Canon: Remove if not applicable.Sometimes, the training in Ellvaldez was harrowing.
Sometimes Astolphe even got knocked out, and sometimes he got hit so hard that he was badly shaken up.
Once he finally got his bearings this time he was already back at the manor, and it was already past the evening meal. He went to find the maid, and ended up in the corridor with the portrait of the unfortunate looking man again. He knew how to find his way back this time, but honestly, Astolphe still wondered about what Gralat told him the first day. The words that implied that some rooms might not be what he had been told they were.
It was not polite, he knew that, but he still couldn’t help but be curious. He had always wanted to know things, and was of an opinion that knowing things was useful, and could potentially save lives some day. Unfortunately he still didn’t know very much; he blamed his young age. At least he knew which rooms were occupied, and by whom. So he knew which rooms he should definitely avoid.
The first door he opened led to an empty bedchamber. The bed lacked covers and there were no personal items in there. The room behind the second door was identical to the room behind the first one, except it was a mirror image. He skipped the doors that lead to occupied rooms. The next door led to a bedchamber that actually did look like it was occupied, but it was thankfully empty of whoever stayed there. He couldn’t decipher who might stay in there, even through the personal effects that were neatly arranged around the room. But he did see that the room was immaculately clean.
Not wanting to risk being found out by whoever took such good care of their room, Astolphe closed the door and went to the next one.
Pale wide eyes stared back at him in the darkness.
“What are you-...damn it.”
Gralat cut himself off, flew up from the chair behind the desk, vaulted over the desk as if it took him no effort at all, and he pulled Astolphe farther into the room. He quietly shut the door as quickly as he could.
Astolphe had also heard the loud noise and heard the sound of a door opening just before the door behind him closed, but he didn’t think Gralat would react that way.
Astolphe’s brain was rattled when Gralat yanked him toward him, a lasting effect of the previous training incident, he assumed. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears and Gralat’s heart beat hard in his chest. It was too dark to see anything.
“Gra-...”
Gralat covered Astolphe’s mouth with a hand, and he stood at attention, listening, ears sharp for any more sounds. It felt as if the house was much quieter than before, even though there had been no sounds before the abrupt noise either.
Eventually Gralat stepped back and released Astolphe. The look on his face was one of actual disapproval—or maybe it could be classified as dismay—for the first time. There was a barely noticeable difference. But the intimidating aura had returned, and Astolphe’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness.
“Seriously?”
“It’s your fault.”
Gralat scowled at him. “How is you snooping my fault?”
“You implied that you might have lied about the identities of some of these rooms. It made me curious. That’s why it’s your fault.” It was true. He would have been unable to resist for the entire duration of his visit. Maybe he would have lasted a little longer had he not ended up here again, but fate had led him down this path earlier than expected. He tilted his head to the side. “And I decided I might give this Ellvaldez straightforwardness a try, just now when you asked.”
Gralat’s scowl only deepened, and Astolphe ignored it in favor of looking closer at the room. He had been told that it was another bedchamber, but it had clearly been a lie. It was an office, with a few shelves of books, a lamp that looked like it might have been imported from Venedik, yellowed papers strewn over the desk and the floor. Gralat moved to gather them all up. They had been scattered when he vaulted over it.
“I thought your father’s and brothers’ offices were located on the floor below this.” Close to the library. Out of the three brothers, Gralat was the only one who didn’t have his own office.
“They are.”
“So what’s this room?”
Surprisingly, Gralat was quiet. He only continued to sort the papers into their right order.
“Gralat?”
Gralat sighed. “It was my mother’s,” he said. “She died years ago.”
The tone in his voice contradicted the previous statements and opinions Gralat had made about the relationship to death in Ellvaldez. Though...maybe it was just this specific person or situation that made him make that expression. It was a mask of complete indifference, and yet...
“How many years ago?”
Gralat carefully put the stack of papers back down on the desk. His eyes and his hands were focused on the task of laying them perfectly aligned on top of each other. “A bit over nine years ago.”
“That means…”
“That she died because of me.” Surely he was finished with the papers by now.
Astolphe bit his lip. He had clearly struck a nerve. The only tender one that Gralat seemed to have, as far as Astolphe had discovered. “You mean that she died in childbirth,” he said carefully. Gralat’s expression didn’t change. “But that’s not uncommon. And with the climate and situation as it is here in Ellvaldez, it must be even more common here.”
“It’s not exactly right, but…” Astolphe frowned, mind instantly trying to figure out what it was, then. “Common or not, there is no way I can be close to my brothers after that.” Gralat looked up at him, finally. “Not that I care about that.” And he sounded like he really meant that, his lack of closeness with his brothers really didn’t matter to him. But it was still a painful thing to hear.
“Whatever it was that really happened,” Astolphe said. “I don’t think it was your fault, and I don’t think that you should blame yourself.” None the less— “Not that me saying that will change how you feel, but I want you to know that that’s what I think.”
Gralat watched him in silence, unblinking. It was a bit unnerving. But then he eventually closed his eyes, and there was a tight, very small upturn at the corner of his mouth. “You’re right, it won’t change anything, but, still, thank you.”
Gralat straightened up, and Astolphe wondered for a moment if he had grown even taller all of a sudden, but that wasn’t it. He had simply, uncharacteristically, been making himself small. And Astolphe, despite priding himself in being observant, had not noticed until now.
“I’m still going to shove your face in the snow though.”
Astolphe winced. Well. He supposed he deserved that.