The lord's rider slows at the camp edge, one hand on his reins, eyes darting from wagon to wagon. The road bend and ditch lie quiet behind him, and the cleared barrel lane looks too neat to be chance.
Cyrus Kyre stands where the camp can see him, with the priest beside the low-held bandit captain and the scattered raiders pretending to be idle. The scene reads like a troupe at rest, if only the rider does not look too hard.
The Rider
You there, why do your wagons choke the king's road? Speak plain.
Cyrus Kyre
A broken wheel, good sir. We are clearing it, and waiting on a smith from the village.
The rider narrows his eyes, then notices the priest's stained sleeves and the captain's pale face. He does not reach for a weapon, but his posture tightens.
The Rider
A smith, is it? Strange place for a troupe. I rode out because the tax road was said to be quiet. If this is some trick, I want no part of it.
The Priest
No trick, friend. A man is wounded, and we are keeping the road clear until he can stand. If you mean to help, we can use a steady hand more than a sharp tongue.
At that, the rider's suspicion eases a fraction. He remains wary, but he has not turned away. For the moment, he is exactly where Cyrus wants him.
✓ Quest Accepted
Keep the lord's rider convinced