Chapter 1: The Kind, Beautiful World Promised By Beautiful, Kind Queen Mary

Chapter 1: The Kind, Beautiful World Promised By Beautiful, Kind Queen Mary

CHAPTER 1

THE KIND, BEAUTIFUL WORLD PROMISED BY BEAUTIFUL, KIND QUEEN MARY

“You’re just a Mascot in the end. Why would you feel responsible for the Eighty-Six? For mere soldiers?”

If she truly was nothing but a Mascot, she wouldn’t need to shoulder this responsibility.

When she was offhandedly asked that question, Frederica thought that the time had finally come. The Imperial house Adel-Adler had been reduced to mere puppet rulers and rarely showed themselves to the low-ranking nobles, to say nothing of the commoners. Since her father, the emperor, died and she was enthroned when she was still an infant, it was only natural a national of another country wouldn’t recognize her for who she truly was.

But the serpent facing her now was the Amethystus of House Idinarohk, his Esper powers blessing him with wisdom and insight that bordered on the supernatural. Frederica wasn’t naive or optimistic enough to believe she could keep her secret from him forever.

So she faced him carefully, maintaining a mask of composure to keep him from noticing.

“I…”

On paper, Frederica’s background held that she was the illegitimate child of a powerful noble. The Empire’s nobility abhorred children of mixed blood, so her family never publicly acknowledged her, but as a noble daughter, she was given a fine education. She was placed under the care of the president, Ernst Zimmerman, by one of the nobles who sponsored him, and at her birth family’s wishes, she was sent to the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package, which doubled as both an elite unit and a propaganda booster.

Frederica prepared to say out loud the answer she’d prepared ahead of time based on this false background. The kind of answer one would expect of the daughter of a militaristic Imperial noble.

“I, Frederica Rosenfort, am the sole Imperial noble in this Strike Package. Even if my ancestors do not acknowledge me, I shall uphold the pride of this country’s nobility and stand upon the field to lead the soldiers into battle. Mascot though I may be, I am still a soldier, and maintaining morale is my sovereign duty.”

Vika blinked once. “I see. So you have circumstances you can’t disclose.”

“…!”

“Letting slip something you weren’t asked is akin to openly admitting to a fabrication… You’re a bad liar.”

This time, it was Frederica’s turn to be left speechless. Vika eyed her coldly as the color drained from her face. She wore her heart on her sleeve. All he had to do was rattle her a bit, and she immediately went pale. Did one really need to steel themselves so much just to tell a single lie?

If she was truly born to nobility, then she would have been properly trained since infancy to control her emotions and expression, but Frederica looked like she’d never received any such lessons. And if her birth family didn’t regard her highly enough to teach her such things, her circumstances were probably not as important as Frederica thought or as Vika had suspected.

“Well,” he began, “I can’t say I care all that much about your situation, so I will leave things at that. However…”

The serpent prince made to continue, but then he cocked his head. Come to think of it, Frederica was awfully close to Shin—a Republic native, perhaps, but still the direct descent of Marquis Nouzen. If she was born as an offshoot of that bloodline, she may have mistakenly assumed the might and duty of House Nouzen were her own. If so…

“…what are you trying to protect? The soldiers, or your own conscience, which dreads abandoning and hurting them?”

“I… I…”

“You must know to make that distinction. If fear of betraying your conscience leads you to insist on becoming involved when you lack the power to protect them, and your attempts to help fail and only result in you running away, then you’d have been better off abandoning them in the first place.”

<<No Face to Area Network.>>

Just as in the first large-scale offensive, looking at the ruins of his motherland stirred no emotion in him.

As the sight of the burning national army headquarters once again reflected in his optical sensor, this thought crossed the mind of the Dinosauria designated as No Face—the Shepherd once known as Václav Milizé.

His fuselage and turret had their backs to the statue of Saint Magnolia, which crumbled in the flames.

<<All areas of the Republic of San Magnolia successfully seized. All phases of Operation Passionis are now complete.>>

Seemingly content with this outcome, the surrounding commander units turned their optical sensors toward No Face. All of them were Dinosauria possessed by the hateful conviction of child soldiers, converted into vengeful Legion.

Once, they were known as Eighty-Six. But their new name was—

<<No Face to all commander units in Area Network—addressing all Agnus.>>

Using data gathered from the prototype High Mobility type developed by Zelene Birkenbaum—Codename Mistress—and the experiments involving the offensive amphibious battleship type, Schwertwal, and the surface battleship type, Ferdinand, the commander units were able to achieve immortality. They had ascended to become Agnus, unkillable by the blades of humankind and capable of rising after death.

