Nathan and Keith found an unexpected sense of fulfilment in performing mundane tasks around town. As they tilled the fields under the hot sun, their hands buried in the rich, warm soil, there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing they were helping to nurture life from the earth. The repetitive rhythm of clearing out barns and scrubbing away cow pies became almost meditative, a stark but welcome contrast to the chaos of battle. Dusting off the shelves of a neglected library and sweeping the town streets clean felt like small yet meaningful contributions to the community, restoring a sense of order and care. Even washing dishes in a bustling kitchen brought its own kind of joy as they worked in tandem, exchanging easy banter and light-hearted jabs. And when they reunited a lost pet with a tearfully happy little girl, the genuine smiles on their faces spoke volumes. For Nathan and Keith, these simple moments were a reminder of life beyond conflict, one where small acts of kindness and hard work forged bonds and brought peace in ways that clashing swords never could.
On the other hand, Harald's discomfort was palpable throughout the tasks. He gritted his teeth, his face contorted in a mix of frustration and suppressed annoyance, though he did his best to maintain a veneer of patience. He witnessed Nathan and Keith's almost blissful contentment as they carried out each chore, and he felt incredibly concerned if something during their first job had affected them in their heads.
After a particularly gruelling day, the trio slumped into their usual spot at a local tavern one evening. Harald could only stare at his meal, feeling exhausted, while Nathan and Keith quietly savoured theirs, bite after bite.
Unable to contain his frustration any longer, Harald broke the silence. "This, meine Freunde, is the last straw," he said, his voice tinged with both fatigue and desperation. "I implore you both, let us pick a task from the freelancer guild's job board that involves actual fighting and adventuring. I mean, are we freelancers, or are we glorified handymen?"
Keith, chewing slowly on a piece of bread, looked over at Harald with a wry smile. "H, me good guv, a glorified handyman is what a freelancer is. Just take a gander at the job board, and you'll see all kinds of jobs for all sorts of people, even those who don't go adventuring like us." Keith took a grateful swig from his tankard of ale before he continued, "Anyway, we're making a decent haul doing the boring work, while most other adventuring types skip 'em and always risk their heads for gold and glory. Didn't work so well for us the last time, innit?"
Harald cringed at the reminder of their previous failure. "Ah, yes, the kobold den. I can still feel the crossbow bolts in my knee."
Nathan, who had been quietly listening, nodded thoughtfully. "We were lucky that Keith had the foresight to scavenge money from the dead bandits. Thanks to that, we managed to cover the job's incompletion fine, our room and board, repairs to our equipment, and our medical expenses."
Keith's eyes twinkled with a hint of pride. "We even managed to save a bit extra after paying for all that. Ain't nothing like looking ahead."
Nathan gave Harald a reassuring smile. "Anyway, we've been getting our footing, and the guild board is full of opportunities. There's bound to be a job that suits our skills and gives us the adventure we're looking for." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "You know, speaking of skills, where did you learn to fight like the way you did against those brigands? I've never seen anyone throwing punches like yours before."
Keith chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, mate. It's like watching you float around like a butterfly before you sting 'em like a bee or something. Even I could see that you weren't just brawling yourself out of trouble."
Harald, slightly caught off guard, shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Oh, that? I used to learn Olympian fist fighting when I was younger. You see, the house I served believed that mages should always be armed in more ways than one, especially in situations where using magic would prove disadvantageous. Since my old family used to put so much importance into martial training, I naturally went in the opposite direction and focused on my pyromancy, thinking that would be all I needed to defend myself." The pyromancer looked wistful as he chuckled, saying, "Now, I feel as if the universe had rebuked me for being an obstinate little brat."
"Well, at least you've survived your ordeal, and you'll have more opportunities to catch up in your training. Why, I think I might even be tempted to learn some magic from you someday," Nathan said with a laugh.
