The second questioning had followed a similar pattern to the first.

It consisted of a brief, but friendly, exchange of words. Ex-1 confirmed that he had no connections to anyone causing trouble in the city, that he had no malicious intentions towards anyone and did not want to incite violence or upheaval of any kind at this point in time.

Apparently matters of self-defence were acceptable - within reason.

Much to his surprise, the men dropped the question of his origin completely when he relayed that the city he came from was uninhabited. No one would be able to use it for the purpose of invasion, so it was no longer relevant.

They were clearly having conversations on multiple levels, discussing his responses with each other. Sometimes through their expressions, subtle movements or sign language. At times, they even blatantly switched to the language they assumed their prisoner would not understand.

Ex-1 did not deign to react to the officers’ antics.

In fact, it was all rather amusing. His fear had diminished greatly, as it became obvious that the men would not use force to determine the truth.

They appeared certain that a man who could circumvent the captain’s truth-sense would also be trained to withstand torture. Otherwise there was no sense in learning the evasive skill set.

It boiled down to the question of whether they would let him go free, trusting his truthfulness, or imprison him for the threat he posed.

The anxiety had been replaced with genuine curiosity. Learning and observing had, after all, been his reason for staying in the city instead of trying his secret escape card.

As it turned out, all the officers were under a binding contract. It was the single most important morsel of information Ex-1 learned. This contract prevented them from wrongfully imprisoning any individual. Apparently the consequences would be dire if they abused the power given them by the crown.

The contract was enforced by some mechanism that Ex-1 did not fully understand. The officers themselves simply attributed the enforcement to ‘magic’.

In the end it would come down to their instincts. Could they, with good conscience, imprison the man who named himself FIRST - for no crime, other than the suspicion he might be circumventing the captain’s skill?

The lieutenant was clearly in favour of letting him go as soon as possible as the questioning did not reveal anything nefarious. The interactions with the boy seemed to have swayed the man quite a bit.

The men clearly reached an agreement, as they both studied him one last time. Much to Ex-1’s consternation they were communicating with their hands again, meaning he could not follow the conversation. Their faces were inscrutable.

Finally the captain addressed Ex-1, 'Your willingness to work with us has been noted. There are many things surrounding your arrival that are shrouded in mystery. It is, however, not our business to pry any further once an assessment of threat to our city has been established. I don't always like the rules, but each man has their own secrets, and I will permit you to keep yours. This is common courtesy among travelers, and more importantly it is a law we are bound by.'

Ex-1 looked up with a start, for the first time staring into the captain's eyes.

Despite listening in on their conversations I genuinely thought they were still messing around, trying to get a rise out of me.

It was inconceivable that they should let him free without digging into his past and reason for appearing in town.

This time his thoughts must have been plain as day, because the lieutenant burst out in raucous laughter. He really does have a strange sense of humour.

The captain shot his colleague an exasperated look, his voice stern.

'Young man, we have no desire to dig into the past of every person who comes to visit. There simply aren't enough resources to inspect that many people. There is tighter security around the teleportation gate, but even then it's not like you are gaining access to different areas than if you came by road. We questioned you because we had to verify the risk of the gate being used against us from an unknown location. That concern has been settled and you are free to leave.'

He left a brief pause, giving weight to his next words. 'You will be expected to live by our laws while here. You should know that if you prove to be a threat to our people, you will be dealt with harshly.'

Ex-1 disagreed with that stance, a threat - no matter the size - should be apprehended. However, it worked in his favour, so he chose not to point this out.

He turned and was about to leave, when the captain stopped him.

'The lieutenant will organise some clothing for you. Amusing as it is, someone will get into trouble if you continue to walk around naked.’'

A short wait later and he was on his way. Wearing flimsy clothing, not useful for anything as far as he could tell - too thin to provide protection from any threat, be it man, weapon or weather.

It even lacked the hood, that would let him conceal his features and hide his identity. The sleeves on the shirt were short, revealing his injury, and obvious weakness, to the world. Although the trousers did provide him with a couple of pockets, so maybe they were not entirely useless after all.

The shoes were made from some supple material he could not identify. They would suffice for keeping his feet clean and not much else.

The officers had been more than happy to provide him with directions to the Drunken Goose; an establishment that was apparently something called a tavern. He took his time walking through the streets, observing the locals - trying to get a feel for this place and settle his mind.

It would take a while to acclimatise to the hustling streets and its colourful people. Where are they all going?

When he had first thought of fleeing the core, all he had wanted was the freedom to escape from his current life. Now that he was slowly coming to terms with his freedom, he realised that he didn't really know what to do with himself.

There were the obvious first steps of giving back the blanket, as it really was wasted on him. But then what?

In fact, ever since walking off the teleportation platform, he had been plagued by indecision. Well, more indecision than he was used to. He had been second guessing his actions and doubting his adequacy for the task at hand.

