Inside the manor's living room, a brown-haired young lady sat before an organ, its bench positioned a few inches from a hearth flickering with faint orange flames.
The lady's fingers danced gracefully across the organ's keys, filling the room with a low, melodic tune that painted a sharp contrast against the rough crackle emanating from the hearth.
As he stepped into the living room, the sound drew Heinrich's attention, prompting him to a halt.
For a long moment, both spectator and performer stood in silence, the intricate threads of the music binding them together.
Four minutes later, with the piece having reached its peak, the pace of the lady's fingers began to ease, signalling the piece's descent to finality. Seconds later, it concluded with a firm, final chord.
"Beautifully played, Hannah. Beautifully played."
Slowly standing, Hannah curtsied before her father, "Thank you Father." As she straightened back up, she asked, "And how was your trip to Lübeck?"
"What can I say... it went well for the most part. Your brother on the other hand—" Letting out a low sigh, Heinrich continued, "Still seems... disinterested."
"Give him time, Father... Johann's still growing. I'm sure he'll come around later."
"Still growing?" Heinrich growled, a deep frown stretching across his face. "At his age I was already running half the family's business."
"That's by the way." Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he swept his gaze around the room. "Where's your mother? She's usually around to watch you play."
Gesturing upstairs, Hannah replied, "Oh... Mother's in her room. Been there since yesterday."
"What? Why?" Heinrich asked, his head tilting to the side.
"I don't know." Hannah said, spreading her hands. "All I know is Shirman delivered a letter to the house yesterday. And after reading it, she went up to her room and has been there since."
"Shirman?" Heinrich murmured, then louder: "Wait... isn't that Karl's messenger boy? What's that got to do with your mother locking herself in her room?"
Seeing Hannah shrug again, he sighed inwardly, then began moving toward the room's exit.
Just as he was about to cross through, Hannah called out to him. "Oh and, Father." Seeing him turn around, she added, "I heard sobs when I went upstairs to check on her."
"Alright," Heinrich murmured, before crossing into the adjoining hallway with a staircase at the end.
Having been married to Maria for years now, he'd come to know her as someone who wasn't theatrical.
Meaning that whatever was in that letter had to be that damning.
For a brief moment, images of his good friend Albert Kata passed his mind, along with a terrifying hypothesis.
His knuckles which were already raised to knock on the door before him shook slightly, then paused.
No, they wouldn't go that low. Quickly crossing off the thought, he took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
The short, percussive sound ricocheted off the walls, before travelling down the hallway.
After a few seconds passed without a reply, Heinrich frowned, then knocked again. "Open up Maria."
Seconds later, the door slowly opened, revealing Maria. A middle-aged woman with a graceful figure, and long black hair falling over her shoulders.
The medium-sized bedroom behind her was shrouded in the deep gray of drawn curtains.
A ceiling high wardrobe stood on the left side of the room.
Upon noticing Maria's puffy, red eyes, and the dry creases staining her cheeks, Heinrich asked, "What's the problem dear?" His hands cupping her face.
Before he could react, Maria embraced him tightly. Though surprised by the suddenness of it all, Heinrich patted her back softly, saying, "There... there my dear. It's okay. It's all okay."
After a minute, she broke off the hug. Sniffling, she wiped the tear stains on her cheeks, then headed into the room.
Following closely behind, Heinrich asked, "Mind telling me what's the problem dear." His gaze swept through the dark room, settling on the grey curtains drawn over the windows.
Walking toward it, he pulled it open. Sunlight immediately poured into the room, bathing it in a warmth that dissolved the darkness.
"They're dead, Heinrich."
Turning around, Heinrich replied, his brows raised, "Pardon?"
"The Kata's. They're dead." Looking up, Maria reiterated, her voice cracking under the weight of the words. "Albert, Marta... their kids all dead."
The words hammered against Heinrich's skull, shocking him into a daze. For a full minute, he stood rooted to the spot.
Quickly collecting himself, he asked, "What? How? When did this happen?"
Slowly wiping her cheeks, Maria pointed toward a section of the room. Heinrich's gaze followed her finger and settled on a table standing before an oval mirror.
As he moved closer to it, he saw a folded up piece of brown parchment tucked beneath one of the items on the table.
"Is... that the letter?" He asked, hands already reaching for it.
Upon unfolding it, he noticed several stain blotches on it. The ink of the slanted scripts scribbled in the parchment warped around the edges of the stain, marring some of the text.
His gaze drifted upward, to the first line of the letter.
To my dearest friend, Heinrich,
The pain is heavy in my chest and the world feels cast in shadows as I pen this letter, informing you of the terrible tragedy that has befallen our dear friend Albert and his household.
Heinrich hands subconsciously clench into a fist, crumpling the parchment around its already frayed edges.
Taking a deep breath, he forced his fingers to relax, his eyes returning to the slanted scripts.
Our good friend Albert, along with his wife and children, have been killed.
Even though he'd expected the words, Heinrich felt the world go a blank for a brief moment, turning the bright cascade of light in the room dull.
His legs buckle under the weight of the message, feet shuffling across the floorboards, before plopping him into the wooden chair beside him.
Suppressing the tumultuous emotions in him, he returned to reading the letter.
It happened in the early hours of today, when a band of pirates came upon the Port of Elbe, killing, plundering and burning. By the time they left, parts of the port was covered in soot and gray.
Albert you stubborn fool. A wave of anger and grief washed over him, slightly tightening his jaws. And all for what? Pride and legacy?
Recalling how he'd warned Albert on several occasions, even implored his wife to reason with him only for it to fall on deaf ears, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Having gotten some of the grief off his chest, he returned his attention to the letter.
The bodies I heard were taken to the Church of St Peter's, in preparation for a mass burial.
Your sorrow I know must be greater, for he was more a brother to you. In the end, we can only pray that the Lord grant peace to his soul and comfort to us who remain.
Your friend and confidant,
Karl Weisler
With shaky hands, Heinrich dropped the letter on the desk. His figure dropped over the chair as his eyes drifted listlessly to the ceiling.
While Heinrich and Maria were wrapped in their own thoughts, a sharp percussive knock rolled through the room, waking them from their reverie.
"Ma'am. Is Sir in there?" Gustav's voice came from behind the door barely a second later.
Turning toward the door, Heinrich replied, in a hollow voice. "Yes Gustav. What is it?"
"The serf's are done offloading the cargo. And you weren't in your office like you said you'd be so I thought I'd check here."
Recalling his earlier conversation with Gustav, Heinrich mumbled, "I see." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I'll be out in a minute."
"Alright sir."
Seconds later, the sound of receding footsteps could be heard outside the door.
Watching Heinrich smoothing out the rumples on his coat, Maria asked, "So what now Heinrich?"
Looking out the window, Heinrich mumbled, "What else can we do but pray for their souls?" Turning around, he went on, "Tomorrow we'll visit the church. Inform the kids about what happened."
Seconds later, the door closed behind him, leaving Maria alone in the room.