For my fourteenth birthday, Father knew just what I wanted. He planned a marvelous combination of a hunting trip, and subsequent festivities to be held within the halls of Highveld, our estate in the southern country of Sahajia. Our travel to the homeworld was limited these days, as the Kaezer's forces attacked randomly around the globe, but we still owned several residences on Earth. Most were far inland, thus less likely to be caught in an assault.

Highveld was one of our most ostentatious properties, and was Mother's preferred home. She'd dwelled apart from us since Castor was born, insisting that Silvring Hall, our lunar abode, was disagreeable to her refined tastes and social requirements. I knew the truth by now--that she wished to be away from Father.

My family wasn't of the old aristocratic bloodlines, but was an industrial success. Over a century ago, my great-grandfather invested all he owned into the burgeoning off-world mining field, at the dawn of its establishment. Consequently, we were one of the wealthiest companies in the known worlds, and we lived as any of the noble lineages might. Everything was glorious and spared no excess.

From an aerial view, one could appreciate the expansive array. The great house, guest dwellings, and outbuildings commanded an entire hilltop, with over a hundred acres of rolling green parks, gardens, and elaborate terraces strewn down the slope. Three tiled swimming pools glimmered a lavish blue, while the cheerful white spray of fountains arced along the driveway. The house itself was a palatial five-story structure, faced in repeating patterns of black and white stone. Its three grand wings converged into a central rise. Tall chimneys and ornamental towers protruded toward the sky, offsetting the gently curled columns and arches at the base.

I cared little about seeing my overbearing mother, but I was eager to hunt in Sahajia. For as long as I could remember, I'd wanted to visit the vast local preserve of Thohadoun, as it was stocked with a fascinating array of engineered game animals. Father finally deemed me old enough, and it was sure to be a fantastic celebration.

Ten-year old Castor was already at Highveld, having left a few weeks earlier to visit Mother during his lesson break. They shared affection and regular correspondence, which I didn't understand in the slightest. Then again, everyone loved Castor, so perhaps it was inevitable.

Grandfather, Father and I landed in the afternoon, and debarked from the shuttle, with the valets and robots carrying our extensive collection of trunks. It was impossible to pack lightly for such a momentous occasion.

Duke walked at my side, regal as always.

"Grandpa, Father, Silas!" Castor's voice was shrill and enthusiastic as he ran across the airfield.

Father and Grandfather embraced him with radiant smiles.

"Hello, son," Father said, playfully tugging Castor's cap down over his bright blue eyes.

Castor laughed and pushed it back. "I'm glad you're here at last," he said. "I missed all of you so much."

Even Duke smothered Castor's face with joyful licks.

I endured my brother's hug, placing an arm around his shoulders. Keeping him in check was vital, as he was my competitor in all things, though he didn't seem to realize this fact. I played along with his childish antics. In truth, I wanted to slap some restraint into him. He possessed a few useful qualities, despite his vexing behavior.

We approached the estate slowly, keeping a dutiful pace with Grandfather and his cane. The iron gate bore the logo of Blane Industries, a line swept into a chromed sphere, with another arrowing sharply into it like an abstract mining drill. Around this, metal bars beamed upward in a flared sun motif, a repetitive design of parallel lines ending in elegant spirals along the edge. It opened before us, and we passed beneath the shady overhang of the savannah garden, a cluster of gum acacia and bushwillow trees forming a welcome canopy.

The human servants and robotic staff met us in a polished row at the entrance.

"Greetings, sirs," said Mr. Vernon, the lanky butler. "Welcome home. How may I be of service?"

"Good afternoon, Vernon. I'd like a brandy and a smoke ready in my study promptly," Grandfather said, handing his coat to a footman.

"Of course, sir."

Father lifted his chin. "Might I inquire as to where Mrs. Blane is at this moment?"

"She is beside the pool on the western pavilion, sir," Mr. Vernon replied.

Father sighed. "Please notify her that we've arrived, as she's obviously too preoccupied to receive us."

"Right away, sir." Mr. Vernon nodded, his expression serene. He waved to a nearby robot, which beeped acknowledgment and left to fulfill the request.

Father and Grandfather retired to discuss private business soon after.

A servant escorted me through several stately halls and salons, with Castor skipping alongside.

"I asked Mama to put you in the room next to mine," he said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, the annoyance hidden behind my opaque lenses.

"And, guess what? She says I can go hunting with you tomorrow, too."

"What? I don't think you're old enough. Father denied me until this year."

"Mama will make him allow it. You'll see."

We arrived at my room, and the robots set my luggage inside.

"Come swim with me," Castor said, tugging at my arm.

