Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.11 - Chapter 2

Terms for the New Zent

Once we’d eaten lunch, which was made all the better by reports about the current state of affairs, the attendants brought us tea and some desserts. Then our retainers took their leave; the discussion we were about to have concerned matters far too sensitive for their ears, and we could always contact them by ordonnanz if necessary.

In no time at all, the population of our meeting was a mere fraction of what it had been before. I gazed around the quiet tea party room and slowly inhaled.

“Now, let us discuss who shall take the throne,” I said. “As you already know, Mestionora descended into my body on the day of the fighting. Both she and Erwaermen made it clear that they want a true Zent to rule as soon as—”

“Then give Father the Grutrissheit and—”

“Prince Sigiswald,” Adolphine interjected, “you mustn’t interrupt those who rank above you.”

The first prince’s eyes widened in shock; he must never have encountered someone with a higher status than himself and his father. He seemed to notice that everyone was looking at him because he sat bolt upright, apologized to me, and made a gesture urging me to continue.

“The gods want a Zent who can dye Yurgenschmidt’s foundation,” I said. “It seems the royal family has been supplying not the true foundation but something else, and the country will soon run out of mana and collapse.”

The royals all gasped, their eyes wide open. Only now were they learning that the “foundation” they had desperately channeled their mana into for so long was meant for something else.

“That said, the place you supplied is not completely disconnected from the foundation,” I explained. “The replenishment hall in the Sovereignty’s palace is connected to the prayer hall in the Sovereign temple, and a certain magic tool in said prayer hall connects to the Royal Academy’s replenishment hall. From there, mana travels to the foundation. The magic tool that transports mana requires mana to be used, so some portion of yours has reached the core foundation... just not nearly enough to actually support the country.”

Too much mana was lost before it reached Yurgenschmidt’s foundational magic in the Royal Academy. Some had made it, but that knowledge came as little solace to the exhausted royals.

“Then it is all the more crucial that the Grutrissheit be—”

“Indeed, a new Zent must be chosen posthaste. Please understand, however, that whoever takes the throne will need to accede to the gods’ demands.”

“‘The gods’ demands’?” Anastasius repeated.

I nodded, and everyone sat up straighter than ever. It was nice that they were taking things seriously, but I couldn’t help feeling that I was deceiving them; these were technically Ferdinand’s demands, as he’d no doubt interpreted the gods’ words in whatever way was most convenient for him.

“First,” I said, “the foundation must be filled as quickly as possible. Second, the Lanzenavians with mana must be accepted into Yurgenschmidt. Third, no lives are to be taken as punishment for this rebellion. And fourth, the Zents to follow must be candidates who obtain Mestionora’s wisdom through their own power. That about sums it up.”

Trauerqual stared at me in shock. “I can understand needing to fill the foundation, but the Lanzenavians are criminals who invaded our country...” he spat. “None of the duchies would accept them as nobles, not even by Mestionora’s command.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “We must accept them into Yurgenschmidt. But we are under no obligation to treat them like nobles.”

“Then how should we treat them? I was told some of them have schtappes.”

“They did not attend the Royal Academy and instead obtained them by manipulating Prince Hildebrand. We need only seal their schtappes as we have done with the prince. From there, they can be chained up in cells and drained of mana, or perhaps turned into Sovereign priests and shrine maidens so they can supply Yurgenschmidt directly. Neither the goddess nor Erwaermen specified how they were to be treated.”

Sick of being used as mana batteries, Lanzenave’s royals had invaded Yurgenschmidt in the hope of acquiring their freedom. Their failure would see them doomed to the same fate once again. It was tragically ironic, and I genuinely felt bad for them, but I saw no reason to speak up in protest; the Lanzenavians had sown the seeds of their own demise, and their fate was nothing compared to that of the Ahrensbach nobles who were brutally murdered overnight. Besides, all Yurgenschmidt nobles dedicated mana to the land in one form or another—what more could our enemies expect?

“So you would propose keeping them alive and taking their mana?” Sigiswald asked. His face clouded with concern. “Yurgenschmidt needs as much as it can get, but I worry that will breed an entire generation of resentment...”

“I agree,” Eglantine added. “This feels too dangerous.” They were probably so apprehensive because royals and top-ranking duchies were taught that mass executions were normal and the proper way of dealing with such problems, but I couldn’t see where they were coming from.

