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“I’m curious to see what you’ve done with the place,” you tell Jan, gesturing around the manor, “Take some time off from working for a change, and show me around. I should warn you though, I’m expecting great things.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Elle tells Jan, offering him a pained smile, “Nobody else does.”
“And that’s why this country has so many problems,” you complain. Jan laughs, quickly gesturing for you to follow him out of the study. With an easy air, the group splits up and heads off in their own different directions. “Really though, things are already much better than I had been expecting,” you continue, “It’s a wonder what some cleaning and lighting can do to a place.”
“Mm. That’s true,” Jan hesitates, “But I wonder if it’ll ever really be enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, don’t mind me. I was just thinking aloud,” he shakes his head, “How have you been? You look… ah, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you look different. Older, perhaps. I’m not really sure how to describe it…”
Older, but perhaps not wiser. You know what he means, though. Sometimes, when you look in the mirror, you’re startled by the thing staring back at you – something haunted, worn thin by horror. “I’ll take it as a compliment, Jan,” you tell him, shoving down your dark thoughts, “I’ve been through a lot lately. I’ll have to tell you all about it some day, but it’s a long story. But I was able to see Gratia again.”
“Really? That’s excellent news!” Jan’s face brightens a little before clouding over, “She didn’t feel like coming with you?”
“She’s… resting. She’s been through a lot,” you lie glibly, smoothly changing the subject, “You look like you’ve been through a lot too. You look tired, Jan.”
“It’s nothing. I just don’t always sleep very well here. I have… dreams,” Jan pauses, opening a door and waving you inside. You remember this room – it held a collection of Guilder Martense’s artwork before, the sculptures regressing in form as his skills degenerated. The room is empty now, awaiting its new purpose. “We’re still figuring out what to do with this room,” Jan explains, noticing your expression, “I suppose we could just leave it empty. Why bother going to all that effort, when we hardly ever have guests around to see it?”
You can easily imagine Guilder Martense saying something very similar, back in his youth. “Tell me about your dreams, Jan,” you urge, “Does Daniel know about them?”
“He doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to know,” Jan replies with an unusual stubbornness, “I don’t want him to worry about me.”
It might be a bit late for that.
“Though… it might be a bit late for that,” the young man admits, as if guessing your thoughts, “Did he ask you to talk to me?”
“No, this is all me,” you answer, “So if you want to blame anyone, blame me.”
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