Chapter 31: The Home He Left Behind

I heard the door’s lock disengage with a heavy shunk, prompting me to reach out and take hold of the handle once again. This time, when I pulled the latch, the thick wooden door swung inward.

Sunlight crept in from the open door and illuminated faint outlines of furniture in the room ahead. After slipping off my shoes, I stood staring into the dark for a long moment as I gathered my nerves.

Alright. Here goes nothing.

I ran my hand along the nearby wall until I found what I was hoping for, a small rune etched into the timber frame just beyond the foyer. When I pressed it, lamps around the room flickered to life one by one, and their soft light chased away the shadows that clung to the corners of the room.

As the remaining lamps came to life, they revealed a wide, open chamber far larger than I had anticipated from the outside. Its high, vaulted ceiling was supported by a sturdy arch of dark timber that closely resembled the spine within a turles empty shell. An iron chandelier hung from its center by a heavy chain, and faint runelight shone from the points of it’s metal frame. Honestly, having this many rune lamps linked together was an impressive display of wealth all on its own.

I wasn’t too familiar with the finer details of how runes were applied, but an artisan who had visited the family farm when I was younger, had once taken some time to indulge my curious mind.

He had explained that runes operated through intricate circuits, and signals that communicated through the ambient magic in the air. Naturally, I’d stopped listening halfway through his explanation, because at the time, I was more focused on finishing work early so I could spend more time with Grace.

Grace… she would have loved the yellow flowers growing on the vines outside. I shook my head, immediately pushing the intrusive thought away. 

Looking for a distraction, I began to look around the room in earnest.

A large fireplace of dark, heavy stone dominated the far right wall. It was surrounded by what I assumed were couches and other furniture, but they were all currently underneath a sheet that had been draped over them to ward away settling dust. A thick carpet rested beneath it all, anchoring the comforts of the room in a muted, dark green hue.

I began pulling the sheets off the furniture to see exactly what I was dealing with, and was delighted to find a cozy collection of soft leather chairs and couches. Each was paired with a small side table, while a larger coffee table was anchored in the center of the arrangement, bringing the room together. The collection was strikingly similar to the Duke’s furnishings, and I had a faint suspicion they’d been crafted by the same talented carpenter.

As I continued to explore, my curiosity drew me to the fireplace, where I examined the flue and two sturdy levers jutting from its stonework.

When I pulled the leftmost lever, I felt a gentle suction rise through the chimney. 

Why would he use runes for ventilation? Chimneys naturally ventilate a room… right?

My question was immediately answered as I pulled the next lever. A faint rattle shook the walls before settling into a steady hum. That was when I noticed several metal pipes that extended from the fireplace, and curled back into the walls. My eyes followed their path until I found several outlets scattered throughout the room. It appeared that this worked as a way to evenly distribute heat throughout the home during the winter months.

Satisfied, I returned the levers to their resting positions, and moved on to inspect the rest of the home.

On the far side of the house, opposite the front door, a broad wooden arch framed the entryway into the kitchen. Stepping through, I found myself in a space that would’ve earned Granny Claybrook’s full approval

The kitchen was built with the same rustic elegance that defined the rest of the home. A broad stone oven dominated the far wall, while a small stovetop beside it promised a more refined means of cooking. Stone countertops stretched along the length of the room, their surfaces smooth and well worn beneath my fingers.

As I ran my hand along the counter, a gentle warmth spread beneath my fingers. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but closer inspection revealed faint runes cleverly embedded within several circular sections of the stone. Each one radiated a focused heat, neatly contained within its borders,

I wasn’t sure what their purpose was at first, but when I noticed a tea kettle resting nearby, the answer quickly became clear. These runes would let you boil water without ever needing to light a fire.

I couldn’t help but think of my mother. Every morning she’d heat the kettle downstairs and sip her tea as the sun steadily made its way over the fields. The whistle of that pot had been the bane of my mornings for years… yet now, I found myself missing the sound.

Once again, I pushed the thought aside, redirecting my focus on the room around me. 

The shelves above the counters were stocked with neatly arranged cookware, pots, and utensils. To be honest, I wasn’t sure the proper way to use most of them. I could cook a little, but some of the kitchens accessories were completely unfamiliar to me. 

What caught my attention next was the sink, it was crafted out of a dark polished stone, and was fitted with a single brass handle. When I pulled it’s handle, clear water flowed out in a steady stream. A faint shimmer of runes pulsed beneath the basin’s surface, and with a twist of the handle, the water shifted from cool to pleasantly warm.

