5. Dearest Father

Christie had been played, and she didn't notice it until it was too late. Regardless of her wishes, Miss Diorite had already prepared a bath for her, so having played with François did not affect the outcome. It wasn't that she wasn't against bathing, but right now she just wanted to disconnect from existence. Some people would have seen a warm bath as the best way to do so, but Christie was more than satisfied with sitting in a rocking chair and just watching the sun move before her to make way to the night.

When she was truly calmed, it was when it was easier to send her sea of agates to sleep, after all.

With some difficulties, Christie shed her frilly dress away. As gorgeous and comfortable as it was, she couldn't deny that it took far too long to slip in and out of it. And it was rather heavy on the spectrum of dress weights.

The floor of the lavatory of the Valasela Estate thrummed with warmth, and the redhead girl calmly walked across the marble tiles even though she was completely naked. She still preferred to walk over the veins of agate for that extra warmth, though. Before making her way to the tub, Christie sat in front of the mirror and did her hair. She certainly didn't want to get it wet as she washed.

The warm water did wonders for her fatigue; she had completely underestimated the exhaustion her body had built up from the physical examination and the carriage ride, but it still took her constant concentration to keep the Sleep command up with the writhing mass of agates. The drowsier she was, the more asleep her agates would be, and she was unfortunately the type of person who was unable to fall asleep in a bathtub.

After a quick yet relaxing soaking in perfumed water and oils, Christie emerged from the bathtub. When she made her way out of the lavatory, Miss Diorite was already waiting for her. The head maid dried the young girl's body, but as she brought a change of clothes and made the gesture to dress Christie herself, the girl protested.

"I am not a child any longer, Miss Diorite," she said with a polite tone, nonetheless.

"I am quite aware of that, Miss Christina. You are close to flourishing, but regardless of your will, it is my job to clothe you."

"I do not agree with that," Christie crossed her arms and covered her chest.

"Present your protests to the patriarch then."

"You know dearest father will not hear me," the girl pouted.

"Oh, your dearest father will hear you. But you are still his dearest daughter, so he will deny your petition."

"That makes no sense."

"You are too young to understand," the mature woman smiled. "Now, stop fuming and let me dress you. I am getting ill myself from seeing you bare. A lady should be covered and cradled, lest an ailment afflicts her."

Christie had the feeling that when Miss Diorite said 'ailment', she wasn't only speaking about maladies. The redhead finally gave in and sighed as she dropped her arms down.

"Let us get done with this," Christie added with a tired tone. Whilst any type of education and interaction intimidated her, if that meant being free from such demeaning exchanges, she would gladly accept having to interact with people of her age.

Miss Diorite worked swiftly as ever, which was paradoxical as she was built like a stoneshell. She did nothing small, whether it was herself or her work. Everything on the estate – not just the mansion – had to work perfectly, and if it didn't, she managed to do it herself. And as for the woman, she was colossal. Her arms were nearly as wide as Christie's torso – and laden in muscle, at that – and she was taller than any man in the estate, Christie's dearest father included. But most egregious of all were those bosoms as boulders. If no one looked at Miss Diorite's grandmotherly visage, they would never be close to guessing her age out of her silhouette alone.

Instead of wearing such a heavy dress like before, which had been a problem during the physical test – even if her results were bound to be horrific anyhow – Miss Diorite dressed the girl in a thin, in-home, white, one-piece dress. More epithets could be used to describe the attire, if one were poor. These types of clothing were commonplace for girls of her class, so Christie didn't give it much thought, regardless of how overdecorated and how high-quality it might be.

"Supper will be served at seven," the head maid announced after she had finished fixing the girl's hair. "Do not dally much."

"I would never," Christie responded with faux indignation as she covered her mouth.

As Miss Diorite left the room, Christie calmly walked to her room. The mansion was too big for five inhabitants – François was included on that count, of course – so it was actually quite the stroll as the girl just leisurely moved forward, her eyes lingering on the many decorations of the mansion: its wallpapers, its miscellaneous paraphernalia in the corridors like vases and whatnot, the chandeliers, and most beautiful, the veins of agate that were the blood vessels of the house.

Since she was little, Christie had always found herself caressing those outcrops of stone that merged so seamlessly with the walls and floor. The veins brought her ease. She didn't know why, mayhap because the color of the agate reminded her of her own inner sea, but she couldn't be sure.

