104: MILK AND TEA

"Your baby sister is weird!"

A messy brat burst noisily through the wooden window of my soap shed. It is such a great shock that my young maid Abbey screams and clammers under the table. Thank you, Abbey. A more than adequate reaction to this sitcom.

I've been busy lately trying to pretend I don't have a sister.

Impossible given the major plot to this story but the keyword is 'trying'. Especially during these very boring 'safe' periods of growing up. I've been ignoring she exists. Not when she gets to play with Gable and I don't.

Of course, that means Grampa too but still! Trips to Gables? Playtime with Gable?!!

While I'm trapped with the nerd and all this blasted homework?! It's utterly unfair! At least with my new assigned homework, I managed to get sectioned off. After all, Father can't trap, let alone personally watch me at all hours of the day. He has too much work for that.

Besides, that's what the secret guard is for I suppose. Still working on getting rid of that. Not like I go anywhere when I'm grounded.

The heavens are cruel as they are unjust.

But Lukas, looking like a miserable drowned cat, brings my attention not only back to the unfair existence of my sister but the mystery behind his very sorry appearance. Just what happened to him?

"Are you...covered in milk?" I ask, sniffing the boy as he drips all over the window and floor when crawling in.

"Milkygoats!" he screams.

"Um...ok? What does that have to do with my sister? Did Grampa and Gable bring her back?"

"Milkygoats!!!" he repeats, waving his sad little fists. I flinch as droplets shake off of him. A wet cat with his hackles raised.

"....Yeah, I'm still lost. Abbey, get out from under there and bring some towels...you know what, change that to a washbasin. He'll fit."

Off my little maid scampers to the shallow pot by the fire. Making soap and lotions is messy work, even the finishing cutting, and packaging. That's why hot towels are worth the trouble to keep around here when we're working.

It's fine if I do my homework while in the soap room, yes? Multi-tasking! Let's test out these bottle designs. Oil versus lotions. Ceramic jars, glass, and resin. What product stores and works best with what available material? It's looking a little less Lush soap store and slowly more apothecary in these storage rooms of late. I've lost count of how many testers we have but it's fine if Abbey has it written down somewhere.

I've been trying to make wedding favor- err I mean packaging research on my items when Lukas burst in here so distressed. What surprised me most is how he's at a loss for words. Milky goats being the most repeated horror of the moment.

The brat takes no shame in flinging off his milk-soaked clothes. An absolute wild child. Yes, that means getting milky butt naked and cleaned off by the fire.

“Abbey, I demand a thorough cleaning. Milk smells awfully sour when it dries. Clean him. No no no not that soap, citrus won't go well with all that milk.”

Like a plucked white radish, Lukas floats about, blowing bubbles frustratedly underwater. If I didn't know that monster so well, I would worry he was trying to drown himself in there and not just screaming.

"Milky goats!" he screams.

"What about milky goats?" I tap, finishing up this particular set of homework to put away. Lest Lukas finishes his impromptu bath and comes splashing out like a wet dog.

"Give me back Amar!" he announces, pointing a wet hand and finger at me from the edge of the little tub. Something more used to mixing soap than washing filthy little boys. Two in one!

"What?" goes my automatic response.

I am confused.

"Take the stinky baby back and give me Amar! Stop stealing him!"

"One....I didn't take Amar. Two. Just what?"

"She bites and smells and cries like a chicken and I'm tired of milking new goats or chores or punishments! How was I supposed to know you're not supposed to leave stupid babies on the udders or let them go?!! She hung on fine?! Trade me back Amar! Wait no, you stole him! Stop getting Abbey and Georgie to steal him from me! "

Very confused indeed. I turn to Abbey, who gives me an equally lost look and on my command takes a giant wooden ladle to spin and stir the Lukas soup.

"One. Once again, I did not kidnap anyone."

"Liar liar pants on sticky fire!"

"Am not. I don't even know where Amar is? Now let me finish."

Last I saw him was days ago, playing hide and seek with the secret guards. Something my father has assured me would stay on any troublemaking kiddy in range. Unfortunately, that includes me. Great.

Well, at least I don't have to worry about the other brat going around unsupervised. Amar doesn't seem like he's as bad as Lukas but when he gets into trouble, it's a toxic house fire, literally.

