Hospitality

He was atop a small hill that overlooked a town in the near distance, one that seemed bustling with people, and for the first time–he realized where he was. By the stone walls that stood tall, the horse-pulled carriage that pulled in through the front gates, and the armored guards that stood at those very gates, he realized it for the first time.

Is this a fantasy world? He thought.

Descending down the flourishing, verdant hill that was followed by a bountiful stretch of lively grass and colorful flowers, neighbored by trees on the road to the city gates, he felt some intrigue towards this world for the first time.

Just before reaching the front gates, he realized just how insane he would probably seem to the guards. All he wore was a makeshift, shoddily-made loincloth of leaves, held together by flexible roots. He himself was dirtied by the natural essence of the forest, and not being able to properly bathe since he arrived.

…Is this going to be a problem? He thought.

He had no notion of how this world functioned, or what would happen upon approaching the front gates, but as he saw it, there was no other option.

After he began walking again, a carriage passed him by as the stomps of the horses pulling it momentarily shook the road he traversed, catching his eye for a moment as he continued on.

The front gates were formed of engraved stone, decorated by exuberant, light-blue flags that proudly displayed the sigil of a dragon on its front. He could barely make it out, but it looked as though bow-wielding guards occupied a higher-layer of the gates, overlooking the front road.

As he reached the front gates, he could already see the guard clad in silver, uniformic armor giving him an odd look.

The guard looked to be middle-aged by the age on his somewhat tan face, and the bushy, burgundy mustache he displayed while standing with a spear rested by his side.

"Halt, traveler."

He stopped in front of the guard, as he planned.

I didn't exactly plan on just walking in without his permission, anyway, he thought.

"State your name," the guard demanded.

For a moment, he stood in silence as he debated on what name to give him, stopping himself as he almost gave his original name off of pure instinct.

This is my chance–to start something new, he thought.

"Traveler, your name," the guard repeated with a hint of impatience to his words.

He looked at the man dressed in standard, silver armor, "It's Elias."

"Elias?" The guard confirmed, squinting his eyes.

There was no special reason he chose that name, but it came to his mind, for some reason. Perhaps it was by sheer chance, being forced to choose on the spot, but it was the name he chose for himself.

"You're…clearly not from around here, are you?" The guard asked, looking at his peculiar wardrobe, or lack thereof.

"I…"

"Do you have family in Garzgania? Any relatives?" The guard added another question.

"..."

He didn't know how to answer, and what fate awaited the answer he would give as he looked down, checking his suspicious looking self as well.

As he paused to find an answer, the middle-aged guard let out a sigh before walking into the passageway past the gate, waking up the guard that was slumbering at a table.

"Wha…?" The youthful guard looked up at the man with saliva sticking to his cheek and the table.

"Abraham, take over my shift for a few hours," the mustache-man told him.

The youthful, blonde-haired guard immediately woke up, blinking a few times as he sat up, "Huh? No way! I just got done standing there all day, old man!"

Letting out a sigh, the older guard took off his helmet as his neatly-kempt, burgundy hair fell, "I'll treat you to a couple mugs tomorrow, how about that?"

Abraham smiled, seemingly trying to hide his satisfaction with that answer as he promptly stood up, picking up his spear as he took the old man's post at the front gates, "You got it!"

He was left perplexed at what was going on before looking at the middle-aged guard, he waved for him to follow through the interior of the chamber gate passageway.

"That kid sure is a handful…" The man sighed, opening the door that led inside of the gate itself, rather than going directly into the town.

Following the guard inside what looked to be the quarters of the wall guards, stocked with spears, swords, and shields, he was perplexed.

Am I being arrested? He thought.

"...What's going on? Where are you taking me?" He asked.

The man didn't answer as he began to remove his uniform armor, taking it off and setting it in the proper arrangements of the armory as he was left wearing a simple, short-sleeve, black tunic and light-brown trousers.

"The name's Klaus, by the way," the guard introduced himself.

"I don't get it…" He responded, "what's going on? Are you arresting me?"

Klaus looked at him puzzled for a moment before releasing heart laughter, much to the confusion of himself.

"I'm going to get you cleaned up, kid. You won't make it very far beyond the walls of Garzgania dressed like that," Klaus told him, tossing some spare garments he retrieved from a wooden trunk, "And, I'd reason to bet you wouldn't mind a warm meal, either?"

Catching the clothes tossed his way, he stood there in silence and perplexion, unable to process what the man was telling him for a moment.

"Hurry up, would you?" Klaus told him like a doting father.

Coming to, he slid his legs through the gray trousers given to him, sliding the long-sleeved, black tunic over his torso before strapping on the laced, sable boots supplied to him as well.

"A perfect fit, huh?" Klaus smiled warmly, "It's a bit of a waste to wear those now when you're definitely going to need a bath when we get home, but I'll just find you another change of clothes–don't worry."

Klaus then had him follow him through the guard station, going towards a more roundabout entrance directly into the city to avoid going through the bustling streets.

Standing there for a moment after being given new, fresh clothes, he looked at the middle-aged man.

"What's the matter, kid?" Klaus asked.

"Why're you doing this? Helping me, I mean," he asked.

Klaus looked at him for a moment, bashfully scratching his head, "I've got a kid around your age. A real standup guy, really. That's all. I can tell you've had it rough out there–it's a tough world; harsh and unforgiving to us all."

"That's all?" He repeated.

The man huffed, "Are you coming, or what?"