"Rentilaco is a territory in the Confederation of Tarna built around an ancient ruin that was remade into a collection of several interconnected caves." Naph read that on one of the posters in the city.
These posters were tidbits of information all posted around the city by Rentilaco's Public Library to attract people to the library. The information on the posters was always meant to entice knowledge seekers and curious people to come and take a look into what book and where a poster's information came from.
This always worked. Even he himself had been attracted by it the last time, the very same poster he just read.
He recalled another memory of visiting Rentilaco's Public Library. A giant four storey building topped with two domes. Inside of it was filled to the brim with shelves over shelves.
The scent of old and new books wafted through the halls, galleries and rooms of the library.
He was once again enticed by it but he remembered he had to get to the ferry today.
And the important item before it was to get bags for all his belongings, and his special passenger.
One more runner ran towards him from behind in the crowd of Rentilaco. The runner lost the knife and was scared to death because for just a split second he felt he was in a chaotic mad world. His instincts, mind and heart raced him away from the boy.
The grey haired boy gaining another new knife considered its sharpness. "Not as sharp as the one I use, but it will be enough."
He needed new equipment and a lot of it, if he wanted to find a continent in the western direction. One that will have something that could help his desire to save Sevenren.
Anaphol condemned the time he had before the ferry. It was expected to depart in two hours. Not enough time to run to the library and get some more knowledge on if there is a western continent.
"I'll reroute myself after getting to the Island of Monite." Naph murmured to himself.
'I need to find if there had been any knowledge on the existence of a continent westward.' His reminder kept ramming along his other thoughts.
Rentilaco was a semi-developed city as claimed by the city's proclamation. One of it was happening on the street he was on.
The cobbled street housed homes with tiled roofs and raised ground floors. The structures were true indication of this city's survival against sudden floods and tsunamis.
Words that Naph hadn't known he learned from the same book that talked of the ancient ruins of Rentilaco.
Those ruins today lied outside the current city boundary. But they could still be spotted if someone were to look in that direction.
Naph had walked for more than quarter of an hour. He needed to spend his time more fruitfully.
He brisk walked towards the proclamation. A march as well was happening on the same crossroad from another street. It was more common for crossroads to be used as a spot to declare a proclamation than to walk all around the city.
Officials just went to the highly expected populated crossroad to deliver the speech, proclamation or announcement. The announcement concerned the march happening from the street that intersected this cobbled street.
"We, the Principality of Rentilaco support the government of Confederation of Tarna's decision to curb the insurgents in Sevenren. A brethren territory of ours and our trusted partner in trade. We support by sending our troops. And here are the brave warriors chosen to fight off the three enemy states!"
The announcer showed zealous behavior that reverberated through the collected crowd.
"The boy named Anapahol, a bounty collector and hero of Tarna, who died fighting and winning against the tyrannical Bulwark as claimed by Sevenren has been marked to be a traitor." The crowd gasped at the names.
"Reason you may ask? He had been a crucial piece in destabilizing the city of Sevenren by instigating a riot. The boy may have done good deed by killing Bulwark. But he also set the stage for the invasion from Streno, Thryesco and Southern Regda!"
The reasoning of the official was coated in truth but so was it filled with lies. Naph was right here.
'So, I am dead. Huh.' He noted.
The official pointed to the march with all his glorious garb reflecting and twinkling in the light. The reds accentuated the gold while the whites at the ends were made to replicate in the imagery of the Prince of Rentilaco.
Rentilaco was a principality ran by a prince who had fought away his parents desire to conquer the Confederation of Tarna. And in return, the Confederation let the prince govern the city and the territory.
A generous agreement with several strings.
Naph thought on one more thing he had listened, 'Hey, my name isn't Anapahol! It's Anaphol! Get it right.'
He so wished to scream. But the marching warriors had arrived. All of them wore something that had a mix of brown, black and green.
Their rides were wagons, some were pedaling vehicles, and none showcased speed or lightness as his own ride. His mind contemplated on the strangeness.
'My ride is more efficient but it was made millennia ago. So how could the recent ones be so bad?' His mind pictured the mechanical ride against every vehicle he saw.
None were as lightweight as his, yet the design of his ride was simpler and easier to replicate. Even he himself had replicated it more than four times. 'All hidden well across Sevenren.'
He smiled—then a horror kicked in. "Oh, no! My rides!" He voiced out.
He remembered the places in Sevenren he had hidden his ride's copies. He planned it before fighting and killing Bulwark.
A few people gave him a few curious looks. So did the nearest warriors, a few did stop and looked at that neon jacket and grey hair with a duffle bag.
They recognized him. Pointed to him, but the general leading the warriors who also recognized Naph. Stared at the boy, nodded to him and instructed the warriors aloud, "Keep moving warriors! We may not save the city of Sevenren but we sure as hell not let the territory be owned by those rascals! Who are we?!"
The warriors understood the hidden meaning, they didn't understand it well. Yet trust in the general was higher than their own judgment.
"Warriors of the Principality!" The echo boomed over the crossroad. The announcer's voice drowned under it.
Naph was gone under the death of the boom.
He had slipped away from that street through the march. His neon jacket intermixed well with the baggages of the marching warriors. He was let in by the warriors.
Whether Naph understood the general or not, he had felt his stare. And it told him enough.
The general could have easily arrested Naph but he and possibly the principality of Rentilaco were under pressure to frame the boy for the failures of the government of Tarna.
Naph didn't sabotage anything just passed right through the marching platoon to rid himself of the pursuers. He was now more than certain that the pursuers were the underbelly of Rentilaco, and no true assassin will come after him.
Not after this subtle show of solidarity between Naph and the platoon of Rentilaco. The announcer may have even spotted Anaphol but he just was spouting non-sense as usual he himself probably didn't believe.
Anaphol considered the proclamation as he hid and ran among the warriors. None stopping him.
His consideration only led him to simple conclusions that was hinted through the announcement and the actions of his pursuers. People just probably wanted his duffle bag more.
Naph winded away from the street, ending up ever closer to the Rentilaco's public Library. Another quarter wasted, but it did clear up several standings of the city on the matter.
He had found a baggage and clothes store close to the library. "Glad it was still open," he mouthed.
Going in and then coming out after a couple of minutes later. Naph bought four identical bags same as his duffle bag. All paid and several more thousand Tarna notes exchanged for smaller change.
He was going to need change, not the large bag of money he had been lugging around.
Another passerby was silently approaching Naph, when the passerby stumbled because she felt as if she had been transferred to a chaotic mad spinning colored world.
Naph's trick of saying cata in his thoughts had been working well, but he was now feeling more exhausted. He wanted a bit to chow down on.
But he had to consider several situations. His rides were at different points of the city, he had been away from Bulwark's dead body for more than an hour and a half. He needed to return to her, and get her as well as his ride to the ferry.
And these baggages he just bought were crucial to the plan for the ferry. He took out his ferry ticket from the duffle bag. Clever place to hide it, and keep himself reminding where everything is.
The ticket read, "Ferry from Rentilaco to Central Monite, Island of Monite. 2:30. 1 passenger with luggage."
It was just about twenty minutes past twelve.