Week Two (2)

Day 6

"You are still terrible at knitting, Master Bellavarn. Are you sure you want to do this yourself? I could do this for you quite simply."

Bellavarn went cross-eyed as his nose came closer to his needle. Knots kept forming, and Bellavarn had to restart twice. He hasn't made any progress, even though he planned on making two. He kept swerving in the wrong direction and had to undo his knots before trying again.

"I disagree. You can do it if you keep trying earnestly. Don't give up. You can do it, Master Bellavarn!"

Two fist pumps of encouragement was the preamble a hesitant admission.

"Ah. Um... you went the wrong way. Again."

Bellavarn confirmed he went in the wrong direction. Again. He would need to undo it. Sighing, he set his work down and rubbed at his hair.

"I now have an immense newfound respect for Ladies everywhere."

"As you should. It isn't as difficult as you are making it out to be. You just have no talent for it."

"Ester!"

"What? I'm not going to pull my words. If he continues like this, he will never make anything usable. Much less in time for his sibling's arrival."

Lannie shook her fists up and down in outrage.

"You could at least be nicer to Master Bellavarn. Look how hard he is trying! He's spent all this time pouring his heart into knitting the blanket himself. It wouldn't mean the same thing if he commissioned one. It would also let the others in on the secret."

Ester whispered the word "secret" conspiratorially. Bellavarn pulled at his collar. Having it laid out so openly by Lannie was embarassing.

"Then why did you bring your brother? I brought you for a reason. Why is he here?

When Ester realized how hopeless he was, she brought in Lannie for moral support, since Ester had poor bedside manners. Her brother Jeral sat on a couch playing checkers with Kerv. Kerv wore a pained look as he witnessed his last king being taken.

"How do you do that!"

"You don't think ahead and only look at the situation in front of you. You are great in head-on confrontations but lose when you fall into traps or forks."

"I have Henry or Bellavarn for that."

"Don't be naive, Kerv, that isn't like you."

"Yeah. Yeah. One more round."

Lannie made an adorable pouting face. Ester was unamused. Bellavarn to the rescue.

"It is fine if he knows. I trust Jeral."

"Your trust in me is not misplaced, Young Master Bellavarn."

Jeral bowed his head before triple jumping Kerv's pieces. Kerv blinked at his stolen pieces and nearly flipped the board. Ester looked mildly mollified. The fact Bellavarn was learning to knit is supposed to be a secret from the Duchess and Duke. But then... why were there over twice as many people as there should be? She folded her arms.

"None of this matters if Bellavarn can't figure out how to knit properly."

"I am sure Master Bellavarn will figure it out in a few more tries. It is Master Bellavarn, after all!"

Ester cringed at the words. Lannie was a pure individual. Jeral was likely here to watch over her and keep her safe. He called over from the checkerboard, converted his second king.

"What seems to be the problem?"

Ester looked back to him and spoke bluntly before Lannie misconstrued things.

"He is too slow and gets caught up on every knot. His hands don't move fluidly enough. It needs to be an unconscious effort, only switching to a conscious one when altering the direction. Since it is just a monochrome blue blanket without designs or embroidery, he shouldn't have to come up for air so often. He is too worried to make a mistake, which causes him to make a mistake. It is infuriating."

Bellavarn was surprised. When she said it like that, it really did sound like all his fault. Whenever it came to drawing or pottery, he looked for the smallest imperfections and fixed them before moving forward. When he was first learning to throw clay on the wheel, he became paralyzed after failing so many times.

Maybe it is all my fault.

"So it is just a problem with not developing a rhythm?"

Ester tilted her head. Rhythm summed it up nicely.

"Mostly. It is all about his mindset."

Jeral nodded as he cornered Kerv's last two pieces. It had been game over for a while, but Kerv still fought on like he could turn things around, betting on the distracted Jeral to make a mistake. Fat chance.

"Checkers is all about rhythm. Yes, there is mild planning, but it really isn't a difficult game. There are limited options. The way I play is I let myself envision the next step before I make it and allow my hand to move the pieces. Maybe, Young Master Bellavarn needs pretend knitting is checkers."

Ester scrunched up her face. Like such an obscured analogy would make any sense.

"What hogwash. Knitting is nothing like checkers. Master Bellavarn, don't listen to him and-"

She cut herself off as she looked at Bellavarn's inspired eyes.

"What? No. I refuse to believe it. That is what made sense to you!"

Bellavarn didn't listen as he picked up his work and started flying. Ester was speechless as Bellavarn entered a fugue state, flying through the process. Lannie beamed wide and ran over to hug her brother. Kerv cursed at another game lost while Jeral smiled knowingly.

Day 7

Bellavarn rubbed his eyes. The paper-bound spell shapes he bought were helping, but they hurt his brain after hours of study. He also needed to make more test spinners. In between that, spending time doing his charity work, errands around the house, knitting, continuing to interact with staff and coming up with future plans. He was running himself ragged.

Kerv wandered off a while ago, saying he wanted to try making something in the workshop by himself. Bellavarn had talked with him about his ideas, helping Kerv work them out. Bellavarn really thought iron would be better, but Kerv seemed driven. If he got a solid product, Bellavarn could try enchanting it as Kerv wanted.

That was why he was lounging on the couch in the library. He laid along its length, holding a book up above him to read. He starting out sitting, but soon morphed into different poses as he became more engrossed in his book.

