The year of our Lord, one thousand four hundred and forty. One thousand four hundred and... Wait isn't that 1440?
The word stunned Damian's mind, grinding his thoughts to a halt.
Although it had been obvious from Friedrich's memories that he'd transmigrated into the medieval age, hearing the date confirmed was a whole different ball game.
"Herr Friedrich!" Anna called out, taking a step forward. "Your face... it's turning white."
Before she could reach Damian's bedside, she paused, seemingly recalling something, then turned toward the door.
Realising that should Anna leave the room, that she'd most likely find the chubby priest from earlier, and inform him of the 'patient's condition', Damian blurted out, "I'm fine, Anna!"
His words like a magnet stopped Anna at the door, returning her gaze back to him.
Noticing the unconvinced look on her face, Damian forced a smile to his face. "Really, Anna I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."
Anna of course didn't buy his words. So for a minute, they stared at each other, eyes locked in a stalemate.
By the end of the second minute, Anna cracked, and with a short nod, she excused herself from the room.
Some minutes after Anna's departure, when no one walked into the room, Damian exhaled under his breath. "Phew. That was close. Almost got burned for demonic possession there."
Chuckling in self-deprecation, he let his head fall back to the bed.
While he stared at the ceiling, his mind drifted back to the memories of the port attack, particularly the last minute intuition felt by Friedrich.
If I remember correctly, the River Elbe was one of Hamburg's major economic veins in the fifteenth century. Shouldn't the attack on its port have spurred some sort of retaliation then?
Sure the pirates hit it fast, and they came disguised, it still doesn't explain the serious security lapse.
Just as he was mulling over the idea of the Elbe river port being attacked, another point flashed in his mind; population.
As a major economic vein of Hamburg's region, it should stand to reason that the Elbe river port would always have a steady population flow.
From Friedrich's memory however, the port was almost empty, save for the handful of men working on ships and a few labourers offloading cargo, his father's cargo.
For a major economic port, it seemed awfully deserted.
Stroking his chin, Damian murmured softly, "That does seem suspicious but then again, not every day is a busy day even for a cargo port. And I haven't exactly seen a medieval port so how am I to judge how a busy one should look."
Shaking his head, he returned to reviewing the memories in his head. Halfway through, another thought struck him!
"Wait were guards even present before the attack happened?"
Mouthing the words, Damian reviewed the Kata's arrival at the port once again. And just like he suspected, there wasn't a strong guarding force at the docks!
However, it wasn't just the apparent lack of a strong guarding force at the dock that stuck out.
There was also the fact that from the time of the Kata'a arrival all the way to the pirate attack, Friedrich hadn't seen a single guard. Not even a single guard.
"Holy shit!" The revelation settled in Damian's stomach, like stone sinking beneath the waves of a river current, jerking his body upright. "This is starting to look more like a set up."
The next second, a fiery sensation ran through the left side of his chest, pushing him back to the bed.
If it really was a set up, then Martha's fear really were not unfounded. Damian thought, his face wrinkling in pain.
Exhausted by the mental strain and stinging sensation on his chest, he closed his eyes. Before he knew it, the world faded into a dull haze, lulling him into a deep sleep.
•••
Damian dreamt of waking up to soft glare of his phone screen staring back at him in his apartment. He rubbed his eyes, then focused his attention on the screen.
At the top of its display, was a logo he was very familiar with. The unmistakable capital W of Wikipedia.
The header beneath it read; History of Hamburg. Rubbing his eyes once more, Damian slowly eased himself up.
After a fleeting moment of confusion that was quickly dispelled by the familiar sigh of his room, he began reading through the page.
Occasionally, he'd click the external links highlighted on the page, transporting himself to sub articles linked to the History of Hamburg.
While reading through one of the sub articles detailing the Hanseatic league, Damian heard a illusory echo in his ears.
As quickly as it came, the sound dissolved into nothingness, such that he couldn't quite make out what it was.
Sharply turning around, he surveyed the room. On the adjacent of the room was a window displaying a fire escape view of the night sky.
After a brief moment of eyeing the white curtains draped over the window flutter in the wind, Damian shrugged, returning his attention to his phone.
Before he could settle back into reading, the sound came again.
Although it was somewhat clearer this time, the only thing Damian could deduce from it was a name and an urgent cry in a strange language.
Once again, his eye darted cautiously across the room. Similar to the first time, everything was still and in place.
The curtains fluttered in the wind, occasionally blanketing the night sky in the background. The soft chirp of a bird drifted in from the distance, mixing with the quiet howl of wind.
Standing up, Damian walked toward the window.
After a minute of surveying the hazy world outside, and not finding an anomaly to explain the strange call, he closed it.
Just as he was about make his way back to his bed, the sound returned again, this time a bit clearer.
A name was being called, in a voice that sounded desperate.
Before Damian could question what was happening, the voice returned, a screaming desperate sound.
The sound of mirror's shattering reached his ear the next second, followed by his vision swimming and folding into a messy kaleidoscope of colours.
•••
Opening his eyes, Damian sat up with a strained gasp. Almost immediately, his eyes darted around him.
Memories of his transmigration immediately surfaced in his mind, as his eyes settled on the room's broken hearth.
Unlike when he first woke up, the room was now bathed in a gentle silver light, painting it a low dim. The low rustling and whistling of wind drifted in from the world outside.
"Is it night already?" Damian murmured, slowly rubbing his eyes.
As he sat up, a low creak reached his ears. It was so low that were it not for the silence afforded by the night, he wouldn't have heard it.
A creak in the middle of the night? Damian thought, the drowsiness clinging to his body like a second skin dissolved instantly, giving way to an alert mind.
The next moment, a terrifying hypothesis surfaced in his mind.
If the Kata's death was actually a set up, and the people who orchestrated it found out about 'Friedrich's' survival, they'd see at as a loose end that should be tied up.
Hiss!
Isn't this difficulty too hard. For fuck sake I just transmigrated this afternoon! Damian roared inwardly. His eyes however were already searching the length of the room for a place to hide.
The entire room was a wide, bare affair—not a single shadow deep enough to conceal a child, let alone a grown man.
Before he could dwell on his lack of options, the door handle clicked.
It swung inward with a low, almost silent creak, like whoever was opening it was trying not to wake the room's inhabitant.
A second later, a short silhouetted figure filled the doorway, followed by a soft, familiar voice. "Herr Friedrich, you're awake?"
Watching the figure step into the room, revealing a tray of food and Anna's face, Damian exhaled lightly, then slumped into the bed.
"All set, Herr Friedrich," Anna reminded a few seconds later.
Turning his gaze to the side, Damian saw Anna standing beside a wooden table, with the outline of two plates atop it.
"Thank you Anna." He replied, slowly standing, and moving toward the table. Anna nodded in response, then left the room.
As he sat on the chair, Damian noted the contents of the plate. A watery broth paired with a brown bread that had tiny black spots on its crust.
Reaching for the bread, he took a bite of it. Surprisingly, the bread felt soft, defying his expectations of stone hard bread which he'd read many times from medieval stories.
It does taste bland though.
His stomach protested the thought with a low growl, reminding him that he had no choice but to eat it.