Noble Arcana

My nephew is a formal one… already prepared to take his father’s place as head of the family and do exactly what he did. His own son will likely do the same he does. The near identical nature of the first born sons of Morrow is something a man with less esoteric tastes than myself should study.

Victor Morrow’s Deciphered Journal“I, Ignatius Raphael of the Guild of Law, do formally declare that Grand Duke Uther Morrow has passed. With this statement his death is legally recognized by the great Nation of Drakthiss, founded by the thirteen and made strong by their union.” There was a pause as Guildsman Raphael gave the statement a moment to breathe. “I will now read the Grand Duke’s Will. As is law, his firstborn son Chorde will inherit ninety percent of his property. This Will shall indicate what shall happen with the remaining ten percent. If Chorde wishes to argue that others’ inheritance makes up more than ten-percent he will have the right to pursue that through the Guild of Law after the will has been read. In the case of the recently deceased however, he was a meticulous recordkeeper so mistakes are unlikely.”

Solomon kept his expression neutral as he listened. Keeping his pale gray eyes focused on Ignatius. The man was rail thin wearing a smart black suit that made him appear even thinner. His eyes were hidden behind spectacles and his speech was careful, and deliberate, as if every word bore weight. For him, it likely did. If the will of a patriarch of one of the thirteen founding families wasn’t handled carefully it could end his career. Perhaps even his life.

“The Will opens with the following statement from the deceased.”

Ignatius paused for a moment.

“I, Grand Duke Uther Morrow, have passed to the twilight garden. Do not fear for me, do not cry for me. It is now the responsibility of you, my wife and children, to continue honoring the Morrow name. Your successes belong to it, as do your failures.”

There were no declarations of love, or statements that he would be watching over them. Just the family name. Always the family name.

In spite of the blandness of the statement, Solomon’s mother sobbed silently at hearing them read. He would’ve rolled his eyes had a lifetime of often painful etiquette training not made his face utterly resistant to his internal feelings.

“To my eldest son Chorde, aside from the property which is already your right, I also grant you the Halberd of Morrow and the Armor of the Sire. They are symbols of our house as much as you are.”

Solomon glanced at Chorde who was sitting directly in front of Ignatius. He couldn’t see his face, but he imagined he had the same grim and stoic expression he always had. A perfect match to their father’s. His heavy brow furrowed over his steely eyes and framed by his light blonde hair combed back and kept orderly. He would undoubtedly forward the family name as their father had. He’d squeeze more profits from their holdings, advance a few laws in council that would solidify their power, and send more than the requisite number of citizens within their holdings to fight the savage orcs or the cunning elves. Their family’s power would grow by the requisite five percent per heir, then he would die and his son would do the same.

“To my wife Deborah, I grant you a yearly stipend of ten thousand gold draks, the western manor upon our ancestral lands, and all of your current servant staff as well as five hundred acres in the reach and serfs bound to it.”

Solomon’s mother sobbed again, his brother Jude breaking protocol to reach over and squeeze her hand. If he had done it, his mother would’ve had his hand smacked with a reed. He was used to the uneven rules though. He looked at her, a wisp of her bright red hair, a match for his own, had escaped her black widow’s cap at some point. She was a beautiful woman even in her advanced age, and had done more than the typical duty of a good woman and provided his father Uther with three healthy sons, two healthy daughters and himself. She had never even lost a child, a fact that actually led to a brief investigation from the Union for possible illegal magic. Now she was to be put out to pasture, allowed to sleep nights without his father grunting atop her and all of her responsibilities as matron passing on to Chorde’s wife.

“To my second son Jude, I give a yearly stipend of three thousand golden draks with an additional two thousand as long as he lives with his mother. If he is still with her when she passes, her stipend and inherited properties will go to him.”

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Jude didn’t move a muscle, but Solomon could feel the tenseness that hit him for a moment. He nearly smirked at his brother’s misfortune. Jude had always been their mother’s favorite. She doted on him, and he ran under her skirts whenever there was trouble. He’d been talking big about his plans for what he’d do with his inheritance. Travel, businesses, marriage, but their father had now bound him to their mother until her death. It was no less than he deserved.

