The birth record tomes covered much shorter spans than the marital ones had.
Malwine had started browsing those in the year 5750 once again, nevermind that she’d checked the marriages first precisely to confirm when Katrina and Kristian married. But you never knew! Children could have always been born before the marriage!
The first tome had been a bust, though. Predictably so. Each covered less than 10 years, so Malwine found herself having to get up and check another one. She went for Beuzaheim Births 5765-5773 against her own preferences, because looking through this was far more time-consuming than reading the marriage book had been. Beuzaheim had a healthy number of births a year, it seemed.
The names were listed alongside parent names plainly, with headers labeling each month and year. It was considerably more lackluster recordkeeping than the marriages.
She blinked, momentarily confused even as she indeed found the first entry for the family so far—under The Forgetting of 5767.
> Ilse Beryllia, born mortal, daughter to Kristian Rīsan and Katrina Skrībanin.
Malwine felt no doubt in her mind that this was her mother. The name was odd, but she could see it being shortened—if nothing else, she was now curious as to whether Kristian and Katrina had fancy birth names too.
…Do I?
Rather than dwell upon it, Malwine pushed forward. The next entry of interest she caught was not one of the couple’s children.
> Johanna Maria Bernadette Elisabet, born mortal, daughter to Lord Dietrich fon Hūdijan and Lady Johanna Babette fon Wurmeyin.
The date also matched what Anselm had told Malwine, being from The Forgetting of 5769. She’d believed him, but having confirmation with a tangible source was always preferred. She would also have to forevermore resist the urge to annoy Bernie with this newfound knowledge of her full name.
Malwine giggled. She had not felt this thrilled about doing something in literal years. Even with all the fun she’d had playing around with her Skills at times, there was something about this kind of research that satisfied a need nothing else could.
Anselm had predictably been right about his own birthdate as well. It was the first entry of its month.
> The Fog of 5769
>
> Anselm Julius, born mortal, son to Kristian Rīsan and Katrina Skrībanin.
That did bring up a bit of an issue—Malwine had yet to see Thekla anywhere.
Malwine was more than a bit peeved by the implication that she’d been wrong in her initial assumptions about the birth order, even if it made perfect sense. She’d admittedly guessed that with no real backing to the belief and simply ran with it until now.
Near the very end of the tome, she got her answer.
> The Forgetting of 5773
>
> Maria Thekla, born mortal, daughter of Kristian Rīsan and Katrina Skrībanin.
That was a surprisingly straight-forward name compared to the others—even in the widow’s Earth, it wasn’t particularly uncommon for people whose name started with variations of Mary to drop it and go by the remainder. It was pretty normal compared to the others.
Really? I’m now surprised by people having middle names? Or perhaps more accurately, Malwine disliked the implication that her own identification abilities weren’t enough to learn anyone’s entire name. Presumably, it was somewhat based on the one they used, instead.
But for real, what the fuck? Why the hell is everyone born during The Forgetting? EVERYONE!
Malwine sighed. Now that the transcriptions were done, she could bring her family tree panel back. In case she didn’t actually find anything else, she might as well save the information now, especially given how she had two panels worth of transcriptions now.
She added the full names she had gotten so far, turning the text that included the name they actually used bolder.
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 (The Cold of 5740—) + Katrina Skrībanin (The Harvest of 5740—The Cold of 5786)
⚭ The Wind of 5766 ⚭
1. Ilse Beryllia (The Forgetting of 5767—)
2. Anselm Julius (The Fog of 5769—)
3. Maria Thekla (The Forgetting of 5773—)
4. Kristoffer (The Fog of 578?—)₃
5. Alaric (The ??? of 5786—)
₃Born on either 5781 or 5782.
Children born to Kristian Rīsan (The Cold of 5740—) + Bernadette fon Hūdijanin (The Forgetting of 5769—)
⚭ The Forgetting of 5791 ⚭
1. Matilda (The Snow of 5792—)
2. Paul₄
3. Adelheid (The Forgetting of 5798—)
4. Benedikt (The Fields of 5802—)
₄Born on either 5794 or 5795.
After she was done with the births before Katrina’s death, what would she do? A birth for Kristian was too much to hope for, seeing as his nature probably wouldn’t be labeled unknown if he had a birth casually sitting somewhere in these records. Granted, not all recordkeepers were the epitome of competency, but she had to be realistic, convenient as casually finding it here would be.
…I’ll check later anyway.
