"That’s the problem."
Elara, still listening, said quietly, "My lady, he does have a face like trouble."
Lucian looked at Elara. "You’re the one who came knocking."
Elara’s mouth twitched again. "I thought you’d be an old man with dusty fingers."
Lucian said, "I could make that happen."
Althea’s head snapped toward him. "Don’t."
Lucian blinked. "I won’t."
That answer made Althea even more tense, because he said it like it was easy.
They traveled until the first stop.
People spread out, set up small circles, checked supplies, fed beasts. Some used pills. Some meditated. Some watched others like hawks.
Althea stayed awake, sitting where she could see the most movement. She didn’t relax. She couldn’t.
Lucian sat nearby, legs stretched, leaning back with his hands behind his head like this was a casual trip.
Althea watched him for a long moment.
"You’re too comfortable," she said.
Lucian replied, "If someone comes, I’ll know."
"That’s not comforting."
He looked at her. "You want me to pretend I’m scared so you feel better."
Althea’s lips tightened. "No. I want you to take it seriously."
Lucian’s gaze softened slightly. "I am. I just don’t show it the way you do."
Elara approached with two cups of tea, handed one to Althea first, then Lucian. She didn’t sit. She stood like a guard, eyes moving.
"Two scouts reported a group shadowing the rear," Elara said. "They’re keeping distance."
Althea’s hand tightened around the cup. "Bandits."
"Not normal bandits," Elara said. "They move like cultivators. They’re waiting for a split."
Lucian lifted his cup and took a sip. "Let them wait."
Althea stared at him. "You’re not going to warn the sect leader."
Elara answered for him. "She already knows."
The sect leader walked past at that moment, calm as ever.
"If they want to test us, let them," she said. "But nobody leaves the line alone. No heroic runs. No chasing. Keep it clean."
Althea nodded once. She liked that. Simple rules.
Lucian just said, "Okay."
The second day, the road got crowded.
More sect banners. More small clans. Even a few noble escorts with fancy armor. Althea kept her hood up, but people still sensed she wasn’t ordinary. She carried authority in her shoulders.
A noble youth tried to talk to her.
"My lady, you travel without guards?"
Althea didn’t look at him. "I travel with my patience. Don’t waste it."
The youth laughed awkwardly and backed off.
Lucian watched, amused.
Althea muttered, "Don’t."
Lucian said, "I didn’t say anything."
"You were about to."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe."
Later that day, the shadowing group made their move.
Not dramatic. No loud assault. They waited for a bend where part of the caravan stretched thin. A merchant cart lagged. Two guards drifted too far. A couple of young cultivators got distracted arguing about the Trial rules.
Then the attackers slid in.
Six of them at first. All in dull gear. Faces covered. They moved like people used to killing on roads. Quick hands. Sharp blades. Silent strikes.
One went for the merchant cart. Another went for a Verdant Willow disciple carrying a pack.
Elara reacted instantly, stepping forward, hand flashing. She didn’t shout. She didn’t waste words. Her Qi moved clean and green, and a thin vine-like lash snapped out and wrapped around an attacker’s wrist, twisting it until the blade dropped.
Althea drew her sword and cut low, controlled, aiming for legs, not heads. She didn’t fight like a sect disciple. She fought like someone who’d defended a city from riots and assassins. Short moves. No show.
Lucian stood up.
He didn’t rush.