A discordant chorus of chirrups and birdsong drew Cal’s eyes open. Head heavy, he blinked at the sunlight seeping through the curtains and groaned. I could have sworn I went to bed in the afternoon, so how come it’s morning already? Was I really that tired to have slept for this long?

Memories of the day before floated to the top of his mind then, the very thought of them draining his mental resources and quickly making sense of how he’d slept an entire evening and night away. Oh, right…

Worse still, in spite of everything he’d learnt – which incidentally all happened to be revelations about his parents that he wished he were still blissfully unaware of – he had yet to find anything that’d help him deal with Penbrooke.

With so much to think and act on, it was far easier to plop his head back onto the pillow and pray it would all wash over by the time he reopened his eyes; however, the birds outside thought ill of such a fanciful and delusory attitude towards life, and made clear of their opinion by blitzing his ears with cries, engaging in a holy crusade against his rest to the point he felt the urge to go outside and stone every last one of them.

Forced up by this avian insurgency, he went about his morning routine, only to become stunned when he left his room and caught a whiff of breakfast cooking. Is that Mum? Surely not. Unless… could it be… has she decided to change after I called her out on her lie?

He went down the stairs with the caution of one approaching a mirage, and was met by a plate of freshly made pancakes drizzled with gooey honey on the table.

“Eat up, baby,” his mum said, facing away from him and in the midst of cooking further pancakes, her body swaying to an upbeat hum from her lips.

To say this sight baffled Cal would be to understate the emotional turmoil he felt. If I look outside will I see pigs flying now? Could it be I was mishearing oinks for chirrups and peeps a second ago? “Is today something special, Mum? I can’t remember the last time you cooked breakfast.” Cal laughed nervously, deliberating if such a drastic change was grounds for him to be cautious.

She turned and faced him, and smiled. “I just felt like treating my baby boy this morning, that’s all. I’ve prepared another surprise for you as well.”

“Oh, okay.” Although he was ruffled by this alien behaviour unbefitting of an Ogress, he was also in no rush to complain. Digging into his pancakes, he speculated what the other surprise could be: I did turn eighteen the other month, so maybe it’s a belated birthday present?

He had demolished seconds by the time his mum took off her polka-dotted apron and sat opposite him at the dinner table, prompting the questions that’d piled up as he ate.

“What’s the surprise, Mum? Is it the trip to the capital I asked for this year? Or maybe the Orcish-Circus-Troupe-Who-Double-Up-As-Travelling-Merchants toy set I requested five years ago? No way, don’t tell me you got me the MechaDemon3000 action figure I wanted as a kid?”

“Surprise!” She splayed her hands towards him, her voice a trumpet blast. “I’m kicking you out of the house!”

He stared at her, speechless.

“You know how I went out into the world when I was your age; well, I think it’s about time you did the same, especially since you’ve practically finished school now. I can see you’re already going mad with boredom – what with taking up these silly roleplays and all – so there’s no better time to get out there than now. Also, this way you can find your dad and meet him yourself instead of hearing stories about him through the rumour mill.”

“Huh?”

Her voice took on an emotional lilt. “I know, I know, I’ve coddled you too much, and you’re too shy to go about it yourself; that’s why I figured I’d give you the push to get out there and explore.”

As the initial shock at her revelation faded, Cal had to admit there was truth to what she said (except the last sentence, which was a flagrant and slanderous lie).

He had finished his year at school recently, and although he had another year remaining – after which he could maybe go on to university education – the idea of going out into the world and adventuring like his mum appealed to him far greater.

Moreover, if Penbrooke really was coming back, at least the spirit wouldn’t be able to ruin Cal’s standing with the locals if he was abroad in faraway lands.

As for finding his dad, Cal saw this as the cherry on top to everything else; although the mercenary was questionable by any standards, Cal still wanted to meet the man who’d sired him, even if only to sate his curiosity – of course, assuming he was still out there kicking.

“Alright, I guess,” Cal said after sorting through his thoughts. “Have you prepared anything for me to go with?”

His mum guffawed at him, almost falling out of her chair in laughter. “Your poor, old mother gave up her high-flying career to raise you and even went as far as to make you breakfast today, and yet you still want more from your tragic, overworked mother.”

