So, it turns out I also write.

Two guards stood before the ruined gate of a derelict fort in the middle of a great forest. The men, long greasy hair obscuring their tanned, bearded faces, looked down an abandoned, overgrown path through the woods, their hands on their belts where their flintlock pistols were holstered. Their eyes darted between the trees and occasionally at each other as they stood guard at the ruined bastion.

One of the men blinked and looked at the other.

"Hey, you," he said starkly to his companion. "What are we even looking out for, anyway? Do people even come out here?"

The other shrugged in response, his eyes still glued to the woods.

"Well, curious hikers, I guess," the explained. "Some folks like comin' around and exploring the woods. The boss said we can't let anyone know about our position."

"R-right, well, I doubt they'd be too much of a threat. Can't we go in with the others? It's hotter than Hell out here!"

"Well, if you want to explain to the boss why you're not keeping watch, then by all means."

The impatient man grumbled and abruptly grasped his pistol.

"Well, I at least want something to shoot!" he growled. "If I can't at least kill something, I'll go insane!"

The other man sighed and turned to face his partner, a cold look in his eyes.

"Well, if you insist, but you'd better reload damn quick in case someone really does show up."

With a cackle, the man whipped his pistol from his belt and held it out at the sea of green.

"Alright! C'mon, at least a squirrel or something!" he roared. "Anything! I'm bored!"

Right away, a nearby bush began to rustle violently. Both guards looked at the activity, the calm one looking towards the bored one.

"Well, there you go," he sighed. "Like I said, be quick."

"Heh, alright!" the other replied, aiming his pistol at the bush. "The gods are being generous today!"

With that, the guard pulled the trigger. There was a loud crack and a large puff of smoke as his pistol ignited, firing a ball into the bush. The bush ceased to move, and the guard held his pistol up, smoke still emanating from the barrel.

"There, satisfied?" the other man said, looking back at his partner.

"Heh, yeah," his partner replied as he half-cocked his pistol. "Whatever it is, I killed it so good!"

"Yeah, you did. Just reload before someone shows—"

Suddenly, there was a second crack, from another bush. There was a small blur and, before either could react, the guard gasped mid-sentence, a patch of blood slowly expanding from a point on his chest. He shuddered on his feet before falling forward, landing in the dirt with a dull thud.

In a panic, the remaining guard quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper cartridge. However, the bush from which the shot was fired began to rustle, and out emerged a young lady from the waist-up. Her skin was fair, and her hair was short and earthen. She wore a leather vest and a cloth skirt, her navel visible in a small sliver of visible belly in between.

"Stop!" the woman called out, pointing the still-smoking gun at the guard. "Drop the gun and stand aside!"

The remaining guard froze for a second, looked at the woman's gun, then resumed, lifting the cartridge to his teeth. The woman blinked and holstered her gun, crossing her arms at the man.

"I swear you're gonna regret that," the woman said. "Drop it, or else!"

The guard held the cartridge up and smirked.

"Heh, or else what?" he said before biting the paper cartridge, tearing it open with his teeth.

In a split second, the woman lunged forward, much faster than any human. The guard, started by her speed, dropped the cartridge, which burst as it hit the ground at his feet. Before he could react further, an emerald green coil wrapped around him, squeezing his arms to his sides and making him drop his gun. He looked down at the speckled and striped coils. His eyes followed the serpentine coils, around his body, and up into the skirt of the woman, who was attached to the tail at the waist. The woman then looked back at the guard, a cocky smirk on her face.

"Y-you're a lamia!" the guard cried. "Yo—"

The lamia's tail abruptly squeezed his chest, choking out his sentence.

"Speak above a whisper and I'll squish you," she muttered. "Now hold still and let me pick your pockets..."

The lamia then reached into the man's pockets, pulling out a small pinch of gold and some pistol balls.

"Ah, good, this will do," she said as she picked up the man's gun. "And this! This'll sell!"

She dropped the loot into a bag on her waist before slithering over to the fallen guard, stealing his stuff just the same. She grabbed his gun, pointed it into the forest, and pulled the trigger, discharging the shot.

"Safety first," said the lamia. "Last thing I want is to shoot myself in the hip."

"Y-you know," the guard gasped. "The other's must've heard the shots... I-I bet they're on their way..."

As the lamia stuffed the second gun and some gold into her bag, she turned back to the her captive and smirked again.

"I'm prepared for that," she said. "I've been watching for a while, now. My plan's going perfectly, so far. I mean, I didn't expect you to actually ask for a target to shoot, so that made things a lot easier, but I digress~"

"P-prepared...?" the guard asked. "W-who are you?"

The lamia released the man from her coils and, with her tail, launched herself towards the roof. She grabbed the ledge and slithered her way up and out of sight. She peeked over one last time at the guard.

"Name's Brooke!" she said teasingly before ducking back on the roof.

At that moment, the gate exploded open, blowing the guard away as two burly man stood waving swords about.

"What was that ruckus!?" one of them growled. "We heard three shots! There were two of you! Where is—"

"Oh Gods!" the other cried, looking down at the guard laying on the ground. "He's dead!"

Both of the men turned to the guard.

"Who did this!?" one of them asked. "How did this happen!?"

The guard, still laying in the dirt, quickly pointed to the roof.

"An intruder! She climbed up there!"

Meanwhile, Brooke sat coiled on the roof, shoving a ball into her pistol's barrel. She heard the guard point her out and sighed.

"Huuuuh, didn't want to shoot so soon," she sighed, cocking her gun. " Well, I don't need to... Guess I'll just find a way in from up here..."

Uncoiling, Brooke began to slither across the roof, eyeing a window in a tower near the back of the fort. She listened to the commotion behind her with a soft giggle.

"Alright, that's dealt with," said Brooke as she approached the window. "If I know anything about these types, they stored their treasure in the tallest tower!"

With each meter, the window grew closer and closer. However, as she approached, the roof began to crackle and pop. Brooke looked down at the surface with a lifted eyebrow.

"Huh," she mumbled. "What is tha—"

Brooke suddenly found herself falling as the roof gave under her weight, debris tumbling about her through the air. She landed on the ground with a thud, her pistol firing as her wrist crashed against the stone floor and shooting out a wall-mounted torch.

The guards turned into the building, the dust-covered lamia laying prone under a pillar of light.

"T-there she is!" the long-haired guard cried, pointing at Brooke. "Get her!"

Brooke looked up as she saw two burly men, both brandishing swords, running at her down the narrow corridor. She blinked and rolled onto her back, watching the two men approach. With a quick whip of her tail, she wrapped it around one of the men's ankles.

"Eh— Whaa!" the man cried as her tripped toward, the lamia's tail whipped his tumbling body sideways. "H-help me!"

The other sword-wielding man, still running, looked back and saw his comrade laying on the floor. With a gasp, he turned towards Brooke's wriggling tail and lifted his sword.

"I got this!" he yelled as he began to swing his sword down.

The tail, however, let go of the fallen man and quickly swept at the other's feet, sending him tumbling forward. Brooke then rolled herself back onto her belly before crawling and slithering deeper into the fortress, righting herself in the process. She slipped past a small wooden door, closed it, and locked it with a wooden bar.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Brooke lifted her gun and half-cocked it, reaching frantically into her pocket for ammo. As she opened a cartridge and poured a primer into the flashpan, she could hear ruckus behind her as the two men got to their feet.

"C'mon, gotta hurry this up," Brooke muttered to herself as she fumbled with her pistol. "Those guys will be here any sec—"

There was a loud crash as the door rattled, some dust and splinters floating off from the wooden bar keeping it locked.

"Actually, they're here right now..." she grumbled as she rammed a ball and cartridge into the muzzle of the gun. "Just a couple more seconds..."

The door was bashed again, the planks holding it together surging as the two men tackled it with all of their might. Brooke felt a knot in her gut as she pulled back the cock on her firearm and slithered away from the door as it burst open, the wood bar fracturing as the two burly, sword-brandishing men rushed at her angrily.

Brooke took a deep breath, lifted her gun, and fired. With a loud crack and a puff of smoke, the ball was sent whizzing through the air, striking against one of the thug's necks with a sickening wet noise. The man choked and gurgled as he stumbled forward to the ground, a puddle of his own blood forming on the floor. The other turned and looked down at his fallen comrade, giving a soft grunt before turning back towards Brooke.

"Raaagh!" the man roared, swinging his blade wildly in the air above his head. "You'll pay for that!"

Brooke gulped as she tossed her unloaded gun aside, the bandit rapidly approaching. Then, as he brought the sword down on her, she quickly ducked away, her tail launching her forward as the blade swung over her head, cutting a few locks of hair. She grabbed the dead man's sword before righting herself and turning to face the remaining bandit. The man turned around, as well, and stared Brooke down.

"So, you think you can just slither in here and screw us over, eh?" said the bandit as he pointed his sword as Brooke, who simply shrugged.

"Eh, yeah, pretty much," said the lamia in response. "Just saw a bunch of random bandits, and I figured I'd take their junk."

The bandit let out a soft chuckle at his opponent.

"Heh, well, I'm about to make you regret that decision!"

With that, the man rushed forward, his sword raised at Brooke. He brought his sword down on the lamia, who swung her own blade at the bandit's. The steel swords clashed together with a loud clang and bounced apart. Brooke then retracted her sword arm and thrust the blade forward. With a quick step, however, the bandit, avoided the incoming attack, and stepped into another swing at Brooke. The lamia slithered back and attempted to raise her blade to parry. However, the bandit's blade pre-empted her gesture and dug into her arm.

"Ungh..." Brooke cried as she felt the steel cut into her flesh, leaving a clean, bloody line across her arm. "Dammit, you're... not bad..."

The bandit didn't respond, only lifting his sword over his shoulder and swinging at Brooke again. This time, Brooke opted to duck the blow, and slithered around to the bandit's flank. Quickly springing off from her tail, Brooke launched a quick upward cut at the bandit. The man, barely noticing the attack, turned and stepped aside, the sword barely slashing his chest in the process. Reeling from the pain of the gash, the bandit stumbled backwards. As he did so, his foot caught on something, causing him to fall backwards onto the stone floor with a thud.

"Unnngh," the man cried as he laid on the ground. "What was that..."

