Jack entered the washhouse to the strong scent of soap. He’d come to collect the items he’d looted from the rat-faced rogue and the valet uniform trousers.

  “Good day to you. How can I help you?” asked a young woman at the counter. She wasn’t much older than Jack, and her voice was chipper and cheerful.

  Jack smiled and handed her two receipts: one for the cleaned items, the other for the altered trousers. “These items, please.” He couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at the absence of the old, flirtatious dwarf. She was funny… in a weird way.

  The young woman examined the receipts. “They should be ready by now,” she said, gesturing towards the waiting area. “Please, take a seat. I shouldn’t be too long.” Humming a popular bard tune, she disappeared into the back.

  Jack lowered himself onto one of the chairs with a groan. “Ow.” He rubbed the scar on his side; it had twinged again. I hope this doesn’t interfere with my archery practice. He’d already put his exercise routine on hold. Not that he’d started. I’ve got to get fit and good at archery. Fast.

  A few minutes later, the young woman returned with his items, packed into his two packs.

  As Jack headed home, he spotted a small group of young male nobles exiting a high-end restaurant. That’s where Mom worked before Richard was born. He watched the young nobles stride down the road with mechanical canes that could extend into umbrellas with the twist of a gear.

  One of the nobles, a tall hawk-faced young man with blond hair, carried a small automaton monkey on his shoulder, its eyes glowing like tiny rubies.

  “Isn’t that House Greaves’ colours?” Jack muttered as he continued to watch them. He’d noticed the young man’s waistcoat; it looked a lot like the one Baron Greaves wore.

  Nobles, of course, stood apart with their tall top hats, silk-lined coats, and colourful waistcoats. The waistcoat colours were normally related to their noble houses. Jack had always found their top hats absurd. He shook his head and continued on his way as the nobles vanished around a corner.

  ***

  “It’s a real shame this is so small,” Jack muttered, eyeing the repaired leather armour he’d looted from the rogue. The holes had been patched well, and though the quality was average, it was better than nothing. “Ah, well. I’ll sell it along with the spell scrolls.”

  After packing what he planned to sell into the rogue’s pack and his usual scribe supplies into his own pack, he went for a bite to eat before heading back out.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Hey, Zia,” Jack said, entering the kitchen. “Where’s Mom?”

  Zia looked up from shaping a tray of biscuits into little animal figures and smiled. “Mom’s…” she swallowed, “Your mom’s getting some herbs outside.”

  Oh, shit! Jack’s eyes widened in panic. The rogue’s bow and shortsword were still hidden behind the shed where his mom kept her gardening tools. “I’ll go see if she needs any help,” he said, already hurrying out.

  It had been a few hours since he’d promised not to leave weapons where children could find them.

  Jack rushed towards the courtyard, his heart pounding. Oh, crap. If she finds the bow and sword, I have no explanation.

  His mom stepped inside, carrying a tray piled high with fresh-cut herbs.

  “Hey, Mom. I was just coming to see if you needed any help?” He scanned the tray; there was no bow or shortsword, so no need for an explanation. Phew. I’d better move them later.

  Raising a suspicious eyebrow, his mother said, “You came to help me pick a few herbs? Why?”

  Oh, damn. Panic prickled at his skin as he forced a too-wide smile to cover his guilt. “Can’t I be nice to my own mom?” he asked. “You do so much for us and…” He ran out of nice things to say.

  “Hmm.” Anna didn’t sound convinced. She gave him a long frown as she carried the herbs into the kitchen.

  Desperate to change the subject, Jack asked, “Is there anything quick I can eat? I’m heading to the Adventurers Guild soon.”

  She gave a short laugh. “Now it all makes sense. You’re after food… again.” Shaking her head in mock disappointment, she added, “I’m a little busy right now. Why don’t you make yourself a sandwich?”

  “Sure,” he said, glancing around the kitchen. “What can I use?”

  His mom shot him a dry look. “Most people use food, Jack. With all those books you read, I assumed you’d know that.”

  He groaned. “I can see where Polly gets her wonderful personality from.”

  Anna gave him a smirk that wasn’t too different to his sisters. “There’s sliced honey roast ham in the cooler. Add some salad… also in the cooler. And you’ve got yourself a ham salad sandwich. There’s mayo in there, too.” She shook her head, disappointed in having to explain where everything was.

  Jack’s stomach gave a loud grumble. “That sounds really good.”

  Zia, perched at the end of the table, copied him with wide eyes. “That sounds really good.”

  Jack laughed. “Want a sandwich?”

  The little girl nodded, her silver hair bouncing with each movement.

  He grinned. “I was beginning to believe you were on a biscuit-only diet.” He’d seen the little girl eat a lot of biscuits.

  Flushing a soft pink, she said, “They’re really, really, really nice…” Her voice went small. “And they remind me of my mommy.”

  Jack’s grin softened into something more tender. Poor kid.

  Anna reached over and pulled Zia into a gentle hug. “Until we get some meat on those bones of yours,” she said, ruffling her hair, “you can eat as many biscuits as you want… though not as many as Jack.” She leaned in and, with an exaggerated stage whisper, added, “You don’t want his huge, podgy belly.” She placed a gentle kiss on Zia’s head.

  The little girl giggled. Whether at the joke or the kiss, it wasn’t clear.

  “Hey, I’m not podgy!” Jack protested, jiggling his not-quite-flat stomach. “It’s just that my muscles like a bit of… erm… padding to keep them warm.”