Editor 112

The large bathhouse in the basement of the lodging building, located at the base of the castle, was connected to a hot spring.

The children, freshly washed in the steaming water, gathered in the lounge connected to the dining room on the first floor of the lodging.

The furniture in the lounge was all carved from rough, raw wood, but with the fireplace blazing, the atmosphere was cozy.

Chel, dressed in a clean shirt and pants, sniffed alternately at both shoulders and asked,

“Do I still smell?”

“You’re as clean as freshly laundered sheets, so stop sniffing.”

“No, I feel icky. I should have brought perfume. This isn’t proper etiquette toward ladies.”

“Don’t worry, Chel. The Duchess of Tristain passed away twenty years ago, and the Duke never married. There aren’t any ladies in this castle.”

“What are you talking about, Lifi? The lady who bakes us bread in the morning, the lady who draws our bathwater, there are ladies at the hearth too.”

Now wasn’t the time to hear Chel’s humanitarian theories. Arthur, looking awkward, tried to focus the children’s attention.

“Guys, enough chatter. So, do we all agree to hand over the onyx magic stone here to the Tristain Order?”

“I already answered. Give it to them.”

“I’m curious what the vice-captain’s face will look like when we hand that over. Right, Leticia!”

“Yeah, super curious.”

“Honestly, it was funny earlier too, but it didn’t seem right to laugh in a serious situation.”

“I felt that too. Heehee.”

Chel and the twins, having stopped caring about the magic stone, chatted among themselves. Arthur looked to Isiel for help.

“Arthur, it’s also in the rules that items acquired during field exercises are to be entrusted to the supervisor.”

Unlike the children who, having trained from an early age, were quick and disciplined even at bathing and getting ready, Cleio, who was slow at washing and dressing, entered the lounge late. The days of being quick in the army were long gone—when had that even been?

“Of course, the field exercise acquisition rules probably didn’t anticipate a magic stone onyx this size.”

“You’re here, Ray?”

The onyx magic stone left by the monster Python was almost the size of a child’s fist. According to the “Magic Stone Index,” onyx was an extremely rare stone, with the only known example being the one set in Captain Pierce Klagen’s sword.

“Let me see.”

“Here.”

Cleio carefully examined the gem resting in Arthur’s rough palm.

‘Looks pretty valuable, but this wasn’t mentioned in the previous manuscript either. Hm.’

The manuscript that “Jeongjin” read focused mainly on Isiel and Arthur, and since neither had much interest in wealth, this mishap had occurred.

Only “Promise” reliably provided a kind explanation.

[“Onyx of Tranquility
:Brings stability to the body and mind.”]

‘Did Pierce get the onyx by chance? Or did the king grant it to calm his temperament? Even if it’s the latter, it doesn’t seem to have helped much.’

Even after considering it, no particular use came to mind. As Cleio fell into thought, Arthur asked for his opinion, as if expecting an alternative.

“So, what should we do?”

“What do you mean? Follow the rules. Your choice is the right one.”

“I feel reassured when you say that.”

Arthur beamed as if he’d gained the world, even though Cleio hadn’t said much.

Cleio sometimes couldn’t understand the protagonist’s actions, but he let it go, thinking who could fully grasp the emotions of a teenager.

“What’s with him.”

It was Arthur who first suggested handing the onyx over to the Order.

Though resources were abundant, if monsters rampaged in such a remote, harsh area, whether used directly or sold for funds, the magic stone would be a huge help.

“With Ray agreeing too, it’s unanimous. Let’s go give it to the vice-captain.”

“Arthur, it’s not like we’re handing over a bribe, so maybe don’t put it that way….”

.

.

.

A few minutes later.

Vice-captain Rotan, suddenly confronted with the onyx, had eyes as wide as lanterns.

Arthur waited patiently for Rotan, who, contrary to his tough appearance, seemed rather timid and meticulous, to process the situation.

The standoff, or non-standoff, between the two ended when the lion-maned knight who had followed Rotan in spoke up.

“Hurry up and take it, vice-captain. You should be thanking them, not standing there stiff as a board!”

