The wind carried the scent of spring, warm and alive, but Ebony’s mind was far from the season’s ease.

Ebony paused on a small hill, taking in the familiar sight of the domain.

Dimito, The towering pyramid Kingdom. The shaped kingdom, with its castles and palaces reaching for the sky, shimmered in the warm spring air. It was a scene etched in his memory, a reminder of the life he had once known.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he recalled the day he was banished. He had stood on this very hill, a young and rebellious prince, watching his home fade into the distance. He had been alone then, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a heart full of uncertainty.

But now, as he gazed at Dimito once more, he was a different person. He had grown, matured, and found a new home, a new family. He was no longer the lost and lonely prince. He was a Shaolin monk, a warrior. And he had returned to Dimito not as a beggar seeking refuge, but as a hero on a mission to save the people he cared about.

It was a sight that had haunted his dreams and fueled his resolve. Now, standing here again, he felt the weight of time pressing down on him—not as a burden, but as a reminder of how far he had come.

But the monastery had found him. The monks had seen something in him that he hadn’t even seen in himself. They had given him a home, a family, and a purpose.

They had taught him that strength was not just in the body but in the spirit, that music could be as powerful as a sword, and that true power came from understanding oneself.

Now, as he stood on this hill, he was no longer that lost prince. He was Ebony Gundo, a Shaolin monk, a warrior,. He had walked through fire and emerged tempered, his resolve unshakable. The kingdom before him might not recognize him, but he knew who he was. And he knew why he had returned.

The war looming on the horizon was not just a threat to the monastery; it was a test of everything he had become. The monks had given him a second chance at life, and now it was his turn to give them a chance at survival. He would take on every quest, face every challenge, and do whatever it took to secure the funds they needed. He would not falter. He would not fail.

Ebony dismounted, his boots sinking into the soft earth. He began his Shaolin exercises, his movements deliberate, each one a meditation, a reaffirmation of his purpose.

With every strike, every fluid motion, he felt the doubts and fears of the past fall away. He was not here to reclaim his old life. He was here to protect the new one he had built, the one that had given him meaning.

I am here, he declared silently, his whispering voice echoing in the stillness of his mind.

“I know my purpose. I will complete my quest, I will not be swayed by pity or threats. I will bring aid to my people.”

I will play and become the character I need to be. And when this is over, they will know that Ebony Gundo did not return to reclaim a throne. He returned to protect a family.*

He paused, his breath misting in the cool morning air. The city before him was a fortress of memories, both bitter and sweet, but he would not let them define him. He would not pretend to be the prince they had cast out.

He would become the man they needed him to be—strong, resilient, unwavering. He would embody the ideals of the monastery, the lessons of his mentors, and the strength of his own spirit.

With a final, deep breath, he finished his exercises, his body and mind aligned, his resolve unshakable.

He mounted his horse, his gaze fixed on the city gates. The road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but he was ready. He had been preparing for this moment his entire life.

He finished his exercises, his body and mind aligned. With a deep breath and a confident smile, he mounted his horse and rode towards the city gates, ready to face whatever challenges awaited him within Dimito's walls.

Ebony joined the queue at the city gates, the line snaking through the outer courtyard. Merchants, travelers, and common folk alike waited their turn, their faces a mix of impatience and anticipation. The entry fee, a hefty 800 pearls, was clearly a barrier for some, but most seemed resigned to the cost.

Ebony scanned the crowd, noting the three entry points, each with its own designated line. He sighed, settling in for the long wait. He pulled out his coin pouch and began counting, the familiar weight of the pearls a comforting reminder of his hard-earned savings.

Even though he had more than enough to cover the entrance fee, the number 800 still echoed in his mind, a symbol of the exorbitant cost of living in Dimito. "Goodness," he muttered under his breath, "This place is going to drain my funds faster than sand through my fingers.”

Ebony stood at the edge of the bustling road leading to Dimito’s gates, his sharp eyes scanning the scene before him. The city had always been a place of contrasts—a glittering jewel atop a mountain of struggle—but the changes since his last visit were impossible to ignore.

The line of people waiting to enter the city was a tapestry of wealth and privilege, their fine clothes and ornate carriages a stark reminder of the divide between those who thrived within the walls and those who languished outside.

