Something Malwine hadn’t quite appreciated was how downright beautiful the changing of the seasons in this life could be. Sure, this new month was bringing forth an insurmountable wall of fog that stopped travel in its entirety, but that didn’t change the fact that it most definitely looked cool.
While staff and family alike hunkered down, Malwine took advantage of the fact that no one had come to drag her indoors. She’d caught glimpses of the estate’s so-called wards on occasion, but she’d never quite appreciated them. The Snow’s effects had barely been visible from where she lounged.
The Fog was a different matter. Distant as it was, she could see what looked like clouds forming, far too close to the ground. To her past life’s sensitivities, it would have seemed unnatural, closer to cotton balls than real fog.
At some point, far beyond the paths she could recognize, the fog simply stopped, held at bay by something she could neither see nor feel.
Malwine stared at it until she got tired—she apparently hadn’t gotten as used to the seasons as she’d once thought she had. They were so awfully literal.
On to matters of greater relevance, she knew this was technically her uncle’s birthday, and awaited the chance to say something. Anselm didn’t wander outdoors, though.
Malwine huffed.
“What do you want now?” Kristoffer asked. His hands were in front of him, as if he planned to grab anything she asked for—that was how he had handled interactions so far, after all, as if simply handing the sippy to the toddler was the full extent of childcare. His expression was not that of someone who actually wanted to help, though.
Malwine eyed him, uncrossing her arms. “It’s uncle Anselm’s birthmonth. I wanted to say, congrats.”
She only barely stopped herself from saying she had ‘meant to offer congratulations’, instead shortening it as much as Grēdôcavan allowed. Malwine still caught herself sometimes, for the sake of some plausible deniability if nothing else. For all people clearly did not care about how she acted, she still reminded herself not to push.
“It is mine as well,” Kristoffer practically mimicked her huff, his expression of hurt looking a bit too genuine. “Do I get congrats?”
“Then why did you not tell me?” Malwine frowned. Frankly, it was really his problem for using that tone when talking to a child. Teenagers could be so rude, pfft! “No one tells me things!”
But seriously, my guy, if you’re feeling hurt about it you should probably tell Bernie. Or your literal dad.
“…Fair,” Kristoffer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, sorry, I’ve had a bad day. Everything is Thekla’s fault. I’ll see you later?”
It seemed he only now noticed he shouldn’t yell at his niece, and Malwine chose that moment to jump on the chance to get more info. “Can you tell me everyone’s birthmonths? So I can say congrats to everyone!”
Her uncle did no such thing, already on his way to the door
Kristian was a terrible role model, teaching his son to walk away from her like that. Once she had stronger legs, she’d start chasing after people. Just you wait.
She scribbled furiously on her family tree panel, perhaps more irked by the lack of a year than she should have.
Unknown (Rīsan?) + Unknown (Rīsanin?) - - - - Someone with {Ore}?₁ + Beryl Skrībanin₂
\ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . /
Kristian Rīsan + Katrina Skrībanin †
|
Beryl Rīsanin
₁Isn't dead???
₂Might have died around The Fields of 5750
---
Children born to Kristian Rīsan + Katrina Skrībanin (—The Cold of 5786)
1. Beryl
2. Thekla
3. Anselm (The Fog of 5769—)
4. Kristoffer (The Fog of 57??—)
5. Alaric
Children born to Kristian Rīsan + Bernadette ‡ (The Forgetting of 5769—)
1. Matilda (The Snow of 5792—)
2. Paul
3. Adelheid (The Forgetting of 5798—)
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“Children have their interests,” Kristian assured Bernie. Honestly, the fact that they were having this conversation within earshot was kind of offensive. “When I was her age, I hoarded rocks. Or so I am told.”
“I suppose you are not wrong,” Bernie conceded, her hands over her abdomen. It had taken Malwine far too long to notice she was looking most definitely fuller. “But it strikes a chord for me, reminds me of what happened with Meredith. I would simply prefer the girl to not think of such things, lest she find herself growing stressed.”
