The road was long and hard. The horses were barely moving out of fatigue and thirst. The blistering heat of the sun had made the bushes and tree branches brittle and with every rub of the carriage against them, they showered it with a rain of wood chips. It seemed that the drought has affected a way larger territory than they initially thought. Still, there was hope to be found in the Whitewillow.

That was the name of the town they were heading towards. It was pretty small, housing merely 500 something people, but it was the closest one to Leslie's village. His father helped him pack a rather small bag consisting of his belongings and some provision and sent him on his way with his neighbor, who was trying to buy some food and water from the town and was on his way. Father has also given Leslie a letter that he had to deliver to the old man Johnson. That was the name of the man who was supposed to take Leslie in.

Father didn't tell Leslie much of him, only that the man was an old friend of his, and he worked as a shoemaker. Working under him was supposed to give Leslie a some kind of start in life and ability to feed himself. He lived somewhere at the outer edge of town, close to the entrance. Leslie has never been out of his village before, so he was curious about how do towns in this world look like.

The drought was so bad that even the ever-present slimes have migrated to other regions, being creatures dependent on liquid. All that was left were some rabbits here and there and other small critters like that. The neighbour at the front bench put on his straw hat and fell asleep almost as soon as they started, so Leslie had no one to talk to, and was bored out of his mind. It was only him and the yellowish landscape around the carriage. Since the beginning of the journey, they haven't met a single sentient soul on this road. Until, finally, something white started glimmering ahead.

Remembering the neighbour's instructions, Leslie quickly shook him.

- Hey! Mister! I think we've arrived!

- My name is Chase, kid. - uttered the man, unhappy with sudden awakening and, making crackling noises, slowly straightened himself in the seat.

The town was slowly getting closer. What Leslie has first noticed glimmering, were town's whitened stone walls. The sun shone so bright, the light reflected by the white stones almost seemed as glimmering. The wall wasn't very high, and there was no reason for it to be. The places around here were safe. The build was simple, with a small fence with teeth above to cover the archers, if need be for them. As far as Leslie could see, the walls didn't have a correct, rectangular shape, but rather were built chaotically, around however the town buildings were placed. The gate was made of wooden logs and built quite simply. It was wide open currently, and at the each side of the gate, there was a guard, watching over the traffic. Currently, there were none, so the poor men were just leaning onto the gate doors and trying to not die from the heat.

The carriage has arrived at the gate.

- Stop!.. Ah, it's you, old fart. Come on in then. Make sure to stock up on water, the Greenburg authorities made sure to send it here in barrels, so we all don't kick the bucket. I'm honestly surprised how did you even make it here. - barked one of the guards.

- And good day to you too! - Chase smiled wryly. - Is the entrance toll the same as usual?

- Yeah, 15 copper, as usual. Honestly, the governor wanted to raise the fee due to the drought, but someone has convinced him that people would be mad, and it ain't worth it anyway, sooo... yeah.

- Aight, here's your fee. And for the kid as well. You have a good one!

- Yee.. you too!

As they rode through the gate, Leslie observed the guards with curiosity. They both were big men, dressed in regular iron plate armor and armed with regular swords and spears. Well, that was to be expected. With guards returning him no less a curious look, the carriage has entered the town.

***

The town of Whitewillow was... humble-built, if put softly. The buildings were made of white bricks, but they were old and rarely seen any repairs, it seemed. Bars of wood, on which flat roofs of buildings held, were sticking out of the whitened walls. There was almost none classic glass windows, but a lot of them were covered with rustic wooden covers, seemingly to protect the glass from occasional ball or something. Most of the buildings were two-store high, with occasional one-store here and three-store there. It gave off some kind of a mix between an arabic and western movies vibe.

There were plenty of people walking here and there, going on their business. Kids were playing around, throwing balls and chasing each other. The sides of the street had a bunch of small kiosks and shops mixed in with regular housings with only the wooden signs discerning them from the latter ones. This wasn't the main street. To be honest, there wasn't such thing as the main street, there was only a paved road that went in a square around the center of the town with two branches of it connected to the only two gates of the town. There was also a bunch of small ways and alleys that went through groups of building, which were, probably, the most used type of walkways in the town. Overall, the planning was chaotic and the circular road was the only semblance of order in this place.

Leslie was still turning his head around, trying to see as much of the town as possible, when the carriage stopped.

