Before sitting down, I’d made eye contact with Ferdinand. He had reached out to help me only to have his hands callously smacked away. It was so awkward that I didn’t know how to react.
“Um, Ferdinand... Are your hands okay? I, er...”
“Heilschmerz did away with any aches I might have been feeling. There is no need to get upset so soon after your retainers calmed you down.”
Ferdinand took my hand from Clarissa’s before gesturing for my retainers to step back as he sat me back down. I stared intently at his face to make sure he really was alright; knowing him, he would claim to be fine even if my divine mana was still wearing him down.
“There is no need to fret,” Ferdinand assured me. “Now that you have your cloak, there is no chance of your mana hurting anyone.”
I grabbed the silver cloth and squeezed it tight. “I should have worn it from the start, then...”
Ferdinand exchanged a bemused glance with Sylvester. “Silver cloth invariably makes one think of the Lanzenavians, so wearing it when you first arrived at the meeting might have given the wrong impression. Now that everyone has experienced the power of your divine mana, however, not a single person will tell you to remove it.”
That might be true, but did you have to resort to something so drastic?
There must have been a solution that didn’t involve an entire room of people getting hurt. Ferdinand and Sylvester seemed to disagree, though.
“That reminds me,” Ferdinand continued. “Rozemyne, hold out your hands. If you feel you are about to lose control of your divine mana again, use this.”
“Did you plan countermeasures other than the silver cloth?”
Ferdinand gave me a sound-blocker and a white box. I went to open the latter to see what was inside, but it sucked out my mana and started turning into a white cocoon. I’d seen this happen enough times to know what I was looking at: it was a name stone.
“F-Ferdinand, what’s the meaning of this?” I asked.
“I need a way to reach you in the case of an emergency.”
“Maybe so, but you can just call others like Sylvester did, or—”
“Quiet,” Ferdinand said, pinching my cheek.
I pursed my lips. “Name-swearing isn’t meant to be done as some kind of... of... surprise attack. It’s supposed to be, like, a super important ceremony. Should you not understand its significance, considering how many have given their names to you?”
Several of my retainers had given their names to me, and not a single one of them had taken the decision lightly. Ferdinand must have known that much, especially when Eckhart and the others in his retinue were so loyal to him. Giving me his name purely out of convenience—I saw no reason to believe he wanted me to have it—was like stomping on the sanctity of the vow. The more I thought about it, the sadder it made me.
“Keep it until the divinity fades from your mana,” Ferdinand said. “That is all I ask.”
“Still, using it as a tool is just...”
“Again, it will only be until your divinity fades. If you dislike it that much, then you can use the stone to order me to take it back.”
“I don’t want a master-servant relationship with someone who’s basically family to me...”
Drawing that line had caused drastic changes in my relationships with Philine and Damuel. The relaxed air between us had vanished along with any hope I had of becoming their friends. I didn’t even want to think about the same thing happening with Ferdinand. And above all else, I didn’t want to give him orders after seeing how bitter he was about the royal family messing him around.
“Give up for now,” Ferdinand said obstinately. “You started it by exploiting name-swearing to save my life. It will not be for long, in any case.”
He took the sound-blocker back from me and returned to his seat. It had been an emergency, but I couldn’t exactly deny that I’d taken his name to begin with. I squeezed his name stone and sighed.
“Now then, is everyone ready to continue?” Ferdinand asked once we had sipped our tea and dismissed our attendants. Sigiswald had declared that he was willing to become the Zent, so we picked up our discussion with whether he was a valid candidate.
“Does this mean Sigiswald will take the throne?” Trauerqual asked. He and Ralfrieda, his first wife, looked at Ferdinand with extreme concern. “That sounds, um...”
“If nobody else wants to volunteer, then yes. We want a royal to become the next Zent and shape Yurgenschmidt as the gods desire. If we have a viable candidate, we shall give them the crown.”
Sigiswald nodded. “I am the obvious choice, as the entire country already recognizes me as its future king. You may rest assured, Father—I shall take over as the Zent and save Yurgenschmidt.” He wore his usual calm smile, though I couldn’t quite understand why he was acting so proud. The role would require him to dismantle his own family’s rule.
“In that case,” I said, “to ensure you faithfully carry out the will of the gods, we must have you swear an oath to the Goddess of Light and Gebordnung the Goddess of Order. Using contract magic, of course.”
“Contract magic...?”
“Indeed. We cannot risk our new Zent ignoring the gods or postponing their demands indefinitely when my divine mana fades. Having them forge a binding agreement with the gods is the obvious solution.”
The prince’s contract wouldn’t be with me. Instead, he would make a vow to the gods—one much stricter than any sort of agreement between humans. There wouldn’t be any loopholes to exploit, and any violations would be met with divine judgment.
Sigiswald went pale. Was he afraid of contract magic or just shocked that he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of us the moment he came into power?
“Oho...” Aub Dunkelfelger smiled wryly. “Anyone who agrees to carry out the gods’ demands should expect to enter a contract with them.”
“Indeed,” his wife agreed. “Perhaps the new Zent could address the country’s aubs and outline his plans for Yurgenschmidt’s future before he obtains his Grutrissheit. To ensure the duchies know what is expected of them.”
And with that, the magic contract was set in stone.
Sigiswald balled his hands into tight fists atop the table. If he agreed to make a vow to the gods, our discussion could move on to the newly christened transference ceremony. From there, we would outline how the other royals would be treated, how the currently deposed duchies would be divided, and so on.
There’s still much to be decided...
As I wondered what we would deliberate first, Ferdinand suddenly stood up. “Prince Sigiswald, as I am sure you now understand, the next Zent will need to endure a tremendous amount of pressure when they stand atop the altar and receive the Grutrissheit from the Divine Avatar of Mestionora. If you wish to take the throne, then I must ask that you give your name to Rozemyne. Doing so will nullify the impact of her divine mana on you.”
The first prince blinked. It certainly would be problematic if the new Zent collapsed midway through receiving his Grutrissheit, unable to bear my accidental Crushing.
That said... I really don’t like using name-swearing for this kind of thing. This is exactly what Grandfather warned me about.
“Me, give my name?” Sigiswald asked, grimacing in disbelief. “Do you genuinely expect the new Zent to accept subservience to someone soon to become the next Aub Ahrensbach? The very idea is unthinkable.”
The prince was speaking for his own sake, but he was completely right. Expecting the Zent to give his name to a mere aub was absurd. Still, Ferdinand declared that he could not trust the royal family unless they agreed.
I’m fine with them just signing a contract with the gods, but... whatever.
Trauerqual suddenly raised a hand, a bitter expression on his face.
“Yes, King Trauerqual?” I asked.
“Lady Rozemyne, my deepest apologies for the disturbance I am about to cause.” He rose from his seat, then bound the first prince with bands of light.
✦ ✦ ✦
