The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, casting a golden glow over Orenvale's bustling streets. Kael stood at the edge of the guild's warehouse, his heart pounding in anticipation. The task he had accepted the night before was simple in description—deliver a shipment of spices to the southern markets—but the implications were anything but. If he succeeded, he would earn the trust of the Merchant's Guild. If he failed, his reputation would be in tatters, and the road ahead would become much more difficult.
Kael shifted from foot to foot, the cool morning air biting at his skin. The market square was still quiet, with only a handful of early risers preparing their stalls for the day's trade. The clink of metal from the blacksmith's forge and the murmur of hushed conversations filled the air. It was a scene Kael had witnessed countless times before, but today felt different—today, he was part of it.
A tall man in a weathered cloak approached, carrying a wooden crate packed with delicate jars. He didn't speak at first, but Kael recognized him as one of the guild's trusted couriers. The man gave a brief nod in acknowledgment, gesturing toward the cart that stood ready to be loaded with the shipment.
"The goods are packed and ready to go," the courier said gruffly. "But you'll need to be quick. The route's dangerous, and you've got a narrow window to reach the southern market before the storms hit. If you're not there in time, it could ruin the deal."
Kael nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had been warned about the storms that rolled in quickly across the southern plains, but he hadn't expected them to be this close. He'd heard stories of merchants being caught in them, their goods ruined, and their livelihoods lost in a matter of hours. But backing out now wasn't an option.
"I understand," Kael replied, his voice steady. "I'll handle it."
The courier handed him a bundle of parchment—papers detailing the goods, the route, and the delivery schedule. "Follow the path to the south, then take the eastward trail after you cross the river. There's a small inn along the way where you can rest, but don't get comfortable. The sooner you're there, the better."
With that, the courier turned and walked off, leaving Kael standing by the cart. His mule was ready, and the contents of the shipment—crates of fine spices, carefully wrapped in cloth—were secured tightly.
Kael took a deep breath and climbed into the cart. He had a long day ahead of him, but he wasn't about to let fear cloud his judgment. His father had often said that every merchant must face the unknown, but the ones who succeeded were those who could stay calm in the face of it.
As the mule began to pull the cart forward, Kael felt the weight of the responsibility settle on his shoulders. This wasn't just about delivering spices—it was about proving himself. He had to show the guild, and everyone else, that he could handle the trials of the trade. This journey could be the beginning of something much bigger. Or it could be his downfall.
The road stretched out before him, and the world seemed to open up with every passing step. The sun climbed higher, and the day grew warmer, but Kael knew that the calm wouldn't last. He was about to face his first true test.
Hours passed as Kael made his way south, the landscape slowly shifting from the fertile fields surrounding Orenvale to the more rugged terrain of the southern plains. The wind picked up, and the once-clear skies began to cloud over. Kael glanced nervously at the sky, his pace quickening.
Just as the path began to narrow, Kael spotted the river ahead. The water shimmered in the distance, winding its way through the valley. He had reached the point where the trail split, the eastward path leading deeper into the plains and toward the inn where he could rest.
But as he approached the riverbank, Kael noticed something strange. There was no sign of the usual crossing—no bridge, no ferryman. Just a stretch of rushing water, too deep and fast to cross without assistance.
His heart sank. He'd followed the guild's instructions carefully, but now, it seemed, the path had changed. The river had swollen from recent rains, and the usual crossing was no longer passable. The realization hit him hard: the delivery would be delayed, and he had no time to waste.
Kael didn't hesitate. He guided the mule to the river's edge and surveyed the area. There had to be another way. Time was running out.
The sound of hooves behind him caused Kael to turn sharply. A rider—a man dressed in dark leathers—approached at a gallop, his horse kicking up dust as it neared. The rider slowed and pulled to a stop, eyeing Kael and the blocked river with curiosity.
"You're not going to make it across that way," the rider said with a sharp tone. "Storm's coming fast, and the river's only going to rise. You'll be stuck here if you wait too long."
Kael narrowed his eyes, sizing up the stranger. He wasn't sure if this was another test or a stroke of luck.
"What do you suggest?" Kael asked, trying to remain composed.
The rider paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the river before meeting Kael's gaze. "Follow me," he said, turning his horse and beginning to ride along the riverbank.
Kael hesitated. Trust was a delicate thing in this line of work, and he had no way of knowing if this man was a friend or a foe. But with time slipping away, he had little choice. He grabbed the reins of his mule and followed the rider into the unknown.