Leave it to Veit to keep me waiting when the day has finally come.

Malwine grumbled, alone, after what felt like an eternity of sitting on this stool, treating the island counter of Veit's miniature kitchen as her desk while she lounged like a lazy student. If she didn't think he was simply delayed, she'd have accrued some more [Toll] to rummage through his pantry. Ancient foreign foresters were bound to have some interesting cooking habits.

Imagining how he might have access to rare spices or the like—nevermind that she'd yet to find out what the norms for cuisine were around here—and just generally focusing on her recent cooking endeavor were all she could do to keep herself from thinking about the pink elephant in the room.

Namely, that being idle as her double just made her all the more eager to check on her real self… and she didn't need to remember Veit's words on the matter to want to keep her distance from any action even remotely related to splitting her consciousness.

Too fucking freaky.

It didn't help that she was genuinely tired by now. Her double had always been something to be used as a tool, and her experimentation with it had been admittedly limited. For all she knew, allowing herself to fall asleep would cause the double to collapse—if she could even get that close to sleeping as a double in the first place. Otherwise, she would have been napping then and there. If Veit had a problem with that, he should have simply arrived sooner.

When the telltale signs of the forester's arrival became visible, Malwine straightened. It wouldn't do to have a serious conversation while maintaining the posture of a leaning tower.

Veit stepped through the kite-shaped portal of glass and color with an admittedly graceful hop, not running into anything on the cramped space. He acknowledged her with a nod as the portal collapsed in on itself.

"Malwine Rīsanin," he greeted. They'd barely talked since their 'argument', but it wasn't as if their relationship could get any worse. Not while they had an agreement, at any rate.

It took a great deal of self-control for her not to whisper "Niemat Khödan!" then and there. "Hello, Veit. Did you find it?"

"For better or worse," the forester threw his head back, seemingly willing to ignore all tensions just to get something off his chest—which was perfectly understandable, as far as Malwine was concerned. "I confess I knew not the specifics of what I would deliver to you, beyond the certainty that my father must have owned something that could be of use to you."

"You had that much confidence in him?" Malwine asked, a bit too eager to obtain even the barest crumbs of additional backstory on her on-and-off teacher. The man made so many off-hand remarks with little to no context that she just couldn't help herself. For one, every single detail he mentioned about his father just confused her more. His father was also his guideparent—a fact that was somehow related to his parents' divorce—and seemingly a summoner of some kind, capable of stockpiling ridiculous objects with various uses.

If it existed, that father of his presumably had it and had left it rotting in storage somewhere, no matter what 'it' was, specifically.

Though it had taken time, Malwine had grown to accept the likelihood that Veit would make good on his word.

Now, her patience was paying off.

"I had to visit most homes I remember us having, when I was young," Veit conveniently ignored the question. "Even then, the only Skill book I found with Skills for Forgers had long since lost its power."

Malwine smiled, mostly to reassure herself. "But you still found something?"

"I did," he confirmed. "But I had to go beyond Grēdôcava's borders in the end—Devils, I don't even know which country one of the manors is currently located on."

"You went to other countries and didn't even invite me?" Malwine pouted, eager to get right back to complaining now, even if whatever feelings of familiarity existed between them had slowly stagnated. "It would have been such a great chance for me to see what's out there!"

And get some more spawn points for my double.

With the glare Veit gave her, Malwine found herself wondering if he actually suspected that might be just what she'd have done.

"But seriously," she shook her head. "You couldn't figure something like that out? It sounds… troublesome, to not know."

"It's attached to a volcano far from any settlement, and a cursory search was not enough for me to determine which country—if any—is claiming ownership of that."

While Veit shrugged, Malwine buried her curiosity, and filed that under her growing list of things that could potentially start arguments if she brought them up. It currently ranked somewhere between Adelheid's comments about Alaric's personal life and the lingering implication that her grandfather had a growing kill count.

"So, anyway," she tried her best not to fidget. "Just what did you get me?"

"This."

