As Malwine found herself learning the hard way, there was something worse to do with regards to Anna Franziska than trying to fend her off.
No, the real menace was expressing interest in a topic.
Malwine found herself staring at Adelheid out of the corner of her eye for the tenth time today. Something told her the girl was looking a bit too happy today, and she hadn’t been too forthcoming as to what she’d been doing while Malwine had been looking for her.
“This doesn’t benefit us mortals much,” Anna Franziska said as she demonstrated, showing off a larger version of the item she’d given them. “I recognize it can be useful for learning how to activate anything that accrues [Toll], however.”
“But I thought you were going to show us more mana stuff!”
Malwine’s eyes narrowed. Unlike Adelheid, she recalled no such promise. I mean. It’s good that she’s putting herself out there. Maybe she’s socializing more.
It had been her bad for prematurely declaring victory when it came to lessons with Anna Franziska, however. The woman wasn’t even a bad teacher—it was simply quite bothersome for Malwine to balance her desire to indeed learn with that preference for having full control of how she spent her time.
She stared at the toy before her. It reminded her of those finger traps that could be earned as rewards in arcades back on the widow’s Earth, except this one was made of a rough sort of fabric and had yet to actually try to trap her fingers.
“This is dumb,” Adelheid pouted as if this hadn’t clearly been her doing. “I already know how to put mana into things!”
Anna Franziska raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Please don’t tell her about all those harvestables we took. I swear…
Malwine went as far as to shoot her little sister a pleading look. For all the girl seemed to understand—even crave—secrecy, she sometimes got a little too close for comfort to revealing things. The emerging pattern so far was that it usually happened when something seemed dumb to her—and that had quite the wide definition.
“Everyone can accrue [Toll] instinctively, yes. Neither age nor mortality matter. It’s just part of what makes us human,” the maid-turned-teacher explained. “But some of the educational toys I have in store need more finesse than that, child. You’re already at the age where you’d be expected to start honing your motor skills, and this is one of them,” she glanced not only at Malwine, but at her own daughter. “I confess this will mostly be of use to you, but all may participate.”
Malwine continued to stare at the object so as not to give the woman a pointed glare. “What does the thing do, then? What’s it good for?”
“Good question, Malwine. Most objects that have you accrue [Toll] either prompt you to accrue as much as you physically can, or a specific amount. However, you may not always want to leave it up to that. This practice toy does neither, then—it enables you to know how much [Toll] you would have accrued on each attempt, but breaks the cycle before it actually courses through you.”
So it’s for mana management? Mana economy? I don’t know. Whatever the efficiency process is called.
It didn’t help that the item did not show her any panel, no matter for how long she stared at it. Clearly, not anything had a default identification result, but this looked like exactly the type of thing that should!
Malwine continued to stare at the thing anyway until she caught sight of a certain mortal girl also having a bit too much fun. Franziska still rarely talked, but clearly, she was having an easier time at this than the two people who actually had Affinities as Mana Sources.
Malwine sighed. She’d barely gotten used to Adelheid’s continuous presence, so Franziska being around was still bizarre. It was easier to accept if she just thought of the girl as a shy puppy that followed them everywhere, though she suspected her little sister would not appreciate the thought should she voice it.
As the ‘lesson’ continued, Malwine had yet to figure out how the toy worked. The only reason she didn’t try and determine how aerodynamic it could be was the presence of witnesses.
----------------------------------------
Anna Franziska continued to deliver once Malwine asked if they could study something else, if with the worst possible timing.
Getting insistent about history lessons might not have been Malwine’s wisest move in recent time, and that was including everything that went on with OHeidi. And Veit, probably.
The problem wasn’t that Anna Franziska hadn’t listened as Malwine once feared—no, the issue was the opposite. Their new teacher had gone as far as to conclude her knowledge on the subject was too shallow, and that perhaps it might be best to get someone who actually understood the topic well to talk to them about it.
And of course that had to be Johann Fastēn, of all people.
As soon as Anna Franziska had explained why they were visiting the library today, a flip had switched within the antiquarian. It was like the man had gone from the annoying persona Malwine knew to a surprisingly different—but just as annoying—version of himself.
“Ah, of course,” the antiquarian smiled as if looking back fondly at memories of times long past. “It is a topic I hold dear, and I am always willing to enlighten young minds on the subject. It’s a shame more people don’t teach their children to be proud, really. I take it they have never heard of Grēdôcava’s creation, over five-thousand and eight-hundred years ago?”
