Chapter 360
Chapter 360
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 360
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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“Why?”
Pleroma looking for me? Not anywhere else, but the leadership?
Mecklenburg fell silent at my muttered words. Who wouldn’t know why my name had come up among them? He gazed at me with unblinking eyes. Gone was the arrogant, leisurely smile he’d cultivated over a lifetime among elites, the cheeks stiffened by inferiority, the tense expression he often wore before Nikolaus. Wordlessly, lips pressed tight, he regarded me with dry pity.
“…….”
My dazed mind cleared at that look. His pity forced me to confront my position as a Pleroma. Even as my exhaustion layered into a cold glare aimed the wrong way, he showed no reaction. As if to say he understood why I’d react that way, I turned my head. Mecklenburg’s voice followed.
“Even so, you won’t be the negotiating party. The Empire has no intention of selling you out. Since we can’t send you alone, Excellency Albertina von Hohenzollern and I will join as well.”
“If not the negotiating party, then?”
“You’ll participate as an observer.”
“…….”
It would be absurd for the Empire to grant every demand from the other side. Right now, they’d weighed the pros and cons sufficiently and judged it feasible to summon me as an observer. Even if they’d demanded Adelbert’s presence, the Empire wouldn’t have kicked over the table for that. But something outrageous like ‘hand over the crown prince’ would change everything. Such basic matters, too obvious to warrant further thought, wouldn’t clutter my mind going forward.
Right, back to the point. It was decided, nothing to change now, and as I could easily guess, seeking out Abraham in this situation held little meaning. For me, it was easier to respond when they revealed their intentions right in front of me rather than working behind the scenes. I shrugged with a smile.
“I see the reason. To single me out like this.”
“…….”
I forced a wry twist of my lips and spoke lightly, but my nonchalance didn’t land. Mecklenburg was more serious than usual. He’d already guessed Adrian Ascanien was tied somehow to the rumors about me as a Pleroma, so that must be why he was showing needless concern now. I schooled my expression and replied.
“What could it be.”
“Indeed.”
Mecklenburg finally gave a short response. As heavy silence stretched, he changed the subject.
“…As you’ll see in the letter I gave you earlier, I was a bit worried when I heard you couldn’t hear. How did you converse with me this afternoon? And the treatment—how did that work?”
“There are ways.”
“…I figured you wouldn’t answer. So, you sparred right after the treatment?”
“Something like that.”
“Inside a building?”
Mecklenburg began pressing like an interrogator. It must have sounded ridiculous. I decided to dodge a bit logically.
“To be precise, the training hall is a building too, Senior.”
“No, you just came from the Crown Prince’s Palace. You sparred in a room?”
“It sounds absurd, but there are ways to make it happen.”
“If you know how, then say something that makes sense.”
“Why are you so curious? Just say I sparred with my squad leader friend. Don’t act like you’ve never kicked a ball in a classroom.”
“Kicked what in a classroom?!”
Boom—!
The stealth spell shattered under an external attack. As I crouched into a guard with my left arm and Mecklenburg swung his wand, the figure standing at the end of the corridor—arms crossed, garden and dawn-starlit lake at his back—flicked his wand too. Two differently colored spells clashed in midair, booming and scattering.
“I’m not sure how long I have to listen to this.”
Leo stood at the corridor’s end, face stern. He gave Mecklenburg a faint smile. Mecklenburg quickly returned to his usual mild expression to greet him. Leo dismissed his guards behind him and approached, murmuring quietly to me.
“Delphinium?”
“…….”
I’d wondered what he meant—it was the bottle I’d dumped over my face earlier while washing. Sorry about your delphinium, but if you hadn’t gone too far and kept dripping blood, I wouldn’t have used delphinium-soaked water to wash my face. Fortunately, Leo turned to Mecklenburg before my glare turned icy.
“I didn’t expect to see you again here. You must be tired, yet what brings you here so late?”
“To deliver orders.”
“Isn’t that not Your Excellency Mecklenburg’s duty?”
