Cobwebs in the Cupboards, Bugs in the Basement

[Progflaw99]

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Barony of Loch Weald, Dosuun​

Manor Loch Weald, Early Morning​

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The Barony of Loch Weald. Interesting that it's been given to me for simply doing my job. In many ways, I think I feel guilty - alive while the rest of them died. Some days I think it was merely luck, other days I tend to attribute my survival to my natural instinct. I'm always brought to ground when I remember that I very nearly died on Mustafar. It has been a rough recovery. I don't feel like recounting the events right now, but it would do me well to revisit them before my full recollection begins to fade. Even as I write this, I am on my way towards the Manor of Loch Weald. The land was given over to me after the Battle of Kaeshana - another incident I feel obligated to document outside of the official after action report. The clock never stops. All these things - the Occupation of Avalonia by the Ssi-Ruuk, the Battle of Kaeshana, the Invasion of Mustafar and the failed Offensive at Skor II - perhaps I do need time away. The doctors say my body has healed, my mind however is slower, maybe hesitant to fully heal for fear of missing a valuable lesson ingrained in these struggles. Thoughts for another time...

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Rolf's hand shook briefly, his hand coming off the page of the small leather-bound book in his hands. Archaic though it was to physically write when there was technology that could transcribe a person's very thoughts to document, it felt more genuine to the Colonel. He shook his head gently as he gazed out of the viewport of small shuttle. Time had passed so quickly for the soldier, it seemed just a short time ago he was merely a Sergeant - a surprise commission and promotion bringing him the rank of Colonel. It seemed life was moving along and if he didn't take the time to enjoy it, it would be gone in a flash. Closing the small book and fastening the thin leather strap, he replaced it in the canvas bag at his feet. As he looked down at his feet, he smiled. It had been a long time since he'd been so comfortable. The Colonel practically lived out of his uniform, a second skin as it were - to be in a comfortable pair of civilian attire felt.. nice. He'd even managed to leave his chrono, the entire point of his leave of absence was recovery - to put time behind him. It was stressful at first, but as they neared Manor Loch Weald, he began to feel as if a sudden burden had been lifted, shackles unbound. He was anxious to finally have some down time - even if it meant doing some 'Spring cleaning'. It would be his first visit to his manor. That still sounded strange.

The Colonel hadn't been the only one given the title of Baron or Baroness. A doctor by the name of [member="Irajah Ven"] had also been landed - her lands known as the Barony of Blackwater skirted the Colonel's own. The sun was already up, gently reflecting off the lake as they passed over it - a clear view of the manor and attached grounds visible through the viewport. Rolf's breath caught in his throat. *That's... mine?* It was a strange thought. He wasn't exactly one to live an Austere life, but grandiose had never been his thing either - flamboyant at times perhaps but never this.

As the small shuttle came in low over the water, a small set of lights appeared just below the manor - an illuminated landing pad appearing as they neared. With a short flair and a flourish, the shuttle landed gently atop the small pad, a wide grin gripping the man from ear to ear. He'd arrived, now all that was left to get settled in, an undertaking that had he known would take the better part of the week, perhaps he may have delayed further. Alas, he'd arrived and there was nothing left for it - in fact only moments after he'd entered the estate, the shuttle was called back to Avalonia and he was effectively marooned. He had ways to communicate with the outside world of course, but High Command had threatened him with derrogatory marks should he be caught heading back towards the Captial, he was to remain work free for some time.

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With a sigh, Rolf swept the rag across the counter one more time. This place was finally starting to feel like home. The cupboards had been covered in cobwebs, the chipped plates and bent silverware were swiftly replaced with sturdy if not anything else utensils and plate-ware. It had been a busy week, cleaning, reorganizing. Moving in had been fairly simple, for even though the Colonel did enjoy a few niceties here and there he had overall, very few personal belongings. The manor had felt empty, only a few hired contractors coming in from time to time as part of the effort to modernize and secure the home against the elements and the wear and tear from years left unkempt. Truthfully, he'd begun feeling quite eclipsed by the emptiness of the place.