<<For the sake of annihilating the remaining bastions of human influence, the next operation will now commence. First Area Network is tasked with working toward the conquest of the Federal Republic of Giad by gathering information from surviving Republic forces.>>

Despite it being well after bedtime, Lena wasn’t able to sleep. She sat in front of the desk in her room, dressed in a shawl and negligee, her mind buzzing with thought after incessant thought.

The Strike Package’s home base, Rüstkammer, was no longer safe. At this time of night, all the curtains had to be completely closed, and with a blackout in effect, the office was quite dark. Now that everyone was fast asleep, the base’s atmosphere was somehow suffocating, and TP sat sleepily under the desk lamp’s light, clearly irritated. Lena regarded the cat with a strained smile.

“…You could just go to sleep, you know.”

The cat meowed at her, likely in denial, as if to say it didn’t wish to sleep without her, or would be too anxious to get any rest, or something to that effect. The spoiled black cat blinked its green eyes at her. Patting it lovingly on the head, Lena sank back into her winding thoughts.

A burning train. Screaming and yelling and the color of flames. Her homeland, the Republic of San Magnolia, sealed off and converted into a decadent banquet of vengeance. Republic citizens fleeing into the Gran Mur for safety. Gunshots roaring in applause. Embers billowing up like campfire. The crumbled fortress walls she couldn’t save, that she abandoned, that she left for dead. The colors of fire and blood. The voices of hatred and resentment. Flocks of Liquid Micromachine butterflies, soaring up to the sky like they were ascending to the heavens.

The ghosts of the Eighty-Six, who, in choosing hatred and lust for revenge, became Shepherds and joined the ranks of the killing machines. Their voices, chanting and barking and demanding one thing: slaughter .

We will have our revenge.

A degree of hatred and resentment that simply didn’t overlap with her image of Lieutenant Lev Aldrecht. The man who, out of a desire to save his wife and child, chose to hide his identity as an Alba and travel to the Eighty-Sixth Sector to fight. The same man who, in the Spearhead squadron’s barracks at their final disposal site, fretted over those children and their Juggernauts. Who saw them walk to their deaths once every six months.

Did he manage to satisfy his grudge?

He was willing to let the children he looked after kill him. He saw himself as guilty merely for being a Republic citizen. Was dying at Rito’s hand the atonement he desired?

If even Aldrecht was guilty, were the other Republic citizens who died to the Eighty-Six’s rage back there allowed to atone through their deaths?

Was that vision of hell, that inferno of death and resentment, what those countless fallen Eighty-Six, what that old head of maintenance wished for at the end of their hatred? At the end of their fury? If so…

Those thoughts haunted Lena, robbing her of precious sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, she heard the screams of Republic citizens and the loathing of the Eighty-Six. How could anyone rest in that state?

But suddenly, a soft, reserved knocking on the door cut through the silence of the night. TP perked up his ears and beat Lena to the door.

“Lena? Are you still up?”

It was Shin.

Lena got to her feet, wondering what brought him here. The moment she heard his voice, her dampened spirits lifted somewhat, and she immediately felt guilty for the moment of unfettered excitement.

“Yes,” she said. “Is something the matter?”

She opened the door, finding Shin standing there with a sour expression. Despite it being nighttime, he was in full service attire, his tie straightened perfectly. Behind him was Lena’s adjutant, Second Lieutenant Isabella Perschmann.

“The second lieutenant did say as much, but…I see it’s true.”

“Huh?”

It had been nearly a month since Zelene was left in her shielded container, cut off from all contact with the outside world. After the second large-scale offensive began, Shin hadn’t come to visit her once. Vika, too, only saw her a single time after the offensive and hadn’t visited since. The intelligence personnel who had managed her so far were nowhere to be seen anymore, either.

If she was human, this long period of confinement in absolute silence and darkness would have been unbearable, but Zelene was Legion, so her isolation was a trifling matter. The Federacy military knew this, so it must not have been intended as interrogation or torture.

They were either reviewing the information she provided them or had otherwise given up on her as a reliable source of intelligence.

…She could only hope the latter was not true.

