Editor 118

Against the Darkness (5)

“If I have to explain, I’m trying to reduce the scale of that fire. Because the inevitable blaze will burn throughout Albion.”

‘Well, that’s not wrong either. War is a disaster of fire, and paper burns easily.’

This world was literally a kingdom built on paper.

Cleio was in a position where he had to defend himself so that an unexpected turn of events would not burn up the fragile manuscript like a careless spark.

Whether he understood his words or not, Mietz, who was stroking his beard, whispered quietly.

“Is that why you’re enduring this uncomfortable position?”

Mietz judged that Cleio also stayed at the banquet hall for the same purpose as himself: to figure out the purpose behind Melchior’s sudden visit to the north.

As the middle-aged man and the boy exchanged meaningful glances, a small window leading to the training ground opened, and a hand suddenly reached in. The scarred hand suddenly grabbed Cleio’s collar.

Recognizing whose hand it was, Mietz didn’t show any mercy and pinched the cold, chapped back of the hand hard.

“Ahhh, Master, are you crazy?”

The voice was lowered as much as possible, but there was no problem recognizing it as Arthur.

“Why, why do you startle people and stick your hand in a place like this?”

“Well, you see, Ray… Can’t you give me just one drink too?”

“Alcohol on night watch, are you serious?”

“What’s wrong with just one drink?”

“Isn’t one drink still alcohol? If you get drunk and drop your sword or lose it, don’t even dream of not having to pay compensation.”

“Ugh, you’re so cold. I’m keeping my sword tightly strapped on.”

The window was narrow and it was darker outside than inside, so Arthur’s face couldn’t be seen, but when Arthur tapped his foot, a heavy sound resonated from his sword. It was the unique resonance that came from Beg’s sword rubbing inside Vasco’s special leather scabbard.

Just as Cleio was about to speak, the sound of dozens of glasses clinking together overlapped the resonance of the sword. It was the sound of glasses breaking under the rough toasts and the knights’ unrestrained strength.

Amidst the flying alcohol and shards of glass, Melchior mingled without a hint of displeasure, expressing his thanks in a casual manner.

“Thank you for the hospitality. This is the happiest birthday I’ve ever had.”

“It was your birthday?!”

“Oh my! I must refill the last glass!”

“Cheers!”

“To the health of His Highness the Crown Prince!”

“Glory! Victory!”

“Wow!”

Even amidst the commotion, Melchior’s voice sounded as if it had some sort of noise cancellation, so Cleio’s attention naturally focused on him, even with “Perception” turned off.

Arthur, who had pushed his face into the window, grumbled.

“Hey, hey, what are you looking at?”

“They’re making a fuss because it’s your brother’s birthday today.”

“That’s all?”

“And they’re just toasting over and over. What’s so great about spending your birthday like this?”

“Hmph, nope. My brother’s birthday is on February 29th. There’s no birthday this year. They’re just doing it to lift the mood among the members.”

Taking in Arthur’s words, Cleio did some hasty mental calculations with his slow brain. Leap years were multiples of four, and since this year was 1891, the crown prince’s age didn’t add up.

‘He’s a year short…?’

“Then shouldn’t your brother be twenty-seven this year, not twenty-eight?”

“I don’t really know, but I heard that the late Lady Elene always thought of her child, Melchior, as a year younger.”

“So do they really celebrate the crown prince’s birthday only once every four years?”

“That’s what I heard. Anyway, you were so zoned out that I thought you were using some kind of skill again.”

Cleio answered while still facing Melchior.

“In this situation, not looking at him would seem stranger.”

“True. When did everyone here become such crown prince fans anyway?”

Surrounded by people, Melchior began to slowly make his way around every corner of the banquet hall. It looked like he was making sure not a single knight felt left out, making his rounds.

‘As expected. Once the Duke of Tristain is gone, he’ll make them his own knights.’

As Cleio regretfully shook his now-empty glass, a tall shadow fell over his head.

Mietz, sensing danger like a wild beast, cautiously closed the window. It was almost an animalistic movement.

Arthur, who was about to protest, had no choice but to step away from the window and retreat into the darkness at Mietz’s stern demeanor.

A few seconds later, Melchior, having left the crowd, approached them.

Cleio was inwardly impressed.

‘This is no joke. Did he predict Melchior would come this way?’

