The Weight of Legacy

"Will the staff all be there?" Malwine asked. Given her company, it was mostly a rhetorical question—Hildegard was riding with the driver for some reason, leaving the three girls to sit alone on the carriage itself.

Franziska was napping. Several bumps in the road had already failed to make her reconsider that decision, all the while Adelheid was staring out the window.

The girl didn't turn to look at her older sister when she answered. "Probably?" Adelheid shrugged. "Hildegard says that weddings require guests, and it's not like Mother and Father know anyone else."

Malwine choked on a laugh before shaking her head. "There were some strangers at Matilda's party. I first saw Veit there, actually."

While her mood was still far from truly improved, a sufficient distraction had come in the form of an announcement.

Thekla was getting married.

As far as Malwine was concerned, her aunt's relationship was evolving too fast. Even if she'd been with Abelard for years now, this all felt sudden.

Marriages aren't really the norm around here, Malwine still recalled what Anna Franziska had told her. Meaning they might have felt pressured. But why?

Of course, she could also have just been reading too much into it. Maybe telling everyone they were expecting a child had just coincidentally motivated the couple to tie the knot.

Oh, whatever. I'm just annoyed I'm going to have to restructure my tree somehow. And I still want to dream of somehow adding pictures to it someday.

Her priorities were still on point, as always.

The carriage hit another bump on the road then. Adelheid's shadowy seatbelts kept then in place.

I swear reaching Beuzaheim on foot with the double didn't take me as long as this. Malwine had needed to pace herself because of her limited [Toll], though. That might have affected her perception of it—not that it would keep her from being annoyed.

Adelheid seemed genuinely interested in the sights, so Malwine had done her best to not disturb her too much, but that made the trip all the more boring. There wasn't much she could do discreetly here.

I wonder if anyone's considered we're just expanding her repertoire of teleport locations as we go. Knowing Hildegard, it could very well have been intentional. The old butler might have raised Bernie, but their disagreements clearly ran deep, enough that Hildegard seemed to take anything Bernie prohibited as a suggestion.

And Bernie never stopped her. Interesting.

It was probably just an authority figure thing, but Malwine liked to imagine Hildegard was a force to be reckoned with.

Anselm still hadn't gotten back to her about Benedikt—she could only hope her uncle wouldn't spend as much time 'researching' as Veit had the last time she'd asked for something.

Yawning, Malwine moved to rest her head upon her fist. Unlike the mortal girl with them, she didn't fancy trying to sleep and inevitably waking up with a jolt—that left staring. Lots and lots of staring.

At least Adelheid seemed to be enjoying seeing the outside world.

Within the actual interior of Beuzaheim, roads that could comfortably fit carriages were sparse enough that they'd need to go the rest of the way to the store on foot. Malwine loved walkable cities as much as the next guy, but child legs were not particularly compatible with her preferred walking pace.

Being here as herself instead of as Kunegunda, though… It just hit differently. Everything was understandably more real to her senses, making everything she'd ever experienced through her double feel painfully dull in comparison. Even something as mundane as walking across paths of cobblestone, trying her best not to kick up any tiny loose rocks strewn about—because there were always some of those.

Granted, being so small made things ever so slightly weird. She'd walked through some of these streets before, yet her real height was giving her a different… perspective.

Was it absurd to consider Beuzaheim felt all the more alive when viewed this way? Absolutely. But finally viewing it in person—taking in a deep breath that left her wondering just why this city smelled like menthol—had to be a milestone of some kind, even if Hildegard was rushing the girls to get going.

The old butler's entire demeanor had shifted the moment they'd exited the carriage. She'd been waiting by the door for them, always looking over her shoulder. As they walked through the city, she made no effort to hide her vigilance, looking at everything from benches to bins as if a monster were about to jump out from behind them.

Franziska and Adelheid spoke in hushed tones, their glee palpable. For her part, Malwine simply smiled. It felt good to see her little sister happy—Devils knew the girl deserved at least that much. While she'd never felt close to the mortal girl, it was nice that she was enjoying herself as well, especially since Adelheid cared for Franziska.

It was unexpected, but by now, Malwine had somewhat accepted this was a classmate of hers. It was far from a strong attachment, but decades from now, if the three of them felt like hosting a class reunion or something, Malwine wouldn't skip out on it.

A few passersby gave them odd looks, though most of them were directed at Hildegard. People generally gave the group a wide berth as they walked in the opposite direction, with a curious glance or two going over the girls themselves. They might as well have been having the time of their lives, all the while the old woman escorting them looked ready to jump someone.

"Where are we going?" Adelheid asked. Seeing as Hildegard had been vague as to just which stores they would be visiting, it was a valid question, but the old butler placed a finger to her mouth and shushed her.

