Axel
I still remember the impression I had when I arrived in Esperanza City, the impact of which dispelled the fear I felt at the idea of becoming independent at the age of eighteen.
Large buildings, as well as the influx of vehicles and people everywhere, in addition to an atmosphere different from that of Rio Grande, made the feeling of loneliness that I thought I would feel take a back seat.
Arriving at the terminal, modern compared to the one in my hometown, allowed me to understand that, from that moment on, my life would change completely, which helped me find the necessary motivation to face new challenges.
My father, whom I called when I arrived in Esperanza City, thanked God and reiterated that he would cover all my expenses in the capital. However, I told him not to worry about it, as I was planning to find a job that would allow me to pay for an apartment, utilities, and my weekly groceries.
As for public transport and other expenses related to my studies, I was fortunate that my scholarship covered those needs, as well as the payment of the annual tuition.
Similarly, Dad insisted on paying the apartment rent, so I had to accept that insistence with some discomfort, since I didn't want him to keep going to so much trouble for me.
It wasn't that I was despising him, but I didn't want him to have a source of savings that could cover unforeseen expenses.
In short, I settled in Esperanza City a month before the start of my professional training at the National Institute of Fine Arts, which allowed me to get to know strategic areas of the capital and find a part-time job in a clothing store as a warehouse worker.
To my surprise, the salary they offered me was decent, as it allowed me to cover the cost of basic services, weekly shopping at the market, afford some personal treats, and, as I had planned, put a portion of my income into a savings fund.
As for the city, every area I was able to get to know before starting my student days was wonderful and inspiring, so much so that I started drawing sketches that I intended to paint when I had the materials available.
Esperanza City was definitely the cradle of artistic culture in the country.
In fact, during my visits to museums and art exhibitions, I found more motivation to pursue my goals and ambitions, so I began to look forward to the start of classes.
Then, between my job and some last-minute errands, my first day arrived as a student of the National Institute of Fine Arts, whose headquarters was an annex of the renowned Private University of Esperanza City, the most prestigious in the country.
The university complex was located in the city center, in an area full of buildings and where the typical work demands of a metropolitan area could be seen.
When I arrived on campus that Monday morning, I couldn't help but be amazed at seeing so many students coming and going.
Groups of all kinds were milling around the campus, and the commotion impacted me so much that my heart beat with overwhelming speed.
"Wow! This is a drastic change compared to Rio Grande," I thought, as I made my way to the headquarters of the National Institute of Fine Arts.
That short journey allowed me to meet some students who welcomed me warmly, while inviting me to join their student unions or extracurricular clubs.
The energy was contagious, and although I let myself be carried away by shyness a little, I couldn't help but get excited, especially when I arrived at the university's Faculty of Arts.
The National Institute of Fine Arts, which was a branch of the Faculty of Art, was dedicated to the exclusive and intensive training of young people with a promising future within the national artistic community.
Both institutions taught all the theoretical, practical, and historical concepts of art, with the difference that at the National Institute of Fine Arts, an annual selection of fifteen scholarship recipients with qualities that the directors and professors considered exceptional and superior were trained.
That's why I recognized how lucky I was to get the scholarship, although I was also aware of my talent.
All that information, which I obtained from an information board, raised my expectations, excitement and eagerness to begin my new student stage, although I also felt fear for the challenges I would have to face, since I would be surrounded by people with a talent similar to mine, or even superior.
Anyway, after informing myself about the new environment I had to get used to, I approached a group of students gathered at the entrance of the hall that was assigned to the new selection of scholarship recipients.
I approached that group to try to find out who my classmates would be and to take a look around the room, although I was distracted by the presence of two elegantly dressed gentlemen, and middle-aged it seemed, who were chatting with two senior students.
As I waited for our entry into the hall to be authorized, and due to my inability to establish any friendship because of my shyness, I decided to take a short walk down the corridor.
I wandered around for a few seconds while admiring some works displayed on the walls and taking a quick look at the other rooms, although suddenly, a delicious aroma caught my attention.
When I turned towards the place where I assumed that scent was coming from, I got the impression that I bumped into a girl who seemed to be following me.
