Tristitiam Tollens

Ðursdâ, the 5th of Winnímonað in the year 267

The door swung open with a near-inaudible creak, and warm sunlight flooded the back garden. William stepped through, pausing to let the gentle breeze play with his hair before glancing back at the Mikaelson children emerging behind him.

They stopped dead in the doorway.

Anna’s hand flew to her mouth. Alexi’s eyes went wide, darting from the transformed façade to William and back again. Nikolai simply stared, his young face slack with wonder.

Where dull grey stone had sagged under years of neglect, warm sandy-coloured blocks now stood proud and solid. The frosted windows caught the sunlight, making them shimmer like ice on a winter morning. Rugged brown timber framed the new roof, not patched, not mended, but new, extending beyond the stonework in a way that made the whole structure look larger, stronger.

“That’s... that’s our house?” Nikolai whispered.

The old back door with its rotting frame had vanished entirely. In its place stood a sleek black door with a large frosted glass window that reflected their astonished faces back at them.

Anna took a tentative step forward, then another, her hand reaching out to touch the warm stone. “It’s real,” she breathed. “It’s actually real.”

Alexi swallowed hard, his throat working. He was trying to maintain his composure, trying to be the man of the family, but his voice cracked when he spoke. “My lord, this is... I don’t have words.”

“Then don’t use them yet,” William said with a warm smile. “Come. See the rest.”

He led them across the threshold into the kitchen, and the children’s gasps echoed off the walls.

The space had doubled, no, tripled, in size. Where the cramped cooking area had barely fit two people, a magnificent iron cooker now gleamed beside a long wooden counter. A proper sink sat beneath the window, and when William turned a brass handle, clear water gushed from the tap.

“Water,” Anna said faintly. “Inside. Just... just like that?”

“Just like that,” William confirmed. “No more hauling buckets from the pump.”

Nikolai darted forward and stuck his hand under the stream, laughing as the cold water splashed over his fingers. “It’s like magic!”

“Not magic,” William said. “Just... clever building. Like a water wheel at a mill, but smaller. Hidden in the walls.”

The boy’s eyes went even wider. “In the walls?”

Above them, electric lights cast a warm, steady glow across the room, no flickering, no smoke, no need for constant tending. Anna stared up at them, transfixed.

“Those lights,” she said slowly. “They’re not candles. They’re not oil lamps. What are they?”

“Think of them like... captured lightning,” William said, choosing his words carefully. “Very small, very safe lightning, held in glass. The light comes from something called electricity, it flows like water through special paths in the walls, but you can’t see it or touch it.”

Alexi frowned, trying to understand. “Like... like the current in a river? But for light instead of water?”

“Exactly like that,” William said, pleased. “Very good.”

The young man straightened slightly, pride flickering across his features despite his obvious bewilderment.

William guided them through the rest of the ground floor. In the new washroom, Nikolai pressed the lever on the toilet and jumped back when water swirled and vanished with a rush. Anna ran her fingers along the smooth white basin, marvelling at how the water appeared with just a turn of the tap.

“We had to go outside before,” she said quietly. “Even in winter. Even when Mama was sick.”

“Not anymore,” William said.

The dining room held a sturdy table and chairs, simple but well-made and new. The lounge had soft furniture that gave slightly when Nikolai experimentally poked it, and thick curtains that Anna immediately went to touch, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

“This is finer than anything at the manor,” she murmured. “Even the Lord of the Nine didn’t have curtains this nice in the servants’ quarters.”

William’s attention sharpened. “The manor?”

“Oh!” Anna’s face lit up with memory. “I worked there for a while. Me and Mama both did, about a year back. It’s through the woodland, maybe half an hour’s walk. Beautiful place, three stories, with proper stairs and everything. We cleaned and cooked for the Lord of the Nine.”

“The Lord of the Nine?” William kept his tone casual, curious.

“That’s what everyone calls him,” Alexi said. “Don’t know his real name. He’s some kind of nobleman, I think. Rich, anyway. Had visitors sometimes, important-looking folk. But he hasn’t been back in months. The whole place is shut up now.”

“We hoped he’d return,” Anna added wistfully. “The pay was good. Better than anything else around here. And the house...” She smiled. “It had stairs, just like this. I used to imagine what it’d be like to have stairs in our own home.”

William filed the information away, his mind already turning. A manor. A Lord of the Nine. Shut up for months. And Madeline’s dream of stairs, now granted.

“Well,” he said, gesturing toward the front of the house, “let me show you the stairs you have now.”

