Editor 127
by CristaeThe Last Pleasure of Winter Vacation
“Oh! By the way, I heard from my little brother that you’re such a celebrity! I haven’t been to the capital in ages, so I just found out now, huh?”
Click.
Clio, who had just finished packing his suitcase, gave a suitable reply.
“Little Trude must have exaggerated. Sir Trude, you know well how newspapers in the capital like to blow up even the smallest stories.”
To be honest, Trude had never read even a single page of a newspaper in his life. But since the boy mage had politely played along, he could only feign agreement, clearing his throat.
Chell, listening to their conversation, just smiled and cracked walnuts. The level 4 swordsman easily cracked walnut shells that should have needed a hammer with his bare hands.
“Y-yeah. Right. Newspapers always exaggerate too much. Bad guys.”
The naïve knight, not knowing he’d been led by Clio’s subtle rhetoric, went on to share other news from the territory.
The older knights were unshaken, but those like Trude, who had been selected for the advance party, were already packing, saying goodbye to their mothers, and making a fuss.
“Oh! Our young lord, I mean, the new Duke! He distributed the black crystal magic stones from the shadow spiders equally to all soldiers and knights, but thanks to you, kid, the amount dropped a lot.”
Clio had also heard that when his level increased, the ether surge melted not only the monsters but also the magic stones.
As the boy awkwardly tilted his head, Trude reached out his tiny hand and patted Clio’s back.
“No, it’s not that you did badly! You did great, it’s just that you did too well, kid!”
Trude was short and small, but he was strong. He was not only a master archer but also a swift level 4 knight.
When he patted Clio’s back, the tall boy slouched and bent in a funny way.
Chell, who had finished cracking all the walnuts, burst out laughing.
“Stop it. You’ll break the kid.”
“Huh, just from this? Honestly, you’re so skinny you look like a walking streetlight. You need to eat better.”
“Thank you for your concern. By the way, could you perhaps introduce me to a chef who specializes in Tristein territory’s local cuisine?”
“Why’s that?”
“The food in this territory is such a delicacy that I really want to bring someone to the capital.”
“Haha, the kid’s got taste! Yeah, our territory’s food is the best! Let’s see… Oh! I’ll introduce you to the youngest son of the Two-Birch House. They’re our neighbors, and his mother’s cooking is amazing.”
Just as Trude excitedly started sharing the entire family background of the ‘youngest son of the Two-Birch House,’ Lysa burst in and dragged him away.
“Trude! So this is where you’ve been slacking off again? Be ready for the north wall patrol in five minutes. Move!”
“Ah, yes, Deputy Commander.”
“Mietz, who grew up here less than you, works three times as hard. Don’t you feel anything? Huh? If you mess around like this in the capital, what will become of our order’s reputation?”
The two disappeared like a storm.
Chell, who had pushed the peeled walnuts toward Clio, propped his chin up leisurely.
“By the way, I didn’t expect Sir Mietz to stay here.”
“She just can’t leave people in trouble.”
Not all the knights would be moving to the capital. For example, Deputy Commander Rotan had decided to stay and lay his bones in this northern wall. He said guarding the Duke of Armorique’s fortress was his oath.
Still, the reduced manpower made Mietz’s continued presence a big help to the order.
“Indeed. As expected of Professor Rosa’s kin. That Arthur kid, too. He found out late that his teacher was an elite knight ousted in the Rose Rebellion, but his attitude didn’t change at all. It’s really impressive.”
Chell knew Mietz’s true identity more accurately than anyone in the territory. She had also been at the banquet on the day the crown prince visited.
Because Melchior directly kept her in check, Chell had been busy these past few days checking if there were any problems with her finances and her private soldier support routes.
‘Seems she even investigated Sir Mietz in the process.’
“He’s the lord you chose yourself. Isn’t it good if he has a big enough vessel?”
“Haha, that title is a bit embarrassing. But yes. If I’m to stake my fate, I’d rather he be bold and not get hung up on petty things. Though he’s so indifferent that it drives me crazy.”
“…Why? Did you find out Melchior did something?”
“Not at all. There are no signs of sanctions on my assets or on the Kision barony. All the administrators are people I’ve known for a long time. Anyway, until something happens, I just have to move forward.”
If Melchior sent in secret intelligence agents, there would be no way to defend.
Chell was taking a risk, knowing that.
