Chương 36: Chapter 023 Exceptional Work For A New Novice Scribe (Part 1)

After completing a [Chronos Sphere] spell scroll, he stood, stretched his stiff legs, and hobbled downstairs to the kitchen in search of a snack.

"Hey, Mom," he called out, "any chance of a bite to eat?"

"Good timing," his mom replied as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Zia's first attempt at buttermilk biscuits is nearly ready."

"Hi, Zia," Jack greeted as he settled at the table, still feeling the soreness from the previous day's battles. He couldn't help but let out a soft groan as he found his seat. Zia offered a timid smile.

"Hey, Jack." Hard to believe she's the same street kid who tried to pinch my coin purse, Jack thought, noting the flour smeared across her cheek and the tip of her nose.

"Working hard, huh? I hope my mom hasn't got you doing all the cooking now?" he teased. The girl shook her head.

"No, no. Your mom's great…" she trailed off, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

"She's really, really nice," she added in a whisper, her eyes lowering to the floor. His mother patted Zia on the head.

"You've been a delightful companion for this old lady. Unlike my troublesome son and daughter, who only show up when they smell food," she added with a theatrical sigh, just as she opened the oven and pulled out a tray of freshly baked biscuits.

"They smell amazing," Jack said.

"Did you make them?" he asked Zia. She nodded and fiddled with the end of the blue ribbon tied through her silver hair, a bashful smile forming as she watched the biscuits cool on the rack.

"It's her very first attempt at baking," his mom explained with a smile, placing the steaming biscuits onto a cooling rack.

"Now we get to sample them." She shot Jack a look that said, 'You are going to like them!' Moments later, the three of them were biting into warm, fresh-baked buttermilk biscuits. Jack's biscuit was a little misshapen, but still a biscuit. With a careful bite, he was rewarded with the delicate crunch of the crust, giving way to a soft, pillowy interior that melted on his tongue.

"Hmm, that's nice," he murmured. The tangy sweetness of the buttermilk, balanced by a buttery richness, made him want more. For a few blissful moments, the aches and bruises from the previous day's battles faded, replaced by the simple, comforting pleasure of a warm, imperfect biscuit.

"They're really good, Zia," he said, offering the little girl a thumbs-up before devouring another, this one shaped more like a squashed, lopsided slug than a proper biscuit. Then another, and another…

"Are there any more?" His mother laughed.

"Nope, that's it. Well, Zia. I think we can safely say Jack approved of your baking." Zia smiled as she nibbled on her last biscuit like a little mouse.

"My mommy makes me these," she said in a hushed voice, a tremor of sorrow threading through her words.

"I miss her." Tears welled in her eyes. Moved, Jack's mother knelt and pulled the girl into a hug.

"It's all right, dear. I know she'd be glad you're safe now." Jack felt a knot of emotion rise in his chest. He knew that pain; he'd lived with it for decades. Though his eyes brimmed with tears, he managed to blink them back, calling on the quiet stoicism his father had always shown. He still didn't know any of the details of how Zia came to be alone, but her panicked reaction at the mere mention of goblins hinted at a dark, traumatic past. Something he wasn't sure she was ready to talk about.

After the comforting, misshapen snacks, Jack returned to his room, determined to craft more spell scrolls and channel his focus into the work he loved. Jack crafted a handful of spell scrolls, allowing the rhythm of the pen and the familiar smell of ink and parchment to calm his thoughts. When his mom left to run errands in the city, he took full advantage of the opportunity.

His mom's sleuth-like instincts for uncovering secrets were inconvenient at the best of times, especially when said secrets involved the bloodstained possessions of a now-dead, rat-faced rogue. The rogue's cloak, bow, and short sword were retrieved from the courtyard and smuggled back inside. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. He examined the bow.

"Poor quality. No wonder he wanted to steal mine." Next he examined th short sword.

"At least he kept it well maintained." He placed it with the bow, planning to sell them later. Jack cleaned the rogue's cloak the best he could with a damp cloth and hid it back outside to dry with the rogue's bow and shortsword. Back in his room, he cleaned the other items he'd recovered from the dead rogue; the gloves and arm guards required a wipe with a damp cloth.

After scrubbing the dried blood from the rogue's and his own dagger, he settled in his room and used the looted whetstone to sharpen the tainted blade.

"You've already saved my life twice," he murmured as he ran the blade over the wet whetstone a dozen times. The weapon didn't require much sharpening. Satisfied with the results, he sheathed the dagger and checked the quality of the rogue's dagger. It was worse quality than his current blade.

