Chapter 85 - A Cold Dusk

[The Gradral Household]

Only a day had gone by since Amice's funeral, but the atmosphere of utter grief had yet to be lifted off of the Gradral household. 

Reynard shuffled past his mother's bed and slid down all the empty or half-empty medicine bottles into a wastebasket. He put the basket on the floor and turned to make his mother's bed. It had been creased and messed up when her body was being lifted to be taken to the mortuary so that it could be treated for the burial. He had been one who had lifted her, and since it was his fault that his mother's bed had become messy, it was given that he made it as well.

Tenderly, Reynard lifted the sheet his mother had used to cover herself with and carefully folded it into four sections before laying it neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he smoothed out all the wrinkles on the sheet she had laid on. 

Just when he thought the white sheet looked perfectly pristine, a drop of water fell on the edge of it. Reynard gazed at it as the drop absorbed into the sheet, leaving behind a dark grey mark which would soon evaporate away. He had yet to realize that the drop of water had in fact been released from his own tear ducts. 

He lay next to his mother's bed like the way he always used to when she was alive, and put his head against the bed's frame. It was no time to cry, he decided for himself. He still needed to clean the rest of the room.

He groaned as he stood off the floor and pulled out the drawer of the nightstand his mother insisted on keeping by her side.

"In case I need to put something there," she had said, stroking her son's head.

Reynard's face crumpled as he remembered his mother's touch. Gathering himself with a deep sigh, he fingered through the components in the drawer, which included a small, empty vial of some sort, a few spare coins, torn out medicine labels, a random spoon and a piece of paper shredded into bits. 

Confused, Reynard picked out the small pieces of paper with ragged edges and collected them into the palm of his hand. One… Two… Three… Four… There were 8 pieces in total. 

Reynard frowned when he saw thin strokes of blue ink on the individual rips of parchment, as if something had been written on them. Hastily, Reynard slid the drawer back into place and got working on arranging the pieces of paper to form the original note.

Soon, after putting his mind to arranging the little pits like a child does when solving a  jigsaw puzzle, Reynard finally started to recognize the smooth curves of his mother's handwriting. The sight made him teary again.

Then he sighed and tried to read the hurried scribbles. He mouths the words as he scanned them, puzzled by what they meant.

'My sweet boy,

I hope you get what was always rightfully yours to begin with. Fight for it, and let it not slip away from your hands. I love you.'

Reynard frowned. What was rightfully his to begin with? What does that mean?

He heard a sudden clatter outside his mother's room, and hastily, he put the individual scraps of paper into his pocket before he ran out to check what had happened. 

"Erm… I tripped," said his sister when he discovered her on the floor with a broken plate near her feet. 

"You should be more careful," he muttered as he crouched down to gather the broken ceramic. "These were Mother's favorite plates."

"Don't touch them; you'll cut yourself!" Rosa chastised as she slapped Reynard's hands away from the shattered plate. "I'll do it. I think I tripped over that bit of loose floorboard over there. We should really get that fixed."

Reynard's eyes trailed over to where his sister was pointing, and indeed there was a loose floorboard inching upwards at one end because of a loose screw. 

"I'll hammer it by tonight."

"Thanks, Reyn." Then Rosa looked up to see where her brother had emerged from, and saw her late mother's room slightly open. "What were you doing in Mother's room?"

"Hmm?" Reynard looked up to see his sister looking at him inquiringly. "Oh. Just...cleaning."

"Is that so?"

"Mm."

It was evident that Reynard had been distraught after their mother's passing away, but she had hoped he'd go back to his usual self in a day or two. She now realized that the grief was much more deeply embedded into his heart than what she had thought. He had become rather...dull. His usual happy, sparky self had yet to reemerge, and Rosa kept praying that it would happen more quickly.

She couldn't bear seeing her brother acting so limp and lifeless all the time.

"Why don't you go out and have some fun?" Rosa suggested, trying to mask her concern as she acted as cheerful as she could, given the situation. "How about eating out with some friends? Or… I know! Why don't you go horse riding at the grounds! You love horse riding, don't you?"

"Rosa-"

"Remember that black horse you so loved when you were a bit younger? I bet they still have him in the stables at the riding grounds. You even named him, remember? Coal, was it?"

Reynard sighed. "Rosa, listen to me. Please. I'm alright, I really am. I want to have dinner with you and father tonight, so I'd rather not eat out. Where's father anyways?"

Rosa gathered the broken bits of plate and stood up, putting them on the table. "I think he went out for a drink with some of his friends at that old pub he always used to go to."

