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Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 3.2 - Chapter 5




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The Monastery’s Barrier 

“Wilma, does the temple orphanage have enough resources to house more people over the winter?” I asked, referring to those in Hasse’s orphanage. 

In response, Wilma retrieved some documents from last year and started flipping through them. “Our winter preparations will need to be more extensive than they were last year, but we should have enough rooms. All we lack is bedding, tableware, and eating utensils.” 

There was no issue accommodating the three priests and three shrine maidens as they had initially come from Ehrenfest’s orphanage, but according to Wilma, we didn’t have everything we needed for the four newcomers—that is, Nora and the others. This would be the only winter they spent in the temple since they were only being brought here for their education, and with that in mind, it would be more efficient to just bring what they needed from Hasse than to buy entirely new things. 

“I see. I don’t have an exact number for you, but please make plans under the assumption that there will be ten more people living here over the winter. There shouldn’t be any issues since we have more time and money than we need this year—all thanks to you, Wilma, I might add.” 

“My one regret is that the High Priest forbade us from ever doing it again. Ahaha.” 

The sales from Ferdinand’s charity concert had really plumped up our wallets this year. They were essentially bursting at the seams, and it was all thanks to Wilma’s illustrations completely selling out. We couldn’t waste any of the money since we needed it to build orphanages and workshops in other cities, but preparing the temple orphanage for winter was a good cause too. 

“Incidentally, how are the illustrations of the summer subordinate gods going? Are they nearly finished?” 

“Yes, most of them are done. There is still one more I need to complete, but I believe they started printing the ones I already finished today,” Wilma explained. 

Gil had mentioned that they finished printing the text, but apparently they had now started printing the art as well. They would probably be putting the books together in just a few days’ time. 

“Tell me, Wilma... Do you think we could make picture books for the autumn and winter subordinate gods before the time comes for winter socializing?” 

“That will be somewhat difficult. With all the winter preparations, there simply isn’t enough time.” 

Rich people and nobles were the primary demographic for picture books, so having the series done before winter socializing would have likely led to a boost in sales. But if it wasn’t feasible, then that was that; we could just have them ready for next year instead. 

“Lady Rozemyne, what should we do as winter handiwork? Shall we make toys as we did last year?” 

“Yes, everyone should be capable of woodwork like that. I believe it will be a few more years before playing cards and reversi begin to sell en masse, so we should build up stores of as many as we can in the meantime. That way, we can sell them at the peak of demand and before any imitations arrive on the market, then think of other products to make.” 

All of the makeable things I could remember were simple in design, so I had no doubt that they’d be copied in no time. Our best bet was to accept that copycats would appear and focus on selling new products instead. 

“I see that you have your hands full making money even now that you are the High Bishop, Lady Rozemyne.” 

Okay, fair observation. But to be clear—and to protect the honor of my noble parents—I was being given more than enough money to live comfortably, unlike before when I had to earn my own to survive as an apprentice blue shrine maiden. I was plotting to make money here for the orphanage’s sake, and to spread printing for my books. 

“The orphanage must earn enough money to cover its operating costs. If you rely on funding from nobles, you will be back at square one the moment that funding disappears. My duty as High Bishop is to ensure that the orphanage will continue to function with or without me.” 

“I am ever so pleased to hear such comforting words, Lady Rozemyne.”

“...And so, it seems the orphanage will be able to accommodate everyone. But there is one thing I wanted to ask about,” I said to Ferdinand, having just reported what I had discussed with Wilma. “High Priest, would it be acceptable for me to sell picture-book bibles in the castle?” 

“Hold on... Where exactly in the castle do you intend to sell them?” Ferdinand asked, his light-gold eyes hardening a little as he glared at me. He was a teensy bit more sensitive about me selling things ever since I had sold illustrations of him without permission. 

“Nowhere. I’m just asking whether I can. In the lower city, only rich people like merchants can read and buy picture books, but everyone is a potential customer when it comes to nobles. I think it would be nice to sell them to nobles with children during winter socializing,” I explained. 

Ferdinand tapped his temples. “I suppose that is better than you selling strange illustrations...” he murmured, before promising to get me permission to sell them in the castle at the end of winter. “You may sell them as parting gifts to nobles leaving for their provinces. During the winter, you will first draw the attention of the children using the karuta and the book about the primary gods. That way, when it comes time to leave, no parent will be able to refuse a new picture book—especially given that yours are exceptionally cheap for what they contain.” 

Never in my life did I think Ferdinand would give me business advice like that. 

