Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 4.7 - Chapter 2

Dinner and a Tea Party

“Ottilie, do send this letter to the Royal Academy,” I said, meaning that I wanted it given to the knight guarding the teleportation room. It was a letter to Hartmut, asking him to gather ingredients from the regenerated gathering spot.

Upon seeing who the letter was addressed to, Ottilie made a worried expression. “Lady Rozemyne, how is Hartmut doing at the Royal Academy?” she asked. “Is he bothering the others, by chance?”

“Hartmut puts a tremendous amount of effort into gathering information and laying foundations for me, on top of diligently writing reports for my adoptive father,” I replied. “There is no mistaking that he is having a grand time at the Royal Academy. I could feel just how energetic he is through the reports I read today.”

My aim was simply to relieve Ottilie’s concerns, so I said no more on the subject. I could hardly tell her that Hartmut was starstruck by my repairing of the gathering spot and praised the gods in a fervor over me truly being a saint.

“Milady, it’s about time for dinner,” Rihyarda said. “Please put down your pen.”

I obliged and stood up. At dinner tonight, I was going to be speaking with Bonifatius about the ternisbefallen hunt.

But what should I say...? Hartmut’s report makes it sound like I was right in the thick of it all. Won’t Grandfather be disappointed to learn the truth?

My internal debate continued even when I arrived at the dinner table. Ferdinand was in attendance as well. Bonifatius was seated next to me, and I answered his questions while we ate.

“And so, from Roderick’s words alone, Leonore deduced that we were dealing with a ternisbefallen,” I explained. “I departed posthaste to bless everyone’s weapons with Darkness, but when we arrived at the gathering spot, we found it empty. The battle had moved to the forest, as Matthias and the others who had accompanied Roderick on his gathering had already lured it away. By the time we reached them, groups led by Matthias and Wilfried were stalling the now massive ternisbefallen. It was larger than Roderick had reported due to Traugott having struck it with a full-power attack.”

“Traugott, you say?” The smile disappeared from Bonifatius’s face and was replaced with a grave seriousness. “Hm...”

“Ah, but, er... He was not really to blame,” I said, hurriedly trying to defend Traugott. “The students had not yet learned what attributes ternisbefallens have.”

Karstedt grimaced; he was listening in while standing behind Sylvester as his guard knight. “That’s not an excuse, I’m afraid,” he said. “It’s on him for being too shortsighted to see the significance of Matthias and the others buying time without attacking. There were no issues this time, since everyone survived, but what could you say in his defense if the enlarged ternisbefallen had claimed several students’ lives?”

In essence, he was saying that such a tragedy had only been avoided because of the skilled students who had covered for Traugott’s mistake. I shook my head, unable to argue with that.

“We began attacking once everyone had the God of Darkness’s blessing,” I said, continuing my explanation. “I joined in, firing my water gun, but I was unable to hit the ternisbefallen even a single time. It seemed entirely focused on avoiding my attacks...”

“That comes as no surprise,” Ferdinand said, raising an eyebrow. “As far as I can understand from your explanation, this so-called ‘water gun’ of yours fires mana, correct? Weapons with the God of Darkness’s blessing steal twice as much mana from the enemy as they were infused with. It is only natural that it would focus on you more than anyone else.”

“Indeed, Rozemyne,” Bonifatius added. “You were a greater threat to the ternisbefallen than anyone else, and it was so distracted trying to evade your attacks that it became full of openings for others to exploit, right? You contributed a lot more to the fight than you know. Well done.”

Bonifatius was the pinnacle of strength, so receiving his praise was like being recognized as super strong myself. I leaned toward him slightly, pleased to hear that I had been of some use, and said, “Would stopping it in place with the God of Darkness’s cape count as contributing too?”

“The God of Darkness’s cape?” he repeated.

“The ternisbefallen was watching me too closely for any of my attacks to land, so I thought I should block its vision. I turned my water gun into the God of Darkness’s cape, which I then used to cover its head... but of course, I no longer had a weapon then, so I couldn’t even go in for the kill.”

“Did you just say that you changed your weapon?” Karstedt asked. He was the first to react.

“Yes,” I replied, “since you can change the form of your weapon without canceling the God of Darkness’s blessing.”

