Pere was finally at the Fabre household. It had taken too many years for his liking, but he could force himself to go slow in order to assure his revenge. It was his last duty to the extinct Gardios family.

He had spent two and a half years searching, hoping that some member of the family had survived, impossibly, but none remained. He had then spent half a year gaining Kimlascan citizenship, and another five years making contacts and garnering recommendations that would earn him the position he sought.

Today, finally, he had been hired. The perfect day for vengance, the anniversary of the massacre at Hod, master Gailardia's birthday. He would have been thirteen today, if he had lived.

He could handle spending one day tending to the foliage of the Fabre family in order to set up his plan. His pride had already been broken when he had failed in his duties, and at least that job would not require any contact with the family. The flowers were innocent of the blood that drenched the entire household.

He was tending to the flowers as attentively as possible right now, not looking up to make eye contact with anyone. When he ignored the voices of playing children in the yard, just too painful, the memories the sounds invoked so strongly, they likely assumed him deaf or senile and moved away.

All he had to do was wait for nightfall. Even inside the house, he would not be questioned carrying a hand shovel with razor-sharp edges. As a servant, he would be expected to clean and fix his tools at night. The Fabres only used the best, of course, he thought scornfully. Too bad for them.

And the simple excuse of giving the young master a potted plant to brighten his room would easily gain him access to the young master's chamber. The complete simplicity of the entire setup could almost make him believe that fate wanted him to do this, was easing his way.

He's likely have to deal with a servant or attendant in the boy's room, but even with a small blade that wasn't meant to be a blade, he could handle it. He was a master, possibly the last remaining, of the Albert style.

The sun was sinking and the courtyard empty, silent, as he gathered his tools to return them to the shed. He carefully inspected the shovels and selected the one best suited to his purpose. It had a serration to the sharpened edges, for cutting through tough roots, which he know would be excellent for shredding skin, causing more pain than a straight blade. The Fabres would know that their boy had suffered before his demise.

He made a brief stop in his room to pick up the plant he had prepared earlier. He noted that there was another bed in the room, and thanked the Score that whoever he had been roomed with was still out tending to some duty or another.

Before picking a plant, he had learned the boy's favorite colors to be red and gold, and had been seized by a whim. His choice had been a Gailardia, fire-bright, and with it in his hands, he almost felt like his own young master was aiding him.

The walk to the boy's chamber was short and unchallenged. He knocked, then pushed the door open immediately. The boy was known for his leniency with servants who took liberties.

"A present for the young master," he said in as pleasant a tone as he could manage when he was this close to finally carrying out the deed.

The young master, who was sitting on the floor facing him, brightened and began chanting 'Flower man, flower man'. The servant sitting facing the young master had stiffened unnaturally at the sound of his voice. Had he let something slip through?

No matter, the blond boy was too young to be a threat, and it was too late for both of the children before him now anyway. He set the plant down on a dresser nearby the door and turned on them before the servant could even get up to face him.

He disabled the servant with a stab to the side which he dragged out through the front as he rushed past. It was sloppy, but the servant would be going nowhere with part of his intestines hanging out.

All the young master had time to do was blink twice in shock or horror before Pere was upon him. He had wanted to draw this out, make the boy suffer for everything his parents had done, but he looked into those innocent eyes just a second too long to remember that. The blade slashed deeply across the boy's throat before he could stop himself, and he even found himself saying a short prayer that his parent's hadn't yet warped his soul enough to bar him from a pleasant afterlife.

He was in the middle of wishing a silent 'Happy Birthday' to his departed master when-

"Pere…?" The pained and frightened whisper stopped Pere cold. Nobody here knew him by that name, he had applied under a fake name as he hadn't wanted to take chances with being recognized. But even more than the word itself, the voice was drawing back memories. Late nights, and his frightened young master sneaking in, ashamed of his fright at the slightest bump in the dark, and whimpering quietly until Pere calmed him.

Dread settled itself into Pere's gut, and he had to force himself to turn around and face the servant he had practically gutted on his way to the Fabre heir.

On the floor lay his master Gailardia, trying to hold in his intestines, but failing to keep his blood from continuing to spill out. His eyes showed his inability to comprehend that it was Pere who had done this to him.

"Master… Gailar…" Pere couldn't finish his words past the shock. Alive. Master Gailardia had been alive this whole time? He had just delivered a killing blow to the miraculously alive heir of house Gardios?

"It is you, Pere," master Gailardia choked out, then smiled. Either he was getting lightheaded from the blood loss or had gone into full denial that Pere could have done this to him. "You remembered my birthday."

"I- I'll never forget, I promised," Pere stammered.

"I know. I'm very tired. Could you take care of Master Luke until I wake up? He gets very frightened…" Master Gailardia's eyes slid shut, and his breathing only continued a short moment longer, before shuddering to a stop.

Reality slammed down hard on Pere, failure after failure crushing him until he felt like there was nothing left. His failure to protect the Gardios family, his failure to find his still living master, his failure to save his master, his failure to even carry out his master's dying wish.

All he could do was rush to his young master's still form, and gather him into his arms. Time was entirely meaningless now, he didn't care about anything anymore, he had nothing left to care about. After an indeterminate period of time in numb mourning, he knew what he had to do.

The maids found the gristly scene in the morning. Their shrieks roused the entire household, before the dead quiet of mourning settled over the household.

It forever remained a mystery as to why the new gardener had gone berserk and attacked the two children, then ended his own life.