- Get up, kid, we've arrived. At least I think, that's the place. - Chase scratched his head under the hat and pointed Leslie towards a two-story building that was just as old and disrepaired as any other in this town, with a cracked wooden sign that proclaimed "Johnson's Shoes" hanging dangerously low over the door.

Leslie cautiosly climbed off the carriage and thanked him for the trouble.

- Nevermind, kid. Your family are pretty darn good people, it is only my pleasure to do that. Now, only one thing that I have to tell you: watch out for them town folks. They not like us, village folks. Understand?

- Uh-huh - , Leslie slowly nodded and the carriage slowly rolled away through the crowded street.

Leslie turned towards the door with cautious look in his eyes, took a deep breath and knocked twice.

***

Old Johnson turned out to be a pretty nasty person, to be honest. Grumpy, and greedy as well. Leslie still remembered how the hairy old man opened the door, shouting "Who the hell is tryna ruin my afternoon nap?" with a bottle of rum in his hand. Having read the letter, he looked at him from under his forehead and just asked "Leslie, huh?" and invited him in.

Insides of the house were even worse than the outsides, it was cluttered and a ton of things were broken, most likely due to the old man's frequent crashouts. The walls had cracks in them and you could see the planks under the surface. There were various spots over the entire place, hit marks, empty bottles and such and such. Almost every window shutter had cracks in it, and some planks were simply missing. Some of the furniture was broken as well. The entire collection of old Johnson's things were pushed to the sides of the room, with some space in the middle and his worktable and couch in the center. Guess that's where he made his shoes.

Leslie gulped, once he saw that. Even though his own family was quite poor, they always kept things tidy... this, on the other hand... didn't promise anything good. Old man quickly showed him the first floor, consisting of one big room and the stairs to the second floor, which was even more cluttered and was looking more like a garbage dump than an actual living room. There was an entire freaking mountain of all kinds of broken furniture, tools, shoes, and whatever. The old man has shown Leslie his sleeping place, which was some kind of box with a semblance of a mattress stuck in it. Most likely, it was some kind of a pet bed in the past, a dog or something. Well, now that was where Leslie slept.

- You don't mean...

- Yeah that's exactly what I mean, boi! Now leave your belongings here and get yo ass back down so I can teach you how to do your job properly!

Leslie shook his head in disbelief and headed back to the first floor. He was in for an another rough period in life. There was only one good thing about having to sleep in that place: walls and windows were not so damaged, so it was possible to sleep without wind streams constantly disturbing him. He could feel these damn things all around on the first floor, from all the cracks.

After old Johnson has taught Leslie a bit of basics on making shoes, it was evening already, so he let him go for his night's sleep. Having tucked himself in the box that indeed, smelt of some mutt, and covered with a bedsheet, Leslie contemplated his life for a while, and, after some time, went to sleep as well. After all, it was only his first day here, things could've been way better than he perceived them right now.

***

Days slowly went by. Then weeks. Soon, it was about to be Leslie's second month in the town. Over time, he has slowly learned how to make and repair shoes. He wasn't very good at it, but not too bad either. Old man Johnson was paying him for his work, but, to be honest, that was merely a pittance. 75 copper a day. That would measure for a singular meal that is barely better than just bread and water. If not for old Johnson himself providing him with food, he would have starved already long ago. Half of his wage he gave back to the man, for him to send it back to his parents, and the remaining half he stored so that he could buy himself a new set of clothes one day. His old fit was made of sackcloth, like of any poor villager out there, and it was slowly wearing out, so Leslie wanted to get something new and more comfy.

Other than working with shoes, Leslie liked to explore the town in his free time. Over these two months, he has been in each and every alley there was in the Whitewillow. He didn't know all the people or places, but some were obvious for what they were, and some of them became his favorite. For example, he liked to sit in front of the tavern in the evenings, watching people come in and out of it and listening to the conversations. If he was lucky, sometimes, he saw adventurers in their shiny gear walking in and out of it. His another favorite place was the town's forge. He was deeply interested in this world's fancy stuff that was related to magical and unusual weapons and gear. Not that he wanted anything to do with it, but still, it was interesting af.

That's when he started noticing some subtle parallels between this world and something from his previous world. He couldn't quite put a finger on what that was exactly, but something in names of some monsters and weapons, as well as materials mentioned in the conversations, sounded... very familiar. Leslie has tried to focus on this fleeting feeling, but the only thing he achieved from it was a headache, so after trying enough times, he wrote it off as some kind of a consequence of the transition between worlds and gave up on trying to remember it.

