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((Triple Monday -- Page 2 of 3))
“Ettol. Okay. Good to meet you, Ettol. I am Parson Miles.”

“A pleasure, is it?”

Parson tilted his brow a little. “Y-yes? It is a pleasure to meet you, yes.”

“Thank you, cedo.”

“You are... welcome. Ettol, do you know where you are, right now?”

“I am searching.”

“Yes, but do you know where you are? Can you tell me what country you are in?”

The man was quiet a moment, perhaps thinking, yet he never removed his gaze from Parson’s face. “Angdolia,’ he said.

“Angdolia?” What a confusing answer. Was that even a word? Parson needed to make sure he was understanding what he was hearing. “You think you’re in a country called Angdolia, right now?”

“Yes. This is Angdolia.”

“No,” said Parson slowly. “No, it isn’t. This is Calthos. Do you know where Calthos is?”

Ettol didn’t answer him this time. Instead, he merely looked around, as if examining his surroundings anew.

Parson took a breath. This was going to be an excruciatingly slow and difficult conversation, wasn’t it? “I don’t know what you--”

‘He’s not entirely wrong,’ interrupted Overra privately.

Parson didn’t turn to look at her. ‘What?’

‘Two thousand years ago, this region used to be called Angdolia.’

At that information, he couldn’t help blinking a couple times. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying exactly what I said. This placed used to be known as Angdolia. Make of that what you will, but ask him something else, first.’

Parson’s expression flickered with sudden doubt mixed among the confusion. “Ettol?”

The man looked at him again. “Yes, Parson?”

That gaze. There was something different in it now, Parson felt. The man’s hazel eyes seemed a bit brighter. More open. More alert. More inquisitive, even.

Parson found that strangely unsettling, somehow.

“Why are you wandering around out here by yourself?” asked Parson.

Ettol tilted his head, thinking again. “I am not sure.”

“Are you lost?”

“Lost? Perhaps I am. Yes. Lost.”

“You said you were searching for someone.”

“Did I?”

“...Yes, you did.”

“I see. Who am I searching for?”

“I was hoping you would be able to tell me that.”

“I see. You are very helpful, aren’t you, Parson Miles? Good. That’s very good.”

Parson’s eyes narrowed. “I’m glad you think so. What is your full name, Ettol?”

“Full? Is the name Ettol not full?”

“Assuming Ettol is your first name, then no, it isn’t. What is your last name?”

“Ah. You mean like yourself, Parson Miles. I do not think I have one of those. I am only Ettol, I am afraid.”

Parson sized the man up another time. His appearance was unremarkable, sure, but there was something about him that he didn’t like.

“You seem displeased, Parson Miles.”

Parson couldn’t really deny that. He didn’t wish to admit it, either, however.