She, impressed by the sudden way I turned around, crashed into my chest, so she smiled and, with a hint of nervousness, apologized before asking me if I belonged to the new selection of scholarship recipients; I simply nodded.
"New scholarship recipients, please go to room twelve!" exclaimed one of those elegantly dressed gentlemen suddenly.
The girl, who was still standing in front of me, and close enough to admire her beautiful blue-gray eyes, locked eyes with me for a few seconds without saying a single word.
"I guess we should go," she said, with a hint of embarrassment.
"Yes," I murmured, as I looked away to hide the sudden heat that had spread through my cheeks.
It was peculiar and sudden, but that's how I met Ana Miranda Ferrer, a beautiful girl with whom, although I wasn't aware of it then, I fell in love at first sight.
"My name is Ana Miranda Ferrer, but I prefer to be called Miranda," she said suddenly, as we headed to the living room.
"I'm Axel Lamar, and everyone calls me Axel Lamar," I replied, with a brief imitation of Forrest Gump to hide my nervousness.
She let out a subtle laugh that made me smile, although I also felt another sudden acceleration of my heart rate.
Finally, we entered the classroom, which was actually a bare room, and whose aroma I had already noticed at the University of Rio Grande. It was a combination of wood, paint, and other art-related materials, so my nervousness faded into the background.
Miranda, who was observing everything around her, stopped beside me, as if we were friends. Then, after glancing at her sideways, she gave me a charming smile, which I returned, though I also felt nervous.
For their part, those middle-aged gentlemen, who introduced themselves as the director of the National Institute of Fine Arts, Adolfo Rodríguez, and Professor Facundo Estrada, welcomed us with a brief talk before giving the floor to the senior students.
Both of them, who were in the final stage of their studies, applying for their master's degrees, told us about their experience as scholarship recipients and how we should face the new challenges that awaited us; it was more of a motivational talk than a jovial welcome.
"Hey, Axel Lamar," Miranda murmured suddenly.
I glanced at her sideways, not knowing how to respond.
"Tell me, Ana Miranda", I replied, after a few seconds.
She frowned, as if something was bothering her that I didn't understand at first.
"I'm sorry," I murmured. "Tell me, Miranda."
Only then did she give a beautiful smile and shorten the distance between us.
"You know, until yesterday, I was afraid of this new stage as an aspiring artist, but now that I've met you, I feel calm," she revealed.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yes, I don't know what kind of spell you cast on me, but it's reassuring to be by your side", she replied.
"Hey, don't say things like that, it makes me nervous," I replied, with a hint of embarrassment.
"Nervous?" she asked, with a mocking voice.
I didn't answer his question because the motivational talk for the upperclassmen had ended, so we decided to take a walk around campus. However, another middle-aged man suddenly entered the room, so we ended up staying a little longer.
It was Jaime Córdova, the dean of the university, who, in short, said that we could roam freely around the campus and have full access to the library.
Anyway, we left the hall and headed to the campus of the Faculty of Art, which was characterized by its large grassy area and the display of some striking sculptures.
"Hey, Axel Lamar," Miranda said suddenly. "What are your aspirations as a future artist?"
That question caught me off guard, although before answering, I took the time to think of an appropriate response.
"My aspirations?" I murmured thoughtfully. "I could say I want to be the best painter in the country, although that's a childish goal... Let's see, what else?"
I paused briefly as I thought about an aspiration that I could consider realistic.
"I guess I'd love to start my own art gallery," I revealed.
"Are you serious?" she asked, with sudden astonishment.
The smile Miranda flashed at that moment captivated me, so, once again, to prevent her from noticing the impact her beauty had, I looked away.
"I want to start my own art gallery too!" she exclaimed excitedly.
"So, should I consider you my rival or a future partner?" I asked, with a mocking tone.
She looked thoughtful, as if she were seriously considering my question.
"How about we talk about it over coffee?" he suggested.
"Huh? Yes, of course, that's fine, but I can only accompany you until two in the afternoon, since I have to go to work afterwards", I replied, confused.
Miranda, who suddenly took my hand, which again accelerated my heart rate, with an emotion that made her seem like a child, guided me to a cafe that was two blocks from the university.
