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Chapter One

Dawn approaches.

Young Master Orwen slowly rises out of the deep waters of sleep and takes a long sighing breath of the chill morning air. He doesn't move a muscle or open his eyes yet, but lays contentedly feeling the warmth his body has created underneath the down quilt and the crisp coolness of the air above his pillow. Gradually the light tugs at his eyelids and he looks calmly up at the canopy of red and black silk that hangs above his grand four-poster bed. The light filters dimly through a warped and muddied glass window which has seen nearly a half century of use and is often covered with dust on the outside where it is only ever cleaned by rain showers since Orwen's apartment is situated in the highest level of the north tower. As Orwen begins to drift back into a half-sleep, courted by the inviting warmth under his quilt, the door to the apartment, across the room from the foot of his bed, creaks open to reveal the fresh-scrubbed face of Vin, his manservant. Vin's ears are red and stick out from the sides of his head, and he is as thin as a scarecrow which lacks much hay in it's shirt and trousers. When Vin sees that Master Orwen has not yet risen from bed he hesitates, biting his lip, in the arched stone doorway.

Orwen yawns noisily and lifts his head just over the quilt to stare at his servant. Vin nods with a smirk of satisfaction and disappears behind the creaky door. In a few moments he returns with a maid at his heels who carries a tray of breakfast, while Vin himself carries a curious-looking box bound with a gold ribbon and wax seal. Orwen sits up and squints at the box in Vin's hands as the maid fluffs his pillows behind his back and then sets the tray of food over the quilt on his lap. She exits swiftly leaving the two men alone.

"What's that?" Orwen asks, mouth half-full of biscuit. He did not look up but set to work on his breakfast, buttering the biscuits and sugaring the tea; he glanced up at Vin just before putting a whole boiled egg in his mouth, quickly followed by a length of sausage.

"Sir, your Uncle requests that you open his mid-summer's gift immediately upon your rising from bed." Vin announced in a stately manner.

"Mid-summer's gift?" Orwen snorted, "Since when is mid-summer an occasion for gifts?"

"Your Uncle requests that you join him in his study after you have opened his gift." Vin added.

"Hmpf." Orwen grunted, draining his tea in two gulps. "Set it over there." He motioned to a sturdy chest positioned under the glass window.

"But sir, I was strictly ordered to place it in your hands."

"Of course. And you have."

"But sir--"

"Worry not, Vin. You are dismissed. I intend to sleep a little longer." Orwen said, indicating the chest.

Vin hesitated and then very reluctantly placed the ornate box on the chest and bowed out, pulling the creaking door closed. Orwen watched him discreetly while buttering his second biscuit, and then paused, listening to the servant's retreating footsteps. A stone spiral stairway begun shortly outside his apartment, making it difficult for anyone to hover outside his door and snoop. Once he was certain that Vin was beyond hearing, Orwen set aside his breakfast and gingerly slid off of his raised bed to the floorboards and stepped lightly over the wood, avoiding creaky spots. He stood over the gaily decorated box, contemplating his options.

Chapter Two: Trust

Orwen trusts his uncle and excitedly opens the box.

Chapter Two: Caution

Orwen uses caution, tearing the ribbon and poking the box open with the end of the fireplace andiron.

Chapter Two: Obstinate

Orwen obstinately decides to ignore his Uncle's wishes and go out riding.

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