Silas followed Boneregard into the study, taking in the chaos of scattered books and fallen shelves. Dust swirled in front of tall windows, their glass cracked but mostly intact.
The room smelled of old paper and something else, a musty undertone that reminded him of dried blood.
He sank into the offered chair. The adrenaline crash hit hard after the fight with the Gemini, the mad dash across the courtyard, and Boneregard's transformation.
The Summoner Orb clinked against the wooden table as he set it down. Both the Grey Owl and Lesser Salamander remained ready, though Silas hoped he wouldn't need them again so soon.
Boneregard moved muttering to himself as he tested tested chairs for stability. Most crumbled at his touch, their wood rotted through and ooks crunched under his feet despite his careful steps.
Silas watched the skeleton work, still processing everything he'd learned. His grandfather hadn't just been eccentric, he'd been dangerously obsessed. The creatures trapped in the Archive, the horrors loose in the manor, even Boneregard himself, all because one man couldn't tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
Silas gripped the leather armrest.
Strange to think this chair, this whole estate, belonged to people who shared his blood. The Beckhams might as well have been characters from a story for all he knew of them. His world had been the grimy streets of Dolan, where your next meal depended on either begging, thieving, or which monster contracts no one else would take.
"Your grandfather was quite fond of that chair." Boneregard's skull tilted. "He would spend hours there, reading through his research."
"Never met him." Silas kept his voice flat. "Never met any Beckham. Far as I knew, I was just another orphan in Dolan trying not to starve."
The skeleton's red eyes flickered. "But surely you must have some questions about your family?"
"Only practical ones." Silas responded. "Like what killed them all except me. And whether it might come back to finish the job."
He'd learned young that dwelling on might-have-beens was a waste of energy. The orphanage taught him that family meant nothing, either they wanted you or they didn't. He'd chosen the streets over beatings and monster hunting over begging.
Better to focus on survival than wonder why no Beckham had ever come looking for him. Why he'd been left to fight rats for scraps while this estate sat empty.
"The chair was enchanted, you know." Boneregard offered. "To help keep up ones health while studying for long hours."
"It didn't do him much good did it?" Silas muttered.
A rustling sound drew his attention to a far corner where shadows seemed to move of their own accord. Silas kept his hand near the orb, ready to summon aid if needed.
But whatever lurked there stayed back, perhaps wary of Boneregard's presence.
Silas shifted in the enchanted chair. "The system recognized me, so... it's official, right? I'm the heir."
Boneregard's skull bobbed in a nod. "Yes. The wards no longer view you as intruder. Once reactivated fully, they will respond to your commands. That is, if we manage to give them enough mana to restore normal function."
Silas ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the dirt and sweat. "Yeah, about that. I saw how badly the estate's in debt."
The skeleton dusted off a small stool, then sat down on it. He crossed one bony leg over the other. "Correct. Master Dewalt's passing severed the direct bloodline feed. No one's maintained the ley lines since then."
Silas exhaled. "So I have to fix that or let the place rot."
Silas glanced at the Summoner Orb resting on the table. Basically tirty thousand gold. The number made his stomach churn. Back in Dolan, he'd considered himself lucky to earn five silver for clearing out an arachne nest.
At that rate, he'd need several lifetimes just to cover the interest.
"Three gold was hard for me to manage," he said. "And now the city wants thousands? How am I supposed to come up with that kind of money."
"Ah, the city's bureaucratic burden." Bonregard replied. "The Arch Magus Dewalt foresaw such trials, but I doubt even he expected so many... compounding fees."
"Try twenty-eight thousand, one hundred and twelve gold." The exact number he couldn't forget. He'd counted every coin during his desperate gambling run, scraping together just enough for the inheritance fee.
The skeletal butler shifted on his stool. "The estate does possess certain... assets that could aid in addressing these financial obligations."
Silas snorted. "What assets? This place is falling apart."
He waved at the crumbling shelves, the rotted floorboards, the shadows that moved when they shouldn't. "Unless you've got a treasury hidden somewhere, we're neck-deep in debt with no way out."
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"The Archive alone contains specimens worth-"
"The Archive full of deadly creatures that want to kill me?" Silas cut in. "Great. So I can either die poor or die trying to catch whatever nightmares my grandfather collected."
Boneregard's shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. "Gold can be acquired in many ways, Master Silas. The estate has hidden troves and artifacts. Perhaps you'll find some valuable relics to sell, though I must caution you, some are, dangerously cursed or sought after."
Silas snorted. "Of course they are. Because nothing can be easy."
Hidden troves sounded promising, but his years hunting taught him that 'hidden' usually meant 'protected by something dangerous.' The kind of dangerous that left bodies behind.
The shadows in the corner writhed again. Whatever watched from there hadn't attacked yet, but Silas kept track of its movements.
One threat at a time was enough.
He thought of the Gemini outside, their rusted armor and burning eyes. If those were just the gate guards, what protected these supposed treasures?
More constructs? Worse?
Twenty-eight thousand gold. Even if he found something valuable, selling it meant dealing with collectors who'd ask questions. Questions about where a street rat from Dolan got his hands on noble artifacts.
He looked at the study.
Rotted wood, crumbling stone, and creatures lurking in shadows. All of it supposedly his now. His inheritance. His debt. His grandfather's mess to clean up.
Silas studied the crumbling shelves. A thought struck him as he looked over the spines of ancient books.
"What about salvage? Anything valuable in here that won't try to kill me when I touch it?"
Boneregard moved over towards a partially collapsed bookshelf, carefully extracting scrolls from the debris. "Master Dewalt's research contains extensive documentation of his collection. Some specimens might prove suitable for taming or summoning."