I heard he was back at the troops? Concerning, but again, something my father pleasantly assured me he had handled. Now that's even more suspicious. Too suspicious when it had the nerd smiling. Despite my overall lack of a reaction, I do know how my father feels about these brats but....well that's an issue for another day.

"One, I did not kidnap any brat! If my staff are....um, well that's still not me."

"You're the brat!"

"Shush and get clean. Abbey, mix him again. Anyways, two. What have you done to my sister?"

"Nothing! She's the one who chewed on my boot, and my icky homework, Cap's chest udder even though humans don't make milk like goats but she doesn't know that because she's a drooly baby, and Gable's hair."

"She did what?! Unforgivable!" I slam at the table. The effects are not as impressive as I would like given I am not very large nor strong.

Not Gable's hair! His beautiful lush hair! What sin. Okay seriously though, my little sister seems to have been getting this bad habit that many babies and toddlers have. The "I shall stick everything in my mouth" habit.

It wasn't always so bad. Sometimes, she gnaws on a roll of bread for too long or sucks her thumb. Sometimes, I would wake up in our shared bed to find her sucking on MY thumb. Or toe. It's a surprise every morning. Gross baby drool and all.

Now that is actually in my range of expectations. I know, the bar is low, but so are young kids in general. Children are crazy.

Case example, the mochi in the tub.

"Right! Milk doesn't come out but it keeps biting and I wanna chew on Cap! How come she can lick and chew on Cap but I can't? Not fair, not fair, not fair!"

"....you want to what?"

This is a lot to take in. Let's breathe, and calmly count it off. One, my sister has been demoted to an 'it' in the eyes of Lukas? Two, my grampa is very popular with children for some very wrong reasons? Last I checked, Grampa was made of human flesh and not actually edible.

I am stopping my brain from connecting point three. It involves too many nipples and my drooly still very dumb baby sister. Thus, I am halting my brain right there. If the issue has already been solved, which it must be if Lukas is here and not in Gable enforced punishment, then it's good enough. I have enough to be stressed out over. I don't need the mental image of Lilyanne in the mortal danger that is kiddy shenanigans.

"So...did she....spill a...bucket of milk on you? Something bigger?" I ask.

"Milky goats!!!!" is all I get back from Lukas.

"Alrighty then. Abbey, spin cycle him."

"Ri-right away my young miss." my little maid salutes and gets to work.

It's taken a while where I can just get my young maid to learn my orders to the extent that she has. Before she would get overly flustered or even cry at the miscommunication, or her perceived ignorance.

No no, it's not something people learn normally. The terms I use are sometimes....a little out of this world.

But luckily Abigail is a gullible little foo- er I mean a very..... nope, never mind, she's just easy. Too easy.

Tell her something and now she just goes along with it. That's her wonderful training potential. I admit I'm a little unnerved how worshipful she seems to me, a toddler of all things, but this is the exact sort of easy servant the original Rosalia Ventrella would have preferred.

Which is odd given that I don't recall having such a servant. I can't even vaguely recall an employee resembling the nervous but devoted Abigail at all. Well, the employment numbers of my household were quite large, no matter which location. It's a given I don't recognize the majority of my servants, especially the downstairs staff.

I did have an oddly reverent older maid, later on, a surprisingly seductive sort of ditsy beauty, but… I committed a great wrong toward that girl.

It would be far easier to not think about it.

I am a villainess. I have a history. That much is unavoidable. There are things I can change from this point now on and things I can't. I'm not vowing to be a better person or anything, it just would be nice if things were different. If some things could be avoided.

It's not out of the goodness of my own heart, haha ah what a concept. It's just that, that sort of maid reminds me of one of my senior co-workers.

What a helpless woman, despite being my senior in the field. I quickly rose to and past her position in a few short years of working. She too was a rather unconsciously seductive beauty, aka the creep magnet. An honest to god stereotypical blond most days. I can't recall how many times I had to tear and chase a too-handsy creep away from my senior, clients or not.

A real 180 change from how Rosalia treated that maid.

It couldn't be helped is a very bad sort of excuse, but what else did we have? How many choices did that girl really have?

"Now change the water and rinse cycle that kid once more," I command towards my little maid.

"Ye-yes my young miss!"

