{sleep}

{sleep}

{sleep}

{awake}

{tight}

{poke}

{kick}

{push}

{tight}

{poke}

{push}

{tight}

{tight}

{tight}

{out}

{out}

{out}

{out}

{out}

{OUT}

{OUT}

{OUT}

{OUT}{OUT}{OUT}

{?!}

{BREATHE}{PAIN}{LIGHT}{AIR}{BRIGHT}{SOUND}{EMPTY}{COLD}{PAIN}{BREATHE}{DRY}{LIGHT}{LOUD}{PAIN}{AIR}{COLD}{BRIGHT}{EMPTY}{PAIN}{SOUND}{COLD}{BREATHE}{LOUD}{PAIN}{UNHAPPY}

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

{loud}{unhappy}

{loud}{unhappy}

{quiet}

{quiet}{happy}

{?}

{food?}

{get}

{food?}{hand}

{food?}{mouth}

{SUGAR}

{FOOD}{GET}{HAND}{MOUTH}{SUGAR}{HAPPY}{FOOD}{GET}{HAND}{MOUTH}{SUGAR}{HAPPY}{FOOD}{GET}{HAND}{MOUTH}{SUGAR}{HAPPY}{FOOD}{GET}{HAND}{MOUTH}{SUGAR}{HAPPY}{FOOD}{GET}{HAND}{MOUTH}{SUGAR}{HAPPY}

{loud}{unhappy}

{loud}{unhappy}

{quiet}

{quiet}{happy}

{food!}{sugar!}

{get}{eat}{happy}{get}{eat}{happy}{get}{eat}{happy}{get}{eat}{happy}{get}{eat}{happy}

{more?}{more?}{more?}

{MORE?}{MORE?}{MORE?}

{mother}{touch}{happy}

{sick}{unhappy}

{sick}{unhappy}

{sick}{unhappy}

{mother}{food}

{eat}{sugar}{happy?}

{sick}{unhappy}

{tired}

{sleep}

{mother}{cake}{happy}

{?!}

{fire?}

{cake}{fire?}

{mother}{breathe}{big}

{mother}{point}{cake}{fire}

{mother}{breathe}{big}{point}{fire}

{...}

{breathe}{big}{fire}

{mother}{happy}

{breathe}{big}{fire}

{breathe}{big}{fire}

{!}

{not}{fire}

{breathe}{not?}{fire}

{...}

{cake}

{?}

{big}{round}{bright}

{poke}

{float?}{bounce?}

{follow}

{poke}

{float}{bounce}

{fun}{play}

{follow}{poke}{bounce}{follow}{poke}{bounce}{follow}{poke}{bounce}{follow}

{grab}

{feel}{new}{strange}

{good?}{bad?}

{neither}

{not}{grab}

{poke}{fun}

{father}{gift}

{toy!}{toy!}{toy!}

{play}{fun}{happy}

{true mother}{gift}

{toy!}{toy!}{toy!}

{play}{fun}{happy}

{other mother}{gift}

{cup}

{cup}

{cup}

{not}{toy}

{push}

{LOUD}{UNHAPPY}

{aunt}{gift}

{comb?}

{comb}

{...}

{not}{good}

{not}{bad}

{neither}

{okay}

{grab}{comb}

{comb}{self}{hair}

{drop}

{grab}{comb}

{comb}{self}{hair}

{drop}

{grab!}{comb!}

{comb!}{self!}{hair!}

{DROP?!}

{UNHAPPY}

{true mother "ｍａ－ｄｉ－ｒａ"}{cut "ｃｕｔ"}{cake "ｃａ－ｋｅ"}

{true mother "ｍａ－ｄｉ－ｒａ"}{give "ｇｉｖｅ"}{cake "ｃａ－ｋｅ"}{self "ｍｅ－ｌｉ－ａ"}

{self "ｍｅ－ｌｉ－ａ"}{happy "ｈａｐ－ｐｙ"}{cake "ｃａ－ｋｅ"}{taste "ｔａｓ－ｔｅ"}

{other mother "ｍｏｔｈ－ｅｒ"}{unhappy "ｎｏｔ・ｈａｐ－ｐｙ"}

{other mother "ｍｏｔｈ－ｅｒ"}{speak "ｓｐｅａｋ"}{self "ｍｅ－ｌｉ－ａ"}{fork "ｆｏｒｋ"}

{self "ｍｅ－ｌｉ－ａ"}{not "ｎｏｔ"}{like "ｌｉｋｅ"}{fork "ｆｏｒｋ"}

{true mother "ｍａ－ｄｉ－ｒａ"}{other mother "ｍｏｔｈ－ｅｒ"}{speak "ｓｐｅａｋ"}{angry "ａｎ－ｇｒｙ"}

{self "ｍｅ－ｌｉ－ａ"}{unhappy "ｎｏｔ・ｈａｐ－ｐｙ"}

ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ

ｍｅｌｉａ ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ・ ｍｅｌｉａ ｈａｐｐｙ

ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ｃａｋｅ ・ ｍｅｌｉａ ｌｉｋｅ ｃａｋｅ ・ ｈａｐｐｙ ｔａｓｔｅ

ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ｇｉｆｔ ・ ｍｅｌｉａ ｌｉｋｅ ｇｉｆｔ ・ ｔｏｙ ・ ｆｕｎ

ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ｎｉｎｅ ・ ｎｕｍｂｅｒ ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ・ ｎｉｎｅ ｆｉｎｇｅｒ ・ ｎｅｘｔ ｔｅｎ ・ ｔｅｎ ｂｉｇ ｎｉｎｅ ・ ｔｅｎ ｆｉｎｇｅｒ ・ ｎｅｘｔ ｂｉｇ ｂｉｇ ・ ｍｏｒｅ ｆｉｎｇｅｒ

ｍａｄｉｒａ ｈａｐｐｙ ・ ｍａｄｉｒａ ｌｉｋｅ ｍｅｌｉａ ・ ｍａｄｉｒａ ｌｉｋｅ ｃａｋｅ ・ ｍａｄｉｒａ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ ｌｉｋｅ ｇｉｆｔ

ｆａｔｈｅｒ ｈａｐｐｙ ・ ｇｕｅｓｓ ・ ｆａｔｈｅｒ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ ｃａｋｅ ・ ｆａｔｈｅｒ ｌｉｋｅ ｇｉｆｔ

ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｎｏｔ ｈａｐｐｙ ・ ａｌｗａｙｓ ・ ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｎｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｃａｋｅ ・ ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｎｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｇｉｆｔ ・ ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｎｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｍｅｌｉａ ・ ｍｏｔｈｅｒ ｌｉｋｅ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ

ａｕｎｔ ｈａｐｐｙ ・ ｇｕｅｓｓ ・ ａｕｎｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｃａｋｅ ・ ａｕｎｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｇｉｆｔ

ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ ・ ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｓｐｅａｋ ｎｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｃａｋｅ ・ ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｓｐｅａｋ ｎｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｇｉｆｔ ・ ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｓｐｅａｋ ｎｏｔ ｌｉｋｅ ｍｅｌｉａ ・ ｍｅｌｉａ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｓｐｅａｋ ｔｒｕｔｈ

ｍｅｌｉａ ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ ・ ｍｅｌｉａ ｈａｐｐｙ

ｔｅｎ ｂｉｒｔｈｄａｙ

ｍａｄｉｒａ ｈａｐｐｙ ・ ｔｅｎ ｂｉｇ ｎｉｎｅ ・ ｔｅｎ ｍｏｒｅ ｈａｐｐｙ ｎｉｎｅ

ｔｅｎ ａｌｌ ｆｉｎｇｅｒ ・ ｎｅｘｔ ｅｌｅｖｅｎ ・ ｔｏｏ ｍａｎｙ ｆｉｎｇｅｒ ・ ｈｏｗ

ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｇｉｆｔ

ｔｈｉｎｇ

ｔｈｉｎｇ？

ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ

＂ｍｅｌｉａ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ＂

ｂｒｏｔｈｅｒ ｄｏｎｔ ｋｎｏｗ ｆａｃｅ

"It's a hat."

ｈａｔ！ ｈａｔ！ ｈａｔ！

＂ｈａｔ！＂

ｍｅｌｉａ ｗｅａｒ ｈａｔ！

ｍｅｌｉａ ｌｉｋｅ ｈａｔ！

ｍｅｌｉａ ｈａｐｐｙ！

eleven birthday. one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven. eleven year. melia age eleven. melia eleven year old. eleven. fun word.

gift now. mother gift.

spoon. purple? purple spoon. strange spoon colour. purple good colour. good spoon. melia like purple spoon.

mother expect.

"melia like purple spoon."

mother strange face. good? bad? dont know.

madira strange face. good? good. little happy. madira like mother purple spoon gift.

father empty face. aunt little happy face. brother look away. melia not see brother face. brother rude.

"brother! spoon!"

brother not move. uhoh.

father words punish brother. hehehe funny happy laugh. brother fool.

today twelve birthday. twelve. okay word.

melia awake early. excited. melia sit at ether pad. melia wait for madira.

melia cant ether pad. melia try. melia think hard hard hard. not work. no move. madira always do for melia. melia alone. melia stuck.

melia try again.

melia sit on pad. try. think. think. think. want go! want use! want ether pad! want leave room! want!

melia can feel ether. ether not know. ether not full. ether not ready.

melia push! push ether! help ether!

can feel wind ether. green taste. air smell. breath colour. spin like laugh. move like free.

some dark? yes. also dark ether. gravity taste. eyes closed smell. shadow colour. bend like soup. flow like forget.

push! use! move! go! through! out! leave!

{surprise}

{FEAR}{UNFAMILIAR}{SURROUNDED}

{familiar}

{confusion}

{realisation}

MELIA DID IT! MELIA LEAVE ROOM! MELIA USE ETHER PAD!

melia do it again! melia repeat! melia learn!

melia self twelve birthday gift!

today is birthday number thirteen. melia is "teen-ager".

madira say this is funny. "teen-ager" homs also mean thirteen. but homs grow fast. so thirteen homs same as...very big number. very bigger than thirteen. less than hundred. melia don't know how big hundred is. melia can count to nineteen.

homs grow fast. melia is thirteen. but homs same age is only almost three. when melia was three, homs same age is not even one. strange.

homs are strange overall. strange hair colours. strange names. strange buildings. strange customs.

madira say that homs gift custom is different. homs gift covered on all sides with paper. birthday person rip paper off. create big mess on purpose. strange. melia like high entia custom better. gift covered by one cloth. cloth removed by giver. no mess. better.

homs cake custom is same. good. homs not miss cake. cake is important and tasty. melia like most cake. dont know best cake. hard decision.

madira know much about homs. makes sense. madira is homs. but no other homs here. madira is lonely.

Madira...

No. "Mother". Madira wants to be called "mother" as well. Because "madira" is the other language.

I is sad. "Madira" is a better word than "mother". That is why I calls her "madira". Because she is the better mother.

I doesn't like this. Using "mother" and "mother" is confusing. But she asked. So I has to do it.

I will use "Mother" and "mother". Tone of voice is important. Both Mother and mother say this. So it will work.

Where was I?

Yes.

Madi-... Mother wants to know what birthday cake I wants. But how does I know? I is always given cake. I doesn't know what cake to choose. Select? Choose? Select. I doesn't know what cake to select. I is not hungry.

Cinnamon.

Cinnamon is first cake that I thinks of. I selects cinnamon.

That sounds okay.

No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly.

"How are you doing, sister?"

No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fly. No more fl-oof

"Don't poke me!"

"I barely touched you. Besides, I asked a reasonable question, and I would much appreciate hearing its answer."