"I need to rest first."

He pouted. "All right."

Once my belongings were stowed, I closed the door, hinting to be left alone. The long flight from Luna and the humid weather made me sleepy. I took off my shoes and coat and napped on the bed with Duke for a good while.

When I woke, the large windows were flung open, a twilight breeze gently shifting the striped and tasseled curtains. The valet had entered while I slept, as my dinner apparel was already pressed, and hung in pristine expectation from a hook alongside the immense mahogany armoire. Yawning, I checked the time on my wristcom. There was less than an hour to dress and prepare. I stretched and walked to the door.

There was always a domestic robot on duty in the corridors, pacing in rounds, or standing at attention until needed. I hailed the nearest one and ordered it to tend to Duke. It led him outside for nourishment and exercise, while I rang for the valet.

With some haste, I donned the black jacket, trousers, tie, and rusted waistcoat set aside for me. Dinner was never to be missed, and to be late would earn me a scolding. The valet assisted me to arrange my dark brown undercut into sleek decency. I inspected myself in the full-length mirror set beside the lavatory door. Since it was now nightfall, and the house lights were dimmed for ambiance, I decided it was safe and appropriate to remove my glasses. Once satisfied, I descended the lushly carpeted staircase.

"Good evening, sir," the footmen said, bowing their heads as I entered.

Mother had done her best to please tonight. The dining room was a stretched rectangular chamber, set in vivid alternating tones of blue, black, and white, with contemporary serrated designs on the paneling and costly woven rug. Feathery young palm fronds in distinctively ridged vases waved toward the mirrored ceiling. They brushed the sides of an expressive bronze statue, depicting a barbarian girl in an ecstatic dancing pose. Carved beads and stones dripped from her widespread arms, while soft, sensual music whirled about the live flutist and violinist playing in the corner.

Set upon the table was an elaborate display of candelabras and fresh blossoms, warm firelight gleaming orange against dainty crystal and silverware. Father, Grandfather, and Castor were already seated, in their genteel attire. Even Castor knew how to present himself properly.

Mother and I entered at the same time. She minced through the opposite door, the heels of her ribboned sandals ringing a taut complement. Glossy hair scalloped around her exquisite features in near-black marcelled waves, her eyes and lips painted in hues of wine, blue, and bronze. Her golden fillet encompassed the proud lift of her head, anchoring a diamond-linked net of citrine and sapphire across the back of her coif. A fierce banded collar supported the draping flow of her gown, enveloping her slender bare shoulders. Fabric billowed about her petite curves like the sails of an exotic corsair ship, rows of dye fading from rust to indigo. Securing the garb was an engraved copper belt, a small gap at the front bearing the heads of two gemmed, snarling beasts.

She adjusted the thin, latticed swathes of pearls, topaz, and lapis lazuli decorating her arms, her delicate fingers extended. Her dark eyes met mine, and she gaped for several seconds, turning quite pale.

"Hello, Mother," I said, unsettled by her odd reaction.

Rushing to my side, she threw her arms around me.

"My darling son," she said, her touch cool and sylphlike against my cheek. "How handsome you've become. It's been so long since I've seen you without your glasses."

"It's been a long time since you've seen Silas at all, Mama," Castor said.

For once, I chuckled at my brother's naive wit. Mother's fawning always made me feel ill. But I was capable now of containing my displeasure, and I merely nodded to her.

Father met my gaze as I settled into the black-framed chair beside him. His lowered brows indicated discontent.

"You look ravishing this evening, Octavia," Grandfather said, kissing her hand.

"Why thank you," said Mother. "It's nice to be appreciated." She and Father observed each other coldly.

Tension pervaded through the sumptuous courses. Mother, Grandfather, and Castor chatted as if it were a merry event, but Father and I remained detached.

The robots served a delightful bevy of roast ptarmigan, with caramelized fruit heaped beside on a shining platter. As Mother reached for the carving knife, Father placed his hand onto hers and flashed an exaggerated smile.

"Allow me," he said.

Mother looked away and withdrew from his grasp. "Certainly."

"Why didn't you come to greet us?" He pushed the knife into the breast of a plump bird, the steaming flesh parting at his stroke.

Mother leaned forward, posing at her best angle. "You know I'm busy every day, Richard. The Kaezer attacked two cities on the coast of Switzertina last week. It's getting worse, and I'm working double time for the mission project. I was on an important call." She paused and returned his glare. "I apologize for any inconvenience, darling."

Father placed the tender slice of fowl onto her plate and lingered a few seconds at the offering. I recognized the stinging blue of his eyes as the look he gave when he was beyond furious. I didn't know Mother enough to assess the indecipherable tranquility she projected.

