Published at 6th of December 2025 6:40 am

Chapter 256

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Its tidier than I thought.

I said, looking at the well-managed library.

There was no reply. I had felt it from the start, but the attendant seemed unsociable.

I see why it gave me the suggestion to talk.

Of course, the main reason for the suggestion was likely because there was information to be gained from this person, but the fact that conversations didn't flow naturally must have also played a part.

I shook off the attendant's gaze on my back and walked straight down the aisle.

It was a spacious library, as if an entire floor of a library had been brought here.

If the owner was someone who didn't read at all, he would either have no library or a small one, but this Archbishop fellow didn't seem to be that type. Well, he was a man who had to lead people from the highest position, so it wasn't particularly strange.

Strategy books. Books on the art of war.

I stood before a bookshelf filled with such titles. Books on the art of war filled two entire shelves. As if they had been read recently, three or four of them were lying flipped over near a sofa with a small chair and table.

I was in a bad mood because our tastes were similar.

There were almost no novels on the shelves. This too was similar to me. Excluding the last moments I spent in my own body, I hadn't read novels often throughout my entire life.

There were certainly works that had left a deep enough impression on me that I wanted to recommend them to others, but not many. If I were to count only the works I was truly engrossed in, the novel that served as the background for this world was the only one in my life that had captivated me. In fact, that's why I was all the more flabbergasted when I came here.

Still, I'd never once thought I shouldn't have read that novel.

I slowly walked past the aisles, checking the books on the shelves and those that were worn from being read many times.

Overall, there was more non-fiction than literature. The ratio was about 2:8. And that 20 percent went back to ancient Greece or the Middle Ages rather than recent works.

As if that 20 percent were his truly favorite works, all the books were worn. I ran my hand over the spines and read the titles.

The Iliad, The Odyssey, Oedipus Rex Theogony.

They were things that were widely read in our time as well. The worn state of Aeschylus' tragedies also caught my eye.

His interest in medicine, magic, and political science seemed exceptional. In the political science section, there were countless academic journals about Machiavelli and Machiavellianism.

I stopped in front of them.

There were two bookshelves where I stood. The one on the left was entirely filled with books about Niccolo Machiavelli, and the one on the right held books similar to his work, *The Prince*.

I had checked every bookshelf on my way here, but this was the first time such a space had been dedicated to a single thinker and a single idea.

Hmm, Machiavelli

Everything seemed unexpected since I had entered this place. I had never seen him lead the diocese, so in my mind, his image was nothing more or less than a stalker.

Come to think of it, on the surface, his disposition seemed to fit quite well.

I already knew about The Prince itself, so that was fine. To know how the Archbishop interpreted the text of The Prince, I would need to look at something slightly different.

I moved my hand to the left bookshelf, to the place with books about the author Machiavelli.

I took out a few books that were covered in index tabs and opened to a random page in each one.

[Through The Prince, Niccolo Machiavelli fiercely criticized the despotism of the Medici family. He was, in fact, a republican, but the oppression of the era forced him to express his opinions secretly.]

[The author does not fully agree with the opinion that Niccolo Machiavelli was a [benevolent citizen republican], but argues thus: The Prince is, without a doubt, a book for the people. To help the readers understanding of this paper, the author would like to borrow the words of two thinkers. Spinoza said this: The Prince shows how dangerous it is for a free multitude to absolutely entrust their well-being to one person. And Socrates said this: The only good is knowledge and the only evil is ignorance. The shocking expose of that work promoted the return of subjects to the people and became the cornerstone of the Enlightenment. This is the only key point.]

[Why do the Enlightenment thinkers try to embellish Niccolo Machiavelli? It is because his opportunistic tendencies are the basis of The Prince. His despotism is not actual despotism but only a reflection of Machiavellis own egoism and opportunism. We, the subjects, must remember that Machiavelli was a petty opportunist who changed political factions multiple times for his own survival.]

Hmm

Every one I opened said something different.

He had read a wide variety without being biased, and I thought I knew why.

