July 10th, 2761

The map of Ban-Ken was rolled up in his mother's grasp as she paced back and forth before him and listened to his recitations. Drew, for the umpteenth time, recited the districts of the city, and the names of the thirty guard towers that lined the city wall. With every mispronunciation, repetition, or hesitation, she shrilly called for him to start over.

It had been the same for hours every day of that week, and Drew's mind was prone to stray from the task at hand, drifting to fanciful thoughts.

"The West End includes?" Lady Shir prodded.

Drew raised his eyes to the ceiling, took a breath, and began.

Pallis sat at the library's window with his afternoon cigarette, watching with clear amusement. Six years prior, he had gone through the same rigorous learning. The Shir boys had to learn early, for their mother did not tolerate any less progression. Naturally, Pallis had taken to the task prodigally.

"Berthold, the Tree Farm is outside of our walls. You do not count it," she snapped, "especially not as if it were a part of the West End. It is absolutely excluded from our city." It was not the first time that he had added the ruins to his listing. It happened to be on his mind. "It is a pile of abandoned waste, and nothing more. We do not waste our laborers or resources on watching over it. There are no towers there. Get this through your head, Berthold. Forget about the Tree Farm."

"Sorry, mother," Drew mumbled.

"Don't mumble. Pronunciate, or do not speak at all."

"I'm sorry, Mother," he repeated, loud and clear.

Pallis exhaled a stream of smoke and spoke up. "Berthold." He never used the boy's preferred name in Lady Shir's presence. "That wreck of a place is in the middle of nowhere. No one goes there, and no one wants to. Perhaps with the exception of a low-grade scrapper or two in search for materials." He paused, then grinned at Lady Shir. "We should pay it a visit, mother, don't you think? A little hands-on-learning couldn't hurt. You've both been cooped up in this library for a week. Let's go on a family excursion!"

Drew brightened, looking to his mother. "Can we?" The child had never left the manor before. He knew every nook and cranny of the above-ground floors, even the ground level, and therefore knew of every exit. Still, he had never left, because he had always been told not to. Unlike visiting Thumbtack, that warning he had heeded.

Lady Shir stroked her chin as she considered the idea. Her eyes locked with her elder son's. With a mildly coy expression, he made a discrete gesture—a nod, a slight motion of the hand—that Drew didn't understand, and the Lady, in return, looked to Drew and placed the map down on the desk before the boy.

"Dress yourselves more respectably. Comb your hair. We will go."

Pallis grinned delightedly and sprung to his feet. He stuck his cigarette between his teeth and rubbed his hands together. "Shall I have the carriage prepared, Mother?"

"I'll see to it. Help your brother clean up."

"With pleasure!" He held out his hand and grinned at Drew. "Come on, Berthold!"

Drew couldn't believe it. It had always been 'Don't go outside, it's filthy' or 'you'll catch something' or 'there's nothing worthwhile out there'. He pushed back his chair before the offer could be redacted and stumbled to grab hold of Pallis, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Excited?" Pallis asked, leading him to the library doors, holding them open.

"Oh, yes, Pallis! Yes!" The boy skipped out into the hall.

Pallis strode on with long and confident strides and Drew quickly shuffled to match his pace. Pallis slipped his hand from Drew's and placed it instead on the boy's back.

"It's much nicer inside, I promise you."

"You think it's more interesting to walk around the manor that you've lived in all your life than to explore new places, in books or otherwise," Drew scoffed. "I'll decide which is nicer for myself."

Pallis laughed. "Yes, fair enough."

He pushed open the door to Drew's bedroom and prodded the boy inside. Cigarette twixt his teeth, he brought Drew to face him with a gentle hold on his shoulder. "Aha." He knelt and pulled his brother's tie from where it hid beneath the boy's soft green sweater-vest.

"Pallis," Drew complained, drawing back, "you know I don't like your smoke in my face."

Pallis sighed and took the burning roll between his fingers. "All right, you can hold it away from your face, then."

"Nooo," Drew whined, "I don't want to touch it."

