"Marcia, Matilda, Maria, Margreta, Maximiliana, Magdalena!" a high-pitched and whining voice echoed across the castle halls and it was followed by the sound of tiny feet pattering along as fast as they could. This was Mircalla Karnstein, youngest of the Karnstein clan. She was about six years old now and she was in the process of trying to find any of her six older sisters. It was her belief that one of them had taken her favorite china doll because the doll was no longer in her possession. It was not anywhere in her room therefore one of her sisters must have taken it. It wouldn't be the first time they had done such a thing to her. She continued to storm down the long and twisting halls of the castle, ignoring the cold chill of the stone on her bare feet.
"Marcia, Matilda, Maria, Margreta, Maximiliana, Magdalena!" she repeated angrily. Then at last, she found one of the six. She found the eldest of them all, Marcia Karnstein. She was currently engrossed in a book, curled up by a window of the castle's giant library.
"Marcia!" Mircalla whined as she entered the library, making a bee-line for Marcia.
"What?" Marcia asked, not looking up from her book.
"Did you take my doll?" Mircalla pouted, annoyed that her sister wasn't paying attention to her.
"What?" Marcia repeated, amusement in her low, rich voice. She finally turned from her novel to look at her youngest sister.
"My doll! I can't find her! Did you take her?" Mircalla pressed and when Marcia began to laugh, Mircalla's pout only deepened.
"Why would you think I have your doll?" the older girl asked.
"Because I can't find her anywhere!" Mircalla responded irritably.
"You know I'm too old for dolls!" Marcia cried back, exasperated amusement in her voice as she continued to stare down at Mircalla.
"Well then where's Maria? Maybe she'll know!" Mircalla's voice took a deadly edge as her temper shorted. That was a big mistake on her part.
The moment she dared allow such a threatening timbre to enter her voice, the fun and games ended. Suddenly, Marcia was no longer the amused big sister Mircalla knew. Instead, she became the fierce Karnstein that she was born to be.
"Mircalla Karnstein! You know better than to speak to me, your oldest sister, with such a disrespectful voice!" Marcia never raised her voice above a whisper, but her timbre was so threatening that she didn't need to and Mircalla wilted at once. "I am your superior and I expect to be treated as such. Am I understood?" she asked. Her eyes were as cold and hard as the stone wall behind her. Mircalla looked down in fear but said nothing. Marcia respond by leaning forward slowly away from the window sill and towards Mircalla.
"Understood!" Mircalla yelped, taking a step back as her fearful eyes finally met Marcia's.
"Good," Marcia looked at her little sister with languid and burning eyes, reclining back again. At the same time, her eyes softened marginally. "I bet at least one of our sisters should be in the castle kitchen," she offered, voice soft once again.
"Thanks," Mircalla responded nervously. Although she heard the tonal change in Marcia's voice and knew that this meant that her wrath had been diverted, she still wasn't ready to anger the girl any further. Marcia really could be quite scary when she wanted. She certainly made an excellent countess of Karnstein. Mircalla secretly hoped, however, that she would never turn out like that. Instead, she liked being the sweet, little, happy girl that the other Karnsteins knew her to be. So, with a quick bow to her elder sister, little Mircalla Karnstein fled the library hastily, leaving the elder Karnstein to smirk in amusement before returning to her book.
Mircalla ran towards the kitchens next, little feet echoing the halls. Servants watched her brush by with amusement. The sweet, little Mircalla was at it again, running the castle rampant with her crazy little adventures and antics. She was such a sanguine child!
At last, Mircalla was in the warm and billowing, bellowing room that was the kitchen. Her dark eyes darted eagerly around the room until she caught sight of two of her sisters, Maria and Magdalena.
"Did either of you take my doll?!" she snapped the moment they were in sight.
"Nope!" both of them respond cheerfully, though Maria's cheer was more spiteful. It was then at Mircalla noticed them doing something.
"What are you guys doing?" she asked, distracted briefly. Maria was groping at something from the cupboard they were standing at and Magdalena was innocently holding a basket for her to drop these mysterious objects in while taking other objects out.
"Maria is replacing the jam with paint!" Magdalena responded. "and I'm helping!" she added proudly.
"Shhh! Be quiet! Do you want us to be caught?!" Maria snapped at her, though she was also grinning proudly. Magdalena gave an innocent smile and put an obedient finger to her lips. Mircalla eyes the pair cautiously, but chose to shrug off her concern.
"Where is my doll?" she asked again, returning to her original subject.
"No idea," Maria responded carelessly, without looking over her shoulder.
"I didn't take it!" Magdalena agreed.
"Well then where is it?" Mircalla was getting frustrated now. Truth be told, she had a feeling that Maria was responsible. She was, after all, the most devious of the sisters. Magdalena was far more innocent and stupid. Even Mircalla looked down on her from time to time.
"Ask Margreta!" Maria grunted, finally turning around to glare at her youngest sister. Mircalla opened her mouth to say more, but she never got to.
"Hey! What are you girls doing?!" it was the cook. He had a name, but was known only by his title. He never got an answer from the girls, however, as all of them took off running in separate directions, with Maria taking the basket from Magdalena before fleeing.
Mircalla sighed unhappily. She knew Mama and Papa wouldn't be very happy later that night, but at least Maria and Magdalena would get in trouble. That would be fun to watch. Next, Mircalla decided to go to the stables. She knew her middle sister, Margreta, would be there. That girl loved to ride horses. Sure enough, Mircalla's guess-work was accurate. She exited the castle entirely and strode over to the stables where the sounds of swearing, neighing, and metallic clanking could be heard.