The two were similar. To be precise, the public perception of Machiavelli corresponded with the Archbishop's principles of thought. The Archbishop had plenty of reason to identify himself with Machiavelli. Considering the philosophy of *The Prince*that any means could be justified for the sake of a goal, which was so summarized that it invited countless misunderstandings to the point of flattening the workI could see that the Archbishop's disposition and ideology aligned. Though if one delved deeper, they were likely polar opposites.

For now, it was clear that he had a special attachment to Niccolo Machiavelli, almost as if he were using him as his own mirror.

I put the books back in order and started walking again. The attendant followed me, holding a magic lamp.

For now, just looking at the book collection its at a level where I want to copy and paste it into my home.

It was annoying that our tastes overlapped.

That wasn't to say I agreed with every book he owned. It was just that there were many books that looked interesting.

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

Seeing this made me feel something.

If we had met under normal circumstances in the same space, we could have become pretty decent friends.

But now, that would never happen.

I looked around to the end of the library and found a small room with an open door.

As I entered, I saw something he had been writing. I closed the open ink lid and read the words written on the yellow paper.

[In the last issue, I dealt with the *spolia opima*. Therefore, the reader will be well acquainted with Marcus Claudius Marcellus, the general who obtained the *spolia opima* at 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 did nothing but follow me around all day, but he had a more diverse range of activities than I expected.

I wasn't disappointed, just amazed. I didn't know which magazine he sent his articles to, but he truly lived as if a day were 48 hours long. I wondered if one had to be like this to become an Archbishop.

[In 208 BC, Marcellus was discovered by Hannibal's men duing a reconnaissance and was killed in action. Hannibal gave him a dignified funeral, but there was an undignified act involved. Hannibal took the signet ring of the deceased Marcellus and sent false information to Salapia, a town loyal to Rome. The order was that Marcellus was marching to Salapia, so they should open the city gates. If Salapia accepted this letter as truth, the one to enter the gates of Salapia would not be Rome's Marcellus, Salapia's ally, but Carthage's Hannibal.]

It was a part of the Punic War.

It was an interesting piece. Of course, it was interesting because the Archbishop himself had written it. It was something worth remembering.

[However, Rome's second consul, Titus Quinctius Crispinus, shrewdly saw through Hannibal's ploy and informed Salapia and the 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 towards the gates of Salapia. Salapia pretended to be deceived by Hannibal's letter and welcomed the Roman Marcellus entering their gates. After lowering Carthage's guard, Salapia attacked them, and in the end, Hannibal had to leave the place, having been harmed by his own scheme. No matter how great a general Hannibal was and what his achievements were until then.]

How long are you going to keep looking?

The attendant's words broke my concentration.

I answered without looking at him.

You said I was to be his husband.

As if having no intention to rebut, the attendant left me alone without a word.

[This time, it was Hannibal's defeat. What can we discover here.]

[Hannibal's strategy was brilliant. However, the result that the strategy failed is a painful fact, regardless of the strategy's brilliance. Should we see this as the result of the god of fate not being on his side? Or should we see it as Hannibal's mistake in underestimating Crispinus? The judgment is left to the reader.]

If you plan to stay longer, I will bring some tea.

So that's what you meant. It's alright. More importantly, this column is very interesting. Which magazine is it for? Or which newspaper?

It is difficult for me to say.

Well, alright. Have you read this?

He nodded.

As a side benefit of acting as the future husbandI'd just given up at this pointI clicked my tongue and said.

It seems it hasn't even been sent yet, but it feels strange that he showed it to you as well.

I apologize.

There's no need to apologize. Rather, what do you think about the author's question?

The conversation with Lu Barre would start with this.

The suggestion to have a conversation wouldn't have been given for no reason. This was a man with whom it was impossible to break the ice with small talk like The weather is nice today.

To move on to the topic of the Archbishop, I had to ask a question related to the Archbishop. The article he wrote would serve as a good tool.

I believe it was bad luck.

At the same time, I believe Hannibal was also lacking. If he wasn't confident in controlling the fact that he had seized the signet ring from reaching the Roman army, he should not have used such a strategy. Though he might have sent the letter to Salapia with the thought that he had nothing to lose.

What do you think your master would think?

I do not know my master's will.

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

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

This time, I asked a question directly related to the Archbishop.

