Aldric stopped in his tracks, glaring at them.
"Hold on."
His voice cut sharper than before.
"Is it just me, or does something about this make zero sense?"
Lyriana glanced at him. Draven kept walking.
Aldric's jaw tightened.
"No, seriously. Are we actually going to just stroll into the town?"
Silence.
The others didn't answer.
Aldric threw his hands up.
"That's insane."
He pointed toward Raventhorn's distant rooftops.
"Populated area. Guards. Witnesses. People."
His gaze snapped to Draven.
"You want to walk in like nothing happened?"
Still nothing.
Finally, the cultist spoke, voice hesitant.
"Why would we do something that foolish? That would be like announcing ourselves."
Aldric turned on him.
"Exactly!"
Relief flashed across the cultist's face.
"So you understand."
Aldric stared. Then groaned.
"No, you don't get it."
He paced a few steps, agitation rising.
"First we cross borders. Then alarms. Then that border commander bitch nearly takes my head off."
He gestured wildly.
"And now we're supposed to just… walk into a town?"
Lyriana watched him, unbothered.
Aldric stopped again.
"Is it just me?" he demanded. "Am I the only one who sees how stupid this is?"
The cultist shook his head.
"You misunderstand. We are not announcing ourselves. We will move discreetly."
Aldric laughed.
"Discreetly?"
The cultist straightened slightly, still breathing heavily but trying to sound confident.
"You don't seem to understand," he said, glancing at him. "We are going to sneak in. It is daytime, yes—but that is the point. No one will notice."
Aldric shot him a glare.
"'Sneak in,' huh?"
The cultist nodded.
"Precisely. We are not announcing ourselves. We will blend in. Move like ordinary travelers."
Aldric scoffed.
"Right. Because that shit always works."
The cultist's hands rose slightly, trying to stay calm.
"No, you misunderstand—nobody will notice. It's perfectly feasible."
Aldric snorted, jaw tight.
"Perfectly feasible? You've got to be kidding me. And you expect me to just nod along like it's nothing? I'm the only one losing my mind here, huh?"
The cultist blinked.
"You… seem confused."
That did it.
Aldric's head snapped toward him, eyes blazing.
"Confused? Confused?! I'm not confused! I just… I just know exactly how insane this looks, and apparently, I'm the only one who cares!"
Lyriana raised an eyebrow, watching silently. Draven continued forward without slowing, eyes fixed ahead, utterly indifferent.
Aldric ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "Of course… I'm the only one who's bothered by common sense."
The cultist continued, oblivious to the edge in Aldric's tone.
"I thought you already understood something like that. But you are the only one who seems confused."
Aldric's expression darkened.
"What was that?"
The cultist blinked.
"I only meant—"
"Don't 'only mean' anything."
Aldric stepped closer, irritation written across his face.
"You think I'm stupid? That I don't get it?"
The cultist hesitated.
"No, I simply—"
"You simply like talking."
Aldric jabbed a thumb toward the distant outline of Raventhorn.
"Populated area. Guards. People. Someone notices something weird and suddenly we've got problems."
The cultist raised his hands slightly in a placating gesture.
"That is why we will be careful."
Aldric laughed—short, humorless.
"Careful? You look like you might fall over if I breathe too hard."
The cultist frowned.
"I will not be a burden."
Aldric stared at him.
"Yeah? You almost passed out back there."
The cultist stiffened.
"That was temporary."
"Sure it was."
Aldric crossed his arms.
"And sneaking in? Great idea."
He stopped dead in his tracks.
"We're talking about blending in," he said flatly, gesturing at the group. "Blending in."
His hand swept between Draven—still looking every bit like the so-called son of the Demon King, bloodstained and carrying a cat—and the cultist, whose robes screamed anything but 'ordinary traveler.'
"So let me get this straight," he said, voice sharp. "We're supposed to *blend in*—walking around with the supposed Demon King's son, and *you*," he jabbed at the cultist, "dressed like a damn cultist. How the hell are we supposed to blend in?"
"Not exactly a low-profile group," Lyriana observed, expression neutral.
The cultist—no, the girl—didn't flinch. Calmly, she reached up and began to undo the hood and mask covering her head.
"Me?" she said, voice level. "I just take this off. Then I look like any other human. I look like anyone else."
Aldric stared.
"Anyone else?"
The cultist pulled the hood fully back. Silence fell.
Aldric blinked. Then blinked again.
The figure beneath the hood wasn't what he expected.
Black hair. Black eyes. A young face—too young. Not the hardened look of a seasoned mage. A girl.
Aldric's jaw practically dropped.
"…You're joking."
"So… you're just a damn kid?"
The cultist—no, the girl—straightened, defensive.
"I am not a child."
Her voice carried a sharp edge.
Aldric laughed. Not kindly. More out of disbelief.
"You're telling me this whole time I've been babysitting—what, a child prodigy cultist?!"
She didn't flinch. She adjusted her robes, giving off quiet confidence, letting the absurdity of Aldric's reaction roll off her.
"You're a kid."
"I am not."
"You look like you should be in school or something."
"That is irrelevant," she said sharply.
Aldric shook his head, smirking.
"This keeps getting better."
He gestured at Draven.
"So we've got him—walking disaster—already on wanted lists across the kingdom. And you," he pointed at the girl, "who looks like she should be doing homework."
The girl bristled.
"I am a practitioner of ritual theory."
Aldric smirked again.
"Sure you are."
Lyriana finally spoke.
"Enough."
Her tone was calm but final.
Aldric glanced at her.
"Not enough."
She ignored him.
"We will blend in."
He threw his hands up.
"How?"