Alistair fixed a stern gaze on the shaking Alfred, one that asked questions while demanding answers in response.

Alfred was a young lad. He possessed sky-blue hair that wafted with the breeze and a raven-black jacket that absorbed all light, with blue jeans as dark as the ocean's depths.

Alistair smiled at Alfred. "I see you got what you needed… How splendid!"

His face changed the next second. "Better give a good excuse Alfred… a real good one," Alistair said.

"I-I-I I DO!" Alfred yelled instantly, sweating despite the cold weather while he avoided Alistair's intense gaze.

Alistair raised a brow. "Alright… may I know why you failed to report…? Or would you like to tell Elina this time?"

"I was in a hurry; my father didn't give me time to come!" Alfred replied. He smiled to lighten up the mood. Upon seeing that Alistair wasn't laughing, Alfred stopped.

"Oh!" Alistair walked around the spot with his head faced down, taking in the response.

"That's a decent reason," Alistair said, hands under his chin.

Alistair pondered. 'Should he be punished? Because If I don't, Alfred may repeat it, and who do I blame… Alfred or Elina?'

After contemplation, Alistair decided to leave the matter to their parents: It was above his pay grade.

Alistair stopped strolling and glanced at Alfred. "However, I need to do my part and give a warning," Alistair thought,

"Alfred," Alistair bellowed.

"Y-Ye-Yes!" Alfred responded, panicking as he awaited his judgment.

Alistair paused, and the sweat on Alfred's forehead escalated. He closed his eyes.

"You are forgiven," said Alistair as his gaze lost its pinpoint focus, and Alfred reopened his eyes in shock.

Alistair wasn't done. "However, tell these things before making a decision," Alister lingered.

He squeezed Alfred's shoulder. "OR, you will not like the decision I will make. The next time THIS repeats itself,"

"Yes," Alfred's let out a breath, and his shoulders relaxed. "I won't do it again!"

"Now that's over," Alistair turned to the rest of his company. "I'll be off, so see you guys later."

"Bye!" they said.

Alistair waved at them, and they waved back; they separated and went their ways.

Alistair wandered across the bustling city. Its liveliness increased as darkness descended. People returning from work or preparing for their nighttime shift. Throughout the journey, he passed different themed streets, each with a different theme and setting, with varying color combinations. Alistair relished in the beauty as he transversed the municipality.

The entire journey took twenty-five minutes and sixty seconds; now, Alistair found himself in front of a familiar home.

Alistair opened the gates and walked in, stepping on the cobble path; he trod to the door.

A bearded man stood by the door; he wore a hat on his head. The man donned a white and black suit.

"Good Afternoon Young Sir," the man greeted with a husky voice and a gentlemanly accent.

"Good Afternoon, Reginald," Alistair replied as the man opened the door and got in with him. Reginald moved to the side and strolled to the dining room.

Alistair surveyed the living room with a stoic face, and it hadn't changed one bit. Hence, he moved up the stairs and strolled the hallways.

As Alistair proceeded to open his door—

"Son, welcome home!"

A voice exclaimed from behind. Alistair turned to face the source. Behind him was his mother. She was dressed in a flowing yellow gown intricately embellished with a plethora of glistening jewels.

On her head existed a majestic headpiece adorned with a vibrant peacock feather. Her hand was covered with a show-white fashionable glove that perfectly reflected the golden light of the chamber.

"Yeah, than–" Alistair said, but he was interrupted when Penelope strode to him and squeezed his face. Accordingly, She hauled his face left-right, inspecting it.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The check-up lasted for a few moments, with Alistair feeling uncomfortable. His face compressing not of his command. After Penelope finished, she let go and breathed out in reassurance.

"Thank God you are ok… I was so worried," said a smiling Penelope as she touched her chest.

"Yes, you need to stop fretting so much, mother," Alistair said and shook his head. Every time he returned home, Penelope would check up on him to make sure he was safe, never relenting.

Penelope's complexion turned shocked. "How could I do that? You know anything can happen out there, so I need to make sure my little boy is ok,"

Alistair felt warmth rise in him when she said that, he felt touched by the kind gesture. It was things like this that made him feel at home.

"Fine, I understand," Alistair replied, instinctively looking at the ceiling and wiping the tears from his eyes to prevent Penelope from seeing it.

"That's good," Penelope bent and hugged Alistair. However, he didn't return it; it felt awkward.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere with dad? The Mnester event," Alistair asked, pushing Penelope away from him.

Penelope laughed. "Oh, it's not yet commenced. A few hours remain before it does,"

Alistair nodded in understanding. "Are you sure that l can't come with you?"

"Oh yes, that reminds me," Penelope said with a look of realization.

She pointed at Alistar. " I am taking you to it, so get prepared, young man," Penelope said.

"What…? I thought there was an age limit?" Alistair tilted his head in wait for an answer.

"There was, but it's been removed," Penelope answered.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "What. Why?"

"That, my child, is a secret," Penelope touched Alistair's nose, and she smiled, causing Alistair to roll his eyes with a groan.

Alistair didn't like the rejection, and he thought of how to make her sing. After a few seconds, he had an idea. "Well, if you won't TELL me, I'll be off, mother," he said.

Alistair turned back, held the doorknob, and twisted it. He pushed it open.

"Wait!" Penelope yelled; Alistair grinned.

"Make sure to wear that piece I bought for you, alright!" Penelope said, destroying Alistair's hope of attaining more information.

Alistair was speechless. He got in and closed the door. Penelope, on the other hand, laughed before walking away, leaving him to his devices.

Alistair, on the other side of the door, stepped to a desk. He inspected the room. The room was 10x12 meters and painted in bright white and light-blue color schemes. Red and brown pieces of furniture were placed around the place.

When Alistair walked to the desk, he pushed the chair back. He sat down. Furthermore, he retrieved a notepad and situated it on the desk. He began to write it down.

What he wrote down was a report: about the mission, the task, and the insubordination.

The process took ten minutes, and Alistair then placed it in a safe.

"To think even in another world, I am still documenting things down!" Alistair said. He stood up and stretched his back. All this work for an eight-year-old was bs. However, Alistair didn't have time to focus on the slave drivers as he strode to his closet; he opened it.

Alistair surveyed the set of clothes arranged in a row. He searched for the cloth; his mother informed him to wear. In ten seconds, he caught sight of it.

Before Alistair lay a magnificent ebony-black leather jacket. Its surface was smooth and glistened in the luminous light. Adorned with multiple pockets of varying sizes — it was a masterpiece of both form and function — Instead of buttons, glinting gold chains held the jackets' flanks together like an anchor to a ship.

Accordingly, Alistair felt its soft form and slowly retrieved it, bashing in its gracefulness.

Alistair nodded and picked out another cloth to compliment it: a milky-white silk shirt that shone with the grace of the moon and the softness of the sea and swiss coffee jeans that beautifully matched the clothing set.

Alistair felt touched, and he whispered, "thanks, mom."

Alistair wanted to see what the famous convention was all about.