I find myself in a relatively small stone brick room with wooden bunk beds on each side of the room, beds stuffed with straw being lit with  light dim orange stones held up with metal rods, and impaled into the stone bricks.

With us being so-called “Heroes” and planning to be summoned, they sure don't treat us well. A few guys run to the closest beds and crash onto them with a loud creak. I also see Daimarion jump onto a top bunk and just about break it.

“This is going to be fun!”

He says as he lays back, looking around the room. I claim a bunk towards the back of the room and see a wooden chest next to my bed. It opens with a rusty metallic creak, and I see a heavily rusted sword and what looks like a reminisce of what used to be a helmet. The rust is so old it crumbled the helmet into three pieces.

The room is rather dark, with just the strange glowing crystals lighting it and no other windows besides the ones in the hallway. The slowly dimming sunlight from the hallway signals that everyone should go to bed.

The dimly lit bunk room reminds me of something similar I went through on earth. During the Wyoming revolution of 89 I was drafted for the revolution when I was 10. All the soldiers had to stay in barracks similar to these, There I learned many things, there are more who would eagerly kill for the smallest gain.

All the chatting and excitement the room was filled with died down, and most talking became a low murmur. It’s probably the best time to warn everyone now then I think to myself.

“Hey guys, I heard some people talk-”

Before I could finish, I was interrupted by a familiarly annoying voice,

“HA! You're still here!? I thought you’d have run off by now with an introduction like that! Let me guess: Do you have a stealth skill? What a fucking useless ability.”

Just about everyone joined in and laughed. What I would do to just give him a kick in his fuckn’ nuts, but I turn over in my bed to face the wall. If they are too blinded by the fantasy of becoming a hero to some weird church they won't hear my warning, so that's their problem. I’ll be safe in another country or back on earth when they get manipulated into morally wrong actions. And then I will be laughing at them. 

I never was one for sympathy, even as a kid I thought why should I go out of my way to give someone another chance when they are the one who made the wrong choice. Now that I think about it I guess my fathers perspective might have rubbed off on me. At least I’m still more open than he was.

I should learn all I can about this place and what brought us here. But right now, I’m worn out and need to sleep. I glance back at everyone and see everyone back to usual chit-chat. Just as I’m about to turn back over, I see someone's eyes meet mine. I think her name is Arceil. She looked at me as if expecting me to finish what I said. I scoff at her and turn back. She didn’t question this much; we didn't even get that good of an explanation on our first day. I guess you can be intelligent but ignorant at the same time.

I wake up to the creak of a board. Through my sleep, I see figures in white robes next to everyone's bed casting what looks like spells with dim blue lights coming from around their hands. I see one look over to me and know that I’m awake. He whispers something to the others, and a few raise their hands towards me and see more dim blue light. My head feels instantly heavy, and I crash back onto my straw pillow.

I wake up with a blurry, fading memory of what happened over the night. It feels more like a dream than anything else. I stand up from my bed and realize I feel like I have a terrible hangover. My head hurts to move, and I can barely stand upright. That confirms that my dream was not, in fact, a dream but reality because I would have no reason to feel this was other than a side effect of that magic they used; what could they have been doing?

The older man who met us before stands in the doorway, tapping the doorframe with a large stick that looks like it naturally grew around the blue orb at the top.

“Everyone, grab your gear from the boxes. We are doing hands-on training now.”

“Awesome!”

A few people shout in anticipation of seeing more of this world. Everyone grabs their gear; it's mostly the same: a sword, chainmail, and a helmet. None were as severely damaged as mine, though. I pick up what's left of my helmet and my sword. It looks like it could kill more people with tetanus than its blade. As everyone was walking out the door, I caught the older man glaring at me, and I couldn't help but fear for my life when I saw it.

I slip past him, fearing a dagger in the back. But he leads the group down more stairs and out into the front of what I can now tell is a large castle with horse-drawn carriages waiting. The carriages look average, not as modern as in our world, but not as bad as expected. The wood is sanded, with windows made of foggy glass with red curtains covering it.

The older man ushers us inside them, and with a lurch, the carriage starts. It’s filled with five students and one knight holding a short sword across his lap. The carriage rattles down the cobblestone road, and I wonder if they have leaf spring suspension; maybe I could make something out of my knowledge here.

The carriage stops, and I hear a large gate being opened, and we start going again. I’m sitting on the same seat as the knight but with someone in between us. He sits there staring forward like a British royal guard. As I want to learn more about this world, I grab the curtain of the carriage about to pull it open. I see a shining sword lunge at me as I hear a sharp whistle of air cut.