"Wake up."
I gasped satting up for air, clutching my chest as I looked at my surroundings.
A moment ago I was in the alleyway bleeding to death, now I was in a room that smelled like herbs I was both familiar and unfamiliar with.
I looked down at me to notice that I was covered in bandages, which made no sense as nothing in the 1800's could've saved me from my dying to all those bullets unless it was someone with a stand like Cream Starter.
I looked around the room taking note how strangely, everything was small. Like someone around three to four feet lived here.
"Where the hell am I?..."
I stood up, my legs felt like jelly standing up was weird. I tried taking a step and all I felt was pain fun through my legs.
I fell down but caught myself with a drawer nearby before I could fall any further, I then heard the sound of clicking and looked up to see a small man carrying a basket of herbs.
'Dwarfism?, no his limbs are still all proportionate with his head...'
Before I could think any further he grabbed my arm trying to bring me up, but since I was ridiculously taller than him he was only able to help me up a bit before he couldn't reach any further.
"You shouldn't be walking around, we found you by the river bleeding everywhere!"
"Who patched me up?" I asked him, I was genuinely curious who was able to save me from the brink of death.
"Oh it was Father Jerome, it took him awhile to fully heal you but he did it!"
I stared at the ceiling for a moment processing that.
Someone healed me from multiple gunshot wounds using what I could only assume was magic, which meant I was either in a world where magic existed or I had died and this was some kind of afterlife with very specific interior decorating choices.
"...Thank you," I said finally. "To Father Jerome. Whoever he is."
The small man set his basket down on a table that came up to my knee and turned to look at me properly for the first time. He had a round, weathered face and sharp eyes that were doing their own assessment of me with considerable efficiency.
"You're welcome to thank him yourself once you're not falling into my furniture." He stuck out a hand. "Peter. Peter Ashwick."
I took it carefully. His hand was about the size of my palm. "Julius. Julius Zeppeli."
"Zeppeli." He repeated it. "That's a strange name."
"It's Italian."
"What's Italian?"
I opened my mouth, before closing it and thinking.
"Where am I?" I asked instead.
"Hampert village." He moved to the basket and started sorting herbs with the practiced ease of someone who had done it ten thousand times. "Small place. Good people mostly. You're lucky the miller's boy spotted you by the river or you'd have fed the fish by morning."
"And where is Hampert village?"
"About four days by carriage from Emon."
The name meant nothing to me. "Which continent?"
Peter stopped sorting. He looked up at me with an expression that sat somewhere between sympathy and suspicion.
"Tal'Dorei," he said slowly. "Are you sure you're feeling well? Father Jerome said the head wounds weren't serious but-"
Tal'Dorei, I knew that name.
Not well. Not the way I knew Steel Ball Run, not with the granular detail of someone who had read every chapter and remembered every plot beat. It was more like hearing a song you'd listened to once years ago, recognizable but just out of reach. A fantasy world. A campaign setting. Vox Machina.
Dungeons and Dragons.
I had the sudden urge to sit down again and Peter must have seen something shift in my face because he pulled a chair out from under the small table and looked at me expectantly.
I sat on the floor next to it since the chair would have collapsed under me. Peter, to his credit, didn't comment on this.
"Right," I said quietly. "Tal'Dorei."
Magic was real here. That much was already confirmed by the fact that I was breathing. There were monsters and gods and people who could level cities if they wanted to. And somewhere out there, if the timeline lined up in any way I could use, there were seven extraordinary people in the middle of becoming something legendary.
I knew almost nothing about the specifics. Fragments. The broad strokes.
It was going to have to be enough.
Peter was watching me with those sharp eyes. "You're not from around here, are you."
It wasn't really a question.
"No," I said. "I'm really not."
[The Golden Ratio]
It's been a week since I've been in Hampert Village, the first problem I had was that I didn't have money. Thankfully however I ended up here was kind enough to allow me be with my bag and clothes so I sold all of the jewelry and valuables I had and rented a room in town.
As much as I liked Peter he was a halfing, and his home wasn't exactly built for a six foot Italian man. The money I got was enough to last for two months, I had to thank my father for getting me that Golden Pocket watch back in my 13th birthday. I didn't sell it but instead gave it to the local Craftsman to the study for a few days so he could add it to the list of things he could make.
The things I sold were all the rings and necklaces I had except for a pair of Golden dentures my brother Gyro have me before I left for America, it was the exact same pair of 'Go! Go! Zeppeli!' he had. He wanted me to match with him and I was intending to before I bit the dust.
I was still pondering on whether I should have them implanted or not.
It was autumn, specifically the start of it. I had bought a horse along with all the gear I needed to travel. It was considered stupid to travel on horse back near winter but that also reduced the risk of being ambushed by bandits who could afford horses.
So after a week of preparation, I just needed one more thing from the village before leaving.
I walked around the village before arriving at my destination, I could hear the sound of a hammer clinking with hot metal from a houses back. It was the local blacksmith shop ran by an old man named Geralt.
"Ah, the Zeppeli boy."
I just nodded at him, it was very easy to distinguish between a local and a foreign. I got my clothes patched up so aside from my hair being a bit shorter and not having the denchers installed, I looked exactly like my brother Gyro.
And we both didn't dress like normal people whatsoever, infact my clothes did get me a few strange looks when I first worn them in the village but I didn't care, aside from the Golden denchers my clothes were the only things I got from my brother. He basically just gave me his whole pair of clothes that didn't him fit anymore.
"Here's your commission, these weird looking balls..."
He handed me a bag filled with the very things that hopefully changed my brothers fate, they were two pairs of steel balls. Ones I would constantly have on my holsters and ones I would have as extras in my pack.
"I have no idea how you're even gonna defend yourself with those things..." Geralt said grumbling
"Don't worry about it old man, thanks for these!" I replied with a toothy grin as I got on my horse, I had one destination and it was a four day journey.
The City of Emon, specifically Gilmore's Magic Shop. A place where I could hopefully buy something magical for cheap, from what I remember from the show.
'Wishful thinking the Gilmore would even give me something for cheap!'