Under the full moon, John trod through the grassy plains. He left the edge of the forest as the vine walls were impenetrable. His eyes were set at the trace of lights, a sign of human settlement. But his pace was too slow. If there was a turtle by his side, it would have won by a mile.

Rather than making haste, his eyes were at a ring as his fingers fiddled around it. It was the Ring of Queen Lilium, a glossy oaken ring with veins of sparkling silver. Looking at it, reminded him of Fellelone.

‘Man, I’m hopeless. Why the hell do I always fall for someone this easily?’

He had to admit, at first he was surprised by her unique appearance. But he grew to love her. The sincerity she shown in her eyes, her words, and her body was enough for John. To him, she was still beautiful like that lady he met at the pond.

‘Wake up, John,’ a resounding slap echoed in the silent night of the plains. His glazed eyes vanished as he knew what he needed to do. ‘Everything has a reason, John. If Fellelone can’t get out of that forest, then I’m the one who’s going to break her out of there.’ John was resolute, firming his will once again. There was no good in lamenting what had happened and the best course of action was to rise up and exceeded her expectation. With his mindset changing, his pace started to pick up.

‘I promise you, Fellelone, I will get you back. No matter the cost.’

By the time he picked himself up, John had reached the gate of the settlement. The wooden walls guarded the settlement at eighteen feet in height. Torches burned on top of the wall as guardsmen patrolled around the perimeter.

“Who goes there?” a voice came above.

John craned his neck up and found a guardsman aiming an arrow at him. He put up his hands in the air and retreated a few steps for the guardsman to see. “I’m friendly,” John shouted to the top of his lung, hoping the guardsman could hear him.

“Your hood, take it off,” the guardsman said.

John complied without question. He pulled back his hood and revealed himself at the man doing his duty.

“Clear!” the guardsman shouted and retracted his arrow from the bow.

A few seconds later, he heard the creaking sound of the door being opened. From afar, he could see the silhouette of a person with a spear in his hand.

“Make haste, lad!” shouted the man covered by the shadow.

John picked up his sword on the ground and jogged right at the gate. He slowed down his pace as he reached the gate but a hand grabbed him strong by the shoulder. A sudden force pulled him inside and he almost stumbled on his feet. The cranking of metal and wood rang behind him. Whoever it was that pulled him was probably locking up the gate again.

He turned and a man roughly his height stood before him. A shaggy beard decorated the face of a man with heavy dark circles. The stern frown over his face grew deeper. His eyes scrutinized John from top to bottom as if he was seeing an alien in disguise.

“Are you hurt?” he asked in a gruff tone.

John shook his head. Again, the man with the commanding tone looked him up and down.

“How about yer head?”

“I’m fine,” John didn’t know what he meant by his head. But then came a surprise slap right at the side of his head.

“What was that for?” John groaned and jumped back. He rubbed the spot that he got hit as his eyes demanded an explanation over this unnecessary violence.

“That’s for being a fool,” the bearded man exclaimed, pointing his finger at John. “If your head is fine, you shouldn’t be out there wandering in the night. You could have got yourself kill…do you want your parents to drown in their sorrows for a foolish act done by a foolish son?”

John was outright being scolded by a stranger. Unknowingly, he stood like back when he was being punished by his teacher in elementary school. Hands to the front and feet width apart. ‘Shit, the heck am I getting scolded for?’

While he lamented his fate, a man came swooping to save his day.

“Cut the boy some slack, Gunther,” said a man with a clear resonating voice. The newcomer descended the stairs as his metal grieves clanged with every step he took.

‘Boy?’ John questioned the reason for being called as such.

“Why would I? An idiot like this needs a good scolding, he’s lucky I’m not hitting him,” said Gunther.

“Excuse me?” John squinted his eyes. He couldn’t believe what this oaf just said. “Hey, you literally just hit me.” John wanted his justice.

“Bah, that’s just a little nudge” Gunther scoffed. “What are ya? Some kind of wuss? Even a child wouldn’t complain over that.” Gunther crossed his arms and looked away.

