It was a struggle.
A struggle, Theo Belgrave found, was even worse than the period when he practiced as if his life depended on it just to pass the mercenary licensure exam.
At least back then, his failures had been expected.
This time, it was personal.
By the time he managed to coax a single proper dosage into existence, several events had already unfolded around him.
Kyle, for one, had somehow drafted a child-friendly version of a contract. It came complete with simplified clauses, large readable fonts, and a solemn instruction that required the children to swear upon their tiny pinkies with him.
They did so with grave seriousness.
So serious, in fact, that they walked away with their pinkies still raised, expressions determined and proud.
After all, this was the first contract they had ever entered on their own.
