There it is...
It was the end of a long summer day in the catacombs of Orion's Peak when a young elf, two years shy of manhood, found himself limping home. He had had a tumultuous school day to say the least, worsened by his most recent encounter with Samiel. The bully had been particularly aggressive today, and the boy had acquired some impressive new bruises. He hadn't taken them laying down, however. He knew his father would never forgive him for allowing himself to be beaten without some pain inflicted on his attacker.
Still, he knew how he had conducted himself wouldn't matter because, as soon as he opened the front door, he would find his mother lazing on one of the sitting room's massive armchairs. True to her form, that was exactly what she was doing when the boy entered their Bronze Street apartment. As he crept across the threshold and silently closed the door, he began to wonder if he might make it to his room without catching her attention. But, before he could even reach the bottom of the staircase that lie in front of him, his mother yelled without moving.
"Aennin! Come here!"
Anera, a soldier in her prime, was able to notice anything from the armchair that now seemed to confine her. This only proved it for the boy. Aennin sidled into the room with a cloud of dread over him. When Anera looked at his face, she saw the marks of his recent battle immediately and began to scowl.
"Explain." The command was simple, but the tone was so blunt that Aennin couldn't hesitate to obey.
"Samiel again, ma'am."
Anera narrowed her eyes for a moment before throwing her head back in exasperation. "This is becoming a weekly thing, Aennin! When are you going to quit listening to your father's foolish advice and stay out of fights you can't win?"
Aennin had taken this response more times than he could handle, which why he finally found the nerve to respond sarcastically, "I'm fine, mother. Thanks for asking!"
He then left the sitting room without waiting for a response. Ignoring her calls for him to come back, he stormed up the stairs, nearly bumping into his father, Morrin at the top. Morrin seemed to appraise Aennin's injures with a severe expression.
"Did you at least try to defend yourself?"
Aennin nodded quietly.
"How'd you do?"
"He has a knot in his head about now... from one of my books."
Morrin sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "Well, better than nothing I suppose. Don't worry, son. We'll toughen you up as soon as we bring our shop back into the black. I'm sure it's too much to ask for your lazy, drunk mother to help us, so we'll bring your uncle Kayar on our next trip to the mines."
Aennin's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Uncle Kayar is a bigger drunk than mother!"
Morrin laughed at his son's bluntness. "That he is, but at least he can drink standing up! Go change into something that's not torn. We have to get to the shop."
Aennin nodded and replied, "I'll be right there."
The boy slipped into his room for a quick change of his battered clothing; off with the tattered school clothes and on with the copper velvet uniform he was compelled to wear in his father's clock shop. He gazed woefully at the crumpled pile he had made of his previous outfit, certain that he would struggle to find a tailor that would be open after they closed the shop. Figuring he had no choice but to try, he dug a wire-mesh bag out of his closet and stuffed them inside.
Aennin was in the act of putting his work boots on when he heard a creak coming from the direction of the staircase. Figuring that Morrin would be in his room getting ready for work and that Anera would not be breaking her year-long streak of self-imposed confinement to the ground floor, that could only mean that Aennin's older sister Kana had decided to grace them with her presence.
The young woman didn't get far, however, before Morrin began to yell.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"I've been taking care of a friend in the Honor Ward," Kana said innocently, but her father was having none of it.
"Your lies get weaker and weaker every time," Morrin hissed spitefully.
"Well, I figure why bother if you're not going to buy them anyway?" Kana replied coolly. "Can we do this later? I'm exhausted!"
"Damn it all, Kana!" Morrim roared, "You are not going to get anywhere in life if you keep skipping work to drink yourself stupid in front of those perverts at Katim's!"
"Are you sure you want to talk to me about Katim?" Kana growled threateningly.
Kana's response was followed by an audible slap, which startled Aennin into barging into the hall. "What's going on?"
Aennin would find his sister on the ground, floored by the force of her father's strike. She got up, grumbling to herself before staring into Morrin's eyes with a glare that burned with hatred. "It's pathetic that you think you can lecture me about being friends with Katim. I'm going to bed."
"You're coming with me to the fucking shop!" Morrin roared. "Get your uniform on! You have ten minutes!"
Aennin looked into Kana's eyes and watched them droop at their father's demand. They were bloodshot and heavily lidded with blatant exhaustion. She wasn't going to be much help like this, and he didn't think it was fair of Morrin to try to force her on.
"Father, we can manage without her," Aennin said tentatively. "Business is slow this month, and I've already cast all of the casings we'll need for the week."
"See? What purpose is there to dragging me off to an unprofitable day of slave labor?" Kana said with a smirk. "There really isn't much for me to do there since business started to slow, is there?"
Morrin sighed and grumbled. "Fine. In your room. We will be having a long discussion in the morning. You had better be here, Kala."
Kala staggered to her room in victory and snickered. "I look forward to it."
As Kala swayed her way past the threshold, Morrin leaned over Aennin and growled, "You'll be making cogs all night, boy. You have nine minutes. Do something with your face. You look like hell." Then he stomped all the way back to the master bedroom. Once he was gone, Kala's slowly swung open and a hand flitted the opening to beckon Aennin inside.
Aennin would find his sister leaning against the wall by her door, wearing a dopey smile. "Thanks for saving me, little brother. You're my hero."
Aennin frowned and said, "I don't see how you can be so cheerful. Mother and Father aren't happy with you."
"Fuck 'em," Kala slurred, evidently forgoing the effort to conceal her drunkenness now. "I'm not doing anything with my time that either of them get to judge me for."
"Do you really like to go to Katim's?"
Kala rolled her eyes and sloppily shook her head. "Nnnnnoo! No! I've only been there one time and the place fucking sucked. The people there are grabby and the drinks are all at least half water. Father only knows about it because he's always there holding down one of the Tower tables."
"Father plays cards?"
Kala nodded. "Yep. He plays cards every minute he's not at work selling his stupid clocks or at home pretending to have a family. He thinks he's good enough at Tower to save his shop, but if he was, he could afford to hire some real employees instead of exploiting us for ch... for cheap labor."
Aennin frowned disapprovingly and said, "Well, I guess we'll just have to do better in the shop, then! I need to finish getting ready."
"Wait! Wait! You're not gonna go like that are you!" She pointed a shaking finger at Aennin's face.
Aennin shrugged, causing Kala to throw open the drawer to her vanity with a tut. Within minutes, Kala's expert hand had managed to conceal Aennin's bruises with her makeup. When she was finished, she grinned. "There! Now maybe father will let you mind the till for a change!"
Aennin smirked as he studied his reflection in the vanity, astonished with her quick results. "Well, Father has already told me I'll be smelting and casting gears the whole time. Thanks for the help anyway."
"No problem!" Kala chirped. "Come and see me in the morning and I can touch you up before school."
Aennin was about to decline when Morrin's voice thundered through the apartment. "Aennin, let's GO! We're late!"
Aennin sighed and hurried back to his room to pull on his boots before leaving with his father for another evening in the clock shop.
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