The scenery looked ordinary enough. The morning mist giving way to the sun climbing higher in the sky. A dirt road snaking through forests and grasslands. Mountains in the horizon. Birds chirping on occasion, or some small animal rustling in the undergrowth.

If not for the studies of the cursed land from a millennium ago, he would have believed the stories mere fairytales to frighten children. Instead of unknown terrors, his biggest problem right now seemed to be finding people native to this realm to ask about his brother. But roads usually led to towns sooner or later. So he spurred his horse to walk a little faster and tried to be patient. He had waited for ten years. A few weeks or months would not make much of a difference.

A little past noon he arrived to a small farming town, a cluster of wooden houses surrounded by fields. The architecture was much like from a history book a few centuries back, rural and clumsy. He stopped in front of a house with a sign featuring a tankard of ale, surely a tavern of some sort, and tied his horse's reins to one of the large iron rings bolted to the wall.

As soon as he entered the building he was approached by a shapely red-haired woman wearing a colorful skirt and a white blouse with very...revealing neckline. "Hello there, handsome," she cooed. "What can I get for you?"

Raviel knew he was handsome, tall and in good shape. His lustrous black hair reaching down to his shoulders and partially tied back, as well as his almond-shaped emerald eyes, appealed especially to human women more used to the rough men of their race. But he also knew her type. It was more likely his high-quality clothes and the sword inlaid with enchanted silver at his hip that drew her in.

"Lara!" Someone called to her from the bar counter, his tone angry. "Get away from the pointy-ears! No good associating with them!"

She sighed and gave him a wink. "I hope to see you later, my lord," she whispered before leaving him.

Raviel walked over to the counter. "I want no trouble, I assure you," he spoke in even tone. "I'm only looking for any clues about my missing brother. He looks a lot like me, but one of his eyes is amber-colored."

"Haven't seen anyone like that," came the gruff reply.

"I understand. Might I buy some food and drink before being on my way?"

The barkeep, a grizzled man on his 50s, eyed him in a suspicious way. "Take off your gloves."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, pointy-ears. Take off your gloves and show me you're not one of them."

Raviel slowly pulled off his gloves and laid both his hands on the counter.

The barkeep tugged his sleeves a little higher to see his wrists, then huffed. "Alright, what will it be?"

He didn't really expect anything fancy in a place like this. "Wine, if you have any, and whatever food you have today for now." He did have quite a few traveling rations with him, being prepared for a long journey, but if this tavern had anything good, he might get some.

"Show me the coin first."

"Sure." He placed two silver coins on the counter. "That enough?"

The barkeep studied them for a moment and bit one to make sure. The insignia was weird, but silver was silver. "Aye." He pocketed the coins and soon returned with a bottle of wine and some bread, cheese and boiled eggs.

Raviel took his meal to a vacant table and started eating. The bread was stale, but nothing tasted like it had gone bad. He grimaced a little at the taste of the wine. Ugh, humans had never been a match to elves when it came to brewing, but this was awful.

He looked up as an elderly man sat down opposite to him. "What is it?"

"Just curious, lord elf. Mean you no harm at all."

"Raviel," the elf corrected him. "My name is Raviel."

"A strong name, my lord. You are a stranger in this place, no?"

"Perhaps. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm just old Matt. Some may call me a senile idiot, but I know a lot of things."

"Like?"

"The lay of the land, the lords, the dark things lurking in the night..."

"I see. What's your price for all this information?"

"Oh, merely a few silvers, my lord, and a drop of wine to soothe my dry throat." He held out his empty cup.

"You got yourself a deal," Raviel poured him some wine. "Tell me everything."

Matt downed the first cupful right away and poured himself some more. "This land, my lord, it be a prison. They say more people come every now and then, but most of us have been born and raised here. Lots of different people, humans, elves, dwarves. Heard tell of even stranger folks, but never seen them. Like people with snowy skin and hair and all-black eyes. And black tattoos all over."

"Moon elves," Raviel said. That had been one of the tribes banished in its entirety, their customs and powers too much for the other races. His own kin included. "Better not have seen them too. Go on."

"Yes, yes. Then there be the beasts, the wraiths, and the like. Dangerous to step a foot outside the towns. Even more so during the night. But you know this, no? Seeing as you carry a magic sword."

"I knew to expect some kind of monsters. But I don't see any magic weapons here. How do you survive?"

"Ah, that be because of the Dark Lords. You pledge your life to a lord and they protect you, simple as that. That is, if it suits them. Folks still die if they stumble too far from home."

"I see. Can I meet your lord? He may know something of my brother."

"No, no. The Raven doesn't like pointy-ears. You might have better luck heading northwest. There's a lake there, about a month's journey away, and a settlement of non-humans on the island. The Lady might hear your plea."

"How about the other lords?"

"Can't tell much about them, I'm afraid. Each lord has their own domain they never step outside of. If you desire to learn more, you need to talk to their followers. But..." He lowered his voice. "Beware the Viscount of Shadows and his servants."

"Viscount of Shadows?"

"Everybody knows his name, but not much else. None of the lords like him. He's dangerous, cunning. Might end up giving your soul to him while thinking you struck a good deal. All the Outcasts are his servants. If you see someone with thorns on their wrists, better keep your distance."

So that was why the barkeep had wanted to see his hands. "How much do you know of these Outcasts?"

"Shady folk, they are. Travel around in small groups. Untouched by monsters, probably due to some dark pact." Matt hesitated before continuing, "If you're really desperate, they can help with stuff most people would not do. But might ask your firstborn babe as the price. And you don't deny them their payment – they'll curse you."

~*~*~

After eating his light meal – deciding not to buy traveling rations from this place – and paying Matt for the information, Raviel headed back outside to his horse. The wards on his saddlebags were untouched, although he was certain the local children at least had to have been curious. He could see some small shapes studying him around the corners of buildings, but they quickly disappeared into hiding when he looked back. Apparently local children were just as wary of strangers as the adults. No matter. What he sought was not here, so he might as well be on his way.

Just as he was leaving the village on horseback, a single little boy, ten years old at most, ran after him. Raviel stopped.

The boy also stopped when he reached the elf, completely out of breath. "Mister...*pant* You look strong. Please...please help my sister."

"Your sister? What happened to her?" Raviel asked.

The boy shook his head. "I don't know. She hasn't come home. Three days ago she went to gather wild berries near the Bear Rock."

"You understand that bears might have eaten her, right?"

"It's called Bear Rock because it looks like a big, sleeping bear. Could you at least go look? Please. Our parents are dead and she's the only family I have."

The boy looked close to tears, and Raviel sort of understood why. After all, he was also engaging in a wild goose chase to find his only brother. "I'll go look, but I can't promise anything. How do I recognize her?"

"She's very pretty, with long flaxen hair. And she has a pendant like this." He showed him a crude round pendant carved from wood with three letter M's.

"Got it. I'll see what I can do." Most of the townspeople he had seen in the tavern had had brown or reddish hair, so flaxen blond should be easy to notice.