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

The Transference Ceremony

Coronations and the inductions of new aubs were normally held during the Archduke Conference, meaning minors could not attend, but today’s ceremony was entirely unprecedented. A divine avatar was going to transfer the Grutrissheit to a new Zent. The importance of religious ceremonies was also being revisited, and every baptized child was allowed to participate as part of a wider plan to dismantle noble society’s aversion to the temple.

“There are fewer children who have yet to enroll at the Royal Academy here than I expected...” I mused aloud, inspecting as much of the auditorium as I could from the seats for Dunkelfelger’s archducal family. My timing with these matters was always so poor that I had given up on being able to attend, but Lady Rozemyne, the Divine Avatar of Mestionora, had gone out of her way to invite me during a meeting with royalty.

My timing must not be quite so poor anymore.

I gripped the charm that my attendant Cordula had made for me and prayed to Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time. It was surely by her guidance that I had come into such good fortune.

My brother, Lestilaut, sneered. “That should go without saying. Few aubs would want a newly baptized child to attend an event with the royal family.” He looked down at the daughter of our duchy’s second wife. “Even we had to hold a lengthy debate about who was safe to bring.”

Father’s second wife had two baptized children. We had brought Lungtase but ultimately decided to leave her elder brother, Raufereg, at home. The last thing we wanted to do was cause any disrespect.

Lestilaut had obstinately declared that, as our next aub, it was his duty to attend the ceremony and strengthen his connections with both the new Zent and the divine avatar, ultimately forcing both Uncle and Grandfather to stay behind. Of course, he had only taken that stance upon hearing from our parents that Lady Eglantine and Lady Rozemyne would perform a dedication whirl, so his true intentions were clear to us all. Mother had made him promise not to bring any art utensils to the ceremony and even went as far as to check his belongings several times over this morning.

Even the adult heirs apparent are in a state. Few aubs would choose to bring their children.

“Still,” Lestilaut continued, “Ehrenfest brought one. I guess it was their idea to begin with. Look at him wearing his High Bishop robes. He sticks out like a sore thumb.” He was referring to Lord Melchior, a young archduke candidate.

“Lord Melchior was assigned to take Lady Rozemyne’s place as the High Bishop,” I said. We had met once before during the victory feast in Ehrenfest, and the proud smile he had worn while expressing his desire to follow in his sister’s footsteps reinforced the notion that Lady Rozemyne had not been sent to the temple as an act of abuse by her adoptive father, Aub Ehrenfest; it really was normal in Ehrenfest for archduke candidates to serve in the temple.

“Hmph. So they brought their High Bishop along as part of their plan to reinforce the importance of the temple and religious ceremonies, did they?” Lestilaut said venomously. “He must be destined to become the next Aub Ehrenfest. I do not see why Wilfried is grinning without a care in the world when both his future and fiancée have been stolen from him.”

“You say that his fiancée was stolen, but Ehrenfest internally canceled their engagement long ago so that Lady Rozemyne could be adopted by the king and marry the next Zent.” We had learned during our victory feast that the cancellation had resulted from an agreement between Aub Ehrenfest and the Zent, meaning there was nothing Lord Wilfried could have done to prevent it.

“Furthermore,” I said, “High Bishops in Ehrenfest do not necessarily become aubs. As we have seen, Lady Rozemyne held the role before, but Lord Wilfried was positioned to be the next archduke.”

Back when my brother had demanded a game of bride-stealing ditter, Lord Wilfried had declared that he would participate as Ehrenfest’s next aub. He had won and protected Lady Rozemyne, so I doubted the cancellation of an engagement outside of his control would be grounds enough to disqualify him from the role.

“He is a good-for-nothing nonetheless,” Lestilaut spat. “He said all that about keeping Rozemyne safe, but the royal family still took her exactly as I warned during our match.”

That much was true. Despite her engagement, Lady Rozemyne had not been protected when it mattered most. It was hard to deny that the royal family had interfered in the ditter match specifically to obtain her for themselves.

“I do not disagree with you, Brother, but Lady Rozemyne was never a suitable candidate to become the first wife of Dunkelfelger. She is not one to take the reins; rather, she needs someone to keep her under control.”

Unfortunately for Lestilaut, I doubted he was the man for the job. My reasoning was hard to put into words, but Lady Rozemyne’s way of thinking was entirely unique. I recalled what she had so eagerly described while ordering my hairpin, then shook my head to dispel the thought. Only someone with a wealth of experience in a supportive role could take Lady Rozemyne’s hand. The position could never have gone to my brother, who had instead been raised to stand above others.

