Somewhere Someplace

Clip. Clip. Clip.

Elegant bushes—clearly not of the dutchy—in the shape of exotic animals were being clipped and clipped within this elaborately pleasant garden.

Trim. Trim. Trim.

She trimmed away. Such was her duty this day.

The cutter she was using was…old and aged, making them more irritating to use, but were doable. It did not help that she had to be careful and precise; there was a strict manner to which she must adhere. But she was starting to become accustomed to it… somewhat, at least.

Today was her first day outside in the garden area of this estate; thus, her first time doing this specific chore. She had to master these bushes—of all mundanities—sculped in the figures of animals she had never seen before she would be allowed to even step close to Berrybottom’s flowers, fruits, and such.

“What is that ugly cut again? Too deep! You have ruined the shape!” so reprimanded a proctoring maid nearby, before bouncing in the air was rather the whipping slap.

Ouch.

The sound alone was enough to shudder the nerves in her cheeks and wrist. At least it was not her this time, though. The lead maid of her group was rather…strict. Though, at least she was not a total bitch, even if still…leaning in that direction.

“Pink.” so strictly struck her spine from behind as firm steps approached…closer and closer.

Oh no.

She turned herself around and…respectfully stared as the proctor maid now stood before her and her assigned fancy animal-bush. The maid’s hardened eyes stared into it in such analytical detail that she could not even begin to fathom. Her breathing…became heavier and more edged.

The proctor maid breathed in and opened her mouth. She immediately tensed.

“Better.” thus such words were heard. She relaxed in relief.

“But clearly in need of improvement. There is an art to the trim to which you must become accustomed.”

“…it’s” she began to reply, but…

“Contractions.” She was so strictly interrupted.

“It is…my first day—our first day—on this…duty, so we are all inexperienced and our cutters are…not good; leniency is necessary, no?” she said, her eyes glancing in the direction of that peer of hers who had been…struck with a strict hand.

The proctor maid glanced in kind; “Leniency encourages laziness. It has been a full week since you all have begun your duties, and each skill affects the rest. By now I expect you all to be diligent enough from your prior chores, which is evidently not the case.”

“Has it ever been the case?” she so brazenly inquired, quite skeptical of these expectations indeed.

The protector maid stared with a grimacing amusement; “There is a mammoth bush that may require your attention, so you must stay outside for additional hours, Pink.”

“Yes ma’am…” she acknowledged, nearly sighing. Sometimes her mouth seemed to have a soul of its own, and she was one who reaped the consequences.

Indeed, it has been one week since Blossom had begun this new…chapter of her existence. So far, it was repetitive and without anything memorable. She would wake up, eat, then spend all day attending to the many assigned duties and chores with ever-stricter standards, eat again, and then sleep… only to begin again the next day.

Her behavior, at least, did change—well, kind of. She never wanted to be here; she still did not want to be here; yet…it was not as bad as she had thought it was going to be. She had heard much about this work from her mother, but…it appeared that this House Berrybottom was not…the same as…those by whom her mother had once been employed.

Likewise, she felt…better about being here, now that…

“Miranda! Now, now!” so approached the proctor maid with such praising voice, “that is fine work… Perfect in every way!”

Right… she had a friend… Someone with whom she was getting along quite finely. Granted, it was only a week since they had met, and she still…did not want to become too attached; though, such was difficult when the other was the one who…came to her and kept coming to her.

“Hehe” Miranda stood in place with confident pride, marveling at her…trimmed animal-bush of sorts.

Blossom stared at Miranda’s bush nearby and right behind. To be honest, she was unable to really…spot the difference between that bush, her own, and her still sore and sniffling peer’s. These maids saw things she could not; frankly, this made her question the existence of these very things they so critiqued.

Though, regardless, Miranda seemed to be both very diligent and proficient in all of her duties—perfect, even. It must be her elven blood, Blossom presumed. She did not mind Miranda’s perfection, though. She barely cared for this job; so, she could not possibly be competitive about it.

