It was a droll, dank and utterly miserable day. The sky was shrouded with bruised and blackened clouds that threatened to spill over the rain-starved ground. Yet, to the disappointment of many, nothing at all gave way, not a single drop or drizzle found its way to the earth, nor could the sun, with its warming rays, penetrate the dense overcast. Rather all lay suspended in a dull state of depression, the air hung heavy with moisture and heat which caused the light condensation from the gathering clouds to thicken the atmosphere trapping the vapors in its mingling stillness. The crumpled shadows that during the day stayed hidden, stretched out lazily along the cobblestone streets that made up Winter Heaven matching the lethargy of the mountain town. Street markets and busy boutiques were practically abandoned—which was contrary to their usual over crowded mob of costumers—while the barren streets were left open to the lowly pests that lurked in the underground.
As it would be assumed, the miserable mood that plagued the usually bustling town of Winter Heaven had driven the inhabitants into their homes—for those who had homes to be driven to anyways—and though most were shielded from the odd conditions physically, a roof was simply not enough to ward off the emotional depression such weather brings. Even the nobility with all of their wealth and highly sophisticated parties were effected and inevitably resorted to drinking mass quantities of alcohol coupled with a slew of modern upbeat concertos as a way to liven up the mood. However consuming so much drink wasn’t very healthy and did not at all seem to aid much in that in only served to suppress the depression for as long as the alcohol lasted, which wasn’t long at all. As was all too true for Sir Gregory Dace IV as the strength of his alcohol just was not sufficient enough to defuse the unspeakable pain he was experiencing. Sir Dace was at the end of his wits as the urge to drive his head straight through several planks of wood was becoming increasingly harder to resist rather than having to sit and teach such an uncooperative and undeserving student such as the one he presently had.
The pupil he was so pointedly trying to groom sat across the room slumped over in his seat with the side of his face resting on the surface of the table arms splayed out in such an un-gentleman like manner. Sir Dace IV grinded his teeth out of annoyance, “The nerve of such youths theses days.” he muttered sourly to himself through clenched teeth as he took his time, slowly making his way towards his pupil in the hopes that the pace would allow him to gain enough self-control as to not strike the student he was so graciously being paid to tutor. “Sit up this instant, fine young gentlemen do not slouch over tables in such a manner.” he boomed authoritatively, striking the smooth surface of the wood in front of the boy’s face with a lash to emphasize his point. A satisfied smirk crept across Sir Dace’s features as the body in the seat began to shift, moving as if to straighten out as instructed. He turned his back to his pupil, hiding this satisfaction of finally being in control for the first time that day and in order to keep up with his air of authority he began his lecture, “So I see you have at last found your senses.” the words dripped with self-pride as Sir Dace continued on. “You see, my dear boy,” he paused making sure that his pupil heard the last word, “There is much more to being a gentleman of my status than most peasantry could possibly perceive.” he un-shamefully boasted, “A great deal just cannot comprehend the number of codes one must follow, all in which are strict in their structure and are rooted deep in ones own personal honor.” At this point in his speech Sir Gregory Dace IV had began to pace still remaining with his back to his pupil a mistake he would never have a chance to correct.
The student who he had so strictly demanded to sit straight and proper remained slouched in the chair, his shoulders hunched in, legs spread out and his head now tossed back as he fixed his eyes up towards the roof making it a point to ignore his instructor as he had done so in the past. Yet the man went on lecturing, “If one, like yourself, wishes to become a gentleman one must first fully learn then devote himself to these codes and adhere to them at all times whether in company or not.” Sir Gregory Dace had finally closed his introduction on the first lesson of being a gentleman and had turned around expecting his student to be diligently taking notes all the while practicing proper posture. Yet what he saw throughly angered him to no end, as despite his clear instruction, the boy held not a single shred of proper posture whatsoever and was in fact mocking Dace with the use of hand puppets and rude facial gestures.
“Now see here noble lord Aeron, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I will not tolerate such atrocious behavior while tutoring you.” Dace said firmly. He stood over the youth, towering with the utmost most best posture he could hold, “Did you even feel the need to listen to a single notion that I, Sir Gregory Dace IV, have been sent forth to educate the likes of you about?” he said meaning it more to be a statement of the utter disrespect the boy was treating him with. “Is it your wish to become a fine young gentleman, then I suggest that you take heed and listen to what I am teaching you.” Dace said eyeing the youth with a suspicious look as he had yet to speak; nevertheless he swung his hands behind his back and began to pace once more as he prepared for yet another lengthy lecture, though this time he’d be sure his pupil would do well to listen. Sir Gregory Dace IV inhaled deeply, getting the necessary air that would be need to deliver such a windy speech, he opened his mouth to speak, but the lazy youth had beaten him to the punch, “Depends.” he said leaning back further in his seat causing the front legs to lift off the floor.
The Sir Gregory Dace IV stood there a moment, mouth agape as he attempted to recover from the initial shock of his adherent speaking. He searched for a proper gentlemanlike response, scanning his mind for an answer that would be appropriate, yet effective enough to reassert his unwavering authority over the uncooperative student. However, he came up dry. “What depends?” he asked settling on the two-word question for the moment, a frown pulling at his lips as he stared at the youth skeptically. A coy smile slowly spread across the younger male’s features, “Does a gentleman require to speak in such an overly flourished manner such as you do Sir Dace?” he asked cocking his head to the side in a mockingly curious manner. “Or for that matter,” he chimed in before Dace even had a chance to react let alone defend himself from the subtle insults that dripped from each question that was thrown at him. “Does being a gentleman, as you yourself claim to be, require one to speak in such a whiney high pitched tone?” Sir Gregory Dace IV stared at his student, his face that normally held a gleefully rosy glow was flushed a dark red as the anger Dace attempted to keep inside boiled to the surface. “Ah, never mind.” the boy smiled innocently, waving his hand dismissively at his own question, yet a devilish glint shone in the back of his eyes as he knew that such a gesture would drive the noble gentleman tutor over the edge of his limits. Indeed it seemed as though he was correct to assume such as the nobleman was beat red and shaking with absolute fury and just when it seemed as the man was going to explode from such extreme emotions, his features laxed.
“My dear lord Aeron, you are dismissed, today’s lesson has ended.” Sir Gregory Dace IV said as he turned his back to his pupil, the same mistake that he had made before and would never had a chance to correct. “It was simply a pleasure my dear gentleman, Sir Gregory Dace IV.” the young lord spoke with such amused contentment, “Til next time then.” he said as he slipped out the door and on to the desolate streets, yet conditions outside seemed much more pleasant than the ones that now swirled about the tutoring hall. Sir Gregory Dace IV, the once proud and noble instructor, lay a broken mess of a man and only a mere ghost of the gentleman he had claimed to be only hours ago. The mentor now found himself drinking away in his utter failure to teach such a deviously cunning youth that his pupil turned out to be and wondering where exactly he could find several sheets of sturdy wooden planks at this time, the wall perhaps came into mind, but was it made of wood that was the question.
Young lord Amin Aeron, sole heir to his family’s prestigious estate, had bested yet another instructor, his twenty-third to be exact.
