Kaelen slept peacefully, his body finally finding rest after the long journey, but his peace was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. He jolted awake, watching as Vessira, who had been resting on his chest, tumbled off and onto the bed.

With a small poke, Kaelen roused the tiny woman. "Wake up," he muttered before stretching and stepping out of bed, the stiffness in his muscles easing slightly.

"Come in," he called out, his voice still groggy.

The door clicked open, revealing Kalivara standing in the doorway. Kaelen hadn't interacted with her much, but from what he had observed, she seemed capable and sharp. Her presence caught him slightly off-guard, but he masked his surprise with a polite nod.

Kalivara crossed her arms, eyeing him briefly before speaking. "We're gathering to discuss our next move. Zharaith thought you might want to join."

Kaelen ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. "I'll be there," he replied, stepping toward the door. Kalivara gave a curt nod and turned to leave, her steps firm and deliberate.

Vessira groggily floated up from the bed, rubbing her eyes. "That was sudden... what's going on?"

Kaelen shrugged. "Guess we'll find out soon enough." He glanced back at the bed for a moment, then followed Kalivara out the door, feeling the weight of his next challenge already settling on his shoulders.

Kaelen twisted his body, feeling the satisfying pops ripple through his joints. Standing in the center of the bustling village, he took in the scene before him. Zharaith was barking orders, her voice clear and commanding as gnolls scurried around, hauling chests of equipment and rounding up bighorns. Kaelen watched with mild curiosity as the large, domesticated creatures were harnessed and attached to carts.

How he'd missed the bighorns before was a mystery to him, but now that he noticed them, the sight was oddly captivating. There was something about the organized chaos of the scene—the gnolls preparing for their journey, the bighorns obediently moving into place—that caught his attention. It reminded him of how different this life was compared to the desert mining camps he'd known.

Kaelen approached Zharaith just as she finished organizing the last of the carts for their trek through the desert. She turned to him with a grin. "Ah, Kaelen, you're here. Are you coming with us to Ashenhold?"

Kaelen glanced around at the well-formed caravan, the bighorns ready, the gnolls prepped for the journey. "Well, I don't see why not," he replied with a slight smile. "I've always wanted to see a big city. Plus, I can hopefully finally make some money."

Zharaith chuckled. "Good. You might find more than just money in Ashenhold."

Kaelen nodded, not entirely sure what Zharaith meant, but he joined the rest of the caravan without questioning it further. As they started moving, Zharaith walked alongside him, explaining the journey ahead. "The trek to Ashenhold will take us about three days, assuming we don't run into any trouble," she said, her tone steady. "We'll stop by an oasis halfway through, but other than that, it'll be nothing but sand and sun."

Kaelen listened carefully, his eyes scanning the horizon, ready for the long journey ahead.

They started their trek through the vast desert, Kaelen walking steadily with Vessira perched on his shoulder. She chatted excitedly about Ashenhold, painting vivid pictures of the grand buildings, the bustling markets, and the mouthwatering food. "You'll love it," she chirped. "The shops alone are incredible—you can find just about anything there!"

Kaelen listened with a small smile, appreciating the distraction from the endless dunes stretching out before them. Despite the long journey ahead, Vessira's enthusiasm made him curious about the city.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The journey to Ashenhold was long and arduous, the unrelenting sun casting a harsh glow over the endless stretch of golden dunes. The caravan moved steadily, the bighorns plodding along with calm, practiced steps, their hooves kicking up small clouds of dust as they trudged through the sand. Kaelen kept pace alongside Zharaith, listening as Vessira continued her never-ending monologue about the wonders of Ashenhold.

The first few days passed uneventfully. Kaelen quickly adapted to the rhythm of travel, occasionally lending a hand with the carts and bighorns. The nights were cold and quiet, with only the crackle of campfires and the murmur of gnolls to break the silence. Zharaith was often busy overseeing the camp, making sure supplies were rationed properly and everyone was prepared for what lay ahead.

