Circling the Shrines

Circling the Shrines

Circling the Shrines

Although we now knew the locations of the shrines, I was too busy with the underground archive to actually visit them. There had to be a work-around of some kind. In an ideal world, I would repeat what we had done for the first shrine and go there with Hildebrand or Hannelore, but that wasn’t viable when we were under strict orders not to wander around outside.

I guess I wouldn’t mind sharing the locations with Lady Eglantine if she wanted to visit them herself...

Unable to think of any satisfying ideas, I made my way to the underground archive, where Eglantine and Anastasius were once again going to be spending the morning. It was a day like any other, but when I went to enter the archive with my writing utensils in hand—

“Lady Rozemyne, do wait a moment.”

I turned around and said, “Yes, Lady Eglantine?” She was wearing a smile like a blooming flower, while Anastasius looked quite bitter beside her.

“There is a change of plans for today—I must ask you to visit the shrines with us. I wish to see your large-scale cleaning magic for myself. Among some other things, perhaps...”

Anastasius then elaborated, “You are the only one who can clean them so quickly.” That confirmed it: this was the will of the royal family.

So that’s how they’re going to play this, hm?

This was the consequence of my being so vague with Eglantine. They were going to force me to enter the shrines while watching me the entire time.

I really didn’t want to believe they would resort to being so forceful, but... here we are.

There was a sudden heaviness in the pit of my stomach, as though I’d just swallowed a rock, but my options were painfully limited. After hanging my head in defeat, I reluctantly followed Eglantine and Anastasius out of the library with my retainers in tow. I was in my highbeast, of course; Anastasius was taking us to the shrine on the other side of the scholar building, and there was no way I was going to keep up with the adults on foot.

“Rozemyne. Here,” Anastasius said, then offered me a sound-blocker. I took it and gazed up at him, only to see him looking back at me in displeasure. “It would seem you kept secrets from Eglantine in that meeting of yours, even after she went out of her way to exclude me. She was despondent last night, you know.”

“If anyone should feel despondent, it is I. It was outright malicious of Lady Eglantine to ask me questions that my status prevents me from answering.”

Saying that I couldn’t enter the shrine would have gotten me accused of lying to the royal family. Admitting that I could and that I’d acquired a slate wouldn’t have done me any better; I would have been deemed an even greater traitor than Detlinde, whose transgressions thus far extended no further than some treasonous remarks.

Can I really be blamed for keeping my silence?

No matter how much I wanted to hide the truth, I couldn’t refuse a royal order; I would need to touch the shrine if they told me to. It depressed me that these two, of all people, were being so forceful. I’d never thought that my noble-like response to Eglantine would end with me being made to reveal my secrets.

“My apologies,” Eglantine said. “I do this only because I am left with no other options.”

No matter how cutely she apologized, the tightness in my chest remained. I assumed she was looking for a secret technique of some kind that would allow Sigiswald to enter the shrines, thereby circumventing another war, but I didn’t have the answers she sought. At most, I could only suggest that we continue reading the archive’s tablets. I certainly couldn’t admit that I wanted to obtain the Book of Mestionora, read it, then use it as a bargaining chip to ensure that Ferdinand wouldn’t get punished.

“You must have entered that shrine,” Anastasius reasoned. “You’ve prayed so often, obtained so many divine protections, controlled divine instruments at will, and performed countless ceremonies. Why even try to hide it?”

“As I recall, it was you who told me to learn how much information is worth and not disclose it freely. Should you not praise me for having taken your lesson to heart?”

“Rozemyne,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to order me to tell you everything?”

“Yes. Anything that you attempt to hide will surely evolve into something monstrous behind the scenes. It is because we have been honest with each other that things have gone well so far, is it not? I see no reason for us to change that now. There is no world in which someone as religious as you would not be allowed into the shrines.” Instead of commending me for acting like a true noble, he was ordering me not to hide anything from him.

“Perhaps I am at fault here, since it was my own behavior that has led you to scold me, but let it be known that I cannot provide the convenient solution that Lady Eglantine seeks.”

I was telling the truth, but Anastasius merely raised an eyebrow at me and said, “I wonder about that...” I could tell from his expression that he doubted me, but the only thing I was keeping to myself was a comment much too rude to say.

Sigiswald couldn’t enter the shrine because he hadn’t been omni-elemental when he obtained his schtappe. He hadn’t been omni-elemental because the royal family hadn’t read the documents in the underground archive, which detailed the importance of elements. They hadn’t read those documents not only because of the colossal death toll of the civil war and purge, and the abundance of knowledge that had been lost as a result, but also because none of the royals could read or had studied ancient language.

To be frank, none of this was my fault. It wasn’t because of me that people could only obtain their schtappe once, nor was I in a position to change things. Was it really so bad of me to think that Eglantine or Hildebrand should visit the shrines, since they were the only members of the royal family who could plausibly obtain the Grutrissheit? Nobles would consider that a lot more acceptable than they would it going to someone from Ehrenfest. I could only think of one way for Sigiswald to be the next king without being able to obtain the Grutrissheit himself.

“Can anyone blame me for wanting to keep quiet when it is obvious how the royal family would respond to my being able to enter the shrines?” I asked. “I would rather die than leave my family in Ehrenfest to become the third wife of a man whose second marriage I just recently blessed.”

“So you’ve learned to use your head...” Anastasius muttered.

“Does this mean you will speak openly instead of waving off my questions?” Eglantine giggled, wearing her usual soft smile. She had completely ignored the “I would rather die” part of my response. “I understand how you feel, Lady Rozemyne, but we must avoid war in the Sovereignty at all costs; peace has only recently begun to return. Obtaining the Grutrissheit is of the utmost importance. You will assist us, correct?”

