Teaching Respect.
By C S Sinclair.
Chapter Ten.
"You shouldn't be doing that, Sir."
Genaro looked up from his work and smiled in welcome, half rising, but sitting back down at the old man's request.
"Franks! I thought you'd be in bed at this hour! I'd planned to stop in tomorrow morning."
"I sleep when the Master sleeps, Sir. But really… you should have asked someone to do this for you. I'll summon one of the maids…"
Genaro shook his head, and resumed his brushing: "Where is it written that a man can't shine his own shoes? I'm a guest in this house, and its servants don't owe me anything. Besides, I'm almost done."
Franks sighed with hint of frustration, but also some pride: "Well, you know what Mrs Franks will say about that… Of course I'll be the one to get it. Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth as far as she's concerned…"
Genaro threw a cloth over his shoulder like a dueling cape: "Nobody can resist the dashing Genaro, you know that Franks!"
They both chuckled at this. Eventually however Franks turned away, and when he looked back, his face had adopted a sudden seriousness.
"Sir, I'm afraid that something happened whilst you were away…"
Genaro froze, gripping the shoe and brush tightly. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.
"Oh God. Cathy…"
The old man started forward with a quick reassuring gesture: "No no, nothing like that, Sir!"
Genaro breathed an audible sigh of relief and let his tools clatter onto the table in front of him. He held up a hand to his face.
"Franks, don't ever do that to me again! Now what is it?"
The old man smiled in apology before continuing: "It's young Mister Marshall, Sir…"
"Sir Marshall" insisted Genaro stubbornly, returning to his work. "The man lost an ear standing up to Almasy and his devils. He's as noble as anyone here, and as soon as I am empowered to do so again, I will ensure he receives exactly that accolade."
The outburst had silenced the room. Only the soft sound of brushing disturbed it for a few moments. Genaro looked up, shrugging to indicate Franks should continue.
"I'm afraid… there was an incident with one of the grand pianos… and a hammer. The piano was a Stravelli – priceless as I'm sure you know. The Master was quite upset, and wondered if you might have a word… before he has to."
Franks looked deeply uncomfortable delivering this ultimatum. Genaro nodded, and with his work finished for now, proceeded to put on the newly shined shoes.
"One job ends, but always there is more, eh Franks?"
He stood up, and before he could tell him it wasn't necessary, accepted his saber which Franks had hurried to bring him. He buckled it to his waist in thanks.
"I'm very sorry, Sir. We tried to watch him as you instructed. But we have our hands full these days with Miss Catherine as well and…"
Genaro put his hand on the faithful butler's shoulder.
"It isn't anyone's fault… except maybe mine. I shouldn't have left them for so long."
He checked his watch, as the old butler moved to clear up the cleaning tools. He thought of trying to stop him, but decided against it, thanking him silently instead.
"I'll go and see him now. Please convey to his Lordship that I will attend him in… 15-20 minutes. I assume Sir Marshall is on the terrace at this hour?"
After confirming this, he strode off, his sparkling shoes clacking loudly and satisfyingly on the marble floors. Sometimes life seemed so easy, and sometimes it seemed so desperately hard.
The air was warm and still outside. There had been a suggestion of thunder earlier, but nothing had come of it. Genaro wasn't sure why, but tonight had seemed like it should be all thunder and lightning. It just seemed… right. He didn't know why, really.
Lilting music rolled over the scene from below - the orchestra sounded in good tune this evening. And sure enough, Marshall stood at the balcony, calling occasionally for them to change something; alter this or that.
"They say Braderio and Valterini both got early nights when they were composing."
Marshall turned, his long hair whipping away from his face revealing his disfigured ear briefly. Genaro betrayed no sign he had seen it; this would be difficult enough.
"And they took those early nights together sometimes, if you believe the rumours…" replied his friend holding out his hand in greeting.
Genaro shook it warmly and embraced him. He looked over the balcony, and sat down on the parapet, one leg resting on it, the other on the floor. Marshall also turned to look at the orchestra.
"A bit late to have them practicing, isn't it though?"
"I know why you're here" interrupted Marshall.
"Man has debated that for centuries. It seems all they had to do was come to you" tried Genaro. "At least, unless you've had a few, that is?"
Indicating the wine bottle near Marshall's side, he clicked his fingers expectantly.
"It's full, not even open" assured Marshall irritably. Genaro continued to hold out his hand, so Marshall grabbed the bottle roughly and thrust at him with a waterly glug.
He turned it over, checking the seal, before handing it back.
"No, it's alright. I believe you" he said, flashing a smile at his friend's scowling face. Marshall took it, thought it over and then laughed, shaking his head. He set it down and smoothed his hands along the parapet.
