From the Background:
It's purely by luck that the one person you meet on the old northern road is a trader with a horse-drawn wagon. When you hail him and tell him you wish to barter, he climbs down to the dusty road and laughs. He's a big man, with dark brown skin and the muscles of a blacksmith. "You're a young one. And bold, too. Perhaps the two go together. But from the looks of you, you don't have much to trade."
You pull the golden amulet from around your neck and hold it up by the chain. It glints in the afternoon sunlight. You tell him you want a sharp sword, chain mail armour, and one of his horses to ride.
When he sees the amulet, his expression darkens. "That's the crest of the fallen king. Where did you find that?"
You've had it all your life, but you don't tell him that. Nor do you tell him that your earliest memory is watching your parents' castle fall to the bat-winged army of an evil Sorceress as you were carried away to safety.
Today is your eighteenth birthday, and you've waited all your life for this day. Your uncle taught you tirelessly how to handle a sword, though he cautioned you against the life of a warrior. Your aunt taught you to ride a horse and told you stories of the Sorceress who laid waste to your parents' kingdom, and the enchanted sword that could defeat her, if anyone was brave enough to find it.
All your life, you've planned to run away and take back the kingdom that is rightfully yours. Today is that day.
Grunting at your silence, the trader gives you a sturdy sword and some well-worn armour, along with a potion and provisions. He unhitches a horse and leads it over to you. But what surprises you is that he refuses your amulet as payment.
He places a big hand on your shoulder. "Where you're going, little one, you'll need that."
You thank him for his generosity, but he shrugs it off and climbs aboard his wagon once more. "Fare thee well, young warrior. Remember this kindness, and remember the trader who bestowed it on you just in case you do succeed." He looks down at you for a moment more, and shakes his head. He snaps his reins, and his wagon lurches away down the dusty road. Now, properly equipped for your journey, you swing into the saddle and ride north, toward the mist-shrouded lands where your ruined kingdom awaits.