Baaaaaa Fei

If you were to travel through the wonderful land of Bleak Plains, you would be hard pressed to explain to one who has never been there the origin of the name. It is the greenest, most verdant, most filled with life land you will ever see, something proclaimed paradise before paradise, where villains turn to good men and good men into demigods, solely out of pure spiritual reprieve that they attain through their visit. Locals, however, are a different story. As they say you can get used to everything, and after having gotten used to paradise, they, however they used to be, went back to being simple men with simple needs. Good people for the most part, friendly and hard-working, but nothing out of the ordinary. It is as if the beauty and splendor of their land lulls them into complacency and prevents them from performing some great deed that you would expect them perfectly capable of.
Why, then, the name?
The narrator of this story would normally suggest to pray that you should never discover the answer, but alas, providing it is the very point of our undertaking. Just as to all good things comes an end, so will we endeavor to tear down this paradise-for-free and expose it for what it really is, for what it becomes and perhaps, for what it has always been. Indeed, we have perhaps already made a mistake in saying that it is a good thing with an end, rather than a bad one that has ceased to be, but may become again. Everything is a cycle. It is an inescapable rule, which besets a happy man with unexplained sorrow and allows the unfortunate ones to derive disproportional joy from the simplest pleasures. Even if your life is a plain with no ups and downs, some of it you will pass in happiness, some in sorrow and anxiety, for such is the whim of the universe from which you cannot escape.
Our story follows one Hugo Morrisson, a man who came to the Bleak Plains with a mysterious smile on his face and complete indifference to the change going all about him, replacing the salty, barren crags he left behind with a garden of eternal mirth. Everywhere he looked, encased in a rich green were floral gems of all kinds and animals that looked more like mythical beasts, friendly and devoid of fear, approaching him with little effort on his part, eating out of his hand though what he offered was hardly as good as that which grew all around them. Nevertheless, they accepted his offerings and licked his fingers clean with their rough animal tongues. Throughout all this Hugo retained a strange look of inner satisfaction, as though he was doing this in accordance to some secret design of his, though what design could consider feeding animals part of it is beyond my power to explain. I can detail the cause and effect of this man – nay, probably only the latter – but I cannot pierce his ocean-deep gaze and divine the reasons that drove him.
He had long black hair and wore a hood over it, seemingly taking great care to never remove it.
The most common entry into the Bleak Plains was through this low, sloped mountain calling the Elder, on account of how easy to ascent and generally accommodating it was when compared to all the rest, surrounding the Bleak Plains from all sides. Besides this, there were several paths known almost only to the locals, as well as passage by sea, which, however, bore too many dangers to be a preferred route. Surprisingly enough, the dangers that lurked in the sea never came from sea to land to assault this seemingly defenseless land, adding more to the mystery of the place.
„Oh, how things have changed.“ Hugo exclaimed, a smile of disdain on his lips. „Naught is ever as good on subsequent visits as it was the first time.“
After producing this dubious statement, he lowered his head and procceeded forward, supporting himself with a walking stick that seemed half-crafted by common man, half-designed by some primal deity. He met no one on his path besides more animals, which seemed to suit him just fine. Normally this road was way more populated than now, as people of all kinds would endlessly stream through it in an attempt to escape the weariness of other places, where life seemed to be a losing battle against ails, conflicts, famines and other misfortunes, that, at the age of fifty – should you live that long – leave you weary, crippled and slow of mind, regarding everything coming your way with alarm – if indeed, your eyes aren't too clouded over to see clearly.
However, the day was not favorable for long journeys, as just outside of the blessed place, a fierce wind was howling, threatening to tear everything it came across away from solid land and carry it a hundred paces, dash it against the jagged rocks of the seashore and leave them there impaled.
Recollecting that, Hugo's smile widened even further. He liked this strange feeling of feeling small agains the elements that, though we have learned to appease or evade at times, we'll never be able to subdue or conquer.
„On the coldest nights of winter,“ he muttered. „You feel as though the sky has come as close to the ground as can be and there is nothing in between, one pressing you against the other, both cold and merciless.“
„Such an alien thought, good sir!“ Surprised him a woman's voice, somehow hearing his barely audible whisper. „In this land of warmth and joy, no less!“
The traveler stopped and beheld a young woman in white clothing, emerging from beyond the bend. There was a careless look on her face, as though approaching one such as he on an empty road was the safest thing in the world to do.
Hugo shrugged his shoulders in reply, his smile half-waning from his face.
„We carry the weight of our memories wherever we go.“ He said. „ And just beyond the hill awaits a wind that loathes all happiness.“
„But you are safe from it here.“
He gazed at her face without replying immediately.
„Safe.“ Echoed he at last. „Alas, I am only passing by. Like a victim pursued who stops at an inn but must inevitably resume their journey, thus gaining but temporary reprieve.“
„In that case“ Approaching him and taking his arm in hers, the woman said. „Why not stay?“
„I'd miss the grandeur of... human life, should I choose to remain.“
„Grandeur?“
Her eyes betrayed confusion.
„Why yes, my lady. Here we live in an eternal dream, relaxed and happy. There, man lives in constant storm, which makes him strong and stalwart. It is misfortune that brings strength.“ He added. „And I wish to be strong.“
„Nothing can harm you here.“
„And yet, something can harm me elsewhere.“
„Not if you remain here forever.“
His eyes turned cold.
„I have been here, forever.“ He returned. „And I will remain – but to remain, I have to leave.“
All of this seemingly deep rhetoric passed over her head without causing concern. No doubt she was used to all kinds of people saying all kinds of things immediately upon entering the Bleak Plains. In the end, however, they'd all say the same things.
„Have it your way, sir.“ She smiled, releasing his arm. „But know that you are always welcome.“
He bowed to her curtly and moved along, to conceal a slight frown from her seemingly careless gaze.

