Brimlux, second in size only to the capital of Udrela, and home to many groups, both competing and cooperating: The Order of Paladins, the Guild of Aberrational Hunters, the College of Magi, and the largest guildhall, and headquarters, of the Adventurers’ Guild.

Filled with warriors in shining armour, rogues hidden under leather cowls, and mages draped in colourful robes decorated in runes both new and ancient, Brimlux’s guildhall, like always, was bustling with adventurers.

Among the many warriors, a giant sat undisturbed. Two-meters tall, with a sword just as long, the flat-topped blade smithed from black steel. A bright-red hood draped his head, the loose cloak held in place by a singular button. His dull, brown eyes peeked out from the shadow of his hood. A powerful jaw led up into strands of black hanging out from the hood's sides. Rolt was well-known amongst the Guild as one of the strongest warriors in Brimlux.

Uncomfortable atop the small stool, the large man was in a constant state of shifting and readjusting, trying pointlessly to stretch out his tree-trunk legs. A sturdy mug of wood and iron wobbled in his beefy hand, ale sloshing dangerously close to the rim with each movement.

“You realize you're stressing the poor thing, right?”

Looking up, the large man smiled at the sight of his friend.

Scarlett: a name matching both her appearance and personality. From her bustier, leggings, and arm warmers, to the sash dangling from her hips, every item bled a different shade of red. Her voluminous hair caught the light in such a pure, sheening crimson that the strands resembled a small waterfall of blood. A soft, white blouse created a stark contrast to the sea of red, held tight under her laced, leather bustier. She was as playful and cunning as her wardrobe was red.

Scarlett tilted her head, directing the hulking man towards the guildhall’s front door.

Pushing off the stool, several nearby patrons jumped at the sound of his cracking knees. Rolt’s joints were finally able to stretch out. Downing his drink, the giant slammed the empty mug against the surface of the small table, rocking the weak furniture. The possible damage was a minor thought as he grabbed his massive sword, slinging it smoothly across his burly back.

Scarlett led Rolt out of the guildhall, sauntering out into the busy streets that crisscrossed through their massive hometown. “We're heading north," she declared.

Turning, waiting for her to continue, Rolt hoped for no more than that she had found them good work.

“I think I've found him. Reports from an old contact in Shadowfen say they spotted someone who resembled Talon pass through about a week ago, heading north. Apparently he was seen with a dwarf and elf too.”

His arms crossing, Rolt slowly shook his head, an inaudible sigh escaping his lips.

Holding her hands up in a placating gesture, hushing Rolt’s wordless skepticism, Scarlett pushed on. “I know, I know. But this won't be like the last... eh, six times. If we just head north, we'll eventually cross paths with him. It’s a fool-proof plan, probably. Now come on, I already packed our bags with rations and spare clothes… well, spare clothes for me. There wasn’t really anything in your size, so I just bought a big, new cloak for you. Winter’s hitting us soon, and you could certainly use one."

Rubbing his temples, Rolt trailed behind Scarlett, the redhead beckoning him to follow her, leading him to the stables, where well-crafted walls of oak guarded the three-dozen horses inside from the elements.

Scarlett’s horse, Ruby, neighed as her master stepped under the slanted roof, scraping her hoof against the dirt.

Hopping the distance to her mare, Scarlett landed with her hands playfully thrown into the air, coming gently down to pat the horse’s muzzle. “Hey there, girl. How’s it going?” Ruby whinnied, shaking her crimson-dyed mane back and forth. “Glad to hear it. Ready to move out?” Another whinny was all she got, but it was all the go-ahead she needed to toss on Ruby’s saddle.

Huffing at the noisy pair, Obsidian trotted towards the entrance. Rolt’s black stallion was too large to comfortably fit within the stable’s confines, once his rider was atop the saddle. Swinging the gate open to let the beast out, Rolt pat Obsidian’s muzzle, eliciting another huff, though this one far more amicable than the prior.

“Catch, big guy!” Scarlett tossed Obsidian’s saddle, the heavy leather plopping down at Rolt’s feet. “Whoops… guess I need to work on my underhand.”

Shrugging, Rolt picked up the saddle, dusting it off before nodding to Obsidian, whom decided when he would be saddled. Standing over Rolt, and even most other steeds, Obsidian was massive, needing the extra muscle for Rolt to sit comfortably astride.

With the horses ready to move, the strange-looking pair led them away from the stables, mounting them as the open streets neared. With only the slightest pressure, Ruby began trotting forward, Scarlett looking at Rolt from over her shoulder. “Come on, big guy. We've got a lot of ground to cover, and we’re already way behind.”

* * *

Three days into their hurried journey, mild luck turned sour. Dark, angry clouds swirled overhead, blotting out the sun and threatening a violent downpour. Teasing wind lifted their cloaks with icy fingers, piercing both body and mind.

Scarlett lifted one hand towards the sky, catching fat drops of rain in the palm of her leather glove. “Well, this sucks. Probably should’ve packed for this, huh?” Musing quietly to herself, resting a hand gently atop her thigh, Scarlett glanced over her shoulder towards her companion. “As much as I love riding wet, we should probably find some shelter! There should be an inn further down the road, if I remember correctly.”

