Chapter 548

“What do you know about what’s going to happen?”

Mecklenburg knew that Askanien already had a plan, and that the plan was simple and certain enough for anyone to come up with. But like any obvious first choice, it also carried considerable risk, which was why he asked. Askanien said nothing.

Mecklenburg remembered the advice they had received from Adrian Askanien—or rather, the order disguised as advice.

Had Lukas Askanien already thought of this ruthless plan of Adrian Askanien’s as well? Really? Was that why he had willingly entered Prussia and allowed himself to be arrested, enduring all that suffering just to prepare for it?

Askanien stared at Mecklenburg’s gloved hand for a long time without answering. His gaze slowly moved upward until it settled on Mecklenburg’s left arm, and the longer he looked, the drier Mecklenburg’s mouth became.

The sight that had filled him with terror refused to leave his mind.

Blood. People. The countless mages and Imperial officials watching the situation from beyond the wall without saying a word. The sound of a fountain pen scratching across the clipboard. The scalpel placed in his hand. The skin of his forearm that had to be pierced without being disinfected. The filthy diluted blood. And once again, the person sitting in it…

If he was being honest, he hadn’t forgotten any of it for even a moment since the interrogation began.

Askanien moved his gaze from Mecklenburg’s left arm to his eyes, as though that were his answer.

With his bloodless hand, Mecklenburg took an antiemetic from his pocket and swallowed it without water. He saw Askanien frown at the sight. There was no mistaking the expression on his face: Why would you swallow medicine without even drinking water?

The first time Mecklenburg had taken an antiemetic, it had been because the fear that Askanien might realize the identity of the interrogator had made him nauseous. But now he was suffering for another reason, the reason he had been thinking about all night.

The more proof a person showed that he was still a living human being, the faster Mecklenburg’s heart pounded with fear.

Twenty-five years of ignorance had finally come back to haunt him.

Askanien looked out the window and answered indifferently.

“Whatever happens, it’s all strategy.”

“Even what happened yesterday?”

“Yesterday?”

Askanien seemed intrigued. He slipped a hand into his pocket and tilted his chair back. He pushed against the carpet with his shoe, carefully adjusting himself so he wouldn’t tip the chair over.

Then he scrutinized Mecklenburg with his reddened eyes.

How do you know what happened yesterday? What do you mean by yesterday?

Mecklenburg knew there were still plenty of ways to talk his way out of this, but he said nothing. He had even changed all his clothes before coming here in case Askanien recognized him by his scent. Perhaps that had been pointless from the beginning.

No. Askanien had no basis for being certain that the person who had been there last night was Mecklenburg.

His certainty was ultimately nothing more than a guess…

Mecklenburg wanted to prolong this precarious peace for just a little longer, so long as he didn’t have to tell a lie. At least, that was what he seemed to think for now. Askanien was stronger than he had expected, and he didn’t seem to be particularly hostile toward Mecklenburg either. But that, in itself, was the line Askanien was drawing. In fact, the moment he had pressed Mecklenburg with, ‘How am I supposed to trust you?’ had been a much clearer breach of that line.

Ever since Askanien had stopped talking in detail about what had made him uncomfortable, the two of them hadn’t had another chance to speak openly. Mecklenburg, for his part, found it difficult to pour out his feelings when Askanien hadn’t even asked about them, so he remained silent as well. And so this unstable, heavy peace continued.

The fact that Askanien was being polite—the fact that he was drawing a line between them—didn’t hurt Mecklenburg all that much. But he still had no idea how Askanien would react once he learned the truth.

So he should have kept his mouth shut.

Yet Mecklenburg’s mouth moved against the wishes of its owner. He took a bottle of perfume from his bag and held it out.

“I brought the perfume you were using.”

“Why?”

Askanien looked at the bottle held out in front of him and asked with a crooked smile. He must have guessed that Mecklenburg had brought it because he was worried the smell of blood had seeped into his clothes.

Mecklenburg had no idea whether he wanted to preserve the line between them or break it. What good would it do to tell him that he had seen everything? Did he want Askanien to get angry with him, even if that was the only way to make it happen? Did he want to turn everything upside down just to create an opportunity for them to communicate?

Lately, Mecklenburg often thought that he was still far too young, and not only that, but that he had somehow managed to grow older without actually growing up. Yet there was one thing he had learned with age: if you wanted to become closer to someone, you had to break an uneasy peace.

When he had been Askanien’s age, he wouldn’t even have understood what the words ‘uneasy peace’ meant.

That didn’t mean Mecklenburg thought himself mature, either. In fact, he was reminded once again of how immature he still was. Making someone else uncomfortable simply because you wanted to get closer to them was the sort of thing children who hadn’t even reached their teens did.

