Written by Dr Max Donovan.
Dr Max Donovan.
Chapter One: The First Sleep
Will Hammond had always considered himself a practical man. As a doctor in modern-day London, he was driven by his work, not dreams or fantasies. Yet, the first time he “slept” into the 17th century, his world turned upside down.
It happened without warning. One moment, he was lying in bed, exhausted after a long day at the clinic, and the next, he found himself standing in the middle of a dimly lit street. The air was thick with the stench of mud, waste, and something else he couldn’t quite place. It was nighttime, and the narrow, cobblestone streets were deserted, save for the flickering light of a distant lantern.
Disoriented, Will looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The buildings were impossibly old, with thatched roofs and wooden beams creaking in the night air. The realization hit him like a cold wave—this wasn’t the London he knew. This was something else entirely.
Before he could process what was happening, he heard the sound of heavy boots on the cobblestones. He turned just in time to see two figures approaching, their forms silhouetted against the pale light of the lantern. They were night watchmen, armed and dressed in what looked like military garb.
“Oi, who goes there?” one of the watchmen called out, his voice rough and commanding.
Will’s heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What could he possibly say? That he had no idea how he had gotten here? That he was from a different time altogether?
The watchmen drew closer, their eyes narrowing as they took in Will’s appearance. He was still dressed in his modern pyjamas, a stark contrast to the rough, worn clothes they wore.
“What’s your business here?” the second watchman demanded, his tone suspicious.
“I… I don’t know,” Will stammered, his mind racing. “I think… I think I’m lost.”
The watchmen exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. Then, without warning, the first one grabbed Will by the arm, pulling him close.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” the watchman said, his breath hot against Will’s face. “Your accent’s strange, and your clothes are even strange. Who are you?”
Will struggled to think of a response, but the world around him began to blur before he could speak. The watchman’s grip loosened, and the sounds of the night faded into a distant echo. Will felt a strange sensation as if he were being pulled away, back through time and space.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in his bed, the familiar sights and sounds of his modern bedroom surrounding him. His heart was still racing, his mind reeling from the experience. Had it been a dream? It felt too real, too vivid to be just a figment of his imagination.
He lay there for hours, trying to understand what had happened. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary had occurred—something defied all logic.
The next morning, Will couldn’t focus on his work. His thoughts drifted back to the strange encounter, watchmen, and cold, muddy streets of a world long past. He needed answers, but where could he possibly find them?
As the days passed, Will tried to push the experience to the back of his mind, convincing himself that it had been an unusually vivid dream. But deep down, he knew better. Something had happened to him, something that he couldn’t explain.
And then, one night, it happened again.
This time, he was ready.
Chapter Two: The Trader’s Scheme
The second time Will “slept” into the past, he was in broad daylight. The sun was high, casting a golden hue over the bustling market square. The smells of roasting meat, fresh bread, and something decidedly less pleasant filled the air. The noise was overwhelming—vendors shouting their wares, children laughing, and the occasional clatter of hooves on the cobblestones.
Will’s heart raced as he took in his surroundings. This was no dream. He was here, wherever here was. His modern clothes stood out even more in the bright light, and he quickly realized he needed to blend in to avoid drawing attention.
As he moved through the market, he noticed the stalls were filled with goods he recognized—spices, textiles, tools—but they were all from a different time. He marvelled at sacks of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves, realizing that these were the goods that had been worth fortunes in the 17th century.
And then it hit him—a brilliant, somewhat mercenary idea. If he could bring something from the modern world back to this time, something common and cheap in his world but valuable here, he could make a fortune. The thought made his heart race with excitement. He would start small with something he could easily carry, but the possibilities were endless if it worked.
His first thought was of spices. In his time, a small sack of cinnamon cost a few pounds at most, but here, in the 17th century, it would be worth a small fortune. He could buy a few pounds of it, travel back, and sell it for a hefty profit. But how would he explain where it came from? He needed a cover story, something plausible.
As he wandered through the market, an idea began to take shape in his mind. He would present himself as a foreign trader from a distant land who had come to England to sell exotic goods. It was risky, but it could work if he played his cards right.
But first, he needed to gather some information. He needed to learn this time’s customs, language, and trading practices. He needed to find out who the wealthy buyers were and how to get an audience with them.
He brought a few coins with him – currency of this time. There were some small denomination coins that almost every English boy had in his play box. He would need to find a way to get some before starting his scheme.
As he continued exploring the market, he noticed a small tavern on the square’s edge. It looked shabby, the wooden sign creaking in the wind, but it was busy. A place like that might be a good starting point. He could listen to conversations, pick up useful information, and maybe even find a way to earn some local coin.
With his mind made up, Will headed towards the tavern, his heart pounding with fear and excitement. This was it—his first real step into the past and the unknown.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth and noise of the tavern engulfing him. It was a far cry from his own time’s clean, well-lit pubs. The air was thick with smoke, and the tables were crowded with rough-looking men, their faces shadowed in the dim light.
Will hesitated for a moment but then steeled himself. He had come this far—there was no turning back now.
He went to the bar, where a gruff-looking man was serving drinks. The bartender eyed Will suspiciously as he approached.
“What’ll it be?” the man asked, his voice rough.
Will hesitated, then spoke in what he hoped was a convincing tone. “Just a drink and maybe some information.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he poured a mug of ale and slid it across the counter. Will took it, placing one of his few coins in front of the man. He hoped it was enough.
As he sipped the ale—it wasn’t very pleasant, and not at all like the drinks he was used to—he listened to the conversations around him. He heard talk of trade routes, shipments coming in from the colonies, and prices rising and falling. But nothing that seemed immediately useful.
Then, a voice caught his attention.
“…hear about the new trader in town? Foreign, they say, with goods no one’s seen before.”
Will’s ears perked up. This was exactly the kind of information he needed. He turned slightly, trying to get a better look at the men who were speaking. They sat at a table near the back of the tavern, huddled close together, their voices low.
“Where’s he from?” one of the men asked.
“Who knows? Some say the East, others say the Americas. All I know is, he’s got the merchants talking.”
Will’s mind raced. A foreign trader, someone who was already making waves—this could be his opportunity. If he could find this trader, maybe he could learn from him and learn how to start his operation.
He finished his drink and stood, moving towards the table where the men sat. They looked up as he approached, their expressions guarded.
“Mind if I join you?” Will asked, trying to sound casual.
The men exchanged glances, and then one of them shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Will sat down, trying to hide his nervousness. “I couldn’t help but overhear—this foreign trader you were talking about. Do you know where I might find him?”
The men eyed him suspiciously. “And why would you be interested in that?” one of them asked.
Will hesitated for a moment, then decided to take a chance. “I’m a trader myself, new in town. I might visit him and see if any business can be done.”
