Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.11 - Chapter 3

Goddess-Dyed Mana and Name-Swearing

Ferdinand peered at my face, looking as serious as ever, then muttered that my eye color had returned to normal. I thought he would be glad, but some of the urgency in his expression remained. What was going on?

“Rozemyne, it would seem you are less able to control your goddess-dyed mana. The divine power inside you swells when you get emotional. If it continues to grow, there is a chance you will cease to be yourself. Please, control your feelings as well as you can.”

The thought alone sent a shiver down my spine. Could that mean losing even more of my memories? Or something even worse? The severity with which Ferdinand spoke made me think I’d already started acting strangely in some way.

Gah! That’s terrifying!

Fear swept over me, and that was all it took. Ferdinand gasped and shouted, “Rozemyne!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw people grimace and clutch their chests, and groans rang out from all around me. I must have been Crushing them again, but I wasn’t angry in the slightest. I’d simply felt the pangs of anxiety.

“N-No... I didn’t m-mean to...” I stammered. My fear was hurting everyone in the room, which made me even more afraid of the divine power coursing through me.

“Control your emotions, Rozemyne,” Ferdinand said, grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me so I couldn’t see everyone’s suffering. His face was twisted in pain, and sweat ran in rivulets down his brow. Even he, of all people, was in too much agony to maintain a calm expression.

“Ferdinand. Let go,” I said. “Being this close to me must make it hurt even more.” He was precious to me, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause him pain. I smacked his hands in a desperate attempt to escape.

Ferdinand couldn’t even respond anymore; he merely choked in response. The sound stirred my memories, bringing to mind vague images of when I’d stood against him and the late High Bishop in the temple. I’d just finished my baptism and was trying to protect some people... but who was I protecting now? I was hurting those around me for no good reason. My body screamed at me to stop, but I didn’t know how to control the power within me.

“Use the powers you’ve been gifted right, and protect this city.”

“I won’t use them to do anything you’d get mad about. I promise.”

An old vow suddenly reappeared in my mind. It felt important, somehow, and the fact I’d now broken it made me so frustrated that I wanted to cry. I couldn’t let my emotions spiral even further out of control, but I didn’t know how to manage them.

“Please, Ferdinand... Get away from me. I made a promise to someone, somewhere. I promised to use my powers to protect people, not hurt them.”

I could tell from Ferdinand’s grim pallor that more and more divine power was leaking out of me. He spluttered, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, once again reminding me of the past.

“GET AWAY!” I screamed, striking his hands before at last managing to wriggle out of his embrace. I shot to my feet, and my chair toppled over with a loud clatter.

How can I stop hurting everyone? How far do I need to run?

I scanned the room, looking for some way to escape. Sprinting into the corridor was an option, but the door was across the table from me; I would need to run past everyone, causing them even more pain in the process. The door behind me led to the dormitory, but I would end up Crushing everyone inside. I was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Ferdinand gazed down at his hands, then wiped the blood from his mouth and turned to Sylvester. “Aub Ehrenfest! Permit Hartmut’s group to enter!”

“Get in here, Hartmut!” Sylvester exclaimed to an ordonnanz. He sent it with one hand while clutching his chest with the other.

Before the bird could possibly have finished delivering its message, the door to the dormitory burst open. In came Hartmut, Clarissa, Matthias, Laurenz, Roderick, and Gretia.

“Excuse me,” Hartmut said.

“No! Everyone, get away from—!”

“Fear not, Lady Rozemyne. We are enveloped in your divine mana at all times, so your heightened emotions do nothing but allow us to feel even greater divinity.”

Hartmut then gave me a reassuring smile while he and the other men circled me, separating me from the rest of the room. They must have stopped my divine mana from reaching everyone else because the groaning soon came to an end. Knowing that the others were okay helped to ease my worries.

And it doesn’t look like Hartmut and my other retainers are in pain...

Hartmut and Laurenz wore encouraging smiles. Roderick and Matthias looked extremely serious, but not because my divine power was hurting them; they were just determined to carry out their duty.

“Lord Ferdinand told us to wait outside in case we were needed,” Clarissa explained, smiling so brightly that I almost thought she might start humming. “We expected the overwhelming allure of your divinity to be too much for lesser beings to bear. Aah... I always wanted to experience taking care of you like an attendant.”

She held up and spread out some silver cloth. Her bright smile eased the weight on my chest. I was glad to know there were people I could be around without needing to worry about hurting them. The fear and isolation that had been welling up inside of me began to fade.

“Lady Rozemyne,” Gretia said, “Lieseleta had the cloth fashioned into a cloak so that you could wear it more discreetly. I shall put it on you now... though it is a shame to hide your new clothes...”

Gretia fastened the cloak around my shoulders, smoothed out any lingering creases, and then wiped the last of the tears from my eyes. She normally worked in silence, so her attempt to calm me down meant she was stepping outside her comfort zone. It warmed my heart to see how much she cared.

