“Though this burden might be too great for Prince Sigiswald to bear, someone from the royal family must become the Zent for you all to be spared the Ivory Tower,” Ferdinand said. “Knowing that, do you stand by this decision?”
Trauerqual paused in thought. He gazed down at the bound prince, at his wife and other children, and then slowly knelt. “Even now that my mind has been cleansed—in fact, now more than ever—I sincerely believe that only someone who has obtained the Grutrissheit under their own power deserves to be the Zent. You ascended the altar and disappeared with the Divine Avatar of Mestionora... Do you not have it, Lord Ferdinand?”
“Father, what are you saying?!”
The king’s use of a title, coupled with his kneeling before Ferdinand, stirred all those present. The royals looked between the pair, while Aub Dunkelfelger and his wife watched Ferdinand closely to gauge his reaction.
As expected, even Dunkelfelger suspects Ferdinand of having the Book of Mestionora.
“King Trauerqual, does that mean you would not mind the entire royal family being locked up?” Ferdinand asked calmly instead of answering the question.
Anastasius stood up with a clatter, his face pale as could be. “Please stop, Father! You are the Zent! You needn’t kneel before anyone but the divine avatar!”
“A true Zent must wield a Grutrissheit.”
“Rozemyne will give us one! I want you to have it and continue your reign—I already asked as much of them. You have done more to keep this country together than any other person alive, so how could anyone else be better suited to the role?”
Anastasius tried to pull Trauerqual to his feet, but the king merely shook his head. I watched their emotional exchange for a moment, then sighed and cast my eyes on Ferdinand.
Congratulations. It went exactly as you expected.
It was almost like watching a play I’d already read the script for. I couldn’t help feeling bad for Trauerqual, but Ferdinand didn’t intend to be honest with him.
“King Trauerqual...” he said, “if you will forgive my rudeness, there is a serious misunderstanding at play here. The requirement for ascending the altar is not having the Grutrissheit but having divine protections from all of the primary gods.”
“That is correct,” Eglantine announced, drawing all eyes to herself. Nobody had expected her to interject. “I, too, climbed the altar after performing the divine protections ritual in class. I was taken to the white plaza where I obtained my schtappe, but there was nothing of note there. And of course, I do not have the Grutrissheit.”
“The requirements are being omni-elemental and obtaining the divine protection of each primary god,” I added, since Eglantine had stolen my line of the script.
The king’s eyes widened. Being able to ascend the shrine wasn’t proof of having the Grutrissheit. Hearing it from Eglantine had done more to convince him than anything I might have said.
“But even so, Lord Ferdinand—”
“Indeed,” Eglantine said. “He pointed us toward the Grutrissheit in the first place, so he either has it or stopped just before obtaining it.”
The pair looked at Ferdinand. I could tell from their eyes that they both wanted to know whether he had the Grutrissheit, but there were nuances to their expressions. Eglantine seemed curious, whereas Trauerqual was outright desperate.
“Prince Sigiswald truly is your son,” Ferdinand told the king, staring down at him contemptuously. “The likeness is uncanny.”
Everyone’s expressions changed, mostly for the worse. Nobody would interpret such words as praise when Trauerqual had just moments ago described his son’s behavior as “unbearably foolish and painful to witness.”
Magdalena’s sharp red eyes bore holes in Ferdinand. “In what ways do you think the two resemble one another?”
“Hmm. To begin with, their tendency to forget everything inconvenient to them and use their royal authority to make demands of others. Prince Sigiswald learned it from his father, I suspect. But that is not all. I see now that you fell victim to the Goddess of Chaos’s curse, Lady Magdalena.”
Having dismissed Magdalena as someone blinded by love, Ferdinand sneered at Trauerqual. “You seem to have forgotten this, so allow me to repeat it: I do not desire a rebellion, nor do I wish to become the Zent. Was that not clear when I agreed to marry into Ahrensbach? Or was that year and a half spent slaving away with my life on the line for nothing?”
Sylvester’s hands tightened into fists. So intense was his anger that he would probably have lunged at Trauerqual if he could.
“I determined that to be the best decision at the time,” Trauerqual forced out.
“You determined it best to essentially banish him to another duchy?” Sylvester finally snapped. “And now you want to force him to take the throne because you think he has the Grutrissheit, despite having zero evidence to reinforce that claim. How can you honestly believe he should not only restore Ahrensbach but also clean up the mess your family made? It is far too early to accept a visit from Schlaftraum.”
Sylvester had essentially said, “If you’re going to spew nonsense, don’t speak at all.” My knowledge of euphemisms had come in handy once again. Seeing him confront the king of all people—and with a broad smile on his face—made it abundantly clear that he was Ferdinand’s older brother.
Still, I didn’t realize King Trauerqual also had a tendency to forget whatever he found inconvenient.
