I Was Born The Unloved Twin 109 Too Early For Brunch

All around me is dark. Foggy even. I don't know where I am or how I got here.

"Are you having fun?"

No matter what direction I turn, I can't see anyone or anything. The voice is all around me. An invisible PA system, surround sound. I know s.h.i.+t. Something like this can't scare me.

Each step I take feels off-balanced, heavy as if I was walking through thick sand.

"Are you having fun, Rosalia?"

"....old man?"

The dark ceiling above me booms. Cracks of lightning and thunder roaring through. Bad effects. All just bad special effects.

In the dark there's no sense of direction here. The fog doesn't go away, even as those bad effects start pouring down, a sprinkler system like rain. When the world lights and crackles, it somehow reveals nothing but flashes of black.

"What the h.e.l.l!?"

My voice is drowned out by the clatter of rain and thunder. More importantly, the ground below me turns to something awful and mushy. The grains of sand creating a disgusting sensation as my feet sink down.

I can step out of it, I can even run, but the floor feels like putty. Stay too long and my weight is too much. Too much and I sink. It's slick and uneven, making me lose my balance as a particularly loud crack surprises me. It feels disgusting on my palms, my skin, and I sink further.

How frustrating.

"Where the h.e.l.l am I?!!"

Grains of sand and putty stick to me despite the downpour. Despite the rain that does nothing to wash it away. It doesn't feel as cold as it should be, but that could be because my own body was as cold as ice.

A mocking chuckle rumbles, that scarily good surround sound system working at full capacity.

"Does it matter?"

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it!!!" I scream, more than annoyed at the filth.

Another awkward tumble has me tasting grit and sand. The pull has my limbs heavy, exhausted.

"Are you having fun?"

"Of f.u.c.king course not!"

"But it looks so fun?"

In the flashes of light crackling overhead, the lumps of mud spiral and take crude shapes. Monsterous growths, the form of human torsos, of faceless heads. Some with too-long arms, too large hands. They reach for me, threatening to bury me in the weight of wet sand.

I hold my breath as a wave of that s.h.i.+t pa.s.ses over, hitting me with the motions of the ocean. Pressing on me with the pressure of the earth. I don't dare open my eyes down here.

I feel like a small child again. One who lost my footing at the beach, helpless for a too-long moment as the waves a.s.sault me. Pulling me away from the sh.o.r.e. All that but worse. It feels like I'm being buried alive.

There's sand in my ears but the voice is still too d.a.m.n clear.

"It looks so fun? A big house. A mother. A father. Even a cute baby sister. Everything is so peaceful. Playing house, getting all your simple little wishes fulfilled. What a happy life."

I force myself limp, letting the waves push me wherever it sees fit, conserving strength. It feels nothing like the soothing waters of the ocean. The sand gritting, the weight immense. But I wait, wait for my chance to escape.

"Isn't it all just...so warm?"

My lungs burn. The only heat I can fell. Something much deeper inside me burns, it rages despite the cold numb of my body.

"Isn't it time to rest? You deserve it. Take a rest."

There! Now! I force myself up, grasping on something solid. It burns and there's definitely sand in my mouth as I gasp for breath. Raising myself step by exhausting step. There's sand in my lungs, my guts, and it's so G.o.d d.a.m.n heavy.

"Wouldn't it just be easier?"

My eyes are crusted as if from a deep sleep, I probably lose a few eyelashes prying them open. There's little point because it's dark, dark and just G.o.d d.a.m.n f.u.c.king dark. The solid walls of black closing in on me.

Looking straight up at my only source of light, even if it's pure lighting and storm clouds, the light looks like a box. The rain turning solid, into more and more wet sand.

It's a grave. It's a grave and I'm being buried.

"Just like before. Just like how it was before. When everyone was happy."

The voice booms like a G.o.d, as terrifying as it was comforting. The rains of wet earth burying me further each step I climb from quicksand.

"f.u.c.k you!" I scream up, though I choke on each breath. "f.u.c.k this! f.u.c.k you! Go stuff yourself back up your own G.o.d d.a.m.n a.s.s then burn in h.e.l.l in there!"

"...You're a bitter one...ain'tcha?"

I let out a laugh as dark and raspy as the heavy earth trying to bury me. A laugh as much as whooping cough. Lighting flashes and I get the feeling I've watched this scene before. In a movie maybe, a scene played out again and again. Of a haggard old witch, an evil queen, any villain really, right before their fatal fall.

