The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

Against the Dark (5)

“I’m trying to reduce the scale of the fire, though it is inevitable flames will burn all over Albion.”

‘Well, it’s not wrong. War is a disaster like fire, and paper burns well.’

This world was, quite literally, built on paper. Kleio was able to defend it so that unexpected developments didn’t carelessly burn down the manuscript. Mietsu swept his beard as he understood.

“To that end, are you holding up in this uncomfortable position?”

Mietsu had decided Kleio was remaining in the banquet hall for the same reason as him, which was to understand Melchior’s intentions to visit the north suddenly. Their eyes met, and suddenly a scarred hand popped in through the narrow window facing the training grounds. It grabbed at Kleio’s collar, but Mietsu pinched the back of the cold frozen hand painfully.

“Aah, are you crazy, master?”

The voice was lowered, but he had no problem recognizing it as Arthur’s.

“Why are you trying to surprise people?”

“That’s right, Lei… can you just give me a drink?”

“What kind of alcohol do you drink during the night watch?”

“What kind of drink is just one?”

“If you get drunk and lose your sword, don’t even dream that I’ll replace it.”

“Oh, how grim.”

The window was narrow, and it was dark outside so that he couldn’t see him, but he could hear the sound of Arthur’s sword rattling. Beg’s sword had a distinctive resonance as it rubbed against the special leather sheath Vasco had prepared. The moment Kleio opened his mouth, dozens of glasses clinked together in a rough toast. Several glasses shattered as they were unable to withstand the power of the knights. Melchior, watching the alcohol and glass debris splatter down, expressed his gratitude.

“Thank you for your hospitality. This is my first birthday to be so happy.”

“It was your birthday?!”

“This! We have to pour another round!”

“Cheers!”

“For the prince’s health!”

“Glory! Victory!”

“Wow!”

Kleio naturally turned towards Melchior even with his Perception turned off, as the voice cut through the turmoil. Arthur, sensing it, shouted.

“Hey, hey, what do you see?”

“Today’s your brother’s birthday.”

“Is that all?”

“They’re continuing the toast. He doesn’t normally have a birthday like this?”

“No. My brother’s birthday is on February 29th. He doesn’t have a birthday this year. He’s just getting the mood up.”

After hearing Arthur’s words, Kleio went through some mental arithmetics. The leap year with February 29th was every four years, and this year was 1891, so the calculation of the crown prince’s age was incorrect.

‘He’s one year younger…?’

“Isn’t your brother supposed to be twenty-seven this year, not twenty-eight?”

“I don’t know… Lady Elene said she thought her child was a year younger.”

“Then, do you really celebrate the prince’s birthday only once every four years?”

“You’re so interested I was worried he was using a skill on you.”

Kleio turned his head toward Melchior.

“In this atmosphere, it would seem strange not to look at him.”

“Well, everyone here has become a fan of the crown prince like that.”

Melchior began to go around the banquet hall, surrounded by people. He didn’t seem to be leaving a single knight behind.

‘If only the duke died, they would become his knights.’

A tall shadow was cast over Kleio’s head as he shook the empty wine glass. Like a beast who sensed danger, Mietsu carefully closed the window. Arthur’s protests were cut off by Mietsu as he gave in and retreated into the darkness. A few seconds later, Melchior arrived from the crowd. Kleio could only admire Mietsu.

‘Did he predict this?’

Kleio turned on Separation, which made him a little dizzy given the alcohol in his stomach.

‘Ah, why now?’

There were too many eyes on them for either Kleio or Mietsu to escape.

.

.

.

Melchior looked worse than usual. His pale appearance made him look even more inhuman and gave off an eerie feeling. The scarlet in the middle of his irises had widened out, clashing with the turquoise color at the edges.

‘Why do you look like you’ve done so much today…?’

Mietsu quietly put Kleio behind his back. Melchior, who saw the giant obstructing his path, stopped in place and seemed surprised. At the same time, Structural View was activated.

‘!!!’

Kleio, who had moved to the wall unconsciously, raised Separation to its maximum. Instead of the expected shock, a cold sweat formed on Melchior’s brow. He was acting injured as his eyes twitched in pain.

‘What is it?’

What sort of pain could defeat a prince that had mastered the art of hiding his expression. In response to that question, Promise began to shine.

[Unique skill: Structural View

―Restriction ∞ use limit is exceeded

―Exceeding the limit of use ≒●∬ increases the prohibition ∝□∠… .]

It was a broken message, but the meaning was clear enough. Kleio hadn’t been the target just now. As the skill unfolded, Mietsu’s large body trembled.

[Unique skill: Structural View

User: Melchior Reignan]

[Unique skill: Concealment Veil

User: Michislav Davrovsky]

[―Skill conflict. Two skills are colliding.

―An urgent [reduction] is required.

