"Alright. We've probably got a set of clothes for you, even. You keep that blanket wound up until we get there, though. Follow me, if you please."

He laughs. He follows. He remains thoroughly blanketed.

The town that the constable walks him through is fairly lively. Though it shows almost no sign of the light of technology - the most technically advanced thing he sees is a clock tower, or possibly the oil lantern outside that one shop.

...Yeah, he is definitely getting a not-in-Kansas-anymore feeling, here.

The woman in robes who flies across the street riding a broom, just above the close-built brick houses halfway there probably doesn't help.

There are flying brooms back home too, but... yeah, there's something about it that doesn't feel quite right.

"Well, here we are. I'll get Kerrian to fetch you a snack and a shirt. We have beds if you like, it's just that they're in jail cells. I'd leave the door unlocked." He chuckles.

He laughs. "Thanks. I'm not that tired yet."

He gets a snack and a shirt. The policeman has to go back to work, but this secretary knows English, some. And she soon tells him that someone will come pick him up in about three hours.

He eats the snack. He wears the shirt. He thanks the secretary for the information and sits quietly.

This is a police station, but apparently crime is pretty slow around these parts. One person comes in to deliver a lost wallet, and that's about all the activity it sees.

Huh. Good for them.

The person who comes to deliver him to the big city is a middle-aged woman in what look like special flying clothes, with a large construction that's not really a broom in function anymore, just aesthetic. She has middling to poor English.

...Yeah, the brooms seem to be a thing here in a way not characteristic of the magic he's familiar with. Well, okay then. He can be carried around on a flying broom if necessary.

She flies at a relatively sedate pace, high over French countryside. It takes about an hour and a half to arrive at the big city.

There are improbably towering storm clouds visible past the horizon to the east. It must be hundreds of miles off, but that's a big storm.

Wow. Yep. Storm: very big. He's not sure how to ask the courier what the deal is, though, so he keeps quiet about it.

She drops him off at a big, recently built-looking compound. Some buildings still under construction, the finished ones' bricks are still bright red, there's a wide open yard with hundreds of tents set up inside it.

A very fit-looking woman dressed in some kind of uniform with a shiny stylized wing emblem on one side and a nametag reading 'Sabella Carlotta' comes out to meet him. "Welcome to the refugee center. Wherever you came from, it's safe here."

"Good to know," he says, smiling at her.

"Let's get you processed, then. Any idea where you might have fled from? Where you want to end up?"

"Not really," he says. "On either count."

"Hm. Well, we have space for you either way. Useful skills? We try to find people jobs."

"Dunno what's useful, but I'm pretty good at learning new things."

"A lot of things are useful. And there's always factory work, hauling, laundry, or similar if you don't have any specialized skills." She produces paperwork and starts filling it out. "You can sit down if you like. What's your full name?"

Not like she'll know any different. He picks something off the top of his head.

"Valentine Theodore Everett."

She writes this down. "Family?"