Editor 156

The Idyll of Albion (8)

“But Kleio, anonymous tips are often ignored, and named tips will be traced later by the crown prince, so we need a suitable tip-off route.”

“Right.”

“Now, it’s your turn to applaud me. I know people at both companies who can place a tip-off document right on the editor-in-chief’s desk where it can’t be missed.”

“Who?”

“Some colleagues from the Violet Club work there.”

The Violet Club was a suffrage movement group Chel was active in.

Since he hadn’t expected to receive help at such a moment, Kleio didn’t jump at the suggestion but weighed it carefully.

“Melchior is behind this situation. Your colleagues could be retaliated against later. Isn’t it dangerous?”

“You said the crown prince’s Insight skill has a limited number of uses. Even if he combs through everyone on Swift Street, my colleagues would be the last ones suspected. One is a society reporter, and the other is a fashion column contributor.”

Now Chel, too, knew about Melchior’s skills.

Before attending this year’s royal New Year’s gathering, Kleio had explained Melchior’s skills in detail to all the children.

He judged that everyone’s ether level had increased enough to offer some resistance, and, paradoxically, he was also convinced that ‘Insight’s Structure Poetry’ wasn’t used recklessly on just anyone.

“Does that… really matter?”

“Don’t you know all the editors on Swift Street are old-fashioned sticklers?”

Swift Street was a district in the northern part of the Sovereign Quarter, packed with media companies.

“They think young female reporters who keep up with the latest trends only know about the Marquess Crater’s jewels or Yvette Dufar’s dress details. Most of them ignore our colleagues like that, so if they slip the photos under a tray while serving tea, no one will know who the tipster is. They make us serve tea several times a day!”

Chel’s explanation certainly had a bitter plausibility, but Kleio still couldn’t accept it easily.

‘In the last manuscript, the group called Violet Club didn’t even appear properly. So it wouldn’t catch Melchior’s attention right away, but…’

As Melchior placed little value on ordinary lives, he also did not value the will of ordinary people far removed from divine providence.

That way of thinking, befitting someone of noble birth, might be what gave those terrifying eyes their blind spot.

But that was just a shallow certainty, a guess.

Torn between saving Arthur and the possibility of exhausting Chel’s organization, Kleio nodded with difficulty.

In the end, he chose to side with someone ‘deeply involved in the world’s well-being.’ This was a matter of conscience, not even a matter of choice.

It might be a pathetic excuse, but only if Arthur survived could struggle and progress continue. The world’s continuation was Kleio’s most important duty.

“I’ll say it again, but you really need to be careful. I feel terrible about this, but I have to ask. How do I contact your colleagues?”

“Let’s see, today’s Wednesday, so there’s a small meeting tomorrow at lunchtime for people who work on Swift Street. I know which tea room they’re meeting at. It’s not far from here.”

“That’s good news. If you don’t mind, could you ask them if they’d be willing to do the tip-off?”

“No need to ask. They’d be happy to do it for this.”

“…Because the club members share your goals?”

“Exactly! They’re comrades who don’t want me to fall here. Let’s prepare the document now so it can be handed over at the tea room tomorrow. We can’t show the letter as is, so we’ll need to rewrite it so the sender can’t be identified.”

“Right. I brought pen and ink, carbon-copy paper plated with magic stone copper, envelopes, and stationery. If you need anything else, I can go out and…”

“Sit down. For now, we’re supposed to be a young office worker and a maid in a long-distance romance who just met. It’d be weird to go out again right after arriving.”

“You’re really sticking to that setting…?”

“Of course. Let’s get some of your Rayne escort. My ether’s all bound, and even though it’s covered with clothes, it still glows. I need your help.”

Chel pointed to the collar of her maid’s uniform.

She was so nonchalant that he’d forgotten. Chel was still wearing a suppression device. Kleio sighed at his own stupidity.

“If you don’t mind, can I take a look? If it’s not the kind the dean made but a recent factory product, I might be able to undo it.”

Suppression devices, once only made by senior mages, were now commercially available for controlling intermediate ether responders.

That was because, after the development of the Tiflaum mine and the discovery of the activation spell, Tiflaum processing workshops had sprung up.

