How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 256

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magic Family (256)

 

“It’s cleaner than I expected.”

 

I said while looking at the well-maintained library.

 

There was no response. As I had felt from the beginning, the servant seemed to lack sociability.

 

‘I can see why they gave me the suggestion to have a conversation.’

 

Of course, the main reason for the suggestion was probably because there was information to be gained from this person, but the fact that conversation didn’t flow naturally must have played a part as well.

 

I shook off the servant’s gaze piercing my back and walked straight down the corridor.

 

It was a spacious library that looked like an entire floor of a library had been transplanted here.

 

If the owner was someone who didn’t read books at all, there would be no library or it would be small, but this Archbishop didn’t seem to be that type. Well, it wasn’t particularly strange since he was someone who had to sit in the highest position and lead people.

 

‘Strategy books. Military treatises.’

 

I stood in front of a bookshelf full of such titles. Military treatises filled two entire bookcases. As if he had read them recently, three or four military treatises were scattered upside down near the sofa area with a small chair and table.

 

I felt unpleasant because our tastes were similar.

 

There were almost no novels in the library. This was also similar to me. Except for the last time I spent in my own body, throughout my entire life I didn’t read novels often.

 

There were definitely works that left such a deep impression that I would want to recommend them to others, but not many. If I only count works that I could say I was truly absorbed in, the novel that serves as the background for this world was the only work that captivated me in my life. Actually, that’s why I was even more dumbfounded when I came here.

 

Though I’ve never particularly thought that I shouldn’t have read that novel.

 

I slowly passed through the corridor, checking the books inserted in the shelves and the worn books that had been read frequently.

 

Overall, there were more non-fiction than literature. In terms of ratio, it was about 2:8. Even that 20% consisted of works going back to ancient Greece or the medieval period rather than recent works.

 

The 20% that had been collected that way were all worn out, as if they were truly favorite works. I ran my hand along the spines while reading the titles.

 

‘Iliad, Odyssey, Oedipus Rex… Theogony.’

 

These are works that are widely read even in our era. Aeschylus’s tragedies also stood out in their worn condition.

 

He seemed to have an unusual interest in medicine, magic studies, and political science. In the political science section, academic journals about Machiavelli and Machiavellianism were crammed in abundantly.

 

I stopped walking in front of them.

 

Where I stood, there were two bookcases. The left one was entirely filled with books about Niccolo Machiavelli, and the right one had his work The Prince and similar books inserted.

 

Though I had checked every bookcase while walking so far, this was the first place where such space was allocated to a single thinker and one ideology.

 

‘Hmm, Machiavelli…’

 

Everything seemed unexpected since entering here. Since I had never seen him leading the diocese, his image in my mind was nothing more or less than a stalker.

 

Thinking about it carefully, on the surface their tendencies seemed to match quite well.

 

I already knew about The Prince itself, so that was fine, but to understand how the Archbishop interpreted The Prince text, I needed to look at something slightly different.

 

I moved my hand to the left bookcase, where books about the author Machiavelli were kept.

 

I pulled out several books with indexes stuck all over them and opened each book to a random page once.

 

[Niccolo Machiavelli fiercely criticized the Medici Family’s despotism through ‘The Prince.’ He was truly a republican, but the oppression of his era forced him to express his opinions secretly.]

 

[The author does not completely agree with the opinion that Niccolo Machiavelli was a ‘good citizen republican,’ but argues as follows. ‘The Prince’ is undoubtedly a book for the people. To help readers understand this paper, the author wishes to borrow the words of two thinkers. Spinoza said: “‘The Prince’ shows how dangerous it is for free masses to entrust their welfare absolutely to one person.” And Socrates said: “The only good is knowledge, and the only evil is ignorance.” The shocking revelations of that work promoted the return from subjects to people and became the foundation of the Enlightenment. This alone is the essence.]

 

[Why do Enlightenment thinkers try to package Niccolo Machiavelli? It is because his opportunistic tendencies are the foundation of ‘The Prince.’ His despotism is not actual despotism but merely reflects Machiavelli’s own selfishness and opportunism. We subjects should remember that Machiavelli was a wretched opportunist who changed political camps several times for survival.]

 

‘Hmm…’

 

Each page I opened said something different.

 

He had read quite evenly without bias, and I could guess the reason.

 

The two were similar. More precisely, the publicly perceived Machiavelli matched the Archbishop’s thought process. There was sufficient reason for the Archbishop to identify himself with Machiavelli. Considering the very summarized—so summarized that it caused numerous misunderstandings and even flattened the work—philosophy of The Prince that any means can be justified for an end, one could see that the Archbishop’s tendencies and ideology matched. Though they would be complete opposites if you went deeper.

 

At least, it was clear that he had such special regard for Niccolo Machiavelli that it seemed like he might be using him as his own mirror.

