Sitting at this table now, I recall the first time I was forced to learn the nonsense that was table manners. Forks in the left hand even though I'm right handed, and spoons only used for desserts. You need to excuse yourself for getting food out of your teeth, and always pass everything to the right, and use a wash basin at the beginning and end of each meal which means it's super annoying to try and escape the table. Plus, different countries and levels of nobility have slight, and sometimes extreme, differences in manners, so a pure and steady noble girl needs to know how to adapt based on who is the head of the table. A knife used for support somewhere is actually used to stab the meat elsewhere, and somehow in some places, we throw the bones of the meat behind our seats.

It's like a metaphorical corset on the act of eating, but because that corset is different for everyone else I have to adapt on the fly. It is incredibly stifling.

Yet, despite it all, I have it memorized. Table etiquette is near second nature to this girl, and in this case, I believe I may leave my father absolutely gobsmacked very soon. Because I've had these processes drilled into me countless times, I get that unfortunate routine itchiness in my hand if I don't follow them. If you put utensils in my hand, I will eat like a noble to keep that unpleasant feeling away.

So, although I am nearly drooling, I have not touched my food, for my father has not said that it is time to eat. We've been sitting in silence for five minutes now. What is this man trying to do?

“Aella, you haven't touched your food.”

Neither have you, father! Give me the go ahead!

“It's meat. Cooked finely by the head chef himself. I promise it won't hurt you.*

“...”

We sit for another two minutes. The food is going to be frigid by the time the Duke uses his brain and realizes that I need him to say go.

“By any chance… Are you waiting for me to say that it's time to eat?”

I nod vigorously.

“Wha- Yes, you may eat, Aella.”

Finally. I do know table manners, but I have to get used to gripping the utensils once more. And it's always a little rough as a child because the sizes are disproportionate, but I'll manage.

I start to scope out the meal by carefully using my fork and knife to section off the foods on the plate. I can't quite identify them with magic sense after all. It's a slow set of motions, and I'm careful not to scratch the plate with my utensils. Let's see… we have mashed potatoes, a grain, some greens, and peas, which are the bane of every noble lady’s existence. There's no honey to stick them together either, which means I'll have to discreetly stab them with the prongs of my fork. Wonderful. I feel like flinging one into my father's forehead right about now. And where are the carrots? Maybe they're not in season or something, but the poor peas are surely feeling lonely.

The meat seems to be some sort of steak. It's chewy and flavorful, but also entirely lukewarm because Dear-Father-Who-Can’t-Read-The-Room took forever to take a hint.

“Aella…. Why did you… or rather, how…”

Ah, there it is. The astonishment I was expecting. I do suppose that a child eating as strict as I do would be a shocker. Should I mess with my father a little bit? Maybe I should. It'll be a small act of revenge since he caused this steak to go lukewarm.

I hold up my fork elegantly and then drastically change my grip on it to a whole hand clasp a child would usually work with, and then back to the lighter grip, only to clasp it again and slam the fork violently into my steak.

The table rustles a little bit from the slam, but I'm not done, and I quickly shift back into noble lady mode and continue as if nothing had happened. I don't hear the Duke’s utensils scraping against the plate or his chewing. I'm not sure if he's eaten anything yet, but it seems like he’s still mentally processing my actions. Heh. Your steak is definitely going to be cold. In this frigid weather, you may as well sprinkle snowflakes on your meal as a garnish if you don't eat your food fast enough.

“Aella, were…  you trying to show off? Where did you even learn to eat food properly?”

I learned from you actually, and that annoying aunt of mine, but if I say that I think your current mental state might not be able to handle it.

Instead I give the most disappointing answer I could give. A simple shrug.

“Aella that doesn't help me at all.”

It's not supposed to.

“Pardon me a moment, Aella, I wanted to talk to you about some things, but I need to check something first.”

The Duke rings a bell and I hear four sets of footsteps enter the room. I hear the voice of the older butler.

“Your Grace, did you need anything?”

“Winfred, watch my daughter eat her food.”

“...Pardon?”

“The rest of you do the same. Look at how she eats.”

When did this become a performance? I'm halfway through my meal, and now you want people to watch me? If I wasn't being polite I would have eaten both my food and my father's meal already and walked out the door in record time.

Well, I guess I can try and play a guessing game on who walked in while I eat. I'm not going to break my manners just because I have people staring at me. I'm more than used to the pressure of other's eyes at this point.

Let's see, to the Duke's right is the old man. And I can sense that bastard Sebas next to the old man, farther in that direction. Pattern recognition and my mana sense leads me to believe that the other two that stand to the Duke's left are the clever maid and young maid respectively. Are those maids going to be common faces? I don't exactly recall them being too prevalent in my other lives. The old man is always a constant, and the bastard Sebas has varying degrees of importance depending on if my father dies or not. If these maids are important, then I suppose I should raise their ranks in the part of my brain that stores relevant information.