“No, you cannot. Once you turn something into a black weapon, it can’t be changed back until after it is dispelled.”

I looked to Ferdinand for an explanation.

“That may be one difference between spells and blessings...” he said. “I am highly interested in researching what other dissimilarities there may be, but it is rare for knights to need to change weapons in the middle of a trombe hunt. There will presumably be no need for them to memorize the prayers now.”

According to Ferdinand, spells were prayers that had deliberately been simplified and shortened over time to be better used in battle. This meant that, even if prayers allowed one to change their weapon, they were still much less convenient overall.

“You can use the divine instruments, Rozemyne?” Bonifatius asked.

“Yes, Grandfather. They are very familiar to me, thanks to my temple upbringing. Is something wrong with that?”

“No. It’s just surprising. I don’t know anyone else who can freely use the divine instruments,” he replied. “Not everyone raised in the temple is alike, I see...”

Apparently, none of the blue priests who had risen to become knights had ever used divine instruments. The only blue priest-turned-knight I was aware of was the now deceased Shikza, so all I could say to that was, “Why don’t they use them when they are so convenient?”

Seeing my confusion, Ferdinand set down his cutlery, looking clearly exasperated. “Normal nobles do not visit the temple, so they neither see nor touch the divine instruments. Being raised in the temple is also considered a stain on one’s reputation, so no former blue priest would consider using a divine instrument as their own weapon, lest it remind others of their upbringing. And, above all else, divine instruments require an enormous amount of mana to use—an unnecessarily large burden for an average priest-turned-knight to bear.”

“Not to mention,” Karstedt added, “they have complex magic circles and decorations that are much too hard to replicate.”

Sylvester nodded. “I’ve seen them on the shrines before, but I wouldn’t be able to remember them clearly enough,” he said.

“In addition to all this, Rozemyne—you are the only person who would view the divine instruments as little more than convenient tools to use,” Ferdinand added. “They are meant to be wielded by the gods themselves; most would be too humble to use them as personal weapons.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you, Ferdinand!” I snapped. “You use them as ‘convenient tools’ way more than I do!” He was the one who had given me Leidenschaft’s spear as a weapon and taught me how to use the God of Darkness’s cape, so I was entirely against him trying to saddle me with the blame.

“I recall saying that you should use the cape as a last resort—as the ultimate ace up your sleeve,” he replied. “I did not anticipate that you would use it for something as moronic as blocking a creature’s sight because it continued to dodge your attacks. Fool.”

“Ngh... I’m sorry.”

One could use the God of Darkness’s cape to absorb mana from an opponent, and with that in mind, Ferdinand had told me to use it sparingly—when I was backed into a corner and without any mana. Instead, I had decided to use it because I needed a really big cloth. It seemed our conversation wasn’t going in my favor, so I swiftly retreated to our original focus.

“Putting aside the question of using divine instruments as weapons for now, I succeeded in blocking the ternisbefallen’s vision, and with a triple attack from Cornelius, Wilfried, and Traugott, we succeeded in defeating the beast. I was not awarded too many contribution points, so I decided to leave the ingredient gathering to Cornelius and Roderick while I went to regenerate the gathering spot.”

“One moment, Rozemyne.” Bonifatius stopped me with a stern expression as I tried to move on from the cape. “You blessed everyone’s weapons with Darkness, drew the ternisbefallen’s attention, and then froze it in place by obscuring its vision. You should have received more contribution points than anyone.”

I stared at him quizzically. If that really was the case, nobody had said anything at the time. Everyone had agreed that Cornelius contributed the most, with Wilfried taking second place. Considering that I had only received ingredients for Roderick’s feystone, surely my contribution points hadn’t been that high.

“Are contribution points not distributed based on the amount of damage done?” I asked.

“Setting the stage for inflicting damage is what matters most!” Bonifatius passionately replied. “Judging by what you’ve said, you and Leonore contributed the most—her by immediately identifying the feybeast as a ternisbefallen, and you by giving everyone the means to start hurting it. If you give points based on damage alone, then more impatient idiots like Traugott will start charging headlong into danger, hoping to get more credit.”

The knights had apparently chosen an incorrect system for distributing contribution points. I looked to Sylvester and Karstedt for second opinions, and they both agreed that the knights had been in the wrong.

