Become an explorer like grandfather? Jack forced his expression still, but inside, his mind raced. Why suggest that now? In his past life, the Baron had shown little interest in him. He’d never been invited to join the hunt, and Greaves had not suggested he should become an explorer like his grandfather. “My grandfather was a great man. I hadn’t thought about travelling like he did, my lord.”

  “Oh, we’ll have plenty of time to plan your future.” The Baron smiled. “Just keep it in mind.” He patted Jack on the shoulder again. “We haven’t had a Wandering Scribe worthy of the name since your grandfather passed.”

  Jack resisted the urge to pull away from the Baron’s touch. “Yes, my lord.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  As they neared The Square, the Royal Library loomed ahead, its red-brick towering above the pale sandstone buildings like a blood-coloured sentinel. High above, arched stained-glass windows gleamed, shards of colour glinting like watchful eyes.

  Thank the Gods, we’re almost there. Just hold on.

  The Library’s great wooden doors waited at the top of the steps, their iron rivets jutting out from the weathered timber like the blunt quills of some ancient, sleeping beast.

  Stay calm. Stay patient. One day, you’ll watch him fall.

  “It was good to finally meet you, Jack.” Baron Greaves crossed The Square to stand before the Library. “I have a feeling we’re going to do great things together. The Fates must have brought us together for a reason.”

  He patted Jack’s shoulder once more, a casual touch that made Jack’s skin crawl as once again [Assassin’s Intuition] flared like he was being stalked by a dangerous beast.

  “I’ll see you here Saturday for the hunt.” Greaves’ voice was warm, but his eyes were cold. “I do hope you’re not squeamish about blood.”

  Jack fought the rising bile in his throat, forcing his lips into a smile that felt like it might crack his face. “Six sharp, my lord.” He bowed. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

  The Anubian guards at the Library doors opened them for the Baron. Within moments, Greaves and his beastkin protectors were gone, swallowed by the darkened hall.

  Jack stood alone in The Square, heart hammering and his legs trembling like those of a newborn deer. “Fuck…” He pressed a shaky hand to his forehead. “I have to go on the hunt with Greaves.”

  Every part of him wanted to collapse, to run, to scream, but he forced himself to turn, step by step, and head for home.

  ***

  Jack leaned against the outer courtyard door with a sigh. He’d just come back from talking to the Baron outside the Royal Library, after taking the long way home through the shadowy back alleys to avoid the four adventurers.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “I can’t live like this.” He clenched his fists in anger. Skulking home like a rat, jumping at shadows, avoiding four murderous bastards he hadn’t even wanted to cross paths with. He shook his head, frustrated at the path he was being forced onto. “Why can’t they leave me alone?” He didn’t want to kill random adventurers; it took him away from his plan to deal with Baron Greaves.

  He’d managed to live forty-one years in his first life without ever having to kill anyone. Sure, there had been close encounters, but other than the assassination attempt on Greaves, he’d always avoided fatal violence. Yet here he was, less than a week into his resurrection, and he’d already killed two adventurers… and was considering killing four more.

  “I just want to live a good life and kill Greaves to protect my family. Is that too much to ask?” He glanced up at the sky as though hoping the Gods who’d granted him this second life were listening.

  “Those bastards have to die.” He banged his head against the courtyard door in frustration. “I have to, to save my family from Greaves!” He still hadn’t gotten around to making a copy of the blood magic grimoire from his first life to send to the Inquisition with the likenesses of all the blood mages who sacrificed the orc warrior.

  “Fuck!” Jack drew a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of his mom’s herb garden soothe his nerves. The sweet fragrance of lavender drifted on the breeze, mingling with the gentle buzz of bees among the thyme and rosemary.

  At least the wind’s shifted. He was grateful the tannery’s stench wasn’t in the air. The thought was so normal that it helped calm him.

  A little sparrow flitted into his mom’s herb patch, hopping from plant to plant, pecking for tasty insects. Jack watched it for a quiet moment, smiling as the small bird darted away, its beak stuffed with tiny legs and wings.

  Must have a nest filled with hungry young. Jack smiled as he watched the bird fly away. “Good luck, little sparrow,” he murmured. “Family. That’s why we fight to survive.” He thought about his family. Mom. Dad. Polly. Richard. Zia. It was his nest to protect.

  Feeling a little steadier, he stepped inside.

  “Hi, Mom,” Jack called, closing the front door behind him as he made his way into the house.

  “Hey, Son,” came his mom’s warm voice from the kitchen.

  Jack inhaled, his eyes lighting up. “Hmm… something smells good.” He entered the kitchen and grinned. “Hi, Zia. You look busy.”

  Zia was elbow-deep in a large mixing bowl, her little hands buried in a sticky mess of dough. She looked at Jack’s mom with a shy smile. “M-mom’s teaching me to make bread.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

  Anna beamed, pausing her own chopping, she gave the little girl a hug and kiss on the top of the head. “You’re doing a great job, sweetheart.” The pair, mother and adopted daughter, lingered in that shared moment of a simple hug over bread dough.

  Jack felt a lump rise in his throat. So sweet. He brushed a quick tear away before anyone noticed.

  “We’ll be eating soon.” Their mom turned back to the stove. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  He grinned. “I don’t smell that bad, do I?” Jack sniffed at his armpit and pulled a face of horrified regret. “Sheesh. Actually… yeah, I do.”

  Anna raised an eyebrow, smiling with that same mischievous glint his sister Polly always had when she was about to land a good joke. “I could smell you two streets away. Little Richard started crying as you got closer, he wasn’t happy with you competing with his smelly nappy.”

  Zia giggled and turned up her nose at the ‘smell’. “Pew!”

  “Alright, alright, I’m going,” Jack mock-grumbled, throwing his hands up. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

  Anna chuckled. “It’s not that, Jack. I just don’t want your stink wilting the lettuce. Look at the poor things.” She pointed at a tray of crisp, vibrant lettuces on the counter. “They’re already looking faint. Go. Go. Before it’s too late!” She shooed him away.

  Jack snorted as Zia dissolved into giggles, her dough-covered hands waving him off like a little queen.

  “Alright, alright! I surrender!” he laughed, backing out of the kitchen. “I’m off, I’m going!”

  Chapter 095 A Family Worth Killing For