I couldn’t help but smile. The entire setup was simple yet ingenious, the perfect marriage between craftsmanship and convenience.

Further investigation of the kitchen revealed a small pantry that was tucked away in the corner. It’s thick wooden door bore a carved relief of curling vines that mirrored the yellow flowers climbing the house outside. When I opened it, I was once again struck by the sheer level of wealth poured into even its simple construction.

Stone bins, sealed clay pots, and glass jars filled with various spices lined the shelves and floor in careful order. I couldn’t read the runes etched into the walls, but I could make a few educated guesses about their function. 

From what I could tell, the pantry was insulated, perfectly dry, and designed to preserve supplies far longer than any ordinary cellar. That theory was confirmed when I lifted the lid of a stone bin, and found it filled to the brim with rice that was still in relatively good condition.

I couldn’t help but think of my dad. Something like this would’ve saved him a lifetime of complaints with our old granary back in Wheat Hollow. It had a bad habit of letting in moisture whenever the rains overstayed their welcome, and we’d end up frantically sorting through damp grain to save what we could before it spoiled.

I sighed.

Just keep yourself busy. Bottle it up and keep moving.

Across the main room, through another broad archway, a dining space sat opposite the great stone fireplace.

A modest wooden table occupied the center of the dining room, and it was surrounded by a handful of sturdy chairs that had clearly seen years of frequent use. Near one seat, the tabletop was marred by a cluster of shallow cuts, as if someone had spent a lot of time idly stabbing the the wood with a knife.

Recesses lined the outer wall where one might naturally expect windows to be. It made sense, I supposed; this room was buried underneath the hill after all. Still… it would have been nice to have more natural light come into the home.

As I turned to leave, I noticed a small lever mounted on the wall near one end of the room. Naturally, my curiosity demanded that this lever must be pulled.

With a deep, resonant hum, the sealed recesses began to shift. Mechanisms hidden within the walls stirred to life, and before my eyes, the panels retracted to reveal wide glass windows that opened the dining room to a breathtaking view of the flowered fields blooming west of the property.

Just how much of this house was mechanical in nature? It felt as though I’d stepped straight from a humble farmhouse into some eccentric wizard’s sanctum, except the wizard in question was my uncle, who apparently had a taste for the finer things in life.

Pulling the lever again, I watched as the windows sealed themselves shut, cutting off the picturesque view with quiet precision.

Having seen all there was to see in the dining area, I made my way back into the living room. To my surprise, I noticed a staircase and a door that I must have overlooked earlier. 

To the left of the fireplace, in the corner of the room that shared a wall with the kitchen, a wooden sliding door blended adeptly with the wall around it. When I slid it to the side, a cool draft rose from the darkness below. Judging by the stone steps leading downward, I could only assume it opened into a basement that was hidden away beneath me.

Just beside it, on the adjoining wall, a staircase climbed up and behind the fireplace before curving right and out of sight.

This corner felt like a crossroads, one path descending into the hill’s quiet heart, the other rising toward open air and sunlight.

For now, though… how could I resist the temptation of a descending staircase?

As I made my way down the steps, soft lights flickered to life along the wall, casting a gentle golden glow that guided me into the chamber below.

“Holy shi…” The words fell off my tongue entirely as I looked around the room in stunned silence.

The downstairs of my home was set up much like the Claybrooks’ basement had been… only this was far grander. 

At its center lay a wide, sunken pool with broad stone edges around its perimeter. The basin was empty for now, but like the sink upstairs, I suspected the water could be summoned at a moment’s notice.

I crouched beside the pool, and traced my fingers over several faint markings that had been carved next to the faucet. The instant I brushed the correct symbol, water began to flow; first icy cold, then gradually warming as another rune flared to life.

Just when I thought I’d seen it all, my gaze landed on something that nearly stopped my heart, something I’d only ever heard about in rumors.

An indoor toilet.

Of all the wonders I’d seen today, this was the one that truly broke me.

I wouldn’t have to walk outside in the dark, fearing for my life every time nature called? How was I supposed to handle such luxury?

A toilet… in the safety of my own home… 

Blasphemy.

Naturally, I’d make sure to mention this when I wrote my first letter home. I could already imagine Seth’s reaction when he read about it, and honestly, that alone made it worth writing. 

