The walk to my father's office was a silent one. He moved with quick, purposeful strides, his back rigid, while I followed a few steps behind, my heartbeat steady despite the storm of emotions brewing within me.
The office door loomed ahead—a heavy, ornate thing carved from dark wood and inlaid with gold filigree. My father opened it without a word and stepped inside, motioning for me to follow.
The room was just as I remembered: dark and imposing, with shelves of leather-bound tomes lining the walls and a massive desk dominating the center. Behind it hung a portrait of my grandfather, his cold eyes watching over the room like a specter of judgment.
Father walked to the desk and gestured for the servants to leave us. Once the door closed behind them, he turned to a hidden safe behind a painting. With a flick of his wrist, the portrait swung open, revealing shelves filled with neatly stacked coin bags, documents, and gemstones that glittered in the dim light.
He retrieved a bag and placed it on the desk with a dull thud. "There," he said, his tone brusque. "Eight hundred gold coins, two hundred copper, and twenty high-grade mana stones. You'll find it more than sufficient."
I frowned, my eyes narrowing as I opened the bag to inspect its contents. [Appraisal], I thought.
[Leather Bag]
Gold Coins: 800 Copper Coins: 200 High-Grade Mana Stones: 20
"This isn't the agreed-upon amount," I said, my voice calm but firm. "The deal was one thousand gold."
Father leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I don't have that much liquid gold at the moment," he admitted, his tone tinged with annoyance. "I recently invested in a new venture. This is what I can spare. Take it or leave it."
I met his gaze evenly, refusing to waver. "Fine. But I'll require something else to make up the difference."
His brow arched. "And what would that be?"
"A carriage and horses," I said without hesitation. "And access to Mother's room. I want to take some of her belongings as keepsakes."
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse. But then he nodded curtly. "Done. I'll have the servants prepare the carriage immediately. As for your mother's room, take whatever you want. I have no use for it."
His dismissive tone set my teeth on edge, but I forced myself to remain composed. "Good. Let's finalize the paperwork."
Father pulled out a blank sheet of parchment, dipped a pen into a vial of glowing blue ink—a mixture of holy water and crushed mana stones—and began drafting the contract. The scratch of the pen against the paper filled the room as I watched him, my eyes scanning every word he wrote.
When he was finished, he slid the parchment across the desk toward me. "Read it carefully," he said, his voice clipped.
I picked up the contract and began reading, my eyes darting across the elegantly scrawled words:
Binding Agreement
I, Marydia Graywared, hereby renounce all claims to the title, lands, and holdings of the Graywared family. In exchange, I will receive:
Guardianship of Eliot Graywared. A sum of eight hundred gold coins, two hundred copper coins, and twenty high-grade mana stones. A carriage and two horses, fully equipped for travel. Access to the belongings within the quarters of the late Lady Graywared.
Upon signing, this agreement is legally binding and irrevocable.
Signed,
Marydia Graywared
Baron Graywared
The terms were straightforward, but I wasn't about to trust him completely. I cast [Appraisal] on the contract.
Binding Contract
Enchantment: Truth Seal (Prevents falsification or tampering) Status: Authentic
Satisfied, I picked up the pen, the mana-infused ink glinting faintly in the light. The moment my signature graced the parchment, the document glowed brightly before splitting into two identical copies.
"Done," I said, folding my copy and slipping it into my inventory.
Father studied me for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "You've changed," he said finally, his tone softer but no less calculating.
"Perhaps," I replied, meeting his gaze. "But you should know better than to underestimate me."
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Very well. The carriage will be ready in an hour. I trust you'll keep your end of the bargain and leave quietly."
"I will," I said, rising from my chair.
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.
"Marydia."
I paused, glancing over my shoulder.
"Don't come back," he said, his eyes cold. "You've made your choice. There will be no place for you here."
I didn't respond, didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing whether his words affected me. I simply walked out, my steps steady and unyielding.
The door to my mother's quarters creaked as I pushed it open. Dust motes danced in the thin sliver of sunlight filtering through the heavy curtains, casting the room in a muted, melancholic glow.
It was exactly as I remembered—untouched, as though time itself had frozen here. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mixing with the faint tang of neglect. My heart ached at the sight, but I pushed the feeling aside. There was no time to linger on sentimentality.
I began my search with purpose, my eyes scanning the room for anything of value or personal importance. My mother had always been careful to keep things hidden, her cautious nature a product of life in a household where trust was a luxury.
My gaze fell on the ornate full-length mirror near the bed. It was a familiar piece, its gilded frame carved with intricate floral patterns. A memory surfaced—my mother's soft voice telling me stories as she brushed my hair in front of that mirror. She had mentioned once that it held a secret, a place where she had hidden treasures meant for me.
