Chapter 379

Chapter 368

Ismailov looked at us in silence. Those blue eyes began to feel chilling in a different sense. He looked at the beer sloshing at the brim of the glass and said evenly.

"It's alcohol."

"That's right! What kind~?"

'Isn't he the one treating him like a dog....'

I clicked my tongue at Elias's antics. Ismailov paid no mind to the excessive reaction and steadfastly maintained his composure.

"It appears to be beer."

"Beer from where~?"

"I don't know."

"Ahh...."

Elias let his shoulders droop, then immediately said with finality.

"At times like this, you have to take a guess even if you're wrong, Sir Ismailov."

"Why?"

"It's not an absolute rule, but it's good for keeping the mood going~ If you say 'I don't know' that seriously, it's hard to salvage."

'Suddenly practical....'

The usual Elias wouldn't actually react like this. Wasn't he the friend who'd just prattle on by himself and fish for a response no matter how seriously anyone said they didn't know? Moreover, if Elias were in Ismailov's position, he'd simply do as he pleased—and even if he could read the room, he'd smash everything if it didn't suit him.

He seemed to be going out of his way, for Ismailov's sake, to explain things he'd normally leave unsaid—even topics he himself disliked, in a sense—though whether it would help, I couldn't say. Maybe Heike had learned something from Elias, not just from Ulrike. In any case, Ismailov glanced at me and answered this, too, in earnest.

"Understood. But I don't know what beers exist in Bavaria."

"Study up!"

"Is he drunk already? Unbelievable."

Leo yanked the back of Elias's shirt and swore at him with his eyes. Elias spread his hands in acknowledgment, then pulled out more glasses, banged them down on the ground, and handed one to each of us.

"You should all revere Heike as a lifelong benefactor."

At that, Mecklenburg smiled pleasantly, putting on his public-facing good-boy act.

"So Heike Ainsidel is the ringleader."

"......"

"It's a truly impressive technique. I won't report it anywhere. In exchange, you must not pull this sort of thing once you return to Command headquarters and the official residences."

"Naturally."

Elias nearly let his temper show for a moment, then smiled smoothly and flicked his eyebrows. Knowing the resentment toward Mecklenburg hadn't fully dissolved among my friends, I read the mood between the two and then fired at Mecklenburg.

"A lecture? That's unlike you."

"Guidance is a senior's duty, Sir Askanian."

I nearly tipped Ismailov off that a guy like that would be first in line for expulsion from any drinking party, but stopped. Because I would never again create an insane situation like this with this lineup. I cast Sound Insulation Magic again and asked in a low voice.

"It's amusing to hear you invoke a senior's duty. Not stopping this, but endorsing it—you must be confident?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You must have spent all twenty-five years of your life drinking. At school, you didn't even take kindly to wine—how curious."

Mecklenburg made a puzzled face at that, then quickly answered without a shred of shame.

"I don't know what you're referring to, but I am skilled at restraint. Besides, the reason Sir Elias Hohenzollern brought alcohol now is to extract a confession, is it not? Setting the mood works to our advantage."

I looked at him in silence, then broke the Sound Insulation Magic and muttered.

"Pace yourself, then."

When I looked forward again, everyone except Ismailov was waiting on us. Ismailov was merely staring at the glass placed before him, so it was hard to say he was waiting. Elias grinned and asked.

"Done talking~?"

"Yeah."

"Then, cheers."

Elias raised his glass to eye level and stared us down.

"To Sir Ismailov."

"Cheers."

"Why did it get so heavy again, all of a sudden?"

Leo muttered that and downed his drink. Since Ismailov was staring blankly at empty air with no reaction, Elias had to guide each of his movements with his other hand. Having somehow managed to clink glasses that way, and while the rest of us tipped our beer back, Ismailov set his glass on the ground and watched us. Only belatedly noticing this, Elias's jaw dropped and he shouted.

"You're supposed to drink! Who toasts and then doesn't drink?!"

"I see."

"Not 'I see'~! Hurry up and drink!"

"But I don't drink beer."

"What kind of—we should revoke his German citizen— oh, he's not German. Then does he drink vodka?"

The faces of every 'German who also dislikes beer' I knew flashed through my head in a row. Leo seemed to think the same, looking at Elias with incredulous eyes. Ismailov, regardless, answered with finality.

"Eucharistic wine."

"What? What's a cultist doing with the Eucharist.... Take this chance to start on beer!"

"But drinking is a sin."

