162 Hypocritical Siblings

"Mother, please contact Gable and have him adopt me. I no longer wish to live in this fatherless home of an absent but dangerous and manipulative villain."

A very formal request to a very formal desk. Supposedly.

"What did you say, my dear little sack of sweethearts?" Mother rubs the soap and skin products out of her ears. Or maybe she's rubbing it in? I don't know under all that hair.

My mother's desk is a lot smaller than my father's.

For one, she doesn't really have a real permanent desk. Or well she did but I think it broke sometime last year. Don't ask how.

Often, the work moves wherever she goes. If she's taking too long for tea in the atrium, the reports wheel in over there. If she's lounging around any of the gardens, the maids follow with the work there. If she's hiding under my father's desk, Alfonso and the missing goats will trap and bury her there.

The life of a true noble lady is indeed hard. Surrounded by luxury, but just as much work to keep it all going smoothly.

And thus, I want out. Out of this evil and corrupt place!

At my little outburst, Mother blinks her big brown cow eyes.

They're a few shades lighter than Grampa's, yet even more blankly dumb and empty. With so much hair on her head, it's only natural that her dolly eyelashes frame those large eyes the same way the bush of curls frames her head.

I've long given up trying to figure out what goes on in there though.

"Ohhh! My poor krackle berry booboo, you must miss your papa so so sooo very much?! So you want to play with your wonderful Grandpapa and Gabgab to ease the pain?! Why I'm sure we can arrange a playdate soon." Mother claps in her misunderstanding before picking me up in a hug.

That's not even the worst part.

"Papa!?!" my little sister pops out from under Mother's dress and legs, as if that were a perfectly acceptable place to play.

"Oh my darling, my cruel thorny eternally elegant rose of a darling. To leave us Mother and small children to fend off the cold of loneliness and heartbreak by ourselves." Mother snuggles and sobs, lifting Lilyanne into her hold as well.

"I give up." I go limp in her hold, holding out my arms to surrender my useless efforts. Also it's getting cramped in here..

Just give up trying to guess if there's a high functioning thought in that head let alone how she reached that bad conclusion. She's the mother of Lilyanne Ventrella, the dumbest, densest heroine of this world.

My wretched Father holds the brain cells in this relationship and he's not even here. At least he left Alfonso behind to keep the house running.

Which might be why today's morning desk is Mother's vanity.

The inner chambers of a lady are off limits to men, and their never-ending carts of paperwork. Not even a house fire would warrant Alfonso, let alone any other males, from barging into Mother's boudoir.

Maids, on the other hand….are a different issue.

They can deliver the paperwork on her rotating morning desk just fine.

"My lady, though the young misses are here, we have yet to fully drape your grace in all fineries. May I present some inspiration?" the senior maid, Madolina, attempts to remind Mother to get ready.

It is followed by the row of the others presenting various racks of dresses, accessories, jewels, and such pretties. As if Mother would just feel it out, and decide her daily outfit on what she wants to match.

"..." Instead, Mother looks back and forth between the maids and the giant pile of fresh paperwork they delivered on her desk.

"I shall stay in my nightgown today..." she almost declares, as if that could help her avoid work.

The maids all look at each other and nod, before rushing in a random flurry. Without their veils or armor of the public, it's all a whirlwind of hair, fluttering skirts and silent steps on fine leather slippers on carpet.

Not even a minute later, they assembled one whole new outfit to present. All light colored and loosely resembling a 'nightgown' inspired look.

"As your lady instructed. A light and easy indoor dress that will be comfortable to do various work in. Slippers of dream mountain lamb skin, crafted by skilled artisans in the 8 point flower suture. The robe of 9000 silk snow blossoms, the outer robe of golden spider spun thread, a ring of braided ant silver enchanted to be comfortable on all writing instruments, followed by the hand cream made from parts of the Tenacious Toad…" Mandolina describes each item.

A maid each takes my sister and I away in their arms to roll Mother away behind the dressing screen. Ready for work whether she likes it or not.

"So many pretties. Mama has sooooo many!" Lily says excitedly, as if she would never grow bored in Mother's huge wardrobe.

"Too many." I agree with my sister, before snapping my little fingers for the maid Noemi to set me down.

Which she does so, right back down Mother's vanity.

Part of me is concerned how much stuff Mother has on there. But another part of me nods in womanly understanding. As someone from the modern era, I was not much better with my own beauty purchases.

I mean, I didn't use anywhere near as much money. But I can't judge the number of bottles and pretty packaging. 12 step skincare routine anyone? Anyone? Yeah too much for me too.

No one has time for that but the very rich and very free.

Even then that's too many steps for anyone to remember, especially my mother and her contemporaries. Hopefully it's not just Mother that's a big money spilling shopper. I'm counting on that future luxury business.

While I do see a few of my products on her vanity, lovingly displayed front and center, they're obviously not the only ones she uses. Looking at my products like this, I almost want to cry.

They…look so shabby. So pathetically cheap and shabby in comparison to some of the other products.

The packaging wasn't ready yet?! It wasn't anywhere near ready! Mother, how could you just take them like that? They look so bad next to the professional stuff!? Ahhhhhh!!!

I feel as if I'm getting distracted on something important again.

The attention span of a child is a very difficult thing to work with. Especially in this body.

"Rosa, don't be sad. Bad bottles! Bad bad bad. Vedetty, make the bottles go bye bye for making my Rosa sads." Lilyanny orders ruefully, all while wiggling in a maid's arms.

Smartly, the maids do so by turning the little chair around so I'm facing the other way. You know, rather than just smashing everything on the vanity like Lilyanne maybe originally thought of.

My sister hums in thought, then nods at the acceptable enough service.

I would facepalm at the ridiculous sight she makes but I have many more years of her to deal with. Her ridiculousness will only get worse. At least she's cute for now that she's so small.

"GASP, MAMA SO PRETTIES." my sister exclaims when the maids deem Mother appropriate to be rolled out. Clothes donned on and hair already worked on to be tamed.

