The city of Calaedria sprawled before him, vibrant and bustling with life. The streets, paved in cobblestones worn smooth by countless feet, were filled with people—merchants hawking their goods, children playing in the alleyways, and the sound of horse-drawn carts rumbled in the distance. The air carried the familiar smells of spices and fresh bread, mingling with the crisp, cool scent of the lingering winter chill. Patches of snow clung stubbornly to the shaded corners and rooftops, slowly melting under the gentle warmth of the late morning sun. The end of winter was evident in the city's atmosphere, a harmonious blend of cold and warmth, as if the city itself was awakening from a long, frost-covered slumber.
Kurt moved through the crowd with quiet purpose. His cloak billowed slightly behind him, and though he kept his face hidden beneath his hood, there was a weight to his presence that parted the sea of people. His steps were sure, unhurried, and the people around him gave way without even realizing they had done so. Under the dark folds of his cloak, Noctisbane rested at his side, its weight familiar, but he kept the weapon concealed while his second sword, a simple yet strong blade, was openly exposed. His posture—straight, confident—was a silent proclamation of the strength he had earned over the years.
His long hair, darker and unrulier compared to his early years in the city, peeked from beneath his hood, swaying in rhythm with his movements. His once-cautious demeanor had given way to a quiet assurance. No longer the boy who had feared the unknown, Kurt now moved like someone who had conquered many battles, both within and without. His eyes, sharp and watchful, scanned the crowd with a practiced ease, though they held a depth that spoke of countless hardships endured.
As he walked, the sounds of the city seemed to fade away, his mind momentarily elsewhere. The weight of his past as Jonny, the distance he’d traveled, all settled heavily on his shoulders. Yet, despite the burden of his memories, Kurt walked on, blending into the rhythm of the city as though it had always been his home. There were no accolades or cheers for him now, no grand gestures of recognition. His reputation preceded him, and that was enough.
The sun shone brightly from its late-morning perch, casting a soft, golden light over the city. Kurt continued on his path through the streets of Calaedria, moving with purpose among the morning bustle and soft shadows.
At last, he stood before the massive wooden doors of the Seven-Colored Hall, the Adventurer’s Guild that served as the heart of countless quests and endeavors. The towering structure, a testament to the guild’s storied history, stood proudly in the heart of Calaedria. Its high walls were adorned with an array of colorful banners, each one representing a different rank within the guild, and together they created a vibrant spectrum that stretched from the deep crimson of newcomers to the rich violet of those at the highest echelons.
With a single step forward, the doors, massive and imposing, creaked open, responding to his presence as if they recognized him. The heavy oak shifted easily, the faintest whisper of wood against stone. As Kurt crossed the threshold, his azure necklace—marking his rank—peeked out momentarily from beneath his cloak, the deep blue crystal contrasting against the dark fabric of his attire. It was a symbol of his standing, a color that signified experience and skill not far from the violet-clad elites. But to him, the ranking was little more than a marker on his journey, a quiet acknowledgment of the battles fought and victories won. The guild itself held more significance, not for the accolades, but for the purpose it provided, the structure and camaraderie it offered adventurers like him.
He crossed the threshold into the guild proper, the heavy doors falling shut behind him with a soft thud, leaving the noise of the street outside. Inside, the guild was alive with movement—adventurers coming and going, their colorful crystals of rank flashing as they passed. The guild itself was a visual testament to the spectrum of skill and experience that filled its halls. Some glanced at him, recognizing the familiar blue that shone and the calm, measured stride that had become his trademark.
In the midst of it all, Kurt stood, his gaze steady, his eyes sweeping across the bustling hall.
---
Inside, the guild hall was a warm contrast to the chill of the city’s streets. The air was filled with the hum of conversation, the clink of armor, and the soft shuffle of boots against the floor. Adventurers from all walks of life gathered, talking in hushed tones or sharing stories over flagons of ale. Some were preparing for their next journey, others exchanging tips and advice. It was a space for both seasoned warriors and those just beginning to learn the ways of the sword, where every adventurer could find a role.
