Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume Short Story-2 - Chapter 8

Florencia — Completing The Story of Fernestine

Description: An unpublished short story from the online collection, set after Ferdinand’s engagement is announced in Part 4 Volume 8. Elvira wails and curses the royal decree, prompting Rozemyne to advise her to channel her emotions into something creative. Florencia watches over the newly founded Make Ferdinand Happy Squad to ensure their enthusiasm doesn’t go overboard.

Author’s Note: It was late at night when the idea for this story struck me, but I couldn’t resist the urge to start writing it. Looking back, the intensity of my enthusiasm was almost a little concerning. I wanted to support Florencia in her endeavors to restrain Elvira’s own passionate writing.

“No way. I will not take a second wife,” Sylvester declared. “You don’t want me to either, right, Florencia?”

“This is not a decision to be made based on personal preferences. An aub needs multiple partners, so I shall respond to yours as any duchy’s first wife should.”

I consoled my husband as he threw yet another tantrum over his wish not to take a second wife. In our current situation, it was crucial to think carefully about which duchy Ehrenfest needed to strengthen its bond with most.

Under normal circumstances, I would have turned to Elvira for her valuable input, but the unfortunate situation with Lord Ferdinand had thrown her into a rare state of emotional disarray. The same went for all of her close friends. They spent their tea parties in tears and continued to weep as they bemoaned what hardships Lord Ferdinand must be going through. I thought it best not to ask for their advice until they calmed down.

As for what that “unfortunate situation” was, a royal decree had demanded that Lord Ferdinand marry Lady Detlinde, who bore the features of the woman who had tortured him. It was tragic, of course, but he could have avoided it by speaking with Sylvester first. Instead, he had accepted the order thrust upon him and declared that his moving to Ahrensbach was the best outcome for Ehrenfest. Fussing and complaining would neither change things nor serve him to any degree.

“Do you have any ideas, Rozemyne?” I asked. I thought she might attest that this was what Lord Ferdinand wanted, but she seemed to interpret my question in another fashion.

“Forcing down one’s intense, raging emotions will only lead to trouble. Instead, why not channel them—your anger, sorrow, and regrets—into the act of creation?”

“Um... My apologies, but... what do you mean by that, exactly?”

“We could write a story based on Lord Ferdinand. There, if nowhere else, we could give him the happiness he deserves.”

I was stunned, unable to think of a response, but Elvira immediately spun around. “Give him happiness... within a story?”

“That is correct,” Rozemyne said. “Use pen and paper to guide him to a better future, Mother. Having an outlet for your emotions should soothe you well.”

Elvira blinked her dark eyes and looked over her gathered friends. They returned resolute nods of approval, begetting what Rozemyne would dub the Make Ferdinand Happy Squad.

Once our meeting was over, Rozemyne returned to the temple with her retainers. Lord Ferdinand was resigning as the High Priest, and the sudden handover had given her plenty to take care of.

In truth, Rozemyne wasn’t the only one with a lot on her plate; we needed to prepare farewell presents for Lord Ferdinand, inform each giebe of the upcoming change, and delegate his work to those who would remain in Ehrenfest. In the meantime, I’d taken to sitting in on tea parties to keep a keen eye on the Make Ferdinand Happy Squad.

Her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, Elvira wrote out tragedy after tragedy. “By our hands, the world shall understand Lord Ferdinand’s misfortune!”

I could not help but sigh. A story too openly critical of the newest royal decree would only land our duchy in hot water—not that anyone here was in the right mind to care.

How can I encourage them to make the story more discreet?

I paused in thought before airing my solution: “As much as I support conveying his misfortunes to others, consider what might happen if people learn the truth. The story could be confiscated.”

“Very true,” Elvira said. “We cannot allow a repeat of the tragedy of the harspiel concert to occur!”

“Quite,” her entourage agreed. “I could not bear to taste such bitter despair again. Nobody must know that we are writing about Lord Ferdinand.”

Upon learning that we had sold artwork depicting him during his harspiel concert, Lord Ferdinand had banned us from ever making art of him again. Elvira’s and the others’ cries still rang in my ears. I sensed the entire squad unite in their mutual goal to never let such a thing happen again.

“But how can we keep the true identity of our protagonist hidden?”

“Changing the name will do nothing if we still write about a tragic archduke candidate from Ehrenfest being forced by royal decree into an engagement with a greater duchy.”

A relieved sigh escaped me as everyone focused on obscuring the inspiration for their story.

“A man being made by royal decree to marry into another duchy is rather rare, now that I think about it.”

