She hadn’t felt this type of dread in years—none of the widow’s later discoveries in life had been the type that had her stomach dropping as she read a page.
> The aforementioned Hildegard fon Werruin sought at our doorstep to insist, again, that something be done, but the family she speaks of does not exist, by order of the Tacit Saint.
>
> This entry is made to denote deaths of all members of the family with potential did indeed happen, their obits fed to the sea, and no further reports will be accepted on the matter.
>
> This entry is closed.
A fucking Saint killed off the fon Hūdijanins? Malwine wasn’t even sure if this was surprise that she was feeling, or at least whether it was directed at the culprit having been a Saint. She wasn’t particularly eager to assumes such a title even remotely implied goodness, but she wasn’t sure what she had expected, not really.
The surname being hidden, and often at that, had convinced her something shady had happened, but this seemed… well, Malwine found it underwhelming, in its lack of a clear reason.
When she thought of everything she’d learned of Bernie’s family prior to this moment, she guessed she’d developed an expectation that there had to be some interesting backstory to them. That they must have been interesting people, and that learning of whatever happened to them, distressing or not, would have had a bigger impact on her.
Instead, she just got two plain entries, from The Fog of 5789 and The Rain of 5790. OHeidi died, and it seemed her family soon followed, but no context was given at all.
Malwine tried to push away that selfish anger—she knew it wasn’t a good look, that the lack of information was a bigger bother to her than the knowledge that this was Bernie’s family she was complaining about, for their deaths not being elaborated upon.
It was probably a touchy subject for the woman herself, so it wasn’t as though Malwine would be asking anything.
No. To keep her thoughts from going further off the rails, Malwine refocused on the one detail she’d previously overlooked.
That was the estate’s butler. The ancient lady who hadn’t been happy to see Adelheid when the girl had wandered around—someone who had apparently been there when OHeidi died, and who killed someone on the Saint’s side, then.
Only the fact that Adelheid was off playing somewhere with Franziska kept Malwine from asking her sister to look for Hildegard immediately. She’d been hesitant to try and interfere with Adelheid’s newfound attachment to the young girl—Franziska was certainly a better friend than she ever could be, if only so Adelheid could spend time with someone who wasn’t just pretending to be her age.
I miss that simplicity, Malwine exhaled. A treacherous part of herself sometimes did get jealous at the ease with which the girls simply lived life, with no concerns or stressful long-term plans even when they knew about Skills and the like.
With asking Adelheid missing as an option for her, Malwine found herself having to accept she would be unlikely to find a way to contact the woman anytime soon, and with that, both [The Way of the Clave] and her common sense reared their head to tempt her to facepalm.
This wasn’t Veit she was thinking about—this random elderly butler with ties to Bernie’s family was the last person she wanted to interact with without some serious forethought, and even the double might not be a guaranteed barrier between them, if Malwine chose to go about it that way.
As Veit had told her, she wasn’t anywhere near as strong or special as she liked to imagine she was.
Not yet, you ancient logger, Malwine imagined retorting, if only within the confines of her mind.
So what did that leave her with?
None of her Skills were…
Malwine huffed to herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She did have an alternative, if she really wanted to dedicate more time to this.
She’d been pretty sure,—even before she stopped using the Trait after what she’d dubbed ‘the Katrina incident’—that [Imitation Beyond Filiality] would allow her to target Bernie.
If nothing else, it seemed like the logical solution.
She bit her lip—it was… slightly difficult for her to let go of that refusal to use the Trait again. As much as she’d appreciated [The Things We Do For Family] and it’s function as a bullshitting Skill, Malwine couldn’t quite shake off the discomfort that came with {Legacy} having basically commandeered the trial for Katrina.
It had been well over a year since then, and that feeling hadn’t dulled in the slightest.
That thought—that a year had passed since she last used the Trait—sent Malwine reeling. Ever since she’d started discussing things with Veit, she’d had to come face to face with the fact that she was prone to wasting time, not for the sake of her own wellbeing but because she simply wasn’t inclined to do certain things.
It was comparable to a—real—little kid refusing to do their homework until the last moment because they just didn’t feel like getting it out of the way without deadlines or circumstances forcing them to.
Again, it was a hold-out from the widow’s life—Malwine wanted everything she did, to be something she did because she chose to, not because she had to, all despite understanding the impracticality of that.
Devilsdammit, Veit. She couldn’t help but resent the man for having been right about her, yet again.
Before she could spiral any further—let alone convince herself to backtrack on this decision—Malwine put the tomes away and headed for the exit. If the answers she now wanted wouldn’t be there for her to see, she’d have no choice but to look for them herself.
