Enthusiastically I showed my family Jasper’s letter and announced that I was to begin my Rogue training in Northshire. Although my grandfather agreed immediately to Jasper’s suggestion to ‘ship me off’, my mother was not smitten with the idea. Her reaction included a swift snatching the envelope off the kitchen table and hiding it in her office, for ‘safekeeping’ as she claimed.

The tavern had been full to bursting point the last few days and she argued that they would need all hands available to them to serve the guests. However, I was sure that she only used it as an excuse. She had been very reluctant to let any of her children go since our father had died. Not that she was overly protective. As a matter of fact, she loaded Jenn, David, and me with work in the tavern whenever she could.

I did not mind it. Although, I tried to sneak into the SI:7 and convince them to take me on as an apprentice, I liked working in the tavern. But admittedly, I could not picture my life spending behind the bar, serving food and drink while listening to people’s stories of their travels and adventures. I wanted to write my own stories of travel and adventures instead.

Two days after Jasper had slipped me the envelope, he came to the tavern again and asked to speak with my mother in private. Unfazed by it she agreed and the both of them retreated to the back where her office was located. Jenn and I, however, exchanged puzzled looks.

Unfortunately for me it was a rather busy day at the tavern. Soldiers from the nearby Stormwind Keep came to enjoy their lunchbreaks, and Jenn and I were busy serving drinks and food, while my grandfather ever present, manned the bar. The rare occasion when I could catch my breath, I causally wandered into the back trying to catch snippets of the conversation between Jasper and my mother. But alas! Each time I was called back after a few seconds by Jenn.

“They are in there for quite a while now,” my grandfather remarked as I appeared behind the bar counter.

“I guess so.”

“What do you think they’re talking about?” He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes. I shrugged my shoulders.

“Aren’t you curious?” he squinted at me, and his lips formed to a smile. I avoided looking at him and instead kept my hands busy with cleaning up empty mugs. He probably did not expect a response. He knew I was curious. He did not even hide the familiar melody in his words, the one he always had in his tone when he was teasing me. I sighed and rolled my eyes at him – my typical response to his teasing – before I went back to serving customers.

It felt like an eternity later when Jasper finally re-emerged from her office. It was already late afternoon. The place had quieted down but most of the seats were still filled by soldiers. They probably had a day off.

Jasper did not stop on his way out. He caught my eye as he reached the door. With only a brief nod in my direction, he left the tavern. For a minute I stood there staring at the door. I had completely forgotten about the small group of soldiers at whose table I was standing, until one of them tapped my arm and asked if they could order now. Embarrassed I stammered “sorry” and forced my gaze to them. Putting on my best smile and attitude I took their order – three ale, one coffee, and braised lamb shanks for everybody.

I had not forgotten about Jasper’s private conversation with my mother, but since Jasper had already returned to the SI:7 and I could not leave the tavern, I tried to subtly inquire my mother about it. Whenever possible I randomly appeared by her side and made small talk, remarking about the crowded main tavern or the customers liking of the braised lamb shanks. Then I would casually drop comments such as “Too bad Jasper left so hastily. I think he would’ve liked the lamb shanks.”

In theory, it was a good plan. However, every time I mentioned Jasper’s name or commented on the amount of time the both of them spent in her office, my mother would send me off to do some ridiculous tasks. The first time, she complained about the pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen and promptly told me to clean them. The second time she made me restock the wine bottles, and another I had to wipe down the entirety of the second floor.

Usually, I would moan and complain. Not so much about the restocking, and more about the cleaning. However, intending to stay on her good side for once I complied and performed every task with only minor moaning.

When evening approached, I could finally pry myself away from the main floor. I stumbled through the door behind the bar leading into the narrow hallway connecting the kitchen, storage, and my mother’s office. Exhausted I let myself drop to the floor, leaning against the wooden panel wall.

Within three hours I had aged over twenty years. My feet and back were aching. My voice was raspy, and in the dim light of the corridor I could swear that my eyesight was deteriorating rapidly. Although the unpleasant feeling of thirst crept over any other sensation, I could not be bothered to leave my somewhat cozy spot on the floor. I couldn’t remember the last time I had worked that hard in the tavern.

Only a few minutes had passed by until the door to the tavern opened with a creaking sound.

“I told you many times, that we don’t sit on the floor in the corridor,” I heard my mother’s sharp voice scolding me.

“Sorry,” I muttered as I rose to my feet, my limbs stiff. I did not turn to look at her and shuffled away towards the farther end.

“Hold up!”

I sighed and turned around, facing her. Her hand was outstretched towards me, holding an envelope. The exhaustion of the day was suddenly blown away and replaced with joy and excitement. I looked up at her. Her face was only partially visible in the candlelight, but the look in her stern eye was unexpectedly soft. I reached my hand out and closed my fingers around the edge of envelope.

"Promise me to come back," she said in a low tone before she let go.