For William, there was at least one notable upside to living in this new world.
His younger sister.
He'd been an only child in his last life, and in many ways perhaps that had been for the best. But in this one, he found that the role of 'older brother' was one he quite rightly cherished.
Possibly because it's one of the few times I actually get to feel like the grown-ass man I am, he thought as he daintily sipped from his tea.
He watched from across the table as his much beloved sibling bit down on a small cake, before letting out a small hum of delight, her long elfin-ears fluttering slightly as she did so.
Amusingly, that motion alone marked her as half-elf. Full elves had slightly longer ears, but couldn't actually move them for whatever reason.
"You like it then, Olivia?" he chuckled.
The thirteen year old paused in her appreciation of his culinary masterwork, a small piece of icing marring her cheek as she recalled where she was and who was watching. Cheeks coloring slightly, she huffed as she once more resumed the 'regal' posture she'd held when he'd first been invited into her room.
Though, once more, it was only slightly marred by the dash of white icing smeared across her cheek. Chuckling, William ignored her mumbled complaints as he reached over with a napkin to wipe it away.
Kids who thought they were grown-ups were adorable.
As he sat back down in his seat, the blonde continued to glare at him for a moment longer before sighing. "Would it kill you to be this pleasant with mother? She would be delighted by these…"
"Cupcakes." He specified as she trailed off.
"Cupcakes," she murmured. "An apt name for a novel concept. Small individual iced cakes that are not too heavy for mid-morning brunch."
William just sat back with a smile as his younger sibling undoubtedly schemed on how best to unveil this latest culinary innovation at one of her tea parties. Apparently, it was a decent way for her to build up the prestige of her burgeoning court, but William was pretty sure she just liked to brag about her older brother.
As needlessly arrogant as that presumption was on his part.
Though to be fair, said emphasis on his cooking ability was likely just about the only positive thing his sibling could say about him. Well, that and the fact that she even had an older brother, given the relative rarity of men in this world.
Slowly, he reached over to pick up one of the cakes in question, the exterior still warm from the oven.
He'd hardly been much of a chef in last life, seeing food as more of a means to an end than anything else, but it was a skillset he'd been expected to cultivate in this one.
And he had. To great success.
Because even if he'd hardly held much interest in the concept back on Earth, he'd still been born in a time of plenty unlike any other time in human history. To that end, he held in his mind knowledge of meals and recipes from across the planet to pull upon.
Asian. European. African. Mexican. North American. Indian.
He knew he was quietly considered something of a culinary visionary in local circles, a fact his family likely would have been lauded across the land if his poor behaviour didn't so neatly overshadow it.
After all, he thought as he placed down his latest 'invention'. It's hard to brag to your neighbours about your prodigiously talented chef son when he insinuates that said neighbours should stick to the salad the moment he actually serves the food.
He did know it was one of his selling points regarding his betrothal. Indeed, his fiancée made a point of mentioning it in her semi-frequent letters to him.
…Not a single one of which he'd replied to.
Still, to give the girl credit, she hadn't stopped sending them.
He frowned at the thought as, naturally, he felt a bit guilty about that. Unfortunately, that was simply the way things had to be.
Yet another small sacrifice for the greater good, he thought.
"And I'm always perfectly pleasant," he said, finally answering his half-elven sibling's opening question.
"You're insufferable. I'm pretty sure you've nearly driven Aunt Sophina to drink."
He reclined in his seat dramatically. "Olivia, you wound me, casting such aspersions about your sweet older brother's character. Oh, woe is me, it seems my dearly beloved younger sister has finally entered her rebellious phase."
"Hardly," the girl in question scoffed. "You, brother, are quite rebellious enough for the both of us."
William just smiled in amusement. Amusement that only grew as he eyed the maid standing at the back of the room watching them interact with confusion.
There were good reasons indeed why it was assumed around the countship that his lapse into 'villainy' over the past few years was a direct result of his being passed over as heir due to his gender.
Worse yet, in the eyes of many, passed over in favour of a bastard.
Less amusingly, it was not lost on him that he was never allowed into Olivia's presence unaccompanied. Not when she'd been a babe. And not now, after thirteen years of nothing but brotherly affection.
There was always at least one maid or one of his aunts present.
And while the idea of a 'combat maid' had been a laughable prospect back in his own world, in this one, they were a deadly reality.
He often watched them train in the morning with the other guards. Indeed, the only real difference between them and the guards was that the maids were paid a bit more to act as servants as well as protectors.
It was a highly coveted post.
And the woman who was even now creasing her brows in confusion was certainly built for it.
Sure, they were called maids, but beyond the gender of that moniker and their role as servants, they had little in common outfit wise with the role they'd had on Earth.