There were tears at the corners of her eyes from laughing too hard. “Let me remind you: when I left at your age, I had nothing except for my spirit and the clothes on my back. Our family takes no handouts, you hear.”

Cal’s eye twitched; he thought of retorting, but in the end chose to sigh instead: really, it was his fault for expecting better from her simply because she’d cooked him breakfast.

Since he was full now, he went upstairs and began packing his clothes and other items into his biggest backpack, leaving some space as he planned to drop by a few places before he left. He could also always forage for food and herbs off the beaten track, if need be.

Once done with this, he went downstairs to find his mum. “Alright, Mum, I’ve finished packing.” He paused, not knowing how to proceed. “So I guess this is it, then. I’ll be off now.” He spread his arms wide for a hug.

She pulled him into her embrace and squeezed him so tight he thought he’d burst. “I’ll miss having you around, my little Callie boo.” She looked level into his eyes – since she was just shy of his height – and sniffled. “There’s no one else like you around who I’ve been able to laugh at so much over the years.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Ugh, you didn’t have to say the last part.”

She pinched his cheeks and tugged at them. “To think the little shitter toddling about just yesterday would grow up and have the gall to talk back to his sweet mother.” She kissed him on the cheek, forehead, and other cheek. “Now, I want you to remember while you’re out there that laws are little more than suggestions on what to do. I don’t want to hear anything about you starving just because of some stupid morality bullshit – it only becomes a crime if they catch you, alright?”

He faux-coughed into his hand. “Technically that’s not true but sure, okay.”

“And remember to always use protection; I don’t want you returning with a litter of kids from every other harlot under the sun, not until I’ve approved of them.”

“Once again, Mum, I don’t know what you think of me but you didn’t have to say that.” He looked away from her gaze. “Besides, why would I even go for girls like that?”

His mum gave a smug smile and winked. “You’ve got to have some fun while out there, no?” She finally released him from her hug and let him catch his breath.

Then, leaning in close to his ear, she spoke in a low, ominous voice: “And most importantly, when you find your dad with his new doxy, his little sugarmuffins, remember to teach him the meaning of a German suplex and break his worthless spine.”

He looked at her in confusion. “What?! I don’t know what that is!”

Smiling like a sweet, old mother – as if the last comment hadn’t come out her mouth and had instead been an intrusive thought he’d had – she patted him on the shoulder and gave him a gentle push off towards the door. “When the time’s right, you’ll know. Trust me.”

With this, he put on his leather boots and left the house, knowing that lingering about would only make leaving all the more difficult. Yet the realisation it could be years before he returned stopped him a few strides in. He turned around to see his mum standing at the doorway.

Am I imagining the glimmer of tears by her eyes?

Nevertheless, he decided to imprint this moment into his memories: the auburn sun peeking out from behind their house while his teary-eyed mum waved goodbye to him.

Waving back, he became emotional himself and shouted, “Bye, Mum! I love you!”

Cal was now certain she’d been crying as she swiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She then stooped low and reached at something on the ground. His confusion at what she was doing was cleared when a rock was hurled his way, striking the ground beside him with a plume of dust.

“What the fuck, Mum! Did you just throw a rock at me?”

She answered in a voice wrought with emotion. “Don’t make this harder for both of us, you little scamp. Go on, get out of here already.”

He was about to respond when he saw her lob another rock towards him. Jumping back in panic, he quickly got on his way. “Fine, fine, I’m going. Fuck’s sake.”

About fifty feet ahead of their house was a tall hedgerow. He passed through its gate, made a turn, then went several paces further so that he was out of view. Here, he paused and was about to reflect on how he was feeling when his ears picked up a sharp whistling sound.

Making for a sprinting start, he glanced behind to see a fist-sized stone pierce through the foliage and strike where he’d stopped, shattering on impact. “Forget what I said earlier. Fuck you, Mum!” happened to be his last words before he was off.

His first port of call was the village as he wanted to say his farewells to the locals before he left; while he declined their requests for him to join them for one last meal, they were too insistent on giving him parting presents for him to refuse these as well.

