Mr. Junior was standing in his office at 8:03 am. He looked out of the window to see a small chariot riding up the slope leading to the beginning of a draw bridge, which was manually controlled. A deep moat had been dugout around the large mansion, but it had no water, leading to a deep trench. There was only one drawbridge that faced the front of the house, designed by his late father a year before he died.
After the bridge had finally been let down, the chariot rode across onto the property before stopping.
The lawyer that got out was a little grubby thing, his head looked too large for his body, his stomach was big and round, he wore a black top hat and glasses, and he was dressed in a suit that was clearly too big for him; he came in at a mighty height of 4'6.
When he reached the door, he was greeted by Madam Tracy and escorted to Mr. Junior.
He walked into the study and took of the top hat, revealing thinly scattered hairs on top of his head, he would clearly do better to remove them, or wear a wig, but the latter would make him look even more ridiculous.
The lawyer sat down on a chair across from Mr. Ward Junior's desk, who had moved himself away from the window and was sat with a newspaper held up in front of his face, not even bothering to pay attention to his guest.
The lawyer cleared his throat to exercise his presence, but Mr. Junior carried on reading the newspaper, which was yesterday's, as he needed to catch up.
The story was an interesting one:
Kresten city has been left a ghost land, it said. The city, which was once a major outlet for the local people, has become almost untouched in the blink of an eye. However, it isn't completely disregarded, as it's said to be a thriving place for mysterious events and darkly moving forces. The weird thing about the evacuation of Kresten is the fact that the land is as beautiful as can be...
Mr. Junior read and reread this part as his mind began to tick. Kresten city was the place of his birth, and he hadn't been there since he moved out to the countryside when he was seven years old.
When he folded the paper up and placed it on his desk, he looked up to see the lawyer cleaning his glasses with a small, grey handkerchief. "You have my attention," Mr. Junior said, his voice had a particular nonchalant tone, mixed with a menacing tinge, fitting for his character.
The lawyer put on his glasses and began to explain the circumstances:
"Your father had acquired a large portfolio before his unfortunate death. It took me much effort to gather all the information about his activities over the years, of which there are many, but as regards to your inheritance, it seems that there is much your father was forced to sell in his attempt to balance the books. For instance, all of the estates that he had acquired have been sold, the physical assets: his ships, warehouses, factories, and so on, have all been sold and the money has been paid to various parties that he was in debt to. This house..." and the lawyer looked about in a quiet surprise, as the last time he had been there much had been different, "This house is the only thing that has been saved and passed down in the will."
Mr. Junior had listened attentively, his face showed no signs of... anything, which was interesting considering he was supposed to inherit a large fortune as the only living member of the family, but he looked back at the newspaper and thought of Kresten city.
This morning his mind was surprisingly clear, clear of the effects of his alcoholic binge, clear of the heavy weight of thinking about the past, and it was even clear of his episodic inclinations.
The lawyer sat there expecting the young man to say something, but when he realised that nothing would come, he carried on his duty.
"There is also a large debt of a million leaches, owed to a... a Mr. P. There is nothing that he left in his financial records, nothing at all. I'd have thought your father would have been a little more clever when it comes to this sort of thing, given the man he was, wouldn't you?"
"I'll sort it out, Mr. Gregory, is there anything else you would like to say? It seems I've some things to sort out."
"Well," Mr. Gregory said, "I have a considerable amount of paperwork in the back of my chariot. I haven't been able to look into any of it, so I couldn't tell you what it's about, but if you'd like to take it and have a look for yourself you're welcome."
"I should think so, it's my property now, is it not?" The young man said in his slightly menacing, slightly unnerving, slightly nonchalant tone.
"Very well, will you do it yourself, or will somebody else?"
Mr. Junior stood up and the lawyer took it as a sign of his leave, but to his surprise, he saw Mr. Junior was following him to the door and out to the chariot.
After removing a white sheet that was covering two large chests, Mr. Junior personally carried them one by one into his study and put them neatly in a corner.
After which the lawyer came through the entrance hall and peeped his head into the room before he said: "It's no secret that you and I have never seen eye to eye, young sir, but your father was very good to me, which is why I have took it upon myself to leave you some information on some of the people who he had dealt with in the past. Some connections in this cruel world would do you well, I think, anyway, I'm leaving for a new job in a city not too far away from where we stand. It's called Kresten city. I'm not sure if you've heard of it. There seems to be opportunity there. A lot of business gets done, I'm told. Anyhow, if you're ever in town, I'd be glad to show you around, maybe we could even become partners, who knows."
Mr. Ward Junior said nothing as he watched the lawyer scurry away to his chariot. He looked back over to the newspaper on his desk and decided that Kresten city would become a place of some importance to him. But why did Mr. Gregory have business there? And why would he talk as if he wanted to become intimate acquaintances?
Mr. Junior turned around to look at the chests that weighed a ton. Things were happening too quickly recently, he thought.
But what choice did he have?