Editor 157
by CristaeKleio explained to Chel as follows.
Information about Hydra’s poison would surely pique the crown prince’s interest, so if he called the royal legal adviser’s direct number and leaked the story, a meeting would definitely be arranged.
But there was no telephone at the tea room.
“If I call and arrange to see him at the planned time, Behemoth will come and draw an O on the floor with his right paw. If it doesn’t work out today, I’ll tell him to draw an X.”
“That cat really understands human speech, huh.”
“He’s truly a smart spirit cat. Unbelievably so.”
“Yeah, yeah. Every pet owner says their cat or dog is a genius. Well, your black cat really is clever, though.”
Thudthudthud.
With milk still on his mouth, Behemoth bounced over.
With his keen hearing, Behemoth had heard everything. Displeased by being called a pet, Behemoth sprang at Chel like a coiled spring.
Of course, as a level 5 swordswoman, she dodged the cat nimbly and didn’t let herself get caught so easily.
“WEEEEEK! WOOOEEEEK! (Not only do you make me run errands like a servant boy, but who’s whose pet, anyway!)”
The whole tea room shook. Sitting in a blue calico armchair, Kleio stopped the cat and hugged him.
“Moat, did you finish your meal? Not hungry anymore?”
Having bristled up his fur, Behemoth gave Chel a final warning hiss before curling up in Kleio’s arms.
“Mweoooong. Myeeeeng. (I’ve mostly filled up. You’ll have to serve me a feast later.)”
“You heard what I said earlier, right? Circle if it works, X if it doesn’t. Once this is over, I’ll get you anything from Dernié or Meridies continent, so just help me out for today.”
“Mph, miyaaak. (Hmph, just for today. Got it.)”
“You’re bribing a cat to run errands for you with the promise of tasty food?”
“Yeah. I’ll have to prepare something even grander than a royal banquet.”
“Honestly, that thing’s not a cat. Definitely not a cat.”
“If it weren’t for Moat, we wouldn’t even be able to contact each other. Why badmouth such a cute and cool cat?”
“Oh, always defending him. Anyway, if things go wrong and you can’t meet the crown prince today, I’ll write my destination on the central station bulletin board under the name ‘Screwur,’ so let’s meet and make a new plan.”
“I’ll do that. But if I get caught and can’t show up today, you hide underground or go home—whatever works for you.”
In truth, this promise was just a contingency plan to put Chel’s mind at ease.
If Kleio showed up at the Layton Hotel, not only the secret intelligence service but also the Ather Company’s investigation department would know his whereabouts.
He’d slipped past them once by surprise, but escaping their pursuit twice wouldn’t be easy.
Chel glanced between the cat and Kleio and sighed softly.
“Your father paid fifty thousand dinars in bail, and even donated to the crown prince’s guard for your pardon, but you’re going right back to the palace. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.”
Half-buried in the chair under Behemoth, Kleio managed to pull out an arm and pointed to the magic stone wallet in his pocket and the wand in his jacket.
“I’ll try to resolve things peacefully as much as possible, but if it’s impossible… even if I end up a wanted traitor, I’ll escape. When that happens, you’ll have to help me out.”
Such bravado, from a young man capable of terrifying magic, was just meant to reassure Chel.
“Hmm, it’d be better if a more pitiful young lady suggested a runaway. It’s creepy, so make sure nothing like that happens.”
“Haha, got it. Then I’ll leave the rest to you, Chel.”
“Yeah, leave it to me. The Swift Street Women Journalists’ meeting is definitely here at lunchtime. By tonight, we’ll have the whole city protesting in front of the Brünnen embassy.”
The tip-off document the two had made from the juiciest parts of the incident was a mixture of belligerence and fervent nationalism.
‘It feels a bit awkward, like copying the security scare tactics the Conservative Party used in the old world… but there’s no other way to save Viscount Kishion and the kids.’
Kleio shook his head to clear away stray thoughts.
Among Arthur and his friends, the system of trust was solid and each had the potential to act on their own judgment, but they still weren’t enough to face the crown prince.
On the other hand, Melchior, who had both power and might, didn’t have colleagues who could make leading decisions in his stead.
‘He has loyal retainers willing to risk disgrace for him, but the Duke of Tristain doesn’t seem like the type to manipulate the press from the shadows, and Besna can’t appear on the surface.’
As Behemoth had pointed out, the fact that the crown prince controlled everything personally meant that, in his absence, no decisions would be made.
That was the gap they had to exploit to have any chance of winning. There was no room for distractions.
.
.
.
The original documents and belongings were left with Chel. Once Kleio’s appearance was tidied up, Harris took him to the third floor of the tea room.
Miss Harris lived in a flat on the third floor of the building adjacent to Harris Tea Room. Guided by her, Kleio crossed the balcony and exited through the flat’s first-floor entrance.
Standing tall, dressed in a suit and hat, he looked like a completely different gentleman from the one who had first entered the tea room on Swift Street.
The Layton Hotel’s tea room, where he arrived a short time later, was quiet.
Even during the hospitality industry conference, most business conversations happened in bars or clubs rather than tea rooms.