The men exchanged another glance, and then one of them nodded. “You’ll find him near the old warehouses by the docks. But be careful—he’s not someone you want to cross.”
Will thanked the men and left the tavern, his mind buzzing with possibilities. The docks were a fair distance away, but he didn’t mind. He was getting closer to his goal, closer to turning his crazy idea into a reality.
As he made his way towards the docks, the streets grew quieter, the bustling market giving way to narrow alleys and shadowed corners. The air was cooler here, carrying the scent of saltwater and fish. The buildings were older and more worn, with the weight of centuries hanging over them like a shroud.
Finally, he reached the docks, where ships of all sizes were moored, their sails furled, and their decks bustling with activity. It was a chaotic scene, but Will’s eyes were drawn to a group of men standing near one of the warehouses. They were dressed in fine clothes, and their posture and demeanour marked them as people of importance.
Will took a deep breath and approached the group, hoping his nerves wouldn’t betray him. As he got closer, he saw they were gathered around a man who stood out even among them. He was tall, with a commanding presence, and his clothes were of a style Will didn’t recognise—rich fabrics, intricate patterns, and a strange blend of colours.
This must be the trader, Will thought, his heart racing. He hesitated momentarily, then stepped forward, clearing his throat to get their attention.
The group turned to look at him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion. The trader’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Will’s appearance.
“Who are you?” the trader asked, his voice carrying a faint accent that Will couldn’t place.
Will bowed slightly, trying to appear respectful but not subservient. “My name is Will Hammond. I’m a trader, and I have recently arrived in town. I’ve heard of your reputation and thought we might do business together.”
The trader studied him for a long moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. “You don’t look like a trader,” he said finally. “Where are you from?”
Will hesitated, then gave the answer he had prepared. “I’m from a distant land, far to the east. I’ve travelled far and wide, gathering goods from many places. I believe I have something to offer that might interest you.”
The trader raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what might that be?”
Will smiled, trying to appear confident. “I have access to spices—cinnamon, cloves, and more. They are common where I come from, but I understand they are highly valued here.”
The trader’s expression didn’t change, but Will could see the interest in his eyes. “Spices, you say? And you’ve come all this way to sell them?”
Will nodded. “I have. And I believe we could both profit from it.”
The trader was silent for a moment, then he smiled, a sharp, calculating smile. “Very well, Will Hammond. I’ll consider your offer. But first, I need to see what you have to offer.”
Will’s heart leapt. “Of course. I’ll bring you a sample tomorrow.”
The trader nodded. “Good. We’ll meet here at the same time.”
Will bowed again and took his leave, his mind racing with excitement. He had done it—he had made contact with a trader, and now he had a chance to turn his plan into reality.
As he made his way back through the narrow streets, he couldn’t help but smile. This was the beginning of something big—he could feel it.
But as he walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
Chapter Three: The First Trade
The next morning, Will awoke with anticipation and nervous energy. The previous day’s events felt surreal, yet the cool breeze from the open window reminded him that this was no dream. He had travelled back in time and had taken the first steps toward something extraordinary—or catastrophic.
His heart pounded as he began to plan his next move. He needed to return to his own time to gather the goods he had promised the trader. It was a risky endeavour—there was no guarantee that he could “sleep” back into the 17th century at will. But he had no choice. If he didn’t deliver, his fledgling venture would be over before it even started.
Will closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. He needed to think clearly. His first priority was figuring out how to return to the present. The previous two times he had “slept” back into the past had happened without any clear trigger. He had been lying in bed, relaxed, drifting off to sleep. Perhaps that was the key—relaxation, a clear mind, and the intent to return to his own time.
With nothing else to go on, Will decided to try recreating the conditions of his initial journeys. He lay down on the small, hard bed in the room he had rented, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his desire to return home. The sounds of the 17th-century city filtered in through the window—distant voices, the clattering of cartwheels, the creak of wooden beams.
He took deep, slow breaths, letting the tension drain from his body. His mind wandered back to his modern life—his small apartment, the constant hum of the city, the steady rhythm of his days. He pictured his bed, the feel of the soft sheets against his skin, the familiar scent of his room.
Gradually, the sounds of the past began to fade. The air around him grew lighter as if a veil were being lifted. He felt a gentle pull as if he were being drawn away, back through time.
And then, just as suddenly as before, he was home.
Will opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his bedroom. The light was streaming in through the curtains, the hum of traffic outside, the faint smell of coffee from the kitchen. It was all exactly as he had left it.
He sat up, his heart racing with relief. It had worked. He had found a way to return.
But there was no time to celebrate. He had work to do.
Will quickly dressed and headed out to gather the supplies he needed. He went to the local market, where he purchased a few pounds of cinnamon, carefully selecting the highest quality he could find. He added a few other spices—cloves, nutmeg—just in case. The total cost was minimal, but he knew that in the 17th century, these goods could fetch a price far beyond their value in his own time.
Returning home, Will carefully packed the spices into a small, sturdy bag. He needed to ensure they would survive the journey intact. Once he was satisfied, he lay down on his bed again, clutching the bag to his chest.
The process of returning to the past was more difficult than he had anticipated. It took several attempts to reach the relaxed state he had achieved before, but eventually, he felt the familiar pull, the sensation of being drawn away.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the small, dimly lit room he had rented in the 17th century. The wooden beams above his head creaked softly, and the air was thick with the scent of old wood and smoke.
Will quickly checked the bag of spices—everything was intact. Relief washed over him as he realized that he had successfully transported goods from one time to another. Now came the real test—selling them.
The trader had instructed him to return to the docks at the same time as the day before, and Will intended to do just that. He carefully hid the bag of spices under his cloak, not wanting to draw attention as he made his way through the city.
The walk to the docks felt longer this time, each step heavy with the weight of anticipation. Will’s mind raced with possibilities—what if the trader was no longer interested? What if he was cheated? What if someone realized he was out of place and questioned him? But he pushed these thoughts aside. He had come too far to turn back now.
When he arrived at the docks, the scene was much the same as the day before. The air was thick with the smell of saltwater and fish, and the busy sounds of dockworkers filled the air. The trader was waiting for him, standing with the same group of well-dressed men, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.
Will approached, keeping his posture confident despite the nervous flutter in his stomach. The trader turned as he drew near, his expression unreadable.
“You’re punctual,” the trader remarked, his voice calm.
“I aim to be,” Will replied, hoping his voice didn’t betray his anxiety.
The trader’s gaze flicked to the bag hidden under Will’s cloak. “Do you have what I asked for?”
Will nodded, pulling the bag from under his cloak and carefully untying the drawstring. He opened it slightly, allowing the trader to see the contents without revealing them to anyone else nearby.
The trader leaned in, inhaling the rich scent of the spices. His expression remained neutral, but Will thought he saw a flicker of interest in the man’s eyes.
