May 10th, 2027
Brenda's gaze lingered on the yellow sundress hanging in her closet, a stark contrast to her recent past. The dress, a reminder of carefree times, seemed like a relic from another life—impractical and defenseless against any form of assault. Yet, choosing to wear it now felt like a tentative step toward reclaiming a semblance of the civilization she once knew.
Only a week prior, someone had taken her measurements, crafting the dress with care. But the absence of daily survival challenges—no mountains to scale, dangers to evade, or endless trails to conquer—had quickly begun to show. Her once lean, muscular frame was softening, making the dress hang loosely on her body, a testament to the rapid changes her life was undergoing.
In front of the freestanding, full-length mirror—an object that seemed as out of place as she felt—Brenda hardly recognized the reflection staring back at her. She looked like a stranger, a girl playing dress-up in a world that no longer existed. The Berg's expression was inscrutable, leaving Brenda to wonder if she saw a figure of hope or a subject of amusement. Their silence was heavy, filling Brenda with a sense of being an impostor in her own skin, vulnerable in too many ways.
Pike, following Otto's orders, led them from the safety of the room, through a central door that spilled into the courtyard. This space, once a testament to the Manor's grandeur, had been pragmatically transformed into farmland. Yet, amidst this adaptation, remnants of the past lingered in the meticulously preserved hedges that lined pathways, guiding them to the heart of the Manor.
Their journey took them through the central East entrance, up the grand staircase to the second floor. Brenda's intuition spiked as they veered left, confirming her hopes.
Otto awaited at the doorway to her old room, his demeanor reminiscent of a loyal hound seeking approval. With a respectful bow, he opened the door, stepping aside to reveal the room preserved as a capsule of her past. It was almost exactly as she remembered it, a bridge between the person she had become and the girl she once was.
"Why was I in Bartold's room if my own was untouched?" she asked.
Otto, ignoring asking who Bartold was, replied, "When you first arrived—no offense—you were rather - wild. I didn't want to risk any damage to this room in case you became overwhelmed. So, I allowed you a few days to settle in. Meanwhile, I ensured everything here was thoroughly cleaned."
"It's perfect, Otto," she gushed, pausing to express her gratitude before stepping into the room to fully absorb its familiarity. Meanwhile, Berg entered behind her, scanning the room for any hidden threats.
"Fetch Wilhelm," she instructed, remembering to communicate her request to Pike, who had already assumed his new position outside her door, via Veronika.
She glanced around, her gaze half lost in memories, searching for any changes. Brenda's bedroom, a spacious haven nestled within the grandeur of the Manor's main house, stood as a tribute to the elegance of a past era, seamlessly blending with the practical needs of the modern world. The room, boasting a two-story ceiling, was enveloped in a gentle light that filtered through the windows, casting elongated, leisurely shadows over the polished surface of the king-sized bed at its heart. This bed, with its substantial dark wood frame, stood as the room's steadfast anchor, radiating both solace and dominance. Its massive mahogany headboard, adorned with rows of shelves, was thoughtfully designed to house essentials and a collection of books, perfectly centered against the wall.
Beyond a generous expanse of carpeted floor, the opposing wall stood as a testament to functional elegance. It featured three doors, each telling a story of the room's multifaceted utility. This arrangement hinted at the thoughtful design behind the room, marrying the need for practicality with an understated luxury.
"Otto, dear," Brenda called out gently. As he entered the room, she didn't hesitate, "Could you see to having this desk and computer stored with care? Also, we need to accommodate a bed suitable for Veronika in here. It just wouldn't be proper for her to be cramped in the servant's closet." Directly addressing Otto in such a manner deviated slightly from the norm, bypassing the formal channels. However, Brenda deemed it crucial for Otto to grasp that Veronika, the Berg, would be sharing her space. Should Otto harbor any reservations, she preferred them voiced sooner rather than later.
Brenda redirected her focus to the intricacies of her room. To her right, a door led to the wing's bustling main hallway, a silent witness to the Manor's daily rhythms. On the left, two prominent windows offered a picturesque view of the courtyard, framed by thick velvet curtains that ensured privacy. Nestled between these windows, a radiator stood ready to combat the chill of changing seasons. And peculiarly, above the headboard, an oscillating fan with a pull chain dangled—an anachronistic fixture that, despite its oddity, was a welcomed comfort in the sweltering summer months.
The room was adorned with artifacts and touches that spoke of Brenda's journey and her connection to the Manor's history. The walls were adorned with tapestries that whispered tales of old, their threads woven with stories of triumph and tragedy. Shelves housed an eclectic collection of books, their spines a colorful mosaic of Brenda's varied interests and the knowledge she sought to acquire. A sturdy desk, scarred by time and use, held stacks of papers and plans, the tangible evidence of Brenda's tireless work to rebuild and reimagine their future.
Amidst these personal touches, the room also bore the practical adaptations necessary for survival in their new reality. LED lanterns, charged by the day's solar harvest, provided light during the nights when electricity was a luxury. A corner of the room was dedicated to a small armory, where weapons and tools were neatly arranged, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked beyond the Manor's walls.
In every aspect, Brenda's bedroom was a reflection of her—complex, layered, and brimming with the tension between the past's opulence and the present's pragmatism. It was a sanctuary not just for rest but for planning, a space where the weight of leadership could be momentarily set aside in the pursuit of personal solace or the company of trusted allies.
"Wilhelm, good you're here." Brenda nodded with a warm smile. "Berg, have a chair fetched for him. Otto, I'm sure you have business to attend to. You did really well. I finally feel at home."
