Trevor still felt some trepidation as he navigated through the town, but it wasn’t nearly as much as before. It felt like it was run of the mill stress from not being certain of where you were going than anything else. His talk with Klar had done him good and lessened his worry that people would inherently dislike him for being different. He began feeling more at ease in this new world.

Retrieving the map from his inventory space had been easier than the pickle debacle had led him to believe, and from there all that was required was simple navigation. It was a fairly straightforward path from the Summoner’s Tower, as it was marked on the map, to the Hero House.

As he walked through the town, not many people approached him though those he locked eyes with usually gave him slight bows. It was the same as nodding at people you sort of recognized at the store or on the street; polite, but nothing indicating that you should come over and speak with them. Trevor had no issues bowing back.

Jackson had said that this place was peaceful and idyllic, something to really be proud of, and Trevor found himself agreeing with that notion. No matter where he looked, nobody really struck him as being depressed.

Depression was, of course, a complex emotion that affected everyone differently. He didn’t really expect to look at the next elf and say this person is clearly sad, but everyone on the street seemed neutral at worst. In all honesty, it was starting to turn him a little paranoid. Like any second now he was going to turn the corner and see a group of armed guards looking for anyone who might not be as happy as can be.

Then he passed some actual guards, and was surprised to see that they were almost universally beloved. Walking past shops, people would come out to offer them food or drink. The group he spied first was a human and a dwarf, and they seemed to get along just fine with everyone.

The more he watched the people, the more Trevor found himself smiling, and he began to relax.

Since he had the map, he decided to take the scenic route and check out the river. It was only a few streets away, after all, and the sound of water had always soothed him.

He passed by several businesses catering to the hungry, and his nose twitched at each one, but he didn’t enter. That was bravery for another day, perhaps even as early as tomorrow, though the smell of fresh bread and unknown food made him waver even now. Regardless, he continued walking.

The river cut through the middle of the walled town and was wide enough to warrant bridges built to cross it. He saw none of the logs that drifted lazily through the water, but there were several people at the edge. Stone benches had been set beside it, and they seemed like popular spots to stop and eat.

The bridges, also made of stone, were nice to look at, and Trevor found himself admiring the structures as he took a seat at a bench near a dwarven family. They were a quiet bunch who were enjoying the river as they ate something that looked like bread around a ball of meat. It smelled delicious, but he forced himself to look at the bridges instead of staring.

Even though he could only see one up close, the bridges each seemed to have been built with a single piece of stone that stretched all the way from one embankment to the other. They were sturdy enough to hold wagons, but the majority of the traffic were people on foot. Without even realizing it, he began counting the amount of humans he saw.

He wasn’t sure how long he counted, but ultimately wagered a guess that at least sixty percent of the population had to be decidedly non-human. Trevor wasn’t sure what to do with this information other than store it away, but the process along with the sound of the river had calmed him into a peaceful state.

At least, until the peace was shattered.

Trevor threw up his arms as an earth-shaking roar caused the ground underneath him to tremble. Everyone paused as the ground quaked, and the young man looked around for places to flee. It stopped just as quickly as it came, and the people carried on their business like nothing had happened.

“Can’t believe it’s already five,” one of the dwarves said from the bench nearby. He flicked some crumbs off of his curly black beard and resumed his meal.

“It’s four, remember?” came a distinctly feminine voice from the other. Just like the first dwarf she had a thick black beard, though not nearly as curly, and stroked her fingers through it. “We’re trying that newfangled Daylight Savings thing from the Summoned.”

“Oi, that,” the male dwarf sighed. “It was worth giving a chance, I thinks, but I’m not sure I’ll vote to keep it. Glyrphizith roars at five, and that’s the way it’s always been.”

“I don’t mind it when it lets me sleep in for another hour,” the young dwarf chimed in through a mouthful of food. “But I don’ts like it when I gotta wake up early.”

The woman reached down and ruffled the child’s hair. “I hear you, loud and clear, Dag.”

Taking a breath and steeling his nerves, Trevor stood up. “Um, hello,” he said, waving when the dwarves looked his way. “Sorry to bother you, but, what was that?”

“Oi, you must be new in town, aren’cha?” the man asked.

“Yeah, only about an hour or so,” Trevor admitted.

“Well, bless your beard, come and have a seat with us,” the woman said, moving over so that there was room.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

When Trevor reached up to make sure he was as clean shaven as he remembered, the man let out a belly-deep chuckle. “That’s just a dwarven saying, son,” he explained. “Come on, then, join us.”

Nodding more to himself than them, Trevor took them up on their offer. He sat next to the woman and was immediately passed a spongy ball. It was warm to the touch and smelled of both fresh bread and hot meat.

“That’s my great-great-grandpa Polt’s recipe,” the woman said. “Go ahead and give it a taste, will you?”

Lifting the ball to his face, Trevor gave it one last sniff before gently taking a bite out of it. He bit deep enough to get the core, and an eruption of flavor hit his tongue all at once. The taste of freshly baked bread mixed with the well seasoned meat hidden within, and he couldn’t help but release a moan of pleasure. It was like eating a taco out of a bowl made from bread, and he quickly devoured the whole thing as quickly as he could.