 

I organized the books back and moved on again. The servant followed behind me carrying a mana lamp.

 

‘…Just looking at the book collection… it’s at a level where I’d want to copy and paste it all to my house.’

 

It was annoying that our tastes overlapped.

 

That doesn’t mean I unconditionally agree with every book he owns. There are just many books that look interesting.

 

I came to the library in the first place to see the overall flow and guess his tendencies, not because I believed he would unconditionally agree with every single book.

 

There’s something I feel from seeing this.

 

If we had met normally in the same space, we could have become fairly decent friends.

 

Though that would be absolutely impossible now.

 

I toured to the end of the library and discovered a small room with an open door.

 

Going inside, I could see the writing he had been working on. I closed the open ink cap while reading the text written on yellow paper.

 

[In the last issue, I covered the spolia opima. Therefore, readers will be well acquainted with Marcvs Clavdivs Marcellvs, the general who obtained spolia opima in the Battle of Clastidium and the consul who fought fiercely against Hannibal of Carthage.]

 

‘Last issue? How many jobs does he have?’

 

I thought he spent all day just following me around, but he does more diverse work than expected.

 

I’m not disappointed, just curious. I don’t know which magazine he sends articles to, but he really lives as if a day has 48 hours. I wonder if you have to do this much to become an archbishop.

 

[In 208 BC, Marcellus was discovered by Hannibal’s subordinates during reconnaissance and died in battle. Hannibal gave him a dignified funeral, but there was an undignified action here. Hannibal took the deceased Marcellus’s signet ring and sent false information to Salapia, a village loyal to Rome. The order was to open the castle gates as Marcellus was marching to Salapia. If Salapia accepted this letter as truth, the one entering through Salapia’s gates would not be Rome’s Marcellus, Salapia’s ally, but Carthage’s Hannibal.]

 

“…”

 

This was part of the Punic Wars.

 

Interesting content. Of course, it was interesting because that Archbishop had written it himself. It was worth remembering.

 

[However, Rome’s second consul Titus Quinctius Crispinus keenly detected Hannibal’s scheme and informed Salapia and surrounding cities that Marcellus was already dead. This letter arrived shortly before Hannibal’s letter reached Salapia. Unaware of this fact, Hannibal placed Roman deserters at the front and marched to Salapia’s gates. Salapia pretended to be deceived by Hannibal’s letter and welcomed the ‘Roman Marcellus’ entering their gates. Salapia relaxed Carthage’s vigilance and then attacked them, and ultimately Hannibal had to leave that place after suffering damage from his own scheme. No matter how great a general Hannibal was and what his achievements had been until then…]

 

“How long will you be looking?”

 

The servant’s words broke my concentration.

 

I answered without looking in his direction.

 

“You said I was going to be his husband.”

 

Whether he had no intention of arguing back, the servant left me alone without a response.

 

[…this time was Hannibal’s defeat. What can we discover here.]

 

“…”

 

[Hannibal’s strategy was excellent. However, the result that the strategy failed is a painful fact regardless of the strategy’s excellence. Should we see this as a result of the god of fate not supporting him? Or should we see it as Hannibal’s mistake in underestimating Crispinus? The judgment is up to the reader.]

 

“If you’re going to stay, I’ll bring tea.”

 

“So that’s what you meant. It’s fine. More than that, this column is quite interesting. Which magazine are you sending it to? Or which newspaper?”

 

“It’s difficult to tell you.”

 

“Well, fine. Have you read this?”

 

He nodded.

 

I clicked my tongue while speaking, partly to act like a husband—I’ve given up now.

 

“It doesn’t even seem to have been sent yet, but showing it to you too makes me feel strange.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No need to apologize. More than that, what do you think about the author’s question?”

 

I would start the conversation with ‘Lu Bar’ with this.

 

The suggestion to have a conversation wouldn’t have come out for no reason. It’s impossible to break the ice with trivial conversation like ‘the weather is nice today’ with this person.

 

To move on to talk about the Archbishop, I need to ask questions related to the Archbishop. The writing he did would serve as a good means.

 

“I think he was unlucky.”

 

“…”

 

“At the same time, I think Hannibal was also lacking. If he wasn’t confident he could control the fact that the signet ring was seized from reaching the Roman army, he shouldn’t have used such a strategy. He might have sent the letter to Salapia thinking it was nothing to lose.”

 

“What do you think your master would think?”

 

“I don’t know my Master’s intentions.”

 

I nodded and slowly sat on the sofa at the back of the room.

 

Even though this was clearly the Archbishop’s private space, the servant didn’t stop me.

 

This time I brought up a question directly related to the Archbishop.

 

“I saw earlier that there are really many books about Machiavelli. Have you ever thought that Niccolo Machiavelli resembles your master?”

