My role as luggage persists until dropped down inside the hard, stone circle. Scrambling back to my feet, I awkwardly rotate around with my head down, side eyeing my surroundings as best I can. It seems we’ve moved to the front of the line. The others waiting look upset and confused with the unexplained situation interrupting them.

  “George, stop what yer doin’. This un’s turn next,” the giant bellows, pointing to me.

  The front man immediately stands at attention upon recognizing the giant’s deafening voice, as does the entire line formed beside him. Tossing the front man a pouch, he then turns back to me and transitions into a booming speech.

  “Child, take this,” he says, holding two pieces of wood and a small pouch in the air above me to take. “One’s for the guild. Shew it anywhere on the other side for directions. Other’s for the porter back, along with funds. Figured ya might be mute, an’don’t wan’ the job to fail on account of it. Return to me usin’ the second when yer back.”

  Catching all the objects by hooping my arms under the cloak, I look down to inspect them. I certainly won’t say no to freely offered treasures. However, I don’t understand anything that he’s talking about. Are we going back to the sewer now?

  “George, send ‘im to Tranas.”

  The flustered front man raises his hands and instantly a tear opens up right in front of me. It’s so beautiful. Up this close, I can finally appreciate what’s actually happening. The intricate details being brought out by the spiraling edges. Space folding in on itself in ways you’d never notice without all this disturbance. It’s as though–

  “In ye go,” the giant one carelessly asserts, as he kicks my backside.

  Heels over head, I fall flat onto the hard stone ground. It hurts, but despite that, the now well honed reflex takes over as I curl up into my defensively covered ball. Maybe I should have stolen those foot and leg skins. Boots and pants, I think the status called them? It would be so much easier to hide my prone body from prying eyes if things like this keep happening as often as they already have.

  “You poor thing!” a shrill voice calls out as some new big one menacingly hovers over me.

  Noticing the unwanted attention, I hop back up to my feet and check the threat with a cautious side eye. The big one leans down next to me, fetching something from the ground.

  “This is very, very important, don’t lose it,” the cooing voice says, handing me back the pouch the giant one had given me.

  Wait, where did he go?

  “Let’s see, these others look like courier instructions, so let me help you, hm…”

  I briefly consider dashing for the nearest rat hole, but then the fresh scenery finally sinks in and severely disorients me. Nothing’s right. Everything is so much busier and there’s much more clutter where there shouldn’t be. The front man, the line, and the giant are completely gone. Everything familiar is gone. What happened? Where am I?

  “Ah, looks like you’re to go to the guild. I’m heading there as well, so I’ll take you. Does that sound alright?”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The giant one mentioned this guild. That’s where he wants me to go? I was so distracted by the– oh, no. I fell through the rift, didn’t I? Where am I now? How do I get back?

  “Oh, yes. It says here that you’re mute, so I suppose it’s silly waiting for a response,” the big one corrects himself and then takes a step forward as if trying to snatch me while continuing to read over the wood in their other hand.

  “Here, take my hand an– oh, no. It did mention the smell, but this is– poor, poor thing. What have they had you doing over in Vastra? Follow behind me instead, please.”

  Appearing to deviously smile and beckon me with his hand, I submit to his demands. If I’m really trapped here, then I shouldn’t run too soon and draw suspicion. Those two pieces of wood might be my only lifeline back to a familiar hunting ground. To my treasures! Oh woe, if I lose all my treasures, then that regret alone may kill me.

  Proceeding through these larger trails as if to the gallows, the big one brightly prattles on and on about utter nonsense. Barely listening is the only way I’m able to anchor myself under all the weight of the confusing, new surroundings.

  “It’s the largest town by population on this side of Central! Amazing, isn’t it? We work hard, mostly on new arrival onboarding, and we’ve become very successful. As a consequence, all our nearby outlying villages are fully staffed and supplied. Therefore, we haven’t had a single goblin raid in at least a year! And the few that did come were easily defended from within our strong, tall walls. These wonderful places left here for us by the ancients are incredible, aren’t they? A real miracle!”

  What? Goblins? Were my brothers here? Did I miss them? Perhaps this is a better opportunity than I thought.

  “And here we are, the local guild building,” the prattler declares after opening the door and gesturing for me to go inside.

  Cautiously, I enter as commanded. There’s so many big ones here. Most wear identical, repeating outfits, or at least very similar ones. A few others, not wearing the same, stand next to a counter, conversing about more nonsense. What is this place?

  “Here, take these back and head to the desk,” the prattler directs as he holds out the giant’s two woods for me to take while pointing at the counter with his other hand. “If you hand them your instructions, then they’ll take over to help you.”

  Again, I let them fall into my cloak rather than extending a hand, and then wander over to the cluster gathered at the counter for closer inspection. There’s nothing extraordinary about it. What are all these big ones bothering about?

  “Hey! Get in line buddy, we were here first,” one of those dressed differently exclaims.

  Not knowing what else to do, I stay in place and lower my head, maintaining a single side eye on them in case they try anything aggressive.

  “Come on Aaron, he’s just a kid,” the big dressed-the-same one on the other side of the counter curtly cuts in. “He’s got courier instructions, so it’s probably official business. Unlike all your group’s complaints, which I promise, we will continue to politely ignore as usual.”

  “No respect in this town,” another big dressed-differently one scoffs. “See how long the teams stay based out here with that attitude.”

  With a wave of his hand, all the others on this side of the counter follow towards the door and leave as one.

  The prattler said that the ones here should receive the woods? Maintaining my lowered head, I shake the two wood pieces off of my cloak and out onto the counter, waiting for a new command from my captors.

  However, nothing comes. The room has become deadly quiet and somehow chilly. Risking some glances out, I see the problem. Every single one of the big dressed-the-same ones remaining here have stopped what they’re doing and turned to face me with the same intensely focused stare. Turning my head around back to the counter, so too is the previously friendly one who chased all the others away.

  What did I do wrong? I kept my hands inside the cloak, they couldn’t have seen. I never fell down and exposed my legs. They shouldn’t know! They can’t know. What went wrong? Can I run? The heavy door is closed again. Did it open in or out? Should I escape upstairs instead? Maybe there’s a way out on the roof. Maybe I can–

  “Why is the hand here off script?” a gravely voice sonorously exudes from the other side of the room.