waiting for the sensation to pass.
It didn’t.
Instead, another problem appeared.
The smell.
Sweat.
Smoke.
Rotting food.
Animal dung.
The combination was so strong that it forced him to open his eyes.
Bright sunlight flooded his vision.
Arthur groaned and raised a hand to shield his face. The ground beneath him felt rough and uneven. Dust clung to his clothes. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorted.
A horse?
That made him sit up.
The movement immediately rewarded him with dizziness. The world spun for a moment before settling into focus.
When it did, Arthur simply stared.
He was lying beside a narrow street.
People moved past him without paying much attention. Some carried baskets. Others pushed carts loaded with goods. Merchants stood beneath cloth awnings, shouting at potential customers.
None of it made sense.
Arthur slowly got to his feet.
The first thing he noticed was the clothing.
Tunics.
Sandals.
Loose cloaks.
At first, his brain searched for familiar explanations.
Film set.
Historical festival.
Tourist attraction.
Unfortunately, every explanation fell apart almost immediately.
There were too many people.
Too much detail.
Too much dirt.
Real historical reconstructions always felt slightly artificial. This didn’t.
This felt alive.
A cart rolled past him, pulled by two mules. The wooden wheels rattled against the stone road.
Arthur watched it disappear into the crowd.
No engine.
No rubber tires.
No modern materials.
Just wood, iron, and animal power.
A knot formed in his stomach.
"Okay," he muttered. "Either I’ve had a complete mental breakdown or something very strange is happening."
Neither option was particularly comforting.
He took a slow breath and forced himself to think.
What was the last thing he remembered?
The answer came surprisingly quickly.
The library.
He had been in the university library.
There had been books spread across the table, several unfinished notes, and an unreasonable amount of coffee. His supervisor wanted another revision of his thesis Chapter before the end of the week.
Arthur remembered leaving late.
He remembered being exhausted.
After that...
Nothing.
A blank space.
His memory simply stopped.
A woman carrying a basket brushed past him.
She glanced at him briefly before continuing on her way.
Arthur opened his mouth.
"Excuse me."
The woman didn’t stop.
He tried again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I appear to be having a crisis."
Nothing. freewebnøvel.coɱ
The woman either ignored him or didn’t understand a word he said.
Probably both.
Arthur looked around.
The architecture drew his attention next.
Stone buildings lined both sides of the street. Some were painted in faded reds and yellows. Others displayed signs hanging above doorways.
He frowned.
The style felt familiar.
Dangerously familiar.
Years spent studying Roman administration had forced him to look at thousands of reconstructions, maps, and archaeological reports.
He knew Roman cities.
Not perfectly.
But well enough.
Far too well.
His pulse quickened.
"No."
He immediately rejected the idea.
It was ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
The problem was that every passing minute made it seem less ridiculous.
A group of men walked past him while arguing loudly.
Arthur turned toward them.
Then froze.
He understood almost nothing they were saying.
Yet the language sounded familiar.
Not French.
Not Spanish.
Not Italian.
Latin.
Actual Latin.
For a moment, Arthur wondered if his brain had simply made the connection because of his academic background.
Then one of the men shouted a phrase he recognized.
Not because he understood every word.
Because he had spent years reading similar sentences.
The world suddenly felt colder.
"No."
A few pedestrians glanced at him.
Arthur barely noticed.
He stood perfectly still while his mind tried desperately to construct a logical explanation.
Hallucination.
Concussion.
Coma.
Dream.
Simulation.
Time travel sat comfortably at the bottom of the list.
Unfortunately, it was slowly climbing upward.
A loud voice interrupted his thoughts.
Arthur turned.
A soldier stood at the edge of the street.
The man’s attention was focused entirely on him.
Arthur’s stomach sank.
Even without the armor, the posture would have been enough.
This was a professional soldier.
The segmented armor simply removed any remaining doubt.
For several seconds, neither man moved.
The soldier spoke first.
Arthur recognized individual words but failed to understand the sentence.
The pronunciation was faster than anything he had encountered in university.
The soldier frowned.
Then repeated himself.
Arthur raised both hands.
"Sorry. English."
The soldier stared.
Arthur stared back.
The silence stretched between them.
Finally, the soldier sighed.
The universal language of exhausted men.
Arthur appreciated that.
At least some things never changed.
The soldier said something else and motioned for him to come closer.
Arthur hesitated.
The soldier placed one hand on the hilt of his sword.
The hesitation ended immediately.
Arthur walked forward.
The soldier studied him with growing intensity.
At first, Arthur assumed the man found him suspicious.
That would have been reasonable.
He was a stranger wandering around while speaking an unknown language.
The longer the soldier stared, however, the stranger his expression became.
Confusion replaced suspicion.
Then surprise.
Then something Arthur couldn’t quite identify.
The soldier stepped closer.
His eyes narrowed.
Arthur shifted uncomfortably.
The man circled him once.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like someone examining an object that should not exist.
Arthur opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, the soldier stopped.
For the first time since their encounter began, genuine emotion appeared on the man’s face.
Shock.
The soldier took a step backward.
His gaze remained fixed on Arthur.
Then he spoke a single word.
Arthur didn’t understand the sentence.
He didn’t need to.
One word was enough.
Impossible.
The soldier looked at him as if he had seen a ghost.
And for the first time since waking up, Arthur realized something terrifying.
The man wasn’t staring because Arthur was a stranger. freewebnoveℓ.com
He was staring because he recognized him.