“I do not believe so,” Anna Franziska shrugged.
Malwine frowned. “Is it like, well-documented history from so long ago, or a creation myth?”
“A myth?! Girl, if you weren’t so young, I’d kick you out for the disrespect,” Fastēn scoffed—oh, there’s the guy as I remember him like—and Malwine simply rolled her eyes despite herself. “Oh, Grēdôcava. By far the greatest of all lands to rise from the ashes of the Devils’ Kingdom.”
“Is that why everyone keeps saying things like ‘in any Devil’s name’?”
Though it had been Adelheid who spoke this time, Anna Franziska had learned better than to shout ‘Language!’ at that phrase by now.
“I know not—I waste not my time on the intricacies linguists care for,” Johann Fastēn shook his head. “The legend of the ancient kingdom's fall is by far the most credible of explanations for the current state of the world. Grēdôcava, Lizaną, and all our neighbors were once rightful parts of the Devils’ Kingdom, and the thirteen Executors ruled above all in the name of their Devils.
“In the end, one of the Executors betrayed the rest, seeking to usurp their positions from under them and become the kingdom's sole ruler,” he continued. “It led to a civil war, from which the greatest hero arose—Prince Adalhard fon Grēdôcava, our Principality’s founder. It was he, {Avaritia}’s Executor, who slew the traitor and put his armies to the sword. But the damage was done. What remained became the Principalities of today, each led by a different Executor—a different Prince—for they could never trust each other again.”
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“What's a linguist?” Franziska asked Adelheid in a whisper.
Adelheid leaned closer to whisper back, “I think it's someone who investigates tongues.”
“Ew!”
Malwine thought the question she had in mind might be slightly more pertinent. “Executor?”
She still remembered the one from Matilda’s party, though she hadn't paid that much attention to it beyond her initial confusion.
The antiquarian shook his head. “They are people who follow the will of something larger than themselves. They have a calling.”
“Every settlement that's large enough has one or two who could be called Executors,” Anna Franziska added. “It has something to do with how the system manages territories, and I'll be the first to admit I don't understand the whole of it.”
Johann Fastēn scoffed in disdain. “Those so-called Executors are unworthy of the title. It was meant for those who spoke for the Devils who freed humanity from the yoke of gods. Society has twisted the term, diminished its value, and now people with the least relevant of missions may yet call themselves ‘Executors’. As if!”
Malwine ignored the tirade. So that was, what, Beuzaheim’s Executor? Perhaps she could investigate next time she went into town, though it wasn't exactly a priority at this point.
She turned to the antiquarian. “So Grēdôcava is what's left of this Devils’ kingdom?”
“Historians don't agree even amongst themselves, as the oldest maps are inconsistent,” he admitted. “Nine other Principalities lay claim to pieces of it, though they are all far lesser compared to Grēdôcava. Lizaną also comes from it—that free state, republic, whatever its calling itself this decade. I have to admit it's more credible a claim than even other Principalities, for it actually sits upon the ruins of one of {Descent}’s shrines.”
“That kingdom had shrines?” Adelheid’s curiosity was clearly piqued. “What for?”
“Devils, girl. Obviously,” the antiquarian rolled his eyes, reminding Malwine of why the idea of making him trip headfirst into a fist was so tempting. “There were thirteen at the helm, or at least, that many had Executors. Not all endured to this day. {Descent} was the greatest of them, yet it was the first to be lost.”
Malwine stepped closer. “And what, exactly, were Devils?”
“They are Affinities themselves, concepts given form. Not all Affinities have Saints, but none could exist without a Devil. But that's a subject I know not many details for, and speculation is the greatest offense of all.”
Keeping her own thoughts from being overcome by tangents on how much she despised Fastēn’s attitude by itself was a struggle and a half. Certainly, baseless speculation was something to avoid, but the antiquarian clearly treated the topic like a doctrine not meant to be analyzed.
“So they are, what, objects representing an Affinity?” she asked.
It was Franziska who uttered a question of her own almost simultaneously. “Why don't all Affinities have Saints?”
“They could be anything, even mere objects,” Fastēn said, his tone begrudging. “But none save their Executors know which form they take. It isn't for us to know. As for why not all Affinities have Saints, it's said that there's a threshold for it, which few ever meet.”
