Chapter 92: The Study
The fifth day broke cold and crisp, unveiling a changed landscape. The road beneath them was smoother, better maintained, and the scenery shifted from the sprawling imperial heartlands to a wilder, more untamed territory.
The hills stretched out, forests grew older and denser. Stone fences, some ancient and weathered by time, traced the path, their edges softened by centuries of wind and rain. The morning sun’s rays slanted across the fields, transforming frost into shimmering gold.
They had arrived in Arkania. Dominic felt it deep within, not through any physical border marker, but through something more subtle, a presence in the air, a land that seemed to recognize him.
Or perhaps it was just his imagination.
Wobbly pressed itself against the carriage window, its violet body flattened into a wide, wobbling pancake. A string of excited burbles escaped it every time a sheep came into view, and Dominic had already had to stop it twice from trying to squeeze through the gap in the glass for a closer look.
"Not the sheep," he murmured, hooking a finger under its middle and tugging it back onto his lap. "These people already have enough to worry about."
Wobbly sulked. A small dark pulse rippled through it, then faded into a sheepish pink.
Florence leaned out the window, her eyes taking in the sweeping countryside. "This is good land," she said softly. "Rich soil, healthy grazing, a decent road." She pulled back, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You might actually have inherited something truly worth having."
"Thanks for the enthusiastic endorsement."
"I mean it," she replied earnestly. "I’ve seen poor territories, lands that drain their people and bleed them dry. This isn’t one of those. Still quite poor, but this is... sustainable." Settling back in her seat, she added, "Your father chose well."
Dominic remained silent, gazing at the fields rushing past, contemplating what his father must have seen when he looked upon these very hills.
The villages appeared closer together now, their residents already up and at work. Farmers paused in the fields to watch the convoy pass, hands shading their eyes. At the edge of one village, a blacksmith froze mid-swing, hammer suspended above the anvil. Children raced alongside the carriages, their laughter ringing through the morning.
A few people waved. Others bowed. Most simply watched, their faces caught between hope and uncertainty.
Lysandra sat beside him, hands folded in her lap. "They’re waiting to see what kind of lord you’ll be."
"That’s the best case scenario. They could still have grievances for what happened to them because of my family."
"You don’t know that," Theresa said. "Besides, look at them. They don’t look much like an angry mob. Scared, maybe, but not angry."
Dominic looked out at the people lining the road. They had picked themselves up and survived, and the laughter of the playing children made him smile, stirring something that felt dangerously close to hope.
"Are you ready for that?" Lysandra asked.
He glanced at her. "No... Not at all. But I’ll learn."
She smiled, just slightly. "That’s probably the right attitude to have."
The convoy rolled on.
By mid-afternoon, the estate came into view.
It sat on a low rise above a winding river, surrounded by terraced fields and old orchards. The house was constructed from pale stone and dark timber, with high windows that caught the sun and a courtyard wide enough to host a tournament. The Emperor’s workers had restored the outer walls and repaired the roof. Scaffolding still hugged one wing, but the bones were strong.
Kane banners flew from the gate.
Black and gold, rippling in the wind.
Florence let out a low whistle. "Now that’s a house."
Dominic didn’t speak. He was too busy looking.
This was where he’d been born. Where his parents had lived. Where his father had read by the fire and his mother had worked in the garden. He had been a child when he last stood on this ground, small enough that the gates had seemed like the edge of the world. Now they were just gates. Old, sturdy, and waiting.
The carriage rolled through them and came to a stop in the courtyard.
The staff was waiting.
Two dozen people in black and gold, arranged in careful rows. Servants, groundskeepers, stable hands, a small armed guard. At their head stood a grey-haired man in a dark coat, his posture straight, his expression calm. He bowed as the carriage door opened.
"Lord Kane. I am Aldous, steward of Arkania. The Emperor sent me ahead to prepare the estate for your arrival."
