The Reluctant Journey Ch. 03

Finn was looking at her, waiting for a response.

"I'm fine" She squared her shoulders and was imbued with the strength she had often envied in her mother. "Are we going to see the gardens?" Her tone dared him to challenge her. He didn't. He nodded simply and motioned for her to walk alongside him. They walked out the large archway of the library and down a long hallway to a set of white French doors. He opened the door and motioned her through. She walked out onto a large veranda with tables and chaises set up for entertainment. She couldn't imagine the general having any friends to entertain. He probably ordered his subordinates to sit on his porch and talk to him when he felt lonely. However, she couldn't ever imagine him being lonely, much too human an emotion. But he was human. She saw a glimpse of that, whether he'd wanted her to or not. He was very human when it came to his younger brother. There was a true bond there that even a stranger like herself could see. She then imagined Tristan and the general sitting on the veranda laughing over a beer. She could see that, and it was disturbing. She knew how to deal with a villain, and vowed to keep the general firmly in that category until further judgment could be made.

She walked with Finn down a stone path, there were huge electric blue hydrangeas surrounding the veranda. Even more flowers could be seen further away. Butterflies drifted from bloom to bloom and there was vibrant color everywhere. It was absolutely the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She could see that they were in a courtyard, albeit a very large one. The mansion surrounded the huge beautiful area. There were various fountains she noticed and a small creek with a charming bridge. She could also see a very large hedge near the middle of the courtyard. Finn showed her the koi pond and the rose garden as well as several impressive fountains.

"What is that hedge in the middle?" She asked.

He looked over to where she was looking and answered. "Ah that is the topiary maze. It's creepy." He laughed cynically. She giggled at his clear discomfort and use of the uncharacteristic word. She began to walk closer. He followed, less than enthusiastic. As she got closer she could appreciate the enormity of the hedges, they had to be at least twelve feet tall. The entrance to the maze had a black wrought iron gate. She looked to Finn, her eyebrow raised in question.

"If you must." He answered unenthusiastically. She smiled and walked through the gate. It was considerably darker inside the maze, though still easily navigable. The path was about four feet in width. Finn came up to walk to Malia's right. She took the first right that they came to.

"Tell me about this. It doesn't seem like something the general would have." She asked genuinely curious.

He smirked. "It's not. This maze has been on the estate for over a hundred years. Cain's great-great-grandfather, James Milan, for whom the manor is named, planned the entire thing and had it built. They used to entertain a lot. This place scared me to death when I was a kid." He looked up at the hedges with disgust.

"You used to come here as a child?" she was interested in the origins of the general's friendship with this reserved man.

"My parents were close friends with the Malcolm's. We would be over here almost nightly." They came to a dead end and turned around. "As I have no siblings, I loved it. Cain was four years older than me, but it didn't matter. " His face held complete admiration, as if the general were his older brother as well.

"I grew up in a large manor, but it was nothing compared to this. Coming here was like going to a toy store. Cain and Tristan had everything any kid could ever have wanted. But they didn't have any kids to play with, and Cain and Tristan don't really share the same interests. They may only be a year apart, but they're very different. "

"Yeah, I've noticed." She replied.

He scowled slightly at that. "I became best friends with Cain. Tristan would occasionally hang out with us, but he really wasn't as interested in the daredevil games we would play. But we would all come here. " He snarled. "That was thing we would all do together. We would run through the maze as fast as we could at night. They knew it a lot better than me. I would always lose." He said it simply but she could sense his increasing discomfort as they went deeper into the maze. They came to an open area where a giant, leafy, flying pig sat.

"There are topiaries throughout, " he stated simply, "We're going the right way." Another fork came and he let her choose to go left, though he more than likely knew the way through the maze. They walked for a while, turning this way or that. Eventually they came to another clearing.

"This is all very elaborate." She was in awe when she came to a very large topiary snake, coiled and ready to strike.

"Yes. We're going the wrong way. This particular path is one that is very time-consuming in retracing. It only took me several times to realize that I should turn back when I saw the stupid snake." They walked in silence for the remainder of the maze. They came to a final open area with a pride of topiary lions.