―Urgent [reduction]↔″∂≠… Request∴∋∪… ]

‘Their unique skills are colliding.’

The aftermath of the crash struck Kleio, who managed to hold onto the wall so as not to fall down. The same ringing in his ears from the first time he met the crown prince was all he could hear. Even though he was surrounded by so many, the whole world was silent. It felt like time had stopped. Soldiers were still smiling with glasses in hand.

Silence.

The smell of blood began to stimulate Kleio’s senses. The prince, who had a hand over the blood that had been drawn, managed to remain calm. The dignity of one who caught victory returned to him.

“It’s amazing to see you here, Sir Michislav.”

Melchior’s words sounded like judgment. It was a conviction that was impossible to die. Mietsu, the man just called Sir Michislav, suppressed a terrifying expression. Without Separation, Kleio might’ve fainted.

“Don’t call me a title I never had.”

“You didn’t make a [Covenant] in the end, so you’re not a knight? It’s an unfortunate legacy; losing you was to the detriment of the country.”

“How do you seem to know what you haven’t actually experienced? You were still a newborn babe at that time; you can’t remember anything.”

“No, Sir Michislav, I remember. I remember everything I have witnessed since I was born.”

Though he didn’t use appropriate judgment, Kleio could sense the truth in the prince’s words. He had a look similar to when he discussed flowers, that rare expression that wasn’t quite a smile. The prince’s tone softened as he confronted Michislav.

“…And, you seem to believe in the importance of memories as much as I do.”

Kleio screamed inwardly as tension squeezed his stomach.

‘He read it…he read it properly.’

Mietsu’s identity, past, and what he was investigating had been revealed before Melchior.

“I’m really sorry. I wanted to take over my father’s covenant someday and make you my knight.”

“The covenant isn’t an absolute sanction, don’t you know?”

“Nevertheless, it is inherited at the moment of crowning and is more valuable than the crown. Wouldn’t Tanpet de Neju here agree with that?”

As Melchior moved, Cel, who was standing beside Lysa, raised her head.

“What are you talking about…?”

“You should also know this. That a covenant isn’t just a righteous oath or a beautiful promise.”

Cel froze as Melchior gently patted her shoulder. It was an attitude that proclaimed that he knew almost everything about Arthur and his friends. Isiel was inseparable from Arthur, and the twins were still children. Cel, who was actually funding Arthur’s private army, was the first link he had to break to catch him. Kleio carefully surveyed the situation.

‘Then, are you going to put pressure on them too?!’

Why had he changed his attitude now, in such a way? That wasn’t the prince’s way; it was neither economical nor elegant. Melchior did look somewhat unstable and distorted. His smile disappeared and reappeared, and his complexion was sickly pale. Mietsu intervened in between Cel and the prince.

“I don’t think it’s a good thing for the prince to treat a young student with vulgar words.”

Melchior’s chin rose arrogantly.

“I don’t think there is much I need to hear from Sir Michislav about saving face. Just think of Rosa Pehite’s feelings of anguish as she desperately searched for her only son’s whereabouts. How could you so heartlessly cut off any news for over twenty years?”

Kleio was surprised at the unexpected information. Mietsu, and everyone in the party, seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

‘What?! Mietsu was her son?! No, she was married before?’

Melchior’s bomb solved many questions at once.

‘It would be natural for him to learn from Professor Rosa’s son. Ha, that man, really…’

When Michislav no longer responded, Melchior naturally quieted down. But he could sense Kleio standing by the wall, and Arthur was outside banging a spear. Michislav sent out his colorless ether to the window with the back of his hand, subduing the sound of Arthur’s knocking. He was already engaged with Melchior, but he was trying to save his disciple from that. Mietsu’s judgment and actions were excellent.

‘Not today. Something would happen with this strange Melchior.’

The whites of Melchior’s eyes were tinged a beautiful yet bizarre pale pink.

“I can’t help but admire Sir Kleio, who is in charge of our future. You caught Pyton with Sir Arthur?”

Unexpected, the conversation turned to him. Kleio’s palms became sweaty, and he could feel the liquor he had pulsing through his veins. Since he was called out directly by the prince, it was difficult to back off. Mietsu’s expression was almost gloomy as he kept a hand on the window sill. Kleio took a step forward, becoming the line defending Mietsu.

“Yes, I was lucky.”

Kleio would’ve normally given credit to the others, but not in front of Melchior.

‘Nothing good will happen if that name is mentioned here.’

“It’s luck… Wouldn’t it be good if that luck were to be repeated? The news of your magic is spreading throughout the capital. Pyton was a fierce beast possessing a very rare mana stone, right?”

“Yes, it’s said to be a sleepy onyx.”

The moment Melchior heard that name, his eyes revealed complex emotions. Perception clearly captured the details, giving Kleio a great clue.

‘The prince’s real purpose is that onyx.’

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