 

He looked down at me with a face wondering what I was talking about, then answered quietly.

 

“I can’t say no.”

 

I gestured to the sofa in front and said.

 

“You’re honest. Come, sit down. In what sense do you think he’s similar to Machiavelli?”

 

He stared at me, then sat down and spoke with an expressionless face.

 

“Are you thinking of marrying my Master?”

 

“…”

 

A hollow laugh came out.

 

He’s calling me the guy who’ll become his husband?

 

Could he be saying this because he can’t hand over his master to someone who compares his lover to Machiavelli? That would be crazy.

 

I thought that, but it was my misjudgment. The words that came from Lu Bar’s mouth were unexpected.

 

“To keep it short before it becomes a long speech, as you know, my Master is someone who can willingly endure painful means for his purposes.”

 

“…”

 

More precisely, he’s someone who can use means that are painful to others without hesitation for his own benefit. His stalking record proves that. It’s amazing that he lives only according to his own taste despite having accumulated so many scholars’ papers about Machiavelli.

 

By the way, he was habitually blurting out Low German—northern German—then correcting himself to High German.

 

“Are you from the north? I can sense a Low German accent.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Where? If it’s the north… Hamburg? Osnabrück? Münster?”

 

Instead of answering my question, he continued what he had been saying earlier.

 

“Your Excellency is not Pleroma. And Master is Pleroma. For love’s sake, there’s definitely a possibility he would make Your Excellency into Pleroma.”

 

Hmm?

 

Of course that’s true. But for this topic to come from his servant?

 

I smiled and shook my head.

 

“That’s not something for you to worry about.”

 

“…”

 

He looked at me quietly, then asked.

 

“Are you saying it would be fine to become Pleroma?”

 

“Honestly speaking, it wouldn’t be good.”

 

“He might demand your blood.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Are you thinking of giving him your blood?”

 

“No. Not right now.”

 

“Are you saying it would be fine later?”

 

“Depending on the situation.”

 

It won’t be fine later either.

 

There won’t be a ‘later’ to begin with.

 

But there’s no need to be honest in enemy territory.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re asking these questions. Do you hope I won’t be connected with him?”

 

“I’m just saying this because Your Excellency seems to be misunderstanding something. Then what are you relying on to stay in this location? Master can act contrary to your expectations at any time.”

 

Lu Bar is telling me something absurd right now.

 

To hear such talk in this place.

 

I clasped my hands together and asked.

 

“Can you get me out of this location?”

 

“It would require some lies, but yes. If you wish, I’ll help you escape.”

 

How bewildering. At this point, his true intentions are questionable.

 

I spoke calmly without showing such thoughts.

 

“You asked what I’m relying on to be here. I trust the promise that person made to me.”

 

“Trust? Master can endure lies if it’s for his purpose.”

 

“I know. But I still trust him.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know either. Maybe it’s because I love him?”

 

“…”

 

It’s extremely difficult to say such words out loud. Still, fortunately, thinking that I’m working right now made the awkwardness disappear quickly.

 

He still looked at me with indifferent eyes, then shook his head and stood up from his seat.

 

“I have work to do, so I’ll be going. If you need guidance, call another servant.”

 

“Wait.”

 

He stopped and looked down at me.

 

“Why don’t you trust your master?”

 

“I do trust him. Separately, this was just human consideration I showed to Your Excellency.”

 

I nodded and rolled my eyes. Then I leaned back against the sofa and asked again.

 

“Fine. What is your name?”

 

“Lu Scheller.”

 

“…I see. Is that so.”

 

I brought up his status window.

 

Lu Bar

 

Favorability +10 [Capturable]

 

Title: Wanted Person

 

Health: +6

 

Mental Power: +4 [+9]

 

Magic Power: +6

 

Skill: +8

 

Impression: -3

 

Traits: —

 

Setting aside that crazy favorability and title, he is indeed ‘Lu Bar’.

 

And as far as I know, ‘Bar’ is a noble family from Osnabrück. He just tried to hide his family name from me.

 

‘By the way, ‘Lu’ is his real name.’

 

Normally, people wouldn’t give such a name as a real name in this era.

 

This is usually a nickname for Luise or Louis, etc. Did he make up his own name?

 

He handed me the key and left the library.

 

No, he tried to. He stood in front of the dark hallway in the distance and slowly turned around.

 

“Your Excellency.”

 

When I looked at him, he continued speaking.

 

“Master is thinking of holding an engagement ceremony soon.”

 

* * *

 

With whom?

 

With me?

 

‘Then it must be me, who else…’

 

I’m hoping it’s with someone else, but unfortunately that won’t be the case. No, it would also be troublesome if it were with someone else at this point.

 

Anyway, the proposal…

 

Ding—!

 

Congratulations!

 

‘Proposal 1: Talk with ‘Lu Bar” Success!