Four hours later, as the sun was beginning to set beneath an orange skyline, they found said inn.

Old and rickety, with bloating, rotting walls, Rolt found the only word he could to describe the establishment was shabby. He squinted up at the weather-beaten sign, twisting in the wind, the only identifying image some indecipherable scribble over what looked to be a crudely-drawn depiction of a goblin grasping a knife. Or a unicorn. Rolt wasn’t sure.

“Not the most flattering place, but we’ve stayed in worse,” Scarlett mused, leading Ruby into the stables, squeezing the mare beside the dozen-or-so other horses already packed into the small structure.

Rolt led Obsidian into the warm stable, leaving him to his own devices, gifting Scarlett with a baleful glare. The black stallion snorted at the other horses, forcing them to move away, allowing the beast more space in the cramped space.

The adventurers gave their horses a brisk brush-down before filling their troughs with the cheap grain provided by the innkeeper.

“I envy knights with their squires who do all of the menial tasks, leaving the big boys to just drink and kill.”

Rolt glanced at Scarlett before letting Obsidian waltz into the stable. He walked away, towards the shelter of the inn.

“Hey, wait up!”

As expected, the inn was teeming with the usual suspects - traveling merchants, bards, mercenaries, and mysterious characters cutting shady deals in dark corners.

Scarlett nudged Rolt with her elbow. “Let’s find ourselves a room.”

Rolt nodded, trailing the redhead towards the counter, where a portly man stood wiping a mug with a dirty rag. Catching Rolt’s eye, he scowled, jerking his head in the direction of two empty stools, seated at the end of the bar.

Well, he’s a welcoming one, Scarlett thought. Reaching the bar, she plopped down on the stool, putting her elbows down on the counter, cradling her head in her palms. “Good evening.”

The round man grunted, slamming the mug down in front of her. “You only here to hide from the rain, or do you actually want to order something?”

Biting back a sarcastic retort, Scarlett leaned forward. “I was hoping for a room, though I’ll gladly take some wine, if you’ve got any.”

“We’ve got ale and brandy.”

Scarlett gave a playful smile. “No water?”

With a snort, the barkeep pointed towards the door. “Plenty outside.”

Just barely holding her smile up, Scarlett pushed on. “And the room?”

The innkeeper shrugged, waggling a thumb towards the gathering of warriors near the hearth. “All taken by the boys in blue over there. You want a room, you talk to them.”

Scarlett’s grin fell, twisting into a dour scowl. She had spent her younger years evading the law, missing the finer points of a young lady’s formative years. Nevertheless, she could charm the scales off a dragon if she had to. Taking a deep breath, Scarlett pushed herself from the bar, strutting over to the ‘boys in blue.’

Gold-trimmed surcoats of blue and polished chainmail reflected the hearth’s light, golden doves circling atop the warriors’ chests. Almost half of them had scarves or patches of pure red as part of their uniform, though for what reason, Scarlett couldn’t identify.

The Captain was easy enough to spot amidst the more undisciplined soldiers. Beneath his shorn, salt-and-pepper hair, black eyes drilled into Scarlett as she approached. His hawkish features reinforced the impression that she was no more than a mere mouse, caught in the sights of a deadly bird of prey.

She hesitated for a moment, just managing to smooth out her nerves as she came up to the table.

Most of the soldiers did little more than glance up before returning to their meals.

“Can I help you, miss?” The Captain’s voice was deep, though not unpleasant, flowing like rushing water against sharpened stone.

Mustering her most gracious smile, Scarlett bent forward, hands clasping playfully behind her. “Hello there, fine Sirs. Me and my friend over there were trying to acquire a room for the night, only to be informed that you’d rented them all already.”

The Captain nodded slowly, chewing his stale, buttered biscuit, waiting.

“And… I was just wondering, if you could possibly spare some space for us?”

One of the soldiers, sitting at the edge of the group, snorted. “Yeah, I could probably find some space for you, red. If you don’t mind sharin’ a bed together, that is.” A few of the other soldiers cackled, all of those wearing blots of crimson, but their leader sat stern.

“Private.” The Captain’s weight shifted. The old soldier’s movement was slight, the table’s mood tense.

“Whaddya-” The soldier’s eyes widened over the fork in his mouth, glued to the Captain’s dagger now impaling his hand. The other soldiers gaped, back and forth between their frightening Captain, and the unfortunate Private.

Picking up his own fork, the Captain straightened his shoulders, pointing the utensil at his bleeding man. “You dishonor not only yourself with your actions, but me and the rest of your squad as well. Remember that.” He turned back to Scarlett, his eyes betraying nothing. “Unfortunately, as much as I would like to secure lodgings for you two, I think it’d be best if you kept your distance from this rabble.”

Scarlett’s smile slipped, but she kept the sullen pout off her face until she and Rolt reached the bar. Her friend slid a silver coin to the bartender, pointing at an empty mug.

