Entwickeln
Inside the castle, rarely used rooms were stripped of their contents, including carpets and tapestries. This region seldom used carpets during the summer, in any case, so the attendants saw it as a chance to mix things up a little earlier than usual.
The nobles were in quite an uproar about having so little time to relocate their furniture; the entwickeln was only five days away. I was fine with it, since my chambers were still mostly bare, but it was yet another job on top of our preparations for the Archduke Conference. I was told that all sorts of documents were being moved to the dormitory.
Because of all the bustle, I was working in my archducal chambers; everything not used on a daily basis was being teleported to the giebes’ estates and external storage buildings, so I would only have gotten in the way in the aub’s office. My location also meant that bad actors couldn’t approach me under the guise of work. For safety’s sake, I was staying in these living quarters as much as I could, since only a strictly limited set of people could enter them.
“Lady Rozemyne, one of the knights stationed in the teleportation hall received this letter from Zent Eglantine about her visit,” Clarissa announced as she came into my room, indicating a single letter atop the vast stack of documents she was carrying. “Otherwise, these need your signature, and these need to be looked over by Roderick. I have been told to assist you here until lunch.”
I took Eglantine’s letter from the mountain of paperwork upon which it rested. She planned to visit us two days after the entwickeln. Ferdinand had attached a note that said, “You may agree to this.”
“Please send this confirmation letter to Zent Eglantine.” I gave Clarissa my response and then started going through the other documents.
As it stood, Clarissa spent most of her time working in Ferdinand’s office, but her top priority was ensuring the safe arrival of important documents. Retainers from Ehrenfest were inevitably looked down upon for being members of a lower-ranked duchy, but Clarissa, being from Dunkelfelger, encountered no such issues. She was better equipped to stand against the nobles of Old Ahrensbach and was a capable fighter to boot; I pitied whoever tried to steal the documents she was tasked with transporting. My knights were on edge because nobles were pulling all sorts of tricks to reach me.
“Lady Rozemyne, now that we have a date for the Zent’s arrival, we can organize your engagement ceremony as well. Should we not inform Ehrenfest at once? Your parents and the archducal couple will surely want to attend. I propose asking Roderick to write the invitations.”
“I concur,” Roderick said timidly.
Clarissa’s gaze was rather intense, for she was training Roderick in scholarly duties beyond just writing fiction. Preparing invitations was an appropriate task for him, so I decided to leave him to it.
“Lady Rozemyne, if the date of your engagement ceremony is decided, then what about your clothes?” Leonore asked. “Were you not going to retrieve some from Ehrenfest?” We didn’t have time to make new ones, which greatly limited our options.
“I think the clothes I wore to my meeting with the royal family would work nicely—the ones made of both Ahrensbach and Ehrenfest-dyed cloth. What do you all think?”
Lieseleta gave an approving nod. “A most wonderful embodiment of your desire to unite Ehrenfest and Alexandria. And as they were designed to be worn around royalty, they will not look out of place at an engagement ceremony.”
“Indeed,” Gretia added. “They were made of the best cloth available, and you have the perfect hair ornament to go with them. I shall contact Lord Justus about preparing matching clothes for Lord Ferdinand.” She wasted not another moment before sending an ordonnanz to him.
Of all the clothes to wear for my engagement... Ahaha.
A smile arose naturally on my face. Now that my lost memories had returned, I understood the significance of wearing a hairpin made by Tuuli and clothes made of cloth from both Ferdinand and my mom.
Clarissa smiled as well. “I am glad to see that your engagement to Lord Ferdinand brings you such joy.”
I almost corrected her but held my tongue. This wasn’t the time or place.
“Would you approve of making Lieseleta your feystone bearer?” Clarissa asked. I saw nothing wrong with the idea, so I turned to Lieseleta and asked if she would take the role.
“Um, hold on...” Roderick interjected. “Does that mean you decided on your engagement vow? Lord Ferdinand ordered me to inspect it.” He must have been chosen for being a talented author.