And, most importantly, he didn’t even think he particularly wanted to become closer to Askanien.

But if someone was quietly festering on the other side of the line because of his attitude—though that was only a possibility, since Askanien appeared perfectly healthy right now—Mecklenburg didn’t want to simply leave it alone.

In other words, he had absolutely no idea what he wanted.

Stepping away from the world he knew and dealing with other people were entirely different matters.

Even after saying it, he felt embarrassed by what he had done. He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

“…I thought you might need it.”

“Thank you.”

Unlike the teasing expression he had worn before, Askanien now took the perfume without any particular reaction. When he suddenly shook his head vigorously, Mecklenburg frowned at the rather unrefined gesture. Askanien brushed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead and asked, “Do I smell like blood?”

Mecklenburg said nothing for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. You smell the same as His Highness the Crown Prince.”

And it was the same scent Mecklenburg had noticed every semester Adrian Askanien spent living at the Imperial Palace and studying there, almost as though he were His Majesty’s adopted son. He could make a reasonable guess.

Normally, even after an interrogation ended, they wouldn’t go so far as to assign attendants to someone just to provide minor conveniences. This wasn’t merely a matter of placing Askanien in Charlottenburg for appearances’ sake.

He had heard that His Majesty had shown some displeasure after learning that Lukas Askanien displayed no abnormal temperament. Mecklenburg couldn’t understand why His Majesty would be displeased by such a good result, but given His Majesty’s intentions, he had been somewhat worried. In the end, however, the Hohenzollerns had decided to treat Lukas Askanien with courtesy.

Mecklenburg found some relief in that.

Now that the internal interrogation had found nothing abnormal, it was time to proceed according to Adrian Askanien’s instructions. The problem was that even Adrian’s ruthless approach worried Mecklenburg.

After that, Askanien unfolded a newspaper and remained silent. Mecklenburg had nothing else to do, so he sat there and occasionally received reports through an artifact.

That was all.

It wasn’t until dawn that Askanien finally muttered, “I’m getting hungry.”

“Oh. I’ll have them bring us some food here. Please wait.”

Mecklenburg finally found something he could actually help with and quickly got to his feet, putting on his jacket. Then, realizing something a moment later, he hurriedly added, “It might be unpleasant to have to eat alone in your room, but you probably won’t be able to use the dining hall today. Once I go out, I’ll see what I can do…”

“Not that kind of hungry.”

“Then what other kind of hunger is there…?”

Mecklenburg turned around, raising one eyebrow. Askanien closed the newspaper, clasped his hands together, and spoke solemnly.

“Senior.”

“Yes.”

Mecklenburg answered, suddenly tense for no reason.

“If you have a potion left, please give me one.”

“…….”

Mecklenburg pulled down the corners of his mouth and looked away for no particular reason. Askanien, clearly aware of how displeased he was, snickered.

Mecklenburg took a potion out of his bag.

“I should’ve brought one from the Wittelsbachs.”

Askanien waved a hand as if to say it was fine and downed it in one gulp. Then he pushed the empty bottle aside as though Mecklenburg were his attendant and fell into thought.

Mecklenburg lowered the corners of his mouth and shot the irritating junior a sidelong glare before picking up the empty bottle.

I’ll have to ask a servant to throw this away when I leave the room later…

Just as he was thinking that, an unexpected question came from Askanien.

“Would you give me some if I asked for your blood?”

In that instant, Mecklenburg had the feeling that this wasn’t some completely baseless question. Somehow, it seemed rooted in everything they had talked about so far. He wondered if he had heard correctly and asked, “What?”

He meant that he wanted Askanien to explain what he meant, but Askanien merely watched him without a change in expression. Mecklenburg closed his mouth and turned away. He wasn’t used to repeatedly stepping over the line drawn between them, backing away, then stepping over it again.

This is going to haunt his dreams.

Whatever it was, he was sure the events of yesterday and today would.

Mecklenburg already knew that even if he slept, he wouldn’t feel as though he had truly rested.

After that, Mecklenburg stayed in the room without taking even a single nap, and Askanien did the same. He didn’t ask whether he was allowed to leave. He didn’t ask why no one was coming to visit him, either. No one had told him that visitors were forbidden, so Mecklenburg had to hear more than ten times that a junior from the Kleist family was standing guard at the gates of Charlottenburg Palace. On top of that, Askanien’s fellow students from the Imperial Second Academy had requested visits for reasons no one could determine. Those requests were even easier to turn away without a second thought.

