Dear Diary,

Been thinking about what Saffron said yesterday. There's layers to that shit. Some of them I'm cool with, others I think maybe I need to work on myself a little. Maybe a lot. The weird thing about it isn't even that I'm six kinds of fucked up like I normally might be.

So, like, the first layer is the whole 'it costs nothing to be polite'. Which is horseshit, but like a lot of popular horseshit, contains a kernel of truth to it. Like, almost all the 'polite' things are little gestures, simple extra words, maybe even facial expressions. 'Please', 'thank you', 'you're welcome', shaking somebody's hand, smiling when you meet somebody. All of those are simple little things. In terms of social battery expenditure, they're almost free. Almost. That's the key word. Almost. Yeah, if somebody's in a position like me where they're functionally wealthy, with three different bedrooms across three different buildings, completely extraneous yet tasty and nutritious food available whenever I feel the need to indulge, and the ability to straight up create anything I want if I put my mind to it, those little things might as well be free.

But now flip that script a little. Picture somebody who never knows if they're gonna have an actual meal with real food, a struggle meal of ramen and water, a real struggle meal of saltines and free ketchup packets, or just enough water to keep their stomach from hurting so bad they can't sleep. Somebody whose landlord can't be bothered to fix the roof or plumbing or black mold infestation in the walls, who had the cash to afford a lawyer to put all the fancy fine print in that says they don't have to do any of that, which might be technically illegal but let's face it, the cops won't be kicking in any landlord doors any time soon. But that same landlord will be right there with the lockout lock if rent is a day late, even if that's illegal too, but again nobody gonna be enforcing those laws deep in the hood. Somebody working three jobs, and not in the 'three job titles for eight hours of actual work a week' three jobs, but 'ninety minimum wage hours a week total, because no minimum wage job will risk having to give benefits'. Somebody way out there on the raggedy edge, who spends every bit of their social battery not beating every entitled bitch of a customer to death when they accuse them of being lazy because the store doesn't stock the particular brand of quinoa they want.

Yeah, that person might not have the social battery to say 'thank you' or 'please' or 'you're welcome' when they're not at work. Or to say 'I love you' to their kid on the rare occasions when their paths cross. I'm not even getting into all the assorted bullshit of minorities who are expected to play nice and smile and suck it up when some jackass starts spouting slurs. Just pointing out that being polite does cost something, but, and here's the important part, I am in a position to pay that price. To pay it without thinking about it to everyone I come across, whether that's being polite to an asshole like Cadet Citron, saying 'please' and 'thank you' to my Murder Mittens when she's bringing me dinner, or clothes, or paradigm altering orgasms, or telling my kids 'I love you' at every possible opportunity.

Another part of it is something one of my teachers back at Eastside told me once. Apparently one of the things you gotta do to be a teacher there is 'continuing education'. Like, at least a college course every year. That means some of the teachers who'd been there a while had some pretty wacky lists of degrees. Some of them even focused and got their doctorates. The guy in question hadn't, but he always called them 'Doctor'. Seemed really weird, so I asked him why. He said that he wasn't impressed by the brains it took to get a doctorate, because some of the subjects aren't all that hard, or at least he didn't think so, but the sheer determination to keep focused on a goal that big was pretty fuckin' impressive. So he called them 'Doctor' as a sign of respect for that determination, for that accomplishment.

I guess me calling duBois 'sir' is a little like that. Even if Phileo City is the pinnacle of technological and social development here and now, when I got here it was still kind of shit. I mean, bleeding edge technology included 'flush toilets'. Stack on top of that the Academy training, which is just kinda beastly. Yeah, I managed to test out of some of it, but I survived enough of it that I'm never gonna disrespect the accomplishment of finishing it. Like, I may think Lachlan only has two brain cells when he's got custody of the one he and Carruthers share, but that doesn't mean he's not an absolute badass. I've seen him cleave someone crown to crotch one handed, which is not exactly easy to do. So yeah, unless I'm close enough with them to use their first name, or some kind of friendly nickname, I'm gonna give anybody who's gotten props from the Academy, or going forward I guess the Alliance Academies, the respect of their title, whether that's 'Hero', 'Senior Cadet', 'Cadet', or even 'Freshman Cadet', because not everybody makes the cut, and stepping up to say 'I wanna live at the sharp end' is at least worthy of a little bit of respect.

