Approaching the village the first things he noticed, now that he was close enough to see, were simple building facades, alleys between the houses and some villagers milling around at some crossroad ahead, children and adults. The houses didn't have bricks, the walls being made of wooden planks, stone and mortar, or just mortar.

What kind of mortar would they use? Clay? Do they have cement and concrete?

His vague attempt at deciphering the population's technology level was interrupted as he was startled by a dog that started barking. Apparently it was behind the palisades, so he hadn't seen it, but as the dog noticed his approach it marked his arrival.

Gregory walked up to the entrance and awkwardly stopped there for a bit, glancing first at the dog that was tied down, and then back at Lengtan and Patty departing.

"I'm no one suspicious," he tried reassuring the dog, when a man ducked out of the building next to where the dog's spot was.

"Simmer down, Topper! I've got this." the new arrival adressed the animal first, before turning to the actual new arrival.

"Traveler, eh? You'll find the inn just down the street here. You see where the streets meet there, turn right and you'll find it right there." He pointed down the street, before slipping back inside the building again.

Was that the guard..? Seems lenient.

Gregory's eyes rolled back and forth as he took the village and houses in, advancing down the street.

It's a bit dusty from not having paved streets, but I suppose a place like this has its own charm.

Turning round the corner, the young man in his odd-for-the-setting getup faced a lively street which was likely to be the main street of the village. With plenty of bustle, like wooden carts and simple wagons, roughly dressed adults going about their business, children running errands...

The wide streets were not crowded at all, a good deal of the liveliness came from the apparent merriment of the inhabitants. Instead of everyone silently entering their own dimensional corridor of "just passing through", most people seemed to exhude a good mood – greeting others, throwing banter, waving and gesturing...

No animals were present, likely to keep the street clean, making the carts ones you pulled or pushed by hand. The biggest carts in the street were a couple of vendors – one selling chilled fruits and milk, one barbecued skewers – their temptations drawing people in with certain inevitability. Temptations that did not fail to catch the attention of our protagonist, who had spent considerable energy getting here.

Greg was curious about those vendors, and he could feel the stomach monster called "hunger" waking up, but they were still further down the street. His target was the big building that apparently would be the inn. It was just a couple of buildings of walking and he would reach what seemed to be a front wall. The inn looked to have three floors and an attic, a limited space up top - under its sloped roof, which towered over the wall at the front entrance.

There seemed to be some sort of queue of men that waited in front, along the wall so as to not crowd the street, so he joined at the end.

Of the six men in the queue, five were eyeing what was clearly a stranger curiously. Because that was the sort of label they would give him – "stranger". Similar to foreigner, but definitely not traveler-from-a-different-dimension. If they knew, the situation would turn a lot more awkward. Sometimes a lack of knowledge could actually help things run more smoothly.

There were certain things that were just better to be progressively familiarised with.

Since Gregory had nothing better to do, waiting at the end of the queue, he took the man in front of him in.

He seemed to be some sort of veteran with white hair, a white, untrimmed beard, skin like a 70-year-old something, and a leg that ended in wood where normally a foot would be. Gregory got a bit curious about the simple prosthesis.

"Have you tried using cork padding to make it more comfortable?" he spoke up and asked, gesturing to the man's artificial limb.

"Cork? What's'at? I use cloth scraps."

"Cork is the bark of a certain tree. It's spongy and has a decent bounce to it, but it doesn't collapse and get compacted as much as cloth or hairs and fibers like that."

"We don't have that here. Is it common where ye're from?" the old man had a somewhat course way of speaking, but he seemed comfortable with small talk.

"Yes, it's quite common." Greg was however also realizing that it was probably made common by global trade.

"Well, specific examples like cork aside, the key lies in finding the appropriate material. There might be some sort of sea sponge or dried mushroom in the local area that could do the job. If you're happy with your padding, there's no problem though. I was just thinking."

Gregory's glib tongue was one of his skills, or characteristics – if you thought it too generous to call it a skill.

"Huh..." was the reply he got as the queue moved forward one slot.

"Say, would I be correct in assuming that this is the inn?"

" 'at's'right."

