Anlal followed behind the servant who guided him through the long corridors of the Arndal mansion. This time it wasn't Miachel — which turned out to be the correct name of the male servant who sometimes had to escort him around — but a maid that he recognized often did jobs for the head butler.
The size of this estate was impressive and it did take some time to move from the section where his chambers were to the dining hall. While his room was in way poorly maintained or less decorated than the rest of the mansion — he actually thought it was a bit too extravagant — it was notably further off from most of the important parts of the mansion; sequestered away in a part of the estate where there wasn't much activity.
He suspected that, before his awakening in this body, there weren't many people that visited the area except for cleaning servants, the nanny that he'd seen on his first day here, and perhaps the body's mother at times. The only saving grace, if you could call it that, was that the boy likely wasn't cognizant enough to recognize the sad situation he was in. Anlal wished he could have done something for the child but it was too late now.
He was stuck here now though, at least for the time being, so the very least he could do was treat the boy's life with respect. That included the mother who had cared for her son deeply — despite how vexatious and embarrassing it felt being doted on like a baby by a woman almost half his age.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost failed to notice the maid stopping in front of a large pair of wooden doors. He stopped himself at the last second before he walked into the doorway.
He shook his head. My disciples were right. Perhaps I should do something about that old tendency of mine.
Paying more attention to what was going on inside his head instead of around him had always been a bad habit of his — one that his acquaintances often complained about. His disciples had always been especially vocal about it. he'd ignored them, of course. Many of his best ideas came to him at these moments of intense focus...and paying attention to everything around him sounded tedious.
But after seeing the look on the maid's face right now, he considered trying to break that habit. Having someone stare at you as if you were an idiot was not a feeling that he particularly savored. But he didn't chide the maid. He could guess what the servants might whisper and what their expectations were about him. Lecturing her now wouldn't help much. Especially while he still lacked full control of the language. it was better to wait. Their opinion would change eventually.
Perhaps the maid felt embarrassed when he looked at her because her cheeks reddened slightly and she hurried to open the pair of doors in front of her. Anlal gave her one last look before entering through the opening.
The dining hall itself was — like the rest of the mansion — very large and ostentatiously decorated. He wouldn't go as far as to call it gaudy or pretentious; it had taste and didn't overindulge in embellishments of gold or other precious materials as he'd seen in many other noble households. But it was still a clear showcasing of the family's wealth.
Big chandeliers with candles that Anlal was certain were of a magical nature hung from the ceiling basking the room and its occupants in a bright light. Around a tall rectangular table that spanned almost a third of the room sat six people, with two servants standing at the ready at the edge of the table. Ivana Arndal, the mother of this body, was the one Anlal recognized first. She sat next to the head of the table and wore a bright expression as she looked at him.
Next to her was the head of this household and the father of this body, Duke Valdimar Arndal of the Astaria duchy. While the man did look quite handsome for a middle-aged man, with his black hair, clean-shaven jaw, and a rather stately figure, Anlal felt that it all was offset slightly by the frown currently on the man's face. It was faint, most likely almost imperceptible to most, but he was certain that this man was not especially happy with his presence here.
On the side of the lord, opposite of Ivana Arndal, sat a young teen almost the exact image of the head. The boy even had the same frown, although it was much more apparent on him. This had to be the eldest son of the household, Garnier Arnald. Ostensibly Anlal's current 'older brother'.
Next to him sat a girl very much the female counterpart of the teen. The only noteworthy difference was her long hair. She had to be Garnier's twin, Elena Arndal. Unlike her brother and father, she showed no special reaction to Anlal, merely observing him as he followed the maid towards the empty seat that was designated for him.
Other than them there was also Villette Arndal, the blond-haired girl that he had met once before. She wasn't paying him much attention — rather she was in the middle of lecturing the last person seated at the table.
"Gian, mind your manners! We are in the presence of mother and father." she said, slapping the hand of the small boy next to her that had attempted to grab a piece of bread from the table.
The boy — who had to be the second youngest son Gian Arndal — stuck his tongue out at his older sister and leaned back in his seat. He looked to be around six or seven years old, and from the black locks on his head, it was apparent which of his parents he took from.
The mother of the two children didn't comment on their actions. Her attention was still focused on Anlal and her smile grew even larger when the maid pulled the chair out for him.
"Take a ****, honey. We've been waiting for you." she said and gestured for the male servant closest to him.
The servant moved over to lift him up into the chair, but Anlal waved the man away and climbed onto the chair by himself. This may be the body of a sickly child, but this much he could do by himself.
Ivana seemed glad seeing this, waiting for the maid to push his chair closer to the table. "How are you?" she asked. "There's no pain, is there?"
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Anlal looked at her. The woman truly had too much concern. "I am...well. As always." he said. It took all of his effort to try and not sound like a fool.
"I am glad," Ivana said before looking at her other children. "Greet your brother."
"...Brother" Garnier said.
Elena nodded her head at him. "Brother Khalid."
Villette turned away from Gian toward Anlal. "Welcome, brother Khalid." she said.
Gian himself simply stared at him.
"Are you really my brother?" he asked. "You **** look like him."
"Gian!" Villette slapped her younger brother's shoulder.
"Gian, that's no way to treat your brother." their mother said with a stern voice. "*********."
The boy looked at her with wide eyes, before turning back to Anlal with a sullen expression. "Fine. Sorry."
