The Emperor's Daily Nitpicking
The spring in the old Parson’s estate was actually quite nice, with a broad-leaved Chinese privet tree in the back garden. Its massive shade could envelop the refreshment table and let in just the right amount of sunlight. There were also new stalks of berries stretching out of the fence. Although the berries had beautiful red colour and were full of juice, they couldn’t escape being plucked until bare.
Oswald was the one with the vicious hand that plucked the berries.
It was because he had nothing to do besides reading and plucking fruits and flowers.
This eight-year-old young master in the old Parson’s manor was gloomy and difficult, as the few servants in the estate used to say in private. But in reality, they didn’t have much interaction with him. Besides the usual daily routine of preparing three meals and tidying the estate, they hardly appeared in front of Oswald.
Without anyone to play with and being forbidden to go out, these two points were enough to force an eight-year-old boy into madness. Moreover, he was in a state of disguised abandonment – The Parson family had long moved to the new estate. His father and three brothers, who he didn’t even know what they looked like, were there. They only left Oswald with an old house, several lifeless servants, and an old housekeeper with a stern face, Ian.
Ian was a prickly man. He disliked many things – curved curtain fringes, asymmetrical plates, or a slightly crooked table line. He was particularly disapproved of Oswald because this unlucky child didn’t follow any rules at all.
Saying that he was a housekeeper, Ian was more of an inflexible and hard-to-please instructor. His lifetime project was to smoothen Oswald from hair to heel into a proper straight line that followed the rules.
The abnormal growing environment brought Oswald into an early rebellious phase. This probably originated from his instinct, as if the harder the hoof kicked, it would be more likely to attract attention. However, he didn’t attract the attention of the family’s elders but Kevin’s tutelage.
Ian brought in Kevin because the fussy old housekeeper discovered he couldn’t control the eight-year-old Oswald anymore.
“Hello, little guy. I’m Kevin Fassbinder. I’m in charge of teaching you swordsmanship and fighting from now.” This was the thing Kevin said when he first appeared in front of Oswald.
Kevin, who looked seventeen-or-eighteen years old at that time, was also in the transition period between adolescence and adulthood. He wore the standard reserve army attire with a narrow waist and legs like a sheathed sabre.
His Excellency Sabre sat beside the refreshment table with his leg crossed while eating crackers; his posture relaxed and wasn’t very proper. But there was no denying that Oswald had an excellent first impression of him.
Younger boys would always have an unspoken longing and admiration for the older boys who looked sharp and collected.
Kevin patted the crumbs of crackers off his hand and narrowed his eyes. “I heard you disliked to be patted in your head. Coincidentally, I also don’t like that.” He spoke while getting up and walked forward two steps. He then bent his waist and extended out a hand, smiling. “I hope I won’t make you feel annoyed.”
His fingers were long and neat, looking as good as his appearance.
The eight-year-old Oswald, who hadn’t fully awake from the sleepiness of his nap, stared at the extended hand for a long time before reaching out to hold it.
He put on a young master’s face and said, “I don’t dislike you, and even quite like you.”
Under the shade of the Chinese privet tree and the lazy chirping of the spring spotted birds, Oswald woke up.
*****
He sat on the spacious bed while pinching the space between his brows. As he listened to the muffled thunder rumblings outside, he suddenly didn’t have the mood to continue sleeping anymore. He simply put on a cloth and walked out of the room in giant strides.
The sky was still dark, and heavy rain poured down outside.
He waved at the guard on night duty, indicating they didn’t need to follow. Then, he turned in a corner and arrived in front of the study door.
The study door was opened wide, and the person inside casually slumped on the table, already losing his consciousness long ago.
Oswald: “…..”
He just held his arm and leaned against the door, calmly waiting. He wanted to see when His Excellency Fassbinder would notice his arrival.
Probably because the scene in his dream earlier was so gentle and peaceful, Oswald seemed exceptionally patient with a rare absence of the anger in his heart.
Unfortunately, Kevin had a profound sleep for some reason and didn’t have the slightest hint of waking up.
Oswald listened to the rainstorm outside the corridor and watched him for a while. He finally couldn’t continue to stand upright and stepped into the study.
Kevin rested sideways on his left arm with his right hand on the opened codex. A stack of parchments was pressed under the codex, and a writing brush was placed on the edge. There were several ink spots on the paper from the brush tip; it was extremely messy.
Oswald squinted and glared at Kevin for a while. Then, he raised his hand to remove the right paw from the codex and set the codex aside, exposing the papers underneath it.
Just as expected, he didn’t copy a single word!
His Excellency Kevin Fassbinder sat inside the study with a solemn ambience, using the emperor’s precious writing brush and the first-rate parchments to draw a bunch of monsters and devils.
Oswald had the fortune to experience Kevin’s drawing skills a few times during those years. With his extraordinary imagination and understanding of Kevin, he guessed there was a mountain hare fatter than a pig, a giant sea turtle uglier than a tortoise, a lion with a stupid fierce face, a feather-less vulture, and a chick-like black hawk on the drawing…..