One of the many decorations of the Valasela Estate – one grandfather clock – told her that it was six-thirty already, so to not dally around too much, Christie made her way inside her room. A bastion of her own, a palace of decadence and fluffiness with its many pillows and stuffed animals.

She even had one miniature François!

That one her dearest father had gifted it to her on her fifth birthday as he had to go on a long business trip and had to take François with him, so as not to leave her alone, he brought a seamstress to make a recreation for her. Christie remembered how furious her father was when he came back and saw the finished product – as he had to leave before it was over – as instead of a perfect replica, it was an artistic interpretation made from felt. He quickly calmed down, however, once he saw how rejoiced her daughter was with the stuffed recreation.

"How are you doing, mock turtle?" Christie booped the stuffed François on the nose once she had stretched out on the bed.

Christie had originally used the term of mock turtle for the felt François, but one day when she was young, she had blurted that out to the real one, and now she used that moniker to identify both of them.

He was a very mocking turtle, after all.

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The redhead lay on her stomach and relaxedly kicked the air. "I had a very difficult exam myself, you know? Oh, how tiring it was! But above all else, it made me very, very anxious. Too many gazes. I do not deal well with those, oh veins, I do not."

Her ranting session continued for a while, and yet, it was cut short by the sound of clocks tolling their hourly bells.

"Seven already?" Lazily, Christie jumped out of bed and donned some comfortable footwear.

She wasn't too worried about being late for supper as Miss Diorite wasn't that strict with timing, and her dearest father was always late, so Christie would end up being on time without trying. As always, the mansion felt empty as she directed to the ground floor. The dimming natural light didn't help with that oppressive feeling of solitude. Christie constantly inquired why her dearest father wouldn't hire more people if just to make the estate feel more alive.

When Christie made it to the dining room, the table was already set up and all the lights were on, but there was no trace of other people or the food. It still took a couple of minutes for her dearest father and the head maid to come through the door.

Hasel Valasela was a lithe and tall man built like a pole. As the patriarch of the Valasela House, he already had quite an aura, and yet, that still was underplaying his abilities as his eyes boasted a keenness unlike any other. His eyes were light green like a portion of Christie's, and his short hair and beard were jet black. Whilst his attire was an expensive suit, he would have looked far more unkempt without it as his beard left a lot to be desired.

The patriarch's eyes were cold as stone as he entered the room, yet the moment those twin agates landed on Christie, they lit up like a potent blaze.

"Ah, my dearest daughter!" Hasel extended open his arms as he walked toward her daughter.

Christie stood up from her seat and performed a cordial bow as she raised the skirt of her indoor dress.

"Dearest father," the girl welcomed him politely.

"How cute you are, my Christina!" Of course, her dearest father cared not for courtesy and etiquette, so he trapped her in a bear hug.

Even though the man's arms were as thin as Christie's, their strength was unparalleled. He raised her from the ground with ease and spun her around.

"It has been hard without you!" He announced happily.

"F-Father!" Christie blushed both from the embarrassing words and the lethal hug. "I have been out only a day!"

"Too long, too long, my dearest daughter!" Hasel spun her around one more time with a smile plastered on his face before letting her go. "Now, now. As much as I would love to cuddle you for the rest of the evening, we should let Miss Diorite bring us the supper."

With those words, the two members of the Valasela family sat at the table. The piece of furniture was far too big and clearly not meant for only two people – which contributed even more to that feeling of loneliness – but father and daughter sat without paying attention to that.

As soon as they sat, Miss Diorite was already bringing the first course. It wasn't until they started with their vegetable soup that conversation was reestablished.

"So," her dearest father started, "how has the statal examination gone?"

"W-well. It has gone well," Christie responded, not with the nervousness of someone who had done poorly on an exam, but a child who had to talk about an exam to their parents regardless of the score.

"I am glad to hear that," the patriarch smiled with his eyes closed. "It can get quite difficult, but for someone as studious as you, the written part must have been a breeze."

"T-that… was a given," the redhead girl answered with a slight stutter. Out of nowhere, the anxiety of the examination came flooding back to her. An insurmountable irritation drowned her as she was unable to know the result of her tests and wouldn't be able to do so for many days.

"So I must ask about the other two. How about the physical exam?" Hasel's roguish smile intensified. His closed eyes and sharp chin made him look like a fox.

