Chapter 1 - Grandfather

He sat there, shoulders hunched, his face betraying his emotions.

In front of him, a wooden box with a seal.

“If there’s one thing I know about your grandfather, it is that he was a schemer,” Hendrix reasoned.

He turned around and glared at Hendrix.

“My apologies. Poor delivery. I meant to say that your grandfather never did anything without good reason,” he explained.

“Why was he so…”

“Distant?” Hendrix filled in.

“I could never understand him. We spent a lot of time together when I was younger.”

Hendrix looked at him. He knew where he was going with it.

“Long talks turned into long letters over long trips. The letters grew shorter until…”

He looked at the box.

He reached for it.

“Young Master …” Hendrix suddenly spoke.

He froze moments before touching the box.

“You don’t have to accept that gift. You could trade it with…”

The box’s surface glistened.

Hendrix abruptly stopped speaking.

His attention switched between Hendrix and the box.

“Young Master, be wary of the languages of agreements and contracts,” Hendrix said, stern in his annunciation.

“What?”

He then promptly turned around and left.

The door shut.

He pulled himself away from watching Hendrix leave and sank into the study chair.

“Was Hendrix nervous?” his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Can’t be. He’s always efficient, prompt, and decisive. He leaves no room for self-doubt or fear…” he leaned forward.

Fear…

He looked at the box and could swear it had lost a bit of its lustre.

“Language of agreements and contracts, huh?”

He remembered Grandfather poring over parchments and letters, one memory in particular rising from his childhood:

“Imagination. Negotiation. Survival.” Grandfather’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Never agree to anything without knowing what the stakes are, lad.”

“What if participation is a trick?”

He looked at the young one.

“If it is a trick, just remember that tricks usually conceal secrets…” Grandfather said looking at him over his glasses.

Grandfather always knew strange things about agreements and … His eyes widened.

He looked at the box again.

“Was Hendrix trying to warn me?”

He felt his body leaning away from it.

“Right before I touched it?”

“You still have considerable leverage if you haven’t agreed to anything. Even more so if there were no witnesses,” he remembered.

“He left me out of the inheritance to create urgency. Alright. I’ll bite old man!”

He steeled himself and touched the box.

Nothing.

He rubbed it. Still nothing.

He turned it around and slowly lifted it for inspection.

He held his breath and lifted it.

After examining every corner he lifted the clip and lid, and peered inside.

Five blue-and-gold coins gleamed back at him.

The study door snapped open.

“Holy shit!” he hissed.

“Excuse me, sir. We’ll be needing the office for the next appointment,” the paralegal walked in and explained.

The balcony double doors flew open, and a violent gust of wind tore into the study.

Documents burst into the air as the gust howled through the office.

It pushed the paralegal back into the door.

Then silence.

He had stepped backwards and tripped, spilling the box and its contents.

The paralegal jumped toward the doors and closed them.

“Sorry about that. That’s usually well shut,” he said, moving to help him pick up the box and coins.

“It’s all right. I’ve got it,” he said, snatching at every gold gleam he could see.

He felt rushed. He needed to get home. He needed to investigate the coins.

---

“The office is clean, sir. I’m locking up!” The cleaner yelled.

“Sirrr?” she called out once more while packing up her cleaning supplies.

As she was unplugging the vacuum cleaner, a golden glint somewhere at the foot of the office desk beckoned her.

---

He shut the door and began his end-of-the-day ritual.

Shower into comfortable clothes.

Not before taking the box out of his bag and placing it on the coffee table.

On a normal day, he’d order in and game.

Today, however, he was forced to interact with his family at the will reading.

“Everyone accuses me of being Grandfather’s favourite, only to get screwed over in the will.”

He threw himself onto the couch.

“Uncle Ben got the manor in Ireland. Aunt Sophia got the art and artifact collection worth millions. Even my cousins got massive cash injections, all three of them…”

“What are you scheming old man?” He thought sitting up.

He leaned forward, opened the box and looked at the coins.

“Ben! Xxxxx got nothing. Can you believe it? Ha!” he recalled Sophia’s reaction.

He sat up.

He recalled the memory again.

“Ben Xxxxx got nothing. Can you believe it? Ha!”

“My name? I can’t think my name. What’s my name?”

He scrambled for his ID. It was blurred out.

He pulled out his phone.

Checked his personal email.

Work email.

Texts.

All hazy and blurred.

He dialled.

“Hello? Xxxxx”

“Theon. Say my name!”

“I just did…”

“Say my name!”

“Whoa there, buddy. I know we’re close friends, but I don’t …”

“Retard. My name. Just say it!”

“Look, I know you just lost someone close, but hitting on me and then insulting me is a lot …”

“Seriously?”

“Okay, okay. It’s Xxxxx!”

Xxxxx heard static instead.

He looked at the coins gleaming with innocence.

“Shit.”

“Xxxxx You all right, man?”

“I have to go. Later.”

Xxxxx paced in the living room.

“Languages of agreements and contracts,” he remembered.

I haven’t agreed to anything yet …

“Symbolism.”

“Symbolism?”

“Yes. It’s when certain objects or actions represent ideas and concepts.”

Little Xxxxx nodded for Grandfather to continue.

“Ones you should be careful of are actions.”

“Why?”

“Most people are not aware that simple actions can release something or trap it.

“Hmm. What kind of actions, Grandfather?”

“It depends, but simple gestures like eating something, walking through a door or opening-a-box…”

He stopped pacing.

“What the heck? There’s no way. Why did he say it like that? I mean, it was a long time ago. Did he even …”

Ting ting.

He reached for his phone and, to his surprise, felt himself already holding a coin.

He put it down on the kitchen counter and reached for his phone.

His other hand was now holding the coin.

He texted:

[Uncle Ben. Is Hendrix there with you? I need to speak with him urgently!!!]

Having a plan, even if just asking for help, made him feel better.

He took breaths and resolved himself.

“I’m already in it. I might as well have a look and try to figure this out.”

He made his way to the couch and sat in front of the box.

He lifted the coin and really looked at it.

It depicted blue-and-gold loops all around the coin. The center of it was made from pure glass.

He turned it over.

The reverse side was one blue ring that encircled the glass center.

He sensed his attention locking into the coin.

He tried to look away, but he couldn’t. He felt an inner part of himself wriggle and move while his body and attention remained rigid.

The box glistened. 

\\Author Notes//

The 1st 5 people to select a tier get to choose the MC’s name.

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