They followed him to the entrance hall, and all three children stopped again, staring upward.

A graceful staircase curved up to the right, its bannister smooth and polished, each step solid and even. Sunlight from a high window painted golden stripes across the wood.

“There’s an upstairs?” Nikolai’s voice was barely a whisper.

“There is,” William said. “And each of you has your own room.”

The silence that followed was profound.

Then Nikolai let out a whoop and bolted up the stairs, his feet thundering on the wood. Anna followed more slowly, one hand trailing along the bannister as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real. Alexi brought up the rear, his expression caught between joy and something that looked almost like grief.

At the top, William pointed to the doors. “This one, closest to the stairs, is your mother’s room. Anna, yours is next to hers. Nikolai, that one at the end is yours. And Alexi, yours is beside your brother’s.”

The children scattered, each disappearing into their new spaces. William heard gasps, exclamations, and the creak of bed frames being tested. He leaned against the bannister and waited, a small smile playing at his lips.

Perhaps we did go a bit overboard, he thought. But seeing their faces...

Anna emerged first, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “There’s a real bed,” she said. “With a mattress. And blankets. And a window with curtains.”

Nikolai tumbled out next, practically vibrating with excitement. “I got a bed too! And there’s a chest for my things! I don’t got many things, but now I got a place for ‘em!”

Alexi was the last to appear. He stood in his doorway for a long moment, just looking at William. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.

“You didn’t have to do this. Any of it. We’re nobody. Just... just common folk. Workers. Why would you...?” He trailed off, unable to finish.

William straightened, his expression growing serious. “Because you’re people, Alexi. You and your family. That’s reason enough.”

“But we can’t pay you back. Not ever. This must’ve cost, “

“I’m not asking you to pay me back,” William said firmly. “This isn’t a debt. It’s a gift. And gifts don’t come with strings attached.”

Anna wiped at her eyes. “Mama’s going to cry when she sees this. She’s going to cry so much.”

“Happy tears, I hope,” William said gently.

“The happiest,” Anna confirmed.

William gestured for them to gather closer. “Now, there are some things you need to understand about your new home. Some of what we’ve installed is... advanced. Complicated. Like those lights.”

“The captured lightning,” Nikolai said eagerly.

“Yes. The electricity flows through the walls, like we discussed. It comes from something called a generator, think of it like a very clever mill that turns sunlight, rain and wind into power for the lights and the water pump. It’s stored in special containers in the loft.”

He let that sink in before continuing, his tone growing more serious.

“But electricity can be dangerous if you’re not careful. It’s like fire, useful, but it can hurt you if you misuse it. So I need you to promise me something: don’t touch the generator. Don’t open the storage containers. Don’t play with any wires you might see. And if something stops working, don’t try to fix it yourself. Come get one of my people, and we’ll help.”

All three children nodded solemnly.

“We’ll be careful,” Alexi said. “I promise. We won’t mess anything up.”

“I know you won’t,” William said. “And we’re going to teach you how everything works. My team will come by regularly to show you how to use the cooker safely, how to maintain the water system, all of it. You’ll learn. But for now,... enjoy it. This is your home.”

Nikolai’s eyes were shining. “Thank you, Lord William. Thank you so much.”

“You’ve given us more than we ever dreamed of,” Anna added, her voice thick with emotion. “More than we thought possible.”

Alexi stepped forward and, after a moment’s hesitation, extended his hand. William took it, and the young man’s grip was firm despite the tremor in his fingers.

“I won’t forget this,” Alexi said quietly. “What you’ve done for us. For Mama. I’ll make sure we’re worthy of it.”

“You already are,” William assured him.

A sound from below made them all turn. Footsteps on the stairs, slow, careful, accompanied by a woman’s laboured breathing.

“Mama!” Anna rushed to the top of the stairs.

Madeline appeared, one hand gripping the bannister, the other supported by Nurse Elspeth. She was pale, her movements careful, but her eyes were bright as she took in the sight of her children gathered at the top of the stairs.

“My babies,” she whispered. Then her gaze travelled past them, taking in the hallway, the doors, the light streaming through the windows. “Oh. Oh, my...”

She took another step, then another, her breathing ragged but determined. When she reached the top, she stood swaying slightly, staring around in wonder.

“Me lord,” she said, her voice barely more than a rasp. “I am... I am pleased... with what you have... given me... and my children.”

William bowed slightly. “Madeline, it’s my honour. I’m happy you’re well enough to come home.”

