The life of Peregrine Sterling began not with a silver spoon, but with a banana peel, half a carton of expired milk, and a group of startled shopkeepers rummaging through a rubbish skip behind the High Street. His mother, an unknown variable, left him bundled in a paisley shawl. His rescuers were the ‘Five Fathers of Commerce’—Mr. Bertram (The Butcher), Mr. Chen (The Baker), Mr. Delmar (The Candlestick Maker), Mr. Elias (The Tailor), and Mr. Flynn (The Bookseller). Each man yearned for a child, but their collective wives, seeing the unceremonious origin of the baby, wanted nothing to do with him. So, the men, united by a silent, childless pact, adopted Peregrine, taking turns caring for him while conducting business.
Peregrine’s infancy was a comedic masterclass in chaotic logistics. He was simultaneously fed raw hamburger scraps by Bertram, dusted with flour by Chen, warmed by Delmar's wax-melting pot, dressed in mis-sized tweed by Elias, and read philosophy by Flynn. By the age of five, Peregrine’s internal clock was a schedule of retail hours: 9 a.m. at the Butcher’s, where he learned the difference between flank and skirt steak; 11 a.m. at the Bakery, where he mastered the concept of yeast inflation; and 3 p.m. at the Tailor's, where he learned to haggle the price of a hem with deadly precision. His language was a strange hybrid of commerce; instead of saying "I’m hungry," he'd declare, "My inventory levels are critically low."
Realizing his fathers' education was purely vocational—Chen couldn't balance his own ledger, and Elias used a shoe box for cash flow—Peregrine developed a fierce drive for formal learning. He spent his after-hours in the public library, devouring everything from classic literature (courtesy of Flynn) to military history (a subject none of his fathers understood). His dedication was absolute. He eventually excelled, enrolling in the state university on a full scholarship. It was there that the former refuse-heap-foundling, who always smelled faintly of cinnamon and leather, found his calling: the military.
Peregrine joined the Marine Corps, graduating as a decorated officer. The structured, unforgiving discipline of the Corps was the perfect antidote to his sprawling, chaotic upbringing. He found the barracks far less confusing than an inventory count at the Candlestick Maker’s shop during Christmas rush. His command presence was impeccable, but occasionally, under pressure, he would slip: “Sergeant, I need that perimeter secured, and I need an eight-percent margin on your speed!”
After two tours, Major Peregrine Sterling returned home. The five fathers were older, tired, and still running their shops exactly as they had two decades prior. Peregrine, armed with a Lieutenant's pension and a formidable understanding of logistics, decided it was time to close the ledger on their working lives. He didn't just give them money; he integrated them. He launched "The Five Fathers Collective," an online artisanal food and craft supply store, using Bertram's butchery as the central fulfillment warehouse and Chen's baking supplies as the initial product line. Elias’s impeccable standards were applied to shipping, Flynn’s reading room became the corporate office, and Delmar's unique waxes were repackaged as premium gift items. Within two years, the Collective was a booming success. Peregrine’s final act was to hand each of his fathers a retirement plan, which they signed with trembling hands. "The inventory is managed," he told them. "You're all off the clock." The five men retired to spend their days playing dominoes, occasionally arguing over the fluctuating price of beef futures, but never having to work again.