The fact that she understood just why Veit couldn't personally start teaching her right now didn't curb her annoyance in the slightest. With The Forgetting's arrival, guests for the wedding had started to make their way to the estate, and ensuring their safe passage to the guest houses apparently fell squarely under 'forester duties'.

Grumbling, Malwine turned another page on the book, with it laying flat on her bed. Even alone in her room—well, save for Adelheid who might have been in a corner at any point in time—she didn't want to risk getting too comfortable with her instinctive usage of [Remote Reading]. The habit of at least pretending to flip the pages was one she had to try and keep.

Does Grēdôcavan have a syllabary instead of an alphabet just for funsies? She hadn't really batted an eye at it when she'd first found that manuscript with the seafarer script—languages having differences was par for the course. But when she'd asked just why this thing had an alphabet—a question that admittedly sounded dumb as she recalled it outside its original context—he'd told her that was normal.

Yet as much as she wanted to treat her new native tongue's apparent quirk as a personal affront, there were ultimately bigger concerns for her—namely, she was working on a time limit now. A trivial one, strictly speaking, but one nonetheless.

As the time for Thekla's wedding approached, more and more resources would be diverted for it. From what she'd overheard, at some point the family would even be expected to participate in rehearsals. Even if all the kids had to do was hand over their gifts, it'd likely eat into at least a bit of her time, and she couldn't actually excuse zoning out for it. Her aunt seemed nice enough, and Malwine did want to put some effort into not ending up being as terrible a relative as some of her new family members were being to her.

The widow would have been proud.

… valley … the …

It was slow work—the book Veit had gotten her was more than a dictionary, though she didn't know the exact term for it. It came with some supplementary reading material that had her scratching her head, no matter how 'simple' it was supposed to be.

At the end of the day, the widow had been raised fully bilingual. While she had learned countless words and studied many languages, her grasp on them had been utterly circumstantial—it left the task before her feeling way more daunting than it had any right to, even after learning Grēdôcavan and getting a glimpse of the seafarer script.

Still, with how thorough this seemed to be, by the time she was done, Malwine feared she might end up with a better understanding of the underlying rules for this than what she had for Grēdôcavan itself. Even with how limited her chances at social interaction had been in her earliest years, she'd still learned most of it almost instinctively.

But for this? She'd have to do it wholly on her own. Her languages Skill could only do so much, as she actually had to learn for any of it to matter.

[The Plurilingual Psyche]

All that exists is connected, and languages are no exception. Strain of learning new languages greatly reduced. Language comprehension is enhanced. Learned words and their context carry a chance of improving your intrinsic grasp on grammar rules and nuance.

Interdependent to attributes. Interdependent to attributes. Trait: None Aspect: [Understanding]. Efforts to comprehend anything under the purview of your Skills may provide marginal benefits so long as the attempt isn't a complete failure.

Malwine knew her progress wouldn't have been anywhere near this noticeable without her forty levels on it, but this language was annoying her in a way even Grēdôcavan hadn't.

Speaking of that… What is this language called? Èssenhauseran? No, that doesn't sound right…

She'd have to ask Veit later, because the book itself conveniently neglected to mention that, at least in its first sections. For whatever it was worth, Malwine was pretty sure this had to be something he got somewhere, instead of it being yet another of his father's creations—it wasn't anywhere near as arbitrary ranty to be one.

Oh! Malwine found her train of thought disrupted as she skimmed past the supplemental material again, the image of the text clear in her head as she compared it to the definitions she also had access to. The word next to valley… I saw that somewhere… Here.

She grinned like a fool—she honestly had no idea why the material's examples were talking about a 'candle valley', but her joy at understanding anything, no matter how inane, overshadowed all other considerations.

It seemed her Skill agreed, too.

Your [The Plurilingual Psyche] Skill has improved! 40 → 41

Her only complaint about this all would have been how nothing short of maxing this particular Skill would net her a full level, but it hardly mattered—if she actually succeeded at learning whatever the Èssenhaüser language was called, she'd get to read the inscriptions on those graves. Malwine knew herself too well to think she could simply let that drop—from the moment she'd realized the Memorial contained a cemetery, she'd known she'd have to learn this.