I smiled at the thought, but the warmth faded quickly as it tugged at emotions I’d been working hard to keep sealed away. 

Finding yet another distraction, I examined a cluster of metal pipes feeding into a slanted trough along the far wall. Above it, a set of drying lines hung beneath metal plates that radiated a steady, gentle heat. A series of beaters and rollers waited inside the trough, humming faintly to life as my fingers brushed across their corresponding runes.

Then it clicked.

My luxury obsessed uncle had built a rune driven laundry system.

Once again, I found myself at a loss for words. The more I saw, the clearer it became that my uncle hadn’t just built a home, he’d engineered a masterpiece.

As I scanned the room in quiet appreciation, a faint door shaped outline in the wall caught my eye. It was almost invisible at first, but the rising steam from the bath drifted toward it, curling along its edges. Once I noticed it, I couldn’t unsee it.

I pushed the table in front of the door aside, and brushed my fingers along the stone. The surface was cool and smooth, but when I pressed a little harder, I felt it shift ever so slightly beneath my hand.

That was all the invitation I needed. I leaned in and gave it a firmer push. There was a soft click, followed by the low grind of stone against stone as part of the wall slid aside.

The door was low to the ground, and I found that I had to crouch down in order to move into the small vaulted chamber inside. Its walls were lined with carved recesses, each holding a glowing core that pulsed with faint, rhythmic light. 

Some of the cores shone bright and steady, while others flickered weakly, their light stuttering like dying embers. Thin metal conduits ran from each recess into the surrounding stone, as the cores channeled raw energy into the home above.

That was when it hit me. Every lamp, every heated pipe, every humming mechanism in the house was fed by these cores. Each one would eventually burn out, and when they did, replacements would have to be found. I had no doubt that cores weren’t cheap, and likely difficult to come by naturally… especially for someone like me who was just starting out on his journey.

It was oddly comforting to know that even the use of runes and cores demanded a price, that balance still existed, even here, in the comforts of my new home. Sooner or later, I’d need to learn which cores powered which systems and adjust accordingly.

Hell, it might even be worth actually taking the time to study how runes work…

Yeah… probably not.

I might make a decent warrior if I trained hard enough, but a scholar? I shook my head at the thought. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be one, I just couldn’t imagine sitting still long enough to learn anything worthwhile.

Absentmindedly, I reached out and rested my hand on one of the fading cores. Its light pulsed weakly beneath my fingers, flickering like the last breath of a candle. The surface was cool, smooth… almost identical to Yahm’s Legacy Stone. 

Beneath its glassy shell, I could feel it, a faint pull of spiritual potential still swirling within. It was nothing compared to Yahm’s stone, of course, but even so, the lingering energy made my skin prickle with its stored potential.

Then an odd thought struck me.

That was when an odd thought struck me. Tentatively, I activated my ability Sow, and focused on the spiritual potential within me, willing it to invest itself within the core. 

The response was immediate.

The dim light inside flared, swelling brighter as if the stone itself were taking a long, desperate breath. I could feel my reservoir draining fast, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

By the time I finally pulled my hand away, the core no longer glimmered faintly like an empty glass. It shone brilliant blue, alive again, bristling with renewed power.

I stared down at it, wideeyed and breathless.

“…What did I just do?”

Skill Unlocked: Restore Potential (Rank 1 : Level 1)- Imparts spiritual potential into a target in order to renew depleted resources. This skill amplifies a target’s attributes with a slow, steady current of spiritual energy, gradually rejuvenating their reserves. The process is slow, and the cost of conversion is high. The skill may also be used to invest spiritual energy into reservoirs capable of holding it. Efficiency of conversion scales with the user’s SPIRIT attribute and mastery of the skill.

I placed the core back onto its pedestal, and the light within immediately stirred to life, resuming whatever function they had been performing before being restored.

While it was clear the core was now filled with renewed energy, I was shocked to find my own reservoir was nearly empty. My stored potential had plummeted to barely a quarter of what it had been before acquiring the skill.

Something tells me that skill might be ridiculously coveted by artificers who spend most of their time working with such materials. For the right price, I bet I could make a fair bit of coin if I spent time around the craftsmen of the city. 

As I pondered the implications of this new skill, I made my way out of the core room, and resealed the door. I wanted to refill as many of the cores as I could, but I didn’t want to use up all of my potential, just in case something terrible happened before the day was over. 

