As Stanley's shopping preparations drew to a close, he made his way to the outskirts of the market, where the old herbalist, Mr. Twining, ran a modest stall filled with dried herbs, roots, and carefully labeled potions. The stall, shaded by an ancient oak, smelled strongly of earth and greenery—a testament to the years Mr. Twining had spent mastering his craft.

Stanley approached the stall with respect, knowing the old man's reputation for wisdom—and his sharp tongue. "Good morning, Mr. Twining. I need some supplies for a journey I’m about to undertake," Stanley began, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Mr. Twining peered up from beneath bushy, graying eyebrows, his eyes sharp as they took in Stanley's appearance. "A journey, eh? Let me guess, you’re off to those blasted Trials," he said gruffly, beginning to sort through his wares without waiting for an answer.

Stanley hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, sir. I’m preparing for the Trials."

The herbalist snorted, a sound filled with disdain. "Foolishness. Pure foolishness. You, with your brains and potential, throwing your life away for some random chance at power." He shook his head, selecting a few vials and placing them on the counter. "Here, you’ll need these—if you insist on going. Healing salves, pain killers, and a potion for quick energy."

As Stanley examined the items, Mr. Twining continued, "You know, lad, the randomness of these Trials, the classes they might throw at you—it's all a gamble. And not a good one. The power they give is limited, not worth the risk."

Stanley listened, a frown creasing his brow. "I appreciate your concern, sir, but I've made up my mind. I need to see this through, see what I’m capable of."

The herbalist sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Stubborn, just like your father. Well, if you’re set on this path, at least hear me out. There’s another way to seek adventure, one far less deadly." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Just join a dungeon diving squad. Explore the dungeons, gather treasures and get some knowledge. Your father, may he rest in peace, was a crazy bastard but it’s a way to seek adventure without nearly the stupid risk of the Trials."

Stanley paused, considering the herbalist's words. What he said was true. The idea of joining a dungeon diving squad was appealing; it promised adventure and the chance to gain experience. "I'll think about it," he finally lied, meeting Mr. Twining's gaze.

"Think hard, boy. Lives aren’t something to gamble with." Mr. Twining handed over the medicines. "Take these, on the house. Consider them a gift, or a warning. Use them well, whether you go to the Trials or find a safer path."

Stanley nodded, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Mr. Twining. I appreciate your advice—and your concern."

As he left the stall, the weight of the herbalist’s words hung heavy on his shoulders. The journey to the Trials was not just a test of physical and magical skill but a decision that could end his life. But his mind was already made up.

***

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the soft voice calling his name.

"Stanley!" Ellen's voice, usually so cheerful, sounded unusually tentative. She approached with hesitant steps, her green eyes flickering with an emotion he couldn't immediately place.

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"Can we talk? Somewhere private?" she asked, her hands twisting a piece of her apron.

Stanley nodded, following her to a quiet corner of the village square, away from the bustling morning crowd. They stopped beneath an old oak tree, its leaves whispering above them in the gentle breeze.

Ellen took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on her fidgeting hands before she finally looked up to meet Stanley's eyes. "I... I need to tell you something, Stanley," she began, her voice quivering slightly. "I’ve had feelings for you for a long time. I know you’re planning to leave, but I thought you should know."

Stanley's eyes widened in surprise. Ellen’s confession was unexpected, and he felt a wave of discomfort washing over him. He raised his hand, signaling her to pause, his mind racing for the right words.

"Ellen, I—" he started, then stopped, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts. "I'm flattered, truly, but I don’t feel the same way. I've never seen us that way."

Ellen's face fell, her initial nervousness transforming into embarrassment. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and her eyes glistened with the onset of tears.

Stanley continued, his voice gentle but firm. "I’m sorry if this hurts you, but it wouldn’t be right to pretend there’s something there when there isn’t. You deserve someone who can return your feelings fully, someone better suited to you."