The woman's clothing held more in common with a plain sleeveless cheongsam and pants with an apron across the front. All in gray. Indeed, the only consideration to color in the woman's outfit was the orange and purple headband that she wore to keep her hair out of her eyes.
He'd place her in her late twenties to early thirties. A dark, vaguely middle eastern, complexion that suggested South-Western ancestry. Well-muscled, yet with a little feminine softness. Dark brown hair tied back into a no-nonsense ponytail. A slightly regal bearing, enforced by the sword at her waist. And he had little doubt she had calluses on her fingers to match.
However, in the course of his observations he realized he'd missed whatever his sister had just said.
"Sorry?" he said, turning his gaze back to her.
"I said," Olivia enunciated with a put-upon sigh. "Would you please stop ogling the help? You're making them uncomfortable. She's new and hardly familiar with your… predilections."
Sure enough though, as he looked up, he saw that maid's face had turned a little red, even if she was quite admirably trying to hide it with a dutiful expression.
It said a lot about the world they lived in that a little lingering gaze had such an effect on the woman. Women as a whole generally weren't used to being 'ogled' by guys. Or complimented. Here it was the opposite that tended to be the case.
"Predilections. With a word like that, you'd think it was a bad thing," he hummed before inclining his head in the maid's direction. "Do you think appreciation for an attractive woman is a bad thing, Serrel?
He could see the surprise on the woman's face, not just at being addressed, but that he knew her name. She needn't be on the second account. He knew the names of all of his sister's guards – even those that had just been promoted to the post.
Though that knowledge was not unique just to his sister's maids. He made a point of learning as many of the staff's names as he could.
It cost him nothing, and always both surprised and pleased them that he knew their names. Indeed, he suspected that was just about the only thing that kept his reputation on a relatively even keel with the servants – given that the shit he stirred up with his shenanigans had an unfortunate tendency to roll down hill, despite his best efforts to the contrary.
"I… uh…" Ah, her voice was nice too. Strong and smoky, yet with a lyrical accented undertone.
Unable to help himself, he continued. "I must say, I know it's the same uniform everyone wears, but this one really brings out your eyes. Green is such a pretty color."
She was really flushed now, even as she desperately tried to hide it. "Ah, thank you, milord?"
Oh, this was fun. He opened his mouth just in time for his sister to swat him on the arm.
"Stop it," she huffed as she sat back down again. "Honestly, why can't you be this charming to girls your own age? I know you have a fiancée, but I'm sure she wouldn't begrudge you making a few 'friends' prior to your nuptials."
She gazed down at her tea. "I know for a fact that Katie still thinks you're cute despite your horrendous behaviour towards her last year."
He laughed, reaching up to ruffle his adorable sibling's hair. "Unfortunately for her, I have no interest in little girls."
"She's your age!" The half-elf squawked as she batted away his hand.
Hardly, he thought. I'm a grown man in a teenager's body. The very thought of laying a hand on someone 'my own age' is…
He shuddered.
Katie was a sweet girl. A nice girl. But she was just that. A girl. Even at eighteen, she was still just a 'girl'.
Even now, the idea that she has a crush on me is only marginally less horrifying than when she had a crush on me when we were both eleven, he thought.
It was small wonder he tended to push his 'peers' away.
To that end, he'd quickly discovered that he had a fairly specific type in the 'new world'.
Mature. Capable. Women.
Preferably older than thirty.
…Though ironically that still often left him feeling like he was going after 'younger women'.
He'd lived a full life after all. Even with the heart attack, he was chronologically something like ninety-six when he combined both lives.
"You're ogling her again."
He smiled at his sibling's dry remark. "Ah, my apologies, Serrel. As I said, you really do have lovely eyes. I keep finding myself lost in them."
And other features. Guard training did the most wonderful things to a woman's figure after all. Especially when combined with good food.
"Ah, that's, uh, fine… sir!" The woman said quickly.
Just as his sister was about to interrupt again, a loud knock came from the door.
"Ah, that's probably Aunt Karla," he said as he stood up. "As I understand it, she'll be my escort for this trip. Likely as punishment for 'allowing' me to steal a Shard from her airfield."
Still, he didn't miss the way some of the life seemed to leave his sister's eyes as he spoke.
Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry squirt, it's just four years. And I'll come back down for Winter-Fast."
It was rather telling that the half-elf didn't bat him away this time.
"Promise?" she asked in a remarkably small voice.
"Promise," he confirmed.
Straightening up, he turned and opened the door to the hallway, revealing Karla. There was a rather pronounced frown on the usually jovial fighter pilot's face.
"The ship will be ready to depart soon."
Which meant they wanted him aboard now. Sophina had made it clear that he was not to be let out of sight for a moment lest he try to pull an actual runner. Which was why there'd been two guards standing outside Olivia's room the entire time he'd been inside – and why Serrel had been standing near the window.