The sun crawled lazily over the mist-soaked roofs, painting the town gold and grey.
Kyle sat by the inn's window, one leg over the other, finishing the last of his breakfast — eggs, bread, and a cheap coffee that tasted like burned dirt but did its job.
Dave stood behind the counter, polishing mugs that didn't need polishing, eyes darting every few seconds toward Kyle.
Kyle didn't even look up. "Alright, Dave. Just say it before your head explodes."
Dave huffed, setting the mug down. "There's a caravan leaving for the capital in a few hours. Headed straight to the main city gates — good route, guarded, easy coin. Thought you'd be interested."
Kyle smirked, biting a piece of bread. "You thought right."
Dave folded his arms. "So you'll go?"
"Didn't say that." Kyle leaned back, stretching. "Just said you thought right. Big difference."
Dave groaned. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"Been told worse." He stood, tossed a few coins on the table, and yawned. "Pack up my stuff from the room, will ya? I'll go grab my sword from Bronn before we head out."
Dave's brow twitched. "I'm the innkeeper, not your damn servant."
Kyle smiled lazily. "Yeah, but you're also my friend, so you'll do it anyway."
"Unbelievable…" Dave muttered, but there was no bite to it. He waved him off with a resigned grunt. "Fine. But if I find one of your bloody knives under the bed again—"
"Then consider it a souvenir," Kyle said, stepping out into the street.
The air outside was crisp, carrying that after-rain scent of wet dirt and smoke from forges already burning. Kyle walked down the cobbled street, heading for the clang and rhythm echoing from the end of the lane.
The blacksmith's workshop was alive — sparks flying, the old dwarf behind the anvil hammering with a precision that came only from centuries of stubborn pride.
Bronn looked up when Kyle ducked under the doorway.
"Well, look who decided to crawl outta the tavern for once," Bronn grumbled, sweat rolling down his temple.
Kyle grinned. "And miss your charming personality? Never."
Bronn snorted, setting the hammer aside. He wiped his hands and reached under the counter, pulling out a wrapped blade. "You talk too much for a man who's supposed to be scary."
Kyle unwrapped it slowly. The blade gleamed even in the dim forge-light — edge restored, surface etched with faint runes that pulsed like breath under the metal.He turned it in his hand, admiring the craft. "Huh. You weren't kidding. Thought you'd just slap a shine on it and call it a day."
Bronn crossed his arms, smug. "Don't underestimate a dwarf, boy. Those runes'll hold through hellfire. Cost me a night's sleep, mind you."
Kyle smirked. "Didn't think you slept anyway."
"Less talk, more payment."
Kyle tossed him a pouch that landed solidly in Bronn's palm. The dwarf peeked inside, grunted approvingly. "Finally paying on time, eh? World's ending, must be."
"Nah," Kyle said, sliding the sword into its sheath. "Just heading out again. Thought I'd leave you with a good impression before I vanish for another few decades."
Bronn's brow furrowed, his tone softening a little. "Leaving, huh? Thought you liked it here."
Kyle looked around the forge — the smoke, the warmth, the clutter that felt like life.
"I did," he said quietly. "But you know how it goes. Can't stay too long anywhere. People start asking questions I don't wanna answer."
Bronn nodded, understanding more than he said. "Then take care of yourself, lad. World's changing again."
Kyle smiled faintly. "It always is."
He turned toward the open street, rain clouds breaking apart above the rooftops, sunlight spilling in stripes through the smoke.
As he walked away, the sound of hammer and flame faded behind him — another town, another memory left to drift into the past.
By the time Kyle got back, the morning crowd had thickened — travelers shouting, horses snorting, wagons creaking under stacks of crates. The smell of wet hay and oil filled the air.
Dave stood near the gate, arms crossed, watching over a group that looked like they'd been pulled from a tavern brawl lineup — mercs, adventurers, and the occasional fool with too much confidence.
He spotted Kyle immediately. "'Bout damn time. Thought you'd changed your mind."
Kyle adjusted his cloak, walking over with a lazy grin. "Nah, just saying goodbye to my favorite dwarf."
Dave sighed. "You've got favorites in every town. Makes it hard to believe any of 'em like you back."
Kyle shrugged. "Charm's a curse."
The older man ignored that and pointed toward a round-bellied merchant loading boxes onto a carriage. "That's Merrin Galt, spice dealer. He's the one paying for this trip. Cargo's worth more than a noble's wardrobe, so don't let anyone sneeze near it."
Kyle squinted. "He looks like he could pay for ten more of these runs."
"He does. That's why he hires muscle like this lot."
The others gathered nearby were already checking gear — a few swordsmen, one mage fiddling with a wand that kept fizzing at the tip, a pair of twins in light armor, and a big merc with a scar that looked like a bad memory.
Dave clapped Kyle on the shoulder. "Try not to get bored on the road, huh? And don't scare off the new ones with your stories."
"C'mon," Kyle said, smirking, "they love me once they realize I'm the funny one."
"Yeah, 'funny' isn't what they'll call you when you start talking about death over dinner."
Kyle chuckled under his breath and turned toward the group.
The merc leader — the scarred one — gave him a once-over. "You the last one?"
"Guess so," Kyle said. "Name's Kyle. I don't bite unless paid to."
The mage, a red-haired kid barely out of training, asked, "You good with a sword or spells?"
Kyle tapped the hilt over his shoulder. "I prefer things that bleed when I hit them."
"Ah," the mage said, smiling nervously, "a swordsman. Great."
Kyle smirked, then looked at Merrin, who was double-checking his crates. "We moving soon, boss?"
"Soon as the horses stop acting like they saw ghosts," the merchant grumbled. "Damn animals hate this weather."
Kyle looked up. The sky was clearing, thin sunlight slicing through the last bits of cloud. "Good omen," he said softly.
Dave, who'd lingered longer than he'd admit, called out, "Try not to cause a mess this time, will you?"
Kyle tossed him a small pouch without turning around. "Payment for the stay. And for putting up with me."
Dave caught it, weighing it in his hand. "It's more than you owe."
"Call it prepayment," Kyle said, smiling faintly. "For the next time I come around."
Dave's eyes softened a little. "Just don't take another damn century to show up."
Kyle gave a lazy two-finger salute and climbed into the caravan's rear wagon.
The wheels creaked, the reins snapped, and soon they were moving — a slow rhythm of hooves against damp dirt, the town shrinking behind them.
He leaned back, eyes half-closed, watching the horizon stretch ahead.
Another road. Another story. Another set of fools chasing something they don't understand.
And somewhere, far beyond the forests and hills, the faint shimmer of the Summoning Flare still lingered in the sky — unseen by most, but not by him.