Valoria's Adventurer's Guild was always bustling. 

Even at dawn, the air inside the Guild hall was thick with noise — laughter, shouts, and the clinking of mugs over stories shared. 

To the left of the main door, Copper and Iron-ranked adventurers gathered around the fire, swapping tales of yesterday's hunts. On the opposite side, Silver and Gold ranks gathered in more selective clusters, muttering about recent rumors, monster sightings, and ambitions for the higher ranks.

At the far end of the room, a heavy oak counter with a long line of adventurers framed the taskmasters' desks, where clerks (often called Taskmasters) in blue and silver tabards took reports of completed jobs, filed grievances, and assigned new quests. The walls, dark and burnished from years of smoke and spilled ale, bore marks of weaponry, odd herbs, and a vast notice board overflowing with parchment.

The door swung open, and Caelann strode in, his boots covered in dust from the road. He took a breath, letting the liveliness of the Guild settle around him. The smell of old ale and roasting meat mingled with hints of steel and leather, familiar and comforting.

"Oi, Caelann!" called out a stout, balding adventurer with a bristly beard. He was seated near the fire, tankard raised. "Heard you got into it with those ogres last week!"

Caelann nodded, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Almost had me, but let's just say I was smarter, Boric."

"Ha! Next time, you invite an expert like me to go with ya!" Boric winked before diving back into his own tale.

Caelann made his way through the crowd to the notice board, his fingers tracing over a handful of posted quests. There were plenty of routine requests—clearing out rats, gathering rare herbs—but he wanted something more substantial.

"BEAR AT LARGE NEAR MILLER'S GROVE – Capture or Dispatch."

"Hmm," he muttered, pulling the parchment down for a closer look. It wasn't a major job, but it could bring in a few extra coins.

Before he could turn to head out, a familiar, scrappy voice piped up beside him.

"Off to wrestle with the local bear, Caelann?" It was a Silver-ranked elf who had bested him in a spar only a week ago. She smirked, adjusting her bow.

"Someone's got to keep the village folk safe," he shot back, grinning. "Especially when the finest adventurers are off slaying dragons."

"Drinks on me, then, if you survive." She snorted and stepped back toward her group, leaving him to his task.

With the quest parchment in hand, Caelann made his way to Miller's Grove, a small farmstead on the outskirts of the city. It was a good half-hour's walk, the sun setting in a blaze of orange over the distant mountains.

"'Bout time one of you showed up!" barked the miller, an elderly man with a well-worn cap, wringing his hands. He stood beside his henhouse, glancing nervously at the treeline.

Caelann raised an eyebrow. "Trouble's been that bad?"

"Bah! That bear's not just stealing chickens. It's been breaking fences, scaring the livestock. Last night, my daughter saw it roaming by the barn! I'll be in ruin if this keeps up," he said, his voice barely masking a tremor.

"Well, let's make sure that doesn't happen." Caelann looked around. "Know where it usually goes?"

"Near the old hunter's trail by the hills. Last I saw, it was headed toward the southern trees. But don't try to tame it — it's a monster, that one." The miller shook his head, muttering about adventurers and their bravado.

Caelann offered a quick nod and set off down the path, determined. As he moved along the trail, his eyes scanned the ground, picking out paw prints in the mud. The tracks led him through a dense patch of trees and over rocky inclines, until he reached a small clearing nestled against a mossy hillside.

At the center of the clearing was a makeshift den — overturned logs, branches, and brush piled high in a mound. Inside, he caught a glimpse of the bear's dark, heavy shape, huffing softly.

"Alright," Caelann whispered to himself, strategizing. "Let's try to do this the smart way."

Carefully, he pulled out a length of rope and crafted a snare trap, positioning it just at the den's entrance. He backed away, hands gripping the end of the rope as he hid behind a nearby tree. One sound, he thought, and that bear would come barreling out, right into the snare.

He picked up a stone and tossed it near the den. It clattered against a log. Instantly, the bear's head snapped up, beady eyes narrowing. Slowly, it lumbered toward the entrance, sniffing the air.

"Just a little closer..." Caelann muttered, muscles tense, waiting.

But instead of stepping into the trap, the bear took a sharp turn, its bulk crashing through the opposite side of the den, its powerful shoulders shaking off branches as if they were twigs. Caelann's plan unraveled in an instant, and he realized he had one choice left: to fight.

He drew his sword, stepping out from behind the tree. The bear's eyes met his, and it growled, pawing the ground, ready to charge.

"Alright, furball," he said, brandishing his blade, "you want a piece of me?"

The bear lunged, and Caelann rolled to the side, dodging a swing of its massive paw. He brought his sword down against its side, grazing fur but missing any serious hit. The bear turned, swiping at him again, this time close enough to tear his sleeve.

In a swift counter, Caelann feinted left, then swung right, thrusting his sword into the bear's shoulder. It let out a deafening roar, shaking the trees, but staggered back, weakening. With a final thrust, Caelann managed to bring it down, panting as he took a step back to catch his breath.