Indeed she looks like a dream. A soft and clean gentle looking woman clothed in elegant white. A timeless classical beauty.

I do see where Lilyanne is coming from since this relaxed style of light and flowy indoor dress is certainly the kind my sister's older self favored. Now if only that Lilyanne didn't go bouncing around wearing them in public, we wouldn't have such issues.

"Oho ho ho, I do like the sound of that." Mother takes the compliment, even if it means little to nothing coming out the mouth of her own daughter.

"Meh, anything is better than a clown outfit." I shrug and approve, thumbs up and all.

If my mother twitches, even just a bit, it's quickly held down by the maids busy brushing and intricately braiding her hair. A group effort at that job.

"My lady, would you like this one first, or perhaps this one? These?" a maid presents.

But it is not lovelies in her hands that are up for choice. Rather which set of paperwork. All held up for Mother to grimace yet be unable to avoid.

Ah, Alfonso has these maids trained so well. Perfectly tailored for everything Mother lacks. No running away from the Lord and Ladyship work nor the goat cases when they're around.

I wonder what went wrong with my own maids, let alone my sister's. Oh, good help is just so hard to find. Tsk tsk.

"Yes. Yes. No. Maybe so. That- the town mayor needs to come see me personally. That goes to burn in the trash. That…is my darling husband's and he snuck it in my pile. Do return it back to his."

As busy as she is, her personnel maids do all they can to ease her pain. Including but not limited to doing her hair, filing her nails, stamping and ghostwriting her menial paperwork, and even feeding her children.

It's very efficient.

"Yummy yummy. More." Lilyanne smacks her little lips as Vedette spoon feeds her a simple sweet bowl of milk and bread.

"Lilyanne, you're old enough to eat by yourself. Try it." I hand her a utensil.

"Nope. It tastes yummier like dis." she turns her little head away from me, going right back to opening her hungry mouth.

"...So childish." I judge over my milk cup.

"Noooooo, I want to do that! I want to eat with and feed my darlings." Mother cries, sounding more like a child than even Lilyanne at times.

"Please finish at least this file of work please, my lady." a maid gestures to a not so short stack.

"You can do it, my lady. Your returning Lord husband shall be so taken with your diligence." another cheers lightly, sorting even more paperwork.

"Do you need more of the hand cream of the tenacious toad, my lady?"

Ruthless. Mother's maids can be ruthless. But they absolutely have to be to keep someone like Mother in check. Otherwise, she would be rolling off in bad distractions and naps in odd places.

We should be good children and not distract her from all that hard work the maids need to get done. At least not yet, meals come first.

"I want a steak in red wine sauce, served more rare than medium, with a side salad," I order.

"....My young miss, those are not breakfast foods…but the kitchen shall be informed. To be served this evening, young miss." Noemi answers over me, laying out my simple kid's meal.

Novels and toons lied. I'm a rich person now and I don't get steak and salad for breakfast. Pfffft. Oh well. As they say, when in Rome, do as they do.

"...So so childish…." Lilyanne copies me, from between her bites. She didn't have to copy my stare too? Sheesh, what is that child choosing to learn?

Fresh bread is also delicious. Such simple but quality things are made even more delicious with this healthy hunger and the show of watching Mother somehow work and cry at the same time.

"No…more." Mother mopes, even as her hands keep scribbling away at the papers and parchments that keep coming.

"Just a little bit more, my lady." The maids cheer and support, helping by piling even more files around her.

It's a race against time for when Mother overloads and runs away. Get as much work done as possible! Fighting everyone!

Eventually though the hand cream of the tenacious toad has to wear off, and Mother's delicate free loving spirit dies along with it. Or maybe she's just dead, if the way she's slumped over her little desk is anything to base off.

"Wonderful job my lady. "

"So much done, so many people will breathe to live another day, my lady. "

"Such a lovely day to complete a circuit of assignments. In this beautiful walking weather. How about taking the young misses for a change of scenery? Shall we change your shoes, my lady?"

"Perhaps some foot cream of the tenacious toad for you, my lady?"

"No no no! That's quite enough tenacity from me or applied to me! Yes a walk, a walk is a lovely idea. Off we go my darling girls! Come to Mama." Mother perks up but only to escape.

With a child in each arm, she hurries out the door. As if the maids would start chasing her with more paperwork at any second. It's a very likely scenario.

That is not the case today and it's a clear way to the main hall. Right where she is warmly greeted with our smiling butler on the other side.

"A good day to you, my Lady. And to you, my young misses." Alfonso stands into position, sounding as if he were merely passing by rather than waiting like an imposing school teacher.

A whole mushroom pops out the wall as Mother shakes from holding in a crying whine, followed by many more under the decorative painting.

Hmmm do we have a magic mold problem? Still!? So many mushrooms.

Seriously, are those edible or what?

"Our Lady was about to take the young misses out on a stroll." Mandolina steps up, the eldest and most formal of the maids.

With a motion of her hand, the others present the piles of completed work. They beam like a proud tutoring center over a failing problem child showing progress. The amount is deemed acceptable by Alfonso, for he simply nods his head and smiles slightly beneath his mustache.

"Please wear your coats properly. Have a wonderful walk with the young misses. It is a beautiful day out." he bows.

Mother needs no further prompting and quickly books it, with Lilyanne and I bouncing in her arms the whole way.

Homework is indeed scary. No matter what age. Not everyone can be Father.

Which is exactly the subject I need to tattle, ahem, speak to Mother about now that she's not busy anymore.

"We miss Papa!"

"No Lily! No we don't! Mother, listen to this. It's awful. Surely you already know some but Father has done all these terrible things! Listen!" I start to complain.

The garden fountains that haven't shut off still splash and run, providing a nice ambiance over our voices. The gardeners still snip the foliage up high and the laundry maids still scuttles back and forth chattering. Small flowers still bloom in their pots and planters. Evergreens, vines and bushes line our outdoor walkways as if it were an eternal summer.

