A gentle snow began to swirl around outside Mitau Palace, coating the already thick layering another time over, blanketing the Regalian countryside like a fog, seeping into each corner it could. The potted trees and hedges within the courtyard offered to and fro movements in the brisk, subtle wind, which occasionally made the colossus estate creak in tired agony. Percy could hear chattery folks and shouting children down by the road, who were heading off to enjoy the fruits of Rothburg. Every so often, Ulysse would poke his graying snout up, sniffing the air with interest as their noises reached his droopy ears. Pursed in lip and quiet in tone, the relaxing man would watch his hound place his paws up on the windowsill, gazing over the playing children with interest alight in his eyes. It had a sad undertone to Percival, however, who could easily note the lacking of the dog's once vibrant fur of burnt orange and browns, and instead see dull color and a graying coat. Symbiotic, the two were bound together in age's terrible claws, each tired and eager to watch the younger creatures play the games they once did.
It was a sad tale, but a true enough one. Gloomily, the middle-aged man thought to himself, "Like two Royal Oaks, we're planted in Regalian soil, Ulysse. But withered and old, surely our chopping is soon.". Despite the cracking and stirring fire burning hot within the nearby hearth, Percy felt a chill up his spine just considering it, his icy eyes still observant upon the faithful dog. Though lingered long they did not, and soon enough gazed back to his lap, where the book he was reading lay open face, pages downward, across his lap. His mug of kaffee was placed aside upon the oaken back of the long, u-shaped couch, and Percival cleared his throat. Tiredly, he plucked up the hardback, turning it over as his free hand scraped along his beard idly.
The cushions gave a subtle rock as, with little warning, the aging hound leaped up to lay beside his master. That gray snout, that massive head of his rested lazily upon Percy's thigh, only causing quiet laughter to find the man. Absentmindedly, Ulysse received a number of scratches behind his ear, the way he used to once he brought down a hare or perhaps pigeon on a summer's hunt. Fond memories, those were, of younger man and beast, carelessly whittling down the fauna population of the capital. "But gone, are those days, old friend.", Percy thought to himself. His mind drifted from the book again. He never found reading a good pastime, not even now. "Dreadfully dull", were the words that came into his head when he thought of books and poetry. In truth, sleep was on his mind now, and what a welcome thought it was. How little it came, and how fast it left him. Percival slept little these days, far less than before. Every time his eyes closed shut, and engulfed him in darkness, he was back in that cell, far off in Rie. Scarce of sun, cold, uncomfortable. Lonely. That was the one. No cellmates, no talking to others. Except that one.
As if on cue, Percy's eyes fluttered open, and there he was, staring at him. He looked so much like him now, it was disgusting to consider. A whine left Ulysse as the scratching ceased, and his master stood up, leaving the bloodhound to merely curl up to himself on the cushions. Percival, meanwhile, heard nothing from the lavishly dressed figure ahead of him, lying in his bed with eyes of the same make. "Why are you here? We saw enough of one another in the cell, but now you torture me here? Does your cruelty follow you in death, father?" No response came from the aged ginger lying in the bed, who merely stared back at his son with eternal disappointment. Somewhere outside, by the road, a little girl shouted in glee. Like the ancient Lampero sigil, Percival stalked forward with silence, his fingers wrapping around the knife's hilt in his belt. He came to a stop beside his father's bedside staring down at him with steely gaze and hammered heart, his voice a whisper. "I will not be haunted anymore.".
