Forged in Flame

The First Steps

The morning sun bathed the kingdom of Ysirith in a golden glow, but despite the beautiful day, Arin's mood was anything but light. Her armoured boots clanged heavily against the stone streets as she led Rethis through the town square, her jaw set in a grim line. The weight of her father's death and the looming threat of the dragon pressed down on her like an iron yoke, and she knew that time was not on their side.

"I know who we need," Arin said, her voice sharp as she walked. "Lyria. She's the best healer in the kingdom. She's saved my life more times than I can count."

Rethis nodded thoughtfully, his long robes brushing against the cobblestones as he kept pace beside her. "That's a start, but a healer alone won't be enough to face a dragon. We need more muscle. The adventurers' guild might be worth a visit."

Arin frowned, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. "Adventurers? You want me to trust a bunch of sell-swords and rogues with the fate of my kingdom?"

Rethis' calm gaze met hers. "Not all adventurers are rogues, Your Highness. Many of them are skilled fighters, trackers, and survivors. They live for these kinds of quests. And I hear there's one in particular—Captain Thorne—who comes highly recommended. He's ranked among the best in the guild."

She let out a scoff, crossing her arms as they neared the adventurers' guildhall. "I don't need some arrogant mercenary questioning my every command. If he's the best, then fine. But I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone who doesn't know how to show respect."

Rethis chuckled softly. "You may find that respect can come in many forms, Princess."

She shot him a glare, but he ignored it, pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the guildhall. Inside, the atmosphere was bustling. Adventurers of all kinds filled the room, from grizzled veterans in dented armour to fresh-faced rookies barely old enough to hold a sword. The scent of sweat and ale hung thick in the air, and the walls were adorned with maps, trophies, and job postings, all marking the exploits of the guild's members.

Arin wrinkled her nose at the noise, her discomfort palpable. "Lovely," she muttered under her breath.

A clerk stood behind the desk at the far end of the hall, scribbling down notes as adventurers came and went. Arin marched over, slapping her hand on the desk to get his attention. "I'm looking for Captain Thorne."

The clerk looked up, eyeing her armour and then glancing at Rethis with mild curiosity. "Captain Thorne, huh? He's upstairs, in the private rooms. Big job just finished, so he's probably not in the best mood." He nodded toward the staircase.

"Perfect," Arin muttered. She was already annoyed by the thought of having to deal with a surly mercenary, but they didn't have the luxury of choice. She turned on her heel and made for the stairs, with Rethis quietly following behind.

Upstairs, they found a spacious room with a heavy oak door slightly ajar. Arin didn't bother knocking, pushing it open with authority. Inside, a man sat with his boots propped up on the table, a tankard in one hand. His leather armour was scuffed from battle, and his long, dark hair was tied back, revealing sharp features and a smug grin that set Arin's teeth on edge.

Captain Thorne looked up lazily, not bothering to stand. "Well, well. If it isn't Princess Arin herself. What brings royalty to this side of town?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, and Arin's fists clenched at his tone.

"I'm looking for a fighter to help me slay a dragon," Arin said, her voice curt. "I was told you might be the best."

Thorne's grin widened, and he took a long swig of his drink before setting the tankard down. "Oh, I'm the best, alright. But I don't take orders from spoiled little princesses. If you weren't wearing that fancy crown, I wouldn't even bother speaking to you."

Arin's temper flared, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Watch your tongue, Captain, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Thorne leaned back in his chair, clearly unfazed. "Big talk from someone who's never been out in the field. I've been fighting monsters and bandits for years while you've been playing with your court politics. So unless you've got something better to offer, I suggest you find another lackey to throw your weight around."

Arin's hand moved instinctively toward her sword, ready to draw it, but Rethis placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Princess," he said softly, his tone calm but firm. "Let me handle this."

She hesitated, her pride demanding she strike Thorne down then and there, but she reluctantly stepped back, nodding at Rethis to take over.

The mage stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Thorne's with a quiet intensity. "Captain Thorne," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "The princess doesn't need to prove herself to you. You should show more respect to those who seek your help."

Thorne snorted. "Respect? What's she ever done to earn mine?"

Without warning, Rethis raised his hand, and a wave of magic rippled through the air, causing the tankard to hover above Thorne's head before tipping over and spilling ale down his front. Thorne leapt to his feet, sputtering in outrage, but before he could react further, Rethis' eyes glowed faintly with magical energy.

"I suggest," Rethis continued, his voice as smooth as ever, "that you reconsider your tone, Captain. The princess may not need to prove herself, but I assure you, I can make things... uncomfortable for you if you continue to be difficult."

Thorne wiped the ale from his face, his expression darkening. For a moment, it seemed like he might lash out, but the faint crackle of magical energy around Rethis made him think twice. He clenched his jaw, glaring at the mage and then at Arin, before finally relenting.

"Fine," he growled. "I'll help. But don't think for a second that I'm doing it out of respect for you, Princess. It's just business."

Arin's lips curled into a smirk. "Good. I wasn't expecting respect from someone like you anyway. I just need your sword."

Thorne glared at her but said nothing more.

---

Later that evening, the group retreated to a small inn on the outskirts of town. The tavern was quiet, with only a few patrons scattered around the dimly lit room. Arin sat at a table with Rethis and Thorne, the tension still lingering in the air. Lyria had arrived earlier in the day, her warm smile and gentle demeanour a welcome contrast to the gruff adventurer sitting across from them.

"So," Thorne said, his tone still gruff but more restrained, "what's the plan, Princess? Where do you plan on finding this dragon?"

Arin's gaze flicked to Rethis, who produced a small, ancient map from his satchel and unrolled it on the table. "The dragon has made its lair in the Ashen Peaks, just beyond the Elderwood Forest. It's a dangerous journey, but with the right preparation, we can make it."

Thorne studied the map, his brows furrowing. "The Ashen Peaks, huh? That's not exactly friendly territory."

"No," Rethis agreed. "But it's where we'll find the dragon. And if we don't stop it soon, there won't be a kingdom left to defend."

Lyria, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "We can do this. Together, we're stronger than any one of us alone."

Arin nodded, her resolve strengthening. "Exactly. We'll leave at first light. Get some rest. We have a long journey ahead."

Thorne grunted, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps respect, or at least a grudging acknowledgment of the seriousness of their mission.

As they each retreated to their rooms for the night, Arin couldn't help but feel the weight of the journey ahead. The dragon was out there, somewhere in the mountains, and she knew that their greatest challenges were yet to come.

But for the first time, she wasn't facing them alone.