“...That said, it will be a tough sell unless their children have become interested in reading by that time. The price is reasonable if they think it will be useful to their studies, but otherwise it will seem a bit high.” 

“Children come to winter socializing as well?” I asked. The answer was probably yes, given that he had mentioned drawing their attention with karuta and picture books. My plan had been to shill the latter to the parents, but things would go a lot more smoothly with kids around. 

“Those who have been baptized do. It becomes an opportunity for them to learn culture at a young age, as well as a place to be taught the noble hierarchies. As for you, winter socializing is where you will search for and nurture your future retainers.” 

Eugh... I don’t want to deal with all that. It sounds like it’s going to be a huge pain in the neck. I won’t be able to spend all my time working on picture books then, I guess. Looks like I have a busy winter ahead of me. 

That was when I remembered what I had spent the previous winter doing. 

“Wait, doesn’t the temple have the Dedication Ritual over the winter? Surely I won’t have time to be involved in socializing.” 

“You will have time, and you will participate in both. I do so every year.” 

Ferdinand, in all his supreme competence, apparently commuted between the castle and the temple each year. But expecting the same from me in all of my supreme incompetence was a bit much, especially considering my ill health. Fran had a full understanding of my health, but even with him keeping his eyes on me at all times, I had still ended up being forced to drink potions time and time again. I wouldn’t last commuting between the castle and the temple. 

“Ferdinand, I think I might die this winter.” 

“Fear not, I won’t let you die that easily. There will be potions ready for you,” he replied. It seemed that he was willing to brew potions for me, but not lessen my workload. Talk about mean. 

“...At least don’t make them too bitter,” I requested. 

Ferdinand frowned, no doubt considering how many potions he should brew, and that was when I felt goosebumps rise all over my arms. 

“Eeep?!” 

It wasn’t like it was cold or anything—a sudden gross shudder had run down my spine, and a sickening sensation washed over me as thoughts of Hasse’s monastery flashed through my mind out of nowhere. 

“Ferdinand, something weird just happened...” I said, looking toward him for an explanation. He stood up, looking like he had noticed something. 

“...It seems someone has tried to enter Hasse’s monastery; I sense a slight disturbance in the protection field surrounding it. I imagine you can feel it as well, since you added your mana to the protection magic,” Ferdinand explained. 

It seemed that we could both sense people attacking the monastery—him because he had built it with creation magic, and me because I had poured my mana into the protection feystone. 

“Come with me, Rozemyne,” Ferdinand said as he headed to the hidden room beside his bed. I was a bit confused by his response. If people were attacking Hasse’s monastery, surely it made sense to go there as soon as possible. 

“Ferdinand, are we not going to Hasse?” 

“I did not feel any significant interference. It would be wiser to investigate matters first,” he said as he opened the door. 

I rushed in after him. This was my first time entering his hidden room in ages—that is, excluding all the times I’d come here to be lectured. 

Ferdinand picked out an octagonal bowl made of dark wood from among a mess of tools on one table, then set it down on a shorter, much less cluttered table. The bowl had a yellow feystone in each of its corners, and the intricate designs carved into the wood made it clear that this was a magic tool. 

He placed a hand over one of the feystones and poured mana into it, causing yellow light to stream through the carvings. The light split in two directions, moving around either side of the bowl and gradually connecting its feystones while the design’s pattern emerged to form a complete magic circle, standing out against the dark background. A second later, liquid started rising up from the bottom of the bowl, filling it steadily. 


Ferdinand took out his schtappe and said “spiegeln” before tapping the water, which made an image rise onto its surface. It was Hasse’s monastery. I stood up and peered into the bowl, rather than sitting on the bench like usual. This magic tool was entirely like a security camera. 

“...Ferdinand, can this thing see everywhere?” 

“If only. It can only see buildings with protection feystones containing the user’s mana. In general, the archduke’s family uses it to protect their cities and the duchy. It is not an all-purpose spying tool.” 

I’d assumed it could also be used for weirdo peeping, but apparently I was wrong. I sighed in relief, which immediately earned me a threatening smile from Ferdinand. 

“What in the world were you thinking?” he asked. 

“Oh, nothing at all. I think what’s happening at the monastery is a lot more important right now.” 

In the picture, we could see a group of around ten men armed with farming tools trying to force their way into the monastery. They had probably been ordered to do so by the mayor, though he was nowhere to be seen. The men were all pretty young, and the realization that they had come to take Nora and the others back made me shiver in fear. 