Whoever that scribe was, was someone who worked for OHeidi. And not only did they dismiss Hildegard, but they didn’t seem to have any qualms about just ignoring the fon Hūdijanins existence.
Certainly, Malwine hadn’t been there, and didn’t exactly have a grasp on the cultural implications of a family being wiped out by a Saint. For all she knew, this might have been par for the course, but the phrasing of it made her think otherwise.
Who were you, ‘Tacit Saint’? Malwine frowned on her way to a lone corner, where she dismissed her double. Unlike her grudge with Elflorescence, she didn’t immediately jump towards adding them to any of her panels. The idea of labeling someone else as her enemy, even within the confines of her mind, when she knew next to nothing about them had her hesitating.
Their actions should be enough. Even if she didn’t know who the Tacit Saint was, even if Bernie wasn’t her favorite person, anyone who would massacre a family over hostilities with their already-dead matriarch was someone she’d need to watch out for.
As she returned to her real self, Malwine took in a deep sigh. Oh, I think I might have forgotten this was a cultivation world. Hard to tell with all the weird people sometimes, but it checks out.
Besides, what guarantee did she have that this wouldn’t be a problem for her down the line? The entry made it sound like they’d gone out of their way to only kill those with potential—which lined up with Bernie being left behind—but Bernie had children, now. How far would such an order go? If they were lucky, perhaps enough time had passed that the Saint had sort of forgotten about them.
For the first time, she found herself resenting how [Unpacifiable] only appeared to truly trigger with regards to threats to herself, even distant ones.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
If the Skill’s silence could have at least told her it wasn’t likely to be a problem for Adelheid, she might have let the matter sink into the back of her mind—but that silence only stood for Malwine herself.
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? Elves?!
— What’s up with Katrina’s parentage?
— Was OBeryl in a cult?
— What the hell do you mean, ‘history of fell presence’?
— Seriously, what is this area called?
— What's up with the supposedly inanimate Devils being credited for actions in the past?
— What happened with the Tacit Saint and should I be looking into what the Saint equivalent of deicide is?
With that added to her panel, Malwine braced herself, hiding under her blankets. A simple tug in [Imitation Beyond Filiality] direction was all it took for the world around her to dissolve.
----------------------------------------
The table somehow appeared even less inviting than it previously had as Malwine approached it. Something about the space appeared dimmer, neglected. Can Traits be passive aggressive about their abandonment issues?
Shaking her head, she reached for a new index card, focusing in on Bernie. Her guardian, to her Trait, was an afterthought—loosely connected, but not truly considered part of her family by its functions.
Only upon her mental command that the trial for Bernie begin did that connection strengthen.
Again, the world shifted, and Malwine found herself sitting down in some form of nook next to a window. It overlooked Beuzaheim, she realized, though she couldn’t make the exact location out. Only its streets made it somewhat recognizable.
A foreign pang of nostalgia flooded her as the trial’s setting finished ‘rendering’. The room she found herself in was filled to the brim with books, and she sat between cushions, a single thin book in hand. Slightly wavy black hair cascaded past her shoulders as she closed it just to read its cover.
> Words of Advice for Mortal Noble Children
She was Bernie for this trial, Malwine realized. Much as she’d been Kristian on his—OBeryl’s and Katrina’s were the odds one out. Did them having Affinities play a part in that? Or was it because they’re dead?
Malwine wasn’t afforded much more time to think about that, as a knock on the door had her jumping where she sat. Orienting herself, she reopened the book to a random page and chose to stare out the window before answering. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Bernadette,” a rough yet feminine voice answered.
That tells me literally nothing. Malwine decided to continue examining the interesting pavement below—no one appeared to be walking by, so she couldn’t even just spy on people—and sighed. “Fine, come in.”
The handle turned and a tall woman slid in. She exuded gracefulness, her hair in a white bun with two curled strands framing her wrinkled face. A tray with two steaming cups of tea was in her hands, and the door shut behind her without a touch.
“What do you want?” Malwine asked. Channeling her inner Bernie proved to be a difficult task—her guardian was uptight and blunt at times, but unlike Malwine herself, she never really seemed to lean into rudeness outright.
A grumpy noblewoman persona might have been beyond her capabilities of portrayal, honestly.
“Your company, dear,” the woman told her as she took a cushioned seat some distance away, still within sight of the window. She placed the tray between them. “Your mother expects an apology.”
“Oh. What for?” Malwine raised an eyebrow. “Surely, she didn’t take offense to the truth.”
Good, good. Keep it vague. If that failed, Malwine would resort to spewing some line about OHeidi. Actually, I might just namedrop OHeidi anyway just to see what happens.