"Dearest f-father…" Christie mused weakly.

"What, dearest daughter?" The man's smile kept growing.

"Do not tease me like that," her voice was but a soft whisper. "Y-you know I did poorly."

"Of course," he acknowledged as a matter of fact. "But I do not get many chances to tease you, so I must exploit them when I can."

"Father!" Christie exploded in indignation, her visage red as her hair.

"Sorry, sorry," her dearest father chuckled and left the spoon on the table as he finished eating. "You are far too cute, my dearest daughter. I simply cannot resist. I will let you have a breather now."

True to his word, he let the girl finish her meal. Though she only ate between pouts and sulks. When she was done, Miss Diorite was swift in removing the plates and changing them for the second course: foie gras.

"Anyhow, the test I am most interested in is the Agatecraft one," Hasel put his elbows on the table – which earned a scowl from Miss Diorite – and intertwined his hands together. "How has it gone, Christina?"

"I…" The daughter stopped moving her hands and dropped the utensils. The silver clattered against the porcelain. "I am so different, dearest father…" she added softly, pathetically.

"Oh, my dearest daughter…" The moment the patriarch threatened to move, the head maid gave him such a stare that he sat right back on his seat. "Ehem," he cleared his throat. "You are different, yes, but that is what makes you beautiful, my Christina. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. And above all else, do not let yourself believe that."

"But, but…" She remembered that examination, the gazes of both the examinees and examiners upon her. They weren't looking at a human.

"No buts!" He clinked his glass with his knife. "You are a sea when others barely manage a splash. Do not let that affect you. I already told you; that is what makes you beautiful."

"I…" she wanted to protest, she wanted to scream, "yes, dearest father." Yet no words of defiance left her mouth.

Her father didn't intimidate her. He truly loved her, but that love was oppressive on its own. No matter what she said, she wouldn't be heard. And… she didn't want to betray that love.

"Having said so," the patriarch continued, "how has the examination gone then?"

"I… broke a statal record."

"Really?" Hasel's eyes shot wide open. "Which one? Is it destruction?"

"Ehm… no. Speed."

"Speed? Huh, how queer," he chuckled. "How did you manage to do so?"

"Well, I just awoke my agates and… they kind of filled the entire arena… before the examiners could start the timer…" Christie said with a modicum of embarrassment.

"Marvelous! Simply marvelous!" The patriarch chuckled heartily and clapped. "I knew you had it in you! You have been so meek these last days, but look at you, dearest daughter, a statal record!"

"Yes…" she responded with the same meekness he was talking about.

"Miss Diorite, bring the pudding to celebrate!"

Even though they weren't done with the foie gras, the head maid removed the plates anyway. Considering she didn't have much appetite, Christie actually appreciated the gesture. François would certainly enjoy the meal more than her. The mock turtle ate anything the world threw at him, her dearest father loved to jest about it.

What Miss Diorite brought for them was a feast of sugar and gold, a whole tray of pudding for each of them.

"Eat at your heart's content, my dearest daughter! Today we celebrate!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Like any good-standing lady, Christie had two separate stomachs just dedicated to sweets. One wasn't enough, after all.

It took her nearly a quarter of an hour to finish the tray, but she didn't leave a single speck of pudding on it. Whilst her stomachs were protesting, she couldn't help but continuously smile. Pudding was just happiness physicalized, just like agates were power physicalized.

"So," her dearest father's roguish voice cut through the happiness. "Have you decided which academy you want to go to?"

She hadn't expected that question.

"S-should that decision not wait until we get the scores of the examination?" Christie added weakly.

"My Christina, you and I know that is only a façade. If you want to get to any academy, dearest father can get you inside." Few were the moments that her father spoke with such gravitas. His voice was so imposing that he always seemed a different person when he did speak like that.

"I…" Her hand trembled for a moment, but she recovered her composure, placed the spoon on the table, and lithified her heart.

Her dearest father had told the truth. Regardless of the examination's results, he could get her into any academy. From the beginning, it had been a test of her resolve, not her capabilities. Christie rolled her hand into a fist and meditated. It is not just the loneliness of this mansion that I want to get rid of, but also… also my weakness. I cannot settle for mediocrity. I need to control my agates, and for that…

"I want to go to the Skyscraper Academy!" Her agate eyes shone with resolve.

I need to become a lithorist!