"Fine. Then hold your breath." He returned it to his teeth and muttered over it. "Your tie is in a mess of a state. Everything that you're wearing is. Look at all these wrinkles... good grief. And this damn—scuze my language—knot here is appalling. You do know how to tie your neckties, don't you?"

Drew grumbled, "It's hard when I have to wear these gloves all the time."

"You're allowed to take them off, silly." Pallis plucked the tie's knot loose and slid it from Drew's shirt collar. He then raised Drew's hand and pulled off the white glove. He laid his hand over Drew's. "Not hot. See?"

"But..." He had only been three years old when he had burned Pallis with his bare hands and had worn gloves ever since. He did not understand why it happened, or how, but he feared it. Even three years later, with very little memory of the incident, he remained uneasy.

"Drew..." Pallis smiled, gently pressing the boy's palm. "It's all right. If you accidentally burn something, which I personally believe that you won't, it can be renewed. Look, look." He pulled down his sleeve and pointed to his wrist. "See? New skin. Even if you happen to burn me, I can heal. And property can be replaced, so you really needn't worry about accidentally scathing your ties and what-not. Really, Drew." He looked the boy sincerely in the eye, gripping his shoulder and taking the cigarette from his teeth. "You don't need to be afraid. If the gloves are a bother, then you," he prodded Drew's chest, "don't bother."

Drew blushed, uncomfortably biting his lip. He let Pallis pluck the glove from his other hand, and uncomfortably pulled his hands to himself.

"Chin up, Drew, we all have a little part of us to fear. Make peace with it." Pallis tossed Drew's gloves onto the nearby bed, with the tie, and pushed to his feet. "Let's get you dressed, okay?"

"Okay." Drew rubbed his nose. "But, Pallis?"

Pallis peered into Drew's walk-in closet. "Yes?"

"Can you put out your cigarette? Please?"

"I haven't finished with it, yet."

"Please? The smoke makes my skin itch and it's hard to breathe."

Pallis tilted his head back and gave an exasperated look to the ceiling. His never-wavering smile was still there, but more lopsided and without the show of pearly whites. "Whatever you say, hero." He unhooked a keyring from his belt, strolling to the window.

Drew sat on his bed and watched Pallis mess with his keys. The window was always kept locked.

"Why do you have a key to my window, and I don't?" Drew asked.

"Because I don't run around wearing capes," Pallis answered. "I imagine capes may lead to fantasies about flying. Most imaginative kids just jump off their beds, but imagine... out the window!" With his hands, he mimed a person jumping out a window, adding a whistle and a crash sound. "I'd be devastated." He shook his head and twisted the correct key in the lock. Wedging it open a crack, he flicked his cigarette out.

"I wouldn't jump out the window," Drew mumbled.

Pallis heaved it open further. "Well, I would hope not. I'd miss you!" He ruffled Drew's hair. "We'll leave it open for now; let some air in, let the smoke out."

"Thanks, Pallis."

Pallis nodded. "Of course!" He disappeared into Drew's closet. Drew swung his legs while he waited and listened to the clicks and squeaks of hangers as they rattled along their rail. Pallis grunted and hmphed. "Drew, when was the last time you had your clothing ironed?"

Drew reddened and looked uncomfortably to the floor. "I—I don't know."

Pallis's head poked from the closet doorway, brows raised and jaw hung in a comically exaggerated expression somewhere between incredulity and ridicule. "Do you mean 'I don't know' as in it was long enough ago that you don't remember?"

Drew rubbed the back of his neck. "Well... Well, the ironing lady always looks so busy. I didn't want to give her any more work to do. Can't I be taught to do it myself?"

"Drew," Pallis scolded, stepping out from the closet, "her sole purpose is to do your ironing. Don't be so childish. Mother is going to be very displeased when you show up to the carriage in wrinkled clothing, and you'll have to tell her how you've been encouraging the servants to slack off. Again."

"Nooo," Drew mewled, pressing his hands hard against his neck. It never ended well to be caught being lenient with the staff, so after many times being caught in the past and never changing, Drew had become that much better at hiding his errs from his family. If he told Pallis it had been nearly four months since he'd last asked for the service of Merida, the ironing lady, he was sure the older boy would faint. "She'll not let me out!"

