Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 4.6 - Chapter 1

The Beginning of Classes

It was the day after the fellowship gathering and classes were due to begin. The students in the Ehrenfest Dormitory had eaten breakfast, making sure to squeeze in a few extra moments of studying whenever they could, and were now preparing for their first lesson.

The victory conditions for the Better Grades Committee were the same as last year: either have everyone in your team pass their classes the fastest or produce the most honor students. The new students balked when they saw their seniors working so hard from the very first day and rushed to open up their textbooks as well. Charlotte was doing her best to lead them, but she had no prior experience with the dormitory, meaning she was one step behind us.

I passed a letter to Rihyarda while keeping a watchful eye on my surroundings. “Deliver this meeting request to Professor Solange while I am attending my morning lessons,” I said. “We will need to register the first-years at the library.”

“Understood, milady.”

I was skimming some notes I had written to help me remember some particularly important details when I noticed Charlotte looking at me with puffed-out cheeks. “You certainly are moving at your leisure, Sister...” she said.

“Of course,” I replied. “I was afforded an entire year to prepare, after all. And while I understand that you and the other first-years are bemoaning what little time you had to make your own preparations, I think you are forgetting that you spent this winter and the last studying history and geography in the playroom, and that you have generously been given my textbooks. Last year, the Better Grades Committee wasn’t established until after our arrival at the Royal Academy, so the first-years were forced to adapt almost overnight. You have it much easier than we did.”

The laynoble and mednoble second-years nodded, having struggled a great deal with history and geography at the time. They had looked like death itself, but this year they looked healthy and fine as they prepared for class. Incidentally, my target for the second-years was for everyone to pass in one go and with the highest possible marks.

“It’s about time,” Rihyarda announced. “Everyone, move to the entrance hall.”

Everyone put away their study materials and gathered in the entrance hall with confident yet also somewhat anxious expressions. We needed to be ready in time for second-and-a-half bell, when our morning classes began. After checking that the first-years were wearing their brooches and capes, we told them what to be aware of and then exited the dormitory.

First- and second-years went to the central building while third-years and above went to the buildings for their respective courses. These first-years were going to have practical lessons in the morning and then written lessons in the afternoon, while we second-years were going to have written lessons in the morning and practical lessons in the afternoon, much like the year before. This morning we were focusing on history and law.

“This will be your first practical lesson, then,” I said to Charlotte. “I hope you are able to wield mana without issue.”

“Indeed,” Charlotte replied. “You and Wilfried are aiming for everyone to pass their written lessons on the first day, correct? I look forward to hearing reports on your success.”

I gave a firm nod in response and then headed to the auditorium with the other second-years. “You must not leave until we come to get you,” our retainers stressed before going on their way. Once they were gone, we looked for the seats designated for Ehrenfest—that is, the ones labeled “ten.” Distinguishing them was very easy indeed, since the desks and chairs were separated into duchies.

“Lady Rozemyne. Lord Wilfried. How do you do?” came a familiar young and gentle voice as students from the other duchies started to gather. It was Hannelore. I turned around and saw that she was standing in front of the other blue-caped Dunkelfelger students. Rather than her guiding them, it seemed more like they were her stalwart defenders.

“Good, Lady Hannelore,” I replied. “I trust you are just as well.”

“Are you and the other Ehrenfest students once again aiming to pass all of your classes on the first day?” she asked with a soft smile, as if she found the sight of us desperately reading our notes heartwarming. “It was quite a surprise when you accomplished it last year.”

Wilfried replied that we hoped to accomplish the same again.

“Much to our embarrassment, during the awards ceremony last year, we were praised for our speed but criticized for our low grades,” I admitted with a smile. “Although we still intend to pass on the first day, our goal for this year is to improve our efforts and achieve high grades that we can take pride in.”

Hannelore looked at me and the other Ehrenfest students with wide eyes, as did the Dunkelfelger students accompanying her. “I suppose that if anyone can perform such a feat, Lady Rozemyne, it is you,” she said. “I look forward to hearing of your duchy’s exploits this year.”

Lady Hannelore is expecting great things from me?! As a fellow Library Committee member, I need to secure grades that won’t disappoint her!

