Race of a Thousand Years

Chapter One:Welcome back

In the heart of Ravenscroft, the marketplace bustled with the lively trade of goods, unaware of the impending disturbance that loomed on the horizon. As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets, a commotion erupted near the town's treasury.

Astrid and Erlan, cloaked figures with a devil-may-care charm, emerged from the treasury's depths, a trove of stolen gold clinking in the bags slung over their shoulders. The town's bells tolled not just in alarm but in recognition of the audacious heist that had unfolded.

The pair dashed through the market, guards in hot pursuit, their hands laden with the spoils of their daring escapade. Villagers gasped as they witnessed the audacious duo commandeering a merchant's cart, already piled high with goods. With a devilish grin, Astrid declared, "We'll take this for a joyride!"

Erlan, agile and fearless, urged the horses into a gallop, the stolen gold glinting in the fading sunlight. The pursuing guards, determined and armor-clad, raced through the narrow streets in pursuit of the dynamic thieves.

The scene unfolded like a tale from a minstrel's song, with Astrid and Erlan's laughter echoing through the town as they careened toward the outskirts. The stolen gold, a symbol of their audacity, shimmered in the cart, leaving a trail of whispers in its wake.

The memory of the fateful day, when they had to part with the sword of divinity and make the ultimate sacrifice, lingered in the air as Astrid and Erlan raced through the mountainous expanse. The weight of grief and loss had been their constant companion for nine long months, a period of mourning and introspection.

Now, with the cart filled with stolen gold, they aimed to turn the tide. The stolen wealth, initially a symbol of rebellion, had transformed into a means to break the embargo that oppressed a nearby village. The villagers, victims of Albion's tyranny, would benefit from the spoils of their daring escapade.

As the cart thundered down the mountainside, Astrid's white hair danced in the wind, a visual echo of their renewed purpose. Erlan, hands steady on the reins, felt a sense of redemption coursing through his veins. The stolen gold, once a representation of mischief, now bore the promise of relief for those oppressed by Albion's grip.

The cart hurtled toward the besieged village, where hunger and despair had taken root. Astrid's bow, now a symbol of resilience, stood ready, not for defiance, but for the hope that the stolen riches could bring to those in need. The dynamic duo, scarred by loss but fueled by a newfound purpose, raced against time to defy the embargo and deliver a glimmer of hope to the village below.

With a swift, practiced motion, Erlan skillfully unhitched the horses from the careening cart, allowing it to continue its chaotic descent down the hill. The cart, now free from the reins, rattled and skidded on its side, bags of stolen gold tumbling like gleaming treasures set loose.

Astrid and Erlan, using the overturned cart as makeshift cover, observed the spectacle unfold with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The bags of gold rolled down the hill, a glittering cascade leaving a trail of riches in its wake. The pursuing guards, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events, struggled to navigate the chaotic spectacle.

In the shadow of the overturned cart, Astrid's bow remained drawn, ready for any unforeseen developments. Erlan, a wry grin playing on his face, surveyed the scene with the air of a rogue reveling in the success of their audacious plan.

As the bags of gold spilled and the cart clattered towards the town, Astrid and Erlan remained concealed, poised for the next chapter of their mountainous escape. The stolen riches, liberated from their confines, became both a distraction and a testament to the duo's ingenuity, leaving the guards scrambling in their wake.