The Dunkelfelger Dormitory buzzed with activity after the Goddess of Time’s descent into Hannelore and the wave of ditter challenges that followed. Things showed no sign of calming down.
“Here,” Andrea said. “Lindenthal gave me a letter for the aub after class today. Please add it to the pile.”
“Does it never end...?” Kenntrips asked, a weary smile crossing his face. “Fine. Leave it with me.”
There was little more he could do. Bride-stealing ditter challenges were arriving without end, and Dunkelfelger’s students were being treated as ordonnanzes, tasked with carrying letters from one aub to another. While students from other duchies took pride in the role, it had grown tiresome for Dunkelfelger, who found it hard to resist meeting each new letter with frustration.
“Kenntrips, it’s almost time to train,” Rasantark said. As both Lestilaut’s guard knight and one of Hannelore’s suitors, he was dedicating every moment he could to preparing for the upcoming ditter match. Then he caught sight of the latest letter next to the growing stack of mail. “What, another one?”
“Yes, another one,” Kenntrips said, skimming through its contents. “At this point, something is clearly wrong. It’s unthinkable that a lesser duchy—especially one as minor as Lindenthal—would challenge Dunkelfelger to bride-stealing ditter. I should very much like to find out who’s pulling the strings.”
“Crushing them all should resolve the matter. I will protect Lady Hannelore.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Kenntrips replied, for there was little else to say. He envied Rasantark’s great strength and the assurance it gave him, yet begrudged his knightly single-mindedness. Brute force was no panacea.
“Is she still asleep?” Rasantark asked.
“To my knowledge. Andrea brought me this letter; had there been any changes in Lady Hannelore’s condition, I trust she would have informed me.”
Kenntrips carefully closed the box containing their many letters, then gazed toward Hannelore’s room. Rasantark did the same. Ten days had passed since the incident, and still, she was unconscious.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Please accept my sincerest apologies, Lady Hannelore. As an archduke candidate of Ehrenfest, I cannot risk sowing seeds of chaos or destruction in my duchy.”
Hannelore offered a sad smile and squeezed her wrist—a gesture Kenntrips recognized as a sign that she was containing intense emotions. Her reaction was more than justified; she had just confessed to Wilfried, only to be rejected in front of her peers.
This was cruel of me, but...
Kenntrips had given Hannelore the push she needed to propose, fully aware that her love would not be returned. She was stubborn to a fault and would never have found closure unless she acted on her own and reached some kind of resolution. Had she agreed to marry one of her suitors while still interested in someone else, it would only have been a matter of time before her uncertainty brought about disaster.
It was because Kenntrips understood the importance of such closure—for both Hannelore and the duchy as a whole—that he had swallowed his own bitter affection and urged her to take action. She would surely weep for some time, as she had been known to do in her youth, but she would come to terms with her emotions and rise more capable than before.
She has the strength to recover; still, that doesn’t change the pain she feels right now.
Seeing the girl once labeled a crybaby doing all she could to contain her emotions, Kenntrips took a step forward. “Lady Hannelore, are you okay?”
Ortwin appeared just as concerned; he put down his sound-blocker and suggested they end their meeting there. Hannelore agreed and set about bidding him and Wilfried farewell.
“Allow me to offer prayers and gratitude to Dregarnuhr the Goddess of Time for weaving our threads together this day.”
As she spoke, a bright glow enveloped her wrist. Kenntrips recognized the source as a charm made by Cordula, dedicated to the Goddess of Time. Its feystone, carved with Dregarnuhr’s sigil, traced a magic circle in the air with slender yellow light.
What’s going on?!
Those present could only watch in a daze as the magic circle took shape. They had no idea what was happening—or what to do. The circle flashed, then rained down light that swiftly wrapped around Hannelore. Her body rose into the air as though carried by invisible strings.
“Lady Hannelore!” Kenntrips exclaimed. He reached out in a desperate bid to free her. His hand was repelled, and a sharp pain rendered it numb.
“Leave, insolent ones,” Hannelore said, opening scornful eyes. The relief that Kenntrips and the others had felt at her being okay was painfully short-lived.
That’s not Lady Hannelore!
She continued to float in the air, enveloped in yellow light that now seemed to radiate from her. Her eyes had turned the same vivid shade, no longer their usual red, and the tenderness she normally exuded was gone. Instead, she emanated an overwhelming intensity that compelled all in her presence to kneel. Hannelore would probably have been aghast if she had known, but Kenntrips was shocked to learn her face was even capable of such a domineering expression.
“I told you to leave,” she repeated, waving her hand with visible displeasure as she sat in midair. At once, everyone inside the gazebo—which now shone with yellow light—was expelled.
Hannelore sat alone. Few could approach the gazebo in its current state—only archduke candidates and archnobles from high-ranking branch families. Even then, the younger students among them would stumble. Hannelore’s retainers were scattered as well.
“I guess you need a certain amount of mana to even get close to the gazebo,” Wilfried observed.
Kenntrips turned just in time to see a crowd rushing out of the scholar building. They wanted a better look at the source of the commotion, but the goddess’s power stopped them short. How close they could get provided a more precise measure of their mana than any one person’s mana-sensing. Wilfried stood about two paces behind Kenntrips, indicating that their capacities were fairly similar.
He has more mana than I expected. Not long ago, Ehrenfest was near the bottom of the duchy rankings; now, he has a capacity that rivals that of an archduke candidate of a greater duchy.
Wilfried stood almost shoulder to shoulder with Ortwin. Kenntrips, though only an archnoble, was Aub Dunkelfelger’s nephew; he had never imagined that such a person would come so close to matching him.
“I am Dregarnuhr, the ruler of time,” the being that had taken Hannelore’s form announced.
As the charm on Hannelore’s wrist had indicated, the Goddess of Time had indeed descended. Kenntrips could feel the elation of those around him, aware they were witnessing an event that would go down in history... but he did not share in it. A shudder ran through him as he feared what Hannelore’s possession would mean for her.