"Opportunities, you say…" Harald said, before bowing his head with an air of contemplation. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "Given our initial foray into a combat-focused job, it is apparent that we must recalibrate our approach. To that end, I propose that we focus on accumulating capital through a series of safe, yet unremarkable tasks. Concurrently, we should dedicate our spare moments to honing our skills and acquiring new ones that may elevate us to a position of greater prominence."
Harald was expecting a response from his companions, but all he got was a blank stare from Keith, who then asked, "D'you mind repeating all of that, perhaps a mite slowly?"
Nathan chuckled. "I think Harald said that we should stick with the boring jobs, while we sharpen our skills and learn new ones," he explained, before turning to Harald. "But you know, that is a very good idea. Building up our resources while enhancing our capabilities would give us a good head start for coming job opportunities. But, where do you suggest we start?"
Harald grinned enthusiastically. "I trust you know a thing or two about Dunsgoil Hill, Herr Festivus?" he asked.
Nathan's eyes lit up in recognition as he said, "I have heard of it from travellers who passed by my home village. It's a city on a small hill surrounded by a natural stone wall located somewhere east of Lyonsmeade. Supposedly, the city was thriving from merchants and adventurers bringing in trade there."
"You are correct, mein Herr!" Harald exclaimed. "Also there, we would find Dunsgoil Hall, a renowned school offering a broad spectrum of academic and vocational lessons. Such an environment would undoubtedly provide ample opportunities for advancement."
Nathan nodded appreciatively. "I see. I suppose we could see what new things we can learn from there."
Keith, however, was less enthused. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and shot a dubious look at Harald. "Eh…I dunno, H. All that book learning sounds like a right drag. I prefer to do me learning out there, in the field."
Harald raised an eyebrow, his tone becoming more persuasive. "Ah, but consider this: the local freelancer's guild in Dunsgoil Hill is especially active, and freelancers all over are in high demand for any jobs, so even menial work would most likely turn out a profit for us."
Keith's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Is that right? Could be worth a look, I suppose."
Nathan smiled, seeing the shift in Keith's demeanour. "That's right, Keith. If the guild is as bustling as Harald said, it could be the perfect opportunity to gain experience while we comfortably support ourselves."
Keith leaned back, still processing the idea, but looking clearly intrigued. "Alright. If it means more opportunities and better pay, I reckon I can handle a bit of bookwork. Just don't expect me to turn into a scholar or something boring like that."
Harald clapped his hands once as his face broke into a satisfied grin. "Exzellent! We shall proceed with this plan. In the meantime, we will tie up any loose ends we may have left in this town while we procure transport for Dunsgoil Hill. With any luck, we could well be on our way the day after tomorrow. Now, meine Herren…" Harald, with a glint of excitement in his eyes, raised his mug first, looking at Nathan and Keith with a hopeful gaze. "…do we have an accord?" he said, his voice tinged with a hint of anticipation.
Nathan, ever calm and composed, gave a small nod, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "We do, Herr Nachtwasser," he replied simply, lifting his mug to meet Harald's.
Keith, leaning back with a playful grin, added, "Aye, let's give it a go!" as he raised his own mug.
With a mutual understanding and the camaraderie that had long bound them together, Dreisterne clanked their mugs together with a resonant thunk. For a brief moment, they locked eyes, sharing silent yet firm agreement on the path ahead. They drank deeply, the taste of ale mingling with the unspoken hopes that their latest venture would lead to success, and, just maybe, a bit of fortune as well.
Five days passed in a blur, each one marked by preparations and gathering supplies. By the time they were ready to leave Lyonsmeade, Dreisterne had secured a ride with a seasoned, old travelling merchant who was more than willing to accommodate them in exchange for their services as protection on the road. The party set off in mid-afternoon, quietly saying their goodbyes to Lyonsmeade through the caravan's windows before settling into their seats for the journey.