"Why are you sat next to me? It's Mother's seat!"

"I requested it. So I could ask you this question."

"No you don't."

"Pardon?"

"You don't ap-pre-ci-ate answer. Father does. Father told you to ask."

"Father is sitting just beside you, on your other side. If he wished to know, he would ask himself."

"I don't believe you."

Brother is turning away and doing the deep breath. The "sigh". Good. He can stop. No more fly.

"If I did not care for you, or to the answer to my question, why would I have saved you when you fell from the Sky Terrace today?"

No! A hard question. Brother is annoying.

Think. Think. Think. No more fly. Think.

"You have no retort, I see. It so follows that...well, I suppose I do care for you, in some way. Enough to save your life at some nonzero risk to my own. So, with that in mind, I ask again: How are you doing? Are you still scared about what happened? Do you feel worried about it happening again? Would you like to trade some of your asparagus for some of my apples?"

"Yes, please."

Brother has a use. I hate asparagus. No more fly.

"Then I will accept all of your asparagus immediately. In return, I will give you one slice of apple for each question of mine you answer."

"Not fair! Not equal! Food for food is equal!"

"Hmm. You're more observant than I realised. Very well. I will perform no transaction to begin with. Then, for each question you answer, I will trade one apple slice for an equal amount of asparagus."

HATE. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE. BROTHER IS MEAN.

"No, thank you."

"Really, now? Well, I suppose that answers the question in and of itself. You are feeling sufficiently upset that you are desperate to not talk about it. For that, I shall make one exchange."

...

I don't understand.

I don't understand, but Brother took asparagus and gave fruit. This is good.

I'm worried.

Mother has brought me to a go-kart track. So I can race around in a small vehicle. This is her gift this year. She says Homs can drive at age sixteen. She is trying to be funny about it. It is a little funny.

But it's empty. The only other people are guards. Who do I race against? Something is wrong. I will ask.

Oh. Mother says she wasn't allowed to have people here. She had to ask the owner to close the track so I could play. Why?

Oh. I can't play with other kids because I'm a princess. I would have to wear a mask. But I'm too young to wear the mask. What is the point then?

Mother tried. But I don't think I like this gift.

I will still try.

I'm in the kart. It's too big for me. Someone put things on the pedals so I can reach them. Which one is the forward pedal?

Oh. I'm moving now. Heeheehee. I can't run this fast. This is fun. The wheel is big, but I can spin it. It makes me turn. It blocks my view but I can still see enough. I don't collide with the walls. I'm driving!

Mother is beside me. She is in a bigger kart. I push harder but can't go faster. The karts are not very fast.

I've noticed the ether in the kart. It goes around and around the engine. It wants to go faster. It can go faster. But the pedal is not pushed enough. Maybe my legs are too short. Or maybe someone put a block under the pedal. I can't see it.

Oops. I bumped into Mother. My kart got knocked into the wall. It's okay, nothing was hurt. I go forwards again.

Oh! Something must have been knocked loose. I can push the pedal much further now. The kart is very fast now! Wheeeeeeee!

Mother yelled something. I left her behind. She's speeding up a lot now. But she can't catch me! I'm too fast! Hahahah!

I'm not thinking. I'm just driving. I refuse to collide with anything else. It's...instinct? Yes that's the word. Instinct. I'm good at this without practice. The ether helps.

Brother is here now. He wasn't here before. Maybe he wants to race too.

His loss.

Auntie Enti gave me an ether gem!

I like holding ether gems. I don't know how to make them do anything. I like to hold them anyway. They feel nice. But I don't get to have any. Mother owns them. Sometimes she lets me play with them. I'm very good at telling what rank they are.

But this! This is my own ether gem! It's mine! Mine!

It's earth-coloured. It's rank one. It's...Auntie Enti said Bleed Defence. I hate bleeding. I hate getting hurt. I hope I can make it work. Then I won't bleed as much. But just having it is okay.

I think Auntie Enti is surprised I like it so much. But happy-surprised. Not angry-surprised. Father and mother and Brother also look surprised. Mother is not surprised. She knows I like ether gems.

What will I do with it? I will hold it all the time. Maybe I will learn how to make it work. It makes me feel happy.

Mother is silly.

Homs are adults when they are eighteen. I'm now eighteen. So Mother spent the first half of the day treating me like an adult.

It was actually kind of fun. We sat in the sitting room. Mother made us tea. I'm not supposed to have tea yet. I liked it. I was very careful with the teacup. I only spilled a bit when it was full.

Mother talked about sports and politics and gossip. I understood some of it. I think I understood more than Mother expected. She was surprised at some things I said. I wish Brother was there. He makes funny faces when I say things sometimes.

It went back to normal at lunch. Because it's now nap time. But it was fun.

It's dark outside. Mother is still asleep. But I'm already awake. And I'm too excited to sleep again.

Is it my birthday already? I don't know. I see the clock but don't understand it. It's not pointing to the moon picture. It's not pointing to the sun picture. It's somewhere in between. But I don't know what that means. When does twenty-first become twenty-second?

I get more gifts today. Or is it tomorrow? It's one of those. And cake. And people will be happy for me. Or pretend to be happy for me. That's good enough sometimes.

I want to sleep but I'm too excited. How do I stop?

Father approaches with his gift. The most exciting gift so far. It dangles from his hand. The cloth still covers it. I can't wait for the reveal.

I already know what it is. I don't think anyone else knows. I don't think Father knows I know. He knows I am good at feeling ether. I don't think he knows how much.

I know he is holding a lot of ether gems. I don't need to see them. Every colour is there. A lot of them are weak. But one of them is very strong. I don't know if I've ever touched one that strong. It's earth-coloured.

I think Father has noticed something. Maybe he knows I'm excited.

Here it comes.

It's...art? It's a metal ring. The gems are tied on strings. The strings fill the ring and hang from the ring. The strong gem floats in the middle of the ring strings. I was right and wrong. I knew it was ether gems. But it is more than just ether gems.

Father says it's a "dreamcatcher". It hangs above my bed and traps bad dreams. The gems match the letters in my name and his name. The middle gem is strong so it can fight the bad dreams. Its rank is three. I've only touched a two. I want to take it out and hold it. I think that would be rude.

I'm holding the dreamcatcher now. It's more heavy than it looks. It...feels good to look at. It feels...safe? Why does it feel safe? How can a thing feel safe? I will ask.

Father says it feels safe because safe is part of earth. It also feels safe because the dreamcatcher creates safety. Safety against the bad dreams. That makes sense.

I don't like bad dreams. I hope this helps.

This is unfair! It's mean! It's cruel! It's...it's...it's lame!

Why is it suddenly not okay to celebrate my birthday every year? Mother still does, and she's forty-nine! I'm part Homs too! Part...h..half? Two same size parts? Half? That sounds right. Half. Same size Homs and High Entia. Both at the same time. So I should be allowed to be like both!

The next one is in five years?! Five years is a lot! One year is a lot! I can't even remember five years! That means...I already forgot all my birthdays! Okay, not all. But still too many!

One day, I will know maths. I will count how many birthdays Mother has. I will count how many birthdays I should have. I will draw a fancy picture to compare the numbers. When Brother is emperor, I will tell him to fix this. I will make him fix this. I will not ever make him fix anything else. This should make him feel guilty enough to do it.

This is unfair to all the people that are both Homs and High Entia.

Garan and Damil have been very annoying today. I think they want me to forget it's my birthday. They don't want me to complain about not celebrating it.

I'm not stupid. I won't complain to them. They're just guards. They can't change anything. They just listen and nod.

I will complain to Mother. She's in the palace right now. I can...see? feel? sense? I don't know the right word. No one else uses the word for it. I think maybe no one else can even do it. Whatever the word, I know exactly where Mother is. That's her ether other there. She's with Father. They're probably discussing something. It's probably about me. Rude. I should be there.

I will wait for Mother to return. Then I will complain. Did I also complain last year? I don't remember. I hope I did. If I complain enough, maybe something will change. That's how people work. Father said so. So it has to work for me too.

Mother told me something today. She said that I was supposed to have my ears pierced. But it was to happen when I was ten. She thought I was too young for it. She wanted it to be my choice. I was too young to understand then. So she argued until they let it go.

I'm very...grateful? Yes that's the word, grateful. Grateful that Mother loves me so much. Father and mother would certainly have it done without asking. Auntie Enti would probably have it done without asking. Brother...I'm not sure. But Mother wanted to ask. So she waited until she could ask. And she got angry when they tried to stop her. So I'm grateful.

Then she asked. Do I want my ears pierced? Of course I said no. I don't like pain. I don't like doctors. And I don't like the idea of ears with holes. Mother said this means I can't wear normal earrings. Only earrings light enough for ether to stick them. Of course I said this is fine. Why would I want earrings? What are they good for? I pull my ears and it hurts. Earrings would pull my ears all the time. And I'm good with ether. Even heavy earrings might stick.

Mother seemed happy. She said she doesn't agree with me. But she'll listen to my answer anyway. That's nice. Mother is a good parent.

I think I'm different.

I'm already different because I'm a princess. But I think this is something else. Something more different. I think I'm different from other princesses. I don't know if it's a good different.

Mother showed me a film today. Father was also there. I think they wanted me to be happy for the princess in the film. They seemed confused that I said it was a sad ending. But the...the word-scientist. The...what word did it use...the linguist. The linguist chose to stay behind with the princess. He didn't want to go home with his friends. He didn't want to keep doing science. And the king is still dead. How is that not a sad ending?

Now I'm sad. The princess could have gone with the linguist instead. She could have gone with the new friends. She could have been free. I know it's not a real story. It was an animated film. But it still makes me sad. She's like me. She'll never be free.

It's...it's over already.

And it wasn't even that fun. Everyone was telling me how to behave all the time. Because I'm now suddenly a "child" and not a "baby". I think they wanted me to be happy about this. How could I be? It's very hard to pay attention to everything they want. From everyone. All the time. All at once.

And I had to go outside and see people. So people could see me for the first time. I thought this might be a fun new thing. But no. I had to wear a mask and headdress because I'm half Homs. I can't see anything with it on. And it's too heavy. And it smells terrible. It was all a waste of time.

I like the gifts though. A keyboard, a small piano for playing music. A calculator, a number machine for doing maths, I don't understand much of it yet but numbers are fun. An empty book, just lines, for practicing writing. An empty book, with no lines, for drawing. A bunch of pens and pencils and crayons, for doing the writing and drawing. And the last one - a chapter book! A longer book with not a lot of pictures! I'll be able to imagine the pictures myself. That's exciting. Maybe I can draw the pictures in the empty book.

They say I start school tomorrow. This might be good. Reading and learning are fun. But it might be bad. Remembering things is hard. And it won't be normal-people school. It'll be royal-person school. Just me and a teacher in a small room. It might be good, because normal children seem annoying. It might be bad, because Mother is not allowed to be there. I don't like not knowing.

I deserve a proper birthday! You're going to force me to be a princess? Then I deserve a proper birthday every year! If I'm special because I'm a princess, I'm special enough to have all my birthdays!

Mother understands. She has all her birthdays. She's not allowed to help me. No one else understands. Or maybe they do understand, but do not care. That would be worse. So that's probably what it is. It's always worse.

I remember being mad about this once before. Maybe more than once, I'm not sure. Clearly nothing changed. So being mad again probably won't help.

So...if being mad does not help, what will help?

...

...I don't know. Being mad is the only idea. And I know it doesn't work.

So what do I do?

I think I'm starting to like always wearing gloves. It makes it harder to bite my nails. That's why Mother and mother made me start. But I like it for other reasons now.

No one tells me to wash my hands constantly anymore. Because the gloves protect them instead. That's very nice. Washing my hands all the time is a waste of time. They still do it, but not as often.

