Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.11 - Chapter 12

Expending Mana through Spring Prayer

“This place is like a ghost town...” I said.

Our past trips to Bindewald had been anything but peaceful: first a bunch of shrieking ladies, then feasts and ditter matches to entertain Dunkelfelger’s knights. Now it was barren land almost entirely devoid of greenery.

“As expected,” Ferdinand replied. “The estate was closed, and the servants moved to a neighboring city. It will remain this way until you assign a new giebe.”

I couldn’t do that until after the Archduke Conference, where the Zent would formally recognize me as the new Aub Ahrensbach. Well, I could, but people would view it as a massive slight against Eglantine. It was much safer to wait.

“Still...” I said. “If we don’t appoint someone soon, the commoners will suffer the consequences.” Spring Prayer and the Harvest Festival needed to be performed and noble tax collectors had to be sent out or the commoners wouldn’t be able to pay their taxes. It wouldn’t be their fault, but they would face punishment nonetheless.

“I shall prepare several viable candidates for your review after the Archduke Conference. For now, form your highbeast and start moving the attendants and chefs.”

“Right.”

I made Rainbow Lessy and started to transform him, trying to picture the inside of a large camper. To ensure maximum comfort, I added as many beds as we had people.

“How’s this?” I asked when I was done, showing off my double-decker-bus-sized creation. “Now everyone can sleep peacefully.”

Ferdinand tapped his temple and made further demands. He wanted separate floors for the men and women, a separate space for the servants, higher ceilings, and more width than even the largest camper could provide. By the time I was done, Lessy looked more like a house.

“Ferdinand, I don’t think this even counts as a (vehicle) anymore...”

Was this seriously still a highbeast? I was starting to wonder where people drew the line when Ferdinand gave a contented nod and said, “As abnormal as it looks, it should serve its purpose.”

“Abnormal”? Hah! The pot’s calling the kettle black!

“Begin preparing food and making the beds,” Ferdinand instructed the others. “If we need water, there is a well nearby. Rozemyne and I shall take our guards and start restoring the land.”

I put down feystones to ensure my highbeast wouldn’t disappear, then took the chalice and climbed onto Ferdinand’s white lion, leaving the chefs and attendants behind. We would spend the morning replenishing the northeastern towns around the summer estate, then work our way south after lunch.

“Let us hurry to the first farming town,” I said once we were airborne.

“Not yet,” Ferdinand replied, taking us past the one closest to us. “We should prioritize land away from the settlements.”

“But why? The towns come first, don’t they?” The best way to improve the harvest was to restore the land closest to the farmers. It didn’t make sense to do anything else.

“Not this time. If we focus on the farming towns, the mana will attract hordes of starving feybeasts. We should replenish the most rural areas first if we want to avoid casualties.”

“Ah,” I said, finally understanding him. The feybeasts were as famished as anyone. “In that case, let us hurry to the forests and mountains. My mana’s starting to spill out of the chalice.”

Ferdinand peered down to see, then immediately sped up.

As soon as we reached our destination, I poured some of the rainbow liquid out of my chalice. The earth below us darkened, and patches of green sprouted all around us as the land returned to its original appearance. My normal mana wouldn’t have been able to accomplish this—not without a prayer to the gods. It would only have enlarged the hungry feybeasts and feyplants.

Divine power sure is something else.

The changing scenery rendered me speechless. I wanted nothing more than to keep admiring it, but my arms soon started to tremble.

“Uh-oh. Ferdinand... My arms are tired from holding the chalice.”

“Endure it for a little while longer—until fourth bell.”

“I’ll do my best, but I might drop it.”

Dyeing an instrument with one’s mana made it feel almost weightless, but the chalice was still a nightmare to hold. It was surprisingly large—about eighty centimeters tall—and slowly sapped every ounce of my stamina.

Though I managed to hold out until fourth bell—thanks, in part, to Ferdinand—I wanted to scream that I’d reached my limit. My hands quivered, and my already weak grip strength was now practically nonexistent. Our trip had drained some of my mana and restored vast swathes of land, but we would absolutely need to rethink our approach.

We returned to Lessy for lunch. Hartmut had gotten back ahead of us and was regaling the attendants with an overly animated speech.

“It was extraordinary! The descent of a true goddess, without question! The divine avatar shone brighter than the sun, exuding the power of the gods, and quenched the barren earth with her omni-elemental mana. Geduldh wet the soil, Bluanfah visited with a profusion of sprouts, and Anwachs grew them with vig—”

“Hartmut, is this really the time?” Lieseleta interjected. “Lady Rozemyne needs to rest.”