“Thank goodness! This is a factory product. Hooray!”

Chel boldly tore off the detachable collar and deftly folded the neck of her dress.

Kleio, who stood and bent over to examine the suppression device, quickly found the part where the spell pattern was scratched.

“This will work.”

“Great!”

Factory-made Tiflaum products, whether the spells were stamped with a mold or engraved by a worker, had lower durability than those made by senior mages who set the mold and inscribed the spell directly with ether.

Naturally, they couldn’t match the power of the originals made by Zebedee, and the spell patterns were often imperfect. If alcohol was applied and ether focused on the distorted part, it would malfunction.

He’d learned this destruction method by dismantling a factory-made suppression device with Behemoth, just in case, when they first appeared.

It was a task that required a complete memorization of the spell and very delicate ether control—without ‘Promise,’ he would never have attempted it.

But he had ‘Promise,’ and he’d also bought and dismantled six suppression devices for practice.

‘I prepared for a one-in-a-million chance, and today’s the day it pays off.’

“Then, Chel, wait a moment. To release this, I need alcohol as a catalyst. I’ll go downstairs and buy some liquor.”

“It’s good that the catalyst is easy to get, but the innkeeper will definitely think we’re having a good time.”

Kleio, who had been gathering change without a thought, froze like a statue at that chilling remark.

The tired-looking young man turned his head with a creak, like a machine in need of oil.

“You want to joke at a time like this?”

“If I don’t joke, how else can I get rid of this filthy feeling! Anyway, they only sell gin and ale here, so don’t just buy enough for the catalyst—get a drink for each of us, darling!”

Not wanting to explode at Chel, who was still witty even as her silver eyes flashed with anger, Kleio hurried out of the room.

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The two stayed up almost all night.

Of course, the cat sprawled out and slept even on Kleio’s behalf. The cat, exhausted from days of overwork and needing to sleep half the day, was short on rest.

The room’s table was a mess of empty glasses, cheese sandwich crumbs, and office supplies.

In the middle was the tip-off document the two had worked on all night. They left out all mention of Hydra’s poison and rewrote it to make it impossible to guess the author’s identity.

They even used [Memory] to recall the letter written by Silas Merchant of the Ather Company and mixed it as provocatively as possible with Fran’s letter.

It described how arrogant Brünnen knights had invaded a barren military camp guarded by an honest border lord, gravely wounded Albion knights, and then demanded to be treated as nobles.

It added the commentary that this was a clear border violation and a military provocation—an extremely problematic matter diplomatically.

‘If this becomes public, Brünnen and Albion will both have to issue statements and explanations. It’s not enough to start a war, but if emotions sour, it could even lead to a break in relations, so it can’t just be swept under the rug.’

On top of that, they included copies of the photographs Fran had taken with various magical tools, as clear as a telephoto lens, making it impossible for anyone to doubt the incident itself.

‘If it were just a tip-off document, they might ignore it or try to cross-check, but with such clear photos, there’s no way they’ll doubt the event happened.’

They put the originals of the documents and photos back in Kleio’s bag and divided only the copies into envelopes.

“Done. This is perfect. I can’t believe you thought to get magic stone copper carbon paper, you clever thing.”

“It was left over from before—I’d planned to pawn it if necessary, but it came in handy. More importantly, Chel, where did you learn to write with both hands?”

“I’m actually left-handed, but my mom beat me until I switched to my right. I usually write with my right, but if I have to write something secret, I can do it with my left.”

“…It seems your mother is either incredibly helpful or not helpful at all in your life.”

“Let’s just say she helped today.”

Exhausted from the suppression device, Chel dozed off back-to-back with the snoring cat. Kleio, worrying that Arthur might get hurt and the world be thrown into chaos in the meantime, couldn’t get any proper sleep.

As dawn broke.

Just as when she fell asleep, Chel suddenly got up, washed her face in cold water, and fixed her wig. She was so skilled that it looked just like real hair.

She reattached the collar that had been removed to dismantle the suppression device and reapplied makeup to her cheek, now only faintly red thanks to Kleio’s overnight healing.

During this, Kleio also quickly brushed his hair and retied his tie. When Chel saw him ready to go, she sighed deeply.

