Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.11 - Chapter 6

Adolphine’s Push

I was gleefully considering the name of my library city when Adolphine raised a hand. “Now that everyone’s rewards have been decided, I request permission to speak.”

“Granted, of course,” I said.

Adolphine looked at Trauerqual and Sigiswald. “This would ordinarily be kept within the royal family... but it must be said that I married Prince Sigiswald to connect Drewanchel to the next Zent. By losing his claim to the throne, he might have breached our contract.”

“He breached it...?” I asked.

“Indeed. If the prince becomes an aub, neither my duchy nor I will gain anything from our union, thereby violating the contract we made at the time of our engagement. He is not entirely to blame, but a breach is a breach. I wish to borrow Mestionora’s wisdom so that no one is punished by the Goddess of Light.”

I cocked my head at her, unsure what she hoped to gain from this. Ferdinand must have detected my confusion because he gave his temple a few taps and translated.

“So you want a guarantee that Drewanchel will receive the benefits of marrying a Zent even though Prince Sigiswald is becoming an aub.”

“Indeed,” she said with a smile. “Or I would ask Lady Rozemyne to recognize our divorce as the one who performed our Starbinding.” The look in her eyes reminded me of Gundolf when he was advancing his research.

“You may discuss the matter in our absence. Rozemyne is under no obligation to make promises about a contract between your husband and you.”

“I am aware,” Adolphine replied, still smiling. “But her involvement cannot be overlooked. Following the civil war, Klassenberg and Dunkelfelger were given land to reward their involvement. This was not an option for Drewanchel, so we were given a chance to increase our authority by sending archnobles to the Sovereignty.”

Klassenberg and Dunkelfelger had endured many hardships trying to manage territories outside their borders, while Drewanchel had struggled to fill the void made by sending so many archnobles to the Sovereignty.

Adolphine continued, “Redrawing the borders will allow Klassenberg and Dunkelfelger to properly absorb the territories they manage. In turn, the Sovereignty is going to shrink. What will happen to the nobles there when the Sovereign temple moves to the Royal Academy?” Klassenberg and Dunkelfelger were keeping their rewards from the civil war, and she wanted to make sure the same was true for Drewanchel.

Ferdinand drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “We plan to temporarily return all Sovereign nobles not in the royal family’s service to their duchies during the move to the Academy and the assignment of new aubs. Once everything is done, the duchies will send nobles as before, but Lady Eglantine and Prince Anastasius will decide which ones are accepted. From that point on, Sovereign nobles will stay in the dormitories of their respective duchies.”

Adolphine nodded, having anticipated that answer. “I thought the Sovereign nobles would be sent back, considering that the blue priests are due to be returned. I do not disagree with any of these changes—it makes sense for the new Zent to choose which nobles shall work for her, and moving them into their dormitories will reduce the burden on her in many regards—but I cannot ignore their impact on Drewanchel. We will lose not only the benefits promised to us by my contract but also our reward for participating in the civil war. I will need to discuss the matter with the aub.”

“I understand your position well,” I said, unable to hold my tongue. “Lady Eglantine, King Trauerqual, Prince Sigiswald—think carefully about how best to reward Drewanchel.”

“Rozemyne, this is not a matter for you to speak on,” Ferdinand interjected with a hard glare. Because of my goddess-dyed mana, anything I said would be interpreted as a divine order, but I didn’t regret my decision.

“I understand that, but I empathize with Lady Adolphine’s urgency and desperation. Please allow me to provide some insight. Imagine my adoption into the royal family went ahead, but Ehrenfest never received what they were promised in return.”

If the Zent had adopted me only to be demoted to the rank of an aub, and the rewards promised to Ehrenfest had never materialized, I, too, would have been ranting about a breach of contract. It was even worse for Adolphine; not only was her duchy being denied payment, but it would also need to bear a greater burden when assisting with the construction of the new duchies.

Of course, our situations aren’t exactly the same. Divorce has a tremendous impact on a woman’s reputation.

“Lady Adolphine,” I continued. “Your marriage was political, and your concerns are valid, but would rushing into a divorce be wise? Given the impact it might have on your duchy’s plans and your future, I would encourage you to give it more thought.” Drewanchel and the royal family must have both agreed that her engagement was best for the balance of power in Yurgenschmidt; they would need to be consulted before anyone took action.

