The Weight of Legacy

The combination of [Learning by Reading] and its Aspect was truly a sight to behold, coming off as more formidable the more Malwine thought about it.

Access requirements and limitations—like knowing what book she was even trying to read—were waived. Similarly, [Remote Reading] only required that she knew the location of the eligible text.

As such, at no point had the Skill or Aspect stopped her from trying to read non-existent books all across the hall. Nothing would happen, but the lack of negative feedback was promising.

The whole 2x2 grid was—as far as Malwine could tell from her testing with this room’s own books—based on her impression of what 2x2 worth of tiles was, back on her Earth. Presumably, that was yet another carryover from her first life, like the fact that this explicitly applied to computer screens.

Malwine’s first—if abrupt—discovery was a simple one.

Apparently, she could not read book covers.

Oh, she tried, reaching outwards from the book she had—finally!—managed to reach, but it was, at best, blurry.

Of course, Malwine wouldn’t let this discourage her—even if she would have appreciated the books having the decency to state their title on the inside, at least.

Malwine couldn’t help but wonder if she might have found the library sooner had she been putting more effort into her search.

Still, this was undoubtedly a victory. Triple-checking to ensure Bernie hadn’t walked in while she’d been focusing, Malwine allowed herself to grin.

Adding a simple drop to the mixture, you’ll begin to see the effects almost—

That smile fell as soon as she started actually reading the book. Malwine would still insist she wasn’t the type to blush—in fact, in her past life, one of those unsolicited reports a DNA-matching site had once given her claimed, with high certainty, that she was unlikely to.

But new-life Malwine clearly lacked that blessing.

Bernie, just why? Why do you own this? Were you brewing this shit or was it just curiosity? If so, for either case, why?

And it was absolutely Bernie’s, given the label.

PROPERTY OF LADY BERNADETTE FON HŪDIJANIN

This was not how I expected to find out your fancy family name, Bernie.

Had the book been in her hands, Malwine might have tossed it as far as she could, but given this was [Remote Reading], all she could do was shut the connection down and try to reach for a different book.

Therein lay a weakness of the Aspect that Malwine hadn’t encountered before now—that margin of error was a double-edged sword.

Malwine was trying to reach unknown books, but her perception of where was being influenced by the book she was trying her hardest to ignore. Whichever other unknown books were here, were so close to it that the Aspect’s margin of error was redirecting her to the one book she had the misfortune of already knowing about.

She shifted her aim to around two feet beyond where she visualized this book being—and nothing happened. She bit her lip and refocused on the book for a second, then tried the same but in the opposite direction, where she knew the hall was.

As nothing happened, Malwine could guess that meant she’d indeed hit the hall again.

Just how small is this library? …Is this just Bernie’s nook?

The thought alone made Malwine consider quitting the endeavor altogether. Her guardian clearly had a side to her Malwine had neither known nor wanted to know of.

But giving up over a suspicious alchemy book would be silly at this point—even if she hoped to never find out what Bernie was doing reading such recipes.

Malwine ate breakfast absentmindedly, quite numb by now to how strange the green oatmeal tasted—it wasn’t bad, just not as sweet as she’d have expected.

Once she was alone with just Adelheid in a corner again, Malwine got back to her search. She fired off failed attempts through the hallway despite knowing the general location now, if only out of hope that she wouldn’t land on that book again. Using it as point of reference would only lead to a repeat of the incident.

This time, she didn’t get a hit on the forsaken book.

Malwine did a double take at what she found, the idea of finding something actually useful this early a shock. I don’t think [Learning by Reading]’s bonus applied here either since I didn’t actually browse texts, not really.

On having your Classes forged

Her priority was researching her options for Katrina's resurrection, really, but this would have to do—considering how 'Kristian and Katrina' was as far as their family tree went, Malwine also couldn’t discard the family had never been in a position where they needed to look into the topic, especially since OBeryl’s time had clearly passed.

That meant reading this book now that she had the chance to was the only course forward. Trying to land on another one might even carry the risk of misremembering where this one had been if she tried to revisit it later, or worse, it being moved.

Malwine mentally flipped the page, eager to find out what this book held in store, only for her heart to skip a beat as she came face to face with the most atrocious handwriting she’d seen since reincarnating. The fact that the syllabary was relatively elaborate made everything that much worse.

She could read the text, but it took so much back and forth, comparing the letters of clearer words to other messier ones, that lunch came by just around the time she was confident she could make sense of the first chapter alone, and the thing had five of those.

In a way, Malwine was thrilled. Slightly. It reminded her of finding a new records book, or of when a new scribe took over for the previous one. For all she might have understood the language and even the style, every time that happened, she had to relearn and challenge herself. She would have gone as far as to say that the more variation she saw and learned to get through, the easier the next one got.

