"It's quite simple," the demon army leader began, glancing towards the setting sun in the west.
"When your troops departed, there were two people of note. A man of exceptional demeanor and a woman in military garb yet carrying herself like a lady, likely the lord's daughter. And you, escorting them; how could you be merely a battalion commander of the third unit?"
"Furthermore..." the leader continued, "the soldiers you've brought with you are sweating profusely, indicative of a hurried march here, and the number is few.
You must have just discovered our true identities and hastily gathered this team."
"Correct." Owen admitted openly.
"Your forces haven't spread throughout the city, which means your target is the city gates. Drop your illusions, then. When you engage in battle, those illusions cannot be maintained, right? Faceless."
"You know quite a bit," the faceless leader remarked with an appreciative gaze at Owen.
