Dinner party part 2

"AAAAAAHHH!!!!!!"

Please do not mind the sounds of tortured screaming in the background. That's just my mother getting her hair done.

Ouch. I can almost feel her pain. I pat my own little head of curls in sympathy, maybe in memory. At least my curls aren't as bad as my Mother's….I think.

Not much has changed since I dozed off after getting dressed. As a cute little girl with Lilyanne's face, I look absolutely adorable in practically anything. It's not much effort.

Party frocks on! Ribbons, done! Shoes, shiny!

Our Mother on the other hand takes too long, so we fell asleep.

Currently, my twin is still snuggled on the sofa daybed, sucking her thumb as I refused to give her my own hand to cuddle and hold. Such a child.

An outer dress of shimmery yellow drapes over the light and soft layers of a white material peeking out. With my sister's fair baby soft skin and almost pinkish angelic curls, she seems to be the prime subject of many works of high art, a little cherub, even when drooling in her sleep.

I just wiped my mouth to make sure nothing similar stains my own. Now that I'm wide awake, refreshed, and not being bothered by any distractions, I can finally go over tonight's game plan.

There must always be a plan going into battle. Ahem, not to sound like Grampa but in life, everything is some sort of battle!

I need to mentally go over why our guests are even here, to prepare myself.

My home villa is very lovely, yes, but it's not exactly an easy place to get to. The rush of our spontaneous birthday festival is long over, even that was a logistical nightmare in many parts.

Why are the Doukas family really here? Now of all times? What could Lord Doukas want?

Perhaps, a hunting trip with his sons?

We do have a very high and active beast season compared to other territories. It's also one of the reasons our territory is rather sparse and empty. Too high a chance of daily deaths, or, at the very least, mauling. We're rather lacking in infrastructure, or as my snobbish cousin Philippe calls us "a backwater collection of absurdly brutish country pumpkins."

While I'm sure he was just jealous that we have delicious pumpkins growing lands, he's not wrong. There isn't much to see or do here outside nature or matters related to the troops. It's not a great place for a vacation.

For another war and violence-obsessed military-based family though? I'm sure it's perfect.

Insufficient reasoning. Certainly, there must be something beyond that.

We may be close allies, but not anywhere close enough physically as to run over next door to knock on our door to borrow a cup of flour.

Oh. Oh, wait.

Flour? Food. It's all related. It's so simple but it all makes sense.

The famines are well on their way. Silly me.

I haven't exactly forgotten but the dangers are just not imminent in southern countries.

Though we often joke that my Father comes from the 'north', that's just when my parents fight lovingly about what to have for dinner. My Father's side of the family, the Bicchieris, still lie in the peninsula of our shared republic. Though they're situated many weeks of riding or sailing away from us, they still made off with quite the profit and minimal suffering to their population during those many years of famines. All thanks to the benefits of a warm southern country. we're not as affected by shocks of cold and shorter growing seasons.

The real North of the continent, and most landlocked nations in the middle, were the ones left devastated by the unprecedented mini-ice age that's now creeping in.

Despite all the difficulties of living in this dangerous land, my family territory is quite fruitful. Awfully hot and humid during summer, but fruitful nonetheless.

We have a large and oddly protected coastline. We wouldn't starve even if we had to survive on just seafood alone. Maybe not the shores right outside my villa, which are too rocky and only useful as a port, but we have enough from our local fishing villages. The forests are even more dangerous but rich and plentiful. What farmlands and orchards we do have are productive, even before any of my interventions or improvements.

Never in our short history have we had the need to import any foodstuff.

That's not so much the case for the Doukas' territory.

Almost every territory in the republic has some form of access to the sea, especially in the south. The Doukas family is especially famous for theirs. A mighty coastline surrounds a large majority of their land. With so much much coast, they have some pretty nice beaches. More importantly, the infrastructure based around sea commerce and trade is older and much more developed there.

It's not all good of course. Their salt plains blow flat and dry. It's a harsh environment to grow crops in and defend against invading forces. Any sprouting monsters have a clear path straight to any human settlements, ravaging through their already struggling farmlands.

Their lands were always more vulnerable in regards to their grains and crops. A famine would affect them much more greatly. Technically it already has.

As we have always been on good terms, trade between our territories has been the norm.

We're already physically close enough to each other. Either by land or sea, roads or ships, trade with one another is a convenient thing. Realistically, we do have much closer neighbors in the republic. From one military-based family to another though, our goals, culture, and communication styles just align better.

To be honest, we hardly make any profit selling our crops and produce to the Doukas. From records, it would be just above breaking even. Just barely. Likewise, their exports to our territory are pretty cheap, especially in bulk.

That neighborly discount goes both ways.

It just makes sense to do so much business with them. As an older and more established noble family though, their resources and production capacity outweigh ours. As Grampa's old friend, we know we probably won't be cheated or schemed against. A lot of our industries, goals, and interests align.

The troops are already something larger and more insanely complicated than the usual army. Their business goes a long way to our development and construction.

Also, even if we technically don't need to import, some things are just cheaper and faster to purchase. Salt, metals, even more food? All the raw and processed construction materials they don't necessarily need but we do. Yes! All that and more. It costs a lot of resources to keep our troop running smoothly year-round ok?

According to all I know then, this formal dinner mostly has something to do with those trades.

It's been over a year since my family started minimizing our international presence. As part of the long-term famine preparedness plan, our territory has been withdrawing to self-focus on development, something we've already been lacking.

Such cut-offs are also to avoid some unfortunate issues I saw in the future.

For now, our market stocks have gradually been pulled from the public and private channels. Public output went down as the offerings slowed or halted entirely. Luxury goods have entered, though a bit sporadically. Dungeon spider silk anyone?

Compared to previous years though, it's pretty obvious that our exports have greatly fallen in numbers and varieties. It's most evident in regards to food sales.

Agriculture had been, for years, one of our largest and most stable markets. Even with minimal development, we're rich in crops. It's always been one of the things we're known for.

So it's understandable if people become worried or suspicious. Father has mentioned before that he's already received warnings in his work, requests even. Some things really don't change.

The main question, if I was in the position of Doukas, would be if our supply chains with one another are still stable. Or if it's that good neighbor discount is still on?

It must have been such concerns that now bring Lord Doukas and his sons directly to our dinner table.

I'm sure the ties between us will be maintained relatively the same. As for others…even if it loses us some money, the cut-offs have to be done.

Why? Because I'm selfish!

We have enough problems as it is. There's no need to jump into more of them when avoidance is an option. Prevention is better than cure, at least it can buy us some more time.

It's a long story overflowing with complaints. I don't want to uselessly give myself a headache now. One just needs to remember that the universal law of: 'Anything that can possibly go wrong, will go wrong.'

Ugh, and no it's not just that Grampa's siege-worthy survival bars taste like mummified bird crap. Thank you for the honest reviews, oh fine troops of ours.

Does House Doukas get as many culinary criticisms about their rations or are our forces just too spoiled?

Which reminds me…. as our fellow southern nation, they didn't get nearly as many international issues as we did. Why is that?

Of course, they were personally impacted by the years of famine, but they got by. It was just a very fishie affair. Literally. Fish, fish, and fish. Dried, salted, and all manners of preserved fish. All that free coastline and already developed seafaring industries. A mass market of fish. So much salty fish.

My desk was stacked with reports of their people practically crying sea water and fish sauce from the monotony of it all.