“And you think that ‘someone’ is Ferdinand?” Lestilaut asked.

“Indeed,” I said. “I could sense it while I was in Ehrenfest, so I am relieved to hear he is going to marry her.”

According to my parents—and much to my surprise—Lord Ferdinand would apparently have become Lady Rozemyne’s fiancé whether we had intervened or not. He had been ordered by King Trauerqual to wed the inexperienced next Aub Ahrensbach, to assist her with her administration, and, once they were married, to adopt Lady Letizia so he could raise her into the next aub. That was why he had moved to Ahrensbach and played such a crucial role in its maintenance despite not even being engaged.

As it turned out, Detlinde had not dyed her duchy’s foundation—a most unusual development, considering her obsession with being an aub. Instead, she had gotten her sister Alstede, an archnoble by marriage, to dye the foundation in her stead.

Alstede was a married woman. Her husband, Blasius, had been reduced to the rank of an archnoble as a result of the civil war, but as a former archduke candidate, he could oversee administrative work without issue. If only Alstede had been formally recognized as the next Aub Ahrensbach, the royal decree given to Lord Ferdinand would have been voided without issue.

However, Lady Rozemyne had stolen Ahrensbach’s foundation before Alstede could be recognized as the aub. She was an underage female aub with very little experience, so the royal decree had remained active. I felt a touch foolish for having devoted so much of my attention to getting her and Lord Ferdinand together.

“Lady Rozemyne’s old engagement has been out of the question for quite some time now,” I reiterated. “And as it had the king’s permission, it follows that the royal decree would take priority. I can see, now, why Lord Ferdinand has been treating her as his fiancée and why he led Ahrensbach’s troops in her name.”

“Still, for them both to follow the king’s decree to the letter, Rozemyne will need to take an adopted daughter as soon as she is wed, and that daughter will replace her as the next aub. Society will not permit them to pick and choose which parts of the command they obey.”

My brother then pointed at the violet capes marked with blue and yellow crosses. Lady Letizia was the only one sitting in the seats for Ahrensbach’s archducal family. She had not yet enrolled at the Academy, so her being here meant she was still considered an archducal family member.

“Do you believe Lord Ferdinand will respect Lady Letizia’s place in the royal decree?” I asked.

“Who can say? If he and Rozemyne stick to it, then their adopted daughter will sow discord in their new duchy. If they ignore it entirely, their engagement will cease to exist. For now, their safest course of action would be to at least act like they’re following orders.”

There were countless men who wished to be Lady Rozemyne’s husband, considering the influence she would soon have over the new Zent, and many Ahrensbach nobles surely feared that their duchy would turn into a vassal state of Ehrenfest with Lady Rozemyne and Lord Ferdinand in charge. Top-ranking duchies would also be compelled to interfere with the birth of a greater duchy subservient to Ehrenfest.

“These are troubling times, dear brother, but I suspect Lord Ferdinand thought this through at least as much as you did. He considers every outcome and devises schemes for each of them. I shuddered in awe when I saw it with my own eyes.”

I tried to relate the matter to our true ditter match with Ehrenfest, but Lestilaut raised a hand. “No more,” he said. “Enough people have told me already.”

“She is correct, Lestilaut,” Mother interjected, then lowered her voice enough that it would blend in with the buzz of the other nobles. “Though it was probably Lord Ferdinand who proposed the idea, Lady Eglantine agreed to give Lady Rozemyne her name to obtain the Grutrissheit. Obtaining royal decrees from her is going to be trivial, and at no point will Lady Rozemyne need to worry about royal interference.”

Lestilaut scrunched up his face. “Ferdinand used the Grutrissheit as a bargaining chip to force the new Zent to give her name? Once again, I am reminded why we started calling him the Lord of Evil. It is a miracle that his heart has not turned entirely to stone.”

I agree.

It was then that a bell chimed, indicating third bell and the start of the ceremony. The doors were opened wide, and the audience immediately fell silent.

Like during the graduation and coming-of-age ceremonies, the stage and altar were set up in the auditorium. First entered the musicians with their instruments, who would carry out the same role as the graduating students during the Academy’s graduation ceremonies and play songs for the gods. I narrowed my eyes and managed to spot Lady Rozemyne’s auburn-haired personal musician among them; she had played for us during tea parties.

The doors closed, and the next group to come in was the blue priests. They arrived through the same entrance the professors normally used. I recognized some of those taking the lead.

“That is Hartmut at the front,” I said.

