Editor 108

Tristain Knight Order (1)

Clayeo just blinked. He was so shocked it felt like the alcohol he’d drunk was churning all the way up his esophagus.

“But the moment he broke the [Oath], a small void appeared within him. Do you believe in something like innate nature, Asser student? I don’t. I’ve seen that a person, as the sum of memory and experience, collapses when they lose their memories.”

“So you’re saying that purely because he lost his memories, Pierce Klagen became a petty man who changes his words for his own gain, a wretched embodiment of selfish desire?”

“That’s right. To those who once knew him as the former vice-captain of the Capital Defense Knights, it’s unimaginable. What he lost in his memories must have been things like love or justice. When he lost that, he showed just how far a person can fall.”

Clayeo, after refilling Mietz’s glass one last time, put down the empty bottle.

Before they knew it, the snow in the bucket had melted into lukewarm water.

A substance changes its form depending on temperature.

Just so, a person’s heart can transform into something entirely different than before.

“That’s why the [Oath] is a terrifying prohibition. If Pierce’s memories could be restored, maybe a little of his lost honor and justice could be recovered… But even after a lifetime of searching, I still don’t know how.”

Clayeo quickly turned things over in his mind.

Mietz’s story and his wandering clearly seemed connected.

‘If the prohibition of the [Oath] could be lifted, maybe Pierce wouldn’t side with Aslan, right?’

At that moment, like getting the right answer in a quiz game, the light of ‘Promise’ flashed and flickered before Clayeo’s eyes.

[―The user’s narrative intervention level is rising.

Cumulative percentage: 34%]

‘What the—this is for real?!’

For the first time in a while, Clayeo felt some hostility toward the author. He couldn’t help but think, They really make you do everything, huh.

‘Can’t you just wrap up the minor plot points yourself! What are you going to do if I slack off! Seriously!’

---

The next morning.

“Wake up!”

“Wake up, Ray!”

Clayeo was on the verge of tears as the twins opened the window and ripped off the blankets.

“Ah, guys, please lower your voices. My head hurts so much….”

Clutching his pillow and mumbling, Clayeo curled up like a caterpillar. The twins mercilessly dragged him out of bed and pulled him in front of a basin of water.

“Yuck, you reek of booze. You told us to drink slowly, but you drank like a fish yourself!”

“Idiot!”

Even though their hands were small, the twins smacked his back with fierce energy, and Clayeo woke up.

“Stop. Spare me….”

.

.

.

After finally washing up and dressing, Clayeo went downstairs. He was up, but his face was as pale as the snow outside reflecting the sun.

He was suffering a terrible hangover for the first time since coming to this world. His head pounded as if his heart was beating inside his skull, and his stomach churned.

‘In the end, I stayed up all night with Mietz and finished off all the vodka. Damn it.’

He’d gotten a lot of useful information, but the price was enormous. It was a binge that even a teenager’s liver couldn’t handle.

Arthur, who’d given up much earlier than Clayeo, didn’t look great either. Only Chel, who’d blacked out the earliest, was full of energy, eating breakfast with the twins.

The twins were adorably piling crepes on their plates, topping them with sour cream, dill, and smoked salmon, but just watching them made Clayeo’s stomach churn, so he looked away from the kids.

Isiel, looking at Arthur and Clayeo in disappointment, silently drizzled honey on her porridge.

On the table, there were also ricotta pancakes fried crisp, rye bread spread with honey and goat cheese, and plenty of boiled eggs.

It was a breakfast that looked and smelled delicious, but not the kind of food you could stomach the morning after drinking that much.

Unable to even drink tea, Clayeo just nursed a cup of hot water, looking utterly spaced out.

Swish.

Mietz boldly pulled aside the kitchen curtain and approached the table, holding a bowl in each hand.

“Hey—Asser student, I thought you held out well yesterday, but you’re a mess, huh?”

“Teacher Mietz… you look in good shape.”

“This is nothing for me. But Arthur, you couldn’t even handle that much. Don’t talk about drinking again. You’re cut off.”

“Come on, you and Ray are just monsters. No human could drink like that….”

Arthur grumbled, pointing at the empty vodka bottles lined up on the pub’s bar table.

“What are you whining about, kid.”

Mietz set the bowls down with a bang in front of Clayeo and himself. The contents sloshed in the bowl, giving off a rich, familiar aroma.

“Asser student, try this. It’ll settle your stomach.”

“What the! Teacher, why are you favoring Ray, who you only met yesterday?”

“This student kept his composure and shared drinks with me until dawn, so he’s my bosom friend, a man among men. You passed out early, so I had to drag you to bed. Disqualified!”

As the two bickered, Clayeo’s trembling hands managed to grip a spoon, and he took a sip of the clear broth Mietz had brought.

‘…This is!!!’

Again, a flavor that made his eyes snap open.

‘It’s like seolleongtang!!!’

Watching Clayeo gulp down the soup, Mietz scratched his beard.

“Does it suit your taste?”

“Yes, it’s very good. Thank you for looking after me.”

“This is made by roasting beef bones and brisket for a whole day, seasoning with salt and pepper, and sprinkling thinly sliced leeks on top. It’s perfect for a hangover.”

‘So it really is seolleongtang.’

Clayeo felt like he was starting to love the Tristain territory.

‘When I get back to the capital, I’ll definitely hire a chef from Tristain.’

The warm meat broth settled his stomach a bit. The flavor was different from real seolleongtang because of all the herbs, but he was grateful just to have something like this.

.

.

.

After breakfast, the party left the inn together.

Without a word, Clayeo also paid Mietz’s bar tab, which had gone well over one Aurum.