Her tone as she brushed walnut shells from her fingertips remained light, but the weight of responsibility in her words was anything but.
The source of funds for illegal private soldier training.
Chell, a key figure in a plan that could endanger her whole family if exposed, was only eighteen.
A sudden question came to Clio.
“…Maybe, Melchior could have given you the rights you wanted, too?”
Now that the Tiphlawm mine belonged to the royal family, their coffers were overflowing, but before that, revenues had been steadily declining.
If Chell had joined Melchior from the beginning with her inheritance, there would have been plenty of room for negotiation.
“Are you kidding? He’s the kind of guy who demands a price you can’t pay. They say anyone loyal to him must offer up everything. Look at Taeseoton. Melchior doesn’t know what fair trade is.”
“The crown prince is lukewarm about expanding suffrage, but is it fair to say that? Isn’t Taeseoton a special case?”
If Aslan’s political leaning was a reactionary push for royal power, Arthur, due to his environment, couldn’t help but be influenced by egalitarianism, and Melchior was somewhere in the middle, striving for the status quo.
‘The crown prince, a paternalistic conservative, seems even less compatible with Chell than Aslan, but why does she hate him so much? Just because he’s the villain?’
“No. If you don’t give him absolute, soul-deep loyalty, Melchior never makes anyone his own. I heard the head of the secret service is also a fanatical devotee of the crown prince. I’m a businesswoman’s daughter. What’s wrong with betting my fate on getting the greatest return from the same investment?”
“But the chance of loss is too high for that.”
The conversation between a boy and girl weighing the kingdom’s princes like stock investments was very strange, but to them it was just everyday life.
“Didn’t Dione teach you? How can you expect dramatic profit without risk? And I’ve got my pride, too. If I’m going to take a gamble, it has to be with the guy who needs my abilities the most. Then why did you pick him? You could’ve become Melchior’s promising aide.”
Because of the author’s will… Clio couldn’t answer that, so he pretended to ponder, stroking his chin as he chose his words.
“Hmm… I didn’t have such an objective reason. If I had to say, I thought it better to pick someone who saw me as a person like himself. After all, I am a commoner.”
A cold dizziness flashed in Chell’s silver eyes.
“So, you know too. The crown prince’s strangeness.”
“What strangeness?”
‘There’s not just one or two strange things about him.’
“The way he looks down on people is really fucking awful. Like watching a mayfly’s last flight, or like looking at wild grass that will wither next season, he looks at humans with utter detachment.”
Clio admired Chell’s insight. You couldn’t get a more accurate description of someone who remembered eight lifetimes.
“Whether royalty treats a foreign exile as worthless, or picks on a girl for imitating a man, I can handle all that. But I can’t stand that weird attitude of looking down at others with the gaze of an immortal.”
After a moment’s breath, Chell added one more thing, uncharacteristically hesitating.
“On top of that, he’s so damn beautiful on the outside—it’s deceptive. His beauty wasn’t given to entertain us.”
“…Your insight surpasses even your swordsmanship. I’m impressed, Celestes.”
“Hmph. Are you going to treat me as a sage just because I saw our prince’s potential years before you?”
Chell jokingly tapped Clio’s arm, breaking up the serious mood.
By the time they all returned to the capital, the calendar had already turned to March.
After saying goodbye at the central station, all the children headed to their own homes.
Now there was less than a month left of vacation.
‘What an eventful winter vacation this was.’
Clio returned home with the chef Trude had introduced.
It turned out he was the young man who had worked as a kitchen helper at the only inn in Morolt where they stayed on the first night.
At their first meeting, Clio promised triple his current salary and wrote a check for a month’s wages as travel expenses.
Seeing the number on the check, the young man packed without a word and showed up at the train station the next day.
Mrs. Canton expressed displeasure that Clio had hired someone new without consulting her, but when he replied, “I just really wanted to eat Tristein territory’s cuisine,” she stopped nagging.
If the skinny young master said he wanted to eat something, whatever it was, it was welcome, more than welcome.
After returning from the eventful field training, Clio holed up in the Aser mansion and didn’t step outside at all.
Over a week of seclusion passed, and Dione visited the Aser residence.
She came to report on the progress of the book and to bring the manuscript.
“This is the final draft Mr. Levi reviewed. Since it’s typed, it’ll be easy to read. Once you check it one last time, I’ll apply your corrections, pull out the serialized chapters separately, and start laying out the main text. The envelope contains a cover sketch—take a look and give your opinion.”
