Jack let out a long breath and slumped into his chair as he heard the front door close. His body sagged as the fear drained away. Damn, that was too close. He wasn’t even sure what was too close, but he felt like he’d avoided an early death.
“That was scary,” Polly said as she wiped her sweaty palms on her dress.
Jack nodded. You have no idea.
“Don’t be silly, Polly,” their mom said. “They’re doing good work protecting us from evil.”
His sister nodded. “They’re still scary. Those glowing eyes.” She shivered. “When she touched my hand, it felt like she was… she was looking into my soul.”
Jack nodded again.
“I wonder what happened?” Polly said.
“Probably nothing,” Jack lied. “I bet they’re just randomly knocking on doors so it looks like they’re working hard.”
Polly nodded in agreement, but their mom disagreed. “Don’t be disrespectful to the Inquisition, Jack,” she warned. “Only last week they stopped a group of stupid teenagers from carrying out a dangerous ritual.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Jack replied.
Their mom popped little Richard back in his cradle. “Well, that’s my schedule completely ruined.” She looked at the now warm food on the stove. “I can fix this.” She set about getting her kitchen back on track.
Their mother, an Expert Cook, was preparing orders for a few local merchants and street vendors. Hand pies, spice rolls, and smoked cheese tarts that would sell out in the first hour. She used to work under a Master Chef in a high-end restaurant near the Crystal Spire district. A lavish place known for its noble-only clientele and gold-plated clockwork automaton serving staff that moved with grace between tables with silver trays balanced with mechanical precision.
With Richard still in nappies and prone to sudden, operatic wailing, returning to that fast-paced kitchen was off the cards for now. Her side work brought in extra coin to supplement their father’s earnings as an Expert Scribe at the Royal Library.
Polly looked at the time. “Damn it! I’m going to be late for rehearsals again!”
“Language, Polly!” her mother snapped. “A young lady doesn’t cuss like a common sailor.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Okay, Mom,” she replied while rushing out of the kitchen.
Polly was meeting friends to work on a play. An ambitious endeavour by a dozen teens with no budget and no clue, desperate to gain experience towards the classes they hoped to accept at sixteen. As a would-be tailor, she was designing all the costumes, using a battered leather sketchbook and an inherited set of enchanted measuring tapes. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was a real-world task that could tip the scales towards her chosen path and might even open up a range of other classes.
***
Stepping into a fresh morning breeze, Jack paused and took a deep, appreciative breath. The cool air carried the sweet fragrance of lavender from his mother’s much-loved herb garden. The courtyard’s old blue tiles at his feet were cracked, just as he remembered. The gentle sound of nearby birdsong reminded him of his father’s passion for country hikes, where he’d watch and sketch birds and other wildlife.
Leaving the courtyard behind, Jack inhaled deeply, catching the faint aroma of the tannery several streets away; sharp, acrid, and familiar. It clawed at the edge of his memory, the scent of boiling lye and wet leather mingling with the ghosts of his long-forgotten childhood.
Rounding a corner where the cobbled street narrowed between leaning sandstone and timber buildings, Jack heard the soft chime of a gearwork clock tower several streets away mark the hour. “Nine in the morning,” he murmured to himself. I’ve been awake three hours, I hope this…
A sudden burst of laughter snapped him from his thoughts. A group of young beastkin children, with twitching furred ears and bouncing tails, came pelting down the cobbled street, weaving between puddles and shouting in high, joyous tones. They wore patched uniforms and battered satchels that clattered as they ran, late for lessons.
Out of instinct, Jack reached for his dark, hooded cloak, already bracing for the children’s flinches, the recoils, and the frightened looks… only to stop halfway. Of course, he didn’t have a cloak, and more importantly, he didn’t need one.
The children rushed past without hesitation, not giving him a second glance. One girl, a little foxkin with mismatched buttons on her coat, offered a wide, gap-toothed grin as she darted by. Jack turned in place to watch them disappear around the corner, their laughter echoing down the lane like birdsong.
A gentle smile spread across his face as his hand lowered from where it had hovered near his collarbone. No silent stares, fear, or screams. Just normal.
A tear slipped down his cheek. He let it fall. For the first time in twenty years, he didn’t feel like a monster skulking in daylight. No longer the hideous burn victim whose appearance made children cry and women cross the street. No longer a man who winced at his own reflection.
He stretched out his arms, tilting his face towards the sun as it crested over the slate-covered rooftops. Its golden light caught the brass piping that lined the nearest buildings, casting a warm glow over riveted window frames and a row of clinking wind chimes made from discarded gear springs. Somewhere above, a whirring messenger drone, a clumsy little beetle-shaped thing, buzzed past overhead, casting a brief shadow across the cobbles.
“Today would be glorious,” Jack murmured, his voice a low whisper. “One of my best…” He turned in place, arms outstretched as if to embrace the whole city. His pulse beat with a quiet, rising joy. The breeze was refreshing, the streets were familiar, and the pain and shame. All gone. He looked up into the clear blue sky. “If only this were real.”
by TheLazyDreamer
What to Expect:
? Cunning Protagonist
? Rich World-Building
? Unique Destiny Manipulation (LitRPG-Adjacent)
? Romance and Family Building
? Epic Conflicts and Intriguing Mysteries