As for Katrina, whether there was a birth registered for her here likely depended on whether she was also from elsewhere, or if OBeryl had come here. She doubted that was the case. The orphanage was not in Beuzaheim—she’d checked—so Malwine was working on the belief that neither of her maternal grandparents was a local.
Again, she’d read the whole of 5740 later just to be sure.
There was also the matter of Kristian potentially being foreign, though she found no clues as to why people believed that, not even in the couple’s dispensation file.
It can’t be because of how he looks. Please tell me it isn’t literally just because of how he looks.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
In any case, she would be unlikely to make any progress on that front unless and until she got more information on the orphanage. Returning to the trials might have been close to becoming necessary, after all, if only for the sake of getting more information on them.
There were two different books Kristoffer could be in, so Malwine was not particularly looking forward to that. Her time was nearly running out with how long she had spent reading. She had twenty-five minutes left at most. Being so long without practice had made her slow—these tomes weren’t even that thick.
She all but flicked the pages around after picking up the tome for Beuzaheim Births 5773-5781, not actually expecting the see anything before 5780.
Yet she did. She glanced at that panel, currently hidden. Goddammit, it happened again.
> The Wind of 5777
>
>
> Hans Otto, born mortal, son to Kristian Rīsan and Katrina Skrībanin.
Who?
Something in her memory tingled. Malwine searched her memories, wondering if she had missed something—but no, she could not recall a single instance of anyone bringing this Otto up.
Or did they? It was vague, but Malwine couldn’t discard that they might have, indeed, mentioned him. Just so early on that she couldn’t truly recall anything beyond the vague impression of it having happened.
And so, it ultimately didn’t matter—this might as well have been her first time hearing of him.
So where the hell was he? It wasn’t the first time Malwine found out no one had introduced her to an entire uncle, but this was a grown ass man.
I could imagine he’s just the responsible adult who’s moved out. And here Malwine was, irritated by not knowing him. Or maybe it’s some black sheep type of thing.
Alternatively, Otto Rīsan could just be a regular guy that simply chose to not live in the family home. The amount of bullshit present in her family so far had almost trained her to expect something to be happening.
Malwine also refused to acknowledge the possibility that he went by Hans and not Otto. One Hanß in her life was enough for her, thank you very much.
After returning that last tome, she sighed. As much as it pained her, she wouldn’t be able to linger here for much longer. She had to get somewhere isolated and dismiss the double before her [Toll] reached its maximum.
She stepped through that damned curtain again, and waved at the secretary as she left. “Thank you! I intend to visit often.”
Probably. She could always use [Remote Reading]… Nah, it’s about the experience!
Malwine turned to the left, seeking an alleyway. For the place she had in mind, she had been pretty sure there weren’t any people there when she got here, but that could always have changed while she’d been inside.
Where there had only been loose planks and an empty vendor stand before, a couple were staring at each other. One loomed quietly over the other, who was leaning against the wall of one of the buildings. Both appeared longing, the tension palpable between the couple.
And this was an awfully familiar couple.
“Ah!” Malwine raised her hands to cover her face as if she had seen a completely different scene the moment they noticed her. “My eyes!”
Abelard remained against the wall while Thekla stumbled back, looking flushed. Her pale hair was suspiciously disheveled, and she appeared ready to either run or punch this interloper in the face.
Malwine herself considered running, but her nature betrayed her in the end—this was too good an opportunity to miss out on. “What is wrong with the youth today?! You should—”
“Madam, if I may, I realize this likely looks improper given my position in the city, but—”
“—you should just go on a date like normal people do! What’s with the staring? There’s a restaurant just down the street!”
Both seemed baffled by the fact that they were, in fact, not about to get chastised, at least not for what they probably thought. They stared at her wide-eyed as she continued.
“Come along!” Malwine motioned for them to follow. They’d clearly yet to recover, as they actually did so. “I’ll show you the way! The prices there are completely reasonable.”
Probably. I don’t know, I won’t be the one paying.
There were close to ten minutes left on this form’s time, and Malwine walked as quickly as she could. Speedwalking old women were likely quite the sight to behold, and all the while, she wiggled her eyebrows at them. “So, is this a new thing or…?”
“We’ve been around awhile,” Thekla said, still looking like a fish out of water. None of her usual confidence appeared present—though that had been noticeable enough already from how little she argued.
“Oh! When’s the wedding, then?” Malwine asked with a grin, even knowing it wasn’t something that was necessarily expected in this world. If not only their—well, Thekla’s—niece but random old women in the city started asking them about it, maybe they’d consider at least announcing they had a thing going.
