It was a warm spring morning with the sun rising up across the land. Rays of golden sunshine glittered across the
dewy grass and reached forward, calling in the new day. The town of
Dawn light crept into Garinor’s window and tapped upon his cheek, waking 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 onward 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.
It was then that the messenger came.
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 official-looking 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 seemed to drain 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 looked after she had read the king’s letter.
Weak-kneed, with tears in her eyes, Luinna could barely speak for a few minutes. She tried turning away so her son would not see her, but he had. He couldn’t have missed it. Whimpering sobs escaped her as she sat there, clutching the letter to her breast, as if trying to crush the words into some other message.
“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 that I must obey the will of the king without question or hesitation.” He turned his sharp eyes toward Garinor who sat motionless, still holding the 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 attempts to stop crying gave Garinor a horrible feeling about what was to come. It was at that moment that he froze and didn’t know what to do.
If Garinor should willingly agree, turn to page 5.
If Garinor should request time to wash up and dress first, turn to page 3.
If Garinor should try to flee, turn to page 6.