I Was Born The Unloved Twin 118 High And Low

I decided that last week and yet still here I am.

The farmhouse is a somewhat rundown building of warm st.u.r.dy brick and stone.

It's a plain solitary thing, in between a load of nothing. No people or civilization, just the openness of the vineyards and the young more delicate olive grove. Far into the sun baking fields, barely in sight of the seasonal manor house my family would inhabit. The maid road even further away.

If they bothered to see it, most think of it as perhaps a sizeable resthouse or supply storage for the laborers and goods that work and produce the land. Isolated and alone. The perfect place...for torture!

No one but those who know him would guess this is where the famed hero prefers to make home.

Seriously we have a perfectly good manor right over there! It's huge, beautiful, opulent, gradoise- all the stuff of dreams and pretty vacation photos of some dead famous person's home you can only pay for a tour of. The living definition of aristocratic countryside elegance!

I've already been reborn as a cursed little rich girl. Give me back my lap of luxury! My dolce vita! Sweet life of mine, give me that money that makes all of this worth it.

"What Rosa saying now?"

"Um, I think she wants sweets and money?"

"Oh, that's what she wants every day! Booooring."

"....sweets are yummy. There's really not much sweet stuff here? I think it needs more honey, I like honey."

"Bleaaah! Ahhhh that doesn't taste like honey!!! Ahhck bleck apotttooo-" Lukas starts spluttering and choking.

At the very farmhouse kitchen table, the boys are covered in flour. One day we shall figure out how not to make an absolute mess of ourselves. But until we get larger and much more coordinated, the kiddy ap.r.o.ns will just have to see a lot of use. But even ap.r.o.ns cannot protect us from ourselves.

"What are you ruining my good cake with now?" I smack some flour sticky hands with my wooden spoon.

Taking the jar Amar just poured into the mix, I take a wiff feeling my face scrunch up. Urg, sour. Bad idea, just not as bad as tasting it like Lukas did. My kiddy senses shouldn't have done that.

"Firewater?!"

"That's what Gable's recipe says?"

Amar points to the section of the text and yes, yes that is Gable's handwriting there. G.o.d d.a.m.n these ancient recipes and the lack of baking powers or....well a lot of things.

"...Fine! Just one teaspoon, no more than one teaspoon of that!" I try and fail not to choke.

Of course, I recognize my alcohols, even if I technically never had it outside the original's memories. Guppa is a great aromatic liquor, fine bottles of it grace my father's brandy collection, but before it's fully fermented there's a reason my it's nicknamed firewater. At least it's strong as h.e.l.l, yay for alcoholic fermentation and fluffy bread.

But not right now. Burning, my poor kiddy nose is burning! Oh my G.o.d it's like I had a bite of sus.h.i.+-less wasabi. Ahhhhh! The burn!

"Honey?"

Amar offers an open mouth ceramic jar my way. From the content inside he sticks a fat spoonful into Lukas mouth, the choking child a dangerous shade of red in the face.

As he feeds Lukas I gladly stuff my nose in, trying the neutralize the burn with the scent of sweet sweet honey.

Blessed be honey, all the honeys. From my usual citrus and wild blossoms to this dark local chestnut variety, either way it's all my territory. It is my liquid gold and only reliable source of sweetness. Note to invest a h.e.l.l lot more money in honey. All the money to the honey farmers and wild harvesters. My saviors.

Hmm, I wonder what beekeeping and honey production is like in this world?

While I do want to figure out what's the great big deal of the lack of sugar in this world's markets, that's going to take awhile. It clearly exists if sweets addicted kid and his long-gone secret stash is to be believed, but it feels like a lot of complicated problems tied in.

There's nothing wrong with focusing on and ramping up the honey production of this already lucrative product. Besides, it is much healthier and suitable to the local population.

Afterall not everyone is rich enough to afford a sweet tooth, unlike me. Me. Trapped in a rural farmhouse, admittedly a large one, like a peasant with an insane barbarian of grandfather.

Every day he makes me run laps before the crack of dawn. No obstacle courses needed, nature is here. Every day he forces me through all sorts of grueling labor like digging holes and picking produce. How evil, forcing a cute delicate little girl like me to pick beans and tomatoes with him in the horrible hair damaging sun. It's child abuse! Turning my hair redder is abuse!

The worst was forcing my to pick at and touch s.h.i.+t. Identifying wild boar signs to learn how to track and hunt them down. Wild boars apparently a year-long problem and a lot easier compared to the seasonal monster beasts.

Who makes a three year old follow and fight some wild boars huh? Who!?

"Cap! That bacon was so good! Ack, feed me more honey water. It still burns!"

