Ascendance of a Bookworm: Part 5 Volume 11 E-Book

Miya Kazuki

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Ascendance of a Bookworm
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 427

Beschreibung

Striving to change Yurgenschmidt for the better, Ferdinand starts a revolution that will abolish the distorted royal family and put a true Zent on the throne. Not everyone is on board, however, and as the Grutrissheit transference ceremony draws near, Rozemyne continues to wrestle with divine interference. Unease spreads, but not for our resident bookworm; the future she envisions is much too exciting. Operation Library City is just within reach!

The conclusion to Part 5 approaches in the newest volume of this biblio-fantasy. Features two original short stories and more four-panel manga by You Shiina.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover

Color Illustrations

Characters

Prologue

The Pale-Faced Royal Family

Terms for the New Zent

Goddess-Dyed Mana and Name-Swearing

Finalizing the New Zent

Rewards and the Criminals

Adolphine’s Push

Eglantine’s Name-Swearing

Blessings from the Gods

The Blessings’ Influence

Operation: Mana Drain

Gold Dust and Going Back

Expending Mana through Spring Prayer

Never-Ending Mana

Large-Scale Magic

Epilogue

The Transference Ceremony

Vows and the Garden of Beginnings

The New Aub’s Awesome Magic

Map of Ehrenfest Duchy

Map of Yurgenschmidt

Afterword

A Comfy Life with My Family by You Shiina

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

Landmarks

Color Images

Table of Contents

Prologue

The door to the Ehrenfest Dormitory’s meeting room opened, and the archducal family left one by one, having finished eating dinner and sharing their intelligence. Their retainers awaited them in the hallway outside, having taken their meals in the dining hall. It was time for the attendants who had served the archducal family during the meeting and the knights who had guarded them to eat.

“Ferdinand—you’re going back to the villa now, right? The fight is over; be sure to rest tonight instead of overdoing it again.”

“The same goes for you. Rest well tonight so you can memorize your lines and practice your whirling tomorrow.”

As Rozemyne and Ferdinand said their farewells, so did Charlotte and Florencia. The archducal couple would be returning to the castle.

“I shall entrust the dormitory’s arrangements to you, Charlotte. Contact us if you run into any trouble. We have ordered the scholars to immediately relay any messages sent from the dormitory.”

“Certainly, Mother. You may count on me. Sister, let us return to our rooms together.”

Charlotte and Rozemyne returned to the staircase in the entrance hall, the latter swathed in silver cloth and being carried by Angelica. Their retainers followed after them.

Ferdinand went in the same direction, intending to pass through the entrance hall to the central building, but his attendant Lasfam intervened. “Lord Ferdinand, could you spend the night here instead? I shall, um... take care of the cleanup tomorrow. So that I might return home.”

Lasfam had been summoned to the dormitory early in the morning and told to prepare a room for Ferdinand. But when the man in question had arrived, he had ordered that the preparations be undone and that Lasfam return home, as he planned to stay in the villa when he was not eating. One could understand the attendant wanting to serve his lord again—the two had been apart for well over a year—but he would never normally have acted on that desire. That he was questioning his orders implied an external influence, which made Ferdinand furrow his brow.

“Surely spending one night here would not pose any issues,” Justus interjected with a shrug. “If one wishes to trap the subordinates of the karfins, one must first give them an opening.”

Karfins were the animal used in Ahrensbach’s crest, and being their subordinates meant being loyal to the duchy’s previous archducal family. Ferdinand understood the importance of testing them—he had already set up a touchstone to see how they would act—but Justus’s intervention was far too purposeful. What exactly was he planning?

“Not to mention, it seems he has something he wishes to keep secret from his lady...” Justus said, pointing. Hartmut had fallen behind Rozemyne’s retinue and was looking in their direction.

“Ferdinand, if you want to converse in secret, then go to your room,” Sylvester said with a grin. “I asked Lasfam to prepare it for a reason.” He gave Ferdinand a slap on the shoulder, then said, “Don’t waste our goodwill, alright?”

Ferdinand swallowed the urge to say that an archduke should remain more on guard and draw firmer lines in the sand. He was no longer an Ehrenfest noble; he had already left to perform administrative work in another duchy. On the one hand, he wished that Sylvester would acknowledge those facts and treat him as he should any outsider... but on the other, he was pleased—touched, even—that his elder brother still trusted him enough to treat him as a compatriot.

“Very well...” Ferdinand replied at length. “But only to hear whatever Hartmut has to say.”

He glared at all those present, then climbed the dormitory’s stairs instead of returning to the villa. The second-floor hallway was lined with rooms for men. There were shared rooms for laynobles and mednobles at the north end, and chambers for the archducal family and their retainers at the south. The southeast room was the largest and meant for the archduke, while the one beside it was meant for the heir apparent.

Ever since his time at the Royal Academy, Ferdinand had stayed in the southwest room opposite the archduke’s. That same room had been prepared for him again. He went inside and found it comfortably warm; the fireplace was lit, and firewood crackled within. Lasfam would never have done something so wasteful when Ferdinand did not intend to stay the night. Justus was evidently determined that his lord not return to the villa.

Ferdinand glared at his impudent retainer, who merely shrugged and smiled in response.

Good grief...

“Lasfam, if you would prepare some tea,” Justus said. “Eckhart and I shall eat in the retainer room.”

“Certainly.”

Hartmut gazed curiously around the room while the eager attendant happily started serving his lord. He could not enter Rozemyne’s chambers on the third floor, so he had probably spent a lot of time wondering what it was like inside.

“Sit,” Ferdinand said.

