First comes the Hound
Then comes the Page
Third is the Hunter
Lastly his Blade

— Second stanza of "The Hunt", a bardic tale

———————————————————————————————————————————————————

"Who are you?" Laurits asked the figure. The shadows showed only a silhouette at this distance, but even so, Laurits noticed the strange shape of it; the figure's attire must have been bizarre, he concluded. And rightfully so. As the figure stepped closer, it became more apparent. The wore clothes fit tightly to the body seemingly without any seams as if it wasn't clothing but the figure's skin. It all was all in a harlequin pattern of various colors, though Laurits was unsure as to specifically which. And the figure bore a mask; it showed a caricature of a happy and a sad face merged together directly in the middle of it.

"I am the Nar," it said and bowed deeply, "Pleased to make your acquaintance"

"What d'you know about Faeries?" Laurits asked, ignoring pleasantries. He didn't feel like he owed it to such a shady character.

"Pleased to meet you," the Nar said again, still bowing.

"The pleasure is all mine" Laurits heard himself say, as his vision was pulled downwards. Something was very wrong. He didn't want to bow to this person, let alone exchange pleasantries, and yet he had just now felt so extremely compelled to do so, seemingly without reason. Seemingly. Laurits knew that this person - or creature - was responsible.

"I ask again, what do you know about Faeries?"

"That's not your real question is it, Lawrence."

"Lawre- that's not my name but-"

"Is it, Lawrence?" the Nar repeated. Something moved inside Lawrence's very being. It was as if something rotated and then clicked into place but in a different position. Lawrence simply stood dumbfounded and stared at the Nar.

"No. No no no, no. No, your real question is what are you, as in what kind of creature am I." the Nar stepped closer to Lawrence. It reached a hand up to his face and caressed it. Lawrence noticed how out of proportion they were; more akin to claws or talons than hands.

"But dear Lawrence, I cannot tell you this. Not yet. But eventually. Maybe."

"Why can't you tell me-"

"That's not the right question, Lawrence!" said the Nar in a raised voice, "It's not the right question."

"Then what about Faeries?" Lawrence asked.

"Ahh, the Fae Folk of the forests. I know of them. And I know you think them only a faerie-tale, ha! but they aren't, Lawrence. No, they're not, they're not just myth and legend and spinsters' tales. They're real, Lawrence, remember that. They're real."

"What if I don't believe you?" Lawrence asked. The Nar paused for a short moment.

"Now what's this? Neither right nor wrong but interesting indeed! What if you don't believe me? Ah! I see it's no question at all, that's why. Because you do. Or you will. Perhaps. Maybe. Eventually."

The Nar took a step backward.

"Now, Lawrence, it has been my utmost pleasure, but I must be going now. But before I do, a piece of advice," the Nar came close again even closer than before. It clutched Lawrence's shoulders and in a voice overflowing with terror, it said "Keep moving. Don't go home, just keep moving."

And with that there was a flash, a puff of smoke and the Nar was gone, all except for a lingering echo of its laughter. Or perhaps it was simply the wind? Maybe. As the sound, if it had existed, faded into nothingness, something shifted again inside Laurits. Laurits, that was his name. Wasn't it? A momentary air of confusion arose but quickly settled. His name was Laurits, of course, why ever would he think otherwise? The Nar had called him by a different name, but that had only been a provocative oddity of the creature, Laurits believed. It seemed a fickle and mischievous creature, whatever it was. It must have come from within the forest. He should stay clear of it, were he to cross paths with it again. And also, he should ask around if anyone had heard of such a creature. And of Faeries. He was sure, although not entirely as to why, that he should investigate the existence of Faeries, the Fae Folk of the forests. The Nar had mentioned them briefly and that they existed but Laurits wasn't entirely sure on that. But that itself seemed quite an interesting case. Sylver's disappearance still held top priority so far.

After a moment of clearing his head, Laurits continued his walk along the road to Meneades, and within the city walls, his home. As he took a step, he hesitated. The Nar had told him not to go home. And it had sounded sincerely scared. Maybe he shouldn't go home? What if it was a sign or an omen of sorts? Laurits thought, but at the same time, he was also sure that he should not trust this creature about literally anything. How shady was it to appear and disappear randomly in and out of thin air? And the manic mannerisms it bore? Clearly untrustworthy. Maybe.

While pondering the pros and cons of trusting the Nar, Laurits' feet carried him closer and closer to Meneades and before he knew it, he was standing before the gates to the cities; closed. But in the stillness and quietude of the plains and fields, he thought he heard a knocking coming from within the gate.