C0 - Prologue
“Hello?”
“Are you Allison Stalnaycrov?” The man blurted almost the same instant as I opened the door and greeted him. I stared at him. He had what looked to be a maintenance person with a crate on a dolly behind him. He adjusted his tie feverishly for a moment. “I am here on behalf of your grandfather?”
“Oh.” I muttered, looking past him at the crate. “Y…yes. I’m Allison.”
“I understand that it may be unfortunately early, and that you are still grieving… but Bartholomew was insistent that I handle your portion of the will immediately after his passing.”
“The will?”
“Yes.” He gestured towards the crate. “As per the will, your grandfather left you: His heirloom sword. Two foam swords. One platinum plated calligraphy set. A stack of calligraphy pages, pre-filled. His sack of silver coins from his time in France. Count Leonardo Vespucci. The Great Swords. His whetstone. And the remaining payout of his retirement fund, which ends up being two hundred twenty nine thousand eight hundred fifty four dollars and twenty five cents.”
“Two hundred and thirty thousand dollars?”
“Oh right.” The man said, as if he’d accidentally forgotten something, he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “Your grandfather also had in his will his second house. Address is attached to the ring.”
“He doesn’t have a second house.”
“It must’ve been a recent purchase. I notarized it after he was diagnosed.” The man said, He checked the documents he had in front of him. He held out a business card. “If there are any individuals contesting your portion of the will, I am pre-paid to handle up to five years of litigation for you.”
“Pre-paid?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“O…Okay…”
“Where would be a good place to set the crate of the effects down?”
“Oh. Uh… in the living room.”
“May we come in?”
“Of course.”
“As I am obligated to be your legal counsel, I advise you get a financial advisor for your new fortune. At your age of twenty two, even half of it would set you up for an early retirement at forty, if it were handled correctly. Even earlier if your advisor, or yourself are that good with it.”
“I…I understand.”
“There it is.” The other man said, wheeling the dolly back out towards the front door. “Have a good day, Mr. Greene. Sorry for your loss, Ms. Stalnaycrov.”
“Thanks Wes.” The Lawyer said, nodding to the other man. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“I…I don’t know what to do with half of this stuff… I didn’t even know my grandfather still had that old sword?”
“As money shouldn’t be a problem for you in the future, I would advise against making any hasty sales on any of the items. I was not given any statements about any of the items in the will or any instructions beyond what to give out.”
“Th…Thank you.”
“My business card has my office number, and the address of my offices. Even if I’m not in, my secretary will take a message for you and I’ll handle any issues you have swiftly.” The man started towards the door. “I’m sorry for your loss. Bartholomew was a great client and a good man.”
“He was.” I said, watching the door gently shut. I turned and stared at the crate. The top had been lifted to give me entry. I carefully took off the lid and stared inside. Two novels… his favorites… and by consequence, some of my favorites. I took them out and opened up Count Leonardo. It had a signature from the author, with a message in French written to my grandfather. I set the two books on my living room coffee table. I lifted out one of the foam swords. My hand immediately started to tremble. I set them on the table as well. I pulled out a velvet pouch, which jingled and clanked with what could only be his coins… I’d been infatuated with them when I was young. The calligraphy set, it was one of the few reasons I’d gotten so good with art, the reason I ended up minoring in it… and it was now mine. There was a binder full of the transferal of ownership of the account holding his money, as well as the full amount and everything. And of course, at the very bottom, wrapped and packed with great care was an ornate longsword, it was in the original display that I remembered it to be in. I carefully lifted the case and brought it over to another table, setting it down. I carefully opened the glass door and lifted the sword out. I felt the edge… it was sharp, as if someone had sharpened it recently. I set it back inside, then looked at the rest of the crate. Nothing left. Just the wooden box. I looked at the door, then at the clock. “Shit! The funeral.”
