Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume Short Story-2 - Chapter 14

Anastasius — Various Goals

Description: A sales bonus short story for Part 5 Volume 3, set during the aftermath of Detlinde’s dedication whirl. How do the royals feel about the circle that appeared onstage? What do those of the Sovereign temple have to say about it? These are the events that precede Eglantine’s attempt to gather information from Rozemyne.

Author’s Note: I always have a hard time writing stories from the royal family’s perspective, as I need to think extremely carefully about how much information to reveal. The balance of power between royals is also surprisingly complex.

“That whirling was unlike anything I have ever experienced,” Mother said. “For that young lady to have repelled the God of Darkness so, she must have been the Goddess of Chaos in disguise.”

“Yes, truly...” agreed Lady Magdalena, Father’s third wife. “Did their whirling teacher truly consider her a fitting Goddess of Light? I found her style a tad too novel and eccentric.”

Our lunchtime meeting between the Royal Academy’s coming-of-age and graduation ceremonies began with sighs and exasperated critiques of the recent dedication whirl. Detlinde, an archduke candidate of Ahrensbach, was intensely unpopular with the Zent’s wives. I agreed with their opinions completely.

That said, I imagine she might have whirled at least a bit better if not for her dress and those hair ornaments...

My dear wife, Eglantine, had been asked to attend a practice session to demonstrate the proper technique. Detlinde’s performance had paled in comparison, of course, but it hadn’t been bad enough for a professor to deem it necessary to remove her from being the Goddess of Light.

I continued to eat, considering it best to leave such thoughts unsaid.

“I find it positively baffling that nobody thought to stop her. What must Ahrensbach’s first wife have thought? Or the young lady’s fiancé, even?”

“Were her Ehrenfest hairpins not a present from her partner-to-be?” Sigiswald asked. “I gave Adolphine hers personally. It might just be the case that her fiancé has strange tastes.”

In an instant, my brother’s words changed the flow of the conversation. Those who had mocked Detlinde’s attire now rounded on Ferdinand, who had given her those hair ornaments in the first place.

“Goodness, how unfortunate... If only he had put more thought into those hairpins. A woman has no choice but to wear the accessories she receives from her betrothed.”

“My sympathies to her, then, that she had to conclude her time at the Academy with such a horrendous hairdo.”

Lady Adolphine had cocked her head at my brother’s words, then furrowed her brow when my father’s wives both briskly changed their stances. “Oh my. But it might not be the case that her fiancé designed or even ordered the hairpins,” she said, putting forward a light protest.

My brother had given Lady Adolphine a hairpin to celebrate her graduation, though he hadn’t placed the order personally. As I understood it, he had gotten her to do everything in his place. It was one thing to place the order together or to ask the woman about her tastes in advance, but what had driven him to act in a way that would invariably displease her? I thought his approach was outright disrespectful.

Lady Nahelache pondered the remark. “In the case of Prince Sigiswald, maybe—no one would expect him to travel all the way to Ehrenfest for a hairpin—but Lord Ferdinand is a member of the duchy’s archducal family. Furthermore, I would not expect an Ahrensbach archduke candidate to go to that much trouble for accessories. Am I wrong?”

“As you might remember, Lady Nahelache, their engagement was made by royal decree. I am certain that Lady Detlinde visited Ehrenfest for the purpose of her engagement ceremony.”

I could feel the tension between Lady Adolphine and my brother’s wife Lady Nahelache; one continued to criticize Sigiswald while the other spoke in defense of her husband. Mother and the others held their tongues, but it was clear from their troubled smiles that it wouldn’t be ideal for their relationship to get even worse.

“As I understand it, Lady Detlinde wore her hair ornaments as she saw fit,” Eglantine intervened. “She refused to trust Ehrenfest’s sense of style or even heed its advice—Lady Rozemyne told me as much when she gave me this latest hairpin of mine. A bizarre choice, when they are so beautiful... Don’t you agree, Anastasius?”

She gave me a smile while touching her newest hairpin. It suited her perfectly. If she wanted me to help defend Ehrenfest, then it was my duty to accept.

Rozemyne has done plenty to help us. I should return the favor.

“Indeed,” I said, “Ehrenfest prepared five schentis hairpins that varied in size and color. The intention was to give Lady Detlinde more choice—to let her pick and choose accessories to suit the occasion. I found it rather interesting.”

