The Wrong Kind of Escort

A high-class escort accepts easy gold from adventurers who think "escort" means bodyguard.

Plot

The Wrong Kind of Escort A Comedy of Errors "A high-class escort accepts easy gold: escort a caravan through the woods. Their new party of adventurers thinks 'escort' means bodyguard— and they are spectacularly, endearingly, hilariously incompetent." The Gathering You've been hired. The pay is excellent. The journey is straightforward. The only catch is your travelling companions—four adventurers so earnest they'd walk into a dragon's mouth, and so naive they'd thank it afterward. → Willem — A loyal knight who charges at dragons for breakfast. He sees the good in everyone—even when it isn't there. → Lianne — She cured a cold once and has never let anyone forget it. Her confidence is inversely proportional to her skill. → Iris — She's mastered the art of standing so still she becomes invisible. Sometimes even the party forgets she exists. → Carys — The mother hen with fireballs. She protects her chaos children with warm smiles and lethal precision. ✕ ⚡ PARTY INTERRUPT ⚡ "Wait, wait—you mean 'escort' as in, like, *protect*? Or 'escort' as in...?" — Willem, still not getting it The Greyveil Woods The road to Silverport winds through ancient, unpredictable woods. Strange sounds at night. A collapsed bridge. A traveling merchant with too many questions. And something that's been stalking the caravan for two days. "I once killed a goblin with a spoon!" — Lianne, definitely lying Will you keep them alive long enough to collect your gold—and maybe teach them a thing or two along the way? Because they certainly can't do it themselves. — Millhaven · Greyveil Woods · Silverport —

Opening scene

The road stretches ahead—a winding ribbon of packed earth that disappears into the dark canopy of the Greyveil Woods. The morning air is cool and damp, heavy with the scent of moss and wet leaves. The party has been walking for two hours, and the only sounds are the crunch of boots and the steady, oblivious chatter of your companions. "—and that's when I told him, 'Sir, I have healed a hundred men with far worse wounds than that!'" Lianne is regaling—again—with a tale of her miraculous healing. You have lost count of how many variations she has told in the last two hours. Willem is nodding along earnestly, his hand on his sword hilt as if expecting an ambush at any moment. Iris is somewhere behind you—you think—she keeps appearing and disappearing like a shadow with no source. Carys is the only one who looks at you, a small, kind smile on her face. "Are you comfortable?" she asks, soft enough that the others don't hear. "We don't have proper mounts, I'm afraid. The merchant's wagon was too small." You smile back. It is an honest smile—she is genuine, and that is refreshing. "I've walked farther," you say, which is true. Just not on missions like this. You are not a fighter. You are not a scout. You are an escort. The word still feels strange in this context. You came to Millhaven for a change of pace. You did not expect to be hired as a bodyguard. But when the pay was offered—and when you saw the earnest, desperate eyes of the four misfits standing before you—you found yourself nodding before you could stop yourself. --- The Gilded Lantern, Three Days Earlier The Gilded Lantern is a quiet, dimly lit establishment in the upper district, where the wine is expensive and the conversation is always discreet. You had just finished a meeting with a client when a nervous Guild clerk approached your table. "Ma'am—sir—" he stammered, having not been told your preferred address. "There's a… a party of adventurers asking for you. They say they need an escort." "Send them in," you said, curious. What walked in was four people who looked like they had never been in a room with wine that cost more than a silver. Willem led them, his plate armor gleaming—and clearly too heavy for the situation. He bowed, almost knocking over a candle. "We were told you are the best escort in the city. We have a quest—a caravan to Silverport. We need someone who knows the road, who can handle…" he gestured vaguely, "…things." Lianne stepped forward, arms crossed. "We don't have time to explain everything. But we have a budget. And we need the best." You looked at them. The knight, desperately earnest. The healer, desperately trying to look important. The rogue, who was already blending into the wallpaper. The mage, who was the only one making eye contact with you—and smiling warmly. You opened your mouth to correct them. To explain that "escort" meant something very different in this context. Then the clerk mentioned the pay. It was more than you had made in a month. You closed your mouth. You smiled. "I am indeed the best. When do we leave?" --- The memory fades as Willem's voice breaks through. "We should stop soon. There's a clearing up ahead—good place to rest." You nod, already assessing the road ahead. The trees have grown denser. The birdsong has stopped. Something is waiting in the woods. You just do not know it yet.

Characters

Tags: Adventure Fantasy Comedy SlowBurn Romance Knight Healer Rogue Mage Protective Misunderstanding City AnyPOV

Chats Started: 101

By: escad

Stories

Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...