Malwine had done it.
She stood right at the end of the gravel path after an arduous journey, days’ worth of effort. Well, more like a few minutes, but it felt like more. Without her attributes, she would not have made it this far—each step had felt perilous enough as it was.
If she had to guess, the uncertainty was more of a factor than the path itself. No matter how far she got, or how much she told herself that things were going well, that tiny voice in the back of her head kept telling her this was too easy.
Only [Unpacifiable]’s continued silence truly kept her going at this point.
She took a deep breath before taking that first step off the path.
Malwine flinched. As a rule, she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings unless they were relevant to whatever she was thinking about. More than once, the staff had switched out the curtains, and by the time she noticed, she wasn’t even sure when the change happened.
Even then, something about where she’d decided to run off to—or perhaps, the fact that she had in the first place—was putting her on edge.
From where she stood, Malwine was pretty sure she could see what she was looking for. Between blades of grass, she could see dry, nondescript flowers. The placement was right as well, lining up with her memory of that trip to the estate on Bernie’s arms, what now felt like so long ago.
Those vaguely look like petals so they probably are petals, Malwine nodded to herself. Flawless conclusion right there.
She’d gotten used to the occasional tint of the world by now, but she couldn’t be sure if they were a greenish brown, or just brown. They also just looked off, in general. They were still, unlike the living counterparts she recalled, but she figured the knowledge of how creepy they must have once looked was probably making her jittery by default.
If something was going to be the harvestable version of the titular items from The Flowers, Malwine guessed it had to be these sad things.
Yet again, she bemoaned her current size. For all her attributes might have allowed her to somewhat sidestep the limitations of being—as far as she could guess—somewhere around or below 3-feet-tall, they unfortunately did next to nothing for her when it came to literal perspective.
It was hard to parse, but something about being in such a wide space without being able to get a good view of her surroundings bothered her at a nearly primal level, overriding all personal preference. The grass itself wasn’t too tall, but…
Sneaking a glance in each direction with about as much delicacy as the widow about to cross a street, Malwine almost took another step, then froze. If she went through the grass, she’d get her clothes dirty, and how, exactly, was she supposed to explain that to Bernie? Even if she changed clothes and threw these into her inventory, Bernie would still question the loss.
Malwine sighed. She’d have to take a risk. Gritting her tiny teeth, she let [Shieldwork] create a sphere around her, as small as she could make it. It pulsed, bright as always, and then it was gone. Watching out for any reaction, she stood still as seconds stretched into what had to be minutes, and only then did she have the confidence to walk again.
Her constant checks in every direction as she stepped forward might have bordered on paranoia, but the biggest risk had passed, as far as Malwine was concerned. If anyone noticed her, she’d run for it. That was what any misbehaving kid would probably do, anyway.
I’m not a misbehaving kid, Malwine assured herself.
It didn’t take too long for her to start wondering, just how far into the grass was she supposed to go? There were harvestables within reach already. With inventory being a factor, she didn’t necessarily have to limit herself as far as grabbing them went—the only real question was how long she was willing to spend here.
Bernie probably wouldn’t lose track of her forever.
Realistically, how many harvestables did she want to pick up? She still had that potion—frankly, she might never actually use it. Not anytime soon, at least. It didn’t appear to have an expiration date, and between [Meditation] and how much she slept, she wasn’t exactly hurting for [Integrity] restoration.
Malwine only really had two things she wanted specifically—a Skill Creation Token like the one Adelheid got, and another Trait Creation Token—but considering how she very much hadn’t meant to reveal some random potion the first time around, she suspected she couldn’t exactly count on her Luck to do her any favors.
Not that it would stop her from firing off [Enforced Longevity] just to throw more effective Luck at the reveals.
Let’s go with twenty… I just need the two tokens. I’d rather think I can’t get what I want once in every ten.
Once again, Malwine was glad to be completely clueless about how statistics or percentages worked for system mechanics like these. Or about how statistics really worked, in general.
As she knelt, the invisible shield around her all but pushed the grass away.
Gingerly, she reached out, watching the closest blades of grass shift as she made an attempt to touch a dead flower. Something flexed almost imperceptibly, and Malwine’s fist closed around the crinkling petals. It felt more… solid than it should have been. She pulled, and the remains of the flower crumbled to ash almost instantly.
Malwine’s gaze snapped to her palm as she unfurled her fingers. She’d expected something to happen, but it somehow still managed to catch her off-guard. A small glossy disk rested there, just like the harvestables Adelheid had given her last time.
