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Chapter 52 — Engaged? (Public)
🕑 Added 2024-08-14 17:30:44 +0000 UTC“So, I take it you’ve come to seek my blessing to marry someone else?” Ciri drawls, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Not exactly. I’m here to ask which side you want me to choose."
Massaging her temples, the she-witcher questions, “How much did they offer you?”
“A lot… I’m talking full tax exemption for all my business dealings in the Tower in the future, and access to magical facilities that new Magi can only dream about."
Unless they get adopted by a Noble House.
“That explains it.” She does not look surprised by this revelation.
“Being a Magus is an expensive endeavor!” Being an politician even more so. “And what’s with that lackluster reaction?!”
“Leo, you drool at the mere sight of gold. I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes shine as brightly as yours do at the sight of valuable.” Shrugging, the Witcheress peels the skin off a Ghoul and continues. “I’d be honestly surprised if you had turned them down outright.”
Lips twitching in irritation, I retort. “I’m not that bad!”
“Oh, but you are!” Ciri exclaims, her fingers ghosting along my back, causing me to jump and whirl around.
“Hey! Butt-pinching is exclusively men’s privileges! I demand satisfaction for this stain upon my honor!”
Flashing a flirty grin over her shoulder, Ciri winks and says, “Come claim your reward, Milord.”
I give her a playful pinch through the leather that clings to her like a second skin and then spend the next two days attending to all my affairs.
During that time, I also visit Triss and Yennefer to ensure the last remnants of Zouken are completely dealt with, returning to Nasuverse much more knowledgeable about the Matou’s Magecraft.
Did you know that up to 8% of the human genome is made up of ancient viruses that have integrated into our DNA? I did, but I never imagined the concept would be the foundation of the Matou Magecraft, albeit on a far larger scale. The Crest Worms, while more parasitic than viral, function almost identically, which is how it was able to modify Sakura’s physiology down to her genome.
The process is also surprisingly smooth.
What’s actually shortening their lifespan is mostly the amount of Od Crest Worms require.
Even creating a Crest Worm is surprisingly straightforward. After all these years, I’ve finally understood why Zouken chose earthworms as the foundation for his Magecraft.
Their ability to divide and regenerate surpasses many other species, and with some magical enhancements, these traits were further amplified and fused with cancer to create the first Crest Worm, which consumed Od and produced more larvae, every one of which upon reaching maturity would produce more and more and more—infinitely. There’s a high likelihoods Zouken’s not dead.
Luckily, I’ve asked Kiritsugu to keep the girls in the vacation resort beforehand.
Thanks to Triss, I now possess a compass that allows me to insert tiny biological samples, and it will automatically point me toward the person from whom the sample originated.
It has a range of only 10 miles, but that’s more than sufficient for my needs.
Naturally, I didn’t just take without giving back.
Upon learning that the Great Lords had taken an interest in my existence, the Enforcers were quite accommodating.
While it was my money, they managed to collect a significant number of military rations from the local supermarkets.
These rations were then given to Triss and the Mages. Although it’s not quite the agreed amount, combined with hunting and fishing, it should be enough to sustain them until John fulfills his duty.
“See you later.” Pressing a kiss on Ciri’s forehead, I wink and get whisked away by [Void Bridge], startling the Enforcer who’s putting the hidden cameras back in their old spots.
“… This is just procedure,” She replies awkwardly, slipping the devices into her pocket.
“It’s procedure to put recording devices in someone’s room?” I raise an eyebrow questioningly.
“Well—technically, this isn’t your room anymore.”
“What, did they rent it out the moment I left or something?”
“It’s marked as empty in our database.”
We stare at each other awkwardly, but the silence can’t go on forever. “Say, which camp are you in: Aristocracy or Democracy?”
“Neither? I’ve been approached by both, but I couldn’t decide.”
“Then do you know who can get me in contact with Ambrosius?”
“Lord Ambrosius? The right-hand man of Lady Barthomeloi, that Ambrosius?”
“Yes. I have an answer to give him.”