Indeed, it was more common for women to marry into other duchies than men. A groom being ordered about in such a manner was rare enough that anyone in the current climate would put two and two together. Determining which parts of the story to change to complete our trickery was no simple matter.

“What if the decree came from an aub, not the king?” I asked.

“Lady Florencia, that would do nothing to convey the heartless cruelty of a royal decree.”

“Indeed, I must object. It might also paint Aub Ehrenfest in a poor light.”

“Certainly...”

I conceded rather quickly. As the others had said, we could not risk our work impacting Sylvester’s reputation.

“If our aim is to be discreet, then why not have a woman marry into the duchy...?” somebody whispered. I did not catch who, but Elvira immediately looked up with a start.

“That’s it!”

“What is, Lady Elvira?”

“We shall write as though Lord Ferdinand were a woman! Nobody should piece together the truth then!”

A fresh wave of confusion rendered me speechless. If we changed the sex of our protagonist, I thought, our story would cease to be about Lord Ferdinand. I thought the others might agree with me, but a quick look around revealed that I was alone in my opinion; everyone else seemed quite taken with the idea.

“How wondrous! Not a soul would make the connection!”

“Not to mention, we are sure to win our readers’ empathy. Many of our country’s nobles were moved into other families before being baptized and endured great hardships growing up as a result.”

“Granting her happiness at the end will inspire those in unfortunate circumstances to have hope.”

I suspected that Elvira and the others turning Lord Ferdinand into a woman would only bring him greater misfortune, though I elected not to say anything.

Our most important goals are masking his identity and concealing anything that might be seen as critical of the royal family. I should welcome any alterations that turn this into a completely separate story.

“And we absolutely must include romance at the Royal Academy!” one of the women cried. “Such tender moments are precisely what the young noblewomen who read Lady Elvira’s stories want!”

“That reminds me—does anyone else remember the rumors of Lord Ferdinand getting close with a princess at the Academy? Perhaps we could include a love story with a prince.”

“Excellent! We shall make her a woman so bright, beautiful, and bold that a prince would naturally fall in love with her! But because she lacks a mother, the prince’s family shall reject the pairing!”

Amid giddy cries of glee, the protagonist’s relationship with the prince was settled. It was good to see everyone smiling again—and with such a major change to the plot, no one would assume it was actually about Lord Ferdinand.

“The prince will plead with the king for the royal decree to be taken back until, at long last, he succeeds. He and our protagonist shall win the romance they so desire.”

“Wait... I feel as though I’ve heard this tale before.”

“Yes, because it mirrors the situation with Prince Anastasius and Lady Eglantine. Let us use them as our inspiration. That will make readers even less likely to think about Lord Ferdinand.”

Elvira’s group seemed satisfied with their general outline of the plot and the pleasant conclusion they had devised for its main character. From there, they considered the details, wondering whether their gender swap should also apply to Sylvester’s equivalent and the protagonist’s retainers.

“Now, what should we name our main character?” Elvira asked. “We’ve changed enough of the story that we can preserve the connection here, no? I fear that I won’t be emotionally invested otherwise, which would completely forestall my writing.”

Everyone fell into deep thought. Several ideas were put forward until they finally settled on “Fernestine,” an oh-so-clever mix of “Ferdinand” and “Eglantine.” Sylvester’s equivalent would remain the protagonist’s paternal half-brother and protect Fernestine from his mother, both out of consideration for me and to add excitement to the opening acts, which were otherwise lacking in romance.

It speaks to Elvira’s dedication that she changed even her own son into a female knight for the sake of this story. I shall accept her consideration with gusto.

“Now, let us consider which of Lord Ferdinand’s many legends to work into our tale.”

The resulting manuscript was passed to Bertilde, an apprentice attendant currently training under Elvira, and printed in Groschel. Haldenzel printed only in the winter, and Lord Ferdinand had too many eyes in the temple.

Elvira’s story ended up being so long that, much like Dunkelfelger’s history books, it had to be divided into volumes. The first covered the protagonist’s baptism as an archduke candidate, her abuse at the hand of her stepmother, her going to the Royal Academy with her half-brother’s protection, and her falling in love with the prince.

Rozemyne saw the completed book before going to the Academy and stared at it, stunned. “Mother, the protagonist might be a woman, but isn’t this a story about Ferdinand...?”

She and Sylvester had noticed at once, but only because they were so close with Lord Ferdinand. As only those in his inner circle could see the connection, it ended up being a rather well-made tale that was harmless to most but poignant to those in the know.

“Oh my... This is but a work of fiction, Rozemyne. Names, characters, businesses, and events are all the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”

I can only hope Lord Ferdinand finds that convincing.