10,000 Gold

Right to his word, we arrived in Velbridge in no time.

The city stretched out before us, a bustling hub of activity nestled against the curve of a wide, slow-moving river. Velbridge wasn’t as sprawling as Caerwyn, but it had a charm of its own—a smaller, tighter-knit energy that pulsed through its cobbled streets. The buildings were tall and closely packed, their red-tiled roofs glinting in the pale light of the overcast day. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, mingling with the smell of baked bread, damp stone, and the faint metallic tang of industry.

Though not as diverse as Caerwyn, Velbridge still attracted its share of travelers and residents from across the lands. Humans made up most of the population, but I spotted a few elves in the mix, their graceful strides and pointed ears standing out against the crowd. An orc, heavily armored and carrying what looked like a crate of supplies, lumbered past without so much as a glance in our direction.

But no dwarves. No halflings, either. I remembered noticing the same thing the last time I was here, though I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Maybe Velbridge didn’t hold much appeal for the shorter folk, or maybe they just had better places to be.

We approached the entrance—a massive stone bridge that spanned the river with impressive grandeur. The bridge arched high, its pale gray stones intricately carved with swirling patterns and the occasional emblem of Velbridge’s crest: a griffin holding a sword. It was wide enough to accommodate multiple wagons and pedestrians at once, though the flow of traffic was slowed considerably by the tight security at the far end.

Soldiers were stationed at regular intervals along the bridge, their armor polished to a dull sheen, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords or spears. At the checkpoint, a small group of guards questioned everyone attempting to enter. The line moved slowly, though no one seemed inclined to complain—not with the way the soldiers were watching every gesture, every twitch, like hawks.

Kael glanced at the line of guards ahead, then back at me, his grin widening. “Oh, don’t worry about this,” he said with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “Piece of cake. I know the guards.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know the guards?”

“Of course!” he said, puffing out his chest like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Velbridge and I go way back. Just leave it to me.”

I crossed my arms, eyeing him skeptically. “And by ‘know the guards,’ you mean what, exactly? You’ve actually spoken to them, or they’ve chased you out of the city before?”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “Thalia, please. Have some faith.”

“Faith isn’t exactly my strong suit,” I muttered, but he didn’t seem to hear me—or more likely, he pretended not to.

Kael strode forward confidently, weaving through the line with an ease that should have annoyed me but somehow didn’t. He approached the nearest guard, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a face that looked like it had been carved from stone.

“Hey, Tomas!” Kael called out, raising a hand in greeting like they were old friends.

The guard turned, his eyes narrowing at the sound of Kael’s voice. For a moment, I braced myself, half-expecting this to turn into yet another mess I’d have to clean up.

Then, to my surprise, Tomas’s stern expression softened. “Kael?” he said, his voice tinged with mild disbelief.

“That’s me,” Kael said, flashing his trademark grin. “Back again! You know I can’t stay away from Velbridge for too long.”

The guard shook his head, letting out a gruff chuckle. “What trouble are you bringing this time?”

“No trouble at all,” Kael said, gesturing back toward me with a flourish. “Just me and my traveling companion here, looking to get in. You know how it is.”

Tomas gave me a once-over, his gaze lingering on the staff in my hand before meeting my eyes. “And you are?”

“Thalia,” I said simply, my tone even.

“She’s good,” Kael cut in before I could say anything more, his tone cheerful and disarming. “Great, actually. You’ll love her. Best mage I’ve ever met.”

I shot him a look, but he just kept grinning.

Tomas raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but he waved us through with a curt nod. “Alright, Kael. Just keep out of trouble, for once.”

“Trouble?” Kael said, pressing a hand to his chest like the very idea offended him. “Tomas, you wound me.”

The guard rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let us pass.

As we walked across the bridge, I couldn’t help but glance at Kael, who looked entirely too pleased with himself. “You actually do know the guards,” I said, more surprised than I cared to admit.

“Told you,” he said, shooting me a wink. “Piece of cake.”

I shook my head, a small smirk tugging at my lips despite myself. “You’re lucky, kid.”

“Not lucky,” he corrected, twirling his short blade idly as we walked. “Charming.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I muttered, but for once, I let it slide.

