You look down at yourself. Your red t-shirt, blue jeans, and silver sneakers are all the same. You look at your reflection in a shop window. It looks normal—medium-length dark brown hair, dark brown eyes framed by glasses, a decently handsome face (for a 16-year-old), and a bit of stubble because you haven't shaved in a few days. You at first don't know why everyone is so shocked about you until it hits you—everyone around you is wearing shades of brown in clothing that suits the era, but you're wearing colourful modern clothes.
Someone calls the guards and you begin to panic. "No, wait, please, I can explain!" you begin, but the guards attempt to seize you. You punch one in the nose and he roars in anger. They grab you and tie your arms behind your back, and put a gag over your mouth.
"You've got a meeting with the king," one of them says.