Creak...

The wagon lurched to a stop.

We’d probably reached the capital.

Now everything depended on Ilya’s ability to masterfully divert the general’s attention from the wagon.

On the way here, not much had happened. They’d barely spoken, except when the general attempted making small talk with Ilya. I was guessing she regretted allowing him into the convoy per the architect’s consistent requests, judging by how she’d cut him off with single-line answers or, sometimes, just pointed silence.

Crikk...

The general, in his shining armor, climbed down from the wagon. Then Ilya followed, her heels barely making a sound against the wagon’s wooden floor.

The general possessed intermediate aura, which meant he had decent perception of his surroundings.

But Ilya was well-prepared with her choice of clothing for us.

The cloth itself wasn’t anything special, just linen, a soft body-hugging material specialized for comfort and ease of movement. Basically, we’d been given modern-day bodysuits with a thirteenth-century touch and slightly compromised comfort.

But the cloak we wore over it? That was the game changer.

It was made of special material that camouflaged the wearer, making any perceiver think the user was just an extension of the object or background adjacent to them. Of course, if someone looked directly at us, there was nothing the cloak could do. But it provided a shield, a phantom veil, against perception abilities not linked to the eyes.

In other words, indirect perception.

Of course, we still had to be cautious not to make sounds or do anything that brought suspicion. If someone watched with intent , the cloak’s camouflage might not cut it.

"The crowd’s buzzing!" The general’s voice came from just beside us as he stretched audibly.

"We should move fast. Our convoy is troubling the crowd," Ilya’s voice replied, standing beside the general.

I could only see their legs from my position behind Merin.

Merin had returned to her normal annoyed expression, which was to say the collar’s effect wasn’t as strong as her pheromones. I’d allowed her to use her power on herself to reduce the creeping stimulation in her body.

"Sure, Lady Ilya. Always ready to shop with you," the general said, following Ilya while practically buzzing with eagerness.

They had three hours before the meeting started. This stop was to buy customary gifts for the Saint for when they met him.

I’d heard the Saint had brought a century-old wine bottle when he’d visited the Duchess. I hadn’t seen the bottle myself, but I assumed it was as grand as the wine inside.

What kind of Saint brought wine bottles as gifts?

Then again, wine was almost a necessity here in the northern regions. It was one of the readily available sources of liquid warmth to keep residents comfortable from the inside. Even the age limit was just sixteen years, opposed to twenty-one back in our modern society, to drink alcoholic beverages.

So I was guessing she was getting an extravagant gift for the Saint in return.

"Shift towards me. I need to open the slit," I ordered Merin.

The next second, her breasts fell onto my face, soft and suffocating.

"Heff... Moff... Mofff!" My screams were totally muffled against her.

But they were enough to pass as orders, apparently.

This thick bitch!

I cursed inwardly as my hand fumbled for the slider of the slit.

I used my perception to understand the situation outside.

Numerous guards stood near the architect’s wagon and beside the fortified wagon that had been moved to the side of the road. They’d really made the roads narrow, earning scoffs and glares from walking locals.

But the Sinclair guards gave them no reaction. They simply stood around the architect’s wagon, not letting anyone get near it. And of course, no one was cracked enough to argue with a bunch of towering guards who could fold them in seconds.

I removed the lock in one fell swoop.

The pressure all of us had been exerting on each other suddenly released, propelling us toward the newly opened world.

Merin fell first. We fell on top of her.

"Oww..." We got up slightly and crawled out from beneath the wagon, immediately crouching behind it so no guards could suspect anything.

Luckily, the sound of our fall was muffled by the buzzing crowd all around.

We were in the busy royal streets of Ravencourt’s capital.

Raven Spire.

A few people gave us curious looks as they passed.

We stood up and immediately joined the crowd, as if we’d been part of the buzzing street from the very beginning.

The bodysuits would’ve stuck out in the crowd if not for the lustrous cloaks covering us from neck to below the knees.

We looked like fourteenth-century British gentlemen.

I glanced at Sera and Lydia. They nodded.

The next instant, we moved to the corner of the street and turned into one of the capital’s many alleys.

The alleys were dark and ominous.

Dogs looked at us with their crimson eyes, meat freshly torn from some dead animal hanging from their jaws. A small growl projected from one’s mouth, as if they didn’t appreciate invaders in their domain.

None of us flinched.

We raised the hoods that came attached to our cloaks, covering our heads. It was more important for Sera because of her frost-white hair. It would stick out in the dark alley against the black background.

The hood helped with that.

We passed the growling dog. It stared at us for a second, ready to bite if necessity arose. But sensing we weren’t invaders, just travelers passing through, it dug back into its meal.

They said if you wanted to do bounty hunting, just go to the royal capital’s alleys. You’d find a target at every turn.

Just as we did.

We blended into the shadows. The cloak camouflaged our presence, keeping us hidden even as we moved past groups of thugs and criminals. Of course, if they focused , they could see us clear as day, but we wouldn’t give them a reason to focus.

Lydia had already vanished into thin air, ready to strike any group of tough-looking thugs if they ever discovered us.

But they were too busy dividing loot to bat an eye in our direction.

Of course, killing them wouldn’t take much time. But the risk of commotion would always be there, no matter how much difference in tier existed between us. And the risk wasn’t worth killing a few mundane thugs.

Picking out weeds wouldn’t stop their spread. But burning the farm would.

I didn’t plan to burn the capital... at least not anytime soon.

So they’d get to live. For now.

Merin led the way. I trailed behind with Sera in the middle. Lydia was either behind me or leading ahead of Merin in her phantom form.

We walked in a streamlined formation until we emerged from the alleys back into the crowd.

We hadn’t spent more than two hours walking.

We could see the Starfall Estate from here, about a twenty-minute walk away.

Perfect distance to stay away from suspicion and also the exact spot we’d planned to meet Ilya.

Just then, my eyes fell on something behind the estate.

Standing tall and regal, dominating the skyline.

The reason why the capital was called Raven Spire.

The Royal Palace of the Ravencourt Imperium.

Its black spires reached toward the sky like claws, each tower crowned with banners bearing the empire’s sigil, a raven with spread wings, clutching a sword in its talons with a black snake twisted along its body and erected out vertical.

Even from here, the sheer presence of the palace was overwhelming. It wasn’t just a building. It was a statement.

Power. Authority. Dominion.

I stared at it for a moment longer than I should have.

Somewhere in that palace sat the Emperor. The man who controlled everything. The man whose word could end kingdoms.

The man who’s successor, in my past life, had ordered Cass’s doom.

"Rune?" Sera’s voice pulled me back.

I blinked and looked down at her. She was watching me with concern in her silver eyes.

I smiled as she clutched my hand.

We moved forward, disappearing back into the shadows.

The palace could wait.

For now, we had a Saint to deal with.