It probably said something about her decision-making capabilities that Malwine could not bring herself to choose between trying to arrange to send her double off to spy on Anselm or just running a trial for Thekla next.

  She’d refrained from using [Write Anywhere] too much for three days, and hadn’t touched [Imitation Beyond Filiality] at all for the same timeframe. The fact that she had no trouble updating her list of questions should have served as confirmation that the coast was clear, but a delayed pang of paranoia had gotten the better of her.

  Now that she was at least mostly confident something or someone—dammit, Veit—with access to better panel text formatting tools than herself wouldn’t barge in to interrupt her, she felt finally free to continue her practices.

  Malwine took in a deep breath, closing her eyes, and stopped just short of diving right back into the trial staging room.

  With a groan, she crouched forward. She couldn’t simply move on and pretend this hadn’t happened, could she? Even if she avoided ever trying to start a trial for her oldest uncle again, that wouldn’t be enough.

  Sooner or later, she’d have to address it, and maybe, just maybe, doing so while it was still fresh in her fickle memory would have been for the best.

  Ugh. Malwine huffed. She felt that—arguably irrational—hatred of how the more rational parts of her mind clashed with the instinct to just delay the unwanted conversation.

  She’d have no choice but to share even more about her abilities, if she did this. And it stood to reason she would have to speak to Veit—she was almost definitely in over her head yet again. But this time, she had someone she could consult, a literal Level 400-plus.

  The forester she had annoyed into teaching her was a resource she couldn’t justify not using here.

  Malwine hesitated—he had all but told her not to bother him until the next The Snow. It didn’t help that she knew all too well that she was looking for an excuse not to do it, to avoid all the explaining she’d have to do.

  With a groan, she sent her double off. She’d have no guarantee that he’d be at his weird forester hut, but chances were, she could make him notice her.

  “Veit,” she called out in a whisper. His senses would no doubt pick it up, or so she believed. Her confidence waned as seconds stretched on with seemingly no response, and Malwine was about to repeat herself when the door slammed open with such intensity that she worried it might fall off its hinges.

  Malwine scowled. If she were an actual child wandering through the forest, that would have probably been quite the scare. Then again, Veit knew she was a liar, as he dubbed her.

  She headed inside without another word, the faint pinprick of something hitting her nose as she approached Veit. The man had his hair tied up in a bun, and he was stirring something beyond where she could see without taking steps back, given her height.

  “Are you cooking?” Malwine recognized her disbelief might have been a bit over the top, immediately after speaking, but that did little to quell her shock.

  “Not everyone has staff to cook for them, Malwine.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she blurted out. Of course he’d interpret her reaction as that of a spoiled child who couldn’t grasp the concept of cooking on her own… The widow had cooked. On occasions. Infrequent occasions, but still. “I didn’t think you ate.”

  At that, Veit actually turned around, tipping his head down to meet her gaze. “Pardon—what?”

  “You’re a high level cultivator, and I’d never seen you really use anything in this house,” Malwine crossed her arms after shrugging. “I just sort of assumed high levels didn’t eat.”

  The forester continued to look at her as if she’d grown a second head.

  “Seriously?” Malwine scoffed. “Of everything we’ve talked about, that’s the thing that leaves you speechless? By the way, I think your food’s burning up.”

  Veit’s eyes widened, and he turned to check on whatever he was cooking. Truthfully, she couldn’t begin to guess why he seemingly found her theory so absurd—for one, if she could theoretically sustain herself indefinitely between [Implacable] and [Meditation], it stood to reason stronger people would have far superior options for that.

  “Your comment caught me off-guard—it reminded me of something… unpleasant,” Veit answered, once he’d finished furiously prying his meal from the pan.

  Malwine was almost proud—that really sounded like the type of non-answer she’d be giving people on a bad day.

  “Well,” she started, only to sigh. How was she supposed to start any sort of ’I was involved in a verbal spat over system panels’ conversation? “So what are you cooking?”

  She was honestly a bit surprised he hadn’t actually complained about her showing up.

  Yet.

  “I confess I know not the Grēd?cavan word for this,” Veit admitted, pulling the nearest chair to sit down. “It’s a traditional meal from my father’s homeland.”