When we settled into that French-themed place, I couldn't help but be amazed, as it was a combination of a cafe and a bookstore.
The customers present were reading comfortably while enjoying some dessert or coffee, and the atmosphere was relaxing and charming, so we settled at a table while we waited to be served.
"I discovered this place this morning, and I almost missed the welcome because I was tempted to stay here", Miranda revealed.
"I wouldn't have judged you if you had missed the welcome... It's a wonderful place," I argued.
"I'm glad you like it... We could consider it our meeting point," she said.
"That's a good idea, considering how close it is to the university," I replied.
She nodded and glanced briefly at the menu.
"And where are you from?" she asked, as he continued looking at the menu.
"Is it that obvious I'm not from here?" I replied.
"You have a particular accent, a southern one, I dare say," she replied.
"You guessed right… I come from Rio Grande", I revealed.
"I see… I don't know much about that city, so tell me, what is Rio Grande like?", she asked, interested.
"Well, more than a city, I consider it a rural area whose main economic activity is agriculture... And the only thing I could highlight is the Santa Monica River," I replied. "What about you? Where are you from?"
"I'm from Cristal Port," she replied proudly.
"Cristal Port", I murmured, thoughtfully.
I didn't know much about Cristal Port, except that it was a coastal area that enjoyed a considerable influx of tourists during the holiday seasons.
"So, you came from Cristal Port to get a degree in Fine Arts?", I asked.
"That's right, although more than that, I want to get a master's degree in sculpture and become one of the best sculptors in the country," she replied with determination. "And you?"
It was clear that Miranda was excited, even more than I was.
"For now, I'm content with getting my degree, although if opportunities arise to improve my skills as a painter, I'll take advantage of them", I replied.
"A painter?" she asked. "Then you could do a master's degree in painting, don't you think? I think it's a suitable option for you," she argued.
"Indeed, it's a good option, but ideally, for now, I want to get my bachelor's degree and find a job to start repaying all the financial support my parents have given me… Later I'll see if I can consider doing a master's degree", I replied.
"I understand," she murmured. "In that case, I'll support you too."
"Thank you, you're very kind", I said.
Since then, after being served by a friendly waiter, we ordered half a dozen mini cinnamon rolls and a couple of cappuccinos which we enjoyed as an afternoon snack while we continued getting to know each other.
***
The next day, at seven fifteen in the morning, I met Miranda in front of the cafe that became our meeting point and meeting place.
According to the itinerary sent to us by the coordination of the National Institute of Fine Arts via email, we were to arrive at nine in the morning to take a practical test.
"Good morning, Axel... How do you feel about your first test as a scholarship recipient of the prestigious National Institute of Fine Arts?" Miranda asked when she saw me.
"Good morning," I replied. "To be honest, I'm a little nervous, but I'm confident in my drawing skills."
"The test is a charcoal portrait, so unlike me, you must have an advantage," she argued.
"Do you want me to teach you some tricks?" I asked.
"No, I appreciate your kindness, but I came here to learn more about art and overcome my weaknesses in drawing and painting", she replied with determination.
It was an admirable response, so much so that I wanted to follow her example regarding my weaknesses.
In short, we went to the university's Faculty of Art and settled in the room indicated in the email, which, to our amazement, had fifteen easels prepared with Ingres paper and the appropriate materials required for charcoal drawing.
On a desk, which we assumed belonged to the professor, there was a bust of Julius Caesar, although what caught our attention the most was that there was nobody in the room.
"I know it's early, but I thought everyone would be just as excited as we are," I thought.
"Wow! Congratulations on being the first to arrive", said Professor Estrada suddenly.
"Good morning, professor," Miranda and I replied, almost in unison.
"Good morning, young people… If you like, you can begin the test".
"Huh? Shouldn't we wait for our colleagues?" I asked.
"Not at all... Start now and finish the test within one hour," the professor replied.
As he indicated, we began our test, which consisted of making a portrait of the bust of Julius Caesar.
This took me a little over thirty minutes, while Miranda did depend on her full hour.
