“Home is where the heart is” - Ancient earth proverb

  Panting, I sprinted towards the last house on my route, my small feet kicking up clouds of dust on the narrow dirt path. Each hurried step brought me closer to the familiar wooden door, its surface studded with brass knobs that glinted in the afternoon sun. Reaching it, I slowed to a stop, taking a moment to catch my breath before noticing the cheerful open sign swinging lightly in the breeze. With a jingle of the shop bell above, I stepped inside, the scent of warm pastries enveloping me like a comforting hug.

  “Maximillian, you better wipe your feet!” Mrs. Clara’s voice rang out, a delightful blend of warmth and authority. Sheepishly, I returned to the doormat, diligently rubbing the soles of my shoes before making my way to the counter.

  From the back of the shop, Mrs. Clara appeared, a kind grandmotherly figure with flour dusting her gray hair and under her fingernails. “Hi, Mrs. Clara! I have a letter for you!” I proclaimed, waving the small envelope with enthusiasm as if it were a trophy of my morning's accomplishments.

  “Why thank you, Maximillian! As a reward for your good work, why don’t you pick out a pastry for yourself?” She smiled down at me, her eyes twinkling with a mischief that made my heart race with anticipation.

  “Apple tart, please!” I blurted out, practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of the warm treat that had become a tradition between us. It was the same every time I delivered a letter to her—she knew my weakness for her baking all too well.

  With a gentle touch, she retrieved the golden pastry from the display case, wrapping it in a clean tea towel before handing it to me. “Don’t tell your parents,” she winked conspiratorially.

  With a grateful nod, I clutched the tart and scuttled outside, where the sun beamed down on me like an old friend. My mouth watered as I sank my teeth into the warm apple tart, the sweetness exploding in my mouth and the slight tang of the apples dancing on my taste buds. Three bites later, I stuffed the remnants and the tea towel into my satchel and began my walk home, the dirt path familiar beneath my feet.

  Our house was a modest detached structure built from weathered wood and scattered stones, located at the edge of our small farming town, far from the bustling center of the Galactic Republic. Dad often said that living here made us tougher and stronger than those who were “more pampered,” and as I chewed the last of my treat, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud of our humble home.

  Unlocking the front door, I called out, “Mum, I’m home!”

  “Maxi, come help me in the kitchen!” she replied. I took off my shoes and dropped my satchel by the door before bounding into the heart of our home.

  The kitchen was warm, filled with the savory aromas of dinner preparations. Mum stood at the counter peeling vegetables, her sturdy figure a comforting sight. She was heavily pregnant, taking time off from her usual job as a seamstress, and her bobbed brown hair framed her kind round face, dark brown eyes focused on her task.

  I ran to her, eager to greet her with a hug, wrapping my arms around her growing belly. “Hi, Mum!”

  “Maxi, you haven’t eaten anything before I cooked you a lovely dinner, have you?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

  “Nope!” I grinned, grabbing another peeler to join her.

  “Oh really? Then can you explain to me why you have powdered sugar all over your face?” she asked, a smile creeping across her lips like that of a cat that had caught a canary.

  I froze, the playful challenge in her eyes sending a jolt of anxiety through me. As if to punctuate the gravity of the moment, a crack rang out as her wooden spoon tapped the top of my head. “What did I tell you about lying to me, Maximillian Hutton?” she said, with steel in her voice.

  “Not to,” I mumbled, rubbing my head and staring intently at the wooden floorboards, suddenly very interested in their knots and grains.

  “That’s right! And now you have to do the washing up yourself tonight, Mr.,” she said, amusement brightening her expression.

  “But, Mum! I’m already doing the washing up tonight!” I giggled, the absurdity of it breaking the tension.

  “What? Why didn't I hear about this?” she asked, playfully tapping the spoon against her forehead.

  Our laughter filled the kitchen, turning the mundane into a shared moment of joy.

