Although there was no swamp in sight, the ground being much harder than half a day back into the flatlands southwards of this town, it still rained. Day in, day out. When the rain stopped, a thick fog layed itself over everything. It was eery, true, but Runaan knew no different. His memories of other places were fragmented and incoherent. Sunny fields, an oasis, miles and miles of sand dunes, a bustling city, a forest. None of it made sense or gave him any real clue as to who he was or where he came from, for none of it told him anything. But Runaan was determined to make sense of it. The pictures in his head, the name, the books, the seal and his rude awakening.

The pages creaked audibly as he shut the book somewhat violently. He threw himself onto the neatly made bed and let out a sigh. Looking out of the window on the other side of the room revealed the sky to him through a small gap between the blinds. The grey hue was dissipating again. In its place, the same pitch black as the past nights began setting in. Every single one in the past two weeks had been this way. Apparently the region he tried his darndest to get out of was called the Badlands. Runaan considered it a fitting name. Although there was all reason to believe he would be able to get out, it did not help the eery feeling this place gave him. It wasn't something natural, nothing he could quite put his finger on or express in words. There was this distinct guttural instinct that told him danger lurked just around the corner. Although Runaan had learned to ignore it, as it had accompanied him every step along the way through the marshes, into the flatlands and onto the mountains. But there was truly something not feeling quite right today.

Rolling himself off the bed, Runaan slumped over to a small cupboard. Nightfall set in quickly now, the thick night fog blocked all sight, and an uncanny silence pread across town. Taking a pack of matches, he lit a candle that emitted a pleasant fragrance. The inkeeper's wife made them herself, and they truly managed to drown out the stench from his room, even if just for a while. Opening the blinds, he steered out the window into complete darkness. His breath created fog on the window. Only the light of a torch sitting atop a house wall across the dirt road could be seen. The sound of the wood slowly burning to a crisp resonating into the night reached him. Runaan observed this speck of light in a world of complete black for a while longer. He rested his hands on the cupboard in front of the window, gazing out with a blank stare.

Runaan furrowed his eyebrows. It was a strange sensation, the cackling of the fire seemed to grow more and more intense the longer he observed. He moved his face closer to the transparent glass. Squinting his eyes, the flame didn't grow brighter. But the sound of fire grew louder by the second. Just then, Runaan realized, the sound was not coming from the torch at all, but from the distance. From the pitch black. His guttural feelings, his instinct, his sixth sense kicked in. He pulled the blinds shut, rushed over to the candle, putting out the flame between his fingers. He opened the door and rushed downstairs. The inkeeper and his wife were playing cards onn a small table next to the door, a lamp lighting the lower floor. Runaan stared down the wooden steps. In unison, the elderly couple turned their heads. "What is it, young man? It is dark out, you should be resting for tomorrow." The woman told Runaan in a scolding tone. "Yes, I know..." Runaan said, his eyes darting around thinking of what to say. "Are forest fires common in this area?" The elderly woman gave him a confused look. "What a silly question. It rains here all year round, no fire ever lasts long. It's too moist up here." Runaan nodded, visibly not satisfied with the answer. "Why the question, boy?" The old man asked, a concerned tone lacing his words.

Runaan bit his tongue. "It was just, I was reading about forest fires. In a book, so I thought I'd ask." Runaan responded, a convincing childishness in his voice. "Well..." The old man answered. "We've lived here for nearly 60 years now, and there hasn't been a single forest fire. So no reason to worr-" In that moment, a bright glow pierced the curtains and the gushing sound of flames going out thundered from outside. The couple looked at each other. "I'll go look." The old man said. "You go to bed, kiddo." He waved at Runaan, who's instinct had rang any and all alarms it could think of right now. He silently walked back up the stairs, but stayed at their very top, where he could not be seen. Leaning against the wall at the beginning of the hallway, he stared down the dimly lit corridor, waiting on what would happen.

MORDREAD

The cold sweat on the back of his neck caused his hairs to stand up. Runaan shook, even though he didn't know why. It was something arcane, a cosmic warning sign, his body repulsed at the sound of the stranger's voice. He had no precedence to be this frightened, this fearful of someone whom he didn't even know. But despite this, the violence with which his stomach churned when he heard the first creak of the wooden panels that led upstairs gave him goosebumps all over. Luckily, he was still able to think straight. Steering down the corridor, his child-sized feet allowed him to swiftly sneak all the way down, barge back through the door he had left open and just gently lean the lock onto the hinge. Standing in his room in complete silence, he layed down onto his bed making not another noise. There was no reason to act rashly. He needed to figure out what this man wanted. Needed to know why he was feeling so repulsed. With a damp feeling in his stomach, he decided to sleep.

