Lilyanne's and my birthday is coming up and the whole household is under a lot of prep work. It's going to be another quiet year since we're only turning 3, no need for a large public celebration. Still, it's our birthday and there is work to be done!

Including me.... homework is a pain. Why has father suddenly piled up all this upon me? Is it to keep me busy? Trust my parents to assume I would cause trouble and try to keep me quiet.

Or is it because I'm not attending my lessons properly? They really are a waste of my time given that I already know everything, it's far more useful to give the 101 classes to my staff.

Father doesn't disapprove of the idea and is paying the tutors accordingly with a contract correction. Once in a while the staff members, especially my kitchens, take field trips to the troops if there's an interesting event or lecture going on. How do they know? The bulletin board is posted on the garrison grounds? Ah but talk does go around quickly in the kitchens and laundry.

We're even bringing in another fresh-face, one of the tutor's relatives, to full-time improve the efficiency of classes around the Ventrella household. What great employee benefits we have here.

However, it is clear that the tutors and work assigned to me are far below my current level. Except for penmanship, I'm still practicing on the slates. Curse these tiny little hands! I know how to write okay, it's just hard!

Homework is the bane of young people and students all around the world in any world.

Father has personally taken it upon himself then, to revise my lesson plans. Father has assigned Rosalia so much homework. Rosalia is not free. Rosalia is not pleased.

"Why in the good heavens are you speaking that?" tapped Georgie impatiently, smacking my forehead with a rolled up parchment.

Rude! I'm not a fly!

Honestly the lack of respect that goes on here! Especially from Georgie! How dare you, you should be more like-

"Eeep Miss. Rosalia!!! Let me get you a cold compress, a salve! George how could you do that to young misss!!! Eep the salve!" trips another clumsy servant girl.

"..." I have no words.

Nevermind....Georgie you're fine the way you are. Please don't turn into Abigail. She has her heart in the right place but her hands and feet all over. Please calm down Abbey, and please don't hurt yourself in any more accidents.

"I'm fine, Abigail please get off the floor." I feel concerned for her.

"But your delicate skin Miss- ack it's slippery!!!"

"Really, it's fine! Rosalia's delicate stubborn forehead only gets smacked with the lightest most finest of expensive parchment paper. Abbey, get off the floor?" Georgie butts in.

"Eeep!" But it is too late, trip and slip Abbey still goes.

Luckily any mess she made is not on the main table, where my 'homework' lies, but around the once carefully stacked jars of skincare.

Again, I do not have an office and the kitchen is always too busy. So the soap work shed shall do! Understandably, the kitchen is not only the stomach but the heart of any household. I love my kitchens, but I cannot always stay in the kitchens.

We need more kitchens more something.

I could do my work in the library but oddly I do find it difficult to work in complete silence. It's....awkward, yeah let's go with that. That's not to say I like loud commotion either? When I had to study or do a mass load of work I would often go to cafes or those sorts of places. Even the university or public libraries always had some sort of background noise.

It's not that I can't work alone or in silence, you can always turn on the T.V. or some music...I just concentrate better in public. Always have. That's why I would prefer to do my old homework at work in the bar or something.

There are people to bother you yeah but also to make the time go by faster. If you had a question or needed help, then at least the possibility was there.

Which is why I roped Georgie boy here in the present!

"Why me....." Georgie bemoans at the table.

"I know how well you can actually budget. Get to it." I pat the wood and work.

"Eep young miss is there anything I can do to be of any more service to you?" Abbey offers.

"Oh, no. Abbey, you're doing more than enough by sorting and organizing for us."

"I understand Miss Rosalia! I will work even harder in my lessons to be worthy of use!"

"Err....no...but sure! Keep at it Abbey."

There's not much I can scam others into helping me with the historical reports and reading I apparently have to do. I have a bit of advantage using the previous good's memories but my god is this tedious. Really now, who cares about the family line of yada yada family and who their third uncle married? Ah, noble politics, just a bad game of genealogy.

From a little more reading, I do note that the amount of family inbreeding is concerning. It's still very much legal to marry your cousin during this era. Half siblings are sort of a gray area.

