Decorum

    Nils would have preferred not to move from the sofa, for every time he opened his eyes, there was a deep throbbing in his skull. The afternoon sun was unforgiving, and the bustling of his second mother around the room with her clanging and heavy footsteps was doing him no favours. He pulled his cap down over his eyes and groaned, curling his face into the cushions.

    "Nils, what is wrong with you? Get up."

    Someone was speaking to him. He grumbled in return.

    "I don't care if you were up all night," the voice berated. "We need to be there in a half-hour. Up."

    With his cap still guarding his eyes, he sat up and swung his feet to the floor in one motion. He had been up late into the night, it was true, but it wasn't with whatever wasteful thing she suspected him of. Ceremony or no, we was going to pass those exams. He raised a lazy hand at her.

    "I'm awake," he muttered.

    The woman stopped in the doorway. "Oh, you are dressed, good. Let's get going."

    Nils stumbled across the room, yawning, "Where's Mother?"

    "She went early, to help him get ready."

    He paused a moment to consider this scene—Ryder, the soon-to-be-decorated war hero, having his mother straighten his tie. Shocking that the man's pride would stand for it.

    "Private!" the woman barked from the door, breaking his reverie, "Fall in!"

    On instinct, he stood upright and gave a frantic salute, only dropping the pose when he realize that the familiar command was coming from the wrong person. He frowned.

    "Yeah, nice, Mom." He sauntered to the open arch and reached up to pat her on top of her head. "Better crouch down a bit for that impression, though. You're way too tall."

    She laughed, "I'm going to tell her you said that."

    "You wouldn't."

    "Take dish duty for a week and I won't."

    Nils shrank back, cringing. The vivid image of the restaurant sink, piled high, floated through his mind.

    "You're kidding, right?"

    She reached up idly to one of the rounded horns beside her face and stroked it, pulling her fingers in a not so subtle gesture out to the pointed tip.

    "I wonder…" she sighed.

    "Okay, okay!"

    The young man waved his hands in apology. The woman laughed.

    "Let's go, come on."

---

    Even in formalwear, Nils found himself feeling underdressed among the sea of uniforms. It seemed half the city had shown up at the plaza outside the municipal center. He scanned the crowd, but caught not a glimpse of his birth mother or elder brother.

    Leave it to the city to fly in the face of austerity, he mused. Colourful banners waved on the sides of the stage that had been erected in front of the building. The brilliant gold and azure that was the herald of the armed forces flew all up and down the edges of the plaza, gaudy as a jewelry box. The Major had often scoffed at the displays, chiding that recognition was the least of one's concern on the battlefield. Nils had always supposed that was easy enough to say, when you were as decorated as she was.

    He barely noticed where he was being led as they maneuvered through the crowd, though these were streets he had tread a thousand times. Waving fabrics and the smoldering eye of a clean cut, sharp man in uniform captured his attention.

    A crisp voice cut right through it.

    "Aldiva, over here."

    Despite the call being a beckon, and not a scolding, not even directed his way, Nils's tail stiffened with the rest of his spine, straight as a rod. Seconds passed before he could think to breathe again. His second mother looked around, then finally waved back at the speaker.

    A little apart, with some difficulty—but never any lack of grace—Major Gaia Engstaad stood from her chair at the end of one of several rows set up near the wooden stage. She strode toward them, straight-backed, her gold-handled cane glinting in the sunlight. Looking as perfectly fit in her dress uniform as she did, one would have assumed she was up for an award. She looked up at her wife with soft eyes, which hardened the moment she turned to her son.

    "You were still napping? I left three hours ago," she chided.

    Nils froze. How could she know that? When he still did not reply, she reached up and poked him in the cheek.

    "Fix your hair. Do have some decorum here. Unless you'd like to stand in the back?"

    "No, Mother," he sighed, and worked at tucking his curls beneath the band of his cap.

    Aldiva stepped in with a smile, and rest her hand on Gaia's shoulder.

    "Where's our boy, then?"

    The petite woman gestured to the side of the stage. In a cluster of uniforms, Ryder and his neatly sharpened horns were easily spotted. A solemn smile decorated the young man's face as he spoke quickly to someone, and shook the hand of a woman with more medals pinned to her chest than seemed reasonable. Oh Ryder, Ryder, face like a rock, Nils recited in his head, in his old, secret taunt. It was largely untrue, but now and then, he thought, it would be nice to see his brother not looking as though someone had recently died.

    "Watch your leg, dear."

    He nearly missed Aldiva escorting Gaia back to her seat. He filed in behind them.

    Weary, his thoughts continued to drift as a bell was rung for hush and another person in uniform took center stage to speak. In the nearly three weeks Ryder had been back in the country, he hadn't seen him more than three times. The entire region had been in celebration at the return of the troops and an end to the current skirmishes, with the promise of new policies and negotiations on everyone's lips. Yet, all that he and his mothers had cared for during those long months was Ryder's safety, a daily fret that they would receive a solemn knock at their door. And in repayment? Ryder only kept away longer.

