The ever calm head of the house of Rochen is currently experiencing a slight personal crisis. Sweat glisten on his balding head and scattered parchments, letters, and business deals are all over his work table yet none of them are currently related to the little issue he is having. The tea had already gone cold and he wiped away the dusty grim building up on his glasses.
It is almost her 18th birthday. The little runt he took in years ago is almost gone from his side but there is no suitors that stop by, no one to offer her any hidden inheritance and worse of all she is not even fit to throw away to train with the knight squad. For all intent and purposes Avile will be a thorn in his flesh and unless something is to be done quickly he will be force to continue putting up with her for as long as she remains a lady.
His money. His house and her own schooling paid for by him for all those servants and tutoring she had received over the years. He would not have mind it so much had she actually done something to bring fame to the family but all she had accomplished for the 9 years she has been with the family nothing but sickness and maladies each bringing with them more bills and visits to the doctor.
Bless his wife, the strongest woman he had ever seen enduring all that had happened and in fact he suspect the great wife of his had actually dote on the girl.
He wipes away the furious anger forming on his brow but it was not long before he starts panicking once more on what to do. Several sharp knocks on the door comes by and in enters Lady Rochen, his wife and his pillar of support with her practiced hands carrying along a tray of tea. She sense trouble from the look of his face.
"Alright El, what seems to be the problem this time." He hastily clears away the documents on his table and puts them away into drawers, cabinets, or anything within reach.
"Is it 5 already Agnus? My how time passes on so fast. I was just pondering about a certain letter a business associate of mine, if all works well we might get closer to the table of 30." But he knows, she knows. Agnus may be his second wife after Kim fell down the stairs and, snapped her neck, but she does pay attention to the work he does.
"Table of 30, you've always been obsessing over it ever since the day I married you. But what's it going to bring to us besides more responsibilities and hardship? Your sons James and Matthew already had to offer their arms to serve the She, I don't suppose you plan that sort of fate for all of us now." The words did reach into the Kelam Rochen's mind, it was heard, it was interpreted, but it was cast away with a wave of his hand as manic speech and thoughts overtakes him once more.
"That's where you are wrong my dear. The closer we get to the circle of 9 the less work our family needs to do for the She, all it takes is more time and sacrifices but soon! Soon I assure you we won't have to life another finger doing the work of the servant and tending to menial tasks."
Agnus looks away, the tea was a fine blend she had procured from a travelling merchant claiming it had come from the far east and in his claim he even mentioned that it had come as far as Sonya. While she could not verify it herself [and neither does her butler who was with her at that time] she does admit, the tea was excellent. She pours a cup and move everything off the tray. "Well you do what you think needs doing but don't you forget that Avile birthday is coming up soon. Her 18th birthday, felt like it was yesterday she came into our house. Such a sweet girl."
He had almost forgotten, but of course. "Yes, really makes you think how much time had passed. Well dear if you have nothing else to do I have these to attend to." The stacks of document begs for attention, the ones in the drawer silently lament their fate. Like a still living person stuck inside a coffin wanting to be free.
Agnus gives a look but he was not quite sure what it mean, it could be concern but it feels like it was a pitying stare. Wordlessly she left the room leaving him alone once more. He heaves a deep sigh as he thinks again on how to deal with the girl but at the corner of his eye a letter sticks out. Unlike the other letters on his table that are worn with time and shows marks done by the handling on its way here this one however is in pristine condition and even sealed. He has many other work but curiosity takes the better of him and reach out and mutter to himself the name of the sender.
"Lord Rags? Who in the name of the She is him? Headmaster of the School of Swords, what could he possibly want." A fine letter opener knife was fetch somewhere deep in the drawers and he slowly pries the seal off. What the letter present to him was a solution to all of his current problem.