Chapter 415

The control room sat at the top of a steel staircase built like a ladder. It was little more than a fenced platform attached to a lift, and from the moment Mecklenburg stepped onto the first rung, magic swallowed the surroundings in darkness. Nothing changed after he pulled open the door.

The only light came from the enormous screen floating beyond the railing, its harsh glow stinging his eyes. On the table lay several neatly arranged documents listing the participants’ information, alongside blank sheets of paper.

When the door opened, Adrian Askanien had just dipped his quill into the ink. Without so much as turning around, he glanced back and forth between the screen and the papers, scribbling down his evaluations at remarkable speed. Only after the door shut and Mecklenburg’s footsteps came to a stop did Adrian set down his pen, take a breath, and turn around.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“When it’s just the two of us, you don’t have to be so formal, Albert.”

Mecklenburg remained silent for a moment before answering quietly.

“Do you not realize where we are, Your Excellency?”

Irritation welled up inside him. Because the mage population was so much smaller than that of ordinary people, it was only natural for a single mage to hold several positions at once. That was even more true in combat magic. Mecklenburg had never resented the system—he had benefited from it himself—but standing before the person who was simultaneously a member of the Imperial Mage Association’s 89th Unit, Deputy Minister of Magic, and a Major in the Prussian Army… even if two of those titles had effectively become one and the same, he could hardly feel at ease as a member of the 98th Unit.

Adrian looked briefly surprised by his old friend’s stiffness, then gave him a gentle, understanding smile. His gaze shifted to the screen showing a “Mecklenburg” who behaved nothing like Albert Mecklenburg ever would. The softness never left Adrian’s face, but there was unmistakable resolve behind it.

“Before anything else, regarding Lord Wettin’s disrespectful remarks—”

“You don’t need to apologize on his behalf.”

Adrian simply looked at him. Damn it. Mecklenburg bit the inside of his lip and lowered his eyes. Adrian hadn’t been offended. He wasn’t angry, nor irritated, nor did he take Mecklenburg’s bluntness personally. If anything, he’d fallen silent out of consideration for his friend. That only made Mecklenburg feel worse. The one who had forgotten where they were… was himself.

“My apologies.”

“His skill is truly remarkable.”

As though nothing had happened, Adrian Askanien turned back and ran a hand over the evaluation sheet as he spoke. He had to be referring to Lukas Askanien. Mecklenburg’s gaze shifted between the two figures on the screen—himself, disheveled and rampaging across the arena, and Ulrike Kleist, still perfectly neat thanks to the Mimesis field’s initial settings. Moments ago, the younger Askanien’s forearm had been cut open, blood dripping from the hand gripping his sword down to his elbow. Yet Adrian Askanien still praised his performance. Of course, since he was following a strategy. There was no reason not to.

Adrian turned around, perched himself on the edge of the table, and quietly studied Mecklenburg’s expression. Mecklenburg looked away. He knew his guilt was written all over his face. He knew he had no reason to feel that way, but whenever power became involved, the same thought always surfaced, leaving nothing but bitter disgust. The mood seemed to ease a little. Adrian picked up the crystal glass beside him, gently swirling the cherry-colored brandy with a faint smile.

“If we’re talking about my younger brother rather than Vice Captain Lukas Askanien of the 101st Unit, don’t you think honorifics are unnecessary?”

“I’m up next. May I return and prepare for the next session?”

“I think you’d do well to stay until this is over.”

Adrian beckoned him over with a flick of his fingers. Noticing how stiff his old friend was, he held out the glass of brandy. One word of refusal would probably have been enough. Adrian would have simply nodded and let it go. But this wasn’t a meeting between friends. Here, Mecklenburg couldn’t bring himself to say no. He despised himself for it.

He took a single sip.

The brandy spread warmth through his stomach, as though raising his body temperature. At the same time, nausea crept up his throat. Adrian Askanien certainly hadn’t dirtied the drink, but still…

Adrian stared at the screen with a distant look in his eyes. He stayed silent long enough that Mecklenburg began wondering if he should ask why he’d been called here. Then Adrian finally spoke.

“My brother never had the chance to live as freely as he does now. All because of that disgraceful rumor that he could absorb other people’s mana like a first generation Pleroma.”

“It was nothing more than a rumor. The treatment was completely successful.”

“I’m happier than I can put into words.”

“…….”

