Chapter 257
Chapter 257
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 257
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family (257)
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No matter how brilliant a general Hannibal had been, this could be seen as his second blunder.
“…….”
I let out a slow breath and pressed my brow bone. The dawn light filtering through the window pierced my eyes. Amid the strands of hair that had fallen over my face, the archbishop’s serious expression flickered into view.
“They want you in Osnabrück. The leadership is planning to use you as bait to lure out the Osnabrück bishop. Of course, they’ll dress it up so he doesn’t realize it’s a trap.”
His thin, composed voice echoed through the room.
My reply came out far rougher by comparison. My head ached too much for me to bother fabricating anything.
“I see.”
“Heike Ainsidel is on your team, isn’t she.”
I lifted only my eyes to look at him.
Talking about the Osnabrück diocese bishop Ainsidel, and now bringing up someone from the same family?
Whatever came next wouldn’t be good. I had a bad feeling about it.
“Are you close?”
“…….”
“You may or may not know this, but we Pleroma folk don’t understand the principles behind resurrection. All we know is that blood is involved in our resurrections and our powers. Nothing beyond that. We don’t grasp the true mechanism for bringing skeletons back to life or turning an aged elder into a youth. We simply chant the spells and borrow the power.”
“Hmm, I see.”
He shouldn’t take my response at face value. I’d already heard this from Abraham. I pretend to agree when I don’t, act like I know when I don’t, and play ignorant when I do. That’s how you have to handle things with Pleroma. Especially now that he’d abruptly shifted topics— I needed to be extra careful with my replies to brace for what came next.
“‘I will surely require a reckoning for your lifeblood: from every beast I will require it, and from every human and from every human’s brother I will require the life of that human.’”
“Genesis.”
“Yes. Leviticus says this too: ‘For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you upon the altar to make atonement for your souls; for it is the blood that makes atonement for the soul.’”
“…….”
“Blood is directly tied to our stories of life and origin, and the ability to wield it is the power to govern life and death.”
“So?”
The archbishop showed no sign of offense at my curt words. He smiled faintly, then smoothed it away and continued.
“The leadership possesses techniques we don’t have. More precisely, their individual unique abilities exceed our expectations. There’s someone with blood-related powers in our Pleroma leadership.”
“Certain?”
“They must have it. Otherwise, resurrecting people wouldn’t be possible.”
I nodded readily.
“The Osnabrück bishop’s unique ability is the same as Heike Ainsidel’s. Their features, height, aura... everything’s completely different—no resemblance at all—but at least their family name and unique ability prove the two are related. As you know, unique abilities are hereditary.”
They really are nothing alike.
Just looking at them, you’d never guess they were family. Different eye colors, hair colors, magical affinities, facial features, builds. They’re so dissimilar that even if they claimed blood ties, you’d be tempted not to believe it.
If Bishop Ainsidel was a distant collateral branch, it made sense that he wasn’t in the Ainsidel main family photo albums and didn’t resemble Heike at all. His massive mana reserves were concerning, but even collaterals could produce talents.
Come to think of it, Heike and he differed quite a bit in mana capacity.
“We investigated and found the Ainsidel family itself specializes in mental-affinity magic as their unique ability. Dig deeper, and more magicians with abilities like the bishop’s will turn up. But right now, we don’t have time.”
“So.”
“How about getting hold of Heike Ainsidel’s blood.”
Getting Heike’s blood.
Abraham’s words resurfaced. His proposal and words to me after the Eschet inauguration.
‘...Is this how it pulls me in.’
Whether by choice or force, the future where Heike falls into Pleroma’s path might begin just like this.
I was lucky to hear this now, but I couldn’t let my guard down. According to Abraham, his ability was exactly what Pleroma needed anyway. With their unique abilities matching, scheming like this was inevitable somewhere.
I’d asked my friends to protect Heike this time, but would they manage through day after day, sun after sun?
I kept my expression neutral and stared at him. He continued earnestly.
“Hand it to the leadership, and they might accomplish even more with it. Like detecting the life force of someone with the same unique ability.”
“No.”
I shook my head and pressed on.
“Don’t drag others into uncertain gambles.”
“...We have to try everything possible. If we don’t catch Bishop Ainsidel now, you’ll be the one caught.”
“Then let that happen.”
“…….”
The archbishop’s face darkened.
I held his gaze in a staring contest for a while before sighing first.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. What you’re saying is basically swap me out as the leadership’s primary target for Heike Ainsidel instead. Use her as bait.”
“Yes. Is now the time to quibble over hurting others?”
