The adventurer's guild hall was already bustling with activity by the time Lyra slipped through its doors. Warriors and mages were gathered around tables, discussing strategies, planning routes, or boasting about their most recent conquests. Despite being one of the youngest here, Lyra kept her head held high, focused on her goal: finding more work.
She made her way to the job board and scanned the familiar "F-rank" section, where simple tasks were pinned. While she read, she noticed a neatly written notice at the bottom of the board, scribbled in black ink:
Needed: Herbal Assistant
An extra hand to gather herbs for my medicines. Mildly safe for an apprentice adventurer. Payment upon delivery. Find me at Awen's Apothecary near the east gate.
—Madam Awen
Lyra's eyes lit up. She'd gathered herbs before, and she knew the general area well enough. Plus, this sounded safer than many of the other odd jobs she'd seen. She glanced at the crowd around her, clutching the paper tighter. It was her first time taking an assignment so independently, and although it was a minor task, the chance to earn more and build a good reputation excited her.
Madam Awen's apothecary was tucked into a narrow street near the east gate, with a small, weathered sign swinging above the door. Lyra opened the door cautiously, peeking inside. The room was dimly lit, filled with rows of jars, bottles, and dried plants hanging from the ceiling. The air was thick with the scents of herbs—earthy and slightly sweet.
A small, elderly woman with silver hair tied back in a braid sat behind a counter, sorting bundles of dried leaves. She looked up, her sharp eyes scrutinizing Lyra. "Well, don't just stand there, child," she said briskly. "You're here about the herbalist job?"
Lyra nodded, swallowing her nerves. "Yes, Madam Awen. I saw your notice at the guild."
The old woman raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening just a touch. "Hmph. You're young, but I suppose we all have to start somewhere. And I could use an extra set of hands. Herbs don't gather themselves." She gestured for Lyra to come closer.
Lyra took a few steps forward, watching as Madam Awen pulled out a small cloth bag and a folded piece of parchment. She handed them to Lyra.
"Here's a list of what I need," she said, tapping the parchment. "These herbs grow in the nearby woods, not far from the eastern edge of town. I expect you'll be careful—some of them are tricky to find, and a few have thorns. I'd rather not have to patch you up if you get scratched."
Lyra nodded, her eyes scanning the list of herbs. The names sounded familiar, though she wasn't sure she'd seen some of them before. "Understood," she said, tucking the paper into her pocket.
Madam Awen grunted in approval. "Good. Bring them back by sundown, and I'll pay you a silver coin for the lot. But don't bother coming back empty-handed—I don't pay for excuses."
Lyra set off toward the edge of town, determined. The silver coin Awen had promised was a far better reward than she was used to, and it filled her with a new sense of purpose. A single silver could last her and Emmy a few days if she stretched it right. Maybe even buy them another treat.
As she reached the woods, Lyra unfolded the list Madam Awen had given her. She recognized a few plants right away: sweetmint leaves, for stomach ailments; devil's nettle, a greenish-brown weed with thin, spiny leaves; and heartleaf, which was supposed to help with fever. The other plants—starflame and widow's lace—were names she'd heard only in passing.
The woods were dense with tall trees and vines that tangled across the path. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, casting patches of light and shadow on the forest floor. Birds chirped overhead, and Lyra could hear the rustling of small animals in the underbrush.
She crouched by a cluster of small plants, inspecting them carefully. The jagged leaves and tiny purple flowers matched the description of devil's nettle. She carefully used her sleeve to pluck the nettle, avoiding the prickly stems, and placed it into her bag.
The next herb, sweetmint, was easier to spot. It grew along a small creek she found as she ventured deeper into the woods. Its strong, minty scent filled the air as she gathered a handful, adding it to her growing collection. The task was peaceful, and she enjoyed the quiet focus it required—until she realized she'd spent nearly an hour and was only halfway through the list.
Pushing through the dense foliage, Lyra spotted a clump of heartleaf near the roots of an old tree. She knelt down, brushing dirt from the waxy, heart-shaped leaves. Just as she reached for one, a rustle in the bushes nearby made her freeze.
Her heart pounded, but she didn't dare make a sound. She slowly turned her head, expecting to see a wild animal—but instead, a young adventurer, a boy no older than fourteen, stumbled out of the brush. He had the look of someone who'd just started out in the guild, like her, with patched-up gear and an overconfident expression.
He noticed her, grinning. "Didn't expect to see anyone else out here. What are you looking for?"
Lyra tensed. "Herbs," she said shortly, hoping he would leave. She didn't want to risk him getting too curious about her work or her methods.
The boy chuckled. "Oh, that's not real adventurer's work, is it? Why don't you come help me? I'm hunting for forest rats to bring back for a bounty. Easier to make coin that way."
Lyra shook her head, focusing on gathering the heartleaf. "I don't mind herbs," she replied evenly, though inside, her nerves were wound tight. She wasn't interested in forest rats, and she didn't want this stranger's company. She couldn't afford to get sidetracked.
The boy huffed, shrugged, and eventually wandered off, muttering something under his breath. Lyra exhaled in relief, watching him disappear back into the forest.
With only two herbs left, she made her way to a sunlit clearing, scanning the ground for the last two items on her list. Widow's lace was supposed to have delicate white blossoms, while starflame had bright orange petals. She spotted a cluster of white flowers near a fallen log and recognized the star-shaped blooms of widow's lace. She gathered a handful of blossoms, careful not to crush the delicate flowers.
Only one herb left. Lyra's gaze darted around, searching. The sun was already dipping lower in the sky, and she was running out of time. Just as she was about to give up, she saw a glint of orange in the grass nearby. She rushed over and knelt, her fingers brushing against the soft petals of starflame. Its vibrant color stood out against the green backdrop of the forest.
Gently, she picked a few stems, placing them in her bag with the rest. With her task complete, she turned back toward town, her steps quick and sure.
By the time Lyra returned to Madam Awen's apothecary, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the town. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, her bag filled with the herbs she'd worked so hard to gather.
Madam Awen looked up from her work, raising an eyebrow as Lyra approached. Without a word, Lyra carefully laid each herb on the counter, checking each one off the list.
The old woman's sharp eyes inspected the plants with approval. She nodded, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "Not bad," she said gruffly. "For someone so young."
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a single silver coin, pressing it into Lyra's palm. The cool metal felt heavier than she'd expected, as if it carried the weight of her day's work.
"Thank you," Lyra said, her voice quiet but filled with gratitude. She clutched the coin, feeling a surge of pride. This small victory was another step closer to the future she dreamed of.
As she walked back to her hidden nook under the archway where Emmy was waiting, Lyra's heart was light. This small success fueled her determination to continue, and she knew that with each day, she was getting closer to the life she wanted for her and her sister.