“Bonifatius is right—by focusing only on who inflicts the most damage, they’re encouraging students to rush in alone,” Karstedt said. “At this rate, they’ll never learn to cooperate properly.”

“This must be another downside to speed ditter being the only kind of ditter played nowadays,” Bonifatius said with annoyance. “We’ll need to reteach them about contribution points too. What rubbish is the Royal Academy even teaching these days?”

His words reminded me of the knights’ written lessons. “There was a study guide for distributing contribution points, so I imagine the proper system was taught in class,” I said. “The problem seems to be the way they’re taught it—the examples they learn during lessons are so unlike what they actually experience that they never truly understand. Leonore said something to that effect last year.”

“Cornelius was the one who decided on the points this time, and the biggest problem is that no one pointed out his mistake. Seems like they all need to be reeducated...” Bonifatius said. His special training for the apprentices was far from over, apparently.

I spent the next few days reading the book I had borrowed from Hannelore, and soon enough, it was time for my tea party with Elvira and Florencia. It would only be the three of us this time, and considering that Elvira and Florencia were basically my socializing instructors, things were a little tense.

“It’s unfortunate that you were ordered to return here so soon,” Florencia said. “No doubt you were looking forward to socializing with your friends.”

I can’t reveal that Lady Hannelore is basically my only friend and that being summoned back to Ehrenfest isn’t a particularly big deal as a result. Oh, and I definitely can’t say that I would have avoided socializing entirely to spend all my time in the library, if possible!

Feeling a cold sweat run down my back, I lowered my eyes with as much forced melancholy as I could manage. “It cannot be helped; I made far too many blunders with Prince Hildebrand.”

“I told Sylvester not to scold you too harshly,” Florencia noted. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?”

Wow. I had been wondering why I was getting shouted at so less often this year, and now I had my answer—as it turned out, Florencia had scolded Sylvester when he was preparing to lecture me into the ground. “It will only stifle her growth if you ignore her accomplishments—raising our duchy’s grades, increasing our influence in the Royal Academy, and establishing bonds with greater duchies that we previously lacked—simply to home in on her mistakes,” she had said.

“Of course,” Florencia continued with a kind smile, “that is not to say that your socializing has no problems whatsoever. There is much for you to learn. However, that is a separate issue from your triumphs going unrecognized. We are all aware that you were raised in the temple and therefore lack the common sense expected of nobles, so it is up to us to instruct you in these matters.”

In a shocking twist, I was informed that Florencia had come down hard on Ferdinand and said to him, “We may scold her if she fails to do what we have taught her, but for mistakes that stem from things we have overlooked, we must first scold ourselves for failing as teachers.”

“Compared to last year, there has been a noticeable improvement in your socializing skills,” Florencia said. “You are capable of working hard for our duchy’s sake, Rozemyne, so I am not particularly worried.”

Florencia is starting to seem like a saint—no, a holy mother!

She gave me the encouragement that my guardians hadn’t, moving me beyond words. I smiled at her, and she gave me a simply divine smile in return.

“Please make many friends in the Royal Academy,” Florencia went on. “Close friends are an invaluable treasure. Even during the Archduke Conference, diplomacy will change dramatically based on whether you have socialized with others there.”

“I-I will do my best,” I replied.

But, Florencia... that’s a very big ask!

I understood that she was telling me to make friends for my own sake after saving me from my guardians’ furious lectures, which made it all the more difficult for me to just read books instead.

Aah! Her hopes for me are too heavy of a burden! And that smile! No, no, no, no! I just want to reeead!

I took a sip of tea to hide my internal screaming.

Elvira, who had been listening to us quietly, set down her cup and sighed. It seemed that she was on the verge of complaining about something or another—a habit of hers that I had picked up on while having tea with her before my baptism.

The question is, will she be complaining about her husband or one of her sons?

“At least you are showing effort and care, Rozemyne. I only wish that much could be said about the brides of our family.”

Oh! The brides!

Elvira looked at Angelica, who was standing behind me as a guard knight. “Angelica thinks only of getting stronger, and Eckhart hardly seems to care about marriage either. During social occasions, they simply stand to the side and smile, making no attempt to interact with others at all. Do you believe they might fix themselves up a bit after marriage, dear?”