Kurt moved with ease through the guild hall, past groups of adventurers who were deep in conversation or sharpening their blades, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Though he had walked this path many times before, each time it felt a little different. The guild was almost a second home to him, a place where quests were not just sought but forged, where reputations were made in the fires of shared struggle. Yet, despite its familiar embrace, he felt the same quiet distance that had followed him throughout his travels. He had never quite been one to seek out company, and while many in the guild could count their comrades as friends, Kurt walked alone.
Before reporting the success of his mission, he made his way toward the back where the quest board stood. It was a massive structure, adorned with multiple notices and quests pinned to its wooden surface. Adventurers of all levels came here to find their next challenge, from the simplest of tasks to the most perilous missions. The board, though a place of opportunity, always carried with it the weight of danger—each quest a promise of risk, some far more deadly than others.
As Kurt drew closer, his eyes scanned the various notices, each one more mundane than the last. But then, one notice caught his attention. It was a simple piece of parchment, the ink still fresh, and the words bold and direct. His gaze locked onto the heading, and a familiar stir rose in his chest. “Strange Sightings Reported Beyond the Eastern Border.”
For a moment, the noise of the guild hall faded into the background. The words on the notice seemed to pulse with significance, drawing his attention like a magnet. The Eastern Border—he had been there once before, standing on that very line between the known and the unknown, between the safety of civilization and the chaos of the Darkborn’s lands. A flood of memories washed over him in an instant—battles fought, decisions made, losses endured.
Kurt’s fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the quest board as his eyes traced the rest of the notice. “Strange sightings beyond the Eastern Border. Investigate the reports of a mysterious figure. Authorization granted by the Paladin Council and the Cleric Order to pass into Darkborn territory. Danger expected.”
The words “mysterious figure” and “Eastern Border” stood out to him, burning themselves into his mind. Something had changed in those lands, something significant enough to lift the long-standing prohibition on travel beyond the border. Since before Kurt's arrival to Calaedria four years ago, the council and clerics had kept the Darkborn territory sealed off, forbidding anyone from venturing too far into their domain. But now, the gates had been opened. And it was not for any simple errand or investigation. This was something deeper, something dangerous.
The quest notice seemed to hold a strange pull, a connection to his past that he could not ignore. For a moment, Kurt stood still, his thoughts racing. The timing was peculiar—almost as if fate itself had decided this was the path he was meant to follow. He had wandered alone for years, his journey defined by his quest for purpose and meaning after the death of Helena and the separation from Gavin. Yet now, there was a new call to action, something that whispered of the very forces that had shaped his past.
Without a second thought, Kurt reached up and tore the notice from the board, his fingers tightening around it. The guild, with its constant hum of activity, suddenly felt distant as he focused on the task ahead. He turned away from the quest board, his mind already racing with possibilities. The Eastern Border awaited. And with it, the promise of answers—answers to questions he'd been asking himself for years.
---
Kurt stood at the counter of the Seven-Color Hall, holding the quest notice tightly in his hand. The guild’s proprietor, Gerard, leaned on the counter with a knowing gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinized Kurt. Gerard was a seasoned man in his late forties, sharp and watchful, the kind of person who had seen enough adventurers come and go to understand the weight of every decision. Behind him, scrolls and parchments lined the walls, chronicling the countless quests that had come through the guild—many of which had changed lives, and some of which had claimed them.
“Kurt,” Gerard began, his voice calm but firm. “Before we discuss any new quests, let's address the Powder commission. How did the mission go? And next time, try not to rip the notices off the board. Reprinting those commissions costs money."
Kurt nodded reluctantly, recalling the harrowing journey. “The mission was a success. We escorted the Powder caravan to and from Laurelin'miril safely. We faced an ancient sandworm, but managed to defeat it.”
Gerard's eyes widened slightly. “An ancient sandworm, you say? Impressive. You continue to surpass expectations.”
Kurt nodded. “Groel from House Powder is coordinating the harvesting of the sandworm’s remains now. They’ll have valuable resources thanks to that beast.”
Gerard leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Well done, Kurt. This only reinforces what I’ve been saying—it's time for you to move up in rank. You’ve been eligible for indigo for a while now. It’s time you accepted it.”
Kurt’s expression tightened slightly, and he glanced away. “I appreciate the offer, Gerard, but I’m not ready for that yet.”
Gerard sighed, clearly frustrated but also understanding. “You keep saying that. What’s holding you back?”