I steeled my resolve to achieve grades befitting of a Library Committee member, at which point my motivation shot up to a level that was entirely unprecedented.

“I will strive to meet your expectations, Lady Hannelore,” I said. “I shall also pray for Dunkelfelger to find just as much success this year.”

“I thank you ever so much, Lady Rozemyne.”

After watching the platoon of blue-capes head to their seats, I returned my focus to my notepad of weaknesses. Our first class was history, which was going to be more complex and in-depth than what we had studied the year before. There was a lot to memorize, but most of the information was just building upon things we had already learned, so it wasn’t that bad. First- and second-years were taught the general flow of history, while third-years and above learned about particular figures and their achievements, depending on their course.

“I’m so nervous. I was the only one who barely passed history last year...” Philine muttered while preparing her writing utensils, no doubt remembering what the teacher had said to her last year.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I tried to reassure her. “You studied as well as anyone. Isn’t that right, Wilfried?”

“Don’t talk to me right now, Rozemyne. Feels like the names of all these kings are going to spill out of my ears at any moment.”

“They certainly are long and similar-sounding...” I agreed.

The years in this world weren’t numbered; instead, Yurgenschmidt history was neatly delineated into eras based on the reigns of different kings, with the King X era being followed by the King Y era, for example. As I continued memorizing them all, it occurred to me that the system was quite similar to how periods were represented in Japanese history. The names were harder to memorize, but not having to remember numbers made up for that. You just needed to get the general flow down.

“Now, one student from each duchy come forth to fetch the exam papers.”

Philine collected the papers as our representative and then handed them out. This was always the most exhilarating moment of school, in my opinion. It made me feel like a hero of legend, brandishing my sword and preparing to fight any valiant foe who would dare challenge me.

Although, when I’m not so confident about passing, it feels more like I’m pleading for my life.

This was a test I was confident about, so I finished it in the blink of an eye. It seemed that everyone else from Ehrenfest found it equally trivial. Philine and Roderick in particular looked a lot more at ease than they had the year before.

“Done,” Philine eventually announced after staring down at her test with a deadly serious expression. She was the last Ehrenfest student to finish, so we turned in our papers and started studying for our next exam while the professor graded us.

It was while we were studying law that an announcement echoed through the auditorium: “All passing grades for Ehrenfest.” We glanced up from our notes and exchanged celebratory looks; the girls smiled at one another while the boys traded more self-assured grins.

Some other duchies received a one hundred percent pass rate as well, but Ehrenfest came in first. Hopefully we could keep it up and pass our next one together too.

Now on to law!

History hadn’t been a walk in the park for me, but law was another story entirely. Here, memorizing the content wasn’t enough; one needed to understand it as well.

Laws applied to all nobles in Yurgenschmidt, including royalty, and were recorded in what was appropriately titled The Book of Laws. We were studying from transcribed copies, while the original was a magic tool in the Sovereignty. The laws were focused almost entirely on interactions between duchies and things that applied on a countrywide scale, such as the appropriate process for marrying into another duchy or how successors were decided upon. One thing that stood out to me was how detailed the instructions were for when an archduke passed away without settling on a successor.

On the whole, the country’s laws were pretty ambiguous and crudely written; a lot of sections said nothing more than “the king will arbitrate” or “a decision shall be made during the Archduke Conference.” There had been more than enough times when I wanted to cry out that the laws provided no real guidance—that there was no purpose in them even existing. Did anyone here even understand the point of having them?

According to Ferdinand, it was exceedingly difficult to expunge outdated rules once they were added to The Book of Laws. Many were kept vague on purpose as a way to future-proof them.

In the past, there was a king who took issue with how many incidents depended on his arbitration. He introduced one detailed law after another to reduce how often he was consulted on legal matters, which worked well for his time, but as future generations came and went and the country became more modern, these laws became outdated. Still, the people had to follow them.

The king of a new generation had wanted nothing more than to eradicate the laws, but there were many nobles who wanted to keep them as a matter of tradition. Thus began an unending dispute. Decades passed in this state, and every spat among duchies resulted in calls to nullify what some considered to be archaic laws. It wasn’t long before the yearly Archduke Conference descended into a state of what could only be called utter chaos.