“Aah, yes. Clarissa’s fiancé. How strange it feels to recognize Ehrenfest’s High Priest from ceremonies at the Royal Academy.”

We had seen Hartmut more during the Archduke Conference and the Royal Academy’s Dedication Ritual than we had seen those of the Sovereign temple. I could not imagine anyone else leading the Academy’s ceremonies.

Dressed in blue robes, Hartmut passed the stage for dedication whirling and stopped in front of the altar. He looked around, confirming that the blue priests were properly in place, then leisurely regarded the audience and produced a sound-amplifying magic tool.

“Now behold the Zent chosen by the Divine Avatar of Mestionora: Lady Eglantine.”

We turned to the door just in time to see it open, revealing the woman in question. She wore an elegant smile and entered with Prince Anastasius as her escort. The light of a blessing rained down on them out of seemingly nowhere.

“Oh my! A blessing!”

“The gods have blessed her like they did during her graduation!”

Lady Eglantine and Prince Anastasius were both wearing the same clothes they had worn for their graduation, which must have made the parallel even more obvious. The light shimmering around our ruler-to-be was like a window into the past. I recalled the Sovereign High Bishop at the time enthusiastically declaring that it was a blessing from the gods, and indeed, the spectacle convinced us all that they had chosen Lady Eglantine as their new Zent.

Her golden hair tied loosely behind her head, Lady Eglantine strode gracefully through the auditorium as the blessing continued to rain down upon her. Perhaps because she would henceforth serve as the country’s new Zent, her usual gentle demeanor had vanished, replaced with something much sharper. Prince Anastasius’s stern expression likewise conveyed the weight of the role now awaiting his beloved wife.

Lestilaut was impatiently drumming his fingers on the wooden barrier that separated us from the royals below. So majestic was the sight before us that he must have wanted to capture it in a picture.

Only once Lady Eglantine had reached the front of the stage and came to a stop did Hartmut make his next announcement: “Now behold Lady Rozemyne, Divine Avatar of Mestionora the Goddess of Wisdom.”

I returned my attention to the door and watched it closely. Mother and Father had described the impact of Lady Rozemyne’s divine power, but this was my chance to see it with my own eyes.

She radiates divinity and authority—that was how my parents described it. I cannot even begin to imagine how that must look. The divine power will apparently fade in time, so I am quite glad to have this chance to see it.

“Oho, so that is the divine avatar...”

“How beautiful!”

Lady Eglantine had wowed us all with the blessing she’d received, but Lady Rozemyne’s entrance was truly breathtaking. She stepped into the auditorium with Lord Ferdinand as her escort, radiating light and a gentle swell of divine power. I could feel it even from the audience seats and was struck with an instinctual impulse to simply stare at her in awe.

I am shocked that Lord Ferdinand can still escort her.

Even if Lady Rozemyne had looked exactly the same as before, standing that close to her would invariably have compelled me to kneel. The same was true of my parents. This was but another way in which Lord Ferdinand stood out as abnormal.

“This is not at all how I remember Lady Rozemyne...”

“I refuse to believe this was all the result of a growth spurt.”

I nodded along with the chattering of the crowd.

Yes, I was speechless the first time I saw her adult form. I thought I would never lose to her in height, but then she suddenly overtook me! My brother retorted that she was far from the first person to tower over me, but that completely missed the point. Someone, please understand my woe!

“Lady Rozemyne’s feystones are shining with her,” Mother observed.

I returned to my senses and enhanced my vision. Lady Rozemyne’s brilliance was due to more than just the divine power—the rainbow feystones attached to her ornaments were all positively radiant. They clinked melodically and twinkled like stars as she proceeded through the room. I could not even begin to guess how many ornaments she had concealed under her white robes, but multicolor light bled through her sleeves and made the shape of her arms faintly visible. Even just looking at their jewelry, it was clear that Lady Rozemyne, the Divine Avatar of Mestionora, ranked above Lady Eglantine.

Lady Rozemyne’s dark hair swayed with each step. Her tresses had the blessing of the God of Darkness, and her eyes contained the blessing of the Goddess of Light—the night sky and two golden moons, making her features exactly like how Mestionora’s were rumored to appear. Now that Lady Rozemyne had taken a form befitting her age, courtesy of Anwachs the God of Growth, there was no dissonance with calling her a true divine avatar.

And only ten days have passed since we parted ways after the fighting in Ehrenfest.

I was amazed that someone could change so dramatically in such a short time. We were both girls, and it was far from my first time seeing her grown-up form, but I was still very nearly enraptured with her. Those not used to her would completely lose themselves.

