The Editor Is the Novel’s Extra

It is only a night of rest given after two busy days in the spotlight.

Arthur, who was walking along the River Tempus to break the booze, felt a distant patrol of the Capital Defense Corps.

I wanted to avoid trouble.

Arthur took his steps toward the Asher mansion.

Now I could see the familiar wall. He went over and hid himself.

The quiet garden of the darkened mansion was a great place to organize your thoughts.

Arthur Rignan is still not sure that his choice was right.

The illusion and foreboding that had been sandwiched between him and the world had faded.

Every new day without any defense was both joy and fear.

He thinks about Clayo.

A few days ago, I passed the back of this garden. At first glance, Clayo still couldn't open his eyes, so he came back.

Especially, he didn't hide his energy and was not very short, but his friend who closed his eyes had a strange presence.

The shaking of the world is reduced to a fixed point of existence with that sparse materiality. From there, the repetition stops and the old situation becomes fresh.

Arthur now knows that change is pain and novelty does not necessarily mean joy.

With the evidence that God chose him over his bloodstained hand, Clay silently endured hardship.

Clayo awakens Arthur's own helplessness in the way of the never-before-seen. through the first events

I realized when I was forced to commit to Melchior in an underground prison under the north gate.

The truth was a little different from Clayo's elation.

If Melchior had been given a few more days, Arthur would have had to choose between Clayo's safety and his beliefs.

This time, fortunately, I was able to enjoy the good fortune of postponing the choice, but even he was not entirely lucky. It was just a breakthrough made by friends at risk.

It was a really strange and unfamiliar experience, which impressed Arthur.

He recounts the convenience of future memories, given through vision.

Brothers will one day shed more negative blood in the future.

However, he failed to stop the blood from flowing unjustly at present.

It was no longer reassuring to follow the familiar process.

His growth was too slow.

a small alliance of student status, near penniless property, and only good faith and covenant

Even so, I didn't feel inadequate before meeting Clayo.

Training swords, gaining the support of the frontier bags, training as commanders, mastering geography and geography... At the end, he thought the crown would be in his possession.

It was not a desperate wish, but rather a natural sequence.

The crown was no different from old clothes, used swords, and long shoes. of no particular use in place

In the near future, there will be a war between the two rivers.

There is a civil war between the two princes, washing their blood with blood. But neither prince can live and taste the victory.

Thus, the crown and sword will be given to the only Prince of Albion who survived the war.

The denunciation of being king because he just survived has never been common to Arthur.

Survival he knew was neither a natural condition nor a light mockery. Life was the most difficult thing to win without submission and to protect without compromise.

A faintly broken past, or a slightly younger or older face in the future, he did not know any submission or compromise.

It was a natural rule, as the river always had to flow upstream and downstream.

Those old memories of the future have been the shackles of Arthur's life and a guide to the dark path.

There was no other way, so following his inner constellation gave him confidence and certainty.

But now the light is shining in the middle of its complete darkness, and light makes us perceive things and the world in a completely different way than before.

The conviction that you had, perhaps many times, is always broken by clay, and renewed by it.

In the anxiety brought by novelty, Arthur sees the desolate wilderness revealed under the twilight, and the bloodstains hanging down the road.

Colleagues' hardships will be rewarded later with a bigger prize, and dishonor will later be raised to a higher honor.

I know it will.

but

Isiel, who was firmly following him, lost his whole home.

Can the loss be compensated by restoration?

The statues containing the memories of Isiel and his wife Kishion were also destroyed, and Arthur and John, who regarded Isiel as beautiful as their grandchildren, died.

by Melchior's authorization of excessive suppression rather than the actual sin of Kishion's self-creation with the aim of forcing Arthur to make a covenant.

Even though the Kishion had been released, purchased the stone to rebuild the wall, and the injured had been healed, and a carefully carved tombstone had been erected for the dead, what had already happened.

On a night when he could no longer sleep, Arthur and Isiel used to share swords in the dark. They let things slip that they can't say.

Arthur asked, looking into the sword, which could stretch out as much as his height but still could not protect anything.

Are you the right person to devote your life to other people's full support?

What is the benefit of Clayo's company, which does not want awards and honors, but is solely dependent on God's will?

Even if you swing the sword a thousand times or ten thousand times, there is no clear answer.

Even if it exists, it will not be the answer to the affirmative.

In the past, he wanted to be a king to make his mother's prophecy truly reborn.

The prophecy that has been fulfilled in any way becomes true.

But now Arthur knows.

The mother was a real prophet, and her truth was self-evident, without having to be proved.

The night on Tristane's estate cleared all his doubts. Arthur fully believes in his mother.

Mother foretold the existence of Clayo Asher in his life.

And he came, and did God's work.

Therefore, for Arthur, the throne had to be more than just the proven truth.

The weight was not comparable to the weight of the sword in the hand, which was skinned from the process of developing calluses again.

Arthur looks down at his fingernails, which are just raised and short and crumpled.

At that time, Clayo's "healing" and "supervisor" in the reception room of the royal family were so magical that the poet immediately exhausted.

Clayo, who barely escaped faint, called the carriage with a pale face, saying, "What if the suspect, who is identified, falls down?"

Clayo, who was riding in the carriage, never talked about it again.

As such, the pain has passed, and the words that Beth Na heard during the night underground cannot be erased from her mind.

Maybe Clayo had to go through the hardships.

