Chapter 104: The Intruder

He introduced a cook named Marta. She was plump with a warm personality. She had been feeding the remaining villagers from her own kitchen. She was thrilled to have a real household to cook for again.

Two maids. Sisters. Bess and Nella. They seemed young and equally nervous to meet the Baron and Baroness. They had never served a baron before, according to Graves. It was too easy to pick up on as they kept curtsying at odd moments.

There was a stable hand. A boy named Pip. Twelve and orphaned. He had been living in the stables. He knew horses. He knew the land. He was eager to please.

Emeric met them all in the entrance hall.

"I’m not going to pretend I know what I’m doing," he told them. "I’ve never been a baron. I’ve never run an estate. But I’m going to try. And I need your help."

Graves inclined his head. "We are at your service, my lord."

"Good." Emeric paused. "First thing. My wife. She uses a chair. She needs access to the manor. Ramps. Wider doors. Anything she needs."

Graves nodded. "I’ll see to it."

"Second thing. The village is also a priority. I need to know what they need. Food. Medicine. Work. Find out. Report back."

Graves nodded again. "Understood."

"Third thing." Emeric looked at each of them. "I’m not the previous baron. I’m not going to treat you like servants. You’re people. You work for me. But you’re not beneath me. Understood?"

Marta smiled. Bess and Nella exchanged glances. Pip grinned.

Graves simply said, "Yes, my lord."

He had done his research on the previous Baron Verity. To put it shortly, he was a piece of shit wrapped up in an even bigger ball of shit.

The people had suffered under his rule. He would take the money allocated by the crown for their wellbeing alongside the one for his daily and monthly income. He would squander everything. The people’s cries had finally gotten to the crown and they had no choice but to remove and imprison him.

That was three years ago. From then till now, they had been left without a baron or resources. It made sense that they did not trust a single thing from the crown or him.

He would have to work to earn their trust.

He sighed, envisaging the new job he had just gotten to be more trouble than he had originally bargained for.

That night, Emeric stood on the balcony of the master bedroom.

The land stretched before him. He could see the moon glistening on the water and the stars emerging overhead.

Isolde wheeled up beside him. A blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"You’re thinking," she said.

"I’m always thinking."

"What about?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"I want to make their lives better. Verity was a piece of ..."

"Garbage?" She asked, a smile hidden underneath the curve of her mouth. He could see it even in the moonlit night.

He turned to point at something in the distance.

"From what I’ve seen. The mill would be a problem." He said, his hands trying to roughly pinpoint where it was.

"It’s not turning fast enough. The wheel needs repair. The miller—if there is one—might need help." He paused. "And the fields. Some of them look fallow. The irrigation from the river could be better. There’s potential here. Real potential."

Isolde was quiet.

"You see all that?"

"I see what could be."

She reached for his hand.

"One step at a time."

He squeezed her hand.

"One step at a time."

---

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[NEW TERRITORY ACQUIRED — GREYFELL]

[STATUS: RURAL FARMING VILLAGE — POPULATION 312]

[RESOURCES: FARMLAND, RIVER, MILL, MINOR TRADE]

[POTENTIAL: HIGH]

[NEW OBJECTIVES:]

- Restore the mill

- Improve irrigation from the river

- Earn the trust of the villagers

- Investigate the fallow fields

- Discover what lies upstream

[SYSTEM NOTE: THIS IS YOUR HOME NOW. BUILD IT. YOUR INVESTMENT ALSO EXISTS HERE.]

---

Emeric read the notification and closed it. Investment existed here. Did this mean that he could gain rewards from making this place better? That would be something.

He looked out at the land.

Tomorrow, he would start.

---

The manor was quiet.

Emeric moved through the halls with a candle in one hand, his footsteps soft against the worn floorboards. The moonlight filtered through the tall windows, casting silver patterns across the stone.

He had dismissed the servants hours ago. Told them to rest. He had wanted to do this alone.

He reached for the system.

---

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[STRUCTURAL ASSESSMENT — GREYFELL MANOR]

[TOTAL ROOMS: 47]

[OCCUPIED: 12]

[ABANDONED: 35]

[WEST WING: CLOSED — STRUCTURAL DAMAGE]

[EAST WING: PARTIALLY RENOVATED — GUEST QUARTERS]

[NORTH WING: MASTER SUITE, PRIVATE CHAMBERS]

[SOUTH WING: SERVANTS’ QUARTERS, KITCHENS, STORAGE]

[MAIN HALL: OPEN — NEEDS REPAIR]

[GREAT ROOM: OPEN — DUSTY, UNUSED]

[LIBRARY: CLOSED — WATER DAMAGE]

[DINING HALL: OPEN — FUNCTIONAL]

[BALLROOM: CLOSED — ABANDONED]

[BASEMENT: SEALED — UNKNOWN CONTENTS]

---

He moved through the great room first.

It was vast. High ceilings. Chandeliers thick with dust. Tapestries faded to grey. A long table that could seat thirty. Fireplaces at each end, cold and empty.

He ran his fingers along the table. The wood was old. Good quality. It could be restored.

He went to the library next.

The door creaked open. The smell of damp and rot hit him. Water stains on the ceiling. Shelves warped. Books ruined.

It was a shame. He loved books and this was a nightmare, what the previous baron had allowed happen to this place.

He would fix it. In time.

Then the dining hall. It was functional, clean with a long table. Chairs that didn’t wobble. A hearth that worked. Marta had done her best.

He made his way to the ballroom.

The doors were heavy. He pushed them open. The room beyond was massive. Mirrors lined the walls—cracked, tarnished. A floor of polished marble, dulled by years of neglect. A chandelier that had fallen and shattered years ago, its crystals still scattered across the floor.

This was supposed to be for hosting balls. Guess they were not hosting anything anytime soon, he said half to himself, shrugging.