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Okay, only 30 more trees to go!
The weather was slightly hotter than the season would suggest, but the dense leafy canopy filtered out what little light and warmth the sun's rays carried. With the trees sandwiched together and bushes filling any remaining gaps, navigating the forest was akin to traversing a vast twilight maze. That's why most travellers stuck to the well-worn trails connecting the farming town of Lumbridge to tiny neighbouring Draynor.
Though only 11 years old, Jordan Pazel was definitely not 'most travellers'. He was dressed in his favourite Fentuary finery - a soft, lightweight shirt-and-shorts combo, with matching sandals. The embroidery down the sides and around the edges of his garments was custom-tailored based on his own design; the benefits of being a seamstress’ son. Customers would often ask Elianna Pazel why she’d waste expensive materials on such a rambunctious boy, but the response was always a handwaved “Eh, the little zoomer provides all the free advertising I could need.”
Unfortunately, her best work provided little protection from her son’s daily routine. He’d already accumulated a few new rips and scratches on his person, but if he slowed down for even one second, then he’d never beat his previous record. Besides, he knew his mom would patch him back up that night.
Past that tree, over that log, around that flower. Jordan knew the forest so well that he barely had to think about where he was going. Instead, he was envisioning the celebration he'd have when he arrived at record speed. He knew it was roughly noon when he’d dashed away from his family’s shop, but once he entered the forest, he lost all sense of time. He had no idea if he was 'winning' this race against the clock.
Come on, come on. I cleared the brambles faster than usual, so I have to be doing well.
A couple times Jordan’s zig-zagging brought him within earshot of the main path. While his intense focus made him oblivious to everything around him, his rustling and cracking caused quite the stir amongst passersby. A group of three men even drew their weapons as a precaution, scanning the treeline for the culprit. However, the suspicious sounds faded as quickly as they came, and they slowly stowed them back inside their pink robes, attributing the noise to a wild animal.
Finally, Jordan saw the gloom of the forest ahead beginning to break, and knew that he was on the final stretch. He dug in deep and sprinted as fast as he could towards the clearing up ahead. With one final leap over a root, he landed on all fours next to a pile of wood scraps and collapsed.
"25 and a half minutes. Oof, missed it by a hair."
Inhaling his weight in air, Jordan forced his head up from his heap of a body and squinted towards the friendly voice. The circular clearing he landed in was rather large, expertly carved from the surrounding brush. A sea of grass rippled blissfully around the towering oak tree. A wooden framework was snugly nestled in its branches - the beginnings of an elaborate treehouse. Silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun, a tall man stood on a scaffold affixed to the side of one of the future walls.
Jordan shouted at the figure. “Not true! I was super fast this time! You just messed up your counting Dad!”
Adriel Pazel climbed down the wooden ladder and strolled over to his son.
“Ah, are you calling your Dad a liar? You know I’m never wrong when it comes to this! I could tell you the time while blindfolded on the other side of the moon!”
“I thought it was ‘under a bed in Keldagrim’s deepest basement’,” Jordan retorted.
“Well I could do that too! That’s how skilled I am, you see,” Adriel sat down with a light laugh. As Jordan struggled to sit beside him, Adriel deftly slid a silver watch into his pocket. “I can feel the passing of the sun in my bones. It’s why everyone says I’m so ‘bright’.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Ugh, come on Dad, that’s bad even for you.”
“Well, as an apology for enduring that ‘light-hearted’ pun, why don’t we round your time down and call it a win. We’ll pick up your treat when we head back.”
“Hmpf, you would’ve done that anyway,” Jordan snorted. “B-but thanks Dad!” he said quickly before Adriel could take back his offer.
“I thought so. Now, enough talk, why don’t you help me put in the new floor?”
***
It was half-past five when the pair finally called it a day. Despite Jordan’s protests, they decided to take the main path back to town. After securing his tools safely in his backpack, Adriel offered his walking stick to his son, who gladly accepted. Taking Jordan’s other hand, Adriel led his son through a gap in the bushes towards the trail.
“So, see anything interesting today?” Adriel asked.