“A threshold for the Affinity or for the Saints?” Malwine hadn't been particularly curious about that part, but now that he'd addressed it, she found it somewhat hard to wrap her head around it.
In the same sense she'd simply accepted the existence of summoned heroes—of Champions—she'd accepted that Saints were a thing and had not thought much of it. I never really wondered why Saints were a thing, especially if gods aren't… anymore, apparently.
There had to be some intriguing missing context there, but she wasn't about to ask this borderline fanatic why and how Devils had supplanted the gods.
“One or the other, or both. The Saints don’t publicize those details. It’s not for us mortals to know,” the antiquarian shrugged. It seemed as though he loved that response.
There was another thing Malwine could ask, however, and she hoped at least that might get answered. “What were the Affinities the thirteen Devils stood for?” she had to pause for an embarrassing second to recall the one that had been named mere moments before. “{Descent} and what else?”
“The most famous are {Descent}, {Tristitia}, {Superbia}, {Withdrawal}, {Vanagloria}, and {Bond}. The others are… more complex and you wouldn't understand them even if I named them, girl.”
Malwine almost raised her eyebrows at that. For once, she couldn't tell if he was being serious or just covering up the fact that he didn't have a full list at hand.
That was the last question the antiquarian answered, in any case. He'd wasted no time starting to shuffle papers, claiming the topic had somehow reminded him of something else he needed to do.
After the brief ‘lesson’, she and Adelheid went back to their room. Anna Franziska had something planned for the evening, but the schedule they'd worked out had them taking breaks between lessons—even the shitty ones.
Malwine hadn't expected to leave the library so disappointed. The antiquarian had either only known—or only chosen to share—the bare minimum. The guy was also so patriotic that Malwine struggled to determine if that was some legend or propaganda being spread, as opposed to factual history.
Then again, maybe that's something all worlds had in common. History past a certain point comes only from legends.
Still, this had been the most she had managed to learn about Grēdôcava ever, even if it was filtered through a biased source.
Wait.
Malwine went as far as to press her palm against her forehead for that one. She had information now. Not as much as she would have liked, but certainly more than enough to have an idea of which books could be helpful.
Firing [Remote Reading] off, she gave herself another tour of Beuzaheim’s creatively organized library.
How far from sibyls would Devils be?
She tried not to think about how she found a book specifically about sibyls this time around. If she hadn't been so—understandably!—rushed when she first sought books on the matter, she might have noticed sooner.
The books she skimmed blurred into each other. Malwine lost track of the bizarre progression in topics sometime between the ones about epidemics and the inexplicable amount of tomes about things that could course through veins. Of all the things she knew she was missing some context for, that was one she would try her best to never get clarification for.
She was positively exhausted by the time she found something even remotely related to the topic, desperate for a nap. A book about tonics that could be crafted with common food ingredients included some details on the background of each recipe, and one recipe for stomach aches just randomly went on a tangent after offering some advice on how the cooks preparing these tonics should not be ‘commonborn folk’.
> You may wish to dismiss this, be it out of preference or because hiring the commonborn to serve in your kitchen leaves you with coin to spare, but consider the following: what do you think happens when you leave crucial responsibilities in the hands of the uneducated?
>
> Some would argue the Devils’ Kingdom's fate was sealed the moment Gilardina was allowed to become {Descent}’s Executor uncontested. She was uneducated and unqualified, with only her word as ‘proof’ that the Devil had chosen her, where every other Executor at the time had the backing of good breeding and generations past of family members who understood what it took to undertake these responsibilities.
>
> Some would go as far as to argue that had Gilardina's rise never been permitted, the Kingdom would still be unified today. After all, had the controversies she caused never happened, Prince Florian would have had no reason to feel the Executors themselves were losing the excellence that once set them apart, and he would never have felt the need to take matters into his own hands.
Malwine shook her head. She was glad to have found something else that touched the subject, but this was a worrying trend. What I would give for a source on Grēdôcavan history that isn't also an ass.
The nap would do her well before dinner, and with all those mixed feelings she'd been refusing to address since ranking up, she found she had not felt well-rested in a long time. She couldn't even really blame the lessons themselves for it, as she still had plenty of time to herself…
No, the issue was the anticipation. Malwine couldn't recall when the last time she'd been looking forward to something like this, with a set time and place.
The Snow couldn't arrive soon enough.