If that crazy steward can see my race entry, then it’s all over. There’s no way he’d tolerate an innocent, little goblin sneaking around his city. However, if he did see it, then how am I still alive? He was definitely mad at me, given that long tirade. It’d have been trivial to kill me in the courtyard when I was face down on my knees. Does that mean it’s ok? Does that mean I’m safe?

  Breathing heavily, I stagger and stumble down the street, completely breaking my performance of normalcy.

  “Cursed, disgusting lush, get off the street!” one of the passersby yells in my face.

  Ah, yes! Of course, that’s it. Practically falling into the first alley I see, I desperately search for an open rat hole. Finding my objective, my body comfortably slithers down into the familiar tunnels below. Finally, this is what a safe living space should be. No more crazy, powerful creeps. No more unhelpful people on the street. Only the oozing sludge, grime, and mold that befits natural living.

  *CRACK*

  A loud sound echoes throughout the tunnel after I confidently land, disturbing the wet streams and causing ripples beneath my feet. Surprise puts me on edge. However, after freezing for a moment, nothing but silence follows. Taking a single hesitant step seems to cause sounds of scraping and sliding to lightly whisper from the direction of the main tunnel, continuously getting louder.

  Pushing myself back against the wall, I’m ready to dart back up and back out to the street. Keeping as quiet as possible, I wait in stillness. Slowly, a scaly head peaks around the corner and searches the alcove where I stand.

  Oh no. That confirms that it’s coming after me. Must have alerted it when I landed. I can’t live down here with something like this! Furiously clawing my way back up the wall, I shoot into the little tunnel and back out onto the street. This dreadful city thing is terrible! Unknown existential dangers both above and below, where am I to go?

  Home. I must return home to Vastras and then never, ever return to this desolate wasteland again. There’s no other choice. This big one dungeon is simply too much for me.

  Fit in, rush forward, seek the first port terminal I can find. Either they send me off or redirect me where I need to go. Or, worst case scenario, I jump into someone else’s spacial tear and hope for the best. At least then I won’t be in this torture chamber any longer.

  Luckily, the gigantic city has many terminals distributed all throughout. Finding one shortly, I sprint towards the porter with the shortest line. A brief wait later, I eagerly hand him my courier instructions, wishing on luck to save me.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Vastra?” he says before reading further to the disparaging remarks and then eying me warily. “I don’t have a focus in Vastra, and this is the wrong terminal for Tranas’ villages.”

  I cock my head and hold out my hands pleadingly, really leaning into their bizarre body language. I’m sad, pathetic, and confused. Please help me, you gigantic simpleton.

  “Ugh, fine,” the gullible fool relents. “I can port you to the arrival terminal on the other side of the city. Tranas departures are near there.”

  Elated, I clasp my hands and nod my head repeatedly, encouraging and rewarding his falling for my expert ruse.

  “You’ll still owe 1 copper! No free services. I’m just not supposed to do local hops.”

  Panic sets in. I never carry any of those worthless coins around. The only ones I have are in the pouch that the giant gave me as tribute for the trip back. If I give this porter any of those, then the next one will feel insulted and refuse me.

  I close my eyes, begging for more of fortune’s favor. A faint, smokey light insistantly pokes back through my eyelids, as if answering my call. I re-open my eyes and notice a floating wisp hovering just over my right fist. Opening up my fingers to grasp it in my hand, it pops. A single copper coin appears. My spacial transformation discipline has become so second nature, I completely forgot. I’ve been using a small coin to create temporary pockets as training.

  “Eh? Are you an aspiring porter? That’s actually pretty good for somebody your age. Make sure you keep practicing. Lucky that you got the hands.”

  The porter takes the coin from me and then creates a tear with an effortless swish of his finger. I waste no time stepping through, terrified that something else might go wrong.

  On the other side, I insistently grab a loiterer’s attention and point to “Vastra” on my courier instructions. He scowls but does point down one of the connecting streets. Immediately shooting off with deep intention, I finally have a true reason to be in a rush like everybody else here.

  A beautiful terminal comes into view. It’s not even that busy. Practically skipping up to a bored looking porter with no line, I again point to my plate. He shrugs, disappointed, and waves me over to a short line on the other side. Eyes practically popping out of my head from the excited pressures inside, I wait impatiently until it’s my turn. After showing the porter my plate and handing him the giant’s sack of coins, he creates a new tear and I race through.

  Vastra at last! At long last back at the village's single, simple terminal, I prostrate myself and kiss the ground. Home! Safe, hopeless, degenerate, disgusting home.

  “Child, ya deliver again? Or are ya sleepin’ on the job?” the giant voice booms out from amongst the gathered crowd of ragged forsaken.

  As he walks over to me in barely a few huge strides, I scramble back up to my feet to hand him the delivery plate. After taking it from me, this time I notice him briefly placing it against his left bicep before nodding acceptance.

  “Good job, child. Said ya was the best, no?”

  He tosses me a small bag of coins, and for the first time I’m glad. I must keep some on me at all times in case of emergencies, if only to fool the stupid porters into rendering service.

  The daylight killing my eyes and threatening to reveal my face, I bow to the giant in another empty gesture that I’ve learned before walking off to find a rat hole. It’s so much easier and more natural fitting into this tiny, lovely village dungeon.