Kael. Chapter 9.
"You," the youth declared, voice sharp as a sword draw. "Show your face."
The entire crowd froze.
Then came the gasps, all at once, like the whole village was in a play and had rehearsed this part. Heads turned. People whispered. Fingers pointed.
Kael didn't move. Not right away. His heart thumped once like a slow warning of impending trouble, but outside, he stayed calm.
Like someone being mistaken for a baker who owed money for sweetrolls.
He had taken every precaution to avoid being too suspicious or standing out amongst the crowd.
What was going on?
"…Me?" he asked, raising one hand with just the right amount of lazy confusion.
The black-haired youth strode forward, boots thumping against the grass.
He pulled out a dazzling plaque that was a mix of deep brown and burning crimson etched with golden symbols that shimmered like gemstones.
When the crowd saw it, murmurs turned to awe. The gasps came again, even more dramatic this time around. Kael almost rolled his eyes.
This little peasants were quite annoying…
"I am Jian," the youth declared, voice projecting with theatrical precision, "of the Sky Sword Sect. Enforcer of the Iron Mandate. Core disciple of Elder Cheng."
He held the badge high, as if presenting the rising sun itself.
"We are hunting a fugitive," Jian continued, eyes narrowing with the precision of a hawk. "And I would hate to draw my blade before you've even had the decency to remove your hood. So I'll ask you only once more, traveler… show your face. Or I will remove it for you."
The village head of Riverdale came waddling up just then, all clucks and panicked bowing. A man with the soul of a weasel and the spine of boiled cabbage.
At least, that was what he portrayed to outsiders.
"Oh! Yes, yes! Of course, of course, Esteemed Jian!" the village head cried, practically salivating at the sight of the badge. "This man—suspicious! Very suspicious! Lurking about like a shadow, always keeping to the corners! Guards! Guards, rough him up a little if he resists—show the sect our utmost loyalty and cooperation, yes!"
Two village guards hesitated, already stepping forward with shaking spears.
Then Kael turned his eyes toward them.
That was all.
No words. No threat. Just a shift of weight and a cold glance that held the promise of violence so sudden, so refined, they froze mid-step. The taller one gulped audibly.
"No need for dramatics," Kael said smoothly, not even deigning to look at the squawking headman. "If I'm the focus of your suspicion, I'd prefer we resolve this without bruises. Especially yours."
Even if he knew he was absolutely bluffing and would be squashed to bits in mere moments if he ever faced their group, he couldn't afford to show weakness in any form.
Rule three of the gray gospel: Show weakness once, and you teach them how to kill you.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Kael reached up and removed the hood of his cloak.
With deliberate grace, he reached up and peeled back the hood of his cloak.
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew.
Kael stood there, hair tousled by the breeze, sharp features kissed by a traveler's weariness.
His skin bore the faint pallor of a man who had walked long roads under unfriendly suns. But it was the eyes that anchored everything.
They were gray as a thunderhead, cool and quiet, rimmed with a tiredness that suggested old blood on older hands.
Jian paused, lips parting just slightly, as though he'd been expecting a monster and instead found something worse; a man who had already survived one.
He recovered with a tight smile. "State your name and place of origin."
He was using a bureaucrat's voice now. Cold. Commanding. Practiced.
Kael gave a soft sigh, then spoke with that same slow drawl that was confident but never boastful, bored but never careless. "Kael Draven. From the southern foothills."
Half-true. Vague. Purposefully directionless.
Jian arched a brow. "You're a long way from home, Kael Draven. What's your purpose here in Riverdale? A man with no trade often trades in trouble."
That one earned a few chuckles from the onlookers. Jian smiled smugly.
Kael didn't blink. "Rest. Resupply. Ale, if I'm lucky," he said with a shrug. "After ten days on foot with nothing but jerky and a woman who throws daggers in her sleep, a bed wouldn't go amiss."
Behind him, Helga shifted slightly. The wood under her boots creaked like it feared her wrath.
Jian's gaze flicked to her, his brow furrowing.
"This companion of yours," he said, voice lower now, wary. "Her presence is… intense. I doubt she's some common mercenary."
"She's not," Kael replied simply. "She's sworn."
"To you?"
Kael didn't blink. "To the bond we share."
That shut Jian up, if only for a moment.
Kael's answers were too simple, clean and unshakeable. There were literally no threads to pull!
Jian's lips thinned. Time for the next phase.
"Our intelligence places Silas the Shadow near the Crimson Peaks three nights ago," he said suddenly. "He fled from one of our patrols. Account for your whereabouts."
Crimson Peaks?
Kael had no idea where the hell that was. He hadn't even seen a red hill since he woke up in this world, let alone a whole damn peak.
Kael gave a soft snort. "On the road. Headed here. No red mountains in sight, I'm afraid. If I had seen a 'Crimson Peak,' I'd have remembered it."
Jian stepped forward, expression hardening. "That's not a confirmation."
"It's not a denial either," Kael replied, meeting the disciple's gaze. "Because it's the truth. I don't lie, Jian. It wastes time."
The two stared at each other now; one cloaked in polished robes and righteous authority, the other leaning slightly on one foot, half-bored, half-amused, with the coiled menace of a predator deciding whether or not to stretch before killing something.
Jian gestured sharply. "Open your satchel. Prove you're not carrying the stolen token."
