A family of three exited a stadium as part of the large crowd, the young boy talking animatedly about the match. The father smiled lovingly down at his son, hugging his pregnant wife close as she too reveled in the family moment. It was a picturesque moment for all, and one another watched jealously from a corner. A hint of pain and loneliness were visible too, if one knew where to look.
Gerald sighed as the family disappeared from view, swept up in the crowd of happy fans and joyous gamblers as the tournament finally wrapped up. It was fortunate the stadium could magically portray events within on the outside of the building, allowing for those too busy or too poor to enter to witness the action and still feel apart of the city’s culture. Labyrinth City was very big on insuring as many as possible of its citizens were kept up to date with events, whether it was from the town criers shouting the news on the corners, the local newspapers, or the magical projections of news and events that floated up public squares.
Such was the magical nature of Labyrinth City, the still recently changed capital of Bosrol, central country of the humanity civilization’s northern part. Whether it was the vast and bountiful farmlands that grew the county’s wealth before the discovery of the labyrinth, or the establishment of the Adventurer’s Guild that brough untold wealth and authority, or even the great university that invented so many of the modern inventions that made life easier and special, no one could claim that any other place was as influential as Labyrinth City.
Gerald, to his credit, didn’t disagree with any of that. However, as the son of busy guard captain and seamstress, he would have been more than happy trading all of that away for a different life somewhere else. He sighed, before walking away and back toward his mother’s store.
The bell above the door rung as he entered from the front, parcels of fabric from the market in his hand. “Mother, I’m brought the order,” he called out.
One of the clerks walked over and accepted the delivery from him with an apologetic nod. “The mistress is hard at work on her new designs in the back,” she explained in a low volume. “She is one of her specials moods again.”
Gerald could only sigh and nod his head.
“Alright then,” he said. “Was there anything else that needed to be done Hilda? Any notes she left for me?”
“Just to prepare dinner for you and your father once he gets home,” Hilda said, giving the younger man and comforting pat on the shoulder. “Sorry Gerald, you know things get with the upcoming season. If she doesn’t come with new styles, the store will lose prestige.”
“Yeah, yeah I know,” Gerald muttered. “Alright Hilda, good luck with everything.” He turned back and left ‘Boutique Magni Montague’, one of the top fashion brands in the city. Young women looked on through the windows in awe and happiness at the beautiful dresses, hats, and more on display through the glass, the elegant mannequins magically posed to shift every hour. Gerald ignored them and made his way down the paved cobblestone street towards home near the wall.
He managed to get there as the sun was beginning to set, unlocking the front door before picking up the milk delivery and carrying it into the indoor kitchen. He sat the glass bottles down on the counter before opening the trapdoor to climb down and bring up the empty bottles from the cold room, switching them with new fresh milk and setting the now empty bottles outside to be picked up later.
After bringing up some meat and cabbage from the cold room, Gerald went outside and grabbed a few eggs from the henhouse and got to work cooking. The sun was in the middle of setting when his father came home, and Gerald had the meal completed right on time. The young man had long ago got the timing down for cooking coinciding with his father’s return.
“Smells good boy,” Gerald’s father noted as he entered the kitchen, his tall form covered in light armor with various pins on the front gleaming in the candlelight. “It’s good and right for a warm meal to be ready when the man of the house returns. Right and proper.”
“Sure da-, I mean father,” Gerald quickly corrected himself before serving the older man. “How, was work?”
His father merely huffed as he took a seat and got to work on the food. “Mostly a typical day, save for those crowds coming going for that tournament event. Had to throw more than couple drunks into the holding cells, and broke up a couple of angry gambler fights. My recommendations to increase personnel for this week has once again shown my insight and abilities to the higher ups, I’d say. Had to push my point across to get it through of course; city’s trying to save silver on security again.”
“Good for you father,” Gerald said, hiding the click of his tongue as he sat down to join his father.
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“We wouldn’t have so much trouble of the tournament was held elsewhere,” his father continued, complaining now. “I don’t care how much the gold the merchants claim come into the city, it’s already enough of a hassle corralling the adventurers from causing trouble. I can’t tell you how many more burglary and thievery complaints we guards have had to deal with this week alone.”
“I’m sure you’d love to try,” Gerald mutter quietly under his breath as he poked his supper.
“If you ask me, all of that, the tournament and that sport, are just more trouble than their worth,” his father continued. “All that silver and gold spent, all those lives put at risk and trouble had, and for what? It’s all just imaginary at the end of the day. None of it’s real, and one of it matters. Hell, these days you don’t even need to gather those whatchamacallits yourself; you can just go to a store and buy them to play with. Real sports involve training, hard physical training that makes a real man. Even after you stop playing, your hard work stays with you. They stop playing, and what do they have? Just a sparkly rock on a wristband they hope is worth something to sell to someone else. Almost fraud if you ask me.”