“Well, Miranda… Once again, you have proven to excel far beyond that of your fellows. There is no more for you to do here, and you are free to take an early leave” the proctor maid stated with a pleased smile.

Yet Miranda peeked her head over, staring in the direction of Blossom…before looking back at the proctor maid; “Uhm… Actually, if I may request, I believe my…talents would be best for helping; so, might I remain and help my fellows?” she courteously requested.

“That is a fair idea, absolutely. You may” the proctor maid allowed.

Hmph. Blossom could see the bias bleeding from that maid’s voice.

Though, her mood quickly changed once Miranda, smiling, immediately took her picking and approached.

“Heya Pinky!” Miranda so greeted with cheer.

“…hi” Blossom greeted…a bit quietly.

“Need help?” Miranda asked, leaning in closer playfully.

“…I guess so” Blossom replied.

Miranda quickly stepped forward and next, hmming as she inspected Blossom’s own…animal-bush. “Huh, it’s not that different… Although, I suppose…some refinements are in order…” she remarked, before she, with her own cutter, carefully began to trim and chip; “Watch and learn, Miss Defiant” she said with a confident cordial smirk.

Blossom watched as Miranda did her ‘refinements’. She struggled to see what Miranda was doing any differently, to be frank. However, maybe…the animal-blush was becoming…prettier and…more realistic the more Miranda refined.

As Miranda trimmed and clipped away, focusing with an open cheery grin, Blossom’s eyes began to peer. Hmm… She had noticed this before, but…Miranda had rather prominent canines—almost fang-like, yet maybe not…necessarily. Such must be yet another elven thing, Blossom supposed.

-||-

“I am so tired…”

“My wrist hurts…”

“My bottom hurts!”

“I never thought that trimming bushes could be so exhausting…”

Listening to her peers’ complaints, Blossom’s cheeks inflated as she suppressed the urge to giggle. “Oh, I bet… You evidently don’t trim often, have you seen your bush?” her breaths quietly blurted in bleeding snicker.

Miranda, walking right next to her, managed to hear. “Your mouth’s running itself again, Pink” she commented in tease.

Blossom ahemed and went silent. She did not mean to say that…audibly. She hoped no one else had heard. Yet with a quick glance…she saw that a peer walking close enough…was giving her a grimacing eye.

So… Miranda was not the only one who had heard.

“You ought to keep your mouth clean, we will be on dinner duty today, attending to all the hungry needs of those Berrybottom sirs and madams” Miranda said with a charm.

Blossom eyed Miranda walking next and near… It was because of her that she was even here…walking with the rest.

She was still supposed to be in that garden…trimming away a mammoth bush—she had not the idea of what a ‘mammoth’ even was. But because of Miranda’s help and teachings, the proctoring maid thought it fine enough to let her go—no thanks to Miranda’s own suggestion… Clearly, the biases bled so.

Evening was dawning; the day approached its end. Now, for the first time, they were to be attending to the dinner; for the first time, they were to be thoroughly introduced to all those whom they so served in this estate. Despite the long week she was here, she had yet to really meet any of these Berrybottoms, besides maybe a couple with whom she had not interacted.

Sir Berrybottom had five sons; the two of oldest were not present, while the other three remained present. He also had four daughters whom…besides one…he had married off already. The current head of House Berrybottom was very eager to expand his house’s status, suffice it to say, no doubt hoping to rise from the petty manorial ‘lower’ nobility to the feudality and title-holding ‘higher’ nobility.

In any case, these three sons were still older than she, but the youngest of them was only shy over her age by a year, so she had heard, thus having just come of age. The one remaining daughter was barely a teenager, hence why she was still even here.

Blossom was…curious, admittedly, but quite frankly she did not want to mingle with any of them. Indeed, she did not particularly fancy their kind…despite being one of them—by blood, at least.

Yet her fellows, on the other hand…

“I am excited! I heard the oldest of Sir Berrybottom was so…strapping…”

“He is the only subject about which my room-fellows seemed to discourse!”

“I have heard his youngest is quite the handsome looker”

“He’s our age too!”

