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

Epilogue

An ordonnanz arrived and announced that Lord Ferdinand and the aub would take their meals in the latter’s office in the castle. Gretia, Lieseleta, and Justus all moved to the neighboring retainers’ room.

Gretia waited patiently as the dumbwaiter churned, then opened its door and wheeled out a small trolley from within.

“As always, test for poison,” Justus instructed, eyes narrowed in a sharp stare.

Together with Lieseleta, Gretia started testing their lady’s food. They wiped the plates and cutlery with cloths soaked in a potion that would react to poison, then used the same potion on a small sample of each dish. Such procedures were taught as part of the Royal Academy’s attendant course and could thus be carried out by any decent retainer, but those in Rozemyne’s retinue had also been taught nonstandard, more thorough methods—courtesy of Justus, of course.

“Soup with arspium requires special care,” he said. “Though harmless in isolation, it becomes poisonous when mixed with dolch. Extract a spoonful of soup from the bowl, pour it onto a potion-doused cloth, and then test the rim of the bowl for good measure.”

Justus’s lessons focused on various poisons not covered at the Royal Academy. His knowledge of plants native to Ahrensbach and tools used only in Lanzenave were essential to Gretia and Lieseleta, attendants of a future aub.

I appreciate his assistance, but he knows far too much about poison... As do the others serving Lord Ferdinand, for that matter.

Lasfam, in particular, came to mind. He had a peaceful demeanor, always wore a calm smile, and had even welcomed commoners into the library he attended. Gretia knew him as a very trusting man, but that side of him vanished when he had to prepare meals for his lord. He refused to put his faith in anyone, even Rozemyne’s personal chefs.

During the evacuation, Lasfam had tested every dish made by the commoner women who had volunteered to cook, then scoured the kitchen from top to bottom for anything that could pose a threat when they were done. He had used the opportunity to show Lieseleta and Gretia what to look out for when preparing Ehrenfest food and warned them to be even more cautious going forward. The court chefs prepared the same dishes for everyone in the dining hall, but that didn’t mean Gretia could slack on testing them for poison. She would also need to learn the risks associated with foods from other regions.

Back then, I thought he was being overly cautious because of our plans to move to the Sovereignty. But now...

Lasfam’s warning cut deep. They had moved not to the Sovereignty but to Ahrensbach, a duchy rife with Detlinde sympathizers and those who took issue with an Ehrenfest noble having stolen their foundation. Even those in Letizia’s faction were scheming—against her wishes, of course. Though their goals were all over the place, they had found common ground in their desire to assassinate Rozemyne before the next Archduke Conference, when she would officially be recognized as the next aub, and install Letizia in her place.

We would never have noticed on our own.

Most of Gretia’s and the others’ intelligence had come from Ferdinand and his retainers, who had moved to Ahrensbach one and a half years earlier and investigated the region’s unique plants and poisons. Gretia was more grateful to them than she could put into words; they were an invaluable source of wisdom for Rozemyne’s retainers, especially when their lady would soon be looked down upon as an underage, female aub.

“Put some of this in your mouth, then spit it into the cloth,” Justus explained. “Asiresse juice reacts with saliva and turns poisonous once ingested.”

Only once the dishes had been thoroughly tested for poison were they allowed to be served. Rozemyne would normally try to eat dinner in the dining hall with Letizia, but on this particular occasion, she would take her meal in the aub’s room with Ferdinand. They had sent away their knights while getting ready to perform a large-scale magic spell, and only those who could enter the archduke’s living area could reach them. As it stood, that permission extended solely to Ehrenfest nobles. No one from Ahrensbach, not even those serving Ferdinand, could reach the pair in their current location.

Some nobles were against Ferdinand using the archduke’s living area when he was not even properly engaged, but their protests fell on deaf ears. It was still unclear which Ahrensbach nobles could be trusted, and Ferdinand was absolutely necessary to perform the spell.

“Those who are not name-sworn, leave,” Ferdinand ordered after dinner.

Lieseleta pushed a trolley loaded with plates out of the room, while Leonore and Angelica moved to guard the outside of the door.

“Gretia, send an ordonnanz when Lady Rozemyne returns from the foundation,” Leonore said.

