I will be crowned king

"Ahem... Anyway... I seem to have... traveled through time."

Anson, who was coughing and trying to stay calm, said to himself.

Although he is still very nervous and scared now, he only vaguely remembers that he had a headache when he fell asleep, and he doesn't know who provoked whom, and what kind of supernatural phenomena resulted...

But I have traveled through time!

This inexplicable extra memory, this uniform, this appearance...even the body is not the same!

Trying his best to suppress his trembling body, Anson stared at the "mirror" in his hand - a nameplate with sterling silver trim and engraved with his name and coat of arms. The reflective mirror could barely make out his face and figure.

Black hair, brown eyes, fair complexion, a little thin, and looks like a musician.

His nervous eyes slightly lowered and fell on the string of names; they were definitely not any symbols, words or letters in his memory, but he could still recognize them:

Anson Bach.

Hmm, more like a musician... Anson wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

The suffix of the name is three overlapping rings, two above and one below. In my memory, this is the symbol of a church called "Order Church".

Taking a deep breath, Anson reattached the nameplate to the left chest of his uniform. In front of him was a spliced ​​wooden table. The overturned ink bottle was two-thirds full of deep black ink, and a stack of books piled on the corner of the table was soaked through.

Even his uniform had large ink stains on his sleeves, and only the diary spread out in the middle of the wooden table was spared.

The scrawled words covered two sides of the paper - those were the memories that "do not belong to him" that he desperately wrote down the moment he realized that he had traveled through time!

Indescribable information and countless memory fragments flooded into my mind; in order to distinguish the memories of two lives and to quickly understand the current situation, I instinctively picked up the "professionalism" of working as a copywriter and writing plans in my previous life.

Anson Bach was born in the countryside of the central province of the Kingdom of Clovis, a low-ranking nobleman, a captain in the Kingdom's army, and a believer in the Church of Order;

At the age of 12, he went to the Royal Mission College for further study. At the age of 16, he was found to have "special talent" and entered the Royal Military Academy for further study. The following year, he was awarded the rank of trainee lieutenant;

After four years of advanced studies, he was promoted to lieutenant with excellent results and was sent to the southern fortress for "training" for one year;

In addition, while in the army, he was "suspected" of joining a shady, heretical wizard organization...

Looking at what he had jotted down in the diary, Anson felt that the corners of his mouth were twitching.

He flipped through the diary along with some memory fragments. It was full of content about an underground organization called the "Old God Sect", as well as "his" changing thoughts in various "shocks".

"True God", "Magic", "The Truth of History", "The Origin of Bloodline", "The Era of Change"... This body with the same name as mine did not panic at all because it accidentally got involved with something that should not be touched. And he knows very well what a miserable end awaits him once his behavior is exposed.

On the contrary, in the diary, the excitement can almost overflow from the words, and similar emotions can also be felt in the memory fragments.

This stupid boy...he is obviously a serious person, why does he have to write a diary?

He even wrote down all his inner thoughts in his diary!

After coughing twice, Anson sighed heavily.

The "former owner" of this body was supposed to join the kingdom's army as a military academy graduate and captain officer after the "internship period" in the southern fortress.

If he was lucky, he might be able to stay in the college or join the logistics department, and his future would be bright; if it was worse, his "amateur interests" would be exposed, and he would be caught and executed as a heretic.

In my memory, the execution method of this "Church of Order" is quite unique. It is not shot or burned at the stake, but tied to the exhaust valve of a steam engine, steamed and then sent to heaven...

Anson shivered.

After figuring out the origin, the next step was the current situation; Anson looked around - he was sitting in a tent, with a bed behind him, a camping bag under the wooden table, a few books and cutlery, and an officer's saber leaning against it. table corner.

Taking a deep breath, the tip of my nose and mouth were filled with dust, and the morning mist mixed with the smell of gunpowder smoke and gunpowder made my already uncomfortable throat even more uncomfortable.

In the ninety-ninth year of the Saint's Calendar, the Hered Empire declared war on the grounds of border disputes and invaded the Kingdom of Clovis from the west, north and southwest.

"Anson Bach" returned as planned on the second day when he got bad news. The only place he had to pass on his way north was Fort Thunder - a military depot, warehouse and fortress - which was attacked and fell immediately. Occupied by imperial troops.

Then he "actively joined" an army that was quickly dispatched to retake the fortress, and became the "supervisory adjutant" of the "First Infantry Regiment of the First Recruitment Corps of Thunder Castle".

This is a battlefield, and I am staying in the siege camp outside Thunder Castle Fortress.

But it's strange: this is a military camp with thousands of soldiers stationed, and it's so crowded that it's so crowded, but the surroundings are surprisingly quiet; horseshoes, footsteps, shouts, volleys of guns... there's no sound at all, except for the faint rumble of cannons in the distance, it's dead silence. It's like a tomb.

Why?

Pressing the uncomfortable throat, Anson shook his head and put the doubt behind him.

I'm not in the mood to care about these external matters now. The most important thing right now is to deal with the sudden extra information in my mind - adapting to the new identity, figuring out what happened to this body during the time travel, his network of connections, and how to solve the problem. That “hobby” in the diary…it all takes time.

Anyway, my side is the one attacking the city, so there is no need to worry about the enemy's attack; I am just the adjutant of the commander of a small infantry regiment, so if the war starts, I can just obey the orders.

It’s not like he just traveled through time and has to carry a gun on the battlefield, right?

"Well, it's not that it's not that...ahem..."

After comforting himself who was still nervous and calming down as much as possible, Anson decided to walk around the military camp outside; interacting with as many people as possible would help him adapt to his "new identity."

If any mistakes are discovered, it is easier for you to find excuses to cover up in a place where there are many people talking.

Stay calm and don't panic. Your identity as an officer is the best cover. Ordinary soldiers will not question you. As a regimental adjutant, hiding in a tent and "disappearing" is more likely to arouse suspicion.

Standing up while holding on to the table, Anson closed the fatal diary and thought about where to hide it; it is definitely safest to carry it with you, but if you are not careful...

"Um?"

Staring at the diary cover with stunned eyes, the dark red that was obviously dyed on it was definitely not the color of the ink, and it was also more viscous than the ink...

Bloodstains? !

Anson vaguely guessed something, and subconsciously looked down at the uniform he was wearing - the Clovis Kingdom's official winter uniform for officers. It was as black as the ink, but he could still detect a little bit of blood red on it.

"This...cough...cough cough cough...cough!"

Coughing violently, an unknown object "took the opportunity" to rush out of his throat and fell on the diary.

The moment his eyes fell on it, Anson's pupils shrank suddenly.

It was a small piece of lead bullet that could not be found if it fell on the ground.

What happened to myself...the owner of this body...?

In the quiet tent, the frightened Anson swallowed hard with his still aching throat.

Suicide by swallowing a gun? No, that's not right...I can't find even a shred of motivation from my memory or diary.

He glanced at the gun at his waist. The leather holster was tightly clasped on the gun handle; he would not commit suicide, and he could still think of putting it back intact.

Either commit suicide or be silenced... In a heavily guarded military camp filled with live ammunition and ammunition, an officer was shot to death...

Cold sweat ran across Anson's temples. Suddenly, he felt that the deathly silence outside was simply unparalleled terror!

Even if someone rushed in to kill him immediately, it would make him feel 10,000 times more at ease than now!

"Plop!"

The sudden sound made Anson turn around suddenly, and a figure rushed into the tent!