❖ KIRNON ❖ (B/Solo)

Whoop! Thud!

In the massive and wide hallways of Lord . . . 's estate, two young boys quarreled. One with short, round brown locks and the other with blond, wavy, unkempt ones. The blond boy was on the floor, eyes wide with shock and his cheek hardned with a pink bruise from the brown boy's knuckles.

"Stop following me around like some slow brat, would you? It really pisses me off." the brown-haired boy cursed, his fists clenched and a looked of revulsion and malice filling his glowering eyes. He stood over the downed blond with unrelenting hatred swirling in his gaze, his lips pursed as if he could pit on him at any moment.

The blond boy watched him, rubbing the bruise as if he couldn't believe that it was there. "K-Kirnon?—" the boy, Fane, called out to him but was interrupted by the tightening scowl on Kirnon's face.

"And don't call me that, you piece of trash! I don't want to be dragged down to your level. . ."

. . .

. . .

. . .

It wasn't always like this between Kirnon and I. Aside from my Mother, Kirnon was always the kindest to me. Whenever I made a mistake, whenever I messed up, he would never condemn me for it or hit me like Lord . . . would. He was the best at everything that he picked up—cooking, cleaning, singing and whatnot. There was even a time where our Lord suddenly had a taste for Desiertian coffee whose beans were tough in the sense that it was difficult for even the most seasoned of baristas to bring out their best flavors. So when our Lord told Kirnon to brew him a cup, he was able to do it perfectly and with no practice at all. He impressed even the eldest of our family members, which was an impressive feat to accomplish.

That incident and many others alone were enough to make us wonder if he was able to do all of these things because his life depended on it—which it often would—or if he simply had a natural affinity to pick things up and master them. Many of the young Howler children were compared to him and were told to look at him as a role model. Many of my aunts and cousins brought up their children to be carbon copies of Kirnon, and even more began to regard him as the "Howler Family Prodigy" or something along those lines. But I didn't mind any of that. My family pushed me to be more like him, and while I did, it wasn't because they told me to. The admiration was genuine and existed even before our family suddenly began to compare us to Kirnon. I'm not sure what it was, but I just wanted to be like him.

Our Lord was one that could be hard to read at times. Sometimes, we could never really tell what he was thinking. Ever.

But if there was one thing obvious about Lord . . ., it was his liking of Kirnon. Many of the adults said that this was because Kirnon never made a mistake, but Fane believed it was because there were so many good qualities about Kirnon. He was kind, he was funny, and was an overall charismatic kid. Regardless, Kirnon was yelled at like any other Howler servant, but far less than any other kid by that same touken.

Fane, on the other hand, had very few skills or redeemable qualities in comparison to the other Howler servants. Some might have said that being about to knit, cook, clean, and a variety of other things was an amazing set of skills to have. But, these were skills that practically all of the Howler servants had to learn. It was only minor things that made them different from one another, as the nuances in their morning routine, whether or not we liked sweets, what kind of composers they listened to. If their Lord wished it, as he often did, they would like the foods and composers that they were expected to like. They'd say and act the way they were expected to when he was watching, and often times when he wasn't. Fane's "quirk" was his affinity to pick up trivial and strangely relevant facts and topics from encyclopedias. He was very knowledgable in a litany of things that could make him have a place in almost any conversation.

Kirnon, being the pinnacle that all Howler children aspired to reach, was attracted to Fane's quirk and would often be happy to learn new things from him. Fane felt like he had won the lottery each time Kirnon should interest or genuine surprise in what Fane would tell him, and would sometimes even approach him about random topics.

No one else aside from Kirnon and his mother showed interest in Fane to that degree, so he felt especially special when they would. It even encouraged him to learn even more and do even more to impress Kirnon but also strayed away from things that their Lord may have not appreciated.

So Fane learned a litany of things and prevailed at them greatly. He learned to speed read, to prepare some of their Lord's favorite dishes, play the Lute, to fix objects and appliances in their estate. He became so proficient at these things that his older family members would begin to call for him to solve problems.

Fane practiced much of this during his own free time and without the prying eyes of their Lord. To his knowledge, Kirnon had yet to discover Fane's newfound talents, and Fane was itching to show him, but could never quite find the right time.

His other family members were faster to discover Fane's talents than anyone else, but never praised him for it. He had gotten enough attention to even catch the menacing eyes of his Lord. So, abruptly, he approached him one day.

Well, it might have been a stretch to say that it was their Lord that approached Fane first, as it could not have been any other way, after all. It was an afternoon when Fane and Kirnon were making their way down the hall. They both had an assortment of tablewear and plates stacked up in their hands, Kirnon carrying a considerable amount more since he was the biggest of the two, both on their way to drop them off somewhere.

Down the hallway was were two tall men, one in his mid-forties and the other much older than that. For some reason, Fane couldn't recall either of their faces, but the older gentlemen that accompanied him was obviously some sort of relative since all of the servants under their Lord came from one family.

Kirnon and Fane were the first to stop to greet their Master as they began to cross paths. Kirnon was smiling placidly like he usually did and Fane, who failed to mimick him underneath the imposing pressure of their Master's presence, had a lop-sided, nervous one.

"Good afternoon, Lord . . ." Kirnon greeted him brightly. Their Master would pause and look down at the pair, and Kirnon would continue smiling.

Fane, on the other hand, almost fumbled over his words in greeting their mutual Master. "Good afternoon, Master . . ."

The Master did not say anything for a moment and looked down at the pair of boys with his usual, unreadable expression although Fane could not recall what that might have looked like. Whatever his eyes might have looked like at that time, Fane was especially anxious when they looked at him.

"You there. Boy." The Master spoke in his deep, rough, gravelly voice. Kirnon said nothing and looked at Fane, who looked at Kirnon, confused. The Master suddenly spoke again. "I'm talking to you."

"Fane." Kirnon whispered to him in a voice so low that only Fane could hear it. As a result, the blonde perked up and looked at their Master with his back erected and eyes avoiding his, staring at his lips and chin instead.

"O-Oh. Y-Yes, milord?" Fane sputtered nervously.

"Are you the boy who made me my breakfast yester morn?" The Master queried, his imposing undertones unchanging.

Fane swallowed and spoke quietly. "Y-Yes, milord. . ."

"It also has been brought to my attention that you have an affinity for cooking. Is this so?" The Master asked again.

Fane paused for a moment. He had never had an affinity for cooking as far as he could remember, but ever since he's expanded his proficiency in a variety of fields, even that of cooking, his relatives would sometimes observe and gossip about it. It also may have been true that since honing that craft, his cooking skills might have surpassed that of the standard set by everyone else as of recently.

"I wouldn't say that I'm especially gifted beyond the expectations you set for me, milord—"

"I see. Very well. Why don't you prepare something fresh tomorrow morn? I have a taste for something from a butcher." The Master suggested, even though to Fane and every other servant, it was always a command.