"What am I supposed to do then? Huh?! So I just die quietly? Conveniently? Is that it?! Do I just fall and cry and cry waiting for someone to save me?! Not gonna happen!"

Rain falls like mud, sludge, running down and all over me. It's barely that I note how it runs and falls over my body, long and dripping. The body of an adult.

"Newsflas.h.!.+ You failed on that part! You failed! You couldn't save s.h.i.+t you crazy old man! You left and you didn't save s.h.i.+t. Not me! Not Lilyanne! No one lives ok?! This story f.u.c.king sucks!"

Thunder rumbles like a cruel laughter.

I stumble and slide. My nails feel like they're being rubbed raw down to the flesh. Desperate to hang on.

"Isn't it so fun? Playing. As if you had a place here, a chance, in the first place?"

"I'm not playing s.h.i.+t."

"Isn't it a nice dream?"

"d.a.m.n it you s.h.i.+tty old man!"

"Isn't it fun Rosalia? Pretending like you were ever loved. Even just for a little bit. As if anyone ever cared. As if you ever mattered because how the h.e.l.l could you? How could anyone ever look at you when she's right there?"

"Shut it. Shut up shut up shut up! You're not him, you're-"

"The real one? Does it matter? I've always been real, always. Everyone is the same, everyone but you. Tell me child, who is it that you died for? Who is it the world will have you die for, again and again, no matter what? Who is it that really matters?"

"Shut the f.u.c.k up!"

"Who is the only one that matters?"

I scream myself hoa.r.s.e. Curse out filth just as much as it rains on me. At the same time, I climb, crawling up the mushy sand. If nothing but pure spite keeps me going, the deep low burning my blood to a boil, pounding in my ears, and pooling below my stomach.

"Who was that?"

"f.u.c.k off! I know already! I know the answer you want, it's Lily the f.u.c.king Anne. Perfect Lilyanne h.e.l.l mother of Ventrella! G.o.d d.a.m.n it I know, so what? Do I just take it lying down? Do I just die, again?! As her doormat! I'm using her you G.o.d d.a.m.n crazy old man. I'm using all of you!"

"You love them. Once. You loved me, once."

"Ahahahaha! Jokes on you! I'm not even Rosalia! You can't pull that type of s.h.i.+t off on me. Not like you did her. I do whatever the h.e.l.l I want! Whatever the d.a.m.n h.e.l.l I can get!"

It's deafening, the world is deafening. If it goes silent, as if it could, I don't notice it. It's all a ringing noise that can't match the roaring of my own rus.h.i.+ng blood. If it hurts, if I'm bleeding from my hands, anywhere, there's no way I can tell. I can't feel it.

It doesn't hurt me.

"Then don't look down my girl." the voice chuckles, the clapping of light blinding me. Reverse psychology working in tandem with the instinctive nerve to look away from the lighting.

At the bottom lies a person, broken, half buried.

It's not me.

My eyes adjust to the light against my will and I swear it's not me. That's not Rosalia at any age, not the hair, the face, she's-

Oh G.o.d....it is me. That's me! But how? How?!

The walls collapse to my silent scream because really, this was never a fair game in the first place.

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"Bluuuuurg"

The bathroom door slams open. The possibly hungover young woman making it to the toilet safely once again, emptying her stomach of any excess alcohol. Which was honestly, a lot. She wretched, flushed, pushed herself up to the sink to gulp down the running water, then smoothly fell to the floor to puke it out all over again. Obviously she had done this many times before, her motions while pained was well-practiced. An art in coping with too early hangovers.

From the dark, shadowy large hands reached out, landing themselves through her hair.

The sensation causes her to turn and start screaming.

"Ahhh ssssshhhhh too loud. Waaaaaaay too loud Mengy. Owwww f.u.c.k I was just holding your hair back!"

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it. You scared the h.e.l.l out of me Niles. I thought it was one of Jung-Joon's horror movies come to life. "

"You scared me, b.i.t.c.h! Have you looked in the mirror? Here I was, chilling with my cereal-"

"It's...G.o.d d.a.m.n 4am, and you're eating cereal in the bathtub?!

"So there I was, not bothering anyone in the middle of the night. Anyone! With my cereal, in the tub, when this drunk comes stumbling in to throw up her guts and mess up my vibe."

"Dude, how drunk are you still? Is that a ca.s.serole dish? How did you even get cereal in here?"