“Angelica will never change,” I said. “I cannot even imagine a time when she might proactively socialize or host any events. That is why her parents advised against the marriage, is it not? I believe you should not expect so much from them.”

Elvira let out a defeated sigh in response. “I know, I know.”

Angelica, meanwhile, gave a beaming smile. “That’s Lady Rozemyne for you—she understands me so well. I don’t think I’ll be able to change that easily either.”

“Why do you only ever speak eagerly at times like this, Angelica?”

Angelica had so little interest in marriage that it was safe to say she didn’t care at all, and while Elvira had told Eckhart to search for a first wife, he had refused, saying that it would be bad for his reputation to look for another woman while already being engaged to Angelica. He had ultimately said that he would only start looking for a first wife about three years after his marriage.

Angelica’s wedding was planned for when she was around twenty years old—the age at which it became harder for women to marry. By saying that he intended to wait another three years after that, he presumably meant that he never planned to take a first wife.

“Eckhart has given his name to Lord Ferdinand, has he not?” Elvira said. “He cannot become the knight commander as a result, nor can he inherit our house. I suppose I should just be glad that he is thinking of marrying at all, but... there is the matter of Aurelia too.” She shook her head. “The problem is not her ability to socialize, as she has proven she is more than capable, but rather getting her into social situations to begin with. I might have to give up on that entirely for now; there is not much that can be done about it, I suppose.”

“Erm, Mother... Did something happen to Aurelia?” I asked, concerned. Elvira and Florencia exchanged glances, giggled, and then lowered their voices.

“She has conceived,” Florencia said.

“Wha?”

“She is with child, Rozemyne,” Elvira reiterated. I widened my eyes, and they both nodded silently in confirmation.

“Is it a boy or a girl...?” I asked. “I will need to prepare books as gifts. Toys as well. There are so many things I can provide.”

“Do calm down. Her pregnancy was only recently discovered. We do not yet know whether the birth will come to full term.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

Elvira explained that it was not easy to provide babies with a continuous stream of mana. Those who received too little were likely to be born with only a small amount of mana, but conversely, those who received too much at once were prone to being miscarried. The latter situation wasn’t good for the mother’s body either.

It was important not to give the baby too much mana prior to its birth, but at the same time, a newborn would receive extremely different treatment based on its mana quantity. I was left speechless; I struggled to remember the last time I had felt this kind of culture shock.

Nobles sure don’t have it easy...

“Children are never made public before their baptisms, so do keep this to yourself,” Elvira said. I nodded cautiously; she was effectively saying it was impossible to know what might happen to the baby depending on its mana quantity.

“Putting aside whether the baby is born, Aurelia does not seem fond of socializing, so Elvira must pin her hopes on Leonore,” Florencia said, shifting the topic of conversation away from Aurelia. “Leonore is an Ehrenfest archnoble of the same faction, so she will most likely be trained to handle faction politics as Elvira’s successor.”

“Hm? Leonore?” I blinked, unsure why she was being brought up now, of all times.

“She is Cornelius’s partner, no? I am told they are keeping their relationship a secret so as to avoid hindering their work, but did you not notice nonetheless?”

“Not at all...” I replied. I had sensed that Leonore was crushing on him, but not that she had actually taken her shot and scored. Neither of them had shown any indication of anything happening between them. “Now that I think about it, I seem to recall them doing more guard duty together as of late... Wait, am I the only one who didn’t know about this? Mother, do you know what brought them together?”

“I do not know the details myself. No matter how much I ask, he simply replies that he refuses to be turned into a book like Lamprecht.”

I could understand how Cornelius felt, but surely he understood that he was only delaying the inevitable.

“Do Leonore’s relatives know?” I asked. “We will need to speak to them, will we not?”

“They have known from the moment she began preparing clothes to attend Cornelius’s graduation ceremony. I have spoken to her mother about this often. Cornelius visited them briefly as well.”

Surprisingly enough, it seemed that Cornelius had already laid all of the proper groundwork. There had apparently been plenty of time for him to do this, what with how often I was in the temple.

“I was aware that he was trying to keep it a secret from you, Rozemyne, but I see he was quite thorough indeed,” Florencia said with a giggle. “I would expect nothing less from Elvira’s son.”

