Chapter 8

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After their dinner concluded, the mother and son made small-talk while Ms. Squint loomed over them like a demonic statue. Arthur pointedly avoided talking about anything related to the supernatural --- he didn't know how the maid would react, and there wasn't anything Jane could do about it anyway.

"…your grandfather's room when he was a boy." She said, bringing a porcelain teacup to her lips before taking a sip.

Arthur's hands, which he'd been wringing over the fire, stilled. "Oh." He said calmly, but inwardly he was more unsettled. 'Fuck, if the old man lived in there, then could he be responsible for the inscriptions?' He wondered. If the geezer had indeed been some kind of occult researcher, then it would explain why the mansion was so damn haunted.

Jane nodded, staring absentmindedly into her tea. "I asked your grandmother if it was possible for us to room closer to each other, but she refused. Before his condition worsened, Father had stipulated that, if you wanted to become the heir, you'd have to complete his right-of-passage; that's what she told me, in any case." She said, sounding confused.

Arthur carefully took his teacup and raised it to his lips. One of his fingers twitched. 'That fucking old fossil --- the fit should've killed him on the spot! Now he's trying to drag me into this confounded mess!' He ranted, feeling bitterly angry, but what could he do? He was sure that, if he were to suddenly say 'in that case, I won't become the heir', their response wouldn't be very pleasant.

However, it did confirm one of his suspicions --- there was more to his situation than met the eye. After all, if the manor's residents had wanted him dead, they could've just directly murdered him. There was no need for all these accursed scare-tactics. 'Are they just trying to frighten me, though?' He questioned. He doubted that was the case.

Arthur slowly drank his tea. Maybe if it was someone else, they'd be curious, but he didn't give a crap; he wasn't going to investigate anything! What if he discovered something he wasn't supposed to? No, it was best if he just minded his own business while steadily accumulating more Potentia.

He'd long ago thought of trying to invest it in his Particularia or Proficiendi, but the time hadn't been right --- more importantly, in his current situation, he couldn't spend it even if it was possible to do so, because he'd be defenseless. He would have to wait, letting his Potentia grow until he was certain he had a surplus.

Jane was similarly immersed in her own thoughts. For a minute-or-two, neither of them said anything. In the end, it was Ms. Squint who broke the silence. "The hour is late; perhaps it's time to retire the day?" She asked, although her tone made it clear it was less a suggestion and more a demand.

The mother snapped out of her daze, suddenly feeling guilty. She knew that, after escorting her to her bedroom, Ms. Squint would still have to tidy the dining room.

"Yes, it's getting late." She said, glancing at the maid, who stood behind her. "However, I don't think Arthur is familiar with the East Wing yet. Goodness, I remember getting lost in there myself --- if you hadn't fetched me that time, I'd still be wandering those hallways." She remarked, smiling at the maid.

Ms. Squint's didn't move her head, but Arthur was sure she was looking at him. "…Fetcher will escort him." She said calmly.

Jane looked around for the butler, trying to see if he'd arrived in the meantime, but the enormous hall was empty. "Well, he isn't here yet." She said. "Wouldn't it be alright if Arthur stayed in my room tonight? Surely, once wouldn't hurt!" She asked pleadingly.

Arthur felt like his heart was going to melt. 'She's an angel…!' He thought. That room of his was foredoomed --- he didn't want to spend any more time in there than was absolutely necessary! However, he was worried for Jane; he didn't want her to get into trouble because of him.

He tried to open his mouth. 'It's all right, I'll find my way back!' He wanted to say, but nothing came out. The thought of wading through the darkness, with nothing but a paltry lantern to illuminate his way, frightened him into silence.

'…or maybe the maid could take me?' He wondered. It only took a moment for him to scrap that idea. 'I won't let Jane return by herself, nor should she remain here, alone. She can't come with us to the East Wing either!' He decided. If Jane had told the truth, then Ms. Squint had been looking after her --- he wouldn't separate them.

The phantasmal woman was silent. Eventually, she opened her mouth. "…I suppose an exception-…" She started, only to be interrupted by the sound of a large door, slowly being slid open.

The three of them turned their heads, seeing none other than Mr. Fetcher standing there --- he had come through the same doorway Arthur had; it was close to the lounge.

The boy felt a sense of frustration well in his chest. He could tell that the maid was just about to give her approval. The shitty butler was taking him for a ride --- there was no way this timing was accidental!

Mr. Fetcher silently closed the doors before drifting over to them. "Good evening, miss. I've come to escort Arthur to his room, if you've concluded your dinner." He said, looking at Jane.

The woman glanced at her son hesitatingly. "…oh. Well, in that case…" She started, sounding a bit disappointed.

Arthur noticed the question in her eyes --- her offer still stood. "Since Mr. Fetcher is here, I'll be returning to my room. Thank you again, Ms. Squint; for the dinner and tea." He said, doing his best to keep the depression out of his voice. In the end, he decided not to start a quarrel --- he didn't doubt that Jane's proposal would face a lot of push-back, now that the butler had arrived.