In a single motion, Veit reached for her. A book appeared in his hand and landed unceremoniously on her lap. Though leatherbound, it had a rustic quality to it, its cover bumpy and uneven in places. Ribbons—most of them blue, but one purple—hung from it, presumably as bookmarks.

Gingerly, Malwine undid the latch that kept it shut, afraid to damage it despite how common it seemed to be for books in this world to have protections in place. She needn't have bothered, as it felt surprisingly sturdy in her hands.

The book looked overstuffed as well. Countless notes appeared to have been slipped between the pages, but she forced herself to start on the first page—the first to have anything written on it, in any case.

As of today, the first day of The Fog of 2058, the Forgers' Guild here has codified into its 'tenets' that none save themselves and their apprentices may hold knowledge or Skills considered proprietary to their line of work.

Naturally, this means I will now begin to document everything I can about them, with special emphasis to proprietary knowledge or Skills, if and when I can gain access to them.

I suppose I shall maintain some modicum of secrecy for the time being. Elisabetha is painfully serious about attaining a better position for herself, and I will refrain from picking fights for her sake. It's not as if I'm about to go out of my way to train rival Forgers here. Not that I couldn't. But I won't.

Let's be honest here. They aren't the first and they won't be the last to decide they can make such a decree. But if they were truly as learned and influential as they believe themselves to be, they wouldn't have gone and issued what might as well have been a personal challenge to me.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Seventh day of The Wind of 3419: They have really gone and repelled this, if a thousand years late. After all my efforts! There goes my pride and joy at my work here.

Another one for the closet.

After reading that—even if it was just a page, front and back—Malwine felt even more vindicated in her persistent opinions. "Veit, your father seems interesting."

That she only got a grumble in response told her all she needed to know. Veit shook his head. "Do you see those blue ribbons? That's when the notes you'll want start—I marked the ones I believe will be of use to you, though you may not be able to get all, depending on how many Skills you've gotten yourself. To my knowledge, there's only one there that you already have."

Too immediately curious to question just how he'd picked some specific Skills out for her, Malwine immediately started flipping the pages, her grip firm on the first of the blue ribbons.

Rarity unknown, [Stylus in Style] under <Word>. Considering these are Forgers I'm dealing with, someone named this Skill with their own two hands, and no amount of reassurances that I just want to talk have gotten me any closer to hunting them down. I really just want to talk.

The Skill seems to revolve around creating a writing implement with which the Forger can write upon the panels of other people. It must presumably be complemented by a Trait or different Skill that grants them access to the panels of non-Forgers in the first place, since I get the impression this is a core tool for their craft and not something they simply use among themselves. That would make little sense.

Malwine felt her eyes light up for about a split second. Did that sound good for a Forger? Absolutely.

But.

She wasn't exactly getting up to panel-editing for other people. She'd barely gotten to panel-editing on her own panels, with her outburst against Elflorescence being the only truly permanent writing of hers, with her uses of [Write Anywhere] almost entirely limited to blank panels.

Speaking of…

Malwine had to hold off from cackling as she went to the next page marked by a ribbon.

Epic, [Write Anything] and [Write Anywhere] under <Word>. Twin Skills originally meant for scribes according to this philosopher I'm quoting.

I knew it! Malwine rejoiced at the validation of her original theory that OBeryl's <Word> Skills had somehow been scribe-related, even if the source for it was admittedly spotty. I haven't really thought about what it might mean for OBeryl to have been a Forger, actually.

In a sense, she'd wanted to know what that would even mean for herself before passing judgment on her ancestor. Shaking her head, she continued reading the entry.

The former allows the user to bend the definition of what constitutes writing in order to include things that hold meaning but are not otherwise considered an example of written language, while the latter makes almost any target location into a valid location for writing. Despite what the rarity might imply, it appears most if not all Forgers have them. Forgery revolves around being able to add to panels, after all. At least from my perspective.

That made enough sense. Despite herself, Malwine could see a picture building in her head. If she managed to get [Write Anything], somehow, could she just edit out the Curse? She doubted that would actually work, but it was as nice to imagine as her attempts with her own Skill had been.