"Drinking Jesus's blood isn't drinking?"

"It is not."

"Then why not drink real blood—why wine? I heard from him that you don't drink blood."

Ismailov, unable to parse this question that had dissolved into pure chaos, only blinked. I, too, wondered what on earth this conversation had become. Leo sighed and answered.

"No need to answer. Instead, go ahead and drink. He'll keep at it if you don't."

"I cannot drink anything whose safety has not been verified."

"So that's the problem~!"

Elias snatched Ismailov's glass without ceremony. Despite having beer in his own glass, he gulped down about a quarter of Ismailov's, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and passed the beer glass back to Ismailov.

"I drank it too, right? Go on."

Ismailov stared into Elias's eyes, then brought the glass to his lips. He swallowed one mouthful and slowly lowered the glass. For the first time, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them narrowly.

"......"

Everyone's gaze fixed on him. We all seemed equally curious how someone drinking alcohol for the very first time—a Pleroma prophet, no less—would react. In the flowing silence, Ismailov spoke.

"It tastes bad."

'So he has a sense of taste.'

He was so stiff that I'd assumed he could drink even this without batting an eye.

"Tastes bad...? Then what do you like?"

"Nothing."

"Then unfortunately I can't accommodate you...."

Elias made a crestfallen face, then smiled and patted his shoulder.

"What are you doing? Hurry up and drink."

"It tastes bad."

"At times like this, you just drink~"

Ismailov looked back and forth between the drink and empty air. But the hesitation wasn't long, and he obediently did as Elias wished. Taking advantage of Elias's attention being poured onto Ismailov, I drank only a quarter of a sip at a time. Narce, still silent, seemed to be doing the same.

And so, an hour passed.

"Hey now, you're not burning it off with Divine Power, are you?! Isn't that bad manners? Huh?"

"Is what this person uses actually Divine Power?"

I heard Elias's scolding and Mecklenburg's question. Lying on the damp lawn looking at the sky, I turned my gaze to Ismailov.

Ismailov sat upright with his eyes closed. It had been established that the Pleroma Messiah could not hold his drink.

"Someone falling asleep after three glasses...."

Mecklenburg let out a hollow laugh, watching Ismailov's closed eyes. Nothing wrong with sleeping. It seemed Mecklenburg's 'why wouldn't I be confident' hadn't been bravado. He wasn't drunk in the slightest.

Just then, Ismailov spoke with his eyes still closed.

"My tongue has stiffened and words do not come easily. When I open my eyes, I lose my sense of direction and sleep keeps coming."

Elias, who had been steadily downing drinks without so much as a snack, widened his eyes.

"Who asked for a progress report? Anyone can see you're drunk."

"Then what should I do?"

"Keep drinking! Where's the time for talking!"

"Hey! Stop it...!"

Elias pretended not to hear Leo's restraint and gestured to Ismailov.

"Hm, actually no. Tell us more of your impressions."

"It tastes bad. Normal thought is difficult. A considerable feeling of elation has arisen, and it induces irrational thinking."

At that, Elias brought his face close to him, grinning round and round.

"Elation~? Why is that?"

"Alcohol acts on the brain—"

"Wrong! It's because you've gotten close to us!"

'What a stretch....'

I looked at Mecklenburg with the feeling of looking at the last brake, but the guy was simply watching with interest. Ismailov didn't bow to Elias's coercion and steadfastly recited what he had learned.

"But according to what I have learned, alcohol—"

"No. Would you have enjoyed this much if you'd drunk alone? Been this excited and elated? Absolutely not. It's all because we're here."

"But...."

"Come on. At times like this, just say 'understood'~"

"Understood."

At this rate, isn't this brainwashing without Divine Power? That he was still answering dutifully even to lines like these meant the conversation I'd had with him earlier had helped, apparently. Elias pushed Ismailov's shoulder, toppling him to the ground, and lay down beside him.

"By the way, why is your hair that color? No way you were born like that."

"It was like this from the beginning."

"Impossible. This is the first time in my life I've seen hair my color. One guy I only heard about secondhand, so let's call it two?"

"......"

"You know a blond like mine is rare, don't you? Especially for me, the only one in my family who came out this pale—I can't help finding you remarkable. My whole life I never met anyone with hair as bright as mine, and now two similar guys turn up in Pleroma. You understand why I'm asking, right?"

In other words, he was asking whether it had been artificially altered or not. Ismailov latched onto an irrelevant point and answered.

