Standard/Publisher Word Count: 1358/2075
Reading Time: 4min 56sec
Espíndola and his sister had had uncommon childhoods, as far as the upperclassman were concerned, and there were many who still referred to him as “cidadão” —or, even, “pessoa vulgar”— despite being formally raised up. Either way, most of them could not deny how the nation owed ‘Ferro Lobo’ much…
Despite his past, or even to spite his past, the little street urchin had grown into a deeply religious man absorbed entirely in upholding the laws of God and throwing humanity into his crucible so as to forge peace; whether they liked it or not, they —the world— would be moulded to his ideals.
From the ‘tender’ age of fourteen (while still technically a felon under charge), he began working at the most populous and outsourced prison in the country, Prisão de Ferro de Deus, which was located on the coastal fringes of the country’s capital, Spezza Corvo. Beginning as a scrub boy, he worked his way up through the grime and into the Mestre Guadador ’s staff as Administrador Guarda while also attending O Princess' Real Academia de Infantaria, making small improvements to the prison as often as allowed. From there, he initiated a program of reform that brought the prison to civility and put the prisoners to work. He also spent much of those years closely with the Church to better organize charities and public works.
On the day of his seventeenth birthday, his enrollment at the academy transferred over to the infantry proper. After his class-evaluation, given his history with Prisão de Ferro and his category grade in the academy, he was ranked in as a Segundo-sargento. By the end of the year, he was a Sergento-mor and working very closely with (and even, at times… influencing) his Lieutenant.
At only eighteen, he had Her Majesty’s approval and funding to restructure all fourteen prisons in Porto Gaulae. He was formally commissioned as a Captain and there was something of a scandal surrounding the appointment. At twenty, he was permitted to begin revamping the legal system.
Despite all his good deeds —or, perhaps, maybe even because of them— and the dissonance of his origin, scandal always seemed to attach itself to him quite easily. ‘But, at least, he served his nation and God well’, they would shrug.
The sister, on the other part, was a handful like no other.
She was prone to bouts of anger and passionate shouting; she had a temper and a sense of vengeance that often was uncalled for and she swore often. The twins’ guardians, Mm. and Mmd. Sousa-Nogueira had sent her brother to the academy and her to Escola de terminar o Royal Princess' para a vinda de senhoras, a charm school. After almost two semesters of struggling with the girl, she had been sent home for her ‘unruly behavior and untamable nature’.
With the minimum annoyance possible, Mm. Sousa-Nogueira had drawn a sheet of paper from his desk and written a letter—one that had her begin the next school-year attending Escola de Charme da Madame Malkin para Não estruturado senhoras e meninas, a sort of… charm school taught… shall we say… militantly. She stayed with them the whole year, only returning on scheduled holidays, and Mmd. Sousa-Nogueira felt she could breathe a sigh of relief; the girl was coming around and would be ready to marry within three years.
Halfway through the next semester, the girl had been sent home again for the very same reasons as before. When Mm. Sousa-Nogueira read the letter, he hung his head in exhaustion, resolved to force some structure into her at their home, then.
She didn’t go home, though; she ‘stumbled’ into her brother’s academy barrack in the dead of night and explained to him all her troubles at those schools, crying against him for the first time in years. He held her tightly and listened silently. They were killing her, she said, to be so un-free and trapped; she hated it all and even desired the streets where, at least, she could do as she pleased.
He kept her there with him in secret, somehow, for a few days before convincing her to go home; that had been his first scandal. He was putting her on a horse and about to send her out the gate when the pair captured and detained.
She refused to say a word to them, simply glaring. One of the officers put a hand on her chin and she bit him. He hit her for that. Twice. Her brother, on the other hand, had explained everything to the Overseer and the girl was sent home; the boy was caned, struck fifty times.
When the winter holiday began and her brother returned home, he made her an offer: when I’m at the academy, you’ll be in a convent. There you’ll learn valuable skills that include medical attentions and, when I transfer to the infantry, anywhere they send me, you’ll come. Can you agree to this?”
“And what about marriage?”
“Mother wants you to marry a respectable man and start a proper family. Father wants you to not be a stain on his name and mother’s peace of mind. Personally, I don’t care who you marry or when so long as you can convince me that you love each other and that that he will be good to you. However, while I can and will support you, I will not support any man of yours, is that understood?”
The sun was at half-height and bore heavily through the back of his coat. He pushed open the latch-gate at the front of the church and crossed the grounds. Rather than enter through the front, he circled the building around towards the north side and entered through the kitchens.
“Sir?” one of the nuns in the room asked, alarmed, and he stopped.
“Sister, I am here to speak with Yaritza Espíndola. If you will lead me to the main hall, I will wait there for her.”
The girl did not move, standing still as she was, but after a few moments, one of the others stood and bowed her head, saying, “If you will to follow me, Officer?”
“Obliged,” he replied, taking her lead down the halls.
Once in the hall, the girl turned to him with another dip and said, “If you will wait here, I will return with our sister shortly.”
“Thank you,” he called out to her as the girl trounced up the steps with a certain lack of grace. No doubt she was also fetching the Matron. He left out a huff and did his best to not idle languidly nor restlessly as he waited.
“Yatti! Yatti!” the girl, Rosé, shouted as she threw open Yaritza’s door. “There’s a man downstairs for you!”
“A man? What do you mean a man?” she demanded, setting down her embroidery before could stab herself —or the other girl, even— with the needle.
“I don’t know! But —gee— he’s handsome! And an officer, too…”
“A handsome offi—” she cut herself off and jumped right up, beaming wide. She stashed away her needlework before rushing out of the room and down the hall. At the head of the stairs, she came to halt, a hand gripping the rail tightly.
There he stood down below, back to her but still unmistakably him: her brother; her twin; her other half; her life. His hair was still that inky black it had no right to be, the uniform’s coat was Her Majesty’s bright blue, piped with white, and the boots were crimson red. “Rui!” she shouted and ran down the steps, skipping many as she went.
He met her at the bottom of the staircase and caught her in his arms when she jumped. Holding her close to him, he spun her around stupidly several times, loving every bit of how she giggled. When he let her feet touch ground, they simply held one another and swayed for a few moments.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
He murmured, “Same. Always.” I scheduled to be there by the 22nd, noon. I’ll send you a letter as soon as I’m checked in. you’d better, she threatened.
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