I climb the cliff walls, checking on the various caves. They're all empty and uninteresting but for the second last I explore. Its small opening leads to a rather large hall. A small crack in the ceiling lets in some light and a sunray. Not too interesting, either. Just when I want to leave I notice something strange in a recess. The color of the limestone doesn't quite fit. I take a closer look and see that it isn't limestone after all but just plaster, painted to look like the surrounding stone.
I find a heavy rock and start to pound on the plaster. It doesn't take me too long to break loose some of it. There's another small cave behind it. I crawl through the passage and soon find a vault. I don't have to count the locks to realize that this is THE VAULT.
Hauling it out of the cave is another story, climbing out of the cave carrying the vault is out of the question. But lifting the vault through the crack in the ceiling proves to be fairly easy. I reach the manor in half an hour, seeing nobody. The house lies quiet. I leave the vault on the front yard and get in. The servants are all gathered in the kitchen. I ask them what's up while I have a coffee and eat some buttered bread. They say that they haven't seen any of the other heirs since the fire.
„We're not allowed to go upstairs without a specific reason.“
„And the fire and the fact that all of the heirs including Michael have gone missing is not a reason specific enough, ragazzi?“
„No, signorina Luisa.“ They all grin broadly. I can't help but laugh back.
„Allora, andiamo. Let's go and see.“ On the first floor we find Jason, unconsious. In Marigays room I find only ashes where her trunk was. On the top floor lies Michael, also passed out. I ask two of the stronger male servants to carry them both to the front yard. Then I head to the basement and return with lots of locks, chains, ropes and steel cuffs. And of course, two collars. Both men are stripped naked in a matter of seconds. Then I prop each of them up against a tree and cuff their wrists behind the tree. Their ankles are chained too. Just for good measure I lock chains around their throats and trees and pull them rather tight. And last, but certainly not least, the collars. You just gotta love massive steel chains, hehehe.

Then I look at them and think 'why don't just make them uncomfortable?'. I pull their ankles back until their feet rest almost under their buttocks. One hour in their position and they'll be unable to walk until the circulation is working again. Seventeen hours and their legs are probably gone forever. I couldn't care less.

When I'm done I haul the vault over where they can see it as soon as they regain their consciousness. It must be close to seventeen hours since i torched the house, I wonder why they're still passed out. Maybe some of the stuff Marigay had in her trunk...

I look a the servants just standing there, watching Michael and Jason with a bemused and somewhat satisfied expression on their faces. All but one seem to be satisfied, that is.
„You all have the rest of the night for yourself, ragazzi. Go use the guestrooms, the Master room, sleep anywhere you want. Go now, enjoy an evening without any duty. Sillitta, I would like to talk to you for a moment.“
We sit on the wall overlooking the hillside and I ask her a couple of questions. She answers me dutifully, and finally she says „don't let that awful Michael win, please.“
„Not if I can help it, and not if you help me.“
Then I head down to the slave quarters and pick the one girl Sillitta pointed out as Michaels favourite. She glares at me, hatred in her eyes. She's dangerous and therefore she is chained to a tree just like Michael and Jason.

I admire my work. Not bad, for a single afternoon, having found the vault and catched and collared two heirs. That leaves Marigay and Melissa. I wonder where they are. But I ain't gonna stay here and wait for them. I go fetch my backpack, which is blackened by the smoke but still intact. When I get back, Michael is glaring at me, spitting insults. I take of my shoes and socks off and tell him to open his mouth. A wave of 'cunt' and 'fucking bitch' is his response. I remember a film where Jack Nicholson has his nostril slit by a thug. And lo and behold, it works! He opens the mouth, the sock goes in and is taped in place. The nose bleeds badly, but he breathes easily. Then I make preparations for the night. And finally, after having eaten, I take cover myself.