The breathtaking scale of Eraztun loomed over the world in shades of muted pinks and oranges, the lower layers dyed in a dull peach, while the higher strata approached a vibrant clementine. It lay in a valley, hills rounding it on all sides, but its height dwarfed the hills. It was an imposing behemoth arrayed in splendor, a city of babel.

The roads leading to the city were wide. They had to be - any smaller, and they would not have been able to hold the throngs of travelers that walked them. These travelers were human, which brought me some small relief, though their clothing was archaic and their pack animals were completely unfamiliar.

They were all heading into the city, not away. I couldn’t make out anyone leaving.

I joined the crowd. I tried to stay on the outside as best I could, not to be trampled.

There was clearly a disparity of dress among the crowd. Some wore simple, but respectable clothes in earth tones and faded yellows, reds and browns. These people carried weapons, and had animals pulling carts, and walked upright.

Then there were those dressed in mostly-undyed rags, colored in the colors of dirt and sweat. Occasionally I’d pass one of these people dressed in a woad-blue, and smelling of piss. These people did not walk so much as shamble, head down, back bent. Though I couldn’t help but notice that some of them were giants, large and muscular. These ones walked with better posture, though they were just as dirty as the rest.

On the opposite end of the spectrum - and few in number, where the poorer class was the overwhelming majority - was what I could only assume to be the nobility. They were dressed in purples and reds and blues of a different shade, and were surrounded by faceless armored men. They did not walk at all - they were carried, if not in carts drawn by wondrous animals, then by servants, in a palanquin. All others kept their distance from these people, even in the crowd.

There were outliers, too, people who looked too dignified to be among the poor, too dirty to be rich, and too unique to be between them. These people were dressed in leathers, or cloaks, or glinting armor. They all wore weapons, and most wore scars. There were not many of them.

I looked back up at the city. It, too, was divided.

The tremendous walls clearly demarcated one layer of the city from the next, each layer growing smaller as the city rose to its zenith. It was a tiered city.

First was a high outer wall, which seemed to be miles from the city center. I could only see it all laid out now because the hill we were on as we approached overlooked the lower tiers of Eraztun, though the higher ones were still yet higher.

Outside the outer wall were masses of tents and dirt and filth. Here thin people loitered, looking desperate even from a distance.

Inside the outer wall was a great expanse of farmland, with some small forests dotting it. There was more farmland surrounding that outer wall as well, but even with the size of the city proper, this inner farmland was so vast that it was hard to imagine they ever needed more, even if they needed to feed millions.

The next ring up, contained within its own wall, was made of medieval-styled brick houses, built too close together, with narrow streets barely visible from afar.

Higher than that, I could not see, except that I saw that the walls continued to mark out the tiers. I counted six in all, though I could not make out the higher tiers all too well. The city was a mountain, and you can’t always see the peak of a mountain from the base.

My clothing, I was suddenly aware, had more in common with the poorest in the crowd than the richest. My shirt was torn, and had taken on the color of the desert sand. My jeans were the same color as the lower-class’ piss-blue. I hoped mine didn’t smell, at least.

I was once again pleasantly surprised to hear English being spoken around me. I wondered briefly about the logic of this. Although so much of what surrounded me was alien, so much of it was familiar, as well - even if they were only familiar as things I had seen in history books or video games. It was another dimension, not another planet, so perhaps this was a version of Earth where things developed differently. Animals evolved differently, civilization was built differently, the rules of physics worked differently. I glanced at the sun again. Was is bigger than Earth’s sun?

“Why do they even bother?” a man nearby was saying loudly. I couldn’t help but overhear. “They know they aren’t getting in.”

Another, female voice answered him. “They hope for mercy. They think the guards might have pity on them.”

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The man laughed. “Then they are fools, and deserve no pity. They all should have stayed in their villages.”

“Even to live outside the walls is better than to die in the wilderness, I suppose,” the woman responded.

“You do not mean that. Only the weak seeks a coward’s life over a noble death. They deserve what they get.”

Are these people fleeing something? Are they being refused entry? I wonder if they will let me in. I don’t look the most presentable. I wish I could order new clothes from RENA.

As we came closer, I saw great gates built into the outer walls. The gates were raised, but before them stood guards, who were clothed in less armor than I would have imagined. There were in chainmail and leathers - less armor than even some of the travelers approaching. Could they hold us all out, if the crowd rushed them? They don’t even look particularly well armed. Just spears.

It seemed that the multitudes funneled into lines before the gates. A few would step forward at a time, one or two guards for every one traveler, such that four or five were always being questioned at a time. Some came in groups, of course, so then that number would rise as the whole group was examined.

I stood in line, peering at the slums surrounding us on either side. The tents didn’t butt right up against the road - they kept a respectable distance - but they weren’t far away, either. Thin children peered at the crowds in curiosity, while their equally thin parents looked on with envy.

Perhaps I should just ask people there about Tom, instead of waiting in line. I might not even get in, and this is going to take ages. On the other hand… I know a bad neighborhood when I see one, even in another dimension. I think I’d be just as likely to be stabbed as have my question answered.

