Arthur wore a look of genuine intrigue at the insult, nodding toward Ayame as an unspoken agreement passed between them regarding Lucid's swordsmanship. It was a rare moment of absolute solidarity between the royal knight and the mercenary from the east. Neither of them had ever seen Lucid hold a blade without looking like a farmer trying to shovel gravel with a broomstick.
"Sword fighting is irrelevant," Lucid said, waving his hand to dismiss both of their opinions at once. "I can break a sword with my bare hands anyway."
"You would lose your fingers before the steel cracked," Ayame stated. Her voice was flat, devoid of any desire to spare his ego. "Your footwork is atrocious."
"Thank you for the tactical analysis," Lucid muttered. He turned his attention away from his own teammates and focused entirely on the yellow-haired trespasser sitting comfortably in the corner of their carriage lounge.
Lucid closed the distance in three long strides, stepping deliberately into Valen's personal space until his boots nearly touched the young man's knees. "Why the hell should I let you stay on this train?"
Valen did not flinch away from the intrusion. He leaned his back against the polished mahogany paneling of the carriage wall and spun the silver coin across his knuckles with practiced ease. The metal caught the amber lantern light with every revolution.
"Because I know the southern rail schedules better than your royal knight does," Valen replied smoothly. "And because the church acolytes are currently setting up an inspection checkpoint at the sky dock."
Lucid stopped moving. He studied Valen's face for any twitch of the eye, any tightening of the jaw that might betray a bluff. But the young man only smiled back with an infuriating, relaxed calm.
"How do you know about the sky dock checkpoint?" Lucid demanded.
Valen ignored the question for a moment, sliding sideways to drop his weight into a padded velvet armchair beside the partition. He kicked his feet out, crossing his ankles like a paying first-class passenger.
Lucid did not care for the domestic attitude. He reached out with the toe of his boot and kicked the wooden leg of the chair with just enough sharp kinetic force to disrupt its center of gravity.
The velvet chair tipped backward. Valen's arms cartwheeled through the air for a half second before he slammed flat onto the floorboards with a loud, hollow thud.
"Ouch," Valen said from the floor.
"Oh, please do not make yourself at home," Lucid said coldly, towering over him. "Answer the question."
Valen rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, completely unbothered by the humiliation of lying on a dirty train floor. He brushed a speck of coal dust off his lapel.
"Well, you saw me selling knives down in the lower district, right?" Valen asked, his yellow eyes glinting. "You remember the way I spoke to the crowds."
"You were selling stolen scrap metal," Lucid corrected.
"Commerce is commerce," Valen said, waving a hand in the air. "Do you know what one of the greatest strengths of a decent merchant is?"
Lucid considered the question carefully. His mind wandered back through several lifetimes of dealing with shopkeepers, smugglers, and aristocratic brokers across half the continent.
"Knowing what a customer truly wants," Lucid answered. He paused for a beat before adding, "And making sure both sides leave satisfied."
Valen paused his coin-spinning. He tilted his head slightly, looking up from the floorboards with genuine, unmasked curiosity. "Indeed... where did you learn that from?"
Lucid turned his gaze toward the far window, his face hardening. "Not telling you."
Valen let out a long, theatrical sigh and finally clambered to his feet, dusting off the knees of his trousers. "Well, the second most important strength of a merchant is accurate information. You cannot sell a remedy to a man if you do not know where he is bleeding."
He took a step closer to the center of the lounge, looking between Arthur, Ayame, and Lucid.
"What if I told you that just by looking at your faces, I already know which destinations each of you have in mind?" Valen asked.
"You are guessing," Arthur said, his hand resting on his sword belt.
"Am I?" Valen smirked, gesturing toward Arthur and Ayame. "The blue-haired knight and the Oni girl have a very specific northern destination in mind. You are looking toward Vex."
He slowly pivoted on his heel until his yellow eyes locked onto Lucid. "And you... you are thinking about going to Tyriana."
The ambient hum of the carriage generator suddenly felt much louder. Lucid glanced at Arthur and Ayame. Both of them wore the same uncomfortable, guarded expression. A thick, unpleasant pressure settled over the cabin, the kind of silence that usually preceded someone drawing a weapon.
