Editor 53

Field Trip (1)

On the day of arrival, a tour of the Tiflaum mine and the temporary research lab was scheduled.

The students split into six carriages and headed for the “King’s Forest.”

In the last carriage to depart rode Arthur, Cleio, Isiel, Chel, the Angelium twins, Nebo, and Fran.

The twins, having spent all their energy running around energetically since morning, had fallen asleep.

Only then did the surroundings finally quiet down a bit.

“What’s up, Rey? Did something happen on the train? First class had comfy seats.”

Arthur poked Cleio, who was staring out the window at the early autumn foliage.

“It wasn’t about the seats…”

“The twins got to you, huh? Still, straighten your shoulders. Stop slumping over.”

“I just don’t feel up to it right now.”

“Then I should cheer you up. The wine at tonight’s dinner after today’s schedule is going to be amazing.”

“Wine?”

“These days, Dubris is all about the mines, but the red wine made at the Dasos vineyard at the foot of the ‘King’s Forest’ is also excellent.”

Chel jumped in immediately, looking excited at the thought of drinking.

“That’s delicious! Dasos wine is produced in such small quantities, they only serve it to VIPs at our hotel. This time, we can drink as much as we want.”

Finally, Cleio’s crumpled expression began to relax a little.

‘Yeah, let’s get through it thinking about alcohol…’

After about twenty minutes of riding, the flatlands ended and the forest began.

As they climbed a wide but less-traveled road for a while, they saw trees being felled and mounds of dirt piled up. The freight tracks were still being installed. In the distance, a tall vertical shaft loomed.

Cleio was certain of one thing.

‘Of course. The news about the mine didn’t come out until much later, but development had already started ages ago.’

At last, they arrived at the entrance to the mine.

Getting off the very last carriage, Cleio, tired from the long trip, was late to notice the students murmuring.

“You’ve all come a long way. I hope you stay comfortably and learn a lot.”

It was Melchior’s clear voice, ringing out far and wide.

The moment he heard that voice, Cleio almost fell flat on the ground.

He’d expected to see him, but not so soon; he just wanted to duck back into the carriage at the sudden appearance of a person he’d rather not see.

He sneaked glances at Melchior as if looking at something frightening.

The Crown Prince ahead was dressed simply, with hunting leather gloves.

He had only two attendants: one was a sturdy, short-haired, black-haired knight, the other a woman who looked like a scholar.

The unexpectedly lavish welcome unsettled not only the students but also the teachers and assistants.

Even the rather senior Professor Maria Gentile was so flustered in front of Melchior that she stammered.

“W-w-what an infinite honor for His Highness the Crown Prince to personally greet us.”

“Not at all, Professor Gentile. These students will become the swordsmen and mages responsible for Albion’s future. No effort is spared for them. Now, please, take your time looking around.”

Even though the Crown Prince told them to feel at ease outside, most of the children were from noble families and showed him the utmost respect.

‘Is this an idol fan signing or a papal visit? It’s a circus.’

Cleio stood awkwardly behind Arthur and Chel, just hoping Melchior would leave soon.

But the Crown Prince, gracefully receiving the students’ greetings, finally reached the last carriage.

Cleio hastily activated both [Separation] and [Perception].

“It’s been a while, Arthur!”

“It’s been a while, brother.”

“Haha, you’ve grown even more dignified since I last saw you.”

“You’re as you always were, brother.”

Melchior pulled Arthur in for a hug.

Arthur, who was already exceptionally tall for his age, was still a bit shorter than Melchior, who was ten years older.

Of course, in terms of build, the trained swordsman Arthur was sturdier than Melchior.

If he wanted to, Arthur could have shrugged off his elder brother’s grip, but he endured Melchior’s affected friendliness, hiding his discomfort.

‘Anyone watching would think they’re incredibly close.’

Melchior fixed Cleio with his bronze-and-gold eyes as Cleio unconsciously stepped back a couple of paces.

Swept by fear, Cleio instinctively clenched his left index finger in his hand.

Finishing his showy greeting with his younger brother, Melchior naturally turned his attention to Cleio.

“How have you been, Sir Cleio?”