I watch as Abigail spins and turns, stirring the Lukas soup. She's a frumpy thing, barely a teenager, and still very much rooted in childhood. Unruly hair, braided and pinned in knots that could fit under a hair covering when making soap and pickles. Freckled pink face, underneath that apron dress, shoulders of even more freckles, showing a past of exposed sun and work. She's not exactly skinny, but her body is that of a working child. Strong in the arms and thighs, completely flat in where a woman should be growing at her age.

"Don't forget his feet. I don't trust his feet. Check and clean between those toes."

"Ye-yes!"

"Hey!!! Why does everyone say that?!" Lukas complains in the bath.

"Because you've lost more socks than you could possibly own. Now wash up if you're to stay in this building." I snap.

"Mmmmpfsg."

Lukas' head goes down in the water as a wriggling white kiddy foot pops up. It splashes as Abbey battles to get it clean. Testing out the soaps on the counter.

When wet and clean, I can see clearly how Abbey's face is a plain one compared to all the beauties that surround me. Not like that unfortunate maid or my devastating sexy secretary stereotype of a senior.

This is fine. Having such a personal maid is fine. It's safer this way.

Much safer.

Right?

"My lady. This humble servant is blessed. Far too blessed." the pretty servant bows.

"That's enough. Stand straight and let me have a look at you. Straight I say! "

A doll.

Still very much a child, a doll slowly circles the figure standing in the middle of the dressing space. Three sets of vanity mirrors stand to show various angles. Her curls were pinned and ribboned sweetly, in contrast to the sourish pout and frown ever present on her face.

She was a child, even as her legs grew longer and her stomach ached horribly with that time of the month. It was just a new and horribly unpleasant price to come with growing up.

She had to grow up.

The common maid got up slowly, almost so that it would be mistaken as lady-like grace. Dark dirty blonde hair, oiled, plaited, and pinned to show off her best assets. A supple neck and full blossom, a hint of natural freckles on that fair skin, and a graceful mole towards the back. A richly dyed splendid yellow underdress, frills and all, below a cornflower blue corset tie dress. It was technically modest, if not for the great push, and the swell of a woman's soft breasts. Ribbons of the same blue accented with violent bustles and trimmings. An embroidered belt fastened in decorative golden bronze tied and trailed off at the ends.

Even in new clothes, she still looked like a maid, though obviously one of a very wealthy lady.

So long as she kept silent, kept careful, she was beautiful enough to contest with any noble's daughter. No better, for she was not a pampered and ignorant little girl, innocent in the ways of men and women. If it weren't for her employment, her beauty, she would have been a plain 'old maid'. A couple years past the age of an ideal marriage, but it wasn't too late.

It was good that she was a reasonably fast learner.

"Congratulations. You have more than caught the eyes of Lord Canale. You won't be too mistreated, for his wife has gone and gotten herself locked up in senility. I hear he doesn't have the hobby of sadism, another plus." her sharp words contrasted greatly with her sweet youth.

"The Lord Canale is gentle with all his mistresses. It is my honor to be inducted under such a person. To be married at my age, and so above my station, tis my blessing." the maid answered.

"Stand straight. I will not have you bowing so much once you're in that household." she circled.

"Yes, my lady. Forgive me, my lady, it is only with you that I bend my head and knee. "

"Hmmmf, from now on, show that only to your husband. You are not to be so easily stepped over by any mistress. It would have been easier, to pair and match a true cortigiana. But a more 'wholesome' girl I've raised out of my own hands, well, there's something satisfying about that in the eyes of many, including that Canale. Don't you agree?" she raised the maid's chin, inspecting.

"Yes, my lady."

"You're a product of my household, my name. Your education, your manners, even your... experience. All the riches and favors you receive are due to my favoring hand. Your hard work, your value, was all supported by me."

"Worry not my young lady. My master, my rod, my whip shall graciously lie in your fair hands, forever yours. This servant is unworthy, with my humble beauty I shall weave your hands under this Lord husband you have granted upon me." Even as little hands prod, the maid remains low, willing.

There is no rod, no whip. Just a young child's doll-like hands.

They pull at ties and ribbons, dropping layers of richly dyed cloth. Revealing a full-grown woman's bare skin, curves, and full sweet flesh, in a manner that would have most any man panting.

The child lays her hand on the naked bosom, pushing against the soft firmness of the heated flesh. Right above the wildly beating heart.

