I watched Petya’s reaction as we stood still amid the bustling crowd. Her eyes darted nervously from face to face.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din.

  I followed her gaze and understood her shock. In the growing darkness, with proper lighting, the true nature of Karadesh’s population became unmistakable.

  At least half of the surrounding people weren’t human at all.

  Green-skinned figures towered over the crowd—orcs. There was no other word for them. Tusks protruded from their lower jaws, their physiques powerfully muscled, yet they moved through the crowd with the casual familiarity of everyday citizens. They wore the same clothing as the humans—robes, tunics, work clothes—and conducted business alongside them without comment.

  But even more startling were the reptilian humanoids that slipped gracefully through the throng. Covered in iridescent scales in hues of green, blue, and bronze, they walked upright on two legs, their long tails helping them balance. Their faces were distinctly lizard-like, with elongated snouts and vertical-slit pupils, yet their expressions and gestures were unmistakably intelligent and civilized. Most, if not all, had frills around their necks, which sometimes flared out during conversation.

  “Drago,” Petya clutched my arm, her fingers digging in painfully. “What are those?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But they’re citizens here. Look—they’re just going about their business.”

  It was true. The different species mingled with apparent ease, haggling at stalls, arguing, and even laughing. This was normal for them.

  While Petya trembled beside me, I felt a strange sense of wonder and curiosity. These weren’t mindless monsters, but sentient beings with their own society. In my old world, I had been fascinated by fantasy novels and games—now I was living inside one. The thought sent an unexpected thrill through me.

  “We need to find shelter,” I said gently, prying Petya’s fingers from my arm. “Come on. One step at a time, right? It’ll get better once we’re in that inn.”

  She nodded shakily, and we set off toward the Street of Salt.

  The thoroughfare was broad and paved with fitted stones, its edges lined with buildings that stretched three or four stories high. Most were built from the same honey-colored sandstone as the city walls, though wooden upper stories adorned with intricate latticework were common.

  And everywhere, there were signs of magic.

  Crystal lamps that glowed without flame. A street vendor whose cart levitated slightly above the cobblestones. A fountain where water flowed upward, defying gravity before cascading down in geometric patterns. Small, winged creatures that might have been fairies darted between rooftops.

  The technology, too, surprised me. A clock tower near the harbor featured an intricate astronomical display. Merchants used calculating devices with sliding beads reminiscent of advanced abacuses. I could see an aqueduct weaving through buildings, depositing water in fountains.

  “It’s like someone took Ancient Babylon, medieval Arabia, and Renaissance Venice and threw them in a blender,” I murmured, more to myself than to Petya.

  She didn’t respond. Her face had gone pale, her breathing shallow. Her eyes tracked a particularly large orc as he passed, carrying a barrel on one shoulder as if it weighed nothing. The orc offered a friendly nod.

  “Hey,” I squeezed her arm. “Stay with me.”

  “How are you so calm?” she hissed. “We’re in another world with—with monsters and magic, and you’re acting like we’re on a sightseeing tour!”

  “Because panicking won’t help,” I replied. “We need information and shelter. That’s all we need to focus on right now.”

  Though secretly, I was beginning to wonder what it would take to gain magic in this world, to become something more than a failed academic stuck in a call center job.

  “Promise me we'll go back, Drago. Please.”

  I took her hand for a moment. “I promise. Just stay with me, right?”

  Petya gave a shaky nod.

  We continued down the Street of Salt, jostled by the evening crowd. Most people ignored us, but some gave us curious glances. Our torn, dirty office attire stood out amid the local fashions, but it wasn’t so strange that we were directly accosted.

  At one point, I stopped a passing human—a middle-aged woman with a basket of textiles.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Could you direct us to the Copper Lantern Inn?”

  She looked us up and down. “Foreigners, eh? Continue to the Grand Fountain, then three streets west. Can’t miss it.” Her accent was like Tomas’s but more refined.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And…the Grand Athenaeum? Where would we find that?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “The Athenaeum? That’s in the Academic Quarter, south of the palace.” She eyed our disheveled appearance dubiously. “They don’t let just anyone in, you know.”

  Before I could ask more, she hurried away.

  We continued on, reaching the fountain the woman had mentioned—a massive circular basin where water surged up in the shape of a trident before falling in a sparkling cascade. Around it, street performers entertained evening crowds, and food vendors hawked unfamiliar delicacies.

  As we turned onto the western street, I felt a slight tug at my waist. I spun around to find a small, dirty-faced human child trying to pull out the pouch of jewels we had found on the ship.