Dreisterne felt a rare sense of calm settle over them as the caravan rumbled along the winding road. The gentle creak of the wooden wheels against the dirt road and the gentle, rhythmic sway of the caravan eased the tension from their bodies. The seats, padded and surprisingly comfortable, and the soft, amber glow of lanterns hanging from the ceiling bathed the interior in a warm, inviting light, casting flickering shadows that danced lazily across the wooden walls. The clinking of the merchant's goods behind provided a comforting backdrop. For now, the trio embraced a small respite, sharing silent glances that spoke of a well-deserved break and a hopeful anticipation of what lay ahead.
Harald, however, was not entirely at ease. He fidgeted with the edges of his jacket and glanced out the window with a frown. "Nathan, I must say that I find it somewhat disconcerting that we agreed to become bodyguards for this trip. I had hoped we could limit our foray into martial endeavours until we are well and thoroughly prepared."
Nathan, leaning back with a calm demeanour, replied, "I see where you're coming from, Harald, but monsters and bandits don't just hide in their strongholds, you know? Common wisdom among travellers said that one should always expect ambushes everywhere on the road, much like the ambush we faced from Keith's former employer. Like it or not, we still need actual battle experience for more dangerous run-ins in the future."
Keith, seated comfortably across from Harald, chimed in with a grin. "Yeah, H. Think of it as practice. Besides, the boss up front's willing to cover up for the trip so long as we do our part. Beats sleeping on the ground and eating dried meat and bread for days!"
Harald sighed, still looking a bit begrudging but not entirely unswayed. "Very well. I suppose it will suffice for now." He pulled out his notebook, flipping through the pages with a concentrated look.
Nathan, curious, leaned over slightly. "What are you working on there, Harald?"
Harald looked up, a glint of secrecy in his eye. "Ah, it's nothing of immediate concern. I prefer to share my thoughts once I have them fully formulated. For now, I would appreciate it if you would respect my privacy."
Nathan raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement. "I'll leave you to it, then."
Night fell a few hours later, and the caravan pulled over to a roadside clearing so the party could camp there for the night. The campfire crackled cheerfully as the party set up their temporary camp. The scent of fresh pine and earth in the night intermingled with the savoury aroma of meat roasting over the fire wafting through the camp, leaving the campers feeling comfortable and hungry for their upcoming meal. While waiting for their dinner, Nathan, Harald, and Keith were engaged in conversation with the merchant, sharing stories of adventures, narrow escapes, and encounters with strange characters on the open road, to name a few.
"You know…" the merchant said, with a nostalgic smile, "…most adventurers either become quite seasoned before they tackle a kobold den or meet their end after making it their very first job. To hear that you young fellows survived such an encounter is impressive, though I must admit, I am rather surprised."
Harald, still scribbling in his notebook but listening attentively, glanced up and replied with a touch of pride, "Our journey so far was not without its hardships, but we managed. We hope to grow stronger with each challenge."
The merchant's gaze softened as he continued, "Ah, those were the days when I too dreamed of grand quests and glory. Yet here I am, a humble trader, reminiscing about my own beginnings before I was swept into the world of business. I've managed to make a good living out of it if I do say so myself."
As the merchant's tales wove into stories of his early career, Harald's eyes sparkled with a mix of ambition and mischief. "You know, mein Herr…" he declared loudly, "...my friends and I have grand plans. One day, we shall become nobles and rule over our own domain. Meeting you has been fortuitous, for we shall learn how to amass the capital and experience required for our grand plan."
Nathan's eyes widened in surprise. "Uh, Harald? Surely you know well enough to not tell everybody about your aspirations until you're sure you can achieve them?"
Keith, barely containing his amusement, added, "Aye, I have to agree with Nate. You're making us sound like a bunch of snotty-nosed braggarts."
The merchant, taken aback but amused, chuckled. "Nobles, you say? Well, if you're truly set on such a path, I suppose you could take up apprenticeships under merchants once you reach Dunsgoil Hill. Might teach you a thing or two about business and administration."
