Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Black Lagoon, nor has this story been written for any commercial purposes. The rights of the original work are held by Rei Hiroe, Shogakukan, Inc., Geneon Entertainment and other respective companies. Should any of them demand so, then this work of fanfiction will cease to exist.
Still Life
By Moonlith
With the sun yet to be risen, the vast corridors were dark and enveloped in shadows. A lonely figure roamed the desolate hallways, one by one removing the shutters from the windows. As dawn was only moments away, the sky was already illuminated with a cold and pale glow. But as light is always followed by shadows, it was all that was needed for the frames of the now exposed windows to cast their dark reflections on the floor. Then the light came. All of a sudden the eastern sky was as though in flames. When the disk of the sun was halfway above the horizon, it's orange and yellow fire claimed the sky as the spear like rays shot in all directions. Slowly the light brought into view a scene filled with a myriad of low and green hills, fields, and winding roads, all stretching so far as to suggest they continued all the way till kingdom come. At the last the sole autocrat of the area and also the most evident work of human hands in its magnificence was revealed; an immense structure of a mansion. And there, on the topmost storey of the building, the newborn morning was greeted with a pair of stone cold eyes of the only one awake and alert at the early hour.
Completely disregarding the natural performance playing before her very eyes, the vast mansion's only maid going by the name of Roberta turned away from the window.
Continuing on with her route, she soon came to a halt in front of a door that led to one of the bedrooms of the gigantic complex. It was time to wake up the Young Master. Raising her hand, the maid placed three delicate yet firm knocks on the door. Of course, this was but an automatic and formal gesture of respect, for it was not to be expected the young occupant of the room to be awake and thus allow her entry. After a moment of wait, the silence of which proved the maid servant's logic hypothesis to be true, Roberta switched into action and enclosed her hand around the doorknob. Upon hearing the ever so slight creaking noise that the aged piece of metal gave under the tender twist of her hand, Roberta couldn't hold back a small grimace. Such clamour she would never allow herself to make in normal conditions, but determining that the cries of a lifeless object were beyond her control, she quickly decided to let it slip and entered the Young Master's room.
As expected, the entire room along with its sovereign were still in the deep slumber of the night. The windows that dominated the wall opposite from where Roberta stood were completely hidden behind the curtains. Thus the only source of illumination in the room, besides a few scarce rays of sunlight that crept through the sides of the windows, was the tiny gap between the curtains. But despite even this, the maid, with her keen and very well honed eyesight, could make out each and every dark and vague object in the room for what they really were.
On the left side of the room the most recognizable of all was the extremely extensive bookshelf, which housed volumes of books of many educational areas such as history, religion, geography, biology and other natural sciences. Together they formed the most essential source of general knowledge and sophistication for the Young Master, which was an ironclad quality for one such as him, who was destined to hold a position of high rank in the future. Rising from the floor right next to Roberta was a medium-sized wardrobe, which contained all the Young Master's clothing for casual and festive occasions alike. On the floor in front of the wardrobe and the sizeable bookshelf was a small table and a set of chairs. An old-fashioned abacus, which the growing youth used for his mathematical studies every now and then, was lying on the table. Besides educational use, the abacus was sometimes applied for the simple joy of playing. Or at least whenever it was safe for the youngster to do so without getting caught and lectured for indulging in such a childlike practice, that is. Underneath the table and the chairs was a small carpet of bright colours, which was in high contrast with the otherwise clinical grey walls of the room. The only thing worth of note on the right side of the room was the Young Master's desktop, which was decorated with a large writing pad showing a detailed map of the world. Adding to the items of garnishing was the poster that hung on the wall above the desk. It showed a Chilean bellflower with acute anatomy descriptions in Latin
The Young Master himself was situated in the bed right in front of the windows. The placid rise and fall of the small form of the young boy indicated that the maid's ingress hadn't been nearly enough to shake him from his sleep. Of this Roberta was both happy and a bit resentful, for now she would purposefully have to disturb his dreams herself. Proceeding to the bed, the maid regarded the sight of the sleeping boy. Garcia Loveless, the boy of whom she had long since begun to use the title of Young Master, was in sound rest underneath the blankets of the shade of the night. Roberta couldn't hold at bay a small smile that furnished her lips when she saw a small trickle of drool that distilled from his mouth, lining his cheek and creating a small stain on the pillow. Finally resolving not to hinder the task of waking him up any further, Roberta reached over the bed to draw the curtains gently aside.
With the sudden increment in the amount of light, the angelic face of the young boy began to stir immediately. Soon his eyelids started to flutter open, revealing to the world a pair of rich hazelnut eyes, which were full of life and boyish mirth. When Garcia Loveless noticed the one who had awaken him, his face lightened up instantly in even greater joy. Slightly flustered as he was by the maid's closeness, the boy did not fail to wish her good morning in a cheerful tone.
In that moment the impassive eyes and calloused features of the maid melted into a genuine and warm smile as Roberta returned the boy's greeting.
"Good morning, Young Master"
--
Garcia Loveless, the only son and thus heir apparent of Diego Jose San Fernando Loveless, the head of one of the most influential and prominent noble families in South America, broke his fast in a comely atmosphere. It was late in the morning, and the heat of the scorching southern sun was slowly starting to build up outside. Garcia watched as the stark rays of sunlight now assaulting the room in full force through the windows made visible the countless microscopic motes of dust in the air. Accompanied by the lukewarm heat of his bedroom, the dull exhibition was steadily weighing his mind back into a dreamlike state from which he had been once already awakened from that day. Garcia made no opposition, however, but opted to let his thoughts wander on the many adventures and exciting events that the coming day might hold instead.
