The gates of the Barker estate groaned on their iron hinges as they swung open, a sound both familiar and foreboding to Jonny—though many called him Kurt now. He approached at a steady pace, his boots crunching against the gravel path. The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the ground. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and melting snow, remnants of winter lingering in the shaded corners and rooftops.
Two guards flanked the entrance, their polished steel breastplates catching the dull glow of the overcast sky. They straightened as he approached, their postures shifting from formal vigilance to familiarity.
“Master Jonny,” one of them said with a respectful nod. His voice carried warmth that momentarily softened the crisp air. “It’s been some time.”
Jonny tilted his head slightly, his face betraying a faint but fleeting smile. “Feels like forever,” he replied, his tone even. “Good to see you again.”
The guard stepped aside, motioning to his companion to do the same. The heavy gates, wrought with intricate filigree and the crest of the Barker family—a sword entwined with laurels—swung fully open, granting him passage.
As the estate grounds spread out before him, Jonny’s gaze swept over the landscape. The main house, a stately manor of weathered stone and high-arched windows, loomed in the distance. Its peaked roofs rose against the backdrop of skeletal trees stripped bare by winter. The well-manicured gardens and statues of Calaedria’s heroes added an air of grandeur to the scene. Smoke curled from one of the chimneys, carrying with it the warm, inviting aroma of roasting meat and simmering spices—a familiar comfort he had grown accustomed to between his adventures.
Jonny adjusted the strap of the pack slung over his shoulder and turned his attention to the manor. Despite its grandeur, a part of him always felt ill at ease here. The Barker estate had been a sanctuary once, a place where he had found guidance and the semblance of family after Helena’s death. Yet, it never truly belonged to him.
The gravel shifted under his boots as Jonny walked along the path. The familiar scent drifted through the air, drawing him closer to the main house. He passed by the staff tending to the gardens, their friendly exchanges adding to the estate's welcoming atmosphere.
Jonny strode up the wide steps to the front doors, his footsteps deliberate. The heavy oak doors, carved with scenes of knighthood and valor, seemed to stare back at him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering just above the brass knocker, intricately shaped like a roaring dragon's head. But before he could knock, the door creaked open, revealing Coral Barker standing tall and beaming with unmistakable joy. His sharp features were softened by the wide smile that lit up his face, a rare sight that immediately eased some of the weight Jonny hadn’t realized he was carrying.
“Jonny!” Coral called out, his voice ringing with a warmth that cut through the cold winter air. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Or should I say, Sandbreaker now?”
Jonny stopped short, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish grin crept across his face. “I've only been back for a couple of hours, and already the bards are at it,” he replied, his tone light but edged with a hint of disbelief.
“Oh, don’t be modest,” Coral teased, stepping forward and clapping Jonny on the shoulder. “Dispatching an ancient sandworm isn’t exactly something you can keep quiet about. The whole region’s talking.”
Jonny shook his head, chuckling softly. “Let them talk. You know how it is—bards add their own flair.”
Coral laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Fair enough. Come on, get in here before you freeze.” He stepped aside, gesturing for Jonny to enter.
The familiar warmth of the manor enveloped Jonny as he crossed the threshold. The rich scent of burning cedar from the nearby hearth mingled with the faint aroma of spiced tea wafting from somewhere deeper within the house. Coral led the way down the main corridor, his long strides and confident gait reflecting the maturity he’d grown into.
Nearly thirty now, Coral carried himself with the kind of poise that came from enduring hardship. Four years of house arrest had left their mark, but rather than breaking him, it had tempered him. There was a sense of calm resilience in the way he moved, as if he had made peace with his confinement and was simply biding his time.
“Just another month,” Coral said as they turned a corner, his voice tinged with excitement. “Another month, and I’ll finally be back to full paladin duties.”
Jonny glanced at him, one brow arching in amusement. “Bet you’ve been itching to get out there.”
