Actually it was the Swedish government that had done that, complicated by the fact that I was living in a room in somebody’s house in Sweden. I could understand everything perfectly well –it was one of those dreams in which everybody seems to speak Common– but reading was another matter. I had a law book, illustrated with fiction explaining the impact of each law on ordinary people, but of course it was in Swedish and I could (very realistically for Swedish) tantalisingly almost read it. Fortunately there was a girl of about nine around who could read Swedish. Just as she was about to do that, people started swapping the furniture in the room with another room in the same house, so nothing came of it.
Someone, perhaps the girl’s mother, asked me to find out about marriage laws when I had the book anyway, but I could only find one mention of marriage which didn’t have anything to do with a law about it.
Later, I found that I could read words, fragments and whole sentences that were almost like Dutch, and puzzled out a story about an old lady and a couple of cats. It wasn’t the worldbuilding ban she was affected by, but I read the story as well as I could anyway. Helpfully, the world around me reflected the events of the story: I was then at the side of a canal or moat with a small island in the middle where a tabby cat was washing a ginger kitten.
I did manage to find out that the worldbuilding ban only applied to “imagining a different world with the intention to deceive” but it wasn’t clear whether fiction and roleplaying counted as deception, so I kept the existence of Valdyas to myself.