“Well, there was this giant bird sitting on the fishing shop sign, but Hank opened the door and scared it off before I could get closer.”
“You’ll see it again, I’m sure.
Jordan swung the walking stick around a bit.
“I’m so booooooooored. There’s nothing interesting around here anymore. Can I come patrol with you when you go back? When are Gage and Marlowe coming to visit?”
“Whenever they can, you know how busy they are. Why don’t you invite Dale or Ashton on one of your adventures? You never know, they might have a free day coming up.”
Jordan snorted. “Ugh, you know Dale spends all his time making maps for his parents to sell. He’ll just slow me down. And I haven’t seen Ashton in months, maybe she fell in the mill and we ate her with last night’s soup.”
Adriel made a face, but chose not to comment on the last bit.
“Well, there are more kids around here than that. Julian’s always hanging around the market, and Millie comes by the shop every once in a while. And Harlan’s class is always-”
“You think any of those guys want to spend time with me? All they care about are their stupid farms and sales and blah blah blah. They’re not interested in having fun, all they do is work.”
“Hey now, that’s not fair. You need to remember, they have their own lives and struggles to deal with. Not everyone has as much free time as you do. If you just tried to talk to them…”
“Nah I’ll just keep exploring and find some better friends. If you let me go to Draynor-”
“- then you’d never come home, and we’d be worried sick,” Adriel interrupted. “If you knew half of the reports coming from that area, you’d never leave the house. Though your mother would like that, I bet. But alright, enough dad meddling from me. Just promise me you won’t stray far from the forest. I know we can’t convince you to stay in town, but there are limits. If one of those goblins…
“Okay, okay, I promise. Sheesh, I’m not stupid.”
Jordan gave his father a quick hug, which took the edge off of his comment.
They chatted a bit more as the sun started dropping below the treeline, creating long, stretching shadows as they walked. Once they exited the forest, the ramshackle of stone buildings that formed Lumbridge’s commercial district came into view. As they approached the checkpoint, Adriel waved to the two guards on duty.
“Evening gentlemen. Almost time to head home, I hope?”
“Hey Pazel. You’re the most interesting face we’ve seen all day, and that’s saying something,” one guard complained.
“Not true, that lady from Draynor came through earlier, remember?” corrected the other guard.
“Oh, did Aggie visit the shop, Peale? I thought she was scheduled to come by next week,” asked Adriel.
“Nah, that mallard from the Manor Restoration group or whatever, she brought her latest petition for the Duke to sign, but not before informing us of every single happening since the last time she swung by.”
“I can plan my next vacation around Martin’s bowel movements now,” the first guard quipped. “Speaking of, how’s the cabin coming along? The duke might need a getaway before the next round of petitioners come to collect.”
“Well, it’s a treehouse now, Dante. No walls yet, but the floor’s put in, thanks to Jordan’s help.
“Hey, good one, kiddo.” Dante gave Jordan a thumbs-up and a wink. “Don’t let your dad get too used to the forest life, though, or he’ll finally listen to us and run George’s construction monopoly to the ground.
“No, he should quit his job and become my bodyguard instead!” exclaimed Jordan. “Together we’ll travel to the Wilderness and make our own kingdom!”
“Anyway,” Adriel said pointedly, as Dante and Peale doubled-over with laughter, “I need to check in with Brad- I mean, Captain DeShawn before he leaves the castle, so I’ll see you fellas later.
Leaving the guards to their guffawing, Adriel and Jordan continued their journey towards home. They waved at Hank as he was shuffling his barrels around in front of his fishing shop, and Adriel exchanged a few words with Old Jack who sat on his porch smoking a pipe.
Once they were within sight of the Pazels’ shop, Adriel told his son to head on in, promising that he’d pick up their treat from the market on his way back from the castle. With a quick nod, Jordan sprinted towards the external stairs.
Patterns and Such by Nimble Fingers was the official name of the Lumbridge clothier’s shop, but it always got shortened to Patterns by most residents, and the name just stuck. Large, double-wide windows were spread every few feet along the walls, and each was filled with colourful mannequins displaying Elianna’s proudest works. A collection of dyeing machinery was clustered around the back, but, due to complaints about the horrible smells, they mostly fell into disuse. The upper levels of the building were where the Pazel family lived.
