How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 478

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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I quietly looked up at Narke and suddenly asked.

“Why?”

I couldn’t immediately understand the reason why the heirloom was the Pythia of Delphi. Even though it was clear that Narke’s testimony, having been intimately acquainted with this object, would be more accurate than my speculation or expectations, I asked again like someone who couldn’t believe without seeing the direct cause.

Just as I felt discord when I first heard Gabrielle’s words, Christian prophecy and ancient Greek oracles originate from different sources and proceed differently. Therefore, the fact that they named it the Pythia of Delphi doesn’t seem like something to pass over lightly. A storm of thoughts rages in my head. The Pythia of Delphi would be the bronze-plated marble angel crushed to powder at my feet, and if so, Delphi is the intact temple of Forum Romanum where I now stand. The oracle of Delphi is the magic power emanated through the Pythia. Naturally. I surmise that young Gabrielle and Narke regarded the heirloom’s prophecies as the kind that absolutely cannot be overcome by human free will and can only submit to fate—in other words, the prophecies emanating from here have always been fulfilled without a single error. That’s why this had to be the Pythia of ‘Delphi’.

“…Then this statue must have known that its breath would be cut off today.”

I continued speaking.

“It had to be shattered by my hands today. That’s why you didn’t stop me. Right.”

Narke didn’t answer. He just looked down at me from above. I felt my vision grow distant toward the central ceiling light and asked again.

“What do you mean Count Caetani couldn’t break it?”

“I mean he wanted to break it but couldn’t. No matter how much he struck it, it wouldn’t shatter.”

“Wouldn’t it break even if others struck it?”

“There was no one who tried to break it.”

“That would be the case. What do you think? Is it something that wouldn’t break if others struck it?”

“…”

“Then how could I have been able to break it?”

Narke remained silent again. There was no time for this. I gestured to him with rising impatience like a flood tide.

“Come down quickly. The elders who used to read prophecies from the fragments will come foaming at the mouth looking for us, so we need to escape. You know where you need to go, right? When the landlord comes out of Marcellus Theater, take that opportunity to infiltrate the family.”

Has the bleeding stopped? If it’s a mage at the landlord’s level, your divine power might be detected, but since the landlord will also be in a state of confusion, he won’t be able to catch such things, so you should be able to control it well enough not to get caught… He’ll surely judge and act appropriately on his own, yet useless advice keeps churning through my head. I knew the reason. I stopped speaking and stared at Narke.

“Was it okay for me to break this?”

Narke remained stubbornly silent, then offered a different answer.

“I didn’t think this object was too bad. I was always on the verge of suffocating from boredom… I couldn’t tell which came first, the chicken or the egg. I always thought it wasn’t bad as it was, and while I never intended to stay that way, I lived in Rome enjoying my own pleasures. I knew there were those who meant to harm me or harbored wrong thoughts, but I merely rested my chin and contemplated while feeling my own pleasure, never punishing them, and I accepted the heavy responsibilities entrusted to me as—actually—no heavier than the grains of sand that scatter when centuries of wind disturb the cipollino columns of this temple. I seem to have briefly not understood when I was very young, but after my head grew thick, I accepted my fate and could enjoy it reasonably well.”

That he briefly didn’t understand when very young—this was the only thing I’d heard about Narke’s childhood. I was hearing for the first time that he had adapted to the adults’ exploitation as he grew somewhat, and beyond merely enduring it, considered the duties given to him no more difficult than dust. If he meant that he was simply skilled enough to purify thousands of square meters without difficulty, making it not hard to extract and provide divine power to the family or fulfill his responsibilities as Minister of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, that seemed unlikely since I could sufficiently predict it with my existing knowledge. Instead, he seemed to be talking about something more fundamental—about his own fate.