“Contractions, missy. We are in elegant, higher house now.”

Blossom had not the faintest clue of what universe her peers lived in. Yet…deep down within, she wished she lived in their world; to see things the way they did. Her envy made their words annoying and irritating to hear.

“It’s been only one week, and they already speak as though they have mastered the elegance of this tongue, pfft…over-correcting peasants, nobody speaks like that…pfft” she muttered…perhaps a bit too audibly, for many grimacing eyes quickly glared… before withdrawing back to themselves.

“…what a sour-mouth”

“I ponder how she was even received here with acceptance”

“Just ignore that street-rat, she will eventually be ejected without doubt”

It did not take long before those giggling gossips recontinued.

Even before, it was obvious to Blossom—her perceptions, at least—that her peers had all collectively opted to completely tune out her existence, not wanting any association with a rabblerousing defiant-mouth like her. And those who did acknowledge her existence did not have anything pleasant to say.

Such was fine, however. She did not care. She preferred it, in fact, when those simply acted as if she were never there, as if she never existed, as if…

Yet…it still hurt, nevertheless, which only made her even more defensively indifferent to spite the evident pain.

“What’s with that face?” Miranda inquired, eyes peering closer. “Sad? Angry? Or both?” she pondered aloud.

Blossom retracted away; “Huh? I don’t know…what you are…” she…stumbly attempted to speak.

Miranda playfully booped Blossom’s nose; “You are a very readable girl, Pink” she remarked with a smile.

“…oh, I…did not think so” Blossom replied, gently rubbing her abruptly booped nose.

“At any the rightly right, duty time!” Miranda announced, that large double-door leading to the dining area spotable in front.

“I’ll keep my mouth clean…” Blossom said with a slight smile, to which Miranda simply smiled in reply, perhaps…teasingly elbowing her a bit as well.

A rather strange and energetic person indeed, but she did not mind at all. She was just glad that…there was someone who was…giving her a chance, even if it still felt difficult to be happy.

-|-

A large, spacious, and elegant chamber of a room, thus they were in. At the center of which was a large and clearly-noble dining table—small with respect to the chamber. Nightly lit to convey visibility yet also the sense of a late-evening and ending day.

At the front end of this noble dining table was Sir Berrybottom himself, an old man yet his age had not diminished his youth, who sat upon the most behooving, elegant, and prestigious of chairs—a chair which perhaps overcompensated for his lack of definitive prestige and status among the petty nobility, let alone the warring feudality.

Flanking the left side were two of his three present sons, both young adults and fairly quiet. Flanking the right side was his youngest of sons—who sat closest to him—and youngest of daughters, both also fairly quiet; though, the daughter was a bit…wiggly and squiggly, moping. Quite far from the rest, all the way at the other end of this table, was the sir’s wife.

Why Madam Berrybottom was isolated so to the far end of this table was an open mystery, but Blossom immediately presumed that one of the two had been caught engaging in infidelity and thus refused to be near. Considering that she had yet to see many butlers and servant men, she instantly thought it was the sir.

She pondered, staring at the many attending maids… Which one was it, then? Looks were one of the things selected for, so they were all pretty, but…

Though, slumbering with a maid or servant was not true ‘infidelity’ in the same way, was it? It had to be a visitor, then… or… Hmm…

Speaking of Blossom, she and the rest had all been relegated to the left wall of this chamber, standing in place with gracious attention. She had done nothing besides watching how the servicing maids did their job… watching with empty stomachs as the Berrybottoms feasted upon their most becoming, richest, and so…tasty-looking dinner.

The smell…was unlike anything she had scented in…well…ever, she had to admit. Was that a hog, she spotted? A full…cooked…meaty…hog, stuffed with apples and… What even were some of those fruits?

Likewise, maybe her peers were right… His sons seemed…perhaps…handsome, she had to admit. The youngest son, at whom she could actually stare from her position, was…rather cute, she had to admit. Though, such only made her wonder… What was ugly on the inside of them all?