It's a mild year for us, warmer than the last.

It's hard to imagine the frost and famine that will come. The freezing that has already creeped and gripped on other lands. Growing seasons cut short, wilted and dead crops, something so simple setting a domino effect of destruction. It's hard to imagine it here.

It's harder yet to say or know how long it will go on for.

The last I can remember, the end of my own life and future showed that the situation was only growing worse still, The hints of something beyond just mere hunger in the people. Famine was already bad enough, but it left so many weak and vulnerable to something far worse.

Faint, scattered, but coming by all the infected signs. Something far worse to hit.

But that's a problem for future me! I'm busy enough as it is.

"*...hic* In conclusion, *hic* Father is a bad person. In all the conclusions, Father is *hic* a very bad, no good, minion stealing, Gable hated waaaah, most villainous person!!! Ahhhhh!!!" I can't help but finally cry out, so much so my little legs have already given up on walking.

It is a shameful scene, me bawling on the floor of the garden walkways. But it is an effective one, according to the profile built of evidence so far.

Mother is weak to those who need her! Selfish. Bratty. Terribly ugly when crying. Yes, I am the perfect Lilyanne at this moment. The one who always gets away with this technique!

It's not like I actually want to cry like a baby or anything. Most certainly not.

Like a baby though, I am pulled into my mother's arms. Her tender hands pat my back and bounce me for however long it takes my genius method acting to stop crying.

This is going to take awhile. I am just too good of an actress! Oh my nose. Yep, definitely snot running like a faucet down my nose. Ugh, the things I do to set up my cases.

"There there, oh my poor baby girl. For this to strike you so harshly already?! Such heartbreak? At this age? Oh, oh my, it's so cute but as a mother, should I be concerned? But kyaaa it's so cute…I can't…oh Frederick how could you separate such sweet youth like that!? Oh My! Oho ho~ "

"..." my sister looks up to where Mother holds me, her eyes oddly judgmental.

Perhaps she finally sees how ridiculous she looks most days? Perhaps not. It is Lilyanne after all.

My sister squints at me, turning up the judgment even further as if that were even possible with her little peanut of a brain.

Oh my. Is that what I look like when grimacing? Maybe not as cute as Lilyanne is, but something in the same gene pool? Such a gap moe of her small sweet little face and the deadpan of a disgusted expression! Adorable!

It's this young and small adorableness that I still possess, even if it's just a fractional imitation of my sister's, that I use to roll myself all over Mother with.

A dangerous mission, but a mission I must take on now. The earlier the better. Before my little cuteness fades away!

"*hic hic sniff* Mama! We need to punish that bad guy at once!....or whenever he gets back. We really must! And my minions, how do I get them back? Poor Georgie, his skin must be breaking out in stress hives without me! Mama, whatever am I to do? I'm such a bad minion owner! I can't even keep them safe from evil papa." I sob some more, hiding the uglier snottier half of my face hidden in the valleys of her breasts.

With all my shameless might, I stare up imploringly. With a power beyond my own, I summon every giant teary eyed cute animal ever into my gaze. Puppies. Kittens. Pusses in boots. Puppy kittens, who cares.

Just fire up the cuteness death ray.

"Mama, help me. Pweaaaaaaaasse!?!" I paw at her chest, familiar yet pathetic.

"...mppf *gag* ach blurg."

And the mood I worked so hard to set is ruined by Lilyanne gagging, abruptly feeling sick down there. I always tell that girl not to eat too much, especially in cheese and dairy products. But does she listen? Noooo.

Luckily my genius method acting was enough to draw all of Mother's attention to what's most important. Me!

"OH MY POOR BABY! To think your internal torment was so exasperated by this… Your mama understands entirely! Papa was such a BADDIE at times,…and now Darling is doing the same thing to our cute baby. No. Worse! All the worse in his own way. So cruel, to make our cute little daughter cry like a heartbroken young maiden. Oh, how Mama sobs for and with you! "

Uh…well… That's all very good and well, Mother. Nor can I blame you, since the thought of any child being raised by Grampa is terrifying and unimaginable. But crying about your past traumas with me isn't going to do anything to help.

How about enacting revenge? Snap your fingers and make that awful other half of your gross marriage grovel back here right this instant? Steal all his assets? Murder? Divorce?

Hmmm that's asking for too much.

Maybe I should just stick to baby steps, like asking for my idiotic minion and assistant back?

Especially Georgie. Amar at least was expected in whatever torture was planned for him. But my displaced teenaged assistant?

I have a feeling Georgie is screaming his head off in a bad situation right now.

"Oh dear. I'm sure the nice foreign boarding school can arrange something. How exciting. A little sad that our cuties were rushed off so suddenly, we didn't even get to have a proper party for them, but exciting none the less! I'm sure they will be adorable in their uniforms. If only Darling or the teachers could send a portrait. I wonder if I could pay for them…. ''

What did she say?…Boarding school?

How on earth did Mother, nor anyone, ever come to such a conclusion? Boarding schools don't make you suddenly disappear out of nowhere in shady locations with a magical zap?!

Father, what did you tell her? Grampa?! Gable???

What boarding school?!! That is utter nonsense!

"Why Rosalia dear, a boarding school is a big place where some children can receive an education while boarding or living there on the campus. Some children go far away…. often very far away. And it's saddening to be so away. And *sniff* scary alone, and *sniff sniff* filled with many other children who may or may not be nice *sniff sniff*, waaaaaah." Mother starts to explain, only to quickly be swept away?

For some odd reason now, Mother is the loudest one crying.

I suspect she doesn't have fond stories of boarding schools.

"Mama. Rosa? Lily wants to go inside somewhere now….Mama, growing too much mushrooms is bad for the garden flowers. Mama. Mama, pwease, the gardeners will be sad." my sister tugs to head somewhere more private, and you know, less shamefully exposed.

Oh my…to think even Lilyanne would know the shame of having an embarrassing parent.

