Chapter 345
Chapter 345
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 345
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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Someone who should be in the Osnabrück diocese was in Munich-Freising? Why? You're supposed to be in northern Germany—why are you in the south? No matter how I looked at it, that face was the same one I'd seen back then. That utterly empty face devoid of any humanity, those features that felt strangely familiar yet like I'd never laid eyes on them before—how could I, or anyone, forget them? Why would the you from 1891 say my face looked familiar? You weren't supposed to meet me until the fall of 1897.
Ainsidel's blue eyes pinned me down. Pushing aside the fog of countless questions clouding my mind, my gaze traveled from the mage's face to his shoulder, then down his arm to his leg. The feel of boot heels under the table pressed against my fingers, followed by a surge of bone-crushing malice. My left fingers went numb, and I deliberately curled my hand.
"Brother?"
The priest turned to me. I felt like I was rising from underwater as I forced my frozen lips into a smile.
"Where should we sit?"
"Right here."
The priest pointed to an empty spot at the white table. Somehow sensing something off about me, Mecklenburg grabbed my shoulder.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone I know is here."
"...What?!"
I'd felt it during the Maria Österreichische too, but the system's spacetime settings weren't random. The system wanted me to know something while also not wanting me to know it. So it was time to think. Bishop Ainsidel had joined Pleroma seven years ago at this time, and before becoming the bishop of Osnabrück, he'd been a prospective member in Munich-Freising. Why?
Even accounting for Pleroma's heretical rubber-band flexibility where they bent rules as they pleased, people usually—and logically—joined the diocese in their home region first. To avoid issues stemming from the ambiguity of the word Junker—which in the narrow sense meant East Prussian landowners but encompassed broader regional-political meanings—I now precisely considered where the main line of the Ainsidel family was based. Their direct line was in the Kingdom of Saxony, and like the ruling family and nobles of the pro-Prussian Duchy of Anhalt, the main Ainsidels' activities were mostly in Prussia, so they had a direct residence in Brandenburg too. The collateral lines had long been established in Brandenburg. Therefore, if an Ainsidel joined Pleroma, they ought to enter the Dresden diocese in the Kingdom of Saxony or the Brandenburg archdiocese in the Kingdom of Prussia—not the imperial northwest's Osnabrück diocese or the southern Munich-Freising archdiocese. Incomprehensibly, this bishop was operating in no-man's-lands both now, seven years ago, and seven years from now. If it had only been Osnabrück, I might have let it slide, but another region too.
'Considering the Junker class, no matter how I think about it, this man should belong to the Brandenburg archdiocese....'
Why had he come to Munich-Freising, bypassing Brandenburg? Let me recall what I knew about Munich-Freising. Before Pentaron, the Pleroma Brandenburg archdiocese federal councilor I'd interrogated had said their diocese was in competition with Munich-Freising. That was the end of useful info. My knowledge of Munich-Freising was seriously lacking.
"It's perfect timing—you've arrived on a day with a very important lesson, and we're thrilled to have a new prospective member like you. Please introduce yourself briefly."
A solemn voice came from the priest at the podium. At his request, I stood, smiled, and greeted them.
"I'm Emil Abel from Austria-Hungary. This is my attendant, Clemens Schmidt."
"...!"
Mecklenburg whipped his head around at the unconsulted attendant role. But no one in the room questioned it, despite his protest. I turned my gaze back to Ainsidel.
"Very well. Let's begin right away. Yesterday, we covered the voice of the one crying in the wilderness for an hour. Shall we pick up from where we left off? 'I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I....' Who is this 'one who comes after me'? Do you remember Malachi 3:1?"
Ainsidel stared at me for a long while before turning his head. After that, he never looked at me again.
* * *
"You said my face looked familiar. Have we met before?"
I couldn't just let him go like this. After the session ended and I'd sent Mecklenburg elsewhere, I approached the tall mage. His attire was somewhat disheveled, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Ainsidel regarded me for a moment before giving a curt reply.
"No idea."
He brushed past me as if uninterested.
His attitude made me pause. This man was different from the one I knew. That person wrapped near-murderous malice in smiles, not dismissing everything with a blank expression like this. Of course, his reactions might vary based on the opponent's value, which would mean that even if my face rang a bell, he didn't know exactly who I was. He might have just seen someone he knew superimposed on me. I called out to his white hair.
"What's your name? We met like this—must be fate."
Ainsidel stopped and turned. His pure white robe fluttered. He stared at me intently before murmuring.
"Ain."
The same response as our first meeting. The only difference was the lack of a smile this time. I nodded without pressing.
"I see. I'm Emil Abel."
"......"
"Why did you come to Munich-Freising? I heard you're a Junker."
The Junkers were Prussia's military backbone, pillars of Prussian militarism and conservatism. No reason for them to come to liberal Bavaria.
"And you—shouldn't you be in Austria-Hungary? Why are you here?"
"There's no group like this there."
"Ah. Right."
