Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.5 - Chapter 2

Divine Protections All Around

“Sylvester. Grandfather. I’m glad to see you both.”

I had told Sylvester that I wanted to discuss something when he came for the ritual, and he had arrived with Bonifatius in tow. The latter’s distaste for the temple must have diminished since his previous visit.

Melchior and I guided our two visitors and their retainers to the High Bishop’s chambers, then gave them tea and sweets while asking about the castle. I had already received a report from Philine and Clarissa in my library, and my other retainers had given me information too, but it was important to hear things from a variety of perspectives.

Everyone in Sylvester’s sphere was fully dedicated to preparing for the Archduke Conference. He mentioned that I should praise Clarissa in particular, since she was working especially hard to get Ehrenfest ready for its negotiations with Dunkelfelger.

“Naturally, we can’t give her full access to everything when she’s only recently come of age and hasn’t even married into Ehrenfest yet,” Sylvester said. “Leberecht is limiting what information she’s given, and she’ll only be attending our discussion with Dunkelfelger. Still, her passion and attention to detail are inspiring everyone around her.”

Clarissa was approaching her work with almost obsessive fervor. I wanted to believe she was trying to make up for how much trouble she had caused us all, but Hartmut had revealed that she was actually just desperate to keep her place in the Archduke Conference group, since it was the only way she would get to see me perform the Starbind Ceremony.

Well, better than not being motivated to work, I guess?

“Together with some of the scholars, the Knight’s Order has been investigating the silver cloth found at the former Giebe Gerlach’s estate,” Bonifatius said. “Laurenz and Matthias have given you an overview, I assume?”

I nodded. He was referring to the same silver cloth that Melchior had mentioned. When they first came to serve in the temple, Laurenz and Matthias had said that the cloth rejected any kind of mana, but they had told me little else; Bonifatius had apparently coerced them into silence so that he could report to me himself. In the words of my two apprentice knights, he had wanted me to invite him here to ask about the cloth. His bias against the temple was less extreme than before, but he still wasn’t willing to come without a good reason or an invitation.

“Melchior told me first,” I replied, “then I received a report from Laurenz and Matthias the next day. I still don’t quite understand what the cloth is, though. I’ve been looking forward to hearing a proper explanation from you, Grandfather.”

Bonifatius grinned. “We learned something new just yesterday. Sylvester’s already been told, so we can discuss it while he’s performing his ritual.” He turned to Sylvester and started shooing him away. “Go on, then. Knowing what your memory’s like, it won’t be long before you start forgetting the gods’ names again.”

To his credit, Sylvester didn’t get mad at all. “Desperate for some alone time with your granddaughter, huh?” he asked Bonifatius, returning a grin of his own as he stood up. “Ferdinand once said that a discussion with Rozemyne can boggle the mind, so yeah, I’ll do my ritual first. Lead the way.”

“Allow me, Father,” Melchior declared, standing up in his blue robes. “I deliberately learned the way to the chapel and prepared the offerings so that I could assist you.” Then, overflowing with motivation, he marched toward the door with his retainers.

Sylvester followed after him and said, “Tell me about the other kids. We can’t really discuss them in the castle, can we?”

I turned to Bonifatius, so eager for his report that I was leaning forward despite myself. “Now then—do tell me about this silver cloth. Laurenz and Matthias told me only that it contained no mana at all; they said that I should ask you for any further details.”

“Well, this is the cloth in question,” Bonifatius said, and pulled it out for me to see. I asked for his permission to take it, then examined it closely.

The silver cloth was about as large as the palm of my hand. One side was smooth, while the other was frayed and uneven, indicating that it was torn. Otherwise, it appeared to be a normal piece of cloth. I didn’t understand what was so strange about it.

“There’s nothing unusual about it not containing any mana, is there?” I asked. “Most of the clothes worn by commoners are made with such cloth. Even the mana-dyed kind that we nobles use slowly loses its mana over time.”

“The cloth you’re holding hasn’t simply been drained of mana, nor is its mana capacity too low for us to sense. Under such circumstances, it would have been possible to channel more mana into it or improve its capacity. Rather, that cloth contains absolutely no mana at all, and none can be poured into it.”

According to the scholars, the cloth had been made exclusively from manaless materials, using a process that likewise didn’t require any mana.

“Materials that don’t contain any mana...?” I asked. “This is my first time hearing of such a thing.”

Yurgenschmidt was enriched first with the mana of the Zent, then with the mana of the aubs and giebes across its many territories. In other words, everything contained at least some mana. One could make leather that didn’t conduct it, using materials from feybeasts or feyplants that were resistant to or reflected mana, but that was about it; the materials themselves still contained mana.