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Kurt dodged the question, his gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the guild hall's walls. His eyes seemed to lose focus, as if seeing something only he could perceive. “Just not ready, that’s all,” he murmured, a hint of weariness in his voice. He clenched the quest notice a bit tighter, knuckles whitening. “Besides, there’s still work to be done.”
Gerard raised an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. He had seen this look before—the weight of unspoken burdens, the shadows of past decisions. “Kurt, you know you can talk to me if something’s weighing on you,” Gerard offered gently, though his tone carried an underlying firmness.
After a brief moment of silence, Gerard shook his head, knowing better than to press the issue. “Very well. Just know that the offer stands. Your skills and accomplishments have more than earned you the promotion. Shadowblade.”
Kurt inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Gerard then nodded towards the quest notice in Kurt’s hand. “Now, about this new quest. The Paladin Council and Cleric Order only lifted their ban as the Darkborn fell quiet over the past couple years. This is a five-man commission. You can’t take it on alone.”
Kurt’s gaze sharpened. “I’m aware of the risks, but I can handle it.”
Gerard’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between them. The older man had seen adventurers come through who thought they could handle it all alone, only to fall to the dangers lurking beyond the borders. But Gerard said nothing more, merely offered a quiet sigh. “Not alone, you won’t.”
Before Kurt could respond, a soft rustling at the counter caught his attention. He looked up to see four figures approaching, their footsteps measured and deliberate. They seemed to move as one, a quiet force that filled the space with their presence. Kurt’s instincts, honed over years of solitude, immediately went on alert.
The first to step forward was a slender young woman, her auburn hair falling in soft waves around her face. She looked no older than twenty, but there was something about her demeanor that made Kurt pause. Her calm presence was almost disarming, and the simple staff she carried seemed unremarkable—until he noticed the quiet way she held herself, the way her eyes swept the room, always alert, always calculating. She wore modest garb, simple and practical, yet Kurt could sense there was more to her than she let on. She gave him a polite nod but said nothing, her gaze briefly meeting his before flicking away.
Beside her stood a man, a little older, perhaps twenty-two, his frame taller and more muscular than hers. He wore a long cloak, and a bow was strapped across his back, the kind of weapon that suggested a marksman’s precision. His posture was relaxed, but Kurt could see the easy tension in his shoulders—like a bowstring just waiting to snap. Despite his casual stance, there was something restrained in the man’s movement. His eyes, dark and watchful, assessed Kurt, and for a brief moment, Kurt felt the weight of that scrutiny.
Next was a stocky boy, no older than seventeen, though his thick armor and broad shoulders made him appear much older. He stood with an uncontainable energy, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes bright and eager. His enthusiasm was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual stoic demeanor of the guild hall. The boy didn’t seem the type to hold back his words or his excitement. It was easy to dismiss him at first glance, but Kurt knew better. The ones with boundless energy often had depths hidden beneath the surface. This boy was a shield—a protector for the others—but there was an intensity to him, a fire that burned with potential and determination far beyond his years.
Finally, there was the sorceress. She was a girl of nineteen, raven-haired and sharp-eyed, with an aura of quiet power that surrounded her. Dressed simply in robes, she held herself in a way that made it difficult to determine her true capabilities. Kurt could sense the force of her magic, hidden beneath the layers of modesty she seemed to wear, downplaying her true potential. Her eyes met his, and Kurt felt the faintest ripple of something unnerving in the air between them. She, like the others, had yet to reveal herself fully—there was more to her than met the eye.
Each of them wore the yellow rank of rising adventurers, with the exception of the sorceress, whose green rank marked her as a particularly promising talent. Skilled, but not elite. Still, Kurt couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to these four than just their rank. They weren’t here by chance, and the quest notice seemed to have brought them all together for a reason. Their eyes sparkled with excitement, each eager to prove themselves and make their mark on the world.
Kurt’s gaze flicked over each of them once more, and for the briefest of moments, he felt the quiet weight of their collective attention on him. There was no mistaking it—this wasn’t just a casual encounter. Gerard’s words echoed in his mind: Not alone, you won’t.
Kurt turned to Gerard, keeping his tone measured. “Why me?”
