Chapter 215: Solomon's Disciple
Martha had found her direction.
From this day onward, she would walk this land, dispelling the Evil Dragon from within people's hearts, granting them self determination, letting the Lord reside within them. Letting everyone have their own Lord, so that each person could become master of their own heart.
This was a path called saint.
It would not be easy.
But Martha had already decided.
In the end, Rowe could only give her a blessing.
May your future always be clear and bright.
The words scattered on the wind, yet they still seemed to carve themselves between heaven and earth, as the Spirit of Chaos lowered its primordial gaze.
And next, Rowe would also go to settle his own affairs.
The sky was fully bright now. Morning sunlight fell clean and warm across the world.
Rowe returned to the First Consul's chamber in Rome and found Nero already awake.
"Hmm, my Adjutant, I have been waiting for a long time!"
In the spacious palace, the Emperor sat on the throne. Golden hair was tied back with red silk ribbons. Her red, layered long skirt swayed lightly as she tilted her head and narrowed her emerald eyes.
"Adjutant, where did you go, abandoning me?"
Dust motes drifted in the sunlight like fireflies. The red carpet seemed to ripple with shifting light and shadow. The pillars stood rigid and tall, reflecting crisp echoes.
As Nero's words fell, another voice followed from the side.
"Yes. You said very soon, but in the end you lied to me again, did you not, Mister Sage?"
In a corner, the Goddess of Wisdom looked up from her book.
Minerva Einzbern wore an elegant uniform with a black pleated skirt. Silver hair framed vermilion eyes. The gaze behind her glasses was calm, almost leisurely.
The atmosphere shifted.
Why did this feel like an interrogation.
This time Melusine did not stand beside Rowe either.
She stepped out from the opposite side of Einzbern, raised her eyes, and spoke in a tone far too serious for the situation.
"My Lord. Please confess honestly."
Confess what.
Rowe looked at Einzbern. She knew exactly where he had gone.
She said nothing.
Of course she was doing it on purpose.
She wanted to see Rowe's reaction, and she had deliberately let the news of his outing leak to Nero. Now Nero stood here with a posture meant to intimidate.
Nero also wanted to see it.
Would he feel guilty.
The sparkle in the young Emperor's eyes made that obvious.
Rowe sighed, then stepped forward.
And flicked Nero on the forehead.
"Umu?! Why are you only hitting me?!"
Nero clutched her head and crouched defensively on the throne, protesting with theatrical outrage.
"Because you are the ringleader," Rowe said, chuckling. "If I do not hit you, who will I hit?"
"Umu?!"
Nero tried to protest again, but Rowe shut it down without mercy.
"You are still a bit short if you think you can make me look foolish, Goddess of Wisdom."
"Ah. Indeed, a bit short," Einzbern replied, serene as ever. "But I believe there will be an opportunity."
She closed her book, uncrossed her legs, and stood. The skirt swayed with the motion.
Then she leaned in and kissed Rowe.
A neat, precise gesture.
"Consider that an apology," she murmured.
This was your goal, was it not.
A deliberate mistake, then an apology she could openly display.
Nero was merely a tool.
Nero's eyes widened.
Why did she get to do that when I got hit.
I am not convinced.
I want it too.
"Alright, alright," Rowe said, pulling back after the brief kiss. He lifted a hand in surrender. "I know your rank is higher than hers."
"Ah. Your Majesty Nero is special and very beautiful," Einzbern said, as if giving a fair assessment, "but she does not seem to possess much wisdom."
Damn it.
How dare she call me stupid.
Nero's expression twisted into a simmering fury that looked far too cute to be threatening.
Melusine, meanwhile, had been caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Her eyes lingered for a moment, and her expression shifted in a way that was almost imperceptible.
So last night's commotion was like this.
Rowe turned and extended his hand toward Nero.
"How about it, Your Majesty Nero. Still want to try?"
Nero huffed.
"I will not fall for it twice."
She said that, but she still grabbed his hand and sprang to her feet.
"I will definitely win against you!"
"Then I will look forward to it," Einzbern replied, brimming with confidence. "But do not even think about cheating. I am a very jealous woman."
Nero shivered.
For no clear reason at all, she felt a little scared.
Rowe, however, returned to the actual point.
"It is almost time. I should depart."
"Indeed. Let us go, my Adjutant!" Nero exhaled, planted her feet, and turned with a flourish. Her skirt fanned out. Golden hair shimmered in the reflected sunlight like flame.