So yeah, I've got the position and power to have politeness be a negligible cost to me, and I want to give respect where it's due. I'm cool with both of those things. But, and I really hoped I'd gotten past this, but here we are, there's one more big aspect to it.

I'm me. The kid who nobody wanted. The kid who started shit in school just to have someone pay attention to me. The bitch who was perpetually excess to needs. Intellectually, I get that people look up to me. I mean, even physically I get it, because big chunks of them literally Worship me. When you get the warm fuzzy tingles so hard that your hair starts to glow, it's a pretty good sign that people hold you in high esteem, I guess. So intellectually and even physically I get it, but emotionally is another story. I had over a dozen formative years of being raised by the television and teachers because my mom was too buys. I had at least half a dozen of my sister blaming me for everything from my mom dying to her own shitty love life. I grew up in a town where every single kid there knew, somewhere deep inside, that if we died not too many would mourn our passing, and even the ones who did wouldn't do so for long, because that shit will kill you in an environment like that.

I've... gotten better, I think. I'm not healthy yet. I'm not sure how long it will take before I can even say everything's healed over. Because that's one of the things that happens with old, ingrained scars like this; they only start healing when something pulls them open, forces us to look at them. In this case, I can't even complain too much about what's done that. Because it's my family. Not my mom and my sister, but my family here. My wife. My Concubines. My kids. Them just... loving me has picked at those scars, and me wanting to reciprocate in a healthy way has done for the rest, so now I've got all these psychological weeping wounds. The really fucked up part is that I think I'm healthier now than I was before. Like I'd been stumbling around like some kinda hunchback with crooked bones, and I had to break them again in order to get them set straight or some shit.

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So... yeah. I instinctively assume that anybody with anything like gravitas is somebody I ought to be saying 'sir' to. Because obviously gutter trash like me is supposed to do that.

I mean, there's also the entire 'you say sir to cops and officials because you're disposable and if you don't they'll dispose of you', but I think I'm actually mostly over that one. Something, something, something, I've got the fuckin' Big Red Button, my only concern in a pissing contest is whether I'll accidentally drown somebody I give a shit about.

Speaking of people I give a shit about, I almost forgot that I'd planned a big outing for the kids today. Fortunately Saffron is my own personal Thinking Brain Human, and after rewarding me for displaying humility above and beyond the call of duty, she reminded me that we had to be home early to make things happen.

Arrived home to find Tallulah already there, and all the kids gathered around her. She looked more than a little swamped, really, even with a pair of Marie standing there at the outside of the crowd. I walked over, wading through the persons of diminutive age until I could give her a hug. "You okay?"

"This is... I am anxious regarding the visit."

"Anybody giving you any shit?"

She snorted. "Not directly, although those who have always preferred to play little political games are having a field day now."

I nodded. "You want me to come along?"

She frowned. "I'm... uncertain."

I smiled. How about I be subtle about it? Just to keep an eye on the kids?

That would reduce my stress, Goddess.

So I wound up pushing my Blend to it's upper limit and following Tallulah, the kids, and Marie down to Rich Man's Port.

Dinner was a little sparse, like I remembered seeing through Karen's eyes, but not quiet or restrained in the slightest. Tallulah looked... disturbed, but not upset, if that makes any sense.

The Overlord's Keep didn't have indoor plumbing, so it was back to a simple bathing tub and lots of kettles of hot water for bath time, but Isnomi absolutely had a blast with that, and the other kids followed her lead. They all piled into Ria's bed, which was a simple full sized thing that barely had enough room for seven kids all piled on top of one another. Marie curled three of herself up around the sides, and I stayed up just kind of patrolling the room. Got a good look at it while I did, and wound up more than a little sad.