Under normal circumstances, when the aub was visiting the foundation’s hall, only archnobles belonging to a branch of the duchy’s archducal family were allowed inside their room. Gretia was but a mednoble. She was allowed to stay only because the other name-sworn had gone elsewhere to help prepare for the spell.

“Ferdinand, is it really okay for you to enter the foundation’s hall...?” Rozemyne asked, a look of concern on her face as she watched the retainers leave. The aub normally entered alone while their retinue isolated themselves in the retainers’ room or waited patiently behind a screen. So many exceptions were being made.

“It matters not,” he replied. “We are about to recreate the entire duchy as Alexandria, and anyone who might spread the word of my trespass can easily be silenced. Be aware, however, that this will never happen again. Once the castle has been rebuilt, neither I nor any of our name-sworn may be permitted these exceptions.”

Coming from Ferdinand, it was a shocking declaration. He was known for violating customs without a second thought when he considered it necessary.

Ferdinand took a name stone in hand. “Justus, I forbid you from spreading any information about Ahrensbach’s foundation. Rozemyne, give Gretia and me the same order.”

Rozemyne grimaced, reached down to the cage hanging at her waist, and touched two of the stones inside. She had received the names of many of her retainers but generally loathed using their stones to give orders. Ferdinand, in contrast, seemed to use his quite regularly.

“Ferdinand, Gretia,” she said, “I forbid you both from spreading any information about Ahrensbach’s foundation.”

“Understood.”

Ferdinand slotted a key into the door leading to the foundation’s hall. He was holding several feystones containing Rozemyne’s mana in his other hand, as he always did when acting as the archduke. His reasoning was apparently the same as why the Royal Academy’s professors kept feystones packed with royal mana, but neither Gretia nor her fellow retainers could confirm it; they had not taken the archduke candidate course.

“Your hand, Rozemyne,” Ferdinand instructed, reaching out to her.

She accepted it, then took a shaky step forward.

“Fare thee well, Lady Rozemyne,” Gretia said. “I shall make the preparations necessary for you to rest upon your return.”

Rozemyne looked back and gave a weak smile of acknowledgment. Her exhaustion was clear on her face, to no one’s surprise; she had spent the past three days enduring outright torture as her divine power ran rampant. Gretia had served her more closely than anyone else during that time, and she, too, had considered it a torturous experience.

Oh, why must my lady endure such agony?!

Gretia was furious at the gods for being so unreasonable. Still, she hid those emotions and simply smiled at Rozemyne in response, as she always would.

Rozemyne and Ferdinand entered the foundation’s hall and closed the door behind them. Gretia’s vision blurred the moment her lady was out of sight. She wiped the tears from her bluish-green eyes and took deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure.

“Lord Justus,” she said, “did my smile look normal?”

“Yes, I would say so.”

Gretia had already been told about her lady’s plan. Rozemyne would use the large-scale spell to exhaust her mana and divine power, then return her mana to its previous state. She had no other options; only by reaching the very brink of death could she escape the cause of her torment. The gods’ power swelled and clashed within her, causing more pain than a human could normally survive.

What a mess the gods have made!

Gretia was outraged that her lady needed to go to such extreme lengths just to stay alive, but she took some comfort in knowing that Ferdinand was by her side. He had searched desperately for a means to save Rozemyne and was doing everything in his power to help her.

“Lord Ferdinand said they would use liquid mana made from gold dust and feystones dyed completely with her mana,” Gretia said. “I must admit, I am shocked that such a thing is even possible.”

To make liquid mana, one had to remove the varied mana from water and replace it with one’s own. Anyone who performed the process would invariably channel their own mana into the mix, so Gretia had considered it impossible to make liquid mana in someone else’s stead.

And yet, Ferdinand claimed to have made some using Rozemyne’s mana.

“Is that something all archnobles can do?” Gretia asked.

“It is beyond me,” Justus replied. “There are many things that only Lord Ferdinand can accomplish.”

Many scholars found it suspicious, but the liquid mana had indeed matched the mana inside Rozemyne’s feystones. There were faint variations, of course, but that was to be expected; mana always changed to some degree when it was being manipulated. Hartmut and Justus had concluded that said variations would not impede attempts to redye Rozemyne’s mana.

