Bellavarn rubbed his eyes. He currently sat at his desk flipping through a compact picture book that was supposed to help him with a personal project, except the illustrations were so misconstrued that he wanted to find the artist and feed them the preciously expensive paper they so carelessly wasted.

"You're face will get stuck like that."

Bellavarn stopped shaking the book upside down in hopes proper instructions would fall out. Becoming conscious of the unappealing glower painted across his face, Bellavarn waved at Kerv lying on the couch nearby.

"My face reflects this author's ability. Weren't you taking a nap?"

Kerv moved the pillow off his face to talk without being muffled.

"I slept for a good two hours. Nothing has happened."

Bellavarn glanced outside. The sky was overcast with trickling snow. Unable to tell the time, Bellavarn stretched his back as he retorted.

"Isn't it a good thing you have nothing to do? Job well done. No worrying like before."

"I still have to make sure you sleep and don't ruin your eyes. The Duke will have my head."

"What about the Duchess?"

"Are you trying to curse me? Don't even mention it."

Bellavarn prevented himself from rubbing his eyes again. It was true he was straining his eyesight. Now that the topic was brought up... did he need glasses? They weren't widespread within the kingdom but were common in the neighboring kingdom.

Squinting, he picked up the picture book and held it at arm's length. He played with it for a little while, moving the book slowly forward and backward, checking if it was still legible. He noticed to his horror that as it got closer, everything became mush.

I'm going to need some reading lenses made. How are they going to measure my prescription?

Bellavarn shivered at the images his imagination conjured.

Where are my cookies?

Even his imagination was making him stress eat.

Glasses were likely astronomically expensive. They were probably one of the few things that would be cost-efficient to get magically enchanted. The Duke's finances were practically limitless, and even Bellavarn's personal finances were steadily growing. The work Braster had groomed him for mainly involved finances and property management. Even if Braster checked most of his work, Bellavarn still got paid.

It was nothing compared to the potential projects he was currently working on. Once Bellavarn started inventing, his finances would soar through the roof. Then he could afford all the chocolate in the world. Hehehe.

"Sir? You called for me?"

Broken out of his stupor, Bellavarn saw a thin figure standing in the doorway. The open doorway

"Ah, yes. Come in, come in! You are the head gardener, yes?"

"Yes, sir. Wendle's my name."

In his head, Bellavarn made a note that Wendle's name was pronounced Wend-lie. He'd have to remind himself when writing the name on any official documents.

"Please, take a seat."

Wendle habitually wiped his hands on his overalls before taking a seat. Winter was usually an issue for gardeners. Not Wendle. He specialized in winter flora. It was a matter of course that anyone employed by the Sallows would be experienced working in cold weather.

"Do you know why I have asked you here?"

"No, sir. I don't. Have I done something wrong?"

The old gardener was much meeker than Parcy. Whether it was Wendle's natural demeanor or a product of Bellavarn's image remained unknown. Either way, it stung a bit.

"Not at all, Wendle.You know me, I love spending time in the atrium. I always appreciated how serene you've made that place."

"You honor me, sir."

"As everyone should. I heard mother has been spending more time in the atrium and is even greeting guests there."

Wendle rubbed the back of his head, bashful at all the praise.

"You're too kind, sir. Too kind. "

Bellavarn smiled a bit at Wendle's sheepish nature.

"Do you think you can choose a few more plants to decorate the library? I spend most of my time here, and as much as I'd love to take my work to the atrium more often, it's become inconvenient."

"I'd be happy to, master Bellavarn. Did you have any preferences? The space in here is much warmer with the fireplace. Those windows don't open either, so the winter varieties will have more trouble surviving in here."

Bellavarn smiled. Wendle knew his stuff.

"I think a bit of color would be nice. Actually, isn't there a winter plant that exudes a mild chill?"

"Chilled moth orchids, yes. They are as popular as normal moth orchids, but they are very fickle. There's a subspecies of cacti that will help with its development. Other than those, they aren't very colorful, but I would recommend a Dragon plant since they aren't high maintenance."

"I like the words coming out of your mouth. I'll take your word for it. Maybe we can find something for me to train with? I don't think I have a green thumb, but I'd like to be able to keep a cactus alive."

"Cacti are more fickle creatures than most believe. Even I have trouble grooming them. Gardening isn't something you can just stick a toe into. If you're serious about it, I can give you some tips, but I wouldn't recommend it if you're trying to sway my ego."