“Hm? I understand that purges are meant to stop resentment from seeping into the future, but was it not a purge that led to the royal family losing the Grutrissheit and Yurgenschmidt being thrust into a mana crisis?” I asked. “You cannot throw aside so many lives and so much knowledge without consequence. There is still resentment festering within the deposed duchies and those on the losing side, and executing those who were guilty only by association created more resentment than it erased. If you think taking even more lives will solve the problem, then I really am tempted to laugh.”

The royals froze. They hadn’t been joking and wanted to perform yet another mass execution. I was so glad the Goddess of Wisdom had forbidden the taking of any more lives.

“The royal family is to blame for Yurgenschmidt being in such grave danger,” I continued. “That must be clear to you by now. Unless none of you see the error of your ways—in which case, I am quite frankly aghast.”

They averted their gazes. I could see Sylvester gawking in terror out of the corner of my eye. It seemed unwise for an aub to be expressing his emotions so openly during a meeting like this; he should have been more dignified and exuded more authority.

“Though our perspectives on this matter are not the same,” I said, “I respect how much work the royal family has put into maintaining Yurgenschmidt despite lacking the Grutrissheit. I wanted to grant the book to one of you to make the transition of power as peaceful as can be, but as Ferdinand warned...” I placed a troubled hand on my cheek. “I am growing somewhat uneasy. Yurgenschmidt’s current political system is a distorted travesty. We swore to Erwaermen that we would use this opportunity to restore the old ways.”

We hadn’t made a formal declaration, but I didn’t think I was lying to anyone. Erwaermen wanted more Zent candidates to obtain the Book of Mestionora, and Ferdinand declared that he intended to help.

“‘The old ways’?”

Everyone looked unsure about what I meant—everyone except Ferdinand, who had written the script I was reading from. I inspected the room, then declared what was expected from the new Zent.

“Indeed. The royal family must be abolished, and Zents shall no longer be chosen hereditarily. Candidates will need to obtain the Book of Mestionora themselves.”

The blood drained from Sigiswald’s face. Adolphine, his first wife, was already wearing a look of resignation.

I continued, “The Sovereign temple will return to the Royal Academy—which was and always has been Yurgenschmidt’s holy land—and the Zent shall once again serve as the Sovereign High Bishop. They will dedicate themselves to reviving old rituals and fill the country with mana. None of you take issue, I assume. There was a time when you all discussed having me become the Sovereign High Bishop.”

Several of the royals had turned ghostly white. Sylvester and Florencia, meanwhile, looked like their souls had left their bodies; they wore vague smiles and stared into empty space, having given up on getting involved with the conversation.

“In line with these changes, the royal palace and its villas will be sealed, and the Zent’s family will move to the Royal Academy. The palace and its villas were built by a Zent who feared assassination and wanted to escape their political enemies to preserve their newly founded dynasty. Under the new system, the Zent will not live off of the Sovereignty’s Central District; instead, they will receive taxes gathered from all of the duchies. Aubs support themselves in the same manner—and if the Zent finds themselves in need of more funds, they can earn more money through their own endeavors.”

“Rozemyne,” Ferdinand warned.

Oops... I miiight have strayed from the script a little. Still, I think this is a good opportunity for nobles of top-ranking duchies to start thinking about earning their own money.

“Thus, the new Zent will need to live in a way that completely shatters the concept of the royal family constructed across recent generations. Do any of you volunteer for the role?”

The royals exchanged glances. Though the person who received the Grutrissheit would become the new Zent, they would not live as they were all used to. They were apprehensive about putting themselves forward.

“If one of you volunteers,” I noted, “we shall conceal the royal family’s misdeeds so your rule goes unfettered and ensure that all royals except the Zent and their family become the aubs of previously deposed duchies. Otherwise, we will publish your actions and spread them throughout the country until the other duchies agree to dissolve the royal family. We shall make Aub Dunkelfelger an interim Zent and embroider his contributions to the war to make him a hero.”

As the royal family sat in silence, too stunned to even speak, I felt a slap on my thigh. Ferdinand was wearing the same radiant smile that told me he was furious.

“Rozemyne,” he said, “your explanation was painfully lacking.”

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Ferdinand had gone from scolding me for saying too much to chastising me for not saying enough. I couldn’t win. Nonetheless, I was committed to acting like a goddess, and it seemed very much in character for the Divine Avatar of Mestionora to distribute published goods across the country.