"There is no need to lie this far. The correspondence shall be made to you in many forms, discreetly. If there are any complaints, anything to make your job easier, simply communicate them to one of the agents when they make themselves known to you. Do not hesitate, not for your comfort but for efficiency. It is my time and investments that you risk." her hands were too small to harm anyone. Not on their own.

"Tis no lie. You have all my yeses, my young lady." the older maid trembled.

"You shall please your new husband in all ways, please and grasp his old heart and feeble mind."

"Yes, my lady."

"Steer those routes, those bridges to our tides. Does my dearest paternal family truly think they have such a stronghold? Oh ho ho ho they must be fumbling and pointing fingers left and right at this point. Steer them right and when that old man finally keels over, you shall be rewarded ever so handsomely. More so than you could have ever dreamed."

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Worn hands, softened with rose water and essence, faint with scars, clasps that little one even closer into her revealed bosom. It was impudent, for a servant to do so, but the little miss wavered so.

"My lady, it is already more than I have ever dreamed. It has been so since fate deemed me fit to serve under your grace."

The little girl pouted, one cheek filling with hot air as she regarded the half-naked creature bowed low before her.

So this was an adult woman's beauty. Underneath all the finery and gowns. This is what made so many men so out of their minds stupid.

"Good. Acceptable education. It would have the old Canale reeling. Remember to steer him well, gather more pets if you wish. A little jealousy plays well in keeping the hearts of men." she snorted.

"My lady?" the maid sensed with unease, a sort of sadness her young lady refused to make known. For even the highest of born nobles had their burdens, their unshed tears.

She pushed into those breasts, then pulled the camicia and tied the dress back up. Ever so lovely, like a present rewrapped. Tied them high and tight, as if that could somehow hide them. Make them as unknown as they were unseen.

"One day too....I will grow into this. As sure as I bleed....I'll grow. Then...one day too, I'll be sold like this." sighed the still child, unbeknownst to herself how she spoke those words out loud.

"My young miss. That's not true!" broke the maid, bowing further,

"You are the noble daughter of the Ventrellas. The Rosalia Ventrella. The only legitimate future queen candidate to the Northern Federation. Your grace shall be married off in glory and splendor, only to live in higher shining splendor-"

"That's enough." motioned the girl with a hand to the maid's mouth. "Save it for the men you'll be using. You'll need it. You are dismissed, for now. Take the time to prepare and tie off any loose ends. Your dowry payment shall not be lacking, even for a concubine. There's a show to put on after all."

"....Yes, my lady."

The maid crawls, tying up any loose parts of her splendid dress and ribbons. As she dashes out the parlor, she bows low to the attending butler standing silently by the doors.

"S-sir." the maid bows, trembling slightly. From what, the world could not know.

"Congratulations on your match." he nods solemnly. Neither cheerful like most of the world nor judgemental like the very same flipside.

If the maid bites her lips, tears threatening to fall, then it was politely not mentioned. It was hard to tell what was going through the beauty's mind. What must be going through any maiden's mind and heart when she was to be tied to the house and bed of a lecherous lord old enough to be her grandfather.

Her shoes clattered against the hall as Alfonso closed the doors.

"My mother wouldn't approve, would she?" stepped down the little doll.

She was about to pour her own tea but that didn't happen.

A steaming cup of the herbal beverage is delicately handed directly on a slightly too large saucer. Imported. All the best things were imported. From the leaves to the teacup, the best of the best in lands afar.

"Have a rest my young miss. It has been a long day, this blend is good for both children and women. Sent by your lord grandfather from the great plains of the Southlands beyond the seas."

"Hmmf, that foolish grampa. What good are these gift baskets to me now? I can supply myself."

"It is important to hydrate and eat properly my young miss. No matter what age." prepared the butler, pulling silver trays and plates.

Specially polished, to test and detect for any poison. The material gleaned.

It was a common scene out of any tale, the butler serving as a pretty young, very young, lady partook in her tea and toasts.

"You didn't answer me from before Alfonso." says the girl, holding herself from chugging down her second cup.

It was bad manners, no matter how fatigued or thirsty she felt.

Even if you placed her in rags, you couldn't beat the manners and lessons ingrained in her every little finger. But it wasn't enough, just this much was far from enough.

"My dear mother wouldn't approve of this would she? What I've done. What I'm becoming." she stared down into the cup.

Tea, a pretty liquid pink, reflected a small blurred vision of herself back.