    Nils scuffed his boots on the ground. Gaia glared, but it went unseen.

    He began turning textbook facts over in his head, instead. The Independence Movement of the Volaric hill people was settled with the ratification of the Gatanu-Himmel Treaty of Ash Year 129, he recalled. The current head of the Borderland Trade Commission is Worden Ombent. The commissioner is appointed by the governor, who is selected by general election… Or was the Treaty in Ash Year 149? Or was it 147…? It was Chief Gosel who recently appeared to the committee on the behalf of the Volari. It was her daughter, Janrii, who brought the flood path pacts to the attention of the—

    "Lieutenant Ryder Engstaad."

    A quiet came to Nils's mind. He looked up from the cobblestones. Ryder rose from his front row chair and climbed the stairs at the side of the stage, and walked to the center, where he stood at attention beside the announcing officer. Bravo, Nils thought, so wonderful that he could look so unaffected even now, before this crowd. He glanced over. His mothers' faces were fixed on the stage, utterly enraptured. Nils folded his arms. It wasn't even as impressive as affair as Ryder's academy graduation—that one had a band, and platters of free food in constant rotation. He gazed at Ryder. The officer was speaking words he could not parse. The officer turned and pinned a shiny piece of metal to the lapel of Ryder's ceremonial jacket, and the crowd cheered.

    Nils looked back to his mothers. Many in the crowd had stood to applaud him, but the two of them had not.

    Nils felt his heart stop.

    It was the first time he had ever seen tears in Gaia's eyes.

---

    The event concluded with a quiet recitation of the Protector's Oath from all those awarded. The crowd dispersed as swiftly as it had amassed, and the soldiers and their families were asked to stay behind, for a brief reception inside the hall.

    Nils lingered outside the inner doorway, sitting cross-legged on a bench in the lobby. He still had plenty of trivia left to turn in his head. Names and dates would not simply remember themselves. He propped a pilfered leaflet and pencil on his lap, scrawling everything that poured out of his head, until he caught the narrowed gaze of a very stern and distinguished person in a wide-brimmed cap as they passed through. Nils flushed and gathered his things, and stepped outside.

    It seemed like ages he spent leaning against the outside wall, watching as custodians cleared the plaza, before a low voice called to him.

    "Nils."

    He raised his eyes just barely at the approaching footsteps.

    "Lieutenant Engstaad," he addressed. "You're looking well."

    Ryder's voice faltered. "You came to the ceremony, didn't you?"

    "Wouldn't miss it." Nils shrugged. "Couldn't miss it. Mother would have strangled me."

    Ryder pulled at his collar. "She nearly strangled me this morning. I think she meant to hug me earlier, but she may well have just been practicing a combat maneuver. If there is anything the Major has lost, it is not her grip."

    There was a pause where it seemed Nils should laugh. He didn't. He pointed vaguely.

    "That," he said, glancing toward the diamond-shaped medal.

    "Hm?"

    "It looks good on you… I guess."

    "Thanks."

    The two brothers stood in silence. Nils swung his leg, scuffing the sole of his boot on the ground. His tail swung stiffly.

    "Look, I—" Ryder began.

    There was a sudden, fierce crackling. Nils's fingers balled into a fist, closing around the dry notepaper.

    "No... you know what? Fuck you," Nils hissed.

    The words were quiet and low. His feet stilled. The notepaper fell from his hand.

    "Fuck you and your stupid fucking medal. What? You saved some orphans or some soldiers or whatever, that's fucking great. Let's all look at Ryder and his shitty new button! What a fucking prize you are! What a star child!"

    "Nils..."

    "No, fuck you! I don't give a flying shit about any of that! I… Shit…"

    He pulled at his loose forelocks. His breath struggled out, ragged, and it was only then he noticed that his eyes were stinging.

    He breathed deep.

    His fist unraveled. His weight shifted, and he turned.

    He felt Ryder inhale as his hand clasped the other around the broad of Ryder's chest. He squeezed his arms tight.

    "I'm sorry, I just, shit... I'm so glad you're back."

    For once, Ryder was kind enough not to note the tears in the Nils's eyes. He returned the squeeze.

    "I missed you, too."

    Before they could linger long, he thumped the flat of his palm on Nils's back.

    "Now come on," he said. "Let's get back in there, or the Major really will strangle us both, and I don't think Mom will have the heart to stop her."

    "Fine, you piece of shit," Nils laughed. "Just ruin the moment."

    Ryder shrugged, and turned swiftly on his heel. Nils only barely caught a glimpse of the side of his face.

    There were tears in the corners of Ryder's eyes as well.

    And for once, a genuine smile.