  Just then, a loud slam echoed from the front of the house, and heavy footsteps approached the kitchen doorway. In rushed Ellie, my best friend, her infectious energy spilling into our cozy kitchen. She was at doorway, a whirlwind of energy wrapped in sunlight.

  “Hi, Mrs. Hutton!” Ellie beamed, her hands perched on her hips like a soldier ready for battle. Every inch of her radiated the kind of boldness I admired. “Can Max come out to play?” Mum turned to me, a smile forming on her lips. “Well, Maxi is meant to be helping me with dinner,” she said, glancing at me with a playful glint in her eye.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I looked up at her, my eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Mum? Just for a little while?”

  After a moment's deliberation, she relented. “But I suppose if it’s in time for dinner, you can take him out.”

  “Usual time?” Ellie asked, her excitement palpable. “Of course,” Mum replied with a nod, her tone suggesting she was already imagining our antics.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Hutton! I promise to bring him back on time!” Ellie called as she spun on her heel, heading toward the door. I ran to grab my shoes before Mum could change her mind, not wanting to miss a moment of our adventure. Mum followed close behind, bending down to plant a warm, loving kiss on my cheek as I laced my boots up. “Love you, Maxi. Stay safe and have fun,” she said, her gaze softening. “I will!” I called back, my heart racing with the thrill of freedom as I burst out the door after Ellie, slamming it shut behind me.

  Outside, the evening air was tinged with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and damp earth. Ellie was already several paces ahead, a swift silhouette darting toward the fields that bordered our town. I hurried to catch up with her, the excitement bubbling in my chest.

  “Bet I can beat you to the old oak tree!” Ellie challenged, glancing over her shoulder with a grin that showcased her bright blue eyes. Without waiting for my reply, she took off, her dirty blonde hair catching the light as she sprinted away.

  “Hey! No fair!” I shouted, laughter bubbling up. But I was already running, the competition igniting a fire in my legs. We raced across the open fields, the wind whipping through my hair, laughter spilling out with each leap and bound.

  The old oak tree came into sight, its sprawling branches reaching out like welcoming arms. It was our secret place, a fortress where we could escape the everyday and dive into endless imagination. We often spent our time climbing its sturdy limbs or creating worlds of adventure with nothing but our minds and the laughter of our friendship.

  I reached the tree just a fraction of a second after Ellie, who declared victory with a triumphant cheer. “I told you I’d win!” she said, standing there with arms raised like a champion. “That's not fair you had a head start,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Next time will be different!”

  She laughed, and we both plopped down on the soft grass next to the tree roots, exhaustion and delight mixing in the warm evening glow. “What should we do now?” I asked, looking up at the darkening sky as stars began to twinkle. The first hints of twilight painted the world in shades of orange and purple.

  “Let’s pretend we’re knights of the republic!” Ellie exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “We can fight off the evil empire!” I grinned at her enthusiasm. “Okay, but I get to be sir Aymon!”

  “Fine,” she huffed playfully, “and I get to be lady Luna!” We decided to reenact the battle for Verminus where sir Aymon and lady Luna led a group of republic knights against imperial forces that out matched their own battling back the empire and securing the farming world for the republic. We let ourselves get lost in the story, the limitations of our little farm town fading away into our battle. We climbed up the tree, swinging from its branches, and in that moment, nothing else mattered but our laughter and the freedom of childhood.

  As the sky darkened, Ellie glanced at the horizon, the colors beginning to turn to soft grays, and a frown creased her brow. “We should probably head back soon, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, wishing I could stretch the evening just a little longer, but knowing Mum would be waiting for dinner.

  Reluctantly, we made our way back, our boots thudding against the dirt path, the comforting sounds of home growing closer. As I opened the door to our house, the smell of dinner wafted through, welcoming us back. Mum stood at the stove, her hands busy with pots and pans, and she turned to greet us with a broad smile.

  “Thought you two might have gotten lost!” she teased, and I felt warmth envelop me. “No way, Mrs. Hutton!” Ellie replied, grinning ear to ear. “We were fighting a grand battle!”

