Grumbling under his breath, Benjamin entered the living room to face his father.

"Father, I've returned."

The duke, seated in the place of honor, regarded Benjamin silently. Not a hint of warmth graced his features, only a glimmer of reproach that set Benjamin's nerves on edge.

What in the world had happened?

Benjamin had carefully studied the memories related to his father, Claude Lither. The man was head of the family, a duke of the realm, and occupied a position of utmost prestige among the Horian Kingdom's aristocracy. A staunch traditionalist through and through.

As a dyed-in-the-wool noble, Claude held fast to the old ways. Loyal to crown and church. Prideful of his blue blood and the chasm it carved between himself and the common man. Obsessed with reputation and appearances, clinging to the tattered remnants of nobility's bygone glory. In short, the man was a hopeless relic, his thinking mired in the prejudices of a feudal past.

On a personal level, Benjamin's father was as warm and nurturing as a block of ice. Laughter lines were a foreign country to the craggy landscape of his face. As a patriarch, this translated to a draconian parenting style. He heaped expectations upon his sons' shoulders, and when Benjamin inevitably buckled beneath the weight, it tarnished the family name. Small wonder he never spared the boy a kind glance.

The most scathing indictment Claude could level at his firstborn was… utter indifference. Perhaps he'd simply grown weary of trading barbs with a brick wall. Scolding and cajoling in equal measure, yet never making a dent. At some point, he threw in the towel and washed his hands of the whole sorry affair.

And yet, even with a lifetime's worth of disappointment simmering in his gut, even with the mere sight of Benjamin stoking his ire, Claude was not a man to indulge in fits of temper. The undisguised fury sparking in his eyes now only surfaced when the boy truly transgressed.

But what, pray tell, was Benjamin's crime?

Quite the puzzler, that.

"It was him! Last night, this whelp assaulted me with… with that vile receptacle!" Out of nowhere, the unfamiliar blond youth shattered the suffocating stillness. He jabbed an accusatory finger at Benjamin's nose, his voice quaking with righteous indignation.

If anything, this outburst left Benjamin even more baffled.

"Who in the nine hells is this clown?"

Benjamin held his tongue, but shot a mental query to the system, hoping for illumination.

The system promptly obliged. "Hm… that would be Dick Fur, if memory serves. You know, the poor sap you drenched in shit when he was sleepwalking last night?"

Benjamin blinked, taking a closer look at the young man's face. A flicker of recognition stirred. Come to think of it, that upturned snout was a dead ringer for his mysterious nocturnal visitor. Amazing what a difference the absence of fecal matter could make. No wonder he hadn't twigged at first glance.

A wicked impulse flared. He desperately wanted to deadpan, "Terribly sorry, old chap. I hardly recognized you without that fetching mask of excrement." But he tamped down on the urge. Now was scarcely the time for quips, not with the tension hanging so thick in the air.

At long last, the full shape of the predicament swam into focus. Milord Dick had graced their humble abode yestereve, only to succumb to a bout of somnambulism. As fate would have it, his midnight meandering had led him straight into the path of a freshly-roused Benjamin. One thing led to another, and the poor bastard caught a face full of chamber pot for his troubles. Understandably miffed, he'd dragged his esteemed pater over to raise hell and demand satisfaction.

Oh, this was going to be a right knobstick, no question.

Dicey as a game of Liar's Dice, this one.

Sensing the winds shifting out of his favor, Benjamin elected to hold his peace. Best not poke the beehive. Bowing his head with a touch of youthful sullenness, he settled for awaiting his father's judgment.

Alas, the Duke's forbearance was in shorter supply than piss at a garlic munchers' ball.

"Benjamin, is this how we comport ourselves as hosts? Have you taken complete leave of your faculties?" Each word dripped with bitter gall, devoid of even a morsel of fatherly clemency.

Benjamin loosed a weary sigh in the confines of his skull.

He'd long since gleaned that Claude was not a man to play favorites when it came to blood. But to see him closing ranks with an outsider so readily… well. It certainly clarified where Benjamin ranked in the grand scheme of things.

In truth, it seemed rather par for the course. From what he'd pieced together, these highborn types were a far cry from the clannish dynasts of the East, forever warring amongst themselves. No, they swanned about with the blessings of the Church, all smiles and cordiality, never a cross word between the lot of them.

Charming, in its own bloodless way.

Without the luxury of his kin's protection, Benjamin found himself caught squarely in the crosshairs. Not so much a family spat as an outright broadside from all fronts.

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He was, in the parlance of his misspent youth, well and truly buggered.

Right. Enough woolgathering. Time to grovel like his life depended on it. Which, in all fairness, it very well might.

"My good man! The fault is mine alone! I acted without thought, and for that, you have my deepest apologies! I pray you'll find it in your heart to forgive my dreadful lapse in judgment!"

Even he himself could feel just how convincing his acting was at this moment.

He had really developed some thick skin.

He thought it through clearly: rather than letting Claude force him to apologize to these people, it was better to take the initiative and say it himself first. It would both improve Claude's impression of him a bit and avoid letting the Fur family gain an inch and take a mile. He believed that as long as his attitude was perfect enough, the other party wouldn't be able to find any reason to give him a hard time.

Just as Benjamin expected, upon hearing his "sincere" apology, a hint of surprise appeared on Claude's face, and his raging anger subsided slightly.

After all, Benjamin's current behavior was much more mature than the "him" from before. Of course, no one found it strange or thought of absurd things like transmigration. In the eyes of the Lither family, this was how Benjamin should have been all along. They only thought it was too late for him to change now!

Claude's harshness could be temporarily defused with an apology, but as the victim of the "chamber pot incident," Dick Fur's anger wasn't so easily quelled.