As we crossed into Velbridge, Kael walked with a spring in his step, glancing back at me every few seconds like he had something to say but couldn’t decide if it was worth saying. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Tomas and I go way back,” he said, flashing that grin again. “We were under the same teacher, actually. Trained in the same school.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You were classmates with a city guard?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! Tomas was one of those quiet, ‘do everything by the book’ types even back then. Me?” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Let’s just say I was the fun one. But hey, he’s good people. Always had my back, even when I... bent the rules a little.”

“Bending the rules,” I repeated dryly. “That sounds about right.”

Kael laughed, completely unbothered by the jab, and turned his attention to the city.

Velbridge hummed with life around us, even in this cloudy weather. The cobblestone streets were crowded with merchants calling out their wares, the smell of roasted nuts and spiced meat wafting through the air. A trio of elves walked by, their flowing robes contrasting sharply with the utilitarian attire of the orc laborers unloading crates from a wagon nearby. Children darted between stalls, their laughter ringing out as they dodged irritable vendors waving them away.

The city wasn’t as overwhelming as Caerwyn, but it had its own unique energy. Everything here felt closer, more compact. The buildings leaned in on each other as though sharing secrets, and every corner seemed to promise a new discovery—or a new scam, depending on your luck.

Kael was taking it all in with wide eyes, nodding to passersby and throwing an occasional wave to those who glanced his way. He seemed entirely at ease here, navigating the crowd like he’d done it a thousand times before.

After a moment, he glanced at me with a curious tilt of his head. “So, is it true?” he asked.

“Is what true?” I replied, keeping an eye on the flow of traffic as we moved.

“That you’re actually a great mage?” he said, his tone light but with an undertone of genuine curiosity.

I raised my chin slightly, smirking as I replied, “Of course.”

Kael blinked, then laughed, the sound bright and infectious. “No hesitation, huh? Just straight-up ‘of course.’ I like the confidence!”

“It’s not confidence,” I said smoothly, “it’s a fact.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grinning as he sidestepped a merchant rolling a barrel past us. “Guess I’ll have to stick around and see for myself, won’t I?”

I shot him a side-eye, but there was no malice in his words, just that same unshakable enthusiasm. “If you can keep up,” I said, my voice tinged with dry amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he replied, twirling his short blade like it was part of his body. “I’m pretty good at sticking around.”

I shook my head, hiding the small smile tugging at my lips. “We’ll see.”

We arrived in front of the pub—a sturdy, weathered building with a hanging wooden sign that read The Rusted Griffin. The carved image of a griffin, its wings spread wide and its talons holding a rusted sword, swayed gently in the breeze.

I’d been here before, back when Roderick and I had taken a mission to hunt down a vicious razorback drake terrorizing the nearby farmlands. Good pay, good mission, though the drake’s venom nearly cost Roderick a finger. This time, though, I wasn’t sure what I’d find.

As I reached for the door, I noticed Kael wasn’t beside me. I turned to see him lingering a few steps back, his head swiveling as he scanned the street.

“What’s the holdup?” I asked, one hand on the door.

Kael’s eyes darted back to me, and he grinned, that same boyish grin that made it hard to stay annoyed. “You go ahead,” he said, waving me off. “I’ve got... other things to attend to. I’ll see you soon!”

Before I could question him further, he turned on his heel and strolled off, his casual, carefree attitude entirely intact.

I shrugged. “Suit yourself,” I muttered, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

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The Rusted Griffin wasn’t as lively as usual. The familiar warmth of the place—the crackling hearth, the smell of ale and roasted meat, the hum of conversation—was muted. Fewer tables were occupied, and the usual raucous laughter and shouts of drunken adventurers were replaced by a more subdued murmur.

But it didn’t take long to notice why.

A group of people was gathered near the mission board at the far end of the room, their voices low but tense as they murmured among themselves. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the way they leaned in close, their eyes darting between the board and each other—it was clear something interesting had caught their attention.

I adjusted my pack, my curiosity piqued, and made my way toward the crowd. Whatever was on that board, it was drawing a lot of interest. And I had a feeling it wasn’t just a routine hunt.