Harald leaned forward, his eyes glinting with determination. "Or maybe you could take us on as apprentices? You seem to know your way around the trade, and we're quick learners."
The merchant chuckled as he shook his head. "I'm so sorry, young man. Apprenticeship isn't something I offer on a whim, and besides, I'm sure you'll find your own way to greatness without my intervention."
But Harald didn't back down. "Come on, we'd make it worth your while," he pressed, his tone edging on insistent. "Think about it, mein Herr: You would have three more hands to help with your goods, learn the trade from the ground up."
The merchant sighed, his patience wearing thin. "No, lad. That's not how it works. I'm flattered by your interest, but you'll need to look elsewhere."
Harald's enthusiasm finally dimmed, but he muttered under his breath, "Had to give it a shot, though."
Nathan and Keith exchanged glances, trying to suppress their smiles at Harald's persistence. Keith, shaking his head, muttered "Leave it to you to charm anyone with that pushiness, H."
The peaceful atmosphere around the camp was abruptly interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves from the bushes behind the party. Dreisterne tensed, hands instinctively moving towards their weapons. The merchant paused mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he reached for his side sword, ready for any potential threat. Out from the bushes stumbled a girl, clad in a tattered red hooded cloak, her movements weak and unsteady. As she staggered closer, the horror of the situation became clear: a knife jutted out from her stomach, blood seeping through her cloak.
"Heavens!" Nathan exclaimed, rushing to the girl's side without a second thought. Keith and Harald followed suit, albeit more cautiously, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of an ambush.
Nathan gently lowered the girl to the ground, carefully pulling back her hood to reveal a cascade of shimmering golden hair. For a brief moment, he was entranced by its beauty, the way it glimmered even in the dim light of the fire.
But the urgency of the situation quickly snapped him back to reality. Nathan knew he had to act quickly but carefully; removing the knife was a delicate procedure that, if done incorrectly, could cause more damage. He took a deep breath, his face set in determination, and addressed the girl in a calm, steady voice. "I need to remove the knife, alright? This is going to hurt, but I'll be as gentle as I can."
As he spoke, he looked around, grabbing a clean piece of cloth from his pack and signalling to Keith and Harald. "Keith, hold her shoulders steady. Harald, get ready to hand me that cloth down the moment the knife is out," he instructed, his tone commanding but controlled, and Harald and Keith followed his instructions to a tee.
Nathan leaned over the girl, his hands steady. He examined the knife's position closely, making sure not to shift it too much. He knew he needed to pull it out at the same angle it had gone in to avoid any additional tearing. With a firm grip on the knife handle, he gave the girl a reassuring nod. "On three," he whispered. "One... two..."
Nathan pulled the knife out in a single, quick, and smooth motion, the blade slick with blood. The girl let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing in pain, but Nathan was ready. Almost instantly, he pressed the clean cloth Harald handed him against the wound, applying firm pressure to stem the bleeding.
"Hold on, you're doing great," Nathan said, his voice calm but urgent as he began to dress the wound with bandages from his pack. "We're not losing you tonight." He worked methodically, his experience and focus evident in every precise move, ensuring the girl's wound was securely dressed and the bleeding controlled as best as he could. "The blade hasn't hit anything vital," Nathan murmured, his tone a mix of relief and concentration, "but the bleeding is severe. We must-"
The girl's hand weakly gripped Nathan's arm, her voice a faint whisper, "Watch out… they're… coming..!"
As if on cue, a band of rough-looking bandits jumped in from the shadows, their movements swift and practiced. They fanned out around the camp, surrounding Dreisterne in a wide, threatening arc. The flickering firelight cast eerie, shifting shadows across their faces, highlighting their snarls and grimaces as they raised their weapons.
"Bloody hell…" Keith cursed. He, Harald, and the merchant sprang to their feet, and immediately formed a defensive semi-circle around Nathan and the girl as they were hunched in their fighting stances, their eyes fixed upon the enclosing gang.
