Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 5.8 - Chapter 9

The Zent and the Grutrissheit

“To think the royal family would prove themselves so foolish... and so shameless...” Ferdinand said, his lips curving into a cruel smile as he rose to his feet. He must not have fully recovered yet as his legs were still trembling.

Run, royals! Run while you still can!

As I screamed on the inside, Ferdinand met my eye. “That goes for you as well, Rozemyne.”

“I... I’m terribly sorry!”

I didn’t know why he was so annoyed, but his overwhelming aura compelled me to apologize. Of course, the insincere gesture only made him more frustrated.

“Rozemyne, it would seem that I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“E-Eep...”

Was there a human alive who would take him at face value? His eyes were swirling with intense emotion, and his voice was so low that it chilled the air.

Nobody who’s grateful pulls a face like that!

“Your words and actions have helped me notice a great many things.”

Faced with such stern eyes, my only option was to employ the most important teaching from China’s Thirty-Six Stratagems: if all else fails, retreat! Thankfully, because this was an emergency, excuses were in good supply. Now that Ferdinand was well enough to stand, I needed to report back to my retainers waiting outside.

“Um... Ahrensbach is in a lot of danger right now, and the Lanzenavians are going crazy! Plus, erm... They kidnapped some noblewomen too, I think. So I need to go and—”

“Hmm... Then we should prioritize burning Ahrensbach to the ground and replacing it with a new duchy. To that end, the Lanzenavians’ rampage should serve us well.”

Ferdinand was supposed to be angry with the royal family and me; why was he taking out his frustrations on Ahrensbach? I understood that he was the Lord of Evil and all, but I didn’t see the connection.

“Hold on... How is that the conclusion you’ve come to? Lanzenave is—”

“Ahrensbach’s existence complicates matters for me. Destroying it alongside the Lanzenavians will solve that.”

“But you’d create even more problems in the process!” I glared up at Ferdinand and spread out my arms, blocking his way. “I won’t let you!”

At once, his anger flared. What the heck was I doing? I was supposed to be running from the Lord of Evil, not taking him head-on!

“Why are you protecting Ahrensbach and Lanzenave?” he asked.

“I’m not. But if you attack Ahrensbach right now, you might violate the contract that forbids you from opposing me and die.”

Ferdinand continued to stare at me, but he didn’t seem quite as frustrated; his eyes returned to their normal golden hue, and the look on his face gradually became more guarded. “Why would attacking Ahrensbach violate our contract?” he asked. “What have you done?”

“Time was of the essence, so I dyed its foundation. As it stands, in terms of mana, I am Aub Ahrensbach.”

“Excuse me...?”

“It was the fastest method I could think of.”

Ferdinand froze, his eyes wide open as he struggled to process my response. It felt like ages since I’d seen him overload. I must have just said something truly abnormal.

“How in the world was that the decision you came to?” he eventually asked. “The fastest method would have been to capture the aub, threaten or even torture her for the registration feystones, and then force her to sign a contract. What lunatic would dye a foundation just to rescue someone?”

“You’re looking at her.”

Ferdinand crumpled to his knees as if completely sapped of strength. He heaved the deepest sigh, then looked up at me and said, “You truly are the biggest fool I have ever met.”

“I mean, having to torture someone sounds awful. I wouldn’t have had the stomach, even if we’d come up with a plan that required it. Not to mention, I don’t know what Lady Detlinde’s elder sister looks like. Can you imagine how much time we might have wasted searching for her?” No matter how I sliced it, using the temple’s key to dye Ahrensbach’s foundation seemed way more reliable. “So, to conclude: leave Ahrensbach’s cleanup to me and return to Ehrenfest. I can take responsibility for what I’ve done.”

Ferdinand stood up again and pinched my cheek. He’d recovered enough that it actually stung this time.

“That hurtsh...”

“You are still clueless, I see,” Ferdinand said, his smile even more terrifying than usual. “At the very least, you are not saying what you ought to be.”

I gave his hand a few smacks while getting teary-eyed. “Then tell me what to say. I’ll say it.”

“Ask for my help. By inciting a rebellion against the Zent, Detlinde is committing treason of the highest order. Her sister is an accomplice, her mother is invading Ehrenfest, and even Letizia is now guilty of attempted murder. If you wish to resolve these issues, then you need my assistance. Nobody is better informed about Ahrensbach’s internals.”