As I got closer to the mission board, the murmurs of the crowd grew louder. People were speaking in hushed tones, their faces a mix of awe, excitement, and apprehension. I stepped around a particularly burly elf who was blocking the view and finally saw it—the mission that had everyone buzzing.

And no wonder.

10,000 gold.

The number alone was enough to make anyone stop and stare, but it was the two words underneath that really sealed the deal:

Dragon Slayer Needed.

I raised an eyebrow, reading the details carefully. A dragon had been spotted near the mountains west of Velbridge, terrorizing villages, torching fields, and taking livestock. The pay was staggering—far more than any monster-slaying job I’d ever seen. Enough to set someone up for life.

Or, more likely, enough to make someone risk throwing their life away.

The air around the board was thick with a mix of greed and dread. I caught snippets of conversation:

“A dragon? No way. That’s suicide.”

“10,000 gold... you could buy your own tavern with that kind of money!”

“They say dragons are smarter than we are. How the hell are we supposed to kill something like that?”

I stayed quiet, letting the chatter wash over me as I scanned the rest of the job’s details. The contact was the villager head of one of the villages—desperate, probably, to offer that kind of money. I tapped the paper lightly, my mind already running through strategies, weighing the risks.

A dragon-slaying mission. Dangerous? Absolutely. Worth it?

I glanced at the group still huddled near the board, most of them looking more nervous than willing. None of them were stepping up. They were just talking, hesitating, calculating their odds.

I smirked to myself. “Well,” I muttered under my breath, “someone’s got to take the job.”

“Indeed,” came a gruff voice beside me, startling me slightly. “Someone’s got to take the job.”

I turned to see the source of the voice and found myself looking up—way up—at a towering figure. The man was massive, built like a walking fortress, with broad shoulders and arms that looked like they could snap a tree in half. His beard was thick and grey, streaked with hints of white, giving him an air of rugged wisdom. Despite his age, he moved with the quiet confidence of someone who’d seen more than his fair share of battles.

Strapped to his back was a hammer that looked almost as big as I was. The weapon’s head was blocky and worn, its surface etched with faint runes that hinted at something more than brute force. The leather grip was darkened with years of use, the mark of someone who knew exactly how to wield it.

The man crossed his arms, looking down at me with piercing grey eyes that seemed to weigh every inch of me in an instant. “Wanna team up?” he asked, his tone casual but direct.

I hesitated.

Teaming up meant splitting the reward. 10,000 gold sounded like a dream—but 5,000? That was a little less dreamlike. Still, it wasn’t exactly pocket change, and... this was a dragon.

A dragon.

I couldn’t even pretend I’d stand a chance against one on my own. Even with Roderick at my side, I’d have second—and third—thoughts about taking this mission. This guy, though? He carried himself like someone who’d been through worse and come out the other side alive. The grey in his beard wasn’t just age—it was experience.

And that hammer... yeah, not bad.

I exhaled slowly, my hand still hovering near the mission notice. “Well,” I said, glancing up at him, “I’m Thalia. Who are you?”

He grinned, his expression warming slightly beneath the rugged exterior. “Name’s Bram,” he said, extending a hand that looked big enough to crush mine if he wasn’t careful. “Bram of Ironvale. Figured we might stand a better chance together, mage.”

I took his hand, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Maybe,” I replied. “You’re not wrong—it’s a dragon. If it weren’t for the gold, I’d say it’s a suicide mission.”

“Aye,” Bram said with a chuckle, releasing my hand. “But if you’re gonna go out, might as well go out swinging, eh?”

“Fair enough,” I said, smirking. “Alright, Bram. Let’s talk strategy.”

“Ah, but hold on,” Bram said, raising a large hand high above his head. “There’s one more you’ll want to meet.”

From the crowd near the mission board, a figure moved toward us with an effortless grace that instantly caught my attention. She was tall, with dark, braided hair that fell neatly over one shoulder and skin that glowed with the warm tone of polished mahogany. Her piercing green eyes sparkled with intelligence, framed by delicate features that could’ve belonged to a queen rather than an adventurer.

