Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.7 - Chapter 13

Preparing for War

“Your own Schwartz and Weiss?” Sylvester asked, looking thoroughly baffled. “Whaddaya mean? Where’s this coming from?”

I explained my thought process, but not even that seemed to help.

“Alright,” he said, his head in his hands, “I understand that you want to guide her there with magic tools, but don’t those require a plethora of elements and even more mana to operate? And don’t forget you’re leaving for the Sovereignty at the end of spring. Who’s going to fuel them when you’re gone? I’m betting she’ll attack during Spring Prayer, but that’s just a gut feeling. I don’t have any proof.”

“Eep!”

The magic tools I wanted to make wouldn’t require as much mana as Schwartz and Weiss, since they wouldn’t have as much work to do, but who would maintain them in my absence? Protecting the temple was important, but very few people had the Darkness element, and the duchy wouldn’t have any mana to spare once I was gone. It was unreasonable to expect them to supply the tools into the foreseeable future.

“Not to mention,” Sylvester continued, “do you honestly think my cautious elder sister would follow some strange magic tools? Even I’d find them suspicious.”

“She won’t think twice—trust me. Schwartz and Weiss are adorable!”

“That really doesn’t matter. Just seeing them in the temple is going to arouse suspicion. Wouldn’t it be more effective to have the guards carry several charms?”

I clapped my hands together and cried, “I’ve got it! In other words, I should make combat-ready versions of Schwartz and Weiss that can fight with the guards!”

“You really haven’t ‘got it’!”

“I mean, the gray priests have barely any mana at all, so I don’t see what good our charms would do them. If we want to do this properly, we should assign knights to the temple’s gates or make autonomous magic tools like Schwartz and Weiss.”

I vaguely remembered that the two shumils had drawn mana from their buttons when they’d entered combat mode. Maybe we could minimize costs by having the guards carry feystones brimming with mana and telling them to activate our magic tools only when necessary. I decided that I would check the Book of Mestionora when I next had the chance; maybe it contained a hint of some kind.

“You can leave protecting the temple to me,” I said. “For now, focus on what you’ll do if Georgine reaches the foundation. Oh, and set up some traps, of course. You could make a simple gate with entwickeln, stack something heavy atop it, then have the whole thing collapse on her as soon as she passes through. Or you could scatter (marbles)—um, small round stones all across the path she’ll need to take.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure we’ve got some traps in place—though I’d rather she not get near the foundation in the first place,” Sylvester replied. Then he muttered, “If she doesn’t come through the border gate, where can we expect her to attack from?”

From a geographical standpoint, Gerlach made the most sense. And on that note—

“Have you spoken with Grandfather and Matthias?” I asked.

“There weren’t any traces of entry. Coupled with the absence of any tracks in the snow and the fact that Bonifatius’s instincts didn’t notice anything strange, it seems safe to conclude that nobody’s visited the province.”

By using Lanzenave’s silver cloth, one could pass through a duchy’s border without the archduke noticing. The “catch” of sorts was that one needed to be completely covered, preventing the use of schtappes or highbeasts. It was hard to imagine anyone traveling through Ehrenfest on foot, so our unwanted guests would almost certainly be using a vehicle of some kind.

I paused in thought. “We might not know how they’re going to attack us, but would it not be wise to have the archducal family’s retainers start making as many rejuvenation potions and magic tools as they can? Since you’re part of the generation that participated in treasure-stealing ditter, I suspect you know what a crucial role magic tools can play in a battle.”

The outcome of a battle was often based on the number of magic tools each side had at its disposal. That was why I wanted to use Bonifatius’s and Rihyarda’s generations as much as possible.

I continued, “How about the magic tools I used during my third year? They worked against Dunkelfelger’s knights, so I’m sure they’d work here. The students who brewed them should still remember the recipe; Hartmut worked them to the bone, after all.”

From there, I elaborated on the immense power of magic tools. Those that weren’t simply mana-based attacks, such as flash-bangs and insect swarms, could work even on those wearing silver cloth.

“Treasure-stealing ditter, huh?” Sylvester murmured.

“Indeed. The war game is based on trying to steal another duchy’s foundation or protect your own. That’s why I’d advise you to consult Grandfather’s generation and go through the documents that Ferdinand gave us. Though our main concern is going to be that silver cloth...”

Lanzenave’s silver cloth was the perfect way to counter nobles attacking with mana—but it was basically useless against anyone who wasn’t using schtappe weaponry.

