Cinder X Bella ~ Eleven!

Alaric’s departure the following day was done without pomp and barely a word of farewell. With the death of her mother, Giada the younger had tendered her resignation, so the final non-indentured servant, Luca, went along with him. As the caravan was full of expensive trade goods, it was at another location, under a careful guard. The two men rode away, quickly becoming nothing less than figures in the distance, then they were gone.

As Bella watched them go, her eyes were hard. “I have a year to figure out what's going on here and gather proof to show Father when he gets back. On the plus side, I’ve figured out what the long-term instructions I'm going to give my animals are.”

Reaching into one of the many pockets of her servant dress, she stroked the soft, fluffy fur of one of the house mice. “I think I'll call you Bert. You and Mert will be in charge of teaching the other mice what I teach you, though I may have you hold off on the waltz for now.”

The crooked smile on her face fell all the way off as Malvagio strolled up to her, a bored expression showing as she delivered her message. “Mother wants to see you. She says ‘now’.”

“You know, Malvagio, it's so nice of you to seek me out to personally deliver a message. I think this is the first time you've ever come looking for me. Thanks!” The intense cheerfulness Bella wore like armor left her a stepsister blinking behind her, wondering if she was being teased. 

Without waiting even another moment, Bella hurried into the house, going up to the study, where she assumed Matringa would be waiting for her. As she knocked on the door, the voice of the older lady drifted down from above. “I'm all the way upstairs, Bella.”

The forced smile on her face faded away, though she worked hard to keep some semblance showing. Stepping up the stairs to the next landing, she found her stepmother waiting just outside her room, arms crossed and nodding to herself as if she’d just received a great revelation. 

“Bella, with all of your tasks, I find that this room you've been in is a great waste of space.” Matringa continued speaking, clearly thinking she was throwing Bella for a loop. But, in truth, the young woman had been expecting something like this since the day she’d met her father's wife. That it’d taken this long was already a boon. “There's so much more this room could be filled with! So much closet space is going to waste, and there’s plenty of light you don't get to enjoy, as you’re busy all day.”

“Humm…” Matringa stepped into the room, walking over to the window and drumming her fingers along the sill. “Yes, I think this is the right decision for all of us. Given your new duties, it would be for the best if you had a room close to the kitchen. No one wants to have everyone shouting down the hallway like some hellion; I should be able to ring for breakfast and have it brought to me when I need it.”

Casually waving at the closet, Bella's stepmother gave her an order, “Gather your things and bring them downstairs. We both know it shouldn't take too long. Humm… make sure to leave the bedspread; it matches the colors of the room so well. You understand this is for the best, yes?”

Bella let her eyes travel around the spacious room which had been hers ever since she could remember. The flowers on vines going up the left corner of the room had been drawn by her mother. On the right, her height had been marked since the moment she could stand still for her parents to measure her. Only her determination to play her part so she could effectively destroy this woman kept Bella from melting down as she quietly spoke, “I understand, stepmother.” 

“That's wonderful.” Matringa started walking out of the room, turning back and pausing for a long moment as she looked at the downcast young woman. “I think we are not on as good of terms as I had hoped for when I first arrived. Perhaps, at that time, I was too hasty.”

Bella looked up, though the hope in her eyes was dashed in the next moment as the lady of the house delivered a final blow just before exiting. 

“Yes… allowing you to call me by my first name so familiarly… I think it has given you an inflated sense of disrespect for me. From now on, you may call me Signora Vigatori, Signora Matringa, or just Signora.”

“As all servants would,” Bella replied quietly to the empty room. She nodded to herself, longer than necessary or perhaps was healthy, as she digested the newest insults to her status and sense of self. “I'm going to figure out how to ruin you, Signora, and I'm going to enjoy doing it.”

After gathering her clothing, she marched down the hallway and the stairs, heading to the kitchen and looking around with mild confusion until BeBee motioned to her with a kind expression on her face, opening a door directly adjacent to the preparation area. Bella nodded her thanks, glad at least the voiceless servants and she had a semi-decent relationship, after all the times she’d gone out of her way to make their lives easier.

There was a thin layer of dust over everything in the small space, as this would have been Cook's room, if she had used it. Instead, she’d spent most of her nights in the small house Alaric had gifted to her husband when he had been alive. Technically, her daughter, Giada, still owned the deed, but Bella was certain that wouldn't last long. She set her things down and tried to swallow down her anger. 