Among them, Toothless Tony gave him a sheet of jerky that would come in handy during the long hours on the road; Milkmaid Molly snuck a flask of whiskey into his bag and refused to take it back; and Friar John – who had travelled far and wide in his lifetime – gave Cal a nondescript book titled ‘The Saviour’s Chronicles’ which he said would sustain Cal in his darkest hours.

The Saviour’s Chronicles was a curious book that recorded the Saviour’s travels across the world, through which it provided astute commentary on the various regions and races of Teral. Its style in doing so, however, was unconventional in that it placed the onus entirely on the reader to glean this information which had been craftily hidden in images of ladies of the night from across the world.

Accompanying these images were text that offered magic phrases to a catalogue of services that varied from region to region, phonetically written out in the local language of the area; naturally, this was another clever ploy to distract unwitting readers from the book’s concealed commentary on the values held by different cultures and their various pastimes.

(For example, why was it that Felsia had a significantly greater range of services on offer than neighbouring Swandea, whilst being cheaper too? Or, if one were to suppose that adding the cosplay service typically doubles the overall charge, can you really say the costume roleplay, however titillating, is worth it, then? These were questions that only the greatest philosophical minds of the current age could hope to answer, given the complexity of logical reasoning (to say nothing of the moral quandaries) involved.)

Having flicked through The Saviour’s Chronicles, Cal came to the conclusion he’d need multiple read-throughs as well as considerable fieldwork to truly comprehend its parabolic teachings.

The friar looked fondly on his receptive can-do attitude, and took a moment out to preach to Cal about the not-so-well-known scriptures of the Saviour (which he spoke about in code to prevent any sneaky eavesdroppers from hearing in on the religious secrets; indeed, to any ordinary passersby it would have sounded like he was sharing his favourite locations to visit and what services got his stamp of approval, as opposed to the miracles of the Saviour that he was actually talking about).

Cal thanked the friar profusely, and placed the treasure at the bottom of his backpack so that it was well hidden from any would-be thieves.

The sun was beaming down by the time Cal had gone through all the villagers. Since he wanted to head out before noon, he had an early lunch at Dave’s pub, helped down by two pints, and then set off towards Riversdale, the neighbouring greater village.

This was a journey he’d made many times in the past as he’d attended the school in Riversdale seeing as Greenhorn’s population was too small to support one.

Since the journey took almost four hours by foot, he would stay at a family friend’s house in Riversdale during term time to skip the commute; hence, he planned to stop by Riversdale and bid farewell to his friends and second family there before setting out proper into the wider world.

The hours slipped by as Cal tirelessly marched on under the shade of his straw hat, his thin cotton clothes sticky with sweat, until eventually he spotted the outskirts of Riversdale on the horizon, crop fields littered with the occasional barn or farmhouse as far as the eye could see to every side of him.

Sharing the scene with him was a merchant leading a laden nag, several children playing tag on a grassy meadow, an unassuming cow tied to a stump that was secretly a world champion at staring contests, and many more folk from different walks of life. Such sights grew more common and streets noisier as he neared Riversdale proper and the fields gave way to disorderly rows of wattle and daub houses.

Then came the wall, a stone barricade as tall as three men balanced atop each other’s shoulders, with yawning iron gates permitting entrance into the village centre. There were guardsmen by the gate but they weren’t exactly the guarding type as they were sat around a table in the shade, playing a game of knucklebones.

Despite this, you’d have to be a fool to question their dedication to the job for they were clearly experienced veterans, as evidenced by their foresight in getting snacks and drinks from a nearby restaurant to keep them refreshed during their arduous duties. Not that their alertness mattered, anyway, seeing as Riversdale hadn’t seen any proper conflict in near two decades; the guards stationed here were more as a reflection of the settlement’s growing status than for any practical purposes.

Cal went through the iron gates and continued over paved streets. Within a few minutes, he reached his second home and noted the orange lilies that’d been planted in the front garden since his last visit. They observed in their plant-like way as he approached the red door of solid oak and swung the knocker, the sound reverberating through the building.

As he waited and footfall reached his ears, an inexplicable bad feeling rose up in his stomach. Seeing his shadow on the door and sensing his body burning up from the day’s heat, it occurred to him it’d been a similar time of day to this yesterday when his whole world had been flipped upside down.