The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

Albion’s Pastoral House (6)

The next morning, Kleio woke early and went into the bathroom. In the dim light of a small gas lamp, he cut his hair with the office scissors he found on his desk.

In Brunnen, it was still the norm to grow out one’s hair, but in Albion, it was common to comb the front hair back and shave the back of one’s head. It wasn’t usual for someone to grow their hair down to the shoulders, but Kleio had let his hair grow long due to a lack of effort.

‘How did I let it grow this long? It’s almost as long as the hair of the crown prince.’

His brittle platinum hair slightly above the shoulder line looked so natural that he had thought it normal in this world. Even after Dione corrected that illusion, he hadn’t cared while he was stuck in the military camp.

However, if he planned to go outside now, it would be better to look unassuming. The snipping of the scissors sounded grim as his hair fell to the floor. Behemoth wagged his tail as he watched.

“Your dexterity isn’t even half that Cel’s; even a mouse could do better.”

“Done. If I wear a hat, no one would notice my hair at all. I need it to be short enough to be hidden under a hat.”

“If you cut off your hair, won’t your gaunt cheeks stand out?”

“Is that important now?”

“Won’t Lady Dione be sad?”

The cat seemed worried over Dione’s sadness even in the face of such an urgent situation. Kleio wetted his hair, pushed it back, and opened his closet. One day, he had gone with the others around a charity shop around the mansion, buying some old clothes and a hat to wear, alongside a suitcase to carry it all. He wore an old bowler hat with a brown corduroy suit that wasn’t the right size.

‘It was for a dance for the May Ball. Lippi and Leticia must be sorry they will likely miss it.’

The school held a prom and party every year in May after the midterm exam, named the May Ball. During it, students performed plays and songs. Last year, they had all had a good night. But in the current situation, it was unclear if they would be able to return to school, much less in time for the school event.

‘Anyway, this disguise should be enough.’

He stowed his wallet and wand in his clothes, alongside twenty 100-dinar bills for emergency use and twenty Aurum gold coins. With those safely tucked away, he searched his drawers for anything else useful. Most of his mana stones had been moved over to the school lab, and his summer garden coat was in the dorm, so he found no valuables in them. However, what was worth something was the magic tool he had prepared for copying Professor Maria’s manuscript, which used copper ore powder to duplicate documents. He stowed those away in his bag. He also threw in a pen and ink, as well as a letter opener and his scissors. All of the items that furnished the Asel mansion were of high quality.

‘Mana stones aren’t going to be of much use in a back-alley pawnshop. It’s better to exchange miscellaneous goods for money.’

Kleio carefully opened his terrace door and snuck out, the cold breeze of dawn winding past his neck. Standing on the patio, he looked back into his bedroom with regret in his eyes.

‘Now, if I leave like this, I will have nothing to say even if Gideon blotted my name out of the family register…’

Mrs. Canton’s loving and kind care, Gael’s Tristein-style cuisine, and the liquor collected in the wine cellar… Kleio would miss all of it.

If things went wrong and he became a fugitive, he would likely never see it again. Kleio firmly gripped his heart. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such things. Closing his eyes, opening his circle, he applied the [Deceleration][Soundproof] magic formula. His circle was opened small to control the amount of ether he was using. As soon as his light body landed at the bottom of the terrace, he extinguished the magic.

Soon after, Behemoth descended as well with a grace unsuited for his huge body. Kleio carefully checked one more to see if the note to be delivered to Cel was tied snugly in his ribbon.

‘It’s solid. Good.’

The only one he could rely on was Cel.

‘Isiel’s position is too bad to accomplish this.’

The Melamide manor, Isiel’s family on her mother’s side, was located far from the capital. And, although not the formal successor, she was the daughter of the Viscount charged with treason. Surveillance would be heavy, and her temper didn’t match well with spy-like activities.

‘But Cel is different.’

Camellia hall wasn’t far, and there was a good chance she could sneak out. So, he sent her the message. It would be much better to have someone that resourceful helping out.

“Then, see you later.”

“You must take care of yourself. Tsk.”

Behemoth buried his snout into Kleio’s neck, sniffing him once more. Kleio hugged the giant bundle of fur back.

“Please come to me. I’ll catch a train near the central station after 3 PM.”

“Don’t worry. Do you think this cat can’t even do that?”

They soon left the gardens, splitting up when they reached the dark night streets of Lundane.

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The mailbox he received letters from Fran with, at the commercial office in the south end of the Schola district, changed frequently. Kleio walked all night towards the Schola district. Even though he was taller than before and had been working some on his physical strength, he was still weak, so it didn’t take long for the soles of his feet and his back to start aching. But while Arthur was being detained, he couldn’t sit down. He moved on foot, needing to reduce witnesses as much as possible.

‘I’m being tracked by both the secret intelligence service and Baronet Asel… Have I become a great person?’

Lundane was busy, even though it was only dawn. There was quite a lot of traffic on the streets and carriages carting luggage darted around. He walked diligently to test the limits of his physical strength, but it wasn’t until 6 AM that he reached his destination. Because it specialized in commercial mail, the post office was open 24 hours a day, manned by a shabbily dressed staff running around in the back. Everyone was tired, which meant they paid less attention. Kleio naturally mixed in with the visitors to check his mailbox. Fran’s letter came in without fail like always, an express stamp right on the envelope.

