"I'll take the six wheat farms on the east side of Jorgen City, along with full control over both Flinn's and Elsie's ports. You can have all their ships, the remaining farms, merchandise, shops, and workers. Business has been booming for them, so you're really getting the best and biggest chunks of this deal," said the overweight man with a crooked eye, addressing the leaner man.
The two men, it seemed, were cousins of Lady Elsie, locked in a heated debate about how to divide the estates of their late cousin and her husband before other relatives of the deceased could arrive.
Lady Elsie, being an only child with no surviving spouse or children, had left everything to Annabeth by default. The same was true for Lord Flinn's properties.
The idea of losing all of Elsie's wealth to a child with no blood relation to them, just weeks after their cousin's marriage, was infuriating to them.
With no one left to contest the inheritance, the cousins were eager to divvy up the assets as quickly as possible, hoping to secure ownership before anyone could challenge their claim. As long as they could get their hands on the ownership papers, they believed no one could stop them from taking it all. The issue, however, was that their own greed had made any real agreement nearly impossible.
"If you want to be a greedy bastard, then fine, I'll throw in this mansion and most of its valuables too! Take a look around," the chubby man said, sweeping his arm to encompass the luxurious surroundings.
"I may be dumb, but I'm not that stupid, Brodie! Setting aside the massive wheat farms ready for harvest, do you really think I don't know that taking control of those ports means I'll have to pay taxes to you every time I bring in goods?" the lean man shot back.
"And besides," he continued, "the ships you're offering are barely worth anything now. Both Lord Flinn and Elsie made so much money from controlling the ports that they had no need for their ships anymore!"
"I'm a skinny guy—I can't handle the big chunks you're talking about. Why don't you take them since, you know, you're already halfway to turning into a boulder?" the skinny man smirked.
"Watch it, Ollie! I was just trying to be generous since you look like a strong breeze might finish you off!" Lord Brodie shot back, his face reddening under his double chin.
The two cousins continued bickering and renegotiating as if they weren't at a funeral. If not for their lavish attire and piles of jewelry, no one would have believed these were nobles with Lord titles behaving so poorly.
Not far from them, the red-haired man in red and gold approached Annabeth.
"Hi, you must be Annabeth," he said warmly, offering a small smile. "You look a lot like your mother did at your age."
"Thank you. My father used to say that a lot," Annabeth responded, still trying to place the stranger in front of her.
"My condolences about your father," the man continued, his face tinged with genuine sorrow. "I came as soon as I heard the news."
"En," Annabeth murmured, nodding slightly as she looked down, doing her best to mask the emptiness in her expression.
The man paused, clearly struggling to find the right words. Funerals were a somber occasion he didn't usually attend—his last one had been his sister's, six years ago.
"By the way, my name is Canning," he said after a moment, scratching his head as if uncertain of how to proceed. "Lord Canning. I'm your biological mother's younger brother."
Annabeth thought she saw a slight resemblance between them, particularly in their shared red hair. They stood in silence for a few seconds.
Just as Annabeth was about to speak, Lord Canning smiled and said, "It seems your other uncles have reached an agreement."
"Other uncles?" Annabeth asked, her confusion evident.
Still smiling, Lord Canning gestured with his chin toward the cousins ahead.
Annabeth looked ahead and saw the two arguing men from earlier smiling at each other and shaking hands. Indeed, it seemed they had reached an agreement. Wait, uncles?
"What were they arguing about?" Annabeth asked, still distracted by the red-haired man and not paying much attention to the two bickering men.
"Hmm…" Canning stroked his chin thoughtfully, then quickly pulled his hand away, realizing he had shaved off his beard.
"They were arguing over things that don't concern them," he finally said, his tone casual, though there was an air of amusement about him.
"Don't worry about them," he added, clearly pleased with something.
"Tell me a little bit about you," Canning suggested, shifting the conversation.
He figured a little small talk might help lift her spirits—he knew that bringing up the deceased directly was a bit of a tactless move during mourning.
"What do you want to know?" Annabeth asked, though she found the open-ended question a little difficult to answer.
"Hmm… I don't know. Tell me about your magic level. I heard once that you're really strong," Canning said, though he didn't directly mention her father's letter. He figured she'd catch on eventually, but he hadn't technically brought it up yet.
"I guess I am. I'm just a beginner with Tier 3 magic," Annabeth answered, a note of pride in her voice.
"Wow!" Canning exclaimed, genuinely impressed. "I was 10 when I finally started practicing Tier 3 magic. That's pretty remarkable for someone so young."
He chuckled, thinking back. "Hmph, I was a lazy bum, huh?"
"Sorry, what?" Annabeth asked, confused.
"Wait, I said that out loud?" Canning laughed at his own clumsiness, remembering he was still at a funeral and quickly reined in his amusement.
Annabeth's lips twitched, a small smile forming.
"Well, I was 10 when I started practicing Tier 3 magic. People thought I was a genius back then, since the average age was 11. But now, looking back, I don't think I should have been too proud of that," he said, a light laugh escaping him.
Annabeth chuckled as well.
"My master always said I was a talented lazy bum who only cared about playing pranks and adventuring with my friends," Canning added, his smile widening as he got lost in thoughts of his childhood.
"What Tier of magic can you perform now?" Annabeth asked, curious about whether this man had ever taken anything seriously.
"Hmm…" Canning began, ready to explain, but was suddenly interrupted by Lord Ollie and Lord Brodie, who both tried to speak at the same time.
"Where…" they both started, only to fall silent simultaneously.
"Where…" They both tried again, speaking over each other, before stopping yet again.
After a few "Let me talk"s from both men, Lord Brodie finally asked, "Where is your father's room or study?"
"And where is Lady Elsie's study?" added Lord Ollie.
Annabeth was about to respond when a voice beside her asked, "Looking for these?"
Canning held out several scrolls in his hands, a sly, malicious smile curling on his face. The scrolls were the ownership documents for all of the properties that Lady Elsie and Lord Flinn had owned before their deaths.
Lord Brodie and Lord Ollie needed these documents to complete the transfer of the deceased couple's property, and they certainly hadn't expected them to be in someone else's hands—especially someone as difficult to deal with as Lord Canning.
"Canning, the sly fox," Lord Brodie unamusedly muttered under his breath.
"It's Lord Canning," he corrected with a broader grin, his tone full of mockery. "And this sly fox is here to make sure you don't get any meat today."