The Weight of Legacy

A year had passed since the family found Malwine in that shed—at least according to what Bernadette was telling Kristian, because it sure hadn’t been a year as far as Malwine was concerned.

Name: Malwine Rīsanin ⊛

Kind: Human

Inherent Aptitude: The Weight of Legacy | Inherent Flaw: The Fog of Lore

Age: 28 months (+1297)

Final Stage of the Early Esse | Level 42 (10+32+0*) [Banked levels: 10]

Lifetime Skill levels: 460 (+1253) (S)

It’s only been ten or so months! Granted, she did have no idea which day would actually be her birthday (monthday?), but the fact remained. Unless the cultivation level is actually slowing my aging?

For all she’d been trying to avoid revealing her eavesdropping, Malwine couldn’t resist. It was their fault for speaking on the doorway, anyway. “A year?”

Kristian opened his mouth, and Bernadette’s hand shifted from the door handle to his shoulder at record speeds. She nodded at Malwine. “Yes. A year.”

“What is a year?”

“Later, dear.”

“No. What is a year?”

Malwine wasn’t above having a staring contest with someone probably under a quarter of her own true age. Bernadette had treated her right, but for sanity’s sake, Malwine really needed to know.

“Not once has she seen the view from our gardens, Bernadette,” Kristian said with a frown, his gaze studying the nearby curtains. “I sincerely doubt she understands the cycles.”

Grandpa sounds surprisingly eloquent when he isn’t fighting maids.

“Cycle or year?”

Now, both grandfather and step-grandmother were looking at Malwine. She crossed her arms over her chest, having picked up on Adelheid’s mannerisms. If the real toddler got away with it, then so could she.

The two exchanged a glance—one Malwine really hoped was of confusion if nothing else—before Bernadette turned to face her. “Months are a…cycle. After The Rain comes The Wind. After The Wind come The Fields. There are…more. Every ten months make a year. I will tell you on the next lesson.”

It warmed Malwine’s heart to see Bernadette seemed as uncertain about which lessons should come at what age as she was. If Adelheid was her only child, and all Adelheid ever did was disappear…This poor woman.

Kristian’s reticence made sense to her as well—he probably had nothing to do with Beryl and her siblings growing up. How could he have time to personally raise his children when his talents lay in picking fights with what Malwine could only guess were exclusively non-combatants, and on his payroll on top of that?

Malwine’s puzzlement undoubtedly helped remove any doubts her insistence could have caused, too—this toddler was genuinely bewildered at the revelation. All she could do was nod, settling back in her bed as the adults took their conversation elsewhere.

Ten months?! A year is ten months? Are months longer then? Or is it literally just a ten-month year? She almost wished Bernadette were still in the room so she could ask about days next. Then again, asking this directly had been out of line enough with the image she’d been trying to paint of herself. She’d usually limit the question to obvious things, if only to learn new words.

By that logic, will I turn 3 in two months? Do I get free stuff in two months? No, Malwine, focus! Malwine closed her eyes to use [Meditation]. The Skill was certainly fond of its bottleneck, so she would take any excuse to try and get that 20th Skill level.

Was this ‘The Rain’ the first month? It wouldn’t have made any sense for Bernadette to just start off on a random month, unless it was perhaps the current month. Two panels were all she needed, but they were flickering behind her eyelids. I can't multitask two panels with [Meditation]? Malwine wouldn’t stand for that.

She reined in the Skill, shifting back to her initial method of visualization for channeling mana. The widow at the beach, reaching for the waves. That perfectly normal beach probably has to stay secret. With how much people cursed using them, Malwine knew the ‘waves’—whatever that meant, since they apparently also had months named wind and fields, of all things—might as well have been their equivalent of hell as far as she knew.

The widow avatar was something she had found herself flip-flopping on. At times, she was certain she no longer needed it—right up until she found herself in situations like these, needing it right back. Her imaginary hands rose atop the waves, two blank panels materializing in front of ‘her’. Keeping them in tentative existence strained her in a way she didn’t know possible, her ears thrumming.

Her avatar—and perhaps Malwine herself—grit her teeth, the letters all but pouring from the hands that faced the panels within her visualizations. On one, she simply listed the names of the months Bernadette had mentioned—on the other, she wrote the numbers 1 through 10, and filled the first three in while leaving the rest as question marks.

Malwine might have narrowed her avatar’s eyes.

I didn’t even actually need two separate panels for this, did I?

Your [Meditation] Skill has improved! 19 → 20

Your [Meditation] Skill has gained another 10 levels. No Aspect was developed.

Your [Write Anywhere] Skill has improved! 19 → 20

Your [Write Anywhere] Skill has gained another 10 levels. No Aspect was developed.

You have reached Level 46 [Banked levels: 10]!