I saw earlier that there were a great many books about Machiavelli. Have you ever thought that Niccolo Machiavelli resembles your master?

He looked down at me with a face that seemed to ask what I was talking about, then answered softly.

I cannot say he doesn't.

I gestured to the sofa opposite me and said.

You're honest. Here, let's sit. In what sense do you think he is similar to Machiavelli?

He stared at me, then sat down and said with a dry expression.

Do you intend to marry my master?

A chuckle escaped me.

Didn't he say I was the one who would be his husband?

Could it be that he meant he couldn't hand over his master to someone who would compare his lover to Machiavelli? He did seem like a madman.

That's what I thought, but it was my misjudgment. The words that came out of Lu Barre's mouth were unexpected.

To put it briefly before it becomes a long speech, as Your Excellency knows, my master is someone who can willingly endure painful means for the sake of his goal.

To be precise, he's a guy who can unhesitatingly use means that are painful to others for his own benefit. His stalking history proved that. It was amazing how he lived only according to his own tastes despite having accumulated so many scholarly papers on Machiavelli.

By the way, he was habitually spitting out Low Germanthe German of the northand then correcting himself to High German.

Are you from the north? I can hear a hint of Low German.

Yes.

Where? If it's the north Hamburg? Osnabruck? Munster?

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

Your Excellency is not a Pleroma. And my master is a Pleroma. For the sake of love, he would most certainly be willing to turn Your Excellency into a Pleroma.

Hmm?

Of course, he would. But for this topic to come from his attendant?

I smiled and shook my head.

That is not something for you to worry about.

He stared at me for a moment and asked.

Are you saying you are fine with becoming a Pleroma?

To be honest, I am not.

He might demand your blood.

I know.

Are you willing to give him your blood?

No. Not for now.

Are you saying you will later?

It depends on the situation.

Not later, either.

In the first place, there would be no later.

But there was no need to be honest in the enemy's camp.

I don't know why you're asking these questions. Do you wish for me not to be with him?

I am only saying this because it seems Your Excellency is misunderstanding something. Then what do you trust to be here? My master can act against Your Excellency's expectations at any time.

Lu Barre was telling me something absurd right now.

To hear this kind of story in this place.

I clasped my hands together and asked.

Can you get me out of here?

It would require a little lie, but yes. If you wish, I can help you escape.

This is baffling. At this point, his true intentions were suspect.

I hid any sign of it and said calmly.

You asked what I trust to be here. I trust the promise he made to me.

Trust? My master can endure lies for the sake of his goal.

I know. Still, I trust him.

Why?

<>

I don't know either. Isn't it because I love him?

It was extremely difficult to say such words out loud. Still, thankfully, the awkwardness quickly disappeared when I thought of it as me doing my job right now.

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

I have something to do, so I must go. If you need a guide, call another servant.

Wait.

He stopped, looking down at me.

Why can't you trust your master?

I do trust him. Separately, this was just a show of human compassion from me to Your Excellency.

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

Fine. What is your name?

Lu Scheller.

I see. So that's it.

I brought up his status window.

Lu Barre

Favorability +10 [Can be pursued]

Title: Wanted Man

Health: +6

Mental Strength: +4 [+9]

Magic Power: +6

Skills: +8

Impression: -3

Trait:

First of all, setting aside that crazy favorability and title, he was indeed Lu Barre.

And as far as I knew, Barre was a noble family from Osnabruck. He had just tried to hide his family name from me.

By the way, his real name is 'Lu'.

It was unlikely for someone to be given such a name as their real name in this era.

It was usually a nickname for Luise, Louis, and so on. Had he named himself?

He handed me a key and then left the library.

No, he tried to. He stood in the dark corridor far away and slowly turned around.

Your Excellency.

When I looked at him, he continued.

The master intends to hold an engagement ceremony soon.

***

With whom?

With me?

Of course it's me, who else would it be

I was hoping it would be with someone else, but unfortunately, that was unlikely. No, at this point, it would be a bit troublesome if it were with someone else.

In any case, the suggestion.

Tiring!

Congratulations!

Suggestion 1: Talk to Lu Barre success!

Route 1 &lt; Suggestion 2 &gt; is confirmed.

