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As much as he didn't choose this city and most days, he feels the city didn't want him either, Esperanza loves looking at the coast and the ocean.
There's something bigger than what he can express, looking at the waves coming to crash on the jagged edges of the cliff at the higher ground of Lotto Valentino. His mansion is maybe a 10 minute walk to the coast and if he looks below to his right, he can see the bustling cities and the harbor, seeing ships come by and leave, merchandise trending, people always moving. Just like the waves, they come and go, always cyclical, yet it would be embellishing to say it was always the same merchants, the same town people, the same faces getting lost in the crowd.
Esperanza knows, of course. Theoretically knows all these peoples names and can recognize strangers among them, because he's aware of the city population he's in charge of.
It's such a weight sometimes. As the years go by, there are more and more strangers coming here and establishing their residence. And there are less familiar faces because either people move on with their life or they die and he's-
He's the governor of Lotto Valentino.
He's still here. Was appointed here. Continues to stay here, because there's not much the rest of Italy can say about it, without ocurring the wrath of its citizens, the police or the alchemists residing inside the city walls.
Even as this the population of alchemists is decreasing as the years goes by, the rest of the world is not willing to take a chance. Still, nobody else would want to be in charge of Lotto Valentino, since it's fundamentally a useless, worthless job. But as someone who is seen just as worthless, a farce, the Clown governor they call him, Esperanza can only take his job very seriously. And try his best to maybe, maybe, make the life of the citizens a little easier, a little better.
And when he's overwhelmed by the amount of pressure it puts on his shoulder - Well, he comes to look at the waves and tells himself just because things are coming and going, it doesn't mean they will always stay the same.
Just as the waves slowly carve into the rocks, dissolving into the sea, the city being eaten by its coast… He comes by the sea. And Esperanza smell the ocean air, feel the wind run through his long hair -always tied, never free, he can not allow his hair to be loose-, feel the tension in his bones, joints, remember the time passing by - too slow, too slow, too much, why can't this be over yet, when all that he deemed important is either dead, gone or frozen in time, too much, too much-
He
He comes by the sea. And try to remember why he's all doing this in the first place.
Look at the ship passing by, leaving the city.
Sometimes, wishing to be them.
Strangely, he's not wishing to be one of the people aboard, no, Esperanza could never imagine being in their shoes. He knows the basic of being a marchant, a trader, sometime a noble even - He's very good at pretending to be one of those, not that he wants to be, not that he likes to be, much rather like he'll loudly declare to anyone willing to hear or not how much he loathes men. Being a noble is all he'll ever be and he will play his role well. But no, he can not pretend to be anyone on those ships. They all have their burden to carry and he has his.
He'd much rather be just like the ship itself. Being pulled by its sail wherever the wind guides him and then he remembers, there are navigators to take charge of these sails and guide the ship toward its destination. Truly, nothing is ever free and Esperanza himself cannot know freedom.
He then sighs and takes his bones, feeling the pressure in them as he slowly takes the 15 minute walk to the city. He'll maybe glance a wistful sight back to the pier, to the waves coming and crashing and try to remember-
Tries
Things are ever so changing, days by days.
Better things are coming, you just have to continue.
Even as you feel you are crumbling into pieces… You are still here and still have to continue.
Because not trying to make things better would be an insult to everything that has been done so far.
Small steps at a time.
Time.
Time is so long when you are all alone.
There is a certain number of abandoned buildings still lingering into Lotto Valentino town center. A good number of them are libraries, he knows,but still Esperanza is not certain what he should do about those inhabited edifices.
Thus, he starts his routine for the day and decides he'll have to make a decision about those later.
Esperanza, as soon as he hired his servant staff, had rather strongly insisted they would not participate in his grooming routine. Not only does he not need them to help him get dressed and prepared- but it would be diminishing to ask perfect creatures such as women to help maintain the appearance of a lowly man. As such, unless it's for a special event of soiree - and God knows, he doesn't get invited to a lot of those- he insists on grooming himself and getting prepared on his own.
Esperanza knows they don't mind the work. After all, he pays them well and they still tend to the manor and the cooking - but asking them to put his clothes on or to tend to his hair feels like a step too much, one he'd rather not think about, because he'll never be that type of man.
