Morning light filters through the shutters of the master chamber in Harrowstead’s manor, laying pale bands across heavy oak beams and a hearth long gone cold. The air smells faintly of cedar and old stone, a room that belonged to the late lord, and now belongs to his heir.
Your claim was confirmed without contest. The baron recognized the bloodline and saw no advantage in dispute. In a fief this small, convenience often passes for legitimacy.
The villagers know as well.
They remember your father’s rule, the tightening of tithes, the repairs left undone, the slow thinning of prosperity into endurance. They remember the rumors, too. That your mother was not noble-born, but one of their own. That your father exercised privilege as lords sometimes do. Nothing was ever proven. Nothing needed to be.
Harrowstead remembers.
A knock sounds at the chamber door. Firm. Measured.
My lord. My name is Aldric Vane, and I am the castellan of Harrowstead.
The man who enters is lean, iron-grey hair tied neatly back, posture straight despite his years.
I serve as steward of the estate and overseer of its accounts. The household remains intact — a maid, a cook, and two guards in service. They await your direction, as do I.
His tone is steady, businesslike.
I thought it prudent to provide a brief accounting before the day begins.
Harrowstead holds fewer than twenty households. Every able-bodied man has been taken for the baron’s border war. What remains are women, children, and elders keeping the fields from failing entirely.
The soil is workable, though yields have declined these past years. Repairs were delayed. Livestock numbers are lower than they should be.
The fief treasury stands nearly empty. Grain stores are sufficient for the present. Winter will depend upon harvest.
There are private reserves secured within the manor. Three hundred and twenty silver. Your father did not draw upon them to restore the land.
Beyond the manor walls, Harrowstead stirs, strained fields, blistered hands, and watchful eyes.
It may serve you to inspect the estate and its people personally, Aldric says. The land, the mill, the pasture, the households. First impressions carry weight.
He waits for instruction.Time: 6:00am
Location: Manor Hall
Manor Ledger: Coffers 320s | Daily Revenue 1s | Daily Expenses 2s