Veit had even offered to read any she wished aloud to her but… it wouldn't have been the same thing. There was something vaguely nostalgic about the mere idea of wandering the cemetery and trying to see what she could learn of those memorialized there—maybe because of the widow's memories, maybe because of who she was as a person. Hell, it might even have been {Legacy} playing its part.

It just wouldn't be right if she didn't get to experience that joy of discovery for herself.

And to do that, Malwine had to give this her best.

Admittedly, not all her time went into trying to learn what she was tentatively dubbing 'probably Èssenhaüseran'. Avoiding burnout while making the most of her drive was basically a balancing act, and she'd never quite been the best at that.

The only real silver lining there was how preparations for Thekla's wedding had eaten into their lessons—Hildegard gathered them once a week, at most. Any other time, Malwine might have complained about her schedule changing, but having additional free time suited her right now.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

If it came to that, she'd just complain later.

As it stood, she was pretty sure she'd been splitting her training time fairly evenly. When she wasn't trying to make the most of [The Plurilingual Psyche]—which she would consider her favorite <Mind> Skill until it served its purpose—she was wandering the Memorial as her double. Studying turned out to be a decent use of her time as she waited for her accrued [Toll] to drop, and as much as it sucked to see the occasional carving she still couldn't make sense of, the whole point of sending her double off had been to raise her Skills… the original point, in any case.

Malwine would have been lying if she said she wasn't curious about the 'echoes'—not to mention, what would a Memorial to a Devil even stand for? They were supposedly timeless existences. Objects. She'd tried asking Veit, and all she'd gotten for her efforts were a shrug and some of the most suspicious topic-changing comments she'd heard from him so far. If he didn't want to speak of {Vanagloria}, she wouldn't push.

Their relationship flip-flopped between strained and useful often enough as it was.

She'd yet to earn herself another level, despite her initial hopes. It probably didn't help that she'd gotten better at running off before the echoes hit her, but having to reform her double so often had gotten annoying—she had to adapt. Besides, she had the leeway to test different strategies to try and see which approach would help her Skills the most.

A part of her wondered if dealing with her Debuff might be necessary, but she tried her best to convince herself to ignore it. It was something she'd have to deal with sooner or later, sure—and Malwine was quite the fan of later.

With a huff, she refocused on her double. While she'd been trying to avoid the niches until she could read them, curiosity had been gnawing at her.

Just what would be inside one, when people in this world didn't leave bodies behind?

She just had to find out… as soon as she figured out how to look through the stone.

This felt many times harder than solidifying her double to grab things or to strengthen her presence within the Memorial, despite how counterintuitive the mere idea sounded. If using her double to interact with the world increased the cost of her ability, shouldn't the opposite have lowered it? This feels like a scam.

Through her grumbles and failed attempts, Malwine did eventually relent and check with [System Eye]—the impression the Skill gave her of this aspect of [Earthless Glory] immediately pissed her off, the knowledge just growing her annoyance even if it did explain certain things.

It seemed the Skill, too, had a balance to maintain. From the second she got the Skill, Malwine had somewhat instinctively understood her doubles had to be visible, even if they failed to be tangible. In the same sense she knew they didn't have to be humanoid, it was one thing she tried not to think too much into. The implications had always felt like they'd be a pain in the ass to process.

…Not that she had much of a choice now.

Touching objects, applying pressure, solidifying her form—all those things made her accrue [Toll] faster because her double was having an effect on the world around her. Failing to touch something cost her nothing, but trying to outright toe the line between being there and not was a different story. There was no illusion of normalcy to maintain here, no worries about being discovered if her hand ever accidentally passed through something.

No, the problem was that making her head pass through just enough of the stone to see what was inside should have been simple, yet three days later, Malwine had yet to pull it off. Come on, I just want to see what's inside.

There was barely any sensation attached to the attempt itself, no more than dipping her face on something… flowing, like water yet not. And even that was something she got secondhand, with her double's state.

As much as Malwine wanted to hope it was just her inexperience with it talking, she had hoped for an astral projection just for the sake of mobility, so she couldn't exactly deny the feedback she'd gotten when she looked into [Earthless Glory]—this kind of deliberate intangibility was even more of an uphill battle than partial solidification was.

