The first few hours at the house were filled with what seemed an unending bustle, as his handful of servants began putting the house into proper shape – taking down and storing away the shutters to admit light into the rooms, removing the muslin coverings from furniture, dusting, cleaning, carrying in supplies they'd brought along from the carts and seeing everything put away where it belonged.

He had only a very few servants and guards. Only one had he selected for himself – the woman Martha, who had been cleaning his rooms in Starkhaven for some time. He liked and trusted her, and she was of an age where she was not adverse to retiring from life at the castle to make her home in a smaller establishment. She had, she told him, been born and raised in a small village much like Brynhir; living again in such a place would be no hardship. Especially since he was making her his housekeeper, a position of some authority.

In addition to Martha he had a cook, a trained maid, a groom with enough experience to act as a stable-master for him, and a pair of guards. The estate itself already had a steward who had been looking after the running of it, and he had a letter from Sebastian instructing the man to continue in that capacity for Fenris, which he sent down to the village with his youngest guard, Ilys, along with a request for the Steward and the village head to attend on him the next morning. Any further help he needed could be hired from the village itself, and trained up as needed. The cook in particular had already made it clear that while he was willing to do without help initially, he would want a pair of scullions hired as soon as was feasible.

His servants wouldn't allow him to do any of the cleaning or unloading, so Fenris went out to the stables, whistling for Arianblaidd as he crossed the yard. The grey-dappled stallion came running into sight before he was even halfway there, pale cream-coloured mane and tail rippling as he came straight to him, the horse only slowing as he drew near the edge of the grass and moved out onto the flagstone yard. Fenris stopped for a moment to wait for the stallion to reach him, then caressed Ari's nose and scratched his poll, whispering softly to him, before continuing on to the stable, the stallion following docilely along behind him like a dog at heel.

The groom was busy brushing down the cart-horses, but at a question from Fenris pointed out where he'd stabled Aerynos, Fenris' black gelding, in one of the largest stalls. He'd also put down a bedding of straw in the stall beside it, and Fenris led Ari there, then spent some time grooming both of them, an activity he invariably found relaxing. After that was done he took a slow stroll around the grounds of the house. The view down the vineyard-covered escarpment and across the farm-covered plains to either side of the river below was spectacular. He wondered how much of what he could see was his; he had a map that Sebastian had given him, that showed the extents of the estate. He'd have to dig it out later and try to figure out how its borders matched up with the land.

He went back indoors, and found a slightly flustered-looking Martha looking for him to let him know that the evening meal was ready. He followed her to the dining room, and was surprised to find only a single place had been set. As used as he was to the easy camaraderie of dining with Sebastian, Anders and Zevran, it felt very strange to be eating on his own, and he found himself missing Zevran more than ever. After the meal he went to the library, and spent some time in studying the titles on the books there. It seemed to be as eclectic a collection of subjects as he'd seen in Sebastian's own library in Starkhaven, though on a much smaller scale, the room being only perhaps one quarter of the size of the library in the palace.

He smiled when he found a near-complete set of Brother Genitivi's travelogues on the shelves, selected one he hadn't read yet, and retired upstairs to his bedroom with it. The room had been cleaned, the bed remade with clean sheets, somewhat wrinkled from long storage and smelling of cedar. The few belongings he'd brought with him – some changes of clothing, toiletries and the like – had all been put away in the appropriate places. He stripped off his familiar old armour and hung it up neatly on an armour stand in one corner of the room, then pulled on a linen nightshirt and climbed into bed.

He lay awake for some time, missing Zevran, imagining what comments the other elf might have had to make about the place, the people, the day. He rather suspected that 'missing Zevran' was going to be a common theme of his visit here.


It was interesting and strange to wake the next morning in this new place, to lie there in bed and look around the large, well-furnished room and think that this was his. His room; his furniture; his house and grounds and estate. Not loaned, not squatted in, but his.

Fenris rose and padded bare-foot into the bathing chamber. The cistern had yet to be refilled, but a servant had filled the water jug on the wash stand, and he took a brief sponge-bath before dressing for the day. Not in his armour, but in simple, well-made clothing – close-fitting leggings dyed a dark blue, a loose tunic of pale blue silk with a touch of silver embroidery around the neck and cuffs. He had a signet ring now, as well, ordered crafted for him by Sebastian; white-gold, with a dark blue stone set in it, the flat face incised with a large, interlaced F and B, and a curl of grape vine, to signify the vineyards of his estate. He didn't like wearing it on his finger; it wouldn't fit easily under his gauntlets, and he didn't like the feel of it pressing against the fine lines of lyrium etched down the length of his fingers. He wore it on a chain around his neck instead.

He went downstairs, and had breakfast, again eating alone in the dining room. That bothered him... he hadn't liked eating alone the night before, and he liked it even less this morning. He would, he decided, have to make some changes. But before he could give thought to how to go about that, the maid came in to inform him that the steward and the village head had arrived to see him.