The pub owner, who’d made a fortune off them, looked ready to see them off in his socks.

In the small square under the clock tower, horses and carriages loaded with luggage were gathered. There were even a few rough-looking mercenaries, likely just in from the port.

The party got in a carriage together. It turned out the carriage Mietz had arranged was the same as the one Arthur had found.

“It’s cold now, but it’ll be twice as cold up at the duke’s manor. I’m not worried about the others since they’re knights, but you’re a mage—are you dressed warmly enough?”

All the kids were bundled in thick fur, but only Clayeo wore a thin autumn coat, which seemed to bother Mietz.

“Should I get you a fur coat later? The duke’s manor is deep in the mountains. A kid like you could freeze to death in no time.”

“Thank you for your concern, but this is warm enough.”

Clayeo wrapped his rabbit-fur muffler tighter. He wore the sturdy winter boots Dione had given him, and fur-lined gloves as well.

Magical tools were truly wonderful.

Everywhere the coat covered was toasty and warm, making him drowsy.

Liffie and Leticia piped up.

“This cape coat is a magical tool! It looks thin but it’s really warm. I tried it on before!”

“It’s light too. Fur coats are so heavy, if Ray wore one his shoulders would sag.”

“What, they make magical tools as clothes now? I haven’t been to the capital in so long, I’m out of touch with the trends.”

“Trends? This is the only temperature-regulating garment in the whole country.”

“Ray got it as a reward after clearing a dungeon. The Queen’s Garden he went to the other day.”

“I’d heard rumors about the Gate of Mnemosyne, but… not only sword kids went in, but this frail friend too? That’s so dangerous!”

No matter what they said about him right to his face, Clayeo, half-dead from his hangover, didn’t care and just leaned his head against the backrest.

“I understand your concern, teacher. But Clayeo Asser here is an outstanding mage. Without him, neither I nor Arthur nor Chel could have broken through the Memory Space.”

“Is that so, Isiel.”

“Even more than that.”

“Huh, well. It’s the first time I’ve seen Isiel praise someone like this since Arthur.”

“Ray’s just that amazing! Great mage, so could you cast [Relief] magic on me, please?”

Arthur, also groaning from his hangover, seized the chance and clung to Clayeo.

‘Ah, this guy.’

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you think?”

A mage’s magic can’t be applied inside their own body. They drank together, so it wouldn’t be fair if only Arthur was freed from his hangover.

Knights could inject Aether into simple magic formulas, but for it to work on people, they’d have to keep at it for three days straight. Clayeo had little hope of shaking off his hangover any time soon.

“Come on, just this once. It’s so cold here, and it’s been so long since I drank Three Lakes that even my old wounds ache.”

Clayeo flinched without realizing it.

“Really?”

“I never understood old soldiers who say their bones ache in bad weather, but now I get it.”

“Good grief, you’re barely eighteen and you’re bragging already!”

Mietz put Arthur in a headlock with his elbow. Arthur struggled and shouted.

“Don’t do that, teacher. We still have a long way to the manor. If I puke on the floor of this carriage, everyone will be miserable.”

Mietz clicked his tongue and let Arthur go.

Arthur was the type who rarely complained, so Clayeo felt a bit worried.

With a deep sigh, Clayeo ended up holding his aching head and opening his circle.

The kids who were used to his circle didn’t react at all.

“What, you’re going to cast magic on Arthur?”

“He brought it on himself, why help him?”

“Clayeo, you don’t look well either. It’s not a fatal illness, so don’t overdo it. Arthur should learn to control his drinking.”

“Don’t do it. If you do, he’ll just do this again next time.”

Arthur, pretending to cry, scooted closer to Clayeo.

“Aw, everyone’s so mean. Ray, since you’ve already opened your circle, don’t waste it. Save me from hangover hell!”

“If you open your mouth, I lose all motivation, so just keep it shut.”

Fwoosh―

The [Relief] magic formula rose from the floor of the carriage, swirling around Arthur in brilliant Aether like a thousand golden candelabra.

“[Let me dance forevermore

Let me, drunken full, endure

That I may bear off intoxication

To praise sobriety, a jewel in truth

Which I so dearly love]1)”

He’d turned over the “Scroll of Memory” hundreds and thousands of times to excavate incantations, but never imagined he’d end up quoting a poem like “A Drunken Man’s Praise of Sobriety.”

“Wow, amazing. How do you come up with such good incantations? I feel like my hangover is burning away. Thanks so much, Ray!”

“There’s probably no one else on the whole Dernier continent who gets a hangover cure this fancy. Jeez.”

The kids, now excited among themselves, ignored Mietz.

Turning his face to the window, Mietz’s expression was completely serious. As the carriage ran through the shade of the trees, he stared at Clayeo’s reflection in the dark glass.

Even after seeing with his own eyes the brilliant magic formula bloom from those winter-branch-like fingers, it was hard to believe.

‘Is that what they call a genius.’

He too had once been a knight. He knew magic and mages. But the magic used by that pale boy was on a different level than anything he’d ever known.

The circle he drew in the swaying carriage, while suffering from a hangover, was dazzlingly bright, and the magic formula he cast offhand, while chatting, didn’t have a single line out of place.

‘The accuracy of a magic formula follows exactly the clarity of the caster’s memories. This kid has memory abilities like Zebedi.’

The second son of the Asser family, who’d appeared out of nowhere to join Arthur, possessed not only a composure but a judgment far beyond his years.

Mietz was easily convinced.

This young mage would be a fearsome variable in Arthur’s life.

1) “A Drunken Man’s Praise of Sobriety”, W. B. Yeats.