7:39 AM.
Across the Kingdom of Lordaeron, not to far from their capital city, was a simple mansion atop a small green hill. It was made out of fine Stone masonry, beautiful flowers growing out all around it with a stone pathway right in the middle leading to the grey iron gate. Marble columns decorated the front porch and so forth.
Just inside the double doors was where the Presoor family made their home. There were four of them, but we'll get to that later. This tale focuses on one on particular.
Upstairs, fifteen steps down the right hallway, on door number seven, laid a sleeping boy. Sleeping in on the morning as was his normal routine. The room was darkened, thanks to the silk covers shielding it from any sunlight that the large square window on the far side of the room would allow in.
The boy slept with the covers over his entire body, the only thing pray telling to the fact there was anyone at all was the unseen force causing the sheets to raise up and down.
"Jaggo!" Cried a muffled voice from the end of hallway, followed by footsteps that echoed off the walls of the unnaturally quiet home. "Jaggo!" The voice called out yet again, finally provoking a soft "Nyaah…" from under the sheets.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Jaggo! Wake up!" Sounded the voice a final time, the knocking becoming increasingly loud with each fist pounding down on it. "I don't wannaaa…" Came another muffled voice from under the sheets.
BANG.
"No…"
BANG.
"Nooo…"
BANG.
"IN A MINUTE!" The boy yelled, nearly launching himself straight off his bed as he busted from under his blankets. Then, once more, all was quiet.
"Ugggh…" The boy groaned, both hands running through his light brown locks before he fell right back down onto the sheets. Within an instant he was up again however, his first target being the window on the far side of the room. With two quick movements, they were pushed wide open, the invading sunlight illuminated the entire room.
The boy himself was now covering his eyes and groaning again, having not yet adjusted to the brightness. He was quite short for someone his age, that being the first noticeable thing about him. His light brown locks being disorganized and being out in every direction. Finally, he lowered his pales hands away from his face, his brilliant sapphire-like eyes seeming to almost sparkle in the direct sunlight. The boy took this moment to examine himself, being clad in nothing else but silk plaid pajamas.
With the shrug, he groggily dragged himself to the other end of the room, throwing his clothing in a pile by his bed where things he was to lazy to take care of usually went. He opened his drawers, being absolutely nothing else but fine silken suits and a few leather hunting outfits. Not that he ever went hunting. He really didn't care much for killing animals in any way really.
Before long he'd adorned himself with his nice fancy clothes, again, not something he cared for. He took two steps to his left, double checked every single shelf that had toys lined up from left to right to make sure not one was out of place, and then opened his door. Immediately he was faced with another almost exact replica of his own door on the other side of the hallway. The only difference being his had a large golden sign that said "JAGGO'S ROOM" nailed to his.
Turning to his left was the same hallway pattern repeated over and over. The pattern being smooth wooden walls and red wooden doors with the exact same golden door knob on every side of the seemingly never ending hall. Down that hall was another hall exactly like it, and to the right, yet another hall. Again, exactly like it. But to the left held FREEDOM from the never ending and boring abyss.
As the boy, whom we shall now refer to as "Jaggo" exited his personal hell, his footstep rung out with a loud echo as his shoe hit the marble flooring. In front of him was an iron railing, marble spiral stairways on his left and right leading down to the floor only about thirteen feet or so down below. In the middle of the floor was a very large and cursive P. Clearly being the main logo for the family, if it wasn't obvious enough already.
Beyond that was the front door to the mansion, which was most of the time strictly off limits for our hero Jaggo.
Each step down the stairway echoed off the walls. The parents must be gone, and the servants hard at work in the more "social" areas of the mansion if you would. Even so, it wasn't normally this quiet here.
Perhaps making the perfect opportunity for…
"AUGH!" Jaggo cried as he was shoved against the wall. "Heyyy buddy…" Came the voice of the taller and much stronger figure that was holding the collar of his shirt.
This man's name was Alistair, older brother to our hero. He bore almost a frightening resemblance to Jaggo, minus the fact that he braided his hair to keep it in check, as well as the fact his own hair seemed to be far brighter shade of brown then the small and fearsome child he was holding. "Fancy seein' you here."
"I live here idiot…" Jaggo retorted with a glare, though he quickly received a punch straight to the gut for his ignorance. "Cute." Alistair said with a sneer. "I do hope you haven't forgotten our morning routine. I'm thinking I might take Robbin out for a nice dinner tonight, but I'm lacking a few of the necessary funds…"
Before the brutish teenager could finish, he was cut off as Jaggo took aim and launched a near perfectly on target spit ball straight into his target's eye. "You little…" Jaggo knew what would happen next, he would be receiving another black eye that he would be forced to lie about in front of his father. But the real question was, was it really worth it?
….
Yes, yes it was.
"ALISTAIR!" called a female voice just moments from when a fist would have impacted Jaggo's face, causing him to be dropped, and fall straight to the floor with a thud. "What in the name of fel are you doing to your brother?" She demanded, hands on her hips as she piercingly glared at the elder one of the two.
"N-Nothin' mi'lady…" Alistair responded, bowing slightly as nobleman like as he could. "I was just having a friendly chat with my little brother was all…"
The woman in front of them, dressed as a maid, continued to glare at the teenager across from her. "Kitchen. Now." She ordered, pointing to the double doors on the far left side of the living room which was just across from where Alistair and our lazy hero was laying.
"Yes Ma'm." Alistair said with another bow for rushing through them."Dooon't mind me…" Jaggo whimpered as he dragged himself to his feet. "Ya know. I'm juuust fine and everything." He said, giving a sarcastic thumbs up to the woman across from them. She only gave him a nod, before hurrying back to join the rest of the servants. Jaggo would have liked more time to properly thank her however. Her name was Rebecca, though most people in the house referred to her as "Nan", as strange as that sounded.
Jaggo could do little else but sign, and dragged himself into the lounge, before falling forward and face planting right onto the cushion of the sofa.
He'd should have figured there wouldn't be anyone up and about today. Tonight was the big night after all. His father was gathering most of the nobles in Lordaeron for a large ball, and so most of the servants were rushing about preparing tables, entertainment, food, and several other things.
Today was just a normal day to Jaggo. But oh, was he so very, very wrong.
