A Goose Clerk in the Eastern Han

In the stable behind the courtyard of the post station south of town, the sour stench of fodder mixed with animal droppings rushed straight up his nose. Dong Da’e suddenly opened his eyes. A dull ache at the back of his head made him suck in a sharp breath. Above him were mottled wooden beams with bundles of dried mugwort hanging from them. He heard mules and horses snorting, along with people arguing in ancient Chinese, which he could barely understand through their heavy accents.