I smelled it before I could see it, just a twinge at first but then a gust of wind brought it up to my nose at full strength. Even being the olfactory cripple that I was the odors of a proper human town couldn't be ignored. Shit, piss, food, sweat, fire, and dirt all mixed into a smell that was equally as nauseating as the particles that made it were dangerous. Well, dangerous to other humans at least. I had no fear walking into the town proper, passing by the residences on my approach to the wall which surrounded the innards of the settlement. If the line was any indication I would need to wait until I could be checked and allowed entry.

From afar I could tell that Frahmtehn was much larger than Suwlahtk, though just how large it was hadn't become apparent until I saw the height and breadth of the town wall. The radius must be at least a kilometer and a half, I estimated by the curvature I could see, might be up to two. I found myself once again wishing that I had any form of proper visual co-processor software so that I could know for sure, as I was just guessing based on the similarity of its appearance to other walls I had seen. A human jostled me as they passed by, meeting my eyes with a glare and breaking me from my trance. After a quick check to ensure nothing was stolen I headed towards the entry line and found the back of it.

About fifty people in line, I estimated as I looked ahead of me, two beasts as well. The range and variation in hair and skin colors had increased dramatically even from the south trading post. The woman who stood in front of me, dressed in some kind of thick leather farm work gear, had hair that was a brilliant orange and skin blotched with small dark patches. At first I had thought she was ill, but there was another man further ahead in line with a similar complexion and neither looked to be suffering any kind of ill effect from it. Other hair colors included dark brown and a strange translucent white. Skin tones ranged from the sickly paleness of the apparent regional average to more normal skin tones like my own, though those with pale skin outnumbered the rest by far. There was even a woman with skin darker than mine.

Once around twenty people had been allowed in and another ten had lined up behind me I could see the guards. The gate was a simple portcullis design made of crisscrossing iron bars with spikes at the bottom, sitting inside a rectangular cutout tunnel in the rock wall. I strained my eyes for definition and could see that the man who was currently being processed by the guards, who had a beast and a cart to go along with it, was engaging in conversation with them. Neither side appeared to be overly stressed so the conversation was amicable, but whatever process they were putting him through was quite lengthy. I watched as more guards checked the back of the cart, clearly asking the man about the contents, then allowed him entry.

“You're a tall one,” a voice said behind me. I turned around to see a blonde white man looking up at me. His hands and face were covered in dirt and he wore the same leather coveralls as the woman in front of me. “Didn't think you Gwahlaob got that tall,” he added gruffly. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I just turned around and faced the front of the line again. The man either didn't mind or thought that I didn't understand him because he said nothing more to me. The next person was let in, and the line shifted forwards.

“Alright, next,” the guard called out. The sun was now barely peeking above the horizon and my patience was wearing thin. Luckily, the one who the guard was calling to was me. I stepped up, a full head taller than the guard, and remained still for inspection. The guard looked at me, did a double-take, then narrowed his eyes. “Where're you from?” he asked. A few of the guards in the back were also looking at me with curious expressions.

“Suwlahtk,” I replied simply. Both the front guard and one of the rear guards scoffed, then the front guard became more serious.

“You're not coming in unless I say you're allowed to, so don't lie to me,” he warned. “Where are you from?” I guess I don't have the right appearance, I thought, should I just tell him I'm a forest man? The villages accepted that as an explanation.

“I am a... forest man,” I said slowly. The two words caused a ripple of activity, and I heard footsteps behind me from people backing up. A couple of people in line began asking others in hushed tones if they heard what I said. The front guard, who was now gritting his teeth, looked straight into my eyes.

“There aren't any forest men left on Awsriyah,” he stated as though it was a fact.

“That is what they tell me,” I replied with a slight sigh, trying to appear exhausted.

“So where are your people then?” he asked. “Are more of you coming? Where did you get those clothes and weapons?” Interesting that he accepted it so readily, I thought.

“I don't know where my people are,” I replied, “I awoke on a beach south of Suwlahtk some time ago, was lost in the forest until I found Suwlahtk, and after learning where I was I made my way here. I intend to travel to Vehrehr and then to the mainland.” The guard looked at me doubtfully.

“And the weapons? The clothes?” he prodded. My hopes that he wouldn't force the issue were extinguished quickly.

“I was attacked by a ngahp on my way here,” I lied. “The villagers had given me clothing, an axe, and a spear so that I could hunt, but my clothes were destroyed during my escape and I lost my way. A few days south-west of here, while trying to find the path again, I came across a body floating in the river which was wearing these clothes, as well as the sword, knife, and crossbow.”

“So you just looted them?” the guard snapped. I could physically see him becoming angrier as he thought about it. What is it with these people? I wondered, The leaders of Suwlahtk had no issue with taking the goods from that merchant I killed, but grew very upset when I said I looted Ahpoyt too. I thought back to the talk I had had with them for a moment, trying to pick out anything which might help me get a grip on what was happening. Is it because I wasn't the one to kill him? I wondered, Then again they knew I was lying, so what's going on here?

“I buried the body afterwards,” I continued to lie, “it was already too rotted to be identified, so it was the best I could do.” The guard clicked his tongue and exhaled in a low growl, still looking displeased. He looked away from me, then back at me, then away from me again and muttered some words I didn't recognize under his breath.