It was all they had in excess and all the food aid they could deliver, and it went through splendidly. Now did the people receiving said food aid praise their generous efforts? No, not really. They too cried in dried fish. But no further issues sprang up.

No populations suddenly stuck with a new plague, or stacking diseases like a multi-combo hit in a rhythm game. No stolen cargo or anything switched with inferior counterfeit goods. No accusations of the most convoluted schemes.

No blame!

As expected of such an old noble lineage. They truly know how to ride the waves of a rough storm.

I'm pretty sure it would all go to waste though if that idiot musclebrain Greg-something ended up taking over as the heir and future Lord. It is a shame then, that I died and missed that trainwreck. It would have been great popcorn munching fun to watch how it all goes crashing down.

But there's a chance he never fulfilled his duty as prospective heir.

After all the original heir was still alive, and right now he's still holding his spot.

Mikhael Doukas. The eldest son of the house and rightful heir, favored by not only his Father but the old Lord Doukas, his grandfather. A man that is older but no less esteemed as a fellow peer in the same batch as my own Grampa, a war hero in all his own right, maybe also a fellow crazy retiree.

So why was a second son like Greg-I don't remember what his name or face, even considered as heir?

Because Mikhael Doukas was just too scandalous! It's like one of my mother's bad romance novels but in real life!

He may be a baby-faced looking nice big brother figure now, but I know the secret truth.

In a few short years, he'll be near throwing everything away just to pursue love! With some common foreigner! Oh ho ho!

This is the whirlwind nonsensical romance that those young maids must be dreaming of. Haha, as if!

Now I have never seen the shocking couple, but gossip of those times painted a wonderfully juicy picture. Not only did she reject him many times, crushing any of his honor and pride as a nobleman, but the demanded courtship was too humiliating for any family to bear.

She was supposedly the reason he stepped down from his rightful inheritance, but some rumors stated that he would otherwise be disowned from the pure shame.

The rumors varied wildly. Some say she had him scrubbing her bathtub, daily, to prove his devotion. Others say that he had to handcraft 1001 unique pieces of jewelry before she even let him touch her hand. All while still leading him on, seducing him with her exotic beauty and 'savage' touch, apparently just the way he liked it. Oh ho hoooo~

What's worse was not the gossip mill but proven facts. The rights of his own property, the most profitable salt mines, and facilities ended up right in her hands before they were even wed!

Oh ho ho, so much scandalous content! OH HO HOOOOOOOO!

"I hear my Rosalia's laughter. Is something amusing going on?" my mother's voice comes from her wardrobe.

"...nothing Mother!" I clamp my hand over my cursed mouth,

Ahem.

I must pat my face a bit. No inappropriate expressions here. Pat pat these cute cheeks back to my usual pout. Before my face turns into Mother's disturbing one or something.

What? Such gossip is perfectly fine when it's not my gross parents. It's refreshing even.

Even with such lovelorn infamy, I think Mikhael Doukas had a good chance of coming back one day to take over. I mean…just look at who the competition was.

I also recall that Gregorius, strong as he was then, never seemed to have gotten over this complex of beating his older brother. At least that was the case till the period when I straight out died, no more information after that. Pfffft.

Well, such talks and other people's dramatic issues are too far off. Dinner, however, will be served shortly, right downstairs.

Oh to finally watch the living scandal live and in person, up close! Oh ho ho!

"Something is going on after all. What else are you doing there laughing all to yourself, hmm? Is your sister still napping off in dreamland?"

The curtains open with a dramatic flourish despite there being no one around to witness. Finally, Mother is deemed done.

The extra time is worth it. Mother is a beauty of her own class, walking in with a terrifying sense of regalness. Her elaborate hair is full of stabby golden pins, resembling a crown no, a heavenly halo, with perfectly framed curls that no one will ever be able to imitate.

It's a lot dressier than usual but after all, we have guests to intimidate.

Her maids line out to prepare the path, ensuring nothing will go wrong. No bumps, snags, or little bits of hair ruining static electricity. A lady's look must be perfect.

"Zzz Huh wha- awake. Ack. I'm awake! Don't leave without Lily!" my sister startles herself up awake.

As a little lady, she looks very imperfect with half her bedhead lopsided and a line of drool still wet on her face. It's uh…it's a very far off way for her to grow up yet. Do excuse her. Because she's still small, it doesn't take long to clean her up and quickly rework the ribbons on her head straight.

There we go, cuteness is back!

"Now my girls shall be the prettiest at the party!" Mother plays with her fixed curls, striking Lilyanne with immense pink-filled joy.

"Yaaaaaaay! Prettiest girl at da party!!!"

It's just a dinner party at our own house. We'll be the only girls.

I keep that comment to myself, as we're late enough as it is.

"Mother, you look very pretty and terrifying, in a good way." I compliment, careful of her dress's luxurious train when I approach to tug at her skirts. "It shall surely strike fear and obedience in the hearts of weak men. I suspect that Father will be rather upset to hear you dressed up so beautifully for another man when he's not around. But no one here will say anything and it's his fault anyways. Let us make haste as not to be any more fashionably late."

*growl~*

Silence awkwardly elongates, making the echoes of a rumbly tummy all the clearer.

….That…That could have come from anyone!?

Lilyanne!? Certainly, it was the uncontrollable child!

Yes, that's right.

See Mother! You took so long that Lilyyane is starving to such a shameful state. Bad Mother!

"Oh there there, Mama is sorry. Don't fret dear. Come now my sweets, let's go down to see your Grampapa first, and then we shall have fine dinner. There there Rosalia, my baby has nothing to be ashamed of. "

Why am I being called out?! It wasn't me I say!

As if to make up for all that dawdling time, my sister and I are quickly lifted up in our mother's arms to briskly ride the whole way. No need to rush or ruin our cute little ribbons by running. If anything does happen though, the maids follow along closely, two of them even holding the trail of my mother's dress. It's a good thing this is a dinner party and not a dancing one, or that would be such a tripping hazard.

Mother is quite serious about entertaining guests when we have them. She always has been. So everything must go off splendidly and dare I say it, so very extra.

Grampa's roaring laughter gets closer and closer, even through the closed halls we pass through. It's a very different sort of charm, lively and always young at heart. If you didn't know any better about all the crazy, it sounds like a good time wherever my Grampa may be laughing and chatting.

Of course, a host must receive guests, as Grampa does well to entertain in a waiting room right by the atrium.

Evening has come but a light blue twilight, still tinged in orange sunlight, colors the large viewing windows. Any minimal light bounces back on all the bright white walls and marble, while the large leafy potted plants give the impression of being outside. It's not all that cold this year, but the underground heating is certainly on at this time, making everything inside a comfortable temperature as if it were already spring.

Slowly, the servants turn up the light of the more convenient magical lamps, but a few oil candles still dot the way, creating a certain ambiance.

It also makes shadows. Big pouting lumps of a shadow in the corner, who isn't very sneaky at all.

Gable sure raised Lukas well, he's built as fluffy as a little snowman. His shadow is very fat. Or maybe that's all the layers he's padded in. It's shock absorbent, which he will very much need when Mother crushes him in her usual hugs, fine dress or not.

That is exactly the scene that happens.

"Oh my. What are you doing here all alone like this?" Mother goes crashing and twirling, spinning around my loudest minion.

Which is the strange part. Where's all the noise?

