Chapter One: The Search

Fifty years have passed, since I began this journey with Yamato. It has been anything but dull and I have learned much. There used to be a time when I couldn't stop thinking about my family back at home. Now, they're just a passing memory, though I hate to think of them in that way.

“Well,” Yamato said, shoving a piece of paper in his pocket. I looked up at the half-elf. His hair was still long, because he didn't bother taking care of it. Mine was still cut short. “What do you say about going to Verray?”

“Verray?” I asked, a bit thoughtfully. Verray was a silvan elf village to the far south, a port town. “That sounds fun,” I said, with a nod. “When are we going to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he said, with a nod. “I'm told I will find out a little more information in that town, concerning your family.” I nodded. We had looked for them for the past month following my birthday; the cottage was destroyed and a business had replaced it. Yamato sighed, sitting in front of me. “When Salyti told me he'd send a letter, I didn't think it was going to be a treasure hunt.”

“I don't know,” I said, quietly. “I don't have a good feeling about following all these letters.”

“I know, they make me uneasy as well,” Yamato said, feeling the one in his pocket. “The strange thing is, they're in your grandpa's handwriting and in Nubian. He's only one of a few people on the planet that knows that language and writes with his left hand.”

“But I also know he won't beat around the bush.”

“Well, it depends on what he has in his mind, but yes, he usually doesn't procrastinate on these sort of things.” He sighed, quietly. “All we really can do is follow the letters.”

“Yes,” I agreed. Then, I looked at his pocket, again. “Can I see the letter?” Yamato pulled the letter out of his pocket, smoothed the edges out and gave it to me. I hadn't told Yamato that I could read Nubian. He had been careful for the past fifty years not to let me read them. I read it, quietly. All it really said (in Grandpa's sloppy handwriting) was to go to Verray and talk to the manager of a small inn near the entrance. I frowned, when I saw his sloppy signature on the bottom. He always spelled his name wrong; instead of a “y,” he used an “e.” I remembered he told me that he liked the way it looked better than with a “y.” ‘It makes it look more even,' he had said, with a smile. “Yes, that's him,” I said, handing it back to Yamato. “I recognize that sloppy signature anywhere.”

“I don't know why he writes it like that, either,” Yamato said, smiling at the letter. “But, you're right, it is his handwriting. All we can do is hope they're not in trouble.” I nodded, quietly. He stretched. “Well, I'm going to turn in. Remember, tomorrow at dawn.”

“Right,” I said, with a nod. The half-wood elf slowly left, going down the hall.