'He mentioned it again,' Alice whispered from the deep recesses of Lucid's mind. Her voice was sharp with suspicion. 'How does he know that? Have you told him? From the way this mortal is speaking, it is almost as if you two have been holding private meetings while I was away.'
'Not exactly a meeting,' Lucid thought back, keeping his facial muscles neutral. 'More like frequent run-ins down in the mud. There is something more to him than just a street vendor.'
'A double identity,' Alice concluded coldly.
'Yup,' Lucid agreed in his thoughts. 'Just like that corrupt governor we dealt with last week. Seems like everyone has two or three names these days...'
Arthur shifted his weight, his armor clinking softly in the quiet lounge. He looked at Lucid with a dry, questioning raise of his brow. "You are quite confident about other people hiding identities. Need I remind you there is a whole children's book circulating in the capital written about you?"
Lucid wore a blank, deadpan expression that completely betrayed his fogged internal state. "And what if I am a children's book character? Does that threaten your royal dignity?"
Valen laughed, a dry, rasping sound that cut the tension without relieving any of the danger. He stepped closer to Lucid, his pupils narrowing into tiny black pinpricks against the bright yellow iris.
"Oh, I do not care where you go or where you end up," Valen murmured. "We could take a one-way train ticket straight into the northern oblivion, or ride across the crimson desert until our lungs dry out."
A sadistic, unsettling smile spread across the lower half of his face.
"And I would follow you," Valen promised softly. "I have information, Lucid. Anything you could perceive, anything you could possibly think of... I can provide it for you."
Lucid did not say anything. He stood frozen, staring at the thief's grinning mouth.
'He is creeping me out,' Alice whispered, her tone losing its usual arrogant composure. 'Why is he looking at you like that?'
'Aren't you supposed to be an all-knowing ancient entity?' Lucid thought back with a internal sigh. 'Deal with him.'
A sharp, metaphysical hit struck Lucid directly inside his ribs, a psychic punch delivered from within his own consciousness. His breath hitched in his throat, but he refused to let his body twitch.
'Can't... show weakness...' Lucid reminded himself, biting the inside of his cheek until the stinging sensation faded.
Silence stretched across the carriage room once more.
Finally, Valen sighed, dropping his shoulders as if disappointed by the lack of applause. "Where are you headed, truly?"
"Wherever we need to go," Lucid answered vaguely.
"You said earlier that you wanted to go somewhere," Valen noted. He reached up with one hand and pressed his palm flat against the center of his own chest, right over his heart. "Somewhere... that place is here."
He smiled again, wide and unblinking.
Lucid jerked backward so fast his heels skidded on the polished floorboards. He crossed his arms over his ribs, clutching his own shoulders in a defensive posture of utter disgust.
"Arthur, throw him out!" Lucid yelled, pointing a trembling finger at the yellow-haired merchant. "I have been touched!"
Ayame and Arthur both turned their heads to look at Lucid. Neither of them moved a muscle. They stared at him with flat, deadpan expressions, looking at him as if he were an overdramatic child throwing a tantrum in a public market.
"Lucid, I did not know," Arthur said, his voice dripping with false, polite diplomacy. "I really did not know."
"You did not know what?" Lucid demanded.
"Whatever your personal preference is regarding your companions, I accept it," Arthur said solemnly, placing a fist over his heart. "The knights of the realm do not judge matters of the heart."
"Oh no! Do not get any ideas!" Lucid shouted, his face reddening with irritation. "He is a sociopath, not a preference!"
Before Lucid could formulate a proper protest or summon a hex to blast the knight across the room, Arthur had already turned his back. The knight walked briskly down the narrow corridor toward the forward control panel room, his iron boots thudding loudly against the floor to announce his tactical retreat.
"Well... I trust that you have made a sound judgment," Arthur called over his shoulder.
"Yeah, throw him out right now!" Lucid ordered after him.
Arthur's voice floated back from the far end of the control room, muffled by the distance and a sudden, highly suspicious lack of hearing. "Throw what? Did not hear you over the mechanisms pressure..."