"You let me worry about that, hero." Pallis winked and returned to the closet. "I think this day out will be good for you, so I won't let your... poor form ruin it. We will go out, mark my words." A uniform green jacket, very like Pallis's, but less decorated, flew from the closet and landed on the floor at Drew's feet. "I think that our best bet here is to go with a jacket—and yes, I know that you overheat easily, but you'll have to sweat it out." Pallis chuckled.

Drew came forward to pick up the jacket and a black necktie jumped out at him, then a white button-up shirt and black trousers followed. Pallis grinned at him as he pulled the garments off his head, frowning.

"You never wear the jacket so it's in neat condition, thank goodness! It will cover up the wrinkles well enough." The older boy closed himself into the closet. "Knock when you're dressed and we'll be off."

***

Drew's toes dragged in protest, but Pallis firmly held a hand between his shoulder blades and kept him moving forward.

"Can't I tell her later?" Drew pleaded.

"Tcha," Pallis scorned. He shook his head. "She'll notice the wrinkles in your slacks and your collar. You can't avoid her. Tell her outright. Take ownership. And for goodness sake, Drew! Walk with confidence. Pick up your feet before you scuff your shoes."

Long before the boys reached the manor entrance, the guards heaved open the grand double doors, knowing all too well of the consequence they would receive if they were late. The stories and rumors of Lord Pallis Shir's obsession with enforcing discipline and perfection haunted every man and woman that worked under him. It cast a shadow over them in a manner that a campfire story might, but without the warmth of fire and company to fend from the chilling of their blood. They said that Pallis could snap from smiling to snake-like in seconds, and God be with anyone in his presence when he did.

The boy walked past as if they weren't there, ushering his younger sibling onwards to the carriage prepared outside. Four guards stood by and a driver, marked by cap and gloves, fidgeted with a whip. Lady Shir awaited the boys, sharp stony eyes locked on Drew.

Drew winced at her frown.

Pallis chortled. "With any luck, maybe this time you'll actually learn from your mistakes, yes?"

Lady Shir folded her arms. The guards around her generously gave her more space.

Pallis slipped his hand into Drew's at the bottom of the stairs, giving him a squeeze, and whispered, "Buck yourself up, hero, you'll be fine."

"Wrinkles, Drew," their mother quipped coldly. "What sort of example are you going to be setting to the public with wrinkles in your clothing?"

"I... I'm sorry, Mother," Drew apologized, suddenly painfully aware of the sweat pooling under his arms.

"Look me in the eyes."

Drew obeyed. Just the thought of her scorn brought on tears. The unkind appearance of her aged, angular features provided no comfort. "I'm sorry, Mother." He pursed his lips. "It was the best I could do."

The creases in her brows multiplied. "The best?"

He shrunk and tried to hide behind Pallis. Pallis snapped at him and brushed him forward again. "Speak for yourself, Drew."

Drew whimpered, feeling his palms grow clammy. "I thought that Merida looked terribly busy, so I... I haven't asked her..."

"Merida?" Lady Shir interrupted.

Drew blushed and stared at his shoes. "The ironing lady."

"I haven't..." His voice cracked. "I haven't asked her to..."

"Look at me," Lady Shir commanded.

Drew looked. "I haven't asked her to do my ironing," he said, very quickly. Before Lady Shir could bring her wrath upon him, Pallis yowled and yanked his hand from Drew's. He danced in a circle, robbed of his composure.

He stopped when Lady Shir's gaze focused on him, and promptly poised. "So sorry, Mother," he expressed, sounding strained behind his smile. "I'm just so very excited to get on our way... outside of the gates... outside of the wall. So, so very excited."

Lady's Shir's thin, painted lips twitched skeptically. "You have never liked leaving the manor."

"If that were true, why would I have suggested it?"

