Nestled in the southwestern plains of Rowling, where a tributary of the Rowling River meanders through fertile lands, stands the ancestral manor of the illustrious Rowling family. Surrounding it are a patchwork of farms and nearby bustling towns. Following the tributary leads one through a picturesque valley, marking the cradle of this noble lineage.
Centuries ago, when the Rowlands were but minor nobility governing a small village, their bloodline took root on this very soil. Over time, the modest settlement evolved, and the original manor, through countless renovations and reconstructions, grew into a grand estate worthy of the family's stature.
The carriage journey passed through a shadowy forest, where lush greenery thrived, and the air brimmed with freshness. A well-trodden path revealed glimpses of a serene valley on one side, while on the other, a tall tower loomed in the distance — the ancestral seat of the Rowland family.
Encircled by crimson stone walls, the castle stood, its structure hewn from the brilliant white stone quarried from the nearby valley — a site that had once been a hill, now reduced by centuries of labor.
The arrival of the family patriarch's eldest son stirred great anticipation. Three hundred soldiers from the estate's private army had donned their finest regalia, assembling under the imposing red walls to await him. The arching gates exuded grandeur, and to Du Wei, seated in the carriage, the robust stone walls seemed formidable enough to repel any siege.
True to their legacy as a martial house of the empire, the soldiers stationed at the castle displayed impeccable training. They sat atop their mounts with perfect poise, expertly controlling their steeds, their gear well-maintained and battle-ready. As Du Wei later learned, these soldiers were handpicked from across the Rowland plains, a testament to their elite standing. Their rigorous training rivaled that of the empire's regular army.
Outside the castle, the surrounding forest served as a natural hunting ground, hosting annual hunts that doubled as training exercises for the soldiers.
The castle's architecture was dominated by two towers, one of which soared higher than the surrounding hills. Du Wei, having studied the family's history, recalled the peculiar patriarch who had constructed the taller tower for his astrologer wife. Despite being a military man, he harbored an avid interest in stargazing, leading to this unique architectural marvel.
A red carpet unfurled from the castle gates to Du Wei's carriage stop. As he stepped out, a silver-haired elder in a meticulously tailored gray suit approached. Tall and lean, his demeanor was austere and his movements measured, exuding an air of solemn dignity.
"Master," the butler bowed deeply, his voice resonating with respect. "I am Hill Rowling, steward of this castle. Three days ago, I received news of your impending arrival. Everything within the estate is prepared for your inspection. Please, follow me."
Hill's etiquette was flawless, guiding Du Wei with reverence up the steps. The butler carefully avoided the carpeted path, leaving Du Wei to bask in his solitary grandeur.
Inside the castle, the first striking sight was a colossal banner spanning the height of the entrance hall. Seven meters tall and six meters wide, it bore the family crest: two crossed swords entwined with iris flowers, crowned by flames and a regal crown. The sheer scale of the banner imbued the hall with an aura of solemnity.
Uniformed servants lined the sides of the hall to greet their young master. Du Wei, however, showed little interest in such rituals, dismissing them with a wave. "Butler, take me to the study. The rest may return to their duties."
The study was nothing short of a library. Circular in shape, its domed ceiling adorned with ornate plasterwork, the room was lined with statues of past family luminaries and towering bookshelves that spanned two stories. Rows upon rows of books filled these shelves, their numbers stretching into the tens of thousands.
Yet, even amidst this scholarly environment, the family's martial spirit was palpable. Opposite the entrance, an imposing wall bore two massive crossed weapons — a two-handed sword and a giant axe — their polished blades gleaming coldly. Adjacent cabinets displayed antique weapons, relics of bygone eras meticulously preserved.
"These were wielded by our most distinguished ancestors," Hill explained, his steady voice echoing in the room's acoustics.
Du Wei observed the aged furnishings, their surfaces polished smooth by generations of use. He traced his fingers along an ancient rosewood desk, its venerable age apparent.
"This study once served as the nerve center of the family's power," Hill murmured. "Here, decisions shaping the Rowland legacy were forged. Although the family's center has shifted to the imperial capital, tradition dictates that every returning patriarch must spend their first night in this room, a solemn reminder of our storied history."
Acknowledging this tradition, Du Wei nodded with a faint smile. "As my father's representative, I shall honor this custom and spend the night here."
Hill's rigid countenance softened, and he bowed deeply. "I shall make the necessary arrangements."
The old butler's expression softened considerably, his tone now tinged with warmth as he spoke slowly: "Yes, I'll have everything prepared. Also... I understand you're here on behalf of the Count to inspect the family's estates. May I ask where you intend to begin? After receiving news of your arrival, I've already organized the ledgers and accounts for this year's revenues and expenditures. When would you like to review them? Or should we wait…"
Du Wei interrupted him with a smile. Moving naturally and with ease, he circled the table and took a seat behind the imposing desk. The chair was somewhat firm, yet surprisingly comfortable. After a moment of thought, Du Wei smiled again and said, "My dear butler, I've traveled a long way to get here, and I must admit I'm feeling rather hungry. Please have some food prepared for me first. After that, I think I'll be ready to go through what you've prepared."
The efficiency here seemed quite commendable.