  Malwine climbed onto the other chair, now facing him in that tiny table of his. She examined his plate. It looked vaguely like an omelette, if a bit bleached out. She could make out red and green spots, reminiscent of diced peppers, and what she could have sworn was the occasional chickpea jammed into a corner.

  That she could identify that much in the mushy dish was a testament to the effectiveness of the Perception attribute, really.

  “So,” Malwine tipped her head, keeping her eyes on the plate as to hopefully avoid betraying her nervousness. “So your father wasn’t Grēd?cavan? That needs to go on the census.”

  Veit blinked. “Of course that is where your mind wanders,” he laughed. “He was from the City-State of Opejō. It was a small territory, which cherished its newfound freedom after the Empire’s fall. The Principalities around it were of another mind.”

  When he didn’t continue, Malwine debated pushing further. Did they invade it? Destroy it?

  She was having a hard time interpreting Veit’s expression, and [The Way of the Clave] had the gall to give her the Skill feedback equivalent of a mental shrug.

  “I want to ask so many things about history still, but I wouldn’t know where to start,” she admitted. “I know there is more to the world that Grēd?cava, but.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “And I would not know where to start, if I were to discuss it without direction,” Veit told her between spoonfuls of his meal. “I can understand that dissonance, between wanting to know of what’s beyond and knowing about where we live. That might be one of the few feelings you’ve expressed actually fitting your age.”

  Malwine frowned—he was reading way too much into her attempt at nudging the conversation. “What?”

  “When we’re young, our world is small. We live in a room, a house, and then we learn there are things outside the house,” the forester explained, somehow managing to not come off as condescending despite his words. “We learn of towns, of our country. Going beyond that can be disorienting, maybe even a bit overwheling. Just when you think you understand the place of your Existence, you find you must expand your grasp of its scale. It is entirely reasonable to feel that way.”

  She pondered going along with it for about a second before her scowl deepened—her ego might have won out in the end. “I understand the concept of the world, Veit. I meant, like… Countries existed that no longer exist. Stuff like that.”

  “Oh,” Veit actually paused for a brief moment before shaking his head. “I stand by my words. Our place in the world grows more difficult to grasp the more we understand the scope of it. You will have to learn to process that feeling rather than deny it.”

  Malwine huffed, but chose not to push further. So much for a nice segue into poking him about other countries…

  In silence, she waited for her most annoying teacher to finish eating, and watched him as he headed for the faucet. It worked so much like those she remembered from the widow’s life that she almost did a double-take at that.

  Veit returned the clean plate to the pantry, and looked over his shoulder to lock eyes with her. “What did you do this time?”

  Malwine put a hand to her chest, feigning shock. “What? Why are you assuming I did something?”

  “I somehow suspect you would not come here, at this time of the year, simply to ask me about whether I eat food for sustenance.”

  You aren’t doing a great job at convincing me you even do eat food for sustenance. Not that Malwine truly cared. “Fine. I might have had a minor altercation. A verbal spat of little consequences.”

  Veit exhaled with the proficiency of a tea kettle. “With who?”

  “Good question,” Malwine nodded, smiling. Her thoughts raced—how could she even begin to explain? She understood she’d have no choice but to provide him with at least some context, but continuously struggled to settle on just how much she could comfortably share.

  “Explain,” Veit’s demand amounted to little other than asking her to do that which she was already trying to figure out the ‘how’ of—not very helpful—and Malwine huffed again.

  “…So I have an ability that lets me run trials to get some attributes from my ancestors. Or family members, really. It always worked just fine before,” she chose to intercalate truth with that blatant lie. “I attempted one such trial for my uncle and somehow ended up arguing with someone through a panel. I do not understand it any more than you do right now, probably.”

  For some reason, Veit was vigorously rubbing his temples, eyes shut. “You. What.”

  Malwine bit her lip. She’d assumed Veit had to be used to this by now. “…Can you rephrase the question?”

  The forester stilled, and she could have sworn he opened his eyes for the express purpose of glaring at her. He was clearly still considering her words. “Trials. That could mean many things. How does the ability work? Is it a Skill?”

  Malwine pondered that. She could probably tell him that much. Before she began to read her Trait’s description aloud, however, the thought struck her. She’d already used [Write Anywhere] to show panels to Adelheid, if only her own transcripts of things. Hell, she’d used her power to terrorize guard-Johann.

