Kaelen watched as the captured bandits were tied up and thrown into the carts, their defeated groans filling the air. He fell back into line with the caravan, the slow, steady movement of the group resuming as they pressed on through the desert.

"Damn it," one of the captured bandits muttered, his voice dripping with frustration. "Of all the caravans we had to ambush, it just had to be the one guarded by a monster in human skin and the Desert Witch Zharaith."

Kaelen couldn’t help but be amused by the nickname. Desert Witch had a certain intimidating ring to it, and considering Zharaith’s ruthless efficiency in the fight, it seemed fitting. He glanced over at her, watching as she calmly gave orders to the gnolls, her presence commanding respect without her even needing to raise her voice.

As he walked, Kaelen couldn’t help but feel relieved that he hadn’t tried to fight her when he first arrived at the village. Seeing how effortlessly she handled the bandits, he had no doubt that she had been holding back, and the thought of facing her at full strength made his skin crawl. She was more than capable of ending any fight in seconds, and Kaelen was certain she could still take him down even now.

He sighed, the weight of that realization settling in. The desert was full of dangers, but few were as formidable as Zharaith. He silently thanked his luck for being on her side rather than against her.

They pressed on through the night, the cool desert air a welcome change from the day's relentless heat. Just as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, Kaelen spotted the massive walls of Ashenhold rising in the distance, their imposing size silhouetted against the morning sky. He felt a surge of excitement and tried to get Vessira's attention, but she was fast asleep on top of his head, completely oblivious to their arrival.

As the caravan neared the city, the towering gates of Ashenhold came into full view. Two armored guards stood at attention in front of the entrance, their stern expressions never wavering as they watched the group approach.

"Halt, state your business, and provide a city entry permit for the caravan," one of the guards commanded, his voice firm.

Zharaith motioned to the gnoll beside her, who handed over a steel plate engraved with the caravan's credentials. "We're here to sell and resupply. We’ll only be in the city for about a week."

The guard nodded and shouted for the gates to be opened. The gnolls began filing into Ashenhold, and Kaelen followed, excited to see the city for the first time. But just as he approached the gate, a guard blocked him, pressing a firm hand to his chest.

"Hold up. All mercenaries must provide their own entry permit."

Kaelen blinked, confused for a moment, before realizing what he must look like in his armor. "Oh, I'm not a mercenary. I'm with the caravan—I just prefer heavier armor."

The guard narrowed his eyes in skepticism. "You really expect me to believe that? No permit, no entry."

Kaelen's eye twitched in frustration. He understood the man was doing his job, but the rudeness was unnecessary. "I have no reason to lie—"

Before he could finish, Zharaith reappeared from inside the gates, her own expression irritated. "He's telling the truth. This is my adopted son, and he is part of the caravan."

The guard hesitated, then reluctantly withdrew his hand from Kaelen's chest. "Tch, fine. You can enter. But don't go wandering around looking like a sellsword, or you'll attract trouble."

Kaelen wiped the fingerprints off his armor and glanced back at the guard, who continued to glare at him. "Thanks for that. What was that guy's problem, anyway?"

Zharaith chuckled. "He’s just one of those types who hates mercenaries—no honor and all that."

Kaelen shot the guard one last look before shaking his head and continuing to walk into the city, eager to see what Ashenhold had to offer.

As Kaelen stepped through the massive gates of Ashenhold, he was immediately struck by the vibrant atmosphere that enveloped him. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the sprawling city. Towering sandstone buildings, crafted with intricate carvings and adorned with colorful fabrics, rose majestically on either side of the bustling streets. Each structure seemed to tell its own story, the weathered stones echoing the passage of time and the vibrant life that pulsed within.

The sounds of merchants hawking their wares filled the air, creating a lively symphony of voices that blended with the laughter of children playing nearby. Kaelen watched as people moved about with purpose, their faces alight with excitement and determination. A group of children darted past him, giggling as they chased each other, their laughter ringing like music in the warm breeze.

The rich, tantalizing aroma of spiced meats sizzling over open flames wafted through the air, drawing Kaelen’s attention. He followed the scent, his stomach rumbling in response. Stalls lined the streets, each one bursting with colorful produce, fragrant herbs, and mouthwatering dishes. One vendor, an elderly woman with a twinkle in her eye, offered skewers of marinated lamb, while another displayed an array of pastries dusted with powdered sugar, glistening in the sun.

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Kaelen took a moment to breathe it all in—the warmth of the sun on his skin, the lively chatter of the city, and the mouthwatering scents of food mingling in the air. He couldn’t help but smile as he realized he had finally made it to a place where opportunities awaited. The hustle and bustle of Ashenhold was a stark contrast to the quiet, grim life he had known before, and he felt a surge of hope and excitement as he ventured deeper into the heart of the city.

Zharaith watched Kaelen, her smile widening at the sight of his childlike wonder. It was a stark contrast to the reserved nature he often displayed, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth at his excitement. "Kaelen, stay with us a while longer. You can't do anything without money," she urged gently.

