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A pilgrimage to the Temple of Ma'at is all my late mother had asked me to do when she died. She told me to take her urn to the reliquary so that her ashes can at least be in the same place as the Holy Corpse. I'm personally not a devotee of Ma'at, but I can see how the faith became famous. A demigoddess who defected from the enemy, the Theoclasts, to help protect an entire continent. The Barrier is one of her great works, five pillars that hold it up around Yuandi.
I am human. Or renshi. Or a mixture of the two, I don't know. I was left by my parents' doorstep by the people who birthed me (whom I refuse to call "parents") and was raised by an Anglo-Elf family. Being the only one with dark hair in the entire village, my nickname became Bláicheare, though my name is Caelan. I have two sisters, one 5 years older and another 6 years younger. I was never treated differently by anyone, though I can guess that's because of my innate light magic connection. Ever since I can remember, I was healing the wounded. I heard that the Anglo-Elves despise humans, even though they're basically a mix between humans and elves. Perhaps they think having elven blood makes them superior.
When mother died, we held a funeral for two days as is customary. She died of an unknown illness that my healing magic couldn't cure. After her cremation, my father entrusted to me her wish, which I stated before. Since I'm the only able-bodied male in my family and I look old enough, I was the logical choice. Anglo-Elves mature slower than humans, so I look older than my sisters. Unfortunately, our nation, the Igirith Kingdom, is at war with the neighbouring Jirkaeriya Confederacy over the ownership of the large island on the west coast of the continent. We call it Haséaleen, they call it Haşarin. In my opinion, we should let Jirkaeriya have it, since we already overlook the Red Pillar on the far south of the continent. For some reason, the Anglo-Elves think the Hazrun can't be trusted to protect the Black Pillar, which is located in Haséaleen.
With a war and border raids going or not, I still wanted to honour my mother's death wish, so I departed with a caravan of Mustalf (or dark elves, as some call them) that were in their way to the Archbishopric of Ma'at. Since they're neutral and wanderers anyway, I believe travelling with them is a good choice. The payment would be to provide free healing until we arrived at the Archbishopric.
I can only say I had some culture shocks while among the Mustalf. Firstly, our appearances are strikingly different. They exclusively have dark skin, be it grey, black, or bluish, due to an ancient curse placed upon them thousands of years ago, or so the stories go. That's why the elves despise them and they used to be a single race, in fact. Their hair can be red, white, blonde, or black, and their eyes are often red, though many can also have golden, green, and blue eyes. To me, they look just like elves with a different coat of paint.
Their language is quite similar to elvish, a language that I studied in passing. The language of the Anglo-Elves is much more similar to the language of the Weisslanders, humans from the Pectus continent, who fled their homeland due to the Theoclasm. They are also very loud, eccentric, and artistically inclined. All the time I heard song around me and any occasion could be an excuse to laugh and dance. Every night some wounded Mustalf men would come to me. I healed them without questioning, as this was part of our deal.
Two Mustalf females took a liking to me: Tethys and Eroha. Tethys looked older, perhaps around 28 in human years, and had an "older-sisterly" or motherly air to her, while Eroha, despite telling me she was 24, looked younger. The Mustalf can live up to 200 years and age twice as slowly as humans, while the Anglo-Elves live up to 130 years. Tethys knew some dark magic and liked to compare our spells. She even taught me how to draw certain sigils and circles and was always asking me to retrieve ingredients for her potions. Eroha was more playful and reckless. She liked to show me tricks with her untrained fire magic.
When we parted, the tribal elders proposed that I should stay. I refused, I'm no Mustalf, and my father still needs my help. My mother's death took its toll on him. Eroha couldn't bear to give her farewells when I turned my back to the caravan and began climbing the steep stairs to one of the many temples of Ma'at. The Archbishopric can be called a nation, I imagine. It has borders, a type of government, a self defence force... It's located on the centre of the continent and is nestled between high mountainous formations that serve as its natural borders as well as barriers against foreign invasions. However. I doubt anyone would invade it, since it has kept its neutrality since its foundation almost 500 years ago, is responsible for maintaining the Five Pillars, and serves as a haven for the disenfranchised of all races.
The way up is exhausting, but they fortunately have outposts built along the winding mountain paths, though not all of them are manned. For my first stop, I simply took out a bedroll and slept on the ground of a quite small and empty stone outpost. Even though there were people offering transportation, I decided to go on foot since I was low on money.