"Not as easy as it looked on paper," he muttered, wiping his brow.

...

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the kingdom of Valoria, warming the bustling streets as he made his way back toward the city's center. 

The guards at the gate recognized him instantly, giving him a nod and an easy wave as they swung open the doors. He whistled a cheerful tune, the weight of his latest trophy already feeling a little lighter as he stepped into the heart of Valoria.

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakeries as he passed, mingling with the aromas of sizzling meat from the street vendors setting up their stands. He stopped briefly at one to buy a savory pie, savoring each bite as he watched merchants haggle over bolts of fabric and farmers trade crates of vegetables. 

A group of children darted out from a nearby alleyway, laughing and calling after one another. One boy spotted him, his eyes widening with excitement.

"Hey, Caelann!" the boy called, tugging his friend by the sleeve. "Thanks for getting Scruffy out of that tree the other day!"

The children crowded around, offering quick, grateful smiles before dashing off again, leaving Caelann chuckling as he brushed crumbs from his hands. Life in Valoria was always full of surprises — from the daily hum of traders calling out their wares to the street performers entertaining passersby with a jig or tune.

Finally, he spotted the Adventurers Guild, a large stone building with iron-bound doors and an emblem of crossed swords hanging above the entrance. He entered, weaving past adventurers clustered around the task board, excitedly discussing quests or boasting about their latest exploits.

He made his way to the front desk and dropped the bear's paw on the taskmaster's counter, where it landed with a solid thud. The taskmaster barely blinked, though a nod of approval flickered over his face.

"Well done, Caelann," the taskmaster said, marking the quest as completed in his ledger. "One more job done, eh?"

Caelann chuckled. "A couple more to go before Diamond!"

The taskmaster chuckled. "A couple THOUSAND more."

He was just about finished collecting his pay when the sounds of horses clattered outside. The crowd murmured as a grand carriage had just been spotted outside the Guild, its doors gleaming with intricate carvings. 

...

The polished carriage pulled up, adorned with the banners of the Talassa crest — an eagle, wings outstretched, clutching a sword in one talon and a rose in the other. The Royal House of Talassa's symbol was well-known to all who resided in Valoria. And within this carriage was none other than the Princess Elowyn Talassa herself.

As the royal servants swung open the carriage door, the marketplace stilled. Merchants paused mid-bargain, children clutched their mothers' skirts, and all eyes turned to the princess as she stepped out. Her silver hair shimmered in the late sunlight, and her ocean-blue eyes were as piercing and serene as Valoria's rivers. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as people bowed in respect.

Princess Elowyn walked forward with a purpose, unbothered by the whispers or the attentive gazes. Her mind was on one thing, and one thing only—the person she'd come to see.

Inside the Guild, Caelann was busy tearing into a meal that looked nearly as big as his ambitions. He'd barely finished his first bite when one of the adventurers leaned over with wide eyes.

"Caelann," he whispered, awed. "The Lady Elowyn's here."

"Wait, who—?" Caelann turned sharply, catching sight of Elowyn through the window. The sudden realization hit, and his hand jerked, sending his tankard clattering to the table. "Oh crap..."

He only had time to wipe off the worst of the mess from his sleeve before the doors swung open, and there she was, framed by the doorway and exuding a calm authority that silenced the entire room. Every eye in the Guild was fixed on her, but she didn't so much as glance at any of them.

Elowyn's gaze landed on Caelann. She raised an eyebrow and crossed the room in three measured steps, each one radiating royal poise.

"E-elo" Caelann muttered again, weakly. But before he could bolt, Elowyn grabbed his ear, and with a small, infuriatingly graceful smile, began dragging him toward the door.

"Come along, Caelann. You're not finished with your work just yet," she said with a tone that left no room for argument.

"Hold—ow, wait! Elowyn.. er, my lady, wait, my ear!" he protested, stumbling out of his seat as she towed him along. "I just finished my quest for the day! You can't just come and—"

"Oh, but I can," she interrupted, her voice smooth and unbothered. "And I have a very specific reason for being here." Her gaze flicked to him, steely and unamused. "Something about a... certain incident in my late mother's rose garden?"

"...You heard about that?" he asked, wincing.

"Yes, I did," she replied, her expression taking on a dangerous sort of calm. "And so did the gardener. Fortunately for you, my father hasn't heard or he'd have your head."

"Well, I mean, it adds a little character to it, don't you think? It was getting a little stale—"

"You left a crater the size of a small horse in one of the flower beds, Caelann."

"Well... that sounds like an exaggeration..."

"Not according to the gardener," she said, tugging harder. 

She maneuvered him through the guild doors, past the onlookers who either stifled laughter or stared openly. By now, Caelann had given up his weak protests, and Elowyn pushed him toward the waiting carriage.

"Do I at least get to know what the plan is?" he asked, sighing as he clambered inside.

"The plan is to fix it," she said, matter-of-factly, seating herself across from him. The carriage door closed, and the wheels lurched as the driver directed the horses back toward the palace. Caelann sat back, folding his arms with a reluctant scowl as Elowyn's stern gaze lingered on him.