I don't have to touch things that feel strange. The gloves protect from that too. Things like...like the wrong kind of fuzz. Or the wrong kind of rubber. Or the wrong kind of carpet. And so on. No one else seems to hate touching these things. I guess I'm special like that too.

I don't think I'll be asked to paint my nails. Because the gloves hide them. I don't like getting paint on my hands or nails. So the gloves fix that in two ways.

But the best part is that I'm warmer. The gloves keep my hands warm, and my elbows too when they're long gloves. I already have long sleeves but this is even better. I'm never cold but I like being warmer.

Can I get longer socks too? My legs and knees also want to be happy.

Everyone else wants to be a princess. I hear it all the time. "You're lucky to be a princess. Normal kids would do anything to be one."

If that's true, I should be allowed to swap. Ask anyone. If you're telling the truth, they'll agree. They'll be happier here than I am.

And then I can be free. I can go to a proper school. I can have friends. I can go outside without the mask. I can be normal.

Why is this not a fair deal? They must be lying about something.

Maybe no one wants to be a princess. Maybe that's the truth. That would make sense. If I don't like it, why would anyone else? They lie to make me feel better. That would not be a surprise.

But...that means they know there are problems. And they are not fixing them.

They must not care at all.

I have a proper birthday next year. Maybe I should ask for a dictionary as a gift. That way I won't have to read Mother's all the time.

What is the big deal with words marked as "vulgarity"? Words are words. Each word has a precise meaning that other words cannot exactly equal. If they could be equal, we'd only use one of them.

Yet something must be different with these words. There must be some reason every adult in the room overreacts to one being said in my presence. Clearly they don't want me to hear or learn them, as if the overreacting does not draw extra attention to them.

Maybe I should use one to gauge the reaction. Mother will certainly not punish the first one, but Father might, and mother certainly would. Brother has no real authority over me, so his reaction would mean little. Aunt Entirmina...it's too rare to be with her alone, so that would not work. So Mother alone it is.

Mother gave me a dictionary! Just like I asked for! And it's huge! Massive! Ginormous! I didn't think there could be one larger than hers, but here we are. And even better, Brother gave me a...a bilingual thesaurus! It's like a dictionary, but it groups together the words that mean similar things. And it has the words of both languages! Now I can not only learn all these words, but learn how they work together.

The rest of the family seems confused. Befuddled, perplexed, confounded even. It's like they don't know I want to know as many words as possible. They use enough unique and rare words themselves, they should know how this works.

The cake was just as good as usual. Tasty. Scrumptious. Delectable. Luscious. Toothsome. This is fun, knowing all these rare words. I'll never be stumped upon hearing something odd again.

True, I still have to speak "normally". I can't be plopping so many extraneous words as to render myself incomprehensible to the average denizen. But simply having the option to expand the possibilities is good enough. I'm going to have the biggest vocabulary of anyone. That'll make me actually special, instead of just "princess" special. "Pretend" special.

"mmmmrh"

Why does everything the doctors do hurt? They're supposed to be stopping things from hurting! Are th-

"rRRRRRRRRRrrrrrnng"

I avoided screaming at least. But that takes a lot of effort. If-

"rrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnn"

I don't want your admiration or commiseration, Mother, I want you to slap this fool until he does this properly. Then, find the person who most recently refused to fix that accursed third-floor staircase, and wipe his face down each step.

...

Well, at least that one did not hurt, and my leg feels like a leg again. That's one success to three failures. Do better.

Being an archer doesn't look that hard. All one has to do is pull, aim, and release. It's pretty safe, as you get to stand far away from the danger. I'm sure I could learn to aim well if I started now. But I suppose they don't make bows for children, and that's why I'm not allowed to start yet. Disappointing.

Maybe that's what I'll be when I get out of here. When I find someone to switch being a princess with, it'll be with an archer. I'll have to show I'm really good at it. I'm good at ether, so I'll learn all the ether bow arts. Light Arrow is probably the best. It goes straight with no gravity, so it'll be easy to aim. But Bomb Arrow does the most damage. And Ice Arrow freezes the target completely. Hmm. It's not so obvious what the best is anymore.

But we still need to find someone I can switch with. We should have a contest. We can have many people come in and do all the princess things, like behaving at fancy events, being hated by mother, and wearing the mask all the time. Whoever does the best job at everything can be the new princess. Everyone should be happy about this.

I'm going to write this down so I don't forget again.

I've made a terrible mistake.

Father kept saying it's just an unusual surprise that means nothing. But no. I saw his moment of raw fear and worry. I sensed mother's abject horror and disgust. I couldn't ignore Aunt Entirmina's surprise and nervousness. I still get these wrong sometimes, but not this time. There's no mistaking it. If but for a moment, they were all shocked and terrified.

I'm certain I'm not mistaken because of how Mother is acting. She tried to calm me down as if I was panicking, returned me directly to the villa, and has now gone to speak to Father. That's not what would happen if it really was nothing.

I know I'm not supposed to touch the Imperial Staff. It was a moment of weakness. I'm not perfect, everyone knows that. I was angry enough to take action. That itself is noteworthy. But even then, I didn't want to actually take hold of it. I just wanted to show how angry I was by trying. I trusted what I was told, that I could never remove it from its perch. That it would resist any attempt to use it selfishly or for ill. So I grabbed it and pulled.

I don't understand what happened next. It was as if a great force flowed into me and peered into my head. And it seemed...dissatisfied. Disappointed, even. I felt an urge to try harder, to show not just my family but this unknown force. So I did, pulling not only with my arms but my mind. The force then changed to...I don't know how to describe it. I didn't recognise the feeling it was radiating. It was almost like...it was challenging me.

So I did something I didn't know I could do. I pulled with not only my physical form, but all the ether within me.

And there was a great noise, and the staff came free.

I had a hold of the Imperial Staff, and turned towards my family before I realised what had happened.

Anyone who tells me they were not scared is a liar. I had removed the unremovable and brandished a weapon at the royal family. If I were a commoner I'd probably have been killed on the spot.

It is lucky that sense came to me and I dropped the staff in shock. And perhaps exhaustion, it was actually fairly heavy. It fell with a clatter and my anger was gone, replaced with the same fear that everyone else had.

I don't know what I did. I don't know if anyone else knows what I did. I can only hope I'll survive the punishment.

Why is it a problem that I am attempting to practice my writing with both hands? Everyone knows by now that I am ambidextrous. I feel equally capable with both sides. Why do mother and a majority of my instructors feel compelled to admonish me whenever I switch to my left for a change?

If I was ever provided a reason, however flimsy it might be, I would begrudgingly respect it. But no, it is only "wrong". They do not even bother trying to come up with any excuse at all, let alone a valid one. "Use your right hand," they say, as if it is patently obvious that this is the one and only correct way of doing things. As if they think this will somehow make me less inclined to continue trying otherwise.

Should I not be encouraged to develop any unique skills I may possess? Or am I supposed to be just an average person with no standout characteristics? That's probably what they want, actually. A generic princess they don't have to put any extra effort into raising. They already put all their effort into Brother. I'm just here because the tradition says I must be.

I refuse to let that happen. Perhaps I am useless, but I'm not going to be generic at the same time.

Brother seems to be making it a constant that he gives me books for my birthday. A most excellent choice. Though I do wonder where he gets his recommendations from; The Hundred Dresses is not exactly something I envision him having read during his childhood.

But more interestingly, I got a gift from the chief of Frontier Village, Dunga. It seems he was made chief somewhat recently and this is the first birthday of mine he could send a gift for. I haven't met him yet, but Brother says he is rather young and energetic for a chief. The gift is just flowers and sweets, but the intent is the interesting part - why would the chief of the Nopon send me a birthday gift? There is no tradition being followed, and he cannot know much of anything about me.

I suspect he's trying to make himself look good, by taking an unprompted interest. If so, I don't really care. Brother is the crown prince, he'll be the one interacting with the Nopon chiefs. I'll have nothing to do with it.

I wonder if he's cute like the rest of the Nopon.

No, wrong thought. Nopon are people, as much as we are. They are not living pillows for our enjoyment.

...

...But still.

There must be some reason that division by zero is treated so unusually. Every other arithmetic question I know has a numerical answer. Why is this specific case different?

Division is described as distributing items equally. It is logical that one cannot break six things into zero groups. But if that were truly the case, my calculator would also display an error if I attempted to divide into "one and a half" groups. Instead, it provides an answer that makes a degree of sense if the logic is thrown out and only the digits matter.

It must be another case where the true answer is "too complicated". Wasn't I once told that numbers below zero did not exist, only to be later told they do? Perhaps this is similar. Perhaps if I divide by numbers very close to zero, I will see a pattern emerge.

Hmmm... As the divisor becomes smaller, the result becomes larger, regardless of the dividend. There does not seem to be a limit.

Oh there is a limit. "OVERFLOW". But that's a limit of the calculator, not the numbers involved. The true answer is larger than the device can count.

...So does this mean that division by zero results in...the biggest number that exists? But there is no rule that one cannot keep adding. There is always a bigger number.

Well, I suppose that makes a degree of sense. If the answer to division by zero is "the biggest number", but there is no such number, then saying the operation is not allowed is sensible.

Mathematics are fascinating.

Of any year, I think I would appreciate celebrating my birthday this year more than any. Even seven months later, Brother's hundredth looms over me. It keeps coming to mind a few times a week. It...haunts me. I feel I need one of my own posthaste to cleanse my mind.

I don't even know if I'm remembering the event, or only remembering what it felt like to me. I suppose it doesn't matter very much. The mood was...It was not a birthday celebration. There was cake and gifts, but it was not a proper birthday. It was a public event and a formal dinner. Those are boring and stuffy. Birthdays should be the opposite.

Is that what will happen to me eventually? Even the celebrated birthdays will stop being celebrated as birthdays? I suppose it's inevitable unless I die first. Or unless Brother fixes it. But he won't. He can't, it's too culturally-ingrained. He can't change everyone's minds at once. And even if he could, he probably wouldn't. Everyone would have to suddenly start spending a lot more money on gifts and cake, and they'd be rightfully angry about it.

I suppose all I can do is enjoy the ones I have remaining.

Where do you see yourself in fifty years?

Well, this proves that I'm being taught a standard curriculum rather than any sort of personalised one. Anyone who knows me or my status knows the answer to this by default.

I shall be sitting idle in the palace, accomplishing nothing of importance. Occasionally, Father may ask for my opinion on some imperial matter, just to suggest I am not dead weight. I will provide it, and it will be ignored.

It sounds even worse when I write it down, to be honest.

Next question.

Where do you see the world in fifty years?

Now this has potential to be a bit more interesting. Hmmm...

Empress Entirmina will be near the conclusion of one of the longest reigns in recorded history, and there will be much sadness as it ends. There will be a long-awaited breakthrough in the science of allergy medication. The Nopon will have realised their distrust of metalworks is holding them back, and begun a new age of prosperity. The Homs will have finally succeeded in re-establishing a long-destroyed colony.

Rather optimistic perhaps, but all within the realm of possibility.

Next question.

If you could change any one thing with no consequences, what would it be?

I could answer this with changes that better myself, such as making myself pure-blooded, or making myself no longer a princess. But I sense that's not the intent of the question.

We need to re-establish open relations with the Homs. It is not obvious how, but we need them as much as they need us.

I finally noticed something. Mother is always extra-nice to me during my uncelebrated birthdays. It's taken some time to notice the pattern but it is undeniable. Refilling my supply of consumable writing utensils. Never making me do anything undesirable, unless mother or Father is involved. Always asking me what I want to do. And dinner is always sourshrimp, my favourite. She must feel bad about being mandated to not hold a full celebration, and looks for ways to get as close as she can.