“The silver cloth found in Gerlach’s summer estate was deliberately torn,” Bonifatius said. “How strange that he would go to the effort when he was trying to escape and already short on time.”

“Perhaps he was in a rush,” I ventured. I’d assumed that he had gotten it caught in a door during his rush to leave the estate, but the looks on my knights’ faces implied that none of them agreed with me.

“In a situation where one’s cape gets caught in a door or the like, it would make much more sense to cut it with messer,” Cornelius explained. “Knights are taught to morph their schtappes as quickly as possible, and a weak scholar would surely choose a spell over brute strength.”

Tearing the cloth by hand wouldn’t have been appropriate behavior for a proper noble, and it would have wasted too much time during a last-minute escape. That was why it had caught Bonifatius’s attention.

In a situation like that, my commoner instincts would have kicked in for sure. Using my schtappe wouldn’t even have occurred to me.

“In that case, why was the cloth torn?” I asked.

“Remember how I said that it doesn’t interact with mana?” Bonifatius replied. “It cannot be cut with a schtappe-formed weapon.” He then signaled to his retainer and said, “Prepare the stand.”

At once, the retainer placed the silver cloth atop some boards stacked on the table. Bonifatius used messer to morph his schtappe into a knife, which he then brought down on the cloth with unstoppable force. There was a booming crash as the boards shattered... but the cloth atop it hadn’t even been pierced. It had done nothing to cushion the impact, but mana couldn’t pass through it at all.

“You can see now why he tore it,” Bonifatius concluded. “From there, the most troubling part of the cloth was its ability to pass through the border barrier.”

“Excuse me?”

“The aub cannot detect the passing of small amounts of mana, such as that of commoners. You remember this, I expect. It follows, then, that a cloth through which mana cannot pass at all would not be detected either.”

Curious, Bonifatius had decided to experiment. He had asked Sylvester to form a small, simple barrier, through which he had poked a finger wrapped in the silver cloth. Sylvester hadn’t been able to detect it at all.

“So... the former Giebe Gerlach could easily have escaped the duchy?” I asked.

“Exactly. We believe he used this cloth to pass through the barrier. Questions remain, however. How did he get from the Noble’s Quarter to Gerlach, and where did he get the cloth in the first place?”

I paused, racking my brain for answers. “Assuming he was completely wrapped in the cloth, could he have used a teleportation circle for objects?”

“No. The cloth contains no mana at all, so the teleportation circle would neither detect it nor activate. We tried ourselves, but nothing we wrapped in the cloth would teleport, no matter how small.”

The scholars had apparently asked the same question and, using the cloth, tried to get living things to teleport as objects. They hadn’t been successful.

“However,” Bonifatius continued, “in the hidden room where we found the cloth, we also came across traces of something having been burned. Matthias told us that his father would always burn any teleportation circles he used to commit misdeeds, so it seems very likely that he used one for something.”

“Father used magic tools to burn teleportation circles he had no further use for,” Matthias added. “I expect that he tried to burn the silver cloth as well, but its immunity to mana meant it was unaffected.”

Bonifatius crossed his arms and nodded. “Under any other circumstances, I suspect he might have been a lot more thorough about removing evidence, but he was in a room that only his blood relatives could enter. He likely never thought that Matthias would be spared, let alone that he would assist us with our investigation.”

“But aren’t relatives normally brought in to help with such investigations?” I asked. Matthias had been safe at the Royal Academy, so it seemed obvious that he would have helped out.

Bonifatius shook his head with a frown. “Opening a hidden room requires the mana of someone registered to it, so that might seem like a good idea, but such people would already be in mana-sealing bracelets. Removing said bracelets wouldn’t be an option either—by no means could we allow the relative of a criminal to enter a hidden room potentially filled with dangerous magic tools.”

The investigating knights wouldn’t know what magic tools were being stored in the hidden room or where they were being kept. Taking a relative there without the appropriate mana restraints would introduce all sorts of risks. Perhaps they would attempt a suicidal counterattack with whatever they had available.

“The best we could do by ourselves was look for evidence, and search through memories with the aub’s permission,” he explained. “Of course, the trug had greatly limited which memories we could access, and trying to view them by force risked doing serious harm to the person being searched—especially when their mana was ill matched and they were resisting the entire time. I expect that Giebe Gerlach believed he had eliminated everything that might trace back to his doings, including Matthias himself. I can say with all certainty that he did not expect his son or Laurenz to betray him to protect the children of the former Veronica faction, nor did it occur to him that the aub might offer to spare their lives. We could only include them in our investigation because they had given their names to members of the archducal family who had ordered them not to resist. They were extremely helpful, and their assistance enabled us to find valuable evidence and items. There is no mistaking that.”