“For a matter like this, I thought it best to deliver personally. Is there something displeasing?”
“I’m honored. The gravity of the matter concerns me.”
Mecklenburg nodded at those words and extended the orders he’d shown me toward Leo.
“Pleroma requested negotiations and demanded Lord Ascanien’s presence there.”
* * *
“Hear me?”
“Yeah.”
I gave Leo a curt reply to his question. We were en route to the negotiation site. The 91st Class Representative, Mecklenburg, Narke, Leo, and I—all observers.
Leo’s attempt to feed me more blood rang hollow; after that final mess, my hearing had persisted over a day and still held now.
‘…Better to drink as little blood as possible.’
Given my abilities, blood could make me stronger than anyone, but everyone has their personal bottom line as a human they want to hold. I still didn’t know whose blood I’d drunk, but Leo’s mana had lingered sharply in my mouth regardless, and I wanted no more.
Mecklenburg, wearing similar attire but with the 98th batch’s navy tie, glanced back at us and matched my pace. He cast a soundproof spell and spoke quietly.
“Truth be told, this wasn’t the final official schedule I mentioned to you.”
“Then?”
“Our goal was scouting the next operation site. Didn’t you object to entering Munich-Freising before? Since we revealed our tactics to Pleroma via Munich-Freising this time, we need to choose the next diocese even more carefully.”
So that’s why HQ needed my abilities. I smiled. Bringing up my powers to ease tension—classic topic choice for him. Today, Mecklenburg didn’t try distancing himself, showing displeasure, or acting awkward. He knew I knew his humanity was rotten, and he knew I knew that, yet here he was playing the mature adult, considering my feelings. Whether he realized that awkwardness proved the situation’s difficulty, who could say. I nodded and replied.
“No point reminiscing now.”
“True. So, extending your sick leave and heading to Neustrelitz?”
Spring’s dry wind brushed my face. I could tell immediately it was an attempt to reassure me that nothing would happen today. I smiled and said I’d think about it.
“From the Prime Minister, Your Excellency.”
The negotiation site was a reception hall in the Imperial Palace. As we took seats behind the table and along the room’s sides, the Imperial Prime Minister, his aides, ministers, and vice-ministers arrived. We members of the Imperial Royal Mages’ Association stood to greet them. The Prime Minister scanned the empty opposing seats with displeasure and muttered.
“The other side hasn’t arrived yet.”
“…….”
Waiting on those not even equals must grate. But assuming inequality was inertial arrogance. The Empire responding to these cultists’ negotiation request meant the scales were nearly balanced or tipped ever so slightly one way.
Tension hung starkly. The day to face Pleroma directly. Not descending into their world, not meeting captured Pleroma fragments. They appeared as diplomatic envoys to the Empire. These fringes-born cultists had risen to parley equally with the Imperial government. It had started that way from 1898’s outset.
Then a Foreign Ministry official entered, face pale.
“Your Excellency Prime Minister. The Pleroma diplomatic delegation has arrived in the lobby. Security checks took time; they’re now entering the palace.”
My eyes met Leo’s. Officials and mages around the table stiffened rigidly. The Prime Minister replied solemnly.
“Have them enter now.”
“I’ll relay the order.”
How much time passed after that? Moments of utter silence followed, not even an ant’s chirp. The quiet transmitted even the floor’s faint vibrations. Then, footsteps sounded at the door.
Creak—
“Fresh.”
The raspy, inhuman voice drew all stiffened faces toward him. It was shocking enough. A diminutive old hominid with neatly combed white hair entered, leading bishops and monsignors. A long knife scar slashed one eyelid.
“…….”
Pleroma as diplomatic envoys—partners to negotiate with as equals, not enemies to slay on sight. Everyone here met leadership Pleroma for the first time. Deep wrinkles and gravity-sagged skin evoked transcendent benevolence, yet sternness too. Violet scent wafted with each swaying cassock hem. Without the oddly shaped cross at his neck, no one would peg him as Pleroma. As monsignors pulled his chair, the elder stood before the table, speaking slowly in an overwhelming timbre.
