Chương 17: Chapter 012 Breakfast With Mom And Dad

Jack woke to the sound of cockerels crowing. He groaned as he rolled onto his back. To help him sleep on the hard boards, he'd stuffed his blankets under him as padding.

"Ow. My poor back." Young Jack's body wasn't used to sleeping on a hard surface. At least I didn't have any nightmares, and this isn't Tartarus. For the past two decades, he'd suffered from cruel nightmares where his family died at the hands of Baron Greaves. He took a moment to close his eyes and prayed to the Gods, "Thank you for another day with my loving family; every day is a gift I do not deserve. Thank you." Jack stretched his aching back."

I should have enough time for one more scroll before Mom prepares breakfast." His mother was always the first to wake; as a cook, she tended to rise early. He picked up the ornately decorated wooden case that his father had gifted him and smiled. He planned to use his new pen to create a spell scroll. While the pen was beautiful, it wouldn't impact the quality of the scroll; the skill of the scribe determined the final product's quality.

As he held the silver pen over the blank scroll, he thought about whether to create another [Frost Breath] or [Fireball] scroll.

"They're equally popular." He rubbed his lower back.

"I could do a less popular spell to show the merchants more variety," he murmured.

"Might even be worth more coin." He'd memorised dozens of mage spells in his past life, but most of them lacked a market. Adventurers sought powerful combat spells. Few wanted spell scrolls for detecting undead or for masking smells. Having only sold spell scrolls to one source in his past life, he wasn't sure what was expected of a supplier in Lundun.

"Maybe an earth spell." He knew half a dozen earth mage spells.

"[Solid Ground] is a good one for the swamp floor. That might have a market here." The second floor of a nearby dungeon was all swamp and lacked any dry ground. The lack of dry, hard ground made setting up camp on that floor a problem for adventuring parties who lacked a mage with earth magic spells. He read the spell text for [Solid Ground] aloud before beginning.

"By the steadfast earth beneath our feet, let the trembling soil heed my call, rise and harden! Solid Ground!" Jack spent the next forty-five minutes penning a [Solid Ground] spell onto the scroll with his new pen. As he finished the last rune, he heard his mother preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

"Perfect timing." His stomach grumbled in agreement. After a quick visit to the bathroom, Jack greeted his mother in the kitchen, where the aroma of bacon and eggs filled the air.

"Morning, Mom. That smells delicious."

"Good morning, Jack." His mother glanced at him as she flipped the bacon.

"You're up early. Are you feeling alright?" Typically, he wouldn't wake up for another hour. He smiled.

"Had difficulty sleeping on the hard boards." He made an exaggerated stretch.

"Sore back."

"Hmm." His mom looked concerned, but for once didn't provide an example of a distant relative going to sleep on a hard bed and dying.

"Your mattress will be dry in a day or two."

"You know." Jack grinned.

"It would be karma to give me Polly's mattress and have her sleep on a hard surface for a few nights." He'd not even thought of this option in his past life. His mother looked at him in surprise.

"You'd make your younger sister, a delicate young lady, sleep without a mattress?" She shook her head and frowned. Annoyed, he wanted to say, Delicate lady! She's about as delicate as a brick through a window. She's the idiot who wet all my stuff and threw my books on the floor. Polly deserves it. The miscreant has no respect for books and needs to be taught a lesson. Instead, all that emerged was a quiet, "I suppose not." His mom smiled.

"That's a good boy. You don't treat girls that way. You protect and cherish them." She went back to preparing breakfast for her husband, who they both heard exiting the bathroom. Jack slumped at the table.

"Give me five minutes, and I'll fry up a lovely breakfast for you, Jack." His mother filled a plate with bacon, eggs, fried tomatoes and toast for his father.

"Thanks, Mom, you're the best." He drooled at the smell as his father entered the kitchen.

"You're up early," his dad said to Jack while kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Everything alright, Son?" Jack smiled as he watched his father sit at the table with a large breakfast in front of him. By the Gods, I've missed my family so much. After his family died, he never experienced anything close to a warm family breakfast again. He'd shared breakfast with many people, usually in taverns, but it never felt like this. It never felt like home. How could I have taken all of this for granted when I was young? I was such a fool! He felt blessed to be alive.

He offered another small prayer of thanks to the Gods. His mother answered for him, "Bad night's sleep. He's a little soft and can't handle the lack of a comfy mattress." She went back to cooking.

"You want the same as your dad?" Jack nodded.

"Yes, please; smells heavenly." Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. His dad snorted as he took the first forkful of food.

"That it does, Son. That it does." He smiled.

"Tastes great as well. A meal fit for the Gods." Jack laughed while drooling.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I spent with the army?" His dad had stopped eating. He knew the story, but he shook his head anyway, wanting to hear it again.

"I was a new Apprentice Scribe at the time. Barely twenty-one, and way before I joined the Royal Library. Spent most of my time making spell scrolls to support the army's non-mages." His father gesticulated with his fork.

"Those scrolls saved many a Mercian's life on the front lines. You don't have to be a flashy mage or warrior to make a difference, Son. Scribes are important." He cut up a piece of bacon and dipped it in egg yolk.

"Anyway. I spent six months sleeping on a roll on the hard ground." He smiled as if being uncomfortable was a good memory.

"A few days without a mattress will do you good, Jack. You never know when the King might call up some Apprentice Scribes to support the army." He went back to his breakfast. Jack smiled. His father had told him about his time in the army many times. His dad was proud of serving in the Kingdom's army. After breakfast, Jack had some time to kill while he waited for Polly to wake and leave her bedroom, where her tailoring supplies were stored.

