The morning was cloaked in an eerie stillness, the kind that always settled over the estate when something monumental was about to happen.
Arthur stood at the grand column near the manor's entrance, watching as his father prepared to depart for the capital.
The golden hues of dawn painted the manor in soft light, but to Arthur, everything felt muted, as though the colors themselves had dimmed in the wake of his father's looming absence.
Richard's silhouette stood stark against the morning light as he supervised the loading of trunks onto the waiting carriage.
'Of course, he would take his loyal man with him.'
The servants moved about efficiently. To them, this was nothing more than another duty, a moment to be executed with precision before returning to their daily routines.
But for Arthur... it was different.
A strange heaviness settled in his chest, though he couldn't quite place why. It wasn't sorrow, nor was it relief. It was something in between, an unnamed weight pressing against his ribs.
Arthur's eyes met with the Earl's as he called out to him.
"Arthur, come here."
His voice wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. The authority in his tone left no room for hesitation.
Arthur stepped forward as he approached the Earl, his hands instinctively clenched into fists, betraying the nervous energy coursing through him.
The Earl's gaze flicked downward, sharp and discerning, noticing the tension in his hands at once. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers prying open Arthur's clenched fists with deliberate ease.
"Arthur, always keep your eyes and ears open. You won't know when you're betrayed by someone close to you. And make sure to remember everything I've taught you so far. You'll need it sooner or later."
The Earl didn't need to warn him about everything. He already knew the price of unwavering trust. After all, the one who pushed him from the building on that certain rainy day wasn't just anyone, but his most trusted friend and partner in crime.
Arthur lifted his eyes to meet the Earl's, and for the first time, he noticed the absence of cold detachment in them. His gaze, so often unreadable, held something he couldn't quite name.
"I understand, Father."
Then, something unexpected happened, he smiled. It was fleeting, barely a quirk at the corner of his lips. But nonetheless, it was there.
Before he could fully process it, the Earl's hand reached out once more, this time ruffling his hair in a gesture so foreign, so utterly out of place, that Arthur stiffened on instinct.
"I'll be departing now."
His fingers lingered for a fraction of a second before he withdrew, stepping back as if the moment had never happened.
"Yes, Father."
The words felt strange on Arthur's tongue, heavier than they should have been.
Then, with a nod of approval, the Earl climbed into the carriage, Richard following after him.
The gathered servants bowed deeply, their movements synchronized as the horses began to pull the carriage forward. Soon, the carriage was out of sight and everyone returned to their duties, but Arthur stood there, watching, unable to move for a moment.
The years passed as Edmund, the head butler, took over Arthur's lessons, his firm but measured guidance replacing the Earl's sharper edges. The weight of expectation shifted onto Arthur, pressing heavier with each passing season.
The servants bowed to him now. The authority that once belonged to his father had begun to settle on his shoulders.
And yet, that morning — the stillness, the touch, the fleeting smile — remained etched into his memory, a moment he would never quite understand.
September 22, 1877.
That day was strange from the start. It was raining quite heavily that evening, as if it were a sign of the impending disaster to come.
Crackle!
A blinding light flashed into the room. Soon after, the manor windows rattled from the thundering sound.
However, Arthur was too busy to take notice of the situation outside. He sat at the head of the table, having his dinner quietly.
Click. Clack.
He cut the meat on his plate into small pieces, making it easier to eat, and sipped the wine from the crystal glass occasionally.
'It's about time, the letter from the capital arrived.'
As if to answer his concern over the letter, the head butler stepped inside the dining hall with quiet steps and stopped a step away from him.
'Ah. It seems it's here!'
Edmund had a solemn expression as he said:
"Young master, a boy's here to meet you. It seems he's here to deliver an urgent telegram from the capital."
Arthur's expression shifted to confusion.
'Telegram...? But wasn't it supposed to be a letter instead?'
"I see. Let him in... actually, never mind. Where's the boy?"
