(Somewhere in Wales)
"That's a weird place for a door." I couldn't help but whisper as I stared at the object placed on the back garden of my late grandfather's manor through the Master bedroom's window on the 4th floor.
Intrigued, I head down the stairs and walked out towards the garden before approaching the strange door.
I inspected it as I walked around it before frowning in thought.
"Hmm..." I reached my hand out towards the knob and touched it before slowly pushing the door open.
(CREAK)
To my disbelief and confusion, instead of seeing the other side of the garden, I see lush, green fields completely unobstructed by none in contrast to the sullen-looking backyard here on this side surrounded by many tall trees. The sky inside is also clear and blue, compared to the cloudy and moody ones above me.
I take a quick walk around the door and sees the same, but different scenery on the other side.
I went back to where I was standing before with a befuddled expression as I tried to figure out how the door works with logic.
When I came up with nothing plausible in mind, I walked forward to test it and grabbed onto the frames before stepping my foot inside.
When I did, I feel a breeze brushing it, much to my astonishment before fully walking through the door.
I looked around with my mouth hanging low as I took in the beautiful sights while also standing my ground against the force of the wind billowing upon me.
"...Wow." I mouthed.
The scenery is like something from a movie in a HD TV or an edited picture. Clean and breathtaking.
I looked behind me to see if the door is still there and, much to my relief, it is.
I reached my hand out to the other side and, just like getting it out from a freezer, I could instantly feel the difference between the breeze from the one over there and the one over here.
I pulled back my hand and looked around again, this time, much more clearly before seeing something in the distance.
I squinted my eyes to see that it was a town that I'm seeing.
Something struck me as odd as I stared at it but I couldn't really tell because of how far the town is from my current position.
I looked back at the door with an uncertain expression.
I'd seen this trope before a couple of times on the internet and on the TV. I wanted to go to that town and explore, but I'm afraid that the door would disappear on me while I'm doing that, leaving me stranded in an even more unknown location than the one of where my grandfather used to live.
I took out my phone from my jeans and activates it before checking the signal.
None, whatsoever.
That... didn't exactly fill me with confidence as that was actually even worse.
If the door disappeared on me, then I wouldn't be able to call for help until I get near the range of the nearest cell site, and from what I could see from my rather good position, I can't seem to find any of that in the distance.
I have two choices here. I can go back to the comfort of my dead grandfather's manor and waits there for a couple hours to see if the door would disappear or not or I go take a risk and go to that town now and hope for the best that the obviously magical door wouldn't disappear on me when I wanted to go back.
The first choice seems to be the most logical and safe, so I choose that one without a second thought.
I put my phone back into my pocket.
Besides, I hasn't finished unpacking and exploring the manor yet. One thing at a time, right?
I turned around and walked back to the garden.
I closed back the door but then paused and opened it again to see if the field is still there and, much to my relief, it is.
I closed the door again and heads back for the manor.
A few hours have passed since I stepped foot into that grassy fields, and that door on the back still hasn't disappeared yet.
It is now midday. During the time I was unpacking all of my stuff into the Master bedroom and explored every single nook and cranny of the manor that I inherit from my grandfather, my mind was filled with nothing but constant thoughts about that door.
For example. How did a door like that even possible? How long since it existed? Did grandpa knows about it? If so, where did he keep it all this time? Because I certainly would have remember such a weirdly placed object when I visit here in the past.
Whatever it is, I intend to find out where it leads to. And that town... something about it bothers me.
Once I cooked and eaten my lunch, I changed my clothes into a more fitting ones for the occasion that I'm about to bring to myself.
A black shirt, a brown jacket, silver wristwatch, black fingerless gloves, black cargo pants, and black buckled boots.
Right now, I'm currently in the middle of putting necessary and important things into my backpack (also colored black) to prepare myself in case if the door finally decides to leave me while I'm on that other side.
Once I'm done putting everything in, I slung my backpack onto my shoulder and walked off towards the back garden.
I put my hand on the knob of the door and, with a heart filled with anxiousness, pushed it open to reveal a familiar green field.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I stepped through the door and closed it behind me.
(CLICK)
I looked towards the direction of the town before moving my feet forward.
Once I had walked a fair distance from the door, I nervously looked behind me to check if it's still there before turning away in relaxation when I see that it is.
Judging by my wristwatch, it took me at least 45 minutes of walking just to get near the edge of the town.
Now that I'm closer, I can see why the sight of the town bothers me so much.
The buildings they're made of and how they are designed are the cause. Their structures are made out of timbers, their windows are made of flattened animal horns, and the roof are made out of thatch. Furthermore, their designs are old, like, something you would only imagine during the early medieval times.