“If we want to take our enemies by surprise,” I said, “our best bet might be to employ commoners. Soldiers are used to normal weaponry. Perhaps they could attack any silver-clothed individuals trying to pass through the gate, or throw excrement on their cloth to force them to remove it...”

Sylvester grimaced. “You’re pretty savage, you know that? No normal noblewoman would suggest throwing waste at people.” To be honest, I thought my strangeness was old news by now.

“Dunkelfelger’s knights were just as appalled when they saw my ditter strategies, but victory is more important than anything else, right? Ferdinand even mentioned in his documents that noble courtesy and up-front honesty have no place in battle.”

Those who had attended the Royal Academy alongside Ferdinand had embraced that mindset under his leadership, while Ehrenfest’s current students had adopted it as a result of our ditter game against Dunkelfelger. We had to surprise our opponents to compensate for our inferior strength.

“Sylvester,” I said, “can I send Ferdinand some food and a letter? He might have some advice for us.”

“Won’t my sister notice? I’d rather we make it clear that they’re from Ehrenfest as a whole. We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to you.”

I didn’t think it was a big deal, since I’d just recovered from a supposed illness, but I wasn’t going to complain if Sylvester wanted to take the lead.

“As long as Ferdinand receives them, that’s fine with me,” I said. “I trust you will speak with the students and archducal retainers. I am going to be in my workshop with my retinue.”

That marked the end of our discussion, so I took my leave; we were going to need all sorts of magic tools, and it seemed wise to get started on them right away. I started returning to my room, thinking that I needed to gather everyone I’d stationed in the temple, only to find Hartmut waiting for me with my other retainers, a broad smile on his face.

“Hartmut, why are you here?” I asked.

“I entrusted matters of the temple to Lord Melchior and his retainers. How went your discussion with the aub? Is there anything I can help you with?” He was imploring me with his eyes: “Please grace me with your orders!”

I took an unconscious step back, wanting to escape the pressure he was exuding. But at the same time, I needed him and Clarissa to help me brew magic tools.

“I plan to invite the scholars to my library to brew,” I said. “We must prepare for our upcoming battle against Lady Georgine by making various magic tools and rejuvenation potions.”

“If we are preparing for war, should we not summon all retainers serving the archducal family? Even knights and attendants can perform the more simple brews.”

“You mean I should call upon everyone, not just the scholars?” As I recalled, the magic tools we’d used against Dunkelfelger had all been made by apprentice scholars. The brews had simply been too complex for the apprentice knights and attendants.

“Brewing classes are mandatory for all students, so yes. Even knights can make basic rejuvenation potions, as per what they learned. Requesting their aid will allow the scholars to dedicate their time and mana to harder brews.”

He was right that we didn’t need to rely entirely on the scholars; when it came to rejuvenation potions, quantity was key. I nodded and turned to look at my other retainers, only to find Angelica vigorously shaking her head.

“I’m a guard knight,” she said. “I shall guard you, Lady Rozemyne.”

“Fear not, Angelica—I was never going to ask you to brew. Though I may ask you to gather in the nobles’ forest.”

She placed a hand on her chest, clearly relieved, and smiled. “I could not ask for a better charge, Lady Rozemyne.”

“Your praise does not please me in the slightest.”

“I am just glad you understand me so well.”

We weren’t exactly on the same page, but there was nothing more I could do about that. I gave Angelica the same smile she always gave me and moved the conversation along.

“Our plan is for the laynobles and mednobles to head to the temple workshop to make rejuvenation potions and simple magic tools for the knights going into battle. Meanwhile, the archnobles will devote themselves to more complex brews in my library’s workshop. Are there any objections? This arrangement should complement the quality of the ingredients in each workshop. Plus, it will allow Damuel and Philine to remain in contact with Melchior’s retainers if they need further instruction on temple matters.”

The temple was currently in the midst of preparing for Spring Prayer. I wasn’t going to be involved this year, owing to my unexpected absence and the likelihood that I might be ordered to move to the Sovereignty at any moment. In my stead, Philine was going to attend with Damuel and my temple attendants.

“Hartmut, will you be attending Spring Prayer?” I asked.

“As a name-sworn retainer, I planned to return to your side the moment you came back to us. That is why I concluded almost the entirety of the temple handover during the winter. Arrangements have been made for Lord Melchior to perform the lower city’s winter coming-of-age ceremony as High Bishop.”

