Staring at me, "Grandfather" asked, "Do you mind if I use my appraisal skill on you, Faye?"

Feeling like it was one of those test questions he annoyingly tended to ask, I replied frankly, "Yes." But then I promptly added, "But since I have [Identification], being appraised sometimes helps level up that skill. So, as long as it does, I don’t particularly mind, though I might complain at times."

This tendency of him to appraise me likely stemmed from the fact that, eleven years ago, through [Appraisal] he noticed the particularity that I was born with, which makes it that each time I reincarnate, I spawn with either a skill or an ability, and if I was fortunate, both.

Identification was one such skill I was spawned with. Like the old man's appraisal, it wasn't an actively offensive skill like [Frost Shard] or a passively offensive skill like [Winter Clutch], nor was it a defensive skill. They were both interface analysis skills, cousins to one another, fulfilling similar purposes but accomplishing them through different means. One worked analytically only on live targets or entities, while the other worked exclusively on inanimate targets. Therefore, they were best acquired as a bundle rather than separately, as having just one would mean missing out on half of the analytical features.

Perhaps because he lacked the other skill in the analytical bundle, or perhaps because he wanted to keep a close eye on me given my unusual circumstances at birth—likely a combination of both—he developed the nasty habit of appraising me whenever the opportunity arose. Ironically there were indeed changes, but these changes were brought about as a consequence of his continuous appraisals. These changes didn’t happen overnight, but rather emerged gradually over time.

Picking up on the appraisals I was subjected to, [Identification] became, at the tender age of four, the first skill I ever leveled up beyond level 1. Recognizing that this progress was a result of his actions, he began appraising me even more frequently, turning these sessions into perhaps the earliest form of training I had ever undergone.

"Beautifully said. Such a unique skill is to be leveled up to its maximum potential, regardless of the discomfort it brings about. In the long run, this discomfort will be nothing. You understand that. I guess I can’t expect the same from someone who wasn’t born with such a skill," he said, casting a glance at his son, who very much heard what was said about him but feigned not hearing anything.

Already fed up with this unwanted interaction, I asked, "Grandfather, you summoned me. Is there something you wanted to tell me in particular?"

"Something to tell you, huh? Couldn’t it just be that I wanted to see my granddaughter?"

As if I'd believe that.

I was pondering how to respond when I heard his son say, "Well, your granddaughter isn’t gullible enough to believe that’s just the case," he remarked sarcastically.

"And yet it is," the old man asserted, then turned his attention toward me before awkwardly reaching for my head.

What’s the deal with this old man today? I couldn’t help but seethe internally.

Perhaps sensing my reluctance to this loving display, or perhaps realizing that it didn't suit him, the old man removed his hand from my head and said, "I take it you must be very exhausted after your training. I won’t take much of your time." With those words, he led me away to a corner of the room, away from his son.

"I’ve seen you’ve managed to level up your ice magic."

"Yes, Grandfather," having had the same conversation a few minutes ago and foreseeing where it was heading, I added, "I also leveled [Cryogenize], [Hydroblast], and [Winter Clutch] to level 3."

Aware of how heavily invested he was in my leveling, this was the only way I could think of to avoid hearing another remark about how I should have chosen the mage class instead of the sorceress class.

"I see," he said, then chuckled, gazing to the side. Following his gaze, my sight landed on a large painting on the wall.

His chuckle didn’t stop soon and turned into laughter, which then turned into a cough.

"Grandfather? You’re alright?"

"It’s alright, it’s nothing. I’m alright. I just found it ironically laughable that six generations after my grandfather made the decision to marry a highbreed, thus making our Weiß family a highbreed family, the latest generation, which happened to be the generation that gave birth to someone closest to what our family has ever dreamed of, gave birth to a highbreed with no typical highbreed characteristics."

In Fiendfell, Highbreed were one of the three subraces of what was in this world called humanity, other than Peons and Verdenkind.

Highbreed was a subrace of mankind known mainly for three things:

First, it was a subrace that had the unique characteristic to pass on the hereditary trait of having access to the system. With that characteristic, there is thus no such thing as a half-highbreed. The moment a highbreed is involved as one of the biological parents, the subrace of the other parent matters not; the children born will be a highbreed, just like the children of that highbreed. They will be, like Verdenkind, humans having access to the system.

Second, it was a subrace of humanity that was granted the unique access to one additional levelable attribute—faith, on top of the conventional six—Strength, Agility, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma.