I turned away from the girls to meet Roderick’s gaze. “It is unfortunate, but no, I am still working on my vow. Rarely do women propose, so there are few sources I can draw from. I will need to reference the history of past queens, biblical verses, or perhaps Ehrenfest’s love stories, but which will work best? I suppose I should read them all to find out.”
The words of one’s proposal are deeply important, so... Yippee!
I made my signature “How troubling...” pose, though I couldn’t keep a smile from playing on my lips. My internal celebration was short-lived, however, as Roderick pulled me down from cloud nine.
“Fear not. Lord Ferdinand instructed me to walk you through your ideal proposal and draw from the bible in your place.”
“Oh, but that would be...”
Unsure how to continue, I turned to Lieseleta for assistance. She smiled, inspected a board, and said, “The words of a proposal are important for an engagement ceremony. But did Lord Ferdinand not say to focus on the entwickeln and ensure it can be performed without issue?”
“He did, but...”
“You have also been told to practice with an adult harspiel, as you have grown too much for your old one,” Leonore interjected. “Shall I summon Rosina?”
“Wait, Leonore. I wish to read, not practice the harspiel.”
Cornelius put a hand on my shoulder. “Good news. If you’re bored of paperwork, I was told to get you used to touching feystones without wincing. I doubt you’re going to read anytime soon.”
“Is that a grin?!” I spat. “I’m dying here and you’re grinning?!”
Hmph! Curse you, Ferdinand, and your never-ending contingencies!
I was so annoyed that I complained to Ferdinand all throughout our next meal together. He barely seemed to care and said only that there was no helping it when we had so much to do.
“No matter your motivation, there is no time for you to get absorbed in reading. But if you are patient, I will permit you to teach the scholars your Rozemyne Decimal System before the books are brought into the library made anew by the entwickeln. You may operate it as you please and according to whatever principles you wish.”
“Really?” I asked. He was always harping on about the trouble I caused when I followed my whims, so I certainly hadn’t expected this. “I won’t listen if you try to take it back later.”
“Yes, assuming the Archduke Conference concludes without incident.”
I committed that promise to memory and elected to put my all into my duties, even if they didn’t involve reading. That was easier said than done, though, as I was distracted with thoughts of and plans for my library. Rosina scolded me on more than one occasion, but I supposed there was no helping that.
We decided to hold the entwickeln on a sunny day when relocating furniture would be less of a problem. I’d just eaten breakfast and gotten dressed when my retainers spread out a sizable magic circle like the ones used to move taxes and started teleporting luggage and furniture... somewhere.
“Lady Rozemyne, do you have all that you need for the entwickeln?” Hartmut asked.
A pouch of gold dust I’d made with my divine power, the city’s schematics, the key to the foundation... I double-checked to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything and then nodded.
“Wonderful. And your room has been fully cleared, correct?”
“It has. Let us leave with the others.”
My retainers carried out one final check, making sure my chambers really were empty. Then they filtered out into the hallway.
“We shall record the entwickeln with a magic tool,” Clarissa informed me.
I nodded and saw her off with a smile. Being in the foundation meant I wouldn’t get to see the entwickeln with my own eyes, but I didn’t want to miss the birth of my library city. I already knew from seeing Ferdinand create Hasse’s monastery in an instant that it was going to be a sight to behold.
“Still, actually making the city matters more than just seeing it appear,” I mused aloud. “Though this is my first time performing an entwickeln. I can’t help worrying that I might make a mistake of some kind...”
Despite having studied creation magic again and again, this was my first time actually using it. I could already feel my muscles tensing and my limbs going rigid. My nerves must have been fully on display as I gracelessly approached the door to the foundation.
“The key... The key...”
Aubs disguised the keys to their foundations so that others wouldn’t even recognize them. Ahrensbach’s was a buckle. According to Ferdinand, Detlinde had used it to fasten the belt from which she hung her highbeast feystone and potions.
I placed the buckle inside a pouch—the thought of seeing its feystone turned my stomach—then reached in and channeled mana into it. A key soon took shape in my hand.
The door to the foundation was a magical device of sorts. Unlocking and opening it revealed an opaque, iridescent barrier. I was so used to seeing them that I stepped through without the slightest hesitation and entered a space with white walls.
