Editor 93

The Battlefield on the Tablecloth (1)

The first week of December, when the holidays began at the Capital Defense Corps School.

A three-quarter time dance tune with a flat timbre was flowing through the drawing room of the Asser mansion.

The sound quality of the gramophone was still not very good, and the playing time was very short.

Of course, for Cleio’s pathetic dancing skills, that level of music was enough.

“Lift your heels, your heels! No! What are you doing relying on me instead of leading! Ah—really!”

Thud.

“Ouch!”

Today, for the fourth time as usual, Cleio stepped on Dione’s tiny foot. He turned pale and bent at the waist.

“I’m sorry, Lady Dione, are you all right…?”

Dione, who had stomped her foot, made Cleio regain his posture.

“I’m not all right. I’m really not all right, so today you absolutely have to learn the turn. If you don’t, we’ll be up all night.”

“Why go that far…”

“Otherwise, at the pace you’re learning, you’ll never be able to dance the ballroom at the New Year’s party! All of Lundaine knows I’m your instructor, and I can’t stand being humiliated like that.”

Already, invitations to the New Year’s party had begun to pile up at the Asser mansion. He had heard that, once the new year came, there would be a string of parties one after another.

Cleio, who wasn’t interested in social events at all, still had to attend the Merchants’ Guild ball and the charity ball hosted by the Capital Defense Corps to gather information about the nobles and royalty.

‘If I’d known I’d end up like this as soon as I told Dione, I should’ve just gone without consulting her…’

Regret was already too late.

Behemoth, who was sprawled out in front of the fireplace yawning, mewled and chirped.

“Meowwooooooong (In my view, that guy is hopeless.)”

Chel and Arthur, who were sharing some new wine made from unpressed grapes, chimed in mockingly.

“Cheer up, Ray.”

“How is it you keep messing up the basic steps? Did you really memorize them?”

Clack.

Meanwhile, the gramophone’s disc finished playing its side.

Exhausted, Cleio took the opportunity to let go of Dione’s arm and collapsed onto the sofa. He was so drained that he couldn’t even ask for a drink.

Since Dione was such an excellent teacher, he had memorized the steps he’d seen in no time.

With the increase in narrative intervention, all functions of “memory,” “understanding,” “perception,” and “detachment” had advanced by one level.

Remembering simple movements was nothing.

But even the immense power of Cleio’s promise couldn’t help him execute what he’d memorized with his body.

‘Jeongjin’ had always had no sense of rhythm, and as for Cleio Asser’s body…

‘I knew it, but how could it be this bad. This must be the worst case of physical ineptitude in history. Did my motor nerves die somewhere?!’

“Chel, you try it and see if it’s so easy.”

When Cleio started whining, Dione, hands on her hips, tilted her chin up and raised her voice.

“Ha, young master, you’re even weaker than I am—how are you going to survive in this harsh world?”

“Right. This frail lady is dancing all night in pointy shoes, and Ray, you have no grit! Lady Dione, may I have this dance?”

Chel’s posture as she straightened her back to ask Dione for a dance was nothing short of elegant.

“If it’s a request from Lady Tempête de Neige, I’m always happy to oblige. See, young master? This is how you ask someone to dance. Not by hunching over awkwardly!”

“Ah… yes…”

Arthur, reading the mood, quickly wound the handle on the right side of the gramophone.

Behemoth leapt up and expertly nudged the tonearm onto the record with his front paw.

It was a perfect collaboration.

Music started again.

Chel, after exchanging bows with Dione, placed her hand on her dance partner’s back in textbook form.

“Lady Dione, please call me Chel.”

“Then my heart would pound too much.”

“My, you only say pleasant things, Lady.”

A smooth, flowing lead in time with the music continued. Chel’s steps matched with Dione’s, and the lady’s skirt fluttered like waves.

“What do we do. Watching Chel, the difference between you two is overwhelming.”

“…Why are you comparing me to that socialite optimized for the ballroom?”

Chel was still one of the most popular people in high society.

