There were gas lamps at the station in Shire, but in town, apart from those hung outside the inn and a few other places, the streets had no public lighting. As people headed off in groups to their lodgings, most could only follow the residents who had come to collect them, guided by the kerosene lamps in their hands.
The man leading Mulan had a slight impairment in his left leg. He carried an oil lamp and walked ahead to one side, thoughtfully trying to cast its light at Mulan's and Handel's feet. Another man carrying an oil lamp walked farther ahead.
Despite his bad leg, the man was not slow. If anything, he walked faster than most people. Like the Shire resident ahead of him, he had a hunting rifle slung across his back.
"Gentlemen, watch your step. Some of the paving stones stick up, and you could trip if you're not careful. There are shallow holes in places too, so mind you don't step in them."
"Thank you. We'll be careful. I take it Shire doesn't get many visitors."
Mulan casually asked the question, and the man answered with a smile.
"We certainly don't get many outsiders, but don't judge Shire by how it looks now. It was a bustling place when I was a boy."
"Yes, I've read about that."
Mulan exchanged a few words with the man now and then, mostly asking about Shire.
Handel followed quietly behind. Beside him walked another silent man-the passenger who had approached Mulan on the train.
In fact, the three of them were going to two separate households. Mulan had chosen the man with the bad leg because he had seen him arrive laughing and chatting with the other resident. They were clearly friends, or more likely neighbors who lived