Who? People mentioned random names all the time, but this had to be the first time they’d done so while actively speaking of her as well.
“She’s three—I doubt she even could.”
Malwine would have laughed had they not been avoiding her questions—they seemed unironically concerned about introducing her to the concept of time past a certain point. Bernie had taught her about the cycles just fine, but apparently, memorizing birthmonths was a step too far.
She’d have to postpone her questioning of everyone else about their ages, for now.
What a letdown.
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After a bit, it became increasingly clear that the family would be getting a new addition, once Bernie abandoned subtlety. Furniture was being shuffled around, and Malwine had overheard them speaking of a nursery.
Kristian was supposed to leave once The Rain came, alone, to purchase some goods from Beuzaheim for this new nursery.
Hey, you guys have a crib out there. Wherever it was that Beryl put it.
Not that Malwine actually brought that up. She hoped she’d get to watch her grandfather leave, to see just how people traveled during The Rain. No one had come or gone during The Fog so far.
She still hadn’t figured Adelheid’s second Affinity out, either. A part of her grumbled—technically, if she waited for Adelheid to grow up, they could probably have an honest conversation about it… but Malwine would rather avoid that.
Will I eventually have to apologize to her? Malwine sunk into her chair. To any of them?
No, Malwine would just move on with her life and never inform her family members of any of the things she did while young. She was pretty sure ever letting them know she’d been a super-aware baby would be a nice way to completely ruin their relationship, so hiding it—if poorly—was completely justified.
Speaking of people who didn’t wait for conversations, however, Bernie was still spending a great deal of the day trying to talk to Adelheid, who’d simply make grumpy faces and mostly ignore her.
Malwine felt bad for both of them, really. Mercifully, Bernie gave up soon after.
Still, Bernie’s efforts on the nursery gave Malwine her private time back. Adelheid had gone right back to disappearing, but the [Shieldwork] grind was coming along nicely.
Your [Shieldwork] Skill has improved! 5 → 7
Your [Multitasking] Skill has improved! 7 → 8
You have reached Level 60!
She wasn’t even sure why [Multitasking] leveled anymore—it just sort of did. Not that Malwine would complain. After splitting the attribute points five-ways, none were under 2.5k—or 25—anymore. She didn’t regret spending the earlier ones on Resilience. They’d all balance out eventually.
[Mental Defense] was harder to grind—Malwine did feel a bit miffed about that. Even [Write Anywhere] had gone further before the bottleneck came.
She supposed the circumstances were different, though. There was more to be done with the Skills that got to level 25 than with [Mental Defense]. Bashing it against the curse had been effective, but it had been a single act, and repetition could clearly only get her so far.
Malwine still hammered away at it, every now and then. She imagined the gains to be some tiny decimal, but it didn’t cost her anything to do it, not anymore.
Before The Fog was done, her thoughts were wandering back to that same fever dream—she really wanted a Skill for mobility. Preferably something akin to astral projection, if that existed here, to avoid true danger. Being limited in what she could do and where she could be would probably only become a worse barrier as time went by, and the thrill of leveling the Skills she got during Matilda’s party had dulled out by now.
But would she even use it solely for exploring, if she somehow got it? I could always try and get these idiots to get their act together.
It had been her attempts at understanding Adelheid’s Affinities that gave her an idea—or more accurately, reminded her of something. Hadn’t Adelheid revealed harvestables as items to make Skills with? Malwine had been hung up on the matter of whether or not her little half-aunt had Skills, but she hadn’t stopped to consider the fact that those existed.
How would I even get harvestables?
Maybe Adelheid would steal some for her again, but she wasn’t sure if she could rely on that—after all, the girl was being subjected to more scrutiny now than before. No, Malwine would have to take matters into her own hands.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
…Somehow.
It was a start, certainly. She once again had something to occupy her thoughts, to deal with just how boring these months were shaping up to be. It seemed like year-end in this world was not an interesting affair, not really. These were the idlest months by far, with not even the bustling of staff moving around to keep her distracted.