“To my third son Vaughn I leave the Crimson Command, blade of our ancestor King Valance, as well as my own stallion Blackheart. I also leave a yearly stipend of three thousand golden draks as well as three hundred of my shares in the Explorer’s Guild.”

Vaughn was not there. It was not possible for him to make it back to the estate from the orcish front in time for either the public or private funerals. He’d been keen on earning his own fortune in the military. Traditionally it was the second son that entered such a profession, but Jude, while a more than capable duelist, had no appetite for conquests that didn’t involve silk bedsheets.

“To my fourth son Solomon, I leave a yearly stipend of two thousand golden draks, the estate of his great uncle Victor Morrow and the nearby town of Moonfallow as well as what servants are necessary to maintain it and one thousand five hundred additional draks per month for its re-construction and upkeep.”

Now was where things got complicated. Solomon raised his eyebrows in surprise as the rest of the family turned to look at him. It was likely the first time they’d considered his existence that entire day.

“I have not heard of the Estate of Victor Morrow and Moonfallow? I don’t recall it in the records of my father’s properties,” said Chorde.

Ignatius frowned and began leafing through the papers on the desk, nodding when he found what he was looking for. “It is a thirty acre estate with a large manor and several outbuildings and the town is much further from traditional Morrow lands than the others. Seems to have a population of roughly four thousand, though the last census was more than a decade ago. It was in the possession of your great uncle until he passed just a few years ago and has since been unoccupied.”

Chorde frowned in thought for a moment.

“Why would father give you such a property?” asked Jude, broaching the question they were all thinking.

“I don’t know,” lied Solomon. “I was only expecting the stipend, maybe a few books from his library.” In fact, before he’d altered the will, his father had left him an even smaller stipend than what was listed and a formal recommendation to the guild of his choosing. For a fourth son it wasn’t a bad lot, in fact Ignatius in front of them may have been in a similar situation to him and seemed ambitious and capable. Unfortunately, Solomon wanted land, people, and authority. He could gain that in a decade of guild work, and would have had his father not taken ill, but his death had been too good of an opportunity to pass up.

It hadn’t been a simple thing to change the Will. He first needed to identify some property that would suit his needs and be beneath Chorde’s notice. His great Uncle’s estate fit perfectly, and had seemed to be ignored, likely due to his father’s illness having begun a year prior to his uncle’s death. A happy coincidence for Solomon. He’d waited until his father was no longer of sound mind, then he located the Will itself, took the time to copy his father’s handwriting, and made his changes just before the final revision was sent to the Guild of Law. No one ever cared what he was up to anyway, so it was a simple enough thing to slip in and out of where he needed to be.

“The property should go to one of us,” said Jude pointing to himself and Chorde in an attempt to appeal to their eldest brother’s greed. “Or even Theodosia or Bernice.”

Theodosia, Jude’s twin, wasn’t there, her place as one of the princesses’s handmaids and her husband the Grand Duke Thorne meant that she wasn’t able to easily travel. Perhaps if the Union’s new rails were a success that would no longer be a problem.

Bernice simply looked at Jude with open displeasure, her gray-blue eyes and auburn hair concealed by her veil. “If father wanted Solomon to have a small estate in the middle of nowhere I see no reason why he shouldn’t have it,” she said.

Chorde nodded, surprising Solomon. “Grand Uncle Victor was very similar to Solomon. I see father’s reasoning.”

“Easy to say for one with so much already,” muttered Jude, causing their mother to press a sharp nail into the palm of his hand until he winced. He went silent after that.

Ignatius coughed. “May I continue?” he asked.

“Please,” replied Chorde.

The guildsman continued to read out their father’s will. He went over the stipends for his daughters, that the dowry for Bernice would still be accounted for once her betrothed returned from the front, as well as a number of jewels and dresses that carried with them the honor of the Morrows and their history.

Solomon kept his face neutral as he listened, keeping his smile on the inside where he wouldn’t be punished for it.