  My reaction was swift. I swatted the hand away, saving my valuables. The child was already disappearing into the crowd.

  I nearly chased after the little thief—such audacity deserved punishment—but thought better of it. We had more pressing concerns.

  “What happened?” Petya asked.

  “Pickpocket,” I muttered. “Nearly got that pouch we found.”

  I kept my hand there, so the same thing couldn’t happen again while keeping my other hand on the hilt of my dagger. We stuck out like sore thumbs, and that would attract attention.

  We had gone only another block when a different sort of threat emerged. Three rough-looking men—two humans and a lean, scarred orc—stepped into our path. Their expressions left little doubt about their intentions.

  “Lost, fancy folk?” the orc rumbled, eyeing Petya’s watch and the gleam of her earrings. “Dangerous streets for strangers after dark.”

  I pulled out my dagger, trying to look more confident than I felt. “We’re not looking for trouble. This knife here…it’s magical. You don’t want to mess with that, do you?”

  The men laughed, clearly unimpressed.

  But to my surprise, Petya stepped up. “A squad of Eyes will round that corner any second. What will they think of a few street toughs trying to rough up two people nobly born?”

  They actually looked unsure about this. Petya nodded at me, and we continued on, leaving the toughs behind.

  “Thank God,” Petya breathed.

  “Not God,” I murmured. “You. That was some quick thinking back there.”

  Her mouth became set in a grim line. “No man or monster will keep me from getting back to my children.”

  I couldn’t help but watch her with newfound respect. I had underestimated her. That steel behind her eyes reminded me that desperation could make even the meekest person dangerous.

  Finally, we spotted our destination—a three-story building with a wide front entrance, over which hung a copper lantern. This had to be it.

  We pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

  The inn’s common room was warm and surprisingly clean, with a dozen tables arranged around a central hearth where a fire crackled merrily. The patrons were mostly human, though a few orcs sat drinking in the corner, and a lizard person in elaborate robes dined alone by the window. The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread made my empty stomach clench painfully.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Behind a long counter stood the innkeeper—a mountain of a woman with arms like tree trunks and a cascade of copper-red hair pulled back in a braid. Her face bore the evidence of a life well lived: laugh lines around her eyes, a crooked nose that had clearly been broken at least once, and a scar that ran from her right temple to her jaw.

  “Welcome to The Copper Lantern,” she called to us, her sharp eyes taking in our bedraggled appearance. “What can I do for you?”

  I approached the counter, aware of how we must look—filthy, exhausted, and clearly out of place.

  “Tomas and Davi—fishermen—directed us here,” I said. “We need lodging and possibly work. You must be Marda.”

  She nodded, her gaze sharpening. “Tomas sent you? Well, that’s something. He doesn’t recommend trouble to my door.” She looked us up and down. “Usually.” She cleared her throat. "Lodging is one silver mark per night for a private room, twenty coppers for a spot in the dormitory.”

  I winced. “About that…we don’t have any money.”

  “None?” Marda raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. Again, despite our haggard appearance, our clothing was of fine quality compared to most locals. Her gaze fell on Petya’s watch. “That timepiece looks valuable.”

  Petya’s hand covered her watch protectively. “It was a gift from my father.”

  Marda’s expression softened unexpectedly. “Keep your keepsakes. I know what it’s like to hold on to the last pieces of home.” She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned forward. “This city’s not a kind place, and everyone will try to wring you to the last drop of blood. There’s a small storage room in the back. Not fancy, but it’s clean and has a decent pallet. You can have it for tonight, and tomorrow we’ll talk about how you might earn your keep.”

  Petya’s eyes became misty, but she remained silent. Marda watched her for a moment, then looked at me.

  “I’m happy to work,” I said. “We’re in a somewhat…difficult situation.”

  “As long as you don’t bring trouble to my door, you won’t get any trouble from me. There’s plenty to do around here. My dishwasher quit yesterday. Stormed out after I suggested he might consider actually cleaning the pots instead of just rinsing them.”

  “I could do that," I said.

  “Both of you,” Marda corrected. “I’ll pay an honest wage.”

  “We’ll do whatever is required,” I said, though inwardly I chafed at the thought of scrubbing pots. I’d spent years earning a master’s degree, only to end up in a call center, and now a dishwasher?

  But necessity outweighed pride—for now.

  Marda led us through the busy common room, past tables of patrons enjoying stew and beer. My stomach rumbled at the smell. She guided us down a narrow hallway to a small door at the far end.