Lukas continues to pout, not making any effort to fight, free himself, or even a peep of pain in Mother's deadly embrace. Even Mother has to pick up on the oddity mid-snuggle. Eventually, perhaps after running out of oxygen, Lukas sniffs.

He sniffs and sniffles disgustingly, eyes scrunching up puffy. His voice begins to bubble out in wet hiccups, tears unable to be held any longer before the storm starts with a wail.

Ah there we go, there's the screaming.

"Gable left me!!!!" Lukas cries, hurricane siren level noises only growing louder.

Absolutely understandable. Anyone, even myself, shall be a mess of snort and broken-hearted pieces if left by the glorious Gable. Why it would be a tragedy- hey wait.

Gable left?!

Where?! When!? For how long?!! What is the context here? Lukas, do not tell me you have scared off Gable with your Lukasness!

"He left without me!!! Amar is right, again! Adults are all liar liars pants of fire! Bad Gable! Stupid Gable! Bad bad bad, I told you!!!"

Wonderful explanation. I understood nothing.

"Oh, I understand completely. Gable and Papa were always so busy for some reason or another, but they always come back. Eventually, oh men. Now Rosalia, Lilyanne, no being cruel to your Lookiepookie. You have also lost your papa to 'business' and should know better." Mother multitasks, rocking the apparently adopted snowball while reprimanding her own flesh and blood.

While that does get Lilyanne to silence her "teehee" laughing at a miserably crying Lukas, it brings me questions.

When did that brat become our 'Lookiepookie'? When was that even a thing? Who decided this? Was it the same person who made that awful name in the first place?

Grampa! Come out and fix things. Gable has gone!

"And Cap did nothing to stop him! Waaaaahh!!!" Lukas wails, tears and spit raining right down at me.

"Oh there there, your years hurt my heart so. I'm sure Gabgab had a very good reason or many, that's why Papa didn't stop him. It's so hard to trust our darlings but work they must. I know, it's hard and scary but you're not alone! Gable should have left me a message but clearly, you are here with us now! Oh you poor thing, let's get you spruced up for dinner. A bit of something delicious always helps." Mother coaxes, nodding towards the maids.

I wouldn't say it was instantaneous, but it doesn't take long for three of her maids to come running from the stairs. When they left and for how long is a mystery. Their skirts seem to float ghostly over the floor, gliding in their speed.

With them, is a wheeled rack that looks suspiciously familiar. The contents were far too short to dress my Mother. Too many tiny tails and closed onesie feet.

Ah. It's kiddy dress-up time.

"So last minute but with your cuteness, we will make it work! Hmm now, let's see here. Cute but not appropriate. Very cute but too large? Perhaps in a few years… but if we take this piece here, and add it with that. A ribbon, a bigger ribbon, yes it's all coming together! Oh ho ho!"

Have you ever seen a magical girl transformation? Me either.

If you don't mind the hands of half a dozen hard-working overqualified maids surrounding him, this may be the closest we get to see one. With a bit of horror and a lot of childcaring, they quickly get to work on Lukas, who is still upset to do anything back. Towels to his face, his clothes stripped as they spin him around bare butt.

I miss the timing to cover Lilyanne's eyes from the naked magical transformation. They work too fast. Then with Mother in the middle, he rises, outfit finally settled.

"Perfect! " Mother squeals, holding up Lukas in a great display. All her maids take a step back to applaud and compliment the now very pink child.

I don't mean from all his earlier crying or any blushing. He is just covered…in pink.

I see Mother has a preferred color palette. Or maybe she just had too much stuff made when cousin Cosimo was visiting.

It would be too simple to say he is in one of my sailor suits, oh no no no. That's merely the base.

For dinner, a hat would be inappropriate. So his head has been brushed out and sprayed with something to keep it still. He oddly resembles a little pale mushroom cap that way.

A supposed winter edition sailor suit laces him up to the neck. With long puffy sleeves, overlapping details, and frills on every hem imaginable. Tiny blue ribbons decorate the puffy sleeves, with two different ones to bowtie his neck up high. The end of the top layer balloons out to resemble a poofy sweater or a dress. His pants fit well enough but end too early in ribbon-tied breeches, barely past his knees. Tiny tights aside, a pair of silky indoor slippers wrap up his legs, like a little ballerina.

It's cute…so offensively glaring cute.

I try not to judge, but this is my mother's doing we're talking about.

It's…awful. He looks like a fat decorative cupcake crossed with a pink fairy-type pokemon, but it's on Lukas, which makes everything so much worse.

"Gasp!...Lily….Lily wanna be cute like dat too! Mother how could you!?! Waaaah!!! How will Lily be the prettiest girl at the party now!?!" my sister reacts, just in all the wrong ways.

Why oh why is my family like this? Two lives are certainly not enough to figure that out. I can only respond with a facepalm.

"You already are, my sweet!" Mother boops Lilyanne's little nose as she sets Lukas down. No further explanations needed.

Please no. We're late enough as it is. A child-friendly talk on gender is not on the dinner plan.

"...I'm still awesomest." Lukas sniffles.

He is looking extra docile tonight, without or without Mother's pink frilly cupcake makeover. It must be the abandonment.

"Mother is right, Gable shall return and if not, we'll chase after him with fire and pitchforks. So dry your disgusting tears. It is unfit to be a proper intimidating minion of mine." I comfort, or well try to.

What!? We're going into a battle tonight with that horrid tiny version of Greg-something. If my minion is shamefully here in Mother's little doll-worthy clown suit, I better make him a support rather than a liability.

Once again there are three of us, and one of him. We shall walk in with power and presence, while he will cower in unworthiness. Cower!

"COWer!" Lilyanne cheers next to me.

"Okay dokey. Gotta fight the fights in front of me. I'll get sissy to get Gable if Cap isn't gonna. Let's go! ... Rosa, where are we going?" Lukas also perks up, before deflating with a lost face.

With a clap of approval from Mother, our presence is formally announced by the servants, though I am not sure how anyone can miss the commotion that was Lukas. It is still important to make a grand entrance, especially as the hosting lady.

Doorway after doorway opens, the bright glow of decorative lights at full power blasts as does all the noise. The very direct presence of the men, center of it all, my Grampa.

"Ah, there they are!" he gestures to our entrance, turning all eyes towards us.

It's a bit pushing it to say Grampa is properly dressed for the occasion. His collar is too loose, it's scandalous if any ladies were looking. His short hair is never tamed, but I suppose he is freshly shaved. At least his clothes look nice and pressed at the seams.

Just don't mind the silly patterned pelt slung over his thick shoulders. It gives his scandalous collar and far too full chest some modesty.

Semi-formal is good enough for Grampa!

"Papa, you're drinking too much before dinner. You'll spoil yourself." Mother goes to take his arm.

"Nonsense. This much hardly gets the mouth wet. Aww, baby girl, I like all the potential weapons you fit into your hair. Not that you need them tonight, Maria." he pats her with something that resembles grace.

Must be all the fancy lighting.

Her nagging would have been more convincing if Mother didn't take a shiny cocktail out of Grampa's other hand for herself. It takes a lot of willpower to hold back my drool at the sight of such delectable but forbidden drinks. More important things are at hand. Impressions to be made

The adults make their greetings, blah blah blah. All very well and good, there's even cheek kisses, but all not my problem.

I snap my fingers and in a second my sister is huffing herself up, right next to me. I snap them again, and again. Then I just settle for dragging Lukas by his pink puffy sleeve over to my other side.

There. Now we actually make an intimidating bunch.

