The young boy, a street urchin given the rags he was wearing, looked around, trying to understand whom the huge, bloodied, and smelly brute was addressing. “What? Me?” the boy asked, pointing the finger at himself.
Ethan nodded confidently and said, “Yes, you, young man. Would you mind pointing me to the nearest place that would accommodate a bed and a bath? Two baths, if what I see from your fellow villagers there casting me the stink-eye is any indication.”
The boy stared blankly at him and blinked a couple of times. Then he turned around and ran away through the crowd of onlookers without a pause. Ethan took a step forward and yelled after him, “Hey! Wait up!”
He was then stopped by a burly man wearing a bloodied apron carrying a butcher's knife on his belt. He only reached up to Ethan’s chest, having to look up at him in the eye, but it did not stop him from saying, “You wait a minute now. What business do you have with our children?”
Ethan looked at the man, and the knife he was carrying, then at the people gathered around them, giving unsure and somewhat angry glances, and said, “Look, I am not looking for trouble. I have been running around the forest for god knows how long. I am just looking for a place to rest and scrub off the filth.”
The man stepped back and asked, “What god? You a guilder?”
Ethan remembered the people wearing mismatched sets of armor attacking the cultists and decided to lie a little bit, “Yea. My name is Ethan. I got separated from the rest of my people and had to trek all the way here. I am on my way to Veer, you see.”
The man nodded, seemingly accepting his quick explanation, and laughed, “You should have said so! And here we thought you were some brute wandering in from the plains. Never know these days.” He chuckled and shook his head.
The man turned around and called out to the onlookers, “It’s all right, people. No need to sharpen your forks today. 'Dis just a lost lad from them guilders. I will show him around.” The gathered people gave Ethan one last look before slowly dispersing, murmuring between themselves while returning to their chores.
Ethan was surprised that it was all it took to convince the large crowd of medieval-looking people and said to the man, “Thanks for helping me out. Is it always like that?”
The man looked at Ethan and sized him up, replying, “Does a huge bloodied brute come into our little Willow every day like that? No. Most days, it is calm as we go about our chores. Taking care of the crops and chasing out stray animals. You know how it is. The name is Vili.” The man shoved his hand toward Ethan for a shake.
Ethan smiled and accepted the gesture, forgetting how it felt to have actual people around to talk to, even from another world. He looked at the hand he was shaking and smiled even more, surprised that such a universal gesture traveled across planets. Or was it universes, realities? He could not know.
The man continued, storing the knife in his belt, “So, lost your team, eh? Happens. Heard that you guilders have had it tough with the increased monster activity in the past year. They say it is the damn sect of the Serpent, steering trouble in these parts.” The man spat and started walking, motioning for Ethan to follow.
Ethan quickly took after him, asking, “What about them? Monsters, I mean. I noticed that you lack a proper wall. How do you fare keeping them out?”
The man laughed again, “Well, that is easy. Your lot does most of the hard work for us. When you happen to come by, rarely, these days. On the other hand, an array buried in the earth around the village's border helps us the most. Cost us a pretty token, but at least now we do not have to call your lot out here each time. More lives saved this way.”
Ethan looked around and noticed that the man had taken him deeper into the village. No, a town, given the number of buildings they were passing. They quickly walked by more and more of the wooden houses, a couple of stone ones popping up around them. Cobbles replaced the dirty and muddy road, and the smells of the farm animals started to disappear.
Ethan noted that the sounds of shouting were getting louder and asked, “Is there a market fare somewhere around here?”
Vili nodded and confirmed, “Well, yes. There is a market nearby, where the inn is located. As for the shouting, the ball of Sommerstice is getting near, and people are busy trading their things before going to Veer for the big event. So it looks like there is bound to be some action around these parts this year.”
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“What do you mean?” Ethan asked the butcher, not understanding what he was leading on.
“Eh, just the rumors. I last heard that the sect has been more active around the area north of here. Some people vanished even around Veer. I have not heard from my distant cousin in a while now. But that is normal. The drunk he is. Either way, people want to make a pretty profit if it turns bad and a war breaks out.”
