Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting soft golden light into the guest chambers of Countess Elara’s estate. The scent of last night’s wine and mead lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the warmth of the sunlight that slowly crept across the floor. The quiet peace of the morning was only disturbed by the soft sound of breathing, the room still in a gentle slumber.

In one corner, Goldie’s small, fluffy form was sprawled out, his round butt resting unceremoniously on Trickster’s head, much to the snake’s seeming indifference.

On one of the beds, Rowan and Layla were huddled together, limbs intertwined beneath the covers. Layla was the first to stir, her head pounding from the remnants of last night’s drinks. Layla blinked sleepily, the dull ache in her head making it hard to think straight. As her vision cleared, she became aware of warmth resting on her chest. It took a moment to register Rowan's face buried in her breasts as she tightly hugged him. When the realisation hit, her cheeks flushed bright red.

Silas, fully awake in the adjacent bed, stifled a laugh as he observed the scene.

Layla’s eyes widened, and with an embarrassed yelp, she shoved Rowan away, causing him to stir awake in confusion. He groaned, his hand instinctively reaching for his head as he realised he wasn’t feeling much better than she was.

“W-what?” Rowan mumbled, blinking blearily at Layla, then glancing over at Silas, who was watching them with obvious amusement.

“Morning,” Silas said, his grin widening as Rowan’s own face turned a shade of pink to match Layla’s. “You two sure look lively for someone who can’t hold their drinks.”

“Say another word, and I’m using my morningstar on you,” Layla groaned, shooting him a glare.

“Yeah, I’m with Layla on this one.” Rowan said, clearly picking his side.

The commotion roused Goldie and Trickster from their unusual sleeping arrangement. Trickster hissed softly as Layla’s threat broke the quiet morning, his coiled body tensing in irritation. Goldie let out a lazy “Wow” before rolling back into sleep.

Silas, still chuckling, swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come on, you two. Fresh air and a trip to the market will fix that hangover. Plus, Ironvale’s a good place to get materials for Layla’s Elemental Bond ceremony.”

Layla sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute to feel like a human again.”

Rowan groaned in agreement. “I’m going to need a bath first. A very long one.”

After a much-needed soak and fresh clothes, the three of them, along with Trickster and Goldie, descended to the grand hall where Countess Elara and her companions awaited. The warm light filtering through the high windows cast a serene glow over the elegant room.

“Leaving so soon?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. His sharp gaze softened when he saw the weariness on Rowan and Layla’s faces.

“We’ve got some things to take care of,” Silas said with a smile, glancing between his two friends, who were clearly sluggish from last night. “But thanks for the hospitality, Countess. We appreciate everything.”

The Countess, ever gracious, smiled warmly at them. “You’re always welcome here. Don’t hesitate to come back if you need anything.” With a fluid motion, she produced a sealed letter from the folds of her robe and handed it to Layla. “This is a letter of recommendation—and proof that you’ve completed your trial, signed by me.”

Layla blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by the gesture, and then quickly bowed her head. “Thank you, Countess. We didn’t expect this.”

Rowan, equally stunned, echoed her gratitude, while Silas gave the Countess a deeper nod of respect. “You’ve done more than we could have asked for,” he said.

The Countess's smile softened. “Take care of yourselves.”

At this time, Luther jumped into the conversation. He wiped his eyes, and with a trembling voice said, “Lady Layla, must you leave so soon? Please visit often!”

Layla chuckled at his antics and gave him a light smile. “I’ll try to visit when I can, Luther.”

Rowan, however, wasn’t as entertained. He shot Luther a disdainful glance, clearly unimpressed by the theatrics. For his part, Silas exchanged an amused look with Dean, who stood quietly nearby, his usual calm demeanour unfazed by the scene.

As they neared the entrance, the heavy doors to the side swung open, revealing Salma dressed for travel. She smiled warmly and stepped inside to say her goodbyes.

“I’m headed out today as well,” Salma said. “I just wanted to thank you, Countess, for your hospitality.”

Countess Elara returned the smile. “Safe travels, Salma. Do come back and visit us when you have the chance.”

Before Salma could leave, Dean approached her, his expression serious. “Salma, before Ariyeh Dam died, he mentioned something concerning. He said there was a grafter hiding out in the Great Golden Desert. If possible, I’d like you to see if you can learn anything about him while you’re out there.”

“A grafter?” Silas overheard and stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “What’s a grafter?”

Dean glanced at Silas before answering. “Grafters are followers of the Goddess Hecate - a goddess of witchcraft. They hail mostly from Theron, and their abilities... well, let’s just say they aren’t exactly pleasant. They... mess with people, in ways you don’t want to imagine. Changing faces, swapping souls, it’s witchcraft of the worst kind.”