Gerard met his gaze steadily. “You're not simply keeping watch, Kurt. You’re leading. And we need your skills.” He glanced subtly at the healer, who stood quietly among the group. “This mission carries a bit of importance, and I'd feel at ease with you being with them.”
Before Kurt could respond, the tall man with the bow cut into the conversation, his voice carrying the quiet authority of someone who was used to getting straight to the point. “You’re not planning to go out there alone, are you?"
The sorceress, her arms folded across her chest, gave a small, almost imperceptible nod in agreement. She didn’t speak, but her sharp eyes never left Kurt’s, as though daring him to try and handle this mission by himself.
Kurt’s lips tightened into a thin line, his gaze flicking from the man to the others. He could feel the unspoken challenge in the air, the weight of their scrutiny pressing in on him. The instinct to push them away, to remain a lone wolf—especially with the possibility of finding signs of Gavin after four years of silence—flared up within him.
Kurt’s hand clenched the quest notice, and he exhaled slowly. “I don’t need anyone holding me back.”
The words were firm, but as soon as they left his lips, the boy in armor stepped forward with a vibrant energy, his movements brimming with zeal. His eyes were bright and eager, the air around him charged with his youthful vigor.
“Then don’t,” the boy said simply, his voice low but unmistakably clear. “But you’ll be doing this with us. Whether you like it or not.”
Gerard didn’t even flinch at the exchange. His eyes flicked from Kurt to the group and back again, his expression unchanged. “You’ll work with them, Kurt. This isn’t something you can do on your own.”
Kurt frowned, his skepticism evident. “They’re low-ranked," he said quietly to Gerard. "What makes you think they can handle this?”
Gerard sighed, his expression softening. “I know they’re not elite, but they’ve got potential. And with your guidance, they can rise to the challenge. Everyone has to start somewhere.”
The marksman’s lips curled into a small smile, his eyes glinting with something like approval. “I think we’ll manage.”
Kurt stood there, his mind spinning with the implications. He preferred to take this commission alone, but now, surrounded by these strangers, he couldn't win against Gerard's argument. They had become his companions, whether he wanted them or not.
Finally, Kurt let out a sharp sigh. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice resigned but not defeated. “I’ll work with you. But be ready to give it everything you’ve got.”
The healer gave a soft, almost imperceptible nod. The shield-bearer simply grunted. And the sorceress' gaze softened, just slightly, before she turned away. The marksman raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smug smile on his lips. “Looks like you don't have a choice in the matter.”
---
Kurt and his four new companions entered private quarters reserved for high-ranking adventurers. The room was spacious yet simple, its walls lined with tapestries depicting past victories of renowned guild members. A sturdy wooden table dominated the center, surrounded by cushioned chairs—a place for strategy, discussion, and camaraderie. Kurt, who had grown accustomed to such spaces, leaned against the far wall, his shadow flickering in the dim candlelight.
As the less experienced adventurers took in their surroundings, they couldn't hide their awe. Their eyes widened, tracing the intricate details of the tapestries and the craftsmanship of the furniture. This was a realm of the elite, a world they had only dreamed of. Whispers of past legends seemed to echo through the room, and they felt a mix of reverence and excitement, knowing they now stood where many great adventurers had before them.
Kurt regarded the group before him, his sharp gaze taking in their varying expressions. “I’ll keep this brief,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Kurt. Blue-ranked. Kurt.” He paused, scanning their faces.
The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly as Kurt finished his introduction. The healer’s gaze lingered on him, her expression soft but intrigued, as if trying to piece together the man behind the reputation. Beside her, the sturdy boy grinned, his admiration plain and unabashed. The sorceress, as expected, remained detached, her sharp eyes scanning the room, ever alert.
But the marksman was different. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw visibly clenched as jealousy flickered beneath his otherwise calm exterior. His narrowed eyes darted to Kurt, and the smirk he’d worn earlier was gone.
He was the first to step forward. Tall and lean, his movements were fluid, like someone who spent years blending precision with agility. A finely crafted bow rested on his back, and the quiver at his hip jingled faintly as he walked.
“Name’s Pierce,” he said forcing a cocky smirk, his voice carrying an air of self-assurance that bordered on arrogance. “Marksman. Best shot in the guild.”
Kurt met his gaze, unimpressed but not dismissive. Pierce’s confidence was palpable, and the subtle tension in his posture hinted at a competitive streak.
