Chapter 524

Leonard Wittelsbach was at a disadvantage.

This was where Marian Baum believed the first hurdle lay. Leonard was at an obvious disadvantage, both intuitively and visually. He did not have the kind of appearance that would easily win the favor of the Catacombs mages. His striking features would certainly be an immense advantage in meetings with other members of royalty or when addressing the public, but here, while dealing with the Catacombs leadership, they offered him no advantage whatsoever. They did not necessarily inspire hostility, but neither did they offer anything that could make up for the countless other things they resent about him.

And there are countless things they resent. So many, in fact, that they could almost be said to encompass everything about him.

Like the reigning king, the Crown Prince was exceptionally tall, the sort of person who stood out even when standing alone. He was also considerably more solidly built than Bavaria’s finest officers, just as he would have been compared to the peers he might have briefly joined in the Imperial Association during his youth as a matter of custom. That kind of build would serve him well in situations where an imposing or authoritative presence was beneficial. Here, however, they produced the opposite effect in the most immediate and obvious way.

The Catacombs leadership felt such deep aversion to his very royalty that it had gone beyond mere hostility, leaving them simultaneously weary and tense.

Did he know that?

He had to.

His birthright put everyone on edge. That tension gave rise to resentment, and that unpleasant mixture ultimately became weariness with both their own tension and the status that caused it. He needed to understand even that this reaction was rooted—at least in part—in something irrational.

When a hundred million commoners looked upon him with awe, the Catacombs leadership did not.

The very manners, speech, gaze, and restraint that had made the world treat the Crown Prince favorably all his life—the entirety of his cultivated dignity—would become obstacles for him today.

Marian Baum looked toward Chairman Antje Dracher.

At first glance, Antje Dracher was a dignified person. She was gentle, yet utterly decisive about where she drew the line, and that quality revealed itself in her firm gaze and the set of her mouth. The faint lines around Dracher’s mouth betrayed her stubbornness without making her seem obstinate in the slightest. The slight curve of her lips instead conveyed a measured sense of conviction. Her eyes were warm, but that warmth was entirely a consideration for others, softening the cold, rational judgments she passed upon the world.

Marian Baum had always admired Chairman Antje Dracher’s refinement. Since the outward appearance reflected the inner self, the quiet dignity emanating from Chairman Dracher testified to both the breadth of her world and the clear-headedness of the woman herself.

Leonard Wittelsbach, unlike Chairman Antje Dracher, who had lived an ordinary academic life before gradually finding his way toward becoming an activist and politician, had been trained to become a leader from birth. More accurately, he had been born for that very purpose. In other words, he had been made for Bavaria, and therefore had to be someone capable of dying for Bavaria. Since his death, too, would necessarily have to be tied to Bavaria in one way or another, there was a stillness in his eyes that did not belong to someone his age.

No matter how much vitality he showed in other respects, Leonard remained somewhat detached from his own fate, knowing that his destiny was bound to Bavaria. He expected little from the world while still striving for something greater, and that habit—the cold-blooded strictness he imposed upon himself—had settled into his muscles beneath unlined skin and those eyes that seemed to simmer with a cold intensity. It was a kind of proper self-discipline and introspection, almost religious in nature, that had never once been found in the members of ruling families, who were so easily intoxicated by the sweetness of power.

Chairman Antje Dracher showed the marks of experience, while Crown Prince Leonard Wittelsbach showed the freshness of youth. Yet both had faces that spoke of years spent cultivating the qualities required of a leader. The dignity that flowed from contemplation and reflection was simply a fact, but regardless of the truth behind it, the two forms of dignity were received differently by everyone. Chairman Antje Dracher’s dignity naturally inspired respect from the heart, while Crown Prince Leonard Wittelsbach’s dignity made people wary simply because he was royalty.

Even so, he could not choose something that was less than best for the duties of his position simply to dispel their resentment.

Could he avoid disappointing the Catacombs while also avoiding disappointing Bavaria? In other words, could he truly maintain the balance?

“Crown Prince Leonard Wittelsbach. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Chairman Antje Dracher spoke with a solemn smile. She was the only one who neither seemed flustered nor tense beneath the heavy atmosphere.

“I am Antje Dracher, First Chairman of the Catacombs Parliament, and this is Second Chairman Janina Schweitzer.”

“It is an honor to meet the chairpersons of the Catacombs. Please, have a seat.”