"I know I let you down, Gene. I'm sorry. It's just… that fool Tallo was on the thing, tinkling away, and he just kept getting it wrong. And he had the cheek to suggest his version was better. I wrote this damn piece, I know what it should sound like… even if I can't hear it properly anymore."
Genaro looked down, listening in silence. He felt awful for Marshall of course, but you couldn't keep saying how sorry you were. And Marshall didn't want it anyway; he wanted to forget, wanted to get better. It just got too much sometimes, which Genaro well understood.
"I wanted to come back earlier. There's just been so much to do…"
"No, it's not you. I just wish it wouldn't itch. Lopped off and still itching, and hurting sometimes. Phantom limb pain or something the doctor called it."
"It's all that hair. I told you to get that mop cropped" suggested Genaro trying desperately to cheer him up.
"No, no…I'm not ready for that yet" he replied quietly.
Deciding he couldn't leave the lord waiting any longer, Genaro pulled himself to his feet, and patted his friend on the back.
"It's going to be alright. It won't be long now, okay?"
Marshall nodded, and waved in farewell.
He called after him before he got inside: "Do you think she likes music, Gene? That cyclopean bitch, I mean? That'd be the final insult don't you think, after she cut my ear off?"
Genaro turned: "It doesn't matter what she likes. We're the good guys, M. We always win in the end."
"Come in."
Genaro opened the double doors, slipped in and closed them behind him. He turned to offer greetings, but was momentarily struck by the sparse, barrenness that greeted him.
"I…Your lordship… your study?"
Rising from behind his ancient mahogany desk, the nobleman moved forward, arms wide open in delighted welcome. They embraced warmly, Genaro noting with concern that the older man seemed rather tired and drawn.
"In times of war, a man must surround himself only with that which focuses his mind and cools his heart" explained the older man. "But I am glad to see you!"
Waving aside enquires about his health, he conducted Genaro to the desk, sat him down and poured them both a glass of sherry.
"A glass of the best cures all ills" he smiled as they toasted and drank.
He returned to his seat, and they exchanged pleasantries and news of small importance. At length, the older man sat back and Genaro could tell it was time for business.
"My agents tell me our time is upon us. I have it on good authority that the Garden will move from the Balamb area within the next few days."
Genaro sat up in great interest. "Do they know where?"
The noble lord nodded, fixing him with a stare: "They will make for Deling City, I am told."
Genaro placed his glass on the table, staring out the window in thought. Deling City… his home. He hadn't been back there since the parade… since his father died.
"Is that a problem?"
"No… I just didn't expect it. I wasn't aware that negotiations between my country and the SEED academy had reopened. It's a bold move… on both sides."
He shook his head clear, and looked up with determination.
"We will be ready to move when your agents confirm it. You may depend on me, Your lordship."
His mentor leaned forward, opening a drawer in his desk and retrieving several photos.
"That was never an issue, my boy. If your country does not recognize your worth at present, they are the ones at fault. In you, I place my absolute faith as always. This however" (he indicated the photos) "This is something I need to know your opinion of."
He handed the photos over. Genaro took them and flipped through them. He could feel his eyes widening and mouth falling open. They showed a familiar long haired girl embracing an equally familiar one eyed girl with silvery hair.
"These… are these…?"
"Genuine, I am assured" came the reply. "And please, if you are going to suggest this comes as a complete surprise, spare us both the embarrassment."
"My Lord, I assure you…"
"The choice of partner, perhaps. But my daughter's preferences in matters of the heart have been known to me for many years now. She is very… frank as you know. And I also know she told you" he finished.
Genaro nodded, but quickly resumed shaking his head in bewildered horror.
"But why… how can she allow that monster to touch her?"
The older man sighed: "You think this complicates matters? I should say it makes our plans rather easier in some regards. The Fujin girl was friends with Almasy after all. This could work to our advantage."
Genaro nodded again, seeing the wisdom of his words. "I understand your lordship. Again, it was simply unexpected… and rather unfortunate. I was very fond of your daughter. I had hoped to spare her any unnecessary pain."
The older man rose from his seat, rounded the table and gripped him by the shoulder:
"But this is not unnecessary, it is all too necessary! Your father understood the value of a cold heart, and his advice I always set great store by. My daughter has made her choice. We did not make it for her. Would you have these fiends go free, unpunished?"
Genaro rose, and bowed his head in deep supplication, utterly ashamed of his momentary weakness. The older man lifted his face and patted him warmly on the shoulder.
"Peace, my boy. Your good heart is a credit to your father also. But you must turn it to steel for now. Seifer Almasy is a vicious killer, as are his cohorts. When the moment comes, you must strike any and all who stand against you – even my daughter should it come to that, though I pray it will not. There must be only thoughts of justice in your mind – no fancy speechs of vengeance, no triumphal gloating, and certainly no mercy. Because he wouldn't hesitate if the tables were turned."