My breath caught in my throat. Ahrensbach’s archducal family was made up entirely of criminals. The commoners and nobles wrapped up in this awful mess without any idea what was going on would surely be furious.

“Your support would warm my heart, Ferdinand... but wouldn’t you rather go back to Ehrenfest? It feels cruel to keep you in Ahrensbach when your time here has been so deeply unpleasant...”

He pulled my ear. “You just asked me what I wanted you to say. Have you already forgotten, or did you simply not hear me properly?”

“Eep! Please help me, Ferdinand! Please and thank you! You’re the only one I can rely on!”

“If you insist. I can think of nothing more terrifying than leaving you to your own devices.”

How about unleashing the Lord of Evil? Even during one of my rampages, I’d never propose burning Ahrensbach to the ground!

I glared at Ferdinand while rubbing my throbbing ear... only for him to glare straight back at me. Spooky.

“So, what do you intend to do?” he asked. “One person cannot hold two foundations at the same time, so you cannot become the Zent while you are an aub. You understand that, I imagine.”

That restriction was why Zents had traditionally been chosen from among the country’s High Bishops. It also explained why, when the decision was made for aubs to take the throne instead, those who were chosen to rule had needed to find someone to inherit their duchy’s foundation first.

“I do. That’s why I plan to get someone else to dye Ahrensbach’s foundation. Then I’ll either dye Yurgenschmidt’s foundation myself or go to the underground archive and obtain the Grutrissheit to give to the royal family.”

The fastest way to keep the vessel that was Yurgenschmidt alive was for someone else to dye Ahrensbach so that I could dye the country’s foundation. However, considering the walls that separated royals from duchies, that course of action would introduce a whole slew of problems.

“As I see it, I would make the fewest waves by retrieving the magic tool from the underground archive,” I said. “Is that not how the royals have always consolidated their power?”

“No, the magic tool was introduced only in recent times, and its existence as a means for the royals to secure their power has caused more than enough chaos. Do you have a correct understanding of Zent candidates and the Book of Mestionora?”

“I understand the basics, at least. They were put in my head when I acquired my section of the Book.” And since that knowledge had gone to me, not Ferdinand, maybe he was the one who was misinformed.

“In that case, I would ask you to explain what separates the Book of Mestionora from the royal family’s Grutrissheit. Any misunderstandings will only complicate our discussion.”

“The Book of Mestionora is wisdom forced upon you by Erwaermen in the Garden of Beginnings once you’ve circled the shrines, received tablets of every element from the gods, and activated the giant magic circle in the sky. It’s imprinted on your schtappe, which means it can’t be passed down. The Grutrissheit, on the other hand, currently seen as the symbol of a true Zent, was made long ago so that someone who failed to obtain the Book of Mestionora could still take the throne. As a magic tool, it can be passed down.”

Both contained the knowledge one would need to become the Zent. They were also required for things like activating the country gates.

“Hm. No mistakes so far,” Ferdinand said. “Can you tell me how Yurgenschmidt transitioned from the Book of Mestionora to the Grutrissheit?”

“Even in the past, when several Zent candidates would obtain the Book from Erwaermen, it was hard to absorb such an insane amount of wisdom without spilling any. That was why they created their own (instruction manual).”

“Come again? Do not invent strange words and expect me to know their meaning.”

“Sorry. Um...” I racked my brain for an alternative. “Like a guide. Or a written explanation.”

“It was meant to serve as a reference so that a Zent with an incomplete Book of Mestionora could still carry out their duties.”

The wisdom obtained through Erwaermen contained so many miscellaneous details that it was hard to parse, which was why the Grutrissheit proved so useful. Of course, allowing anyone access to such an important book would cause all manner of chaos, so it was kept at the back of the underground archive that only Zent candidates could enter. They would read through it, using the information within to fill any holes in their own Books of Mestionora so that they could perform their duties.

“Had that process continued,” Ferdinand explained, “there would not have been any issues... but Garansorg’s foolishness made it so that Zent candidates stopped visiting Erwaermen. Do you know why?”

“Oh, he was that troublemaker, right? The one who was rejected by the golden shumil and blocked from obtaining the Book of Mestionora, then realized he could learn everything he needed to know from the underground archive.”

“Your explanation does not adequately convey the severity of the matter. Garansorg was rejected by the gods for his dangerous love of war and conflict.”

As long as we were on the same page, I didn’t think “the severity of the matter” was that important. Ferdinand was probably taking everything way too seriously.

