But someone did care how someone fold their napkins. And it was Miss Agnes.
The long oak table gleamed under the afternoon light spilling in through the tall windows of the dining room. Miss Agnes stood at the head of the table, her sharp eyes trained on the two brothers before her.
Blaze slouched ever so slightly, his arms crossed, while Aiden maintained a rigid posture, his expression unreadable but his jaw slightly clenched.
"Well," Miss Agnes began, her clipped tone slicing through the silence, "Master Blaze, you've shown marginal improvement today. Marginal, mind you. At least you refrained from using your knife like a weapon this time."
Blaze smirked, tilting his head. "Glad to know I've reached such lofty heights, Miss Agnes. I'll aspire to be less of a barbarian tomorrow."
She ignored his sarcasm, waving a dismissive hand. "You may go. I've no illusions of keeping your attention any longer than necessary."
Aiden exhaled lightly, but his relief was short-lived.
"And you, Master Aiden," Miss Agnes said, her voice dropping into a cool, deliberate drawl, "are not so fortunate. Your...performance during breakfast was nothing short of spectacular, though not in the way a gentleman might aspire to be remembered."
Aiden's brow furrowed. "I've apologized for the fork incident, Miss Agnes. I fail to see why it must remain the highlight of the day."
She arched a brow, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she circled the table, her heeled shoes clicking softly against the wooden floor. "An apology, Master Aiden, does not undo the image of a fork clattering to the floor during a formal breakfast. Were this an ordinary household, perhaps it would pass unnoticed. But you, sir, are expected to represent this family with precision and grace, not the coordination of a fumbling child."
"It was a single mistake. Hardly the end of the world."
"Perhaps not for you," she replied with a tight smile, stopping to adjust the placement of a napkin. "But for your future hosts and dining companions, especially the Hunters Association who will be dining with you next week for a dinner, your... enthusiasm for clumsiness may suggest a lack of discipline."
"I assure you," Aiden said coolly, his voice steady but firm, "no one would dare question my discipline. And if they did, I trust my ability to command a room would speak louder than a misplaced fork."
Miss Agnes's eyes narrowed as she turned to face him.
"Confidence is commendable, Master Aiden, but confidence without precision is merely arrogance. I'll not have you embarrass yourself or this house at the dinner table."
Aiden's jaw tightened, his fingers curling slightly against the edge of the table.
He had heard these words before, and while he understood the importance of decorum, the sting of constant mockery was beginning to fray his patience.
"Master Aiden," Miss Agnes said, her tone dripping with condescension, "there are those who will never see you as the head of the Chase family- not with the lack of grace you display, not with the clumsy way you handle yourself in formal situations. Perhaps, if you understood that, you wouldn't be so... certain of your future."
Her words cut deep, but Aiden did not flinch. He straightened in his chair, meeting her gaze with a fire that burned colder than the words she had thrown at him. He remembered his mother's words of him, how he needs to keep his emotions in check at all times.
But if he feels disrespected, then he needs to put them in their place.
Especially since he feels like if he can't get it out, he would explode right then and there.
The dining room was suffocatingly still, the oppressive silence stretching between Aiden and Miss Agnes as she stood before him. She seemed determined to break him down, to strip away the confidence that came with his bloodline, to remind him of the "standards" he had yet to meet.
"Miss Agnes," he said finally, his voice low and controlled, but carrying a weight that made her pause, "you are speaking to the future head of the Chase family. The future head of the Hunter Association."
His eyes hardened, narrowing as he leaned forward, his voice firm and unwavering. "And if you wish to keep your position here, if you wish to continue teaching in this household, you would do well to remember that."
Miss Agnes's expression shifted, surprise flashing across her face. But she didn't speak. She didn't respond right away. Aiden's gaze didn't waver. He didn't need to say any more.
His words had weight. His lineage, his authority, the blood running through his veins- he knew how to wield them when necessary.
"If you intend to keep lecturing me as though I were some underling," Aiden continued, his voice growing colder still, "I suggest you reconsider your tone. You may have thought you were guiding me, but it seems you've forgotten who you're talking to."
A deep silence filled the room, hanging heavy in the air. Miss Agnes opened her mouth to speak, but Aiden held up a hand, stopping her with the sheer force of his presence. His posture remained straight, his expression unyielding, like a stone carved from the same foundation as the Chase family itself.
"If you want to remain in my employ, Miss Agnes," he said, his words deliberate and final, "I suggest you shut up and listen. I don't need your mockery. I need your expertise. And if that's something you can't provide with respect, then perhaps this lesson is over."
For the first time, Miss Agnes' gaze faltered, her poised exterior cracking just slightly. She didn't respond.
Instead, she stood there, measuring him, perhaps weighing the truth in his words, or perhaps her pride refusing to bend.
Aiden stood slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. He was done. He had made his point, and if she chose to remain, it would be on his terms, not hers.
"Good day, Miss Agnes," he said, with the finality of a sentence pronounced. He turned on his heel and left the room without a second glance.
The echoes of Miss Agnes's sharp words still rang in Aiden's ears as he stormed up the grand staircase, his steps quick and slightly uneven, as though he was trying to outrun his frustration.
The tie loosely knotted at his neck felt suffocating, and he yanked at it irritably.
Behind him, Ettore followed at a measured pace, his polished shoes barely making a sound on the wooden steps. His calm, steady presence might have been a comfort if Aiden weren't so wrapped up in his own simmering irritation. Halfway up the stairs, Aiden suddenly stopped, spinning around to face Ettore, his cheeks still faintly red with lingering anger.
"No one's allowed in my room," he said sharply, his voice cracking slightly as he pointed upwards for emphasis. "Got it? Not anyone. Not even Blaze. No one."
Ettore, standing a few steps below him, inclined his head politely. "Understood, Master Aiden. Shall I inform others that you're not to be disturbed?"
"If it's something really urgent, they can knock. But just knock. And you... you can talk to me through the door if you need to. Just… don't come in."
"Understood, sir," Ettore said, his gaze steady. He hesitated for a moment, as though weighing his words. "If I may, Master Aiden… you did the right thing."
Aiden frowned, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. "The right thing? It didn't feel like the right thing. I lost control of my emotions."
Ettore's gaze was steady, his tone calm but firm. "You stood up for yourself. That is not an easy thing to do, especially in such circumstances. Few would have handled it as you did."
Aiden's lips twitched into a faint, reluctant smile, though he quickly tried to suppress it. "Yeah, well… it wasn't exactly fun."
"No, sir," Ettore agreed with a hint of wryness. "But it was necessary."
Aiden shifted awkwardly, looking down at his scuffed shoes for a moment before straightening. "Just… make sure no one comes in, okay? I don't want to talk to anyone right now."
"Of course, Master Aiden," Ettore said. "You can rely on me."
Without another word, Aiden turned and resumed his climb, his untucked shirt flaring slightly as he ascended the steps. Ettore watched him go, his face calm but faintly thoughtful.
The young master carried himself with a bravado that seemed to mask far deeper uncertainties, but Ettore had no intention of letting anyone breach the sanctuary of Aiden's room. For now, he would ensure the boy had the space he clearly needed.