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Turning Master Tomoe's dagger over in your hands, you watch as the first rays of sunlight rise up above the forest outside your window. Since returning from Albershot, you can't look at the forest in the same way. When you look into the dense, dark trees, you just wonder what kind of secrets they might be hiding – and there ARE secrets, you're sure of that. Why else would your father have forbidden you from delving into the forest?
The fact that his orders still have a hold over you causes a small coal of frustration to smoulder in your gut. He's dead and gone now, but he's still got a grip on you.
A faint bell chimes from down below, the tiny sound rousing you from your dark thoughts. Ever since returning to the estate, your mood has been low. Being so idle like this, even if it is to get some well-needed rest, doesn't sit well with you. You'll feel better once you get back in action, even if that means putting your life on the line once more.
“It's from Miss Legrasse,” Alex announces, holding up a flimsy telegram as you descend the stairs, “Barring any unexpected delays, she should arrive at the estate by tomorrow.”
“Excellent news,” you remark, “Any other messages?”
“Oh yes, there was one,” the older man nods, “A reply from Saint Samara's Hospital. That was-”
“The madhouse,” you interrupt, the word heavy with implications.
“...Yes, although I don't think they'd appreciate you using that term. They don't seem especially happy about it, but they admit that they have to authority to stop you from seeing Master Teufel,” Alex explains, “If you want to give him a visit, let me know. I can send them a message so they know to expect you.”
You consider it, but shake your head. “Not now,” you tell him, “I'd rather wait for Elle to get back before making any major moves,”
“It certainly won't hurt you to take a day off,” Alex suggests, giving you a concerned look. That's about as close as he's likely to get to giving you orders.
With a non-committal nod, you leave Alex to enjoy the rest of his morning and take a slow wander through the estate. Agnes has been hard at work while you've been away, cleaning up the worst of the dust and cobwebs. The place almost looks presentable now, if not for the countless empty rooms and general lack of furnishings.
You find Ariel in one such room, sitting on the floor with her disassembled rifle laid out before her. Unconcerned by the lack of furnishings, she cleans and polishes the weapon with careful, precise motions. “Oh, hey,” she begins, glancing briefly around at you, “Take a seat, make yourself at home.”
“Very funny,” you reply, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the wall, “You couldn't find anywhere more comfortable?”
“I didn't want to get oil or grime on your nice clean manor,” Ariel explains, gesturing with part of her rifle, “No rugs, no furniture, there's nothing here for me to ruin.”
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