The results, here, were debatable. It struck her then that most of her earlier reading had been comparatively curated—Bernie didn’t leave any borderline-illegible books in the girls’ room.

Your [The Plurilingual Psyche] Skill has improved! 25 → 26

Yeah, you better.

The chapter wasn’t long, and a considerable amount of the text was dedicated to praising some unnamed Prince that Malwine lacked the knowledge to identify, as well as various ‘local’ and ‘worldly’ noble houses. Given the book’s lack of a publication date, she doubted even history lessons would have clarified anything.

Once your liege has found you worthy of them forging a Class for you, prepare yourself, for this is no small feat. In their wisdom, many Bloodlines developed their own abilities to enable the forging of Classes for those the system deemed unfit for Affinities.

Considering her own ability to basically steal Affinities she’d failed to inherit—and the fact that her past, systemless life had apparently had one—Malwine didn’t believe that last part about Affinities for a second. If anything, she felt like the system liked to hand those out like candy.

It can’t just be me. I think.

True [Forgers] are few and far between, but most set to inherit a title are taught the requisite, secret Skills to forge Classes. While that means the one forging your Class might be your liege’s heir instead, you should treat them as deferentially as you would your liege while and after your Class is forged.

At no point did the chapter explain what a [Forger] was supposed to be, but even with the implication that it was related to the forging of Classes, it was… a curious choice of name for a Class category.

The author’s tendency to boot-lick the reader’s hypothetical liege made Malwine skip a few more paragraphs. She was beginning to doubt the worth of this text—given how it made it clear those who apparently needed others to forge their Classes were those without Affinities, the informational value this provided to her was dubious at best.

Then again, it might be good to know about it, in general, unless it’s ridiculously outdated. But would Bernie just keep old books laying around with hers? I don’t think she would.

Upon the doors being shut, understand you will not speak of the forging of Classes to any living soul, not even your own children, and should anyone learn of the details with you to blame for it, even your own children, you are to put them down on the spot so such precious knowledge does not grow to be known.

Malwine frowned. Someone out there was making a great effort to make it to the top of her shit list—she just didn’t know who yet. And while, yes, this didn’t apply to her, and yes, she was unlikely to actually do something about this, this clashed with her impression of her new world so far enough to make her uncomfortable.

Nobles that could get bullied off the premises by her grandfather were one thing, but actually deep-rooted things like these were very much not something Malwine wished to encounter, lest she get tempted to give anyone a piece of her mind once she grew stronger.

Shit, is that how Kristian became like this? Just got too big for people to tell him what to do and now he explodes chandeliers on arguments with noblewomen?

Depending on what your liege has planned, one or more Classes may be forged for you. You must remember your opinion here is not to be voiced, for only they know what is right for you. It is advisable that you dismiss any desires you had here. If what you wanted for your Classes was ever to amount to anything, you would not have been born without an Affinity.

Okay, seriously, does Kristian even have a liege? He strikes me as the type to resort to violence if someone were to tell him to do literally any of this. I don’t think someone could say any of this in front of him and walk away unscathed.

Her grandfather was married to Bernadette, who—to the surprise of no one—was apparently a Lady, but Malwine had had her suspicions about their status being somewhat muddled ever since Bernie had dragged the poor Lady Margreth to her fifteen minutes of fame as their governess. Not to mention, she’d overheard the estate’s staff tell that story far too many times for the imagined scene of Lady Margreth fleeing from a chandelier to leave her mind.

Yet Kristian clearly had Classes, where Bernie didn’t—that probably meant she hadn’t been the one to forge his. Bernie didn’t even have an Affinity.

Malwine wondered who this estate belonged to before the family got it—even if the system could seemingly just create things, some parts of it she’d glimpsed looked weathered. The cycle might have played a part in that, but she doubted it wasn’t at least some decades old.

As far as she knew, both Kristian and Katrina had been orphans, if what she’d since considered about that ‘school’ they’d been to was accurate.

And what happened to Bernie’s family name?

She’d have to ask those questions eventually—coming up with a way to ask without raising eyebrows would be the problem.

Malwine was already fairly certain she wouldn’t have avoided suspicion as well as she had were it not for the fact that Adelheid constantly stole the spotlight as far as strange behavior went.

Sighing, Malwine browsed the remaining pages in a rush, skimming at such speeds that she barely caught anything. The last page did, however, have something of note.

W…ten .y … 3.76

Malwine’s brief frustration at the washed-out authorship details was soon carried away by the relief that this was old and outdated.

So, 3076, 3176… anything all the way up to 3976?

It was harder to make out than it would have been with the alphabets she’d used in her past life, but Malwine was confident in her interpretation of that.

Even if [The Plurilingual Psyche] didn’t give her another level for the valiant effort.

She shook her head—the rest of the book had been in decent condition as far as text went, but of course that was the ruined part.

Not even going to ask how a 2k+ year-old book could be this well, either. It’s probably magic.