Now we can rightfully stare down…the enemy.

*Munch munch crunch*

That horrid enemy is apparently too stupid to notice. Rather he's too busy scarfing down the drinking snacks of little crackers and dried anchovies. Occasionally he looks up to my mother and his father in curiosity, pieces of tiny dried fish crumbling at his mouth.

"Not even a hewo! He's just eating all of Grampy's snacks." Lilyanne says to me, low and heated in indignation. As much indignation as a child can feel watching their snack reserves deplete, which is a lot.

"Patience, sister dear. Control. Mind your manners. We'll win this battle easy." I whisper back to her.

"What are we doing?" Lukas finally bothers asking.

"Hold. Hold position and keep holding." I can only order. Hopefully in a way my minion can actually understand, all while purposefully glaring at the offending invader in my house.

Sense and etiquette, my remaining minion may be hopeless in. But battle? Oh that he understands scarily well for his age.

"Holding! Operation beg for food and battle formation together! " Lukas nods, attempting to whisper.

"Beg!" Lilyanne copies.

I'm so glad our target is too stupid to understand how much we fail at being intimidating. But there are bigger fish to fry, as Lukas so eloquently meant.

"Hold. Hoooold it." I seethe the order, waiting for our cue, the perfect timing to initiate the first attack.

The children beside me brace themselves, their bodies humming in anticipation.

"Oh, and of course, the children. My dears, do say your proper hellos to your uncle Constantine." Mother finally takes a step aside.

Now!

"HEWWO!!!" "HI!!!"

"HEWWO!!!" "HI!!!" "I'm Lily!" "I'M LUKAS!"

It looks like Lukas and my sister held it too well, since they're now bursting in overdone greetings. I see arms, cheers, puppy dog eyes, and the brightest of showmanship. It's a bit much there, you guys. This isn't a musical opening.

But they're cute enough to pass, as Lord Doukas laughs and takes their greetings with great approval. Their innocent smiles must have critically struck him in the heart. Now then, my turn to my that final attack.

"It is an honor, Lord Doukas. I, Rosalia Therese Ventrella, humbly thank you on behalf of my family for your continued friendship and grace towards our humble home." I take a half step back and bow at the knee, keeping my form straight and solid, yet informal enough to fit the southern style.

I could do even more than that but let's not overdo it. This isn't a ball. Besides, I'm already getting more looks of fear and apprehension than anything.

At least, Mother looks on proudly at my display of superior manners.

"Oh ho ho~ My household's children are so precious but Rosa dear takes after her darling Father!" Mother can't help but fangirl on anything connected to Father.

"...I've noticed… so much like Frederick indeed…Ahem! What a wonderful greeting, such polite and well-raised children! What's your secret Maria? Yes yes, no need for formalities between our families. The children should all call me uncle Constantine! " he makes a quick save, shaking off the fear.

"It's all thanks to my darling Frederick! Oh darling, how could you leave me even for a moment? There is no greater suffering than your absence, bitter is my longing for you. Constantine, how happy he would have been to be your host tonight. Oh my, forgive me. How could I mention love lost so absently, it is a pity your lovely wife could not join us." Mother replies.

"-Before I forget, boys! Give your greetings to the Lady and your peers. And the gifts!" he coughs, trying to recover.

Understandable. Not everyone is as dog food vomit-inducing as my Mother and Father.

At uncle Constantine's cue, the elder brother, who had already done his greetings, guides his much younger and dumber brother. It takes a push to get Greg-something up off his butt. Perhaps a few pinches to force Greg to properly face us. Even when he does so, snack crumbs already dirty his face. It isn't cute at all!

There is no comparison. We've already won the first battle by a landslide. What adults don't love cute and polite children? Oh ho ho!

"Ahem, it isn't much but please accept some of these gifts. There's a few, especially for the children." Mikhael helps to smoothen things out, indicating to the pile of presents.

I mean it was already there but now we're formally addressing it. Gimmie. I see packages of sweets.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Mother accepts on our behalf.

"Oh, but we must! They're just some small things and treats, you must not refuse." Lord Doukas insists, probably sweating under his skin.

I'd translate it but there isn't much more than what's on the surface. The Doukas are as Southern as they get, simple people with honor engraved into their bones. It's more of a 'please forgive my stupid son for assaulting and farting on your daughter' type of peace offering, an olive branch.

There shall be no forgiveness on my part, but I won't fault Lord Doukas for trying. Besides, presents always work to salve a wound.

"A rocky horsie! Thank you, uncle! But papa already gave me a rocky horsie, and he gave Rosa a real horsie!" my sister walked over to inspect the carved toy. An admittedly fine rocking horse, shame it was already seen and done with.

It prompts some awkward coughing on Lord Doukas's part until Mother steps in to save him, laughter in her tone.

"Then it shall be a dear friend for your papa's lovingly gifted rocking horse. Everyone can use a friend and companion…oh darling….how I miss you so. Even the toy horses have a pair, why are you so far away?" no more laughter when the topic once again changes to Father.

Sheesh, get a life Mother.

"How wonderful. To be riding with your own horse this early. What a great bond to have. My first one was named Hippo. What's yours?" young Mikhael comments, trying to get into my good graces.

Oh ho ho, how obvious. I shall play along, for politeness sake's.

Not because I finally have a worthy subject to unload all my love for my babies on. Usually, Abbey hardly knows what I'm talking about, while Amar is willing to listen but is too brain-damaged to process and I think Georgie is always too preoccupied with nagging me about the next thing.

I was midway describing the gentle nature of my Adorita, and how she is just vastly superior to most creatures, man or horse, when the dinner bell rang.

Like the happiest of alarms, a clock in class ticking that it's finally time to eat, Alfonso arrives. The doorway opens to our family butler, standing pressed and perfect in the center, to formally invite us to the dining hall.

"Oh goodie. It was brief but it was a lovely chat." I lightly curtsy to Mikhael.

Politely, he bows back gracefully with a kind smile. It's a little good-looking.

I like him already! This is what a gentleman should be like!

"Rosa." my sister tries snapping her fingers for me.

She hasn't quite got it but I'll allow this much. Lukas is also here, but a young lady shouldn't be left so unattended to.

"Whoa, Rosa talked more than me," Lukas says.

"It's da horsies. Just wait, Papa is gonna fill her up her stable. Then it will be more blah blah horsie babies." Lilyanne shakes her head childishly in response.

"No fair. I only get a stable of chickens! They peck." Lukas complains.

Hey, wait, what is that all supposed to mean?

The adults all usher us down to the dining room before I can get my hands on either of them and then it's a performance of our best manners.

Alfonso leads the way, ever the gracious butler. Lord Doukas has offered his arm to my mother, which she naturally takes. While Grampa is supposed to be the leading host, he's sociable, kinda charming, and crazy enough to get away with breaking any rules he likes. He chatters to everyone, addressing all of us at least once, even Greg-something.

More significantly, even over his socializing, his hand casually wraps around Lukas's shoulder in a comforting manner, pushing the pink pouting boy along.

Looks like Lukas is still upset, and it's not being shaken off like usual.

I'll have to check in on my moody minion at a later time. When the double doors to the dining room open, the lights inside nearly blind us all.

Blazing, the chandeliers have been fully lit. Nothing screams "I married a Bicchieri" more than the dazzling display of lights and rainbow refractions that hang overcast.