It was anything but rose-colored. A little girl already is known for her viciousness, for her weak but sharp little claws. There was only so much she could do without her sister's magic, without her reputation.

"I can't say, my young miss. I believe she would understand....your father would. Approve and understand."

"Irrelevant. Father...was ...well himself." she gripped at the cup, distorting her pink-tinged reflection further.

"’ Was' my lady, and I served him in that time. I serve him to now."

"You still pray they're alive? Odd for you to be so senselessly hopeful Alfonso. But I suppose it's not a bad outward image to hold on to. It keeps Lilyanne going. How is my sister doing? What are the reports."

"I know so. The young lady Lilyanne is recuperating well after this winter chill, her bouts less frequent. Today, she was well enough to make merry with the maids on the news of...the match. Her allowance has been overspent by a quarter, as she used up quite the sugar and paints."

"Why am I not surprised? I suppose she finds the whole thing oh so terribly romantic."

"As many of the maids do, my young miss. A great rise in station, for it is only we who know her to be a common maid. From a mere maid to a Lord's personal cortigiana. It is, admittedly, the dream of many a young and old womenfolk."

"They dream to bed men older than their great grandfathers? Oh say no more Alfonso, I joke. Of course, I still know how to joke. Well, who am I to deny them their fantasy? They shall have their wedding, we shall have ourselves a merry show, and quietly reap the profits behind the curtains. My, it sounds like a brothel already."

"Unsound on the latter part, my young miss. It will be...a fine...and very appropriately stationed wedding. Lord Canale's fifth, and hopefully last. How much longer can he last?"

"I hear he takes supplements to keep up with his younger playthings. So take great care then, to help provide such...supplements. To the new blushing bride."

"Of course. Your toasts, my lady." the old gray man serves, reminding the little lady to eat.

She was almost as bad as her father when it came to working.

Something, he took great care to curb. Like her father, the finest of foods tried and true, didn't seem to interest the little lady as much as some oddly common fare seemed to.

"Hmmph. Fine. Green grapes again? I don't suppose that was included in Grampa's package. Ah but the pate is delicious today." the little lady munches on crostinis, looking back to her true age.

If you squint, you could almost imagine her to be her sister, a real child with no such worries or burdens. One that doesn't go granting their maids as concubines to old men in political plots. One who could never comprehend such things, let alone raise and order it herself.

"Alfonso, how is pate typically made?" she licks at her serving knife, playfully dressing a piece with a bit more honey and pickled onion. Ah, the perfect piece.

"Foie gras, my lady, is typically made with the fattened liver of carefully bred and raised poultry. The finest feed of dried figs, and honeyed wine, greatly enlarge the organ. Smaller fouls are fed twice a day while large ones thrice. They're slaughtered traditionally around the 100th day. For the commoners, mere farm chicken or hunted beast livers are mashed and grounded in their own fats to make a paste." he explained patiently.

Far more patiently when they both knew that was mundane information the little girl already knew.

"Pate is already tasty as is, it's so easy even a spoiled useless child like I can make it." small teeth bite down, crunching, and the child spreads another piece.

Occasionally, she pops a grape into her mouth, a palette cleanser of sweet and sour dripping juice.

"Lord Canale is quite fond of this dish, no? Even more so than a good plate of actual foie gras. It has a much stronger gamier taste, almost unpleasantly so, greatly not as rich, but there's something about it. Other nobles may scoff at the supposed inadequacy but in his old age, a dulled man should be free to like what he likes. No?"

"It appears so, as the reports say, my young miss."

"But a common pate can be found anywhere. The one I've made, this girl I've force-fed like a foul to slaughter. Honey, wine, the things to make her liver swell. Will she make a fine enough dish? Is she to his tastes? She certainly looks good enough to eat? That's what they say, yes? Lord Canale likes them a bit stupid, well, sweetly simple as they say. A bit like my sister. "

"Only time will tell, my young lady. I assure you, she's been learned in court etiquette as she has in the highest brothels of the capital. Many offers have been made as they believe her above her station. Discreetly of course. "

"I pray then, not a Bicchieri affiliated brothel. I would hate them to try to claim her as one of their own when her status rises. If there's anything you can expect from a legitimate Bicchieri, it's either horribly costly or to claim fame and credit where it's undue."

