Before I realise it, the sun has dipped overhead, more than beginning its decent into the afternoon.

However, I couldn't just let her hospitality, the first bit of comfort and compassion I've had in this world, be left on such a bittersweet note.

Although we can't understand each other, I rambled away for a good few hours about my predicament to the spideress. She laughed, smiled, and seemed less lonely. She wouldn't have gotten a word of what I was saying, obviously, but having someone willing to spend time with her, gesticulating wildly, acting out as much as possible, I'm sure the effort was appreciated. It only dawned on me how long had passed when I went to refill my glass for the umpteenth time and nothing even sloshed in the jug. My host made a move to refill the vessel, unfurling her great spindly limbs like a crinoline from beneath her, but I waved her back to down. I stood, stretched, pointed to the sun to emphasis the time, and bowed profusely.

The spideress reluctantly allowed me to leave, pouting through my barrage of gratitude and promises to return once I'd sorted out all my starter stuff. There was no web to entrap me, save her charm, and were I to ever succumb to misery, unable to find a way home, I would gladly be ensnared by such a sublime cellar-spideress.

As she sends me off, playfully peeking over the top of her fence, the epitome of an ethereal enchantress, I feel lighter. If not a little weighed down from most of a litre of gradually warmer water. Better to have my stomach full of liquid than nothing at all. Even though thinking about it has only made me acutely aware of how hungry I am, and worse, how much I need the bathroom. I could have asked before leaving, but that would have been so embarrassing to do charades for, not to mention impolite to impose on a new acquaintance, however accommodating they might be.

I decide to hold it until I get to the Adventurers' Guild. They'll have facilities there, even for newbies.

Reorientating myself, I set off in the rough direction of the last building that looked promising earlier. If it's on this side of town, what with it being a bit rougher round here, maybe Adventurers aren't well thought of? Bit odd for a starter town though. Well, even if the idea of becoming one is cool to me, doesn't mean people in this world think of them as anything more than brutish mercenaries, scrounging vagabonds, or borderline criminals.

I am almost skipping as I bound along the lanes, floating past empty entrance-ways and the odd soul that either ignores or glares and grumbles in perplexity at my passing. It's in part the exponential need to pee, but also the lingering levity from being social for the first time in days, that adds such swiftness to my steps. The last building I'm heading towards is on the descending edge of town, sloping off the side of the small plateau, and I am there before I know it.

It's a bust.

The place is a hay shed.

That makes this a total wash.

Everywhere I thought might be the classic starting place to pick up quests or register as a player character is just a big house or a barn or or or...

The impulse to pee on the bails bounces to the forefront of my mind, I do really need to go, but I dejectedly climb my way back up to the centre of town instead. Can't take out my frustrations on the poor defenceless hay. I need to find somewhere soon though.

It hits me when I come in sight of the old lizardmen on the highstreet again, their drinking and smoking and, I assume, kvetching, sparking a memory. A last glimmer of hope. FIND AN INN!!!

I decide not to bother trying to interact with them, having not had particularly good luck so far, but I still have a nose from across the road, and it appears they're sat in front of a hardware store. No use to me.

One seems to be the owner, the other a friend, the place sparsely filled with hoes and rakes and what not. A young lizardboy can dimly be made out in the shadows within, beetling about, occasionally sticking his head out the open store-front to receive orders, remove empties, bring out the next round... It fills me with pity for the life of an apprentice, being treated like a dogsbody, and you don't even inherit the business either. You get some skills, sure, but then when you're good enough, or start demanding a wage, you're kicked out to go fend for yourself, right?!.

Honestly, I don't know...

The thought passing along with my gaze onto the neighbouring buildings, examining them intensely, trying to discern their contents. It's only mid-afternoon, so cafes should still be open, and restaurants will either still be closed after lunch to prepare for dinner, or in the process of opening for evening service. An inn is more like a bar that does food, and beds, so it should sort of always be open?

I take to sniffing out the scent of cooking, as well as listening for the clatter of waiting tables, what with most of the buildings being indistinct from the outside, and my not being able to read any of the infrequent signage anyway.

I stick my head in through the doors of a few places that sound promising, but the noise from within is usually that of a workshop or general store. I get shooed out more than a few times. I catch the odd whiff of smoke, but that's no real help either, having smelt it on the breeze all morning around town. Most everyone seems to be heating or burning something, all of it with wood, so it's not great for distinguishing a place preparing food. I quickly exhaust my side of the highstreet, crossing before the corner that looks out over the river, and my mouth starts watering.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The first building seems a little too small to be an inn, maybe it's a tavern then? What's the difference anyway; food and drink, but no bed? Isn't that just a cafe or restaurant though? I guess it depends on what they serve. Hmm... I wonder if they'll hav-

CLAP

I slap my cheeks to stop myself from spiralling into food fantasies.

It smarts a fair bit, more so on my bruised cheek from where the beastman sucker-punched me earlier, but my head clears quick enough.

