Girl of Iron and Magic

13.

13.
10 YEARS BEFORE THE WAR

Under Mr. Henri Treebald's care, for the first time in her short life, Lotte felt herself growing.

Even so, there were some things she didn't really care for.

Like the dresses.

Lotte was outfitted with dozens of dresses, each one with more bows and frills than the next. Each dress came with a matching hat. She had hordes of gloves and stockings and petticoats and soft white undergarments. There was a precise and surgical order for everything to be put on.

Dressing every morning, then underdressing before bed was a horrendous chore.

Mr. Henri employed a trusted woman named Miss Yudo as Lotte's nanny. Her job mostly revolved around making sure Lotte looked to be a precise replica of one of those porcelain dolls she'd often seen in the windows of toy shops.

Miss Yudo was very clever with Lotte's hair, making sure it never slipped to reveal the points of her ears.

The effect this whole mess had on other people made Lotte uncomfortable.

Up until those days, she had spent her life carefully slipping away from people's notice. When it came to her artwork, praise and love from others made her heart swell with contentment. But when it came to herself, it made her skin crawl.

Anywhere she went, people would gawk and exclaim.

What a beautiful child, they would all say. She looks just like an angel.
If she showed them her teeth, if she removed her gloves and exposed the points of her nails that just couldn't be filed down anymore, if they saw her ears, or her blood, or saw the glow of her eyes in the dark, would they think her still beautiful?

Lotte knew the answer already.

Mr. Henri's wife, Sera Treebald, who had been so kind to her the first time they'd met, before she knew what Lotte was, now bristled every time they had to be in a room together.

Lotte's ears were very keen, so she'd heard Mrs. Treebald gossiping about her. She'd used that bad word—monster.

But these were small things. Insignificant bothers.

The dressing up, the prancing about 'society' was just a tiny portion of what was happening. Lotte could put up with it because there was something else, something spectacular, taking place.

It all happened in a magical room called The Studio where all she had to do was draw and paint.

When she painted, she could wear whatever she pleased. Lotte soon moved on from watercolours to more serious mediums. Mr. Henri was keen that she'd try something called 'acrylic', but Lotte just couldn't communicate with those. They were bright colours, highly saturated, in brilliant hues, but they just didn't have enough of a soul for Lotte.

So the next thing they tried were oils.

Lotte didn't care for their smell. They made her head spin. But there was nothing really wrong with a spinning head once she met paint with canvas.

She loved them. Even the preparation that went in ahead of drawing was a romantic ritual. There was something unrelenting about the practice. With water paint she'd skimmed only the surface of the lake of her desires.

But oil...oh, oil...it was uncompromising, demanding, compassionate. A vast land of exploration and discovery.
She'd started out small, making mistakes and learning from them. Even those drawing that were clearly, to Lotte's eyes, wrong, Mr. Henri adored.

"Everything you make is magnificent," he kept saying.
She shook her head insistently, but he went on and sold those painting anyway.

The city of Raidox was abuzz with little Poppin's spectacular paintings. Her photo was plastered on the front page of all the papers. MUTE OPHAN PRODIGY SURPASSES THE GREAT GAVALIER the headlines screamed. Art traders from all around the country scrambled to grab hold of her works. Even the Lord General himself came to greet her.