"Almost finished, Master Klavier." The maid smiled as she finished bandaging the little boy's arm. "There, good as new."
Klavier raised his watery eyes towards the brown-haired woman and hiccuped through his tears. "H-how much longer d-do they have to stay on for? I don't w-want to take them off too early and have my arm fall off!"
"Oh, stop whining. You can take them off right now. For Christ's sake, it's only a scrape."
Klavier and Sophia turned to look at the fifteen-year-old leaning against the wall, scowling. "And besides, the only reason you were even in that tree in the first place is because youtook my locket and decided to throw it there!"
"I didn't throw it!" protested Klavier, eyes wide and imploring. "I was tossing it up in the air and it happened to get caught. All I wanted to do was to see what was inside of it. And I couldn't even do that…"
"Now, now. Master Klavier, it was wrong of you to take something of Master Kristoph's without telling him. And Master Kristoph, Master Klavier did not mean any harm by what he did. We should just be grateful that the wounds aren't as serious as they could have been."
"I agree completely, Sophia," said another woman's voice. Turning around, Kristoph saw his mother standing in the door frame, a concerned look on her normally distant face. "Klavier, what happened? Are you feeling better now, dear?"
"Mama!" Klavier beamed as he ran to embrace the woman around her waist. "I was up in a tree, but then I fell. I had to get bandages, see?" He raised his hands so his mother could see the wrapping.
"My, that does look painful."
"It's just a scrape," muttered Kristoph through gritted teeth, fingers digging deeper into his folded arms.
"Nevertheless, I'm relieved you're feeling well, especially since we'll be having guests over tomorrow evening." Oh, them. Ugh…. "Now Sophia, if I may speak to you for a moment outside?"
The maid looked up at Katharina in surprise, before nodding hurriedly and standing up. "I'd rather not touch the wounds if I were you, Master Klavier. They may start aching a little." Sophia then left the room to talk with Katharina, leaving the two brothers alone. Klavier looked up at Kristoph, eyes watery.
"I'm really sorry, Kris. I saw you looking at that locket the day after you helped me with the multiplication. You looked like you were thinking reeeeeallly hard about something so I wanted to see what was in it."
"There's nothing in it!" Kristoph snapped, looking away.
Klavier put his hands on his hips and lifted his chin, challenging. "I know there has to be! Sophia said it was a special gift from her hometown, and if you put something in it, something magic happens!"
"There's no such thing as magic," Kristoph said, rolling his eyes.
Klavier pulled his trump card. "Oh yeah? Then explain Santa."
Klavier's eyes gleamed with unwarranted triumph that annoyed Kristoph so much he was strongly tempted to tell his brother 'Santa's' true identity out of spite. But if I do, Mother would never forgive me…
Kristoph gave an annoyed sigh as he leaned his head against the wall. "Whatever, I don't care. It's over and done with anyway."
"Really, Kris? You're not mad?" Kristoph looked surprised at first, then grinned widely. "Yes!" He pumped his fist in the air, and the fifteen-year-old smiled in spite of himself. Then, as if cutting through his momentary bliss, Kristoph heard a muffled but familiar cold voice whispering behind the other side of the wall.
"…You must have at least some idea of where he could have hid it. I know he gave you spare keys to every lock in this household."
"I've told you before, Lady Katharina. I don't know what he's planning, or where he placed your trinket. I've looked for it again and again, but—"
"I know where it is, Sophia! It's in the North Room." Kristoph felt himself grow cold. "I would go in myself if I had the damn key. You favor him over me—despite everything we've been through. Is that it?"
"Of course not!" Sophia whispered imploringly. "But i-it's not that simple, Mistress…"
" 'Not that simple?' Do you realize what is at stake here? That man could be planning on doing something to my youngest son. I will not sit idly by and let that happen."
Kristoph suddenly felt tense as he looked at his younger brother. Despite Sophia's warning, Klavier was fiddling with the bandages.
"It's not that simple because I don't have the key. Master Konstantin took it from me a week ago. He said he wanted to be the only one with access to the room."
"Then he must be hiding it in there," Katharina said triumphantly. Kristoph noticed she didn't apologize and felt a small twinge of pity for the maid. "But have you any idea where he's hiding the spare?"
"If I knew, I would tell you. But Mistress, I hardly think Master Klavier's safety is an issue in this matter. I highly doubt that Master Konstantin would do anything so rash and…sinful."
"He can and he will. My husband's paranoia grows more and more each day. Maintaining the facade in public is one matter, but adhering to his sick little games in my household? I refuse to be demeaned like this, Sophia. I'll be spending my time looking for that key, and I trust you'll do the same."
After making sure the clicking of Katharina's heels could no longer be heard, Kristoph rushed over to a surprised Klavier, who was sprawled across the couch playing with action figures.
"Did you do anything to upset Father, Klavier? Tell me the truth."
