Gabriel left Bridgedon at first light.
The gate stood open when he reached it, traffic already moving through in both directions. Workers headed toward the fields. Carts rolled in carrying grain and salt. A merchant argued with his driver over a cracked axle that wouldn't survive another mile.
He joined the flow without slowing.
The guards stood on either side of the gate, spears held loose, attention drifting between faces out of habit rather than intent. One of them looked at Gabriel as he passed. His gaze registered the eyes, red and unmistakable in the early light.
Then it moved on.
No second look. No tightening posture. The guard turned his attention to the merchant still arguing behind him, and that was the end of it.
He stepped through the gate and onto the south road.
The illusion held.