The leader of the gang was a tall, scarred man with a wicked grin brandishing a notched sword. His eyes gleamed with malice as he took a step forward from his throng, sizing up his prospective victims. His eyes turned to the girl Nathan was nursing. "Sure is nice of her to lead us to even more loot, eh boys?" he jeered, his rough voice thick with a coarse accent, met by a chorus of crude laughter from his underlings. Turning his attention to Dreisterne, he continued, his tone mockingly cordial. "Now, how 'bout you just be good lads and let us help ourselves to your… well, everything. Even the girl, eh? We might just let you live."
Harald, his face a mask of determination, stepped forward and fixed his hat. "Assuming what happened to this young lady was your doing, we're more interested in making a different offer for your ilk, ihr Schurken: your lives for hers."
The bandit let out a low, sinister chuckle as he saw the fireball crackling in Harald's hand. "Ah…so, nasty business it is, then?" he growled, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. He spat on the ground, gripping his sword tighter. With the grin of a hungry jackal, he uttered, "Take 'em!"
The bandits surged ahead, a ragtag but fierce wave of chaos, brandishing their mismatched weapons with murderous intent. They howled and jeered, closing in on Dreisterne from all sides, the campfire's flickering light casting wild shadows over their menacing figures as they charged. However, the frontlines would soon regret charging in when Harald spread out a wave of fire with his hand, quickly immolating a handful of the bandits grouped up in the fire spell's effective radius. The rest of the gang, the leader included, were forced to step back and scatter, not wanting to catch the fire from their writhing, burning comrades.
"Anyone else!?" Harald taunted, grinning gleefully at the frightened bandits. He breathed deep, and ready to unleash another fire wave when the merchant gripped his shoulder.
"Stop, Harald!" the old man warned, his face showing clear concern. "Look around!"
In his focus to neutralise the bandits as quickly as possible, he didn't realise that his fire spells had razed not just the bandits, but also some patches of grass and leaves on the ground, and some of them burned dangerously close to the forest. Harald cursed under his breath, realising that he needed to hold back on his spells lest he would burn the forest down. Sensing the pyromancer's hesitation, the bandits advanced, albeit warily, ready to step back in case the pyromancer cast his spell again.
"Nate, patch her up quick! We'll handle these gits!" Keith cried as he and his allies held the line.
The defenders were thankful that there weren't any marksmen among the bandits' ranks, making dealing with them in close range relatively easier. Keith wielded his sword and shield as if they were part of his body, as he deflected and riposted enemy attacks with practised ease. Meanwhile, Harald couldn't freely launch his fire spells in the forest area, so he conjured what looked like shields made of fire at the palm of his hands, and they proved to be excellent deterrents against the bandits, preventing them from even approaching him. The merchant fare quite well himself at his end. Though clearly older and perhaps past his prime, the man showed surprising prowess with his side sword and clenched gauntlet-clad fist as he parried blows, delivered sharp counterattacks, and tossed back any bandit who almost slithered past his defences, holding his ground admirably.
However, the bandit leader caught the defenders by surprise when he leapt over the crowd, using everyone he stepped on as stepping stones to bypass the defensive line. With a jackal's glee, he lunged at Nathan who was still hunched over the wounded girl. Nathan saw the bandit leader rushing in his direction from the corner of his eye, and he immediately shielded the girl with his back. While his gambeson protected him from the worst of the cut, Nathan still let out a deep and agonizing groan when he felt the sharp sting of a blade slicing across his back. The bandit leader attempted to cut Nathan in half when Keith showed up from nowhere, swinging his shield with all his might and smashing it into the assailant, sending him sprawling back.
"Oi, Nate! You alright?!" Keith called out, never taking his eyes off the snarling bandit leader in front of him.
Nathan gritted his teeth against the pain, his hands moving swiftly as he wrapped the bandage around the girl's wound. "I'm fine. Just keep them off me a bit longer."