“I thank you all ever so much.”

“Oh, Lady Rozemyne. You need not feel grateful,” Clarissa said. “Your meeting would not be able to progress if everyone fainted in awe of your stunning new form. Such is the fate of Mestionora’s avatar, who acts with the favor of each of the g—”

“Lord Ferdinand, how does it look?” Gretia asked, interrupting Clarissa’s sermon. “Leaving her face exposed will allow others to feel her divine mana without it overwhelming them.”

Ferdinand inspected the cloak and nodded. “That will do. Thank you.”

“Lady Rozemyne, might you perform some divine healing to reward your considerate retainers?” Hartmut asked with a teasing wink. Despite his bantering tone, he was watching me like a hawk, searching for the slightest reaction. He had phrased it as a joke so I could easily refuse if necessary.

“I thank you ever so much, Hartmut.”

“It is my honor.”

I cast the spell to form Flutrane’s staff, then started reciting the relevant prayer. “O Heilschmerz, subordinate to Flutrane the Goddess of Water...” I would normally have said more, but that was enough for light to emerge from the staff’s green feystone and rain down on everyone in the room.

Color returned to the faces of everyone seated around the table, and they all gasped for air. The healing had worked.

“Aah, such beauty!” Hartmut cried. “An act so holy could only ever be accredited to one with permission to use all the divine instru—”

“Good job,” Sylvester interjected, waving away the overeager scholar. “Everyone, drag Hartmut back into the dormitory. We need to continue our meeting.”

So it was done. Hartmut’s earlier air of competence seemed to vanish as Matthias and Laurenz took him by the arms and Roderick urged him out of the room. Sylvester called in attendants to replace them, then requested some fresh tea for us all. The tension among us had finally dissipated.

“Please sit down, Lady Rozemyne,” Clarissa said. I nodded and let her escort me back to my seat; Gretia had already righted my chair for me.

“Oh...”

Before sitting down, I’d made eye contact with Ferdinand. He had reached out to help me only to have his hands callously smacked away. It was so awkward that I didn’t know how to react.

“Um, Ferdinand... Are your hands okay? I, er...”

“Heilschmerz did away with any aches I might have been feeling. There is no need to get upset so soon after your retainers calmed you down.”

Ferdinand took my hand from Clarissa’s before gesturing for my retainers to step back as he sat me back down. I stared intently at his face to make sure he really was alright; knowing him, he would claim to be fine even if my divine mana was still wearing him down.

“There is no need to fret,” Ferdinand assured me. “Now that you have your cloak, there is no chance of your mana hurting anyone.”

I grabbed the silver cloth and squeezed it tight. “I should have worn it from the start, then...”

Ferdinand exchanged a bemused glance with Sylvester. “Silver cloth invariably makes one think of the Lanzenavians, so wearing it when you first arrived at the meeting might have given the wrong impression. Now that everyone has experienced the power of your divine mana, however, not a single person will tell you to remove it.”

That might be true, but did you have to resort to something so drastic?

There must have been a solution that didn’t involve an entire room of people getting hurt. Ferdinand and Sylvester seemed to disagree, though.

“That reminds me,” Ferdinand continued. “Rozemyne, hold out your hands. If you feel you are about to lose control of your divine mana again, use this.”

“Did you plan countermeasures other than the silver cloth?”

Ferdinand gave me a sound-blocker and a white box. I went to open the latter to see what was inside, but it sucked out my mana and started turning into a white cocoon. I’d seen this happen enough times to know what I was looking at: it was a name stone.

“F-Ferdinand, what’s the meaning of this?” I asked.

“I need a way to reach you in the case of an emergency.”

“Maybe so, but you can just call others like Sylvester did, or—”

“Quiet,” Ferdinand said, pinching my cheek.

I pursed my lips. “Name-swearing isn’t meant to be done as some kind of... of... surprise attack. It’s supposed to be, like, a super important ceremony. Should you not understand its significance, considering how many have given their names to you?”

Several of my retainers had given their names to me, and not a single one of them had taken the decision lightly. Ferdinand must have known that much, especially when Eckhart and the others in his retinue were so loyal to him. Giving me his name purely out of convenience—I saw no reason to believe he wanted me to have it—was like stomping on the sanctity of the vow. The more I thought about it, the sadder it made me.

“Keep it until the divinity fades from your mana,” Ferdinand said. “That is all I ask.”

“Still, using it as a tool is just...”

“Again, it will only be until your divinity fades. If you dislike it that much, then you can use the stone to order me to take it back.”

“I don’t want a master-servant relationship with someone who’s basically family to me...”

Drawing that line had caused drastic changes in my relationships with Philine and Damuel. The relaxed air between us had vanished along with any hope I had of becoming their friends. I didn’t even want to think about the same thing happening with Ferdinand. And above all else, I didn’t want to give him orders after seeing how bitter he was about the royal family messing him around.

