The Weight of Legacy

So. Inventories were a thing.

Malwine might never have found out, were it not for Adelheid making brushes all but fade in and out of existence.

“Good. Very good.”

Bernadette seemed to alternate between hands-on teaching and just sort of leaving them alone—not that Malwine minded. She had long since concluded her guardian was simultaneously eager to raise her children and confused by the actual intricacies of education.

It seemed no governesses were willing to touch the household since the incident between Margreth and Kristian, the fault of which landed squarely on the latter’s shoulders. Malwine almost felt responsible, right up until she reminded herself of how her grandfather’s unseemly yells once carried through the halls and how that had technically been the catalyst of that fight. Technically.

Today, they were presumably meant to be drawing. Malwine wouldn’t have personally trusted toddlers with any form of paint, but this world had magic. Bernadette must have planned on some way to deal with any messes they made—and hopefully Kristian hadn’t scared away all the staff.

The thought reminded Malwine of how long it had taken her to make the connection, too. Adelheid was her half-aunt, and Bernadette was with Kristian. Neither wore rings but between the giant rooms and air of casual snobbery, they just seemed like the kind of people to demand marriages for relationships.

I wonder if Margreth owed them or something.

It might have been unlikely. At the time—and admittedly still—Malwine gave no weight to Margreth’s full name, not when the matter meant nothing to her. Nobility was the kind of thing you laughed at when someone showed up to ask if they were special because their thirty-seventh grandfather had been the cousin of a Lord.

Then again, if it matters much in this world, I can probably arrange something—between the clear station and connection to Margreth, there has to be something I could leverage for clout, if it comes to that.

Past her initial frustration, Malwine had somewhat accepted there was not much she could do on that front. [Unpacifiable] had been quiet for months. Adelheid kept her days from getting too boring, and that wasn’t so bad. At the end of the day, Malwine was stuck in the form of a toddler, so she told herself taking things a bit slow was acceptable.

She could only have maintained her initial momentum for so long.

Now, Malwine and her brush could spend some time drawing eyes. Bernadette clearly approved, even if she must have been starting to get concerned. Malwine was pretty sure she never learned to draw anything other than eyes in either life, and these weird reed brushes just didn’t give her as much freedom as ballpoint pens used to.

“Nap time,” Bernadette instructed, gently pulling away the paper Malwine had left on the floor. It was shimmery and as green-tinged as way too many things were, but as far as Malwine was concerned, it was paper.

Malwine nodded and handed her guardian the brush in her hand. “Thanks, Bernie.”

The gentlewoman choked before straightening. “May your dreams be free from the waves, child.”

From under her covers, Malwine suppressed a frown. These people had a weird obsession with waves. Especially, with being afraid of waves. Her [The Plurilingual Psyche] Skill’s level didn’t correlate anywhere near enough with her understanding of the language for her to just make sense of that without more context.

Not to mention that had been stuck at level 19 for far too long by now.

The lights dimmed, Bernadette’s footsteps fading in tandem with the shutting of a distant door—this room was still unreasonably large.

Malwine counted to a hundred, giving herself a pat in the back for such patience, then jumped right out of bed, turning in every direction. “Got it?”

A giggle echoed as Adelheid stepped into view. She held up a small booklet.

Having overhead Bernadette enough times, Malwine was fairly certain no one had a single clue as to what the girl’s deal was. Malwine herself would have assumed it to be a Skill had the adults not been debating within earshot.

Apparently, the fact that Skills required a degree of intent to be formed meant children this age should not be able to get them, something about the weight of their permanence. They’d used so much hyperspecific lingo that Malwine barely followed. It was quite rude of them to not ensure everything they said was understandable to eavesdropping toddlers.

Still wondering which Affinity it is. And if she’s somehow planted it.

That had to be it. The girl was Level 6 nowadays, after all—somewhat relieving Malwine’s initial concerns, if nothing else. Kids did just randomly increase in cultivation level, apparently. There was also the fact that [Mana Reclaimer] actually triggered if she directed it at Adelheid. She’d first tried after learning of Adelheid’s parentage, but all attempts had her ability crumbling without effect. When she'd tried on her mother's siblings and father, there had been no reaction at all.

So Adelheid had at least one Affinity. Rereading the Aspect’s description made her pretty sure the issue lay there—namely, Malwine had to know the specific Mana Source to use that. This wasn't as much of a free ride as [Once and Forever] had been.

She’d settle for figuring it out eventually. At some point, her aunt would have to figure it out herself, and they’d been spending almost every day together. Malwine doubted she wouldn’t learn the details of the Affinity sometime.

Malwine grabbed the booklet from Adelheid. “Thank you.”

“You. Are. Welcome.”

Malwine summoned the pudding she’d saved from the last meal—bowl and all—as well as a small spoon, and handed it to Adelheid. It’s a trade, not a bribe.

Sitting on the floor, she also retrieved a different brush and ink vial, along a sheet of paper. If Bernadette ever noticed those had disappeared, she had said nothing of the sort.

The booklet was thin and image-heavy. Clearly, this type of study was meant to be guided. Malwine couldn’t make heads or tails of the symbols. Still, she flipped the pages.

A grin formed on her lips. Yes!

It was a writing system. Not one she knew, but it had to be. The top of the page held ten flat geometric shapes, with around thirty other symbols beneath them. A brief glance back told her what she’d seen above the images—presumably words related to them—had come about from combinations of these symbols. A syllabary, maybe?

Malwine’s excitement didn’t last too long. She had no idea how to go about this unguided, high as her hopes had been. Still, she dipped the brush.

She figured placing the latter symbols inside the former gave her the results most similar to what she could see on past pages, though the thick brush was clearly unfit for the task. Three symbols in, only her best attempts at channeling the sunk cost fallacy kept her going. Each stroke was sloppy, and she might have deemed her work unreadable if that hadn’t already been a given from the fact that she had no idea what this said.

Might be best to destroy this eventually. Or at least keep it inventoried. The last thing Malwine needed was to accidentally start a fight again by leaving random writings around.

By the time she was done, she barely had the energy to reseal the ink bottle. She wasn’t even tired, just… disappointed. She hadn’t even been truly expecting to learn to read or write from this, but she hadn’t foreseen the act feeling so hollow.

With a sigh, Malwine returned everything to inventory, now joined by the booklet. She did hope that wasn’t the only thing Bernadette had laying around, but if it was, then she’d just see if Adelheid could take it back to wherever she’d taken it from. It had been among the books Bernadette had been looking over while sitting with them some weeks ago, and Malwine’s curiosity got the better of her.

Were it not for Adelheid’s… whatever, it might have been months or maybe even years before she saw it again. Keeping it didn’t seem like a bad long-term idea so far.