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To whoeverso manageth to maintain my estate for a weeks time shalleth inherith it as well as mine large fortune to the sum of, at the time of writing, 2500 dubloons of imperial marking and my assorted inheritance hitherfor located at this very estate.
There was some legal stuff besides the interesting core sentence but suffice to say, great-grand uncle Serveens estate was quite lucrative.. as in, whoever fulfilled his will would never have to work again. Which made it a little odd that the only direct relatives had declined the will, making it fall to distant relatives. Mika, who had seen uncle Serveen like once as a child and barely remembered his face at all, in this case.
Poor uncle Serveen had died of natural causes, which would have likely disappointed him. If the stories were true he was experimenting with various kinds of religions and black magic rituals as a hobby, though apparently nothing had come from it, except for a restraining order from the local church after an incident involving a drunk uncle Serveen and several buckets of goat-blood. And family legend had that he was excluded from parties since the incident with the horse, of which Mika even after curious prodding knew no more than that well, a horse had been somehow involved. Suffice to say he had been a bit of an oddball.
The house, really, better defined as a small mansion stood upon a small hill behind the Ashenvale village, a sleepy little town that was easily enough reached per coach, though as Mika arrived it was already late night, the mansion illuminated by moonlight:
"Oy, are ye sure ye don't wanna spent the night at the inn, rather than this abandoned house? Ye know the townsfolk say.. eh, never pay it mind." The leather clad coacher half baked at Mika, tilting his head and shrugging slightly.
Admittedly, even viewed from afar, the three (did the tower count for four?) story building was quite imposing for a single person. Mika better packed lunch if she planned to explore it. Well, at first, she'd have to get in with the heavy iron key that had come with the will.. and then find a bedroom. Or perhaps she had the few coins left for an inn-bed, warm, prepared, only slightly likely to hide infectious diseases in moderatly cleaned bedsheets.
At least it was a mild enough early summer day to not have to worry about the old house being drafty.
There was some legal stuff besides the interesting core sentence but suffice to say, great-grand uncle Serveens estate was quite lucrative.. as in, whoever fulfilled his will would never have to work again. Which made it a little odd that the only direct relatives had declined the will, making it fall to distant relatives. Mika, who had seen uncle Serveen like once as a child and barely remembered his face at all, in this case.
Poor uncle Serveen had died of natural causes, which would have likely disappointed him. If the stories were true he was experimenting with various kinds of religions and black magic rituals as a hobby, though apparently nothing had come from it, except for a restraining order from the local church after an incident involving a drunk uncle Serveen and several buckets of goat-blood. And family legend had that he was excluded from parties since the incident with the horse, of which Mika even after curious prodding knew no more than that well, a horse had been somehow involved. Suffice to say he had been a bit of an oddball.
The house, really, better defined as a small mansion stood upon a small hill behind the Ashenvale village, a sleepy little town that was easily enough reached per coach, though as Mika arrived it was already late night, the mansion illuminated by moonlight:
"Oy, are ye sure ye don't wanna spent the night at the inn, rather than this abandoned house? Ye know the townsfolk say.. eh, never pay it mind." The leather clad coacher half baked at Mika, tilting his head and shrugging slightly.
Admittedly, even viewed from afar, the three (did the tower count for four?) story building was quite imposing for a single person. Mika better packed lunch if she planned to explore it. Well, at first, she'd have to get in with the heavy iron key that had come with the will.. and then find a bedroom. Or perhaps she had the few coins left for an inn-bed, warm, prepared, only slightly likely to hide infectious diseases in moderatly cleaned bedsheets.
At least it was a mild enough early summer day to not have to worry about the old house being drafty.
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