At that time, there was a terrible sense of nervousness and desperation. It was a very unfamiliar feeling to Arthur.

I also think that I have lived in the struggle for survival all my life, but I have not fully understood Melchior so far.

The half-blooded existence was perhaps even more desperate than he was. He did everything he could to achieve his goal.

It was not until this point that I realized that the same blood was flowing to me.

It was sincere to say that he wanted to look into the plight of servants and maidens, but he did not follow only altruism.

preaching the values of equality and justice

To speak for the voices of those who cannot be represented.

It was not Arthur's most important purpose to determine whether the committee's decision was right or wrong. The decision was made after measuring the effectiveness of the action first.

In the past few years, Arthur has had a day's school life and a night's street life.

For Arthur, who was poor but had little inequality, but grew up in a changed military camp where people were for each other, the capital was like a separate world.

After he came to Seoul at the age of 17, there were no pubs that he had not stopped by in every alley and no land he had not stepped on with his two feet.

Arthur opened his ears anytime, anywhere.

Because I remembered my mother's advice.

The voice of the times is not as clear as the sign of God, but the direction of the great flow can never be mistaken.

He heard a white-clad theologian and a black-clad jurist discussing the inevitability of progress in a coffeehouse at 3:00 a.m.

Theological student argued that the era of kings and emperors will come to an end, and that the century will come when all human beings born choose their own leaders.

Under God, we are all equal, and it is reasonable for even those who have chosen and blessed to be tested for the authority of governance.

However, the law student refuted the theology student's argument.

Our challenge is to stipulate first that sovereignty does not come from the miracle of solar eclipse.

The delegation of the people is sacred and the government should be formed under the Constitution of the Bible, which is legislated by the parliament representing all citizens.

The two even had a fistfight in the end as their voices intensified.

The chair broke and the table sank. The glass broke and the pot flew.

Arthur was used to it.

Despite the suppression of the abolitionists, new-faced black-clad youths appeared in coffeehouses every year.

Early in the morning, when he was bending his head away from a tin pot flying toward a law student in a powerful parabola, Arthur recalled a moment in the past that was as clear as the future.

'Those who are firm in faith don't even get excited. First of all, it's the side where one's faith begins to waver..’

One of the sudden vivid memories of the night on the land of Tristane is the day I was going out with my mother.

The rise of memory felt like a kind of revelation.

By the time he was four years old, the front and back situation, which was originally blurred, became as clear as a polished glass.

At that time, Arthur learned the word 'opportunity' before the word 'sex'.

The vocabulary list of children raised in the palace is despicable. Arthur was young, but he was fully aware that the meaningless word was meant to insult his mother.

The goddess, who had her brown hair up like a flower crown, blocked the front of Theophila, who held only her son in one arm, as she had nothing to do with her leaving the palace.

Her name is Beth or Driscoll. The man who will torture himself in the distant future.

Looking back, Bessna was desperate to hurt Theophila.

I can't understand that Theophila, who has always been a heretic, owns God's blessing, not himself who obeys the rules neatly.

"I don't think the goddess made you the most blessed daughter to carry your head around with a child from the union.”

"Bena, you poor girl. What do you think is God's blessing? Do you know it's under the church's law to run human instruments on the planet Earth?"

Her mother, Theophila, used a commoner's accent, but the language was elegant and had a clear, low-pitched voice in the crowd.

Mother's words, now that I think about it, always sounded like a revelation, which made some kind of people uncomfortable. Especially for those who drove her into a frenzy.

"Are you trying to define Goddess Blessings in a way that is different from the Church's agreement? It's the logic of the one who abandoned God."

As the story lengthened, Arthur turned his head and looked at the little newcomer. Even the young Arthur felt a sense of passion and nervousness in her eyes.

Although he used God as an excuse doctrinal, it was possible to see that the person who truly lost his faith was not his mother but his or her.

My mother never doubted the goddess's presence in her life.

With a spirit that looks ahead of the world.

"The goddess pitys the crowds of people who walk blind in the darkness, and she makes one of them a guide. A humble staff set up to help those who grope for a narrow path between rough roots and remote swamps reach an inevitable conclusion. That's divine power."

Arthur was held in his mother's wide arms, so he could see his mother's big box beating with the vibrations that touched his body.

Theophila has a good look like Arthur.

He was tall, his back was straight, his golden blonde hair, and his eyes were as deep as the sea in the open sea.

Even until Arthur, who was stronger than his age, grew up a long time ago, his mother would lift him with one arm. She was as beautiful as a lion.

"Ha, I can't imagine you were once considered the next archbishop. Is this why God's blessing was forced to leave us?"

Theofila stepped one foot gently as Bessna rarely stepped out of the door. The little girl flinched, but she was not pushed out of confrontation.

Finally, my mother gently raised her left hand.

There was no light or sound.

However, I could see instinctively that he would use the 'trace' of divine power.

"Little Beth-na, don't blame others for your distrust. Your faith will come to you in this life. God doesn't have to be the only object of faith."

"You've done this again...!”

The voice of the new girl, who was nervous but calm, was sharply divided.

The air in the room became mild and refreshing to breathe. Arthur liked the space full of sanctity. It feels like my mother's arms have become stronger and more cozy.

Unlike the hysterical response, Beth-na was also surrounded by warm energy, releasing wrinkles in her brows and correcting her twisted mouth evenly.

Bethna quickly took a few steps back and made way for Theophila's hat. She disappeared the way she had come without laughing or crying.