“Then you don’t quibble on your side? Unbelievable. Just recently, I saw you get injured because of me...”
I shook my head with a weary expression, signaling I’d drop it.
His attention had shifted elsewhere sooner than expected.
“Saw what?”
“…….”
Seeing the mischievous glint creeping into his eyes, I knew I couldn’t disappoint.
No—this was an opportunity.
I answered nonverbally instead. I didn’t care to dwell on how. My career being used like this was hitting me hard beyond words.
I ran a cool hand over my nape to quell the heat. I avoided looking directly, but his face, watching me, took on a subtle smile. He quickly composed himself and waited.
I stared at the floor, then took his hand.
“Don’t use methods that make me uncomfortable. Surviving that way isn’t satisfying.”
“…….”
‘I might need more meds...’
I had to brainwash myself that cameras were rolling and this was my fifth NG. Even though I’d never NGs five times from my own mistakes in life, I had to believe it.
“How did it feel, knowing I was hurt.”
“Still on that? You’re persistent.”
“Why? Tell me.”
“No.”
“Why~?”
‘Wait, this bas— this guy?’
He half-rose from his chair, leaning toward me. Instead of rude words, I scooted my chair back and shook my head.
“I’ll tell you later.”
But he didn’t let up and even stood to approach me.
It took 20 minutes to escape the situation.
“…….”
The problem was, while we’d moved past that topic, an even worse atmosphere had formed for some reason. Or rather, bad for me, good for the archbishop. I eyed him silently right in front of me. We’d just been talking animatedly, voices raised, but now an oppressively heavy silence hung between us.
This was why I didn’t want to share space with him.
Who decided to create this mood? I shoved him aside and bolted up, dashing out.
“Hey?! Ah, no, why?”
A puzzled laugh came from behind. True to form as a magician, he caught up at insane speed and grabbed me.
“Wait! Isn’t this overkill? What did I even do?”
“You must not know, but I have a bit of mysophobia, so being close to people...”
“You don’t.”
“Then assume I do.”
He let out a hollow laugh and shrugged. His eyes gradually turned serious again.
“This isn’t the time. What’s your plan?”
“For what.”
“If not that method, we have nothing right now.”
“…….”
“The leadership hunting you means your chances of going outside are even more completely blocked than before. To strike the Osnabrück bishop together, we’d have to lure him here—and that carries huge risks. Check the time; this coordinate system is unstable already.”
I stared at him silently.
He gave a defeated smile.
“...You won’t change your mind, huh.”
“Nope. You know me well.”
“Then we’ll go with the original plan. I’ll handle it somehow. I’ll seek your advice, but first, I’ll use my own resources. Starting with diverting the leadership’s attention.”
Before I could speak, he rushed on.
“No other answers accepted.”
“So, stay home.”
“Yes.”
He answered firmly.
“This isn’t your time to act. While I divert the leadership, you stay here. Fair warning: it might take me a day or two—or even just hours—but for you, it’ll feel much longer.”
“What do I do all that time? This is bewildering.”
“I’d love to move with you too. But you know what happens if you go out. Even you see there’s no method, right?”
I didn’t reply. He spoke in a subdued tone.
“If we’re not using Heike Ainsidel’s blood to switch targets, then this time...”
“…….”
“Listen to me.”
Stay put in this stalemate. Leave me in this suspicious servant Lou Barr’s grasp and this ghost-mansion-empty estate with just a library?
Of course, it was predictable. I knew he’d play it this way.
So far, I hadn’t been particularly friendly toward him.
Even as I desperately acted warm with all my might, it must’ve felt stiff to him.
If things flowed like this, time to change strategy.
I’d act even more convincingly from now on. Enough to fool even myself about what I wanted and knew.
“Fine.”
* * *
A day passed.
Outside, maybe two more hours.
‘...Now the fourth hour here...’
I’d spent 48 hours, while others had barely done four.
Assuming the archbishop was truthful, the terror cleanup wasn’t even done yet.
No—even if I lounged here a week, theirs would still be chaos. Less than a day passed there. The disconnect felt alien.
This place was too peaceful. Sunlight poured into the all-white hall. The archbishop sat on a sofa by the window, back to the light, far off, and asked while looking at me.
“Does the food here suit you?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“Not bored?”
“Who knows.”
“You look better in a necktie—why the ribbon tie at school?”
Why this out of nowhere?
Because the archbishop had summoned a tailor and clerk from a Pleroma world clothing shop. True to Pleroma’s closed nature, they were in the same space but couldn’t see us, hidden by a special barrier. Only his servant shuttled between barriers, relaying requests.
