Kaelen stepped out of the tavern into the bustling streets of Ashenhold, the scent of spices and the chatter of merchants filling the air. Vessira, perched on his shoulder, pressed her tiny fingers to her temple, concentrating. "Alright, let me think... there should be a decent inn nearby. Give me a moment."

Kaelen glanced around, watching the city come alive under the setting sun. The sandstone buildings glowed in the golden light, and the streets were still busy with traders closing their stalls and people hurrying to finish their business before nightfall.

"I've got it!" Vessira chirped, breaking his train of thought. "There's a place not far from here. Cozy, cheap, and it's got good beds. Follow me." She pointed down a narrow street, and Kaelen began walking in that direction.

As they walked, Vessira chatted about the different inns she remembered from her time exploring cities. "You know, sometimes I miss staying in a real bed. Being small and traveling light is fun and all, but there's something nice about sinking into a warm bed with an actual pillow." She hovered above his shoulder, fluttering slightly as she stretched her wings.

Kaelen smirked. "Guess you get tired of perching on people's heads, huh?"

She laughed. "It's not so bad. Though you do toss and turn a lot in your sleep."

Kaelen shook his head in amusement. "Thanks for the feedback."

After a few minutes, they reached a quaint, three-story inn tucked away between two larger buildings. A wooden sign swung gently above the entrance, painted with the name "The Resting Sand." The faint glow of lanterns from the windows cast a warm, inviting light onto the street.

"Here it is," Vessira announced. "Let's go in before all the good rooms are taken."

Kaelen pushed open the door and stepped inside. The inn was cozy, with polished wooden floors, a crackling fireplace, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. A few travelers sat at tables, sharing quiet conversations over mugs of something warm.

He walked up to the counter, where the innkeeper, a middle-aged man with a welcoming smile, greeted him. "Looking for a room, lad?"

Kaelen nodded. "Yeah, one room for the night."

The innkeeper eyed him briefly, noting the armor and weapons. "That'll be five silvers. Includes breakfast in the morning."

Kaelen counted out the coins, handing them over. "Thanks."

The innkeeper gave him a key. "Room's upstairs, second door on the left."

Vessira floated next to him as they headed for the stairs. "This place seems nice. A little quiet, but that's not so bad."

Kaelen hummed in agreement as they made their way to the room. Once inside, Kaelen dropped his pack by the bed and sat down, feeling the weight of the day's journey settle into his bones.

Vessira, still hovering, looked around the modest but comfortable room. "Not bad at all. I'll take the pillow corner," she joked before landing lightly on the edge of the bed.

Kaelen smiled and stretched out. "This'll do for tonight. Tomorrow, we figure out what's next."

As the night grew darker outside, the warm and quiet atmosphere of the inn felt like a peaceful haven after the long journey and battles. Kaelen leaned back, closing his eyes, already feeling the pull of sleep after such a long day. Vessira settled down next to him, her small form curling up as she yawned.

"Goodnight, Kaelen," she whispered, her voice soft and relaxed.

"Goodnight, Vessira," Kaelen replied quietly, drifting into much-needed rest.

Kaelen awoke the next morning, groggy and still heavy with sleep. He rubbed the debris from his eyes, blinking as the morning light streamed into the room. His first instinct was to check on Vessira, but when he glanced over, she wasn’t in her usual spot.

Confused, he turned his gaze toward the window and spotted her small form perched on the windowsill, staring out at the bustling city below. The early sunlight bathed her in a soft glow as she quietly watched the streets come to life.

"You're up early," Kaelen muttered, his voice still rough from sleep.

Vessira turned slightly, her wings fluttering just a little as she kept her eyes on the city. “Couldn't sleep much. There's something peaceful about watching a city wake up. It’s so different from the desert. So much movement, so many people, all with places to be.”

Kaelen sat up, stretching his arms and feeling the stiffness in his muscles from the previous day's journey. “You don’t miss the desert, do you?”

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Vessira chuckled softly. “Sometimes. But cities have their own charm.” She glanced back at him with a mischievous grin. "Besides, we're here now. Time to see what this city has to offer, right?"

Kaelen smiled, pushing himself out of bed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Let’s see what Ashenhold has in store for us today."

Kaelen and Vessira headed downstairs, the smell of breakfast filling the air. They took a seat at a table and were served bacon, eggs, and a few slices of fruit. After finishing their meal, they left the inn and began wandering through the city streets, taking in the sights and sounds as they looked for anything of interest.

As they strolled, Vessira glanced at Kaelen’s attire and raised an eyebrow. "Kaelen, why don’t you get some proper armor for your arms? All you’ve got is that chest piece and those gloves."

Kaelen looked down at the black gambeson covering his arms, flexing them slightly. “You think I need more?”

Vessira nodded. "Yeah, you never know when someone’s gonna come at you from the side. A little extra protection wouldn’t hurt, right?"

Kaelen scratched the back of his head, considering it. "Alright, alright. Let’s find a blacksmith then. Maybe I’ll get something that keeps me from looking like I’m half-dressed for battle."