"You know," he grumbled, "royal contracts are supposed to involve dragons or ancient treasures...not...gardening."

Elowyn's eyes softened just slightly. "Yes, but since this one involves my mother's favorite garden, I'd think you'd want to make it right." Her tone was softer now, her mind seeming to drift back to memories of her mother.

Caelann shifted, running a hand over the back of his neck. "Right. Of course. I didn't mean to...that is, I'll take care of it."

She watched him with a mix of fondness and exasperation. "Good," she replied simply, with a small, satisfied smile.

As the carriage rolled through the bustling streets of Valoria and toward the royal gardens, Caelann couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. 

The palace, the banners, the people who waved or bowed as the carriage passed — it all reminded him of the times he and Elowyn used to race through the palace corridors, back before he'd ever picked up a sword or joined the Guild. Elowyn was the same, yet different now — her presence somehow quieter but stronger, more poised.

When they reached the palace, she stepped out with that same easy grace, nodding for him to follow. He caught sight of the famous rose garden ahead, the fragrant blooms in full color and the neatly manicured hedges giving it an air of quiet beauty. His stomach twisted a little as he noticed the distinctly not-so-manicured patch in the far corner, where he'd accidentally unleashed a bit too much "help" during his last visit.

"So..." he started awkwardly, glancing at the churned-up mess of soil. "Should I, uh...just start shoveling?"

"Start with that," she said, arms folded, a faint glint of humor in her eyes. "But if you even think about using that sword of yours to 'speed things up,' I'll let the gardener have a word with you himself."

He raised his hands, mock-offended. "You make it sound like I've never set foot in a garden."

"I make it sound like you've ruined one." Her lips twitched into a barely concealed smile.

...

As Caelann dug into the work, Elowyn lingered nearby, watching as he slowly patched up his self-made mess, grumbling occasionally but putting his back into it. She helped too, fetching a few tools from the garden shed, lending a hand with the flowers, and occasionally teasing him for his uneven rows.

It was hours later, the sun setting on the horizon, when he finally looked up from his work, panting and wiping a streak of dirt from his cheek.

"I...think that's it." He held his arms out, as if admiring a masterpiece.

Elowyn surveyed his work with a critical eye. It was better — at least, much less crater-like than before. The flowers were in place, the soil smooth and patted down.

"It'll do," she said at last, nodding in approval.

Caelann chuckled, straightening up. "Well then, Princess," he said, a mock-formal bow, "I await your praise."

"Oh, don't start now," she replied, rolling her eyes, but her smile was warm. She looked at him, her voice gentler. "Thank you, Caelann."

He glanced at her, a little surprised by her tone. For a moment, he saw a glimpse of the friend he'd grown up with—the girl who was more than the titles and the duties.

"Anytime, Elowyn," he said quietly.

Just then, a footman called out from the palace steps, and Elowyn nodded. "I must go," she said, taking a step back.

"Of course," he replied, watching her go.

She glanced over her shoulder as she went, a small wave just for him. "Try not to leave craters in my mother's garden next time."

"Not a chance," he called after her with a grin, shaking his head.

And as he turned back down the path, he couldn't help but feel that perhaps, even without a treasure chest, this quest had been worth his while.

As Caelann made his way back through the palace halls, a few heads turned, though not in surprise. The palace staff knew him well by now — "Caelann the Adventurer," the young man who often managed to wander through their hallowed halls on one errand or another, usually for the princess. A few servants offered him knowing nods or quick greetings as he passed.

Even the Kingsguard gave him a respectful nod. Tall, stoic, and clad in polished armor bearing the crest of the House of Talassa, they stood at attention near the great doors.

"Good to see you again, Caelann," one of them muttered with a slight grin.

"You too," he replied, smiling back.

It was hard not to feel a certain pride with the royal guard greeting him like an equal. He gave them a friendly salute as he pushed open the heavy doors and stepped out of the palace and into the soft dusk.

Outside, the town square buzzed with the usual evening liveliness. The market stalls were lit by hanging lanterns, and merchants were calling out their last deals of the day. Caelann stopped at his favorite baker's stall, reaching into his coin pouch for a few coppers to buy a fresh loaf.

"Evening, Caelann," the baker greeted with a wink, handing him a loaf that was still warm.

"Evening," he replied, taking the bread gratefully.

The faint aroma of baked crust filled the air as he turned back down the winding streets.

The glow of the lanterns faded behind him as he left the bustling town and walked along the dirt path to his little shack on the outskirts.

It was small and humble, a lone dwelling surrounded by fields and trees. He pushed open the creaky wooden door and settled into the single chair at his table.

He tore off a piece of bread, savoring the taste of the warm, soft crumb. Taking another bite, he let himself smile, thinking back on the day's events. For all his big dreams of Diamond rank and heroism, it was these moments — simple and quiet —that reminded him why he was happy with the life he has.