I wonder how they ended up like this. Like, ouch... Adolphine said they weren’t even a couple.
As much as I wanted to find out, this was a matter between their houses. It seemed rude of me to pry. I gazed up from my Book of Mestionora to address them.
“Lady Adolphine—according to my research, the traditional means of divorce should still work for you. Please note, however, that you will find it harder to obtain the supreme gods’ blessings.” A normal prayer would earn them only half as many blessings as usual.
“I thank you ever so much for your time, Lady Rozemyne. Your insight is most useful.”
Adolphine knew the supreme gods would grant her less favor if she divorced the first prince, but that didn’t change the resolve in her amber eyes. She got Eglantine and Trauerqual to promise they would set up a meeting with Drewanchel to discuss the matter. It was admirable, really.
“A name stone should take no more than three days to complete,” Ferdinand said, returning our focus to Eglantine. “Thus, I would advise holding the transference ceremony and your debut as a Zent four days from now. Like other rituals, they can begin at third bell.”
“Four days from now?!” Eglantine cried. Her shock was a little unwarranted, if you asked me; four days was plenty of time. In fact, coming from Ferdinand, it could even be considered generous.
“Name stones are trivial to make,” I said, “and procuring the ingredients should not be a problem for a royal. The prayer and method to regenerate gathering spots were taught during the last Archduke Conference, so you need not even worry about scarcity. Two days would be more than enough time.”
Ferdinand nodded in agreement. “Two days was my original plan, but you would not be ready for the ceremonies. Especially as you need to practice your whirling.”
“Aah, I get it now...” I muttered. “Three or four days of practice wouldn’t have been enough when people are comparing me to Lady Eglantine. But even then...”
Though I was finally able to whirl without falling over, I still occasionally wavered. Having to keep up with Eglantine, of all people, was going to be tough. I tried asking for more time to practice, but Ferdinand refused.
“You will need to make do,” he said. “If we are not careful, we will not make it back to Ahrensbach in time for Spring Prayer. This year’s harvest will catastrophically fail.”
“Oh, right... But what about our clothes?”
Ferdinand cocked an eyebrow at me like I’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Lady Eglantine has her clothes from her coming-of-age and Starbinding. And as your role is to present her with the Grutrissheit, you can wear your ceremonial High Bishop robes.”
I was okay with that; I was used to wearing them, and we wouldn’t need to worry about them being ready in time. Lieseleta and the others could fetch them from Ahrensbach for me.
“Lady Eglantine,” Ferdinand said, “please wear feystone shoes for your whirling. The pillar of light will not form without mana.”
“Should I wear some too?” I asked.
“There is enough divine mana spilling out of you that the material of your shoes will not matter. Do as you please.”
Huh? Am I leaking that much mana?
It hadn’t even occurred to me, but there must have been a lot. My current state was so abnormal that even pillars of light would form on their own.
“To provide extra support, Hartmut shall participate as the High Priest,” Ferdinand continued. “Shall we let the royal family borrow him from tomorrow until the day of the ceremonies so he can educate Prince Anastasius?”
“Hold on!” Sylvester yelped. “You plan to have Hartmut educate Prince Anastasius?!” That meant putting an Ehrenfest archnoble above a member of royalty.
Ferdinand glanced at his brother, then at Anastasius. “Hartmut knows more about religious ceremonies than anyone else we can spare.”
“Is your knowledge not superior?” Anastasius asked. He probably thought it would be easier to learn from an archduke candidate than an archnoble from another duchy, but Ferdinand shot down the idea at once.
“It is, but I do not have time to teach you; I must instruct the nobles of Ahrensbach in Rozemyne’s stead. If you are displeased with needing Hartmut’s assistance or think you can prepare the transference ceremony at such short notice without him, I will not object. You can make do with those of the Sovereign temple.”
According to Ferdinand, the Sovereign High Bishop was basically on the verge of death. His blue priests wouldn’t be of much use to the second prince when the temple was in such a sorry state, making Hartmut’s assistance crucial.
Ferdinand put the royals in his debt while simultaneously blocking their escape route. How evil...
Still, I couldn’t just sit here in silence; he was lending the royals one of my retainers.
“Prince Anastasius—if you want Hartmut for the next four days, I will need to charge the royal family for his services.”
Sylvester and the others were stunned, but I refused to budge. Not even the Lord of Evil could suppress my merchant spirit.
“On another note,” I said, “I promised Lady Hannelore that I would invite her to watch me hand over the Grutrissheit. Aub Dunkelfelger, be sure to bring her with you to the ceremonies.”
“As you wish,” the aub replied.
I was prepared to move on, but Trauerqual raised a hand in search of permission to speak. “Lady Rozemyne. I have a suggestion.”
“Yes?”
“Could we invite all the archduke candidates currently enrolled at the Academy? This seems like a perfect opportunity for those closest to becoming the next generation’s Zent to learn the importance of religious ceremonies and the Grutrissheit’s divinity.”
Going forward, students would need to pray to the gods and work to acquire as many elements as they could. Trauerqual thought that a demonstration of the path to the throne would play a crucial role in reforming the country’s temples.
Sylvester contemplated the idea, then nodded. “I agree with King Trauerqual. However, I propose that we invite all baptized archduke candidates, even those who are still too young to attend the Academy. I imagine Melchior, the current High Bishop in Ehrenfest, would also appreciate the chance to see Rozemyne’s ceremonies.”
A gentle smile spread across my face. I would need to put my all into serving as a good example for Melchior.
“Given that brooches and such will need to be prepared for those who have yet to enroll, we can let the aubs of each duchy decide whether they wish to bring their seven-, eight-, and nine-year-olds,” I said. “I should note, however, that I think children have much to gain from experiencing religious ceremonies at a young age.”
“And what will you do if problems arise because of children that young participating?” Ferdinand asked me with his usual glare.
I shrugged. “Back in Ehrenfest, recently baptized apprentice blues watched our ceremonies without issue. I see no reason to worry about well-bred archduke candidates. Even if something does happen, the blame will rest with the parents. The aubs get to decide who participates, after all.”
A misbehaving child spoke to a poor education, so the aubs would only bring those they could trust not to shame them. In short, there was basically zero risk of us encountering any issues.
“As far as rituals go,” I said, “the transference ceremony is irregular—not like the yearly Starbinding and such. It will serve no purpose for future generations who obtain their own Books of Mestionora. Because it should never need to be repeated, I see nothing wrong with letting the younger children participate just this once.”
Ferdinand rapped a finger on his temple. “I wonder... Did you only make this grand, admirable gesture because you want to impress your younger siblings?”
Well spotted, Ferdinand. Guess I can’t pull the wool over your eyes.
Once we’d agreed to let all the baptized archduke candidates participate, we went over the details of the ceremonies before bringing our meeting to a close.