“Ferdinand, we must go and help the orphans at once.” 

“There will be no need for that; I see no nobles among them. Just observe,” he replied. 

The men aggressively grasped at the door with the intent to force it open, only to then pull their arms back with surprised expressions. They tried over and over again with the same result each time, making them look entirely like cats swiping at a toy. It was hard to even see them as attackers. 

“...What in the world are they doing?” I asked. 

“The barrier around the monastery has been strengthened to not allow those with ill intent inside. They no doubt experience blinding pain each time they touch the door. Trying again will not change this, but it seems they are slow on the uptake.” 

I watched the image, all the while thinking that being able to change the security level at will made the barrier a lot more convenient than expected. Ferdinand took that time to teach me a bit about creation magic. 

“The reason I built the monastery instead of Sylvester was so we could strengthen its barrier without the one around Ehrenfest being affected. Had the archduke made the monastery, the barriers around both it and the city would have been strengthened together. It is not hard to imagine all of the issues this would have brought about.” 

The barrier around Ehrenfest was apparently set to block magic attacks, while the one around the monastery had been strengthened to block those with ill intent. Ehrenfest having that same barrier would no doubt lead to problems like kids getting into fights with their parents, leaving the city to gather in the forest, and then not being able to get back in. 

“That makes sense. You could laugh off being locked out of your home after a fight, but not being able to get back into the city at all would be pretty serious,” I said. A smile crept onto my face as I pictured Dad pacing at the gate after an argument, able to do his job but unable to come home. But that smile didn’t last long. “...And now they’re swinging their farm tools.” 

Finally understanding that the doors couldn’t be opened by hand, the men raised their farming tools and swung down at them as hard as they could. In an instant, every single man was thrown back, and they ended up strewn across the ground in misshapen piles. 

“It resembles the shield of wind you made to protect the carriage during Spring Prayer, does it not? The monastery’s barrier is made in a similar fashion.” 

“That shield did a perfect job protecting Fran and Rosina. I’ll trust a wind shield any day.” 

The men looked shocked at having been knocked back, but still tried charging again. The results were as you would expect—no matter how many times they tried, they couldn’t even scratch the monastery’s door. They were only hurting themselves, and over time their blows grew weaker and they steadily looked more exhausted. The men grimaced up at the monastery as if seeing some kind of uncanny monster, then eventually retreated one by one. 

“It appears that the barrier is functioning as intended,” Ferdinand murmured, looking like a scientist analyzing test results as he wrote some notes on a wooden board. “I suppose we could reduce its strength a little.” 

But that idea terrified me. “I don’t think so. The barrier’s staying as is, and don’t change it without telling me! Now, we need to go make sure everyone is safe,” I said, but Ferdinand instantly shot me down without even looking up from his board. 

“One wrong move now and the mayor may be eliminated like Wolf was,” he said quietly. 

I froze mid-step, having already started leaving the room. Wolf was the former head of the ink guild who had one day died out of nowhere, and while I tended to forget he ever existed due to never having met him, his death served as a concrete example of how little nobles thought of commoners. Wolf had underground connections with nobles, and had been silenced by being murdered the moment Ferdinand and Karstedt started investigating him. 

And here Ferdinand was, warning me that the mayor could be murdered just as spontaneously if we moved as openly as we had before. I was sure that I understood how little nobles cared for the lives of commoners now, but hearing Ferdinand say it outright made my heart skip a beat. Hasse’s mayor was no friend of mine, but I didn’t want him dead or anything. At the very least, I would feel guilty if my actions led to him being killed. 

“...Right. Lives are important, after all.” 

“Indeed. I would like to capture him alive, as I imagine there is much he can offer us in the way of evidence,” Ferdinand said. It seemed that it wasn’t the mayor’s life he cared about, but rather the information he could provide. 

That kind of thinking made Ferdinand perfectly suited to politics, in my opinion. He wasn’t constantly moved by emotions like I was, nor would he mess things up by going crazy over books like I did. We were different on a fundamental level, and that just made me sigh; no matter how hard I tried to act like a noble, I would never fully become one myself. At the end of the day, I was just a commoner in fancy clothes. 

“You will wait until the scheduled day to visit them. I imagine this has taught you that they will be safe from attackers inside.”

There were three whole days before my next scheduled visit, and while I was more than a little impatient, I wasn’t going to let them go to waste. I had Wilma determine what the orphanage would need for the winter preparations, and asked Fran to work out what my chambers would need. Meanwhile, Gil and Lutz determined how much handiwork could be done based on how much we had managed to do last year, then ordered the proper number of wooden boards from Ingo and the appropriate amount of ink from the ink workshop. 