Hartmut did as instructed, and Lasfam poured them both some tea. Ferdinand took a sip and immediately felt the tension drain from his shoulders.

“Now then,” he continued, “what do you wish to discuss?”

“Lady Rozemyne’s attendants. It was said that they need only a bell to get ready, but could their transfer be delayed until tomorrow? Thanks to the materials Rihyarda and the others have prepared, Lady Rozemyne will not be inconvenienced even if she needs to wait for her attendants to return. Moving at night is dangerous.”

“It will not be easy to move them at this time, but the sooner it is done, the better,” Ferdinand replied, tapping his temple. “Rozemyne’s attendants are not trained in combat; leaving them in Ahrensbach is more dangerous than the alternative. You understand that, surely.”

According to a report, nobles in Ahrensbach’s castle were attempting to take Rozemyne’s attendants hostage as leverage. They were part of the faction supporting Detlinde, to no one’s surprise. Ferdinand intended to observe them and those who worked to suppress them before deciding how to treat Ahrensbach’s nobles moving forward, but there was a problem—if any harm came to Rozemyne’s retainers in the process, she would go berserk and make things drastically more troublesome for everyone. That was why Ferdinand wanted to extract her retainers from the castle posthaste.

Hartmut shook his head. “Lady Letizia and her retainers are keeping them safe in the northern building. Surely it must be safer for them to spend the rest of the night there. Even if guards are assigned to help with their move, the knights who stayed in Ahrensbach’s castle can hardly be trusted. Attempting to mobilize them sounds far too risky.”

Before heading to the Royal Academy to capture Detlinde, Ferdinand had rid his group of her allies and those reluctant to obey his orders. Such undesirables had been told to stay in Ahrensbach’s castle, hence Hartmut’s concern that the knights stationed there could not be trusted. Hartmut had also questioned the prisoners in the Adalgisa villa, which must have contributed to his concern.

“Cornelius and I will travel to Ahrensbach tomorrow to fetch our things,” Hartmut continued. “We can escort the attendants on our way back.”

“Do as you please, then.”

Ferdinand saw no reason to drag the matter out any further; he was busy enough preparing for the upcoming meeting with the royal family and the ceremony that would succeed it. He was being considerate only because he did not want Rozemyne to become emotional. Her retainers would solve their problems on their own.

“Care to tell me the true reason you are here?” Ferdinand asked. “I doubt that was your main concern.”

“It was of equal importance, considering how deeply Lady Rozemyne cares about her retainers,” Hartmut said with a wry smile. He sipped his tea and exhaled. Then he retrieved some fey paper from the folds of his clothes and cast stylo to create a pen. “I wish to know more about passing on the Grutrissheit. I checked the Sovereign temple’s records with that priest, Curtiss, but found nothing of relevance. There were records about the Zent’s coronation ceremonies, but not a single mention of a divine avatar performing a dedication whirl to grant a new Zent the Grutrissheit.”

“As expected. Only once in Yurgenschmidt’s long history has the royal family lost the Grutrissheit, and there is no precedent for a divine avatar granting them one anew.” Becoming the Zent had originally required candidates to obtain the Book of Mestionora through their own power, and those who wished to take the throne had competed to see who could fill their Book with the most knowledge. A religious ceremony wherein a divine avatar simply bestowed the Grutrissheit upon someone defeated the whole purpose of the crown.

“In that case, what manner of ceremony are you envisioning? I was told you want Lady Rozemyne to whirl, but what will the ceremony entail and what will it hope to achieve?”

Ferdinand nodded, satisfied that Hartmut was simply embracing the artificial nature of the ceremony. “Upon her entrance, Rozemyne shall whirl to make the Zent selection circle shine and open the path to the Garden of Beginnings. She will go there, return, and grant the Grutrissheit to the new Zent as the Divine Avatar of Mestionora. The ceremony will conclude with the new Zent displaying the Grutrissheit to those present, mirroring the coronation ceremony in its details. I intend to convey all this precisely following our meeting with the royal family.”

The precise details of the ceremony could not yet be finalized; they would probably change based on who was chosen to become the new Zent. Ferdinand considered the potential candidates and sighed, worrying that things might not go as he expected. Then he shook his head and reassured himself that they would. Never again would the royal family treat him, Rozemyne, or Ehrenfest as their pawns.

Hartmut was busy writing everything down when his eyes suddenly narrowed. “It might be confusing from a historical perspective if we call this a coronation ceremony. It is unprecedented and unlikely to be performed again, so perhaps we should instead go with ‘the gifting ceremony’ or something similar to distinguish it from traditional coronations.”

Ferdinand nodded. It was an astute observation—exactly what one would expect of someone who had just recently scoured the Sovereign temple’s records. He decided that calling it the “transference ceremony” would do. The name meant painfully little to him.

“The objective of this ceremony is to fully activate the selection magic circle and revive the old process of choosing true Zents,” Ferdinand said. “We should also clear up the misconception that Detlinde managed to activate the circle. It pulsed and nothing more, meaning she failed. Yet some nobles still seem to consider her a proper Zent candidate.”

Those of lesser and middle duchies had few opportunities to associate with Detlinde and see her foolishness for themselves. They were also unable to argue against a greater duchy such as Ahrensbach or the Sovereign temple. Their misunderstandings would need to be corrected.

“Furthermore,” he continued, “I wish to burn into the minds of other nobles Rozemyne’s divinity and abnormality. You will need to create an extreme environment to make them accept this unprecedented case of an underage woman becoming aub.” He omitted the fact that he was drawing attention to Rozemyne’s divinity to hide that the Grutrissheit the new Zent would receive was merely a magic tool.

