As we made our way back through the cave system, I couldn't help but notice something that had been nagging at me since I arrived in this world. Back at the guild, everyone had been human. Every single person—the receptionist, the quest-givers, the other adventurers, even the bartender. Not like other fantasy stories, not all of them but...
[System Notice: There you go again.]
Sigh.
"Hey, Lyralei," I said as we emerged into daylight. "Quick question about local demographics. Is there a reason the guild hall was one hundred percent humans? Like, are there restrictions on who can be adventurers, or...?"
Her expression darkened slightly. "Well in these parts, there used to be only elves and beast people. Before humans came and established their settlement and enslaved the beast people. They lacked water though, which was in our territory, and our queen refused to let them use our resources for free, and that's when it all begun. And we like doing our things the traditional ways, not the humans way."
"Traditional ways meaning...?"
"Clan warfare, blood feuds, ritual combat, that sort of thing. More direct. Less paperwork."
"You know a lot about humans."
"Well I travel a lot."
"So the different races basically hate each other."
"'Hate' is such a strong word," she said diplomatically. "We prefer 'maintain centuries-old grudges based on historical grievances that no one alive today actually remembers the details of.' And it's just for elves and humans here, not in other places."
"Right. That's much better."
"Your dragon is cute, are you sure about keeping it for long."
Sassy chirped from my shoulder, and I realized she'd been unusually quiet during the whole conversation. When I looked at her, she was staring at Lyralei with the kind of focused attention that usually preceded either friendship or territorial violence.
"What do you think, kid?" I asked her. "Should we trust the nice elf lady?"
Sassy considered this question seriously, then breathed a tiny puff of smoke that somehow conveyed cautious approval.
"Good enough for me," I said. "Alright, Lyralei Moonwhisper, daughter of the Silverleaf Clan. Let's go deal with your wedgie dragon."
[System Notice: Next chapter will definitely include detailed descriptions of the city's racial demographics and street layout. The author promises this isn't just procrastination disguised as world-building.]
"Could you stop doing that?" I asked the floating text.
[Doing what?]
"Breaking the fourth wall to make promises about future content. It's weird."
[Fine, but only if you promise to actually follow through on the demographic exposition instead of just making jokes about it.]
"Deal."
As we headed back toward the city, I found myself genuinely curious about what we'd find. If the guild was any indication, this world's racial politics were going to be a lot more complicated than the usual "humans good, orcs bad" setup.
And something told me that our little diplomatic mission to deal with a dragon who specialized in wedgie-based psychological warfare was about to get very interesting very quickly.
"But isn't this just half the words for a one thousands word chapter".
[Oops, guess we will just have to continue it here, haha].
***
The way we took for the walk back to the city gave me my first real chance to observe the local demographics in detail. And wow, was it exactly what you'd expect from a fantasy world written by someone who'd never actually thought about the implications of multiple sentient species living in the same general area.
[Heey... this is my first isekai novel...]
The city streets were... segregated. Not officially, probably, but in that very obvious way where everyone just "happened" to cluster with their own kind. The main thoroughfares were dominated by humans—merchants, guards, craftsmen, all going about their business with the comfortable confidence of people who owned the place.
But in the side alleys and smaller streets, you could spot the others. A few beast-people, mostly canine or feline variants, working menial jobs or sitting in corners with that particular defeated posture that screamed "economic desperation." Some had collars—actual collars—which was either a fashion statement or exactly what it looked like. Given the way humans looked at them, I was betting on the latter.
The way people stared at Lyralei was fascinating in a deeply uncomfortable way. It was like watching someone walk a exotic pet through a small town—part curiosity, part suspicion, and a lot of barely concealed hostility. Conversations stopped when we passed. Children pointed until their parents yanked their hands down. I caught at least three people making what were probably warding gestures.
"You know," I said to Lyralei, "this reminds me of something. You ever see what happens when someone obviously foreign shows up in a really isolated rural community? Like, someone who clearly doesn't belong there?"
"I imagine it's similar to this," she said, maintaining her dignified composure despite the stares.
"Yeah, except usually those people don't have pointy ears and a reputation for living in magical forests. You're basically walking cultural anxiety."
[You think beast people are much normal than eleves?!]
I was tempted to ask our invisible author if we should take a dig at certain webnovel writers who seemed to have a thing about making every dark-skinned character either a villain or comic relief, but something told me that wouldn't end well. Especially those cultivation writers.
[System Notice: The author would like to remind you that this platform has... diverse... ownership structures. Perhaps we should focus on the fantasy racism instead of real-world commentary?]
"Fair point," I muttered.
"What was a fair point?" Lyralei asked.
"Nothing. Just arguing with the narrative voice in my head. You will get used to it"
Sassy nodded in agreement. She also nodded like this was a perfectly normal thing to say. Either elves were very polite, or she'd already accepted that I was mildly insane.
***
The guild hall was exactly as we'd left it—full of the same adventurers who never seemed to actually go on adventures, nursing the same drinks and telling the same exaggerated stories about quests they probably hadn't completed.
The moment we walked in with Lyralei, the entire room went silent.
Not the gradual, ripple-effect kind of silence you see in movies. The instant, everyone-stops-talking-at-the-exact-same-moment kind of silence that only happens when something genuinely unprecedented occurs.
Then the whispers started.
"Is that an elf?"
"What's she doing here?"
"Who's the guy with her?"
"Why does he have a tiny dragon?"
"Wait, isn't that the F-rank guy who killed the wyvern?"
"He brought an elf here?"