Just up the road thankfully, the manor had been equipped with a complete stable and corral - something Rolf had been interested in since his arrival but due to several hang ups in the purchasing process, the horses he'd bought had only arrived two days prior. Not a terribly long time to get to know a person but they were of calm demeanor and he'd even managed to go on a fairly lengthy ride the day before. Even with the additional accompaniment of his newfound animal companions he yet felt alone. Perhaps it was the change of pace, the large spaces, or even a touch of self pity - or even a combination of all three - but he'd done it nonetheless. The evening prior, he'd taken advantage of the small office located in one of the upper rooms of the manor. His fingers hesitantly at first and then with more energy had typed up a brief message to someone he knew would be likely able to help ease the boredom that was his solitude.

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To: [member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]
CC: ________________
Subject: Leave of Absence, Coffee?

Hey! It's been a while, hope all is well with your reporting gig - plenty of stories I'm sure with the war raging and all. Not to delve too deep into current affairs, but did you happen to see what happened at Victory Square? I can't imagine the press is very starved for stories after that. Anyway, I know we'd said we'd have to get coffee sometime while you were in Avalonia but it seems there's a slight complication. I've been given a mandatory leave of absence after the whole Mustafar ordeal and the affair at Taloraan - something about taking vacation or time off, the docs don't think I'm quite up to going back to work yet. That's actually part of the 'complication' I mentioned, I'm under thread of punishment should I show my face in Avalonia before next week.

Anyhow, I wanted to see if you'd be interested in visiting me at Loch Weald, you could come out and we could have some coffee - maybe even get in a ride? Horses, I mean - of course, gods. They've just arrived as of two days ago, quite the friendly ones, though of course I'd understand if you didn't have time or weren't in the area. Like I said, I'll bet the news networks are booming right about now. I thought I'd extend the offer though, hope all is well and give Hector my regards, and the offer is always there, so if not this time I won't be going anywhere for a while.

- Rolf Amsel

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He'd been second guessing it ever since it had been sent, but there was nothing to do about it now - something told him he was just worried over nothing. Gently setting the rag next to the sink he ran his hands under the cool water once more before shutting it off and drying his hands on the towel hanging from the rack. Now that he'd gotten everything done, it was time to relax. He'd prepped the manor as best he could for visitors and there was nothing left to do but wait. With a quick step, he opened the large refrigerator and grabbed a small bottle, the metal cap still sealed. With a smirk, he stepped towards the front porch - a rocking chair seemed to be calling his name.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Lydia turned over the e-mail in her mind for a few days after she got it.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see Colonel Amsel. But things had gotten complicated between Kaeshana and now. They had planned to meet for coffee, but the war changed things, and after Mustafar and Rolf's injuries there, it felt wrong to intrude. She wasn't family. They weren't ... friends -- not exactly. Friendly, to be sure. And there was a spark between them, or so she thought, however awkwardly it had expressed itself on the Desert Empress. The war tore them in different directions, but when she received the email and looked at the appointed date on her calendar and saw that she would be on the capital then. And perhaps it would be awkward at first, but -- she still wanted to see Amsel.

Things weren't made any easier by Hector's view of [member="Rolf Amsel"] as a resource to be cultivated. Having a high-ranking contact in the First Order military establishment would be good for business, but that wasn't what Lydia wanted for him, or for their friendship. She didn't want him looking over his shoulder, or watching what he said in front of her, for fear it would appear in the next nightly news on the Avalonia Broadcasting System. That was no way to live a life, and no way to be with a friend. Besides, Lydia had a feeling that she'd like to cultivate Rolf Amsel in other ways. He was a good guy, and had taken great pains to make sure she got off Kaeshana safe. That wasn't the type of person that you used as a source. Hector didn't quite see it that way.

She wanted to say yes. On the third day after she got the e-mail, Lydia responded.

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To: [member="Rolf Amsel"]
CC: _________________
Subject: RE: Leave of Absence, Coffee?

Hi Rolf,
Yes indeed -- Victory Square was something else. The Ministry of Culture refused press access to the square. I think they wanted the message to go out without putting any spin or commentary on it. I felt sick. I felt -- I don't know. Something like pride. The First Order taking its lumps and all that. It was a very strange sensation; I'm not sure I've made sense of it, even now. Bad luck about Skor II; the First Order will bounce back. It did after the Ssi-Ruuk, and they're much worse than these jumped-up rebels. Anyway, things are pretty grim in the city now, so you're lucky to have an excuse not to be here. And thanks to your invitation, now I have an excuse not to be here too. That's a roundabout way of saying I'd be pleased to visit you at Loch Weald.

