"Henry! Henry!! It's 5 in the afternoon. If you stay in bed any longer, you'll rot. Dinners in thirty minutes, and your father will be furious if you miss another family dinner. "
A tall woman with long, luscious blonde hair and vividly clear emerald-colored eyes knocked on the door with clear irritation in her tone. Having to wake up her 20-year-old son for the third time in a week after he ignored his maid is the last thing she wanted to be doing on a clear sky Thursday afternoon.
"Don't worry, Mom, no need to wait for me, I'll be out in a bit. I just need to get dressed."
Henry mumbled at the door just loud enough to be heard while rubbing his eyes raw. His eyes burned from drinking and playing cards through the night and into the early afternoon. He had been riding a winning streak and had refused to leave until he could barely keep his eyelids open.
"I'm not falling for that trick again, Henry, so no point in trying. I'll be waiting out here for you until I lay my eyes on you."
Sarah shouted at the door at a loud enough decibel to ensure her son's displeasure as a form of petty revenge for her having to be there at all. Inside the room, Henry picked up the pace and started dressing himself at a quicker pace, realizing his mother's strategy and trying to minimize the annoyance. Wearing a white button-down shirt with black leather pants and black boots to go along with his obsidian-colored hair and green eyes to match his mother's, Henry opened the door, refusing to let his mother wait and thus avoiding another rant on his slothful movements.
"See, that didn't take too long, did it? You didn't have to sit here and wait for me."
Sarah scoffed at Henry's remark but refrained from responding while beginning to walk towards the dining room. As they approached their destination, Sarah caught a whiff of Henry's alcoholic stench and was saddened at her son's inability to be decent. She had tried everything from interventions to heartfelt talks on his health and future, but nothing seemed to get through to him.
The three-minute walk to the dining room was enough to fully wake Henry and his appetite, evidenced by the loud growl of his stomach. He wasted no time pushing the dining room's heavy double doors and rapidly getting into his seat at the table right across from his older brother Howard. Once seated, he realized his father, Arnold, was glaring at him hard enough to drill a hole in him.
"Do I have something stuck on my face or something?"
Henry asked, trying to ease the tension that had built from the moment he walked into the room.
"You really don't know, do you? No, you don't have anything stuck on your fucking face. What you do have are heavy bags under your eyes, a lackluster skin complexion, and worst of all, you smell like shit."
Arnold's deep, authoritative voice couldn't help but rise as he scolded his youngest son, who didn't seem to take anything seriously.
"Damn, well tell me how you really feel then, while you're at it."
Henry joked, hoping it would de-escalate the hostile confrontation, looking at his mother and brother for support in ending the situation. They looked at him, then looked away, offering no shelter from his angry father. 'Well, fuck you guys too,' thought Henry as he snapped his eyes back towards his father.
"Stop looking at them for support and get your shit together. I might be your father, but even I can't cover your terrible life choices forever. I know you hate being compared to your brother, but why can't you act even a little like him? Where's your fight, your ambition, your fire?"
As soon as the words left Arnold's mouth, he knew he had messed up. Any comparisons made between Henry and Howard always came with an immediate shutdown of conversation for Henry, and this time was no different. Henry sat with a vacant stare right at his father's black hair, but avoiding his brown eyes. 'Why would I need fight or ambition when Howard is inheriting the Barony. He can have all that shit' was the only coherent thought floating in his head.
"Come on, bro, you know father didn't mean any harm, he's just worried about you, that's all."
Howard said, trying to reinvigorate his uninterested brother to no avail, as his words couldn't even get a look back from Henry.
"Just leave it, Howard, you know how your brother is. It's my mistake for making comparisons. Anyways Henry, make sure not to miss tomorrow's dinner, your fiancée, Ashley, and her parents will be stopping by to meet you. It's been 10 years since you've seen her; she's grown into a beautiful and strong young woman. Make sure to groom yourself at least this once."
After saying this, Arnold, who seemingly had lost his appetite, got out of his chair. His 6'2" stocky build cast a large shadow on the dining room table as he exited.
For the following fifteen minutes at the dinner table, all that could be heard were utensils scraping porcelain plates as a pervading silence filled the room. Even the maids felt the need to be silent, watching the remainder of the Sinclair Barony refuse to speak to each other.
Henry, who was the first of the three to finish his meal, basically sprinted out of the dining room while deciding that he needed a drink even before going to the gambling den. Luckily, his secret stash of ale that he kept in his nightstand was well stocked. On his way to the room, he thought a bit about what his father had said, but quickly shrugged it off as too troublesome to think about. His mind had snapped back to its original single-minded pursuit of pleasure, his thoughts on continuing yesterday's winning streak at the den.
As the sun finally surrendered to the night after a long day's service, Henry, with ale in his left hand and 10 silver coins in his right pocket, arrived at the gambling den. It only took two steps in the establishment for the sleazy looking manager to come greet him with an unsettling smile.
"Henry! What a surprise to see you here today. I wasn't sure you'd show after fleecing the den for all its worth last night," he said with enthusiasm, clearly trying to butter Henry up as much as possible.
His voice oddly missing any resentment that should've been present in someone who had lost 8 silver coins from just one customer. Nevertheless, his words greatly pleased Henry as he took it as a compliment on his luck and skill, completely overlooking that detail. With a wide, cheesy smile full of amusement, Henry reached over and shook the short, beer-bellied man's hand firmly.
"What can I say, Sam, you got to ride hot streaks until the very end; they don't last forever, as you well know."
The manager, Sam, still smiling ear to ear, hearing Henry's words, began leading him to his own VIP room to the side of the public gambling area.
"Well, let's hope you cool off a little for my sake today. We have all of your favorite games ready for you. What will it be today?" he said while opening the door to Henry's VIP room earned by gambling over a silver a week.
Thinking it over as he sat, Henry eventually settled on a dice game as his preferred vice for the night. Mostly due to the simplicity of the game, as he didn't want to use any real computing power at the moment. The only thing the game entailed was to call out even or odd before two dice are cast; choosing the correct parity is a win. Henry, still on a high from yesterday's run, decided to completely bypass copper coins, starting his initial wager at one silver. This turned out to be a mistake on his end, because he quickly lost four silver coins in a row. Believing that he had gotten all of his losses out of the way, he took a long swig of his 1-liter jug of ale to calm his nerves and then quickly doubled his wager to two silver coins to recover from his initial losses. But after three more consecutive losses, he was out of coin and absolutely floored by the statistical improbability of losing seven rounds in a row. His shock quickly turned to anger.
"There's no fucking way I lost seven times in a row, let me see the dice right now, Sam," he said while slamming his fist on the oak wood table in front of him.
Sam had seen Henry get angry before and knew there was nothing he could say to pacify him, so he passively threw the dice to him and waited for the coming inspection. After five whole minutes of scrutiny, Henry still couldn't find anything wrong with either die. How could my luck really run out this fast? I barely lost all of yesterday, but as soon as I started betting entire silvers, I didn't wina single round. He thought as he stood up and left the establishment without even saying anything to the manager, whom he had just accused of cheating. Before even reaching the castle, he ran out of ale and felt nothing much could go wrong, until he realized he had to ready himself for tomorrow's dinner with the Winslow Barony. That's tomorrow's issue to endure, he thought. Once back in his room, he drank himself to sleep a lot earlier than he had anticipated when he initially set out to gamble.