The concern had not been entirely unfounded, as it turned out. The course of events so far had not followed the way of his predictions.

It was a feeling as alien to him as the world in which he now found himself.

He had always fought for survival. This had been enough - his sole purpose.

Enduring life would no longer be a challenge in and of itself, so it would no longer suffice to direct his actions.

One thing at a time. I guess I'll just observe the people and later go back to talk to the core before deciding what to do in the long term.

A few minutes later he arrived at his destination. By now, the sun hung low in the sky, marking it mid-afternoon. That was if he had judged the seasons right - and only if daylight worked similar here, to the place where he had grown up.

He stopped outside for a while, to find out more about the people coming and going. He wasn't entirely sure what this place was or how it worked. Maybe viewing the whole thing as a mission would give him a purpose for now. Intelligence gathering and working out how to fit in. One step at a time.

There was not much to be learnt from watching the door. The individuals coming and going were no different to the regular people on the streets. Mainly civilians, however he noted the odd soldier as well. It was a slow trickle of customers, usually they turned up in small groups. There was the occasional appearance of individuals though, so he should not stand out too much.

With renewed resolve he walked to the entrance and pushed the door open.

Ex-1 had barely stepped a foot inside the establishment before a dangerous presence loomed to his right.

'You had better hope you haven't harmed that boy!' More a growl than words coming from the man.

Ex-1 froze and made a quick reassessment of the locals.

I didn't even see him move.

As the words sunk in, he lifted his hands in a placating manner, holding out the blanket. If anything, it seemed to anger the beast of a man further.

Time to speak up for yourself, before he tears off your head, he encouraged himself. He held no delusions that he'd come out the winner in a fight. Not against a man that could move at such speed.

'The boy, I presume you are referring to, gave me this blanket. He asked that I leave it with you once I have no further need for it.' He indicated towards the offending object with his head.

The man, who had to be the barkeep, took it with an angry snort. ‘Well, if you’re that friendly with the boy, what’s his name then?’ The scepticism on his face would have been obvious to a blind man.

‘The officer called him Urchin,’ he helpfully supplied.

The barkeep grumbled something under his breath, before stomping away.

'Don't mind Marcus,' this voice came from the left, shaking Ex-1 out of his stupor.

He could not help but laugh at himself, not only had he vastly underestimated the civilians, but he'd managed to get distracted by the burly man to boot.

He should have seen the plump woman sneak up on him. Going by her expression she hadn't even meant to startle him.

He responded with a smile, hoping that would be enough.

Then, seeing all the people sitting at tables he decided to follow up with a question. 'Is it alright if I take a seat?'

The woman gave him an odd look but quickly recovered. 'Of course, that's how it works. Take your pick, there's a few tables free by the back. Or that one by the fire. Can I get you anything?'

'No thank you, I'll sit over there.' He indicated a chair in a corner. There were less people in that area, probably because it was far away from the roaring fire. Now that the sun had disappeared, the temperature was quickly falling below freezing outside.

Sitting in his chosen spot would enable him to keep the whole room in his view. He did not like the idea of having his back exposed. Besides, he wanted to observe so he would be able to blend in better.

A little too late now, considering the commotion the barkeep created. He was determined to salvage what he could of the situation.

He missed the confusion on the waitress's face as he'd already turned around.

Smooth steps took him to his chair, where he made himself comfortable.

It was only as he looked around again, that he realised most people had drinks. Some even had other things on their tables, it took Ex-1 a while to realise that it must be food. Eating food was one of those activities he had learned about, but never experienced.

The shift to engineered sustenance had taken place decades ago. Why waste time on working out which foods to eat, if an injection can give you everything you need? At least that was what he'd been taught.

He had his suspicions that this might have been propaganda though, why else would food that had been grown be considered a luxury, consumed by the officers?

Ex-1 took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the muscles in his neck and back relax with the motion. For the first time since waking up, he could let go of the tension that had been plaguing him.

He wasn't sure how long people would usually spend in this type of establishment. Ex-1 decided that it should be long enough for him to think about his future and read some of the notifications. Tough luck if not - he already stood out so it made little difference.

By this point he was curious about his skills. Besides, he had made a promise to the core and planned to keep it.

There was a brief moment where he thought of porting back, however he didn't fancy having a foreign presence in his head that could potentially manipulate or control his actions. Better to brave the weird looks people were throwing his way. It hadn't escaped his notice that his attempt at blending in was clearly failing. At least there didn't seem to be much hostility towards him.

There was always a risk involved in letting his guard down in a room full of strangers. Perhaps the stress of the day was catching up with him, as he found that he simply didn't care this time.

With a sudden jerk he was standing upright, scanning the room for threats. His chair tipped and noisily crashed to the ground from the force of his movement.

Someone has to be manipulating me. It is the core all over again. I would not relax naturally - cursed AI!