Chapter I
"Arthur… I'm declaring independence."
I lifted my head from the cup of tea I was sipping. My green eyes met my brother's baby blue ones.
"I'm sorry. What did you just say?" I asked him.
"I'm not your baby brother anymore. We're not even real brothers," Alfred said, his eyes got a hard, blazing look on them. "Hence, I'm choosing liberty. I'm gonna be off on my own from now on."
I blinked, unable to comprehend his statement. "But… Why..? What had I done wrong?" My brows furrowed, my heartbeat started to escalate. Suddenly, the room in which we were in felt colder, as if the season changed abruptly from summer to winter.
"It's not about you. It's about me," Alfred's jaw hardened. "I'm sick of being treated like a little baby. I wanted independence to choose my own way."
I froze in my seat, stiff as stone. My mind was wrecked by a tornado of grief and confusion. This can't be… I thought desperately. My little brother, my Alfred, suddenly declaring that he didn't need me anymore… The truth was too hard for me to comprehend.
"I can't let you go. You're my right-hand man," I said finally, my voice shaking a little.
"You can always find another man for that job," Alfred pointed harshly, his expression hardened.
"Look, Al… Can't you think about it again..?"
"No," he cut across my plead.
I sighed heavily. Half of me wanted to plead more, to beg from my knees. But the other half, the more logical one, pointed out to me that it'll be no use to plead, and I simply had to take the safest means of security. I rummaged the pocket of my coat, and pulled out my gun. It's a beautiful gun, stolen from that wine – bastard years ago. It was a vintage, with a wooden, beautifully carved handle and a dark colored iron barrel. I flicked it forward and pointed it straight at Alfred.
"Then I would have to shoot you," I stated coldly, although I felt immensely heart broken by the act I'd have to do. "You know too much about us. I can't ignore the possibility that you might leak that information to an outsider.
He looked taken aback. "You know fully well that I won't ever do such a thing," He scowled. "I haven't forgotten the oath I've made back then."
Seeing him scowling like that, it reminded me of myself four years ago, when I rebelled from that wine – bastard's control. I was about fourteen years old at the time. The symmetry of the two events caused floods of memory to my mind.
I bit back my retort to Alfred as the memories from the past started to invade my mind.
"Aaaaarthuuuurr~!!!" The high pitched call echoed through the grand French-styled mansion, effectively disturbing my 'sacred' activity.
"I'm coming!!" I screamed back frantically as I stood up, my hands pulling my pants back to where it was supposed to be.
I flushed the toilet quickly, and I ran as fast as I could, out from the luxurious bathroom. My fingers fumbled desperately with the clasp of my belt, trying to fasten them fast enough to prevent them from sliding down my thigh.
With the speed of an antelope, I bolted through the empty corridors filled with grand paintings and exquisite crystal chandeliers. Occasionally, I ran past a maid or two, all of them saying the same thing: "Mr. Kirkland, Lord Bonnefoy had requested for your presence…"
"I KNOW! I KNOOW!!" I screamed back at them, my mind grew more and more panicked. The bloody mansion was incredibly large; I swear it was almost two kilometres from one end to another. Finally, I stopped in front of a grand cherry wood door engraved with intricate carvings. The door led into the bedroom of none other than Francis Bonnefoy, my dim-witted, lust – driven mentor. I sighed deeply and turned the handle of the door, and the door swung open, revealing my half naked mentor.
"Mon cher Arthur! What took you so long?" Francis started to fret, racking on my nerves.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I was at the bathroom," I explained, biting back the desire to scream at the underwear – clad man sitting on an antique sofa in front of me. My eyes flicked sideways, to the grand canopy bed on the other side of the room. A girl appeared to sleep on it. Aww, not again…
"Now, mon cher. Pour me some wine. My arm hurts," Francis commanded. His hand pointed to a bottle of wine on top of the antique coffee table tight in front of him.
I trembled with rage, blood flooded my face. Painstakingly trying to control my anger, I walked through the elegant bedroom. With every step, I cursed myself for my stupidity, for having this sexual harasser as a mentor.