Jordan was about to dash up the stairs, but skidded to a halt just before the first step. Tip-toeing, he made his way up as quietly as possible, crouching low enough to avoid crossing in front of the upstairs window. He made it to the top, and slowly reached for the front door’s handle. His senses were on high alert, and he held his breath in fear of giving himself away.
With a low creak, Jordan pried the door open and cautiously entered his kitchen. Giving the room a quick scan, he confirmed he was alone and exhaled in relief. Turning around, he carefully closed the door with a click.
Then he ducked.
Barely a hair’s breadth over his head, a pair of arms swiped through the air, nearly capturing him in one fell swoop. Jordan dashed backwards to get some distance, before dodging swiftly to the left. Now the kitchen table served as a barrier between him and his assailant. They sprinted towards his right, and he mirrored them before recognizing the feint and reversing course. To his surprise, they vaulted over the table in an attempt to tackle him to the ground, and his momentum just barely managed to carry him forwards enough to avoid them.
He made a beeline for the door to his bedroom, hoping to escape out the window, but when he tried to wrench the door open, it wouldn’t budge; his opponent had already thought to close this particular escape route. He twirled in place, hoping to come up with another plan, but he was too slow. Or, rather, his opponent was too fast.
Feeling the vice grip of an experienced captor envelop him, he closed his eyes in defeat, resigning himself to his fate. He was lifted high into the air, parallel to the floor, and flipped into a cradling position. Head facing upwards, he opened his eyes and stared into his mother’s triumphant face.
“Well, well, well.” Elianne Pazel punctuated every word with a wagging finger. “It seems like the little zoomer is fast enough to escape his responsibilities, but not enough to escape the consequences. Now, what was it you told me last night?”
Jordan avoided her gaze, discovering a newfound interest in the grandfather clock in the corner.
“Oh, that’s right, I believe your exact words were ‘Of course Mom, I’ll help you tend to the shop today, I know you needed the extra pair of hands to finish these last-minute orders on time. I love you so much and would never break a promise I made barely twelve hours in the past.’”
Again, Jordan offered no response.
“‘And on the off chance I do happen to slip away into the forest and render my every word as worthless as a double-ended chicken, I promise I’ll make it up to you, dearest mother, by polishing every brick from here to Al Kharid until it shines brighter than Tumeken’s glistening backside’.”
Jordan snapped his gaze back towards his mother. “Hey, I never said any of that!”
“Ohoho, so you were listening. I guess we can’t claim ignorance to the Seers’ Village judge. I hear they give five to ten years to little boys who disobey their mothers. How’s that sound, Jailbird?”
Jordan struggled to break his mother’s grip. “Gerroff me”, he mumbled.
“Now, I could go on about how you’ve managed to rip your new clothes, clothes I painstakingly cut, and sewed, and dyed according to your incredibly specific demands, and how I had toiled endlessly to make you some spiced potato curry as thanks for your diligent and honest work in the shop, but I don’t have enough years left on this world to review your every crime. Instead , precious Jailbird, I’ll make you a deal. If you can fold your wings for a mere hour or two and help me put the finishing touches on some of the orders, and help your dad prepare the rest of tonight’s meal when he returns from the market, and finish the rest of your schoolwork, and grant me a heartfelt apology fit for the King of Varrock himself, then I’ll consider commuting your sentence. Does that sound fair?”
Jordan tilted his head slightly. “...you made curry?”
“Maybe. Now, your answer?”
“I’m sorry Mom,” Jordan said sincerely, and he meant every word. He knew she wasn’t mad at him; given that she knew her husband was picking things up from the market, she must’ve been in on their bet all along. She must’ve known Jordan just wanted to spend time with his dad before he returned to guard duty, and he appreciated her generosity.
“Okay, now give me a hug.”
Jordan hugged his mother.
“And now a kiss.”
Jordan obliged.
“And your first 1,000 gold pieces.”
“Hey!”