“Is that so?” Lady Magdalena asked. “That would make her decision rather...” She fell silent, though I could tell she had wanted to say “foolish.”

“As a fellow man, I must express my sympathy for Ferdinand, who is bound to that woman by a royal decree. She might only be an interim aub, but her behavior is shameful for the next ruler of a greater duchy.”

“That is enough, Anastasius,” my mother began. She was going to lecture me about criticizing the royal decree, so I masterfully changed the subject.

“I am less interested in the Goddess of Chaos’s attire and more curious about the magic circle that appeared when she fell. It wasn’t something I’d ever seen before. Mother, Father, do you know what it might have meant?” The circle had caused quite a commotion in the auditorium, but nobody had gone to the trouble of researching it.

Father, who had remained silent until this point, shook his head. “No, I was not aware of such a circle lying dormant on the whirling stage. It must have been important, though—its size alone made that clear.”

If not even my father, the Zent, had recognized the magic circle, then I doubted anyone else here would. He looked to the scholars, but none of them had any answers—not one of them requested permission to speak.

“Zent Trauerqual,” came a sudden announcement, “the Sovereign temple has requested a meeting. They claim to have valuable information about the magic circle that arose today and wish to speak with you before the public is informed.”

A stir ran through the dining hall. The royal family was on poor terms with the Sovereign temple—its members asserted that one could not be the Zent without the Grutrissheit and so refused to acknowledge my father as the king. They begrudgingly cooperated with us on budgetary and other concerns but took every opportunity to remind us we weren’t qualified to rule.

Incidentally, it had come to light during last year’s bible inspection with Rozemyne that Relichion, the Sovereign High Bishop, couldn’t read even half of the text they valued so dearly. He had interpreted that exposure as a slight against his pitiful mana, and our relationship with him had continued to deteriorate from there.

To make matters worse, Immanuel, the Sovereign High Priest, had taken a keen interest in Rozemyne and her ability to form divine instruments at will. He wished to pluck her from Ehrenfest’s temple and instate her as the new Sovereign High Bishop—which was why Relichion, vehemently against losing his post, now saw her as a troublesome pest. When we had asked to use the shrine for the Royal Academy’s Dedication Ritual, he had immediately refused with more than a few harsh words. Immanuel, in contrast, had agreed to lend us not only the shrine but also the temple’s divine instruments as a means of currying favor with Rozemyne.

The Sovereign priests had interrupted a gathering of royalty—during lunch, no less—and requested entry to our dining hall. This did not bode well.

Father thought for a moment, then gave a resigned nod. “Very well... I shall meet with them. It seems unnecessary to invite them here, however; I shall go to them.”

“Father,” Sigiswald said with a grimace, “I see no reason to interrupt your lunch for the sake of the Sovereign priests.”

Father’s wives and retainers voiced their agreement.

“Prince Sigiswald is correct—they have not scheduled a meeting with you, so there is no need to go to such trouble.”

“Their request is far too inconsiderate. No matter how urgent their business might be, could it not wait until after lunch?”

“Sovereign priests or not, the matter at hand is far too important to ignore,” Father said. “Sigiswald, if you are so strongly opposed to missing the end of lunch, then you need not come with me. Anastasius, let us go.”

Father stood, and the entire room went quiet. I’d risen to my feet as soon as he called my name, and a moment later, Sigiswald rose as well.

“I would much rather come with you,” he said. Then, in a voice that oozed frustration, “I simply considered it rude of the priests to request a meeting during lunch.”

“Hmm...” Father nodded to himself as he led the way. “You must learn to be more adaptable. In times of urgency, one cannot be mired in etiquette.”

With our retainers in tow, we proceeded down the deathly silent corridors of the central building. They were empty apart from the occasional Sovereign knight; everyone else had returned to their dormitory for lunch.

“Father, not one of your wives seemed too pleased about this...” Sigiswald remarked.

“They cannot attend a meeting with those of the Sovereign temple,” he retorted. “It would put the priests in too much danger.”

Father never allowed his wives to attend meetings with the Sovereign temple. From what I understood, they had trembled in outrage when they last witnessed the priests belittle him for not having the Grutrissheit. He seemed most concerned about Lady Magdalena of Dunkelfelger; though I’d only ever seen her wearing fancy clothes and ornaments, she was said to be an especially lethal warrior.

“One must make thorough preparations with the Knight’s Order before angering them. Remember that well.”

