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The manor is so quiet.
Barok walks into the dining room to find it empty, except for Balmung sitting in the corner, ignoring the bowl of food in front of him in favor of his ball – his ears perk up as soon as Barok approaches him.
“Well, at least I’m not the only one left behind,” he sighs, petting Balmung’s head.
Catherine has gone off to visit her family – something to do about a relative’s funeral – leaving just him and Klint at the manor. In a way, this means things have returned to the way they used to be, before Klint got married; except it’s not exactly the same, because he’s no longer a child, and Klint is a chief prosecutor now. As much as he wishes Klint would spend more time with him, he understands that his duties must take priority.
Klint barely even has time for him, it seems, seeing as their recent conversations hardly ever last for more than an hour. He’s told him many times over to take more time to himself, to take better care of his health, but Klint always brushes him off with the same excuse that his work is far too important to abandon.
He notices Klint is sitting outside with his back facing the window, but he’s not alone – he leans in closer to take a look at their guest – based on the olive waistcoat and silver hair, there’s only one person it can be.
Klint gives him a glare, silently telling him to go back inside, and he is just about to do so when he hears Stronghart say, “Barok, what a coincidence it is to see you!”
“Lord Stronghart.” He quickly bows, “It’s a pleasure to see you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Come, have a chat with us.”
He watches as Klint turns to glare at Stronghart instead, to which the older man simply shrugs, “Is there a problem? I was going to ask about his university experience, that’s all.”
Clearly he had walked in on an important conversation, or at least one Klint didn’t want him to hear – now he’s starting to wish he had stayed in the dining room to wait. Though it is certainly strange to see Stronghart in their home rather than in court, and so early on a Saturday, too – did he stay the night? But if that was the case then Barok would have noticed one of the guest rooms was occupied, unless he came after midnight–
“Fine,” Klint relents, the annoyance apparent in his voice. “Take a seat, Barok.”
“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry I interrupted your–”
Just before he could finish that sentence Klint pulls out one of the empty chairs, and gestures for Barok to sit down.
He takes a seat, finding himself right in between the two of them. Stronghart is smiling at him, while Klint is gazing off into the distance, his brows furrowed.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year since you went off to university,” Stronghart begins – he’s smiling, but Barok feels his heart racing anyway. “How do you like it?”
Klint has told him many times over that there’s no need to be nervous around Stronghart – he’s quite friendly, despite his imposing appearance – at this point he should be convinced that the man is harmless, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to get over his fear.
Or it might be that Klint’s nervousness is rubbing off on him – is he cross with Stronghart, or with him? It’s hard to tell.
“It’s a lot of pressure, certainly. Most of the students come from noble families, so it makes for a competitive environment.”
“Is that so?” Stronghart hums, and Barok can’t help but notice Klint is tapping his toes under the table. He can’t really blame him for getting bored, though – he’s heard all of this before, and in greater detail.
“I had expected the opposite to happen, considering everyone there can rely on their family’s wealth or status.”
Barok nods, “Well, yes. There are some students like that, but most of them are eager to prove their superiority.”
“That’s good to hear,” Stronghart smiles, “And I’m sure you’ve made a lot of friends, being the charming young man you are.”
“I’ve come to know a lot of people, yes, but I don’t necessarily think of them as–”
“By the way, Barok,” Klint interrupts suddenly, “Has Balmung been fed?”
“Yes,” he quickly replies, “Though he didn’t seem very hungry.”
“Huh.” Klint groans, taking a sugar cube and dropping it into his tea. “Alright, then.”
The table is silent once again, and Barok can sense the tension growing in the air. Stronghart takes a sip of his tea while Klint stirs his, staring blankly at his reflection in the cup.
Maybe he should take this as his cue to leave, so they can continue whatever important discussion they were having.
“In that case–”
“I have a rather strange question,” Stronghart cuts in, and Klint turns his gaze towards him; “Considering most of the students there come from nobility, perhaps the topic of the Professor is widely discussed?”
“Mael.”
“Forgive me, I’m just curious is all,” he deflects, to which Klint clicks his tongue. “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to, Barok.”
He steals a glance at Klint, who suddenly seems much less happy with Stronghart – but still, he’s not expressly forbidding Barok from answering.
“Well… it comes up in the news, so we talk about it sometimes.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Stronghart nods, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “All of you will become leaders of this country someday. It’s important to keep up with current events.”
He steals another glance at Klint to realize he is now looking back at him – their eyes meet for a moment before Klint averts his gaze, choosing to stare at the ground instead.
“Surely some of them are aware your brother is on the case, then?”
Barok feels a lump rise in his throat – this case has really taken a toll on Klint, and for good reason. The entire judiciary – no, the entire city of London is looking upon him to solve this case, and though he tries not to show it, he must be worried for his own safety as well. That must have been why he was initially against Barok coming to visit, though he eventually relented.
He exhales slowly, nervously rubbing his hands on his pants – Stronghart is still smiling, but his intense attention is starting to become suffocating. If only he isn't just a university student, so he can help Klint in his investigation, so they can bring an end to this atrocity. And if he ever has a chance to meet this monster in the flesh, he’ll make sure to they know what a terrible person they are, to have put Klint through all this stress–
“Come on, Mael,” Klint chimes in, “Surely they have better things to talk about than a serial killer.”
He feels Klint’s hand on his knee, and only then does Barok realize how tense he has gotten – he takes a deep breath, hoping it will calm his nerves.
“Alright, Barok, why don’t you go back inside?” Klint suggests, “We’ll be done in just a moment.”
“Yes, brother.” He quickly gets up, quietly relieved to have been dismissed. “In that case, please excuse me, Lord Stronghart.”
“Of course,” Stronghart nods, “I look forward to our next meeting, Barok.”