Chapter Text

Ferdinand — Timing

Rozemyne was not dead, this… Ferdinand knew for a fact. 

He checked multiple times a day when time allowed, the poison was still in her system, but it was slowly being suppressed.

Another bird arrived. "Has Rozemyne awoken?!"

Ferdinand was tired of Bonifatius playing substitute for Ordoschnelli. He had explained Rozemyne’s current status multiple times already, and none of these godsforsaken birds were going to make the process go any faster.

If they worked like that, all bird traffic in Ehrenfest would be occupied by him just so these pointless daily check-ins would cease.

He stepped into the hall, assuring Rozemyne's attendants that her recovery was proceeding as expected. "She won’t be waking up anytime soon. None of the signs that would suggest such a development have appeared."

Her attendants dropped to a kneel as he swept past, Justus keeping a brisk step behind him. "I will be going into my hidden room." He didn't even break his stride. "As you wish, Lord Ferdinand."

He opened the door to his hidden room. The sight that greeted him was appalling. Books lay in disarray, half-made magic circles were discarded on the floor, and three magic tools sat incomplete on his table. His room hadn’t been this messy since the reign of Veronica.

He slumped into his chair with a heavy thump. There was no time to tidy up; he needed to find a solution.

"Grutrissheit… Jureve." He had hoped to avoid resorting to this, but he had no choice.

He skimmed through outlier cases that would not help with his predicament. The truth was, he had already searched for a simple remedy in his Book of Mestionora, and only found one magic circle that might help with the situation. The problem was that most of the information regarding that one specific case was incomplete. This would normally not be an issue, as he could usually decipher what the rest of a circle was meant to be, but this one only had the base structure and none of the necessary sigils.

He picked up another piece of paper recently purchased from Benno. The merchant had sought him out not long ago, asking for news of Rozemyne’s status to inform her family in the lower city. Ferdinand had offered him nothing. What words could he possibly give them when the situation remained so utterly bleak?

The circle he drew made sense based on the information he had; it would activate and produce an effect. A large portion of the wisdom from the noble who invented this circle was absent, but it was recorded to have worked on his sleeping nephew. The child had woken up, and the creator had not died while attempting it. There seemed to be no side effects that he could discern from other nobles' points of view. After the man used the circle, the child had awakened.

Yet, as he studied it further, the execution proved far more complex than he expected.

A final choice settled in his mind. He would not risk a circle he did not fully understand, not when so many gods were invoked within its design.

Rozemyne was not dead. She would wake eventually… he needn’t rush Wentuchte.

He left his chambers empty handed, restless, he went back to the temple to check on Rozemyne.

—

Another week had passed with still no sign that Rozemyne would wake.

Yet she wasn’t dead. He had checked.

He had scheduled a meeting with Benno, wishing to commission a hair ornament for her eventual awakening—an arrangement that would also support her lower-city family in her absence. He set the meeting to take place in the orphanage director’s chambers in three days from then.

"What sort of ornament are you looking for, Lord Ferdinand?"

Once the customary greetings concluded, Benno motioned Tuuli forward. It would serve her education well to practice her etiquette, and more importantly, it would allow her to speak directly with Rozemyne once she woke. 

"I wish to commission a winter hair pin incorporating the colors of Gedulth and Rozemyne’s birth season. The specific flower is of no concern to me, provided it matches her wardrobe."

"As you wish, but if I may be permitted a frank word—" 

There was no need for her to ask; he could see the question in her mind. Schutzaria’s wish was unmistakable. "You may leave."

Allowing personal queries would be detrimental to her education, and would one day get her killed if given the chance.

The group silently left.

—

Winter passed, yet Rozemyne had yet to wake, her skin remaining utterly pale.

He stored the hairpin away.

While performing his routine duties outside both the temple and the castle, he crossed paths with Gunther. Meeting a look that spoke of months of accumulated worry, Ferdinand tightened his expression before turning away.

"Excuse me, Lord Ferdinand—"

How utterly foolish. His family was already well aware that there was no news to share, yet the man dared to address a noble in public. Eckhart immediately stepped forward to reprimand the commoner for his insolence.

"Ah, yes. I have matters to discuss with you. Follow me." Ferdinand intervened sharply, deflecting the situation. "How fares the eastern gate? Any valuable information you possess is of the utmost importance to the Archduke."

He needed to get him away from the blue priests and scholars.

He chastised Gunther as quickly and thoroughly as he could, but they had no time to dwell on the issue out here.

If this recklessness continued, Rozemyne’s entire family would face execution before she ever opened her eyes.

—

He tried to summon Benno as soon as his schedule cleared, but issues at the orphanage forced him to reschedule. Then, his duties at the castle required him to manage the rampant factions. By the time he finally held the meeting later that season, he had not slept in weeks.

Benno arrived accompanied by Effa, whose eyes mirrored the exact same anguish her husband had displayed weeks prior.

Ferdinand kept the meeting brief. He ordered a new garment for Rozemyne, issued a single warning regarding Gunther’s family, and sent them on their way.

Once the door clicked shut, Ferdinand leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The sudden quiet of the room did nothing to alleviate the dull, persistent ache settling behind his temples. He was operating at the absolute limit of his stamina. 

He opened the small satchel at his waist and retrieved a rejuvenation potion—specifically, the modified, sweeter variant he had brewed at Rozemyne’s insistence. 