I can barely remember who leads the Democratic Faction, but I know about Lorelei. Anyone who has delved a bit deeper into Nasu lore does. I’m not sure if the Democrats can or will protect me, but I know the Aristocrats will do what’s necessary, so long as they profit.
Better the Devil I know than the one I don’t.
The next fifteen minutes pass by in a blur until I’m brought to an office deeper within the underground HQ. ‘Department of Policies,’ reads the bold letters on the door. As we step inside, we’re immediately met with the sight of Enforcers bustling back and forth, lugging boxes filled with files.
“Looks pretty hectic.” I remark.
“Lady Barthomeloi is very efficient, but she’s also very strict.” My guide responds.
“Sounds terrible.”
“She’s even stricter on herself… It’s why nobody in the department ever complains. I’ve heard rumors that she hasn’t left her office since taking up the position.”
“Really?” What is this, ‘Rise of the NEETs?’
“To be fair, her office is quite comfortable, and Lord Ambrosius will never let Her Majesty worry about anything. He's like her shadow, been that way since Lady Barthomeloi was Heiress Barthomeloi.”
“Igsill? What are you doing here?”
An Enforcer calls out to us, his observant gaze flitting in my direction every so often.
“This here is Jasper…”
“Ah, speciman J? ‘The Magus of Twenty Wonders?’”
My limbs freeze in place at the peculiar epithet.
“Please, never call me that again.”
“Too late. That’s what every Department has taken to calling you—a Magus with 20 Sorcery Traits, who managed to escape despite the tight surveillance you were under.” Giving me a once-over, the Enforcer muses, “We thought you’d never return. You understand I can’t let you slip away, right?”
“Good, ‘cause I’m not here to run. I’m here to negotiate.”
“Oh?”
Silently, he sheaths the ritualistic knife and gestures. “There’s a meeting room to the side. If you follow me, I’ll submit a request to Lord Ambrosius—”
“I like the guy, but I want to speak directly with your… Queen.”
Instinctively, his eyes narrow; the words coming out of his mouth lacking any sort of tension or anger, yet irritating to the ears nevertheless. “You think you have any right? Her Majesty is of nobility and Mysteries, yet a mere peasant is demanding her presence? You forget your station.”
“As I recall, Magi are a dying breed. She needs me, maybe not to the extent I suspect, but talents sure are rare these days, aren’t they?”
“Yo—”
“Enough!” Marching down the hall, Ambrosius appears, glaring sternly at the Enforcer. “Return to work. I will take over from here.”
Seeing his superior, the Enforcer bows, hands folded in front of his stomach, before heading back to his desk. “Sir Hangman, I thought we’d never see you again.”
“I was consulting with my… Girlfriend.” Surprisingly, Ciri didn’t seem to mind, as long as I promised to visit every month instead of every two. It wasn’t like I was giving her an ultimatum either. Playing the role of a Magus on Easy Difficulty might be simpler, but I have always preferred Veteran Mode in both FPS and hack-n’-slash—as long as it’s not a MOBA. “She gave me the go-ahead, but I want to talk to your… Boss(?) first? Will that be an issue?”
“Cone, Milady’s already waiting for you.”
Lady Barthomeloi’s office rests deep within the Department, protected by a multitude of Bounded Fields. Typically, Bounded Fields are like engines—constructed on already existing frameworks with modifications according to the Magus’s preferences. But these? I can neither make head nor tail of.
“You guys sure didn’t skim on security.”
“Milady has a… Special position within the Tower. Same with Lord Trambelio.”
“Trambelio? Is that the ‘President’ of the Democratic Faction?”
“You still refer to him as Lord?”
“Enemy or not, a noble must always maintain decorum. Just because our enemies behave like savages doesn’t mean we should stoop to their level."
Surprisingly sagacious advice…
“I’m more of an ‘eye for an eye’ type of guy. My goal isn’t to make the world better, but to make my enemies suffer.”
I aim not to change my enemies, but to make them cry.
“An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.” Ambrosius challenges.
“An eye for an eye won’t leave the world blind if the eye I seek has always been mine. If you take back what’s yours, it is Justice.”
“Sounds more like Vengeance.”