Here I thought she lived in a lala land where nothing is ever wrong and our idealized parents could do no wrong? Though to be fair, that was the opinion of a moody though tragically orphaned teenage girl, and not….well us living in this very moment.

"Boarding school! Waaaaaaaahhh *hic*!!! How come every other lady could do it but I *huc sob*, stupid papa*hic* didn't care about a young lady's feelings and *hic hic*-"

"...Mother."

"Mama…"

Who is the adult here and who are the children?

The answer may surprise you, especially looking at this scene. Two small little girls forced to comfort their sobbing Mother in a growing field of mushrooms.

Lilyanne is right, the poor gardeners shall be distraught to find their neat pathways and planters overrun by the army of fungi.

"Mother…you never went to boarding school." I try to comfort and make sense of things, relying on my hopefully still accurate knowledge of our family history.

After all, why would she when she had the troops right there, and all the private tutors that Grampa could ever bribe yet not kill by accident? Weren't my sister and I also privately educated with the best money could buy and connections could make? At most, we just were dragged on crazy trips or 'learning experiences' as Grampa called them.

"Maybe I wanted tooooooo," she sobs, trying to hold it in only to choke and make it all worse.

"Mama…there dere. Rosa and Lily no go away dere dere dere pain go away. No more crying. We stay with mama! Mama and Papa and Grampa and the goats and the mushrooms and-"

Perhaps sense finally catches up to Mother, or maybe the cute comforts of a nonsensical little child worked. For Mother sniffs and dries the tears from her random outburst.

"How silly of me, to still be so caught up in old tales and needing to be comforted so. Oh Darling, where would I be without you and our precious babies.*sniff* To be so sensible at this age…how pitiful yet sweetly gifted from my Darling." Mother lets out a last sniffle and death hug, piling us into her arms.

"...never talk about boarding school again, got it." I note to myself so loudly I fear I even spoke out loud again.

"Lily don't know what boarding school is but yes. No likey. No talky." my sister confirms, equally trapped by our strange Mother.

Almost as bad and unpredictable as Grampa, almost and yet worse in so many ways. We shall continue to blame Grampa.

In fact, without Father here to blame, I will continue to place everything entirely on Grampa. Seriously, where did Mother get this boarding school idea? Only by some nonsense Grampa made up or rambled on made her misunderstand.

I don't know where that magic portal sent my not so little assistant and far too helpless minion, but it was certainly no boarding school. Torture maybe. A hell training trip that's going to need a montage to keep up with.

But training in what?

…there's really only one thing that comes to mind. The only messed up conclusion that makes any sense.

Amar.

Amar is the point to this all. Him and his stupid tone deaf singing. What a useless power. Whoopee, with a song he can put people to sleep. That is, if we can even strangle it out of him. I wouldn't be surprised if he was somehow traumatized from using that gift after this.

Which would be the exact next step to raising a pawn like that.

It's something my Father would plan out. That and too many steps ahead that I can't see. I don't have the background he does, the information. Meanwhile Mother is either playing dumb or she really knows nothing. Or at least, nothing important.

I decide to go on the latter, and can't help but release a long tiresome sigh.

"Can we go somewhere else now?" Lilyanne sighs as well, vision swimming in mushrooms and oxygen deprivation from Mother's hugs.

I agree with her by mindlessly nodding, even if my thoughts are lost in ruminating.

Upon calming down and seeing the damage to the garden, Mother also agrees as she picks us up and merrily continues our walk far far away from this crime scene. Depression mushrooms strike again.

"Why boarding school…and where? This doesn't make any sense. Boarding school my butt. "

*smack*

Ow?! For some reason Lilyanne has shown violence towards me?! So rude? Where did she learn it from? Specifically it's my mouth, where she holds her warm little hands over. The sheer shock of it shutting me up.

Oh.

I did it again. My bad.

Mother sniffs and gazes down at me with her big teary eyes, her expression absolutely heartbroken for no reason. In response, Lilyanne sighs as if it's too late and retracts her hand from my mouth to double facepalm herself.

Seriously, why is Lilyanne already acting like her annoying self? Is she reaching her troublesome rebellious age already?

"Oh my poor little baby girl, to be in such a broken devastated state at separation …already…Oh children work fast these days. Even faster than me… Hmmm how to say this…."

I don't know what Mother is going on about, but I'm glad she keeps walking and there are no additional breakdowns. Thank goodness for those small mercies.

For the rest of the time, I will just tune her out.

The walk goes on further and further from our main gardens out to the annexes. The glass building by the artificial pond sparkles even with the barest of sunlight. The signs of construction are still there but it's mostly very calm these days in preparation and after our birthday. The workers are still progressing at their own steady schedules. Quality takes effort and time.

But it's still a sight to see. How much work has been done, how much difference there is from this life and the last.

Just look at this place? The things that weren't there before? On days where I doubt myself and if I've made any progress in this life of mine, I look up and out. These physical things still stand tall.

Things are changing. I'm changing them. I'm finding out so much more to things, though often painfully, and I'm moving them from within.

In some cases though, I don't know if I'm really changing anything or if it was a matter of perspective. The painful memories of Rosalia Ventrella…were real. The hurt behind them, were as real as my own. But looking back now…I don't know. I don't know how many things were blurred and skewed by the real hurt of a child.

I didn't- I mean…Rosalia didn't remember things 'wrong' per say. It's just how she saw it then. How she felt about everything and everyone.

What she remembered feeling, because our parents left us too young.

We could only rely on memory, as painful as they were. We glorified them. We were never going to get it back.

There's a lot of hurt still to unpack. I'm still solving them for her, that Rosa…

"There there. Rosa and Mama, don't be sads." a child tries her best to give comfort, to what I'm not sure.

She's a little confused, but I suppose she's got the right spirit. At least she's still sweet and cute at this age.

I'm not too sure about Mother though.

I think she's still going on about boarding schools or something. That or she's muttering out unconsciously. A very bad habit, Mother. It's easy enough to tune her out though , when she's not crying, making mushrooms sprout, or causing general chaos by being herself.