"Boars meat is really stinky but Gable makes it smell and taste lot better. I liked it in the stew the first time."

"I like all bacon! But the big steak bacons were best! Still burning! "

These cursed minions have missed the entire point. But that is why I don't mind my mindless little rants around them. In one ear out the other. Little wild children like these understand nothing of my rich girl suffering.

"You fools, the best boar dish Gable made were the ribs of the young. The baby back ribs. " I merely point out.

"Nooooo Steak!"

"I thought it was a leg? But the stew was better."

"Ribs you children. The ribs."

"Steak! And you're a children! You're so little like a baby! Steak wins!

"That doesn't even make sense Lukas. And it was a leg! Ribs!"

"Yeah it was. So stew was better."

"It was all steak shape!"

The petty arguments take us nowhere but it does make beating the dough more heated. The dough likes that. Lots of beating and smacking going on there, very effective mixing.

There are some very good reasons why Gable doesn't actually let us cook by ourselves very often. Even in the rural farmhouse.

The strongest argument being that we are all children. Little children with troublesome tastes and nowhere near enough time and patience to do everything. Especially after the torture training and ch.o.r.es that grampa puts us through. While we maybe could we definitely should not.

The second being a threat, that we would have to clean up everything we made a mess off. By ourselves. No help.

That's a big deterrent alright. The farmhouse doesn't have any servants, and Gable's magical protective barrier keeps strangers from wandering in. At most a Ventrella employee from the manor comes by with some supplies or requests from grampa.

Today we're making some sweets for later.

A type of fried cl.u.s.tered honey cake, like a bunch of thick donut holes. Something we can all agree on given our kiddy sweet tooths, missing out on the supplies of my household. No regular honeybuns here. But it's simple enough to clean after that we're allowed to bake it in this tiny rural s.p.a.ce. As long as we're all working on one item and not three...in compet.i.tion ma.s.ses.

"It's super s.h.i.+ny now." Lukas pats at the thoroughly beaten dough.

"Now cover it and let it rest. Start cleaning up before Gable comes back and sees all this." I snap my yellow dough covered fingers.

Cleaning time we go. Split up boys!

It doesn't have to be spotless but Gable is oddly strict about some things. Probably for the best with Lukas around.

Normally I am a true spoiled young lady. Any unnecessary labor is taken care of by my many capable servents. I am the miss eldest Miss of the Ventrella household after all. Even if they don't like me they don't dare to disobey me to my face, especially in the last lifetime. Not if they want to survive. But those threats and orders don't work on silly minions and I'm actually secretly a commoner anyways.

However, it's really d.a.m.n hard to clean when you're so tiny and magicless! It's just hard in general. What is with all these s.h.i.+tty rags? What am I? Baby Cinderella? Is this how everyone cleans here? How do they have time for anything?

Oh, of course, they don't. I'm living in slightly better medieval times!

Okay, it's not that bad. But I have to provide my own soap and innovate a lot my own modern tools. Common things from baking sc.r.a.pers to an actually decent mop. I can miss modern items and their conveniences all I want, but I'm still stranded here without them.

What else can I do but try to make my own? So things are a little less awful.

I take a mental note to improve janitorial supplies when I'm not being held hostage by grampa. Come on I bet the entire troops can use the upgrade too. Can we get some wheels on buckets and things? Spray bottles? Swiffer sweepers? Steam mops?!

At least we actually have floors to clean. And not, bleck, straw and rushes that never get replaced.

The older that Rosalia got, the more she saw of the world, the more she knew to get the h.e.l.l back home. And for now, I greatly agree. Good clean Ventrella territory. Nice home territory. We have it so good here I don't care what my cousin or those prisses in the fas.h.i.+onable big cities say.

Backwater? Wildlands? Nothing around?

Well duh the troop are stationed here for a reason, you don't place a military encampment just anywhere. Besides we have actual tiled flooring and rooftops for all the ma.s.ses! It's not available absolutely everywhere but we have public baths and bakeries. The road system is actually pretty d.a.m.n good, my carriage motion sickness skyrocketing the moment we leave the borders. Building fires aren't a concern for us at all and the warm climate means food grows plentiful, even year-round.

As long as we plan ahead and store things better, the famines should be cut off.

That and maybe cut off those disease-ridden imports. Or reduce our own perishable exports.... Both. Both are a good idea.

Yes, there's a h.e.l.l lot of work improve on but all hail the s.h.i.+tty crazy grampa for crucial little things that make life a little less awful! I'll give him that.

"Alright there, wonderful job. I see no one has destroyed the kitchen...today." Gable walks back in, silently inspecting the s.p.a.ce.