"Margreta?!" Mircalla cried out as she approached the massive old building.
"Mircalla? What are you doing out here?" Margreta asked, stepping away from one of the horses.
"Did you take my doll?" Mircalla replied.
"Your doll? No, what would I want with that old thing?" Margreta scoffed. Mircalla, yet again, gave a hearty pout.
"My doll isn't old! She's missing! I want her back!" Mircalla cried.
"Well, I don't have her," Margreta responded slowly, enunciating every word with a mocking voice.
"Fine then, I'll ask Mama and Papa!" Mircalla threatened.
"You go do that," Margreta sneered back, unafraid of Mircalla. She knew that Mircalla was just trying to assert her authority, but it was hard to take a chubby six year old serious. Mircalla gave a huff, knowing what her sister was thinking. She turned back to the castle with one final glare at Margreta and then didn't look back the whole rest of the walk inside. She entirely missed the affectionate smile Margreta gave her as she left.
Once back inside, Mircalla sighed.
"I have two more sisters to ask and I bet neither of them will be of any help either!" she said to herself. She turned out correct. The first of her remaining two sisters that she ran into was Maximiliana. The girl was playing with some of her own dolls, despite being a bit old for them.
"Maximiliana!" Mircalla snapped sharply.
"Huh?! Oh, what?!" Maximiliana jerked up, dropping the dolls. "I wasn't- Oh, Mircalla! It's just you!" relief was evident upon her face as she realized which of her sisters she was looking at.
"Yeah, it's just me!" the child snapped, a little hurt by this remark.
"I thought you were Maria," Maximiliana explained, unbothered by Mircalla's cruel tone. Mircalla's scowl softened just slightly when she heard this. It was true, Maria was the most vicious of the Karnsteins. She bullied and frightened all of the younger ones and even Mircalla knew that to be caught playing with dolls was to warrant some merciless teasing. Even Mircalla, young as she was, was not safe from such scorn. It was only natural for Maximiliana to initially be nervous. At least until she understood who she was dealing with.
"So, what did you want, sis?" Maximiliana asked. Mircalla was awoken from her bitter reveries about her third oldest sister.
"My doll," she demanded sharply. "I want my doll."
"I don't have it," Maximiliana responded. Mircalla narrowed her eyes. "Come and see!" Maximiliana promised, gesturing to the few toys around her. Mircalla hated to admit it, but Maximiliana was right. None of the dolls she was playing with was the one Mircalla was looking for.
"Ok," she pouted, lower lip out and arms crossed.
"Told you!" said Maximiliana, triumphantly. Mircalla huffed.
"I'm going to go find Matilda," she said. Maximiliana shrugged in reply and waved at Mircalla before returning to her own dolls, cooing at them and telling them that she would never lose them the way Mircalla lost hers. Mircalla grunted angrily when she heard Maximiliana say this, but she did not acknowledge it.
Instead, Mircalla exited that room and went to find her last sister, Matilda. The girl was still busy in the study. Marcia had finished her lessons in the morning but Matilda had not, hence why she was still working while Marcia had been in the library.
"What, Mircalla?" Matilda asked in annoyance as the youngest Karnstein flounced into the small room.
"Have you seen my doll?" the little girl asked.
"No," Matilda's voice was brisk and her eyes were glued to the book in front of her. She was trying to understand how all this worked! It was confusing but, if Marcia could do it, so could she! Mircalla, meanwhile, backed up. She still wanted to ask about her doll but she could sense that Matilda was in no mood for games. She carefully backed out of the study instead, grumbling all the while. Matilda didn't even hear it, too busy trying to learn everything she was supposed to.
This left Mircalla alone again.
"God curse this place!" she spat dejectedly, kicking a loose stone down the hallway. She had visited each of her sisters and not a single one knew where her doll might be. This was awful! How else was Mircalla supposed to finish up her little story without that china doll? The girl continued to huff and pout but being entirely alone meant that nobody heard her.
At last, however, her temper subsided. Perhaps she didn't have her doll, but there were others things she could amuse herself with in the meantime. She could read or write or draw or play puzzles or games that didn't involve dolls. Or she could go back to one of her sisters and join them in their adventures or she could play with some of the castle animals or the other staff, if they weren't too busy. In the end, Mircalla decided to draw and she ended up sketching pictures of the moon and the castle and of her family sleeping. Every face was drawn with care, eyes closed and faces entirely relaxed. Because the pictures were only pictures, none of the figures in them moved and it almost didn't look like they were dreaming. Instead, it looked like they were dead. She titled the picture "Nighttime in Karnstein" and finished just in time to be summoned for dinner where, once again, she and her sisters would be joined together. This time, their parents would be in attendance as well, their own daily duties done for the day.
In time, right before bed, Mircalla found her missing china doll. It was lying under the middle of her bed.
"How did it get there?" she asked, frowning, kneeling down and reaching under the bed to fetch it. She pulled it back out and brushed its face free of the thin layer of dust it had obtained while lying under that old bed for so long. It was totally find other than that and the little girl wondered if perhaps one of her sisters had put the doll there after all. It was something any of them would do. But of course, when Mircalla tried to ask the next morning, all she received were earnest denials and smug smiles.