So Zelene thought in a voiceless sigh, sitting within the silent darkness of her confines. She allowed herself to be captured by the Federacy so that the Legion wouldn’t destroy humankind and to stop the Shepherds, which were now driven not by the Empire’s final order, but by their own thirst for vengeance. But now all the information she’d told them was cast into doubt, and they would likely dismiss the information about the Legion shutdown procedure as fake intel, too. She couldn’t allow that.

But then the cameras and microphones wired to the container were turned on from the outside.

“You’re not dead— Well, no, I suppose you are technically dead. But you haven’t broken down, have you, Zelene Birkenbaum?”

Within the cheap camera’s pixelated footage stood an unfamiliar young officer. He looked to be roughly twenty. A pureblood Onyx with pitch-black eyes and hair, reminiscent of a starless night sky. He had the pale features typical of Imperial nobility, his expression as cold and cruel as a spear and his oblong eyes glinting sternly. He was like a deadly sharp blade—one that would soundlessly and effortlessly cut any who dared touch it.

His armband had the unit insignia of a skeletal hand gripping a longsword burning with spectral flame. Zelene was overcome with icy hostility. Even her electronic voice, as artificial as it sounded, had a touch of resentment in it.

<<…The Nouzen clan.>>

The insignia belonged to an elite unit under the service of the family that ruled over the Empire and the Imperial military. They were issued personally customized Feldreß and made up of only those who possessed Nouzen blood—they were the Onyxes’ strongest trump card.

“Yatrai Nouzen. The Nouzen heir in command of the Crazy Bones Division.”

His deep voice echoed around the room, matching the dignified way he carried himself and the cold, collected glint of his eyes. The sharpness of his tone would have intimidated most people, but Zelene was unfazed.

<<I have nothing to say to any Nouzen save for Shinei, descendant of the conquerors.>>

Someone coming here again meant the Federacy was intent on drawing more information out of her. They may not have trusted Zelene since she was a Legion unit, but, as she shrewdly concluded, they eventually came to accept that the information she could provide was accurate.

In that case, there was still leeway for this kind of negotiation. Even if it meant allowing the Legion to continue and leaving her sins unatoned for, she would refuse to speak to them of all people.

Yatrai smiled thinly, as if he saw through her intentions. It was a smile of cold calculation. The grin of a ruler who showed no mercy to those he trampled underfoot.

“Come to think of it, you came from a lowly Pyrope family, didn’t you, Birkenbaum? Indeed, it would make sense for you to bear a grudge against an Onyx.”

<<…>>

Her hatred toward the Onyxes. Toward conquerors like him. An indignation built up over a thousand years of repeated disgraces—the feeling was much too intense to be written off as a “grudge.”

“But you’re in no position to say any of that, you scrap-metal monster.”

Even though they were of the same bloodline, that kindhearted boy would never do what this Nouzen man did—carelessly calling her the common derogatory term humans used for the Legion. He reminded her that she was no longer human, only a lump of scrap metal to be discarded and destroyed.

“If you refuse to share what you know, it’s all the same to us. We’ll just dispose of you…and that would be your loss alone. If you refuse to speak, it’ll be your wish that goes ungranted, not ours. It’ll weigh on your conscience, and you’ll have nothing left to hope for. Everything you worked to achieve will crumble away into nothing.”

Her silence wasn’t a tool for negotiation anymore.

“Now that you’re just a lifeless machine, you’re hungry for the chance to do some good and save lives. Isn’t that right, Zelene Birkenbaum? If you’re holding on to any information, spit it out. Right here, right now. And then…”

He probably saw right through Zelene’s silence and into her thoughts. This next-generation Nouzen sneered at her with an arrogant, cruel smile fitting of the bloodline of conquerors.

“…we’ll decide if what you say is worth anything.”

After ordering an intelligence officer to wring every last drop of information out of her, Yatrai left the confinement room. With the western front’s retreat, Zelene’s container had to be moved, too. The information bureau’s current headquarters were in an abandoned village, and her container was stored in its church’s crypt. Placing a woman who had died ten years ago and was now a mechanical ghost in a resting place for the dead had a touch of irony to it.

Yatrai passed the thick metallic doors installed in the entrance to the crypt, and then quite suddenly, he dropped his shoulders and started grumbling.

“Aaaah, goodness me. Doing this is so stressful.”

He hung his head and frowned, his back hunched forward without a shred of dignity or motivation. His harsh demeanor from just a moment ago, the intimidating air of the next head of the great warrior house of Nouzen, both gone without a trace. The first lieutenant serving as security officer stared at him with open surprise, momentarily forgetting to show him courtesy. Yatrai didn’t take offense to the officer’s impoliteness, or rather, he didn’t seem to register it at all. Like the royalty of the past, commoners weren’t worthy of his attention any more than a fly on the wall would be.