We soon reached the waiting room that our visitors from the Sovereign temple were using. Sovereign knights were stationed outside as if wary of what they might do. We stepped inside to find both Relichion and Immanuel, sitting tall with proud expressions.

“We appreciate your quickness to cooperate,” Relichion said. “Though we recognize how rude it was to request a meeting during lunch, we thought it best to inform you at once.” He made no attempt to hide his condescension—it was more obvious than ever.

I took the seat offered to me, on guard against what he might say next.

“You all saw today’s miracle, I assume,” Relichion began, gesturing dramatically with a victorious look on his face. “All witnessed the magic circle that arose on the whirling stage, and—”

“It was a circle for choosing the next Zent,” Immanuel said, interrupting the High Bishop’s ostentatious speech to state the facts as they knew them. “In short, one could say that Lady Detlinde is closer than anyone else to becoming the next Zent.”

Relichion glared at him and, with renewed vigor, attempted to resume his speech. Father cut him short this time.

“Apologies, but I seek only the relevant details. Immanuel, if you would continue.”

“But of course,” Immanuel replied. “Your ignorance of the circle’s existence—and the fact you cannot make it appear—further proves you are not suited to rule. We predict that Lady Detlinde of Ahrensbach will soon obtain the Grutrissheit and formally succeed you as a true Zent.”

“How dare you?!” Father’s retainers boomed, outraged that priests, of all people, would dare to insult their lord. “We could have your heads!”

Immanuel and Relichion both curled their mouths into grins, unfazed. “We mean no disrespect,” said the former. “We speak only the truth.”

“Lacking the Grutrissheit as he does, Lord Trauerqual will not be able to keep his throne for much longer,” added the latter. “After all...”

“You cretins...” Loyalitat spat, stepping forward with his schtappe drawn.

“Halt,” Father said. “Your seething is unsightly. We should celebrate the chance of the Grutrissheit returning to Yurgenschmidt.”

“Oh...?” Relichion gave him a look of surprise. “Does that mean you will relinquish the throne if Lady Detlinde acquires the Grutrissheit?”

Father’s retainers inhaled, awaiting his response. He sighed, and stared directly at the two Sovereign priests.

“Yes, I will.”

Everyone else focused on Father, but I turned my attention to Sigiswald. Though one might not guess it from his enduring calm, he was obsessed with taking the throne—hence his previous determination to court Eglantine. If not for my agreeing to become a vassal, he would never have given up on her.

“I have no attachment to the throne,” Father continued. “If she does acquire the true Grutrissheit, then I shall step down so that she can take over as Zent.”

Sigiswald squinted ever so slightly. Anger and objection stirred in his dark-green eyes, too ferocious to remain hidden.

“However,” Father said, “speak not a word of the magic circle’s purpose before then. Releasing such information to the public would cause nothing but chaos.”

Indeed, if word spread that Detlinde could obtain the Grutrissheit, any number of people could try to harm or obstruct her. Even those who pinned their hopes on her could turn violent if she ultimately let them down. Yurgenschmidt would risk entering another age of war, this time over a Grutrissheit that did not even exist. Father conveyed the dangers to the Sovereign priests to emphasize his point, then stood up and took his leave.

“It is inconceivable that Ahrensbach’s archduke candidate could obtain the Grutrissheit and become the next Zent,” came voices of complaint as soon as we were outside the room.

Indeed, this wasn’t a claim we could take at face value. Not one of us wanted to believe that someone as embarrassing as Detlinde was actually on track to become the Zent. Still, we could not ignore the magic circle that had appeared. It was bound to be important for Yurgenschmidt.

“For years, we have devoted our all to keeping Yurgenschmidt alive,” Sigiswald said. “If anyone, the Grutrissheit should go to us. Can you imagine what dark future would await our country if Lady Detlinde took charge?”

Father’s older retainers, who understood exactly how much their charge had endured, agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

“Could this, too, be part of Lord Ferdinand’s scheme?” Raublut interjected. It was such a brazen leap of logic that I furrowed my brow on instinct, but Sigiswald wished to know more.

“Raublut, elaborate,” he said.

“Since his expulsion from Ehrenfest, Lord Ferdinand has found it much harder to puppeteer Lady Rozemyne. Perhaps he has pivoted to Lady Detlinde instead.”

“I see... That sounds consistent with the facts.”

