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It had been quite a while since Amonlogia had last hosted a formal event such as this.
As the years had passed they simply had become more and more rare.
The Duke and the young Lords still got invited to other noble gatherings —such as balls— but even the attending of those sorts of events had become rather infrequent in the house of Amonlogia.
He supposes it is because Duke Dáchtyla is getting older and therefore bares lesser interest in attending balls now —not like he had ever been a big fan of festivities, even when he was still expected to court a young Lady.
However, on rare occasion, such as today, the halls of the Amonlogian castle would be allowed to bare a lager crowd than they usually do.
Gampá leans his forearms against the inner edge of a large arched window and takes another drag from his cigar. He slowly lets the burning smoke he had gathered in his lungs escape from his lips, as he lets his gaze wander over the calm waves of the sea underneath him.
The usually beige sand has taken on more of a dark blue tint, as the sun had slipped behind the horizon, leaving the usually bright sea cooler and less inviting.
A gentle breeze wafts the loud chatter of their guests to his ears. The festivities clearly hadn’t calmed down since he had left the stuffy ballroom to get some fresh air.
Gampá sighs, he supposes he is getting too old for these sorts of things too.
Back when he had been younger, he had enjoyed accompanying his daughter to the celebrations she had been invited to. Or rather, which the Duchess had always requested her to attend with her.
A small frown tucks at his lips as he remembers the girl that had once walked the halls of the castle. His daughter had charmed the late Duchess rather quickly and she had soon become her first true friend in this country.
The lady’s death had been a tragedy.
The moment he had to witness the castle physician inform Duke Dáchtyla about his wife’s passing is still burned into his brain.
He had watched the man’s face crumble in grief right in front of him. Gampá doesn’t know if the affections the Duke and her had shared had ever been of a romantic kind, but they had been fond enough of each other that her death had affected him greatly.
He takes another drag from his cigar, pushing the sorrowful memories away into the back of his head.
After a while of watching stray sand corns dance in the wind, he hears the soft patting of foot steps echoing down the hallway.
He moves back a little to look for whoever the steps might stem from.
His eyes land on Anticheiras, the oldest out of the Duke’s four children. His left shoulder is leaned against the wall to steady his bodyweight, as he seems to adjust something on his shoe. After a short while of struggling, he finally manages to pull the buckle of his shoe to his desired tightness.
He taps the heel against the wall a few times, as if to make sure it would stay that way, and begins to straighten up.
His lanky form sways as he pushes himself away from the wall, as if he struggles to keep his balance.
Gampá clears his throat, before addressing the young man.
“Good evening, Lord Anticheiras. What brings you out here?”
Anticheiras lets out a high pitched yelp, startled by the other man’s voice.
Gampá flinches, feeling a bit guilty for startling the other.
The young Lord squints his eyes a bit and begins to gradually relax, as he realises who the person that had spoken to him had been.
He waves at the older man before muttering a quiet hello.
Anticheiras had always been a very quiet child, only speaking with people he knew, if at all.
Gampá faintly remembers that he used to struggle with a light stammer when he had been little, which his father had chastised him for, telling the child to rather stay quiet if he couldn’t express what he wanted to say confidently.
The speech impediment had eventually let up as he had gotten older, but the trained behaviour of not letting himself be heard by others had stayed anchored in his mind.
At least this is Gampá’s suspected reason for Anticheiras’ soft spoken nature.
“I apologise for startling you, my Lord,” Gampá calls out to him, smiling a bit as he offers the apology.
Anticheiras only shakes his head as a way of telling the man that he doesn’t have to worry about it.
The young man briefly looks from side to side, before making his way towards Gampá with swift steps.
The older man holds up a fresh cigar, offering it to the other.
Anticheiras wrinkles his nose in distaste and shakes his head.
“Thank you…but… I don’t smoke,” he stops to waft away a cloud of the white, bitter fumes, which had escaped from Gampá’s own cigar, with his gloved hand, ”it’s smelly,” he adds.
The older man snorts, moving the hand in which he holds the cigar away from Anticheiras’ face.
“I apologise, again. It’s just that people usually come out here to smoke, especially when there are festivities.”
The young Lord blinks at the Retainer and draws his lips together, as if he would say the word ’Oh’.
Upon closer inspection, Gampá notices that the young man’s bangs are pulled out of his face tonight, instead of hanging in front of it like curtains in the way they usually do. He assumes it to be Deiktis’ doing. Without the strawberry blond strands in the way, one could see the prince’s face much clearer.