I wish I didn't notice. Now I'm going to be looking for it and comparing it to a true celebration. I've ruined it by observing it.

Next year is a proper celebration. Perhaps I will forget this tidbit for the year after. I hope so.

It feels good to have a birthday celebration again.

There's something about it that makes me feel good about myself. Is it the gifts? The cake? The attention being invariably positive for once, even if formed of white lies? Some combination of these, most likely.

Actually, another factor would be that birthday celebrations are, essentially, common. There is little, if anything, of them that is caused or ordained by my being a princess. I have the same sort of experience as everyone else. In this case, not being special ends up instead being very special indeed. How quirky.

It's difficult to select the best gift this year. The giant cuddly nebula is hard to discount on principle. But apparently it changes colours based on the cuddler's mood, and I'm not sure if I appreciate that. This would leave the book of interconnected maths puzzles to take the top spot. Except that I don't know enough to complete it yet, which is...maddening, but the good kind. So then, next on the list would be the bunnit slippers. Not the typical thing I would mark as the best, but certainly the one with the least reservations.

...I need to determine why "forty" is not spelled correctly. It trips me up constantly.

It feels so...empty, the year after a birthday. I'm not even sure if I can remember having one two years in a row, or if I'm only imagining it instead, yet it still feels like that's how things should be. One every year.

I suppose it doesn't help that Mother has one every year, as she is Homs. True, no one else celebrates it other than the two of us, but that's more than those who are celebrating mine this year.

Of course, even then we don't truly celebrate it in the Homs way. Mostly in the sense that I have no means of gifting her anything. And even if I could, what could I possibly get her? She has so much more freedom than me; she can get anything she wishes with quickness and ease. All I can do is handmade birthday cards, which she does say is enough, but to me it still feels hollow.

Why does the cadre not celebrate with us? Are they not supposed to be the closest thing we have to friends? They must think it ought to be a family-exclusive occasion, but birthdays are intended to be celebrated by friends as well, yes?

It's all very unfair.

Mother is being sillier than usual today. Apparently, the number forty-two is funny to her, as it's the punchline of a joke from a novel. It's...I forgot already what the novel is called. I should ask her to write it down for when I'm old enough to enjoy it properly. It's interesting that a novel could make a number funny.

Mother is seventy years old now. That's...the rate is four and a half...four times seven is twenty-eight, and five times seven is thirty-five, so halfway between those...somewhere over three hundred in High Entia years. Older than Father, surprisingly. She ages almost five of my years for every real year. How long do Homs normally live? How long can they keep living beyond that with our technology? I want to know but also don't want to know.

In any case, she is old. She'll die sooner rather than later. Possibly before I'm an adult.

And I'll have nothing to support me.

{loneliness}

{monachopsis}

{regret}

{pâro}

{longing}

{liberosis}

{melancholy}

{misslieness}

{hollow}

Hogard is trying to be overly nice today. I think he suspects I had a terrible time this day last year and wishes to amend it. But he is trying too hard. It is too blatant, too drastic a change from his natural behaviour. Aizel seems to have a similar opinion and has been trying to distract him. This is not exactly improving matters.

I wish I could tell the both of them to just go away. But no, I am not old enough to have any real control of the cadre, and it is mandated that at least two of them are within arm's reach at all times. I do not blame Father for this, it is an entirely logical thing to do when you desire to protect someone too young to protect themselves. Yet it still irks me.

Is this something that a real friend would do? Pestering me despite knowing it is not truly helping? I wish I knew for certain. From the fiction I read, it does seem as if causing discomfort is indeed a component of friendship. If so, I do not understand. A friend should be trustworthy and respectful, not cheeky and needling.

I suppose I'll never know what a real friend would be like.

Not until my fiftieth will I have another celebration. It seems so long ago, and so far in the future.

I wonder how it was decided which years to celebrate. All years to twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy-five, one hundred, and every fifty after that. I see the gradual lengthening, but not any particular reason for the specific years. How did our entire society agree to follow it? Surely, at some point in the past, there would have been multiple contingents with their own opinions. How did it come to be universal?

It is disappointing how little information we have on the times before Alcamoth, and what little we do know is mostly politics and war. Even the cultural aspects we know are primarily related to knights, armies, nobles, and such - practically nothing on the common folk, nor the things that all shared. That it makes sense does not excuse it from being depressing.

The Homs must have it even worse. Their shorter lifespans make it naturally more difficult to keep longer records, and I would presume they're constantly losing copies to Mechon attacks. How sad.

Aha! I knew something was suspect! And here it is, plain as day!

It is often claimed that High Entia cannot taste capsaicin. While this is a myth, it is indeed true that most High Entia are far less sensitive to it and similar "hot" spices than other species such as Homs.

This is what I've been looking for. Absolute, conclusive proof that I am not in the wrong when I complain about a meal burning my tongue yet the rest of the family is unbothered. I've inherited the Homs weakness to capsaicin.

Now, how should I use this information properly? I cannot simply put it out and expect to be given preferential treatment - I need to show further evidence of how debilitating it is. There needs to be enough conclusive facts that not even mother can deny I am suffering. I will need to be clever.

I came upon this while reading for a nutrition project. Perhaps my instructor will permit me to take a bit of a side track if I explain my goal.

I miss Mother's villa.

It was so much quieter there than in my palace chambers here. Not in volume, but in ether. It was so much easier to sleep when only Mother and two cadre members were nearby, and the gardens just outside provided extra stability. But here, the guards are ever-changing, and I can sense the maintenance workers moving through the corridors all around. It's so much more chaotic.

It's been...almost five years without her, now.

I still feel alone. Living closer to the rest of the family has not helped. It might even have done the opposite, it's hard to be certain, what with the additional meals together and such allowing for additional opportunities to be raked and trodden upon. It is still crystal clear that I am the odd one out, in more ways than one.

Is she watching me right now? Or do spirits require sleep as well? They must sleep even if they don't need to, or they would get incredibly bored every night. Assuming they even perceive time the same way we do.

Maybe I should die. Then I'll be able to rejoin my true family.

Well, this is disappointing.

I believed I was being taught how to play the recorder as part of some overarching program for musical ability. But no. Apparently, it is standard practice for all children of Alcamoth, as a front for refining fine motor skills and detecting potential breathing problems. Once I've been judged adequate in these areas, it will end.

True, I wouldn't have cared to do well if I had known the real reason. But this sort of manipulation is...I'm not quite sure what word to use. Well-meaning, yet no less insidious. Exploitative of the subconscious.

I will be formally taught mental philosophy and theory of mind at some point, yes? I would think that sort of thing to be important if it is expected for me to live alongside the ministries and corporations. Perhaps I will be able to spot this sort of thing in other lessons.

I suppose I begin adolescence next year. That will be trouble. Not because I will suddenly turn into a rebellious youth, but because everyone will expect me to, and set expectations accordingly.

The question is: will I be smothered, or cast loose? Will I be given too many new rules and restrictions to take a single step, or freed of too many at once to know what to do with myself? I never paid enough attention to Brother to know what such rules he was under. Then again, he never had to wear the mask, so everything is likely biased against me anyways. He's the advantaged one in every possible fashion.

If I had to guess...I think both will happen. I will be assigned about three new limits for every two that I am released from, with perhaps...one point of freedom I will enjoy, and two new rules that I will loathe, with the remainder being comparatively irrelevant. Overall, a net loss. Some would think this pessimistic, but I am still predicting something good to come out of it, thus it is not.

Perhaps I should be more pessimistic. It will be harder to feel disappointed.

People must not remember their own fiftieth birthdays, for mine to have been so disrespectful. Being verbally berated for simply requesting a drinking straw? I don't recall ever being warned that the rules would change overnight, and that is the sort of thing I would not only remember but dread.

I was also asked to cut the cake, for the first time ever. I don't think my hand has ever trembled so much. Why was the knife so dangerously sharp? Cake is not exactly thick or tough. What would have happened had I cut myself? I almost wish I did, simply to show them their folly.

But if only that was the worst of it. If I ever again open the cupboard where I hid those...those feminine products, it will be a lifetime too soon. I'm sickened just thinking about it. If I were to find that mother only hates Homs for their female biology, I would be hard-pressed to disagree with her. After what happened with my education on the subject, I can't believe I completely forgot about the possibility this might happen at some point. Why didn't Mother warn me about any of this? Did she think I was too young? Did she assume that I would only inherit the correct side? Or did it simply not occur to her?

At least there was one advantage to come out of today: as an adolescent, I am not required to be accompanied by my cadre at all times within the palace. I still cannot enter every room unquestioned, but I may otherwise wander at will. I've always been self-conscious of wanting to simply pace the corridors with no destination from being forced to drag someone else along. So I think I'll appreciate this small step towards freedom.

It's been a year now since being allowed to move without the cadre by my side, and I must say, I feel so much more independent as a person. Merely the ability to be alone in more places than just my chambers has done much for my general outlook.

I suppose it's ironic, that I now feel this solace and freedom in being more alone, when being more alone from the loss of Mother was such a terrible experience. It must be that I only felt alone in spirit while never feeling alone in person. That is quite the disconnect.

I wonder how the cadre feel about me essentially abandoning them. Do they understand my mindset? Or do they feel insulted and rejected? I'd never quite considered it before. It has been a while since I have last seen any of them. Perhaps I should seek them out and explain myself. Then at least I can guarantee they are informed. It is not a slight against them - I still view them as the closest thing to friends that I am allowed to have. But I have spent so much time with them looming over me, that I feel I have earned an equal amount of solitude.

Perhaps they are equally relieved that they get to actually take a break for once. They've been guarding me and Mother for over fifty years straight; regardless of how they feel about us, that must be tiring. Now I know I must speak to them about it - I am curious.

Seventy-three words per minute. That's all right I suppose. I think I can reach eighty within a month or two.

It's odd how much fun it is to push myself to type faster. I don't even really like typing compared to writing, yet I feel a grand push to accelerate my speed with it. I wonder why - it's not as if I am ordained to reach some number, or to outdo someone else.

Perhaps that is in fact the reason - it is because there is no requirement for me to improve, contrary to everything else in my life, that I wish to.

I shouldn't overthink it then. That might ruin the motivation.

I wish Brother would cease attempting to goad me into taking an interest in chess. I have nothing against the game itself, and it's not as if I am ignorant of the rules. Rather, I do not wish to get involved with a game that takes so much effort to play correctly. How am I supposed to enjoy a game when playing well requires daily hours of studying openings and practising mating patterns? And Brother is so much a better player than I am, I can't imagine attempting to play against him would be fun for either of us. Homs chess is much simpler, but as a result he is certainly equally good at it.

Perhaps I should counter by badgering him into a hobby of mine. But that is risky. What if he actually agrees? Not only would I be obligated to then take up chess in response, I would be unable to partake in whichever hobby I selected without his presence looming over. He is far more skilled than I in all possible things, after all.

What if I accepted, only to display absolute incompetence? Would he give up, or double his effort to teach me? I feel it would be the latter, which would not have the desired effect. He does not exactly give up easily, and he would assume that me accepting shows a desire to learn properly.

I suppose all I can do is continue to decline, and hope he eventually relents.

Untold millennia of medical history and they haven't figured out how to stop the common cold. What is even the point then? What are they doing with all their budget?

{sneeze}

Ugh, it's all over my glove. That's the third one today. Disgusting.

If only I could just go to sleep and start tomorrow. But no, it's not even noon yet. And even then, it's hard enough to breathe that going to sleep would be an ordeal in itself.

Maybe I'll badger Father to look into what the Ministry of Health is doing. Perhaps they ought to use a shift in priorities.