"Pretty d.a.m.n drunk and I have no idea. None. I'm empty. You gonna finish and you just gonna keep talking barf mouth?"

"...."

When Meng turns back around, still on her knees, her friend does his best to reach over. Holding her hair out the way until she finished retching, bile, and all. After the 3rd flush, she resists the urge to pa.s.s out right there and then to at least clean herself up and turn on the fan.

"Yo Meng."

"What?"

"Check me out."

He slides up his s.h.i.+rt with still balancing the oversized bowl of cereal, his free hand moving a little sultry and a lot too clumsily dramatic, an effect of the party and alcohol a few hours before. Ebony skin and dark lines of hard-earned abs contrasting sharply against the porcelain tub.

"Is my kidney still there? Like do I have some surgical sutures? Any sign of black market organ harvesting?"

She falls down to near fatally hit him in the guts.

"Ouch! The heeeeeeelll? This is the thanks I get? What if you got the illegal hole in my stomach? I feel so violated." he cries, actually tearing up.

"Good news Niles. You have two kidneys so if someone actually stole one, you still got the other." the girl pats, crawling over to sit diagonally over the tub. Taking little to no mind in crus.h.i.+ng the much larger still half-drunk guy underneath her. She even made grabby hands at the oversized dish of cereal.

"This is my only spoon you greedy hoe." he slaps those hands away/

"What's that you got over there then?" she points, her ankle pressing into his stomach.

".....My supersized spoon."

"That's a soup ladle you nincomp.o.o.p. Hand it over."

"I'm telling J.J. you a.s.saulted defenseless poor me. a.s.saulted!"

Meng hits him in the hand with the spoon she pries off, settling herself as comfortably as possible. For once, it's silent, with only the sound of sugary cereal crunching and spoons clanking as the two ate out of the giant dish.

"There's like a tub of ice cream dumped in here isn't there?"

"So there I was, minding my own G.o.dd.a.m.n business in the tub with my cereal when a married drunk woman comes cras.h.i.+ng in-"

"I got it, I got it."

She shovels the disaster of ice cream cereal into her mouth, enjoying the relief to her bitter throat. The sugar sobering up her throbbing head.

"So. You want to talk about it? Or just eat all my cereal?"

She considers it, deciding that was fair. That or the alcohol, her nerves, were loose, frazzled.

"....Bad trip my man. Like....like I had a nightmare but...when I woke up, I don't remember s.h.i.+t."

"s.h.i.+t happens."

"Yeah."

He offers her the bigger soup ladle and they make the switch, going back to crunching and munching. Because sometimes that's all you need, more than any wise words of advice. A friend. A shoulder to lean on and maybe an unholy sundae in a ca.s.serole dish at 4am in someone else's bathtub.

Meng lets the sweet spoonful rest against the roof of her mouth, swallowing down the trembling. The unknown feelings from the fear, the absurdity of it all, and even urge to cry in sweet relief. She doesn't know what to make of it so she doesn't. Doesn't think.

It was messed up but it was enough. This was enough for the moment. Even if the door creaks.

"Well....I see this one is occupied."

"Oh dang what are we eating?"

Two teens stand at the restroom door. One of them already trying to walk away if not for the ponytailed girl pulling him in.

"I just wanted to clean up and sleep." he complains, getting piled into the tub. The younger girl climbing easily to half cuddle against Meng, reaching over for the ice cream mess.

"Bad night?" she asks, getting spoon-fed by Niles. "Mmmm peanut b.u.t.ter!"

"Something like that." Meng replies, feeling oddly comfortable like this.

"I like your spiders taking over your face look." another figure comes from the doorway, slurping up instant cup noodles.

"Thank you." Meng sighs, not even bothering to try wiping her face any further.

"Dude take a seat and pa.s.s the noodles."

"What are we doing all in the bathroom in the first place?!"

"Okay so there I was, minding my own business in the tub when Mengy here comes in looking like the ring ghost and-"

"No one told me there was an afterparty in this bathroom?" someone else shuffles in, looking sleepy.

"Can I ever finish my story, tonight?!"

Meng can't help it. She laughs, hoa.r.s.e and low, her throat still scratchy and burning. There's a mess, an unsettled feeling in her veins and guts. The nightmare forgotten but not gone somewhere inside her, but this was fine. She woke up sick but not exactly alone, even if it was just a bunch of silly drunks in the tub.