By the way, my name's Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. I was thirteen years old, and I was born in the island of Stronoway, in the far north of The City of The World. I had two brothers and two sisters back there.
I left my birth town when I was about twelve, sick of the decrepit living there. I moved to the downtown area of the city: Auxevilla. I moved there to achieve my dream to be a gangster. I've heard, back then, about an amazing gangster here in Auxevilla. His name was Francis Bonnefoy, and I was planning to force him to be my mentor.
My first year in Auxevilla was completely awful; I was so poor that I can barely have three meals a day. But mostly, what made me sick was not my poor lifestyle; it was how I was so different from everyone here. As a Northern-born guy, I inherited spectacular eyebrows that always caught people's attention, a distinct accent, and an unusual vocabulary.
Then, a few months after my first year, I met my soon-to-be-mentor.
It was a dark night; cloud covered the vast sky, blocking the moonlight. I dragged my feet through the quiet streets of Novoro, completely worn-out. I was doing two jobs in a day, one was at a grocery store, and one was in a small restaurant. I hadn't succeeded in both, considering those two jobs required a lot of patience, while patience had never been my forte.
I stumbled through the empty streets, wanting to go home to my decrepit apartment as soon as possible. I was unable to afford an apartment in Auxevilla, so I had to afford one in Novoro instead. Novoro, although it was located right next to Auxevilla, was anything but glamorous. It was a big region, but mostly it was filled with industrial buildings and warehouses. Hence, the cost to afford an apartment there was about half the cost to afford an apartment in Auxevilla.
While I stumbled across the deathly silent street of Novoro, suddenly I heard sound of a gunshot piercing through the night. My head jerked up in surprise, and I looked around to find the source of the sound. Around me, abandoned warehouses and closed stores seemed to be as silent as before, but the gently blowing wind sent chills across my body. I shivered, fear started to occupy my mind.
Then suddenly, the clouds broke apart, revealing the previously concealed moon. Its pearly ivory light illuminated my surroundings and suddenly, a woman dashed through the roofs of the warehoused. Her hair was long and silky, the color was an impossibly rich brown, and a single blooming flower was pinned to the right side of her fringe. She wore a medieval – styled gown and some armour to protect her body. As if to complete her bizarre appearance, she was holding a pair of frying pans.
As she dashed with an unbelievable speed through the dense roofs, I noticed that somebody was chasing her. It was a man, with shoulder length wavy golden hair. Almost as elegant as the woman, he jumped from one roof to another, his hand held a vintage-looking gun. Suddenly, he flicked it forward and pointed it to the woman.
He almost pulled the trigger, if I hadn't pulled my own gun and shot it to him. It was a cheap old fashioned gun, yet somehow it managed to hit the man's hand.
"OW!!!" The man screamed in pain, blood spurted from his injured hand. He dropped his gun to one of the roof, and then he spun in his place, trying to find out who shot him, his dark blue eyes darted to every direction. Then, suddenly, he spotted me down here, stood still holding my pathetic little gun. Meanwhile, the beautiful woman had escaped. The man, realizing that his prey had escaped, turned to my direction, his eyes filled with rage. And suddenly, to my horror, he jumped down the roof and started chasing me instead.
Realizing the sudden threat, I shoved my gun back to the pocket of my worn out jeans, then I started to run. I clenched the handle of my backpack tighter, and I dashed like an antelope through the labyrinth of warehouses and abandoned buildings.
I was an ace sprinter, and I can run twice as fast as anybody I know, yet this man seemed like he had triple my stamina although he's not as fast as I am. Although I was ahead of him at first, after awhile my stamina started to ran out quickly and he caught up in a shockingly short time.
I realized that I had to stop running, unless I'd want to collapse out of fatigue and got killed like an insect. I stopped immediately, the soles of my shoes screeched on the concrete. I darted into an empty warehouse beside the street. I slipped inside, and I closed the door quietly.