I averted my eyes. Their position made enough sense that I couldn’t just refuse—but, at the same time, I really didn’t want to agree. They continued to pressure me with silent smiles as we passed the professors’ herb garden by the scholar building and soon arrived at the shrine.

“So there truly are more shrines...” the royal retainers said, unable to hide their surprise. My own retainers were too concerned about my situation to react; their eyes darted from Eglantine to Anastasius to me.

I returned the sound-blocking magic tool to Anastasius, then smiled at my retainers. “We were simply discussing how to clean the shrines.” I climbed out of my Pandabus, then used a large-scale waschen. The filth vanished in a heartbeat, leaving the area positively sparkling.

“How wonderful,” Eglantine said with a smile, clearly impressed.

“Rozemyne,” Anastasius added, “check to see whether the door is locked.”

I did as he instructed, my heart heavy. No sooner had my fingers brushed the door than I was sucked through.

“Is this... the God of Darkness’s shrine?”

Just like in Leidenschaft’s, there were thirteen statues lined up before me. The centermost one depicted the God of Darkness himself, wearing a large cape that sparkled as wonderfully as the night sky. In its hand was a feystone slate, as expected, but this one was black rather than blue. It was complete, unlike the one Eglantine had described, so I could already see the text on it.

“Guess I should still offer a prayer. Just to be safe.”

Hesitant to reach for the slate without praying at all, I raised both of my hands and my left leg. “O God of Darkness, O Sterrat the God of Stars, O Verbergen the God of Concealment, O Verdraeos the God of Deliverance... Distance me from this troublesome royal family who think only of themselves and make such cruel demands of me. Praise be to the gods!”

I was praying out of anger. Among the God of Darkness’s subordinates was the God of Deliverance, who would ideally take care of the royal family for me.

“Oh, the text on this slate differs from what I saw in the God of Fire’s shrine. Let’s see here... ‘Speak the name I granted thee’?”

Er, whose name? The God of Darkness’s?

All of a sudden, the name that had been emblazoned in my mind during my third-year practical lessons resurfaced. “Praise be to Schicksantracht, the God of Darkness,” I said, which caused the black slate to suck out some of my mana, and the text on its surface to change.

“Your prayers have reached me, and your worth has been acknowledged. I shall now grant you a word necessary to obtain the Book of Mestionora. This word alone, however, will not suffice; a Zent candidate must obtain the words of the other gods as well.”

I finished reading the text, then the black slate went into me and fused with my internal schtappe. Once it was gone, Schicksantracht’s word came to my mind.

“Willedeal.”

An instant later, I was outside the shrine again. My eyes met those of Anastasius and Eglantine, who were staring at me intently—determined not to miss the moment when I was sucked through the door, no doubt. I could tell that trying to lie to them and say that it hadn’t worked simply wouldn’t fly.

“Well, now there are black lines...” I said.

“Excuse me?”

Above the shrine there were now black lines as well as blue. Eglantine and Anastasius followed my eyes, then exchanged glances of confusion.

I gave them both a vague smile. “Shall we visit the other shrines?”

Eglantine blinked at me in disbelief, then looked worried. “Will your body hold...?”

“Indeed. I am fine at the moment. Though I would surely collapse without my highbeast.”

Part of me wanted to collapse on the spot and ruin their plans out of spite, but Lessy meant that I wasn’t using much stamina at all. I wasn’t using much mana either, unfortunately.

“That side path would get us to the next shrine sooner,” I called out as Anastasius and Eglantine went to return to the scholar building. They turned to me, at which point I gestured toward a thin track leading through the forest. It seemed to shine for me but most likely didn’t for anyone else here; it was presumably the route that Zent candidates of the past had used to circle the shrines.

Anastasius squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “Climb into your highbeast, Rozemyne. We will go to the next one.” Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he started down the forest path. He must have gathered the location of the next shrine, in part thanks to my saying that they were at equidistant intervals around the Royal Academy.

As we made our way through the forest, Anastasius handed me the magic tool again. He confirmed that I was holding it and then said, “My brother will take you as his third wife. That will solve everything.”

“No, it won’t. As eager as I am to read a book belonging to a goddess, I don’t want to marry Prince Sigiswald.” Yes, his suggestion would “solve everything” for the royal family... but what about my own wants?

“Eglantine does not want to be the reason for another war, and she fears becoming the next Zent. If she obtains the Grutrissheit, the top-ranking duchies will all move at once, beginning with Klassenberg.”

Now he was really ticking me off—he was thinking about granting Eglantine’s wish and nothing else. “Indeed, neither the royal family nor the Sovereignty would suffer if you thrust this war upon me and made Ehrenfest accountable to the top-ranking duchies, but do you really think we would roll over and accept that? I already have a fiancé in Ehrenfest, and my intention is to remain there.”

“Yes,” Anastasius remarked, “you said as much during that exchange with Dunkelfelger.” I could tell from his tone that he still wasn’t going to budge.

I pursed my lips at the two royals. “So, in short... neither of you care about Ehrenfest in the slightest.”

Eglantine looked at me. “We do not wish your duchy ill, but its suffering is a small price to pay to avoid war in the Sovereignty. You must understand that, surely.” As it turned out, she felt as personally disconnected from Ehrenfest as I did from the Sovereignty.

“Above all else,” Anastasius continued, “I must prioritize Yurgenschmidt, the Sovereignty, and the royal family. That I would show such deep concern for Eglantine should go without saying. If my suggestion today is necessary to soothe her heart and ease her concerns, then what else can I do? Ehrenfest may suffer, but only Ehrenfest will care.”

It was truly embittering to hear that the royal family cared so little about my feelings, especially after I’d agreed to do so much for them. Anastasius had outright admitted that he would disregard me entirely for the sake of those he cared about more.