______________________the next morning______________________

Runaan opened his eyes the moment the grey brightness flooded through the open blinds. It was a good idea to leave them open. The first morning light would give him an advantage. He would be able to prepare. There were not many things to gather, but just in case, Runaan had prepared his byte-sized traveler's bag with books and the few clothes he got from the inkeeper and his wife, and placed it next to the door. He made his bed, opened a window just slightly to let the night's stench seep out and made his way downstairs. Past the room where the stranger slept in, he silently walked down the stairs, caring to not make a noise, skipping the panels that creaked too loudly. The ones that always woke him up, whenever the inkeeper came to bring him some water and bread for the morning, before getting to work.

The wife was already up. She mumbled a tired and quiet morning call to him, slightly surprised that he was not still asleep. He whispered a childishly intonated "only the early bird catches the worm" and decided to get to work. With perfectly acted innocence and a convincing curiosity Runaan asked about the stranger that had arrived last night. The wife told him he seemed like a rich man. Military, most likely. Someone from the northern deserts. She didn't know why he was here, couldn't imagine what he wanted around these parts. Didn't know his intent. Seemed awfully polite, like he didn't mean any harm. Runaan just nodded all the way through. He grew concerned the more she talked. There was this eery feeling, this creeping possibility that it had something to do with him. Runaan knew it was illogical, irrational to think himself the cause for some Madiyan general's visit here, but there was just this sliver of chance that this stranger was looking for him.

Getting to work after finishing his glass of water and loaf of bread, he started dusting off the tables, cleaning the dishes, washing clothes and arranging furniture in order. It was 8 in the morning and Runaan was already finished with his early duties. Something that would give him the chance to observe the stranger as soon as he woke up. He was sure that he wouldn't have to wait much longer for him to come downstairs and demand his breakfast. Runaan would try to lure some information out of him. Sitting at a table, laying out a patience with some playing cards, he waited for the sunrise to wake the town. The bad feeling in his gut had not ebbed away just yet. There was still this uncanny sensation of danger floating in the air.

MORDREAD

The seven of hearts made a quiet slapping noise as it hit the table, taking its place beneath the eight of clubs. The tone aligned perfectly with the first creak of the wooden steps that lead downstairs into the small dining area. Runaan calmed his breathing, readying himself. His eyes didn't move from the cards. Taking the king of spades from the remaining card pile, he placed it onto an empty spot, the slapping noise aligning with the sound of tight footsteps hammering down onto the floor. The stranger dawned upon him. Taking a queen of diamonds, he placed it onto the king of spades. Revealing a jack of clubs lying beneath the queen he placed it beneath the queen. Taking an entire stack of cards that ranged from a red ten to a red two, the colours switching between evens and odds, he stacked them on top of the king, queen and jack. Sorting them together, he placed the entire pile next to him.

He didn't turn around to peek at the stranger. His eyes didn't move from the cards. Runaan's face was concentrating, it was tense. His eyes wide open, biting his lip with every step he heard. His hands fiddled around with the cards. Moving them around, revealing a few, stacking them on top of each other in an ever quicker pace, Runaan kept playing quietly until a voice reached his ears. It was not a hostile tone. Authorative, demanding, and perhaps even a bit aggressive. Yes, but not hostile. Not antagonizing. Not on the surface. But it gave something away. Something that lied beneath the outer shell.

His hands grabbed all the cards on the table, the patience was finished, it had resolved. He quickly shuffled them together, aligned the edges and slapped the deck on the wooden table. His face turned around, revealing a bright, childish smile on his face. He let his feet dangle off the end of the chair, playfully and with convincing innocence. His eyebrows were pulled high up, with genuine curiosity and an immature sense of wonder. "Why mister, you can get some right here. The inn's bed and breakfast. I can go fetch the master to-" Heavy steps made their way through an open door and into the wide dining room. Without looking at the two, the innkeeper greeted both of them, very clearly and openly dropping Runaan's name.

