With Diog right at his side, Silas left the summoning chamber, feeling the small but comforting presence of the mythic creature beside him.

The puppy's tail wagged excitedly as it explored the unfamiliar corridors of the estate. Every now and then, Diog would dart ahead, sniffing at something only to come bouncing back to Silas with a playful bark that made Silas wince, hoping that nothing heard the bark.

Despite its size, Silas could feel the weight of power from the little creature—this was a mythic summon, no doubt about it.

"Diog, keep it down," Silas muttered. The mythic wolf cub looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, then wagged his tail even harder, clearly enjoying their little adventure.

Diog sniffed the air and then bounded toward a large set of double doors on the far side of the foyer.

Silas followed.

"You think there's something good in there?" he asked quietly, feeling a bit silly talking to a dog.

The doors loomed tall and imposing, carved with intricate patterns that hinted at their age and importance. Silas hesitated for a moment before trying the ornate key on this lock too.

"Alright, buddy. Let's see what Dewalt was hiding."

He tried to push the door open, but nothing happened.

Silas looked sadly at Diog, "Sorry buddy, sometimes these things don't work out. Let's keep looking."

They wandered deeper into the estate, the hallways stretched on, revealing old, worn portraits of the Beckham family, walls engraved with intricate runes, and occasional flickers of dormant magical wards.

Silas imagined his grandfather, Arch Magus Dewalt Beckham, walking these same halls, perhaps contemplating similar challenges.

The deeper they went, the more Silas noticed subtle changes, the dust was less thick, and the air felt warmer. It was as if the estate recognized him, acknowledging his claim.

But then… the air shifted. A heavy, cold pressure descended on the corridor, and before Silas could react, a hulking figure materialized at the far end of the hallway, blocking their path.

Bonereghard.

The skeletal steward stood in his full armored form, massive and menacing and filled the hall. His hollow eyes flared with a fierce, ghostly light as he stepped forward. The air around him shimmered with latent mana.

He was no simple servant—he was a guardian bound to the estate, and by the look in his eye, he didn't recognize Silas as the new master.

"Intruder." Bonereghard's voice echoed with a deep, hollow tone. He raised a hand and pulled out a sword. "The estate of Arch Magus Dewalt does not welcome thieves or pretenders."

Silas froze, instinctively taking a step back.

Diog barked, standing defensively in front of Silas, but it was clear Bonereghard was not the kind of enemy they could face, not yet. The skeletal guardian stepped forward, his weapon raised, ready to strike and cut them down.

"Wait, wait!" Silas yelled, fumbling in his coat.

His heart raced as the tip of the sword hovered inches from his chest. He pulled out the crumpled notice of inheritance and held it up in trembling hands. "I'm not an intruder! I've inherited the estate. I'm Dewalt's grandson!"

Bonereghard paused, the cold light in his eyes flickering for a moment.

He stared down at the document, the gears of his mind visibly grinding through old protocols.

After an agonizing silence, Bonereghard lowered his sword and dissolved back into his more familiar form, a skeletal figure draped in an ancient but impeccable butler's suit. The tension eased slightly as he stepped closer, his hollow eyes scanning the notice before looking back at Silas.

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"You claim the estate?" Bonereghard's voice was measured but still heavy with suspicion. "But you do not possess the deed. The estate does not tolerate pretenders."

Silas nodded quickly, swallowing hard. "Yeah, about that… I can't get the deed until I pay off some of the back taxes, 1% of the total amount."

Bonereghard's bony fingers curled tightly around his sword's shaft as he pondered this for a moment.

Then unexpectedly, a low rattling laugh escaped his mouth.

"Ah yes. Worse than thieves or pretenders. These bureaucrats," Bonereghard said with dry amusement. "Ever fond of their paperwork and taxes."

Silas blinked, unsure whether to be relieved or even more nervous.

Bonereghard straightened slightly less menacing now. "Easily fixed," he said matter-of-factly. "The Arch Magus left funds for such inconveniences hidden away from prying hands."

He glanced down at Silas with faint amusement in his hollow gaze.

"I assume you'll be needing those funds to settle your affairs."

Silas nearly collapsed in relief, nodding vigorously, "Yes. That would be—yeah, I need that."

