Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume Short Story-2 - Chapter 4

Brunhilde — As the Daughter of Giebe Groschel

Description: A bonus short story for Part 4 Volume 5 set during Rozemyne’s trip to Groschel. Brunhilde receives a warning that Groschel’s branch of the printing industry could fail. As the daughter of the province’s giebe, she feels duty bound to see it succeed, but Rozemyne’s mindset is too hard to comprehend. Only through a conversation with Hartmut and Elvira does she come to better understand her lady’s way of thinking.

Author’s Note: Brunhilde, Hartmut, and Elvira are all purebred nobles, but the environments in which they were raised impact them in unique ways. I put a lot of thought into the defining attributes of Groschel—and many other particulars—when writing this insight into noble society.

“Lady Brunhilde, these are Lady Rozemyne’s guest chambers,” an attendant informed me.

“Thank you. I shall prepare them for her while she is performing her ceremonies. Please bring the luggage as soon as you can.”

It was the latter end of autumn, and we had recently arrived in my home province of Groschel. My first task was to ensure the attendants of my family estate had not erred when preparing these chambers. Then, I would unpack Lady Rozemyne’s daily necessities.

“Welcome home, Sister,” said a bright voice.

I turned to see Bertilde, my little sister, moving briskly toward me, her rose-pink hair swaying behind her with each step. She had come here in a hurry to see me—the warm smile on the attendant’s face made that clear.

“Do allow me to assist you,” Bertilde said. “In the meantime, would you tell me tales of the Royal Academy? I wish to share them in the winter playroom.”

In particular, my sister wanted stories that would grant her conversational dominance in the playroom. She was rather precocious, due in part to her constant endeavor to mimic me. It was adorable, for the most part, though I wished she would take more care; it frustrated me to see her take on even my less admirable traits.

“Though I admire your enthusiasm—one cannot overstate the importance of gathering information—you should not state your objective so clearly. Take care not to make such missteps when conversing with anyone else.”

“My apologies,” she said. “We have little time together, so I thought to speak bluntly.”

Time really was of the essence, so we got straight to work preparing the guest chambers. Meanwhile, I spoke of my experience serving as Lady Rozemyne’s apprentice attendant at the Royal Academy. I’d touched on it briefly at the end of spring, but living in the castle meant I rarely had the time to speak leisurely.

“It is when you are anxious or hurried that you must exude elegance the most,” I said. “Keep that in mind for after I graduate, when you will take over as Lady Rozemyne’s retainer and work to spread her trends. Did you ask Lady Elvira to train you?”

“Yes, and your efforts this year were rewarded. Lady Elvira welcomed the idea, stating that I should inherit your methods and serve Lady Rozemyne as an archnoble so that tea parties with top-ranking duchies and royalty continue to go smoothly.”

She must have heard that from Cornelius, though I was still glad to know my deeds had received such high praise. I thought back to my time at the Academy and giggled.

“Serving as Lady Rozemyne’s attendant is quite the task,” I confessed. “Abrupt summons from the royal family are within the realm of reason, as are meetings with top-ranking duchies one has never spoken to before.” It was unthinkable, considering our duchy’s former rank and its previously modest connections.

“Prince Anastasius, in particular, tends to make sudden demands,” I continued. “Rihyarda went pale as a sheet trying to come up with ways to survive them—though she hid those concerns from Lady Rozemyne, of course.”

Lady Rozemyne had shared in our surprise, though on a considerably smaller scale. As a first-year, she had no knowledge of how the Academy had used to be, and she seemed to have assumed that its current state was the norm. Her misunderstanding made it even more essential that we attendants hide our anxieties, lest we burden our lady with undue pressure.

Bertilde’s amber eyes—a mirror of my own—sparkled as I spoke. I recounted how my heart had nearly stopped when Lady Rozemyne received an invitation from the royal family and explained that her chefs had since been instructed to have two kinds of pound cake ready at all times—a precaution in case she was summoned again.

“One of pound cake’s greatest strengths is that it keeps for several days,” I said. “This saves the chefs from having to make it daily—though ensuring that everything is ready at all times is still no easy feat.”