It steals all attention in the room, beyond its original purpose of lighting up the place. When you can force your eyes away, wonders upon horrible wonders await for you to behold.

The dining table takes place center, a semicircular thing meant for a show. Something to last, with how thick and sturdy it is, and very out of place. It looks as if it were pulled from a shipwreck and polished just enough that splinters wouldn't give you tetanus. On it, a rich cloth runner divides and decorates the table. They hold all the little lights, bobbles, and things that make it as much a feast for the eyes as the physical one waiting for us.

There are no single chairs but couches that line up, plush in deep green velvet to resemble flowing seaweed. I'm sure they can even recline, should Grampa feel like it, especially after dinner.

A giant aquarium stands in the background. Its presence plunges the lower half of the hall entirely in blue, blue as the tropical seas, warm and colorful in corals and little marine life. A large shimming parrot fish swims back and forth, occasionally scaring a school of little fish or a bunch of fat clawing langostinos and smaller shrimps.

Sitting beside such a tank, with the glittering lights above, you would think you were swimming in the shallows of an exotic sea in summer, rather some crazy family's dining room.

Damn rich people!?! Was this really necessary?

Besides the thought of money bleeding out my future coffers, I don't hate it. If it was someone else's money wasted, I would be quite impressed. Oooh and awing in delight… but it is my money! Papa come back! Grandpa and Mother are wasting all our funds on stupid shiny things again!

No wonder my sister and I were so spoiled and ignorant of the world in the past. What could have been expected when we were one of them?

"Haha, alright now everyone. Take your seats. Dinner isn't going to serve itself by hopping into your open mouths." Grampa claps, drawing everyone's attention where they had been gaping.

At least it's a very pretty power move. Though I instinctively I sigh as I hold on to my sister, preventing her from running to plaster her face on the aquarium, screaming "fishies fishies fishies!"

"Isn't it amazing, Gregorios?" I can hear Mikhael speak softly to his younger brother, also pushing him along to his seat.

"...But we see fish and water all the time? You just jump into the ocean." Greg questions quite dumbly.

"...Yes, but it's very different to get it on land. Inside." Mikhael explains patiently, sounding far too used to this.

"Every time I go into the kitchen with fish and water in my pants, everyone always yells at me. This doesn't sound very fair." Greg responds in a way only a child can.

"That's…very different. No one is dragging in seawater here. Now let's follow Father and take our seats, come on, you're hungry aren't you? "

The seating arrangements are pretty simple, but there is an order.

Grampa, of course, must take the center seat. Right dab in the middle. From there, the guest of honor sits on his right. Mother, the lady of the house, and just as his daughter, shall be seated on his left. Us less important children could intermingle, but clearly, the lines have been drawn.

Three sets of plates, cutlery, and drinking cups have been set on the left after Mother's seat. So that's where we shall go.

Perhaps because Lukas is in a rather down mood, Mother pats for him to take the seat next to her. This isn't all that formal of a dinner, so it should be alright.

Lilyanne gasps for a moment, a low whisper of "homewrecker" on her lips, but accepts it with my comfort. Instead, I lead her to take our seats on the tall and cushioned couch, with me in the center and her on the edge. That way she has plenty to room to watch and reach for cheese without bothering anyone.

Next to Uncle Constantine are, of course, his sons. Mikhael sits next to him, as is his place as the eldest son. Which means, unfortunately, across from Lilyanne and me, is the younger son, Greg. Ew.

It's a two, three if you count Lukas, against one glaring match across the dining table.

"Rosa, he's giving us stinky eyes. How rude!" my sister whispers with an exaggerated pout.

"Hold position. Do not back down." I say back to Lilyanne, still focused on glaring.

"Does he need to fart again? It smelled super bad last time." Lukas leans over to say to us.

It is sadly not quiet enough to keep to our side of the table. Can't be helped with Lukas.

However, the equally glaring pinhead across the table grows red, perhaps from shame and embarrassment at the mention of our first and only encounter. That brutal assault on my part but obviously, Greg didn't properly learn his lesson.

"I don't get it!" he shouts, pointing a finger at Lukas as he turns to his brother and father.

"Gregorios…" Mikhael starts to sweat, looking back and forth between us kids and the adults, caught in the middle.

"No, I really don't get it! Who is he and why is here sitting here?! You told me again and again with all those boring lessons about the twins and why I gotta be nice to them. But not anything about him?" Greg keeps up the offensive finger.

Oh my, I see he didn't learn any manner either.

One does not question the guest of a host so directly. Instead, you should wait for a more appropriate time to pull someone aside or perhaps make a desperate bid to introduce yourself. This is not only a very rude gesture but it shows one's ignorance. Better to let people suspect you are a fool than to prove it.

Nice going Lukas, that's another point for us by default.

"Gregorios." his Father states, eerily low. A warning.

"But-" the child continues to dig himself in a deeper hole by talking back.

"Gregorios, did you not make proper introductions just a bit earlier? Sit down and apologize to everyone this instant."

It's a good thing he's just a young child or the offense would be far greater.

How awkward. How awful. Absolutely shameful!

Why, I even feel a bit bad for uncle Constantine for having such a ruin of a son, especially when my own Mother does that look. The look of other parents judging someone else's kid, ahahahaha!

However, this really isn't a very pleasant start to a dinner party. Pleasant to petty little me, but I'm not the one who dragged an aquarium here or tied up all these decorations. Let's not ruin it too harshly now.

"Ahem. …It must be my fault. Somehow or another..." Grampa interrupts, forcing everyone's attention when he speaks.

Even Mother must calm down, or at least, hold her temper for the time being.

"I beg pardon. Of course, the fault is mine, it is after all for me to teach and discipline. Something I regrettably have seen now, how I failed to do time and time again before you." Lord Doukas shakes his head apologetically.

"Children aren't easy soldiers to train, you don't have it easy either. Some fault is on me….for not properly introducing LOOKIEPOOKIEWOOKIE!"

He had us going for a bit. He really did, sounding so formal and serious. It's all ruined with a party popper effect as Grampa gestures over to Lukas. Like clockwork, Mother picks up Lukas by his armpits, and hands him right over to Grampa to hold up in display like a grand prize. The table decor lights up in a party rave blues and rainbows contrasts.

"Observe the wonderfully adorable expressions and fair features that look NOTHING like me! He took all the good genes, Isn't he wonderful?!" Grampa declares.

"Yes! Absolutely! Such smooth straight locks. Such a shade of winter blond it would be impossible to replicate no matter how many beauty products. From that proud top of his head to the tip of that regal nose. It couldn't be a better match. If I wasn't already a mother that had to be a good example to my girls, I would cry in jealousy." Mother applauds in support.

"There is no Troops founding mage of renown hiding in hermitdom around here-"

"Oh absolutely, Gabgab is very much not here. "

"But if he was-"

"Which he isn't -"

"Enough! I understand, we saw nothing, we know nothing, and we are immensely sorry." Lord Doukas begs for mercy.

He will have to beg harder, especially with the way Grampa is just pridefully shoving Lukas into his face.

"Hello! I'm awesome and I don't have to fart right now." Lukas greets innocently.

A waste of Gable's good looks trickled down.

But I suppose Lukas needs it to compensate for the stupid stuff that comes out of his mouth sometimes. In comparison, there is a very uncute brat across the table who still hasn't apologized. We must look like absolute angels next to that.