"Never my young lady, our lines shall never touch. I swear on your Lord Father's arms."

"Acceptable. See to it, that the secret guards keep her well and safe even past the threshold. She is to be allocated at least two personal guards and four maids as her 'dowry'. "

"Yes, young miss Rosalia."

"And for my sister...continue the surveillance. There's nothing...wrong per se about her merrymaking. She's just a child. Yet something about it...still concerns me. Keep the secret guards' eyes on her and continue my reports. "

"Yes, young miss Rosalia. We shall continue to keep our eyes...on the child. "

"Alfonso?"

"Yes, my young miss."

"Would Father really not be surprised to see me like this? Could my parents really bear with the truth of what I'm doing? What I will continue to do worse?"

"I know so, my young miss."

"Alfonso?"

"You called my young miss?"

"Huh?"

I blink.

The fire crackles, lighting up the little stone room. A far cry from the luxurious parlor that it felt like I was just sitting in. The solid but cheap table in front of me is covered in homework and soap stains, not tea and crostinis.

There's a little maid by that fire, scrubbing a naked brat. She is not so beautiful, I did not pick her for her beauty. I did not do that yet.

I don't know if I still won't.

Alfonso leans down, a smile ever unreadable underneath his gray mustache. Looking the same as ever, even nearly a decade younger.

"Young miss Rosalia?" he repeats again, smoothly feeling at my forehead and prodding at my tired eyes.

"Tea then. Tis time for a break of tea. Today shall be fennel, honey, and lemon. Fresh in season and to refreshen your mind and body."

"....I see...I must be tired."

"Yes. That is surely it. You're used to playing and your crafts, the shift in your lessons must be a burden. Have a rest, my young miss. My my my is it time for your afternoon nap?"

"I don't need naps every day Alfonso, I'm not a baby."

"Of course, no. Young miss Lilyanne is a baby, but you, who is exactly the same age, do not need all her naps."

I squish my face against the table as Alfonso cleans, stacking up my papers and books back into neat organizable stacks. Ah yes, getting infantilized, the great perk of being reborn. How much sleep does a 3-year-old need? 10 hours? 12?

Nothing makes you feel quite like a child complaining about nap time.

"I'd rather have tea and snacks right now." my voice comes out muffled from the table. "I want to eat pate' soon. On toasties."

"Yes, my lady. I'm afraid we can only make a common poultry liver mousse on such short notice. But bear in mind our hardworking little young miss, we shall have the finest live geese and beasts delivered to be made into a delicious foie gras." the old man elegantly answers back, clearing the table and kick spinning an adapted butter churner to wash the human laundry.

"Common mousse is fine," I mumble into the table.

My eyes are hot. Hot and irritated. Maybe I really am too tired. Curse this small body of mine.

Before I can even do anything about it, my chair is pulled back with my butt and back suddenly resting on a cushion. A warm moist towel instantly covered my eyes.

"Really now. For a child to require such service at such a terribly small age. I shall advise your Lord Father with the utmost respect to adjusting the assignment load on our young miss. If Lady Maria were to see, she would greatly disapprove."

"Mother disapproves of a lot of things." I sigh softly into the towel.

Ahhhh that feels good, like a spa treatment. Another cushion makes its way to my back shoulders while my hands are washed in warm water with a hint of a citrus floral scent. It's time for snacks.

Time for snacks and not unpleasant thoughts. There's always time for that later. If Alfonso says it's time for tea then that's that. For now, let's just lean back and relax.

"Why is Lukas being made into soup?"

"eEEEP!"

"AHA! I KNEW YOU STOLE HIM!"

Nevermind.

I groggily pull off the towel to see another brat, munching away at half a pomegranate, crouched at my window. Does no one ever use the door?

"I didn't steal anyone!" I rebuke, for Lukas seems to have the strangest impression. But it's Lukas, enough said.

"Amar! Amar, it's been really really bad and scary and I take back everything nice ever about that stinky baby. Rosa can have her back and I'll take you ok?!"

"Lukas you dweeb, you can't just take people? And just what did Lilyanne do to you?"

"Milkygoats!!!!!"

"Um, is that why Lukas is naked? Oh hi Abbey, you look wet. Want half this pomegranate? This one is okay to eat."

"Oh, u-um. That's-um, okay. Th-thank you."