“The morning edition is already out, and the evening edition is cutting it close. You’re aiming for an extra edition?”

“Yeah. Distribute it as an extra first, and then have the main article in tomorrow’s morning paper for maximum effect. Even if the acting king orders a publication ban overnight, the extra will have already spread, so suspicions will only grow.”

Listening to Kleio’s hoarse voice from fatigue, Chel felt a strange emotion.

Even when he was much thinner and looked like a little boy, Kleio had always been the calmest in a crisis. More than anyone.

“How did Arthur end up recruiting someone like you? The more I think about it, the stranger it seems. Anyway, if you’re planning to attract attention with this tip-off and print extras, that means you’ll be meeting the crown prince today.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re going with your hair like that? Anyone can see you rushed to cut it to escape secretly.”

“…You think so because you know the story. How would others know?”

“Hey, you think that snake-like crown prince won’t notice? Sit down. Let me at least tidy it up.”

Chel picked up the office scissors on the tea table and made a menacing snipping sound.

“Mwaaaaang! (Yeah, trim it up a bit!)”

With Behemoth, who’d just woken up, joining in, Kleio had no way to resist the demands of one cat and one person.

Spreading the bed sheet on the floor, Chel displayed considerable skill despite the poor tools.

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After attaching a note to Behemoth, who was meowing for food, they sent him ahead to the tea room with directions.

Chel assured him, “Miss Harris is a cat lover, so if a handsome cat like that knocks, she’ll let him in and feed him something.”

Now, the basket Chel had brought contained two document envelopes instead of a cat.

Before opening the room door, the two exchanged glances.

“Well then.”

“Yeah.”

From the moment they stepped into the hallway, there was no trace of Chel’s usual self.

Staying one step behind Kleio and shortening her stride, she looked every bit the timid maidservant.

Her posture, tightly gripping her gloved hands, was perfect.

Leaving the inn, the two mingled with workers heading to their jobs and made their way to the tea room.

At the very end of Swift Street, on the detour toward Royal Circus, the 2nd and 3rd floors of a Carmela dynasty-style building was Miss Harris’s tea room.

As Chel expected, Miss Harris was already at work, preparing desserts.

When Miss Harris saw Chel’s face through the glass doorframe, she silently unlatched the door, even though it was before opening hours.

Inside the entryway, Behemoth was being treated to milk. So focused on the food, he only glanced at Kleio.

“Thanks for letting us in, Harris.”

“No problem. Chel, you can come anytime. I saw the note that clever cat brought. Is this your friend?”

“Nice to meet you.”

“No need for introductions. Chel’s friend is my friend too. Go on up to the second floor.”

“Thank you.”

After Harris disappeared into the kitchen, Kleio whispered quietly.

“She didn’t seem surprised at all by your appearance.”

“I usually change clothes in the back room here, so she’s used to it.”

He wondered, ‘What must she get up to that she’s so used to disguises…,’ but Kleio didn’t ask. He felt he’d end up learning a society scandal he shouldn’t.

The shop was filled with the smell of butter from Miss Harris’s baking. There were Violet Club pamphlets on the tea room tables decorated with green botanical wallpaper.

The menu listed very cheap tea prices and noted that Miss Harris made all desserts herself.

As Kleio looked around the unfamiliar but cozy space, Chel grabbed his scruff and opened a hidden side door.

“Get changed into proper clothes here and come out.”

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The frock coat and trousers he’d had tailored last fall, which had been kept at home ever since, were now slightly short in the sleeves and length. Still in her maid’s uniform, Chel mercilessly laughed at his appearance.

Kleio grumbled under his breath.

“If you want to make a call from somewhere safe from being traced, the Layton Hotel is perfect, but they restrict entry by dress code, so I have to wear at least this.”

“Yeah. It should be enough to fool the doorman. So, let’s say you manage to arrange a meeting with the crown prince today. How will you let me know?”

The key to this operation was for Kleio to draw Melchior’s attention while low-grade newspapers printed and distributed lots of extras.

If they couldn’t print extras, or if they were banned before distribution, all their effort would be wasted. Melchior’s interference had to be prevented.