Dominic stepped down, the others following behind him. The courtyard smelled of fresh stone and turned earth. Somewhere nearby, a horse nickered. The wind pulled at the banners overhead.
Aldous straightened, his eyes moving over the group with quiet assessment. "The house is ready to receive you. Staff is in place. Supplies are stocked. I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a meal for this evening, if it pleases you."
Dominic nodded. "It does. Thank you."
Aldous inclined his head. "I’ll have the servants see to your luggage. If you’d like, I can give you a tour of the grounds before dinner."
"Briefly," Dominic said. "Then I’d like to see my father’s study."
Something flickered in the steward’s eyes: surprise, perhaps, or approval. "As you wish, my lord. The study has been preserved. I thought you might want to see it yourself before any changes are made."
"Good."
The tour was quick but thorough.
Aldous led them through the main hall, the great room, the kitchens, the staff quarters. He pointed out the sections that had been restored and the ones still under repair. The house was livable, but it needed work: walls that needed replastering, windows that needed reglazing, floors that needed sanding. It would take months to make it whole, but the foundation was solid.
In the great room, Dominic stopped in front of a long wall of pale stone. Dozens of rectangles stood out against it, lighter than the rest, clean outlines where frames had once hung and the sun had never reached.
"The portraits," Aldous said, following his gaze. "Taken with everything else."
Dominic nodded slowly. Somewhere out there, his family’s faces were hanging in a stranger’s hall. He filed the thought away, carefully, the way he did with everything that mattered.
Florence broke off to inspect the stables, declaring that her horse deserved better than the imperial waystation’s accommodation. Lysandra drifted toward the garden, where the remains of an old hedge maze had been partially cleared. Theresa lingered in the library, her fingers trailing over the shelves.
Dominic followed Aldous to the study.
It was a modest room on the second floor, overlooking a river. A heavy desk sat near the window. Bookshelves lined the walls, most of them empty now. The floor was worn smooth, the way old floors were.
"The books were taken when the family fell," Aldous said quietly. "Some were destroyed. Others were absorbed into private collections. A few have been recovered, but most are lost."
Dominic moved to the desk. It was old, scarred, but solid. He ran his hand over the surface.
"My father sat here," he said.
"He did." Aldous didn’t move from the doorway. "Every morning, when the family was in residence. He was an early riser."
Dominic’s chest tightened. "What was he like? At the end?"
Aldous was quiet for a long moment. "Tired," he said finally. "But not broken. He believed things would improve. He believed the truth would come out." A pause. "He was wrong about many things. But not about you."
Dominic didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at the empty desk.
The window was open, and the sound of the river drifted up from below.
It sounded like home.
Aldous cleared his throat softly. "I’ll leave you to it, my lord. Dinner is at seven."
"Thank you, Aldous."
The door closed with barely a sound, and the room settled into silence.
Dominic lowered himself into the chair behind the desk. The wood creaked under him, and he wondered if it was the same creak his father had heard every morning. He rested his palms on the worn surface and let his gaze drift to the window, where the river caught the afternoon light and carried it away downstream.
𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢
In his pocket, his father’s ring pressed against his leg, small and heavy and patient. It had opened nothing yet. Soon it would. He didn’t need to take it out to know it was there.
A duke’s title. A restored name. A house full of people waiting on his word.
Eight years ago, he would have traded all of it for a bag under his bed and a voice telling him not to look back.
"The name is restored. The house is standing. All that’s left now is to find my sister and get her back, wherever she may be." His fingers curled against the old wood. "I just hope I’m not too late."
Fate can be a cruel mistress. But even in the most despairing of situations, maybe, just maybe, things will turn out fine in the end.
Maybe not.
Dominic rose and crossed to the window. He rested a hand on the sill and looked out over the terraced fields, the orchards, and the river winding through the land his family had once called home. For a long moment he just stood there, letting it all sink in.
The tedious work could wait a little longer.