maybe the manager, though the intensity at which he studied me, left me bit unsure of myself. It brought me back to my days at school when the most popular boy would look at me for a second, and I’d completely turn into a klutz and forget my own name. That was this man in front of me, affecting me that much.
"Too much violence, especially after the discoveries on how uranium can be used. There was a time when being a smithy specialist was very dangerous in this part of the world."
"Oh, right. I can see that." We started walking through the dust-covered road heading up to the house. Taking everything in was currently all that I could concentrate on. I would put it all together later on. "So... what do you do here?"
"I was brought on to be a caretaker after the last one passed away," he replied. "It is a lot of work, and I am only just getting started, but again, I see a great deal of potential in this place."
"Well then, Roge... Rogel..." I paused, trying to remember the name that he'd given me.
"Your aunt called me Rog," he said, like he had been anticipating my difficulty.
"Okay, Rog, I have to say that I have absolutely no idea how a vineyard should be run. I honestly don't even know what I'm doing here." I waved my hands around as we approached the house. "I'm a journalist by trade. I gave up on my heritage a while ago, so I don't know what exactly it is that you expect me to do around here."
"You can look into the possibilities that this place gives off," Rog noted. "You see the surface, but I see the bones of this place. They are well-rooted, old and powerful. In the right hands, it could be a true beauty."
"I can assure you that these"—I looked down at my hands—"are not the right hands."
"No, but mine might be, but we have workers that come in casually from surrounding villages to work the land." He smirked. "Come, let me show you to the cellar."
I still had a lot of questions, but I had a feeling that they would be met with more talk of the possibilities that this place had. He was right; I couldn't see past the surface. Maybe someone else would.
"Would you like to buy this place from me?" I asked as he pulled the external cellar door open, turning the lights on as he descended into it. "You obviously care about it, and I... don't."
"You feel like your time would be wasted here?" He turned back to look at me.
In the dimmer light of the cellar, there was something considerably different about him. The heat radiating from him was almost visible, and the gleam in his eyes almost felt like it was a little too intense to be coming from the naked light bulbs illuminating the cellar.
"In so many words," I managed to answer through the dryness of my throat.
"We can discuss that." He pulled a couple of glasses out and started filling them with a bright ruby liquid from one of the nearby casks. "But it might involve discussing how you enjoy wasting your time. We all have our vices that have no point aside from bringing us personal satisfaction."
"Sure." I took the glass that he offered me and sniffed the contents like I knew I was supposed to, while twirling the glass gently. It sure as hell smelled like red wine.
I took a sip, and while the smell was consistent with wines that I'd tasted in the past, the taste was a little off. Something coppery that filled my tastebuds in a way that made me wince.
"This place makes a strong brew, but I think you'll find that it agrees with you." Rog took a sip from his glass.
The door to the cellar opened up again, and I turned to see a familiar face coming down.
"Mr. Batten, wasn't it?" I asked, have startled to see him. "What are you doing here?"
"Just finishing the business that my firm has in the area," the lawyer answered. "I figured that since we are both here, we might as well get all the paperwork out of the way."
"That's... coincidental," I noted, thankful at least for the distraction, which let me put the glass of wine down on a nearby table as Batten placed his papers on it as well.
"Hardly," Batten replied. "Getting all of this out of the way is sort of the