Clio flinched at the words “final draft,” but soon hid his agitation and thanked Dione. He left the binding to her, who had a keen sense of aesthetics.
Of course, Clio read the manuscript lying down.
With the “Memory” function, even if he needed to compare it to the first proof, he could do so in his head instead of getting up to rummage through proof sheets.
After over two weeks of sending and receiving proofs through the page boy, Behemoth tried to drag Clio out of bed by biting his pajamas.
“Myaooork! (If you’re human, act like one!)”
Reluctantly getting up under Behemoth’s attack, Clio ate Mrs. Canton’s special breakfast-cum-lunch, then magically made two copies of the corrected manuscript and went to see Professor Maria.
“It’s finally starting to look like a real book. I’ll review it quickly and return it.”
Professor Maria smiled so brightly upon receiving the proof that Clio felt oddly excited too. It was the joy of publication, felt for the first time in a while.
Not wanting to make a second trip, he also scheduled a meeting with Professor Zebedee that same day. He was so grateful to live in a world with telephones.
As soon as he met the dean, he reported his increased ether level.
The old professor, having his student open a circle, jumped up and down like a child, not acting his age. He looked about ready to give the boy a piggyback ride.
After calming the excited professor, Clio seized the opportunity and asked him to write a recommendation for Professor Maria’s book.
Zebedee nodded without even listening to the details.
.
.
.
Having finished his tasks and returned home, Clio quickly washed up, changed into pajamas and a robe in broad daylight, and sprawled on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
Though it was March, the weather wasn’t biting cold, but there was still a chilly, damp feeling in the air.
It would’ve been nice if the sun had come out, but March in Lundane was not yet the season for bright sunshine.
After spacing out for a long time, Clio suddenly remembered and took a handful of magic stone rubies out of the safe.
He was tired of everything, but his longing for a heated floor remained. The fireplace or radiators just weren’t enough.
He’d skimmed a few books on magic stone crafting, but they focused on aesthetics rather than function, so they weren’t helpful to Clio.
To make a heated mat, he would have to string the rubies into heating wires and fix them between at least two layers of fabric, but then the magic stones’ appearance would be hidden.
Magic stones were basically jewels. There were no cases of them being processed so you couldn’t see them.
‘Even unidentified stones in jade mats are displayed so you can see them, so hiding magic stone rubies, which are more expensive than real gems, is too much, isn’t it?’
But so what if it was? With so many magic stone rubies in the safe, he decided to just proceed.
Having gotten them after a scuffle with his so-called brother, he was determined to use them all up.
‘Just space the magic stone rubies at regular intervals. Wrap them in thin felt above and below, and cover that with flannel for a nice feel.’
Clio took out some paper and jotted down a simple diagram, thinking of using Tiphlawm as the heating wire material.
But where could he get a major strategic resource monopolized by the royal family?
While rummaging through the safe drawers and subspace wallet for something usable, his hand found a softly glowing piece of metal.
‘Right! That time, I snuck a piece out for an experiment during the field trip and it ended up here!’
He remembered, after being caught by Frieda while making a call in the parlor, he never got to return the Tiphlawm fragment that was in his bedroom, so he’d brought it back.
He’d completely forgotten about it since, but his laziness in not cleaning out the subspace wallet had paid off.
‘If I melt this into wire and string the rubies… and write the magic formula at just the starting point, I won’t have to damage the gems.’
It seemed like a really good idea. Clio opened a circle at minimum size and developed the [Heating] magic formula. He threw in the Tiphlawm to melt in the center. It was a waste of ether, but it was faster than finding a reliable blacksmith.
‘Once the prototype works, I’ll take this design to Dione’s shop for production. She’ll make it beautifully.’
If the product came out well, he thought it would be wise to send at least one ruby mat to his so-called father who had given him those rubies, as a gesture for the future.
‘Even if that Vlad bastard tries something, he can’t fool Baron Aser’s sharp eyes, but having received this much, even as his child, I should show some gratitude.’
He had once resented Baron Aser, but thanks to being his son, he’d been able to accomplish many things at the Capital Defense School.
Maybe it was guilt over hiding the fact that his lost son wasn’t coming back, but…
‘Well, was it me who did that? That was the author.’
Clio decided not to think any more deeply about things he hadn’t chosen and couldn’t change.