He noted the way the sunlight caught on the gold embroidery of a noblewoman’s gown, the way the polished wood of a merchant’s carriage gleamed as if it had never known dust or wear.

Even the horses seemed to carry themselves with an air of superiority, their coats brushed to a sheen, their harnesses adorned with silver and jewels. Ebony’s lips twitched in a faint, wry smile.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” he thought. Dimito had always been a city of excess, a place where the wealthy flaunted their status while the rest scraped by.

His gaze shifted to a group of guards escorting a particularly lavish carriage. The vehicle was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its velvet curtains drawn tight to shield its occupants from prying eyes.

Ebony couldn’t help but wonder who sat inside—a high-ranking official, perhaps, or a visiting dignitary. Whoever it was, they were clearly someone of importance, someone who commanded the kind of respect that came with power and influence. The guards themselves moved with precision and discipline, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. Ebony respected their professionalism, even as he questioned the system they served.

Beyond the city walls, the landscape had transformed. What had once been open fields and scattered farms was now a sprawling settlement, a patchwork of tents, makeshift stalls, and ramshackle homes.

This was the domain of the common folk, the merchants and laborers who couldn’t afford the steep entry fee into the city. Ebony observed them with a mix of admiration and sorrow. They were resourceful, these people, carving out a life for themselves in the shadow of the city’s opulence.

Children darted between the stalls, their laughter ringing out like music, while merchants called out to passersby, their voices a cacophony of hope and desperation.

Despite their hardships, there was a sense of community here, a resilience that spoke to the strength of the human spirit. Ebony felt a pang of empathy for them.

They were not so different from the monks at the monastery, who had taught him that true wealth lay not in gold or finery, but in the bonds of kinship and the courage to endure. He made a silent promise to himself: when the time came, he would do what he could to help these people, to ensure that their struggles were not in vain.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over the ground, and Ebony looked up to see a formation of Pegasus Knights soaring overhead. The sight took his breath away. The knights were a vision of grace and power, their white and navy blue armor gleaming in the sunlight, their Pegasus mounts moving with a fluidity that defied the laws of nature.

Each Pegasus carried two riders—a spearman and an archer—their combined skills making them a force to be reckoned with. Ebony had heard tales of their exploits, of their bravery in battle and their unwavering loyalty to the kingdom. Seeing them now, he felt a surge of pride, a reminder that even in a place as flawed as Dimito, there were still those who fought for what was right.

“Good to know they’re still around,” Ebony murmured, his voice tinged with a quiet reverence.

The Pegasus Knights were more than just soldiers; they were a symbol of hope, a testament to the strength and dedication of those who served the kingdom. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it might be like to fight alongside them, to share in their camaraderie and purpose.

But then the moment passed, and he was once again grounded in the reality of his mission. Ebony’s resolve hardened as he turned his gaze back to the city gates.

With a deep breath, Ebony adjusted the strap of his lute and took a step forward, his boots crunching against the gravel path. The city loomed before him.

Ebony rode through the imposing gates of Dimito, his horse's hooves clattering against the worn cobblestones.

He approached the toll booth, where a guard slouched in his chair, looking bored and disheveled.

"Welcome," the guard mumbled, extending a hand. "That'll be 800 pearls."

Ebony dismounted with a flourish, his lute slung over his shoulder.

Ebony, drawing on his bardic charm, launched into a theatrical introduction. "Greetings, good sir! I am Ebony Gundo, a humble bard and adventurer and storyteller, here to seek my fortune and bring joy to the kingdom with my melodious tunes and daring exploits.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of you," he said dryly.

Ebony's grin widened. "Ah, my good man, that's precisely why I'm here! To ensure that my name becomes as familiar to you as the sound of your own voice."

The guard snorted. "Yeah, sure. Look, buddy, I don't care if you're the greatest bard in the world or just some guy who found a lute in a ditch. Eight hundred pearls. Pay up or turn around."

Ebony chuckled, dropping the pearls into the guard's hand. "Consider this an investment, my friend. One day, you'll look back and say, 'I knew him before he was famous.'"

"Uh-huh," the guard said, counting the pearls. "And what makes you so sure you're gonna be famous?"

Ebony leaned in conspiratorially. "I've got charisma. And a knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Just last week, I convinced a pack of wolves to form a choir."

