Ottilie yanked the merchant's cart to a stop just short of Havenmere's outer checkpoint and forced her expression into practiced boredom.
"Papers," the gate guard said, barely glancing up.
"Trade goods, dried herbs, nothing exciting," Ottilie said, handing over the forged documents Fira had prepared overnight.
The guard scanned them, stamped the papers without real scrutiny, and waved them through. Talyn, seated beside her dressed as a hired hand rather than a coalition fighter, kept his eyes down, blade hidden beneath a false cart floor.
"That was easier than I expected," Talyn murmured once they'd cleared the gate.
"Too easy," Ottilie said quietly, guiding the cart through the crowded market street. "A city this size should have tighter security given everything we suspect about Con
