Type-Moon, Does a Small Cheat Count as a Cheat?

Tap, tap, tap. The girl's footsteps were quite steady.

"Has he left already?"

A few seconds later, Shiyali returned from the room where she had made her report. Looking at the inexplicably sorrowful headmaster, she expressionlessly took another careful bite of the food in her palm.

"Forget it. I'll return it to him next time I get the chance. After all, it isn't mine."

Roman Court Incident

"The Divine Envoy resolved the matter in Alexandria and should be richly rewarded."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

From then on, Novia's daily life outside Rome was basically set.

Before dawn, he would gaze at the nearby trees from the window. After noon, he would take walks around the area and preach the doctrine. Before the setting sun wrapped everything in its glow, he would return here. At night, he usually trained somewhere without people around, swinging his sword at leaves falling from trees so his arms would not grow dull.

If Novia's guess was correct, the reason Claudius I's attitude toward him had suddenly changed so drastically was probably because the current empress, Messalina, had whispered something into the fifty-year-old emperor's ear while Novia had been away.

Even so, Claudius had fulfilled his promise to grant Christianity certain privileges within the empire. Novia did not mind. After all, the road had to be taken one step at a time. Once he had time to return to Anatolia Province, he would see whether he could persuade Paul and the others to accept the ideas he preached and help him.

The Roman Empire was simply too vast. Novia alone could not possibly spread the Christian faith throughout it before Claudius died.

Moreover, Novia guessed that Claudius's death in the year 54 was probably a fixed event. That meant he had less than six years left. Within those six years, he needed to find a reasonable excuse to sweep through Judaism in Jerusalem, and wait for Lucius to dig up the Dragon of Albion's corpse and use alchemy to refine it...

Every single task would take a long time.

After Claudius died, Nero would ascend the throne—the "tyrant" beloved by the people and renowned throughout Type-Moon history.

At that point, Novia could not guarantee things would go as smoothly as they did now. Still, without the help of her mother Agrippina, Nero probably would not have become emperor so smoothly. But that was hard to say, because Type-Moon's inevitable events could not be altered no matter what. Novia therefore could not predict what exactly would happen if he tried to rewrite this period of history.

And just as Novia was being quietly suppressed, Agrippina, Nero's mother and a member of the imperial family, was as well.

To secure her son's future succession to the throne, Empress Messalina had fiercely suppressed imperial relatives with a chance at inheriting it. She had even made Claudius execute his own secretary. Under Emperor Claudius I's indulgence, it was no exaggeration to say she had single-handedly covered the sky.

However, Novia did not care about that in the slightest. After all, he knew what would happen next. He only needed to wait patiently.

"Lord Novia."

Hearing the voice, Novia raised his head and looked toward the fifty-year-old man limping down the windowless corridor.

"Greetings, Your Majesty."

Perhaps out of wariness toward "God," Emperor Claudius came to chat with Novia every few days. Novia wanted to directly persuade the man to become a Christian, but the old fox always changed the subject.

Novia had considered using the drop of water obtained from the Atlas Institute to cure Claudius's illness, but after thinking it over, he felt the loss would outweigh the gain. He gave up on the idea and gave it to Lucius instead.

After all, Novia had promised Lucius that he would cure his Biting Pain. Lucius had followed him for a year without asking many questions, so by both reason and sentiment, Novia had to ease his suffering first.

At present, Novia was basically preparing to take control of the Praetorian Guard responsible for Rome, then let Christianity under his leadership sweep across all of Europe. Beyond that, he also needed to find someone to handle political affairs for the Roman emperor... and Novia had long decided on the final candidate. He was merely waiting for the right time.

"No need to bow. It was my fault to have the Divine Envoy live outside the city."

"Your Majesty, this is a necessary courtesy, and one permitted by God."

Novia wore his usual smile, though inwardly he clicked his tongue. Save the polite nonsense, Claudius. Did you think I actually believed you?

"Hahaha, then there is nothing to be done." Claudius opened the large, ancient book Novia had placed on the table. It appeared to record many religious ideas. After flipping through several pages, he stopped. "Still, every time I come here, I see you reading books about faith, Novia."

"For people like us, it is necessary. By the way, may Your Majesty forgive me for something?"

"Oh? What is it?"

"The recent rain caused the nearby river to flood, and the bridge leading to the harbor has become impassable..."

"The food stored here is enough to last through winter. You should have no problem alone, should you?"

Claudius asked with simple puzzlement, and Novia showed an apologetic smile.

