Lay the Dragon v2 (18+ NSFW)

Arland awoke early the following morning. He turned his head and saw Leera sleeping peacefully. He grinned and slid out from under her, before standing, turning, and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. She stirred but didn't wake. He went to the bathroom and quickly washed up, washing their mixed fluids from his body before quickly dressing.

He walked back into the room and wrote a note for her, "Leera, I set off early this morning. The guildmaster had something for me, so I'm taking that job. I'll see you when I return. Be strong and stay safe." He left the note on the desk before gathering his pack and leaving the room.

***

As Arland entered the guildhall, he found Valden waiting at the counter for him.

"Good morning, Arland. You certainly took your time getting here."

"Sorry, Guildmaster. Leera and I were up late. You have a quest for me?"

Valden shook his head, "I don't. Exanther informed me that Beirut, the guildmaster in the Devilwood Wilds does, however. You'll have to head over to Gelala, the capital city there. Tell Beirut I sent you. He'll set you up with a quest."

"Oh... I was hoping for a quick break. Traveling to the capital of a new territory is a bit much."

Valden shook his head, "Sorry, Arland. It's a month-long journey, even at a forced march pace. They need you ASAP."

"Can I ask what the quest is? What can I expect?"

Valden took a breath, "Between here and there, bandits mostly. Maybe the occasional beast. But as for the quest, I'm afraid I can't reveal too much about that."

Arland nodded, turned, and strode from the guild.

As he walked through the city streets, he stuck his hand into his purse to check. Twenty coins. Ten gold, five silver, and five copper, if memory served.

He sighed and walked on. It'd be enough to get him to the border, but not much further. Maybe he could hitch a ride with a passing farmer, or a merchant caravan, or...

He stopped his train of thought as he saw a caravan preparing to set out. He made his way over, "Excuse me! Is the Caravan master somewhere nearby?"

A pair of men stopped loading their goods and turned to Arland as he approached. One of them shook his head and turned back to his task. the other spoke, "The large, gold-trimmed carriage at the front. He's away for now, but if you stick around, he should be back within the hour."

Arland nodded and made his way to the mentioned carriage.

***

Arland waited near the side of the carriage for the owner to return. Eventually, a tall, lanky man with a pointed goatee and angular face walked over.

"You wished to speak with me?"

Arland looked up, "Aye. I'm looking to head towards Gelala. If you're heading that way, I'd like to sign up."

The man shook his head, "We've got plenty of guards. I don't need anymore."

Arland held up his hand as the man moved to walk by, "You're not even willing to negotiate?"

The man stopped and sighed, "There's nothing to negotiate. We had a budget for fifteen guards, we have fifteen."

"Such a shame you'd turn down a swordmaster for whatever rabble you got from the pub."

"Swordmaster? You? You've barely begun growing your whiskers."

Arland held up his guild card, "I just attained the title yesterday. From Leera, the elf."

The man squinted, before his eyes shot wide, "You're the kid from the arena yesterday!"

"That's me."

"Alright, you've got my attention. What's your offer?"

"Five gold and myself. I pay to ride as a passenger. Should we be attacked, I'll work with the guards."

The man stroked his goatee, "So you pay me and you guard us? What's the downside?"

"Feed me. And I don't take a turn on watch."

"Deal," The man held out his hand to shake. Arland ignored it and placed five shining gold coins in his palm instead.

***

Leera opened her eyes and immediately noticed the cold of the bed where he had been lying. Her heart ached as she realized he'd already left. She sighed and kicked off the blankets, before standing and walking over to the desk to dress. Her eye caught the note and she quickly read over it before pulling on her tunic and walking into the bathroom. She relieved the pressure in her bladder, brushed her hair, and pulled on her trousers and boots, then walked down the stairs to order a brief breakfast.

She made her way to the guild, a small frown on her face. She walked in and made her way to the counter, where a clerk stood.

"Velden in today?"

The clerk nodded and stepped away briefly, "He's in, Miss Leera."

The elf walked around the counter and into the office.

"Leera, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Arland. What quest did you give him?"

"You know I can't share that, Leera. Your team disbanded this morning."

Leera sat in the chair across the desk from him, "Valden, you gotta give me something."

Valden sighed deeply and sat back, "He signed up with a caravan heading east. I can't give any more than that. Whatever you've got on your mind, don't do it. It's his trial. Leave him be."

Leera looked at a map on the wall of the office, "East, huh...? Gelala. He's heading to the guild in the Devilwood Wilds. And the only S-rank quest in that area is hunting a pair of trolls."

"Close. There's no rule saying I have to assign an S-rank that's been posted."

"It hasn't been posted yet?"

"Not here. It's been on their board for a while. I guess you'll have to wait and ask when he returns."

Leera stood and walked to the door, "I'm required to do no such thing. If he returns first, tell him I'll be back in two years to this date."