"There you are, my dear," Father said. "I do hope your work for those abroad is far more rewarding than your efforts on the home front."

She laughed nervously and bent a fetching hand against her chest. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

Grandfather broke the terse exchange with a cough. "Junior, will you be a kind lad and pass me that honey drizzle sauce?"

I remained composed. "Certainly, Grandfather."

Most of the meal passed in silence.

Then, Castor interjected. "May I ask a favor, Father?"

"Of course you may, son."

"I want to go hunting tomorrow, too."

Father's voice was firm. "No. I'm sorry, Castor. Thohadoun isn't a nature walk. It's too dangerous."

Mother rested her chin on one palm. "They're only four years apart. Castor isn't a small child anymore. I think it's fair that you take him."

"Must I say no yet again?"

She stood, walking slowly to stand behind Castor, and placed her fingers on his shoulders. "It's time you include both of our sons in your work, darling. You devote all of your time to Silas, and never a moment to spare for others. I find it heartbreaking."

Castor was petrified.

Father clenched a fist and slammed it against the table. "He lives under my roof. I provide for him and Silas, while you frolic among your wild gardens and your birds here on Earth, and cry about other people's children. All the while, your own boys wonder what a mother is, as they've only known an uncaring, bitter doll their entire lives. You've all but abandoned your oldest."

Mother's eyes widened. "How dare you..." She turned her back, and strode out of the room in a flutter of brilliant chiffon, leaving the scent of spiced perfume in her wake.

Father inhaled sharply and looked at Castor.

Tears spilled down my brother's face.

"You may come with us tomorrow," Father said, his voice quavering.

"Thank you, Father," Castor said, though he didn't sound excited about it anymore.

"Don't take it so hard, Richard," Grandfather said. "She's given us two strong boys, after all."

Father's expression changed to disgust, and he shoved away from the table, knocking nearby glass and silver to the floor.

Mr. Vernon rushed in, alarmed by the commotion.

"Tell the cook that dinner was superb, Vernon," Father said, "but I'm afraid I've lost my appetite tonight."

Grandfather hailed a footman. "Do we have any more of that aged bourbon, young fellow? I'd like one, straight up. Please."

"I'm not hungry, either," Castor said. "Good night." He ran from the table, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Father stormed out the other door, without looking back.

I felt hollow, but I tried to be good company to Grandfather. His mental faculties had declined over the past year, and he savored his creature comforts more than anything.

He reached across my dessert plate, his hand trembling on my arm. "You're a good boy. And you're a Blane. Don't forget it, Junior."

As Grandfather lost himself in a haze of liquor, I bade him goodnight. I ordered Mr. Vernon to stop serving him the spirits, as it would do no good for him to be incapacitated for Thohadoun in the morning.

The door to Castor's bedroom was ajar, and I heard him sobbing within. As we shared the same shattered existence, some part of me pitied the little runt. I'd long resigned myself to the truth of my parents' failures. However, I doubted Castor had witnessed the ugly reality until tonight.

I pushed the door open. A long moonbeam angled into the room.

Castor gasped, huddled in one corner. "Silas?"

"It's me."

He relaxed somewhat, then resumed staring into shadows.

I knelt next to him, part of me wondering just what in hell I was doing here.

"Do Mama and Father not love each other anymore?" he asked.

My smirk was likely invisible to him in the silvered light. "I doubt they ever did."

He reached into his pocket, and blew his nose into the handkerchief he kept there. His eyes looked darker than mine in the gloom. "How do you know so much?"

I attempted to console him, awkward as it was. "I'm your big brother. It's my job to know things like this so that I can take care of you."

He dove into my arms, startling me. "I love you. You're the best brother I could ever have."

Guilt passed over me, as I was surely the worst brother he could have. But it was fleeting. I returned the hug and realized I'd sealed his loyalty to me a little further. A more compassionate approach might prove useful in our future dealings. I threw a teasing punch at his shoulder, and he laughed.

"I have a present for you." He ran to a set of drawers in the corner and removed a book from the top one. "It's your birthday gift. I'm sorry it's not wrapped. I just want you to have it now."

My eyes were useless in daylight, but they were well attuned to night. I read the gilded title aloud. "A Field Guide To Thohadoun."

Castor nodded excitedly. "It shows all of the different kinds of animals in the preserve, and tells you their stories. I like the one about Old Nobbin. He's so mean that nobody can catch him. Nearly killed twenty men who dared to try. At least, that's what it says."

I smiled, in spite of myself. "Perhaps we'll find him tomorrow. Let's get some sleep, so we'll be fresh for the tracking."