Her children clustered around her, supporting her, their faces glowing with relief and joy. Madeline’s eyes filled with tears.

“I dreamed,” she said slowly, each word an effort. “I dreamed... about having stairs about a real home. I thought... I thought it was just... just a dream.”

“It’s real, Mama,” Anna said, squeezing her hand. “It’s all real.”

“Come,” Nurse Elspeth said gently. “Let’s get you to your room. You need to rest.”

As they guided Madeline toward her door, she kept looking around, drinking in every detail. When they reached her room, and she saw the bed, a real bed, with clean linens and pillows, she let out a soft sob.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking back at William. “Thank you.”

The door closed softly behind them, and the three children stood in the hallway, looking at each other and then at William.

“She’s really home,” Nikolai said wonderingly. “She’s really going to be okay.”

“She is,” William confirmed. “She’ll need time to recover fully, but yes. She’s going to be fine.”

Anna wiped at her eyes again. “I can’t believe this is happening. Any of it.”

“Believe it,” William said with a smile. “Now, I’m curious about something you mentioned earlier, Anna. This manor where you worked, tell me more about it.”

Anna’s expression brightened despite her tears. “Oh, it’s a beautiful place! Stone and timber, like this house, but much bigger. Three full stories, and the grounds go on forever. Gardens and stables and everything.”

“And you said the Lord of the Nine hasn’t been there in some time?”

“Not since last autumn,” Alexi said. “The whole staff was let go. Some folks say he went travelling. Others say he’s dead. Nobody really knows.”

“We only saw him a few times,” Anna added. “He kept to himself mostly. Had visitors sometimes, fancy folk in carriages. But he never talked to us servants much. Just gave orders through the head of house.”

William nodded thoughtfully. “And the manor is just through the woodland?”

“Yes, my lord. Maybe half an hour’s walk, as I said. You can’t miss it, there’s a long drive lined with old trees.”

The same manor from Madeline’s dream, William thought. It has to be. The stairs, the layout... too much of a coincidence.

“Interesting,” he said aloud. “Well, perhaps we’ll investigate it another time. For now, why don’t you three explore your new home some more? Get comfortable. This is your space now.”

The children needed no further encouragement. They scattered again, and William could hear them exclaiming over discoveries, a mirror in Anna’s room, a shelf in Nikolai’s, the view from Alexi’s window.

William descended the stairs and made his way to the living room. The furniture here was simple but comfortable: a couch, two chairs, and a low table. He approached the frosted window and pressed his fingertip to the corner. The frost swirled away like morning mist, revealing the garden beyond bathed in afternoon sunlight.

He sank into the couch, letting his mind work through what he’d learned.

The Lord of the Nine. A manor that’s been empty for months. Anna and Madeline both worked there. And now Madeline dreams of that same manor, dreams of being attacked there, of seeing her own death.

It’s all connected. It has to be.

He was still contemplating when a shadow passed across the window. Heavy footsteps approached the front door, followed by an aggressive pounding that made the frame rattle.

William rose and moved to the window, touching the corner again to keep it clear. Through the glass, he could see a balding man in flowing black robes, a worn leather-bound book clutched in one hand. The man’s face was twisted with anger as he pounded on the door again.

Priest Damyon, William thought, recognising him from the records. Right on schedule.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs inside the house. “Coming!” Alexi called.

William positioned himself where he could observe but not be immediately seen. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Alexi opened the door, and Priest Damyon surged forward like a storm breaking.

“Alexi!” the priest snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “How dare your family defy me! I am your priest! I authorise all changes to homes in this parish! These modifications…” he gestured wildly at the renovated house, “are the work of Draconis! Heresy! Where is the tithe you owe? Where is your mother?”

Before Alexi could respond, Damyon’s hand shot out and seized the young man by the throat, slamming him back against the doorframe.

“You will answer me, boy! You will, “

“Unhand him at once.”

William’s voice cut through the air like a blade, calm but carrying absolute authority. He stepped into view, and something in his presence, something in the way the light seemed to gather around him, made Damyon’s grip falter.

“Priest Damyon,” William continued, his tone measured but unyielding. “Release him. Now.”

The priest’s hand dropped, and Alexi stumbled back, gasping and rubbing his throat.

“Who are you to…” Damyon began, but William cut him off.

“You will remove yourself from this threshold. You will step back. And you will explain yourself.”

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner!” Damyon’s face flushed purple. “I am the priest of this parish! I have the right, the divine right, to oversee all matters of…”

“You have no such right,” William said flatly. “Not in law, and not in scripture.”

