Creatures of Value
Chapter 5, Different
New rule number one: no going outside without supervision, or, effectively, no going outside at all.
New rule number two: either Francis or Arthur one have to be told about any new powers discovered—immediately.
New rule number three: all claws have to be retracted indoors. Claw marks on anything, accidental or otherwise, will not be over looked.
New rule number four: no shedding on fabric.
New rule number five: breakfast must be completely eaten before leaving the house.
New rule number six: any and all problems or concerns have to be reported to either Arthur or Francis in a timely fashion.
New rule number seven: all rules are subject to change including the addition and subtraction of rules.
These were the original list of new rules recited the next morning after the school debacle, a coming together of sorts of both Arthur's and Francis's recent neurosis. Naturally, it caused both of the twins to pause, silverware in the air, in the middle of their breakfast. After all, who has a rule against shedding?
Alfred could think of no other way to phrase it, "Did you hit your head, Artie? How can we control how much we shed?"
Matthew nodded quickly in agreement.
"It is not how much, Alfred, but where you shed. You, in particular, will be shedding both white and black hairs. We all have no clothing that defend against both." Arthur explained rather easily, both he and Francis had agreed on that rule.
Alfred was still not convinced, "And the rule about claws? As long as we do not scratch anything it should be okay, right?"
"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of care, lad. We are trying to prevent accidents before they happen. No claws." Arthur continued.
"And the rule about finishing our breakfast?"
"Oh that, I think it is crazy, too."
"Mon petit," Francis gritted out between clenched teeth, "I put a lot of love into our meals, meals Arthur will not be getting anymore of at this rate, and it is important that you actually eat them."
Arthur almost dropped his fork.
"I get that, but does there have to be an actual rule about it?" Alfred pressed.
Francis smiled at this, "As you can see, some people at this table are not as well-mannered as you are. Besides, you have no problems finishing your meals."
"Yeah, but what about Mattie?"
"You will just have to help him when he needs it then."
"I can do that!" Alfred chirped, significantly brighter than when the conversation first began and finally refocusing on his plate.
"I am sure you can." Francis laughed, "Now if only someone else had that attitude."
Arthur slammed his hands on the table, "I get it, Frog. I'm sorry, alright!"
There was no particular reaction on everyone's part to the original slam, surprisingly enough with a child as timid as Matthew. This kind of banter between the stepbrothers was beyond commonplace before they ever became the twins' guardians. It did not even garner any attention among the four, or those that knew them, anymore. Why would it? Time for a new topic.
"So, have you two noticed anything different?" Alfred asked, one bite away from cleaning his plate.
It was a rather offbeat question, but it set both the older brothers on pins and needles. They hastily made a thorough scan of the room and their siblings—everything seemed in order. Alfred's plate was clean and he just guzzled down the last drop of milk in his glass. Matthew was also almost done with his morning meal, stuffed bear in hand. They were both dressed and ready for school that day and naturally Francis and Arthur were the same. The room, as well, seemed normal. Francis especially had spent all morning in the kitchen and had observed nothing out of the ordinary. So what could have possibly been "different" for them to notice?
"Not one thing, mon petit." Francis answered, "Care to help us out?"
"Not really."
"Alfred, are you really already going to violate the rules?" Arthur growled.
"Which rule, Artie?" Alfred quizzed with a cheeky grin, "Because if you can't tell me which rule I am breaking then how do you know I am breaking a rule in the first place?"
"Trivialities, Alfred!"
"Reasonable doubt, Artie!"
Today was going to be another long day.
"How about some help, Francis?" Arthur groaned, looking sideways to his stepbrother.
"I suppose, mon cher." he concluded, reaching out his fork and stabbing the last biscuit on Arthur's plate, "Though I have nothing when it comes to Alfred. Which rule is he breaking?"
Arthur merely stared for a couple minutes at Francis's blatant thievery. If they had been alone he would have read the man the riot act with all the colorful language he knew, but they were not so he promised himself that he would get even and refocused on his bratty little brother.
"You are violating rules seven and eight. Rule seven: all rules are subject to change including addition and subtraction. Rule eight: no hiding secrets from your guardians. Now speak up." Arthur chided.
Despite Alfred having no feline features at the moment everyone could practically see his hair raise.
"Tyrant!" he howled.
Arthur sighed. One might think that for such a word to be in Alfred's vocabulary then Nikki would have to be a fault. False. The currently named tyrant was the very one that taught the boy the word. As Alfred's designated storyteller, Arthur had several options when it came to stories: he could make something up, read something fictional, or read something historical. The former required quite a bit of effort, the middle was overused, so at times he found himself relying on the latter, and his first experience with that he had been using one of his textbooks. What was more, he soon learned the experience led to Alfred being able to read the books himself and search out similar ones to build his vocabulary. As such, words such as "tyrant," "dictator," and "democracy" were very much a part of the boy's thought process. If only he had known.
"I am not, lad. I simply need to know when something is amiss in my household." he explained as simply and candidly as he could.
As tiresome as it was to be addressed as a "tyrant," Arthur was truly torn at the moment. On one hand his little brother was openly rebellious and developing a defiant attitude against authority, but on the other he was probably more educated on the subject than his entire class of peers put together. Extremist ideas did come from education, he supposed, but there was a thin line, such as the one Alfred walked with Nikki's added knowledge. Arthur was having a hard time telling whether Alfred had crossed said line yet or not.
"Bad intensions are not required to be a tyrant. Absolute power corrupts absolutely!"
But for the sake of argument, he could assume so.
"Enough of this, boy. Either out with it or on your way to school you go!" he snapped.
Arthur was answered in no time flat with Alfred's stuck out tongue before the boy wasted no time in darting out the front door.
"You really riled him up today, mon cher. I am sure his teachers will appreciate it." Francis muttered, rising from his seat to collect the dirty dishes, "You run along, too, Matthew."
Arthur snorted at the comment as he watched Matthew following Alfred's example, though considerably slower, "Just what am I going to do with that boy?"
Francis waited until he heard the click of the front door, meaning Matthew was safely out of earshot, before he spoke, "Distinguish the line between irritation and manipulation, maybe? And you cannot blame this on Nikki since he was like this before. All you would be doing if you did is dig a deeper hole for yourself."
"Belt up." Arthur hissed, "I honestly have no idea what to do here, Francis. The last thing I want to do is discourage his interest in history, but if he gets anymore defiant I will have to board up the windows early in fear that he will run away."
"Oh, so you were planning to anyway?" Francis purred, depositing all the dishes in the kitchen sink.
Arthur, not having yet moved from his seat at the table, looked his stepbrother dead in the eye, "Yes, I was."
Francis was a little taken aback by how serious Arthur was being, "That is not the way to handle this now, much less when he is a teenager."
"Then how exactly am I supposed to handle this, then?!" he cried, burying his face into his hands, "Are you sure I cannot just lock him in the basement for a couple of years? I could do the same with Matthew so they are not lonely."
"As easy as that would be on both of us, I am afraid not, mon lapin."
"I thought as much… Now what could possibly be the 'different' thing we were supposed to notice?"
A long day, indeed.