  Wordlessly, she slapped the Trait’s information into a panel and manifested it before Veit.

  The white-haired man’s eyes widened, and she could have sworn that, before the unreal light of system text, they appeared reflective, as if they had become mirrors specifically for this.

  Her Perception was actually good enough, now, that Malwine all but confirmed that assessment—it was as if the text itself reflected when he looked at it.

  A tall order, considering system panels didn’t appear to be a tangible thing at all, from what she’d noticed. She was pretty sure she would have gotten caught reading panels long ago if that wasn’t the case.

  Malwine considered her curiosity seriously piqued now, all other concerns momentarily pushed to the side.

  Veit, however, was in the middle of a groan. Faster than she could blink, he was gone, and the door to his room slammed shut.

  The unmistakable sound of shouts—probably curses—reached her ears, though she couldn’t make out the meaning of a single word. Things were also certainly being thrown.

  If I had known displaying a panel would be all it took to short-circuit Veit, I would have done this sooner. She regretted nothing.

  Gingerly, Malwine approached the door, tapping it lightly. “Uh, Veit?”

  Her call did not appear to affect the outraged shouts behind the door.

  “Aren’t you literal millennia old?” she challenged. “No offense, but I’d expect me to have a meltdown before you.”

  That also didn’t quite help, but the noise reduced gradually, until all she could hear were vague thumps and the dragging of furniture.

  The door opened, and Veit stared down at her. The room behind him appeared surprisingly pristine, his tossled hair the only evidence of what had just happened. “I took this job, and moved here, to have some peace of mind.”

  “Wise choice.” What else did he expect her to say?

  “I seem to have instead gotten myself entangled with a stasis-displaced toddler Forger who immolates sibyls as if that were a reasonable action,” he hissed out. “Forgive me—not—but had I known the whole of this, I would never have offered to help you. If I had met you back when she was still alive…”

  Malwine blinked idly, wholly ignoring his complaints about her. Too bad for you, I guess. Had she been less confused, perhaps she might have reacted differently. “What’s a Forger?”

  The door slammed in her face.

  “Oh, come on, Veit,” Malwine sighed over the noise. “Only one of us is taking this with the maturity of a toddler, and you may be surprised to learn it isn’t me.”

  “A Forger!” was all he forester shouted back, his uncharacteristic reaction showing no signs of stopping. Maybe he wasn’t actually throwing things around—if there were Skill shenanigans involved, that might have explained how he managed to put his room back together the first time around.

  Seeing as her previous strategy failed, she knocked on the door again. “Seriously, what in any Devil’s name is a Forger?”

  Her frustration only grew the more it took for her to get a real answer—she’d half a mind to just dismiss the double and reform it directly inside his room.

  “Veit!”

  Fuck it. Malwine went through with it, letting her form unravel before she stepped into the room.

  What greeted her was chaos. She could barely make out the shape of anything as the room shook, everything flooded with luminescent winds. Veit had curled into himself, grasping at his head—his complaints were as unintelligible to her as they had been from the outside.

  Little over a moment after her double had manifested, everything stilled, and Veit opened his eyes.

  For a split second, she could have sworn she saw herself reflected in them as perfectly as she would have been upon a mirror—and all at once, she remembered just how much [Unpacifiable] disliked the man.

  Everything slid back into place, up to and including a random painting that had hung from a wall, and Veit stood, giving his room a brief glance. Despite the two incidents today, his eyes looked perfectly normal now. “You should not have seen that.”

  “You slammed the door on me to throw a tantrum,” Malwine countered. “Did you expect there to be no follow-up questions?”

  “I should be asking that of you,” Veit sighed—he sounded more resigned than actually calm. “Yet I refuse to let my feelings get the best of me in this, when someone else is here.”

  Malwine slipped into her widow persona, more out of habit than anything else, and uttered the first wise-sounding phrase she could think of. “They say it isn’t wise to bottle your emotions up.”

  “It is not,” the forester agreed. “And you might be aware of the fact that I was indeed taking care of that. But I know better than to take it out on anyone blameless, regardless of your invasion of my privacy…” He inhaled slowly. “Fine, so be it. Set this aside.”

  Veit met her gaze, still looking a bit more intense than she’d gotten used to. “And start from the beginning.”