Re-Brewing My Jureve & The Zent's Intentions

As I was making my way through the dormitory with my retainers toward the brewing room to prepare my jureve, Rasantark came hurrying up to me.

“Rasantark, is something the matter?”

“Lady Hannelore, please allow me to accompany you. I couldn’t find the time during the gathering, but surely there’s a moment to talk while you’re brewing thejureve, isn’t there? I’ve come to realize—conversation really is important.”

At the gathering spot, we’re constantly on alert—gathering materials, subjugating feybeasts, dismantling them, all while protecting our companions. There’s no telling when a beast might attack, so it’s far too tense to chat leisurely. Outside of giving instructions, conversation is usually minimal.

By contrast, during potion brewing, there’s a long period of simply stirring ingredients—making conversation more feasible.

“I don’t particularly mind, but…”

“We don’t mind either. Preparing the jureve takes a long time, after all,” said one of the apprentice scholars.

Since they would be assisting me, there was no risk of being left alone with Rasantark. My retainers had no objection and gave their permission as well.

“Lady Hannelore, here…”

Just as I finished prepping the ingredients and was about to begin the brewing, Rasantark pulled out a magic tool to prevent eavesdropping. I understood his intention—he wished to speak privately—but once the process begins, I can’t exactly stop to handle a magic tool.

“I can’t use an anti-eavesdropping magic tool right now. I’m the one doing the mixing,” I said, gently refusing.

Rasantark blinked in surprise, as if I’d said something completely unexpected.

“Eh? But… Kenntrips said you and Lord Ortwin used one during your brewing lesson.”

“That was only during cleanup. During the actual brewing, the flow of mana is delicate—using unnecessary magic tools would disrupt it.”

”…I thought someone like you, Lady Hannelore—an archduke candidate—would be able to do both.”

I couldn’t do something like that—but perhaps Lady Rozemyne could. I recalled her remarkable skill during brewing classes, even using time-compression magic circles with ease.

As the memory crossed my mind, Rasantark’s expression visibly wilted.

“What did you want to talk about, Rasantark? I’ve been summoned by the Zent, so I must prioritize finishing my jureve. I can’t use the magic tool, but if it’s just casual conversation—nothing inappropriate for my retainers to hear—then I don’t mind at all.”

Rasantark’s face lit up with a bright smile as he stepped closer.

“Would it be possible to dismiss your retainers? I could assist with the brewing myself, if that’s the issue…”

“There’s no reason to send them away,” I replied calmly. “And I believe I said I’m fine with any conversation that my retainers can hear, didn’t I?”

”…I was hoping we could speak just the two of us, but—I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Rasantark glanced around at my retainers—none of whom looked the least bit inclined to leave—and let out a small, defeated sigh before taking a seat inside the brewing room.

“I just… enjoyed gathering with you,” he said. “So if there’s another chance, I’d like you to invite me again. The apprentice scholars are working on various magic tools for the bride-stealing ditter, so I’m sure many of them would be happy if we helped gather materials for them like we did previously.”

When gathering materials, there’s always the risk of being attacked by feybeasts, so the group usually splits—some focus on subjugation, others on plant collection. When apprentice scholars go gathering, they must ask the apprentice knights for protection. Having the guard knights of an archduke candidate present means they don’t need to hire anyone themselves, which naturally makes them quite happy.

…That said, I can’t just go along without a good reason, especially if there’s nothing urgent to gather.

As I stirred the seasonal ingredients in the pot, I listened to Rasantark speak. He praised this tactic I used, that decision I made when we were fighting the feybeasts—his attention to detail made it clear just how closely he’d been watching me. The constant stream of compliments made me feel more than a little embarrassed.

“I could tell, you know. You looked so full of life when you charged at the feybeasts, Rasantark.”

“You looked full of life too, Lady Hannelore. Being by your side like that, fighting together—I realized once again that it’s how I want things to be from now on.”

At Rasantark’s words, I tilted my head ever so slightly. He had said something similar back when he first spoke to me during the preparations for the dormitory ditter. Back then, I’d been happy to hear it.

But now… now, it left me with an odd sense of discomfort I couldn’t quite name.

…To keep fighting, together, from now on…?

Even though there had been no issues fighting feybeasts alongside Rasantark during this last gathering, I found myself unable to clearly picture what that would look like in the future.