"And what would we be queuing for? Is it at full capacity?"

"It's for washing up before going in."

"Ah, yes. My hands are probably dusty from traveling, so that would be appreciated."

"Did ye arrive just now?"

"That's right, my arrival was recent enough that the dog might still be listening where I went after turning the corner."

"Pfeugh! Topper's a good lad."

After scoffing like that, the well-bearded old man seemed content with the introduction, however Gregory was not.

"The name's Greg, short for Gregory. Pleasure making acquaintance with you."

Gregory was just casually running his mouth, he didn't realize that he had just made it clear to the villager that he wasn't some uptight foreigner who was too fancy for villagefolk, and didn't want anything to do with them. Suddenly he was actually approachable.

"I'm Jeri, and this pearl here," he gestured to the larger-than-others building of the inn, "is the Pioneer's Recline."

Apparently it wasn't just a big building, but a great one, in the eyes of the villagers.

"That's an interesting choice of name, would this village be some type of frontier settlement?"

"Pretty much! It's the edge of civilization, you did well to come here!

Once we've washed off I'll treat ye to the fine food of the owner and chef."

Greg started thinking fast.

Is this where I act modest? But I don't have any money and I haven't gotten a job yet, you could pretty much say that I'm desperate for food. The alternatives would be foraging, trading service for food like washing dishes... digging through the trash for scraps, or begging.

Greg came to the conclusion that it would be best to be appreciative without pulling lines like "Oh no, I can't bother you. That's too much." He would probably do well to stay away from any sort of suggestion for the man to retract his offer.

He also had no idea what kind of culture and habits they had here. Maybe they didn't have things like subtle phrasing or sarcasm, meaning it would be best to be very literal.

"I would be delighted! It's always interesting to sample new cuisines." Greg was being honest, it was something he enjoyed, but he also tagged on 'sample', because it could be understood as him not trying to impose too much on the generosity of others. If he was to build good relations, he didn't want to be seen as someone pigging it out at the slightest opportunity.

"One of the things that I enjoy most of all is to hear about the stories and experiences of others. If we could share a meal and have a chat, that would just make my day."

It also wouldn't be bad if he turned the focus away from material things.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

As he saw the men in front of him washing off, he noticed that they were quite liberal in doing so.

The washing area had a couple of barrels of water and a container to scoop it up and fill wide bowls on a sturdy table. Big pieces of slate stone had been laid on the ground, causing the water spilled to smatter down and run down the edges.

The men would use a bowl to wash their hands, splash their faces, maybe pour some down their shirts, pour some over their feet...

Gregory wondered if it wouldn't have been troublesome to lay those really wide stones there as flooring. The one at the table where you stood was way bigger than marble floor slabs he had seen.

Their black, smooth surface looks good with the water splashing though, you just had to be careful not to slip, he supposed as he walked a bit cautiously when it was his turn.

Jeri waited for him at the following station with course towels where people roughly dried off, mostly not to stain the floors going inside. As Greg dried his hands off Jeri spoke up.

"Right this way then. Miss Morey's cooking will show ye that even small villages like these are nothing to sneer at."

"I'm sure, I'm sure." Greg said with a smile, which he kept as they went inside.

The inn had a cheerful atmosphere inside – hard-working fellows of various kinds getting their bellies filled. It was dark compared to the bright sun outside, however the place had a brightness of its own thanks to a fireplace and the bright mood of the guests. Once Gregory's eyes had adjusted to the change in light he was struck by the homely feel, lots of hand-made, worn-down wooden interior and furnishing, as well as the charm of the whole experience.

"Morey!" Jeri called from the bar "A special of the house bread-dead for me and our visitor here."

The old man had quite the spunk to his step for someone with a significant handicap of both age and feet. However he didn't have to walk far as he sat down at the tall stools at the bar, taking his wooden leg off and leaning it against the bottom of the counter. He gestured to Greg to sit as well as he approached.

A woman, who was obviously a cook, popped out into the kitchen doorway to take a peek at whatever could've earned the label "our visitor". Somehow the words 'well-rounded' came to Gregory's mind, because of her chubby cheeks, waist handles bulging out because of the apron being tight around the waist, and the woman being chubby in general without it being excessive.