The guard stared at him, then shook his head. "You're either delusional or drunk."

"Why not both?" Ebony quipped, winking as he mounted his horse. "Mark my words, my friend. Before long, you'll be hearing my name everywhere.

Ebony Gundo—bard, adventurer, and soon-to-be legend."

The guard rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't cause any trouble, 'legend.'

"Trouble? Me? Ebony laughed, "I'll. give you a heads up before that happens, but I digress. "I'm here to bring joy!"

Ebony tipped an imaginary hat as he rode past, his laughter echoing through the gates.

As Ebony disappeared into the city, the guard muttered, "Joy, huh? More like a headache." But a small smile played on his lips.

Ebony rode through the bustling streets of Dimito, the city alive with a cacophony of sounds and a sea of movement. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and the occasional whiff of something less pleasant—likely a nearby stable or an overworked merchant who had skipped their weekly bath.

The Town Square was a hive of activity, teeming with people whose hurried footsteps and lively chatter created a symphony of urban life.

It was even more crowded than Iomud, if such a thing were possible, and Ebony couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of anonymity as he navigated the chaos.

Just as I remember it, he thought, a faint smile playing on his lips. Dimito had always been a city of contradictions—a place where opulence and squalor existed side by side, where the rich and the poor shared the same streets but lived worlds apart.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He wondered how long it would take for someone to recognize him, to point and whisper, “Isn’t that the banished prince?”

But for now, he was just another face in the crowd, a bard with a lute and a horse, blending seamlessly into the vibrant tapestry of the city.

A sudden thought struck him, and he chuckled to himself.

I should have bought a hat.* It was a small thing, perhaps, but details mattered. A hat would complete his bardic look, adding a touch of flair to his already charismatic persona.

He imagined something with a wide brim, maybe a feather or two—something that said, “I’m here to entertain, but don’t underestimate me.”

But hats could wait. For now, he needed to find lodging and settle in. The quest ahead would require preparation, and he wasn’t about to let something as trivial as headwear distract him from the bigger picture.

Still, as he surveyed the crowd, the idea lingered in his mind like a catchy tune he couldn’t shake.

The market was a microcosm of the city itself, a chaotic yet strangely organized display of human endeavor. Merchants haggled over prices with the fervor of seasoned negotiators, their voices rising and falling in a rhythmic dance.

Nobles strolled through the square, their finery a stark contrast to the worn clothes of the common folk who hurried about their daily routines.

Children darted between stalls, their laughter a bright counterpoint to the more serious tones of the adults. It was a scene both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the life he had left behind and the one he had built since.

I might as well get a hat now, Ebony decided, steering his horse toward a nearby market stall. The thought had taken root, and he knew better than to ignore a creative impulse.

Besides, a good hat could be the difference between being remembered as just another bard and becoming a legend.

Ebony dismounted, securing his horse to a nearby post, and approached the stall with a confident stride. The stall was a vibrant explosion of colors and textures, a treasure trove of trinkets and accessories.

The merchant, a wiry man with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a beard that seemed to have a life of its own, greeted him with a wide smile.

"Welcome, welcome, my good sir!" he exclaimed, his voice a booming baritone that echoed through the bustling marketplace.

"What can I do for you today? A fine scarf to adorn your neck? A pair of gloves to protect your hands from the elements? Or perhaps a dazzling jewel to catch the eye of a fair maiden?"

Ebony chuckled, his own charm rivaling the merchant's. "Actually, I'm in the market for a hat. Something bold, something unforgettable. Something that says, 'Here stands a man of talent, taste, and a touch of mystery.'"

The merchant's eyes lit up, and he began rummaging through his wares with the enthusiasm of a treasure hunter unearthing a long-lost relic. "Ah, a man of discerning taste! I have just the thing."

He pulled out a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a single, elegant feather. "This," he declared, holding it aloft, "is the hat of a true adventurer. It's seen its share of journeys, I'll tell you that much."

Ebony took the hat, turning it over in his hands. It was certainly eye-catching, but something about it didn't quite sit right.

"It's a fine hat," he conceded, "but perhaps a bit too... flamboyant for my taste." The merchant, unfazed, simply shrugged.

"No problem, no problem. I have others." He rummaged through his collection once more, pulling out a variety of hats: a simple straw hat, a rugged leather cap, a velvet beret with a jaunty feather. But none of them seemed quite right.

