novelraw Chapter 172 : Chapter 172
Chapter 172 : Chapter 172
Chapter 172: Succession (4)
A dream.
Is the dream collapsing?
Abel thought as he looked up at the void. The sky that had seemed expansive was riddled with cracks. Some parts were breaking off and falling, while grand buildings scattered like sand castles and the crowds moving about came to a stop one by one. Crackle. The scenery composing Abel's surroundings shook as noise welled up. It meant there was a problem with the consciousness of the dreamer.
"Professor Argento, this is……"
Demian stood beside Abel.
He looked back and forth between Abel, who stood with his arms crossed and lost in thought, and young Ernst, who had stopped unnaturally.
"Has something gone wrong with Grand Duke Sharma's invention?"
"No, it is different."
Abel stared straight ahead.
He looked at the back of Christophe, who had been taking steps forward.
Had he said he would prove it? That he was nothing more than a regretful old man.
"There will be nothing wrong with the invention. The part with the problem would be Grand Duke Sharma's head."
Only his head has gone strange.
That man……
Abel muttered in an indifferent tone.
"That would be the case."
Meanwhile, Christophe thought as he took steps forward.
Surely they would think it strange. He could see right through Abel's thoughts. If one had risen to the position of Sword Saint, it was only proper to suspect him. What was the shabby, senile Grand Duke Sharma scheming? Having stepped back from noble society, holed up in a shabby mansion.
It would be appropriate to question thus.
"Has his head not gone strange? Even if I myself am that questionable……"
Christophe stood straight.
The ground had long since been covered in hatching marks. The earth was split as if an earthquake had occurred. It could not be helped. Even if the Capital had been imitated, the materials were poor.
No matter how many Sensory Stone had been melted down, human senses alone could not solidify the ground and spread out the sky. A mere dream could not dominate time, and along with that, naturally……
"……I cannot stop it at all."
Just because nothing is achieved does not mean a dream stops.
Christophe thought as he hardened his smile. Inside the dream-like ambition of his boyhood days stood his friend. Brunhilde von Tresckow. Her appearance looked quite young.
"Brunhilde."
It has been a while.
Christophe muttered, but,
"Who are you?"
Brunhilde asked in a stiff tone.
Only her form was intact within the dream. Everything in the dream was collapsing in order to keep her intact. Furthermore, if he exerted a little effort……
"Who, who, who, who……"
He could manipulate her to any extent.
Not only Brunhilde's mouth,
[Who, who, who, who…….]
Brunhilde, who had been hesitating like a malfunctioning Golem,
[……Christophe.]
Could be made to recognize Christophe.
Though it would never be possible, it was ultimately only a dream.
"Yes, it is me. It has truly been a long time."
[We raised our cups just yesterday. You mourned my son and his wife.]
"That was not me."
Christophe chuckled.
He stroked his mustache and continued speaking.
"I cannot exist in your yesterday. I am nothing more than an old man who can only exist after decades have passed, after you have died. I am exerting quite some effort, but I cannot return to the past. Dreaming is all I can manage for now."
[Is that so.]
Brunhilde bobbed her head.
Not because she had accepted Christophe's words. Christophe was moving Brunhilde's head. Moving the mouth of his old friend crafted by scraping together dreams,
[Christophe.]
He was merely making her call his name.
[Why are you dreaming?]
Then was it meaningless?
It would never be meaningless. Christophe was certain of that. Brunhilde's question was, strictly speaking, a question residing in Christophe's inner thoughts. It was nothing more than self-questioning that would easily make him reproach and agonize over himself. In that he could be interrogated with his old friend's voice……
"Because I am filled with regret."
There was certainly meaning.
"Because I am filled with regret over my life thus far."
[What do you regret, my friend?]
"I counted the people who have died because of me. It would be about three thousand one hundred. Of course it would be more than that. Both you and I were once busy amidst the turmoil of war."
[Do you regret causing them to die?]
"I do. I wonder if there was not a better way. I am sick of it now. I do not want to see anyone die before my eyes. I am utterly tired of boasting as if death means nothing."
[That is arrogance. It is a desire fine for dreaming.]
"I want to think so as well. But among those three thousand one hundred lives was that of my eldest son as well. He was at least a life I created. To have created and then killed him. It is a bit hard to bear."
[That life tried to kill you.]
"Correct. He tried to harm me to inherit power."
[Then was it not appropriate to kill him?]
"I hoped there was a better way……"
[There is not. There is no such method.]
"……I hoped there was."
[There is not. There is no such thing as that kind of method.]
A kind of self-questioning and self-answering.
Abel thought with his mouth closed.
Both Brunhilde's words and Christophe's words were induced from one person's consciousness. Christophe was questioning through Brunhilde's mouth and answering through his own mouth. He was rationalizing through Brunhilde's mouth while simultaneously regretting through his own mouth. It was raw questioning and answering suited for being shaped into a dream.
"There was always a method."
There certainly was.
I want to think so.
Christophe whispered.