“Cinnamon,” the trader murmured, reaching out to look closer. “And cloves. Good quality, too.”
Will remained silent, waiting for the trader to make his move.
After what felt like an eternity, the trader nodded slowly. “This is good. Very good. We can do business.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you offering?”
The trader glanced around, ensuring they were not being overheard. “Five pounds for the lot.”
Will’s stomach tightened. Five pounds was a substantial sum at this time—far more than the spices were worth in the modern world. But he had hoped for more. He had read enough about the value of spices in history to know that they could fetch a much higher price. Still, he didn’t want to push too hard and risk losing the deal.
“Make it six,” Will countered, trying to sound confident.
The trader studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Six pounds it is.”
He reached into his coat and produced a small, heavy pouch, which he handed to Will. Will took it, feeling the weight of the coins inside. It was more money than he had ever held in his hands, even in his own time.
The trader took the bag of spices and handed it to one of his men. “You’ve done well, Mr. Hammond. If you have more goods of this quality, I’m sure we can continue our arrangement.”
Will nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The trader’s sharp eyes locked onto Will’s. “Be careful, Mr. Hammond. This is a dangerous business. There are many who would do anything for what you carry.”
The warning sent a shiver down Will’s spine, but he forced a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With the deal complete, Will made his way back through the docks, the weight of the pouch heavy in his hand. The adrenaline of the transaction slowly faded, replaced by a sense of cautious optimism. He had done it—his first trade in the past, and it had been successful. But the trader’s warning lingered in his mind.
He couldn’t afford to be careless. The stakes were higher than he had ever imagined.
As he returned to his rented room, Will began to consider his next move. The six pounds he had earned were a start, but if he wanted to build something substantial, he would need to expand his operation. He would need to bring more goods, find more buyers, and perhaps even secure a permanent presence in this time.
But with every step forward, the risks grew. He was playing a dangerous game, one that could have consequences far beyond his control.
As he lay down to rest, Will couldn’t help but think about the future—or rather, the past. He had taken his first step into the world of 17th-century trade, but where would it lead him? And what dangers lay in wait?
These questions swirled in his mind as sleep overtook him, pulling him back into the present. When he awoke, it would be with a new resolve—a determination to see his plan through, no matter the cost.
But for now, he allowed himself a moment of rest, knowing that the real challenges were only just beginning.
Chapter Four: The Weight of Gold
When Will woke up in his own time, the first thing he did was check the small pouch of coins he had brought back with him. The weight of the gold in his hand sent a thrill through his body, but it also carried the undeniable gravity of what he had done. This wasn’t just a simple experiment anymore; it was a full-fledged venture into a world of unknown dangers and potentially unimaginable rewards.
He carefully laid out the coins on his bed, counting them slowly. Six pounds’ worth of gold—each coin heavy with history. The currency was different from anything he had ever handled in his own time, and he found himself marvelling at the intricate designs etched into the metal. These coins had been used in transactions hundreds of years ago, and now they were here, in his bedroom, a tangible link between past and present.
But the thrill of success was quickly overshadowed by the realization of what it all meant. This wasn’t just about making money. Every coin he took from the past, every spice he sold, every transaction he made—it all had the potential to disrupt history in ways he couldn’t even begin to understand.
Will sat down on the edge of his bed, the coins glinting in the morning light. He had to be careful. Very careful. He had to make sure that his actions didn’t create ripples that would alter the course of history. But how could he know? How could he be sure that he wasn’t already changing things just by being there?
He knew he couldn’t stop now. He was in too deep. But he would have to tread lightly, always watching, always thinking a few steps ahead.
After carefully storing the coins, Will went about his day, trying to push thoughts of the past to the back of his mind. He went to work, seeing patients, going through the motions of his normal life. But his thoughts were elsewhere, always drifting back to the 17th century, to the people he had met, to the deals he had made.
That night, as he lay in bed, his mind racing with plans and possibilities, he felt the familiar pull of sleep, and with it, the sensation of being drawn back through time.
When Will opened his eyes, he was once again in the 17th century, in the small room he had rented. The air was cool, the sounds of the city muffled by the thick wooden walls. He quickly checked his belongings, making sure the small pouch of gold was still safely hidden.
He needed to exchange the gold for goods he could sell back in the modern world, but he also needed to be cautious. He couldn’t afford to draw too much attention to himself, especially not with the trader’s warning still fresh in his mind.
Will decide to start small. He would sell a few of the coins to a local money changer, someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions. With the money, he could buy more spices, maybe even some textiles, and slowly build up his inventory. It was a slow, methodical plan, but it was the only way to ensure he didn’t get caught.
The money changer’s shop was in a narrow alley off one of the main streets. The building was old, even by 17th-century standards, with a faded sign hanging above the door. Will hesitated for a moment before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The shop was dimly lit, with shelves lined with various coins, ledgers, and bags of currency worldwide. Behind the counter sat a wiry man with sharp eyes and a thin smile. He looked up as Will entered, his gaze immediately drawn to the bag Will held.
“What can I do for you?” the money changer asked, his voice smooth and practised.
Will approached the counter, trying to appear confident. “I have some gold coins I’d like to exchange.”
The money changer’s eyes gleamed with interest as he motioned for Will to place the coins on the counter. Will carefully took out three coins and set them down, watching the man’s reaction closely.
The money changer picked up one of the coins, examining it carefully under the dim light. He weighed it in his hand, then brought it close to his eye, inspecting the markings. After a moment, he nodded approvingly.
“Good quality,” the money changer said, setting the coin back down. “Where did you come by these?”
Will had prepared for this question. “I’m a trader,” he said smoothly. “I deal in various goods, and sometimes that includes currency.”
The money changer nodded, satisfied with the answer. “I can give you a fair price for these,” he said, reaching under the counter for a small set of scales. “But you should know, gold is valuable, but not as much as it once was. The market’s flooded with it lately.”
Will felt a flicker of concern at this news. If gold was losing its value, he would have to adjust his plans. He watched as the money changer weighed the coins, calculating their worth with quick, practiced movements.
Finally, the money changer named a price, and Will accepted it with a nod. The man handed over a small bag of local currency in exchange for the coins, and Will pocketed it quickly.
As he turned to leave, the money changer spoke again, his tone more serious. “Be careful with who you trade with,” he advised. “These streets aren’t as safe as they used to be. There are those who would kill for what you carry.”
Will nodded, the warning echoing the one he had already received from the trader. It seemed that the risks of his new venture were becoming clearer by the day.
With the money safely tucked away, Will set out to make his next purchases. He visited several merchants, buying small amounts of spices, cloth, and other goods that were easy to transport and would be valuable in his own time. Each transaction was a delicate balancing act—getting the best price without drawing too much attention.