I glanced once again at my brother, who had not uttered a single word since Lady Rozemyne’s arrival. His eyes were wide open, and his mouth hung agape. I could tell that he was stunned because his fingers remained completely still, no longer tracing images on the barrier. He was staring at Lady Rozemyne in a desperate attempt to burn the sight of her into his memory.

“Just recently, the Goddess of Wisdom descended into Lady Rozemyne’s body. I assume each and every one of you can feel the lingering sway of her divine mana,” Lady Eglantine said to the nobles, her voice made louder by the tool she had taken from Hartmut. She conveyed a message from the gods, then touched briefly upon our war against the Lanzenavians. “The details shall be given during the Archduke Conference. Today, the Divine Avatar of Mestionora will return to us the Grutrissheit we so shamefully lost.”

On cue, Lord Ferdinand escorted Lady Rozemyne up the whirling stage. No sooner did she step foot atop it than a magic circle sprang to life—the same circle that had appeared only momentarily for Lady Detlinde.

“This long-forgotten circle, which dates back to ancient times, responds to those worthy of becoming Zent candidates,” Lord Ferdinand explained. “Anyone whose whirling does not open the path to the gods will not be considered. We hope to give the children gathered today a chance to receive Mestionora’s wisdom and to recognize the importance of religious ceremonies and praying to the gods.”

He then let go of Lady Rozemyne’s hand and descended to the front of the stage, where he joined the musicians and readied his harspiel.

“Oh my. Does Lord Ferdinand intend to play?”

“He is with the musicians. That must be the case.”

Lord Ferdinand strummed a few notes, ensuring his harspiel was in tune with the other instruments. They were ready to begin. Lady Rozemyne must have noticed as much because she knelt upon the cylindrical stage and prayed.

“I am one who offers prayer and gratitude to the gods who have created the world...”

The musicians played their instruments, and Lord Ferdinand started to sing. A sound-amplifying tool carried his voice throughout the auditorium.

Atop the stage, Lady Rozemyne slowly raised her head and stood as smoothly as if she were ethereal. She stretched her arms out to her sides and gazed up at the distant heavens. Tiny rainbow feystones on the backs of her hands drew elegant arcs in the air as she whirled.

“May the gods receive our prayers,” she intoned, and thus began the whirl of a goddess heretofore unseen. Not a single eye strayed from her performance.

A pillar of light...

The magic circle shone even brighter, and seven appropriately colored columns rose from the primary gods’ sigils. They ascended in time with Lady Rozemyne’s spinning and the billowing of her sleeves.

“The statues on the altar are moving...” Father muttered.

I turned to look and saw that he was right—the statues of the gods were moving on their own, forming a way to the top.

Is that the path to the gods?

It was now common knowledge that performing religious ceremonies at the Royal Academy caused pillars of light to appear. Seeing the statues on the altar move, however, was entirely new to me.

“This did not happen during the Academy’s other ceremonies,” I replied.

“According to Lady Rozemyne, it normally opens during the divine protections ritual. Perhaps a single Zent candidate must supply the circle.”

As I continued a hushed conversation with my father, the pillars stopped growing. The stage must have been filled with Lady Rozemyne’s divine power. They hung in the air for a moment before trickling down upon the room, creating bright waves that raced up the red cloth to the shrine. I was reminded of the Dedication Ritual, and the divine instruments lit up one by one.

Once the instruments all shone, Lady Rozemyne knelt and did not move. Her dance had enraptured me so completely that I could not even process it was over.

“Praise be to the gods.”

Her voice reverberated through the auditorium, and the divine instruments all flashed at once. In the blink of an eye, Lady Rozemyne was nowhere to be seen.

“She vanished!”

“What’s going on?!”

As the audience stirred, the statues of the gods moved again, returning to their original posts. The magic circle and radiant columns disappeared, and everything returned to normal. It was like nothing had even happened.

“This is just like what occurred during the battle for the auditorium...” Father murmured. He had mentioned during his report that the statues had shone and the three people atop the altar had vanished. I was surprised to have witnessed the same scene.

Oh...? But this time, Lord Ferdinand was not taken with her.

I peered down at the stage and saw him among the musicians. He had put down his harspiel and risen to his feet, his eyes locked on the shrine.

“Rozemyne was invited to the Garden of Beginnings,” Ferdinand announced. “Lady Eglantine, if you would. The gods are waiting.”

