Without a second thought, Zechariah passed the basket to one of the plebeian children at the door, not noticing that a couple of still-ravenous kids had already nabbed loafs. After all, the passing out of food was servant work. Ignoring the bloodthirsty fight that immediately ensued in the doorway, he strode in not unlike their mayoral father often did to town hall: confident, cocky, and ever heads above it all.

Figuratively. Most of the brothers had gotten their mother’s side’s impressive height.

Unsurprisingly, Zechariah wrinkled his nose in disapproval as he looked about – though he still looked low-key delighted to be witnessing The Poors in their natural habitat.

“What is that smell?” he idly answered instead.

Even though it was not nearly as rank as the courtroom.