94 First Mission

A new day rose along with Thomas out of his bed. Scratching at his messy hair, he squinted his blurry eyes to focus on his calendar. All the previous days were marked with simple 'x's except for today, which was circled in red. Rubbing his eyes cleared up his vision only to be blinded by the light crystals that automatically switched on when the sun rose. Cursing, he threw his sheets off himself in a ball at the foot of his simple wooden bed and put his hands in the way of the light.

"Yes!" He screamed as he lept out of his bed and put on his clean silk clothes, nearly ripping through the fabric. His hair practically flew into its usual combed state. He pulled out his bag from under the bed and blew the dust off it. After equipping it, he turned towards the door, a wide grin on his face. "Today's the day." His front door flung open. His father walked through.

"Good morning father," Thomas had to stop himself from shouting, almost forgetting how early it was. "I'm ready." He tried to push his way past, but his father stood firm in his way.

"Good morning Thomas, did you sleep well?" Reginald asked as he inspected the room. "I think I need to get the servants to spruce this place up." Thomas waited, knowing Reginald wasn't here to ask how he was doing. His father turned around from his slightly messy room, having run out of reasons to stall him and wearing that look of concern that had kept him trapped in the mansion for nearly his entire life. "Did you pack everything?" He snatched Thomas's bag, dumped the contents on the bed, and sorted through it. "Where is your spear, the one I gave you for your birthday?"

"Right here father," Thomas sighed as he brought his birthday present out of his spatial ring. Its tip was dull in luster but sharp where it counted. The Darkwood shaft had been painted over with a mix of green and blue, making it seem like one of his family's roses. There was a bump right under the tip in the wood. Reginald grabbed it and inspected the tip. "I had it sharpened a couple of days ago. There is no need to worry." Thomas stuffed his things back into his bag and took his spear back.

Reginald sighed and sat on the bed. "Yes, I know there's no need to be so worried. It's just one mission after all," he chuckled but the look on his face didn't change. "And you're sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Thomas held his spear up. "This kind of thing is what you've been training me for, right? How could I not be ready for a simple mission? It's not like I'm going to the academy yet." He walked for the door, reaching his hand for the doorknob, hoping his father would run out of things to say, but to his dismay, the man continued.

"If you fail, I'll be here. It's ok if you're not good at this kind of thing. Just be safe." Reginald stood up and hugged his son. "Follow Frey and Doevm. They will protect you." Thomas gave a quick hug and wormed his way out.

…

Reginald sighed as he watched his son run away from him. Glancing back at the bed, he said, "It's different without a crib in here." He picked up the wrinkled pajamas that were rolled up in a ball, and set them in a laundry bin, lest poor old Liz have to hurt her back picking them up.

The bookshelf in the corner of the room had books haphazardly strewn all over - except for a single, well used book: "The Adventures of the Heroic Arthur." The pages were folded over and the spine, cracked. Reginald opened to a page, recognizing in a second where in the book it was, since he had read it to Thomas many times as a bedtime story. "I guess I should have seen this kind of thing coming." He fixed the pages and set it down. Hung next to the window, which looked out to the world, was a recent painting of him and Thomas. "Be safe."

…

Thomas hurried to the kitchen, stuffing a bit of food into his spatial ring. Before he had the chance to sneak out, he heard Owen stamping his foot on the white tile. "What are you doing here young master?" The chef insinuated. "Here to steal the desserts again?"

"No," Thomas said in between bites of crispy bacon. "I'm leaving on a mission and won't make it to breakfast. This is good. Have you been practicing?" He licked the grease off his fingers.

"A little," Owen said as he looked at the pile of food next to him. "I hope Frey likes it. If I could just show him…" He rubbed his chin, already forgetting what he was talking about. Thomas said nothing and ran out, leaving Owen inside a kitchen filled with curse words. He laughed, which stopped as he halted before Liz.

"Sorry Liz, excuse me." Before the old maid could scold him for running in the house for the thousandth time, he dove out through the window she had just opened. He fell two stories, ending with a roll that put all his momentum forward. Getting to his feet, he discovered himself in the front garden, where Jameson, Frey, and Doevm were waiting for him. "Good morning everyone." He rubbed the dirt of his back. "Sorry I'm late. My father was a little hard to get around."

"I hear you," Jameson nodded. "But don't make this a habit. Stand with the rest." Thomas got in line as Jameson handed each of the three slips of paper. "Written here are your mission details. Fifteen thieves have been an increasing headache over the last few weeks. We have never had enough manpower in reserve to deal with them, but the three of you should be enough. I have to go accompany the lord on some trading deals today, so you will be by yourselves."

"Fifteen?" Thomas jumped back. "How are we supposed to deal with all of them?"

"Five people apiece." Doevm shrugged as he put the paper away. "It's not like they're as strong as us. They're just normal people. It'll be easy to eliminate them." He turned back to Jameson, dramatically swinging his limbs into a salute. When Thomas followed his gaze, he found Jameson with a red face, a vein bulging out of his forehead.

"Young master," Trickles of spit flew out of Jameson's mouth and onto Thomas's face. "If you were my soldier and you showed me that kind of disrespect, I would have punished you with near hell-training. Don't do this again."

Thomas blinked and looked to his two soon-to-be comrades, who were paling by the second. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

Doevm and Frey facepalmed: "Let's just go." Jameson waved them off. Thomas walked past the gate few times in his life, and this was one of them. His outburst and confusion were forgotten as he stepped on the gravel trail, finally away from his cage. The sun was brighter. Rose scents no longer filled his nose, replaced with the smell of dirt. Frey and Doevm walked in front of him. He smiled.