The World Greatest Magician Is A Fraud

The next morning, Luke woke up early, the memories of the previous day's routine at the cathedral still fresh in his mind. After Eamon's departure, Gareth had stayed for a while, delighting the children with stories and games. Eventually, Gareth too had returned to his duties, and the cathedral's usual routine resumed. That night, Luke practised his magic tricks again, but he didn't stay up as late as before. The boys had gone to bed early, allowing Luke to get a good night's rest.

Today, Luke woke up feeling refreshed and ready. He quickly got himself ready in the lavatory, his mind on the promise he had made to Eamon. As he prepared, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine smile that even surprised him. Sister Maria, who was already up and preparing breakfast for the children, noticed his cheerful demeanour.

"Well, look at that beautiful smile," she teased, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Who would have thought you could smile like that?"

Luke's heart swelled with a mixture of happiness and surprise. A smile that even his terrible parents had failed to witness now graced his face naturally. Feeling a sense of purpose and belonging, Luke finished his preparations and made his way out of the cathedral.

As he stepped into the morning light, Luke felt a renewed sense of determination. He had a promise to keep and a task to fulfil. The path to the barracks was familiar now, and he walked with a spring in his step, eager to assist Eamon and prove his worth. The early morning air was crisp and filled with the sounds of the waking city, and Luke couldn't help but feel optimistic about the day ahead.

Reaching the barracks, Luke greeted the guards at the entrance and made his way to the training grounds where he knew Eamon would be waiting. The old man was already there, sorting through the equipment with practised ease. Seeing Luke approach, Eamon looked up and gave a nod of approval.

"Good to see you, lad," Eamon said, his voice gruff but kind. "Ready to get to work?"

"Absolutely," Luke replied, a determined glint in his eye.

Together, they set to work, the familiarity of the routine brings a sense of comfort to Luke. As they cleaned and polished the swords and armour, the sun continued to rise, casting a warm glow over the training grounds. Today was just another step in Luke's journey, but it was one he embraced wholeheartedly, feeling for the first time in a long while that he was exactly where he needed to be.

Eamon and Luke fell into their established routine, working seamlessly together. Eamon took on the task of cleaning the equipment, meticulously scrubbing away dirt and grime from the armour and weapons. Meanwhile, Luke handled the polishing, bringing a shine to the metal that made it look nearly new. They worked efficiently, with Eamon passing each cleaned piece to Luke, who would then polish it to a gleaming finish.

Around them, the sounds of the knights' morning training filled the air. Grunts, huffs, and the clang of metal echoed throughout the training grounds. Occasionally, Luke caught glimpses of Gareth and Sir Carrick among the knights, their presence a constant reminder of the disciplined life these men led.

As Luke focused on his polishing duties, he couldn't help but notice the sheer number of real swords and armour they were handling. The pile of cleaned and polished equipment seemed endless. Luke's curiosity grew with each piece he polished. He wondered just how many weapons and suits of armour the Knights of Purewood possessed. From what he had seen, the knights training around him numbered around a hundred, which seemed small for a city, even one as modest in size as Purewood.

Luke also cleaned and polished several wooden swords and other training equipment, but the abundance of real weapons puzzled him. Should he ask Eamon about it? His curiosity was piqued, but he decided against it. Luke knew it wasn't his place to pry into matters that hadn't been shared with him. Instead, he directed his attention back to his work, determined to do his part and fulfil his duties to the best of his ability.

The morning passed in a blur of activity. Luke and Eamon moved through the equipment with practised ease, their rhythm undisturbed by the bustling activity around them. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Luke felt a sense of satisfaction with their progress. Each piece of armour and every sword they cleaned and polished brought them closer to completing the day's work.

Despite his growing curiosity, Luke maintained his focus on the task at hand. He found solace in the repetitive motions, the way the metal gleamed under his careful polishing. It was a simple task, but it gave him a sense of accomplishment and purpose. As long as he had work to do, he felt like he belonged, and for now, that was enough.