As he remained prone, her felt the thing he had tripped on moving under his foot. Confused, he looked up over himself. He saw Brooke's tail slithering out from under his ankle. At that point, he saw the glint of the lamia's sword in his face.

"Before you ask," said Brooke, "I wasn't planning that at all."

"Ugh, y-you bitch," the bandit groaned as he laid helplessly on the floor.

"Hey, now, no need to get salty," said Brooke and she leaned down and snatched the man's sword. "I'll just take that~"

Brooke stuck the other sword into her belt, shooed away the bandit, and slithered deeper into the room. As she looked around, the bandit sat up and stared at the lamia.

"What. You're just letting me live?" he grunted.

Brooke turned her head back to look at the man.

"As long as you turn around and go out the door, yes," she replied. "Now shoo!"

The bandit stood up, turned around, and bolted away as Brooke picked up her gun. She looked out the door, then up a flight of stairs nearby. With no sign of any further interruption, she grabbed ammo and powder from her belt and began the tedious process of reloading her gun.

"I don't think anyone heard any of that," she mumbled to herself as she fiddled with her firearm. "There can't be too many more here, though... This place isn't too terribly big..."

After about a minute, Brooke clicked back the cock on her gun and began to slither her way up the stairs. It was a fairly wide spiral upward, some dilapidated windows in the wall providing light along the way. Eventually, the stairs opened up into a wide, round room. There were several holes in the ceiling, polka dotting the floor with circles of light. Her eyes wandered to the other side of the room, where lying against the wall was a large wooden chest, simply sitting between two torches.

"Bingo!" Brooke muttered as she slithered at the chest. "That must be the treasure I saw them hauling!"

As she was about halfway across the room, she saw a flicker out of the corner of her eye. She turned to the left and saw a single torch lit above a stool, and sitting on the stool was a man in a dark coat.

"Now now, missy, where are you headed?" he said as he stood up from the stool. "I don't remember inviting a lamia into my gang."

Brooke stopped and faced the mysterious man, her free hand on the sword on her belt.

"I assume you're the head of this outfit?" she said. "Your gang didn't put up much of a fight."

"Oh, so that was the commotion, I heard downstairs, eh?" the man said. "Figured either they were drinking, or whoever was causing the ruckus would either die or end up in my sights. I guess I was right on the latter."

"Yup, and you won't put up a fight, either!" Brooke taunted as she lifted her pistol and pulled the trigger.

There was a click, but no other noise. The gun uncocked, but went no further. With a groan, Brooke cocked the gun again and pulled it once more, with the same result.

"Ugh," she grumbled as she dumped the primer from the pan and cast the gun aside. "Damn humidity..."

At that point, the boss rushed at Brooke, pulling a sword from his belt in the process.

"Ah well, guess I'll do this the old-fashioned way!" Brooke exclaimed as she pulled her own sword from her belt, catching the boss's with a clang and a burst of sparks as he swung it down on her.

Brooke then slithered back, keeping her eyes on the boss as the two circled each other. Waiting for an opening, she gripped her sword tightly, the urge to swing it welling up in her shoulder. Meanwhile, the boss peeked down at his feet. He was stepping around the end of Brooke's tail, which twitched around where he was stepping as the two combatants circled each other.

With a smirk, the boss lifted his sword and swung it downward at Brooke's tail.

"Eep!" Brooke yelped as she jerked her tail away, the sword simply hitting the stone floor.

The boss then segued right into forward dash at Brooke. The lamia dove away as he thrusted at her position. She then slithered in a wide arc away from her opponent, returning in a quick leap at the mean, her arm wound back. She swung down on the man, who knocked the blade aside with a swing of his own. Brooke then swung again. However, the boss leaped back away from the blow before slowly sidestepping, hopping to Brooke's left flank in a quick motion. With a sword coming at her from the left, Brooke twirled to face the man with her right and caught the blade with her own.

"Hah, I see how you were able to get through my gang so easily!" the boss exclaimed as he leaped back from Brooke.

"Well, it was also a lot of luck, trickery, and what-not, too," Brooke replied. "Either way, just let me have the contents of that chest, and I assure you things will be a lot less messy."

"My, you're a cocky one, eh?" the boss said. "Only one who's gonna get messed up is you!"

The boss then dashed forward. He leapt at Brooke, sword held over his head. Brooke lifted her own sword to parry, but the boss struck low on the blade, and it was knocked from Brooke's hand. It tumbled through the air before landing on the ground with a sharp clank.

Brooke looked back at her sword, then back at the boss. She grabbed for the other sword on her belt, but before she could wield it, the boss pointed his sword right at Brooke's neck.

"Another move, girly, and I'll bleed you out like a pig!" he roared as Brooke, who froze like a statue on the spot.

The lamia blinked and gulped as she remained vulnerable at the tip of the boss's blade.

"Well, looks like ya lost," the boss taunted, keeping the lamia at his blade.

Brooke glanced at her tail. It laid stretched out well past the boss on the floor. Thinking fast, she curled her tail around behind him and lifted it up.

"You may have bested me, o' bandit leader," she said, "but you haven't met my accomplice!"

At that point, Brooke laid the tip of her tail on the boss's shoulder. He flinched and turned around. In this time, Brooke quickly pulled her blade from her belt. The boss's eyes widened at the nothingness behind him and, in turning back to Brooke, there was a wet slicing sound, and he felt a sharp pain in his side. Deep in his side. Brooke stood beside him, her blade sheathed a foot in his ribcage. The boss shuddered and gazed, with anger in his eyes, at Brooke, his assailant.

"Y-you... I-I can't believe I..."

Brooke yanked the sword from the boss's side and shrugged.

"Hey, like I said," she replied. "Trickery!"

The boss stepped back erratically, his eyes glued on Brooke's face before finally stumbling backwards onto the floor. Brooke looked down at the fallen bandit and slithered around him towards the chest.

"Now for that chest!" she cheered.

"W-wait..." the boss gasped. "Y-you won't like what y-you find in that chest... I-I assure you..."

Brooke stopped and looked back at the boss.

"Oh, what is it? Some sort of ancient cursed artifact?" she groaned before turning back to the chest and slithering right for it. "Some scholar would still pay a fortune for that!"

"Eh- heh, n-not quite..."

Brooke grabbed both corners of the chest. Quickly licking her lips in anticipation, she cracked it open. Slowly, the top opened, and thoughts of the treasure ran through her mind like a herd of livestock. Perhaps it's gold, she thought. Or maybe silver! Gold and silver! Gold painted to look like silver, even!

With a quick push, the swung the chest open entirely. The anticipation in her eyes turned sour. Her entire body shuddered and she reached into the chest.

"W-what... no... I-it can't be..." she moaned. "I-I can't believe it..."

The boss, still down from his horribly injury, let out a gasping chuckle at Brooke.

"I-I told ya!" he gasped. "I knew you'd be h-horrified..."

She grabbed a roughly-bound book from the chest and flipped through it. On each page was a nude drawing of some woman in some lude pose. Brooke felt her stomach explode with disappointment as she cast the book aside and sifted through the remaining contents which, as far as Brooke could see, consisted of similar wares.

"M-my treasure!" Brooke cried. "It's only pornography!?"

"H-hah, aye," the boss gasped once more. "I-it gets borin' out in the woods, so I... picked up something for the men... It might still sell, of course! Eh... heh..."

Brooke let out an exasperated grunt as she slithered away from the chest, her face red with anger, disappointment, and perhaps a little embarrassment.

"Ugh, this is so stupid!"

Brooke glared at the boss, who seemed to be deriving much enjoyment from the lamia's frustration. Brooke looked at the man, then at the stairway down, then back at him, before continuing across the room.

"I'm leaving!" Brooke growled as she passed by. "And I'm taking your sword!"

She snatched the black-hilted sword laying at the wounded man's side before slithering her way towards her own gear, her sword and gun which laid about on the floor. From there, she went down the stairs and through the corridor that lead to the exit of the fortress. She stopped, looked back at the place, and sighed.

"Unnngh, calm down, Brooke, you still made money today," she assured herself. "And that is one less band of cutthroats the world needs to deal with, I guess..."

With that, Brooke, her belt and bag both full of loot, slithered into the woods, away from what proved a be a fairly quick and not-quite-so-fruitless adventure.

Sylvia awoke. Her blue eyes blinked open, staring at a blurry wooden ceiling. Slowly, she sat herself up, the thick fur blanket she had slept under falling away as she righted herself, revealing the large white shirt on her skinny body. She reached for a pair of beige pants hanging from a small hook and grabbed them. As she put them on, one leg at a time, she looked at her door. She could hear a bit of commotion coming in from outside.

"Man," she groaned. "Sounds like a crowd's gathered down there, already..."

As Sylvia stood up from the bed, her long brown hair fell clumsily to her waist. She gave her head a few shakes before grabbing a piece of string and tying her long hair into a ponytail. With that, she walked over to her door, pushed it open, and walked out. She walked across the narrow hall to the rail, looking into the tavern area. There were many people, all sitting around tables, chatting, laughing, arguing, drinking, eating, as they would in an inn. In the corner, there was a man in a rough fur coat quietly strumming on some stringed instrument, sending out a calm tune over the ruckus of the tavern.

"Yeah, I slept in way too long," Sylvia muttered. "Hopefully I didn't need to work the counter..."

Sylvia trotted down the stairs and wound up behind the counter. There stood a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, pouring some drink into a mug. Quickly, he turned to face Sylvia, and smiled. His skin was dark, and his black hair was short and wiry, like that of those from way south in foreign lands.

"Ah, Syl! Good to see ya," he said in a heavily accented voice. "Mr. Ferr in 'is room, still. 'E wanted t'know when ya'd be awakin'."

Sylvia nodded and waved with a lethargic smile to the man at the counter.

"Oh. Good afternoon, Kan," Sylvia replied, rubbing her eye softly. "Yeeah, that sounds like my dad. Sleeps in as late as he can... Anyway, were you gonna tell him, or were you telling me to tell him?"

Kan shrugged as he placed the filled mug on the counter, one of the patrons quickly snatching it up and nodding.

"I coul' go tell 'im, but you'd need to work t'e counter while I'm away. T'ey a bit restless, today!"