Damyon’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Then: “You... you cannot possibly know the sacred words! Only the priesthood interprets the will of Kanum!”

William took a step forward, and Damyon instinctively retreated.

“Does Kanum not say,” William quoted, his voice taking on a formal cadence, “‘The priest shall shine like a beacon of my glory, reflecting it onto my people’? Tell me, Priest Damyon, is this how you reflect glory? By choking young men? By demanding bribes for basic improvements to their homes?”

“They are not bribes! They are tithes! Offerings to….”

“‘My words are truth, marked on the pages,’” William continued, overriding him. “‘My servants, the priests, protect these pages and keep them holy. Take them and spread them far and wide.’ Spread them, Damyon. Not hoard them. Not twist them to your own purposes.”

The priest’s face had gone from purple to white. “You... you cannot use the holy words against me! I am the guardian! I am….”

“You are a parish priest,” William said, his voice dropping to something cold and dangerous. “A shepherd who has forgotten his flock. You claim authority over these people’s homes? Show me the law. Show me the scripture. Because I have read both, and neither grants you what you claim.”

Damyon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping on dry land.

“Your ‘authority’ is nothing but an arbitrary whim,” William continued. “You’ve convinced these people that they need your permission for everything, that they owe you payment for the privilege of improving their own lives. That’s not the priesthood. That’s extortion.”

A faint glow began to emanate from William, nothing dramatic, just a subtle radiance that made the shadows around him seem deeper by contrast. Damyon took another step back, his eyes widening.

“I am a messenger of Kanum,” William said quietly. “My authority supersedes yours in every possible way. And I will not tolerate this abuse.”

“A messenger?” Damyon’s voice cracked. “You think you’re helping them? You think your gifts are kindness? It starts with one little improvement, then another, and before they know it, they won’t need the priesthood anymore! They won’t need the nobility! They won’t even need Kanum!”

For the first time, William’s expression softened slightly. Beneath the priest’s bluster and cruelty, he could sense genuine fear, the terror of a man watching his entire worldview crumble.

“That’s not how faith works,” William said, more gently now. “Real faith doesn’t require people to be kept ignorant and desperate. Real faith grows stronger when people are healthy, educated, and free to choose.”

“You’re destroying everything!” Damyon’s voice rose to a near-shriek. “The order, the structure, the way things have always been.”

“The way things have always been,” William interrupted, “is not the same as the way things should be. And if your faith cannot survive people having clean water and warm homes, then perhaps it’s not faith at all. Perhaps it’s just control.”

Damyon staggered back another step, his face working through a dozen emotions at once: rage, fear, confusion, and desperation.

“If you have complaints about my presence here,” William said, “take them to Prince Vladimir. He’s the one who requested my assistance. I’m here on his authority, investigating the attacks that have plagued this region. Everything I do is within my mandate.”

He paused, then added, “And if you lay hands on Alexi, or anyone else in this family, again, you’ll answer to me personally. Do you understand?”

Damyon opened his mouth, closed it, then turned and fled, his robes billowing behind him as he hurried down the path.

William watched him go, then turned to Alexi, who was still rubbing his throat.

“Are you all right?”

Alexi nodded shakily. “Yes, my lord. Thank you. He’s... he’s never been that bad before.”

“He’s frightened,” William said. “Frightened people lash out. But that doesn’t excuse what he did.” He studied the young man’s face. “Does he do this often? Demand payment for things? Threaten people?”

“Everyone pays the tithe,” Alexi said quietly. “It’s just... how things are. If you don’t pay, bad things happen. Your crops fail, or you get sick, or...” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“Or the priest makes sure bad things happen,” William finished. “Yes. I’ve seen it before.”

Anna and Nikolai had appeared at the top of the stairs, drawn by the commotion. They looked frightened.

“It’s all right,” William called up to them. “Everything’s fine. Priest Damyon won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Is he going to curse us?” Nikolai asked in a small voice.

“No,” William said firmly. “He has no such power. And even if he did, I wouldn’t allow it.”

He turned back to Alexi. “I want you to know something. Not all priests are like Damyon. Most of them are good people who genuinely want to help others. But like any group, there are some who abuse their position. Damyon is one of those.”

“You really are a messenger of Kanum, aren’t you?” Alexi said wonderingly. “The way you spoke to him, the way you knew the scriptures...”

William smiled. “I’m many things. But yes, I serve the divine. And part of that service is standing against those who would use faith as a weapon.”

He glanced back toward the door, then at the three children watching him with a mixture of awe and relief.