Third, Highbreed were a subrace of humanity that more usually than not possessed an innate affinity for healing and holy-type skills, making it very easy to spontaneously acquire the said-skills. But that wasn’t all; healing and holy skills were skills that scaled to the additional faith attribute they were born with like a barbarian's skills scaled to the strength attribute.

This inherent advantage provided by their additional levelable attribute made them exceptionally well-suited for cleric or paladin classes and subclasses, where their prowess in healing and holy magic shines brightest. That being said, while it’s common, it is not always the case for every Highbreed; there are exceptions.

Having never acquired either healing or holy-type skills, not due to lack of trying to acquire them—I have tried through different types of training that could help me spontaneously acquire one of the two types of skills my fellow Highbreed are known to acquire without much struggle—I was one such exception.

That being said, I wasn’t a unique exception per se. In fact, in this family, I had two other siblings who, while being around the same age as me, didn’t acquire any of these two kinds of skills, but still, it was a little disheartening. Not that I particularly wanted to become a Cleric or a Paladin, but since I got to be born as a Highbreed in this incarnation, I wanted to at least acquire all these features Highbreeds are praised for. Instead, what I got was Ice Magic. Not that I’m complaining though, but I believed that had I been born with these skills or awakened these skills later on like most Highbreed, I would’ve been spared half of the remarks usually made about my class choice.

"Sorry for that…"

"What are you apologizing for Child? There wasn’t much you could do about it. This is something no one except fate has control over. You can’t be blamed for having no inherent predisposition for healing magic or holy magic. Though I have to admit, I would’ve loved seeing you do, and perhaps became a paladin."

Too bad for you, that will never happen.

Out of the two classes, cleric and paladin, if I were to choose one out of the two, paladin is what I was less likely to become. It was a class that hybridized physical and magical abilities. In other words, paladins were halfway between a conventional warrior or knight and a mage or sorcerer, leaning mostly toward the two former than the latter. It was a class in which it was best if one were predisposed with skills that dealt physical damage like swordsmanship. However, despite all the training I went through and how easily this skill is said to be acquired for a classless, I never managed to acquire [Swordsmanship] and most likely never will, until perhaps I reach the dual-class milestone. Understanding that, I began focusing on what I currently knew I had talent in—skills that dealt magical damage.

Sliding a short glance my way before refocusing onto the large painting in front of him, the old man asked, "Do you know whose painting this is?"

I nodded.

The painting was that of a man. He stood tall, his auburn hair cascading around his shoulders like flames caught in a gentle breeze. Atop his head rested a large silver crown, regal in its simplicity, devoid of ostentation but commanding reverence nonetheless. His attire struck a balance between warrior and dignitary, adorned with meticulously crafted animal hides that lent an air of sophistication to the ensemble, elevating it beyond mere battle garb to ceremonial regalia.

A broad leather belt encircled his waist, from which hung a scimitar, its hilt polished to a gleaming sheen. On his left side, a dagger nestled snugly against his hip, its blade glinting in the subdued light of the chamber. But it was the object in his hand that drew the most intrigue—a short staff, slender yet sturdy, its purpose disguised beneath the guise of a cane. Only those familiar with the way of magic would discern its true nature, for nestled at its tip lay a large azure crystal, its depths, while frozen in the painting, looked like they were swirling with untold mysteries.

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"—his Majesty Desmond, the first Fifth King under his Imperial Majesty Cleon the First and Only."

To the first part of my answer, the old man smiled and nodded in pride, "Indeed, this is our ancestor, his Majesty Desmond, also known as the Mage Warrior, the father of our Weiß family’s founder."

That was right, the Weiß family found its roots back to a king, a Verdenkind king, who, along with seven kings, followed the current emperor through a 424-year rule until his death at the ripe age of 612.

612….That sure didn’t sound like an age where someone normally lives, but with something such as the system bestowing skills onto living beings of this world, this was not too surprising to hear. In fact, I could easily name what skill allowed him to live that long. It was a skill called longevity, wielded by all seven kings and the emperor, who managed to level the skill to its paroxism, granting him virtual eternal life. Meanwhile, it granted his kings, who didn’t manage to accomplish such a feat, an elongated lifespan, allowing them to serve their emperor for hundreds of years.

Had it not been for the fact that he knew I've already heard all of it, I could tell that the old man would've taken pride in explaining to me how our ancestor became king. He would have delighted in recounting the unparalleled feat of the ancestor, who made it past level 100 as a Battlemage—a dual class between mage and warrior—and leveled his longevity skill up to level 4. He would have described how, after the acquisition of Cleon, the First and Only, of the monarch class with the help of the First and Second King, he was offered the title of [King] by the Emperor, allowing him to become the Fifth King under the emperor's rule and establish the foundation of the later-to-be-created Weiß Royal dynasty.