After handing in the portraits, we left the room in amazement to learn that our classmates hadn't arrived yet, and it wasn't that they were late, but rather that we had arrived very early.
In fact, we left the hall at eight forty in the morning, twenty minutes before the scheduled time for the test.
Because of this, since we had nothing else to do, we decided to take a walk through the other faculties of the university, which allowed us to appreciate a first-class structure in the other buildings.
We even learned how to get to the library, where we browsed some volumes related to 14th-century art.
Anyway, after leaving the library and after visiting the different faculties, a few minutes before eleven in the morning, I invited Miranda to eat at a nearby restaurant, although as we happened to pass in front of the dean's office, a heated argument between men caught our attention.
Out of sheer curiosity, we stayed nearby to continue listening to that exchange of words that impressed us, although after a few minutes, two Catholic priests came out of the office frowning and muttering disdainful threats.
"Don't think your threats scare me... One foot you set in the library, and the university's legal team will proceed with a lawsuit against the archdiocese," the dean suddenly exclaimed, leaving his office to continue the discussion.
Luckily, it was only Miranda and I who were present, although the dean also refrained from following the priests.
"What's going on, dean?" Director Rodriguez suddenly asked. "I was told you requested my presence."
"Those idiots…"
The dean paused and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, guys", he said, regaining his composure. "Please continue with your activities."
"I'm sorry, dean, but after hearing part of that discussion, I can't ignore the threats from those priests... Is there anything we can do to support you?" Miranda asked, with sudden frustration.
"Hey, Miranda, I don't think we should get involved in things that don't concern us," I said, with a hint of nervousness.
"The young man is right, miss... You shouldn't worry about this situation," said Director Rodriguez.
"How can they say that?" Miranda retorted angrily. "They were demanding that the dean burn the volumes of Gutiérrez and Esparza... That seems to me a clear lack of respect for the greatest exponents of art in our country."
"Well, you're right about that", I muttered.
"Of course I'm right!" exclaimed Miranda. "Tell me something, dean..."
Miranda paused and let out a long sigh.
"Is it possible that the archdiocese wants to prevent the rumors about Cardinal Barradas from being confirmed?" Miranda asked.
"That's right!" I thought, remembering a documentary that had shocked the country in previous months.
A documentary had been made in which a group of researchers and historians found a letter from Esperanza de la Vega, a historical figure in the country, in which she revealed a compromising truth about Cardinal Tulio Ruperto Barradas, who was being considered for beatification.
"Now that you mention it, I remember that in the documentary they claimed to have found a letter from Esperanza de la Vega, although the archdiocese dismissed such allegories and sued the producers", I said.
"Since they had no proof that it was a letter from Esperanza de la Vega, the documentary producers lost the lawsuit and had to pay a large sum of money to the archdiocese," the dean continued.
"So, just because Gutiérrez and Esparza were Esperanza de la Vega's teachers, you're demanding that the volumes they entrusted to the university's founder be burned?", asked Director Rodríguez.
"That's the excuse, but they have no solid basis for making such a demand, since the information in the volumes has been confidential for eighty years... That's what the archdiocese has achieved with its deception," the dean revealed, with noticeable frustration.
"Why isn't the prosecutor's office involved in this case?" I asked.
"That's what I'm wondering," the dean replied. "I've tried for years to lift the confidentiality of the volumes, but they always claim that I must reach an agreement with the archdiocese, which is impossible, or sue them."
"Then sue them, dean!" exclaimed Miranda, frustrated.
"Under what charge?" asked Director Rodriguez sternly.
Miranda did not answer the question, remaining silent as she appeared thoughtful.
"Why is the information in the volumes by Gutiérrez and Esparza confidential?" I asked.
"Because of the evidence of a crime that puts the archdiocese in a bad position," the dean replied.
"So, what Esperanza de la Vega said in that letter is true, right?", Miranda asked.
The dean nodded, letting out a long sigh.
"My family has been the victim of persecution ever since Gutiérrez and Esparza entrusted their volumes to my ancestor, the founder of the university. This struggle is not recent, and our biggest mistake was when my great-grandfather was deceived by a priest who tricked him into signing a confidentiality agreement that, due to the archdiocese's influence on the prosecutor's office, remains in effect to this day," the dean revealed.