"Meng? What's going on here?"

"Jung-Joon? Weren't you sleeping?"

"Hmmmm I was, but then you went away."

The bathroom half reacts in tired groans and greetings. It was too early to watch this s.h.i.+t.

"Sup."

"Oh no not more people."

"Eeeeyyyyy JJ! I need you to know I was a.s.saulted first. "

"Can you bring more ice cream?"

"Or ramen?"

When a yawning moon-eyed boy finds her, finds them all, partly hungover and laughing over cereal in a bathtub full of too many people, he can't help it either. Can't help but soften at the sight. Can't help but want to join them, crazy as it looked. So he does.

Even if it was 4am.

"Holy f.u.c.k- what are you all doing in my bathroom?!"

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I am a simple girl.

When the day is good I eat well. When it's not I eat something else.

If I wake up heart racing and shaken at 4am, for not a single good reason, well obviously it's time to abandon Lilyanne and find an early breakfast. Seriously, no good reason at all. Oooo what's a big bad scary dream going to do to me? Pffft, try real life, now that's a real nightmare.

I'm Rosalia Ventrella and thus I do what I want. Who cares if we're not at home. So long as it's not mother's scary arms or father's boarded up windows and doorways blocking me.

I go with my mood and the seasons. Enjoying the ripest bounty of what nature offers each month, what is meant to be eaten when. Whatever is available.

Unfortunately, I am a girl. Thus I crave. I crrrraaaaaaaave.

Ramen, sweet sake, corn tamales, smooth tequila, banh mi, chilled beer, artificially addictive chips, neon slus.h.i.+e margaritas with silly straws. Ice cream and cereal.

I still remember that time I did it all in one night. Ah big tummy ache the next day, or was that a hangover? Both? Good times good times.

All of those things and much more are immediately crossed off from my menu, not just due to the drinking age. For one they don't exist!

What is pub crawling?! Culinary delights? Late-night happy hours? Nope!

Maybe taverns? Or osterie as they're called. You would think there would be more bar options in the places around a military encampment.

What we do have, however, is an overflowing amount of wine. The wine shops, or fraschettes, more likely to be seen in any town or city. Dry, semi dry, sweet, bold, full, sour, we have them all and more. If bread is the flesh of the people then wine must be the blood. Even when waves of famine, disease, troubled times laps on the sh.o.r.es like waves, the natural grains distilled into neutral spirits. The fields, the orchards of grapes, cherries, pit seeded high sugar fruits must be gathered and pressed into good wine.

Rich or poor, every man's daily table is blessed with wine as they are salt, oil, or bread. Wine isn't so much a luxury like I knew it in another world, but a necessary life staple.

Contrary to all this alcohol, this isn't a country of drunks. Straight or diluted, even mixed with vinegar as many old people prefer, it's enjoyed at near every meal and even used as medicine. Beyond the household tables and bas.e.m.e.nts, it's a lucrative business that greatly supports industries of people. From the common field labor that picks and crushes juices, the craftsmen pouring over the large equipment and little packaging details, to the well dressed traveling market sellers who bring the final upsale profits back home.

They can't sell all the wine, given there are various grades, nor would the people want to. There's little need for too many pubs when every place, even a peasant tenant's humble little home, is stocked well with runoff concentrates of the stuff or homemade jugs of brandy, liquor, and mead. If you can grow it, it's wine worthy. Wine is for everyone.

This blazing sun, the land, it gives these fruits. What we make of it is our own choice and labor. If there's one thing that I can admit grampa does right, it's spreading the love and knowledge of good wine.

I just can't taste any!

"Drink your milk princess." Tamera keeps dunking her morning bread into a hot thick honey wine.

It's time for a second, much heavier, breakfast again.

Today my instructor from h.e.l.l has not only tracked me down out whichever village farm I've been kidnapped to, but proceeded to run me to the ground, much to my grampa's approval.

Seriously he just threw me out the window this early morning after he caught me prowling. Straight into Tamera's working arm, yelling at me to get fresh air and have fun? I don't know if it was a good or bad thing that my parents weren't immediately around to witness that. This guest hall was 4 stories high! Crazy old man.

I haven't been slacking, especially with the brats to keep up with, but ow ow ow. Buff baby, strong, baby, gonna be a bada.s.s little girl. Ow.