Still, he was kind of getting used to life in the Whitewillow. Even though he was paid very little, and it was not the first time old Johnson has beaten him drunkenly, he still had hope to learn this craft good enough with time and leave this place forever in the future and go on his own life. He just had to endure it for a while. He believed he only needed a year with something to learn enough to be able to go somewhere else. He could wait. Life actually wasn't that bad.

Those were his thoughts until one day.

***

Old man Johnson woke him up with a violent beating.

- Wake up, little shit!

He heavily shook Leslie, who was still barely awake.

- Wake! The fuck! Up!

Leslie has finally opened his eyes and asked:

- What... what is the problem?

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He took a look around and didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

- Where's the damn shoes? - , the man shouted at him.

- What... shoes? - Leslie stared at him in confusion.

- The ones you stole, fucker! -, Johnson yelled in his face.

- The... what?! - Leslie felt even more confused.

- Let me show you then! - the angry man dragged Leslie out of bed and down the stairs. - Look at this! - he pointed towards the shoe pile that was usually put up for sale every day.

Leslie took an attentive look at it. He still couldn't understand anything at first. He turned back to Johnson and asked in confusion:

- I don't see anything, what's the deal?

- Oh, you don't see anything, do you? Look at this, you blind mole, you fucking thief, don't you see anything missing?

Leslie took another look at the pile, rummaged through it quickly, and turned back towards Johnson:

- Some shoes are missing!

- That's right, you dumbass, and not just any shoes, of all them you stole the best ones! You could've at least make it less obvious, you fucking rat!

- But I didn't steal it! - Leslie shook his head.

- Yeah, whatever, whatever, you all say so! Now you better have all of that back by evening, or I'll call the guard on you! And don't you dare come back without them! - with these words, old man Johnson kicked Leslie out of the house and slammed the door behind him.

Leslie stood there for a while, still in disbelief that that happened just like that. Once he finally awoke and understood his situation, he dropped to his knees and broke down crying.

There he was, a twelve years old kid in a sackloth, with brown hair and green eyes, crying again over how his life falls apart every time he barely adapts to it. It was the same shit as in his previous life: whenever he started to feel ok with the situation, however bad it was, it became even worse. Gasping for air, Leslie thought: "What if I finally begin to push back instead of just enduring shit? But how? What the fuck do I even do?"

That's when this smaller kid he never talked to before approached him.

- Hey... You that guy who worked in the shoemaker's?

Having wiped his tears, Leslie asked coldly:

- Yeah... What's up with that?

- Guys told me to bring you, follow me please.

A bit confused but having certain suspicions, Leslie nervously followed.

The place where the kid led him to was the dead end at one of the sides of the town hall. That was a tall three-story building made of white bricks and covered in something akin to drywall. The entrance to the hall was on the second floor, so the sides of the first floor were common meeting places for all kinds of people. Overall, the area around the town hall was a huge gathering of market stalls, covered by huge sheets of cloth, somewhere supported by market stalls, and somewhere - by brick walls between groups of them. The market stalls were largely vacant. Leslie knew that the only time this area got really busy was on holidays or during festivals, or - when a trading caravan came to town, but that wasn't the case today, so the place was hella empty.

What awaited him there was a group of other kids of different ages, all of them boys, most of them round Leslie's age, but some were older. All of them with that smug smirk on their faces, that screamed "I fucked you up and you cannot do anything about it".

- So you're the guy who works at shoemaker's? - the biggest kid asked. Dressed in clothes made of fine linen, he was probably from some rich family. With curly hair, small eyes and fat nose, he looked rather ugly and agressive. His fat belly was almost hanging off of his belt. Another thing that was hanging off of his belt was a small dagger, probably a gift from his daddy or something.

- What if I do? - Leslie asked grimly.

- Whoa whoa, show some respect to big Tom! - one of the smaller kids yelled at him.

- That's right, show some respect, villager, - smirked the big Tom smugly, - do you know why I called you here?

- I... can guess. It's something related to the shoes you guys stole, isn't it?

- Good, you're an understanding one. I thought you'd be stupid. Now, do you want your shoes back?

- What, of course I want them back, where are they? - Leslie frowned and started approaching the guy quickly.

The entire crowd giggled.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, stay right there, what's with the fuss? - he felt the dagger press against his chest swiftly. - I have something for you to do... THEN you'll get your stupid shoes back!

- What is it? - Leslie frowned even more, but asked, since there were no other alternatives.