As the day went on, Will’s confidence grew. He was starting to get the hang of this—moving between two worlds, balancing the demands of both, and slowly building up his wealth. But with each step forward, the weight of what he was doing pressed down on him a little more heavily.
He was playing a dangerous game, one that could have consequences far beyond his understanding. But the rewards were too great to ignore, and he was too deep in now to back out.
That night, as Will prepared to return to the present with his newly acquired goods, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change. The warnings he had received, the looks he had gotten from the traders—there was a sense of something brewing, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
As he lay down and closed his eyes, willing himself to return home, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was truly in control of this new life he had created—or if he was being pulled along by forces he didn’t yet understand.
When Will opened his eyes, he was back in his own bed, the familiar sounds of the modern world surrounding him. He let out a sigh of relief, but it was tinged with a growing sense of unease.
He had gold in his pocket and goods to sell, but at what cost? And how much longer could he continue without tipping the balance too far?
As he went about his day, Will found it harder and harder to focus on the here and now. His mind kept drifting back to the past, to the world he had left behind—and to the dangers that awaited him when he returned.
He knew he couldn’t stop. The lure of wealth, of power, of something greater than the life he had known was too strong. But as he prepared for his next journey, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the stakes were about to get much higher—and that he was walking at a razor’s edge with no way of knowing when he might fall.
Chapter Five: A Dangerous Proposition
Will spent the next few days in the modern world, trying to focus on his work at the clinic. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to the past. The thrill of his new venture, the sense of power that came with moving between two worlds—it was all-consuming. He found himself constantly thinking about the next trip, the next trade, and the next step in his growing scheme.
The coins he had exchanged were now a mix of modern currency and valuable commodities. He had already planned to sell the goods he had brought back from the 17th century to a select few buyers who would appreciate their historical value without asking too many questions. It was a delicate balance—keeping his activities discreet while maximizing his profits.
Despite the excitement, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The warnings from the trader and the money changer weighed heavily on him. He knew he was taking risks, but he was also confident in his ability to navigate them. After all, he was a doctor, trained to think critically and act decisively under pressure. This was just another challenge to overcome.
One evening, as Will was preparing to return to the 17th century for another round of trading, he received a message on his phone. It was from a colleague, Dr. Jameson, a historian with whom Will had occasionally collaborated on medical research. The message was brief: “Urgent. Need to talk. Meet me at the usual place.”
Will frowned, unsure of what to make of the message. Dr Jameson was not one to use the word “urgent” lightly, and the timing was suspicious. Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to meet his colleague before making his next journey.
The “usual place” was a small, quiet pub on the outskirts of the city, where they had often met to discuss work or share a drink after a long day. Will arrived early, his mind racing with possibilities. What could be so urgent?
Dr. Jameson arrived a few minutes later, looking unusually tense. He greeted Will with a nod and ordered a drink before sliding into the booth across from him.
“Will,” he began, his voice low, “I need your help with something. Something big.”
Will raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What is it? You know you can count on me.”
Dr Jameson hesitated, glancing around the pub as if to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I’ve come across something strange in my research. It’s hard to explain, but it involves time. Time travel, to be precise.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression neutral. “Time travel? Jameson, what are you talking about?”
Dr Jameson looked at him intently. “I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. I’ve been studying a series of anomalies in historical records—discrepancies that shouldn’t exist. At first, I thought it was just poor documentation or errors, but the more I looked, the more I realized something was off. Items appear in places they shouldn’t be, transactions are recorded that don’t make sense, and people show up in records when they shouldn’t even be alive.”
Will felt a chill run down his spine. He had been so careful, so meticulous in his actions. How could Dr. Jameson have found out?
“What does this have to do with me?” Will asked cautiously, trying to gauge how much his colleague knew.
Dr. Jameson leaned in closer. “I think someone is tampering with history, Will. And I think it’s happening from our time. I need your help to figure out who it is and how they’re doing it. We could be looking at something that could change the world as we know it.”
Will forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Time travel? That’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think? Maybe there’s a simpler explanation.”
Dr. Jameson shook his head, his expression serious. “I thought the same thing at first, but the evidence is there. I just need to find a way to prove it. That’s where you come in. You’re a doctor and a scientist—you know how to analyze data and look for patterns. Together, we can figure this out.”
Will felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dr Jameson was getting too close, and if he kept digging, it was only a matter of time before he uncovered the truth. Will knew he had to steer his colleague away from this line of inquiry, but how?
“I don’t know, Jameson,” Will said carefully. “This all sounds pretty speculative. What if you’re reading too much into it? Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
Dr. Jameson frowned, frustration creeping into his voice. “It’s not a coincidence, Will. I know it sounds crazy, but I can feel it—something is happening, and if we don’t figure it out, it could be disastrous.”
Will took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to defuse the situation. “I’ll tell you what—let me take a look at the data you’ve collected. Maybe there’s something we’ve both missed, something that could explain these anomalies without jumping to conclusions about time travel. How does that sound?”
Dr Jameson hesitated, then nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll send you what I have. But Will, promise me you’ll take this seriously. If I’m right, this could be the most important discovery of our lives.”
“I promise,” Will said, forcing a smile. “I’ll look into it, and we’ll figure this out together.”
Dr. Jameson seemed to relax slightly, and they spent the rest of the evening discussing other, less troubling topics. But Will’s mind was racing. He needed to act quickly before Dr. Jameson got any closer to the truth.
That night, after returning home, Will reviewed the data that Dr. Jameson had sent him. As he had expected, several anomalies lined up suspiciously well with his past activities. It was clear that Dr. Jameson was on the right track, and it was only a matter of time before he connected the dots.
Will knew he had to do something, but he couldn’t just shut down his operation. The potential rewards were too great, and he was too deep into it to back out now. Instead, he would need to throw Dr. Jameson off the scent to make the anomalies seem less significant or to redirect his attention elsewhere.
He spent the next few hours crafting a detailed response to Dr Jameson, carefully downplaying the anomalies and offering alternative explanations that, while plausible, would lead his colleague away from the truth. It was a delicate balancing act—enough to satisfy Dr. Jameson’s curiosity without making him suspicious of Will’s involvement.
As he sent the email, Will felt a pang of guilt. He had always respected Dr. Jameson, and deceiving him like this felt wrong. But what choice did he have? He had to protect his secret, and if that meant misleading his friend, so be it.
With that task done, Will prepared for his next journey back to the past. He needed to stay focused, to keep building his wealth and influence in the 17th century. But as he lay down to sleep, the unease gnawing at him refused to go away.
He was playing a dangerous game, one that was becoming increasingly difficult to control. And now, with Dr. Jameson unknowingly on his trail, the stakes had never been higher.
As sleep claimed him, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that he was running out of time—both in the present and in the past.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the 17th century, the familiar sounds and smells of the city surrounding him. But this time, the thrill of adventure was tinged with a new urgency. He needed to move quickly, to secure his position and ensure that nothing—and no one—could threaten what he had built.