Let me know if I can bring anything or if there's any taste of Avalonia that you'd like.
Regards,
LFC

P.S. At this point, the least said about Taloraan, the better. Particularly in writing. Insert winking cat emojii here.

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She stepped off the train, placing a wide-brimmed magenta hat on her head to shield against the spring sunshine. The First Class porter came and took her bag. "Can I get you a taxi, ma'am?" he asked. Lydia agreed and let him take the small suitcase. The carry-on, stuffed to the brim with snacks and booklets -- crosswords, Sudoku, jumbles, etc. -- she slung over her shoulder with her purse. The taxi ride to Loch Weald -- which the driver kept comically pronouncing as "loh-sh walled" as he tried to engage Liddy in conversation. The drive through the lake country was beautiful and shorter than she expected; it was only fifteen minutes before the taxi eased to a stop in the driveway of the estate. The driver got her luggage out of the trunk, Lydia tipped him, and she picked up her case, heading towards the door.

 

[Progflaw99]

To say he hadn't been anxiously waiting would have been a lie. Not much one to toe across the line when it came to expanding his comfort zone, the Colonel had been contemplating what he'd done, inviting the woman here to his estate. It was uncharacteristic that he was so forward, in fact it almost felt a bit rushed in hindsight. *Too late now, best to carry on I suppose.* Rolf wasn't exactly having second thoughts, but he sure didn't know what to expect. he internal voice in his head screamed profanities. What was he doing? Certainly he'd heard the words enough as a young officer, women in the media, even state run media were a serious liability - but Lydia wasn't just a news jockey, was she? *Kaeshana* That barren world, ground soaked in blood and bathed in misfortune. It was there they'd been thrown together in the chaos that was war. That was the beginning. That was where their paths had crossed for the first time.

Rolf shook his head gently - how long ago that felt. Life had sent them their separate ways after that, though they'd run into each other again after the conflict on Mustafar. A short exhalation of breath brought him back to the present. The past was the past - no use worrying about it now. Now he had a guest to receive.

Stirring himself from where he sat, his eyes traced out front to the drive. His ears hadn't been mistaken - there was a crunch of gravel as the small vehicle came to a halt. Inside, a figure even he could recognize. Stifling the grin which crossed his features into a more moderate smile, Rolf rose to his feet and walked to the door. With little hesitation he stepped out, a hand rising as he called out.

"Wasn't sure you were going to make it! Welcome to Loch Weald." He said dramatically motioning with his arm before cracking a grin. "Here, let me get that for you. Travel wasn't too bad was it?"​

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Rolf moved, his hands open as he offered to grab her bag. He gave the driver a quick glance as the wheels turned and crunched the gravel beneath its tires, the sound of its engine fading. It only took a few moments of silence before the sounds of birds once more filled the air. It was so different out here, away from the noise and bustle of the city. Footsteps matching Lydia's, he dared a secret glance, it was good to see a friend. While it was quiet out here, sometimes it almost felt too quiet. It was nice to have friends, friends you chose rather than friends of necessity - as was the common case among the military elite he'd become so accustomed to spending time around.

[member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The property was beautiful. It almost reminded her of Galidraan, in a way -- pastoral, idyllic, pristine. She pulled her sunglasses off and took it all in on her way up the steps. "I wasn't sure either," Lydia responded with a smirk as she reached the top of the steps. "Oh -- thanks," she said, hesitating a moment before she handed over the bag. "Actually, the trains are great. Aside from the taxi driver who seemed to want to be my best friend -- or yours. He was very curious about this place." She followed along allowing her free hand to wrap around his free arm, letting him squire her towards the doorway.

"Is it strange to be so far out of the city?" she asked, casting a look around. Liddy could barely believe how quiet it was. She had a small but charming townhouse in the Garden District, which was the quietest, most peaceful and least bustling districts of the city, but it paled in comparison to the serenity of Loch Weald. "Sorry, was I supposed to curtsy back then, since you're -- you know -- a Baron and all? I'm afraid I've left my Hestleford's Etiquette at home."

The young reporter looked around the place, her head on a swivel. "Well if this is the thanks of a grateful nation, remind me to perform acts of extraordinary bravery next opportunity I get." Lydia glanced sidelong at [member="Rolf Amsel"], flushing a little. "I feel like I'm talking too much. Am I talking too much? I think I talk too much when I get -- " She stumbled across the conclusions of her sentence " -- um, nervous. So, um, how are you doing? You look really well. Country life suits you."