At the end of the day, with the sun casting a deep, warm red over all it saw before its departure for the night, he reached one of the small hamlets that made up the majority of settlements of the Bleak Plains. There were no cities – just villages and less, while by the sea were situated two towns, small by worldly, huge by local measure. There was an inn there, sometimes getting many customers, sometimes none at all, but nevertheless open at all times. Replying to the greetings of those in the village square around the inn, Hugo ventured inside.
„Ah, hello.“ The innkeeper greeted him, whilst cleaning a tankard. „What would your lordship require?“
„Just a bed for the night.“ Replied he. „As well as some information.“
„Regarding?“
„Another traveler.“
„And who might that be?“
„A woman with blond hair and blue clothing.“
The innkeeper endeavored to stare, but found his visitor's countenance too stern to display any suspicion. Still, whatever laws the stranger followed outside, held no power here.
„Are you a soldier, my lord?“ He asked. „Are you in pursuit? I must warn you, that such business you will have to take outside of the place, one way or another.“
He saw his visitor frown briefly, then sigh and lighten up.
„I'm not used to having my motives questioned.“ He said. „The woman I seek is family to me. She invited me to visit the famous library of Ridhel, which, to my understanding, is one of your biggest settlements.“
„Indeed.“ The innkeeper bowed, as though just paid a compliment. As if the library came to be solely through the fruits of his labor. „Well, then, a woman matching that description did pass this way three days ago.“
„Did she leave any message for me?“
„No, my lord.“
„Did she seem... agitated, to you?“
The inkeeper looked astonished.
„Agitated, my lord? Why, nobody is agitated here!“
„I see.“
„She did seem... a little sad, I would say.“
The guest made no reply.
„Why, she must really be your family, for it is rare indeed to see two individuals so unmoved by the joys of this place.“
Hugo then endeavored a smile.
„My friend,“ He replied. „I may not look it, but I'm rather an old man. I've grown accustomed to all the joys and sorrows of life and have an ever harder time every day to tell the difference between the two.“
„Oh, how impossible that sounds to me! Why, I'm fifty five and still as glad to live as I was a lad of fifteen!“
„Blessed man.“ Hugo sighed wistfully. „I should like to learn from you.“
„Just stay two weeks and it will be done, my lord.“
Hugo seemed to think it over.
„Perhaps after I have visited the library, my good man. And reconciled with my relative.“
„Reconciled! Then you two are at oods?“
„No.“ Hugo laughed. „It's just what we call it.“
With no further comment, he arose and ventured towards the staircase, which led to the sleeping rooms on the second floor.
„Take key two.“ The inkeeper shouted after him and saw his instructions followed.

That night, it rained – but rain in the Bleak Plains was always warm and friendly, making you, instead of hiding from it, seek it out and let it run down your whole body.
„It brings me back from the dead, every time.“ Declared duke of Miracola once, having returned to his castle from a visit to the paradise on earth. „If I ever get stabbed, instead of the finest doctors of the land I will seek out the rain of the Bleak Plains.“
„But pray tell us, my lord, why do they call it that?“ Asked his subjects, guessing from something in the duke's countenance that he wished this question asked.
„Why, as a joke, of course! Or to seek to deter others from claiming this joy they want for themselves!“
Hugo reminisced about this, for he was among the duke's entourage, listening to his boisterous speech and feeling a strange sort of admiration for the man, something he seldom found himself capable of even in the presence of the noblest and most refined. He wondered if it was the childlike simplicity of the duke that incited this feeling, or something even less tangible. Contrary to the great noble, however, Hugo was perfectly content to remain in his bed, with the window closed, only listening to the sound of the rain, which permitted none of its other wondrous features to make themselves apparent. The sound of rain is universal.
„Am I punishing myself?“ Hugo whispered, seeming both content and saddened by the thought. „Or do I just not like to share?“
He glanced out the window. Everything past it was beautiful and kind, yet his heart was aching. Often he found himself beset by similar emotion when in presence of things he thought too great or beautiful for a life as dreary as his. Too good to be true – hence they give us sadness instead of joy. And yet, it was not always so. So many things had happened to this man, that he could no longer tell what was the cause and what was the effect of what he felt, thought or believed in.
Sometimes he thought it all foolish. A being of superior bearing, of greater purpose, beset by the petty emotions of jealousy and spite, revenge and contempt, that, a long time ago, he would have only thought possible in those he considered beneath him.
„But is it not natural to feel thus?“
And yet, his own people did not share his feelings. In their eyes, he was too exposed to the world of man.