“I greet Your Highness the Crown Prince.”

Cleio managed a greeting, looking up at Melchior with movements that felt like his joints would creak.

Arthur, ever loyal, came to the rescue yet again.

“Brother, sir, you’re being too stiff. Let’s relax.”

“Yes, please call me as before…”

“Haha, is that so? If you prefer it that way, I’m all for it.”

“Now that we’ve greeted each other, how about we get moving? No one can leave while you’re standing here, brother.”

“Oh dear, I’m in your way, aren’t I?”

‘Then go. Don’t hang around with the kids…’

Cleio, sweating nervously, unable to guess Melchior’s intentions, suddenly sensed a sharp, dangerous aura behind him and turned.

It was Fran.

“But since I’m here, I should greet the young son of Count Werner Niels Hyde-White, too. Francis, this is our first meeting, isn’t it?”

“…It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

Fran, jaw set tightly, forced out a greeting. It didn’t even seem deliberate—more like a reflex.

Between them, the [Oath] lifted a golden string of text.

[Unique Skill: ‘Structural Insight’

―Eyes that see into the essence of things.

―The user can discern the true intentions of a skill target they face. Additional features include history, status, past…]

‘Are you seriously using it!!! Aaaagh!!!’

Bracing himself for the world to shake, Cleio squeezed his eyes shut without realizing it.

A few seconds passed.

“What are you doing?”

Chel tapped Cleio’s back. The carefree chatter of the kids and the noise of the mine drifted in.

Nothing had happened.

Opening his eyes, Cleio saw Melchior looking down at Fran with a benign expression, Arthur looking awkward beneath his smile, and Chel looking dumbfounded.

‘Maybe the skill didn’t clash because I wasn’t the target?’

Just as Cleio was about to sigh in relief—

Thud—

Fran, who had been trembling, collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

“Fran!”

“Are you okay?!”

Cleio, catching the falling Fran, ended up falling with him.

He saw the stigmata on Fran’s sweat-soaked hand faintly glow and then fade as Fran lost consciousness.

‘Is this a kind of skill collision, too?’

Certainly, propaganda/agitator and insight skills seemed incompatible.

Even so, an ordinary person like Fran wouldn’t have been able to resist Melchior’s skill.

“Professor! A student is sick!”

Isiel pulled Cleio up, and Chel quickly called the chaperone. Only then did the commotion settle down.

All the while, Melchior wore a face of genuine concern for the student.

If Cleio hadn’t overheard the whispers between Melchior and his attendant knight, even he might have been fooled by the act.

“Was there resistance?”

“Quite. Still, I was able to confirm it. For him to be entrusted with such a responsibility—unexpected.”

“The flag of the people no longer counts the age of the flagbearer, Your Highness. It is proof that the organization is falling apart.”

“I know, Taethurn.”

Listening to their conversation through [Perception], Cleio felt like fainting himself.

‘What the hell has Fran been up to! Melchior’s seriously investigating him!’

It was clear that the “true purpose in life” Fran had found was far more than just writing for magazines and distributing flyers.

Words like “conspiracy,” “treason,” and “overthrowing the state” started spinning in Cleio’s head.

.

.

.

Even while touring the mine entrance and the temporary research lab nearby, Cleio’s thoughts were elsewhere.

His scattered mind finally came back to him only after the first glass of wine at the banquet. It was a wine delicious enough to snap his eyes open.

‘Dasos wine!?’

A red wine with black currant and chocolate aromas, dark in color and high in alcohol, with a creamy finish.

It paired perfectly with the butternut squash soup, smoked trout, and veal and autumn mushrooms in cream that followed.

‘Thank goodness I don’t have to see that Crown Prince’s face during dinner.’

The wide hall of the Winter Palace was lit at every wall, and the banquet table was set long in the middle.

At the head table sat the Crown Prince, Arthur, and the professors. Chel and the Angelium twins were also nearby Arthur.

Most of the students rushed to sit as close to the Crown Prince as possible, so the slow-moving Cleio ended up near the end of the table.

Thanks to that, he could actually taste the food.

