A Ballad of Wandering Bard

The morning sun bathed the training ground in a soft, golden glow as the group stood beneath the great oak tree. Tyrn faced them, his usual laziness replaced with something quieter, something harder to read. In his hand, he held a wooden staff topped with a green gemstone.

"So," Tyrn said, his voice carrying a rare seriousness. "This is it, piglets. Time for me to move on."

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

"You're leaving?" Ryssa asked, her tail flicking nervously.

"I told you. Your lessons are done, and there's no point in me hanging around. But before I go..." Tyrn paused, holding up the staff. He stepped toward Ryssa, handing it to her with a faint, almost fond smile.

"This belonged to your grandmother," he said. "It was the first staff she gave me when she officially made me her disciple. She said it'd serve as a reminder that even the brightest flames start as kindling." His gaze softened as Ryssa took the staff, her hands trembling slightly. "It's yours now. Make good use of it."

Ryssa swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for everything."

Tyrn turned to Dorian next, pulling a sleek wooden flute from the folds of his coat. A small, polished red gemstone adorned its length.

"This is for you," Tyrn said, holding it out. "Got it on one of my expeditions. It's enchanted to amplify sound, you've been mastering flute. Should be useful for your... unique way of using music."

Dorian took the flute, inspecting it with a mixture of awe and reverence. "Tyrn... where do you even get these things?"

Tyrn smirked faintly. "Travel enough, piglet, and you find treasures worth keeping."

Turning to Bogo and Lucas, Tyrn scratched the back of his neck. "Now, for you two. Since neither of you care much for magic..."

"Hey!" Lucas interrupted. "I care. Kind of."

"...I thought I'd give you something more suited to your interests." Tyrn reached into his bag and pulled out two heavy tomes, handing them over.

Bogo's book had intricate designs on the cover and a title embossed in gold: The Machinery of Progress: Mechanisms from the Capital. His eyes lit up as he flipped through the pages.

"Bogo," Tyrn said, "this book has designs and theories straight from the capital. You've got a sharp mind—sharper than most—and I think you'll be able to use this to invent some ridiculous contraptions. Good luck."

Bogo grinned. "Thanks, Tyrn. I won't let you down."

Lucas eyed his gift warily: a worn book with a simple title, Meditation and Inner Flow of the East. He frowned. "Meditation? Why this?"

Tyrn shrugged, his lazy demeanor creeping back. "It's from the East. And since I have a suspicion your mysterious technique might be from there too, I figured it wouldn't hurt."

Lucas opened the book and skimmed a few lines. His frown deepened but was accompanied by a touch of curiosity. "Alright, fine. Thanks... I guess."

"Oh!" Tyrn added as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "Almost forgot. This is for Bogo."

He handed it over, and Bogo opened it to reveal a detailed drawing of a sword—a slender blade with a curved edge, the design clearly different from the straight longswords commonly used in the kingdom.

"It's a shape I remember from the East," Tyrn explained. "Lucas would probably be more comfortable with this type of sword than the ones from here. Make it for him when you're ready."

The group exchanged glances.

Dorian tilted his head, inspecting the flute and the other gifts. "Tyrn, where did you really get all this? Does it have to do with your mysterious 'safeguarding' mission last year?"

Tyrn sighed, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. "When I said I was safeguarding something important, I also meant this." He gestured at the items. "And you piglets, indirectly."

Lucas's voice caught slightly as he asked, "We're important to you?" His eyes glimmered, threatening tears.

Tyrn raised a hand quickly, his face flushing with annoyance. "No, that's not what I—"

Before he could finish, the group surged forward and wrapped him in a collective hug. Dorian hooked one arm around Tyrn's neck, Lucas and Ryssa squeezed his sides, and Bogo clasped his arms.

"Stop this at once!" Tyrn barked, trying to pry them off, but his protests were drowned out by their laughter and the warmth of the moment.

By the time they let go, Tyrn straightened his coat with exaggerated irritation, though his faint smile gave him away.

"I'm leaving now," he muttered, stepping toward the path leading out of the village. "Don't get yourselves killed doing something stupid, piglets"

The group watched as he walked away, his staff resting casually across his shoulders. Along the way, villagers called out their farewells.

"Safe travels, Tyrn!"

"Don't be a stranger!"

"Take care, you lazy bum!"

The innkeeper stood by her door, waving fondly. "You were a pain sometimes, but you'll be missed."

Tyrn gave them all a lazy wave without turning around, his pace steady as he headed toward the horizon.

The group stood at the edge of the village, watching him disappear into the distance.

"Well," Ryssa said after a long silence, "I guess we've officially graduated."

Dorian smirked, looking at his new flute. "And the world just got a lot bigger."

Lucas clutched his book and parchment, his grip firm. "Then I guess we'd better get ready for it."

The four friends turned back toward the training ground, their hearts filled with bittersweet pride. Though Tyrn's departure marked the end of one chapter, it also lit the flame for the adventures that lay ahead.