The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

For an eternal peace (2)

“The balance hasn’t yet been tilted to one side. On the one hand, the life of purpose and hope that his colleagues gave him; on the other hand, there’s the mage of prophecy. Arthur knows that he would be betrayed no matter which side he chooses.”

Melchior silently approached Kleio, who was staring out the window. As Kleio turned his head, the prince brought his face beside him, looking out the cityscape view. Suddenly, the crown prince pushed the window upward as if to get a clearer view of the scenery as a gentle early summer breeze scattered his pale gold hair.

“…However, even after all this time has passed, seeing that the [Covenant] doesn’t reach me, it seems that he has refused the offer. He’s quite courageous to endure the handling of the director.”

He ran a hand over his scattered hair that shone like traces of sunlight. Kleio now knew that the crown prince’s words, tone, and content didn’t correspond to each other. He spoke mildly and savagely in the same way.

“Well, I like this much. At least once, I wanted him to know about the suffering of life. It seems that my origins haven’t been forgotten.”

Kleio turned to the prince.

“Do you know how the world will be distorted if you enforce the [Covenant] of unilateral loyalty to one who is the creator of history and who is deeply involved in this world’s security?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I do it when I can.”

The wind blew between them., the leaves of the street trees singing songs of early summer, and the water of the Tempus river sparkled like a blue mirror. Even the movements of the porter running with a bundle of paper tied to the back of his bicycle were cheerful. Birds flew to the west, and over the river, he could see the forest of the Defense Force’s school and the clock tower towering above it all. Despite what was happening in the dungeon at the north gate, the world outside the window was peaceful.

“That’s a look that blames me. Hopefully, you, too, could take all those memories and look back now if you lived eight times. Is that blame, right?”

Melchior looked at the sky beyond the window. Kleio considered it odd that even this place was under the customary belief that God dwelled in heaven.

“A narrative that looks at an event as a whole is only possible after it is all over. But history is always happening in the present, and shouldn’t the choices happen right now?”

Melchior let out a dry laugh, the violent madness he had been suppressing flashing on the surface of his eyes for but an instant.

“Perhaps, I’ll try to regret it in my next life.”

Kleio took a step back, overwhelmed by Melchior, as he hid his expression in the darkness of the room. The sun had trekked through the sky, and now the office was dark.

‘There’s no such thing as the next life.’

The goals set for him were clear, though Melchior didn’t know the truth. He had to prevent the early abolition of ether in this world. If the Door of Mnemosyne was closed and he couldn’t use the power of ether, Arthur’s journey would be broken. How would he lead humanity to victory? As soon as the previous manuscript, even after ether was abolished and the door closed, demons didn’t go completely extinct.

‘When demons appear in a world where no one possesses ether sensitivity….’

Even if Melchior died, his plans might still come to fruition. He wouldn’t let anything grow in God’s garden. Kleio’s head was full of calculations as Memory worked violently in order not to miss even a small detail or even an inconsequential metaphor. The conclusion was self-evident. Closing the door was presumed to be possible even by Melchior, who was under the influence of his madness.

‘…If so, am I supposed to help this guy not go mad right now?’

The man instructed secret police to tear his brother out of the bedroom in the middle of the night to torture him? Kleio, who faced him as one of the characters, couldn’t accept or understand all those actions. His hand burned as Separation continued to work overtime. Kleio struggled to push away his personal anger.

“What if I pledge to cooperate?”

He didn’t know if this were the right way, but this was the only hand Kleio could play against Melchior right now. The prince, still standing in the wind, turned slightly. His platinum hair wrapped around his face like a halo of light.

“How could I trust you… unless you make a [Covenant], which I doubt you’ll do.”

“I will never make a [Covenant] with anyone in my life. But I have already alleviated the pain of degrading myself. Trust me; I won’t lie to you.”

“Without a [Covenant], what can guarantee that?”

“I’m a person with a lot to lose.”

Laughter filled with ridicule filled the room, mixing with the sound of the wind. Melchior completely turned Kleio, his arm still resting on the windowsill.

“Hey, if I commit disloyalty, you may confiscate my lands and transfer them to the royal estate. At the current market price, it will be a substantial resource.”

Would a crown prince, who could even bring one of the other princes to a torture chamber, not be able to confiscate the lands of the owner of an honorary title? Kleio’s eyebrows fluttered. Even when Tasserton held a knife to his neck, it hadn’t felt this urgent.

“Yes, then you offered me relief. Thanks to that, I was able to achieve a lot. I’m grateful for that. Is that cooperation a promise to be willing to use your magic again and again?”

“Of course.”