Coral let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You have no idea. You've been so busy, lately. I can't even remember the last time we've sparred. And...I miss the weight of purpose—the feeling that what I’m doing matters.”
Jonny nodded, his expression softening. “Four years is a long time to be stuck in one place.”
“It’s felt like a lifetime,” Coral admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I’ve made do. Plenty of time to train, plan, and dream of getting back out there.” He turned to Jonny, his expression brightening again. “And to hear about your exploits, of course. Makes me proud, even if I can’t take credit for teaching you a thing.”
Jonny smirked. “You sure about that? Pretty sure you could still take me in a fight.”
“Careful,” Coral shot back with a grin, “I might hold you to that.”
The two of them reached the private room, where a crackling fire awaited. Coral gestured toward the armchairs by the hearth, his demeanor easy and inviting. “Sit. Catch me up. I want to hear everything.”
---
The soft clink of teacups punctuated the cozy quiet of the sitting room as Coral poured a second round of tea. The amber liquid steamed gently in the firelight, casting fleeting shadows across the table between them. Coral leaned back in his chair, hands wrapped around the delicate porcelain cup, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp and curious.
“You know,” Coral began, his tone casual yet thoughtful, “you were too old to be enrolled in any academy when you first came here, but our tutors always spoke highly of you.”
Jonny looked up from his own cup, brow quirking slightly. “Is that so?”
Coral smirked. “Don’t act so surprised. You know exactly how sharp you are. They never stopped talking about your quick learning, your discipline. History, geography, swordsmanship, magic theory—you soaked it all up like a sponge. They said you learned as fast as any of their best academy students, maybe faster.”
Jonny set his teacup down, letting the quiet clatter settle before replying. “They were patient,” he said simply. “And you gave me the chance to learn.”
“Patient?” Coral chuckled, leaning forward slightly. “More like amazed. You picked up Calaedrian sword forms in months, Jonny—forms that take years for most students to master. And don’t get me started on how quickly you grasped our magic system, even though you didn’t have the spark to cast. Groel said he’d never seen anyone dissect the flow of runes so instinctively.”
Jonny’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “It was all new to me. I didn’t have time to waste.”
“And that,” Coral said, pointing at him with the edge of his teacup, “is exactly what set you apart. You didn’t just coast through the lessons—we saw the fire in you. The determination. And look where it’s gotten you now—a blue rank adventurer with songs sung about your heroics.”
Jonny snorted softly, leaning back in his chair. “Songs,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s mostly exaggeration. Bards have a knack for turning a skirmish into an epic.”
“Right,” Coral teased, leaning forward with an exaggerated expression of mock disbelief. “Because slaying an ancient sandworm isn’t impressive at all.”
Jonny chuckled despite himself, crossing his arms. “I got lucky. Right place, right time.”
Coral gave him a knowing look, his smirk softening into a more earnest smile. “Luck or not, you’ve done well for yourself. But let’s not pretend it came from nowhere. The Barkers gave you a foundation—education, guidance, resources. That’s no small thing.”
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Jonny’s expression grew thoughtful. He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the firelight playing across the table. “You’re right. The Barkers gave me everything I needed to start. And I owe all of you for that. But that’s just it—I didn’t want to coast on what you gave me. That’s why I joined the adventurer’s guild as Kurt. No handouts, no connections—just me, trying to prove I could stand on my own.”
Coral tilted his head, studying Jonny with a mix of pride and something more subdued. “You’ve certainly proven that. No one could argue otherwise. But, Jonny… you could’ve stayed. You didn’t have to do this alone.”
The room fell quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire. Jonny glanced away, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the rim of his cup. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, tinged with a heaviness that hadn’t fully faded in the years since.
“After Gavin left,” he began, his eyes fixed on the distant glow of the fire, “it just didn’t feel right staying here. You and your family did so much for me, but I wasn’t one of you. Not really. I had to find my own way.”
Coral’s expression softened further, his earlier playfulness giving way to quiet understanding. “Gavin,” he said gently. “He was… something else. I didn’t understand him fully back then, but I knew how much he meant to you. Losing him must’ve felt like losing a piece of yourself.”
