The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 10

There seemed to be days where the dawn had to rise, dragging itself along as if it were not ready to come up, yet the schedule demanded the entrance and so the sun rose all the same. The rays were breathing brilliant color to what was hidden under the passing of starlit night by the time Hannibal and Will had gone through as much decipherable scribblings as was present in the remnants of the study.

With new light casting shadows aside, Will found himself transported from the nightmares produced by lantern flame and was met with a forsaken and neglected manor that had been reclaimed by the earth.

With every paper that had been deemed important stacked in Hannibal's arms, leaving Will with only the dirty sword to carry, the two of them wandered back through the crudely strewn books and over the soot covered wall so that they didn't have to wander the corridors on the way back to their horses.

Once the letters had been found, an urgent silence had fallen between them and the two immediately set to work separating novels from ledgers, letters from children's drawings, and the weather destroyed from the legible.

And all while Will strained to see with the lantern, his mind continued to repeat Hannibal's story over and over again. Each time the scene became clearer, louder, more vibrant to the point where Will thought he might scream with all of the trapped emotions churning inside him.

"When we get back, I'll start digging deeper into these," Hannibal stated as he shoved the pages into the satchel on his saddle. "There were some curious details written..." Hannibal's words faltered when he laid eyes on Will who appeared ready to fall over. "Meilė?" He stepped closer and took his father's sword from the prince's grip. His other hand, that was coated in ash, slipped over Will's cheek. "Are you alright?"

A distant blue gaze met Hannibal.

"I'm tired," Will muttered though Hannibal didn't believe that to be the reason for Will's mood drop. They were both tired and Hannibal was planning to go straight to bed if King Sandford didn't have any meetings planned for him to attend. But this was more than exhaustion. Will's expression was one of internal conflict and Hannibal bit his bottom lip. "I'm alright," the prince assured with a nod, leaving a dark streak across his pale cheek from the dirt on Hannibal's hand.

"You could see it all, couldn't you?" Hannibal's hand slipped under Will's chin and directed Will's attention fully back on him. "Even when we were children you could see things that weren't there."

"Yes, I could see." Will inhaled deeply, his hand taking Hannibal's wrist and creating enough leverage that he could pull out of Hannibal's grip. "My mind has always enjoyed going above and beyond in its duties in making things palpable." There was a worn out laugh and a dirt smudged smile came to Will's lips. "I just need some rest is all."

"Can you ride?" Concern dripped from Hannibal's lips.

"Yes, I can ride."

"And you'll promise me that you'll rest before you start reading those letters?"

Will gave a hesitant nod. The letters. There were over a dozen of them in the satchel. A mixture of both of their writings. The conflicting emotions over the collective works only filled Will a thousand questions and he was certain that Hannibal had his own million to ask.

"How did they get here?" Will thought aloud, turning to look at the fortress that was more welcoming in the early morning's pinks and oranges.

"I haven't the faintest."

Will closed his eyes, slipping back through the night and everything they had found. It was blurred and rushed, unread and shoved into a pile so they could move onto the next thing. But the room that everything had been in. That desk. The desk that was fully burned when the rug beneath only tasted the flames.