Everyone knew Chel was a woman, but no one questioned the fact that she wore suits and tailcoats and led the dance.

She wasn’t originally from Albion but a foreigner from the Carolingian lands, and her noble mother allowed her actions, and her current appearance suited Chel so naturally that it would have felt odd to object.

‘Whoever sets the tone and takes control wins. If you told her to wear a dress, you’d probably get challenged to a duel instead.’

“You might find it strange, since you hate banquets and balls, but Chel has her reasons for broadening her network.”

“Ah, for expanding voting rights…”

“Oh, how did you know?”

Cleio, who knew because he had read the previous manuscript, now comfortably offered a plausible reason with a calm face.

“I don’t know for sure… but I figured Chel doesn’t plan to get married in the future.”

In the previous manuscript, Chel remained single to the end. The title she would later earn was “Thunder God of the Sky.”

It was a title akin to a legendary lifelong virgin saint across the entire Dernier continent.

‘That’s exactly why Chel ended up siding with Arthur.’

Under King Philip of Albion, only men over 25 with over 100,000 dinar in their own name, and married women over 35 with equivalent wealth, had the right to vote.

‘The electorate was only about 15% of the total population…’

Even then, the right to stand for election was only granted to married men and women over 40 who owned over a million dinar.

Chel had no intention of being anyone’s spouse, and didn’t want to remain an unmarried woman considered part of her family even as an adult.

She chose reform from above as the quickest way to win the right to vote and stand for election within her lifetime.

That was the king’s powerful right to pass laws.

‘It’s such a noble thought, but that’s not strange. Chel was born a noble.’

“Wow, you know a lot. Is that a ‘prediction,’ or were you just guessing?”

“I have eyes, don’t I? I don’t need a stigmata for that.”

Arthur and Cleio’s gaze naturally turned to Chel and Dione, who were gracefully stepping across the floor.

Chel performed a reverse turn in time with the music and skillfully caught Dione.

Even to Cleio, who knew nothing, Chel’s leading skills were outstanding. For the first time all afternoon, a genuine smile appeared on Dione’s face, which had been frowning until now.

The music was still playing.

“By the way, did you decide to be Zebedee’s research apprentice?”

“They said I could use the research annex on the west side of the school, so I’ll try it out for now.”

Cleio was still stuck at level 4, but even he could feel that level 5 wasn’t far off. He couldn’t keep borrowing the school practice rooms to practice magic forever.

‘I’m self-conscious, and worried I might break the building. I really do need a space to practice magic.’

“But I said I’d think about becoming a formal apprentice until graduation.”

“Why?”

“Becoming an apprentice who inherits a mantra is too much responsibility. Once you get that, you can’t pass it on.”

There would surely be a more suitable apprentice for Zebedee, who had devoted his life to research on healing and regeneration.

Cleio himself was not someone fit to succeed the Mage Master [Patient of Mercy].

‘Most of what I’ll do with magic will be destruction, anyway.’

“Yeah, your shoulders are too narrow to carry much of anything.”

“That’s true, but hearing you say it is annoying.”

When Cleio furrowed his brow, Arthur feigned innocence.

“Oh, the music’s over!”

That day, Arthur gladly reset the gramophone’s tonearm several times, and Cleio, with tears in his eyes, was dragged back to Dione’s Spartan lessons.

---

December 31st, the last day of the Festival of Light, a winter banquet was held at the royal palace.

The summer birthday celebration and the winter banquet were the biggest events held by the Albion royal family.

“They say the banquet has fewer guests than the birthday celebration, but the carriages are just as backed up.”

It took a long time just to get through the palace entrance, clogged with the carriages of foreign diplomats, famous figures, nobles, and members of parliament.

As Cleio was leaving his coat in the drawing room, he ran into the Angelium twins in matching red velvet dresses in the corridor to the central hall.

“Ray!”

“How long has it been!”

The twins, who said their aunt had brought them to the palace, bounced excitedly as if they had wings on their heels.

Their energetic movements made the white lace-trimmed skirts flutter wildly.