"Yeah, I was gonna ask about that," said Sylvia, her eyes glancing toward the packed tavern. "Is it a day of importance? Did a man of importance enter Belhame? Why anyone of value would set foot in this town is beyond me, much less stay in my dad's inn, but..."

Kan let out a hearty laugh as he, too, looked towards the crowd.

"Actually, it just a large merchant envoy from t'e north," he said, turning back to Sylvia. "T'em folks from Iolos do like t'eir drink. Keeps me busy!"

"Uhh, yeah. I was thinkin' you needed help dealing with these guys, but if it's Iolans, I don't picture them as too rowdy a bunch."

"Hah, true. Though, give t'e meekest man enough drink and he be thinkin' himself t'e mightier t'an t'e mightiest troll merc alive!"

Sylvia chuckled and shrugged.

"Heh. Well, if there's any trouble, let me know," she said. "I guess I'll get my dad."

"Right, Syl!" Kan replied. "So far, no fights! Lookin' peaceful so far!"

Syl nodded with a smile as she quickly ran back up the stairs. She stood at the door besides her and gave it a loud knock.

"Dad! Wake up!" Sylvia yelled. "I know you're still asleep!"

There was a loud thump inside, followed by several moments of commotion before the door quickly swung open. There stood a man with a slightly muscular body, about two feet taller than Sylvia, with the same blue eyes and brown hair, albeit shorter and greyed around the edges.

"Syl, you're awake!" said Mr. Ferr. "I'll assume Kan is dealing with the patrons?"

Sylvia nodded to her father.

"Yeah. Bunch of merchants from Iolos, he said."

"Iolans, eh?" Mr. Ferr said with a smirk. "Interesting they're staying here. Knowing their sort, I'd think they would spend their time at one of the fancier inns in Belhame. Can't picture 'em drinking such strong stuff in a place like this."

"Heh. Well, Belhame isn't a fancy town. Where else is there to stay?"

"Hrm. True, though still, the idea of Iolans drinking from our kegs... Bah, they're happy; the feeling alcohol brings satisfies them no matter how it tastes going down, am I right, Syl?"

"Ha. Maybe," said Sylvia with a chuckle. "So, what did you need me for? We aren't out of firewood already, are we?"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" Mr. Ferr exclaimed. "Don't tell me you don't know what day it is!"

"Ugh, considering what day we say it is on our calendar, and what the foreign merchants always come in saying with that Thogenite stuff, I never know what day it is anymore."

"Well, then! Meet me downstairs! But first, put your shoes on! Walking around barefoot like that'll get you sick!" said Mr. Ferr as he rushed down into the tavern.

Sylvia sighed and retreated back to her room as Mr. Ferr darted to the counter with Kan.

"Hey, Kan!" said Mr. Ferr. "The girl forgot. Can you believe that?"

Kan shrugged with an awkward smirk on his face.

"She's not one to get wrapped up in formal stuff like t'at, ya know, Rolph?" said Kan. "T'en again, neither are you, really! Hahaha!"

Mr. Ferr silently chuckled and rested a hand on his employee's shoulder.

"Heh. Well, when you get to this age, it matters less," he explained. "Syl's still rather young, so-"

Mr. Ferr stopped as he heard the sound of creaking stairs. He turned around to see Sylvia, standing right beside him, a pair of leather sandals on her feet.

"Alright, got my shoes. Now what?" said Sylvia anxiously.

"Well, have a seat, Syl!" said Mr. Ferr as he grabbed a pewter fork from the back of the counter.

As Sylvia pulled up a stool to sit on, Mr. Ferr lifted the fork and tapped an empty mug, filling the inn with a metallic noise, hushing the crowd.

"Alright! Everyone here speak Silvrene?" Mr. Ferr called out. "I understand we have some friends from the northern kingdom!"

A pale, thin man at the counter with curly red hair giggled to himself.

"O-of cour'we come to Silvern speaki'Silvrene," the man said, his accent muddled by heavy slurring. "Wha's the occa'ion?"

"Well, sir," said Mr. Ferr, "today is the fourteenth year that my daughter, Sylvia, has been alive!"

The tavern filled with a mixture of whoops, cheers, and laughs as Sylvia sat behind the counter, blushing and averting her eyes from the crowd.

"D-dad, this is uncomfortable," Sylvia whimpered. "I-it's just a bunch of drunk merchants..."

"And on her fourteenth year, I wish to give her a gift!" Mr. Ferr continued. "Kan, the gift!"

"Ah, right!" said Kan as he reached under the counter, pulling out a long, narrow object wrapped in cloth, passing it to his employer. "Hope she ends up likin' it, Rolph!"

Mr. Ferr took the gift with a nod and passed it to his daughter. Sylvia took the item dubiously. She stared at it, shook it and groped it. Finally, after inspecting it, she slowly unwrapped the cloth. She saw a leather sheath, then with further unwrapping, a black hilt. Sylvia stared at the gift, eyes wide.

"A-A sword!" Sylvia exclaimed as she stood up and hugged her father. "Oh, thank you! It's what I've wanted for so long!"

"Ah, hey!" said Mr. Ferr, his daughter clinging to him tightly. "I knew you'd like it! Figured my big ol' sword was a bit much for you to be practicing with, so I picked that up from a merchant who passed by not long ago!"

Sylvia let go of her dad, then lifted the sword. With one hand, she grabbed the hilt, and slowly unsheathed it. The iron blade gleamed in the candlelight of the tavern.

"It looks so exquisite," said Sylvia, who was thoroughly inspecting the blade. "Do you know its make?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Ferr with a shrug. "The man told me he picked it up somewhere in Kalmaen, which is fairly vague. Could be Kalmaeni, I guess."

The red-haired man watched Sylvia admire the sword, then clumsily turned to Mr. Ferr.

"Ya'know, back hom'in Iolos, we give our daughters dresses'n teach'em t'be all ladylike," he said. "Yo'daughter receives a sword on'er bir'day and dress like a boy!"

"Oh, uhh," Mr. Ferr began. "It's just the way she is, I guess."

"Ha!" Kan interjected. "Rolph, ya always wanted a boy! Ya wanted someone to teach t'fight and be a merc like you were! And when ya had a gir-"

Kan was stopped by a venomous glare from Mr. Ferr before nervously returning to his duties.

"A-Anyway," Mr. Ferr began once more, "Why don't you go out and try out that sword outside, Syl?"

Sylvia nodded excitedly.

"S-sure! Oh man, my own sword!"

"Yup!" Mr. Ferr called out. "Just don't pick any fights!"

She darted out from behind the counter and waded through the drunken masses to the door. As she stepped out, the crowd returned to normal, chatting and the like while the bard in the corner continued his quiet serenade.

When Sylvia was gone, Mr. Ferr grabbed an empty mug and began to wipe it out.

"Hey Kan," Mr. Ferr began. "Think I'll regret giving that girl her own weapon?"

Kan chuckled to himself softly.

"Nah sir," Kan replied. "What t'e wors' t'at could happen?"

"Well, iunno, she might get herself in trouble. I mean, she's fit, and she's practiced with my sword a lot, but she's still young and inexperienced..."

Kan stepped up to Mr. Ferr and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be worryin', sir," he said calmly. "Nothin' ever happens here. Maybe an outlaw here and t'ere, or a drunken brawl, but it's pretty calm here, mostly!"

Rolph shrugged and gave a gentle nod.

"Eh, I guess you're right," he admitted. "If anything happens today, and of there's any trouble short of a damn army marching through Belhame, I'll deal with it before that girl gets any ideas."

"Aye, t'ats deh idea, sir," Kan exclaimed. "Now get any o' dat trouble off yo' mind and help me work deh counter!"

With a nod, Mr. Ferr walked to the counter and grabbed one of the empty mugs, taking up his duties with his employee as his daughter played outside.

---

In a small dusty lot beside the inn stood Sylvia, sword in hand. Slowly, she lifted it up and, with a quick step forward, she swung it diagonally through the air.

"Hyah!" she cried against the soft whoosh of her sword cutting through nothing.

She quickly leaped back before rushing forward and giving her imaginary target a swift stab. She then pulled her sword back and swept it horizontally across where she had stabbed.

From a small structure nearby, a stout, brown-haired older man, with a thick apron over his front, stepped out from the front door. He looked over to Syl, who was still swinging her sword about.

"Oh, hey!" he called out. "Sylvia! Over here!"

Sylvia paused a motion and relaxed herself before turning to face the man.

"Oh! Mr. Foran!" Sylvia exclaimed with a wave. "Hey there!"

Mr. Foran walked across the dirt path to Sylvia and nodded respectfully to her.

"Good day, Syl!" Mr. Foran responded. "Nice sword, there!"

Sylvia smiled and nodded back.

"Ah, thanks! My dad gave it to me for my birthday!"

"Ah yes, your birthday is today, then!" the man replied. "I figured it was around this time, but I wasn't totally sure... Ah well, I actually prepared something for you at my forge!"

Sylvia's eyes widened.

"F-for me?" Sylvia gasped, sheathing her sword in the process.

"Heh, yeah!" Mr. Foran replied. "Your father did catch that guy who made off with some of my goods a few years back, and I never really did repay him, so I figured I was in your family's debt a bit."

Sylvia simply shrugged.

"Heh, I guess," she said. "So, what is this something?"

Mr. Foran nodded back to the forge.

"Well, where I made it! C'mon!"

The man began to walk back towards his forge, with Sylvia following closely behind. In a small corner of the forge, there was an open forge and an anvil along with a small stone bench, to which Mr. Foran gestured.

"Wait there, Syl," he said as he made his way inside. "I'll bring it out."

Sylvia walked up to the bench and sat down. She heard the sounds of clunking and movement inside the house as she sat, fiddling with her sword. A few moments passed before, finally, the door swung open again. Mr. Foran held under one arm a small vest of iron scales and a pair of chain sleeves. Under his other was a tangled bundle of leather and buckles. He turned towards Sylvia and held the gift out to her.

"Here it is, Syl," said Mr. Foran. "I'll admit it's not my best work, but it's better than what I'd normally just give away."

Sylvia's eyes lit up as she was handed the gear, Mr. Foran gently dropping it all into her arms.

"Is this... a-armor!?" Sylvia asked as she looked down at the gift. "For me!?"

