“Oh! Hello. Just Basil, if you will, and who might you be?” He asked, giving me a small, reserved smile. Obviously taken off guard by my sudden appearance.

He had an average looking face, with a stiff mustache, and a lightly dusted beard of brown hair. I could guess he was in his mid-thirties, but it was hard to tell with how weathered his skin appeared to be no doubt due to day-after-day toiling in the sun’s rays. 

“Good day, Basil. My name is Henry Dorran. I am Lady Isadora’s footman,” I said with a slight bow.

“I see. Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Henry?” Basil asked after a moment.

“I have been tasked with the restoration of the east wing pleasaunce and I’ve come to request your assistance as the estate gardener,” I said nervously, watching his facial expression grow more discontent by the second.

“No,” He said flatly, turning to leave.

 “No? Wait, Basil, why?” I said, hurrying to block his exit. What reason would he have to refuse? As the gardener, I assumed he’d be delighted to get the chance to work on an abandoned area of the estate once again.

“I poured my heart and soul into that garden. It encompassed all that Lady Ophelia believed in and worked for. Yet, you lot allowed it to rot all these years.” He spat out.

“What is it now? The poor soul’s daughter arrived half-dead, and you all want to insult her memory further?” Basil continued shaking his head at me in disgust. I defensively held my hands up to calm him. This is certainly going to be harder than I thought.

“Not at all, Basil. I assure you, I am not affiliated with the desecration of the sanctity of Lady Ophelia’s garden. My only desire is to see the young woman who sits alone in her room up there recover to her full potential.” I started, lowering my defensive hands.

“Like you, young Isadora is suffering greatly. It’s obvious Lady Ophelia touched the hearts of many.” I said, lightly pressing a hand to my own chest.

“I only offer a balm, not a bandage. My wish is to soothe the aches of so many, but never to simply hide the wound. Please believe that, Basil," I said with a gulp. Praying my attempts to soothe him into at least having a proper conversation with me would work.

Basil stared at me for a long while. So long, I began to think we would not respond to my plea.

“Follow me, Mr. Henry,” Basil replied. Though his face remained wholly sceptical, he turned toward the inner atrium of the greenhouse. I sighed in relief as I followed closely behind.

Basil may have his reservations about my intentions, but he is at least open to the idea of giving the late duchess’s memorial new life. That itself is at least a start.

I sat awkwardly at the cast-iron garden table that had been painted white, as Basil placed a cup of tea in front of me. The light smell of citrus and mint made its way into my nostrils. Oh my, what a lovely aroma. I picked up the cup and took a sip. It had a vibrant burst of citrus flavor that was immediately followed by the cooling, gentle flavor of mint. I had never tasted such tea before.

“This tea is made from Sunstone Fennel,” Basil said simply, sitting down in front of me.

“You said you have some business with the east garden?” He asked, urging me to continue our earlier conversation. Clearing my throat, I set my unfinished tea down and pulled out a small notepad from my breast pocket.

“As I said earlier, I’ve been tasked with the restoration of the east garden for Lady Isadora’s lasting recovery. I wanted to meet with you to revise the planting plan for the area. I know that there was a curated list in existence, but I’m told you were the only one who intimately worked on the pleasuance with Lady Ophelia,” I explained.

“What changed after all this time?” Basil asked, his arms folded in an almost disputatious way.

“I’m sorry, Basil, I don’t quite understand what you mean,” I answered truthfully. I didn’t have an inkling as to what issue he’d encountered in the past, as this was my first time meeting the man. He uncrossed his arms and huffed a sigh before responding.

“I was told by that harpy and her ass of a henchman, Hartley, that I was forbidden from touching not only the east lawn, but also the private garden,” He said, a grim expression taking over his face.

It was clear that the ‘harpy’ was Duchess Beatrice. I’m starting to understand things a little better now. She ordered the memorial to be destroyed and the garden to die slowly all these years. Not even allowing the gardener to set foot in the area. I can only imagine how Basil must have felt being forbidden to enter a space he’d poured his all into. I can see the guilt and defeat on his face as clear as day. I had no idea that the estate was so deeply divided.

“Basil, I assure you I held no part in such an atrocious act, but I am here today to initiate the act of moving forward. I’d like for you to assist me in sowing a new beginning and giving back life to Lady Ophelia's memory. Please look at what I have here,” I said, sliding my chair closer to him and proceeding to go over my notes.

We talked for a while. Basil explained to me all of the different types of plants that Lady Ophelia had cultivated from her homeland and their Verdantian symbolism.

“You see, this is called Silent Jade Moss, " Basil said, holding up a clump of thick, velvety dark green moss.

“We used this to improve the soil health in the garden. It’s native to Verdantia and was used in areas where grass struggled to grow,” He informed me. I nodded taking in all the knowledge Basil had given me in such a short time.

“Lastly, we should allow the Iron-Root Vine to grow along the walls of the garden,” He said pointing to vines growing along the wall of the greenhouse back wall. I had no idea how I hadn’t noticed it before. The long woody roots ran along the wall, interlocking within itself. Beautiful metallic blue leaves hung sparingly from the vines, like jewels.

“This is a very strong root, similar to that of armor plating.” He said. I gasped as he grabbed ahold of the vines and pulled himself up easily. He had not disturbed them in the slightest. I’d never known plants could be so strong. It was quite alarming. After jotting down a few more notes something caught my eye. In the corner of the greenhouse, there was a low-growing, delicate flower with sapphire-blue petals in the most peculiar droplet shape.

“What is this?” I asked, standing up and walking over to the mysterious flower. I turned to look as Basil let out a soft sigh. He held such a sorrowful expression.

“Ah, that would be–,”

DISSOLVE TO:

The Alistair countryside estate’s greenhouse. A late afternoon conversation over a cup of Sunstone Fennel tea. 3PL POV.