“I understand your goals and fervently agree with them,” Hartmut said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I shall arrange a performance that leaves no doubt that Lady Rozemyne is a flawless divine avatar.”

Ferdinand gave his temple a few contemplative taps. Hartmut’s intensity was a little concerning, but overseeing his management of the ceremony would take too long. He could only hope for the best.

If Rozemyne finds it intolerable, she can intervene. She has Hartmut’s name for a reason.

With that settled, Ferdinand gave only a brief word of warning before completely erasing the preparations for the transference ceremony from his mind: “Take care not to overdo it. If your lady rejects the ritual, we will all pay the price. Is that all you wished to discuss?”

“Must you be in such a hurry?”

“Fine. Lasfam, if you would refresh our tea.”

Ferdinand would need to stay if they had other things to discuss. He requested more tea as Eckhart and Justus came in from the retainer room, having briskly finished their meal. They took the usual posts for scholars and guard knights.

“So, what were you discussing?” Justus asked.

“Nothing important,” Ferdinand replied. “Hartmut inquired about Rozemyne’s retainers in the castle and about the transference ceremony. You can ask Lasfam for the details later, if you so wish.”

“‘Nothing important’?” Hartmut frowned. “I don’t agree in the slightest.”

“Important or not, I doubt they were enough to warrant leaving Rozemyne’s side and coming here to my room. Say what you came here to say.”

The casual grin vanished from Hartmut’s face. He stared at Ferdinand, the serious glint in his orange eyes a declaration that he would not be deceived. The sight made Ferdinand smile a little; in the year and a half since his departure for Ahrensbach, Hartmut had grown considerably.

“Very well,” Hartmut said. “I wish to know precisely what impact the goddess’s descent had on Lady Rozemyne.”

“Did something happen?” Ferdinand asked.

“She has returned to her previous comfort level with her retainers. Leonore also informed me that she asked to use her highbeast rather than travel by foot.”

Ferdinand’s brow twitched, but he said nothing and signaled for Hartmut to continue.

“Lady Rozemyne proposed it as though it were obvious. Leonore said it was like she had forgotten all about her feystone phobia.”

“It is as I expected, then...” Rozemyne’s fear had persisted even in the thick of a dangerous battle; it was only natural that her retainers would notice something was wrong.

“So you are aware of her circumstances. In that case, I must ask that you tell me what happened.”

Ferdinand nodded. To explain the impact on Rozemyne’s mind, he thought back to his encounter with Mestionora in the Garden of Beginnings.

The Goddess of Wisdom had descended into Rozemyne, given Erwaermen a portion of her “heavenly power,” and then decided several matters pertaining to the selection of the next Zent.

“My work here is done, so I shall take my leave,” she said. “Call out to Myne if you want her to return.”

Took you long enough.

Ferdinand took great care not to speak the words that came to mind. Mestionora had seemed so disinterested in returning to the realm of the gods that he had feared Rozemyne would remain trapped there forever. He was relieved to hear that they could summon her back, but only for a moment; when she gazed upon Ferdinand, the corners of the goddess’s lips curved into an amused grin.

Sensing the malice in Mestionora’s eyes, Ferdinand tensed up. He was aware of just how much he had done to cross her.

If the myths passed down in Yurgenschmidt were true, then Mestionora owed everything to Erwaermen. He saved her mother and her subordinates from the clutches of her father, Ewigeliebe. How could she feel anything but disdain toward someone like Ferdinand, who improperly barged into the Garden of Beginnings, received the Book of Mestionora, and then refused to dye the country’s foundation? Yurgenschmidt’s collapse from a lack of mana would cause Erwaermen to disappear with it, but even as time ran out, Ferdinand refused to dispatch Rozemyne and continually obstructed Gervasio.

“I would advise that Terza call out to Myne,” Mestionora said. “Quinta’s voice might not reach her anymore.”

Ferdinand could endure the goddess’s light Crushing... but he could not stand the thought that her malice was being unjustly taken out on Rozemyne. As much as Mestionora claimed that Rozemyne had asked for her help to soothe Erwaermen’s wrath, Ferdinand found it deeply suspicious. Rozemyne had expelled her mana to avoid it saturating her body. That was it. She had not prayed, nor had she cast a spell or drawn a magic circle. Mestionora had descended of her own free will; one needed only see how she gazed upon Erwaermen to realize her feelings for him.

I suspect she was desperate to descend upon the mortal realm, and Rozemyne served as a convenient excuse.

That said, it was also easy to imagine Rozemyne taking Mestionora’s bait and giving up her body without a second thought.

Fool. Do not make promises without thinking them through!

Ferdinand balled his hands into fists, considering what Mestionora had meant when she had said that his voice might not reach Rozemyne. He recalled the price others had paid for calling upon the gods and inhaled sharply.

“What have you done to her?!”

Mestionora, who was still sitting on Erwaermen’s shoulder, looked down at him quizzically. She had the same face as Rozemyne, but the way she acted made her seem like someone else entirely.

“I played with her mind to make her body easier to control, severing her connection to memories more important to her than her love of books. She was so overjoyed to be in my library that I might not have needed to, but”—Mestionora saw Ferdinand grimace and chuckled—“she did ask a goddess for help. Something of this nature cannot come without sacrifice.”

Well... this could have gone worse.

Had the goddess tampered with anyone else, they might have forgotten everything. Rozemyne, however, had an almost unbelievable obsession with books; there were few things she cared about more than reading. Ferdinand suspected she would return with her memory essentially untouched.