At this point, though, Garcia had to pull himself back a little. Being the only heir of a noble family didn't equal an easy life, not even for a child. An aristocratic family background, or any other dominant position at that, didn't bring pressure only upon the adults that held them, but upon their offspring as well. Thus it came to pass that for his forthcoming post, Garcia had to likewise undergo a laborious preparatory program. This included various educative activities from studying with books to physical exercise. And so, short-handed as the Loveless household might have been with Roberta as the only maid and Diego as the current leader, they had not been idle in devising the young Garcia a strict schedule for his training. This in turn meant that Garcia's days would usually, like this one, consist of minutely designed routines without much deviation. This, however, didn't manage to dampen the boy's humour in the slightest. For a noble child or not, Garcia was still a child, and thereby possessed the constantly high spirits and devoted enthusiasm towards learning and experiencing new things every day, of which the youths of his age were prone to be known.
The delicious and full odour of freshly brewed tea was what finally attracted the Young Master out of his reverie. When the misty haze of his daydreams had cleared out of his eyes, Garcia found himself facing the familiar form of Roberta, who had in short order become his favourite and almost only companion in the vast mansion. She was wearing her usual maid apparel, which was composed of an apron on top of a black smock, a headdress cladding her hair and a pair of white gloves enshrining her slender hands. The only ornamental accessory, a golden cross, hung loosely at her breast. A round silvery tray that the maid was holding carried an additional cup and a small teapot, which Garcia quickly identified as the source of the pleasurable smell. For a moment Garcia regarded her in awe, for Roberta had mastered to enter completely without his notice. Of course, Garcia didn't look upon this as unwelcome, for he always considered Roberta's presence, sudden or not, a pleasant surprise. Besides, the fact that she had thrived to come in undetected spoke favourably of her competency in regards of her other job evaluation as Garcia's personal bodyguard. For some reason, though, the boy didn't like to think about that aspect of her too much. But even after considering his close relationship with Roberta and the more severe side of her, Garcia couldn't help but wonder if he sometimes unwittingly hurt the maid by his usual and lackadaisical absence.
"Pardon my abrupt intrusion. Might the Young Master want another cup of tea", inquired the maid in her standard monotone and quiet tone of voice.
"Yes, please", exclaimed Garcia, who indeed did feel like having another serving of the savory beverage.
Immediately proceeding to execute the boy's will, Roberta walked up to him with few soundless and evenly landed strides. Bending over to refill Garcia's cup, the maid was careful not to spill a drop nor pour over the rim. Completing this, Roberta straightened herself again and resumed her motionless and stoic position beside the boy. Garcia knew she was only doing her job, but well bred with compassionate manners as he was, he couldn't help but feel agitated at the image of him quietly relishing over excellent tea all the while letting someone else just simply stand beside him and watch as he did so. But most frequently he and Roberta weren't alone, there was another one among them; Diego Loveless. And with his years at the upper end of the social standing, he was in the mind that his son should learn to act as one who was above others. This prevented Garcia, who couldn't and didn't want to understand the reason behind his father's words and often felt the temptation and had the will to defy them, from asking Roberta to sit down and share the moment with him. But now they were all by themselves, with nobody else around to scold Garcia for his unconventional demeanour. Inspired and encouraged by this, the youngster mustered up his courage to propose his long suppressed wish.
Upon seeing the quizzical look on her master's face, Roberta didn't delay in asking if he was in any need of something. Receiving a positive answer in the form of a nod, Roberta instantaneously prepared herself to fulfill any command he would assign her. The words that followed, however, took her by surprise.
"Would you please join me for tea?"
After Roberta had taken a few minutes to decide whether she had heard the boy correct, she had to sacrifice a few more in serious consideration of the request. A bit dazed as she was, Roberta had to agree that it wasn't entirely unexpected of the youth to give such an application. Roberta knew she had somehow long ago gotten to the boy's good side, but laying such an open and friendly invitation before her was something akin to a novelty. She wasn't sure though, given her leading role as the Young Master's bodyguard, should she be so reckless as to let her guard down even for a brief moment. Seeing the expectant and sanguine look on the boy's face, however, she ultimately decided to cast her most extreme caution aside for the occasion in order to humour her master. Furthermore, in the unlikely event that an outside attack would befall them, sipping tea couldn't possibly prove to be a fatal distraction for her superb reflexes to defend the Young Master and herself, Roberta deemed. Perhaps the caffeine in the tea could actually even help to push her level of vigilance even further. Reaching in her calculations the conclusion that the grounds for declining were well on the minor side, Roberta promptly switched into obedience.
As the maid quietly placed the tea tray on top of the table and arranged for herself the extra cup, which was originally meant for the case that Garcia's original one should by some mishap have been rendered unusable, Garcia understood that he had indeed managed to realize his will. Consequently, when Roberta drew a chair and organized herself into a sitting position, she was greeted by a beaming smile of the Young Master from the opposite side of the round stand. Roberta, on her part, now found herself seated at the table with a full cup of tea of her own in front of her. With no plausible reasons as to why she should refrain from tasting the drink any longer, Roberta brought the cup to her lips and let the warm substance of soothing light brown colour caress her senses.