The room remains silent as I finish my meal. Pardon my napkin usage, I guess.

“Your Grace… it seems the young lady is more refined then we gave her credit for.”

“But how, Winfred? There was no possible way she could have learned that.”

“I can't answer that, Your Grace. As it remains there are still too many unknowns about her to determine the reasons behind her behaviors.”

This conversation between the butlers and the Duke goes on for a good five minutes. They wildly speculate on the first seven years of my life and hypothesize about the books I've read and how I even read them in the first place.

Of course, everything they theorize is wrong. It's interesting to hear their wild speculations at least. But once again, it seems the bewilderment of the adults around me trumps their logical sense. Should you really be spouting all this out in front of the very child you are talking about? Also, the maids have been silently standing nearby for this whole ordeal. I'm sure they have work to do, dismiss them to their duties already.

And yet the nonsense continues. Why won't you just stick a fork in it?

Well, I'll take charge for now I suppose. Risking that itchiness in my hands, I grab my fork and hold it like a dart. My mana pulse won't work here, so I simply have to go off of the distance of the table that I remember. Right now my father and I are seated at the opposite ends of the table, so this should be a straight shot.

Take a deep breath, flow some mana into your wrist… and throw! I hear a squelch from the steak and a resounding thud from the table. That's two times I've slammed forks into the steak today. The three men go silent and I can feel everyone looking at my father's plate and myself, just from my body's natural instinct.

“Aella…?”

I make eating motions with my hands and then point to the Duke. Stop worrying about me and eat your food already. I then point to myself and make an X with my arms.

“Ooh, Your Grace, I think Lady Aella is saying that you should eat your food! But I don't know what the X was for…”

Thank you, young maid. But silent thanks is all you get.

“Hmm, I think my daughter is a little bit more greedy than that. You want my food too, don't you Aella? You were saying that you'll eat it if I don't? Here. Take the plate.”

Father, I swear, the next time I stick a fork in something, it'll be your eyes. Why does your logic take a sharp nosedive when the subject is me?! Your cold and calculating persona erases around me and I have no idea why. The Duke slides over the plate across the table, which is surprisingly slippery on its surface, and I hear the plate approaching me. Huh? Is there not a tablecloth? There isn't… Why? This plate sounds like it's going really fast.

The plate continues to slide… right off of the table, spilling all of its contents onto me. Ah. Wonderful. The food is now cold, so I didn't need to fear the heat of the meal anyways, but this could have been entirely unavoidable.

I purposely contort my face into a blank stare.

“Ah…”

That's all you have to say, Duke?

“Lady Aella, I can help you get washed up if you come with me!”

Just a minute, young maid. I'm going to use any opportunity I can to get back at my father right now, and that includes flinging this cold meal right back at him. Directing mana into my fingers, I grab a fistfull of my father's cold meal off my lap, and I wrap it together with mana threads. I am going to fling much more than a pea at his forehead. The fork is my catapult, and with my strengthened fingers I easily warp the fork backwards, creaking the metal so that it bends back, begging to be released.

“Lady Aella?!"

Bon appetit, dear father. I let go and the food flies away. I hear a splat. Did I hit him?

“Your Grace…”

“It seems Lady Aella considered your sharing a threat, Your Grace. I can sense her mana fluctuating.”

Ah, was that the clever maid talking? I guess the exasperated reaction was the bastard Sebas then. It matters not, I'm about to fling this meal at all of them. The fork has served its purpose and has passed on to the next life. Rest well, soldier. I guess I'll just use my hands.

No one is safe from the assault, I hear the yelps from the two butlers and the young maid, but the clever maid just sighs and doesn't even try to dodge. My father eventually breaks away from his stupor and I sense him wiping his face. So the fork shot did hit him. Nice.

“That's enough, Aella! I didn't mean to attack you!”

Ah, but father, you gave me the opportunity to mess around again, I'm actually quite content. I promise I'll calm down after today, though I guess you have no way of knowing that.

He quickly picks me up and swats away any remaining food I might have taken.

“Calm down, Aella, let's calm down!”

Yeah, yeah. The food fight was a nice distraction while it lasted I suppose.

“Are you fine now, Aella? It was not my intention to throw my food at you like that. I was under the impression that you wanted to eat more. I clearly went about it the wrong way.”

I just give him another blank stare.

“Alright, I understand. You're frustrated, aren't you? That's what that look means, right? We're going to need a stronger way to more accurately communicate with each other. For now, let's just get you cleaned up. Wimberley, Winona, prepare a bath for my daughter please.”

Ah, those were the maids’ names. Going by their response it seems Winona is the young maid, and Wimberley is the clever one.

