The sun was high, the breeze gentle. After breakfast, Thunder practiced a set of martial moves in the yard, feeling invigorated and his meridians clear. Satisfied, he let out a hearty laugh.
Then came the noise—chaotic, bustling. Thunder stopped and stepped outside to see a crowd hauling things into his house. Old Man Oak and Tifa stood frozen, watching in disbelief.
"Hurry up! Get Master Colin's belongings inside!" someone barked.
"What's going on?" Thunder initially thought it was another robbery, but then realized they were unloading goods *into* his home. He strode over.
"No idea," Oak said, bewildered. "They showed up at dawn, just started moving things in without a word."
"Wrong address?" Thunder frowned. Tifa blinked up at him, nodding vigorously.
"You there!" Thunder waved at a man who seemed in charge. "What's this about?"
"Ah, Master Colin, up so early?" The foreman's scowl melted into obsequiousness as he scurried over. "I'm the steward of Lord Angus!"
"Angus?" Thunder and Tifa exchanged confused glances.
A few of yesterday's lackeys were among the workers, though they avoided Thunder's gaze—clearly, his magic had left an impression.
"Lord Angus said there was a… misunderstanding. Sent me to make amends," the steward explained, sweating.
"Misunderstanding?" Thunder arched a brow.
"Please, be merciful!" The man bowed deeply. "If anything's lacking, we'll bring more."
Mages were untouchable in commoners' eyes—like legendary warriors. The steward's hands trembled.
"Should we take it, Master?" Oak asked, flushed with excitement.
"Take it all!" Thunder smirked. After years of humiliation, this was just interest.
"Tifa, help me tally!" Oak marched off, chest puffed, with the maid in tow.
The steward exhaled in relief. Refusal would've meant trouble.
"And our family lands?" Thunder pressed.
"Returned!" The steward hastily produced deeds. "Everything's yours again."
Thunder snatched them, scanning. Not only were their original 200 acres restored, but Angus had thrown in a nearby pond.
*Generous indeed.*
A servant lugged over a heavy sack that clinked. The steward presented it with both hands. "Profits from your lands these past years."
Thunder weighed it—about 100 gold coins. *No skimping here.*
"Tell your lord I'm *delighted*," Thunder said, clapping the steward's shoulder hard enough to buckle his knees.
"Y-yes, at once!"
"I'll visit for tea someday. Maybe a friendly card game."
The steward turned purple. Years ago, Angus had swindled the orphaned Colin out of his lands through gambling.
By noon, the goods were unloaded. The steward bowed and scurried off, leaving the house eerily quiet.
Oak sat weeping on the floor, ignoring Tifa's proffered towel. The old man had cried more in two days than in years.
Tifa, though calmer, glowed with excitement.
"Master, the inventory." Oak handed Thunder a list, his hands shaking.
Angus had gone all out—lands, back profits, even enough food to last years.
"Keep it. Just us here anyway." Thunder dropped the coin pouch on the table. "Yesterday I said things'd improve. Today proved it."
Tifa grinned ear-to-ear.
Oak untied the pouch—and recoiled as gold light blinded him. "Too bright! Put it away!"
Tifa collapsed onto the coins, giggling uncontrollably.
For lunch, Thunder grilled beef in the yard. Oak still muttered over accounts while Tifa assisted. It was their grandest meal in years—back when Colin ruled, Tifa had scavenged野菜 to survive.
Thunder handed Tifa a crispy slab. "Eat up. You're skin and bones."
She took it, tears falling.
"Stop crying!" Thunder hated tears. A girl her age should be laughing. "Or I'll spank you."
Tifa flinched, instantly dry-eyed. The word "spank" triggered old fears—Colin's beatings had left scars.
"Let her be, Master. She's just happy," Oak said, discreetly wiping his own eyes.
Will Angus's "gifts" bring peace—or is this just the calm before the storm?