The Final Plan: Forge the Dragon's Head into a Weapon
"So that was your request."
Having quickly steadied herself after the shock, Shiyali raised a hand. Aether Lines measured in microns flowed out and pierced the body buried beneath the soil.
"Since there's no brain, I can't see its memories or peer into its mind. I can only obtain surface-level information from the body..."
"Is it troublesome?"
The silver-haired boy blinked. Shiyali drew diagrams in the air, first writing the name of Albion's spiritual tomb, then sketching two opposing triangles as a simple diagram of the Dragon of Albion's remains.
"As you said, this Pureblood Dragon you call the Dragon of Albion is, even as a corpse, still a supreme existence on the scale of physical bodies for humans. Its two-thousand-meter-long body is buried underground. By my calculations, assuming there are no major geological shifts, even if I establish a workshop and use necromantic forging, it will conservatively take... probably twenty years."
"Twenty years."
Novia murmured. Frankly speaking, for Shiyali to successfully refine the Dragon of Albion's remains in only twenty years more than lived up to her title as a candidate for the next director of the Atlas Institute. After all, this was a Dragon Kind that had nearly dug through to the Reverse Side through its body alone.
However, Novia believed that if it truly took that long, an accident might occur one day. If other magi learned of this place, it would be enough to stir up a new storm in Europe's magecraft world. Objectively speaking, magi were selfish and prioritized efficiency. If ordinary magi discovered this place, their first thought would most likely be to claim it for themselves. Only if they could not conceal it would they cooperate.
After all, the Clock Tower of later generations had gained immense magical assets from Albion's tomb. That was how it became a beacon of hope in the declining world of magecraft, and an organization that stood alongside the Wandering Sea and the Atlas Institute. Every part of it was treasure.
But Novia and Shiyali were clearly anomalies among magi. Novia was a transmigrator, while Shiyali, though she had not been human before, was a good person because her moral compass had been formed through the good and evil she perceived via Aether Lines.
However, the purple-haired girl was now on the path to confronting her own nature.
That was why she frowned when Novia fell silent.
There was genuine irritation in it, faint though it was, making her next words aggressive.
"I can only guarantee roughly twenty years. And because the Dragon of Albion's soul has completely vanished, there will be no lingering negative elements such as 'regret' or 'resentment' after necromantic forging. I can't guarantee you anything else."
Necromantic forging referred to the Atlas Institute's combination of necromancy and alchemy. Since the bodies of magi and Phantasmal Species remained rich in magical energy even after their souls vanished, they could be made into extremely powerful Mystic Codes.
"I understand. Twenty years really is the fastest possible."
Novia nodded, thinking that if so, then it was time to carry out another plan.
"Then could you forge the Dragon of Albion's head into a weapon for me? There's no need for the body."
Though he could not obtain a fiercely loyal Dragon Kind, forging a weapon from its head would be close enough. That was Novia's plan. After all, Fairy Knight Lancelot had been born merely from its left claw, so using its head should not be much of a problem.
As for what shape it would take, Novia had already decided. He would make it resemble that gun used by Fairy Lancelot.
"The h-head? But isn't this dragon's head severed—"
The girl spoke in confusion as she observed Novia.
Yet while she was speaking, Novia dug open the soil on the other side, revealing the Dragon of Albion's head that he had found deeper underground.
The Dragon of Albion stuck out its tongue when it died...
Thinking that, Shiyali inserted her Aether Lines into the Dragon of Albion's head and began calculating.
"I still can't see its memories, but if I'm only forging the head, it should take just one year."
"Then I'll leave it to you, Shiyali."
"But what weapon do you want? A sword? A spear? Or a bow—"
"This."
When Shiyali saw the futuristic design blueprint Novia took out, even though she was an alchemist of the Atlas Institute and had long grown accustomed to all manner of strange ideas, she still sincerely thought the weapon in the blueprint looked incredibly cool.
"I'll forge it according to this design."
Shiyali answered briefly. Without hesitation, she began constructing a magecraft workshop there at an astonishing speed.
"You're starting now? Don't you need to prepare first? How about I show you around Britain for a few days?"
Novia folded his arms and extended the invitation with a smile.
"There's no need. Those things you mentioned are meaningless to me. Oh, and judging from how well you made that blueprint, you could probably join the Atlas Institute if you wanted."
Shiyali said it casually.
Then she immediately added,
"I forgot for a moment that you've already joined Christianity. Anyway, I'll give you what you want in a year."
"It's already settled?"
After leaving the cave, Novia saw Lucius sitting on the grass beside the entrance, tending a campfire, and walked over.
"Yes. It should be ready in a year."
"Only one year? That little girl is that capable? I thought it would take decades, considering how huge that dragon was."
"You've misunderstood. What I gave Shiyali was the Dragon of Albion's head."
The crimson campfire illuminated the barren grassland as the two engaged in meaningless conversation.
"Come to think of it, you're only sixteen. You've already done so much. Are you still going to keep at it?"
Lucius spoke with some sorrow, perhaps feeling that despite being the older one, he was powerless to do more for the boy before him.
