Editor 45
by CristaeI Woke Up and Became a National Hero (2)
No matter how close a battle for the nation’s fate might draw, Madam Canton’s painstakingly prepared afternoon tea was delicious.
Puff choux filled with orange-scented custard, Victorian cake with jam and fresh cream, and tiny cucumber sandwiches—all were delicious enough to warrant admiration.
Though simple in appearance, each one had rich flavor and excellent ingredients. Paired with bergamot-scented tea, it was a taste from heaven.
Behemoth, not to be outdone, pushed its snout onto the plate.
Chomp, chomp chomp chomp.
“Mmm, this is tasty.”
“Drink your tea with it as well.”
The cat bit into a large piece of cake. Fearing it would choke, Cleio poured some tea into the saucer.
Sitting on the table, the cat elegantly alternated bites of cake and sips of tea, its tail waving contentedly.
After sharing snacks with the cat in harmony, Cleio’s plan to head upstairs and nap again was derailed by unexpected visitors.
“Ray!”
“We heard you fainted!”
The moment the servant opened the drawing room door, Liffy and Leticia burst in like a whirlwind.
It had only been four days, but the twins fussed over Cleio as if they hadn’t seen him in months.
“It was nothing. The doctor checked me—just ether depletion.”
“Really?”
“We were all worried.”
“That’s why we came to see you, with the teacher.”
“Ishiel and Chel wanted to come too, but they couldn’t because of the school peace patrol.”
“The gates were opened! They recruited students for patrols!”
The twins naturally took either side of Cleio and chatted from both directions in surround sound.
“We saw the newspaper. You were amazing!”
“What amazing. The articles are exaggerated.”
“There’s that modesty again. Stop pretending!”
“Ray, now the whole capital knows how exceptional your magic is!”
The kids’ noisy chatter was enough to bring on a headache Cleio hadn’t even had.
Next appeared Sir Swain Temple, accompanied by Zebedi.
The knight, who had disappeared after earlier, must have gone to fetch Zebedi.
Zebedi, who typically wore a shabby professor’s robe, now appeared in his formal uniform as Royal Magician Inspector, radiating an odd sense of authority.
As soon as he walked in and saw Cleio, the professor clicked his tongue.
“I came as soon as I heard you’d woken, but you look a mess even after four days of hiding. Why so pale?”
“I may look this way, but I’m fine enough. I heard you helped a lot while I was unconscious. Thank you.”
“How could I just sit and do nothing after all that? As both headmaster and magister, I’m obliged to check on the wellbeing of a student-mage who slew a magical beast.”
As Cleio began to rise slowly to greet him properly, Zebedi stopped him.
“Stay seated. Madam Canton told me you’re still not fully recovered from ether depletion, so you don’t need to get up.”
He hadn’t wanted to get up anyway, and gladly sank back into the sofa.
“Sir Swain, feel free to sit as well.”
“No, sir!!! I will carry out my duty to protect the Magister!!!”
His resounding voice filled the drawing room. Still, the knight took a rigid stance by the door in parade rest.
Though armored and sabered in the full uniform of the Defense Force, it seemed to leave little impression on anyone in the room.
“With two magicians here, what’s to worry about. Well, do as you please.”
Turning his attention from Swain, Zebedi swept back his robe and took the sofa opposite Cleio.
Clack—slide.
Just as Zebedi started to speak, Madam Canton entered with a trolley.
Fresh desserts, a freshly brewed teapot, and gilded cups for everyone crowded the trolley.
The twins’ eyes sparkled. With deft hands, Madam set out the dessert and tea. The spacious drawing room grew lively.
Madam Canton handed the first teacup to Zebedi, then served dessert to the twins.
“Wow! Madam, this orange puff is amazing.”
“How can the Victoria cake be so soft and aromatic?”
“It’s our Aser family’s special recipe. Thank you for coming to visit the young master. I’ve prepared plenty, so help yourselves.”
Behemoth, belly round with food, narrowed its eyes and hopped onto Cleio’s lap.
“Mrowww (This parlour feels like a market).”
Behemoth was right. Cleio’s head was spinning. Still, with practiced manners, Zebedi sampled the tea and resolutely began to speak.
“Cleio, you don’t look well, so I’ll be brief. First, about the commendation.”
“Commendation… that’s sudden.”
