Chapter 111: Home
After a long day from work, Ernest returned home to his estate at Oriel where the estate steward, Roland Vance, was already waiting by the entrance.
The carriage carrying him, driven by Arthur, pulled the reins, causing the horses to stop exactly before the wide stone steps leading toward the manor.
Roland immediately stepped forward as the steward bowed respectfully while one of the servants hurried to open the carriage door.
Ernest came out from the carriage and Roland bowed his head.
"Good evening, Master Ernest, how was your day?" he said respectfully.
"Well, same old same old, Roland," Ernest said as he descended the steps. "Work was the same so there’s nothing particularly new."
"Perhaps, sir, you have simply found a rhythm to your work that makes it feel ordinary," Roland replied with a faint smile. "I imagine most men would consider overseeing several companies and corresponding with half the merchants in Helmarte anything but ordinary."
Ernest laughed quietly as they climbed the steps toward the manor entrance.
"Perhaps you’re right. I suppose perspective changes things. A year ago, I would’ve considered reviewing production figures for three separate businesses an absurd way to spend an afternoon."
"And now?"
"Now I complain if the reports arrive late."
Roland chuckled at that.
The large wooden doors opened before they reached them, and warm air immediately greeted Ernest as he stepped inside. The contrast between the cool evening outside and the warmth of the manor remained one of his favorite parts of returning home. After all, just three months ago, he had retrofitted the house with a heating system centered around a coal-fired boiler installed in a small service building behind the estate.
Copper pipes ran through the walls and beneath portions of the flooring before connecting to cast-iron radiators installed throughout the manor. During winter, the entire building remained comfortably warm regardless of how cold the winds outside became.
By modern standards, it was primitive.
By the standards of the Kingdom of Belfast, it bordered on sorcery.
Ernest still remembered the expressions on the workers’ faces the first time they entered the heated manor during winter. Most people in Helmarte simply endured the cold months with additional layers of clothing, thicker blankets, and larger fireplaces. Entire sections of homes remained unusable during particularly harsh winters because heating a large room consumed ridiculous amounts of firewood or coal.
The radiator system changed that completely.
The heat spread evenly through the manor without smoke, without drafts, and without requiring servants to constantly feed fireplaces throughout the building.
But, only his estate has that heating system. And he intended on planning to add another system, an electric lighting, where instead of relying on candles, he’d have electric lighting, which would illuminate this place. But since he was busy with work, he didn’t find time to work on it.
Well, maybe today, but he could smell the food wafting in the air that was coming from the kitchen hall.
"My parents are in the kitchen, right?"
Roland nodded.
"Yes, Master Ernest. They arrived approximately an hour ago. Your father finished work early today and Lady Anna insisted that everyone would be eating together."
That explained the smell.
Roasted meat.
Fresh bread.
Something involving garlic and herbs.
Ernest smiled.
His mother possessed a frightening ability to determine exactly when he had spent too many consecutive days eating meals delivered to his office.
Apparently this was an intervention.
"Father finished early?" Ernest asked as he handed his coat to one of the servants.
Roland’s expression became noticeably more amused.
"That depends on your definition of early, sir."
That was concerning.
The steward continued.
"He only threatened to dismiss three warehouse supervisors, two foremen, and one procurement officer before lunch."
Ernest blinked.
"Only three?"
"An unusually calm day, according to the machine works staff."
That earned a laugh.
Victor Teucher had changed considerably over the past three years.
The quiet forge worker who once spent his days hammering horseshoes now oversaw hundreds of workers across multiple workshops and production facilities. Somewhere along the way, he had apparently discovered that he possessed a talent for management.
Specifically...
The management style that involved standing silently beside someone until they corrected their mistakes out of sheer nervousness.
It was remarkably effective.
Workers respected him.
Managers feared disappointing him.
Production targets improved.
Nobody quite understood how it happened.
Not even Victor himself.
The moment Ernest entered the dining hall, he immediately spotted his parents. They were already seated, chatting warmly with one another, and they eventually realized his presence.
"Oh, my son," Anna’s eyes lit up with joy. "We are waiting for you."
His mother is just as jovial as ever.
"Good evening, mother, father," Ernest said.
"Good evening son," Victor greeted back. "We know you are tired so we already asked the kitchen staff to prepare us dinner."
Ernest walked over to his seat where Roland followed behind and pulled the chair out for him before quietly stepping away toward the side of the room.
"Let’s enjoy our dinner and talk about our day," Anna said with a smile.
"Well nothing interesting about me," Victor began. "It was just work and work, just like your son."
"It’s actually the same mother," Ernest said. "Nothing really changes in the workplace aside from doing what you were doing everyday."
"That’s kind of boring doesn’t it?" Anna said.
"It may sound boring, but it’s what brings food on the table," Victor said. "And it’s best when things are boring, because everything is working smoothly, right son?"
"True father," Ernest concurred.
Anna smiled warmly at both of them.
"Then I suppose I should be grateful that my two favorite men have boring jobs."
Victor laughed.
"Believe me, Anna, boring is wonderful. Boring means machines are working, workers are happy, and warehouses aren’t on fire."
Ernest raised an eyebrow.
"Were warehouses ever on fire?"
"Not yet."
The older man pointed a finger at him.
"But considering your track record with new inventions, I refuse to rule it out."
That earned laughter around the table.
Soon the conversation shifted toward simpler things.
The estate gardens.
A new bakery that had opened near the eastern market.
The unusually warm weather for the season.
For perhaps the first time in weeks, Ernest found himself talking without discussing telegraph lines, mining surveys, or investment figures measured in millions of riels.
Dinner stretched comfortably into the evening.
Eventually, the plates were cleared away and servants began extinguishing some of the lamps around the dining hall.
Victor stood first.
"Another early morning tomorrow."
Anna nodded.
"And another long day for all of us."
One by one, they exchanged goodnights before retreating to their respective bedrooms.
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