The Weight of Legacy

She held the piece of cardstock paper between the tips of her index finger and her thumb, unwilling to grasp it in full. Whether it was to avoid risking any of the foil being ruined by her touch or because the courier had acted as if this piece of paper was valuable in its entirety, she knew not. Munnehilde simply wasn't blind to the likelihood of this being something Otto would like to receive intact—if at all.

You are hereby invited to attend the wedding of
Thekla Rīsan & Abelard Lange
To be held within the boundaries of the Rīsan Family Estate, Beuzaheim Outskirts
The Cold of 5806

What am I to do with this? The obvious answer was, of course, that she should do her best to keep it in good condition until her lover awoke. While the courier had insisted this was to be hand-delivered to Otto Rīsan, he had been quite clear about how he was not to be disturbed by strangers outside of his working hours—and especially not when he was resting.

That had left Munnehilde with few options. She might have been able stall—or better yet, alter the courier's perception so she could leave him standing there without having to entertain him—but ultimately, the utilitarian side of her mind won out. The path of least resistance was to simply pretend to be him and accept the invitation in his place, avoiding any actions that may lead to further ramifications.

Whether this had been the right choice was something she had yet to determine, as the courier watched 'Otto' examine the invitation that had been handed to 'him'. Munnehilde was quite adept at accepting deliveries and correspondence, as well as sending it. She knew this because she had yet to receive any complaints.

"I am grateful to see this delivered to me," Munnehilde offered in a neutral tone. It was an acceptable response as far as she was concerned, carrying with it the right amount of thankfulness expected when receiving something while also careful to avoid expressing anything that might impact the courier's opinion of her reaction.

She would have to research what the expectations for weddings were, as soon as she got the chance to. Regardless of whether Otto chose to attend or not, this kind of knowledge would likely be useful to have in case it ever happened again. How frequent were wedding invitations received by people? This had been the first time she got one—one that was meant for Otto—in her upwards of thirty cycles alike. Situations like these where exactly what she needed to be prepared for, to avoid being caught off-guard. The types of gatherings that followed rules that were foreign to her—that much, she knew.

"Rīsan ambaht?"

The courier called out. Munnehilde, in her Otto guise, did not allow her visage to betray her surprise—her thoughts had slipped long past their interaction, and she had all but assumed the courier would take her last reply as dismissal. She almost waved him off with a flick of her Will before thinking better of it—that would not be socially acceptable here, would it? She settled for a neutral question, raising a non-existent eyebrow—damned be Otto for never wanting to get that unexplained hair loss examined. "Yes?"

"Your response? I was told to wait for one," the courier explained, fiddling. Her extensive studies of journals kept by people who were convinced they understood body language had her interpreting this as a potential sign of discomfort or impatience. Furthermore, either could be attributed to how she was making him wait.

Understandable. Munnehilde did not like being here anymore than he did. "You can tell them I appreciate the invitation?"

"So you are not attending?"

That, Munnehilde could not confirm, raising a hand as her head shook. If the expected response was a yes or no—a confirmation of whether or not Otto would attend the wedding—this was not something she could actually answer. Choosing either path would mean either committing him to something he may not wish to partake in—leading to further potential problems down the line if he wanted to skip out on it—or denying him a chance to go to an event that might interest him. The latter would, of course, sow the seeds of problems as well.

To give the courier an answer, she would have to consult Otto.

Of course, this was not an excuse she could give to the man who thought Otto was currently standing in front of him.

Feigning stress, Munnehilde pursed her lips. Her initial instinct was to say she needed to consult this, but with whom would Otto consult that? She doubted anyone involved with his family knew of her, so the thought would never arise in them. A simpler excuse came to mind. "I did not say that. Please, allow me a moment to check my calendar. I may yet be available," she said as a compromise, gently guiding the man further into the Peregrine Wheels' foyer with a thought. "Myriam?"

The cook wasted no time peeking out from the archway that led to the kitchen—the sect's floorplan was fairly open, and Munnehilde knew every single member who had the chance to must have been eavesdropping, ready to laugh at the courier's expense at a moment's notice if he ran afoul of Munnehilde. "Yes, ambaht?"

Their people were more than used to not knowing which of their leaders they were dealing with, so the ambiguous choice of address did not faze her. "This gentleman was so kind as to deliver an invitation to me, but I must check my calendar to know whether attending is plausible."