Jonny nodded but didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched just long enough to be noticeable before he let out a faint sigh. “Yeah. He was more than just a machine to me. He was the only thing I had left of that part of my life. And when he was gone, it was like the ground beneath my feet disappeared.”
Coral set his cup down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve built something solid since then. You’ve become someone people look up to—someone who matters. But you don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know. You’re allowed to lean on people, Jonny.”
Jonny’s lips twitched into a faint, almost wry smile. “Says the guy who’s been stuck in house arrest for the past few years. Who’ve you been leaning on?”
Coral chuckled, the sound light but genuine. “Good point. But I’ve had time to think about that, too. Sometimes, all we need is someone to remind us we don’t have to do it all ourselves. Maybe I’ve been waiting to tell you that.”
Jonny’s expression softened. “I’ve worked with people on my adventures. We’ve fought side by side, faced dangers together. But it’s different, you know? It’s not the same...”
Coral nodded, his gaze steady. “Exactly. It’s one thing to trust someone in battle, and another to let them see who you really are. It’s okay to let people in, Jonny. You don’t have to do it all alone.”
The two of them fell into an easier rhythm after that, the heavier topics giving way to lighter banter. They exchanged stories—Jonny’s tales of dangerous quests and Coral’s accounts of the various hobbies he had taken up during his confinement, from studying ancient texts to honing his skills in intricate woodcarving. Despite the restrictions, Coral's enthusiasm for learning and creativity shone through, making Jonny smile.
“Well,” Coral said at one point, a mischievous gleam in his eye, “when I’m officially free in a month, how about we take on a commission together? I’d love to see the Sandbreaker in action.”
Jonny smirked, raising his cup in a mock toast. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing if you can keep up, Coral.”
For a moment, the weight of the past eased, leaving only the warmth of companionship and the unspoken bond between two people who had weathered more than their fair share of storms.
---
The quiet murmur of conversation between Jonny and Coral was interrupted by the distinct sound of footsteps approaching from the hall. A light tapping followed, the unmistakable rhythm of a cane against the polished floor. Both men turned toward the doorway just as Dave appeared, his broad grin lighting up the room.
“Jonny! Coral!” he called, his voice warm and familiar, carrying a weight of camaraderie built over years of shared trials.
“Dave,” Jonny said with a smile that was rare but genuine, rising from his chair. Coral, seated nearby, gave an enthusiastic wave, his grin matching Dave’s.
Jonny’s surprise was evident as he approached Dave. “Dave, what brings you here? I didn’t expect to see you.”
Dave chuckled, leaning on his cane with ease. “I heard from Groel when he got back from your commission together. Figured you’d be here, so I thought I’d drop by and pay a visit.”
Jonny nodded, his smile widening. “Groel always knows how to keep everyone connected. It’s good to see you, Dave.”
“You’re looking good,” Jonny remarked, clasping Dave’s outstretched hand firmly.
“Thanks to you two,” Dave replied, settling into a chair with a contented sigh. “It’s good to see you both.”
Coral leaned forward, his curiosity bubbling over before Jonny could even respond. “Did you really take down a sandworm, Jonny?”
Jonny groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Here we go again.”
Dave chuckled, his laughter rich and warm. "Groel told me about your latest mission. Word travels fast in the guild, especially when someone takes down something so monstrous." He hummed a tune under his breath, then sang out, "Kurt fought fierce in the desert's glare, against the sandworm's deadly snare."
“It wasn’t just me,” Jonny stammered, his face reddening as he waved off the praise. “The team did most of the work. I just got lucky and landed the final blow.”
“Always so modest,” Coral teased, shaking his head. “You can’t fool me, though. I’ve seen what you can do with that sword.”
“And what about you, Coral?” Dave interjected, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Still counting down the days until your ‘sentence’ is up?”