"What? I-I didn't do anything! I haven't said more than 'hello' to him all week. He's always either at work or in that one room, all the way on the top floor."
Kristoph inwardly swore. What could Konstantin possibly be doing up there? It probably has something to do with Mother's trinket…
"Umm…Kris, are you going to talk to him about something? I remember what happened last time, and it didn't go too well…I don't want him to be mad again." Klavier trailed off as he looked at the floor. Kristoph winced at the memory, then sighed and placed his hand on Klavier's head.
"I don't plan on doing anything rash this time. I'm just curious, that's all."
Although he said otherwise, Kristoph was going to do something rash. Something very, very rash.
—-
The decision to attempt entry into the North Room was not one Kristoph made lightly. One of the very first rules he learned as a child was never to set foot anywhere near that little room on the highest floor of the manor. But the childish desire to win his mother's approval and play the hero outweighed any misgivings.
But where do I even begin? There were two keys to the room: the one Konstantin always kept in his pocket and the spare that he took from Sophia. Could he be keeping the spare on him as well? If that was the case, then Kristoph might as well give up now.
As he often did when his mind was lost in thought, Kristoph found himself wandering through the art gallery of Gavin Manor. Unlike his mother, Kristoph shared his father's appreciation for artwork, and would often come here whenever he needed to clear his mind. As he walked past the Roman vases and other antiques, Kristoph was very, very careful not to trip on the rug and knock over the sculpture of Themis, which he just barely avoided last time.
As he looked at the portraits of previous patriarchs of the Gavin family, Kristoph felt a familiar mix of insecurity and trepidation. Would he ever be able to achieve greatness like they did? Would they be proud of him, or would they look down on him, like his parents did?
Kristoph frowned and kept walking, now moving into the section that contained a mix of replicas and originals of classic paintings. He passed Primavera, The Storm On the Sea of Galilee, The School of Athens, and stopped before the one that always caused him a sense of unease, and also was the reason Katharina forbid Klavier from entering the gallery.
The Garden of Earthly Delights was a triptych that depicted three theological scenes using surreal and disconcerting imagery. The left was a depiction of the Garden of Eden, the middle showed an array of humans engaging in various fleshly pleasures that was borderline pornographic, and the right displayed the artist's macabre rendition of Hell. It was extremely detailed, and Kristoph often found himself discovering something new about the triptych every time he looked at it. It was also extremely bizarre and abstract, and Kristoph wondered how irked his mother felt every time she walked past it.
He looked carefully at the nightmarish landscape on the right of the triptych and felt his skin prickle. Every time he came here, he hoped he would understand the symbolism a little better, but that had yet to be the case, which frustrated Kristoph immensely. Seriously, what the hell is this supposed to be? he thought warily, looking at a giant pair of ears with a needle stuck through them, crushing several sinners.
As he was looking at that section of the triptych, he felt like there was something that seemed…off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His eyes roved over the painting more intently and then, it hit him. Above the ears, the coloring looked slightly different, though it was hard to tell due to the black background. It was as if someone painted over that section of the background at a more recent time. But why? It was only a few inches long, surely not enough to do a full restoration.
Kristoph was abruptly shaken from his reverie when he heard a deep voice behind him say, "It's a powerful image, is it not?"
Kristoph tensed and looked over his shoulder. Konstantin Gavin was a tall man with glasses and long, brown hair that was usually tied neatly into a braid. His straight posture and attention to outward appearance made it clear why—at some point in Katharina's life–she found him to be a suitable partner.
But not today.
Today, Konstantin's expression reflected a sense of weariness and sorrow, which was reinforced by his disheveled braid and hunched shoulders. His shirt was hastily buttoned and there were shadows under his eyes. He hardly looked like the powerful, imposing judge would regularly put fear into the hearts of defendants and his own sons.
"Hello, Father," Kristoph said carefully. He never knew how to act when his father was in one of his moods, and how Konstantin would react to him was like a flip of a coin.
Konstantin ignored his son's greeting and walked closer to the painting, eyeing it with a reverent expression. "This picture provides a key to our understanding of the universe. If we indulge in earthly delights and pleasures, this"—he gestured towards the right-side of the triptych—"is the fate waiting for us. I imagine Hieronymus Bosch created this triptych as a warning, though unfortunately, his message seems to have been ignored by most."
Kristoph wasn't sure if his father was talking in general terms, or if he was admonishing Kristoph specifically. Kristoph certainly never did anything like the figures in the middle of the triptych, but his father's perception of the world wasn't always the most stable.
"Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?" Kristoph said, hoping to steer the conversation away from the triptych. Please say no…
For once, fortune seemed to be on Kristoph's side. Konstantin gestured to his physical appearance and gave a wry smile. "I doubt your mother would let me anywhere near the dining room dressed like this."
