Return to the Beginning

“Well,” Bruce said, “Here we are. Brysworth Island. The home of the Brysworths for three successive generations and the home of the Brysworth Megacorporation for twice as long. Built with reclaimed land from an old volcanic underwater mountain peak. The island has three docks, a small town, even a hot air balloon station – and then there’s Brysworth Manor itself. A grand building with over three hundred staff living in and around it, with over a thousand rooms and walls built of marble and gold. Magmatic vents provide cheap and constant heat to the building. The cellars stretch down nearly ten metres, and the highest point of the building – that is, the Great Tower – is over a hundred metres tall. There’s a moat, dungeons, and a chapel. The storerooms are cooled by great pipes laid years ago stretching into the deep ocean. The whole building is supported by a mesh-and-girder grid of refined runite. This isn’t just a home – this is a palace.”

“Thanks for the exposition,” Hecate replied, “Your home seems to be a significant step away from this, though. Who’s going to keep hold of it?”

Bruce smiled. “I intend to keep my pleasant little home, unless things get too bad. No, Brysworth Island will pass into the hands of one of my siblings – and that’s a long time away, considering how well Father is going.”

“You never said you had a family!”

“Didn’t I? The island is currently the property of Ben Brysworth III, who married Jane Brysworth nearly forty years ago. First came Ben IV, then me, then James Brysworth, and finally little William Brysworth. Not that any of them are here – Ben is assessing damage in Catherby, James has been sailing around the Southern Ocean for at least a year, and Will is brokering a financial deal in Kandarin. He’s also a hedge funder, would you believe.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of stories about this place,” Hecate told him.

“Well...”