13.2. Acclimating to a new world

Once he went down for breakfast, Heron was once again greeted by Emilia, now joined by Marcus, with whom he had a small talk. Generally, there were a lot of things Heron needed to figure out before any trials at the guild. He barely had clothes, so he definitely should get some. And also, he wanted to know about moving around the city, are there any dangers he might face as a villager?

Philip only told him that, whatever he does, he should avoid confrontations, because depending on a citizen's rank, an accidental encounter may cost him his life. So best to know which areas may end up problematic.

“Don’t worry too much about people here. Citizens are pretty decent in Jamtara. There are some exceptions, of course, but Jamtara relies on villages a lot, and since the destruction of a few of them a couple of cycles back, they are trying to be more friendly with the remaining villages to ensure better trades. So, avoid any brawls, and you’ll be fine. City guards are pretty good at keeping order.” Marcus said.

Then it was time for breakfast. And tavern food was much better than anything he had in either of the villages. There were cooked eggs, dried wolf meat, and even some mushy green stuff he said was great for stamina, and it all tasted good.

He praised the food, which caused Emilia to blush a bit.

“Food in the village must have been terrible if this tastes that good. And Creators may only know how you will react when you try some pastry sweets.”

Heron’s eyes were glittering. “And what is the best place to try these sweets? And are they expensive?”

He wasn’t proud of the last question, but at the moment, he just had savings from Haran and some from Philip, which should hold out until he joins the party, but if he goes around just lavishing himself, he may find himself out on the street with no money.

“Oh, don’t worry. There is a good bakery, which is quite inexpensive. They have the best cream rolls.” Emilia recalled, her face drooling.

Well, that settles it, then. I will have to go there and buy her some as a thank-you gift. Heron thought to himself, pleased that he considered it.

“Makes you all smiley, thinking about sweets? I know, me too,” Emilia said.

Heron blushed again as he realized his face was giving away his thoughts. No, stop it, you dumbwit.

Once he finished breakfast, he decided to head out. Jamtara wasn’t a small city, so Marcus gave him a map. He advised him, on the first day, not to venture far and to check out the neighbourhood. He circled the spot on the map where Emilia mentioned the pastry. And he also added a small heart symbol next to it. Unfortunately for Marcus, Heron didn’t know what the symbol was. He thought it was a symbol for the bakery.

The bakery was two blocks away, but the journey there felt like forever. Heron stopped almost every so often to observe his surroundings. The people, the vehicles, even the air itself felt heavy to ingest. Yesterday, as he entered Jamtara, though he was surprised by how the city actually looked, he was so focused on getting to a guild and finding a place to sleep for the night that everything else seemed to blur. And now he had the glasses to see it all clearly.

After learning what semaphors were after almost getting hit by the car, he managed to reach the bakery. He ordered the cream rolls Emilia praised, and he had to wipe the saliva trying to escape his mouth. These are so delicious.

In front of the bakery, there was a small garden with chairs, where he could sit and eat. It also served as a good point to look around without drawing suspicion.

As he ate, Heron watched the steady stream of people passing by: merchants in fine clothes, guards in polished armor, and the occasional adventurer marked by their well-worn gear and purposeful stride.

Then a figure caught his attention. It was a young man with striking white-silver hair who moved through the crowd with careful precision. White rags were wrapped around his eyes, and Heron could make out faint traces of old bloodstains on the fabric. Despite his condition, there was nothing hesitant in his bearing; he carried himself with quiet confidence.

Then three well-dressed young men deliberately veered into the white-haired man's path. The collision was clearly intentional, but they immediately began shouting.

"Watch where you're going!" the tallest of them demanded, straightening his expensive jacket with exaggerated care. "Can't you see who you're bumping into?"

The white-haired man remained calm, his head tilted slightly. "Actually, no. I cannot."

"Oh, what's this?" Another of the group stepped forward and started mocking the man. "A blind villager? Did you take the wrong road while trying to find your village? How did you even pass the guard? Maybe you can’t see, but I am sure they can."

All three men laughed at the mockery, but the man remained calm.

"I believe I am exactly where I need to be," the white-haired man replied calmly, his voice cold. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

The first man blocked his path. "Not so fast. This sort of disrespect could get you banned from the city, you know. Though perhaps we could overlook the incident... for suitable compensation."

Heron’s blood started to boil. I can’t just sit here and watch them bully the blind man.

Setting down the pastries, he stood and approached the group.

"Funny," Heron said, loud enough to draw attention from nearby tables. "From where I was sitting, it looked like you three deliberately bumped into him."

The tallest turned, sizing up Heron with a dismissive glance. "This doesn't concern you."