Mr. Foran nodded with a soft smile on his face.

"Aye. It should offer some protection against some things. It's not too well-made, so it won't stop certain makes of swords, and it won't do any good against bashing, but I figured it's a good start for an aspiring little warrior, since I know you look up to your dad and all that."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Foran!" said Sylvia, her voice filled with joy. "M-mind if I go try it on?"

Mr. Foran nodded at Sylvia, who then rushed into the forge and shut the door behind her. There was a clunking noise. Then some jingling. Then a few clicks. Several moments passed, and the door opened once again, Sylvia stepping out and closing it behind her. With each step, the iron scales on her torso jingled together, not only with each other but with the chainmail on her arms and the pauldrons on her shoulders. The scale armor ended at her belt, where a simple leather skirt wrapped around her waist. Her toned legs were hugged by leather leggings, and she wore a pair of boots of the same material.

Sylvia stretched and bent her arms and legs, looking down at her new set of armor.

"It looks so good!" said Sylvia. "And it fits quite well, too!"

"Ah yes, good!" Mr. Foran responded. "I was worried it'd be a bit off. I just sorta guessed the size, but it looks like I guessed well enough."

Sylvia nodded and looked down at her armor, her eyes gravitating to her belt.

"Oh, there's a place to put my sword!" she exclaimed as she hooked her sword's scabbard to her belt. "Oh, this is most wonderful! Thank you, Mr. Foran!"

"It's no problem, Syl!" Mr. Foran responded. "Anyway, it's getting rather late, and you shouldn't be out at night. Why don't you go show your father? I'm sure he'll like it, too!"

Sylvia smiled back and nodded before turning back to the inn, waving warmly back at Mr. Foran as she departed.

"Okay! Thanks again!"

Mr. Foran nodded back and, with that, Sylvia made her way back to the inn.

---

Rolph slammed a pewter mug on the counter of the bar, amber drink sloshing up over the edge and onto his hand.

"Another one's up!" he called out to the crowd, which had calmed down considerably since the afternoon.

One of the patrons grabbed the beer and gave Rolph a nod before returning to the crowd, which had shrunken considerably, given that many of the Iolans had departed to their rooms. The handful of patrons that remained sat around a bard, who sang a somber tale of the recently-ended Coronian civil war over the haunting melody of his lute.

Rolph stared at the crowed and sighed deeply.

"Aaah," he began, "it's always so much quieter after the drunkards pass out, eh, Kan?"

"Aye ther', sir!" Kan replied, as boisterous as ever. "An' t'en the drunk'uns will be extra calm tomorro'!"

"Eh heh, yeah. Though I don't care about how they act tomorrow; they're leaving in the morning. As long as everything's paid for, we'll be good."

Kan grabbed an empty mug that someone put on the bar and began to wipe it out with his cloth. With a giggle, he looked towards Rolph and began to speak.

"Jus' wait til' t'e lanky fellow sees his bill! Gonna be priceless, I say!"

"Heh, priceless if he pays it. More annoying if he doesn't. Ale doesn't grow on trees, Kan."

About that moment, the door swung open. Rolph looked up and saw his daughter stepping into the tavern.

"Oh, hey, Syl! How did you like the swo— Sylvia, what are you wearing?"

Sylvia walked through the room, dodging the weary crowd, and up to the bar.

"Heya, dad!" she replied. "Mr. Foran made me some armor!"

Rolph blinked.

"Huh, that was awfully kind of him. I mean, he did say he owed us, but... still. That's a fine piece of work you have there, Syl."

"Ol' man Foran always was a bit too generous fer 'is own good," Kan interjected. "I do wonder how he stays in business with all o' t'e favors and gifts he gives out."

"Heh," Rolph responded. "I wouldn't say that. I mean, we benefit, so I'm not about to complain. Anyway, Syl. Armor aside, I'll assume you're getting the hang of your sword?"

Sylvia nodded excitedly as she grasped the hilt of her sword and unsheathed an inch of it.

"Yup! It'd be nice if I had some actual targets, though. It feels a lot easier than your sword."

"Well, I'd hope so," said Rolph. "My greatsword is as long as you are tall. You're a strong girl, but you're still small."

"Yeah, I know," said Sylvia. "So, like, I have the sword, and I have armor, now. I know how to use a sword, and you've told me stories about your adventures... Ya think I could become a mercenary? Like you were, dad?"

Rolph chuckled to himself, resting a hand on Sylvia's shoulder.

"Well, Syl," he began. "You've never tasted actual combat, nor have you camped out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but wild animals to make friends with."

Sylvia shrugged at her father, whose arm retreated from her shoulder and back to his side.

"Well, I'd gain experience in that, right?" Sylvia replied. "I mean, I know how to use a sword, so I'd be able to defend myself, right?"

Rolph sighed deeply.

"Sylvia, you're too young," he said sternly. "Maybe in five years, assuming some damned war doesn't break out, but as it stands, you're just too young."

Sylvia inflated her cheek, giving an annoyed look at her father.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, though!" she argued. "I could do stuff around here!"

"Syl, you can't go out on your own yet, and that's final," Rolph repeated. "Get that silly thought out of your head!"

Kan looked up from a cup he was wiping down.

"Sir, Yeh ran off when yeh were fifteen or somethin', ya?" he said clearly before returning to his duty.

"Gah, Kan!" Rolph barked at his employee. "Quiet! You're not helping!"

Rolph grumbled before turning back to face Sylvia.

"Look, Sylvia. I understand you think you can handle everything out there just because you have a sword and a set of armor, but trust me. There's things out there you could never imagine existed."

Sylvia's eyes blinked several times before glancing awkwardly at her feet.

"I... I guess," she mumbled.

"Yeah, Sylvia, trust me," Rolph responded. "You're just not ready. Kan, why don't you get dinner going? I'm sure Sylvia's hungry after today."

"Aye aye, sir!" said Kan as he stepped back into a door behind the bar.

"Alright, Syl, just relax," said Rolph as he turned back towards Sylvia. "Don't feel like you need to prove yourself to anyone, yourself included. You're still young. You'll have your moment, I assure you."

Sylvia let out a long sigh as she looked down at her boots before glancing back up at Rolph.

"Y-yeah, I guess," she said awkwardly.

"Yeah. Plus, you have to keep in mind your condition, Sylvia," Rolph continued. "Who knows how that'd get you in trouble out there."

Sylvia didn't respond, only sighing deeply. Around that point, the gentle music of the bard stopped, leaving the bar in an awkward silence.

"Anyway, Sylvia, I'm going to see how Kan's doing with supper. You take it easy, and I'll be out in a bit, alright?"

"Alright, dad," said Sylvia.

Rolph placed a hand on Sylvia's head, messing her hair somewhat before turning away and heading through the kitchen door. Sylvia glanced across the room and saw the bard, a young man with blonde hair and an earthen cloak, tuning his lute. Slowly, Sylvia strolled across the bar, grabbed a chair, and sat up beside the bard, who looked over at his visitor.

"Ah, hey there," he said in a rather effeminate voice. "You must be the birthday girl. Did you wish to request something from Mikael?"

"Oh? Uhh, nah," Sylvia replied. "I'm just thinking. Any of the stories you know, anything about young people like myself being heroes?"

"Oh, heh," said Mikael. "It's not unheard of. I guess you're aspiring to be a little hero, yourself?"

"I guess. I just want to be like my dad. He was a mercenary when he was a younger man. He always told me grand tales about his adventures and, well, I wish I could be like he was..."

"Ah, I see. And he's not too keen on such a young thing doing that, I assume?"

Sylvia shook her head.

"Yeah. Not only that, but I, eh, I can't see very well."

Mikael looked quizzically at the young girl.

"Can't see very well?" the bard asked. "How so? You're awfully young to be going blind, eh?"

"Oh, no," responded Sylvia. "I'm not going blind. I just, uhh, I can't see certain colors. All colors of apples look the same to me, for instance."

"Ah, well that's unique," said Mikael with a nod. "I guess there are worse-off ways to be."

Sylvia paused, shrugging as she glanced up across the tavern. Kan approached from the bar, a plate with food and small wooden cup of ale in hand.

"'Eya, Syl," he said. "Dinner's up. Jus' some fish and some cheese."

"Ah, thanks, Kan," said Sylvia as she took the food with a smile. "It doesn't look burnt this time!"

"Ah, t'at was one time, girl!" Kan retorted with a snort. "Ah well, Rolph said ya should pro'ly g'to bed when yeh finish t'at, ya?"

Sylvia lifted the cup to her mouth and sipped the ale, he mouth curling into a grimace as the bitter liquid washed over her tongue.

"Eh, yeah," Sylvia replied to Kan. "It is pretty late, and today was pretty busy."

"Alright, t'en. back t'work for me," said Kan. "Take it easy, kiddo."

Sylvia and Kan nodded at each other before the latter departed back to the bar. When he left, Mikael audibly chuckled.

"Heh, he seems to be an interesting fellow," he said.

"Ah, yeah," said Sylvia after swallowing a mouthful of fish. "That's Kan. He's from Gibria. My dad hired him when he was still fairly young. I think he was as old as I am now, and I, myself, was, I think... four or fiveish. I know Mom was still alive... Anyway, during his off-time he'd listen with me to my dad telling stories of his old adventures. He's sorta like a big brother, kinda, in a weird way."

"Huh, that's interesting," Mikael responded. "I never had any siblings, by blood or otherwise, really. Can't say I know what it's like, personally."

Sylvia nodded in response as she finished the cheese on her plate, stuffing the last chunk into her mouth, chewing it, and swallowing it.

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to explain. He's kinda like family, but not really."

"No need to explain, heh. I think I get it," Mikael said with a chuckle. "Anyway, didn't your old man want you to hit the hay when you finished eating?"

"Ah, yeah," said Sylvia. "Guess I should let you get back to your music."

"Heh, yeah. Good night, Sylvia. Nice place your dad has, here."

Sylvia nodded with a smile and stood up. She walked across the tavern, turning to face Rolph as she started to walk up the stairs.

"I'm going to sleep," she said as she began to walk towards the stairs. "Good night, dad."

"Oh, very well. Night, Syl," said Rolph back to his daughter. "Sweet dreams."