Having nothing better to do, forgetting about his new exercise programme, he created more spell scrolls. By the time his sister had woken, eaten breakfast, and left the house, it was just shy of eleven o'clock; Jack had managed to finish five more spell scrolls.

"Finally, she's gone." Jack searched through his sister's messy bedroom for material to use as a makeshift cloak and mask. She had several boxes of material for practising her tailoring skills, some of which were used to create costumes for the play she and her friends were preparing. While searching through the boxes for a piece of dark cloth suitable for a hooded cloak, he came across some of the outfits his sister had designed for the play. He vaguely remembered what she'd created.

Before him were a flashy outfit for the prince, a bright red hooded cloak for the prince's evil twin, and a uniform for the prince's valet. Examining the red cloak, Jack muttered, "Shame it isn't black. That would be perfect." He frowned at the prince's outfit next.

"Too flashy. Even nobles don't wear something that bright." His eyes landed on the plain, dark valet uniform complete with a matching hat.

"I could pass as a young noble's valet selling spell scrolls for my young master." He examined the hat.

"Did you have to make it look so stupid, Polly?" The hat had a peak, a pair of gold-coloured bands around the top, and to top it off, a fluffy bobble. Deciding on his disguise, he grabbed the valet uniform and tiptoed through the mess of clothes strewn over the floor.

"Does she ever clean up?" he moaned as he stepped over what he prayed was clean underwear before heading back to his room. Since Polly wouldn't return until well into the evening, he had ample time to return the costume. In his room, he tried on the valet uniform. It was a bit tight around the waist, but otherwise it fit well enough.

"This will have to do," he conceded.

"I'll only need it once; after that, I can buy a proper cloak and mask." After changing back into his regular clothes, Jack told his mother he was going out to buy scribe supplies. A couple of streets from his home, Jack froze when he saw the two inquisitors and their beastkin guards moving towards another property.

"Fuck! They're still here." The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. If they scanned him again, would they detect both of his classes? He didn't know enough about the inquisitor class to be sure whether they could read every class and skill a person had. The two inquisitors entered the house, leaving their vigilant beastkin guards outside. How would I explain two classes? He started walking again, a little more wary than before.

Navigating the bustling city streets, Jack sought out spell scroll shops to sell his scrolls to; the capital had quite a lot of them. After planning an escape route, he searched for an alleyway to change into his borrowed valet uniform disguise.

"This place is too busy," Jack concluded. A small number of aether-powered carriages rolled by, their polished brass chassis gleaming, whisper-quiet against the road. They were driven by uniformed chauffeurs, most bearing the sigils of noble houses or prestigious institutions. Red velvet-lined interiors boasted built-in pressure regulators for comfort, and external valves hissed with spent aether-steam. Unlike traditional carriages, these didn't clatter or jostle.

They hummed, their copper-core propulsion systems fuelled by replaceable, rechargeable aether capsules. Jack caught the scent of perfume and pipe smoke trailing behind one of the aether-powered carriages, the smell of wealth drifting through the working-class air.

"I've never liked that smell," he complained.

"Stinks of narcissism." Most citizens relied on horse-drawn wagons, their iron rims squealing as they vied for space with clanking delivery carts, some of which were self-driven. Simple constructs enchanted to follow pre-set routes.

"Move aside, boy," a deep voice pulled Jack out of his thoughts. Two beastkin guards and a noble he recognised walked towards him. Jack froze. It was Baron Greaves!

"Get out the way!" One of the guards shoved him aside. Jack stumbled across the cobbled street, bumped into an old woman and almost knocked her over. He caught himself and the old woman before they both fell, but her basket of shopping dropped to the floor.

"Sorry. Are you alright?" He looked back towards Greaves and his two guards, his fury rising. I'll see you all dead.

"I'm fine," the old woman answered.

"Ignorant nobles," she added.

"Think they own the place." Jack nodded.

"Sorry for almost knocking you over." He began picking up the spilled items and placed them in the old woman's basket. The woman laughed.

"Takes more than a young man to knock me over. I'll have you know, back in the day I was a well-known adventurer." His eyes widened.

"Really?" He picked up the basket.

"Yes. You take me for a liar, son?" The old woman put her hands on her hips.

"No. I was erm…" He was flustered.

"I was surprised."

"I ran an adventurer party." She began to walk while she spoke. Jack had no choice but to follow; he was now carrying her basket. For the next thirty minutes, the old woman described the dungeons her and her party had raided while continuing to shop. Jack was now the official basket carrier. Eventually, the old woman stopped in front of a temple dedicated to Nemesis, the Goddess of vengeance, retribution, and balance. The old woman took the basket from Jack.

"Thank you for listening to this old lady prattle on." She smiled.

"Not many young people these days will take the time to listen." I didn't really have much choice, Jack thought.

"You have some interesting stories," he replied diplomatically. The old woman laughed and walked towards the temple.

"Don't forget to visit Nemesis; she has a temper, you know. And look after the little one, you'll need her on your journey."

"What?" Jack replied, but the old woman had already entered the temple. She's right, I should visit. A nearby clock tower's bell rang to mark the hour. But not right now; it's already midday. He turned on his heels and rushed back towards the spell scroll shop he planned to visit first. There was a single lightning flash in the sky followed by a crash of angry thunder. Jack stopped and looked up, expecting rain, but the sky was blue with only wispy white clouds. No rain came.

"That's strange." He continued on his way, oblivious to a vengeful God's anger.