Walking out of the Watchhouse gave Micky his first real chance to look around at his new surroundings. The buildings rising to three or four stories on either of the guardhouse side had stark sharp lines mixed in with smooth curves, clad in some kind of marble with accents of gleaming steel and brass. Glass tubes of neon curled over entranceways and signs. The overall effect reminded Micky of Art Deco and the Roxy Cinema in Wellington.

“Barrett mate, why does this look so different from where I woke up?” asked Micky.

“This is the government district of Baer’s Landing so it's a touch fancier than where we found you. That was behind the Hound and Tooth on the border of Cheapside. You’re lucky that waiter called the watch lad, otherwise, you would have made some rag-pickers day and woken up bollock naked. The TRC is about a block away from the watch-house so I’m going to walk you over rather than wasting the copper on a carriage or a helio.”

As they made their way towards the Relocation Centre Micky began to become aware of the crowds around them. Some he could identify as elves, dwarves, or halfling’s from fantasy novels he had read, but one individual that hurried across their path stopped Micky dead in his tracks. Massively muscled and standing at least 8 feet tall on two cloven hooves with a single horn rising from either side of its head.

"Uh, Barrett is that a mi-“ before Micky could finish the sentence Barrett clapped a hand over his mouth.

“That lad, is a duine daimh, and they’re right sensitive about the M word so don’t forget it.”

Barrett tipped his helmet to the figure as it continued on its path.

“Sorry about that laddy, I know relocators sometimes come with a set of assumptions from their home-worlds and the TRC will tell you more about it, but for now just assume everyone you see is a person just like you and that most of them are smarter than you. You’ll avoid more than a few issues that way.”

Barrett slowly lowered his hand from Micky’s mouth and waited for him to respond.

“Right, message received, shutting up now,” said Micky bobbing his head, not really understanding but unwilling to cross the sudden seriousness Barrett was showing.

“Duine have been responsible for more than a couple of relocators meeting sticky ends, especially those who forget to treat them with respect” continued Barrett, walking a few steps ahead of Micky.

They continued walking, passing through a park with willow trees reaching thin branches over the path, dappling it with shadows. Statues stood at intervals amongst the trees, strange geometric constructions which hinted at some kind of symmetry that Micky couldn’t quite make out.

“Okay lad, the TRC is just through this park, when we get to reception they’re going to take care of you. Just show them that mark on your wrist and tell them what you told me. They’ve got a whole integration process to help you get your bearings.”

As Barrett finished speaking they came to the edge of the park, the walkway joining up with a broad plaza that stood before a broad red stone building rising three stories from the white of the plaza. Just like the buildings that surround the Watch-house, the art deco influence was strong. Symmetrical wings swept up from the ground floor to frame the central structure. It left the building with the impression of a diving bird.

Above the central entrance was a sign picked out in brass ‘Transmigration and Relocation Centre’, underneath the sign hung a symbol exactly like the one Micky found on his wrist.

“Barrett mate, you're sure this is on the up and up right? I’m not going to walk in and get my kidneys harvested or something right?”

Barrett chuckled in response, “you’ve got some sense of humor lad, this shouldn’t take more than a week or two. Once they’ve set you up we’ll go out for a pint and you can tell me what you’ve learned. We can even check you’ve got all the same bits as you went in with”.

The doors to the TRC stood wide open so Barrett led them in without a pause, stepping up to a wide desk of green jade and gold. Behind the desk sat a bored-looking woman filling in a crossword.

As the two men stepped to the desk she spoke without lifting her head “watchman, you know the protocols, all complaints about relocators go through their assigned mentor rather than through the town office.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got the wrong idea love, I’m not here to make a complaint, I’ve got a new one for you. Found him nearly passed out in an alley in Cheapside. Off you go, lad.”

This did surprise the woman who dropped her crossword and whipped her head up to look at them “ that’s impossible” she snapped “all fresh arrivals come through the registered portals, show me your wrist.” Micky slowly raised his hand above the desk and the woman took his hand, slowly turning it over so his palm was up and the whirling blue mark was clearly visible.

“You said you found him today Watchman? Where has he been? The most recent arrival was more than a week ago.”

“Look lady” snapped Micky, the tension of the situation and the overall absurdity of the day finally getting to him “last night I went out for a couple of pints and this morning I woke up in knock-off fantasy land like some BLEEPING Isekai. None of this makes BLEEP all sense and I would reeeally like some answers. Can you help or not?”

Micky’s rant seemed to break the growing tension as the receptionist let out a startled laugh.

“Yeah, okay. He’s definitely a fresh arrival. Thank you for your service Watchman”, she nodded to Barrett who tipped his helmet in acknowledgement.

“Look I think we got off on the wrong foot, I’m Clarita Forrester and I work the desk for this branch of the TRC” she offered her hand to Micky reaching out to shake his right hand.

“Uh, I’m Micky, Micky Taylor” he responded taking her hand and giving it a perfunctory shake. “Look, I’m sorry about the whole outburst thing, this whole day had kind of been a lot” he apologized.

“No, I totally understand Micky, nothing about your arrival seems to have gone by the book.” Releasing his hand she reached down under the desk and emerged with a bright yellow brochure.

“This whole thing is just a touch above my pay grade, I need to get my manager. Have a seat over there and do some reading, I’ll be right pay with someone who can help.” As she finished speaking she gestured towards a bank of seats to the side of the room.

“Right then lad, they seem to have this in hand so I’d best be getting back to work, remember Watchman Barrett at the Western Watch-house.”

Micky turned to him “Mate, I can’t thank you enough for all your help. I have no idea what I would have done if you and your partner hadn’t found me. It’s 50/50 odds if I would have even made it out of that alleyway. I’ll take you up on that pint once I know what the hell is going on.” Shaking his hand Barrett turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Micky alone with his thoughts and the strange pamphlet.

*ding*

A blue notification box appeared before Micky’s eyes.

Taken the first step in adjusting to life in the system. Balance increased to 7.