“I believe… that when it comes to battle, you’re someone I can entrust my back to, or fight shoulder to shoulder with.”

“Eh? Ah—Lady Hannelore, does that mean you—?”

His eyes sparkled with hope, but before he could finish the thought aloud, I continued speaking, not letting the misunderstanding linger—because I needed to give voice to the discomfort I still felt.

“But… as a vision of the future, it doesn’t seem very realistic, does it? We are members of the archduke’s family. Where, exactly, would we be fighting, and against what? Within the duchy, subjugating feybeasts is the responsibility of the knights’ order. That’s not our responsibility.”

“Ah—then shall we go hunting on Earthday?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. That’s not it at all… How should I put this?”

Rasantark praised me for how I fought, for how I looked while fighting. But somehow… it felt as though he viewed our future too lightly—like he didn’t truly understand the roles expected of the archduke’s family or their spouses. And that worried me.

…Perhaps this is how those around me felt when they looked at me with concern or worry. That same uncertain, uneasy emotion.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rasantark leaning forward slightly, wearing a serious expression, clearly listening intently. But I kept my gaze on the pot as I continued to stir, never looking away.

“On the day I returned to the duchy for a time,” I began quietly, “my brother said something. He told me it didn’t matter whether I chose Kenntrips or you.”

Both of them care for me deeply, and I believe I could get along well enough with either of them as my husband.

“As an individual, I think I could be reasonably happy no matter who I married. But what about from the perspective of the archduke’s family? What about as the husband of a goddess’s avatar? Rasantark… how do you view the position of being my husband?”

“The position of Lady Hannelore’s husband…?” he repeated, clearly taken aback.

From the puzzled tone of his voice, I could tell he’d likely never truly thought about it before. I hadn’t either—at least not until someone pointed it out to me.

“It may seem like things won’t change much, since I’ll likely be assisting my brother or Einelibe in the future. But because you would be marrying into my household, your position wouldn’t be as one of my brother’s retainers—you’d be counted as part of the archduke’s family itself.”

My spouse would no longer remain just an archnoble. Like Einelibe, he would become part of the archduke’s family through marriage. I assumed both Kenntrips and Rasantark had received a certain level of education since their father was raised as an archduke candidate himself—but even so, marrying into my family would require thorough preparation.

“Just like Einelibe, you’d be in a position to have your own retainers after marriage. Have you given any thought to whom you might choose as candidates for that? And beyond that, you’d also need to get along with my retainers and be able to coordinate with them. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

Rasantark glanced around at the retainers surrounding me, his brows lowering with an almost helpless expression.

“You often wish to speak privately, as though my retainers make it difficult,” I continued. “But even after marriage, as a member of the archducal family, my retainers will never be far from me. Surely you’ve witnessed this with my brother and Einelibe?”

”…I see. Not just you—I would have retainers as well…”

He looked utterly perplexed, as though the very idea had never crossed his mind. “I would… have retainers? Wait, me? Really?”

“You’re used to serving others, but imagining what it’s like to be served is more difficult, isn’t it?” I said gently. “I was raised with the expectation that I would marry into another duchy, so I never truly learned what roles or skills were required of an archduke candidate who remains in their home duchy. Even now, I still feel unsure.”

“Eh? But… Lady Hannelore, haven’t you always been perfectly suited to this? You grew up in Dunkelfelger, after all…”

His surprised voice made me chuckle softly as I added another ingredient to the pot.

“No, there are many things I neglected because I thought they wouldn’t matter before I married into another duchy. I need to reevaluate those areas now—like how I build relationships with my retainers, or how much information I’ve been excluded from when it comes to internal affairs. To be honest… I suspect that Einelibe, who was raised with the expectation of becoming my brother’s second wife, knows more about our duchy than I do.”

“I… I don’t think that could be true…” Rasantark replied, though his voice lacked conviction.

I glanced at his uncertain expression, then turned my gaze back to the pot and continued stirring it in steady circles.

“Rasantark,” I said softly, “the world around me is changing rapidly. Are you truly aware of those changes? The position of the ‘Second Avatar of the Goddess’ is not something that will simply disappear. My future husband will need to keep a sharp eye on the other duchies trying to use that title to their advantage—and respond accordingly.”

As I spoke, I recalled Lord Ferdinand during the battle against Lanzenave—how he maneuvered to protect Lady Rozemyne’s position, and how even now, he sought information by prompting a second divine descent through me.

