Chapter 243: THE MASTER OF SIN. The face

The result was an absolute marvel. If I didn't know who these people were—and if I didn't know their voice—I wouldn't be able to tell they were my followers! They looked… they looked…

"We look like some band of beggars. Beggars who are piss-poor, even for fucking beggars. Maybe I should chop someone's limbs off so he could beg better?" Yvenna growled through clenched teeth.

Her red hair that made her head look like a blazing torch was gone. The few uneven patches that were left hid under a layer of grime and coal that extinguished whatever bits of colour there were left. Only her furious eyes still shone with colour, but I fixed that by forcing her head down.

"Don't lift your eyes, they are too conspicuous."

She shook off my hand and immediately straightened. I tsked. Whatever pleasant emotions I felt from the job well done gone because of her lack of obedience. This was going to be a problem, and soon. I would have to keep her close and in check.

I inspected my gang of cultists one last time. The straps that flattened Yvenna's breasts and her clothing, too big for her size and a man's, hid her shape, and dirt hid whatever beauty she had left. Others weren't any better. Dirty, in torn clothes, with faced gaunt and tired from our march from Tinaris… Not at all like people templars were looking for.

Bishop, the second most notable person in the group, also had his gender masked. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't pretty, but after he lost his beard, it was possible. I made him put on a dress that belonged to one of the few women besides Yvenna in our group, and though it was too short and too narrow in shoulders, it was closed enough to put some rags in the chest area.

They sagged down with each step he made, but that only added the image more authenticity if you asked me.

There wasn't much to do with the children, so I hoped that making them as dirty and poor-looking as everybody else would be enough.

I simply put on the ring of illusion.

The result brought quite a reaction from my followers. Yvenna snorted, and Hector stifled a laughter with his hands. The others, too, now had varying degrees of surprise and mirth written on their faces.

I looked down at myself. Where a moment ago were my travelling clothes now was a leather jacket put on bare (and very haired) chest and pants in grey and green stripes. My fingers, clawless and gnarled, had stars drawn on every knuckle, and my wrists were covered in wooden bracelets.

This all did not explain the laughter.

"Yvenna… No, Hector. Hector, please," I stepped towards him and raised my brows in surprise when he giggled again, "tell me what amuses you so in my current guise?"

"My lord…" Bishop coughed and repeated in a high-pitched voice, "My lord, it must be your face. It's, if I may say so… I have no other words—it's atrociously ugly."

"Interesting." I scratched my cheek, wishing I had a mirror or could at least touch the illusion. But my fingers came right through, and I reminded myself to be careful with my hands in the future. "But irrelevant. Let's go. Yvenna, you are next to me. Bishop, you are in the end… Keep doing that voice. Children, hide behind someone."

When we approached them, the gates of Glesk had a queue of visitors waiting to be let in. Two carts, a vendor and a company of five peasants all waited with visible impatience while guards checked the contents of the third cart. Its owner hovered around, constantly complaining about the treatment of his wares.

Our procession was met with a mixture of disgust, amusement, and curiosity. I pushed Yvenna's head down before she could snarl at a peasant man who let out a snort at her expense and listened in to the conversations with my sharp ears.

"Look at these beggars… Where are these freaks coming from?"

"I swear, there are more of their like each day. It's all that demon stuff. Bless me the Twelve! I hope they aren't spreading any plague."

"Goddess of Clerics, save us from the sickness. They shouldn't even be let in the city!"

"I think if any of them were sick, they'd die on their way here. There's too many for a village… I bet they came from Tinaris, no other place around here."

"Ha! Maybe they were kicked out because of their ugly faces. Just look at that guy! He's so ugly, even his mother won't call him pretty!"

This caused the company of peasants and the cart owners that joined them for gossip to laugh.

"Che, look how he glares! Let him, let him. He won't get blind from glaring at us, but we can get blind from looking at him, ha-ha-ha!"

"He should ask money to see his face, like these freaks in travelling circuses."

"Nah, we should ask money for seeing it and not straightening it up with our fists!"

Maybe I should've tried to put the ring off and on again, but it was too late now. Besides… after the few experiments I did earlier, I had a feeling that it was normal for it to make the illusory disguises as… comical.

Yes, this was certainly comical. For them. Meanwhile, I had to force myself to keep quiet. The humiliation! Even if this wasn't my face, the words hurt more than Hell's fire. Must've been because I was used to the latter, but words—how long it was since anyone mocked me like this? I couldn't remember. Did that ever happen?

When the carts and the peasants finally walked through the gates, I let out a breath of relief. Then I barely breathed at all, because the final test came. If we failed here, my mission, which I already had too little time to complete, would now be in even worse danger.

My mission.