Mestionora concluded, “The voice of someone she has forgotten is unlikely to reach her in my library.”

Is that to say she acted deliberately to sever Rozemyne’s memories of me?

Mestionora must have truly loathed Ferdinand. At least Rozemyne prayed on a regular basis and Gervasio was dedicated to becoming the Zent. Even so, Ferdinand resented that Rozemyne was being wrapped up in the goddess’s petty revenge.

“Is there a way to repair memories that have been severed...?” he asked.

“If someone she has forgotten channels mana into her, her memories of them will return. Not that I think she would allow it. How would she react to someone she cannot even remember forcing his mana into her? You believe in the importance of permission, do you not?”

Ferdinand tapped his temple. The goddess was snidely alluding to his protest when she had moved to grant Erwaermen her heavenly power.

“Do you really think Myne will trust a stranger?” Mestionora sneered. “What if she declines to remember you? Will you force your mana into her? Or will you attempt to convey the severed memories while pleading with her to accept it? Surely you would not be so brutish as to channel your mana into her without permission.”

Is this the worst she can do? The most her malice can muster?

In truth, such threats were barely worth considering. Ferdinand had already used a synchronization potion and some liquid mana to dye Rozemyne without explaining anything to her; to restore her memories, he would not hesitate to channel mana into her without permission. If she called him a brute for it, so be it. He did not care. His only focus was gathering intelligence.

“Is there a way to restore someone’s memories without channeling mana into them?” Ferdinand asked.

“Goodness! Do you think I would tell you?”

Hah. So there is.

Otherwise, Mestionora would have been quick to thrust her victory in his face. Ferdinand tried to recall any methods for countering the curses and tricks of the divine, and the stern expression this produced seemed to satisfy the goddess.

“Quinta... would you rather she remembers you or has forgotten you?” she asked with a venomous smile before finally returning to the world of the gods. Rozemyne’s body slowly came down from Erwaermen’s shoulder.

“Rozemyne!” Ferdinand exclaimed. He rushed over to embrace her, then grimaced; she had been completely dyed. Worse still, she was radiating divine mana—human mana containing divine power—that seemed to reject the touch of all others. Mestionora was gone, but it felt like Rozemyne had yet to return.

“Rozemyne, can you hear me?” he called, his frustration growing. There was no response.

If the goddess had told the truth, then Ferdinand could be sure that Rozemyne no longer remembered him. He took her hand and tried to channel mana into her, but it was pushed back. Not long ago, a synchronization potion and some liquid mana had been enough to dye her completely. Now, the goddess’s descent had made his mana more like a foreign element that needed to be guarded against.

Despicable...

Re-dyeing her mana would have been trivial with the aid of another synchronization potion, but Ferdinand had not thought to bring one; they served no purpose in battle. Angry at both Mestionora for creating the predicament and Rozemyne for carelessly surrendering her body to a goddess, he gripped his schtappe and increased the force behind his mana.

“Rozemyne, come back already...”

Ferdinand noticed the faint sensation of their mana connecting. It steadily expanded as he poured more mana into her. But even then, Rozemyne did not respond.

Will this connection really bring back her memories? Could it be that Mestionora wants to keep her in the world of the gods?

Harrowing thoughts swirled through his mind. He tried to remember some other way to make Rozemyne’s mana easier to dye, at which point he heard Erwaermen respond to Gervasio.

“Mestionora wanted all three of you to compete. The will of a goddess is best followed, so let us wait and see whether Quinta gets through to her.”

The gods did not lie; they focused only on the promises made between them and mankind. History had proven that time and time again. Even the malicious goddess would uphold her end of the bargain.

In which case, I can only keep calling out to Rozemyne while channeling my mana into her.

Ferdinand was steeling his resolve when he suddenly remembered something crucial: Rozemyne was in the goddess’s library, unable to think about anything more important than reading.

Do not tell me she is simply too focused on her books—that she is too distracted to hear my calls whether she remembers me or not.

Ferdinand could not tell whether her silence was due to severed memories or because she was just too busy reading. And in the goddess’s library, there was no one to grab her by the shoulders or close her book. It seemed more and more likely that Rozemyne would not be able to return at all.

At once, Ferdinand put even more force into his mana, completely overpowering the rebound.

“Rozemyne! Rozemyne...!”

“Eep! Wh-What’s going on?!” she suddenly exclaimed, her goofy tone making it exceptionally clear that she had simply been too focused on reading to hear anyone.

Ferdinand was more angry than relieved. “So you finally heard me... Get back here. Now. If you linger, all that you care about will disappear.”

“Eep! O goddess, return my body to me! Ferdinand sounds angry!”

Rozemyne’s startled cry echoed through his head, but he did not hear Mestionora’s response. Instead, everything went quiet.

Ferdinand continued to channel mana into Rozemyne, unable to relax until she woke up. Or, to be more precise, until she behaved in a way that distinguished her as Rozemyne, not Mestionora.

The more I think about it, the more it irritates me.

Still, Ferdinand would gain nothing from getting annoyed at Mestionora for descending upon the mortal world and doing as she pleased or at Rozemyne for failing to understand the enormity of their situation. Unfortunate though it was, they were already involved with the gods.

Ferdinand put his memories of the recent catastrophe aside and met Hartmut’s gaze. The scholar was still patiently awaiting an answer.

“I shall not say too much about the goddess,” Ferdinand said. “There is extremely little that can be shared with someone incapable of visiting the Garden of Beginnings.” Saying too much would reveal sensitive context to the warring between Zents, and it was bothersome just imagining how Hartmut would react to Mestionora using Rozemyne’s body as she pleased.

