While Riordan was making his way through the corridors of the palace aiming for the exit, flashes of the arguments he recently was into repeated in his mind. He tried his best to set such disturbances aside but he cannot control his subconscious that eagerly welcomed the unwanted thoughts. He preoccupied himself by marveling at the exquisite interior enveloping his journey. The wondrous depictions of royalties and historic events awakened within him the idea of his very own history.
Riordan does not know who his parents are. Nobody told him, not even his uncle whom he lived with before he was left alone in the borders of Xaphy. Four years ago, he decided to bury the mystery of his family and resorted to live a new life with his master Bartoc. Since then, he did not pursue answers to the questions of his biography. He was contented of his present life and forced himself to forget his mysterious past.
Then it dawned upon him that his mysterious past might as well provide adequate answers to the questions that faced him lately. What if he indeed was somebody yesterday whom the people he had only counseled with needed the most? Yet he thought again and realized that it could not be. His uncle was a merchant – a very wealthy merchant in Fypto, but that was all he was. Riordan found no means by which he might be related to either of the people in the room he had only left or the secrets they have only argued over. The thoughts consumed Riordan so much that he forgot he was still inside the palace. It was after a moment when he realized he lost his way.
The baker's assistant stopped. He dragged his vista away from the beautiful paintings that adorn the walls, and looked before him. There lay a lengthy path fading into darkness. He looked behind him and witnessed the same. Probably disturbed by the fact that he was assured of the route he was taking nonetheless surprised by the unexpected visions of unending corridors, he started to panic. He ran back to the direction from where he came but his efforts seemed to bring him to no avail. He still cannot see either ends of the hall.
"Riordan!" he heard a female voice calling out his name. The sound started low but began to increase its volume as it echoed all around the lad. It was the strangest audition he heard so far since the voice seemed to chill his very bones.
"Now what?" the young man responded to the call. He was scared but was pretending to be unafraid.
"You cannot run away from your destiny," the eerie voice replied. "It is written that Ethyr will hand her fate over to your hands. If you so desire to keep your conscience clear of this, then the kingdom itself will lose a future. Consider, Riordan, since these things do not only occur as you wish but as it is well for you and those you love."
"I cannot be a hero; I am only a street lad. If you wish, then request any young man learned in the virtues of chivalry and warfare. There is nothing I cannot give since I own none!" Riordan exclaimed with tears beginning to form in his eyes. He cannot keep his fear longer. He could not pretend anymore.
"It is not chivalry or military wisdom that is being sought for, Riordan." The voice continued ignorant of the boy's unease. It thundered over him once more in words that say, "Understand that not any of these skills and properties could parallel what you carry in your heart. Have you not thought about it? Your kingdom has been defending itself from the assaults of the West with all military expertise for years. Why can it not defeat Uxx? That is because they do not possess what you do."
"And that is?" Riordan asked.
"Know yourself, Riordan, the answer lies within."
Riordan observed as the voice began to fade into silence. He breathed deep recovering his courage. Tears were wiped out of his face by his pretentious hands while he wondered expecting that everything would soon return to normal after the strange encounter. However, things did not go as he expected. When there was absolute tranquility, a blinding light emerged from both ends of the hall. Riordan, saving his eyes from pain, covered them with the shade of his hands. Realizing it was not enough and that his eyes were beginning to ache, he closed them and eventually fell, unconscious, to the marble floor.
Two days passed, Jiro, alongside Dmitri, asked for the patriarch's permission to visit the baker and his assistant. After the ecclesiastic granted what they wished, the two acolytes mounted each on a horse and travelled towards their destination.
Dmitri was not informed about what happened two nights passed, but then he was aware, through the deciphering of Jiro's looks, that the latter intends to express another sorry. He quietly observed as his fellow acolyte looked far before him with eyes heavy of guilt. The younger knew something was wrong but he dared not intervene rather allowed the elder to be engulfed in the serenity of his pacific stroll.
After a while of traversing the busy streets of Gobhy, the two cassocked teens finally arrived at the entrance of Mia's house. The door was closed. Jiro dismounted and approached the door, then a knock. It took a minute or so, enough time for the other acolyte to dismount and join his friend, before the homeowner opened the entry.
"Pax, Mistress Bresse," Jiro greeted garnering a surprised look from the woman who was not used to hear her name that way. "We came seeking Riordan. Is he in?"
