The will
The lawyer's office was of the standard type: musty law reports; mahogany surfaces; a whiff of furniture polish.
They waited. Some perched forward hopefully; others were contained, unwilling to display eagerness. The young man lit his pipe indifferently. He didn't expect much.
Grand houses went to prodigal sons; a valuable timepiece, to a valued servant. Finally! "To my dear friend and archaic-language enthusiast..."
A manuscript was passed over, bound in red leather. Inside, on leaves snapping with age, were faded letters, confounding but enticing.
He sighed. He'd just enlisted. Its secrets would be unraveled in the trenches...or, perhaps, never.
Notes: A drabble written last year for the subject's birthday and for the OSA drabble challenge "Inheritance."