As I gets closer to the town's edge, I spotted the town's entrance being guarded by two men holding a spear each and wears chainmail and iron armor with the British's color proudly emblazoned on their tunics.
'Either they are just cosplayers, or they're actual guards who cosplays.' I couldn't help but think.
The two noticed me as I approached the entrance.
They both took on a much more stiffer posture and one of them raised his hand towards me.
"Halt! Speak your name and intentions clear, stranger!" The guardsmen demanded me in an old English dialect.
I stopped and took a moment to process that.
'Guards or no, they're dedicated at least.' I shrugged mentally before deciding to play along.
I took a deep breath.
"My name is James, Smith!" I answered clearly just as they wanted. "You could say that I'm a wanderer, of sorts."
It was another peaceful, and ordinary day for the two men guarding the main entrance of the town called Caer Gai.
Milton of Faircloughe were chatting with his fellow guard and buddy, Greysen of Algere to alleviate their boredom when he saw an unknown lad walking towards them.
The lad wore strange, black and brown clothing and is carrying a big, and oddly shaped satchel in his right hand.
He and his buddy tensed up and gripped their spears tightly.
Milton raised his voice and hand at the boy.
"Halt! Speak your name and intentions clear, stranger!" He demanded with as much authority and bravery as possible.
The lad stops and is silent for a moment before he took a deep breath.
"My name is James, Smith!" He answered loud and clear. "You could say that I'm a wanderer, of sorts."
"A wanderer, you say?" Greysen repeated sceptically, and for good reason.
Milton look the boy up and down.
The lad is not like any other person he had met.
First and foremost, he is not dirty in the slightest, rather, it's the opposite.
In fact, the man is quite sure that the boy is the most cleanest thing he had ever seen in his 30 years of life. Not even the nobles in town is as clean as him.
Second, is his smell.
Milton of Faircloughe had lived in Caer Gai for a long time, and he had grown used to the bad odor of other peasants who reek of sweat, manure, and piss. Hell, he had even gotten familiar to the smell of those very same nobles, but they are nothing compared to the aroma the boy exudes.
He had never smelt something so fragrant and nice before, it almost made him want to get close to the lad and sniff him out until he couldn't. Almost.
Thirdly, is his body posture.
Judging by the way the boy carried himself then and now, the lad is not weak or frail like other peasants do, meaning that he is well-fed and has a healthy constitution, which makes sense as to why he was able to travel all the way here without problems.
And lastly, his clothes and satchel is unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
The lad said that he is a wanderer, so maybe he's a child of some noble who runs away from home?
Milton couldn't rule out the possibility of the boy being a Saxon scout who wants to see if the town was worth raiding or not just yet though.
He had to make sure if the lad is what he said he was.
"May I check your belongings?" He asked the lad as he offers his hand out.
Milton expected a harsh rejection from the boy, but was immediately proven wrong when the lad easily cooperates and hand over his satchel to him just like that.
'Cooperative and willing to let a common guard touch his stuff. Definitely not the usual run of the mill noble brat. If he even is.' The aforementioned guard thought.
Milton grabbed the strange black-colored satchel but was totally unprepared by its weight as he stumbles forward.
'What the...? What did he put into this thing?' The man wonders as he planted his spear down on the ground and lifted the slightly heavy satchel with his two hands before walking back to where he was before.
The man inspected the black satchel, trying to figure out how to open it.
'Are you serious?' I thought as I watched the guard? fumbles with my backpack.
How can he not know how to open it? I looked at the other guard?
And why isn't he helping him?
"...Here. It's like this." After a while, I walked forward and grabbed the main zipper.
Their tensing didn't go unnoticed by me as I opened my backpack easily for him.
The satchel let out a weird noise as the boy opens it.
Greysen and Milton relaxes a bit as the lad backs away a few steps.
The guard looks down at the satchel and proceeds to take out one of the items inside. A small, brown-colored container box made out of unknown material covered by a white-colored lid.
Milton inspects the object, turning it over.
"That's..." The man looks at the boy as he speaks. "My dinner."
The guard puts back the small container box inside the satchel and pulled out another object. A pot completely made out of shiny steel.
Milton stared at it, flabbergasted.
Steels were known to be a rare, highly precious, and hard to make material, for a cooking pot to be completely made out of it, the lad either got lucky and found an exceptional blacksmith who knows how to make good steel or, judging by his name, made it himself or took it from his family.
He refrained from asking the boy how he got it, however, and instead, continue on with his inspection.
Quickly putting the pot back inside, the man pulled out a small white box with a red cross on the lid.
"That's my medical equipment, or, healing items." The lad helpfully informed him.
Healing items? That made sense on why the box has a red cross on it. Churches were known to be associated with the light, blessings, and God, after all. It is a sign of preparedness if the boy carries such a thing.