Regardless, she really did wonder why they were even present if all she and her peers were going to do was watch… Were they supposed to be learning? Taking notes? Stupid… “…actually make us do something if you want us to learn…” her voice blurted in whisper.

“Shush!” she was instantly hushed in a sharp snap.

Miranda, standing next to her as always, suppressed the urge to snicker.

“More wine.” Sir Berrybottom simply requested, breaking the…cold silence.

A quiet maid graciously refilled his dedicated wine cup—right, they had specific cups for…that one specific beverage. Blossom thought that was stupid—just use a normal cup. She had only tasted beer, never wine, but she did not think wine was anything special.

Sir Berrybottom let loose a frustrated sigh of a breath, eyes turning to the oldest of these three present sons. The daughter immediately tensed despite not being the one at whom was being so glared.

“Why must you be troublesome, Billhook?” Sir Berrybottom so strictly interrogated.

The interrogated son simply exhaled a scoffing sigh; “Why did you name me ‘Billhook’, father?”

“You were destined to be versatile and reliable, like a billhook, which you have been nothing of that sort… As stubborn as a zebra-donkey, so I wonder the same” Sir Berrybottom replied, his voice clearly that of a frustrated parent and house-head.

The son ughed; “I refused to be betrothed to some girl younger than Gem, father” he simply replied, eyes pointing at his young sister.

“You do not have a choice.” Sir Berrybottom stated.

“Clearly, I do have a choice, father, for I refused” the son replied.

Sir Berrybottom’s stare turned more into a snarling glare; “That ‘some girl’ is the vice baron’s own! I have worked an entire lifetime attempting to gain his favor” he stated strictly.

“Why not him?” The son pointed to the youngest of his brothers, “He is of age now, no?”

“You are the one they want, not him. Besides, he is destined for greater things unlike any of you” Sir Berrybottom bit.

“Well, then, it is their loss, for I refused.” the son simply said.

“Then you will be sent off to the war like your brothers to fight in the glory of our house! Both the Duke in Grandberry and the Count of Elderberry are in need, and I have two…useless sons who refused to be wedded despite their age” Sir Berrybottom stated, glaring at both of the older sons—the other of whom had not the faintest idea as to why he was being dragged into this despite his silence.

The son quietly scoffed; “You sent Greenman and Appleteer to be leaders in the opposite sides of this rebellion despite our house’s neutrality, and now you wish to send me in lead of troops, truly?” he replied with a calm yet defiant voice.

“Lead? No, thrown out of this house and made to fight like a peasant, for you surely love them more than your family!” Sir Berrybottom bit, slamming his hand.

The daughter was only becoming more…wiggly and squirmy; “Can I leave now? I don’t wanna be here…” she requested lowly and anxiously.

“No! You will stay where you are!” Sir Berrybottom lashed to the echoing sigh of the mother at the other end, the daughter whimpering.

Madam Berrybottom simply stood up; “Come along, Gem… Shall we read?”

The daughter promptly hopped off her chair and smiled, “We shall!”

The two quickly departed, leaving only their half-finished meals and the three sons.

“You sincerely call this a family, father?” the son simply remarked; “You seek to control us and our lives, but cannot… There is no other reason for you to lash towards little Gem…and our mother—I am a man of this world born with inalienable rights, and I am free to exercise my right to choose my own fate”.

The anger began to bleed from Sir Berrybottom’s gritting teeth; “This again!” He slammed his hand again, “Always this! This is all because I made that mistake of hiring those Far Western aliens to tutor you and your brother—a mistake I am never making with him”—he glanced at his youngest son—“They and their pathetic failed ‘revolution’ have rotted your very identity and soul! You were birthed as greater souls with grander purposes ordained by your blood as bestowed by the Gods!”

“Yet those of lower blood have more of a choice than we” the son so retorted.

“NONE…of them nor you nor us or anyone have a ‘choice’ in this damned world, and you know that! You do not believe anything. You, boy, are merely being rebellious for the sake of defying me because I casted away that slime wench you were sleeping around with!” Sir Berrybottom so rebuked, snapping.