Unknown Harvestable
Claimed by Malwine Rīsanin
This disk represents an item attained during The Harvest. Accrue [Toll] to reveal its corresponding item. Results may be influenced by a variety of factors.
She gulped involuntarily, sending the disk to inventory. It hadn’t quite clicked for her that the item description would just straight up snitch on her. She had to be careful with these—they would leave her inventory right when she was about to reveal them, and not a moment sooner.
Shuffling back onto her feet, Malwine went for another harvestable, then the next. They weren’t spread out too far, but she could have sworn the flowers she remembered had been more plentiful. Did all flowers become harvestables? She couldn’t think of anything of what she’d heard or read that said that outright, and given how everyone’s strategy for the seasons seemed to be to stay behind wards, she wondered if anyone had even studied the matter.
No, Malwine. She had to admonish herself immediately, before the idea took root. That wouldn’t even help!
She wasn’t universally averse to studying things that didn’t relate to her preferred subjects—she might not have adjusted to all the Grēdôcavan bullshit she’d witnessed so far otherwise—but she drew the line at things that looked like they might take a considerable amount of time to sift through.
By the time she got to the tenth harvestable, Malwine noticed she was close to panting. The act of constantly kneeling then getting back up was managing to take more of a toll on her than the relatively long walk here had. Grumbling, she got back to work.
She had settled on the number of twenty, and the task itself wasn’t particularly time-consuming. A part of her had expected harvesting to be more complicated than that, but the mere act of ‘plucking’ the dead flowers from the ground was all it took.
Then it was done. All twenty harvestables sat in her inventory, and it was time to get back to the house.
And so much for staying clean.
Malwine grumbled. She’d have to clean her hands. If she remembered which panel it was that she had been using to keep the latest version of her low-priority to-do list, she would have made a note to start storing water in her inventory for convenience. Maybe some soap, too.
Strictly speaking, nothing was stopping her from just stealing some soap. Of all things, that realization sent her reeling. She could have been storing so many things in her inventory! At no point had she seen a limit on how many items she could put in there. Sure, she knew she couldn’t just throw furniture in there, but random nicknacks would be no issue.
“Are you lost?”
Malwine just screamed, sneakiness be damned. She hadn’t even made it to the path, and she didn’t recognize the voice. She turned to see a figure some distance away, standing eerily across the grass.
[Unpacifiable] hummed. It wasn’t quite as overt as it had been the first time around, with her attributes bearing their full penalty at the moment, but the Skill clearly hadn’t forgotten what it knew.
As the man stepped closer, she let her [Identify] Trait reach out, not even bothering to ask herself whether it would be a good idea.
Forester - Human - Level ??
It was a useless result, but the act succeeded in grounding her. He worked for Bernie. He probably wouldn’t mean any harm.
Malwine still wished she could disappear Adelheid-style. For a split-second, she pondered just enabling [Enforced Longevity] and fucking right off with the 250-plus Speed that’d grant her, but that’d likely only worsen things.
No need to make anything weirder than it already was.
She chose to simply run at normal speeds—which was probably still suspiciously fast for a toddler, now that she thought of it. That 25 Speed still did an alright job.
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Gravel scattered upon her footsteps, and it wasn’t until she was too close to the estate to risk being seen that she allowed herself to slow down. Her shield was still up, for what it was worth.
Her next steps weren’t as rushed as they perhaps should have been. Deep breaths.
A slightly embarrassing urge to cry reared its ugly head, but she pushed it back. As much as she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t deny that strong emotions and reactions were harder to manage in this life. Maybe it was her age—she didn’t exactly have any literature to check out on how the discrepancy between her identity and her physical age might affect such things.
The estate was well within sight by now. Malwine estimated it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for her to get back. For how long had she been gone?
…Hopefully not too long.
Between one blink and the next, the man was back, leaning forward some feet away with a look of concern. “Do you need help?”
“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Malwine glared at the forester. “Ever heard of announcing yourself so you don’t scare people?”
In a move that would have made Adelheid proud, the forester took a step back, then he just wasn’t there anymore.
Malwine blinked.
“Greetings, I am walking in your direction.”
The forester was back, taking a step forward this time, as if he had never moved from the spot.
Malwine got right back to glaring. “Are you trying to mock me?”
“No,” the forester assured her. “Humor can help settle the nerves after a scare.”