As Ebony pondered his options, he noticed a young mother and her child staring at him with wide, curious eyes. The child, a little girl with pigtails and a gap-toothed grin, tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mommy, look at that man!" she whispered, pointing at Ebony. "He looks like Sir Cole!"

Ebony's heart skipped a beat. He had been recognized. Panic flared within him, but he quickly masked it with a casual smile. "Just a coincidence, I'm sure," he said to the mother, hoping to deflect her attention.

The mother, her expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension, quickly ushered her daughter away, muttering something about "outsiders" and "keeping to themselves."

Ebony breathed a sigh of relief, but the encounter had rattled him. He had hoped to maintain a low profile in Dimito, but it seemed his notoriety had preceded him.

He turned back to the merchant, his earlier enthusiasm for the hat search replaced with a sense of urgency. "You know what," he said, "I'll take any hat you have. I'm not picky."

The merchant, sensing Ebony's sudden shift in mood, nodded. "Very well, good sir. I have a few more in the back. I'll let you browse while I fetch them."

Ebony shook his head. "No, no, this will do." He grabbed a simple brown Archer hat sherwood from a nearby stall. "This one is perfect."

The merchant smiled. "Excellent choice, sir. Come to the counter when you're ready."

Ebony paid for the hat, his mind still racing. He had been recognized, and he knew it was only a matter of time before others noticed him.

He needed to be careful, to stay vigilant. He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself, not when he was on such an important mission.

Just as he was about to leave the stall, a tall, muscular man with a thick blonde beard and piercing blue eyes approached.

He was dressed in fine clothes, his bearing suggesting a noble background. He glanced at Ebony, his eyes lingering on the violin case strapped to his back.

"Another musician, I see," the man remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Ebony, intrigued, turned to face him. "Indeed," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "Though I dabble in other arts as well."

The man chuckled, his eyes twinkling with interest. "Oh? And what other arts would those be?"

Ebony leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The art of bandit-bashing, for one. And the art of charming the socks off unsuspecting merchants, for another."

The man burst out laughing, a deep, booming sound that echoed through the marketplace. "Well met, bard," he said, extending a hand. "I am Lord Elmont, and I believe we'll get along just fine."

Ebony shook his hand, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Ebony Gundo, at your service," he replied. "And I have a feeling you're right."

Ebony leaned forward slightly, his lute resting against his shoulder like an old friend. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and mischief as he addressed Lord Elmont. “My lord,” he began, his voice smooth and tinged with theatrical flair, “I find myself in need of your wisdom.

Could you direct me to this grand Adventurers’ Guild I’ve heard so much about? A place where a man of my talents might find quests worthy of his skills? And, while we’re at it, perhaps you could recommend a suitable lodging where I might rest my weary bones after my long journey? Nothing too extravagant, mind you—just a place where the beds don’t creak and the ale doesn’t taste like regret.”

Lord Elmont regarded him with a raised eyebrow, his expression a blend of amusement and mild exasperation. “The Adventurers’ Guild,” he said, his tone as straightforward as a well-aimed arrow, “is on the north side of town. You’ll find it hard to miss—it’s the building with the sign that says ‘Adventurers’ Guild.’” He paused, his gaze sweeping over Ebony’s lean frame and bardic attire.

“Though, if I may be so bold, you seem a bit… *young* for such a perilous profession. Adventuring isn’t all glory and gold, you know. It’s blisters, bad decisions, and the occasional brush with death.

Perhaps you might consider a less strenuous path? Music, for instance. Far fewer bruises in that line of work.”

Ebony chuckled, the sound warm and unbothered. He adjusted the strap of his lute, his fingers brushing the strings as if to remind himself of its presence. “Fear not, my lord,” he said, his tone light but laced with confidence.

“I may not look the part of a grizzled warrior, but I assure you, I’m more than capable of handling myself in a fight.

Why, just last week, I convinced a pack of bandits to lay down their weapons and join me in a rousing chorus of *The Ballad of the Brave and Foolish.* They’re now my backup singers.”

Lord Elmont’s lips twitched, though whether it was from amusement or disbelief was hard to say. “Bandits, you say? And here I thought you were just a bard with a flair for the dramatic.”