To summarize, Garansorg’s dangerous mindset had caused the golden shumil to refuse him, but channeling mana into the library’s goddess statue had made the shape of the Grutrissheit appear in his mind. He had then realized that he could simply acquire the knowledge he lacked from the underground archive rather than bother to go through Erwaermen or obtain Mestionora’s wisdom.

“And so Yurgenschmidt received a Zent who loved war and looked down on the wisdom of the gods,” Ferdinand said.

Being omni-elemental was the only requirement to have the shape of the Grutrissheit carved into one’s mind. From there, one could simply fill its pages from the underground archive. The news that being moral and pious was no longer necessary to become the Zent had spread, and the wars that Garansorg had longed for soon followed.

“People have a tendency to follow the path of least resistance,” Ferdinand continued. “The work required to obtain the Book of Mestionora was gradually ignored as everyone focused instead on the library’s Grutrissheit, which looked the same and contained the knowledge they desired.”

“Not even the pious enjoy the struggles of grueling hard work,” I noted.

No longer did one need to pray at the shrines and activate the giant magic circle in the sky. The number of Zent candidates exploded, and those who would normally have been turned away by the golden shumil started taking the throne through war.

Ferdinand nodded. “The need for Zents to circle the shrines faded, and conflicts became more numerous. Tell me, what happened then?”

“Those who tried circling the shrines were mocked as inferior candidates, as people assumed they weren’t omni-elemental. It was a political scheme to weaken the more diligent candidates, right?”

Back then, Zents and nobles had still performed religious ceremonies on a regular basis, so they had obtained plenty of divine protections even without going to the shrines. Circling the shrines changed in meaning but nothing else.

Ferdinand furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. “You are correct, but are you forgetting the Zent who, in her determination to bring an end to the nonstop hostilities, committed the most foolish act of all?”

I shook my head. “Zent Rauchelstra was so heartbroken by the horrible battles being fought over the throne and the havoc it was wreaking on the holy land that she thought it best to limit the number of people who could become Zent candidates.”

During her generation, every single duchy had produced its own Zent candidates, and the ensuing battles between them had been particularly brutal. As a proper Zent with the Book of Mestionora, Rauchelstra had turned to Erwaermen, consulted him about the wars of succession, and bemoaned their negative impact. She had perceived the problem as being that anyone could take the throne and, to put a stop to the chaos, made it so that only those registered as a member of her family could enter the back portion of the archive. Through her actions, only those from her house, which vehemently opposed warfare, could ascend to the position of Zent.

Rauchelstra then made two guardians in the image of the golden shumil tasked with allowing only righteous individuals to visit Erwaermen: one black, and one white. She placed them in the library to keep an eye on the Zent candidates and ensure that only her family were allowed into the back section of the underground archive. Those who resisted were purged through the Zent’s powers, one by one.

To discourage attacks from potential rebels, Rauchelstra moved from the holy land where Erwaermen resided to the current royal palace and made teleportation doors the only way to travel between them. Even if someone who had used the knowledge from the underground archive to obtain their own Book of Mestionora appeared, the Zent could simply execute them, thereby ensuring that only the Zent’s kin would obtain the Grutrissheit. It was through this process that the royal family came to be.

It surprised me to learn that Schwartz and Weiss had been created before princesses were even a thing in Yurgenschmidt, and that the “milady” they used to address everyone originally referred to Zent Rauchelstra.

“Her decisions were widely criticized,” I continued. “But when the violent battles for power started to wane, some began to praise her. There wasn’t even a drop in the quality of her successors, as the royals produced omni-elemental Zents who took religious ceremonies seriously. The era that followed was one of peace.”

“Come now, it was a disaster. Because she monopolized the powers of the Zent and started such an iron reign, only a select few were able to visit the holy land. Participation in religious ceremonies plummeted.”

During an age when obtaining the Grutrissheit was impossible for most and one wrong move could result in execution, fewer aubs and the High Bishops meant to succeed them visited the holy land and performed religious ceremonies. Enormous rituals quickly became a thing of the past as the lack of participants forced the royals, who were now performing them alone, to scale things down. Soon enough, even the duchies looked down on the temple and religious ceremonies.

“Not to mention, disputes for the throne then took root within the royal family. It must be said that Zent Rauchelstra had far too much faith in her own descendants.”