"No," Heron cut him off. "You listen. I saw you deliberately walk into him. Is this how city folk show their superiority? By harassing the injured?"

The tall man smirked. “Another villager approaching to rescue? Guess you both should be taught some respect.”

The white-haired man's head tilted slightly at Heron's words, his expression remaining impassive behind the bloodstained wrappings. "Your concern is appreciated," he said calmly, "but unnecessary." He turned toward the three harassers, reaching for a coin pouch at his belt. "How about I pay you for both of us, and we forget this unfortunate incident ever occurred?"

"Don't," Heron stepped forward. "They orchestrated this whole thing. You don't owe them anything."

The tallest man's attention shifted entirely to Heron now, eyes narrowing. "You should follow your friend’s lead here. You must be quite new if you don’t understand how things work in these parts."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Heron replied. "Three men preying on someone they think can't defend himself. That's all I need to know."

The second man cracked his knuckles. "Careful, boy. That mouth of yours better be as fast as your fists if you keep this up."

"Is that a threat?" Heron's hand moved into a fighting stance, causing several café patrons to push back their chairs in alarm.

The third man lunged forward, but before anyone could land a punch, a sharp whistle cut through the tension.

"What's all this then?" A patrol officer emerged from the crowd, her uniform bearing the insignia of Jamtara's city guard. Two more guards flanked her, hands resting casually on their weapons. "Starting a fight in a public place? That's a serious offense."

The tallest of the three harassers immediately straightened, smoothing his jacket. "Officer, thank the Creators you're here. These villagers were causing a disturbance. When we tried to explain proper city etiquette, this one," he gestured at Heron, "began making threats."

"That's not what happened," Heron protested. "They were trying to extort money from us."

"Silence," the officer cut him off sharply. "I've seen enough of your kind causing trouble." She turned to the three city men. "Do you wish to press charges?"

"Wait," Heron tried again, "they're lying. I saw them deliberately—"

"One more word," the officer warned, "and we’ll remove you by force."

Heron's jaw clenched in frustration. Then he remembered Haran’s words about the pendant, which he also carried by his side. His hand moved to his shirt, where the Bratti family crest hung against his chest.

"Actually," he said quietly, withdrawing the pendant, "I think you should see this first. I tried to avoid publicizing myself, but I am the son of a merchant who came here with some exotic offers."

The officer paused, eyes narrowing as she looked at the crest. She stepped closer to examine it, her stern expression wavering.

"Hmm, your clothes don’t match your social status. You sure you didn’t steal it?" she said, her tone less hostile, but she was suspicious.

No, backing out now. I should make something up. Heron thought.

“Actually, I dressed like this while exploring the city, not to get attention drawn to me. But then I saw these ruffians attacking this villager, and I decided to intervene. I know villagers are not worth our time, but this one is clearly damaged.” He pointed at Icarus’s face. “We are citizens, but we shouldn’t turn into monsters. I also heard from merchant circles that Jamtara has been struggling with supply and demand due to fewer village resources. So is this the message you are willing to send to your suppliers? That is just bad business.”

The officer nodded as she listened to him. “You do have a point. It would set a bad precedent if we started to harass the villagers when these are trying times.”

The three harassers shifted uncomfortably, their confidence beginning to fade.

The officer glanced at the white-haired man, who had remained eerily still throughout the exchange. "So, is this citizen correct about the situation?"

Before the white-haired man could respond, the tallest of the three spoke up, his tone measured and reasonable. "Officer, there seems to be a misunderstanding. We noticed this gentleman appeared lost, and as we approached to offer assistance, an unfortunate collision occurred. We were merely trying to help when this young man," he gestured dismissively at Heron, "started making accusations and threats."

"Indeed," added the second man. "We're well-known in this district. Would we risk our reputations trying to extort money in broad daylight?"

The white-haired man tilted his head slightly. "They did approach me," he confirmed, his tone neutral. "Though their offer of 'assistance' came with specific demands."

"Watch your words," the third man warned, then quickly caught himself as the officer's eyes narrowed. "I mean... we were simply trying to help. Unfortunately, our good intentions were so badly misconstrued."

The first man jumped back in. "Yes, we did ask a fee for our time. As you can see, this person has a disability. But, as he is not a city resident, we couldn’t really give up our time without compensation."

The officer sighed. "If all of you disband and go separate ways, we will overlook this. And for you three."

Three men looked at her with faces cracked. "You'd better not try to pull these kinds of stunts in this district again."

The white-haired man turned to leave, but before he could disappear into the crowd, Heron called after him. "Wait! Are you sure you're alright?"

The man paused, his head turning slightly. "As I said before, your concern is unnecessary." Without another word, he merged into the flow of pedestrians, leaving Heron to wonder about the strange encounter.