“I truly am happy that you care for me, Rasantark,” I said gently. “And when you told me I was worthy of being one of Dunkelfelger’s archduke candidates… it felt like I could finally reclaim pieces of my self-worth and confidence that I had lost.”

“Lady Hannelore…” he murmured, his expression softening.

I turned to face him and gave a warm, reassuring smile. It wasn’t my intention to dishearten him—I simply wanted him to understand the gravity of the position, the responsibilities that came with it. I wanted him to be aware.

“If it had been back then, I think I might have chosen you instead of Kenntrips. But now… after having the reality of my shortcomings as an archduke candidate laid bare, and working so hard with my retainers to overcome them—I can’t help but question the future you envision for us. You do understand, don’t you? That the role of a spouse in the archduke’s family is not to go out slaying feybeasts.”

”…To be honest,” Rasantark said quietly, “I’ve only ever thought about being by your side, Lady Hannelore. I haven’t considered things from such a realistic perspective at all. But… I will. Please give me time to think it through.”

Clenching his fist tightly, Rasantark stood up and gave a curt, “Excuse me,” before leaving the brewing room. I watched his back as he departed, then quietly returned my focus to the cauldron.

“Luitpold, please begin preparing the figual. It should be about time.”

“Understood. Though… was it really alright to give Lord Rasantark such advice? I imagine Lord Kenntrips will be heartbroken, thinking, ‘Was I not the one she chose?’”

At his worried tone, I let out a quiet chuckle. Kenntrips wouldn’t lament something like this—not when all I’d done was offer advice Rasantark needed in order to grow.

“It’s alright. I gave Kenntrips the path he needed to participate in the bride-stealing ditter, and I gave Rasantark guidance on the role of a consort. Just one piece of advice to each. Besides…”

I didn’t stop stirring the mixture, but I slowly glanced around at my gathered retainers.

“As long as my retainers are backing him,” I said with a small smile, “then at this stage, Kenntrips holds the advantage, wouldn’t you say? A consort who isn’t trusted by one’s retainers would be quite the problem.”

Luitpold let out an “Ahh… I see,” in a tone of realization as he poured the figual into the cauldron. I slowly stirred the mixture with care, infusing it with mana, and finally added a single drop of luthica.

With that, the jureve was complete.

”…Now, if only the meeting with the Zent ends without incident…”

“Please, milady—don’t say such ominous things,” one of my retainers said with a sigh.

When the promised time came, we departed from the dormitory. On the way to the palace, we reviewed what I should request of the Zent and how best to approach the conversation.

“Lady Hannelore, welcome,” said the Zent’s attendant as they greeted us upon arrival at the palace. They stopped between the retainer waiting room and the reception chamber.

“Regarding your request to keep your retainers present, the Zent said it is not possible to allow others to be present when speaking of matters involving the gods. A partition is the most she can concede. …What would you like to do?”

Cordula thought for a moment, then gave a reluctant but polite smile. “We are grateful for the Zent’s concession,” she said. It seemed she was satisfied, at least, that they hadn’t been forced to wait in another room entirely.

When we were shown into the reception room, Lady Eglantine herself greeted us. A folding screen had been set up within the chamber.

“Your retainers may wait here, behind the screen. You and I will speak in the back. …Is that acceptable?”

After first stepping into the back to check for any dangers and ensuring that tea was properly prepared, even the Zent’s retainers withdrew behind the screen. She immediately held out an anti-eavesdropping magic tool, and I accepted it.

“I apologize for the trouble caused by my retainers’ request,” I said formally. “After I lost consciousness in front of you, it seems my father scolded them quite harshly, telling them not to let me out of their sight again…”

I didn’t believe we were at fault in the slightest, but as a matter of formality, I offered an apology. Lady Eglantine seemed to understand—she let out a quiet breath.

“Think nothing of it,” she said gently. “It is Lord Ferdinand, who forced the divine descent, who is at fault. Your retainers must have been beside themselves, seeing their lady lose consciousness before the Zent, and outside of their purview. It’s only natural they would now take precautions.”

After showing sympathy for my retainers, she turned her eyes to me and offered a warning. “Even if you receive compensation, you must not so readily accept another’s request without caution.”