"Boys will be boys, you're all so young and spirited. Now reintroduce yourselves and make up!" Grampa dangles Lukas over the edge of the table, skipping right over to where little Greg sits. Right up there, Lukas is at perfect face kicking height.

Sadly, Lukas is too nice to do that. It's probably for the best, especially since Grampa is trying so actively to patch things up. Besides, we don't actually want to offend the Doukas family.

" …Ookiepookie woo? What kind of name is that?" the shaved pinhead looks up, asking.

"An awesome ones. I also listen to Awesome, Super Awesome, Potatoes, POOtatoes, Puppywuppy duppy, next best HERO, Eater of all bacons, and some more names I forgot but just Lukas is fine. Do you gotta go potty? I can show you!"

"I don't gotta- hey wait I'm the next best hero! And what kind of potatoes?"

"Cap! Sissy! Imma go show farty face the potty!"

"You're the farty face! I'm Gregorios …but just Greg is fine. "

Boys really are strange creatures. As soon as my Grampa sets Lukas down, the two bickering boys are suddenly running off as bathroom buddies. A snap from my mother has two man servants follow after them, for everyone's peace of mind.

Even with my Grampa's social save, Lord Doukas apologizes again, clearly mortified. It's something that Mother can't help taunting.

"Oh my. I know we weren't the neatest children either, but Constantine, I don't ever recall you being much like your youngest. A good thing too." Mother comments, holding her hand up to her mouth in place of a fan.

"...Yes Maria, I would hope that I wasn't…" he can only bite down the shame.

"Of course, every child is their own person, very different. Perhaps your child resembles another parent? But your eldest, Mikhael dear! You remind me so much of both your grandparents! How are they doing, dear? "

Oh my, so many back-to-back blows. Mother is on a vicious attack. She somehow insulted his wife, one-upping Lady Doukas without her even being here! Then she got away with it by bringing up the last generation in polite social convention, questioning his power and credibility.

Father would be proud.

"Right, that reminds me! That old man was the one looking after you all those busy years your parents were in their battle prime. Now that's not a bad thing at all, your Grandfather and I go way back! But Constantine, you gotta take more of a lead with them both. Can't leave one out! " Grandpa pats at the remaining Doukas men, acting all buddy buddy.

Ack! Even Grampa is getting into this verbal battle? Uncle Constantine has no chance.

That's right, it's no secret that the eldest son and heir, Mikhael, was raised primarily by his grandparents. The main reason being…his parents gave birth to him a tad too young.

A few more years would be ideal but this was practically a shotgun wedding! Ahem, of course, this is some inner circle info. The facts remain that during the time his parents rose to fame and prominence on the battlefield, they couldn't be dragging around a baby.

Huh? Maybe that's why the two brothers are so different.

To be dragging up old shames like this. It's like striking a scar and then pouring in stinging alcohol.

Right, we're going to need more alcohol at this table.

It is sadly not drinks placed in front of my eyes but I can't be upset at food arriving. The servants bring out a medley of little things for our first course. Good timing too, before Lukas gets back to suck everything up with that monstrous appetite of his.

"Cheese?" my sister interrupts my thoughts, peacefully ignorant of all the drama.

"Not yet Lily. Appetizers first. Then we have at least three more courses to go." I say.

"...We can have cheese with antipasti." she pouts, crossing her arms.

"Maybe so, but not today it looks like"

Our table soon turns into pirate loot. Various bowls and containers filled with different things start to clink down.

Local olives take center, honestly resembling an olive bar. There's more here than I can reasonably identify, but we can't have the Doukas over without showcasing some olives. Sliced cured meats spin out into flowers and roses, leftover from the winter stock, but the flavor and quality are nothing to scoff at. Since it's wintertime, my household's official selection of pickles is laid out like a treasure chest of rainbow gems. The refreshing tang and unique crunch of each will only stimulate your appetite even more throughout the night.

These cold things may be common to us, but it was expensive delicacies in my memories of another world! I can't waste them!

Fillets of small fried fish seem to sizzle in front of us but don't emancipate any heat at all. They seem as if alive, ready to hop off the serving plate. Yet they have the aroma of something fried. contrasting with the fresh sight of the garnishes. I see pears, fennel, and artichokes making bouquets around the dish.

If my manners weren't so good, or my arms weren't so short, I would have already reached for some.

An even more colorful salad of octopus and potatoes, bordered with fresh yellow slices of lemon, lands between Mother's seat and mine, right where Lukas sat. I can't stop my eyes from widening, nor my throat from making an awful whimpering sound.

Luckily, my Mother still knows know to be a decent parent and scoops some of it over on my plate.

My octopus! It's been so long! So tender yet fresh, with only a bit of parsley-like herbs, salt, pepper, and of course, the finest of olive oil make this a match in heaven. The simplicity is perfection in my mouth, finally scratching the roaring hunger of my growling tummy.

I just need some bread.

Fresh bread baskets sit at every corner, something that's easy to reach, even for children. Before they were even placed down, a pair of servants showcases the whole loaves. They cut them with a satisfying sawing crunch right before us. Warm and yeasty, solidly biting on the outside but so much fluff and yielding on the inside.

It's a struggle not to just eat it all up and get full on just that. There are so many little jars of sauces and condiments, a wonderful selection for guests to pick and choose from. It would be a feast of bread alone. There is no better carrier to taste olive oil on, either with your choice of a bit of vinegar, salt, a paste, or something more. All too good.

"Lilyanne my dear, have a little something more than just bread, oil, and pickles. Easy on the bread. Oh, you're just the oddest mix of your Father and me when we were small. Rosalia my darling, slow down a bit, careful when you chew. Mommy will move the easy yummies for my girls. "

We whimper again when Lily is denied another piece of bread, her third I think, while I only get another most pitiful spoonful of my octopus salad when a broken-up piece of the fish lands on each of our plates. Delicate white flesh burst out of that glistening skin, carefully searched and free from all bones.

"Mother does still love us." I take a taste, delighting in the soft almost buttery way the fish flakes in my mouth, mixing and elevating with the sauce it's served with.

"Love!" Lily cries out, happily not burning her mouth on the childsafe morsels,

"You started eating without me!!!" Lukas runs back into the room.

His new bathroom buddy was panting right behind him as if he had lost the race. The careful servants calmly close back up the doors when they entered.

"Oh no rush, we just started." Mother giggles as Lukas rush to wiggle up to his seat.

The bread and cold cuts seem to disappear even faster when Lukas rejoins the table but there's plenty more where that came from.

The adults converse among themselves. Sometimes they drag the eldest, Mikhael, into their talks. Training, how he likes his travels, what are his plans now, blah blah, it's really college student stuff. Nothing too important to take my focus off my meal for.

"Ah, make way. Make room. I had this specially made for our guests." Grandpa winks, waving the servants in with the next course.

The first hot dish of the night.

It takes six strong men to carry in what looks to be a giant upside-down bucket. Don't be fooled or let down, if there's anything Grampa is good at, it's a surprising show. The upsidedown bucket makes its way to our guest's side of the table, right up to where Greg sits. The kid looking on with equal parts confusion and excited curiosity.

"It smells so good, like pastitsio! That's my favorite." Greg declares.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's draw up the bridge." Grampa laughs.

As he does so, he has the servants hand both Greg and Lilyanne a tiny flag each. It does absolutely nothing of course, but when they raise and wave the flags up at the same time, the bucket dome lifts open.

An explosion happens. Not quite literally, there is no real force to blow us away, but the aroma in a deadly delicious bomb. The heat and steam fog our vision but it can't hide the wonders below.