"We made it." Finn simply stated, though she perceived some relief in seeing the matching wrought iron gate of the exit. She'd been contemplating her unanswered questions throughout the walk. She would have asked Finn if she hadn't thought it completely futile. The exit of the maze looked much like the entrance, there was a matching veranda directly across with whimsical flowers surrounding the yard.

Finn walked to the porch, with Malia slightly behind him. They entered a giant room. The ceilings were at least twenty feet above. There were tall windows throughout. It looked like a ballroom turned storage area. There were multiple pieces of furniture covered in white drop cloth and piled against the far wall. Malia walked over to the left wall where a large fireplace predominated. Finn let her look around for a few minutes before he spoke.

"Follow me. I'm to introduce you to some of the staff."

They walked through a series of hallways before they came to an enormous kitchen. There were women and men working throughout the very large kitchen. Malia counted ten. Everyone worked fluidly from obvious practice and experience.

When Finn was noticed, an older woman smiled and walked over. "Why if it isn't Mr. Brantley himself. What brings your gorgeous self to this side of the manor?"

Finn gave one of his rare smiles to the woman. "I'm here to introduce you to Miss Olivia Yates." He motioned to Malia and she gave the woman a soft smile. "Olivia, this is Mrs. Emma Smith, she runs the kitchen."

"Pleasure to meet you Olivia," Mrs. Smith pulled her into a hug.

"Likewise" Malia replied surprised at the woman's unexpected affection.

"If you're ever hungry, my girl, just stop by and I can fix you up something." She said cheerfully.

"If I can ever find this place on my own again." Malia laughed. Mrs. Smith laughed as well. She told Malia everyone's name and they politely smiled at her, though she nearly instantaneously forgot them. Mrs. Smith insisted Finn and Malia sit for a quick lunch. They had a delicious hot soup and sandwiches in a small nook of the kitchen. The staff continued to work.

"Am I to help here?" Malia asked Mrs. Smith between bites. "I'm not very good at cooking but I can take direction."

Finn answered before Mrs. Smith could say anything. "No, Olivia. You aren't to be a servant of the manor. It is just valuable for you to know where the kitchen is. Mrs. Smith will get you whatever you need from here." He spoke tactfully.

"So I'm to lounge about during the days and provide my services at night?" she laughed cynically.

"It isn't like that." Finn said slowly. Mrs. Smith smiled gently and went to work amongst the others. "You are simply a companion. Tristan has isolated himself, especially recently. Cain is trying to help his brother. His methods may be less than rational, but he does want to help Tristan. I can assure you that Tristan deserves happiness, that's all Cain wants." Finn looked pained.

"Tristan doesn't seem to want my companionship in the way the general requires." She said bluntly.

"Right now. All that is required of you is friendship. Anything else will have to be taken up with Cain. We are to meet up with him after lunch." Finn told her, ending the conversation.

The rest of lunch went on without incident. The pair thanked Mrs. Smith and left. They went back to the part of the manor housing the library, but Finn knocked on a door in the hallway before they got there.

"Come in." She heard the general's voice from the other side. Finn tried to give a reassuring smile as he opened the door.

Finn and Malia walked into the room. There was a desk in the middle of the room. There was also a large television and black leather couch on the right side of the room. The general sat on the couch and turned the TV off when they entered.

"Thank you Finn." The general said dismissively. Malia looked at Finn, begging him with her eyes to stay. He smiled apologetically and squeezed her hand reassuringly before he left the room and closed the door.

The general looked entertained. "Making friends?" he mocked. She didn't answer, choosing to scowl at him instead. "Aw, and here I was trying to be hospitable." He laughed when she continued to not respond. He stood up from the couch. Being so close to him was intimidating. Malia couldn't believe she'd tried to hit him. She wanted to take a step back, but was done showing weakness. He wasn't looking to play; he just walked around the desk and sat in the large leather chair. "Sit." He ordered. She slowly walked to one of the two chairs opposite the desk and sat. He stared at her, feature by feature, which was disconcerting. She didn't have a choice but to do the same, because she wasn't going to be the one to break eye contact.