Not sure if I’m madder about them leveling up now of all times, or them not getting an Aspect? Maybe I should be glad, might be for the best. Malwine summoned the two panels on the real world, awkwardly erasing the contents of the one that only listed the month names. Yeah, definitely for the best.

If [The Plurilingual Psyche]’s growth to level 22 hadn’t been entirely due to its new Aspect, Malwine figured the two other Skills now had at least some chance of continuing to grow, now that they were no longer bottlenecked. It’ll probably happen again at level 29, though. But future Malwine can deal with that.

She might have stared at the remaining panel for too long. Sleep wouldn’t claim her, so there was little else to do. She didn’t even know exactly what she felt about the revelation, of ten-month years. It mattered little. Probably. But she found her own acceptance of it a bit quick. Her confusion about the passage of time—persistent through the entirety of her second life so far—likely mounted on it.

Malwine wasn’t sure this affected her at all, yet still felt it should. Is literally anything I’ve previously learned affected by this?

It must have taken at least an hour of pondering—quite the showcase of how far Malwine’s attention span could go when she was too confused to think of anything else—but Malwine found her answer. It always comes back to the tree…

Is 50 years—50 of this world’s years—the limit for resurrections? Older-Beryl would have died what, a little over 50 years before I woke up? Just a month or so over it. Could she have been resurrected at 499 months from her death or would the line be drawn at exactly 500?

Speculation was a tricky path to go down. The difference in months-per-year had already caught her off-guard, so there was a high likelihood of her still lacking further details to make an accurate prediction.

It’s going to be one of those things, isn’t it? Malwine found herself all but having flashbacks about baptisms that listed children as X days or months old with no further detail. I swear, if I have to leave everything at estimates only…

Knowing she likely wouldn’t actually be dealing with any of these things anytime soon did little to calm her there. She could just see that future issue coming, even if she had no idea just how it would present itself.

With a sigh, Malwine tried to clear her mind. More important than having any form of crisis about months was the fact that she’d broken through on [Write Anywhere] by using it within her [Meditation]. Not only had both Skills leveled up from it after having been stuck at 19 for what felt like ages, but the panels she ‘wrote’ on with her imaginary avatar were actually created.

It really can write ANYWHERE, huh. Malwine wasn’t sure—yet—as to how far she might be able to push it, but the reality that the Skill did say she could use it on ‘anything non-living’ suddenly felt a bit ominous. If blank panels summoned by her imaginary avatar of the widow standing next to the beach counted for it…

There was also the fact that she’d just, outright used the Skill in a visualization. There was no denying that—she could use Skills while on [Meditation] and they could grow from it. She guessed it was probably related to how it had been what drove her to start the meditative session in the first place, and there were likely limits, but it was exciting.

Malwine had already used [Meditation] to all but build a Skill, when she’d gotten [The Plurilingual Psyche]. She supposed it made sense Skills could grow during [Meditation] too.

Are there any other Skills I would like right now? She truly didn’t know. Trying to come up with something in a rush could hurt her in the long term. Guess for now I’ll just push [Write Anywhere] while on [Meditation] to see how far I can get them both that way?

Bernadette showed up at some point after Malwine next woke up. Once breakfast—or what at least passed for breakfast—was done, Bernadette got right to explaining.

I guess I might not have been giving her enough credit…

"We can go over this as many times as you need me to," Bernadette knelt in front of her, pulling cards from their container. The set looked no different than playing cards in a tuck box, beyond it being quite thin and a bit too reflective.

Carefully, she placed ten cards in front of Malwine, all with illustrations and unreadable letters alike. "This should come later on our lessons, but you were interested. We will likely need to cover it again later once I have taught you these symbols."

Malwine gave her a swift nod, staring at the cards. Is this it? My chance to lure her into teaching me how to read already? She wasn't sure as to how to capitalize on it, but she felt she certainly could.

The images on the cards reminded Malwine of aquarelle in their style. Bernadette pointed to the first and named it. “The Rain.”

It was clear enough to Malwine as she further examined the image—the painting?—that it had been named that for a reason. Raindrops were pictured with deliberate accuracy, literal drops not proportional to the cloud above it.

She frowned. That actually didn’t look like a cloud. It was closer to waves, though it being a sloppy replica of clouds could have justified it. For all she wanted to ask for clarification, Malwine found she didn’t actually know the word for ‘cloud’.

Pointing at that which was above the raindrops, she tipped her head. “What is this?”

Bernadette made a bit of a face. Her mask of stoicness wasn’t as immaculate as Margreth’s had been—before Malwine had accidentally made the latter resort to violence, anyway. “Waves above.”

I—Wait, for real? Sneaking out to look at the sky shot up to her list of priorities for once Malwine could explore. “Waves?”

“The sea above us weeps during The Rain.”