“Only if the joke is actually funny.”
She would probably have found it funny had Adelheid done it, actually.
Things just didn’t feel the same when some hidden level who worried her Skills was the one doing it.
“I repeat myself. Do you need help?”
“Nope!” Malwine huffed, fists clenched. She resumed her slow stride. Maybe she should have cared more for the impression she was giving off to this near-stranger, but by now, she’d internalized the fact that adults would probably shrug off literally anything she said, no matter how odd. It was almost liberating, not having to secondguess whether she had dumbed down everything she said well enough. “I’m going home!”
“And you were outside because…?”
How is that any of your business? Malwine vocalized a pfft. Nosy fuck.
As she kept walking, she couldn’t help but wonder—did the random areas where the harvestables existed fall under the purview of forestry? There weren’t any trees around this area, unless the distant mangal counted.
Maybe that was why he bothered, actually. Did foresters work like rangers did, making sure people didn’t get lost? That would explain a lot, as annoying as she found her failure to remain unnoticed. Perhaps she should have clarified. “I wasn’t lost!”
“Very well,” the forester nodded, and Malwine did a double take.
“Why are you following me?”
“Because The Harvest is a dangerous time.”
“How so?”
“Not all the beasts born from The Flowers die with them.”
Malwine froze, thinking back to Bernie’s explanation of the seasons to her. Had there been beasts involved in The Flowers? With a wince, Malwine acknowledged she couldn’t recall. “Beasts?”
The forester had the gall to shrug. “Life blooms from and during The Flowers—not all of it becomes literal flowers. Sometimes it brings harmless animals that fade away soon enough, but it isn’t unheard of for stronger beasts to spawn and linger. Has no one ever told you not to wander alone?”
No one ever lets me wander in the first place, so no.
“Are there any?” Malwine had almost forgotten how [Unpacifiable] considered this guy a threat—he seemed almost a bit too forthcoming.
“Not that I know of, but I’m not letting a child walk around without protection when the chances aren’t absolutely nil.”
Kids got some leeway for being a bit rude, right? Right? “No offense, but what would you do if there was one? Cut down a tree to make it fall on it?”
The man turned to her, looking at Malwine as if she’d grown a second head. “A lumberjack cuts trees. A forester participates in forestry.”
Nice impression of a dictionary, buddy. Actually… “What’s forestry?”
Malwine tried her best to bury her glee as the man blinked slowly. She’d gotten what, two opportunities to do this in one day? It was almost shamelessly fun to watch people’s brains short-circuit as she asked progressively insistent follow-up questions.
Unfortunately for her, he seemed to take it seriously enough to start blabbing about patrols. Not even about trees, just patrols.
By the time they were close to the stairs and attached deck she’d departed from, the man looked like he was debating whether he should have just let her brave the possibly beast-infested outdoors.
I did take a risk, I guess. I’m not actually sure how much those wards cover.
“…and that’s why open areas with considerable plant life must be patrolled frequently, especially when it’s a place like this, with a history of fell presence.”
And of course my punishment is to listen to a lectu— Wait, what?
“Fell presence?”
“…It’s one of those things you’ll likely learn when you’re older.”
“Everyone says that!” Malwine huffed, her reaction all too genuine. “Instead of answering me, everyone just says that.”
“Because children shouldn’t worry about that,” the forester insisted. “Besides, as far as I know, it was a long time ago. It shouldn’t be a direct problem to anyone, it simply means there’s a greater need for caution than I’d otherwise advice.”
Malwine almost went up a step, but stopped herself. The forester had paused a few feet back, still answering her questions, but not moving any closer. He clearly didn’t intend to actually go to the building.
She still huffed again. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Call me Veit.”
Pulling the Teach card with that phrasing, I see. She suddenly couldn’t help but wonder if that was common. Teach had blamed it on the seafarers, but maybe there was some cultural diffusion at play.
“Well, thank you for making sure beasts didn’t eat me, Veit.”
That got a laugh out of the man. If he didn’t have his hair tied back, Malwine might have worried over hair that light and silvery, but she’d gotten plenty of chances to check during the walk back. Those ears were perfectly round.
And now Malwine was jealous, given the implication that traditionally unnatural hair colors existed in this world. She’d seen him at the party, but only now did she realize that was just outright silver, down to the gleam.
“It is my job, young mistress.”
Malwine stumbled. Oh, no. Had she been that annoying?