Easy enough to get comfortable. My Mother's hugs and cuddle carry are very soft when she's not squeezing the life out of me. Her chest almost resembles the oddly ideal napping spot that is Grampa's pecs. Almost. Extremely comfortable to fall unconscious on.

Is it nap time already?

Cursed weak little body of mine! I don't need it!

Before I can fully shake and slap myself to a proper state of awakeness, a bit of a commotion going on at one of the outer gates catches my attention. Mother has strolled us quite far for a garden walk, huh?

"What's going on over there?" I ask myself, a small part of me is sensing drama.

"Gasp, my homewrecker! Yaaaaay!~" Lilyanne wiggles, stretching her arms out to the commotion.

Either Lilyanne sees a certain unfortunate babysitter in the distance, or she has some supernaturally scary senses. Either way, Yuna is doomed with that nickname for the foreseeable future.

"Oh my, shall we take a look, my little puppies?" Mother looks between the two of our reactions, both squirming in her arms.

"I suppose so…but set me down first, Mother! This is unbecoming."

"Yaaaaay, go go go! My homewrecker MISSES ME!!!!"

Unfortunately for me, I am lumped together with my mischievous and slightly delusional little sister. Which means Mother keeps a tight hold on us both.

No running off.

When she walks up to the station gate with us packed like market groceries, I must swallow my shame and lie to myself I am still small, cute, and this is perfectly normal.

I am unable to swallow it very well and momentarily drown myself to hide my shameful face in my mother's dress.

"Oh my, so many fresh and familiar faces today. What are all you sweet young people visiting for? To play?" Mother smiles at the other side of the guards, who quickly bow and salute to her surprise appearance.

She speaks as she's already a middle aged old lady, pffft. Young people? Please, my own mother is hardly that much older herself. She's not even 30 yet, the average decade of people dying in tax records…Oh yeah. Me and my bad standards strike again.

"Good greetings to the Lady." bow the guards and employees on our side.

It's not much, this isn't a very large crowd or anything. It's just a bit of an odd mix, with an oddly tense air before we broke in. Even my Abbey is here?

The only people who don't bow properly are the outsiders. Yuna, ever the grumpy cat, and a very confused-looking commoner. About in her late teens? Taller than Abbey but not by very much. Even lower than farming class if I had to guess, from the worn state of her clothes, shorter dress, and overall dirt.

"Eeeeep! Yuna?" Abbey tries to hint at manners.

When I say hint, I mean to tug at the hem of his clothes desperately. My Abbey is trying so bravely not to cry in nerves. Caught between the regal appearance of the highest people in this land, her employers, and this punk there.

Unlike Georgie, who would just smack Yuna's head down, Abbey's approach is to shiver and shake in anxious fear as if she's being horribly abused. Like Georgie's brute force of nagging, this also works. Even if Yuna grimaces the whole way, guilty for nothing.

"A lady? Why that er mean dey a noble! Can dey help-"

Tacitly working together, both Abbey and Yuna pull a Georgie in just bending the girl half over in a bow. Hushes and whispers effectively shutting her up.

What a fascinatingly ignorant little creature? A real live commoner even more rural and crude than our very own. With no idea and no fear? Such a heavy country bumpkin accent. What primitive practically useless shoes. How do her clothes stay in place? Utterly fascinating.

Would love to study her further if I could capture her and had the time to spare. I also have a strong urge to play makeover for some reason. I blame Mother's influence.

More importantly, what are my babysitters doing with her? Here of all places.

"Enough bowing. Abbey, come here and give me the deets." I snap my little fingers, confident in Abbey's slang and code training.

My imposing aura isn't very strong when I'm tucked in Mother's arms like this, but I am very tall. Taller than usual! Thus my orders should have more weight to them.

"Snap snap *clap*. Here here, homewrecker. You haves to hide behind me or else boarding school." My sister also orders, a bad kiddy mockery of my own.

I thought we weren't talking about boarding schools anymore? Sheesh, what a hypocrite!

Unsurprisingly no one listens to us, at least not right away.

"Why of course you can come play with the children! Awwwww. How fun." Mother replies blindly, impervious to the tension that was here before us.

The guards look at each other and that doesn't go unnoticed.

"Oh look. We have permission." Yuna sarcastically smiles, emphasis on the 'we' part.

He makes the decision for Abbey in dragging her along over to our side, much to her panicked warnings to the girl and spluttered apologies to the guards. Her nervous worry contrasted ever the more against Yuna's seemingly smug and confident self.

Oh if only Abbey could learn just a bit off that. Just a bit.

"Good greetings and many thanks, to the kind, gracious, and most beautiful Lady Ventrella. We are not worthy." the same said punk switches his demeanor, bowing gracefully in thanks.

His too smooth kiss ass delivery has Abbey freezing at once, then checking around if she heard him correctly, or if anyone else was witnessing this freak of nature.

"Me too! Say hewo like dat to me too!" my sister giggles, oblivious to anything.

"....and to hi to the ….young….*sigh* bratty misses."

"Yaaay! Hi Hi too Yuna! Getting better! We're working on it." Lilyanne happily waves, then turns to inform us.

Oh, he's being hell trained by Lilyanne. Well that explains…still absolutely nothing. I think Abbey is too terrified to even be nervous anymore.

Mother, though, takes it with absolute delight.

"Awwwww sooooooo cute! What a good boy! Lilyanne Mariana Ventrella, don't chew the pants off your adorable babysitter again ok~ Thank you for playing so well with my girlies all this time. Did you two bring a new playmate?"

I highly doubt that is the case.

Abbey has been a diligent worker since she's arrived here from the city, but that's just it.

She's a city girl with few experiences with the locals. Why, she hardly ever leaves our estate of the Villa and even then that's just for work or revolving around work. Most of the people she interacts with are our employees. Too shy and nervous to reach out much, and even if she wanted to, what would they talk about?

Yuna on the other hand just doesn't usually care. Not exactly the boy scout.