Malwine was seriously torn beyond prodding further and just accepting that they referred to rain as the sea weeping. Then again, whatever had been going on out there on the only time she’d truly witnessed the outdoors—when Bernadette carried her away from the shed—had been something she’d never managed to parse, so for all she knew they were in fucking Atlantis or something.

“And after?”

Bernadette pointed to the next image. “The Wind.”

This one was almost exclusively squiggles she figured were meant to represent gusts of wind. Malwine noticed something about the words above the images then—they all started with the same symbol. ‘Month’ or just the ‘The’ she seems to keep emphasizing?

“The Wind cleans the land, takes what The Rain brought away.”

By now, Malwine figured she would simply nod along without interrupting unless she had a question. Bernadette seemed almost hesitant to be showing her this, but she didn’t stop.

A dark green field with bright blue above it. “The Fields. The only time of the year where straying off the path is harmless, and the only time in which the borders of the realm grow thin.”

Oh, no. Malwine thought back to what she’d seen through the path Bernadette took that day, and that memory explained far more than the innocuous image ever could. “The Flowers. Life blooms at our feet, and beasts aplenty are born with it.”

The next image was one of baskets. “The Harvest. From wilted flowers rise all manner of items—”

Is that like a seasonal loot drop? Wow. Might be the best season to explore in.

“—and the recently deceased remain where they fell until the crop is gone.”

Okay, maybe not the best season for exploring.

The next image held flames staggered like pine trees. “The Fire. All unwarded lands are set aflame, the sea’s influence burned alongside whatever wasn’t claimed.”

A card blank aside from its letters. “The Forgetting. As the lands move on, so must we. Any effects suffered from the months before fade from us, be they good or bad.”

A card surprisingly similar to that of The Wind, were it not for the white sparks dotted in. “The Cold. Our final warning that the year’s end is approaching, and all will soon repeat.”

Snowflakes in earnest. “The Snow. The lands freeze and to be touched by the snow is to join them in their fate.”

White puffs. “The Fog. Once the coldness is gone, travel is impossible, all lands covered in fog too thick to breathe or think through.”

Bernadette’s finger returned to The Rain’s card. “And so the cycle continues.”

All Malwine could do was nod. This seemed to be less about time being split into months and more about literal effects of the world itself. A blank panel hovered unseen by Bernadette, Malwine’s [Write Anywhere] taking notes with a fervor.

“Born in month…?”

“The Fire,” Bernadette said after a couple seconds. “The Fire of 5798.”

That detail was unsolicited, but Malwine welcomed it anyway. “You found me?”

“The Flowers of 5800. A year ago.”

“Thank you,” Malwine frowned trying to think of how to phrase this. “How do you know?”

“Sums,” Bernadette said. “Something for later.”

Malwine tried not to sigh. At least she had a list of month names now. She could probably figure the rest out on her own. Still, she tried. “1+1=2?”

“Oh. Have you been practicing your numbers on your own time?”

“Yes! Are you proud?”

Bernadette blinked. It took her a second longer than it should have to reply. “Of course.”

Malwine suppressed the urge to narrow her eyes and glare as Bernadette continued putting away the cards. No offer to teach her math came.

Before Bernadette could retrieve the last card, Malwine pointed at the symbols she found consistent through them. “‘The’?”

Her guardian seemed surprised. “Yes, Malwine.”

“Teach me?”

Bernadette touched the symbol she was pointing at. “Letters?”

“These,” Malwine repeated her pointing motion in case already knowing what letters were would be step too far.

“…Later,” Bernadette said, but at least she didn’t look particularly noncommittal. At least now Malwine had justification to pester her if she didn’t follow through.

And pester her, Malwine did. Beyond that, most waking moments whenever neither Bernadette or Adelheid were around went to practice. For all Malwine thought her knowledge of the language had grown, translating that into understanding the syllabary was an adventure on its own.

Even if no one brought her presents for her birthday.

Name: Malwine Rīsanin ⊛

Kind: Human

Inherent Aptitude: The Weight of Legacy | Inherent Flaw: The Fog of Lore

Age: 30 months (+1297)

Final Stage of the Early Esse | Level 46 (10+36+0*) [Banked levels: 10]

Lifetime Skill levels: 467 (+1253) (S)

Your [The Plurilingual Psyche] Skill has improved! 22 → 24

Your [Meditation] Skill has improved! 20 → 21

Your [Write Anywhere] Skill has improved! 20 → 22

At least she could read that booklet she had previously acquired. And only that. Bernadette brought others, but never left them. It was as good a time as any to redeem that last Skill.

You have gained [Learning by Reading]

No book or computer screen would be safe from your prying eyes should you wish to know of its contents. Access requirements and/or limitations for any text considered informational are waived. Likelihood of obtaining useful information increases the more texts you browse unsuccessfully. Only applies to the written languages.

Trait: None

Aspect: [Remote Reading]. So long as you know the location of an eligible text within a 2x2 grid margin of error, you may access it remotely at a sustained [Integrity] cost determined by your Resilience attribute.

