“Listen well, Hannelore,” Dregarnuhr said as I was overcome with the sensation of a slight descent, “your mind can remain in the past only until Rozemyne has finished repairing the thread. Furthermore, I forbid you from doing anything that might obstruct Wentuchte’s work.”
The goddess spoke quickly. Perhaps because Liebeskhilfe had acted on a whim, she had very little time to impart her most crucial warnings.
“You are also prohibited from sharing any knowledge about the future with the people you meet,” Dregarnuhr continued. “Let me be clear—if anyone finds you suspicious, I shall consider it a danger and take action. I shall retrieve you at once and erase the memories of those you were involved with.”
The gods’ priority was repairing the tapestry that Wentuchte had woven; it stood to reason that changing history was strictly forbidden. Thankfully for us all, I took no interest in obstructing Lady Rozemyne or the gods—I merely wanted another chance to confess to my heart’s desire in the hope that we could finally be together.
“Understood,” I said. “To begin with, I do not intend to make any major revisions to history. I want only to convey my feelings to Lord Wilfried.”
“Wil...?”
The goddess’s voice faded, and with a low clack, I was slotted into a new place in time.
I awoke in my room inside the dormitory. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I could not help but doubt whether the gods had actually succeeded in their work. Their perception of time was a world apart from our own, so they could easily have made some kind of mistake. I sat up and checked my nightwear.
These are the same clothes I wore last year. I suppose I really am at the right point in time.
It was so much colder at the Royal Academy than at home that I ordered new nightwear each year. Seeing what I was wearing now, I could say without a shadow of a doubt that I was in the correct year. My next question was how far into the academic term we were; I needed to know whether Lady Rozemyne had vanished yet. Eager to find out, I changed my clothes and went straight to the training grounds.
“Oh? Are you here to participate, Lady Hannelore?” came a sharp remark from one of the apprentice knights.
As the air grew thick with tension, my retainers gathered defensively around me. The apprentices all shot me pointed stares, but why? I was only following my usual routine. My brow furrowed, I set about my training... and realized what was going on.
Ah, yes. Last year, I was still...
My fourth year at the Academy had been plagued with negativity. I had yet to clear my name, so the others of my duchy had ostracized me for bringing about our defeat only to be turned away by the low-ranking Ehrenfest. At once, I recalled just how poorly the knights and my brother’s retainers had treated me, and how much I had wanted to leave home as a result.
Time and time again, my duchy had compared me to Lady Rozemyne. I had failed to put up a meaningful defense during the Sovereign knights’ attack, allowing Lord Wilfried to tempt me into submission, whereas she had put up a shield to ensure not just her own safety but that of her peers as well. The more her reputation climbed among our students, the more I was deemed a mess of an archduke candidate in contrast.
My actions during our recent game of bride-stealing ditter had resulted in our defeat, but that alone was not the issue. In fact, if my betrayal had secured me an engagement with Lord Wilfried, I doubted a single person would have spoken out against me. Using my brother as a stepping stone to obtain my love would have made me a masterful tactician.
Instead, I had taken a step back, reluctant to trouble Ehrenfest any more than we had already. I had given up on what was rightfully mine, rendering our defeat pointless and inspiring my fellow students to deem me unfit to be an archduke candidate. To make matters worse, my brother had graduated, leaving me to manage the dormitory on my own. Any trouble I had with the work he had previously overseen only reinforced the burgeoning consensus that I was a letdown. If not for the ditter incident, my brother’s retainers would have helped me, but I could not ask them questions as things stood.
In its current state, the Dunkelfelger Dormitory was a most unpleasant place for me—somewhere I would rather not tarry. As I reached the end of my training, I scanned the grounds and steeled my resolve.
This is a race against time.
I would confess my feelings to Lord Wilfried and return to the present posthaste, I thought. But a moment later, I was struck with a startling realization: my time here depended on how long it took Lady Rozemyne to repair the errant thread.
“Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time,” I called, touching my charm—but I received no response. Even if I completed my mission at once, perhaps I would be stuck here until Lady Rozemyne’s work was done.
“Prayer can wait,” Cordula said. “Get changed and eat breakfast first, milady.”
Following the advice of my head attendant, I bathed, changed, and then headed to the dining hall with my retainers. There, I eyed my would-be suitors, who were sitting only a short distance away.
Raufereg had yet to join the Royal Academy. He tended to make noise with his friends and retainers during meals, so the hall seemed rather serene in his absence.
Rasantark had greeted me upon my arrival, but now he was focused on his food. Kenntrips had glanced up out of curiosity before immediately returning his attention to his plate. It would have been absurd to expect us to be as close as we were in the present, but even so, I found their detachment strange and uncomfortable. Was there a reason Kenntrips kept meeting my eye?
“Is something the matter, Kenntrips?” I asked.
He blinked at me in surprise, then approached. “It is about the mednoble Dedication Ritual...”
In an instant, I understood what he wanted to say: the applicants must have been decided. Praying made it easier to obtain divine protections, which appealed to students of all statuses, but the process of giving up mana placed a heavy burden on laynobles and low-grade mednobles. Forcing them to participate could negatively impact their progress in class, so they were allowed to choose whether they were up to the task.
The archnobles and archduke candidates of our duchy were not allowed the same autonomy. For us, participation was mandatory.
“Could you show me the list, then?” I asked.
Instead of sharing the names he had written down, Kenntrips gave me a dubious look. “Has... Lord Lestilaut discussed this matter with you?”
“Hmm?”
“You, um... requested the document without consulting Luitpold.”