Legendary, [System Eye], <Mind>. A tricky one, but one they were cagey enough about that I just had to examine it. A bit of a misnomer as well, since it seems to refer to a general sense. They don't actually see anything with it. The short of it is that it allows the Forger to get an impression of a Skill's effects behind the scenes, as if they were Visible Status Effects. Few Forgers have it, but the ones that do seem to be among the most prolific. I would guess this relates to how knowing what effects are running beyond what a panel tells us would give anyone an advantage when it comes to Forgery.

That one was quite interesting—she immediately found herself wondering what sorts of overlaps it might have with her other abilities. Something like [Communion], maybe. That rerolled Aspect had been impossible to use, with its requirement that she have 'dominion' over the target Visible Status Effect being even more of a hurdle than [Nosy Old Lady]'s requirements. At least that Skill only required her to be able to manually interpret its output, whereas the Aspect just straight up wouldn't work if she lacked the necessary understanding of the Effect.

"No others?" Malwine raised an eyebrow after she was done reviewing those he'd marked for her.

Veit shook his head. "You can keep it, and take any that interest you down the line. My knowledge on the matter is limited, but from what he's written there, I gathered those should be your first Skills for Forgery."

"I could get all remaining three," Malwine admitted. He knew she'd had three Skills under <Word> before he'd given her the imprint for [The Way of the Clave], and two more Skills would simply take up her last Skill slots for that category—if she'd only had 6 slots, that was. She supposed getting all of them wouldn't hurt even if she didn't see the immediate use for the first. "Quick question, though… How, exactly, am I supposed to get these?"

"Purple ribbon," Veit told her with a shrug. He seemed ever so slightly annoyed, in a impersonal way. Malwine suspected it might have been at his father, though she couldn't guess why.

As she flipped the pages, a veritable avalanche of pieces of paper—almost as thick as cardboard—slipped out. Mildly panicked, she struggled to return them to the book, trying and failing to keep them there as she noticed they'd been on just the page she was looking for.

…Actually, I can guess why.

Resigned to having to split her limited lap-space between the book and a pile of paper, Malwine turned to the words on the page the ribbon marked.

Now, I've said before and I will say it again: I'm not out here telling others how to become Forgers just because I could. I'm not that type of person, and Elisabetha would have words with me if I did.

On an unrelated note, I left several preloaded imprints somewhere in this journal. I sort of got tired of them, because they kept falling everywhere. They happen to be missing some words, and there might be people out there with the necessary abilities to fill in the blanks.

It's a shame, really, since any Forger in the making could just go and use those to give themselves any of those Skills I've documented here. It's quite irresponsible of me, but imprints are too hard to dispose of. I can't justify damaging the environment like that. However, since I've kept this within the safety of my home, I know this is just needless worrying on my part. No one is going to grab any of those imprints, fill in the blanks, and take any of the Skills the Forgers' Guild has risked life and limb to keep from going mainstream.

Malwine narrowed her eyes. Interesting or not, the man had to work on his plausible deniability. Then again, this certainly read like outright bait for anyone who might be on the side of that Guild. "Wait, Veit—there's a Forgers' Guild?"

"Not anymore, there isn't."

"…Okay."

Not wanting to poke that sleeping giant right now, Malwine refocused on the papers on her lap. They appeared blank, but the moment she focused on one, she got a familiar prompt—if one missing a few words.

[--------------------] Imprint

Brought forth by Aitel Khödan

Grants the user [--------------------] Skill.

Holy shit. It really is that simple?

Granted, she didn't know what type of work went into making 'imprints', and something told her these were presumably meant to just work with what was on this book, but… if she kept these around, did that mean she could just give herself Skills? Give anyone Skills?

Even if becoming a Forger properly would presumably give her the same ability, there was something slightly overwhelming about knowing just how many possibilities might be tied to the tiny slip of paper between her fingers.

Malwine grinned. She knew she'd be more than annoyed by them not being next to each other, since she had taken [The Way of the Clave], but she found she only cared at a superficial level. She was far too overjoyed for it to truly matter.

Focusing on the blanks, Malwine whispered with that voice that wasn't a voice. "[Write Anything]."

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