The garden was in shambles. The bricks in the road were uprooted by the roots of flowers growing out of control. Violets, lavenders, and delphiniums grew aplenty, outside of their garden beds. Trees withered, while hedges grew wildly, blocking the path in inconvenient ways. My jaw set, as I stared over the area.
"Where's the Groundskeeper?" I muttered. Seeing Kartham, then this? Maybe the past wasn't as great as I thought.
A fat older man came out from behind a bush. His stubby nose was already red, his shirt untucked, and yawning. He stopped when he saw me, a grin plastered across his face. The ground stayed in place, yet he treated it like a swinging bridge.
"Evening, young master," he said, bowing towards me. The resultant view blinded me, my eyes seething with rage.
"Be quiet," I said, creating a chuckle from an unwanted direction.
"Yes, sir." He stood straight again, looking me in the eye. I glared back. He grinned wider.
"Why is the garden in this state?" My fists tightened, clutching at nothing, while he kept his grin. We stood there in silence for at least a minute before I opened my mouth. "Go on, speak!"
"Make up your mind, young master," the Groundskeeper said, standing with a bent back, though his head looked straight through me.
"What?" I planted my foot forwards, a threatening action, but he didn't even blink.
"'Be quiet,' you said, then tell me a second later to speak, young master." His gaze stayed fixed on something behind me. I stopped myself from looking, instead frowning. "If you're to be a great man, you mustn't confuse others unintentionally." Finally, he looked at me. Directly in my eyes, where I stared back, unafraid of a drunk I didn't know the name of.
My frown deepened. Was he being intentional with confusing me? Or was he just so drunk, he's had a complete one-eighty spin in personality? Or...
"Are you... instructing me?" I asked, taking another step forwards. "Someone who's already drunk half the country's supply of alcohol?"
"Well, sure," he said, laughing before going into a coughing fit. "Excuse me, my age is catching up to me."
Great. I've got debtors, a butler who might hurt me, a bastard of a father, and a powerful woman who wants to thrust me into danger, supposedly. And now I've got an old drunk proposing himself as my better.
"I think it's the drinking," I said, sighing while pinching the bridge of my nose.
"That too," he said, laughing loudly. It grated me.
"Don't you dare show me such disrespect." I pointed a finger up at him. He took a step back, clutching a hand to his chest.
"Why, I'm sorry, young master. I meant no disrespect. It's rare I get such fine company out here, what with you being stuck in your room while your dad's stuck to a bottle." He sighed, turning towards the flowers, his wrinkles deepening. "There's no other servants here, to the once proud Clement's."
"Are you forgetting someone, Gerald?" said a voice from behind me. I turned around, finding Harry wheeling a trolley of food, without a squeak of metal. Gerald, the Groundskeeper, spat on the ground.
"No, I'm not," he said, reaching into his pocket. His eyes landed on me, and he pulled his hand back out, holding nothing. I frowned, looking towards Harry. He stood there solemnly, if looking a little ticked off. "Anyways, I'm sure you wanted dinner outside. I'll walk you to the gazebo." He turned around, scratching his arm.
I could see the gazebo above the foliage of flowers and hedges, yet the path we took was narrow and windy, even requiring them both to stoop beneath the middle of two hedges that decided to grow together. Being small was handy.
After a rough journey, we reached the gazebo, which was beaten down. I hesitated to believe it had been taken care of once in the last ten years. The seats stood, held together by spit and twine. "I promise it'll hold," Gerald said, lying down on an even worse bench that had already collapsed.
"Please sit, young master," Harry said, motioning to the seat in the best condition. "Can we get some privacy, Gerald?"
"To poison the impressionable youth? No, thank-"
"Do I seem an impressionable youth to you, Groundskeeper?" I asked, kicking the bench he was laying down on. He blinked at me. "How about you go do your job, and clean this garden up to an acceptable standard?"
"Uh," Gerald said, getting to his feet. I kicked his shin this time. "Ow, ow! Alright, young master, I'm on it!" Finally, he stood up, though not rushing as fast as I would have liked, I doubted he could leave faster.
I took my seat. Harry stood next to me, serving me tasty food.