Behind the twins, a middle-aged woman with a sharp impression smiled faintly and nodded. She too seemed to be a notable figure, for she disappeared toward the drawing room amid the smokers who were standing with their chins raised, receiving a warm welcome.

“It’s been a month. Have you been well?”

“Ugh, washing up in ice water in the morning and training and more training.”

“Or studying.”

“We’ve only been waiting for the banquet.”

“Meowngyaang, myaak (Is that really living, tsk.)”

“Behe is here too!”

“Wow, the Capital Defense Medal is really nice. Right, Rifi?”

“Yeah. Behe is so cute. Perfect white tie.”

Behemoth, wearing a stiff bow tie, struck a proud pose.

The sight of a big cat leading two girls, tapping along the palace corridor, made the guests stare in astonishment.

Of course, attention-seeking Behemoth only enjoyed the stares, raising his big head.

“Meowrk (Ahem).”

As they passed down the long corridor, Cleio’s group grew larger.

“You’re here.”

“Hey, have you memorized all the waltz steps now?”

There were Chel and Isiel, both welcome sights.

“Oh, junior, you got an invitation too~. As expected~ a VIP, a VIP.”

There was also an unwelcome face that suddenly appeared.

It was Ezra Sergeyev, deputy commander of the Capital Defense Corps Mage Unit, in full uniform.

“Deputy Commander Sergeyev.”

“Why so formal~. Just call me Ezra, Ezra~.”

“Hey, you bastard, we’re already late and you have time to mess around? Do you know how conspicuous it is if a front seat is empty at the banquet?”

“I just wanted to say hi to junior…”

Ezra, who was goofing off, was dragged off to the central hall by a wizard with copper-colored hair.

‘That wizard’s name was Dalia, right?’

Even if she seemed to have a fierce temper, anyone who took care of a troublemaker right in front of you looked like a wonderful person.

Cleio planned to visit Ezra’s lab soon, but only after the New Year season. He couldn’t charge into enemy territory bare-handed.

Left behind, Cleio walked slowly, chatting with the children.

The empty garden outside the window was decorated with all sorts of lanterns. Colored glass recreating scenes from myths and epics glowed in the dark.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

“It looks even more splendid than last year!”

“There’s even a lantern of the goddess!”

He looked together at the lanterns the twins were pointing at. The festival atmosphere filling every corner made him feel a little excited.

Looking through the open door, the enormous central hall was decorated for the banquet.

Three long tables stretched from the entrance to the other side of the hall. Everything on the white tablecloths, from the dish stands to the dessert spoons, was gold-colored.

Even with all the chandeliers lit, it wasn’t enough, so the edges of the hall were lined with gold-reflecting standing candelabras as tall as a person.

“They said the royal banquet was amazing, and it’s not just a rumor. Even if it’s just gilded, how much would all that cost?”

The way to enter the banquet was the same as the summer birthday celebration. A junior official standing at the entrance to the central hall checked Cleio’s face and invitation.

But from there, nothing was the same as last time.

The moment the official saw the Capital Defense Medal on the boy’s lapel, he drew a short breath, then announced Cleio’s arrival in a booming voice.

“Sir Cleio Asser is entering.”

A very brief silence swept through the crowd, already filling two-thirds of the tables.

Gentlemen in white tie and ladies in dresses, dozens of pairs of eyes all turned to the entrance of the hall at once.

Cleio realized that sometimes intangible gazes could be as sharp as honed blades.

The excitement he felt walking down the corridor vanished completely.

Instead, a tension that felt like it was slicing through his skin took its place.

‘Cleio Asser?’

‘The mage who caught the monster and broke the remembered world!’

‘I hear he’s the second son of Gideon Asser, the baronet. He looks a lot like his father. It’s been over ten years since his father attended a banquet, hasn’t it?’

‘He’s Master Zebedee’s research apprentice…’

‘I heard the second prince is investigating him.’

‘Did you hear that the crown prince personally decorated him?’

‘Duke Cruel was against it, I heard…’

‘The youngest knight ever.’

Even without surprise attacks of fire or invasions of water, this place was already a battlefield.