Our future Zent nodded and ascended the stage, the blood gone from her face. How cruel it was to make her whirl after Lady Rozemyne.

“Though it is her duty as a Zent candidate to perform, it cannot be easy being compared to Lady Rozemyne...” I said under my breath.

Lestilaut scoffed. “It won’t be long before you’re in the same predicament. Won’t you need to whirl alongside her for your graduation ceremony?”

“Oh...”

It would seem my timing hasn’t improved in the slightest.

The magic circle returned not immediately upon Lady Eglantine taking the stage but gradually as she put her hands against it and prayed. Sighs of awe and relief came from her spectators; they must have been glad to know that one did not need to radiate divine power to activate the Zent-selecting circle.

We were all too enchanted to breathe when Lady Rozemyne did it.

Again, the musicians started to play. I noticed the volume was lower than before and that someone else was singing this time. A quick glance revealed an empty seat with a harspiel resting beside it.

Lord Ferdinand must have left.

He had sung so beautifully during Lady Rozemyne’s performance, but now he was gone, neither among the musicians nor atop the stage. I thought to ask my brother about it, but he was too focused on Lady Eglantine’s dance.

My voice would only fall on deaf ears.

I tried to put Lord Ferdinand out of my mind and instead joined my brother in watching Lady Eglantine perform. Her dance lacked the ethereal divinity of the previous act but was wonderful nonetheless. Had we judged them on technique alone, she would certainly have come out on top.

The magic circle grew as Lady Eglantine whirled, as did the same bright columns. My stomach churned when the statues refused to budge, and while they did eventually move near the very end of her performance, the worst was yet to come—even after finishing her dance and praying to the gods, she remained atop the stage.

“She didn’t vanish... Does that mean she failed...?”

“No, the gods atop the shrine seem to be inviting her...”

Worried murmurs spread that Lady Eglantine had not been recognized as a true Zent candidate. In the midst of their dread, Hartmut stepped forward and pointed to the top of the shrine.

“The path to the gods has opened,” he announced. “Lady Eglantine—the gods await.”

She had not disappeared, but the path having opened meant she had received the gods’ approval. A wave of relief washed over the room.

Lady Eglantine raised her head, stood, and then turned toward the shrine. She seemed more charming than ever now that she had opened the path to the gods and proven her worth as a Zent candidate.

Prince Anastasius ascended the stage and took his wife’s hand. He tried to escort her all the way to the top of the shrine but only made it so far before he was stopped by a hidden barrier. Lady Eglantine had to proceed alone.

“I suppose only those who complete the ritual can ascend the shrine...” I whispered.

“Or only those deemed worthy of becoming the next Zent,” Father replied. There was an unmistakable weight to his observation, like he wanted me to read between the lines, but I was unsure what he was alluding to.

Lady Eglantine passed the statues of the supreme gods, which were now facing each other, and continued through the entrance atop the shrine. No sooner had she disappeared than the statues returned to their original positions.

“Ooh...”

Young and old, this transference ceremony was a new experience for us all. Awed murmurs once again spread through the room.

“That was truly a splendid dedication whirl,” one said. “I would never have guessed that a dance performed during one’s graduation served such a remarkable purpose. I wondered what the Academy was thinking when it held those Dedication Rituals, but I see now that the gods must have desired them.”

“So this is how power was transferred in ancient times...” mused another. “I feel blessed to have seen an avatar of Mestionora with my own eyes and to have experienced her divine power.”

“I was doubtful when she was first referred to as a divine avatar, but after seeing her in person, I agree that there is no better descriptor.”

Nearly everyone was talking about Lady Rozemyne. On the odd occasion that Lady Eglantine was mentioned, it was only to describe her as a “safe choice” for the throne, since she had the divine avatar’s approval.

Lestilaut sighed. “I suspect they meant to demonstrate that a divine avatar holds more status than the new Zent, but still... I wish they had whirled in the opposite order.”

I agreed. Lady Eglantine’s dance was superb. She had successfully activated the circle, created pillars of light, and moved the statues. Had she been first to dance, the audience would surely have been moved by the birth of a new Zent. Instead, she had needed to follow an even more mystical performance by Lady Rozemyne.

“Lord Ferdinand remarked that things seldom go to plan when Lady Rozemyne is involved...” Mother said. “It would seem he was correct.”

“Hmm? Something went wrong?” I asked.

She gave a troubled smile, and the empty chair among the musicians returned to my mind. I gazed around the room, worried, but could not see Lord Ferdinand anywhere. My attention moved next to Lady Rozemyne’s retainers, who were watching from Ahrensbach’s seats. Some of them had vanished as well.