Genaro nodded, gripping his sword tightly. "I will not fail" he declared with a cold fury. "These villains took my father and heaven knows how many other innocents. They shall find no shelter from me."
The older man moved back to his seat. Genaro moved to leave, but then remembered:
"My Lord, one more thing. I just wished to say thank you for tolerating my charges. They have caused you some worry I think."
The older man shrugged: "They have your confidence, so they are welcome in my house. But I worry that some of your choices are… unsuited to the trials ahead. Two of them are even deserters from your own military, are they not?"
Genaro looked to the door, thinking of his friends. "You have your methods, my Lord. But I have mine - I need people who have seen what these devils have done, felt the injustice they meted out. They are more useful to me than a thousand paid mercenaries."
He turned back to face the older man: "And as for Colonel Biggs… he too was an old friend of my father. When my father needed the Dollet communication tower restored, he knew the right man for the job. And despite SEED involvement, he succeeded, and later survived their breakout from the prison. He deserted only after witnessing the depravity of Almasy and his sorceress whore. He is a hero of my country, and I trust him with my life."
He opened the door to leave, but a quiet voice followed after him: "Do… you think my little Xusie will ever forgive me?"
Genaro looked down at the photos shaking his head sadly. "I think… she looks happier than I have ever seen her. And the Fujin girl looks almost human in her presence. Surely I have never seen two people better suited, or more in love…"
He screwed the photos up in his hand.
"No, my lord. I am afraid when we kill Miss Fujin – as we must, as I will – Xu will never forgive either of us. And… I fear what she might do in her grief."
The voice that replied echoed with sadness: "That is because we both know the truth my boy. There is no forgiveness in this world, never any forgiveness. Be ready to leave at any time."
"Are you feeling ill, Sir Deling?"
Genaro looked up and saw Mrs Franks staring down with concern at him.
"Oh… no, I'm fine. I… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"
He looked over at the bed. The girl shifted contently in her sleep, her blonde hair shining in the moonlight. He smiled, and accepted Mrs Franks comforting hand. She pulled him up and escorted him outside.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Franks. I just wanted to look in on her, and I must have fallen asleep. I had the strangest dream… a field and a single tree. There was a dove and…"
He shook his head, he couldn't remember the rest. It had been so tranquil though…
"Won't you stay on a bit longer, Sir? She needs her rest now, but she's been asking and asking when you'd return."
He looked up with delight: "By name, she remembered my name?!"
Her look told her no, and he sank against the wall in fresh despair.
"No, she remembers bits and pieces, your eyes and your smile. She likes talking about you! You're the only one she really remembers now…"
"My girl always loved to talk. She was so happy to become a SEED - I read her letter when she graduated every night. I suppose that's quite sad, but… I miss her so much. We were going to be married when she graduated… we had it all planned out before that…"
He bit back a sob of anger as Mrs Franks hugged him. She took him by the arms, looking very worried.
"It's kind of a trademark of Almasy's, you see Mrs Franks. He left his own girl in a coma, now he's hurt mine… but he won't be hurting anyone else, I swear it!!"
"But she's not in a coma! She's still here and she needs you. Won't you stop all this?!"
He pulled away in outrage: "One foot in this world, one in the next! What good is that?! That is not my girl in there… that's a prison that my girl is trapped in. She can't do anything herself; we have to watch her constantly, she's like a child!"
"Damn you Almasy,damn you!!" he howled, punching the wall in frustration and throwing a table over, its vase smashing loudly and echoing along the corridors.
"But we'll beat him, Mrs Franks. My girl's going to get better. One day she'll wake up and she'll be just like she was before all this."
He laughed softly to himself: "She'll be so mad at the clothes we put on her. Always had particular taste, only she knew best. I'll be for the high jump then… ah, won't that be so grand? And she'll love you Mrs Franks, you've never seen anyone like my girl… so loving and caring…"
He looked over at the old woman, and straightened his clothes, adjusting his saber. She was shaking with worry, and reached over to him. He took her hands, rubbed some warmth into them and kissed him on the forehead.
"Don't ask me to forgive them Mrs Franks" he explained in a soft voice. "I'm bringing our girl back, and I'm sending Almasy and his fiends screaming to the hell they have eluded for too long. That's justice, Mrs Franks. Justice!"
With that he stalked off along the corridor leaving the aged domestic wringing her hands in worry. Stopping at the end of the corridor, he took out the scrunched up photos and unwrapped them. They looked so happy… it was like they were laughing at him and Cathy.
He held the photos over one of the long candles burning nearby, and watched with grim satisfaction as the images of the women burned and shriveled. He let them fall, trailing with fire to the ground, before stabbing his saber through the remains.
"No forgiveness in this world… never any forgiveness."