Meanwhile, Harald was forced to deactivate his fire barrier, feeling the searing heat of his continually flowing mana threaten to boil his blood. Some of the more reckless bandits began charging at Harald, but they didn't expect the pyromancer to bob, weave, and sidestep his way around the bandits' attacks, countering with punches delivered to their weak points. Despite his agility and well-aimed blows, there was a sluggishness to his movements. His arms felt heavier with each punch, and his timing was off, missing a few opportunities to deliver a more decisive blow. Each bandit he managed to drop required a barrage of hits; seven, sometimes eight, before they crumpled to the ground. Sweat poured down his face, and his breath came in ragged bursts. Harald's frustration grew, as he could feel his degraded strength and form; the results of years of neglected training. Seven blows for each bandit was too much, and he was dissatisfied with the strain he felt in every move. Nevertheless, he got his head back into the battle and went to assist the merchant.
Keith fought to hold his ground, each block and parry growing more desperate against the bandit leader's onslaught. The bandit moved with a fluid, unpredictable grace—darting in and out, spinning and leaping with a wild energy that kept Keith on the defensive. His attacks came from unexpected angles; an upward slash that transitioned seamlessly into a sideways cut, a thrust that twisted into a feint before a sweeping strike. Keith's shield absorbed the blows, but his arms were beginning to feel the strain. Sweat dripped down his brow as he narrowly deflected a strike aimed at his head. "Anytime you're ready, Nate!" he shouted, frustration and urgency leaking into his voice.
The bandit leader grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with manic delight. "C'mon, boyo! I've had fun with ladies who lasted much longer than you!" he said as he spun low, swiping at Keith's legs.
Keith barely hopped back in time, his shield trembling from the force of the near miss. The taunts and relentless pressure were wearing on him, and he knew he couldn't keep this up much longer.
Nearby, Nathan was finishing his task, pulling the bandage tight around the girl's wound. "Done!" he called out, grabbing his greatsword with a determined grip. He launched himself forward, placing himself at Keith's side just in time to deflect the bandit leader's vicious slash with a heavy, resounding clang. The two stood side by side, their breathing synchronized as they settled into a rhythm.
Now together, Keith and Nathan formed a formidable duo. Nathan's greatsword danced in wide arcs, his powerful strikes forcing the bandit leader to retreat or dodge, breaking his fluid assault. Meanwhile, Keith, with his shield and sword, focused on close defense, blocking any attempts to exploit gaps in their defense and countering with precise jabs and thrusts. Each step they took was calculated, covering each other's backs as they pushed the bandit leader into a tighter space. Still, the bandit leader's agility made him a slippery opponent. He flipped over Nathan's swing, landing behind him and immediately going for a low strike, only for Keith to intercept with a quick parry.
"Nice try, git!" Keith muttered, his breath laboured.
The bandit leader hissed in frustration, unable to find an opening like before.
Slowly, they began to turn the tide. With each passing moment, the bandit leader's confidence waned, his attacks becoming more reckless. Keith exploited a misstep, bashing his shield into the bandit's side, knocking him off balance. Seizing the opportunity, Nathan swung his greatsword with all his might. The blade sliced through the air, catching the bandit leader across the chest. The man staggered back, a pained grimace twisting his face as blood seeped through the fresh gash. His breath came in ragged gasps, his earlier bravado replaced with a desperate fury.
The battle seemed to be nearing its end as Nathan and Keith's combined might began to overwhelm the bandit leader. But just when victory appeared certain, a new threat emerged from the corner of Nathan's eye. One of the remaining bandits produced a bottle torch, its cloth wick already lit and flickering ominously. He hurled it toward the merchant's caravan, the arc of its flight clear and deadly, threatening to turn the whole wooden structure into a blazing inferno.
"Look out!" the merchant shouted, his voice breaking with panic.
Harald spotted the imminent danger and quickly attempted to conjure a fireball to intercept it, but an opponent blindsided him with a hard blow to the side, knocking him off his feet. The fireball fizzled out, its energy scattering harmlessly in the air as Harald struggled to regain his balance.
