Lord Ferdinand had led me to believe that anyone who received the Grutrissheit from Lady Rozemyne would be recognized as the new Zent. The gods appeared to disagree. I turned to him at once, hoping for an explanation; he had since finished speaking with Mestionora and approached me. The goddess floated leisurely through the air before sitting above Erwaermen’s shoulder.
“Lady Eglantine is a necessary intermediary for us,” Lord Ferdinand declared. “As we discussed before, Zents from the next generation onward will once again be chosen from among those who obtain the Book of Mestionora themselves. She will rule Yurgenschmidt with a Grutrissheit—or a magic tool of one, at least.”
“Goodness, an artificial Grutrissheit?” Mestionora asked, her tone chastising. “You would repeat the errors of Albsenti?”
I shrank back on instinct. In the presence of a goddess, with my understanding of how the Grutrissheit had come to be inherited, I was intolerably ashamed to be a member of the royal family.
Lord Ferdinand shook his head. “This magic tool was made in such a way that it cannot be passed down. The next Zent will obtain the Book of Mestionora through their own power; we need only buy enough time for the next generation to be raised.”
“The world of men is always so troublesome,” Mestionora said.
Lord Ferdinand picked up something wrapped in silver cloth, then removed the magic rope and sealing feystones that were keeping the cover in place. He took out a sizable bracelet decorated with a large feystone.
“Lady Eglantine,” he said, “please put your hand through this and register your mana with it.”
Registering my mana with the bracelet and casting the appropriate spell would make the Grutrissheit appear in my hands. I could not believe the technological savvy of Zent Albsenti, the inventor of the tool, or Lord Ferdinand, who had made it anew. Their talents were almost inhuman.
“How curious...” I said. “If you were this capable, Lord Ferdinand, then why did you not strive to take the throne?”
“For the same reason you avoided it, despite being the only member of the royal family who could enter the shrines.”
He did not wish to become a seed of war.
“That is agreeable,” I said. “We each have our own circumstances. No matter how extraordinary someone might be, I understand that some things are simply beyond the control of a single person.”
“Eglantine. Do you really agree with Quinta?” Mestionora asked, almost unable to believe her ears. “Is the world of men truly as he says?”
I stood up straight. Lord Ferdinand had warned me of the vast chasm that separated the worlds of men and the gods. He likely stood against Erwaermen and Mestionora because neither one of them understood our perspective as humans.
“My life so far has taught me the value of peace,” I said. “For the sake of avoiding another war, I consider the path Lord Ferdinand proposes more reliable than any other. His methods for obtaining what he desires might stand out for their intensity, but the future he seeks is one of stability.”
“In your opinion as a human, is his path more reasonable than Myne’s?”
I thought about Lady Rozemyne for a moment. Though we had not spent much time together, many aspects of her mindset stood out to me.
“Lady Rozemyne does not enjoy war, but she is intensely self-centered,” I eventually replied. “Lord Ferdinand and I believe that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. We do what we must to preserve the greater peace. Lady Rozemyne, on the other hand, would go to dangerous lengths to protect those closest to her.”
A normal archduke candidate would not have invaded Ahrensbach and stolen its foundation for the sake of a single man. Considering the balance of power between duchies, the lives of the knights who had fought with her, and the social impact of the invasion, Lady Rozemyne would have minimized the death toll and secured a greater advantage by allowing Lord Ferdinand to perish, accepting reparations from Ahrensbach, and putting the royal family in her debt.
“Even while attending her Royal Academy lessons, Lady Rozemyne spoke of the library city she hoped to build, blind to the fact that her people would not share her obsession with books. She prioritizes her own desires more than the needs of society—mortal or divine—and would, as a result, make a far worse Zent than Lord Ferdinand. If she ever entered politics, those who refused to satisfy her lust would end up being swallowed and destroyed.”
I shot a glance at Lord Ferdinand. By taking advantage of a royal decree, he had secured his place as Lady Rozemyne’s fiancé. I hoped he would remain fully devoted to correcting her mad quest to obtain all that she desired.
Though, as one of her name-sworn, I will always be at the mercy of her whims.
“Eglantine, do you mean you can mediate between mankind and the gods?” Erwaermen asked.
I slowly shook my head, unable to say otherwise. “Because of my education, the ways of the gods have never once crossed my mind. But if preventing war between our worlds is my duty as a Zent, then that is what I shall strive to do.”
“Lady Eglantine, did you forget my warning?” Lord Ferdinand asked with a glare.
I gave him a slight smile. “I appreciate your advice, but I must perform the duties expected of me. No longer am I the wife of a second prince who gave up his claim to the throne. I wish to become not someone who rules for lack of choice and relies on a magic tool but a true Zent recognized by the gods.”
“Though your spirit is admirable,” Erwaermen said, “the words of men cannot be trusted. You lie as easily as you breathe.” He pointed to the sky above, and a beam of golden light came down. “Eglantine, will you repeat your declaration as a vow to the heavens?”
Erwaermen was prompting me to swear an oath to the Goddess of Light and her subordinates. I gave Lord Ferdinand a tired smile—he was openly bitter about the gods’ interference—entered the golden light of my own volition, and then knelt before Erwaermen and the goddess hovering above his shoulder. I refused to let his harsh stare faze me.
“May all the gods be our witnesses.”
I gazed up into the world of the gods, and the golden light seemed to sparkle more intensely. “As it stands, I am reliant on a magic tool, and my mana and prayer are both lacking. I shall do everything I can to remedy these shortcomings and become a true Zent. I hereby swear to circle every shrine, pray to the gods, and obtain my own Book of Mestionora.”
The golden light enveloped me. It seemed to rush into my body and then disappeared.
“I, Mestionora, bear witness to this vow,” the goddess said, her voice more soothing than before. I gazed up and saw she was wearing a gentle smile.
Erwaermen, too, looked more considerate. “The promise is made,” he said. “I wish you luck in fulfilling it.”
I bowed my head lower in response, still kneeling.