Every time Mecklenburg received another report, he knew Askanien was watching him, but there was nothing in particular he could say to explain himself.

It wasn’t as though they spent every hour in silence. Askanien would sometimes get into the bathtub and stay there for ages, and other times he would sleep in bed. He never ate a single thing.

Mecklenburg remembered how, even when Askanien had vomited during the interrogation, strangely enough, only the blood he had just drunk had come back up. He seriously wondered how this person managed to be a combat mage.

Then he remembered that Adrian Askanien wasn’t all that different at times, either. The thought brought his mood down, leaving him with no choice but to think about something else.

In any case, Askanien would occasionally ask for a potion, occasionally tease Mecklenburg, and occasionally have serious conversations with him.

“My goal is this. I intend to wipe Pleroma out completely.”

This was on the evening of the day after Easter, at eight o’clock. Mecklenburg had been drinking black tea when those unexpectedly solemn words caught him off guard, and he hurriedly set his teacup back down.

Askanien had been in the bathroom until just moments ago. But when he came out, he had suddenly transformed into Nikolaus Ernst and was solemnly saying something like that.

Mecklenburg nodded, adopting an attitude of at least listening for now. Nikolaus, who had been pacing around the room while stroking his chin, spread his fingers and said, “All the remaining dioceses, too.”

“Not like this… You’re saying you’ll prioritize operating as a combat mage?”

He had deliberately phrased it indirectly, just in case. What he was really asking was whether Askanien intended to prioritize acting as Nikolaus Ernst over acting under his identity as Lukas Askanien.

“Yes. Once I’ve restored my reputation to some degree, the first thing I need to do is go after Pleroma. Not because I want to win the people over, but because Pleroma isn’t going to stop here. Why would they do nothing even though a day has already passed since Easter? When I encountered them, they had some truly remarkable abilities. And yet, despite having those abilities, they haven’t done anything. It could happen soon, so I have to hope I can get out of here as soon as possible. And when I do, I’ll have to follow the plan I’ve already laid out.”

“…….”

“What does the Imperial Family say? When did they say they were going to get me out of Charlottenburg?”

Mecklenburg was caught off guard. He hadn’t even told Askanien about the actual plan yet, but Askanien spoke as though he already knew most of it.

So he really was planning exactly what His Excellency had instructed.

“Midnight. The Imperial Family will probably be preparing a public address first. When that happens, I’ll go out and give you the speech for your part—”

“I’ve already written the speech. Buy us some time, then have this copied and submitted. If that would seem strange, should I go out at midnight and write out the exact same thing myself?”

“No… I’ll just submit it.”

“Good.”

Askanien, who had been pacing around the sitting room, dropped onto the sofa and smiled with the same confidence as His Excellency. He was already calculating how to get out of here as soon as possible and deal with the remnants of Pleroma as Nikolaus Ernst.

For some reason, Mecklenburg couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes whenever he wore Nikolaus’s face.

Mecklenburg snatched the paper Askanien flicked toward him and read the speech. It had a different feel from the statement Nikolaus Ernst had given as Bavaria’s Special Envoy, but it was well written all the same. Realizing there was little he could contribute even here, Mecklenburg pressed his lips together, folded it neatly, and tucked it inside his jacket.

For the next four hours, until midnight, Mecklenburg kept checking the newspapers. He gathered the regional daily papers and yellow journals as they were updated each hour and checked for changes.

An article reported that the operation to destroy the Archdiocese of Brandenburg, which had been presented as the achievement of the Special Operations Command, had actually been Lukas Askanien’s doing. Countless newspapers simply picked up the new scoop and ran with it. They did so even without the Imperial Family confirming the truth.

Another series of articles was spreading in the form of anonymous interviews, discussing the role Askanien had played in the removal of the Archdiocese of Munich-Freising. The interviews were based on accounts from members of the Imperial Mage Association and people who knew them. Some were even from Bavarian royal mages who had taken part in the joint operation at the time.

It had not yet been revealed that Askanien had uncovered and resolved the Atropos problem in advance, but it would be announced soon. Mecklenburg had already received the Imperial Family’s schedule for the announcements beforehand, so he knew when each piece of information would be made public.

What was strange was this—the timing and subjects of the leaks the Imperial Family had arranged with Adrian Askanien’s help were all part of a public opinion campaign centered around Prussia. And yet similar articles were appearing in southern and southeastern Germany, sometimes a little earlier and sometimes a little later. Baden, Württemberg, Bavaria, and Saxony were all doing the same.

Every time it happened, Mecklenburg was struck by how remarkably similar the ideas Adrian Askanien and Nikolaus Ernst had come up with were. He swallowed against the inexplicable tension that rose within him.

