You understood, of course you did, the reason why you had to show up. Your grandfather couldn’t and what were you going to do? Complain? You had already done that.

“What do you want me to say? I have enough on my hands as is. Now stop acting like a child.”

It had been The Frontman’s only response, scolding you like the petulant kid you were acting like to him; and then he waved you off without another word. Pushed you aside, like you weren’t empowered by sheer nepotism. Regardless, you had no other choice.

Your grandfather always wore a mask that of a Great Horned Owl, wise. You had the more juvenile Barn Owl golden encrusted over your face, playing kind with the VIPS. Your only gift for this work was a Circle Guard to follow you around. Entrusted to be a glorified maid. How lucky.

He followed after you like a kicked puppy, lost and afraid. A mask hid his face, though you assumed he was young. He was good at his job, hands clasped behind his back as he waited patiently for his orders. Silent as a mouse.