“As if the Ehrenfried’s nerve-racking third son and the damn president, terrifying as ever, weren’t enough, now the blasted Brantolote hag’s lost her temper. Everyone’s so oppressive. Why do I have to put up with all of it? What did I do to deserve this?”

As Yatrai slumped over despondently, Joschka, who was waiting for him outside, called out to him in a teasing voice.

“So, Nouzen, you finally admitted you’re going to be the next head… That’s how you introduced yourself to Ms. Zelene, right?”

Yatrai pouted in displeasure.

“That’s because my older brother, Mitz, was named the successor. I have no desire to follow him, but his children are all girls, and my other brother, Totsuka, died in battle, making me technically the next in line to succeed the title… I’d rather not, of course.”

He must have hated the idea of succession so much that even after accepting the inevitability of it, he felt pressed to emphasize how much he didn’t want the role—not once, but twice. House Nouzen, a family that was old even when the Empire had been young, was prolific, with many members woven into the government, military, and countless corporations. But serving as the head of such a family wasn’t as appealing as one might believe.

Although the position promised great power, the responsibilities and decisions one would have to undertake were just as grand, to say nothing of the scheming and greed one would be exposed to…along with a millennium’s worth of history, grudges, and deaths.

“And then there’s the current head’s grandson, who was discovered last year. Ultimately, he abstained from participating in the Nouzen succession race.”

Joschka hummed and crossed his arms. All the sons of the current Nouzen family head, Seiei Nouzen, had either absconded or died from illness or in combat, which posed a succession issue that House Nouzen had been grappling with for many years now. This was something Joschka, a member of the noble Maika family, had heard about. The power struggles within House Nouzen had finally settled down once Mitz—the elder son of Marquis Nouzen’s younger brother—and his younger brother, Yatrai, were tentatively named heirs.

But then the marquis’s grandson, Shinei, was revealed to still be alive, further shaking up the succession issue behind the scenes.

“I mean, Shin has no backing,” said Joschka. “He didn’t get the kind of education Imperial nobles have, so even if you were to forcibly install him as heir, he wouldn’t know what to do.”

“If he were to marry one of Mitz’s daughters, both Mitz and I would willingly back him, of course.”

But the Nouzen branch families had daughters of marriageable age, and Marquis Seiei’s daughters had married into other major noble families. Thinking they had probably suggested something similar, Joschka replied:

“It won’t fly.”

Shin already had a girlfriend, after all. Besides, the idea of a marriage arranged for political purposes, with romantic relationships being reserved for concubines and lovers, was a value of the Federacy. Shin, who was native to the Republic, would find it hard to accept.

“Yes, so it seems.” Yatrai huffed. “The current head doesn’t want to burden his grandson with the Nouzen name. And it’s probably the same with the Maikas.”

“…Well, yes. The marquess wants Shin to remain her precious child and to remain a kind grandmother in his eyes.”

Joschka could understand—both how Marquess Gelda Maika felt, and how Marquis Nouzen felt. Shin was a child who possessed their blood, but one whom they wouldn’t have to act like family heads around. A grandchild they could raise without having to look at him as a pawn for the clan’s survival or a soldier to bolster their might—a grandchild they could simply love unconditionally.

A child like that was something they, as former Imperial nobles, had never been allowed to hope for.

Yatrai, however, made a slightly peculiar expression.

“…No, both the family head and Marquess Maika might feel that way, but that’s not all there is to it.”

Joschka stared back at Yatrai curiously, but the look was not returned. His black eyes—that merciless gaze was engulfed by the darkness of the Nouzen bloodline.

“The Strike Package’s Headless Reaper. The ace and commander of the Federacy’s elite, trump-card unit… The warrior king of the Eighty-Six. Both Marquis Nouzen and Marquess Maika aren’t so foolish as to pester him with shouldering the family name, not with the war situation being as poor as it is. That’s what it really comes down to.”

Only half a month had passed since the operation in the Republic. The front lines had been pushed back dozens of kilometers, and by now, the distant rumbling of artillery had become everyday background noise for the Rüstkammer base. And likewise, the daily lives of the captains and their vice lieutenants also changed, with the addition of regular high-level command training.

