"And so, I owe my life to six common travelers?" the man asked, his tone teetering between seriousness and sarcasm. Without even waiting for an answer, he continued, "I truly can't decide if this is an unlucky or lucky day for me…"

"Sometimes, my lord, fate works in strange and unfathomable ways," replied Lucien, offering a relaxed, soothing smile.

"Undoubtedly," the nobleman retorted, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position, leaning back against the seat and the beige, finely upholstered wall of the carriage. "I am a firm believer in destiny, and whatever our meeting means, it is no mere coincidence. You were in the right place at the right time to help my men. For that reason, and considering how you dealt with those bandits, I can't help but think you are not exactly who you claim to be. Simple—if you'll forgive the term—naïve travelers wouldn't be so skilled in combat or possess such peculiar abilities as yours…"

Lucien instinctively glanced at his companions, seated beside and across from him in the carriage, which, brushed by the gentle sunset glow, meanwhile continued to creak and jolt as it slowly advanced along the muddy, uneven road. The story they had hastily devised and shared with the man had not been as convincing as they had hoped. Even the eloquence of both himself and Gwen had failed to smooth over the minor inconsistencies in their account.

Not that they had anything to hide, but they had all agreed on keeping a low profile during their journey, which had forced them to lie about their intentions. A lie, however, that had apparently already been uncovered. His gaze wandered over the troubled expressions of Goldrick and Liris, the one nearly hidden beneath Karak's hood, and the concerned faces of Gwen and Tiresio before finally settling back on the nobleman before him.

Lord Lucas Ravast, who had introduced himself as the head of the family bearing his name, met Lucien's scrutiny with a polite smile—a smile that nonetheless betrayed a certain curiosity and interest. The nobleman's true thoughts, however, remained shrouded beneath an apparent mask of courtesy and good manners. It was a mask that even Lucien, usually adept at reading the thoughts and emotions of others, could not pierce.

There seemed to be nothing beyond the outward façade of his short, well-groomed dark hair and beard, hazel eyes, and a costly blue garment with fine white trims—a long silk tunic worth more in those lands than the lives of ten common folk combined. Despite its ample cut, the tunic did little to conceal the lithe and youthful frame of a man nearing thirty.

Lucien knew he needed a swift response to Lord Ravast's words. Every moment of hesitation would make the silence both suspicious and awkward. Yet, for once, his not-so-reliable improvisational skills were spared the test.

Just as Tiresio appeared ready to step in and support him in the conversation, Lucas Ravast spoke again. "You need not worry," he declared, smiling reassuringly after glancing over his six guests, who were bathed in the fading rays of sunlight streaming through the window curtains. "I was merely jesting. Your affairs are your own, as they should be. All I can say is thank you once more for your intervention. That alone is more than enough for me to place my trust in you."

He paused briefly, seemingly ensuring the atmosphere in the carriage was relaxed as it jolted and groaned, crossing a particularly rough patch of the trail.

"For this reason," he continued, "as I have already said, and to repay you for what you’ve done, the least I can do is accompany you for part of your journey. I must apologize, however, for the inadequate comfort of this carriage. Unfortunately, it’s not designed to properly accommodate more than six occupants, and I regret having to squeeze us all in. But we shouldn't have much farther to go now."

"Think nothing of it, Lord Ravast," Lucien promptly interjected. "Your offer is more than welcome. After hours of traveling through cold and mud, a ride in your carriage feels like a blessing from the gods."

The nobleman's satisfied and seemingly genuine nod put Lucien at ease. The lessons the half-elf had received on proper etiquette in the presence of high-ranking figures were proving their worth once again. Continuing down this path would help him earn even more of the noble's trust.

Furthermore, showing gratitude and humility in a conversation was one of the secrets of dealing with others that Lucien had learned over the years. It was a powerful art of influence and persuasion, capable of subtly steering the other party to suggest and offer precisely what he desired, as if the idea had come from them. In this particular instance, the tactic would also allow him to better understand Lord Ravast's character, reasoning, and behavior—details that were far from trivial yet had thus far eluded him.

Either the man was truly as genuine as he appeared, or the mask he wore was unlike any Lucien had encountered before. And from his own, unfortunately extensive experience, it was rarely the former.

"That said," Lucien continued, leaning slightly forward, "we deeply appreciate your hospitality, but we wouldn’t want to burden you or your family. After all, we are merely passing through. We’ll be leaving again tomorrow morning…"

"I’m afraid I must insist," the nobleman replied, flashing another warm smile as he extended his hand in a reassuring gesture. "It’s the least I can do for those who saved my life. Unfortunately, I can’t host you in my residence as I would have liked, but I will ensure you have comfortable rooms at the village inn—all expenses covered, of course."

"In that case… you are most kind, Lord Ravast. We are grateful," Lucien concluded with another smile, satisfied at having secured a place to stay for the night without spending a single coin.

The half-elf barely had time to relish his success before his attention—and that of everyone else in the carriage—was drawn to a polite knock on the window from one of the guards escorting them outside.

"My lord, we have arrived," said a woman in armor once Lucas Ravast pulled back the curtain to respond.

The nobleman simply nodded before turning back to his guests. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the village of Ravast!" he declared proudly, gesturing toward the view outside the window.

Leaning forward slightly in his seat, Lucien gazed out as well. Beyond the slightly fogged glass, the dark silhouettes of various buildings stood at the end of the trail, where it made a sharp curve to the left and into the settlement.

A small rural hamlet, gray and unremarkable in its apparent tranquility, it was characterized by numerous structures—mostly single-story, made of wood and stone. They were simple and humble in appearance, haphazardly clustered together and occasionally interspersed with small cultivated fields.

The village was surrounded by a sparse, barren woodland and a stream, now a proper torrent, running through a low channel on its southern edge. Thin, weary trails of ash-gray smoke rose from chimneys, ascending lazily toward a darkening sky that was becoming increasingly overcast.

Lucien glanced at the clouds overhead. They had arrived just in time. It would start raining soon.