The Weight of Legacy

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

The sight of Bernie completely abandoning decorum to rush into the kitchen was far more amusing than it had any right to be. Malwine simply continued stirring the rice while her two classmates watched on, with Hildegard moving to block her guardian’s path. The old woman was almost as nimble as Malwine’s grandfather, all things considered.

She’d yet to figure out how their ages compared, but she’d find out someday.

“We are practicing cooking—there is no use in having so many Skills when one would starve if left unattended. Rice is a good starter plate for beginners, and I’ve ensured all safety measures are in place. Not to mention, it’s all being done under my watchful eye… or it was.”

“They are children! They should not be learning this!”

Over the past years, that carefully tailored image Bernie presented had unraveled more and more with every opinion she voiced. Did she have the appearance of a prim and proper lady? Certainly.

But—much to Malwine’s chagrin—it turned out that a lot of Bernie’s beliefs were dumb at best and offensive at worst.

“I learned this and more when I was their age, dear.”

“Please,” Bernie all but hissed out, moving towards her daughter while the former butler kept blocking her path. “You know what I mean! We have people for that, and save for the girl, my child and ward are gentlew—”

“Wave take me, you sound like your husband. Potentially worse,” Hildegard wasn’t facing them, but her tone would have been well-complimented by an eyeroll. “Our situation has changed. Make no mistake, I mourn the loss of your status, but adapting is a necessary part of life. I raised you better than this.”

“Did you? What good does any of that do now when you couldn’t even keep me safe?”

Hildegard stiffened.

Holy shit, Bernie, that’s low. She might not have understood the depths of their relationship, and everything she knew about the Hūdijans came filtered through Adelheid’s retelling of the butler’s tale, but that had to be one step too far.

Even Bernie herself seemed to realize that, her entire demeanor changing as she took a step back. “I apologize—that was uncalled for.”

With the way she eyed the girls, it was clear she still had things to say about their current lesson, but she’d dived headfirst into a wall as far as this discussion went.

Malwine, for her part, took the chance to slip some extra butter into the pot while Hildegard wasn’t looking. That rice would have been dry as hell otherwise. As her little sister wordlessly handed her a packet of additional spices, Malwine sniffed them and added some as well.

It wasn’t the garlic butter rice the widow liked to order on the weekends, but it would be surprisingly close. I would absolutely kill for some garlic cloves right now.

Bernie’s outburst aside, this had been a great lesson. And by the time the butler noticed, it would be too late to stop her!

“Why are you stirring it so much?” Franziska asked.

Malwine kept her eyes on the pot. Some type of ward was keeping the heat away from them, and unfortunately, she was deprived of what had to be some delicious-smelling steam. “To make sure everything comes together well.”

She’d never pretended to be great at explaining things—besides, the widow rarely cooked.

“Oh!” Franziska accepted the answer nonetheless.

Adelheid’s hand hovered above the pot, and she met Malwine’s gaze before whispering a question. “Should I break it?”

“No,” Malwine shook her head. As much as she liked to complain about not getting the full cooking experience here, she understood safety had to come first. They were still toddlers as far as she was concerned, even if this world’s choice of calendar would have them labeled children by now.

Her little sister nodded back, lowering her hand. In the time it had taken her to speak to the other two, Bernie had turned on her heels and practically fled.

Hildegard approached her students without a word then, her expression unreadable until the moment she scrunched up her nose. “What have you done?”

Adelheid waved an empty cloth package around. “Seasoning!”

“Let me see that,” the butler lifted the wooden spoon she’d set aside, serving herself a dollop of rice before motioning with her fingers, examining it closely.

If it turned out this woman was using some type of poison-detecting ability on Malwine’s cooking, she was going to flip.

Whatever result she got appeared satisfying enough, as she proceeded to eat the rice in one bite.

“Hm, good,” Hildegard raised an eyebrow, lowering the spoon. “You three have exceeded my expectations.”

Malwine did her best to squash all feelings of smugness as her two companions beamed. This had been an excellent lesson, even if it was their first time in the kitchen. …Officially. But if no one’s seen me or Adelheid sneak in here, then it never happened.

Hildegard turned to Franziska. “Had your mother taught you about this before?”