The son went silent…before ultimately standing himself up. “Well, I will take my leave, father” he simply said, before walking off and away…departing the chamber.

The other son took one last decisive bite, before standing up in kind. “As will I, father… I must attend to my studies” he respectfully said before…walking off and departing the chamber in kind.

Now it was only the sir and his youngest of sons, a silence ensuing.

Blossom as with all the other junior maids remained standing in place, watching this all befall. What a stable and loving family, indeed. Many of the juniors seemed…rather shocked and startled, though hid such behind their gracious faces. This was all unexpected, especially with respect to the stories they had heard as young girls growing up regarding the nobility and the feudality who so ruled over the lowborn and commonfolk such as they themselves.

Yet such were not the stories Blossom had heard; she was not surprised by this. Though…even compared to that family and house she herself was so…blood-related to, this one seemed more…not-so-functional.

Sir Berrybottom began to tap at the table as his other son departed away, inhaling and exhaling, calming his frustrated soul. His youngest son remained and simply ate.

The sir wiped his tempered forehead, sighing; “…am I the only one here who thinks of the future…beyond my life?” he began to lament aloud, “Selfish…idiots… To think my own sons would become Far Western-rotted liberals…who only think of themselves, not of generations to come or of their blood or family…”

“Ironic…” Blossom’s silently blurted, only to be hushed again. Oh, the irony of such words coming from the likes of him.

Sir Berrybottom turned to his youngest; “You… you are the only true son I have; I see it in you… You are destined to lead this house… I see it, I know… You will pave the path to the restoration our forebearers’ greatness…no, surpass it, and even if not with you, most certainly your sons will” he remarked, the youngest simply…yet faintly…smiling.

The sir so obviously had his favorite. Maybe that was why the others were so bitter…

“I will not betray you or this house, father. I know my blood, and I will not lower it in the mud. I will carry our blood forward, towards greatness” so replied the youngest.

“That is my boy! Always with the words I want to hear” so complimented Sir Berrybottom; “Now then, how are your spellcasting studies moving?”

“Excellently! At this progress, I will have practically mastered fire and life magic well before I am on my way to the Collegium” the youngest replied.

“Good! Good! And what of your swordsmen tutoring?” Sir Berrybottom continued.

As this continued on, Blossom could tell—or presuppose, really—from the…type of voice and smile the youngest had that he was such a pompous and smug boy.

Yuck.

Yet Blossom’s eyes peeked at Miranda who was looking at him with an odd…slight grin, her fang-like canines seeming more prominent than their usual. Wait… Was she…interested in him??

Regardless, with all the others gone, it was now quite the father-son moment. They talked and laughed, finishing their meal. Ending their dinner, the youngest retreated away with a father’s boy smile.

Sir Berrybottom stood in place near his behooving chair; it was now just him and the maids. “I ask that you all act as if you witnessed nothing, as always” he stated, before eyeing the juniors; “and I apologize to you…new arrivals for having to witness that” he respectfully apologized; “Anyway, clean this up…and any leftovers, you are free to have” he said before departing away, exiting the chamber.

“Alrightly! Get to it, ladies! Ensure this room is as clean as the crystals of a sunny-cave” so ordered a lead maid as all the service maids retreated.

Ah, so that was why the juniors were all standing here: to both watch the expected behaviors and to be the cleanup.

Yet the eyes of all the junior maids glimmered so abruptly. They had all smelled the same scent of that meal, and they were all rather hungry. How gracious, indeed, for them to be allowed to feast as much as they.

Blossom, however, did not feel the same. She saw that they were simply being given the mere scraps left behind by those higher souls, an insult in disguise… at least to her.

Though, hmm… Her mind lingered…“…Billhook, was that his name?” her breaths whispered to herself. She had perhaps…resonated…with those words spoken by that son. Indeed, he…seemed to be one with whom…there could be quite the conversation.

She hoped to be able to speak with him, sometime. She certainly wanted to.