Chương 73: Chapter 046 Rust And Ribbons (Part 2)

A little while later, the ribbon was dry. Jack retrieved the weapon, and Anna and Zia tied it back onto the hilt of the sword with a slow, loving precision it deserved.

"That's right," Anna said.

"Hold your finger there while I… there done." She gave Zia a smile.

"This time you can tighten the knot, and I'll hold the loop in place." Zia smiled. She tied another loop and knot while talking her way through the process.

"T-tie a loop around the sword." She looked up to Anna, who nodded.

"Pull it tight." She waited while Anna put her finger on the single knot.

"Loop it ar…" It went wrong, and she looked distressed. Anna kept her finger on the single knot, holding it in place.

"It's alright. We can take a hundred tries until we get it right." With determination, Zia nodded and tried again.

"Loop it around the other loop and…" she slid one loop under the other, "…and pull tight." A tear ran down her cheek.

"Yeah," Anna cheered as the loop was tightened. She gave it a few adjustments to secure the knot and make it look pretty.

"Perfect. Well done, sweetie." The blue fabric was faded and frayed now, a perfect match for the ribbon that still adorned Zia's hair. The little girl smiled as she ran a finger down its length. She looked up to her new mother.

"Thank you."

"When you're ready to talk about your mommy and daddy," Anna brushed Zia's hair from her eyes, "I'm here for you." Zia didn't speak. She buried her face in Anna's shoulder and tightened her arms around her new mom, resting her head where she felt safest. And in that quiet moment, surrounded by warmth and belonging, some small part of her broken heart felt like it might one day be whole again.

Jack and Zia spent some time drawing at the dining table while their mom prepared dinner. He sketched the twisted limbs of the apple tree outside. The little girl drew a big-eared donkey with a cape and a crown.

"What's that?" Jack pointed to the picture.

"It's my donkey, Sir Donkey Don?" Zia answered.

"He's Sir King Donkey Don now." She nodded.

"He rules the Garden of Carrots."

"Long may he reign over his pea -ple." Jack chuckled. Zia didn't get it and continued to colour. They coloured for an hour in peaceful silence, the gentle ticking of the kitchen clock and the bubbling of the stew pot filling the room.

Evening came, warm and golden. Polly returned from her rehearsal looking tired. Their father returned home from work and sat at the kitchen table reading the Lundun Gazette.

"There's been another murder in the slums," Jack's father said as he read the paper.

"An upstanding mage this time. He was only twenty-four and already an Apprentice Mage." He shook his head.

"Must've been a talented young man. What a loss to Mercia." Jack's eyes widened in horror. More like a junky hooked on Wraith's Hunger. He took a deep breath.

"What happened to the mage?"

"The papers speculate it was an archer due to the accuracy of the wounds." He shook his head.

"They believe it's related to the other killing in the area. They suspect it's a rogue group robbing lone adventurers for their belongings." He tapped his fingers on the table.

"What's this city coming to?"

"That's terrible," Jack lied while shaking his head. Thank the Gods they are blaming others. Anna gestured towards Zia, who was listening to the conversation with a worried look.

"Less of that sort of talk at the kitchen table." Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Sorry." Jack offered Zia a smile. Their father nodded and continued to read the paper. During dinner, Jack's father again quizzed him on noble etiquette and like before, he answered all the questions adequately.

"You're well prepared." His father smiled.

"This could be a big opportunity for you, Son. If the Baron takes a liking to you, perhaps we'll be working together within a few years." His smile widened. Jack returned the smile; the thought of working at the Royal Library at the side of his father would be a dream come true.

"I'll try my best, Dad." After dinner, Jack helped their mom put Richard to bed. He sang an old lullaby under his breath, the one their mother used to sing to Polly. Anna and Zia stood by the door, listening.

"You remember that?" Anna ruffled Zia's hair.

"Every word." Jack had read a book of lullabies in his past life, so with his [Perfect Recall] skill, he knew multiple versions of the lullaby. Later, Polly sat knitting costumes for the play, muttering about "stupid ruffled sleeves." Zia curled up on the rug with a book, her head resting against Jack's leg as he sat beside her reading one of his own.