“Go on,” he said gently. “Enjoy your home. If Damyon returns and causes trouble, come find me immediately. But I don’t think he will. Not after today.”

As the children retreated back upstairs, William made his way to the kitchen, where he found Alaric sitting at the new table with a cup of tea.

“Alaric,” William said brightly. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

Alaric looked up, immediately wary. “What did you do?”

“Nothing yet. But I need you to have the communication team summon the parish priests and the Provincial Priests. I think it’s time we had a conversation about proper conduct and the actual limits of ecclesiastical authority.”

Alaric set down his cup with a sigh. “William. Please tell me you’re not planning to start a war with the priesthood over one bad encounter.”

“Of course not,” William said, pulling out a chair. “I’m planning to start a dialogue. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” Alaric muttered. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you just humiliated a parish priest and are now planning to summon his superiors to lecture them about their jobs.”

“I didn’t humiliate him. I corrected him. And yes, I want to speak with the provincial leadership. Not to lecture them, but to establish some ground rules. These people deserve better than what they’re getting.”

Alaric rubbed his temples. “We’re here to investigate an incident, not reform the entire religious structure of the province.”

“Why can’t we do both?” William asked reasonably. “We have the resources. We have the authority. And we have a responsibility to help where we can.”

“Because your uncle is watching,” Alaric said bluntly. “Edmund already dislikes the Magisterium. He voted against us in the Council. If you start making waves here, changing things, challenging local authorities, he’s going to use it against us.”

William waved a dismissive hand. “Edmund is always going to find something to complain about. That’s his nature. But we can’t let his disapproval paralyse us.”

“It’s not just Edmund,” Alaric pressed. “It’s the whole conservative faction of the Council. They’re looking for any excuse to curtail our operations, to limit our mandate. If we give them ammunition, “

“Then we give them ammunition,” William said firmly. “Alaric, you’re the Supreme Magister. Your mandate is to promote the Magisterium’s mission throughout the known worlds. That includes helping people, establishing better systems, and yes, sometimes challenging corrupt authorities. That’s literally what we’re supposed to do.”

Alaric was quiet for a moment, staring into his tea. “I know,” he said finally. “I know that’s our mission. And I love it, I love what we do, the lives we change. But I also worry about our security. About what happens if the Council decides we’ve overstepped.”

“The Council is a bureaucratic nightmare,” William said. “Half of them can’t agree on what day it is, let alone on complex policy matters. And more than half support us. It’s only the ones whose power we threaten who oppose us.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Alaric said. “The ones who oppose us are the ones with the most to lose. They’re dangerous.”

William’s expression softened. “I understand your concern. I do. But if we stop every time someone objects, we’ll never accomplish anything. We’ll just be another toothless organisation that talks about helping people but never actually does it.”

He leaned forward, his voice earnest. “We improved this house. We saved Madeline’s life. We’re investigating these attacks. And yes, we’re going to have conversations with the local authorities about how they treat their people. That’s not overstepping. That’s doing our job.”

Alaric sighed again, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” William said cheerfully. “So you might as well help me do it properly. Have the diplomatic corps reach out to Prince Vladimir and the provincial religious leadership. Frame it as a collaborative discussion about improving local governance and welfare. Make it sound boring and bureaucratic.”

“Boring and bureaucratic,” Alaric repeated. “Right. Because nothing says ‘boring’ like a messenger of Kanum summoning priests to explain why they’re doing their jobs wrong.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘offering constructive feedback,’“ William said with a grin.

Despite himself, Alaric laughed. “Fine. I’ll have the team make the arrangements. But if this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough,” William said. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

He stood and moved to the window, looking out at the garden where the afternoon sun was beginning to slant toward evening. Somewhere out there, beyond the woodland, sat a manor that held secrets. A Lord of the Nine who had vanished. And connections to Madeline’s attack that he was only beginning to unravel.

But for now, in this moment, three children were exploring their new home with wonder and joy. A sick woman was resting in a real bed, surrounded by family. And a corrupt priest had been put in his place.

It was a start.

“Come on,” William said, turning back to Alaric. “Let’s go check on Madeline and make sure she’s settling in all right. Then we have work to do.”

As they headed toward the stairs, William could hear laughter from above, Nikolai showing Anna something in his room, Alexi’s deeper voice joining in. The sound of a family beginning to heal.

Whatever darkness lay ahead, whatever secrets the manor held, whatever threats still lurked in the shadows, for now, at least, there was light.

And that was worth fighting for.