It's not like it's a long process either. Maybe 20 minutes or so. It probably wouldn't last as long if he didn't linger at certain steps, but… Could you blame Esperanza, really? It's normal to feel slow and sluggish in the morning when getting prepared. Ignoring the fact that by the time he naturally wakes, it's already been an hour his servants have been working, doing their task and he's still in bed, reluctant to face the day.
After a few moments, he reluctantly gets up, only to sit down in front of his boudoir, next to the mirror mounted on the wall. He'll first pass a fine toothed brush through his long hair, making sure to detangle any knots. There is more and more gray in his hair those days, Eperanza observes, not that anyone could notice unless they were paying attention. After all, the gray and white hairs are evenly dispersed, but still striking the brown slowly and slowly. Yet, he could consider himself lucky. He knows not so young men his age or younger that have lost all their hair and still try to hide it behind wigs. They pretend it's what is currently trending in Fashion- and to be fair, it is- but Esperanza knows better and those are just the excuses they found to preserve their dignity.
He has his own dignity to protect also. This is why once he has finished detangling his hair, he gathers it back tightly and ties it with a bow. Make sure no strands escape, tightly confined.
He will then make sure to get his cream and knife if he has to shave. He doesn't need to everyday and today is one of these days, so Esperanza simply makes sure they are in their place in the drawer. Wistfully passing a finger carefully on the blade- making sure it's sharp, just so easy to- He then gets up. This part of his routine, he does a little mechanically. He'll disrobe from his sleeping clothes, put on his breeches, stockings, trousers, his chemise and coat, make sure there are no wrinkles on the fabric, that they look pristine. He has an appearance to keep. He will then sit down again and put the finishing touch by getting out his makeup. Some might find him ridiculous for still painting the small stars underneath his eyes after all those years. It's more of a habit at this point and his face feels empty without them. He will also paint a small line of black under the water line of both eyes, not that it distracts much from his dark circles.
It's like the colorful appearance of exotic animals. Poisonous snakes with radiant scales, strange sea animals with bright colors that could kill you by a simple touch...It's his way of saying don't you know you should not approach me.
Esperanza will then sigh and cast a last glance at the mirror, being done and technically prepared for the day. He'll then take a moment to glance at the portrait framed on his boudoir. He remembered when it was painted for the first time.
He was still in the awkward stage between young adult and truly grown up. He remembers being about 16 and told to stand next to the red armchair, resting one of his hands on it. His father is standing next to him and Esperanza looks at the painting, comparing their height, all skinny long limbs in his case, but sure confident, standing straight in the case of his father. He remembers he was slouching slightly and later had a vicious back pain from standing there hour on end, but he still remember being surprised looking at the finishing painting and seeing he was the same height as his father even when trying to make himself smaller. Now that he has grown into his body more and as he is closer to his father's age now than to his 16 years old self, he wonders if this version of him would recognize his body or just see his father when looking at him in the present. If he'd cut his hair and changed his clothing,he could probably pass as his father. Except from the smile shining on his father's face and the proud look on his face. Esperanza can't imagine himself making this expression. If he would try to force it, it would turn into a sad grimace.
On the other side of the plush armchair is standing his mother. She's also standing straight, looking regal, he remembers the glee on her face as he knows that for the occasion, she'd worn her favorite dress. She also proudly showed the intricate necklace dipping into her collarbone, it had been a wedding anniversary present from his father. She also is radiating happiness and Esperanza has to divert his eyes from the portrait before he stops into the figure painted into the armchair, looking so very small,because she was so very young and this was the last portrait they had as a family before everything happened and -
Truly, this is a smaller reproduction of the original. He had commissioned a local artist to paint it a few years after the fact, when he was just getting installed into Lotto Valentino. He had described the original painting to the best of his capacity, along with a few sketches to the painter he had tasked with the finished product and the man had done a tremendous job putting exactly what Esperanza had in his head into the painting. Yet, he can't look at her face in the portrait for some reason.
There's something wrong with it. Because Maribel is also smiling into it, with all her childhood innocence and awkwardness. And he's the only one feeling miserable.
So, he gets up and leaves his room, prepared to affront the day. The half an hour it takes to get to the city even on horseback won't make it itself and he still has a problem of abandoned libraries to take care of.