“Oh my... But using printed goods to manipulate the public is the most basic of basic strategies. I would also consider it a fine opportunity to spread awareness of the printing industry. Is it not a fitting approach for me to take as an avatar of the Goddess of Wisdom? I already commissioned the author of A Ditter Story to write a new book capturing Dunkelfelger’s heroics during the war.”

“Come again?!” Aub Dunkelfelger exclaimed. “We’re the protagonists of the next volume?! We must buy up all the copies!”

“To what end...?” Sieglinde asked, wearing the same look of exasperation I normally saw from Ferdinand. “The books are meant to inform the public.”

“The world would surely end if you were given power...” Ferdinand muttered to me with a glare before turning his attention to the royals. “As you fear, if someone outside your family becomes the new Zent, the public will resent you for not being able to forestall a foreign invasion. To prevent the dissatisfied nobles from rising up and plunging the country into another civil war, we will need to relegate you all to an ivory tower. You can rest assured, though—as per our promise with the gods, not a single criminal will face execution.”

Ferdinand spoke with an evil smile that made his true meaning clear: he would spare their lives but do nothing to make them enjoyable. The royals paled, so I rushed to clarify. I certainly didn’t intend for them to be tortured.

“As this is only to avoid a civil war, we can guarantee that those who did not commit any crimes will continue to live prosperously. I even spoke with Ferdinand and managed to secure some nice perks for anyone who ends up in an ivory tower. Two meals a day and an entire book to read!”

A cold silence fell over the room.

Wh-What? Why aren’t they rejoicing? I worked so hard to negotiate for their sake...

The royals weren’t the only ones muttering in disbelief; those from Ehrenfest and Dunkelfelger seemed just as taken aback. They must not have cared about getting books in prison.

Hmph! It’s because you don’t read that you all understand so little about ancient language! You get what you deserve!

Amid the awkwardness, Eglantine placed a hand on her cheek and looked at Ferdinand and me. “Um, Lady Rozemyne... Might I ask a question?”

“Yes, very well. You can each receive two books.”

“Erm, no... I remember it came up during one of our previous discussions that performing dedication whirls en masse and selecting Zent candidates from other duchies would cause chaos. Yet here you are proposing that future Zents be chosen from outside the royal family. Is that not contradictory? I wish to know how this will not simply bring about more disputes in the future.”

Eglantine’s question didn’t surprise me; she despised war above all else. Ferdinand had predicted what she would ask and prepared a response for me, so I mentally repeated what we had discussed during our preliminary meeting.

“Even now, I consider it best for someone among the royal family to become the next Zent. I would rather we avoid disputes where we can. But more than a year has passed since the means to obtain the Grutrissheit was unearthed, and even now, not a single one of you has acquired it.”

Ferdinand glared at me.

Ngh... I get it, okay? Eglantine is the closest to the Grutrissheit, since she was born with all the elements. Saying it outright just feels mean, though.

Besides, everyone understood without me having to say it. I returned my focus to Eglantine and gestured for her to respond.

“No, we have not,” she said. “But only because we agreed the Zent would adopt you. We were going to obtain it through you.”

“In other words,” Ferdinand interjected, “you planned to have someone outside the royal family obtain the Grutrissheit. Back then, I really did think it best for the royal family to secure it... but never in my wildest dreams had it entered my head that you were all so lazy, greedy, and selfish.”

“Excuse me?!” Sylvester exclaimed, snapping out of the stupor my rampage had inspired.

Ferdinand merely smiled and continued. The script he’d written for me had sounded provocative enough, but his remarks were just plain hostile. Gone was his surface-level politeness; he was treating the royals like incompetent fools. I couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

“I conveyed what was necessary for the royal family to obtain the Grutrissheit without causing discord. I also accepted the royal decree to go to Ahrensbach to prove I did not intend to incite a rebellion. And yet...” Ferdinand paused, and a broad smile spread across his face. “Even with the information I provided, all of you decided to claim the Grutrissheit through Rozemyne rather than acquire it yourselves. She had promised to defend Ehrenfest in my stead only for you to force her into a nightmarish engagement for the sake of adopting her. King Trauerqual, can you imagine how I felt upon hearing that? I agreed to leave Ehrenfest to protect it, but you put the entire duchy in danger in my absence. Take a moment to consider my reaction.”

Ferdinand was focused not on Eglantine, who had asked the question to begin with, but on Trauerqual. The king hung his head, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Lord Ferdinand,” Magdalena interjected. “Even under these circumstances, you are being far too rude. You sit before the Zent.”