Myriam gave her the kind of knowing look only someone who knew Otto would sooner discover some previously unknown temporal Affinity than willingly own a calendar could, nodding with a smile as her gaze turned to the courier. "Of course! Come along, dear. Do you have any food allergies?"

Leaving the man to be dragged away by the overeager woman, Munnehilde headed for the stairs, all but gliding on her way up as she sought the master bedroom. Otto had installed two new sets of curtains near the start of the month, insisting what they already had just failed to keep Haldenhwīlō's light outside, where it belonged. He had been complaining less about it ever since, but Munnehilde's satisfaction at seeing him treat curtains as a child might treat a new toy only made her intended course of action bother her even more.

She stopped just short of the door, choosing to lean back against the wall. Myriam could keep people trapped in the kitchen for days on end—a few more minutes or hours wouldn't bother her. Otto needed the rest, especially with the increase to their nightly activities ever since they took over Steyg's territory—they had far too much information to analyze overnight and not enough time to sleep.

Left with little else to do, Munnehilde examined the invitation again, allowing her disguise to slip as a side thought. Otto's second-oldest sister was presumably responsible for it. How she kept finding him in order to send anything was beyond them, as she'd also been the one to inform him of the situation with their missing eldest. Otto complained about the mundanity of his relatives and the flaws of their dynamics often enough—not that Munnehilde understood any of it—but his inability to identify any ability of hers that could make this possible was bothersome.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

With the complicated look her lover had given her the last time Munnehilde accused him of looking down upon—or at least underestimating—his siblings, she hesitated to touch that topic again. She might have been unable to truly grasp the complexities of how he felt about the matter, but that didn't mean she was willing to risk causing him discomfort by speaking of this.

People generally avoided social or emotional pain in the same sense one who had tried to touch a flame would after being burned—they had an awareness of the damage that may follow, and knew to steer clear for self-preserving reasons.

Why was her affine sister getting married? Marriage was something people did for serious relationships, that much Munnehilde understood. An alliance, or a deal for what their descendants would get. It was not common in Grēdôcava, but that kind of arrangement had been explained to her even before she went out into the world.

The family name Lange was distantly familiar to her, being the type she believed originated from around the border with Lizaną, but it was not once had it come up in her discussions with Otto. So why was it familiar?

Who was this person? While Otto remained asleep and unaware, Munnehilde knew how his thought process usually went—knew it thoroughly. He would be curious as to just who his sister meant to share assets with, even if it would be difficult to know just why without additional information.

Munnehilde moved the requisite muscles to mimic a natural smile, meaning it. This was a perfectly suitable topic to spend her time investigating while she waited for Otto to awake.

Steyg's records were far from organized, but the man's catalogue was considerable. The depths of it couldn't be dismissed simply because the spymaster had been unlikely to even know he owned every single file he had here. Boxes aplenty were caked in dust, while others had been neglected, already experiencing decay despite the basic preservation enchantments all rooms used for storing documents should have. The oversight was almost offensive.

Munnehilde pursed her lips to blow air in the direction of the book she meant to open—to her disappointment, the act was nowhere near as effective as she'd been led to believed it would be. Her disappointment would have been palpable, had there been any witnesses present.

She had no choice but to settle for a nearby piece of cloth. Considering its location, she supposed it would be safe to use for this. Slapping the book cover with it a few times, she watched much of the dust fly off—it was working well enough. Pleased, Munnehilde cleaned the sides of the book far more carefully before opening it.

This index had clearly not been updated in a while—her curiosity was undeniable. Who had kept track of Steyg's possessions? Had it been his brother? Or some assistant? Examining the memories she'd gotten from the former spymaster, Munnehilde nodded along. Indeed, he used to have an assistant, a woman named Helga. Details of her retirement or dismissal seemed unclear—it had happened decades ago, and even for Steyg, the memories of that disagreement would have been vague by now.

There. Halfway through the tome, Munnehilde got what she needed—a list of the records Steyg kept about foreigners. Certainly, not all volumes would be listed here, but confirmation of where they were supposed to be was all she needed. That, and the knowledge that they were sorted by timeframe, in any case.