"I would never." I pout.

Geez the trust is just so low when you're a kid.

"I only did it once!" complains Lukas.

Well okay then, nevermind.

"Once is more than enough. Thank you Amar and Rosalia, for watching out after this one. I see nothing broken. "

"Oh I broke things a lot more than once!"

"...We know Lukas, we all know. " Gable pats at the disaster of a boy.

In the end, the s.h.i.+ny b.a.l.l.s of dough are put away to rise and we're marched off for a quick cleaning ourselves. To the water pump and kiddy basins to splash our hands and faces. Then it's off to whatever torture grampa has in store for today.

Whatever shall it be now?

Herding evil biting goats? Falling off way too big pony rides? Crawling inside and cleaning the giant wine tanks? G.o.d forbid, mixing more hops, manure and 'acid bug' nightsoil for crop fertilizer? All of them again?!

Oh G.o.d I've adapted too well to this farming peasant life.

Send help. I wasn't made for this. This isn't visiting and playing agricultural tourists with father. This isn't my herb garden or nerding around. There's no mother waiting at the end of the day with all my soft fancy material comforts.

No. This is actual everyday child labor, made thousands of times worse with grampa. It's as if I'm truly a peasant farmer's child?! It goes far beyond just 'ch.o.r.es'.

Gable is wonderful, and thank all the heavens he can cook, but he does absolutely nothing to stop any of grampa's 'bonding' time. All that 'hero training'. It's awful.

Take me back.

I can't believe I'm saying this but I want my nerd and jailkeeper back. No I need them back.

Where the h.e.l.l are my disgustingly rich parents? It's been weeks? Come back and pick me up already?!! Mama? Papa?! How could you leave me like this you awful irresponsible excuses of parentals?! Do you not remember what happened last year?! Never trust me with grampa!!!

"Gable?" I ask, hand and head dripping cold water from where I dunked myself "Just...where are my parents right now?"

I hear wood crack and break but when I look up, Gable is perfect as ever, smiling so beautifully that angels would weep.

"Somewhere they're not supposed to be." but his voice sounds colder than the ice cellar underground.

"Is that....a bad somewhere?"

"Oh oh oh! I know! They're on a super quest and fighting a lot and playing a lot. They're so old so they gotta be strong and it gets boring carrying around weak little babies like Rosa and Stinky!" splashes Lukas, before a flying towel comes to violently dry him fluffy.

Thank you Lukas, for not giving me such a nickname. I much appreciate it.

"I think they fell down a hole." Amar says without missing a beat. "a really really deep hole."

"Is it deeper than an outhouse?" I snark.

"Um yeah...." boy tilts his possibly very brain-damaged head.

Amar has been very off lately.

I'm sure it's partly due to constantly getting kidnapped by grampa or whatnot. What an unstable environment for a child? Sure he still reacts and responds to everyone, even my strange creature of a little sister, but it's delayed. A breath taken too long, put on pause.

Brain damage maybe, obviously. Because he's not a dull slow-witted child, despite what he sounds like. You'de have to be a grade-A idiot to keep falling for that.

Which I have steadily increasing evidence that Lukas is.

The other boy immediately nodded his head in acceptance when Amar said he broke a few bones in a game of tag gone wrong. Something that he got most of them back.

The blonde child even further happily distracted whenever Amar suggests a game or asks to be carried somewhere while his ankle was still injured.

That's the only thing I left unhealed from whatever rebroke him. Gable and the strange plant had done some work on speeding up the healing process.But don't think I can't tell/

Whatever healing magic my twin had filled up that other day was run down back low. Some parts even worse? Broken bones nothing compared to the new hungry holes inside. Something that felt of bad internal damage and showed most clearly in his barely touched meals at the beginning of this farmhouse kidnapping.

I'm going to make him a fool's hat.

In fact, both of them can have little dunces hats! It can be cute as I put them in the idiot corner.

"Thank you both for theory one and two on where my parents went. Off to fight like some common adventurer or down a deep hopefully clean hole. Did anyone push them? You have really rea.s.sured me on my worries."

"You're welcome for my awesomeness!" dries off dunce number one.

"Ah, you still think I pushed your cousin. It was really funny but I wasn't even there?" dunce number two fights off a floating hairbrush.

Fools, all of them.

"I also think no one breaks bones all over from a game of tag! You're fast when you're not all broken." I don't relent.

It's not like I can make him stop lying, but calling out is

"Oh. That. It was a really really unfair game of tag. But kinda fun? Not the last part..."

"Tag! I want to play! I'll get the bread again."

