“Alright, everybody. Let’s sing together!”

Young Vanessa vis-Oddmund was surrounded by children, which was nothing new, she spent most of her days surrounded by children.

They were singing the alphabet song, going through all sixty letters of the unified Jotnar alphabet. Or rather she was singing the alphabet song and they were babbling in tune with her.

She didn’t particularly mind always being surrounded by children. Amongst all the chores that had come to her once she’d ceased to be the daughter of a count, babysitting was one of the easiest.

She’d always been talented with talk, perhaps preternaturally so. Whether it was animals or people who were simply just lesser in either intelligence or essence compared to her, she usually only needed to say a few words to get them to see her side of things.

Sometimes she didn’t even need words, if they were young enough, dumb enough, or weak enough, sometimes just a look was enough.

It was literally like taking candy from a baby. Which, for the record may or may not have been what she’d used to use her ability for, when she was still a McBriar.

Taking advantage of her dimmer cousins, knicking their things, or tricking them into doing things they probably ought not to have done, whenever they made her cross.

Which now that she was a decade or so, wiser, was probably not the nicest thing for her to have been doing as a child. But as someone who regularly took care of children, she felt confident in hiding behind the cover of simply saying that absolutely everyone has at least one bratty phase.

Now she mostly used her powers of persuasion for good. Getting her young wards to behave when they were with her, and telling them to be good for their parents, before giving them back.

A thing that, she’d only recently realized was probably partly responsible for why her work load kept increasing. With a few of the local families who weren’t Oddmunds now approaching, her relatives to ask for her services in taking care of their kids.

Van heard a noise that made her stop her singing. Her brow gathered as she listened and though she was pretty sure it was probably nothing since they were still within sight of the town, near the beginning of the road leading to and from town.

Though few things would dare stray so close, she gathered the children to her just to be safe.

“Uh...Um...okay, dears, why don’t you come a little closer around big sis Van, for a bit.” she said.

And like sheep harried by a sheepdog they crowded around her.

Van and her wards, sat near a small brook. She sat with a book in her lap and a handful of throwing knives in the book. Listening, prepared to have the younglings scatter while she faced of whatever it was making those noises.

All while also hoping that scrunching and snap from the underbrush was just some harmless critter.

Prepare for the worse, hope for the best, that sort of thing.

Finally, it appeared, green skinned, shaggy haired, tusked and horned,...her second eldest, older brother.

“By the gods, Wallace! You scared me half to death you know!?” said Vanessa. Pouting in a huff.

Wallace’s brow waggled.

“Me? Scare you? Perish the thought, little sis. Mum just sent me out to see if you need any help.”

Van frowned, thinking while her heart slowly stopped racing.

“Um...I’m not sure why she keeps sending you out here. I’m totally fine.”

Wallace grinned, his smile bearing a twinkling mischief that would eventually bear a stunning similarity to his father’s roguish good looks.

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“Oh?..So fine, you were nearly scared half to death out being out here by yourself, dear sis?”

“Sh-...Shut up!...You’re interrupting story time. Which isn’t very nice now...Is it kids?” said Van. Getting the kids to back her up.

The two dozen or so, little heads that surrounded her, turning to glare at the young man who stood by the side.

Wallace rolled his eyes, backing away slightly with his hands up.

“Fine...fine...I’ll be  quiet. Since I’ve already be sent out here I’ll just sit out here and not say a word.”

*****

Today’s story was about a baker who wanted to become a knight. And then got eaten by a dragon in the end. A grim tale, yes, but told in such a way that it made all the children laugh.

The moral of the story wasn’t about staying in one’s lane or knowing one’s lot in life, it was about knowing the costs and effort required in the safe fulfillment of any task.

The baker had spent roughly thirty years trying to be a baker and only ten months being a knight and while he’d been good enough at baking bread, he should have probably trained some more with the sword before going after that life of adventure.

While she told the story, taking care to show the children the illustrations she’d prepared for her telling of the tale, Van let her mind wander.

Or rather, it wasn’t so much that she let it wander, as it just sort of did so on its own.

It was Wallace’s fault really, he kept making faces at her, which meant she had to try very hard not laugh or swear at him. Since the last time she swore, and it ended up becoming three of her young ward’s first words, she got quite the scolding.

Though she understood that for some reason her adopted mother, Madame vis-Oddmund was indeed the one sending the boy, Van wasn’t entirely sure why he was out here.