"Not quite, Lady Ventrella. I was here to inquire about my missing senior….but Abbey here might be able to tell you more about er huh that. " he vaguely gestures back.

The country girl, which is saying a lot when this is already the countryside, blinks in excitement and confusion. She seems to sparkle at Mother's pretty appearance, yet does not know it's rude not to stare. Upon looking at her closer and mentally photoshopping out all the dirt, I can see she's prettier than expected. There are freckles and winter faded sunburns, but a well rounded set of features that could make her a small beauty.

There's also something on the tip of my tongue. Like a word forgotten though I know that I know it. Certainly so. That's the sort of feeling this stranger gives me. Familiar yet not.

Oh well. No use overthinking random things like this.

"Abbey? Why are you out here today? Were you resting or on break after our festival? You know you can come in and out with your employee pass, what's the hold up?" I ask as our mother finally sets us down to play ahem. I mean command our babysitters.

"Stay safe behind me, Lily protects you from boarding schools." my sister cutely stretches her legs and runs to attack Yuna.

Yuna is already groaning in the pain and agony of being trapped. Trapped in absolute nonsense. He doesn't even bother asking what she's going on about, it's all going to be horrible.

Yet he is still here. Hope the pay is worth it.

I turn over to my actual paid employee to speak, giving her my full attention. Or as full as can be with Lilyanne dancing like a feral beast in the background. Poor Yuna.

"Huh…so that's my Lily's type? Unlike my Rosa…who likes them seemingly soft and kind…possibly dark …as with her sitter Georgie... does Lily prefer them bittersweet…blond…high guard…hard to get! …yet melted soft cheese center? Oh my how very much like my darling! Oh dear, that's a beautifully satisfying but horribly harsh route…mama will support you too baby! …When it's time. Fight like a woman! …but don't grow up too fast. "

There seem to be incompressible nonsensical mutterings coming from Mother's side. It would be for the best to simply ignore it. Otherwise, I suspect a blood vessel may burst in my head.

"M-my Lady…a-and the young misses…" Abbey can't just not bow at my suspiciously muttering Mother first.

I graciously won't take it against her.

The pecking order here is just too firmly established.

"Th-th-that is to say. Yuna was hel-helping m-me to carry back-k some of your th-things. Wh-when we s-saw th-this…" Abbey motions to some crates and familiar displays on the ground, ones I've worked on myself for our pop up shop, to the clueless looking stranger at the gate.

Said stranger seems to take that as her cue to finally speak out.

"I lookin' for my friend! Been a mighty long time since I saw 'er and she said she be comin right round to visit now all taht hoo ha fun be done. But she ain't er shown at all! Tis not like 'er. Sure she be scary lookin' half tah day but she a real good old girl! Worry got me good!"

What?

Where is Georgie or Amar when you need them? I need a full translation. Oh right, boarding school apparently.

More importantly, why should I care?

"S-she means Ms. Cass….my y-young lady. " Abbey helpfully provides.

Oh right. Cass.

Cass as in Caspara, the shady maid of scary. The shady scary maid of suspicion that my brain damaged boarding school shipped minion Amar thinks he does a good job covering. Right. Cass from the harem somewhere. Scary scowling maid with the judgmental glare and the powers of pew pew zoom zoom magic wtf. Cass. Oh right. Cass with the scary. Spelled with 3 out 5 letters of the word scary. Cass who we have not heard from since a very bad failed rescue mission. That Cass. Right.

"I sure haven't heard from Cass in a while. No one to let me in the cave house." Yuna points out from where he scowls, my little sister running circles around him, tiring herself out.

"S-she mak-kes a p-point, my y-young lady. We certainly hav-ve not heard from the senior Ms. Cass in q-quite a while." Abbey agrees, circling the point.

I look at my nervous little maid, the nervous guards, the not so nervous Yuna, back to the guards, and even at the dumb blinking girl at the gate. Silence stretches out in my thoughts.

"...Cass has friends?!" I exclaim.

Forgive me, I couldn't hold back the shock once my brain finally processed all this information.

"Why er of course, Cass be a real bright an amazing ol girl. Did so much er for me and my folks on the road up to here. She can do anything! Even get into dis er fancy place. Amazing." her surprising choice in 'friends' claims.

I still don't get how that works but that isn't important right now.

"Oh my." Mother gasps, her pretty dumb head moving around at all players on the board, including down to my own. "Don't tell me…"

Mother's vision points to the guards, then to tilt her head slowly down. Line of straight to the ground. As if looking through it down.

"We did not lock the scary maid down in the dungeons all this time?! Did we???" I cry at the pavement below.

We're doomed.

"In our defense, please help us, my lady. She really won't come out of there. There's no reason or sense! Please save us." the guards finally break, dropping to the floor. Not just to beg but to cry.

"Maybe she's renovating your dungeons? Lots of time on her hands now." Yuna snarks a comment.

"I don' er get it. " the girl behind the gate says.

"Maybe…we sh-should….um…do somet-thing? My y-young lady? Senior Ms. Cass really is…..upset…down there…." Abbey shakes.

Yeah.

I'm doomed.

"Well let's have a look-see, once and for all!" Mother announces, snapping her orders out. As if we're checking out a trapped possum and not possibly the scariest magical terrorist in black, white and a feather duster.

I am absolutely doomed.

…At least I'm not in boarding school?

"No more scary boarding school talkie. Ssssshushie." Lily smacks my mouth, and that's that.

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Squish goes the muddy section of the road. Not the main road itself. No, that was far too well built to last for that. More to the far side where the ditches of drained and pooled water collect.

It couldn't be helped at this time of year, even when the skies were mostly clear.

"Watch out old man!" someone shouted out from the parked carriage.

It was a long road in and out of Ventrella territory. A lot of open and empty land for nothing. Maybe to easily scout and see who's coming. Maybe to feed goats with all that grass.

"Oh…oh dear I'm so terribly sorry. " the cloaked older gentleman apologized immediately, tone sincere.