He crossed his arms, his expression softening slightly. “Still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you. The guild isn’t kind to those who bite off more than they can chew. Many a bright-eyed adventurer has walked through those doors, only to be carried out feet-first. Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of life?”

Ebony’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider. “My lord, if I waited until I was *ready,* I’d never leave my bed.

Life is an adventure, and I intend to live it to the fullest. Besides,” he added with a wink, “what’s the point of being young if you don’t do something reckless every now and then?”

Lord Elmont sighed, shaking his head, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Very well,” he said, his tone resigned but not unkind. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. And as for lodging, try the Silver Stag Inn, It's across the street from the adventurers Guild. It’s clean, affordable, and the owner doesn’t ask too many questions. Just don’t mention I sent you—he owes me money.”

Ebony tipped his new hat. “You’re a true gentleman, my lord. I’ll be sure to sing your praises at my next performance. Perhaps I’ll even compose a ballad in your honor—*The Tale of the Wise and Generous Lord Elmont.”

Lord Elmont waved a hand dismissively, though his smile was unmistakable now. “Just try not to get yourself killed, bard. The world could use a few more songs, and far fewer dead fools.”

Ebony, his new hat perched jauntily on his head, rode towards the north side of the city, map in hand. He located the Adventurers' Guild and galloped through the crowded streets.

As he passed the little girl and her mother from the hat stall, the girl recognized him.

"Mommy, look! It's Sir Cole again!" she exclaimed. The mother did not want to assume but he did resemble a younger sir Cole. The mother, hesitant, studied Ebony's face. "I don't know, dear," she replied. "It might not be him."

But the girl insisted, eager for a closer look. The mother, however, pulled her daughter away, disappearing into the crowd.

◇

Ebony rode at a leisurely pace, his horse’s hooves clattering gently against the cobblestones as he soaked in the vibrant energy of the city.

The streets were alive with activity—merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they chased each other, and the rich, mouthwatering aroma of Magyarian peasant fare wafting through the air.

His stomach rumbled in protest, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but he pushed the thought aside. The Adventurers’ Guild was his priority, and he could always indulge in a hearty meal later.

As he passed a particularly lively café, his attention was drawn to the cheerful chatter of patrons enjoying their meals. The tables were packed with people savoring steaming plates of spicy stew, golden pastries, and frothy mugs of ale. It was a scene of pure, uncomplicated joy, and Ebony couldn’t help but smile. His gaze wandered, taking in the lively atmosphere, until it landed on a woman sitting alone at a corner table.

She was unlike anyone else in the café, her presence both striking and serene. Wearing a Burgundy Shirt Off Shoulder Puff Sleeve, With a Chestnut Loose Fit Summer Tops

Her short black hair framed her face in soft waves, and her almond-shaped lips curved into a gentle smile as she sipped from a cup. But it was her bright green eyes that caught Ebony’s attention—they sparkled with a quiet mischief, as if she were in on some delightful secret the rest of the world hadn’t discovered yet.

Her plate was piled high with Magyarian delicacies, and she seemed to be savoring every bite with the kind of enthusiasm that made even the simplest meal look like a feast.

Ebony felt a sudden, inexplicable pull toward her, a lightness in his chest that made him want to smile for no reason at all. Without thinking, he offered her a playful wink and a small wave, his grin as bright as the afternoon sun.

The woman noticed him almost immediately, her eyes widening in surprise before crinkling with amusement.

She tilted her head, considering him for a moment, then responded with a smile so warm it could melt butter. To his delight, she raised her hand to her lips and blew him a playful kiss, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ebony’s heart did a little flip, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself. It was such a small, fleeting moment, but it left him feeling inexplicably buoyant, as if the world had just become a little brighter.

He gave her a mock bow from his saddle, his hat tipping precariously as he did so, before straightening up and continuing on his way. The image of her smile lingered in his mind, a spark of warmth that refused to fade.

As he rode on, he found himself glancing back at the café, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps I’ll visit that café later,” he mused aloud, his voice tinged with a hint of anticipation.

The thought of sharing a meal—or even just a smile—with the mysterious woman added a spring to his step and a lightness to his heart.

For now, though, the Adventurers’ Guild awaited, and Ebony was nothing if not a man with a mission. But as he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but wonder if fate might bring him back to that café—and to her—before the day was through.