"Amar! Did you know Rosa doesn't have all her parts?! She is missing parts! And I think all girls are because the weird baby sister doesn't have any either when she jumped in the goatmilk vat and almost got turned to cheese and then she was upside down and-"

Suddenly the room is a mess.

I fling a wet towel at the tub, angling it to smack at the horrifying source of chatter, resulting in a satisfying slapping sound. Ah, it's almost therapeutic, especially when paired with Lukas' yelp. It's fine, he won't drown in a tub that shallow.

"Oh hi, Rosa. Why are your eyes all red? Were you crying again? No? Almost crying? Your whole face gets puffy when you do that." chatters a new source of headaches.

How wonderful, Alfonso hands me another towel to fling and smack at brat number two.

Oh ooops, I think he meant it was for my tired eyes and not attacking. My mistake.

However, Amar simply catches the moist towel to somewhat help Abbey pull the now squeaky clean Lukas out from the tub. It's helpful in that Amar provides chatter and distraction enough for Lukas not to splash around so much, allowing my poor now drenched maid to get the boy out and dried off.

Ah, he's really like a freshly boiled egg. From top to bottom, especially the bottom. So soft and shiny. Was it the soap? Or the goat milk? Yes, goat milk does have great effects on beauty.

"Abbey, write down a note to research 'milkygoats' for skincare. Perhaps a luxury 'milk bath' service?"

"Ye-yes! Right away young miss Rosalia!"

"Er, after you finish drying off of course. Maybe getting some clean clothes on Lukas. Please put that on the first priority." I close my eyes again, another warm towel served over my head and I smell a child-appropriate tea being prepared. Lots of lemon and honey, yes.

"Milkygoats!!! Amar Amar Amar it was so bad and the stinky baby bites! How many times did she try to eat you?! Because I'm even more delicious than you because I'm full of yummier fats and why are you so far away now?!"

"I don't know?"

"We're going hunting together this year too right? Right?! I wanna beat you again and then we can roast the meats and not burn them this time and it's going to be yummy and you can keep the furs this time because I don't need them anymore because my bed is a lot better and it's so soft and oh no! Bed! I didn't know the bunk bed at the troops was bad till Gable showed me but we always-"

"It's okay. I'm fine. You should put on pants because adults don't like talking to people when they're naked."

"Oooooh okay! That's why is everyone giving me funny looks huh?"

"Hmm, I guess so? You smell a bit sour. Were you almost made into goat cheese and punished lots? Because Rosa's sister came to play at your place? Even though it wasn't your fault? Oh, I know, she chewed on some important stuff, right? Homework? "

"Hic, yeeeeaaaah!!!!"

Still naked, Lukas jumps out of Abbey's attempt at towel drying to clutch at Amar, who catches him easily despite his smaller size. The mochi squishier boy sobbing in the untold pains that must be my little sister eating his homework. While Amar comforts the boy, somehow understanding Lukas speak, Abbey puts on some of the kiddy tester clothes I had pulled out earlier.

Yeah, let's get that butt covered up.

Seriously?

I'm very worried about Lilyanne's current development. Extremely worried. This was not a concern in the last lifetime?

"Your refreshment young miss Rosalia."

Alfonso slides a prepared tray in front of me, a kiddy durable teacup and all. Okay, it's more like a mug but that's understandable. You just don't serve good cutlery and drinkware to small children with their clumsy butterfingers. I feel a sweat drop form as I spot the pale green grapes on my tray.

Why does everyone think I like these things, gosh darn it.

"Do you know why Grampa took my sister over in the first place?" I ask, sipping at the tea. Ack sour... but then sweet. Yep, that wakes me right up.

"She's supposed to smell yummy! But it's just stinky!" shouts out the boy, arms held up high as Abbey urges him to help dress.

"...."

I turn to Amar, hoping he can do that magical Lukas translation thing again. But all Amar does is blink in confusion before accepting a mug of tea, dropped down my family's far too capable butler.

"Oh thank you."

"Tis good for children and digestion."

"Is it yummy?! Do I get one too, ack hot!"

Lukas does the very wise thing of sticking his nose in Amar's full mug, and maybe burning the tip of it. He whines and fans at it, gesturing to a giggling Amar to blow on it for him.

"Hold still?"