“It frustrates me how little I can do for Lady Rozemyne...” Gretia muttered.

“Hah. If you mean in comparison to Lord Ferdinand, then of course. Hartmut and Lieseleta have learned enough between themselves to serve as Lady Rozemyne’s doctor, but they bemoan not being able to do any more than Lord Ferdinand has taught them.”

Gretia understood the feeling all too well. She was not the only retainer frustrated with her failure to adapt to Rozemyne’s new circumstances. Ferdinand, on the other hand, appeared to have taken it all in his stride.

“Yes, there is a reason my lady trusts him more than anyone else...” Gretia said. “Even in light of his absence.”

Perhaps because he had already moved to Ahrensbach when she became Rozemyne’s retainer, Gretia found it strange that Ferdinand was by her lady’s side at all times. She also found it hard to believe that not even Hartmut had managed to replace him, considering the former’s attentiveness and everything he had done for her behind the scenes.

Justus chuckled. “It was only a year and a half—not even as long as Lady Rozemyne spent in her jureve. Lord Ferdinand has protected her health and status since she was a frail girl in the temple and educated her so that she could survive as the archduke’s adopted daughter. Finding someone to replace him was always a tremendous task. A husband might have been able to surpass him, but nobody will ever take his place now that they are engaged.”

Gretia understood, but that did not make it any more appealing. Her dissatisfaction must have shown on her face because Justus raised an eyebrow.

“You seem displeased. Do you dislike Lord Ferdinand?”

“Far from it,” Gretia replied at once. Even if she had taken issue with him, she was not so stupid as to complain about him to his name-sworn retainer. Her lady ended up in the most bizarre situations, and Gretia truly believed that Ferdinand was best suited to keep her safe.

“I gave my name to Lady Rozemyne because she saved me,” she continued, casting her eyes down. “My displeasure stems from not being able to repay my debt to her.” There was nothing she could do to rescue her lady from the gods now toying with her life.

“You are your own savior,” Justus replied. “Having the resolve to escape your past treatment—and succeeding in doing so—commands a lot of respect. Take pride in your decision and the fact that you saw it through.”

Gretia could not suppress a gasp. “You... know about me, Lord Justus? How?” There was much she had deliberately kept back from her fellow retainers. How much did the man standing before her know?

Justus shrugged. “Did you expect Lord Ferdinand not to investigate you simply because you are from the same duchy? The playroom, in particular, escapes the attention of many an adult. He looked into the history of every child who would attend with Lady Rozemyne and paid especially close attention to those he thought were likely to give their names. We know everything about you—your first employer, when you developed mana-sensing...”

The daughter of a blue priest and blue shrine maiden of mednoble origin, Gretia had grown up in a side building on her mother’s family estate. Even as a child, she had worried about what her future might hold; her mother had been treated no better than a gray flower bearer ever since being brought back from the temple, and Gretia, a fellow child of the temple, feared she would share the same fate.

Instead, Gretia ended up being taken from the side building and baptized as the daughter of her maternal uncle and his first wife. The decision had come about for several reasons: the scarcity of nobles since the purge, the fact that she had more mana than any of the other children due to become servants, and the house’s desire for a daughter to use in a political marriage.

Becoming a noble did painfully little to improve Gretia’s life—she had gone from being largely ignored in the side building to being the subject of constant scrutiny in its main counterpart. She was mocked by her brothers for her background, criticized whenever she made the slightest error, and teased relentlessly when she hit puberty and grew more than the others her age. Each day had felt like perpetual torment.

Raised as a pawn to be used in a political marriage, Gretia had prayed that she would one day escape her home. Only then would she be treated as a regular noble. She had resolved to go to any length to escape, even if she had to marry someone older than her father.

But her wish never came true. As soon as she developed mana-sensing, Gretia was presented not to prospective grooms but to men who wanted a concubine—a mistress who would also attend to their wives or daughters. Her father described it as the perfect job for a child of the temple and sold Gretia to the highest bidder: Giebe Wiltord.

