Welt walked along the trodden valley path that lead towards the Southern border of Endsham for a while. Descending the winding path that took him towards the open plain that Endsham was built on gave him goosebumps.
The goosebumps were mostly from the wind, though.
Gods...
Being bare-chested in the Harvest season's tame weather wasn't dangerous, but was still uncomfortable. Wind that blew from the North, and travelled down the world, swept across the plain almost constantly, carrying all the heat from his body away behind him. The wildflowers and taller stalks of grass were blown constantly southwards, so much so that Welt had seem swathes of them bent backwards even at times of low wind.
Surprisingly, the scarf was largely unaffected by the winds.
Welt watched the Helm of the North, currently in the form of a scarf, a lot through his day's walk. It seemed to be affected by the breeze sometimes, but other times it swayed to its own motion.
It danced in the air on its own terms, unbothered by what the wind wanted it to do.
The scarf had kept Welt mesmerized for reasons beyond its lazy attitude towards the wind, though. It's origins kept him especially puzzled.
Did he say 'My Fog'?
Remebering the conversation with the invisible man was quite difficult, as if it had been a dream. A dream with vivid senses, true, but a dream nonetheless. Pulling specific phrases from a dream was always hard for Welt, as it was for most people, but he found it a little easier now. Strange.
Surprisingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, too, the sense Welt remembered most of all from the dream was the smell of it. The scent of snow had carried itself through the dream near-constantly, once the blackness had faded.
Welt had assumed, at the time, that this was due to the mountaintop he supposedly stood upon. But, he could still pick up that scent now, faintly, as the scarf swayed in the wind. Or, swayed between the wind.
Perhaps the gentle smell of snow signified the invisible man? It didn't seem to fit the image of the tall, boastful, joking figure in Welt's head, but the proof was wrapped around his neck.
Whoever he was, Welt figured that the answer wouldn't come to him by simply thinking about it. There was evidence to research, sure, but without somewhere to do said research, he would just be thinking unnecessarily.
Still, couldn't this scarf be more considerate?
Welt had now succumed to the wind enough that his arms were folded infront of his chest, hugging himself to try and keep the wind off himself.
The scarf, however, danced freely in said wind, and kept itself largely unwrapped - providing little function as a piece of clothing.
Walking slightly hunched, tired and cold, Welt continued to walk along the path more. The thin strand of a path he'd been walking had joined with several that extended from the East and West, becoming wider and more obviously trodden. Eventually, it even joined with a paved road, and became paved itself.
Once upon the paved road, Welt was reconnected with the rest of the Harvestlands, whose residents were making their yearly travel to Endsham for the sake of selling and processing their produce.
A group of such residents, a farmer and her family with a cartful of vegetables, overtook Welt on the path. Having been the first people he'd seen in a few days, Welt instinctively looked up at them with expectation. He wasn't sure what he'd expected from them, exactly, but he quickly turned away in embarassment.
That wasn't before seeing the puzzled looks of the family, who regarding him in his topless state, with a single knife strapped to his back and a strange scarf flowing around him. The farmer looked at him for a few moments and then focused on keeping the horse pulling the cart straight.
Her young sons whispered between themselves, letting a few giggles escape their mouths as they climbed atop the cart. Even the eldest daughter, who had looked taller than Welt at a glance, chuckled a little to herself after looking at him. Though, she went silent soon after, and hurriedly looked away while quickening her pace.
Welt wasn't sure why.
The two boys continued to stare at Welt as they went further and further up the road. Once or twice, feeling their gazes, he looked up and forced a smile out at them. They excitedly waved back at him, and talked among themselves. They seemed to get told off by the mother a few times, though.
Lucky.
Allowing the awkwardness in him fade a little, and getting used to the gaze of strangers on the path, Welt pulled his head up and looked forwards.
The once colourful dot of Endsham had grown to fill his vision. Vibrant banners and fabric blew tirelessly from the Northern winds, and a backdrop of spinning windmills, all of different materials and with different fabrics, each pasted with different insignias, adorning their blades. They spun endlessly, working as hard as the population of the city.
Naturally, Endhsam's own insignia was a Mill. Welt began seing said insignia upon watchtowers on the paved road: A waterwheel behind three sailed wind blades.
It supposedly symbolized the ceaseless spirit of the people of Endsham; working hard so long as the wind blew, and the river flowed.
Drun always said the place was simply in love with itself.
Welt was inclined the disagree with his father on this point: he'd always enjoyed the basy nature of Endsham, and how its people all seemed to be living lives of fun and excitement. More excitement than was found in the Western reaches of the Harvestlands, at least.
Welt walked further, ending up among more carriages and travellers. They all seemed to glance his way before returning to their business, but Welt had learned to not pay it any mind.
Barely.
Truthfully, he was going crazy from all the unwanted attention. His face was bright red under his dishevelled hair, and he hunched his back more and more with each gaze, until he was staring at the ground again.
He'd thought such things were beneath him, but who knew that being topless in a crowd would be so embarassing for him?
Welt had blocked out the sound of whispers and such from the crowd, and continued to walk past. Even as the crowd had come to a standstill, he walked through.
"Hey!"
Welt marched passed some people that stood in some kind of formation infront of him. He felt their gazes as he walked, more embarassed now, and walked through some large section of shade.
"Hey! Stop!"
Welt was pulled on the shoulder suddenly, and stumbled backwards. He turned back, seeing an armoured gauntlet on his shoulder, and a man in chainmail attached to it. The man had an annoyed, but also surprised look on his face. Behind him Welt saw a handful of other guards, similarly dressed, and with similar looks on their faces.
Behind them, Welt saw farmers and travellers sharing said look. They stood behind a great wall made of stone, that Welt had somehow found himself on the other side of.
"You can't skip the queue!" The guard said, grabbing Welt by the arm and pulling him back.
Oh...
He'd been so absorbed in getting away from the attention that he'd forgotten.
As he was dragged back, a familiar family of four: A mother, a daughter, and her two sons, looked at him with surprise. The boys waved at him again, and the daughter giggled quietly as he was pulled past them.
Welt's face grew redder.