But as he stepped out into the bustling streets, he couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep up the charade—and what would happen when the truth finally caught up with him.
Chapter Six: A New Player in the Game
As Will walked through the narrow, cobblestone streets of 17th-century Bristol, the sense of urgency that had been gnawing at him since his conversation with Dr. Jameson only intensified. He needed to stay ahead of any potential threats, both in this time and his own. The city was alive with activity—traders haggling over goods, carts rumbling by with barrels of ale, and the ever-present scent of the sea mingling with the smoke from hearth fires. Yet, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.
The trader he had dealt with previously had proven to be a valuable connection, but Will knew that to truly establish himself in this era, he needed to expand his network. The small, cautious steps he had taken thus far wouldn’t be enough to secure his long-term success. He needed to think bigger, bolder—and faster.
As he made his way toward the docks, where he had first met the mysterious trader, Will noticed a group of men gathered outside a tavern. They were rough-looking, dressed in worn clothes, their eyes sharp and alert. One of them, a tall man with a scar running down the side of his face, caught Will’s gaze and held it for a moment too long. Will quickly averted his eyes and continued walking, but the encounter left him uneasy.
When he reached the docks, the trader was there, just as before, surrounded by his usual entourage. But this time, something felt different. The trader’s demeanor was more guarded, his eyes scanning the area as if he, too, sensed a shift in the atmosphere.
“You’ve returned,” the trader said as Will approached, his tone neutral but with an edge that hadn’t been there before.
Will nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “I have more goods to offer. If you’re still interested.”
The trader studied him for a long moment, then motioned for Will to follow him to a more secluded spot near one of the warehouses. Once they were out of earshot of the others, the trader spoke in a low voice.
“Things are changing in this city, Mr. Hammond. There are new players entering the game—men who aren’t as forgiving as I am. You need to be careful. Your… origins make you an easy target.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
The trader leaned in, his expression serious. “There are whispers in the streets, talk of a man who comes and goes like a ghost, trading goods no one’s ever seen before. People are starting to ask questions, and not all of them are friendly. The wrong kind of attention could bring trouble.”
Will swallowed hard, the weight of the trader’s words settling over him like a shroud. He had been so focused on his own plans, on his own gains, that he hadn’t fully considered the broader implications of his actions. He had tried to be discreet, but it seemed that his presence had not gone unnoticed.
“What do you suggest?” Will asked, his voice betraying his concern.
The trader was silent for a moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he spoke. “I can protect you, for a price. But it won’t be cheap. And you’ll need to play by my rules.”
Will’s mind raced. The trader’s offer was tempting—protection was exactly what he needed—but the idea of being beholden to this man made him uneasy. Still, he didn’t have many options.
“What kind of price?” Will asked cautiously.
The trader’s smile was cold. “A percentage of your profits and exclusive access to your goods. You sell to me, and only me. In return, I’ll make sure no one bothers you. And I’ll help you navigate the… complexities of doing business in this city.”
It was a steep price, but Will knew he didn’t have much of a choice. The trader was offering him protection in a world where he was increasingly out of his depth. And as much as Will disliked the idea of giving up control, he knew that without allies, he wouldn’t last long in the dangerous game he was playing.
“Agreed,” Will said finally, extending his hand. “But I expect that protection to be ironclad.”
The trader took his hand, his grip firm and cold. “You have my word. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, no harm will come to you.”
They sealed the deal with a handshake, but as Will walked away, the uneasy feeling in his gut only grew stronger. He had secured the trader’s protection, but at what cost? He was now tied to a man he barely knew, a man who clearly had his own agenda. And the scarred man he had seen earlier, with the predatory gaze—he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger, something far more dangerous than he had anticipated.
As Will returned to his rented room, he considered the implications of his new arrangement. The trader’s protection was a double-edged sword—it offered him safety, but it also bound him to a man whose motives were far from clear. He was no longer just an independent trader; he was now a pawn in a larger game, one that he didn’t fully understand.
That night, as Will prepared to return to his own time, the sense of unease lingered. He was accumulating wealth, yes, but at what cost to himself and to history? Each trip, each transaction, drew him deeper into a web of intrigue and danger, and he couldn’t see the end of it.
When he finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he felt the familiar pull as he was drawn back to his own time. But the thrill that had once accompanied these journeys was now tempered by a growing sense of dread. He was in too deep, and the realization that he might not be able to control the forces he had set in motion weighed heavily on him.
As Will awoke in his modern-day bed, the morning light filtering through the curtains, he knew that he couldn’t turn back now. The game was in motion, and all he could do was play it as best he could. But as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out—both for him and for the carefully constructed life he had known.
The city outside was waking up, the sounds of modern life filling the air. But Will’s thoughts were far away, in a time long past, where danger lurked around every corner, and where the stakes were higher than he had ever imagined.
And as he prepared to face another day, he knew that the next time he returned to the 17th century, he would have to be more careful than ever. Because the game had changed, and the players were closing in.
Chapter Seven: A New Opportunity
Will Hammond’s venture into the 17th century had started as a practical, if audacious, attempt to capitalize on the value of spices like cinnamon. However, as the dangers surrounding his trade grew, particularly after his encounter with Samuel Fletcher, Will realized that he needed a new approach—one that would offer not just wealth, but also the protection of powerful allies.
The idea came to him in a moment of quiet reflection while he was sitting in the dim light of his rented room, pondering his next move. The whispers of a particularly dangerous and incurable disease had reached his ears more than once since he started moving through Bristol’s social circles. Syphilis—the great pox—was a scourge that afflicted the wealthy and the poor alike, its ravages leaving despair and death in its wake. In this time, it was a sentence of suffering, with no reliable cure and only dubious, often harmful treatments available.
But Will knew something the people of this time did not. In his world, syphilis was no longer a death sentence. It was treatable with a simple course of antibiotics—medication he could bring back with him, just as he had done with spices. And unlike cinnamon, which was merely a luxury, the cure for syphilis was a necessity—one that people would pay handsomely for, especially those with wealth and influence.
The question was: who could benefit most from such a cure?
Will’s answer came one afternoon while he was in a tavern frequented by the city’s merchants and traders. He overheard a conversation between two men sitting at a nearby table, their voices low and cautious but not cautious enough.
“Sir Edmund’s in a bad way,” one of the men said, shaking his head. “They say he’s been wasting away for months. The doctors don’t know what to do with him.”
The other man leaned in, lowering his voice further. “It’s the pox, no doubt. Half the city knows, but no one will say it out loud. He’s kept it quiet, but it’s only a matter of time before it’s too obvious to hide.”