Ethan thought for a moment back to the clearing filled with people stuffed in cages but decided to keep silent about the event. He shook the thoughts away and asked, changing the topic, “What is this ball? Is it some big fancy event?”
“Ah, yes. The ball. It is just an excuse for the nobles to throw themselves a celebration for another harvest to be well done. Them lot. It is we, the simple folk, who do all of the work,” the butcher said, showing a finger his way, "tend to the fields, make sure to keep the trade going with how far Veer is from any real civilization and so on.”
Ethan looked around and saw that the women in the district they were passing now were dressed in floral print dresses, and the men were wearing simple pants and shirts. The passersby reminded him of people from a Renaissance fair and a stark contrast to the barely dressed people he met at the gates.
“Everyone is invited then to the ball? Seeing how busy people here are,” Ethan asked, pointing at the busy figures around them.
Vili turned back and nodded, “Busy - yes. Invited? No. Only the most important people are allowed into the late duke’s manor. Although, it does not keep us simple folk away from trading goods and services for the people organizing the festivities. While the noble folk are stuffed away in their mansion, we celebrate alone.”
The man stopped abruptly and said, “We are here, young guilder. The finest inn in Willow - the Salty Stew! The innkeeper is a good friend of mine. Let her know that Vili showed you around and pointed to the place. Should give you a nice discount.”
Ethan reached for a handshake, saying, “Thank you for showing me around, Vili. And for helping out with the, well, misunderstanding before.”
The man accepted Ethan’s hand in his greasy paw and said, “No worries, Ethan. It is always good to make some new guilder friends. So, please find me on market street when you have the time. I will give you a taste of some of my finest sausages. A new recipe! Now, I have to return and fetch that pig they promised me. I am sure you understand.”
The man waved at Ethan and walked back toward where they had come from, leaving Ethan next to the cozy and rustic inn nestled in the heart of Willow. He observed the charming wooden building with a thatched roof, its walls adorned with intricate carvings, and large metal lanterns hanging beside the wooden door.
My first inn! I wonder if they will have some pillows, Ethan thought excitedly and stepped inside through the double swing doors, surprised that these medieval people managed to think up such a design, commonly seen only in movies about western America.
Once inside, Ethan’s gaze was met by the common room on the first floor. It was an ample and cozy space, with a large, unlit fireplace at the back next to the receptionist’s desk. The room held several comfortable chairs and sofas for the guests to relax and tables for meals and games.
At one side, Ethan observed a bar of sorts, where a couple of well-dressed patrons mulled about, having drinks and snacks. Then, he noticed a small stage at the other side of the room, no doubt for live performances, next to the large windows leading outside.
Ethan looked at the receptionist's desk at the far end of the room and saw it was made of dark wood. A petite woman with chestnut brown hair, dressed in a simple dress, stood beside it, looking straight at him. Seeing that he stood out after waltzing into the place as he owned it, Ethan blushed and went straight to the reception.
After a few steps, his stride was interrupted by a drunken man in his thirties, dressed in a simple but well-kept white woolen shirt and dark-grey pants. The man stopped and got in Ethan’s face, slurring his words, a cup in hand. “Well, well, look whom we have got here, boys,” the man said, waving to the people behind him.
The men at the bar also stood up but did not join the scene, preparing for the action. The drunken man continued, “Are you lost, you uncultured brute? Do you not see how we nice folk enjoyed our day until your smelly ass showed up here? We do not welcome your kind.”
“What kind is that?” Ethan asked, sizing the man up and not seeing a threat as he did not even carry a weapon. He knew, though, that not all weapons were worn on one’s belt in this world, his storage power being a testament to that. However, it did not change his mind about the man not being a threat in the slightest.
“The type from them plains, you scum,” the man answered and drunkenly swung at Ethan, aiming low at his stomach, given how far above Ethan towered. The punch from the drunk was slow and weak, and Ethan caught it in his hand without much trouble. This guy is slow. Damn. Gloomy would have made short work of him, Ethan thought, smiling at the man, seeing his disbelief.
The man drew a knife from somewhere, and someone yelled in the room, “Jerome! Don’t!” Ethan’s mood instantly soured as he grabbed the man by his nice clothing, picked him up, and threw him across the common room like some ordinary sack of potatoes.