The family fought bitterly over the box. It was beautiful, looking as though it were covered in gold and gems. They felt for certain whomever inherited it would find wealth within. The youngest two siblings asked only for the small wooden box that had been left out in the rain by the woodshed. The youngest two would never go hungry again. -- Fighting Fit
The jocular saying goes, "Where there's a will, there's an angry relative." It could not be more true in well-to-do families. The arguments over money, property, and treasured little gewgaws can drag on long before the head of the family shows any sign of decline.
For the Kazimarov family, the chief argument was over Marilow's treasure box. Which appeared to be solid gold, locked, and kept in a pride of place. Future ownership of the treasure box had devolved into fistfights every Midwinterfeast party.
There were other boxes, other containers of varying merit. Others that were battled over by all of Marilow Kazimarov's family. Both biological and adopted. Marilow grumbled and told them to stop all the bickering, that the things they were fighting for were not worth what they thought they were worth. Only the youngest of Marilow's adoptees didn't fight. They were barely teens and more afraid of losing their only stable family than anything else.
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