Kael couldn't shake the unease that settled in his chest as the trio made their way back to the village. The adrenaline from the skirmish with the bandits had faded, leaving him with a gnawing feeling of doubt. He glanced at Lira, who strode ahead with the same confidence she had shown before the fight, and then at Mareth, who kept her gaze fixed on the path ahead.
"What now?" Kael asked, breaking the silence.
Lira threw a smirk over her shoulder. "Now we see if your little display bought you any goodwill."
"And if it didn't?" Mareth's tone was sharp, her grip tightening on the hilt of her dagger.
"Then you're right back where you started," Lira said lightly. "But relax. These people value results, and you delivered. That's more than most outsiders manage."
Kael exchanged a glance with Mareth, but neither of them spoke further as they entered the village. The villagers greeted them with cautious nods, and the tavern keeper offered a rare smile as they passed. It was subtle, but there was a shift in the atmosphere—a quiet acknowledgment of their efforts.
Later that evening, they gathered in the Rusted Axe, the small common room filled with the low hum of conversation. Kael noticed a few villagers eyeing him and Mareth with curiosity, but the tension that had marked their arrival had lessened.
Lira leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. "See? Told you they'd come around."
"They still don't trust us," Mareth said, her voice low.
"Trust takes time," Lira replied. "But you've got your foot in the door. That's what matters."
Kael opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, a wiry man approached their table. He had a thin, angular face and a weathered look that spoke of years spent in the harsh realities of the Free Holds.
"You're the ones who dealt with those bandits, right?" the man asked, his voice gruff.
Kael nodded cautiously. "Yes. Why?"
The man pulled up a chair, his movements deliberate. "Name's Halrik. I'm one of the caravan leaders around here. Heard what you did. Got something you might want to see."
Kael and Mareth exchanged a wary glance, but Lira nodded for Halrik to continue. The man reached into his pocket and produced a small, crumpled piece of parchment. He slid it across the table to Kael, who picked it up and unfolded it.
It was a wanted poster. His face stared back at him, the likeness uncanny. Below it, bold letters declared him a fugitive of the Council of Magi, with a reward large enough to turn heads in any corner of the realm.
Kael's stomach dropped. "They know where I am."
"Not exactly," Halrik said, shaking his head. "That poster's been circulating for weeks, but it's only just reached this area. The Council's casting a wide net."
"Doesn't mean they're not close," Mareth said, her expression grim.
Halrik leaned in, his voice dropping. "Look, I don't know what you did to get on their bad side, and I don't want to know. But if the Council's after you, you'll need to move carefully. There are eyes everywhere."
"Thanks for the warning," Lira said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "We'll take it from here."
Halrik nodded and rose from his seat, leaving them with the poster. Kael stared at it, his mind racing. The sight of his own face, paired with the Council's relentless reach, brought the weight of his situation crashing down on him.
"What are we going to do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mareth placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. We always do."
Lira's gaze lingered on the poster before she spoke. "The Council doesn't just want you because of that little magic trick you pulled in the village square. There's more to this, isn't there?"
Kael hesitated, his thoughts flashing back to the Crown of Arcana and the power that had surged through him. He didn't know how much he could trust Lira, but withholding the truth felt like a dangerous gamble.
"There's something they want," he admitted. "Something I found. I don't know what it is, but it's connected to… everything."
Lira raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've got yourself tangled up in something big."
"You have no idea," Mareth muttered.
Lira leaned forward, her expression serious for once. "If you want to survive this, you'll need more than luck and raw power. You need allies. People who know how to navigate this world. That's where I come in."
Kael met her gaze, searching for any hint of deception. Finally, he nodded. "All right. But if you're going to help us, I need to know we can trust you."
Lira smirked. "Trust is a two-way street, kid. But for now, let's just focus on keeping you alive."
As the night deepened, Kael and Mareth retreated to their room, the weight of the wanted poster heavy in Kael's hands. Lira's words echoed in his mind, mingling with the ever-present hum of magic that pulsed just beneath his skin.
He didn't know what lay ahead, but one thing was certain: the Council wasn't going to stop. And neither was he.