“As a proud member of the German Empire, I am endlessly overjoyed to meet the Empire’s holy ones. I am Lilli Levenro.”
His voice curved unexpectedly, lingering, drawing minds inexorably. When he finished, a strange anticipation and tension lingered, as if he might say more. As all eyes stayed fixed, the Imperial Prime Minister rose to shake his hand.
“Gertrud Rausch. Please, sit.”
This was a different Prime Minister from before. Post-Pentaron, most government officials had been purged. The elder smiled at her and sat.
‘…Most Pleroma retain youthful appearances.’
As seen in Operation Corvignano, some took elder forms, but usually 20s-30s faces. For leadership gravitas? It worked. His entrance spiked tension breathless. The Prime Minister spoke at once.
“Before we begin, we haven’t heard details on your positions and duties. Thus, we’d like explanations on Your Excellency Levenro and those beside you.”
“Indeed. This monumental moment when Pleroma leadership stands before the Empire arrives today. I feel it anew.”
The self-introduced Lilli Levenro smiled and continued in his distinctive voice.
“Very well. I am the Brandenburg Provincial Bishop. Here sits Olaf Spess, Provincial Bishop of Munich-Freising. The rest, given opportunity, later.”
“…….”
A province oversaw multiple dioceses; provincial bishops usually held the metropolitan see. We’d killed Brandenburg’s archbishop—the provincial bishop—yet this elder claimed the title. We held tongues at his slippery words. The Prime Minister stared impassively; the elder, as if anticipated, spoke.
“Worry not. I am distinct from the martyred Brandenburg Metropolitan Archbishop. In our Pleroma, archbishops do not double as provincial bishops. And as pre-agreed in writing, I come today in Pleroma’s name for these talks. Promises with me extend beyond Brandenburg Province—to Pleroma itself.”
He swiftly grasped the question’s intent, paused to survey us all, then continued.
“We know Pleroma holds no credit from the Empire’s view, nor ready negotiation standing. Thus, we deeply thank you for readily arranging this. We take not the Empire’s goodwill lightly; on good faith, we pledge to sustain today’s compromises in Pleroma’s name.”
Goodwill. They flatter us, but reality differs. The Empire, missing its chance and half-losing control over Pleroma, had ample incentive to accept. Today’s talks signaled recognizing Pleroma as sovereign stakeholder—both aware. Yet whether acknowledged or not, with Pleroma’s might already swaying the Empire profoundly, refusing from worry was mere pride; thus the Empire accepted—not from the goodwill they now praised. Success or failure, holding talks gave the Empire pretext of striving for subjects’ safety and peace—no reason to refuse.
The Prime Minister nodded.
“Very well. First, the Empire’s demands. We seek Pleroma Church’s full dissolution and swift absorption into the Empire.”
“Heh heh heh…”
The elder chuckled, nodding. Alone laughing amid stone-faced Imperials, ministers’ expressions hardened.
With vast positional gaps and no shared basis, talks can’t succeed. Thus, general prediction: no meaningful discussion on fundamentals like ‘dissolve Pleroma Church’ today. The Prime Minister’s opener stressed baseline stance, not true compromise. She waited with faint smile as the elder delayed. Gesturing, she pressed.
“Surrender to the Empire now, and we’ll preserve your prior statuses. You keep wealth and honor while contributing to German prosperity.”
“Hmm.”
Generous terms. Common negotiation ploy—naturally, one can’t say mid-talks ‘we’ll exterminate you upon dissolution,’ however eloquently phrased. No one among us was surprised. Naively taking it at face value? None. All foresaw clauses stacking atop this ‘generous offer,’ ultimately disadvantaging Pleroma. The elder, briefly impressed, nodded and spoke.
“We are profoundly grateful for the Empire and Your Excellency’s magnanimity. We know well the troubles Pleroma inflicted. Yet as fellow kin, you show mercy to subjects. May Lord Jesus Christ’s grace be upon the Empire.”
