[b]Elsewhere, in the Carlisle family Mansion...[/b]

"My lord, would you please calm down? There's no reason for such behavior."

Lord Cheswen stared at Edwyn Carlisle, seemingly stupefied by his calm and serene air. He was a small, fat noble, at least a foot shorter than the young Earl of Trethclyde, even though he was older by a good twenty years. If he had been angry before, now he was in a rage. His pudgy face was swept by a wave of crimson as he puffed in anger. "Such behavior? Such behavior? You have no right to talk to me like that, boy! I'll have you in chains! No more words, no more polite dismissals, I will have my money back, and I will have it NOW!"

Edwyn sighed and shook his head, feigning a good-humored patience he did not feel. This was beginning to grind his nerves. His dear old Uncle, whose skill at drinking himself to a stupor wasn't matched by his financial acumen, had taken out a great deal of money indeed from Lord Cheswen while the former was managing the Carlisle estate. Naturally, Uncle Andrew never paid the man back, leaving the mess on Edwyn's shoulders. He had managed to deflect the nobles pressuring until the fool had stormed in the Carlisle manse and [i]demanded[/i] that either the Carliles cover their kin's debt, or Uncle Andrew be turned over to the courts.

"Lord Cheswen, I will look into this personally, I assure you, but it would be unwise for you to see him at this moment. I will speak to my Uncle on your behalf-"

"None of that!" Cheswen cut in harshly. "I will see the man MYSELF, NOW!"

The Earl pursed his lips, and raised his hand in the air in a motion that cried, "I give up". "If it will get you to stop pestering me like this, then I suppose I must." He gave Cheswen a smirk, hoping to set the man at ease, and gestured towards the manse's staircase. "My uncle is, ah, recovering from merriment in our vault, where he does not risk tripping anyone."

Lord Cheswen seemed relieved, perhaps glad he did not have to follow through with the many threats he had uttered. "The vault? Yes, I see. Naturally. Will you, ah, lead the way?"

"Of course, my good lord." Edwyn smiled again.

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They arrived at the vault after a short walk, taking a complex route through the manse's labyrinthine of corridors. "It stores our collective fortune," he explained to a puzzled Cheswen. "We cannot have a common vagabond steal his way in and find the vault."

"Yes, of course," Lord Cheswen said nervously, clearly intimidated by the unknown surroundings. Finally, they came upon a dead-end, blocked by a massive iron door  a foot thick, with the Carlisle sigil on it. "This would be the vault," Edwyn explained.

"How does it open?" Cheswen asked.

"Easily enough. You forget, my family was sponsoring machinery science since its very dawn." Taking hold of a lever on the wall, he brought it down with a slam, and suddenly a symphony of creaking noises could be heard. The two sides of the door began to split apart, revealing a dank dark chamber within as they parted.

"Andrew Carlisle is in [i]there[/i]?" Lord Cheswen asked skeptically.

"Oh, yes," Edwyn replied, flicking a small switch near the entrance of the vault, lighting a lamp system that illuminated the chamber. The wall safes, where the Carlisle family fortune once resided, were open and empty, without so much as a coin in the entire room. On the ground was the motionless figure of Andrew Carlisle. 

"There you are, you miserable lout!" Lord Cheswen said, regaining his offended anger. He marched forward as Edwyn hung back. The lord overturned the body, and let out a muffled cry: Andrew had no more flesh, only his skeleton remaining. Only then did Cheswen notice the red stain on the room's floor, a legacy of old congealed blood.

"Wha... What the hell happened to him?" the fat lord exclaimed, in a shrill voice, still facing the corpse in front of him. 

"He bored me," Edwyn replied nonchalantly. "Much in the same way as you do." Stepping forward, he slipped an ornatate knife out of his belt, and planted it sideways into the man's fat neck. Lord Cheswen made a lordly gurgle as his hands found his throat, pawing at the dagger, trying to grab it, before he collapsed on the floor, blood pulsing from the open artery. "I did warn you seeing him would be unwise," the Earl chastised the dying man, and turned to leave.

Suddenly, he felt a pinprick in his head, a kind of whistling that had grown louder and louder without him noticing it. Somehow, he knew what it meant: Lord Nixus had summoned him, and at such an inconvenient time, too. He looked down at his blouse, frowning at the stained mess the good Lord Cheswen had caused. How unfortunate; he couldn't present himself before Lord Nixus like this. He'd have to change. And get rid of the blouse. He shut the vault's door, locking the corpses within, and set himself to find something cleaner. 

Edwyn made a silent wish that Nixus would have something interesting in store, because his day had been sadly unsatisfactory so far.