Kristoph couldn't help but give a faint smile in return. Sometimes, his father seemed alright, and Kristoph was able to glean a sense of humanity from behind the Gavin patriarch's glasses. "Probably not." He hesitated, then added: "I haven't seen you recently, Father. What brings you down here?"
Konstantin was quiet for a moment and tilted his head downward slightly, gleam from the glasses obscuring his expression. "Justice is a heavy burden," Konstantin finally said. "Seeing this triptych reminds me that I must never stray from my path, despite the doubts that sometimes manage to worm their way inside the best of us."
Kristoph had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at his father's ego. Work problems, then. He looked at his father attentively, noticing how his father's troubled expression grew more serene when gazing at the triptych. After a brief moment of hesitation, Kristoph decided to take the plunge. "Father, is everything alright between you and Mother? When I was passing by your room earlier this week, I thought I heard some…discussion." Kristoph rushed to clarify. "I didn't hear what you were talking about, I just heard some raised voices, t-that's all."
Kristoph subconsciously took a step back in anticipation of his father's response, but Konstantin didn't seem bothered by the question. His gaze drifted from the painting back to Kristoph, and it was a softer expression than Kristoph expected. "Your mother forgets her place sometimes. Despite the image she projects to the world—and to you—she's no angel."
"I know that," Kristoph said, quickly and a bit indignant.
Konstantin gave Kristoph a look that he'd never seen on his father's face before, a look that might perhaps be sympathy. "Do you? I've seen you desperate for her approval, like a dog begging for scraps at a table. It's a bit demeaning for the presumptive heir of the Gavin household."
Kristoph opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried not to let the fact that he was shaken show on his face, but didn't think he was successful. Konstantin, either oblivious or uncaring (probably the latter) to Kristoph's distress, continued. "She's a shrewd, manipulative woman and I'm sure your behavior hasn't gone unnoticed. And it hasn't gone unnoticed to me that you don't give your father that same level of reverence. Why is that, I wonder?" When he looked at his son, Kristoph felt a spark of panic at the unfamiliar vulnerability. "Unlike her, I'm an honest man. I'll always tell you the truth."
There was a moment of silence where Kristoph mentally calculated how best to answer.
But apparently, he took too long. Within seconds, Konstantin's entire persona turned on a dime. Fast as lightning, he suddenly grabbed Kristoph's forearm and dug his fingernails in so deep, Kristoph bit his lip to stop himself from crying out. "Well?" he snarled.
Because you're like this, that's why. Kristoph tried to push away, but his father's grip was like steel. He saw the manic glint in the eyes and remembered why he hated this man so much. He knew that in a couple seconds, his father would lose it and go off on him completely.
Thinking fast, Kristoph said in a tone that he hoped sounded calm and even, "We have guests coming tomorrow." The 'You can't do anything serious to me without a lot of explaining' part remained unsaid, but from Konstantin's expression, Kristoph knew it was understood.
One by one, Kristoph felt his father's fingers lift from his arm and curl back into Konstantin's palm. Resisting the urge to rub his forearm, Kristoph dared to look in his father's eye and saw the familiar arrogant, smug expression that his father normally wore. Konstantin's arms were folded and his posture was straightened so much that—if not for the messy hair and outfit—he would have looked identical to how he normally looked during family meals or declaring judgment during work. The more human, vulnerable Konstantin was gone, replaced with one of the most feared and respected judges in all of Germany. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.
Konstantin smiled, but there was no warmth to it. "Once they leave, we'll finish this conversation. You must realize your rudeness can't go unpunished, yes?"
Kristoph nodded and tried to look remorseful, though he felt anything but. With one final, sharp look, Konstantin turned and walked away. It was only after his footsteps could no longer be heard that Kristoph allowed himself to exhale. He lifted his sleeve to examine the damage and scowled; there were going to be a few bruise marks.
Kristoph knew there was about a 75% chance that Konstantin would forget his promise of punishment; he'd often forget many things when he was in one of his moods. Still, the thought didn't bring him as much comfort as he thought it would.
And how could he, after what his father said about Katharina? Kristoph's fingers clenched into a fist. What his father said struck a nerve and exposed several vulnerabilities and insecurities, and Kristoph felt as if he were an animal sliced open for dissection.
But the exchange confirmed one thing: Katharina was not the same as his father. His mother may be cold and perhaps even manipulative, but he never feared her the same way he and Klavier feared Konstantin. She was nothing if not consistent.
And because of this, Kristoph was willing to continue indulging in his delusional heroic fantasies. Fantasies that were, perhaps, one step closer to reality, now that Kristoph believed he knew the location of the key. The only problem now was figuring out how to access it.
But that needed to be for another day. The next step would require a bit of planning, and right now, all Kristoph wanted to do is go to his room and rest.
As he left the art gallery and headed back to his room, he thought about how he was able to escape his father and smiled at the irony of the situation. Who would have thought I'd ever be grateful to the Von Karmas?