"I suppose I can keep it as a backup." He wrapped it in a piece of cloth and hid it behind his books before tidying his workspace. With nothing else requiring his immediate attention, he began crafting a [Chronos Sphere] spell scroll. No sooner had he put pen to paper than he heard his mother return. I wonder where she's been? Leaving his work behind, he went to greet his mom.

"Hey, Mom," he called from the stairs. He watched as his mom hefted the baby's heavy pram over the front step.

"Stupid, bloody step." She struggled to steer the bulky pram through the narrow doorway. Trailing behind her was Zia, carrying her own small bag.

"Ah, Jack." She sounded relieved.

"Could you help me bring in the bags, please? They're not heavy. I'm just tired, and I never would've made it through this flipping doorway with them dangling from my wrist." Anna bumped the pram with extra aggression to prove her point.

"And Richard needs changing, so I'd appreciate the help getting him in the house quicker."

"Oh, yeah. Sure, Mom." Jack wanted to rush and help, but the hallway was too narrow for him to pass by. He watched his mother with a wince as she bumped the wheels of the pram into the hallway table. Anna leaned over Richard's pram and nudged the table a little out of the way. When she moved again, the wheels caught on the umbrella stand. She sighed with frustration.

"Zia, could you move that out of the way for me, please, sweetheart?" She pointed at the offending wicker basket stuffed full of umbrellas. Zia set down her own bag in the hall and, without complaint, squeezed past Anna to remove the offending item from her path.

"Thank you, my love." Jack's mom gave the little girl a warm, grateful smile. Zia jumped onto the bottom step beside Jack, making space so the pram could pass. Then she retrieved her bag and followed Anna into the kitchen. Jack retrieved the remaining two shopping bags from the door and lifted them onto the kitchen table.

"Did you buy anything good?" He poked his nose into one of the bags. Turning, his mom exchanged a look with Zia.

"Didn't I say he'd be sniffing around for food the moment we got home?" Zia nodded and giggled.

"A-are you hungry, Jack?" Jack smiled.

"A little, but that's not why I came downstairs." It hadn't been the original reason, but now that food had been mentioned, he realised he was famished, and his stomach gave a loud rumble to prove it.

"I just came to say hi." He felt a twinge of guilt, even though he wasn't lying.

"Hmm, hmm," his mom hummed as she placed the baby in the cradle.

"So you don't want something to eat then?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that." Jack smiled.

"How's your day been?" he added in a weak attempt to steer the conversation away from a topic that was making him look bad.

"Tiring." She yawned.

"How's your injury? Any problem?" Jack shook his head.

"A little sore, and my body feels like I ran two marathons in my sleep." He laughed.

"So, you can make your mom a nice cuppa tea then?" She grinned.

"Or be my hero and change your little brother's stinky nappy." She flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, kicked off a shoe, and began rubbing her foot. Jack went to make a cup of tea. His mom's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

After a delicious meal, Jack spent the rest of the day crafting spell scrolls while contemplating which class to choose, if he had a choice. His plan was to wait until he'd made a firm decision before visiting a temple.

"The mage classes are so tempting…" Jack was examining a finished [Chronos Sphere] spell scroll he'd just completed.

"But I should choose assassin or maybe rogue." He stored the spell scroll inside a book on his shelf.

"But, being a time mage would be so amazing… So many interesting magical concepts to study and understand." He stood for a moment staring at a book on his shelf titled Three-Hundred-and-Twelve Secondary Mage Spells. He'd been trying to decide what to do for hours. This was in effect a 'free' choice. He had a combat class and his scribe class. Although he'd love to choose Journeyman Scribe, in reality, it was a poor choice.

As a sixteen-year-old, he couldn't openly use any non-novice scribe skill, and so, he was debating what to choose instead. He could always choose Journeyman Scribe after reaching level 25 in his archer class in four or five years' time. Even then, he couldn't be seen using Journeyman Scribe skills. If he chose assassin, he'd have both distance and close-up options for attack. Plus the assassin skill [Shadow Veil] would allow him to blend into dim light or shadows.

As a backup, he'd have spell scrolls like [Fireball] and [Frost Breath].

"Librarian, Researcher, or Linguist class skills would truly complement my scribe skills," he argued… to himself—Again!

"It would make working at the Royal Library more enjoyable." He nodded, imagining how useful the Novice Librarian skill, [Cross-Reference], would be while researching.

"What if the Inquisition doesn't deal with the Baron, and my archer skills aren't enough? Assassin or rogue skills would complement my archer skills. Stealth might keep me alive." Jack activated his [Inscribe Spell] skill as he started another [Chronos Sphere] scroll. As he put pen to paper, he thought about his future choice. Maybe I should choose Inquisitor just to see what their skills are. He chuckled at the thought.