“Not only has my brother become a healthy member of society… seeing him display such remarkable skill even now still doesn’t feel real. Even though he is right here before my eyes.”

Truly inappropriate. Talking about family here of all places. Mecklenburg kept his eyes on the screen, waiting for Adrian to continue.

“People love to say House Anhalt has been cursed.”

“…….”

“What an absurd thing to say. The curse hanging over my family was never Lukas Askanien himself. The only curse we’ve ever suffered was a world that refused to accept him and chose to reject him instead. I believe you know better than anyone that, when I was a teenager, nothing mattered more to me than my brother’s happiness.”

“…….”

“As you know, I don’t have the time to speak with everyone individually. Nor do I have the opportunity to thank each person properly. So forgive me for expressing my gratitude here. But before that…”

Of course you don’t. Instead of wasting time with the likes of us, you have strategy meetings with the people above. Mecklenburg swallowed, forcing the thought away with a trace of bitterness. His throat burned. The question he had expected from the moment he’d been summoned was finally about to be asked.

“Have you ever taught Lukas Askanien magic?”

Mecklenburg’s breath caught. Facing Adrian Askanien’s ever-gentle smile—a smile that never revealed what lay beneath—his eyes sharpened.

What made you think that? The hollow question lingered at the tip of his tongue.

No. Adrian had never said he did think so. He wasn’t asserting that Mecklenburg had taught Lukas Askanien. His instincts, honed through years of friendship, told him as much. This wasn’t proof that Adrian had fallen for Lukas Askanien’s deception like everyone else. He was only asking whether he had ever taught him. He couldn’t afford to answer carelessly.

“What if I have?”

Adrian’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. Mecklenburg knew why. He’d come out more aggressively than he needed to.

Before long, Adrian Askanien was wearing the same clear, easy smile he had back in their academy days. He rolled his loosened shirtsleeve back up and perched himself on the edge of the table. Looking up at Mecklenburg, who still stood with his hands clasped behind his back, he spoke.

“I’m only saying this because my brother isn’t here.”

“…….”

What was he about to say? Mecklenburg curled his fingers tighter behind his back as he looked down at his friend—someone who still moved effortlessly between public duty and private sentiment, yet somehow never drew criticism for it. If anything, people admired him for it. He didn’t think that someone who hid things from his own brother would spill them to a friend. Even so, now that Mecklenburg knew Nikolaus’s identity, every word Adrian spoke carried weight.

“No matter what happens… will you stand by my brother?”

“…….”

“Albert.”

The strength drained from his body. The light from the screen reflected beneath Adrian Askanien’s eyes, whose quiet stillness reminded Mecklenburg of a winter sea, pulling him toward unfathomable depths. There was a purity in them, the same feeling one found gazing upon the crucifix hanging in a confessional. His voice, calm to the point of unsettling, drifted through the room.

“The succession dispute has thrown the whole country into turmoil. The press and the blades of our generation are all pointed at me and my brother.”

“…….”

“Can you help make sure he doesn’t break under all that, when he’s only just stepped into the world?”

Everything sounded muffled. “He’s not like us, who’ve had to face the entire Empire since we were children. Luka…” Adrian kept speaking, but the words reached him only faintly, as though he were submerged underwater.

“…He’s a new face. Anyone can use him for their own political ends. The happiness he’s only just found could disappear like a midsummer night’s dream. I’m not asking you to look after him simply because you’re his senior. Even if I have to leave Germany before long… I want him to have an adult he can trust.”

Mecklenburg stood frozen, unable to answer. Adrian Askanien wasn’t looking at him either. They stared in different directions, silence hanging heavily between them despite the noise outside. Adrian was the first to speak again.

“There’s something I’ve never told you before.”

“…….”

“Even our father can’t take Luka’s side. He doesn’t tell me everything, but I can tell well enough what kind of situation he’s caught up in.”

“You want me to…?”

“I’m not asking you to become his godfather, haha.”

I know that! Is this really the time to joke? Mecklenburg knew it was only a bitter laugh, but it did nothing to ease his frustration. He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, a deep crease forming between his brows.

“…I’m not the right person for this. I don’t even understand why you’re asking me. I…”

Was this his way of getting Mecklenburg to reveal what he knew about Lukas Askanien?

He was no longer young enough to fall helplessly for Adrian Askanien’s carefully crafted façade. He knew better than most how Adrian treated adults, friends, seniors, and juniors—how naturally he wore whatever mask suited the occasion. After all, there had scarcely been a time in his life when Adrian Askanien hadn’t been beside him. But when family was involved…

Confusion consumed his thoughts.