In the end, it was collectively agreed that the laws were best kept ambiguous. Any excessively detailed rules were removed, and individual problems were instead dealt with through discussion. Ever since then, those who called for more detailed laws were mocked as having been “charmed by the Goddess of Chaos.”

I had wondered why the rules went unchanged during such a prolonged period of chaos—surely it was better to change them if discord was expected to continue either way—but rewriting laws was more complicated than I realized. As it turned out, the process took an exceedingly long time, and it was a lot of work for the king to determine which sections to keep and to remove.

And after so much debate, what they ended up with were these unclear as heck laws...

During a conversation with Ferdinand, I had muttered that having such vague laws only made the resolving of disputes a more drawn-out process. In response, he had muttered that having less restrictive rules was more convenient for those in power. It was a fair point indeed.

It was hard to understand why the laws existed at all, but their ambiguity at least made them easier to remember. I just needed to memorize universal rules which would absolutely never change, rules that allowed for some leeway depending on the king’s judgment, rules that were decided in discussions between archdukes, and rules that archdukes could decide on their own.

Compared to all the library and patent laws I had to learn in college back in my Urano days, however, this is a piece of cake.

Everyone turned in their papers, and we began studying for tomorrow’s classes. As we waited to receive our grades, I noticed that the professors had started arguing at the front. One of the proctors, Fraularm, was calling it suspicious that we had all finished so quickly and with such high scores, while the other professors chastised her, saying there was nothing suspicious about it at all.

Despite us having turned in our papers first, the second and third duchies to finish received their passing grades before us, while we were made to wait. The tension must have started getting to the others; Philine couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper.

“Lady Rozemyne... Lord Wilfried...”

“We’re going to be fine, Philine,” Wilfried said. “We know for a fact that we haven’t cheated. Hold your head high and be patient.”

“You and the others worked hard for an entire year; it’s only natural that you’d achieve high grades,” I added. And no sooner had the words left my mouth than a voice rang through the auditorium: “All passing grades for Ehrenfest.”

It had taken the professors some time to reach an agreement, but we had all passed—and we could tell from Fraularm’s shrieks that we had done so with aplomb. Our actual grades were usually kept from us, so it was nice to know that we had all done so well.

We put away our things and rose from our seats, ready to return to the dormitory. Before we could, however, a group of emerald-green-caped students from Drewanchel stepped in front of us.

“Seems like you guys are having another good year, Wilfried.”

“Ortwin! I appreciate the compliment, but I could say the same about Drewanchel.”

I took a step back and watched as Wilfried and Ortwin nobly extolled each other’s victories. Everyone in Ortwin’s group looked pretty smart, but maybe that was just because I knew Drewanchel was a duchy known for producing highly skilled scholars in droves.

“Drewanchel has taken first place in overall grades for about twenty consecutive years,” Ortwin said with a confident grin. “Your grades might be getting better, Ehrenfest, but we won’t lose that easily.”

Ooh. They don’t just look smart; they actually are smart, I thought. I was pretty sure that the only way to maintain top overall grades was for the duchy’s students to unite as one and all study together.

“Lord Ortwin, we really must be going now,” one of the green-capes said.

“Ah. Indeed. Wilfried, let’s both keep up the good work,” Ortwin said, snapping back to reality. He flourished his emerald-green cape and then exited the auditorium, taking the Drewanchel crowd with him.

“It’s nice having a rival to compete against,” Wilfried said with a contented grin as he watched them go. He then swung his ocher cape in a similar flourish and followed them out.

We headed back to the dormitory for lunch to find that a section of the older apprentice knights and apprentice scholars had already returned. It seemed that the years with written lessons had all successfully passed on their first day.

“Written lessons certainly were easy this year.”

“Indeed. Our victory over the knights is all but guaranteed.”

I was overjoyed to hear that as a member of the Better Grades Committee. I had to admit, it was impressive just how competitive people were when it came to our team-based contest.

“I have delivered your letter to Professor Solange, milady. She was surprised to receive it; this is the first time someone has ever requested a meeting on the same day that classes begin. We may go and register the first-years at noon the day after tomorrow.”