“Uh huh,” Gerald said, long since having tuned out his father’s rant. He was startled when his father suddenly turned the conversation onto him.
“Speaking of, how did your training go today?” came the unexpected, though it shouldn’t have been, question.
“Oh, um,” Gerald stammered. “Well, I went through the list this morning, and at lunch mother sent a messenger asking me to do some errands for her, and then I came home and got supper ready.”
Gerald’s father paused in his eating and looked up at his son with a frown. He tapped his knife on the plate. “The full list, boy?”
“Most of it,” Gerald admitted slowly, keeping his eye on his plate. “I, did the rest while doing mother’s errands; the squats and such.”
“What did she ask you to do today?”
“Picking up orders for her.”
His father’s frown deepened. “You didn’t stop to watch the tournament, did you? Stadium is right between tailer street and your mother’s boutique.”
“I, got a look,” Gerald got out before his father let out a loud sigh.
“I’ve told you boy, ignore fads like that,” the older man lectured. “Bad enough your mother has to keep up with the latest trends, but at least she has to for her job. Your job right now is training up to be a strong and capable guard since you finished your education. You need a stable job to find a good wife, and with my backing you’ll be able to find the opportunities to show off your worth. You have to think about your retirement son, your long-term plans for life. You can’t be stuck wasting time, or lords forbid coin, on illusory hobbies. We are a family of guards, soldiers, fighting men. It’s what we’re good at, and it’s what has brought us success and stability.”
“Yes father,” Gerald sighed. At his father’s grunt, Gerald corrected himself. “Yes sir.”
“Good lad,” his father nodded. “When you’re done with dinner, go outside and finish your training. I’ll wash up the kitchen for you.”
Gerald nodded and finished his meal, placing his plate and utensils in the wash basin to be cleaned. He paused as a meaty palm clapped down on his shoulder.
“Boy, I understand,” came his father’s voice from behind him. “I was young too once. At least you aren’t chasing skirts and drinking like I did back then; your grandfather had to practically wring me into the man I am today, and I’m thankful for it. I just care about you, son, and worry about your future.”
“I know, sir,” Gerald murmured.
His father patted his son’s shoulder again, a little awkwardly. “You’ll thank me one day son, once you have a home of your own and a pretty wife with children of your own. It’s hard work that makes a man successful at the end of day. Now, go train. I’ve got the kitchen.”
Gerald merely nodded and went to the back. A benefit of having a home near the wall that surrounded the city was the backyard that allowed space for chickens and gardening. Nothing taller than a henhouse was allowed to be built within 40 feet of the wall to ensure thieves and assassins couldn’t use rooftops to assist them in scaling the wall, and to allow the patrols atop the wall ample space to see anyone moving towards the wall. His father had constructed a roof-covered patio with various setups for working muscle as per his requirements to keep in shape for his job, and Gerald had long since been trained on proper form and technique.
The young man, not quite 18 summers, got to work without much thought. He took and his shirt and silently stretched his muscles in preparation, his mind playing though his life, his future, and his father’s words. There was likely some, if not a lot, of truth to the older man’s words, but Gerald just couldn’t quite find the drive in his heart for that vision of the future.
Originally, the young man had dreamed of becoming an adventurer, a common dream in the city dominated by the profession thanks to the labyrinth at the city’s center. He’d even sneakily filled out all the paperwork to work as a trainee when he turned 13, but unfortunately his father had gotten wind of the young teen’s plans and had quickly put a stop to it using his parental authority. The receptionist had been somewhat sympathetic, but with his father in the way nothing could be done. Gerald had even briefly considered running away from home at the time, but with every guard in the city knowing his face, the option hadn’t panned out.
As he swung the training sword with the weights hanging off his body, Gerald thought about the match he’d watched from outside the stadium. In truth, he didn’t know too much about the game known as CardCore, only that it was highly related to adventuring and involved some travel to acquire new ‘cards’, as he understood them. The other guard kids Gerald often found himself with didn’t know too much either, lacking both interest and time to learn more.
Still, Gerald’s 18th birthday was tomorrow. Legally, he’d be an adult. Considering his father hadn’t brough it up, it was likely the older man was going to forget it again. His mother was a forgone conclusion, since she lost track of everything when she was on a designing rampage. Something his father mentioned at the table played in Gerald’s head as he swung his sword. There were stores for CardCore now.
Perhaps, tomorrow, he’d investigate a little more about that.