The man standing in front of him is a stranger and yet, he's not.
Arguably, Esperanza knows him. Knew him. Maybe that would be better to say, he knew him when was younger, knew him as a diligent student of one of the libraries, he forgot what number the library had been. But he knew the young man, never by name, but by reputation and general recognition. He was an alchemy student. He had come to Lotto Valentino before him and Esperanza didn't know the reason he had come to the city. Maybe he was a local. Maybe he was running away from something. It had been none of his business to ask and the man never caused trouble, he was an exemplary scholar. He'd even written a couple of papers, impressing with his sharp minds and had wowed enough people to get invited aboard that ship that had left along all those years ago to get to America.
This is why Esperanza is so surprised to see him gathering papers and books that so far only had gathered dust in the library… He doesn't remember which number it is. Maybe it is the same library that has taught this young man in the past or maybe it was another one. He seems to have been there for quite a while, since there are a rather big number of volumes gathered in a large bag at his feet. He's standing in front of one of the book shelves near the entrance. Another clue to the time this man has already spent here is the general disarray the rest of the room is. Not the kind of disarray that came from years of no one entering the room, but one indicating he has already searched through it and taken what he came to look at already. Not that it matters much anyway, nor that it explains the man's presence in the library or his appearance in general.
Because of course, Esperanza has heard the rumors. He's seen Dalton himself too, not aged one wrinkle on his old face, despite the ones Esperanza has started to show on his forehead. But seeing it with someone he knew as young strikes him much more, because it is undeniable-
The man looks exactly the same as the day he left the city, despite all the time that has passed since then. He's standing tall there, in his mid-twenty, the naivety of early adulthood still in his chubby cheeks, though the looks in his eyes speak of much more experience than the stranger that once was his age.
Because it's exactly like looking at a stranger when gazing at the man. Looking at someone you once vaguely knew, but no longer recognizing them, despite the fact you know who it is.
In the eyes of the young man, he can tell he has recognized Esperanza as well and seems just as surprised to see his presence. Esperanza can't tell if he didn't expect someone to also enter the abandoned building or it's because it's him precisely, but before he can decide on how to read his expression, the stranger clumsily smiles and tells him:
- You're still the governor of this place then? Good, it's great that the citizens have someone reliable that won't interfere. Something just never changes.
This sentence comes and hits him, afflicts him in ways he can't process. He has no time to process it however, as after that, the man simply turns back to the shelf he was perusing when Esperanza first came in. He continues his job of looking at the spine of the books, occasionally pulling on out and flipping through it as he continues :
- If you don't mind, I was just gathering a few things around here. I won't be long, so don't let my presence bother you.
The older man - because truly Esperanza was always maybe a few years older than the stranger in front of him, even back then,though now he wonders if their age gap truly applies in this scenario- swallows his saliva and tries to remember where he is standing. The abandoned library of no circumstances and the stranger currently plundering it don't answer him. He wants to ask questions. Really. What is the young man doing here, how and when did he get back and for what, certainly not for the forgotten knowledge lying dormant in one of the innumerable abandoned libraries populating Lotto Valentino. He ponders why it was the one library Esperanza was scheduled to visit in order to determine what to do with the building and if the citizens could repurpose it to another end the trespasser decided to also make a stop by. However, it's not that he can make any remarks to the man.
Esperanza himself is not an alchemist after all and the man is. And if someone has a right to determine what they should do with the building and the wisdom it arbors, it's one of the alchemists that have built this knowledge.
As it stands, the noble man stands awkwardly, feeling like he's staring at the man, yet he can't tear his eyes away from him. Because simply… His appearance, his young demeanor and yet, the way the stranger carries himself speaks of an entire lifetime. Esperanza is no longer a young man himself and if it has been a long time for him, he can't say if it has been as long for the alchemist. After all, the man is continuing to gather documents, stopping occasionally to take notes in a small carnet he keeps in his breast pocket for any books he puts back on the shelf.