I wasn’t sure what Sigiswald meant, but several of Father’s retainers responded with nods. The knights weren’t the only ones agreeing with Raublut, as sycophants might—the scholars and attendants were too.

“He might have originally intended for Lady Rozemyne to activate the circle. I remember Lady Eglantine reporting that Lady Rozemyne was able to make feystones shine during their whirling practice.”

“Then he might have resorted to using Lady Detlinde instead. She collapsed, but only because she had so little time to practice. Lady Rozemyne has at least three years of experience to her name, so she would almost certainly have been better suited to the task.”

“Hmm... Lady Detlinde is graduating this year. Perhaps this was the only chance Lord Ferdinand had to reach the stage.”

I couldn’t fathom why everyone had so quickly accepted the proposal that Ferdinand was to blame for all this. Was that simply how it appeared to those who knew nothing but the reports from the Royal Academy? They all seemed convinced, but I couldn’t shake the unease that had come over me.

“The moment Lord Ferdinand moved to Ahrensbach, Lady Rozemyne ceased visiting the library almost entirely. Then his new fiancée activated that bizarre magic circle. It cannot be merely a coincidence.”

“Lady Rozemyne stopped visiting the library because Sigiswald forbade her from going to the underground archive,” I said, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “She was also instructed not to supply its magic tools with mana while the new archlibrarian works to become their master, and that isn’t even taking into account how busy she must be overseeing her joint research with greater duchies.”

My words must have fallen on deaf ears, for Father’s retainers continued to assure each other that Ferdinand was devising some grand scheme. Seeing even my brother nod along with them made me wonder whether I was in the wrong for thinking none of this made sense.

“That he would continue to plot even from Ahrensbach proves how dangerous Lord Ferdinand must be,” one of the scholars concluded. “We should investigate him further.”

“Calm yourselves,” Father said, exasperated. “As I made clear, the return of the Grutrissheit would be a joyous day for Yurgenschmidt. The country cannot be ruled properly in its absence. As long as it comes back, it does not matter who obtains it.”

A shudder ran down my spine. What in the world was he saying? Father had sent Ferdinand to Ahrensbach on the grounds that if someone from Ehrenfest obtained the Grutrissheit, the losing duchies would come together and attempt to overturn the status quo, making a peaceful exchange of power impossible.

Does he now intend to bring civil war back to Yurgenschmidt?!

I wanted to protest, but Sigiswald spoke before I could.

“In that case, when Raublut insisted that Lord Ferdinand was a branch royal targeting the Grutrissheit, why was your response to relocate the latter to Ahrensbach? Was it not because you considered him a threat?”

“Yes, that was my logic. I thought it best to avoid chaos in the transition of power,” Father said. “Now that he has moved, however, the entire situation has changed. Ahrensbach is a greater duchy that supported me during the civil war; in contrast to Ehrenfest, we will not lack support there, and the transition of power should occur with relative ease. Though I do hope he acquires the Grutrissheit while Aub Ahrensbach is healthy. Lady Detlinde might only be an interim aub, but Lord Ferdinand will cease being able to become the Zent once she takes charge.”

Father hoped the pair would marry while the aub was in good health and that either Ferdinand or Detlinde would then obtain the Grutrissheit. They would establish themselves as the new royal couple and rule Yurgenschmidt, leaving Letizia and Hildebrand to run Ahrensbach as its archducal couple once they came of age. It was a plan that none of us had anticipated—presumably not even Ferdinand, on whom it all depended.

As desirable as that outcome must have been to Father, nobody else would wish for such a future. His retainers looked troubled, and Sigiswald was completely unconvinced.

“Do not look so grim,” Father told them. “This all depends on them actually obtaining the Grutrissheit. The odds are surely stacked against them; my elder brothers spilled blood in their frenzied search, and not even they were able to find it.”

So he said, but an unknown circle had appeared, and the Sovereign temple now claimed that Detlinde was a Zent candidate. As things stood, it would not be strange for someone unexpected to obtain the Grutrissheit under equally unexpected circumstances.

“If you do not consider it so simple, then I would advise not repeating that you intend to cede the throne when reporting the details of our meeting to your wives,” Sigiswald cautioned. “They would go berserk over the Sovereign temple’s rudeness.”