Valden watched her leave, before marking a note on his calendar.

***

Nury stretched and made her way down from her cave to the small pond and river. She drank her fill, then lay in the grass. She was feeling nostalgic today. She stretched, flexing her claws, digging them into the soft earth below her, before flexing her wings and lashing her tail.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky as clouds flitted overhead. She had spent so much time alone. She stood and shook the dirt off herself before turning back towards her cave.

She desperately craved interaction with others. Not for the first nor last time, she lamented her life as a dragon. Those damned-able humans hated her simply for her species. Her thoughts turned back to Arland, "And that little brat... He promised he'd come to find me when he was older, but he hasn't shown face nor tail around here. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't know how lonely this existence actually is."

She sighed and walked back to her cave, where she curled up and went back to sleep.

***

Arland, the caravan master, and his guards walked through a pass in the Devilwood Wilds. A few goblins and kobolds attacked, but they were easily beaten back.

Their first real issue came when the vanguard reported a tipped carriage in the middle of the road. The caravan master looked left and right, trying to find a way out of this.

Arland walked up to the side of the carriage, "What's wrong?"

The lanky man looked down, "Tipped carriage blocking the road. I'd stake my share of this caravan that it's a trap."

Arland grinned, "Allow me. I'll investigate. If it's a trap, I'll handle it. If not, I'll report back and get some help clearing it."

The master held Arland's gaze for an extended period, before he nodded, "Fine."

Arland made his way to the carriage and began looking around. He found the occupants missing, though there were three dead guards around the front. He knelt and felt them. Cold. Dead for at least a day, he'd guess. Their blood had dried and begun coagulating.

He stood and drew his blade, "Come on out, you lot. I know you're there."

A group of men and women stepped out, all with weapons drawn. They approached, slowly, "How the hell did you know?"

Arland rolled his eyes, "You lot don't have an original thought, do you? A tipped carriage, leaving the old dead bodies around here. I'm willing to bet you've even still got the occupants tied up nearby. Hoping for a larger catch, were you? Might've been better to be rid of this carriage and attack at that bend there," He pointed his sword at a bend in the road just ahead.

"And what makes you such an expert? You're just a damned caravan guard! Leave the bandit-ing to the bandits!"

Arland smirked as he took his stance, his left hand behind his back, gripping the handle of his dagger, with his sword level with the ground, "How about we get this show on the road? I grow weary of your tiresome prattle."

The leader of the bandits stepped forward, raised his sword, and charged in. Arland dodged right, swinging his sword towards the man's neck. The man was too slow and the strike connected.

"Get 'im!" One of the bandits yelled.

Arland ducked as the group of bandits rushed in. He spun and slashed the nearest man across the side, then stepped in and struck the man behind him in the face. He stepped back and swung again.

Two bandits leapt into the air, their swords aimed to end Arland's life.

With a deft movement, Arland drew his dagger and deflected both swords wide, before he drove his dagger into the chest of the man on his left and his sword through the belly of the man on his right.

Both fell and the remaining men pulled back, looking at their fallen comrades, then back at Arland, who stood, his bloody blade and dagger both at the ready.

"You'll pay for this!" One of them yelled.

Arland lowered, ready to spring into action, "I'll pay you. In blood."

The remaining four looked at each other, before the group rushed in, weapons high, to end Arland's life.

Arland rushed forward before dropping into a slide. He cut the hamstring of one, before turning and stabbing another through his knee. He continued, ripping the dagger through the side of the knee.

As that man fell screaming, holding his knee, Arland slashed at the thigh of the next.

The final target got a lucky strike, his sword connecting with Arland's arm. His luck ended there, as the dulled and chipped blade found the boiled leather of the vambrace. Arland flashed a grim grin as he lashed out, rapidly cutting all four throats with his dagger and sword combo.

He stood and sheathed his blades before walking through the underbrush on both sides. When he was satisfied, he returned to the caravan, "It's clear. I need to clean my blades if your men can clear the obstruction."

The caravan master balked, "You said you'd help if it wasn't a trap!"

Arland raised his eyebrow, "You're right. I did. And the fact that I'm not should tell you..." He trailed off.

The older man grunted, "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Go clean. We can clear it."

Arland walked off and began cleaning his blades, running plain alcohol over the blades before he reapplied some protective oil. He also offered his scabbards the same treatment, having placed the bloodied blades in them.

By the time he was finished, the caravan was ready to move again. As it rolled on, the caravan master came back to speak with him.

"Hey, you cleared all of them?"

"The warm ones. The three cold ones were already dead."

"And what of the occupants?"

Arland's breath caught in his throat. He'd completely spaced that. He hopped off the caravan, "Keep going! I'll catch up!" he called back before running off into the forest, following the footprints of the bandits.