That One Time I Went on a Quest

Kaishen, Bane of Dragons

Kathanhiel, in her shiny and pleasantly body-fitting armour, looks out of this world. Killisan stumbles twice in the first hour because my eyes are never on the road. Haylis is nowhere near as breathtaking in comparison, especially when she reaches under her cuirass to scratch her armpit then pulls out her hand to smell it.

Setting off on a grand quest in the company of two beautiful women would be a dream come true if not for the torrential rain. The grassland is greyer than a century-old painting, and the bitter cold pommels all potential outbursts of heroic poetry into silence – not that there is any.

If only my folks could see me now, a proper knight decked out in full armour...plus six bulky bags. Those are Kathanhiel's inventory, important stuff that her esquire gladly carries in her stead. Kathanhiel carries only weapons: full plates, Kaishen slung across her back, a folded shield tied to her left thigh, a short-handled pick to her right – for climbing, probably. Two more swords and an obsidian bow sits upon her saddle. Woe to those who would do her harm.

At noon we stop at a cattle ranch, and there Kathanhiel buys what looks like half a cow's worth of meat, which, after a week of watching her devour whole steaks in three minutes, is less than usual. Somehow she can stuff her face while looking as refined as a lady at court.

'Should – should I bring out the wine my lady?' I ask.

'In the middle of the day? How old do you think I am Kastor?

'Um...I don't...'

'Not old enough to be your mother, who surely does not yet partake in alcohols at lunch.'

Well, about that...

'I wouldn't mind some wine.' Haylis says.

I look at Kathanhiel. 'Tonight,' she says.

'It's not the same when Lyan will have everything.'

'Uh...pardon me?' I ask idiotically.

'Haylis had him set up camp ahead of us,' Kathanhiel explains, 'warm beds and such, to ease us into the long journey ahead.'

I've never said it before and I'll say it again: Haylis is a genius and I'm glad she is coming with us.

'Should we not be more discreet? Aren't there cultists out here?' My most half-hearted argument ever.

Haylis laughs. 'A day from the winter palace? Quit whining, I can see you like it.'

After that pleasant meal there is more riding. The rain eases up late in the afternoon, and with the wind dying down and storm clouds fleeing every which way, the day ends perfectly: under a fiery sunset, in a sea of green, and with pleasant company, Haylis included.

Best day of my life.

Kastor, esquire to Kathanhiel, on a quest to slay the Rutherford Dragon. That just rolls of the tongue. Not really.

There are a few trees scattered about now, tall ones that must have stood there for hundreds of years. As the night falls they appear as huge scarecrows in the distance, watching over the fields. The wind has picked up again, sending ripples over the rustling grass.

We slow down; it's gotten too dark for running. Haylis' silhouette is barely visible as she points north. 'The campfire, see it? Between those two trees.'

I see it, the orange glow – a beacon of hope. The horses eagerly pick up speed. Getting closer reveals the outline of a carriage, the four-wheeled kind that features soft leather seats and sealed cabins. Maybe Killisan can pull it tomorrow.