Somehow though the ever tough Tamera has immobilized her handsomely muscular arm But from what? A great big beast? Too many battles? A careless hunt that has left her incapacitated the short remainder of the season monster wave.

"That too but naaaaah I almost won last night's arm wrestling brawl. Almost. d.a.m.n, maybe I should get back to drinking kiddy milk too." she sighs, chugging a much more liquid fruity wine.

While Yuna isn't as crazy about it, he occasionally does so with the wine dipping too, underaged as he is. But 13 is much more appropriate than 3 in any world, let alone this one. If Vincent was conscious at the table, perhaps he'd be boozing it up as well. Something about him always looks like he needs a few drinks, or 10 year nap...hooked up to IVs.

They came too. Or got dragged by Tamera? Meh same thing. I don't know much of these deliveries and pick up excuse is valid.

As strange as it is to me, this is a very common way to breakfast among the people. It's not just grampa being a stubborn drunk when he dips leftover bread or doughnuts with honeyed wine first thing in the morning. Practically everyone does it as if it were another world's coffee and doughnuts.

It's so weird. I just want one little taste to confirm it. It's probably sour or something. Fresh clean milk probably tastes better. Just one little.....chuggy.

"It's really sour. Milk does taste a lot better." Amar sticks out his tongue as he spreads a sticky fig preserve and goat cheese on a slice of soft bread.

"Yeah! Waaaaay better!" Lukas agrees, chugging down his cup with a milk mustache.

Children! All of you are simply nothing children! Why are you even here anyway?! Go back to drinking your kiddy milk!

"I just did! More milk please!"

"But you're even smaller Rosa? You should have some strawberries, it's a yummier sour. Here Lukas." Amar pushes the respective items over at each one of us. More milk for Lukas, tiny dwarf strawberries for me.

I feel the snickering looks at us tiny ones. There's probably a joke going on over my head but I'm busy moping to think too hard about it.

As Rosalia, I am certainly feeling the lack of variety on the children's menu. Kids' tastebuds are simple, a little more than fatty, and overall just safe.

Then there are just limited options in the a.n.a.log oddly medieval world. Milk, fruit, bread, maybe some sliced lard, more milk, fruit, bread, and so on. Sometimes there's variation but it's all a general rotation based on that, especially during second breakfast, before lunch is out. I should just be glad there's no smelly fish or shrimp paste today. Fish is also a common sight, especially when the sea isn't all the far away, but children's' senses really are much too sensitive. The salty briny smell is too much, even for me, someone with another world's culinary memories.

There's nothing wrong per se with this, as all of these things are fresh, organic, and wholesomely tasty. As a rich young lady, I still eat better than the majority of people no? I can switch it up with expensive white bread or whatever I can convince my own kitchens to make.

It's been three years since I've seen a pop tart or a greasy to-go hashbrown. Three years since huevos ranchero, chicken and waffles, and more importantly all you can drink mimosas. Or any mimosas. h.e.l.l, I'd settle for a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary.

"Pa.s.s the sea salt," snorts Yuna, mouth full of roughly torn carbs dipped in olive oil and vinegar.

*plop*

"....Ok, not what I meant. What's wrong with princess strawberry today?"

Oh nothing. Don't mind me or this random table I'm getting well aquatinted with. I'm just a three-year-old reliving someone else's really awkward doomed life. You know, the usual reincarnation s.h.i.+t.

I think I'm handling all this quite well for someone in my shoes. Just taking it day by day.

No time skips. Not even a single drink to make it any easier.

*smack smack smack*

"Oooooookay let's not do that." grimaces Vincent, finally waking up only to slide a plain focaccia between my face and the table. Darn it. How come he gets to mope all over the table and I don't?

"He's sad and sleepy all the time. More now because he's busy. You get mad." Amar licks some spilled jam off his little fingers.

"You forget stressed. I'm not even supposed to be here. " Vincent snaps, stealing the loaded sweet toast out of the kid's hand.

Tsk tsk, he looks like such a seedy villain like that. A good old creepy skeleton alright, suffering out in the daylight. Much suffering, munching on much-needed nutrients. Somehow he's looking even more haggard lately, despite getting slightly fattened up.

Ah is that what we're doing?

"Fine. More milk for everyone." Tamera declares and mopes at the same time, snapping the tavern maid to bring over more....milk.

