Arland ran through the underbrush, quickly following the trail the bandits had left when they approached the road. Within moments, he found himself at the edge of a camp. He quickly checked around and was relieved to find that none had remained behind.

"Fucking newbies left their camp unguarded..." He grumbled as he approached a cage at the edge of the camp.

Inside, he saw a man and woman curled up, pressing themselves to the far side of the cage. Both were dressed in once-fancy clothing, signaling that they were fairly wealthy, perhaps even nobility. Arland stepped around to the front, before drawing his sword and striking the lock. The weak, mostly rusted metal easily gave way, shearing apart with a single strike.

Arland locked eyes with the male, "Relax. I'm not with them. I'm with a passing caravan. I killed the bandits, so join me or don't. The choice is yours."

He went to turn away when the man called out, "WAIT!"

Arland turned back, so the man continued, "Please wait, sir. It's my wife. She can't walk. She broke her ankle when they overtook the carriage. It hasn't been treated yet."

"So carry her."

"I... I can't, sir..." The man's face dropped, "I haven't eaten in days... I likely barely have the strength to carry myself..."

Arland sighed, then leaned down, taking the woman's arm and pulling her up and over his shoulder, before standing, "Now, come. We need to catch up to the caravan, lest we be caught out alone by the next bunch of bandits."

They made their way back to the road, following the same trail Arland had followed before. The man struggled to keep up with Arland, even at an easy pace. He wheezed and gasped, before finally speaking, "Who... are you?"

"Arland."

The man wheezed, "No... Last name?"

"No," Arland answered, before turning and throwing the man over his other shoulder. The man went to answer but Arland cut him off, "I'll go slower with you both, but I'll still be faster than leading you."

And with that, Arland set off at a steady jog, doing his best to keep the pair steady on his shoulders.

As he rounded the bend, he saw the forest thinning before giving way to a field. The caravan had stopped and began setting up for camp for the evening. As he approached, the caravan master walked over and addressed him.

"You took a while," He said.

"And I thought you wouldn't wait for me."

"You're paying us. Truth be told, I should've sent a guard with you."

Arland set the man down, "You should've. Get them some food. And fetch a doctor for her ankle."

The caravan master called over a couple of men who helped the couple off, out of sight. Arland turned to head for the lead carriage - the one he'd been assigned to sleep in.

***

Leera sheathed her sword as the final goblin fell. She looked around at the bodies, "I don't suppose they have anything worth taking."

"It's doubtful," a nearby man said as he wiped his blade off on a corpse, the sticky goblin blood trailing and smearing along the length of steel. "They are just goblins, after all. They're not known for hoarding wealth."

Leera nodded and sat down on one of the corpses, "We should be getting on. You lot have to head back."

"You're not coming?" Another woman said, wiping her hands on her robes while her staff rested against her shoulder.

"Nah. I've got business in the Devilwoods, so I'll be heading that way."

"What about your share of the reward?" The first man said.

Leera sighed and stood, "Keep it. Or leave it with the guild counter if you insist I take it." Leera walked over and mounted a horse, turning it towards the kingdom's eastern border.

The group watched her go before turning and heading home themselves.

As Leera rode, the scenery blurred by. She had a single purpose, "Arland's gonna be pissed at me for this, to say nothing of Valden getting on my case..."

She shook her head as she raced by the countryside. The thought of seeing Arland again was enough to send her heart racing.

***

Arland awoke to the sound of someone banging on the door. He pulled on his boots, grabbed his blade, and walked over to the door of the inn room he'd rented. He opened the door to find a red-faced caravan master standing there. "It's early to go banging on doors..."

"Sorry, but I heard you were planning on splitting off from the caravan. You know I don't offer refunds if you leave us."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. But I'm heading on ahead. It's easier to get through the forest with allies than alone. But now that we're through, I'm setting off alone."

The caravan master grunted, "Fine. You're good with that blade though. If you ever need help, look me up. My name is Sander."

Arland smiled, "Arland."

The two shook hands before Arland closed his door. He moved about to dress, pack, and gather his gear. He stopped at the door and took one final look around the room to ensure he wasn't forgetting anything before he turned and left. He dropped the key at the counter and made his way over to the stables to buy a horse.

He bought a dapple pattern grey with a long white mane. Included was the tack and saddle required, as well as two days of food. He mounted and set off towards the east at a forced pace - two-hour rotations between galloping and jogging, resting for ten minutes each cycle, stopping to sleep for the six hours that the sun was set.

***

A week after he split off from the caravan, he spotted the gates of a large town in the distance. He rode up at a slower pace, trying not to upset the guards. As he passed, he held up his guild card, showing that he was a member. One of the guards pointed in and gave brief directions to the local guild hall.

Arland entered to find a young woman at the counter. He approached and she raised her eyes from her book, "You're a new face. And kinda cute, if rugged. What's your business?"

Arland glanced around, "Valden, the Guildmaster in Hatford said there was an S-rank here for me? I'm a new swordmaster looking for my trial-by-fire, as it were."

The young woman looked him over, "Sorry, but you're too young to be a swordmaster."

Arland sighed and pulled his card out, sliding it across the counter towards her, "This should prove it. Fetch your guildmaster if you've still got an issue with it."

After looking over his card and double-checking it for authenticity, she sighed and slid the card back to him, before walking away from the counter. She came back a few minutes later, an older gentleman in tow.

"This is Beirut, the guildmaster. Master, this boy says he's a swordmaster from Hatford."

"Ah yes, Valden mentioned you in his letter. You're Arland, the kid Leera was training, correct?"

Arland nodded, "Aye, sir."

Beirut grinned and nodded, "I have a quest for you. There's a dragon that settled in a cave near a small village to the north. Sandra here will give you the details and the quest sheet."

Beirut shook hands with Arland before turning and heading back into his office. Arland turned to Sandra, "So, a dragon hunt, huh?"

Sandra nodded, her face a little red, "That's correct. Sorry, I didn't believe you were a swordmaster. You're fairly young for such a title."

"I started young."

Sandra turned and pulled a rolled sheet of paper out from behind the counter, "Here's the quest sheet. It'll take you north to the border. There's a map on there too. The cave is here," She pointed to a spot on a map sprawled across the counter. "You'll need to find a way to sneak up on it unless you want to be incinerated as you approach."

He nodded and took the sheet, "Thank you. I'll be on my way."

Sandra smiled, "Stop by the guild hall in Erith when you're done. It's the local hall to your mission. The branch master will clear it for you."

Arland turned and left the hall, grabbing his horse, which he had named Valkyrie, from the stables. He led her over to an inn he had passed, checking Valkyrie into the Inn's stable, before heading in and grabbing a dinner and a room.

After eating, he went upstairs to settle in for the night.