That a member of the royal family should take the throne soon became a given. In one generation, a battle between brothers resulted in the death of them both, leaving only the sickly Schubankheit to rule. So that he could carry out the necessary religious ceremonies in spite of his poor health, the Sovereign temple was constructed near his place of residence, and the ceremonies were performed there.

In a stroke of good fortune, Schubankheit begot a healthy child. But by the time that child took the throne, religious ceremonies had already been performed at the Sovereign temple instead of the holy land for decades. The Zent knew nothing of performing them in the holy land, so they continued to be held at the Sovereign temple.

“And with that,” Ferdinand concluded, “the holy land was reduced to a place of education for children from the duchies who came to obtain their schtappes.”

“And that was when people started calling it the Royal Academy.”

Even with the royal family’s many restrictions and their move away from the holy land, they still needed to obtain their own Grutrissheits. To that end, they would visit the Royal Academy’s library, pour mana into the statue of the Goddess of Wisdom, and then write down whatever they needed from the back of the archive.

“The Grutrissheit became a magic tool due to Zent Albsenti loving her son above all else,” Ferdinand continued.

Albsenti had many children, but she doted on only one of them: Neigunheit. She wanted nothing more than for her most adored son to become the Zent, but everyone looked down on him; he was lacking an element and too apathetic to perform the necessary work to obtain it through prayer.

“She was a failure as both a Zent and a mother,” I said. “To begin with, it was purely out of selfishness that she tried to make Neigunheit the next Zent. Didn’t she realize how much anguish the throne would cause her beloved son? Her form of love was abnormal and deeply biased. I can’t empathize with her at all—and to be honest, I think she was one messed-up person.”

“Nonetheless, she was an extremely skilled creator of magic tools. She made a Grutrissheit solely so that her most beloved son could rule.”

And indeed, Neigunheit went on to become the Zent. Thanks to his mother’s forceful backing and the Grutrissheit she had given him, which was usable even by those who didn’t have every element, the people were forced to accept his rule.

“The magic tool was designed to return to the underground archive when its owner died,” I noted. “In other words, right now, it’s exactly where it belongs.”

Having been showered with love by his mother, Neigunheit got his own most beloved son, Rundsein, to inherit the Grutrissheit from him. He did this before his death by registering the tool to the boy’s schtappe.

In truth, Rundsein didn’t need the magic tool; he was omni-elemental and competent enough that he could easily have gotten his own Grutrissheit. Still, Neigunheit saw the magic tool as the crystallization of his mother’s love and bestowed it upon his son as a show of adoration. He also neglected to mention that it would return to the underground archive when its owner died.

And so Rundsein came to assume that the Grutrissheit magic tool was supposed to be passed down through schtappe mana exchanges. He knew that the true version lay at the back of the archive but never sent his son there to obtain it, instead opting to transfer the boy his magic tool, as his father had done with him.

“Thus,” Ferdinand continued, “the Grutrissheit became not something one obtained on one’s own but a magic tool passed down from one generation to the next. It does not surprise me that someone eventually came to assume they could steal it and claim the throne.”

“And that was what started the civil war,” I said.

As we both knew, Second Prince Waldifrid had inherited the Grutrissheit magic tool from his bedridden father. Then he died at the hands of the first prince, who wanted to become the Zent. The magic tool disappeared at once, as intended, and returned to the back of the underground archive, where only those registered as members of the royal family could enter. Those who searched the second and third princes’ villas left empty-handed.

The fact that the Grutrissheit magic tool returned to the archive had never been passed down, so nobody in the royal family had any idea where to find it. I only knew because I’d obtained Mestionora’s wisdom.

“Thanks to our knowledge of the history surrounding the line of succession, we should easily be able to obtain the Grutrissheit magic tool from the back of the underground archive. Then we can transfer it by schtappe,” I said. “Mixing mana will take some time, since I don’t have any royal blood in me, but letting another royal take the throne in my stead should have the smallest impact, right?”

Once I was married to the first prince and we’d mixed mana, I would give him the Grutrissheit magic tool. It could be passed down like Dunkelfelger’s staff of the Goddess of Oceans.

“That was your logic for marrying Prince Sigiswald, I assume.” Ferdinand sneered. “You do realize that even if you transfer the Grutrissheit to the royals, none of them will be able to read its contents, correct? Will your hard work not be for nothing?”

I could sense his frustration that the royals hadn’t even begun studying the ancient language despite his warning. And to be honest, I understood it. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how long I would need to wait before they could properly use the Grutrissheit.