“Laisa!”

“If you won’t take it, I’ll just hold onto it. A magic stone like this might help the Duke’s illness. Wasn’t it five years ago we heard such a thing existed, and searched everywhere but couldn’t find one?”

The lion-maned knight, who had snatched the onyx, was the same one who’d run with the apprentice mage earlier.

He was tall and burly, with a fearsome scar on his jaw as if it had been torn and reattached, making him hard to read at a glance, but his strong features were attractive.

Chel, quicker than anyone, noticed this. With a dazzling smile, Chel pushed Arthur aside and stepped forward.

“Please use it as you see fit. It’s a token of our goodwill.”

“Thank you for both taking down a major monster and donating such an incredible trophy. We’ll make good use of it. So, what’s your name, student?”

“Please call me Chel.”

Chel extended a handshake to Laisa.

The knight, grinning like a child, gripped Chel’s hand tightly. He was so strong, Chel’s knuckles turned white.

“As you’ve heard, I’m Laisa. Sorry for the late introduction. Welcome to Tristain Castle.”

“I’m Lifi. This is Leticia.”

“You can call me Arthur.”

“…Cleio.”

As introductions wrapped up, three more knights, a step behind Laisa, poured noisily into the lounge.

They were all injured, with slings on their arms or shoulders, or leaning on canes.

Without their armor, it was hard to believe these were the same disciplined figures as before, the mood now much more relaxed.

“Wow, after a bath, you all look so refreshed! I saw you fighting earlier. That was amazing!”

“Those aren’t just pampered noble kids from the capital. They’re better than the trainee knights.”

The knights surrounding the children each praised the boys and girls with genuine admiration.

At least, it seemed none were twisted enough to envy the students. There was only immense curiosity.

Cleio quietly observed the knights as the children were praised.

‘It’s just the vice-captain’s personal tendency to be cold to these kids. The regular knights aren’t like that. That’s a good sign.’

“And I never knew such miraculous magic existed.”

“Trude, what magic did you see to be singing about it since earlier?”

Since Cleio had made a magic arrow for a preemptive strike early in the fight, it seemed only the short knight called Trude had witnessed it.

Cleio was secretly relieved he hadn’t used more magic, allowing Arthur and the kids to handle the monster.

‘Let them be impressed with the prince, Chel, and Isiel! These kids just tore out the heart of a level 5 monster at eighteen!’

Unaware he was thinking like an overly enthusiastic parent, Cleio grumbled to himself.

“With magic! Swoosh! An arrow just appeared and nailed that huge monster. Geez, you lot never believe me. So, which one of you is the mage?”

“That would be me. My name is Cleio.”

As Cleio stepped forward, he could clearly see the knights’ eyes, filled with expectation, turn to doubt and disappointment. Except for Trude, they were all big as mountain bandits and wore their hearts on their sleeves.

“That scrawny kid is the one who used that so-called amazing magic?”

“Trude, are you sure you didn’t see it wrong?”

“I saw the magic, not who cast it….”

Laisa, after giving the knights a smack on the back of the head each, bent down to meet Cleio’s eyes, as she was shorter than Cleio.

“I’m more amazed that these kids’ wounds are all healed than whatever arrow magic that was. Cleio, after you recover your ether, could you take a look at my sprained leg? It was almost better, but after running hard earlier it’s hurting again.”

“The apprentice mage is having trouble, right?”

“The apprentice loves researching monsters and wild animals, but his ether level is lacking, and he’s hopeless at healing. Besides him, there’s only one official mage at the castle, but they’re out with the monster search party. Since you never know when a serious injury will happen, we send the lightly injured back to the castle.”

“I understand. Please come in the morning or evening, whichever is more convenient.”

Cleio, whose ether vessel had expanded, had enough ether left to treat one or two people even now, but he didn’t want to overdo it and gave a generous estimate.

Of course, that was enough to impress Laisa.

“Wow, to recover in a day after casting such powerful magic. Is it youth? But why only morning and evening?”

“Well…”

While Cleio was carefully wording a diplomatic answer to avoid saying “because your vice-captain keeps making us do pointless chores,” quick-witted Laisa figured it out first.