It was impressive to learn that the dean's ancestors had a considerable presence in the country's history, especially because of the trust that Gutiérrez and Esparza had in him.
Gutiérrez and Esparza were the leading exponents of art in our country, so their relevance could change the course of a history that the archdiocese had modified to suit its own purposes.
Unfortunately, the matter in question was not discussed further, so Miranda and I said goodbye to the dean and the director.
We had planned to go for lunch, but suddenly Miranda changed her mind and suggested we go to the library, where, filled with curiosity, we asked the librarian to show us the location of the seven volumes by Gutiérrez and Esparza.
As aspiring artists, the little we knew about Gutiérrez and Esparza were their biographies and artistic profiles, as well as the works with which they went down in history as world references in art.
However, we were surprised to find that, in order to access the seven volumes of Gutiérrez and Esparza, it was necessary to have an authorization signed by the dean, so we returned to his office to obtain it; luckily, he granted it to us quickly.
So, we went back to the library and handed in the authorization, but unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take the books out of the building, so we had to sacrifice our plan to go out for lunch.
Anyway, once we obtained the volumes, we found a comfortable place and focused on the historical content that the church so desperately wanted to erase. Fortunately for us, they were already transcribed and preserved on the highest quality coated paper.
"So, the archdiocese wants to get rid of these relics", I said.
"It is clear that, for their interests, they are nothing more than a major obstacle," Miranda argued.
After that brief exchange, we focused on the first volume, which allowed us to travel two hundred years into the past and appreciate that, beyond reading compromising information against the church, there were unpublished works by Gutiérrez and Esparza.
But it wasn't just about sensitive historical information and unpublished works; it was also a guide to replicating the painting and sculpture techniques that made Gutiérrez and Esparza stand out, which was a treasure for us.
However, as we continued reviewing, amidst the excitement and enthusiasm, we came across a section of the volume that served as a diary for both artists.
In those words, as students from other cities, we discovered a story of Esperanza City that compromised the reputation of the archdiocese, but above all, the almost sanctified Cardinal Tulio Ruperto Barradas.
"Wow, this confirms the allegories of the documentary," I said in amazement.
"Yes, it's impressive and frustrating too... Do you think we can make copies of this?" Miranda asked.
"I don't know, let me ask the librarian," I replied.
When I returned to the librarian, he looked at me as if he had been waiting for me, which I found a little strange, although I didn't let it get to me.
"Excuse me, but how many institutes have copies of the seven volumes by Gutiérrez and Esparza?", I asked.
The librarian's satisfied smile confused me, but despite my desire to know his answer, I remained patient.
"Answering you is like telling you the ending of a good book… Although, considering that you won't have time to read all seven volumes, much less continue with the biography of our founder, I'll tell you".
The librarian paused and took a sip of his steaming coffee.
"To begin, consider that the university was founded by Hernán Jacinto Córdova in 1850, making it one of the oldest universities in the country and even on the continent. At that time, in his final days, Gutiérrez and Esparza, who were friends of our founder, gave him some documents that we now know as the seven volumes that have been preserved through the generations of the Córdova family. Therefore, only our institution possesses these historical records, fortunately transcribed fifty years ago, just before the archdiocese burned down the old library".
"Wow!" I exclaimed, impressed, which is why the librarian scolded me.
When he scolded me, I apologized immediately, but there was another doubt.
"Didn't the board of directors sue the archdiocese fifty years ago for burning down the library?", I asked.
"Without evidence, proceeding with a lawsuit was not a good option, but the archdiocese never considered that the dean at the time made the decision to transcribe those old documents before the incident".
"I see," I murmured. "Thank you very much for the information."
I said goodbye to the librarian and pretended to return with Miranda, although I stopped beforehand to ask if I could make copies of the volumes, to which he replied sternly that he could not.
Anyway, I went back to Miranda, to whom I told that part of the story, which also amazed her.
Then, we continued focusing on reading the first volume to keep learning about these artists and discover more content about a conflict between them, the Cordova family, and the church.