I went on to note that pound cake had surprised even greater duchies. Bertilde was especially delighted when I repeated my lady’s intention to create even more kinds of desserts; she was a great lover of all sweet-tasting foods.

“I doubt Lady Rozemyne will receive any such summons this year, as Prince Anastasius has graduated and no new royals debuted during the Archduke Conference, but still...”

As our conversation continued, I placed the tools of an apprentice scholar on the desk so that it was ready to be used. I also put together a tea cart, ensuring that Lady Rozemyne could enjoy her preferred drink at a moment’s notice, and checked that its magic tools were functional. From there, I started retrieving rinsham, soap, and other such products from a nearby box.

“This blend of rinsham smells of rafels,” I said. “It was introduced just recently by the Gilberta Company. Lady Rozemyne recommended it to me, so I’ve taken to using it.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping to spread the aroma. Bertilde brought her face closer, inhaled, and then gazed up at me with an enraptured expression.

“What a delightful scent,” she crowed. “You must be the envy of the Noble’s Quarter to have such easy access to new rinsham. Which is to say... might I have some?”

“I arranged for shipments to arrive at our winter estate when you go to the Noble’s Quarter. You will have the great fortune of attending the playroom with a delightful hairpin and while wearing the most enchanting scents.”

Lady Rozemyne had paid for hairpins to be made for all of the female students. I’d used the opportunity to order one for Bertilde, whom I rarely saw due to serving in Lady Rozemyne’s chambers in the castle. A broad smile spread across my sister’s face when I mentioned the hairpin; I was glad to see that she appreciated it.

“That aside,” I said, “has the cloth I chose during the dyeing event arrived yet?”

“Yes, it has. Due to your selection and detailed report, we succeeded in incorporating the style into our accessories. As it stands, we are making shawls, lapels, and ribbons with it. I’m told there wasn’t enough time or cloth to prepare an entire winter outfit.”

Because the dyeing event had taken place in the castle, few nobles living in the provinces had known about it. Trends frequently began in the Noble’s Quarter and spread from there, but I’d chosen this cloth personally and ordered those managing our winter estate to send it home for me.

“Father was overjoyed when the cloth and letter arrived,” Bertilde said. “Ever since you became Lady Rozemyne’s retainer, he has enjoyed a crystal clear image of the Noble’s Quarter and its trends.”

“Goodness. It was the least I could do. I mean, I am the next Giebe Groschel.”

“How reliable! Sister, I shall strive to support you as much as I can.”

We smiled at each other, sent word that we had finished preparing the guest chambers, and then headed to Mother’s room to ask about the dinner menu. The lady of the house had chambers on the first floor, meaning she could easily instruct the servants when we had visitors.

“Mother, Lady Rozemyne’s room has been prepared,” I said.

“Excellent work, both of you,” she replied. “Now, Brunhilde... there is something important we must speak about. May I request a moment of your time before Lady Rozemyne returns?”

“Certainly. Run along now, Bertilde.”

Until my lady came back, there wouldn’t be any more attendant work for me to complete. I sent Bertilde out of the room and turned to face my mother. Something must have happened, for she seemed a little bit weary.

“The second wife now carries a child,” she announced. “If she gives birth to a boy, then he will most likely become the next Giebe Groschel instead of you.”

The ground seemed to crumble beneath me, and my vision blurred as if someone had just spun me around. Men were at an overwhelming advantage when it came to inheriting land. Mother must have had strong opinions on the matter. Maybe that was why she came across as so exhausted.

“I wonder... what will the future hold for us if she does have a boy?” Mother asked, her tone worried.

I drew my eyebrows into a frown. If such an outcome came to pass, then the second wife would start to be prioritized, and my mother’s position would grow increasingly unstable. Mother would remain in this estate no matter what happened, but her future depended on whether I became the next giebe.

“No good will come of worrying about a baby who has yet to even be born,” I said at last. “Even if the second wife does produce a son, that does not necessarily mean my claim to being successor will change.”

“Are you sure?” Mother asked, cocking her head at me. She had good reason to be skeptical, but I refused to give up so soon. Giebes held a great deal more influence than common archnobles. I’d embraced that fact during the recent dyeing event, where, for the first time, I’d assisted in creating new trends rather than merely helping to spread them.