“Right, what do I need to do again?” I cast Grutrissheit to form my Book of Mestionora and reviewed what Ferdinand had taught me. “‘Push the key against the back wall, and doors will appear on the adjacent walls.’ Oh, there they are. Let’s see... ‘Under no circumstances should you insert the key into either keyhole. Instead, touch it against each feystone and supply them with mana.’” I took a moment to process the instruction and groaned, “Ugh, feystones.”
Swallowing my nerves, I touched the key to the feystones on the doors and channeled mana into them. Even though I was trying to avert my eyes, I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking.
Scary or not, this is better than touching them directly. Come on, Rozemyne! You can do this!
Once the feystones were full, a door appeared on the back wall. I ignored its obvious keyhole and supplied yet another feystone, trembling all the while.
“To think you get cursed if you try any of the keyholes...” I uttered under my breath. “Is that scary or what?”
Ferdinand had known about the traps and puzzles protecting the foundation and searched through Alstede’s memories to learn how to solve them. He had also checked with Detlinde for good measure but was reluctant to believe her answers.
I wouldn’t trust her either, but the fact he chose to peer into Alstede’s memories instead still speaks volumes.
As soon as the newest feystone was full, the door opened on its own. I stepped into the windowless white box that was the foundation’s hall.
Floating at the center of the room were seven feystones, each boasting one of the divine colors. They sparkled and expelled what appeared to be a fine powder; Ferdinand’s mana from the replenishment hall made it here without issue, it seemed. I took that as my signal to reach into my bag of gold dust.
“Now, let us begin.”
As per our plan, this entwickeln would rebuild the castle, the temple, the Noble’s Quarter, and a portion of the commoners’ lower city.
And the schematics for my library are based on the British Museum Reading Room. Eheheh... Heheheheh.
The new library built on the castle’s grounds would take the form of a magic circle. Antonio Panizzi had come up with the idea for the Reading Room in 1852, and now, all these years later, I was stealing his design for my own purposes. It wasn’t complete plagiarism, of course; I planned to add an extra section to house my chambers, where I would spend my days when I retired as the aub. The thought of becoming a live-in librarian like Solange made me look forward to getting old.
A suspended corridor would connect my library to the laboratory I was making for Ferdinand. I didn’t know what he had in mind for his lab—I was just going to follow his schematics—but he’d discussed it extensively with his scholars, so I trusted it would suit his needs perfectly.
I made sure the schematics were within my reach, then grabbed a fistful of gold dust and started sprinkling it over the foundation. Using my other hand, I turned my schtappe into a pen and drew the sigils of the supreme gods in the air.
“I am one who offers prayer and gratitude to the gods who have created the world—one who seeks to alter their design.”
The gold dust in my hand rose into the air on its own and gathered on the tip of my stylus. It rimmed my magic circle, which grew larger and more complex with each movement I made. Then the circle spun and appeared in full above the foundation, where it shone with dazzling light.
“May the power to absorb be granted in the name of Schicksantracht the God of Darkness.”
I swung my schtappe down, and the magic circle started to descend toward the foundation. An even brighter light enveloped me the moment the two met. I gripped the schematics and continued to pray.
“May the power to create be granted in the name of Versprechredi the Goddess of Light.”
I opened my hands, and the schematics shot up into the air as if caught by a sudden gust of wind. Then they erupted in golden flame, burning from the center outward.
“Through prayer and with gratitude, I give you these fragments of life. May the divine couple grant their blessings and places of rest be added to the world.”
I continually added mana and gold dust to the magic circle to prevent it from disappearing. My role as the aub was simply to keep it alive until it erupted with light and vanished.
This would definitely be more fun to watch from outside.
There was nothing for me to look at while casting the spell except the magic circle. Meanwhile, the rest of the duchy was getting to see an entire city being built in the blink of an eye. Aubs sure were handed the short end of the stick.
That said, some things need to be done before anyone else sees them.
Perhaps the greatest example was the creation of the path to the foundation, which was normally made only when a new duchy was founded. Ferdinand wanted me to completely remake ours, in large part because my name-sworn now knew about it. The Zent and the new aub would normally work together for this purpose, but there was no need when I already had my own Book of Mestionora.