Just three or four hours ago, he showed discomfort whenever he was forced to reveal something about himself to us. I clearly remember those troubled eyes when talking about Matteo Orsini. To that extent, Narke rarely brought up stories about his childhood—or about Rome—and didn’t want to tell us about them either, so while it would be difficult to say he was lying about there being things I was learning for the first time, it would be true that he had limited most information he disclosed to us to his extremely early childhood. Whatever it was, it was already the past. I was now hearing memories from Narke’s teenage years that he had decided not to reveal, in his own voice, and I dimly felt that he was beginning to place his feet on the ground, however unstably. But, of course, the actual Narke was still looking down at me from the railing.

“But how could this happen in just a little over half a year?”

He was speaking on the premise that I would figure it out myself. Since I could indeed grasp the thread, however faintly, it was best to listen to his words in silence.

“I didn’t know it would turn out like this, really didn’t think or calculate that it would turn out this way. How could I not have known? I am now, just like having my heart pierced by a golden arrowhead…”

His words scattered. I could tell that thoughts weren’t organized in Narke’s head either. This would be because it was his present. He knew how to vividly describe the past but kept his present self in the labyrinth of Crete. I waited for Narke’s confusion, knowing that senators from all over Rome would be whipping their horses and rushing here, because he chose to speak to me instead of keeping the confusion to himself.

“Could it be that the dissatisfaction with myself that I originally had within me has only now turned to anger? But I never thought I had such serious dissatisfaction with myself. I was often happy in Rome, and though unfulfilled ambition bloomed in my heart, I thought such youthful spirit was fuel to illuminate the mountain-like boring daily life with brilliant flames. I loved Rome and enjoyed watching flocks of sheep wandering in the wasteland outside Rome. Now houses and churches have been built on the sheep’s territory, but I still loved the sunset descending upon the earth. Even if the light illuminating the spire edges didn’t quite please me, the way light spread among the white fleece of the flock was truly delightful. I liked the sound my cassock’s hem made fluttering in the wind, and at such times I also liked the wind that grew stronger under the arcade beside the blue pond. Though I didn’t consider the church and myself right, I loved Christ in my own way. I loved the scholarly passion that burned endlessly even in moments of wanting to touch the mirror of eternal truth, loved the Vatican library placed in my hands, and loved the smell of ink freshly squeezed from ash and moss.”

“…”

“Though I felt sorry for the people who revered me, I never once found their existence bothersome. I allowed all kisses and extended my hand to raise them up. Perhaps because I didn’t have the arrogance to believe that blessing prayers would necessarily be fulfilled, I sometimes thought about returning to my room to open a book while reciting prayer texts, but I was reasonably satisfied. Even if there were things that remained unfulfilled within me, I lived leaning on them, so I didn’t harbor dissatisfaction just because they didn’t immediately come into my hands. At least until then, I had firmly believed so. So, or could it be that I’m only now realizing I had been leaning on the wrong things? Is that why what I did then without any consciousness has thus led my mind back today and drawn me here?”

From here on, I couldn’t understand. In my view, he was suffering from excessive anguish. Either his moral standards were too high, or there was a Narke I didn’t yet know. And it could be both. What was certain was that Gabrielle’s words about understanding later coincidentally flashed through my mind now. I had to remember all of this without fail.

“Perhaps you will say this to me later: Gabrielle was right.”

“…”

“Yes, Lucas. Gabrielle is right. And you will be disappointed that I said such things today. At least I’m in that state now. I am truly disappointed in myself. I feel self-loathing and indignation that I’ve never felt in my lifetime today.”

“Why.”

“What did Gabrielle say?”

I remained silent. I knew it wasn’t really a question but rather a foundation for the next words.

“Didn’t he say he wouldn’t tell you because you shouldn’t know right now? Yes, you’ll be indignant, but so am I. That’s why I’m telling you this story even knowing it solidifies self-loathing and despair about myself. You will notice if I speak like this.”

Both Gabrielle and Narke have great expectations of me. They believe I can interpret their words. Indeed, much of their words could be grasped with just my meager background knowledge—since they were talking about things only they knew.

“Even if the whole world turns its back on me, I must let everyone know. That’s the last bastion to avoid committing a greater sin.”

Narke said that and remained motionless like a statue. After a while, instead of continuing from what he had said to me, he continued from his story about loving Rome. Therefore, it sounded somewhat out of the blue.