Why is she this paranoid? It wasn't as if people in Beuzaheim didn't know Bernie existed. Some form of concern over their safety, given what happened to Bernie's family, was the only reason Malwine could think of as to why Hildegard would be worried. While she was technically the Rīsan butler now, it wasn't as if anyone even saw her around much—the job description might as well have been incidental when it came to Kristian's side of the household. Unless it is about Kristian's reputation?

Then again, who'd hold that against an employee, or random children? People probably pitied them.

Malwine could hardly believe it—she might have found an old lady who'd beat the widow when it came to potentially unfounded concerns.

At last, Hildegard slowed down, approaching a wooden door. Washed-out signs hung from the walls out in front, leaving the store otherwise unmarked. An assortment of items had been left out before a foggy window—boxes, indeterminate pieces of ceramic, and various potted plants.

The door opened before the old butler had even knocked, and a woman wearing what appeared to be a short kaftan with delicate prints motioned for them to enter. She was on the younger side—at least as far as someone could be in a world where aging could be slowed or halted—looking no older than perhaps forty. "Hildegard, dear. It's been too long."

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As they entered, Malwine almost stumbled, barely straightening in time to sit down on the chair that awaited the girls. Something gnawed at the back of her mind, like distant tickling. It wasn't the deep-rooted worry of [Unpacifiable] being triggered, so it took her a moment longer to place it.

The woman had an odd air to her, as if her surroundings were sizzling with heat, warping almost imperceptibly with each of her movements.

An Affinity? Obviously, her little sister couldn't possibly have been the only person out here with power. Just because such things were almost nonexistent within their family—apparently thanks to Katrina—didn't meant everyone in Beuzaheim would actually just be mortal.

That was as far as she could determine anything, though. With her ability to sense Affinities being limited by her own understanding, she couldn't simply know what this was without having experienced it before.

"I have been woefully busy, Ximena," Hildegard told the other woman. "But as I said in my letter, some things simply cannot be helped. I will ensure this event goes as planned—or it will not happen at all."

Well, that's ominous, Malwine raised an eyebrow, smoothing her features a moment later. For her part, Adelheid clearly had no qualms about glaring, all the while Franziska looked on in confusion, as always. This poor actual child.

"I know—I correspond with Sybrandt on the regular, still. He assures me he will send one of his over, to officiate," Ximena said—that seemed to pacify the old butler well enough, all the while Malwine just nodded along the confirmation that marriages in this world still had officiants of some sort. "Now, now. What do you need for the girls?"

Oh, right. That reminder was enough to shake Malwine out of her culture-related ruminations. The only reason Bernie had even agreed to let them go out was because—allegedly—none of them owned anything appropriate to wear for Thekla and Abelard's wedding. I bet if someone would give me my onesie back, the upgraded version would do just fine.

"Simple dresses appropriate for their age would do well enough. Bernadette's daughter—" Hildegard waved in Adelheid's direction, getting an even more intense glare in response, "—enjoys hiding in the shadows, if my meaning does not elude you. Something befitting that would be the only real requirement, and the budget does not concern me."

Malwine tried not to pout—if she had her say, she would take the chance to grab whichever option most closely resembled the concept of judgmental old ladies.

"Very well," Ximena nodded. "We should be done within the hour. There are refreshments near the window."

That tray of pastries had most definitely not been sitting there when they'd walked in. Malwine narrowed her eyes.

"Follow, dears. I need to see which adjustments might be necessary, if you pick any of what I have. This old coot over here just made a mistake, though," she flashed them a conspiratorial grin. "I can always make something custom if that interests you."

Hildegard choked on whichever drink she'd just picked up, but the girls were led to another room before she could actually say anything.

Malwine heard Franziska gasp. Her own eyes simply widened. While far from large, the room was tightly packed with dresses and other pieces of clothes, all sheathed by something that shimmered. Three rows from floor to ceiling, looking like if one piece were to be pulled out, it might never fit back in. All of them looked relatively small, making her wonder if this was a room full of child-sized dresses, specifically.

At the center, a small platform stood facing a mirror, with a small cart next to it.

Hands clasped, Ximena grinned at them. "Who wants to go first?"

Malwine turned to Franziska, speaking in a whisper. "I'm scared."

The girl gave her a glance—she was surprisingly empathetic for a child, not that Malwine's experience with those was vast. By now, she'd just accepted the likelihood that the widow relied on nannies as fact. "Want me to go first?"

"Thank you!"

Having convinced the mortal girl to offer herself up as a sacrifice, Malwine watched on. Her own little sister's eyes never left her friend—Adelheid still looked like she was trying to see if she could burn a hole through the seamstress just by glaring.

"Good, very good. What's your name, dear?"

"Franziska."

"Hm. That's a beautiful name, Franziska. Do you have a favorite color for clothes?"