The room next to the kitchen wasn't dreadful nor drafty. It just wasn't hers. Bella amended that thought a moment later, letting out a rueful chuckle. “It's mine now, I suppose. For as long as it takes for me to win.” 

With her meager belongings settled into the comparatively cramped quarters, Bella surveyed her new domain. It wasn't much, but for now, it would do. “This isn't going to just be where I come in at the end of the night and collapse into sleep. This is going to be my war room.”

Bella plopped down onto the narrow bed, which took up more than half the room, pulling out the item which would be integral to her success: her task-list notebook. Ever since she had found out about her father snooping, she’d taken measures against it being read without her permission—more than just hiding it, she had figured out a way to write in a shorthand, which would be unrecognizable to anyone but her.

“First off, I need to get used to the layout of this new area.” Mert, now an elderly mouse compared to when she’d first found him, crawled out of her pocket and peered up at her. “You've been with me the longest, so I need you to help me train the next generation of mouseketeers. They’ll be my eyes and ears in the floors and walls, but it will be a dangerous task. Are you willing?”

She spoke to the mouse without attempting to use her Minor Creature Control, only communicating her thoughts and desires. That way, it was three times as gratifying when the mouse nodded solemnly, squeaking its desire to join her in this war of endurance. Over the next few days, she focused on training her squeaky allies, creating six different groups, which would each be in charge of searching through a different part of the house.

“Bert, Mert, Luke, Mary, Perla, and Suzy,” Bella addressed the six mice she had chosen to lead the individual groups. They were standing on their hind paws, sniffing at the air as they tracked her movements back and forth in the small room. “I need comprehensive knowledge of what's going on in the house. The most dangerous area will be directly above my room, Father's study. Only the bravest and most noble among you should volunteer for this duty.”

With a squeak, Mert stepped forward, his beady eyes bright with fervor. Bella nodded at him, acknowledging his intent. “Go and decide who will be in your charge, then. As for the rest of us… let's divide up the house.” 

Days passed quickly with all the things Bella needed to focus on, and her nights were long as she worked on using her abilities to communicate with the dozens of mice she needed for her plans. Over time, she implanted clear instructions, etching them permanently into their tiny minds. 

However, they were still mice. There was only so much they could remember at any one time, so Bella worked to train them to follow certain key commands. When she needed them to search an area, she would softly sing, “Avoid the light, search for the shadows, watch for the cats who prowl at night.”

To anyone who may have overheard her, the small song was gibberish. Yet, to the mice, every other person in the house was superimposed over the image of a deadly predator. As weeks turned to months, and the next generation of mice were taught not only by her, but by their progenitors, it got to the point where no one else in the house ever saw so much as a whisker. 

As summer turned to autumn and into winter, the Beast Singer created a half-dozen other small songs, though most of them were keyed toward helping her with her various tasks throughout the day. With the assistance of dozens of other creatures, even the most frustrating tasks Matringa threw onto her shoulders were completed with a smile on Bella's face. She could always be found humming, singing, to all outside appearances completely at peace with her new lot in life.

Eventually, even her sharp-eyed stepmother began letting her guard down, culminating in her joyful joke one night at ‘family dinner’. “Bella, I've seen such improvement in you since your father went on his travels. Truly, I've greatly appreciated the change I've seen in you… especially your quiet focus on the tasks you’re given. Perhaps the other maids’ penchant for silence has been rubbing off on you!”

Between the lack of sleep, which made her mind feel groggy all day, and the work which hardened her body but caused her to constantly be filled with aches and pains, Bella simply didn't have the energy to even attempt a rebuttal as her stepsisters tittered and giggled. This turned out to be for the best, as Matringa broke into a smirk at the lack of response. 

“Perhaps we've been asking too much of you, Bella. It must be difficult to get everything done and still have to sit here and dine with us each night, humm?” Signora Matringa traced her finger along the rim of her crystal wine glass, the small smile on her face widening fractionally. “Why don't you eat dinner as soon as it's ready? That way you don't need to sit and wait on us to finish? I'm sure it will be better that way, for you.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Signora,” Bella managed to murmur, staring down at the table…

…to hide the grin on her face.