Chapter 564

“Your Excellency, Minister Gaston Lévy, is there something weighing on your mind?”

Mecklenburg spoke without taking his eyes off Gaston Lévy’s. It felt like having a ticking time bomb right beside me. In the ice-cold atmosphere, I kept the same expression as before, fully prepared to improvise before Mecklenburg committed a diplomatic blunder. The minister had understood every word despite Mecklenburg speaking in German. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth.

But he never got the chance to answer. Before Gaston Lévy could say anything, Mecklenburg lifted the corners of his mouth in a hearty smile and spoke, a faint glint of defiance in his eyes.

“Since you have come all the way to Germany, I hope you will have a pleasant stay.”

Good. I was grateful that Mecklenburg knew where to draw the line.

Even so, the whole situation was absurd. This French delegation hadn’t come to participate in the Pentathlon as they had before. They had forced their way here to steal German secrets and assess the state of the country. Their demand was that they be allowed to inspect a neighboring nation—one supposedly their equal—and then benevolently decide whether Germany was safe enough to spare the other countries from demanding reparations.

Their leader, the French Minister of Magic, was likely one of the very people responsible for promoting the idea that Germany should pay reparations. And yet Mecklenburg was speaking to him as though he were a guest who had come to Germany for a pleasant visit.

Of course, that was only the surface meaning. What he was really saying was: Your behavior is so discourteous that you look as though something is troubling you. Naturally, you came here because Germany itself is one big cause for concern, but at least have the decency not to show it.

It was remarkably close to what I’d been about to say myself.

If the other person gave the wrong answer now…

“Of course.”

Fortunately, Minister Lévy gave a perfectly ordinary reply.

Had things gone slightly differently, he might have said something like, “I hope so as well.” That could easily have been taken to mean, As if we could ever feel comfortable in your terrorist country. Whether they could actually relax here was another question entirely. Such a response would only have further provoked Mecklenburg, who was already on edge.

I was grateful that he’d stepped in—even if he’d done it for Germany rather than for my sake—but I couldn’t leave things there. There were times when the person who’d been wronged could afford to stay out of the way, and times when they couldn’t. Before the others could move on to the next step, I turned my head slightly inward, raised an eyebrow, and spoke.

“I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet France’s Minister of Magic. I hope your stay in Germany will be safe and pleasant.”

“I am deeply touched by Germany’s hospitality.”

Before he could finish speaking, I held out my right hand once more. Then I gestured with my head toward the press gathered beside us and said, “I am also delighted by Your Excellency’s kindness. It seems our introductions were insufficient for what should have been a good beginning, so let us try again.”

Surely, we could at least give them time to take a few photographs. I conveyed as much with a nod, and Gaston Lévy stared at me in silence for a second before clasping my hand firmly, all the way to the webbing between our fingers. Without letting his displeasure show, he smiled faintly and said, “You do enjoy shaking hands.”

“Not particularly.”

I’m only doing it again because you didn’t. He had surely understood what I meant. If he hadn’t, then all he would feel was an awkwardness he couldn’t quite explain.

Gaston Lévy replied smoothly.

“As Minister of Magic, I had hoped to meet His Excellency Adrian Askanien in person, but I have had the pleasure of meeting Lord Lukas Askanien first. I have heard plenty in France about your exceptional judgment and resolve. Thanks to that, I have no concerns about today’s assessment.”

I responded by looking at the minister with an expression of trust.

The minister’s mana felt unsettlingly unstable against my hand. He hadn’t shaken my hand so casually just to snub me for show; he genuinely disliked me. Even so, he was in no position to let that show so carelessly. Knowing he would pull away quickly, I tightened my grip just enough to hold him in place, then shook his hand twice.

Mecklenburg gave me a courteous nod. We stepped back to make room for the Minister of Foreign Affairs to come forward.

With his chin slightly raised, Minister Gaston Lévy had continued watching us to the very end. Then, as though nothing had happened, he turned to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and spoke in polished French, mindful of the language’s role as the lingua franca.

“Although the requests made by France and the other nations may have seemed rather sudden, we are deeply grateful for your cooperation in the interest of peace on the continent.”

“As you say, it was certainly a difficult situation. It is not a virtue of the state to answer the wicked deeds of wicked men in kind. And yet, pursuing the righteous path of justice inevitably brings considerable hardship. It is regrettable that such unrest should arise today, when we are making every effort to ease those difficulties.”

“Hmm.”

“Nevertheless, we understand the concerns of the continent, and so we are simply glad to have this opportunity to demonstrate the efforts Germany, in choosing justice, is making today to safeguard the continent’s security.”

