Game Of Thrones: A Wizard In The World Of Westeros (ASOIF)

It had taken a lot of convincing, but I managed to get the city guards to let me in, claiming to be a traveler from the East who had been knocked unconscious while running away from some bandits.

Luckily, these people spoke English, or I would have been royally screwed.

It was also fortunate that my speech was different from theirs. Strangely enough, they spoke in northern English accents, though their terminology was old, something I would have expected from someone in the Middle Ages. It reminded me of some books in the Hogwarts Library which were written in this manner.

A little difficult to understand, but not impossible; something which led credence to my story, considering foreigners who hadn't mastered the language took a few moments, carefully choosing their words so as not to sound like idiots.

Of course, with my modern vernacular, some words I used were completely lost on them. I adapted fairly quickly, I thought an hour later as I voraciously tore into a plate of steak and potatoes. 

The owner of the establishment in the city grounds— a man who looked to be well in his fifties, with balding grey hair and a large, fuzzy beard— had given me a strange look at the request, but complied at the sight of the small stack of Knuts I had placed on the counter.

After a few questions, and my assurances that the coin I had was authentic copper, the owner took only two, handing me the rest as he went to work, preparing the food.

An honest man; I was half expecting him to take it without question. It was a refreshing thing to see; people with integrity, I meant.

I took a short break from the food, thinking about how I got here as I idly chewed on one of the potatoes— it wasn't quite cooked, but I didn't really give it much thought, more concerned of the method with which I got there.

The guards at the gate had told me I was someplace called Torrhen's Square. I pretended I understood and gave a few fake smiles of relief, and they ended up letting me in out of general pity and amusement at the situation.

As to how I arrived here...

Mundus and I were in-between Realms, and the Demon Emperor had trapped me there, thinking that, while he may have lost the battle, he still ensured his eventual victory.

My hand trembled slightly as I realized I might have starved to death. Or, did the laws of physics even apply to me in there? Perhaps I would have lived forever, in between the realms, unable to contact anyone I knew.

There was no way to tell, I thought as I shook my head.

I had torn a rift with Erebus; the Dark Rift, a way to enter a realm that was closely intertwined with my own. The one I used to be in, I meant.

Could I do it again, here?

"No." Erebus' voice was heard, and I quickly looked around, making sure no one was listening.

"I am speaking in your mind." Erebus answered with amusement. "The Dark Rift will not gain us entry to our home world."

So it is impossible, I thought.

"I do not know." Erebus replied. "At the very least, we should take stock of our situation and attempt to find the higher powers of this world."

How were we supposed to do that?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned to see a few unsavoury looking men, eying me hungrily— more specifically, the pocket I had pulled my coins out of. They must have heard the heavy jingling of coin.

Hah, thieves, here? Not that they could open my pocket to begin with, seeing as it was enchanted to open only to me.

It would take a wizard of some skill, as the general dispels like "Finite Incantatem" did not work— assuming there were other wizards here, at all.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked lightly, still munching on the potato as if there were no cares to be had in the world.

The man scratched his head, looked at his friends, turned to the owner who gave him a stern, almost angry look, before shaking his head and backing off.

"The stupidest thief on the planet." I half-smiled, despite my own feelings of despair at my situation. "In plain day, trying to steal."

"I would not judge him so harshly, er..." The owner gave me a quizzical look, not knowing my name.

"Harry Potter." I answered, seeing no need to go by any other name.

"I can't say I have heard of House Potter." The owner said, scratching his chin. "Are you from the Westerlands?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I shook my head. "Ah, no. I come from a land far in the East, to learn of the cultures of this continent."

The owner of the inn nodded, satisfied with the information. "Then, later you will feast on a dish of my choosing—a personal favorite of mine. I trust you'll be spending the night?"

I nodded. "Of course. How much is it?"

I had nowhere else to go, anyway.

"I don't rightly know." The inn keeper said. "I'm afraid that the coin you have is quite different to the coin we use. In our coinage, it is twenty five coppers a night."

I winced. "Do you know anyone who can exchange what currency I have for your local coins?"

"Ah." The old man said, scratching his bearded face slightly. "It is near the center of the town, in the Market Square; simply make a right as you exit the inn and walk straight forward. It is no local shop, but rather, a travelling tradesman with a cart. He calls himself 'the collector'."

I hid a grimace. The guy would probably swindle the crap out of me, knowing that the currency I was using would not be accepted anywhere.

"Just get some of these coins so I can understand their shape, size and make, and I'll convert your own, for you." Erebus interrupted my thoughts with his own.

I perked up at the information, before giving the inn keeper a nod, dismissing him so I could finish the last few bits of my meal. 

I patted my stomach in satisfaction, before sneaking a look at the cupful of alochol I had gotten. Mead, I thought, as I took a sip.