I’m dirty, I have multiple small scratches on my skin, I’m physically exhausted enough that I can barely walk, I think my feet are bleeding from bursted blisters, but I made it to civilization.

A really basic civilization, just a small village surrounded by a wall of crude stone, the home of strange, slightly scary, humanoids with horns and sharp claws, but I’ll take it.

The guard nods to my escort and motions us in after his eyes glow in a soft blue light for a second. Seriously, what is up with all the glowing eyes? Is it a normal manifestation of magic?

Don’t be jealous, I’m sure we’ll soon be able to do our best impression of a lamppost too.

This brings a slight smile to my lips as I try to both take a look around the village and not stumble on the uneven ground while my guide heartlessly moves forward.

The first thing that hit my senses is the smell. I’m not sure why but when I saw the rough walls, I was anticipating the place to smell bad. Instead, the whole village seems to be decently clean, there’s no waste in the streets and there’s a nice smell of meat floating around, like someone is hosting a huge barbecue.

Next, I’m surprised at how the houses are built, they look a bit like huge wells covered by igloos of mud. The walls are somewhere between 50 and 75 cm of rock and mortar in a large circle that smoothly transitions into white domes of dried mud. The various openings are covered with rough pieces of cloth and I quickly realize the houses are partially buried, meaning they must be much taller in the inside than they appear from outside. This also explains why the pathways in between the houses are so uneven: they are sloped so that water moves away from the entrances whenever it rains.

Most houses are releasing some smoke from a small opening at the top of the dome that serve as their roof, but I notice two much thicker streams of smoke are coming from places out of my field of vision, I wonder what’s going on over there. Curiously, one is quite dark while the other is white smoke.

The village is relatively quiet, people must be busy, but those that notice me immediately stop their activity and start whispering to the people around them. A few pairs of eyes flash in a variety of colors as they stare at me. Some seem curious, some seem hostile, but apparently none is willing to move forward and properly greet me. Well, I guess I’ll do some staring of my own. Gilfeiths have quite a range of appearances, just like humans, some are shorter, taller, thinner or thicker. Although clearly, nobody is fat here. They have the same kind of hair as us and beards really seem to be a male thing. Actual hair length seem to be to each individual’s choice. Their skin colors ranging from a very light lilac, similar to Pheyis, all the way to red dark enough to be almost brown. There’s also enough variance for their horns and tails that I can’t see two people with the same combination. Horns can be straight, curved, in spiral, grooved, placed or pointing in different ways, some of them even have two pairs of horns instead of just the one. Meanwhile, their tails are more or less scaly, always reptilian but with different thicknesses. Some have variations of Pheyis’s harpoon-like tip, some have some spikes, others are completely smooth.

I suddenly notice a bunch of kids spying on me with very serious faces from side paths and I can’t help but smile a little. Eh. Kids are the same everywhere.

We’re soon in the center of the village, by the chief’s hut. It is slightly larger than the average house, and it has an actual door, apparently made of iron, complete with a frame and hinges. The village is perhaps a hundred meters across so even with my limping pace we made it here in a minute or so. In that short time, a little crowd of perhaps two dozen villagers and as many kids have come to observe.

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My guide softly knocks on the door.

…

He seems a bit embarrassed as there is no reaction and ask a question around, likely whether the chief is home or not.

I’m guessing “iau” means yes in their tongue because he knocks again, much harder, and this time there is an answer from inside to the metallic rings.

The chief’s voice is hoarse and tired. A couple seconds later he opens the door and his gaze almost instantly locks my way.

So far, all the gilfeiths I’ve seen looked fairly young, except perhaps Pheyis that I’m still unable to place. But this guy is clearly old. His purple skin looks thin somehow, like worn parchment. He has huge horns that start just above his eyes and follow the curve of his head all the way to end above his shoulders. Finally, he has that very specific, hunched over stance of old people who were once tall but have grown frail.

His eyes glow a warm, almost golden, yellow for a second and he starts speaking.

“Hello young one, welcome to Wathamber. Follow me inside, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Automatic translation active

Finally, somebody considerate.

But before I can thank him, my guard speaks up.

“Chief! You can’t stay alone with this stranger.”

“I can and will, thanks for bringing him here Zaralius.”

The dismissal is clear and the chief turns around in spite of how Zaralius would clearly like to argue more. I take the chance to speak up as I go down the stairs, doing my best not to look too smug.

“Thank you for your welcome sir. I’m Marc, Marc Rosel. May I ask your name?”

“Zervius Guemeros. Everybody calls me chief or Guemeros, I don’t mind much either way.”

He closes the door behind me and I realize how dark the place is. There's just some diffuse light coming from the top of the roof and the embers of a central fire. The light of his eyes flashing twice is all the more noticeable.

“Come over here, sit down by the fire pit. I’ve called Zaimeia over, she helps me with the administration of the village. Perhaps Pheyis will come along too, who knows. You’ve met her, I’m sure that must have been an interesting experience.”

I slowly make my way inside, as my eyes adapt to the low luminosity I can see that the floor is some kind of carpet and there are some large pillows on the ground around the central fire.

“That’s one way to put it, I’m still not sure what to think about her.”

Guemeros gives me a knowing nod as he adds some timber to the fire.

“She’s certainly unique. Oh, where are my manners. Can I offer you some food or a drink perhaps?”

Damn, this is awkward, I don’t know anything about their cultural rules. What am I supposed to say here?

“Please, that would be great. Also, keep in mind that I don’t know anything about gilfeith traditions, I have no idea how I’m supposed to behave right now.”

He blinks a couple times in surprise. Like he genuinely didn’t think that someone from another world would worry about different social norms.

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sure it’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” he says with a small wave of his hand, as if pushing the problem out of his mind.

Uggh, he doesn’t get it does he? And this guy is the leader of the village, the responsible one.

Oh, I think you’ve been doing great, don’t worry, you’re definitely not risking your future on a random social faux-pas.

Thanks for the support Bob, love it.