The girl nodded, making Malwine feel slightly less like a cheater. Franziska might have been at a disadvantage, being mortal, but that had never truly felt relevant in their lessons.

Then again, Franziska’s the only one of us whose parents seem involved in her education… Actually, if I put it that way, it all sounds terrible.

Malwine wasn’t sure how she felt about Anna Franziska returning to her kitchen maid duties—she’d made a decent enough teacher. She had remained a relatively present figure in their lessons nonetheless, occasionally showing up to bring Hildegard materials.

And in today’s case, clearing out the kitchen despite the protests of the staff so the girls could cook under Hildegard’s supervision.

The maid herself popped up, cracking the back door open. “Is it done?”

“It is,” Hildegard confirmed. She did seem to be proud enough of their minor achievement. “We’ll return to the schoolroom shortly—I leave the rest of this in your capable hands.”

Are they going to tell anyone we helped cook today? Bernie would certainly know, at the very least. There was something amusing about the idea of her family unknowingly eating something cooked by seven-year-olds, but Malwine figured it was unlikely. Someone was bound to tell them, for better or worse.

Franziska hummed audibly as they began to walk back to the rooms Hildegard had refurnished for the sake of their schooling. At Level 10, the girl remained a relatively normal person in her eyes.

Unlike us.

Between her imbalance and holding out for those Forger Skills Veit was definitely going to show up with today, Malwine’s personal progress had been depressing. She’d been Level 73 by the time she got to be 73 months old, and that had to count for something—only when compared to her earlier growth did that feel underwhelming. She’d only gotten one more level since.

Adelheid still lagged behind her in that aspect, but at Level 45, she was better off than Alaric had been when Malwine met him, and he’d been like 11 at the time. Her Skills were all a mixed bag, but above all, Malwine found she had yet to emotionally recover from Adelheid getting herself a <Word> Skill named [Hiddenness].

And that was before getting into her little sister’s <Mind> Skills. She was pretty sure Hildegard had been holding back tears when Adelheid read them out.

Once they’d settled down in their schoolroom, Hildegard paid their individual desks a visit. “Adelheid, work on meditating again,” she placed an hourglass on the desk after flipping it. “There’s plenty of time left in the day!”

“But I already meditated today!”

Hildegard shook her head with exaggerated sadness. “And your Skill still isn’t at 20—you need to keep going if you want it to have a fighting chance.”

Franziska was handed a coloring book while Adelheid continued to grumble.

Once it was Malwine’s turn, the former butler lingered in front of her desk. “No new Skills?”

“Nope!”

She’d fessed up to heavily simplified versions of a few of her <Mind> Skills—continuing to pretend to be at the Early Esse had been a tempting idea, but it hadn’t taken long for her to realize she was actively shooting herself in the foot by trying to stay at Franziska’s level.

It was a fine balance, trying to convince their teacher that she had some abilities that needed nurturing without outing herself, but it’d worked out relatively well so far.

“[Multitasking] is still at 36?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll work on that today, then.”

How everyone kept pulling brand new Sir Heinrich books out of thin air was beyond Malwine. She’d figured that series had to be popular with children, certainly, but not once had there been a repeated volume for her to read.

It was borderline concerning.

Malwine flipped the book open, still ever so unused to reading with her own two eyes. She’d spent far too much time using [Remote Reading] throughout the years, and she couldn’t quite deny she was slow at doing this manually.

“Two plus two.”

“Four.”

From the side, Adelheid complained. “I can’t meditate with you counting!”

“Part of [Meditation] is tuning the world out,” Hildegard didn’t even bother looking up. “Ten by ten.”

“A hundred.”

Their exchange continued as Malwine flipped the pages. This was the type of exercise she would most definitely not have considered leveling the Skill with—then again, it required somebody else to be involved. She could have gotten Adelheid’s help, probably, but there was little use in imagining that now.

Hildegard’s ability to come up with leveling methods was impressive enough that Malwine almost regretted hiding so much from her. Almost. The woman might have been able to figure out a way past her bottlenecks, but telling her more would have been an unnecessary risk.

Still, it was undeniable that the <Mind> Skills she’d shared had grown considerably.