Thread: Cue Thunder

Why? Such a maddening, prevalent question. Hale was tired of hearing it. Because he could. It was human nature. Creation. Distruction. Sensless chaos and imperious order. Because we could. Why. Why had tribes, empires, chiefdoms, kingdoms risen to glorious heights and fallen resetting all their hard progress to naught... A cycle over the centuries? Why did pithy, imbecilic emotions like betrayal and lust and greed fostered by Father Time bring down even the sturdiest, oldest ideological institutions? Why did man constantly ponder the meaning of his existence while simultaneously wallowing like a pig in his own shit? Morals, ideals, fate . That dastardly human psyche. Scholars chalked away at theories of chance, or a divine plan. But the truth was far more succinct. Because we can. Thus, today Mr. Everhett Hale did insist that the dreaded Whys be kept from his ears and beaten away from his door- if necessary with a stick. These incessant relatives badgering on about his future and his uncle's past. Pah. If he wanted to hear their opinions should he stay, should he go, he'd have suffered the two-hour carriage ride to kiss their arses on his own time. No, Mr. Hale was not one to socialize, fraternize, or philander. His love was his soon-to-be late home. The pines and glens he played within as a child. They would sorely be missed. Most notably by his backside, which, by wretched fate or perhaps unavoidable chance, would have to suffer within the impending carriage ride. The man hated carriages with a vehement disgust. Horses. Shitting, Unwieldy, Giant creatures. The fear of them was imbedded in the fact that the man was relatively small himself only standing at around 5'8 with his heeled shoes, and terribly unstable on his own pampered feet much to the dismay of his manservant- Javier Bourg. JAVIER! Mr. Hale's cry echoed through the mansion, his heels clicking on the polished floors. Oh how he would miss it, surely he would grow sick and whither away on the harsh unfamiliar European roads... Oh the horrors of travel! ...And of having such a neglectful servant.. JAVIER!!! The serving man came rushing down the staircase carrying multiple bags and an armful of papers and documents. Wide brown eyes stared down at Everhett's scornful slitted blue. Good Lord man! How many times must I call your sorry name? I swear, you'll kill me before I even set foot outsi- My humblest apologies, sir. Mr. Bourg cut in, as was the norm, for if left to his own soapbox the snarky Mr. Hale could continue on to the end of the sun. I have finished gathering all of the necessary documents, packed your bags, arranged your passport, sent word ahead of your arrival... though I do believe word came only last week that there was no one left residing in the estate as the last caretaker quit long before your uncle, bless his soul, passed- Mr. Bourg coughed shortly, seeing the irritation boil on his master's face, and quickly proceeded. We have received the keys, any personal belongings of the deceased will await you at his residence, and I have arranged the necessary transpiration, which... He checked his pocket watch smartly, Should be arriving any minute. Dear Lord Javier. Mr. Hale repeated, slowly exhaling the breath he had been holding. Finding no words to adequately describe his annoyance and anxiety, the man made do with a short Ahhhaaghaaahgh! Before huffing once, and calming significantly. Yes sir? Mr. Bourg asked, not fazed in the slightest. Where... the bloody hell is my cane? Here sir. As soon as the elegant, gilded wood was in his grasp, Mr. Hale turned on his heel and strode to the giant double-doors leading to the outer world. The unknown. Adventure. Just like within those grand novels he occupied much of his leisure with. He could smell it. It smelled of horse shit. This is the last of it sir. Good. Now stop idling and get in idiot. Mr. Hale folded thin, elegant hands over his lap as his valet clambered into the carriage beside him. He sniffed in disapproval, turning his face away from the man as Bourg wiped his forehead with a kerchief. Mr. Bourg was large, and like the horses pulling them steadily away from the place of his birth, the man was sturdy as well. A neat, presentable vest and cummerbund, cravat and polished shoes all under a long weathered coat. Polished posture and mannerisms. None of these could hide the obvious shape the man was in broad shoulders and a tall stature. Almost regal poise. If it hadn't been for Hale's opulent clothing, one may have mistaken the valet to be the actual son of the Baron Hale. This was something that routinely took the wind out of Everhett's sails. He tried not to focus on it. Second son, he should say. After the passing of his father, the title had passed to Everhett's older brother the now-heir to his father's fortune. The younger himself- only twenty, received nothing. The Will had stated that the eldest allow Everhett to reside in the English residence as well, but Everhett had never got on well with his brother. The twat had tortured him horribly as a child with vegetables and little creepy dolls. He never forgave him for that. Therefore, upon learning of the estate of his estranged childless uncle had fallen in his lap, Mr. Hale had jumped at the chance to be free of his brother. Well, not jumped... He no doubt would have landed awkwardly and been unable to walk for a week. Instead he simply did what he had always done- yelled obscenely at his clever valet to prepare for his departure. Which, as he watched the last of his home disappear behind the country foliage, he realized was now. Now... Oh dear... Dear God Javier. I don't think I can do this. Mr. Bourg calmly looked over at his employer, respectably keeping his face unreadable. They'd only just traveled around the bend from the his late father's residence, Try to rest, Sir. We will arrive at the coast in no time at all. His deeper voice was comforting, but still Mr. Hale sneered at the older man, mumbling to himself as he shrunk into his coat. Bourg was only five years his senior but had been raised in the Hale household, his mother being one of the serving maids. Baron Hale had taken quite a liking to the young serving boy, having him sit in on lessons alongside the Hale children. He was practically Mr. Hale's brother. But the man would never admit that. Having such relations with a servant? Hah! He was no commoner. Mr. Hale finally nodded off to the clopping of the horses hooves, despite the bumping road. They would travel out of region and to the coast, where a boat would take them to Spain. Mr. Hale would add seasickness to his growing list of traveling afflictions, and a final stretch of impromptu Rail cart rides and more horses would take them through Spain along the Spanish Road and into Switzerland up into the Alps where his uncle's estate waited. At the end of their long travel, another carriage would await to take them up from the small, isolated Swiss town, to Uncle Hale's estate. Only then would Mr. Hale feel relief, and in a moment of unprecedented content, look upon the dreary scenery with a pleasant smile. Here he would have his solitude. The ability to hide away from the world... And everything rotten about society that plagued his mind.