Ainsidel replied in a soul-less, flat tone.
"So what brought you all the way here? And your accent is far from Austro-Bavarian—why claim you're from Austria-Hungary?"
"Place of origin is Berlin."
"Same boat."
Ainsidel burst into laughter and shrugged.
"What do you mean?"
"You and I have both wandered through many places—what's there to be curious about? How different could your reasons be from mine?"
Listening to Ainsidel's languid voice felt like hearing hypnosis distilled into sound. As I felt drawn into the transparent irises of his profile, he continued.
"What brought you here is obvious. Immortality.... I can't fathom why anyone would chase misfortune like that."
I had a gut feeling. I needed to respond carefully. I considered the myriad possibilities swirling in my head and slowly spoke. It contradicted the lie I'd used to enter this place earlier.
"I have no intention of living forever. What meaning would immortality have in a world where everything's gone and I'm left alone?"
Only then did Ainsidel raise an eyebrow, widen his previously slack eyes, and chuckle as if amused. For a fleeting moment, Elias flashed across his face, and I had to work not to stiffen. The laughter was brief; Ainsidel turned and vanished.
"......"
I started to say something to him but slowly closed my mouth. The air filling my lungs and lingering on my clothes felt chillingly laced with unfamiliar magic.
Fine.
Clinging to the bizarre wouldn't help. I went to find Mecklenburg and exited Pleroma's world. Getting out was no problem.
"Let go, would you...."
I snapped irritably, glaring at the empty alley. The moment we stepped outside, Mecklenburg had bound my hands with magic and pinned me to the wall. Did the Imperial Second Academy train high schoolers as cops now...? It hadn't been like that in my time. Even twisting my head as far as possible, I felt the bricks scrape my cheek as I opened my mouth again. That's when Mecklenburg cut me off coldly.
"What did you mean, someone you know is there?"
"Sorry, but put up a soundproof spell first. Not talking here...."
Soundproof spell, my ass. No need. Might even be better without it. I uttered the insincere words, but they spurred him on harder, cutting off midway.
"Why do you know someone in a Munich heresy group? And what the hell have you been up to that you're so damn good at this?"
"......"
"Speak. You clearly aren't new to this shit."
"Not planning to drag me off anymore? Your face says you were just gonna hand me to the cops."
"Speak!"
"Fine. This isn't my first rodeo, Albert."
My soft reply momentarily shattered his composure. He might think it's weird to say it like that, but I had no intention of lying to him.
"I said I wanted to get stronger. Sorry. I didn't come to get stronger. I came to topple the Munich-Freising archdiocese."
"......"
The thunderbolt statement weakened the magic binding my hands. I yanked them free forcefully, whirled on Mecklenburg, stomped to cast a soundproof spell, and calmly spoke.
"Whether it's the priests here, the deacons, or the prospective members—any of them will eventually harm people I know."
You too. I said it straight, staring into the eyes of Albert Mecklenburg from seven years ago. He blinked rapidly in confusion.
Seven years would change Munich-Freising's structure a lot, but that's why starting from the bottom now was useful. The believers, deacons, and priests standing out now would rise to at least monsignor in seven years.
"I know now that there's a limit to what I can change with my own power. This is already set in stone. I came to learn how to deal with the Munich-Freising diocese before they come for us, and I have to fight them now. That's all I can explain to you."
"What are you talking about? Grave robbers harming us? ...Yeah, heresies like this recruiting and abusing followers has happened historically often. Not saying it's right, but honestly, it's rare for them to mess with nobles. Where'd you hear that info...."
"They're not just grave robbers."
"Of course not! They spout shit like reviving the dead or getting stronger by drinking blood for years. Among all the heresies in our country, they might be the ugliest and most apostate."
Could "ugly and apostate" explain it? His hollow ongoing words left me laughing emptily. Yeah, that's how you'd see it. Pleroma was still at that level until the summer of 1897, so you're right. If things went as I read, at least until 1907.
"Albert. I didn't come here lightly. I don't know how you'll take it, but my goal was the truth. I'll fight here, find countermeasures, and go back."
"......"
Mecklenburg scowled and worked his mouth. He thought it nonsense but was visibly confused. I opened the carrier rolling on the ground from his shove, pulled out an artifact. Among the many the system provided, there was a portable portal generator—like the school's, once equipped, it wouldn't come off. Illegal, but survival first. I slipped it onto the wrist of the gaping Mecklenburg.
"Sorry for dragging you this far. Take it—if shit hits the fan, get out immediately. I rigged the bathroom earlier; this'll send you straight to Munich station."
"Why give me this?"
"I don't want you to die. Even if your ethics are backwards for our era and you're twisted enough to cause disaster somewhere, I don't want you dying pointlessly to group greed here."
"...What the hell did I ever do to you to make you talk like this.... Let me ask precisely. Do you hate me? Then why do all this for me?"