Winfred, the bastard Sebas, Wimberley, and Winona. I guess I'll try not to forget their names. The bastard Sebas sticks out like a sore thumb here too. He's the only person without a W in their name.

It's not long before I find myself in a bathroom, with the two maids accompanying me. I did dirty them as well, so I assume they're here to clean more than just me.

Wimberley takes off my clothes and I hear a double gasp. Ah, the scars and burns and all that must have thrown them off. I suppose it's more extreme than the two initially thought. My burned face doesn't exactly give away everything now, does it?

“Oh goodness… Lady Aella, you must have been through so much… Winona and I will take care of you to the best of our abilities. Let's get you bathed.”

I remember the bathroom. The bathing area is quite extravagant. Most noble houses in this world simply have tubs near the noble's rooms. The maids wash them accordingly and only the noble gets undressed. The tubs tend to be small and serviceable, but regardless they are entirely a luxury.

My father, as the Duke, can get quite a lot more than that. The bathing area is more akin to a bathhouse, with large baths encouraging multiple people to enter at once. The knights and servants are allowed to use it, but if the Duke or myself intend to enter, it is to be cleared for our enjoyment. Of course the Duke and I have tubs as well, if we do want to use them.

Throughout many lives I've bathed here with my attendants, maids or knights or otherwise, so when I'm slowly led into the bath and I don't hear the splashes of two other people, I'm a bit confused. Get in here already, you two.

I wade further inwards, and Winona speaks up.

“Ah, Lady Aella! If you go too far in we won't be able to reach you.”

I make a beckoning motion. Don't let me stop you from a bath.

“You want us to join you, Lady Aella?"

I strengthen my beckoning motion. It's not like I could see you two anyways.

“Winona, let us do as she says.”

They join me in the middle of the bath. See? Much easier. No need for kneeling on hard tile, and we don't need to fill the buckets with any water. 

Winona adds a bath salt to the equation, and I feel some flower petals float by. Before becoming this girl, I never really did take much baths at all, showers are and still are much more efficient. But admittedly a bath can be relaxing.

Wimberley starts to wash my back. I can feel her being gentle and precise with how she takes care of it. Her hands feel aged. She's likely older than I originally thought she was. Winona takes my hands and starts to methodically tend to them with care. For a child, she is quite capable.

“Lady Aella, did you have fun earlier, when we played tag?”

So you truly did think of that as a game then. A child will still be a child after all.

I almost nod yes to her question, since I think saying yes will end the conversation earlier, but I recall that my father wanted a better way to communicate. A child learns faster than an adult does, so maybe I can use Winona here to work out some sort of communication system.

I do know that some sort of sign language exists in this world, but that isn't exactly helpful when I don't know it. Writing down what I want to say would be more accurate, but I historically have terrible handwriting. Plus, it's kind of impossible to write on paper in the bath, isn't it? Being blind will only make the writing worse anyways.. And in terms of verbal communication… while I technically can talk, there's something in me that's stopping me from doing so. It's nearly been half a year since this life started, and I haven't uttered a single word. Maybe it's a result of my innate desire to detach myself from this world yet again. It's easier to move on from things when your interactions end up being limited.

Either way, I'm not comfortable speaking. So it's not happening.

So, considering all my stubbornness and the futility of some other options, I'm only really left with magic. Now I need to determine how exactly I use my mana to communicate. Writing in the air while leaving a trace of the letters is flashy, but would get old fast. Since I can't use any sort of incantation or invocation as a Sincavage, most other options are a bust too.

There's a favorable answer to this problem somehow, I just need to ponder it a little more…

“Uh, Lady Aella, are you feeling alright?”

Ah. I was so wrapped up in my impromptu thinking that I must have zoned out and left Winona hanging.

“Oh! Did I startle you? I felt a little mana surge from you, Lady Aella, haha.”

A reflexive surge of mana. A common trait for those who do have mana, some physicians even use those reflexive surges in their checkups.

Wait. Hold on a second. Isn't this a perfect way to communicate? If I teach Winona to recognize patterns in my mana, I'm sure we'd be able to have full conversations eventually. If I surge it to just under a release, and keep it dull, it shouldn't pose a problem. It'd feel like a sort of rumble against Winona's own mana channels, and I can probably create patterns for letters and words, almost like Morse code. I have no idea how Morse code functions mind you, so this would be the creation of an entire fundamental system.

Hm. It sounds like a nice project to pass the time, but it's clear that overall it would be a waste. A month from now I won't see Winona ever again. I just shoot her a thumbs up and close my eyes as Wimberley starts to wash my hair. We soon move to the edge of the bathing area so that the two can work on my legs. Wimberley isn't afraid to wash where she needs to, but Winona keeps pausing every time she comes across an injury or scar. Well, in the end seeing things like this will be more experience for her, I suppose.

