Type-Moon: Does even a sneak peek make it official?

"The Divine Envoy has resolved the situation in Alexandria. He deserves to be rewarded."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Thus, Novia's daily routine outside Rome was more or less set.

Before dawn, he would gaze out the window toward the distant trees. After noon, he would stroll the surroundings, quietly spreading his doctrine. Before sunset cloaked everything in its golden veil, he'd return here. And at night, when no one was around, he'd train—swinging his sword at the falling leaves to keep his arm from growing sluggish.

As for why Emperor Claudius's attitude toward him had changed so drastically, Novia could guess well enough. It was likely that during his absence, the current Empress Messalina had whispered a few things into the ear of the fifty-year-old emperor by the bedside.

Even so, Claudius had kept his promise to grant Christianity a degree of leniency within the empire, so Novia didn't particularly mind. After all, progress had to be made step by step. When time permitted, he planned to return to the Province of Anatolia and see if he could persuade Paul and the others to embrace his particular interpretation of the faith—and lend him a hand.

The Roman Empire's territory was simply too vast. Novia alone could never hope to spread Christianity across its entirety before Claudius's death.

And by Novia's estimation, Claudius's death in 54 AD was more or less a fixed event. That left him with less than six years. In those six years, he needed to engineer a "reasonable" purge of the Judean temple authorities, then wait for Lucius to exhume the corpse of the Dragon of Albion and refine it through alchemy…

Each of these would take considerable time.

And once Claudius died, it would be the rise of that infamous figure, celebrated in both history and Type-Moon lore—the beloved "tyrant" of the people, Nero.

When that time came, Novia couldn't guarantee things would continue to go this smoothly. But then again, had it not been for the assistance of Nero's mother, Agrippina, Nero's rise to the throne likely wouldn't have gone so smoothly either. But who could say? After all, certain "inevitabilities" in the Type-Moon timeline were impossible to rewrite. If Novia tried to tamper with this period of history, it was anyone's guess what ripple effects might occur.

For now, just like Novia, Agrippina—the mother of Nero and a key member of the imperial family—was being subtly suppressed.

Empress Messalina, in order to secure the throne for her own son's future, was fiercely suppressing any potential claimants from the imperial bloodline. She even had Claudius execute his own secretary. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that, under Claudius's indulgence, Messalina practically held absolute power.

Yet, Novia remained entirely unconcerned. After all, he knew what was coming. All he had to do was wait.

"Lord Novia."

Hearing the voice, Novia looked up, his eyes falling upon the figure of the fifty-year-old emperor, Claudius, limping down the corridor that had no windows leading outside.

"Your Majesty."

Perhaps out of apprehension toward a "divine envoy," Claudius would seek Novia out every few days for conversation. Though Novia was tempted to convert this old fox to Christianity outright, Claudius always sidestepped the topic with practiced skill.

Novia had also considered using that single drop of water from the Atlas Institute to cure Claudius's ailments. But upon further thought, it wasn't worth it. So, he had passed it to Lucius instead.

After all, Novia had promised Lucius he would cure the gnawing pain from his injury. And Lucius had followed him loyally for a year without asking questions. Sentiment and reason alike dictated that he should be taken care of first.

At present, Novia was preparing to seize control of the Praetorian Guard stationed in Rome, to pave the way for Christianity to sweep across Europe with himself at the helm. In addition, he needed to select someone to oversee Rome's political affairs on behalf of the emperor… and Novia had long since decided on the candidate. All that remained was the right timing.

"No need for formalities. It's my fault for making the Divine Envoy live outside the city."

"Your Majesty, it is a necessary formality—and one permitted by the Lord."

Novia maintained his usual gentle smile, though he clicked his tongue inwardly. Claudius, you can spout your polite nonsense all you like, but you really think I buy it?

"Haha, well, that can't be helped." Claudius chuckled as he opened the large, ancient tome Novia had placed on the table. It appeared to contain extensive records of religious philosophy. After flipping through a few pages, he paused. "Every time I visit, I see you reading these religious texts, Novia."

"For us, they are essential. Speaking of which, may I ask Your Majesty's forgiveness for something?"

"Oh? What is it?"

"The rain from a few days ago caused the nearby river to flood. The bridge to the port has become impassable…"

"The city's grain reserves are more than sufficient to last the winter. Surely you alone have no issues?"

Claudius furrowed his brow, puzzled. Novia offered an apologetic smile.

"It's not about the grain. Travelers, unable to cross the bridge, sought my help. I allowed them to stay here until the rain passes. I couldn't bear to see lost souls without shelter. But this place was granted to me by Your Majesty alone…"

"You don't need my permission for that!" Claudius shot to his feet and righteously patted Novia's shoulder. "You did well. In my empire, everyone should support such actions."

"Your Majesty's approval is my greatest honor."

The reason Novia performed such acts, and carefully relayed them to Claudius, was simple: to subtly implant in Claudius's subconscious the notion that Christianity's actions were rational and virtuous. That way, when Christians provided shelter to the homeless or cared for the sick regardless of status or belief, it would all seem entirely natural.

"Your Majesty."

A voice called from outside the room—it was one of the officials responsible for Claudius's security and travel.

"What is it?"

"It's urgent. I must report to His Majesty in person."

"Come in."

Novia had intended to excuse himself, but Claudius wordlessly shook his head, signaling him to stay.

Soon, the officer entered and, without hesitation, whispered in the emperor's ear.

"…Your Majesty, you must decide swiftly."

As Claudius listened to the report, a flicker of rage flashed across his eyes. Sensing this sudden shift, Novia had a vague idea of what was coming.

"Everyone, with me! We return to Rome immediately!"

From morning, the sky had been a dull gray, dark clouds mingling with faint rays of sun. Now, with the sun leaning westward, rain hammered the earth, thunder roared, and even the window frames rattled from the storm.

This was the palace scandal Novia had been waiting for—

Empress Messalina's wedding… with her lover.