At the moment she had three working theories. The first involved it being Madame vis-Oddmund’s way of getting the boy out trouble and out of her hair.

Which, Van supposed was possible, but not plausible, since she’d born witness to how Madame vis-Oddmund handled the boy when he was getting on her nerves and that usually involved her boxing his ears for him, and sending him to his father. A man who while also being a rascal, could be quite strict when it came to the raising and training of his sons.

There was a second more embarrassing theory, that had come to mind. Young Van was fifteen now, nearly sixteen, and that was nearly courting age, and just a few years shy of marrying age, for some of the townsfolk.

And it wasn’t uncommon for families to adopt a girl into the family register and pair them up with one or more of their children. Such practices of locking in a possible marriage prospect were especially common in remote places like Otmar, where new blood was slow to come in.

Naturally Van wasn't one hundred percent on this theory for whole bunch of reason. And naturally she’d never shared it when anyone, even her closest friends in town...again for a whole bunch of reasons.

Privately, she wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it if this was so.

On the one hand, she was pretty sure she wasn’t ready to be married. And from that one time she’d ended up playing assistant to one of the town’s Midwives, she was pretty sure she never, ever wanted to have children.

On the other hand, she didn’t really hate Wallace and the vis-Oddmund’s had been good to her. And she was pretty sure that compared to his sterner, smarter brother Egon, Wallace was just dull enough, and lazy enough, that so long as she kept on top of things and him, she could probably talk her way into the two of them having a great life together.

There was another noise, but this one was less alarming, it was the sound of horse hooves and creaking carriage wheels coming down the road.

Van paused in her telling of the story to greet the passerby. She kind of had to, since he’d stopped and even without looking she could sort of feel him staring at her.

Leaning in towards her, from his place on the carriage box. Leaning over the children. Leering, looking down her buttoned blouse at her steadily blossoming bosom.

“Good Afternoon, Master Bailey. Did...Did you need anything, sir?” said Van. Frankly uncomfortable with the level of attention she was getting from the older man.

“Hm? Oh...No dearie...No, I was just watching you taking care of the children….You know you’ll probably be a great mother one day, girl.”

“Thank you, sir?” said Van.

“I know right...she certainly nags like my mum anyway…” said Wallace. Laughing lightly as he stepped in and sat down besides her on the stone she was sitting. Casually throwing his arm over his sister’s shoulder.

Giving a look that wasn’t quite a warning, but was still a reminder.

The older man snorted and then gave a mumbled goodbye before heading on his way.

With a tumblers grace, Wallace slid off the rock and returned to his place at the side of the group.Then after a moment of just staring in space, slightly lost, Van found herself again and resumed telling the story.

There was a third theory, to why Wallace and sometimes Egon, would occasionally come out to assist, Van while she was taking care of the kids.

As Van got older, a few of the older cousins and overly friendly old uncles had taken to coming around to say hi.

At first it was nothing, but according to some of local scuttlebut that Van had overheard from the adults and her girlfriends had overheard from their parents, it might have been something slightly more serious.

Apparently her father, the mad Count McBriar hadn’t completely forgotten his youngest daughter. Writing into his will as an inheritor albeit a minor one.

Which meant marriage and her maidenhood now came with a hefty cash prize. And while the girl herself didn’t really put too much thought to the matter, it had almost definitely occurred to her parents that this might be something serious.

Especially since some of the same McBriars who’d ousted her from the household were occasionally coming around leaving invitations to tea and introductions to some of their friends.

For Olivia’s part she’d taken to sending her boys out to watch over the girl whenever she was out on her own.

For Jarek’s part he’d taken to teaching the girl along with the boys. Focusing on cultivation in the long run and a few knife throwing techniques, dagger arts, and grappling moves in the short run.

Both of the parents making sure to have their friends pass around the news that the Oddmunds, were no soft persimmons and anyone thinking to profit by taking advantage and later apologizing after they’d done something they shouldn’t and forcibly “cooked the rice”,  was liable to find themselves in a shallow grave no matter what their last name was.

And in the meantime the youngest brother wasn’t entirely idle either. Taking his exploration of his new world to new levels by quietly administering probes and dissections of those who unbeknownst to the rest of the family, had decided not to heed those warnings.

His programming denoting such persons as enemy units, which by exploratory warship logic, meant their lives were forfeit, and therefore viable for experimentation and biological sampling.