I had received an ordonnanz from Rihyarda instructing me to visit the castle so that I could have my winter clothing prepared, and Benno sent word that he wanted the chefs back to open the Italian restaurant. He also expressed his enthusiasm for me to sell my salting-out techniques to the Wax Guild, since he wanted to use the animal fat candles that didn’t stink from last year. 

In the midst of all that, Monika came to my chambers from the orphanage with a bundle wrapped in cloth. A guard at the gate leading to the lower city had apparently been handed a letter, and it was standard practice for those in the orphanage to take such deliveries to the temple’s noble section for them. But despite calling it a letter, what Monika actually had was a wooden board. 

“Lady Rozemyne, the sender said that they knew the former High Bishop was no longer in the temple, but asked for this to be delivered to him anyway. The gate guard didn’t know what to do with a letter addressed to the deceased, so I thought I would bring it straight to you.” 

“Yes, this is the first letter we’ve been sent specifically addressed to the former High Bishop.” 

As the current High Bishop, I would sometimes get letters of introduction from those requesting favors. These were usually sent by farmers and merchants heading for Ehrenfest’s market, so it was rare for us to get a letter right after the market had ended. And while we had received several letters addressed to the current High Bishop, this was the first to be specifically addressed to the former one. Perhaps news that the High Bishop had changed was spreading outside the city as well. 

Only someone who knew that the High Bishop had changed but didn’t know the old High Bishop had died would send a letter like this. That ruled out those in the Noble’s Quarter, but outside the city, there were probably only a few who knew about his death. 

“Shall we send the letter to his family in the Noble’s Quarter?” Monika asked. 

I slowly shook my head. That might have been ideal under normal circumstances, but the former High Bishop didn’t have anyone for the letter to go to. His older sister—the mother of the archduke—was locked up with no outside communication permitted, and while the former High Bishop still had family on his father’s side, the head of the house had changed and they weren’t on good terms either. In fact, the current head had declared that Bezewanst was unbaptized and not a member of their family in any capacity—according to Ferdinand, anyway. 

“I think our only option is to handle the letter ourselves. We shall do what we always do. Please inform the messenger to come again tomorrow for a response.” 

“As you wish,” Monika said before leaving the room. 

Once she was gone, I unwrapped the cloth so that I could look over the letter—that is, the wooden board. The writing was scrawled out in shaky letters that made it clear the sender wasn’t a very experienced writer. 

Surprisingly enough, it was from the mayor of Hasse himself. 

As Ferdinand had guessed, the mayor didn’t know that Bezewanst was already dead. His letter listed off complaint after complaint: “Do something about the monastery.” “Your subordinates are being despots.” “They stole the orphans I was contracted to sell to Lord Kantna the scholar.” I had known the mayor was a small fry, but this was honestly so pathetic that I found myself at a total loss for words. All I could do was sigh. 

“Fran, let us visit Ferdinand.” 

At that, we went to see Ferdinand, with me carrying the board that served as crucial evidence of the mayor’s noble connections. 

“Ferdinand, this letter arrived today. How shall we reply?” I asked, handing him the board. He glared at the poorly scribbled letters as he read, then made the same exhausted expression I had. 

“...We need only reply that the former High Bishop has died. What we do from there depends on how he reacts. Assuming he does not move against us, we might find it best to let him fester; he likely wields no power that could threaten us,” Ferdinand said, deciding to base his final decision on the mayor’s future behavior and what might happen at Spring Prayer. 

“Spring Prayer? Not the Harvest Festival?” 

“Cities built on agriculture depend on divine protection for a healthy harvest; they might manage to scrape by for a few years without it, but the land would steadily become more barren. Will he prioritize relations with the High Bishop who can help his city, or earning small change from corrupted nobles? The choice is his,” Ferdinand said, waving his hand dismissively. “Should he choose poorly, the farmers and citizens who consequently lose their harvest shall rise up and remove him on their own. More importantly, I see that he has gone out of his way to name his noble ally. I suggest we investigate him first.” 

“Good luck with that,” I said, leaving the board with Ferdinand and returning to my chambers to write a response to Hasse’s mayor. 

Or rather, I wrote one under Fran’s supervision. He made sure to explain using all the usual noble euphemisms that the former High Bishop was dead, and that the mayor would have to decide in what direction to take his life now. I just hoped he would be able to parse the language. 



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