“Not really. The buildings in the Orails district are all old, so even a small shock was dangerous. If you hadn’t lured the beast away, there would have been great danger for elders and the very poor who hadn’t managed to move out yet.”
“I didn’t do it with such lofty intentions….”
Zebedi seemed to interpret Cleio’s evasiveness as humility.
“You truly did something admirable. Your fame has spread throughout Lundane—His Highness the Crown Prince has decided swiftly. You are to be awarded the Capital Defense Medal.”
‘Isn’t this just a trick to make a hero and distract from the security threat? The Crown Prince sure plays politics well.’
A door in the heart of the capital whose surprises no one could predict was hardly welcome news for citizens.
Becoming a topic for gossip and a political pawn was unpleasant, so Cleio’s reply was curt.
“What good does that do me?”
“Tch, such impudence.”
Zebedi clicked his tongue, but Cleio didn’t care. He detested the very idea of publicized, complicated things like titles or defense medals.
The ones actually surprised were the twins on either side.
“Ray, you don’t even know that?”
“The Capital Defense Medal is an award only given to those who defend the capital. It’s the third-highest honor in Albion!”
“It’s been a hundred years since anyone’s received it. Our great-grandfather did!”
“You’ll be ‘Sir Aser’ now?!”
Perhaps because they were from a military family, the twins were well-versed in commendations.
“Kids, could you be quiet now.”
“Yes, teacher!”
“Sorry! Ray was just being silly!”
Mouthing complaints, the twins returned their attention to dessert and tea.
“Cleio, let me explain, since you seem to know nothing. As they said, if you receive the Capital Defense Medal, you gain the same status as a knight. You can use the title of ‘Sir.’”
“I see…”
Cleio’s response was unenthusiastic.
‘Big deal… it’s not like they pay you.’
Zebedi quickly moved on to a practical explanation. Seeing Cleio uninterested in glory, he immediately realized he cared little for honor.
‘Tsk tsk, is this child naive about the world, or just immature?’
“Second, the medal carries a lifelong pension. 120,000 dinars a year.”
Now there was a reaction. Cleio, who had looked about to yawn, opened his eyes wide.
‘Twelve million a year. If they just pay me for doing nothing, that’s pretty nice. No wonder medals like this aren’t awarded often.’
“Third, not that it matters much, but I’ll mention it anyway. If invited to a royal banquet or dinner, you can bring animals into the palace. That tradition dates back to Leonid I and his lions.”
Cleio’s wide eyes instantly drooped again. Maybe because it was such an old country, even the strange rules survived.
Only the twins, putting down their cups, exchanged glances and whispered to each other.
“We can bring him to the autumn banquet.”
Liffy pointed at Behemoth.
The cat, suddenly the focus of both girls, perked up its ears.
“If it’s a palace event, there’s the birthday celebration in summer and the banquet in winter.”
“Last year’s banquet food was so good.”
“Boiled oysters from Savlie and fresh prawns.”
“Parma cheese soufflé and roasted woodcock.”
“So tasty.”
“I wish we could have it again.”
Hearing the girls, Behemoth started kneading Cleio’s thigh with its paws. Looking down, he found the cat’s eyes sparkling like stars.
“Mrowww—Yow-mrow! (You hear that? You simply must take me to that banquet!)”
Trapped between twins and cat, Cleio could only let out a shallow sigh.
“And the final matter. This is not as Royal Magister, but as your teacher: I propose you become my disciple.”
“Aren’t I already your student?”
“Not just any student—my research disciple. To inherit my chants and formulae.”
Red alert went off in Cleio’s head. As an editor from an academic publisher with years of dealing with professors, he recognized the sign.
‘Wait, isn’t this basically a grad school offer?’
“I am not qualified for such an… honor.”
“Don’t reject right away. Take time and give it some thought.”
Quickly accessing ‘Promise’ memory, Cleio checked whether Zebedi had ever had a disciple, but no such mention existed.
Whatever he read in Cleio’s silence, Zebedi grew more earnest.
“It may be unexpected, since I’ve never taken a disciple before. But Cleio, you have perfect magical recall, don’t you? I do too. That’s not something gained by effort, but by birth.”
Cleio gently clenched his left hand, with ‘Promise’ ringed on it. Cold sweat beaded his neck. He felt almost like a fraud.
