In his lifetime, there were several things of which Mihail had made rather a habit. Some were undoubtedly healthy — one could count his daily archery practice or penchant for walks among these — but others were arguably less so. Among these more unsavoury habits was his proclivity to thieve certain jewels and other pretty items from his sisters, but how could he resist when they had such lovely things, and he happened to want them all?

The only trouble with such a thing was that the Thanasi sisters were, as their family name almost demanded them to be, rather intelligent. They were not the sort who would fail to notice if one of their bracelets did not appear one morning, and they tended to realise quickly that their youngest brother was the one stealing the items in question, especially when he later wore them quite publically to some court event or another. Taking from them was not always a viable option.

On the other hand, Father was so often delirious (by his own views) that Mihail did not think he would ever know. And he certainly would not know if his often thought useless son happened to steal away one or another of the various trinkets dotted around the house. There were far too many little dramatic objects of unknown origin for anybody to notice, anyway, and something was bound to look exceptionally pretty either on him or somewhere in his room. It was unlikely he would find what he wanted, but the Thanasi family had always been rather excellent at hiding their secrets here and there. The house was large enough that were nooks and crannies in which nobody looked, hidden on shelves that were too high for the man to look or in back rooms that were never visited save for some staff member or another disappearing to clean.

Today, he was taking his attention to one of those back rooms where he assumed some mysteries must exist. His mother, at least, must have had some item she had hidden away before her passing, or Nethis or Thea or Evras in an attempt to stop him from finding their favourites. Besides, if he found nothing, then it would be easy enough to glean some gossip from the servants in his investigation that could prove useful elsewhere. He had long since learned how to find value in those things that seemed unhelpful to most others.

Mihail was in some half-dusty parlour around the back of the archontikó — the sort that was likely used for meetings some time long ago and was rarely disturbed nowadays save for certain illicit goings-on. It was much less fascinating than he had envisioned when he had chosen the spot for his investigation, and his eyes were not drawn anywhere in particular. It was the type of immediate failure that almost drew him to flop onto one of the disused klines in irritation, but his family were nothing if not greatly tenacious, and he was as stubborn as the rest of them. If he wanted, then he was determined to get.

It was lucky, then, that his eyes drifted naturally upwards and spotted a small chest balanced on the head of some tall cupboard whose top he would never have seen typically. It was impossible to reach without some help, but its position and relative decoration made it feel worth the effort, so Mihail dragged out one of the old chairs with an unceremonious scrape across the marble flooring, pulling it close to the shelving. He was not the best at balancing — it was never a skill that had been thoroughly necessary — but he held himself on his tiptoes as he reached for it, quite hoping he would not fall.

This was sure to hold some lost treasure or another.