On the third day, the caravan arrived at a small oasis. It was a welcome reprieve from the desert's scorching heat. The water shimmered invitingly, and the gnolls, along with Kaelen, eagerly took the opportunity to refill their water skins and rest. Kaelen leaned against a palm tree, his armor damp from a quick wash in the cool water, enjoying the rare moment of peace. Vessira had flown off to enjoy the small patch of greenery, her laughter occasionally echoing through the palms.

"Enjoy the break while you can," Zharaith said, standing beside him. "The desert may seem empty, but it's full of dangers. Bandits, creatures… they often wait until you're lulled into a false sense of security."

Kaelen nodded but kept his guard relaxed, still savoring the calm.

After a few more hours of rest, the caravan moved on. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the dunes, something felt different. Kaelen couldn't shake the uneasy sensation crawling up his spine. Vessira, now back on his shoulder, seemed quieter than usual, her gaze darting around as if she too sensed something.

Suddenly, Zharaith raised her hand, signaling for the caravan to halt. Her sharp eyes scanned the surrounding dunes, narrowing suspiciously.

"Prepare yourselves," she muttered to Kaelen. "I have a bad feeling."

Moments later, from behind a dune, a group of bandits emerged, their faces masked, weapons drawn. There were at least a dozen of them, and they moved with the confidence of seasoned marauders.

"Well, well," one of the bandits sneered, "looks like we've caught ourselves a nice little caravan."

Zharaith sighed, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword. "You'd think they'd learn after a few decades." She turned to Kaelen. "Try to keep a few of them alive. Bounties can pay well, and Ashenhold has a few criminals they'd like back in chains."

Kaelen gave a quick nod and drew his sword, the cool weight familiar in his hands. The bandits spread out, clearly aiming to surround the caravan. Kaelen kept his stance firm, waiting for the right moment. Then, without warning, the bandits charged.

Kaelen met the first of them head-on. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the desert as he parried a strike and countered with a brutal swing, knocking the bandit off his feet. Vessira zipped off his shoulder, hovering nearby as she watched the chaos unfold.

The gnolls, well-prepared and used to desert ambushes, quickly rallied to defend the caravan. Zharaith cut through the attackers with precise, deadly strikes, her movements fluid and graceful, leaving bandits crumpled in her wake.

Kaelen focused on holding back, not delivering any killing blows unless absolutely necessary. He slammed the hilt of his sword into one bandit's temple, sending him sprawling, dazed but alive. Another came at him with a dagger, but Kaelen sidestepped the attack, sweeping the bandit's legs out from under him before driving the flat of his blade into the man's gut, knocking the wind out of him.

One of the more skilled bandits, wielding a curved scimitar, darted forward. Kaelen blocked the attack, their swords locking together. He gritted his teeth as the bandit pushed against him, trying to overpower him. For a moment, they were locked in a battle of strength, their faces inches apart, the bandit grinning wickedly. Kaelen shifted his weight and shoved the bandit back, throwing him off balance, before delivering a swift punch to the bandit's face, knocking him unconscious.

Kaelen glanced over at Zharaith, who had already incapacitated several bandits. "Remember," she called out, "we need some of them alive."

He took a deep breath, refocusing his efforts on disabling rather than killing. As another bandit lunged toward him, Kaelen ducked low, sweeping his leg under the attacker and sending him crashing to the ground. He pressed the tip of his sword to the man's throat, holding him there without striking the final blow.

The remaining bandits, seeing their comrades either incapacitated or fleeing, quickly lost their nerve and retreated, disappearing over the dunes as fast as they had appeared.

Kaelen stood over the unconscious and groaning bandits that lay strewn across the sand. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his sword.

Zharaith approached, her expression satisfied. "Good work," she said. "We'll tie these ones up and bring them to Ashenhold. The bounties on their heads will make this trip worth it."

Kaelen gave a slight nod, still catching his breath. "At least we'll get something out of this."

Zharaith smiled. "Exactly. Now, let's get moving. We've still got a long way to go before we reach the city."