The woman wore a set of light leather armor, practical and well-worn, accented with a few silver charms that jingled softly as she approached. A satchel rested against her hip, filled with vials and small tools, while a slender wand was strapped to her forearm, within easy reach.

“This,” Bram said proudly, clapping a massive hand on her shoulder, “is Lyara, the best healer you’ll find this side of the continent. Without her, I’d’ve been dead a dozen times over.”

Lyara gave him a look, half-amused and half-exasperated, before turning her gaze to me. “You make it sound like you’re constantly getting yourself killed,” she said, her voice smooth and calm.

Bram shrugged with a grin. “Well, that’s where you come in, isn’t it?”

Lyara rolled her eyes but smiled fondly before offering me her hand. “Lyara of Deepmere,” she said. “I specialize in battlefield healing—quick restoration spells, injury stabilization, and warding against poisons and curses. Bram’s exaggerating, of course, but I do try to keep him in one piece.”

“Exaggerating?” Bram scoffed, crossing his arms. “Remember that wyvern job? Half my ribs shattered, poison pumping through my veins, and you fixed me up good as new!”

Lyara sighed, clearly used to his theatrics. “He’s not wrong,” she admitted, glancing back at me. “I focus on utility magic—keeping my allies alive and functional during battle. I can also amplify the effects of healing potions and enchant armor to withstand a little more punishment.”

I nodded, impressed despite myself. “Sounds useful,” I said, my eyes flicking between the two of them.

“She’s more than useful,” Bram said with a firm nod. “Been with me for years now. There’s no one I trust more to watch my back.”

Lyara smiled softly at his words but didn’t add to them.

As I listened, my thoughts started racing. 10,000 gold. Divided by three people, that’s around 3,000 each. Not as jaw-dropping as the full amount, but still enough to keep me set for years. Maybe even decades if I played my cards right.

And with a healer on board? That was an investment in staying alive long enough to enjoy it.

I glanced between Bram and Lyara again, weighing my options. It wasn’t a hard decision.

“Well,” I said, crossing my arms with a faint smirk. “You’ve got yourself a mage, if you’ll have me.”

Bram grinned. “Knew you’d come around.”

Lyara nodded, her green eyes sharp and assessing. “Good to have you.”

And with that, the team was set.

We picked a table near the back, where the noise of the pub was quieter but the fire still kept the chill at bay. It’s started raining outside. Not too hard thankfully, but still soaking wet.

As we settled in, the conversation turned to the plan. Bram leaned forward, his broad arms resting on the table as he laid it out. “It’ll take us about two days of walking to reach the dragon’s lair,” he said. “Nothing too terrible—been through worse hikes, I reckon.”

I nodded, tearing into a piece of bread that was a bit tougher than I liked. Two days wasn’t bad. I’d walked far more treacherous paths in less time.

Lyara sipped her ale, her movements graceful even in the rough surroundings. “The terrain around the lair is rocky,” she added, her tone practical. “If it’s anything like the reports say, the dragon’s holed up somewhere high, maybe a cavern near the peak. We’ll need to be ready for steep climbs and uneven ground.”

“Good thing I’ve got strong legs,” Bram said with a wink, nudging her lightly. Lyara rolled her eyes but smiled, a soft, private expression that made me suddenly aware of the small gestures they shared—the subtle touches, the way they looked at each other with familiarity and affection.

It made my stomach twist, though I’d never admit it. Not out loud. Not when it was their table and their moment. I busied myself with my drink, trying to ignore the faint pang of... jealousy?

Ridiculous.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable watching them. They were so in sync, so obviously in love, and here I was—third-wheeling my way to a dragon’s den. But gold was gold, and if it meant dealing with their cozy little romance for a while, so be it.

“So,” I said, breaking the moment with a deliberate shift in tone. “Let’s talk about what we bring to the table. Dragons aren’t exactly easy to kill.”

Bram leaned back, grinning like this was his favorite part. “Simple,” he said, patting the handle of his massive hammer. “I hit it. Hard. And I keep hitting it until it’s dead.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s your strategy?”

