"Marigay Smythe, Mr. Witherborn. I am the daughter of April Witherborn, and, I believe, your cousin. Gregory was my great uncle." The man had an air of confidence and arrogance which would be detested in polite society. I reached forward and shook his hand as my trunk was loaded onto a small cart. Slaves took it from there, hauling the heavy piece of luggage in the direction of the big house visible in the distance.

The elderly vehicle awaited, door open, with a slave standing to be of service as needed. I was assisted into the car and Michael followed.
We conversed a bit about the upcoming meal and the starting of the Ritual. Both of us were tense during the drive, it seemed... I know I was. We approached the Manor House and stopped in the portico, entering the front door about the same time as my luggage cart was approaching the house from a more direct path in the rear.

I looked back towards the pier, watching for a second as the slaves unloaded the remainder of the cargo. A beautiful woman opened the door for us, assisting us as we entered the entryway. Michael indicated the door woman, telling me that she was Jasmine, and was to be assigned to me for my personal needs and desires. I thanked him for his courtesy, and followed Jasmine to my suite, where my locked trunk was waiting for me. It would be several hours before the meal; I used the time to clean up from the difficult voyage.

Sitting in a hot tub a few moments later, I savored the delightful scented oil Jasmine she had added to the tub from my trunk. I would, of course, not utilize anything that I had not brought myself; my parents had warned me of the methods and such the others would use in their efforts to win the inheritance. I had, however, been pro-active in many ways. In fact, I had already activated one weapon.