“Fellow adventurers at heart,

It is easy to get stuck in a life which acts against your calling, against your true desires. And as time seems to fly past quicker every day, it is not even hard to let a wrong path go on for many years. Maybe even for the rest of them. But your mind still wanders, doesn’t it? It still goes to an evening many years ago, when you sat near the fire after a long day on the road. When the smell of the stew found its way up your nose, just briefly changing the clear, cold air, that you can only get out there. Or to that day you improved someone’s life, maybe even saved it.

I believe these moments are worth chasing. For the happiness they'll bring you and me, and for the good they'll bring to everyone this journey will lead us to.

Follow me to become a hero!

Sincerely,

Jonathan von Frech.

PS: Food, shelter and a fair compensation will be provided.”

A hint of a smile rose on Jonathan's face as he finished reading the letter a last time. He held it onto the sun-bleached wood of the noticeboard and put in the nail. And with that, he had done it. He had finally done the first step, instead of continuing the dreaming and learning and planning he had been doing for years. Jonathan turned away, vowing to himself to not look back at what must be dozens of people losing focus from their Monday morning shopping to his message. Instead, He focused on the loud, ruthless fight for goods in front of him. He smelled the berries, that had hung on bushes in the forest, that still covered most of the mountain the town was built on, just hours ago. He watched the butcher trying to make the raw meat look delicious. And he listened to the shouts of people having to negotiate a price, that would leave them with enough to get through the month. And with all that around him, he was glad for not having to participate in any of it. He didn’t look down on them, like so many of his fellow highborn did. But that didn’t make him less happy to be climbing up the hundreds of narrow stairs, that connected the busy merchant's district, with the grander buildings, the better views, the cleaner air and the place he called home.

Jonathan's breath had barely quickened, when he stopped at his gate to watch the gardener run around, always looking for tiny imperfections between the precisely formed bushes, the harmonic range of colors and the carefully planned stream flowing through it all. If Jonathan was honest, which he never was with him, he didn't care too much for it. But the gardener loved it, so why take it away from him?

He opened the gate and followed the raised wooden path to his two-story mansion, made of dark brown beams with white stones between. Jonathan went straight into the pompously decorated room he usually welcomed his guests in, sat down into his favorite padded chair and started reading a book about knots, his latest fascination. And while the pages turned, with his mind only half focused on them, he slowly fell asleep.