The Crown Prince politely extended a hand toward the seats, and his secretary, who was in the room, pulled out the chairs for the two Catacombs chairpersons. The Crown Prince did not introduce himself. There was no need. Everyone knew who he was, and the Crown Prince himself knew it as well.

Chairman Antje Dracher and Second Chairman Janina Schweitzer gave a formal bow before taking their seats. Before they even had time to tense up and wonder who would speak first, a soft yet dignified voice rang out.

“The Catacombs leadership is deeply honored to be negotiating with the Royal Family of Bavaria.”

Chairman Antje Dracher continued, her hands clasped together and her expression composed.

“As Your Highness knows, this is a momentous occasion. Our commoner mages, who under the Imperial Constitution are considered people who have no right to reside on German soil, have had their existence recognized by one of the pillars of the German Federation.”

Marian Baum swallowed.

Chairman Antje Dracher intended to settle the matter from the outset. Her manner was formal, her words respectful, and her phrasing gentle, but her stance was clear. From the very beginning, Chairman Dracher was pressing the Kingdom of Bavaria to make its intentions clear: how would it treat the Catacombs, and was it prepared to recognize them as equals?

Anyone who failed to understand that she was demanding an explicit commitment that Bavaria would not simply take what it stood to gain from the Catacombs and cast them aside afterward, that it would not shift its attitude according to how circumstances unfolded, had no business being in this room. There was no such concern with the Catacombs leadership. They all understood exactly what was at stake.

What remained was the Crown Prince.

From this point on, the Catacombs’ response would depend on Crown Prince Leonard Wittelsbach’s reaction, and that response would change the future of both the Catacombs and Bavaria.

Excessive humility would lead to foolishness, because it would mean treating the Catacombs’ bargaining power as though it did not exist. Excessive caution in the name of the national interest would lead to self-righteousness, for the same reason. Self-interest, too, would lead to isolation and self-importance, again because it would mean disregarding the Catacombs’ bargaining power. It was easy to imagine how each could begin from entirely different premises and still arrive at the same conclusion.

But if he were to bow completely before the Catacombs, that too would lead to another kind of imbalance. In that sense, his humility would not be a virtue, but a dangerous bias that threatened the future of the kingdom—a failure of the qualities required of a ruler.

“It has taken a long time.”

That was how the Crown Prince began. He did not add the grand rhetoric so often used by the German Emperor and countless kings. It has taken a long time for the currents of history to bring us to this place. Marian Baum could easily imagine Emperor Friedrich saying something like that in a situation such as this.

Time seemed to move slowly.

Marian Baum could hear even the second hand of the pocket watch tucked against his chest, along with the sound of his own heartbeat. The instant the Crown Prince’s eyes closed and opened again drew Marian Baum into an endless expanse.

The firm line of the Crown Prince’s lips moved.

“I am honored that today’s meeting has become an occasion to reaffirm the universal values and rights of humanity. In the face of an inhumane constitutional order that arbitrarily strips people of their inviolable natural rights, it is our honor to use the power of the state to affirm those natural rights with certainty. At the same time, I mourn the state of affairs in which a nation must proclaim natural rights as a bulwark against the unchecked violence of absolute power. Our Royal Family extends its gratitude that this meeting was able to take place.”

Marian Baum felt the breath caught in his throat suddenly escape. His pounding pulse, which had been driven to the point of bursting by the tension, transformed into a surge of relief—and then into hope, which brought that sharp tension back once more.

That’s it.

Marian Baum repeated the words to himself. That’s it. His grave concerns for the future of the Catacombs and Bavaria had, with this, passed the first hurdle. There was little change in the expressions of the Catacombs leadership, who had been watching with keen, critical eyes and harboring their own resentment. Nor should any of them have been foolish enough to let all those reactions show on their faces.

As Your Highness knows, this is a momentous occasion. Chairman Antje Dracher had used those words to put pressure on the Crown Prince. This was a momentous occasion precisely because they were people who should not have been allowed to exist in Germany. And by inviting them here, the Royal Family had recognized them as people who could exist in Germany. Did the Royal Family understand the weight it had taken upon itself by holding this meeting? Or did it not? If it did, could it acknowledge that fact? Could it declare that, by acknowledging it, the Royal Family would not shy away from that burden? And if it did not, could it acknowledge it now?

The Crown Prince had responded by saying that he was honored that this meeting had become an occasion to reaffirm the universal values and rights of humanity. He had understood the situation with complete precision, acknowledged it, neither bowed nor submitted, nor used an inappropriate moment to give voice to any sense of guilt.

