"Thank you, Mister Marick Valackar," the goblin says, packing his paperwork into a case, then walks off into the woods with some guards that appeared hiding behind some shrubs.
You begin your first step on the gravel path to Redhall, an old manor re-purposed and refurbished when the Union Army drove back the lizardmen that hid in the swamps. It took five years for the army to clear out enough dens and smashed enough eggs to declare the swampland safe enough for colonization. Redhall was purchased by your great-grandfather, Varick Valackar. Your three older siblings left before you were born; you were born quite late, and they all had grown up. You barely know them, aside from their names, and they occasionally sent toys and books back to you at Redhall.
When you reached the age of sixteen, you decided the smelly bogs and the swamp leeches wasn't the life for you, so you left off to learn in an academy further into United lands, learning in the ways of mercantilism and politics. Now, at the age of twenty-eight, you return with four pieces of gold, a handful of powerful contacts in almost every aspect of mundane life, and ambition to win Redhall. You might be the youngest, but by damn do you deserve Redhall.
Redhall itself stands at three-stories tall and twice as wide. To repel the eventual rotting of wood, the entirety of Redhall is brick, giving it the name and look of Redhall. Two pillars support an arch before the double-doors at the entrance of the house. Both are made of a brilliant red wood, trimmed with gold. Moss and vines seem to have grown in the nooks and crannies of the manor, and many windows have the curtains closed behind them. There is a servants' quarters nearby, a five minute walk from the front door if you're walking leisurely. The quarters are also made of stone, but not red brick. It is only a story tall, but it's nearly as wide as Redhall, consisting of ten bedrooms large enough for a family of four, and a mess-hall for the servants.
Next to the servants' quarters are the stables and pens. The stables currently have three horses. The pens hold four sheep and a ram, a dozen hens and couple of roosters, three dairy cows and a bull. Outside are the fields, nearly an acre in size, divided into fours and each growing cash crops. Thankfully Redhall and its surroundings are on the highlands in the area (named Redmarsh, for the long war needed to claim it) and allows it to grow crops and rear animals without worrying about the marshes.
Unfortunately, the town in Redmarsh is a measly one, containing about only five hundred or so settlers. The next city closest, Vanar's Rest, is about a week away by carriage. A caravan comes every three months, buying any trade goods and selling necessities and commodities such as lumber, tools and labor. Vanar's Rest is mostly an elven city, named after the elven adventurer Vanar, who died leading a thousand elves to build their city there. You're sure you have some contacts there, or at least contacts of contacts.
Inside Redhall, a swampfolk servant greets you and bids you come to your mother's study. Climbing the turning stairs, you reach the study on the third floor. Your mother is sitting by the fireplace, waiting patiently, and a multitude of servants await behind her. She gives a small smile and offers you a seat.
"Welcome home, Marick. You're the first one here," she says, gazing longingly into the fire. She's still wearing mourning clothes. "Your father didn't finish his will in time, no thanks to that lousy goblin lawyer! I'm sure you met him outside. Anyways, he hasn't named a successor and an owner for Redhall and his lands."
"Why don't you take it, mother?"
Your mother laughs. "I'm old. Too old. I should be with your father, Marick. When I'm through with this business in finding an heir, I'm off to Vanar's Rest. I hear it's so peaceful in elven retreats. Walking through the woods. Listening to birds." She sighs. "Now, on to business. I'm to select an heir. We're not following that ridiculous archaic practice that eldest gets it all, so even you've got a fair shot. The neighboring nobles won't take too kindly, though. Some are more old fashioned than others. You'll have to find out who.
"Firstly, you have to prove to me that you can run and manage Redhall. A manor like this has upkeep. A lot of upkeep, Marick. Show me how you can get enough and keep enough to stay afloat. Next, you need to make friends; with the nobles, with the officials, even with some of your siblings. They might be rivals but they're also family. There's a lot of paperwork and bureaucracy in this, so a flash of a little gold could help in your favor, but your brothers and sister might be thinking the same thing.
"Your father and I loved all of you equally, Marick, but that doesn't mean all of you have equal capability to run Redhall. Tarick is a rich mogul, but he's hotheaded and vain. Barick is a military man all the way. He plans on fortifying Redhall and turning it into a forward base, and I hear he's friends with the general stationed here. You heard Ericka just got out of another criminal sentence? That girl's in with the wrong people. Thankfully, she's never been convicted thanks to those criminal friends of hers, but one day she'll slip, and I hope she stops before then."
She waves the servants forward and the four of them come forth. One is an elderly orc wearing mud-stained clothes and boots. The next one is the swampfolk you saw before, half your height and in the visage of a frog. After him is an elven girl. The last one is a lanky, bespectacled goblin.
"You remember Mud, right? He's been here the longest. He's in charge of the fields, the farmhands and the livestock. The swampfolk here is Croaksworth, of um, err, uh, highborn descent. He's the overseer for the servants and their families. Lynnae is from Vanar's Rest. She may not look like it, but she's the builder and maintenance around here. And Lyn is also my handmaiden. Now, this goblin is Mr. William Killblade, our financial advisor and treasurer, as well as our new lawyer as of now. Mr. Killblade, you may tell our old lawyer he's no longer needed.
"It's a lot to take in, Marick. You need time. You've got plenty since you got here first. Take a rest. But you'll need to start soon, best before your siblings get here."
Author
Topic: (TSG) Lord of the Manor (Read 1656 times)