“Grutrissheit!”
I took out two keys while looking at my Book of Mestionora. One was for entering the foundation through the aub’s chambers in the castle, and the other was for entering through the temple’s book room.
“The door in the temple’s book room can wait until we have bookshelves and a statue in place to disguise it, but the one in the castle needs to be ready for when I return.”
In the past, duchies prevented outsiders from stealing their foundations by ensuring that keys alone weren’t enough to enter their halls. They set up their own tricks and traps, the solutions to which aubs passed down to their successors. One could reach this foundation by ignoring the keyholes and pouring mana into some feystones, but other duchies required things like writing down a password or activating feystones in a particular order.
I wonder what we should do for Alexandria...
“I don’t want to touch feystones, so maybe a password would work better. How about ‘Urano Motosu’ in Japanese? Hmm... It wouldn’t be a problem for me, but my successors might find the kanji outright impossible.”
It was time to go back to the drawing board. An ideal password needed to be easy enough that I could pass it down but not so easy that it might one day be cracked. Not to mention, I would need to write it every time I entered the foundation’s hall, so making it less tedious was an absolute must. I couldn’t even discuss it with Ferdinand, since it had to be something known only to me.
“He said to make it something I want from future protectors of Alexandria—like a test to make sure I can leave the duchy in their hands—but... what would a library city expect from its aub?”
I pondered the question for a moment. Then I returned to the door, touched my Book of Mestionora, and selected a certain magic circle with my fingers.
“Copy and place!”
I copied the circle onto the door and pressed my key against it, causing Old Ahrensbach’s puzzles to disappear. It was time to create one of my own.
“Anyone who inherits my library system should at least know the five laws of library science. And they need to understand the ancient language so the Grutrissheit doesn’t go missing again.”
Knowing the ancient language would allow them to learn whatever else they needed to know from the Royal Academy’s library. Yurgenschmidt would never collapse as long as people were reaching Erwaermen.
For my question that would protect the foundation, I wrote, “What are Ranganathan’s five laws of library science?” in the ancient language. Then I penned the answer:
1. Books are for use.
2. Every person his or her book.
3. Every book its reader.
4. Save the time of the reader.
5. A library is a growing organism.
I wanted my successors to respect the proper way of operating a library and care about the process enough to know these answers by heart.
“Of course, I should also strive to uphold these rules. I can’t yet give everyone equal access to books, but I hope the library can grow alongside Alexandria.”
Once I’d confirmed that the puzzle worked as intended, I needed to decide on the penalty for failure. Ahrensbach’s curse seemed pretty scary to me, but almost every other punishment listed in the Book of Mestionora was horrifyingly violent. Dart shooters and collapsing ceilings were among the least gruesome options. I was surprised aubs let their successors anywhere near the foundation.
“I guess a curse really is the most peaceful choice. Better to leave your victim on the brink of death than kill them outright. Or is it more cruel, since they’re stuck with that pain for the rest of their life? Ugh, this sucks... I can’t believe there’s no option to just shoo them away... I’m no good with these kinds of decisions, and it won’t let me leave without choosing a punishment.”
In the end, I opted to stick with a curse. I copied one from the Book of Mestionora and pasted it where it needed to be.
“Done at last...”
I exited the foundation’s hall, exhausted, and closed the door behind me. Then I took out one of the paper-based communication devices Hartmut had made to circumvent my fear of ordonnanzes and set about folding it into a simple airplane. Ferdinand had told me to contact him once the entwickeln was complete.
Beyond the now frameless window stretched a city of pure white. It matched the schematics to the last detail—as expected—so I already knew where to find the library. Its domed roof caught my eye immediately.
“This is it... My library city.”
My heart was so full that tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t even begin to describe my happiness. This feeling wasn’t something to be relished alone; I wanted to share it. I wanted to cheer with the people who had so graciously helped me and start discussing the future with no holds barred.
I took a moment to admire my library before throwing the paper airplane out the window. I watched it soar through the air as it beelined to Ferdinand, who soon approached on his highbeast with our retainers in tow.
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