The City in the Midst of Mist

Hoping from stone to stone, Kitsune has crossed craggy black mountains to bring us to the heart of these. Beneath, where the sharp peaks give way to even land, I can already catch sight of Ard Ramalia.

    A vast sea of mist spreads down there. It’s not merely mist covering the earth; it fills ditches so deep that the greyness is a reassuring sight in comparison. Here and there, where kind of islands protrude from the Misty Sea, numerous habitations define villages. Pyramid-shaped, if not for their flat summits, they’re made of black stone blocks rising from stretches of dark sand.

    Kitsune follows the path shaped by a large walkway running through the mist as we head to the most important of these places.

“Here is the place I inhabit.” The ruler comments. “Makhlubi, also called the City in the Midst of Mist.”

    This is the first place the Hero discovers in the game. The place a villager takes him after finding him unconscious at the bottom of the mountains. There, the Beastmen take good care of him. His memories gone, when Ken the Hero learns about the prophecy, he decides to fight for the sake of this world.

    This is where his adventure begins.

“Makhlubi…” I echo, amazed by the landscape.

    Unlike the bare and dry mountains, vegetation manages to grow upon the black sand, allowing the Beastmen to produce crops for their survival.

    Kistune slows down as we reach the first habitations, each one important enough to include numerous housings along the long corridors carved from one side to the other of the buildings.

“What terrible heat.” Tyffeon sighs, the breeze brought by Kitsune’s rapid pace now cruelly lacking.

    A few Beastmen work in an orchard, the trees’ shadows protecting weaker crops they tend to. They all wear either a kind of long skirt or loose pants adorned with a large fabric belt, tightly wrapped around their waists. No cloth covers their slightly tanned chest, a sort of large, colourful necklace or other accessory hanging from their shoulders.

“My dear boy, you have too many of these clothes for this place. You’ll feel better if you remove some.” She teases.

    I sneer. How could I refrain…

    At our approach, their beast ears twitch, the summit of their heads protected by a piece of fabric. They steal glances at us, or more precisely at their chief. Seemingly not concerned by Tyffeon and me.

    Tyffeon, on the other side, seems a bit concerned by the ruler’s words as he averts his gaze, discreetly gripping the fabric over his chest.

    Teehee.

“That won’t be necessary.”

    How cute.

    When we reach the central place of Makhlubi, Kitsune lets us get down before addressing us a glance.

“That is where I leave you. It’s still daytime, so wander, do as you please.” She already continues on her path, leaving us behind. “Though I would rather advise you to take some rest.”

    Exchanging glances, Tyffeon and I stay silent for a while before we decide to explore the city.

    A handful of merchants, of craftsmen. The noticeable point being that we spot almost no women among them.

“Makhlubi is far more calm than I imagined…” Tyffeon frowns, glancing around. “I thought it would be more animated than this.”

“Is this your first time in Ard Ramalia?”

“Indeed. That’s… not the kind of place I would run to if not needed.”

“Why is that so?” I ask, absolutely innocently.

    At my words, Tyffeon glances at me. For a while, he hesitates. Then, he clears his throat.

“Neheh…” I can’t get bored from his attempts to hide his embarrassment.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

    As if to prevent me from prying further, he walks away, approaching a merchant on the side of the main street, sheltered underneath a large piece of fabric protecting him from the scorching Sun. Sitting cross-legged before a variety of weapons, he has a grey furry tail and wolf ears.

    I glance at the merchandise as Tyffeon chooses a bunch of arrows.

“I’ll take these.”

“A very good choice.” The Beastman smirks. “Their heads are made out of our mountains’ stones. They are the sharpest you can find around.”

    Tyffeon nods.

    When he’s done with the merchant, he turns towards me, extending me a quiver filled with arrows.

“Take these, you may need them sooner than you expect.”

“Let me guess,” I glance at the arrows, amused, “you hardly have any success with women, don’t you?”

    He frowns.

    A hint of an offended glance in his apple-green eyes.

“Well, well, don’t stare at me like this,” I begin with a smug smile, reaching out to take hold of the quiver. “I’ll end up blushing.”

“Now I regret my choice to follow you in this quest.” He averts his gaze.

“I mean, you can still decide to-”

“I won’t ab-” He cuts me off only to get cut off in turn by my grumbling stomach.

    Naturally, a moment of silence follows.