I think mother has forgotten how much she pushed for me to start wearing gloves all those years ago. Though I suppose the alternative of "she wants me to wear nail polish at all times anyway" is not exactly out of the question. She will search for any reason to find fault with me.

It's a waste of my time to apply, but if I am able to prove that yes I have done it a couple times, perhaps she will eventually stop prying about it. Then I shall never have to do it again. Though I suppose I ought to practice every now and again, in case something comes up that requires coloured nails and disallows gloves. I'm not sure what this could be, but dress codes can be a bureaucratic nightmare.

At least I'm ambidextrous. I couldn't imagine having to paint one's nails with a non-dominant hand. To be fair, it's difficult for me to imagine anything of the sort. I vaguely remember my handwriting being of slightly different character with each hand not long ago, but that's about it. It's unfortunate that mother would not even see this application of my ability as beneficial. She would expect perfection on both hands regardless.

Faint pink, I suppose. An inoffensive and subtle shade.

It is past time to admit the truth: I am not fundamentally opposed to being a princess anymore.

I still dislike it, to be sure. I hate every one of the overly-restrictive rules and expectations that no one else has to deal with. I don't want to be forced to care about not only all the politics, but whatever's happening behind the scenes of all the politics. I never had the opportunity to have friends, or to play freely, or to make my own decisions. I only had a fraction of a real childhood.

But now that I'm more able to see the future, I can see the advantages. I'm receiving the best possible education and will continue to do so. I'll never have to work for money, worry about taxes, or maintain a household. I'll be forever as safe as possible from accidents or natural disasters. I won't be forced to marry and start a family - in fact, as far as I can tell this would be actively discouraged.

So the question is now, is it worth it? Is my oppression as a child worth the possible peace of mind as an adult? Mathematically the answer is "yes" merely because childhood is expected to be less than half of life. But what if a better childhood could have made me a better person more able to appreciate such adulthood? It may not be an answerable question.

I am certain that very few people my age have ever contemplated this. The normal ones simply assume that being royal is an eternal vacation where one lounges all day and parties all night, while the other princes and princesses statistically all relish their position despite the disadvantages, with both groups only realising the reality many years later. What was the number, ninety-three percent of royal children enjoy being royal? Or is that the enjoyers plus the indifferents? In either case, I am still part of the minority.

If only I could spend even a day on the other side. Then I could create a truly informed opinion.

So another birthday arrives, and nothing happens.

I am starting to understand why we High Entia do not celebrate them all. We age so much slower than Homs that one year means rather little. What is the need to celebrate aging when there has been little change over five years? I still think they are much too few and far between, but I can see the logic in the premise now.

What must it feel like to be Homs? Fifty-seven is...easily old enough to have grandchildren and medical issues. I haven't even finished growing yet. It's incredibly difficult to imagine a Homs having lived most of their life already by this point. How much faster must it feel like things pass them by? Combined with the constant fear of Mechon attacks, it is no wonder they celebrate not dying every year.

I suppose Nopon are much the same, though with the Mechon threat being replaced by various predators of the jungle. Curious, how the Nopon age almost the same as Homs, yet we High Entia are so much slower. There must be some evolutionary reason for this drastic difference. Then again, there is a remote chance that the zealots are indeed correct, and the Bionis has hand-picked us as being unique in this and other facets. I'm not sure whether that would be a good or a bad thing.

In any case, it is good that I am how I am. There's no way I could have led a productive life as another race by this point.

One day.

I am going to draft a proposal.

I am going to speed it through every channel available.

I am going to shudder with glee as Brother signs it.

And I am going to take the first hammer strike to it myself, even if I have only artificial limbs remaining.

I am going to kill that buggering third-floor staircase before it kills me first.

Why is it that, out of everything that is critically important, it seems that this is the thing I forget the most? I feel like I've re-read this reminder less than a year ago. Ugh.

The Empress Mask, A Short Reminder - Melia, age 30
I'm tired of forgetting these reasons so I'm writing them down.

I have to wear the mask and headdress because, in simple terms:
* Some people don't like seeing small wings. Half-blooded people don't need help being insulted.
* Some half-blooded people have round ears, or curly hair, or gold hair, and so on. Some of these make people angrier than small wings. If everyone wears the headdress, one person wearing it is not suspicious.
* Some events and rituals require the mask because it has historical importance. It's best to get used to it, in case one of them happens.
* People will try to marry a princess because they like how she looks. If they don't know how she looks, they have to actually love her instead.
* A few other small reasons that I don't think matter enough to write down. The above is enough to say I must do it.

If people see me without the headdress, that is bad and I will be in trouble. At the least, I will probably be forced to change my hairstyle.

If people see me without the mask, that is very bad. I would probably rather die than take the punishment, which I'm not writing down so I don't remember it.

These are so simple and logical. How on Bionis do I constantly forget them?

Mother once told me that the first she saw of Brother was a photograph of his sixtieth birthday. It was the week she met Father, when he was in Colony 9 searching for a potential Second Consort. I don't think I've seen the photo in question myself, which is somewhat disappointing. It would help me compare our birthday celebrations.

This one has been fairly good, all things considered. I was not asked to cut the cake like the previous one. I was gifted some novels and surprisingly decent accessories. The hired entertainment was fairly good.

But most interestingly, Father took me to see Prison Island. We only approached on the yacht rather than step foot upon it, but it was still a sight to behold up close. The gigantic seal on the front entrance caught my eye the most of anything. Even at such distance, I could feel its power radiating, ensuring that nothing on either side could move the great stone doors.

Father told me many things during the excursion. How he believes Prison Island was once embedded within Eryth Sea, given a ring of submerged mountains directly underneath it. How the Mechonis siphons ether from the Bionis via its sword, intensifying the natural cold of Valak Mountain. How some still believe that the distant reaches and hidden depths of Bright Shoulder Plateau still hold undiscovered treasures of the Giants. How Telethia seem able to fool every sort of scanner known to science in order to slip by all possible automated defence systems. How the most powerful telescopes can see what appears to be a large humanoid statue buried within the Mechonis' neck. Some of this I already knew, but much was new to me.

I maintain that Father does not actually love me. But I also believe he truly does want me to succeed academically, not just so it looks good on him. He wishes for both his heirs to be steeped intellectuals, such that Brother's future rule can be backed up by an equal mind rather than a lesser one. A wise strategy.

The moon hangs in the Rhapsodist, illuminating the scroll he carries, ready to inspire those born under his watch. His stars are said to be named after artists and epics of a bygone, long-forgotten age.

At his head lies Gilgamesh, the second-brightest permanent star in the sky, behind Eureka of Pedagogue.

At his chest lies Homer, a star that seems to pulse like a beating heart.

In his outstretched hand lies Shakespeare, small but bright.

In his opposite arm lies Poe, faint yet distinct.

At his hip lies Toriyama, of average size but unusual sparkle.

The four of his legs are Donatello, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raffaello. Some say they are brothers, others, rivals.

The seven of his scroll are Asimov, Austen, Dickens, Dumas, Fleming, Guanzhong, and Tolstoy. Producing the finest works for the souls in the afterlife to read.

The nine surrounding his head are Armstrong, Bach, Beethoven, Bulsara, Kondo, Lennon, Mozart, Presley, and Williams. Producing music more beautiful than mortal ears can comprehend.

...

This is not helping me get to sleep as it normally does. What else can I try?

The mirror of fate is the mirror of hate. The two, they are one and the same.
No other emotion has such strong devotion, or burns with a near-equal flame.
It is not only rage that can make history's page, but its ink leaves the most blackened scar.
Of the sort one can't heal from the warrior's wheel, or to hide from the nethermost star.

Hmmm..."nethermost"? Somehow my mind wants to supplant that with "nadirest", the most nadir. But that isn't a word, is it? It ought to be.

This should be adequate. It's only an exercise in writing syllabic metre; there's no need to insert any deeper meaning.

I'm now exactly half of Brother's age. That's mildly interesting.

I suppose that means this is how old he was when I was born. I never truly did know him as anything but an adult, did I? I only have stories of his claimed adolescent exploits, no memories. Then again, if even half the tales are true, he would have been a terrible influence on me had I been able to recall any of it.

Mother once said that Brother originally attempted to ignore me at every turn, but soon learned this was a foolish endeavour. I can see that; of course a formerly-only child would be somewhat in denial about having to share his family's attention.

What would my life be like without Brother? Would I be given the respect he is for being the heir apparent, or would I be given extra disdain regardless for being half-blooded? Then again, if I were the only, I would be pure-blooded, and essentially everything would be different to the point where any guesses would be pure fiction.

I don't think I could handle being an older sibling. I have enough trouble having an older sibling.

I think Brother is mocking me. I've seen him three times so far today, and each time he noticed me, he began whistling the same tune. Two is a coincidence - three is a pattern. My age today must be an inside joke to him.

Should I ask him about it?

No, I needn't bother. Humour loses its value when explained. He can have this one day.

I suppose this Practice Staff is technically a birthday gift. I think I like it more with that in mind; it allows me to pretend somewhat that it isn't fifteen years between celebrations this time. What would have happened had I chosen the revolver to train in instead? Certainly I cannot think of a reasonable means of practicing gunplay with independent safety in the same way as the Practice Staff allows, so I much doubt I would have been given any sort of permanent training weapon.

I still don't know why I was given such a large range of weapons to choose from. Did anyone seriously expect me to wish to train with a weapon of strength and power such as the sword or hammer? Why even offer the ether bazooka as an option when anyone who's met me could easily assume I could not even lift it? I do appreciate being given a choice, but in some way it's also an insult, that no one could guess I would select something of pure thought and will.

I wonder why exactly my training has begun five years ahead of schedule. Perhaps it is as simple as Aunt Entirmina believing that my natural ether affinity needs to be honed sooner rather than later. How often does such a thing happen? There must be some way to find out, even if in the non-public record. Or perhaps I could simply ask? It ought to be a safe enough question.

Good grief, yet another blouse now too tight to wear without significant discomfort. How many is that merely this calendar year? At least five I believe, and of course none of them of the disliked variety.

Can my body not just stop? I've been sick of this breast business for over a decade now. Why must they continue to enlarge? Am I going to be spending the rest of my life leaning forward in another twenty years? It honestly seems as if that's the direction I'm heading at this point. How will I be expected to stand upright if this doesn't stop posthaste?

I know I'm overreacting. It's not as if it's happening suddenly enough to actually detect a change. But it's still beyond frustrating every time I notice. And if this continues, it will render itself noticed far more often.

Sometimes it truly seems as if I could not have lost the genetic lottery much more than I have. This is of course a gross exaggeration - I don't have the Homs sensitivity to sunburn, or acne, or reproductive organs. But the small wings, the rounded ears, the curly hair, the lack of height, the thin build... Perhaps I do not have the truly debilitating Homs traits, but I have all those that draw attention as being half-blooded and feeble, without even having those that are rare enough to draw positive curiosity. And when combined with this overinflating chest...

I want to say it can't get worse. But of course it can.

What might I give up to have full access to the library without someone constantly looming over my shoulder? If I wished to find something "inappropriate", I could simply lie and say it's for a school project, and no one would be any the wiser. The bureaucracy is vast, no one ever communicates across the way enough to know who even to speak to in order to verify such a claim. Having an aide shadowing me at all times is such an intense distraction, and sucks the entire enjoyment out of the library experience.

I suppose even with total freedom of access, using the library purely for research would not exactly be fully enjoyable by itself. It feels so much more like work than leisure, to trawl the archives for evidence that supports an essay. Which I suppose is the point, to get me used to doing such things, for when Brother will inevitably need help doing so for legal purposes. Normally I would simply acknowledge that he is better at it and needs no help, but for this sort of thing, having more hands on the problem is of great worth.

