Reborn as the Last van Ambrose

The pounding on Grim’s door came just after dawn, loud and insistent enough to wake even the other guests at the Inn. Grim was already awake, having spent the early morning hours in meditation as Yongrun had taught him.

"Lord Van Ambrose," a formal voice called through the wooden door. "By order of the Imperial Palace, your presence is requested immediately."

Grim opened the door to find three imperial guards in front of him. One guard was in all white armour and the other two were in black obsidian armour.

"What does the palace want with me at this hour?" Grim asked, making no effort to hide his irritation.

"We were not informed of the specifics, my lord," the senior guard replied. "Only that your presence is required and that the matter is urgent."

Grim considered refusing just to be difficult, but decided that antagonizing the imperial guards served no immediate purpose.

The journey to the palace was swift and silent. As they approached the eastern gates, Grim noted the heightened security. Additional guards stood at attention, they stared at Grim as he walked further into the palace.

Word of his encounter with Lord Terras had spread quickly, it seemed.

They led him through a series of cprridors until they reached a carved door with silver ingraved into it. The senior guard knocked once, then opened the door without waiting for a response.

"Lord Van Ambrose, as requested, Archmage," he announced before stepping aside to allow Grim to enter.

The room beyond was not one of the formal audience chambers but a more intimate study. Bookcases on all sides of the room. Morning light streamed through the celling where the only window was. His large desk covered in scrolls and tomes.

Archmage Marcus looked up from his work.

"Thank you, Captain," he said to the guard. "That will be all."

When the doors closed behind the departing guards, Marcus rose from his desk and approached Grim.

"Grim," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Archmage," Grim replied formally.

"None of that," Marcus chided gently. "You used to call me Uncle Marcus when you were small."

"No, i really didn’t. "

"Ah, dont you lie now." Marcus said. He gestured to a pair of comfortable chairs near the window. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Grim took the offered seat, keeping Echo close at hand. "Is this about Lord Terras?"

"Partially," Marcus admitted, settling into the chair opposite. "That was... quite a statement you made."

"He owed me a debt."

"And now he’s missing part of his ear." There was no judgment in Marcus’s tone, merely observation. "His son came to see me last night, you know. Terrin believes his father might attempt something foolish in retaliation."

"Let him try," Grim replied flatly.

Marcus sighed. "Your father never would have said or do the things you do."

"Im more like my great grandfather than my father." Grim finished.

Silence hung between them for a moment, heavy with unspoken grief.

"If I knew you were still alive. I could have spent some capital so you could have more when you came back. Dont let those viltures fool you, the second the 7 year period was over. They jumped at the chance to take the last of everything your family had. " The Archmage’s gaze drifted to the window.

He rose and moved to a side table where a map of the city lay unfolded. "I have something to show you."

Curious despite himself, Grim joined Marcus at the table. The map was detailed, showing not just streets and districts but property boundaries and ownership designations.

"Here," Marcus said, pointing to a large estate in the Upper North District. "Do you recognize this?"

Grim stared at the location, a strange tightness forming in his chest. "The Ambrose estate."

"Your estate," Marcus corrected.

"Is it finally ready for me to have? Or is the Chancellor going to make me jump through mote hoops?"

"The Empress pushed it fast," Marcus replied simply. "She made sure you were reinstated as head of House Ambrose, with certain conditions."

Grim’s eyes narrowed. "What conditions?"

"Standard obligations of nobility. Maintaining residence in the capital for a portion of the year, attending court functions when summoned, that sort of thing." Marcus waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing serious."

"Keeping me where she can see me," Grim observed.

"Politics," Marcus replied with a slight smile. "Your father understood the game well, even when he came back, he never stepped out of line."

"There’s someone waiting for you there," Marcus added. "Someone who never lost faith that you had survived."

"Who?"

"Sera."

The name hit Grim like a physical blow. Sera had been the head of the Ambrose household staff for as long as he could remember. More than a servant, she had been his caretaker when his mother died, a steadying presence through his childhood.

"She’s still alive?" Grim asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

"Very much so," Marcus confirmed with a chuckle. "Still running what remains of the household with an iron fist, despite her age. She’s been preparing for your return ever since I told her you were alive and coming back to the capital."

Grim moved back to the window, looking out over the palace grounds as he processed this unexpected development.

"I didn’t come back for this," he said finally.

"No," Marcus agreed, his voice gentling. "You came back for justice. For vengeance. I understand that, Grim. But despite everything, that house is still your home."

Marcus came to stand beside him at the window. "I’ve arranged a carriage. It’s waiting at the east gate if you wish to see the estate today."

Grim turned to look at the older man, searching his face for hidden motives. But he saw only the same genuine concern that Marcus had always shown him as a child.

"Why are you doing this?" Grim asked.

"Because I owed it to your father," Marcus replied simply. "Rowan was my dearest friend. A

I can’t help you fight that battle with the other nobles. My position requires me to remain neutral. But I can get you back what’s rightfully yours."

After a moment of consideration, Grim nodded once. "Show me."

The carriage ride to the Upper North District was brief. It turned onto the tree-lined avenue that led to the Ambrose estate, Grim felt a strange tightness in his chest that he refused to acknowledge as emotion.

The estate itself came into view as they rounded the final bend. A sprawling manor made of pale stone set amid what had once been meticulously maintained gardens. The grounds had grown somewhat wild over the years, ivy climbing the walls and untrimmed hedges encroaching on the pathways. But the structure itself appeared sound.

"Sera has done what she could with limited resources," Marcus explained as they passed through the gates. "Now that you’ve returned, the full maintenance fund will be released to restore it properly."

The carriage stopped at the foot of the wide stone steps leading to the main entrance. As Grim descended, he noticed an elderly woman standing at the top of the stairs.

Sera.

Her weathered face showed little emotion as Grim approached.

"Young master," she said formally, her voice exactly as he remembered it. "You’ve kept me waiting quite a while."

Despite himself, Grim felt a corner of his mouth twitch upward. "Sera."

She sniffed disapprovingly, looking him up and down with a critical eye. "Too thin. And those robes need proper cleaning." Without waiting for a response, she turned and began walking into the house. "Come. I’ve prepared tea in the east drawing room. It’s one of the few areas I’ve managed to keep properly habitable."

The east drawing room, as promised, was surprisingly well-maintained. Fresh flowers stood in a vase on the side table, and the furniture, though old, had been carefully preserved.

"I’ll fetch the tea," Sera announced, leaving him alone in the room.

Grim saw the carriage leave and with it, Marcus had left.

Sera returned with the tea service.

"Your room is prepared," she informed Grim briskly. "Though they’ll need airing out. The staff consists of myself, the gardener who comes twice weekly, and occasional help from the district handyman when repairs are needed."

"Sera, I haven’t decided if I’m staying here," Grim began.

The old woman fixed him with a look that had cowed him as a child and, remarkably, still made him feel vaguely guilty. "Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are. Where else would you go? That inn? A Van Ambrose does not sleep in rented rooms when he has a perfectly good estate."

Despite everything, Grim found himself almost smiling. "You haven’t changed at all."

"Why would I?" she asked with perfect seriousness. "Now drink your tea before it gets cold."

"It will take time to restore everything properly," Sera said, following his gaze around the room. "But the Ambrose estate will be as it should be again."

Grim nodded, looking at what was his now.

A sharp knock at the front door interrupted his thoughts.

Sera set down her teacup with a slight frown. "Rather early for visitors. Who could that be?"