"My name is Novia. Paul and the others raised me, so shouldn't I repay them? Besides, no amount of crying or shouting can change the current situation. If I'm the only one who can do it, then I'll face it head-on. Even if it isn't what I want, even if I have to use myself as a test subject, I'll do what I should do."
Just like the day they had first met, the boy's words contained an emotion Lucius could not understand. Yet without a doubt, Lucius could feel the sincere wish poured into those words.
Thus, Lucius grinned again and touched the old scar on his cheek, vivid as a cross.
"Then do your best, Lord Novia."
For Humans, Things That Need No Reflection
After deciding how to handle the Dragon of Albion, Novia stayed in Britain for around two months. While there, he also properly dealt with the tribes that had been the first to side with Rome during Rome's earlier expedition to Britain.
Since Rome conquered Britain, Emperor Claudius and the Senate had shared a strategy of plundering local wealth through heavy taxes and usury. The tribes that had sided with Rome, meanwhile, relied on Rome's military deterrence and financial support to become tribes with relatively favorable living conditions.
Given Novia's current position, his visit could naturally be regarded as Emperor Claudius's intention. The silver-haired boy allowed those tribes a certain degree of independence. So long as they repaid their debts to Rome and obeyed the law, they could remain that way. And if enough time passed, the policy might shift toward conciliation and appeasement.
In truth, this was also Novia's attempt to prevent the future uprising that would sweep across Britain. One of the tribes that had sided with Rome was the Iceni, whose leader was Boudica's husband. According to Novia's memories, before dying, the man had intended to divide his territory in two, leaving one half to his children and using the other to repay Rome's debts.
Yet the governor of Britain in the original history had ignored this. Without seeking the emperor's approval, he seized all of the man's land and humiliated the family members who came to demand an explanation. Though excessive taxation and other factors were also involved, this had been the direct spark in plain sight.
That was why Novia used this as a safeguard. Britain, as a province controlled by the Roman emperor, was now under the authority of someone Claudius trusted greatly. Naturally, after Lucius left office, Novia could choose a reliable person to become the new governor.
Once everything had been arranged, Novia returned to Rome. Come to think of it, he had obtained Claudius's permission to go to Britain by saying, "There may be changes among the local British Druids."
The sun near noon hung high in the sky. After finishing the lesson and leaving Domitius inside to study the doctrine on her own, Novia sat in a chair outside. Though he knew the blonde girl liked music, art, literature, and theater, for now she still had to prioritize the doctrine he was spreading.
His azure eyes reflected the endless grasslands and tiny flowers. Blended together, the pastoral scenery looked like an illustration from a fairy tale.
Even now, Novia still lived outside Rome, having repeatedly declined Claudius's arrangements for a house within the city.
"Britain still needs another ten months. Next come the Senate, Agrippina, Claudius, Jerusalem, Judaism..."
Those were the troubles Novia believed still had to be resolved.
"One at a time."
After all, vastness was the greatest obstacle to rule.
Among the Roman Empire's forty-five provinces, they could roughly be divided between those whose governors were appointed by the emperor and those whose governors were appointed by the Senate. Imperial provinces were mostly borderlands of strategic importance or vital grain-producing regions, such as Germania and Egypt, and generally had heavy military garrisons. Senatorial provinces were mostly wealthy inner provinces, the most important being the provinces of Greece.
The reason Octavian, the founder of the Roman Empire, had arranged things this way was simple: he used money to buy the Senate's support for the emperor.
At present, the Christianity Novia promoted was spreading extremely quickly throughout the imperial provinces, while in the senatorial provinces, apart from regions where he and Paul had worked earlier, progress was painfully slow.
At its core, Novia's effort to spread his doctrine into the Greek provinces was a strategy to seize Greece. Greece was a core interest of the Senate, and the Senate would certainly resist to the bitter end. After all, the upper classes of society, who went to every possible length to protect their privileges and immense wealth, could not possibly hand over the interests they held in their own hands.
Within the Roman court, after Agrippina became Claudius's secretary, events had developed exactly as Novia expected. The sixty-year-old emperor had already approached Novia several times to discuss making her empress. Though Novia advised the old emperor to observe for longer, it was clear that it would happen soon, because Agrippina had indeed performed very well.
As for Emperor Claudius himself, though he had always appeared to heed Novia's advice, whenever the Praetorian Guard or making Novia's reformed Christianity Rome's state religion came up, he always changed the subject.
Naturally, Novia understood that the old emperor intended to keep a few trump cards for himself, preventing Novia from becoming a threat to him after successfully crushing the Senate. After all, as long as the Praetorian Guard remained, the position of emperor was still in Claudius's hands.
The Praetorian Guard, which could decide an emperor's life or death, and the Senate, which had the authority to reject an emperor's appointments—these were both obstacles to Novia making the Christianity he spread Rome's state religion.