Kaelen nodded, his gaze still sweeping over the bustling streets and the vibrant life around him. He followed the caravan, captivated by the sights and sounds of Ashenhold. As they walked, he caught glimpses of various shops and stalls, each one more intriguing than the last. The colors of the market stalls dazzled him—deep reds, bright yellows, and rich greens mingled together, creating a tapestry of life.

After a short walk, they approached a large building that stood out among the others. Its walls were adorned with intricate murals depicting scenes of trade and prosperity, a testament to the city's thriving spirit. Above the entrance hung a sign with symbols Kaelen couldn't read, but its grandeur made it clear that this was a place of importance.

Zharaith stopped and turned to him, gesturing toward the building. "This is the merchant's guild. It’s where we can resupply and sell what we’ve brought from the desert," she explained. Kaelen's curiosity piqued, and he stepped closer, eager to see what lay within. The large double doors creaked open as they approached, revealing a spacious interior bustling with traders and customers alike. The air was thick with the scent of spices and fresh produce, and the sounds of bartering filled his ears.

Kaelen felt a sense of purpose rising within him as he entered the guild. Here, in this bustling hub of commerce, he could finally take steps toward his new life. He looked over at Zharaith, determination shining in his eyes. “Let’s get started.”

Kaelen watched as Zharaith and a few other gnolls sold their leftover jerky, barrels of what he assumed to be alcohol, and even coats and other clothing crafted from the animals they had hunted. The bustling atmosphere of the merchant's guild was alive with bartering, laughter, and the clinking of coins.

Once they finished their transactions, Zharaith called him over. "Here, take this," she said, handing him a pouch filled with small silver and gold coins. Kaelen's eyes widened at the weight of it, and before he could even express his gratitude, Zharaith pulled three of the captured bandits from the back of the cart and set them at his feet.

"Take these thugs to any bounty office, and you should be able to get some more money. Vessira will show you the way," she instructed.

Kaelen nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and responsibility. "Thank you for all of your help, Zharaith. I’ll see you later." He watched as she turned back to the other gnolls, her commanding presence bringing order to the ongoing activities.

As Vessira fluttered down to his shoulder, her small form brimming with energy, Kaelen felt a sense of determination. He had a goal now, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the promise of a brighter future ahead.

"Kaelen, why didn’t you wake me up at the gate? I wanted to be awake when we entered the city!" Vessira exclaimed, irritation evident in her voice. Kaelen simply smiled in response.

"You were sleeping so peacefully up there; I didn’t want to disturb you," he replied, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Vessira huffed, crossing her arms. "Whatever. Let’s just get these guys turned in."

With that, Kaelen dragged the group of three bandits through the bustling streets, keeping a close eye on Vessira to avoid getting lost in the sea of activity. Merchants shouted their wares, children ran past laughing, and the scent of delicious street food wafted through the air, making Kaelen’s stomach rumble.

"Please, man, just release us! I don’t wanna go to jail! Our base is in the city; we’ll pay you," one of the bandits pleaded, desperation in his voice. The other two nodded in agreement, their eyes darting around nervously.

"Well, the bounty office will also pay me, and I just got here. I don’t wanna break any laws yet," Kaelen replied, shrugging nonchalantly as he continued to drag them along.

The bandits’ pleas persisted, echoing in his ears as they neared the bounty office. A clerk spotted the three hogtied men behind Kaelen and immediately rushed over, eyes wide with surprise and concern.

"I assume you're here to turn these men in. May I ask what happened?" the clerk inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure," Kaelen replied casually. "I was on my way to the city, and these three goons attacked me trying to rob me. I beat 'em up pretty good, and now they're here." He shrugged, a nonchalant grin on his face as he presented the bound bandits.

The clerk eyed the bound bandits with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "I see. And how exactly did you manage to take down three men on your own?"

Kaelen shrugged again, trying to appear casual. "Just got lucky, I guess. They weren't expecting much from me."

The clerk's gaze narrowed, clearly not buying his modesty. "Lucky? Or are you more capable than you let on?"

He chuckled softly. "A little of both, maybe. But they didn't stand a chance once I got going."

She nodded slowly, jotting down notes in a ledger. "Well, either way, you've done the city a service by bringing these ruffians in. I just need to verify the bounty and then we can settle this."

After a moment, she glanced at the bandits, who exchanged worried looks. "In the meantime, do you have a name? It's standard procedure to record the names of bounty hunters."

"Kaelen," he replied simply.

"Thank you, Kaelen. One moment, please." She turned to rummage through a drawer behind the desk, finally pulling out a small pouch filled with coins. "For these three, you’ll receive a total of fifty silver pieces. Here you go."

She handed him the pouch, and Kaelen felt the weight of it in his palm. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

The clerk smiled. "Just doing my job. If you ever find yourself in need of work again, don't hesitate to stop by. We can always use capable individuals like yourself."

Kaelen nodded, intrigued by the offer. "I might take you up on that."

With a final nod, he turned to leave, feeling a sense of accomplishment as he stepped back into the bustling streets of Ashenhold.