"Is it good", hurried the Young Master to query the moment Roberta lowered her cup for savouring the first sample.
Deliberating upon this, Roberta discerned that the tea did offer its own pleasant testimonial. It had a warm and detectable, but not too strong nor acrid taste to it. Finding herself engaging in nothing but positive thoughts over the drink, Roberta gave her reply in a single affirmative nod.
As Garcia now saw that the pleasure over the moment was mutual, the heartfelt smile continued to reside on his visage and the boy for his part nodded in agreement. Roberta wasn't the most talkative person, Garcia knew, but he was perfectly happy with it so long as the person who he liked and had wanted to share such a minute with was also enjoying herself. With both of them satisfied, Roberta for her unexpected and early break in her work and Garcia for being able to bring at so early a point such a drastic deviation to what he at first had though to become just another ordinary day, the pair continued to sit the morning away in content silence.
--
With the silent and blissful atmosphere and time with Roberta in the morning gone, Garcia now found himself at the start of the longsome circuit that was his daily routines. The first stop, as usual, was at one of the mansion's large study rooms.
Garcia was by no means ignorant about the significance of scholarship. On the contrary, by surveying his father's transactions Garcia had grown to learn at a very young age the merit of high sophistication. In the world of nobility, where constant rivalry and struggle for dominance defined the daily order, appearing to one's advantage was of the utmost importance. Knowing how to converse soundly and behave appropriately often determined, whether the others felt like they should make acquaintance with you. This in turn became an important factor in terms of bonding future alliances, which commonly came in very convenient because of the security and backing insurance for possible ulterior violent quarrels they assured. For grand families' inner politics, certain areas of teaching were often of special relevance. Knowledge of one's own family history, for one, was always the first and foremost principle for the crescent august youth. By teaching the sometimes propagandistic versions of past deeds of the kindred, the family imperators instilled the love and loyalty they wished to see into their scions.
Although oblivious to some of the motives of his heavy compulsory education, Garcia had nothing in particular against spending several hours each day inside the house with books. He understood well enough that it was required in his future profession, and could thereby undertake it with a given amount of pride. And so he now found himself lying on the study's floor, on which a large and soft carpet ensured his comfort on the otherwise bruising surface. An open book of mathematics was laid before him, and a deeply furrowed brow, intense gaze and the constant gnawing of the tip of his pen marked his evidently troubled countenance. Garcia was an equally gifted learner in most subjects, but even he had his strengths and weaknesses, as he now bitterly discovered while desperately trying to solve the math problem at hand that proved to be of most troublesome sort.
"Are you having some difficulties? Can you not figure out the answer?
The inquiry of his father Diego Loveless, an aging man of stout build, came from the corner of the room. The head of the house Loveless had taken on the custom to regularly inspect his son's studies in person, and today was no exception. Accordingly he had manned his usual post in the comfortable armchair in the corner of the room, from where he carefully scrutinized the progress of the young Garcia. After catching the apparent discomfort of the boy, he had decreed to enquire if something was of especial anguish for the youth. Garcia, on his part, couldn't deny his appreciation for the momentary ease his father's interruptive words brought to the mathematical maze he was tangled in. No sooner had he uttered the words of gratitude in his mind, however, when he was faced with a new problem: how was he exactly to disclose that he was at a loss of answers in front of a single calculation? For although Diego wasn't exactly the most brawling of educators, Garcia still hated to bring even remote disappointment to the man. All his fears were soon dissolved though, as the man continued to speak in the warmest of tones without waiting for Garcia's vocal answer:
"It is well. Just keep looking for it, and you will eventually find what you're desiring for. So it is not only with keys to studying problems, but with everything else in life as well. When you have arrived with an answer you think to be correct, come to me and we shall check it together. After that I might have a story to tell you.
Hearing this, Garcia's spirits were lifted in the eyes. With newfound vigour and determination, he focused all his concentration in dissolving the mathematical knot. And well he did, for when the gears in the mind of Garcia Loveless were set into motion, no answer nor solution could hope to hide from him for a time too long. Hence, much sooner that he would've expected, Garcia contrived to come up with something he was fairly confident in. With a triumphant smile on his face, the youngster took the notebook to his father for inspection. Soon the correction of his solution was successfully verified, and Garcia rushed to pick up his textbooks and take them back the shelf to their respective place. When this was done, he yet again resorted himself into a comfy position on the smooth and warm mat and succumbed to listening as his father began his tale.
Not in any way could Garcia be described as a person who was especially fond of violence, very much the opposite in fact. He preferred a quiet family life such as the one he was leading now, and felt undisguised hurt whenever he had to see the people dear to him waging in weapons. Nevertheless the stories of his father's bygone experiences, all the hard dealings with other noble families, violent disputes over both unimportant sounding matters as well as abominable assaults with other gangsters and survival stories of close call situations infatuated him to no end. They stimulated his hormones the right way and helped his young imagination to take flight and rise to higher spheres like never before. Because of these tales he could absorb himself into the suspenseful ambience they contained, and at the same time be free of the dread and danger that the actual situations were in truth full of. As for Garcia's father, the sole supplier of these fantasies, he believed that they provided his son an ideal role model and a perfect image of an adventurous future Garcia could hope to pursue one day. Although Diego was well aware that his son's interests did not lie in rough-handed dictating, he still hoped that through his encouragement the boy would adapt the crown of the Loveless family as a solid goal to set his mind upon.