Ew no. No this should not even be an issue but according to these 'noble' family trees it still very much is. Bloodlines smudlines, this is some gross genetic disaster going on. If the noble class only marries within their social circles, those circles will just grow smaller and smaller until everyone is related to one another. Of course, there are a few 'bastard' offspring who rise up to continue the line in branches.

On the bright side, it's gotten better the last few decades, probably due to the amount of new wealth and families rising up, a good number of them led from my own grampa's old comrades.

Well, that explains how some nobles were blessed with very....prominent chins ...or delicate sensibilities. Yeah, incest is not wincest.

That's enough gross history review for today. I'm sure I can recite this well enough to my father based on old memories. On to math!

After a few minutes though, Georgie and I are beginning to have our brains overheat.

"This is a joke, right? Why is he making you calculate parts of the account books? I get your family line is known for being crazy strict and all smart and stuff but this is too much." he almost cries.

"Crazy. I think we're just crazy." I have to agree.

"I meant your Lord father, crazy is the Ventrella tagline. Oh, heavens they should write that down in the genealogy books, The Ventrellas- founded by Ronald Ventrella. Family virtue- insanity."

"Why isn't that already a thing? Ahhhh my head, this is so annoying." I near pull my hair.

Why is father giving me actual real accounts? Actual logistics disguised at math homework? This is horrible!

How much palm oil is imported to make a standard batch of soap? What is the price per ounce of almonds in winter versus summer? What is the price of almond oil accounting for labor and milling? Calculate the cost difference if new water mills are implemented versus traditional oxen-led mill vs small batches of human hand mill. How much does it cost to purchase daily household egg use versus raising our own chickens? WTF?

Normally kids my age would be learning their numbers right? Lilyanne can count to 7 at most!

I understand, loud and clear that these are all very important details in the logistics that is my daily lifestyle. I see....a lot of soap and cooking ingredient related questions. Message heard loud and clear Father.

Why don't you give mother these questions?! Father of all people should know what her outrageous closet costs! Oh no she must be spending so much more for our birthday torture dresses right at this very moment!

This is probably why I'm being kept distracted with all this...homework.

I say math but there's a lot of empty space for me to report I'm sure. But isn't this overtop to expect from a toddler? Seriously what is with these questions?!

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

If it costs 13 silvers to clothe a standard foot soldier, and the going rate of a tanner is 65 half coppers per suit, separate the cost of the material and the additional tailor's labor.

WTF? I mean...I suppose I could figure it out but that depends on the market rate? And this is only one example with double digits, there are far more cases here with mass numbers. Surely father doesn't expect little old me to do all this? It's very irresponsible of him to put these daily Ventrella operations in my hands, even if it's just 'homework'.

"Georgie, how much is the cost difference of nutmeg? Locally versus at the other market?" I ask.

"3 whole silvers per ounce, can you believe it!" his inner housewife is full of complaints.

"Wait, large or small silvers?"

"Large! So total that makes our savings..."

"But the second part of the question asked how does it compare to the capital's pricing too. And this year that's a 1.3% import tax rate." I scribble, trying to get the numbers right.

"Are we using land or sea rates? Because local ship rates can go as high as 3x in a normal winter. Which means a market package of nutmeg could go for as high as multiple golds." he answers well.

"That makes sense since last year, autumn prices for local nutmegs were 73 large silvers for a canister. Of course, they can easily go up to gold after transport. Which means per ounce it would be..." I get lost in the calculation.

Plop!

Rather than Georgie or I, it's Abigail that has fallen over with spiraling swirls in her eyes. I didn't even do anything to her, I swear? She wasn't doing anything, just watching us? Is it really that overwhelming? What father does on the daily is far worse I'm sure. Still, out of everyone here, I'm the one who feels like falling over okay?!

Luckily for me, I have Georgie here and his surprisingly good market math. Large numbers confuse him, as they do anyone, but add in the word 'apples' or 'soap' to the equation and he's got it. Change some choice words to 'sale' and he's even faster.

Is he a teen boy or a housewife?

If Georgie wasn't here I would take far longer to do this, hell maybe I'll pull the Lilyanne card and go crying how I can't do it. But then I won't get my next allowance so easily....