Silas straightened. His E-rank summons had gotten him this far, but he'd seen hints of the estate's true power. "Taming them would be cheaper than hiring help."
Boneregard turned, holding a weathered tome bound in cracked leather. "This volume describes the leylines beneath the estate. Once restored, it could generate mana for sale."
"Mana." Silas leaned forward. The market for excess mana never dried up. "That could handle the debt."
"Yes young master. Though you'll need to subdue the creatures and repair the wards first. Otherwise, they'll simply break free again."
Silas rubbed his eyes. "So fix the wards, control the leyeline, sell excess, pay off debt. And try not to die."
"An astute summary, my lord." Boneregard bowed slightly. "I shall assist however possible."
Silas sighed. "First, I need rest. Can't face anything else right now."
"This room should suffice temporarily. The more aggressive residents prefer the upper floors." Boneregard tapped his ribcage. "I'll stand watch. And I promise not to threaten you again."
"Thanks for that." Silas settled deeper into the chair. "Never thought I'd be grateful to a skeleton butler."
"Nor did I expect an heir from Dolan's streets," Boneregard replied. "Yet here we are."
It was the first time the butler had directly acknowledged where Silas came from. "Yeah. Here we are."
A flicker of movement caught Silas's eye, that shadow in the corner again. His hand tensed near the Summoner Orb.
"Ah, that would be Hennick," Boneregard said, his tone almost bored. "Pay him no mind. He's harmless, if rather fond of startling people."
The shadow darted across the wall, taking vaguely humanoid shape before dissolving back into darkness. Silas tracked its movement, muscles still taut.
"Harmless?"
"An old jumpscare, nothing more. The Arch magus kept him as a gag of sorts.. Though these days he mostly skulks about trying to frighten anyone who enters."
The skeleton pointed to a battered sofa near the wall. "That might be slightly more comfortable than the floor. And you've had a trying day, outrunning armed tamers, going through the Gemini, surviving your encounter with me. I suspect rest is overdue."
Silas's legs threatened to buckle at the mere suggestion of lying down. "Yeah, guess I'll do that."
He paused. "You sure no old warlord reflexes will kick in?"
Boneregard laid a bony hand over his ribcage in a show of decorum. "I promise, you've nothing to fear from me now, Master Silas. My blade remains sheathed, unless you order otherwise, of course."
Silas nodded and let himself sink onto the musty cushions. "Just, keep an eye out for anything else wandering around, yeah?"
Boneregard bowed. "I shall guard you with my un-life."
Though the old sofa reeked of dust and mildew, Silas felt too drained to care. He was safe, for the moment. His eyelids drooped, adrenaline drained.
In the flickering candlelight, he watched Boneregard settle near the doorway, arms folded, silent sentinel. The butler's strange courtesy seemed out of place after the previously murderery version of the butler he'd seen. .
But for now, peace held.
This was his inheritance, for better or worse, haunted halls, monstrous guardians, crippling debt, and all.
"All mine," he murmured, half-laughing. Then sleep claimed him.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
SILAS BECKHAM
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Class: Summoner (Potential: Mythic)
Rank: E+
ATTRIBUTES
-----------
• Strength: E
• Agility: D
• Endurance: D
• Magic: C
SKILLS
-------
• Street Fighting [Intermediate]
• Monster Knowledge [Intermediate]
• Survival Instincts [Intermediate]
• Beast Taming [Latent]
TITLES
-------
• Last of the Beckham Line
• Heir to the Beckham Estate
• Summoner Initiate
STATUS
-------
• Minor Injuries: Scrapes, bruises (Caretaker scuffle)
• Physical Fatigue: Moderate → High
• Mental Fatigue: High
• Mana Pool: Low (Multiple Summons + Holy Water usage)
DEBTS
-------
• Estate Inheritance Tax: 12,489 gold
• Back Taxes: 15,623 gold
• Total Outstanding: 28,112 gold
ASSETS
--------
• Magistrate’s Summoning Orb (Borrowed)
• Basic Combat Gear (Damage: moderate)
• [Coin on Hand]: Modest (subject to story events)
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
SUMMONER’S ROSTER (6 SLOTS)
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
1) Grey Owl (E)
- Status: Slightly injured, short rest needed
• Notes: Aerial advantage; Grip-and-Drop finisher
2) Lesser Salamander (E)
• Status: Minor burns, short rest needed
• Notes: Fire-breath for close range & area denial
3) Bog Frog (E)
• Status: Permanently destroyed (slot locked until repaired)
• Notes: Acid spit was effective on constructs
4) [Unknown]
• Status: Not yet discovered/tamed
5) [Unknown]
• Status: Not yet discovered/tamed
6) [Unknown]
• Status: Not yet discovered/tamed
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ESTATE RECOGNITION
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
• **Caretaker**: Boneregard Ekkert
- Former warlord form triggered by estate defense protocol
- Now bound to obey legitimate heir (in “butler” form)
• **Estate Wards**: Partially responsive; require mana reactivation
• **Full Entry**: Granted; official claim verified
CURRENT OBJECTIVES
-------------------
• Recover from caretaker battle (rest in the lounge)
• Investigate “Hennick” shadow phenomena
• Reactivate wards & harness estate’s ley lines
• Address massive debts (28,112 gold outstanding)
• Explore and secure the Manor’s interior
SYSTEM NOTE:
“Hostile caretaker subjugated. Proper introductions complete. Rest advised before proceeding with further ward reactivations and potential Archive encounters.”