The sun rose up across the land, bringing in a warm spring day. Rays of golden sunshine glittered across the dewy grass, illuminating the town of Paligar. The town was a bustling place, loaded with shops and homes and wondrous scents from the bakeries.
The sunlight beamed through Garinor’s window and woke him from a deep night’s slumber. He roused himself and stretched deeply, yawning into the morning air. He smiled and thumped onto the floor, ready to race to a hearty breakfast, the scent of which wafted through his door.
Pounding his way to the breakfast table, hair all askew, Garinor greeted his mother warmly with a glowing smile and puffy eyes that still had not fully adjusted to the burgeoning daylight.
“Good morning, son,” she welcomed him. “Sleep well?”
“Hmm-hmph,” he muttered around some bacon and eggs, while reaching to smatter some butter on his toast.
She tousled his hair and shook her head, turning to the kitchen to fetch herself some juice. “Save some for your sister and brother, will you?”
Garinor looked up with a frown. “Father isn’t home yet?”
She shook her head. “Nor will he be for a while now. Go on, eat up.”
A loud rap sounded on the front door and Luinna, Garinor’s mother, opened it. A young man stood in the doorway, covered in the officious garb of the king’s guard. He wore a pointed helmet without the face guard, a red cloak, and a gleaming leather vest. One of his gloved hands clutched a parchment sealed with purple wax. His face was rather grim, Garinor thought.
“Forgive me this intrusion upon your morning,” he greeted with a bow of his head. “Word comes for the master and mistress of the house.” He held out the parchment for Garinor’s mother.
The color drained from her face and she reached a hand forward and took the parchment. Garinor could see her hesitation and it irked him. He had never seen her look so shaken. It was nothing, however, to how she appeared after she read the letter.
Weak-kneed, with tears in her eyes, Luinna could barely speak for a few minutes. She tried turning away so her son wouldn’t see her, but he had. He couldn’t have missed it.
“You understand, I fear, the contents of the letter, milady,” the guardsman said somberly.
“I do,” came the response on a breath without voice.
“I regret I must obey the will of the king without question or hesitation.” He turned his sharp eyes toward Garinor, who sat motionless, still holding his toast in his hand. “Boy, you are to come with me immediately.”
Something about the tone of the man’s voice and his mother’s distress gave Garinor a horrible feeling about what was to come. He froze and didn’t know what to do.
Garinor should request time to wash up and dress first.