 

[Progflaw99]

Rolf's footsteps mirrored Lydia's as they traversed the walk, old habits of walking in unison with the soldiers around him subtly making themselves known. It was interesting to hear the trains weren't bad - all the Colonel could really remember of them was their notoriously cramped capacity and less than desirable accommodations. In all fairness, the last time he'd taken truly public transit was during his enlisted days, before the commission. Wrapping his fingers around the handle of the bag he noted its weight. Not too heavy, not too light - in terms of preparedness he internally grinned. She knew how to pack, though that shouldn't have been too much a surprise, she was a reporter. As Lydia wrapped up his free arm, he motioned with the bag towards the entryway.

"Shall we?"​

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As he took a gentle step towards the door, his ears perked up at Lydia's question.

"It was at first, though I'm not entirely sure that's a bad thing - a lot easier to think out here." He chuckled audibly as she continued, setting her bag down just inside the door and turned towards her with an amused grin. "I have one stipulation, if I may, while you are here - no formalities." He gave her a quick wink before motioning inside. "Ladies first!"​

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Loch Weald had been a refuge, an escape from the order and formality of the Capital, of the military. He hoped it would be the same for the avid reporter, though who knew. As she commented on their surroundings, he nodded. It really was something else, though he still felt small discomfort at it being merely given to him as a result of doing his job. Everyone probably felt that to an extent - well, not everyone but he figured it was more common than not. He held back a smile as the woman blushed. He too was.. nervous wasn't the right word, or at least not the one he would admit to though the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. It was strange, not interacting with someone purely in the line of duty, or on business as it were - he'd grown rather the recluse outside of his official responsibilities. It was refreshing. Rather suddenly he realized he'd lost himself in thought. Quickly recovering his attention, he quickly caught up in his head and replied.

"Yeah, I'm doing pretty well - can't complain outside the boredom but beyond that - I think you're right. It's been.. enlightening, taking a step away from it all." He once more motioned towards the interior of the estate. "I can show you to your room, or give you the grand tour?"​

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[member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"No formalities, hm?" Lydia asked, lofting her eyebrows as if this was somehow scandalous. "Dare I to call you Rolf?" She suppressed a smirk and followed him through the door. He set her bag down and she took the opportunity to separate from him for a moment, light footfalls taking her across the entryway to look around. She wondered if, when he had settled, Loch Weald would be a distinguished officer's manor or something more akin to a bachelor pad. She noted that it smelled fresh and clean, which made her lean rather away from the bachelor pad possibility. She turned back towards him and offered an apologetic smile. "Just checking for eavesdroppers," she told him. "You know -- servants or house guests or listening devices -- if I'm going to call you by your name I'd hate for anyone to overhear and get any ideas."

She studied him briefly, glancing at her bag, before answering: "We should drop my bag in my room so you don't have to lug it all over the place. Sorry it's a bit weighty -- I -- well, I brought you, um, crosswords? And number puzzles. And word searches. For some reason I got the idea that you were injured and stuck in a bed or something," Lydia confessed. "So -- things to keep you occupied. That's the idea anyway," she amended before going back over to his side. "I thought you might be a little grown-up for coloring books," she added with a tight smile. "But no judgment if that's your thing. I have one in my desk at work that incorporates all kinds of curse words. I slip them to my brother anonymously, he hates it, it's hilarious -- "

Again, the reporter realized that she was yammering, stopped dead in her tracks and colored slightly. "But I do want to see the place, if there's a tour on offer. I bet you have great views of the Loch."

[member="Rolf Amsel"]

 

[Progflaw99]

The sound of his name on her lips sent a grin racing across his features and a stir within his bosom. It sounded strange to him, his first name. So used to the orderly and proper formality of his titles coupled with his last that it almost sounded completely foreign. As Lydia followed close behind he replied cheerily.