Before long, Du Wei was enjoying a quintessential southern aristocratic afternoon tea in the study. After finishing a sweet pumpkin pie and wiping his mouth, the old butler, Hill, entered the study again, this time directing two robust footmen who brought in a cart laden with an enormous stack of thick account books.
The pile was daunting, standing nearly half a head taller than Du Wei himself.
"All of these are the accounts for this year?" Du Wei frowned, beginning to suspect that the butler might be trying to overwhelm him on purpose.
"Yes, young master, these are all of them," Hill replied earnestly. "This includes data for the entire Southern Cote Province: the measured areas of family-owned lands, cultivated fields, the fiscal incomes and expenditures of six towns, the logistics and provisions for the family's private military stationed in three separate locations, salaries, supplies, weapon consumption, as well as this year's harvest and construction budgets. Additionally, I've drafted some preliminary budgets for next year, though they're incomplete due to time constraints. However, I imagine you won't be leaving soon, so we'll have ample time."
Du Wei scratched his nose, eyeing the mountainous accounts before him. "...All of it?"
"This is just a portion," the butler said, his tone unusually casual for once. "The rest would take you at least a week to go through."
Du Wei's brow furrowed as he quietly scrutinized the butler standing before him.
The old man didn't appear to be joking. But surely, he wasn't naïve enough to think a thirteen-year-old could thoroughly understand these accounts, let alone shoulder the responsibility of managing the family's vast estates?
If he wasn't that foolish, then this must be deliberate. The family head had sent him back to the estate as a form of disguised exile, so why was this old man piling up all these accounts and insisting he review them? Was it a show of dissatisfaction, a subtle challenge to his authority?
Could it be that the butler feared losing his power upon Du Wei's return and sought to intimidate him? Or was there something hidden within these accounts, something that would benefit from the ignorance of a young master?
Anything seemed possible.
Yet Du Wei said nothing. He didn't even question the butler. Instead, he casually picked up the topmost account book, blew off the dust, and calmly sat down to peruse it.
After some time, Du Wei lifted his head. The butler still stood nearby.
"Oh, my dear butler, do you have something else to say?" Du Wei's tone turned cold, seemingly by accident. "When I read, I prefer not to have anyone nearby."
"As you wish, young master," Hill replied, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak but thought better of it. With a slight bow, he turned and left with the footmen.
Once the heavy doors to the study had closed, Du Wei gently set the account book aside. He stood and paced the vast study, stretching his legs before murmuring to himself with a faint smile, "It seems there might be something interesting to uncover here after all."
As night fell, the old butler returned twice more. Once, to serve tea, and the other time to personally light the room's twenty grand candelabras as darkness enveloped the study.
What surprised Hill was that the young master was genuinely reading the accounts. Not pretending, but truly engrossed. Several account books lay open on the desk, their pages filled with calculations. When Hill brought the candles, Du Wei even asked a few precise questions about the accounts—sharp, pointed inquiries that left no doubt he was taking this seriously.
This... This was the same so-called "foolish" eldest son dismissed by the family in the capital?
Though he tried to hide it, Hill's astonishment didn't escape Du Wei's sharp eyes. Yet Du Wei said nothing, merely watched the butler leave. Once alone, he slowly closed the book he'd been reading.
In truth, he hadn't focused on verifying the accuracy of the numbers. Such tasks were beyond someone unfamiliar with the intricacies of estate management. But for Du Wei, these account books were far more than dull records—they were treasures of insight.
Accounts weren't just about numbers. They were narratives, revealing truths hidden between the lines.
Through the accounts, Du Wei gleaned a comprehensive understanding of the Rollin family's dominion. The estate operated as an independent entity, with its own financial, political, and military systems. The family controlled tax collection, local appointments, and even military provisions.
This revelation startled Du Wei. The Rollin family's autonomy essentially rendered the imperial government powerless over this territory. The province resembled an independent kingdom more than a mere estate.
Deep in thought, Du Wei leaned back on the sofa, his mind abuzz with the implications. When a central authority began losing control over its territories, it often heralded the prelude to significant upheaval.
The room fell silent, save for the occasional crackle of candle flames. Then, without warning, Du Wei stood abruptly and turned towards the wall behind him.
The wall bore a massive bookshelf filled with countless volumes, unremarkable at first glance. Yet Du Wei's heightened senses tingled with unease—a faint, elusive feeling of being watched.
His gaze traveled upward to a row of oil portraits. These depicted the Rollin family's patriarchs, their ages and styles varying by era. The earliest portrait, weathered by time, depicted a man in military uniform—his gaze sharp and commanding. It was none other than the legendary Marshal Rollin, the family's founder.
Du Wei studied the portrait, noting its resemblance to his father. That piercing gaze seemed to bore into him, alive with scrutiny.
Smiling faintly, Du Wei stepped back, then moved sideways, observing the painting's eyes following him. After a moment, he chuckled and muttered, "Perhaps I'm overthinking it… just a painting."
He turned back to his accounts, yet the painting behind him stirred. The painted eyes blinked.
Yes, the eyes of the portrait moved—lively, curious, and unmistakably aware.
But just as suddenly, Du Wei turned again, his sharp gaze locking onto the painting. He held up a silver spoon, its polished surface gleaming like a mirror.
"You don't need to pretend. I know you're watching," he said evenly, his voice calm but firm. "It's quite impolite to spy from the shadows, don't you think?"
"…"