"Not that kind of tag Lukas. No more wasting good bread, grampa is banned from the kitchen anyways. "

"Okay. It will be fun if we can all play together?"

"I don't trust any of your playing. That bread hurt and my bones aren't for breaking. " I complain.

Gable claps, indicating for us to fall silent and in line as best we can. It's either that or be swept up by a swarm of floating towels, soap bar and yes even the angry hairbrush.

"Alright then, all of you on your best behavior. No making a ruckus there or on the way, no disturbing the poor people doing their work. Lukas, put the bread sword down."

"Awwwww!!! But-"

"Rosalia, be nice."

"I am nice! Much nicer than anyone deserves."

"And Amar, you're barely cleared and permissed to walk on your own. Don't let me catch you sneaking around spying in the middle of the night when you should be sleeping, again."

"Okay."

"That is not a challenge." Gable clarifies.

"Oh...Okay."

Gable is so right. Discipline the brat!

But it is disappointing that instead of carrying me up into his perfect comforting arms, Gable picks up Amar and starts walking off. Unfair as I feel it is, Gable is being careful of the child's old fas.h.i.+oned healing injuries.

....Hey wait, spying? Like eavesdropping? Does that mean Amar wasn't lying about my parents falling down a hole? Seriously?!

"Gable....is everything okay?" I ask.

I'm not worried or anything!

It's just been a while. Nothing is supposed to happen to my birth givers until years later. They don't go off and die on me until I'm at least 10. How inconvenient of them.

Carriage accident my a.s.s. Like a carriage of all things could kill a Ventrella.

No bodies were ever found either.... I don't think my change of effects would speed things up to that point. There shouldn't be any such thing as a carriage accident so soon. But it's true that there's always dangers on the road. Our enemies hiding in the shadows as much as they do in plain sight.

"Duhhh, your ma is way too scary to get beat up! She'll be all kyaa kyaa pwew boom boom! And they'll go aaaaahhhhhhhh bleeech and die." gestures Lukas.

"I think so too, don't worry about them Rosa. Your parents are ok. I think? " Amar mostly agrees from behind Gable's shoulder.

"I wasn't worried or anything! I was just making sure...Gable?"

I tug at his leg as we walk, not even bothering to act cute. Admittedly a little more childish than usual though.

It's a very reasonable concern given my family's history and future ok?

They wouldn't just leave Lilyanne like that. They've never left her alone for long, hardly out of their overprotective sight her entire life. Or at least the life and years they were around to witness. Only something truly terrible would keep them away from their precious perfect frail little...well there was the time they just threw her at grampa.....hmmm.

Anyways they're very behind schedule for this trip. I pestered Alfonso for them before I was so cruelly whisked off by grampa, trapped in his torture farm. Especially for father, he's going to have so much make up work to do.

Technically I have a lot of make up work to do too. But I'm not the one missing here, possibly down a hole.

"They'll be more than fine," Gable tiredly sighs, plopping down kid after kid into the balloon basket, myself included.

The slight breath of annoyance in his voice is exactly the same when grampa or Lukas does something inconsequentially stupid. That sure does rea.s.sure me more than anything else.

Especially given how grampa is already curled up in the corner of the basket, moping. In the ridiculous toddler sling, a curious Lilyanne slaps at his face to no avail.

"Ron....Ron get up from there." Gable sighs, busying himself with ordering all of us to our seats and seat belts.

This is a strange but effectively fast way of travel to float over by air. I don't know how and when they fitted a hot air balloon with kiddy seats but I appreciate the safety feature. Especially since we're all way too short too see anything from the bottom of the basket.

Yeah no more climbing or freedom for us when the balloon is in operation.

"They just grow up so fast!!!" sobs grampa,

With those oversized musclar arms, he clutches Lilyanne like a toy doll in a suffocating hug. The action causing the poor girl to girl to squeak and giggle hapilly, hugging back with no sense of self-preservation. She's already so oxygen-deprived from this family's hugs, that it permanently disabled her developing brain. That's the medical reasoning I'm going with.

"Ron...."

"I'm so happy she picked up the war hammer again! I've kept it polished for so long. Perfect for destroying and wooing! So fast! Oh I remember when it was just papa and Maria going cave diving...through the lava pits and crawling critter....good times....but that's all over now."

"Ron please... stop that."

"I'm just tooooo old and embarra.s.sing now! Can't a father even make a portal call?! It's been so long, I was just going to remind her how to dismember "

"Please the children are watching. Stop before they learn these habits-"

"Am I too embarra.s.sing for you too Gabe!?"

