The Twice-blessed Paladin

The tavern is buzzing with conversation, and for once, Aldric is at the center of it.

His new armor gleams in the firelight, and his greatsword rests against the table, its black steel catching the flickering glow.

He sits in his usual corner, listening as the other adventurers speak about him.

"You hear about the knight? Cleared out that goblin nest, took down the dire wolves, and handled that orc marauder alone."

"Aye. Doesn't even break a sweat. Damn unsettling if you ask me."

"Some say he's blessed by the gods."

Aldric remains silent, but inwardly, he is pleased.

His gods' names are beginning to resurface.

But as his fame grows, so does a problem.

Black Hollow is a small town—and he has already handled its worst threats.

The guild still has minor requests—bandits, rogue beasts, patrol duties—but nothing that challenges him.

If he wants to continue spreading his gods' names, he must move on.

He needs a bigger city. Bigger problems.

A place where his name will reach more ears.

And as fate would have it, an opportunity is about to present itself.

Aldric doesn't react when a wealthy-looking man strides into the tavern, his expensive robes standing out among the leather-and-metal-clad adventurers.

The man scans the room, his gaze settling on Aldric.

He approaches. "Sir Aldric, I presume?"

Aldric lifts his head slightly. "Yes."

The noble pulls up a chair, ignoring the curious looks from the surrounding adventurers.

"My name is Edric Valthorne—a merchant and landowner in the city of Gildan's Reach."

Aldric mentally notes the surname—Valthorne. A distant relation? Or just coincidence?

"I have been hearing tales of your exploits," Edric continues, resting his hands on the table. "And I have an offer."

Aldric leans back slightly. "Speak."

Edric nods. "Gildan's Reach is not like Black Hollow. It is a city of power, trade, and influence. But it is also a place where danger lurks in the shadows."

"Recently, there have been… disappearances. People taken from their homes. Merchants vanishing on the roads. The city guard is either unwilling or unable to act."

Aldric narrows his eyes. "And you think I can solve this?"

Edric smiles slightly. "I think you are the only one who can."

He places a heavy pouch of gold on the table. "I will personally cover the cost of your travel. And if you accept the job, there will be more gold waiting for you."

Aldric considers.

A larger city. More people. More influence.

A new stage to spread his gods' names.

He nods. "I accept."

Aldric returns to the guild hall, where the clerk raises an eyebrow at his announcement.

"Leaving already?" she asks, updating his file.

"I've outgrown this town," Aldric replies.

Dain, the guildmaster, grunts in approval. "Figured you would. You're too damn good at your job." He leans back. "Gildan's Reach is different, though. Bigger city, bigger dangers. You'll be dealing with more than just monsters."

"Politics?" Aldric asks.

Dain smirks. "You learn fast." He slides a new token across the counter.

"Guild transfer papers," he explains. "Show this at the Gildan's Reach Guild Hall, and you'll be registered there under your current rank."

Aldric takes the token.

Dain eyes him. "Word of advice? Keep your wits about you. Big cities aren't like Black Hollow. People there don't always fight with swords. Sometimes, they fight with words."

Aldric nods. "Understood."

With that, he leaves the guild for the last time.

Aldric's last visit in Black Hollow is to the blacksmith.

The burly man wipes his hands as Aldric enters. "Heard you're heading out. City life now, huh?"

Aldric nods. "I'll need a final addition to my gear."

The blacksmith chuckles. "Already figured as much." He turns and retrieves something from the forge.

A steel-plated cloak clasp—engraved with the sigil of a sun and a skull.

Aldric's hand stills as he takes it. "You knew?"

The blacksmith smirks. "I may not be a scholar, but I know old symbols when I see 'em. You're spreading their names, aren't you?"

Aldric says nothing.

The blacksmith claps him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't snitch. If you're bringing back old gods, well—might be the world needs them."

Aldric nods, clasping the symbol onto his new armor.

"Thank you," he says.

"Don't die in the big city, knight," the blacksmith grins. "Or do. Might suit you."

Aldric chuckles.

Then he leaves Black Hollow behind.

Aldric rides toward the city as the sun sets behind him.

He does not look back.

Ahead lies a larger city, a greater challenge.

And the next step in restoring his gods' names to history.