As for the Judaism entrenched in Jerusalem, Novia had long decided how to deal with it. He could ignore it elsewhere, but those people had truly executed Jesus, the Son of God whose teachings he spread. Though in propaganda and in actuality, Jesus had borne humanity's sins before Heaven, those people had clearly already "betrayed" him. They had to be dealt with.
Once he obtained the weapon forged from the Dragon of Albion's head a year later, Novia planned to find a suitable reason to declare them all heretics and lead Rome's legions in giving them a new-century "Roman captivity."
As for whether that would tarnish his reputation, Novia did not care in the slightest. So long as he smoothly completed these things, established the Holy Church in advance, and became its first pope, later believers would naturally keep finding excuses for him. They could call black white. After all, that was a form of legitimacy. Was that not how the Great Emperor Zetian of the East, centuries later, had operated as well?
Moreover, John, who wrote the New Covenant, was one of the twelve apostles. Since Novia had been raised by Paul, he naturally knew him as well. What the silver-haired boy did could be considered spreading Christ's glory. Perhaps John would even add another category for him because of it.
"Three years already."
Thinking of this, Novia took a deep breath. It had probably been three years since he left Anatolia Province. His memories of that place had grown somewhat faint, leaving him feeling lonely. It had been manageable when he spoke with Lucius, but now that he was alone, he missed it more and more.
Though only fixed labels remained in his memories, that could not be helped. Human memories gradually deteriorated.
"For now, Agrippina can't stir up trouble. On the surface, she's still on my side." Novia inhaled lightly, rose to his feet, and headed for the Roman palace. "I'll take a ship back to visit in a few days."
However, Novia felt that compared to his new life, he missed his hometown more. For a man, that was something worth reflecting on.
Iron Fist... Old Woman
In the year 50 AD, Antioch lay in the northeastern Mediterranean, roughly five hundred kilometers north of Jerusalem.
In this world, the disciples of Jesus Christ were called Christians, and this was where the original Christian doctrine began.
A gentle breeze swept over the streets, barren soil, and sea. The people living here enjoyed peaceful lives.
"So this is where you grew up, Teacher Novia?"
Domitius took a bite of the food she had made and looked at Novia.
"Yes."
Beneath the clear, lofty sky, the two walked together.
A few days earlier, after Novia decided to return for a visit, he explained his reasons to Emperor Claudius and naturally received permission.
Yet the next day, he discovered that Domitius had also sneaked aboard the ship heading back. Though Novia could have thrown her directly into the sea and made her swim back to shore, he decided there was no need. Letting her see places beyond Rome was not a bad idea. After all, this blonde girl was the one who would later become Roman emperor and host and participate in the Olympics as emperor. Perhaps it was simply in her nature.
Though Novia had only been away from Antioch for three years, and though this place was merely his hometown in this era, he still felt deeply moved the instant he returned. The people's lives blended into the scenery here, and the wind was as it had always been, carrying a trace of chill yet remaining so peaceful.
Because they had used magecraft, the people around them did not cast glances at the two figures, who would have stood out even if thrown into a crowd.
"Teacher, did you really walk from here to Rome in just one year? Without taking a carriage or ship? You were only fourteen then, right?"
The blonde girl tilted her head slightly.
"With Lucius around, it was manageable. He taught me spear techniques for a while, after all."
"I see. Then how about we walk back this time too, Teacher? I can teach you... singing and things like that. Ahem, I'm a genius, you know."
"Stop thinking about playing around. When we go back, you'll ride in a carriage for an hour every day."
"Teacher, I was wrong. I'll never dare again. Please don't do that."
"That depends on your behavior."
The reason Novia said this was because after getting to know Domitius, he discovered that this "Nero" had the unimaginable condition of getting a sore backside from riding in carriages.
As the two carried on their meaningless conversation and passed through the bustling crowd, a small white chapel with its door open finally entered their sight.
For Domitius, who had grown up in Rome, it was undoubtedly incredibly shabby. Though the several layers of tangled ivy and lush weeds were rather charming, cracks covered the white exterior, making her suspect that if the wind blew, the chapel would come crashing down.
But when she remembered that this was where her teacher had grown up, she prayed that her grandteacher would not dislike her and followed Novia up the steps outside the chapel with a pounding heart.
"Bullshit!"
The sudden furious roar rang through the little chapel, making it tremble faintly.
Domitius instinctively glanced at Novia beside her. The voice was undoubtedly Paul, whom Novia had mentioned. She could tell he was nearly sixty. Her grandteacher was using such crude language—what would her teacher think?
Yet in her eyes, Novia showed no reaction. He merely quickened his pace, likely wanting to know what had happened as well.
"You Jews! Don't spout that nonsense about old or new covenants! What age do you think this is?! I remember what happened sixteen years ago! Believe it or not, I'll find someone to write a new book someday! Around the Mediterranean, which one of you can out-argue us?!"
As they drew closer, the conversation inside became clearer. The old man's dissatisfied tone was openly barbed.
"Sir Paul, what I have said is a decision jointly reached by the elders in Jerusalem. Joining us is an immense honor for you branches that originated from our Judaism."
The mage on the other side responded to the old man, his tone extremely cold.
Before you continue