Suddenly, the caravan stopped.
The sun was setting. Deep orange bled across the sky, painting the trees in shades of orange and gold.
Kyle stepped out of the wagon.
The camp was already forming in the middle of a forest. Tents were being pitched. Fires were being lit. The guards spread out, securing the perimeter.
Kyle walked among them.
Every time he passed someone, he whispered a command.
`Treat me as one of you. Don't question my presence.`
The commands sank into their minds. No one questioned him. No one looked at him twice.
He was just another mercenary. Part of the background.
He made his way through the entire camp, implanting the suggestion in as many minds as he could. Guards. Cooks. The merchants' assistants. Anyone who might notice him later.
When he was done, he was breathing heavily. The mental exertion was wearing him down.
"Not bad," Vyle said. "You have basically made yourself invisible without using the Shroud."