"He's waiting in the entrance hall."
Arthur wiped his lips with a napkin and stood up, his steps unhurried. The butler followed behind at a measured distance.
'It must be something urgent enough for a telegram to arrive despite the continuous rain. I hope it's not of too much importance.'
But contrary to his hopes, something bad had happened, and he knew that was the case as soon as he saw the boy standing in the foyer. The boy clutched his cap to his chest, his expression showing clear signs of fear.
Arthur stepped closer to him. The boy bowed as soon as their eyes met.
"Evening, sir! Are you Arthur Ashbourne, sir?"
Arthur noticed the faint tremble in the boy's hands. He couldn't tell whether it was from the cold or from fear of him. The boy's entire body was soaked through, rainwater trailing down and pooling on the marble floor.
Arthur nodded slightly and replied.
"Yes. That's me. But what brings you here at this hour...?"
—And in this heavy rain...
The boy took out the telegram, which he had hidden carefully to keep it safe from the rain.
"I was told to hand this telegram directly to you. My apologies for the inconvenience, sir."
The boy spoke quite clearly despite the tremor in his hands and the fear visible in his eyes.
"Haa... No worries. Edmund, bring him a warm glass of milk before sending him away."
"Yes, young master."
Arthur took the telegram from the boy's hand and looked at it carefully. It was wrapped with a string, and he opened it slowly.
It stated, in quite detached language:
That the ship carrying Earl Frederick Ashbourne was reported missing at sea. No survivors were found, and last contact was made four days prior. The investigation is ongoing and they will send further reports when available.
Arthur scoffed at the report.
"Hah! What a load of crap!"
'He's not one to disappear suddenly like this...'
The Earl Frederick Ashbourne that Arthur knew was not someone who would go missing like this. It was highly likely that he had orchestrated it all himself, or that there was someone else at play, perhaps a hand unknown.
'But what if... the story has already taken a drastic turn? Because none of this was supposed to happen.'
The story that Arthur had read never mentioned anything about the Earl's disappearance, and so this must be the result of his interference... or perhaps, it was the result of him still being alive. After all, according to the novel, he was supposed to be dead by now.
***
The sound of scotch filling the crystal glass rang in the quiet study as a servant poured the drink carefully.
'I will have to wait until I get any further report, or at least until the morning, to decide my next step.'
Arthur gazed at the glass filled with scotch, his reflection visibly distorted in the amber liquid.
'I was supposed to have my first drink with my father but... it seems it won't be possible now.'
There was a kind of tradition in this family: the man who came of age would have his first drink together with his father. And later he would receive presents from his family members, especially from his father.
Knock. Knock.
The sound at the door pulled Arthur from his thoughts.
"Come in!"
The door creaked open, and the head butler entered the room, his hands holding a box neatly wrapped with a ribbon. It was large enough to contain a bottle of liquor.
"Young master, this is a present for you. It was prepared by the master for your coming of age."
He placed the box onto the desk.
"Father prepared this...? Since when...?"
Arthur was surprised by the sudden present, he hadn't even considered the possibility.
"It has been a few years now. It was solely made for the young master."
Arthur reached to open the box, wrapped like a present.
'What will be inside it...?'
He was both nervous and curious, it was his first time receiving a gift from his father.
As soon as the box opened, what lay inside wasn't a liquor bottle but... a weapon.
'A revolver gun?!'
The gun was silver in color, with an ash tree insignia on the handle. It shone brightly under the dim lights of the chandelier.
'I don't know if I'll be using this weapon, but... I like it nonetheless.'
Arthur's face held both happiness and suspicion.
'But why a revolver... and not some property documents?'
Arthur didn't notice that the servant had been standing there for a while.
Edmund, who noticed, spoke up.
"Take your leave now."
The servant nodded politely.
"Yes, head butler."
As soon as the servant reached the door, Arthur's voice rang out in the room:
"Stop!!"