Chapter 1

He awoke in excruciating pain, probably the worst pain he had ever felt in his life. The only thing that made the pain worse was the fact that he couldn’t move his body or open his eyes. All he could make out about his surroundings was that there were people who sounded to be in about as much pain as he was. He lay in what might have been the most uncomfortable bed he had been in since his time in Iraq, it felt like a cot made out of sandpaper and rocks. After lying in unending pain for a bit he was suddenly able to move his body, sitting up fast enough to shake the cot he was laying on back and forth, exacerbating his excruciating headache. He tried to say something but all his thoughts were coming out garbled.

One of the people passed by and locked eyes with him, the tray of medical instruments they carried slowly falling out of their hands. She was wearing what looked like some sort of medieval nun outfit without the habit or the cross, as well as a leather apron and gloves. She was stammering and pointing at him, causing many of those around her to stop their work and stare as well. Finally, he was able to speak his mind, albeit very slowly.

“Oh god...my head, does anyone...have...pain meds?”

That was weird, he thought, That isn’t my voice.

“He-he-he-he's alive! How is this possible?!”

“Please...my head is...killing me.” He said weakly.

“Baron! how are you still alive?! You were shot through the eye!”

“I don’t under...stand.” He said, slowly rising from his cot. “What do you mean I was...argh...shot?”

“Baron, you were shot through the eye in the last battle! I watched the life bleed out of you!”

“Who is this...Baron?” He said, feeling for his lost eye. He hadn’t noticed it was gone until now.

“Oh my god, the Baron has lost his memories!”

After a brief time of the medics barraging him with questions he wasn’t in the right headspace to answer, the Baron retreated to his private chambers, which turned out to be a rather large tent. From what he saw on his way to his tent, it looked like a war camp from the renaissance, or at least some time before his own.

“I doubt this is a reenactment,” He said to himself as he looked in a mirror,

“I doubt they would go so far as to change my face and height.” He was about a head taller than he used to be, he had salt and pepper hair which was slicked back into a ponytail. If he were to guess his current age he would say around 50. He was also a great deal more muscular than he used to be, his body felt in perfect, almost superhuman, physical condition. Minus his pounding headache. He decided to look around the room to see if there is anything to help him gain his bearings. He opened a trunk full of letters and grabbed one. The script looked like German but when he read it he could understand it perfectly. Now that he thought about it, everyone was speaking German around him, but he could understand it as English perfectly.

Baron Johan Von Bickenstadt,

I am requesting for the Klarwasser Mercenary Company to assist in putting down the rebels near Holenstadt’s capital city, Twelve miles west in Holenstadt’s third largest town named Baktenburg. Should you put down this rebellion with distinction I will pay 150% our previously discussed rate. I will also owe you a favor, within reason of course. Should you need to occupy or attack a town I ask you try to not burn it to the ground, but you may keep any and all goods you should “find” along the way, as is tradition with mercenary companies. I will anxiously await word of either your success in battle or your denial of my request.

Sincerely,

Empress Samanta Schwarzen Reikspal.

“Interesting, so in addition to being a Baron, I run a mercenary company? Why would a Baron run a mercenary company? Shouldn’t he just have an army?” He muttered to himself.

Suddenly, he felt memories flooding into his mind. He could remember what happened leading up to the moment the Baron entered the battlefield personally, about a month's worth of memories at once. Apparently having a lot of memories suddenly enter your mind at once is incredibly painful. As soon as the events of the past couple of months came back to him, the headache worsened significantly and he collapsed into his cot.

There was currently a rebellion happening, launched by the Empress’s brother. For the life of him he just couldn’t quite remember the reason, but it was most likely more than just a power grab, of that he was sure. After a few minutes of thinking and slowly recovering from his headache, he continued to investigate his new body.

He looked closer at his eye in the mirror after noticing some strangeness he couldn’t quite place. The pupil looked strange, kind of hawk-like in a way, and the color was wrong, a kind of yellow-orange that as far as he knew simply didn’t exist amongst humans. He moved on to review the rest of his body.

He was in amazing physical condition, almost inhumanly in shape. In his previous life he had spent the last 2 years dying of cancer. He was never the physically strongest man, and his cancer exacerbated that. His current body looked almost like it was carved from marble, and his muscles felt about as hard too. He might have been in even better shape than modern olympians. He felt physically extremely well, minus the now slight headache. It was a feeling he was simply unused to feeling. I should have worked out more.

Having completed his rudimentary physical examination, he sat down and started to go through the Baron’s things, mostly letters and documents about the state of the rebellion and his mercenary company ‘Klarwasser Mercenary Company’. Apparently in this world the term ‘Mercenary’ just meant that you get paid to go to war, meaning that basically all professional soldiers were mercenaries. The difference between calling yourself a soldier or a mercenary essentially came down to personal preference.

He was currently in the Imperial province of Holenstadt fighting the remnants of the prince’s faction that rose up in Holenstadt. They were only able to capture three small towns and the third largest town in the province before The Baron’s forces stopped them in their tracks. He was able to retake 3 of the towns and was currently in the process of retaking the last remaining rebel controlled town in Holenstadt. He was taking part in a small skirmish a couple of miles away from when he was shot through the eye, completely killing their momentum and allowing the rebels to regroup.

“Ok, I think I have mostly regained my bearings, I know roughly what’s going on, now I just need to adapt to this world and assume the role of Baron Von Bickenstadt.”

He put on his clothes and armor, which looked to be a strange mix of the floofy pants and sleeves of the Landschneckt and the beveled chestplate of a Spanish Conquistador plated in gold. Etched into his Cuirass looked like a ship docking at a harbor, the boat and the dock were extremely detailed, so much so that it seemed like a waste for a piece of armor meant for battle.

From what he could remember, the Baron was most proficient in Cossack style saber combat and some sort of Wushu-esque sword form. A very strange combination of sword styles, though he was in the very least adequate with most other weapons like long swords and the pole weapons, as well as being a crack shot with a gun.

it seemed this world was in a sort of late renaissance period of warfare, with battles still mostly made up of melee and bow infantry with guns mixed in and cavalry still ruling the battlefield, though it would seem that they are in the middle stage of industrialization as he could vaguely remember some machines being powered by steam.

He strapped on his saber, which was inlaid beautifully with etched gold and jewels, as well as four pistols he had holstered on his hips and under his armpits. He then stepped out of his tent and was immediately greeted by a young man who saluted him.