[Learning by Reading] defaults to max level 50 but may never evolve!

You have reached Level 51 [Banked levels: 5]!

Amazing. Malwine sought the booklet in her inventory, only to find she could read it without even summoning it. The [Remote Reading] Aspect was hard at work, but she suspected this was only possible due to the Skill itself waiving limitations first.

She caught herself thinking she must have looked like quite the creepy child staring at nothing—no, she was a creepy child staring at nothing. Anyone who saw her would likely be concerned, even if Adelheid could probably give her a run for her money.

Her little aunt was as terrifying as she was fast, having netted her some 20 points to Speed before their races started having diminishing results.

And Adelheid still beat her. Easy when you don't have a -99% to deal with! Pfft!

But Malwine was getting sidetracked. Even now, she didn't have a clue as to how her current Resilience was affecting [Remote Reading], though the cost was absurdly low as it was. It seemed something like 1 [Integrity] every ten minutes or so, and that was acknowledging her time sense was wobbly. Feels close to that, though.

Malwine's [Meditation] went straight to the widow holding the inventoried book in her hands, closed. Just how [Remote Reading] could interact with it was frankly beyond her—but it worked.

Now, the hard part…

She'd multi-tasked panels not long ago. This was possible.

Focusing for a moment on how her visualization had to absolutely match real time, Malwine opened a blank panel, trying her best to pace her lowercase ‘L’ letters while counting. Only once she thought her imaginary hand could keep this… imaginary muscle memory, did she stop and clear the panel.

With that done, she rushed to the closed book with [Remote Reading], all while her quill-less left hand burned small letters onto the panel. She had grown used to ignoring [Toll] accrual notifications from a few failed attempts at cultivating, by now.

Malwine read and re-read the booklet's elementary lessons. Her [Integrity] dropped once. Twice.

She let go of [Remote Reading] and booklet visualization alike, her widow avatar turning her full attention to the panel and the tedious labor ahead.

Malwine counted. She might have had to restart the count an embarrassing amount of times as her thoughts threatened to stray, but she was certain there were roughly some 1270 tiny, tiny letters on the panel, or something like that. She doubted she could write so much in so little space without the assistance of [Write Anywhere].

Now she was sure it was costing her about 1 [Integrity] per ten minutes, though it was not exact. The panel cleared before vanishing.

An hour of reading like this would only cost me some 6 [Integrity]…Yet [Expressed Reversal] usage attempts alone cost 5?

Seriously, is [Expressed Reversal] too costly in terms of [Integrity]? I guess it's not as bad when [Identify] spares me from having to spam retries, but…has literally anything else burned [Integrity] that much? Eldritch curse text doesn't count.

Flat cost or not, Malwine was at a loss. It made no sense to her unless knowing other people's visible Status Effects was that powerful, and considering how few of those people seemed to have, she doubted it.

Malwine opened her eyes.

Your [Meditation] Skill has improved! 21 → 22

Your [Write Anywhere] Skill has improved! 22 → 23

Had she learned absolutely anything from this exercise? No idea. At least two Skills had grown from it, even if [Learning by Reading] couldn't.

I guess I did learn [Expressed Reversal]’s cost probably sucks…

With Kristian out on an alleged stroll, Bernadette found the mere act of sitting still unbearably difficult. Her husband was hiding something from her. Multiple somethings, in all likelihood.

Bernadette fiddled with the firestone, her Dexterity-turned-Acumen ensuring no sparks flew beyond her control.

It was warm.

It was reassuring.

It was fine.

She was fine.

She was alone.

Returning the firestone to inventory, Bernadette held the door only slightly ajar.

Her youngest and Beryl's child had become fast friends. Each worried her in their own way.

Adelheid seemed to want nothing more than to hide and watch them seek her. Little had worked to discourage the girl. Ignoring her carried far too much risk. Yet actually seeking her out seemed to only make her do it more and more.

Beryl's girl was just odd, quicker on the uptake than any child Bernadette had ever seen. Being around the girl meant being watched at all times.

The system spoke the truth always—otherwise, Bernadette would have doubted the girl's age. She'd flipped through one of her picture books without an ounce of hesitation. Now, she lay flat on her bed.

If Bernadette knew no better, she might have wondered if the girl was meditating.

She waited, and waited some more, but the child remained silent. Perhaps she had been asleep, but Bernadette doubted it. Her Perception-turned-Vigilance required active attention for a reason, its nuance greater than the undifferentiated attribute's.

Perhaps she should just let the girl be. And Adelheid as well.

Bernadette had an inkling that prodding too deeply could only end in disaster. For her, at least.

Being as aware of herself as she was of all else she focused on, she shut the door in utter silence, and all but glided off through the hall. Some things were simply meant to be left alone.