Peek: Family (Patreon)

"Remember to keep your knives sharp, Pul. The meat should want to come apart, and a sharp knife helps it." Pul's father explains as he methodically takes apart a pig carcass, Pul watching in rapt attention. Working in the butcher shop is so much different than out in the field. Out there, there's noise, the aftermath of a fight, and entrails of the beast he's butchering.

In here, though, it's just a carcass, and his father going through the steps to efficiently turn it into ingredients for food. "Hand me the heavy cleaver. The customer wants shortribs." Pul complies, grabbing the indicated tool off the rack, before reconsidering and putting it back, and pulling out his custom cleaver.

"How about this one, dad?"

He accepts the cleaver with a raised eyebrow, and examines it. "Lighter than the heavy cleaver... but this thing's enchanted inside and out, isn't it?"

Pul nods as his father chuckles and shakes his head.

"I still can't believe you're out adventuring, and getting fancy knives. Have you tried this one out in the field, then?"

Pul nods. "In battle and in butchering after. It seems to work pretty well."

His father gives it a few test swings, and slams it into the sturdy table a few times before nodding. "Not as heavy as I like for bones, but it's sharp as a whisper." Nodding to himself, Pul watches him expertly cleave through the ribs of the pig with ease. He whistles, impressed, as he wipes the knife and offers it back to Pul. "Where'd you get that, anyway? The forge pattern's weird, and it feels like a masterwork even before the enchants."

"My friend knows a good smith. We got the ore for it from in the labyrinth. Damanascus, it's called."

"Well, let me know if you get more, hmm? I'd love to get a set of butcher knives made out of it."

Pul smiles as his mom peeks in. "You boys done? The last customer wants his order, and dinner's almost ready."

"Just let me wrap these ribs up and it'll be ready."

Pul rolls his eyes as the two share a quick kiss, but it's difficult to even pretend to be grossed out by their affection. His parents have always been important to him, and after learning Freddie and Rhonda don't have parents, and how terrible Rezlar's is, he can deal with them being all lovey-dovey. Sometimes. If he has to.

"I'm gonna get cleaned up!"

"Clean that cleaver, too! A good butcher makes sure his tools are clean before and after each use!"

"Yes dad," Pul says, heading to the cleaning barrel to properly care for the tool and weapon. His parents go deal with the customer, so he goes ahead and cleans up the table and the other knives, also, before heading up to dinner. He smiles at the hearty stew and bread, eagerly digging in as his parents chat. Before long, the conversation turns to him.

"So, Pul. When are we going to meet these friends of yous?" asks his mom, and he freezes, a bite of stew halfway to his lips.

"I'd like to meet them, too," adds his dad. "If you guys really went into the labrynth, you're all pretty strong. I hear that's rather deep in the dungeon."

"Um... yeah, it is, I guess." He fidgets as his parents continue to look at him, expecting more. "They're... they're good people. I just didn't know if you'd want to meet them. They uh... they know about me."

His parents raise an eyebrow each. "They do? What do they think of that?"

"They don't care." He snorts and shakes his head. "The dungeon knows, too. He thinks it's cool."

"It does?" asks his mom, confused.

"Yeah, he's... he's weird. But he's also good."

"Sounds like you've been making all kinds of friends then, son," says his dad with a smile. "I wouldn't mind meeting them. Your mom and I want to keep ourselves secret for the most part, but if you trust your friends, we'll trust them, too."

Pul smiles across the table at them. "Maybe you can all meet after the raid? We're all kinda busy, but I think things will settle down a bit after."

His mom smiles. "That sounds wonderful. Let me know, and I'll make sure to make a larger dinner to feed them all. Except the dungeon. I don't know what one would even eat."

Pul laughs and nods. "I think they'd like that. And Thedeim might even send Teemo, if you invite him. He's a talking rat."

"So long as he minds his manners, I don't mind."

"So, tell us about them!" says his dad, eager to hear about the people who've become so important to his son.

And Pul is all to happy to talk about them.