"Oh dear, it does sound scandalous when you say it like that."​

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Playfully he winked in her direction, returning to close the door gently behind them. Turning back towards her, he watched as she gave the entryway the once-over. For a moment he simply stood there, silently admiring the light as it caught Lydia's slim figure, her eyes passing from direction to the next. As she turned back towards him he caught himself, amusement plain as she spoke towards servants, and listening devices. He'd done several sweeps himself in all seriousness, a more perfect place to wiretap than a Colonel's abode was hard to come by - but, the search had proven fruitless and Rolf's concern had been satisfied, though to mention such a thing to his guest might cause a certain level of unease. *Best leave that bit out.* he thought.

As Lydia looked to her bag, his gaze followed briefly before returning to the brunette's energetic presence. An apology began, and as he was about to interject Rolf found she'd continued talking - crosswords, puzzles, by all accounts it sounded like the contents of a travel bag. Continuing further, she mentioned coloring books. That sent Rolf into a brief fit of the chuckles. The image of Lydia sitting at her desk, or cubicle, or - wherever she did her work daintily coloring and shading the word "Kriff" was too much. A full laugh escaped his lips.

"Yes - in fact, the view from your room is actually quite spectacular. I don't have guests particularly often, on account of the travel time but I think you'll find them fitting - " He paused. Now he was the one yammering. "Well, how about we take your suggestion and drop your bag off upstairs, stop one on our grand tour."​

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Sweeping up the bag with the handle, he almost tipped, not accounting for how heavy it would be to actually lift it. *She wasn't joking!* With a flourish, he motioned up the ornate staircase.

"After you - take a right at the top of the stairs, last door on the right at the end of the hall!" ​

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As the two made their way up the stairs he kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier.

"I'm sorry - I'm such an awful host, can I get you anything to drink? There's actually a small mini-bar in your suite but it's probably a bit early to be doing that kind of drinking. I've got water, or the neighbor down the way brought over a full gallon of fresh squeezed lemonade - who knew they grew lemons on Dosuun?!"​

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With that, he continued, motioning down the hall as they reached to top of the stairs. Good thing they weren't travelling far, his arm had already begun to fatigue - but as any good gentleman he merely took a deep breath and smiled on.

[member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"One thing at a time," Lydia said airily as she climbed the steps with [member="Rolf Amsel"]. She followed along, her eyes darting around the place as she did, looking for clues of the Colonel's tastes in decorations and furnishings. Eventually, their meandering took them to her room, and Lydia wasted no time in going straight to the window and pulling the curtains to look out at the view. Her jaw dropped at the expansive view that greeted her then, and she pressed onto her tip-toes, craning her neck as if she could see more by adopting these ridiculous poses.

"If this is the view from a mere guest room, I shudder to think what the master suite is like," said Lydia. She took the bag from Rolf and hefted it onto the bed and immediately popped it open. Inside the suitcase, taking up a good third of the large space, was a rather crumpled gift basket, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a brilliant blue and grey striped ribbon. She made a face, half-turned towards Rolf and explained: "They wanted an extra hundred credits to pack this separately, can you believe it? The nerve of some people." Though she was the daughter and the sister of a Duke, she had little in the way of personal wealth -- her working-class salary and a small allowance from Hector -- and so the expense would have been reasonably significant for her.

"Nothing broken," she confirmed as she pulled the basket out of her luggage. She carried it over to set it on the bureau near Amsel and the door and set about to un-crunch it. "There's your activities books," she said, pointing through the cellophane. "A few bottles of wine, some of those fancy sausage and cheese deals. Not sure why they're fancy, but apparently they're quite something. Chocolate -- and scones mix. I thought I'd bake, to say thanks for inviting me. Don't get your hopes up, you just add water and bake, it's nothing fancy." she added with a deprecating smirk.

"I wouldn't say no to a glass of lemonade, since you mention it." She picked up the gift basket and cradled it in her hand. "I hadn't really thought about it but I suppose Dosuun is the right climate for citrus. D'you know, lemons never grew in large numbers on Galidraan -- too cold, and greenhouses were for flowers if you knew anything at all, at least until Governor Paralem's wife had an Orangery built at the Governor's castle, and then they were rather en vogue for a time -- but Mummy loved this ghastly cocktail called an Aviation, but with a twist of lemon. She used to import lemons from offworld, my father would see red when he got the bills." She exhaled, a faraway look in her eyes for a moment before looking back at Rolf. "They were hideous, lavender affairs, tasting of the ground. Mummy said it was made with violette liquer but it always tasted like the ground to me."

An awkward pause, then: "Were you planning to grow crops here? Have you got tenant farmers?"

