Three Months Before

Year 1445, Yoid Calendar.

*

Located a few kilometres away from the centre of Dernalis, visible to all the citizens, stood the estate of the Devereux.

It spanned a surface area of approximately 6 kilometres, lush with well-kept grass and trees.

The estate was surrounded by black iron fences that had sharp tips pointed towards the sky as if signifying that all intruders would be impaled and sent to where they pointed, towards the heavens.

Four guards stood at the gate, carrying weaponry consisting of swords and spears, while the remaining one stood further away with only a short sword on his waist.

On the chest of the uniforms was an embroidered insignia of the Devereux household. A circle, jutting out in six different directions, within which was a vertical pupil.

The vertical pupil was a show of what the Devereux household had been known for over the millennia, being the Watchdog of Atrua.

The name 'Devereux' served as a deterrent to all would-be traitors, spies, or informants. They concerned themselves with cleansing the inner workings of Atrua.

*

Inside the estate, majestic buildings built with classic red bricks could be seen. They were visibly permeated with a beauty that could only be provided with age and history.

Besides the buildings that could be said to be works of art in and of themselves, was a clearing that was filled with flowers and plants, from black-coloured Marposia to White Camellia, the garden was decorated with life and colours of all kinds.

Walking among the flowers was a young boy, with flowing white hair that reached his eyes. His physiognomy could be said to be godly. If one only looked at the features of the young boy, they would surely say it bordered on the feminine side.

The only contrast to his feminine features were his eyes which seemed to exude a perpetually frozen glare.

*

'Why?'

'Why don't I feel satisfaction from these flowers?'

I had always been one who had never needed more in life than to gaze upon beauty to be content and find peace. And what was more beautiful than the life of flowers, as they grew from the soil, the essence of mother earth itself?

The struggle of a flower to grow from seed, to bloom in full glory only to wilt again showcased life in every form.

The intricate and labyrinthine connection of petals, roots and stems achieve a bloom of beauty unachievable by the biggest explosions of fireworks.

'Something so beautifully simple yet complex, but why am I feeling empty today? No, has it been like this for the past few weeks? Did I only notice it today?'

"Young Master, how are you today?"

I heard a gruff man in his fifties ask me. The man was a gardener who had worked for my family for over thirty years. His salt and pepper hair, scuffed hands, and dry skin were telltale signs of how hard he had worked over the years.

But the twinkle in his eyes and his big toothy grin all showed how he dearly loved tending to the garden.

"I am well, Uncle Hubert. How about you?"

Hubert Smith, a man who had taught me a lot about flowers and plants when I was young.

One could say he was the person who enlightened me about the beauty of flowers, though my knowledge has far surpassed his over the years.

A lot can be learned through reading and sadly, Hubert was never proficient enough to extensively study literary works.

"Hah! How nice. I am well too, Young Master. Are you going to do anything new today? I bet you have learned something else again from all the books you read, your lowly servant truly feels proud to see someone like the Young Master so interested in flowers and plants."

"No, not today. I'm just walking around."

'Hmm, thinking about it.'

"Uncle Hubert, have you ever felt bored of gardening over the years?"

Hubert showed a contemplating expression, then said, "No, I haven't. That isn't to say I have always liked gardening. When I was young, I was quite the skirt chaser." Hubert showed a bashful appearance.

Then, he continued wistfully, "So, during those times, I tried doing all types of things to attract attention from the girls. There was even a time I took up the sword to appear cool." He looked at me as if he expected some kind of a reaction.

*Cough* *Cough*

He coughed in a fake manner.

"Anyway, my point is that it took me a countless years of trial and error to finally find something that I loved. It didn't matter if a woman found me cool or not as long as I loved what I did. You still have a long life ahead of you, Young Master. It doesn't matter if you lose interest in flowers or plants, I just hope you find something that you would be able to love for a lifetime." Hubert said the last part tenderly.

"Okay, thank you, Uncle Hubert. Though I feel like my attachment to flowers will never falter, maybe I should look for something that will complement it instead."

