Editor 107
by CristaeThe Northern Side of the Mountain Range (4)
Arthur couldn’t wake up again even as Mietz grabbed him by the collar and shook him, and just collapsed completely.
Maybe it was because he’d reunited with someone he could trust and lean on, and that made it easier for him to relax.
With a deep sigh, Mietz picked up Chel on one hip and Arthur on the other, and hauled them up to the second-floor rooms. He put Chel in Isiel’s room, Arthur in the room he would share with Clayeo, and then returned to the table where only Clayeo remained.
The pub owner cleared all the dishes as he left for the night, and in the empty hall only the faint reddish glow of the fire flickered.
Clayeo was tired too, but didn’t feel like he could sleep just yet.
‘I always thought I was staying right by his side, but I didn’t realize things had gotten like this.’
Clayeo explained to Mietz what had happened during the finals in Arthur’s place.
Judging by Arthur and Isiel’s attitudes and what they’d said about the letter, Mietz also seemed to know all about Arthur’s plan.
Since he was deemed trustworthy, Clayeo didn’t hide even the collusion between Aslan and Pierce Klagen.
Gurgle, gurgle.
Rummaging through the bar cabinet, Mietz found a new bottle of liquor, hurriedly tore off the wax seal, and filled his glass to the brim, as if his insides were burning.
He downed the drink in one gulp without any snacks, then stared at the fire and spoke.
“Asser student, what do you think of Pierce Klagen?”
“What is there to think? I view him no differently from anyone else.”
“I haven’t been to the capital in over twenty years. So, what do people say about Pierce Klagen these days?”
“No one speaks well of him. Everyone is cowed by his position, so they can’t confront him directly, but he’s a man of power without any popularity.”
‘A man who chases after only present-day success, without any sense of face or honor.’
‘He has no children to inherit his power, and it’s not like he’ll live forever, yet he shamelessly clings to authority.’
When Clayeo relayed these same words from Dione, Mietz looked as if he wanted to drink straight from the bottle.
“And on top of that, the mustache doesn’t suit him, but he waxes it up stiff, so there are often caricatures mocking that look in the Clarion.”
“In the Clarion too! Ha, what a notorious man he is.”
“That’s right. Even Professor Rosa Peichte, who never gets angry, was enraged by him. When the knight commander and sword master used transformation and injured a student, she drew her sword herself to stop him. Oh, Professor Rosa is—”
“I know, I know. The previous commander. Huuuh.”
For a while, only the sounds of Mietz pouring drinks and setting down the bottle could be heard.
The flickering fire cast deep shadows across his face. The man’s tightly closed lips, high nose bridge, and deep eye sockets all had a strangely familiar look.
While Clayeo recalled the source of the familiarity he felt from this stranger’s face, Mietz calmed himself.
“Then, have you ever heard of him living up to his title?”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it. Besides, his title is all but forgotten now.”
“Damn, I knew it. Then do you know why he ended up like that?”
Hearing Mietz’s loaded question, Clayeo sensed it immediately.
‘This Mietz teacher is either a noble or someone who used to be in a high position. Someone who knows Pierce Klagen personally.’
Schuliman Kishion was stubborn but not foolish. Since he’d brought this man as his daughter’s mentor, there was definitely something there.
His long hair was wild, his beard under his chin was unkempt and scraggly, and his robe was frayed and worn at the hem, but that was all a disguise.
The man’s rough hands were clean even under the nails, and his table manners were as neat as a well-educated person’s.
‘I don’t know what circumstances led him to this, but you can disguise your looks, not your behavior.’
As seen in Arthur and Isiel’s duel during finals, they used swordsmanship that seemed as if the textbook had been carved into their bodies.
That wasn’t a posture you could develop in a day or two, or even in a year or two of training.
Someone who couldn’t use proper swordsmanship themselves could never pass on a knight’s sword to their student. Even Clayeo, whose own swordsmanship grades were abysmally close to failing, understood that much.
‘No way the teacher who taught those kids is just a nameless mercenary or some thug good with a sword. So what’s this guy’s real identity, and what does he know about the knight commander?’
Even in the previous manuscript, Pierce Klagen sided with Aslan at the decisive moment of the second war.
The fact that the commander of the capital defense knights joined the second prince’s rebellion was a major blow to Albion.