It isn't many years before legal adulthood, is it? Perhaps once that happens, I'll be permitted to cast off this overseer. If so, I might actually have something to look forward to.

What's this? Loose trash circulating the Great Hall? Abominable. Where are the cleaners?

Well, I suppose it may be recent enough to have not been seen by anyone else yet. I will not berate anyone for being just a moment too late. I shall deal with this myself.

Hm. It's a sheet of newspaper. Horoscopes. Not exactly the most rigorous field of study. But "Born today (February 22nd)"? I do feel somewhat intrigued. Let's have a look.

* You are a brilliant and determined person. Others can only get you down if you let them. Keep on trucking with whatever passion you have, because no one else will.
* The year ahead will bring many changes, one greater than all the rest. You'll have to get out of your comfort zone some way or other - do it yourself, or others will do it for you.
* Watch the stars carefully later this year. Something spectacular will herald an important future event, even if it seems like nothing right now.

Seems generic enough to apply to anyone who reads it. I can't say I'm surprised. Where is the nearest recycling bin?

Father is troubling me.

The questions he's been asking me lately suggest he is not pleased with how far my training with the ether staff has already advanced. I suspect he is going to try and slow me down in some manner or other. He must have been unhappy from the outset when Aunt Entirmina decided to start me early, and now that she's dead and he's emperor, he can alter my path.

He must believe that leaving me on my current trajectory would render me a threat to take the throne away from Brother. It's the only explanation that makes any degree of sense. Why else would he be displeased with his notoriously weak daughter becoming stronger? He must think I ought to be weak so I am a non-factor in all imperial matters, as if I would somehow stop being supportive of everything Brother would do.

I always knew he preferred Brother, but he was never before quite this blatant about it. Perhaps becoming emperor has changed him; perhaps now that he has the advisors reporting directly to him, and now that Brother is one step closer to the throne, he sees things differently. What a shame.

Seventy. The first round number that is not a celebrated birthday. What was the last one even like? I remember it well, but only as if it were a lifetime ago. Obviously, the intent here is to delay the next celebration until the age of seventy-five, adulthood.

I would have been present for Brother's adulthood birthday, but I have no memory of it. I cannot use it to predict what mine might be like, and asking around for accounts of it would sound foolish. What a shame. It would be so much less daunting a forebodance had I some context and expectation.

The previous two birthdays of a new age bracket both contained many changes as to how I was expected to act, none of which were provided in advance. It is reasonable to assume this will not improve for the next one. If I can predict what these changes might be, it would not be so bad. But this will be difficult at best, as Brother seems to have few if any similar limits on his behaviour, and I have no one else to observe. Perhaps restrictions will only be removed instead, which would be nice I suppose, but it is very hard to believe this could be the case.

The root problem here is surprise change.

Well now, this shampoo brand is so much better. I feel I can actually scrub my wings properly, rather than having to be careful and cautious about it. This ought to save much time in the shower.

"Extra-strength numbing agent", the bottle says. I wonder how exactly that compares to the other brand's "mega-strength numbing agent". Neither bottle reveals the ratio of ingredients, nor specifies which ones are relevant to this comparison.

Why have I never tried this brand before? My general dislike of change, no doubt. Ironic, how I spend so much effort avoiding change, only to find one that is drastically beneficial.

I just had a thought. Perhaps the effect of the change is only so drastic because it is a change, rather than because the new brand is actually an improvement. Perhaps my wings will become accustomed to this new formula, and to regain the full effect I must switch back to the old one. Hmm. I shall have to try and keep that possibility in mind.

If only I had full-size wings. Then I wouldn't have to deal with requiring oversensitivity-neutralising shampoo at all.

Election season is so much more painful now that I am obligated to actually pay attention. It was unimaginably easier to digest when all I had to focus on was the results after all was said and done. But now that I understand the process, I am mandated to form opinions on each newly-appointed minister, before it is decided which three are presented to the public as the prime ministerial candidates. Ugh.

At least I wasn't forced to also focus on each ministry's individual elections last month. That will come in the next cycle. Swell. Hopefully, being ninety-seven will give me enough tolerance for it.

So. The ministers.

Guruden of Agriculture needs an attitude adjustment. She will not get anywhere without learning how to respect the validity of the other ministries, to the point where I'm shocked she won her position. They must have scarce candidates.

Lellethurgea of Culture is not a good prime ministerial candidate. He's a good choice for their ministry, but he doesn't have the drive to improve the empire as a whole. Unfortunately he seems to be very good at wheedling and nepotism, and has already garnered much support out of it. The cad.

Olden of Defence is all right. Not much of a political mind, but very adept in his department. He will therefore not be nominated.

Niemsi of Education is very unpopular with the other ministries. Enough said.

Henriques of Environment is average to the point where it is difficult to say much about him. Thus, he's not really worth thinking any more about.

Ools of Finance would be my vote, had I one. She has some unpopular ideas that I agree with and has shown to debate them very well. I think she could do some great things if given the chance. But it's hard to believe the public will agree with some of her opinions. She ought to have started smaller.

Desarius of Foreign Affairs is, unfortunately, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. That sort of stigma is a killer of ambition, regardless of reality.

Jemmens of Health is a wimp. A crude and feeble word, a perfect encapsulation of the man. It may be that the ministers are simply representatives of their departments, but he takes it foo far, offering no real opinion or expertise of his own. For him to have made it out of the Health election must show a deeper problem with the ministry as a whole.

Saruk of Infrastructure is the incumbent, and it is easy to see how he won last cycle. He has a strong presence and force of will. But the people are still upset about the accusations, regardless of how definitively they have been disproven, and he may fall for it.

Aleduko of Investigation would be a standout candidate for her political acumen alone, so it's a shame that it is forbidden for the prime minister to be from the Ministry of Investigation. Understandably so, but still a shame.

Mahoda of Labour has held her position for two centuries and has not changed a thing in that time. She will remain irrelevant.

McLennestair of Law has directly requested to not be a candidate for the prime minister. This is quite unusual. Perhaps he simply wishes to focus on his ministerial duties, but it seems more likely that he is trying to hide something.

Cuprum of Resources is too antsy, too impatient to make a name for herself. The other ministers will punish her accordingly. Disappointing on both counts.

Zenfuras of Records...I'm not sure what to make of him. He seems charismatic enough in his element, but the moment another minister challenges him, he immediately concedes. Will he gain the necessary confidence in his own position if he becomes the prime minister, or will he be constantly bullied around by all the others? Hard to say at this juncture.

Nekudiora of Research is categorically despicable. Her insistence on being referred to as only her given name "Lorithia" is a microcosm of her overall attitude as a person. Too brash, too cocksure, too punch-drunk on the idea that she is the smartest person in the room and deserves to be treated as such. And the worst part is, she's probably right. She does indeed have impressive designs and feats to her name that point to a brilliant mind.

Relpin of Services has no tact. That is bad enough for any leadership position, let alone the Ministry of Services. I recall heavy rumours of backstabbing and nefarity in the department last month, so it was probably not a clean win.

Elkuns of Utilities knows what she is doing, but is too timid to hold her ground in debates. A bad quality to have for a leader.

I suspect that Lellethurgea, Nekudiora, and Saruk will be the three prime ministerial candidates. And of these, Nekudiora will probably win. She knows how to appeal to the people more than the other ministers. Her ego is immense but she is smart enough to hide it well in public. And given how quickly she's made her way through the ranks already, clearly she knows some tricks and shortcuts with working with the bureaucracy.

What a shame. I don't want to deal with her any more than I already have to.

I wonder how old the seer is. I know he's somewhere in late adolescence, but not much more specific. Hmm... I wonder if that means we will both reach our relative adulthoods in the same year. That would be vaguely amusing.

There's probably little point in asking though. I don't know if he's said even three words to me at a time. He seems to stay out of my presence. I wish I could tell if it's personal, or if he's like that to everyone but Father. I ought to ask Brother, he will share his experience freely.

Still, at least he's more personable than his father. It felt like Zordes would cross paths with me just to make a show of ignoring me. By comparison, I practically never see Alvis at all, yet he is always polite when we do meet. Perhaps it's just a factor of age? Difficult to tell, when interacting with either is a challenge.

...Alvis must be lonelier than I am. He is the only Homs in the palace, with no living family, and he's not even an adult. At some point, he will foresee an opportunity to find a spouse and produce an heir of his own, but until then he is entirely alone. Born into his occupation, forced by destiny to see it through. Essentially, just like me.

Part of me wishes to try and forge a friendship with him. But this is folly. If this were a good idea, he would have already done it.

It's only one year off now. The flow of time is cruel.

I want nothing to do with adulthood. I'm still many years from completing my education, from reaching full physical maturity, from being ready to have the expectations of me raised even further. It is quite simply too early.

I wonder if our predecessors only selected the age groups they did because they liked the clean numbers of twenty-five, fifty, and seventy-five, without taking physical and mental maturity into much account at all. I imagine this would be difficult if not impossible to research, given how long it has been treated as fact.

The Homs age of majority is eighteen, yes? That would equate to...eighty-one for High Entia. An extra six years. I can't guess at whether I would feel sufficiently prepared by then, but it would certainly be more than now.

Too much has happened today.

My new title is "Lady Melia", with "Princess Melia" being acceptable but discouraged. This will take some getting used to, and I doubt I will see myself as a "lady" for many years yet. Legal adulthood begins too early, in my opinion.

All my future birthday celebrations, assuming today's is the new standard, will be formal events moreso than personal parties. This is hardly a surprise, given what I've experienced from the rest of the family, but it is still jarring and somewhat depressing. They are no longer truly a celebration of life, but an excuse to splurge and socialise.

I am permitted to leave the palace at will and mingle amongst the populace, as long as I remain masked and accompanied. I do not foresee myself exercising this freedom to any degree. My anonymous excursions are trial enough, why should I venture forth as the lesser heir? Such will only invite anger and scorn.

I am also permitted to order food from the kitchens at will. This is also an activity I do not expect to partake in. I don't exactly have much growing left to do, and I've gotten this far without constant snacking and indulgence. I wonder why exactly this is a provision limited to legal adults, and why it was presented as a supposedly long-awaited privilege.

I have been handed control of Mother's villa. Another thing that seems very unlikely for me to make use of. It seems inconvenient to live outside the palace proper, especially since my classes are still in the palace - though on second thought, the commute might not actually be any longer compared to my current chambers. That might be worth looking into.

I was gifted all manner of useless trash, except for the novel from Brother, and will leave it at that.

Father has ordered a personal ship to be constructed for me, and Lorithia, brazenly assuming I cannot wait to hear of such an exciting development, has decided to spoil his surprise to tell me of this in advance. This is pure foolishness. Not only have I absolutely no need for a ship when I do nothing but sit in the palace, I have even less need for a Prime Minister with such callous disregard for her emperor's wishes. Of course, she will never learn if there are no consequences, and I have no means of enacting any.

All of my wardrobe has been destroyed without consent, and replaced with one seemingly tailored for the purpose of advertising that I have an adult body. If I have to wear parts of six different clashing outfits to achieve full skin coverage, so be it.

But finally, and most importantly, I shall soon have a staff of my own. I will be armed at all times, more than enough of a challenge for any further opponents who seek to kill me. I imagine having such a nexus of ether always by my side will also have health benefits. This was certainly the best news of the day.

On the whole, it's fairly easy to imagine today going far better, but also significantly worse. I suppose I can't ask for much more than that.

I think I will miss having real birthdays.