"No, it is not a matter of food. Travelers who accidentally arrived here because they could not cross the bridge asked me for help. May they stay here until the rain stops? I thought I could not let lost people lose their shelter, so I agreed, but this is a place Your Majesty bestowed upon me alone."

"There is absolutely no need for my permission!" Claudius rose from his seat and righteously patted Novia on the shoulder. "You did very well. Everyone in my empire should give their full support to such things."

"I am deeply grateful for Your Majesty's approval."

The reason Novia did these things and told Emperor Claudius about them was to make Claudius subconsciously believe that what Christianity preached was reasonable. That way, Christianity's sheltering of the homeless and its care for neighbors infected with disease regardless of status or faith would become natural and justified within the empire.

"Your Majesty."

Someone else's voice came from outside the room. It was likely one of the people responsible for Emperor Claudius's travel arrangements and security.

"What is it?"

"The situation is urgent. Please allow me to report to Your Majesty in person."

"Come in."

Novia had originally intended to make room, but Claudius silently shook his head, indicating that it was fine for him to remain.

Very soon, the person in charge of security entered and whispered something into Emperor Claudius's ear without hesitation.

"...Your Majesty, please make a decision quickly."

After hearing the report, Emperor Claudius I's eyes flashed with fury. Seeing that change, Novia seemed to realize something.

"Everyone, follow me. Return to Rome at once!"

The day had been overcast from morning, like white clouds mixed into darkness. As the sun dipped westward, rain struck the ground and thunder roared, the weather worsening until even the window frames seemed to shake.

This was the court incident Novia had been waiting for—

Empress Messalina was holding a wedding with her lover.

"Please Kill Yourself, for Your Children"

There was a saying: "All roads lead to Rome." In that saying, Rome represented all beautiful things in people's eyes.

Naturally, that saying also gave people hope and expectation through "Rome." When it came to ancient history, people thought of its great civilization, yet they did not know the ugliness hidden behind that seemingly magnificent civilization.

Since the Second Punic War, Rome had gained immense wealth. Slaves and grain had continuously been transported to the empire across the Mediterranean.

Corruption and debauchery were often inseparable, and corruption was inseparable from wealth. Furthermore, among the nobles of ancient Rome, adultery by noblewomen was commonplace. There was no notion that adultery within marriage was unforgivable.

During the era of the First Triumvirate, Caesar had slept with the wives of the other two, and they both knew. It did not stop the brothers from drinking together.

Even one's own younger sister or mother could become one's woman. This also meant that, whether within the country or abroad, this nation's views on familial ethics were not particularly strong.

Novia knew this clearly. The most important reason Emperor Claudius I was furious was not that Empress Messalina had held a wedding with her lover, but that he feared it would threaten his own position.

This man, who had only become emperor at fifty, had not prepared a pool of governing talent. Thus, he heavily employed freed slaves from his household as secretaries. Over time, these people's power rapidly expanded during his reign.

Empress Messalina was the same. By the year 48, she had made Claudius execute most of those secretaries.

According to the intelligence Claudius possessed, many senators, high-ranking officials, and military officers had attended the wedding of Empress Messalina and her lover.

Claudius knew perfectly well how he himself had obtained the throne, so he was exceedingly worried about this. Put another way, if Messalina had not invited so many people, Claudius might not have been so enraged.

However, at this moment, the emperor's long-absent fury had already been conveyed through the magi stationed in Rome.

"Brutus, I appoint you the new commander of the Praetorian Guard. Bring the guards into Rome as quickly as possible."

Claudius sat in the carriage returning to Rome, considering how to deal with Messalina. Should it be handled as a public crime, or settled as a family matter?

Because Novia was sitting inside Claudius's carriage, he could see that Claudius seemed quite hesitant.

It was probably because his young daughter and son had written letters at their mother's instruction, begging their father to spare their mother's life, or at least give Messalina a chance to explain herself.

Though Novia had not known Claudius for long, he understood this man quite well. For the first fifty years of his life, Claudius had never been valued by anyone, so he did not understand what it meant to be treated with reverence. In other words, the word reverence did not exist in his mind. That was why he had previously cared only about what benefits the faiths of the Roman Gods and Christianity could bring him.

Clatter, clatter. The wind battered the window as the cold gale howled with violent sounds.

Claudius's gaze was drawn to it. He set the letter down on the table for the moment and let out a sigh.

"Novia, I ask you to summon that unfortunate woman to the palace tomorrow morning and have her explain herself clearly to me."

"Yes."

Novia knew that when Claudius called Messalina "that unfortunate woman," it seemed he intended to spare her.

For Novia, this was not an ideal development, but it was still acceptable.

