Father was thankfully on one of his business trips, so he wouldn’t have to deal with him today.
He entered the kitchen and frowned when he saw a bowl of porridge already waiting for him on the table. Usually he made his own breakfast, and he liked it that way, but he knew his mother never accepted that. This was her idea of a peace gesture, which meant she was going to ask something of him he wouldn’t like.
"I figured I’d prepare something for you today, and I know you’ve always liked porridge," she said. Zorian refrained from mentioning he hadn’t liked it since he was about eight. "You slept longer than I thought you would, though. It’s gone cold while I’ve waited for you."
Zorian rolled his eyes and cast a slightly modified heat water spell on the porridge, which was instantly returned to a pleasant temperature.
He ate his breakfast in silence while Mother talked to him at length about a crop-related dispute one of their suppliers was involved in, dancing around whatever topic she wanted to broach. He effortlessly tuned her out. It was practically a survival skill for every child in the Kazinski family, as both mother and father were prone to protracted lectures on every subject imaginable, but doubly so for Zorian, who was the black sheep of the family and thus subjected to such monologues more frequently than the rest. Thankfully, his mother thought nothing of his silence, because Zorian was always as silent as possible around his family – he had learned many years ago that this was the easiest way of getting along with them.
"Mother," he interrupted her, "I just woke up via Kiri jumping on me, I haven’t had a chance to go to the bathroom and now you’re pestering me while I’m eating. Either get to the point or wait a couple of minutes while I finish breakfast."
"She did it again?" his mother asked, amusement obvious in her voice.
Zorian rubbed his eyes, not saying anything, before surreptitiously pocketing an apple from the bowl on the table while his mother wasn’t looking. There were a lot of annoying things Kirielle did again and again, but complaining about it to Mother was a waste of time. No one in this family was on his side.
"Oh, don’t be like that," his mother said, noticing his less-than-pleased reaction. "She’s just bored and playing with you. You take things way too seriously, just like your father."
"I am nothing like my father!" Zorian insisted, raising his voice and glaring at her. This was why he hated eating with other people. He returned to his breakfast with renewed vigor, eager to finish this as soon as possible.
"Of course you’re not," Mother said airily, before suddenly switching the subject. "Actually, this reminds me of something. Your father and I are going to Koth to visit Daimen."
Zorian bit the spoon in his mouth to prevent himself from making a snide comment. It was always Daimen this, Daimen that. There were days when Zorian wondered why his parents had three other children when they were clearly so enamored of their eldest son. Really, going to another continent just to visit him? What, were they going to die if they didn’t see him for a year?
"What’s that got to do with me?" Zorian asked.
"It will be an extended visit," she said. "We’ll be there for about six months, most of it spent traveling from one place to another. You and Fortov will be at the academy, of course, but I’m worried about Kirielle. She’s only nine and I don’t feel comfortable bringing her along with us."
Zorian paled, finally catching on to what she wanted of him. Hell. No.
"Mother, I’m 15," he protested.
"So?" she asked. "Your father and I were already married when we were your age."
"Times change. Besides, I spend most of the day at the academy," Zorian responded. "Why don’t you ask Fortov to take care of her? He’s a year older and he has his own apartment."
"Fortov is in his fourth year," his mother said sternly. "He’s going to graduate this year so he has to focus on his grades."
"You mean he said no," Zorian concluded out loud.
"And besides…" she continued, ignoring his remark, "I’m sure you’re aware of how irresponsible Fortov can be at times. I don’t think he’s fit to raise a little girl."
"And whose fault is that?" Zorian grumbled quietly, loudly dropping his spoon and pushing the plate away from him. Maybe Fortov was irresponsible because he knew mother and father would simply dump his responsibilities onto Zorian if he just played dumb long enough, didn’t that ever occur to her? Why did it always fall to him to deal with the little imp? Well, he wasn’t going to get saddled with this! If Fortov was too good to take care of Kirielle, then so was Zorian!
Plus, the little tattletale would undoubtedly report everything he did back to Mother without a second thought. The best thing about attending a school so far from home was that he could do whatever he wanted with his family being none the wiser, and there was no way he was going to give that up. Really, this was just a transparent ploy by his mother to spy on him, so she could lecture him some more about family pride and proper manners.
"I don’t think I’m fit for that either," continued Zorian a little louder. "You said only a few minutes ago that I’m an embarrassment to the family. We wouldn’t want to corrupt little Kiri with my uncaring attitude, now would we?"
"I didn’t-"
"No!" Zorian shouted.
"Oh, have it your way," she huffed in resignation. "But really, I wasn’t suggesting-"
"What are you talking about?" Kirielle called out from behind him.
"We were discussing what a rotten brat you are," Zorian shot back immediately.
"No you weren’t!"
Zorian just rolled his eyes and rose from his seat, intending to go to the bathroom, only to find an irate little sister blocking his path. There was a knock at the door.
"I’ll get it!" said Zorian quickly, knowing that Mother would demand that one of them open the door and that Kirielle wouldn’t budge from her spot any time soon - she could be very stubborn when she wanted.
That was how Zorian found himself staring at a bespectacled woman dressed in expensive-looking khaki-colored clothes and cradling a thick book in her arm.
The woman gave him an appraising glance, adjusting her glasses. "Zorian Kazinski?"
"Uh, yeah?" he said, unsure how to react to this development.
"I am Ilsa Zileti, from Cyoria’s Royal Academy of Magical Arts. I’m here to discuss the results of your certification."
Color drained from Zorian’s face. They sent an actual mage to talk to him!? What did he do to warrant this!? Mother was going to skin him alive!
"You aren’t in trouble, Mister Kazinski," she said, smiling in amusement. "The Academy has a habit of sending a representative to third year students to discuss various matters of interest. I confess I should have visited you sooner, but I have been a tad busy this year. You have my apologies."
Zorian stared at her for a few seconds.
"May I come in?"
"Huh? Oh!" said Zorian. "Forgive my manners, Miss Zileti. Come in, come in."
"Thank you," she accepted politely, stepping into the house.
After a quick introduction to his mother and sister, Ilsa asked him if he had somewhere they could discuss school matters privately. Mother quickly decided she had to go to town market and took Kirielle with her, leaving him alone in the house with the mage, who promptly scattered various papers across the kitchen desk.