Silas frowned, absorbing the information. “And you think one of them is in the desert?”

Dean nodded. “That’s what Ariyeh believed. I’m concerned that if this grafter is involved in anything big, it could mean trouble for Ironvale down the road. I want to be prepared.”

Salma nodded in understanding. “I’ll see what I can find out. If this grafter is out there, I’ll get the information to you as soon as possible.”

With that, Salma bade them all farewell, her departure swift as she prepared for her own journey out of the city. Silas, Rowan, and Layla, accompanied by Trickster and Goldie, left with her, leaving the Countess’s manor behind them.

As they stepped into the busy streets of Ironvale, the marketplace stretched out before them—vibrant, chaotic, and full of life. Salma parted ways with them not long after, waving as she disappeared into the crowd, intent on her own preparations for the journey ahead.

The marketplace was a hub of activity. Stalls stretched as far as the eye could see, filled with everything from spices and silks to exotic goods from Solara. The scent of incense and the hum of conversation filled the air as traders and buyers haggled over prices.

“We need a ritual chalice, essence crystals, sacred incense, ceremonial robes, and much more,” Silas said as they walked, scanning the market stalls. “Let’s see what we can find.”

It didn’t take long for them to find some of the materials they needed. A vendor specialising in mystical artefacts sold essence crystals in various hues, while another stall offered ceremonial robes adorned with intricate patterns and symbols. They even managed to find the sacred incense they needed from a merchant with ties to Solara.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“This place is even better than Temptshire,” Silas remarked as they paid for the incense. “Must be because of all the traders from Solara. You can find anything here.”

Rowan nodded, holding up a smooth Elemental Crystal. “Yeah, we did get quite a lot of stuff, at least Layla can afford it, cause she’s rich.”

Layla just gave him a side eye and continued walking.

As they continued walking through the crowded market, a man dressed in modest robes approached them. He was distributing small pieces of parchment to passersby, and when he spotted them, he smiled and extended one to Rowan.

Rowan took it, his brow furrowing. “What’s this for?”

The man’s smile remained serene. “I am a follower of God Wōden, the God of Wisdom and Knowledge. Our high priest has received a decree from the God himself, instructing us to find the prophesied ones.”

Layla’s face twisted in confusion. “Prophesied ones? What does that have to do with us?”

The man’s eyes sparkled with a mysterious light. “The prophesied ones are those destined to complete a noble quest. If they seek guidance or aid, the high priest urges them to visit our temple in Norrgard.”

Rowan and Layla exchanged puzzled looks, but the man wasn’t finished. “There is also a reward,” he added, his smile widening. “One thousand gold Grand Era coins for a solid lead on any of the prophesied ones.”

Silas's eyes widened. “A thousand coins? That’s no pocket change.” He glanced at Rowan and Layla, eyebrows raised. “But who are these 'prophesied ones' supposed to be?”

The man’s response was cryptic. “As I said, they are the ones who shall finish a noble quest.”

Before they could ask more, the man bowed his head and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving the three of them with more questions than answers.

Layla crossed her arms, frowning. “What was that all about?”

Rowan frowned as the man slipped away, vanishing into the bustling marketplace crowd. The brief exchange left them all with an unsettling sense of uncertainty. He handed the parchment to Silas, who unfolded it to reveal an elegant black ink script.

The message was short but carried weight:

‘To the Prophesied Ones,

Chaos stirs, and its grasp will tighten unless the nine fated ones rise.

Only together can they bind the winds of change and stem the tides of ruin.

God Wōden, in his wisdom, offers guidance and aid in your noble quest.

Seek his temple in Norrgard, and the path may be revealed to you.’

Silas raised an eyebrow as he read it aloud. “The nine fated ones? And a noble quest? What the hell? Sounds like a sketchy God to me.”

Layla leaned over his shoulder to glance at the parchment, her eyes lit in contemplation.

“Yeah... Does seem pretty far-fetched and cryptic.”

Rowan, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly spoke up, his tone thoughtful. “Wōden... He’s not just some obscure god. There are quite a few people in Amberfell who worship him as the God of Wisdom and Knowledge. But in Frostheim, Wōden is revered as Odin, the God of War.

He’s a major deity there, and his followers can be... fanatical.”

“Fanatical? How so?” Layla asked, her curiosity rising.

“I think they call him a truthful God. But they also slander many others as malicious bloodsuckers, so I don’t know,” Rowan chuckled and said in amusement.

“Well... Both the God and his followers seem like trouble,” Silas said thoughtfully.

“Yeah... I’ve met some of his worshippers before, back in Arncliffe, that’s where I learned about this God,” Rowan replied.