"You have always been soul shatteringly embarra.s.sing. Now hand her over, she's not Maria, and start this blasted thing or so help me-"

It's a little like watching a bad comedy skit. Maybe someone else arguing parents in the car? Ha, I'm just too funny.

Gable forcefully frees my sister while kicking grampa back up into place. The crazy old man is the only adult that can properly drive the balloon. It's another one of his awful inventions.

Now I don't know much about hot air balloons but I can say this one doesn't feel real. It feels more like an amus.e.m.e.nt park ride. The shape is odd. The kiddy seats spin on rotation unless locked down. The basket is rather indescribable to any modern sense of design or appeal, with so many odd parts that even a children's fantasy artist would scream in horror at the logistics.

But hey, it's a grampa build monster. What do you expect?

Normally the balloons are used within the troops for scouting, viewing and other such useful security purposes. They're also often still tethered to the ground for better control.

Only grampa would try to freestyle steer this hot air death trap anywhere. This isn't modern times with modern technology. Grampa isn't a trustworthy person, but he's the driver. Every cursed time we get on this thing I fear we will crash into a firey deflated inferno. Today is the 4th time, and I fear.

Gable hold me! But alas, all he does is buckle in Lilyanne into her kiddy car seat. Then re-buckles down Lukas, again and again till he has 5 times the amount of seat belts the rest of us do, much to the loud little boy's complaints.

"I only almost fell out once!"

"Once is more than enough Lukas."

"Cap! Tell him I don't need it! I really really don't! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaase!"

"Ron....do not. Don't you dare."

"But I don't wanna! It's embaaaaaarrrrraaaasing!"

As gorgeously beautiful as Gable is at all times, and I'm sure in every stage of his life, are those s.e.xy eye wrinkles forming at his eyes? Oh ho ho ho the tall tell signs of stress and parenting on any weaker man is merely a crown to Gable's mature charm and appeal.

".....THEY GROW UP SO FAST!!!" sobs my own sad sad pathetic grampa, back on the ground by Lukas.

d.a.m.n it I want to switch! Take him, take my grampa and give me Gable instead! This isn't fair. Oh but life never is.

Eventually, though the balloon does ready itself and takes off, grampa up at the helm. Heat based magic stones firing up the, lifting us off.

It would be a lovely view, traveling up in the air, if it wasn't so G.o.d d.a.m.n terrifying! No one should trust grampa with anything!

To distract myself from the impending thoughts of doom and cras.h.i.+ng, I observe not the great beautiful heights but my immediate surroundings inside the basket. Gable is as calm as ever, though he does fuss a bit over the children.

Lukas is ...well he's Lukas. There's a reason he has 5x the seatbelts, enough said.

Lilyanne is a clinging babbling thing, even seatbelted in. She wants to play more with the ropes or perhaps crawl herself back into the toddler sling on grampa's chest. Active but no fear or appreciation at all in just what we're riding in. Like girl, we are literally flying. This is a big deal, especially for this world. But what can you do about kids that filthy rich and spoiled, these luxuries are just as easy as breathing for them?

Even I get fussed over, which I would never mind if it was Gable doing it. The only problem is that he incorrectly thinks I have a fear of heights or strange modes of transport. I actually have a fear of grampa, which is a big difference and includes a lot.

Only Amar gets the good calm child status. Staying snug and tight in his kiddy seat, his little hand clenched and eyes sparkling wide over anything they can see over the expanse. Brain-damaged as he is, he's the only one of the kids that comprehends just what a mesmerizing sight and experience this is. Every time.

Who else gets to fly in this world? Who can travel in such style? Isn't the life of a minion of mine great?

"....Yeah. It's fun. Really really fun. " Amar breathes out, softer than ever in the blowing wind.

Ohohoho of course it is....wait did I say that out loud again? Curses!

"Hang on everyone!" suddenly bellows the old man from above,

The wind blows a little cold and the seats start spinning like a kiddy carnival ride. G.o.d d.a.m.n it grampa! It's a sickening 360 ride!

When we start quickly spinning the other way, and the childish laughter dies down to screaming and oxygen deprivation, at least on my part, Gable locks down the spinny seat ride and readies us for a descent. The absolute worst part.

I haven't died from grampa's driving yet but just like Gable says, once is more than enough.

Lalala don't think about it, lalalala grampa don't crash laa dee la la la don't crash and killing us all in a shooting balloon falling from the sky!~ Nopey nope nope I don't wanna diiiiiieeee~

"What she saying now?!"

"Um.....I think Rosa's head is broken?"

"Yeah that sounds right!"

If someone cute gotta go down with the balloon make it the minions and not I. How rude.

But just like every other time grampa takes us on an impromptu day flight, we touch down soft and easy. A slowly building testimony to grampa's driving skills.