Minister Gaston Lévy raised his eyebrows, pulled up the muscles in his cheeks, and nodded. He looked as though he were sneering, yet at the same time, his expression seemed to convey sympathy for Germany’s predicament. If asked, he would of course claim it was the latter, but in truth, it was the former. Since he couldn’t openly insult us, the ability to flip someone off in an ambiguous way was still considered a virtue in this day and age. Watching them communicate while each spoke in his own country’s language was laughable, too.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs had already considered this, and I had also passed along a request of my own. France was an exception, but when putting together delegations from other European countries, we wanted Germany to have a say in their selection. The delegations would consist of foreigners chosen by Germany and would tour the facilities before leaving. France had initially left our request unanswered, but after keeping us waiting for a while, they finally agreed.

“Then, as we informed you in advance, we have already divided everyone into groups. We would be very grateful if you could show them around right away.”

Minister Gaston Lévy gestured behind him. Mages in Académie Puissance uniforms and the uniforms of various countries stood in a line.

“Certainly.”

The Minister of Foreign Affairs readily agreed, then introduced several key government officials to Minister Gaston Lévy. Afterward, he gestured briefly toward the building.

“Let us head inside.”

We weren’t going to meet the Emperor. There was no reason to welcome them by letting them see him, too. The French Minister of Magic would enter the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building, where a brief welcoming ceremony would be held. Meanwhile, the people he had brought with him would split into teams and head to various parts of Prussia. As the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and I had already discussed, our own people would accompany them personally to make sure they didn’t cross the line.

I glanced at Mecklenburg, who wore a mechanical smile, and let out a sigh of relief.

“You certainly have a lot of free time.”

It wasn’t exactly the time to feel relieved. We had arrived at a magical chemical factory in Berlin that produced industrial potions used in rampage drug detectors. More precisely, I was the only one who should have been here—me and only part of the delegation. Mecklenburg was definitely supposed to be in charge of another team.

Standing half a step behind me, Mecklenburg had been glaring at me with narrowed eyes and nothing but the corners of his mouth turned up. At my mutter, he shot me a glare, held up his fingers, and corrected me.

“Excuse me? I’m not free. I’m following you around, aren’t I?”

“That’s exactly what having free time looks like. They already have me here. Do you really think they need another person?”

“You’re the one who’s a potential threat. You. Those amphibian gourmets are just waiting for a chance to use you as a prism to insult Germany, aren’t they?”

“Oh, is that so? My apologies.”

Mecklenburg caught the sarcasm in my tone perfectly. His face reddened as he scowled.

“You can’t be serious! I’m not saying this because it concerns you personally, but unlike us Germans and people from other countries, those French have absolutely no intention of accepting you as someone who isn’t part of Pleroma. Someone needs to step in at the right moment and knock them down a peg!”

He was about to start spitting. I quietly eased Mecklenburg away from me as he continued shouting practically into my ear, pouring far too much passion into his words, and muttered, “I understand. I get it. Before those French even get the chance to insult me, you’re going to make me deaf, Senior. Please spare my eardrums.”

“Good grief… Ahem.”

He snorted and looked ready to purse his lips, but thought better of it and swallowed his irritation for the sake of decorum.

Behind me stood three scholars from Académie Puissance, all of whom looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties. There were also two British, two Dutch, and two Italians.

The French mage craned his neck as he surveyed the enormous factory. His eyes lit up, and he turned to the British beside him.

“Wow, so this is where the chemical bases used in manufacturing are kept. I am not very good at German, so would you happen to know exactly which chemicals they use?”

Hmm… He deliberately asked the British instead of me? I glanced at the French and said, “If you have any questions, ask me.”

“Ah…”

The French jumped in surprise and exchanged glances with another French nearby. Then, making an effort to sound polite, he asked, “I suppose that would be the right thing to do. Would you mind translating the names of the chemicals written beneath this cloth? This is a fascinating place.”

I had no intention of translating them, and even if I did, the names written there weren’t those of actual chemicals. That was what I thought as I smiled and opened my mouth. Just then, I saw Mecklenburg’s eyes widen, so I bit my lip and grabbed his forearm.

It was no use. Even with me holding on to him, Mecklenburg merely stretched the muscles around his mouth sideways and bared his teeth in a threatening grin, like some murderous puppet.

“If you want to know that, you can get a job at this factory.”

“Ah, yes… Th-that is true. I suppose I asked something I shouldn’t have. Apologies.”

The French, who hadn’t meant any harm, looked flustered. His voice grew quieter and quieter as he retreated to the side of another French and whispered to him. Mecklenburg smiled, looking thoroughly satisfied. I leaned around his shoulder and scowled at him.

“Senior, are you messing with him? Don’t be so hostile.”

“I haven’t been hostile. I’m simply doing what needs to be done. Technology is national strength. Do you think we should just hand over the answers without a second thought?”