On an on Garcia listened, until the spell was broken at unawares with the tinkling sound of slivering that came from outside the room.
"And that must signal the time of our lunch", murmured Diego, who guessed correctly that while setting a table for the two of them outside in the garden, Roberta had accidentally broken something.
--
By categorizing Roberta as a cumbersome character one would without a doubt find himself in the wrong soon enough, for the truth was entirely the opposite. Through the various an innumerable formats of training she had gone through in the past, her physical and mental scores were of the highest quality. But this very day though, it appeared that the one time when such merits took the unexpected turn against her had come. As the maid was dutifully making the lunch preparations for the Young Master and Diego Loveless, she suddenly caught suspicious movement in the corner of her eye. In an instant Roberta had dropped her maid servant's facet, along with which she unfortunately had to let go of the tray that supported several fragile items. The sacrifice, which Roberta made while adapting to her combative side, was rendered negligible as she proceeded to draw an instrument of much more avail from the confines of her robes. Namely, a gun. Now fully equipped and in her best mode of combat, Roberta wasted not another second but lunged forward to seize whoever the perpetrator was that lurked in the shadows.
But, as it has already been said, on this occasion the maid's instincts guided her for the worse, to her long lasting embarrassment. For now she found herself holding down with a firm grab one very frightened and abashed Lazlo, a dog by the race of Volpino Italiano. The pet of the family, that is. Thus, when Garcia chose that very moment to enter the site of actions, he had the most unusual and uncanny sight to fix his eyes upon. For a moment he couldn't do aught but stand as if rooted on the spot, eyes filling with growing dumbfound. Even Roberta, who by praxis was fairly capable of maintaining her wits at the face of bizarre events, had to blink twice before the situation dawned to her in full. Once the brief ripples of shock had gone by, however, Roberta regained her composure as quickly as it had fallen for the short twink. Slowly she released, to the dog's eternal relief, her iron grip from the animal and rose from the floor with an utmost tranquil while delicately sweeping the dog hair out of her garments. Giving a slight bow in pardon, Roberta bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken dishes.
No sooner had she began this, however, when Garcia was on the floor by her side and ready to help her. As much as Roberta recognized the boy's gallantry, she still took Garcia's actions as very unwelcome at this time. The pride for her profession as a maid, as well as the stature of her past, absolutely demanded that she should be granted the authenticity to clean up the mess she had created all by herself. As if in an answer to her inward plea and the problem that she couldn't possibly in her position protest against the Young Master, Diego Loveless, the current head of the house, made his entrance and instructed the obliging youth:
"Garcia, come. Let Roberta take care of it."
It took a while for Garcia to digest the meaning of his father's words, but when he did, the utter look of confusion on his features was quickly replaced by anger. Anger which only lasted for a vanishing moment, for Garcia understood that he would gain nothing by causing a scene over the matter. So he chose to act along his father's words instead, once again silently detesting the idea that he should look down upon someone only because of the code of conduct. Wondering if he could somehow make up to Roberta, Garcia moved on outside to the garden with his father.
When Roberta had erased the messy product of her earlier plunder, an action which took so little a time that Garcia almost fancied there hadn't been any broken vessels at all in the first place, the three only residents of the enormous manor soon found themselves in its equally monumental garden. The table around which they were now gathered had been set underneath the canopy of a nearby tree, which endowed them an excellent shady refuge from the burning midday sun. Diego and Garcia had just delighted in their lunch, and now Roberta was serving the two Loveless' the afters. Now the elder nobleman was savouring a cup of coffee to meet his acute tastes, whilst Garcia was respectively downing a healthy glass of refreshing raspberry juice in a frugal pace. Roberta, in turn, had retreated to other duties, and now she was watering the flowers close by. She made sure, however, to remain well within earshot in case the two sires required anything of her. Garcia, his stomach now full and a glass of ice cold and delicious drink at his disposal, lapsed into a mode of deep languid. As the arduous warmth slowly cradled him into oblivion, Garcia took one last look at his surroundings to capture the beauty of the garden into his mind. Closing his eyes, Garcia began to savour the image from within the darkness and exploited the otherwise sharpened senses it provided.
From an ornate fountain nearby, the tender and soft purl of brilliantly shimmering water emanated to Garcia's ears. Together with the gay chirping of the birds flying merrily in the trees it composed an excellent soundtrack for the junior's stream of thoughts. Flowers of every colour, from the most lucid amber to the deepest purple, flourished in numerous beds and tinted the view with the most stupendous palette that nature could forge. Amongst the honeybees that flew to and fro collecting the nectar of these plants, other more and more spectacular insects flapped their magically transparent wings of beauteous and varying hues. This fluttering movement, of which each spreading of wings unveiled their true artistry in full, created an illusion of countless of pairs of ceaselessly opening and closing eyes. It almost seemed as though the dwellers of the garden were under the surveillance of a supreme entity, which only added to the otherworldly atmosphere reigning in the yard. All the bushes, trees, flowers and other plant life of the orchard emitted a sweet and affluent aroma into the air, through which it was borne to grace Garcia's olfaction by the warm and gentle afternoon breeze. As if in a grand conclusion, at each corner of the garden stood a magnificent and tall palm tree. They were an ultimate enclosure to the other flora, serving also as a towering landmark that displayed far and wide. Indeed, the garden was like a trace of Eden itself captivated inside the estate's deep walls.