Bonifatius was showering Laurenz and Matthias with praise, but I could instinctively feel the mood growing heavier. I sat up straight, suddenly more anxious than before.

He continued, “You were so determined to save these young boys’ lives that you decided to use any means necessary. That led you to propose that the children of criminals be given a chance to give their names. The aub acknowledged your suggestion, and those who went along with it were spared.”

“Lord Bonifatius, I think you are mistaken,” Hartmut interjected. “To begin with, it was the aub who—”

Bonifatius raised a hand and silenced the protest with a single glare. “Rozemyne first made the suggestion for Viscount Dahldolf, did she not? She was acting out of compassion and was relieved when so many were eventually spared. She might even have considered it a good thing.” He inhaled slowly, then gave me a stern look. “However, I want you to know that, as a consequence, some believe you have stomped on the pride and dignity of others—that you threatened them with death to acquire their servitude. Name-swearing is supposed to be a sacred act. Even now, I do not support it being used to allow the families of criminals to escape punishment.”

I recognized those eyes; Roderick had given me the same look while saying exactly the same thing. My heart grew heavy. I didn’t regret saving Matthias and the others—not in the slightest. I was glad to have found a way to spare those who hadn’t committed any crimes. Yet, at the same time, I’d never really stopped to consider how they felt. I’d never considered the fact that I was stomping on their pride.

“Now that you have set this precedent,” he went on, “others will come forth, also wanting to swear their names to avoid punishment. It might even spread to other duchies; nowhere is there such an abundance of nobles that execution is a simple task. If swearing one’s name for this reason becomes common, then those who would have given theirs out of genuine fealty will start having second thoughts, lest they be misconstrued as criminals themselves. You will have fundamentally changed the meaning of name-swearing.”

It felt as though he had just dumped a bucket of cold water over me. That reality had never even crossed my mind, and now I couldn’t keep my fists from trembling. I’d never expected this to turn into such a big issue. My only intention had been to save lives—but, at the same time, I supposed that my own naivety was to blame.

“Sylvester always permits your unique ideas,” Bonifatius said. “He even said that he would take the blame for any negative consequences they might have. In his words, his reputation is already so poor that a few new controversies would not change anything. Did you know that?”

I shook my head; Sylvester had never said anything of the sort to me. “I really am sorry... I didn’t stop to consider the consequences...”

“Rozemyne, I see your desire to save lives as nothing short of a virtue, but you must consider both the influence your authority has on society and the damage that can come from modifying traditions. As I understand it, the implementation of so many seemingly minor changes over the years is why religious ceremonies and the temple in general are now viewed so poorly. You saw with your own eyes how much something as simple as a new High Bishop can change the atmosphere of the temple.”

All of a sudden, Bonifatius seemed to relax. “But, uh... that’s enough lecturing from me, I think. No need to shed any tears. In an ideal world, it wouldn’t have fallen to me to tell you all this. Such remonstrations should come from your parents—of whom you have plenty—and your retainers share the blame for not daring to admonish you when you truly need it. I am sick of doing the dirty work and receiving so much ire for it.” He then turned to my retainers and said, “Get a grip, you lot. Pay more heed to your lady’s actions such that she doesn’t make more enemies and turn the people against her.”

“Our sincerest apologies!”

No sooner had my retainers cried out than a bell rang on the other side of the door. Sylvester’s ritual was evidently finished.

“Ahaha!” he laughed, barging through the door with a victorious grin. “I got twenty-one divine protections! Coupled with the ones I got before, I might just beat you, Rozemyne!”

The tension weighing down on us all vanished, though we struggled to immediately match Sylvester’s enthusiasm. “I... I see,” I said. “I suppose all those years of prayer really did pay off.”

“Not to mention, I got the Life element, so now I’m omni-elemental. I dunno how much prayer it takes to get new elements, but this seems pretty important, huh?”

If praying while supplying one’s foundation became customary for archducal families, I could only assume that we would all eventually become omni-elemental.

“Wait, omni-elemental?!” I exclaimed. “Does that mean you got Ewigeliebe’s divine protection?!”

“Nah, I didn’t get it from him but from the subordinates Dauerleben and Schlaftraum. There was also... Actually, um... Forget it. Not something to be said in polite company.”

Waaait. Let me guess... Beischmacht?

In socially acceptable terms, Beischmacht was most associated with vigorous nighttime endeavors. I wasn’t sure whether my guess was correct, but I wasn’t going to ask with Melchior in the room. Instead, I put on a vague smile and pretended to know.

“Anyway—they might have been subordinates, but I got plenty of Life protections from them. Did, uh... something happen, by the way? I heard your retainers apologize from all the way outside. What did Bonifatius say to them?” He carefully scanned the room, clearly more interested in changing the subject than anything else.