He was a round and portly sort, that much could be seen even under his heavy cloak. With a fuzzy short beard gone a bit messy from the rough travels, and an even more frazzled top of his head. The poor signs of age thinning out the gray hair on top.

"Hey, be nice to the elderly. There you are, my good sir." shouted another of the coachmen.

"I'm just telling him to watch it!"

With a gnarled cane, that makes three squishing holes in the shallow mud. Two feet on weather-worn leather shoes. They had obviously seen through much and would walk through more.

"No ill will taken. May the goddess grace you all. Have wonderful travels. Thank you again, oh dear where did I leave my purse? " the portly man's face jiggled a bit when he turned his head back and forth to look around.

A kind passenger, a relatively young lady this time, held her hand out with the modest wallet. Tucked behind his seat, she shouted out in all good intentions.

A coachman, the ruder one, sneered a bit.

If the old man left it behind, it would have gone to his unofficial tip. But he didn't dwell on it too much. There were other stops to make today and it wasn't as if this economy level client looked to be very wealthy.

Then again, what wealth was there to be expected on this shared old carriage? This wasn't exactly the pony express, or a premium Bicchieri owned black carriage. He laughs to himself how he wouldn't be scrambling for tips if he snagged a job there.

At least the roads between land Ventrella and their border towns were smooth and easy to travel. A decent job riding down these. Low pay but low troubles.

"Oh my goodness gracious. Silly me. Memory isn't quite what it used to be! Bless you, sweet girl. Now if only someone could find where all my hair has gone. Ha! Safe travels. Bon voyage yes yes, that's what they say. Or is that just for boats? Oh my, what a lovely horse you are. Yes. Right. Buon Viaggio!" the older gentleman puttered and waved in a pace that was frustratingly common with senior citizens.

The carriage even took off before he seemed to get his bearings right. Horses gallop away by their reigns, creating a small wave of mud when trying to get back in lane.

The old man hobbled out to the streets, walking slowly but surely towards the more populated area of the tiny town. Sometimes the wind blew the wisps remaining hair on his head combed over, to the point he shivered and pulled up the hood of his cloak. He had a relatively pleasant smile on his face despite it all.

So did a lot of the town folks.

After all, there was such a lovely festival going on down in the heart of the Ventrella territory.

Sure they weren't technically a part of it, but just past the border they reaped a lot of the benefits. Guests, gossip, goods and news. Why a few bold and curious folks, especially the young ones, took a mule or wagon down to sell some wares and have a good look-see.

The ones in town didn't do so badly either, with all the tourists and guests coming through. A bit of coin in the cold dreary winter months could make anyone smile.

Anyone.

The old man hobbled to one of the many little rest inns. A modest one just off the beaten path, without any wine bars or taverns to disturb the peace or draw in any real guests. A very appropriate choice for someone not as young, or active, or cared about popularity.

Down the slightly twisted alley and through a very small though proper door.

Three clunking steps, from his cane to his shoes. Very polite to rub the mud off, or well try to.

"Why yes, hello there. Good day. I believe I had a reservation? For-" the old man panted, a bit out of breath, as he clumsily patted the sweat off his face.

"Down the back hall." the front desk didn't even look up from their book. Only slid a clunky set of rusted keys.

"Oh why thank you! What a nice young man. Such a full head of hair…" he clopped away, keys clinking the whole way. The sure steady sound of his cane on the wooden floors, marking his steps.

Clonk. Clink. Clink. Clonk. Clink Clack Clink.

"Now is this the right room? Or is that? Silly me, that's a bagno. Ah. Right."

The sound of a wooden door creaks after a series of clicks and turns of the keys. Not that anyone could verify it. Just sounds, down deep a dark hallway in a relatively empty little inn.

Nothing of note. Nothing to note.

Nothing at all.

Not even the sudden silence. The unnatural lack of noise in a place like this. A wooden door creaked, and that was it. Not even a breath.

Business as usual.

Inside and out.

"Welcome back, my Lord. I take it you had a satisfying journey." bowed a neat butler in the sheer dark.

A cloak fluttered into his waiting service, while the gnarled cane was short of simply thrown aside.

"Dreadful. Absolutely astonishing. Progress my old mare's plucked tail. I might as well have walked myself the entire way. Would have been better for my spine." the old man cracked his neck back and forth, a voice that entirely did not match his earlier persona.

He stretched and groaned, long and slow, growing taller in the shadows. With the removal of a simple ring, and coat after coat of padding and layers, he stretches impossibly long. The dead weight of more than just clothing shed.

Under the fat suit and illusion magic, stood not just a thin frame but a young one.

It was far from that of a child or teenager, the ripples of tight muscle underneath fair skin was that of a fully grown adult male. But its pristine flawless state was something of beauty to most the world, as smooth as silk wrapped marble.

He seemed to have doubled in height, shadows creating a willowy and fearfully long frame.

Though the outside inn and hall was modest, behind this door and another was a surprisingly luxurious space.

The well trained butler said nothing, his service and attention to detail speaking for more than any words could. A set of steaming bowls, scented in different flower petals and herbal mixtures was already laid out for the master's return. A fluffy warm stack of towels by the side.

"I wouldn't say it was a challenge. Compared to what my family usually puts me through, it was practically a vacation. But it certainly was an experience to play such a character for so many days. An uncouth and frankly bit pathetic commoner that people would more than like to forget the next day." he spoke as he washed up.

First his hands, goop of mud and skin colored paste peeling off. Wrinkles and spots melting away to reveal long fingers stretching out, of the same alabaster smoothness. He finished speaking to practically dunk his face down for a thorough wash.

Rose water dripped from the gray beard. Without even wiping, he reached for the prepared silver shaving kit. Knife first.

"Light? My Lord." the butler offered it by turning on various small lamps.

They shined with a mysterious color, filtered through expensive glass. Low and hazy, almost like a bloody sunset.

"No need. I don't need my eyes for something so simple." he sighed, knife slicing into his face.