"Cheese!!!"

"It is pastitsio!!!"

The flagbearers at the end of the table scream the loudest at the reveal, and for good reason.

A castle? It's a big toy castle made entirely of baked pasta?!!

That looks big enough to feed the troops?! How is it holding up? Layers of tube pasta, bloody red, peeks of cheesy white, an aromatic meat-filled ragu, and milky bechamel sauce. Oh my!

Whoever said one shouldn't play with their food has clearly never met my Grampa.

"Now, take up your weapons and prepare for attack!" Grampa leads, creating a mad frenzy with the children.

"I want the awesomest part!" Lukas drools.

"Armory! Tower! Second tower! The field!!" Greg can't seem to make up his mind, maybe he just wants it all.

"Lily wants the cheesiest part….dungeons. " my sister nods, oddly sure of her choice.

The kids take it the most serious but, the adults 'attack' first. Lord Doukas receives the honor of carving the first piece. How fun, even more so than just being served individual portions.

"And which part does my Pumpkinwumpkin Rosa-girl want to claim in this raid?" Grampa turns to me with crazy eyes, holding a carving knife that eerily resembles a bloody sword.

Right…all innocent fun.

"Is there a treasury?" I awkwardly play along.

This is not a very accurately built castle of pasta, for my treasury looks exactly the same as Lilyanne's oozing dungeon.

It's very delicious though, so that's all that matters. All warm and gooey, baked to a comforting and very fulfilling dish. A creamy top melts down, yet the central meat sauce with a hint of tartness gives the whole piece such substance. The tubes of pasta give it that bounce as you chew. With bits of fresh feta cheese that should be too rich but it doesn't get tiring at all.

Not bad for Greg-something's favorite. Grampa must have done his research well on the Doukas. That or he's just crazy.

"How about the winery?" I ask, looking up for more loot.

Mother's look is even scarier than Grampa with a sauced-up carving knife, so that's the end of that. Booo.

There's still a great majority of the pastitsio castle remaining untouched when the next course comes. It was greatly enjoyed by everyone, especially our guests of course. Make they'll carve it out and pack it in a take-out box?

"Secondi!" Lilyanne cheers, waving her little fork.

"Is it bacon?" Lukas turns, face still smothered in the sauce from the last dish.

"...No Lukas, it's not bacon. Yes Lily, time for the secondi, now sit back down." I sigh, stuck in between them and this family.

There is no shame or sense in this household. None at all.

The food couldn't just arrive normally. Dancers in various flowing costumes and streamers make this a show. The chandelier lights dim and turn ocean-deep blue for them. Their spirited performance can only end when a screen bursts open from the blue walls.

Screams ring out across the hall! It's…it's a goat!

More precisely a whole roasted goat, there's even a whole orange in its mouth.

Worse still, they weren't content with the perfectly fine and grand enough meat dish. No, they desecrated its death by attaching a large braised fish tail to the bottom half of it. We're being served a mock Capricorn.

I hide my facepalm in a clean napkin, even as the rest of the diners ooooh, awww, and applaud. Why, Grampa even makes a speech over it, before handing the megaphone to the chef in charge. It's just a round of proud speeches before they carve up that thing.

I will admit that if photos were a thing, I'd want to take one as proof of the ridiculousness my family puts me through.

Here we are, toasting over Frankenstein monstrosities of dinner. To the Mer-goat!

"This bacon isn't half bad." Lukas enjoys himself, chowing down on the portion Grampa slapped down for us.

"There's no bacon in this? Oh just eat." I focus on my own plate.

Citrus glazes over the meat, making it sweet and rather refreshing. A crispy skin roasted to perfection, holding the steaming melt off the bone flesh. When it gets too heavy, the candied oranges it's served with make you feel ready to eat more. As for the tail portion, it doesn't lose out against the stronger heartier goat meat all that much. It must be a dense fleshed fish, much like a Mahi Mahi, the kind that cuts beautifully into steaks.

It's a freak combo of land and sea that still works, glued together by olive oil. herbs, and fresh citrus elements. Though visually it is a complicated mess, the flavors are classic and simple. Something that just can't go wrong.

We're all still chewing when the next course rains down on us.

The sensation and sight of little leafy herbs falling down right on top of our heads make everyone look upwards.

There in the ceiling, perhaps in the most improper use of our family's secret guards ever, rows a suspended wooden fishing boat. The acrobats up there play out the scene as if they were humble fishermen. Only from their poles and hooks, do they lower down not little lures and bait but whole dishes of food.

"Controni! Lily sees cabbage and carrots and more cabbage, and cabbage salad. .." Lilyanne points out, counting the vegetable based side dishes being lowered down like it was a bad Cirque du Soleil performance.

"These honey smoked carrots, oh they remind me so much of darling." Mother nearly cries into a side dish.

It is admittedly, very red. Sweet and tasty though.

"What a wonderful salad! Such fine produce, this land is truly blessed." Lord Doukas praises, heaping a ton of the dark leafy greens mixed with his dish.

With his comment, a whole extra plate of it gets lowered down from the 'fishing boat' in the chandeliers. I wondered if they're being paid enough for this. I wonder how we can ever afford any of this. Then I just go right back to happily eating.

Ah, the taste of money is just so sweet.

You would think we should be stuffed at this point, but there's just always room for another bite. The problem is that it keeps going, and we're too powerless to say no!

At least there's plenty of time on this mega course meal to eat, rest and eat some more. Live musicians play softly, maintaining a lively ambiance even if the conversations fall between bites. Lilyanne and I even had to take a walk around the room with how full our stomachs were getting.

I stayed behind more often to control Lukas. Or well, to explain to him what each dish, side dish, or little condiment was. Otherwise, he'd eat everything all at once and turn it into a homogenous sludge in his mouth.

That is not how we do dining!

It's also to keep him from getting too friendly with the new kid. It can't be helped when Lukas easily makes friends with anything that even slightly moves.

My sister did have a bit of a problem finding her way back to her seat. She seemed too busy winning over hearts with her cuteness, but she made up for it by walking straight underneath the table, silently attacking Greg from down there, and popping herself back up next to me.

I'm so touched, at least my sister hasn't betrayed me. Yet.

Let's keep it that way.

Finally, it comes to the time that Lilyanne has long been waiting for. The lights brighten up yellow and white, sparkling back to their true brilliance. The fishing boat in the ceiling is gone but a new show takes place.

"Lilywilly my billymilkgoat gruff, what's that!?" Grampa gasps in an exaggerated manner, pulling out a simple telescope to look behind us, through the aquarium, and to the backdoor.

Lilyanne falls for it easily, rushing to take a peek at what he sees, much to everyone's laughter.

Silly girl, it's obviously time for the cheese and fruit. What else could it be?

"It's treasure! A treasure chest!" Lilyanne screams, face pressed too tight on that telescope that it leaves a mark around her eye.

Wait. What.

"Treasure? Where!" I clamor, nearly pushing my sister over.

More laughter rings out. This could be a trap, but there really is a treasure chest?

"Grampa, did you put it in the water?!" I yell at him.

"Oh Papa, you tease." Mother giggles as if amused.

Her hands however are not, for they clamp down very tight on my sister and me.

The message is very clear, there will be no swimming or diving for treasure tonight. Grampa shrugs and makes to go fish it up himself, but a low laughing warning from Mother has him sitting right back down. It's dry land for everyone.

