Even though the skinny man had disappeared into the kitchen, an oppressive tension hung in the tavern’s common room. My feline senses were on high alert, as I crouched on the bar. I could fear and anticipation on the faces of people around me. The aroma of stale ale of the last night, mingled with the the roasted meat served to the children. Though not all children had meat, only a few did. It was mostly the ones wearing the better clothes and a couple from the ones who looked like beggars, who were having meat. A majority of the children were just having bread with some gruel.

The bartender went about his mundane tasks, while the children slowly ate the food. Their movements were stiff and mechanical, as if trying to appear normal under the weight of unseen eyes. Time crawled by at an insufferable pace. The tavern was mostly silent. Only the occasional silent whispers, the clink of spoons and forks hitting the plates and bowls and the scrape of a chair as someone shifted uneasily broke the calm. Despite the calm, everyone seemed anxious.

At long last, the kitchen door creaked open, breaking the seemingly eternal wait that had only lasted around half an hour. The thin man emerged, flanked by his bulky bodyguards. His eyes swept across the room, and his lips curled into a what might have been a smile but looked more like a predator baring its teeth. He then said something to the children.

His words, though unintelligible to me, carried a false warmth that made my fur stand on end. But the children... oh, the children. They responded with an enthusiasm that seemed genuine, their eyes lighting up as if he'd promised them the world. It was a stark contrast to the fear they'd shown earlier. I couldn't help but think about the kind of hold this man had over them. After finishing his short speech, the thin man exited the tavern.

The children, released from whatever spell he had cast, couldn't contain themselves and started laughing and chatting nonstop. They eagerly resumed their meals, as if competing who would finish it first. The clatter of utensils and the buzz of conversation filled the air. The bartender as well, looking evidently relieved, busied himself with the morning crowd.

I saw my chance amidst the chaos of resumed commotion. I stretched my limbs slowly, getting rid of the stiffness in my muscles from crouching for so long. Slowly, I crept towards the edge of the bar, my paws barely making a sound against the polished wooden counter. The bartender was distracted, and the children were engrossed in their food. This was the perfect opportunity.

Seeing everyone distracted, I slipped down from the bar. I quickly moved under the nearby table to stay out of sight. My small size allowed me to weave between the legs of the people going unnoticed mostly. A couple kids saw me moving but of-course they had no reason to stop me. A few moments later, I was at the door. I tried to push it open but it was too heavy for my weak body. I waited, as patiently as a cat can. It was only a few moments later that a child pushed it open to leave. I quickly darted out into the busy, chaotic tavern square.

…

The square was alive and full of activity. It was packed with vendors, horses, carts, and pedestrians moving in every direction. My feline senses were assaulted more and more as I moved into the crowd. There was the smell of freshly baked bread mixed with fragrant smells of herbs from nearby stalls. There was also the pungent odor of sweat and horse manure. My nose twitched, overwhelmed by the huge range of scents. I scanned the streets in fascination.

I saw a lot of cart stalls which were absent last night. Armed men and women looked around at the wares displayed by these stalls. Some of them contained weapons and armor while others medicine and herbs.

Are these guys rich or is this world too cheap. They are spending money like water.

The noise of people haggling assaulted my ears and I winced.

It’ll take me some time to get adjusted to my sharp senses. I should get out of here for now.

I decided to take a different road this time than the last night. This was the widest of all the roads leaving from the square. Tall stone buildings lined the street, their facades worn with age but still standing strong. Some were simple and minimalist, while others sported intricate carvings or banners fluttering from ledges. The clatter of hooves echoed as horses pulled carts laden with goods. I saw barrels of fruit, sacks of grain, and crates filled with trinkets and tools.

The amount of people using this path was also far higher than others. I never imagined that even medieval cities will be suffering from overpopulation. People from all walks of life crowded the street. Some were dressed in fine, tailored clothes, their heads held high as they made their way through the bustling markets with purpose. Others, more ragged and worn, shuffled by, keeping their heads low as they passed the more affluent citizens. Beggars sat in corners, their hands outstretched, eyes pleading as they watched the flow of people move past them. I spotted a a couple children from the ones I had seen in the tavern begging in front of a shop. The shopkeeper shouted at them and they moved onto the next shop.

