ANNO: 1623

001 - Rebirth

DUCHY OF FAYWYN

{Excerpt}

James T. Earl passed away at the age of 27 in the hospital, on July 14, 2025. He lost his brave and long battle with cancer, but not without leaving his mark on this world. He is survived by Aunt, Mary Wilson, his cousins, Karen, Talon, and Madison, and his grandparents Jeanette and Dougie.

A young yet renowned historian in the field of polemology, he will be remembered by his family, friends and colleagues for the loving passion and regard he held towards his career; his zest for wargaming, wildfowling and mountaineering, and even less known, his secret ardent affection towards sweets and sugary pastries will also not be forgotten(Laughs).

We know James is now with his parents, Joan and Mia Earl and is loved here on earth as well as in heaven.

A private funeral service was held at St. Mary's Catholic Church on Sunday, August 16, 2025, and a memorial service is planned for a later date.

Please do not send flowers. Remembrances may be made to...

...

Excerpt from James Earl's Obituary, written and published by his surviving maternal aunt, Mary Wilson, in XXXX, on the 30th of July, 2021.

{END}

11.13.1623

Strange as it was, in a state of partial consciousness, James recalled a poem he once read written by an English man long gone: Busy old fool, it read, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains call on us? The morning sun, as ever, was a pettish mistress; her golden fingers reaching for his sleeping form as a dusty beam, probing him from a restful slumber. Petulant.

The air was stuffy and thick with the scent of myrrh, vinegar and honey. James felt the wetness of a wrung rag run across his chest, the sudden coldness jolting him awake. It ached all over, a throbbing pain writhing under his skin and in his bones. Groaning, he reached for his head to feel the crisp edges of bandages wrapped around his hurting skull. His eyelids fluttered briefly for a moment; another moment passed before they peered open, breaking the hardened seal of their natural secretions.

Pupils contracting at the sudden brightness, James stared at the ceiling, his expression morphing into one of confusion.

"M-my lord?" A voice stammered by his side.

Glancing at the speaker, his eyes met that of a woman in her early thirties sitting beside him. The wet towel in her hand was frozen in midair. He was naked; only a plain piece of cloth over his crotch area preserved his decency. The lady was a nurse or caretaker, James decided, admittedly familiar with the lot. Though for some reason she was dressed in a cream-coloured linen dress underneath a brown tunic that faintly pronounced her mature figure. Her hair—one of a darker shade of brown than his and long enough to fall to her shoulder—was hidden partially underneath a cream-coloured wimple for yet another unknown reason. Silently he regarded her as she did him, the worry creasing her face gradually morphing into an expression of barely restrained joy.

"My lord, you have awakened!" The nurse exclaimed to a confused James. His gaze swept around the unfamiliar room, noting it was rather modestly decorated; antique-looking bookshelves at the foot of his bed beside what he assumed to be a study table; a few unlit candles in intricate candlestands dotting the place. To his left, a copper pane polished to a mirror-like gleam hung off the wall beside an open window framed outside by withering ivy and a wall of stone. The room felt comfortable, minimalistic and unfamiliar... Before feeling familiar yet again the next moment.