…I already hate that I want to evolve this. She'd have to put more thought into it, beyond letting her current annoyance influence her, but evolving [Shieldwork] had been a pain. She wasn't looking forward to what doing the same for [Earthless Glory] would take, and she wasn't at the point where she'd dare use Forgery on a Skill she outright needed.

After yet another day of language studies and dubious Skill usage, Malwine pulled it off. Somewhat. Her control was far worse than it had been for touching things, but she'd only accidentally slipped past the entirety of the niches once.

Pressing her palms against stone, Malwine made a show of taking a deep breath with her double, if only for her own sake. She wasn't solidified entirely—couldn't be—and with closed eyes, she leaned forward, holding most of her form in place. How she rested the tip of her chin upon the stone within the niche was something she'd firmly categorized under 'things that will hopefully never need to be explained to anybody else', mostly because even she barely understood how she was making this work by now.

When she opened her eyes to darkness, her heart leapt in her real chest—all this effort, and this still wasn't letting her see what was inside? Fucking hell. Had she really gone and finally managed to look within, only to be held back by something as stupid as the lack of a light source? Her double didn't even have real eyes!

A moment later, she understood that—as was usual—she might have been overreacting. Her technically nonexistent gaze sharpened slowly as it adjusted, no longer flooding her vision with static darkness. Malwine started to perceive—to see, or perhaps more accurately, to feel as if she were seeing—the faint outlines of a boxed viewed from within. The interior of the niche.

It reminded her of what she felt when Adelheid moved, feedback flowing into her mind from a sense she'd yet to master. Color and shapes formed until her awareness of the contents was enough—though just barely—for her to get a general idea of what laid there.

And it was… broken. That much became immediately clear. There was a presence of decay that felt out of place, dust having somehow accumulated inside what was otherwise a tiny and empty crypt. It shimmered strangely, like ground crystal might. At the center of it all stood the frames of what must have once been a box, with some strange energy radiating from it, unidentifiable yet impossible to ignore.

Malwine made an effort to squint as if it would be of any use, trying to focus on the oddly familiar object. It took her a moment longer to realize it really looked like an obit. The general shape was certainly there, despite its state. Relatively distinct hues—those matching the Mortal Esse—swirled around, blending in with the green of aged copper before even that merged just as smoothly with the remains of something looking suspiciously close to what she'd seen of Core Integration's color.

Will Katrina's look like this someday? The question came to her unbidden, and she had to admit a level of discomfort came from the sight. Something primal within herself was shuddering, as if the whole of this were wrong. She'd thought the obit looked terrible, but it must have endured for far longer than it should have—which of her Affinities was resonating with it, for her to know this, she had no idea. {Vestige}, maybe. But somehow, Malwine could tell this decay had predated its shattering, as if it had been kept from collapsing for longer than it had any right to, and its very power had unraveled before it truly ell apart.

More than ever, she wished she could read the inscription outside, grinding her teeth as she pulled back. The idea that anything at all could somehow rank down was absurd enough that it almost immediately reinforced the feeling that this was all unnatural, before she caught herself.

What am I even thinking? Rules exist to be broken. If there was a way to preserve obits and give people even more time to be resurrected, who was she to decide that was wrong? Still, Malwine found suppressing that feeling was a pain. Something about that kind of preservation went against her implicit understanding of the world—against whichever underlying structure was attached to how people in her new world perceived things—and she didn't like this one bit. Not the preservation itself, but the fact that, for the first time, she felt she had encountered some kind of rule of either reality or the system that she very much did not like.

Half-formed questions shot up to the top of the list of things she'd have to annoy Veit about the next time she got the chance to, but her attention was soon redirected to the notification that awaited her as she dismissed her double.

Your [Earthless Glory] Skill has improved! 13 → 16

Feeling vindicated by her efforts paying off, Malwine grinned. That was even more growth than she'd expected, and it only served to fuel her drive to continue as she was. Sure, it hadn't been easy, but following her instincts had paid off—that had to more than justify following them all the times they hadn't.

Probably.

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