Thekla Rīsanin should have been barely into her early 30s by now. If one was to assume there'd be no less than a decade between her and her prospective spouse, Lange had to be 40 at most. He also couldn't be younger than 22, if he was to be wed… That left Munnehilde to look for a foreigner—potentially Lizanąn—who must have arrived no later than 5787, assuming he had not been brought over as a child. Her understanding of that aspect of society was limited, mostly because it made no sense, but immigrants to Grēdôcava were rarely parents with children. It was almost always young people striking out on their own—a trend she would not complain about, as it helped her fit in under her usual cover.

Roughly nineteen years to go through, then—once Munnehilde found the right tomes, that was. The index only helped so much, seeing as the diagram upon it barely amounted to a croquis, no matter if its maker had sought to make it work as a map. What was the purpose of assigning labels to different shelves if one needed a map to find each shelf anyway?

It took her between fifteen and sixteen minutes to find the most recent of them, one Steyg had presumably been adding to since around 5779. The first entry on the table within confirmed as much—specifically, it listed a foreigner of unknown provenance who passed through Haldenhwīlō during The Winds of that year. Other entries were more formal and satisfying in terms of clarity, as most of them reference official registrations for foreigners in Grēdôcava. Steyg presumably requisitioned their files as needed, though few went into depth. The shorter entries, such as the first, were for people that were observed but could not be matched to a known identity.

Why were people like this? Munnehilde could understand curiosity. She was even prone to it at times, herself. But at some point, tracking every single foreigner in the country was absurd. Even Steyg's efforts had clearly declined through the decades, as the thickest of volumes mentioned on the index seemed to cover single years where he focused on in-depth background checks, while the latest ones covered entire decades full of lackluster details. Someone's place of birth had to be one of the least relevant facts about them—the territory Otto was born in even lacked a name!

In this case, it helped her, but she couldn't ignore it it—she had to acknowledge she was only having this easy a time looking into the man from the invitation because it had been the old spymaster's habit to at least note foreigners down.

Abelard Lange - 23 - Sōkijaną, Lizaną

The first and only entry she found that fully matched the name was barebones. The man in question had hailed from Lizaną indeed, and he had been in Grēdôcava since 5795.

This had been of far less use than Munnehilde had hoped—she wanted to look into Otto's future affine, to see what kind of past he might have. At best, what kind of person he might be. But she had attained none of that—nothing but a name and an age. He should be around 34 by now, even closer to Thekla's age than Munnehilde had guessed.

Munnehilde faced the large map that hung from this room's wall, a dry thing with pieces flaking off it. She was starting to weigh the risk of having this place warded against decay for her own piece of mind, versus the fact that such an act would have been out of character for Steyg. She could prevent suspicion at the local level well enough, but she'd have no control over rumors if they spread.

Her finger hovered near the border as she read over the faded names of different localities. She had based her assumption that he might have a file in the first place on his family name, as she related it to this area, but nothing guaranteed it had been more than a fluke. Grēdôcavan geography was something she barely grasped as it was, and she'd only studied Lizaną's incidentally before.

If something came up, she would do her best to learn all that seemed pertinent in order to comprehend it before she took action, but she'd never been the type to study aimlessly—she saw no point to it. What use would it be to learn something she may never put to use? It was far better to simply wait until the necessity arose, and address that necessity directly, through investigation and study.

There. Her ruminations were cut short as she found the label for Sōkijaną, barely legible but undeniably near the border. Having that confirmation helped her select her next steps with more confidence—an area was far more inconspicuous to research than a person, and the real Steyg had send far more frivolous requests than this before. Asking for specific files like this would raise no eyebrows in the archive, especially not if they were to be copied and sent over by the spymaster's command.

Munnehilde summoned some parchment, drafting the outline for the requisition she would later make. Files for foreigners that arrived after 5790, if they hail from any point between Sōkijaną in Lizaną and Agjōhain in Grēdôcava. She pondered whether she should further narrow that, or perhaps it would be best to expand the area, and make the potential areas of interest broader, should anyone wonder why the request was made? The idea was for it to not be tied to a specific foreigner, to avoid labeling anyone as a point of interest within their circles.

Distantly, she recalled she had not meant for this to take this long. If Otto awoke before she was back, there would be no concerns—he was used to picking up where she left with minimal context. As for the courier…

The courier was probably fine. Myriam had pastries. People liked pastries.