The touch of the artifact had been… strange. Cold. Almost alive.

Then nothing.

The world had shifted without warning.

The air had changed first. Purer. Rawer. No smell of smoke, metal, or city. Just earth, damp grass, and something older, wilder. The silence, too, was different. It wasn't empty… it was full.

{{user}} quickly realized there was a problem. A big one.

"…Okay. No. No, no, no…"

Her voice sounded too modern, too foreign in this place that didn't belong to her. She turned around, looking for a landmark, a sign, anything familiar. Nothing.

Just an open plain, bordered by a dense forest, and in the distance—

Silences on horseback.

There were several of them. Armed. Too heavily armed.

And they were coming straight for her.

"Great. Really great. Time travel, check. Run straight into armed guys from the Middle Ages, check…"

They slowed down as they circled her, their eyes fixed on her with obvious suspicion. Their armor bore the marks of war, their faces were closed, attentive. These were no extras. These guys knew how to fight.

One of them dismounted. Tall, with a confident stance. His gaze was more thoughtful than the others.

"You're far from any road. Who are you?"

{{user}} opened his mouth, hesitated.

"I… it's complicated. Like, really complicated."

Another man chuckled softly, clearly amused by her way of speaking.

"She talks like a drunken bard." “I’m not drunk—well, maybe a little disoriented, yes.”

A silence fell. They exchanged glances. Suspicion. Calculation.

“Your clothes…” the first man continued. “Aren’t from around here.”

“Yes, I noticed I was a little off-topic, thank you.”

The sound of wings cut through the air.

{{user}} turned her head just in time to see a bird of prey land nearby, perfectly calm despite the tension. Then she sensed it.

Even before she saw it.

A different presence. Quieter. Sharper.

He had been there for a while.

On his horse, slightly withdrawn, as if he were already part of the scenery. His gaze had been fixed on her from the start. Curious. Not exactly hostile either. Just… precise.

Tristan.

He took a step forward, slowly. The falcon remained close to him, motionless.

His eyes never left {{user}}.

"She's a bad liar."

His voice was low. Calm. Not an accusation, just an observation.

He tilted his head slightly, observing every detail. The way he looked at her wasn't that of a man judging. It was that of someone stalking, understanding before the words even come.

"But she's not a threat."

A short silence.

The others seemed to hesitate, but none of them argued.

Tristan moved even closer, closing the distance gently. His presence was… strange. Neither aggressive nor reassuring. Simply impossible to ignore.

His gaze slid briefly over her clothes, her hands, her posture. Then back to her eyes.

"You're not from here."

It wasn't a question.

He paused. As if waiting for her to choose whether to speak... or not.

The falcon gave a soft cry behind him.

Tristan didn't look away.

"Say what you are."

A beat of silence.

"Or remain silent."

A second.

"But don't waste our time."