A face too thin for his young age, in Gampá‘s opinion. The entirety of his silhouette is too bony for someone who grew up in a noble family, all sharp edges and angles. To the point where Anticheiras’ boniness couldn’t be excused to his tall height —which he inherited from his father— anymore.
Aside from his father’s height, he hadn’t inherited much from that side of the family. Anticheiras is a lighter type. His hair is definitely from his mother. Those strands of strawberry blond, which are considered to be so very desirable in Amonlogia.
After eyeing him for a short while, Gampá decides to ask the young man once again:
“So, if you don’t smoke…what brings you out here?”
“I’m not exactly… a huge fan of events like these.”
“Ah, too many people?” Gampá asks.
“Mhh, too much overall.“ The other replies, waving his hands around in a circular motion.
The older man sighs. “You are like your father then, he never really liked all of this, even when he was younger.”
“I don’t think Rochalízo likes them either.”
Gampá raises one of his eyebrows, ”Oh, has he run off to somewhere again, like the last time?”
Anticheiras nods slowly. “I think so… he must have slipped away during the second dance,” he pauses, then adds more quietly, ”together with that raven haired violinist.”
“Hm? It’s nice to see him socialise with other people besides my grandson.” A small smile tugs at Gampá’s lips.
The strawberry blond looks down at his intertwined hands and bites his lower lip.
“Mhm, yeah.”
Anticheiras seems fidgety. Well, he oftentimes is, Gampá had noticed. He would wring his hands together or pick at the skin of his fingers, specifically around his cuticles, until he drew blood.
“Is something on your mind, my Lord? You seem a bit distracted.”
Gampá gestures to his hands.
“Also, my Lord, you should stop picking at your poor hands, or else the spots will keep getting inflamed.”
Anticheiras looks up and lets his hands rest at his sides instead. It looks almost unnatural, his arms weirdly tensed.
“I apologise. I know it’s not a pretty look.”
“Oh, young Lord, that is not what I meant. I just thought that it must hurt after a while.”
Anticheiras looks at Gampá with those big doe eyes of his.
“Ah, no it’s fine. I heal fast and it doesn’t even really hurt.”
Gampá hums.
“Something has got you worked up,” he eyes the young man’s tense jaw, “more than usual,” he adds.
Gampá can see Anticheiras gnawing at his lip, while he looks for something to reply. After a short while he seems to settle on something to say.
“Sometimes, I am worried.”
From what Gampá can tell by the way that Anticheiras acts on the daily, and his often times tensed frame, it is not just ’sometimes’ that he worries.
“I can see that,” he answers jokingly. He can afford to jest like this when it is only the Duke’s son, and not his excellency himself.
Anticheiras makes a face. Gampá assumes it is supposed to show amusement, but the young man fails at it.
He shakes his head. “No, I meant that I am worried about my youngest brother.”
Gampá raises an eyebrow. “Sir Rochalízo?” He sees the other nod in confirmation. “How come?”
Anticheiras picks at the sandstone of the wall next to him as he talks. His voice struggles to fight against the nightly wind, and Gampá thinks that if he had stood anywhere else than right beside the young Lord, he would not have been able to make out his next words.
“I am worried that my brother might be lonely. He doesn’t seem to have many friends, does he?” He averts his eyes from the wall to face Gampá instead. “No one I know of besides your grandson, as far as I am aware of.”
Unfortunately, Anticheiras isn’t incorrect about that. Lord Rochalízo does indeed seem to struggle with finding friends. He always had. Not that his Lord is overly shy, or ever had been, but he had never seemed too inclined to…people.
However, Gampá does notice that Rochalízo seems to make more acquaintances whenever he goes on one of his sailing trips.
He wouldn’t call those people his friends, but at least the young Sir seems to enjoy conversation more, when it is held outside of the context of the court.
Gampá’s lack of an immediate answers seems to have prompted Anticheiras to continue to talk. The young man fidgets with a loose strand of his hair. One of the few which must have escaped from his updo, as they do not look intentional.
“Not that having one close friendship is a bad thing, of course. I am thankful for Chasmourito, but…” he trails off.
“…You’re concerned that the lack of friends might make your brother unhappy, or discontent?” Gampá finishes for him.
Anticheiras nods reluctantly.
Gampá wonders if this is a good time to mention that Lord Anticheiras himself doesn’t seem to have many friends either. The fact the he stays in his room on most days, or at least within the castle walls, is a common known one. It is the very reason why he would often times be described as looking like a ghost, with how pale he is.