Or is it piloting? What do you call it on a hot air balloon? Can we make this thing any less rickety? When is a blimp or a plane getting invented? Obviously never since those weren't around in the original's memory. How does one go from hot air balloon to a blimp?

It's a good thing I can totally keep my mouth shut and any reckless crazy building nerds in this cursed family can't ever hear me... Eh it's fine. Father isn't around and no one knows what a blimp is anyways.

As grampa parks, handing the ropes down to waiting out stationed troop members, Gable finally allows us back our freedom. The seatbelts being very childproof and Rosalia proof, aka complicatedly manual. Thanks for the trust.

Surveying the grounds outside, back on solid ground, I can see it's a mine. A staircase cut pits and chunks outside, leading to the deep dark main reinforced entrance. Not just any dark gloomy mine though, the land and surrounding mountains are streaky white. The air is a bit chalky where work is fresh but polished up, this while place would be a ridiculously expensive thing of beauty.

It's a marble mine.

Oh how I love being rich! Oh ho ho ho! Another luxury export that makes me my money. Technically grampa doesn't completely own this quarry, taking a portion shared among the locals, but it still basically belongs to me. Him technically, but more importantly me!

I think we should raise prices. Such hard work to mine this fine marble for some stupid n.o.bles to make flooring and mansion decor out of. We'de be fools to not brand ourselves higher. We can more than afford it, with the demand for luxury rising in the next couple years.

It's business plans and money signs in my eyes are I view this beautiful mess of a mountain. Oh I just love being rich so d.a.m.n much. Sure it's not a metal mine or some precious old ore like other territories but work with what you got. As Rosalia Ventrella, I got so much good resources!

"Rosa rosa rosa rosa rosa rosa?" tugs my little sister from behind. "why Rosa laughing?"

"...I wasn't. It's nothing. Let's go Lily, follow behind grampa really carefully alright. It's super dangerous here."

"Nuh uh, Rosa go 'ho ho hoooo hohoho'!"

My sister tries and fails at the strange villainess like laugh, unfortunately, inherited from mother's. It's just not in her though. She sounds like a dying bird? Ah -300 cute points. Sorry Lily. Never go down the dark route, it's for the best.

It's a standard work day at the marble quarry, so we all stay out of the way as the adults instructed. Gable has disappeared somewhere while Grampa takes us on another one of his half tours of h.e.l.l, and half getting dragged to work he actually has to do. It's mostly just people coming up and asking him stuff, constantly.

I want to say he's paying people to give him attention and make him look important. But I know that's far from the truth. The life of a Ventrella is a busy one.

Grampa may be a crazy old man who runs away a lot, but there has to be reasons to that. More people greet him positively, but the tiring work seems never ending. Even if he has other people a.s.signed to work on it, a lot of things still end up in his hands. Following him where ever he goes, or waiting for him when he comes back. Here in the mines, it comes from the rail tracks and mining carts to the lighting system. Recruit advancements, rotations and requests to cases injuries.

I lightly kick at a track, built out of solid melted and crafted metal ore. Not too unlike the smaller smoother version running materials and supplies through the troops garrison grounds.

In a world as backward as this...if my vague other world history studies serve me right, this shouldn't exist. A lot of s.h.i.+t should not exist and in other places, other countries and territories, a lot of things don't.

It's advancement....but more than that it's a lot of hard annoying work.

This isn't a magic fantasy, even if magic does exist here. You can't just build something and everyone lives happily ever after. The rails fall into disrepair, accidents happen, they break down and need as up upgrade as they do expansions as more areas become workable. A whole system of things evolving around it. Eventually that something cool and wonderful becomes mundane, maybe even a personal burden.

From the old drafts that I looted, in any life time, I think grampa must have really liked rails once. He worked hard on a lot of funny designs. Gathering expensive raw material and even more difficult to find labor, willing to lay down these brand new things, all before these sort of things paid out.

And now that they've been running for years, so much so there are pesky foreign flies still trying to copy and steal the designs, grampa only frowns, quickly sighs, when the issue to them comes up again.

Isn't that sad? To come to find something you once must have really been pa.s.sionate about, something you maybe loved, and then lost it in yourself. Lose the spark and find it tedious, even if it's family and useful. It's a loss, as it is natural.

You can always fall out of love with something. Things are bound to go wrong.

I kick at the rails again, waiting for grampa in this particular area. However it seems I kicked too hard at something that might have been acting as a break for a mining cart.

A cart that my sister had crawled in with the help of an awfully monstrous minion.

"Cool it moves! Bye stinky stealing baby!" Lukas waves the rolling cart off, apparently gleeful in my accidental disaster.