John was fuming. He was a rational man at heart. If possible, he would avoid unnecessary confrontation. To him, dealing with something like this back on earth would only be exhausting and nothing else. But tonight was different. Being separated from Fellelone was still affecting him. It would be a lie if he got over it that quickly. With his eyes turning cold, the man who fell in love too easily clenched his fist as tight as the Gordian Knot.

‘Fuck it,’ he threw his rationale out of the window for tonight and he advanced.

“Now, now, now. Let’s not get things heated up, shall we?” the man who called John a boy came right in between the two men. “It’s a beautiful and calm night, and let’s make it stay that way, won’t you agree?” He looked at John and his gaze carried a warning.

“Gunther, apologize to the man,” said the man with a sharp gaze.

“What? Why would I? An unruly kid like this needs–”

“Gunther!” the man with metal grieve raised his voice, shutting Gunther down. “He’s a Nomad. Apologize to him right now.”

Gunther stared at John with questioning eyes. Realizing what kind of clothes John was wearing and how different it was to theirs, snapped Gunther’s mind in the right direction.

“Forgive me, it’s my mistake,” Gunther nodded curtly.

The man who seemed to be the leader of the guardsmen gave John the look as if saying, ‘are you satisfied?’

John exhaled slowly. With how things went, it seemed there was no chance of berserking for the night. “Fine, I accept,” John said.

“Good,” the man said. “Gunther, I think your shift isn’t over yet. Go back on the wall, and while you’re at it, wake Jose up. I think he’s sleeping again.”

Gunther left without looking back. Now there were two.

“So what’s a Nomad doing here? I thought your kind would never step in this backwater town of ours,” said the man.

Judging from how he called him a Nomad, John got the gist of who he was in this strange new world. But without any knowledge about this world, playing dumb might play to his advantage. “I’m sorry, but what’s a Nomad?”

The man widened his eyes for a second there. “Oh, is it that time of the year again?” he pondered for a while then looked at John. “You’re a greenhorn, aren’t ya. But how–” he cut himself off as the clueless look on John was enough to tell him.

The man sighed. “Come on, bud. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do, and it wouldn’t do standing out here in the cold.” He tapped John’s shoulder and led the way.

‘About time,’ John hid a smile and followed the guardsman. He had been waiting for an explanation since that big cat’s killing spree and tonight he would have his answer.

The road was dark and empty. Torches by the side of the road barely shone the dirt path. Looking around, the buildings were at best two-story high. ‘Is it me or are this whole road and the buildings around it feel so similar to that old cowboy movie that my dad always watched.’

John wasn’t entirely wrong. If it wasn’t for the shade of the night, he would have seen the aesthetic of the whole town, mimicking the wild wild west setting.

“Mind the door, the Master doesn’t like it when people slam his precious mahogan door,” the man pushed the door and the light fell on John’s eyes. He squinted as it had been a while since he saw this much light during the night.

His vision adjusted to the brightness, and there he saw where he was. “Woah,” his eyes scattered around, taking in this rustic view that he had always seen on the television screen.

The wooden bar counter was long and dark. Wooden seats lined in front of the counter and the rest of the floor was filled with tables and chairs. They looked like old antiques as if everything was carved from the same block of wood. Yet the thing on the ceiling drew his attention the most. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the wooden ceiling, its warm yellow light fell upon everything beneath it. It made John thought, ‘is that electric?’

“Nomad, the door!” the man’s shout snapped John from his trance.

John turned and grabbed it by the handle. His fingers almost slipped from the weight, but he did it. The door was inches away from slamming its entire weight at the door frame, and John just saved his own ass.

“The lad did it!” a rough-looking man yelled as he stood in his chair. He rose the mug in his hand in the air, and shouted, “huzzah!”

The whole saloon followed his lead and shouted in unison. Their ear-splitting merry cry rumbled John’s eardrums. He didn’t know stopping a door would lead to this and it didn’t stop there. The patrons then clinked their mugs with each other and chugged it all down like a festival. Some of them dropped on the floor while some staggered on their feet. This wasn’t just a saloon as nothing fit this whole scene better than a blend between a medieval tavern and a western saloon.

