The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

The kingship of the gods (2)

The royal advisory committee was held in the conference room with the best view. Even though it was attached to the crown prince’s office with a door in-between, the decorations large table in the middle of the meeting room decorated with gold and red silk. The table had ten seats on each side, for a total of twenty seats. The twenty royal advisors were selected from the noble houses and the commonwealth. It was written in the manuscript that the committee existed to add objectivity to the king’s choice, who had a third of the voting rights in addition to the commoners and nobles.

‘It’s a strange country. Most of the tax rights have passed to parliament, so it’s more or less a completely modern state, though the king’s political authority remains.’

On the narrow side of the table, the uppermost seat was covered with velvet and had a gold-lion carved into it that was the king’s seat. Since Prince Melchior was not yet the king, he sat on a chair to the right. None doubted that the king’s throne was prepared for Melchior, however.

‘It looks like a theater stage tailored to Melchior.’

Kleio, guided by the attendant, waited on a bench by the sidewall prepared for temporary attendees. The first chair on the left of the table, the reserved seat for the chairman Beaton, was the first to come.

“Chairman Beaton, you’ve hurried today.”

“It is the natural duty of the members, crown prince.”

The man used a cane to walk, having some apparent discomfort in his legs. It seemed this man was Benjamin Beaton. He had a modest appearance but a definite sense of integrity.

‘He’s the politician who has been the chairman for sixteen years. He’s also the youngest son of the Beaton company. They’re pretty wealthy in the steel industry… He’ll end up supporting Arthur later.’

It was natural that the chairman had been born with a golden spoon, as well. He was a good speaker that naturally occupied the 100-seat elected council. In terms of wealth alone, the 100 nobles weren’t more affluent than the ordinary bourgeoisie, but they benefited from reduced rent taken from their estates. He had heard that was a spark of conflict. While Kleio recounted the situation of Albion he had learned from reading the newspaper, the meeting began. The Duke Cruel, chairman of the nobles, appeared after a while, brazenly bringing out an aggressive plan.

“The construction of Orails railway station is coming along. The input funds have increased significantly from the amount originally calculated. Is it worth investing that much in the transportation facility for the tiplaum mine?”

Kleio opened his ears and listened eagerly to the meeting.

‘In Albion, the products and taxes from the royal lands belong to the royal family. Cruel doesn’t like that.’

The royal family’s income wasn’t a politically meaningful amount as it was about the cost of maintaining the royal family’s dignity.

‘But when the only tiplaum mine on the continent becomes theirs, the balance will be shaken. Cruel won’t like Melchior having a monopoly on the mine.’

This was an evident struggle to take control.

“That’s right. The issues there haven’t yet been resolved, but the resources of state-run railroad companies are too much early on.”

Like Cruel, Count Ramsdale, one of Aslan’s men, spoke up. Beaton spoke up with a cold expression.

“Well, Duke, compared to the additional expenses of the Southeast Defense Forces last quarter, the increase in labor costs due to the extension of the construction of the train station doesn’t seem to be a big waste. Why on earth did you need a steamship that runs back the river?”

“Because the movement of the Carolinger kingdom over the Klotho river needs to be monitored. You make fun without knowing about the military.”

As the quarrel intensified, the handwork of the clerk of congress short-handing the minutes began to accelerate. During the fight, Melchior listened with a faint smile. It was clear that this table was a battlefield in which noblemen and commoners clashed.

‘Although the manuscript said that King Philippe was sick of the nobility’s prestige… even with the king’s deputy here, it’s a bad game. Tsk.’

“Now, both of you, let’s calm down.”

The prince stood up and looked around. It seemed to be a light movement, but his intent was not. Kleio shrugged off the sudden oppressive energy as Melchior’s unique skill began to dominate the entire conference room. Understanding was automatically activated.

[Unique skill: The charm of □□□]

[―Gives users a strong charm to gain love and admiration.

―Grants strong convincing power to the user’s voice

User: Melchior Reignan]

At the same time, Promise neutralized the skill, expressing its power to the maximum. The ring on his index finger grew hot as if it were overloading, and Kleio struggled in order not to reveal his pain. Even the Promise, which seemed insurmountable, revealed its limits in front of Melchior’s ability.

“If we can keep the ether active, tiplaum is a mineral that will change Albion’s future.”

The moment Melchior opened his mouth, all the lawmakers grew silent like a flock of lambs.

“The investment so far hasn’t been excessive. Here is a document from the mining bureau. I have a copy for each of you, so check it out, and you’ll understand what I mean.”

Even though it was a dry transmission of information, the words leaving Melchior’s mouth sounded as sweet as poetry.

“Sure, I see.”

The Duke had suddenly become meek as he sat down quietly despite his previous outbursts. The attitude of those looking at the documents was polite, like a group of students. The twenty lawmakers began to flip through the reports before them, like Melchior’s words had been a declaration from God. It was evident that only Kleio, who was sitting against the wall with sweat beading on his forehead, had a good understanding of what was happening.