He was so beautiful. The sun was shining through a window behind him, hitting his hair so she could see the series of dark, rich browns that ran through it. Slight stubble dusted his face from his defined jaw to his sculpted cheekbones. His nose was perfectly straight; his eyes almond shaped and rich brown with lashes that bordered on feminine. She wondered how she was living up to his inspection. At the thought she inwardly grimaced.

"I imagine you have some questions." He broke the silence. "I want to completely clarify your place in this manor before I get to any of them." She gave him a childish look of irritation. He ignored her. "Your new goal in life is to make Tristan happy. You are to become his friend, his servant, his lover. Whatever will make him happy. If at any time I believe you have failed in this duty, you will have me to answer to. You will report whenever I ask you, and an evaluation of your progress will be made regularly." He sat back in his chair and stared at her.

Malia interpreted it as an invitation to ask her questions. She didn't know where to start.

"Are you insane?" Malia said impulsively. He simply continued to look at her, his expression unchanging.

"I plan on answering a limited number of questions, little girl, I wouldn't waste them on pointless rhetoric."

"Where are we?" She started, still intrigued at Tristan's reaction to her unit.

He looked at her strangely. "Milan Manor, this is my office." He said obviously though she knew he'd known her meaning.

"What unit is this? Why was Tristan angry when he heard about my unit?" She demanded. He looked at her contemplatively.

"We aren't in a unit. I would have thought you would have came to that conclusion, as we are not exactly 'roughing it'."

"What? How can we not be in a unit? I've heard of better units, richer ones, more powerful-"

"We are not in a unit." He reiterated very slowly as if she were a small ignorant child.

"We have to be." She sounded distraught, even to her own ears. "The war. The country was split into units." She looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of what had to be lies. She couldn't find anything, but he had to be lying.

"How much do you know about the war?" he asked her.

"I was a kid, not much." She had to remember that she was supposed to be her sister who was two years younger. Any memories or knowledge that she would have from her childhood would be even more vague.

He nodded. "The war did tear the country apart. Units began to develop in defense from an unstable country. The situation declined further and your family moved to Unit 118." She nodded, she knew that much. She'd remembered kids from school leaving; more and more had just disappeared, until it was her family. "Things were openly hostile for a little over three years after you joined your unit. However, negotiations were eventually made, and a new order was established." He spoke very matter-of-factly but it was like hearing a book being read to her. No one in the unit had ever spoken about a new order. "A new country was formed out of the ashes of the destroyed one. The imagery stuck with the public and the country of Phoenix was established. People had a lot of pent up anger; there were many lives lost and they were bitter. The general public was especially unforgiving of the units that still existed." He looked like he was trying especially hard to be delicate with her feelings, which was so out of character from what Malia had witnessed. "During the especially violent years many people tried to seek shelter in the units, but were denied access; no one in, no one out. During the reestablishment these memories came back when the subject of the units came up. As you are aware, they had become essentially small countries of their own, completely self-reliant. But they were very isolated and ignorant from their isolation. Initially the leaders of the new order wanted to inform the units of the new organization and completely absorb their population. However, there was heavy dispute over the matter, bringing a violent-prone society close to its aggressive nature. It was eventually decided that the units would be left to their own resources to some extent, while providing any resources to Phoenix that were needed."

"What? What kind of resources? We have nothing." She was shocked by everything she was hearing. Her home had been a happy place. It fell on hard times occasionally, but no place was perfect and she had her family. The picture he was painting was that of a glorified concentration camp, running on slave labor.

"The units provide us with a variety of products, whatever they can. Your unit, Unit 118, provided crops, as well as some hand crafted products." Malia thought of her mother's sewing group. They mostly repaired clothing for the unit, but sometimes they would make personal items. They were always either confiscated or sold; the three-item-rule was, after all, still in effect. Malia wondered if one of the beautiful quilts her mother had worked so hard on had gone to General Malcolm. The thought sent a fresh tear down her face. Probably not, everything in this house was much too luxurious for the simple beauty of one of her creations.

"Why" she looked at him accusingly.