"Look at this technique, Axel, they show how to master it step by step," Miranda said in amazement, as she admired a portrait of Esperanza de la Vega.
"It's fascinating," I murmured in amazement.
We continued reviewing that first volume, which mostly contained unpublished works and teaching methods for mastering his techniques, as well as a continuation of the first part of the diary we had read.
In that part of the diary, Esparza spoke of the complaint that his eldest son expressed when he was making his first communion.
"This gives more meaning to Esperanza de la Vega's letter," I thought.
"Look at this, Axel… From Bishop Juan Crisanto Oyarzabal to the de la Vega family", said Miranda, reading in a low voice the preamble of a letter.
The letter was written in 1805, after the abolition of slavery and the liberation of New Granada, which was then called Esperanza City, and which belonged to the Spanish monarchy.
In those words, the bishop expressed his inability to ensure the safety of Esperanza de la Vega, who over time would become a renowned historical figure in the country and after whom the city would be named.
The letter revealed that, after the flight of the Spaniards, Cardinal Tulio Ruperto Barradas, opposed to the monarchy, took control of the archdiocese of New Granada, and in his work as a "good Samaritan", he won the affection of the people of Granada at that time.
However, behind the charitable works promoted by the cardinal, the masses and the charities, a reality related to the first communion of children was hidden.
Yes, unfortunately, during the first communions, the cardinal ordered his subordinates to bring children to his room, with Bishop Oyarzabal being the only one to refuse and being considered a sinner who did not respect God's authority.
On his last day at the church, before fleeing for fear of reprisals, the bishop warned all the children not to be alone with the cardinal, which led Esperanza de la Vega to write a letter to her parents; unfortunately, it never reached its destination.
Esperanza de la Vega, who before making her first communion was part of the art school founded by Gutiérrez and Esparza, met with other children and, thanks to the bishop's warnings, created The Clay Club.
The Clay Club went down in history as a group of children led by Esperanza de la Vega to confront pedophilia in New Granada, and was murdered, according to historical records, by the leader of another religion.
Unfortunately, according to what we read in Esparza's diary, Esperanza de la Vega was murdered by Cardinal Barradas in a chase that ended in front of her family's residence, where her parents and siblings witnessed the event.
The De la Vega family reported the incident to the authorities of New Granada, but the cardinal used his image and power to remain unpunished and even labeled them as Devil worshippers, which turned the city against them.
Since then, to avoid another misfortune, the De la Vega family made the decision to leave New Granada, although before that they confided their truth to Gutiérrez and Esparza, as well as the letter from Bishop Oyarzabal, who kept that evidence with the promise to confront the church; justice was never done.
Esperanza de la Vega, through the manipulation of information commanded by the church,went down in history as the girl who bravely fought against pedophilia, although the crime of her death was attributed to a minority group that preached another religion in New Granada.
Therefore, she was considered a heroine who represented all the organizations that fought against pedophilia and pederasty.
In fact, it was in his honor that New Granada became New Esperanza and, over time, Esperanza City.
"So, the church just wants to maintain Cardinal Barradas's false sanctity and reputation", I said.
"Especially now that he's being considered for beatification," Miranda argued. "That, in short, translates into new parishioners and, therefore, more money and power for the archdiocese."
"Ultimately, it's all about power and money," I said.
"Not content with that, they want to make the volumes by Gutiérrez and Esparza disappear", Miranda replied.
"Well, we've discovered the reason why those priests were here," I commented.
"Hey, Axel, how could we help the dean with this situation?" Miranda asked, with noticeable frustration.
"I don't know, the librarian said we can't make copies," I replied.
"This is frustrating, Axel," Miranda said, distressed.
"It's a complex matter, and there's not much we can achieve," I replied.
"But she was able to fight that pedophile, so we could too," she replied with sudden determination.
"Are you suggesting you want to confront the archdiocese?" I asked.
"Not me, the clay club will," he replied.
"Huh?" was all I could manage to say.
Seeing my confusion, Miranda explained what she had in mind, taking Esperanza de la Vega as inspiration and considering the creation of a student union that would bear the name of that group of children who fought against a system that still had power in society.