‘The envelope is thick, so he must’ve found something.’

Instead of checking the contents, Kleio hid the letter in his chest and took the first train to the central station. After reviewing the timetable, he purchased a ticket for Novantes departing in eight minutes. It wasn’t the vacation season, so the train to the resort wasn’t that busy. He could only hear the snoring of another passenger in his carriage as the train departed.

Only then, with a slight sense of relief, did Kleio infuse ether into the envelope to pry it open. There were three photos inside along with a letter. As Kleio looked through the contents, he had to force back the shout that almost unconsciously left him. It was an unexpected breakthrough to solve the current situation. The photographs held pictures of prisoners of war in Brunnen uniforms, a torn and completely shattered guard post with the flag of Albion, and an assailant raging over the base.

‘No demons, but these pictures of humans are rewarding. This is the solution.’

It was tremendous information on the date the letter was sent. It was the result of an attack by the Brunnen soldiers at the Kision guard post.

‘Who would’ve known that Brunnen would breach the border for the first time in decades at this moment? That’s why Fran was able to discover the site without being noticed.’

The train’s horn blared, sounding to Kleio like a salvation bell.

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After leaving Lundane, he passed by three more stations before quickly getting off before leaving the greater Lundane area. The last reckless escape had also been fruitful. In the spring of his first year, Kleio had been caught by a train station inspector that Baronet Asel’s investigators found. It had been suspicious that he had gotten off at an earlier stop at a crewed station. So, he chose a crewless station this time. It had been helpful to look at the list of crewless stations while he visited Novantes to participate before.

‘What would it have been like if I didn’t have Memory?’

Indeed, thanks to that, he was able to imitate the contents of the Cold War spy novel he read as a teenager.

‘It was fun to read it in a book, but if I mess up here, I’ll die.’

Being careful not to fall asleep, he got off on his preplanned station. Kleio looked around, staying on the platform as he pretended to check the station clock and train timetable. Fortunately, there was no one about. He headed to the bathroom, changing out of his brown corduroy into a gray tweed jacket he had in his suitcase. Then, he went back to the other side’s platform and headed back to Lundane central station.

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By the time afternoon came about, Kleio was once again standing at the central station platform. He confirmed no one was tailing him before he went into a general store. Even while he purchased some commonly used letterheads and envelopes, he didn’t see any signs of being followed.

‘Nobody appears to be sticking to me.’

Kleio left out of the other general store door, grasping the handle of his old bag as he wandered around the station square. Instead of a tail, an inn’s barker approached him as Kleio was hoping.

“Hey! Seeing you come out of the square exit, you must be from the north! Are you looking for an inn to stay at? Are you a participant in the hospitality industry’s meeting?”

“Yeah… Yes.”

“Come to our Red Rooster Inn. It’s close to the station, and the breakfast is awesome!”

“Then… please do. Before that, let me write a message on the station’s bulletin board.”

“Oh, you must be meeting someone! Is it your lover?! Huh?!”

“Well, that… Not like that.”

Kleio pretended to be from the country as he wrote the inn’s name on the bulletin board, noting it as the place where Mr. Opener stayed. The solicitor urged Kleio quickly to the inn, and soon they arrived there. It was a dirty and old building with no other guests. He even made an advance payment at 30 dinars higher than the market price. Opening the guestbook, he wrote down the name Opener.

“Soon, another customer will come looking for me… Please send them up.”

The innkeeper patted Kleio on the back as if he thought he was secretly meeting some lover living in the city.

“No worries, bachelor. Is your name Opener? I’ll send them up.”

Kleio left the innkeeper to his misunderstandings, which was perfect for his purposes. He climbed the dusty creaking stairs to find his room on the second floor. As he could see from the vacancies, the inn facility was a mess. The sheets were crumpled, and the room had a faintly unpleasant stench. Still, it was the perfect environment for Kleio.

‘I can definitely avoid others’ eyes here.’

The note he had left on the bulletin board to avoid the solicitor’s suspicion wasn’t necessary. Behemoth would be able to find Kleio by scent, so he could prepare a meeting without specifying the location.

‘After this, I should buy him a vineyard, not a barrel.’

After he closed the door, Kleio looked over Fran’s letter once more. The small photo frame was displayed, clearly marking the watchtower at the Absalom Barrier. It was apparent the sword of a knight had cut the thick stone wall. A corpse of a Brunnen soldier lying amid a fierce battle, and a Brunnen officer captured by injured Albion knights.

‘Light gray military uniform, insignia, military cap, and long hair… He’s a noble officer of Brunnen.’

The battle was not between Brunnen and Kision’s knights but with Tristein’s. Fran had noted them as knights in dark blue armor.

‘A knight in Brunnen uniform and one with Hydra poison attacked the guard post in Kision and now is in Tasserton’s hands.’

It could turn the entire situation over. However, Duke Tristein was likely to destroy all evidence as quickly as possible, depending on Melchior’s judgment. Before the Duke could cover it all up, the case had to be made public.

‘This can get rid of the treason charges.’

Gideon’s words from a day ago echoed in his mind.

‘It is impossible to save Arthur unless Brunnen invaded right now.’

Right now, the opportunity to turn the impossible possible was in his hands.