Star of the Grandline

Chapter 1: Heading to Heartfillia Manor

The train ride back to my family’s manor went by quickly, and within 3 hours I was walking through the gate. The grounds were void of any human life, as all of the employees were laid off as soon as my father lost the house to that stupid bet. It was fortunate that the manor itself and about 200 acres of our land was bought by one of my mothers friends, and she hired a few people to keep everything looking nice until I was ready to return.

I slowly made my way up to the massive double doors of the Heartfillia Manor, trying my hardest to put the bad memories behind me. While I did love my childhood home and the memories of my mother and the employees that it brought, I also could never forget the loneliness I felt here as well.

Everything was just as I remembered it, albeit dusty and lacking the usual natural glow from the now covered windows. I made my way through the house, passing by my room and my fathers old study. The only place I wanted right now was our attic. I’m praying that I'm able to find something up there to help me with my training. I found the old door eventually and wasted no time in pulling it open, which was a mistake as I was instantly covered in dust and cobwebs and nearly knocked unconscious by the latter that fell down right in front of me. 

I sneezed, placing my foot on the first rung and made my way up. It was dark, so much so that I could barely see a foot in front of me. As soon as I felt secure enough to stand on the old boards of the attic floor, I began to feel around for some sort of light switch. I felt around for a few moments before I felt something brush against my face causing me to shriek in terror.

“Oh God, Please don’t be a spider,” I prayed as I reached forward.

I sighed in relief as a dim light chased away the darkness, revealing rows and rows of old boxes as well as the light string that I thought was a spider web. A giggle left my mouth at my unintentional dramatics.

Scanning all the boxes that were laid out in front of me, I quickly realized that most of them were labeled in the Head Maids swirly handwriting. I never thought I would be so thankful for her meticulous organization skills. Moving my way past the newer boxes (That were just bits and pieces that used to decorate the Manor) I quickly came across my mothers things. They seemed to have been pulled out from the far back of the storage space, judging by the drag marks that lead from the collection of boxes back into the blanket of darkness that still covered much of the attic. They also weren’t as dusty as I would have thought, since they had been up here for over 20 years. 

I knelt down in front of the closest one, opening it up without consulting the label on the side. I don't mind looking through mother’s stuff, since I was never allowed to before. The old box was filled to the brim with simple tops and skirts, the kind I remember her wearing whenever we didn't have to look fancy for one of fathers guests. A small smile pulled at my lips as I spotted mothers favorite top, a simple blue wrap top with long puffed sleeves. I gently picked it up, rubbing the soft fabric between my fingers. I hugged it to my chest, breathing in deeply. I could vaguely remember the scent of her perfume even though the only smell entering my nose was that of dust and old wood.

I quickly placed that top in my bag and moved onto the next box, and the next, and the next. I only found clothes and shoes for the next five boxes, but luck was on my side as I opened the seventh. Inside was a collection of framed photos; ones that my father had taken down and stored away after mother passed. I slowly sifted through them, smiling at the memories before setting them aside. Eventually one caught my eye. 

This one was different. Nearly all of the photos were professional ones, where we were all dressed proper in gowns and a suit… but this one. It was the one mother had beside her bed. It was of the three of us, like all the others, but instead of stiff smiles and proper clothes, the photo captured us during one of the rare moments when we were all together in the garden. I was maybe 3, sitting on my fathers shoulders, smiling down at the sloppy flower crown that sat on his head. He looked disgruntled but you could clearly see the happiness shining in his eyes as he looked towards the camera. my mother stood next to him, caught in a fit of giggles as her equally as sloppy flower crown slipped down her head.