Ebony arrived at the Adventurers' Guild, his heart pounding with excitement. He dismounted, secured his horse, and surveyed the bustling scene.

The guildhall was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds, filled with adventurers of all kinds. Ebony, his confidence soaring after his recent victory over the bandits, was eager to prove himself in this new arena.

He yearned to unleash the full extent of his Shaolin training, but he knew he had to maintain a low profile. He couldn't risk exposing his true identity, not when so much was at stake. He would be Deep down, however, doubts lingered.

Could he truly deceive those who had once known him? What if his true identity was exposed?

The consequences could be disastrous. But Ebony pushed those doubts aside. He had come too far to turn back now.

He whispered to himself as a solemn vow to remind himself of “the Temple”. he made a silent vow: no matter the cost, he would see this through.

He would be Ebony Gundo, the bard with a hidden past, a master of martial arts, music, and magic. And if the world never knew the truth of who he was, so be it. Some stories, after all, were meant to be told in shadows.

He stepped through the doors and strolled into the Adventurers' Guild, his eyes taking in the intricate and unique space. It was a blend of greeting hall, gathering hall, and pub, with a bustling atmosphere that hummed with activity. The front desk served as both a bar and a quest hub, a testament to the diverse nature of the establishment.

The guild was a melting pot of adventurers, a vibrant tapestry of backgrounds, cultures, and species. Ebony saw humans of all shapes and sizes, alongside anthropomorphic animals and beings he couldn't even identify. It was a testament to the adventurous spirit that drew individuals from all walks of life.

But Ebony, his focus unwavering, paid little attention to the curious stares and whispered comments that followed him. He was fixated on his mission, his eyes locked on the front desk. He reached the counter, where a woman stood, expertly pouring drinks and handing out quests with a practiced hand.

The woman behind the counter, a seasoned bartender with years of experience, glanced up at Ebony with a bored expression. "What'll it be?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm. "Drink? Food? Bed? What?"

"Actually," Ebony began, his voice smooth and charismatic, "I'm here for adventure. And perhaps a quest or two, if you have any that suit my particular talents. Oh, and do you know where I can find the Silver Stag Inn? I'm looking for a place to rest my weary bones."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "If you're an adventurer, you're already in the right place," she said, gesturing around the room. "This is the Silver Stag Inn and the Adventurers' Guild."

Ebony blinked, confused. "Wait, what? I thought the inn was somewhere else."

"Whoever told you that has clearly never been here before," the bartender replied with a smirk.

Ebony thought back to his conversation with Lord Elmont. "That makes sense," he mused. "He got the name right, but I doubt a noble like him has ever set foot in a place like this."

The bartender, her skepticism evident in the lines etched around her eyes, raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "You're an adventurer, yet you don't have your license?" she questioned, her voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "Perhaps you're not as seasoned as you'd like us to believe."

Ebony, unfazed by her challenge, met her gaze with unwavering confidence.

He paused, then added with a playful wink, "But I appreciate your concern, Miss..."

"Sadler," the bartender supplied.

"Miss Sadler," Ebony continued, his charm in full force.

And while I may not have the weathered look of a seasoned veteran, I possess skills and abilities that might surprise you." He paused, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "But I appreciate your concern nonetheless. It's not every day that a humble bard receives such scrutiny."

Sadler, intrigued by his confident demeanor, leaned forward, her elbows resting on the worn countertop.

"Well then, bard," she said, her voice laced with a hint of challenge, "why don't you enlighten me? What makes you so special? What sets you apart from the countless other adventurers who wander through these doors?"

Ebony, sensing an opportunity to showcase his unique talents, straightened his posture. "I understand your doubts, but I assure you, I have abilities you may find surprising. I possess the strength of a warrior, the intelligence of a wizard, and the speed of an arrow.

I am, as they say, a force to be reckoned with.” "I assure you, Miss Sadler," he began, his voice smooth and steady.

"I am a master of many arts, Miss Sadler," he declared, his voice resonating with a quiet confidence. "I wield both blades and melody with equal skill. I can disarm an opponent with a flick of my wrist or charm a snake with a song. I am, as they say, a jack of all trades and a master of many."