- Just bring us whatever you have earned from the old Johnson and we'll return you them shoes - Tom grinned smugly.

- What?! What else, should I also give you my clothes? Are you out of your mind? Why would I do that? What's the point of me working then?! - Leslie was outraged.

- Nah, your clothes are ugly and stinky. And you would probably have to do that if you want the old man to take you back in. As for why you would work, I simply don't care. Bring me them coins and you'll be able to live there on. For a while. Until we need anything else from you, villager. - calmly replied the big kid.

- Even if I wanted to do that, the old man won't even let me in to take the money, just give me the shoes! - Leslie started rummaging through the nearby boxes.

- As I already said, I don't care, find a way... - the big kid grinned again. - ... and also who ALLOWED you to sniff over here like it's your place? - heavy hit landed on the back of Leslie's head, while he was looking into another box. Blows started raining and Leslie didn't remember anything about what happened next.

***

Leslie came to his senses in front of the old Johnson's house. Everything hurted. Leslie deeply inhaled and started crying again. This was the same shit he had to deal with back on Earth as a kid. He thought he has forgotten it already after all the years, but it seems, being a kid again not only made him more emotional but also triggered his repressed memories. Being alone against many really sucked. And it was the others that were "always right", too.

Ruminating over the events of his previous life, he remembered a realisation that came to him one way too late in life: that he actually could've used anything against the bullies all along, it's just that he was afraid that everyone would judge him. But that actually never mattered. Even if everyone would judge and condemn him for it, after enough damage and pain, bullies would absolutely fuck off and let him live peacefully. It was way too late to use this advice in his previous life, but guess he still could use it here. Letting things slide and submitting to people has never worked in his favor,

"I guess, this time, I could try a different approach.", thought Leslie. "I am no longer THIS CLOSE from snapping, I have ALREADY snapped."

With these words, he wiped his tears, got up and tried to come up with a way to get back at them bastards, who, in his head, he has already denied all human rights.

Looking around at things, his gaze fell upon the series of scaffoldings that the old Johnson used to repair his outer walls on weekends, with all the extra money he started making since Leslie's arrival. They were laden with piles of bricks and buckets of cement, or whatever that was that he used to fill in the holes and cracks. The entire structure appeared pretty wobbly, and that gave Leslie some thoughts. The success of the idea wasn't guaranteed, but he was done with doubting. Either he wins, or he loses, but he wasn't going to humiliate himself like this.

"Know the enemy, know yourself; your victory will never be endangered. Know the ground, know the weather; your victory will then be total. Sun Tzu." - he muttered to himself while sawing away tiny bits of the vertical poles that the scaffolding held upon. He didn't saw them in two completely, but he left just enough for them to be snapped easily if need be. After that, he tied a rope to the several points where poles were sawed and hid the free end of the rope at Johnson's backdoor.

Now let me tell you some more about the arrangement of the house. The shop window was located at the front, as well as the front door. However, to the right side of it, there was some kind of an alley, with a city wall across it, that was the side where the scaffolding and the backdoor were located. Having prepared everything, Leslie took a spare mallet that was just lying around on the scaffoling, hid it under the small semblance of a belt that he had, and headed out to the gathering spot of the gang. But before he went, he prepared one more little thing.

***

Later that day, a twelve year old kid with brown hair and green eyes dressed in sackloth has showed up to one of the dead ends at the base of the town hall, carrying a small pouch made of linen. He stood there, holding the pouch out in the extended hand so that everyone around could see it. He seemed to be waiting for something.

And indeed, some time later, a bit older and taller kid has left the rows of bazaar stalls and approached him.

- Show what you got! - Tom's goon hastily snatched the pouch from Leslie's hand and unraveled it quickly.

What was inside, to his disappointment and frustration, wasn't a bunch of coins, but a bunch of words written with a coal in some unknown language.

- The fuck is this? - demanded the goon shoving the cloth into Leslie's face.

- It says... - began Leslie while stealthily reaching for the mallet. - ...I SIMP FOR NOBARA, BITCH! - he finished while the mallet finally met goon's nuts.

- HEY! THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! - the rest of the gang was obviously observing the exchange from the hiding, and quickly spilled out from the stalls like a pack of rats.

- Tee-hee, - giggled Leslie as he kicked the already squealing goon a few more times and ran away.

The chase ensued.

After a quick run through the streets of the town, that was not so big to begin with, they finally ended up in the alley behind the Johnson's home and, meeting the dead end, Leslie has finally turned towards the goons. They were just standing there for a while, yelling profanities at him, until the big Tom caught up with everyone, breathing heavily. The underage bandit leader looked at him with fury in his eyes.