Mini toy goats, mountain yaks, sheep herds or working buffalos, wherever it's from, in a world without nonmagical refrigeration it's a little difficult for most people to store this stuff long term short of sticking a vat in a cold stream. On its own milk is also just generally reserved for the very young, the very old, or the sick.

This table counts. A lot.

Vincent pitifully groans as Amar pats his back.

"Order it hot for this loser. His stomach can't handle it otherwise." Yuna bites down on some olive oil grilled greens.

As picky as I'm feeling today, it doesn't stop my growing appet.i.te. Especially from watching others chow down so heartily. I still nibble as I mope, from the olive speckled bread to something that seems like grilled white asparagus.

Peasant fare. Except for the slightly higher quality bread, and the jar of sugar sweet fig jam, this is all standard peasant fare for the season.

In this world, there's the common sense that the closer to the ground something else, the more lowly it is. Thing grown from the earth, especially root vegetables, are the lowest ranking.

Meanwhile, long-legged animals, tall fruits and flying foul are much 'higher', and thus more suitable for a n.o.ble's palette. Generally, meat and rich sauces are a luxury. People in this world tend to believe that a poor man's food will make a rich man sick, and vice versa.

n.o.bles aren't to eat 'low' food, while the poor should not consume anything too high above their stations. That it would make them physically ill. The only thing we can all enjoy is bread, olives, and wine. This is what is ingrained in the minds of not only the n.o.bility but across the board.

People truly believe this as if it were an actual science.

The exception being perhaps my family's territory. We're the weirdos, not just because I demand salads and veggies.

It's a run-off effect on the troops' balanced military rations and diet, once again grampa's influence on...literally everything. Balanced meals and wine for all! The troops' cafeteria is always well stocked on grains, veggies, and even 'luxurious' meats.

We actually have a sort of refrigeration with magical aided cold rooms, not to mention grampa's 'aging rooms'. Mmmms yes, dry age those hunt excess into proper juicy steaks! Tasty tasty, fine steaks go well with red wine.

Salt supply isn't an issue either within our territory with the sea and mines. Smoked sausages and meats are also a pretty popular flavorful option. So food preservation here is pretty good even without magical aid.

If you want to be 'strong' you need to eat like a hero, full of protein and a healthy mixture of everything else.

"Can we have meat?!" slurps Lukas, already destroying the last slice of lard.

Yes, yes that's a common menu item. Pure slices of lard. The fat that fuels the people.

"Hmmm we are eating off Vincent's newfound riches.... yeah sure why the h.e.l.l not! The thick cuts. Go get them and whatever looks good ya little loudmouth. You all want anything else?"

"Death." chokes Vincent, going ignored.

"Hot tea water and a h.e.l.l lot more fresh mint." Yuna raises.

"Uh huh, that and the new bread with anise seeds and raisins." Amar agrees and adds on when he smells the freshly baked items wafting from back there.

Lukas happily runs off as Tamera signs the orders to the barmaids from afar, much to her friend's choking.

"Who was it decided that I was paying?!" Vincent complains, looking much more alive when miffed.

"Everyone." Yuna stacks the older teen's plate with more food.

"Literally everyone." Tamera leans over to pat him condescendingly on the head.

"Everyone. You have lots of money now. And a new patron." Amar mixes in honey and a random brown powder sachet to Vincent's steaming milk cup, turning it sunflower yellow. Not suspicious at all. Hey, wait a minute-

"You have a new patron?!"

Surrounded, Vincent answers with a mouth open groan and slams his head back down on the table. Great answer. I couldn't do better myself.

"Drink." Amar pokes at him.

"The only acting successor to Baron Moracaz, get that money." swallows Yuna, sipping the last of his tea.

"Yeah and all he had to do was like....get wrung, stepped all over and poison himself for like 9 years? Hope it was worth it buddy. Now you get to look after his not dead body." Tamera lifts his head back up as easily as one lifts a sack of pinecones.

"It's fine. If he dies too soon the inheritance doesn't go to Vincent. And when it's in Damia's hands there's nothing we can do." Amar hands the drink over to Tamera, something she easily forces half down to the protesting skeleton before he relents, taking the warm wood mug into his own hands.

"Two sons. A 23 year old and a 17 year old. Nothing to note, cept paying off credit for hunt accomplishments. I can take them both with my eyes closed. " Yuna reaches for a fruit with his knife

"I'm sure even Lukas can take em with a sack tied over his head. But that's not what ya schemer ways want now isn't it?" Tamera fake sighs, releasing the poor teen to continue her hearty meal.