“Arnscliffe?” Silas glanced at him. “That’s the trade city on the northern edge of Amberfell, right?”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah. It’s the closest place to Frostheim, which lies beyond the sea. You get all sorts of travellers from there. Merchants, warriors... and some priests. They were... intense. Always talking about how Wōden, or Odin, was the only god worth following because he offered truth through battle and wisdom through hardship.” He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I got into a few heated debates with them when I was staying there. They don’t really take kindly to anyone doubting their god's wisdom. I’d say it’s best if we don’t get tangled up with any gods—or their followers.”

Silas nodded in agreement.

As they continued their search for the remaining ritual materials, the cryptic message from the priest faded into the background, though it stayed with them, quietly simmering under the surface of their thoughts.

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As evening descended, the marketplace took on a different kind of life. Lanterns hung from the stalls, glowing warmly over the bustling streets. The scent of roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and exotic dishes from Solara filled the air. Silas, Rowan, and Layla sat at a makeshift wooden table near one of the food stalls, enjoying a simple but hearty meal. Trickster coiled lazily at their feet while Goldie happily chewed on scraps handed down by Layla.

“Finally done spending money,” Rowan said, leaning back in his chair and stretching. “I can’t wait to get some real rest.”

“You didn’t spend anything,” Layla rolled her eyes, her voice weary. “Though, I could use some rest as well.”

Silas, chewing on a piece of grilled meat, nodded thoughtfully. “We’ve earned it. But we should figure out what’s next for tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan?” Layla leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Well,” Silas began, setting his fork down, “we’ve got everything we could get for the ceremony. So how about we leave Ironvale tomorrow? Head back to Amberheart, report our success, and call it a victory.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like we’re almost done.”

Silas smiled. “You both would be. After this trial, you’re set for the next two, maybe two and a half years. All you’d have to do is work on your skills and get ready for what comes next.”

Layla leaned forward, her interest piqued. “So, we head back to Amberheart, then what? Just relax?”

“Not exactly,” Silas replied. “I was thinking... along the way, we can stop by some of the major towns. You still need to collect materials for your Elemental Bond ceremony, right?”

Layla’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “That’s true. We didn’t find everything here in Ironvale.”

Rowan nodded thoughtfully. “Hitting the major towns along the way isn’t a bad idea. We’ll need to pass through a few of them anyway. We could pick up what Layla needs.”

“Exactly,” Silas said, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Besides, the Elemental Bond ceremony? It’s not the kind of thing you want to do a half-ass job at.”

Layla chuckled, appreciating the thought. “Alright, I’m in. We’ll secure what I need and then head back to Amberheart. It’s a solid plan.”

Rowan leaned back, grinning. “Finally, a straightforward plan I can get behind.”

With the plan set, the three of them finished their meal, the conversation drifting into lighter topics. The weight of the day began to lift, and soon enough, they all felt a sense of closure. The trial was behind them, and the path ahead, while uncertain, was manageable.

As the last of the marketplace's lanterns flickered, casting long shadows, they gathered their things. Layla glanced toward her inn, stifling a yawn. “I’ll head to mine.” The weariness in her voice was mirrored in the slow, tired movements of the crowd.

“Yeah,” Silas replied. “We’ll fetch the horses and leave early.”

“Sounds good.” Layla gave a small wave before turning and heading down the street toward her inn. Trickster slithered at her heels, his small form barely noticeable in the dim light. Goldie padded along with Trickster by his side.

Rowan watched her go before turning to Silas. “Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow’s another long day.”

Silas nodded. They both made their way toward their own inn, the night air cooling as the marketplace behind them gradually quieted.

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

The next morning came quickly, the soft light of dawn breaking over Ironvale. The streets were already starting to fill with merchants setting up their stalls as the city came alive once again. Silas and Rowan, now rested, met Layla at the stables, where their horses had been kept all these days.

“Ready to head out?” Silas asked as he adjusted his saddle.

Layla nodded, stroking Trickster’s head as he curled around her arm. Goldie, as usual, sat perched atop Rowan’s horse, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Azolith is our first stop, right?” Rowan asked, double-checking his bags as he mounted his horse.

“Yep,” Silas replied, “It’s another big city, so it should be a good place to look for more of those materials. We’ll head there first and work our way back to Amberheart.”

Layla mounted her own horse, her morningstar hanging securely at her side. “I’ve heard Azolith’s got some great smiths and traders. We might find something interesting.”

Rowan smiled. “Yeah. You won't be disappointed.”

With everything packed and ready, they urged their horses forward, leaving the stable behind and leaving Ironvale. The sun climbed higher in the sky as they rode along the well-travelled road, heading towards Azolith—the next step in their journey, with Amberheart in sight beyond it.