“…….”
“But that demands betraying Christ for us. We are fundamentally a religious body.”
A chill ran down my spine. Cold sweat might follow soon. The room’s atmosphere plummeted frigidly—not from anything else. Heresy’s double strike hardened our side’s faces. Protestant, Catholic, whatever—most here were Christians; this was outrageous.
“We know our Brandenburg Archdiocese wronged the Special Operations Command’s precious Imperial mages. We admit cleanly what’s to admit. Our leadership heard naught beforehand; ’twas inhuman unilateralism by Brandenburg Archdiocese. As Provincial Bishop, I acknowledge the error and deeply apologize to those involved.”
The bishop and monsignors beside nodded in agreement.
“Moreover, Pleroma clearly recognizes the grave unrest Brandenburg’s fault inflicted on the Empire; thus, we understand the Munich-Freising raid’s motives.”
Shock flickered over nearby officials’ faces. Even the Prime Minister’s brow furrowed faintly as she eyed him.
Two dioceses vanished in a flash, and they’d accept it magnanimously?
“…….”
Barring Ainsidel cases, most bishops showed no grief at fellows’ deaths. The last bishop I met smirked lies for time despite knowing only he and one remained. Priests or monsignors aside, Pleroma bishops and above lacked humanity. From their view: useless dioceses crumbling under Empire blows? No great loss.
‘Hmph.’
Amusing. Absurd nonsense.
In enemy diplomacy, one always scrapes every card to assail. Personally glad or indifferent at ‘incompetent’ fellows’ deaths, internal and diplomatic must divide. Diplomatically, clear loss and violation—Pleroma could demand reparations. Standard expectation. Yet they took unnatural stance: ‘We get why you killed them.’ Unnatural responses always have motives.
‘Wonder what theirs is.’
Prime hypothesis: demanding fitting reparations for two dioceses risks Empire counter-demanding costs protecting subjects from Pleroma threats—so they yielded. Even so, proactively waiving rights rather than slyly dodging was startling; requesting this first, they clearly envisioned something.
Merely to halt further diocesan destruction? Block our next Munich-Freising target? Next clash would drag brutally for us. They’d grasped our tactics, would unite; we’d face united Pleroma, resetting strategies. With no victor yet—Pleroma holding more odds—blind retreat ill-fit them.
The Prime Minister opted silence. Sans logical words, she sternly eyed Pleroma like scolding children. The elder gazed mildly at her. Munich-Freising Provincial Bishop beside him spoke.
“Our nation faces dire international straits. As Empire members, our wish to aid the fatherland endures. Thus, Pleroma first demands: lift punishments and restrictions on Pleroma missionary work.”
As the Prime Minister clasped hands silently, the elder spoke anew.
“Do so, and horrors the Empire now labels rampages, grave-robbing, kidnappings cease. Next-generation Pleroma will stand on Empire soil, loyal fine mages to the Empire.”
“Stand on Empire soil, loyal to the Empire…”
The Prime Minister nodded with chill smile.
“Intriguing words. Can children indoctrinated in Pleroma thought truly be loyal to the Empire? Wraiths wielding pitch-black mana, surviving on animal and human blood—such undead fit to safeguard the Empire?”
“Doesn’t Your Excellency have precedent behind you?”
The elder’s words froze the Prime Minister’s smile.
“…….”
I met myriad blue eyes turning my way. Defying rumors of Pleroma red eyes, the provincial bishop elder—ice-blue eyed—addressed me warmly.
“Even more striking eyes than I imagined. No one disputes Lord Ascanien’s feats resolving Pentaron terror and crippling two archdioceses. Even Pleroma must acknowledge his prowess.”
The elder’s words twisted eerily, machine-like. His gaze shifted smoothly from me—seated right behind the Prime Minister—to her. Bone-chilling words flowed from smiling lips.
“As you know, isn’t the Empire thoroughly shielded from Pleroma by a single Pleroma? What, then, do you fear?”