“I simply scolded them for not being on top of things,” Bonifatius replied, keeping the details vague. “Don’t want them thinking they can protect Rozemyne the way they’re going.”

I decided not to reveal too much either. So, rather than telling Sylvester that I now knew what great lengths he was going to for my sake, I merely offered him a seat and smiled as Fran poured some tea.

“Before my lecture, we were trying to figure out where in the world Giebe Gerlach might have gotten that cloth,” Bonifatius explained.

“I see,” Sylvester murmured. “Yeah, that’s important. It might be a new magic tool that hasn’t been announced anywhere.”

Umm... I’m not sure we can go about calling it a magic tool. It doesn’t contain any mana whatsoever.

Putting aside my pointless nitpick, I recalled what Giebe Kirnberger had said to me about Bosgeiz. “Erm, actually... I was told that feystones are seldom found in other countries, so maybe this material that doesn’t contain any mana came from one of them.” Manaless materials couldn’t be found in Yurgenschmidt, but maybe they were available in other countries.

“I haven’t heard anything about this—not even during our Archduke Conferences. Yurgenschmidt was trading with other countries up until the civil war, but I don’t remember us importing any cloth like that.”

Bonifatius nodded in agreement.

“Well, feystones were one of our country’s chief exports before the civil war,” I said. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the countries receiving them went through a lot of changes too after their supply was abruptly cut off.”

Even back on Earth, when we had started running out of oil, we had desperately begun searching for alternative energy sources. It was an extremely obvious course of action to preserve one’s existing resources while searching for something new to use. If news of the Bosgeiz gate’s closure had reached other countries, then it was possible that they had started preparing for if their own gates were closed too. They might even have decided to keep their trump cards secret instead of presenting them during the Archduke Conference.

“If the former Giebe Gerlach is alive, I can’t imagine he went anywhere but Ahrensbach,” Bonifatius mused. “Plus, Ahrensbach is the only duchy that still has an open country gate. It might still have a connection to other countries.” He paused, clearly deep in thought, then shook his head and muttered, “This kind of thinking was Ferdinand’s job.”

“Then let us ask him,” I said. “He can look into whether Lanzenave has any similar cloth. Above all else, though, we need to inform him of the dangers in Ahrensbach. Giebe Gerlach might be there now, and this mana-immune cloth seems like a serious threat to us nobles. Not even Ferdinand would be able to put up a fight if someone used the cloth to block his every attack. He’s in more danger than any of us right now...”

Not to mention, although we had only found a scrap of cloth, it seemed reasonable to assume that the same material might have been used to make weapons and armor as well. If either Giebe Gerlach or Georgine had such equipment, well... One would need some very carefully thought-out countermeasures to stand a chance.

“Sylvester won’t object to us informing Ferdinand, I’m sure,” Bonifatius said. “However, if Ahrensbach’s censors pick up on our warnings, we’ll only make the situation worse. Do you have a means of passing their checks?”

I could only blink in response. Bonifatius was smiling at me, but his blue eyes were intently watching my every move. Sylvester was doing the same. It felt entirely like they were testing me—and, now that I thought about it, Ferdinand had told me to keep our shining ink a secret.

After putting on my best fake smile, I placed a hand on my cheek and quizzically cocked my head. “Is it not Sylvester who does? He said as much during dinner. The best I could do is perhaps ask Ferdinand’s disciple, Raimund, to give him a letter or a message from us when I return to the Royal Academy. Or maybe I could try to find a moment to speak with him at the Archduke Conference, during the Starbind Ceremony. Do you have any better ideas, Grandfather?”

Bonifatius’s expression softened a little, then he shook his head at me and said, “Nope.” Seeing the sharpness in his eyes fade away made me want to sigh in relief.

Sylvester looked at me and stroked his chin. “I’m sorry to say this, Rozemyne, but Ferdinand won’t be attending the Archduke Conference. Aub Ahrensbach passed away a few days ago, and now Lady Detlinde needs to dye her foundation. It’s best that her mana not change until the process is complete, so their Starbind Ceremony is being delayed until next year.”

Ferdinand had sent Sylvester a letter to that effect. In it, he had also mentioned that he would be participating in Ahrensbach’s Spring Prayer, which meant we would need to adjust our response a little.

“It’s being delayed an entire year...?” I asked. “Then what’s happening with Ferdinand?”

“What do you mean?”

“His wedding can’t be held until the foundation has been dyed, so will he be able to return to Ehrenfest? Or will they at least give him a hidden room?” I asked anxiously. Going an entire season without somewhere to relax was bad enough, but a whole year?