Sylvester and the king were engaged in an aggressive staring contest. The former wanted to stop the royals from exploiting Ferdinand any longer, whereas the latter wanted to do what was best for Yurgenschmidt, no matter the personal cost.
A gentle voice interrupted their tense exchange.
“Lord Ferdinand—may we proceed with the understanding, then, that you have no intention of obtaining the Grutrissheit or becoming the Zent? You do not plan to accept the king’s proposal, do you?”
It was Eglantine. She wore a pleasant smile and sat with a hand resting quizzically on her cheek, but her bright orange eyes were deadly serious.
Ferdinand met her gaze and nodded. “The Divine Avatar of Mestionora gave us two options: a member of the royal family can become the Zent to answer the gods’ needs, or Aub Dunkelfelger can take the throne. No matter what King Trauerqual says, I was never in the picture.”
“Thank you ever so much for your answer. I understand your position clearly.”
Even then, Trauerqual remained unconvinced. He repeated that someone who had obtained the Grutrissheit on their own deserved to take the throne, but Ferdinand remained completely silent.
“Um, King Trauerqual,” I said as he continued to plead. “I do not think you are wrong to want a Zent who obtained the Grutrissheit through their own power. We intend to spread the means of obtaining the Book of Mestionora so that future Zents can be chosen from those who successfully acquire it. However, for us to reach that point, I need someone in the royal family to take the reins for just one more generation.”
I focused my attention on Adolphine, Eglantine, and Magdalena. Two of them had only recently married into the royal family, and the third rarely had a chance to socialize due to being a third wife. I didn’t think any of them had committed crimes that would warrant them spending the rest of their lives in an ivory tower.
“In all senses,” I concluded, “the changes we seek to implement are more likely to be accepted if we introduce them gradually rather than all at once. The greater a change, the more resistance it will inspire.”
“Not a single noble will complain if the Zent has the Grutrissheit,” Trauerqual said.
I shook my head; he only thought that because he had spent a decade being relentlessly labeled a false king. “You have deified the Grutrissheit to an unreasonable degree. Even a Zent who has one or their own Book of Mestionora will not be immune from criticism. Humans will always find reasons to be upset; their capacity for suffering has no bounds. I want there to be as little friction and as few disputes as can be, but the transition will never be perfectly smooth. History has made that more than apparent.”
I turned my head, having felt an intense glare midway through my speech. Eglantine was staring right at me.
“Yes?” I asked.
She lowered her eyes, then directed them at Trauerqual. I could sense her determination.
“The Grutrissheit is absolutely necessary for Yurgenschmidt’s future,” she said. “To that end, I once thought it essential that we adopt Lady Rozemyne into our family and engage her to Prince Sigiswald—so she could obtain the Grutrissheit and give it to us without issue.”
Anastasius wouldn’t have agreed to marry me; he had given up on the throne specifically for Eglantine. And trying to wed me to Hildebrand would most likely have caused another war.
“However,” she continued, “as a result of the recent incident, Lady Rozemyne can now grant the royal family the Grutrissheit as the Divine Avatar of Mestionora. We have no need to adopt her or marry her to Prince Sigiswald. King Trauerqual—this is your chance to obtain the Grutrissheit without causing any disputes. Should you not take it?”
Anastasius gazed optimistically at Trauerqual. As did the king’s wives and Adolphine, who had married into the royal family. Trauerqual, however, obstinately shook his head.
“My stance will not change,” he said. “The throne must go to someone who has obtained the Grutrissheit under their own power. I should not remain the Zent any longer.”
“I see,” Eglantine replied. “Then I understand your position as well.” She encouraged the king to return to his seat, then shot me a look of resolve. “Lady Rozemyne, I wish to take the throne. I shall give you my name and make the necessary vow to the gods. In return, I ask to be given the Grutrissheit.”
“Eglantine...” Anastasius muttered, staring at his wife in a daze.
“I cannot let the country descend into another war,” she said with a smile. “Though I admit, it would have been ideal for Prince Sigiswald to receive the Grutrissheit. As the heir apparent, he was best suited to implement slow and gradual change.”
Eglantine had wanted Sigiswald to wield the Grutrissheit and revive the old methods, paving the way for a worthy successor to take his place, while the rest of the royals devoted themselves to serving as aubs. But alas, the first prince had been deemed unsuitable for the role.
She continued, “Though his reign would most likely have been shorter than the first prince’s and thus a greater cause for concern, had the king desired the Grutrissheit, I would have considered it a suitable reward for his years of anguish.”
Despite not having a Grutrissheit, Trauerqual had fought as best he could to keep the country alive. Eglantine said she would have supported him if only he had striven to serve Yurgenschmidt as a proper Zent and change the country as per the gods’ wishes.