“They have such an amazing excuse to read, but they’re too busy to take it. You know, Ferdinand, when I met with Zent Trauerqual, he smelled as strongly of potions as you always do. I’ve been so busy with the handover this year that I’ve barely had a chance to sit down with a book. I can only imagine how tough the royals have it. I actually feel kind of bad that they’ve gone years without having a chance to relax.”

“How can you speak as though such problems are not your own? If you are adopted into the royal family and married to Prince Sigiswald, you will end up equally as busy—for years to come, might I add.”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. Ferdinand was speaking the cold, hard truth, but that wasn’t something I wanted to face right now.

“I expect to have more time when I come of age and resume my work on the printing industry. Other than that, what can I do? My current ideas include having books from Ehrenfest sent to me each season as a courtesy and creating a royal decree so that I receive copies of all newly printed works.”

In response to my forced optimism, Ferdinand crossed his arms and gave me a weary look. “What point is there in getting more books if you cannot read them? If you would give such foolish decrees, then you are far from ready to join the royal family. I must find a way to prevent your adoption, clean up this mess in Ahrensbach, and send you back to Ehrenfest posthaste.”

His words pierced my heart. I’d spent so much of my time thinking about how to return him to Ehrenfest that I’d never once considered my own situation. We’d spent so long operating under the assumption that I was moving to the Sovereignty that I’d thought staying in Ehrenfest was out of the question for me.

“What is that expression?” Ferdinand asked. “Are you hiding even more from me?”

“I’m not, but... once I’ve moved, I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed to return to Ehrenfest. I could visit, maybe, but never come back for good.”

“Explain,” he said, leaning closer.

I gave Ferdinand an appropriate summary of my situation: my engagement to Wilfried was no more, and neither one of us had the emotional resolve to repair it, even if my arrangement with the royal family ended up falling through. Wilfried didn’t want to be the aub anymore, whereas Charlotte did. Moreover, now that Melchior was becoming the High Bishop, there wasn’t a place for me in the temple.

“We’ve spent a year preparing for my departure,” I continued. “Were I to return to Ehrenfest, I don’t doubt that everyone would push down their true feelings and welcome me with open arms. But as I can’t become the aub, I’d simply be unwanted and unneeded.”

Returning the Grutrissheit to the royal family was too enormous an achievement. If I went back to Ehrenfest afterward, the nobles there would start pushing for me to become the aub instead of Charlotte or Melchior, and there wouldn’t be anything I could do to quell their enthusiasm.

Bonifatius doted on me no matter the circumstances and would go to extreme lengths to support me, whereas Sylvester would never allow me to become the next aub. I could already see my return igniting a furious dispute over who should rule, which was the last thing Ehrenfest needed now that things had settled down. It would also ruin all the hard work Brunhilde was putting into becoming Sylvester’s second wife and bringing balance to the Leisegangs.

“And my concerns reach beyond the archducal family. The Gutenbergs have been handing over their positions in preparation for their departure. They would be in all sorts of trouble if I suddenly told them they had to stay in Ehrenfest.”

The Gutenbergs were in the same boat as me. Leherls who resolved to leave their workshop wouldn’t be able to return so easily.

“Ferdinand, the only reason I was allowed to lead my retainers into Ahrensbach on this rescue mission was because Sylvester and the others didn’t include me in their defense plans, since they knew I might leave at any moment. No matter where you look, nobody sees a future for me in Ehrenfest.”

Ferdinand closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “So that is how things have developed...”

“Correct. So you should return to Ehrenfest while I—”

“Silence,” he snapped, pinching my cheek even though I hadn’t said anything wrong. “I will consider what is best for you. For now, let us clean up the mess in front of us. We shall wipe away Lanzenave and close the border gate. Come.”

Ferdinand marched toward the door, moving at such a brisk pace that one would never believe he’d been immobile just a short while ago. Our long conversation must have given him enough time to recover, as there wasn’t a trace of pain in his expression anymore.

“Hold on,” I said. “Lady Detlinde removed your registration feystone, so you can’t leave until we’ve found it or made you a new one.”

“If nothing else, I see her brain manages to function when it comes to acts of cruelty...” Ferdinand mused. Then he pointed at the exit. “You had to move a wooden box aside to get here, did you not? There are reserve registration feystones within, and the door should open if you have dyed the foundation. Bring one to me at once.”