“Given the circumstances,” she continued, “I suspect Lord Ferdinand would have made the divine descent happen regardless of the means. Still, Lady Hannelore, the final choice was yours. You did receive compensation—and so, you must recognize that the distress of your fiancé candidate and the scolding your retainers received from your aub are consequences of your decision.”

“I apologize,” I said, bowing my head.

She was absolutely right. I’m satisfied with the compensation I received from Lord Ferdinand—so I cannot simply turn a blind eye to the consequences that followed the second divine descent.

“You’ve already heard from your fiancé candidate about what occurred during the goddess’s descent, yes?”

“Yes. The conversation progressed based on events from the past, so there were some parts I couldn’t fully grasp… but overall, yes. Is there anything I must know?”

If there are things I should or shouldn’t know, I want them explained to me clearly.

“I cannot speak of the divine matters that occurred in the past,” Lady Eglantine replied. “So there’s nothing in particular I can share. Did you learn anything new during your time in the world of the gods, Lady Hannelore?”

“The gods seemed to think rather poorly of Lord Ferdinand, so I tried to explain things from a human perspective and speak on his behalf,” I said thoughtfully. “Other than that… I suppose I got the impression that the gods place great importance on compensation.”

I recalled what had happened in the world of the gods, but there wasn’t much that required reporting. I chose to keep silent about the matters Kenntrips had deemed unnecessary to share.

In response to my words, she picked up a wooden board.

“Lady Hannelore, this report mentions that someone is scheming to cancel the bride-stealing ditter. Is that unrelated to the world of the gods?”

“No. In fact, I received a warning from the God of Stars, Sterrat, during my time there.”

I explained that I had reported to my duchy that someone might be attempting to cancel the ditter, and that I had discussed possible causes with my retainers. I also shared our prediction that Lord Ortwin is likely the key target in this scheme.

“I was hoping to hear your opinion on how best to prevent the ditter from being canceled. If possible, I would even ask for Lord Ortwin’s protection…”

“I’m sorry, Lady Hannelore,” she said gently, tilting her head. “But wouldn’t it be more peaceful if the ditter was canceled? Is there any particular trouble that would arise if it doesn’t go forward?”

I couldn’t comprehend what she had just said. I could only blink in stunned silence, unable to form a response. Lady Eglantine, in turn, looked slightly puzzled by my reaction.

…Something is wrong. Didn’t I just tell her I received that warning in the world of the gods?

Had I forgotten to mention that the male gods themselves were hoping for the bride-stealing ditter to take place?

I must make her understand—she must see that canceling the ditter is not an option. If the gods’ frustration were to be directed at Yurgenschmidt, as Zent she would undoubtedly be affected as well.

“Zent Eglantine,” I began, carefully choosing my words, “as has been revealed through the joint research with Ehrenfest, ditter is a type of ritual that includes prayers to the gods both before and after the match. The male gods, it seems, look forward to those prayers—and the God of Stars, Sterrat, stated that they are growing frustrated with those trying to interfere with or cancel ditter.”

“I see…” she replied with a nod.

But her gesture felt more like polite acknowledgment than true agreement—she had heard what I said, but she wasn’t yet convinced.

“If the male gods are merely irritated,” she continued, “and the consequence is only that the individual who canceled the ditter becomes disliked by the gods… then surely Yurgenschmidt itself won’t be affected, will it?”

Her words were so completely unexpected that I was momentarily speechless.

…Eh? Um… Is that really not a problem?

“Did the gods say that canceling the ditter would destroy Yurgenschmidt? Or that history would vanish?”

“No,” I admitted slowly. “They only said… that the male gods are growing irritated…”

When I relayed the words of Sterrat, as accurately as I could, she declared without hesitation, “If their irritation is directed only at an individual, then that is acceptable.”

“Um… I’ve heard that when the gods take action, the consequences can be quite severe. Are you certain this won’t become a problem?”

“The gods have no intention of erasing Yurgenschmidt,” she replied calmly. “And when they go too far, they tend to compensate in some way. They were even lenient enough to overlook Lord Ferdinand’s irreverence, weren’t they?”

…At this point, I truly couldn’t understand the Zent’s standards for judging divine involvement.

“If the ditter is canceled, and the blame falls only on an individual,” she continued with calm conviction, “then it’s not a serious concern. In fact, without the bride-stealing ditter—which carries the risk of death—we won’t lose valuable people. The land won’t suffer damage from the fighting either. It would mean fewer duchies falling into hardship. If everything can be resolved through political negotiation instead, wouldn’t that be far more peaceful?”