Adrian had called him all the way here, yet he hadn’t interrogated him about Lukas Askanien or tried to coax information out of him through carefully placed questions. Why?

Then what if Lukas Askanien truly harbored dangerous ambitions? Even so, Mecklenburg had never agreed with the public’s image of Adrian Askanien as a sage of these turbulent times. Nikolaus Ernst was still the hero who had saved millions of lives.

But what if, caught between these two mad brothers, Mecklenburg himself had been drawn into some scheme whose purpose he didn’t even understand? The possibility Lukas Askanien had warned him about flashed through his mind. Yet the confusion refused to fade.

“I know you. You hardly ever write to me, and you’ve always been stiff with me—even now you’re treating me like we’re strangers. If I asked you to tell me how Luka was doing, you’d never do it. Not when you’re the representative of the 98th Unit and busy enough to barely catch your breath. But…”

Adrian lowered his head slightly as he smiled, a lock of pale hair falling across his forehead. For just a moment, he looked more carefree, almost like the Adrian Mecklenburg remembered from their academy days. Every word, every gesture, filled Mecklenburg with a self-destructive disgust. He couldn’t tell whether Adrian’s request was sincere, nor did he want to believe it was. But if it truly was…

Then once again, Mecklenburg would be left alone as the worst friend imaginable. It was a feeling both of them knew all too well. Adrian lifted his head and looked him straight in the eye before continuing.

“I know that, in your own way, you’re kinder than anyone—and that you’re someone people can always rely on.”

Mecklenburg looked at his oldest and closest friend, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little.

Bang—

From the screen came the sound of someone being strangled, followed by the countdown. Adrian Askanien didn’t so much as acknowledge the noise behind him. At that moment, it was as if only the two of them existed in the room. His eyes never left Mecklenburg’s.

“Can you promise me, Albert? That no matter what happens, you will stand by my brother.”

Two minutes earlier.

‘Ah, shit… I’m running out of stamina.’

Nepomucena Wettin was charging at me wearing Mecklenburg’s face. As for me, one look at my arms—and a quick touch to confirm my facial structure—told me I was definitely Ulrike.

‘But…’

As expected. A top-tier mage wasn’t called top-tier for nothing. There was a reason he’d been Captain of the 98th C, and a reason he’d always been confident enough to challenge Mecklenburg’s position as unit representative. If it had been some average opponent, I’d have thrown him out within a minute or two. But that was impossible this time. If anything, judging by experience alone, I should’ve been the one getting thrown out immediately.

‘Haha…’

Honestly, just keeping up with him was a miracle. It always had been, but lasting this long against someone with nearly twenty years of experience? I ought to send my thanks to my legendary Bavarian instructor.

Clang—

I parried Wettin’s sword after he slipped behind me in the blink of an eye and muttered, “You’re bleeding, Senior.”

Slash— Bang!

“I know.”

Retreating far into the distance, Wettin wiped the blood dripping down his chin as if it were nothing, grinning with a glint in his eyes. For such a strange human to belong to the Association… I twisted the corners of my mouth, looking for an opportunity to change my sword into a staff, but I had to parry once again. Wettin’s heavy sword seemed to crash down from above. Just as I tried to push it aside, that sword somehow lunged upward from below.

Clang—! Screeech—

A sharp ache shot through my wrist. The instant Wettin sensed the slight break in my guard, mana surged into his blade, sending my arm flying wide.

Slash.

I threw myself backward, but not before the edge grazed my temple. Warm blood trickled down the side of my face. How many minutes had we been stuck in this exhausting deadlock now? My arms and legs were starting to tremble. At least Ulrike had slicked my hair back perfectly when we first set up the Mimesis. It stayed neatly in place, leaving my vision clear enough for me to react without obstruction.

But this couldn’t go on forever. If I didn’t want to take the full force of his blows, all I could do was keep redirecting them and retreating. The weight behind every strike was on a completely different level, and with the gap in our swordsmanship, exploiting an opening wasn’t realistic. More importantly, my sword had been forged specifically for my build—it was never meant to absorb this kind of overwhelming force. His entire strategy was obvious. Wear me down until I couldn’t cast magic anymore.

‘Damn it… Seriously…’

Wettin came down from above, as if he’d kicked off empty air itself, his face suddenly upside down right in front of mine. My numbed arm barely managed to block.