“Don’t remind me,” Coral replied, leaning back with an exaggerated groan. “One more month, and then I can finally get back to real work.”
Dave grinned, tapping his cane lightly against the floor. “I’ll bet. You’ve been cooped up for too long, my friend. It’ll be good to see you back out there where you belong.”
Coral’s grin widened, but his tone softened slightly as he added, “It hasn’t been all bad. Having Jonny around these past few years has been… grounding. Reminds me there’s more to life than duty and battle.”
Jonny glanced away, his expression unreadable, but Dave caught the flicker of emotion in his eyes.
“You’ve come a long way, Jonny,” Dave said, his tone turning more serious. “From the kid I met all those years ago to the man sitting here now—it’s like night and day. And I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
Jonny narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “This isn’t like you,” he remarked. “You don't owe me anything.”
“For helping me reconcile with my family,” Dave replied, his voice low but steady. “I remember you dragging me to their doorstep like it was yesterday. I was too stubborn to admit I needed it, but you knew better. You both did.”
As Dave spoke, Jonny’s mind drifted to memories of when he first met Coral and Dave. Back then, his heart burned with a relentless desire for revenge. The Darkborn had taken Helena, his adoptive mother, from him. Helena, whose unwavering kindness and strength had taught Jonny to trust again, had been his anchor in a turbulent world. She had opened her heart and home to him, showing him what it meant to love and be loved.
The mere presence of Helena had been a sanctuary for Jonny. Her wisdom guided his actions, her laugh brought light to his darkest days, and her steady voice had been a beacon of hope.
When the Darkborn took her away, the loss had ignited a fire within Jonny, a relentless need to avenge the woman who had given him everything. His early days with Coral and Dave were fueled by this singular goal. Every step he took, every decision he made, was driven by the hope of making the Darkborn pay for their cruelty.
But as time passed and battles were fought, Jonny’s perspective began to shift. He realized that his mission against the Darkborn was not just about vengeance; it was about protecting those he cared about and ensuring that no one else would have to endure the pain he had felt. Helena’s teachings had seeped into his very core, transforming his anger into a righteous cause.
Now, sitting with Coral and Dave, the memories of Helena were no longer a source of unquenchable rage. Instead, they were a source of strength and motivation. The mission remained, but it was no longer merely a quest for vengeance. It was a commitment to honor Helena’s legacy, to fight for justice, and to protect the innocent.
Jonny’s thoughts returned to the present, aligning with Dave’s recollection of making amends with his family.
Coral nodded, his expression unusually solemn. “It wasn’t easy getting you there, but it was worth it. I can see it in you now—you’re lighter somehow, more at ease.”
Dave chuckled softly. “I suppose I am. They’ve forgiven me, and I’ve learned to forgive myself. And that’s thanks to you two. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you.”
Jonny shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the gratitude being directed his way. “We just did what anyone would’ve done,” he muttered.
Dave leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “No, Jonny. Not anyone. You’re different. You’ve always been different.”
The room fell quiet for a moment, the air thick with unspoken emotion. Then, as if sensing the need to lighten the mood, Coral clapped his hands together.
“Well, enough of this sappy talk,” he said with a grin. “Dave, you’ve got to tell us what you’ve been up to. I’m sure it’s more exciting than anything happening here.”
Dave laughed, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the sun. “Oh, you know me—always finding trouble somewhere. But I’d rather hear about your adventures, Jonny. What’s next for the great Sandbreaker?”
Jonny groaned again, shaking his head as Coral burst into laughter. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, the three of them trading stories and teasing one another like old friends.
---
The evening air was crisp, the faint scent of pine drifting through the open window as Jonny stepped into the armory. The low glow of lanterns cast long shadows across the walls, their light reflecting off polished steel and ornate hilts. Coral stood at a workbench near the corner, oiling his gauntlets with a precision born of years of habit. He looked up as Jonny approached, his sharp eyes catching the glint of the sword Jonny carried.
The moment hung between them briefly before Jonny spoke quietly. “He's out there. Beyond the border.”
