The journey from the Sunstone Caves took them through the sparsely populated Northern Plains. Kaelen had shed his black Obsidian robes for the coarse, travel-stained tunics and leather of a master merchant. Elara wore a simple, hooded dress, her Zero Rank status allowing her to appear completely unremarkable.
They traveled on two strong, plain horses Kaelen had acquired using a discreet, non-traceable transaction in a remote mining village.
"You are 'Master Theron,' a dealer in specialized elemental ores," Elara coached Kaelen as they rode. "I am your silent apprentice, 'Lin.' Your Blue Rank is disguised by the pretense of carrying high-grade materials—elemental dealers naturally give off strong Aether signatures."
Kaelen listened, his expression neutral. He had sealed the Codex of Echoes deep within the Sunstone Caves, but the absence of the scroll's raw energy made him feel exposed. He still felt the strain of his remote Transfiguration, a constant reminder of his vulnerability.
"Theron is calculating, greedy, but meticulous," Kaelen summarized, adopting a slightly broader, more confident posture. "He cares only for profit, not politics. That should disarm most common guards."
They were traveling along a secondary coastal route toward Vesper Falls, a region known for its luxury hunting lodges. The area was far from the political heat of the capital, but still prone to patrols.
Their first challenge came mid-day near a forest checkpoint. Four soldiers in the royal green-and-gold livery were checking all incoming traffic, their armor polished and their bearing rigid—a clear sign that Valerius was deploying high-grade forces even into the remote territories.
Kaelen pulled the horses to a halt, the moment fraught with invisible tension.
"Papers, merchants," the lead guard commanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Kaelen produced flawlessly forged documents. "Master Theron, delivering a sample consignment of purified Ironwood Ore to the Guild Master in Port Seraph. You'll note the license is dated three weeks ago. We are slightly behind schedule."
While the guard scrutinized the papers, Elara subtly executed her role. She pulled a waterskin from her saddlebag, feigning nervousness, and in the process, knocked over a small, empty leather vial that bounced loudly on the dirt.
The guard's eyes flickered down, instantly assessing the distraction.
"Careful, girl," the guard snapped. "What was that?"
"Forgive her, sir," Kaelen interjected smoothly, leaning forward with a conspiratorial air. "Just her silly herbs. She believes they keep the mountain sickness away. Useless, but harmless. Unlike that Thunder Ore business. Rumor has it some fools tried to move that volatile junk through the Ironwood Gap recently. Madness, risking a shipment like that."
Kaelen subtly injected the single word, Thunder Ore, a coded reference to the crisis Seraph would have reported. The guards were immediately pulled into the new narrative.
The lead guard's attention was completely diverted from Kaelen's papers. "Ay, that's right. Seems the Archmage's son—a madman named Varr—tried to steal it, or so the reports say. Caused a massive localized Aether spike. We're doubling patrols for any rogue mages."
"A mage? Risky business," Kaelen scoffed, tucking his papers away. "We prefer honest metal. Saves on the headache."
The guard, now reassured by Kaelen's mundane greed and the distraction of the rogue mage hunt, waved them through without checking their cargo or Elara's person.
As they rode away, Elara let out a shaky breath. "That was close. You played the greedy merchant perfectly."
"Greed is predictable," Kaelen observed, his eyes cold and distant. "And predictability makes us invisible. We confirmed two things: Valerius is heavily reinforcing the treason narrative, and the hunt is focused on my magical signature, specifically looking for Blue Rank activity, not political maneuvering."
"Which means," Elara concluded, "the Scroll of Debts is safe for now. No one expects us to be focused on a financial ruin instead of an arcane weapon."