The road east of Highridge narrowed into a crooked trail, flanked on both sides by dense pine forest. The trees rose like dark spears into the gray morning sky, their trunks slick with dew, their boughs whispering faintly in the breeze. The air smelled of resin and damp earth.
Arya walked just ahead of me, her cloak drawn tight and her eyes scanning the underbrush. The bandit leader's bounty notice was folded neatly in her satchel, but we both knew the paper was the least important part of this hunt. This was our first guild-sanctioned task. Our first real test.
"Quiet," she murmured, raising one gloved hand.
I froze, my fingers resting lightly on the hilt of my new guild blade.
From somewhere ahead came the faintest sound of metal clinking—a careless scabbard striking against armor. Then another sound, lower and rougher: a man's voice cursing under his breath.
Arya crouched low, motioning for me to follow her into the trees. We slipped off the trail and moved silently through the needles and fallen branches, the forest swallowing our footsteps.
Soon we came to a small clearing.
A rough camp had been set up here, a few lean-to shelters arranged around a smoky fire pit. Four men in mismatched leathers stood near the fire, talking quietly. I recognized the leader from the bounty poster: tall, broad-shouldered, with a mane of red hair and a jagged scar across his cheek.
He carried himself with the swagger of a man who thought no one in the world could touch him.
Arya sank into the shadows beside me, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"That's him," she whispered.
I nodded once.
We didn't have much time to plan. The leader suddenly turned toward the woods and called out:
"You two! Get the perimeter checked before the next patrol!"
Two of the bandits peeled away from the group, heading toward the edge of the clearing. Right toward where we were hiding.
Arya's fingers closed around my sleeve.
"Take the one on the left," she breathed. "I'll take the right."
And then she was gone, melting into the trees like smoke.
I drew my blade slowly, feeling its weight steady me.
The bandits crashed through the undergrowth without care, still muttering to each other. When they passed just a few feet from me, I struck.
My blade flashed in the dim light and bit deep into the man's ribs before he could cry out. He stiffened, a wet gasp escaping his lips, then crumpled silently to the forest floor.
Across the clearing, Arya struck just as quickly, her dagger flashing in and out of her opponent's throat before he even realized she was there.
Two down.
But the red-haired leader had noticed something.
"Perimeter!" he barked, turning toward the woods. "Where the hell are you two—"
That was when Arya stepped into the clearing.
She didn't even try to hide anymore.
"You're surrounded," she called, her voice cool and steady.
The leader froze, then barked a laugh.
"Surrounded? There's two of you!"
He gestured to the other two bandits still near the fire.
"Kill them!"
The fight was fast and brutal.
One of the bandits charged me with a crude axe raised high. I sidestepped his swing and drove my blade up through his chest, feeling it catch between his ribs before I ripped it free.
Arya tangled with the other, her movements precise and lethal. She dodged his dagger and opened his belly with a single swipe, then kicked him backward into the fire pit.
That left only the leader.
He glared at the two of us, drawing his sword with a hiss of steel.
"You've got guts," he growled, circling us warily. "I'll give you that."
I raised my blade and squared my shoulders.
"Drop the sword," I said flatly. "You're worth more alive."
But he only spat at my feet.
"Come take it, boy."
I didn't need another invitation.
We clashed in the middle of the clearing, his heavier blade hammering against mine with raw strength. But strength wasn't everything.
I remembered the stranger's lessons—the rhythm of a man's swing, the subtle shift of his hips before he committed.
I let him drive me back, let him think he had the advantage.
Then I caught his next swing on my blade and twisted, opening his side with a sharp, controlled strike.
He roared in pain and stumbled.
Arya darted in from the side, her dagger pressed hard to his throat before he could recover.
"Don't move," she hissed.
For a long moment, he glared between us, his chest heaving, his blood darkening his tunic.
Then he let his sword fall to the ground.
---
We bound his hands and marched him back to the road, the faint light of Highridge glowing on the horizon by the time we reached town.
The guild hall's yard was quiet when we returned, but a few apprentices were still tending the notice board when they saw us coming.
One of them sprinted inside, and a few moments later the tall, broad-shouldered woman from yesterday stepped out to meet us.
Her sharp eyes fell on the captured bandit, then moved to me.
"You did it," she said.
I nodded once.
She reached into her cloak and tossed me a small leather pouch. It clinked as I caught it—silver coins.
"Not bad for your first job," she said. "Go inside. Clean yourselves up. And be ready. More work will come soon."
I glanced at Arya.
She smirked faintly and gave a mock bow.
"Not bad for a rat," she murmured.
I couldn't help but smile.
Not bad at all.
We'd made our first mark.
And it was only the beginning.