There was even a huge cross drawn next to it. The lively image represented one phrase – worse than a beast.
Oswald: “…..”
This was probably a form of Kevin’s dissatisfaction with him. After all, the punishment of copying one hundred times wasn’t something that could be done.
He glanced at Kevin and picked up that piece of parchment with a grimace. He just wanted to take a brush and mark it with “already inspected, adding punishment” when he noticed Kevin had also drawn something on another parchment under it.
That should be a human face with one large and one small eye that looked very asymmetrical, and there was a stumble of a line as the nose in the middle. Next to it were messy vertical lines; it wasn’t known whether this was a revision or an attempt to shade the nose.
A matchless ugly mouth could be faintly seen underneath the lump of shadows.
What the hell was this?
Oswald stared at the paper for a long time before distinguishing a tree and table behind that human face, which still made people unable to stare at it directly.
A tree shade? A table? A person?
These few things gathered together and made a scene flashed through Oswald’s mind. He mulled it over for a while, and his face turned black instantly.
“Tuk! Tuk! Tuk!” Oswald flexed a finger and heavily tapped the table.
“Huh?” Kevin grunted and opened his eyes with a frown. He looked at him with a weary and blank face.
“What was this thing that you drew?” Oswald flicked the piece of paper.
“Oh…..” Kevin vaguely replied as he fell back again on his arm and closed his eyes.
The backyard of the Parson’s estate.
Oswald leaned closer and heard him saying this.
It turned out that it wasn’t enough for this ancestor to reminisce the time when he could beat him; he even had to draw it out. Since he drew the backyard of the Parson’s estate, then it was apparent what this thing that didn’t look like a human or ghost was.
Oswald: “…..”
The scene in that dream flashed through Oswald’s mind again, and he remembered the first thing he said when he met this ancestor. He practically wanted to return to that time and cut off his own tongue.
Like an ass! It would be damn if he didn’t hate it.
“Get up!” Oswald heavily tapped the table again.
Kevin frowned and waved his hand, giving a vague answer. “Later, so sleepy.”
Oswald frowned, “Do you or I have the final say?”
Kevin didn’t even wave his hand this time and didn’t respond at all.
“Hey –” Oswald glared at him for a while. He still wanted to call him but noticed that Kevin had a long breath and seemed to fall asleep again. However, his frown hadn’t loosened and seemed full of weariness that didn’t match his usual self.
Oswald’s finger froze, feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
What happened to Kevin? 「(°ヘ°)
And let’s welcome the debut of Kevin’s extremely abstract drawing that only Oswald could understand! (∗´꒳`)
Chapter 16: CH 16
Oswald was the one with the vicious hand that plucked the berries.
It was because he had nothing to do besides reading and plucking fruits and flowers.
This eight-year-old young master in the old Parson’s manor was gloomy and difficult, as the few servants in the estate used to say in private. But in reality, they didn’t have much interaction with him. Besides the usual daily routine of preparing three meals and tidying the estate, they hardly appeared in front of Oswald.
Without anyone to play with and being forbidden to go out, these two points were enough to force an eight-year-old boy into madness. Moreover, he was in a state of disguised abandonment – The Parson family had long moved to the new estate. His father and three brothers, who he didn’t even know what they looked like, were there. They only left Oswald with an old house, several lifeless servants, and an old housekeeper with a stern face, Ian.
Ian was a prickly man. He disliked many things – curved curtain fringes, asymmetrical plates, or a slightly crooked table line. He was particularly disapproved of Oswald because this unlucky child didn’t follow any rules at all.
Saying that he was a housekeeper, Ian was more of an inflexible and hard-to-please instructor. His lifetime project was to smoothen Oswald from hair to heel into a proper straight line that followed the rules.
The abnormal growing environment brought Oswald into an early rebellious phase. This probably originated from his instinct, as if the harder the hoof kicked, it would be more likely to attract attention. However, he didn’t attract the attention of the family’s elders but Kevin’s tutelage.
Ian brought in Kevin because the fussy old housekeeper discovered he couldn’t control the eight-year-old Oswald anymore.
“Hello, little guy. I’m Kevin Fassbinder. I’m in charge of teaching you swordsmanship and fighting from now.” This was the thing Kevin said when he first appeared in front of Oswald.
Kevin, who looked seventeen-or-eighteen years old at that time, was also in the transition period between adolescence and adulthood. He wore the standard reserve army attire with a narrow waist and legs like a sheathed sabre.
His Excellency Sabre sat beside the refreshment table with his leg crossed while eating crackers; his posture relaxed and wasn’t very proper. But there was no denying that Oswald had an excellent first impression of him.
Younger boys would always have an unspoken longing and admiration for the older boys who looked sharp and collected.
