Day 6

"You are still terrible at knitting. I could finish within a day or two, but you've already spent three weeks on it and have barely made any progress."

Bellavarn went cross-eyed as his nose came closer to his needle. Knots kept forming, and Bellavarn had to restart frequently. He hasn't made any progress, even though he planned on making two blankets. 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 were the preamble of 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 ruffled his hair.

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

"Hah! You don't have to be a Lady to knit. You're the one who keeps stubbornly persisting despite having zero talent.."

"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. It was meant to look menacing, but Lannie's puffed-up cheeks made the action adorable. The maid was unable of making a mean face.

"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."

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

"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 a cutesy pouting face. Ester was unamused. Bellavarn to the rescue.

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

Bellavarn knew the real reason he was here was to make sure he didn't hit on his sister. This was how it was going to be; Bellavarn didn't have a choice.

Jeral kept Bellavarn within view the entire time he played checkers.

"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 folded her arms. The fact Bellavarn was learning to knit is supposed to be a secret from the Duchess and Duke. Why were there over twice as many people as there should be?

"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 too pure an individual. Jeral's worries that someone would take advantage of Lannie's kindness were probably founded from experience. Still, it would drive Ester insane having such an overbearing brother.

Jeral called over from the checkerboard, converting his second king.

"What seems to be the problem?"

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

"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 eyes opened. 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.

Maybe it is my fault.

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

Ester tilted her head. Rhythm summed it up nicely.

"It is 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 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 to 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. Don't listen to him, he has no idea what... he's... talking about?"

Her cutting words turned into an unbelieving question.

"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, soaring 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

Kerv wandered off a while ago saying he wanted to try making something in the workshop by himself. Bellavarn talked with him about his weapon ideas and helped Kerv work it out. Bellavarn thought iron would be better, but Kerv seemed driven. Learning the right enchantments to make the new weapon useable would take time.

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.

That was why he was lounging on the couch in the library. He laid along its length, holding a book above him like he used to do with his smartphone. Bellavarn started out sitting, but gradually morphed into a slug as he became more engrossed in his novel.

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, glimpsing amazing views and interacting with famous people. The traveler learned about the barmaid's mother and her illness, expressing his sympathy. He knew of a costly 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 angry tears. That was where she discovered her mother on her feet, walking and talking like she never got sick. The barmaid interrogated her mother, needing to know how this happened. The mother told her daughter about 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 his marriage proposal. She woke up a few hours later, fully healed.

Only, there wasn't 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? You startled me."

"Ow. Ow. Ow. No. I mean, yes. It is my fault. I interrupted you when you were focused."

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 and the ones dotting her hairline. She held a pained smile.

Silence lingered as Bellavarn watched the girl fidget under his gaze. She seemed uncomfortable with talking and watched

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

Bellavarn stop staring and turned his attention to the novel in his hand. Specifically at the illustrated cover.

"Ah."

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. Ah. Forget it. No one would believe those words.

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

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

As her eyes widened in surprise and recognition, Bellavarn bunkered down the hatches for whatever teasing and judgment would ensue. Then, counter to his expectations, she clapped her hands together.

"Oh~ I love that book!"

The girl's green eyes were twinkling. 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 Herin appears out of nowhere, in such a flash, yet keeps his profile low while unassumingly falling 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 rambling 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 sucked in a harsh breath. Her cheeks turned the color of ripe tomatoes and started waving her hands frantically.

"OhmygodImsorry 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."

Her lightning-speed words continued. The longer Bellavarn stared in amusement the meeker her words became until she eventually shut down, tucking her chin into her neck. Imagining the steam wafting off her face, Bellavarn realized answering her would alleviate the issue.

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

"Mhm."

She hummed, lost in thought. Bellavarn moved off the couch and leaned against the arm. His guest 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 about her identity; however, looking at the door and seeing at least four familiar heads ducking away, he got the picture.

Mother took longer than I thought.

There weren't any streamers or cake. No fanfare. It was already more than he could have hoped for. Perhaps it was too much to wish that the Duchess didn't interrogate the poor girl.

The eyes peeking in were gone, but he was sure there were ears twitching around the corner. 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 conspiratorially 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 bowed instead of curtsying. Her curly hair fell plainly.

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

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 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."