Because he, the messenger, would give the empress a friendly "dignity."

Rain fell outside. The cold wind cut to the bone. The sky, the houses, and the passing figures were all shrouded in gloomy gray. Holding an umbrella that symbolized Claudius, Novia listened to the patter of rain, watched the white mist of his breath, and headed toward the garden where the empress's lover was staying.

Under Rome's night sky, the magnificent courtyard was covered in vivid paintings. On either side stood magic-powered lamps and Greek-style statues. Everywhere was extravagance enough to make one sigh.

As Novia had come as Claudius's representative, almost no one dared stop him. He quickly arrived at the garden owner's chamber.

"M-My lord, spare me! Please let me explain to His Majesty, I am not—"

The empress's lover was a senator, even elected consul for the following year, but his begging did not make Novia hesitate in the slightest. He cut off the man's head with a single stroke.

"You are Novia? Fine, take me to Claudius quickly. This was only an accident. I am his wife, and our children are the future rulers of the empire—"

However, Novia ran a finger along the sword in his hand and calmly spoke to Empress Messalina, who still showed no fear.

"Valeria Messalina, please kill yourself. This is for the future of your children, Octavia and Britannicus."

The silver-haired youth's tone made it sound as though this was the only thing important to Messalina at that moment.

"This..." Messalina's face instantly turned ashen upon hearing that. Then she tremblingly took the sword from Novia's hand. "Claudius... is that what he means?"

Novia nodded without confirming or denying it.

"Octavia and Britannicus... my children..."

Messalina squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips moved constantly, her footsteps unsteady. At last, tears streamed down her face, yet she still could not drive the sword into her own chest.

If you knew it would come to this, why do it in the first place? Novia thought. This twenty-three-year-old empress had been extraordinarily unpopular. Previously, to seize a famous actor as a lover, she had forced a romantic rival to commit suicide. She had also driven a Roman consul to death, all for a garden in his possession said to be the most beautiful in Rome.

And every night, she secretly slipped out of the imperial palace and went to the red-light district beneath the stands of the Great Circus, working night shifts under the name "Lyriska."

"The performance should be over by now."

Novia snatched back the sword. In the next instant, he plunged it deep into Messalina's chest, killing her with one strike. Then the silver-haired youth pulled out the blood-soaked sword and tossed it aside.

After walking outside, he announced to the people in the garden—

Valeria Messalina knew the weight of her sins and was too ashamed to face the people of the empire again. She had gone to seek God's forgiveness.

Afterward, Messalina's statues were quietly torn down and destroyed by those dissatisfied with her. Following a cremation attended by no family members, even her ashes could not be buried in the "Temple of the Emperors."

When Claudius learned that his wife had committed suicide, he did not doubt it. In an instant, he seemed to lose every emotion—sorrow, fury, and all the rest.

He no longer had the energy to pay much attention to his young children who had lost their mother. His wife had done something that betrayed him, and this sixty-year-old man could only devote all his energy to state affairs.

"Cough, cough, cough. Little Novia, you said before that Seneca is an exceptionally rare talent, right? I grant it. He may return from Corsica."

Within the flower-filled Roman palace, the vast earth stretched as far as the eye could see. The aged old man, worn down by time, tightly held Novia's hand. Perhaps this was what happened when a person grew old and lost their spiritual support.

"Your Majesty is wise. Under God's protection, may you enjoy good health."

The silver-haired youth's tone was calm. His azure eyes were always as quiet as the sea in deep winter, as though one were looking upward from the depths of the ocean.

"And Octavia and Britannicus, please teach them as well. Lead them onto the right path..."

"Yes."

"The Young Ominous Star That Will Burn Everything"

Seneca, not long returned from exile, had just finished his duties for the day and was walking through the grand Roman palace, formed of white marble halls and fluttering red banners.

"Rome looks different under the sunlight, doesn't it?"

Hearing this, Seneca turned around and respectfully bowed.

Behind him, on a protruding boulder, stood a silver-haired youth dressed in a simple white robe. Bathed in the beauty of the warm afternoon, his skin had turned rosy beneath the sun.

"Greetings, Lord Novia."

"Seneca, how are Their Highnesses progressing in their studies?"

"They are doing very well."

"You have worked hard."

Nodding in satisfaction, Novia sat in a nearby chair, and Seneca followed suit.

"Prince Britannicus is only seven, and Princess Octavia is only nine. They are both still young, so I will have to rely on you to look after their studies."

Seneca silently nodded. Since meeting the youth before him, the fifty-year-old man had always been surprised... or perhaps, it was admiration.