“If you will excuse me, Hartmut...” Gretia said. “Though I am eager to know what my lady has been up to, serving her comes first.”

My attendants escaped with practiced ease, lightly chastising Hartmut before getting straight to work. Sergius wasn’t so fortunate; his eyes darted all over the place as he stumbled through a one-on-one conversation with the raving scholar.

“Ferdinand, should we save him?” I asked.

“Justus is approaching them now. We can leave the matter to him.”

Ferdinand was right—Justus was already marching to his fellow retainer’s rescue. He took the plates Sergius was carrying... and returned to us without a word.

“That wasn’t saving him...” I muttered. “That was leaving him to die.”

“An attendant’s priority is serving his lord.”

Right... Stay strong, Sergius.

Cheering him on in my heart, I turned to the plates Lieseleta had set in front of me. Steam billowed from the freshly made food.

Lieseleta leaned closer to me, inspecting my face. “You look tired, Lady Rozemyne.”

“Carrying the chalice was exhausting. Could we fasten it to my stomach before I set out again? Then I should need only to rest my hands against it.”

“Fasten it... to your stomach?” Lieseleta paused—she must have been imagining it—then gave Ferdinand a queer look. I continued to explain before he could shoot me down.

“It won’t look elegant, but what other choice do we have? I’m physically incapable of using it gracefully.”

“Yes, this morning made that clear...” Ferdinand mused. “How fares your mana? Replenishing the land must have worked wonders for you if you are proposing something so crude.”

Was I the only one who didn’t care about elegance? This was supposed to be an emergency—that was why we’d put naming my new city on the back burner.

“Less abundant than before,” I replied. “If we keep up our current pace and account for how much mana I regain each night, I should run out in... five days.”

“Five days... Have you forgotten that a single morning completely drained your stamina?”

“Accounting for that is your job, not mine.”

Ferdinand could glare for as long as he wanted. He was my head doctor, and it was his belief that replenishing the duchy was the best way to drain my mana. I was just following orders.

“In other words, we need a less tiring method...”

Ferdinand pondered while he ate, searching for another solution. He must not have found one, though, as I spent that afternoon with the chalice tied to my stomach, restoring the land as we had done that morning.

“I’m so tired...” I groaned.

Over the course of the afternoon, I’d poured mana into the rest of Bindewald and the province of Kannawitz to the south. Now I was slumped over the white lion taking us back to my Pandahouse, too exhausted to even sit up. I would probably have fallen by now if not for Ferdinand acting as my backrest.

“It is your own fault for getting so excited about Kannawitz,” he replied. “You expended stamina for no good reason.”

“My fault? How was I meant to stay calm when the province has such a vast ocean?”

“You have seen the ocean countless times since coming to Ahrensbach.”

“From the castle, sure, but never up close. And thanks to my divine power, the once murky waters turned clear blue and sparkling. Fish leapt out of the brine! It doesn’t even compare to anything I’ve seen before.”

The fishermen at sea had rejoiced and waved at us from their boats. I’d returned the gesture and given the province even more mana as a show of my appreciation. Ferdinand was right that I’d neglected to preserve my stamina, but why couldn’t I celebrate the birth of my fish paradise?

We returned to Rainbow Lessy and got ready for dinner. The retainers who had accompanied us gave Ella and Hugo our spoils: fresh fish we’d purchased from the fishermen. I planned to stash the ingredients in a time-stopping tool and enjoy them on the road.

“Here you are, Lady Rozemyne. And this is for you, Lord Ferdinand.”

As archducal family members, Ferdinand and I ate first. Once we were done, some of our knights would take their meals in another room while our other retainers continued to serve and guard, awaiting their turn. I tried to eat quickly so as not to delay them.

My hastily devoured meal soon turned into after-dinner tea, which I sipped while waiting for my retainers to finish eating. Eckhart and Laurenz were the first to rejoin us. The attendants refreshed our drinks one last time before leaving to have some food.

Lounging on one of my Pandahouse’s sofas, I took another drink of tea. I waited for Ferdinand to do the same before launching my attack.

“Now, let us discuss my library city.”

“Did you not just claim to be exhausted?” Ferdinand retorted. “We should avoid any subjects that might tire you further.”