Bellavarn smacked his hand on the desk and laughed, waking Kerv up. He grumbled and turned over.

"I like your honesty. Alright, I'll keep my hands off them. Better they are kept under a professional's care."

"Very wise of you, sir."

"Stop it, stop it. You're too old to be calling me sir in such a manner. Call me Bellavarn."

"I wouldn't dare, sir."

"Ah. Well. I had to try."

=

"Three things?"

"Yeah. Three things about yourself. They could be anything."

A petite maid with calloused hands sat in the chair. She was by far the most accepting personality to walk into his office so far.

Lannie wasn't afraid of him. She was neither boisterous nor meek. In a word, she was incredible.

They'd talked at length already. Lannie worked as a washer after her parents died and helped get her brother accepted into the Knight academy. After he graduated he got her a job under the Sallows working as a maid. She liked practically everything except those that messed with her brother. It was also revealed that Lannie was the closest person to Melody before the incident.

Lannie didn't blame Bellavarn or Melody for what happened. She didn't know the truth but stated that they were both good people, so whatever happened must have been a misunderstanding.

With such an outstanding person before him, there was no need to toss out interview questions. The only reason he was doing so was that he did it for the ten people before her.

"Even if you ask, putting me on the spot makes it difficult. Is there anything specific you want to know?"

"Do you like cookies?"

"Mhm. I love them!"

"Me too. What about chocolate ones?"

"Chocolate is rare, so I can't afford them on my salary."

Bellavarn moved around his desk and used a key to unlock the second drawer. Inside was a box of ten- no, seven chocolate chip cookies. Taking out another brought the number down to six.

"Here."

Lannie gasped.

"Really? Thank you."

She accepted it readily and bit into it. Her face was the picture of bliss as she swung from side to side. It was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

The cookies were precious and rare, but sharing them with someone who appreciated them was a whole different variety of soul sustenance.

When she finished, tears began to spill from her eyes.

"Was it that good? Why are you crying, Lannie?"

Lannie wiped the tears away.

"Sorry. I was just reminded of my family. Dad would save up for ingredients, and Mom would bake them for my and Jeral birthday."

Right, they were twins—what a perfect family. Oh, but her parents...

Silence filled the room. Bellavarn suddenly remembered his own parents. Standing over their graves while holding a wine bottle. Unable to tell if it was wine falling on their graves or his tears.

Lannie seemed to reminisce, but she was no longer crying. On the contrary, she seemed grateful to have been reminded of such a fond memory. She bobbed her head while twirling her fingers.

Bellavarn asked a sudden question.

"Do they have a plot you can visit?"

She blinked in mild surprise. No one's ever asked that before.

"Mhm. I visit and bring fresh flowers every week, but it has been difficult to pay for them since they are out of season."

Lannie's cheeks colored as she quickly waved her hands in front of her, flustered about mentioning her salary.

"You don't need to worry about flowers anymore. I'll have Wendle get you whatever you want. Do your parents have any preferences?"

"Would you? I mean, you don't have to do that. It's not like they'll miss fresh flowers."

"Nonsense. They will miss your company. Take time off every Weekend to visit. Tell your brother he can join you as long as nothing is pressing."

Lannie's eyes were like saucers. Was this the lord she served? Even if she didn't believe the rumors, how could he be so different from what she imagined?

He was pleasant to talk to.

He had shared such an expensive gift with her.

His eyes were so kind.

But why...

She could see it, but couldn't understand it.

Why do you know what it's like to lose parents?

=

The days went on. Bellavarn saw several people a day, chatting with them in-between work. He met many interesting characters and possible friends. Of them, there were a few that stood out from the rest.

"Three things? I wondered if you were asking everyone such a generic question. Seems like I'm out thirty coins."

A plump woman in an apron was plopped in the chair. Though she insisted she was speaking in her inside voice, her voice carried.

"Three things. Alright. I enjoy cooking deserts. Specifically tarts. My children light up whenever I bring extras home."

"You have children, Misses Vale?"

"Six of 'em. The oldest is only 12."

"You must be blessed to have so many loving children."

"You can't sweet talk me, child. They're all little rascals 'Specially the little ones..."

=

Ester entered the study. Bellavarn greeted her with a smile and motioned for her to have a seat.

The short maid had already prepared the three things about herself. She hated working, enjoyed long naps, and disliked being out in the sun. Boom. Done.