“Mama said we shouldn’t eat like that,” the child chided.

“Oh hush, Dag, let the boy eat,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. Trevor looked horrified for a moment until he realized that the woman was pleased by his reaction. “Would you like another?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, please,” Trevor said quietly.

“Of course not, dear,” she replied happily, and handed him another one. He began eating this one like a normal person.

“Based on that tattoo of yours, Summoned, I’m guessing?” the man said, nodding towards Trevor’s arm. He looked and saw that his sleeve had fallen, revealing some of the ink in question.

“Oh, yes. I’m Trevor Anderson,” he greeted before performing the same bow he had before. “I arrived here… Earlier today. I’m not sure how long it’s been.”

“I’m Gad, this here’s my wife Froil, and our son Dag,” the man introduced, and all three of them bowed back. “Before I answer your question, I hope you’ll answer one of mine. Do you have that Daylight Savings thingie in your world, too?”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah, but most of us don’t like it either, Mr. Gad.”

“Then why drag us into it?” Gad asked, exasperated.

“Sorry, we kind of ruin everything, I think.”

“Oh, none of that, dear,” Froil said, patting him on the arm. “It’s not your fault. We tried something new, and that’s what matters. If enough people also think it’s a waste of time, then things’ll change back next cycle.”

“Oh, yes, sorry if you thought I was complaining about you,” Gad said quickly. “I’m just a firm believer that Glyrphizith should be roaring at five, and it’s strange when she don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Glirfezeth?” Trevor asked.

“No, Glyrphizith,” Dag said.

“Glyrphezith.”

“Glyrphizith,” he repeated.

Trevor frowned. “Glyr-phi-zith?”

“Yeah, you’ve got it,” Gad said. “It’s a dragon living in the Feywoods since long before the town of Tosa popped up. Doesn’t mean anyone harm. She's never shown up here except for a handful of times, and that was just to ask some of the tinkerers to fix up her clocks.”

“Her clocks?” Trevor asked, bemused.

“She collects them, dear,” Froil explained. “Every dragon has a thing, and Glyrphizith’s is clocks. No one must have told her about Daylight Savings, poor dear. Not that it matters, I suppose.”

“She, uh, must be big to make such a roar,” Trevor noted.

“Huge, but mostly harmless,” Gad said. “One of the first things that Jackson did was make a landing zone for her whenever she wanted to come by. Saw her just a few years ago, so it’ll probably be a while yet before she makes an appearance again.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad to hear it didn’t mean anything bad was going to happen,” Trevor said with no small amount of relief.

“Nope, just that it’s five o'clock on the dot,” Gad said before looking at his wife. “Four now, I suppose.”

“You best suppose, at least until you try to repeal it next cycle,” Froil said merrily. Then, she nudged Trevor. “That’s next year, by the by. Jackson has the people vote for what they want to see from the other worlds. I believe this suggestion was Wayne’s.”

“Wayne?” Trevor asked, perking up at a name that clearly sounded like it was from Earth.

“Why yes, dear, he’s from Earth, if memories serve me right.”

“But there’s lotsa Earths,” Dag said. “So that don’t mean much.”

“I’m from an Earth,” Trevor stated.

“That's nice, dear, and how are you liking Tosa?” Froil asked.

“It’s…” Pausing, Trevor stopped to think.

Coming to a new world had been a shock to him, but now that he was here it wasn’t unpleasant. There were a lot of things to learn, and a lot of cultures to worry about offending, but all in all the people seemed friendly and didn’t mind answering his questions. Whether it was the loud yet jovial Klar or the family of dwarves that shared their food with a stranger, it was a nice experience.

“I think I like it,” Trevor said after a few moments of thought.

Froil patted him on the shoulder before gathering up four more of the taco bread balls and tying them into a parcel with a small quilt. “Here, for the road. We’ve got to get a move on, but we’re here about the same time every day, so don’t be a stranger, Trevor Anderson.”

Finishing the ball already in his hand, Trevor took the makeshift bag and looked at it. A moment later it was in his inventory.

“Now how’d you do that?” Gad asked, clearly astonished. “Wordless magic?”

“No, I have the Power of Inventory, I guess,” Trevor said before retrieving the small quilt minus the taco balls inside. He offered it to Froil.

“That’s a neat trick.”

“Very handy,” Froil agreed, nodding as she took the quilt. The family stood up and bowed to Trevor, and he did the same. “I hope you enjoy your time in Tosa. Like I said, don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Gad repeated.

“I’ll try not to be,” Trevor said, smiling as he scratched the back of his head.

Despite Froil saying that they had to go, the dwarven family spent nearly five more minutes exchanging goodbyes and pleasantries with Trevor before Gad took the initiative and rushed off. His family followed.

The smile didn’t leave Trevor’s face as he looked out over the river. It rushed by without a care in the world, a lone log floating downstream beneath the bridges.

“Yeah, maybe this isn’t so bad,” he told himself, and his voice had a lot more conviction to it than he thought it would.