“The salted fish Ella hurried to prepare has revitalized me. Besides, did you not promise we would discuss this tonight? I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

Ferdinand touched my forehead and wrists to inspect my health, then begrudgingly sat back down and produced sound-blockers. “Your ideas were Venezia and Alexandria, correct? Both have relatively normal pronunciations for someone with your naming sense. Where did they come from? Your world of dreams, I assume?”

“‘Relatively’? That’s a rude way to put it.”

“As I recall, when we were deciding on your noble name, not a single one of your suggestions made sense.”

I averted my eyes out of spite. In preparation for my noble persona, I’d proposed several names that I could use instead of “Myne.” I’d put so much thought into them, trying to come up with something that encapsulated my reappearing stronger than ever before, only for Ferdinand to tell me they were all unusable. The conversation stood out clearly in my mind...

But not the circumstances surrounding it.

There must be more to this. In fact, what drove me to become a noble in the first place?

Delia, Dirk, Count Bindewald, Bezewanst—faces from the temple arose in my mind. I remembered someone protecting me but not the first thing about them. The gaps in my memory caused an uncomfortable tickle in my chest.

Why did I join the temple? Oh, right. To read the bible and gain access to the book room.

Even my recollection of the events leading up to my entering the temple was full of gaps. At most, I remembered desperately seeking books after being reborn into a world without any.

“Rozemyne?”

Ferdinand’s voice brought me back to my senses. I could dig through my memories later. It probably wasn’t smart to think about something so anxiety-inducing while I was still under the influence of divine mana.

“The names,” I said. “Right. Alexandria was an ancient city. It had its own massive library replete with gardens and gathered reading material from all around the world. You could say it was exactly what I aim to achieve. Venezia, meanwhile, was a merchant city that had more bookstores than anywhere else once Gutenberg helped proliferate the printing industry. I want my new duchy to have just as many books, with trade bringing in more by the day.”

Ferdinand thought for a moment, then said with some trepidation, “I would not recommend Venezia. It sounds too much like a word used in Lanzenave. Even if we claimed it was taken from another language in the world of the gods, it would surely be misunderstood in ways that would trouble us.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.” I supposed that the English name, “Venice,” was also an option, but it didn’t sit right with me on a mystical aesthetic level. “Are we going with Alexandria, then?”

“Alexandria... Hmm... I would rather the name indicate some manner of connection to Ehrenfest, to make it easily apparent that an Ehrenfest archduke candidate claimed the foundation.”

My first thought was “Ehrendria,” but I quickly dismissed it. The name sounded more like a strange food product than anything else.

Consider that a lesson for you, Rozemyne! Don’t arbitrarily combine two words!

“I must insist on Alexandria,” I said. “The original city had gardens full of rare specimens, an abundance of research documents, and received travelers from all over. It perfectly suits a duchy being built around your lab, my library, and the Gutenbergs’ printing.”

Ferdinand sighed, having seen right through my desperate scramble to justify the name. “You sought my opinion yet appear to have already reached a verdict. Very well. You claimed the duchy to begin with, so I shall accept whatever name you desire—assuming it is not outrageously offensive.”

“I thank you ever so much. Let us start planning the construction of Alexandria.”

A slight frown creased Ferdinand’s brow. “You seem more attached to your previous world than usual...”

“Because of my lost memories, I’d assume. The most I remember about my days as a commoner are dipping my toes in merchantry and spending time in the temple. My thoughts of the past are mostly from when I was Urano and reading was more important to me than absolutely anything else.”

My days as Myne were a blur, but my memories since becoming Rozemyne seemed mostly untouched. If, as Ferdinand claimed, Mestionora had severed my memories of everyone and everything I cared about more than books, then I must have treasured a lot from when I was a commoner. My hairpin craftsperson and dyer were apparently included, but what did that mean? Who had they been to me?

“Well, it isn’t impacting my day-to-day life, at least.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “There have been many occasions today when you have said or done things I would never have expected from you, likely because your core memories have been removed. This is sure to cause problems in the future.”

I was compelled to ask for examples but couldn’t get the words out. The last thing I wanted was for Ferdinand to turn around and start rejecting me. Instead, I smiled and changed the subject.

“There’s no point dwelling on it now, is there? We can’t make any headway on my lost memories until we’ve rid me of this divine power. On a more important note, what should the new duchy’s color be? In the past, it matched the divine color of the country gate, so maybe we should go with something close to black.” Pure black was still associated with the royals, so it would probably be best to avoid that.

