Chapter 571: Chapter 571 - A House Is More Than A Kitchen, Even If It Is The Living Heart... A Home Is More Than Its Big Tree, Even If Its Hidden Roots Love Deep

Roasting meat, fresh herbs being chopped on a board, and the warmth of bread grain cooling met Elua’s sense of smell as she paused in the doorway to the kitchen, just to take it in for a moment. Her stomach firmly reminded her that it had been doing *important romance work* for hours and had received nothing for the trouble. She was only ’lucky’ that she hadn’t had a reason to use her Physique’s trigger actions and deepen the pangs.

Yatrel was in the middle of the room when she heard the familiar gut noises, with her reddish blonde hair pulled up into a quick ponytail. One that was less elegant than her older hairstyles but more fitting for standing in the middle of the servants and helping arrange things.

Her hand found her hips in the same pose Onya imitated earlier... but she did not turn around. She was the very living cradle responsible for her daughter’s mint eyes and knew well enough by now that letting both sets meet would just give a strong chance to change her mood.

"I was wondering when, or if, you’d get to me. Surprise visits only sound nice when the scale is small. I thought I taught you better than to bring a half dozen unannounced guests to our doorstep on such short notice."

The voice was monotone enough for the woman, but the spiritual energy around the Fidelity holder was slightly amused in the deepest corners. Elua walked the rest of the way over and stopped a seemingly polite distance behind her mother’s shoulder, with hands clasped in front of her at her abdomen. A curtsy posture that seemed so demure that it could only be seen as *confrontational* given the circumstances. Especially when paired with her first words. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

"Always happy to show you that I can cause headaches larger than my lovely little sister, mother."

"Your mouth is still rather adept at forming excuses that justify your whims. I have no doubt if Qatrand did not exist, you would have turned into the most prolific confidence artist this continent has ever seen."

"Oh, mom. Who is to say I can’t have my Qat and swindle plenty of people, too?"

Unable to handle it any more, the Bloody Duelist finally turned around and her hands came up. One to cup the side of her daughter’s face, the other to smooth a few strands of brown hair that didn’t seem to want to stay down with the others... despite being brushed out before they left their little house. Fingers formed their familiar pressure on her cheek.

’A mother checking that her child is present and uninjured. My first would do it when I had long days away from home. But this one also has to check that I’m real. That I’m *here*.’

"Hmm."

That single, long hum from Yatrel made her eldest child lean the slightest bit into the hand on her cheek. While she had spent plenty of time as ’herself’ around this woman during her Exclave visit... El’s facade had also been worn so consistently during her early youth that it had some knock on effects. Part of her still warred with the lack of it as a buffer for affection that came from sources other than Qat.

It still left her not always knowing what to do with direct maternal touch when it came, especially after five millennia without it. This time, she knew the only good option was to let herself accept it. Even if it felt like a far sappier reunion than she’d allowed with her poor father.

"Dear, I’m truly glad you’re back. But please... go change into something more appropriate for dinner. Something that you haven’t worn for five years."

A small beat passed as she pulled her hands away and recovered from her sense of relief and let her inner self rise out of her pool of everlasting familial pride.

"And yes - I will be asking Qatrand if you really did or not. I fully trust her to tell me when you’re being disobedient."

"...If you insist."

Elua’s expression did not flicker despite such weaponized use of her ’fortress’ for verifications. The cook, who had meanwhile been politely pretending to be focused on his platter arrangement - despite wanting to say hello to the glutton he missed so dearly... made a small noise that was clearly a stifled laugh. He rapidly relocated himself to the far counter to give orders to another helper, for he knew there was a line between family and staff no matter how blurred it could be at the Goltbred estate.

’This moment is theirs alone, bystanders might be permitted but are wholly incidental!’

As mortals made emotional and political decisions for the pair of cultivators, Yatrel scooped her arm under the brunette’s side and pulled her into a one arm embrace. A return squeeze and a few pats later, the pair parted again with even looser smiling faces. The reincarnator chose to speak first. Not because she felt the moment of silence was uncomfortable, she simply wanted to fill it with something she didn’t get to say and *mean* a lot in her last life.

"I’m glad to see you again, too."

"Go, dear. You look like a woman who needs ten minutes to breathe, ones that don’t have anyone at all in them beyond yourself."

"That’s a very... specific look."

"Trust me, it’s one a mother knows better than most creatures. Dinner is almost ready, but we’re also in no rush. Take the time while changing. Welcome home."

Such a dismissal felt like being chastised by her mother as much as a gift to take a breather. From getting ready with the triplets this last month, opening the spatial gateway today, destroying a more physically palpable one hours earlier... to lovely private time with her husband-wife, talking to her dearest growing sister, and everyone else since arriving to this continent...

’Yeah. Maybe I do need a span of time alone. Just a little bit. Qat even scolded me earlier about trying to be too... compensating. I cannot recoup time, I can only steer the future. As always.’