"We'll discuss that later." She returned to Drew, pinning his shoulder under her claw. "There will be no privileges for you for a month. You will have no access to the library, no juice, no desserts. You will confront your ironing lady yourself and instruct her to iron your clothing weekly. You will then watch her take punishment for her slacking. Understood?"

Drew ran his sleeve over his eyes, nodding. He nodded over and over. "Y-Yes, Mother."

"Get in the carriage."

Drew stepped slowly at first, then quickly scurried to the opened door to the back seat and scooted as far from his mother as was possible.

Pallis started to climb in with him, but Lady Shir stopped him.

"Pallis," she said, "you will be taking care of business on the way out."

Pallis's smile wavered. "Oh?"

The Lady held a hand out behind her and a guard placed an object, wrapped in a handkerchief, into her palm. She dropped the object into Pallis's palm, keeping the handkerchief to herself. "The doctor's payment."

Pallis pulled a face, holding the vial away from himself in disgust. A thick red liquid sloshed inside of the glass. "Mother! No, I—"

"Pallis."

He sneered and delved into his pocket, drawing out a handkerchief. He wrapped the vial in it and shoved it away. "Very well, Mother," he spat.

"Mind your tone, Pallis Lionel Shir."

Pallis scowled and climbed into the back seat. He pulled the door shut behind himself and threw the curtain across the window, then sat back and crossly folded his arms. His fingers irritably drummed over his biceps and he stared at the partition wall ahead, where the boys' mother would sit in a separate cabin.

There was and ordered commotion outside, and the carriage jerked into motion.

Drew stared at Pallis, worried of the boy's uncharacteristic brooding expression. The tears were still dribbling down the younger boy's cheeks, so easily shaken out by confrontation with his mother. "P-Pallis?"

Pallis looked at him darkly. After a moment of eye contact, he softened and wrapped an arm around Drew, pulling the boy close. His smile returned, gentle. "Hush, Drew. It's no time for tears. You're going to see the world, at last!"

"Thank you for distracting Mother," Drew mumbled.

Pallis's brows knitted. "Distracting Mother...? Distracting..." He gasped and held Drew out at armlength, looking sternly into the boy's eyes. "No, I didn't mean to distract her. I wouldn't distract her. You'll never learn anything if you aren't punished, and I don't want to see my little brother turn out for the worst, do you hear? I would not ever try to lessen your punishment in any way, because I am trying to help you learn. There are rules in our house, and it is your duty as a young lord to obey them."

Drew gulped and averted his eyes. "Oh."

Pallis released him and fluttered his hand briefly in the child's face. "You burned me," he muttered dismissively. "I jumped because I was surprised."

Drew squeaked, gasping and covering his mouth. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm so s—"

"It is fine, Drew," Pallis interrupted. He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, hero. I can take a little heat." He winked and reached into his coat, from which he pulled a black and a white pair of gloves. "You left these behind," he said, tossing the white pair to Drew. "Put them on, just in case. And I'll put on mine."

Drew pulled the cloth over his hands without complaint. It felt secure.

Pallis gently held Drew's cheeks and wiped the child's tears away. He brushed a hair into place, away from Drew's eyes. "Now. Put a smile on and look outside. You get to see the city today! In a few minutes' time, we'll be out of the manor gates and you'll be so disappointed that you'll never feel the need to go out again until you're my age, and you're mature, and you can do my job."

Drew tugged open the curtains with vigour, but frowned at Pallis's words. The older brother's cheery tone was misleading. "I don't think I'll be disappointed," said Drew. "I didn't know you had a job."

"News flash, hero; the real world isn't at all like it is in your silly children's books. For starters, have you ever seen a blue sky? Not in our lifetime, not even in Mother's." Pallis turned away to glare at the closed curtain of his window, jerkily pulling on his gloves. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. Drew didn't see his curled lip, but he heard the repulsion in his brother's tone when he said, "I have many jobs, but the ones out in the city are the worst. The filth of this place... grabbing, demanding, moaning, snivelling, wretched..."

"Oh... Oh!" Drew thrust his finger against the window, face brightening. Lingering thought of punishment fled. "Palis! Look! The gates are opening!"

"Joy."