Kendrick McKenney
This is my last chance; if I don't do this, I'm certain I'll be disowned. I run through the corridors, taking care of any traces I leave as best I can.
{You're not even meant to leave traces.}
"My life's already hard, so leave me the fuck alone!" I say it in a harsh whisper.
{You really should learn to shut up.}
"I swear, if I get my hands on you, I'm going to..."
{Your bout to run past the objective}
I stopped right before the door. I scrape the floor in the process.
"shit"
{you fucked up now}
"I just have to rush it."
I quickly put sleeping powder in my hand and use a magic item that looks similar to a fan to spread it underneath the door.
After about a minute or two, I enter the room and draw a dagger. Looking at my sleeping master, I draw a dagger and stab the bed with full force.
I feel the impact, and I smile because I have finally passed. After all my failures, I have finally
{Too late}
Before I can ask, I feel a pain on my side, and I'm sent soaring into a wall head first. My eyesight shakes and blurs upon impact. I flop to the floor to see blood dripping down the wall.
A couple of ribs were broken and my head is bleeding severely, but I can't stop now. This is my only chance to finally win something and gain some respect from my father.
I throw a dagger and use [blinding light] and follow that up with a kick to his neck.
He calmly catches both the dagger and my leg in each hand, and immediately I brace my body for what's to come next.
He throws me by my legs through the glass window of the three-story mansion we were in and barely manages to roll on impact to land safely.
I stood up, showing no signs of pain, and headed for my room to change quickly for the meeting with my father. I could seek treatment afterward, and meetings with him could not be delayed for any reason.
I can thank my instructor for everything I know; although he is very rough with his methods, he is probably the only one who truly cares about me.
I rush to my room, wash the blood away, take some pain reduction pills, and wear the clothes set for it. I rush, ensuring not to make noise or leave any stain from my limping or my bleeding. My father hates disorder.
I take a deep breath. The pressure seeping through the door makes it clear of my fate. I'm not getting disowned; the most likely course of action to not spoil the image of the family is my death.
In the kingdom of elves (tuvac), where image and lineage are prioritized, errors can't be made, or they will reflect poorly on the manor.
And I have been given enough chances; with a heavy heart, I open the doors.
Well, I have some level of happiness at least, knowing my instructor is the only person who truly cares for me in this house. Give it a few more years, and I may have called him father.