Will’s ears perked up. Sir Edmund Carver was one of the wealthiest men in Bristol, a merchant with connections to the most powerful families in the city. If Sir Edmund truly had syphilis and was desperate for a cure, this could be the opportunity Will had been waiting for.
He stayed in the tavern longer, discreetly listening to the men as they talked. They spoke of how Sir Edmund had tried every remedy available, from mercury treatments to herbal concoctions, but nothing had worked. His condition was worsening, and soon, he would be forced to withdraw from public life entirely—a disgrace for a man of his standing.
Will left the tavern that evening with a plan forming in his mind. He needed to find a way to approach Sir Edmund without arousing suspicion. Offering a cure for syphilis out of the blue would be too direct, too dangerous. Instead, he would start by offering his services as a physician, slowly gaining the merchant’s trust before revealing the true nature of his remedy.
The next day, Will made his way to Sir Edmund’s grand house, a stately mansion on the city’s edge. He presented himself at the door as a travelling doctor with knowledge of rare and effective treatments, offering his services to the household. He emphasized his experience and the discretion with which he handled his patients’ affairs—a key point for someone like Sir Edmund, who had much to lose if word of his condition spread.
After some hesitation, the household staff allowed Will to enter. He was led through the grand halls, filled with fine tapestries and polished wood, to a private room where Sir Edmund lay bedridden, his once-strong frame weakened by the relentless progress of the disease.
Sir Edmund was a man in his fifties, his face marked by both the passage of time and the ravages of his illness. His once sharp eyes were dull with pain and fatigue. As the young doctor was introduced, he looked at Will with a mix of skepticism and faint hope.
“I understand you have some expertise in treating ailments that others cannot,” Sir Edmund said, his voice weak but still carrying the authority of a man used to command.
Will nodded, his demeanour calm and professional. “I have travelled far and wide, Sir Edmund, and I have learned techniques and remedies that are not yet known in this city. I believe I can help you.”
Sir Edmund’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You claim much, Doctor Hammond. Many have come before you with promises of cures, but none have succeeded.”
Will met his gaze steadily. “I do not make promises lightly, sir. But I ask for your trust and a little time. Let me examine you, and I will tell you if I can help.”
Sir Edmund hesitated, then nodded, signaling his consent. Will approached the bed and conducted a thorough examination, noting the telltale signs of syphilis—sores, rashes, and the subtle but unmistakable signs of the disease’s progression. It was as the rumours had suggested: Sir Edmund was in a bad way, and his condition would only worsen without intervention.
After completing the examination, Will stepped back, his expression grave. “Sir Edmund, I believe I can treat you, but it will require a rare and costly remedy. The treatment is not something found in your apothecaries—it is from a distant land, where I learned it during my travels.”
Sir Edmund’s eyes flickered with a mixture of hope and suspicion. “And what is this remedy, Doctor? How can I be sure it will work?”
Will produced a small vial of antibiotics from his bag, holding it carefully as if it were something precious. “This is a medicine unlike any you have encountered. It attacks the disease at its root, purging it from the body entirely. But it is powerful and must be administered with care.”
Sir Edmund stared at the vial, the scepticism in his eyes gradually giving way to desperation. “And what do you ask in return for this… miracle?”
“A fair price,” Will replied, his tone measured. “But more importantly, your discretion and your trust. I ask that you tell no one of this treatment, save those who may also need my help.”
Sir Edmund considered the offer for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Very well, Doctor. If you can cure me, you shall have whatever you ask.”
Will administered the first dose of the antibiotics, carefully explaining how Sir Edmund should take the remaining pills over the next few days. He could see the flicker of doubt in the merchant’s eyes, but also the glimmer of hope that had been absent for so long.
“I will return in a few days to check on your progress,” Will said, rising to leave. “Until then, rest and follow my instructions carefully.”
As Will left the mansion, he felt a sense of cautious optimism. If the treatment worked as he knew it would, Sir Edmund would be indebted to him, and the doors to Bristol’s elite would open wide. The cinnamon trade, once the focus of his ambitions, now seemed insignificant compared to the wealth and influence he could gain by curing syphilis. The rich and powerful would pay anything to be free of the disease, and they would protect the man who held the cure.
Over the next few days, Will continued his rounds in the city, treating other patients for minor ailments while waiting for word from Sir Edmund. The waiting was nerve-wracking, but Will knew he had to be patient. His plan depended on the treatment’s success.
Finally, a messenger arrived at his door, summoning him to Sir Edmund’s house. Will’s heart raced as he made his way there, knowing that this visit could determine his future in this dangerous time.
When he arrived, he was greeted with unexpected warmth and gratitude. Sir Edmund, though still recovering, was a changed man. The symptoms that had plagued him were fading, his strength slowly returning. He looked at Will with something approaching reverence.
“You’ve done what no other doctor could,” Sir Edmund said, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve saved my life. Tell me what you wish, Doctor Hammond, and it shall be yours.”
Will allowed himself a small, calculated smile. “All I ask is a fair payment for my services and that you speak well of me to those who might also need my help.”
Sir Edmund readily agreed, offering a sum that exceeded Will’s expectations. But the money, though significant, was not the real prize. The true value lay in the connections Will had just secured—the loyalty and protection of one of the most powerful men in Bristol.
Word of Sir Edmund’s miraculous recovery spread quickly among the city’s elite, and soon, Will found himself in high demand. The wealthy and influential, desperate to avoid the stigma and suffering of syphilis, sought him out, willing to pay whatever he asked for the cure.
The cinnamon trade, once the cornerstone of his plan, now seemed trivial. The money and influence Will gained from treating syphilis far surpassed anything he could have imagined. And with every successful treatment, his power and security in this world grew.
But even as Will revelled in his newfound success, he knew the dangers had not disappeared. Samuel Fletcher was still out there, a looming threat that could strike at any time. But now, Will had allies, protection, and resources he could use to defend himself.
For now, he was in control. But he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. The game he was playing was more dangerous than ever, and he had to be ready for whatever came next.
As he prepared to return to his own time that night, Will knew that his path had changed irrevocably. He was no longer just a trader; he was a healer, a man with the power to change lives and command the loyalty of those who mattered.
But in the back of his mind, the question remained: How far was he willing to go to maintain his newfound power? And what would happen when the delicate balance he had created unravelled?
Only time will tell.
Chapter Eight: The Fortune and the Fame
The months that followed Sir Edmund Carver’s miraculous recovery were a whirlwind of success for Will Hammond. What had begun as a calculated risk had turned into an unstoppable force, propelling him to heights he had never imagined. The cure for syphilis, a simple course of antibiotics in his time, had become the most sought-after treatment among the wealthy and powerful of 17th-century Bristol.
Sir Edmund’s recovery spread like wildfire through the city’s elite circles. Soon, Will received requests from the most influential families in Bristol and beyond, each willing to pay handsomely for his services. He quickly became the doctor to the rich and famous—a man whose name was whispered in reverence behind closed doors.