Making a few steps to the right, he arrived before the painting right next to it. In the adjacent painting stood another figure, mirroring the noble bearing of the man in the previous painting yet marked by subtle deviations. Like the first, he stood tall and commanding, his auburn locks flowing freely around his shoulders, though lacking the regal crown that adorned the head of his predecessor. His attire, reminiscent of the first man's, bore the hallmarks of a warrior and statesman, the finely crafted animal hides lending an air of refinement to the ensemble. A broad leather belt cinched his waist, much like the other's, but instead of cradling a scimitar, it held aloft a white sword of exquisite craftsmanship. Its equally white hilt, adorned with shimmering gems, spoke of wealth and luxury, contrasting with the understated elegance of the first man's weaponry.

Though his overall garb portrayed the man as a warrior, there lingered mainly in his posture an air of emulation that struck me as evident. I mainly blame that impression on his empty hands, and also the fact that knowing the history of the man in the picture, I knew that had to be the case of what was going on here.

"Son of our ancestor, King Desmond… his Highness Aemond—the one who ushered in the Weiß’s royal dynasty."

Prior to Aemond, who later established the Weiß’s royal family, King Desmond, while being "king," ruled over nothing. For the most part, he lived as he’d always lived, a Battlemage seeking nothing but strength. He treated his title of King as just what it was for the most part—a System Title that provided him with several boosts that he deemed useful. It was only later in his long lifetime, when he had his son—a peon—that with his kingly support, his son established the Royal family and ruled over it.

That was the feats of this Peon prince. In a world that greatly valued power manifested through earth-splintering skills and law-altering abilities, it couldn't be argued that his feats were nowhere near as impressive as those of his kingly father, but he managed to establish a dynasty that lasted several generations.

Staring at the picture for a few more seconds, the old man moved on to the next picture. Unlike the previous ones, he didn’t spend much time in front of them, instead moving on, navigating through the gallery that showcased the successive heads of the Weiß royal family following Prince Aemond. He bypassed several paintings with only a cursory glance, his pace unhurried yet deliberate, until he arrived at a particular piece that compelled both of us to a standstill.

Him because the person in the picture ushered a new age for his family, and me because I’d heard about the bastard in the painting in a previous life of mine.

Unlike the previous paintings, which captured single figures within their frames, this one depicted two: a man and a woman. The man bore a striking resemblance to his forebear, King Desmond; his stature lofty, and his hair shared the same distinctive shade of auburn. Yet, his facial features, while echoing the royal lineage, thankfully hinted at enough variation to dispel any immediate concerns of, well, incest—which, let’s be honest with ourselves, wouldn’t be all that surprising for royals. Something unique about the man in the painting was that, unlike the previous painting where neither figure wore a crown save for King Desmond, he did. He wore a silver crown—one that could easily be inferred to be the same one King Desmond wore.

Standing next to him was a woman. She appeared younger than the man, who literally towered over her with his height. While he looked to be in his mid-forties, she looked like she was in her early twenties, if not late teens. But most importantly, what stood out the most about her were her hair—she had black hair, which is now more or less the trademark of the Weiß family.

It was at that moment, as I saw the old man stare at me with a frown, just like Ane behind me, that I realized what they were staring at me for : the expression on my face.

I instantly dispelled it for a more acceptable one. Guessing why he glanced at me, I recited through and through as if I’d been quizzed, "I know who these two are. They were Grandfather’s grandparents, his Highness Desmond IV Weiß and his beloved Lady Rafaella, the Highbreed Princess of the Wöhppr faith," before promptly elaborating on what the couple was known for.

While the Longevity skill enabled the emperor who managed to level the skill to its limit to be virtually immortal, and his kings who weren’t able to achieve feat but nonetheless managed to level the skill to a point where they’d been granted an elongated lifetime. But an elongated lifetime, meant that they, unlike their emperor, weren’t immortal.

After hundreds of years, time caught up with the kings who weren’t able to level their longevity skill. This is what happened to the Weiß ancestor—his Majesty Desmond. After having lived for almost six centuries, the Weiß dynasty, having existed for a little over a century and a half, was about to lose its greatest support—its king. This, as anyone could easily suspect, brought about an unprecedented crisis within the Weiß family. They understood that without their ancestor, their king, they would be, in the eyes of the emperor and the other existing kingly factions, no different than any other peons. They had pride, but at least they were realistic about the power-hungry and strength-worshiping nature of this world.