So, I hurried back up the stairs to the living room, and turned toward the steps that led up behind the fireplace.

At the top of the surprisingly steep staircase was a small landing, just large enough for three people to stand comfortably. 

There, two doors awaited me, one to the left and another to the right. I figured the bedroom with the large window was to the right, so naturally, I tried the left door first.

Locked.

I jiggled the handle a few times, but the door still wouldn’t budge.

Not sure what else to do, I turned, and tested the door that had been to my right. When I tried its handle, it turned easily, and the door to the bedroom swung open invitingly.

The bedroom beyond was both grand and humble in its design. On the right side of the room, a broad bed sat bare of comfort, stripped to its frame and mattress. It wasn’t stuffed with straw like the one I’d had back home, this one was built for the sole purpose of comfort and rest. 

My father would’ve called it a waste of good coin, but standing here, I couldn’t help but think how good it will feel to finally sleep without waking to the crunch of dry reeds.

After a brief search, I was pleased to find that its linens and quilts for the mattress had been neatly folded away in the dark oak chest at the foot of the bed. 

On the far side of the room, a sturdy armoire carved from the same timber as the chest, took up most of the far wall. Upon opening it, I was surprised to find that a few neatly folded shirts and trousers hung inside, and they looked as if they were about my size. 

I took a moment to try on one of the shirts on, and found that though it fit my frame, my shoulders were not yet broad enough to fill it out completely. I felt like a child trying on my father’s clothes, like I was simply pretending to be someone I was not… yet. 

As I picked throught the clothes, I found a few drawers that lined the inside of the armoire, so naturally, I began to rifle through them in hopes to find some forgotten treasure. To my great delight, I did find a small leather pouch, which felt heavy with the weight of coin. 

My smile only widened as I emptied its contents into my palm: three gold coins, five silver, and a small iron key. Oddly enough, it was the key that held my attention more than the money. Something about its weight and worn edges felt significant.

Huh… I wonder if this key is for the locked door? 

Before rushing off to satisfy my curiousity, I took a moment to finish exploring the room I was already in. 

On the wall opposite the bed, two large sliding doors closed the space off from the world outside. Above them, a circular window let in soft natural light, filling the room with quiet warmth and calm.

I stepped forward and unlatched the doors, sliding them open in opposite directions. A cool breath of air invited itself inside, stirring the fine layer of dust that had gathered over the years.

Beyond the threshold, a small wooden platform waited, framed by sturdy beams and a simple railing. Two chairs sat at opposite ends of the balcony, ready and waiting for someone to claim them. 

As I stepped outside, the valley stretched endlessly before me. The lake below gleamed like glass, reflecting the pale sky. Fields of green and gold rippled in the breeze, and beyond them, the mountains stood like silent sentinels watching over it all.

I rested a hand on the railing, letting the stillness of the moment wash over me as a question I’d been avoiding since I arrived rose quietly to the surface.

Why would he leave?

Until now, I’d assumed my uncle was alive somewhere, chasing the same wanderlust that had carried him away from the farm all those years ago. Everything in my life had changed so quickly, it had been barely more than a week, and I hadn’t even stopped to ask direct questions about where he’d gone.

Should I have pursued answers? Possibly. But if he wanted me to know, or if I needed to know, I imagine he would’ve told me. He’d offered a gift, and I’d accepted it. Even his letter had withheld his title. It had simply said “redacted.” I was thankful, and I had convinced myself that whatever he was up to was really none of my business. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered that a hero like my uncle might be someone in need of saving. He was Sir Lucian Garner, after all…

But after meeting the kind people of the valley, seeing its beauty, and exploring the love he’d poured into this home… I couldn’t imagine walking away from it all. No rational being  would abandon something like this. You could travel for a while, sure… but not forever. Not from this.

The question lingered, and the peace I’d felt moments before soured. 

I turned away from the idyllic view and walked purposefully back toward the locked door at the top of the stairs. When I reached it, I pulled the iron key from my pocket and slid it into the lock.

Somehow, I already knew it would fit.

The key turned, producing a quiet click that echoed louder than it should have in the stillness of the house.

I hesitated, my hand resting on the door’s handle. For reasons I couldn’t explain, a heaviness settled over me; a grief so tangible it seemed to cling to the door itself, silently pleading for me to leave it closed.

And yet… I couldn’t walk away.