- You... fucking redneck... you won't get away with this... there is no one in this city to stand up for you... we will turn your life into hell... starting now! - he yelled, while rushing in, the rest of the gang following him.

- Aaand that's precisely what I waited for. - smirked Leslie as he yanked the rope that he previously hid under the stairs, trying to make all traces of his little trick unnoticeable.

Then there was a lot of crashing, screaming and shouting, as well as a major dust cloud that covered almost the entire alley.

- What the hell is going on?! - yelled the old Johnson while trying to open the back door. It took him some time to squeeze through as some poles fell that way and lodged themselves in the wall. - Did you do it, little rat?! - he fumed as he was about to deliver Leslie another punch.

- No, look at them, they're the ones who stole the shoes! - Leslie screamed at the top of his lungs.

Old Johnson looked over the mess and noticed the goons slowly crawling from under the rubble.

- You... hey, isn't that little Tom, the son of the merchants' head? What the fuck did you just do, brat?! - he turned towards Leslie in anger again.

- No, it was them who stole the shoes!

- Why the fuck would a rich kid stole some fucking shoes, brat?!

- Why the fuck would I know?! - Leslie finally snapped.

- You... you don't talk to me like that! - old Johnson started reaching out for something to hit him with, but it was at that moment that goons started to try and fuel the situation.

- Yes, that's right, it was him who sold us shoes...

- What?! - Leslie couldn't believe his own ears for hearing such a blatant lie.

- Yes, he said there's more where that came from and brought us here...

- We couldn't know that he wanted to kill us to hide the traces...

- He's insane! This redneck villager boy is insane!

- Yeah, he's a maniac!

Leslie just stood there, listening to this shower of slanders coming his way. They were many... and he was alone. They were kids from established families and he was an alien in this town. From his previous life experience, he knew that he couldn't do anything in this situation, just take the blame and the undeserved consequences that came from it. Or... could he?

- SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SPILL THE FUCKING BEANS, BITCH NINJA! IT WAS FUCKING YOU WHO STOLE THE SHIT, BITCH NINJA! TELL IT OR I FUCKING SWEAR I'M GONNA CRACK YOUR FUCKING SKULL OPEN! I DON'T CARE HOW FUCKING STUPID YOU ARE, TELL IT NOW OR I SWEAR YOUR BRAINS WILL SEE THE LIGHT OF THE SUN THIS FUCKING INSTANT! SHOW WHERE YOU HID THEM SHOES, BITCH NINJA OR THIS MALLET IS GONNA BE STUCK IN YOUR HEAD LIKE IN A CAN OF SOUP, DON'T TRY ME, BITCH NINJA!!!

Leslie was sitting on the top of the big Tom threatening him with a mallet, hitting him with the back of the handle and screaming in his face. Old Johnson initially rushed to get Leslie away, but something inside, maybe curiosity, stopped him, so he just stood there, watching the scene unravel. Tom initially tried to get him off or fight back, to yell back but Leslie was holding on for his dear life, and the longer it went, the less resolve was in the eyes of the merchant's son, and the fear was growing instead.

- I DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO ME! OR ABOUT YOUR FUCKING DADDY!!! YES THEY MIGHT KILL ME IN RETURN BUT YOU WOULD BE DEAD FIRST, BITCH NINJA! TELL ME WHERE YOU HID THEM RIGHT NOW OR I'M GONNA KILL YOU RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW!!! I'M GONNA SMEAR YOUR FUCKING BRAIN OVER THIS ENTIRE FUCKING PLACE, BITCH NINJA!!!

The crashout rant was suddenly interrupted by a pouring liquid sound. The big Tom, the son of the head of town's merchants, the wannabe gang leader, has pissed himself. While doing this, he proceeded to tell the whereabouts of stolen goods. Old Johnson was quick and, since the place was not that far away, in two minutes, he returned with the lost shoes, whistling smugly.

- You... you will not get away with this! - the former bully told him when finally got out from under the rubble. Then he walked away, fuming. The rest of the gang was silent and just threw Leslie quick glances, filled with fear. Having pulled out the few members who have lost their consciousness, they left.

Looking at the mess he has created, at blood spots, at pieces of clothing that were torn away in the process of Tom's gang freeing themselves out from under the rubble, and the still hanging dust cloud, Leslie smirked.

"This... feels good."