The Frugal Wizard's Handbook for Surviving Medieval England

by Brandon Sanderson

Blue jeans? With a tunic and cloak? That was odd. Oh hell. Was I a cosplayer? And why could I remember that word, but not my own name?

Maybe I was simply a weirdo who liked to dress in old-timey clothing to…go explode in fields? You know, as one does.

The review almost wrote itself. An ideal experience, if you happen to be a pyromaniac cow. One star.

I patted the tree I’d been hiding behind. “Thanks for the cover,” I whispered. “You’re a good tree. Tall, thick—and most importantly—wooden. Four and a half stars. Would hide behind you again. Half a point off for lack of refreshments.”

It was time to make my move. Like the old saying goes. Carp diem. Seize the fish.

Yes, this knowledge is often attached to the arcane or unseen in the stories—but what is magic but a science not yet discovered?

Horses were less the thundering creatures of pounding hoofbeats and unparalleled speed found in movies and more like golf carts that ran on a tank of grass and occasionally bit you.

There is no only when it comes to goodness and joy. The smallest amount is as large as the universe, and one boy saved from a pit is a precious work beyond that of any king’s treasury.”

“Do not be ashamed of your joy,” he told us, his voice intense. “Regardless of what aelv Ryan says. This is not a thing of shame. It is why I fight. It is why my sons bled. Never be ashamed of joy.”

I’d assumed an eventual rematch would be a way to take back my dignity. Turns out, nobody can take that from you. You’ve got to throw it away.