“Give up for now,” Ferdinand said obstinately. “You started it by exploiting name-swearing to save my life. It will not be for long, in any case.”

He took the sound-blocker back from me and returned to his seat. It had been an emergency, but I couldn’t exactly deny that I’d taken his name to begin with. I squeezed his name stone and sighed.

“Now then, is everyone ready to continue?” Ferdinand asked once we had sipped our tea and dismissed our attendants. Sigiswald had declared that he was willing to become the Zent, so we picked up our discussion with whether he was a valid candidate.

“Does this mean Sigiswald will take the throne?” Trauerqual asked. He and Ralfrieda, his first wife, looked at Ferdinand with extreme concern. “That sounds, um...”

“If nobody else wants to volunteer, then yes. We want a royal to become the next Zent and shape Yurgenschmidt as the gods desire. If we have a viable candidate, we shall give them the crown.”

Sigiswald nodded. “I am the obvious choice, as the entire country already recognizes me as its future king. You may rest assured, Father—I shall take over as the Zent and save Yurgenschmidt.” He wore his usual calm smile, though I couldn’t quite understand why he was acting so proud. The role would require him to dismantle his own family’s rule.

“In that case,” I said, “to ensure you faithfully carry out the will of the gods, we must have you swear an oath to the Goddess of Light and Gebordnung the Goddess of Order. Using contract magic, of course.”

“Contract magic...?”

“Indeed. We cannot risk our new Zent ignoring the gods or postponing their demands indefinitely when my divine mana fades. Having them forge a binding agreement with the gods is the obvious solution.”

The prince’s contract wouldn’t be with me. Instead, he would make a vow to the gods—one much stricter than any sort of agreement between humans. There wouldn’t be any loopholes to exploit, and any violations would be met with divine judgment.

Sigiswald went pale. Was he afraid of contract magic or just shocked that he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of us the moment he came into power?

“Oho...” Aub Dunkelfelger smiled wryly. “Anyone who agrees to carry out the gods’ demands should expect to enter a contract with them.”

“Indeed,” his wife agreed. “Perhaps the new Zent could address the country’s aubs and outline his plans for Yurgenschmidt’s future before he obtains his Grutrissheit. To ensure the duchies know what is expected of them.”

And with that, the magic contract was set in stone.

Sigiswald balled his hands into tight fists atop the table. If he agreed to make a vow to the gods, our discussion could move on to the newly christened transference ceremony. From there, we would outline how the other royals would be treated, how the currently deposed duchies would be divided, and so on.

There’s still much to be decided...

As I wondered what we would deliberate first, Ferdinand suddenly stood up. “Prince Sigiswald, as I am sure you now understand, the next Zent will need to endure a tremendous amount of pressure when they stand atop the altar and receive the Grutrissheit from the Divine Avatar of Mestionora. If you wish to take the throne, then I must ask that you give your name to Rozemyne. Doing so will nullify the impact of her divine mana on you.”

The first prince blinked. It certainly would be problematic if the new Zent collapsed midway through receiving his Grutrissheit, unable to bear my accidental Crushing.

That said... I really don’t like using name-swearing for this kind of thing. This is exactly what Grandfather warned me about.

“Me, give my name?” Sigiswald asked, grimacing in disbelief. “Do you genuinely expect the new Zent to accept subservience to someone soon to become the next Aub Ahrensbach? The very idea is unthinkable.”

The prince was speaking for his own sake, but he was completely right. Expecting the Zent to give his name to a mere aub was absurd. Still, Ferdinand declared that he could not trust the royal family unless they agreed.

I’m fine with them just signing a contract with the gods, but... whatever.

Trauerqual suddenly raised a hand, a bitter expression on his face.

“Yes, King Trauerqual?” I asked.

“Lady Rozemyne, my deepest apologies for the disturbance I am about to cause.” He rose from his seat, then bound the first prince with bands of light.

I saw bitter tears in the king’s eyes as he continued, “By all rights, Sigiswald, we should already have been executed. Yet we have been given the chance to live—and to receive the Grutrissheit from a divine avatar of the gods. Your refusal to grant her your name and commit to her demands makes you unqualified to succeed the throne, as does your displeasure about signing a contract with the gods. Open your eyes to what the rest of us saw long ago. I understand that your upbringing in a royal family that needed to persist without the Grutrissheit has colored your view of the world, but your attempts to cling to the status we no longer have are unbearably foolish and painful to witness.”

Ralfrieda cast her eyes down and said nothing.

Ferdinand gazed down at the restrained Sigiswald and then at Trauerqual. “May I conclude that you have decided not to allow Prince Sigiswald to become the new Zent?”

“As he is now, I doubt he will meet the gods’ criteria,” the king replied, hanging his head. “He will only earn more of their ire.”

Nobody spoke in the first prince’s defense. He remained motionless as everyone silently agreed with his father.