Hey hey Georgie, are you still even considered a jr. chef or has your position been turned into something closer to my personal assistant?

"I get so much more work and get paid just as much!? What do you think!" cries Georgie, looking very close to breaking that slate, maybe over his own head, in frustration.

"Hmm yes but I pay you in benefits so it works out."

"What benefits?!!?!"

I make to pat his supple cheek, smooth and soft as a baby's butt. I would know for I am always getting hit by Lilyanne's butt.

"You are the most beautiful boy in all Ventrella lands now." I flatter cheaply.

"That's not a benefit!!!" he screams, disgruntled employee and all.

"Mirror mirror on the wall, who has the best skin of them all? Is it some foreign princess, perhaps a wealthy lady or mythical forest nymph? No, no it's you, Georgie. You and the daily application of toner and essential skincare!"

"Do you know how much your facials hurt!?" flattering is not going well with him.

"That's because you left the mud mask on for too long. Around 20 minutes is enough" I bring up.

"You put it on me...while I was sleeping!!!!"

"Yes 7 hours was too far long but in return, it had very good results!"

Ah yes, the day Georgie had a semi-permanent mud mask stuck to his face. Hot water did nothing at that point. Even Amar couldn't pull or knife it off, at least not without Georgie screaming bloody murder with each chip and crack. Ah, but the exfoliation effects were splendid, so smooth.

Rather than appreciate all the work I put into him, Georgie is still screaming. Understandably he is only a stressed-out teenager going through a very hormonal time in his life. He's becoming a legal adult soon too, how exciting. Sweet 16~

"It took me 3 days to get it all off!!!!"

"Many many silvers and gold coins went into your skin, Georgie. Most woman would sell their souls to be in your place."

"Then collect their souls and torture them! Your skin crafts is what's getting us all this work in the first place!"

"How about I just raise your pay after your adulthood ceremony?" I stall and offer.

"That was going to happen anyway!!!" he screeches.

Oh teenagers, so moody and know it all. It really can't be helped, they're just so sensitive at this age. From the floor, Abbey weakly wobbles herself back up.

"Err are we still talking about household expenditures?"

"Actually yes, so Georgie, back to the nutmeg problem."

There's another incomprehensible scream from Georgie. RIP me, if I'm going down marketing math hell I'm taking victims with me.

A dark shadow looms by the doorway.

"Pardon Young Miss Rosalia. I do believe it is time for a snack break if the sounds of moaning and wailing are anything to go by."

Abbey and Georgie may be screaming and straightening themselves up like misbehaving students caught by the teacher but I am for one glad to see Alfonso. Yes wonderful idea! I do deserve a treat.

While he does bring a plate of stuffed and plain honey buns and a large piping pot of tea for the teens, my usual drink is not to be seen.

There is only one fireplace in the converted soap storage, and it's in this very room. Alfonso seems to smoothly glide over, increasing the heat with a few scoops of quality charcoal and putting on a pot of milk.

"Today, I do believe that Miss Rosalia would appreciate a freshly made drink. Don't you agree young George?"

"Um well, uh anything for our Rosalia. I guess?" tries George, careful not to give any wrong answers in front of Alfonso.

Really say what you will about grampa or my Father being the Lords of the house but isn't the one with all the real power over our staff our trusty head butler? I wonder where father found him?

"After all this hard diligent work, cranking those numbers and accounts. Yes a fresh hot milk and honey to invigorate those tired eyes, perhaps with one of those new spice mixes to...help." casually states Alfonso.

I fear this is some secret training code because George livens up immediately, a sudden sense of comprehension dawning on him.

"Oh yes, you're quite right sir! The new 'teas', how fitting."

"Do adjust the vents young George, the draft isn't quite right in here."

"Of course sir, shall I fan?"

"In a bit, we wouldn't want the room inside to be overwhelmed."

"Oh not the room sir, yes all the smoke and scents shall be blown out properly."

They're dressed like a fine butler and normal servant boy but somehow the scene looks like an old wizard and his apprentice brewing a pot of trouble. I can't complain though, not when they're preparing a nice snack and warm drink.