While there was nothing they could do to fix the impending death of their king, they understood that they had to produce someone who could take over the role of support that their king provided. The then heir to the Weiß dynasty was aware that this was something he could not do himself, since unlike his grandfather, who was a Verdenkind, he was nothing but a "Peon". However, it was something that could be done by the heir he would produce. Being a peon himself, he knew that the chance of him producing a Verdenkind was low, and it was a bet with a high risk of no payoff.

It was then that he understood that the only way for him to produce an heir that may replace his ancestor—or at the very least grant him the tool to even attempt to do so—was to marry a Highbreed. Regardless of whether one of the parents was a Verdenkind or a Peon, the child born of a union with at least one Highbreed would be a Highbreed. In light of that, and a signed alliance with those of the Wöhppr Faith, one of the three main worship factions of the land of Men, Desmond IV Weiß married Lady Rafaella, an Highbreed Princess of mysterious origins. Thus, the Weiß family, which had thus far been a officially Verdenkind, but mostly peons dynasty, became a Highbreed dynasty until it came to an end not too long after the death of King Desmond.

"It was hopeless… It was then, to at least ensure our family's survival, that he agreed to put an end to the Weiß dynasty, demoting the Weißs from a Royal family to a Ducal family." The old man seemed to be trying to decipher the expression I had accidentally let slip. He stared at me for a moment before giving up and looking back at the painting, nodding in agreement. "It is just as you said, our great family has been demoted from a Royal dynasty to being kings of nothing but empty land," he chuckled bitterly, having most likely witnessed the event with his own two eyes. It took him a few moments to abstract his feelings from that event before he said, "I don’t know if you’ve been told before, but it is that you are named after."

Raising my glance, I looked at the black-haired woman in the painting. "Faye… Rafaella."

So, that's where my name came from. Here I was, thinking that woman had at least the decency to find a unique name for me. I guess that was too much to expect.

"I see," I mumbled, my curiosity piqued. "What kind of woman was she?"

The old man closed his eyes, as if reminiscing, "She was strict but kind. She looked frail but was strong, stronger than anyone else in our family back then."

"What level was she?" I asked, considering my own struggles with leveling.

"She… Now that I think about it, she hated being appraised too."

To be frank with you Old man I can’t imagine someone liking that. Save perhaps masochists.

"She was a level 22 Cleric." Having reached level 5 myself and understanding how increasingly difficult it is to raise one's level, I could genuinely praise the achievement. "She was strong."

"She was," he confirmed, his voice carrying a mix of respect and nostalgia.

While hesitant, I ventured to ask about the man beside her in the painting, "And… him, how was he?"

"Him? Grandfather was wise… and avenant. I used to believe him to be a coward for choosing this outcome over any other. But I was young then. Now, I'm old, and I understand that it had to be done. Had it not been done, with how much people envied what we had, there would be no Weiß family anymore."

I nodded, absorbing his words.

"We may no longer be kings, but we can still be," he said, smiling as he took a few steps forward, walking past a portrait of himself, crownless, next to which was a painting of his son, also without a crown. "I won't be there to see it, but one day, a painting of your little brother Cleon will hang next to his father's," he said, pointing at an empty spot next to the last painting.

"Come on, Father, you're not that old," my valet of father said, walking up to us.

Completely ignoring his son, the old man continued, "My dream is that one day, beside Cleon's painting, yours will also be hung there."

The gallery displayed portraits of the lineage of the king and family heads of the Weiß family, formerly royal, from the oldest to the newest member. I was a girl in a strangely patriarchal society like this one; despite being older than my younger brother, he would be the one at the head of the family. Yet, for him to wish to see my portrait there meant that my portrait was not to be hung there as a token of family status but rather through that of a king.

"I will do my best so that it is the case."

He smiled, then solemnly said, "Then you see me relieved. From the day I saw you—born with that same skill I saw the ancestor die with—I could tell that you’d be the one. You may have not chosen the same class as he did, but I won’t doubt your choice. I just hope that they’ll lead you to and hopefully beyond the height our ancestor reached, and that once you do, you restore our family name to its former glory."

I looked him in the eyes. "I will," I lied tersely.

"Let us hope so."

Sorry, old man, if I ever get that powerful, I doubt that restoring this family name to its former glory will be what I'd be doing.