Pleasantries wouldn't work on her.

Ester remembered the day clearly. Finding her friend Melody in such a bloody condition—the look of terror in the girl's eyes. Ester had few true friends in the house since most everyone simply tolerated her. The only people she'd consider friends would be Lannie, Cynthia, and Melody. Lannie liked everyone, so she didn't count. Cynthia didn't talk much, so she was easy to talk to. Melody was different, though.

The two of them genuinely got along. Melody was a good listener who always understood Ester's points. She didn't get offended at her jokes and would even take up some of Ester's duties. If anyone else asked Ester to stand guard in front of Bellavarn's door, she would have told them to eat a dishrag. But it was Melody, so she did it.

The hardworking Melody would always return from serving the young master with a smile on her face. Ester had a lot of fun teasing her about it.

For him to turn around do such a dastardly and heinous thing to her only true friend...

It took Ester all her willpower not to quit outright. How could the others work under someone so... so... vile?

"Wait! Don't tell me. I got it. Your name starts with a vowel. A? No. The letter E?"

"My name is Ester, young master."

She bowed her head sarcastically, wanting the charade to be over with.

"Ester. Yes. Sorry. I am still trying to learn everyone's names. I will make sure to remember your name in the future."

Yuck. Just the sight of Bellavarn made Ester ill. Hearing her name spoken from foul lips sickened her. She would quit after all.

Ask your stupid questions so I can leave.

"Are you skilled at knitting, by chance?"

How?

She narrowed her eyes. The only way he knew was if Melody told him. Being caught doing something so girly by her best friend was one of the most regretful moments of her career. The embarrassment and shame trickling up from her gut were threatening to lash out.

"Knitting... is a hobby of mine. Yes."

He acted oblivious to her feelings and carried on ignorantly.

"Great! I was hoping to have someone help me learn. I wanted to create something simple."

Ester's brain let out a short pfft.

He wanted her to teach him to knit? That wasn't something young lords did. What about the answers she prepared ahead of time? All her planning was useless now. She should have guessed that he wanted a replacement tutor after Melody ran away.

Ester's mind swam with horrible images of Bellavarn trying to get closer, touching her shoulder and breathing down her neck. She suppressed a shiver.

"You want to learn to knit, young master? Why not hire a tutor instead of asking a maid?"

"Ah, I wanted to keep it a secret from Father and Mother..."

Bellavarn was looking through a book and scratching the back of his head.

"It is incredibly embarrassing to ask this. I don't have a sister who would show me or could take up the task. But I was hoping to be able to teach myself so that I can knit a small blanket."

Bellavarn turned his book around and propped it up, pointing to it.

"This here. The illustration doesn't show it correctly, and I keep pricking my fingers."

Ester was bewildered as she stared at a series of crude illustrations. The hands were poorly drawn, and the needle's direction was undeterminable from the artist's rendering.

Young Lord Bellavarn, the son of a duke, was actually teaching himself to knit?

Now that she looked. The book was slim, like a children's book. Yet, he still didn't understand?

Glancing off to the side, Ester finally noticed a small bundle of blue yarn sitting on the desk. Next to it is an object that can only be described as a tumor-like mass with a needle sticking straight out like a planted flag.

How did she miss that abomination?

"That's supposed to be a blanket?"

Bellavarn nodded his head multiple times while holding a glum expression.

"Exactly. I want to create a blanket for my sister... or brother, whenever they arrive. Babies are usually wrapped in blankets, right?"

"Yes... They usually are."

Ester gave Bellavarn the most bizarre look. He didn't seem to notice.

"The needle keeps getting looped and caught. I don't even know which direction I am supposed to go in. Do I repeat the knots indefinitely? When do I turn? I also wasn't sure if the color would matter. Girls usually prefer lighter colors. I want to make a navy-blue blanket in case it was a boy, but I also wanted to make a second lavender one for the eventuality of it being a girl..."

Ester blinked. Then... continued blinking. Bellavarn continued rambling.

Who is this?

The image before Ester, of a near-adult man floundering while he tried to explain his shortcomings, failings, then attempting to continue knitting into the mass of wrinkled yarn, was completely at odds with her preconception.

The man before her was like a father gushing over a newborn. Except, Bellavarn was an older brother who didn't even have a sibling yet. And he wanted to learn a woman's skill? Not sword fighting or magic? ...He wanted to learn knitting? Learn from her? To make a blanket, no, two blankets?