Seeing Mecklenburg grinning like that while charging with a sword was absurd. He was the last person who would fight with such a reckless smile. And more than that, he was never the type to rely on nothing but his sword.

‘The staff…’

Steel clashed nonstop, the ringing filling my ears until my head spun. I needed an opening to switch to my staff. Except that wasn’t even my biggest problem.

Suppressing the heartbeat that came with the smell of blood was taking more strength than I could spare. I couldn’t let him notice. Copying Mecklenburg. Suppressing my own instincts. Defending against his attacks. My focus was split three ways.

“You know…”

Wettin’s arm came down again. His relentless attempt to wear me down was almost admirable. However—

“…!”

This time, there was no sword. I hadn’t lost my balance, but the tenth of a second it took to react was enough. Mana wrapped around my calf.

Boom!

My head slammed into the ground. The pressure around my throat tightened.

“You don’t look like you’re giving it your all. Do you look down on me?”

[10.]

“Or are you giving it your all, and you’re just going about it the wrong way? You’re not some rookie anymore, are you, Junior?”

“Ghk—!”

Wettin tightened his grip around my throat while driving his knee into my thigh. Between the mana flooding into my neck and the crushing force of his grip, I couldn’t even react to the pain tearing through my leg. It felt like the muscle was about to rip apart.

If there was one fortunate point, it was that his body’s center of gravity was leaning forward because he was choking my neck. If I wanted to counter, regardless of the pain, his legs were practically an opening.

[9.]

“Haha—seriously, why are you giving him ten whole seconds? His face is literally planted on the ground.”

It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn your decrees. He was right. I couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity. Drawing in what little breath I had left, I forced out the verse while studying Wettin.

Wearing Mecklenburg’s face, he wasn’t fighting like Mecklenburg at all. Instead of keeping his eyes wide and focused, he wore that irritating half-lidded grin even in the middle of combat. Every time things stopped going his way, he’d rake a hand through the neatly combed hair until loose strands fell across his forehead, amber eyes glinting beneath them. He was doing everything every instructor would tell you not to do. So what did that tell me?

[8.]

The answer was obvious. Unfortunately, Nepomucena Wettin had just proven he could fight perfectly well no matter what covered his eyes. You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you. At this point, he might as well be the supreme authority on shutting down magic. Every spell I tried was snuffed out before it could take shape.

“Cough…”

The pressure brought tears to my eyes, blurring my vision. Even so, I lowered my gaze. The high-collared undershirt still fit snugly against his body. No tie, of course. The belt that used to secure his double-breasted jacket across his waist and shoulders, along with the holster on his right thigh, had long since been removed for mobility. Wettin followed my gaze and smirked.

“What’re you staring at?”

“Ghk…”

[4.]

His thumb dug into the pulse beneath my jaw, mana pouring into me. It crawled down my neck, forcing its way through my own mana. Then the hordes of all the nations that fight against Ariel, that attack her and her fortress and besiege her—. The veins in Wettin’s eyes turned red. Blood dripped steadily from his nose, splattering across my face. —will be as it is with a dream, with a vision in the night. Now then… what could I use here? From that appearance of his—the kind that would’ve made Leo declare he needed to fix my mentality from scratch if I had sparred with him looking like this.

How thoughtful. Thanks to the fact that he hadn’t bothered managing his condition at all…

[2.]

Crack—

— Be strong and courageous.

…I’d found something I could exploit besides magic.

Boom— KRAAAM!

I grabbed the loose front of Wettin’s training jacket and clenched it tight. Then I drove every bit of strength through my waist and into the legs braced against the ground. The instant mana erupted, the weight pinning my legs vanished. Someone went flying.

Beep— Slash!

The friendly chime announcing the countdown had been canceled rang out. The moment both feet touched the ground, I looked up. Far in the distance, Nepomucena Wettin had landed in a crouch. One corner of his mouth twisted upward as he sucked in a sharp breath. A laugh escaped him—part surprise, part insanity. Or maybe he was genuinely enjoying himself.

“…Ah… haha. Well now…”

Blood spilled from his curled lips, splashing onto the ground. The wand in his hand shifted back into a gleaming sword. But I had no intention of playing along anymore.

Boom!

He kicked off the ground. As the rushing wind closed in, I smiled, spun my wand between my fingers into a staff, and slammed it into the floor.

— There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear.