Cinder X Bella ~ Twenty-Three!

Spring had never sprung so beautifully, at least in Bella's mind. By the time all the snow had melted, and she was free to sit outside and watch the birds, the Beast Singer had—out of sheer boredom—worked with her mice to weave not only a continuation of the floor mat, but also wall coverings and an entire reupholstering of her mattress. The room might’ve smelled like a hayloft, but it was as intricately decorated as anywhere else in the house, if not as expensively.

Even more wonderfully, spring meant the return of her father. At least, by the end of the season. She couldn't wait to get to the Class Shrine, upgrade her class, and find any, any, any reason to never return to this house. 

A frown touched her lips, and Bella muttered to herself, “Then again, I'll only be almost seventeen… everyone automatically unlocks their Basic Class, their ‘child’ class, at ten years old. Anytime after turning fourteen, they can unlock their Advanced Class, but no one’s considered an adult until they unlock their Full Class, their ‘Adult’ Class, at eighteen. Even if I get to the Class Shrine, I won't be considered an adult until the unlock after this one.”

A noise on the patio behind her startled Bella, and she looked over to find Cattiva staring at her with an annoyed expression on her face. Her younger stepsister flopped into the chair opposite Bella. “Don't you have better things to do than sit outside and stare into the distance all day?”

“Literally no, Cattiva,” Bella replied with the exact same amount of acid in her tone. “Your mother made sure of that. Also, just because she talks down to me doesn't mean I'll let you do the same. Believe me when I say I can make your life just as uncomfortable as you make mine.”

Cattiva leaned back, surprised at the strength in Bella's tone, then her face went flat and unreadable. “I think you should be careful how you speak to your betters.”

Even though the words came out of the face of a petulant sixteen year old, the way they were said with such confidence and surety managed to send a chill up Bella's spine. Cattiva not only believed the words, she very much so meant them. 

Keeping her own face neutral, to hide how unsettled she felt, Bella crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Sisters are usually in the same class of people. Not to mention, I'm older than you. You live in my father's house.”

“This argument is beneath me.” Cattiva shrugged prettily then sat primly in her chair, mimicking Bella's earlier position as she stared at the sky. A moment later, she let out a shriek of disgust as a bird flew overhead and dropped a present into her hair. Flinging her chair to the ground as she rocketed to her feet, Cattiva ran off to clean herself. “I know you did that!” 

To add insult to injury, Bella called after her, “I don't know why you're so upset; some people think that's good luck!” 

Even though she actually hadn’t had anything to do with the insulting ‘gift’ from the passing bird, Bella knew she’d be blamed for it. As she ruminated over this thought, she started hearing the sound of someone breathing heavily. Her eyes drifted to the side, only to land on a man standing at the edge of the patio, breathing heavily and staring at her with bloodshot eyes as small rivulets of actual blood poured off him from dozens of locations. “Wah! Abyss!”

“Pardon my intrusion!” The man quickly held up his hands and waved them to show he wasn't armed. “I am but a messenger, delivering a letter.” 

“To the patio? At the back of the house?” Even as the words fell from her mouth, Bella felt bad for speaking them. “No, I'm sorry, I'm just still startled from your sudden appearance. Why are you here instead of at the front door? Why are you bleeding?”

The young man blinked and looked down at his arms, where thin trails of blood were running down his skin. “Oh, yeah, that. Something's wrong with your hedges; I ran around the entire property looking for a way in. The thorns got me, is all. That's also why I'm here instead of at the front door. I wasn't sure which way I was supposed to go. Anyway, the letter is from Signore Vigatori, meant for Signora-”

“I'll take it.” Bella firmly held out her hand, and the man reluctantly dropped the letter into her waiting palm. “Can I help clean you up? I have a wash basin just on the other side of that wall, and-”

He shook his head, wiping his arms mostly clear of the dripping blood. “Can you just point me toward the gap in the hedges? Maybe throw a couple copper my way for prompt service?”

They stared at each other for a few moments as the young woman tried to figure out how to get him out of here without alerting the entire household to his presence. A thought struck her, and she whistled a few bars. “Why don't you take a seat, and I'll figure something out?” 

The young man sat down, frowning and letting out a sigh of annoyance as she joined him at the table, unfolding the letter and immediately beginning to read. “Hey, I thought you said you'd-”

“Just a moment. Please.” Bella turned her full attention to the document, ignoring his annoyed muttering.

To the residents of my household,

I'll cut to the chase. The odds of me returning home this season are… slim. It pains me to write this, as I long to see familiar faces, dine at my own table, and sleep in my own bed. Yet, it seems that no matter what I do, our wares are simply not selling. I have taken the same path as my last route, as the towns had seemed in such dire need of the goods I provide. We had all hoped they would remember us fondly and greet me with open arms and coin aplenty.

Unfortunately, the farther we go from home, the worse the news becomes. A strange sickness has befallen these towns, and no one is willing to leave their homes for fear of growing ill. No markets are open, and I've been needing to go door to door to sell even the most meager of goods. Even then, I've been chased off more doorsteps than I care to count.

I must adjust my travel plans, taking a route not yet traveled. As I'm sure I don't need to tell you, if I fail to sell at least two wagons worth of these goods, we will be ruined. Matringa, I must ask you to halt the plans on the extensions of the manor. The luxury goods such as paints and high-end instrument accessories are not forgotten, they will just be brought home later than anticipated. Bella, I will be sending another letter to a friend to come and escort you to the Class Shrine; I have not forgotten my promise.

I know you will all be fine until I can make it home, but be safe and make me proud.

 Cordially, Alaric Vigatori.

“That's father, alright.” Bella shook her head sadly, “He signed it ‘cordially’ to his wife and daughter.”

Moments later, a shadow flicked across their table, and three copper coins tied together with string bounced on the table with a sharp note of metal on wood. The messenger scooped up the coins, nodding at Bella as she folded up the paper. As he turned to go, she took a deep breath, “Would you like more coin?”

Turning back, the young man raised an eyebrow, a wry grin on his face. “Does a wolf poop in the woods?”

“I… believe so?” They looked at each other for a moment longer, then Bella held out the folded message. “If you deliver that to the front door and don't say a word about letting me read it first, I'll make sure it's worth your time.”

“A little family drama, huh? Sure, why not?” The young man took the envelope, winked at her, and took off running. Bella waited a handful of minutes then stood from the table and walked inside, moving slowly through the house so she could arrive just as Bria closed the door in the messenger's face.

“Who was that?”

The maid looked at her with sadness in her eyes. “Never you mind, young miss. A letter arrived for Signora Matringa.”

Bella cocked her head, trying to show her interest, “Oh? Who is it-” 

“Surely you are not badgering the hired help in a blatant attempt to gain access to my private messages?” Matringa called imperiously from her perch on the stairs above them.

“It's Isabella, Signora,” The Beast Singer replied with confusion in her voice. “My name isn't Shirley.”

“Daft child,” Matringa grumbled as she stomped down the stairs. “Get out of my way. Bria, the mail.” 

Snatching the letter, the stepmother went back up the stairs, closing the door firmly behind her as she entered the study—as it wouldn't be proper to slam it behind her, and she was nothing if not the paragon of etiquette.

Slowly, carefully, Bella allowed a drawn-out sigh of relief to escape her lips. It had worked, and now there was no reason for her stepmother to suspect she knew exactly what had been written in the letter. Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at the hallway, “Let's see how much of a lie you’re going to tell me. If nothing else, it'll be a good baseline for future conversations.” 

Moments later, Matringa reappeared at the top of the stairs and called out, “Bella! Come back here; I have received word from your father.”

The young lady had stepped out of the room and waited a few moments to return, as though she hadn’t been skulking about. “The letter was from my father? What did it say? Is he almost home?”

Her acting seemed satisfactory, or at least Matringa was too focused on her own thoughts to notice anything strange. “Your father won't be returning this season; it appears he's run into some trouble on the road.” 

“Oh no! Is he okay? When will he be back, did something happen-”

Matringa held up a hand, palm toward the young woman, and Bella bit back her words. By the flash of delight that crossed her stepmother's face, perhaps her acting fearful and scared had been a bit too good. “Hush, child. Apparently, he's been running into some sickness along his usual route. It's nothing to worry about; this is what happens as winter ends. People get sick. Still, it's delaying him. I'm sure he'll send word when there is news to be had.”

She turned to leave, but Bella called up after her, “Is that all? May I read the letter? Surely, something awful must have happened if he's not going to make his normal timeline; he's a Perfect Merchant. A few people getting the sniffles shouldn't be enough to stop him.” 

“I've given you the information, and now I must make preparations.” Matringa turned back, all fake smiles gone from her face—which could’ve been cut from stone with how still she was keeping it. 

“As I'm sure you saw, this letter didn't arrive with a sack of gold so I could pay the servants, and it makes not a single mention of forthcoming funds. Since this is the case, I must dismiss the excess staff, cancel the expansion projects, and generally make other people's lives harder by having them lose their jobs with us. I hope you can find it in your heart to allow the needs of others to take precedence over you reading a letter from Daddy.”

As her stepmother stormed off, Bella turned and walked away as well, keeping her face neutral. If she hadn't already read the letter, she would be retreating to the cellar and furiously pacing until she did something foolish about the missive. 

Instead, she decided to do something completely unrelated to the letter, but possibly even more foolish. Upon returning to her room, she calmly looked around at the mice who were waiting for her, drawn by her having been walking and breathing in a rhythmic manner, understanding her intentions to have them gather. 

“Tonight's the night, everyone. It's time to get my fabric back.”