“Your excessive competence never fails to surprise me.” It also scared and grossed me out a bit, but I elected not to mention that. His competence was something to be praised.

“I shall treasure your kind words, Lady Rozemyne.”

“Hartmut was not the only one working hard,” Clarissa interjected. “Over the winter, I organized the ingredients sent from the Royal Academy and moved them to the library’s workshop, improved my supportive circles, and made extra fey paper in case Lord Ferdinand requested more.”

Though she was blatantly vying for my attention, the work she’d done would aid us immensely in the coming battle. The extra paper she’d made was especially useful, since I could use it with my copy-and-paste skill to duplicate magic circles. The more we had, the better.

“Excellent work, Clarissa. There is much we can do with that paper. Brewing it requires so much time and mana that I did not expect us to have any, but now I can focus on creating my own Schwartz and Weiss to defend the temple.”

“As for the library magic tools,” Lieseleta said, turning to look at my luggage from the Royal Academy, “we do have one Professor Hirschur sent us.”

I’d taken ingredients to the Royal Academy to brew with, only to suddenly disappear partway through the term. Hirschur had visited our dormitory to collect them, since my retainers had told everyone I was simply bedridden with a fever.

“She came when the Ehrenfest Dormitory was most panicked about your disappearance,” Lieseleta continued. “We gave her the ingredients in exchange for her assistance in spreading our cover story, but a lack of mana and concerns about the elements kept her from finishing the brew. She ended up asking Lord Ferdinand to help during the Interduchy Tournament, and only then was she able to finish the tool. I already have it wearing clothes. See?”

Indeed, the tool was fully dressed. Lieseleta had repurposed some of the clothing she’d made for Schwartz and Weiss.

“The tool was given only one function: searching documents,” she said. “Giving it a specialized purpose while also omitting its capacity for speech simplified the creation process and minimized the amount of mana required to keep it running.”

“There must be plenty I can learn from it, then,” I replied. “Bring it to my library alongside the documents.”

Since everyone was on board with my suggestion that we should do our brewing in groups, I returned to the temple and opened up the workshop in my chambers there. I entrusted managing the ingredients to Roderick, then established the order in which everyone would make their potions and magic tools.

Next, I turned to Damuel. “I would ask you to serve as an arbitrator between the knights guarding the gates and the soldiers. It might end up being the case that the soldiers are best suited to dealing with anyone wearing silver cloth.”

“Understood.”

This was a job that only Damuel could do, owing to the respect he had earned from the soldiers. Angelica got along with them as well, but I didn’t have any faith in her management skills.

“The knights and scholars are being split between the library and the temple, but what about the attendants?” Judithe asked.

“Lieseleta and the others may brew rejuvenation potions in the castle or make clothes for the shumils I am going to create. You should try making magic tools and rejuvenation potions that you can use as well.”

Once I’d given everyone their tasks, I went to my library. I could tell that Lasfam had a hundred questions for me—questions I really didn’t have time to answer—so I gave him a smile urging him not to ask them.

I continued into my workshop and then took out the magic tool that Hirschur and Ferdinand had made for me. It was a light-green shumil. I touched it all over while reading Hirschur’s research notes to see what it was capable of.

“It really was designed to search for documents...”

In any case, the Life element was necessary to make autonomous magic tools, and anyone who hoped to make their own Schwartz and Weiss would absolutely need to be omni-elemental. Hartmut and Clarissa ticked those boxes, since they’d received all the elements after giving their names to me. Perhaps their mana capacities would cause problems, but probably not huge ones. Probably.

“First and foremost, I should name it,” I mused aloud. “I wouldn’t want people confusing it with Schwartz or Weiss. It’s a magic tool that searches through documents, so maybe Kensaku or Opac?”

Cornelius looked up from the ingredients he was cutting for my magic tools, then raised a hand to get my attention. “My apologies, Lady Rozemyne, but Lieseleta has already named that shumil. She calls him Adrett and dotes upon him terribly. Would you mind not changing it?”

“I would ask the same,” Leonore agreed. “We have all grown used to calling him Adrett.”

Thus, I was denied the opportunity to name the light-green shumil. Kensaku and Opac were a lot easier to understand, in my opinion—at least for those who understood Japanese and semiobscure online database naming conventions, respectively—but I saw no reason to oppose the others’ wishes. “Adrett” would do.

