The next morning consisted of the chaotic shuffling of household servants scrambling to needs and demands of the newly-arrived guests. It was a much-needed change from the deathly silence that usually haunted the large building.

Sat in front of a sturn-looking man, Astor felt a handful of piney resin rearrange his hair. Astor preferred keeping his hair down to hide a small scar on his forehead, but the barber insisted on this fashion. After a few more globs of gel, Astor stood up and inspected himself through the metal mirror. His face was still the same childish face. Sighing to himself, Astor stood up to look down at his clothes.

He wore a long-sleeved, white shirt draped with a sleeveless, dark-gray tunic that ran down to his hips. His matching gray trousers were decorated with golden embroidery on the sides that ran down his legs to his ankles. The clothes seemed to make him look much taller than usual.

Astor fiddled with the creases on his shirt before a knock on the door alerted him. Opening the door, he started walking towards the ballroom where most of the commute was to take place. He began to notice the shift in the number of unknown faces as he strode closer to the large ballroom. Some of the unfamiliar guests exchanged glances with him.

Stopping briefly in front of the doors, Astor took a deep breath before pushing through the large doors.

Unsurprisingly, inside was a massive gathering of individuals who all seemed somewhat jovial to be in attendance even though the war had just finished. Looking around for his brother, Astor felt a resounding slap to his back before turning around.

"You're a bit late. Come on, Let us greet our relatives."

Astor arched his back sorely.

"How far up did you have to reach to do that?"

"T'was like scaling the highest of mountains." his brother mused.

Holding off a smile, Astor followed Bertram as they crossed the umber-colored floorboards to the other side of the room. They soon approached a small gathering of people who all wore a variety of neatly arranged, fur clothing. Bertram walked straight to a grim, skinny man and shook his hand overfamiliarly.

"Ah! Reginald. The last time we met was at the wedding. How are you?"

The man's eyebrow's twitched irritably. He quietly removed his hand from Bertram's grasps.

"It has been too long, Bertram. Disregarding our few problems with the Council, I am quite well."

Bertram laughed nervously.

"So you've heard about the levy placed on imports. I assure you I have tried to convince the council otherwise, but they were persistent. It seems that most of them found it the quickest and easiest way to collect money."

"I thank you for your efforts then. It is frustrating when the choices of the council unwittingly disrupt one's own livelihood. Nonetheless, I will withhold my complaints as long our family continues to have just representation."

Bertram smiled. "I will try to the best of my abilities."

The gaunt-looking man nodded and shifted his gaze to Astor.

"Let me introduce the two of you. This is the great businessman, Reginald Garrent. He is Loretta's father. Reginald, this is my long-lost younger brother, Astor. He has disappeared from us in order to fight for the country under the guise of a humble soldier."

Astor stuck out his hand. "It's a great honor to finally make your acquaintance, sir. I've experienced your generosity towards us soldier during the winter seasons."

Reginald shook his hand.

"So you've worn my furs before. I'm glad to have my products credited with such importance. Thank you for your services as well, Sir Astor."

"Of course."

Nodding in conclusion, Astor peered around to see Bertram move to greet an older woman.

"Kind mother, I am glad to see you in good health. How's brother Tirrell faring?"

"Stubborn as can be. Rarely comes back home these days. Thank you for your concerns, Bertram."

"I heard he was helping to treat the conflicts of where the borders would be on an island between the port towns of East Blakewood and West Vinewell.

The woman sighed. "There's steady progress, albeit the issue with the local villages on the island. Frankly, I have had enough of it."

"Is there anything I help with?"

"Oh no, it is fine. I couldn't possibly get you involved knowing how busy you are."

"Helping my family will always be my first priority."

Astor gazed about the room as he waited for his brother to finish. The older woman took notice and shifted the conversation.

"And who may this gentleman be?"

"Ah, I forgot. This is my younger brother, Astor."

"It's nice to meet you, Sir."

"Likewise, My lady."

"My, I wasn't aware that you had a brother Bertram. This is indeed a surprise."

"Yes. He was quite the shy person when we were younger. Wouldn't even mention that he was going off to fight."

"Really? How noble."

"Thank you." replied Astor.

"In any case, it's great to see you again mother."

"Always a pleasure Dear Bertram, as with you Sir Astor."

After exchanging some departing gestures, Bertram made his way towards the large arrangement of tables.

Astor was pleasantly surprised how much he could recall on proper etiquette. That and the self-practice he's done last night seemed to be just enough for him to scrape by.

"We've got friends and family that are curious about you," his brother said. "Let's go meet them."

Walking up to a group of individuals, Bertram waited until their conversations had died down. With thier full attention, Bertram gestured towards Astor with an outstretched hand.

"Here he finally is, my own flesh and blood. Hard to believe that lofty fellow is my brother, ain't it."

With anticipating gazes, he stepped towards his congregation.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all. Here's to hoping I won't be as ludicrous as how my brother would describe me."

Smiles of courtesy were exchanged before Bertram began introducing the many spectators to Astor.

"This here's Miss Carmella, third daughter of Reginald and Loretta's sister."

The woman in a green dress and curled, hair-ends beneath her headdress bowed.

"This is Mister Gusso Hootegem. A valuable business partner that has ties with the foreign Loleses."

