The echoey hiss of released steam, the blare of a train whistle, the sound of footfalls fading into silence—these were the string of noises that roused Thomas from his nap. As his eyes fluttered open, he was struck by the cold sensation of the misted-up window against his cheek. From his slumped position, he sat up and looked around, only to realise the coach had emptied. Stirred and panicked, the man slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried to the front of the carriage.

With a brisk stride, the man disembarked onto the platform, where he was arrested by the midday sun peeking through the glass roof arched high overhead. When his vision adjusted to the light, he bore witness to the architectural marvel that was Manforth Station, the core of Central Wenton's railways. Under the watchful gaze of the brass clock hanging from the steel girders, people from all walks of life bustled through the cavernous hall.

As far as introductions went, the scene that lay ahead was one-of-a-kind. Thomas wandered about, dazzled by the terminal's splendour. Unbeknownst to him, his exotic attire and well-built physique drew glances from commuters and porters alike. Ambling past bulletin boards and drab brick walls plastered with layers of faded posters, the man took in everything he could. To him, this was a completely new world.

"Extra! Extra! Rogue magi destroy factory in biggest terrorist attack to date! Read all about it!"

The headline loudly advertised by the newsboy along the exit captured Thomas' interest.

Curiosity piqued, he went up to the flat-capped crier. And spotting the large man closing in on him, the newspaper hawker piped down in awe of his stature and unusual clothing. Even from atop his soapbox, the newsboy, a halfling, had to strain his neck to meet Thomas' gaze. With his navy silken jacket, high band collar, ornamental gold buttons, low chestnut ponytail, and scruffy chin—it was hard not to stare at a jarringly out-of-place character.

"Uh, hey. Excuse me?" Thomas bent over and pointed at the paper the boy was holding, towering over him. "How much?"

"P-pardon?"

"I want to buy an issue. How much does one cost?"

"Oh... two alons, mister."

"Two alons, huh?" The man brought out a purse from his bag and rummaged through it. "Doesn't look like I have exact change. What a pain..."

"Um..."

"Oh well." Thomas placed a single gold coin onto the halfling's open hand. "Here you go."

"A goldie?!"

"Ah, is that not enough? Will another one do?"

"No, no, no, no... one gold piece affords you half my stock!"

"Is that so? I only really need one of these, though." The man leaned over to pick up a newspaper from the stack beside the newsboy. "Well, whatever. You can keep it. Thank you!"

Stunned, the halfling gawked as Thomas sauntered away. Feeling the cool weight of the coin against his palm, the boy was compelled to call out to the charitable stranger. "Oi, mister!"

The man swung around, steps away from the archway leading outside. "Hm?"

"You need a guide? If you're headed somewhere, I know a few shortcuts that could save you some time."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother..."

"It's the least I can do to give you your money's worth. Consider it a due service."

"In that case... I'll take you up on your offer."

Receiving the go-ahead, the halfling waved at his colleague on the opposite end of the station. "Oi, Jack! Get your arse over here!"

Another newsboy carrying reams of paper came scuttling over. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Watch the goods for me while I'm gone, will you? I'll be showing this bloke around for a bit."

"Righty-ho..."

"Now then," the newsie invited the man with a smirk, "shall we get going?"

Thomas nodded and followed him through the exit tunnel. Descending a long flight of stairs, the pair found themselves by a tree-fringed thoroughfare, a cobbled boulevard populated by the whir of automobiles and the footsteps of pedestrians. Tightly packed buildings, their brick facades and mullioned windows a hallmark of the industrial age, lined the stone sidewalks alongside clusters of bronze-tinged shrubbery bordered by wrought-iron fences.

Trampled leaves littered the ground, heralding the dawn of autumn, yet the air was warm as though it were the height of summer. Grey, overcast skies, the otherwise usual backdrop for Wenton's residents, were a bizarre feature of the region to Thomas, who'd spent most of his life under unblemished stretches of blue. And the midday breeze brushed against him, tainted by the stench of exhaust and causing him to scrunch his nose up.

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"So, have a destination in mind?" the halfling asked the man, interrupting his thoughts.

"Ah, right," Thomas reached into his bag and yanked out a creased note. "I'm meeting up with someone at a place called Kobold's Nook."

"Oh, Candy's joint?" the newsboy stood on tiptoe to look at the piece of paper. "That's just a few blocks away. Normally, you'd have to go to the edge of the complex and round the bend since the roads are clogged with marchers, but I know a route that can get us there before sunset."

"Really? That's a relief!"

"Just stay close and be on the lookout while we go over the thoroughfare. Those horseless carriages have taken many lives as of late. Heard they're faster than racing steeds now."

"L-lead the way, then."