Anyway, I was trying on clothes he picked. He’d said he’d spend time with me before today’s investigation, and as resolved yesterday, I was accommodating him more diligently. I adjusted the navy necktie he pointed to and replied.
“My choice.”
At school, you can see I wore ribbons while Elias wore neckties—our school allows anything around the neck.
Truthfully, ribbons were Luca’s taste. More precisely, Luca picked them because he didn’t know how to tie neckties. Teaching him patiently wasn’t practical; servants handled essentials quickly when needed. No one lingered with Luca long otherwise, and he never asked to be taught.
I knew how to tie neckties but didn’t want to erase Luca’s traces.
The archbishop beckoned, and the servant brought more clothes. He watched me swap ties, then shook his head.
“Ah, but a cravat suits you even better. Your long neck fits a standing collar.”
“I see.”
“A brooch might be better too... You always dress so plainly.”
“Hmm.”
“The checked vest was a good pick. Patterns suit you. Right?”
“Who knows.”
“Are you listening?”
I shook my head.
Then told the archbishop, now right in front of me.
“Even if you tell me... I don’t care what suits me. Don’t care how I look to myself or others.”
“Just look good to me?”
“How does that follow?”
He grinned at my straight face and asked.
“So, you hate it?”
“...No.”
“Then?”
“Keep going. Nice chance to learn your tastes.”
I was glad it was winter. Summer, and he’d spot the goosebumps on my arms.
He beamed at my words. Then returned to the sofa, propped his chin, and said.
“Truth is, I don’t dress flashy in suits either. Solid patternless neckties... silk hats for outings, hmm. Too textbook? Or so I hear. But you pull off bolder looks well—love that.”
“…….”
I nearly clutched my nape. Fine otherwise, but spare me proof-he-has-multiple-bodies talk. I knew he had a newhuman body, and newhumans were culturally suit-savvy. Setting aside that ‘I hear’... it made sense, so I’d train not to flinch.
Anyway, before ditching everything and bolting, I managed to speak.
“Your dress is flashy too.”
“My secretary picked it all.”
“Picked?”
“Yes.”
I held out a hand to the servant.
“Catalog?”
“Yes? Oh, yes.”
As I browsed, the archbishop’s eyes widened. I picked a suitable outfit, showed the servant; he realized something, face dawning, held back a laugh.
He was misunderstanding—not jealousy. Just rebelling at being the only one subjected to this.
The archbishop, in my pick, stood before the mirror and said.
“Simple. Your taste?”
“Suits you.”
I gave another reply and sat on the sofa.
I cared as little about my clothes as others’. No room for tastes to form. I noted only his sky-blue outfit, quite modern unlike this era’s burdensome garb.
He seemed pleased enough. Excited, he stepped aside to fit us both in the mirror.
Luckily, he lost interest in endless changing, wrapped up purchases moderately, sent the clerk away. Then, smugly declared.
“Next batch, bespoke.”
New clothes soon? Custom? Nobles mostly did, sure...
I knew why now: for the engagement Lou Barr mentioned. As I managed my expression and chose words, he grabbed my arm.
“New clothes fitted—let’s rest a bit.”
“Again? No investigation?”
“A few hours here is just minutes outside. We can enjoy this stretch.”
“Outside’s no mood for rest, is it?”
Outside was storm-tossed, Pleroma world or my friends’. In time stretched to breaking, we alone in peace.
Precisely, he alone.
I’d felt it properly lately. He was actively using this time.
Even so, not unbearable. I’d chosen to accommodate him for reasons.
He grinned at me.
“That’s why we enjoy it.”
He led me out the mansion to a small building on the grounds. Purpose obvious. I read the sign above.
“A theater...”
“Don’t like plays? You’ve been on stage yourself.”
I looked down silently, mixing a deliberate smile into my blank face.
“Yeah, you know. Just mumbling.”
Memory of being alone in a theater with an enemy resurfaced.
That time, brother and Macbeth; now, [Iphigenia at Aulis]. Euripides’ ancient Greek tragedy.
No curtain up, private theater, no program—how’d I know? He’d just whispered it.
“Iphigenia at Aulis... Read it, but first live staging.”
“Yeah? Ancient Greek plays aren’t super popular. Still, they’re out there if you look.”
“I see. Like tragedies? Thought you’d pick comedy.”
He murmured at my question, eyes on the lighting stage.
“Yeah. Fun thinking how this tragedy could turn comedic.”
I nodded.
Drums sounded, curtain rose. Pinlit Greek soldiers in costume.