I've seen too much of you already. Your existence being suited to oppose Adrian Ascanien is useless in this world. So, even for a fleeting relationship in a world that vanishes when I wake—even one that brings no long-term gain—I couldn't say I didn't care what happened to you.
I said nothing else, not even that. I knew how it'd sound. After staring at me for a long time, Mecklenburg nodded, so I grinned and clapped his shoulder.
"You believe me? No reporting now~?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I've never seen anyone act this insanely, and I don't know how to handle someone like you. But...."
"But?"
"Don't mimic me! ...Still, I...."
Mecklenburg hesitated long, then looked away.
"I feel relieved hearing you out. I want to believe my guess is right."
"...Whoa."
I was briefly stunned, murmuring without thinking. As he glared, I replied earnestly.
"Not joking. Just surprised. Thanks."
"Whatever. And what I've wanted to say since earlier—who made you the master?!"
"Oh, that. Looking forward to it, Clemens."
"You think that flies? Status-wise, you should be my attendant—what the hell?"
"We're friends."
"So what?! Masters and attendants can't be friends?!"
"Switching roles once in a while ain't bad. Ah, I'll be under you forever anyway—cut me some slack this once."
Mecklenburg laughed dryly and turned.
"...First guy in my life to act like this—I'm flustered. Don't know how to take it...."
"Too bad. If there'd been someone like me, it might've covered for your personality...."
"What?"
"Nothing. Gotta find a place to crash now."
I looked at the purple sunset sky, thinking. Ah, wanna storm the crown prince's palace. Warp to the teacher room Lucas Everett got. That'd be game over, though. Smiling at the clearly conflicted Mecklenburg, I asked.
"No lodging your family booked in your name? They handled inspections too."
"...!"
* * *
Mecklenburg threw a fit about how all student council presidents were annoying—obvious from how one got dragged out—before entering Munich's best hotel.
The next dawn, we visited the factory owner's house and headed to the lesson site. That made five days. Outside the extra chapter, four hours had passed.
'Already four hours.'
A bit of cold sweat. Model students sleep model sleeps, I believe.
Next time in Bavaria, come as Leo Morget and stay at a hotel, I thought, committing the day's lessons to memory as I followed the education priest with Mecklenburg. I needed answers Ainsidel wouldn't give.
"Are there out-of-towners among the believers here? What cases bring them to foreign dioceses?"
"Cases.... Not sure. I'm from Freising, actually."
"Then why accept out-of-towners?"
"We're tiny compared to Catholics or Protestants."
"No contest."
"...Ahem, anyway, we welcome arrivals warmly. Especially if they're talented and devout—it greatly aids the diocese. No reason to refuse."
"I see. One curiosity: what's that Junker's reason for being here?"
"He's so taciturn, even I don't know. Seems deliberate. We're here already. Let's talk inside."
The priest opened his office door, gesturing amiably.
"Go ahead first."
"......"
So considerate, I'm touched. I stared at the priest's face, then smiled down at the floor. The oiled ebony floorboards trembled before my eyes. This meant one of my many hypotheses was spot-on, but now wasn't the time to dwell. As I stepped forward, that day's memory ended there.
I opened my eyes in darkness. Someone blocked my airway, forcing me awake.
'Again....'
How many times had I been transported like this with Mecklenburg? Whether expected or not, I secretly hoped it'd end today. This time with 18-year-old instead of 25-year-old Mecklenburg, but the situation was nauseating. The large hand over my nose and mouth lifted. Rushing air stabbed my nose with blood scent.
White hair caught my eye even in the dark. Hard-to-hear groans sounded. The blood smell thickened. Ainsidel murmured like a sigh.
"Not bad at all...."
"......"
He'd drunk Mecklenburg's blood. Why hadn't the idiot used the artifact to escape? I curled my fingers, feeling the restraint on my wrist. Classic Pleroma magic shackle. They'd used this model since seven years ago—shows how long they'd built their system.
"Why did you enter this place?"
Something tapped the floor. Eyes adjusting to the dark, I slowly turned to check Mecklenburg. Aside from wrist skin, no visible major injuries. Maintaining silence brought a pat reply.
"Won't talk, huh. Would've been disappointed if you did."
Ainsidel let out an inscrutable laugh. Then the door opened behind, two people entering. They sighed softly.
"Brother Ainsidel truly has exceptional ability. Good we caught these vile spies early."
"......"
"If we'd accepted them as believers...."
Ainsidel narrowed his eyes, smoothly curving his lips. Listening to the priest's lengthy speech, he finally exhaled long and looked up. Only then did the priests stop and look at him.
BOOM—!
—For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father's glory, and then he will repay everyone according to his deeds.
A soul-less voice chilled me as white light stabbed my retinas. Urgent wand-drawing sounds, then two impacts. I saw Mecklenburg's mouth open.
"Get up."
Amid the flashing red-blue world from the sudden light, a gloved hand extended to me. Ainsidel wore the same smile I'd seen in Osnabrück.
"You said you were going to topple this diocese."