The book was for fun, not study.

It was a romance tale about a dusky traveler and a barmaid. They met inexplicably and hit it off. Their relationship developed fast and quick; the author made it steamy and heated, including not-safe-for-work content. It was decently written, so Bellavarn didn't skip over the sex scenes like in other books. The main plot points revolve around the barmaid taking care of her sickly mother. She spent nearly all her time working, so meeting someone nice that didn't stare at her ass right off the bat was a pleasant surprise. The fling was thought to be short. After the first night together, she imagined she would never see him again. To her surprise, the traveler came in for lunch the next day.

He was an adventurer who walked across the land and met exciting people. He'd glimpsed amazing views and interacted with famous people. The traveler learned about her mother and her illness, expressing his sympathy. He actually knew of a cure, but was reluctant to share it because of his troubled past. Eventually, after two weeks of steamy romance and heartfelt talks, the traveler decided to help. In the dead of night, he visited his lover's mother and healed her completely.

When the barmaid woke up to an empty bed, she started to fret. When she found no trace of him, she ran over to her mother's home in tears. That was where she found her mother walking and talking again. She interrogated her mother, needing to know what happened. The mother told her daughter about a vision of a man coming to her in a dream and declaring his love for her daughter. He stated that the mother needed to be awake to condone the two of them getting married. She woke up a few hours later, fully healed. Not a soul in sight.

Bellavarn was at the point where he was wondering how the author would end it. Would it be a tragedy or a happily-ever-after? He hoped for the latter. He hated tragedies.

Hopefully, it won't be a cliffhanger...

He turned the page.

"Whatcha reading?"

"Wha-"

*KONK*

"Tsss!"

"Oww..."

Bellavarn hissed, rubbing his noggin. He sat up too fast and impacted someone's head. Only... He didn't see anyone. Craning over the edge of the couch, he saw a squatting form; hands pressed to their forehead. He was surprised to see orange-ginger hair. It didn't match any of the maids he knew, and orange hair was rare.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry, you startled me."

"Ow. Ow. Ow. No. It is my fault. I interrupted you when you were focused. I apologize."

The girl ceased holding her head and stood back up to her full height, which wasn't much, barely past five feet tall. Bellavarn saw the few freckles across the bridge of her nose, dotting her light skin. The girl held a pained smile.

"So. What are you reading? You were very into it."

Bellavarn looked away and at the cover of his book.

"Its-"

Oh no.

This was bad.

I can't tell her that I've been reading a romance novel. One filled with needless smut. It wasn't even why I read it. It was for the story. The story!

His pride as a man was ruined. He sulked as he told her the name.

"It's called the Barmaid's Lover."

She clapped her hands together.

"Oh. OH! I love that book!"

The girl's green eyes were bugging out. Words spilled out of her in a torrent as she made several obscure hand gestures and articulations, explaining her love for the book.

"The way the Herin appears out of nowhere, in such a flash, yet keeps his profile low while unassumingly falls in love with a normal, hard-working girl. The quick development wasn't overdone, being both romantic and honest, and the way he defended Francine from loan sharks was thrilling! That final night filled with confessions and true love made my heart race. And then Herin decided to forgo his troubled past and use the same technique his mentor used to save his life on Francine's mother! The way it ended with-"

"STOP!"

The girl was startled. Bellavarn waved his hands in front of his face.

"You almost spoiled the ending! I haven't had the chance to finish it yet..."

The redhead looked abashed, waving her hands frantically in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, I just got excited; I loved the book, I didn't mean to- I mean, to say that, I am sorry I almost spoiled it. I don't want to be one of those people."

Bellavarn watched her continue for a while before stopping her, standing.

"It's alright. You're safe. You didn't become one of those people."

"Mhm."

She pressed her lips together, looking down, lost in thought. Bellavarn moved around the couch, leaning against the backside. He looked her up and down. She wasn't wearing a maid uniform. Her dress was more cute and colorful. Bright yellow and white. It looked like she was attempting to replace the sun and dry up winter.

Bellavarn wondered who she was, but looking over to the door and seeing at least four familiar heads ducking away, he got the picture.

Mother took longer than I thought.

There were no streamers or cakes either—a blessing.

He only hoped she didn't drill the poor girl before sending her in.

The eyes peeking in were gone, but he was sure there were ears just out of view. Smirking, he decided on his next words.

"I don't believe we've met before. You're not a new maid, are you?"

He smiled conspiratorily as he heard several hushed whispers from a ways away. He thought he could pick out his mother's voice and a subdued scuffle trying to hold her back from entering. The girl looked up at him, slightly confused. Seeing his sardonic smile aimed at the doorway, she thought she understood...

"Ah. I apologize. I haven't introduced myself even though I am in your home."

She came to the realization and curtsied. Her curly hair falling elegantly.

"I am the daughter of Baroness Irune Wyre, April Wyre. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Marquess Bellavarn Sallow."

He blinked. Was that his official title? He wasn't a young duke, but a Marquess? He never had a chance to ask.

Bellavarn decided that he couldn't tease his parents without disregarding the girl in front of him. Standing up to his full height of just over six feet, he looked down at the petite girl. He bowed his back low enough to be right above her eye-level. He gave his most charming smile.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady April."