It was through Eckhart that Elvira had found out about Ferdinand’s days in the Royal Academy. Cornelius, knowing this, had been more on guard against me than anyone, since I was in a position to learn all sorts of things about him and was highly susceptible to Elvira’s influence.

“According to Cornelius’s letter, he plans to formally greet Leonore’s parents once she has finished her classes and while you are busy with the Dedication Ritual,” Elvira said. “I intend to use that opportunity to wring as much information from him as possible—although I do not expect it to be easy, considering how much his guard is up.”

“I can understand why he would be cautious with me, given the position I’m in, but did he really have to be so thorough?” I asked. “This seems downright excessive. Is there something more to it?”

“He said that if you learned about him choosing Leonore, you would always assign them together at work, ensure that they sit together at meals, and generally make it so obvious that everyone would tease him to death.”

I averted my eyes; that was absolutely the case. It seemed that he wanted to keep their relationship hidden until just before graduation, since there would be fewer embarrassing situations for him to endure once he was out of the Academy.

“He is less worried about his own discomfort, since he is soon to graduate,” Florencia explained. “Rather, he is worried about Leonore, who is going to be in the Royal Academy for another year. Do be considerate toward them, Rozemyne.”

“I will take great care,” I replied with a nod.

Florencia’s gaze turned to Elvira. “And you as well, Elvira,” she said. “I know that your romantic Royal Academy Love Stories is quite popular, but if you do not wait until they have both graduated, will you not be making things miserable for Leonore, trapping her in the dormitory with no escape?” Her indigo eyes softened into a smile. “I am sure that Leonore will speak of these flowery days herself during a tea party in the future.”

“I suppose. I have already collected quite a few romance stories, so there is no need to hurry. I shall exercise patience and wait,” Elvira said, but her dark eyes were burning with a passion that made it clear she would wrench every last secret from Cornelius and Leonore the moment they showed even the slightest weakness.

“That reminds me,” I said. “Lady Hannelore of Dunkelfelger expressed high praise for our romance-heavy knight stories. I allowed her to borrow a copy of Royal Academy Love Stories during a tea party we had and told her apprentice scholars that I am willing to buy Dunkelfelger romance stories from them. We may be getting new material very soon.”

“Splendid work, Rozemyne,” Elvira said, her eyes sparkling. As expected, the Royal Academy was indeed the best place to gather stories from other duchies, and the more stories from different school years that one acquired, the harder it was to tell which were based on whom. Greater anonymity would inspire even more people to share stories—or so Elvira said at the height of a very passionate speech.

“Royal Academy Love Stories sells more than any other book printed in Haldenzel,” Elvira explained. “Thus, my book writing is all for the sake of my birthplace.”

It seemed that Haldenzel had more or less become a printing industry focused entirely on romance novels. I understood that they needed the sales because of how harsh the cold was on their land, but I was still impressed that Giebe Haldenzel had given his permission for such a thing, considering how stern he looked.

“Oh, that reminds me—the Haldenzel Miracle is quite the popular topic this winter,” Florencia noted. She was regarding me with a meaningful smile as she spoke, but I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

“What is this Haldenzel Miracle?” I asked.

“You reviving their ancient ceremonies,” she replied.

During their last Spring Prayer, I had seen the men singing and pointed out that, in the bible, it was the goddesses who sung. Giebe Haldenzel had taken my advice and gotten the women to sing instead, and as a result, Verdrenna the Goddess of Thunder had worked hard to melt all of the province’s snow overnight. The weather had turned to that which would normally be considered the beginning of summer in Haldenzel, and this event had subsequently come to be known as “the Haldenzel Miracle” to the socializing nobles.

“You say that I revived ancient ceremonies, but I don’t deserve that much credit. Was it not Giebe Haldenzel who decided to follow the bible’s customs, and the province’s women who performed and provided their mana?”

“It certainly was, but, well...”

Elvira smiled and told me how things had progressed in Haldenzel this year. Farmwork had apparently begun earlier than usual thanks to the snow melting overnight, and their harvest had practically doubled as a result.

Of course, Verdrenna’s blessing had not extended beyond Haldenzel—as I had seen for myself when returning home by highbeast. The neighboring provinces had all experienced regular weather, which had resulted in Giebe Haldenzel receiving a lot of questions from the other giebes. He had made no mention of his own involvement in the incident and simply responded that it was a miracle brought about by the Saint of Ehrenfest.