The wealth that came with this newfound fame was staggering. Every successful treatment brought in gold and silver by the bagful. At first, Will tried to convert the precious metals into modern currency, but he soon realized that the sheer volume of his earnings made this increasingly difficult. The local money changers could only handle so much without arousing suspicion, and even in the 21st century, suddenly acquiring large amounts of historical coins could draw unwanted attention.
Frustrated by the limitations of converting his fortune, Will began stashing the gold and silver in his modern-day apartment. It wasn’t long before every drawer, cupboard, and hidden nook was filled with carefully wrapped bundles of coins, each worth a small fortune. The sight of them—hundreds, maybe thousands, of glittering gold coins—was intoxicating but also daunting. He was amassing a treasure trove, but managing it was becoming increasingly difficult.
In the 17th century, however, Will was careful to maintain appearances. He maintained his persona as a humble yet skilled physician, always mindful of the dangers of too much attention. Yet, no matter how discreet he tried to be, the fame surrounding him only grew.
The wealthy sought him out, desperate for his cure, and Will became a fixture in Bristol’s grand houses and estates. He dined with merchants, lords, and ladies, each eager to secure his services or recommend him to their peers. With each new patient, his influence expanded, and so did his wealth.
But with fame came complications. The more successful he became, the more he became in the intricate web of 17th-century politics and society. The powerful families he treated were grateful, yes, but they were also demanding. They sought favours, tried to pull him into their rivalries, and expected him to choose sides in disputes he barely understood. Will knew that one misstep could undo everything he had built.
Even more troubling was the problem of his wealth. While he could spend a portion of it in the past—on fine clothes, lavish accommodations, and gifts for his patients—there was only so much he could do without drawing suspicion. And so, the gold and silver piled up, a growing mountain of wealth that he couldn’t fully utilize.
The duality of his life began to weigh on him. By day, he was the famous Dr. Hammond, healer of the rich and powerful, moving through the opulent world of 17th-century Bristol. By night, in his own time, he was a man burdened with a secret fortune, the weight of which pressed down on him more heavily with each passing day.
One evening, after a particularly exhausting day of treating a prominent lord who had begged for discretion, Will returned to his rented room in the past and found himself staring at a small chest filled with gold coins. The sight of it, once thrilling, now filled him with unease.
He had more wealth than he had ever dreamed of, but it was becoming a problem he didn’t know how to solve. The logistics of transporting so much gold between centuries were complicated, and the risks of being caught with it at either time were growing. He couldn’t simply deposit it into a bank without raising eyebrows, and stashing it in his apartment was becoming increasingly impractical—and dangerous.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts as he sat there, contemplating his options. It was one of his trusted messengers, a young man he had employed to deliver messages and gather information discreetly.
“Doctor,” the messenger said, bowing slightly as he entered the room. “You’ve received another request for your services. A lady of great standing—Lady Eleanor of the Pembroke estate. She needs your expertise and has offered a considerable sum for your assistance.”
Will nodded, though his mind was still preoccupied with the problem of his wealth. “Thank you. Tell her I will see her tomorrow.”
The messenger bowed again and left, leaving Will alone with his thoughts.
Lady Eleanor Pembroke was one of the most influential women in the region, known for her connections to the royal court. Treating her would not only bring in another fortune, but it would also solidify his position among the upper echelons of society. Yet, as tempting as the offer was, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a dangerous line.
His fame was spreading faster than he could control, and with it, the potential for exposure grew. The wealthy might protect him now, but loyalty was fickle, especially when driven by fear and greed. He had seen how quickly favor could turn, how alliances could shift with the changing winds of fortune.
And then there was Samuel Fletcher. Though Will managed to avoid confrontation with his rival, he knew that Samuel hadn’t forgotten about him. The man was patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. Will’s success had certainly not gone unnoticed, and it was only a matter of time before Samuel made his move.
As night fell, Will returned to the present, the chest of gold coins weighing heavily on his mind. Back in his apartment, he added the latest stash to the already overwhelming collection, the sight of it now filling him with a sense of unease rather than satisfaction.
He needed a plan—a way to manage his wealth, protect himself from the dangers of his growing fame, and outmaneuver Samuel Fletcher before it was too late.
But as he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. The fortune he had amassed was both a blessing and a curse, and the fame that came with it was drawing more attention than he had anticipated.
His game had become more complex, and the stakes were higher than ever. And as he drifted off to sleep, Will knew that he had to find a way to maintain control—before the fortune he had built became the very thing that destroyed him.
Chapter Nine: The Weight of Time
The gold and silver coins stacked in Will Hammond’s apartment were not the only things accumulating rapidly. With each passing day, the consequences of his actions in the 17th century were beginning to manifest in ways he hadn’t anticipated—ways that went far beyond mere wealth.
At first, it was subtle. Will would notice small changes in how people behaved or the conversations he overheard. A merchant who had once been desperate for a cure spoke confidently of expanding his trading ventures. A nobleman who should have been gravely ill was planning a new alliance that Will knew had never existed in the history books.
The more Will treated the wealthy and influential of Bristol, the more he began to realise the true impact of his actions. He was saving lives that, by all historical accounts, should have ended prematurely. These people were supposed to die, leaving behind no heirs, no legacies—yet here they were, alive and thriving, making decisions that rippled out into the world around them.
On one of his trips back to the 17th century, the full weight of these changes began to dawn on him. He had been summoned to the estate of a merchant who had just brokered a significant deal that would alter the flow of goods throughout the region. As Will treated the merchant, he couldn’t help but think back to the history lessons of his youth. This man was supposed to have died years ago, a victim of syphilis, his trading empire collapsing in his absence. But now, thanks to Will’s intervention, he was alive, and his influence grew.
Will left the estate with unease that deepened with each passing day. He began to see the effects of his interference everywhere he looked: marriages that should never have happened, children who should never have been born, and business ventures that were altering the course of trade in ways that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
The final straw came when Will overheard a conversation between two soldiers at a tavern. They spoke in hushed tones about a nobleman who had recently survived a near-fatal illness—a nobleman Will had treated months before. His survival had encouraged him to challenge a rival, sparking a series of skirmishes on the verge of escalating into a full-blown conflict.
A war that had never been mentioned in any history book was now a very real possibility.
Will returned to his rented room, his thoughts swirling with fear and confusion. The implications of what he had done were staggering. He had altered the fates of countless people—people who were now making decisions that could reshape the world in unpredictable ways.
How far could this go? What would the 21st century look like if he continued down this path? Would he return to a world he no longer recognized, a world where the history he had once studied had been rewritten by his hand?
The thought sent a chill down his spine. He had been so focused on the wealth and power he was amassing that he hadn’t fully considered the broader consequences of his actions. He was no longer just a traveller between times; he was a force of change whose influence spread far beyond his control.
