Heroism, Hope and Litigation

Within the gloomily dated confines of her childhood home, Jessica sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting the final pieces of paperwork left over in her father’s study. Mostly it was just notes on his favorite subjects and hobbies, whatever they were at the time. It all seemed rather useless to her personally, but she still diligently created folders for each subject and filed them alphabetically into waiting boxes for storage.

Edward Jonas Maylin had passed away rather suddenly four months earlier. The funeral was held three days later. He had been a rather eccentric character to most who had known him, having shunned society almost completely, preferring the company of his family and a small handful of close friends.

Her mother had often chided her husband with vigorous mock-protests on his anti-social behavior.

“Edward Maylin, you were born to wealth and the societal obligations that accompany it; yet you proudly scorn them all!” Jessica could hear the pitch and tonal inflections of her mother’s voice in her head, as well as the hearty outburst of laughter that always followed such comments, just before kissing her husband with obvious approval.

Her parents had met during their first year of law school. They had both passed with honors and obtained their licences to practice with ease, only for both of them to pack it in completely two years later. Her father had inherited well from his parents; once he noticed just how much he hated the corporate ladder he encouraged his wife to quit along with him to play the stock-market instead. They did so with great success.

This afforded Jessica and her siblings a very comfortable life, with both of their parents home and present for their upbringing.

She laughed out loud, thinking of her own squandered law degree… and wished wholeheartedly that she only understood stocks in the same way her parents had.

Her mother had died of brain-cancer a year earlier, and Jessica was convinced her father’s sudden decline was due to a broken heart. The saddest part was that he knew it was coming and therefore had settled the majority of his affairs before passing. All four of his surviving children inherited well and with minimal additional obligations. They each received some property, to do with as they pleased, and the fortune was divided evenly between them.

Her brothers Edward Junior and Robert had sold their properties; condos in New York and London respectively, and pooled their cash together to be reinvested in their shared business. It was apparently booming, and the influx of cash would propel them into their next phase of growth two whole years earlier than planned. They clearly loved the ladder more than their parents had, and Jessica wished them well.

Her sister Allison had instead decided to renovate her Bungalow in Hawaii to be rented out, preferring the quiet and modest home she lived in with her family. She had chosen to work as a nurse and had no intentions of retiring just because she had inherited comfortably. Jessica knew instinctively that Alison would be smart with her inheritance.

As for Jessica, her own inheritance sat in her account completely untouched, she was still cleaning the contents of the family home and figured she’d use some of it on renovating the place afterwards. However, she was in no rush; Jessica was very literally taking her time. Every morning she would wake up, do her yoga and then walk twenty minutes to her favorite coffee shop to buy a vanilla soy latte, which could be sipped leisurely as she contemplated her day’s activities; knowing full well that she’d probably only accomplish half of them.

However, four months of this routine did eventually lead her to the study, the final room. Out of all of them, even her own bedroom, she had been surprised to find that she had spent most of her time just in this room alone. The study wasn’t exactly off limits when they were children, but their father certainly didn’t like them being in it without him being present as well.

She loved being nestled between its walls, and it pained her to still be able to smell his presence within it, but not be able to reach out and hug him just one more time.

Jessica tried to shift the emotions that stirred beneath her eyelids by thinking about what to do with herself once she had completed the house…a pit of anxiety formed at the base of her stomach.

She had never really known what she wanted out of life; she knew she longed for it to be quiet but useful, and couldn’t fathom such a thing being possible in the fast paced strut of modern life.

Jessica turned her thoughts back towards her father; sad but familiar ground. She wasn’t surprised he had given her the family home; out of all his children, they had been the closest, and had shared many talks in his study. Talks the others neither wanted nor needed, but she had.

“I’ve always seen more of myself in you than in the others, Jess.” He had always said at the end of one of those conversations. “You may not know what you want from life, but all I ever knew for sure was that I loved the Law…till ethical considerations forced me to abandon it. After that I simply didn’t have a clue…it found me in the end, and I think it will find you too.”

A single knock, followed by the loud metallic snap of the letter box told her the mail had been delivered. Jessica looked at the sheet of paper currently in her hand, a section on the construction of ant colonies, and filed it with the other pages containing details on swarming insects.

She rose, grateful for the distraction. She arrived at the front door to three letters and a handful of leaflets advertising unwanted wares. She tossed the leaflets in the recycling container without looking at them, and proceeded to open the first envelope. It was a written notification from her lawyers that her previous home had been sold successfully, and that all of her details and affairs had been transferred over to her new property.

