In a dull grey room, a young man sat at a wooden desk, his fingers stretched across a large wooden map in front of him.
Crafted from meter-long planks of wood, the wooden fixture acted as a backsplash for the young man's workspace.
Oceans, forests, and mountain ranges had been hand-painted on its surface. Thin blue rivers snaked across the wooden canvas, tiny diagrams of cities dotting their banks.
Dark burn marks marred the wood over each city location, aligning to form names.
Two of these names drew the attention of the young man.
Edain, Miaan.
"One hundred, one fifty… no. There should be a detour here, so it's a bit longer…"
Currently, that young man was experiencing regret. A common feature of almost any map was a legend- a legend that gave distance scales. This map happened to lack that, leading to the writer trying to measure distances using his fingers.