 

‘Route 1 — 【 Proposal 2 】’ is confirmed.

 

It succeeded smoothly.

 

The conversation with him full of mysteries and his status window weren’t exactly smooth, but they provided good information for me. Now I just need to interpret the information.

 

And the Archbishop appeared much later.

 

The next morning.

 

While sleeping, I suddenly got goosebumps and opened my eyes wide.

 

“…!”

 

The Archbishop was right in front of my face. I reflexively sat up and threw a punch, but he quickly dodged by infusing magic power into his movement. He grinned and said.

 

“I’m here. Let’s make a strategy!”

 

“…”

 

Looking at the clock, it was 6 AM.

 

When I first came here it was dawn, so about 24 hours have passed since I’ve been here. About 2 hours would have passed outside.

 

I nodded and waved my hand to mean get out quickly.

 

He left more obediently than expected. As soon as he left, two servants came in.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“We came to help you wash your face.”

 

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

 

I argued for 10 minutes, but surprisingly, it didn’t work at all. There must have been orders from the Archbishop.

 

Even after washing my face, they didn’t leave.

 

One servant took a jacket from the hanger. When I raised my arms, they helped me put on the jacket.

 

‘This is really almost medieval.’

 

No.

 

It wasn’t just because I found it unpleasant—this certainly wasn’t a culture unique to the medieval period.

 

Someone of Georg Ascanien’s status would have servants help him dress. Adrian, however, pretended not to be hierarchical even at home, and due to his perfectionist tendencies that bordered on obsessive cleanliness, he absolutely never entrusted anything personal to others.

 

Anyway, since Luca was treated like air at home, he had no choice but to handle everything himself, so this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar scene for nobles.

 

Of course, from a modern person’s perspective who values personal space, it just made me chuckle helplessly.

 

“Is there anywhere you feel uncomfortable?”

 

“No.”

 

The clothes the Archbishop had brought fit my body perfectly—he must have noted my measurements from the clothes he’d taken before. However, the design wasn’t really to my taste. Since he’d bought them himself, he probably chose according to his own preferences.

 

The servants seated me and began applying oil to slick back my hair. This was one thing that was convenient having others do. Ever since entering Eschede, having to worry about my hairstyle every time was no small annoyance.

 

Of course, the problem was who exactly had asked for hair styling. I had no intention of keeping my hair slicked back during my break as if I were working. It was obvious where this presumptuous behavior of doing things without even asking my opinion came from. Before they could touch the other side of my hair, I stood up and dismissed them.

 

“Thank you for your hard work. I’ll handle the rest myself, so you may go now.”

 

I went to the bathroom and splashed water to return my hair to its original state. After roughly toweling my hair dry as I used to do in the dormitory and going down to another room, the Archbishop, who had been sitting there waiting with documents spread out, widened his eyes and said:

 

“You let your hair down.”

 

“Yes. So, what are these documents?”

 

“It looks so unfamiliar~ I’ve almost only seen you with your hair slicked back like that!”

 

The Archbishop smiled brightly and gestured to his own hair. I smiled back and countered:

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“Why isn’t it? I’ve been meeting you ever since you entered Eschede.”

 

“…”

 

I looked at him with a smile. He widened his eyes and tilted his head.

 

“Well, fine. If that’s what you think.”

 

At my response, he grinned and tapped the table. When I sat down, he handed me the documents.

 

“First, it’s been 2 hours since the disappearance. I’d recommend not going down to the Empire. It’s more inflamed than ever before.”

 

“Inflamed.”

 

“The citizens found out that the Imperial Government covered up the terrorism… Ascanien has issued an official statement about your disappearance.”

 

“What did they say?”

 

“They criticized the Imperial Government for sacrificing a member of the Ascanien family to resolve the terrorism. Oh, that Anhalt mage at your school also participated in the protest statement.”

 

Stefan Traut, you mean.

 

Once I turned his mindset upside down, he’s moving in the right direction on his own.

 

The issues related to him are complicated, so I’ll think about them later.

 

The Archbishop continued speaking. Gradually, the smile disappeared from his face.

 

“Now let’s get to the main point. Pleroma changed their strategy a while ago—about an hour and a half after you arrived here.”

 

“…”

 

I looked down at the short letter from Pleroma he’d brought and remained silent.

 

Because the contents were quite hopeless.

 

[To His Excellency the Bishop of the Diocese of Münster.]

 

[This is Therese Gebauer, Secretary-General of the Archdiocese Union. Finding the Bishop of Osnabrück is realistically impossible. His Excellency the Archbishop of Cologne has ordered us to find Lucas Ascanien and use him to lure out the Bishop of Osnabrück.]

 

The Archbishop looked at me with serious eyes and said:

 

“The leadership’s target now isn’t the Bishop of Osnabrück. It’s you.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————