It takes a few more minutes and we've finally reached the soaking phase. Essentially, I just stay put in the bath for however long I want. In my first life I commonly became a living raisin by staying in comfort for too long. As I get sequentially older I realize that the soaking phase sweet spot is 2 to 5 minutes. Stay any longer and eventually the water gets lukewarm, and the excess of comfort leaves you feeling more groggy than refreshed. And today, I still have a few hours to do what I want, so I'm not gonna waste my time here.

Splashing my face with water one last time, I stand up and hold my hands out. As I am now, I am a walking trip hazard, to myself and others. Even in here, the building materials are cleansed of mana. I'd rather not crack my head open by slipping.

I feel two hands of different sizes grab the hands I've held out. Wimberley has my left and Winona has my right. …No one's moving? Then a simultaneous tug from both hands.

“Winona, dear, you can let go of Lady Aella, she only needs one person to help her out of the bath.”

“Aww, but don't you think it would be easier if she exited with someone her own size? Lady Aella listens to the way people step and things like that right? It'd be easier if she walked with me!”

…You two realize that we're all going to the same place anyways, right? Whatever, I squeeze Wimberley’s hand to show that I choose her. If I have to pick someone, I trust the adult woman more here.

As we walk out and get dressed, I think of these two maids, and the staff of the estate in general. They are surprisingly well informed of my existence and general demeanor. It's odd, knowing that the staff have a general context of me… and it's even weirder that it seems a bit blown out of proportion sometimes. I can only assume that there was some sort of debriefing about my existence to the staff in the time that I was knocked out, and I was presented in a questionable way, or the staff took some things too literally.

I'm not quite sure where we are heading now, but Wimberley insists on holding my hand. Listen, I may fall down some stairs occasionally, but I don't need that much literal hand holding. My father did that too. Truly an annoying habit of adults. Winona brings me out of my thoughts.

“Lady Aella, I really wanted to walk together, you should definitely pick me next time! My grandma has probably done this a billion times with-”

“Winona.”

“Ah! Right. Sorry Grandma.”

Ahh, so these two are related. Winona's quiet again, but I can safely assume that she's pouting.

“Please excuse Winona, Lady Aella. She gets excited very easily, but it was decided that she would serve you for a number of reasons. Winona is your age, and she also has access to wind magic, which can help catch you reliably if you ever fall. And, although she can't quite indirectly detect fluctuations of mana, she is incredibly sensitive to mana when she physically touches something filled with magic. Winona reminds me of my younger self, and if I may boast a bit, I would always count on my younger self, hahaha.”

To be fair, Winona has proved herself capable so far. That little mention of her mana sensitivity has also peaked my interest. I know I said to myself that I wouldn't try that surge communication system, but that comment gives me the desire to try it anyways.

Hm. I'll sleep on it.

…Apparently that was literal. Somehow I'm now being tucked into my bed by Wimberley, and Winona is getting shooed out of the room by her too. It's barely the afternoon, why am I here?

“Ah, are you confused? Your father informed us to bring you to your bed. Apparently, you were up reading all night, Lady Aella. You shouldn't do that again. Proper rest is really important! If you want, you and Winona can talk about some books tomorrow. For now, just rest well.”

This is becoming a pattern isn't it? People bringing me to bed or making me fall asleep without me actually wanting to sleep in the first place. My months in the forest and mountains have likely shattered any semblance of a good sleep schedule for this life. And oddly enough, the softness of the bed, initially nice to lay on, is quickly becoming strange. I daresay the hard floor might be more comfortable for me. This wasn't a problem in my previous lives. 

Though thinking on it… I guess the initial stages of each life are the most influential, from my experience. There was once a life where I locked myself in the closet all the time because I was buried under rubble for an extended period of time. That happened within the first year of that life, and while most would find fear in a small place like that afterwards, I continue to like smaller spaces.

…Perhaps I'm just a weird individual.

During my internal strife Wimberley exits the room. There's already a new door there, going by the creaking I just heard. Impressive. While I have the slightest temptation to break it again, I pocket that idea to instead crawl off my bed and slide straight under it. This small body of mine fits nicely in the small space, and it's not cramped in a way where it's uncomfortable. I can handle the light dust perfectly fine. 

Every time I do this, I imagine that I'm some sort of monster under the bed. Is it childish? Sure. But, I get a free pass this time since I am currently a child. Plus, it could be argued that I'm more of a monster than a child at the moment, with the way I look and act. Maybe I should try scaring Winona if she comes in to wake me up or something.

The hard floor ends up being more comfortable after all, and the darkness of the bed’s underside is a suitable companion to the limited space. It seems I know this life’s sleeping preferences now. Guess I'll sleep then.