Chapter 361
Chapter 361
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 361
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
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“…….”
I had anticipated they’d try to tie me to themselves somehow, and sure enough. It was astonishing.
Moreover, they knew. That I was the core of the command structure. That I was the linchpin of every operation to annihilate the Pleroma, and they were well aware of it.
‘…This is dangerous.’
Both for my own safety and for the Empire’s.
Of course, it was no longer the time to hide my existence and activities. Even if suspected of being Nicolaus, it didn’t matter. If it had been absolutely necessary to conceal them, I wouldn’t have come this far. I would have deliberately botched the exams and lived unobtrusively. High risk, high return was the norm now. To gain fame, one had to accept the commensurate dangers, and their current interest in me was just one such risk. Above all, even if I hadn’t been as active as I was, they would have kept constant watch on me simply for wearing the Pleroma label.
If there was anyone who would covet my social success first, it was the Pleroma. Not by anyone’s will or intent, but they could reap the benefits from me.
But unfortunately, I wasn’t Pleroma. Even if drinking blood could heal damaged areas and make one stronger than anyone else, I wasn’t like them. Our essences were different. I opened my mouth in a firm voice.
“I request permission to speak, begging your pardon for the rudeness.”
“Lord Ascanien is not Pleroma.”
A bold voice suddenly rang out.
I widened my eyes and turned my head. Mecklenburg had spoken without waiting for permission. Leo’s wide-open eyes turned toward him. Narke, seated to my right, also looked his way.
At that icy tone, the ministers’ gazes shifted to Mecklenburg. The old man looked at him silently before speaking.
“If it’s not too rude, I’d like to hear what His Excellency Mecklenburg has to say, Your Excellency Prime Minister.”
“No, I believe his earlier remark has fully conveyed his intent. Lord Ascanien is not Pleroma. He is not tainted by Pleroma ideology, has not drunk blood, and is more loyal to His Majesty and the fatherland than anyone.”
The Prime Minister concluded firmly. Receiving such an evaluation from none other than the Imperial Prime Minister brought back memories of last year, stirring complex emotions. The old man nodded with a serene expression.
“We Pleroma are also loyal subjects of His Majesty, desiring the preservation and peace of the German Empire.”
“Lord Ascanien poses no threat to the safety of the subjects.”
Mecklenburg cut in with a cold voice, immediately grasping the implication. Contrary to his tone, he maintained a composed expression as he continued.
“Millions of lives owe their survival to Lord Ascanien thus far. Does Your Excellency the Bishop understand the weight of that?”
“…….”
I had to desperately hide my surprise. What the hell did this guy eat…? That was my instantaneous thought. But I quickly inferred that his words were genuine.
From what I’d observed of Mecklenburg so far, he was fundamentally loyal to the Emperor and thus prioritized the values the Emperor publicly emphasized. So, unbelievably based on his past behavior, he valued the safety of the subjects. Here arose a problematic difference. The definition of “subjects” held by him and the pro-emperor politicians differed from mine. He “knew” that berserkers were victims of the Pleroma but regarded them as enemies to be executed because they spread berserk symptoms to other subjects and wasted national funds in the process. How shortsighted that judgment was had already been exposed in the prior discussion on firearm use, so he no longer opposed it outright, but that had been his thinking until then.
Returning to the point, his remarks about subjects’ safety were perfectly in line with his political leanings. However…
‘…This man is defending me?’
“Your Excellency. You are here as an observer.”
The Prime Minister checked Mecklenburg.
Defending me. With this personality of his? Ignoring the permission procedure? Even if we shared a common enemy in Adrian Ascanien, this was unlike him. Hadn’t he always worn that obnoxious smile, speaking softly only when absolutely necessary? I clearly remembered him dumping all orders on Deputy Commander Erich Reichenau and stepping back to play the good guy. Why…?
