The doors slammed shut, and Erin and her mother's exit was like a fleeing hurricane of motion and noise.

Once the dust settled, and the muffled scuffling beyond the door ceased, it was then that two were left: a young man with an unreadable smile and the stern grimacing aged man burning holes into him.

"That was a rather interesting display," Lord Sutherton coldly said, watching Ezra with dedicated observance. “You are starting to go beyond intriguing me.”

Ezra’s brows pinched together. "I’m honored to inspire your attention, but display? What do you mean by display, my Lord?"

Lord Sutherton's already hardened grimace grew even more taught and deeper the longer they held eye contact. In precise static movements, he rubbed the stubble of his beard before reaching into his blazer's pockets. "I'm referring to how you engaged that troublesome child." There was a frigid chill in his voice. "That was the first time I've seen her so taken aback. You've managed a feat most don't near." He gestured towards a seat. "Take your seat."

Ezra's eyes flickered from Lord Sutherton and then to the seat.

"There are few men who know how to place duty above everything---even themselves." Lord Sutherton glanced at him, rawly speaking with a cast iron gaze.

Ezra took a seat directly across from him, a dead tundra breeze filling the stale air. "Well, of course, my lord. I like to take my work with grave fidelity."

"Is that so?" Lord Sutherton swiftly tugged out a small golden rectangular cigar container from his pocket before cracking it open and nimbly pulling out a black cigar. "Well, I would have struck her already if you hadn't saved me hassle by entertaining her games. Smoke?" His eyes surfed past the young man and then back to the glare of gold case.

"I regretfully must turn down your offer."

"Pity. My father, Graham Sutherton, was an ardent proponent." He snapped the cigar case closed. "During the Flash Conflict, he said they helped keep him calm in times of crisis. He told me one day, I would want to do the same because Suthertons are bound to pick up a particular habit or two." He swiped at the bottom of his nose. "But the young never believe the old until they too become old." He slipped the container back into his pockets whilst fiddling with his trousers in search of a match.

In response, Ezra tugged out from his pocket a worn, aged silver lighter. "Old? My Lord, you are the definition of vigorous.” He lit the match, a bright red flame appearing. The red danced in the reflection of his smiling eyes, a spark and cloud of smoke striking the air the moment the cigar and flame collided.

Briefly, there was cold brick silence, as Mr. Sutherton puffed the cigar, his copper brown-colored eyes scanning the composed young man across from him.

"Your flattery is unnecessary." The corner of a taught grimace lifted as he puffed. But, the hint of his smile faded just as quickly as it appeared leaving a dead silence in its wake.

"Cercle Durick's Yorkshire Blend, right?" Ezra's eyes narrowed on the deep black cigar wrapped with a red band in the center, his nostril taking the scent of a mix of heavy rain and burning leaf.

Nodding, he puffed, murky white smoke trailing into the air. "That's correct." He sucked in the cigar, blowing out a cloud of grey. "How did you know? Few know the brand."

"A prior master of mines preferred those in particular."

"Hm. These aren't the easiest to get your hands on. Ever since Prince Kaelixson-Nier declared the brand his chosen cigar, the Crown has seemingly made it their mission to monopolize the supply." Waves of smoke swirled around the stubble of his beard. "Tell me, what man must I be made aware of? Surely his means of supplying himself must also be mines because some days I am lucky, other days I am not; fighting for resources with the Crown is not anything ideal.”

Ezra laughed. "I don’t imagine it could be. But, tell me, even after being joined with our Glorious Crown your royal relative will not spare you even a few?”

“That would be in a different reality.”

“Truly?” He laughed again.

“So, what is the name of the man?”

“I apologize that it slips my mind." He smiled. "It was such a long time ago, when I was just a juvenile then."

"Yes, I noticed that in your documents. It seems you've been in this field for quite some time. How long exactly have you been training?" Gradually, he exhaled, smoke mingling with the stale air.

“It’s been a very long time.”

“I see.” Smoke temporarily blanketed his chilly gaze.

“You must know that an opportunity like this is something I find great excitement over. And?" There was only momentary contemplation before he replied. "It's hard to describe, but I'm so glad I was chosen to come here lest this opportunity would have never presented itself."

