I open my eyes to the sun shining high in the sky through the leaves. I meant to wake at dawn, but it seems I was more tired than I thought and so let a few hours steal past me. I listen intently to my surrounding, but hear only birds, the wind, and the stream.

It’s nice here– enough to be tempting to rest longer, but I should get moving before the boons end. Before I go though, there’s one thing I need to take care of.

After eating a few bites of stale bread, I strip naked and set my clothes neatly on some rocks. The stream is cold, but I need to remove as much of my scent as possible, so I wade in.

There was a bit of coarse, foul-smelling soap in Tanyth’s bag, and I use almost all of it violently rubbing myself raw to get any lingering scent of blood off me. Then I take a mixture of nice smelling but mostly useless herbs and grind them into a paste with a river stone. I smear it all over my skin and hair before rinsing off.

I use the last of the soap to clean any irreplaceable item such as my dagger and pack, before laying on a large rock to finish drying.

I nod to sleep but wake when a cloud hides the sun. There’s a bit of sunburn, but the boon will heal that and it’s more important that I’m dry.

I go to my pack and pull out the clothes Tanyth included in the bag. They’re very… brown. Clearly an outfit worn by a young farmer. It’s a little worn, but clean. My guess it was a spare outfit for one of the farmers’ children. It fits a little loose, but well enough. The cloak nearly drags, but the shoes are almost right. Snug but not too snug.

Everything settled, I walk a few steps then turn around and burn my old clothes with a firestream. There won’t be too much smoke, and the blood soaked into them makes them too dangerous to keep– while my lingering scent makes them too dangerous to leave.

They say blood never really washes out of clothes, and knights with a good enough sense of smell can tell human from animal even after decades. I’m a bit dubious about the last claim, but no reason to risk it by trying to wash clothes that even I think smelled suspicious.

Refreshed by my bath and new clothes, I start walking east towards the imperial capital confident that I’ll slip through.

Rather than heading towards my destination in a straight line, I meander along semi-random paths set by the crystal pendulum. I use a composite divination with three criteria for pathing in a hierarchy.

First, it directs me towards the nearest occurrence of specific medical herbs that I collect as part of my intended cover: a rural herbmonger ‘traveling to central to get away from all the fighting and maybe get some proper schooling.’ I considered trying for an accent to match my rustic clothes, but my impression is terrible and would likely be annoying to keep up. Granted, it isn’t that far off from how eastern Caethlians think the rural west sounds like, but it will likely start fights if any actual westerners hear it.

The second criterion is to take me vaguely east, and the third is to avoid Arkothan soldiers. The last one will be easily countered by enemy divinations since tying three criteria into one composite weakens all of them. However, that is also a good thing since they won’t cause as big of disruptions and tying it to other criteria will strengthen its ability to counter the enemy’s efforts– especially with the constant change of directions.

Ultimately though it’s a compromise. They won’t be able to track me with their divinations, while my divinations won’t steer me clear of any ambushes I stumble on by sheer happenstance.

I travel through woods and streams, over hills, and very occasionally on the road. It’s… nice… just spending the whole day picking herbs and berries, almost forgetting my pursuers. I do keep my concealment spell up, and occasionally fiddle with the magic clasp to match my cloak to my surroundings, but I don’t really bother much since the sun is too nice to wrap it around me.

I think it’s been three years since I’ve been this off guard for so long. Though obviously I do hide whenever I sense another person.

I come across two columns of troops– both far too big to fight and would be audible from a mile away even without my boon. There are a few small groups of seeming civilians that almost get close enough to spot me, but I manage to duck away in time.

Then a lone traveller crests a hill while I am traveling on the road. They see me– too late to hide and too close for the concealment to work. My skin itches.

No, it’s too risky now that the resistance isn’t there to cover me. Besides, I’d have to get new clothes, and I just took a bath.

The itching lessens but grows as I continue walking towards them, until I feel compelled to act on it. But, at the last moment, I force my hand to let go of my sheathed dagger and give them a friendly wave.

They look at me askance as they pass me as far on the opposite side of the road as they can, their hand gripping on their walking stick, ready to defend themselves with it. They don’t return the wave.

…Perhaps I should reevaluate my relationship with Anar.

The itching intensifies. My hand goes to the dagger, but I force it to stop before it reaches.