"It is not blond. It is white hair."

"Ah, right. I figured your people would've taught you that. But this is unequivocally platinum blond."

"It is white hair."

"It's blond."

Elias answered sharply, scratching his throat. Leo tossed in a remark as if unbothered by the reaction.

"It does look like white hair."

"Looks like! Nearly white hair is unequivocally classified as blond."

"White? So you admit it."

"I said 'nearly' white~"

These childhood friends needed to be separated. At this rate it was obvious nothing but pointless talk would follow. I asked a question connected to Elias's, yet closer to the essence.

"Sir Ismailov. What did you do before entering Pleroma?"

The question he'd been unable to answer earlier. Ismailov, even with drink-glazed eyes, steadfastly didn't answer, and—perhaps wanting to recover a clear head—asked a question of his own instead.

"May I remove some of the alcohol with magic?"

"...He asks these things. That's up to—"

I whispered while glancing toward Elias, but Elias had already bellowed.

"No! If you're going to break it down, why drink at all?"

'...This conversation keeps bouncing off somewhere else.'

Was it hopeless? Since I had to be attached to him for a set number of hours a day regardless, I'd wanted to gather as much information as possible—but I might need to aim for times when Elias wasn't around. Just as I pressed my head and started to snort, an answer came out of nowhere.

"There is no previous life."

"...You were born outside Pleroma. And yet no previous life? Why?"

"I only say there is none because there is none."

He looked at the sky and slowly closed and opened his eyes. A transparent voice followed.

"The most distant of my memories is of a small church in Werszeningken."

"Werszeningken?"

"A rural village at the edge of Pillkallen. The church I was in was a place where Russia could be seen across the fields, and a fig tree preserved with magic power was the only thing worth seeing."

Everyone's presence fell quiet. It was the first moment he had spoken at length. Something no one had asked, recounted with an uncharacteristic air of reminiscence. Having no intention of missing his words, I asked calmly.

"Pillkallen—that's East Prussia. Not an environment where a fig tree could grow, so preserving it must have been difficult. Remarkable."

"It was a local attraction. I remember the pastor tending it as if it were precious."

"......"

I exchanged glances with Elias and Narce.

"A memory from what age?"

"When I was three."

"Then how did you come to enter Pleroma?"

"The pastor who raised me was a Pleroma."

"So that's why you said 'Pleroma' from the beginning. Then how did you come to be in Werszeningken?"

"Magic scholars who crossed over from Russia left me at the church and disappeared."

I could see Narce wearing a mordant smile. Thinking it fortunate that Ismailov didn't see it, I asked.

"Was your name given by the pastor?"

"I was told it was given by the one who made me."

"......"

The materials Leo had researched contained information on the surname Ismailov, along with records and rumors of missing New Humans from Russia. Recalling one passage among them, I said:

"Ismailov is not a noble family's surname. And you are... a New Human."

"I know."

After that, no one spoke. As the sounds of wind and water flowed through the silence, Elias suddenly shouted again.

"So this guy's only Russian in name—he's a German who grew up in Germany. Then why is this your first beer?! Huh?"

"Russians drink beer too."

"If you know that, then what's the problem?"

"Drinking is a sin."

"This mentality must be corrected."

'...I can't keep up.'

My head was spinning. At Elias's words, Leo scolded in a fed-up voice.

"You should try living with the knowledge that it's a sin. I'm done drinking."

"No! You need to get a little drunk."

"Why me too?! Seriously!"

"It makes a fun picture in itself."

I ignored their conversation, propped my chin, and lay watching Ismailov. Thinking that I should mix in my own stories so this man could speak without discomfort, I chose a topic and opened my mouth.

"As you know, I grew up being branded a Pleroma."

"So I was told."

"In your eyes, am I a Pleroma?"

"I don't know. But I like you."

What does that have to do with anything? I answered lukewarmly.

"Ah, yes.... I suppose Pleroma must only befriend Pleroma?"

"That thing you just said—!"

Leo, who had already been eyeing Ismailov with suspicion, rose from his seat. I hastily advised Ismailov.

"It would be best not to say such things aloud if you can help it. There are cases where it gets misunderstood like this."

"How?"

"......"

How should I answer that? I pointed at Leo and answered roughly.

"Like this. Let's talk about something else. Why do you not drink blood, despite being a Pleroma?"

"I was told that drinking blood causes contamination."

