Time Travel? Rebirth? I Win This Time!

In the midst of a soft, pink-tinged hum, Mike Bai finally succumbed to the weight of exhaustion and drifted into a deep slumber.

The next morning, he opened his eyes to find dark circles beneath them. To his surprise, he saw that Ken had already risen. The young man had brought over a glass of milk and a large chunk of coarse wheat bread for both Mike Bai and Anna.

Ignoring the rough texture of the bread, the trio hurriedly finished their breakfast and set off to a general store to purchase some outdoor supplies and provisions. Then, they began their journey westward along the road.

The early summer sun slowly crept above the treetops, breathing life into the world. The warm, humid sea breeze stirred the wild grass and shrubs, which seemed to exhibit an unyielding vitality, breaking through the soft soil and steadily encroaching upon the small path.

Despite this, the constant flow of merchant caravans kept the road clear, as it connected the Kingdom of France with the Empire. Weapons, textiles, and spices from the city-states of the Apennines flowed through here in abundance, while French wine and wheat were exchanged for gold coins.

Naturally, the lucrative trade route attracted the attention of local nobility, who, after several bloody skirmishes, ensured that no bandit gangs dared to risk robbing the noble purses anymore.

Perhaps it was because Mike Bai and his companions looked like they had nothing of value, but whatever the reason, they were able to travel unhindered. Despite the numerous toll stations and taxes that nearly drove Mike Bai mad, they finally left the Empire's borders by the afternoon of the third day and entered the Toulouse Duchy, which lay under the rule of the Kingdom of France.

Exhausted from days of travel, the trio arrived at a small village just before sunset. They selected a modest hut that seemed to be in slightly better condition than others, hoping to rest for the night.

The door was opened by a man in his forties, his hair graying from years of labor. He looked somewhat puzzled at the sight of the young man and two teenagers standing before him.

"Honorable elder, we are refugees fleeing from danger," Mike Bai said, offering twenty copper pennies. "We ask for a place to stay for the night. We would also be very grateful for any food you could provide."

Perhaps it was the trio's weary and unremarkable appearance—or perhaps it was the copper coins—but after a moment's hesitation, the old man opened the door and allowed them inside.

The interior, though daylight, was dimly lit. One side of the room had a door ajar, revealing two straw beds and some basic household items, while the other side housed a small livestock pen, where a few skinny chickens and ducks were scurrying about.

The old man seemed to have difficulty walking, but after taking a few faltering steps, he gestured to a room next to the animal pen, where dry hay covered the floor. "If you don't mind, you can sleep here," he said.

Reluctantly, the trio agreed. With the sounds of animals and the pungent smell of waste in the air, they quickly packed their belongings, pinched their noses, and prepared for another night of discomfort.

As the sun dipped lower, the old man returned and invited them to join him for dinner. "Guests from afar, come, eat with us," he called.

Following the old man, they entered a room that was much cleaner and more orderly. Ceramic jars were neatly arranged in a corner, and fragrant wooden barrels stood nearby. On the walls hung sausages and cheese, while a pot in the center of the room emitted a savory aroma.

It was clear the old man's household was in relatively better circumstances.

"Please, sit," he said, ushering them to a long bench. Then, he called to a child nearby. "Louis, bring the porridge."

A small, skinny boy with tousled hair took a wooden ladle and scooped thick, hearty oat porridge from a clay pot. He brought it to Mike Bai and the others.

Grateful for the warm meal after a day of eating dry rations, the trio expressed their thanks and eagerly dug into the porridge. It was rich and perfectly cooked, and to their delight, the old man had added dried fruits and bits of meat to the porridge—perhaps because Mike Bai had given him more coins than he had asked for.

As they ate, the boy, Louis, scraped the bottom of the pot and served himself and the old man, though his focus remained entirely on the remaining porridge.

"Burp!" Mike Bai let out a satisfied sigh. The porridge had filled him with warmth and energy, making the day's travel fatigue melt away.

Seeing the contentment on Mike Bai's face, the old man smiled in turn. His eyes, however, soon moved to Louis, who was hungrily finishing his bowl of porridge.

"Louis, take it easy. There's more," the old man said, holding out his own bowl to share with the boy.

But Louis, looking at the pot longingly, pushed the old man's bowl away.

"Grandfather, you drink. Louis isn't hungry." The boy then turned his eyes back to the pot, hoping to scrape up a bit more.

Seeing the bond between the grandfather and grandson, Mike Bai felt a little embarrassed. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a piece of coarse wheat bread and handed it to Louis.

Louis glanced at the bread and, with the old man's approval, snatched it eagerly. He tore it in half and handed a piece to his grandfather.

"You eat, Grandfather," Louis said.

"No, no, I'm not hungry. You eat, my Louis," the old man chuckled warmly.

Louis finally relented, and in a few bites, the hard bread was gone.

Just as the trio was enjoying the peaceful evening meal, the sound of galloping hooves reached their ears.

"Where's the village chief? Where is the chief?" a knight's squire, wearing a helmet and armed in full gear, called loudly as he entered the village.

The old man quickly set his bowl aside and hurried out.

Mike Bai, curious, stuck his head out to see what was happening. The squire was showing the old man a rolled scroll and a seal, shouting something at him.

The old man's face darkened as he seemed about to protest, but before he could speak, the squire raised his whip and lashed it through the air, knocking the old man to the ground. Without a second glance, the squire mounted his horse and rode off.

Mike Bai rushed outside, but Louis was faster, reaching the old man and helping him to his feet before Mike Bai could get to him.

"What's going on, elder?" Mike Bai asked, his concern growing.

The old man merely shook his head, not answering.

As night fell, Louis, too small to fight off exhaustion, fell asleep on his grandfather's lap. The old man gently held him, his brow furrowed in deep worry.

Mike Bai and his companions, seeing the elder's distress, couldn't help but ask, "Elder, is something troubling you? Please, tell us."

Sighing deeply, the old man finally spoke, though his face remained tense with worry. "It's nothing to do with you, foreigners," he began. "It's the local knight lord. He wants to draft soldiers from our village. Every household must send a young man, and depending on their wealth, they must provide their own weapons and armor."

He paused, his voice cracking with concern. "What will happen to my Louis if I leave for war?"