“…That’s why I didn’t break the Pythia of Delphi. But Gabrielle was different. He loved Rome but hated it even more, and that had understandable validity. Gabrielle always looked at the horizon with blazing eyes, breathing in barren sand dust, not looking at sheep flocks like me. To Gabrielle, the wasteland near Rome and the Colosseum were barbaric arenas flowing with the smell of blood, Constantine’s triumphal arch was the victory of Romans who forgot human ethics, and the Vatican was a place of love and hate. Once Gabrielle told me he no longer wanted to stay in this terrible city where traces of damnatio memoriae remained filthily. It wasn’t that this city had a Colosseum—this city itself was a giant Colosseum.”

The mention of Constantine’s triumphal arch and damnatio memoriae is because there’s a hypothesis that Constantine’s triumphal arch might have been rebuilt from an arch constructed by Maxentius, his political enemy, as part of memory erasure. Whether the hypothesis is true or not doesn’t matter. What mattered was that they had such conversations.

“That could have been because damnatio memoriae was actually abhorrent, but it could have become even more so because everything in Rome surrounding him was hostile to his fate. So Gabrielle decided to destroy the Senate’s prophet. This object that has lived longer than our age.”

Is that why he referred to the Pythia of Delphi as an old man? Narke spoke with quiet eyes, retracing memories.

“I stood at the threshold three steps away from you and watched it. I knew it wasn’t time for our ‘Pythia of Delphi’ to be broken, but I didn’t stop him. That’s all. I stopped the adults from dragging Gabrielle away as much as I could, but I had to watch him being dragged away. And I knew that would happen too. I was satisfied with Rome and Gabrielle was not. So actually, Gabrielle didn’t consider this the Pythia of Delphi. He believed that if he stopped the Senate elders who depended on oracles to pioneer the future, his own fate could change too…”

Narke fell into deep thought before finishing his words.

“That child is a Christian to his bones.”

“What about you?”

“I am too.”

Narke smiled. Then he whispered.

“At least I believed so.”

The sound of carriage wheels stopping can be heard outside the temple. The noise of people like the sound of blazing fire gradually rolls in. Seeing that they didn’t foresee today’s events, I’m convinced that statue had to be broken today. Narke jumped down from the railing without hesitation as he always did. He tucked the still-sleeping Matteo Orsini under his arm and, with the attitude he usually had when doing unauthorized things, carefully picked up my bag and held my hand.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of an unfamiliar stone wall.

“I understand your plan well. A clue we haven’t utilized yet. Good.”

Narke said that while staring into my eyes. Having read my mind, he continued.

“He’ll come more honestly than expected. As you know, the Papal States are currently censoring all documents and correspondence, so no one sends letters with overly private content. Private letters aren’t even allowed in case codes are used.”

“The possibility of trying to decode by sending official letters to people with private personal relationships… doesn’t exist in the Papal States?”

“Hahaha. If they went that far, they couldn’t send business letters either. Still, it worked out well for us, didn’t it?”

“Right.”

I nodded and gestured to Narke.

“Then now you know where you need to go. I’ll cast invisibility magic one last time. Put on the restraints.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“…What’s fine? You need to wear restraints to cross the barrier. Even if you take them off right after entering.”

When first entering the Marcellus Theater mansion, I received Narke’s help—invisibility magic after wearing restraints—and when entering the Monterotondo mansion the second time, I crossed the barrier with Matteo Orsini so I didn’t need to wear restraints. However, Narke shook his head.

“Right. But my magic power is registered in this barrier, so it’s fine.”

“Then you could have gone in earlier?!”

Then Narke burst into laughter. He waved his hand and whispered.

“Sorry. The feeling of foresight wasn’t good for that. It seems like either choice would have inevitably led to meeting Matteo. I did it because it didn’t seem like dangerous things would happen if you went in, but if a future of experiencing great trouble in the mansion had been drawn, I wouldn’t have told you to enter the mansion.”

“…Geez… Alright.”

