“This is Laurenz. The light reached this branch and continued to spread out. I guess Ehrenfest’s border gate is next. It’s an impressive sight. Some people are saying they feel bad that Old Werkestock won’t be included in the spell.”
Gretia scrunched up her face. She understood the Ahrensbach nobles’ compassion for Old Werkestock, but had they forgotten about its involvement in the recent invasion? As far as she was concerned, Rozemyne was under no obligation to help such people.
And even if she did, they would probably find a way to resent her for it.
Gretia recalled the information she and the other retainers had exchanged prior to their meeting with the royal family. Ferdinand had asked them for their thoughts on absorbing Ahrensbach’s portion of Old Werkestock into Alexandria. His retainers from Ahrensbach had supported the idea, arguing that they had more family in Old Werkestock than a decade ago and that it was best to expand one’s territory when the opportunity arose, but everyone from Ehrenfest had opposed it.
There is absolutely no need for Lady Rozemyne to risk her life restoring the land of her enemies.
A frown creased Gretia’s brow as she watched the magic circle, which could now be seen without needing to press one’s face against the window. She saw the beauty in a spell that would restore the entire duchy at once, but the circle’s enormity made her breath catch. It was hard to believe Rozemyne was creating it all on her own, and the thought that it was shaving down her life was terrifying. Gretia turned nervously to the door leading to the foundation’s hall.
Another ordonnanz perched on her arm.
“This is Matthias. The light arrived without issue. It really is awe-inspiring. I almost want to throw my arms up like Hartmut and pray to Lady Rozemyne.”
Then why hold back?
Rozemyne’s divine mana had inspired a change in her retainers. They were even more loyal to her than before and often struck with the compulsion to kneel before their lady. Cornelius had said it was like her name-sworn had all turned into Hartmut, and indeed, the same phenomenon was occurring within Gretia. She was proud to have given her all in service of someone so grand and understood that she was developing a blind obsession of sorts.
Perhaps that is why I do not fear dying with her if the worst comes to pass.
Gretia was still pondering the matter when yet another ordonnanz arrived. “This is Cornelius. The light has reached Ehrenfest.” It was a short, simple message, but his voice wavered, and a booming “UWOHHH! ROZEMYNE!” risked drowning him out.
I wonder if my lady remembers Lord Bonifatius...
Gretia knew about Rozemyne’s missing memories. It was the cost of a goddess having descended into her, and one could guess from Ferdinand’s treatment of the matter that retrieving them would not be easy.
Still, Lady Rozemyne is dead set on it.
It was an unfortunate situation, but Rozemyne’s lost memories did not seem to be causing her any issues. Gretia saw no reason for her lady to attempt anything dangerous to regain them—not when she could simply rebuild whatever she was missing. No matter what Rozemyne remembered, Gretia would continue to serve her.
“Aah, I can’t see it!” Justus exclaimed. “I can’t see any more changes! That was an ordonnanz from Ehrenfest’s border gate, right? That must mean it’s about to be finished. I want to see the completed magic circle with my own eyes. How must it look from the skies above?”
Snapping back to her senses, Gretia peered out the window at the magic circle now covering the sky. It had stopped changing, but the spell seemed incomplete. She awaited Clarissa’s ordonnanz in a state of near panic.
Gretia’s eyes were drawn more to the foundation’s hall than to the window. She was terribly worried about Rozemyne’s health. Unpleasant thoughts overran her mind—her lady collapsing midway through the spell or failing to completely drain her mana—and an important warning resurfaced.
“This spell will drain Rozemyne’s mana almost entirely. There is a chance she will die, and if she does, her name-sworn will ascend to the towering heights with her. Be prepared for the worst-case scenario.”
Such words of caution had come from Ferdinand and were given only to the name-sworn who would pass away with their lady. Leonore and Cornelius most likely had a vague understanding of the risk, but they had not been told directly.