I will spend the next few days in a state of near-paralysis, unable to decide what to do next. He couldn’t stop thinking about the people he had saved, the lives he had altered, and the potential consequences that were unfolding because of it. Whenever he thought about returning to the 21st century, a deep sense of dread filled him. What if everything he knew had changed? What if the world he had known no longer existed?
He found himself returning to his apartment more often in modern times, pacing restlessly among the piles of gold coins. They no longer represented wealth or success to him—they were a constant reminder of the ripple effects he had set in motion.
One evening, after returning from yet another lucrative but troubling trip to the past, Will sat in his apartment, staring at the vast amounts of gold he had amassed. The coins glinted in the dim light, mocking him with their silent, heavy presence. He had thought he was in control, but now it was clear control had slipped through his fingers.
He wondered if there was a way to undo what he had done. Could he somehow reverse the changes he had set in motion? But the very thought of trying filled him with despair. The web of connections, the lives intertwined by his actions, was too complex, too far-reaching. Pulling one thread might unravel the entire fabric of history.
And what if he did nothing? What if he continued down this path, treating the rich and powerful, allowing them to survive and thrive when they were meant to die? How much longer before the world he knew was irrevocably altered?
The thought terrified him. Would he one day return to the 21st century only to find it unrecognizable? A world where the advancements he took for granted had never occurred, or worse, where civilization had taken a darker turn because of the ripple effects he had set in motion?
Will felt trapped by the weight of his success, by the fortune he had accumulated and the fame that had spread far and wide. The very thing that had once thrilled him now filled him with dread. He had tampered with the fabric of time, and the consequences spiralled out of control.
As he sat there, paralyzed by indecision, Will knew he had to make a choice. He could try to withdraw from the past, stop treating the sick and wealthy, and hope that history would somehow correct itself. Or he could continue down this path, embracing the changes he had set in motion and accepting whatever future they led to.
But could he stop? Could he walk away from the power and wealth he had gained from the influence he now wielded in both centuries? The thought of returning to a life of anonymity, of leaving behind the fortune he had amassed, was almost as terrifying as the idea of a world he no longer recognized.
Will knew that whatever his choice, there would be no going back. The die had been cast, and the future was in his hands.
But as he prepared to return to the 17th century, the dread in his heart deepened. The world was changing, and it was his doing. And he could only hope that the consequences of his actions wouldn’t destroy everything he had ever known.
Chapter Ten: The Final Decision
Will Hammond sat in his modern-day apartment, surrounded by stacks of gold and silver coins, the fruits of nearly a year of work in the 17th century. The sight that had once filled him with a thrill of achievement now felt like a burden—a constant reminder of his decisions and the lives he had altered. The room, once tidy and orderly, was now cluttered with evidence of his time-travelling exploits: chests filled with gold coins, ancient silver ingots, and carefully wrapped parcels of rare artifacts.
He had been avoiding this moment for days, maybe even weeks. But now, as the sun set outside, casting long shadows across the room, Will knew it was time to face reality. He began counting the coins, meticulously organizing them by type and weight and calculating their total value in today’s currency.
It took hours. The room was silent except for the soft clinking of metal as he counted, his thoughts racing. He tallied up the gold sovereigns, the silver shillings, and the rare Spanish doubloons that had found their way into his collection. As the final count came in, Will stared at the sum written on the paper before him.
Thirty million pounds sterling.
It was a staggering amount, more money than he had ever dreamed of having. With it, he could live comfortably for the rest of his life—luxuriously, even. He could invest it, turn it into even more wealth, and secure his future without ever having to work again. The temptation to continue was strong, to see how much more he could accumulate, but the fear gnawing at him was stronger.
He had spent nearly a year travelling back and forth between the 17th century and his own time, and in doing so, he had done more than just accumulate wealth. He had changed lives, altered fates, and, in the process, possibly rewritten history itself. The consequences of his actions were already starting to show—trading ventures that shouldn’t have happened, noble families that were flourishing when they should have died out, and even the possibility of a war that was never recorded in any history book.
The fear growing inside him—the fear that he was changing the world in ways he couldn’t control—had finally reached a breaking point. He had saved lives meant to end, and in doing so, he had created a ripple effect that could have untold consequences in the future. If he continued and kept treating the rich and powerful, the changes might become irreversible. He might return to a 21st century he no longer recognized.
And that was something he couldn’t risk.
Will’s decision had been building for some time, but now, with the total value of his fortune staring back at him, it crystallized into a hard, unyielding resolve. He would not return to the 17th century. He would not treat another patient nor alter another fate. He had amassed enough wealth to last him a lifetime—more than enough. It was time to stop.
But the decision was more than just about money. It was about the realization that he was playing with forces far beyond his control. He had entered the past with the idea that he could make a fortune and then leave, no strings attached. But history was not something you could simply dip into and out of without consequence. Every action he took in the past reacted, and those reactions were starting to pile up in ways that frightened him.
Will carefully packed the last coins into a chest, sealing it tightly. He had already made arrangements to invest some of his newfound wealth in various low-risk, high-return ventures. The rest would be kept in reserve, a safety net allowing him to live out his days in comfort and security.
A sense of finality settled over him as he closed the lid on the final chest. He was done. The 17th century, with all its opportunities and dangers, was behind him now. He would not return. He would not risk further altering the fabric of time, not when the consequences could be so far-reaching and unpredictable.
Will sat down in his armchair, exhausted but relieved. The decision had been hard, but it was the right one. He had seen enough, done enough. It was time to live the life he had secured for himself.
For the first time in months, Will felt a sense of peace. The fear, the anxiety that had been his constant companions, began to fade. He could finally rest, knowing that he had made the right choice—difficult though it had been.
As he looked around his apartment, free of the clutter of gold and silver, Will allowed himself a small, contented smile. The future was his again, and this time, he would face it without the weight of the past dragging him down.
He had made his fortune, and now he would make his life.
Epilogue: A World Unchanged?
Months later, Will sat on the terrace of his new country estate, overlooking rolling hills and lush gardens. The world around him seemed peaceful, unchanged—just as he remembered it. There were no signs of the catastrophic alterations he feared or evidence that his actions had irreparably altered history.
And yet, now and then, a small doubt would creep into his mind. Had he truly escaped the consequences of his time-travelling adventures? Had the ripples he created faded, or were they still out there, spreading across time, waiting to catch up with him?
The world seemed stable now, and Will was content to leave the past where it belonged—in history. But in the quiet moments, when the wind rustled through the trees and the sun dipped below the horizon, he would sometimes wonder what might have been.
But he had made his choice, and he would live with it. The past was behind him, and the future, whatever it held, was his to shape.
And that, he decided, was enough.
Other books by Dr Max Donovan: The Great Imposter.