She looked for further instructions, but only saw a note that an itemized bill would follow shortly. She placed it on the pile of her own paperwork for later, and moved on to the next item of mail.

It contained a card with a formal invitation to a ball being held in her honor…to welcome her to the neighborhood, and their society, as the newest Member of Influence in the area… She thought of her father and popped the card into the recycling as well. Initially, she had politely replied to decline each time; it had been almost a month since she stopped being polite, yet the invitations kept coming.

She moved on to the final envelope; it was not addressed to her or to anyone she recognized. It bore no address, just two words in handwriting that looked hauntingly familiar; The Archivist.

Jessica knew better than to open mail that didn’t belong to her, but the lack of address limited her options, it was not like some accidental delivery she could just go drop off at the correct house. She held it against the sunlight and could only see dense edges of the paper within.

She’d never heard of her father being referred to as an Archivist before…but he did sort of hoard information. This, along with the familiarity of the handwriting, she figured it was in all likelihood addressed to him.

Perhaps by some long lost friend who’s unaware of him having passed?

The mystery was all too much and she resigned herself to her curiosity; she tore the end from the envelope, spilling its contents into her hands. A luxurious sheaf of papyrus with more of the familiar handwriting met her inquisitive gaze.

Archivist Maylin,

The time for mourning must be drawn to an end. The beacons need to be lit.

Those that require access have waited long enough, and you must make preparations on their behalf.

I know it is hard… it is for me also.

But, while our world may have come to a grinding halt, theirs is still spinning… and you must help them to keep it so.

Jessica was certainly intrigued, but couldn’t possibly fathom what it meant at all. She kept reading avidly, hoping some clarity would dawn sooner rather than later.

If you are reading this, I am gone and you are our only remaining hope; the last light left to illuminate those rocks that wish to break passing ships asunder.

Jessica gasped as something clicked; it was her mother’s handwriting!

Her father had confessed, not long before he passed, that she had written him a letter to be delivered shortly after her death, and that it had given him enough motivation to get out of his slump and do what was right.

This must be that letter!

What Jessica couldn’t understand was why it was written so archaically though… nor why it had ultimately ended up in her possession under almost similar circumstances.

The Archive lays dormant, and begs for its purpose!

Exhume the key from its grave, and bury your heartache.

Remove the skirted headstone to reveal your sacred duty, and turn your Hero’s lock once more.

Descend! Take up your mantle… and if it no longer fits… make sure to pass it on to one who will wear it well in your stead.

Then come find me.

I love you!

I miss you so much already!

Goodbye my Knight!

Sarah

A fat tear ran down Jessica’s cheek as she read those final words. Unlike the rest of it, they did sound like her mother.  She turned the page, to her dismay she found nothing more.

“Now what?” She asked rhetorically of the room.

She reread the letter several times; whilst it was all mysterious, she did have one clue which she could attempt to act on: Remove the skirted headstone to reveal your sacred duty, and turn your Hero’s lock once more.

“A skirted headstone and a Hero’s lock…they feel like two separate and probably sequential things.” She mulled aloud, hoping it would help trigger some inspiration.

“A skirted headstone.” She returned to the study and opened her laptop to Google it, wondering if she had missed some odd trend. She found images of gravestones with lavish gardens extending over the grave. Both her parents had opted for cremation, so she scrolled down to find some skirts with gravestone patterns. Jessica highly doubted her mother had ever owned anything like it, but if she had it would have been donated to goodwill, along with all her other clothes.

“Nope.” Jessica concluded and got up. She paced through the study then looked about her father’s remaining books and belongings resting on the shelves.

“The letter indirectly references death quite often… perhaps that’s a bit misleading? The skirt is unique though.” She focused on their family pictures and stared checking behind all of those containing anyone wearing either a dress or a skirt, but found nothing.

She resumed pacing. “Um… Skirted... Skirting?” She ran to the first corner available and started investigating the skirting boards; pressing down hard as she made her way around the room. She struck gold right behind her father’s old desk. A small click preceded a very satisfying Ping, and a small panel fell open to reveal a brass key. It wasn’t very big, but it felt old and heavy.

“Now all I need is the Hero’s lock… who was my father’s hero?” She gazed upwards at his books and smiled broadly as her eyes locked on his favorite novel. Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

She walked over to it with confidence and pulled it from the shelf; peering intently into the cavity it had exposed… nothing again.