Hands on hips, Laisa spun around and loudly called out to Rotan, who was awkwardly staring at the onyx.

“Vice-captain, now that the moat’s dug, there’s nothing left to shovel, right? Stop giving the kids a hard time. They’re so skilled with ether, it’s a waste to channel it into shovels.”

For a moment, Rotan blinked as if trying to process what he’d just heard, then mumbled in protest.

“No, you…! You know the situation and still, like the regular knights…! Don’t you know how we’re treated by the capital?”

“Hey, I was worried too when I heard some snobby noble kids were coming, wondering if we’d have to wait on them. But they shoveled well and even took down a monster.”

“Vice-captain, did you just get worked up over complicated thoughts again?”

“That’s why your gastritis never gets better. You haven’t slept properly since the first monster showed up, have you?”

“Do you think I’m doing this for myself? It’s all for our Order and His Grace the Duke…!”

“I know, I know.”

“Staying up all night crunching the numbers.”

“This castle only got this bright and warm after you took charge of the accounts. I know.”

“I’m from here too, vice-captain. I know how harsh and dangerous every winter is. The capital just takes what it wants, not knowing our struggles. You know how frustrating that is.”

“Enough. This isn’t something to discuss in front of others!”

Cleio tried to keep a straight face as he glanced sideways at the vice-captain.

‘We’ve already heard everything.’

Though called vice-captain, Rotan seemed to be at the level of the castle’s treasurer. As his subordinates’ confessions and praise swung between boiling and freezing, Rotan’s face flushed, turning red as if boiled from his ears to his neck.

The children all averted their eyes, pretending not to see the vice-captain’s state.

“See, vice-captain. With wild animals and landslides to deal with, now even monsters rampaging, we should be grateful the Capital Defense School kids came. It’s luck, not trouble.”

Cleio could easily guess what “our worries” were.

The Tristain knights must have thought Arthur and his friends were pampered noble and royal children from the capital.

“With the Order stationed at this ducal seat, newspapers don’t even arrive daily in winter, sometimes a week’s worth at once. There’s no way these people know the political situation in the south.”

“Central nobles,” who dominate the military and politics, referred to the king’s faction of new nobles led by Duke Cruel, and the old nobles led by Duke Saville who founded the House of Lords.

In fact, the Viscounts Angelium and Kishion, unlike those “central nobles” they criticize, were far from that.

Like the Tristain ducal family, they were in a marginalized position, something these people didn’t understand.

Viscount Angelium was sixth generation, Viscount Kishion just fourth—both were new nobles.

Their ancestors were commoner knights who supported Absalom II’s return to the throne, received frontier lands, and became nobles as defenders of the kingdom.

Even among new nobles, their position differed from the Cruel family, who gained a dukedom as a result of political agreements between Brünnen and Albion.

‘Rotan still calls the Tristain Duke by his formal title. He’s rejecting the post-restoration name.’

Theo Tristain, 22nd Duke of Armorique. Father of Taetherton Tristain, and the one who revived the barren estate. The degree of personal loyalty he inspired was evident.

‘Originally, in Albion, family names and territory names were different for old nobles, but after the restoration, under Absalom II from Brünnen, they just attached the title to the family name, right?’

The Marquess Sergef and Duke Tristain both lost influence in central politics after opposing Duke Saville’s puppet king and closing their houses.

However, among the three dukes who sign the oath to determine the king’s heir, only the Duke of Tristain has remained the head of a family that traces its line back to Leonid I.

‘The Duchess of Nineveh is just another name for the queen, so exclude her. The other two ducal lines died out. Saville and Cruel filled those seats. With such terrifying legitimacy, and the duke being a close aide to the crown prince, if it’s so hard for them to save themselves, you’d think they’d ask for more understanding.’

There was a line in the previous manuscript about how doing things for a reward isn’t loyalty. It was Taetherton’s.

‘Then again, if they had a politically savvy bloodline, would their ancestors still be up north catching beasts just because of a bit of ancestral scandal?’