Now that he looked more closely, even the deployment records of the 101st Unit had been leaked. It hadn’t been the government’s intention, but some of those who had escaped the devastation caused by the Rampagers during the 101st Unit’s operation had agreed to interviews with small yellow journalism papers. The resulting articles looked as shallow as could be, yet they seemed to be surprisingly effective, so they appeared from time to time.

When Mecklenburg had finished checking all of that, the bell announcing midnight rang through Charlottenburg.

Someone spoke through Mecklenburg’s artifact.

— [Lord Mecklenburg, bring Lord Askanien to the first floor.]

Mecklenburg swallowed.

Ten hours from now, the address to the people would begin.

He looked toward Askanien, who was sprawled on the bed, leisurely reading all sorts of books.

They hadn’t even told him they were leaving, but the moment their eyes met, Askanien smiled and got to his feet.

And so, they were called from place to place until seven in the morning.

The first time the government officials finally left the two of them alone, Askanien whispered to Mecklenburg, “Give me an hour. I need to go get a defibrillation.”

Mecklenburg glanced at the hand patting his shoulder and watched Askanien walk away.

He had no idea what Askanien meant by getting a defibrillation, but he could easily spare an hour within the scope of his authority. Judging by how Askanien simply left without even asking permission, perhaps all the experience he had accumulated as Nikolaus Ernst had given him a rough sense of when he could afford to take some time for himself.

When they met again at eight in the morning, Askanien didn’t look particularly pleased.

Mecklenburg saw that Askanien was reeking of perfume and covered his nose, only to realize that it was rude and quickly step farther away.

“That’s really not much better.”

Askanien scolded him as if he had read his mind.

Mecklenburg leaned against the railing of the corridor and checked the time. He wasn’t in a particularly good mood either. He now had to send Askanien before the Emperor. It was time to officially deliver Adrian Askanien’s instructions to Lukas Askanien.

Mecklenburg looked down at the sunlit floor and spoke with a complicated expression.

“Two days ago, I went to see Sir Eugène Lamour again.”

“I see.”

“He wants to see you. I know you must be on edge right now, wondering who’s on your side and who might have misunderstood you, but I can tell you this: Sir Lamour hasn’t misunderstood you.”

Mecklenburg’s parched lips parted.

“Neither have I, but…”

“…….”

“You asked how you could know what I would say.”

Askanien tilted his head as though to say, We’re talking about that now? and leaned against the railing on the opposite side as well. He folded his arms and looked at Mecklenburg.

“If I still haven’t given you enough reason to trust me, then that means there was something wrong on my end. You didn’t reveal your secret because you had come to trust me completely. You confessed the truth because the circumstances left you no choice. And even after all this time, I never had the chance to build a foundation of trust strong enough for you to fully trust me.”

“…….”

“I don’t know how this speech will end. But no matter how the subjects respond, I don’t believe you ever collaborated with Pleroma as one of their members.”

“Why?”

Mecklenburg was about to calmly explain his reasons. Then Askanien said something he absolutely did not want to hear, though there was still a chance he was wrong.

“Because you saw me vomit?”

Mecklenburg felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and clenched his hands. His suspicion had been right. Askanien knew. He knew Mecklenburg had entered the interrogation room as one of the interrogators.

Askanien repeated what he had vaguely said the day before.

“What would you have thought if I hadn’t vomited?”

“If you hadn’t vomited? You mean, if you had been able to take the blood without difficulty? That would have…”

“How was it?”

Askanien cut him off bluntly and asked. Mecklenburg felt as though he had stepped over the line in an unexpected way, and he had to force down the rapid pounding of his heart.

What did you think while watching the interrogation? How was it? Of course it had been—

“I can’t put it into words. I think I was tormented by it.”

And then.

“It may sound insane, but I was glad.”

“Glad?”

Askanien asked flatly. Mecklenburg wanted to calculate every word as carefully as His Excellency did, but instead, he simply let his mouth speak.

“Strategy matters.”

“…….”

“As you know—or rather, as you already recognized before I did, with that cold, clear reason of yours—strategy is what determines whether you live or die right now. The people who want to believe in you, the people who don’t want to see you killed by anyone, want to find any grounds they can use to defend you. So when you vomited because you couldn’t digest the blood…”

Mecklenburg hesitated, then spoke honestly.

