"S... Sorry, sir. I was guiding an esteemed guest that just arrived from outside the city." Prentan stammered out a quick apology and explanation, cracking under the pressure his leader exuded.
To Terem, this man didn't seem like the mayor he had first pictured, but on the other hand, military rule in a failing society was always a given: it happened in post-WWI Germany with Hitler, it happened in France with Napoleon, and it was happening here as well.
Seeing the burly ruler's gaze shift back to him, Terem took the initiative to speak.
"I've come from afar and wish to seek refuge in your humble village. Will you have me, sir?" Terem executes what he believed to be a masterful bow, dipping his head respectfully once again.
The man grunts before formulating a response.
"You aren't a noble, don't know why Prentan would bring you here though. What's your name, son?"
"Terem, sir."
"Yah see, Prentan? He doesn't have any last names. You should at least have the common sense in your head to ask if you're unsure. So, kid, what brings yah to these god-forsaken parts?" At that remark, Davarose flew into an uproar about him being the only god these swine would ever see in their lives or something along those lines. Terem didn't really care and the burly man continued, ignorant as to the complaints of his feudal lord.
"You get abandoned to die by your parents or... Oh, I see. Forget I asked."
"What seems to be the problem, sir?"
"Your hair, that's the problem. Don't tell me your parents never told you?"
"No, they never told me anything. What's wrong with my hair?" Now that the conversation turned towards Terem's non-existent past, he began to weave together lies, hoping that his repeated ignorance would net him some additional information and his neck intact.
The leader sighed and silently muttered a few curses under his breath.
"Well, come inside. I have to talk to Prentan anyways." Just as he finished his sentence, the hulking man hauled himself over the balcony railing and thudded on the pathway, cracking some of the clean stones beneath his feet.
He stood back up, showing off his entire 6'5" stature before turning towards the door.
Once inside, he pointed towards a reception area suited with enough lavish chairs to live comfortably off of for years if they happened to be sold.
Taking the hint, Terem and the constable sat while the man finally got around to introducing himself.
"Name's Charles Berstein, the guard captain of this town and the recently crowned mayor." His choice of words was lackluster at best, demonstrating his military experience, but his demeanor demanded respect.
"So about your hair, kid. Is it true white?" Charles immediately got down to business as his bushy eyebrows furrowed together.
"Umm, yeah... ever since I could remember my hair was white, is that a bad thing?" Memories of his sloppy reflection on the river floated to the top of Terem's mind. He seemed to vaguely remember the lack of pigmentation, not only in his skin but also everywhere else. Of course, it was mostly covered by mud at the time, but he made sure to wash most of it off at the time while not giving the grime many opportunities to collect after meeting with the road. This allowed his hair to remain white despite the days of travel he undertook.
"Well, it's an old folktale nowadays, but I suppose there are some merits to it. White hair shows that you have been blessed by the devil."
"The devil?" Terem didn't quite know how he would have been blessed by the devil. After all, he broke an agreement with Lucifer so, if anything, it should be from a devil's curse. Without knowing any of this, the captain continued.
"Yee, the devil. All of those white hairs come with abnormal strength or came from peculiar circumstances, but the fact remains that they ain't normal kids. Because of this, their parents typically desert them in some god-forsaken place as they did to you."
Terem got even more confused as Charles continued.
"Hold on, why don't they just kill us?" Terem's question was answered by laughter. Once Charles had calmed down enough he continued.
"You think those peasants are brave enough to kill someone blessed by the devil himself? Hell, those country bumpkins believe anything'll curse them from the heavens. They all probably live each day fearing random lightning bolts while calling each one the wrath of the Old Ones. Especially the Dwarven God of the Earth, Dvalim. For farmers, he's one scary bastard to piss off. But, I'm safe you see, after all, I worship the Seven."
"I see..." Terem, in fact, did not see. Not one bit so he decided to fish for information.
'Hey, Davarose, who are the Old Ones, and who are the Seven?' Surprisingly, the lich decided to answer, but not to Terem's satisfaction.
'I'll only say they are all Gods. First, do something for me, and then I'll tell you who they all are.' Terem thought hard about what the lich could ask him to do that would seem harmless on the surface, but lead to harm. He concluded that as long as he didn't piss off the captain, he would be fine so he consented to Davarose's request.
'Fine, what do you want?'
'I want you to ask Charles to fetch Tom Harig.' The lich's proposition seemed to come out of the blue in Terem's eyes; however, it did confirm that Tom Harig was a dangerous man. After a bit of thought, he decided to ask while simultaneously raising his guard.
"Well, I guess that fairy tale is pretty interesting, thanks for sharing it with me, but could you grant me a favor, Sir Charles?"
The guard captain nodded his assent, signaling for Terem to continue.
"Do you know a man named Tom Harig and could you bring him to me?" Immediately as those words left Terem's mouth, the atmosphere in the room intensified several-fold. Charles's face turned to view Terem with suspicion rather than curiosity. Even Prentan straightened his back into an iron rod. Terem seemed to hallucinate as he swore that he heard the sound of a dropped pin echo throughout the room.
Meanwhile, Davarose cackled out loud before whispering into Terem's mind. 'Now, I'll tell you if you manage to survive.' And then he continued laughing, reveling in the simplicity of his plan. He just knew that he would enjoy watching the torment Terem would experience as the boy learned what it was like to be a stranger in someone else's body.
Finally, Charles spoke, not daring to avert his gaze from the nude foreigner as a small bead of sweat crawled along his jawline. Minutes passed before he spoke again.
"What business would a man like yourself have with the humble Tom. After all, he is but a common citizen within our poor domain." His tone turned polite in an instant as he discarded his usually casual tone. Oddly, it didn't appear that he was looking at Terem anymore but rather was looking out at the wall behind him. "We will summon him at once if that is what you desire."
"Oh, I don't need you to call him, just showing me where he lives will be fine. I just wanted to chat with him is all." Terem became suspicious. Something was clearly going on and his instincts were screaming at him to leave, yet he remained seated.
"Are you sure that is all you need of him? I could bring him forward immediately if you so desire." With one final look at the wall, he broke out into a grin. The slimiest grin that Terem will ever see in his current life. "Ah forgive me, boy, but it is already too late. He is already here."