"No no no not cool! Lukas not cool, Lily get back here."

"Haha are you racing the cart! IS that what we're playing now?! I can do that!"

"Yes, that's exactly it. Minions go run and stop that cart! Min...where's Amar? Ack Lily hang on!"

"Wheeeeeee~"

The sight and sound of my baby sister gets farther and farther away. Down the mine shaft and into the distance.

There's no time to question where disappearing minions go or staying close to gramps, no time for anything at all. I have the d.a.m.n protagonist girl to save?!

Curse these short little legs! They can't win!

Against all common sense I hop and climb into another cart and a parallel track. There's not even time to be proud of how I did it myself, it's go time.

"Hey no fair I want a cart!"

"No time, get in or don't Lukas!

"Not bad sidekick, go go go!"

With a great push and hop Lukas gives us the running momentum this cart needs to catch up. It's a terrible chase down the marble mine shaft. A very bad game of Mario cart, very very bad.

"This is so coooooool!" whoops Lukas, the mine carts somehow getting even faster.

The scenery rushes by, starting to look like a blur. But there's plenty of eyewitnesses open-mouthed and wondering what the h.e.l.l to do, or if they should bother doing anything. A weird situation I know, but can someone stop that baby in the other cart!?

She's not even doing anything, how is she so far ahead?!

Is that a newer upgraded cart and track? d.a.m.n it grampa, upgrade all of them!

The mine cart ride comes to a screeching halt, sparks and all as more than a few crossbow arrows shoot out. Some land awkwardly in front to be crushed underneath the speeding cart, but one of them hits what could be a brake lever on the cart. It makes the awful sound of metal dragging against metal when a sudden incline of mined marble shows up out of nowhere, finally stopping the slowing down cart. The same could be said for the one I'm riding in, an arrow striking the sides and halting us yards behind Lilyanne.

"Not bad newbie!" a squishy bear of a man hollers over a small scattered crowd.

I may insult grampa about being bear like, or just an awful monster in general, but at least he pa.s.ses off as a decent hero worthy looking man.

This man...is big....all way around, with chest hair so heavy I thought it was a legitimate fur s.h.i.+rt. He heavy-handed pats the back of a woman not even half his size, causing her to cough and stumble holding the standard troop's crossbow in her arms.

Oh it's that recent new recruit. The one with the digging? Huh, did fitting place to haze train her here.

"You kids?"

She lowers down the crossbow with a harsh look underneath the wrapped face mask. This far down most people are covered in dust and grime. At least they all have pants down here.

The big fluffy bear man easily plucks a stupidly giggling Lilyanne out of the mine cart, spins her like he's inspecting a bag of flour, and set her down on the filthy floor to walk and ground herself. The whole time Lilyanne seems like she's having a grand time.

I worry and she has fun. Great. Nothing has changed at all.

"Is there anyone else?" the stern newbie runs over to inspect our cart, first taking us out to safety before scanning the surrounding areas.

"Thank you for that. We went really far with these things, and are very sorry. If you could please help us get back up closer to the surface where my grampa last saw us." I curtsy and request.

"That was so awesome! Amar missed out, and I'm gonna tell him all about it. Do you think we can go again?!"

"Wheeeeeee Lily so dizzy now"

Pulling the both of them by the ears, I force curtsy again. Making sure to look up with that safe but respectable beseeching 30% look, the one that father bans at a certain higher power. Weirdo.

"Oh ho ho ho I apologize for them, we're all in shock. "

I still feel the questioning stares. As expected when screaming kids come rus.h.i.+ng through your work mine. Very sorry about that.

"Is there no else? No other boy-....no others with you?" coughs the woman, the fatigue, dust and recent excitement causing her to tear up a bit.

Now that I look at her without her colorful skirts and the big semi-automatic crossbow pointed at me, she's a rather young woman. Not frail or delicate I would say, but smaller framed and with small wrists. As I noted before, definitely not a farmer's daughter and certainly not miner material either.

"It's just us that are at fault. Thanks to you all we're safe. Now if we could just request a quick ride back up, we can put this all behind us and reward you greatly. If no one could mention is part to-"

"That won't be necessary- thank you all for what you've done for them."

It's like a ray of sunlight has s.h.i.+ned into this place, a heavenly pluck of the harp and lute. Oh that voice, that pale golden hair, with Gable's presence fresh air overwhelms that place. We are not worthy.

But with Gable's stern voice, that also means we are in so much trouble.