The Crown Prince spoke plainly of what the party responsible had done without naming who had carried out the inhumane constitutional act of arbitrarily abolishing the inviolable natural rights of all human beings. Naturally, although Bavaria stood opposed to Prussia, it did not reveal its intentions with dangerous precision. Prussia was no different. Yet unlike in peacetime, the Royal Family had not refrained from openly attacking Prussia.

If Bavaria failed to secure the Catacombs’ cooperation, it would not take action. Nor would it openly condemn Prussia. Therefore, an indecisive ruler who lacked the resolve to act would hesitate to declare Prussia an enemy in case circumstances took an unexpected turn. Yet the Royal Family had not hesitated to do so, despite the possibility that the negotiations could still fail.

With no prior knowledge of the situation, this could be interpreted either as a strategic choice made with the understanding that the Catacombs would never join hands with Prussia, or as the expression of a restrained but genuine conviction. The reason Marian Baum had decided that ‘that’s it’ was because he knew the latter was closer to the truth.

The decisive point came afterward.

They must proclaim it.

And they lamented the fact that they had to.

Natural rights were rights that everyone possessed from birth. The state had a duty to recognize those rights and protect its citizens from having their human rights violated. But because the present state of affairs was unnatural, because Prussia had abolished those inviolable rights through its constitution, Bavaria now had to make the existence of natural rights known and affirm them openly. Its commitment to protecting natural rights was being declared in response to a constitutional violation carried out by the state itself. Bavaria was defining this as an unnatural state of affairs and saying that it lamented the reality in which it had become necessary to proclaim natural rights in the first place.

This was only the beginning.

They would have to maintain this attitude, perhaps even take it further. The Crown Prince had given them reason to expect this from the very beginning, and now he had to live up to those expectations.

The Crown Prince knew that he himself was being scrutinized before dozens of eyes analyzing his every move. Even so, he showed none of the anxiety, deliberate affectation, unnecessary submission, or excessive solemnity one might expect, as though nothing at all were happening.

And yet, the Crown Prince was already in a completely different state from when he had met Marian Baum one-on-one. Even so, Marian Baum found it strangely difficult to believe that this was not simply how he had always been.

The nature of the cleanup operation itself made it clear that it required the use of the sovereign’s supreme command authority, and therefore that discussions with the King had been necessary. Marian Baum knew why the King had entrusted his heir with the authority to handle this matter.

Before the countless eyes studying him, the Crown Prince continued to speak.

“First, regarding the current situation, I believe you have already heard what I conveyed through Sir Marian Baum.”

“That is correct.”

It was Chairman Janina Schweitzer who answered. The Crown Prince gave a dignified nod and spoke at an even pace, his words carrying sufficient weight.

“Let me briefly go over it to confirm that our understanding is the same. Prussia has failed to control Pleroma, a criminal organization that has persisted for more than a decade, and even now has done little more than devise stopgap measures without being able to prevent Atropos, the mind altering and lethal drug produced by Pleroma. Pleroma has used Atropos to inflict substantial damage on the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Italian Peninsula. Under these circumstances, we expect the French House of Orléans to announce the existence of Atropos, which has so far been kept confidential, to the international community sometime between this evening and tomorrow morning, and to raise the issue of Germany’s responsibility. Next, I will explain the motives behind Terminus Eukairia. The French Empire and the House of Orléans have effectively fallen under the control of the pseudo-religious organization known as Terminus Eukairia, and are pursuing a military competition among the pseudo-religions as a matter of importance equal to, or even greater than, France’s own national interests. In early April, Pleroma assassinated Prime Minister Rudolf Trapp in an attempt to turn the Austro-Hungarian Empire into a puppet state, so as not to fall behind Terminus Eukairia. Terminus Eukairia has planted a spy within the Papal See, obtained all this information, and is now waiting for its next opportunity. Since the Kingdom of Bavaria identified and eliminated the spy within the Papal See, we believe Terminus Eukairia has been accelerating its efforts to ensure it does not miss an opportunity to counter Pleroma.”

The Crown Prince kept his gaze fixed on the two chairpersons.

“Under these circumstances, the Kingdom of Bavaria proposes cooperation with the Catacombs in order to protect Germany and our own citizens from external unrest and, ultimately, to fully carry out all the proper duties and responsibilities that the people have the right to expect their state to fulfill, but which have thus far gone unfulfilled.”