The long green plains sometimes seem endless. The colour starts to become normal after a few days, boring after a few weeks and it becomes boring after a month. Sometimes it seems like we don't take a single step due to the lack of varying views. I have seen so much grass in the last month that I yearn for a bit of forest or stone. Sheep and other livestock are no longer fun to encounter, rather annoying. If I had a coin for every sheep I encountered, I would own several houses now. The plains of Morien are not for me.

I am more than happy when the stone houses of Runcast come into my sight. The largest human city known is feared by mages for many reasons. It is one of the few places where mages do not hold power and sit in government. It is also not on most maps. The bond between humans and mages has never been very good, they prefer to avoid each other. After the Moonlight War between the two camps, the bond has always remained strained.

That makes it the best place to avoid my father, but that's not why we're here. Mages don't generally come here much. That makes it the perfect place for any mage with a secret. Although the people don't like to see magicians, the entrepreneurs take full advantage of the wandering magicians. Brothels, taverns and places to lose your money are abundant.

Novak talked about it a while ago and described it as a city of party, drink, sex and filth. The combination of drink, party and sex will not help in keeping the streets clean. In addition, humans are known to be lazy creatures. They have no magic to put their things in order.

However, they have managed to build a wall around the city, a stone wall. The stones are built up in a herringbone pattern. The weather and time have found their way into the material, taking pieces with them. The missing stone here and there reveals a crack of life within the wall. Beneath the green plants, a glimpse of the original grey material can just be seen. One can see that this two-metre high wall was built without magic. The bricks are anything but straight. The grey-green pile of bricks is more of a curtain than a barrier. If this is an indication of the inside, I understand Novak's judgement.

I turn my head in his direction and look at a broadly greying Novak. His triumphant look tells me enough to know he is convinced he was right. I roll my eyes as I bring my horse to the gate. Even this kind of defence makes me wonder how the war could have lasted for years, how this city was feared. The two large wooden doors are marked with black burn marks, holes and scratches. The wood seems not to have been checked or renovated for quite some time. The two doors are barely held together with a loose lock.

Novak jumps off his horse, walks to the lock and pulls it off. The two red eyes stare at me in amazement as the piece of iron hangs in his hand. I put my hand over my mouth to hold back my laughter. Without effort, Novak pushes open the right door. A long street comes into view.

Slowly we let our horses walk into the village. The sloping streets are narrow, bumpy and crooked. As crooked and uneven as the wall is, the streets are even worse. The stones stick out here and there, are missing or half broken off. People don't seem to need much space. The houses are built so close together that the horses can barely get through. I marvel at the state of the city. Everything is old, broken and crooked.

'Look where you're walking,' shouts a woman I'm trying to wriggle out of. The pile of washing she had in her hands falls onto the half wet street.

'Sorry,' I shout after the woman. We guide the horses through the narrow streets before we seem to end up on the main street. I can catch my breath as soon as the street doubles in width. The smell that enters my nostrils on entering the main street is indescribable. I immediately put my arm in front of my nose as I try to keep out the pungent air. The smell of excrement, rotting food, damp and mould is almost unbearable. I stand still as I stare in amazement at the busy street. Perhaps hundreds of people have passed my sight in the time I have been standing here.

'Welcome to Runcast,' Novak says smiling as he looks at me. If there were a human anthill, this would be it.

'Thanks. Where should we go?' I ask with a clear urge to leave. The sun is slowly starting to disappear behind the houses and I want to have found a place for my horse and my things before darkness sets in. Novak beckons me and then steps into the stream of people.

In an attempt to wriggle myself through the hundreds of bodies and belongings, I follow Novak. Chickens fluttering around my head, men screaming, children crying and that awful smell make it anything but a pleasant experience. I feel like an ant in an anthill. The clothes one wears are often dirty, colourless and broken. My father was of the opinion that people are inferior and although I do not agree with him, I understand the thoughts.

We drop our horses off on the left side of town, one of the few uncultivated places with grass. Novak takes my hand and pulls me through the crowd to a tavern where he has spent the night before. Again we arrive in a small street. The sun has found its way behind the houses. Here and there, people light the oil lamps and torches on the walls to have some visibility.

