Jon remained in the middle of BeMare, watching Elifero and the dog grow smaller as they continued down the road toward AeMare. The crowd gradually swallowed them from view, leaving him alone amid the marketplace's constant commotion. He lingered for a moment, then turned away, rubbing his palms together as he prepared to begin his own search.
"Alright," he muttered. "Guess I should get started too."
His gaze swept across the marketplace, taking in the rows of stalls and the people weaving between them. Vendors displayed everything from food and clothing to tools and household goods, each occupied with serving customers or calling out to attract new ones. With so many people to question, Jon had no shortage of places to start, but deciding where to begin was another matter entirely. He scratched his cheek, trying to devise a sensible approach.
Where do I even start?
Then he spotted a familiar poultry stall. The same shopkeeper who had cursed him earlier stood behind the counter, occupied with a customer. Jon's expression brightened as a mischievous grin crept across his face.
Perfect.
Rather than approaching openly, Jon hunched his shoulders and slipped between the customers crowding the counter, taking advantage of their bodies to keep himself out of the seller's immediate line of sight. Once he reached the front, he studied the poultry meat with such exaggerated concentration that anyone watching might have mistaken him for a particularly serious customer. Lowering his voice slightly, he finally addressed the man.
"Hey, old man. This looks really good. How much?"
The seller barely glanced up. "One silver and three copper coins," he answered politely before returning his attention to his work.
Jon looked at the meat, then at the seller, then back at the meat, as though the price required considerable mathematical calculation. "That's really expensive for just meat. You sure you don't want to reduce the price a little?"
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"No."
"What about—"
"Meat isn't easy to come by, young man," the seller explained, still occupied with his customers. "Especially with hunters having to travel farther outside the village. If you want quality, you pay for quality."
Jon leaned closer to the counter. "Come on. Surely you could make an exception."
The man's hand stopped in the middle of his work. Something about that voice had begun to bother him. He slowly raised his head, narrowing his eyes as he examined the boy standing before him. Jon immediately redirected his attention toward the meat, pretending to be absorbed in its quality, but the seller was already studying him with growing suspicion.
"I've heard that voice before."
Jon's eyes darted away. He began edging backward, hoping to slip into the crowd before the man could place him, but the seller's expression changed as recognition finally struck.
"Oh, hell nah!"
The man reached across the stall and seized Jon by the front of his shirt, drawing the attention of several nearby customers.
"YOU!"
Jon responded with an innocent smile. "Good morning."
"What are you doing at my stall, you little sh—"
The seller caught himself before finishing the insult. His eye twitched as he took a breath, apparently attempting to exercise a degree of restraint that Jon had done nothing to deserve.
"...You little troublemaker."
Jon couldn't suppress a laugh. "Hey, at least you didn't call me a little shit this time."
"Don't tempt me."
"I'm not!"
The seller released his shirt and shoved him lightly away from the counter. "Go bother somebody else."
"Wait, wait!" Jon raised both hands, quickly trying to salvage the situation. "I'm not here to cause trouble."
The man stared at him as though he had just announced that the sky was green. Jon gave him an awkward smile before reluctantly admitting, "Okay, maybe what happened earlier looked disrespectful."
"Looked?"
"But I wasn't trying to disrespect you," Jon added hastily.
The seller folded his arms, waiting for him to explain himself. Jon's expression softened as he spoke about Elifero, the joking tone fading from his voice.
"My friend was stressed out. Really stressed. I was just trying to make him laugh."
The man's expression eased, though only slightly. Jon noticed the small change and decided it was enough to press his advantage. He leaned against the stall, trying to look as though he hadn't just been grabbed by the shirt.
"So..." He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to ask you something. That's all."
The seller regarded him for several seconds before releasing a weary sigh. "Fine."
Jon's face brightened, but the seller wasn't finished.
"But—"
Jon's smile vanished as the man pointed toward the meat. "You buy something first."
Jon blinked. "What?"
"I'm running a business, kid. You want to stand around asking questions, then buy something."
With the seller watching him expectantly, Jon slowly reached into his pocket. He searched one side, then the other, patting the fabric as though his money might have hidden itself somewhere inconvenient. Finding nothing, he checked again, growing increasingly uncomfortable under the man's unimpressed gaze. His search ended when a single copper coin slipped from his fingers and struck the ground.
Clink.
Both of them stared at it.
Jon crouched, picked up the coin, and held it between two fingers. He examined it briefly before lifting his gaze toward the seller with a hopeful smile.
"So... what can I get for one copper?"
One of the man's eyebrows rose. "One copper?"
Jon nodded enthusiastically.
The seller leaned forward, incredulity spreading across his face. "Do I look like I sell scraps and pocket change?"
Jon's smile faltered. "That's a little harsh."
"If you've only got one copper, go find another stall. Maybe someone out there has something cheap enough for you."
The man burst out laughing, leaving Jon to stare at him in disbelief.
"Come on."
"No."
"One question."
"No."
"It'll be quick."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Just one."
The seller groaned, clearly regretting ever agreeing to entertain the boy. Jon, however, remained undeterred. He leaned closer to the counter, lowering his voice as though he were about to reveal something important.
