That is a little harder to notice, especially if there's a lot going on, though by now I expect he's looked back on the thought and realized it. Oh. Alright, we should assume they know you're a magic flying Man, at minimum. Is that enough to, ah, 'snap through'?

Maybe not here. There are magic and powers that my kind of magic doesn't count. Maybe they'll think it's that and it'll be the same as if I passed it off as technology.

That could be, yes. And no one knows anything about Men except that you're not supposed to be around yet.

Oh, that's much better. I don't suppose I can count on people not knowing that Men can't fly?

You can't count on my brother not noticing that anything biological and human shaped shouldn't be able to fly, but he might generate interesting alternative explanations.

I suppose he doesn't even know about the flying, just about crossing the sea fast enough to carry messages. Plenty of false trails there.

At least until someone tells him how I arrived.

I can make sure no one in our camp talks to them.

Is that something you'd normally do? It sounds like giving up on what's already a diplomatic disaster, and I am still just one person.

I have considered a number of approaches when we reach the other shore, everything from 'challenge my brother to a duel for the crown' - I think he'd accept - to 'move everyone across the continent and never contact them' - to 'pretend that was unfortunate how the Enemy lit the boats on fire, good thing we found a safe way across so quickly and no harm done'.

The less they know the safer it is for me, but even in the worst case none of them are practitioners or involved with the practice. That limits the risk.

And how exactly does this risk likeliest manifest?

Bad luck not otherwise specified. It's not that everything that can go wrong will, unless the spirits really hate you, more that everything you do is against resistance and if it backfires will do so in a way that hurts you.
It's entirely possible to get around this by being careful, minimize what luck can do, but then the whole thing adds up. In extreme cases the universe just arranges your death. Less often by strings of coincidences than by sending something after you, but nothing's off the table.

That inclines me to settle far away and ignore the other host.

How many of them are there, and how likely are they to spread it around if they do figure it out? People who know nothing of any of this rarely score badly enough that they even notice; it would take a lot of people to add up to a problem.

My brother should still after all their losses command nearly a hundred thousand people, and he'd probably try to come up with an exploit or a defense against you that'd involve telling lots of them, and he does really dangerous things. And if they were sufficiently desperate they might try to capture and interrogate someone who knew enough about it. That's very unlikely but a major disaster should it occur.

Suddenly staying very far away no longer sounds like an overreaction.

Irissë or Findekáno and I can at least fly over and find somewhere accessible where they aren't.

Good idea. Thank you.

Any time.

We were also planning on verifying where the Enemy's fortress is and eavesdropping on the Fëanorians from the sky. You should probably get veto power on those; your war.

I can't risk all three of you at once. You and Irissë can go.

Makes sense. Hopefully we'll end up with nothing dramatically unexpected to report.

That is my sincere desire indeed. Stars guide you, Amber.

That is in hindsight an obvious expression for a world with bad astronomy and also oddly accurate.

And you, Your Grace.

There aren't many people outside, and they don't stare. It's windy.

Looks like most people have the right idea, being inside.

The ornate tent is the obvious one to be not outside in, maybe Irissë or Artanis is there.

They both are. "Hello, Amber!"