By morning the manor felt organized. It was not cheerful, but it had a plan. Tara gathered everyone again in the dining hall, this time to set the rules instead of listing problems.
"Protocols," she said, placing a clean sheet beside the ledgers. "We will follow these until the court decides the inheritance."
Shannon stood to one side with Kim and Mira near the door. Therese had her hair tied up and held a wax tablet—a thin wooden board filled with dark wax, marked with shallow lines where her stylus had already scored notes. It carried nothing grander than the day's chores. Meanwhile, Tristan kept a pencil tucked behind his ear and a notebook ready.
"First, rooms," Tara began. "Four bedrooms remain in use: mine, Therese's, Tristan's, and one guest room reserved for Lord Shannon's guard when needed. Everything else is locked and covered. No wandering into closed rooms. Dust can wait. Waste cannot."
Some of the staff smiled at that, and the tension eased a little.