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Your [Mental Defense] Skill has improved! 14 → 15
Books did help, though it took some pointed stares—not to mention a few tears—to convince Bernie to take her to the library, which seemed to have been commandeered for the sake of Matilda’s studies.
“Do not bother your aunt,” Bernie had warned her. “Her education is at stake.”
Naturally, Malwine immediately activated [Remote Reading]… only to be met with crushing disappointment. Matilda was reading something about manners.
Her aunt herself did not appear happy to be there at all. All that fangirling over Sir Heinrich had irked Malwine a bit, but she understood it was normal. As a real child, she’d had obsessions aplenty. Now, her aunt’s eagerness to read seemed simply gone, and it wasn’t hard to tell why. It really didn’t seem fair to deprive the poor girl of recreational time just because she got a Skill and reached the Mortal Esse.
Malwine couldn’t exactly do anything about it, however.
The library had lost most of its novelty to her, but there were still countless books for her to at least check out. Not that it kept her from the occasional bout of disappointment. In some ways, she still hoped to find some holy grail of information among the books, but she had yet to luck out.
She sipped on her latest serving of juice, manually reading one of Sir Heinrich’s adventures. This one was about exploring a mermaid kingdom, which was… actually pretty tasteless, if Malwine were to be asked. It only made her all the more curious as to how old some of these books were, especially those that didn’t say so.
Fastēn had simply shrugged without a care in the world. “I do not waste my Skills on such things. They are meant for books of actual significance.”
Asshole.
Malwine got back to reading, not particularly eager to argue with the antiquarian. [Multitasking] let her keep firing off her probes throughout the library—maybe she’d find something interesting, eventually.
----------------------------------------
Her time in the library was not entirely fruitless, as she stumbled upon a cooking book that just casually had Grēdôcava itself on its glossary. None of the books around it were history books—or even nonfiction, for that matter—so as far as Malwine knew, it was only there on account of whichever unholy organization system Fastēn used.
> The Principality of Grēdôcava, the land gods may never again touch. Ruled by a Prince and council of Saints. None of them can handle spice.
Why she needed to know about Grēdôcava to learn of wherever-this-was’s various local recipes for boiled spicy eggs, Malwine had no idea, but this was the closest she had gotten to answers on that front.
No wonder everything’s so bland, Malwine complained to herself.
Finding a book on the topic of Saints and summoned heroes would probably be next on her list, if she’d actually been able to make sense of where things were in the library. Given what she knew of Kristian’s past, it wasn’t impossible for the man to own literature on the subject.
Malwine had long since stopped believing this collection had come solely from Bernie’s management of the household. There was an annoying amount of etiquette books around—which Malwine tactfully avoided reading, for now—but most of the books were all over the place. For one, there was far more fiction than she’d have expected from a place she’d initially considered less advanced than that of her first life. She’d been expecting practicality above all, Malwine supposed.
Not complaining…
She didn’t quite believe her own words.
----------------------------------------
By the time the Skill actually went up, the month had come and gone.
Again, Malwine managed to get away with being unnoticeable enough to stay on the outdoor area as the month ended. Adelheid would be proud.
The fog had been clearing throughout the day, as far as she could tell. It wasn’t as sudden a change as the last month had been, and it lingered as The Rain reared its head, rising with each drop that hit the ground.
She’d expected the rain to be stranger. Maybe greener. But to her, it just looked like, well, rain. Perhaps it would look peculiar up close, and though she’d known there didn’t appear to be any particular celebrations for the new year, it still saddened her.
5801 came to a close as Malwine kept her eyes on the distant rain.
----------------------------------------
A carriage came for Kristian, though Bernie seemed to take the time to have some words with the driver. Surprisingly enough, Kristian behaved, as far as Malwine saw. He got in, and off they went, and the rain did not touch the carriage, as if a bubble lingered close to its surface.
Maybe Skills—or even wards—like [Shieldwork] were more common than she’d thought, after all.
By the time she went to sleep that day, her grandfather had still not returned.