"One tiny question."
The man gave him a long, exhausted look. "Will you leave afterward?"
Jon straightened immediately. "Absolutely."
The seller sighed. "What do you want to know, kid?"
Jon's expression lit up. "Have you ever heard of a place called Oatile Village?"
The amusement disappeared from the seller's face. Jon leaned forward expectantly, hoping the change in expression meant he had finally found someone who could help.
"And if you have, do you know where it is?"
The man scratched the side of his neck, searching his memory. He looked upward and fell silent, his eyes narrowing as he tried to recall whether he had encountered the name before. Jon watched him closely, holding his breath for an answer.
"...Well?" he prompted.
The seller continued thinking. Jon leaned farther over the counter.
"Well?"
The man rubbed his hair. "Mhm..."
Jon's hopeful expression gradually faded as the silence stretched between them. At last, the seller shook his head.
"No. Don't think I've ever heard of a place by that name."
Jon's shoulders slumped. He had expected the answer after Elifero's unsuccessful attempts to find information the previous day, but knowing what was coming didn't make the disappointment any easier to swallow.
"Oh."
He pushed himself away from the stall. "Well... thanks anyway."
"Shoo, kid."
Jon took a step before turning back, his face twisting with disbelief. "Seriously?"
"Didn't you promise to leave?"
Jon paused, then reluctantly conceded the point. "...Fair."
He turned away and surveyed the marketplace properly for the first time since arriving. Stalls stretched along the street in every direction, each surrounded by customers and run by a different seller. Beyond them lay houses, side streets, and still more people who might know something about Oatile. Approaching every individual one by one would take an unreasonable amount of time, and he had no guarantee that the effort would yield anything useful.
Jon planted his hands on his waist and let out a frustrated sigh.
"...This is going to take forever."
He pictured himself moving from stall to stall, asking the same question, receiving the same puzzled expression, and then trudging toward the next person. At this rate, the sun would probably disappear behind the mountains before he finished searching BeMare.
"This isn't going to work."
His gaze wandered toward the road Elifero and the dog had taken. He wondered how they were managing in AeMare, and whether the central district might offer them better luck. A small smile appeared as he scratched the back of his head.
"Heh. Guess I'm the one who needs help now."
If one person couldn't cover the marketplace quickly enough, he would simply need more people. Fortunately, Jon knew exactly where to find them, although the place he had in mind might not have been the most respectable gathering spot in the village.
He set off toward a large tree standing near his usual gambling location. Its branches spread above the surrounding buildings, and the village bell could be seen in the distance from that part of the street. As Jon approached, the familiar surroundings stirred memories of the previous day: the dice tumbling across a makeshift playing surface, the copper coins changing hands, and his frustration after losing yet again. He also remembered the strange boy who had watched him from a distance before their paths crossed.
Jon slowed, a faint smile touching his lips.
"That really was yesterday, huh?"
Somehow, it felt as though much more time had passed.
His gaze travelled farther down the street until it settled near Shank's Tavern, where four familiar boys had gathered around a battered crate. Its surface was covered with scratches and markings left by countless games, and a die bounced across the top while copper coins changed hands almost as quickly as it stopped rolling. The boys were thoroughly absorbed in their gambling, their attention fixed on the outcome of each throw.
Jon's grin widened.
There they were.
He approached casually and stopped beside them. "Hey, guys."
Nobody acknowledged him. The die rolled across the crate, one boy collected his winnings, and the game continued as though Jon weren't standing there.
He waited a moment before trying again. "...Guys?"
Still nothing.
Jon frowned. "Come on. I'm talking to you."
"Get lost."
The curt response made him flinch.
"Oh."
The boys returned to their game, leaving Jon awkwardly hovering beside them. He rubbed the back of his neck and attempted a small, uncomfortable laugh, hoping someone would eventually acknowledge him.
"Hehe..."
Nothing.
"Seriously? You guys aren't going to talk to me?" He looked from one boy to the next. "I thought we were friends."
One of them snorted.
Jon reconsidered his wording. "Okay, maybe not friends."
The die bounced against the crate.
"Gambling friends?"
Nobody answered.
"Gambling acquaintances?"
One boy finally raised his head, his expression flat with irritation.
"Stop acting oblivious."
Jon blinked at him. The boy's serious expression suggested that this was no ordinary bout of sulking.
"You know what you did."
Jon pointed at himself. "Me?"
The boy stared.
Jon offered an uncertain smile. "...I actually don't."
All four boys stopped playing. One slowly placed the die on the crate, while another leaned back and regarded Jon with disbelief.
"You really don't remember?"
Jon shook his head.
The boy exhaled through his nose. "There's one important rule when we gamble."
Jon's expression shifted as the memory returned to him.
Ah.
"You don't leave in the middle of a game while people still have money to bet," the boy reminded him.
Jon looked away, suddenly fascinated by something on the ground.
"And if you decide to leave anyway," another boy added, folding his arms, "you pay everyone still playing a coin before you go."
Jon scratched his cheek.
"You didn't," the first boy finished.
"About that..."