“As you and Father both know, I brought the printing industry to Groschel as Lady Rozemyne’s retainer, and I play a crucial role in propagating her trends. During my time at the Academy, I even developed the skills necessary to socialize with royalty and greater duchies. Father understands this, surely. By marrying someone powerful and obtaining the support of the future aub’s first wife, I can overcome the gender barrier with ease.”

Unless this potential rival serves Lord Wilfried and achieves equally impressive feats, that is.

I elected to hold my tongue, not wanting to exacerbate my mother’s concerns. The aub obviously had more power than the first wife. As it stood, Father would never allow a son of his to serve Lord Wilfried, but such sentiments could easily change over the span of a decade.

Mother examined me closely before letting out a small, relieved sigh. We had reached the end of our serious conversation, I thought—but then her expression took a severe turn.

“If securing Lady Rozemyne’s support is the goal, then why not marry Lord Hartmut?”

“Out of the question,” I said at once, loath to even consider such a terrifying idea. “He would surely refuse. It simply isn’t worth thinking about for the moment.”

“Oh my. But he has an excellent reputation as an apprentice scholar, and Lady Rozemyne holds him in high regard, does she not? He is a Leisegang and the third son of an archnoble—not a successor—and as you both serve the same lady, I trust you know him better than most.”

“It is because I know him so well that I am sure it will not work. Hartmut enjoys nothing more than serving Lady Rozemyne; he would rather remain in her retinue than support Giebe Groschel or even rule a province. More than that, however, I would rather take someone normal as my husband.”

On the surface, Hartmut was the perfect choice, but his every wonderful trait was smothered by his unbearable obsession with Lady Rozemyne. I doubted any woman in the world would want to marry someone whose eyes were set squarely on someone else. Ottilie had given up hope, lamenting that his status was his only allure, and seemed to have come to terms with the fact that he might never take a wife at all.

“Hartmut’s elder brother—or any other archnoble, for that matter—would make for a vastly superior choice,” I said, “not to mention the wealth of excellent men beyond our borders. Considering how quickly Lady Rozemyne has been securing new connections, we can expect to be increasingly involved with top-ranking duchies. I would rather find a husband from there.”

If my lady remained in Ehrenfest as its first wife, the Leisegangs wouldn’t ostracize a groom from another duchy. I suspected that, as the printing industry expanded, they would actually come to value relations with other duchies.

“Do you really consider that the best move?” Mother asked at length. “Strengthening our bloodline would put me more at ease.”

I could sympathize with her concern—she was insulated from how much the Royal Academy had changed. But as Lady Rozemyne’s retainer, I could sense the new Ehrenfest that was on the horizon.

“As long as I am alive, Mother, I will not allow you to be isolated in your own home. I shall do everything I can to ensure that you and Bertilde have bright futures. In return, I ask only that you give up on marrying Hartmut into our family.”

After dinner that evening, we were informed of two opinions about our province’s printing industry. I did not know why Lady Rozemyne prioritized the thoughts of commoners over those of noble scholars, but I was determined to find out. Unless I cleared up my confusion, everything would fall apart.

I posed my question to Lady Rozemyne while she was getting ready for bed, but her response was largely unhelpful. One thing was clear to me, though—the printing industry in Groschel was on track to fail, and Lady Rozemyne was resigned to that fact.

“Good night,” I said, then exited the room.

“All done?” asked a voice. For some strange reason, Hartmut was waiting in the corridor. “Let’s have a chat.”

My expression hardened. Mother must have had something to do with this. Now was no time for frivolous matchmaking; I needed to speak with Father about the printing industry.

“Hartmut, I—”

“It’s about Lady Rozemyne and the printing industry. You still can’t grasp her logic, I assume.”

“Are you implying that you can?”

“I gathered as much information from the temple as I could precisely for that reason,” Hartmut explained. “Let’s go to Lady Elvira’s room. She’s made time for us.” He had already made the arrangements, it seemed—a sign that he knew I would never refuse. His knowledge of both our lady and the printing industry was superior to my own.

“You are so perfect in your preparations,” I said. “In truth, I find it a tad irritating.”