  “A battle, huh? I suppose you worked up an appetite then?” Mum ruffled my hair affectionately, her eyes twinkling with maternal delight. “Definitely!” I said.

  Just before we settled into our dinner, a familiar sound echoed from outside—a slow, steady thump of boots approaching our front door. My excitement bubbled over at the thought of Dad coming home. He always carried an air of strength and warmth that filled our house with joy. “Dad!” I shouted, glancing toward the hallway as the door swung open.

  “Maxi! Hello Ellie.” Dad’s voice rang warmly through the kitchen. He stepped inside, shaking off the cool evening air and hanging his leather work apron in the hallway, revealing a medium build and that familiar tousled black hair. His gray eyes sparkled with pride as he took in the sight of us. “Hi, Mr. Hutton!” Ellie chimed in, waving enthusiastically before glancing at the table. “Is it dinner time already?”

  “Of course! Perfect timing, I just finished up a new batch of belts and a few special orders,” Dad replied, gliding into the kitchen, his presence commanding yet comforting.

  Mum turned to him, her smile brightening. “You’re just in time to join us. If you were any later you would have not had any dinner at all” Dad moved into the dining room sweeping my mother into a hug and kissing her on the cheek “you know I would never be late for you darling” he said before coming over to me and tossing my hair.

  As Dad moved to take his place, my gaze drifted to the wall beside the door where a gleaming power sword hung, its hilt intricate and imposing. It had once belonged to Dad from when he served as a soldier in the Galactic Republic, a symbol of his courage and strength. I always admired that sword, often imagining the great battles he must have fought, even though he rarely spoke of them.

  “Is it okay if I take a look at your sword after dinner?” I asked, trying to hide my eagerness. “Sure, buddy, but remember, it’s not just for decoration,” Dad said, his tone a mix of seriousness and playfulness. “Respect the weapon”

  Before I could respond, Ellie shot up from her seat. “I should probably head home now. Mum will be waiting for me.” She smiled at us both, her eyes reflecting the afternoon's adventures.

  “Thanks for playing, Ellie! We’ll take on the empire again soon!” I called as she slipped on her shoes. “I can’t wait!” she grinned, glancing back at Dad. “Bye, Mr. Hutton!”

  “Goodbye, Ellie,” he replied, waving her off. “Take care on your way home.” With that, Ellie dashed out the door, leaving a trail of laughter in her wake. I turned back to the table, where the delicious aroma of dinner filled the air. As we began to eat, I listened intently to Dad recount his day at the tannery, the way he soaked his materials and crafted them with precision.

  After we finished our meal, with plates cleared and laughter lingering in the air, I was practically bouncing in my chair. “Can I see the power sword now, Dad?”

  “Sure,” he said, standing up and crossing over to the wall. Unfastening it from its place, he carefully removed the sword, its sheen catching the light. “Just remember that this sword represents more than just power; it symbolizes responsibility and honor.”

  I nodded solemnly, taking in every detail as he handed it to me. The hilt felt cool in my hands, too large for my smaller grip. “Wow, it’s heavier than I thought!” it was just over 6 ft in length and I marveled, feeling the history of the blade even as I held it wondering just how many times my dad fought with it.

  “Careful, young knight,” Dad cautioned with a grin. “You might just slay any dragons that come your way!”

  We both laughed, and for a moment, I wondered “Dad, can you tell me more about your time as a soldier?” I asked, curiosity bubbling up. “Maybe when you’re a little older, Maxi. But you know, it’s also about the battles we fight every day—even in our small farming town,” he said, his voice steady. “Every brave heart, just like yours, has the power to shape the world.”

  “Dad can you tell me another story about Sir Aymon”

  “How about the Battle of Achuhucanac, son this story is a sad story it is to remind you that not every battle is won without cost” we made our way to the living room and settled down in front of the fire dad sitting in his high back chair and me on the rug.