I wonder how much more formidable an ether user I would be had Father not limited my tutorage to one hour a week all those years ago. Only now have I begun to learn my fourth elemental - with three sessions a week, I can only imagine I might have progressed to all six by now. I cannot disagree that it is generally risky for one who is not yet of age to be taught such battle prowess, given they would not necessarily have developed the mental acumen to utilise it properly. But I do believe that of anyone, I would be one of the most trustworthy for it.

I've only had this Protect Staff for a few months, yet it feels like forever. It is attuned so perfectly I cannot imagine going back to the old Training Staff. To even call it a "weapon" almost feels inaccurate - yet there is no denying that it is, and by this metric I feel so much safer.

It's curious somewhat, how in my first year of being a legal adult, I have essentially never done anything that requires it. I could blaze through the palace actively searching for rooms I have never before been allowed into, yet I have no drive to do so. I must be entirely comfortable in my current existence. That's fine.

Something has just occurred to me. I have the means to give myself a birthday celebration even if others will not. I can simply take an anonymous excursion to buy myself some gifts and cake. Alternatively, I could ask the kitchens to give me a cake, given I'm allowed to order anything at any time now. The only way to stop me would be to retract the permissions that Father wishes for me to have.

...The fact that considering this has not immediately spurred me to act suggests that I do not actually care all that much. Hm. I wonder why?

I suppose part of it is other people. What is the point in a celebration of only myself? Buying gifts for myself? Attempting to consume an entire cake myself? It seems that doing all of this alone would actually feel rather depressing, essentially reinforcing the notion that nobody else cares. Perhaps Brother would humour me once or twice, but that might actually make it worse. Like...

Like a toddler's pretend tea party.

Well.

That's not a comparison I expected, but it's the raw truth. No matter what my intentions are, that's what it would look like. Good grief. Well, I suppose it's a good thing I wasn't very into the idea.

I might still get myself a cupcake though. That's benign enough.

I wonder how I would look with dyed hair. Something minor, such as a slight lavender tinge across the bottom. Or maybe more of an azure. It would be fairly easy to self-service as well, simply by dipping the curls in a pot.

Or perhaps I could be more brazen. A deep navy would make a statement. Maybe even a brighter colour such as tangerine or dandelion. Hm, what products might there be for dyes of bold hue yet only eighteen hours of retention? The idea of changing hair colours as easily as clothing, matching one's outfit daily, is intriguing.

Then again, what is the point in altering my appearance if I must remain masked to the public? It would only be visible to family and palace staff, most of which would likely not appreciate it. They would frown at me flaunting such brash and anti-traditional looks. And while anonymous in public, it would cause me to stand out like a streetlight in the darkness. Having curly hair is enough as-is; I don't need any extra avenues of derision.

I wonder how Homs feel about this sort of thing. They have a much wider variety of hair colours and styles. They must feel more open about being unique with it.

Father is so obtuse. If there is something he wishes for me to do or learn on these anonymous excursions, why does he refuse to say so? Evidently I am unable to stumble upon it by myself. If it's so important that you force me to continue despite my explicitly expressed dislike, then tell me what it is. There must be some ulterior motive of his involved, but I can't conceive of what that could possibly be, either.

What is the benefit of an essentially-disguised princess wandering the streets? I legitimately do not know. I learned how to pass as a commoner long ago. I am no longer given any goals or mandates to accomplish. Brother has a finger on the community's pulse without needing to do any such thing. And yet I am still forced to leave the safety of the palace, open to be captured or killed by random riffraff not even intending to assassinate a royal. I see only risk with no reward.

The more I think about it, the more it must be that Father believes that knowing the true reason would render the whole affair moot. Or perhaps that knowing would cause me to balk all the harder. These are not exactly good signs.

I can still hardly believe I'm going forward with this plan. My first foray into public as the princess since being allowed, and I'm using it to sneak into a meeting of this "Melia Appreciation Club" without the mandatory guard accompaniment. How blatantly out of character.

I suppose this shows the degree to which I am perplexed by the behaviour of these people. In some way, I feel like appearing in their midst will force a reaction to better gauge why they are so devoted to the lesser heir. They seemed fairly honest and pure when I observed anonymously last year - I wonder what will change when I reveal myself.

I wonder whether it's a coincidence that they meet the last Saturday in February, a day which can sometimes be my birthday. Probably not. If they truly are as devoted as they seem, it is deliberate.

Eighty-one is the equivalent of a Homs' eighteen, yes? The coincidence of reversed digits makes it easy to remember. I vaguely recall wondering if I would feel more ready to be an adult by now, compared to the legal age of seventy-five. Has that turned out to the case?

...Well, it is certainly closer, I suppose. Having my own staff makes it feel safer to be alone in public. I'm still in school, but only a few years of it remain. My body has stopped changing (I hope). There's not a lot left aside from my own personal trepidation.

I ought to do a study on this. There's an idea. I'll be done school soon, and since Brother isn't present in the Audience Chamber full-time, neither will I. I'll have time to organise and fund a study on how the citizenry feels about the hard cutoff of the privileges and responsibilities of adulthood. It would be focused on the young adults and older adolescents, but there would be no harm in listening to the opinions of all. Father ought to be proud of me taking a visible interest in the thoughts of the people.

What exactly is Lorithia's goal here?

As much as I hate to admit it, she is not oblivious nor stupid. She is fully capable of recognising that I have zero interest in the vessel she designed and constructed for me those years ago. So why does she continue to pretend as if each new feature she adds is something I am excited for and wish to experiment with immediately? I don't even remember what any of the previous ones are; that is the extent to which I attempt to ignore her. Yet still she persists.

Perhaps Father has put her up to it, but that feels too unlikely. He may be the one who ordained this vessel for me in the first place, but he himself has never tried to get me to use it. In fact, I can't remember a time where he ever even mentioned it. The few times I've been pushed into using it, it was Brother, and even then it was for a good reason rather than simply for recreation. It is a tool, not a toy, yet Lorithia seems fixated on me treating it as such.

I suppose it could be as simple as "please play with the toy I made you". But if it were that simple, I would expect her to be badgering me about it at every opportunity. And this is not the case; she only brings it up when she adds a feature or has otherwise made a change.

What is she trying to get me to do, and why?

I always have the newest and most expensive possessions. The moment something tarnishes or breaks, it is repaired or replaced the moment the palace's maintenance staff take notice. In a sense it's kind of boring. Everything is equally clean, spotless, and clinical. Wear and imperfections are what give a piece its personality.

Perhaps I should locate a broker of antiques, handmade items, or other odds-and-ends. Find something that is already worn and warm, that cannot be so easily replaced or refurbished, and display it proudly as a respect to the past.

Then again, has anyone other than security and maintenance staff been in my present chambers...ever? Who would I be showing off such art to other than myself? Even Brother merely looks in occasionally when he comes to fetch me for some reason or other. I do not recall anyone actually entering. So this would be purely for my own interest.

I wonder if this is a sign I should move to the villa. I would be able to decorate to my liking and show off possessions there in a way that I cannot with simply a bedroom here. Hmm.

Something nefarious is afoot.

I may dislike going on anonymous excursions, but they do provide me with information I don't hear elsewhere. And more than once this year already, I've heard these "red pollen orbs" be a hurried and hushed mention in the alleys. I haven't been to Frontier Village myself, but I have seen photographs. The vast majority of pollen orbs there are yellow, with some green and blue. There are no red ones. It stands to reason that red pollen orbs are some sort of secret, either in existence or in purpose.

This would be an excellent time to have our Nopon intelligence officers begin an undercover investigation. Alcamoth is open to Nopon, so thus obviously provides all the necessary Nopon services to its Nopon citizens, and clearly wouldn't try to solve Nopon problems with High Entia personnel.

Why am I bothering to be so drippingly sarcastic when thinking to myself? Facts are facts: everyone tries to ignore Nopon problems until they become High Entia problems, if only so we don't have to hire Nopon personnel. Yet another gigantic blind spot in our ways of thinking that no one wishes to acknowledge.

Something's not right and I have no proof to make anyone take it seriously.

It is oddly calming to stand alone in the Audience Chamber. Not truly alone of course, as there are still many guards in the vicinity, but with Father in the washroom and no other family members nearby, it is as close as I can get.

Sometimes, I sense a compulsion to step into the central throne. A strange feeling, to desire to stand where I would never wish to be. It seems foolish to assume that it would feel any different than a satellite throne, yet the pull to try remains. I suppose it is part of the general desire for that which is forbidden.

I can feel the Imperial Staff in the nook behind. Idle, patient, waiting to be called upon. Sometimes I step in front of it to merely gaze, as I have seen others do. I recall the time I tore it free in childish rage, and wonder if it feels lingering resent, or it instead understands and forgives. If only it were safe to take hold of it in an attempt to find out. But no, even without Father here, every guard in the room would take notice and draw nonzero attention to the attempt. I cannot think of a way to manufacture a situation where I could try. Multiple guards are posted in the chamber at all hours of every day, even during the yearly deep-cleaning. I have no means to avoid them, or to assign them all elsewhere, or to cause a credible distraction. No Earth Cloak gem would fool our eagle-eyed defenders explicitly looking for trouble. I would have to essentially become invisible, which...a strong enough Truth Cloak gem might be capable of it, but acquiring even a weak one would be its own adventure fraught with risk. In summation, I have nothing.

I wonder if Father would permit me to try if I explained myself. He cannot have forgotten the original incident. But to ask would be assuming he understands the nature of the staff in the same way I do, and there is no reason to expect that he could.

Perhaps I will get the chance one day.

How confounding. Five books of research so far, and Mind Blast is described as nothing more than a "push" of ether. There is no aid to be found in what sort of push this must be in order to avoid the ether spewing out at random points and angles.

This is not exactly a newly-invented art. In fact, the burst aura phenomenon is older than records exist. How are the texts so devoid of technical study? Training advice? Even personal anecdotes? I could simply be not looking in the right place in the daunting maelstrom of literature, but that is difficult to believe. It might be hasty of me to search for help and shortcuts after only a month of failure. But I still expected better than this.

Am I simply so skilled in the ways of ether that I am looking for complexity that does not exist? That it is a simple "push" for everyone else, but I require more details due to my deeper understanding of the underlying nature? I suppose such is possible. I did have to essentially learn Healing Gift in reverse, after all.

Once I have mastered the art, perhaps I will write a book of my own. One that goes into intricate detail of all the things I wish I had available for myself. The means to fire Mind Blast with ease; the mentality of the more complex elementals; the differences between elementals and other sources of ether such as gems. I could even add my research into the possibility of light and dark elementals, another topic I've always considered doing after my studies are complete. Perhaps even the minuscule chance of a fourth simultaneous elemental, should I feel ambitious.

Reflection took a grand total of three years to learn to full competency if I recall correctly, and it was done in two parts. So Mind Blast I would grant an upper bound of...five years, call it six. Thus, in six years maximum I can begin writing, and begin educating the experts of tomorrow.

I suppose this is the halfway point now, just about, between the last celebration and the next. I must say I've grown quite accustomed to not having one, and I wonder if I may indeed prefer it that way. After all, as an adult, what is a birthday celebration for? I have no real need of gifts or cake when I have the means to get whatever I desire at any time. There is no need for me to spend time with my family when I quite frankly see enough of them in daily activities. The last celebration was a socialisation party more than anything, and evidently this will not change much in the future, given Brother's one hundred and fiftieth some months ago. And I see no need to celebrate my age when there is no younger sibling to impress or dazzle with it. Everyone gets older at the same rate. It's not impressive.

Perhaps I ought to convince others sometime within the next thirteen years that I do not require nor desire any further celebrations. Mother would likely jump at the request to acknowledge me less, so Brother will have a hard time simply dismissing it - I can see it succeeding, if Father does not care either way as I suspect. This would likely not be reversible, so I'll have to deeply consider it.

