Editor 152

The peaceful days that have passed—were they so tranquil only to make the ruin of this day more dramatic?

No.

Those days themselves were what gave the strength to get through the present.

Arthur and the children were not weak. Surely, there would be a way to overcome this crisis.

Cleio steeled his heart and organized the new information in his mind.

‘If Tayserton had stormed in from the beginning under the name of the royal regent, Count Kishion would not have ordered a counterattack. They deliberately launched a dawn raid to set the scene.’

Illegal private military training.

If one cooperated meekly with an investigation that could be treated as first-degree treason, it would not look right to frame them.

Of course, if they were knights of the high-ranking Capital Defense Force, they might have considered a night raid dishonorable.

‘But knights who regard their sworn duke as law are different. Tayserton wants to be Melchior’s sword—what would he suspect?’

The loyal knights of Tristein were, even by the standards of 1892, a bizarre relic of a bygone era. People who felt no conflict between personal affection and suppression.

Skills like ‘Charm’ or ‘Propaganda’ had a greater impact on those willing to actively accept the skill user’s actions or words.

At this point, the Tristein Order of Knights would be unable to distinguish whether their loyalty was due to the skill’s influence or their true feelings.

That was not the only problem.

‘Tayserton’s sword energy was already on the verge of changing color when he caught Grendel last year, so his leveling up is not surprising… but surely this can’t be the will of God.’

In the previous manuscript, this happened during the war, but now, in peacetime, he had already leveled up.

If so, it must have required considerable training to become a sword master.

‘How insanely hard did he have to train to level up that even his hair faded? Sheesh.’

Now, there were once again four sword masters in the kingdom.

The youngest among them, born the same year as himself, carried out the crown prince’s orders to the letter. Without conditions or judgment, only according to the intimate causality valid only among them.

It seemed that Melchior, who had been quiet, had raided Count Kishion’s estate at this time as a test, to see how effective a weapon an early-acquired sword master could be.

Tayserton had done more than well enough.

‘Isn’t this like handing Melchior a missile launch button with no usage restrictions? This is insane.’

Moreover, that missile could even walk to the launch site on its own. A truly, lethally innovative tactical weapon.

‘With other sword masters, you can’t order them to go around cleaning up dirty work with Internal Security Bureau agents in tow. To move someone like Pierce, you’d need to offer justification and interests… But to Melchior, Tayserton is someone for whom that’s unnecessary.’

Chop chop chop.

Shrrrr.

“Eook, eooooong? (Hey, your face is souring?)”

Behemoth, perhaps worried about Cleio in his difficult situation, wrapped his scrawny ankle with its tail and circled around him.

It was the genius cat’s instinct that, right after Gideon and Cleio left the palace, had it leap onto the carriage and return to the manor with them.

Cleio hugged Behemoth, soothing the cat’s concern.

Meanwhile, Gideon, seated at the head of the drawing room, stared at Cleio with perfect posture, not a collar out of place.

It felt like it would be less burdensome to be slapped across the face like at their first meeting.

Unable to remain silent any longer, Cleio responded to what he had heard.

“No matter how provincial Parisa is, it’s impossible to maintain such a high level of lockdown for long.”

“Do you really think so? The heir of the greatest old noble house holds countless powers you do not know. If you interpret his summary judgment authority broadly, who knows what might be possible?”

The summary judgment authority of the Duke of Tristein.

It had been invoked before when his life was threatened, and always in the most infuriating situations.

‘Tayserton is already difficult enough to deal with as a loyal retainer, but if you add the untouchable nobility of an old house, what are you supposed to do?’

Even in so-called 21st-century liberal democracies, the masses constantly craved something to revere and bow to.

All the more so here, in a monarchy with strict social hierarchy. The dignity of an old bloodline would be an even more powerful tool.

For instance, just like now, when raiding or overturning another estate without proper justification.

“The Duke of Tristein has already exercised his summary judgment authority in Kishion estate, hasn’t he? Using the power of a sword master.”

“Strictly speaking, he did so as the crown prince’s sword master.”

“Yes. I understand the difference.”

Gideon’s expression grew even colder at Cleio’s reply. He was once again reminded that his younger son was neither naive nor slow-witted.

“If you acted out of ignorance, you could at least use that as an excuse. But are you behaving like this knowing what this situation means?”

After staring for a long time at Cleio, who was absentmindedly stroking the cat’s back, Gideon let out an anxious sigh, uncharacteristic for him.

For a moment, he seemed to age several years, a deep fatigue evident on his delicate profile.

“If the crown prince’s right hand is the Duke of Tristein and his left is Dr. Frieda of the Mining State, then the hidden hand in the shadows is Vesna Driscoll. When I heard that that fanatical torturer would interrogate you personally, I thought all was lost.”

Cleio was impressed. As expected, the Aser Company’s investigative department’s abilities were boundless.

‘So they even found out that Vesna is insane.’

He was momentarily tempted by the idea of recruiting Gideon for the company’s intelligence strength, but quickly gave up.

By any measure, Arthur was not a card Gideon would choose. Especially not under these circumstances.

While Cleio was lost in thought, Gideon approached and lightly touched Cleio’s shoulder.

When Cleio looked up in surprise, Gideon’s sharp gaze scrutinized his haggard appearance.

He seemed to suspect Cleio was hiding evidence of abuse.

After several seconds that felt like hours, Gideon removed his hand from his son’s shoulder.

Though Thelma’s child was grown, his bird-like thin bones left an uneasy feeling in Gideon’s palm.

Sensing the situation, Cleio hurried to explain.

“I am fine. Nothing happened.”

“Even after being interrogated by Vesna Driscoll, you’re probably the first person to walk out from under the north gate unscathed. That depraved priestess is also an executioner for assassinations.”

“She did seem like someone capable of that.”