Don’t put it like that! You’re not Hartmut!

“And so, various giebes are flooding us with requests to meet with you and with questions about ancient ceremonies,” Elvira concluded. “What will you do, Rozemyne?”

“Tell them to speak with Giebe Haldenzel. There aren’t any more answers for me to give,” I replied, rejecting any meetings.

Florencia, who had not seen the ceremony in Haldenzel, looked at me curiously. “Did you not advise him on what to do?” she asked.

“I simply pointed out that the roles of men and women had switched over the countless years,” I said. “It was the people of Haldenzel who had preserved the ancient lyrics not saved anywhere else and continued the ceremony itself. I had noticed that their lyrics matched the poems in the bible, but reading the bible alone had not been enough for me to realize it was being used as a song in a ceremony. Although I performed with the others at the giebe’s request, I was clueless as to where and when everyone was supposed to stand. In fact, I was the only one who stayed prone on the ceremonial stage.”

All in all, it was really hard to credit me for this miracle.

“Not to mention,” I continued, “having me meet with the other giebes would only end in them asking me to visit for their next Spring Prayer, no?”

“That would certainly be their primary objective. All giebes and their people pray for spring to arrive as soon as possible,” Elvira said. She had grown up in Haldenzel, the province with the longest winter in Ehrenfest, and she explained just how much the northern provinces yearned for the melting of the snow. It was entirely understandable—even in the Noble’s Quarter, Ehrenfest winters were significantly longer than they were in Japan.

“However, I cannot attend every province’s Spring Prayer ceremony,” I said. “I visited Haldenzel this year because I needed to bring the Gutenbergs, but I have no plans to visit anywhere next spring.”

Blue priests needed to visit provinces too. It was impossible for me to travel to them all myself, considering my lack of time and stamina.

“A part of me does want to go to Haldenzel, as I expect to be able to read warm, freshly printed books amid the chilly air...” I mused aloud. “However, traveling there and there alone each year could easily be interpreted as favoritism, which would cause problems moving forward, no?”

“It certainly would,” Florencia replied. “Your visits to Haldenzel must be kept to a minimum. That said... I see that your desire to visit is not for Spring Prayer, but instead to read.” She gave a refined giggle, but what else would motivate me to go somewhere?

“I would like for all meetings requested due to the Haldenzel Miracle to be refused,” I said. “If the giebes of other provinces wish to know about the ceremony and stage, they will receive more detailed answers from Giebe Haldenzel.”

Elvira nodded. “I understand your position, Rozemyne. I will direct giebes wishing to know about the ceremony to my brother. And speaking of which—here. A gift from Haldenzel. It is a collection of new romance stories written by my friend and me.”

I received the newly printed book from Elvira, looked it over, and then said what came to mind. “Mother, please urge Giebe Haldenzel to begin printing the lyrics for the ritual and selling them to other giebes. You have the necessary printing presses, and this way, the lyrics can be preserved in other provinces as well.”

Elvira widened her eyes, then nodded with a laugh. “It is much like you to suggest selling them, rather than simply distributing them for the purpose of preservation.”

“It is valuable information that Haldenzel carefully retained for many years, no? I think their efforts deserve a suitable price.”

After the tea party, I swiftly read the new book in my room. One of the love stories was a sad one about a laynoble who fell in love with the daughter of a giebe and worked desperately to increase his mana quantity for her, only for their romance to ultimately fall through.

Yeeeah, this is about Damuel...

Some creative liberties had obviously been taken—their names were changed, Brigitte was turned into the daughter of a giebe rather than his little sister, and it was ultimately the fact that Damuel had given his name that ended their relationship, rather than the fact he was serving a member of the archducal family. At its very core, though, the story was the same.

During the climax, when Damuel was made to choose between his beloved and the lord to whom he had given his name, a storm from the gods threw the scene into disarray, reflecting the depth of his pain. A goddess then descended to intone poetry and sweep her wide sleeves, bringing forth rain that withered the flowers it fell upon. Given the context, I could tell that it was symbolic of the agony of a broken heart, but I couldn’t quite grasp the intensity it was trying to convey.

But I could follow the plot this time, at least...