Cleio also immediately activated “Separation.” The smell of alcohol surged from his stomach, making him a little dizzy.

‘Ugh, why now, of all times.’

With so many eyes watching, neither Cleio nor Mietz could leave the banquet hall.

.

.

.

Up close, Melchior looked paler than usual.

With the blood drained from his face, he looked even less human, giving off a chilling impression.

The crimson area in the middle of his iris expanded and contracted without focus, leaving only the teal color at the edges, making his eyes appear even more inhuman.

‘Why does he seem so on edge today…?’

Mietz shielded Cleio, who was weaker than himself, pushing him slightly behind his back.

Seeing the burly man blocking his path, Melchior paused and, unusually, showed a surprised expression.

At the same time, “Insight Structure Time” activated.

‘!!!’

Unconsciously pressing himself against the wall, Cleio cranked “Separation” up to the maximum.

Instead of the expected shock, cold sweat beaded on Melchior’s forehead.

The crown prince’s ivory-white teeth made a grinding sound. His brow, as pale as someone gravely wounded, was deeply contorted as if enduring pain.

‘What is going on?’

What kind of pain could defeat the crown prince, a master of hiding his emotions?

As if answering Cleio’s question, “Promise” responded.

“Unique Skill: ‘Insight Structure Time’

―Exceeded the limit on unique skill usage, restriction ∞”i”?? ≤□occurr…

―Repeatedly exceeding the usage limit causes ≒●∬ the penalty to increase ∝□∠….”

The message was garbled, but Cleio could roughly understand what was wrong with Melchior’s skill.

Cleio quickly grasped the situation.

The target of “Insight Structure Time” just now had not been Cleio.

As the skill spread, Mietz’s large body trembled. Even a swordmaster, who wouldn’t bat an eye at most things.

“Unique Skill: ‘Insight Structure Time’
User: Melchior Riognan”

“Unique Skill: ‘Veil of Concealment’
User: Michislav Dabrowski”

“―Skill collision. Two conflicting skills are colliding.
―Urgent [Mitigation] required.
―Urgent [Mitigation]↔”∂≠… required∴∋∪…”

“Veil of Concealment” and “Insight Structure Time” collided violently.

The shockwave reached even Cleio. He barely managed to hold onto the wall to keep from collapsing.

Beeeeep―

The same ringing in his ears as when he first encountered the crown prince reverberated in Cleio’s head.

Surrounded by so many people, and yet, the whole world fell silent.

For a moment, it felt as if time had stopped.

Soldiers still smiling with their glasses raised.

Gas lamps with their flickering gone.

Stillness.

The pain of a being entangled in the world opened gaps in the lines between. The faint, bloody scent from somewhere stimulated Cleio’s sense of smell.

The crown prince, who forced down the blood that had risen, barely managed to compose himself.

The desperate air faded, replaced by the composure of someone always in control.

“Astonishing. To think I’d see you here, Sir Michislav.”

Melchior’s words were a judgment.

A certainty impossible to deny.

The man called Mietz—no, Sir Michislav—suppressed a terrible murderous intent. If not for “Separation,” Cleio would not have been able to remain here.

“Please do not call me by a title I never possessed, Your Highness.”

“So, since you never made the [Oath], you are not a knight, but this? The unfortunate legacy left by the Rose Rebellion. Losing you was the nation’s loss.”

“How can you speak as if you know so well what you never experienced? At that time, Your Highness was an infant. You cannot possibly remember any of it.”

“That’s not true, Sir Michislav. I remember. Just as I remember everything I witnessed since I was born.”

Even though Cleio didn’t use ‘Suitability Judgment,’ he somehow felt the crown prince was telling the truth.

He had the same expression as when he spoke of flowers. A rare expression, not a smile.

For that man, laughter and gentleness were masks.

As tension rose between Melchior and Michislav, the crown prince was the first to soften his tone.

“…And you seem to be someone who believes in the importance of memory as much as I do.”

If he could, Cleio would have melted into the wall. The tension made his stomach twist in knots.

‘He read it. He really read it. Properly.’

Melchior had uncovered Mietz’s true identity, his name, his past, and even the true nature of the oath he was investigating.

“It’s truly a shame. I always hoped to inherit my father’s oath and make you my knight someday.”

“An oath is not an absolute sanction. You know that, do you not?”