“If she meets her demise, so, too, will the world. You, me, the new Zent—we will all die, and Yurgenschmidt will soon follow.”
Part of Gretia opposed the risk that Ferdinand was taking—the fate of the entire country depended on Rozemyne—but she also agreed with his insanity.
If the gods truly wish for Yurgenschmidt’s survival, then they need only keep my lady alive.
They were especially taken with Rozemyne, who had prayed and given more mana than anyone else, but had gotten much too involved in the world of men. It was not right to force a child to grow into an adult or to force divine mana into her, considering the limits of the human body.
The gods can reflect on their foolish deeds, which put the entire country in danger, and then dedicate themselves to keeping Lady Rozemyne alive.
If made to choose between her lady’s life and Yurgenschmidt’s continued existence, Gretia would choose the former every time. The gods had not saved her—Rozemyne had.
And a life outside her service would not be worth living.
Gretia was still underage. In the event that she somehow survived Rozemyne’s death, she would be sent back to her family home. She would much rather die alongside her lady than let that happen, she thought—and that was when the ordonnanz she had desperately been waiting for arrived.
“This is Clarissa. It’s done, Gretia! It was a huge success! The sky above the duchy is completely covered, and green light is raining down on us. It’s divine! More splendid than I can put into words! I expected no less from our own divine avatar!”
In the background of the message, Gretia heard applause and cheers of elation. “It would appear the spell was a success,” she said.
“Right,” Justus replied. “I want to see what things are like outside. I’ll come right back after I...” He paused and glanced at the door to the foundation, regret seeping through his expression. “No... The spell was a success, so they should come out soon. We cannot move from here.”
Gretia, too, awaited their return.
Time passed, but the door showed no sign of opening. Any excitement Gretia had felt about the success of the spell was quickly replaced with anxiety.
“Is my lady well...?” she asked.
“She must be. My lord is with her,” Justus replied. His earlier enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen—a worrying sign, Gretia thought.
There must be something—anything—I can do...
✦ ✦ ✦
✦ ✦ ✦
Unable to bear just staring at the door, Gretia scanned the room. If she could do something useful, maybe it would ease her anxiety. But no matter how hard she searched, there was nothing more to be done; they had already finished preparing to welcome Rozemyne back. There were rejuvenation potions of all sorts on the table and a made bed ready to be used.
“Gretia, I’ll watch the door. Could you brew some tea?”
“Yes, at once.”
Gretia practically flew into the retainers’ room. Justus had given her an adequate distraction. She warmed the teapot and cups, took out some tea leaves, and poured hot water into the teapot. She knew this process all too well, but her hands were trembling so much that she had to work slowly. Another ordonnanz arrived as she was picking up one of the cups.
“This is Lieseleta. The spell was a success, was it not? Has our lady still not returned from the foundation?”
Gretia twitched. Lieseleta was waiting in another room, while Leonore and the others were guarding the door. They must have been just as worried that they had not received an update on Rozemyne. Gretia was unsure how to respond, torn between wanting to vent her anxiety and assure her fellow retainers that they had nothing to worry about.
Hurry back, Lady Rozemyne. Everyone is waiting.
But as that thought passed through her mind, Gretia remembered something important—a piece of advice from her lady.
“Pray not for yourself but for others. That is the most fundamental rule of prayer.”
In the past, Gretia had prayed incessantly for the gods to save her. They never had. Was it because she was praying for herself...? The gods were troublesome beings who did not understand the limits of mere mortals, but Rozemyne’s encounters had at least proven they were real.
If I pray for someone else—for Lady Rozemyne—then perhaps my words will reach them.
Still clutching one of the teacups, Gretia petitioned the gods. Rather than praying to pass her classes, to obtain divine protections, or at someone else’s command, she made a heartfelt request for the sake of someone dear to her. It was the first time she had ever prayed in the true sense.
“Please let Lady Rozemyne come back safe.”