Behind her some other kind of personnel peeked out as well.

"Coming right up, Jeri." She declared like a true chef, before popping back into the kitchen. They seemed to be quite busy at the moment.

"Nice place," Gregory commented to Jeri as he looked around a bit more where they sat.

Jeri was brimming with pride already. "Just wait until you try the food!"

"Emerald! Come say hi to the visitor," he called to one of the patrons who he seemed to know well. Since the man had finished his meal and was just sitting and chatting, he readily sauntered over.

It was another elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair in various tones of black, white and gray. His build was lean and he seemed confident, but without ambitions or the fire of youth, as a humble old villager might be.

"This is Greg, who just arrived here," Jeri introduced him

"A pleasure to make you acquaintance, I'm Gregory, but you can call me Greg. A traveler who just arrived at your fair village."

"Pleasure's the same, Greg. I'm Emerald. Curious to see other people find us here in the outskirts."

"He came from the west," Jeri interjected.

That was apparently even more curious as Emerald raised his eyebrows and asked, "You're from the north then?"

"No, I came from wandering the coast in the south." Greg replied, before realizing that he might've made a serious mistake. If this was another world, then he had absolutely no idea about the geography. Emerald had even supplied that he assumed he was from the north, but Greg just expressed that he wasn't. It might be that he had to salvage the situation.

"I've been traveling about for quite some time now. Thinking of taking a break in civilization again."

"Sounds like quite the expedition, yeah? Well you're welcome here, we tend to see a lot of the same, so we're happy to have travelers stop by. We get sick of only hearing the news from the occasional peddlers."

"On the contrary I was quite curious about what stories you would have. I'm afraid that I am more of a listener than a story-teller." was Gregory's somewhat tactically measured response.

"Emerald, me and a few others are part of a crew of veterans. We help out where we can, without grumbling like restless teenagers." Jeri took the lead, making further introductions.

"This village is mostly self-sufficient. Hunters, herd animals, gatherers, farmers – with only a few artisans, mostly for maintenance."

"What would the local speciality be?" Gregory felt good getting some actual information and understanding of his surroundings. It was awkward floating around on a cloud of unawareness.

"Morey's cooking!" Jeri seemed to be enthusiastic about the food here, which seemed promising.

Emerald leaned forward from the other side of Jeri, where he had sat down, to jump into the conversation.

"Ye can't just bring up food. He means things like produce, and materials. Tory is known for tizon milk and meat, weatherberries, fishing... tizon leather..."

"Tory? This is Tory village? I heard about a Turseville or something..?"

"Tersville is the closest city east of here."

"Pfaugh! Bunch of busybodies of cityfolk." Jeri seemed to like that exclamation.

"I see..." Gregory was already feeling a bit fond of this village. It could be nice to see if he could stay for a few days.

"So the tizon are not as common to the east?"

"East they have wide areas of farmland. It's problematic enough keeping animals out as is, so tizon are primarily kept here and with the neighboring villages and city outskirts."

"I saw some walking over here. Gorgeous big brutes, I'm thinking that it's best to keep my distance if I don't want to get trampled?"

"They're peaceful up until mating season. Ye don't have to worry for a few months yet."

After a bit more small talk, miss Morey came out of the kitchen, cheeks rosy from the heat of the kitchen, deftly holding two plates of glazed earthenware. She put them down on the counter as she joined the conversation.

"A traveler, eh? That's grand, what are ye here for?"

"I am just making a stop on my travels. Nothing fancy, just getting introduced to the area here by Jeri and Emerald."

"Well if you want a chat, they have plenty. Eat up and rest, and we'll hear the rest after. Welcome to the Pioneer's Recline, and I hope you enjoy the simple hospitality of us countryfolk."

"This seems great," Gregory complimented the food as he turned his plate a bit to get a look at the food. It seemed like some kind of grilled steak sandwich with meat and vegetables inside, and sauce dripping out of it. The browned slices of meat and the golden brown of the bread were appetizing, and he couldn't help but salivate.

Miss Morey shook her head and waved his compliment off with a smile as she headed back into the kitchen.