The man in a purple tunic and black hoes nodded.

"This is Lady Schmidt. Patron to the miners working in the valleys."

An older lady with a broad, blue gown gestured politely.

"And this is..."

As the more time passed, Astor became lost in the swarm of faces he was made to memorize. By the time Astor and Bertram were through with most of the formal reception, Astor was nearly at the point of insanity.

"That about does it. Have fun brother."

With differing schedules, Astor and Bertram finally split ways. With a dulling sensation in his head, Astor had only one thing in mind, food. He walked up to the dining tables that aligned the sides of the giant hall. As he approached, he noticed that the array of foodstuff was organized in order of the traditional feasting style.

There was red wine positioned at the beginning of the tables as well as a series of shortcakes. As Astor walked past, he spotted some cups that were filled with sweetened milk. Grasping a cup, he then proceeded further down the table. Eyeing the assortment of apples, carrots, and cabbage as he passed, Astor came across the light meats section of the feast. Inside a gold-painted bowl was what seemed to be a porridge of chicken blended in with a white, sweet-smelling liquid. The figures of swans, guineafowl, and turkey sprawled throughout the larger section of the table. Looking closely, one could see the amount of detail the chiefs had applied to make these birds look alive, even to go so far as to paint their eyes and beaks. Many were made into pies and, occasionally, Astor could see the decorative heads and tail feathers of the colorful birds protrude from the large, brown lumps of pies plates. Astor has seen these displays multiple times before, but their realistic expressions will always continue to unsettle him.

Overlooking the stringy meats, Astor continued to what seemed to be the pork and beef section. On a plate further down the table was a detached head of a browned, roasted boar, peeking out from a plate garnished with peas and herbs.

Looking down at the table, he finally stumbled on his favorite selection of meats, beef. Walking past most of the deep, dull-colored veal pieces, he stopped when seeing a neat row of hardy, lean beef lining a plate. Astor signaled the waiter for a plate.

"What can I get for you, Sir?"

"I would like those lean pieces of meat with a few of the smaller chunks over there," Astor pointed.

"Right away, sir."

The waiter hailed to a young boy and Astor watch as they pulled out, from a crate, a dozen or so, silver, stakes. Astor watched, curiously, as the two servers poked the dozen or so sharp ends of the stakes into the meat before presenting it to him. He couldn't help but notice the decor that filled every aspect of the ballroom. The stakes each had a series of small vines that reached up to a floral encrusted tip and the dish was adorned by chains of dark-red vines, bordering the outer rim in a rigid, floral pattern.

As extravagant as ever, Mother.

Astor took the piece of the meat by the stick and bit into the succulent chunk. Soon after finishing the plate, he continued down the bustling line.

Astor came upon the last selection of the menu. It consisted of aged cheeses and more alcoholic beverages. Seeing that his cup was empty, he grabbed a nearby glass of white wine and motioned away from the assembly of foods.

Before making his way outside and away from the nosiy congregation, Astor noticed a familiar face. A face that has not, in the slightest, changed from his recollection. He rushed over to confirm his suspicions.

"Tutor Bluenski?"

The man with scraggly hair and deep-suken features turn to face him.

"And you are?" Blue replied with a tone accent.

"I'm Astor. You tutored me here once before, when I was much youn-"

"Yes, It's true I have taught you. You've grown much. Ah, I am a professor of sorts at the University now. How fares you're studies? Do you do well?"

Astor smiled at the encrypted word choice.

"Indeed I have. Thank you. A professor of high status? That is great. You have my deepest regards. My studies, unfortunately, has been on hold for quite a while now, and yes, I fare well."

Blue nodded his head. "You are a great student. Much is to be learned but you are still young. Do not worry. Have you read my paper? If not, then I apologize for not having much to talk about."

"I have not. Where can it be read?"

"No worries, not a fret. It is long and I wouldn't want to read it. Wait later and I will introduce you to it when it is truly complete. If you ever need someone to teach the greatness of animal laliquy, do remember me."

"I will, it was a pleasure meeting you again professor."

Astor watched as the man made his way towards the dinner table in a hurry.

There's no doubt that someone as practical as him is only here for the food. Animal laliquy must be some fancy new term for living glass.

Walking outside to the light chur of crickets, Astor sat down under the moonlight while twirling the glass of wine in his hand. For some reason, he couldn't repress the smile that lingered from the nostalgic encounter.

The pursuit of knowledge waits for no wars, indeed.

Astor began to reminscent about his childhood. Tutor Blue was terrible at his job, and the only thing that kept young-boy Astor from complaining to his mom was the unkept passion that oozed out during his lectures. Although he could barely understand Blue's difficult vocabulary at the time, Astor still remember the captivation that his beaming eyes showed when he spoke. He would, then, ask himself what was so interesting in Blue's study, only to scratch the surface of an learning the new, obessive interest, later.

Astor's recollection was, soon, interupted by the increasing scuttle of noises that his prescence had unnerved. Looking around and noticing a pattern of adverted gazes, he lost interest in continuing any more interactions and slowly poured his drink from ontop the short balcony down to the glimmering vegetation below.

I still got those kids to attend to.

Astor had planned for a long night, and being impaired wouldn't help fix that house.