Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 4.3 - Chapter Pr

Prologue

Gil watched as snow slammed against the window. There was another blizzard outside; the Lord of Winter was no doubt going on a massive rampage somewhere. Why couldn’t the Knight’s Order just kill it already? Once it was gone, he could gather the parues Lady Rozemyne loved to eat.

“Kai, bring that box over here. Selim, take the paper from this shelf,” Gil instructed. Each breath came out as a fine mist so icy white that he thought it might freeze midair. He paced on the spot, genuinely worried about his toes freezing from the cold, breathing on his fingertips every now and then in an attempt to warm them. Since the Rozemyne Workshop was located in what had once been a storage space, and since it was packed with flammable goods like paper, there was no furnace for them to use.

“Is this all we need to carry?” asked Achim, the gray priest.

Gil gazed across the workshop once more and nodded. The gray priests had picked up all the paper and tools they would need for their handiwork. He stepped outside with the others, firmly locked the door, and then hurried away from the workshop. Now began their work in the orphanage’s dining hall.

“Ah, Gil. Thank you for enduring the cold,” Fritz said upon noticing his return, taking a momentary pause from leading the others. “Which section will you manage? Is it about time for us to switch?”

Gil mulled over the question. He had been operating as a supervisor up until yesterday, so maybe switching with Fritz was indeed a good idea. They regularly exchanged the position to ensure their reports to Rozemyne were as accurate as possible; two sets of eyes made it easier for them to evaluate how the gray priests were handling their work and pick up on any interpersonal issues among them.

“I will oversee the book-making today. Fritz, please handle the karuta and reversi.”

Once they had settled on their roles, Fritz went to a corner where some of the gray priests were working. Gil, meanwhile, moved over to the gray shrine maidens who were busy making books. The books needed to be ready for the end of winter, when they were due to be sold at the castle. The importance of sales day was increasing by the year, with more and more books being needed. Winter handiwork was a very busy time for everyone.

“Now, now, Dirk. Look carefully. You need to make sure the pages are exactly on top of each other,” Delia explained. She had previously served as an attendant to Lady Rozemyne, and now she was teaching her eager younger brother how to help as well. The year prior, Dirk had been constrained to either a corner of the dining hall or a children’s room on the first floor so that he wouldn’t get in the way, but now he was grown enough to follow instructions from the adults.

I might want to include this in my report to Lady Rozemyne.

Lady Rozemyne was especially interested in updates on Delia and Dirk. She couldn’t meet with her own little brother Kamil as family due to a magic contract, so she experienced his growth through Dirk.

“Oh, Gil. Supervising us today?” Delia asked. “Come see how much Dirk has improved. You can tell Lady Rozemyne he’s been doing really good today.” She was enthusiastically gesturing Gil over as she spoke, obsessively praising her little brother in the same way that some parents might gush over their children.

Gil sat down nearby and observed Dirk’s heroic battle with the paper. There was a deadly seriousness in his dark-brown, almost black eyes as he delicately positioned sheet atop sheet, as directed to by Delia.

“Seems like Dirk’s just about ready to join the workshop,” Gil observed. “Might also be able to bring him to the forest once all the snow melts.”

Perhaps because he was conversing with an old friend, Gil reverted to his old, crude way of speaking. He was no longer talking as formally as one would expect from an attendant serving the High Bishop, but Delia didn’t chastise him for it.

“Really? He’s been talking about how much he can’t wait to go to the workshop. Isn’t this exciting, Dirk?”

At this exchange, Dirk began focusing even more intensely on stacking sheets. Delia smiled at her younger brother’s efforts before returning to weaving her own stack of paper together with thread, while Gil similarly began his book-making work.

“So, Gil... How is Lady Rozemyne doing?” Delia abruptly asked midway through her work, her eyes focused on her hands as though it were just a casual question.

Gil shot her a side-glance and then shrugged. “You saw her when she looked over the place, didn’t ya?”

Delia pursed her lips slightly, having not received the answer she wanted. “Monika said she’s so frail now that she can only move with a bunch of magic tools, but she was moving fine when she came here, wasn’t she? I’m worried she hasn’t actually gotten better. She always pushes herself too far in the weirdest ways, so...”

Delia knew Lady Rozemyne in a way that Monika and Nicola didn’t, having served her back when she was still an apprentice blue shrine maiden—back when she was still Myne. She had the sharp instincts one could only develop from spending so much time around Rozemyne’s old, honest self. Gil had a stronger bond with Delia than the others, since they both worried about Rozemyne in ways the others didn’t.

