3. The Valasela Estate

Christie was still shaken by the recent events. The examination had been way more than she expected. Her hands still trembled just thinking about it, even though the carriage ride was as smooth as ever. The written exam had gone well – or so she would like to think – as she had always been immersed in her books, but everything started to go south as the physical exam started.

There were people naturally well-built or inclined to athletics, but Christie wasn't one of those. And even if she wanted to exercise herself – which she didn't – it was completely impossible as her body started to tear apart from the inside if she exercised too much. She could feel the heterogeneous sea of agates bubble up and threaten to release like high tide on a storm upon the shore.

Her body was weak from the start, and the ceaseless agates didn't help at all.

Her efforts during the physical examination had been so pathetic that even a noble boy who looked like he hadn't lifted anything heavier than a feather in his life and was deathly pale and afflicted with vomiting still performed better than her. Christie's body wasn't that of durable agate, but fragile glass.

And even with her untold supremacy of the stone, she didn't know what to think of the Agatecraft part of the exam. The examiners had told her and reassured her that she had a great score, but as she looked at those unsettled eyes – both from the examiners and the other examinees – she felt at a sickly unease.

You are a monster.

Those eyes screamed.

In the solitary confinement of her carriage, Christie weakly embraced her own body. She had never felt lonelier. She had always known that she wasn't like the others, even her father – mighty as he was – could only manage a fistful of agates, not a pool of them. But now that had become even more apparent. She was a freak of nature.

"Ah…" Christie sobbed alone in the carriage. "Why did I have to go to the examination…?" Her voice was even softer and fainter than the low breeze outside that barely managed to push the leaves of the canopies.

The girl in the frilly red dress was well aware that it was a mandatory effort. The statal examination wasn't just a census for the young people and a recruitment effort, but also a way to find those unpolished agates that remained behind amongst the most unfortunate. Christie herself had been witness to that as that patchwork girl had completed most of the tests at greater speeds than most with a single agate.

Oh, what she would give to have single agate!

The world rumbled upon that thought. It wasn't that the carriage had hit a pothole, but that her own body shook. The lack of concentration and stability had unsettled her agates.

Christie embraced herself with even more strength as she swayed her inner sea with the Sleep command. So violent was her inner turmoil that if she didn't literally put all her agates to sleep, they would slip out of her body like a bathtub with a crack.

Pain, constant pain. And those unsettled gazes only made her more aware of that.

"We are here, Miss!" The coachman announced as soon as the carriage stopped.

The girl panicked for a short moment, stopped embracing herself, corrected her posture, and fixed the parts of her dress that had been displaced from her antics. Fortunately, she was able to complete all those tasks before the coachman opened the door for her.

"Thank you, Adrien," Christie said with a composure worthy of her class as she took the old man's hand.

"A non-issue, miss," he gave her a toothy smile. "I will carry your luggage to the mansion. Though I would recommend that you give old François a visit before doing so. He's been feeling down as of late."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Of course!" He had her at 'François'.

Christie grabbed her dress by the upper part of the skirt and tiptoed on the cobblestones of the mansion's driveway to the front of the carriage.

"How are you doing, François?" The redhead girl beamed her enthusiasm, her jitters completely forgotten.

"Hah~" The stoneshell that had brought them home responded.

"François!" Christie raised her voice and crossed her arms. "What have we said about doing those mocking moans?"

"Ah," said the mock turtle.

The girl pouted at the oversized stone reptile but quickly gave in as François peered at her with eyes as dark as the sun. "I do not understand you in the slightest, old boy." She lurched forward and patted his coarse head.

The old stoneshell pushed his neck forward and pressed his head against the girl's palm.

"You really like me, huh?" Christie giggled with a hand covering her mouth in modesty.

"Hoh," François affirmed.

"Why is that? I am not the one who takes care of you. Is it because you feel the stones within me? Some kind of lithic kinship?"

The stoneshell failed to answer, simply enjoying himself on the caresses from the young girl. Stoneshells were inactive by nature – even if they never tired – but François was always open to some cuddling. When she was younger, Christie would spend a lot of time riding his neck or even sleeping atop his hard carapace. Alas, she had grown – unfortunately – too old to do those things now. Especially the neck thing. Not that she was heavy! Just… too big to ride the old reptile's neck.

"Ah, I would like to spend more time with you, François, but I need to greet my dearest father of my arrival. So… maybe later?"

"Ah," he mocked her in protest.

"Oh!" She was taken aback by his harsh words and covered her mouth in surprise as it was left agape. "You cannot say those words to a lady, François!"

"Ah," reiterated the mock turtle.

"That's it! No cuddles for you today!" Christie crossed her arms and avoided his gaze.

"Ohh…" François grunted pathetically as his head hung down.

"Okay, okay!" The girl shook her hands in a panic before the stoneshell. "Maybe one!"

"Oh!" Upon hearing the vitality in the stoneshell's grunt, Christie couldn't help herself but embrace the old François from the neck and pet him. Even as she supported her weight on his neck, the stoneshell took it head-on. After all, his neck and head alone were as big as herself, and far more massive.

"How can you be so cute, you old, mocking shell?" She rubbed her cheeks against the stoneshell's head.

"Miss Christina!" A voice shouted from behind.

"Ah!" The girl yelped and jumped away from François, much to the stoneshell's displeasure. "Uhm…" Christie slowly turned around, "… Hello, Miss Diorite?"

"One day away and you have already lost your manners?" The head maid protested with her arms crossed.

"Uh…" The red-haired girl panicked for a moment as she recalled the exchange trying to find out what she had done wrong. "Oh. Uhm…" She bowed down and slightly lifted her skirt. "Salutations, Miss Diorite?"

"That is better," the mature woman snorted.

Miss Diorite was a massive and intimidating woman, as her name indicated. Strong as stone and massive as a slab of it. She was also an auburn woman, not just hair, but also eyes, and with a tinge of brown on her skin, a fact that always prompted more than one jest of why she wasn't instead called Granite. Miss Diorite was the head of the maids of the Valasela House, though that was because she was the only one. As big as her family's mansion was, Miss Diorite was capable of handling it all by herself. How a woman of such advanced age could do so many tasks and still move around with an energetic stride was beyond Christie.

"But having said so," Miss Diorite took a step toward the girl. "You have now covered yourself in dust with all that rubbing, Miss Christina. That is indecorous for a lady."

Christie frowned for a second, questioning herself where that dust the head maid was talking about was, but with a slight inclination of her head, she was able to see how all the fabric and skin that had been in contact with François was now covered with a film of dust.

"You should clean yourself before going to visit your father, Miss Christina." Miss Diorite said with her serene yet stern voice.

"He will not care…" The girl added sheepishly as she toyed with her hands, her visage reddening like her hair.

The head maid sighed and rubbed her temples. "I am quite aware that the master will not care. You could roll on a morass and you would still be his shining gemstone, but that does not excuse any of you."

The young girl pouted as she exchanged gazes with a confused François and an exasperated Miss Diorite. The head maid regained her composure before speaking again.

"There will be pudding at today's supper to celebrate your survival of the statal examination," the mature woman added softly.

That was enough for Christie as her splotched eyes of red and green lit up, and she rushed for the mansion. "I cannot wait for supper!" She shouted as she disappeared into the building.

"That girl goes from coy to joyful with the cadence of a metronome," Miss Diorite said aloud as the coachman Adrien carried the young lady's light luggage back into the mansion. "Do you not think so, François?"

"Hah~" moaned the mock turtle.