Around 2:30 PM.

Alistair had been at that training range for light knows how long. Very few soldiers came and went, none of them ever stayed for longer then five minutes. So thankfully he'd had the entire place to himself. The most ideal thing here though was the fact he could curse and scream throughout the entire thing and never get scolded once.

Be barely even noticed the time either, nor the fact that by the time he got home he'd likely be smacked by every servant in the house. Father was going to be home soon, and he would not be happy. Not happy at all.

Of course it was his fault. Not that'd he ever admit that though.

3:30 PM.

There was clanking, footsteps, the sound of curtains being torn down then hung up again. The entire house was in a frenzy of decoration. Everything needed to be perfect. Absolutely EVERYTHING. Not one small thing could be out of place. Tonight was going to be big. Tonight was going to be huge. Tonight was going to be HUGE. Okay maybe not that big but you get the point.

And what was Jaggo doing? You guessed it. Still being the lazy slouch he was. Not for long though.

There was a loud and echoing creaking sound coming from behind him as the front door opened. Our hero excitedly leaping off the sofa in anticipation it would be one of his parents. Five seconds later, his hopes and dreams were agonizingly crushed. It was his bitter old Uncle Whatshisface. He always forgot his name. Not that it was important since he barely even saw him each year. Most of the time it was just an envelope with a silver coin in it. Such a cheap bastard.

However unlike every other time he'd come here, this time he actually smiled at the boy as soon as he poked his face through the crack in the door which was just big enough for him to slip through. He was so creepy. Especially when he was being nice. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Disaster would strike at any moment. Jaggo knew it. He just knew it. Or of course there was the possibility that he'd just gone completely insane.

But this was highly, highly, highly, highly, highly unlikely. Actually not it wasn't. But he could think it was all he'd wanted.

Wait, what was happening again?

"Jaggo dear boy…" The dry and rather unsettling voice broke straight thorough into the child's mind like a pair of claws screeching themselves down a chalkboard. Jaggo was merely surprised he even remembered his name. "I see uh… Yes… The… House is in order." His uncle hurriedly said, trying to start a conversation with the boy who was merely staring blankly at him from across the room.

"… Is your father home?" He'd finally asked with a slight shrug, his usual annoyed attitude resurfacing all the more. Our valiantly lazy hero could only wonder why the fel he was trying to talk to him.

"Three hours." Was all Jaggo said before rolling back over on his couch with a grunt. His uncle decided not to waste anymore time, and as such scurried off as fast as a grumpy old geezer could into the kitchen area. Where he could soon be screaming at the staff like he was their leader.

6:00 PM

The tables were set, the lighting was perfect, the decorations were thrown about in wondrous fashion. Everything was nearing perfection.

Jaggo was even slightly nicely dressed. I.E his usual formal attire. Alistair had recently arrived after a day packed with adventure and fun things. I.E Hitting a target and losing somehow.

Guests were beginning to pour in from the streets, lovely little lanterns lighting up the stoned pathway from the main gate to the doorway. The garden seemed absolutely beautiful, roses still blooming with a mix of blue and red. The sun setting alit the sky with a pinkish hue and glint, the moon slowly showing itself in the pure blue sky.

Everything was done. Now it was merely the task of executing it all correctly. Something that everyone expected to be done perfectly.

For better or for worse…