Chapter 129: The Rowan Family Regrets

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

Graves appeared. His expression was carefully neutral. But there was something in his eyes. Something sharp.

"My lord. The Guild representatives are here."

Emeric set his pen down, maintaining his poise.

"Show them in."

Graves stepped aside.

Two men entered.

These were different men. They were younger than the greedy bastards who had shown their faces twice now.

Their faces were blank and they wore plain clothes, unlike the lavish clothes worn by Rufus and Vell. Behind them were three sets of hands, carrying heavy chests between them. The wood was dark. The iron bands were thick. It looked like it weighed as much as a horse.

They set them on the floor. The thud echoed through the study. Dust rose from the floorboards.

They bowed.

"Baron Halden. The Guild sends its regards. The loan has been processed. One million gold. As agreed."

Emeric looked at the chest. Then at them.

"Open it."

They opened three of the chests.

It was filled with gold, gleaming from the top, stacked all the way to the bottom from the looks of it. More gold than Emeric had ever seen in his life. More gold than he had ever imagined. It filled the chest to the brim. From coins to bars and nuggets. All of it gleaming in the morning light.

He stood. Crossed to the chest. Ran his fingers over the coins. They were cold and heavy.

This was one million gold with no interest.

He turned to the men.

"Tell Master Vell I appreciate his cooperation."

"We will, my lord."

"And tell him this—our business is concluded. If he tries anything—anything at all—I will not be as forgiving next time."

The men exchanged glances. Nodded.

"We will deliver the message."

They bowed again. Left.

Graves stepped forward and looked at the chest. His eyes were wide.

"My lord. This is... this is incredible."

"It’s a start."

"A start? My lord, this is enough to rebuild the entire estate. Everything. We can live comfortably on this for two years."

"It’s enough to start. But it won’t last forever. We need to be smart. Invest. Grow. Make this estate self-sufficient."

Graves nodded slowly.

"Understood, my lord."

Emeric closed the chest he had opened and locked it.

"Have these moved to the vault. And bring me the financials. We need to plan."

"Yes, my lord."

Graves called for two servants. They carried the chests away. It took them four trips to be done and two of them to lift one of the chests. They grunted, staggered but they managed.

Emeric returned to his desk.

---

That afternoon.

Bjorn found him in the study.

The dwarf was covered in dust. His hands were dirty. His face was streaked with grime.

"The repairs are coming along."

Emeric gestured to the chair. "Sit. Tell me."

Bjorn sat. Pulled out a parchment. Unrolled it. It was covered in sketches. Notes. Measurements.

"The village is almost done. Forty-seven houses rebuilt. Twenty-three repaired. The well is clean. The temple has its roof. The market is back."

He pointed at the parchment.

"The estate is slower. The west wing is still sealed. The structural damage is worse than we thought. The beams are rotted. The walls are cracked. We’ll need to replace most of the interior. But we’re making progress. The library is done. The ballroom is next. The basement... we’re still working on the ward."

Emeric nodded.

"The craftsmen?"

"Working hard. More arrived from the capital last week. We have fifty now. Dwarves. Elves. Humans. All good at what they do."

"Good."

Bjorn rolled up the parchment. Stood.

"We’ll have the village finished by the end of the week. The estate by the end of the month. Maybe sooner."

"Thank you, Bjorn."

The dwarf grunted and walked to the door. Paused.

Just how much could he afford to allocate to these repairs

He reached for the system.

---

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[FUNDS RECEIVED — MERCHANT GUILD LOAN]

[TOTAL: 1,000,000 GOLD]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — REPAIRS: 200,000]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — FARMING: 100,000]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — KNIGHTS: 50,000]

[FUNDS ALLOCATED — RESERVE: 650,000]

[SYSTEM NOTE: THE ESTATE IS STABLE. THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN. PREPARE FOR WHAT COMES.]

---

Emeric closed the notification.

Prepare for what comes?

He looked out the window. The sun was setting. The sky was red.

What did it mean by that?

The warning left a bitter taste in his mouth but he wasn’t about to ignore a clear cut message like that.

He would be ready.

The next morning.

A carriage arrived at the gates of Greyfell Estate.

Emeric was in the courtyard. Inspecting the repairs. The eastern wall was almost done. The stones were fresh, the mortar was dry. The craftsmen were already moving to the next section.

He heard it first. The creak of wheels. The clatter of hooves. The murmur of voices.

He turned.

The carriage was fine. Polished wood. Gold trim. Banners flying from the corners. The crest of House Rowan.

His blood ran cold. Isolde’s family.

The carriage stopped. The door opened.

Lord Rowan stepped out first. Tall. Grey. Cold. His eyes swept over the estate. The walls. The towers. The ivy. His expression was unreadable.

Then Lady Marisse. Sharp cheekbones. Piercing eyes. Dressed in fine silk. She looked at the estate like it was a curiosity. Something beneath her.

And behind them—Isolde’s brother. The young man who had stood silent while his sister was disowned, Freidrick. He looked uncomfortable and out of place.

They walked toward him.

Emeric didn’t move.

Lord Rowan stopped a few feet away, looked at him.

"Baron Halden."

"Lord Rowan."

"We’ve come to see our daughter."

Emeric met his gaze.

"She’s not your daughter. You disowned her. Remember?"

Lord Rowan’s jaw tightened.

"Circumstances have changed."

"Have they?"

"You’re a baron now. She’s a baroness. The family has... reconsidered."

Emeric said nothing.

Lady Marisse stepped forward. Her smile was thin. Cold.

"We only want what’s best for her. Surely you can understand that."

Emeric looked at her.

"I understand perfectly."