“Perfect? No, far from it.” Hartmut frowned and shook his head as though remembering some past blunder. He inhaled slowly, then started toward Lady Elvira’s guest room; I went with him.

“To start with,” Hartmut said, “one cannot lump the Gutenbergs in with the rest of the commoners.”

“Excuse me?”

“They are Lady Rozemyne’s arms and legs. She values their reports as much as we value those from our family and trusted attendants.”

“Surely you jest...” I would trust a report from my family more than one from a random scholar. The thought of a noble placing that much faith in commoners was absurd to me.

“I understand your confusion better than you think. I made the same mistake at first.”

“You erred as well, Hartmut?” I asked. It was comforting to hear that even a scholar with his perfect reputation—a man whom Lady Rozemyne trusted so utterly—had struggled to wrap his head around the circumstances.

“I still remember my first time sitting in on a meeting with the lower-city merchants in the temple,” he said. Their crude speech, general rudeness, and outrageous demands had upset him to the point of chastising them.

“Is it not natural to warn commoners when they overstep?” I asked.

“That was my thought. They were using Lady Rozemyne’s compassion to speak impudently, and merely listening to them struck me with displeasure. But when I spoke out against them, Lady Rozemyne scolded me. She was so outraged that her eyes changed colors slightly, and though it shames me to admit it, I was so enraptured by her Crushing that a shiver ran down my spine.”

“Enough, Hartmut. I am not interested in your infatuation. Tell me only the objective reality of what Lady Rozemyne said to you.”

Hartmut shut his mouth, unamused, and then continued in a more level tone. “She told me not to interfere, as she had called the merchants there specifically to hear their honest opinions, and threatened to ban archscholars and retainers from all future meetings if I dared to interrupt them again. She was even more furious than during the Traugott incident, and a chill ran through me as I feared she might relieve me of duty.”

Traugott’s rudeness had known no bounds, yet Lady Rozemyne had seemed more outraged about the interruption during her meeting. Hartmut wore a wry smile as he conveyed this to me, but it was no laughing matter.

“Despite my being an archnoble, it became painfully obvious that Lady Rozemyne considered the lower-city merchants’ opinions more important than my own,” Hartmut continued. “One cannot earn her approval by serving her as one would any other member of the archducal family.”

“She prioritized the lower-city merchants over you...?” It was hard to believe, but Hartmut had attended those meetings and gone to the lower city with her; he had to be speaking the truth.

“Lady Rozemyne was raised in the temple, and she still spends more time there as the High Bishop than she does in the castle. She’s been advancing matters from her own perspective with a fairly weak grasp on noble society. In other words, she’s just proceeding in the way that makes sense to her.”

“Then we must teach her our ways.” Surely that was our duty as her retainers.

Hartmut thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Are you going to advise Lady Rozemyne to prioritize nobles over commoners? That will never work. As important as it is for her to learn our ways, her knowledge of the printing industry is unmatched. She is ahead of the curve, and we would do well to respect her position.”

“‘Ahead of the curve’ in what sense, exactly?”

“The printing industry was founded through honest, detailed conversations between Lady Rozemyne and the Gutenbergs. No good can come from forcing them to change their ways. It would work about as well as trying to pour one’s mana into another person’s feystone.”

Having made his point—that we should stick with Lady Rozemyne’s methods if we wanted the printing industry to succeed—Hartmut knocked on the door to Lady Elvira’s room.

“I was told you wish to discuss something important about the printing industry?”

Hartmut began to explain the circumstances. I chimed in every now and again with details from my earlier conversation with Lady Rozemyne.

“My lady said that Groschel operates differently from other provinces and that this would lead to the collapse of our printing industry. Do you know what she meant by that?” I thought Lady Elvira might also have had a hard time keeping up with Lady Rozemyne, but she nodded at once as though the conclusion were obvious.

“Indeed. Groschel could not be more different from Haldenzel.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Consider how distant the giebe and nobles are from the commoners. Do you recall that when Lady Rozemyne arrived, she asked Giebe Groschel where the province held its religious ceremonies? I was surprised to learn that he could not answer. In Haldenzel, the giebe personally directs Spring Prayer and the Harvest Festival.”

