Swords and Flowers

Ch.1: The Adventurer

Valoria's Adventurer's Guild was always bustling. 

Even at dawn, the air inside the Guild hall was thick with noise — laughter, shouts, and the clinking of mugs over stories shared. 

To the left of the main door, Copper and Iron-ranked adventurers gathered around the fire, swapping tales of yesterday's hunts. On the opposite side, Silver and Gold ranks gathered in more selective clusters, muttering about recent rumors, monster sightings, and ambitions for the higher ranks.

At the far end of the room, a heavy oak counter with a long line of adventurers framed the taskmasters' desks, where clerks (often called Taskmasters) in blue and silver tabards took reports of completed jobs, filed grievances, and assigned new quests. The walls, dark and burnished from years of smoke and spilled ale, bore marks of weaponry, odd herbs, and a vast notice board overflowing with parchment.

The door swung open, and Caelann strode in, his boots covered in dust from the road. He took a breath, letting the liveliness of the Guild settle around him. The smell of old ale and roasting meat mingled with hints of steel and leather, familiar and comforting.

"Oi, Caelann!" called out a stout, balding adventurer with a bristly beard. He was seated near the fire, tankard raised. "Heard you got into it with those ogres last week!"

Caelann nodded, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Almost had me, but let's just say I was smarter, Boric."

"Ha! Next time, you invite an expert like me to go with ya!" Boric winked before diving back into his own tale.

Caelann made his way through the crowd to the notice board, his fingers tracing over a handful of posted quests. There were plenty of routine requests—clearing out rats, gathering rare herbs—but he wanted something more substantial.

"BEAR AT LARGE NEAR MILLER'S GROVE – Capture or Dispatch."

"Hmm," he muttered, pulling the parchment down for a closer look. It wasn't a major job, but it could bring in a few extra coins.

Before he could turn to head out, a familiar, scrappy voice piped up beside him.

"Off to wrestle with the local bear, Caelann?" It was a Silver-ranked elf who had bested him in a spar only a week ago. She smirked, adjusting her bow.

"Someone's got to keep the village folk safe," he shot back, grinning. "Especially when the finest adventurers are off slaying dragons."

"Drinks on me, then, if you survive." She snorted and stepped back toward her group, leaving him to his task.

With the quest parchment in hand, Caelann made his way to Miller's Grove, a small farmstead on the outskirts of the city. It was a good half-hour's walk, the sun setting in a blaze of orange over the distant mountains.

"'Bout time one of you showed up!" barked the miller, an elderly man with a well-worn cap, wringing his hands. He stood beside his henhouse, glancing nervously at the treeline.

Caelann raised an eyebrow. "Trouble's been that bad?"

"Bah! That bear's not just stealing chickens. It's been breaking fences, scaring the livestock. Last night, my daughter saw it roaming by the barn! I'll be in ruin if this keeps up," he said, his voice barely masking a tremor.

"Well, let's make sure that doesn't happen." Caelann looked around. "Know where it usually goes?"

"Near the old hunter's trail by the hills. Last I saw, it was headed toward the southern trees. But don't try to tame it — it's a monster, that one." The miller shook his head, muttering about adventurers and their bravado.