“You disrespected her in front of everyone, Bernadette.”
Bernie? Bernie disrespecting someone? There must be a mistake. Certainly, Bernie had always struck Malwine as the type of person who would be careful about going behind people’s backs instead of resorting to confrontation. “Oh, she knows what she did.”
“A perceived slight does not give you the right to go against her, dear.”
“Really?” Malwine asked. While the woman seemed to have come here with the intent to either convince or comfort her—perhaps both—it was hard not to assume there was some deeper agenda at play. Bernie had grown up in a noble household, after all. “What do you think I should have done instead?”
“You should have just told her yes. Lord Bernard isn’t that bad, even if his skillset doesn’t match Old Martin’s.”
“Maybe Old Martin was better for a reason,” Malwine shook her head. This was sliding into dangerous territory. If the woman started talking about too many people Malwine couldn’t recognize, she might run into a similar issue to what happened during her trial for Kristian—her ability’s grip on this scenario would falter, either because she failed to be convincing or because of who she failed to be convincing towards.
“Well, he is dead now,” the older woman snapped back. Her tone still lacked an edge, but Malwine could tell she would not entertain whatever ‘Bernadette’ was playing at for much longer.
“Tell me, then,” Malwine folded her arms, meeting the woman’s gaze. “I doubt grandmother would agree to this!” Whatever ‘this’ we’re discussing is, anyway. “Does she know?”
“You know all too well she has passed the responsibility for our affairs on to your father, Bernadette.”
“And that’s why things have been going so terribly. Did he really think I would simply—” Think, Malwine, think, what type of thing do noble ladies need to worry about? “—agree to marry some fiend just because he’s not the worst option out there?”
The woman before her paled, taking a hand to her mouth as she gasped a bit too genuinely. “Bernadette! Wave take me, is that what you thought we were discussing? No wonder!”
“What else would you be discussing? I know what you’re like.”
“No, dear, no. I know your brother exchanged some unkind words with him, but no one is planning to break your betrothal to the Rīsan boy. The Metalbreaker is too good a potential ally for us to waste the chance.”
No one wants to break the WHAT? Malwine had been so caught off-guard by that she initially didn’t catch how the woman had referred to Katrina.
“Katrina Skrībanin,” Malwine spoke her grandmother’s name aloud for what might have been the first time. There was a longing to her own voice—well, Bernie’s—as she’d said it, and she pursed her lips.
How old is Bernie here? Katrina had been alive at whichever point in time this trial took place in, but that clarified little.
“She may have been born base, but make no mistake—the woman is not to be underestimated. What she lacks in education, she makes up for in pure cunning.”
“She was from Regnąfels, wasn’t she?” Malwine blurted out. She’d started this trial out of curiosity and frustration alike with regards to the fon Hūdijanins’ abrupt fate, but she’d take any opportunity she got to try and learn more about her own family.
She would have never expected such a thing from a Bernie trial, honestly.
“That is what the matriarch told me,” the woman admitted, though she appeared hesitant. Was [The Way of the Clave] functional here? Somehow, the readability of her expressions seemed to fluctuate, and oddly, at that. “Neither of us know whether to believe it, but if it is true, remaining on her good graces is even more important. How someone from beyond the waves managed to avoid another House’s attention is beyond me, even if she’s mortal.”
Malwine had to keep her eyebrows from reaching her hairline at that. She knew people believed Katrina to be mortal, and that must have been deliberate on her grandmother’s part, but… why?
What did Katrina get out of that misconception?
Sighing, Malwine rose from where she sat, putting her book down atop a delicate cushion. Bernadette was never the type to remember the names of the staff, as far as Malwine had seen. Certainly, she wasn’t as overt about it as Kristian was, but it probably came with the territory of being the head of a household in a culture like this. “Look, I need to get some sleep,” Malwine gestured vaguely towards the door. “Can you lead me to my chambers?”
“If that is what you wish, young mistress,” the woman nodded, though she eyed her curiously. Malwine followed her as they entered the hall. An intricate running carpet, with brown and gold patterns woven over beige covered the entirety of it. She only caught a glimpse of the wood beneath—perfect and polished—before the trial started to unravel, like a loose string on a shirt that got pulled and took the entire garment’s integrity with it.
You have failed a trial to copy attribute points from Bernadette fon Hūdijanin!
You may not use [Imitation Beyond Filiality] on Bernadette fon Hūdijanin for: 300 days.
What the hell? How did I fail?
Malwine huffed as she crossed her arms, not even bothering to rise from under her blankets.
Apparently, being unconvincing wasn’t the only way in which things could go sideways.