As he listened to a lecture from the 2nd Armored Division’s supply staff, Raiden pondered on the army’s current shortage of staff officers. Many soldiers, noncommissioned officers, and staff officers died during the second large-scale offensive, and many more lost their lives in its aftermath in an attempt to maintain the stalemate on each front.

On the other hand, the Strike Package had a higher-than-regulated number of staff officers, meant to assist company officers like Raiden and the other captains and vice captains who lacked authority. Those staff officers could be reassigned to help units on other fronts at any time. So to ensure the young soldiers wouldn’t be left incapable of handling situations in their absence, the staff officers volunteered to take turns offering them special lectures like this one.

But in the meantime, the Strike Package still had not received its next orders.

In truth, the site they would be deployed to next was already decided, but the orders about their next mission, or any background information about it, hadn’t yet reached Raiden. Were they having trouble pinning down the exact destination, or were they wary of the information leaking out?

“…Not that they’ve stopped trusting us or anything.”

The thought quietly spilled from his lips. All their achievements had been reduced to nothing, and two weeks ago, they’d failed in the Republic rescue operation. They had technically succeeded in their top-priority objective—namely, aiding the relief expedition retreat—but their commander Richard Altner had died in the line of duty, and the Republic had fallen.

To Raiden, these were objective failures, and he had to ask himself if such failings had influenced the Federacy military’s approach.

For the time being, he counted this as the Federacy providing them the time off they were promised during the month of October. Thankfully, unlike in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, their legal guardians sent them an abundance of distractions, such as movies, cartoons, and comic books, so there was no shortage of things to do. The war swinging against them hadn’t started influencing the amount or quality of their food yet, either.

Even the neighboring city of Fortrapide, which had evacuated most of its citizens, still had some of its coffee shops, stores, and pubs open for business in order to cater to the Vargus and Strike Package members.

But even so.

“I feel like we should get moving at some point…”

The bitter sense of futility left in the wake of the operation in the Republic—the retreat that had forced them to leave behind Republic citizens… He didn’t want that to be the note they went out on.

“Busywork helps keep your mind distracted, doesn’t it?”

In addition to the captains and vice captains who were the primary recipients of this special lecture, all Eighty-Six who were ranked platoon captain and above were also required to attend, as they could end up filling in for their superiors if the need arose. This meant that Kurena and Anju had to go, too.

But since there were so many of them, out of consideration for the Processors’ usual daily duties, they were split into several classes. At present was the morning class, for the vice captains, and the two girls’ lesson was later that day after lunch. The two of them were poring over the text they were given to read in preparation for the lecture. They were in Anju’s room, which she’d furnished elegantly with dried flowers and assorted decorations, though Kurena had to bring a chair from her own room.

…Up until now, Kurena had often shirked doing her homework, and so she struggled to prepare for the lecture. Kurena pouted—if only she’d taken the time to study and do her lessons a month ago. To think she’d wind up scrambling to make up for it now, with the war going badly and no time to spare.

As Kurena spun the pen in her hand in time with her whirling thoughts, Anju could only smile wryly.

“I really think it’d do you good to go back over the basics.”

“Mm… I guess. I thought there wasn’t enough time for that, but you’re probably right…”

She closed the preparation text and called up the file for the foundations manual. It had the kind of bulky, inaccessible-looking cover that was typical of military texts. The design immediately put her off, but Kurena swallowed her displeasure and opened the file.

As Kurena flipped to the appropriate chapter and started going through it with her brow furrowed, Anju returned to the topic at hand.

“Maybe they arranged these special lectures to keep us too busy to brood over the situation. But…”

“Yeah. We can’t simply stop thinking about it, but at the same time we don’t want to overdo it distracting ourselves.” Kurena finished her sentence.

They both sighed, thinking of the same person.

“…Lena,” said Kurena.

“Is she going to be all right?”

Lena was currently in uniform, but the trunk beside her was full of plain clothes. It also included her personal necessities and a few poetry anthologies she was reading—but nothing work-related. And next to it was TP’s carrier.

Beside her luggage Lena stood dejected, her shoulders drooping.

“…I’m sorry,” she said.

They were in the Rüstkammer base’s airfield, awaiting a transport plane. With one hand, Shin held TP’s carrier and shook his head in denial. The cat had been meowing repeatedly like it was begging for something.

“Don’t be. I’m just glad I picked up on it before you pushed yourself too hard.”