“–Ophelia’s Tears. This is a very special plant back in Verdantia Isle,” Duchess Ophelia explained, taking a small sip of tea from her cup.

“And what makes this plant so special?” Basil asked with fast-growing intrigue.

“Basil! It would take all the absolute fun out of it if I were to tell you that before our next lesson,” Ophelia said with a mischievous smile.

“Ah, surely it must be some amazing secret, I shan’t sleep a wink tonight, I don’t think,” Basil said childishly with a deep frown upon his youthful face. They both laughed and continued to sip the citrus and mint scented tea.

“You know Basil?” Ophelia mused.

“My Lady?” He asked.

“It’s quietly a lovely pair we make, being named after special plants and all, don’t you think?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“What’s so amazing about basil?” Basil huffed in disbelief.

“My my, you really don’t know? Basil is a staple in a great many cuisines! It also possesses various healing properties.” She said placing her cup down and standing up from her chair.

“Tsk tsk, before we meet next, silly Basil, I expect you write 100 cuisines that include Basil,”

“Lady Ophelia!” Basil protested, as she flicked his forehead lightly with her finger.

“And when you finally grasp the importance of the plant, only then, will I teach you about–,”

WIPE TO:

The Alistair countryside estate’s greenhouse. A late morning meeting over Sunstone Fennel tea. Henry’s POV.

“–Ophelia’s tears,. It’s beautiful, but doesn’t carry any noteworthy properties. You'd be interested in Mr. Henry,” Basil said with a smile as if a fond memory had come to him.

“Now that we’ve got a plan for the layout of the garden, I wanted to speak to you about the memorial stone,” I said slowly. I knew this was a sensitive topic for Basil and I wanted to approach it as delicately as possible.

“Alright,” Basil responded, after a moment of silence.

“What do you think about the current design and material of the memorial stone? I prefer for the epitaph to remain the same, but we should update the stone,” I said, expressing my desire for a revamp of materials. I waited looking at Basil contemplative face.

“..I suppose it should stay as the Alistair mainland granite, that’s what it’s always been,” Basil replied with an unreadable expression. I nodded in agreement.

“I also think the stone should remain the mainland granite, but I’d like to add an inlay of Verdantian jade over Lady Ophelia’s name. You don’t think that's too much do you?” I asked, watching Basil’s face light up.

“Of course not! That’s a wonderful idea!” Basil exclaimed, unable to hold his excitement. I smiled as we finalized the details into a usable structured document.

“Thank you for your time today, Basil,” I said, shaking his hand firmly.

“Yes, I very much look forward to getting started. I’ll gather a crew and start clearing out the garden today,” Basil said, with a newfound eagerness that had not been present before. I smiled and made my way back towards the entrance of the greenhouse.

It had taken a few hours, but Basil and I were able to successfully come up with a solid plan for the garden layout. It was now time to meet with the second person on my list, Marcus Arkwright, the master carpenter of the Alistair countryside estate. I’m told he’s a loud and demanding man in his mid to late 40s. He’s rather built for an older man, but his competence in his work speaks for itself. You’d usually find him in the estate’s workshop, surrounded by wood and tools, wearing his signature worn leather apron, with a focused expression on his face marking him as a man of skill and integrity,...

That was not, however, what I found.

“Who the hell are you, Ant?” The older man asked, towering over me with his large arms crossed.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, this must’ve been the reason I’d never come across these people before.

“Good day, Mr. Arkwright. My name is Henry Dorran. I am Lady Isadora’s footman,” I said, trying my hardest to give the man a genuine smile.

“You must need something. There’s no way they sent someone like you to work,” He said bluntly.

“Someone like me?” I asked, blinking in utter confusion.

“Yea, a weakling who can’t use his hands for a damn thing except to polish a shoe,”

Unbelievable, and I thought Mr. Murphey was bad. This man’s certainly a nasty piece of work.

“I have been tasked with the restoration of the east wing pleasaunce and I’ve come to request your assistance as the master carpenter,” I said, ignoring his previous comment.

“Oh, I see. You’re here to put on an expensive, flashy display for that trinket of a disgrace in the east wing?” He remarked harshly, with a throaty laugh.

“Mr. Arkwright, please watch your words, she is still your lady,” I warned.

“Grew a wee backbone did, ya?” Marcus said as I narrowed my eyes at him, but held my tongue. Arguing with him now would be disastrous for the restoration.

“I’ll save you a bit of time, so you can get back to polishing your shoes,” He said, taking an imposing step toward me.

“I’ll not help a runt like you, who doesn’t understand, rip apart what’s left of Lady Ophelia’s memory,” He said, concrete in his refusal.

I’m not sure why, or even how, I mustered up the courage to do so, but with my eyes narrowed and restoration layout in hand, I shoved past the massive man straight to the closest workbench. With one swift motion, I shoved all the tools and active projects onto the floor and neatly laid out my restoration plan on the workbench table top.

“I’ve never known a man to talk as much as you do. If you’re going to drone on, at least do it about what I came here for,” I said, glaring at him. I was absolutely not going to allow this bastard to try and intimidate me, especially when I agreed to do this project with pure intentions.

“I’ll give you this, Henry the footman, you’ve got balls, but they’re made of glass,” He said, shrugging.

Back handed complement aside, his attitude had completely changed. He stood staring at me, letting his arms fall to his sides casually in a less aggressive stance. I’m completely certain this man is of unsound mind, and I’d be hard-pressed to believe anyone telling me differently.

“Now, Mr. Arkwright, if you’ll please look here I have a detailed plan made with Basil Thorne, that I’d like your input on the feasibility,” I said, clearing my throat and running my hands over the outstretched papers to smooth them.