Mia smilingly replied, "Dear acolytes, the boy you are looking for has left with you the other night. He did not return since then. His master too has left for Solatrix yesterday. I did not expect you to come over and search for any of them."
Surprised, Jiro told her, "We had a small talk that night, but when it was about midnight, Riordan left. I did not follow him assuming he only went back here for repose."
"But he did not," the woman replied. Puzzled by the thought, she scratched her silver hair and shrugged in wonder.
The acolyte sighed and looked far away for a moment. Then he told the woman: "Thank you ma'am, I guess there is nothing more with which you can help. I am glad you gave us this information." Without waiting for the woman's answer, the elder acolyte turned back, mounted his horse and started to leave.
Dmitri followed behind his companion after he received the final words of Mia. "The woman supposed that the boy went home to Solatrix with his master," Dmitri told Jiro as he was catching up.
"I think I do not have to follow or look for him anymore."
"You lost a friend in an improper way. Will that not disturb you? If you indeed wish to depart from his life, then you might as well conduct your leave in a mannerly behavior."
"Time is precious," Jiro answered his companion. "Things are not working in a way that they must anymore, Dmitri. You might not be able to understand me now, but soon, time will also come when you will know why I wish not to look for the lad any further."
Sadly, the two led their horses to the direction of the cathedral. As Jiro's horse started to step away, the commotion that lingered in his thoughts and died two nights ago resurrected. He became guilty about what might have occurred to Riordan. Then, he remembered what happened that night.
After Riordan left the room, Lord Argyle dismissed the assembly. He demanded for the substantiation of his original plans not recognizing the interruption of the gypsy. Ten days remain before the army was to leave and the Protector knew he could not waste time pondering on the possibility of the gypsy's claims. Yet the gypsy insisted. She angrily walked out of the room with her childish companion cursing what she referred to was an ignorant argument.
Halfway their short journey, Jiro stopped and thought. Then, he turned his direction and started towards the lieu where he knew he could find Euri's tent. "Where are we going now?" Dmitri asked. Then he was confident that his suspicions were true. However, there was no reply. Thus the younger cannot do anything but follow the lead of his companion.
Two turns and they came to the place. Surprisingly however, the street was empty. There were no more tents standing there nor are they any line of eager customers. What remained was the litter left by the huge crowd that occupied the space the previous nights.
"She sure disappeared very suddenly," Dmitri commented. He knew Jiro understood to whom he referred; nonetheless, he waited for the response of the acolyte who acted obnoxious since the day before.
"Strange," Jiro spoke. Then he moved towards the patriarch's palace. Slightly disappointed with a reply that did not seem to him an appropriate comment, the younger acolyte followed. He maintained a particular distance between their horses, and troubled his own self with the question about what troubles his fellow.
The elder acolyte was still wondering what could have happened to the baker's assistant. He pondered over the question as they progressed, feeling guilty, since he considered himself the cause of Riordan's loss. Then an idea lingered in his head as he turned to see the deserted part of the city where Euri's tent used to stand fade into the distant background.
Dmitri noticed. He turned to face the area himself. Seeing nothing but the hope that sparkled in Jiro's eyes the moment he altered his vista to the lad before him, the younger acolyte sighed. He knew it was not the time for fate to disclose the answer to his queries but he was motivated that soon it shall dawn upon him.
By the moment Riordan opened his eyes, it was nearing noon. The first thing he saw was the white canvas that obviously blocked his view of the clear sunny sky. He was not able to move yet, but further observance confirmed that he was lying inside a wagon on the journey.
He thought the situation strange. The last time he remembered himself was in the labyrinth halls of the Amaranth Palace struggling against a blinding light that came from nowhere. Then he was inside a wagon. He though the owner of the strange voice he heard transported him into this strange place. Yet he was scared enough to accept the assumption.
The baker's assistant have often heard about magic from the storytellers that visit Carthen. He listened as they colorfully described how this mysterious force was used by mages in the past. He learned that such people were banished long ago when the Ethyrian Church sued witches. The idea reassured him that what happened to him could not be any form of magic.
Therefore, magic disregarded, he assumed everything was a dream and that the wagon was that of Bartoc travelling westwards to Carthen. This comforted him.