Ester clasped her head as her thoughts whirled.

"...Ester? Was I talking too fast? I can slow down and show you what I have learned in a more controlled manner..."

More talking.

"...Ow. Again. See? Always happens..."

Ester could feel a migraine conducting a siege.

"Almost got it. Just curve around here and loop there..."

She had enough.

"Stop! Just stop it. You're infernal machinations have defeated me. I admit it. I give up. Give me that before you somehow make it worse."

Ester snatched the materials in frustration.

"You hold the needle like this. Not with your entire fist! You take only the edge of yarn. Not a bundle full. Throw that miserable creation away and pass me some new thread."

Bellavarn smiled broadly and followed her instructions to the letter. He watched her work with gusto. Oohing and aahing appropriately.

Internally he pumped a fist in victory.

=

"Checkers, sir?"

"Would you care to play? It is a simple game, so we should be able to get in a few rounds before your next shift."

Jeral smiled.

"I'm always open to a game, sir."

"Good, I'll choose red."

As they grabbed their respective pieces and set up the board, Bellavarn noticed the slow care Jeral moved. Eyebrows knitting together, he was perturbed at how Jeral maintained intimate eye contact even as his hands moved independently.

"By the way, master Bellavarn..."

Bellavarn froze, sensing danger. He gulped.

"...what are these things I've been hearing from my sister."

=

"What do you think of rain, Denice?"

"Rain? I miss it after all this snow. But rain feels dreary during autumn."

"Summer showers are the best, though, aren't they?"

"Yes, sir. On a hot day where the rain turns the air cool."

"Watching it pelt against glass window rhythmically."

"All while enjoying a cup of tea..."

=

"Is it okay for me to eat these, master Bellavarn?"

Bellavarn munched on a cream tart as he whispered conspiratorially to Kyle.

"I need you to help me hide the evidence. Misses Vale will scold me if I come back with extras. Anything I don't finish goes to her children, and last time they got stomach aches."

Bellavarn made a religious sign. Why was he blamed for such a thing? And why was Misses Vale contributing to his sugar complex?

"Maybe share some with the others on your shift? Secretly."

With permission, Kyle dug into the pastries and shared most of the leftovers with other guards. What he did not do, was do it quietly.

The lump on Bellavarn's head seemed to grow twofold that evening.

=

"You have terrible luck at dice, young master."

Bellavarn eyed the toothy guard as he grabbed the dice and cup. This time he'd wipe that mocking smile of Potters stupid face for sure!

"I bet you twenty tarts!"

Potter shrugged his shoulders as if it didn't matter how much Bellavarn bet.

"It's your loss, young master."

=

"Can you help me organize these for me?"

Cynthia wordlessly filed the papers with ease. When she was done, she presented them in a neat bundle.

"Can you deliver this to my father? It's important."

Cynthia accepted the sealed missive directly from Bellavarn's hands and deposited it neatly into an enchanted carrying container. Ensuring it was safe and locked, she transported the message across the mansion to Braster's office and presented it forthwith. When she received the Duke's response, Cynthia repeated her actions and returned to the young master Bellavarn.

"Can you help clean up? I had too many tarts and bumped into the shelf."

Cynthia cleaned up the potted plant and picked up the fallen books. Dusting them off and cleaning through the binding just to make sure, she referred to Bellavarn's filing system to make sure each was in its correct place.

Kerv watched from the couch as Bellavarn received assistance from a long-legged maid in reorganizing the shelf. It had actually been Kerv who knocked over the shelf. Kerv was attempting to get a rise out of the young master for all the times he has been neglected, laying about in the study while Bellavarn worked or chatting with people other than him.

Instead of being yelled at, the evil Bellavarn smiled and tricked Cynthia into helping him clean.

"Tch."

Kerv wasn't jealous. He wasn't. He was proud of Bellavarn for being so outgoing and taking the initiative. It was just that Kerv was disappointed and feeling neglected right now.

A forgotten side piece, that's what I am.

"Don't just sit there, Kerv. Help us pick up these books."

Kerv flinched. With a long exasperated sigh, he got up. As he got closer, Bellavarn kicked his shin and jerked his head in Cynthia's direction.

Cynthia smiled at the added help. With this, the work would be done quicker.

Noting the smile of a pretty maid convinced Kerv that he wasn't abandoned after all.