‘If this man could provide a clue for stopping Pierce…’
Clayeo forced himself to focus, fighting off the drowsiness and fatigue. Then he gave the answer Mietz was waiting for.
“…Probably because of the prohibition of the Oath?”
The teacher’s thick eyebrows twitched. It was the reaction of someone hearing an answer they never expected.
“That’s right. There was a time when everyone knew Pierce Klagen’s title, but now no one remembers it, and any written record has been lost. Soaked, worn, or torn. It all happened somehow, and even restoration magic can’t bring it back. What’s the point of this so-called age of science and progress, when such mysteries are still with us?”
Gulp.
“Asser student, let me ask you one thing. Did you make an [Oath] with Arthur, like Isiel did?”
“No.”
“You’re clever. I tried in all sincerity to talk Isiel out of binding herself with something like that. But once she makes up her mind, she’s like a rock, and she wouldn’t listen to me.”
The prohibition of the Oath was weaker than the magical formula of [Pledge] or an ‘Aether-engraved contract.’ It didn’t demand your life in exchange. Even so, Mietz treated the restriction as if it were a terrible curse.
“Do you think those two will ever betray each other’s [Oath], or be unable to fulfill their intentions?”
Dribble.
Gulp.
“Do you know when the [Oath] first appeared?”
“It’s taught that it originated with the vow of absolute loyalty received by Leonid I from the honorable knights of the Round Table.”
Clayeo recited what he’d heard in classical studies.
Clayeo knew no more about that era, which wasn’t directly described in the manuscript, than any ordinary student of Albion.
At times like this, Clayeo was glad he’d possessed a student; otherwise, he’d have been in trouble.
‘When I just read the manuscript for , I didn’t think about it, but actually being here, it feels like there should have been a prequel. At least by attending school, I’ve managed to figure out a bit of what’s going on.’
“Loyalty? Honor? Screw that. However much you gild it, the true nature of the Oath is a leash fitted on Aether-sensitives.”
“Isn’t such a restriction necessary, for knights with superhuman power to live among people without Aether sensitivity, so that they don’t cross the line?”
The [Oath] was an essential component of knighthood. The regulations were praised as honorable. In a strictly hierarchical society, honor was fundamentally a virtue belonging to the privileged.
Only those who were noble or exceptional could possess it.
‘You have to call it something like that, or how else are you going to control knights and wizards? I always thought it was a clever design.’
“You’re a powerful mage, yet you think from the perspective of ordinary people. I see why Arthur likes you… But haven’t you ever wondered why the one holding the leash of the Oath must be the king?”
Of course not.
‘Jeongjin’ hadn’t made an [Oath] with Arthur only because he was afraid of forgetting his mother and younger brother, not out of any grand principle.
Clayeo had nothing to say and just held out his glass.
Mietz refilled it and continued in a low voice.
“The [Oath] is really a form of curse. The Conqueror King didn’t give a seat at the Round Table to any vassal who refused the Oath, so the Oath was basically forced.”
Anyone who graduated from the Capital Defense Academy, whether swordsman or mage, couldn’t avoid the [Oath] if they were knighted.
“Think about it, student. Even when the king you originally swore to dies, the [Oath] doesn’t break. It’s inherited by the legitimate successor chosen by the previous king. It’s no different from how the old slave class was treated.”
“…I see. So contrary to public perception, the [Oath] is never a noble act.”
“Conqueror King Leonid I was a cruel and cold-hearted man. That’s the true nature of the monarch who wrapped his sword in Aether, the first sword master, who led knights against the disaster of monsters.”
The Kingdom of Albion was founded as the Holy Horonos Empire, which had ruled the Dernier and Centrum continents from ancient to early modern times, fell into decline.
Before Leonid I’s coronation, Albion was merely a border province of the Holy Empire, one of many vassal states along the Tempus River. From the south to the north of what is now Albion, there were numerous kingdoms vying for power.
But then the gates of Mnemosyne opened, monsters rampaged everywhere, and the empire fell. Kingdoms collapsed and refugees flooded the roads.
It was in such turbulent times that Leonid I was born.
The time it took for the heir of a barren province to annihilate the monsters and conquer all the lands along the western coast of the Dernier continent was a mere twelve years.
“And finally the monarch himself became a disaster. Before every country had a sword master as now, there was no one who could stop him. Historians say that if he’d lived just five more years, he would have unified the entire Dernier continent.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Such a man, out of anger at his knight who committed adultery with his wife, invented the Aether prohibition—how noble could that possibly be?”