"Gable! It was so fun because there are lots of things going down so the carts got really really fast and we went whoosh and it shook and sometimes it almost shook us out and smashed us against all the pointy rocks and Amar you missed it! It was scary fun and you like fun-"

"Gable, I beg of you to hear my defense. It was all Lukas' fault! See Lukas pushed Lilyanne into the cart, and she's a dumb baby that really made things worse so it can be her fault too, anyways-

"Wheeeeeeeeeee! Rolling and b.u.mping and rolling! Lily screamy a lot! Lily thirsty now. "

Like a masterpiece painting of a religious figure hung high above us mere mortals, Gable stands there with a small child in the crook of his arm and a halo practically glowing behind his head. Such light, such beauty.

That is until he sets Amar down and pulls out the toddler leash. Leashes?

Ah s.h.i.+t.

Oh the contrast, such glory, and perfection on top, stupid toddler leashes closer down to his hands. Unsurprisingly it's Lukas that he straps in first.

Ahahaha that thing is thicker than mine! Ahahahaha loser. I bet it's ice proof.

"Your merits today will not be forgotten. Thank you again...for helping our dear...precious...very lively little ones." Gable smiles, clicking the toddler leashes on like it's a seat belt.

Oh woe is me. Any reputation I may have set has been crushed, crumbled. No one can respect a little boss in a leash. This wasn't even my fault!? I didn't even enjoy that Indiana Jones ride, needed more deep drops and turns for variety.

What can I say? I'm a modern girl with sophisticated tastes. Even for thrill rides.

"Barnat, I'll be sure to pa.s.s along your excellent duties in looking after this bunch." Gable shakes the big man's gigantic hand.

Oh dear, Gable does not have small hands, the length longer than my own grampa, but this visual comparison makes it look as if his were a smooth dainty little porcelain doll. I bet he could make grampa look like a fuzzy teddy bear to this real bear if they were side by side.

"Don't be worrying about it! They do what they do and I sure can't make them ahahaha" laughs Barnat, before pulling the frozen stiff woman out to the front "'sides it was the newbie Ca.s.s that did the first shootin. Go on then."

"...."

I understand. She probably never saw a man as elvenly gorgeous before in her life. These last few weeks must have also been harsh and devoid of beauty. Why she's utterly speechless in front of Gable.

Reverently, she drops to her knees. As anyone should upon the fortune that is seeing Gable, what manners.

"This servant humbly greets the master. Forgive me, for all the ways I am unfit to appear before you."

Oooookay a little heavy there, but I still completely understand. Our Gable is as kind as he is cruel, with the toddler leash, and quickly has he floated up and dusted off.

"There is no need for that child. Ca.s.s? Your points and merits shall be rewarded."

"...tis Caspar" she lifts her head, gaze intense.

"Very well then Ms. Casp-"

"That name's too hard? Ca.s.s is easier. Everyone else here calls her that." Amar's softly speaks out of turn.

If I wasn't on the toddler leash I'd ear pull him for being so suddenly rude. Ah but these kids really have no one to teach them proper manners or how to converse appropriately. I haven't been doing a great job there either, falling into their pace.

"The arrow was cool." Amar walks freely, rolling his still bandaged ankle slightly. "Can you shoot fast hares and monster afar? That's very hard?"

The stiff woman bites her lips, wipes away her Gable induced tears, and nods, "Of course I can you brat, even from a chebel away."

"You sound like a liar. But that's ok? All adults are.... Thanks for helping. Bye now Ca.s.s."

With that, Amar shyly runs back to Gable. The man may not have him on a leash, but Amar silently relents to being carried back again. It would be so cute if that wasn't such a great spot, on Gable, while the rest of us are tied up like this.

"Let's go now children." Gable chides.

"But..." I want to defend myself.

"What did I say earlier And what did you do? Don't answer that out loud Lukas, think about it. "

Back up we go, personally escorted, and tied down, by Gable. Wonderful how none of us can get into any trouble, or anywhere like this. Great field trip everyone.

"I smell bacon!"

"Not exactly Lukas but close. You'll like it, it's a specialty here."

"I like all bacon! Even the things you say aren't bacon but are bacon."

"Meat Lukas, we call them meat."

"Lunchie time? Rosa we nom noms soon, Rosa nomnom and happy agains!"

From up in Gable's arms, taunting in our punishment, Amar giggles down at us getting walked like a pack of puppy dogs. That m.u.f.fled laughter is as innocently mocking as anything I've ever heard in any world.

When we finally get back to grampa, and supposed lunch, it's to the crazy old man pulling slabs of marinated something out of tiny marble tombs. His wrist covered in a substance colored dried blood as he laughs maniacally to himself.

Mother....

Father....

Please hurry up and come pick me up.