Bonifatius gave me a look of slight exasperation. “What’re you getting so worked up about? He won’t be able to return unless his engagement is canceled—and, in any case, it’s normal not to be given a hidden room until you’re married. Another year is a fairly long time, but it isn’t something for you to worry about.”

Um... Isn’t it, though?

My eyes flitted between Sylvester and Bonifatius, which elicited a sigh from the former. “It seems that you don’t have the best understanding of noble weddings,” he said, then turned to Bonifatius. “I’ll take care of this, Uncle. Why don’t you go perform your divine protections ritual?”

“Hm... I suppose I will,” Bonifatius replied. “Melchior, if you would.” He left the room, though he kept glancing back at me on his way out. Once he was gone and the door was once again shut, Sylvester let out a heavy sigh, then looked me straight in the eye.

“Rozemyne, what’s your relationship with Ferdinand?”

“Umm...”

I tilted my head, not at all sure where his question had come from. It seemed a bit late to be asking something like that.

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” I asked. “Ferdinand is my guardian. He’s someone who looks after me. What more is there to say?”

Karstedt, who was standing behind Sylvester as his guard, smiled in approval of my response. “I thought that might be the case. Ferdinand must feel the same way.”

“Exactly. Was that not obvious?”

“Hmm...” Sylvester paused as if mustering his courage, then looked over everyone in the room, including our retainers. “By noble standards, Rozemyne... your relationship with Ferdinand is unusually close.”

I nodded and replied, “Um, right...” but I didn’t have a clue what he meant. To begin with, what were these “noble standards” he was referring to? Sylvester must have noticed my complete lack of understanding because, after exchanging a look with Karstedt, he attempted to elaborate.

“Look,” he said, clearly struggling to get the words out. “The truth is... there’s a rumor that you’re in love with Ferdinand.”

“This is news to me. I have no idea what might have caused it.”

My response caused a stir among our retainers; some cleared their throats in apparent discomfort, while others exchanged surprised murmurs. Again, I was completely lost. Yes, it was true that I trusted Ferdinand more than I trusted any other noble. He was like family to me, and I loved him as much as I did Lutz or Tuuli. But was I in love with him? Where had that assumption even come from?

“Is there a reason for that misinterpretation?” I asked.

Karstedt’s brow furrowed into a very reluctant frown. “Er, well... It isn’t too strange for a guardian to give his estate to his charge, but rarely are the staff and furniture kept the same. Ferdinand opted to leave the rooms as they were. He also put his valuables in your care and trusts you to send them to him as he needs them. It, uh... really is a bit much.”

By managing the estate for Ferdinand and doing what he asked of me, I was apparently doing the jobs that most people would entrust to the women in their family.

“Excuse me...?” I said. “Eckhart and Justus can rely on Mother and Rihyarda to send them their belongings, but Ferdinand doesn’t have a mother to do that for him, does he? Besides, the most I really do is tell the attendant he left behind what he wants. I don’t see the issue.”

It wasn’t like I was personally loading his things for him. At most, I would send an ordonnanz to Lasfam, who would take care of the rest. How people could see that as even remotely romantic was beyond me. Plus, Ferdinand wasn’t even living in Ehrenfest anymore; he had moved to Ahrensbach two seasons ago. Why were such rumors spreading now, of all times?

“Under normal circumstances, those who leave home to marry into another duchy take all of their belongings with them,” Karstedt explained. “Ferdinand wasn’t able to do that, though. Because he was summoned to Ahrensbach on such short notice, he had to leave his things here for another season.”

That reminded me—Clarissa had gone to Frenbeltag’s border gate to pick up her belongings, and she had announced upon returning that she now had absolutely everything she needed. This wasn’t really important, but my understanding was that people moving to another duchy didn’t usually bring too many clothes with them; instead, they ordered new ones that better matched the fashion senses of their new home. They mostly brought underclothes, which went unseen and therefore didn’t need to be stylish.

“By leaving his belongings at home,” Karstedt continued, “Ferdinand is making it seem like he hopes for a divorce.”

“Wait, really?” I asked. “Is his marriage going to be okay, then? We sent him more of his luggage in the spring, but only what he requested. His rooms aren’t yet empty or anything.” Naturally, I omitted the fact that Lasfam was eagerly waiting to be called over as well, once things were ready.

Sylvester stared at me, wide-eyed, and said, “I think I should manage Ferdinand’s belongings from now on. Can’t keep leaving them to you.”

Karstedt looked equally taken aback.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Above all else, because Ferdinand ceased being your guardian when he moved to Ahrensbach. Now, seasons later, everyone sees your relationship in a different light. You should wise up and do the same. You aren’t his charge anymore. He isn’t your guardian.”