Both the giebe and his eldest son were later executed during the purge, but Gretia did not rejoice. She had been violated by them both, and returning home would only doom her to a life of never-ending misery. That was why she had sought protection among Rozemyne’s name-sworn.

“Now that Giebe Wiltord and his family have been executed, only Lord Ferdinand, his three name-sworn, and your house know about your past,” Justus said. It was a much smaller number than Gretia had expected. “Hartmut and Cornelius also ran checks on Lady Rozemyne’s name-sworn, but faction walls limited their reach; I suspect they learned only as much as the public already knew. Were they to try again now, they would probably dig deeper.”

Hartmut’s research had corroborated Gretia’s account of her past, so he had elected not to pry any further—much to her relief.

“Though I now serve Lady Rozemyne, I feel entirely useless,” Gretia said. “As long as my lady has Lord Ferdinand, I cannot see why she would need anyone else. It leaves me frustrated with my own inadequacies and envious of your lord, on whom she depends for everything. I wish there were just one area in which I was superior.” She took issue with her situation, not with Ferdinand.

Justus nodded and said, “I know how you feel.”

Stunned, Gretia could only stare in shock. She had never expected Justus, an expert scholar and attendant and a very capable knight, to agree with her.

“I gave my name to Lord Ferdinand as a show of devotion yet constantly lose to Lady Rozemyne when it comes to rescuing him. I am glad to see him healthy and at peace, but it also frustrates me.”

Justus spoke in a light, somewhat teasing voice, and Gretia could not help but laugh a little. It was comforting to know that even someone so competent was dealing with the same problem.

“Aah. It’s begun,” Justus said, staring outside.

Gretia looked as well and saw a green light dart through the sky above, so bright that she almost forgot it was nighttime. Excited cries bled through the window, but their source was out of sight. Gretia started to ponder what might be happening when an ordonnanz shot into the room and perched on her arm.

“This is Hartmut. A ray of green light just shot out of the castle and is ascending high, high into the sky. It is the perfect opportunity to teach Ahrensbach’s nobles about Lady Rozemyne’s splendor, but what is there to say that this divine sight does not already encapsulate? In any case, as you and Lord Justus must not be able to see the full extent of the miracle, I shall appreciate it enough for you both. Aah, the light has started toward the country gate! Praise be to Lady Rozemyne!”

The cheers and shouts of those outside mixed with Hartmut’s enthusiastic rant. So lively was the clamor that one would think a festival was being held.

“There is a circle forming in the sky right now. How annoying that he gets to see it all...” Justus griped. He was pressing his face against the window in a desperate but ultimately futile attempt to see as much of the spectacle as he could. It was unsightly behavior for someone who had acted so properly mere moments ago and made Gretia wonder whether she should even continue their conversation.

“Um... Hartmut and Clarissa are bound to be recording the event with a magic tool,” she finally said.

“This is no ordinary spell; it heralds a revival of the age of myth! Nobody would settle for a mere recording!”

Gretia could not relate; she was more concerned about her lady in the foundation’s hall. She would certainly have watched the light if they had had a better view, but she was not excited enough to cast aside her decency.

Another ordonnanz soon arrived. It was up to Gretia to receive any correspondence meant for the aub; although Justus was stationed in the room with her, his duty was instead to rush out and provide assistance at the first sign of trouble.

“This is Strahl,” the little bird said. “We just saw the light at our border gate, and an enormous magic circle began stretching across the sky. The light has since departed—to Dunkelfelger’s gate, it would seem.”

It was a brief report, Gretia thought, but the knight’s wonder came through in every word. He had voiced some doubts when he was handed a rainbow feystone with a white branch sprouting from the top and told to take it to the border gate, so he must have been more taken aback than most. Gretia had a sudden urge to peer outside, though it faded when she saw Justus with his cheek still pressed against the glass.

“Oh, another ordonnanz,” she said. Not long had passed since the previous one.

“This is Eckhart. The green light just arrived at our gate, and a magic circle is steadily forming in the sky. We have a problem, though. Dunkelfelger’s knights are... Hey! I told you to stay back! Keep your distance!”

