Griselda held the door, motioning for Benedictus to enter first. He stepped past her, unsure of what to expect.
The room was large, with an entire wall dedicated to wide-paned windows. They lit the room well, also giving a spectacular view of the Winnowing Sea.
"I had no idea we were by the coast," Benedictus commented. He ran his fingers over the light brown wood of Kitchen's central countertop.
"Yes, I make an extreme effort to keep unwanted smells away from this place," Griselda followed after him. "The Backend was originally a fisherman's village..." She took light steps, as if worried about the floorboards snapping open and swallowing her whole, "This is the first time I've ever seen this room look... like this."
The walls were painted a stormy gray, while the countertops were a sandy brown. All of the cabinets, above and below, were a kind of blanche-white, with the same sandy finishes.
"Reminds me of a sailboat," Benedictus said. The countertops were barren. He had spotted hooks on the walls, but they were empty as well. He started up top, slamming the floating cabinets open, scanning them for contents and then slamming them closed. Moving quickly, he went from end to end, scanning for something to use. Kitchens don't come empty.
"W-what are you doing?!" Griselda turned away from the windows, moving to stop him. "You might trigger something!" Her voice had shot up an octave, but somehow, still wasn't quite yelling.
Benedictus didn't stop.
"Is our dear Madame afraid of some cabinets?" he joked. Finished with his search above, he began sliding the waist-high drawers open.
"No, you oaf. I didn't realize it earlier, but this room is magical," she stepped out his way, wanting to avoid touching as much of the Kitchen as possible. "This house was built by a pair of retired Heroes a century ago. When this room was originally shown to me, it looked abandoned. I was sure it was in worse shape than the Pantry! Unusable, unworkable, impractical..." Griselda kept going, nervously prattling synonyms.
"Mhm," Benedictus wasn't listening. He had just found a cast iron skillet in the first lower cabinet he'd looked in to. He put it on top of the counter, and moved on.
Griselda, frustrated by the situation, threatened to leave.
"I wouldn't recommend you do that," he said, slapping another treasure on to the countertop.
"Why not? You cannot expect me to enjoy watching you make a racket? It is not within my duties to babysit you."
"Hm..." he stood, dusting himself off. "You just admitted you have no idea how this room works. If you leave, we might not ever see each other again."
That made the Witch pause. Benedictus had no idea if what he said was remotely true; he just knew the room was making her nervous. Griselda of Grenade wasn't the type to show weakness without reason. Her nervousness made him cautious.
"Fine," she finally said, straightening herself. "I will stay until you are done."
"Done," he said, dusting himself off. On the counter before them, was a pile of kitchen utensils. There were also a few pots and pans. He had even found some measuring cups.
"You're really done? That quickly?"
"Ah yeah," he said. "I've found everything I could," he sighed. "Just wish there were a few more things here. Like a sink. So I can wash my hands..." he clapped, trying to shake off dust and grime.
There was a sudden rumbling. Benedictus turned, noticing the sound coming from the large conspicuous gap in the wall behind him. The brickwork twitched, and rattled, hacking up dust and cement. The wall was unraveling itself, coming apart like a puzzle. The rumbling intensified, the floorboards almost swaying past each other. Griselda stepped back, her fingers pinching her dress. She held the hem stiffly above her ankles.
The swaying intensified. It was as if they had been stranded in the middle of a summer storm. Floorboards were rippling like waves. They slammed into walls coming apart with a loud snapping sound.
Griselda moved quickly. She hopped onto the counter. Moving the pile of Things, she sat on her heels, sitting like an anchor. The Witch watched Benedictus ignore everything, coolly unaffected. With a frown, she looked past his head and gasped.
There was a black hole in the wall now, along with many smaller holes in the walls all around them. The two of them stared, curious. On the other side, they could hear a low whistling sound.
"What is that?" Griselda wondered aloud. Benedictus shrugged. The sound seemed to be getting closer.
Bang!
A sink rammed itself through the wall, blowing chunks of cement and brick into the kitchen. Benedictus was blown backwards, ending up crumpled on the other side of the counter.
Griselda pulled her wand from her sleeve. She grabbed Benedictus by the cuff and dragged his torso onto the counter, cursing away.
"This damned room is not worth the trouble Ser Hero," she said, checking to see if he was conscious, "and neither are you!"
He said nothing. His head was killing him and the world was spinning again.
Griselda pointed her wand towards the heavens and whispered another spell. A bubble of air formed around them. Just in time it seemed, as the smaller holes around the room were filled with what could be considered cannon balls.
The shield of air was not impenetrable. Fragments of debris would slip in, battering Griselda and Benedictus. Griselda had it worse, she was sitting up, making her the larger target.
She realized these two things quickly. Forgetting about her pride or about saving face, she moved herself closer to Benedictus, placing his head on her lap. She stooped down, making herself smaller. With less area to cover, the shield of air shrunk too, becoming denser.
Benedictus was fading in an out of consciousness. He had been hit in the head earlier, and was bleeding everywhere. Griselda could still hear him breathing. If she could maintain the spell until whatever was happening was over, he would live. She was sure of it.
But how long would this onslaught last?