An Adventurer's Tale

[WP] You were just a lowly shopkeeper selling fruit next to the city gates, yet adventurers kept selling the most random stuff to you each time they returned. One day, you decided to start adventuring yourself, you're not sure what all this stuff on you does, but at least they have cool names.

*****

The fruit merchant's was a good living. Honest living. It didn't pay much, but Eliza's father had ways to make it work, and the gates of Kingstown were never lacking in adventurers who needed a healing concoction or an apple for the road. Be it Headhunters bringing back their bounty or a party returning from their hunt for dragons, there always was someone who needed fruit.

Sometimes, living legends passed by Eliza's stand. Silas Graystone, Princess Alios, Roland Sleigh. Even the King's eldest son, Prince Loras, had shopped from her. Such heroes were beyond petty plights, like currency— they paid in artifacts.

Eliza kept those artifacts, precious as they were. And they accumulated in time. Helms, swords, breastplates, shinguards and shoulderguards, enchanted regalia and magical amulets, bows and potions and things she didn't even know to name. She turned her father's old toolshed into an armoury of sorts, filled to the brim with these payments. Whenever she and her father would run out of silver, or whenever her baby brother wanted something they couldn't afford, Eliza would go to the market and sell one of them.

The armourers were more than happy to relieve her of the artifact, and in turn fill her pockets with silver and vouchers for future business.

Eventually, Eliza grew bored of this city life. The Outer Ring of Kingstown was a dull place for a lively young woman full of thirst for adventure and danger. So, after her twentieth winter, Eliza wore a set of... "stuff", filled her travel bags with potions, trinkets and fruit, tied a sword and a belt around her waist, and ran away.

She sold some of the trinkets in the market, for a respectable amount of silver and gold, just to begin with, and set off for the Palace.

People would cower before here and make way, despite the business of the streets. Adventurers would give her small cheers and, if they were lowly enough, a quiet, awed expression of their admiration. She reached the Inner Ring with no objection, and no-one batted an eye when she entered the Palace.

In one of the Palace's many antechambers, Eliza was given a seat while she awaited audience with the Royal Questgivers. There, she was given a chance to better examine the "stuff" she had worn.

Her armour was glistening and silvery gray, with golden accents and smooth brown leather binding the pieces together. The entire set was slick and lightweight, and extremely comfortable to move around in.

Around her neck, she was wearing five amulets; one for each God; the Master was represented by a whip, the Paladin by a sword, the Smith by a hammer, the Mother by a star and the Shepherd by a staff. They weighed next to nothing, despite being made by heavy metal.

The sword on her belt was named Dragonfly, and was vibrating with magic, as was her armour and amulets. Along the flat side of the blade were carved, apart from the sword' name, runes, that Eliza couldn't even hope to read. The magical staff that was tied to her back wasn't carved, but somehow she knew it once belonged to a long dead Magistrate.

On her fingers she wore rings, golden and silver and bronze, all enchanted, but Eliza had no idea what they did. Some had symbols of the Gods, others ones that she hadn't seen before.

Just as she had finished her inspection— and was beginning to wonder how long she would have to stay there—, an adventurer approached her and made a small bow of courtesy. His hair and beard was long and gray, and he was dressed in flowing blue robes. A warlock of the Mother.

"Hello," he said, and the Mother's amulet around Eliza's neck responded to his voice. "Quite the impressive equipment there, knight."

"Is it?" asked Eliza, with genuine surprise, before realising she was pretending to know what she was doing and correcting herself with, "I mean, thank you. You're not too bad yourself." She mentally reprimanded herself for losing her cool.

"Me? I'm a peasant compared to you," laughed the warlock light-heartedly. "Whatever dungeon did you raid to find this kind of weaponry?" He waved his hand dismissively at his party, who had began looking rather concerned about him conversing with Eliza.

"Oh, uhm..." Eliza hesitated. She thought she should tell him the truth. She had no business pretending to be an experienced adventurer— what she was doing wasn't illegal. She had traded for what she was wearing, fairly and by the book. There was no reason to be ashamed. "Ugh, you know, after a certain point you forget where you have and haven't been," she lied.

Stupid, a voice in the back of her head said.

"Ha, true that," agreed the man with an amused grin.

Eliza just barely restrained a sigh of relief. Unthinkingly, she unsheathed her sword and stroked the runes on the blade. It was strangely calming.

The warlock gasped. "Mother's Grace, you found the Dragonfly?" he asked incredulously. At the mention of the name, an elf from his party came over.

"Indeed," answered Eliza, trying to appear confident amidst her utter panic. "It's a very long story, I'm afraid." It wasn't. Silas Graystone had exchanged it for a sack of peaches, saying he preferred daggers.

Eliza couldn't have been more glad to see the warlock nod understandingly.

"I'd bet my beard on that," he agreed again. "I heard it belonged to Mordred the First Dragonslayer once upon a time." His eyes were wide with wonder.

"That's a myth, actually," replied the elf reproachfully, who had reached them from across the hall by then. "As was Mordred. The first dragon to die was Malayen, who was killed by his brother, Kalayen." Eliza blinked in surprise, and the elf smiled warmly. "I'm Fola of Riverend, artificer and historian," he added. "This is Foros Warmcoat, sworn to the Mother."

"El—" Eliza began, but stopped herself. She had to make a hero of herself. "Elaine of... Nowhere," she said. Seeing the besotted expressions of her interlocutors, they must have found her answer excitingly cryptic.

"Well then, Ser Elaine of Nowhere," said Foros Warmcoat with a wide smile, "we're off to see the Questgivers. We would be honoured to have with us the owner of the Dragonfly, if only for one adventure."

The elven artificer nodded in agreement. Back across the hall, three excited hands waved invitingly.

Eliza made the decision spontaneously, without taking a second to think. "The honour would be all mine," she answered honestly, barely constraining her excitement. She followed the two as they joined the rest of the party, who had started for the door that led to the main Questgiving Hall.

Not so stupid, the voice from before commended.

Her adventures were to be legendary, she thought.

*****

THE END