Inauguration I

14 Years later, in a hallway of a South-East-London mansion, a dark-haired woman impatiently tapped her foot on old wooden floorboards. “Bene, we will be late,” Radella’s voice carried up the stairs. “Will you give me a minute?” Bene replied, irritation vibrating every word. He hurried down the stairs, skipping several steps just to come to a stumbling halt in front of his mother. “Lord give me patience,” Radella said, looking up to the ceiling. The old ornated ceiling gave nothing away, having seen far worse behaviour in its lifetime. “You do understand how important today is, don’t you? You would embarrass your father and brother to the core if we were to arrive late.” “My brother couldn’t care less if I turned up on time or not,” Bene huffed. “You look nice, mum,” he relented, trying to appease his mother. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she remarked suspiciously. Radella’s tall body was draped in a long black silk dress. Over the dress, she wore a wide band of silver metal over a black bolero jacket with a long fringe stretching across both arms. Sat in the middle of this band was a circular brooch showing a golden anchor in an emerald circle. Underneath hung several silver chains with different small ornaments. Attached to the largest and lowest hanging chain were six filigree silver spheres, about the shape and size of figs. Covering her long shiny mahogany hair was something in between a bonnet and a large hairband. It was embroidered with dark green, silver and golden leaves. Her ceremonial clothes were called a Puku.
She pulled on her son’s suit and shirt, in an attempt to straighten out a few creases. His silk suit too bore the silver and golden leaves but in a much larger fashion. They spanned across his shoulders and around his cuffs. His silver cufflinks resembled small anchors in a circle. “Now, enough with the flatteries. We need to leave, the cab is waiting,” she declared.
Bene slammed the front door of Nelson House, his home, and hurried after his mother across the wet front garden. Just as he shut the cab’s door, a light drizzle began to coat the windows of the car. A broad smile spread across his face. “You can hardly blame your tardiness on your skills, Bene,” Radella said, raising her eyebrows unimpressed. 

The car took them across London to Millbank, where it stopped in front of a neatly chiselled-out 19. Creme-coloured stones made up the facade of the neoclassical building. Bene looked up the six stories. The cumbersome fortress would devour him any second. His life would not be the same when the building would spit him back out in an hour or so.
Today was an important day for Bene. He knew that. He had been restless and above all nervous, which he would never have admitted to his mother, of course. Why, he didn’t quite know. Today was, after all, first and foremost, a ceremonial act, a tradition. The real work would begin next week. Then he would have to prove that he was worth carrying his father’s name. His father’s expectations were incredibly high. Not only because of his father’s status in the Society. Unlike his brother, he had inherited his father’s gift. He would follow in his father’s substantially large footprints as a feeler. And after the upcoming summer, he would be graded for the first time. There were a lot of eyes on him from here on out. And some of them did not wish him well.