Chapter 109: The Lady of Greyfell

Gaius stared at him but he did not look pleased.

Then he nodded. Just once.

"Fine."

He walked away.

That evening.

Emeric sat in the study.

The chest sat on the desk. Open. Gold gleamed inside.

He pulled out the ledger, writing something. He closed the ledger and the system pulsed.

---

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[FUNDS RECEIVED — CROWN ALLOCATION]

[TOTAL: 115,000 GOLD]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — HOUSEHOLD: 100,000]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — REPAIRS: 10,000]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — KNIGHTS: 5,000]

[SYSTEM NOTE: MORE WILL BE NEEDED. THE ESTATE IS LARGE. THE WILL BE EXPENSIVE. PLAN ACCORDINGLY.]

---

Emeric closed the notification.

He knew. He has always known that it would be very expensive but he had not accounted for running a household.

Was it always this hard?

He massaged his temples, trying to reduce the headache that was starting to creep in.

That night.

Isolde was in bed, a book in her hands. She looked up when he entered.

"You seem tired."

"I really am."

"How’re the knights settling in?"

"The commander doesn’t like me."

She smiled. "I’m sure he’ll come around."

"I’m not sure he will."

"Then it doesn’t matter." She set her book down. "You don’t need him to like you. You need him to do his job."

Emeric sat on the bed and pulled off his boots.

"You’re right."

"I usually am."

He laughed, as he continued undressing himself.

She reached for his hand.

"Come to bed."

He did.

---

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the east parlor.

Isolde sat in her chair, a ledger open in her lap. The pages were yellowed. The ink was faded. The handwriting was cramped and difficult to read.

Inventory of Greyfell Estate. Year 847 MD.

She had found it in the library. One of the few books that hadn’t been ruined by water damage. It listed everything. Furniture. Linens. Silverware. Tapestries. Paintings. The previous baron’s possessions. His family’s possessions.

Most of it was gone now.

She turned the page.

Master Bedroom: One four-poster bed. Two nightstands. One wardrobe. One vanity.

She looked up. The bedroom had all of that. Old and worn but it would do.

Guest Quarters had six beds. Six wardrobes. Six nightstands.

The east wing had three. The others were missing. Stolen, maybe. Or sold.

Dining Hall: One long table. Twenty chairs. Two chandeliers.

The table was there. The chairs were there. The chandeliers were gone.

The Great Hall had two chandeliers. Twelve tapestries. Four suits of armor.

The chandeliers were gone. The tapestries were faded. The armor was rusted.

She closed the ledger. This did not matter. One way or the other, they would need to take

"Bess."

The maid appeared in the doorway and curtsied.

"My lady?"

"Bring Nella, a broom and a bucket. We’re going to clean my husband’s study room."

Bess blinked. "The study, my lady?"

"Yes. It’s a disaster. Dust everywhere. Cobwebs. The windows haven’t been opened in years."

Bess hesitated. "Should I fetch Graves? Or Pip? They can—"

"I didn’t ask for Graves. I didn’t ask for Pip. I asked for you and your sister. Now."

Bess curtsied. Hurried away.

Isolde wheeled herself toward the study room.

The study room was small.

A sitting room, really. It was faxing east. Windows along one wall. A fireplace. A few chairs. A small table. A writing desk.

It was covered in dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. The windows were filmed with grime.

Isolde stopped in the doorway.

This will not do at all.

Bess and Nella arrived shortly with brooms, buckets and rags.

Isolde understood that they were not expecting a new baron this soon but so far, the only thing they had cleaned was the bedroom.

"Start with the windows," Isolde said. "Then the floor. Then the furniture. I want this room to be clean by supper."

"Yes, my lady."

They worked.

Isolde directed the work.

"The corner. There. No, the other corner. Behind the chair."

"Wring the rag out more. It’s dripping."

"Open the windows wider. Let the air in."

The maids worked, nervously at first. Then more confident. They weren’t used to being directed by a noble. But they were learning.

Isolde watched them.

They’re good. They want to please. They just need direction. She thought, her eyes trained on the maids.

Two hours had passed.

The windows gleamed, the floor was clean. The furniture was dusted and she was impressed.

The work was a lot for them but they had gotten it done.

Her mind trailed as she imagined the other places that needed cleaning.

They would need more help around if they were to get any real work done. She would speak to Emeric about the need.

She knew he was dealing with a lot right now so she would try to take off as much as she could off his plate.

Isolde looked around. The room was transformed. It was still old. Still worn. But it was clean. It was bright, the window pouring in a healthy dash of sunlight. Now this was a room someone could sit in.

"Good," she said. "Now the curtains. They need washing."

Bess stared. "My lady?"

"They’re covered in dust. Take them down. Wash them. Hang them back up before they dry."

"But—"

"Now."

Bess and Nella exchanged glances. Then they obeyed. Isolde wheeled to the writing desk.

She ran her fingers over the wood. It was old, scratched but it looked solid.

She opened the drawer.

Inside—a pen. A dried inkwell. A small book. She picked it up.

Poems. By Lady Elara Greyfell.

The previous baron’s wife.

Isolde opened the book.

"The sea calls to me. The wind whispers my name. But I am bound to this land. To this house. To this life I did not choose."

She read on.

"I dream of flying. Of breaking free. Of something more."

The poems were sad, filled with a sort of longing that Isolde was all too familiar with or had been. Isolde read them all.

When she finished, she closed the book. Held it to her chest.

I know how you felt.