Without so much as flinching, Runaan responded in an expectedly childish, nonchalant manner. "Yo, master, you're up late. The guest would like some breakfeast. Should I heat up the stove to make some eggs and bacon? I can help the wife cook!" He got up from his chair and pulled past Mordread, just briefly letting his face drop the moment eye contact broke. "I know you don't want me to, but I can help in the kitchen too." The inkeeper looked at Runaan with a disgruntled face. "Listen here, don't be so easy-going. And don't you touch the kitchen. There's too much to do wrong in there. Martha's told me you've already finished for the morning so just take a break 'till noon, alright?" The inkeeper moved towards Runaan, patted him on the back and shoved him away. "Excuse me, master. How may I help you?" He asked with a charming, rural politeness.

MORDREAD

Runaan let himself get shoved aside. He didn't like being obedient. It felt especially silly because he knew he was not a child, yet had to act like one to keep up this ridiculous facade. He moved back past the Madiyan and picked up his playing cards. Shoving them into a pocket, he started moving away from the inkeeper and Mordread. The innkeeper started talking about the local butcher who could surely fix up a nice piece of meat for a decent price, as well as the bakery that always had a small assortment of exotic pastry in stock. The stranger seemed disinterested, lost in thought almost. An expression ran over his lips. Runaan didn't react, but internally he was growing more worried.

"You know," Runaan started in a brief conversational pause.

"I've been wondering what some from Madiya would be doing this far down south."

Runaan said with a bright look on his face. "You don't seem to know your way around. I could show you. We could have a chat. I'm good at chatting. I have a lot of questions about what it's like in the north. Heard there are deserts and trees that grow leaves that are bigger than me." Runaan paused for a second. The innkeeper looked at him sternly. "You shouldn't bother guests, young one. Go on, leave. Play outside, Renaille down the street is always bored. She's your age, go play with her." Runaan looked back and forth between the two adult-bodied men. "Well, the town's not that big, come find me if you feel like it, mister." Runaan said, turning around on his heel and strided out the front door.

Once outside, his face dropped. He took a deep breath and his body tensed up. He was feeling nauseous, but he couldn't let it get to him. He looked down the street to his right, then turned his head and did the same to the left. The greyish daylight and wet air was still tainted by the freshness of the morning air. He felt the definite need to finally get out of here. Away from that stranger. But at the same time, maybe his instinct was wrong. Maybe, right now, he was overreacting. Without memory to validate his feelings, Runaan didn't want to attempt to jump to conclusions and throw away this little isle of peace he found. Where he could research the books in private and perhaps find something out about his past. He put his hands in his pocket, tried to look relaxed and at ease and began striding down the street.

MORDREAD

He was being paranoid, unreasonable, impulsive, overly emotional. Perhaps the disconnect between what he felt he should look like and what he actually looked like messed with his thoughts. There could be a multitude of reasons why someone like that was in this region right now that he had no possibility of knowing about. Runaan continued walking down the street trying to rationalize the events of the past couple hours like that, fully ignoring the fact that he was still suffering from some heavy amnesia and the chance of his strange circumstances not being connected to something as unusual as a member of the Madiyan military showing up down south in the Badlands was not one he wanted to take. But ultimately, he had no way of knowing and to calm his gut instinct down all he could was stay collected and try to keep an open and ready mind for anything that would happen. Perhaps, except being aggressively confronted by this very Madiyan stranger.

He heard the name he called his thunder behind him. Something that completely blew out all previous rationalization and rung the alarm bells louder than ever before. Runaan stopped dead in his tracks, stayed there for a while. Not paralyzed by fear, but shellshocked by the very limited amount of options he had right now. The stranger called to him, ordered him to come to his side. Runaan turned around with a childishly confused look on his face. "Excuse me mister, but I don't completely understand..." he responded in a typically innocent manner. Then he saw the bright flash above him and a surge of him starting to grow closer. He looked upside and in an instinctual reaction that probably saved his life he covered his face with his arms, dropped down and rolled over to the side, just barely scraping the floor next to the brilliant flash of fire that blew up next to him, singing his hair and clothes.

Runaan rolled over the ground twice before coming to a stop, his face lying in the dirt. His breathing was heavy, his bones hurt all over. Runaan stayed down for another moment, his thoughts racing on what to do. Until he decided to quickly rappel himself out of the dirt. He got up facing Mordread with raised hands. "Sir, I'm afraid I don't completely understand..." He had to get to his things, and then out of here. "What is the meaning of this?" Questions that had none of the childish innocence from before. They told of genuine confusion and not understanding what this stranger wanted from him.

MORDREAD