I really am hungry and tired from all this tedious homework, especially math.

Ah I really miss calculators, who has time to compute 44half coppers per staff member in cloth allocation funds? It's doable but all so annoying. All I can do is mentally take the situations in the account problems onto actual math equations and do them the old fashioned way by slate before having Abbey or George copy them down by pen. It really does feel like elementary school again with this chalk.

Wait do people here know how to use the multiplication table? Do they have algebra? Calculus? Geometry?! How do people measure things for building and construction? I honestly can't say...maybe it's just not widespread? Oh no. No no no not another project, not on math! I'll just ask father or grampa if they know any mathematicians, surely there's someone in the troops right?

No I don't wanna do more math, even if it is useful!

"Eep, is it blowing high enough? Anything I can do to be of help?"

"Abigail, get to fanning, I don't think the smell is strong enough."

"Right away George!"

"You're all quite right, not strong enough."

Huh? I think the room smells great. Like a trendy cafe, all warm and sweet. The tea is definitely one of the blends that George brought back but the milk is being mixed with all sorts of nice things to make it smell divine. I'm so glad my chai tea is a thing in this world. Chai is delicious!

But if Alfonso says it's not enough then it's not enough. He nods approvingly as George throws in whole sticks of cinnamon and a generous sprinkle of ground nutmeg.

Oh well, that's luxurious, but tis the season. That stuff is pricier than gold sometimes you know?

My tummy rumbles and my brain is sore. I feel like the spiced milk is more than sufficiently flavored at this point but my three employees are still all working around the bubbling mix at the fireplace. Really, I'm sure it will taste great. Just scoop me some and pour in that honey. I'm getting impatient with the yummy smell.

Wait, smell?

There's a polite knocking at the little window, boarded closed to keep away the now winter chill. Instead of reacting like normal people, George and Abbey are at it like cats to a mouse. Alfonso doesn't even blink, but he does finally serve me my milk.

"I smelled cinnamon chai?!" panted the dirty little field mouse, cheeks red from the cold and obvious exercise, like he quickly ran here. Which given the dead foliage in his hair and improper outdoor attire, I'd say he just did.

Yes yes yes I'm sure half the road down can smell cinnamon chai at this point. Really now, have you all no shame? I tell you to stop kidnapping the kid so now you lure then trap him?!

For some odd reason, Georgie and Abbey have not only pulled in a wild 5-year old through the window but they're boarding it back up? And the door? This is all very shady looking, just saying. But there are no cops or child protective services to call here.

"Your milk and snack Miss Rosalia." reminds Alfonso, right before my belly growls again.

No shame, I'm a healthy growing child. Oh that is good honey spiced milk though. Very much approved, great job on the pepper grinder father.

Wait, why am I getting distracted so easily? Why is everyone creepily kidnapping Amar again? Has anyone ever taught this kid not to follow strangers with sweets?

"Why are we kidnapping him again?"

"Oh hi Rosalia. Oh is that what this is?" Amar innocently blinks towards the teens now holding him hostage.

"Uh kinda, yeah."

"Oh. Do kidnappees get chai?"

"That's not the point!"

The answer is yes apparently because by the force of magic, or Alfonso, there is already another cup of child-friendly spiced milk ready to be served, cinnamon stirring stick and all. Hey wait, how come I don't get one of those?

Georgie sets the kid down only after lightly scrubbing soap on his little hands and face, clean and fit for the table.

"So Rosalia, here's the deal. I'm tired of this, you're tired of math"

"Yes so, what's your point?"

"Watch this- Amar what's 44small coppers per person for a group of 221?"

The kid tilts his head in confusion. I'm about to attack Georgie right in the solar plexus before Afonso slides by, setting down another plate of sandwiches and an old fashioned abacus.

"Ohhhh ok so that's...9724 small coppers. Or 97Cs and 24cs. Or 9s 7Cs and 24cs." clicks the kid with surprising speed, before reaching over for a sandwich.

I pull the rest of the plate away to his dismay.

"Georgie...what kinds of prank is this?"