Malwine understood people were allowed to do as they wished, but she would not deny she wondered if these people adding yet another member to the family was… wise.
Boredom was really getting to her, and the limitations of her physical age grew increasingly irritating. Books mitigated it somewhat, but with Matilda’s party and later, the situation with the future new half-sibling for her missing mother, Malwine was starting to feel a bit neglected. She’d never meant to hog the attention, but she was downright ignored most days. Bernie watched her during mealtimes and ensured she was cared for, but not much else happened. She couldn’t even just annoy people into talking to her, if they didn’t spend much time around her in the first place.
Is this what Adelheid feels like? Not that her little half-aunt ever showed up, either. She’d caught glimpses of her on occasion, usually while half-asleep, but they’d yet to talk again. I wonder what she does with her days.
At some point, cultivation became her new hobby. She’d yet to decide what to do with {Ore}, but {Vestige} became her third Root, now tied to
You have chosen to plant a Vestige IX
Which Class category would you like to make {Vestige} the Root of?
Available Class categories:
If you use a Root as Mana Source for any abilities beyond the Class it was planted for, its effectiveness will be limited to 25% of what it would be within its Class.
(!) Skill effect present: [Enforced Longevity]
Mana Sources
Root
Acclimation
Control
Legacy ∞
50
25
Foresight IV
0
0
Vestige IX
0
0
Locked
-
-
Locked
-
-
Locked
-
-
Locked
-
-
Other Affinities: Ore III
Malwine had gone so long without doing this intentionally that she’d all but forgotten how to, and visualizing a meditating widow no longer seemed to cut it. She only truly felt ‘movement’—so to speak—if she focused on her core directly.
The {Legacy} Root was prominent, akin to the raised roots of mangroves. {Foresight} and {Vestige} wove around it, the latter one especially so. She’d started to notice water-like mana gathered under it, not truly a liquid but the representation of something else. Accumulated power, she guessed. Maybe she needed more of that to breakthrough, maybe she was still missing something else.
The core itself had grown clearer, firmer. Malwine would have hesitated to think of it as realer, because it remained a very much intangible thing, but it took almost no effort to see now. The ‘water’ changed in color depending on which Root she drew on—the lightshow managed to be a bit impressive, really. Especially against the darkness within. Only the core and channels seemed to exist when she viewed herself in this sense, just a Malwine-shaped void with streaks of light flowing through it.
Channeling {Legacy} was still so easy it hurt. Perhaps its Timeless rarity had something to do with that—it might have also been the widow’s influence. Knowledge about how Roots worked was one of those things Malwine had accepted she’d probably lack for a while, as no one in the home would find the topic relevant, unless something changed once Adelheid grew older.
If they do start getting things for Adelheid, do I just reveal myself or…?
Maybe she could just be another weird kid—there would be no need to delve any further into her origins.
Malwine dismissed those thoughts, returning to her core. {Foresight} and {Vestige} were not too dissimilar, the latter having kept {Missing}’s hue. It appeared she would share Adelheid’s fate of having a Class name that closed in on unreadability someday.
Both clung to {Legacy}, the only thing keeping them above water. Sparks floated around her core, loose, as if the light were reflecting off something too small to see. The unplanted {Ore}, Malwine guessed.
She focused on {Foresight}, watching as the waters shifted from a crystalline citrine to crystal blue-purple, before losing that secondary trait and simply becoming a pond of pure blue-purple liquid. {Legacy} was the landscape’s only source of light.
If she thought of it, the mana would circulate, shooting through her channels.
But it would clearly take an eternity.
Two hours in, {Foresight}’s Root had barely thickened at all, not even grown longer. It might as well have been a vine. Patience, patience.
Malwine wished she’d formed a proper habit sooner—getting used to this would take time. Yet at last, she no longer felt as though she’d be stuck at the top of the Early Esse forever. It felt like she stood a chance.
As {Foresight} settled back down, Malwine allowed the waters to return to neutrality—crystalline, but not quite tinged with citrine.
It was {Vestige}’s turn, now.