Unlike his curt words, had he actually liked Nicolaus from the start? Or was his sense of “we’re allies with a common enemy” stronger than I thought? Or was it simply strong antipathy toward Pleroma, and I was misinterpreting it as him defending me alone? My thoughts didn’t linger long. Soon, the old man’s raspy, distinctive voice flowed out.
“It is easy to walk the broad road and pass through the wide gate. Those who tread the narrow path are often met with misunderstanding. Even if it be God’s will.”
“…….”
My head was spinning.
I’d noticed it from when he used that detached phrasing about “horrific acts labeled as berserking, grave-robbing, and abduction by the Imperial government.” They believed their crimes were righteous. Or more precisely: the Empire labeled them crimes, but they saw them as salvation. We simply failed to understand God’s true will. This wasn’t mere heresy. The religious term “heresy” couldn’t explain their harm. They called themselves a religious group, but Pleroma was already an interest group. The diocesan bishop before me was no cleric but a businessman wearing an administrator’s face. Right? The atmosphere had already turned frigid.
“There’s no point elaborating here on how we truly seek the Empire and its subjects’ welfare. We knew our values differ from the Empire’s, and we didn’t come to persuade you otherwise. But allow one explanation.”
The old man’s gaze turned to me.
“Becoming Pleroma has nothing to do with ideology. Pleroma originated intact alone. Have you heard of those risen from the grave?”
“Lord Ascanien has never died.”
“Ah, admirable.”
No sooner had Mecklenburg’s rebuttal ended than a throat-clearing sound erupted. Mecklenburg’s mouth fell open and his brows furrowed at the attitude of dismissing the question like a child’s prattle. The statement was clear. Whether I colluded with Pleroma or not, endorsed their ideology or not, by their standards, I was unmistakably Pleroma.
At the sudden shift in atmosphere, I raised my head. The old man’s eyes were fixed on me. A chill reached me from the pressure emanating from his warm-faced self.
“I understand your objections, but one thing must be made clear. I do not recognize just anyone as Pleroma.”
The moment Mecklenburg grimaced and opened his mouth again, the Prime Minister gestured to the guards and shouted.
“That’s enough. Your Excellency is making statements unrelated to the negotiations. If you intend to continue irrelevant talk and unnecessary threats, we cannot entertain this further.”
A guard near the wall approached the bishop, who raised a hand as if to halt him. The safety restraints on his wrinkled skin gleamed. Since he’d shown anew that he had no intent to harm us, we couldn’t use force to restrain him if we wanted to keep this meeting going. The Prime Minister sharply waved off the guard.
As this was the first public encounter with Pleroma, the Empire would grant them ample speaking rights, separate from firmly stating its position. With every word from them becoming intelligence now, the Empire had agreed to negotiate partly to extract information through dialogue. But anyone could see they’d gone too far. In short: instead of giving combinable, inferable intelligence, they were sowing seeds of discord with propaganda.
“Lord Ascanien, you can only be Pleroma by heaven’s grace.”
Right. For example, Ascanien is Pleroma. He’s on our side while realizing your justice. The Empire’s peace is maintained by Pleroma. Don’t you know? The moment dragged on eternally as words continued. The Prime Minister and ministers hardened their expressions and opened their mouths with voices laden with protest. I smiled, and the diocesan bishop before me smiled too. Only the ensuing eerie voice burrowed into my ears.
“How could one so perfectly intact not be glorious?”
Beep—
A heavy silence descended. The world in my ears froze, yet before my eyes moved rapidly. My heart clenched. Here, of all places? At this moment? But one thing was certain. Whatever followed, I had no intention of giving clues. I rolled my eyes wide at the diocesan bishop’s gentle smile.
I saw Leo’s expression, who had been watching me, change utterly. The mana surrounding Leo’s core surged into mine like a tidal wave. No, it wasn’t surging in… My core was devouring Leo’s mana supplied by the artifact. Leo’s expression turned utterly perplexed, so I couldn’t miss it.