Thekla might have been her aunt, but she still felt a bit giddy, as if she were setting up a younger relative who’d been too afraid to ask their love interest out. Nevermind that to pretend she set this up would be entirely inaccurate.
“Do not joke about such matters,” Abelard said, though there was no fire to his tone. “Where I come from, it’s a serious decision.”
“Lizanąn, eh? You have that look about you. Worry not—I get it.”
Malwine tried not to giggle as she imagined Abelard inspecting his appearance later in a desperate bid to understand how she’d known. To her, he had always looked like just a regular person, which was once again why she still had no clue why everyone was assuming Kristian was a foreigner. Maybe it was the clothes? Or, again, literally nothing.
Thekla appeared to have different thoughts, glaring at her companion through narrowed eyes. “What do you mean, she shouldn’t joke about us being serious?”
“That is not what I mean, Thekla.”
There was a glint to her aunt’s eye as she watched him explain himself—maybe Malwine was not the only one having fun at his expense here. Whatever, not my business.
…Unlike them keeping me from disappearing in an alley in peace, sure. That was most definitely my business.
The street was empty. Good.
Malwine went first, pushing the door of the restaurant and waving at the woman in the counter. It was a modest type of place, but Malwine didn’t particularly care—she just had to leave them here and let them sort the rest of their mess out.
What would have happened if someone else caught them, huh? Probably nothing, but there still had to be consequences. They had delayed her exit route.
“Greetings!” Malwine shook the uneager host’s hand. “My esteemed companions here would like to dine in your fine establishment. They’ll handle the details, I’m just the messenger.”
She walked over to Thekla and Abelard, patting them both in the back despite the likelihood of this costing her in [Toll]. “It’s done, friends. My treat! Just take your time, really. I’m not from around here, but I can’t begin to imagine what might have happened if somebody else caught you! The people would talk! ‘What reason could they have for going about so clandestinely’, they’d ask!”
Abelard had yet to be pacified. “Nothing would have happened.”
“Eh, Baldur might have found out,” Thekla conceded, and Malwine raised an eyebrow. Oh, drama? “Baldur is going to find out now.”
“I find… I find I care not for that anymore.”
Thekla nodded, her tone a bit begrudging. “Madam Pushy over here is unfortunately right.”
“Maybe that was the push you needed,” Malwine winked.
They ignored her. Abelard glanced inside the building. “Baldur will be pissed, though.”
“Baldur, eh,” Malwine shook her head, as if she had any idea who that was. “I hear he’s prickly, that one.”
Abelard sighed. “You don’t know the least of it.”
“A libertine, that’s what he is,” Thekla rolled her eyes. “Not that I’m criticizing that, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
Malwine nodded along. “It’s always the merry ones, isn’t it?”
It was apparently ‘insult Baldur’ time. Malwine almost wished she weren’t on a timer, so she could satisfy her curiosity. Whoever Baldur was seemed to be unpopular.
“Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” Malwine insisted, motioning for the couple to step inside. Once they had gone in, she yelped from behind the door, and turned to give the still-empty street one last check.
“Oh, shit, I forgot my purse.”
“You wha—”
This wasn’t her preferred alley, but it would have to do. If only they hadn’t been there. From the moment they’d noticed her, she’d had to shift gears, and this was what she could come up with on the fly. Not to mention, Malwine hadn’t been lying—watching them stare longingly at each other, literally all the time, while they refused to acknowledge whether they were in a relationship was more than a bit annoying.
As for whether it had been the right thing to do?
Malwine had acted just as the widow would have if given the same opportunity. I think the widow might have been an asshole. She pondered the matter further. Nah, I’m fine.
Besides, Kunegunda was nice and all, but she still acted as a shield for consequences between herself and her actions in Beuzaheim. She honestly wouldn’t mind if Kunegunda got an ‘irksome old lady’ reputation over there—it even went well with Kunegunda’s appearance, that of Margaret Smith. That woman would have yelled at them for completely different reasons, though.
Malwine could also always just make a new persona. Still, she wouldn’t push it by sending an endless lineup of old newcomers suddenly eager to examine the archives. This power was unlikely to be unique in the world, or even just in Grēdôcava.
This was a one-time event, she assured herself. Unconvincingly.
Malwine exhaled, staring at her room’s ceiling. Soon enough, she frowned. Wait a minute.
How the hell did I end up in my room?