As Otto closed the door behind him, a palpable tension momentarily filled the room; everyone silently gauged Brenda's mood. Then Wilhelm, clearing his throat, proceeded cautiously, "You wished to see me, milady?"
"How can I put this appropriately? Are you off the bucking Bronco?" Brenda asked, her gaze steady.
Wilhelm blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he replied, "I'm not sure I follow you, milady—I'm fine with you speaking frankly."
"Are you still able and interested in sex?" She inquired, her bluntness cutting through the air.
Wilhelm, maintaining his composure without a hint of shock or misunderstanding, responded evenly, "If I'm following your reason for asking, the answer is moot. I'm sly, Madam."
"Sly?" Brenda's eyebrow arched inquisitively.
"You have the wrong goods, milady," Wilhelm said, his gaze direct and unflinching, as devoid of emotion as if discussing something mundane.
"That must have been tough, coming of age in the '80s," Brenda's voice softened, turning kind.
"You flatter me, ma'am. I came of age in the '60s. Which was worse, although AIDS turned culture vicious for a time in the '80s," Wilhelm remarked, a trace of melancholy briefly clouding his eyes.
"Pardon my interest, but don't you have three children?"
"Most of us lived double lives back then. Just as you never knew, neither did your parents or their parents. My wife eventually suspected. But I was always very careful. By the new century, I was finally free to be myself, but by then, the costume had become custom," he explained, his voice carrying a weight of resigned acceptance.
"Are you happy with whatever it is Otto has you doing, or would you prefer to be my organizer? You'd live here," Brenda gestured towards the tiny Dienerschrank, her eyes searching Wilhelm's for any hint of his true feelings.
Wilhelm shifted uncomfortably, the concept of choice visibly unsettling to him. "It feels odd to even ask questions. I'm not accustomed to having options. But," he paused, a look of contemplation crossing his face, "I am an old man with my own set of limitations, and 'organizer' isn’t a role I'm familiar with in terms of duties. Could you clarify what it entails?"
"Veronika is my fist, liaison, and confidant," Brenda said, observing as the Berg blushed. She still found amusement in this reaction. "You, Wilhelm, will act as my memory, conscience, and spy. While I dedicate myself to my scientific pursuits, you two will monitor any threats or issues arising from within the community."
"If my role is to act as your spy, wouldn't it be more logical for me to reside in the wings?" Wilhelm inquired, his tone practical.
"Yes, but I prefer to keep my advisors close. Besides, my greater concern lies with threats emanating from within the Manor itself," Brenda explained, her gaze steady.
"You're referring to the wee one," Wilhelm stated, his use of 'wee' bringing a slight smile to Brenda's face, given his own stature.
"So far, it's merely an intuition—unsubstantiated, and it's more about how I'd likely react in Sophice's shoes, given my own darker tendencies," she admitted, her tone balancing between humor and seriousness.
"We joked about it earlier, but my serving as your food taster might actually be a wise precaution," the Berg suggested thoughtfully.
"I've always found that custom puzzling. Any poison would likely act too slowly for the taster to be effective. But since you'll need triple portions anyway, you might as well share some of mine," Brenda quipped, eliciting a smile from Veronika.
Wilhelm turned to Veronika, a smile playing on his lips, "Notice how she transforms your heroic offer into an act of her own generosity?" He then faced Brenda again, seeking clarification, "As your counsel, am I permitted to make such observations?"
"I believe you grasp the essence perfectly," Brenda responded with a nod.
"Then, I accept the position," Wilhelm declared.
As though his acceptance had been the signal, Pike appeared with a chair. Wilhelm settled into it with a sense of finality, his relief evident. The brief stand had taken more out of him than he had shown.
"You will be witness to female talk, undress, and unseemly displays most men are not privy to. Think on that for a moment in case you want to reconsider," Brenda cautioned, her tone laced with a mix of challenge and sincerity.
"I always wanted to be the gay best friend," Wilhelm responded, the smile reaching his eyes, revealing the truth in his light-hearted remark.
"I've always despised the rigidity of pomp and protocol. I understand its necessity in public—for maintaining a clear hierarchy and ensuring orders are followed without hesitation. But here, in private, within these walls, I encourage you to speak freely. Don't hold back. I'm not easily offended, and if I ever am, consider it my issue to deal with. Your honest opinions, disagreements, and joys are crucial to our collaboration. And, if you could, let's do away with the 'milady' formalities—it would be a relief. Also, feel encouraged to match my banter. I can take as much as I give; my skin's thick enough."
"That’s easier said than done, considering you have the power to dismiss us at any moment. You may wish for us to be equals, but the reality is, we're your employees," Wilhelm pointed out, his gaze averted, underscoring the discomfort in his admission.
"The world outside has transformed. Yes, your compensation includes food and shelter, but we've grown into something more akin to a community now. And while it might be risky to plant this idea, for my objectives, both of you are indispensable. Family looks out for each other, and apart from Otto, I don't really have anyone left. So, unless it makes you uneasy, I’m not in search of mere employees," Brenda responded, her tone earnest, inviting them to see beyond the conventional employer-employee dynamic.
Veronika approached Brenda tentatively, then enveloped her in a massive hug before stepping back, her uncertainty evident in her movement.
"I'd hug you too, missy, but that would require rising from this chair," Wilhelm joked, his tone light.
Brenda, touched by the gestures, smiled warmly. "I think you two are going to fit in perfectly. Today, we focus on organization. Wilhelm, I need you to capture my thoughts as I outline our future direction."
Wilhelm tapped his temple with a finger, his expression playful yet focused. "Steel trap, mil—miss, it's all I need. Begin at your leisure."