A tickling and wet sensation in Garcia's left hand shook the boy from his dozing, which he only now noticed he had inadvertently been doing. Opening his eyes, he found the source of this sped onset to be the work of the white-furred Volpino Italiano, who was eagerly licking his hand. Now Garcia remembered, indeed, that it was nigh the time of the dog's usual daily walk. Since the afternoon had progressed a good way with the slowly upcoming evening haunting the most uncomfortable heat away, the weather was becoming more tolerable by the minute. Adding the matter that the lunch he had eaten had left his body with renewed energy, supported by the short nap that had animated his mind, the idea of some exercise began to sound quite inviting. As Garcia couldn't think of any better way to fill his own daily quota of physical education, it was decided then. Garcia asked the maid to accompany him, and soon the pair, followed by Lazlo, departed for the surrounding countryside beyond the mansion's thick walls.
--
Because the roadways crisscrossing the plantations that encircled the mansion of the Loveless family were most of the time desolate and free of heavy traffic, Lazlo the dog was granted the freedom from all restraints like collar and leash. This appeared to be very much to the dog's liking, for now it was enthusiastically scouring the waysides, exercising its superlative sense of smell and otherwise delighting in its liberty to the fullest. But despite the dog's nearly indiscriminate personal joy, it did not set aside its unstudied instinct to stay by the side of its master. Thus the dog remained within agreeable vicinity so that neither he nor his masters had to worry about the other. Garcia and Roberta, on their part, had chosen to walk in silence. The afternoon was growing older minute by minute, and the sun that was slowly starting to depress towards the western horizon gave birth to shadows ever longer and deeper. Garcia's slight nervousness over the intimacy of the occasion was betrayed by the intermittent movement of stuffing his hands in his pockets and at whiles the kicks he absently gave to any haphazard stone that crossed his path. Roberta, in turn, was pacing the speed of her steps to match that of the Young Master, her face as stoic and vacant a mask as ever. Even the look she held in her eyes was shrouded in mystery, for they were hidden behind a pair of large and round spectacles that she always wore on her countenance.
Suddenly Garcia came to wonder the reasons for his anxiousness. All was exactly as it should be. From the small houses and cottages nearby a bit further to the side of the road on which they were walking, remote and muffled clamour could be heard. It was due to the workers who had just returned from their labour from the numerous fields that surrounded the area. Now it was time for all the families to gather together for a joint evening meal. The commotion they created was a sound of mixed noises of jingling cutlery, clatter of each one drawing a wooden chair for themselves and a horde of blithe human voices as they assisted in boisterous conversation to share the experiences of the day. And lastly and most importantly, Roberta was there by his side. Just like she always had and, as Garcia secretly hoped, would always be. Had she ever laughed at him or dismissed anything he had to say as childish and meaningless? As Garcia understood the answers to these questions to be negative before he had even had the time to really ponder on them, he rebuked himself for having felt such incredulity and trepidation. With his newly found confidence, Garcia ventured to start up a discourse with the maid about the issue he had wished to address for a long time.
"Hey Roberta", he began, pronouncing her name aloud to make sure he had her full attention. When Roberta had given her verbal confirmation by voicing the Young Master's name in turn, Garcia chose his next words carefully:
"What are you planning to do once you leave the service of my family", he asked, barely managing to keep his voice casual and even. After he had mouthed the words, though, he felt immediately relieved and more calm for finally having made the ultimate effort to obtain the answer to the question that had been twirling in his mind for so long.
Roberta had to seriously contemplate this. When she had a long time ago been in deep trouble, a rich man by the name of Diego Loveless had at the last possible moment come to her aid. By agreeing to take her into his service as a maid, he had secured Roberta's immediate safety and near future employment. But ever since then no words concerning her further options and courses of action had been discussed. Deeming that it simply meant her fate was as of yet open and undecided and she would thus for the time being continue her path as a servant in the Loveless family, she reached her conclusion and gave her reply:
"I do not know."
"Oh, but surely you must have some kind of an idea. I mean, you cannot just leave without knowing where to go next, now can you", queried the boy, a bit surprised that the ever so punctual maid did not have a crystal clear mindset for what she would do when her duties in the Loveless mansion would expire.
Perceiving that the youth obviously hadn't understood the submarine meaning of her words, she made it blatant:
"As of yet, I have no intentions of leaving the Loveless household at all."
"R-really? Well, I'm glad to hear that. I'm not saying that I wouldn't think you deserved a better job, I mean, but you know..." Garcia couldn't keep the slight stammer and trailing off out of his words, so excited he was over the revelation. So it would be just as he had for so long hoped in secret; Roberta had always been, was at the moment and for the time being, would continue to be by his side for yet a long time. The jolly turmoil of his thoughts was all of a sudden disrupted as Roberta unexpectedly continued her speech:
"The job I have within your family is nothing I consider as ignoble or something I would be ashamed of. On the contrary, your family has been very kind to me, and working for you has been an honour."
Garcia was rendered aghast by this. It was rare an occasion that such an afflux of words should be heard from Roberta's mouth, not to mention the startling content of them at this time. However, Roberta's initiative in conversation was everything but unwelcome for Garcia, and he wasn't in the mind of letting the opportunity to continue his prolonged talk with Roberta to slip away at any cost. Therefore, he moved to articulate his astonishment:
"Do you think so? But sure it must be hard; with the way my father treats you sometimes and all."
"There is nothing wrong in the way your father interacts with me. It is the other way round, your father's remarks and instructions have been of great aid in my work. They help me to improve and understand better what is expected of me. I am a servant, and a servant's job is to serve well, is it not?"