“I must know whether Lady Rozemyne’s memory is intact,” Hartmut stressed. “We cannot risk burdening our lady through ignorance. I wish to hear as much as you can tell me.”

Back when Rozemyne’s feystone phobia first developed, not even she had noticed it. Hartmut and Lieseleta had sensed that something was amiss but lacked the time to investigate, which had resulted in their failure to react properly when their lady attempted to escape the postbattle celebration. They had chastised her, and she had seemed uncharacteristically tense around her retainers ever since. She would momentarily freeze whenever they called or take a cautious step back when they approached—minor details that did not impact her daily life but still stood out to Hartmut and Lieseleta. They deeply regretted not noticing her confusion in full or acting upon it.

“I understand how you feel...” Ferdinand replied. “In truth, not even I have a complete grasp on the situation.”

Despite having followed the goddess’s instructions and channeled mana into Rozemyne, Ferdinand could not tell whether he had restored all of her memories of him. He had participated in the battle that had brought about her fear of feystones, but now that fear was gone. Would it remain that way until she received the mana of the person most responsible? What if that person was deceased? How would manaless commoners return Rozemyne’s memories of them? Mestionora’s reaction had implied there were other means of restoring a person’s severed memories, but what were they? Would completely re-dyeing Rozemyne’s mana and returning it to its original form cause her memories to return as well...?

“Is there anything you can tell me?” Hartmut pressed. “Even just words of warning about how to interact with her going forward.”

Ferdinand tapped his temple in thought. He would need to discuss the matter whether Rozemyne found out about it or not. If nothing else, it seemed reasonable to reveal as much as he would otherwise have shared with her.

“The following information cannot leave Rozemyne’s retainers,” Ferdinand said. He explained that Mestionora had taken Rozemyne’s memories as “payment” for her services, abruptly severing every memory with a greater hold on the rampaging bookworm than her love of reading. “The goddess refused to elaborate, but if Rozemyne has forgotten memories related to her feystone phobia, we can assume that bad thoughts were taken as well as good. I do not imagine there are many things she would prioritize over reading. At the very least, she does not seem to have forgotten her retainers or the archducal family.”

“She ranks me lower than books, then...” Hartmut muttered, dejected. Then he looked up with a start. “Did she not lose her memories of you either?”

“You should already know the answer. There was no dissonance during tea or dinner.”

Indeed, everyone who had attended the gatherings could attest to that fact. As long as Ferdinand did not admit to having channeled mana into Rozemyne without her permission, no one would ever need to know.

“This is but a theory of mine, but I suspect that most of the memories Rozemyne cared about more than reading books had to do with making them,” Ferdinand said. “I am more curious to see what she remembers of the lower-city commoners and those of the temple workshop. As for her other missing memories, who knows? We cannot begin to fathom what might have vanished from her subconscious when not even she remembers anymore.”

Hartmut nodded in agreement. He was one of only two of Rozemyne’s retainers who knew their lady had a family in the lower city. “You seem calm, Lord Ferdinand; do you know of a way to restore her memories?”

“I intend to try a variety of approaches based on history and myths, but I can make no guarantees. As it stands, I am also short on time. It will need to wait until the transference ceremony is complete.”

“Can we trust her to participate in the ceremony and the discussion with the royal family while suffering from memory loss?”

“She still remembers the archducal family and her closest retainers; do you really think she would have forgotten the royal family or nobles of other duchies?”

“On second thought, I anticipate no problems whatsoever.” Everyone present agreed that Rozemyne was unlikely to value the royal family or Dunkelfelger’s archducal couple over reading.

“Rozemyne now has goddess-dyed mana,” Ferdinand said. “It should be remarkably easy to show the royal family we are above them and to have the nobles of other duchies accept the new Zent and the unprecedented case of an underage woman becoming aub. I intend to exploit this opportunity for as much as it is worth.”

“Still, this is quite the predicament. On the one hand, I wish to immediately restore all that Lady Rozemyne has lost... But on the other, I want to thrust her overflowing divinity in the face of every noble in Yurgenschmidt...”

Hartmut cradled his head and started agonizing, but Ferdinand did not care. He promptly moved on to the next topic.

“I forbid any of you from telling Rozemyne she has lost her memories. I cannot imagine what might happen if she loses control of her emotions while infused with divine mana.”

As it stood, simply being in Rozemyne’s presence was enough to compel most people to kneel in awe. If her emotions rampaged and that divine power ran rampant, no one in the world would be able to stop her.

“I expect silver cloth to be essential during our discussion with royalty. We will not cover her to begin with, but the royals are very likely to offend her, no?”

“Lord Ferdinand, do you consider it wise for her to Crush the royal family with her divine mana at least once...?”

“No, but I take it you do.”

Hartmut smiled evasively, but Ferdinand already knew the scholar had behaved disrespectfully around the royals at the Academy.

“Lord Ferdinand,” Hartmut continued, “if there is a risk of her goddess-dyed mana going berserk, it might be best to make arrangements for her name-sworn to enter in the case of an emergency.”

“Her name-sworn? For what purpose?” Ferdinand asked. He glanced at Justus, but the retainer’s look of curiosity showed that not even he knew what Hartmut meant.

“You observed that even archnobles such as Brunhilde and Rihyarda could not help but tremble when touching Lady Rozemyne, correct? Well, although we name-sworn feel the same sense of awe, we experience no such physical symptoms, perhaps because we are already enveloped in her mana. Laurenz and Matthias confirmed they were also unaffected.”