“Works more often than you’d think,” Bram said with a shrug. “That hammer’s enchanted, by the way. Weaker dragons get stunned by it, and even the tough ones feel it when I bring it down.”

“It’s true,” Lyara said, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Bram’s strength keeps enemies focused on him. And when they’re distracted...” She tapped the wand on her forearm, a faint green glow flickering from it. “That’s where I come in. I’ll keep you two patched up, deflect as much damage as I can, and, if necessary, slow the dragon down with warding magic. It won’t kill it, but it’ll give us more time to act.”

“And me?” I asked, leaning back with a smirk.

“Firepower,” Bram said immediately, nodding at my staff. “You’re our heavy hitter. Dragons are tough, but enough concentrated magic in the right spot? They’ll feel it.”

“And their weak spot?” Lyara asked, glancing at me.

“The head, usually,” I said, my voice thoughtful. “The eyes, specifically. If we can land a good enough blow there, it might give us the edge we need.”

“Good,” Lyara said, her tone approving. “We’ll need coordination for that. I’ll make sure you both have the time and space to aim properly.”

Bram grinned. “See? We’ve got a solid team. The dragon doesn’t stand a chance.”

I smiled faintly, though the confidence in his voice made me wonder. Dragons didn’t exactly have a reputation for dying easily. But with a hammer-wielding tank and a healer by my side, the odds were... better.

Probably.

We finished our meal in relative quiet, the clatter of plates and mugs gradually fading as we wrapped up our plans. The warmth of the pub, though comforting, couldn’t shake the underlying tension of what lay ahead. Bram paid the bill with a handful of coins, and the three of us stepped outside into the cool drizzle of rain.

The sound of rain hitting cobblestones greeted us, a steady rhythm that dampened the lively hum of the city. But as my boots splashed onto the street, I noticed something else—something that froze me mid-step.

About ten feet from the pub’s entrance, seven men lay sprawled across the ground, groaning or completely unconscious. Their bodies were scattered like discarded puppets, their weapons strewn about in the muck.

And in the middle of it all stood Kael.

His fists were bloody, his knuckles raw, but his grin was as bright and mischievous as ever. He stood with his shoulders squared, one foot planted on the chest of a particularly burly man who seemed to have been the last to go down. Kael’s short blade was still sheathed, his victory delivered entirely with his bare hands.

“Well, this is awkward,” he said, catching sight of us. He gave a little wave, as though we’d just stumbled on him mid-shopping trip rather than mid-brawl.

I stared at him for a moment, the absurdity of the scene taking a moment to settle in. “Kael,” I said slowly, stepping forward. “What—what are you doing?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, wiping his hands on his tunic like he was cleaning off dirt instead of blood. “What? These guys started it.” He gestured to the fallen men with a lazy wave. “Guess they didn’t like me chatting up the wrong girl or something. Honest misunderstanding.”

Bram let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he surveyed the carnage. “You took out seven men by yourself?”

Kael grinned, stretching his arms above his head like he hadn’t just been in a street brawl. “What can I say? I’ve got a gift.”

I exchanged a look with Lyara, who arched a skeptical eyebrow, then turned back to Kael. An idea—an absolutely insane, reckless idea—sparked in my mind.

“He’s with us,” I said, pointing at Kael as I turned to Bram and Lyara.

“What?” Lyara asked, her tone incredulous.

Bram raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I said firmly. “We’re going up against a dragon, remember? Extra hands—especially hands that can do that—might make the difference.”

Kael’s grin widened, and he stepped over one of the groaning men to stand next to me. “Aw, Thalia,” he said, clasping his hands together in mock gratitude. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” I muttered, shooting him a sharp look.

“Never,” he said, flashing a wink before looking at Bram and Lyara. “So, what’s this about a dragon?”

Lyara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, while Bram chuckled. “Kid’s got guts,” Bram said, shaking his head. “Alright, he’s in. But if he gets himself killed, it’s not on me.”

“Welcome to the team,” I said dryly, turning toward the direction of the road. “Let’s just hope you’re as good at fighting dragons as you are at bar brawls.”

Kael laughed, falling into step beside us. “Oh, I’m better,” he said with a wink.

Gods help me.

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To be continued