I died like an idiot.
One moment, I was managing my glorious empire in Regal Dominion,a medieval strategy game where you could conquer kingdoms, marry off your cousins for political gain, and backstab your way to power. The next? Black screen. Game crash. A fried PC.
And then... darkness.
Not poetic darkness. Not peaceful darkness.
Just the cold, suffocating kind, like being dragged into a black ocean by something ancient and hungry.
When I woke up, I was in a rather old and rusty room.
Doesn't seem to be heaven nor hell.
As I walked towards the window to look outside as to see where actually am I?
the first thing I saw was a broken statue of a dragon with its head missing. Then crumbling stone towers in the distance. Then the sky.
Blood-red clouds. Stars in strange shapes or is it?
My body feels rather light and my hand,
It is too small,too pale,too young.
I scrambled to a nearby mirror and looked at my reflection.
Sixteen, maybe seventeen. Sharp jaw, dark eyes. Not me. Not the guy who fell asleep in a hoodie, surrounded by Monster cans and bad life choices.
I keep thinking this is a dream.
Except this wasn't a dream.
Dreams don't come with splinters, cold wind, and the distant stench of rotten crops.
Then I remembered the name on the last save file I'd made.
Vihan Wyvrling.
My custom noble in the game Regal Dominion.
A minor noble. Last scion of a fallen dynasty. Heir to a single useless county in a broken duchy.
And now, apparently, me.Ya no doubt about it,more I look at myself the more obvious it becomes.
The good news? I wasn't dead.
The bad news? Everything else.
Wyvrling Hold was in ruins. The keep was held together by hope, moss, and about three loyal servants. The nearby town, Eldhollow, had half-burnt homes and fewer people. My coffers had exactly two silver coins and a rusty fork. The duchy I was supposed to inherit had been carved up by rivals and vultures a decade ago.
I had nothing.
No army. No allies. No food.
Just a name, a dead family, and the fading memory of how the game's UI worked.
Awesome.
---
As I was lost on my own thought someone called me "Your Grace."
It felt like a joke. The steward came to me looking worried and asking if I need something, he was a skeletal old man with half his teeth and a limp.
I asked him few questions and also told him to tell me about him, he seemed a little shocked but still proceeds to introduced himself as Bramwell, said he had served my father. After a short conversation I send him away and told him I will call him when I need him as he took his leave.
I didn't ask what happened to my father. I already knew the answer.
Assassinated. Betrayed. Probably both.
The Wyvrling dynasty had ruled the duchy of Halewind for generations until it all crumbled in one bad war, one worse betrayal, and a civil conflict that turned loyal knights into petty lords.
Now all that was left was this: a borderland county barely defended by farmers with pitchforks.
And me, a gamer in a teenager's body, surrounded by wolves.
---
The room i am sleeping in, It smelled like mold and desperation.
I spent the first night staring at the ceiling, piecing together what I remembered from the game:
Eldhollow County: population ~3,000. Dirt poor.
Surrounding lords: hostile or opportunistic.
Religion: Sun Cult. Mildly insane.
Magic: Real. Rare. Dangerous.
I also remembered the basic rule of Regal Dominion:
"Conquer or be conquered."
So I made a decision.
I might've been dropped into this world like trash, but I wasn't staying that way.
If this was my save file now, I was playing to win.
---
The next day, I called what was left of the "court."
It was almost funny.
An old war veteran named Arden, who looked like he hated everyone but especially me. A priest with wild eyes and sunburned robes Brother Caldus. And a spy mistress named Lyra who had no respect for authority and too many knives.
Although unlike in game i can't see their stats but I know of it by memory, the amount of restarts I had to do.
But in future if I have to bring in more people I have to be very careful whom to trust and whom not to.
They stared at me like I was a ghost. Maybe I was.
I didn't tell them I wasn't really Vihan. What would I say? "Hi, I'm from another world, and I used to play your kingdom like a spreadsheet?"
No. That would go over great.
Instead, I stood tall, faked confidence, and said the line that started every war in history:
"We're taking it all back."
---
They didn't laugh.
Arden just grunted. Lyra raised an eyebrow. Caldus whispered something about prophecy.
But they listened.
Because in this world, lineage mattered.
And I was Wyvrling blood.
Last flame of a dying fire.
We had discussion of my county affairs as I got to know more about my domain and what's going on around it reading reports and all the micro management.
Can't believe this was supposed to be hard in real life as it took few hours and finally in the evening I dismissed the council for the day.
After taking a short break I had dinner, nothing royal, not like I can afford.
I walked out of manor and walked towards the towers for the strool.
That night, I climbed to the highest tower and looked out at the land.
Dead trees. Frozen fields. A sky that never smiled.
And yet... I felt something.
No, not magic.
Not yet.
Just resolve.
I'd start small. Rebuild Eldhollow. Get the people on my side. Trade. Train. Scheme. Spy.
And when the time is right,whem I am strong enough.
I'd reclaim the duchy. Then the kingdom.
Not because I wanted revenge.
But because I hated losing.