“Damn!” Jessica had been so confident she had found the answer that she hadn’t planned on being denied so unceremoniously. Consumed by the haze of frustration, she started pulling down one book after another, stacking them neatly on and around his desk. She felt a small pang of hope as she pulled his collection of Dickens from the shelves, and again as she approached Tolkien; but had to swallow disappointment each time.

As she approached the final dozen books, Jessica knew it wouldn’t be behind any of them; but still proceeded to pull them all down anyway. Her disappointment deepened as she realized the lock may just be within one of the books…

She expelled the longest and most plaintive sigh; feeling deeply wounded by the treasure hunt. Then, with another breath, got over herself and went back to the task at hand.

Jessica collected the boxes she had set aside for her father’s books; she checked each one with great care for some sort of secret compartment or easily spotted clue, but saw none. At the same time, she considered each volume to assess if she wanted to keep them in her own collection. She ultimately kept most of them, and only packed two boxes with books pertaining to subjects that were either dated or irrelevant.  

Those she kept went back on the shelves; adjusting the family pictures and her father’s trinkets as she went about the task. She looked fondly at a picture of herself atop her beloved horse Amber, all muddy from some competition. She moved it aside with a smile, and at last, exposed the keyhole she had been searching for!

A lump jumped to her throat as the notion that she was her father’s hero tried to overwhelm her.

“Damn it! I can cry later!” She exclaimed as she hastily brushed away spilling tears.

She inserted the key and turned it. A muffled clunk resonated behind the wall, and the left edge of the bookcase directly ahead of her slid forwards, like a door gently pushed by a breeze.

“Got you!” She yelled triumphantly.

She dragged the bookcase-door forward to reveal a stairway descending into darkness; then pulled one of the half-full boxes into the doorway to act as a prop, and proceeded downwards.

Once she reached level ground, she couldn’t see anything, the light from the study not really illuminating much beyond its own designated area. She turned to look for a switch, and found one on the wall to her left, a short but ominous journey deeper into the abyss.

The lights themselves first flickered; then shone with a genial quality that inspired mystery, she turned and a loud gasp leapt from her mouth.

The room was enormous! It felt bigger than the hangar her father had hired for Junior’s flight lessons; except the hanger never had the privilege of being crammed with hundreds of tall bookshelves… all stacked full of books.

Ahead of her sat a very large desk; its surface held three, almost black, leather bound ledgers of varying sizes, another envelope, and a very thin layer of dust.

Jessica didn’t hesitate and went straight for the envelope, stopping just long enough to notice her name scrawled on top in her father’s hand. She tore it open unceremoniously and unfolded the letter containing his final words to her.

She started crying instantly.

My darling Jessica,

A massive well done to you!

As you know, your mother loved puzzles! And while her letter was perfectly clear to me, I figured it would be a fitting riddle for you… sort of like an initiation into our little secret.

I think she would have approved.

So, I should just get to it, right?

Your mother and I have been keeping a very big secret from all of you, but I now wish to entrust that secret to you.

If you want to include your siblings, you may… but I implore you to experience the weight of it on your own for a while, so you can fully understand what it was you would be sharing.

As far as your mother and I are concerned, only you are truly worthy!

Within these ledgers, you will find everything you need to know.

The smallest volume is the full summary of all my activities in the stock market, as well as some tips and tricks. In the back you will find a list of all my trusted contacts within the Trade.

Most importantly though, it contains the algorithms your mother designed to work the market most effectively.

Use. Them. Wisely!

The second volume contains details on the library, its contents, the A.I. that runs it, as well as the various quirks and eccentricities you need to be aware of.

And then there is the final ledger…this holds every case your mother and I ever worked on… We never stopped practicing law; we just did it from the shadows.

Our library is a private collection of about 30% literature and 70% legal academia. We also hold the most extensive reference guide on precedent setting and obscure cases, held anywhere on the planet.

Surprise!

Anyway… we used to scout out lawyers who appeared to want to do good things for good people; the ones who consistently took underdog and pro bono cases. Those that lacked the resources to fight against big-league law firms designed to overwhelm them.

Then… we helped them win.  

I know this is a lot; but you’ve been pining for a purpose for years now... So I guess you’ve inherited mine. Don’t worry; I’ve also left notes with details all over the place. I shall guide you as you explore.

And, if it is not what you want; all I ask is that you find a worthy successor.

I’ve put recommendations in the Pay-it-Forward journal, which you will find in the first drawer on your right.

I have loved watching you grow up… and I am so proud of the woman you have become!

Good luck!

I love you!

Dad