The undisputable logic in the maid's words and the convincing way in which they had been said left Garcia for a moment at a loss of an answer of his own. After a brief pondering had not brought any new ideas to his mind, he eventually decided to give his hesitant agreement and state his personal opinion at the same time:
"Well, I guess you are right. But I still don't like it."
"Perhaps it would be good for the Young Master to start to learn and act with the ways of a noble man as well", Roberta offered. However, after soon seeing the evident anger that suddenly clouded the boy's features and which looked like it would soon erupt from his mouth in the form of a protest, Roberta hastened to add:
"But your concern makes me feel good."
Whatever it was that Garcia had been about to say, Roberta had succeeded in preventing it. For in that instant, the quick fury that had for a moment managed to contort his otherwise easy and beautiful countenance reverted back into an even warmer and more pleased smile than usual. He nodded, and in an abrupt inspiration, quickly sprung a good way ahead of Roberta. He didn't run too far though, and after a while he turned on his heels, waved merrily at Roberta and pointed towards a large hill a little way aside from the road. Comprehending the meaning of his sign, albeit a bit confused she was, Roberta lifted the hem of her long skirt to allow herself better movement and ran after her young master.
After the rapid sprint to the top of the hill was over, both of them sat down exhausted on the grassy ground. Or rather, Garcia did, for Roberta appeared as if she had done nothing out of her normal endurance. When seeing that his companions took a sudden flight, Lazlo had not failed to follow them suit and now he had nestled against the cool sward for a rest. Gasping for deep breaths, Garcia finally contrived to even out his respiration and allowed himself to drift off in front of the landscape that spread before his eyes.
The hill atop of which they sat was very large and stood afar off above the town. Starting from right underneath them, rows after rows of columns of smaller fells and moors slanted steadily down, not ending until barely before the very outskirts of the hamlet. Down in the village, thin wisps of smoke could be seen rising from the countless chimneys of the houses. Their homely smell, carried by the wind, reached Garcia's nose all the way to the distant hill he and Roberta abode. The evening had began to close in on the lands for real, and the setting sun painted the sky with flaming colours of orange, red and blue. The shadows extended their limbs everywhere, and in the forest that grew right next to the road from which Garcia and Roberta had but a moment ago deviated, total darkness had seized the highest command. The Volpino Italiano of white coat did not bother to share the general serenity that predominated on the hill, for he was happily chasing after the various insects that had their dwelling upon the fell, jumping about as cheerfully as always.
Finally quitting his gaze from the spectacular view, Garcia only now noticed that there was growing a single tree on the very same hill he and Roberta were sojourning at. Surprised as he was, he was even more so when he saw that at the root of the said tree a bundle of beautiful flowers was blooming. For a moment Garcia was contended in just admiring them, when out of the blue he was struck by an uplifting inspiration. Rising from his spot, the boy walked over to the tree and crouched to the ground. The quiet evening had entwined even Roberta into a dreamlike tranquil, but the fog in her mind was dissipated as she was aroused by the sudden movement of the Young Master. As the boy was now positioned so that only his back was facing Roberta, the maid couldn't decipher what he was doing. Roberta debated whether she should interfere with his actions, but since there was no one else in sight besides the dog and the two of them and the boy didn't stray too far but remained well within eyeshot, Roberta ultimately decided against it. As she no longer had to worry about the question of security, an odd sense of curiosity, which Roberta was rather unfamiliar with, started to take hold of the maid and she continued to observe.
At last Garcia rose from his bent posture and started over to Roberta. Now the maid found herself face to face with one Garcia Loveless, whose cheekbones glowed in the slight shade of rosy red and who was timidly holding his hands behind his back; a sight which Roberta regarded as utterly perplexing. Her confusion was deepened even further, however, as the boy presented his request:
"Would you close your eyes and give me your hand, please."
Now Roberta was completely lost as to what aims or intentions the boy could withhold in his mind from her. Not finding any reasons to decline and at a loss of means how to unfold the absurd mystery she had ended up in, Roberta elected to obey the polite command. During the next few moments the maid could feel occasional and tender touches at his right wrist, which led her to the sensible speculation that the target of the Young Master's operation was her right hand. Whatever it was that the boy was performing, it didn't require very long a time. In consequence, the permission to open her eyes again was granted to Roberta sooner than she had expected. And as she did so, her eyes were soon beholding a new accessory on her right wrist. It was a bracelet which was made out of a single yellow wood anemone. It was formed so that the stem encircled her wrist, while the flower itself was on top. When placed together with her white gloves and long white sleeves, the yellow flower appeared as if a separate golden button at her cuff. It was beautiful. But before Roberta could say this, or anything else in response to Garcia's gift, the Young Master made an announcement that it was getting late and the time for them to go back home had come. Agreeing to this, Roberta rose from the grass that was starting to get colder in the sunless evening, and the two them, soon followed by Lazlo, descended the hill back to the road and began their journey home.