    I can almost swear that I saw him turn his head away to conceal a laugh.

“Let’s find a place to eat something.” He concludes.

***

    Fire crackles, flames float in glass half-spheres placed here and there to light what pretty much resembles an inn. A place we found in the cave of one of the buildings made with black stones. The freshness down there offers a welcomed respite, which the cold meals proposed by the innkeeper – a goatman – only make more appreciable.

“Mmm, I never thought I’d be able to enjoy a salad that much!” I rejoice.

    In a purple bowl-sized half-fruit, I dig into a mix of local fruits, nuts, and goat cheese. I’d swear there’s also honey… unless it’s the taste given by this peculiar purple fruit? Anyway… that’s so tasty!

    Tyffeon enjoys his own salad without visible traces of enjoyment. Even Awa, who received a small portion as well, appreciates the food in a more obvious way than he does. At least the little owl is interested enough to stay awake.

    Despite that, we both know we needed a meal. Since our escape from Rathard, we didn’t have any moment of peace after all.

    When was the last time I enjoyed a meal that much? I think the last one was-

    …and just like that we ended there each time, around a bowl of ramen. They made the best broth I’ve ever tasted, spicy and never failing to warm us up…

    Ahh…

    As the memory flashes through my mind, I lower my gaze on the food. A mocking smile over my features. It’s so silly how a little company can make food more enjoyable. So silly. Stupid. Foolish.

    As if it could alter their taste.

    But…

“So now, what should we do?” Tyffeon asks, chasing my thoughts away.

“About?”

“The emissary. Do you have any clue about his identity? The moment he is supposed to appear?”

    Chewing on my food longer than necessary, I consider his question for a while. I avoided telling the rulers about the possible emissaries because I feared that some among them would have executed each of these persons.

    Should I tell him about them? Will this be able to help us? It’s only the two of us, it’s not like we can constantly watch ten people. Which sub-scenario is this?… And what if another bug occurs, what if my assumptions lead us on a fake track?

“I… I need more time to figure it out, my visions about this are still fuzzy. But I don’t think we have much time. At best, we may have until the next festival to figure out who it is.”

“The next festival…” Tyffeon muses. “So until Jera, the fifth season’s festival.”

    Since the fifth season takes place in-between the other seasons, it’s always a fleeting one, but marked each time by the celebration of Jera.

“Our best chance would be to find out who the emissary is and to prevent them from becoming one.” I comment, taking another colourful spoonful.

“Is that even possible to prevent it?” He raises an eyebrow. “It would be safer to eliminate them.”

    My hand freezes, hanging over my bowl. I raise my eyes to meet his gaze.

“Well… We may end up having no other choice but…”

“There’s no place for compassion, Amako. The stakes are far too important.”

“Compassion? No, listen. I have no intentions to preach or something. But do you think we’ll make it alive if we kill one of this kingdom’s folk? Think about it. We act without the consent of the rulers. If the emissary commits no crime, we’ll be the criminals.” I hold his gaze. “And if we can’t get out of Ard Ramalia after defeating the emissary, that would be for nothing.”

    Tyffeon frowns but doesn’t protest. We’ve been lucky once when fleeing Tír-nan-cnocc. The same might not happen twice.

    Meanwhile, a figure emerges from the corridor giving access to several rooms for the customers. His look bland, he heads towards the entrance as we speak.

“In that case, you need to learn using your bow as soon a-”

    Before Tyffeon can finish his sentence, he’s cut off by the silhouette bumping into our table.

“Tssk. You…” My favourite grumpy elf scolds. “Would it be a luxury to use the eyes you’ve been born with?”

    Surprisingly so, the man – seemingly a Drac judging by his seaweed tinted hair and fine features – doesn’t manifest shock nor anger for these words. To be precise, he hardly manifests any emotion.

“Ahh… I’m sorry. I didn’t notice that this table was here.”

    He intends to walk away but stumble after a few steps, falling to the ground.

    Raising to his feet, Tyffeon helps him to straighten up.

“Are you not sober?”

    Addressing a nod of gratefulness towards Tyffeon, the Drac shakes his head.

“No… I’m just… still tired from last night. How strange… I spent the day sleeping until now, though.” He muses, his features drawn.

    While the Drac finally takes his leave, I follow him with my eyes.

    The night… Ah, poor man.