  “It’s not much,” she said, producing a key from her apron pocket. “But it’s clean, and it’s yours for tonight.”

  The door swung open to reveal a modest space with a single pallet and a narrow window that looked out onto an alley. A lantern hung from a hook on the wall. The rest of the space was filled with crates piled high and random items.

  “This is perfect,” I said gratefully.

  Marda nodded, her expression kind but businesslike. “There’s a communal washroom at the end of the hall if you need it. Get some rest. We’ll talk details in the morning.”

  With that, she turned and hurried back toward the common room.

  “Rest,” I told Petya, easing her down onto the pallet.

  She nodded weakly, the events of the day having finally overwhelmed her.

  “We’ll figure this out,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll learn more about this place. About class cores and how to get home.”

  “Do you really think we can?” Petya asked, her voice small.

  I thought of Irina, her gap-toothed smile. The only person in the world who made me feel like I actually was someone.

  “We have to,” I said simply. “We have people waiting for us.”

  A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I opened it to find one of the lizard-people, with scales the color of burnished copper. The creature had a narrow, reptilian face with vertical pupils in amber eyes, but wore the same apron as Marda’s other employees. They carried a wooden tray with two bowls of steaming soup and flatbread.

  “Marda sends food,” the lizard person said in a melodious, slightly hissing voice. “For the new arrivals.”

  Petya gasped audibly, shrinking back against the wall.

  “Thank you,” I said quickly, taking the tray. “Please pardon my friend. She isn’t feeling well. She’s been through a lot today.”

  The lizard person’s eyes flickered to Petya, then back to me. “Understandable. Many find us Varkiss…unsettling…at first sight. I hear in the Northern lands, we are rare. Is that where you are from?”

  I offered a friendly smile. “Something like that. I’m Dragomir.” I extended my hand, hoping to smooth over the awkward moment.

  The Varkiss hesitated, then carefully took my hand. Their palm was dry and warm, the scales surprisingly smooth. “Sathi,” they replied. “Kitchen assistant at the Copper Lantern.” They shifted awkwardly. “I’m male, by the way. You humans usually can’t tell.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, ignoring the awkwardness of the explanation. Any contact could be important down the line, no matter how humble.

  “Well, we Varkiss wish people didn’t think so badly of us. We’re not all thieves or pirates like the stories say.” Sathi’s clawed hand gestured to the tray. “The soup is excellent; Marda’s special fish broth.”

  “I’m sure it is,” I said.

  “I must return to work. The evening rush has begun.” He paused, his head tilting slightly. “Welcome to Karadesh, strangers from far away.”

  After Sathi left, I brought the soup to Petya, who had composed herself somewhat.

  “A lizard person,” she whispered. “I mean… a Varkiss.”

  “This world is going to keep surprising us,” I said, handing her a bowl. The soup smelled delicious—a rich broth with chunks of white fish and unfamiliar vegetables.

  We ate in silence. In my head, I ran calculations, trying to figure out the next move.

  Petya broke me from my thoughts. “I need to use the washroom.”

  I was a bit annoyed that she had interrupted my thoughts. “Of course. Go ahead.”

  I leaned back against the wall as she left, relieved to finally have a moment to think in peace. The weight of the dagger pressed against my hip, a reminder of the strange new reality we had stumbled into.

  About fifteen minutes passed before I realized something might not be right. The washroom wasn’t that far away. There was no reason for her to linger.

  I rose to my feet, a flicker of suspicion igniting in my chest.

  Opening the door, I stepped into the hallway, heading for the washroom.

  I’d barely gone five paces when Marda appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Ah, there you are,” she said, her expression neutral. “I was just coming to check on you.”

  “Where’s Petya?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

  “Your companion? She’s settled in another room,” Marda replied. “No charge, of course. I’m doing you both a favor, really.”

  I frowned. “Another room? That wasn’t necessary. We’re fine sharing.”

  Marda’s eyebrows rose. “Are you married?”

  The question caught me off guard. It was too dangerous to lie here. “No, but what does that—”

  “It matters,” Marda cut in, her tone firm but not unkind. “The Holy One forbids men and women who aren’t married to share private quarters. It’s written clearly in The Book of Life.”

  I felt a surge of frustration. “This prohibition didn’t exist when you first offered us the room.”

  “I assumed you were husband and wife,” Marda replied. “But when I asked young Petya if you were married, she told the truth, and I was quite horrified by my mistake.” She crossed her arms. “I run a respectable establishment, so please don’t blame her. You will see her again in the morning.”