"It's not even that much money" he complains darkly, looking nauseous.

"It is now," Amar mentions, far too vaguely for my tastes.

I can't take it anymore. Any of it.

"Suspicious! Why are you all sounding so suspicious? What? Have you all forgotten I'm even here?"

I slam the table with my tiny fists. Immature yes but very effective in drawing attention. More importantly, what the h.e.l.l is going on around here? Baron Moracaz? Hoody? They're speaking shady things as if I wasn't even here. Too shady!

"Hey is princess going to be a problem?" Yuna points down at me curiously, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"I thought she already knew." shrugged Tamera, eyeing Vincent and tossing him the baton.

Something he responds to with another groan and attempt to bury himself into the table. The effect is very lackl.u.s.ter. An absolutely wonderful way of avoiding things. It will work as much as the people around you will allow it to.

I wack him with focaccia.

"What are they all talking about? What crazy are you planning now? Don't think I've forgiven you from last time. Who is your new patron? More importantly, will this impact my weapons research? How rich is this other patron? Certainly not richer than me. Don't you dare sell out on me!"

Each sentence is enunciated with a wack of fluffy bread. If anyone dares tries to help the necromancer I wack them too.

What a mature and reasonable young employer I am. Not. I'm three ok? No one ever listens to me without a little powerplay, even if it's something as stupid as fluffy violence. Hey, you, get back up. The others are useless at explaining things right now. All they do is be suspicious and keep eating.

"Vincent! Wake back up. Answer me."

"I got bacon and things wrapped in bacon! Are we having bread fights now?! Cap says I can't play with my food but he does that too!" pops back Lukas with a dangerously balancing platter of stuff.

From behind him follows some very concerned waitresses with the hot kettle of water, not trusting this child to safely make the delivery.

Tamera takes over in sweet talking the barmaids, petting Lukas on the head for a job well done. Something take makes the boy absolutely preen and sparkle. When he goes up to Amar to demand similar head pats from the smaller boy, the image is just so d.a.m.n cute that the following women all squeal in the back of their throats.

Yuna refills his tea with a frown, doing absolutely nothing, yet the sight of his cool profile still makes a younger maid, perhaps the owner's daughter, blush in a daze from afar. From underneath the focaccia turned weapon in my hands, Vincent is still trying to melt into the table.

I fear we make for a very strange looking group. That or just a table with kids. Also the same thing.

What a brunch.

"Crazy. All Ventrellas are violently insane. Then they attract more crazies." cries Vincent from down there.

I wack him with bread again. How come I'm the only one getting called out? What does that have to do with anything? Oh my, Vincent what have you done to your hair to make it so thin? Stress? Oh no no no, this won't do at all.

Just as I was about to pull him up by kiddy force, maybe threaten him with force feeing bread, my chair with me very much still in it was lifted off a few feet off the ground.

"Bad sidekick! He bought bacon! I'll save you Vinny!" declares Lukas, relocating me on the other side of the tavern table. Right into the kiddy corner.

"Save him from what? What did you call me? You eat my house's bacon all the time." I complain back.

"Bad Rosa, you sit here now. Copy sidekick number one!"

"....What?"

"Bacon makes everything better! Amar watch her!"

"I don't think I can. There's always the funny guards? They just can't hear us right now." head tilts the supposed first sidekick.

Seriously what? What kind of world does Lukas live in?

"Well do it anyways! She's a pretty bad sidekick but that's ok because everyone has to start somewhere! "

I'm going to ban this child from all meat products in my kitchens. None.

"Hmmm ok. Ah this bread is yummy. I knew I smelled anise around here. You should eat before things get cold." Amar smiles into his food.

The topics change so fast I can hardly keep up. All suspicious conversations gone with the appearance of new food. Tamera loading my plate up with muscle-building proteins while Yuna pours two more cups of mint tea. Sliding one over to a sobbing Vincent while Amar takes the other one, adding a far too generous amount of honey to his cup. I have enough protein but I stab a slice of bacon away from Lukas, just because.

I guess this spot is not so bad, for there is a much more appetizing selection of fresh food items here. It's just missing eggs. I'm used to eggs for brunch. And mimosa....oh well can't have it all.

Fine, let's just eat for now. I'll interrogate later, not like my minions can actually escape me. This much is enough for now.

I'm actually a very simple girl. Yummy things are yummy.