Like an arrogant young master, Georgie shakes his head at me condescendingly, stuffing a honey bun into Amar's waiting mouth.

"No tricks here. I thought it was suspicious for the troops to be locking a small kid in the storage warehouses so much but it turns out he actually does do the counting and logs."

"Just some of it now. They used to lock me in for real. These are really soft and yummy as always, honey buns here are the best." munches Amar.

Well, that's....concerning?

George smirks and I look suspiciously about the room. Abbey shakes like a leaf, but that's nothing new. Meanwhile, Alfonso silently drops a newly organized pile of my 'homework' down onto the table before sliding another steaming plate in front of the boy?

What is it now? Stew? Where did that come from?! If I take that away is Alfonso gonna keep pulling out a buffet from his sleeves?!

"Your house is really funny Rosalia. Sometimes they ask me all sorts of funny questions and when I answer right, they feed me? Sometimes I don't answer anything and they try to feed me anyway? I think those are called your taste tests? But some of the things smell so bad I don't even need to taste to know it's not yummy. They like me smelling things for them too? Oh I like the white beans in this one, did they fry it with oil first?" slurps the kid, obediently eating his soup like he doesn't get held hostage by entire kitchens.

Hey how often does this happen? He sounds too used to it at this point.

I almost can't believe it, but in this messed up world anything is possible. It's just that there's a lot of things going on here, a lot of facepalms over. But if you can't beat them, then there's little left to do but join them.

"....Amar....what's 785-333?"

" 452?"

" 55 x 23?"

"1265?"

"439 x 781?"

"Um...342,859?"

"What's the square root of pi?!"

"I don't know, what pie uses square roots? There are roots that grow square? And can you tell your cook Maddy to stop making pigeon pies? They don't look or taste very good and I think she's using nutmeg wrong?"

He sticks out his tongue in the memory and I do vaguely recall a creepy bird feet pie that I ran away from tasting. Oh, thank god, if he could answer that it would break my already very loose limits. I would be forced to immediately go knocking grampa for answers because really, what are the mathematic standards in this world?!

"If I sell a bar of soap for 25Cs and the population is about 8000people, and I expect to sell two bars to 35% percent of the population how much money do I make?"

"Um....." it takes him another bite of soup and less than half a minute of counting on his fingers "2800 people at 50Cs is 140000Cs or 1400s? 14S? "

"I told you, I told you!" laughs Georgie unflatteringly, what a waste of such beautiful skin.

Okay then...really good basic calculator here. Scarily good child calculator. I know for sure this isn't normal? Even for a lot of adults.

I slide over the plate of sandwiches with my latest math homework. I have already come to accept that sense just does not apply in the world, especially anyone in my grampa's camp. That's just the way life goes.

Good little human calculator, do this part for me, won't you?

Another loud not so polite knocking comes from the boarded window followed by Luka's megaphone voice, knocking my poor maid to the floor again out of fear alone.

"Amar you run too fast! I smell stuff and I know you two are eating good stuff without me!!!"

Riveting deduction Lukas. I sigh and look over at the half tea party half homework table. George looking awful with his gloating, Abbey is still shaking on the floor and Alfonso already decorating a plate of....meat pie? You know what, never mind. This entire household is crazy in its own way, even the staff.

Might as well let another crazy in. He's not getting any chai though.

"That's fine, you can trick him with milk and pepper?" Amar suggests quite cruelly.

"Wait wait wait you seriously did that to him before?" I turn to him.

"Yeah, if it's sweetened enough. Lukas can't tell. I think we can get away with adding other strange things? It was funny." the kid nods with a silly smile, looking mischievously cute.

"....Do we still have some bean soup or did you eat it all already? Alfonso do we have pepper?"

"Are you guys going to let me in or do I have to break the door?! I'll really do it! Leave me some food too!" wails the loud childish voice outside.

This is how I spent my remaining time in my terrible twos. Surrounded by homework, mysteriously appearing snacks, and a lot of crazies of all ages. This is just my life now as the young miss of the Ventrellas.

I don't even want to think about what's coming up when I turn three! Then it will soon be time to visit the stupid prince again. Boooooo.

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