Before even opening his eyes, Arthur could feel something was not quite right.

Last he knew, he was in his soft cozy bed in his London flat, bundled in quilts with a plush pillow. The red digital lights showing the time on his alarm clock were the only thing breaking the pitch black darkness of the room. His smartphone was on the nightstand, face down while charging, next to a modern English translation of Don Quixote.

Now, as he thought he was rolling onto his side in a light stage of sleep, he could feel that something was different. He was no longer bundled in blankets, nor was his head on a pillow. His body lay against something harsh and unforgiving, not the cozy plush bed he fell asleep on. As he paid attention to the sensation of not being in his bed, he felt a flutter of wind brush against his back, and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was wood. Not the solid wooden decor of his nightstand or dresser, but the bark on the trunk of a fallen tree. Rolling from his side to his back, Arthur looked up past the log to see lush green trees rising upwards, and a clear sky far beyond.

"I'm in the woods?" Arthur muttered to himself, "How the bloody fuck did I end up in the woods?"

Arthur pushed himself up into a sitting position, only to notice the boots on his feet. He cautiously scanned his body from the feet up, observing what had replaced the pyjamas he wore to bed. A simple pair of brown breeches covered his legs, an off-white tunic covered his torso, and a green cloak draped behind him and around his shoulders. The materials were lightweight and of simpler design, working with wool and cotton. It was an outfit he would've worn when travelling through the wild woods a few centuries ago. Perhaps not classy enough for the London season, but practical enough for exploring his own forests in medieval time.

"Well, at least this outfit isn't too ridiculous," Arthur noted, "Then again, I don't know where I am, or even when I am."

Arthur climbed to his feet, sat straight up on the log and observed his surroundings. The forest stretched out in all directions, without a break of an edge in clear sight. The trees varied in size, some young and short, others thick and tall, showing a diversity of age that human interaction has not interfered with. There were no clear trails through the plants and logs on the ground to denote regular human activity.

Catching movement in the corner of his eye, Arthur spun right and saw a deer entering the clearing. Although he was clearly in its line of sight, the deer paid him no heed, ignoring him in favour of finding a savory plant to nibble on. The forest was particularly peaceful and quiet, with only the occasional chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind above.

The deer's head suddenly shot up alert, staring at something in the distance to Arthur's right. He slowly turned on the log to see if he could see what got the deer's attention, but the large tree blocked his line of sight. After a silent minute, the deer quickly bolted, running through the clearing past Arthur, before an arrow sped past Arthur's head and landed in the deer's thigh as it leapt over the log. As the deer landed on the other side of the log, the back leg gave out as the deer collapsed from the shot.

Arthur stood from his spot, turning back to look past the tree and find who had made that shot. Much to his surprise, two very familiar nations were riding up to him on their horses, wearing hunting outfits that were commonly used a few centuries ago. The first rider's outfit was of good quality and styled more as a uniform, while the second rider's outfit was far more elegant and ornate. They both carried bows, with quivers of arrows on their backs, and swords were sheathed on their belts.

"Hello Kiku, I am glad to see you," Arthur greeted the first rider, "What on earth is going on here? How did we end up in a forest, dressed like this?"

"Forgive me, sir, but I do not recognize you," Kiku countered with a bewildered expression, "Have we met before?"

"Of course we have, what do you mean?" Arthur blurted in confusion, "I am Arthur Kirkland, the nation of England. You are Kiku Honda, the nation of Japan, and behind you there is Ludwig Bielschmidt, the nation of Germany!"

"Kiku, who is this man?" Ludwig asked as he reached the pair, "Why is he here?"

"I'm sorry, your Highness, I don't know what he's talking about," Kiku replied, "He knows both our names, but I have never met him. Do you know this Arthur Kirkland, sir?"

"No, I do not know him either," Ludwig answered, "Arthur Kirkland, what brings you here to my brother's royal hunting grounds?"

Arthur held his tongue as he considered his answer. Clearly, Kiku and Ludwig did not recognize him, that was clear. Also, if Ludwig was referring to this place as his brother's royal hunting grounds, then Gilbert was likely nearby and somehow of royal importance.

"Forgive me, sir, I am incredibly confused," Arthur spoke, carefully choosing his words, "I have no idea how I ended up in these woods, or where these woods are. I fell asleep in my bed in my home, and woke up beside this log here only a few moments ago. I do know the two of you where I am from, but I don't know why you don't recognize me here."

Ludwig watched him like a hawk, and Arthur could tell the man wasn't sure whether to believe the claims.

"That is the strangest story I have ever heard," Ludwig stated.

Before anything else could be said, a horse neighed in the distance, and all three of them turned to look over. Two more riders were approaching, and Arthur quickly realized they were Prussia and Switzerland, or at least this strange world's version of them. Both of them were dressed ornately, like Ludwig, but Gilbert's outfit was certainly the gaudiest.

"Luddy, Kiku, what's this all about?" Gilbert demanded, "Who's the trespasser?"

"His name is Arthur Kirkland, your Majesty," Ludwig explained, "He claims to not know where he is, or how he ended up here in the woods. He somehow knows our names and recognizes us, even though we have never met him."

"That's quite the unusual story," Gilbert agreed, "Tell me, Arthur, do you know who I am?"

"Yes, I know who you are as well," Arthur replied, "You are Gilbert Bielschmidt, and with you is Basch Zwingli. Please pardon my lack of knowledge of any titles or courtesies I should be using when addressing you all."

"You somehow know who we all are," Basch inquired, "but you do not know that Gilbert is a King? Or that Ludwig is a Prince and I am a Duke?"

"That is correct, sir," Arthur affirmed, "Where I come from, none of you have those titles. We do all know each other well, though, in a way that is difficult to explain."

"He made references to us as being nations, whatever that means," Kiku added, "He referred to himself as the nation of England, me as the nation of Japan, and Prince Ludwig as the nation of Germany. I have no clue what he speaks of."

"Arthur's telling the truth," Basch declared, prompting everyone to look at him as he closely watched Arthur.

"Is he really?" Gilbert checked, "Can we trust him then?"

"Yes, he can be trusted," Basch vouched, much to Arthur's surprise.

"Well then, that settles it," Gilbert concluded, "Arthur, you will join us at the palace as my guest. There, you can tell us all about your strange world and how you ended up here in the Inasdiff royal hunting grounds."

"I would be honoured, your Majesty," Arthur accepted, "Inasdiff, you say? Is that the name of this place?"

"Inasdiff is the name of the nearby city, where the Royal Palace is located," Gilbert clarified, "You are in the Kingdom of Ixaidel."