The healer was next. Her approach was softer, her movements calm and measured. Her warm smile and soft brown eyes were disarming—familiar, almost painfully so. Kurt’s breath caught for a fleeting second.
“I’m Holly, a cleric of Lathander. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kurt,” she said, her voice as gentle as her demeanor.
Kurt’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. He had already noticed the uncanny resemblance to Jessie Macy when they first met. The light in her eyes, the peaceful aura she exuded—it was all too familiar. Memories of Jessie’s final moments flashed briefly in his mind, but he maintained his composure.
He quickly schooled his expression, narrowing his eyes as he studied Holly. Jessie… Similar features, same clerical air…
The robust boy’s booming voice broke the tension. The youngest of the group, he was also the largest—a towering figure clad in heavy armor that gleamed faintly in the candlelight. His massive shield, strapped to his back, seemed almost comically oversized, yet he carried it with ease.
“William,” he introduced himself with a grin that softened his otherwise imposing appearance. “Call me Will. I’m the shield. I keep you lot safe.”
Kurt allowed himself a slight nod. There was something refreshing about Will’s straightforwardness. Despite his size, the young man carried a lighthearted confidence, the kind that came from a genuine desire to protect others.
Finally, the sorceress stepped forward, her movements precise and deliberate. Her dark robes, adorned with intricate arcane symbols, seemed to shift with an otherworldly energy. In her hands, she held a crystal orb that glowed faintly, casting an eerie light on her sharp, angular features.
“Swan,” she said simply, her tone cold and detached. “I deal with the arcane side of things. Keep your distance.”
Her voice was as sharp as her appearance, and the magical energy radiating from her orb made it clear she wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter.
Kurt studied her for a moment longer than the others, noting the way her calculating eyes flickered over her teammates, as if already assessing their usefulness. An interesting group, he thought. They might hold together. Or they might break apart the first time things get messy.
Pierce immediately stepped forward, eager to seize the spotlight and assert himself as the leader. With a glance back at the group, he flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright, introductions are over. Let’s get moving. The eastern border’s not gonna explore itself,” he announced, motioning for the others to follow.
Before he could take more than a few steps, Kurt’s voice cut through the room—calm, yet commanding. “Before we rush out, we need to make sure we’re prepared.”
Pierce paused mid-stride, his grin faltering as he turned back toward Kurt.
“The trip could take weeks, maybe months,” Kurt continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Scavenging can only get us so far. We’ll need rations, medical supplies, and essentials. Without them, we won’t make it past the first major checkpoint.”
The group exchanged glances, Kurt’s interruption grounding the enthusiasm Pierce had tried to spark.
Holly was the first to speak. “Kurt’s right,” she said with a nod. “We can’t just leave things to chance. Let’s make sure we’re fully stocked.”
William scratched his chin thoughtfully before nodding. “Fine by me. Better safe than sorry.”
Swan, true to form, remained silent, but her attentive gaze flicked between Kurt and the rest of the group.
Pierce, on the other hand, looked less than thrilled. His jaw tightened further, and though he didn’t argue, his frustration was evident in the way his hand twitched toward his quiver.
Kurt stepped forward slightly, taking control with an ease that left no room for debate. His hood cast a shadow over most of his face, but his voice carried across the room with quiet authority.
“We’ll meet tomorrow at noon by the outskirts,” he instructed. “Get what you need, and don’t forget the necessities. We’re crossing the Eastern Border—we need to be ready for anything.”
His words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the gravity of their mission.
Holly nodded again, offering a small smile in Kurt’s direction. “See you all at noon, then,” she said softly, her tone warm but resolute.
The group began to disperse, each member silently planning their next steps. William’s heavy armor clinked faintly as he lumbered toward the door, Swan moving quietly behind him like a shadow. Holly hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to Kurt once more before she followed.
Pierce lingered the longest, his movements stiff as he turned away with a tight jaw, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
Kurt remained in place, his arms crossed as he watched them go. It’s not about who leads, he thought, shaking his head slightly.
The door closed behind the last of them, and the room fell silent once more. The mission had only just begun, but already, the group’s dynamics were starting to take shape. Whether that shape would hold—or fracture—was something only time would reveal.