Treading on the heels of the halfling, Thomas crossed the road; his eyes stayed peeled for any runaway vehicles. The two then left the hubbub of the street and entered an unassuming alley partially obscured by a thicket of bushes. As they cautiously manoeuvred through the narrow, box-cluttered passageway beneath bands of hung clothes and unkindled lamps, the boy took this opportunity to learn more about his peculiar client. "So, where do you hail from, mister?"

"Linxuei. It's a tiny country on the eastern end of the main continent."

"That's the land of the catfolk, ain't it? How'd a human like you end up there?"

"It's a... long story."

"And what brings you so far from home?"

"Business. Not too sure on the details, though."

"Well, word to the wise: never flaunt your gold in Wenton. Don't know how things work across the pond, but rich foreigners like you make an ideal mark for swindlers and the like."

"I-I'll remember to do that."

"Also, don't be so quick to trust the natives. This place is a den of iniquity, home to low lives and cheats. If you lack any sense of self-preservation, you'll end up dead in a ditch with a knife in your back. As a matter of fact, blindly agreeing to follow me into this sequestered alleyway wasn't very smart of you. You ought to be wary when dealing with people you don't know."

"Come now, you're making it sound like you plan to rob me..."

"Heh, you're lucky I'm out of that life. Would much rather live honestly off wages. Besides," the halfling peeked over his shoulder at him, "even if I did have you in my crosshairs, I'd think twice about picking on somebody your size. An ogre would hesitate trading blows with you."

Thomas laughed at his remark. "There's no way that's true..!"

Stepping out of the shadows onto a quiet backstreet, the newsboy turned to Thomas, arms akimbo. "My point is, standing out as much as you do is bound to attract unwanted attention. Just keep a low profile, and you'll get along fine. I'd hate to see another soul claimed by the city."

"I appreciate the concern. I'll try to be more careful next time."

"You'd better. You still have that starry-eyed look about you, so I have my doubts," the halfling bumped Thomas with his elbow. "Well, anyways, this is as far as I go."

"Huh?"

With a tilt of his head, the boy directed him toward the quaint timbre-framed house nestled betwixt two apartment buildings on the other side of the road. "See that cottage over there? That's Kobold's Nook. Unimpressive, I know. Whoever chose this spot as a rendezvous either wanted someplace real private or has some... outlandish preferences."

"Meaning?"

"Eh, never mind. Good luck with whatever it is you set out to do here, mister," the halfling gave Thomas a light pat on the back and went on his merry way. "Ah, I nearly forgot..."

"Yeah?"

Pivoting on his heel to face him, the newsboy tipped his cap. "Welcome to Wenton!"

And the man winked at him. "Thanks!"

When his accommodating guide disappeared back into the darkness of the alleyway, Thomas approached the eatery. He took note of the distinct lack of cars around—not one automobile parked on the curb. Instead, spaced throughout the lane were carriages: horses hitched to rails, pawing the sidewalk with chipped hooves. Under cover of the establishment's striped red awning, the man walked up the porch to a rustic door and clutched its squeaky handle.

The instant it swung inward, a melodic chime rang out, turning the heads of the patrons inside. And the unfamiliar company by the entrance brought the room's high spirits to a hush. An uninviting mood consumed the place, one that Thomas was blissfully unaware of. Silently, the regulars eyed the man as he settled at an unoccupied table tucked away in the corner. Seated comfortably, oblivious to the glares, the man let the restaurant's cosy decor soak in.

Air thick with the sweet aroma of aged wood, hearth inhabited by dancing flames, walls adorned with old paintings and banners—traces of the modern era were practically nonexistent here. Floorboards creaked as a saurian waitress in a maid uniform strutted up to him, her elegant frilly-hemmed frock and snow-white apron accommodating the scaly olive-green tail jutting out from her lower back. She messily set the menu against the tablecloth and cleared her throat.

"Uh, just holler when you're ready to order," the lizardly girl said, tone flat and disinterested. "Our special of the day is the Jellied Hydra. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"Just a second, I have a question."

Halted as she was leaving, the waitress clicked her forked tongue. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if a well-dressed goblin came by recently?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I don't really keep track of everyone who wanders through that door. Your best bet is to ask Mama Candy—the owner. Should I call her over?"

"N-no, that's fine. I'd rather not disturb her."

"Suit yourself. So, is that all you wanted?"

"One more thing."

"What?"

Thomas handed her the bill of fare and gave a sincere smile. "I'd like one of everything, please."

The lizard girl blinked at the man with slitted, blank, amber-toned eyes. "Come again?"

"I haven't grabbed anything to bite since I arrived here; I'm absolutely starved!"

"That's not the issue here..."

"Ah, if some items aren't available, that's okay. I'll take whatever's in stock."

"Can you even afford what you're asking for?"

With a hefty thunk, Thomas dropped a fat pouch of gold in front of her. "I don't know the exact payment I owe, but this should cover everything, right?"