‘No, you’re a real genius; in my case it’s all gear…’
“A disciple to whom I entrust everything must have perfect recall. Until now, having no such students seemed my lot in life.”
‘No wonder he never had a disciple, with standards like that. If you haven’t found one by now, you never will. Stop looking!’
Though conflicted inside, Cleio had nothing he could say, so as he hesitated, Zebedi stood up in a huff.
“I’m not asking for an answer now. There are years till graduation; consider it. I’ve approved a two-week medical leave. Get plenty of rest.”
“Thank you for the excessive offer. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
As the professor stood, so did the twins.
“Eat lots and get well, Ray.”
“It’s your stamina, not just ether, that’s the real issue.”
“We’re off. See you in two weeks!”
After everyone left, night quickly fell.
Exhausted, Cleio let Madam Canton see the guests off and headed straight to bed.
.
.
.
After sleeping an entire night and half a day, Cleio awoke to a strange presence.
It was the middle of a dark night.
Barely pulling himself from sleep, Cleio instantly recognized the person sitting by his bed.
Even without a single beam of light, that overwhelming presence could not be confused.
It was Arthur.
If he’d come properly through the door, Madam Canton would have woken Cleio first.
‘Did he climb in some way other than the door again? Damn prince.’
“If you come and go through windows at night, anyone would think you’re a burglar. Don’t complain if you get stabbed.”
Cleio, hoarse from sleep, joked, not even lifting his head from the pillow.
“Are you planning to stab me?”
“If you keep doing this, I just might. What’s going on at this hour?”
“I had no time until tonight. Got called to the palace and all sorts of things.”
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Arthur’s appearance in a rare splendid formal uniform emerged. His epaulets and sash shimmered faintly.
The royal red dress uniform—identical to the one shoved in a corner of Cleio’s own wardrobe.
“If you’re so busy, go mind your business—why come here?”
“You wouldn’t come back to school, so I was curious if you were alive or dead.”
“If I were dead, it’d be in the obituaries.”
“Yeah, I read the paper. The great spear that slew the beast, that was the magic that overturned the atrium that time, wasn’t it?”
“What.”
“I heard you only woke today, but are you still in pain?”
“I never was in pain—just tired. If you hadn’t woken me, I’d have preferred it.”
“Come on, don’t be so cold—have a drink. I bet with that tutor and the head maid, you aren’t allowed to drink at home.”
The flask came from somewhere inside Arthur’s sharp uniform.
Still half-lying down, Cleio took it, wrinkling his brow at the harsh, cheap gin.
He nearly flung it away—“drink this yourself”—but Arthur looked uncharacteristically downcast, so he took a sip. It seemed Arthur needed a drink to broach his real topic.
‘Ugh, that’s strong. Makes my head ring. Why drink this junk, what a waste of liver.’
When Cleio handed the flask back, Arthur tipped his head and finished it off.
‘What the hell has gotten into him?’
Waiting for Arthur to get to the point, Cleio couldn’t suppress a yawn.
Arthur, having drained the half-full flask, finally spoke.
“…Why do you insist on handling everything alone?”
“Handle what?”
“Ray, you knew the magical beast would appear. Otherwise, you’d have no reason to be in the Orails district.”
Cleio almost dislocated his jaw mid-yawn.
He nearly exploded!
‘No! That’s because—my land…!’
But he didn’t want to confess his assets just then.
Arthur was strapped for cash as is. Even “Jungjin,” who grew up poor, knew that flaunting wealth only bred jealousy and resentment.
“That was a coincidence.”
“Coincidence… Why do you always hide your talent or noble sacrifices? Is it because you fear it’ll put you in danger?”
Arthur’s words were the farthest possible from the truth, and Cleio screamed internally.
‘Aaaagh. They say a Buddha sees only Buddhas and a pig only pigs, but for his brain to be this much of a flower garden…’
“Noble… If you’re going to talk nonsense, just go. I’m going back to sleep.”
“How harsh.”
Arthur set down the flask and shifted his posture. The sword at his waist clinked, an irritating sound.
Suddenly, a faint sense of wrongness came over Cleio.
He shot up reflexively and, frowning, activated [Perception].
Beyond the familiar dizziness it triggered, a powerful stench hit him.
The smell of metal and blood.