The morning street was a bit charming. He was pleasantly surprised to found there is part of the town that wasn't such ...backwater. Trotting down the street, he could feel his feet grip firm into the cold hard surface. A hundred times better than those muddy, sticky roads.

 

Just two-three minutes ago, he paid quite a deposit —more than three days stay at his inn— to obtain a day pass to this place. It read One, Inner. Which with how his just washed shoes sang, indicated that the town separated into multiple tiers. Inner. Outer. Each fancier than the last. At least that what he assumed.

 

He means, would you look at that! It's paved! Well, not with good pavers. The friction-brimming, rain-shielding alternating stones layered on top of a textured concrete bed might be way too advanced for this pre-industrial outback.

 

Instead, it was made from flattened stones of various sizes. Several were as small as the palm of his hand, others could be as big as a public trash can. From their dull, gray sheen and how it's irregularly shaped, he could surmise that these were locally sourced. Perhaps from that river he saw when arriving at the town premise.

 

Not it was bad. It was a hundred times better than those gnat-infested abominations. Still, if he was allowed to point just one tiny little flaw, the smallest bit that not in any way discounted the merit of this wonderful road. It's that this wasn't built with weather in consideration.

 

Just from its stone reflection. The way it shone under the morning sun, he could tell with almost certainty that these smoothed surfaces would be quite slippery when the rain came.

 

And if yesterday was any indicator, it didn’t look good for him. He needed to find out how to rent those carriages as soon as possible. And perhaps looking for a good shoe and a new umbrella.

 

Another stuffs to do. How his list grows.

 

But, that's not all this part has to offer! Every eight-ten meters or so, he could see series of lampposts installed. Streetlights! And just by the barest observation, it was clear that it’s different than the one he had at home.

 

These were erected using an iron-made pole. Or at least covered in a very bad lacquer. The pole held a white opaque crystal, mounted on its exposed cage-like top.

 

These told him that the illumination was more likely to be piercing white instead of soft yellow. Not that he could tell. Since you know, morning.

 

He needed to take a look at the other tiers someday. Hmm. What’s would it be? Innermost? Well, perhaps by the end of the week when he more or less settled.

 

His inn, the white corner. Turned out to be located just a stone’s throw away from the inner. Perhaps that why it still could boast good service at a decent price. Like this sporting traveler cloak and robe he wore right now. It came as a compliment for his purchases. He meant he didn’t even know that he needed it!

 

And they came just an hour after morning rise! When he said before noon, he expected it to come on more like 10-11 a.m. Since you know, shops did need to open first. Even if all the inn did was ordering ready-made clothes.

 

What a service!

 

That's why now he could go to the merchant guild early. Why? Well—

 

"Make way!"

 

He staggered back. Finding that of a sudden both of his feet had no step to stood. In a split second, he felt the world slowed. That his ankle had bent. Twisted. Giving way to the gravity to claim him bare.

 

In a panic, he flailed his arm up and down. Left and right. Then by great miracle, he felt a sharp jolt. Pain. Shot through his left palm. Cushioning his fall halfway to a mere bump in the rear. Which he sure would be worse, if it had not for his left hand sacrifice.

 

“Ugh. W-wha—”

 

Not even a sentence before he was welcomed by the rolling dust. Shout and surprises filled the air. Thick. Loud. Choking.

 

Rubbing his eyes, he glimpsed a man. Middle-aged. Scattered beside fallen fruits and knocked down stall. Two steps away was a young woman not a day older than twenty was helping-fussing her older counterpart, trying to prop her up. Behind him a young boy, crying.

 

It was chaos through and through. Yet the sound, the exclamation, the cursing, continued. Growing louder by the second.

 

Where?

 

He closed his eye. Letting his ear drew the conclusion. Muddling through the cacophony. A sound stood. It was this weird tap-tap-bam-tap-bam. Irregularly rhythmic and accompanied by loud exclamation going distant.

 

Left!

 

He peered to the sound source. Just a shy on the edge of his vision.

 

Then he saw it.

 

Behind the obfuscating curtain of floating dust, the billowing choking grime, a silhouette of a carriage was galloping; pushing pedestrian left and right to the side.

 

“What in the name?”

 

He felt his mind raced. Spun. A terrorist attack? He mustered the possible answer. Drawing conclusion from the similar incident in Berlin, Paris, ...Tokyo. Yet it couldn’t be. His flapping brown traveler cloak, his leather-made trousers, it remind him that he’s in another world.

 

Does another world has terrorist too—

 

"Are you okay?" He heard a voice. Somewhere in the process, he missed her. A little girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old had stood beside him.

 

She offered him her hand. "Get up. Hurry," she said.

 

There’s this insistence of this voice. He, the still reeling man, nodded unconsciously, grasping her offered hand. The next second minute was mix of embarrassment and pain. He was shaking, trying to get up pivoting on her hand before immediately fell back. On his upper calf, a throbbing dull pain jumped forward. He felt the familiar red, soft, and heat —it’s a bruise.

 

He hissed.

 

"Come on, come on, sir. Stand!" he heard the young girl said to him again. Pursing his lips in half smile, he gave a look to his leg, before shaking his head intended to tell her to not worry.

 

“Oh,”

 

She responded. Then to his surprise, instead of giving up or getting older adult to help him. She moved both of her shoulders below his armpit.

 

“Wha—”

 

He felt himself heaved. Pushed up. Suddenly he already stood, propped.

 

“T-Thank you.”

 

He said a bit embarrassed helped like that. Then, slowly he moved his arm. Releasing it from the girl’s shoulders. Under her worried look, he nodded. Trying to assure her —and perhaps himself— that he could walk. Step by step. Large and wi—

 

“Ugh.”

 

It’s hurt! He felt the same pain spread from his bruise. Taking a deep breath, he tried a small step. No longer than a length of the sole of his feet.

 

The pain didn’t come.

 

It seemed only the big one flared the injury. Sighing, he crouched a bit, massaging the bruise. That’s when he saw her turned her head sharp. Pulling him forward.

 

"Ah!”

 

“Shh, walk. Slowly. But walk. " she said, worry apparent on her notes.

 

What?

 

The girl seemed insistent that he walked. He meant he thankful that she helped him stand, but he could do a bit resting, his leg still bruised. And he didn’t see it’ll return to a walking condition soon. At least not with an hour or so of rest.

 

Still unconsciously, he’s been taking a few slow steps, following the girl. Just as the surroundings began to clear. The dust half-settled.

 

Then it struck him. No one was nursing their injury. None. Not even that old lady. All he saw was hurried pedestrians doing the same thing that the girl told him right now. Getting up and walking. Even if it slow. He even saw one of the men hobbled around. His leg limped

 

"W-what?"

 

Why they're in such a hurry?

 

Confused, he stopped walking, his shoulder leaning at the left side of the wall.

 

"No! keep walk—"

 

"And what do we have here Tom?"

 

A voice boomed behind them. Turning his head, he saw two men walking toward them. The pedestrian giving them ways. Parting to the sides. The men wore leather armor layered with dark mail plates.

 

Wait, aren't those the guards' uniforms?

 

"Last-ers, Del! And two of them!"