"Forgiveness? Just like that? Dream on, buddy! Not happening!" Dick's attitude was as unyielding as a boulder.

Even the system chimed in with a bizarre quip: "Yeah, if sorry was enough, we wouldn't need the cops, right?"

"…"

Benjamin ignored the system's unhelpful commentary and turned to Claude. The duke seemed disinclined to intervene, apparently content to let the youngsters hash out their own beef.

Left with no choice, Benjamin addressed Dick directly.

"Then what do you want?"

Dick fixed him with a withering glare, his face a mask of haughty disdain. With a derisive snort, he spat through gritted teeth, "I want to pay you back in spades for the humiliation you dealt me!"

As he spoke, he produced a chamber pot from beneath the table like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat.

"…"

Benjamin's expression darkened like a thunderhead.

Playing the choirboy and swallowing his pride was one thing. No skin off his nose, and deep down, he still thought these plebs weren't fit to shine his boots. But if they seriously expected him to take that foul receptacle to the face, well… that was a bridge too far.

"…Keep dreaming, pal."

Even with his saintly forbearance, a man had his limits.

Dick exploded like a powder keg, howling in fury. "I knew it! That apology was a crock of shit! You never meant a word of it, you lying scumbag! Dumbass! Waste of space…"

Benjamin's patience snapped like an overstretched rubber band. A lifetime's worth of digital duels and internet flame wars came roaring to the surface, a legion of trolls possessing him in an instant. He wasn't in this fight alone.

"YOU'RE the fucking waste of space! Creeping around scaring folks in the dead of night, squealing like a stuck hog! What kinda twisted wet dream got you so worked up, huh? Where do you get off preaching at me? Eat too much crap and now you're talking out your ass? Watch out, a pigeon might mistake you for a toilet and shit you to death!"

"Why, you little…! You've got some set of balls, shit-talking me!"

"You took a bath in manure and you're scared of a few choice words?"

"I'll end you!"

"Bring it, dipshit! I'll rip out your tongue and stream that shit live!"

"…"

According to an eyewitness who wished to remain anonymous, the scene quickly spiraled out of control.

"I was shocked. To think that the lives of nobles were no different from us common folk. When angered, their insults are just as crude and unimaginative," the unnamed witness recalled, shaking his head in disbelief.

And indeed, it was just as he said. To the slack-jawed astonishment of all present, Benjamin and Dick's war of words escalated at a breakneck pace, a cavalcade of unprintable vulgarities spewing forth. The situation galloped out of control like a rabid, shit-spraying horse.

At long last, Claude stepped in.

"ENOUGH!"

A lion's roar of fury finally brought the verbal bloodbath to a screeching halt. Both sides withdrew their forces, lowering their banners and sheathing their blades. Only the crackling intensity of their hate-filled glares remained, clashing in the air between them.

Benjamin felt a twinge of regret… but also a deep sense of smug satisfaction.

Alas, that regret would soon swell to staggering proportions.

"Are you quite finished making asses of yourselves? Benjamin, has all your book learning leaked out of your ears? Brawling like a gutter rat in front of our esteemed guests… have you taken leave of your senses? If you can't abide by the rules of this house, then get thee gone from my sight!"

The barrage of admonishments took the wind out of Benjamin's sails. For a dizzying instant, he was transported back to his boyhood, feeling for all the world like a mischievous urchin being lambasted by his irate parents.

The specter of his fractious past reared its ugly head.

"I…"

Under the weight of those old, familiar feelings, he instinctively wanted to defend himself, but was cut off without ceremony.

"Oh? You dare try to justify yourself? You've dragged the Lither family name through the hogwash with your antics! Tell me, how am I to face the other nobles of the capital now? What will the esteemed members of the Church think of this folly?" Claude's anger showed no signs of abating.

Benjamin promptly clamped his mouth shut, not daring to utter another word.

In a situation like this, anything he said would only add fuel to the fire, convincing Claude of his rebelliousness and immaturity. Better to meekly hang his head and weather the tempest of his father's ire.

Besides, he'd gotten his licks in and tanned that backward fop's hide but good. That alone was worth it.

At that moment, the other unfamiliar middle-aged man chose to interject, attempting to placate Claude.

"Now, now, Duke Claude. No need to get your knickers in a twist. The scamp seems properly chastised to me.Let my boy settle the score and we can put this sordid affair to bed, sweep it under the rug before the gossipmongers catch wind of it."

The system helpfully provided an introduction: this was Axe Fur, patriarch of House Fur and Dick's father.

As an earl of the realm, the man was renowned for his slipperiness. With fingers in every mercantile pie and the king's favor firmly in his pocket, he was all smiles and bonhomie, eyes vanishing into folds of flesh when he grinned.

In a situation like this, he was the only one who could get a word in edgewise.

Though he seemed to be pleading Benjamin's case on the surface, Benjamin had no intention of thanking him. “Let my boy settle the score”… at the end of the day, he still wanted Dick to crown Benjamin with that thrice-damned chamber pot.

The whole bloody family was rotten to the core.

And yet, Claude's response once again left Benjamin gobsmacked.

"If that will put this wretched business to rest… then so be it." After a moment of heavy silence, he regained his composure and spoke those damning words.

Dick's eyes gleamed with sadistic glee, clutching the chamber pot to his chest like a doting mother with a newborn babe.

"Welp, looks like you're about to be crowned the 'King of Crap'. Tough break, my dude." The system piped up, its tone so flat it was impossible to tell if it was gloating or commiserating.

Benjamin's face turned a delicate shade of pea soup.

This was unacceptable. Absolutely, positively, unequivocally UNACCEPTABLE!

Put down the potty and let's use our big boy words…