He should probably do something himself too. He moves very cautiously, not willing to disturb the scholar in his research. However, once this one has established that Esperanza was not a menace to him, he seems to entirely focus on his task of picking what he wants to bring of this library and what he's leaving behind for the governor to deal with. He's already taken a good number of books and research, nonetheless Esperanza contemplated the number of papers he'll still have to relocate and all the furnitures, desks he'll have to empty, chairs he'll need to make sure are sturdy before he decides- do they stay or do they go? What will be their next utility? What to do with knowledge nobody wants to claim and they all left behind?
After what seems like entirely too long, but was 45 minutes at most, the man stops and turns once again to Esperanza. An innocent smile is still gracelessly shining on the man's face and he feels a shiver run through his spine. The stranger approaches the governor and he tries not to recoal when he touches him, pat him on the arm:
- Thank you for your patience. Now, I have a few other places to visit before my boat leaves, so don't mind if I don't stay to exchange pleasantries. Oh and if another alchemist comes by and looks for me, I was never here in the first place, got it?
Esperanza numbly nods as the man continues to smile at him. He hasn't let go of his arm and he wants to rip his coat out of the stranger's grasp when the man has done nothing more than be agreeable. He only harmlessly took some of the books that would most likely get moved and forgotten once again in another library, already full of stuff, overflowing with it. Yet, Esperanza can't get rid of any of it, because he doesn't know what is precious or what would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.
So he simply continued to stare as the man finally released him, gathered his bag and left, never to be seen again.
He never learns or remembers what his name was.
He was a nice youthful man. He simply no longer recognizes him.
Wind is rattling the windows of the manor, threatening to rip them off. The thick clouds and the hail are covering the dark sky, being once in a while lightened by the occasional flash of thunder. These flashes of light are quickly followed by the strong roars of the booming electricity, among the scream of the wind, the rain beating down the walls.
It's among all these noises that a guest comes knocking at the door of his manor.
With the temperature outside, Esperanza certainly didn't expect a guest. This one is dressed in rather nice if not completely soaked clothes, not anything fancy, but certainly currently in style and in good condition, indicating that the teenager - they can't be older than early adulthood, though everyone looks appealingly young to Esperanza those days - must at least have someone sending them money. Because if they have a guardian, who would let a child knock at the crazy aristocrat house in the middle of all this hail.
Regardless. Esperanza is a gentleman and he will treat this young guest with the respect that they deserve by inviting them in. He'll carefully guide them as to not wet any of the precarious balancing piles of books spread here and there on the way to the foyer. He'll also bring them towels and a change of clothes, since theirs is starting to soak through the carpet. He has… redecorated is not quite the right word, but it's the one he'll go with. He redecorated not too long ago and it would be an insult to his staff to pull all their hard work to shame.
The young visitor only seem mildly miffed by the water drenching them to the bone. The expression on their face and the faraway look in their eyes indicated that they most have more pressing issues weighing them down far greater than the rain. It surely must have a heavy burden for the blonde to walk all this way to his manor at this time. They still take the towels handed to them to roughly pass one in their curly shoulder length blond hair. The state of their appearance is a mess, but they don't seem to mind as they continue to stare at Esperanza, a frown on their young face and daggers in their golden eyes.
Esperanza could feel almost intimidated, maybe. Yet, it must be about 11 O'Clock, though it's hard to tell with the thunder, wind and rain. As a result, he feels far too tired to feel anything else but deep exhaustion when looking at the blond.
There's something so familiar in their face, especially as they proudly stand in front of him and declare:
- I came here to demand you procure me a ship.
He doesn't even take to properly be aghast at the audacity of the teenager when he answers:
- Absolutely not.
His guest seems to lose the tiny speck of composure they vaguely had. It's hard to take them seriously as they still look like a drenched kitten, still dripping onto the carpet. Their blond curly hair is still a mess and there's thunder in their eyes, bright like the one flashing outside. They are trying to pose as menacing, but they only look vaguely pitiful as they declare:
- Well, how else am I supposed to make it to America then?!
Esperanza continues looking at the blond, seeing as they're almost shaking with concealed rage - he wishes it was from the cold seeping into their clothes, but given their expression, it's not that-, barely holding themself together. They're clenching their teeth together, likely resisting screaming and losing the little dignity they still have. The way the weight of the water is weighing down their garments of the teenager down, they look small and deplorable. Yet, the fury continues to burn inside of them and Esperanza can only feel like he's over all this, he doesn't have the patience to deal with this. He is so tired.
