The stone walls of Sasau loomed in the distance, their weathered edges casting long shadows beneath the waning afternoon sun. The city was a hub of trade, with its tall spires and bustling market square drawing merchants from across the region. Smoke curled from the chimneys of blacksmith forges, and the sound of distant hammers rang through the air.
But for Dikun Silver, the grandeur of Sasau offered little comfort.
The caravan creaked forward through the city gates, the guards barely giving it a second glance. Word had likely traveled of the attack, but no cheers welcomed their return. There were no songs of glory for those who simply survived.
Two men had fallen on the road. Guards who had laughed and shared stories only a day before. Now, they were wrapped in bloodied cloth, their bodies bound for the undertaker.
Dikun had won the fight, but victory had left a bitter taste.
---
A Mercenary's Pay
"Unload the goods!" Garon barked as the caravan entered the bustling market square. Merchants called out their wares, the smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread mingling in the air.
Dikun, weary and still stained with dried blood, followed the caravan master to a corner where a burly man waited. The merchant's fine linen tunic was embroidered with gold trim, and he jingled a pouch of silver as Garon approached.
"Delayed, but not empty-handed," Garon grunted, gesturing to the surviving carts. "Your goods, as promised."
The merchant gave a nod, inspecting the crates with a practiced eye. After a moment, he tossed the coin pouch to Garon. "Fair enough. The bailiff will hear of your service."
Dikun stood silently, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. He had no expectations of praise, nor did he desire it. But his eyes never left the silver pouch.
"Your pay," Garon said, turning to Dikun. He withdrew ten silver coins and placed them in Dikun's palm. "You earned it, lad. Most run at the first sign of trouble. You fought. That means something."
Dikun nodded. "Thank you."
It wasn't much — barely enough to last a week — but it was his. The first coin of many.
"Take my advice," Garon continued, his voice low. "Don't linger in one place. Work when you can, fight when you must. The road may be cruel, but it's honest."
With that, Garon turned away, his voice barking orders to the remaining guards.
Dikun pocketed the coins. The ache in his limbs reminded him of every swing, every desperate clash. But beneath the pain, there was a strange sense of purpose.
He had survived. And that, for now, was enough.
---
A Chance Encounter
The city streets were alive with movement. Merchants hawked their wares beneath colorful awnings, and the laughter of children echoed through the alleys. Dikun moved through the crowd, the weight of his coin pouch resting against his side.
But even as the noise surrounded him, his mind remained restless.
The image of the fallen guards haunted him — their lifeless eyes, the crimson stains in the dirt. He had fought to survive, but survival came with a cost.
Would it always be this way?
"Lost in thought, are you?"
Dikun turned sharply at the voice. A young woman stood before him, her arms crossed. Her brown hair was pulled into a loose braid, and her leather tunic bore the stains of travel. A dagger rested on her hip, though she wore no armor.
"Apologies," Dikun replied. "I didn't see you."
The woman smirked. "Few do, until it's too late. You've got the look of someone fresh from the road. First taste of blood?"
Dikun's jaw tightened. "Something like that."
She nodded knowingly. "It never leaves you. But don't let it weigh you down. There's more to this life than swinging a sword."
"And what would you know of it?"
"More than you think." She extended a hand. "The name's Elira. No titles, no banners. Just another wanderer trying to make her way."
Dikun hesitated, then clasped her hand firmly. "Dikun Silver."
"Silver, is it?" Elira's grin widened. "Ambitious. I like that."
He wasn't sure whether she was mocking him or intrigued. Either way, the woman's presence was disarming.
"If you're looking for work, you might try the Boar's Head Inn," Elira suggested. "Plenty of rumors, plenty of opportunities. Some even pay well."
"And what about you? What brings you to Sasau?"
Elira shrugged. "Coin, adventure. Maybe both. The road's kinder when you've got someone to watch your back."
With a final grin, she stepped away, disappearing into the crowd.
Dikun watched her go, a lingering sense of curiosity settling over him. The road ahead remained uncertain, but perhaps he wouldn't walk it alone.
---
A New Path
Night had fallen by the time Dikun reached the Boar's Head Inn. The warm glow of lanterns spilled onto the cobbled street, and the hum of drunken laughter carried through the air. Inside, the smell of roasted meat mingled with the tang of cheap ale.
He found a quiet corner, the tension in his muscles easing as he leaned against the wall. His silver coins still weighed heavily in his pouch. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Tomorrow, he would seek new work. Perhaps another caravan, or a merchant in need of an escort.
But Dikun knew one thing with certainty.
He was no longer the frightened orphan of Rattay.
He was Dikun Silver. And his rise had only just begun.