As my thoughts ran rampant, Hartmut, Lady Rozemyne’s vassal, started praying atop the stage. Nothing about his countenance indicated an abrupt change of schedule or a reason to fret about Lady Rozemyne or Lord Ferdinand.

I watched the shrine, but the statues did not move again. Perhaps neither Lady Rozemyne nor Lady Eglantine would return from their audience with the gods. I grew more and more anxious while the other nobles rejoiced at the birth of a new Zent.

“Silence!” Hartmut shouted, his voice cutting through the buzz of the room. “The new Zent and Lady Rozemyne, the Divine Avatar of Mestionora, return!”

The statues moved at last, and the path to the gods opened once more. The entire auditorium went silent as we all gazed up at the topmost level of the shrine. Lady Eglantine returned first, then Lady Rozemyne. The latter’s abrupt disappearance had made me skeptical that they had both received the same invitation, but seeing them together blew the last doubts from my mind.

Lady Eglantine took Lady Rozemyne by the hand, and together they descended the shrine. The divine power radiating from Lady Rozemyne felt even stronger than before.

“Ngh...” Lestilaut groaned. “Why was I denied my utensils?!”

“Because it would seem rude—and perhaps even blasphemous—if you started drawing during this most holy of ceremonies,” I replied. He was so desperate to capture this moment on paper that I feared he might do something embarrassing.

“It seems even more blasphemous to leave this ceremony unpainted. I must return to my room at once and—”

Lestilaut had tried to stand when Mother gave him an icy smile. “I will permit you to leave in silence, but the ceremony has not concluded,” she said. “Would it not be most blasphemous to miss the passing of the Grutrissheit, the most wonderful part of our being here? Of course, if you continue to act in a manner that will shame us, I will send you out whether you want it or not.”

He sat back down and took a deep breath. Mother had an intense look in her eye that said, “Keep quiet if you want to see the rest of the ceremony.”

“So my only choice is to burn the sight into my memory...” my brother concluded. “Very well. I was born for this.” He kept his eyes as wide as they would go and stared intently at Lady Eglantine and Lady Rozemyne. I was struck with the urge to scoot to the far edge of my seat.

Mother! For everyone’s sake, have him escorted out immediately!

We all watched as the two women gracefully descended the shrine. The divine power radiating from Lady Rozemyne was even more intense than before, but Lady Eglantine weathered it with a smile.

“That she can hold Lady Rozemyne’s hand without being overwhelmed proves her might as the next Zent,” I remarked.

“It proves she has the damning resolve to take the throne,” Father added. He spoke harshly and looked especially solemn.

Once again, I sensed that circumstances beyond my understanding were at play. I deduced that Lady Eglantine could endure Lady Rozemyne’s divine power not because she was the next Zent but because she had made a great sacrifice of some kind.

The pair soon made it down to where Hartmut and the other blue priests were lined up. Hartmut approached Lady Rozemyne and held a sound-amplifying magic tool close to her mouth.

“O Zent, blessed by the gods, declare your loyalty to the Goddess of Light, ruler of contracts. Beleuchkrone.”

In the blink of an eye, the Goddess of Light’s crown appeared in Lady Rozemyne’s hands. Lady Eglantine knelt before her, further demonstrating that the Divine Avatar of Mestionora held greater authority than even the country’s ruler.

Lady Rozemyne placed the crown atop Lady Eglantine’s bowed head and took a step back. Hartmut presented the sound-amplifying tool to our soon-to-be new Zent, who accepted it and made her vows to the gods.

“I, Eglantine, hereby swear to the Goddess of Light and the twelve subordinates who serve by her side to correct the distortions that have taken root in Yurgenschmidt, to revive old rituals as the Sovereign temple’s High Bishop, and to keep my promises to Lady Rozemyne, the Divine Avatar of Mestionora.”

The crown burst with light. Lady Eglantine had made an inescapable contract with the gods.

Lady Rozemyne dispelled the divine instrument while Hartmut retrieved the sound-amplifying tool from Lady Eglantine. Once again, he held it up to the divine avatar’s mouth.

“He let Lady Eglantine hold the tool so why not Lady Rozemyne?” my brother grumbled, his face twisted in a grimace. “He is in the way.” He wished to memorize the divine beauty of the two women and so found even the slightest obstruction infuriating.

“He can’t let Lady Rozemyne touch it,” Father explained. “She can’t control goddess-dyed mana as she would normal mana and will turn most feystones to dust in an instant.”