“If it calms you, Sir, it’s not like your brother doesn’t talk to anyone besides my grandson. Especially when he travels, he makes acquaintances and strikes up conversations.” Gampá smiles at he young man warmly. “Also, you mentioned that you saw him talking to that violinist earlier, so isn’t that something?”
Anticheiras shakes his head. The loose strands of his hair whip around his cheeks at the motion. If Gampá squinted hard enough, he could see the faint freckles covering his cheeks. A trait all of the brothers share among each other at varying intensity.
They would be much more apparent on Anticheiras, if they were more darkened by sunlight—like Rochalízo’s— and not covered by a thin layer of powder — as Deiktis’ usually tend to be.
“Yes, he talks to people, I would very much hope that he does so,” dark brown eyes lock with Gampá’s black ones.
“However, I am assuming that we both know that these encounters don’t end with friendship.” Anticheiras’ shoulders slump slightly. “The coming morning Rochalízo will have moved on from the conversation he’s having with that violinist just as Deiktis will have moved on from whatever girl he is attempting to woo right now.”
The young Lord blushes as he realises his choice of words.
“Maybe…that wasn’t the best comparison, uh-“ Anticheiras covers his mouth with the tips of his fingers in embarrassment. “I am sure you understood what I meant. Apologies.”
Gampá chooses not to comment. Neither on Anticheiras’ comparison, or the following stammer. It is also very much not his place to share the personal suspicions he had on that particular topic.
“I believe I do, yes.”
Anticheiras sighs.
“I simply wish that he had it a bit easier with finding friends. I fear that he is lonely in this court.”
There is a thoughtful look in the young Lords eyes, and, if Gampá is not mistaken, a touch of fear. Fear of what exactly, he does not know. However, he can assume.
He knows that Lord Anticheiras is not exactly enthusiastic about Rochalízo’s travels.
Anticheiras would probably much rather have him stay at court, where he knew that his youngest brother would be safe.
The young Lord is scared of nothing keeping Rochalízo in the Amonlogian court.
He’s also scared of his brother growing lonely if he does. Despite being conflicting, those two concerns could certainly exist at the same time.
Gampá had always been able to tell how much Lord Anticheiras cares for his younger siblings. So much so, that he could be too overbearing about it. Something, which the other three, and especially Rochalízo, probably interpreted as belittling most of the time.
Gampá debates a little with himself, before he says his next words. He is unsure if he is fit to say them.
“I suppose the court isn’t that kind to some people.”
To most, probably. He thinks of the late Duchess who had died so far way from her beloved homeland which was so different from Amonlogia. He thinks of Duke Dáchtyla, and the way his years of ruling had changed the once so soft-hearted young man into something different. He thinks of his young Lord Rochalízo, who so very obviously does not feel like he belongs in this court. This he knows, despite the fact that Rochalízo had never uttered these thoughts to Gampá.
Maybe he even thinks of the young man in front of him, one with a delicate spirit that probably did not bode well with the stress of being the heir the to amonlogian duchy.
The young Lord does not answer. Instead his eyebrows scrunch together and his focused gaze from before slips over Gampá’s shoulder slightly.
The Retainer does not speak with Lord Anticheiras enough to know what this means. He had studied the Duke’s and Rochalízo’s body language enough over the years, to be able to tell most things about their mood based on the way they act. With Anticheiras, however, he does not have that practice.
The silence between the two does not last long, and after only a few moments, Anticheiras’ eyes slip back to the way they had been before.
Focused and attentive, but with a bit of sadness or melancholy hidden under that deep brown.
The young Lord clears his throat and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand.
“I- well,” he stumbles over his words, “I am probably expected back soon. There are many guests…”
Gampá hums, deciding not to comment on the sudden change in topic.
“Certainly, you must be, my Lord.”
Anticheiras nods his head from side to side. He doesn’t meet Gampá’s eyes anymore. Instead he is staring at his shoes buckles.
“I shall go. Good talk, Gampá.”
Gampá bows slightly. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Lord Anticheiras starts to leave, but before he could leave Gampá’s sight completely, he halts.
The older man believes that he can hear him exhale heavily.
“Gampá?”
Gampá’s posture straightens. A response, which had become automatic over all of the years he had served the Duke and his family. “Yes, my Lord.”
Anticheiras does not turn to face him as he utters his next words.
“Please look after my younger brother the next time he goes on one of his little sailing trips. Give him guidance,” then, he does look up, “and make sure that he returns home.”
“…Of course, my Lord.”
Lord Anticheiras leaves with the same swift steps that he had approached with and Gampá is left alone once again with the soft sounds of the sandy waves crashing against rocks and the bitter smelling smoke of his cigar.