For my sake, Lady Elvira went on to explain how such ceremonies were performed in Haldenzel. Nobles and commoners would come together to sing, dance, and express their gratitude to the gods for the year’s harvest. A gathering of that kind would never happen in Groschel.

“You must reconsider how land-owning nobles should act,” Lady Elvira continued. “It is a giebe’s duty to navigate the strengths and weaknesses of their province while guiding and protecting its commoners. Is that being done here in Groschel?”

In an instant, I was overcome with shame. My entire body burned with embarrassment. The nobles of Groschel prided themselves on having a more distinct “Noble’s Quarter” than any other province in the duchy. We distanced ourselves from commoners as much as we could.

“Groschel was built for Lady Gabriele, and the customs from those days have endured ever since,” Lady Elvira explained. “It is rather ironic that despite the Leisegangs’ hatred of both her and Lady Veronica, Groschel continues to follow their wishes by striving to be as close to the Noble’s Quarter as it can. A cold air hangs over this province, and it could very well result in the death of its printing industry.”

Lady Elvira’s warning echoed in my mind. She asserted that Lady Gabriele’s philosophy had completely dyed Groschel and that the province’s capacity to change would decide the success of its printing industry. I was at a complete loss for words.

“If your people—no, if you, Brunhilde—wish for the printing industry to succeed, then heed the precedents of success and follow in their footsteps. How can you ever grow if you cleave stubbornly to your ways and ignore the methods that led others to triumph? You need a change of attitude. The very act of trying to grow is important.”

“Groschel will need to... change its entire perspective?” I asked, flushing with fear at the thought of what I was being asked to do. Was transforming the attitudes of my fellow nobles and encouraging them to mimic Lady Rozemyne’s relationship with commoners even achievable? It was beyond me, at the very least.

Lady Elvira must have seen me recoil; she placed a contemplative hand on her cheek and gave me a reassuring smile that reached her dark eyes.

“Embracing change is easier than you think,” she assured me. “You are a testament to that, if Cornelius’s reports are to be believed. Your common sense was largely useless when serving Rozemyne at the Royal Academy, was it not? Yet you still strove to adapt to her methods.”

I thought back to my time at the Academy. As I’d said to Bertilde, each day had come with its own surprises. In her desperation to start visiting the library, Lady Rozemyne had declared that everyone would pass each of their classes the first time around. She had then attended a library tea party, received an abrupt summons from the royal family, and passed out at a truly inopportune moment. Unprecedented events had waited around every corner, and each time one reared its head, I agonized over how best to proceed.

“The printing industry demands the same approach,” Lady Elvira said. “You can accept change or obstinately reject it. The choice rests with Groschel.”

I could see the path ahead of me branch into two. Still, receiving such high praise for my treatment of all the incidents at the Royal Academy made my world feel so much brighter.

“It was your giebe, not the commoners, who decided to bring the printing industry to Groschel,” Lady Elvira continued. “And yet, the commoners are obeying his orders and developing the industry as per the Gutenbergs’ teachings. Nothing has failed; there is simply room for improvement.”

Hartmut nodded in agreement. “You seem to think all is lost, Brunhilde, but even Haldenzel faced problems when it started producing letter types. Its success came from how quickly it responded to them. There are plenty of solutions, be it using magic tools to clean the water, moving the workshop someplace else, or even just finding a way to make dirty water work.”

My two advisors assured me that these decisions rested with Giebe Groschel. If we had solutions to our problems and some considerate hands to guide us, then I wished to do my bit and embrace the changes we needed. I could not expect my lady to accept foreign wisdom unless I did the same.

“As the next Giebe Groschel, I wish to put my father on the right path,” I said, my eyes brimming with resolve. “Lady Elvira, Hartmut—my apologies, but can you accompany me tomorrow after breakfast?”

They both gave reassuring nods.

“But of course.”

“If your printing industry collapses, it will be to the detriment of Lady Rozemyne’s wishes. I cannot allow that to happen, so I shall devote my all to your cause.”

I appreciate Hartmut’s enthusiasm, but I wish he wouldn’t.

Speaking my mind was out of the question, so I responded with a small smile.