Eckhart spoke in a raised voice, battling to be heard over the bustle of Dunkelfelger’s border gate. Gretia could practically see him kicking aside the overeager knights, and only then did she understand why he, of all the retainers, had needed to be stationed there.

Just as Lord Ferdinand said, the post would have been too much for Matthias or Cornelius...

“Oooh!” Justus cried, causing Gretia to jump. “The circle is coming into view, Gretia! It’s going from the north to the east! Want a look?”

Gretia shook her head, then took a step back for good measure. A small section of the window had turned opaque, courtesy of some heavy breathing from Justus. His intensity was actually rather terrifying.

“I shall wait here for when the next ordonnanz arrives,” she said. And soon enough...

“This is Laurenz. The light reached this branch and continued to spread out. I guess Ehrenfest’s border gate is next. It’s an impressive sight. Some people are saying they feel bad that Old Werkestock won’t be included in the spell.”

Gretia scrunched up her face. She understood the Ahrensbach nobles’ compassion for Old Werkestock, but had they forgotten about its involvement in the recent invasion? As far as she was concerned, Rozemyne was under no obligation to help such people.

And even if she did, they would probably find a way to resent her for it.

Gretia recalled the information she and the other retainers had exchanged prior to their meeting with the royal family. Ferdinand had asked them for their thoughts on absorbing Ahrensbach’s portion of Old Werkestock into Alexandria. His retainers from Ahrensbach had supported the idea, arguing that they had more family in Old Werkestock than a decade ago and that it was best to expand one’s territory when the opportunity arose, but everyone from Ehrenfest had opposed it.

There is absolutely no need for Lady Rozemyne to risk her life restoring the land of her enemies.

A frown creased Gretia’s brow as she watched the magic circle, which could now be seen without needing to press one’s face against the window. She saw the beauty in a spell that would restore the entire duchy at once, but the circle’s enormity made her breath catch. It was hard to believe Rozemyne was creating it all on her own, and the thought that it was shaving down her life was terrifying. Gretia turned nervously to the door leading to the foundation’s hall.

Another ordonnanz perched on her arm.

“This is Matthias. The light arrived without issue. It really is awe-inspiring. I almost want to throw my arms up like Hartmut and pray to Lady Rozemyne.”

Then why hold back?

Rozemyne’s divine mana had inspired a change in her retainers. They were even more loyal to her than before and often struck with the compulsion to kneel before their lady. Cornelius had said it was like her name-sworn had all turned into Hartmut, and indeed, the same phenomenon was occurring within Gretia. She was proud to have given her all in service of someone so grand and understood that she was developing a blind obsession of sorts.

Perhaps that is why I do not fear dying with her if the worst comes to pass.

Gretia was still pondering the matter when yet another ordonnanz arrived. “This is Cornelius. The light has reached Ehrenfest.” It was a short, simple message, but his voice wavered, and a booming “UWOHHH! ROZEMYNE!” risked drowning him out.

I wonder if my lady remembers Lord Bonifatius...

Gretia knew about Rozemyne’s missing memories. It was the cost of a goddess having descended into her, and one could guess from Ferdinand’s treatment of the matter that retrieving them would not be easy.

Still, Lady Rozemyne is dead set on it.

It was an unfortunate situation, but Rozemyne’s lost memories did not seem to be causing her any issues. Gretia saw no reason for her lady to attempt anything dangerous to regain them—not when she could simply rebuild whatever she was missing. No matter what Rozemyne remembered, Gretia would continue to serve her.

“Aah, I can’t see it!” Justus exclaimed. “I can’t see any more changes! That was an ordonnanz from Ehrenfest’s border gate, right? That must mean it’s about to be finished. I want to see the completed magic circle with my own eyes. How must it look from the skies above?”

Snapping back to her senses, Gretia peered out the window at the magic circle now covering the sky. It had stopped changing, but the spell seemed incomplete. She awaited Clarissa’s ordonnanz in a state of near panic.

Gretia’s eyes were drawn more to the foundation’s hall than to the window. She was terribly worried about Rozemyne’s health. Unpleasant thoughts overran her mind—her lady collapsing midway through the spell or failing to completely drain her mana—and an important warning resurfaced.