There was nothing wrong with my receiving his estate; the issue was that our relationship hadn’t changed after the fact.

Karstedt crossed his arms, frowning once again. “You’re probably thinking that this has all come out of nowhere, but the truth is that our perception was just as naive as yours. It was only after people started warning us of the problem that we noticed it ourselves. You’ve also matured quite a lot—in a physical sense, that is. You’ve gotten taller, and now you actually look old enough to be attending the Royal Academy. Our knowledge of your situation made us slow on the uptake, but people no longer see you as a mere child admiring her guardian.”

I gazed down at my body. The hem of my dresses had needed to be lengthened after I woke up from the jureve, and everyone had assured me I was now old enough to be a student... but nobody had treated me any differently. That was probably because, at the time, I’d looked as though I hadn’t even been baptized yet. I’d even appeared to be younger than Wilfried and Charlotte, owing to our heights.

Now, however, the way that people viewed me had started to change. I’d celebrated the fact that I was growing at last, but I also hadn’t realized how much of an impact it would have on how others saw me and the things I did.

“Also...” Sylvester hesitantly continued, “some people have been voicing their concerns that you are too worried about Ferdinand now living in Ahrensbach. They think you’re not even half as worried about your fiancé.”

“And they’re right,” I said. “If someone asked me whether I was more worried about Ferdinand or Wilfried right now, my answer would absolutely be the former.”

Karstedt winced, while Sylvester smacked a hand against his own forehead and groaned. Had I said something wrong? I watched them both carefully as they continued their display of exasperation. It wasn’t long before Karstedt was face-palming and Sylvester was crossing his arms while staring up at the ceiling in thought.

After a moment, Sylvester returned his attention to me, evidently conflicted. “Look... could you also show some concern for your fiancé?” he asked. “He’s facing Leisegang almost entirely by himself, you know.”

“He has some of my concern. I advised him to let some time pass before approaching the Leisegangs, and I’ve actively tried to share my intelligence with him. However, no matter what happens, I will always prioritize Ferdinand.”

“Why?”

I met his eye and said, “Wilfried may technically be my fiancé, but consider all the roles Ferdinand played for my sake. As my guardian, he did a veritable mountain of work in my stead. As my mentor, he granted me books, knowledge, and the perspective needed to survive in noble society. And, as my doctor, he paid closer attention to my health than anybody else. He has granted me so much, while Wilfried grants me almost nothing. We’ve also spent so much more time together.”

To be frank, it was pointless to even compare the two. In terms of my appreciation, they were in completely different worlds.

“Not to mention,” I continued, “although you say that Wilfried is fighting this battle alone, he has two considerate parents doting on him, as well as Charlotte and Melchior to provide assistance whenever he needs it. Even I can—and do—help him as long as it doesn’t interfere with my temple work. How can you expect me to worry about him as much as I do about Ferdinand?”

I loved Tuuli and the others, but I didn’t spend my days worrying about whether they had enough food to eat, whether their lives were in danger, or anything like that. Ferdinand, however, was stranded in Ahrensbach without a workshop or a hidden room. He was always up to his eyes in work and wary of everyone but the two trustworthy retainers by his side. Aside from them, there was nobody with whom he could speak openly. He also had a tendency to skip meals and go without sleep when he was busy. Even on the occasions when he did eat, he was so wary of poison that he refused to touch anything unfamiliar.

Worst of all, Ferdinand was engaged to a girl who looked identical to Veronica. Had he been living an easy and carefree life in Ahrensbach, I wouldn’t have needed to worry about him so much.

“Should the day come when Wilfried starts prioritizing work over his basic needs, all the while sustaining himself with rejuvenation potions and ignoring his retainers’ every call to rest, then I will worry about him and Ferdinand in equal measure. But that hasn’t happened yet, has it? In fact, I don’t believe he’s acting at all out of the ordinary.”

Sylvester and our retainers were speechless, while Karstedt rubbed his brow and muttered, “So that’s how you decide whom to be concerned about...?”

“Is there something wrong with that, Father?”

“Well, don’t people usually base such priorities on familiarity or, uh... closeness? You’re at an age where you should get along better with your fiancé than your guardian.”

“So you were my age when you got close with Mother, hm?”

“Er, I, ah... Forget I said anything.” He cleared his throat and averted his gaze, trying to avoid the subject, but that awkward gesture told me everything I needed to know; he had started getting cozy with Elvira around then.

Karstedt wanted me to behave more like my age, but that was exactly the problem. I’d spent twenty-two years on Earth before coming to this world, meaning I was now well into my adulthood. Wilfried, on the other hand, was still only a child. I struggled to see him as someone my age, let alone develop romantic feelings for him.

