We sat distanced from each other like we did in the limousine, with Father taking the throne-like chair at the head. "I can't exactly recall the last time were all present in a single room, like this."

"It was two years ago, Father," Cecile informed, "for Aunt Teresa's birthday."

"Ah, so it was... That day was a blur to me."

"I remember Mr Knight Sieg mistaking the nobles' jokes about her as insults and getting all defensive," Phoebe said innocently, evoking a chuckle from the family.

Sieg's cheeks went slightly pink. "I try to forget about that."

"Oh, I never will," Kylie chimed in. "Just like I'll never forget when Palmer got drunk and-."

"HEY HEY HEY!" Palmer suddenly screamed. "What did I do to you, huh?!"

More laughs broke out around us. When they died down, we sat in silence for a moment. Cecile leaned back into the couch and laced his fingers, a more serious expression overtaking his face. "So why now?"

Looking at Father, he asked simply. "Why meet now, like this, after two years? I don't recall any birthdays or celebrations occurring on this day."

"There's been an incident in the Southern Ghetto," Father answered grimly. "It's probably better I show you."

Pressing a button on the remote, the TV's black screen snapped to a news headline: DOCTOR, JAY KAULBINE, DECLARED DEAD AFTER SOUTHERN GHETTO INCIDENT.

Live coverage of a mourning family and reports of funeral arrangements accompanied the headline, reporters giving their fluffed details of the doctor's passing in their cinematic tone meant to inflame the drama.

We watched the news channel for a minute before Phoebe asked, "Did you know him?"

"No, but I imagined he was a good man," Father said disappointedly. "Terrible what those folks in the ghetto did to him."

"Why was he there in the first place?" Palmer asked as he put his boot on the table. "If anything, he deserved it for going there."

"Why does this concern us, Father?" Cecile asked apathetically. "The ghetto's a place for violent mongrels who have no place in our society. If they wish to treat us like this despite our generosity in guaranteeing them international security, then surely using this doctor's death isn't ideal for retaliation since the fool decided to travel to the ghetto in the first place."

He leaned forward curiously. "There've been worse events between us and them that would warrant retaliation, yet we've refrained. So, what's so special about this?"

"As rational as always, Cecile," Father praised. "You're right: my personal connection to the doctor is nonexistent, and there's no real good reason that his death should amount to anything. Except--"

He muted the TV. "--the doctor himself is not the focus of this. A man in the ghetto has started a rioting campaign that my intelligence coordinators believe is tied to the doctor's death."

He clicked another button on his remote, this time pulling up the image of a young man dressed in camouflaged Beaumont Armed Forces attire. "The man's name is Reece, and he is someone that I, in fact, do know."