She had a single armoire with half a dozen outfits, all but one identical cut down versions of her mom and sister's formal court outfits. That one looked like fencing padding, and while the buckles were worn, nothing else was. Almost like somebody had put it on and taken it off a lot, but never actually used it.

One wall had four paintings; Tallulah, Cailyn, Lindsey, and a fourth who I assumed was Adrienne. Adrienne's wasn't half bad, but I could clearly see how she'd been the first, then Cailyn, then Lindsey. By the time she painted Tallulah, it wasn't quite photorealistic, but it had to be as good as any portraits I remember from the Art Museum.

The other wall had a set of shelves with a dozen carefully placed knickknacks, the kind of things you'd pick up visiting somewhere. A spearhead. A chunk of dull gray metal. A single piece of what looked like rock candy. A conch shell.

Marie? She opened one eye. Let Ria know that we can help her bring any and all of this stuff up to the Homestead if she wants it in her room, okay? She nodded.

In the morning, and I used that term loosely, everybody breakfasted with Tallulah, and again things were on the sparse side. Like, half an apple, one slice of what looked like French toast, and one strip of bacon. Like, really well done bacon, but still one slice.

Mittens? Did you make the breakfast?

Yes. Holy shit I'd never heard her that sour before.

Tallulah decided on the menu?

Kitchens.

Tell you what, we'll take the kids home after lunch.

Before. I chose not to argue with her.

But before that, the kids, four of Marie, and four of Tallulah's Bodyguards trooped out to the stables. With Ria in the lead, they didn't have to go through any of the weird back corridors Karen got dragged through, nor did we see any of the lesser Fae. Just straight out the main doors, turn to the right and head to the stables, where seven Fae Steeds stood. They perked up, in the sense of big cats seeing the keeper coming with lunch, when Ria stepped into view. Then they all froze, eyes going white around the edges, when Isnomi followed her into the stables.

Gotta say, they were the most well behaved quadrupeds I'd ever seen. Okay, they didn't so much 'behave well' as 'resemble inanimate objects', but they did so even when the kids got a wild hair up their ass and had Marie lift each of them up onto a Steed's back. Then, miracle of miracles, they all walked calmly out of the stables, a sedate procession of tiny riders on scary Steeds. They walked all the way down to the docks, Marie and a Bodyguard in front, a similar pair in back, and another on each side. I think the single most hilarious part of the whole procession was the response of the Rich Man's Port natives. The obvious Fae, Sidhe included, all did the 'doff cap, take a knee' thing as they passed. The humans looked like they might treat the kids like they would any other rich kids in the area, robbing them blind of everything including their freedom, if they could get away with it. Then the smarter ones picked up what the local Fae were putting down, and convinced their fellows to back the fuck down.

When they all got to the docks, they rode to where the Questing Tentacle was still berthed, and Admiral Pesce actually came out and greeted them. I'm pretty sure it's because he's a nice guy who's good with kids, but I would be just fine with him being not stupid and aware of whose kids these were. Which, just in case anybody had any doubts at that point, when they got to the end of the dock where they could see her, Isnomi pointed at the Black Dragon and crowed out, "thath Mama'th thip!"

Fortunately Fae Steeds do not swim.

By the time they got the Steeds back to the Stables, it was time for lunch. We bid Tallulah farewell, then hopped all the kids back to the Homestead, where Marie gave them a 'proper' lunch, which is to say she kept the food coming until the kids decided to imitate hibernating bear cubs.

I dropped my Blend, put on the black and white dress and apron, and helped her. Well, I served anyhow. My cooking skills still aren't anything I'd subject someone to when Marie is an option.

Of course, right as they all got stuffed and sleepy, Ria had to drop a bomb on me, with Menace waiting in the wings to firebomb the first responders. "Mama, may we bring the Steeds here? I think they would enjoy being ridden through the forest far more than living in the stables most of the time."

Before I could say yes, no, or what the fuck, Ria, Isnomi swallowed and chimed in, "we can bring them back after we have a sleepover on your ship, Mama!"