At the very least, he’d need to be as old as I was when I died.

“Still, aren’t you worried about him?” Karstedt asked me. “You’re aware of the trouble with the Leisegangs.”

“Like I said, I do feel some concern for him. I attempted to share intelligence with his retainers and even made him a protective charm. He was anything but receptive, though. He refused to accept any information from me and wouldn’t even thank me for the charm I gave him.”

I’d expected at least a thank-you message delivered through his retainers, but no. He hadn’t even sent me an ordonnanz to confirm that he’d received the charm. Was he pleased with it? Did he think I was overstepping? I didn’t have a clue, and I certainly wasn’t motivated to make him another. To be honest, I was so busy and saw him so infrequently these days that I sometimes forgot he even existed.

“He was definitely in the wrong there,” Sylvester said. “I can’t excuse him for that.”

“Oh, also—I was going to advise him not to clamor for the Leisegangs’ support and to instead take his time, but my retainers stopped me. They said that he was too wounded from what he had experienced during Spring Prayer and would only lash out at me in response.”

Sylvester exhaled. “No surprises there.”

“Chances are they weren’t wrong either...” Karstedt added, sighing as well.

Everyone seemed convinced that the best course of action was to keep Wilfried in the dark. He was acting aloof, sure, but was that really the best response? I told Sylvester about the vague things Cornelius and the others had said to me, then launched into my main questions.

“So, what state is Wilfried in right now, exactly? Should I refrain from approaching him, as my retainers advise?”

Sylvester took a moment to consider his answer, while his retainers and Karstedt all watched with troubled frowns.

“For now... yeah,” Sylvester eventually replied. “I think we can all agree that Wilfried needs to accept a few truths, no matter how unpleasant they might be. But I could also say the same for you, Rozemyne. I think the two of you should stay apart until you can both accept things for what they are.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I said, cocking my head at him. “What truths am I refusing to accept?”

Sylvester’s dark-green eyes looked straight into mine. “First of all, Ferdinand isn’t your guardian anymore; he belongs to another duchy. Second, he’s no longer expected to aid you; now that Aub Ahrensbach is gone, he needs to support Lady Detlinde while she begins dyeing her foundation. And third, to top it all off, you’re engaged to Wilfried. I won’t say it’s wrong of you to worry about Ferdinand. I mean, I’m worried about him too. But you can’t keep using that as an excuse to cling to him. As comforting as his presence might be... you need to let him go. You’re going to spend the rest of your life with Wilfried, and the two of you need to start learning to support one another.”

Okay... You’ve got me there.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, those were all things I would need to come to terms with eventually. It was tough, though; I didn’t want to end my relationship with Ferdinand. Even now, I could at least complain to him in my letters, ask him to discreetly teach me things, and simply take comfort in speaking with him.

“Rozemyne... it was nice to have Ferdinand looking out for you, wasn’t it? He always paved the way forward or at least set you on the right path. Then he left, and you suddenly stopped meshing with people in the same way. Despite your best attempts to do things as he taught you, they never produce the same results. Am I right?”

“Yeah... Anytime I end up in a sticky situation, I can’t help but think, ‘Ferdinand would have stopped me before things got this bad.’”

His expression softened. “Same here. His departure really made me realize how little I was thinking for myself. But the sad truth is that he’s never coming back to Ehrenfest. As much as it hurts, we need to accept that.”

Clarissa had told me that Sylvester was in a disastrous state right now. In her words, he had underestimated the consequences of the purge and fumbled its execution. Well, she had phrased it more politely than that, but still. Little did she know, the true reason for the chaos was that we had initially intended to carry out the purge while Ferdinand was still in Ehrenfest. He had planned to contain the Leisegangs for us, and we had assumed that he would be able to help us with the cleanup before moving to Ahrensbach.

Of course, Ferdinand had ended up departing much sooner than anticipated, leaving us to manage the finer details and correct every minor mishap or miscalculation ourselves. Sylvester and I had always been deeply reliant on him, so doing everything for ourselves had been much easier said than done.

“Rozemyne, Wilfried is one of your strongest ties to Ehrenfest,” Sylvester continued. “You need to do more to get along with each other. Getting close to him is one of the best ways you can prevent other parties from trying to claim you for themselves.”

I nodded slowly. Unpleasant though it was, this was a problem I would need to resolve myself. “But what can I do to get closer to him?”

“For now... just pretend. You can start by acting like you’re more worried about him. We need to put a stop to these rumors that you care more about Ferdinand than your fiancé.”

