“Now, let us discuss my library city.”
“Did you not just claim to be exhausted?” Ferdinand retorted. “We should avoid any subjects that might tire you further.”
“The salted fish Ella hurried to prepare has revitalized me. Besides, did you not promise we would discuss this tonight? I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
Ferdinand touched my forehead and wrists to inspect my health, then begrudgingly sat back down and produced sound-blockers. “Your ideas were Venezia and Alexandria, correct? Both have relatively normal pronunciations for someone with your naming sense. Where did they come from? Your world of dreams, I assume?”
“‘Relatively’? That’s a rude way to put it.”
“As I recall, when we were deciding on your noble name, not a single one of your suggestions made sense.”
I averted my eyes out of spite. In preparation for my noble persona, I’d proposed several names that I could use instead of “Myne.” I’d put so much thought into them, trying to come up with something that encapsulated my reappearing stronger than ever before, only for Ferdinand to tell me they were all unusable. The conversation stood out clearly in my mind...
But not the circumstances surrounding it.
There must be more to this. In fact, what drove me to become a noble in the first place?
Delia, Dirk, Count Bindewald, Bezewanst—faces from the temple arose in my mind. I remembered someone protecting me but not the first thing about them. The gaps in my memory caused an uncomfortable tickle in my chest.
Why did I join the temple? Oh, right. To read the bible and gain access to the book room.
Even my recollection of the events leading up to my entering the temple was full of gaps. At most, I remembered desperately seeking books after being reborn into a world without any.
“Rozemyne?”
Ferdinand’s voice brought me back to my senses. I could dig through my memories later. It probably wasn’t smart to think about something so anxiety-inducing while I was still under the influence of divine mana.
“The names,” I said. “Right. Alexandria was an ancient city. It had its own massive library replete with gardens and gathered reading material from all around the world. You could say it was exactly what I aim to achieve. Venezia, meanwhile, was a merchant city that had more bookstores than anywhere else once Gutenberg helped proliferate the printing industry. I want my new duchy to have just as many books, with trade bringing in more by the day.”
Ferdinand thought for a moment, then said with some trepidation, “I would not recommend Venezia. It sounds too much like a word used in Lanzenave. Even if we claimed it was taken from another language in the world of the gods, it would surely be misunderstood in ways that would trouble us.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.” I supposed that the English name, “Venice,” was also an option, but it didn’t sit right with me on a mystical aesthetic level. “Are we going with Alexandria, then?”
“Alexandria... Hmm... I would rather the name indicate some manner of connection to Ehrenfest, to make it easily apparent that an Ehrenfest archduke candidate claimed the foundation.”
My first thought was “Ehrendria,” but I quickly dismissed it. The name sounded more like a strange food product than anything else.
Consider that a lesson for you, Rozemyne! Don’t arbitrarily combine two words!
“I must insist on Alexandria,” I said. “The original city had gardens full of rare specimens, an abundance of research documents, and received travelers from all over. It perfectly suits a duchy being built around your lab, my library, and the Gutenbergs’ printing.”
Ferdinand sighed, having seen right through my desperate scramble to justify the name. “You sought my opinion yet appear to have already reached a verdict. Very well. You claimed the duchy to begin with, so I shall accept whatever name you desire—assuming it is not outrageously offensive.”
“I thank you ever so much. Let us start planning the construction of Alexandria.”
A slight frown creased Ferdinand’s brow. “You seem more attached to your previous world than usual...”
“Because of my lost memories, I’d assume. The most I remember about my days as a commoner are dipping my toes in merchantry and spending time in the temple. My thoughts of the past are mostly from when I was Urano and reading was more important to me than absolutely anything else.”
My days as Myne were a blur, but my memories since becoming Rozemyne seemed mostly untouched. If, as Ferdinand claimed, Mestionora had severed my memories of everyone and everything I cared about more than books, then I must have treasured a lot from when I was a commoner. My hairpin craftsperson and dyer were apparently included, but what did that mean? Who had they been to me?
“Well, it isn’t impacting my day-to-day life, at least.”