“This spell will drain Rozemyne’s mana almost entirely. There is a chance she will die, and if she does, her name-sworn will ascend to the towering heights with her. Be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”

Such words of caution had come from Ferdinand and were given only to the name-sworn who would pass away with their lady. Leonore and Cornelius most likely had a vague understanding of the risk, but they had not been told directly.

“If she meets her demise, so, too, will the world. You, me, the new Zent—we will all die, and Yurgenschmidt will soon follow.”

Part of Gretia opposed the risk that Ferdinand was taking—the fate of the entire country depended on Rozemyne—but she also agreed with his insanity.

If the gods truly wish for Yurgenschmidt’s survival, then they need only keep my lady alive.

They were especially taken with Rozemyne, who had prayed and given more mana than anyone else, but had gotten much too involved in the world of men. It was not right to force a child to grow into an adult or to force divine mana into her, considering the limits of the human body.

The gods can reflect on their foolish deeds, which put the entire country in danger, and then dedicate themselves to keeping Lady Rozemyne alive.

If made to choose between her lady’s life and Yurgenschmidt’s continued existence, Gretia would choose the former every time. The gods had not saved her—Rozemyne had.

And a life outside her service would not be worth living.

Gretia was still underage. In the event that she somehow survived Rozemyne’s death, she would be sent back to her family home. She would much rather die alongside her lady than let that happen, she thought—and that was when the ordonnanz she had desperately been waiting for arrived.

“This is Clarissa. It’s done, Gretia! It was a huge success! The sky above the duchy is completely covered, and green light is raining down on us. It’s divine! More splendid than I can put into words! I expected no less from our own divine avatar!”

In the background of the message, Gretia heard applause and cheers of elation. “It would appear the spell was a success,” she said.

“Right,” Justus replied. “I want to see what things are like outside. I’ll come right back after I...” He paused and glanced at the door to the foundation, regret seeping through his expression. “No... The spell was a success, so they should come out soon. We cannot move from here.”

Gretia, too, awaited their return.

Time passed, but the door showed no sign of opening. Any excitement Gretia had felt about the success of the spell was quickly replaced with anxiety.

“Is my lady well...?” she asked.

“She must be. My lord is with her,” Justus replied. His earlier enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen—a worrying sign, Gretia thought.

There must be something—anything—I can do...

Unable to bear just staring at the door, Gretia scanned the room. If she could do something useful, maybe it would ease her anxiety. But no matter how hard she searched, there was nothing more to be done; they had already finished preparing to welcome Rozemyne back. There were rejuvenation potions of all sorts on the table and a made bed ready to be used.

“Gretia, I’ll watch the door. Could you brew some tea?”

“Yes, at once.”

Gretia practically flew into the retainers’ room. Justus had given her an adequate distraction. She warmed the teapot and cups, took out some tea leaves, and poured hot water into the teapot. She knew this process all too well, but her hands were trembling so much that she had to work slowly. Another ordonnanz arrived as she was picking up one of the cups.

“This is Lieseleta. The spell was a success, was it not? Has our lady still not returned from the foundation?”

Gretia twitched. Lieseleta was waiting in another room, while Leonore and the others were guarding the door. They must have been just as worried that they had not received an update on Rozemyne. Gretia was unsure how to respond, torn between wanting to vent her anxiety and assure her fellow retainers that they had nothing to worry about.

Hurry back, Lady Rozemyne. Everyone is waiting.

But as that thought passed through her mind, Gretia remembered something important—a piece of advice from her lady.

“Pray not for yourself but for others. That is the most fundamental rule of prayer.”

In the past, Gretia had prayed incessantly for the gods to save her. They never had. Was it because she was praying for herself...? The gods were troublesome beings who did not understand the limits of mere mortals, but Rozemyne’s encounters had at least proven they were real.

If I pray for someone else—for Lady Rozemyne—then perhaps my words will reach them.

Still clutching one of the teacups, Gretia petitioned the gods. Rather than praying to pass her classes, to obtain divine protections, or at someone else’s command, she made a heartfelt request for the sake of someone dear to her. It was the first time she had ever prayed in the true sense.

“Please let Lady Rozemyne come back safe.”