She calmly listed the benefits of canceling the bride-stealing ditter. She showed no particular concern over the idea of the male gods directing their irritation toward Lord Sigiswald, who seems to be behind the cancellation scheme.

At the same time, she appeared prepared to accept that if Dunkelfelger were to lose in political negotiation—and if that loss led to me marrying into Korinthsdaum—then so be it. That, too, would be part of a peaceful resolution in her eyes.

…After all, Lady Eglantine became Zent through political maneuvering, standing at the center of such negotiations in order to protect Yurgenschmidt. It’s only natural she would see things from that perspective.

But I could not accept her viewpoint. Dunkelfelger had already resolved to reject Lord Sigiswald’s proposal through the bride-stealing ditter.

I smiled politely and nodded. “Yes, indeed.”

Just like she had earlier, I acknowledged that I had heard her opinion—but I did not agree with it.

”…Political marriages are only natural among nobles, so if things can be settled through discussion, I do believe that would be ideal. However,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, “a god who has lost their divine authority can no longer bestow blessings.”

Had Lord Sigiswald been able to offer something beyond the faded prestige of the former royalty, perhaps there might have been a path to negotiation. But a political marriage where neither party can present clear benefit? That’s simply unthinkable.

“What kind of benefits one can offer,” I continued calmly, “is, I believe, part of political discourse itself. …Though that is merely my personal opinion—I’m not asking you to agree with it.”

As Lady Eglantine continued to insist that victory through negotiation was still possible if Dunkelfelger simply secured favorable terms, I quietly let out a small sigh.

“If a single archduke candidate might be harmed to ensure the cancellation of the bride-stealing ditter,” I asked gently, “what is the Zent’s stance on that?”

“Ah yes, you mentioned requesting Lord Ortwin’s protection…” Lady Eglantine responded calmly. “However I can take no action. It is only natural that those who wish to cancel the ditter and those who wish to prevent that would each move according to their interests. I will simply observe the outcome. I will not side with either party.”

She had made it clear: whether the bride-stealing ditter was canceled or carried out, she would not intervene. While she personally believed peace might be better served by its cancellation, she had no intention of acting to support or prevent either outcome.

“I’ve already spoken to students from every duchy about the ditter,” she said quietly, “as someone entrusted with encouraging withdrawals. I’ve heard that the succession struggle within Drewanchel is particularly fierce… But even if something were to happen to Lord Ortwin and Drewanchel requested to withdraw, I would not be in a position to forbid it.”

I caught my breath at her words—subtle, but telling. The Zent was already aware that the succession struggle within Drewanchel had intensified.

“Whether it concerns Lord Ortwin, Lord Sigiswald, or even Dunkelfelger,” she continued evenly, “I believe that as the one overseeing all, I must not show favoritism to any one duchy or individual. Don’t you agree?”

”…I do,” I replied softly.

It was an extremely fair stance for a ruler to take. And yet, it made one thing absolutely clear: no matter how chaotic things became within Drewanchel’s dormitory, the Zent would not offer Lord Ortwin any protection.

…If it’s only natural for those who wish to cancel the ditter and those who wish to prevent its cancellation to act according to their interests…

“Then, Zent Eglantine,” I said quietly, “that means you will not stop Dunkelfelger from taking action to ensure the bride-stealing ditter is held—correct?”

“Correct,” she replied with a soft chuckle. “I don’t believe I could stop Dunkelfelger even if I tried.”

Then, with a small smile, she added, “And… this is just a personal opinion, but I can understand, from experience, why you wouldn’t wish to be bound to Lord Sigiswald. I have no intention of stopping you from rejecting him and pursuing the future you truly desire. In fact… I hope you succeed in claiming that future for yourself.”

It seemed the Zent held both feelings within her—a desire for peace through the ditter’s cancellation, and genuine support for my determination to see it through.

“I understand your position, Zent Eglantine,” I said softly.

For Dunkelfelger, I can say with certainty that having the bride-stealing ditter canceled would cause far more trouble in the long run. More than anything, I do not wish to marry Lord Sigiswald—and so I intend to resist with everything I have.

…Even if the land of the Royal Academy is scarred… even if members of enemy archducal families or their knights fall in battle… I will see the bride-stealing ditter held, and I will seize the future I desire.