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墨書 Inktalez
Rayal's gaze shuttles through the shadows like a nocturnal owl, searching for any opportunity that can be exploited. The shadows of the city walls resemble a series of doorways, each potentially concealing an opportunity to enter the city or a waiting trap. He must be cautious and clever to remain undefeated in this urban chess game.
The darkness between the streetlights becomes his best friend, and the concealed corners seem to whisper to him, guiding him to evade the guards' gaze. Rayal steps lightly on the cobblestone streets, each step silent, as if his feet were covered in feathers. The shadows under the city walls form an invisible barrier, temporarily concealing him from this city filled with light and order.
As he approached the city gate, he discovered a glimmer of hope. A caravan seemed to be preparing to end a long day of travel, with their long line of carriages stretching along the road to the city gate, awaiting the final entry inspection. The guards' attention was mostly focused on inspecting the front of the caravan, where the light was as bright as day, carefully scrutinizing the faces of every merchant and traveler.
Rayal took advantage of the night and the guards' negligence to quietly approach the rear of the caravan. He found that while the front of the caravan was heavily guarded, the area near the carriages was relatively lax. Most people's attention was focused on the front, hoping to pass through smoothly, and there were hardly any guards lingering at the rear.
Rayal tiptoed around a cart loaded with goods. He held his breath, observing his surroundings, waiting for the best opportunity to hide. Moonlight shone on the cloth covering the cart, casting a deep shadow. In a moment unnoticed by anyone, he quickly crouched and slipped into the space beneath the cart.
Hidden under the cart, he could hear his own rapid heartbeat and the heavy sound of hooves on the ground. Just inches above him was the cart's bed, leaving him with no place to hide if someone were to bend down. But on a night like this, everyone was more concerned about their safety and their desire to enter the city, and no one would notice the tense hiding Wanderer under the cart.
Hidden under the carriage, Rayal seemed to blend into the shadows of the night. Surrounding him were sounds of panic, with frantic footsteps moving rapidly on the muddy road, seemingly racing against time. Amidst the clamor of voices and chaotic footsteps, Rayal maintained absolute silence and concealment, his body pressed tightly against the cold carriage floor, feeling every vibration transmitted from the earth. He skillfully utilized every inch of the vehicle's structure, gripping the axle tightly with his hands to steady himself, while deftly balancing his feet on the slightly protruding footholds, like a tightrope walker. The swaying of the carriage made his position precarious, but he knew it was the only way to enter the city undetected.
The space under the carriage was narrow and damp, but for Rayal, who longed to escape the watchful eyes, it was the safest refuge. His clothes were already damp with mud, and his arms and knees ached from prolonged pressure. But all this discomfort was overshadowed by his determination and thirst for freedom.
He could hear the sound of the guard's armor in the night wind, the successive patrols making one's heart race, but Rayal knew he couldn't make the slightest movement. Any mistake could lead to his capture. Just then, he heard the rapid and rhythmic footsteps of the merchant approaching, followed by a flurry of anxious conversation. The merchant's voice carried anxiety and deference, as if in front of the guard, he was nothing more than a humble servant.
"This is our pass, sir. We come from the north, bearing spices and fabrics," the merchant's voice trembled, as if he were desperately trying to conceal his nervousness.
The guard's indifferent voice interrupted the merchant, "Hurry up! Don't waste my time, show me your ID and pass."
After a hurried search, it seemed like one paper after another was being handed to the guard. Rayal could feel the trembling of each pass in this tense atmosphere.
The sound of the guard checking the pass and the dim light projected onto the ground illuminated Rayal's tense face. He dared not breathe loudly, even his usual unconscious breaths became cautious. The verification seemed to proceed quite quickly, and in no time, the command "You may pass! Hurry up!" broke his contemplation.
The merchant hurriedly responded, "Thank you, sir! We will go over right away!" Then he turned and ordered the others to act quickly, fearing any hesitation would incur the guard's displeasure.
The merchant's voice accompanied the sound of hooves, echoing through the quiet night sky, urging his companions to hasten their pace. They hurriedly transported their goods like driven livestock, hoping to quickly enter the safety of the city walls.
Rayal hid beneath the carriage, trying to blend in with the shadow of the cart, as if this could help him evade the lingering gazes and potential inquiries. His heartbeat quickened in this tense wait, seemingly responding to the merchant's urgent commands.
The footsteps of the guards gradually faded away, and Rayal suddenly felt a wave of relaxation. But he knew that now was not the time to slack off, as any small mistake could undo all his previous efforts.
With the repeated urging of the merchant and the commands of the guards, the carriage finally began to move forward slowly. Rayal felt the rhythmically strong vibrations of the mud and small stones being pressed beneath the wheels, accompanying every breath he took. His body seemed to merge with the carriage, as it moved like a mobile fortress through the gate leading to Accra Castle.
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