Sylvia nodded back to Rolph as she walked to her room and retreated through the door. Right away, she loosened the belts and straps on her armor, allowing her to slowly slip it off piece by piece. Clad in only her loose white shirt, she untied her hair before crawling into bed. The gentle sound of the lute once again began to play, the tune seeping through the wooden walls of Sylvia's room and lulling her into a deep sleep.

---

Sylvia was awoken by a heavy knock on her door. Her eyes opened, and she groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes before glancing at that noisy door.

"What is it!?" she called out.

Right away, the door cracked, and Rolph's head poked in.

"Hey, kid," he said. "I'm gonna be out stocking up for today. Kan's gonna be watching the bar, just so ya know."

"O-oh, right, thanks," Sylvia sighed as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I guess I'll practice with my sword a bit."

"Oh, that's fine, Syl," Rolph replied, his lips curling into a smile. "Just be careful. If you need something to eat, ask Kan, alright?"

"Mhm, no problem," Sylvia said back as she picked up the leather leggings of her armor. "I'll see you in a bit."

Rolph nodded before closing the door, leaving Sylvia alone once again. With that, Sylvia returned to her armor, slipping on her leggings, then her mail, sleeves, and pauldrons. Then, grabbing her sword, she rushed out the door, the upper walk in the tavern creaking under her boots. Kan looked up at Sylvia just as she descended the stairs.

"Ey, there, Syl!" Kan called out. "Yer ol' man already head out to deh market."

"Ah, yeah. Figured he'd leave early," Syl replied. "Need a hand with anything before I go out and practice my swordplay?"

"Eh, nah," Kan replied. "Deh Iolans just left and I'm just dealin' wit' a few weary regulars. I'll be fine, ya?"

"Eh, yeah. If you need anything, let me know."

Kan nodded as he grabbed a small bread roll and tossed it to Sylvia, who caught it handily.

"No'much, but I figured you were hungry, ya?" said Kan.

Sylvia nodded before lifting the roll to her mouth and taking a bite. It was a bit tough and stale, but she chewed the bite and swallowed it nonetheless.

"Thanks, Kan!" said Sylvia as she made her way to the door. "I'll try to be quiet out there."

"Ya ya, have fun, kiddo," Kan replied, waving briefly as Sylvia walked out the door.

Sylvia was hit by the morning sun as she stepped outside. To the east, she could vaguely see a cart surrounded by folks she assumed to be the Iolan merchants. Otherwise, the village seemed fairly quiet aside from the rushing chatter of the Far River. Sylvia grabbed the hilt of her sword and slowly pulled it from the sheath. Holding the sword forward, she twisted her sword-arm about, rotating her wrist and bending her elbow. The chain sleeve felt a bit heavy, but it was nothing she couldn't get used to, Sylvia thought to herself. She started to run in place, jogging in the dust for a few seconds before before lunging forward, slashing the air.

As Sylvia did a backwards leap, she saw a figure running towards her from the east. Holding a hand to her face to keep the sun from her eyes, she recognized the individual as one of the Iolans. He ran frantically into town, kicking up a trail of dust as he made his way towards Sylvia. Finally, he stopped in front of her, bending over to catch his breath.

"Uhh, ah, S-Sylvia, is it!?" the man said with a troubled voice. "O-our caravan, i-it was attacked!"

"Ah, attacked!?" said Sylvia. "W-what do I—"

"C'mon!" the man pleaded, grabbing Sylvia by the arm. "We don't have time to chat! My comrades are in danger!"

"Eh, r-right, let's go!"

Sylvia darted towards the danger zone, the Iolan following close behind. The armor was a bit hard to run in, but Sylvia's strong legs carried her forward, slightly outpacing the merchant who had summoned her help. She rushed down the road, running parallel to the river, before eventually, the wagon came into view. Aside from a few merchants lying scattered about, everything seemed to be intact.

"W-what happened here!?" said Sylvia as she approached who she recognized as the pale, thin man who has been drinking at the bar, seen shuddering on the ground. "Is everyone alright!?"

"Ungh, good, you're here..." the man said as she slowly stood up, grabbing his gut. "Y-yeah, we're all okay..."

Sylvia looked the man over and nodded apologetically.

"D-did they already leave?"

The Iolan's posture straightened somewhat.

"Ugh, yeah... I think they're gone..."

"Sorry, I couldn't get here, sooner," said Sylvia, sighing and sheathing her sword. "Nothing too important was taken, was it?"

The Iolan man cracked a smirk and walked towards Sylvia, putting his hands gently on her shoulders.

"Nah, don't worry, kid," he said. "We still have our most valuable cargo."

"That's good," Sylvia replied. "Normally, we don't have attacks this close to Belha—"

The Iolan's grip suddenly tightened, and Sylvia was suddenly jerked forward, where the Iolan's knee greeted her gut quite violently. Right away, Sylvia felt pain shooting up and down her torso and stumbled, doubling over on the ground, clutching her stomach.

From the ground, Sylvia saw the other merchants stand up, all chuckling at her as she laid on the ground.

"Good, good, too easy," the thin Iolan man said. "Quickly, bind her. She's perfect."

One of the merchants kicked Syl onto her stomach before leaning down, grabbing her arms, and tying her wrists behind her back. He then quickly tied up her ankles before standing back up.

"Done," the merchant said in a gruff voice. "Let's haul her up now."

The lanky merchant grabbed the dazed Sylvia by her shoulders and lifted her up. Hit with a bout of clarity, Sylvia took a deep breath and started to scream.

"Heelp!" he cried, thrashing about. "They're taking me! Somebody he—"

She was cut off by a thick piece of cloth that another merchant tied over her mouth.

"Mmph!" Sylvia continued, still struggling. "Hmmph mmm! Mmnphm pmmmph!"

"Oh, shut up!" the think Iolan groaned, lifting his elbow and crashing it into Sylvia's skull, causing her to go quiet and limp.

With that, the burly and thin Iolans picks Sylvia up and, with a quick motion, tossed her onto the wagon, where she laid unconscious.

"It's a shame we have to do this to such a good host," said the thin Iolan as he looked Sylvia over, "but this girl is quite the specimen. She'll rake us in quite a bindle, eh?"

"Heh, aye," the burly merchant responded. "And we can sell the armor and sword seperately, too!"

Another merchant, the one who had baited Sylvia, cleared his throat as the burly man finished speaking.

"I-I don't know," he began. "Where would we even sell her? I thought we were headed to Farmouth? The Coronians really look down on the slave trade."

"Eh, we can take a detour into Redtree!" the burly man suggested. "I mean, as long as we don't accidentally stumble into a warzone, we could just go in, sell the girl, and be out!"

"I... I guess," the reluctant merchant sighed. "Let's go before we draw suspicion to ourselves."

"Good man," said the thin merchant. "Let's get to Ustric. We'll arrive at night as to not draw attention to ourselves. If anyone sees the girl move, knock her arse out again, got it?"

"No problem, boss!" the burly merchant said. "Let's go!"

With that, the burly merchant gave one of the animals a stern shove, and the caravan continued onward, Sylvia still out-cold amidst the goods in the wagon and unaware of her possible fate.

Rolph stepped wearily through the front door of his inn and shuffled to the counter where Kan was scrubbing down a wet mug.

"Oi, all of the stock is accounted for," he said. "Hope I didn't leave you with too much of a mess."

Kan placed the mug on a shelf and turned back towards his boss, shrugging indifferently.

"Eh, jus' deh regular crowd, sir," he said. "A bit refreshin' after serving all o' t'em Iolans, ya?"

"Heh, I'd take these guys over a crowd of foreigners, anyday," Rolph replied. "Say, Kan. Have you seen Sylvia? She's usually around for dinner about now."

"Oh, uhh, isn't she still out playin' with t'at sword?" said Kan. "She didn' come in at all today."

"Oh, uhh," Rolph hummed. "I hope that girl's not causing any trouble. If anyone's seen where she's gone, it'd be Foran..."

"Aye, you go ask 'im, ya?" said Kan. "I'll man the counter. I'm sure Sylvia's fine, sir."

"Hrm, thanks, Kan," said Rolph as he turned towards the door. "I'll be back! Hopefully with Sylvia..."

Rolph departed out the inn's door, Kan giving him a confident nod on his way out. He jogged across the narrow street to the forge, where the local smith, Mr. Foran, was sitting outside his house with a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand.

"Foran!" Rolph called out to the man. "Foran, have you seen Sylvia? It's getting late and I'm worried..."

"O-Oh, Mr. Ferr. G'day," said Mr. Foran. "Syl? I believe one of those Iolans came back and she followed him to the edge of town. Is she not back ye—"

"What!?" Rolph barked. "You saw her leave Belhame and you didn't stop her!?"

"B-but Rolph!" Mr. Foran cried. "I didn't think she—"

"You fool!" Rolph yelled. "My daughter could be in serious danger right now! I… ugh!"

Rolph turned back towards the inn, leaving Rolph with a terrified expression. He raced inside, across the barroom, and up the stairs into her room, Kan watching this all rather concerned. There was some clattering and crashing noises in Rolph's room before he burst out from his door, some hard leather armor and a fur cloak on his body. Hanging on his back was a large greatsword, swinging and bouncing as he raced down the stairs.

"I need to go, Kan," he said urgently. "Inn's yours 'til I return. Don't wait for me. Syl's in danger."

"B-but sir!" Kan replied. "Yeh're going out now? It's not safe! Rolph, I—"

Rolph responded by pushing through the front door. Kan sighed as he stared at the door, a concerned look in his eyes.

"Oh, boss," he muttered. "Still t'same ol' brazen man ya used t'be…"

---

Sylvia's eyes shot open. Her head ached as she checked her surroundings. It was dark and stuffy, and she was laying on a hard surface that seemed to rattle and thump uncomfortably. Her arms and legs were tied together tightly, and her mouth was gagged with a thick cloth. Weighing down on her was a heavy sheet of burlap that muffled the sounds of speech coming from nearby. Slowly and carefully, Sylvia wiggled forward and pressed her ear against the cloth covering her.

"So then I dug up the plant after going through so much trouble to put it down," she heard a gruff voice say. "I swear; some people just don't care about courtesy, anymore."

There was a short chuckle as another man began to speak.