--
During the lengthy travel back to the Loveless mansion, the events of the long, vivacious and hectic day had finally started to take its toll on Garcia. At first it had displayed through Garcia's gradually slowing pace. For a while Roberta settled for aligning her own progression so that she was at all times right at the side of the boy. Soon, however, it seemed that the youngster's batteries had been emptied completely, for his pace grew to that which resembled a crawl. When this started to become an eminent hinder to their advancement, Roberta at last tactfully moved to ask if the Young Master required any assistance. The answer came in the negative, for the stubborn youth shook his head and told her it was nothing he couldn't overcome. But it wasn't long, though, when the boy's head began to nod and his already arduous walking morphed into incoherent stumbling. At this point Roberta made the audacious but necessary decision to ignore any and all gainsay the boy might present, although he was too tired to mutter a word. She then bent down and took the boy into a pick-a-back, carrying him thus the rest of the way.
When the pair finally arrived back at the mansion, the night had already draped the lands into its darkling cloak. The blazing glow of the sky was distinguished, and the majestic domain was now kindled with the distant and cold embers of the stars. At the entrance of the mansion they encountered Garcia's father, who, after seeing the totally subdued state his beloved son was in, let out a soft chuckle and smiled affectionately at the two them. He welcomed them both warmly back home, and Roberta in turn gave her greeting in a simple lowering of her head. When the formalities were done for, Roberta ensued to take the Young Master to his bed while Diego desired to stay awake yet for a while and enjoy the cool wind of the night in the garden.
As Roberta had in due course laid Garcia on his bed, it was at last the time for the maid to see to her own evening chores as well. At the very first she descended downstairs and sought one of the mansion's cleaning closets, where she arranged all her maid garments. As she one by one placed the items into the stowage, she stole a quick glance at the lifelike handcraft that Garcia had given her. An inaudible sigh escaped her lips. Certainly, it had been an adorable gesture, there was no denying that. But the flower would soon wither away and die, leaving behind nothing but a fleeting memory of an ephemeral and solitary sign of compassion. For a short moment Roberta wondered if it wouldn't be better to cast away the poor stalk of grass at once, but for the cogent fatigue that the late hour pressed upon even her, she chose to leave it for another time.
After changing out of her working attire, there was one more task the maid had to perform before she could retire to rest. Soon she found herself standing at the threshold of the mansion's largest living room, to which it was the usual end of her routines to give a final check. Carefully she at first let her gaze wander throughout the chamber, searching every layer and object under her stringent scrutiny. But no matter how hard she looked, nothing out of the ordinary could be detected. Not wanting to leave anything at wanton, the maid walked across the ample space for more accurate inspection. Completing this and ascertained that everything was in due order, she was ready to quit her duties for the day and allow herself a brief recharge for tomorrow.
Then hen her eyes met the mantelpiece of the chamber's fireplace.
Like the toppings of such pieces of furniture usually are, the mantelpiece of the Loveless family was likewise devoted to a multitude of framed photographs. As much as they were customary adornments, so was the content of them. Pictures showing relatives, friends, close business associates and other traditional characters, pictured in equally conventional settings from personal birthday banquets to superior jubilees of massive crowds. There was even one snapshot with the three of them shown together. It was a standard family portrait, with Diego sitting legs crossed in the middle. To the right of him, Roberta was producing the standard pose of a maid servant with her arms stretched downwards in front of her and linked at the hands. Lastly, the Loveless Junior, Garcia, stood at the left side of his father, wearing his incessant smile and holding the white hairball of the name of Lazlo in his arms. A handsome rose bush dominated the background.
All these pictures reminded her. Reminded her of a picture that was not at display on the fireplace of the living room, nor was it standing on any table or cupboard anywhere else in the house either. A picture which she slowly pulled from the concealment of one of her pouches and brought it to the field of her vision. Thus Roberta, Rosarita Cisneros by the name of her past, which she had for so long banished into the darkest and uttermost corners of her mind, once more beheld the photograph she had hoped would never have been remembered and sent back to haunt her again. Unconsciously Roberta took seat from a nearby armchair and surrendered herself to the sombre musings of dark deeds done and gone.
In the picture, an ill-fated group of tragic destinies was posturing. Their faces were grim and rough as if carved out of stone. Their eyes were filled with murderous determination and challenge, as if screaming an oath and daring anyone to stand in their way and defy them. With furrowed brows and lips tightly pressed together, without the slightest suspicion of a smile, they lade undisputable stress on the gravity of their cause. In their hands they were rigidly grasping the means for their ambitious and gore-filled objectives; a set of firearms to suit the requisitions of revolution. One of the funereal antiheroes was bestowed the honour of holding the symbol of their beliefs in the background; a large banner showing the emblem of Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia. And at the front of the picture was Roberta herself, the face of which her current family had come to learn as blank and placid overshadowed with the same spite and menace as those of her erstwhile brethren.
Yes, she had been one of them, the dreary warriors of hapless fortune, as much victims of false assertions and doomed aspirations as they were oppressors of those who they annihilated in the hopes of achieving their topmost priorities. For the faith and credence she felt for her account she had killed countless of men, women and children, both from the ranks of bureaucratic enemy leaders as well as among the masses of bystander civilians. Much she had killed, and by killing, she had robbed. Besides the innumerable potential lives she had snuffed out, she had bereaved the joy and delight that their existence had inflicted in the lives of their families and loved ones. And by this pillaging, she had pushed the hideous branches of her terror and devastation even further. Because now not only were the dead the sole associates of the irreversible damage, but it also spelled the misery of those whose lives were that much emptier without them.
