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063 Helping Mom With Breakfast

  Jack woke, feeling groggy. “Another nightmare…” he whispered, rubbing at his face. He turned his head to glance at the clock. Quarter to six in the morning. “Up early again,” he muttered with a sigh.

  He stood and stretched, his limbs feeling heavy, his muscles aching. “I think I need to take a day or two off…” His body was sore and tired, but compared to the pain of the burn scars of his forty-one-year-old body in his past life, it felt easy to ignore. He’d been pushing through, but the exhaustion was beginning to build.

  Jack sat at his desk. “What should I do today?” he murmured, rubbing at his temples. A memory flashed; the arrow plunging into the mage’s throat, the gurgling breath, the blood.

  Shaking off the bad memory, he thought of something positive. I want to do another archery session with Nessa and Ella. He smiled, thinking of how much fun they’d had last time. Would be a shame that Toma won’t be there… I wonder how his archery practice is going?

  The boy had likely gone home to practise like he’d promised. “I wish my life were that simple,” Jack murmured, shaking his head. He checked the time again. Only a couple of minutes had passed. “I have to pick up my new suit later,” he reminded himself. He smirked. “That won’t take more than half an hour…” He already knew how it would go: he’d put it on, the tailor would inspect the fit, find nothing wrong, and he’d be on his way.

  I could grab the greatsword… He shook his head at the thought of going back to the alley behind Ron’s Diner. “Nothing dangerous today.” That thought, of course, led straight back to the three remaining adventurers and the nightmare.

  Jack slumped forward, resting his head on the desk with a sigh, his hands over his head in despair. “I don’t want to be a killer,” he whispered. “I-I’ll avoid the other three. I have a mask, a cloak… I can hide. They’ll forget about me after a few weeks… won’t they?”

  Jack knew the truth; he was deluding himself. He’d killed three of their party. He didn’t know how close they were to each other, but most adventurers didn’t let things like that go. Not after a few weeks. Not even after a few years, they’d remember and take revenge.

  Unless he could remain hidden for years, it was only a matter of time before he had another run-in with them. And once he started work at the Royal Library, the issue would become untenable. Every weekday morning and most evenings, he’d be walking home with his father. No mask, cloak, or hiding down back alleys.

  Sooner or later, he’d have to face them again.

  “Fuck!” Jack let out a low groan, rubbing his face where it used to be scarred. “What should I do, PenDragon?”

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  At the sound of his name, the little six-inch toy dragon perched on the shelf lit up, its tiny eyes glowing bright blue, ready to obey.

  He gave a tired smile as PenDragon released a soft puff of aether-steam.

  “I agree,” Jack murmured. “I don’t know either.”

  With no better ideas, he set to work inscribing a spell scroll. As he was finishing up a [Chronos Sphere] scroll, he heard his mom moving around downstairs. He glanced at the clock again. Quarter to seven.

  “Huh. Mom’s running late…” Jack noted. Usually, his mom would be in the kitchen preparing his dad’s breakfast by six-thirty. He stored the finished spell scroll in a book and headed downstairs.

  “Everything okay, Mom?” he asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

  Anna shot him a quick glance over her shoulder. “Richard had a bad night,” she sighed. She cracked an egg into the frying pan. “Teething. So I’m running a bit behind.”

  Jack smiled. “Need help preparing breakfast for Dad?”

  His mom froze mid-egg crack and turned to look at him. “You want to help? Really?”

  Jack felt a faint pang of indignation. “Of course. It’s just breakfast.”

  Anna’s lips twitched into a smile. “You can fry eggs.”

  Jack paused for half a second. Was that a question or an order? Shrugging, he gave a determined nod and stepped forward to take over at the pan. “How many eggs should I fry?” he asked.

  His mother chuckled. “I assume you’re hungry?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Six will be enough for the three of us,” she said, setting sausages under the aether-powered grill. “If Polly wakes, add two more. One for Zia.”

  Jack set to work, cracking and frying six eggs while his mom prepared the rest of the meal.

  “What’s your plan for today?” Anna asked, warming three plates in the oven.

  “Thought I’d pick up my new suit, maybe spend an hour at archery training, then take the rest of the day off,” Jack said, spooning hot fat over the frying eggs.

  Anna gave a smile. “You’re looking tired. Maybe you should skip the archery for a day or two?” She popped slices of bread into the aether-powered toaster.

  “I should be fine with most of the day off,” he replied, pulling the warmed plates from the oven and plating up the eggs. “I don’t have anything planned for tomorrow.”

  “You’ll want to be fresh for the hunt on Saturday,” Anna murmured with a small frown. “I still don’t understand why anyone enjoys hunting deer that way.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t get the appeal either.”

  He’d spent months in the forest in his first life, hunting rabbits, deer, and game to train and survive, but he’d never enjoyed it. He’d always felt guilty killing defenceless animals, and when he did, he made sure to use the meat, the skins, and the bones, not just kill for sport.

  His mom nodded. “Nobles are strange that way.”

  The hunt consisted of hunters on horseback with bows, and groups of deerhounds driving the deer towards the hunt. There wasn’t a great deal of skill involved for the hunters; no tracking, or waiting, the hunt wasn’t far off from shooting fish in a barrel. The only redeeming feature was that they’d later dine on the kills.

  As they worked on breakfast, Jack’s dad entered the kitchen.

  “Morning, Jack,” his father greeted, kissing his wife on the cheek before sitting. “You’re up early again.”

  Jack smiled. “Helping Mom with breakfast… so if you find eggshell in your meal, that’s all on me.”

  His dad sat at the table. “I’ve had worse.”

  His mom laughed and set the three breakfasts on the table before they ate together, chatting over food.

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