Back at home, Jack was happy to no longer have so many blood-soaked items in his room. He cleaned his weapons and the other items he’d recovered from the dead rogue; they required a wipe with a damp cloth.

  After scrubbing the dried blood from his 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, Jack sheathed the dagger and tidied up the 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 by. Then she retrieved her bag and followed Anna into the kitchen.

  Jack brought in 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.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Tiring.” She yawned. “So, you can make your mom a nice cuppa tea.” 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 mage would be 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.

  If he chose assassin, he’d have both distance and close-up options for attack. Plus the assassin skill [Shadow Veil], which 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 his head imaging 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.

  ***

  In the evening, Jack presented the sketches of the six adventurers to his father. Jack’s father had already spent almost ten minutes in silence, examining the six sketches and reading through the information and cover letter intended for the city guard.

  Across the table, Jack waited with bated breath, hoping everything was up to his father’s high standards. He knew his dad wouldn’t speak until he had examined the documents and reached a conclusion.

  “Do you want another biscuit, Jack?” His mother broke the silence. “Little Zia’s moved on to more complex biscuit recipes… but the results never seem to last long,” she added with a teasing smile at Zia.

  Zia was hovering over a fresh batch of biscuits straight from the oven, fanning them with a tea towel to cool them faster. But when she caught sight of Anna talking about her, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she stopped wafting the cooling tray.

  As tempting as Zia’s biscuits were, Jack shook his head. He was determined to wait until his father had finished analysing his work.

  Fifteen minutes later… “This is exceptional work for a new Novice Scribe, Son,” his father declared, tapping on the table. “I can only dream of what you’ll be capable of in the future.”

  Shit! He’d forgotten that, in his father’s eyes, he’d been a Novice Scribe for a handful of days, not an Apprentice Scribe for over twenty years. A flush of embarrassment rose in his cheeks. “Th-thanks, Dad.” He scratched his neck as he tried to think of something to say. “Like father, like son?” It was all he could manage in response. His voice was uncertain, and he felt like an impostor in his own skin.

  A rare chuckle escaped his father. “Credit where credit’s due, Son. This is exceptional workmanship, Jack.” Placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, he continued, “Take the praise and be proud. You’ll go far at the Royal Library. I’m sure of that.”

  I need to lower the quality when Dad sees my work. Desperate to steer the conversation in a different direction, he asked, “So… Dad… is the cover letter acceptable?”

  His father, recalling the true purpose behind the sketches, nodded, “Yes, yes. This will be more than adequate.” He tapped a finger on the cover letter. “You’ve included more than enough detail to identify the six adventurers without drawing undue attention to yourself or our family.” Gathering the small stack of papers, he added, “I’ll have these delivered to the city guard in the morning.”

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, that’ll be the end of that drama.

  Dreadspire: The Weakest Druid

  Dreadspire was a single-player game designed to break the unbreakable.

  Eryndor Leafshade, he found himself trapped in the body of a druid, the weakest playable race in Dreadspire.

  Dreadspire proves that no one was ever meant to win.

  Only the strongest may ascend

  REACH THE TOP FLOOR AND CLAIM YOUR WISH