The lady of the house smiled. "Good. then we are finished with the greetings."
It didn't go past Anlal's notice that the lord of the house had been quiet for this entire exchange, but he decided to ignore it. He had seen plenty such people throughout his life. Their minds were not easily convinced or changed. That was simply how it was.
Ivana gestured for both of the servants that stood at the edge of the table and they walked over to one of the walls, where several trays with polished lids over them were lined up on two tables. The servants began carrying the trays to the main table.
"How are your lessons going, Khalid?" she asked as the servants were occupied with their work. She and the rest of the family seemed used to this process.
"They are going good." he said, observing one of the servants as he placed a tray on the table and removed its lid revealing a cooked bird of some kind. It reminded him of an ordinary chicken, but it had a long tailbone sticking out of it.
"I'm glad. I've heard nothing but ****** from your tutor. They say you're ********* at an incredible rate." she touched the arm of her husband that sat close to her. "It's only been three months and he's ******* learning how to read. Isn't that *******?"
Valdimar Arndal simply nodded at his wife. "I see" he hummed as he grabbed a knife and fork and began cutting into a piece of meat that one of the servants had placed on his plate.
"He's ******* five, mother. Is it that *******?" Garnier asked.
"Are you jealous?" Elene glanced at her twin brother.
He scoffed. "Of course not. I just **** think we should ******** him for every little thing when it's something that any normal person would ******* know."
"Gian is still learning how to read." Villette pointed out.
"Yes, but at least he knows how to speak."
"Garnier!" Ivana glared at her son.
Anlal only half-attentively listened in on the ongoing discussion. His main focus was on observing the table manners of the others at the table. His so-called tutor had tried teaching him how one was supposed to hold and use the different food utensils at a dinner with nobles, but he had always been especially poor when it came to decor. He'd never seen much point to it but, for now, he wanted to at least start to leave a decent impression on others.
"I speak poor, yes. But I can hear, elder brother should know." he said as he placed his focus on cutting into a piece of meat. He was having trouble with it until he realized that he was using the wrong knife. "Try remember this." he added, switching to another knife. This one was much better.
But by the blazes. Why would they have five different knives for one meal? There was no rhyme or logic behind it!
"Yeah. Me too!" Gian chimed in, giving his eldest brother what Anlal could only assume was supposed to be a glare.
Villette stared straight at Anlal after what he said. He couldn't quite figure out what the girl was thinking about.
"Enough. " a deep voice spread across the table. Valdimar Arndal stared at his children. "We are ****** dinner. None of your *********. You are upsetting your mother."
"It's alright ****," his wife said. "They know to keep it down we are dining."
She gave Garnier a look. "And I am expecting you to ****** yourself."
He turned away from his mother's gaze. "...Yes, mother."
She nodded her head. "Good," she said. "Then with that dealt with, I would like to hear of everyone's week."
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Anlal followed the same maid from earlier back to his quarters. The rest of the dinner hadn't been terribly interesting. From what he had gathered, these dinners were a weekly occurrence so Ivana had spent most of the time getting updates from her children about how they spent their time the last week. However, it was obvious that her main focus had been him. A large part of it had been her asking him questions and gushing over his progress.
The youngest and eldest sons — Gian and Garnier — hadn't looked particularly happy about this. But the daughters didn't seem to have any complaints. Was that common around here? The boys sought out the attention of their mothers more than the girls did? Perhaps the girls in this culture had to mature earlier.
Or it could simply be that Garnier was more immature than usual. Or that his sisters specifically were more mature. Or neither.
He hadn't been here for long enough to get a good grasp on what the expectations actually were of children from noble families. Many of the things here reminded him of his home — such as the similar architectural style and the hierarchical relationship between the servants and masters — but it wouldn't do to make too many assumptions.
When he finally reached his chambers, the maid opened the door to let him inside. He gave her a slight nod before entering and she closed the door behind him.
He looked around the room and, after a moment's thought, he brought out his doll-golem and moved over to sit at the desk that he'd made into his inofficial work area. The different lines and symbols that he had carved into its wooden body were vague when he wasn't actively pouring mana into it, but they were still clear to him.
He remembered creating a toy much like it when he was a young child. He had probably been around the same age as that Villette girl.
It was such a simple contraption, yet it took him almost a month of work to create. He was so far away from his goal.
Perhaps he would have laughed at this situation when he was still in his old curse-afflicted body — but not now.
It was odd. At times, he'd gone close to a year with barely any human contact and it had never bothered him much. But now it had barely gone a quarter of that amount of time and he was starting to miss those that were close to him.
Guess there was a difference between simply not meeting people and being unable to meet them.
Perhaps he'd gone sentimental from seeing this family interact with each other. They were not especially close, but they were family nonetheless.
He had originally been prepared to wait a couple of decades — give or take — to become strong enough to even get a chance of returning. But that was far too long. His youngest disciple, Daria, would be a full-grown woman by then. She might even have a child.
It was very likely that she would be grown-up when he returns no matter what he did. But still. He wasn't willing to merely spend his time waiting.
His fists tightened around the doll.
Building this body up to the point where it could handle the same spells as his old one would take a lot of time. There was no way of mitigating that fact. But there were other ways of handling the matter. Although it would be expensive.
Luckily for him, he was now the son of a very wealthy family.