She took two steps, then abruptly stopped and looked back.
"Although it is a pity I cannot go with you, Adjutant, no matter what…"
She lifted her chin, forcing herself to sound proud.
"I have prepared a grand opening ceremony for your upcoming performance, Adjutant!"
An opening ceremony.
A mobilization before the expedition.
Rowe was going to war. This had been agreed long ago.
Expansion after diligent governance.
As the Emperor of Rome, Nero had discussed the decision with him. In truth, Nero wanted to go along. But she was the Emperor, and Rome was still in a tense moment of transition. She had to hold the rear, steady the capital, and keep the system from shaking itself apart.
Rowe needed her in Rome to preserve stability.
So even though she disliked it, even though she was reluctant, even though she wanted to cling to him like a spoiled child, she could not.
"I still feel unwilling, umu," Nero muttered, voice cracking with frustration.
"Do not worry," Einzbern said, smiling sweetly. "I will do it for both of us."
Nero frowned.
Is this person addicted to provoking me.
Melusine said nothing. Half of her face was hidden behind her mask, but her lips were slightly pursed, thoughtful.
The four rode out of the city by carriage.
Rome was quiet that morning. Most provincial governors and nobles still slept, unaware that history was already moving without waiting for them.
But outside the city, at the imperial border, an army had gathered.
Banners fluttered across wasteland and hills. Under the grand sunlight, Roman legions stood like iron carved into the earth, waiting.
"Have they come yet, have they come yet, have they come yet? Why are they not here yet?!"
On a hillside, Barghest rode a large black steed, golden hair gleaming. Tall, athletic, and built like a fortress, the fairy looked powerful enough to tear a man in half and complain that it took too long.
Boudica rode beside her, expression helpless.
"Lady Barghest. Please be patient."
"Exactly, exactly. Be patient," Baobhan Sith added, sounding almost tired.
Unlike the others, she was not on horseback. She floated in midair, hands hidden in wide sleeves. Red hair framed a delicate, lovely face, making her seem more like an exquisite princess than a creature that belonged on a battlefield.
"I know His Excellency is busy," Barghest said, then jabbed a finger toward the world beyond the mountain range. "But this is too boring. I can feel enemies out there."
The fairies had contracted with Rowe, and through him with the people of Rome.
Rome's enemies were their enemies.
"They are here," Boudica said suddenly, posture snapping straight.
Barghest lit up.
"Ah, finally!"
Baobhan Sith's eyes brightened as well.
"My Lord has arrived?!"
Rowe had indeed arrived.
The distant carriages, escorted by the palace guard, rolled out from the city. Dust rose in their wake as they approached the border mountain where a hundred thousand Roman soldiers were assembled.
The royal carriage, pulled by massive steeds, shone with expense under the sun. Roman flags snapped in the wind. The golden eagle emblem gleamed with wings spread wide, as if ready to seize the sky.
Boudica spurred her horse down from the hillside.
"Form ranks. Welcome!"
Barghest yanked her reins and bellowed the same command down the line.
"Form ranks. Welcome!"
"Rome!"
Spearmen raised spear shafts high. Javelinmen planted their weapons into the soil, shafts humming softly in the wind. Infantry raised shields and swords, pressing shield faces together until the formation became a single wall.
At that moment, spears were rain, lances were a forest, shields were a fortress.
The ground trembled.
A roar erupted from the soldiers' throats.
They welcomed the arriving Emperor.
And even more, they welcomed their true commander.
The one who would lead them into the world.
"I await your triumphant return."
Those were the words of the Roman Emperor, Nero Claudius, as she reviewed the army.
After the reforms, Rome was new.
Under the measures of Nero Claudius and Rowe, imperial administration became clean and clear. Commerce and agriculture flourished quickly under the restored stability.
That prosperity finally supported a massive campaign.
It began in Rome, extending north to Sweden, Finland, and Norway, south into North Africa, and west toward what would later be called the border of West Asia.
The territory surpassed that of the King of Conquerors, and its scope swept across the continent that was then the center of the world.
Only a millennium later would anyone come close.
The Roman Empire: Conquest After Transformation
"What a vast army," Einzbern murmured.
She rode beside Rowe now, clad in armor, mounted on a white horse. In this attire she looked stern and heroic, a war goddess in human proportions.