He looked into her eyes. "The new government couldn't afford a possible uprising. They had to appease the public." He shrugged. "Even the government officials were angry with the units. They were seen as cowards, abandoning their country in its time of need."

"They are not cowards!" Malia screamed and jumped up from her chair. He didn't even look surprised. "You sit here in your mansion and call those people, my people, cowards. They break their backs and nearly starve to keep their families safe, and you take what little they have! They -- We are not cowards!" The general looked at her as if she were a very interesting specimen under a microscope.

"Sit down." He said calmly.

She started to pace back and forth; this was too much to take in. She felt like she was about to faint. She brought her hands up to hold her head. Malia felt like she was about hyperventilate. She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. "Sit down." Cain said gently. He made her feel so small and fragile, a feeling she wasn't used to. She sat in the chair again. He sat on the corner of the desk and watched her. So much for being strong.

"Can you just take me back?" She looked pleadingly at him. "Look, Tristan doesn't want me. Can I just go home, please?"

"There is no going back." He showed no mercy in his expression. "The unit's rules are strictly enforced. You aren't permitted back, ever. Even if I wanted to send you back, which I don't, I don't have the authority. I had to call in some favors to get you out."

She shook her head. "You can get me back there. You're a general; you can call in more favors. Please, I won't tell anyone. I'll do whatever you want. I just want to go back to my family." She begged him.

"No." He said sternly.

Tears streamed down her face in torrents. She was never going to see her family again. They would all live through their lives as ignorant slaves, wondering what had happened to her. No! She would not let that happen. Malia vowed then that she would liberate her family, or die trying. Until every avenue of possibility was extinguished, she would fight for them, because they were the only aspect of her life that mattered.

If the general noticed a change in her mentality, he didn't show it. She needed a plan, and time. She would appease the general for now, but she wasn't rolling over just yet.

"You have experience in a hospital." The general stated.

"Yes." She answered with a hint of nervousness and uncertainty in her voice. Malia could barely stand to be in a hospital, but he obviously knew that wasn't the case with Olivia.

"Good." He said soberly. "You will find out eventually, so I will tell you now. My brother lost his legs seven years ago. He is also very prone to skin rashes and infections that occasionally require light medical assistance. Your medical affiliations were a great determining factor in bringing you here."

Malia was shocked. He spoke so matter-of-factly that she wasn't sure what to respond to first. She started with the last statement, because it was the most easily taken in.

"I thought you said I was a completely random selection?" She accused, still in a state of shock. "For the most part." He responded, still completely unemotional. "I want you to clean up and dress for dinner. You will be dining with Tristan and I tonight. I expect you to look your best. One of the servants, Gwen, will help you find everything you need." He said dismissively.

"Wait. You can't tell me something like that and then change the subject! What happened?" She remembered Tristan stumbling slightly when he was upset, but other than that he showed no signs of physical disability. He hid it well. "How did he loose his legs?" she asked, almost whispering.

"Now is not the time, you are to be getting to know Tristan, making him happy. Not digging up old ghosts." He said.

"What is the harm in telling me, then I don't have to ask him?" She asked, irritated.

"You will not ask him anything on the subject. Now. Go. Get. Dressed. For. Dinner." he articulated angrily. He pushed a button on something and a woman entered the room. She was pretty and about Malia's own age. She had strawberry blond hair and clear blue eyes with porcelain clear skin.

"Gwen, assist Olivia in her preparation for dinner." He ordered brusquely.

"Yes sir." The woman replied in a soft voice. Malia glared at the general as she followed Gwen out of the office. He wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her though, and her efforts were wasted.

Once she was out of the office she focused on Gwen, who was quickly leading her though the hallways. Actually it was more like Gwen was strutting through the hallways as fast as she could without actually running, and taking for granted that Malia would follow her. Which was true, Malia ran after the semi-hostile woman like a puppy. She was curious at the woman's attitude. Why the immediate open dislike? Eventually they stalked all the way to Malia's assigned bedroom. There was a dress draped over the grandiose bed. She walked over to it, ignoring Gwen completely. She ran her hand along the slinky black material.