With only one or two pieces of equipment left to clean, Eamon looked at Luke and said, "You've done well today, lad. Why don't you retire for the day? I can handle the rest."

Luke nodded, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction. "Thank you, Eamon. I'll see you tomorrow."

He made his way to Sir Carrick, who was overseeing the knights' training. After a brief exchange, Sir Carrick handed him his pay for the day—two silver shillings. Luke tucked them into his pouch and headed back to the cathedral, which he had come to consider his home in a figure of speech.

Upon his return, he was greeted warmly by Sister Maria and Father Wingate. They invited him to join them for lunch, and Luke accepted gratefully. The meal was simple but hearty, filled with the comforting routine of the cathedral. The girls, whom Luke had seen only in passing, were also there. Though he had yet to familiarize himself with them, he felt a growing sense of belonging in the community.

Luke was well-acquainted with the boys now. From the oldest to the youngest, he knew their names and voices. Thomas, as the fourteen-year-old, was the oldest. Peter, at thirteen, was the second and often the ringleader due to his natural demeanour despite having one older. Samuel, twelve, was quick-witted and mischievous. Henry, eleven, had a quiet strength about him. Andrew came up next as the ten years old. Benjamin, who insisted on being called Ben, was nine and full of energy. Daniel, the youngest at eight, looked up to his older brothers with wide-eyed admiration. They were a lively bunch, mischievous yet obedient and kind-hearted.

The day passed in a blur of routine—chores, meals, and moments of quiet reflection. As night fell, Luke and the boys settled into their beds. The room was filled with the sounds of soft breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets.

Lying in bed, Luke felt a deep sense of contentment. The cathedral, with its routine and the warmth of its inhabitants, had become a sanctuary for him. Tomorrow, he would wake up early again, ready to help Eamon and continue his journey of self-discovery and growth. For now, he closed his eyes, letting it rest for a while.

As the room quieted with the soft breathing of sleeping boys, Luke lay still, pretending to be asleep. He waited, listening for any signs of wakefulness from the others. Once he was certain they were all deep in slumber, he slowly opened his eyes. The dim light from the street lamps outside barely penetrated the room, casting long shadows on the walls. Satisfied that everyone was asleep, Luke tiptoed to his secret stash, carefully pulling out his briefcase.

He opened it, revealing his collection of magic trick items: the deck of cards, the coin, the stick that turned into a flower. He also retrieved his smartphone, which he had been using to learn new tricks. Sitting in the corner of the room, he began practising. The familiar feel of the cards in his hands was comforting, and he relished the opportunity to hone his skills in peace. He performed simple tricks at first, letting the muscle memory return, and then moved on to more complex routines. The practice was essential, and he didn't want his abilities to wane.

However, just as he was comfortably practising sleight of hand with the coin, a soft voice broke the silence.

"Big Brother Luke, what are you doing?"

Startled, Luke looked up to see Daniel rubbing his eyes and peeping over his bed. The youngest boy was curious and not fully awake, but his eyes were fixed on the briefcase and the items spread out in front of Luke.

Luke froze, unsure of how to respond. He had kept his magic a secret from everyone at the cathedral, fearing it would draw too much attention or lead to uncomfortable questions about his past. But now, Daniel had caught him in the act. Luke quickly thought of a way to explain without revealing too much.

"Um, hey Daniel," Luke whispered, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm just reading onto something. Nothing much."

"Reading?" Daniel responded, looking wide awake now. "Can I see what you reading?"

And now, Luke realised that he messed it up. Why had he said reading? The kids love stories and books. He should have thought of something else. And what's worse now, even the other boys began to wake up.

What is this? Do they have some sort of telepathic connection or something? That when one of them is doing something interesting, it immediately calls for the others to gather up. As Luke's hands panicking jumbled all his items trying to hide behind him, he is now forced to act quickly. The fate of himself lied in his ability to escape his way out of this.