"If I can enforce my thoughts I can do anything. That is precisely why. If I can turn back the past and foresee the future I can prove my thoughts. I will be able to make known that there was a better method."
[My friend.]
Brunhilde's expression softened momentarily.
Christophe thought that an old friend would surely do so. Making a faint tearful face, with a voice tinged with sympathy,
[We must acknowledge it.]
She would certainly advise thus.
[The past cannot be changed. The future cannot be glimpsed.]
Crackle.
Noise welling up even more intensely.
It sounded almost like sobbing.
[We were wrong. Because we were wrong, we regret it.]
Christophe's life, his words, his expressions could be false.
Dreams were different. Dreams shaped from the subconscious could only be purely truthful.
[We must not run away. There is no better method. Even if there were, it cannot be ours. That is the punishment imposed upon us. The lightest possible treatment has been imposed. If you think that is insufficient……]
Yes. That would probably be the case.
Abel thought as he bobbed his head.
Through the collapsing dream Abel acknowledged it. Christophe Jean-Jacques Saint-Sharma. That the senile Grand Duke had no other ulterior motive.
[……I entrust my grandson to you.]
Brunhilde said, and,
"That cannot be. You never said such words to me."
Christophe said.
[I entrust my grandson to you.]
"You never said such words to me."
[I entrust my grandson to you.]
"You……"
[I never said such words to me.]
"I will take charge of your grandson."
[I never said such words to you.]
"Allow me to take charge of your grandson."
[I never said such words to you.]
"Why did you not say it?"
Truly a childlike dream.
Abel thought while wearing a faint sneer.
To try to dominate time because he regrets his life.
For a dream harbored by the head of a family that recites philosophy, it is absurd. Perhaps it suits him precisely because of that.
Christophe was desiring even while knowing.
The fact that he would never dominate time. The fact that even if he did not choose his means and methods, he was not a vessel large enough to obtain it.
"……Look, Abel. And Demian."
Christophe turned around.
He looked over Abel and Demian and wore a smile.
"Will you not stop suspecting me now?"
Above and below Christophe speaking in a brazen tone,
The sky completely crumbled and the ground became afterimages and scattered. Like a child finishing playing house and beginning to clean up the toys that had been miserably strewn about.
"I am merely……"
A powerless and weak,
Regretful old man.
Reality.
This was truly the very reality.
Christophe thought while propping up his chin. The sky was clear and the ground was solid. While employees wiped the window Christophe's gaze was directed toward, the stone floor of Tresckow Castle was old but barely solid.
"I will ask, Abel."
Preparations for the Succession Ceremony were in full swing.
Not only members of the Tresckow family, but nobles who had ties with Brunhilde began to visit one by one. While the banquet hall stained with crowds was bustling, Christophe stood beside the seat of honor where his old friend had sat. Leaning on his cane, while directing his gaze toward Abel.
"It is a question I dare to pose."
Abel stood in a crooked posture.
The air in the banquet hall was acrid. The urge to run out immediately welled up.
"It was a week ago. Although I shabbily claimed innocence, even so it would have been difficult to completely withdraw suspicion. In the first place, belief without suspicion can only be directed at the Main Gods. Thus I ask. Why are you leaving my desire alone?"
"Because it appears to have no possibility of realization."
Abel fiddled with his necktie.
An attendant moving about the banquet hall stood beside Abel. She resembled the Nanny he had seen in Christophe's dream. She held out a glass containing wine toward Abel.
"Are you saying I am foolish?"
Christophe asked Abel as he gripped the glass.
"I never answered that way."
Abel stood side by side with Christophe.
The wine filling the glass sloshed.
"I merely thought there was no need to worry about it for now."
Your Grace's modest dream……
Appears unrelated to the group I am pursuing.
Abel muttered thus.
"I know what you are pursuing."
The religion of the Apostate.
Rumors about them abound.
Christophe whispered while reaching his hand toward Abel.
"Did you know everything all along?"
"Of course."
Swish.
Christophe's sleeve grazed Abel's hand.
"Though I have grown old and my eyes have weakened, it is not to the point where I see the situation hazily."
Christophe snatched Abel's glass.
After swallowing a sip of the wine rippling inside the glass,
"I will assist you somewhat."
Christophe muttered while wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
"The Duke of Orléans you are in contact with is already moving, but she alone will not be enough. In order to exterminate the Apostate without war, will my assistance not also be necessary?"
"What pleasing words to hear."
"Do not feel too relieved."
Christophe held out the empty glass.
"Everything I promised you……"
Abel received the empty glass.
Inside the meticulously crafted glass, afterimages of numerous crowds rippled.
"……It will not be too late to discuss after safely completing the Succession Ceremony."
Thus, Abel continued.
It was because he had perceived Christophe's intention.
To prioritize the Succession Ceremony for now. If it were Christophe, he would surely be thinking that way. There was no other intent in supporting Ernst.
"Brunhilde entrusted Ernst to me."
"That person never said such words."
"No, she certainly said so."
"If you insist on that……"
Abel shrugged his shoulders.
"Let us say Your Grace's words are correct."