Jeri had already started eating, so Gregory grabbed his sandwich and joined in. Chewing for a bit it was as if the universe showed its hidden stars, glittering all around him, as his enjoyment synapses were firing off. Food! Juicy! Glory!

"You weren't kidding, Jeri, this is divine!"

"Heh-heh," he laughed, "I had a feeling it wouldn't be lost on you."

Greg hadn't noticed at first, but there was a bit of cheese inside, probably tizon, judging what he had heard from the villagers, and the sauce was actually more like a vegetable stew, and some of the vegetable pieces he had seen had been cooked in it to develop lots of flavor. When the cheese and stew had been cooked together in the bread as it toasted, it came out a bit like how tomato sauce and cheese combines in pizza.

The bread was toasted on both sides, giving it a delightful crust. Greg would say that It was somewhere between a pizza and a grilled sandwich. The cheesy goodness with the bread, the stew, some kinds of spices...

Maybe it was because he had been walking out in the fresh air for a good while, but It was probably one of the best meals he had ever had.

Trust villagers to know a thing or two about the joys of food.

Unfortunately it lasted too shortly, as he had soon finished it.

One of the staff, maybe some kind of waiter, was heading out of the kitchen carrying food for other tables as Morey came out behind and headed to the bar to pour a few drinks.

"The meal is sublime, miss Morey. You could say that I have traveled extensively" – he was pretty sure that these people hadn't flown across a planet – "but my experiences are humbled by the ingenuity of a skilled tavernkeep."

Maybe he was laying it on too thick, but he was quite pleased from having good food like this. Maybe it was also true that free food was extra tasty.

Emerald had poured him and Jeri some water that wasn't exactly cool, but still enjoyable just from being so satisfied with the meal.

"How about a glass of fruit punch, on the house?" miss Morey glanced up from the small glasses.

"One for me as well," Emerald piped up.

She served three glasses of a green drink, and then leaned on her hands against the bar. Gregory raised his glass in a gesture, but he didn't say anything, because he wasn't sure if they did. Jeri raised his glass silently as well, before downing half, and Gerald raised his and said "Cheers."

So they do say cheers here.

"To the Pioneer's Recline and Tory village," Gregory instead dedicated his cheer.

"And to great food!" Jeri raised his glass again and drank his second half.

Jeri hadn't even finished his food yet, so he went back to finish what he had started.

They called it fruit punch? Feels like there's almost no alcohol content, the blend of fruits tastes good though.

It was a satisfying glass to have at the end of a satisfying meal.

"Since I've been wandering around the wilds for a while now, I was thinking about getting a job and maybe staying in civilization for a while, would you perhaps know where I could look around for one?" He didn't want to impose, so he didn't mention the village. He was prepared to head over to Tersville, wherever that was.

Miss Morey spoke up first, the figure of authority that she was in the place, "The cities always have jobs, like Tersville for example.

Do ye have any experience with animals? I know there's a tizon rancher that's hurt himself and has been asking for help from the veteran crew and others," she said, nodding at Emerald and Jeri.

"If ye don't mind common labor and getting a bit dirty, you could join us for a bit. There's always use for a helping hand."

Greg's heart was warmed by Jeri being forward and open towards him. It would've been easy for them to be cold towards some random stranger like him. Emerald was thoughtfully nodding behind, and didn't seem to show any aversion.

"I don't have proper experience for animals like that, but a temporary worker kind of job sounds good. I also have an interest in gathering, so I've been trying to learn a bit about the fruits and berries around here. I know of a few that I definitely shouldn't be tasting, and I've heard of gathering and weatherberries..? Was that the name?"

"Weatherberries are farmed, and a bit sensitive, but gathering is definitely something you could do."

"Farmer Grynd has a wheeltrough you could probably borrow, and baskets are plenty."

Suddenly it turned into a conference with different ideas, but Gregory was happy. It looked like things would turn out OK. He felt like he needed to be clear about something, so he interrupted the talk of work.

"Is this village a part of some kind of kingdom or country? What kind of currency do you use here? Is bartering common?"

The others looked at him and blinked. The young man had no cash.