“…!”
Something cold seeped from my side, spreading along my spine. A hand from my right touched my skin. An unknown power climbed my neck, the hand containing it wrapped around the back of my head, tilting my body sideways. Perhaps supporting me. My head turned.
—“Let’s meet after you wake up.”
A calm voice imprinted in my mind. Before my eyes closed, the last things I saw were the panicked faces of those turning to me and Narke’s green ring against my cheek.
* * *
Mecklenburg felt his heart pounding.
One thing must be made clear. I do not recognize just anyone as Pleroma.
The diocesan bishop had dubbed Ascanien heaven-sent Pleroma, and it wasn’t the slur we imagined. It was recognition of ability, a glorious praise. Their highest accolade, but from Nicolaus Ernst’s standpoint, the worst insult.
No sooner had the Pleroma’s outburst ended than Ascanien’s body tilted, falling toward the Farnese family wizard seated beside him. Farnese hastily grabbed his head and shoulders, but Ascanien already appeared unconscious. Farnese looked up with a panicked face.
“In truth, Lord Ascanien’s condition has been poor, so he was to rest for a week starting the day before yesterday. It seems this meeting was too much for him.”
Farnese’s voice trembled at the end.
Too much for this meeting? It must be hard to sit silently through their insults, but he’d looked healthy? For Nicolaus Ernst of all people to feel burdened here seemed unlikely.
But… Before hearing he couldn’t hear sounds, Ascanien had shown his usual demeanor in conversation. Now I knew he’d been acting through the falsehood. So if he hadn’t shown it until now? Even Nicolaus Ernst couldn’t have been unaffected lifelong by the label he’d chased his whole life, and if he’d deemed it unbearable? If that emotion motivated creating the Nicolaus Ernst identity?
“…….”
Fine, I admit it. I’d already suspected as much. Perhaps that’s why I anticipated actions he wouldn’t normally take. Mecklenburg swallowed. The old man silently smiled at Ascanien, while the officials’ faces grew increasingly grim. They’d kept spewing irrelevancies, and now harm had come from it. The Prime Minister exhaled deeply, swallowed stiffly in his rigid posture, then questioned the diocesan bishop as the medics took Ascanien away.
“What do you think of this? Didn’t the Pleroma delegation come to negotiate today?”
“We had no plan to burden him, so it’s regrettable he collapsed from the shock. Returning to the point, we demand the right to raise wizards like Lord Ascanien on this earth to contribute to the Empire. But it seems we won’t agree on this.”
“Regulations on Pleroma missionary activities will continue. Even if Pleroma ceases illegal acts for missions, considering the harm your church has inflicted on the Empire, we cannot allow expansion of your forces. We will not compromise on crime.”
The Prime Minister immediately rejected the Pleroma demands. As expected, this negotiation would collapse. There was no room for compromise anywhere. The Empire was here merely to extract information from these Pleroma and do its utmost for subjects’ safety.
One diocesan bishop spoke.
“Then allow a second proposal. We offer cooperation.”
“You’ve already spoken once, so now hear the Empire’s demands. Pleroma is polluting Imperial soil, gravely infringing on subjects’ right to survival.”
“Hmm.”
“Cease polluting land and rivers. You know well the damages and human-material losses without us listing them. Minister of Finance.”
The Prime Minister received a file from the minister. He intended to cite the damage figures, but it was swiftly cut off. Another diocesan bishop beside the old man spoke.
“We too know many Imperials suffer from our drugs. That’s why we ask to legally raise our Pleroma on Imperial soil.”
Back to square one. Mecklenburg clenched his fist. The empty seat to his right felt especially vast. Ascanien, the observer, hadn’t even continued speaking here. Perhaps only Mecklenburg felt it, but with Nicolaus Ernst gone, only tension lingered.
‘…Honestly assessing, our side is being dragged into Pleroma’s game.’
