The Watch

The future yawned in front of Edmund. He saw himself standing atop a massive pile of money, his cousins by his side as the other families bowed to the Mouldes. He saw the city grow and Moulde Hall rise even taller than ever before. He saw the gardens expand and cover the grounds, with animals from far off lands roaming through the forest like sentries. The larders were packed with exotic foods and the kitchen full of ten chefs, all cooking anything but soup, constantly. Every dining hall would be full of guests every night, as would each ballroom and sitting room, while Edmund would sit like a king in the library, on his throne of science, engineering, and literature.

He would show them all!

Slowly, through the mist of his imagination, a faint ticking sound reached Edmund’s ears. Looking around, Edmund realized that the ticking was coming from the false bottomed chest.

Reaching into the chest, he Edmund fished around until he pulled a large brass pocket watch out of the false bottom. It was extremely ornate, with twisting ornamentation that curved around the cover like curls of smoke. Carved into the back with an elaborate script was the Moulde family motto. Edmund popped open the cover to see the curvaceous and elegant hands that pointed to sharp spidery numbers. As he watched, the long hand flicked a hair’s breadth closer to the hour.

When his fascination with the craftsmanship faded, he realized the watch had no spring-winder. He twisted at the catch, and turned the watch over and over in his hand to find a key-hole, but there was nothing. Yet somehow, this watch that could not be wound had been ticking for at least six generations.

The watch felt heavier in Edmund’s hand. Even Camelot fell, he thought. How long would his kingdom last? And what good would it do for him to take what he could and live like a tyrant? When he died, he would end up as nothing more than a pile of bones in a rotting crypt beneath a lonely house on a hill. And he would probably die young from some sort of accident, so his children could take over…

…Memento Mori.

Some day he would die, and all that would be left of him would be dry bones and cobwebs and…And whatever mechanisms he had wound up and set in motion.

No, he thought. He stuffed the writs into his pocket, and stood up, feeling foolish. If Plinkerton could create something that could last for six generations, than so could Edmund. He was going to save the family for good, whether they wanted to or not, and he was going to do it his way. Not like King Arthur, or his cousins, but like a watch.

Both a watch and the human body was made out of purpose. Every piece had a job to do, and they all worked together to make something greater.

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