"Uncle Franke's place?"

Rosa nodded. "You should go get him since dinner's almost ready. If he's drunk, he'll need someone to get him home. You know how he is."

Reynard almost chuckled as he remembered the past drunk episodes of his father. Almost. 

"Okay, then," he murmured as he put on a hide jacket hung on a nail near him. As he opened the front door, a cold gush of wind greeted him, making him shudder. "In and out in a minute."

✿

The streets of Eyress seemed colder than how he remembered them to be. With his hands deep in his pockets, he walked swiftly through the main road where there used to be stalls on either side, stall keepers announcing their products every few minutes. Chaos, really, with all the people bargaining the seemingly high prices and the kids running through the crowd, either playing games or being chased down by stall keepers for stealing an apple.

But after the funeral ceremony of the Crown princess so dear to people, the people had removed their stalls as a sign of mourning. Only a few remained.

"Is that Simon's son? Oi, Lori, it's Simon's son!"

Reynard paused and turned around to look at a small stall with two vendors behind the table, looking surprisingly at him. 

Lori? "Miss Narbeth?" Reynard looked at the other woman, who had apparently spoken. "Wait, Miss Faylen? Is that you?"

The women exchanged glances and beamed. 

"So it is you!" gushed Miss Faylen, Reynard's old academy teacher. It had been ages since he last saw her. Maybe that's why she looked so weak and old. Beside her, Miss Lori Narbeth, another academy teacher he had seen at the academy but was never taught by her, stood happily with an apron around her neck. 

"Miss Faylen and Miss Narbeth," Reynard breathed as another gust of wind flew past. "What are you both doing here?" 

"Oh just call us Lori and Pyria," said Miss Narbeth. "We're not teachers anymore, as you can see yourself." She gestured towards their stall. 

It was a cake stand, with a wide array of circular baked cakes displayed on cake stands and covered with clear lids. Reynard noticed some of them had raisins in it, while others looked like they were made with bits of chocolate and berries.

"Lovely," he muttered as he fished into his pocket and pulled out a few copper coins. "Thanks, I'll take a slice. Which one do you recommend?"

"Ooh!" The women jumped to it, seemingly happy to have a customer. "You'll love the chocolate cake, love." They cut him a slice and handed it to him after wrapping it with parchment. 

"Thanks," he smiled and reached forward to give them the coins, but the women didn't take it. 

"Oh no, it's on the house," Lori said, refusing to take his money. "It's just a slice."

"Yeah." Pyria laughed, rubbing her hands against the cold spells of wind. "Go along now. It was nice to see you again, son. Tell your friends about us, yeah? And your family, too. Ah, that reminds me, how're your parents?"

Reynard took a shaky breath. "Doing great," he croaked out. "I'll come by again. See you!" With that, he hurried past with the cake slice in his hand. In the cold weather, the only thing that gave him comfort was the warmth of the freshly baked cake slice.

.

.

.

Reynard pushed open the door to 'The Longing Table', a place where he hadn't set foot in for a long time. All around was the orange glow of the lanterns and the heat wafting from the fireplace. Uncle Frank liked his inn to be well-lit and comfy. 

Reynard took off his jacket and hung it on the hooks amongst the others. Then he walked down the tables where people sat laughing and drinking huge glasses of beer, while others sat on the floor near the fire, playing cards. It was comforting to see others live happy lives while your own had flung into misery. 

Most of the people Reynard didn't recognize, but there were some faces who he faintly remembered. Anyways, he walked through a door that led to the back lounging area, where Uncle Frank insisted on keeping his receptionist desk. 

"Father?"

The lounge was empty, except for a couple who sat talking in a corner. His uncle's desk was also left unattended. Reynard was sure his father was bound to be with Uncle Franke, but he had yet to spot either of them. 

"Where are they?" he murmured to himself as he opened the door behind Uncle Frank's desk that supposedly led to an inner office, but it was very dark in there so he didn't go in further. 

He decided to ascend the stairs that led up to the rooms. The long row of doors and doors that met him on the landing didn't clue as to where both of them might be. Since Reynard knew that the very last room in the corridor belonged to Uncle Franke himself, he decided to try there.

"Uncle Franke? Father?" he called as he knocked on the closed door. He tried the knob but the door was locked. "Uncle, it's me, Reynard. Hello?" But there was no reply. 

"That's strange," he murmured to himself as he bent down to look beneath the crack of the door. There was no light coming from inside. It was dark. "If both of them aren't here, then where are they?"