Steeling herself and promising she’d try to avoid being flippant at the book for at least a few minutes, Malwine moved back to the second chapter—maybe it wouldn’t be as irritating as the first!

That hope hadn’t been entirely misplaced—the frequency of the author’s asskissing had significantly diminished, but subtler parts of it remained. If they’d at least named whoever they were trying to get attention from, at least Malwine might have garnered some historical insights from it, but no, it was just vague mentions of noble houses and the different months they liked to perform Class forgings on.

It was slow work, embarrassingly so. Malwine thought she had grown decent at reading the language, but this had pushed her back. Only the fact that learning how to read manuscripts with the world’s worst cursive on her first life had been a learning experience kept her from being discouraged.

Dinner came and went, and thankfully, the book didn’t move—Malwine wondered if anyone even visited the mysterious book room, aside from Bernie. She doubted it had much traffic given a certain alchemy book being there, but for all she knew, Bernie might have kept some under lock and key.

The third chapter proved slightly more promising, though the details were hardly revolutionary.

If you are a courtier, chances are your liege has chosen to forge either a or Class for you, both if you are truly exceptional.

That section caught her attention soon enough.

You may find the courtier category reminiscent of how fell Courts work, but their kind lack Classes entirely, and as such, may never raise the attributes that would be tied to it. Most develop the Class of their Court by the time they grow into their permanent age and are often granted a Class by their own lieges, but they start off without having Classes at all, rather than possessing Unforged Classes, as the system understands they are not people as you and I are, and their creation of such Classes later in life is a perversion of the system.

The rare few among them develop Classes and form their kind’s elite, often being the only of their ilk to be seen by mortals, as others never leave their Courts. The weakest among them guard their lives even more fiercely than the rest, for they all lack souls and their death is final—always remember, they are not people, they merely put on the guise.

Returning to the topic of Classes such as the one you now have if you are a courtier, all three attributes within the category hold value. For those with Affinities, Circulation is the most important of attributes, for it not only increases their capacity to accrue [Toll] but speeds up the process of cultivating and absorbing enough mana to improve the stage of their core. All mortals are changed by mana and may channel it, but only those with Affinities can ever truly reach the Core Integration stage and walk the path to transcendence.

As such, you will never rank up beyond the hollow core the forged Classes have granted you, given the limitations imposed on mortals coming from families that never became worthwhile enough to attain Affinities.

Here they come with the posturing… Malwine pushed her grumbling aside to look back at the mention of Courts. Against all odds, the book had managed to provide her with information on Courts that was frankly far more useful—or at least, was frankly clearer—than Teach’s talk of the seablooded.

So whoever cursed me doesn’t have attributes at high levels, if they can train them at all.

It was almost funny, the idea of some seablooded fairy ironically having such a weakness, being limited in their circulation of mana. Then again, if the point of circulating mana was to cultivate and extend one’s lifespan, it might not be that big a blow to beings that—presumably—didn’t age past maturity, and [Toll] increased with time anyway. They’d just lack the advantage of being able to dump the points from leveling into Circulation.

Still, Perception and Adaptability were important, and unless they gained points on the attributes through more mundane means, there was truly no replacement there.

Mana changes us. That wasn’t surprising. A lot was different here, despite humanity being relatively similar to the one Malwine recalled, and it went without saying that attuning yourself to Mana Sources was bound to have an effect on you.

The confirmation merely made Malwine more conscious of that detail—how different were mortals without Affinities from the humans from her Earth? Was it just a matter of being systemless? Or was it something more?

She almost regretted she’d realistically never learn the answer to that—her old world was presumably distant, as much as she tried to avoid thinking about it.

Malwine wasn’t too fond of the author’s tone, either—not that she’d liked the person behind the book to begin with.

But death had been final on her Earth, too. From what she’d learned, these beings lacked a Class, which was probably related to them being soulless. Is this a chicken or egg situation?

Given the fact that they were apparently dangerously possessive over certain Affinities—Malwine had already made a note to avoid {Psyche}like the plague if she ever came across it, even if she could somehow get it—and the fact that they didn’t actually start off with any Classes at all, there had to be some core difference between the beings of the Courts and mortal humans. Or humans, in general.

Actually, doesn’t that make them weaker than humans? Something didn’t quite line up. They were clearly a threat if they could just dish out -99% curses, unless Beryl somehow managed to pick a fight with the strongest of the seablooded, and that was doubtful.

Just how reckless could Malwine’s new family be? Kristian had to take up most of the quota.

Tempted as she was to keep pondering on the nature of the seablooded, Malwine had grown tired, to the point [Remote Reading] grew sluggish.

As much as she feared the book would disappear overnight if she didn’t read all of it right now, Malwine let go of the Skill and Aspect, turning in for the night.

Her luck couldn’t possibly be that bad.