In that moment, my eyes met my friends'. It had been a story hastily thrown out to change the subject, yet an unexpectedly interesting answer came back.

"Contamination. But many Pleroma drink, don't they?"

"I was told that I must not. Above all, I have not the slightest desire to drink blood."

"They forbade it for you alone...."

Worth remembering. I exchanged signals with my friends through glances and asked.

"Then, is there anything you're curious about regarding me now?"

"Why do I like you?"

"......"

"Ha...."

Elias let out a hollow laugh. Momentarily dumbfounded, I cleared my throat and glanced toward Leo. Ismailov, oblivious to the situation, peered into my eyes and spoke in a clear voice.

"Your eyes are just like flames."

"Mine? They are a similar color...."

"No. Not the color—"

"That's enough!"

I should refrain from bringing up myself from now on. Mecklenburg was laughing under his breath. Cold sweat broke out as the stares boring into my back from behind felt like they were drilling through.

Checking my watch, it had been nearly two hours since we'd come here. The more information the better, but there was no harm in stopping here and asking again tomorrow. Ismailov was saying strange things, whether drunk or unhinged, so it was time to wrap up.

"That's enough of that. Tell us about those Russian scholars. I'm curious."

Ismailov sank into thought about what to say, then answered.

"I know nothing. All I know is that I was placed at the church together with seven golden candlesticks."

Seven golden candlesticks. When those words came out, we could all call something to mind.

"Did those scholars leave them?"

"I don't know. Even though he could have sold that gold to support the church's operations, the pastor stored it in the church, saying he would give it to me when I came of age."

"I see."

I looked at Narce once, then asked again.

"Since when have you been the messenger of the covenant that Pleroma speaks of?"

"From the beginning."

"So it would seem. To think such a myth was being written in a rural village on the Russian border."

I slowly rose and looked at my friends. They seemed to have grasped it too, wearing the same expression as me.

***

"It's a myth. Literally a myth."

I said this, setting down on the table the materials Leo had handed me.

After escorting Ismailov to his room, we had gathered together in one of Nymphenburg's small outbuildings.

"That person mistakes memories newly created by Pleroma for his own childhood."

In other words, if what I said was true, Pleroma had stripped Ismailov of even his childhood. How that was possible, I still couldn't say precisely.

"Why do you think so?"

Elias was asking me the reason despite already knowing it all. I smiled crookedly and shrugged.

"Mages from the East brought some baby to a church along with seven golden candlesticks, didn't they? And on top of that, at the far edge of East Prussia—completely removed from any Mediterranean climate—there's a fig tree preserved with magic power? It's all strangely jumbled together, isn't it?"

"Hahaha~"

"It's far too artificial, but we still have to keep in mind the possibility that it's real. You never know how things will turn out."

Just then, Narce, who had been smiling the whole time, lowered his eyes and whispered.

"...It's unpleasant. Insulting."

"Ah, right. Our orthodox cardinal here suffered through listening to heretical nonsense. And it was no ordinary nonsense either."

"No, that's not the sense in which I meant it."

Narce bowed his head and closed his eyes. As a suffocating silence stretched on, Leo heaved a long sigh and said:

"...We'll need to investigate Werszeningken in Pillkallen."

"We need to be wary of setting foot there at all. It's completely undeveloped, and as far as I know, at the far edge of East Prussia the population of a single district barely reaches three digits. It's impossible for outsiders to go in for an investigation."

At my words, Elias raised his eyebrows with an intrigued face.

"Not even three digits.... It's natural for the countryside to be sparse, but you know it in detail. How?"

"Because of the Anhalt sugar beet industry."

When it comes to sugar beet production, people in the twenty-first century commonly think of Russia, but at present it's a product Germany is actively researching and developing. Sugar beets are among the crops grown in Anhalt, with its abundant farmland, and likewise there are many places in East Prussia that cultivate them. However, the far edge of East Prussia is relatively difficult for sugar beet cultivation, and few people live there because of the weather. I knew this because I'd researched East Prussia as well when studying which products gave Anhalt a competitive edge. But now wasn't the time to explain where I'd learned this information.

"Pleroma will already have planted people in that region. It may be a trap to lure us there."

Leo nodded at my words.

"Perhaps. Then we can investigate people who lived in or around Pillkallen up to about ten years ago and then moved elsewhere."

"Right. That's good~ So, Luka, now that you've talked with him, tell us the hypothesis you'd been holding. Why did that guy come here?"