  I studied her face, searching for signs of deception. This felt wrong, manufactured somehow. Was Petya behind this? Or was Marda simply executing some cultural norm I wasn’t aware of?

  Either way, I needed to tread carefully. Creating a scene would only draw unwanted attention, and we already stood out enough as it was.

  “I see,” I said, forcing a smile. “Of course. I respect the precepts of The Book of Life.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. “Is this something Petya asked for herself?”

  Marda shook her head firmly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks, or what you think, or even what I think. Only the Holy One’s will matters in these affairs. Our personal desires are secondary to divine law.”

  “I understand,” I said, attempting to sound reasonable. “But I would at least like to speak with her. Unless you mean to tell me that that’s also forbidden by the Holy One?”

  “She’s already asleep,” Marda replied, her voice softening with what seemed like practiced sympathy. “The poor thing was exhausted—trembling, really. She could barely keep her eyes open. It would be cruel to disturb her rest now.” She looked me in the eye. “And I know a good man like you knows how to respect boundaries, right?"

  I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice. “I think we both know what’s happening here, Marda. This isn’t about the Holy One or The Book of Life.”

  Marda didn’t flinch or back down as I’d expected. Instead, her eyes hardened, though her smile remained fixed in place. “What’s happening here is that you’re a foreigner who doesn’t understand our laws or customs. Your ignorance is forgivable, but persistence in that ignorance is not. I’ve been more than accommodating.”

  Her calm certainty flustered me momentarily. I hadn’t expected such firm resistance. The damn woman was playing this perfectly. “You’re quite right, of course.” I chuckled. “I have to say, having a bit of space would be nice. I just fear for her safety in such an unfamiliar place. So many might want to take advantage of her.”

  “I agree,” Marda said. “But rest assured, I will keep a close eye on her. I’ve been an innkeeper in Karadesh for twenty years. I know how to deal with all manner of threats.”

  I didn’t doubt that in the least. But to challenge Marda directly, in her own inn, reeked of desperation.

  And quite frankly? Such measures weren’t worth it. Not yet.

  “Very well,” I conceded. “Please tell Petya I’ll meet her for breakfast.”

  Marda nodded. “I will. Sleep well.”

  As she turned to leave, I called after her, “Which room is she in? In case there’s an emergency.”

  Marda paused. “She’s quite safe, I assure you. You really are sweet to care for her so.” She smiled. “Good night.”

  I watched her retreating back, my fingers itching to reach for my dagger. Not to use it, of course—but the weight of it might have persuaded her to be more forthcoming.

  But that would ruin everything before it began.

  Reluctantly, I returned to my small room, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary. The pallet that was supposed to be Petya’s lay empty, a mocking reminder of how quickly I had lost control.

  And not only that. All her things were gone, swiped while I had been occupied with Marda.

  My rage grew even more, to the point that I could feel my face reddening.

  I turned to accost her but stopped myself just in time. What did I have to gain by doing this?

  Nothing. It was reasonable for Petya to want her things, but the fact that someone else had grabbed them made her intentions clear.

  Petya never intended to see me again.

  This wasn’t about local customs. I’d underestimated her. She had acted as if she had no agency, resigning herself so easily to my demands. Too easily. That should have been suspicious.

  A good salesperson like her, good enough to afford a Louis Vuitton bag in Bulgaria! I had been outplayed.

  I saw that I would be forced to let her go. And in all honesty, I should leave the inn tomorrow and forget the whole thing ever happened.

  But that was what they wanted.

  And I didn’t like being bested.

  I lay down on the pallet, staring at the ceiling. It didn’t matter. Tomorrow, I would find her, and I would make it clear that our best chance of survival—of getting back to our children—lay in working together.

  The best move was to assume this wasn’t anything insidious. Petya could still be worked with, but perhaps as an equal. Tomorrow, I would have to apologize. Flatter her a bit, and try another tack.

  That wouldn’t be easy, but it would be necessary.

  Nothing was left but to get some sleep. A necessity, even for Petya.

  As sleep began to claim me, my thoughts drifted to the dagger and gems hidden in my pocket and the Voice that had welcomed us to Eyrth.

  My last thought before darkness took me was of Irina and a silent promise that somehow, some way, I would find my way back to her.

  But deep in my mind, another thought lurked—that perhaps this world offered me opportunities I’d never have on Earth.

  Power. Respect. The chance to be something more than a debt-ridden, overqualified call center employee.

  The chance to be someone who mattered.