He stood and walked around the table. After he'd given his mother a farewell hug, he went to Mr. Fetcher's side.

Jane smiled at him. "Sleep well, Arthur. I'll see you tomorrow, for breakfast --- your grandmother should be joining us, as well. She has your schedule, I believe." She said, giving him a small wave.

After they'd exchanged partings, he felt that familiar gloved hand settle on his shoulder. Before he knew it, he was back in that stone hall, retracing the route. His expression was neutral, but inwardly he was irritated.

There was no reason for them to zig-zag like this, visiting every single damn location. 'Even if this asshole told me this was the quickest way, I wouldn't believe him!' He thought. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was an attempt to confuse him --- the butler was trying to prevent him from learning the layout of the mansion.

But, more than that, it was something else that pissed him off. '…and that villainous bedroom --- it almost killed me!' He thought. Mr. Fetcher had intentionally put him in a deadly situation; whether or not he'd only been following orders was irrelevant. The grudge between the two of them was irreconcilable --- if he was ever in a situation where he'd gained the upper hand, then the butler better not expect him to be merciful!

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Jane and Ms. Squint walked next to each other. They were headed for the North Wing, where Jane's room was located; it was the same one from her childhood. She'd have been able to find her way on her own, but it was customary for her to be escorted.

Silence stretched between them --- the maid was as expressionless as ever, but Jane wore a look of contemplation. Eventually, she spoke. "Where is everyone, and why is it so quiet? I haven't seen a single maid or manservant, aside from you and Mr. Fetcher." She remarked confusedly.

The manor from her youth had been a very lively place, teeming with activity even at night. Yes, it had always been dark --- neither her father or her mother had ever tolerated unsupervised flames; the risk of fire was something that worried them greatly --- but it had never been so… dead.

The maid stopped walking, prompting Jane to do the same. After a few moments of quiet staring, she replied. "Perhaps you should ask the madam." She stated coolly.

Jane drew her brows together, but, before she could say anything, Ms. Squint continued. "Why did you not bring it with you?" She asked, looking down at Jane's arms.

The twenty-six-year-old woman was momentarily confused before she suddenly realized what the maid was talking about. In the light of the lantern they shared between them, Jane's cheeks gained a red tint.

After covering her eyes with one hand, she spoke --- her face was the picture of embarrassment. "Goodness, I'm not a little girl anymore! I can't be carrying around dolls at my age!" She said, spluttering underneath her breath.

For the first time, Ms. Squint's face gained a hint of emotion. "I. Sewed. It. For. You. Miss." She said, enunciating every word.

Jane covered her face with both hands. "I've put it on my pillow, haven't I?" She asked, sounding like she was about to die of shame.

The maid extended her arms and took Jane by the shoulders. "I want you to keep it with you, always." She said. Her featureless eyes, as perfectly white as porcelain, were wide open.

It would've been disturbing to anyone else, but Ms. Squint had been with Jane ever since she could remember --- not only was she a mother figure to her, but she was also her best friend.

Needless to say, the young woman's resolve crumpled in front of the maid's uncharacteristic emotion. "…all-right, all-right! I'll carry it with me to tomorrow's breakfast!" She said, sounding vaguely resentful.

Ms. Squint shook her head gently. "Not good enough." She said, extending a finger and prodding Jane's nose. "I never want to see you without it, understood?" The maid demanded, looking like she was about to pull the girl over her lap and deliver a spanking if she refused.

Jane capitulated. "Fine, I'll do as you say!" She said exhaustedly.

Ms. Squint didn't express her approval in any way, but Jane could sense that she'd been mollified. 'I don't know why she projects such a cold persona.' Jane thought. Ms. Squint was one of the kindest people she knew --- the thought of the head maid staying up late, sewing a doll for her as a present, made her chest feel warm.

Not for the first time, she recalled the moment she decided to run away with Benjamin --- it was something she couldn't help but regret. "I'm sorry." She said with genuine sadness. "I ran off without even saying goodbye."

Jane didn't know what she'd been thinking --- she could only blame it on youthful stupidity, and on a 'the grass is always greener on the other side' mentality. She'd wanted to escape her strict upbringing, but where had she escaped to? A man who had no respect for her, and a life of poverty and insignificance --- that's where.

She'd never been able to shake the feeling that ten years of her life had been wasted. Sometimes, although she'd never admit it to herself, she'd felt a faint resentment towards Arthur --- if it wasn't for him, she wouldn't have been bound so tightly to Benjamin. He was the perfect child, there was no doubt about that. Still, his excellent behavior wouldn't return her best years to her.

'Annabel, Jolene, Marcy and Fiona --- I wonder what they're doing, now?' She thought. They were the girls she'd grown up with --- children from families as esteemed as hers. 'We used to write letters to each other…' She remembered. They'd lived far apart, only meeting in person a handful of times every year.

Ms. Squint was watching Jane carefully, observing her changing expressions. Finally, she spoke. "There's no need to apologize to me, miss." She said stoically.

Jane snapped out of her thoughts. She'd drifted off to the extent that she'd forgotten she was in a conversation.