I am pulled towards a wooden door that springs open just as we arrive. A man stumbles out laughing and almost falls over the threshold but catches himself on the wall. I look at the man in surprise.

'Good evening,' Novak says calmly as we enter the tavern. The man is too far gone to answer back. I am very happy as soon as the foul smell is replaced by the smell of roast chicken. The crowded tavern is warm and loud. The people who have already found their seats at a wooden table have clearly been here for a while, already finished their drinks. Novak and I take a seat at a table with a wooden bench on either side with a woollen cloth on top. I let the black scarf, which is always tied over my neck and shoulders, fall down beside me.

'What's your first impression?', Novak asks with a small grin as he takes off his coat.

'It's terribly crowded and the stench is unbearable,' I reply, sighing. Novak is about to say something before a young man walks in our direction.

'Drinks?' the boy asks in an impatient tone. He doesn't seem to like his job and I don't like him either.

'Water,' I reply gruffly.

'Make it two beers,' Novak interrupts me. I look at him in surprise as the boy nods and walks away.

'Don't drink water here, it'll make you sick,' he tells me. There's something I don't understand about this place.

'How could they have ever fought this war if this is the way they live?' Meanwhile, the boy returns with two glasses of beer, puts them on the table and asks what we want to eat. As we do everywhere by now, we ask for the speciality of the house. After a while, we were done looking at menus and asking for options. Taverns don't excel in their high quality meals so it doesn't matter what you choose. I take a sip of beer. That too is disappointing. It's watery, has little flavour and you have to keep drinking to feel anything.

'Humans were once a very prosperous people. Runcast was a bustling city and the plains we rode across were full of other villages and towns. During the war, many villages were destroyed, many people lost their homes and many lives were lost. People fled from the surrounding towns and villages to Runcast. At that time, they had a well-functioning army and defence. The town became overcrowded because it was the only place where you could take shelter. After the war was over, the humans had suffered such great losses that they could barely recover. They were as good as poor, all the towns and villages were destroyed except Runcast and more than half were dead. They were never able to pick it up completely, there was no money for it. The city was and is heavily overpopulated, so they started building more houses, for which there is actually no room. It has become and remained a mess. There is hardly a ruler in the city, no army, no sewage system, no rubbish system. Everyone here is just trying to stay alive and get some food, nothing more.' His explanation explains a lot: the crowds, the narrow streets and the stench. The smell reminds me of the smell I smelt last night and yet it is different. This smells like dirt, last night smelled like death.

'Why didn't they build houses on the plains right after the war?'

'They were afraid of a new war, for decades. To avoid spending their money on houses that would be destroyed afterwards, they started rebuilding and adding on inside the walls. You can see for yourself how narrow the streets have become, there is really no room for them. Now it is so crowded here and the city is so poor that there is no money to build new houses.'

These are things I was never taught as a child. Seeing other people's living conditions can be very interesting but can also turn out differently than I thought. This city is a lot to take in, especially when you have seen nothing but sheep and grass for a month. If all goes well, we won't have to spend more than a day here.

'I am beginning to understand that this is not a tourist town,' I reply. Novak smiles and takes a sip of his beer.

This is the first moment I take the time to look around the tavern. It is similar to every other tavern we have been to. Lots of wood, fireplaces, drunk men and the smell of food. However, this tavern is a bit narrower, has no or hardly any animal skins and no dance floor. The moment I start to wonder what the food will be like, the boy comes along with two plates. He puts the wooden plates in front of us and wants to walk away, Novak stops him.

'We want a room for the night.' The boy doesn't seem to be happy with that announcement. He sighs deeply and looks at Novak with an irritated expression. I know Novak well enough by now to know that the boy's attitude doesn't interest him for a second. He wants that room and he's going to get it.

'Two coins,' says the boy. Novak takes our money from his pocket and immediately pays for the food and beer. Only then do I look at my dinner. The smell coming from the plate is very inviting, although it doesn't look like it. A scoop of mashed potatoes, two chicken legs and a scoop of beans make up my supper. I am very satisfied with it for now.

'Looks good,' my tour guide smiles. Novak's knowledge has come in useful many times and something tells me that it will do so many times more. If I am grateful for anything or anyone in life, it is Rave. Without him, I would not have met Novak and that is the scariest thought I carry.

'Sure,' I say as I take a bite, grinning.