Nathan's eyes narrowed. There wasn't a moment to waste. Springing into action, he bolted toward the caravan, his boots pounding swiftly against the earth. As he neared, he used the caravan's rear stair lift as a springboard, launching himself high into the air. With a perfectly timed slash, he swung his greatsword at the incoming fire bottle, and his blade connected with the bottle, shattering it in mid-air. The glass broke apart with a sharp crack, and the flaming liquid spilt out in a wide spray, dousing itself harmlessly across the ground far from the caravan.
Nathan landed with a graceful roll, his eyes performing a quick scan of the caravan before he rushed back to Keith's side as he rejoined the fight against the bandit leader, who seemed momentarily shaken by Nathan's daring manoeuvre. Nathan and Keith pressed on their assault, moving in tandem as their weapons worked seamlessly to close off the bandit leader's avenues of escape. The bandit leader, no longer able to keep up with his erratic, unpredictable style, found himself cornered and overwhelmed. Keith landed a crushing shield bash to the leader's ribs, staggering him backwards. Nathan followed up, stepping in with a powerful downward slash that the leader barely managed to parry. His stance broke just enough to create an opening. Nathan seized the moment—he lunged forward and slashed his greatsword across the bandit leader's chest, leaving a deeper, bloodier gash than before. The leader's eyes were wide with shock and rage, fixed upon the blood that flowed from his gaping wound on the heart, and it was not long before his lifeless husk crumpled into the ground.
Seeing their leader drop dead, the surviving bandits exchanged fearful glances, their morale well and truly broken. Then, they began to retreat, sprinting into the darkness of the forest. The clamour of their panicked footsteps faded into the night, leaving behind the stillness of the clearing. As the last of the bandits disappeared into the darkness, a tense silence fell over the camp. The fire crackled quietly, casting flickering shadows on the exhausted, bloodied group. Dreisterne had survived the night.
However, there's still no time to rest. The tension in the air was palpable as the party realized the dire state of the young girl. Even with her wounds staunched and dressed, it was clear that she had lost too much blood before she appeared before the party. The girl was pale and teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.
"Damn it," Nathan muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of concern and determination. "She's lost too much blood. We need to get her help, and fast."
The merchant chimed in with a solution. "There's a town called Wayside not far from here. The local temple has skilled Healers. If we make haste, we might just save her."
"Then we ain't wasting no time, are we?" Keith declared, already moving to ready the caravan. "H, help me get this girl on board."
Harald nodded, his expression grave. "Ja, schnell!" he said as he helped Keith carry her into the caravan.
Once the girl was settled, the caravan roared to life, racing towards Wayside. Nathan stayed close, his hands gently but firmly holding the makeshift bandage in place. He spoke softly to the girl, his voice carrying a desperate hope. "Stay with us," he murmured. "We're almost there. Just a little longer."
The caravan jolted over the uneven ground, each jolt making Nathan's heart race with anxiety. He tried to minimize the impact on the girl, wincing with every rough bump.
Keith, glancing back from the driver's seat, unable to mask his concern. "How's she holding up, Nate?"
"She's still breathing," Nathan replied through gritted teeth, his voice strained.
As the caravan finally rolled into Wayside, it came to a screeching halt in front of the town temple. The temple doors swung open, and a team of Healers rushed out with practised urgency.
Nathan gently handed the girl over, his exhaustion and relief evident. "Please, help her," he implored, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his worry.
The Healers took the girl inside, their expressions focused and serious, as Nathan, Keith, and Harald watched with bated breath, hoping their swift action would be enough to save the young girl's life.
The head healer, a matronly woman with a calm yet authoritative presence, bowed her head in gratitude. "Thank you for bringing Selena back to us. She is one of our own, an apprentice healer here at the temple. You have done us a great service."