“The combat assault shumils I intend to make will not search through files,” I said. “Instead, they will specialize in eliminating intruders and dangerous individuals. I want magic tools strong enough to protect the temple.”

I explained the mana-related problems Sylvester had outlined, at which point Hartmut and Clarissa started clambering to advise me. Their insight was useful, but there was a certain book I wanted to consult.

“Hartmut, Clarissa, I must check something in my hidden room.”

“Hm?” Clarissa stared at me in surprise. “Could you not check it here?”

I merely smiled in response. Everyone here was a trusted member of my retinue, but still—I couldn’t let them see the Book of Mestionora.

“There are some documents I cannot read anywhere else,” I replied. “Angelica, if you would guard the door. Hartmut, Clarissa, you may begin making more paper once you have finished your notes.”

I took Hirschur’s documents into my hidden room and deposited them on the table. Then I took out my schtappe and chanted, “Grutrissheit.”

“Let’s see... I could try searching for information about libraries and magic tools... Aah! Too many results!”

I didn’t know what Schwartz’s and Weiss’s actual names were, so I’d tried searching them up indirectly. My first attempt hadn’t given me the answers I’d sought, but it had taught me that libraries used so many magic tools. Based on the rows upon rows of entries, the Royal Academy’s library must have been especially important.

“Looking at the information like this also makes it very clear what interests Ferdinand...”

There were gaps in the sections about the underground archive and the statue of Mestionora, but the magic tool that signaled when it was time to leave was covered in full—a sign that it hadn’t interested Ferdinand at all. Given the placement of the gaps, I could guess that, unlike me, he hadn’t been able to empty his mind and simply accept the knowledge bestowed upon him.

He probably started thinking every time some information caught his attention.

That curiosity must have been the reason he’d ended up resisting Mestionora’s knowledge. The mental image of him getting scolded by Erwaermen every time he failed to clear his mind made me chuckle.

“Ferdinand really is awkward at the strangest times...” I said with a smile.

At that thought, my eyes were drawn to the leather bag containing his praise-filled magic tool. I reached over and took out the tool, eager to listen to the messages within—but when I set the bag down again, it made a quiet clunking sound.

“Oh, right. It’s double-layered. I wonder what’s inside...”

I touched the bag all over. It wasn’t that big. From what I could tell, the source of the noise was a rough feystone of some kind stitched into the fabric of the bag. It hadn’t caught my attention before, but now I was curious.

“Ferdinand gave this to me, right? So I must be allowed to look inside.”

Because the bag was double-layered, I wouldn’t simply be able to open it and peer inside; I would actually need to slice into the bottom. So I created my schtappe, turned it into a knife, and then poured extra mana into it.

The bag was made from nonconductive leather, taken from a feybeast that resisted all mana but its own. This made it somewhat similar to Lanzenave’s silver cloth, but the two weren’t exactly the same. This leather was only so resistant; mana weapons could still slice through it as long as the wielder had stronger mana than the original feybeast. Silver cloth, on the other hand, blocked even the most powerful mana, but one could easily cut it up with a regular blade.

“This won’t damage the thing inside, right?” I wondered as I cut a circular hole in the base of the bag. I was pouring so much mana into my knife that it moved as easily as a hot knife through butter.

Once I was done, I turned my schtappe back into its standard wand shape, then dismissed it entirely. My heart raced as I reached into the newly opened compartment. What had Ferdinand stashed inside? The first thing I took out was a crumpled-up oval ball—an item wrapped in white paper, about five centimeters in diameter. There was also a small, folded note.

I put the ball on the table and opened up the note. It was a letter from Ferdinand. He must have been in a serious hurry at the time because the writing was extremely rushed and messy.

“Let’s see here... ‘Contained within this paper is the name stone of a man called Quinta. Until the day I come to retrieve it, keep it in your hidden room, away from anyone else. And do not touch it, no matter the circumstances.’ Geez! You should have given it back to him, Ferdinand, not thrust it upon me in this roundabout way. I can’t help feeling bad for this Quinta guy.”

As I started to ponder why Ferdinand would send the stone to me rather than its owner, I suddenly remembered exactly who Quinta was.

“Ah! Wait! Isn’t that Ferdinand’s actual name or something?! Does that mean... this is his name stone?! Hold on a second. Then why was that note written like it was someone else’s?!”

