Waiting for Manfrid's return allowed a closer inspection of his quarters. In a spacious wardrobe, but without much use of that space, there were some tunics, capes, doublets, shorts and other garments made of fine fabrics, most of which did not seem to fit properly. In some dresser drawers he found rustic wooden toys and among those, dolls mimicking faceless soldiers, nothing else caught his attention.
Aethel even took the chance to look through the curtains, something he thought he should've done earlier. What he saw was a pretty flattened landscape of pine trees, with rare surface elevations, one of which the Fort was located at. It was hard to have a notion of other parts of the fortress because apparently his chambers we're inside of a lonely tower or turret. Far away he could have a glimpse of few straw roofs, and a road that leaded from them to the hill that the Fort sat upon.
Several images of Aethel's presumed father began to appear in his mind, surely they would look alike, he tried to remember what name the woman from moments before had used to refer to him, but he couldn't. It was already clear that Aethel and his father were of some sort of nobility, everything pointed to that conclusion, the treatment of people towards him, the spacious room, and the quality of their clothing compared to the two individuals he had seen in his room.
Unconsciously, a obscurity overshadowed his mood, he remembered the dream he'd had a few hours ago, and the night before. If his home was that fortress, what was he doing in the middle of a dark forest? How many days had he been asleep and what was the meaning of the macabre night visions he had witnessed? He could almost hear that quiet, powerful voice from inside the hut.
''close your eyes''
All that was evidently macabre and at the very least strange, but he felt that the answer was not as far away as it appeared. It was as if at some point he'd known what this was all about, but somehow he'd forgotten every detail. He was very disturbed when the door finally opened in half, at first only Manfrid had entered the room, looking outside trying to convince someone to enter.
- Stop with all this senseless superstition my Lord Kellington - Manfrid scolded someone behind the door - There must be a logical explanation for the boy to have returned.. -
- Don't speak so loud you idiot!- whispered an urgent voice, which miserably tried to sound furtive - You've only cackled and explained nothing so far, I have every reason to believe that this boy... -
Aethel cleared his throat, wanting to draw attention to himself, wanting to see who was speaking, and perhaps deep down he feared what that person would say if he didn't interrupt the conversation. Now Manfrid seemed to take offense, saying grudgingly:
- Forgive me young Aethel, here is your lord father... - He said, fully opening the door.
What Aethel saw was a man as strange as anyone he had met up to that point. He had, from the first mention of a father, the false hope that he would bring back some affectionate memory, or strong and vivid enough for Aethel to remember. But as soon as he laid eyes on the figure, he knew he was sorely mistaken. The man in front of him had already been worn down by the years, had long hair with gray spots here and there, slightly disheveled, wore a faded blue tunic, and a dark silk cloak. His cold, lifeless blue eyes stared at Aethel in clear, restrained astonishment, his mouth had an automatic twist of contempt, he was rubbing his hands together in a pacifying gesture.
Seeing that clearly nervous man with a certain tone of irritation on his face, awakened a new feeling of discomfort for Aethel, something very subliminal and subtle was disturbing in all his father's mannerisms.
- Leave us Manfrid ... - his father grumbled.
After taking his time walking to the door and giving the two a furtive glance, the old Maester closed the door, leaving father and son to face each other alone.
- ...How do you feel Aethel - said the father slowly.
- Well, all the pain is certainly gone, I'm feel like I could even go outdoors without any problems. -
From his father's face, that answer only seemed to have disturbed him even more.
- It would be better if you rested for a few more days - he suggested - as long as you don't do any more imprudence and stay in the Fort, you'll soon be able to go out into the open air. - he said, glancing sideways at the newly closed door.
Aethel wondered what "imprudence" he had committed, and whether these had anything to do with the uncomfortable night he would not soon forget.
- How long was I asleep?- he asked, genuinely curious.
But his father was unresponsive, his attention gradually drawn from the door to Aethel, the previously half-disguised fear and agitation now plain on his face. When he spoke, his voice was distant and shaky.
- You will remain in your chambers until I say otherwise, I don't want to hear about conversations with servants, do what you did last time and it will only be more painful. - His eyes seemed to pierce Aethel.
It was too much. What could he have done to have been trapped, even when he was normal and healthy? Why was his father acting so strangely? As far as he knew, he was the victim. He was the one who got lost in the forest, and apparently he was unconscious. But therein lay the trap, Aethel really knew few things, so he could not rely on his knowledge to understand his father's attitude. There was something obscure to Aethel there that might be the reason for all that coolness and caution.
Aethel knew he would sound silly, but he desperately needed some information, so he said:
- I think I may have lost part of my memory in the ...., in the forest. - he started hesitating - How did I end up there? -
A feverish glint appeared in that man's eyes, followed by a crooked smile. Step by step, he approached Aethel, who, intimidated, stepped back.
- Don't make a fool of yourself, you know what you did, a dishonor and shame. you could have redeemed yourself that night, but it's natural for you to be a coward so don't you babble this nonsense, and don't leave the Keep or these rooms again. - He turned before Aethel could react, striding out the door.
In that moment, something emerged from the depths of Aethel's empty memory, "I hate this man" he realized at once. Disgust and anger were present whenever he looked at that face prone to sneering and comtempt. He did not know what his lord father had done to cause him to be so disliked, but no matter, Aethel was sure he deserved it.
But a fear invaded his heart, also familiar but not recognizable. From the beginning he felt something missing in all of this, a void that should have been filled, and he feared that maybe it wouldn't.
- Where is my mother? -
The answer wasn't immediate, but the hated man had stopped a few feet inside the door, as if processing the question.
- You know what was her fate, she was a... stain in my family name -
No more than a whisper, the truth dampened his eyes.