Bonereghard gave a slow nod. "Follow me then."

Without another word, Bonereghard turned, walking deeper into the estate. Silas exhaled and gave Diog a quick pat before following after the skeletal butler. Diog followed, occasionally nipping at Bonereghard's heels, which he either didn't notice or didn't care about.

They passed through grand corridors, moving further into depths until they reached a small, inconspicuous door. Bonereghard tapped his sword against it, and the door creaked open, revealing a modest room lined with iron chests.

Bonereghard gestured to one chest. "This is the fund left behind by the Arch Magus for such emergencies. Enough to cover necessary taxes and perhaps a little more for your troubles."

Silas approached the chest, hands trembling slightly as he opened the lid. Inside, gold gleamed in the faint light, a small fortune compared to the few silver coins rattling in his pouch.

"Consider this a gift from your grandfather," Bonereghard said, his hollow voice carrying a strange warmth, "and a reminder that not all debts are paid in coin."

Silas nodded, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. "Thank you."

Silas looked at the gold and silver coins. It was more wealth than he'd ever seen in his life, and for a moment, he felt the weight of his burdens lift just a bit.

He reached out, his fingers brushing the cool metal, imagining all the problems this gold could solve and enjoyed how the coins so easily slid through his fingers.

Bonereghard coughed roughly. "Reckless expenditures aside, sudden wealth creates sudden targets, and fools are quickly parted from their money." The skeletal steward's hollow eyes seemed to bore into Silas, making him shiver despite himself. "The reserves left behind by the Arch Magus, while plentiful, are not inexhaustible."

Silas paused, hand hovering over the coins. He glanced up at Bonereghard, who stood as a stark reminder of the estate's long and tumultuous history.

"Right," Silas said slowly, pulling his hand back. "I get it. Only take what I need."

Bonereghard gave a slow nod of approval. "Precisely. Prudence will serve you far better than greed. The estate's wealth is meant to sustain its future until the heir has come into themselves and is able to replenish these funds. It is not meant to indulge in fleeting luxuries."

Silas took a deep breath and carefully counted out a portion of the coins, enough to cover the taxes and perhaps a bit extra for immediate needs. He filled a small pouch and tied it securely to his belt.

"I think this should be enough," he said, standing up and closing the chest with a firm thud.

Bonereghard watched him with an unreadable expression. "A wise choice, young heir," he said, though there was a hint of something—approval?—in his tone.

Diog barked softly at Silas.

Silas couldn't help but smile at the little wolf cub. "Alright, Diog. Let's go pay those taxes and make this place officially ours."

Bonereghard's skeletal hand reached down to Diog.

The mythic wolf cub tilted its head curiously, then nudged the bony fingers with its nose.

Bonereghard patted the little creature with surprising gentleness, his hollow eyes softening.

"Ah, Diog," Bonereghard murmured, his voice unexpectedly warm. "A fine specimen, indeed. Truly a beast of legend. One might even say more competent than some of the living occupants of this estate."

Silas shot a sideways glance at Bonereghard, who was now scratching behind Diog's ears. The wolf cub closed its eyes, clearly enjoying the attention.

"You see, Diog," Bonereghard continued, as if speaking to an equal. "Some creatures in this estate understand their worth and potential right from the start. Unlike certain bipeds who require instruction and oversight. Lest they throw eons of work and labor to ruin."

Silas rolled his eyes.

Diog let out a contented bark and wagged his tail vigorously. Bonereghard nodded approvingly. "Yes, indeed. You will grow into a mighty wolf, Diog. My favorite of the things the Arch Magus has left behind to find their way into the estate."

Silas bit his lip and blinked. "I get it, Bonereghard."

Bonereghard straightened up, adjusting his monocle with a deliberate flourish before addressing Silas directly for the first time since petting Diog.

"Now that you have secured the necessary funds," he said crisply, "It falls on you to pay those taxes."

Silas nodded, securing the pouch of coins at his belt more tightly. "Yeah, I need to do that."

Bonereghard gave one last pat to Diog before turning to lead them back through the estate's winding corridors. The skeletal steward's hollow eyes flickered as he glanced back at Silas and Diog walking side by side.

"Do keep up. I wouldn't want the Gemini to get ahold of you before you possess the deed."