Was there a reason he didn’t feel comfortable holding on to it? If so, why stick it inside a random bag? Couldn’t he have hidden it within one of the rooms here in the estate where his luggage was being kept? And why make a name-swearing stone in the first place when he didn’t have anyone to give it to? My mind was overflowing with questions.

“Did he give it to someone who then gave it back? I can’t really imagine him giving his name to anyone, but this is his stone, so that must be what happened...” I didn’t understand the circumstances, but all the evidence I needed was before my eyes.

Ferdinand had given me this bag before Ahrensbach had given him a hidden room. Maybe there hadn’t been anywhere else for him to hide it. Was his situation so dire that he couldn’t keep it on his person? And why had he given it to me, not someone else?

“Could it be that he trusts me that much...? No way. That can’t be it. He had no way of knowing that Erwaermen would tell me his true name, so maybe he just thought I wouldn’t bother touching a name stone belonging to a stranger. Yeah, that seems a lot more likely.”

As I stared at the ball of paper, I started to feel more and more unsettled. Was Ahrensbach really so dangerous that Ferdinand couldn’t look after his own name stone?

“I don’t know what to do with this thing...”

The paper ball was so unsteady that a simple prod would send it rolling off the table—yet the stone within had the power to end a man’s life.

“Well, I now know that Ferdinand is actually Quinta, so there’s nothing stopping me from stealing his name... I’m not sure I want that weight on my shoulders, though, so I’ll just leave the stone here.”

It didn’t matter that the stone belonged to Ferdinand; I wasn’t going to take anybody’s name without having the resolve to carry their burdens. Moreover, the note had very clearly told me not to touch it. I just needed to keep it here until the day when Ferdinand came to retrieve it. Electing to pretend that I’d never seen it in the first place, I put it back inside the bag.

Ferdinand probably knew that I wouldn’t be able to mess with someone else’s feystone—that was why he’d given his to me in the first place. It was frustrating to think that I was dancing in the palm of his hand, but at the same time, he’d still entrusted me with something immensely important. I couldn’t be too annoyed with him.

Sure, I’ll keep it safe. But you’d better come for it soon.

I spent the following days working on my combat-ready shumils and on magic tools that would aid us in the coming battle. I also did evacuation drills with everyone in the orphanage and registered my library’s documents with Adrett.

In the end, I was able to make three shumils that would retaliate against both mana and physical attacks. They would guard the three temple gates and recognize the guards with feystones as their masters. According to Hartmut, who had assisted me in making them, there were very few people who would actually be able to create these shumils, since they required very rare materials and omni-elemental mana.

Hartmut and Clarissa were omni-elemental now that they’d given their names to me, but elements obtained through name-swearing weren’t even half as strong as those one had to begin with. Thus, while Hartmut had narrowly managed to help me by reobtaining divine protections and using the subordinate gods’ support to strengthen his new elements, Clarissa hadn’t possessed the elemental power necessary to make one of my combat-ready shumils.

“I want to obtain new divine protections too!” she protested, but we couldn’t allow an unmarried young woman from another duchy to be seen entering the temple. There was also my looming departure for the Sovereignty to consider, which meant we didn’t have the leeway to perform another divine protections ritual.

“I’m, um... sorry to have disappointed you once again,” I said.

“Oh, no! I should apologize! That you have allowed me to stay here before my wedding is generous enough! I am so very sorry for causing more trouble!”

“You don’t need to fret, Clarissa—I recognize how hard you’re working as my retainer.” I gazed upon the three magic tools we’d created. “If not for your extra paper, we wouldn’t have been able to make this many shumils. You also saved us an enormous amount of mana by narrowing down their functions and removing their capacity for speech. You might not have been able to create them, but you still played a crucial role in ensuring their efficiency. Your work was flawless, if you ask me.”

“By normal standards, they still require a lot of mana,” Hartmut interjected. “To keep these shumils active, an archnoble would need to replenish them once every couple of days.”

Cornelius nodded. “We can all agree that they’re going to be useful, but we should only activate them when there’s an emergency.”

“Yes, that sounds best,” I replied. We would need to save as much mana as possible, but still—could we really run all three shumils with a single archnoble? Schwartz and Weiss were having to rely on three!

In the end, we came to a reasonable agreement: the shumils would remain with the guards, as per our original plan, but would only be activated when someone suspicious arrived at one of the temple’s gates or when a rott signaling the Knight’s Order was fired in the lower city.