Kevin patted the crumbs of crackers off his hand and narrowed his eyes. “I heard you disliked to be patted in your head. Coincidentally, I also don’t like that.” He spoke while getting up and walked forward two steps. He then bent his waist and extended out a hand, smiling. “I hope I won’t make you feel annoyed.”
His fingers were long and neat, looking as good as his appearance.
The eight-year-old Oswald, who hadn’t fully awake from the sleepiness of his nap, stared at the extended hand for a long time before reaching out to hold it.
He put on a young master’s face and said, “I don’t dislike you, and even quite like you.”
Under the shade of the Chinese privet tree and the lazy chirping of the spring spotted birds, Oswald woke up.
*****
He sat on the spacious bed while pinching the space between his brows. As he listened to the muffled thunder rumblings outside, he suddenly didn’t have the mood to continue sleeping anymore. He simply put on a cloth and walked out of the room in giant strides.
He waved at the guard on night duty, indicating they didn’t need to follow. Then, he turned in a corner and arrived in front of the study door.
The study door was opened wide, and the person inside casually slumped on the table, already losing his consciousness long ago.
Oswald: “…..”
He just held his arm and leaned against the door, calmly waiting. He wanted to see when His Excellency Fassbinder would notice his arrival.
Probably because the scene in his dream earlier was so gentle and peaceful, Oswald seemed exceptionally patient with a rare absence of the anger in his heart.
Unfortunately, Kevin had a profound sleep for some reason and didn’t have the slightest hint of waking up.
Oswald listened to the rainstorm outside the corridor and watched him for a while. He finally couldn’t continue to stand upright and stepped into the study.
Kevin rested sideways on his left arm with his right hand on the opened codex. A stack of parchments was pressed under the codex, and a writing brush was placed on the edge. There were several ink spots on the paper from the brush tip; it was extremely messy.
Oswald squinted and glared at Kevin for a while. Then, he raised his hand to remove the right paw from the codex and set the codex aside, exposing the papers underneath it.
Just as expected, he didn’t copy a single word!
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However, the paper wasn’t completely blank. Except for words, everything else was all there.His Excellency Kevin Fassbinder sat inside the study with a solemn ambience, using the emperor’s precious writing brush and the first-rate parchments to draw a bunch of monsters and devils.
Oswald had the fortune to experience Kevin’s drawing skills a few times during those years. With his extraordinary imagination and understanding of Kevin, he guessed there was a mountain hare fatter than a pig, a giant sea turtle uglier than a tortoise, a lion with a stupid fierce face, a feather-less vulture, and a chick-like black hawk on the drawing…..
There was even a huge cross drawn next to it. The lively image represented one phrase – worse than a beast.
Oswald: “…..”
This was probably a form of Kevin’s dissatisfaction with him. After all, the punishment of copying one hundred times wasn’t something that could be done.
He glanced at Kevin and picked up that piece of parchment with a grimace. He just wanted to take a brush and mark it with “already inspected, adding punishment” when he noticed Kevin had also drawn something on another parchment under it.
That should be a human face with one large and one small eye that looked very asymmetrical, and there was a stumble of a line as the nose in the middle. Next to it were messy vertical lines; it wasn’t known whether this was a revision or an attempt to shade the nose.
A matchless ugly mouth could be faintly seen underneath the lump of shadows.
Oswald stared at the paper for a long time before distinguishing a tree and table behind that human face, which still made people unable to stare at it directly.
A tree shade? A table? A person?
These few things gathered together and made a scene flashed through Oswald’s mind. He mulled it over for a while, and his face turned black instantly.
“Tuk! Tuk! Tuk!” Oswald flexed a finger and heavily tapped the table.
“Huh?” Kevin grunted and opened his eyes with a frown. He looked at him with a weary and blank face.
“What was this thing that you drew?” Oswald flicked the piece of paper.
“Oh…..” Kevin vaguely replied as he fell back again on his arm and closed his eyes.
The backyard of the Parson’s estate.
Oswald leaned closer and heard him saying this.
It turned out that it wasn’t enough for this ancestor to reminisce the time when he could beat him; he even had to draw it out. Since he drew the backyard of the Parson’s estate, then it was apparent what this thing that didn’t look like a human or ghost was.
Oswald: “…..”
The scene in that dream flashed through Oswald’s mind again, and he remembered the first thing he said when he met this ancestor. He practically wanted to return to that time and cut off his own tongue.
Like an ass! It would be damn if he didn’t hate it.
“Get up!” Oswald heavily tapped the table again.
Kevin frowned and waved his hand, giving a vague answer. “Later, so sleepy.”
Oswald frowned, “Do you or I have the final say?”
Kevin didn’t even wave his hand this time and didn’t respond at all.
“Hey –” Oswald glared at him for a while. He still wanted to call him but noticed that Kevin had a long breath and seemed to fall asleep again. However, his frown hadn’t loosened and seemed full of weariness that didn’t match his usual self.
Oswald’s finger froze, feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
And let’s welcome the debut of Kevin’s extremely abstract drawing that only Oswald could understand! (∗´꒳`)
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