Ellen bit her lip, her emotions visibly struggling to break free. Without another word, she turned and hurried away, her steps quick and uneven as she fled from the awkwardness and heartache of the moment.

Stanley watched her go, feeling a pang of guilt for causing her pain. Yet he knew honesty was necessary, painful though it might be. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the moment settle around him.

Part of him was flattered by her feelings. Ellen was sweet and kind, but he had always found her a bit too spoiled and indulgent for his taste; her naivety and clinginess grating against his desire for independence and worldliness.

As he stood there, the morning light filtering through the oak leaves, Stanley reaffirmed his decision to leave. This village, with all its familiar faces and intertwined lives, was too small for the dreams he harbored. His path lay elsewhere, beyond the boundaries of these cobblestone streets and well-meaning but ultimately confining relationships.

Turning his back on the village square, Stanley headed to finish his preparations. There were still a few loose ends to wrap up. His heart stoic against the hurt he had caused, but also lightened by the clarity of his resolve. The road ahead was his to travel.

***

The morning air was still crisp and clear as Stanley made his way down the familiar path towards the river, where he knew he would find Cara. His thoughts were a jumble—leaving for the Trials, the recent difficult conversation with Ellen, and now, his impending farewell to Cara. It struck him, not without a trace of irony, how suddenly all these significant moments with the village girls were converging just as he was about to leave.

He spotted Cara by the riverbank, her blonde hair glinting in the sunlight as she repaired one of the fishing nets. The sight of her, so focused and capable, brought a small smile to his face despite the heavy thoughts weighing on his mind.

“Cara,” he called out as he approached.

She looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand, her face breaking into a broad grin. “Stanley! What brings you down here? Looking to learn a bit about fishing before you head off?”

Stanley chuckled, admiring her ever-present spirit. “Actually, I came to talk to you about something important,” he said, his tone growing more serious.

Cara’s expression sobered as she set aside the net and stood, wiping her hands on her trousers. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’m leaving, Cara. I’m going to the Trials.”

Cara blinked, surprise registering on her face. “The Trials? But why? That’s…” Her voice trailed off as the gravity of his decision sank in.

“I need to see if I can do more, be more,” Stanley explained, his voice steady. “And I might not come back. So, I wanted to ask you if you’d look after my house. Just in case. And if I don't come back, it's yours.”

Cara’s eyes searched his, and for a moment, Stanley saw the concern and care she often masked with her tough exterior. “Of course, Stanley. I’ll look after it like it’s my own. You’re coming back, though. You have to.”

The earnestness in her voice touched Stanley deeply. Before he could respond, Cara stepped forward and did something he never expected—she kissed him. It was a quick, impulsive act, but it sent his heart racing. When she stepped back, her cheeks were slightly flushed, but her eyes were resolute.

“That’s to keep you safe and bring you back,” she said, her voice a mix of boldness and vulnerability.

Stanley, still reeling a bit from the kiss, managed a nod. “I’ll do my best to come back. Thank you, Cara, for everything.”

They stood together in silence for a few moments, looking out at the river flowing steadily before them. Stanley felt a profound gratitude for Cara’s friendship and her fierce spirit, which in many ways, mirrored his own resolve.

“Just make sure you do come back, Stanley,” Cara said, her tone half-teasing, half-serious. “This village wouldn’t be the same without you. And neither would I.”

Stanley smiled, his heart swelling with a mix of affection and ache. “I’ll try my hardest. And knowing you’re here, looking after things, that means a lot.”

With a final nod and a sad smile, Stanley turned to leave, his steps lighter than when he had arrived. Cara’s belief in him, her unexpected show of affection, had given him a new strength.

He left the river with a renewed sense of purpose, each step towards his new start now spurred by the belief and hopes of those he cared about. Whatever danger lay ahead, Stanley also knew that the thoughts of his supports, and Cara’s kiss, would be with him, guiding him back home.