Jerrick released a long, weary breath as Roche came into view. The familiar silhouette of the town stirred a flood of memories he had tried hard to bury. Roche—once their haven, once the place where he and Jessamyn had built their happiest moments. Now it was a place too painful to return to. He hadn't set foot here since the day she died, unable to face the emptiness that her absence had created.
But this was his fief. He was their lord, their protector. No matter the grief that clawed at him, he had a duty to them. He needed to stand by them, even if the weight of his loss was like a stone in his chest, pressing down on every breath he took.
As Jerrick approached Roche, still an hour away, a figure on horseback came charging toward him through the dim evening light. The rider's silhouette was unmistakable, even in the shadows—Bernard, his ever-loyal friend and steward.