Kleio ordered a cup of tea and asked to use the phone. His upscale clothes and natural demeanor drew no special attention.
Lawrence Kinnear, who answered the phone, seemed quite taken aback to hear Kleio’s voice, dodging and trying to end the call.
His Highness the Crown Prince is busy, you can’t see him just because you want to, etc.
But based on previous experience, Kleio’s words would definitely be reported to Melchior.
He pressed hard.
“Please convey my message clearly, Sir Lawrence Kinnear. If anyone other than His Highness the Crown Prince learns of this matter first in Albion, you’ll have to bear all his anger.”
Even over the phone, Kleio could feel the royal legal adviser’s spirit falter. Clearly, the crown prince was terrifying.
[“…Understood. What should I tell him?”]
“Tell him I have an urgent message regarding the byproduct of ‘Ezra’s Iron Pen.’”
Ezra’s Iron Pen was the raw material for Hydra’s poison. Melchior would know the significance of the journal Kleio had read in the former king’s library.
‘If a mere knight wants to see the crown prince urgently, he’ll need to dangle bait like this.’
Melchior was interested in any event that happened for the first time in this life. Since he hadn’t taken the initiative so far, Kleio had lived as if dead.
But now was the time to act.
On the other end of the line, Lawrence Kinnear’s silence deepened. He probably thought Kleio was delivering some kind of code.
[“Understood. Where should the reply go?”]
“Please reply to the Layton Hotel tea room.”
Click.
The call ended rudely. Of course, he probably wasn’t in the mood to be polite. After all, the noble royal legal adviser had just been threatened by someone accused of first-degree treason.
The operator asked if he wanted to reconnect.
[“The call with the Royal Legal Adviser’s office has ended. Would you like to reconnect?”]
“No, it’s fine. There will be a reply soon.”
[“Understood. Thank you.”]
Kleio returned to his seat and drank his now-cold tea. He checked that day’s morning paper provided at the hotel.
Still, the news was nothing but peaceful.
Turning his head toward the large glass window, he saw a familiar black shape by the pie shop across the main road.
‘No… How did he get here so fast?’
With [Perception] enhancing his vision, Kleio spotted Behemoth acting cute and being fed pie meat.
While Kleio was distracted watching the cat, a waiter approached.
“Sir, a reply from Lawrence Kinnear.”
“Ah, thank you.”
As expected, Lawrence Kinnear’s reply was that a meeting would be arranged in the acting king’s office in one hour.
It was going according to plan.
Kleio left the hotel, crossed the street, and pretended to examine the contents of a standing signboard. Soon, Behemoth hovered around his feet. Kleio stroked the cat’s back and whispered softly.
“It worked.”
“Euuuuungung. (Got it. Be careful.)”
Behemoth circled Kleio’s shin with his long tail and vanished into the shadows of the back alley.
Kleio checked the time through the window of a watch shop. It was eleven o’clock.
‘The meeting’s at noon. Even if I deliver the tip to the newspaper now, it’s too late for the evening edition… but they can get out an extra soon.’
.
.
.
So, for the first time in two years, Kleio stood again before the door of the acting king’s office in the parliament building.
Having grown much taller, his line of sight to the door was now different. It was a somewhat inappropriate feeling, but also very nostalgic.
“Sir Kleio Ather, entering.”
“Entering.”
The guards standing on either side of Melchior’s office door announced Kleio’s visit using a different title than before.
There was no answer, but he took it as permission to enter and stepped forward. At the same time, he activated [Separation] and [Perception]. These were basic functions when facing the crown prince.
Though two years had passed, the office’s appearance was unchanged.
A large mahogany desk set with its back to the window, piles of documents, store-bought sofas and tables from the department store, a tea set stained only by tea with no gold trim.
Everything was the same, but the meaning of the scene had changed completely for Kleio. Three years in Albion had given him a natural insight.
‘This place feels less like the acting king’s office and more like a solicitor’s office. At first, he was pushed by the nobles, but since then, he could have moved the office anytime. Why does he use this place?’
But the sense of emptiness in the room wasn’t just due to his matured perspective.
The last time he’d visited, there had been a presence so distracting that he hadn’t even noticed the teacups. That presence was now absent.
‘…The guards let me in because he’s inside, right? Where did he go after accepting the meeting?’
Kleio looked around the empty office. Only the deep blue Tempus River shone outside the window.
Then it happened.
Creak.
A panel on the left wall, decorated only with thin molding, slid into the wall, and suddenly the owner of the office appeared.
Kleio’s body stiffened automatically.
The tall crown prince nonchalantly ducked and emerged from the shoulder-height secret door.
Inside the panel was a dim corridor exposing the raw stone wall.
‘…So he uses this office because of the secret passage?’
The crown prince, seeing Kleio awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, gave a conventional smile. To Kleio, it sounded like the trumpet of war.
“To think you’d visit my office uninvited, Sir. How very unexpected.”
In the face of the abnormal, [Perception] heightened to its fullest.
From the crown prince, he caught traces of blood, dust, and mold he hadn’t quite shaken off.