Image unrelated.​

 

[Progflaw99]

As they reached the top of the stairs Rolf paused, motioning down the hallway towards where Lydia would be staying. Approaching their destination he gestured towards the door and followed her into the room, stopping once just inside the door. He watched with interest as Lydia made her way across towards the curtains, stopping himself at the foot of the bed. A quiet noise and the curtains pulled back across the rod, light spilling into the place. A smile crept across his features as the woman pushed up onto her toes as if it would allow her to somehow see more than she could before. It was amusing to the Colonel, cute even. Catching himself in a momentary stare he diverted his attention back to the view outside the window.

"It's something isn't it? I'm still not quite settled in, even though it might look that way."​

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Rolf released the bag as Lydia came to claim it, taking a step back as she whipped it up onto the foot of the bed. A curious expression fell upon the man as she opened the suitcase, eyes cautiously peering inward towards the contents of the bag. *Nope, no bricks afterall.* He couldn't quite make it out at first, but as she began to remove the object from the bag a reddish hue began to spread from his ears to his face. A gift? Frantically he tried to think of something to say, or do - gods did gifts make him uncomfortable. It wasn't so much that he didn't appreciate them, in fact it was quite the opposite. It was the awkward moment in which one found themselves receiving a gift and had no gift to return. An irrational aversion to such situations perhaps, but he felt strange nonetheless - even if he did hide his discomfort well.

"That might as well be robbery!" he said with a feigned frown.​

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It was almost comical, the way she looked trying to unkrinkle the cellophane as she stepped towards the door again. He followed along as she pointed out the contents, making a variety of expressions of interest and amusement. The woman spoke quickly, but it was the content of her words he found so amusing - he couldn't help but plaster a silly grin across his face. She seemed to have put a lot of thought into her visit, and he was - relieved? It meant he wasn't the only one who had been somewhat anxious, he also felt flattered. The life of a soldier was never one without sacrifice, and given the tumultuous state of the galaxy it meant he rarely had time for pleasantries or personal endeavors outside of his own career. To have some time to decompress and simply be was something he appreciated.

"You shouldn't have - really, I do appreciate it." he interjected momentarily before the woman's interest turned to refreshments. "Certainly - let's head downstairs and we'll get that going. Did you eat before you came?" He asked as they started back towards the stairs.​

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He listened intently to the woman as they walked. In truth he hadn't known a terrible large amount about the woman, and so it was interesting getting a glimpse into her past as she spoke about Galidraan. He'd never been but the way she made it sound it was a pretty nice place - though difficult to visit he imagined. He chuckled at the tasted like ground bit. They both knew what that tasted like. Making their way to the kitchen, the more modest of the two within the walls of the home. Rolf went to work getting a pair of glasses and a small bucket of ice from the freezer. Lastly, he removed a large container from the fridge, the lemonade.

"Oh, I've thought about it - good land for it once you get up off the lake. As far as myself, I tend to stay away from working in the dirt - do too much of that already." he chuckled. "I have taken on a few horses though. They're quartered up at the stables of course." He moved to pour the glasses and looked over the small counter at Lydia. "Just say when.."​

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[member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"Nonsense," Lydia dismissed his objection out of hand. "It was the least I could do." She followed him as they made their way out of her room and back down to the main rooms of the house and into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter while [member="Rolf Amsel"] moved around the kitchen. She set the basket on the counter and absent-mindedly adjusted the masculine, somewhat smushed bronze ribbon that circled the gift basket as her host busied himself pouring the lemonade. As he did, she took the opportunity to move behind him, tucking two bottles of white wine into the fridge. "I had a snack on the train," she said. "Do you believe they wanted fifteen credits for a chicken salad wrap? It looked drier than the Jundland wastes."

"I know it's none of my business," she began as she came back to the counter, "but if you'd like I could help find you a proper agent. Unless you're planning to live here full-time and run the estate on your own, an agent is really the way to go. You'll want to find someone who knows the land and how best to maximize your profits. And you should maximize your profits. There's no reason why this can't be a cash-cow and a peaceful retreat from the world. Oh -- when!" she said, holding up a hand as the lemonade rapidly approached the top of her glass.

"Thanks," she murmured and retreated around the other side of the counter again. She raised her glass in a toast to Amsel. "Your good health, Colonel."