I almost feel bad. This Veit had been relatively nice, even if he didn’t answer her question about this apparent fell history related to the land… which would have to be yet another concern for her future self. That, she did make the effort of quickly adding to her list.
NEED HARVESTABLES FOR:
— Astral projection Skill or equivalent bullshit
— A Trait to make sense of the timeline (probably for a Soul Skill)
MAIN THINGS TO FIGURE OUT:
— Why was Beryl cursed?
— How can I make Elflorescence regret existing and/or possibly handle the aforementioned existing?
— How did I become me if Beryl’s kid was supposed to be dead?
— When was I born and how did stasis affect the timeline for me?
— I should get everyone’s birthdates while I’m at it, it’s essential information.
— Who does {Ore} come from?
— What’s up with Katrina’s parentage?
— Was OBeryl in a cult?
— What the hell do you mean, ‘history of fell presence’?
As she regained her footing, she resumed her climb back to the deck. Bernie was nowhere to be seen, and by now, Malwine suspected she might have forgotten about her. That was not good, considering she’d have to climb far longer stairs if she was to somehow make it to the room she shared with Adelheid.
“One thing.”
Malwine turned, a bit stunned by how Veit only spoke now that she was almost through the door. “Huh?”
“One of my earliest memories goes back to when my sister and I decided swimming across the river was a good idea. Needless to say, I was afraid of running water for years, though I must have been about two at the time… I shouldn’t recall that, and barely do,” Veit said, tipping his head—hesitating?—before continuing. “If anything good comes out of any fright you felt after sneaking out, maybe you’ll remember once you’re older. Maybe not. Either way, if you do remember, look into stronger ways in which to mask yourself. Stronger than whatever your mother did. Because it isn’t infallible.”
Malwine’s heart sank. “What?”
“You have Affinities. I suspect your mother did something to hide them, but it’s far from perfect. If you wish to improve that, you will have to take matters into your own hands, once you can.”
Was he implying what she thought he was? Malwine called up [Close to my Chest]’s description. She hadn’t looked at that Skill in ages.
[Close to my Chest]
Everyone that can access the
Trait: None
Aspect: [Reveal Nothing]. Your level, core stage, and other details are hidden unless you choose to pay a sustained [Integrity] cost to display them accurately.
(!) Traveler, your chosen path affects this Aspect. If you surpass double digits, your displayed level digits cannot go lower than Level ?? once your path has applied to them.
What the fuck? Malwine’s breathing grew shallower. Over level 200?
As it stood, she could identify anything at Level 110 or under. Unlike Kristian and Abelard, who Malwine figured had to be over 110, the forester’s level was outright hidden. Somehow, even with [Unpacifiable] considering the man a possible—if unlikely—danger, she still hadn’t considered he might be a high level. Most of the staff hovered around the low 100s, so perhaps she’d defaulted to assuming he was the same, if more mindful of privacy.
“Thanks?”
“You will also be in for a surprise once you start being able to understand what the system wants to show you,” Veit continued. “Whatever this infamous Beryl Rīsanin did, you seem to be further along the levels than a child would usually be.”
Fuck, fuck, FUCK. “What do you mean?”
“I’d rather not spoil the surprise for you.”
Oh, you asshole. Malwine no longer felt bad for going out of her way to be annoying earlier. She was almost sure he meant her level, but she wished he’d elaborated.
And I’m not supposed to be able to understand the system at this age? That’s bullshit! I’m pretty sure Adelheid has Skills.
It could always be the case that her entire family was weird, Malwine figured, but the majority of them didn’t have Affinities. She suspected faster progress was likely connected to those.
Never before had she been so glad for her mind’s capacity to wander, or so Malwine thought. If she’d dwelt upon almost any part of this conversation for longer than a few seconds, she would certainly be freaking out right now.
“Okay…” Malwine nodded, rushing inside. This time, he didn’t say anything that prompted her to look back. Safe for now.
She was still a little weirded out, but everything he said sounded true enough. She could only hope going outside wouldn’t always lead to people speaking to her… then again, she had wanted to—eventually—start talking to the staff to have something to do while her own family history kept hitting that brick wall.
Wait, I didn’t even ask him anything about his parentage to kill time! Shameful.
Malwine shook her head. She was pretty sure it took her nearly as long to get to her room as it had taken her to get to the harvestables. Bernie fell asleep, didn’t she?
She couldn’t help but smile, even if Bernie’s absence was worrying her.
Twenty harvestables sat in her inventory, after all.