“They say she can’t even move without the magic tools yet, but they’re still gonna make her do the Dedication Ritual. She had to deal with nobles in the castle right after waking up, and now, even though she’s finally back from the Royal Academy, she’s stuck helping the High Priest and making sure he eats. That’s messed up, right? I mean, for crying out loud, she spent two whole years in a coma...” Gil grumbled.

“And Fran is letting this happen...?” Delia asked, looking at Gil with searching eyes.

“He and Zahm are sure she’ll be completely fine with the High Priest there. Makes me wanna ask whose attendants they really are sometimes.”

Gil was pretty unhappy about how many attendants in the High Bishop’s chambers showed favoritism toward the High Priest—not only did it make him uncomfortable, but he deeply felt it was wrong. Still, Ferdinand had control over Rozemyne’s schedule, and it was too much of a risk to say anything negative about him in the High Bishop’s chambers.

In the end, Gil decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn’t want Fran and Zahm to become hostile toward him, but he still really wished they would think about Rozemyne first and foremost. The words had kind of slipped from his mouth on this occasion, since he assumed Delia would agree with him.

“Hmm... Well, Fran used to serve the High Priest and was always prioritizing his opinions over everything else. The thing is, though...” Delia looked straight at Gil. Her blue eyes were like quiet forest springs, calm and undisturbed. “If you start ignoring other people’s warnings and advice, even out of compassion for Lady Rozemyne, you might end up like me. I never intended to put Dirk in danger, you know.”

Back then, Delia had been so stubbornly focused on Dirk that she had ignored warnings from Fran and the others and instead had asked the late High Bishop for help. That very move had put her dear younger brother in danger—the one thing she had so desperately been trying to avoid. Delia didn’t want Gil to end up blinded in the same way when it came to Rozemyne. Her warning made him recoil slightly, as though he had been struck in the face.

“We don’t know the first thing about noble society,” Delia continued. “Despite how sick she is, Lady Rozemyne is going along with the High Priest’s suggestion, right? Maybe there’s something we don’t know about which means she has no other choice. Your work with the Gutenbergs means you’re away from the temple more than most of her attendants, so maybe you should talk to Fran and Zahm a bit more to get up to speed.”

Delia chuckled to herself at that last remark. She had matured so much that it really was like a smack in the face. Gil had already considered himself an adult, since he had grown bigger and could do his job, but now he was starting to wonder whether he had still been a kid on the inside all along.

“I guess she’s with Fran and Monika today...” Gil said.

Lady Rozemyne’s temple attendants would eat the leftovers of each meal, but since Lady Rozemyne always needed someone with her, they couldn’t all eat at once. There was a door in the High Bishop’s chambers that led to storage space, a staircase for attendants, and the head attendant’s room. The last was where the attendants would take turns to eat, and it was made in such a way that they would know as soon as their lady rang the bell for summoning others.

“Ah, Gil. What were you talking to Delia about earlier?” Fritz asked during their meal.

Gil paused for a moment, his gaze inadvertently turning to Zahm. Could he risk speaking critically of the High Priest with him nearby? Zahm soon noticed the eyes on him and set down his spoon with a guarded look.

“Is Delia planning something dangerous?” Fritz probed.

There were many who thought Delia hadn’t been punished enough for exposing both the High Priest and Rozemyne to danger. Gil had agreed with them at the time, but he no longer saw her as even a slight threat, nor did he consider her being stuck in the orphanage forevermore a light punishment.

“Delia is nothing but grateful to Lady Rozemyne. She will not repeat her former mistakes,” Gil said flatly. He then remembered the advice Delia had given him about talking to others more and returned his attention to Zahm. “She was just worried about Lady Rozemyne being so busy despite having so recently awoken from her two-year slumber. She thinks it’s wrong to force her weakened body to move through the use of magic tools, and... I feel the same way. Is it really necessary to put Lady Rozemyne through this?”

Even after receiving Delia’s advice, Gil was still dissatisfied with how Ferdinand was handling things. It seemed that Zahm had picked up on this, as he furrowed his brow in displeasure.

“Do you not believe the High Priest?” Zahm asked. “As long as he is here, she—”

“I know the High Priest saved Lady Rozemyne’s life. I know he’s something else,” Gil said, shaking his head as he interrupted Zahm.

“Then you should also know it is safe to leave everything to him.”

Gil couldn’t bear to hear those same words he had already heard so many times before. He was grateful to Ferdinand, and it was clear to see he was more understanding than most nobles, but still. It was hard to believe putting such a burden on Rozemyne when she could barely even move was really wise.