Father raised an eyebrow. “Hmm... A terrifying thought, indeed. To all of you here now: speak not a word of this to anyone. That is an order.” He gazed upon his retainers, grinning slyly. Then he stopped and turned, looking in the direction of the waiting room. “There is no guarantee that what the priests told us was correct. You should save your speculation for after you have investigated the truth of their claims.”

“Certainly. This testimony came from a High Bishop who cannot read even half of his own bible. The magic circle may serve another purpose entirely.”

“Though we cannot determine that ourselves...”

“Perhaps we could ask Rozemyne,” I said. “As we saw during the Royal Academy’s Dedication Ritual, Ehrenfest’s High Bishop knows a great deal about religious ceremonies. She seems able to read most—if not all—of the bible, unlike those of the Sovereign temple. She also cooperates with the royal family... with the exception of some occasional impudence.”

Rozemyne provided only somewhat attentive answers when faced with books or the library, and the advice she gave to royals could at times be openly impertinent. Still, she held no malice for our family.

Father crossed his arms in thought. “I would rather not involve a student of another duchy in our problems, but we need information as promptly as we can get it. Hmm... My apologies, but could you ask Eglantine to summon her? I must go to the auditorium.”

“The auditorium?”

“I wish to see the stage with my own eyes. We should rule out foul play, should we not? Sigiswald, Anastasius, I must borrow your scholars.”

Before we could get a word in edgewise, Father took our scholars and sped toward the auditorium.

“And so, he leaves the task of reporting to his wives to us,” I said. “They must already be on edge, waiting to be told of the Sovereign temple’s rudeness.”

Our hands tied, we started our unenthusiastic trip back to the dining hall.

“Eglantine will need an explanation as well,” Sigiswald noted. “I entrust that duty to you, Anastasius.”

“It should fall to you to speak with Father’s wives. I must escort Eglantine back to our villa.”

“Your retainers can do that.”

“I refuse to have anyone else escort her. Not to mention, if we do not act soon, those of Ehrenfest will start preparing for the graduation ceremony.”

As we fought over who would explain the situation to Father’s wives, Sigiswald took out a sound-blocker. “Anastasius, what do you think about the theory that Ferdinand is behind all this?” he asked.

There was little I could say about Ferdinand as a person—the two of us had never really spoken—but I sincerely doubted the claim that Ehrenfest was trying to produce the next Zent. Their behavior during the Interduchy Tournament yesterday told me their hands were full enough from internal politics. They did not even have a good relationship with the losing duchies. I saw no reason they would attempt to bring them together to seize Yurgenschmidt.

“What do you think, Brother?” I asked in turn.

“He seems very suspicious to me. I thought that marrying him into Ahrensbach would erase his chances of starting another civil war to obtain the throne... but Father is ready to step down, and Ferdinand surely schemed to activate that circle. I wonder if there is more to this situation than we know.”

Only a select few people had been present when Ferdinand was given his royal decree. Sigiswald and I were both excluded.

“Raublut attended as a guard knight,” my brother continued. “I suspect he knows far more than we do and that he has good cause to be so suspicious of Ferdinand.”

“So it seems abrupt to me but not the others because Father’s retainers know more than we do?” I crossed my arms in thought. As busy as Ehrenfest seemed, I could not guess what Ferdinand was thinking now that he was in Ahrensbach.

“Father insists that everything will change once Ferdinand formally becomes a citizen of Ahrensbach. And yet, the man’s marriage has yet to happen, and we now have reason to assume he was behind the activation of the stage’s magic circle. There might be more to this than we understand, and it could cause further incidents before his Starbind Ceremony. Should we not consider eliminating him before then?”

As much as I still thought my brother was overthinking the matter, I did not have any critical evidence that would warrant brushing aside his concerns. Still, “eliminating” Ferdinand sounded far too extreme to me.

“On what grounds? Detlinde activated the magic circle, and she is the one whom the Sovereign priests proclaim to be the next Zent. For now, would it not make more sense to investigate him?”

How were things faring in Ahrensbach? How strong was his relationship with Detlinde? How was he seen by the people of Ehrenfest? How did he think? What were his priorities? Did he truly wish to become the Zent? There were plenty of questions we still needed answers to.

“Ah, that reminds me,” Sigiswald said, “Raublut asked for the key to some villa or another as part of his investigation into Ferdinand. Father refused, insisting that the matter was concluded, but... perhaps I shall give it to him.”

A sigh of relief escaped me. If nothing else, I had redirected my brother’s focus from eliminating Ferdinand to simply looking into him.