"Even at Athens' height, there was never such a host. Not even a tenth of it."
Hills and wilderness rolled beneath the sunlight. Banners rippled like fire across the horizon. Footsteps fell in unison, shaking the world like thunder.
Rowe listened to the Third Magician's words and smiled.
"I almost forgot you were one of the Greek gods of war."
"Not one of them," Einzbern said, slightly proud. Vermilion eyes were full of self assurance. "After Ares disappeared, I became the only god of war."
"Then you should thank me."
"Alright," she said without hesitation. "I will come find you tonight."
Rowe coughed.
"In the military camp, that is not very appropriate."
"What is inappropriate about it?"
Einzbern turned her gaze to him. Red lips parted in a smile that was far too pleased with itself.
"I promised His Majesty that I would do it for her too."
"She will be very grateful to me, right?"
The girl smiled brilliantly.
Nero would probably want to kill you if she heard that.
Of course, only if she could.
"Advance, advance!"
At the front of the army, Barghest was ecstatic. She galloped back and forth among the troops, yelling like a commander born for war.
The soldiers surged with energy, pushed forward by her excitement.
Baobhan Sith poked her head out from behind Barghest and complained.
"So you are using your hound driving ability here?"
"Are you treating soldiers like dogs?"
"What does it matter!" Barghest grinned. "Soldiers should be as vigilant as hounds."
"And Baobhan Sith, can you stop hiding in my shadow?"
"You know I do not like sunlight," Baobhan Sith replied as if stating a law of nature.
"What a lively pair," Boudica murmured on the other side while supervising the march.
She patted her steed's mane. Fiery red hair whipped in the wind.
She watched the army snake out past the Roman border, a line stretching for miles and still not ending.
Spears, lances, Roman swords, and shields advanced through rising dust.
Rowe had once seen the sword of Qin march east in distant lands.
And now he held such a sword himself.
In the era of Human Order, a host of one hundred thousand was enough to sweep a continent, a force even gods would give way to.
Military might.
Conquering east and west.
Here, he would also shift from myth into history.
The name Rowe appeared in many eras, across many texts.
On clay tablets of Mesopotamia tied to the Epic of Gilgamesh, he was counted among the kings who ruled Uruk.
In Greek stories and legends, he was the guide who awakened heroes, the one who led heroes and champions alike.
In Nordic tales, he was the King of the Wild Hunt.
In the second generation of the Lord of Gods, Yahweh, the manifested name and character were also Rowe.
During the era of Solomon, and later Great Qin, the same shadow repeated.
From antiquity to the present, from the west to the north.
The name Rowe appeared again and again.
He was the etymology of wisdom, the beginning of sages.
Was it the same person.
Or a lineage named after one name.
Countless scholars questioned whether he had ever truly existed. Some argued that it was merely cultural transmission, derivation layered over centuries.
But whether he existed or not, whether every Rowe was the same Rowe, his shadow was embedded in human history.
Reforms that moved nations.
Light that pierced ignorance.
Wars that redrew borders.
Disasters that were guided into evolution rather than extinction.
If such a person truly existed, then he had walked the long years of humanity, witnessing the rise and spread of civilization.
And now he would move from myth into history.
Because what he represented might be history's change itself.
The Origin of Humanity: The Existent and Nonexistent Man
"Moving toward history…"
In Rome, bells swayed high on towering spires.
A silver haired half nightmare fairy sat on a hanging bell, swinging legs wrapped in black silk. Crimson eyes gazed into the distance.
As the fairy of eyes, entrusted with the Fairy Eyes, she possessed the ability to perceive reality across distance. Otherwise, Rowe would not have entrusted her with such responsibility.
For Merlin, this was familiar.
The youthful nightmare had observed the present world from Avalon for a very long time. Watching from the outside was a habit older than any human dynasty.
So she watched the expedition from the border with ease.
She saw Rome's sword and shield sweeping outward.
Merlin's lips curved.
The real show had only just begun.
"This is very interesting, is it not?" Merlin said lightly. "Miss Brisisan. Disciple of Solomon."
Behind her stood a young woman, delicate, long black hair falling down her back, dressed in a white robe reminiscent of ancient Israel.
Her dark pupils gleamed with faint light.
"Ah," the woman said softly, "I also did not expect to meet Lord Rowe in this way after so many years."
"Teacher, I presume, would also be very pleased."
"That the Lord is still among humans."
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