Trauerqual shook his head. “You may not know this, Magdalena, as you are excluded from socializing... but I really have demanded a lot from this man.”

“Then I spoke out of turn. My apologies.”

“King Trauerqual, might I ask what those demands were?” Sylvester inquired, having been denied entrance to that fateful meeting. “As his elder brother and Aub Ehrenfest, I think I have the right to know.”

The king looked at Ferdinand, engaged in some kind of mental debate, then slowly shook his head. “In return for accepting my demands, Lord Ferdinand asked that I never repeat them. I do not intend to violate that now. I shan’t anger him or the Divine Avatar of Mestionora more than I already have.”

Ferdinand nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “To answer your question, Lady Eglantine, I think some internal disputes are preferable to the royals continuing to sit on their hands as the country crumbles around them, knowing full well how to obtain the Grutrissheit.”

“I see...”

“That said... if you would rather preserve the royal family’s claim to the throne, there are some methods you could use. The assigned Zent could simply ensure their children obtain more complete Books of Mestionora than any of the other candidates.”

In other words, the royals could actually start putting in the work. Eglantine daintily and quizzically cocked her head.

“I would consider it best for the royal family to strive to produce future Zents,” I said. “Though I intend to fix Yurgenschmidt’s distorted government and publicize how to obtain the Book of Mestionora, members of the former royal family need not vanish from the stage.”

“Could you elaborate on what you mean by ‘distorted government’?” Ferdinand asked, prompting me to continue.

I explained how Zents across history had slowly warped the process of ascending to the throne. The royals must not have known in the slightest; the palace’s library contained only the documents their forebears had taken with them when they first moved away from the holy land.

Sigiswald looked as though he’d just been struck by lightning, but he quickly returned to his senses. “O avatar of Mestionora, I understand now that the gods wish to dismantle the royal family. It would be my honor to become the next Zent and restore the old ways, as per the wishes of the divine.”

Ferdinand raised an eyebrow.

Anastasius gave the first prince a look of concern. “Brother, you—”

“People all across the country expect me to become the next Zent,” Sigiswald continued, interrupting his brother’s plea with a calm smile. “Thus, there is no one better suited to the task. Do you not agree, Anastasius?”

The second prince fell silent and cast his eyes down, having lost the will to speak. Sigiswald must have interpreted that as acquiescence because he returned to addressing me with a wider smile.

“Though I will conform to the old ways, the blame for this invasion lies primarily with Ahrensbach. I do not agree with the royal family bearing the full weight of the burden.”

“Brother!” Anastasius cried.

“Certainly, the Sovereign knight commander’s betrayal created this mess, but it was Ehrenfest and Dunkelfelger who sprang into action to stop him. Does the fault not lie with those of Ahrensbach who failed to vanquish the Lanzenavians in their duchy? Should they not be punished before anyone in the royal family?”

Sigiswald punctuated his argument with a sharp look at Ferdinand, not even trying to be subtle. He genuinely seemed to believe that Ferdinand was to blame for not controlling Detlinde and forestalling the invasion. I could tell that he was used to ordering others around and didn’t expect anyone to challenge his word as the first prince. His life up until this point—his experiences and the way he was raised—had given him that mindset.

Prince Sigiswald really doesn’t know his place, does he? Is this any way to act when he’s trying to get a divine avatar’s approval to serve as the next Zent?

Still, I wasn’t sure whether I could chastise him. My understanding of how royals thought and made decisions was flimsy at best. I glanced at Ferdinand, who was now wearing a dazzling smile.

Uh-oh. He’s out for blood.

“Very well,” he said. “Ahrensbach is prepared to deliver you its prisoners. We shall transfer them to the Sovereignty as soon as you give the word.”

In other words, “If you want to punish them, hurry up and do it already. You’re the only ones we’re waiting on.”

Books aside, nothing could convince me to oppose Ferdinand when he was this furious. Our good friend Sigiswald must have been especially courageous. He failed to sense the extreme malice seeping through Ferdinand’s smile, but he must have understood the subtext, at the very least; he hesitated a little before continuing.

“I am referring not to the culprits themselves but to you, Lord Ferdinand, who married into Ahrensbach to support the next aub. Are you not aware of your own crimes?”

At last, something snapped inside of me. Sigiswald had failed his most basic duties as a prince; what gave him the right to disrespect someone who had moved to another duchy and worked his fingers to the bone at the demand of a royal decree? I wasn’t about to let that slide.

“Prince Sigiswald... Did you just accuse Ferdinand of not carrying out his duties?”