"Hm. Yes." He puffed again; his copper eyes unmoved from the young man. "Do you know of what happened to Hamden?"

"Hamden?"

"Yes, Sir Berkely normally sends his messenger boy, Hamden." He locked the cigar between his lips. "You've made no mention of him as of yet. I hope he too is not injured."

"Ah, Hamden." Realization was shaping on his face. "Yes, yes, he’s fine. He was simply preoccupied."

"I see. It seems that you are really a fortunate man. As luck would have it, there's no Sir Berkely and no Hamden, but just you." Another wave of heavy smoke was thick in the air.

"Yes, as luck would have it."

“Hm.” He dusted ashes off his shirt. "Let me tell you a story. Lord Vance, an acquaintance of mines, was quite into hound breeding, and he always spoke of his wide collection of breeds. There was the terrier, the greyhound, the retriever, the Newfoundland, and so on and so forth. One day, he rounded up all his best hounds and asked me, which breed out of the lot would I let watch over my family’s heirloom?”

Confusion settled on his face at the sudden start of Lord Sutherton's anecdotal story.

Lord Sutherton continued speaking, stopping between puffs. "So many of them were fine specimens. They had keen instinct, sharp wit, and quick agility. There were wolves when they needed to hunt, and dogs when they needed to serve. Surely from such a pick, one of them I might trust with a such a thing so special? But my problem, Ezra, was that Lord Vance had rounded up the best of his pedigree, neglecting the mutts that guarded his sheep, roosters, and hens. And there is a difference between a mutt and a pedigree.”

Ezra raised his brows, listening tentatively.

“Lord Vance let his pedigrees grow fat before vicious. He groomed and dressed them, concerned more their appearance and shape. Many, if not all, of his pedigrees are so far diverged so far from their purpose. Everything they do is done not because of natural instincts or because their master wills it, rather it is because they know they will be rewarded. But those mutts? No titles, no rewards, and no deliberate care. Yet, as it will always stand, never do they remove themselves from their duty." He stopped to smoke and billow. “I say, what is the purpose of a servant that will serve only for a reward?”

“And what is the purpose of a master expecting service with devotion?” Ezra said, sounding almost contemptuous.

Lord Sutherton gave him a piercing stare, but the young man smiled and spoke up quickly. “That is to suggest, why should one have to expect for what should be a standard?”

"Correct.” He was pleased with the reply. “Mister Radcliff, or rather, your name, was Ezra, wasn't it?"

"That's correct."

"Ezra." He grazed his stubble beard, brushing away ashes. "If I allow you work today, I want to confirm that this is not a waste of my time and resources. I grow tired of these games engineered by that child so keenly desperate for microscopic crumbs of attention for anyone who will heed her. For that, I will only tolerate so much." Disgust flared in his boiling eyes, and momentarily he lapped his cigar, aggressively spatting out steam.

Ezra nodded understandingly.

Lord Sutherton paused, locked his cigar, suckling the tobacco with a cold stare. He peered deeply at Ezra. "I need to be certain you will not fail me. She's run out so many men and woman, and even Reynolds, the most experienced of butlers we've come across. Astounding it really is. Never before have I come across such a lack of integrity and loyalty in my staff, and to think they cannot handle one lass is beyond me. When I was a juvenile, my father’s staff retired only in death." Rather abruptly, he killed his cigar, butting it on the table, all whilst never moving his eyes.

"In death?" His smile was unchanged as he processed the words. "How could I respond to that?"

"I didn't ask you to.” He swiped at his nose. “There was loyalty back then. Before, we would have decades and years from our workers, but now I cannot seem to get a stable week. I do not appreciate that. Rather what I appreciate to know is what will you give me?”

For a moment, Ezra's smile anchored down, and the silence lingered.

After a moment of deathly stillness, Ezra folded his hands and stared. "Lord Sutherton, I have more than time, loyalty, or dedication to give you---I'd give my life."

“Good.” Lord Sutherton nodded. “Then welcome to the Sutherton Estate.”

“My greatest thanks. Might I ask for the tour?”