We sat front-center orchestra, but like before, they couldn’t see us.
Minutes in,
The archbishop rested his head on my shoulder. Wanted to ask what, but against my resolve, so no.
As the play dragged,
I spoke quietly.
“Know what? You look just like a Wittelsbach.”
“I know.”
He straightened, continuing as if anticipating more.
“You wanna ask why, but I can’t say much. Don’t know.”
Yeah, figures. Why would this info-withholding guy spill easily.
But no backing off. Ride the loose mood, dig more.
“Remember you said before? You have an ‘original form.’”
“Ah, right. I can shift my face to look like others. Don’t know why.”
Smooth talker.
I leaned toward him. Stage voices boomed.
“Then show me another form.”
“Now... no. Want to show you only my best.”
“Yeah? We differ. I want all your moments.”
“…….”
He smiled unblinking, staring intensely.
Eyes not dry? How does a human not blink that long? Nearly resolved to close them myself. Luckily, he spoke first.
“Some other mes wouldn’t know you well. Better stay ‘me’ to meet you.”
“Why wouldn’t they? All you.”
That wolf-dog senior at school recognized me in any form.
He laughed instead of answering. Gently cupped my cheeks, turned my head. Absurd, but intent clear.
Keep watching. We focused on the play after.
Not long, plot tight.
Greece preps Troy expedition, but no wind two years, ships stuck. Oracle demands Agamemnon sacrifice daughter Iphigenia to Artemis for winds.
Agamemnon torn between leader duty and fatherly love; brother Menelaus harshly condemns.
But Iphigenia accepts fate, goes to altar.
[Mycenae, my nurturer Mycenae. You raised me to be Greece’s light! I’ll die for you gladly!]
[Your glory will never fade.]
[O torch of the gods! Glorious light! I go to another world, another life! Now, at this moment... beloved light, farewell!]
[Behold! The maiden to the goddess’s altar! Troy falls, Phrygians to death! Behold her path!]
Modern eyes find it baffling. Sure, later a deer swaps in deus ex, softening tragedy, but feels like main ends here.
Archbishop, chin-propped, said.
“How many humans would really submit to sacrifice. Ancient Greeks frustrate—humans can’t escape fate there.”
I didn’t reply. He smiled and asked.
“What do you think. For Iphigenia at Aulis to be comedy, what should she do? Refuse sacrifice?”
“Well, fleeing best.”
“If not?”
“Tough. Comedy without fleeing.”
He eyed me eagerly.
I smiled faintly.
“Then willingly become the sacrifice. To the very last moment.”
* * *
Beeeep—
[Grab her!]
[She’s going right!]
Thud—
[Aaagh!]
Leo sat at the long conference table, gazing at the artifact held by the Bavarian Foreign Minister. Government and royal officials around the table listened silently to the voices from it.
Soon, sounds of people collapsing in heaps. Blunt thwacks like weapon strikes turned squelching. Surely flesh bursting, floor bloodied.
Prussian security police beating down protesters against the terror.
Leo pulled out illegal flyers gathered by informants from Prussia as he listened.
[What does the nation do? The royals? Our elected Imperial Diet?]
Such titled propaganda poured out indignant voices.
[What’s changed from ten years ago?! We remember Elsass-Lothringen! Did the nation plan to sacrifice subjects again? Is this a vassal’s fate? Who permitted Friedrich Hohenzollern to hold free men as vassals?]
Leo now picked up the Imperial News. Government article headlined boldly.
[Our enemy is Pleroma. Yet radicals stoking chaos aid the foe, rampaging via terror. Report security disruptors. Curfew waived for reporters. Righteous subjects are our empire’s benefactors.]
“His Majesty arrives.”
At the aide’s voice, Leo set down materials and stood. The king entered with a few aides.
“You’re here, Your Majesty.”
“Let’s begin.”
The king halted greetings and sat. Leo spoke standing.
“May I speak first?”
“Permitted.”
At the king’s curt reply, Leo began.
“Prussia blames Pleroma entirely for the terror’s root, highlighting their victimhood to barely fend off reputational drop. Continental opinion hasn’t soured worst yet, but Prussia remains isolated.”
Prussia politically isolated.
No Bavarian rejoiced at the words. Faces stiffened rigidly.
“You all know cornered states are most dangerous.”
“Yes.”
Some officials agreed.
“To dodge blame and criticism, the Hohenzollerns will ally with the Ascanien. And fully co-opt Lucas Ascanien into Hohenzollern fold.”
Leo continued to the nodding politicians.
“We permit the former, not the latter.”