"By the time we looked for you, you'd disappeared into that passageway with some random kid," another boy said. He snickered before adding, "And now that he ditched you, you've come crawling back to us."
The four burst into laughter, thoroughly enjoying their own explanation.
Jon stared at them for a moment before shaking his head. "Nah."
Their laughter gradually subsided.
"He didn't leave."
Jon crouched beside the crate, resting his arms on his knees. "I'm actually helping him with something."
That finally caught their attention.
"Helping him?"
Jon nodded, and the playful expression on his face gave way to something more serious.
"He doesn't remember how he got here. He knows his name, and he remembers where he's from. Or at least, he thinks he does." He lowered his gaze briefly before continuing. "The problem is that nobody seems to know where his village is."
One of the boys frowned. "What's it called?"
"Oatile."
The name drew no recognition from any of them. Jon wasn't surprised, but the lack of response only reinforced the problem he had been facing all morning.
"I've been asking around, but BeMare's too big for me to cover alone." He looked at the four boys. "So I need help."
Silence settled over the group. One boy glanced at the others, another scratched his nose, and the one nearest the crate rolled the die between his fingers while considering the request. Eventually, one of them broke the silence.
"We're not helping you."
Jon blinked.
The boy continued, "We'll help the kid."
Another nodded. "Poor guy's lost."
A third shrugged. "Better we help him get home than have him wandering around until he ends up like us."
Jon raised an eyebrow. "...What's wrong with you guys?"
All four stared at him.
He immediately raised his hands. "Never mind."
The grey-haired boy stood and approached, resting a firm hand on Jon's shoulder.
"We ain't doing this for you."
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."
The boy tightened his grip, making Jon look up at him.
"And I still expect yesterday's payment."
Jon's smile froze.
"Hehe..."
"Don't 'hehe' me."
Jon laughed nervously. "I'll get it to you."
"When?"
"Eventually."
"Jon."
"Let's focus on helping the lost child!"
Before the grey-haired boy could continue interrogating him about his debt, Jon sprang to his feet and headed toward the marketplace.
"Come on! We're wasting daylight!"
The other four followed, and the five boys soon dispersed across BeMare to cover as much ground as possible. One took the eastern stalls, another moved toward the houses, and two searched along opposite sides of the marketplace. Jon claimed the central stretch, determined to make better progress with help than he had managed alone.
Their question travelled from one end of BeMare to the other: Oatile Village. Had anyone heard of it? Did anyone know where it was? Had anyone ever met a person who came from there?
The answers, however, remained stubbornly familiar.
"No."
"Never heard of it."
"Oatile? Can't say I have."
"Sorry."
Jon moved between stalls and houses, questioning vendors, residents, and anyone else who looked as though they might have useful information. The search quickly became a monotonous cycle of asking, listening, thanking, and moving on. Whenever one of the boys crossed paths with him, Jon only needed to glance at their faces to know they had found nothing either.
As the hours slipped by, his optimism began to wear thin. He stopped beside the road and wiped the sweat from his forehead, allowing his thoughts to wander toward possibilities he had tried to avoid.
Maybe Elifero remembered the name wrong.
It was possible. Memory loss could do strange things, and perhaps the name he remembered wasn't entirely accurate. Maybe Oatile was a town rather than a village, or perhaps it lay so far from Eman that nobody there had ever travelled close enough to hear of it.
The possibilities kept multiplying until Jon finally forced himself to stop.
"No."
There was no point making assumptions without evidence. Elifero remembered the name Oatile, and until they had a reason to doubt him, Jon would keep searching.
He glanced toward the sky. They still had time, but not much.
Come on.
Someone has to know something.
"HEY!"
The sudden shout snapped Jon out of his thoughts. He whipped around and spotted one of the boys farther down the marketplace, waving both arms to attract their attention.
"GUYS!"
The others turned at once.
"RIGHT HERE!"
Jon's heart leapt. He broke into a run, and the others hurried toward the same stall from different directions. Within moments, all five had gathered around it, squeezing through the crowd to see what had happened.
Jon pushed between two of them. "What happened?"
The boy who had called them pointed excitedly toward the stall owner.
"This guy."
Jon raised his eyes.
Behind the counter stood a surprisingly young man surrounded by an assortment of masks. Some had been carved from wood, while others appeared to be made from unfamiliar materials. Human faces mingled with animal designs, their expressions ranging from cheerful smiles to unsettling distortions. Arranged in rows across the stall, their hollow eyes seemed to follow the passing crowd. The young seller looked increasingly uncomfortable as five boys crowded around his merchandise, but Jon scarcely noticed the unusual display. His attention was fixed on the man himself.
The boy beside him grinned.
"He knows the place."
Jon went still.
For hours, he had heard the same disappointing answers. Never heard of it. Don't know. Sorry. Each rejection had chipped away at his confidence, until he had begun to wonder whether their search would lead anywhere at all. Now, after all that fruitless questioning, someone had finally recognized the name.
Jon stepped closer to the counter. The humour that had carried him through the morning disappeared from his expression, replaced by an anxious anticipation he could no longer hide.
"Oatile Village?"
The young seller met his gaze, then nodded.
"Yeah."
Jon's eyes widened.
"I know it."