Breakfast

         All I wanted was breakfast. The night before had been composed of nothing but magical training: meditation, targeting, mental defence, and things like that. When I got out of bed that morning, the only thing I could think about was breakfast. It is, of course, the most important meal of the day. As such, you would understand my frustration when my wife Anna said, "We're out of firewood."
         And so, I began the long trudge through the woods in the still-dark morning to find wood suitable for burning. I could've chopped down a tree if there were any small enough; the wood we resided in at the time was filled completely with enormous, towering trees. I was forced to scavenge. I walked along and saw a man stranded on the dirt road, trying to fix his wagon. The rear axle had practically shattered. I spent about an hour helping him repair it. He introduced himself as Dr. Sidric and talked with me for a moment, then he went on his way.
         I arrived to a crowd of men outside my home. They looked quite dangerous with their swords and knives pointed at me. I assumed they were all in a gang of some kind when I saw their matching tattoos. One of them stepped forward and began speaking to me.
         "Mr. Mann? Our boss says we can't leave until--" My slamming door cut him off. I dropped the bundle of wood under my arm, and my wife immediately spoke up.
         "Some men are outside looking for you. I would've gotten rid of them myself, but I'm not really feeling good." She did look a bit pale.
         "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of them. You're still making breakfast, right?"
         "Yeah. It's not that bad, I'm just feeling a little woozy."
         "Good." Had I known she were pregnant, I would have told her to go to bed. Of course, neither of us knew; technology at that time and place was quite primitive. I ignored her illness. I thought it was just the "common sickness."
         I gathered my sword and stepped outside. One of the gang's members stepped forward. I think he was the same one who addressed me earlier.
         "You owe our boss money, Mr. Mann. You are Robert Mann, aren't you?"
         "That's Admiral Mann to you." I tried to show him my frustration with his visit. Unwanted guests will usually leave an unwelcome home. That is, if you show them they are unwelcome.
         "Very good, Admiral Mann. We were told we could find you here, but we were told you would be wearing flashy red clothing. You don't fit your description exactly."
         "Yes, I wasn't expecting visitors," I said, looking down at my clothes. I usually take pride in my appearance, wearing the finest red silk and never leaving home without my cape and my feathered hat. My hair is hard to keep in check, but I at least brush it before putting on my hat. Today, I was wearing dirty, brown pants and my hair was thrown about, roughly resembling an Afro. I wasn't even wearing a shirt.
         "Well, sorry to interrupt your morning. I am Andrew Mason and I have been sent by Herman Omar. He sent us to collect some money you owe him." At least he was polite. A gentleman among thugs. He said, "We'll leave as soon as you give us the 4,500 crowns you owe Mr. Omar."
         "Owe him for what, may I ask?"
         "For damage to his establishment. He says you destroyed his saloon."
         "That wasn't my fault. You want Leonard Stevenson. He started it."
         "Nevertheless, Mr. Omar sent us to you. We can't leave until we've been paid." He and his posse clearly wouldn't leave without force.
         "Okay then. I'll be right back." I stepped inside to arm myself. Who did Omar think I was? He sent about ten men to steal from me, as if it would work. I gathered a few spears from my private armoury and stepped outside. I asked, "Mr. Mason, do you have any children?"
         "No," he replied, "none to my knowledge."
         "Any family at all?"
         He looked solemn for a moment. "No. My mother died recently and she was all I had. I guess my job is my life now."
         "Do you plan on starting a family? Will you ever have anyone to live for?"
         "No. All I have is my gang. I've sworn my life to them and they're all I'll ever care about. Now enough questions, time to give us the--" A spear became embedded in his head, spraying a bit of blood into the air. He made a satisfying thud as he hit the ground. His associates were horrified.
         "Collect that, bitch." I added, "Anyone else who thinks they're gonna 'collect' my damn money may step forward now," as I readied another spear. The group left without a problem. When I returned inside, Anna was leaning over, looking ready to vomit.
         "Honey, something's wrong," she said. Then she threw up. At this point I became truly worried. Common sickness usually didn't induce nausea. I am skilled with white magic, the magic of healing. With white magic, you can heal cuts and bruises, mend broken bones, purify blood to remove poison or disease, and even bring the recently dead back to life. I could do all these things, but I'm no doctor. The ability to cure something doesn't mean you can diagnose it. I needed an actual expert. Then I remembered Dr. Sidric. The path he was on led to a small town and he must have stopped there. I realized we would have been able to catch him if we had left then. So we did.
         I never did get my breakfast. It was lunchtime when we caught the doctor. Although breakfast is the most important meal of the day and I usually have a terrible day when I miss it, that day was still one of the best of my life. I learned that I would be a father. However, even with the great news I received that day, I still get mad when I don't get breakfast.