Recovering his strength, Riordan sat down and moved his eyes around the small interior of the travelling vehicle. There was not much inside – just a few jars of water, a bundle of bread and clothes folded neatly above one another. He crawled towards the front opening and parted the linen flaps that served as its doors. Before him he saw a horse over which sat a familiar figure – the little boy who joined the gypsy.
He was surprised. He knew such was not what he expected. All his hopes seemed to have waned by then. He wished to reach out for the boy and grab him, but his body proved weak. Riordan could not do anything but sigh and wait.
Euri's voice was heard from behind him. "So you are awake," said the woman who was making her way through the flaps on the other end of the wagon.
"Why am I in here?" He asked her calmly. He knew he could not be calmer, but he forced himself to hide his fear and face the situation that bowed before him.
"Ah…I can see you aren't as stubborn as you are the other night anymore. You seem to speak with a gentler tone."
"The other night?" Riordan was shocked. He knew it only happened the previous night. He could not seem to understand the occurrences well. "Please do make things clear."
The woman explained while preparing bread for her guest's breakfast, "You have been unconscious for two days, young man." Riordan turned to her in disbelief. She smiled, gentle enough not to scare him, and said, "Allow me to relate what I know happened. Moments after you left that night, the courtier dismissed the assembly. Jericho and I were making our way towards the exit when we found you unconscious on the way. Instead of handing you over to the authorities who seemed to be hardheaded, we resorted to keep you. I know it would seem unmannerly of us, but we thought it better for you to stay under our custody."
"And where are you bringing me?"
"We left Gobhy immediately after we got you. I have no clear plans for now, since a lot of things were altered considering the original plan."
"I want to return to my master," the lad demanded. He was beginning to lose his patient self under his fear.
"You cannot anymore," the gypsy replied. "He had left for Solatrix, and besides, we are too far away from Gobhy for you to travel back. Feel comfortable among us, young man, since, temporarily, we will serve as your home."
Riordan knew there was no use for further arguments, therefore, regardless the fact that things remained incomprehensible for him, he agreed to Euri's scheme that is yet unstable. He took the breakfast given him and retired to a sleep hoping he wakes up back in the comfort of Bartoc's company.
When it was nearing twilight, Jericho called out, "Princepolis is on sight!" Euri heard the boy and rushed to wake Riordan who was asleep since after they took their lunch. When the lad was awake, she reported that they would be staying in Princepolis for the mean time. Riordan gasped for air the moment he realized he was with the same people in the same carriage. Such was real, he thought, and there was nothing else he can do but to live on what is.
"I am not very familiar with geography," Riordan responded, trying to hide his disappointment, "I do not think I can identify this city's exact location."
"You need not to," the woman kindly answered, "but if you wish to know, inquire and I shall give you information."
"Very well then, please tell me enough about this place that I may not look as if an alien to this lieu." This Riordan told her, not primarily to beseech as he had said, but to make up an escape plan. He wished to spot his location so that he can bring himself away from the strange companions that night when they engage in sleep.
The gypsy smiled back at the young man and started telling him stories about the seaside city while they helped each other arrange the contents of the wagon. She was aware about Riordan's thoughts but she handled the situation in a manner she thought would be apt.
"Princepolis is a city established a few decades after the creation of Fostwa. It was believed then that this is the second oldest settlement in all of Ethyr. It stands divided into two such that the less populated portion occupied the coast and the other half rests upon an island separated from mainland by a portion of the Eastern Sea. Princepolis is famous for its fishing industry, the floating village, and the legend of the sea monster."
Then Riordan's focus was diverted by his curiosity. "Sea monster?"
Smilingly, for things were working out as she wished, the woman replied, "I assume you have not heard about the account."
"Do not assume I know so much. I am an orphan whose eyes were opened in the streets of Solatrix; what knowledge do you expect from me?" Then in shame, he bowed his head. The thoughts of the escape were beginning to fade. Princepolis seemed to be an interesting city and his companions are rightfully experienced and apt for a young man who craved for adventures such as him.
"Very well," the gypsy replied understanding that the boy wanted to hear of the tale, but secretly luring him into agreeing with their company, "I am going to tell you about this famous event. It happened nearly two decades ago. In the monastery of Mount Gratis, there once lived a very old abbot whose hobby was to stay by the eastern balcony – right on top of the raging seashore. One time, while the abbot was making his afternoon nap, he heard an unusual sound coming from the sea below him. He looked out and saw what seemed like a giant lizard with transparent skin. Fired with audacity, he called over the monster and prayed it to leave the city undisturbed. Almost immediately, the creature replied to the abbot's plea. It looked at the monk for a moment, turned around and started its way back to the horizon. The abbot immediately publicized the occurrence and many people thought it was an omen."