“Even so, at the moment of coronation, the oath inherited with the sword is more precious than the crown itself. People consider it absolute and noble. Ah, if Lady Tempête de Neige were here, she would surely agree with that, wouldn’t she?”

Because Melchior had moved, Chel, who was standing by Lyssa near the entrance, suddenly looked up.

“Your Highness, what do you mean…?”

“You should know this as well, my lady. Not all oaths are righteous vows or beautiful promises.”

Chel’s lips, usually unflappable, froze.

Melchior lightly patted Chel’s stiff shoulder. It was a gesture declaring that he knew almost everything about Arthur and his friends.

Ishiel was inseparable from Arthur, the twins were still children, and it was Chel who actually funded Arthur’s private soldiers. She was indeed the link that needed to be severed first to catch Arthur.

Cleio carefully assessed the situation.

‘I’ve wondered why the crown prince has left Arthur’s party alone until now. Is he planning to start pressuring the youngest soon?!’

But why now, and why such a drastic change in attitude here in the provinces? That wasn’t the crown prince’s style—neither economical nor elegant.

Today’s Melchior seemed unstable and twisted. His smile did not last, repeatedly appearing and disappearing, and his complexion was as pale as a sick person.

As Chel and the crown prince faced off awkwardly, Mietz stepped in.

“It doesn’t seem proper for Your Highness to tease a young student with such cryptic words.”

Melchior barely moved his arrogant chin to return his attention to Mietz.

“I don’t think there are many things I need to hear about propriety from you, Sir Michislav. For one, just thinking about Dame Rosa Pehite, who is desperately searching for her only son, is enough. How could you be so heartless as to cut off all contact for over twenty years?”

As Cleio listened to the conversation bouncing around, he was so shocked he couldn’t help but make a dumbfounded face.

Mietz himself looked as if he had forgotten to breathe.

‘What?! Mietz was Professor Rosa’s son? Wait, Professor Rosa was married?’

Melchior’s bombshell resolved several questions at once.

‘No wonder everyone talks about Arthur’s swordsmanship as being so proper and orthodox… Of course, if he learned from Rosa’s son! And he always acted so nonchalant when the previous knight commander was mentioned? That guy, really…’

As Michislav no longer answered, Melchior naturally fell silent as well.

But Cleio, pressed against the wall, could sense it. That Arthur, outside, was banging on the window.

It was just that Michislav, with his transparent ether, had cast [Enhance] on the window frame with his hands behind his back, muffling the sound of Arthur knocking from outside.

Whether his hidden identity was revealed or his purpose for wandering was discovered, he didn’t care; he was simply keeping his student from getting tangled with the abnormal Melchior.

Mietz’s judgment and actions were excellent.

‘Not today’s Melchior. Something will happen for sure.’

The whites of Melchior’s eyes were tinged with a pale pink. It was because the blood vessels were bursting. Beautiful, but grotesque.

“Let’s leave the past behind. We have a future. In that sense, I must once again express my admiration for Sir Cleio, who is responsible for our future. I heard you caught the Python with Arthur?”

Unexpectedly, the attention turned to him.

Cold sweat beaded in Cleio’s tightly clenched fist. The single glass of alcohol he had earlier burned in his veins, making his breath quicken.

Since the crown prince had called his name directly, there was no way to withdraw now.

Mietz’s face was almost mournful, unable to let go of the window frame or draw his sword in front of the crown prince to protect Cleio.

Cleio took a step forward to defuse the standoff. Now Mietz was standing behind Cleio.

“Yes, Your Highness. I was lucky.”

Normally, Cleio would have given credit to Arthur and the children, but he did not in front of Melchior.

‘No good can come from mentioning their names here.’

“Luck… If it keeps happening, it becomes skill, doesn’t it? Word of your rapidly improving magic has spread throughout the capital. The python was a ferocious and terrifying beast, and it held a very rare magic stone, I hear?”

“Yes, they called it the Onyx of Submersion.”

The moment he heard the name of the magic stone, Melchior’s eyes showed complex emotions over the swirling colors. He couldn’t hide his inner thoughts for once.

“Perception” clearly picked up on the crown prince’s abnormality. The short conversation gave Cleio a major clue.

‘I see. The crown prince’s real objective was the Onyx of Submersion.’