‘It’s no joke. He persuaded them with such a skill.’

As he had thought before, were he a television or radio broadcaster, none would’ve been capable of surpassing Melchior. He would’ve become the elected head of state without the need for a throne.

‘…Or a dictator.’

At the start of the meeting, the Duke, who was full of willingness to spurn Melchior, nodded along like the prince had a great plan. Those who encountered the crown prince quickly succumbed to his will. Kleio watched that happening before him as his heart was squeezed by the prince’s fearful power.

‘Is he showing this power to make me afraid even though it doesn’t work on me? Either way, Melchior isn’t behind Aslan when it comes to insidiousness.’

The clerk continued once they were done speaking.

“After that, the wizard Kleio Asel will testify about defeating the demon that recently appeared. This testimony will factor into the establishment of the guard plan for the Door of Mnemosyne.”

Kleio stood in front of the table and described the creature he had fought. After finishing his testimony, he walked to the King’s Hall, where his medal was to be awarded. The attendant said that he would guide him, but the crown prince waved him off and said he would do it himself. Kleio, feeling dead inside, had to follow the crown prince without a chance of rejecting him. The royal palace and the parliament were connected by a long corridor. The crown prince greeted the lawmakers and staff by name as they moved through the building.

“Miss Emily, you’re working hard today.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Kleio, following behind the crown prince, turned on Understanding in disbelief. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a unique skill. Melchior had genuinely memorized their names.

‘The prince has some good memory. His ether level is also level 4. Ha, he is talented.’

If it weren’t for the incident that had happened in the last manuscript, Melchior would’ve become a great monarch.

‘But the author doesn’t choose Melchior.’

In the previous world, Jungjin had never believed in God, but he knew that God was real in this world. It was the one who wrote all these words; the author who created a world of letters. Therefore, to be the protagonist of the narrative here means to be chosen by God. Such a fate had power beyond reason or worthiness.

‘Because the world exists to fulfill the character’s fate, whether he falls as a wicked man or is revered as a hero.’

In -The Prince of Albion Kingdom-, the role given to Melchior was to leave three sons and vanish. No other interpretations were permitted in this manuscript, as the fundamental text that formed the world couldn’t be rewritten by the reader. Kleio’s mind felt complicated; however, facing Melchior’s excessive charm and unique skill. If you had lived the same life eight times, did it make sense to explore where he originally came from or who he was? Aside from the problems outside the work, Melchior was problematic even as a single character.

‘Will the character that has developed such complexity up until this point leave at the right time according to the author’s will? Even if he does, is that what the author wants?’

That didn’t seem to be the case at all. Besides, it was evident that Kleio had to deal with the situation. A deep sigh came out of it. It was unlikely his future would be smooth.

“Kleio?”

“Yes… Yes?”

“Are you injured or tired?”

“No…”

“I thought we should take a break since you slowed down.”

“Not at all! The time for the ceremony has been set; how could I delay?”

“It’s okay if you don’t push yourself too hard. You’re not like Arthur, and you often use a tone like an elderly person.”

“…I hear that often.”

Anyone watching would see it as the compassionate prince talking to the boy hero, but what was held under that smile was cold, calculating, and persistent searching. Even though he hadn’t taken off Separation, he felt like his head was open, and goosebumps formed on his arms.

‘Why is this passage so long?’

The awkward companionship ended after what seemed like an eternity. Melchior informed him that the distance had been shortened by going through the inner passage rather than the general entrance. Unlike his vague imagination, the King’s Hall, where the coronation of the Riognan royal family took place, was a crudely styled hall. It was the first part of the palace to be built, and over the course of a thousand years, the floor had been worn down by human steps, and the reliefs on the walls had been broken. Here, over a decade ago, Arthur’s suffering had begun. It was the place where he shouted he would have the crown, and it was the place where -The Prince of the Albion Kingdom- would end. After reading the manuscript several times, it felt oddly familiar.

“Is this your first time in the King’s Hall?”

“That’s right.”

“How is it?”

“Well, compared to what I thought… It’s simple.”

“Hahaha, it’s easy to imagine a splendid appearance for those who don’t know. No photographs or illustrations of it appear in the newspaper. Do you know why?”

“It’s because it is a sacred place where the sarcophagus of King Leonid the first was enshrined.”

“Indeed, you know your history well.”

Melchior tenderly patted his back like he was praising a younger brother. To Kleio, it felt like he was being stabbed in the back.

‘I’ll have to read the manuscript thoroughly if I want to live… What should I do?’

The royal courtroom finally saved him.

“Crown prince, wizard Kleio Asel. Preparation for the ceremony is complete. From now on, please follow my instructions and stand in front of the altar at the seat marked with black stone.”