"Did nobody ever question if the abbot only made up the story?" Riordan asked forgetting almost completely his uneasiness.
"The abbot is the second highest-ranking authority of the Ethyrian church, it is then inappropriate for anybody to doubt him; his position firstly proved him invulnerable to distrust."
Riordan nodded. It was clear that he got the message as it was delivered. Moreover, it was clear that he need not to be afraid of his companions. He shifted his view and questioned, "You said many people thought it was an omen, did it actually prove itself as one? I mean, had there been any ill event that followed the apparition?"
"Mount Gratis refuses to admit that it ever adjudged the occurrence as an omen, however many believed the verity that it is, since a few months succeeding the event, the abbot and the city's governor died consecutively. Even later – about a year had gone, the Royal Court proclaimed the illegibility of Queen Celina's reign resulting to the ascent of Troy into kingship. All these were considered by the citizens of Princepolis as a result of the sea monster's coming."
Riordan was silent. The escape was making its way back into his thoughts, but he dismissed it when they were interrupted. The wagon came to a stop.
Euri stood up and checked out to see what caused their halt. Riordan followed close behind her peeking out his head while the woman descended the vehicle. They were in the gate of Princepolis and sentries were asking what business such strangers intend to achieve in the city.
Riordan was amazed by how beautifully the gates of the city were made. He observed the intricate carving of shells and mermaids populating its bronze panels. Then there grew in him a drive to see what was behind the gates.
"I do not think my master will be too worried," he said to himself.
Jericho looked back hearing the boy's voice. He smiled in greeting and turned his attention back to Euri who was mingling with the guards.
They did not look untrustworthy. Euri and Jericho just cannot be feared. Riordan pulled himself back inside the wagon and sighed. Then he dismissed all other thoughts in his head but that which entices him to join the fortuneteller in whatever adventure awaits.
After a short explanation about their occupation as fortunetellers, the sentries allowed their entry and opened the gates only as wide enough as for the wagon to fit.
Within the walls of the seaside city, the wagon moved in a slower pace. So as not to arouse the curiosity of onlookers, Euri took charge of the horses while Jericho stayed inside the enclosure with Riordan. As their journey progressed towards the heart of the settlement, the sun sank behind the darkened silhouettes of the western hills and the populace was beginning to light up torches both within and outside their abodes.
Riordan asked Jericho where they are planning to stay that night. Jericho told him that Euri, who originally resided in Princepolis, wishes to visit the family she had left years ago. In this regard, the household will serve as their temporary abode while they seek answers for their next step.
"The gypsy had told me stories about her past while we were in the journey," Riordan said, "but I have not heard so much about you. May I hear your own history for the purpose of friendship?"
Ever since he witnessed the boy appear on the carriage two nights ago, Riordan never really found an answer to the question of why the boy seemed to be so strange. He had been observing Jericho since then, but never seemed to have found the answer. Such was the time for him to understand, so Riordan believed.
Jericho smiled back at him and replied, "If I tell you about my yesterdays, will you promise me that you will keep it safe behind your lips inasmuch as the gypsy did so before Kalcifer honored our companionship?" Riordan nodded.
The boy arranged himself such that his legs were comfortably extended before him and related, "I have not unfolded this verity outside the borders of Faia, but since I doubt the temporariness of our bond, then I would do so for you. Do you know about the Qusors?" The street lad nodded in reply remembering the stories he heard in Carthen. "Riordan, I am a Qusor." Riordan's face altered in disbelief. "However, do not fear me, since I have brought myself in the service of the good. I am from a tribe of the Qusors that was established at the time when Sylvester led the second attempt to bring down Ethyr. Our tribe was created against the evil Qusors and we were the reason for their second defeat. It was our tribe which surrendered to Faia and unfolded tactics practiced by the West. Since then, the monarchs of Faia promised to protect our tribe and offered to shelter us within their territory."
The puzzled look evident in Riordan's visage proved his misapprehension of certain concepts in the Qusor's statement. Jericho understood what it meant and intended to make things clear, however even before he could make up a word, the wagon made a stop.