“Is there a difference?”
“There is—it’s called consequence.”
As expected of Merlin’s descendant… How very idealistic of him.
I shrug. “Sometimes you just gotta say screw the consequences and stand your ground.”
Cowardly as I act, even I have a tipping point.
Everybody does.
“Here we are.” Knocking thrice on the door made of polished African Blackwood… “Milday, I bring young Mr. Jasper.”
“Come on in.”
Seeing her is akin to encountering King Yama himself. It’s a combination of factors, really: The frigid air with which she carries herself, the perpetual motion of her hands reminiscent of the ever-busy King of Hell, and an expression that screams genuine disinterest in everything around her… The Queen of the Clock Tower looks absentminded, almost.
Meanwhile, Ambrosius settles into the corner, looking all prim and proper in his suit.
I really need to get one fitted for myself soon.
Suit’s the closest equivalence of the armor, besides bulletproof vest that is.
“Lady Barthomeloi—”
“Jasper Hangman… Poor choice for a fake name, but I’ll allow it.”
‘Oh, look who’s talking! Fucking Lorelei Barthomeloi and Titus Ambrosius over here…’ I keep the thought to myself, of course.
With a loud click of her pen, Barthomeloi finally looks at me. “You don’t look like much.”
“Never judge a book by its cover.”
Taking no offense—mainly because of the ridiculous amount of benefits she promised me, I lazily pull the seat opposite hers and sit down, a smile splitting my face despite Ambrosius’ hesitant gasp.
“No manners, do you?”
“None, I’m afraid.”
I’ve rubbed elbows with too many Kings, Queens, and Princess in recent days to care anymore—even drowned one to death if I recall. Worst case scenario, I walk out of here unharmed with [Notice-Me-Not], or just fight my way out the old-fashioned way to show I’m not to be triffled with. “I find myself agreeable to your terms, but I have a few demands.”
Lady Barthomeloi cautions with a frigid tone, “Greed has its merits, but only in moderation. Careful lest you overreach, Hangman...” Gaze cutting through my composure, which remains as steadfast as the Great Wall of China.
“This discussion primarily concerns my… Intended bride and the arrangements for our child. Let me make this clear: This relationship will be strictly professiomal. My sole motivation is the privileges I am promised, which is why I would prefer a partner who’s completely devoid of romantic inclinations.”
Lorelei’s gaze narrows, “And how, pray tell, do you intend to consummate this marriage?”
The creases in her puffed-up, equestrian attire deepen as she leans forward. “Your Lineage was specified as a prerequisite in the terms, it is a necessity if you wish to avoid a Sealing Designation.”
“I have thought of that: Artificial insemination. I shall provide a small sample of my… Seed. This, however, leads to my other demands.” I pause to take a sip of the tea Ambrosius has offered. “I’d like a 15 years grace period.”
Lorelei’s brow furrows as she sharply interjects, “That is too long.”
Undeterred, I tilt my head and continue, “Hear me out, if you will. As I’m sure Mr. Ambrosius has already informed you, my Sorcery Traits have been steadily upgrading over time. With an additional 15 years, imagine the new Traits or the enhanced power of my existing ones… Surely, it would be more advantageous for the child to inherit such abilities instead of what I have currently?”
Lorelei hums contemplatively, her posture stiffening as she rises. “So you claimed… Whatever Trait that’s generating all these new Sorcery Traits is surely inhertiable?”
“Yeah…” I reply with a hint of amusement, drawing out the word. “What I possess is more akin to an unteachable Miracle than a mere Trait.”
The [ToI] is probably the closest thing to True Magic on Earth, besides the actual True Magic that is.
“If you’re trying to persuade me to impose a Sealing Designation on you, you’re certainly doing a good job of it.”
“If you try, I’ll fight. If I fail, I’ll flee. And if worst comes to worst… Better to die than live as a lab rat.”
Lorelei’s eyes rake over my face, hunting for any flicker of dishonesty.
Finding none, she lets out a humorless snort.
“Next item on the agenda: My… ‘Breeding quota.’”