The bewitching scent of cooking wafts out from every crack in the ramshackle building. The windows overhead, gushing heat enough to contend with the summer sun, forcing me to duck under their jet streams as I slip along the front to the entrance. I compose myself, smoothing out my clothes a little to come across less shabby, and walk into the tavern.

It's slightly dimmer than I expected, or maybe the glare from outside has been burned into my vision, making it take longer to adjust to an interior again. I scrunch my eyes up tight, let the TV static cover everything, then open them again to a still somewhat dingy, cramped space.

Nonchalantly sitting at the nearest empty table, so as not to appear unfamiliar with the place and draw unwanted attention, I realise I didn't have a plan beyond finding somewhere that fit the bill. There isn't a menu or anything for me to pretend to read, just an empty table and chair opposite. I keep my head down, my gaze fixed on the patterns in the wooden surface, and I try to work out what to do next, fidgeting all the while.

Thankfully, the one beastperson waiting tables is too busy with a couple of other customers to pay me any heed. Before I succumb to low blood sugar induced panic, I wrack my brain for tropes. I got as far as find an inn earlier. I know that's where you can pick up side quests in RPGs at least. How do you get a quest in a tavern though? I can't remember...

"Think, idiot!"

I curse under my breath, trying not to look like the scruffy gibbering wastrel I probably already appear to be.

Okay, so... It's usually the owner, or whoever is working the bar. Someone that's always here, friendly with everyone, gets gossip from the locals and news from travellers or merchants passing through. There's sometimes a specific character hanging around too, like a local outcast, or a shadowy stranger, they're usually sat in a corner booth on their own looking moody. All I have to do is casually glance about and identify likely quest givers, okay... not too difficu-

"FU..."

The shout nearly escapes me, but gets caught behind gritted teeth, when I remember none of this matters...

I CAN'T SPEAK THE LANGUAGE!!!

THUD

My bladder squeezes as I jolt in the seat. I might have actually dribbled a little... god I hope not!

Uncertainly, I look up into the snout of the pig faced beastperson that's working front of house. They've planted a heavy glass of water on the table next to me, grunting in a seemingly merry tone as they try to bury a leather backed menu under my own nose. I beam at them the most forced smile I have ever mustered. I take a sip from the glass to calm myself at their abrupt arrival, looking back and forth between the incomprehensible list in front of me and my snuffling server, I hope that by quickly pointing at it and giving them a thumbs up they'll leave me alone for a minute to think.

"Phew-pugh!"

I had started to sigh with relief that my pantomime had gone down well with the crowd of one, but as the pigperson turned to go tend to someone else – their belly nudging the table an inch or so left, causing a wave of water to rock out of the glass, which miraculously stayed still otherwise – they thumped me on the back with a stout meaty trotter, causing me to gasp and them to squeal in amusement as they totter away. I shake my head. A muddle of mirrored merriment and my own anger at being messed with vie for mastery of my emotions. I echo the pigperson's laughter to not seem put out, giving them a moment to get out of earshot before muttering peevishly to myself.

I hate being made the centre of attention. It makes me feel like the butt of a very public joke.

Even just reading something out or asking a question in class, feeling everyone's eyes on me, it's electric. It makes me shiver. The static prickle of pointed scrutiny is painfully real.

I go to sip some more water, but put the glass right back down in the same motion. I am already clenching every muscle in my lower body not to pee myself, any more water and I might just burst. I need to find a bathroom. NOW. I scan the room. The only door is the entrance. The kitchen is a long open counter against the side wall. I am not miming how to pee to that pig.

I stand up more briskly than intended, scraping the chair on the floor behind me while gripping the table edge. The pigperson trots back over instantaneously to investigate. Please don't start squealing in my face or something. Please go away. Please leave me alone. I just need to pee. My skin starts to itch in that instinctive way it does to warn you when insects are crawling across it and I know without glancing about to check that everyone in the tavern is staring at me.

I hate this.

I'm frozen.

Paralysed by their collective piercing gaze.

My bloated bladder begging for release.

The pig oinking in my ear, it's paunch pushing against my arm.

I am too distracted to discern its intent as concern or coercion.

I just need to get outside.

I need to pee.

A DISTRACTION!!!

Instead of flipping the table, what evil did it ever do to me, or knocking the glass of water on the floor, I throw my head back, hands on myhips, let out the loudest fakest laugh possible - like some mad scientist - and stride out of the tavern. As soon as I am within reach of the door I lunge through, ignoring the silent stupefaction left in my wake, and b-line into the nearest alleyway. It loops behind the building. I would prefer to get further away, but my bladder won't let me.

Dancing on the spot, looking around frantically to make sure I'm not spotted, I lean up against the wall and...

The relief is instant, if not a little painful from how much pressure is behind it. I rue not having anything to wipe with, even more so that there does actually seem to be a tiny damp patch in my shorts and no way to dry it. I shake off. Feeling alleviated and ashamed, I set to finding another inn or tavern, anywhere that might harbour a plot hook, and maybe a bite to eat. Pity I can never show my face in there again, the food smelt amazing.