“Why did the High Priest make Lady Rozemyne go to the castle and the Royal Academy before she could properly recover? Why is he making her do so much work while she’s still sick? You can smile and say she’s better now all you want, but I remember her lying limp on the bench, and the way she stiffened with fear when she woke up and first looked around,” Gil complained, letting out all the emotions that had built up inside him. His gratitude toward the High Priest for saving Rozemyne was completely separate from his dissatisfaction about how she was being treated.

Fritz frowned, his expression tinged with worry. “Gil, I understand how you feel, but please calm down.”

Gil bit his lip. Being told to calm down made him feel as though his opinion was simply being rejected. Just as he was beginning to feel he had no one on his side, however, Nicola spoke up.

“I really understand how you feel, Gil. Lady Rozemyne still can’t walk on her own; the only things keeping her upright are the High Priest’s magic tools. She can’t even take them off when bathing.” Nicola likewise knew how frightened Lady Rozemyne had been upon waking up, and she knew from bathing her just how much she was unable to move. “I understand that the High Priest’s work and her duties as a noble are important, but I would appreciate it if she could focus on her recovery right now. I don’t want to see Lady Rozemyne so sad again.”

Gil was immeasurably relieved to have Nicola agree with him. It proved to him that there were others among Lady Rozemyne’s attendants who cared more about her than they did the High Priest.

Zahm paused as he considered their opinions; then he looked up in realization, his gaze focusing on both Gil and Nicola. “Fran, the High Priest, and I all want Lady Rozemyne to recover as soon as possible. We truly do. However, one cannot show weakness in noble society. I believe we have different understandings of this.”

“What do you mean?” Gil asked.

“You and Nicola have served only Lady Rozemyne, correct? Never have you visited a noble estate. You are truly unfamiliar with the nobility, and you have never witnessed noble society. The High Priest is doing everything he can to ensure Lady Rozemyne’s burden in noble society is as slight as possible.”

Zahm was right that neither Gil nor Nicola had gone to a noble estate before; the only nobles they had met in person were those who came to the temple. They could also hardly disagree that they were oblivious when it came to noble society. All of a sudden, they felt as though they were in the wrong. That only frustrated Gil, who desperately tried to think of some way to argue back.

“But the High Priest has been spending days in his workshop prioritizing his research above everything else,” Gil eventually countered. “He won’t leave or even eat unless Lady Rozemyne comes calling for him, which is bothering everyone, right? Is that an important part of reducing her burden in noble society? He said himself that only he could save her, so I would rather he actually prioritize her recovery.”

Zahm balked, having not expected such an argument. Gil took this opportunity to further press the matter, taking full advantage of the weak point he had revealed.

“I know the High Priest is incredible, but you’re supposed to be Lady Rozemyne’s attendant, Zahm. I just want you to care about her more too.”

Gil was certain of victory. As he prepared to hammer his point home, however, Fritz raised a hand to stop him. “Zahm is not truly Lady Rozemyne’s attendant; it is only natural that he would consider the High Priest first and foremost. You must not hope for him to prioritize Lady Rozemyne as you do,” he said, his tone consoling.

Gil and Zahm stared at Fritz, equally as surprised as each other. Nobody could believe what he had just said, and with such a calm smile too.

“Fritz, what do you mean by that?” Zahm asked. “Are you insulting me?”

“I am simply stating the truth. I mean no disrespect, nor do I think poorly of you. I believe Nicola and Gil will understand as well, though an explanation is required.” With that, Fritz began to speak of the past. “Zahm and I previously served a blue priest by the name of Shikza. He was a highly emotional and violent man, which made serving him quite troublesome. Still, life as an attendant was much better than the alternative—that was especially clear once Brother Shikza returned to noble society and we returned to the orphanage. You recall the terrible state of the orphanage back then, no?”

Gil nodded. He had been stuck in the orphanage himself at the time, so he had never met the blue priest Fritz was referring to, but he remembered just how terrible things had been when they were sent back. That was when more and more attendants were returning to the orphanage, making life instantly harder for everyone. He had wished that someone—anyone—would save him, so he was overjoyed when he was taken as Rozemyne’s attendant.

“You, Nicola, and I were saved by Lady Rozemyne, while Zahm was saved by the High Priest,” Fritz went on. “While Zahm later came to serve Lady Rozemyne, he did so at the request of the High Priest, who said she was lacking in attendants. It should come as no surprise then that Zahm’s loyalties remain with the High Priest. There is nothing wrong with that, of course; rather, it goes to show that his status and mindset differ from our own.”

“Oh, I see...” Nicola and Zahm said in unison, both understanding Fritz’s point. Gil understood as well; it was basically the same thing as him working for the Plantin Company as a Gutenberg under Lady Rozemyne’s orders. With that in mind, he could internally rationalize Zahm serving as Lady Rozemyne’s attendant while remaining loyal to Ferdinand.