They wandered through the city streets until they came upon a shop with a sign hanging above the door—a simple image of an anvil and hammer, no words needed. Kaelen smiled to himself, recognizing the universal symbol. Even he knew what that meant.

"This looks like the place," he said, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Kaelen walked into the shop, greeted by the familiar scent of fire and the rhythmic clang of hammers on metal. The sounds of the forge reminded him of the mine. As he took in the surroundings, a figure emerged from the back room to greet him.

The man had long, curved horns that swept back from his forehead, giving him an imposing presence. His dark skin glistened with sweat, and his toned muscles spoke of years spent perfecting his craft at the forge. His long black dreadlocks were tied back neatly, keeping them away from his face as he worked.

"Welcome," the smith said, his voice deep and calm. "What can I do for you today?"

Kaelen looked up at the towering man, whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. He raised his unarmored arms. "I need some armor to cover my arms," he said, letting them fall back to his sides before adding, "And maybe some tips on maintaining my weapons."

The man chuckled softly, his deep voice resonating in the room. "I'm Dravos, the head smith," he said, extending a large hand. "And you are?"

Kaelen grasped Dravos’ hand, returning the firm handshake. "I'm Kaelen, and this is Vessira," he said, nodding toward the small fae on his shoulder. "We're wanderers."

Dravos looked confused for a second and then smiled."Hah, I took you for a sellsword, but I guess that wouldn't make sense, sand fae don't just follow anyone around."

Kaelen just nodded, refocusing. "Now, back on topic, I need some armor for my arms."

Dravos gave a nod, then bellowed toward the back of the smithy. "Take his measurements! We don't have anything off the shelf that fits him—he's too big."

Kaelen blinked in surprise, glancing at the massive smith towering over him. Dravos was easily taller than the giant zombies Kaelen had faced in the trial, yet even he didn't stock armor for larger people?

Noticing Kaelen's shock, Dravos let out a hearty laugh. "It's not you, rest assured. Most of the city's folk are from smaller races. Even most Sandwalkers aren't nearly your size."

Kaelen seemed to understand. "I guess that makes sense. Now, about maintaining—" He stopped mid-sentence as a sudden breeze rushed past him. Instinctively, he thrust his hand forward just as an arrow pierced through it. He winced at the pain but quickly turned to see a dark figure retreating, realizing they had failed in their attempt.

"What the hell was that?!" Kaelen yelled, clutching his injured hand. Dravos sighed and walked around to inspect it. "They were likely after me," he said, his tone steady. "I turned down some lord who wanted me to work for him, and ever since, assassins have been targeting me. I can mostly handle myself, but he's been sending stronger and stronger assassins each time one fails."

Kaelen snapped the head off the arrow and pulled it from his hand. He opened his pack and downed one of the rejuvenating elixirs he had received from the trial. Almost instantly, the wound began to close, but he noticed the gaping hole left in one of his gauntlets. "Looks like I’ll need some new gauntlets as well," he muttered, assessing the damage.

Dravos laughed at his reaction to an arrow in the hand. "Come with me you saved my life I'll make you some new equipment on the house."

Kaelen followed Dravos to the back of the shop, where the smith began measuring his arms and hands. "So, who is this lord you turned down? Is there any way to get him to stop?" Dravos sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I doubt it. He's a greedy bastard who always gets what he wants. The moment someone turns him down, he vows to destroy everything they've built."

Kaelen adopted a sympathetic expression. "Damn, that sounds rough. I’d help if there was anyway." Dravos smiled slightly. "The only real solution in this situation would be to kill the man. It'd do the world a favor, but it would also get you hung."

Kaelen laughed. "Well, who is this lord anyway? What's his name?" Dravos looked down before speaking. "Lord Blacktongue. No one knows his real name. He's a Drakewarden—a strong one at that. No one dares to oppose him because he’s not only powerful but also closely aligned with the king."

Kaelen looked confused, understanding most of what Dravos had said but puzzled by one term. "Drakewarden? What's that?" The man looked shocked for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You must have just left the nest! Drakewardens are knights appointed by the king who have formed a pact with a wyvern, granting them draconic abilities. They're incredibly difficult to take down and are worth an entire army on their own."

"Sounds like a lot to deal with, but why does a man with such powerful connections and plenty of money to spare need with you, he could probably get plenty of great smiths at the wave of a hand."

Dravos looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. "That's what I would like to know as well. I suspect he's up to something, but I have no idea what it could be. There are even whispers that he might be aiming to usurp the throne. But who knows? Politics are strange."

Kaelen finished getting his measurements taken and stepped outside, deep in thought. He couldn’t shake the story from his mind. What could a man as powerful as Blacktounge want with Dravos? It all seemed too strange, and Kaelen felt an undeniable intrigue. While he knew he couldn't hope to defeat Blacktounge just yet, his curiosity was piqued. He began formulating a plan to look into it further.