Jon’s Addendum

Jon The Rogue

Granite, 8 am. For the last ten minutes I’ve been standing in silence, after telling them I had to leave soon. Sophia is crying, while Pete tries to get her to calm down. I’m trying to decipher the cryptic message I got early this morning, myself. I spent the first few minutes convincing myself that it was just a vivid dream, but no,  Edmund used the specific phrase we had agreed upon.

“Ready your things and say your goodbyes. we’ll be there within a few days,” was all he really added. But it was enough.

a) He wasn’t coming alone + b) He expected me to leave with him c) We probably weren’t going to be back any time soon = something serious.

I’ve only been in Granite for a month. The previous two months were spent cleaning up the mess in Bastion, as well as securing the rest of Aerunda’s treasure. We relocated to The Cauldron since it provided some shelter for and from us. Willard was not impressed with what happened to his mansion, and I don’t blame him. Of course, he wasn’t so angry that he bothered to even come back to Bastion – let’s just say a big portion of the treasure was used to buy new pants for Edmund. At first, not having to worry about getting attacked every day was nice, but then it felt unnatural. We were on high alert for several years, and that state of mind isn’t easy to get out of – it reminded me of our good times with Jacob.

It was then that I realized I should try to reconnect with my parents.

It was great at first, but then the opposite happened – I wanted more than just the daily routine. It’s hard to talk about building boats, when you’re literally slayed a dragon in hand to hand combat – and came out unscathed. I thought that it would be good to get away from it all; sometimes I thought we were losing our humanity. But I see Edmund, Amy, and especially Abby as more family than the two in front of me. I have no doubt they love me – but I don’t think they’ll ever understand me. But they do. I even miss Linnfard, a little.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can think of to say.  There’s nothing I can say that will make this acceptable to them; they think they are going to lose me again.

I head upstairs to my room and open the small closet to retrieve my equipment as Edmund requested. The cramped space contains only a few of the basic shirts I’ve grown accustomed to in last few weeks. Off to the side I find my backpack. I know that the contents within shouldn’t fit in something so small.  I pull out the rapier I discovered among the dragon’s hoard – the simple hilt belies the quality of the blade itself – as wonderfully crafted as I’ve ever seen. Edmund and Linnfard warn it is imbued with powerful magic – I’ve yet to use it in battle; I’m certain I will have plenty of opportunity to, soon enough. Next I take out the chain shirt I wore as a second skin for months – and I’m still amazed as how light it is – I slip it on and wonder if it’s only my imagination or if it fits a little more snugly than I remember. I slide on my belt, and trace my fingers on the many integrated pouches – recalling what each section holds.

I systematically don the rest of my gear and pray to Helga that my instincts and muscle memory haven’t dulled too badly. I look at myself in the mirror for a final time. This is what you wished for, I think to myself. Things are about to get exciting. But until then, all I can do is lay on my bed and wait.