Our jaws dropped.

“Would that not impede her day-to-day life?” I asked. It had never occurred to me that Lady Rozemyne was enduring such a great hardship.

My father did not answer. He moved a finger slightly to indicate the shrine and said, “Stay focused. She is about to give Lady Eglantine the Grutrissheit.”

Lestilaut and I turned at once. Lady Rozemyne waited for Hartmut to move the magic tool into position, then made a new declaration.

“In the Garden of Beginnings, the gods recognized Lady Eglantine as the new Zent. Now that she is oath-bound to the Goddess of Light, I shall bestow the Grutrissheit upon her.”

Hartmut lowered the tool at once. Lady Rozemyne raised her right arm up toward the ceiling, turned her schtappe into a pen, and then elegantly drew a magic circle in the air with her mana.

“What is that magic circle? I do not recognize it...”

“It looks omni-elemental. Few people could activate it so easily.”

As another stir ran through the auditorium, Lady Rozemyne started to pray. We had to strain our ears to hear her; Hartmut had elected not to hold up the magic tool and was instead simply watching her with pride.

“O mighty King and Queen of the endless skies...”

The magic circle began to shine, and darkness hemmed the light. Everyone regarded it with awe, and the whispers faded as the entire room tried to hear what Lady Rozemyne was saying.

“O mighty Eternal Five who rule the mortal realm. O Goddess of Water Flutrane, O God of Fire Leidenschaft, O Goddess of Wind Schutzaria, O Goddess of Earth Geduldh, O God of Life Ewigeliebe...”

Each time she spoke one of the gods’ names, mana flowed out of her schtappe and caused the relevant sigil on the magic circle to shine.

“Please hear my prayer and graciously lend your blessings. I offer you my power and devote to you my service and gratitude. May your divine protection be granted to the new Zent—the power of Water that washes away corruption, of Fire that cannot be extinguished, of Wind that wards against danger, of Earth that embraces all, and of Life that never relents. May she have them one and all.”

Rainbow light rained down upon Lady Eglantine as she knelt. It was my first time seeing an omni-elemental blessing, and the sight was so divine that I gasped despite myself.

Soon enough, the light of the blessing stopped. Lady Rozemyne turned to Hartmut. She must have had more to say because he once again brought the magic tool to her mouth.

“Lady Eglantine, let all see the Grutrissheit and witness that you are the Zent.”

Lady Rozemyne took a step back. The light we had just witnessed must have been for bestowing the Grutrissheit upon our new Zent. I directed my attention to Lady Eglantine, eager to see it, but her hands appeared to be empty.

I was starting to worry when Lady Eglantine rose to her feet, looking not the least bit troubled. She placed both hands on her chest and shouted out for all to hear.

“Grutrissheit!”

In an instant, a thick tome appeared in her arms. She thrust it up into the air so that everyone could see it.

“Ooh!”

“The real Grutrissheit!”

“The Divine Avatar of Mestionora gave Lady Eglantine the Grutrissheit!”

Every noble in Yurgenschmidt had anxiously awaited the return of the Grutrissheit. And now that Lady Eglantine had acquired it, the country had a true Zent once more. I gazed upon Lady Rozemyne, such a dear friend of mine, and a sudden warmth spread through my chest. Fresh tears blurred my vision.

“This is just wonderful...” I said.

I was focused not on Lady Eglantine but on the divine avatar standing a pace behind her. Lady Rozemyne wore a calm smile and looked far more beautiful than I could put into words.

“Now, everyone...” Hartmut said, overcome with emotion. “By the grace of Lady Rozemyne, the Divine Avatar of Mestionora, a true Zent has taken the throne. Let us show gratitude to the mighty King and Queen of the endless skies, the Eternal Five who rule the mortal realm, Flutrane the Goddess of Water, Leidenschaft the God of Fire, Schutzaria the Goddess of Wind, Geduldh the Goddess of Earth, and Ewigeliebe the God of Life. Let us give our prayers to the gods!”

A chair clattered as Hartmut spoke. I turned in the direction of the noise and saw Melchior standing in his High Bishop robes. Following his lead, some of the Ehrenfest and Ahrensbach nobles rose to their feet as well.

“Wh-What are they doing?” I asked. “Should we stand too?”

“I do not know.”

We were taken aback. They had risen with such conviction that we started to doubt ourselves.

“Let us give our prayers to the gods!” the standing nobles declared. Then, together with Lady Rozemyne, Hartmut, and the blue priests, they shot both arms into the air and raised one leg in prayer. The light of a blessing radiated not just from Lady Rozemyne but from the audience as well.