"Well, it was a pretty crappy gift, that's for sure, man," he said. "Plus, I'd have asked her before, you know, digging up her property and planting a ratty little bush in the middle of it."

Sylvia had no idea what the men were talking about, but nonetheless, she continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"H-hey, whose side are you on!?" the first man exclaimed. "Ugh, anyway, it's getting late. We are close to Ustric, right?"

"Heh, changing the subject, eh?" another man said. "Well, if you must know, we are pretty close to the city."

"Ah, good," the previous fellow replied. "My feet are killing me. So, once we get there, what do we do with the girl?"

Sylvia heard a bout of laughter amongst the men.

"Well," another man with a slow voice said, "We'll need someone to keep watch over the wagon, anyway. If she wakes up, just knock her out again!"

"Bluh, that's not fun," a man with a deep voice argued. "I say we take her in with us and make sure she's quality merchandise."

"Hey, now," the slow-voiced man sighed. "She'll sell better if she's fresh, don't you know? Just hold that thought and you can spend the profits however you want!"

Sylvia cringed as she heard the slavers speak of her in such a way.

"Aye," the deep-voiced guy replied. "But if I had the coin and the folks back home weren't so outwardly against the idea, I'd buy her up myself. I like her. So small and pretty. Looks a bit feisty, too! Hehehe!"

"Well," another man said, his voice sounding smooth and elegant. "If I catch anyone spoiling the cargo, there will be Hell to pay, I can assure you."

There was several seconds of silence as the men quietly muttered amongst themselves before the silence was finally broken.

"Oh, good," said the elegant voice. "We're here. Roll up to the inn and tie it up."

"Yes, boss," the deep voice said. "Should I check the girl?"

Sylvia yelped under her breath.

"Well, of course!" the elegant voice replied. "Make sure she isn't dead or something. She's been out for a long time."

Sylvia went limp and closed her eyes, feigning unconsciousness as the heavy burlap cover was yanked off from her body. The chilly air brushed against her face for the first time in hours as she heard quiet mumbling over her head.

"Hrm, she's still breathin'," said the man. "I guess she's just a heavy sleeper."

The cloth suddenly fell back upon Sylvia, who continued her facade until she heard the man walk away.

"Okay, who's watchin' the girl, first?" said the deep-voiced man. "I vote Tony."

"Uh, hwuh?" a meek voice said. "B-but I—"

"Hrmmm, yes, I agree," the elegant voice said. "Tony, you're on watch first."

"Uhhh, fiine..." the meek voice responded. "I'll make sure she doesn't get away..."

She heard a cacophony of footsteps in the gravel as most of the men entered a nearby building, leaving Tony alone to guard the cart and, by extension, herself.

Sylvia laid silently for several moments, the sound of crickets chirping and the occasional crunch of gravel as Tony paced about the cart. Once she felt the coast was clear, she tried to bend her left leg. The bonds around her ankles held it fast, but slowly, her foot began to slide out from her boot. With a few tugs, her foot was free, as were her legs entirely. As Sylvia shifted about, she heard gravel crunching once again.

"Oh, great," said the meek voice of Tony. "She's awake. C'mon Tony, you can do this…"

Upon hearing the man speak, Sylvia sat herself up and flexed her right leg. The burlap cover rustled a bit before, suddenly, it was thrown aside, revealing a weedy Iolan man holding a thick branch. Before the man could react, though, Sylvia thrusted her foot forward, kicking the man square in the chest and knocking him backwards. With that, Sylvia hopped down from the cart, landing on her feet, and bolted off, the moonlight lighting her escape.

"Ah, hey!" the man, still on the ground, shouted at Sylvia as she ran off, her wrists still bound and her mouth still gagged. "Come back! Stop!"

Sylvia ignored the man's cries and ran into the city as fast as she could, the gravel stinging the bare sole of her left foot. She glanced back just long enough to see the Iolan man standing up and starting to run after her. She came upon a corner and, very quickly, dashed to the right. Then, as soon as she came upon an alley, she dove in, sitting in the shadows. A few seconds passed, and the man ran past her, completely unaware of her hiding in the alley. Sylvia simply remained, glancing around the building at the Iolan merchant as he vanished into the night.

With a soft sigh, Sylvia relaxed. The man was gone and, for now, she was safe. As she took the moment to catch her breath, however, there was a soft noise from deeper in the alley. Sylvia quickly glanced into the shadows and saw the vague silhouette of a man approaching her. Seeing this, Sylvia, her arms still bound, struggled to stand up as the man rushed towards her.

As Sylvia got to her feet and turned towards the street, the man grabbed her by the arm and dragged her backwards into the alley. Her captor spun her around and pinned her against a wall, giving her a clear view of the man: a hairy, bearded vagrant with tattered, greasy clothes. He smiled widely at Sylvia, what few teeth he had left being visibly rotten.

"Well, the gods were rather generous tonight!" he said. "A beautiful young girl, already bound and gagged!"

Sylvia's eyes turned wide as she began to violently twist and struggle.

"Mmmmph!" she cried out through her gag. "Hmmmmmph!"

The grubby man yanked Sylvia away from the wall and shoved her forward again, making her fall onto her bottom. He then knelt down and crawled onto her.

"Hrrmmmmmmph!" Sylvia continued. "Mmmmmmmrph!"

"Now now, little girl," said the man as he grasped the buckle of Sylvia's belt. "Stay quiet. This won't take long, I promise."

Sylvia, despite the man atop her, continued her struggles, bucking her hips and keeping her belt in motion, preventing the man from undoing it.

"Mmmmmmmmph!" she kept crying, tears rolling down her face. "Rmmmmmmmph!"

The man grabbed her belt and managed to pull it through the buckle, and with that, her leather skirt opened up.

"Oh, hold still!" he snarled through his labor. "Gah, what kind of little girl wears armor like this..."

Sylvia bucked and twisted, still letting out muffled cries of help, as the man loosened her leather leggings. At that point, glancing over her aggressor's shoulder, another, taller man walked up, his face obscured in the shadows of the alley.

"Hmmmph! Hmphm Mmm!" Sylvia cried through her gag. "Hmmphm Mmm!"

The man seemed to look over the scene as the vagrant began to peel away Sylvia's leggings and undergarments, bearing her flesh to the cold midnight air.

"I think you should unhand that young lady, sir," said the mysterious man in a gruff, slightly accented voice.

"Uh, huh," Sylvia's molester hummed as he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, great..."

"Don't make me repeat myself," the tall fellow said. "Step away from the girl. I'd rather not get your foul blood on my clothing."

"Eh heh heh," the slobby man replied, slowly reaching a hand towards his belt while holding up his other. "I know, I know. No need to be so touchy. I'll just get out of your way..."

The man slowly stood up and, suddenly, spun around, swinging a short dagger at the interloper, who stepped away and drew his own, much longer blade. The vagrant continued to swing at the man, who continued to step away from his blows, like a cornered animal.

"Well, lad," the man said as he held his blade over his shoulder. "If you insist."

Just as the crazed attacker took another swing at the man, the man swung his own sword. Its blade intercepted the vagrant's swing, catching him on the hand, taking the dagger and two of his fingers along with it.

"Aaaaaugh!" the aggressor screamed, holding what remained of his bleeding hand.

The swordsman then grabbed the distracted vagrant by his shoulder and, with a quest thrust, ran his blade through his chest. He twitched and sputtered as the swordsman slowly withdrew his blade from his ribcage and shoved him aside.

The man then stepped out from the shadows. He was an older man with a white mustache and thin goatee on his tanned face. His long hair, equally white, was tied into a short brain on the back of his head. He wore a fine white shirt and black breeches, the former now covered in several specks of blood. He looked down at Sylvia, still bound, gagged, and partially exposed. Slowly, he walked up to her.

"What's a young one like you doing out so late at night?" he said as he grabbed Sylvia by the arm and lifted her to her feet. "Here, let me deal with your binds..."

The man stepped behind Sylvia and slipped his sword between her wrists, cutting the rope that tied them together. Immediately, Sylvia grabbed the gag on her face, untied it, and cast it aside.

"Mphah! Oh, thank the gods," she said. "Thank you so much Mister, uhh… Mister..."

"The name's Stone. Sir Connor Stone."

Sylvia's eyes widened.

"A-a knight…?"

"Aye, lass," Connor replied. "Technically, I am, but I find the life of a mercenary much livelier. Your name, lass?"

"Uh, oh! My name's Sylvia Ferr, daughter of Rolph Ferr of Belhame!" she said, standing upright with her arms to her sides. "I'm an aspiring mercenary, myself!"

Connor chuckled as he looked Sylvia over.

"Hard to imagine a young girl such as yourself as a mercenary," he sighed. "Plus, you didn't seem to fare well against that fellow, there."

"H-hey!" Sylvia cried. "I was bound!"

"And how did you get bound, lass?"

"Mrrrrgh," Sylvia groaned. "I was sucker punched! By slavers!"

"Heh, well," said Connor, "learning to suspect a trap is a good skill to have as a merc. Never let your guard down. Never take your hand off your sword until you know for a fact that you're safe."

Sylvia let out an embarrassed sigh. Connor glanced behind him, back to Sylvia, and shrugged.

"I was actually heading to meet a client," he said. "Only reason I found you is because he wanted me to meet him at night."

"I-I see," said Sylvia.

"Put your other boot back on, girl. And fix your pants before someone else sees you like that. You're coming with me."

"Huh— Really?"

Connor glared at her.

"Well, I simply can't leave a young girl out in the city at night, can I? I can assure you there's more scum on these streets at night than just that poor sod there."

Sylvia nodded with a smile as she pulled up her leggings and fixed her belt and skirt. She then quickly untied her left boot from her right and stuffed her foot back into it.

"Alright, sir! Lead the way!" said Sylvia. "So, what kind of work is this client got for you?"

Connor began to walk down the street, Sylvia following close behind.

"It's top secret," he said. "It's a very delicate and personal mission for him."

"Ah, interesting," said Sylvia. "So, like, what is it? You can tell me. You saved me, so would keep your secret."

"Hrmph," Connor groaned. "Such a nosy young girl."

Connor glanced at Sylvia, who was staring at him with anticipation in her eyes.

"Bah, fine," he said. "This client isn't some random employer. He's my lord."