The skin scraped and finally peeled with a popping sound. Oxygen breaking into the seal. His hands were working downwards on removing the fake beard and chin first, but it was the bald cap that threatened to slip off at the pop.

Blood seemed to flow out of it, only to hang short of his shoulder. Bloody red tresses of smooth rich hair. His revealed neck now long, eerily elegant, and swanlike. It was a neck that many had their eyes on through the years, for whatever purposes.

"…the reports do little justice to what I saw first hand."

"Apologies, my Lord. I shall first and foremost inform the forces for internal redevelopment."

"Please do, I suspect a leak if not many. But it can't be helped in this territory. …I saw my sister, shameful thing. The rumors should be spreading to the public soon. If it wasn't enough she 'lost' another husband, she has to fight the accusations against his actual heir family. What a headache. And what does she do at this time? Run off to play." The shaving knife scraped evenly, hands perfectly controlled and steady even as his complaints fluctuated.

"Shall the rumors be suppressed?" the butler had a strange glint in his eyes, even through his service.

"There's no use suppressing the obvious. The matters of her affair with the younger son though, we could certainly do without that. Lend her our aid in that department. At least Valentia is self aware enough to handle most of those matters herself. Gemma on the other side of the coin… well there's nothing more that can be said." he glanced down on the knife, scraping it clean against the side of the bowl.

He seemed to stare at it contemplating, a glimpse of high features and glaringly golden eyes that still reflected back against the knife's surface. Before he dunked the whole thing in the water, the blurry image sunk and gone. The watery reflection scattered and covered in floating rose petals.

"How typical ... .that all the hard dirty work falls to my hands once more." he leaned down, face nearly parallel to the bed of flowers.

The tip of his nose brushed the surface gently, like a butterfly's kiss...then drowns.

"All work is filthy. It is my Lord that makes it into something worth its shine. " the old butler bows reverently, even though no one sees.

His master finishes washing, water dripping from long jointed hands and darkening the youthful red of his hair. In these silent lights, he resembles his late fearsome Father. Far more so than his older brother, who most others clamor as the carbon kin. That true heir, because of course he is.

But the old butler knows who really took after the late Lord Stephano Bicchieri, their master beyond. He's served for that long. Peace be his soul where it did not come in life.

The Grand Matriarch of house Bicchieri, Lady Cordula would take no such talk. Her cold grasps were deep and so rooted not even all their young masters and ladies combined could change it. So it could only linger on the mind. All their minds.

This is not the time or place of such contemplations, though they are always in the back of one's mind. The old master was no more, and his young master stood tall and grown in his rightful place, ready to be served.

"There was also our Isabel, our Prima Donna, sneaking around like a fat thief with her illegitimate son. I don't know what sort of idiots they're fooling but the world is full of them... That's enough with the busybody gossip, I'm not my dear wife. I trust she's been well. No need to update me on her otherwise, as she's most likely done nothing but roll around comfortably in her chamber robes, avoiding work, while crying and cursing dramatically in my absence. "

The butler's silence was enough of a confirmation, exactly as predicted. He simply offered a plush chair and set to pour the wine.

"No, no not that one. I'm going to need something stronger to get the bitter taste of disparity out of my mouth." the man waves, stretching out in his seat with a sigh. Elegant long limbs and delicate fingertips somehow made the action look graceful rather than sloppy. Like a languid cat with little to no care for your mortality.

"Of course, my Lord." the butler simply switched out the expensive wine for an even more expensive spirit.

"On a lighter note, there were some fascinating little objects for adoption. It's almost adorable what makes and keeps commoners happy. I nearly hold myself to the impossible standard of self-reflection in not being able to think of it myself much earlier. There was even that infamous dish, 'pizza pie' as they so call it. A tad underwhelming but I suppose I see why the children and children minded adore it." He spoke simply, accepting the glass easily.

As if his mind wasn't already swirling at a pace faster than the liquor. It swirls mesmerizingly, aged to complex perfection. Like any good liquor, any good plan, it's set out to let breathe.

"What a happy place. Cheerful faces. A land not necessarily of splendor but of growing something worse, hope. A family that sits head and center of it all, more perfect than any picture. How vulgar, such simple happiness." he contemplates, finally taking a long slow sip, relishing the numbing burn of liquor.

"As is your own, my Lord." the butler responds smartly, decanter at the ready.

The Lord almost laughs. Almost.

"Tch, who do I look like? Frederick?"

Silence follows, as does a low mocking smile laced with cognac. Lips thinned to lies, yet still so sparkling in promises. Paired with those golden eyes, power hidden in a way that pure brute force simply couldn't hide.

"Of course not." The butler chuckled and poured. "..but admittedly more so than your elder brother."

That did not please the man but he gave up on the facts. For that's what they were, pure facts.

Domenico, the dreary elder brother was the one who took after their Father's strength and fame, the one to inherit it all.

The Bicchieri main name, the power, the darkness. It was all for him. The rest could only work in the shadows. The branches, the support. Serpents that sacrifice to make a whole.

Or so…it was supposed to go.

"Tch, if there is nothing else then I'd like to at least finish my drink. We set out shortly." he downed the rest of the glass in a shot. Though he didn't stop the refill from pouring either.

"Of course. Everything is prepared and on schedule for your return. The entire household awaits you and your instruction, my Lord."

Giacobbe Francis stood up to his full height, still rolling the kinks and soreness from his limbs. He could simply turn it off and ignore it but that was rather counterintuitive to his own health. Sure he was getting on in the years, but a Bicchieri couldn't fall behind now. Could he?

"Send word of preparation to my men and the ships, Carlton. I think it's time we paid my dear younger brother a real heart-to-heart visit. After all, it's my job to be the hypocritical one. Ready the ports, at sea."

"...of course, my Lord. "

The lights dim and disappear.

The next time sunlight touches this place, it is but a plain room in a tiny inn on the outskirts of a little border town. Nothing more, nothing less.

There's nothing to be seen, in a place like this.

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