As Rolt chugged his ale, the bartender turned his attention back to Scarlett. “Your friend don’t talk much, does he?” The innkeeper pocketed the silver coin, watching with amusement as the large warrior drained his cup.

“Not a word.” Scarlett drawled, her mood now a sour one. “So, about our accommodations for the night…”

“As I said, lady, rooms are all taken up.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

“Well, unless you want to lay with the horses, you’re out of luck.”

Scarlett sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “How much?”

Glancing over at the redhead, seeming to genuinely consider the price, the innkeeper rubbed thumb and index finger together. “Five silver pieces.”

Feigning disgust, Scarlett propped herself up, knowing full-well he would high-ball it. “I’ll give you two, and even that’s being generous given how shabby your stables are.”

The innkeeper glanced over at Rolt, who was quietly staring him down. Shrugging, ignoring the sweat that trickled down his back, the portly keeper relented. “Fair enough. Two silver.”

With a satisfied nod, Scarlett handed over the money, ordering food for herself and Rolt. Given all that was being served were biscuits with honey, and meat stew, their options were limited, but they took what they could get. They filled their stomachs and retired for the night.

To the stables they went, hoping to find a comfortable place to bed down among near the two dozen horses.

* * *

Nose wrinkling against the smell of horse dung and urine, Scarlett’s wool blanket proved poor protection against the nauseating odours encasing the moulding stables. Looking over at Rolt, sleeping peacefully against Obsidian, Scarlett squirmed against Ruby, finding the poor quality of the stables’ ceiling to be even worse than the overbearing smell.

Even tucked away into the back, near the piles of hay, rain dripped between old boards, soaking into Scarlett’s blanket. Shuddering against the cutting wind, her teeth chattering, she nuzzled further into Ruby’s coat. Tossing and turning, a miserable half-hour passed before the weight of her eyes overcame discomfort, and she fell into a light slumber.

* * *

By morning the rain stopped, and at first light, Rolt rolled away from Obsidian and woke Scarlett, lightly shaking her shoulder.

She stirred almost immediately, welcomed by the familiar look of Rolt’s thin smile. “Mornin’, I guess,” She mumbled, clumsily throwing her damp blanket from her aching body, and clambering to her feet. Stretching out, she noticed that the soldiers’ horses were gone, allowing the adventurers space to walk about. “Well, at least the troop of arseholes is well on their way ahead of us. Hopefully we won’t see them again.”

Rolt shrugged the comment away, heading inside for his breakfast, Scarlett trailing just behind.

* * *

Absentmindedly stirring her meat stew, Scarlett found her attention focused solely on a motley-dressed bard, strumming through her well-practiced list of tales. Their next one started slow, progressing into a jaunty, energetic tune. She strummed her lute with light fingers, a soprano voice sing talking the lyrics.

O, listen well, who all sail west

For the storm to come shall be one not bested

With a crew two-hundred strong and a blade that bites deep

Through the mists and the dead, Bloodbeard brings all to dread

Scarlett’s lips pulled up slightly, her thin smile parting as she ate a spoonful of stew.

With a sword of steel and a hand that steals

Unabated by age or guilt, he took from all that had been gilt

Silver or gold or even life, it mattered not to one free of strife

His coffers never full, always starving for more

Scarlett’s foot tapped against the floorboards, following the song’s rhythm.

Rolt glanced over, eating more quietly.

His eyes wandered free, from drink to trinket

Until one day he spotted one worth more than tonnage

A fair lady, hair like roses, brighter than the sun

And a face full of soul, too hard to bear without

Scarlett played with her hair, circling a finger through the thick strands, red as a rose.

But alas, she was hid behind walls

Too full of life and a willful fire

Once their eyes did exchange, and a connection was made

And from that day on, his course was then set

So it was decided, by ole Bloodbeard himself

That he would have what he wanted most

Under the night he did sail, only his lone self to carry the winds

His prize cast over castle walls, no climb too high for a treasure so fine

But alas, he was caught, trapped betwixt steel and ocean

Bested but no beaten, Redbeard planned his escape posthaste

Showing his tongue to be one of silver, he did meet his treasure

The woman of gold freed him heartily, and together they fled

For ten more years, did Bloodbeard sail before his end

His greatest treasure captured and never sold

His second greatest following to his grave, sunk into the deep blue

A legacy of murder and theft ending in flames upon the sea

The music died down, falling from its crescendo into a serene quiescent. Without a bow or a single clap from her audience, the bard set her lute aside, letting the room sit in its silence.

Scarlett stood from her seat, thumbing a handful of coppers, clinking together as she dropped the coins into the bard’s bag. The two women shared a nod, and Scarlett strut back to Rolt, the giant of a man sipping up the last of his stew. “It’s time we got back out there, don’t you think?”

Rolt nodded, pushing himself up from the squealing stool.

With bellies full, and their clothes properly dried by the fireplace, the adventurers headed out. Taking their horses back onto the mud-slick road, the sun’s rays reflecting off wet leaves, water dripping into puddles risen overnight, they moved on.

Their first day on the road having ended well enough, they rode without reservations, riders urging horses on.