“Naturally. The final decision would not be made here and now but after a discussion between my parents in Drewanchel and the royal family during the upcoming Archduke Conference. I elected to mention it because my Starbinding was performed using ancient methods. I thought my divorce might need to be done the same way.”

Adolphine’s marriage had survived an entire year—long enough for her and Sigiswald to grow close, I thought—but it seemed she was already set on divorce.

Hmm... I guess this is just how things are in this world.

Did an arranged marriage need to end if the deal it was founded on fell through? The couple had wed over a year ago, so I thought it might be better for them to keep supporting each other. It wasn’t my marriage, though, nor was it my decision to make; Adolphine understood her situation more than I ever would.

“Just a moment,” I said. “I can check.”

I made my Book of Mestionora and searched for any information I could find about divorces. Sigiswald spoke with Adolphine in the background; based on his remarks, he didn’t want them to separate.

“Adolphine, have we not already spent an entire year together?” the first prince asked. “I did not think you were so obsessed with obtaining royal status...” He was trying to chastise her for being so heartless, but she merely blinked in confusion.

“Are you really so taken aback? Our union was political from the outset, arranged with the understanding that I would marry the country’s next Zent. Obtaining royal status was always my focus; we were never even a couple.”

“We gained the blessings of the supreme gods, did we not? And what will your future hold if you divorce me so soon after coming of age? You might not find anyone else and end up stuck in Drewanchel for the rest of your life.”

Adolphine looked sincerely troubled. She made to respond, then paused; though they weren’t on the same page, their marriage and its problems weren’t to be discussed in this public arena. She must have given up on trying to explain her perspective because she merely smiled and said, “Prince Sigiswald, anyone would grasp at Dregarnuhr’s threads if she dangled them so clearly. Not even Liebeskhilfe could resist their allure.” She wouldn’t let this opportunity to divorce him slip through her fingers.

I wonder how they ended up like this. Like, ouch... Adolphine said they weren’t even a couple.

As much as I wanted to find out, this was a matter between their houses. It seemed rude of me to pry. I gazed up from my Book of Mestionora to address them.

“Lady Adolphine—according to my research, the traditional means of divorce should still work for you. Please note, however, that you will find it harder to obtain the supreme gods’ blessings.” A normal prayer would earn them only half as many blessings as usual.

“I thank you ever so much for your time, Lady Rozemyne. Your insight is most useful.”

Adolphine knew the supreme gods would grant her less favor if she divorced the first prince, but that didn’t change the resolve in her amber eyes. She got Eglantine and Trauerqual to promise they would set up a meeting with Drewanchel to discuss the matter. It was admirable, really.

“A name stone should take no more than three days to complete,” Ferdinand said, returning our focus to Eglantine. “Thus, I would advise holding the transference ceremony and your debut as a Zent four days from now. Like other rituals, they can begin at third bell.”

“Four days from now?!” Eglantine cried. Her shock was a little unwarranted, if you asked me; four days was plenty of time. In fact, coming from Ferdinand, it could even be considered generous.

“Name stones are trivial to make,” I said, “and procuring the ingredients should not be a problem for a royal. The prayer and method to regenerate gathering spots were taught during the last Archduke Conference, so you need not even worry about scarcity. Two days would be more than enough time.”

Ferdinand nodded in agreement. “Two days was my original plan, but you would not be ready for the ceremonies. Especially as you need to practice your whirling.”

“Aah, I get it now...” I muttered. “Three or four days of practice wouldn’t have been enough when people are comparing me to Lady Eglantine. But even then...”

Though I was finally able to whirl without falling over, I still occasionally wavered. Having to keep up with Eglantine, of all people, was going to be tough. I tried asking for more time to practice, but Ferdinand refused.

“You will need to make do,” he said. “If we are not careful, we will not make it back to Ahrensbach in time for Spring Prayer. This year’s harvest will catastrophically fail.”

“Oh, right... But what about our clothes?”

Ferdinand cocked an eyebrow at me like I’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Lady Eglantine has her clothes from her coming-of-age and Starbinding. And as your role is to present her with the Grutrissheit, you can wear your ceremonial High Bishop robes.”

I was okay with that; I was used to wearing them, and we wouldn’t need to worry about them being ready in time. Lieseleta and the others could fetch them from Ahrensbach for me.

“Lady Eglantine,” Ferdinand said, “please wear feystone shoes for your whirling. The pillar of light will not form without mana.”