He was asking for the impossible, but I responded with a dispassionate “Okay.” How was I even supposed to make people believe I was worried about Wilfried...? Nothing about his situation seemed to warrant my concern. He wasn’t at risk of going hungry like the children in the orphanage, nor had he run away from home as Lutz did that one time. Perhaps I could support him as I did Tuuli whenever she was feeling anxious about her seamstress work, but he already had adult scholars to rely on. In fact, I didn’t think he was struggling with his workload in the first place.

Sylvester wanted me to show more concern for Wilfried than for Ferdinand, but that was a big ask. To begin with, I would need to send him an ordonnanz every day at dinnertime, reminding him to eat; stop by his hidden room every now and again to drag him back out into the outside world; and stay in close contact with his attendants to ensure he was getting enough sleep.

I imagine we’d fall at the first hurdle, though. I’d contact him at dinnertime, he’d reply that he obviously isn’t working so late, then I’d need to bite back the urge to tell him that he isn’t working hard enough then.

“So, what was it you wanted to discuss?” Sylvester asked.

I explained that some of the children in the orphanage had grown despondent and outlined my intention to prepare magic tools and rejuvenation potions for them.

Sylvester grimaced. “You don’t need to do all that. People consider it extreme enough that you spared their lives and gave them a home in the orphanage. If you do any more, they’re going to ask you to devote those resources to the children in their faction instead.”

He had said exactly the same thing as Hartmut, so I gave exactly the same response: “I merely wish to save the children of the orphanage I am expected to oversee. If we can provide for those who don’t have magic tools, then we can prevent more unnecessary deaths. If we leave them to their fate, it will be as though they were never even born.”

“The children won’t have enough money to cover the expenses, and you won’t be able to provide for them all. Last time we discussed supporting the children in the orphanage and playroom, you suggested using their parents’ money. I agreed. But these children don’t have magic tools for a reason—because their parents can’t afford to pay for them. How do you expect to fund this endeavor?”

He was right—we had only been able to support the other children because we were getting money from their parents. Even better, it was socially acceptable, since it reinforced the traditional idea that parents were responsible for their kids. That approach wouldn’t help us in this case, though; if we wanted to start providing magic tools, we would need to adapt it.

“Well, I was thinking we could loan them the tools, then get them to pay us back once they’re older and employed,” I said. We had already set that precedent by loaning the children of the former Veronica faction the money they needed to make it through the Royal Academy, on the basis that they would repay their debts after graduating.

Sylvester gave me a look of exasperation. “I can accept loaning a few years’ worth of money to apprentices who can already work to support themselves, but you’re suggesting that we saddle these children with an immense debt before they’ve even been baptized. You need to remember that living as a noble is expensive enough already, and people from the temple don’t even have parents or relatives to rely on. How can you expect them to manage loan repayments on top of everything else?”

“Um... Well...”

“I was fine with saving those kids’ lives, but I refuse to cover their expenses. They have mana, and if they can get by with supplemental funding and their own earnings, then having them stay in the temple as blue priests seems fine to me. I can’t think of a single reason to make orphans without magic tools into nobles.”

“But...”

“Rozemyne, the possessions taken from the former Veronica faction were mine to distribute among my allies. That I gave the children you saved anything at all was generous enough, especially when those belongings could have gone to the nobles of our faction. Instead of asking for more, be grateful that I’ve already gone above and beyond for them. Just as Bonifatius said, you need to consider the broader consequences of your actions.”

Unable to argue, I merely hung my head in response. Helping the children wouldn’t be easy. I didn’t know what my actions might inspire or how far the consequences would reach.

I want to save them, but I don’t know what the right solution is.

“Before you start getting caught up in things that shouldn’t concern you, think about the things that should. Have you finished preparing for the Archduke Conference’s Starbind Ceremony?”

“We’ve already decided who’s going to guard me and who will accompany me to the library.”

“Good. Be back at the castle. You know when.”

As we continued to discuss the Archduke Conference, Bonifatius returned from his ritual. He was slouching his extremely broad shoulders and generally looked upset.

“How did your ritual go?” I asked.

Bonifatius shot Sylvester a resentful glare and then muttered, “I received... seventeen.” He was frustrated that he hadn’t gotten as many divine protections as his nephew.

“Uncle, although we both started praying at the same time, I spent a lot longer offering mana when I needed to dye the foundation,” Sylvester said. “That probably explains it. Anyway, which gods gave you their protection?” He sounded really eager, probably because he had ended up with some unusual protections after his own ritual.

Bonifatius grunted, clenching and unclenching his hand. “I turned omni-elemental too. Got most protections from gods about fighting. I’ll need to head to the training grounds to test how much stronger I’ve gotten.”

“Okay, Master!” Angelica exclaimed, lighting up at once. “Let’s have a match right away!”

At the same time, Cornelius let out a howl. “At your age, why do you still care about getting stronger?!”