"Thank you," he said. "Show them to the office, and tell them I'll be with them shortly."

"Yes, ser," she said, dipped him a nervous little bow, and hurried off.

He quickly ate the last few bites of his breakfast, took a moment to make sure his clothing was clean and neat, then headed off to the office as well. The two men were standing waiting; it was easy to tell at a glance which was which. The steward was a middle-aged man, well-dressed in heavy-wearing plain brown leggings, brown leather boots, and a cream shirt; he was plump and pale of skin, with a pleasant smile, his hair trimmed in a neat but unflattering bowl cut. The village head was older, grey-haired and bent-shouldered, his skin darkened by sunshine, his simple clothes of undyed cloth – leggings and a baggy tunic, smocked at the shoulders, wearing simple sandals. Fenris would have thought them little better than work clothes, had he not spotted the heavy embroidery along the hems and cuffs and neck opening, done in thread of the same undyed colour. Embroidery took time and labour to create; they were good clothes, despite their simple appearance.

Fenris concealed a smile at the looks of surprise on their faces; apparently the guard he'd sent with the message had not thought to mention to them that he was an elf, not a human. "Good morning," he said, and gave them a shallow bow of greeting in return to their own hasty and somewhat deeper ones. "I am Fenris, the new Lord of Brynhir. Might I know your names?"

"Err... Geoffrey Aylkeep, ser," the steward hastily answered, then gestured at the villager. "And this is Wilm Thresher."

Fenris nodded, then gestured at the nearby chairs. "Please, be seated," he invited them, and walked around the desk to sit down in his own chair. "I won't keep either of you long. I merely wanted to introduce myself to both of you and let you know that Brynhir is once again occupied. I will not be here for very long; this is a short visit so that I can see the estate, settle some servants here to care for the house in my absence, and make arrangements regarding restocking the house so that it is ready for any future visits I make. I will be making my home in Starkhaven most of the year."

Geoffrey nodded. "Of course. We can begin sending supplies up from the village later today, at least of what is produced locally. Some things will need to be ordered in from other locations; do you have any particular requirements, or staff I should consult with about what will need stocking?"

Fenris frowned. "I... am unsure. I have a housekeeper and a cook, but my housekeeper is inexperienced in her role."

"Then with your permission I will consult with the cook, use my own initiative, and keep your housekeeper informed."

"That sounds reasonable," Fenris agreed, then glanced toward Wilm. "I am interested in seeing what I can of the estate while I am here, particularly the vineyards and the winery, though I am also interested in seeing whatever else is produced on the estate."

Geoffrey nodded again. "Either Wilm or I can guide you on that. I can better explain the financial side of things, where it's something that has some direct effect on the earnings of the estate, and Wilm would be better at explaining the actual work involved."

That drew a very slight smile from the older man, who so far had remained silent. "Aye, I'm better at the how, and he's better at the why-for," he said calmly, with a touch of humour lighting his eyes.

"For now I am more interested in the what and how," Fenris said. "Once I am familiar with that I will be interested in hearing about what revenues it brings in."

"In that case, why don't we have Wilm start taking you around to see everything while I go meet your staff and begin sorting out what supplies you require?" Geoffrey suggested.

Fenris nodded. "That is acceptable. I am ready now, unless there is anything else that needs to be discussed first?"

Geoffrey shook his head. "Not right away. I will need you to sign some authorizations and so on for me to continue as the steward here, but I'll have to prepare the paperwork first. It will be a day or two until that is ready."

Fenris rang for the maid, and was relieved when Martha herself answered the summons. He quickly introduced her to the steward, and once they'd been sent off to deal with the question of supplies, led Wilm out of his office and back to the front hallway. "Wait here," he said, uncertain as to how polite he could or should be with the man.

He went upstairs to his room, and hesitated for a moment over his sword, then reluctantly decided that walking around with a blade taller than he was strapped to his back was hardly likely to inspire trust among the villagers. He settled for a long belt knife instead, a gift from Zevran, a lovely bit of Dalish work, the blade of ironbark and the handle carved of halla horn. He fastened a light cloak around his shoulders, and went back downstairs. His two guards were waiting in the front hallway; he had not sent for them, but as soon as he saw them he realized that he should have. "Stannard, Ilys," he said, nodding to the two men in turn. "We're going to tour the estate."

"Yes, ser," they both answered, coming to attention briefly before falling in behind him.

He turned to Wilm and smiled slightly. "I am ready," he said.

The villager nodded. "Aye, ser... do you have any preferences as to what you see first?"

"Hmm. The village itself, I suppose. And then the vineyards and winery. I am greatly interested in wine," he said, smile widening.

Wilm nodded, and led the way out.