Chapter 22: Arousing Suspicions (1)

Chapter 22 – Arousing Suspicions (1)

Gris thought that it was a rather odd piece of information to know that Vianut had a penchant for collecting things, especially expensive pieces. Gris didn’t understand that if he was fond of luxurious things, why then had he handed out the valuable gifts he had received yesterday, when in fact, he had a whole storage dedicated to keeping such treasures.

“He likes to collect things?” Gris asked, as she tilted her head in curiosity.

Laurel cleared her throat and started to explain what she had thought of Vianut’s collection.

“I think he brings back meaningful items from the battlefields as a trophy, as a reminder of his achievements. He keeps the storage locked and only he has the key to open it, but if you would like to have a look around, I recommend asking for Sir Byrenhag’s permission, since you are his sister he may permit you to enter it.” Laurel advised Gris, and the former then started to proceed to the next rooms, and Gris followed her quietly, quite lost in thought.

Meaningful items….

Gris shivered of the thought of what Vianut may be keeping in that room. What if it wasn’t the treasures she was imagining them to be. Looking back at his character, Gris reckoned that a man like him would be inclined to keep the head of the animal he first hunted as a teenager or the bones of a man he first slew, and she imagined them to be displayed on some form of peculiar altar.

Gris figured it was important to understand him, what he liked and disliked, this information was going to be vital for her to survive and to avoid suspicion, earning his ire or bothering him. She must live quietly without giving him any trouble. After giving it some thought, she finally decided to ask Laurel a question.

“Have you ever been inside that room?” she asked her.

Laurel instead of turning to answer her, seemed to have fixed her gaze on the side. Gris followed her line of sight and spotted a fingerprint smeared onto the handrail, and she wondered if this print had bothered Laurel.

“Uh, no, ma’am. The storage is managed by Sir Bryenhag and only him”, Laurel answered her, as she took out her handkerchief from her pockets and wiped the smear off the handrail.

Gris reckoned that perhaps the things he kept there were extremely important to him. Laurel continued her steps up the stairs to the third floor and Gris closely followed behind her.

“To be honest, commoners like me don’t have the opportunity to meet him that often. I personally have worked in this mansion for nearly twenty years, but I’ve barely heard his voice,” she replied, looking at Gris behind her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.

It seemed Laurel didn’t want to talk about Vianut and his private life. Gris understood that Laurel was uncomfortable being asked questions related to her employer and so she merely nodded her head in response. She figured if any rumors or information were to leak about Vianut, it was easy for Laurel to be accused of gossiping about the head of Byrenhag.

Laurel glimpsed at Gris, and noticed Gris’ slightly furrowed brows, the former thought that the later may be disappointed in her being tight lipped, and so Laurel opened her mouth, wanting to give Gris at least some information about the master of the house.

“He, however, seems to enjoy painting in his spare time. I saw other servants prepare paint and paintbrushes for Sir Byrenhag.”

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“Oh, he likes to paint?” Gris repeated to herself.

Gris tried imagining Vianut sitting down, upper body leaning towards a large canvas and focusing on his brush strokes as colors slowly filled the white spaces. But it was hard to imagine him looking so good mannered and refined. Her impression of Vianut was far too distinct in her mind; he was a sturdy man with blood on his face, a murderer.

Laurel continued her tour, taking Gris to the guest rooms of the third and fourth floors, and when they finished they finally returned to the first floor, and she was allowed to retire back to her room. When she arrived, she observed that the room was cleaned and organized neatly by Bellin, but there was a set of dirty footprints in the middle of the floor.

Gris swallowed hard, and quietly took a few steps forward, and her eyes followed along the footprints. At the end of the trail she found Stephan standing by the window. The broad-brimmed hat he wore placed a shadow around his face. Gris felt her hands tremble.

Footsteps, Gris heard them slowly approach her room; she rushed out of the room to find that Laurel had followed her, the latter looked at her curiously.

“I was curious if you needed anything ma’am?” Laurel asked, and Gris shook her head.

“No, I don’t need anything, please leave.”

Gris nervously sent Laurel away, the latter gave her an odd look before turning to walk away. She watched her leave and when she finally felt she was far enough she re-entered her room. Stephan was still there near her window and walked towards him, noticing he had put Teer on the windowsill and was watching it.

“How cute,” he said. “Did you name it yet?”

Teer seemed to have spotted Gris and sat down on the window sill and greeted her by wagging its tail. Gris wanted to step forward and swoop the puppy away from Stephan but she didn’t feel comfortable having to walk so close to him to do so. She awkwardly stood by her bed and replied to him.

“Its name is Teer.”

Stephan watched Teer, it was wagging its tail quite excitedly. He then looked into the puppy’s eyes as it barked to get his attention, in response he stroked its soft and tiny head.

“Hello, Teer,” he greeted the small creature menacingly.

It was obvious that the dog didn’t understand what he was saying, but it seemed to have sensed a violent temper from Stephan’s voice and it instantly ceased barking. Stephan held Teer by the back of its neck, and slowly stroked it. Gris feared the pressure he placed may end up bruising the fragile puppy but she could only swallow the lump on her throat as she waited for Stephan to talk again.

“Teer, there is unfortunate news.”

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