I can understand the Ehrenfest nobles rising in prayer, but why are those from Ahrensbach joining them?!

It was shocking to see them all on the same page.

“Lady Rozemyne and Lady Eglantine shall now depart,” Hartmut announced. “Raise your schtappes high for them!”

We did exactly as instructed. Prince Anastasius and Lord Ferdinand approached the altar and then escorted Lady Eglantine and Lady Rozemyne out of the auditorium. Lights clashed as the new Zent and the avatar of a goddess gracefully made their exit. The blue priests closed the door behind them, concluding an event that would forever change how society viewed the temple and religious ceremonies.

“It was so long ago that Lady Rozemyne urged us to reevaluate the temple,” I said. “Now this feels like a matter of course.”

We prepared to stand, but Hartmut instructed us to remain seated. “Now that a new Zent has arisen, there is much that will need to be decided during the upcoming Archduke Conference,” he said. “Lord Trauerqual shall explain.”

King—no, Lord—Trauerqual blinked several times, then slowly stood and approached the altar. He looked terribly unwell, as one might expect for a man just ousted from power. Upon reaching Hartmut, he accepted the sound-amplifying magic tool and started addressing the gathered aubs about Lanzenave and Ahrensbach’s insurrection.

“Before today’s triumphs—the long-awaited return of the Grutrissheit and the installation of a true Zent—much took place behind the scenes.”

He gave a public-facing interpretation of the revolt, then moved on to discussing the Archduke Conference. Every one of the aubs gave him their full attention; until now, they had been kept mostly in the dark.

He seems to be concealing most of the royal family’s involvement.

My father and mother had already summarized the situation for me, but still. As someone who had actually fought against Lanzenave in Ahrensbach, I could not help feeling that events were being twisted in favor of royalty while simultaneously minimizing the involvement of those from Ehrenfest.

This might be Lady Rozemyne’s wish, but even so...

Lord Trauerqual announced that the Lanzenavians and any Ahrensbach nobles who aided them would need to be punished, that some of the duchies’ borders were being redrawn in preparation for the Archduke Conference, and that the duchy rankings would change drastically as a result.

“This could have waited until the Archduke Conference,” Lestilaut groused. “Can I not just return to my room?”

“Pay attention,” I shot back, my tone chastising. “This is important information for the next Aub Dunkelfelger.”

From there, Lord Trauerqual announced that he and Lord Sigiswald were going to become aubs and that Lady Rozemyne would free Ahrensbach from the sway of Chaocipher the Goddess of Chaos, bestowing upon the duchy a new name and color in the process. Only then were we permitted to leave.

My brother practically shot out of the room with his retainers in tow. Mother watched them go with a look of resignation, then hurried me along as well.

It was then that Eineliebe, my brother’s fiancée, approached us. She was due to marry him during the upcoming Archduke Conference but had not been able to sit with us, as she was still only an archnoble.

“Lady Sieglinde,” she said as she watched my brother depart, “about Lord Lestilaut...”

“He will not leave his room for quite some time, I suspect. How troubling.”

“I understand why he is so stimulated—the ceremony was more splendid than any other I have witnessed—but still... I cannot help but wonder how many new paintings will come of this.”

Hearing her sound so defeated, I was suddenly compelled to apologize in my brother’s place. Anyone would hate the thought of their husband-to-be obsessively making artwork of other women.

“Um, Eineliebe...” I said.

“Worry not, Lady Hannelore—I shall consult Lady Sieglinde when it comes time to drag him from his room. If he makes only one or two pictures, I will not complain, but alas... As soon as inspiration strikes him, he seems to forget that he is Dunkelfelger’s next aub.”

Eineliebe was much too good for Lestilaut. If my brother had any sense left in him, he would start showing his eternal gratitude to her and to our mother, who had put them together in the first place.

Lestilaut was already locked away in his room by the time we returned to the dormitory. I asked my attendants to prepare tea in the common room, where I discussed the ceremony with my parents. Those who had not been too involved in recent events remarked on the grandeur of the spectacle and on Lady Rozemyne’s divine grace, and we exchanged intelligence on subjects we thought were likely to come up during the Archduke Conference.

“To think they were so desperate to buy time that they made some of their announcements early...” Mother said. “I wonder what happened.”

“I don’t have a clue,” Father replied. “I didn’t become the Zent, so it’s of no concern to me.”

Their remarks were almost lost among the excited chatter, but they did not escape my notice.