Aiming for the rear entrance instead of back in the way she came, and on her steps past the cooling rack, her hand flicked out and closed around a piece of the spiced bread. A slap landed on the back of her wrist almost immediately, for a duelist had been waiting for it. The bread fell back to the table with a small, sad *plompf* sound that immediately reminded the brunette of her father’s use of noises to describe various cultivation feelings.

"...Like what it feels to have your physical energy depleted..."

"Honestly. If you couldn’t wait, you should at least ask."

Elua kept walking through the chiding without turning around. After all, the hand that had been struck had never existed. The bread that was to be stolen was already *several* paces ahead past the doorway with the real her. And most of all, the perfectly rendered illusion had only been set to exist for about ten seconds of mental trickery. Soon enough that would be noticed!

The service area she stood in while holding her theft in hand was fairly empty and a natural breeze moved through the rows of herbs that her mother had always insisted be kept fostered nearby for family use. Groundskeepers at this place had a lot to do, but while pretty floral sights and smells did add value to her family’s life... so did savory smells and tastes. Elua’s feet slunk along the stone walkway that made a perimeter around the main house, aiming for the space underneath her balcony.

She had grown up looking up at these walls both inside and out... but never quite the way other children might have looked at their houses. To her, who had lived so long, even estimating a couple decades of being in the same location and in the same building felt more like a stop along a journey than anything permanent. What’s more, despite being the first daughter and the heiress to their holdings... this Goltbred girl had never truly thought of her family’s things as eventually belonging to her explicitly.

This house was her mother’s and father’s, now her sister’s and whatever siblings may follow. Perhaps her children would find solace, love, and wonderful experiences here someday themselves... for the reincarnator knew a *portion* of her and her legacy belonged here. Yet, there was also a part of her that knew the location would never be hers in the same declarative way it counted inside most people.

Then again... most people, cultivator or not, would never just approach the wall of said house and *keep walking* at a diagonal angle along the surface without any apparent effort. Just a few initial awkward looking body bends, like a mortal might walk up a suddenly steep hill and reorient. Instead of like the vertical surface it definitely was.

Roof tiles eventually received her weight, after switching from Adhesion to Levitation for the last corrective bit to begin the ninety degree transition to standing upright. There she stood looking out across the Goltbred estate from a vantage point that had once required her to actively jump and pull herself up... as a petite brunette child that would have been scolded terribly if not for her illusions and general sneakiness.

Bread met her teeth and she chewed with much appreciation for the texture. The first bite was *good*, but the second gave more room for the spices to activate in her mouth. Blended mix of heat and flavor, baked goodness that brought a quiet tear to her eye. Wiping it on the back of her wrist, Elua knew it was a good thing she took it like she did. Now she hopefully wouldn’t look so silly as to be crying over her food in the middle of dinner.

Her gaze eventually rose back up and found her Growing Tree dwarfing the others nearby. Planted just after this body’s first birthday, in a spot her mother had chosen and her father had dug up. A sapling that had grown for seventeen years now, a quarter of that time without her around to see it. The trunk had thickened by her fair away estimate with her memory and the whole crown formed a canopy even thicker than the last time she had seen it.

’We’ve both been busy getting to our Prime, hm?’

Trees, much like beds and many other theoretically inanimate objects, didn’t tend to respond in obvious ways to voices or inner thoughts. This one had long been a quiet presence in her life that served as an interesting non-human companion that doubled as a good place to read and take naps. It did not require her to perform as the heiress or anything else in order to receive its attention.

Because the tree did not have attention to spare for little reborn fairies or fully grown ogres. Simply being and letting fauna, other flora, other funga *be* alongside it’s part in the cycle of life was more than enough for it. There was surely something to learn from that, even if the overall animus for being a plant didn’t correlate exactly with the rational mind of a cultivator.

Meanwhile, she had reincarnated... learned to be herself and taught others tricks to be themself. Constructed big and small wonders on the continent as well as in another technical world. Schemed for good and ill while *almost* entirely adhering to the former. Protected and fallen in love with another protector archetype - that she was confident like never before would be her last romantic experience.

"Well... whether it was nature, or whoever modified your properties, it made it harder for you to bloom. So you might only get one or two romances in your half-a-millennia lifetime yourself."

The active breeze moved through the upper branches of the tree, shifting leaves in a rolling pattern from one side of the crown to the other before it all rocked back again. It was the kind of movement that meant nothing at all, but Elua er Goltbred always willfully read it as a greeting. Simply because she had decided years ago, at the age of five, after Ondua suddenly said that was what it meant before hugging her tight and kissing her cheek... that it was fine to believe it.

Whether it were true or not.

Just like she’d willfully chosen to believe she actually meant it, *somewhere* inside, when she kissed her second father’s cheek back. And giggled under the effect of her facade that understood it was loved. Even while the ’real’ her lacked confidence that she loved back as genuinely as her persona.