Though I said that, I somehow understood. The ‘oracle of Delphi’ given to Matteo is, if interpreted according to its name, an unavoidable event. Meeting Narke was something that had to happen today at any time. If meeting for 0.1 seconds could count as meeting, the oracle was fulfilled.

I received Matteo Orsini from Narke, changed clothes, parted with Narke, and tapped my ear.

“Elias, still nothing?”

Knowing I was asking if any letters had arrived at the communication room, he answered immediately.

[Yeah. Nothing. What was that earlier?!]

“Something happened. Something that will turn Rome upside down… Is the mansion empty now?”

[Yeah. Everyone’s leaving, everyone’s leaving. I thought there was a fire or something. I won’t die staying here, right?]

“Of course not. Did you secure the warp point?”

[Yeah.]

Elias used my words as a signal to call out the warp point coordinates. I put the coordinates into the formula I heard from Narke earlier and stomped my foot.

“Wow~”

Elias catches me. He looked at Matteo Orsini tucked under my arm, narrowed his eyes, then led me outside. Elias, standing in front of another building within the mansion grounds, once again picked the lock with his master key—wire—put on silver restraints all over his body, and entered the building. I did the same.

Upon entering, this place was a document storage. Following Cheringen’s method, I high-fived the perceptive Elias.

Why did I evaluate him as perceptive? Because he knew that my initial plan to identify the culprit through arriving letters was gradually becoming useless. From now on, we would look for letters that had already arrived, and what we needed to find then was the Papal Secretary of State.

The very first hypothesis we didn’t utilize from the St. Mark clue. We need to utilize that now. Because Ainsiedel wouldn’t have passed on clues that would be interpreted in the wrong direction.

We connected the Secretary of State from St. Mark, and accepting Elias’s opinion that this was insufficient, focusing on Ainsiedel’s irony of applying St. Mark to find negative figures, Elias derived an answer from the question ‘who could regard St. Mark negatively’ and presented how negativity could be combined with St. Mark, and St. Theodorus was presented then.

So what does St. Theodorus, Venice’s first patron saint who was pushed out by St. Mark, symbolize? We heard about the relationship between the Cardinal Nephew and the Secretary of State from Narke, who understood the situation. From the history where the Secretary of State replaced the Cardinal Nephew, who was the Emperor’s secretary composed of relatives, after its abolition, we could deduce that the Cardinal Nephew was St. Theodorus and the Secretary of State was St. Mark.

From here, the ways to connect clues are infinite. We focused on the negativity overlaid on Mark and first deduced that the culprit would be on the side wearing the reversed icon of St. Theodorus, so we began investigating the Orsini family, who would originally have been Cardinal Nephews, and now we’re here. However, the new problem now touches on the issue Elias first raised: if Ainsiedel applied St. Mark to tell us there’s a culprit in the Secretary of State, then among the numerous employees of the Secretary of State, who is the culprit? Similarly, if Orsini is the culprit, among these numerous Orsinis, who is the culprit?

So from now on, I felt the need to combine hypotheses. The Secretary of State was the first hypothesis and the second hypothesis was Orsini, so should I combine the two and find an Orsini in the Secretary of State? However, there are no Orsinis in the Secretary of State.

So I had to find an Orsini who communicates with the Secretary of State. There’s one thing that bothers me, so I’ll interrogate whether they’re really the culprit, but that’s the next matter. Having removed the restraints again, I quietly pushed divine power into the end of my staff.

—Seek and you shall find.

“Secretary of State.”

Pure white divine power spreads in all directions. Since Narke said letters would come more honestly than expected, the Papal States’ spy would reveal their identity ‘more honestly than expected.’

I took a deep breath and counted seconds. No light came from anywhere. This meant there wasn’t a single letter exchanged with the Secretary of State, despite being in the mansion of the Orsinis, a clerical family that produced a Pope. Did that make sense? Looking around carefully, I exchanged glances with Elias and smiled.

Among the Orsinis living in the Monterotondo mansion, there is a culprit, at least an accomplice. Then who would have the authority to cleanly clear out the document storage?

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