“Haa…”

I stepped out from behind the soundproofing spell and stood before the table the factory staff had prepared in advance. Then I addressed the delegation, who were waiting for an explanation.

“As you can see, this facility manufactures the bases used to detect Pleroma’s rampage drug. Artifacts containing the liquid produced here are installed in rivers and in the ground.”

I poured a diluted solution of the rampage drug into a small experimental model, then pointed to the meter on the opposite side, connected to the water by electrodes. A British who had been listening intently asked in German, his pronunciation unclear.

“Why, then, has the number of Rampagers not decreased, despite the existence of this drug?”

“First, when the drug is detected, we use newspapers and broadcasts to warn people away from the affected area. Unfortunately, there are practical limits to how completely we can control everyone’s movements. Even if we manage to keep ten thousand people out of an area, if we fail to stop just one person from entering—and that person becomes a Rampager—the damage can spread in an instant. This drug is highly sensitive to emotions, so even slight exposure, such as through breathing, can trigger a rampage if the person’s emotions fluctuate enough. To sum up, the reason is that we lack sufficient divine power to purify those affected.”

“Are you unable to develop an antidote that can replace divine power?”

“Of course we have. However, just as we cannot distribute treatments for serious illnesses to all 247 cities when each vial costs tens of thousands of Pels, the same cost problem applies to the antidote. For that reason, we use it only on patients. Naturally, when we judge a situation to be serious enough, we also use it on the ground and on people passing through checkpoints.”

“Cost is certainly an important issue.”

An Italian chimed in, the corners of his mouth drawn down. No one seemed to disagree, and no further questions followed. I spread my hands, inviting them to ask more. A French spoke up.

“How long has this drug been in use?”

“It has been installed throughout Berlin for two months.”

“Hmm. So it hasn’t been that long. If Pleroma’s rampage drug spreads to other countries, would we be able to obtain this as well?”

“We should be able to export it in its finished form.”

At that, a French with a grave expression spoke so quickly that it was difficult for foreigners to follow.

“But Germany was the one that caused this problem, yet you are saying you have no intention of providing us with the manufacturing process and raw materials?”

I was greatly taken aback by how bluntly he put it. Then another thought occurred to me: what country would ever agree to such a bad bargain? Before long, I reached my conclusion. They were trying to do to Germany exactly what they had done when stripping their colonies of resources. A leopard never changes its spots. They were practically bursting with the desire to break Germany up into small pieces and swallow it whole, just as they had before unification.

Once again, I reflexively glanced at Mecklenburg. Like most people whose names were well known, I’d made a lifelong habit of not wasting time checking other people’s reactions unless it was necessary. Unfortunately, this guy was helping me break that habit.

I turned my gaze back to the French as though nothing had happened, swallowed, and calmly began to speak.

“I apologize. However, that is a matter to be discussed between nations. As I belong to neither the Ministry of Finance nor the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, I am afraid I will not be able to give you a satisfactory answer.”

The French nodded, looking somewhat displeased but understanding enough.

I could see Mecklenburg’s throat moving. His jaw muscles twitched as he clenched his teeth. I gestured for the delegation to move on to another location, then turned back and firmly pushed up the corners of Mecklenburg’s mouth with my thumb. Even as I treated him rather rudely, his burning gaze remained fixed on the French’s retreating backs.

From Mecklenburg’s perspective, this must have been infuriating. And rightfully so. The fact that France’s machinations had sent European nations swarming to Germany in hopes of squeezing some contribution money out of it, the greed and strategy behind France’s deliberate creation of the situation, and the way the French had finally wormed their way into Germany and were poking their noses into everything—all of it must have been infuriating.

We had agreed to the visit, albeit with all sorts of conditions attached, because if we refused France’s request for permission to inspect our facilities, the French would undoubtedly crow, “See? They have nothing to show us!” But even so, France was undeniably being diplomatically rude.

By the time the talks were drawing to a close, we had led the delegation to the dining hall. I’d come to the banquet hall ahead of the meal. I also ran into my friends from the 101st Unit, Narke and Ulrike, who had been assigned to other teams. I couldn’t greet them for long, though, with Mecklenburg glued to my side. I’d only managed to get away because someone else had intercepted him.

The Minister of Magic I’d met at the very beginning and the three French I’d been accompanying ever since hadn’t exactly been pleasant. Why was that?

The answer was easy enough to deduce. The French refused to accept the change in my image brought about by my speech in Germany and other countries. They wanted to keep seeing me as Pleroma, the organization that sucked up mana. Otherwise, France would lose one of its most powerful means of attacking Germany. That desire had led them to genuinely believe their own assumptions.

But once I arrived in the banquet hall, the French who seemed to have far less of an issue with me than they did began approaching me one by one. There were all kinds of people everywhere you went.

