The Weight of Legacy

Malwine wasn’t even sure how they’d ended up in the foyer—Anna Franziska had been so enthralled by Adelheid’s mere presence that they just sort of wandered for a time.

By the main door of the estate stood Klaus, the attendant—presumably due to the staff’s lack of an actual doorman. “I don’t know. You?”

“I don’t know,” Anna Franziska said, just as she had the last time. “He’s just too new—and no, I don’t know who else might know.”

“Why do they need to know, anyway?”

“They’re… working on their homework?”

“Yep!” Malwine confirmed before repeating her initial explanation. “It’s my assigned reflection! That people have names and ages. And that sometimes, they are Grēdôcavan.”

“Only sometimes,” Adelheid confirmed—that was certainly the main takeaway about this entire thing. “But mostly, always?”

“Sounds about right,” Klaus laughed. “Personally, I’d think it’s a good exercise. I was, something like 12 years old when I found out foreigners existed. My father was that kind of man.”

Adelheid pouted at Klaus. “But you don’t know how old the forest guy is?”

“No.”

“Welp,” Malwine sighed, putting on the saddest face she could manage without having to fake-cry. “Can’t we just go ask him?”

“I remain unsure as to whether you have been taught of the months,” Anna Franziska seemed to hesitate. “But currently, we are in the month of The Fire. Going outside would be unsafe.”

“It’d probably be fine,” Klaus countered. “This estate has wards, and terrifying ones, at that.”

“Wards or not, I am not taking children outside during The Fire, Klaus.”

“Why not? The sights build character.”

“This is why nobody likes you.”

“Maybe we should go back to our room,” Malwine said with a wistful sigh, her wobbly steps taking her closer to the stairs. “No one wants to help.”

“So mean,” Adelheid agreed. In her defense, she took the hint, walking instead of disappearing. “They don’t like us.”

“Oh, don’t start. I have a child your age,” Anna Franziska tsked. “I know how it is.”

Klaus shook his head sadly. “They’ve reached the cooperation phase—we may be doomed.”

“I literally took you all around the interior of the manor to meet people!” Anna Franziska seemed a bit more hurt by it than she’d initially shown, despite her comments. “Wait! Let me carry you!”

Malwine huffed. “We can walk.”

“None of that,” Anna Franziska all but swept her off her feet before beginning the climb herself. “You could hurt yourself or worse on those steps.”

“But it’s exercise! It’s good for me!”

“You’re four!”

Klaus’s voice was heard from behind them. “The child’s gone, by the way.”

Indeed, it seemed Adelheid had taken advantage of the moment to disappear. Malwine wasn’t worried—she suspected the girl would appear back in their room, once they were alone.

At least, she hoped that would be the case.

The former last-in-line was having the most woeful of days, and that had been before she heard.

Bernadette was rarely surprised, least of all by her staff.

They did not ask Bernadette for a word.

If she needed to speak with them, she would let them know—and she did, often.

But to actually request an audience with her?

There had been a time when she would have ignored the request for the brazenness alone.

Reprimanded the maid, even.

But she had grown to understand others had different thoughts on what constituted urgency.

Others’ thoughts on that were usually wrong, but they affected Bernadette nonetheless.

“What troubles you?”

Bernadette phrased it in such a matter to send a message—obviously, this maid would not be asking to speak with her on short notice without a good reason.

“The child, my lady.”

“What of her?”

Adelheid was an endless source of problems for Bernadette.

Not only would she have put her ancestors to shame with what she was born with alone, but the child had talent.

Yet she was unreachable. Uncooperative, ignoring her tutors and parents alike.

“The child appeared shortly after we started preparing for the third meal, accompanying your husband’s grandchild,” the maid swallowed—whether she did so out of hesitation or concern remained unclear. “She remained for close to an hour as we walked through the manor.”

“Why did you walk through the manor?”

“The eldest Rīsanin’s child has been expressing an interest in getting to know people’s names. It is bizarre, but I am sure you are aware of the quirks children can have at that age.”

“And?”

“She asked to be introduced to others, and I saw no reason to deny her, especially not with the child present. The child even seemed interested in what Beryl’s child was doing.”

“Children can be curious,” Bernadette conceded that much. She did not know her own younger daughter well, not with the girl’s unruliness, but it stood to reason some patterns would always be followed. “Is this what bothered you?”

“I am impressed, not bothered,” the maid admitted. “It was baffling at first, but the thought struck me soon enough—do you believe we should encourage this, my lady?”

“How so?”

“The child is a rarer sight than good harvest drops at low Luck. Yet still, she chose to accompany the girl. I believe encouraging the latter’s… quirks could serve to draw your child out more, if they grow closer.”

“I doubt they will—Adelheid cares for nothing and no one.”

“If I may, my lady—she has little reason to. She is powerful enough to warrant us all watching out for her, yes. But she is a child.”

“A child who cannot be educated, cannot be taught. She might as well have been born as talentless as I,” Bernadette could not help but bemoan it. “I had hopes for her once.”

“You may still. I mean what I say, my lady,” the maid insisted. “Perhaps that has been what your child was missing—interaction with someone at her level.”

“Beryl’s child is not at Adelheid’s level—nothing short of somehow convincing a noblewoman to let a child of theirs come here could get Adelheid a peer. Mortals and those with potential simply can’t understand each other enough for deep connections.”

It was an irksome fact of life—but a fact nonetheless.

The last-in-line knew that well, especially when it came to nobles.

It is almost amusing… How would you have felt, mother, had you known the last memory of your power would someday lie in my girl?

Worse yet, Bernadette was growing increasingly nettled at her staff choosing to give her parenting advice—advice for handling her own children!

She knew better than to listen to them now.

Perhaps she might have, once.

But for one, the outsider in their forests had been wrong.

Bernadette had tried to speak to Adelheid. She had made an earnest effort and then some more!

The girl had chosen not to cooperate. So what was her mother to do?

She would not neglect the girl, but she would no longer plan around her. No more!

Then again… while it wasn’t as though an outsider to the family could understand, perhaps Bernadette could still draw inspiration from those words.

“Fine… If they want to walk around the estate, entertain them. Assign someone to them and speak with Fastēn for material from the late mistress’s library. If the child can indeed be convinced to stick around, perhaps she may be taught, yet.”

“I see, my lady. I shall begin making preparations at once.”