“I still don’t know about the High Priest hiding away in his workshop all day...” Gil said with a frown. Nicola nodded in agreement, a wry smile touching her lips.

Zahm chuckled. “Perhaps it will be easier if you flip the gewinnen board and consider things from the opposite perspective. Imagine the High Priest disappearing and Lady Rozemyne spending two years swamped with work, no longer able to read for pleasure. What would you do, then, if the High Priest suddenly returned, and Lady Rozemyne said she wished to dedicate a few days to reading? Would you not consider this acceptable?”

Hearing Zahm’s analogy made Gil empathize with why Ferdinand was spending so much time in his workshop, which in turn soothed the anger boiling within him. The High Priest was simply taking a short rest after suffering alone for two years to save Rozemyne. She had no doubt realized that, which was why she was forgiving this minor annoyance.

Fritz gave a relieved smile, aware that Gil now understood. “If you have any requests for the High Priest, ask Zahm or Fran to voice them. It is highly likely he will consider them. For example, requesting that he continue his research only after giving Lady Rozemyne an examination, or something of the sort.”

“I will make that suggestion,” Zahm said with a grin and a nod.

“Okay. Lady Rozemyne is very anxious about her magic contracts with the Plantin Company being nullified,” Gil said. “Please ask the High Priest what he is thinking about that.”

“Very well. I shall ask,” Zahm replied with a smile. Gil was grateful he was so willing to help.

Rozemyne behaved completely differently when she was talking to Lutz in her hidden room compared to when she was anywhere else. Only those who saw her there were likely to understand she was living as a noble to protect her family and the Gutenbergs. Gil didn’t think she needed to keep pushing herself. He wanted her to have somewhere she could smile freely, much like she did when speaking to Lutz, Benno, and the others. Unlike Fran, he wasn’t able to accept that this was just the way things were now that she was of a higher status; he wanted to make her beam with joy as she had used to when she headed for her home in the lower city.

I want all that, but I can’t actually do anything myself...

Gil cursed himself on the inside, knowing he had in fact hurt Rozemyne by refusing her when she had attempted to pat his head. He had thrown himself into his printing work, eager to make as many new books as possible in case it made Rozemyne wake up sooner. He had wanted to grow up as quickly as possible—to be treated like an adult—so he had gotten used to stopping Zahm and Fran whenever they tried treating him like a kid. But due to that, he had reflexively done the same with Rozemyne.

He had hurriedly composed himself straight after and knelt as normal, but Rozemyne had still seemed a little sad when she praised him. The truth was that he had been so proud of all the hard work he had put in over the past two years and the amount he had grown that getting a pat on the head had almost broken his heart. As he came to realize that was the last time he would ever feel her kind warmth, however, an unbearable loneliness swept over him. If only he hadn’t foolishly rejected her, then she would have kept patting his head and continued praising him.

At the same time, however, the hand that had patted his head was so much smaller than the one in his memories. That thought alone was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Things were no longer as they had once been, back when Rozemyne had saved him, supported him, and watched over him. It was now his turn to support his lady—his lady who was still small and young and afraid.

Rozemyne was anxious about her magic contracts being nullified, and Gil shared those concerns. He still vividly remembered leaving the temple for the first time and walking with Rozemyne to her house in the lower city. That would never happen again. They would never go to that house again. He could feel even his most vivid memories of those old times fading more with each passing day.

Gil continued to eat as he simmered in sentimentality. The next thing he knew, his plate was empty. He cleaned up his dishes and prepared to bring the leftovers to the orphanage; it was his and Fritz’s job to bring them their divine gifts and then help with the handiwork. They pushed the heavy carts loaded with large pots down the halls.

“I imagine consulting the High Priest will not save the contracts from being nullified,” Fritz said to Gil. “What will you do following the nullification? I believe it is more important for you to think of what you can do to best serve Lady Rozemyne, rather than what the High Priest can do for her.”

Gil mulled over the question. What could he do? What would Rozemyne want?

“For as long as I am in the temple, I want to help Lady Rozemyne stay connected to the lower city. Just as Lutz has done by delivering letters,” he finally said.

Fritz paused for a brief moment. “That is a good idea. I am sure both Lady Rozemyne and the Plantin Company will be heartened to hear that.”

At the very least, Gil wanted to support Lady Rozemyne such that the smile she gave when being brought a new book never changed, and so that she never turned entirely into a noble. He had found his goal, and his grip on the cart tightened as he looked toward the future.