I stood still as stone inside, hiding in an empty wooden cabinet beside the door. I panted slightly, sweat trickled down my cheek. Outside, I can hear the man walking on the hard concrete. Suddenly, he opened the door to the warehouse, and my heart jolted as if electrocuted. I held my breath and tried to be as silent as possible. I could hear the man pacing through the empty warehouse, occasionally stopping here and there. Then, suddenly, he stopped right in front of my cabinet.
To my greatest horror, he wrenched the handle of the cabinet, and he yanked the doors wide open, revealing me inside.
"Now, mon cher. I'm sick of playing hide and seek, so let's finish this, okay?" The man whispered, his eyes flashed dangerously. His hand reached towards me, and started to grope my clothes.
I blushed hard upon the touch, and I tried to fight his hands. Yet, I was just a thirteen years old boy, and this man must be at least ten years older than me. Besides, physical combat was never my forte to begin with. Easily, he stopped my struggle and grasped my hands firmly. He reached one of his hands to my jeans.
I clenched my eyes shut, but it turned out that he was only pulling my decrepit gun from my pocket and examined it carefully. Meanwhile, I felt immensely relieved, for I was thinking that the man might be a molester or something like that.
"My, my. How nostalgic," The man smirked as he tossed my gun from one hand to another.
I blinked. "Wha… What..?"
"Standard GM Pistol, 9 mm semi-automatic. Twelve round magazine, short range, and minimal recoil, I take it?" The man recited in top speed.
I don't understand what the hell he was blabbering about, so I merely nodded. My mind was still in the state of shock, so I could barely understand the situation. One moment this man looked like he was about to molest me, the next he was examining my gun? What the hell was happening in here!?
"This was the same kind of gun as the one I used back when I was young," The man gazed to the distance with an air of reminiscent. "Back when I wasn't Le Très Bien Francis Bonnefoy."
Francis Bonnefoy..? Now, when did I hear that name before?
"Now, mon cher. What's your name?" The man exchanged his smirk with a more serious expression. His hands were still toying with my decrepit gun, though.
"Arthur… Arthur Kirkland," I choked, my cheeks blushing slightly.
"Well, then! I shall remember you as the kid who managed to shot Le Très Bien Francis Bonnefoy and made him lost his délicieux prey!" The man declared with a flamboyant air. "Not many people were able to shoot moi, and none of them were as young as you are! You ought to be proud of yourself!"
Then, something clicked in my mind. Francis Bonnefoy was the gangster I was going to force to be my mentor!
Immediately, I jumped out of the cabinet. "You're Francis Bonnefoy!?" I exclaimed with excitement.
"Umm, oui?" said the man tentatively, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Would you be my mentor!?" I requested, my excitement mounting.
"Pardon!?" The man blurted incredulously, shock etched upon his face. "You want ME to be your mentor!?"
"Yes! I've been looking forward to find someone like you to teach me!" I've forgotten all forms of manner and started shouting.
"Teach you? About what exactly!?"
"How to be a gangster, of course!"
The man's jaw dropped wide open. His eyes widen upon hearing my statement.
"Now, now, wait a moment! You think moi is just some kind of a private teacher you can call whenever you wanted to!?" He scoffed, his lips curved into a mocking smirk.
"Aww, come on! I've come this far from Stronoway to be a gang-"
"Pardon? Stronoway?!"The man's face grew more and more surprised. "That island way up in the north?!"
"Yeah! So-"
"Wait. I have to think a little," The man lifted his hand to stop my blabber. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.
Obediently, I sat on the edge of the cabinet I've been hiding in until just a minute ago. I couldn't stop fidgeting though. My entire future, no, my whole life depends on this Francis Bonnefoy's decision. If he agrees to take me as an apprentice, well, my future can't be any more guaranteed. If he disagrees, well, I'll beg him until he either take me in or kill me out of irritation. While I fidgeted, I noticed that the man was staring at me with the most peculiar look on his face. It was a mix of speculation, longing, pity, desperation, and… greed..?
"D'accord! I shall take you as my apprentice," The man smirked the most suspicious smirk I've ever seen in my life. Yet, in my excitement that day, I didn't care about it at all.