With a look of uncertainty, she glanced at the maid. "What did you think of him?" She asked with sudden desperation. It could be said that there was nobody who's opinion she valued more than Ms. Squint's. She dreaded her response, yet she had to know.

Of course, the head maid immediately knew who she was talking about. After a moment of deliberation, she answered. "He is very polite. You've raised him well." She said simply. However, the look on her face was indecipherable.

Jane didn't notice her oddness. Instead, she immediately felt relief wash over her. Given who it was coming from, it was a substantial compliment. "I'm glad." She said, giving a small laugh. "Although, I have to say, I had no idea Arthur could eat that much --- I hope he'll be alright."

After she'd regained her composure, the maid answered. "He's a growing boy." She stated, as if that was supposed to explain how he'd eaten enough to food for five grown men.

Jane shook her head. "No, it's odd, no matter how you look at it…" She started.

The two women continued their conversation like that, chatting amicably on their way to the North Wing.

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"…prepared your sleepwear. I've hung them from the dresser." Mr. Fetcher said, having escorted Arthur to his room. He indicated towards the clothing in question.

The ten-year-old boy gave a thankful nod. "They look very comfortable." He said candidly.

His visage was calm, but inwardly he was fuming. 'It was a different route, this time!' He thought. He wasn't so dumb as to not have noticed! The major landmarks he'd noted were there, but there had been changes, without a doubt! In particular, they'd passed an enormous painting, as tall as two people, that depicted a strange, distorted landscape. He certainly would have remembered something like that!

The butler was trying to do him in, no two ways about it. 'But why? Does he want me to remain dependent on him? Or is there something he doesn't want me to find?' He wondered. In the end, he could only guess the reason --- he'd not even been here a day; there was no way he'd be able to figure out the dastardly servant's motivations that quickly.

'Never mind, it doesn't matter.' He thought. Whatever their schemes were, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it. On the contrary, if he did something to arouse their suspicions, it would only be counterproductive. The tablet was his only hope to turn the tables on them.

After the manservant had helped him get ready for the night, he walked over to the door. However, before he left, he glanced at Arthur over his shoulder. One second turned into ten and, before the boy knew it, he'd been stared at for half a minute.

Eventually, he could no longer bear it, so he broke the silence. "Is something wrong, Mr. Fetcher?" He asked, grinding his teeth inwardly. He didn't care what kind of creature the man was --- he was sure the fucker was just trying to creep him out!

Suddenly, Arthur felt a bout of dizziness beset him. He unconsciously stuck out an arm and gripped the bedpost, trying to steady himself. Without warning, the tablet sprung up and a new line of words were inscribed on its surface!

'IRRUMATIO DETECTA! IMPEDIENS!'

The words heated up until they were glowing red --- it was intense, but not to the level of the symbology from earlier today. Arthur felt his heart dropping into his stomach; he'd just increased his 'Potentia', now it was already being drained!

However, just as abruptly as it appeared, the pressure suddenly vanished. The return to clarity was like a bucket of icy water being dumped over his head, and he automatically dropped onto the bed.

"Are you unwell, young master…? I thought you looked pale." The butler asked 'kindly'.

The 'genuine' concern in his voice made Arthur want to vomit. He hurriedly refuted the statement. "No, I'm just tired, that's all." He said. He didn't dare to question Mr. Fetcher's behavior any further. What he wanted most right now was for the damn creature to get the hell out of here!

The manservant raised a hand to his mouth in 'realization'. "In that case, I won't disturb you. Please rest well." He said 'apologetically'.

Arthur watched as the door opened and closed silently. Mr. Fetcher had never so much as touched it --- what could it be, aside from some kind of sorcery? He felt an intense conflict within himself; there were so many questions left unanswered.

'He's intentionally exposing me to the supernatural, yet he doesn't mention it at all.' He thought. It was all so incomprehensible --- if this was some kind of training, then there was no reason for them to be so secretive about it. After all, it was impossible to be taught a subject if your teacher refused to talk about it.

'Unless I have to self-study? Maybe that's part of the 'rite-of-passage'.' He thought. In the end, he had no choice but to put the matter to rest. There was just no way to confirm or rule out any of his guesses.

He considered just getting into his bed and going to sleep --- the silk sheets seemed incredibly comfortable. However, he took the lantern Mr. Fetcher had left behind and stood. It barely even qualified as a light source. 'A single fucking firefly would've been worth more than this shitty candle.' He thought.

He carefully walked into the lounge area, feeling the soft carpet underneath his toes. There was something he still had to investigate, or else he'd never be able to go to sleep. Like a burglar, he crept deeper into the darkness.

When he approached the vanity, he made sure to check if it was still covered. It was, so he continued. The place was really, really big --- it was closer to being a small house, just with the walls taken out.

Eventually he made it to the other side; rather than a wall, there was a hole there. It actually continued! He'd noticed it earlier today --- the whole space was basically a square, with the bedroom being an 'L' shape, wrapping around the bathroom. He still hadn't checked what was around the corner!

He quietly drew a breath before continuing.

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