“You washed those clothes right?” he asked, looking back at me.

“Of course,” I replied, “the weapons as well. Fresh flowing water and some basic ash soap which I created.”

“At least there's that,” the guard muttered, “you have money?” I held up my pouch and showed him, jingling it for effect. “You didn't steal that?” he sighed.

“The villagers gave it to me for helping them find one of their lost hunters,” I replied with a small smile. The guard sighed again, then looked back and nodded at one of the guards behind him. That guard walked up to me and patted me down to check for hidden weaponry, stopping almost immediately when he touched my shirt and felt the metal beneath.

“He's wearin' armor,” the pat-down guard croaked.

“Did you get that from the body too?” the inspector guard asked. I nodded, then pulled up my shirt to show the holes from the crossbow bolts. “Any reason you're wearing it under your shirt instead of over it like you should be?” he asked.

“I don't want people to get the wrong idea,” I said, “I'm not a soldier or anything, I just have it on in case I get attacked again.” The guard raised an eyebrow but otherwise let my explanation slide. The pat-down guard continued and I kept my shirt up so he could inspect me visually.

“Nothin' hidden,” the guard croaked again before walking back to his post.

“Okay, one more thing,” the inspector said as he took out a piece of parchment, “your name.”

“Yuwniht,” I answered. The inspector shrugged and scribbled something down on the parchment then handed it to me. I inspected the paper and knew immediately that it had more on it than just my new name.

“Keep that on you while you're here,” he instructed, “that paper has your name, your origin, and the date that we let you in. If you lose it and get caught without it, you're going to get your ass beat and thrown outside the walls. You understand me?”

“Perfectly,” I replied. The inspector stepped aside and gestured for me to pass him, and I finally entered Frahmtehn proper.

The interior of the walls was chaos incarnate. The noise level alone was enough to mask the individual sounds of almost everything going on into a single mess of sound, but the foot traffic and architecture cemented my impression of the place. The roads had no directionality at all to them, people traveling one way would not even try to stick to their left or right. Everyone simply pushed past everyone else, moving as they pleased. The buildings were all stone and of the same general architectural style as the ones in the south trading outpost, but the sizes were completely haphazard and many of them weren't even square. It's amazing that some of these are standing at all, I thought as I saw a building that was inclined five degrees to my right.

I trudged down the widest dirt road which was directly in front of me when I entered, doing my best to avoid bumping into anyone as I did so. Street vendors lined the left and right borders of the road, calling out in a cacophony of noise to try to sell whatever it was they dealt in. Somewhere I could see someone was playing a stringed instrument and singing, though the lyrics were unintelligible. At least I'm taller than everyone else, I thought, I can see where I'm going fairly well. As I passed by people I took note of their physical qualities, counting at least four or five racial groups among the populace. I even saw a person who had a body similar in appearance to my own, though they were two-thirds my height and appeared to have little muscle to speak of.

I wish I could read, was the main thought that kept recurring while I went by each building. Most of them had signs of some kind on them but they were all in the same script as everything else, which I still had no experience with. I ducked to the side when I saw an open spot with no vendor and took out my pass, looking at it again now that I knew what was on it. If the first word is my name, then it's obviously phonetic, I thought, but where do the words start and end? The most infuriating part of the script was that it used no spaces nor identifiable dividing characters, making it incredibly hard for me to intuit anything about its structure.

“Hey you,” someone called out. I looked up and saw a young woman dressed in peculiar clothing looking at me. Unlike the plain brown tunics and leather wear of the average person, her clothing was made of fabric and dyed to appear black, with a white stripe that circled the neck and then went down the middle of her torso, stopping at her hips. The typical flowing dress of female garb was cut short on her outfit and ended just above the knees.

“Me?” I asked.

“You look tired,” she said, “there's an inn down the street. Pass three alleys on your left and turn in the fourth one.” She pointed in the direction I had been traveling in. I looked up at the sky and saw that it was nighttime, which I hadn't noticed because of all the torches and lanterns in the street.

“Thank you,” I replied, reaching for my money pouch to take out some coins to give to her before she asked. Let's try just giving one this time, I thought, should I just select randomly?

“What are you doing?” she snapped, getting my attention again. “Put your money away before someone sees it.” I closed my money pouch and set it back into its resting spot.

“Do you not want money?” I asked. “The last person I received information from requested payment.” The woman looked at me with her brow furrowed and mouth half agape for a full second.

“I work for the Zvaonaosawtz inn,” she said in a strange tone. “It's my job to draw in customers and get us more business. You must be as foreign as you look.” She spoke with deliberate slowness, the pitch of her voice starting high but lowering with each successive word.

“Oh,” I replied. I suppose employing someone to do that would make sense in an environment like this, I thought. “So to be clear, I don't need to pay you?” The woman's brow raised in surprise for an instant.

“Save your money for the room,” she said, “but you can pay for me later if you'd like.” Before I could ask what the woman meant she walked off, disappearing into the foot traffic of the street. Do I even have enough money to pay for a room? I wondered as my empty stomach growled.