He jogged on the grass. The smell it gave of when freshly cut was overpowering.

He could hear the two men behind him. He ran. He really did have the worst luck for those men to be chasing him now. He smirked that things weren’t the same as they were last time. He exited the park crossing between two houses and into the busy streets. The Carts were lined end to end in the streets. It was a heavy traffic jam. In a bustling city like this it wasn’t uncommon at all. Angry cries and reptilian shrieks replaced the honking horns that would have been present in his world. Glancing up the road the cause of the traffic was clear. It caught Maxwell’s eyes almost immediately, his gaze drifted to it as he took in his surroundings. A cart- no a carriage for it was much finer than a simple farmer’s cart used for lugging hay and produce was blocking the road. It had two central arches at the back and one at the front. Delicately carved pieces of dark and rich colored wood lay across the scaffolding as if they simply floated down perfectly from the heavens. Metal accents appear handwritten in a flowery language on its surface. The craftsmanship was unreal, as if it was the essence of artistry brought into existence. Unfortunately the beautiful carriage was a great nuisance. All other people busy with their day were forced to go around it like a large boulder diverting water in a river

He peered behind him seeing the two men red-faced and yelling absurdities at him.

He darted in between the many wagons. The carts were slow moving and he was able to navigate around them. The cobblestone ground reverberated underneath him as the large wooden wheels rolled over it. He hadn’t fully realised how dangerous it was to be there. He hadn’t thought it would be so akin to running into full traffic as well. Each cart was full to the brim with resources. He narrowly avoided getting his foot crushed by a wheel.

The thick scent of animals. It was stuffy, and warm. It stunk to high heaven and he hadn’t showered in over a week while sweating constantly, eating trash and sleeping on the streets. A wagon was off to the side of a road. A wiry man who had seen better days was crouched at the side of it over one of the large wooden wheels. Several of the rough spokes were splintered. The pair of lizard creatures were not even attached to the front but tethered to the side of it. Maxwell saw a chance. If he was lucky the thugs wouldn’t follow him across the busy road. Luck had never been his thing so he had ruled that out. They were particularly determined to cause him hell which meant it was only a matter of time before they found him. One of the lizards snarled at the sight of him, assaulting his nose with its foul breath.

“Shh,” hissed Maxwell, bringing a finger to his mouth. That wasn’t the only stench a pile of dung lay by their feet. It was a weird greenish goop, the longer he looked at it the more revolting it got. He was not going to let a lizard give him away. They looked weirder up close. They resembled velociraptors like from one of those dinosaur movies he’d seen once but they were much larger and heftier. There might have been intelligence in its eyes as it looked at him. He traced a finger in the air, its eye moved in the same pattern, tracing its every move. Why would anyone have these tow carts, they seemed far too predatory? Perhaps there simply wasn’t any other choice.

He heard heavy footsteps. They weren’t the thugs or the owner of the cart. Armour? Is it a soldier? What for? Were they after him? Possibilities flashed in his mind. He’d gotten into a lot of fights, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were people out to get him. Maybe it was even the Blood Rams, a corrupt officer perhaps? He crouched, readying himself to run as soon as they came into view.

“Hey there!” shouted a serious voice. It wasn’t the greeting of someone reuniting with a long lost friend. A line of sweat trickled down Maxwell’s brow.

“Your Hadneri are defecating on the Spire River, do you understand that sir!” said the man. Maxwell eased slightly, he wasn’t the target. He hadn’t realised he’d been tensing his muscles.

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“It’s state property you know that’s a punishable offence. Everybody knows this, this road must remain clean, it’s disrespectful to the emperor themself for you to do this!” barked the soldier. Why is this man wearing so much armour? Observed Maxwell peeking over the side. Most soldiers he’d seen had been wearing relatively light, casual armour. A cuirass or a chainmail shirt. Strapped to their waist would perhaps be a sword or sometimes even a dagger. He had also seen the occasional spear, they seemed to be less popular.

The soldier’s shiny grey armour reflected sunlight along its edges, not a scratch on its pristine surface. There were markings on the surface but the sun made it hard to distinguish its features. From the waist, both a sword and a dagger hung on opposite ends. Strapped to his back a shield could be made out. It matched the color of the armour, the only thing that gave it away was the slight protrusion of the extra layer. The times he’d usually see full-plate armour was when soldiers were stationary, ones most likely sent to stand guard at specific locations.

“Huhh, nobody told me this,” replied the merchant scratching his scraggly chin. “I brought my wares from a remote village. My cart here isn’t faring too well from the long journey. I haven't found a proper place to let them graze yet.”

“Don’t you understand what you’re doing!” said the man waving his hands in exasperation. “You could be locked up for this. This is the main road in and out of the city. It cannot and will not be desecrated by some country troglodyte!” he said.

“I’ll be back soon, if this isn’t cleaned up and you continue on your merry way by then you’ll be fined!”

“But I don’t have any money, I haven’t even been able to sell my wares yet.”

“Well then we’ll simply confiscate them as well as your Hadneri. “

“But then I’ll have nothing left what of the enormous carriage taking up half the road,” croaked the man gesturing further forward but the only ones to hear those words were Maxwell and the man himself for the soldier had already marched off muttering about “Uneducated folk,” and “Desecrating the capital.”

While listening in on the conversation with his back against the rear of the cart Maxwell had stared ahead down the road. The soldier had referred to the road as the spire river and Maxwell could indeed see how it resembled one. A river not made from water and dirt but from flowing cobblestone and bustling people. It wound downwards, meandering lazily left and right. Further down it separated into individual streams. A heavy draft of wind brought cinnamon, honey and barbecuing meats wafting to him. He inhaled deeply. It’s probably coming from the marketplace. The fresh scents washed the putrid smell of livestock from his lungs. It seemed to be the main destination of many in the city. Where farmers and artisans came from all over to sell their wares, produce and craftwork. The farmers who helped me get to Vanderbilt’s Household were probably also trying to make it there. It would explain why they were angry for the detour he made them take. They then proceeded to try and strangle him to death afterwards when the detour had been in vain so He didn’t forgive them of course.

“Where did that little street rat go!” said voice in frustration

Speaking of people out to get me… Maxwell massaged his shoulders briefly. He brought his hands back to his sides, twitching. Ice crawled down his arm, encircling his tensed fist. Their footsteps approached. He didn’t know if he could beat them but he could send them a message. If they wouldn’t leave him alone, there was no other choice. He would send a little greeting for the pain he could cause them. The pair of footsteps were right around the corner.

Maxwell inhaled sharply before turning the corner. He reached his arm back leaping forward and clotheslining the tall thug. The guy’s right-angled head caught in the crook of his icy elbow, causing him to pinwheel head over heels before slamming to the ground.

“Eek!” squeaked the merchant. “Help, I'm being robbed!” he shouted feebly.