"Y-your lord?" Sylvia asked.

"Aye. His name is Lord Manfred," Connor continued. "An item of his was stolen. An item of great importance."

"I-I see. Where is it, now?"

"I don't know. Lord Manfred does, and will give me the specifics when I meet up with him. Either way, I have my doubts that it's still in Silvern. The thief would have fled after stealing something of such import from a noble."

Sylvia continued alongside the knight, listening to every word of his story.

"Ooh," she said. "So it's..."

A thought entered the young girl's head. Connor was going to go on an adventure, she thought. She'll be there. This is as close as she was going to get to something like this. On the other hand, she thought, her dad was certainly worried, but then again, she'd probably be gone and back before anyone knew it! Maybe, just maybe…

"Sylvia, you alright? You're looking rather flushed," said Connor to Sylvia. "You're not falling ill on me, are you?"

"Huh— Ah, yeah, I'm fine!" Sylvia immediately replied, startled from her fantasies. "Just thinking about what it'd be like to go out on an adventure like that."


"Heh," Connor chuckled. "It certainly does sound enticing, doesn't it? Perhaps when you're a bit older, you could be out there like myself carrying out contracts for people."

"Well, I mean, my dad taught me to use a sword pretty early on," Sylvia responded. "I mean, I doubt I'm as good as you are, but I bet I could hold my own out there!"

Connor laughed out loud as he rested a hand on Sylvia's head, rustling her brown hair.

"Ah hah," he said. "Oh, I remember when I was your age. I thought the same things… I read old tales of heroes and I wanted some of that."

"O-oh!" said Sylvia. "So perhaps I could accompany you on your quest, sir?"

Connor, upon hearing Sylvia's request, emitted a singular chuckle and sighed.

"You still have much to learn before you can go on such a trek, lass," he said. "There's more to it than knowing how to swing a sword."

"B-but I know much more than that!" Sylvia cried out. "My dad told me all kinds of stories about his adventuring days! And besides, would it not be better to learn through experience? How will I get such experience without working in the field?"

"Heh, you're a persistent one, Sylvia," Connor sighed. "I'll leave it up to my lord, but I'll stick to my belief that you'll be a liability. Anyway, here we are. I'll go in first. You stay behind me."

Sylvia nodded as Connor approached a large, ornate door attached to a rather sizeable building. He grabbed the large bronze knocker and crashed it against the door.

"This is Sir Connor Stone reporting for my meeting with the lord! I have a guest, as well!"

There was a loud creak as the door shuddered. Slowly, it opened, and a short, middle-aged man poked his balding head out and looked at the two.

"He was expecting you, Connor, but not the girl," he said in a rather nasally voice. "What's the deal with her?"

"Eh, I more or less saved her from a terrible fate," said Connor. "I can confirm that she is friendly. I'm sure the lord won't mind an extra tonight."

"Eh, very well," the old man said. "I do know the lord has a thing for children..."

"Hwuh? I'm not a child!" Sylvia barked. "I just turned fourteen!"

"Hmmm... myes, quite," the man said before opening the door for the duo. "Just make sure you behave yourself in this estate."

Sylvia, her cheeks inflated, nodded before following Connor into the lord's manor. The walls of the first corridor were decorated with a long line of portraits of various men and women in gaudy attire. There was a door every few meters, but the old man huffed at Sylvia when she so much as glanced at them. Finally, the man rushed towards a specific door on the right side of the hallway and held up a hand, halting Connor and Sylvia.

"He will meet you in here," he said. "Wait here while I inform him of the, uhh… 'extra'..."

With that, the old man vanished past the door while Connor and Sylvia waited patiently outside. They heard muffled speech from the room, but neither of them could make out any meaning. A couple minutes passed, and the man re-emerged.

"Very well," he said. "He'll see both of you."

"Aye. Thanks sir," said Connor as he entered the door.

"No problem, Sir Connor," said the man before glaring at Sylvia. "Any funny business and you'll regret it; got it, kid?"

"Y-yes, I understand," Sylvia agreed rather uncomfortable before rushing up to Connor's side. "Who's that?"

"Oh, that's Lord Manfred's steward. Name's Walt," the knight explained. "Good man, but he's uneasy around strangers."

Sylvia paused and nodded as she and Connor approached a small room. The room was candlelit, with several chairs sitting about in a rough circle. In the corner in an especially large and regal chair was a man in a fancy red robe. His hair was grey and well-groomed, and his face was clean-shaven. Upon seeing him, Connor knelt to one knee.

"Milord," he said softly before glancing to Sylvia. "Lass, kneel."

"Huh? Oh, right!" said Sylvia as she awkwardly dropped to one knee.

The man in the chair glanced over the two before nodding to them.

"Rise," he said, inciting Sylvia and Connor to get back to their feet. "Have a seat. Don't be shy, young one."

Connor walked over to one of the chairs and parked, while Sylvia found her seat on a small stool in the corner.

"So, Sir Connor," the lord said. "What's this about rescuing a young girl?"

Sylvia perked up.

"O-oh, that was me!" she said quickly. "Well, I wouldn't have needed saving, but I was kinda tied up, uhh, literally..."

Lord Manfred blinked at the girl.

"And your name is?" he said.

"M-my name? Uhh, Sylvia! Sylvia Ferr! Daughter of Rolph Ferr! Uhh… of Belhame!"

Lord Manfred chuckled to himself.

"Connor, this girl is adorable!" he blurted out. "Walt! Get the young lady a small meal! I'm sure she hasn't eaten in awhile!"

Walt poked his head into the room and glanced at Sylvia, who was blushing and puffing her cheeks at the lord's remarks.

"Are you serious, milord?" said Walt as he glared at Sylvia.

"Of course! Get her a piece of bird or something. And some wine," Manfred commanded. "And be quick about it, too."

Walt huffed and vanished back into the hallway as Lord Manfred turned back towards Connor.

"Anyway, Sir Connor, I am very glad that you could attend this meeting on such short notice, so let's—"

Lord Manfred paused, blinked, and turned his head towards Sylvia.

"Eeh, actually," he began. "This is a fairly private matter, so—"

Connor lifted a hand, catching his lord's eye.

"Wait, milord," he said. "I, eeh, promised the girl I would ask about something."

Lord Manfred squinted as Connor, glancing at Sylvia before returning his attention to his knight.

"Oh, what is the matter, sir?" he said. "Does she want anything? Ms. Ferr, I can provide meager support to you for the night, especially after your traumatic experience."

"Eh, actually, milord," Connor said. "It involves the mission. This young girl, from what she told me, has had some form of combat training and wishes to accompany me."

Lord Manfred squinted again. He leaned forward, turning his attention to Sylvia, who slightly blushed and nodded slowly.

"Uh, y-yeah!" said Sylvia. "I know how to use my sword! I can defend myself in the wilderness! I am fit and willing to put myself on the line for a chance to prove myself!"

"Well, yes," Connor added. "However, I have no proof to indicate this experience and, in fact, have seen evidence to the contrary. I do believe allowing her to accompany me would do nothing but send a youth to her grave."

"H-hey, you said you'd ask him if I could come!" Sylvia cried at the knight.

"I said I would bring it to his attention," Connor responded. "I still believe such a thing would be most foolish."

"Hmmmm," said Lord Manfred. "I will discuss the specifics with both of you, and we can sort this dilemma out once we are all aware of the facts, yes?"

"M-milord, you're not seriously considering her request, are you?" Connor exclaimed, shifting onto the edge of his chair somewhat. "She is but a little girl! Young and fragile! Not fit for the field!"

As Sylvia grumbled at yet another remark on her age, the door swung open, Walt wheeling in a short cart of wood and iron topped by a dome lid. He took the cart to the center of the room and removed the lid, revealing three glasses of red wine and a silver plate topped with a steaming piece of poultry and an ornate leaf of some sort. Walt handed Sylvia the plate and one of the wine glasses. Connor and Manfred simply leaned forward and grabbed their glasses from the cart themselves.

"Ah, thank you, Walt! Always diligent," said Lord Manfred. "Now allow us to discuss this important matter."

Walt bowed his head to his master.

"Yes, very well, milord," he said. "Don't keep yourself awake too long."

Walt gave one more quick nod before turning the cart around and wheeling it back out the way he came, leaving the three people alone. Sylvia glared into her glass of wine, shook it a bit, and sniffed it.

"I-I've never had wine before..." she sighed. "Is it good?"

"Heh, go on and try it, Ms. Ferr," said Lord Manfred as he took a small sip from his own glass. "I assure you that you will not regret it."

Sylvia blinked at her glass before cautiously lifting it to her lips and taking a tiny sip. Meanwhile, Manfred turned back to face his knight.

"Anyway, here is what I need of you, Sir Connor," said Lord Manfred. "I told you that something of great value to me was stolen."

"Yes, milord," said Sir Connor. "Do you know who could have taken it? Obviously, if it was random thief, they would have vanished into the wilderness without a trace."

Lord Manfred briefly smirked as he nodded confidently.

"Yes," he said. "I know exactly who stole it from me, and I know where you can find him, too."

"Well, that makes this much easier," Connor replied. "Who took it, and where is he?"

"A fellow noble," Sir Manfred explained. "He goes by Lord Calden. We used to have, eh, overlapping interests, but we had a falling out, and so he fled the kingdom to Freeport."

Sir Connor nodded.

"I see, milord."

"Yes, and obviously, he didn't come to take this item himself. He has underlings, and a great many, too. His wealth is slowly waning, but he's been making great use of it, as of late, to secure this item of mine. I thought it was safe, but, well, even great men err on occasion."

"I see, milord, but, if I may be so bold to ask," said Connor, "what is this item? You've yet to disclose its identity. I cannot retrieve it if I cannot recognize it."

Lord Manfred paused for a brief moment before subtly nodding.

"Yes, I guess I do owe you that much," he said. "This item is, in fact a ring. It is not like an ordinary ring, though. It is of a spiral-shape, carved rather meticulously from ebony. It is adorned with a round obsidian stone flecked with shimmering violet spots."

"That sounds very distinct," said Connor.