“Nomad!” the guardsman who brought him here beckoned to come over at the counter.

John weaved through these merry people as the smell of pipeweed, heavy drinks and a hint of something sweet wafted in the air. He found a seat beside the guardsman and by chance met eyes with the person behind the counter.

Hair combed to the back with a handlebar mustache that defined his overall dapper look. Even with a classy-looking tunic, the man exuded an aura of a debonair man.

“Thank you for not slamming the door like these miscreants. I paid a fortune for that door and the door frame,” said the debonair man as his hands were wiping a mug clean. “And for that, anything you want for tonight is on the house.”

“Generous like a saint, you’re the light of this town, Master, and for that offer, I would like a—”

“Bugger off, Randal. The offer is for the Nomad, and not you,” said the Master. His eyes were cold like ice stones. Pointless freebies weren’t his kind of thing.

“So what would you like?” the Master asked.

“Do you cook here?”

***

The Master and Randal stared in shock. John was gorging himself plates after plates of hot piping cooked food. He ate like he had starved for a whole month. Meat and more meat went down his throat like it was spaghetti. He barely even chewed them as they slipped like they were butter.

After the eight plates of steak, John finally had his fill. He leaned on his chair with the apparent bulge at his belly. ‘Man, that was good. I hate to say it but yodel berries got nothing on these steaks.’

“Where do you find this Nomad, Randal?” Master whispered. “I thought he was about to empty all of my pantries. Do you know how scared to death I am?”

“How the hell would I know, he just popped out of nowhere,” Randal replied.

Suddenly, the saloon’s door was slammed wide open, crashing against the side of the wall. The Master sighed in defeat. “Great, another bloke who doesn’t know how to follow simple instructions.”

“Captain!” from the leather armor, and the spear in his hand, it was a guardsman. His frantic eyes found Randal by the counter. “There are beasts at the walls.”

“What?” Randal jumped on his seat and gave a slight glance at John. “Let’s continue this tomorrow. You can find me at the guardsman station at noon. And Master, give the nomad a room, he needs it.”

The Master nodded and Randal went off with his clanking metal grieves.

With Randal gone, John didn’t know what to do. His eyes found the Master.

“Would you like me to show me your room?” the Master asked.

John nodded.

The Master brought him to the second floor and gave John the room with the front window. He was about to leave but John stopped him.

“Wait,” he said.

“Do you need anything else?” the Master asked.

John rummaged through his hoodie pocket and managed to grab something in his pouch. He took it out and handed it over to the Master. “I felt bad for dinner just now, so I hope this might cover the cost at least.”

A gold coin dropped on the Master’s palm and his calm demeanor broke into a thousand pieces. His eyes bulged open as he brought the gold coin closer for inspection. “It’s real,” the Master said in his low voice. His eyes shifted to John as if he saw a real saint in the flesh. The Master was almost to tears just from staring at him.

But alas, the gold coin in his hand wasn’t fated to be his.

“I know this is rude of me for not asking first, but may I be blessed with knowing your name, sir?” the Master turned a bit more polite than usual. He even angled himself to a small bow, showing his respect to the nomad in front of him.

“It’s John, John Creed,” he said. “Is there a problem with my coin?”

“No, not at all, Sir Creed. It's just that my poor establishment doesn’t have the required wealth to pay back your change,” the Master said.

“Oh, it’s fine. You can just take it,” John nonchalantly replied. “If there’s nothing else than I’d like to—” as John tried to close his door, the Master held him off.

The Master’s head jutted in between the door as his eyes gave a fervent look at John. “Are you sure, Sir Creed?”

John began to frown. “Yes, I’m sure. So can you leave me now, please?”

The Master realized his graceless action. He pulled himself back together and apologized. “If there’s anything you need, I will be at the beckon of your call, Sir Creed.” Finally, he left.

John closed the door and locked it from the inside. He lay on the bed yet it hardly could be compared to the one in Fellelone’s bedroom. He fell in a daze as his mind was straying to those short memories he had with her. Yet before he could delve deeper, the blue window interfered.

At least a shine of light amid his darkness came for him. Yet things took a quick turn.