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I wandered aimlessly at first, simply enjoying the sights around me. But soon enough, I started to observe my surroundings more carefully, trying to create a mental map of the city. Unlike last night, I was determined not to lose my way. I made a conscious effort to remember the path I was taking. I made mental notes at each turn: the crooked tree at the crossroads, the baker's stall with the lopsided sign, the fountain shaped like a dolphin. I even tried to decipher the street signs, though the unfamiliar script remained a mystery to me.

It was easy to keep track of where I was going because as it turned out, this wasn’t a big city. The main market was restricted to a few streets with the tavern square being at their heart. I also had gotten a good sense of the direction of things so far. The slums, where I first woke up were to the west. A couple blocks east of it was the tavern square. I had gone east of the square yesterday night where I first met Celine. That was an affluent portion of the city. But it seemed that the most prosperous section was to the north. The big street that I was travelling on went north. The size of the shops and houses increased as I covered more distance.

As I walked along, trying to take in everything at once, a commotion up ahead caught my attention. A number of people had gathered around something. It was a construction site. As I went closer, I marveled at the scale of the project. The skeleton of a large building was already taking shape, its stone walls reaching toward the sky. Curious, I trotted closer, weaving between legs until I had a clear view. What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks, my jaw dropping open in a very un-catlike expression of awe. This... this was magic. Real, honest-to-goodness magic, being used as casually as one might use a forklift back on Earth.

Couple men, dressed in robes decorated with intricate symbols, were gesturing at massive stone blocks. As they did so, the blocks rose into the air as if they weighed no more than feathers, floating gracefully into place. Their hands moved around drawing circles in the air. I could see the air shimmer around the stone blocks with what looked like an energy field. The blocks moved so easily and precisely that it would make any crane operator on Earth jealous.

But it wasn't just the magic that caught my eye. Among the workers were three creatures that could only be said to have come out of a fantasy story. They were massive, easily a foot taller than the humans around them, with mauve colored skin.

I knew it was mauve because I once had a girlfriend who got upset that I got her a heather color lipstick while she wanted a mauve one. I tried to learn the Pantone color palette for lipsticks after that, to no avail.

They had muscles that looked like a tree trunk. Their noses were flat while their mouth protruded a bit giving them a none human look. Still, the most notable feature about them was a single ibex-like horn on their head. That shit was massive. That’s what she said. Not really, though. She kinda said the opposite. But that’s not the point right now.

Anyway, I snooped on the discussion of people around me. Though illegible I could make out that these creatures were called Varnaks.

Unlike the mages who used magic, the varnaks relied on their raw physical strength to lift stone blocks and beams. Their grunts and snarls punctuated the sounds of the construction site. They carried loads that would have crushed a normal human, their muscles rippling under their rough skin. Yet, there was an air of... resignation about them. They moved with purpose but without enthusiasm, their eyes downcast even as they performed feats of strength that would have been celebrated in my old world. The varnaks were coordinated, moving in perfect sync with the mages. It was strange to see these creatures, who would normally be cast as brutes or villains in stories, treated like common laborers.

Overseeing it all was a stout figure that I initially mistook for a child. But as I looked closer, I realized it was a dwarf. He looked straight outta LOTR. A magnificent beard nearly reaching his waist complemented his broad shoulders and barrel chest. His weathered face and bulging arms displayed his strength. He was barking instructions at the workers. Despite his size, he commanded respect. His booming voice echoed through the construction site, directing both workers and varnaks alike with precision and authority. The workers seemed to treat him equal to the mages.

But the ultimate master of the construction site looked to be human. He seemed to be the overseer of the construction. He ordered everyone around as he seemed fit. Even the dwarf and the mages seemed to defer to him. He was dressed in a bright red suit adorned with golden embroidery, occasionally glancing over at the workers with a mixture of disdain and boredom.

Another thing that caught my eye were the black circular rings around the varnaks’ and the dwarf’s necks. The rings had golden patterns running across them. I couldn’t see anyone else around me wearing those things so I was confused about why they were wearing them.

Maybe it’s a custom for otherworldly races? Or maybe something worse? Something to keep them in check?

I lingered a moment longer, fascinated by the work of the fantastical races and the magic at play. But as much as I wanted to stay and watch, I couldn’t spend my entire day watching them. So, I turned and made my way deeper into the city.