The two remaining passengers were commoners as well. They sat closer to the far side of the wagon, quiet and stiff, their eyes occasionally flicking toward Dominic before sliding away again.
When their gazes met his eyes, there was no mockery there. Only pity, and caution.
They did not speak or intervene.
Dominic did not blame them.
If he were in their position, he would have done the same. Crossing nobles never ended well, and survival often meant keeping your head down and pretending not to see to what they were doing. They were protecting themselves, nothing more.
Dominic let out a slow sigh and forced his hands to relax.
"Just hold on," he told himself. "Endure it. Remember this and take it back later."
If he lost control now, everything he had worked for would collapse. One mistake was all it took for someone like him. He had to rein in his emotions, no matter how much his chest burned with anger.
The wagon door suddenly swung open.
A man stood there, blocking the light. His face was sharp-cut and weathered, his expression hard and unwelcoming.
A short blade hung at his waist, and the faint pressure of ether clung to him. He was undoubtedly an Arcanist.
His eyes swept over the five youths inside.
"Listen carefully," the man said flatly. "You'll be riding together for the next three days. I don't care who your parents are, or what bloodline you come from."
His gaze lingered on the three noble boys.
"If anyone causes trouble, endangers the caravan, or ruins this journey, I will punish them myself. No exceptions. Does everyone understand?"
There was a brief silence.
The first noble boy smirked and leaned back, lowering his voice and said. "What can you do? You're just a lowly Arcanist. My family could wipe that smug look off your face whenever they want."
Dominic caught the shift instantly.
The man's jaw tightened. His fingers curled for a fraction of a second. He had heard it.
But he said nothing.
He straightened, his expression was hard again, and glanced once more at the nobles.
This time, there was something darker in his eyes. It was not fear or submission. But hatred. Dominic recognizes it. Those gazes were the same ones he had seen before, they belonged to commoners who had been wronged by nobles.
The noble boys snickered softly among themselves, mistaking his silence for weakness.
"We move now," the man said shortly. He closed the door with a dull thud.
The wagon lurched, wheels creaking as it began to roll forward.
Dominic turned and opened the small window beside his seat, letting cool morning air brush against his face.
The city slowly slid past outside, stone giving way to dirt roads and open land.
Behind him, the noble boys kept talking.
They complained loudly about their parents, about being forced into a shared caravan instead of riding in private comfort.
One of them cursed under his breath about border troubles, about how trade routes had been disrupted because of tensions with a neighboring kingdom.
"That's why my father couldn't escort me!" the first boy said irritably. "Border nonsense. As if it's my problem. I don't care about that problem. I hate being in this dirty caravan with these dirty commoners."
"Same," one of the others added.
Dominic listened without turning around.
So the situation at the border was serious. Serious enough to keep nobles occupied, somehow.
He didn't care. Politics and problems in the borders meant nothing to him. At least for now.
He also caught their names.
The first noble boy was named Alaric. The second introduced himself as Corvin. The third was Lucen.
Dominic memorized them silently.
The wagon rolled onward, carrying them farther from Vellonor Reach and closer to Cindervale.
After hours of steady riding, the wagon slowed and finally came to a stop when the sky outside turned dark.
The door opened, and this time it was a woman who stood outside. She wore a traveler's coat reinforced with leather plates, her hair tied back tightly. A short staff rested against her shoulder.
"We'll make camp here," she said with a smile. "Everyone out and eat while you can."
Dominic rose and stepped down from the wagon with the others.
The air outside was fresh. They had stopped near a stretch of open land bordered by low trees, far enough from the road to stay hidden but close enough to continue moving quickly once they set off again.
The caravan crew moved with practiced efficiency.
Wagons were arranged into a loose circle. Canvas was pulled out and secured. Small fires were lit and pots were placed above them.
Guards spread out along the perimeter, eyes sharp, hands never straying far from their weapons.
Dominic watched quietly as the Arcanists joined in.
There were three of them in total. Each wore their Arcanist medallion around their neck, and wore practical gear.
Their weapons were visible, their movements controlled and alert.
They were not members of the Scarlet Council. Dominic could tell immediately. There were no authoritative insignias. These Arcanists were hired professionals, paid to protect wagons and lives, not representatives of any great power.
That made them feel more real somehow.
The noble boys stepped out last. Their expressions twisted with annoyance.
They complained about the dust clinging to their clothes, about having to camp in a place like this, and about how the food was sure to be terrible.
Dominic ignored them. But the crews and guards were glancing at them with sharp eyes. But again, they hold themselves not to do or say anything.
Dominic stayed near the edge of the camp, watching the trees and the guards instead. He accepted a simple portion of food when it was offered. Warm stew and coarse bread. This was more than enough for him.
The burly man Dominic had met earlier moved among the campers, handing out small portions of dried fruit and hard biscuits from a sack slung over his shoulder.
He stopped in front of Dominic and held some out.
"Eat up, kid," he said with a rough chuckle. "Long road ahead. Those noble kids wouldn't want it so I don't bother."
Dominic took them with both hands, his face brightening despite himself.
"Thank you," he said honestly.
The man grinned, clearly amused by the reaction. "Hah. Polite too. You'll do fine out there. Just keep your eyes open and your mouth shut when you need to." He gave Dominic's shoulder a light pat before moving on.
Dominic sat near the fire, eating quietly. The warmth eased some of the tension in his body, and for a brief moment, the insults from earlier felt distant.
Then it happened.
One of the Arcanists straightened abruptly.
Dominic noticed it because the movement was too sharp and sudden. The man looked young, perhaps in his twenties, with long dark hair tied loosely behind his back, longer than Dominic's.
His hand hovered near his sword as his eyes lifted toward the sky.
Dominic followed his gaze.
He saw nothing. Only scattered stars and a dark, cloudless sky.
Then Arcanist rose to his feet.
The other two Arcanists-the one with a sharp-cut face and a woman-noticed that too.
Guards nearby stiffened, hands going to spears and blades. The mood of the camp shifted in an instant.
The long-haired Arcanist spoke calmly, but tension was unmistakable in his every word.
"We've got company."
—