Come on, it’s not like I’m saying go full exit plan. Tacyn’s afterlife might be one of the best, but her boons are boring, and her oaths sound miserable. We can still sacrifice, just be more selective. Wait for controlled environments, or victims that we know won’t be missed. Use the methods we learned in the cult now that we can’t exploit a war to pile up boons. Maybe take a pause until we learn some spells to hide the evidence.

The itching lessens and I manage go on mostly without scratching, though I do catch myself a few times. Suddenly feeling cold despite the sun, I wrap the cloak tightly around me. I find a couple more herb patches but… it’s probably enough. I should just head straight there now.

My boons end a few hours before sundown, so I decide to spend the night in a derelict cottage I passed a few minutes prior. The owners likely abandoned it to avoid the fighting, or were, more likely, killed. It’s not the best place since honest travellers, or even a squad of soldiers might pop in to use it, but the damp walls fit my mood. Besides, these are trying times– if someone does pop in, then maybe I’ll have to self-defence them into Anar’s embrace.

I even consider starting a fire in the half-collapsed chimney but manage to stop myself. Instead, I find a perhaps novel use of the heat want by rubbing it against a chimney stone until it glows red, which heats the room nicely.

An expensive fire substitute, but it doesn’t seem to have used up very much of the blue stuff so it should be fine until I reach a safer area. Perhaps I can figure out a combination of blood runes to achieve a similar effect, though removing them after I’m done might be difficult if it gets too hot.

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When I wake in the morning, I find scratch marks on my arms and neck.

…my residual healing will take care of it. Most gods’ healing will leave superficial scars– not movement impairing, but an obvious sign of what was done in their service. Anar recognizes that attitude as impractical for his followers. Otherwise, the constant self-harm for runes and other rituals would give us away like a bloody sign around our necks.

So, it’ll be fine.

It’s cloudier today, so I do a weather divination with the pendulum. Rather than using the pathing technique of hanging it low and waiting for momentum to build, I hold the cord short and high over my shoulder with the sun to my back. The crystal moves naturally with the wind, but what I’m looking at is the light patterns that refract through it onto the ground.

Bright patches of light that are consumed by shadows: a coming storm. From the length of the cycles, I judge it’ll come around nightfall.

I redo the composite divination from yesterday, but this time add sturdy shelter as the second highest priority under finding herbs. Maybe I should exclude the herbs, but… the day is pleasant despite the clouds, and I don’t want to find shelter too quickly. Besides, I’ll be pretending to be relying on them for traveling expenses, so more is better.

Actually, it may not be pretend. I can’t use the gold coins until I reach my handler, and prices have been shooting up as the insurgency dragged on. They should stabilize soon now that we’ve lost, but people probably won’t know that for a few days.

I’ve collected a few more herb bundles when around noon I’m led to a walled town on an open plain, a river running through it. Maybe I should go around. Walls will be difficult to escape once in, and it’s in what was the middle of insurgent activity, so security will be high, as will prices.

But the divination said the storm will be bad and I likely won’t find better shelter today. Besides, price hikes go both ways. I can make money selling herbs for a high price here, and stock up on what I need farther east where prices should drop. Though I will need to buy a few things here. These boots were sadly not made for walking (at least not all day through rough terrain), and a spare set of clothes might become necessary.

Ending my concealment spell (walking past a check post without stopping would be an overt action, and it might cause problems in other ways) I queue for the gate behind perhaps ten other pedestrians (wagons have their own queue which is much longer). There are at least six spear bearers checking entrants and inspecting wagons, a number of archers going in out of sight on the gatehouse, and one fancy squire reclining in the shade. The last one would be overkill in any other circumstance.

Okay, what should I be worried about them finding? I shouldn’t have any blood on me for the squire to sniff out, and I burned the sling with the rune along with my clothes (I have a spare). I used all my poisonous herbs at the patrol camp and haven’t been picking any more. The pendulum is odd, but hidable. My dagger’s quality is a little suspicious but can be explained since I spend a lot of time in the woods gathering herbs, and Muerin’s blessing shouldn’t be detectable like enchantments are. The heat wand is already concealed, as is the magic mirror, and gold. The clasp is borderline if I’m being inspected so closely since it’s obviously magic, so I stash it in a pouch. Fortunately, it works by permanently altering the cloak rather than by illusion, so I don’t have to worry about my cloak changing colours when I take it off (though I think it was originally this shade of brown anyways).