“And I, to believe in that promise and to free Arthur in exchange… What an unfair offer.”

Kleio struggled to answer. All of this was caused by the will of God. What would happen if he expressed that resentment to Kleio, who lacked the authority to ask God for a reason?

It was then.

Knock, knock.

An urgent knock sounded on the office door. As the guards didn’t call out a title, it seemed not to be a guest. Soon, a dry voice could be heard outside the door.

“I know you are in an important meeting. Can I come in? It’s an emergency.”

“Come in.”

A tired-looking thirty-year-old man walked in, holding a rolled-up piece of paper. He looked breathless, making it clear the news was urgent and confidential.

‘This, maybe…’

“What is it?”

“First, I’d ask the guest to be dismissed.”

The man held back his report, waiting for Melchior to dismiss Kleio.

“It’s okay, just report it.”

“Then…”

“Isn’t it urgent, secretary Toulmin?”

The secretary’s hesitation didn’t last long. The man approached the table without noticing the broken cup and spread out the stack of papers. It was a copy of an article with an enlarged and blurred version of Fran’s picture. It was a scene of a Brunnen officer mercilessly attacking an Albion guard post. The small sheet of paper was extra to a newspaper. The symbol of the Swift newspaper was engraved at the top above a large headline.

-The Brunnen Invasion – Patriots, rise up! –

Kleio looked at the prints on the desk, hardening his face to hide his relief.

‘Cel pulled through!’

The timing was exquisite.

“I don’t believe I saw anything like this in the typesetting of the evening paper earlier.”

“It is an extra from a small newspaper that public officials don’t keep an eye on. As soon as it was distributed, news spread throughout the capital. If this is the case, it will become a huge obstacle to the ongoing operation.”

Kleio didn’t miss the clue.

‘Usually, the deadline for the evening newspaper was before noon. The major daily papers went through Melchior’s censorship before being printed.’

However, Swift wasn’t a major daily newspaper, and this wasn’t even an evening paper. The article, which had three misspelling and sparse spacing, was a reprint of the tip written by Kleio and Cel. Thanks to that, it was clear that it would spread through the capital at its current rate.

‘I’m really fortunate that there’s no one looking too closely at the errors.’

It doesn’t matter that the verification was messed up or the typesetting was poor – its sole purpose was to cause a disturbance. So long as that worked, his goal was accomplished. Melchior quickly grasped the contents and turned to the secretary.

“Exactly how much has it circulated?”

“It was attached to fifteen major plazas, including the Royal Circus, and the extras were scattered throughout the capital. Shall we issue an administrative order to withdraw?”

“What for? It’s a pointless intervention.”

Secretary Toulmin looked gloomy at Melchior’s exacting judgment. At that point, another person asked to enter the office. This time, it was a woman with her hair put up. She, too, came to report to Melchior.

“A crowd is gathering in front of the Brunnen embassy due to the spreading news. The police presence has been increased, but it is currently insufficient, and the Defense Forces have been put on hold. Please authorize it.”

Melchior sent the order calmly, without anger or excitement.

“Please pass it on to Sir Pierce Klagen. Select ten elite knights and dispatch them to the embassy. He also doesn’t want friction with Brunnen, so he’ll follow this order.”

“Yes.”

The woman left as quickly as she had entered as Melchior started to instruct the remaining person.

“Send a message to Director Driscoll. As new information has been received on the matter as of 14:00 today, please stop the interrogation of those involved in the alleged treason. All others will be let free of their house arrest.”

“By your command.”

Secretary Toulmin, his head bowed, vanished from the office a moment after. Kleio suddenly felt comfortable breathing. He hadn’t realized it, but up until now, it had felt like the pressure was bearing down on his lungs.

Still, without a sign of rush, Melchior picked up the extra off the table. The sentences alongside the photo provoked emotions, displaying Brunnen’s noble as an arrogant and cruel warlord that devastated the border post.

‘Now, there’s no reason to hold Viscount Kision.’

If Brunnen had provoked them, then Kision’s actions to increase his forces, though somewhat illegal, were now convincing. When those charges were resolved, Arthur would also be released. So, Melchior had ceased the interrogation right away.

‘Because the press caught the scent, he quickly released the kids before an article appeared. His judgment is swift.’

With the capital and council’s eyes on the Kision estate, it would be challenging to maintain the blockade. Melchior himself knew that the cause was weak for what he had done.

“Schliemann Kision is lucky. His every excuse fits in such a ridiculous way. I guess God doesn’t want those who are favored to suffer more.”

The one-page extra fell out of the prince’s hand to the floor. Only then did he realize that Kleio had snatched the advantage.