Ferdinand shook his head. “There have been many occasions today when you have said or done things I would never have expected from you, likely because your core memories have been removed. This is sure to cause problems in the future.”
I was compelled to ask for examples but couldn’t get the words out. The last thing I wanted was for Ferdinand to turn around and start rejecting me. Instead, I smiled and changed the subject.
“There’s no point dwelling on it now, is there? We can’t make any headway on my lost memories until we’ve rid me of this divine power. On a more important note, what should the new duchy’s color be? In the past, it matched the divine color of the country gate, so maybe we should go with something close to black.” Pure black was still associated with the royals, so it would probably be best to avoid that.
Ferdinand eyed me carefully. “If we plan to take that approach, we should advise the Sovereignty to change its color to white in accordance with its move to the Royal Academy. Zents historically wore white, in case you were unaware.”
“If we announce that, we’ll need to wear white ourselves.” It had once been the norm for Zent candidates to dress in white after obtaining their Books of Mestionora so that Ewigeliebe wouldn’t attack them. Zents and aubs had worn the same color, which explained why High Bishop robes were also white.
Again, Ferdinand shook his head. “If we adhere fully to the old ways, then that rule will apply only to you. Lady Eglantine did not obtain her Book of Mestionora, and mine is being kept hidden from the public.”
“I see... I’d much rather it apply to the whole Sovereignty.” If nobody else in Yurgenschmidt wore white, I would feel like an outcast. I just wanted to set up my library city and then read with all my friends.
“If you would rather your duchy’s color be only close to black, then why not use the color of your hair?” Ferdinand asked. “You have the same dusky locks as Mestionora, whose flowing tresses had the blessing of the God of Darkness. I can think of no better color for her avatar.” He reached out and stroked my hair as though it were the most natural thing in the world, then regretfully added, “But alas, no longer would the hue stand out against your clothes.”
Wait... Has he always been the kind of person to just reach out and touch someone’s hair?
“Is something the matter, Rozemyne?”
“No, nothing. If my hair and clothes blend together, that’s fine with me. In a world where all nobles must wear their duchy’s color, such problems are inevitable.” Truth be told, I couldn’t have been less invested.
Ferdinand didn’t respond. He brushed a few errant strands out of my eyes.
“As for the crest,” I continued, “I wish to use Lessy.”
Ferdinand pulled away at once, his arm recoiling like a snake. “Absolutely not. Future generations of Aub Alexandria will need to use your crest; I shall not doom them to bear gruns on their chests for the sake of your strange tastes. If you would rather not tie your duchy to Ehrenfest through its name, then at least inherit its lions. Or use shumils in honor of those library magic tools.”
I’d thought a red panda would suit my duchy better than anything else, but Ferdinand disagreed. He’d rejected the idea so forcefully—and moved so quickly on to proposing alternatives—that I already knew he wasn’t going to budge on the matter.
“You told me before that shumils are too weak to be used in a duchy’s crest.”
“Yes, the ones found in the wild. The magic tools, on the other hand, are exceptionally strong. You need only add feystones to their foreheads to make the distinction clear.”
Given his firm stance before, I’d never expected such an abrupt one-eighty. “Do you really hate Lessy that much?!”
“You are not the only one who would need to wear that wretched grun. If you are insistent, ask the opinion of any of your retainers. Not one of them will support you.”
I put the sound-blocker aside and turned to Laurenz and Eckhart, who were standing nearby as our guards. Lieseleta and some of the others who had finished eating came over to see what I wanted.
“Attention, everyone!” I called out. “Between my Pandabus and the library’s shumils, what would you rather see on Alexandria’s crest?”
They all exchanged looks, then answered in unison: “The library’s shumils.”
“The idea sounds delightful,” Lieseleta added.
“Perhaps, but Ferdinand once said that a crest should show its duchy’s strength,” I retorted.
Gretia smiled. “According to Judithe, the scythe-wielding magic tool was remarkably strong. Perhaps we could add a scythe to the crest.”
Please, no!
“I would much rather give them books!” I cried.
“An excellent idea, Lady Rozemyne,” Laurenz said, clapping his hands together with a bright smile. “That sounds like the perfect crest for your library city!”