Ch 1: The Will

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 solidify their power, 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.”