It was a smooth success.

The conversation with him and his status window, both full of mysteries, were not smooth at all, but they provided me with good information. Now, all I had to do was interpret it.

And, the Archbishop appeared much later.

The next morning.

I was sleeping when I suddenly felt a chill and my eyes flew open.

!

The Archbishop was right in front of my nose. I reflexively sat up and threw a punch, but he swiftly dodged it by imbuing his body with magic power. He grinned and said.

I'm here. Let's plan our strategy!

I looked at the clock; it was 6 in the morning.

It was dawn when I first arrived, so about 24 hours had passed since I'd been here. Outside, about 2 hours would have passed.

I nodded and flicked my hand, signaling for him to get out quickly.

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

Who are you?

We are here to assist you with washing up.

No, I'll do it myself.

We argued for 10 minutes, but surprisingly, it was to no avail. It was clear the Archbishop had given an order.

Even after I finished washing up, they didn't leave.

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

Isn't this almost like the Middle Ages?

No, it wasn't.

It was just me being uncomfortable, but it certainly wasn't a culture exclusive to the Middle Ages.

Even someone like Georg Askanian would have had servants help him dress. Adrian, on the other hand, pretended not to be classist even at home, and due to his perfectionist nature that bordered on mysophobia, he would never entrust anything concerning himself to others.

Anyway, it wasn't a very unfamiliar sight for nobles, though I had no choice but to do everything myself because I was treated like air at home.

Of course, from the perspective of a modern person who values personal space, it just made me laugh hollowly.

Is there anything uncomfortable?

No.

The clothes the Archbishop had brought fit my body, clearly because he had found out my size from the clothes he had taken before. However, the design was not much to my taste. Since he bought them, he must have matched them to his own taste.

The servants sat me down and began to apply oil to my hair and slick it back. This one thing was convenient since someone else was doing it. After joining Eszett, I had to pay attention to my hairstyle every time, which was quite a hassle.

Of course, the problem was who on earth asked for a hair styling session. I had no intention of having my hair slicked back as if I were at work while I was resting. It was obvious where the nerve to do as they pleased without even asking for my opinion came from. I stood up before they could touch the other side of my head and kicked them out.

Thank you for your hard work. I'll take care of the rest myself, so you may leave now.

I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my hair to return it to its original state. I roughly dried my hair with a towel, just like I did in the dorms, and went down to another room. The Archbishop, who was already sitting down with materials spread out, was waiting for me. He widened his eyes and said.

Your hair is down.

Yes. So, what are these materials?

It looks so unfamiliar~ I've almost only seen you with your hair swept back like this!

The Archbishop smiled brightly and gestured at his own hair. I smiled back and retorted.

That's not true.

Why not? I've only met you since you joined Eszett.

I smiled and looked at him. He widened his eyes and tilted his head.

Well, alright. If you think so.

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

First, two hours have passed since the disappearance. I recommend not going down to the Empire. It's more on fire than at any other moment.

On fire, you say.

The subjects have learned that the Imperial government covered up the terror attack. And Askanian has released an official statement about your disappearance.

What did they say?

They criticized the Imperial government for resolving the terror attack by sacrificing a member of the Askanian clan. Oh, the Anhalt mage at your academy also participated in the protest statement.

Was he talking about Stefan Traut?

Once I messed with his head, he started moving in a good direction on his own.

The problem related to him was complicated, so I would think about it later.

The Archbishop continued speaking. The smile gradually faded from his face.

Now, let's get to the main point. Pleroma changed its strategy a little while ago, that is, an hour and a half after you came here.

I fell silent, looking down at the short letter fromPleroma that he had brought.

Because the content written was quite hopeless.

[To His Excellency, the Diocesan Bishop of Munster.]

[This is Therese Gebauer, Secretary-General of the Ecclesiastical Province Union. Finding the Diocesan Bishop of Osnabruck is realistically impossible. His Eminence, the Archbishop of Cologne, has ordered us to lure out the Diocesan Bishop of Osnabruck by finding Lukas Askanian.]

The Archbishop looked at me with serious eyes and said.

The leadership's target right now is not the Bishop of Osnabruck. It's you.

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