By god he actually does it, grasping on Lukas’ clean pink cheeks to blow down his face. Children have no sense of shame. Ah, to be young, cute, and innocent again. Oh hohoho, I sip at my tea like the aged old lady I must be inside my soul.

"Still hot!" complains Lukas, eyes scrunched up.

"You can use ice now, you know? Make a block and cold smoosh?"

"Oh yeeeeeah! You're right!"

The greatness that is children, everyone. Further evidence that they should not be without supervision, especially Lukas. The boy wills a cold press into existence to cool down his minor burn, then turns straight to the food.

Hey, no, bad Lukas. Down. My food.

"You have lots. Pay up for my eaten homework." Lukas pouts, crawling up the table to eat at my snacks.

He takes particularly well to the artichoke dip, though that could be due to the great amount of fats and cheese mixed up in there. I've been working my kitchens hard to get mayonnaise down right. It's slow tedious labor but oh so delicious. Get to mixing everyone!

"This one is yummy!" he talks with his mouth full.

"Of course it is, it's my recipe. Now stop eating just that. "

"Boooo! Amar! Amar come here and try the green thingy dip!"

But the named other child merely shakes his head, hands still holding on to the tea mug. His foot inching towards the door.

"I have some errands I have to do." he answers softly.

"Errands?" I ask, already giving up on the fate of sharing my food.

"Awwww, you can do them later. Try the dippy!" exclaims Lukas.

"It's okay. I ate too much already."

Lukas drops whatever he was just chewing.

"You're not hungry?" the boy's tone gone flat and almost silent for Lukas' standard. That throws me off, as does the sensitive topic of fattening up Amar.

"Mmmm don't worry. I just ate some bad pomegranates. I got too excited about them?"

"....."

Lukas stares straight down, eyes like clear ice and oddly still. For a moment I could call tense, Amar tilts and smiles innocently, a questioning look to his smile. All before Lukas finally goes back to normal.

"Oh, fruit! Ok! Geez, you keep liking weird ones that go bad easy so you get sick and stuff because they're all gross. You should eat more meat because that's usually fresh or jerky and that doesn't get gross. Right, Rosa? Meat is good! Okay, we'll hunt something good and picky fruits and stuff for you later." Lukas decides, back on eating my food.

"Hmmm, okay? If we can." agrees Amar, still looking cute for someone who ate too many pomegranates.

"Where did you get those? The kitchens are out already and there's no more in the markets?" I ask, already awake and alert.

It was a passing curiosity that I inquired about the current fruit market the other day. While it's true that pomegranates tend to keep well in their shells, it's just past the end of the season for them. Without some special price and seller, even my own kitchens can't order more.

"That's what the errand is about? I gotta go if I want to fix it?"

"Did someone trade you some bad fruit?" I make to stop him. I see those little feet already hopping, ready to get out of here.

"Hmm, something like that? But it's not too bad or anything, I ate too much, and now my tummy hurts."

It's at this point Alfonso interrupts. Both by speaking up and pulling Lukas off the table and onto an actual high chair.

"Drink more of the tea then. This blend is safe for all children and will be good for your pains." smiles my butler, pulling up another too tall chair and setting the snack table with even more substantial goods. Something that makes Lukas sparkle when meat shows up on the table.

"Oh. Okay?" Amar looks down to his cup, downing the cooled contents.

Like a dumb child, he allows Alfonso to lift and carry him over, plopping him on the chair to destroy more of my good snack table. His tea mug was instantly refilled.

"Something easy on the stomach, for the tired children. Abigail, the stews."

"Ye-yes! Right away sir!"

At the table, Lukas keeps trying to stuff an artichoke scoop of dip at Amar, who holds his nose and inches away at the stinkier dish. The smaller boy honestly now looks a little pale and sick.

"Your stomach really hurts?" I ask again, "Do you feel like throwing up?"

"A little?" nods the boy, " But it's fine. This much is fine."

Beaten, Lukas can only munch on it himself as a soft and light stew is served. Probably made of lentils again and…

...Hey wait, that's not one of my recipes? Is that butter or...I don't know? Huh, why does it get lemon?

Oh, oh it's good? Who is responsible for this?

Hey hey, Amar, don't look away so fast, now I know it was you. Hey, do you really get 'stolen' by my staff that much?

Snack time has turned into a full meal. Homework had been tidied away. There is too much to be done still but let's not think about it right now.

It's time for tea.