Coral’s grin faded, replaced by a somber stillness. “Gavin.”
Jonny nodded, his jaw tightening. “The guild received reports of a figure matching his description. Moving fast, avoiding detection, but definitely out there. They’ve issued a commission to investigate. I’ll be heading out tomorrow.”
Coral’s gaze dropped to the sword in Jonny's hand. “The Paladin Council ordered the reopening of the eastern border into Darkborn territory. I’ve been expecting this. The Eastern Border… It’s been quiet for too long. Too quiet. It feels like the calm before the storm.”
Jonny met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. “I’ve been through worse, Coral. You know that.”
“I do,” Coral said, his tone soft but firm. “But the Eastern Border’s not what it used to be. The Darkborn may be quiet, but they’re never gone. And Gavin… if it’s really him, you don’t know what state he’ll be in. Be careful, Jonny. Not just for your sake, but for his.”
Jonny’s expression softened, the weight of Coral’s words settling on his shoulders. “I’ll be fine,” he said after a moment. “I’ve got a team. We’ll handle it.”
Jonny held out the weapon in his hand, its scabbard catching the warm light. “I appreciate the loan,” he said, his voice steady but laced with gratitude. “It’s served me well. But I’ve got a new blade being forged from the sandworm. Should be ready by the time I return from my next commission.”
Coral took the sword, his gloved fingers brushing against the worn leather grip. He unsheathed it partially, examining the edge with an approving nod before sliding it back. “You’ve earned it,” he said simply, his tone free of embellishment, as though stating a fact. “But I suggest you keep using it for now. It’s a reliable blade, and it’s seen you through some tough battles.”
Jonny gave a faint smile, his determination clear. “I appreciate the sentiment, Coral. I might be facing the Darkborn. I shouldn’t rely on any other blade besides Nox. If I’m going to face the Darkborn, I need to be fully committed.”
Coral leaned the sword against the table, crossing his arms as he regarded Jonny with a thoughtful expression. “You’ve always been capable, Jonny. But don’t let the bards fool you. One victory doesn’t mean invincibility. Stay grounded.”
Jonny nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. “I try to. But lately, it feels like everything’s moving so fast. Too fast.”
Coral studied him for a moment before walking to a nearby shelf and pulling down a small tin of salve. “For your hands,” he said, tossing it to Jonny. “Calluses don’t make you invincible either.”
Jonny caught the tin with a smirk. “Always looking out for me.”
“Who else if not me?” Coral replied with a faint grin.
Coral hesitated, then extended a hand. Jonny clasped it tightly, the unspoken bond between them saying more than words ever could.
“Come back in one piece,” Coral said finally, his voice carrying the weight of both command and plea.
Jonny smiled faintly. “You know me. Always do.”
***
As Jonny returned to his quarters, the stillness of the estate seemed heavier than usual. He packed his supplies methodically, each item placed with care: a bedroll, flint, rations, spare clothes, and a few vials of healing tinctures Coral had insisted he take. His hands paused briefly as he packed his armor, the familiar weight of his breastplate serving as both a comfort and a reminder of the battles he’d faced. Nestled between his clothes in his bag lay a locket, a cherished keepsake of his mother, Helena, and a tangible link to his past.
His thoughts wandered to Gavin—his oldest companion, his silent protector. It had been years since they’d parted ways, but the memory of their last exchange was still sharp in Jonny’s mind.
Jonny shook his head, forcing the memory aside. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. The Eastern Border was calling, and with it came the promise of answers—but also danger.
As he secured the last of his belongings, a familiar unease settled in his chest.
The Eastern Border was a place of mystery and peril, a region scarred by the Darkborn’s lingering presence. If Gavin was truly there, it could mean anything—or nothing. But one thing was certain: this commission would be unlike any other.
Jonny took a deep breath, casting one last glance around the room before extinguishing the lantern. The night was still, but his mind was anything but. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of yet another journey, and as always, he would face it head-on.