‘If that Crown Prince had been nearby, I wouldn’t have known whether this delicious food was going into my mouth or up my nose.’

Focusing only on his plate and glass, Cleio ate dinner in silence until someone sat down next to him with a loud clatter.

“Well, well, the main course is already out!”

The woman with freckles and frizzy hair poking out was the scholar from the mining bureau who had come with the Crown Prince and guided them around the lab.

She was small and dressed simply, so she didn’t look much older than the students sitting nearby.

“Hey, fill my glass! And bring some more veal!”

Calling out to the staff as if the Crown Prince’s banquet were a tavern table, the researcher only took a look around after downing a drink in one go.

“Hello. I’m Freda. I’m a researcher with the mining bureau.”

Gulp.

Cleio, diligently chewing the last bite of veal, answered a beat late.

“…Hello. I’m Cleio Aser. Thank you for your kind guidance earlier.”

Freda, scrunching her freckled nose, laughed boisterously and set down her empty glass.

“You weren’t listening to a word of my explanation, but your manners are good! Cleio… let’s see, you don’t look like a swordsman. Hoping to be a mage?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, but you’re not interested in Tiflaum?”

“No, I’m very interested. But earlier, I was worried because my friend suddenly collapsed…”

“Hahaha, friendship is what matters most at your age. Since we’re sitting together, should I explain again? Anything you’re curious about Tiflaum?”

Freda wasn’t really asking for Cleio’s permission.

No matter how you looked at it, she was just an otaku eager to talk about her own field of obsession.

Of course, people like this were the best sources of information for Cleio.

“Yes, I’m curious. I especially want to know what’s been solved so far with the Tiflaum problem.”

“Wow! You really are interested! Listen, all the researchers now agree that instead of activating Tiflaum’s ether by imprinting a specific magic and then transforming its form, like when Master Zebedee made the suppression orb, you have to activate the ether in Tiflaum from the start and then imprint the function.”

“So that even without high-level mages, Tiflaum can be processed?”

“Exactly. We only have 14 high-level mages in the country now, and you can’t put those precious, frail folks on a factory line. We have to change the system so that even lower-level mages or low-level ether users can process Tiflaum, depending on the purpose.”

“If the ether is kept permanently active, do you think it could solve the problem where magic formulas engraved by mages below level 6 become nullified?”

“In theory, yes. We just haven’t succeeded yet.”

‘They’re almost there! Maybe they’ll manage even without Fran? Hang in there, Albion Mining Bureau!’

“But the thing is, we haven’t found a stable formula to keep Tiflaum’s ether activated. We got our hopes up after a few successes, but now the failures sting even more.”

“Have you found a catalyst to engrave the formula?”

From the previous draft, not only creating the formula but imprinting it onto Tiflaum was difficult.

If you just scratched the formula with a chisel, it would disappear in less than a day.

That was because of Tiflaum’s properties.

Tiflaum had a melting point similar to iron and could be worked in similar ways, but even finished products would revert to their original, mined state after about a day.

‘If you made it as an alloy with other metals, it would just separate again.’

So, even attempting to engrave the ether activation formula required a catalyst that could corrode Tiflaum.

Until now, mages of level 6 and above had to use ether directly to process Tiflaum, and then engrave the magic formula for the specific product to maintain its form.

The best-known example was Zebedee’s “suppression orb.”

‘If you’re only making a few, that method is fine, but now that a vein’s been discovered, the methodology has to change.’

“Not even that, yet. Of all attempts, adamantium’s engraving lasted the longest, but even that faded over time. Ugh, if only we could solve this one problem! It’s agonizing to be so close, yet have it slip away.”

Freda stabbed the air with her fork. She was already on her third glass of wine.

It was a situation where drinking only led to more drinking.

Cleio, munching on chocolate mousse topped with salted caramel tuile, fell deep into thought.

In the previous draft, the revolutionary formula that kept Tiflaum’s ether activated was published in a solo study by the genius mago-scientist Fran.

The manuscript described just how amazing the formula was, but of course, there was no actual formula written out…

‘Even if it had been written, I’d never have understood it!’

It was the first time in a long while that Cleio felt the woes of being a humanities major.