“Should I wear some too?” I asked.

“There is enough divine mana spilling out of you that the material of your shoes will not matter. Do as you please.”

Huh? Am I leaking that much mana?

It hadn’t even occurred to me, but there must have been a lot. My current state was so abnormal that even pillars of light would form on their own.

“To provide extra support, Hartmut shall participate as the High Priest,” Ferdinand continued. “Shall we let the royal family borrow him from tomorrow until the day of the ceremonies so he can educate Prince Anastasius?”

“Hold on!” Sylvester yelped. “You plan to have Hartmut educate Prince Anastasius?!” That meant putting an Ehrenfest archnoble above a member of royalty.

Ferdinand glanced at his brother, then at Anastasius. “Hartmut knows more about religious ceremonies than anyone else we can spare.”

“Is your knowledge not superior?” Anastasius asked. He probably thought it would be easier to learn from an archduke candidate than an archnoble from another duchy, but Ferdinand shot down the idea at once.

“It is, but I do not have time to teach you; I must instruct the nobles of Ahrensbach in Rozemyne’s stead. If you are displeased with needing Hartmut’s assistance or think you can prepare the transference ceremony at such short notice without him, I will not object. You can make do with those of the Sovereign temple.”

According to Ferdinand, the Sovereign High Bishop was basically on the verge of death. His blue priests wouldn’t be of much use to the second prince when the temple was in such a sorry state, making Hartmut’s assistance crucial.

Ferdinand put the royals in his debt while simultaneously blocking their escape route. How evil...

Still, I couldn’t just sit here in silence; he was lending the royals one of my retainers.

“Prince Anastasius—if you want Hartmut for the next four days, I will need to charge the royal family for his services.”

Sylvester and the others were stunned, but I refused to budge. Not even the Lord of Evil could suppress my merchant spirit.

“On another note,” I said, “I promised Lady Hannelore that I would invite her to watch me hand over the Grutrissheit. Aub Dunkelfelger, be sure to bring her with you to the ceremonies.”

“As you wish,” the aub replied.

I was prepared to move on, but Trauerqual raised a hand in search of permission to speak. “Lady Rozemyne. I have a suggestion.”

“Yes?”

“Could we invite all the archduke candidates currently enrolled at the Academy? This seems like a perfect opportunity for those closest to becoming the next generation’s Zent to learn the importance of religious ceremonies and the Grutrissheit’s divinity.”

Going forward, students would need to pray to the gods and work to acquire as many elements as they could. Trauerqual thought that a demonstration of the path to the throne would play a crucial role in reforming the country’s temples.

Sylvester contemplated the idea, then nodded. “I agree with King Trauerqual. However, I propose that we invite all baptized archduke candidates, even those who are still too young to attend the Academy. I imagine Melchior, the current High Bishop in Ehrenfest, would also appreciate the chance to see Rozemyne’s ceremonies.”

A gentle smile spread across my face. I would need to put my all into serving as a good example for Melchior.

“Given that brooches and such will need to be prepared for those who have yet to enroll, we can let the aubs of each duchy decide whether they wish to bring their seven-, eight-, and nine-year-olds,” I said. “I should note, however, that I think children have much to gain from experiencing religious ceremonies at a young age.”

“And what will you do if problems arise because of children that young participating?” Ferdinand asked me with his usual glare.

I shrugged. “Back in Ehrenfest, recently baptized apprentice blues watched our ceremonies without issue. I see no reason to worry about well-bred archduke candidates. Even if something does happen, the blame will rest with the parents. The aubs get to decide who participates, after all.”

A misbehaving child spoke to a poor education, so the aubs would only bring those they could trust not to shame them. In short, there was basically zero risk of us encountering any issues.

“As far as rituals go,” I said, “the transference ceremony is irregular—not like the yearly Starbinding and such. It will serve no purpose for future generations who obtain their own Books of Mestionora. Because it should never need to be repeated, I see nothing wrong with letting the younger children participate just this once.”

Ferdinand rapped a finger on his temple. “I wonder... Did you only make this grand, admirable gesture because you want to impress your younger siblings?”

Well spotted, Ferdinand. Guess I can’t pull the wool over your eyes.

Once we’d agreed to let all the baptized archduke candidates participate, we went over the details of the ceremonies before bringing our meeting to a close.