Eric (СИ)

Yeah, business. Not every day and not every character is in a similar situation. Well, what should I do? Lie down and die? It is necessary to understand. So, we have a situation connected with changing the perception of the surrounding reality. That is, our hero suddenly began to feel that the whole world around him changed. This can be the result of three incidents. First, he can sleep and see a remarkably realistic dream, in which he fully realizes himself. Secondly, his brain functions related to the processing of information received by the receptors were violated, in other words, the surrounding reality remained the same, just a defect in perception. Or, as a version of this version - just some sudden mental illness. Thirdly, it really turned out to be in some other spatio-temporal continuum, and its material realization, that is, the body, differs from the original version. What is the conclusion of all this? Surprisingly, the conclusion is the same and universal in the current situation. That is, in order to feel comfortable and organic, he must act as if everything that surrounds him is real. To do this, it is necessary to establish the most harmonious and natural interaction with the surrounding reality, that is, to live a natural and harmonious life. The question of the method of return arises, and, alas, is immediately excluded, because the memory of our hero does not possess information about the conditions and the "point of entry" into the current state, which speaks either of a "one-way ticket" or some factors that personally do not depend on it. Such factors can be anything - from a parade of planets in some stellar system, something there focused on a specific point of space, and the excessive concentration of a unique mixture of gases before the devil does not joke, divine intervention. He, of course, does not believe in the gods, but the fact of their existence, still does not exclude. So, sat our hero, puffed, touched an itchy temechko with a very solid wound and, beautifully telling the wind about all close and distant relatives of some grandmother for all the good things, began to look around. Literally ten steps from the crypt, they found a silk belt, and scraps of some dress. A small stash was sewn in the belt, only seven denarii and a dozen obolov. The grass was badly crushed and dirty in the blood - obvious traces of the struggle. He carefully studied his findings and again went into a stupor. The fabric was quite rough, and coupled with the storage method and type of coins, spoke of a low technological level. What a wonderful start! He still did not have enough to be in the Middle Ages. About the guys from the reconstruction clubs, all the options swept the blood, because it was a lot and it was fresh - so much blood could be lost, only with a good wound. It is possible that the person who bleeds died. In general, everything is somehow strange and suspiciously obtained. Well, all right, conclusions early. The sun had already risen above the treetops, and Artem decided to return to the crypt to examine it. Even during the excavation, he discovered a system of old copper mirrors to illuminate the room, and he decided to use them. He went downstairs, leisurely, walked around the hall, examining the corpses of long-dead people for profit. Strange as it may seem, the goal that led him to this crypt until he lost consciousness, not only did not go anywhere, but also intensified. Looting, though ignoble occupation, but he did not have options - he needs at least some property. As the fact that he is waiting for him ahead, he did not even imagine, therefore he considered it important to take out all the useful things from the current situation (and the crypt). Little help? For survival, all means are good. There was a lot of armor and weapons in the hall, but almost all of them were either not in size or substandard, mostly, of course, the last one. Rummaging through the bodies, he was able to discover only one thing that delighted him - it was a small crossbow, a very simple dressing, with glued bow and primitive descent. The body of the owner of this sensible unit was quite fresh and still unsweetenedly stank, which indicated a good chance of its functioning, albeit suffering from long-term storage. The most unpleasant thing was to remove the belt from the corpse with a hook. What did you want? Not everyone can restrain vomiting, gently embracing a fragrant stinking corpse. Our gatherer of ownerless property roamed the crypt for an hour and a half and chose a crossbow with a belt, a dozen bolts and a simple knife with a hard, narrow blade in neat sheath, in fact a dagger. By clothing, of course, it did not work out - either decayed, or badly in size, or strongly smelled of decay and decay so that a man in such clothes could easily accept a rebel dead man.
Gathering all his hare, the guy went out into the fresh air. Gently laying, bandaging and putting it on his shoulders, Artem went to look for some brook or other source of clean water. Went randomly, that is, on the only path that led from the crypt. It's hard to say whether he was lucky or not, but half an hour later they heard a distant murmur of the brook, which was discovered in about twenty minutes, but with great difficulty, as it flowed in thick reeds and willow. A little climbing along the stream he found a couple of large boulders, where he settled himself, to wash himself of his own blood.
Most of the day passed before Artyom, in damp but fairly clean clothes, went out again to the path. The tests of the crossbow resulted in a completely satisfactory result - his toy was stretched tightly with a belt, but beat quite accurately by 50 steps. The pull, snap, was no more than 80-85 kg, in general, for such devices a bit, because because of the short stroke of the bowstring, not all energy was transferred to the bolt. Although, it was difficult to assess the tension force because of a new body, which is still not used to. He walked quite quickly, as the evening was approaching rapidly. Already at dusk, from behind the turn, some wooden houses looked out, surrounded by a wooden wall with a gate. Nearby, at some distance was a very respectable courtyard with a busy homon inside. It was like either a big village or a small town with a completely mesmerizing view, especially the rooftops covered with rotten straw and the almost complete absence of traces of a technocratic civilization. Neither a crumpled pack of cigarettes, nor a used condom. Even the road looked as if the car did not defile it with its tires. This greatly alarmed and increasingly reinforced the version of the assessment of the surrounding space-time continuum as a deaf Middle Ages. Having stood a little on the edge of the forest and crumpled, stepping from foot to foot, pondering what is waiting for him inside, our hero nevertheless decided to move to this yard and look at everything closer, since he did not want to sleep on the street at all. Inside was a lot of people who drank, ate and made noise behind simple wooden tables. They looked quite normal for the countryside in the Middle Ages, that is - dirty, primitive clothes from a homespun cloth. When Artyom closed the door almost the whole tavern, with pale, surprised faces, stared at him. Artyom chuckled, bowed to the audience and, ignoring the massive, unconcealed stupor among the Aborigines, approached the peasant behind the counter. There he in Latin asked him about the room for a rest and dinner. He something pomochal in some German dialect, scratched the back of his head and, seeing a misunderstanding, shouted to some Luka. A minute later, a young guy in a cassock approached them, and acted as an interpreter, although, of course, he knew Latin very badly. The room at night and dinner with breakfast cost one obol, and there was food - how much you eat. Having eaten in the room, Artyom took his place on the trestle, after barricading the door with the help of a shop, undressing and washing. About five minutes later, our new boy was already fluttering in the arms of Morpheus. The most unusual thing for him was that he had to explain for a long time about water for ablution. It was so unexpected for the locals that only the third time they realized what exactly he was asking. Apparently local humanoid living creatures are not at all accustomed to regular water procedures. Strangely enough, but the old jokes about the "European dirty" are quite natural. And these are trifles, in comparison with what awaits him in case it really is a natural European Middle Ages.