“I was relieved when I saw you throw up. The fact that you weren’t accustomed to blood meant you weren’t Pleroma, at least that’s how it seemed to me. And if that was the truth, then no matter how extreme anyone’s plans were, it meant they could still be tempered. If you hadn’t thrown up… I suppose I would have thought I’d never see you at the Association again. On the day of your execution, I would have wondered how I was supposed to accept a world that had become so unfamiliar in just two months. Part of it would have been because someone I knew had died, but before that, it would simply be because a person had died. I might even have retired.”

“…….”

“Well, this has turned into nothing but me talking about myself. Is my judgment selfish? I can’t help it, though. This is everything. I… can’t bring myself to hold someone’s life in my hands anymore. I can’t bear that weight anymore. I wonder if this is how a monk feels when they’re careful not to step on even a single ant. Maybe I’m still being arrogant today, but at the very least, I’m close to losing my mind thinking about what kind of consequences my actions might cause from now on. So no matter what happens, I should make sure you never have to worry about me getting you into trouble…”

Mecklenburg trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I should try to make sure you never have to worry about that. I’m not asking you to trust me. If you leave things as they are, I’ll do my best.”

Askanien had been silent, but now he looked straight at Mecklenburg as though he had seen through everything in his heart.

“You don’t seem to need to tell me that you’ll try.”

The words were simple enough to make his intentions difficult to read, but there was something more in Askanien’s eyes. For some reason, Mecklenburg felt as though someone had read aloud a script written about his own story. It left him bewildered, but when he thought about it, there was no reason to be more surprised. Askanien had always been like this.

At times, he would react to other people’s actions with a slightly playful expression, as though he didn’t understand them, but he never seemed to truly fail to understand. It was as though he had learned certain conventional reactions and convinced himself that they were his own feelings, only to return moments later to those detached eyes, so much like His Excellency’s. To Mecklenburg, he was a walking collection of questions.

He was not someone Mecklenburg ever wanted to be close to.

And yet, he spoke as his heart told him to.

“Lord Askanien. From this point on, the Imperial Family is going to make unreasonable demands of you. The reason they’re so heartless as to issue a new order just two hours before the public address begins is so that you won’t have a chance to flee.”

Askanien thought for a moment before nodding. In that brief instant, Mecklenburg sensed a kind of peace on Askanien’s face that was slightly different from what he had seen throughout the previous day. When he quickly blinked and looked at him again, Askanien was wearing that irritatingly confident expression as though nothing had happened.

Mecklenburg could not reveal in advance what the Emperor was supposed to say. It was simply something a subject could not do. If the Mecklenburg of two months ago had witnessed himself like this, he would have been furious with the person he had become. But Mecklenburg did not hesitate.

“You probably already know, but I’ll tell you first. Listen, then compare it with what you already know and see if they match exactly. If we need to prepare for anything, let’s start now.”

10 AM.

The bells rang out to mark the hour. Mecklenburg looked at the image of the Imperial Dailies’ front page displayed on the small table behind the podium. If he looked away from the image, the exact same scene unfolded before his eyes.

He could feel his heart pounding faster.

Fear and helplessness seemed to radiate from every corner of his vision.

The empty stage where Mecklenburg stood with his hands clasped behind his back was the very same place where the 101st Unit’s inauguration ceremony had been held. He was waiting here alongside the representative mages of the 99th Unit, and if anything went wrong, they were supposed to protect the subjects from the person they were tasked with keeping watch over today.

Countless subjects were waiting in the square below. How many were there? It looked like at least ten thousand. Mecklenburg felt dizzy thinking about the even greater number of subjects peering over from beyond the square, and the tens of millions of people staring intently at their newspapers.

Then the enormous doors behind them opened.

Mecklenburg shifted his gaze to the left. Askanien walked onto the stage alone, expressionless, wearing the 101st Unit’s uniform.

The square, which had been somewhat noisy, fell into a cold silence as though it had never been otherwise.

Forty hours had passed since the thunderclap of a declaration that Lukas Askanien was Pleroma’s Messiah.

Making his first appearance at an official event, Askanien had parted his hair differently from usual, covering part of his forehead to give himself a slightly softer appearance. Even then, his eyes were already so cold that he hardly looked approachable, but perhaps it was better than making no effort at all.

The bruise on his jaw was nowhere to be seen, presumably covered by the Imperial Family’s makeup artists.

Askanien stopped before the podium, snapped his fingers to cast a voice amplification spell, and tapped the air. After checking the volume, he slowly looked around before turning his gaze toward the Imperial Dailies’ camera.

“Good morning, my fellow subjects. I am Lukas Askanien.”

With the bearing of an upright person who had no reason to feel guilty and could rely on his own conscience, he spoke the title that the subjects had been trying to deny.

“As vice captain of the 101st Unit of the Imperial Mage Association, I greet you all once again.”