Nathan nodded, his voice steady but serious while he took a mental note of her name. "We couldn't just leave her. She deserves the best care."
"Indeed," the head healer agreed, but her brow furrowed slightly. "Selena is diligent, always eager to help. She went into the forest in the afternoon earlier to gather some medicinal herbs, but she should have been back by sundown. We were starting to worry, but we didn't expect…" Her words trailed off as her gaze shifted to the door leading to the treatment room Selena was taken into. "What happened out there?"
Nathan took a breath, steadying himself before he spoke. "When we found her, she'd already lost a lot of blood. She was being chased by a group of bandits. It looked like she tried to defend herself, but they overwhelmed her."
The head healer's eyes widened with alarm, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oh, dear... We've had more reports of bandits lately, but I never imagined they would go after one of our own. Thank the stars you arrived when you did."
"She's strong. She fought hard to make it out alive, but she wouldn't have lasted much longer without help," Nathan said plainly, his voice tinged with exhaustion
The healer nodded, a mix of concern and resolve in her expression. "You've done more than most would in such a situation. Please, stay the night here at the temple. We will tend to your wounds, and you can rest while we do everything we can for Selena."
The party, though weary from their ordeal, exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. The idea of a safe place to rest was too tempting to refuse.
That night, the Healers worked their magic, tending to the party's injuries with expert care. Nathan's cut, though painful, was shallow, and it had healed completely, leaving no trace of the wound. Harald, Keith, and the merchant fared similarly, waking up with their injuries fully mended.
As the sun rose over Wayside, Nathan found himself lingering by Selena's bedside, his concern evident. The head Healer approached, her expression reassuring.
"Do not worry yourself too much, young man," she said softly. "Selena is strong, and she will recover. You've done all you can."
Nathan nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on the girl's peaceful face. "I just want to be sure she's alright. She's been through so much."
The head Healer smiled kindly. "You have a good heart, Mr. Festivus. You are welcome to stay until she awakens if you like."
Nathan felt tempted to stay for a while more, just to make sure Selena would be alright. However, as if reading his mind, the merchant kindly patted Nathan's shoulder and said, "The schedule calls, Nathan. I'm afraid we could not accept Madam Healer's offer."
"I see. Of course, sir." With a final glance at Selena, Nathan thanked the head Healer again before he reluctantly left.
The party had a quick breakfast provided by the Healers. Once they were done, the caravan returned to the road for Dunsgoil Hill. While the journey was underway, Keith couldn't resist taking a few jabs at Nathan's obvious concern for the girl.
"Nate, you knight in shining armour," Keith began, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "You really went above and beyond back there with the girl, didn't you? Didn't know you've had such a soft spot for damsels in distress."
Harald joined in, and his tone felt like a hundred elbows playfully nudging at Nathan's sides. "Indeed, mein Freund. Your display of chivalry was nothing short of...how do they say...grossly overt? It was almost as if you were smitten, ja?"
Nathan rolled his eyes, though there was a faint hint of a blush on his cheeks. "Oh, spare me. I was just doing what anyone would do."
"Sure, sure," Keith chuckled, clapping Nathan on the back. "But you can't blame us for pointing that out to you, mate. Besides, we don't often see you getting all flustered over a pretty lass."
"I did not fluster, Mr. Nimbus," Nathan raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation. "I assure you, I was perfectly composed the entire time."
Harald gave a mock bow. "Ah, but of course, Herr Festivus. Your poise is truly a thing to admire."
Nathan could only reply with a sigh, shaking his head with a smirk to his friends.
And the road went on for Dreisterne, their banter continued while Keith and Harald took every opportunity to rib Nathan about his heroic display. Despite the teasing, there was a warmth in their camaraderie, a bond strengthened by the trials they had faced together. And though Nathan protested, there was no denying that a small part of him was glad to see his friends in such high spirits after the ordeal, and he also hoped that he could see a hale and hearty Selena up and about if his road would take him back to her in the future.