The smaller one’s capacity, the less one could resist goddess-dyed mana. Thus, while archnobles could not touch Rozemyne without starting to tremble, laynobles could not get near her at all. Hartmut proudly declared that he and other name-sworn retainers were completely immune to this.

“I see. Very well, then. I shall ask Sylvester to arrange a nearby waiting room to be used during the meeting.”

“I thank you.”

Hartmut then departed, leaving the room in silence broken only by the sounds of Lasfam clearing away dishes and the crackling of the fire. Ferdinand rapped a finger against his armrest; he always tapped when he was lost in thought.

Justus waited patiently for the drumming to stop. “Well, Lord Ferdinand... what shall we do?”

Ferdinand looked over his three retainers: Justus, who was awaiting an answer; Eckhart, who was standing as a guard; and Lasfam, who was still clearing away dishes. They had all given their names to him and were thus the most influenced by his decisions.

“Some decisions will change drastically depending on what the obstruction of touch demands,” he eventually said. “Speak not out of loyalty—are you ready for whatever might come?”

“We do as our lord wills.”

Ferdinand reached into his pocket and touched his name-stone, the one Rozemyne had returned to him.

The Pale-Faced Royal Family

An ordonnanz shot into and circled the room before landing on Rihyarda’s arm. “This is Leonore. We have arrived at the Adalgisa villa and will soon return to you. The knights here have agreed to help carry our luggage to the dormitory.”

Thanks to Ferdinand, the villa’s teleportation circle was active again, allowing transportation between Ahrensbach and the Royal Academy. Leonore, Cornelius, Hartmut, and Clarissa had just come back from retrieving their belongings. They had picked up Lieseleta and Gretia at the same time.

“She wants us to welcome the knights when they arrive,” Rihyarda said, “which should be soon if they use the teleportation door. I must go instruct the servants who will receive their luggage. Brunhilde, Ottilie, see milady cleaned up and escorted to the front entrance.”

Rihyarda then departed, leaving me with Brunhilde and Ottilie. They made sure my hair and dress were in order while Bertilde brought over some silver cloth, which was placed gently over my head.

“Damuel, this is Judithe. We are escorting Lady Rozemyne to the entrance hall. Be ready to guard her.”

Another ordonnanz. That meant Damuel would be waiting by the stairs on the second floor. Angelica picked me up and carried me, as she had so many times lately.

“Are you all going to switch places with Leonore and the others to pick up your luggage?” I asked.

Angelica sighed. “I insisted on wearing the same clothes—not that I wouldn’t wash them—but Laurenz told me no. It’s so sad. Lord Eckhart said we should be on guard at all times following the war...” Her tone was melancholic, but no ordinary noblewoman would use the recent conflict as an excuse to stop changing her clothes. Laurenz was right to shut her down.

“Ahaha. I doubt Eckhart meant you should wear the same clothes or keep your armor on at all times. Is he not going to retrieve his own belongings?”

“Now that you mention it... he did return to Ahrensbach.”

We arrived at the entrance hall. The door was wide open, and my retainers were entering with those carrying their luggage. I asked Angelica to set me down, then addressed the Ahrensbach knights.

“Everyone, I thank you for your help. Consider it greatly appreciated. I was told you plan to take turns going home. Please rest when you can and keep a close eye on Lady Letizia.”

Because of the Lanzenavians’ attack, the nobles still in Ahrensbach’s castle were largely Detlinde’s allies rather than Letizia’s. Detlinde’s group had since been imprisoned, but it wouldn’t be strange if those on her side used this opportunity to start something.

“Worry not, Lady Rozemyne—Lady Letizia is doing fine,” Lieseleta assured me. “She was overjoyed to hear that the fighting at the Royal Academy was over and that you and Lord Ferdinand were safe. Isn’t that right, Gretia?”

“It is,” Gretia replied with a nod. “She treated us very well.”

Upon returning to my chambers, Lieseleta and Gretia once again rejoiced that the battle was over and everyone was safe, then reacted with shock when my silver cloth was removed. The dormitory had returned to normalcy.

In the meantime, I practiced dedication whirling in my room.

This sure is tough...

I was used to my new body when it came to moving normally, but whirling was something else entirely. Maybe because of my longer legs or extra weight, my intuition for maintaining my center of gravity had completely evaporated. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to whirl smoothly enough to earn a passing mark from Ferdinand.

I don’t even know when this new coronation ceremony is being held. Am I going to be ready in time...?

Despite my worries, I continued to whirl. I was also memorizing the script for our meeting with the royal family in preparation for when the day finally arrived.

“Lady Rozemyne, we just received new clothes from the Gilberta Company!” Brunhilde announced. “How wonderful that they came in time!”

It was the morning of our meeting. The clothes were made of thin Ahrensbach cloth given to me by Ferdinand and dyed using methods that were popular in Ehrenfest. They came with a matching hairpin, exactly as ordered.

“The thin cloth was such a splendid choice,” Brunhilde said. “It lets just enough light through. And the hairpin Tuuli made looks as gorgeous as always.”

“Indeed... It really is a wonderful combination,” I replied with a nod and smile. But on the inside, I was panicking.

Tuuli... Is that my hairpin craftsperson?

The name had completely slipped my mind. I must have met them in person when placing my order, but I drew a blank every time I tried to remember their face.

Why can’t I remember...?

They had to be a hairpin craftsperson working for the Gilberta Company. I could picture Corinna and her seamstresses without any trouble at all, so why not this other person she must have brought with her?

What else have I forgotten? Are the memories important, or do they not matter?

As I racked my brain, I suddenly remembered Ferdinand asking me about my memories when I woke up in the Garden of Beginnings. He had said something about Mestionora warping my mind while possessing me.