It rested heavy on his hand.

"Lord Ferdinand, the Aub requests your presence in the castle."

His stamina was so thoroughly depleted that he had not even registered the arrival of the Ordonnanz until the ivory bird spoke.

Ferdinand departed for the castle without delay. Upon his arrival, he was received by one of the Veronicans Sylvester inexplicably continued to keep in his retinue. The retainer deliberately hindered their progress to the Aub's office, repeatedly halting to converse with passing scholars in the corridors. The man’s intent to provoke a public outburst was transparent. However, having spent his life navigating far more lethal schemes, Ferdinand found the attempt almost insultingly amateurish.

"Lord Ferdinand has arrived."

With the retainer’s tedious display finally concluded, Ferdinand was ushered into the office. He delivered the customary formal greeting to the Aub, then immediately took his seat and began processing the awaiting stacks of paperwork.

It did not take long for him to notice that Sylvester's focus was elsewhere. Ferdinand observed the Aub repeatedly open his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut again in uncharacteristic hesitation.

"An Aub must speak clearly and with conviction," Ferdinand stated, his quill never pausing its swift, precise movements across the parchment. "State your business, Sylvester."

Sylvester let out a heavy breath, his posture slackening as he dropped his noble facade. "You look terrible, Ferdinand. I was under the impression your burden had lessened now that my children are assisting with the temple ceremonies."

While his brother’s intentions were genuine, his priorities remained fundamentally misplaced.

"Your concern is unwarranted," Ferdinand replied smoothly, not looking up from his work. "While your children are indeed assisting, they must still be instructed in the proper procedures. Furthermore, I must remain present to oversee their efforts so that, should their mana or competence fall short, I can immediately step in to conduct the ceremony myself. The logistics allow for no other alternative."

Sylvester sighed, crossing his arms and dropping his shoulders. "I understand that. But you are also burning yourself out researching ways to awaken Rozemyne, right? If her condition is as severe as your reports indicate, there is no guarantee she will awaken before she is scheduled to enroll in the Royal Academy."

Ferdinand’s quill finally halted. He lifted his gaze to meet his brother's. "What makes you think that?"

Sylvester simply shrugged. "Just a hunch”

Ferdinand suppressed a sigh, a dull ache pulsing at his temples. "You are not entirely wrong. However, I have made very little progress, and success is far from guaranteed."

"Show me the circle?"

Pulling a blank sheet of paper toward him, Ferdinand swiftly sketched the foundational design. He lacked the time to draw a fully functional array, but the core structure was clear enough. He passed the paper across the desk.

Sylvester leaned forward to study the ink. "I can see this calls upon Wiegenmilch and Heilschmerz. What is the issue? Did you not design this yourself?"

"I found it in a crumbling manuscript during my time at the Royal Academy," Ferdinand replied. "I never expected such ancient records to be of any practical use, but circumstances have changed."

"Well, if the source is credible, why hesitate?" Sylvester asked, his eyes tracing the intricate lines. "I do not see any conflicting gods in the design, so there is no risk of a violent rebound. Were there any documented side effects?"

"None."

"Then let us proceed," Sylvester decided, his tone carrying the weight of the Aub. "The sooner Rozemyne awakens, the better it will be for both her and Ehrenfest. Preparing for the Royal Academy is no small task. I will supervise the attempt."

Sylvester’s logic was sound. There was little risk in the attempt provided Ferdinand implemented the necessary precautions, and a successful outcome would solve their most pressing matter.

"As you wish," Ferdinand replied.

The two returned to their paperwork. Working in focused silence, they managed to process a considerable number of documents despite Ferdinand's profound exhaustion.

Later, Sylvester’s office was completely cleared of scholars and attendants. Only Eckhart and Karstedt remained inside to stand guard.

Activating the magic circle required a surprisingly straightforward procedure. First, a sample of the sleeping child's mana had to be mixed into the ink used to draw the array. Fortunately, the ritual did not require the subject to be physically present. This spared them the severe logistical and security risks of transporting a comatose Rozemyne to the castle.

With the preparations complete, the caster needed only to supply their mana and speak a simple invocation.

Ferdinand stood before the finished circle. "May we receive the protection of Wiegenmilch."

A bright light then filled his vision.

Rozemyne — Awakening

My chamber was pitch black when I opened my eyes. I was still submerged in the thick, sluggish remnants of my jureve. Part of me had expected Ferdinand to keep his word and be the one waiting when I finally awoke, but the heavy silence suggested I was entirely alone.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Heavy, hurried footsteps rushed into the room, followed immediately by the blinding flare of magic stones snapping to life. I squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden glare.

Before I could even orient myself, a pair of hands reached into the tub. They grasped me beneath the arms and hoisted me out of the liquid, the movement surprisingly gentle despite the frantic haste.

"Ferdinand—kugh—how..." I choked, sputtering as the medicinal fluid drained from my throat.

Blinking away the blurriness, I looked up—and froze. The person holding me was not Ferdinand. It was Sylvester. He had hastily wrapped a large, thick towel around my shoulders and was now aggressively keeping his face turned in the opposite direction, staring intently at the wall.

"Sorry I'm the one pulling you out," Sylvester said, his voice tense and rushed, refusing to look my way. "But the situation has become incredibly complicated."