- It's not only a ship that you're asking for. There's also the sailors, the ratios, the money to buy all of this and much more. And then, you have to think, what would be your plan once you get to America? I'm not sending a teenager to die in another land. You have no idea what you're demanding.
The blonde looks at him like Esperanza deeply insulted them. And he supposed in a way he did by not answering their demand and belittling it like that. But he's a man of principle and honor. And he won't answer the foolish orders of a child that clearly doesn't know the way of the world yet. So he continues to stand his ground, facing his guest next to the foyer. They are still dripping onto the carpet.
- What else am I supposed to do then?!
The despair is clear in their voice, slightly trembling, just like the way their body is shivering. Yet, they are still standing, defensively in front of Esperanza as if they are ready to physically attack. Their golden eyes are still glaring at him, electricity running, thunder rolling. Yet, he can't feel sorry for the young person. They may have guts, but if they came here thinking they would get an easy solution to all their problems, they are clearly naive. Problem doesn't get resolved just like that, with a ship taking you away from the small town that is slowly killing you. A ship is not an answer.
You cannot become your own vessel to freedom if you don't know your place, don't understand the burden you carry and have no plan to get to your goal.
So, he simply smile at the young blond and answer them calmly:
- You're still young. You'll figure it out.
With this sentence, the teenager looks like they finally have gotten enough. However, instead of lashing out at him, like he expected, they simply turn on their heel and make their way back to the door. On their way, as if rethinking their action, they stop and turn once again to glare at Esperanza. He maintains their gaze. The blond looked him in the face and simply pushed the pile of books they were standing next to. The crash the volumes make as they hit the carpeted floor is just as deafening as the thunder outside. Esperanza surprises a wince as he watches a couple lose sheets of papers fly everywhere. He hopes they aren't ruined.
His guest points at him with his right hands and proclaims loudly :
- Everyone in town is calling you a senile, crazy old man!!
They then slam the door behind them. The silence planes for a moment in the room, before it's once again broken by the sound of thunder and the clock hitting midnight. Esperanza looks at the abandoned towels and unused clothes, the books now spread in a mess. Look at the temperature outside once again and decide it's going to be a job for tomorrow.
Or maybe a day after that to change the carpet.
There are even more books accumulating in his manors.
He doesn't know what to do with them.
There are more and more of those these days a greater number of what were once libraries are getting repurpose and still there is so much of them, the task of moving the knowledge to another one is no longer working, because if they are all overflowing and they are all empty, what can he truly do -
So Esperanza gathers even more books and with reluctance, asks his servants' staff to help him carry it back to the manor. He feels awful for making them do that, but - All the women that have recently asked to work for him are willing to do the job. They know his back isn't what it used to be.
He hopes they understand why he can't let those papers go to waste. Much of the knowledge contained in them has been long proved wrong or as nothing achievable with their current level of science, yet the ideas proposed in them are both genius and scary. Of course, that is, when Esperanza can even understand the book. He was educated, of course, but he never was a scholar and even less an alchemist. So, a lot of what is discussed in them goes a little bit over his head. It doesn't help that his vision either is not what it used to be. But he knows those books are far too dangerous to be given in the street. Along with all the work put into them, the things they speculate, burning them would be far too drastic. He just hasn't found the right person to take care of them yet.
So, the right person he will be for now.
His mansion has more books than anything else. He doesn't want to ask what will become of the rest of the libraries once he truly no longer has space to put all of them. He already emptied most of his cupboard to put books in. The staff that haven't quit yet doesn't seem to mind much, surprisingly. Their job now is mostly tending to the library shelves he has purchased, making sure the books that linger on every surface of his house, sometimes even the floor, are neat and tidy. No dust on any of the new furniture, all the books tightly packed so they can find more of them in any nook and cranny. He watches a couple of the younger women, the one that has asked to work for him personally recently, also spending their time reading anything they can get their hands on. It makes him glad. There is far enough reading material to last a few lifetimes.
He knows he'll die among all this knowledge he cannot understand and is probably outdated.
Yet, much like the libraries, his presence is still here. Others might have abandoned them, but he'll take care of them.
Because he knows what it is to be lonely.
It truly doesn't get better with age.