“…Adultery, you say? That’s really the first I’ve ever heard of that.”
“This is top secret, so of course few know. It’s the real reason the Tristain territory is stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Lancelot Tristain coveted Queen Isolde, so Leonid I made him prove his sincerity until his death. Since he was bound by the [Oath], he couldn’t leave the north out of fear of the prohibition.”
‘So it’s Tristan and Isolde, and Guinevere and Lancelot… Hah, what kind of author does this with the lore?’
“A thousand years ago, the only monster in this harsh land wasn’t Morolt. There was also the black serpent Python, and legend says that the Duke of Tristain stayed in the north because he couldn’t finally slay it.”
“!!!”
Clayeo, trying to judge whether Mietz was really knowledgeable or just a local history geek, automatically straightened up.
‘Python is a monster that appears in the last manuscript. It’s a flying reptile… the boss monster Arthur’s party barely managed to kill after it awakened for the first time in a thousand years.’
Clayeo rapidly revised his evaluation of Mietz from local history buff to major NPC.
‘Judging by the story so far, no character who appears meaninglessly in exists.’
“…Then, did you come here as soon as the monsters started rampaging to stop Python?”
“How could I stop that? I told you, I came for the money.”
Even without activating [Insight], it was obvious. Mietz wasn’t good at lying, and his tone changed dramatically between when he spoke from the heart and when he was bluffing.
“Anyway, you get it now? That [Oath] was born from a mix of jealousy and malice. You see why I tried so hard to stop Isiel?”
“Yes, I do. And Isiel would have done it even after hearing all this.”
“You really are their friend. You know them well. Stubborn kids. Even after I told them that [Oath] doesn’t just break if you violate it, but also if you simply can’t fulfill it, they went ahead anyway!”
“Those two, maybe so, but isn’t it true that all official knights in this country are knighted after making an [Oath]? Even knowing all this, are there really no knights who refuse the [Oath]?”
“Most people don’t know how frightening the prohibition really is. Absalom I’s knights were abandoned by the king himself, and the Concession King never inherited the [Oath] in the first place.”
“But after the War of the Roses, there have been quite a few knights who lost their memories, haven’t there?”
“That’s right. Because they let King Edward die during the War of the Roses.”
Mietz’s explanation was quite detailed.
Knights who betrayed the late King Edward and chose the current King Philip were all caught by the prohibition of the [Oath] and lost their memories. But what they lost varied greatly from person to person.
“Some forgot the name of a beloved pet, or lost interest in a cherished collection—there were many small forgettings like that. It didn’t seem like such a terrible restriction.
That’s when our generation of knights realized… the Oath is not an absolute shackle. They could change kings. Breaking the Oath didn’t take their lives.”
“For all that, the knight order is still well maintained, isn’t it?”
As far as Clayeo knew, the knights currently active were those who had newly made an [Oath] to King Philip.
‘Even if it’s not inherited, as long as you become king, there’s no problem commanding knights with the [Oath], right?’
Clayeo’s question was answered in a second.
“When a knight treats their [Oath] lightly, what good is that? Sir Pierce acts as if he doesn’t know what loyalty is, and the Duke of Cruel listens to the queen instead of the king—how is that good? For Albion people, that’s all very strange. You wouldn’t know, since you’ve been like this since birth.”
“If I follow your reasoning, there’s no reason the king must hold the rights to the [Oath], so isn’t this situation, with the restriction weakened, actually better than before?”
“No. On the contrary, it could drive the knights out of control. That’s what’s dangerous. The effects of forgetting, of memory loss, don’t become apparent right away. At first, they just seem like a small price…”
Mietz told more stories of knights under the prohibition whom he’d tracked down and met.
Some slowly lost the forms of sword techniques they’d known since they were five, unable to remember a single move. Some even forgot their own names and parents.
“But because that forgetting happened gradually, and many retired and left the capital, the terrifying outcome was hidden. By now, there are probably few knights left in the capital defense order who participated in the conspiracy with Pierce.”
At this moment, Clayeo felt only one thing.
‘Wow, I’m really glad I didn’t make an [Oath] like that.’
“Before he became the first count, Pierce Klagen was the greatest and most righteous knight in this country. He was the sort of person who could willingly become the villain for the sake of making the right choice. Isn’t that surprising?”