Ferdinand eyed me carefully. “If we plan to take that approach, we should advise the Sovereignty to change its color to white in accordance with its move to the Royal Academy. Zents historically wore white, in case you were unaware.”

“If we announce that, we’ll need to wear white ourselves.” It had once been the norm for Zent candidates to dress in white after obtaining their Books of Mestionora so that Ewigeliebe wouldn’t attack them. Zents and aubs had worn the same color, which explained why High Bishop robes were also white.

Again, Ferdinand shook his head. “If we adhere fully to the old ways, then that rule will apply only to you. Lady Eglantine did not obtain her Book of Mestionora, and mine is being kept hidden from the public.”

“I see... I’d much rather it apply to the whole Sovereignty.” If nobody else in Yurgenschmidt wore white, I would feel like an outcast. I just wanted to set up my library city and then read with all my friends.

“If you would rather your duchy’s color be only close to black, then why not use the color of your hair?” Ferdinand asked. “You have the same dusky locks as Mestionora, whose flowing tresses had the blessing of the God of Darkness. I can think of no better color for her avatar.” He reached out and stroked my hair as though it were the most natural thing in the world, then regretfully added, “But alas, no longer would the hue stand out against your clothes.”

Wait... Has he always been the kind of person to just reach out and touch someone’s hair?

“Is something the matter, Rozemyne?”

“No, nothing. If my hair and clothes blend together, that’s fine with me. In a world where all nobles must wear their duchy’s color, such problems are inevitable.” Truth be told, I couldn’t have been less invested.

Ferdinand didn’t respond. He brushed a few errant strands out of my eyes.

“As for the crest,” I continued, “I wish to use Lessy.”

Ferdinand pulled away at once, his arm recoiling like a snake. “Absolutely not. Future generations of Aub Alexandria will need to use your crest; I shall not doom them to bear gruns on their chests for the sake of your strange tastes. If you would rather not tie your duchy to Ehrenfest through its name, then at least inherit its lions. Or use shumils in honor of those library magic tools.”

I’d thought a red panda would suit my duchy better than anything else, but Ferdinand disagreed. He’d rejected the idea so forcefully—and moved so quickly on to proposing alternatives—that I already knew he wasn’t going to budge on the matter.

“You told me before that shumils are too weak to be used in a duchy’s crest.”

“Yes, the ones found in the wild. The magic tools, on the other hand, are exceptionally strong. You need only add feystones to their foreheads to make the distinction clear.”

Given his firm stance before, I’d never expected such an abrupt one-eighty. “Do you really hate Lessy that much?!”

“You are not the only one who would need to wear that wretched grun. If you are insistent, ask the opinion of any of your retainers. Not one of them will support you.”

I put the sound-blocker aside and turned to Laurenz and Eckhart, who were standing nearby as our guards. Lieseleta and some of the others who had finished eating came over to see what I wanted.

“Attention, everyone!” I called out. “Between my Pandabus and the library’s shumils, what would you rather see on Alexandria’s crest?”

They all exchanged looks, then answered in unison: “The library’s shumils.”

“The idea sounds delightful,” Lieseleta added.

“Perhaps, but Ferdinand once said that a crest should show its duchy’s strength,” I retorted.

Gretia smiled. “According to Judithe, the scythe-wielding magic tool was remarkably strong. Perhaps we could add a scythe to the crest.”

Please, no!

“I would much rather give them books!” I cried.

“An excellent idea, Lady Rozemyne,” Laurenz said, clapping his hands together with a bright smile. “That sounds like the perfect crest for your library city!”

“Shumils and a book...” Gretia mused. “Given the circumstances, should we have the latter be the Grutrissheit?”

“It’s too detailed and would only cause problems down the line,” Eckhart replied, dismissing the proposal at once.

“Yeah,” Laurenz added. “A duchy not run by the Zent using the Grutrissheit in its crest seems a little...”

Lieseleta rested a hand on her cheek. “Could we take inspiration from the crest of the Rozemyne Workshop? Books, ink, and plants—incorporating those themes might be wise.”

“A most commendable idea,” Ferdinand said with a nod.

As I stared at them all in confusion, Ferdinand and my retainers made brisk progress on formalizing the crest. They weren’t even considering my Pandabus anymore. “Would using Lessy really be that bad...?” I asked, but it was already too late; not one of them even acknowledged my question.