“Whether it’s God’s help or the devil’s whim, this luck won’t come twice. Do you really understand what you’re doing?”

The aura Gideon exuded felt murderous, and the cane in his hand seemed like a sword.

At that moment, Cleio’s concern was not what to answer, but whether to activate [Disengage].

‘Even without ether sensitivity, he could put any magician or swordsman to shame. Well, how else could he have built that business…’

After blinking a few times, Cleio abandoned the urge to escape reality and answered squarely.

“I do.”

“If you do, then I believe you also know what choice you must make now.”

Anyone could tell: this was not Gideon the businessman, but Cleio’s father speaking.

“You and Lady Tempête de Neige were only released because bail was paid. Count Kishion’s daughter was also taken into custody by her maternal family, the Melamid house, and is under house arrest. You should restrain yourself.”

“But Father, Arthur is still being held underground. Isn’t there any way to get him out? Whatever the truth, his only connection to Count Kishion is that they grew up together at the summer palace.”

“No. The conclusion that the Third Prince encouraged Count Kishion to train private soldiers and connected him to funding has already been drawn, and evidence fitting that is being fabricated as we speak.”

Cleio quickly pieced together the facts.

According to Behemoth, the crown prince was directing this treason case from the capital, and the letter said Count Kishion was detained in his estate.

‘Melchior hasn’t used the structure of insight on Count Kishion yet. There’s still a chance before he unleashes additional abilities like ‘Obedience’!’

“Unless His Highness the Crown Prince interrogates him directly, Count Kishion will consistently claim he had no treasonous intent in raising private soldiers. In that case, Arthur can’t be held indefinitely. He’s no longer an unknown bastard.”

“Yes. The honest warrior Schliemann Kishion would say nothing else even if his head were on the block. But since the crown prince’s goal in all this is the Third Prince, do you think he’ll let him go? Unless Brunnenn invades Kishion right now, it’s impossible.”

Gideon was a man of Albion.

He knew history and the past, and was also adept at reading the present times. He knew that succession to the throne was more often violent turmoil than peaceful transition.

He was not at all surprised that the crown prince, before dealing with Aslan, would try to get rid of Arthur, who had quietly built up his power.

“With Joachim Castilien suddenly ill, Brunnenn has no capacity for military provocation. So Schliemann Kishion’s preemptive defense theory sounds like a hollow excuse.”

Gideon let out a faint sigh, barely audible.

“Cleio, you know as well as I do. It’s begun. Only one survivor will wear the crown.”

“…So you’re telling me not to get involved with Arthur anymore.”

“While you still can.”

That resolute statement, strangely, sounded more like a plea than a command.

Cleio felt a strange emotion toward this man who was not his father, yet also was. Perhaps a kind of guilt, or the pang of one who deceives.

Even so, Cleio stuck to the answer he had to give.

“For me, there has never been a time when I could do that. I must save Arthur.”

“Why? Did you make some oath with the Third Prince?”

“No.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“It’s a matter of faith. It is a promise I made in my own name, and a principle that will set the world on a proper course.”

Cleio’s tone was so plain, there was no sense of passionate advocacy.

It was simply the manner of stating an obvious fact.

That was why Gideon realized that persuading his son was impossible.

Unlike momentary passion or impulsive heroism, such belief could not be broken by external pressure.

“Yes. Perhaps among Albion’s three princes, the third is the most fit for the throne. Better than one who is noble but cruel, or another who wields skillful charm but has a cold nature. But why do you have to sacrifice for him? Why must you be the one to carry out justice?”

There was more emotion in Gideon’s tone than usual. It was impossible to deceive him, and Cleio did not want to. He answered truthfully.

“Because that is the reason I exist in this world as I am now.”

Thud.

The cane in Gideon’s hand fell to the floor from his weakened grip.

Cleio was startled.

The man, who had been like the frozen northern wall, now had a twisted expression on his face. It was as if someone had reached between his ribs and torn him apart—an expression of shock and bewilderment.

It seemed Gideon was muttering Thelma’s name in lament, but his voice was so faint it was hard to make out.

He soon regained his composure and acted as if nothing had happened.

“But Cleio, I cannot save the Third Prince. Under my name are the lives and livelihoods of many people. It is impossible to stake the fate of the Aser family and company on your justice.”

“Yes. I understand your position as well, Father.”

Cleio’s response was calm, the sort of attitude of someone who expected no favor. Before his son, who treated him as an outsider, Gideon’s eyes twitched ever so slightly.

“For now, refrain from going out. At this point, your freedom of movement is limited, so think carefully before you act.”

Before Cleio could say anything else, Gideon briskly left the drawing room. He moved so quickly, as if fleeing, that there was no chance to pick up his cane for him.

As soon as he left, two burly guards Cleio had never seen before entered the drawing room and escorted him up to his bedroom.

It was, in effect, house arrest.

He could have shaken them off with magic and left, but if he did, his relationship with Gideon would be irreparably damaged. The Aser family was too powerful to make into an enemy.

Besides, even if he escaped, he could not immediately save Arthur.

‘Suppose I broke into the prison and brought him out. Then we’d be wanted fugitives… That method really has to be the last resort.’

If Arthur aimed for the crown, he must not become an exile. Knowing that, Arthur and Isiel must have willingly complied with the summons.

Cleio gave Behemoth, who had come up to the bedroom with him, a few requests.

It was time to be rewarded for all the expensive wine he had offered.

.

.

.

While Cleio was confronting his father,

A similar incident was unfolding at Camellia Hall.

Crash!

Katarina, unable to contain her anger, threw her teacup.

In her 49 years, there had not been many occasions when she was this furious.

“Chel, you may feel like a fighter standing up against the world right now, but what you actually did was push our entire family off a cliff. Do you understand?”