But still, Elio didn't know what to do next.When he first came here, he spent his time with his grandmother,helping her with daily chores, help her with cooking, and gardening. He would hang out with the people from the vilge , would go walk on clif with his grandmother. That was before his grandmother passed away.

  For the past year or so, he had spent his days walking along the cliffs, fishing, and sitting in the garden, reading the same book over and over again.

  As winter began to fade, on one quiet evening, he remembered something his grandfather used to say when he was alive:

  "When you're uncertain about something, always ask the elders. You don't have to follow their advice, but those old fossils have time as their experience. They've made the same mistakes young folks do. Just listen—you might find your answer."Elio sat in silence, thinking for a long time. Both of his grandparents are dead. His father? He'd only nag him to stay home and help his bother with the family business so that was out of the question.

  The rest of the elders in the family weren’t much better. They’d just try to force him into marriage, thinking that would fix everything.

  After a long mind Storm,only one name came to mind: the former Baron of the region Mr. Robertson.He had been his grandfather’s closest friend in college, and technically, family. He’d married Elio’s grandmother’s sister, thus making him Elio’s grand-uncle.

  In his youth, Robertson had been an adventurer, tavelling around countries and seeking the unknown. Later, he become a knight for the country. He was regarded as one of the strongest of his generation.

  Now, he lived a quiet life in the barony, where all of his ancestor lived, retired but still sharp.If anyone could offer real advice honest, experienced, and unfiltered it would be him.The decision was final.

  The next morning, the first thing Elio did was head down to his grandfather’s celr and pick out the oldest bottle of alcohol he could find.

  His grandfather had been a true connoisseur,an alcohol fanatic, really. His collection used to so overwhelming, with shelves lined by rare vintages and foreign spirits. Back when he was alive, he and Robertson would often drink together te into the night, swapping stories over dusty old bottles.

  After his grandfather’s death, Elio’s grandmother gave away most of the collection to family members, but she held onto the rarest ones for Elio. The celr, and its contents, now belonged to him.

  He could probably unch a successful wine business with what was down there. But he didn’t want that. Truth be told, he didn’t even enjoy drinking all that much.

  Still, tonight was different. This bottle wasn’t for business . It was a gesture of respect maybe a payment for priceless advice.That evening, with the rare wine carefully packed, Elio set out to visit Mr. Robertson.

  As winter is ending it's cycle, the days grew longer. Most of the snow had melted, though the air retained a hint of chill. The vilge began to come back to life . Soldiers of the barony resumed their patrols, farmers returned to their fields, and children pyed around the bustling market square.

  The market buzzed with activity, merchants bringing in goods from distant regions. After the quiet of winter, the small barony at the country's end was awakening.

  Elio greeted some familiar faces as he passed, exchanging nods and brief conversations. He continued his walk, traversing the forest path that led up the mountain. At the summit stood a modest mansion, overlooking the barony on one side and the endless sea on the other.