"Uh…" The girl looked stumped, and Malwine couldn't exactly blame her. While she knew the staff were somewhat overpaid by this world's standards, they did spent most of the year cooped up at the estate. It hadn't quite occurred to her that the staff and their families might really not have that much free time to go shopping or the like.

Anna Franziska is the real winner here, isn't she? Not only was her daughter getting to tag along for an education meant for a cultivator, but this wasn't even the first time she got free stuff just because Adelheid refused to leave her behind. Normally, it was just the supplies that Hildegard brought along, but a dress from some potentially fancy seamstress probably wouldn't come cheap. And this store looks like shit from the outside—she has to be relevant enough to not care to draw people in.

Malwine's musings on this seamstress with an Affinity were cut short as Franziska pointed to one of the dresses on the wall. "That orange?"

"Peach? That suits you well indeed, dear," Ximena nodded with a smile. "We can start with that one, in fact."

And with a snap of her fingers, the shimmering cover was left empty, as Franziska's reflection shifted. While her real self was untouched, the version of her in the mirror was now wearing a dress that reached past her knees, a layered thing of various peachy hues. Its sleeves were long and loose past the elbow, the neckline collared with rounded edges. As for the dress's skirt itself, the underlayer looked vaguely silky, while something reminiscent of chiffon—which matched the sleeves—covered it. The gradient of it got lighter as it descended, and a ribbon was the only part vaguely resembling a waistline. It was more casual than Malwine would have expected, yet she wasn't about to deny it looked pretty.

"Oh! Can I have it?" Franziska shifted around, her glee visibly growing as it became clear that her own movements affected the dress in her reflection. She hadn't batted an eye at the casual display—then again, she basically lived with Adelheid. Ambiguously magical things probably paled in comparison to that.

"Of course—that is why that old coot brought you here," Ximena nodded. "But are you sure you do not wish to try anything else? I have many options in this color."

Malwine didn't doubt that was true—even just trying to count the other peach dresses she saw in this room nearly gave her a headache.

"No! I love this one," Franziska hugged herself, smiling at what she saw in the mirror. She did seem somewhat miffed once Ximena snapped her fingers again with a nod. She reached for the dress—which had returned to its original location, now once again covered by that protective thing—and handed it to Franziska, looking serious all of a sudden. "Take good care of it—it will serve you well."

That sounded a bit too formal to be spoken of a dress, and Malwine had to keep herself from joining Adelheid in her staring contest. Were non-system-made magical clothes a thing? That was probably exactly how someone selling magical clothes would sound like when giving them to someone.

"Who's next?" Ximena extended a hand towards the platform as Franziska scurried off to Adelheid's side, practically hugging her new dress. At some point, the dress seemed to have shifted slightly, now being a perfect match to Franziska instead of the bulkier version that had hung among the others initially.

I had this coming, didn't I? Malwine tried not to grumble as she stepped forward. Seeing as Adelheid was clearly unhappy about this turn of events—though Malwine had yet to figure out just what had set her little sister off—there wasn't really another option. For all she'd shoved Franziska forward, now it was her turn to try dresses out.

She was reserving her opinions on Ximena's methods for after she experienced them herself, but the widow had been fond of fashion, to an extent. Certainly, that fondness was limited to raiding stores on the regular then combining whichever pieces she thought fit together into outfits of dubious fashionability, but she was pretty sure it still counted.

Stepping onto the platform, she felt a shiver run through her body. Through her shoes, she could feel just how cold the floor beneath her was. It was far from unpleasant, but jarring enough that it felt as though she had just stepped elsewhere.

"And who would you be, dear?" Ximena asked, once again falling back to that pose of hers, hands clasped. It seemed somewhat practiced, but fluid nonetheless.

"Malwine Rīsanin," she said her full name in case that mattered when speaking to mysterious seamstresses—if there was anything her interactions with Veit had taught her, it was that there would absolutely be interesting people in all sorts of jobs, and she'd be a full to dismiss that. Besides, Ximena was clearly in touch with Hildegard. There was no way she didn't already have at least a general idea of who they were.

"Very well! Do you have a favorite color?" Ximena asked, the subtle shifts in her smile continuing. "And do you have a any need for a less mundane option? Adjustments of the source are effortless, and I know Old Hildegard has been teaching you girls. You never know what you might benefit from. With how young you are, you would outgrow anything I can provide, but some things might be worthwhile in the short term."

Malwine gaped at her. The question had caught her off-guard enough that her mind was racing. Could this woman tell, just as easily as Malwine had noticed her in turn? The question genuinely did not sound malicious, for all it felt like a whisper. She may very well have been offering because a friend or at least long-term acquaintance of hers had asked her to help the girls out—it might be a simple as that.

Questioning Ximena's motives fell to the back of her mind in the next instant, though.

The tiny problem of the woman not having spoken that part aloud took precedence to that.