Our administration, accustomed to normal, sensible diplomacy, was mismatched from the start against the inherently mad church leadership. Even as we proceeded by procedure, they interrupted everything with absurd claims, making it exceedingly awkward. Even for secret negotiations, no diplomatic delegation would act this brazenly. The Prime Minister, face as if talking to a wall, refused more resolutely.
“You speak nonsense. We will not compromise on crime. If you do not stop, the Empire has no choice but to respond more harshly to Pleroma.”
“Then we must take our leave. I believe we’ve sufficiently answered the Empire’s demands. May we make the second proposal now? Our proposals end here; thereafter, we’ll heed the Empire’s stance.”
“…….”
If this were a normal entity, negotiations would end here. Do they think this is parliament rife with factional fights? There’s no reason to tolerate such rudeness further. But with the Empire’s foes before us, we couldn’t squander the chance, and they knew it.
The Prime Minister gestured to his aide behind him. The aide whispered briefly and retreated.
“Proceed.”
“Thank you. We Pleroma wish to stand with the German Empire’s forces against foreign threats. Thus, we offer our Pleroma elite troops for the Empire’s safety.”
The Prime Minister now wore a cold smile.
“How many?”
“As many as you desire.”
“We refuse.”
No one voiced the reason. No need to politely explain to Pleroma, and everyone knew it anyway. Countless Pleroma entering the Empire would bring clear gains. Intelligence and power from them. But the moment they joined our military, our information would leak too. No matter how tight the security, controlling multiple mouths and feet is hard.
“We Pleroma have failed to earn trust. We must offer trust before proper discussion.”
The Munich-Freising diocesan bishop continued solemnly.
“Thus says the Lord of Hosts: Behold, I send my messenger, who will prepare the way before me. Then suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant, whom you desire, will come.”
The Prime Minister replied dryly.
“Malachi.”
“This is the revelation given to us Pleroma. The messenger of the covenant we awaited is among us, so the Lord we seek will soon come to His temple.”
Mecklenburg narrowed his eyes. Clearly sharing the doubt. One minister spoke.
“…The messenger of the covenant and the Lord we seek are the same being.”
“Not according to our prophecy.”
“…….”
The politicians’ faces hardened further. Facing these thoroughly mad folk kept sinking in, tension crawling up his spine like at first sight. Mecklenburg glanced at the Farnese wizard. He merely stared at the bishops with a faint smile, showing no reaction. Heard he came from a Vatican seminary— the most religious among us shows no response. Why? Mecklenburg swallowed and turned. The acting Minister of Magic spoke.
“I’ll speak. Malachi is the last book of the Old Testament. Hasn’t its prophecy been fulfilled in the New Testament?”
“Of course, but we await a new covenant.”
A new covenant? Intending to rewrite the New Testament? As Mecklenburg clamped his mouth shut in thought, they continued.
“We’ve surely brought much trial to the Empire. But that’s no signal of enmity. We must join hands as one nation against foreign powers. To dispel doubts of our sincerity, we must bare our very heart.”
The diocesan bishop smiled around at everyone and said.
“Thus, Your Excellency Prime Minister, there is one envoy yet to arrive here. Likely at the palace checkpoint now—will you permit entry?”
All their words were inscrutable, but every bit was intelligence to us now. The Prime Minister exchanged glances with the ministers and nodded.
“Permitted.”
Boom—
The moment the reply fell, a roar erupted. As gale blurred his senses, Mecklenburg drew his wand and jumped up. Everyone except Narke Farnese stood, all but him aiming wands at one spot. Mecklenburg squinted, shielding wind with one arm, wand trained on one person.
A wizard who arrived cloaked in pure white light bowed with staff in hand. Face obscured by light. The only visible: glassy transparent white hair and skin, eerie.
The diocesan bishop gestured to him contentedly.
“We deliver the messenger of the covenant to the Empire. What say you?”