But all this was right by Roberta. No matter how high the piles of the dead grew, so long as Roberta kept in mind that they were only the imperative evil, the only possible paving and the lone satisfying sacrifice to the altar of revolution. As long as she managed to block everything else but that very mantra out of her mind, she could justify her actions and feel pride with ease. But the more was the time that these works of butchery continued to be done without any genuine results following, the less was the truth with which the shallow words of endorsement rang in her ears. When she at last in time came to realize the falsehood of everything she had believed in, that there was no revolution and that the commanders she fought for were only as corrupt as those she had eliminated as her foes. Of course, it was already far too late. The dead did not come back to life, the years wasted in slaughter and in the training for it were not restored and although the healing of time had forgiven the scars of the body, those of the mind could never be forgotten. Bloodhound of Florencia she was called, and now only all too well did Roberta understand the penetrating reliability of the epithet. A truly infamous hound she had been for the even lowlier policymakers by whom her own judgement had been blinded, and the smell of blood that was never to be washed away continued to linger in her hands.
"Roberta?"
Shaken from her nightmarish memoirs, the said maid flashed her eyes open to find a worried looking Garcia standing a few paces from her. She had been completely engulfed by her lugubrious reminiscences without quite even knowing what had befallen her. Therefore, when Garcia's obtrusive query suddenly broke through the barriers of her daze, she was at first very baffled by the situation. It wasn't too long, however, until she was fully abreast with the moment, the final remains of her sleep dashed away.
"Are you all right?"
Seeing that she wasn't going to get away with her peculiar behaviour so easily, Roberta endeavoured the best she could to appear wholly nonchalant and decided to add a slight and uncharacteristic playful tone to her answer:
"I was just taking a little nap. I apologize for slacking off so rudely, Young Master"
"N-no, no at all. I was only a bit concerned, for you just sat there so quietly…", the boy hastened to assure, a fragment of embarrassment for fearing that he had sounded pushy being evident in his voice. Now discerning that her little trick had succeeded, Roberta surprisingly felt ingenuous alleviation. Relaxed and at comfort again, Roberta easily guided the conversation elsewhere:
"Well then. It seems to be well past midnight, and I believe everyone should already be in bed."
With all the confusion dispelled and the night indeed growing old, Garcia began to wonder if there was a reason at all for his being there and awake at all. In the end he could only manage to nod in obedient agreement, and to his surprise, Roberta took his hand to escort him back to his room. Nothing remarkable occurred as the pair walked through the dim and feebly illuminated nighttime hallways of the mansion, for the nocturnal silence had adhered to them as well. Adding the exhaustion of the day's hassle and the restless night as well as the quaint atmosphere which still dangled in the air after the constrained encounter, both of them opted to comply with the unspoken contract of reticence. However, when Roberta pulled the duvet over the Young Master, the somnolent youth found himself mouthing the last words of his day:
"Hey, Roberta. I just wanted to say I had really fun time today. With just Lazlo and my father, it sometimes used to be quite lonely and sad here in this house. But now that you are here, I finally feel like we are a real family. So therefore I…I just hope that you feel the same way and will stay with us forever. Goodnight!" As Garcia's nervousness over what he had said surmounted him, he blurted out his last wish, squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from Roberta, unable to face her any longer due to his fear and embarrassment over Roberta's reaction.
His fears were unreasonable, however. For although Garcia's words had indeed struck Roberta very deeply, it wasn't because of hurt, and her following silence didn't emerge from scorn or anger. The thoughts that Garcia's outpouring awakened within Roberta were profound, and although some could have viewed the boy's words as nothing but commonplace blather of an affectionate child, to Roberta it had an immense and dramatic impact. What Garcia said was like a counterblow to all the brooding and grave sentiments that Roberta had borne on her mind ever since she had put behind her days as a revolutionist soldier. What did it matter if her past was full of dreadful and sad memories? It was all in the past, and now she had the present which she shared with the two most important persons in the world for her, with whom she could and already had filled her days with pleasant and happy memories. Why should she let herself be shattered because of the guilt she felt for things that couldn't be changed? Garcia had called them a family and revealed he wished Roberta to feel the same. And now, as she though about it, she found that she did. With the three of them, especially Garcia, who had unwittingly brought forth from Roberta the compassionate and humane side of her which she hadn't known to be even there anymore, Roberta felt sincerely at peace. So, instead of yielding to suffer in self-hatred, why wouldn't she concentrate her resources on atoning for her sins by helping to raise Garcia the best she could? Why couldn't she be taking an active part in his life as his closest companion and friend, just like she had willingly and with delight done up to now? The questions continued to fly inside her head like sparkles, and as she contemplated on them, she began to comprehend that, though varying, they all had a mutual answer: there was no reason for her to remain in the shackles of her blotted past. She could, would and should move on.
As Garcia lied in his bed, clasping his blankets around him and almost trembling with anxiety, he suddenly felt a tender touch on his left cheek. It was so light and transient that for a moment he though a stray feather out of a dream had come and gently brushed his face. When the boy dared to open his eyes and direct them towards the spot where he had felt the sensation, he caught a glimpse of Roberta's retreating face and felt the slowly fading warmth of her breath still comfortably tingling on his skin. With the last of his awake senses Garcia heard, before drifting off to sleep, Roberta's distancing yet lucid words:
"Good night."
- end -
Authors notes:
Yellow wood anemone, also known as yellow anemone or buttercup anemone, is a plant which grows mainly in Continental Europe. I'm not entirely sure if there's any population of it in South America.
Otherwise, for reading this story, I thank you.
In case you decide to leave a comment of any kind, I thank you again.
So long,
Moonlith