It was a novel about a holy paladin whisked away to a strange fantasy world where flying ships sailed without magic, and there were no monsters, only far more wars than in the real world. They ate the meringues they'd made earlier. Zia said they tasted like sugar clouds. No one disagreed. Mom had her feet up and was drinking tea. Dad was doing the crossword puzzle in the Lundun Gazette. Jack felt content and happy. The house felt alive… it felt like he was home.

That night, Jack stood at the window, watching the city lights flicker beyond the rooftops. Tomorrow would be horses, nobles, and pretence, but today had been his. He looked across at his riding outfit, hung on a peg, ready for the morning. Everything he needed for the hunt was there.

"I can't believe I'm going on a hunt with Baron Greaves." He imagined shooting an arrow through the Baron's dark heart. He shook his head.

"No thoughts like that tonight." He smiled.

"We've had a good day. Don't ruin it." Despite the earlier incident with Zia's father's sword, it had been a good day. The discovery and restoration of the blade felt like a quiet kind of healing for the orphaned girl. That evening, after supper, Zia had stood for a long moment in Jack's room, gazing up at the scabbarded sword hanging on the wall. Jack had lowered it so she could reach it. Her tiny fingers brushed the hilt and the frayed blue ribbon that adorned it; she'd smiled to herself.

Then, with a soft sigh, she turned, gave Jack a long hug and a kiss on the cheek. She padded down the hallway to bed, leaving the sword where it belonged: safe, watched over by Jack and PenDragon, a piece of her father that she could now carry with her in heart as well as memory. Earlier that day, Jack had spent a couple of hours using [Perfect Recall] and [Copy Text] to create a partial copy of the unencrypted blood magic grimoire.

"I should've completed this yesterday and delivered it this morning." Jack shook his head. He'd got caught up in spending time with his family and had put it off. He stacked all his evidence together: the twelve sketches of the noble blood mages, details of how they performed a forbidden blood magic ritual sacrificing an enslaved orcneas, and the encrypted and unencrypted partial copies of the blood magic grimoire.

"That should see the bastards hang." Jack placed the evidence in an envelope and sealed it. He wrote: Important! For The Inquisition. Across the envelope and hid it on his bookshelf. Jack grinned as he imagined Baron Greaves' smug face when the Inquisition confronted him. I'd kill to be a fly on the wall when they arrest him. He climbed into bed, the warmth of the day still in his bones. When sleep came, it was peaceful with no nightmares.

He dreamed of a picnic by the River Tamesa, beneath the dappled shade of willow trees. The sky was a perfect blue, with lazy clouds drifting above and the soft hiss of aether-steam boats passing by on the distant water. A chequered blanket was spread across the grass, weighed down with baskets of food: golden-crusted pasties, jars of spiced chutney, sugared apples, and a still-warm loaf of his mom's honey-butter bread. Anna sat cross-legged, slicing cheese and humming a tune.

His dad was nearby, sketching birds in his notebook. His bowler hat was tipped back, and his eyes were squinting in concentration. Polly had claimed a corner of the blanket for herself. She was putting on a dramatic performance with crusts and carrot sticks for an audience of one: baby Richard, who squealed with delight every time she flung her arms wide. Zia sat beside Jack, her legs tucked beneath her and her ribbon fluttering in the breeze. She fed bits of fruit to an imaginary donkey.

She giggled whenever Jack added new titles to Sir Donkey Don's name.

"Sir Donkey Don, the Lordly High Chancellor of the Royal Carrot Brigade, of the King's Barmy Army," he said, and Zia almost choked on her apple. He patted her on the back before creating a new title.

"Sir Donkey Don, the First Grand Magus of the Royal Peashooters, of the Academy of Silly Magics and Trifles." They laughed, ate, and dozed under the shade of the tree. The world was gentle, and time didn't matter. In the dream, he didn't worry about tomorrow. Just the sound of laughter, the breeze, and the feeling of being whole. It was just them, together. A perfect family.