One particularly sociable French mage was chatting with me even now, smiling as he tilted his wineglass.

“Articles about how popular you are with students and people from all walks of life have been translated into French. You certainly seem to live up to them.”

“Is that so?”

Abraham, you bastard… Of course, just as our media translated French articles, the French media had probably been translating German articles all along. I smiled to express my gratitude. The French snapped his fingers and asked me a serious question.

“Germans smile quite often, too! My preconceptions are being shattered.”

“Perhaps I am the only one.”

“How unexpected.”

The French spread his hands to indicate that he would be taking a small liberty, then leaned closer to my eyes.

“So they really are only pink in color. That is a rather unusual charm.”

“Thank you. But what else did you think they might be, if not just pink in color?”

“Ah, well…”

The French grinned as he began to answer. Just then, a voice with an elegant manner of speaking and a northern accent came from behind me.

“Your eyes are the same.”

A chill ran down my spine at Mecklenburg’s uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere, and I had the sudden urge to empty the glass in my hand straight into his mouth. Mecklenburg kept the corners of his lips perfectly still, like the smile carved into a porcelain mask.

Whatever Mecklenburg had been expecting, the French only blushed and laughed shyly at his remark.

“Really? Thank you. I inherited them from my mother. But may I ask your name…?”

“Haha. Both you and your mother have truly striking eyes. Well, if you will excuse us for a moment.”

I took a step back and poked Mecklenburg in the small of his back. He scowled at me. I dragged him over to the end of the canapé table and whispered, “He’s not trying to pick a fight. You can tell from the way he speaks.”

“He brought up your eyes.”

“Well, that…”

Wouldn’t you have done the same? Just because someone mentioned my eyes didn’t mean it was always meant negatively. This idiot knew that, too, but he was blinded by his ‘patriotism.’ My head began to ache, and I pressed a hand to my forehead before turning away. Even as I struggled to figure out how to explain something so obvious to him, Mecklenburg continued without pause.

“Listen to me.”

“Go ahead.”

Now that I looked at him, Mecklenburg’s face was flushed. Either he’d gotten into an argument with another French downstairs or he’d been stewing in his own anger. I stared at him in disbelief, then ate a canapé from the long table while he gathered his thoughts.

“‘Germany was the one that caused it.’”

“Yes.”

“Does that even make sense? It was Pleroma that caused it, not Germany! Honestly, this is driving me insane.”

What? You? I was impressed despite myself, but at the same time, I felt a sense of impending danger.

“Indeed. The French delegation’s attitude has been rather poor overall.”

After giving him a measured response, I speared a canapé with a cocktail fork and held it up to Mecklenburg’s mouth.

“Do you like canapés? Have one and take your mind off things.”

Mecklenburg picked up the canapé stick and ate it himself. Feed him, and he quiets down. I picked up a glass from a waiter’s tray and took a sip of German sparkling wine before asking, “Senior, do you like Riesling Sekt¹?”

“Not particularly… I’m not in the mood to drink.”

Good. I shouldn’t have given him alcohol, only for him to lose control of his temper later. We still had more of the schedule to get through.

With Mecklenburg’s mouth finally taking a break, I pointed to the canapés. He ate a couple without complaint, then gave me a crooked smile.

“People who eat amphibian meat probably can’t lift their spirits with food like this.”

“…….”

Should I remind him that France was famous for its cuisine? If the French heard him, they’d surely tell Germans who ate brick-like bread with sauerkraut to shut their mouths. Perhaps because the French delegation’s tastes had been taken into consideration, the food served here was delicious, as though it had come straight from the Imperial Palace.

While I had my head turned, I took the opportunity to slowly survey the banquet hall. Mecklenburg continued his deadpan needling.

“What are you looking around for? You want to get rid of those people as soon as possible, too, don’t you?”

“No…”

There were a few things I needed to check. I let my voice trail off as I scanned the banquet hall. When he opened his mouth again, I had no desire to listen to another long-winded tirade, so I silently excused myself and left.

I hurried down to the first floor, but he didn’t follow right after me. I might as well look for Narke and Ulrike while I was at it.

Just then, a noticeably tall person spotted me and approached. He greeted me warmly in French.

“It has been a while, Lord Askanien. Do you remember me?”

Esperanza Lafayette², from the high school division of Académie Puissance. His name came back to me without much difficulty. He glanced around before asking, “Where is the person who showed us around the city last time?”

Translator Note

1. Riesling Sekt is a German (or Austrian) sparkling wine made 100% from the aromatic Riesling grape. ↩︎
2. Not sure why the name changed here, since Maëlys Lafayette is the only Lafayette I remember appearing in the Pentathlon arc (appeared in Chapter 233). The raw says Esperanza Lafayette here. I could be wrong, though, since I don’t remember every detail of the novel. ↩︎