“Can we use that time to change Schwartz’s and Weiss’s clothes, I wonder?” As far as I was concerned, the sooner we could dress them in their new outfits, the better.

Rihyarda fell into thought for a moment. “We must inform Professor Hirschur of when we will be changing their clothes,” she said, “and Professor Solange is going to be busy registering the first-years. Not to mention, I do not believe you will have enough time to do all of this during your noon break. I would recommend that you focus on registering the first-years and supplying the tools with mana for now. You can change their clothes when everyone has more time in their schedules.”

She had a point. There was no need for me to rush changing their clothes, so I decided to settle for supplying them with mana for the time being.

After an enthusiastic lunch spent chatting about our test results, we saw off Charlotte and the other first-years, calling out words of encouragement as they went to do their exams. We then headed out ourselves, ready to attend our practical lessons. These were held in different classrooms depending on status, so my group dropped in number dramatically.

“Hey everyone,” Wilfried said with a smile as he greeted the archduke candidates and archnobles from other duchies. He was rejoicing over their reunion and enthusiastic about their spending another school period together, which made me realize just how behind I was when it came to socializing. I had finished all of my classes in one go, only showing up a single time, so I couldn’t remember their names or faces. In truth, they probably didn’t remember me either.

I know I should probably socialize more, but... If my choice is between that and the library...

Once again, I was forbidden from entering the library until after I passed my classes, but that was temporary. If you asked me to choose between the library and socializing with other students, I would pick the library every time.

I’m the bookworm who reads in the library, while Wilfried is the popular guy with lots of friends. It’s the perfect way to divide our duties, if you ask me. We’re both playing to our strengths.

Not to mention, it wasn’t as though I had avoided socializing entirely. I had a wonderful friend named Hannelore. My most important duty was deepening my bond with her and making more bookworm friends.

I made one bookworm friend in my first year, so hopefully I can make two bookworm friends in my second.

As I was plotting out how to make more friends this year, four professors entered the room: Hirschur, Fraularm, Primevere, and Rauffen.

“Today, we are going to be reviewing topics covered in your first year, such as handling highbeasts, transforming schtappes, and casting rott,” Hirschur announced. “One cannot properly learn new techniques without first mastering the old.”

“Now then, take out your highbeasts,” Fraularm called.

We all did as we were instructed, and the Small Hall became twice as cramped in an instant. The speed at which students produced their highbeasts indicated how much practice they had. Some produced theirs instantly, while others needed a little more time to properly form the shape.

Lessy still stood out a little, but there were several other girls who now had similar-looking drivable highbeasts. They wasted no time climbing inside. Of the drivable highbeasts, most were shumils, likely because that was what Hirschur had produced during her initial demonstration, and they all used reins instead of steering wheels.

“Finished,” Hannelore said with a short exhale. Her highbeast was a drivable shumil too. It was fairly small, since it was sized to accommodate just her, and its face was very cute. No doubt she loved shumils to death.

Lady Hannelore would probably get along with Lieseleta...

They were both passionate about shumils, and they both looked perfect wearing cute accessories. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Lady Hannelore had a talent for embroidery and sewing.

Once the professors had confirmed that everyone had made their highbeasts, they moved on to having us morph our schtappes. Rauffen stood in front while the other professors stayed back and kept a close eye on us.

“Alright, take out your schtappes!” he called. His booming voice echoed throughout the Small Hall, and everyone promptly did as they were told.

Holy cow! Talk about a lot of crests!

I had assumed that only Wilfried made a crest-decorated schtappe to gush about, but it seemed they were in fashion among the boys. Some had the crests stuck onto their wand-shaped schtappes like stickers, while others like Wilfried had them physically engraved.

“Why so surprised, Rozemyne?” Wilfried asked. “You look like you’ve seen something funny.”

“I simply did not expect schtappes with crests to be so popular,” I replied.

“Actually, I’m the one who started the trend,” Wilfried noted as he proudly waved his lion-hilted schtappe. “Makes sense that you don’t know, considering how fast you finished your classes.”

I had kind of guessed that Wilfried would start a trend of sorts with his over-the-top schtappe, but I had never expected his influence to be this great.

“Not many girls seem to have crests,” I observed.

“Yeah. Some wanted them, but Lady Hannelore said it wasn’t a wise idea. You can’t really blame her. We’re all archduke candidates and archnobles, so most of the girls here are going to be marrying out of their duchies.”

Hmm... They could always use subtler and more personal symbols instead.

Back in Japan, there had been maternal symbols passed down from mother to daughter even when they wed into other families and had their last name changed. I was sure that girls here could use such symbols on their schtappes so long as they made it clear they were a maternal tradition or some such.

Not that I really care. I have no intention of using one myself.

Perhaps I could advise Charlotte on maternal symbols so that she could teach the concept to any first-year girls who wanted a crest on their schtappe.

“Once you have formed your schtappes, practice morphing them,” Rauffen continued. “If you can’t do this, you can’t brew. Messer!”

Everyone repeated the chant to morph their schtappes and then said “rucken” to revert them back to their original shapes. We then said “stylo” to make a pen and “beimen” to make a mixing stick. This process took some longer than others, but we all managed it successfully.

“Alright. Last step—the emergency signal. Rott!” Rauffen shouted.

Everyone fired red lights out of their schtappes at his command. I could understand the necessity of learning to morph one’s schtappe early, since it was necessary for brewing practice, but I still found it weird that we were taught “rott” before almost anything else.

Because, I mean, emergency signals aren’t something the average person needs that often, right?

I had thought that one could just carry a magic tool with them for shooting out warning signals, but Ferdinand had casually answered that mystery for me with a single line: “Without everyone knowing ‘rott,’ treasure-stealing ditter would be even more dangerous than it already is.”

It was something that I hadn’t really considered, since it was only recently that treasure-stealing ditter had stopped being played, and students now obtained their schtappes during their first year. “Rott” had been much more necessary during the era when one received their schtappes in their third year, after starting a specialized course, and apprentice scholars participated in ditter games alongside the apprentice knights to make and activate magic tools.

I suppose treasure-stealing ditter is just that dangerous...

“Good,” Rauffen said. “Seems like you’ve all been practicing. We can move on to the next step now.” He looked over the gathered students with a smile of satisfaction, at which point Hirschur leisurely walked to the front. She would be taking the lead from here.

“We will now study the fundamentals of brewing. As second-years, you will need to craft rejuvenation potions, ordonnanzes, and feystones for proposing to someone. These will all prove necessary to your lives going forward,” she said.

It seemed that the more specialized practical lessons awaiting us in our third year and beyond required enough mana that we would need potions for each class. We were the ones who would suffer if we didn’t at least learn to make them on our own.

Ordonnanzes were likewise necessary for nobles to speak to one another. Those who only had one would find themselves unable to contact anyone else until they received a response, so it was normal to carry several at all times.

Then there was the engagement feystone. It was necessary for the man and woman who wished to get married to give these stones to one another, and those who were unable to make them simply couldn’t propose at all.

“Our focus for today is simply learning how to make engagement feystones, so you are going to be working with low-quality feystones. These are going to be of no value whatsoever, despite your conceptions of what a proposal feystone should be. When it comes time for you to actually propose, you will want to make one out of the highest quality feystone you can acquire by your own means,” Hirschur said, her smile widening as she spoke. “Some may think it is too early for you all to be learning this, but they are also convenient for forming more casual relationships and requesting escorts for the graduation ceremony. I know of one fine young man who gifted the feystone he made here to his young sweetheart, against his parents’ approval. After all, it was a mere practice feystone, not one for a true proposal.”

Oh yeah... I think I remember a scene like that in Royal Academy Love Stories, which Mother wrote.

As I recalled the contents of the book, I saw the girls about me listening to the tale of romance with sparkling eyes and clasped hands. It was amusing to see the boys barely reacting in comparison.

Seems like Mother’s romance stories know their demographic well. Hello, future customers.

The ingredients that Hirschur had prepared were lined up in front of us, and we were told to collect our own from the gathering spot near our dormitories.

“We will be brewing a rejuvenation potion during our next lesson,” Hirschur said. “Take care not to forget your ingredients.”