Now, I cursed myself for my pure idiocy. If only I knew what kind of torment I'll went through when I start my training, I'd definitely run away screaming when I saw Francis smirk like that. I didn't know the real meaning behind that smirk back then.
A day after that disastrous night, I moved from a decrepit apartment in Novoro to the grand mansion of Bonnefoy, where that smarmy git lived. One night I was sleeping on the sofa in my leaked sitting room, the next I was lounging on a luxurious loveseat in my new lavish bedroom, complete with a plasma TV, built-in home theatre, and a few bottles of wine.
Too bad, though, that I couldn't enjoy my luxurious accommodations in any ways. Straight from day one, I've been Francis's full-time skivvy. I've been forced to fetch wines, deliver packages, contact gang members, arrange appointments, et cetera, et cetera. At the end of the day, I'll slump on my King plus plus plus sized bed, too tired to enjoy any of the entertainments in my bedroom.
And what made it worse was the fact that anytime I entered Francis's bedroom, either to deliver an important document or simply to deliver freshly laundered clothes, there'll always be a girl inside. Sometimes, it was one of the girls from his legal collection of numerous girlfriends, sometimes it was a random girl he picked up somewhere. Hell, it was so bleeding freaky to caught your mentor – mentor, for God's bloody sake! – banging on a girl! One time I actually caught him doing it when I was delivering a random note from one of his gang members. I stood still for a moment in front of the open door; listening to various suggestive sounds issuing from the grand canopy bed. Then, I ran away screaming like mad.
Tonight was actually the tenth time I've spotted a girl in the past two weeks. Somehow, I've managed to control myself whenever I witnessed the display of Francis's barmy attitude.
"Maybe I've gotten used to it," I thought glumly as I poured the requested wine into an empty glass on the coffee table. After I filled it to the brim, I shove it into Francis's awaiting hand.
"Merci, mon cher," Francis winked his usual smarmy wink. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
I was about to walk out when suddenly he called me back.
"Attendez, mon cher!"
I turned around to face him. "What now?" I groaned weakly.
"Now, mon cher Arthur. How long have you been in here?" He asked, setting down his glass of wine. His expression was getting serious.
I straightened up my back and said, "About two weeks now, Sir." My heartbeat started to escalate.
"I've watched you in the past two weeks. I've asked you to do many things and go on many errands," Francis said, his expression casual. "You may think I didn't see, but I've watched you grumble, groan, and sigh."
"I didn't…" I stuttered; my heartbeat thumped faster and beads of sweat started to trickle down my forehead.
"Merely a statement, mon cher. Détente," He said lightly. "Besides, the important thing is that you didn't quit. You didn't run away when you faced a challenge, and that proved your seriousness, which I've doubted before."
My face blushed viciously, and my heartbeat relaxed slightly. I huffed gratefully, my stiff back relaxed. "Thank God," I whispered audibly.
"Starting tomorrow, your training will start, and you shall receive a new name," Francis stated, taking his glass of wine and sipped its content.
"Name?" I blinked confusedly.
"Yes, it's a kind of a codename. What your comrades will call you when you work with them," Francis explained. "Everybody who will enter the world of gangsters for the first time shall receive one."
"Now, mon cher. Return to your room and have some rest; you'll need a lot of energy for tomorrow," He continued, smiling slightly as he sipped more of his wine.
Thankful for the dismissal, I muttered some unintelligible words and dragged my feet out from the grand bedroom, closing the heavy cherry-wood door behind me.
A/N: This one's got one hell of a long story, so just be patient for it. Got the idea after l listened to Viva La Vida by Coldplay five times non-stop (love the song ;p). It'll progress quite fast, actually; it's just that the plot is quite long and a little bit complex ==" Anyway, review please! And I'll be grateful if you point my mistakes on grammar and stuffs :3
Oh, and some translations stuff!
Mon cher = my dear
Le Très Bien = The Fabulous
Délicieux = delicious
Merci = Thanks
Attendez = Wait
Dunno if it's right. I've never learned about French before, so feel free to correct me if there's any mistake.