Kael smiled. He didn't blink as he slowly opened his satchel. The leather creaked softly, an unremarkable sound that nonetheless seemed deafening in the hushed air.
Helga's hand hovered near the hilt of her axe. The Sky Sword Sect disciples didn't flinch, confident in their own strength or just high off the smell of their own importance.
Kael tilted the satchel forward with slow, steady movements. Inside were ordinary traveler's items: dried jerky, a coiled length of rope, a half-used healing salve, a flask, a rolled-up map, a threadbare change of clothes that looked like they'd lost a fight with a squirrel and a single glowing red fragment.
Certainly no golden trinkets or stolen artifacts gleamed in the morning light. Jian didn't even look. He wasn't interested in the contents at all.
Kael noted that carefully.
"You see?" He said quietly. "Nothing of interest."
Jian raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing as if he'd just smelled something foul.
"Your answers are… convenient," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "Your posture is calm. Too calm for an innocent man under scrutiny from the Sky Sword Sect. Perhaps you're simply a better liar than most."
With deliberate flair, he took one slow step forward. The crowd audibly inhaled.
"But there is one thing a man cannot lie about," Jian continued.
He pointed straight at Kael's chest with the authority of a king declaring someone unfit for breathing.
"Reveal your Gate to me."
A low murmur passed through the gathered villagers like a wave. Even Helga gave Kael a sharp glance.
That demand was the kind that would make a grown man's legs wobble.
Because in this world, a Gate was no joke. It was extremely precious and important to a seeker. So much so that the slightest harm to it might cause irreversible damage to the seeker.
Few rarely showed even their loved ones. Even fewer dared to be asked to show it.
Forcing someone to reveal it was more than rude, it was stripping them naked in front of the other. Jian had just made it the final test. The perfect end to his little performance.
Kael stood still. Completely still.
Of course he didn't have a Gate. Not yet. That was the point.
But that made this moment perfect.
The very thing that would have marked him as a threat was now his best shield. Jian didn't want to catch Silas. He wanted a scapegoat to make a show of dismissing.
And Kael? Kael would happily be that scapegoat—for now.
He sighed, long and slow, and met Jian's eyes without a flicker of fear. "I have not awakened my First Gate."
The villagers gasped as if he'd just confessed to kicking puppies for fun. Helga's brows twitched.
Jian blinked once, then let out a short, ugly laugh. "An unawakened cur?"
His voice rang with mockery. "You lack the spirit. The ambition. The essence of the man we seek." He turned his back on Kael completely, waving one hand as if swatting away a particularly dull mosquito. "You are wasting my time."
He took a few slow steps, then paused. He glanced over his shoulder, lips curling into something that might have been a smirk or a sneer wearing a tuxedo.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
Jian reached into a pouch at his waist and flicked a small sack of silver coins toward Kael's feet.
It hit the dirt with a dull jingle, bouncing once before settling in the dust like a lump of pure, unfiltered disrespect.
"For the inconvenience," Jian said lazily. "Now get out of my sight. Riverdale has no place for the weak. Consider this a warning."
It was the kind of warning one might give a dog that wandered too close to the dinner table. Not even worth a real threat. Just a flick of the wrist and a few pity coins. But that's what made it perfect.
Kael stared at the pouch for a long moment, then gave a faint, unreadable smile.
The final insult, wrapped in a gift. Let them think him beneath notice. Let them forget his face. That silver was the price of their arrogance, and he'd take it gladly.
He wouldn't forget this moment.
He scooped up the pouch, tucking it into his satchel like it was nothing more than a free lunch.
Behind Jian, the village head finally unclenched and scooted forward with all the grace of a particularly oily ferret.
"Oh, most respectable friends from the Sky Sword Sect," he gushed, practically wringing his hands. "Please, allow me the honor of serving you tea at my mansion. We can discuss… ah, Riverdale's security concerns. Yes, yes."
Jian gave a noncommittal grunt but gestured to his disciples. The five of them turned in unison, cloaks fluttering dramatically, and began walking toward the center of town like conquering heroes heading to their private palace.
Villagers parted before them in awe and fear, bowing slightly, whispering excitedly.
Kael did not move. He watched them go, head tilted slightly. That would have been the end of it, should have been the end of it.
But then something odd happened.
As the group entered Riverdale proper, something subtle broke their perfectly coordinated formation.
Two of the disciples; one tall and thin, the other stockier with a hawkish nose quietly slowed their pace.
Without any words exchanged, they peeled off from the group. Jian and the other two continued following the fawning village head down the main path toward the mansion, laughing about something Kael couldn't hear.
But the two strays? They took a sharp right.
Toward the merchant district.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
That didn't feel right.
The Sky Sword Sect was all about unity, control, appearances. Everything they did was meant to be seen, calculated for impact.
Their earlier stance; five in formation, dramatic accusations, clear hierarchy, it had all been theatrical. Professional.
Now two were peeling off?
Inside the village, out of view?
Kael's instincts didn't just tingle, they screamed.
That kind of split was intentional.
They weren't wandering. They had a task.
A different task.
And that meant everything Jian just did, every smug word, every public dismissal… might have been nothing more than bait. A show.
Kael exhaled through his nose.
'And so the play continues.'
He turned, cloak fluttering, and followed, quiet as a shadow slipping beneath the waves.