We've been docked.

That's alright because our butler Alfonso shall always save the day.

Even if that requires him showing up in the middle of dinner in a puffy seal spotted wet suit with a harpoon net.

"That's so cool!" Lukas sparkles at the sight.

"Get da treasure! Pwease." my sister taps at the glass repeatedly.

"I am so sorry, Alfonso…" I clasp my hands as if in prayer.

Our dear old overworked butler, we certainly don't deserve you.

In he goes, flippers first. I watch on with a tense breath until he floats around past the decorative marine life to reach the treasure chest. I pray for his safety and smoothness at this crazy work, but my prayers have the opposite effect.

Out from the decorative sand, a hermit crab the size of a large dog pops out, ready to defend the chest. This may be what Alfonso brought the harpoon for.

For once, I am glad my Mother's strong grip is holding us safe from Grampa's crazy ideas.

At least the musician play appropriate battle music for the exciting fight that ensues. The victor is, of course, our Alfonso. Victorious, Alfonso is the hero of our days and nights, especially this night. With the aid of a few servants, the chest is dragged out of the water and placed soaking wet on the table to great applause and cheers.

Then that hard-won treasure chest opens to contain….cheese and fruit.

We've been had.

"Yaaaaaay! Cheesies! Alfonso, you're de best!" Lilyanne goes to happily hug our butler, wet suit and all.

Was there a point to this evening? I'm sure there was. Famine and family trade deals right? But it's all been lost in a food coma, crazy dinner, and theater show!

Another bottle of wine pops open, a dessert one I'm sure. Something I sorely need to deal with this night, let alone this life.

"I guess that means it's time for dessert?" Mikhael asked good-naturedly, accepting a small glass of that final wine.

Wine that I can't have.

"Hold. Hold it, Rosa!" Lilyanne mocks me from earlier this evening, placing a bit of cheese in my mouth.

"Hold and retreat!" Lukas flanks my other side and cheek, stuffing in a sticky fig.

"Dessert it is, but first you will have to find and pick it," Grampa says vaguely, getting out of his seat.

What…what is that supposed to mean now?

Grampa no! Grampa, can't we just have a normal meal? Grampa, I'm too tired for this. Grampa!!!

"Well, I suppose a walk before something sweet would be good for digestion," Mother says, allowing her own crazy father to pull her seat and escort her towards the closest garden.

"It is always a treat, to see what the Lord Commander has in store for us. But do we get any hints? " Lord Doukas gets up holding his young son's hand as they get ready to follow along with this overgrown game.

"What are we doing? Where are we going?" Lukas runs along, already sticking to my Mother and Grampa.

"Lily too! Wait for the Lily." my sister lags, trying to bring the whole chest of cheese along with her.

It does not go well, as expected.

"Shhhh." goes her new savior.

Mikhael, proving to be the most considerate of gentlemen, quickly grabs an empty glass on the table. The cup holds cheese and snacks much better than my little sister's grubby hands and without leaving a mess on her dress.

Delighted, Lilyanne squeals and takes her cheese cup with a clumsy but cute bow.

"Thank you!" she smiles brightly, a glimpse of her future beauty shines at that moment.

Oh, the dangers of anyone who hands my sister some cheese.

"Now, young ladies, shall we follow after and find our families?" he offers with a hand facing my direction. An offer for an escort.

How hilarious that image would be given our height difference.

"... We can very much walk on our own but I suppose you may be our honorary babysitter for the night. Come on Lily." I hop down.

"New babysitter. " Lilyanne talks with her mouth full, very much back to being her messy self.

"It would be my honor." Mikhael gracefully allows us to lead the way.

On our way out to the gardens, I look back to check on him, and at the grand decorations, my Grampa and Mother must have spent far too long on. When the servants slowly begin to trickle in for the clean-up, I laugh at the thought of how much longer it would take to undo it all.

Perhaps it was the wine, too much of it, but Mikhael had stopped and stalled. I could only see his back but his countenance was stiff, and his neck was a shrimp-worthy pink.

I try to get a look at what had him so dazed, but from my height, all I can see is that giant ruined pasta castle.

Ah boys, always thinking with their stomachs.

"We can get you a take-out box later. No worries." I tell him.

"Take out!" my sister raises her cheese glass, happy as a clam.

"Huh? …Oh! Apologies young misses." Mikhael turns around with a slight stutter, face even as pink as his neck.

"You poor thing. My Mother says no wine before a certain age and for good reason. You clearly had too much." I tut and look around, ready to wave down a servant.

It was much easier when I had my Georgie by my side to just hand me things.

"Hiiiii Abbey! Hi, Amar's homewrecker! Would you like cheesies? Da bread is also very yummy. Gasp! Have you seen my homewrecker? He would like da bread." Lilyanne runs off, apparently seeing more familiar faces beyond the usual servants.

True to Lilyanne's account, there they are already getting ready with the rest of the clean-up crew. I expect it would take all hands on deck tonight.

My little maid half jumps and half cowers behind the much taller scary one from the sudden shout of her name. When Cass turns her dark gaze over my sister to me, a sobering cold chill descends on us all…and I'm not even drunk!

"Ok Lilyanne, let's not bother everyone too much from their work. Good evening Cass. Abbey, it's just us. Oh right, is there anything we can get that sobers a young drinker, fast?" I approach.

"..." Cass stares down disapprovingly and I am quick to correct any possible misunderstandings.

"For him of course. My Mother would never let me drink, not even a sip." I explain with a bit of regret.

Tsk tsk, when I was his age, I certainly could do better.

Mikhael makes a strange peep of a sound behind me, a cross between a hiss of air and a hiccup. Maybe I shouldn't have thrown him and his reputation under so fast like that. I've made him sound like a drunk.

"P-perhaps some more wat-ter? T-that's always good?" Abbey offers.

"The best way, to not be inebriated, is to know one's limits and not drink beyond that in the first place. Keep that in mind children." Cass says plainly.

Though her tone and look are harsh, in a very Amar-like fashion, she smoothly pulls out two black pills from a small embroidered pouch. Where she got that from and when her hand even moved, is also a mystery.

"Take with plenty of water. As advised." she places the pills in my hand.

"Ok, thank you very much Cass, …this won't poison my family's guest right?"

The glare she gives is scary enough to have me running as I hastily apologize. I only return to take my sister's hand before she goes off on a wild Yuna search using bread as bait.

When I give the medication to Mikael, he shyly took them like a very good sport and thankfully wasn't poisoned to death. How wonderful.

"There was no need. I apologize again for all the trouble….give my thanks…Anyways let's get you two back to your mother." his pink face still glowed, even in the cool breeze outside.

"It's no problem. Don't push yourself to be so grown up, you're still a child after all." I try to comfort him.

Mikhael only coughs to that, turning red once again. Oh, the shame and embarrassment he must feel. There there, we all grow up eventually.

"Dat easy! We can find our family easily. Just follow the loudest voices." Lilyanne takes the lead, pulling us along.

The night sky is a lot simpler than the spectacle of today's dinner party, but no less pretty on this crisp and clear evening. Spring flowers aren't quite here but the blooms of something colorful hang heavy in the distance where we catch sight of our parents and one wild Grampa.

Loud and clear, carried by the breeze, we can hear that loud piercing sound Lukas makes when he eats something particularly delicious. The loudest it's been all night.

Admittedly, it's been fun so far. Let's see what else is in store for us!