Sadler's skepticism softened, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. "A jack of all trades, you say?" she mused, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "That's a bold claim, bard. But I've learned that those who boast the loudest often have the least to offer."

Ebony, unfazed by her challenge, simply smiled. "Then allow me to prove you wrong, Miss Sadler. Give me a chance to demonstrate my abilities, and I'm confident you'll find me to be a worthy addition to your esteemed guild."

Sadler, recognizing the spark of determination in his eyes, decided to give him a chance. "Very well," she said, her voice softening slightly. "But first, you'll need an adventurer's sheet, and there's a small fee for that. Can you pay?"

Ebony, eager to prove himself, didn't hesitate. "Of course," he replied, reaching for his coin pouch.

"Hold on a moment," Sadler said, disappearing into a back room. She returned with a sheet of parchment and an inkwell filled with a strange, glowing blue liquid. "Now, then..."

Sadler handed Ebony a sheet of parchment, its edges worn and its surface covered in intricate symbols. "This is your Adventurer's Record," she explained.

"It is a magical document that reflects your growth and progress as an adventurer."

She pointed to various sections of the sheet. "Here, you will record your strengths, weaknesses, skills, abilities, triumphs, and defeats. It is a testament to your journey, a reflection of your spirit. Keep it safe, for it is more than just a record. It is a part of you."

Ebony took the sheet, his fingers tracing the strange symbols. He felt a warmth emanating from the parchment. He flipped it over, revealing a grid-like pattern filled with numbers and empty spaces.

"This sheet will track your progress, your health, your very essence," Sadler explained. "You can also add your belongings, armor, weapons, skills, and items. It's all focused on your progression. If you want, most of that stuff is optional.”

"Now, listen," Sadler said, leaning in conspiratorially, "this sheet's gonna stick with you for a while. If you decide to return it, there's a fee, and it's a lot more than what you're paying now. So, no take-backs."

Ebony, his confidence unwavering, grinned. "Don't worry, Sadler. My parents didn't raise a beggar. They raised a bard."

Sadler nodded, naming her price. "That'll be 250 pearl coins."

Ebony handed over the exact amount, letting her count it carefully. She looked up, satisfied. "Okay, then."

Sadler reached for a quill and an inkwell filled with a strange, glowing blue liquid. She signed her name, then handed the quill to Ebony. "Sign here," she instructed, pointing to a line below hers.

Ebony signed his name with a flourish. As he finished, the sheet glowed brightly, etching their names in a mystical blue. The magic was undeniable.

"Magnificent," Ebony breathed, awestruck by the display.

Sadler retrieved a stamp and pressed it into the blue ink. She stamped the sheet, leaving a glowing blue emblem that read "20/20."

"That's your health," she explained. "Don't die. If you do, the sheet burns up with you."

Ebony nodded, taking in the information. "Got it."

Sadler then stamped Ebony's left arm with the same glowing blue emblem. "There," she said. "Now you're officially an adventurer."

Ebony bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Miss Sadler. much appreciated."

Sadler blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unfamiliar gesture. She had never seen anyone bow before, especially not in the Adventurers' Guild.

It was a strange and unexpected display of gratitude, but she couldn't deny the sincerity behind it. A warm feeling spread through her, a sense of appreciation for this unusual young man.

"You're welcome," she replied, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "Now, come with me." Ebony pics of his sheet off the counter and follows.

Sadler gestured towards a stack of parchments. "Those are the available quests," she explained. "Take your pick, and let's see what you're made of. "Let's get you started on your adventuring career."

Ebony approached the parchments, his eyes scanning the various tasks and challenges. He felt a surge of excitement, ready to prove himself as Ebony Gundo, the bard who would make his mark on the world.

No sooner had Sadler stepped away from the desk than a gruff voice bellowed from across the hall, "Waiter! Waiter!"

"Shut up, I'm coming!" Sadler yelled back, rolling her eyes. "Can't leave this desk for a second without someone needing something."

She turned to Ebony, a hint of apology in her voice. "I've got to go take care of some orders. You can browse the quests while I'm gone. Take your time and choose wisely."

With that, she bustled away, leaving Ebony alone with the quest board. He scanned the parchments, his eyes widening with excitement. The quests were varied and intriguing, ranging from simple deliveries to dangerous monster hunts. He felt a surge of anticipation, eager to embark on his first adventure.