I take a moment to school my features, then swing an arm over the back of the chair. “One.”
“Insufficient. Three is the standard.”
“Excessive. My schedule is full.”
Her voice drops, turning glacial. “Let me remind you, without this arrangement, you’d be on your back, legs splayed, while they relieved you of your genetic material surgically.”
“Two, final offer. One to inherit the Barthomeloi name; one mine. Additionally, I won’t let my blood be raised like a lab rats. Either I’m involved, or I’m out.”
“Agreeable.”
“Then we have a deal?” I extend my hand, a sliver of apprehension remaining.
“Welcome to the Aristocracy, ‘Hangman,’” She replies, facial features frozen solid.
Our hands meet in a firm clasp, the silence crackling with words unspoken.
Then, with a crisp click of her fingers, Lorelei Barthomeloi beckons her butler over, the latter of whom quickly putting a book in front of me.
“Inside, you’ll find a list of every eligible Magus of marriageable age. Take your pick.”
She taps on the slim notebook on the table, cold and calculating eyes pressuring me. “There’s typically a bridal price, of course. But given the circumstances, I can waive it.”
Sliding the notebook across the table, I cross my arms over my chest. “Just pick one. Any one that fits the criteria. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Lorelei arches a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “No preferences at all?”
“Just make sure she’s easy on the eyes.” I can’t even muster the energy to feign interest.
My role in this charade is purely biological anyways.
“Men… What does it matter if you’re not going to consumate the marriage?”
“Everyone knows good-looking people have a higher chance of having good-looking children. I don’t want my kids to play Life on Hard Difficulty.”
People can loudly proclaim that 'inner beauty is everything' all they want, but that's not even close to the truth.
The truth is most girls want Chris Hemsworth, and most guys are attracted to Angelina Jolie.
It's simply a fact of life.
Humanity is magnetically drawn to 'beauty' much like moths to an open flame, for it is not the Soul people see at first-glance, but instead the physical Vessel.
“How vain… But realistic.”
Lorelei Barthomeloi shoves her notebook aside and fixes me with a gaze that stretches on indefinitely. "How about me?"
I spit at the sudden question, while Ambrosius yells, “Milady—!”
“Enough.” She glares at the butler. “House Barthomeloi must be continued, and if I can improve on our Lineage, I don’t mind marrying him.”
Meanwhile, I just blink, allowing words to bounce in my skull.
“Is this a prank? Am I getting fucking bambozzled right now?”
“It is not. I’m 25 this year,” She states.
‘Wait, this bish is only two years older than me?!’
“You’re around my age. With the Potion of Youth, I’ll remain at my prime for at least another four decades. Fifteen years won’t be an issue, unless…” Lazily, her neatly trimmed nails tap on the polished wood. “You think I’m not a good match?”
“That’s not it… I’m just… Surprised. Are you sure?”
“I don’t believe I’m ugly,” She begins to list. “I do not want to get romantically involved with you, and since you were worried about your children’s education and safety, I can promise you they’ll be raised right, with or without your assistance.”
Somehow I have a feeling my idea of ‘right’ and hers are drastically different.
“The Od in your bloodline is not up to standard,” She says, her gaze turning critical. “But you can fix that, I’m sure?”
I wearily nod, mind still whirling. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“If what you’ve said were true, the combination of our Lineages can create a Magus of unprecedented talents.”
“What if I were lying?”
My eyes follow her as she rises from her seat, quite a bit shorter than I expected.
“Were you?” Lorelei asks, beckoning both me and her flabbergasted butler.
“No, but I could have been!”
He and I share a look, before chasing after the Queen of the Clock Tower.
A little over an hour later, I find myself in my newly assigned office in the Department of Policies, clutching a marriage certificate and a Prenup to boots, both of which Lorelei abused her authority to legitimize…
And then she just fucking upped and vanished with Ambrosius trailing behind her like a baby duckling.
“Okay, what in the fuck just happened?!”
Comments
Ano Nymous
No promise.
Hoang Nguyen Bui
Shiro does the high jump. Leo: “Damn, that works on me?! I’m now part of her harem!”