Could this be the cost of giving one’s body to a goddess?

A chill ran down my spine. My stomach hurt like it was being squeezed. My memories had vanished in such an unnatural way—I didn’t know what I’d forgotten or how to remember it. The very thought was terrifying.

Calm down. You don’t need to worry. There’s bound to be a way to get your memories back.

My thoughts had been a little scrambled at first, but I’d quickly remembered the events that had preceded my encounter with the goddess. Maybe it was optimistic of me to assume, but my missing memories were bound to be knocking around somewhere. I was sure I would remember them soon enough.

For now, though, I still didn’t know anything about this Tuuli person.

“Lord Ferdinand has arrived at the tea party room,” Rihyarda informed me. “He wishes to speak with you before the meeting.”

Ferdinand was the one person with whom I could discuss matters relating to the goddess. I went to approach the door, but Angelica used silver cloth to snatch me up once again.

“Angelica, be more careful with Lady Rozemyne,” Clarissa said. “You are treating her as you would a piece of luggage. Be honored that you have the opportunity to carry a divine avatar and make sure each of your movements exudes graceful delicacy.”

“Right. I will next time.”

It certainly was true that Angelica kept getting rougher with me, but I was much too worried about my memory to care. She could treat me however she pleased as long as she got me to my destination quickly.

Attendants were going in and out of the tea party room in preparation for our lunch meeting with the royal family. Meanwhile, the archducal couple was reviewing everything to make sure there weren’t any issues. There was a space in the corner of the room for the retainers of guests to take turns resting, and when we arrived, I saw Ferdinand there with a sound-blocker already activated. I took the seat opposite him, then waited as our attendants made us some tea and took their leave.

“Rozemyne, did you memorize the sheets I gave you?” Ferdinand asked.

“Yes, but there is something more important I wish to discuss. Some of my memories are missing. For example...” I reached up and touched my hair. “I can’t remember the face of the craftsperson who made this hairpin.”

I expected a strong response, but Ferdinand just nodded. “So I would imagine. You cannot even remember the dyer who colored those clothes, can you? You made them your Renaissance. I suspect your memories of them have been severed.”

“Dyer? Renaissance?”

Once again, I desperately racked my brain. “Renaissance” stood out to me—it was the title given to those who joined the archducal family’s personnel to spread the new dyeing method, which had been used on the skirt I was wearing. I gazed down and touched the cloth. I’d asked for the method to be used in the first place, so I must have had a dyer in my employ... but I couldn’t remember their face or name.

“Nothing is coming to me...” I muttered. “Ferdinand, what do you know about all this? You said the memories were severed, not gone. Did the goddess tell you something? I must know.”

I rose to my feet, but Ferdinand gestured for me to sit down again, deliberately eyeing my retainers all the while. As much as I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake whatever secrets he was keeping out of him, we were in full view of an entire room of people; even if they could not hear us, they would want to know what had gotten such a rise out of me.

The incident in the Garden of Beginnings and the truth about Mestionora’s descent would drastically impact the selection of the next Zent. For that reason, I had been told not to say anything at least until our upcoming meeting with the royals was over.

“Mestionora wanted to keep you distracted during her descent, so she cut your ties to anything stronger than your love of books,” Ferdinand explained. “She made it very clear that the memories were severed, not erased. I could not glean any more than that, but I doubt there was much you would prioritize over the library of a goddess. I even have a good idea which people you might have forgotten, though I cannot speak for anything that was festering in your subconscious.”

“So... I cared more about a dyer and a hairpin craftsperson than reading? That doesn’t make any sense—not when I still remember the archducal family and my retainers. You know about the people I’ve forgotten, don’t you? Can you tell me what they’re like?”

Though I thought a little insight might help me to remember, Ferdinand shook his head and refused to elaborate. I didn’t feel anything about the dyer or the hairpin craftsperson, but for my memories of them to have been severed in the first place, they must have once been important to me. I needed to get those memories back.

“How can I restore the connections?” I asked. “Do you know?”

“Given our lack of time and resources, there is little we can do right now. You will need to wait until the next Zent has been chosen. Most of the people precious to you are in Ehrenfest—and commoners, at that. You will not encounter them at the Royal Academy. I will support you later, so just wait for now.”

“‘Later’? Do you promise?”

Ferdinand nodded, and the tension drained out of my body. As much as he kept secrets and tried to manipulate me to do as he wanted, he never outright lied to me. His promise meant he would eventually help me, even if our hands were tied for now.

“May I proceed with the pre-meeting?” Ferdinand asked. “There is not much time before lunch.”

“Yes.”

“Dunkelfelger’s archducal couple has arrived,” an attendant by the door announced just as fourth bell rang. Sylvester and Florencia welcomed them as the hosts of today’s meeting.

“Take your seat,” Ferdinand told me. “And remember not to do anything funny.”

Ferdinand and I were attending not as hosts but as guests. I was invited as the current owner of Ahrensbach’s foundation and the divine avatar of a goddess here to grant the Grutrissheit, while Ferdinand was invited as the fiancé of the duchy’s next aub by royal decree.

But I’m the only one being made to sit here. This is so uncomfortable... Curse you, Ferdinand.

During a gathering such as this one, it was customary for all guests to greet the highest-ranking attendees. These people of note were given chairs some distance away from the main table to avoid obstructing other guests and attendants. Putting me here was a sly trick to emphasize that, as a divine avatar, I was superior to the royal family.

I almost couldn’t believe how many people were surrounding me. My knights were standing in a row behind my chair, while Ferdinand and Hartmut were standing to my immediate left and right, respectively.