The only thing left are the books. The Biblio’s herbalism disguise should pass scrutiny from an ordinary guard, but the squire might see through it. I also have a grimoire from a mage we killed a while back that’s disguised as a history book.

The spell book isn’t too suspicious on its own as it’s not illegal, but it would have to be explained, and would mark me as someone to watch even if I do. Likewise, while having a history book by itself wouldn’t be suspicious, someone dressed like me having two books might be, and that’s not even considering the letters or ledgers.

I groan, suddenly remembering the ledgers. I’ve yet to enchant them, and it’s too late now. While the books might be fine, transporting two ledgers for the same thing with contradictory entries is obviously evidence of a crime.

Well, I’ve already hidden them at the bottom of my pack, so I should be fine so long as they don’t dump it out.

At the front of the queue a guard dumps a pedestrian’s pack onto the ground.

…All right, they’re not doing that for everyone, I just need to not be suspicious. I’ve seen Gebal smuggle past security several times… I’ve also been with him when he’s been caught and had to fight his way out... Let’s focus on the successes. How did he do it?

Well, he mostly relied on a gruff charm I can’t emulate while leaning heavily on the fact he was with a child he pretended was his own, and the latter only worked at the start of the insurgency.

I sigh. Okay, let’s break this down. What are the necessary conditions for me getting past the gatehouse?

Nobody who can see through illusions can see my books, and nobody can see the ledgers. More specifically the squire can’t see my books, and my pack can’t be dumped out or thoroughly checked. Likewise, only one book should be visible at most. The last part shouldn’t be a problem as the Biblio is sandwiched between two layers of herbs and so should be the only one found in a casual search.

The answer is clear; create a distraction that isn’t too big or tied to me.

There’s a purple gem glowing over the gate that’s likely enchanted as an alarm for magic targeting anything in the area beneath it, so any distraction will have to come from the queue. Fortunately, I know a spell that should work.

It’s called mental whisper. Primarily a discreet communication method that requires neither chants nor gestures, but it has a subtler use. Under normal output all it does is whisper your voice into someone else’s mind. However, if you reduce the power below its original design then, due to how it’s filtered through the target’s mind, it will instead relay the message in the target’s own internal voice.

It’s not mind control, though it uses the same channels. All it can do is put a thought in the mind, whether that does anything depends on how well it fits. If the target was already thinking along those lines, then the thought will stick and push them towards action. If not, then the target will either reject and forget it, or notice the manipulation if they are very alert.

I target an impatient looking merchant on a wagon and whisper “don’t they know who I am? I have goods to move!” Then move to someone looking anxiously behind them towards the plains. “Why are they making us wait out here? The rebels could be anywhere.”

I have no way of knowing how effective any given whisper is. One person makes a confused look, and I make a note not to target them again. The rest I cycle through, narrowing down what agitates them. Finally, when I’m three away from the top of the queue, someone snaps and moves up out of line to shout at the guards.

I don’t pay too much attention to what they say, I just poke them again whenever the two guards dealing with them seem about to calm them down. When I’m the next to go, the squire gets up and slowly walks towards them.

“Next.” Says a guard, clearly distracted by the commotion. I walk up. “Name, occupation, destination?” They say flatly, clipboard in hand

I give an alias and say I'm a "herbmonger going to central"

“What’s in the bag?”

“Food, a book, and medical herbs.” I say opening the pack and showing them.

“What’s the book?”

“Illustrations of herbs for reference.” I say, opening the Biblio and showing them the illusionary pictures.

They laugh and I look up to see them looking behind me at the distraction. I look back and see the merchant doubled over with the squire coming back with a scowl– having apparently struck the merchant in the stomach.

“Always someone thinks they’re special.” The guard says with a smirk.

“Um, there wouldn’t happen to be a place I could sell my herbs in town, would there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, garrison gets allot of meds from a place called Morrisons. They’re always buying.” They say, evidently in a better mood for having witnessed light violence.

They write something additional on the clipboard– likely for random follow ups. “It’s a good thing you came, we’re running low. You can go on through kid. Military suppliers get their gate fee waved. Take this plaque and give it to Morri so he knows you didn’t steal your stuff inside. Go down main and take a right at the square, then a right at the tailor and it’ll be on your left.

“Oh, you’ll need a place to stay, right? You should go to the Bubbling Otter, it’s safer if you’re flushed with coin. I’ll write you down for there… Welcome to Fluemberg kid. Stay safe, rebels everywhere.”

I thank them with a smile and go through.