Such blatant negligence! Were I head of the Plains Patrol, I would have someone's head for this sort of gross tomfoolery. But no, a slap on the wrist and an acceptance that there will be minimal news for two months. What if the Mechon attack Colony 6 in this time? We know the Mechon are rebuilding, we know the Homs are complacent, yet there is no appetite to even pretend to care for the race's fate. Deplorable.

The Battle of Sword Valley was just about a year ago now, yes? I remember sneaking away to watch it from afar. The odd blue light that won the day still piques me. What could it have been, to dart around so erratically before detonating with such power? I know of no technologies of ours that behave similar, and the Homs are...significantly behind us. Yet it was clearly not of Mechon origin either.

I suppose I must hope they still have it.

This will take some getting used to.

How many Homs have ever lived to this age? Not many I would wager, especially given their lesser technological advancement and constant war against the Mechon. Nopon are less predictable, but I would suspect one of such age would mostly be surrounded by family, rather than mostly friends of a different species. So this may well be the first eighty-ninth birthday ever celebrated in purely Homs fashion.

I vaguely remember being distraught, many years ago, that my birthday celebrations were dwindling over time. I distinctly remember considering, not long ago, a request to never have another again. And now, I find myself poised to return to having one every year for the foreseeable future. Would this count as irony? It is at least something close.

I wonder what would have happened, had I not told Shulk when my birthday is? I imagine someone in the group would notice in November that they've celebrated all but Sharla's and mine recently, and from there either ask directly or search the public record. And Sharla already knew my astrological sign, so they would be able to pinpoint a month regardless. So it seems unlikely much would be different.

If nothing else, it will give me a constant to look forward to in this strange new world.

I shouldn't be surprised that Tyrea rejected my offer of birthday tea. She was raised by an order of traditionalist zealots; she will take time to become accustomed to anything but their staunch views.

I do pity her. She claims she is about thirty years my elder, yet openly admits she does not know if this is true, as Yumea fabricated many parts of her past. I get the sense we are much closer, perhaps even less than five years apart, but this is nothing but a vaguely-educated guess from comparing my sense of her ether with mine and other High Entia. She cannot even trust that her birthday is September 24th, as she's been told many other dates over the years in an attempt to actively disguise her origins. How sad.

I wonder if Alvis would reveal the truth if asked. He ought to know everything, after all, and this is not exactly a guarded secret from the ancient past.

I'm ready this time. The first year I had no idea it was happening. The second, I forgot until the morning of. But this year, I know my friends are on their way, and I am prepared.

It is perhaps a bit too egotistical to decorate the room myself, so I will leave the purchased materials for them to utilise as they see fit. The question is whether they will desire me to remain hidden in the bedroom while this is happening, or whether they wish for me to help. I suspect the latter, but it's a coin flip. It likely depends on whoever happens to speak up first.

I suppose it's possible that they have already planned something elsewhere. We are beginning to have the means to host winter parties in locations other than participants' homes. But I find that unlikely at this time. It seems more probable that they wish to keep it more contained and personal, which I do prefer.

I haven't felt this sort of excitement in a long while. It's captivating.

It's beautiful.

I never would have thought that the Homs would have this information available for more than two generations. I assumed they were too short-lived and concerned over the present to care much about their ancestors. And even if so, that their colonies were under attack for so long and so thoroughly that for complete records to survive would have been a tall order. For once, I am glad to be wrong.

I don't recall Mother ever mentioning much about her family at all. She was an only child, with two parents, an uncle, and a grandfather. That's all I can remember. Even their names escaped me until now. Did she assume I would not care for tales of her homeland? Or have I simply forgotten them all from so long ago? I would hope it is the latter.

How old would Mother have been this year? ...One hundred and twenty. Certainly beyond any natural Homs age, and likely beyond memory of many still alive even if she had a wider family. It's somewhat of a shame that there is no one I can impress with tales of their ancestor. I suppose that's the case for many Second Consorts actually; the safest candidates would be those with little family to leave behind.

Tomorrow, I will ask Shulk for every detail of how he obtained this family tree. But today, I will simply gaze upon it as the gift it is.

Tyrea made it a point during our tea that she will not get me any gifts until an "actual" birthday celebration. That is fine. As long as we connect and speak as equals every year, that will be enough. I will not force nor expect her to submit to the Homs custom.

When was the last time I had two celebrations in a row, let alone five? It would have been before I even left infancy, and I have no memory of it. In retrospect, why does our tradition even do this? Instilling false hope about yearly birthday celebrations, only to take them away just as the child begins to accustomise to them? Then again, it's not like we don't have far more arbitrary traditions. All cultures have them to some degree.

Speaking of infants, I hope Riki's most recent arriving grandchild can wait for one more day. Perhaps it is selfish, but I do not wish to share my birthday with any of his family.

I have noticed that the general populace is trending towards dropping my name from the year to call it simply "year 6". I think this is a good thing, and not just because I've always felt it highly awkward to have my name as a regnal epoch - but because it is agnostic, with no bias towards any race. It also allows the definition of the current era to be done in reference to the new world's creation, which I imagine will be rather convenient in the future. And I imagine the computer programmers will be ecstatic about no longer having to add any more periods to the calendar.

Hopefully the next step will be to stop minting coinage with my face on it. I hate that too. Simply...put a flag or other symbol there instead of a person. That would remain relevant indefinitely, with no need to change it as figureheads age or die.

Speaking of which... Shulk turns twenty-five this year, as do Reyn and Fiora. As High Entia, they would just be entering childhood. Hmm...Mother would often stage satirical celebrations for me as I reached landmark Homs ages. I wonder if they would see the humour if I turned similar upon them, supplementing their normal gifts with children's toys or such, which can be then donated elsewhere. Shulk's birthday comes first, so the element of surprise would be lost on the others...he would understand it, but would he laugh or cringe? I wouldn't want to ruin the mood.

Perhaps I will let Riki in on it. His exuberance is sure to increase the odds of success.

I wonder why Alvis decided that this new world ought to plunge us into freezing temperatures every winter. He says it is to mimic the world of before Bionis, but this is not an answer to "why". We already know that other parts of this planet are more moderate or outright tropical. Why were we placed here instead of there? There must be something as of yet undiscovered that he has decided is important.

That said, it does seem to be having some interesting societal effects. The competition is fierce between the Homs and Nopon over whether the planned "midwinter celebration" holiday should be placed nearer the day of least sunlight in late December, or the day closest to the centre of the season in early February. I think I would prefer the former, if only to separate it from my birthday a little more. Selfish perhaps, but I wouldn't want any chance of people beginning to conflate the two.

I do wish the climate and my birthday were more aligned, but perhaps it is for the best. Were it possible to celebrate outdoors without doing winter-specific activities, I imagine it would be far more difficult to stop the general public from joining in and overwhelming us. Most of the reason it is enjoyable is the personal interactions with my friends.

I ought to provide the others a list at the start of the month, of the books I currently possess or have otherwise already read. Or perhaps the opposite, a list of books I soon wish to read. Shulk is lucky in that he gifted me the very next one I was planning to buy; I would not wish to be accidentally given a duplicate.

Not everyone will need this list, of course. Fiora's and Riki's arts and crafts are unique enough that I fear no duplicates of anything from them. Sharla prefers practical gifts rather than books. And the few books I've ever received from Reyn are of the brainteaser or puzzle type, of which there are hundreds. So only Shulk and Dunban would need such a list. If someone else attempts to surprise me with a book I already have, it's on them for trying to be unpredictable.

I suppose I could simply tell them what I wish to be gifted for my birthday. But that would take much of the fun out of it. And if I desire anything in particular, there is nothing to stop me from buying it for myself at any point in the year. So in a sense, birthdays are only for receiving that which one doesn't know they want.

Sometimes I think about the first house that Riki had built for me, and how difficult it would be to fit these years' worth of gifts inside. Only one floor with four rooms? There would simply not be enough shelves or walls to display them all.

Granted, even this larger house is beginning to fill up some. Not long from now I'll have to consider distributing things amongst my chambers in Alcamoth and New Alcamoth, should I not wish to store them away in the basement.

What would have happened had Riki not had the idea to build me a house initially? The delays in beginning New Alcamoth would mean more than one year of me not having a permanent residence. Perhaps I might have taken up space in Colony 6 for a time, but conversely, I would have been likely to wait until the last homeless person was satisfied before I even considered doing so for myself. It would have been difficult to have any birthday celebrations without a house to store my gifts.

And then it was Riki's idea to expand my house, or rather to replace it entirely with one that did not "squeeze" me, as he put it. I recall being concerned at the time that I would never have a use for so much space. I suppose it's true that things grow to the limit of their environment.

Now that I think about it, Riki will be fifty this year. Hmm...

I've had ten birthday celebrations in a row now, something that hasn't happened since I was twenty. The cake is a vastly different design every year. The gifts have started to become a bit more predictable, yet remain surprises more often than not. And overall, the novelty remains in full force.

The feeling of an adult being allowed to partake in a child's activity, without ridicule or embarrassment, is one of the rawest sensations of freedom and glee that I can describe. Even if for a short time, it washes away all the problems and obligations of the present, and only the moment remains. I feel as if I am surrounded by equals, not inferiors and superiors. The pure joy of a birthday has returned.

I wonder how much more of this will spread to the remaining High Entia, or if it already has. There will always be the traditionalists, but integrating ourselves with Homs and Nopon will do much to sway opinions over the coming years.

Another birthday, enjoyed and concluded.

It's nice to have something in the winter to look forward to, in the sea of cold and ice. The short days and inhospitable environment get very depressing as the months wear on, so having a birthday celebration as reward for making it through is much appreciated. I suppose that's why the midwinter celebration was created, so even those without a convenient birth date can partake in the feeling.

I wonder what my friends plan to do next year. I know they're aware that it is a year the High Entia do indeed celebrate, and that the number is of fair importance, if not quite as important as that of adulthood. I will keep my senses open - if they do indeed plan something bigger than usual, I will need to know.

...Hmm, I will have leeches and ingratiators trying to get on my good side via birthday gifts for the first time in a while. I'll need to be ready.

There it is. The three thousand six hundred and fiftieth sunrise. Give or take some leap years.

One hundred years. A full century.

Even raised as a High Entia, it's hard to fathom. I've outlived every Homs and Nopon in the world, and I'll do it again twice if not thrice. I'll be able to tell people what their great-grandparents were like. And of course now there is another layer, that of the Machina - even I will be a drop in the ocean to them.

There have been so many times I didn't think I'd get this far. It's probably fair to say that there has not been a year where someone did not wish to kill me, even now. After all, at one point I was committed to the idea that I existed for the purpose of being a heatsink for any ire towards Father and Brother. Only in recent years has it become clear that I was actually the more important one, and how many attempts on my life must have been suffocated before I ever knew of them.

...

Not long from now, I will get up and have breakfast. The moment I leave the house, perhaps even before should I dillydally, I will find myself in a full-day celebration orchestrated by my friends. They think they have done well to hide the evidence, which they have indeed done a fair job with, but they cannot conceal everything from me. I know they have been asking around to garner stories of my past to better honour it. I have seen the suspicious scheduling patterns across the entertainment sectors. I cannot ignore the grumblings of the supply chains, the movements of the Nopon caravans, or the rumours of declaring a new holiday. And this is all to the good - I hate surprises.

Of course, once the pomp and circumstance is all said and done, the true celebration will begin - just me and my inner circle of friends. They know I will seek solitude after the day's activities, but will insist on an additional get-together, with the traditional homemade cake and down-to-earth gifts. And that will be okay. I will need my alone time, but it can be postponed for one more round of just the seven of us.

Well, I suppose I should get it all started. You only become three digits once, and my entourage is waiting.