“Ferdinand, should you not sit as well...?” I asked. “You’re going to look strange if you just keep standing there. It makes you seem like one of my retainers.”

“Only those of equal status may sit beside you. If we waived that rule for my sake, it would detract from your importance as a divine avatar and defeat the whole point. One of your retainers can take my place at your side if you would prefer, but I suspect Philine or Roderick will immediately bend if one of the royals complains about your status.”

“Please stay where you are. Your support heartens me.”

“As I thought.”

It was then that Dunkelfelger’s archducal couple concluded their greetings: “Aub Ehrenfest, we are grateful that you decided to host this meeting. I also sincerely appreciate the role you played in letting my duchy experience true ditter.”

They went to sit down, noticed that I was waiting to be greeted as well, and then strode over with wide eyes. I almost stood up on instinct—I was so used to their status exceeding my own—but a subtle nod from Ferdinand reminded me to stay still.

Dunkelfelger’s archducal couple soon knelt before me. “O Mestionora, Goddess of Wisdom, let our duchy be blessed.”

Ferdinand had told those in our immediate circle to treat me as they normally would, so only Hartmut and Clarissa had knelt upon seeing me. Their displays of reverence, which I’d taken to be excessive, must have actually been the norm for nobles in the presence of divine mana.

The aub and his wife were showing respect not to me but to the goddess-dyed mana now inhabiting my vessel. That was why Ferdinand had ordered me not to get carried away—I would need to face the consequences when the divine mana faded. I wasn’t really sure what it meant to ‘get carried away’ in this scenario, but I now had an archduke kneeling before me whose status had always exceeded my own. It was as uncomfortable as when Benno and the others had knelt to me for the very first time.

“Aub Dunkelfelger,” I said, “I apologize, but Mestionora has returned to the distant heights. She might have dyed my mana, but I am still only Rozemyne and cannot give a goddess’s blessing.”

“Oh, that is a shame.”

Though my explanation sounded a little awkward, the influence of my divine mana remained. Dunkelfelger’s archducal couple refused to stand.

“I never thought the day would come when I would fight alongside a true divine avatar...” Aub Dunkelfelger said. “The knights of my duchy regret that you were not there to witness our heroic victory against the Sovereign Order.”

The archduke continued even as the attendants began pouring tea, explaining everything he and his troops had accomplished. Many of Dunkelfelger’s knights were still overjoyed to have participated in such an enormous ditter match. The same couldn’t be said for the knights of Ahrensbach, who were on edge about overseeing and interrogating their Lanzenave prisoners.

“I am told my husband might be put on the throne depending on the royal family’s words and actions during this meeting...” Sieglinde mused aloud. She glanced cautiously at the door. “I... wonder how they will respond to the current situation.”

I was deeply concerned about the future of the country’s royals. My eyes also wandered to the door, which the attendants were opening to welcome a new wave of guests.

“Now, if you will excuse us...” Sieglinde said, then took her husband to their seats just as the royal family entered. There was an emaciated-looking Trauerqual with his first wife, Ralfrieda; Sigiswald and Adolphine; Anastasius and Eglantine; and the young Hildebrand with his mother, Magdalena. It was springtime, but the third prince was keeping his hands in a fur muff.

Under normal circumstances, for a gathering like this one, rulers would choose to bring only their first wives. It was surprising to see Magdalena here, but she had received an invitation both as a knight who had led the charge to smite Raublut and as the third prince’s mother. She would need to take responsibility for her son’s actions.

Oof... They look so pale and sick as heck.

Still, could anyone blame them? They must have heard the gist of what we intended to discuss from Anastasius and Magdalena.

“Aub Ehrenfest, I thank you for hosting us today,” Trauerqual said in a slightly raspy voice. Then he knelt in front of me alongside the rest of the royal family. “O Mestionora, Goddess of Wisdom, we beseech you for your blessing.”

“I wish to reward you all for your goodwill and persistent hard work,” I said. “It was not lost on me that Prince Sigiswald gave me a symbol of authority in my time of need.”

I turned to Hartmut and gave him the same signal we had agreed upon during our pre-meeting. He reacted at once and passed me a leather pouch. Sigiswald must have realized what was inside because his eyes darted between Sylvester and me, betraying offense.

“No, um... That is actually—”

“My apologies. You went out of your way to prepare it for me, but the chain was damaged as a result of the nonstop fighting. I thought it best to return it right away.”

I was being sincere—we really didn’t have much time. I’d spent the previous night inspecting the chain, making sure it was ready to be returned, only to accidentally bombard it with the divine mana leaking out of me. The chain had immediately turned to dust, and even the feystone part had ended up brittle.

I need to return it now, while it still at least somewhat resembles its original shape! Before it crumbles away entirely!

Sensing the urgency, I took the necklace from its small pouch.

“Rozemyne,” Ferdinand interjected, “do not grab it with your bare hands, or—”

“Oops!”

His warning came too late; the feystone portion had clung to its form, but my touch reduced it to powder. The royals inhaled sharply and stared in disbelief. I really hadn’t meant to break it. The divine mana was to blame, and it wasn’t even something I could control.

“M-My apologies once again,” I said. “I assume gold dust made from goddess-dyed mana is exceptionally valuable as a brewing material, considering its vast mana capacity and many elements, so, um... Hopefully, that makes up for the loss.”

I returned the dust in my hand to the pouch, which I then held out to Sigiswald. He stared at it in silence for a few seconds before finally smiling and accepting it. “I am glad our symbol of authority was of use to you,” he said.