"Aye, Sir Connor," Lord Manfred responded. "Now, Lord Calden has many connections here in the Midlands, still, so I suspect it's best to keep a low profile on your way to Freeport. Leaving late at night, make your way to the city of Maren by foot, alone. There, I have earned the favor of a certain sea captain. Eh, give me one second..."

Lord Manfred reached into his robe. He pulled out a small envelope with a red wax seal holding it shut. Connor leaned forward and grabbed the note.

"Just give him that, and he'll know what to do. Lord Calden has a manor in the city of Freeport. Simply confront him there if you need to, or simply sneak in and take it without catching his ire. It does not matter as long as you come back alive with the ring."

"Yes, milord," said Connor, raising his wineglass. "That sounds like a daunting task, especially if the girl wishes to accompany me."

Sylvia lifted her face from the plate, her mouth full of meat.

"Hmph!?" she mumbled through her mouthful before quickly swallowing it all. "Just to Freeport? Uhh, how far is that away?"

"Several days to Maren alone, by foot," said Connor. "Plus, about a day's voyage by sea from there."

"Uhh, wow. That's a long time," said Sylvia. "A lot longer than I thought."

"Does this mean you're withdrawing your request to aid me, then?" Connor asked, making eye contact with Sylvia.

"Wha— Of course not!" Sylvia barked loudly. "I'll just need to send some mail, is all..."

Lord Manfred nodded meaningfully towards Sylvia and Connor, taking the last sip of his wine before turning to look at Sylvia.

"I see. You're still insistent on accompanying Sir Connor on this vital and dangerous mission," said the lord. "The biggest issue is how you'd survive. Eh, you have a sword, and you claim to know well enough to make proper use of it..."

Lord Manfred stood up and began to walk towards the door.

"If both of you could please follow me to the courtyard, I'd like to test Sylvia's abilities."

"Uhh, what do you mean?" said Connor as he and Sylvia both stood up. "You seriously think she has what it takes?"

"Well, we won't know until we test her," said Sir Manfred as he lead his guests down a corridor into a large dining hall. "She says she does, and there's only one way to know for sure."

The trio walked across the dining hall to a small door. Through that door was a large square yard enclosed within the manor's walls. Lit up rather dimly by a series of lanterns, the courtyard was circled by many small trees and shrubs with a square clod of dirt circled by a stone border in the center. As Lord Manfred lead Sylvia and Connor to the center, he reached towards a rack near the wall and grabbed two long wooden poles. Upon reaching the dirt area, he tossed one pole to Sylvia and Connor each, both handily catching them mid-air.

"Now, Sir Connor, I will watch you spar with the young lady," said the lord. "When I say go, fight as if your life depended on it."

"Very well," said Connor as he gripped the pole and faced Sylvia. "I will not hold back. I will show you what forty years of experience means, young one."

Sylvia, likewise, gripped her pole with both hands and braced herself. She gulped nervously as she stared the seasoned knight down.

"I-I'm not afraid at all, sir!" Sylvia retorted. "I'm ready whenever you are!"

Lord Manfred quickly stepped to the side and lifted a hand to the air.

"Aaaaand go!"

Upon hearing Lord Manfred's signal, Sylvia immediately lunged forward at Connor, who held his ground. However, Sylvia stopped several feet short of the man and hopped back, slowly beginning to circle around him. Connor continued to face the girl, slowly turning with Sylvia. After several seconds of circling, Sylvia once again lunged forward and swung her pole at Connor.

"Clack!"

Connor's pole quickly rose into the air and caught Sylvia's. Sylvia quickly pulled away and immediately swung horizontally. Her attack was caught once again by Connor, his pole stopping Sylvia's dead. Connor then pulled back and swung at her. Sylvia stumbled backwards, nearly dropping her pole before regaining her composure.

"You fight rather predictably, Sylvia," he said. "That won't do you much good on the field."

Sylvia simply gripped her pole and rushed forward once again. She swung once again, Connor stepping aside and countering with a swing of his own. This time, Sylvia threw herself out of the way, sending herself tumbling down onto her side, her pole falling beside her.

"I don't think you're taking this very seriously," Connor groaned. "You speak of experience, and yet I bested you so easily."

Sylvia slowly got to her feet, grabbing her pole and firmly grasping it with both hands.

"I'm not done yet," she grumbled, turning to face Connor. "I can keep going!"

"Hah, I admire your spirit," Connor chuckled. "Very well. If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you will most certainly get."

With that, Connor charged. He swung at Sylvia, who parried his blow with a loud 'crack'. Right away, he pulled back and swung again at a different angle. Sylvia hastily positioned her pole to parry the second blow and took a step back. A third time, Connor swung, with Sylvia blocking the blow once more. Sylvia slowly walked backwards, parrying blow after blow from Connor.

"Huh, you are good at defending," the knight said, continuing his onslaught. "But defense alone will not win your battles, lass!"

"Hmph," Sylvia retorted. "I-I know!"

Connor nodded and swung once more. Sylvia leaped backwards, the draft of the pole brushing her face as she dodged. She then rushed forward at Connor, who lifted his pole for another swing. It came down, and Sylvia side-stepped, once again feeling the wind from Connor's swing. Connor paused and glanced at Sylvia before quickly leaping back, dodging a swing from the girl. He then immediately swung down on Sylvia. She yelped as she stumbled out of the way of the attack, her rear hitting the dirt with a soft thud.

"Hrmn, you're quite lithe, young one!" said Connor as he withdrew his pole. "This is actually getting rather fun!"

Sylvia, after standing back up, hopped away and slowly circled Connor as she did at the beginning of the fight. She held eye contact with him, smirking.

"My dad always told me I was pretty quick," she replied. "He always told me to be fast and I'll always be fine."

"Well, then come at me!" Connor taunted. "I've never been one for this manner of stalling!"

Sylvia nodded before leaping backwards. She then hopped forward to the left, then to the right, continuing in a zigzag rush at the knight. Connor chuckled at Sylvia's pattern of attack and braced himself. Sylvia approached, and just as she dove towards Connor, she stopped mid-leap, shifting to the left and immediately charging his flank. Connor's eyes widened as he realized what had happened.

"Hng- wha!?"

Connor spun around and barely caught Sylvia's pole with his own, but he was sent reeling backwards. As he regaining his footing, Sylvia continued her attacks, swinging rapidly at Connor, who struggled to regain his momentum.

"Guh… I must admit that feint was, eh, not expected," Connor groaned as he continued to defend.

"Hehe, not so predictable now, eh?" Sylvia teased as she fought.

"Eh, well, the night is interfering, as well," said Connor. "Even the best fighter loses some edge in the dark."

Parrying another blow, Connor ducked and thrusted his blade at Sylvia. The young girl, taken aback, dove away, barely dodging the strike. Connor then turned towards his staggered adversary and charged. Sylvia stood, gasping, her eyes facing downward as Connor made his move. As soon as he was upon her though, Sylvia, with a smirk, suddenly and swiftly lifted her pole and thrusted it at the knight. Once again caught off guard, Connor struggled to stop himself. His momentum carried him forward, however, and the tip of the pole poked his chest.

The fight was interrupted by clapping as Lord Manfred stepped onto the field.

"Good, good," he said. "That's enough. I've seen plenty."

Connor mumbled to himself and dropped his pole.

"Impressive for someone of your age," the knight said. "Still have a lot to learn, though..."

"D-did I win?" said Sylvia, sweat pouring from her brow.

"Well, considering where we were when the lord stopped us," Connor replied. "I'd do say, but… Sylvia, a real battle isn't going to be like that. A bandit won't give you a chance to stand back up. You fall, and they won't hesitate to slay you right then and there."

Sylvia let out a deep sigh.

"I see, sir..."

"Plus, there's more to a journey like this than being a good fighter, lass. The wilderness is dangerous, and the slightest mishap could kill you, injure you, or make you fall gravely ill. It's not just about being able to fight bandits and wild animals."

Lord Manfred stepped between the two, turning to face Connor with a stern countenance.

"Well, we've at least established that Sylvia is a decent fighter," he said before turning to Sylvia. "Say, lass. When did you start learning to fight like that? Who taught you?"

Sylvia blushed and shrugged.

"Eh, I think my dad started teaching me a few tricks when I was eight. Just with his daggers, though," she explained. "When I got older, he let me use his big ol' greatsword, but that was rather cumbersome for someone of my stature. This sword he gifted me for my birthday feels really natural. Not too small, but not terribly awkward."

"I see," said Lord Manfred with a nod. "That certainly explains your prowess. It seems early learners pick it up the fastest. Of course, you're still very young, fragile, and a bit naive."

"Oh, I see," said Sylvia, nodding somewhat uneasily.

"That said, however, I'm sure Sir Connor can teach you along the way when you both head towards Freeport."

Sylvia and Connor both immediately glared at Lord Manfred.

"Milord, you can't be serious," Connor complained. "Yes, she proved quite handy with a sword, but that's it!"

"Then it is upon you, Sir Connor, to make sure she learns what she needs to know."

"T-this could jeopardize the mission!"

"I'm sure Sylvia will be an asset. I understand your aversion to travelling with such a young individual, but she has proven herself right here, and I will allow her to go."

Connor glanced at Sylvia, then back to Lord Manfred before sighing and heading back inside.

"Very well," he grumbled. "I'll prepare for the trip..."

After watching his knight depart, Lord Manfred turned to Sylvia.

"Don't mind him," he said. "He became a fighter as a young adult and has been ever since. I've been warning him that his age has been catching up to him, but he'll hear none of it."

"I see," said Sylvia. "He seems really tough, though."

"Heh, indeed. He's a good swordsman and a great outdoorsman, but he's not a young man, anymore. He needs someone to accompany him, and you're more than good enough to do so."

Sylvia smiled brightly and bowed deeply to Lord Manfred.

"Thank you very much for this," she said. "I am sincerely in your debt."

Lord Manfred nodded sincerely.

"It is nothing, lass," he replied. "You have 24 hours to prepare. I already have gear and supplied available to you, but feel free to rest up, write letters, do what you need to do."

"Very well. I will do so, then. Again, thank you, Lord Manfred."

"You are welcome, Ms. Ferr. Now, go prepare yourself."

Sylvia nodded and returned to the manor. A warm feeling rushed through her body. She was eager for her first adventure. Finally, she was going to live the stories her dad had told her many times in her life.