I need to gather more clues. The two hypotheses I'd initially formed had already multiplied into several, so the clues needing collection had grown as well. Still, I nodded first.

"First: if they truly intend to make Ismailov into a god, then sending him aboveground carries meaning in itself. In this case, simply descending to the surface and living here fulfills the condition."

The condition for 'divinity' to manifest, that is. In a word, he's here to stack up trials. In their 'new covenant,' we are the Roman army, and Ismailov is the persecuted only begotten Son.

"That's a wildly fantastical hypothesis."

"That's what I'm saying. Still, without knowing what Pleroma's prophecy actually contains, even fantastical hypotheses need to be given meaningful consideration. Second: similar, but slightly different. He has to fulfill some additional condition after descending to the surface in order to fully realize his own divinity. For example, having to steal something like a holy relic, or having to create his own 'apostles.'"

"Mm."

Elias nodded in satisfaction.

"Good. More rational than the absurd nonsense about simply coming for peace. But the question is what exactly that condition is."

"That's what we have to interpret from here on."

"Ah, good. But one more thing."

I raised my eyebrows to signal him to speak. Elias tilted his head and smiled.

"You didn't mention the most crucial part."

"You know me well."

"The third~?"

"Too early to say now. I need more clues."

"Mm, alright...."

I shifted my gaze from the slumped Elias to my other friends.

"Before we exchange the information each of us has gathered, let's try some interpretation. Narce, what do you make of the seven golden candlesticks?"

Seven golden candlesticks. And seven stars. The story from Revelation in which 'one like the Son of Man appeared in John's vision among seven golden candlesticks, holding seven stars in His right hand.' Narce, eyes closed, began reciting scripture.

"...And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp twoedged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last: I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death. Write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter."

"Hmm."

"What matters is what comes next. The seven stars are the angels of the seven churches: and the seven candlesticks are the seven churches. That's what we need to think about."

"Whoa. How did you memorize this~?"

"Haha. Ismailov said he came with seven golden candlesticks. So... just as Lukas said, this is a myth. True or not, Pleroma's prophecy began like this."

At that, Elias shrugged and sneered.

"That may be, but it feels like they just slapped symbols on. Cult-like."

"Even if they only slapped symbols on, Pleroma will ultimately try to make what they've said into reality. I can't recount every theologian's interpretation, so briefly: the seven here can also signify 'all.' In other words, the seven golden candlesticks could be interpreted as all of Pleroma's dioceses."

Elias nodded at Narce's answer.

"Makes sense. Then the seven stars are their leadership, aren't they? If so, they should've placed seven stars too—why put the gold there but no seven stars?"

"Placing seven star-shaped objects would look a bit...."

Just imagining it made me laugh hollowly. I said that and added my own thought.

"If the memory Pleroma planted in Ismailov is actually related to their prophecy, then the seven golden candlesticks—the churches, that is—are only temporarily held by the pastor and are already in Ismailov's hands. Isn't that the same as the Pleroma leadership running Pleroma in place of Ismailov, who has not yet become a god? But the seven stars are not in Ismailov's hands now. They were never there from the beginning."

"Never there from the beginning."

Elias asked back seriously.

This is thinking strictly on the premise of it being a 'myth.' It sounds sarcastic to keep calling the childhood of someone who isn't even a god a myth—and to be truthful, it partly is—so I'm sorry to Ismailov, but no matter how I look at it, that's not his own memory but an artificial story.

'I'm hopeless at these fantastical speculations.'

As if wanting verification, my friends looked at Narce. Narce said nothing and only looked at me. I pressed my head and continued the thought a little further.

"Considering that in Pleroma's prophecy 'the Lord whom you seek' comes after 'the messenger of the covenant,' the divinity held by the messenger of the covenant is incomplete. In other words... he may need to find the seven stars that were absent from Ismailov's myth in order to find his own divinity."

"......"

"The second hypothesis could apply here. Pleroma may have sent Mikhail Ismailov here to find the seven stars."

Narrowly: seven people who will become the angels of his church. Broadly: making the world Pleroma's... it can be interpreted these two ways.

But if the latter is the condition for finding divinity, it falls into contradiction. Making the world Pleroma's is what happens when 'the Lord' comes—yet he can only become 'the Lord' by making the world Pleroma's? Therefore, this time the seven stars seem better interpreted not as 'all' but as literally seven, or a comparably small number.

For some reason, silence flowed. Then Leo asked with a hardened face.

"Seven?"