I could see Hubert smiling merrily, he probably felt happy that I won't just ditch my infatuation with flowers.

"Uncle Hubert, please don't let me hold you. I will just take a stroll around the garden for a while."

"Of course, Young Master. Be well and have fun."

Seeing Hubert bow and turn around, I went towards the west of the garden, where I planted my favourite type of flower; White Camellia. I began to watch the flowers closely,

'Something that complements flowers? Should I extensively study magic like my brothers to use it on flowers?'

I shook my head, flowers tainted with magic would no longer be flowers in their natural essence. I imagined how flowers, or any art, would be if they were able to express themselves like humans, wishing that the emotions of all kinds of art would be visible to my eyes.

'How beautiful would flowers be if they could show emotions as humans do? Sorrow, happiness, melancholy, anger, or something else? Would they mind being tainted by magic? Would they still be themselves as they exponentially grow and seem to come alive due to magic?' But I thought they lost their intrinsic beauty if they were like that anyhow.

I found it ironic when I thought about how I, myself, rarely showed emotions. I knew my physical features were artistically pleasing to the eyes of others.

But like flowers, I am also unable to show emotions as 'humans' do.

'Maybe that's why I feel some kind of kinship to flowers and art yet unable to feel anything even with my own mother?'

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and continued to observe the flowers one by one.

*

Hours must have passed though it didn't feel like it. I raised my head from the trance-like state of concentration I always had whenever I started observing flowers and saw that the sun was already beginning to set.

'Guess I haven't completely lost the sense of contentment I have in flowers in the end.'

I pondered deprecatingly, thinking back to the state of my mind earlier.

'I must be in what others call a phase. To think I would have something like that. I guess I'm not so different after all.'

I began to walk back towards the main house, looking at some of the flowers on the way back. All of a sudden, I heard an ear-piercing shriek.

"AHHHHH!"

I instinctively turned my head towards the sound, not knowing whether the sound I just heard was even real.

"IS ANYONE THERE?! HELP!"

I heard it clearly this time but couldn't distinguish the voice and I immediately headed towards the sound.

I wasn't afraid of something like an attack or even entertained the idea of an intruder since the garden was at the centre of the estate spanning a wide area surrounded by buildings all around.

I simply concluded that an accident must have occurred to one of the gardeners. The gardeners also use tools and low-magic stones to help in their work after all. A malfunction, though rare, could still happen.

"ANYONE THERE? HELP!AGHHH.....it....hurts...fuck!"

The voice became clearer as I walked closer. On top of noticing that the voice got weaker towards the end, I could pinpoint without a doubt that this voice belonged to Hubert.

I casually thought to myself that I should have walked a bit faster since Hubert was someone I had a positive impression of.

When I got to the site where Hubert was, I was dumbstruck. Half of Hubert's body was gone, his left leg was dismembered, a piece of bone sticking out of the stump that was his leg. His left arm, on the other hand, was gone all the way to the shoulder.

Hubert was lying in a pool of blood, it must not have been long since the incident occurred but Hubert was already showing signs of passing out due to blood loss and if he did, chances are he won't ever wake up again.

I also noticed another piece of flesh lying a few feet away from Hubert, at first I thought it must have been Hubert's leg.

But upon a closer look, it looked like the remains of another person, probably another gardener.

Although I took only a second or two at worst to take in all these pieces of information, what made me dumbstruck was the epiphany that I had.

Here was Hubert, who had screamed out of desperation. Showing emotions to an extent I had never seen from him in all the years I had known him, all the while lying on top of flowers.

Although most of the flowers were squished by Hubert and ruined by whatever happened here, there were still some that remained intact here and there, some entangled with Hubert. Some mixed with blood, some still pristine.

I had come to help him, and I would have. It was just that at this moment, I felt rooted to the spot. I only had one question as I gazed at this thought-provoking scene,

'Flowers...art and emotions? Maybe, something can be done?'

****