I decided I’d take my chances with being let inside. I could now see a group of structures just inside the gate, and the unending farmland beyond them. It wasn’t as spectacular as the higher tiers looked, but it looked picturesque compared to the squalor outside the walls.

I watched the men and women who approached the guards. Some pulled out pieces of paper, which they handed to the guards, and were let in. Others showed the guards the contents of bags, and were let in as well. I craned my head trying to get a peak at the bags’ contents, but was unable.

Still others were handed a small club by the guards. These travelers seemed to always change the club in some way, before handing it back. Sometimes the clubs would erupt in flames in their hands, or some other such shocking things - though it didn’t shock the guards, who stood unblinking. Other times the club would just glow, or change in size, or curve. All these were deemed acceptable, and the travelers were let inside.

The ones carried in palanquins were let in after having hardly having said a word to the guards. As if they only had to utter their names, and were allowed passage. Sometimes the guards would even bow.

One traveler brought a chicken with him, which was bound at the feet. It squawked loudly, trying in vain to break its bonds. He tossed on the ground before the guards. Really? I thought. A chicken is enough to get it?

Then the chicken exploded. The guard wiped chicken viscera off of his clothes, looking very unamused, but waved the man inside.

So magic power gets you in, huh? Well, I guess it’s my lucky day. It may not be as good as blowing up poultry, but it’s magic.

Most people, however, came empty-handed. These people were turned away. They were almost always the dirtiest and leanest of the crowd, as if they were already prepared for their lives in the slums outside the walls.

When my turn finally came, I walked up to a lone guard. The gate was so wide that while standing in front this guard on the right end of the gate, I could barely hear what the next guard over was saying, and couldn’t hear anything said further that that. Of course, the din of the crowd didn’t help.

“Name?” the guard asked me. I saw no point in lying.

“Miles James,” I said.

The guard looked at me with a strange look, but continued. “What brings you to our city?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Someone inside? Does that mean you have a reference? I cannot take your word for it.”

I shook my head. “No, no reference. I have magic, though.”

“Ah, well, that speeds things up. An adventurer, I suppose? You’re so pitiful looking I mistook you for a lesser. But you never can tell with you adventurers. Do you need a weapon? Or a target? You’re supposed to bring your own targets but we might be able to arrange something.”

“Nope, I don’t need anything,” I said. I reached one hand into my pocket.

I pulled out one nail, tossed it up into the air, and burned it. I felt slick as hell, doing it easily like that.

The guard was not impressed.

“Is this a joke?” He asked. His face had taken on a cruel sneer.

“Huh? Did you miss it? I could do it again, if you want.” I stuck my hand back in my pocket.

“That won’t be necessary.” The guard sighed in exasperation. “You’re not an adventurer. You’re a foreigner, is that it? That is not magic, not around here. I don’t know what mana-less hole you crawled out of, but what you just did is a disgusting party trick enjoyed only by the polluted. Come back when you have real magic, and maybe we can find a use for you in the lower ring. Maybe.”

The guard brushed me away with a gesture of his hand. I shuffled away, feeling dejected.

That’s what I get for thinking I was special.

Before I took more than a couple of steps, I heard shouting from behind me. I turned to see what the commotion was - and saw the guard I had just been talking to was looking as well. We were both looking at the next guard over, and the woman he was dealing with.

“Please!” the woman begged. She was gaunt, dressed in scraps and filth, and held a baby in the crook of one arm. The baby looked even worse than she did. “My child will die without healing! Just let me inside, you can escort me to the healers, and then I’ll leave! I’m not asking to be allowed to live in the city, just for help. Please!”

“You should have thought of that before lowering yourself to the level of a dog. Begone.”

The woman wailed. She dropped to the ground, groveling at the man’s feet. The guard looked down at her in disgust.

“Get off of me, you cur!” He kicked the woman in the jaw with his boot, sending her splaying out on the dirt. “You vermin have no shame.” Then he raised his spear.

I didn’t think. I just drew my gun.

“Stop!” I yelled, aiming the revolver at the guard. “Leave her alone or I shoot.”

It was stupid. I didn’t really know why I was doing it. I didn’t know the woman. Why should I care? But I had a firearm. And it was loaded this time. Maybe I had a chance. He wasn’t so armored that it would stop a bullet. At least, I didn’t think so.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” The guard I had been talking to before asked me, raising his own spear.

“This is a weapon of great power,” I said in a loud voice. I pointed back and forth - now at the guard with the woman, now at the guard nearest me. “Like nothing you’ve ever seen. It can kill a man dead in an instant. Leave the woman alone, or you’re dead.”

The crowd fell into silence. I felt hundreds of eyes on me.

“You fool,” my guard said. He held out one hand, and I pointed the gun at him.

“Don’t make one more move,” I said. What the hell are you going to do now, huh? Fucking idiot. Going to shoot some guards? Going to, what, shoot your way through? There are more guards here than bullets, you moron.

Then the guard closed his hand into a fist. I didn’t understand what he was doing at first, until I felt the movement in my own hand. I watched in horror as the revolver was crushed and deformed into a useless hunk of metal.

Then the guard struck me in the head with the butt of his spear, and I lost consciousness.