I approached the mirror and whispered an incantation under my breath, summoning a faint pulse of mana. The reflection shimmered for a moment before fading, revealing a hidden compartment embedded in the frame.
Inside, I found a collection of small, carefully wrapped packages. My hands trembled as I unwrapped them, one by one.
The first was a delicate silver hairpin adorned with tiny pearls. The sight of it made my throat tighten; I had seen her wear it often, a gift from her own mother.
The second package contained a stack of faded letters, bound with a crimson ribbon. I didn't have time to read them now, but I tucked them into my inventory for later.
The final item was a small leather-bound book. Its cover was worn, and the edges of the pages were frayed. Flipping it open, I realized it was her journal. Her handwriting, neat and flowing, filled the pages, chronicling years of her life—her joys, her struggles, and perhaps the answers to questions I hadn't yet dared to ask.
A lump formed in my throat, but I forced myself to keep moving.
Next, I turned my attention to the jewelry box on her dresser. Inside, I found a modest collection of rings, necklaces, and bracelets—nothing extravagant, but each piece held memories. I added them to my inventory without hesitation.
Finally, I opened the wardrobe. Most of the dresses were old and worn, their colors faded by time, but one stood out—a gown of deep emerald green, trimmed with gold thread. It was the dress she had worn on her wedding day, a symbol of hope and new beginnings. I folded it carefully and placed it in my inventory.
As I took one last look around the room, my eyes fell on a small framed portrait sitting on the nightstand. It was a picture of my mother holding Eliot as a baby, her expression soft and full of love. I picked it up, running my fingers over the glass before tucking it away.
With my task complete, I turned to leave. The room felt emptier now, its treasures safely stored, but the weight of my mother's presence lingered.
"I'll make you proud," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
As I closed the door behind me, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. This was just the beginning, and I wouldn't waste the second chance I had been given.
The carriage waited near the estate's main gate, a modest but sturdy vehicle with polished wood and iron fittings. Two sleek horses were already hitched to it, their coats glistening in the early morning light. A pair of servants stood by, one adjusting the harnesses while the other loaded the last of the provisions—a small chest of preserved food, water skins, and blankets.
I stood by the carriage, scanning the estate grounds one final time. The grandeur of the manor stretched before me, its pristine gardens and towering architecture a stark contrast to the cold, bitter memories I carried of this place.
Eliot came rushing down the gravel path, a small bundle of belongings clutched tightly to his chest. His green eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nervousness, though the way he clung to the bundle betrayed his unease.
"I'm ready!" he announced, a bit out of breath as he stopped in front of me.
I knelt down, brushing a stray lock of black hair from his face. "Good. Did you pack everything important to you?"
He nodded enthusiastically, holding up his bundle. "I even brought the wooden knight you made me! Remember?"
A pang of emotion shot through me, but I smiled. "Of course I remember." I gently tousled his hair before standing.
"Eliot," I said, my tone turning serious. "Listen carefully. Once we leave, we won't be coming back. Are you okay with that?"
His expression grew somber as he looked up at me. "I... I don't like it here anyway. They're always mean to us. You're the only one who's nice to me."
I felt my chest tighten at his words, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Good," I said softly. "Stay close to me, and I'll keep you safe. I promise."
He gave a small nod, clutching his bundle tighter.
Just then, my father appeared at the top of the estate's grand staircase, flanked by a pair of servants. His expression was neutral, but his posture radiated finality.
"The carriage is ready," he said flatly. "You have everything you need."
It wasn't a question.
I gave him a curt nod. "We're leaving now."
He didn't respond, his gaze flicking briefly to Eliot before settling back on me. "Remember our agreement," he said. "Don't expect anything from this family in the future. You're on your own now."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I replied, my voice steady.
Without another word, I turned and helped Eliot into the carriage. Once he was seated, I climbed in after him, shutting the door behind us.
The driver, an older man with a grizzled beard, gave me a nod. "Where to, Miss?"
I thought for a moment, my mind racing through the possibilities. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: we needed a fresh start, far from the reach of my father and the life I had left behind.
"To the southern crossroads," I said finally. "We'll decide from there."
The driver flicked the reins, and the carriage lurched forward. Eliot pressed his face against the window, watching as the estate began to shrink in the distance.
"Do you think they'll miss us?" he asked quietly.
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Maybe," I said softly. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is that we'll be free. We can make our own path now."
He nodded, though his gaze lingered on the manor for a few moments longer before he turned back to me.
"What's our new home going to be like?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity.
I smiled, wrapping an arm around his small shoulders. "We'll make it a place where you can be happy, Eliot. I promise."
As the carriage rumbled down the road, I leaned back, letting the tension of the morning drain from my body. The path ahead was uncertain and fraught with challenges, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a glimmer of hope.
This was a new beginning—a chance to rewrite the story of our lives.