The prince stared at me, surprised that I was getting involved. Anastasius, meanwhile, put his head in his hands and groaned. If he had wanted to spare his brother the embarrassment to come, he should have intervened when he had the chance.

I continued, “It was your family’s royal decree that put Ferdinand to work in Ahrensbach before he could marry into the duchy and acquire citizenship there. And even when his wedding was delayed, he was not granted the common courtesy of returning home. Those despicable actions were the reason he ended up poisoned and needed to rush into battle with little to no time to recover. Can you really claim that someone who gathered and commanded volunteers from two duchies—who contributed so much to a victory that even you admit saved Yurgenschmidt—failed to carry out his duties?”

“Lady Rozemyne is correct,” Aub Dunkelfelger added. “Lord Ferdinand smote the Lanzenavian soldiers in Ahrensbach, chased away the Ahrensbach soldiers who invaded Ehrenfest, and then captured the Lanzenavians attempting to obtain the Book of Mestionora in the Sovereignty. Considering that he was merely engaged to the future Aub Ahrensbach, not married to her, one could say he over-performed. Any of my knights who fought alongside him will testify that he spared not even a moment to rest.”

“Interesting...” Sigiswald replied, but the look in his eyes was entirely unconvinced.

“Prince Sigiswald,” I said, “I must ask, while Lord Ferdinand was carrying out the duties thrust upon him by royal decree, what were you and the rest of the royal family doing? Might I remind you that both Ehrenfest and Dunkelfelger warned you of the danger to come.”

If anyone had abandoned their obligations, it certainly hadn’t been Ferdinand or me. The prince openly opposed the idea that the royal family was to blame, but again, what in the world had they been up to?

Sigiswald merely twitched a little. Maybe my stern glare was overwhelming him. In any case, it gave me the perfect opportunity to hammer home my argument.

“Despite our warnings, the royals failed to notice Raublut’s betrayal or the proliferation of trug in the Sovereignty. You were foolishly deceived into allowing the Lanzenavians to obtain their schtappes, then abandoned your duty to protect Yurgenschmidt’s foundation so you could hole up in the royal palace. Name one thing the lot of you achieved. I was there during the battle for the auditorium, doing whatever I could to fight back the invaders. Pray tell, Prince Sigiswald—where were you?”

“As a prince, I was directing Sovereign nobles from within... my...” He fell silent, unable to contend with my knowing smile. By deciding to remain in his villa, he had relinquished any claim to having defended Yurgenschmidt.

“You were acting with your own safety in mind, having completely disregarded the country and its people. Zents and aubs have one duty more crucial than any other: protecting their foundations. The moment you prioritized your villas, you failed as royals. Do you understand me?”

“Rozemyne, that is enough,” Ferdinand warned me, lightly tugging on my sleeve. “Your chastisement as a divine avatar is draining the life from the other royals.”

I cast my eyes around the room and saw that, indeed, the others looked extremely unwell. “You have a point. However, their unreasonable demands and ridiculous expectations since the civil war have caused so much more harm. Countless people lost their lives—a much worse fate than simply feeling a little sick. Let them pale in the face of their crimes.”

Ferdinand stood up and grabbed my arm. On closer inspection, he looked pale too, and there was urgency in his eyes that anyone would have noticed.

Wait a second... Ferdinand looks just as disturbed as the royals.

“Rozemyne, are you aware that your eyes have changed color?” he asked. “Do you realize the divine power radiating from your mana is swelling and Crushing all those in the room?”

I was angry with Sigiswald, but no, those things hadn’t occurred to me at all. I guessed the first prince’s trembling wasn’t because he felt ashamed of the misdeeds being thrust in his face.

“No...” I replied. “None of that was my intention.”

Trauerqual slowly raised a hand, barely able to keep his breathing steady as he endured my Crushing. “Do permit me to speak, Lady Rozemyne.” His polite request made Sigiswald once again look like he’d been struck by Verdrenna’s lightning.

“Go on,” I said.

“Please forgive my foolish son for not realizing the severity of his misdeeds. In the first place, there is no need to take his thoughtless words to heart; we have already sworn not to punish Lord Ferdinand for any of the crimes Detlinde committed.”

The king’s words brought me comfort. And now that he mentioned it, though my recollection was still clouded, I vaguely remembered the existence of such a promise. Ferdinand was going to be safe, no matter what anyone said.

I sighed in relief, and everyone else did too. They were free from my Crushing at last.