He peered into Lena’s face—which, besides her frown, did look a little pale—before gently continuing:

“I know that it might be difficult to suddenly shift gears and go on leave, but just think of it like this: Knowing when to rest is part of work, too.”

“She saw her homeland destroyed before her eyes, and on top of that, she had to witness so many people shot and burned to death. It must have been hard on her. Even we weren’t unfazed, so imagine how it must have felt for her.”

“…Yeah. Just remembering it makes me sick.” Kurena nodded, pursing her lips.

The way the Legion mercilessly slaughtered so many innocents… The way the Republic ruthlessly gunned down her mother and father. When she was fighting in the Republic, and later on, when they retreated, Kurena was able to maintain her composure. At the time, she didn’t even think of it.

There was no time for her to dwell on the death of her parents in the midst of battle, with all her focus on the march and the safety of her surroundings.

But when they came back to the Rüstkammer base—back to the comfort of a kind of home—when she entered her room and could finally wind down, the memories came rushing back to her, stabbing at her old wounds.

She saw her parents murdered in a dream and woke up screaming. Only when the girl in the room next to hers—a girl from her platoon—hurried over to ask her what was wrong did Kurena finally realize it was just a dream.

Kurena, are you all right?!

When the girl said that, Kurena was too frozen up to respond. The concerned girl made her some hot cocoa—each room came equipped with an electric kettle—and Kurena finally settled down only after she drank it.

That kept happening for a few nights. She became scared of going to sleep, and a few days later, right as she started considering consulting the medical staff if she became unable to get any rest, the nightmares stopped. She was fine for now, but…

“I don’t like seeing people die… And the thought that Lieutenant Aldrecht and all those Eighty-Six we don’t know suffered enough to wish their plight onto others hurts, too…”

“…Yeah.”

Seeing Eighty-Six, just like them, overcome by so much hatred, and witnessing people die such gruesome, terrible deaths was a painful experience, even if they weren’t on either side of the exchange. It truly was painful—even to the Eighty-Six, who were used to seeing mangled corpses…who were used to seeing people caught in the awful balance of being too wounded to survive but not wounded enough to die quickly. Some of them had to go to counseling following the operation and were ordered to take time off to recuperate.

And while Lena may have been the Eighty-Six’s Queen, the Republic was her homeland, and its people were her countrymen.

“At least Shin was nearby and caught that Lena had stopped eating.”

Realizing that something was wrong, he asked Second Lieutenant Perschmann, who confirmed Lena hadn’t been sleeping, either. He realized that Lena, her personality being what it was, would push herself to the brink, and so he reported to Grethe, who scheduled a meeting with the mental-health team.

Their prescribed treatment was for Lena to be removed from her duties for a month and put on leave—and she was being sent to recuperate on the transport flight later that day.

Lena was shocked to hear the doctor’s orders and soon became dispirited and apologetic. She spent the few days between the medical visit and the flight in a funk.

“…Dustin and Annette were fine, apparently. How come I’m the only one being ordered to rest…?”

“I heard that Dustin was told to refrain from participating in active combat, too, so we can’t take him to the next operation. And Rita wasn’t on the battlefield to begin with.”

Lena puffed up her cheeks grumpily. “…Her name is Annette, Shin.”

“Come on, you can let that slide.” Shin chuckled.

“No. Call her Annette.”

“Okay, okay, Annette… Take care of yourself, Lena.”

Hearing this, Lena finally managed a small smile. “I’ll try.”

She then brought her hands together and leaned forward, trying to rouse herself.

“Apparently, the military medical facility I’m going to has its own ranch, and they teach you how to interact with the animals. I think I’ll pay it a visit. Maybe I’ll learn how to ride a horse! Do you know how to ride one, Shin?”

“I’ve never ridden a horse… I do know how to ride a bike, and I had to get a driver’s license as part of my training.”

Bikes were used for recon, and automobiles were used for transportation, so despite Shin being a Feldreß operator, he was given classroom time and basic training on how to operate other vehicles. He couldn’t handle large trailers and the like, and at present, only the honor guard and reconnaissance units in select regions used horses, so he didn’t know how to ride those, either.

Shin regarded her with a teasing smile.

“Before you do that, though, you should learn how to crack an egg.”

“I can crack eggs just fine, and you know it! We both took cooking as an elective!”

There was a time when they studied at a school built in Fortrapide during their scheduled leave. More students had been attending than when the Strike Package was first established, and it was there that Lena learned that she didn’t need a hammer to crack an egg open, and Shin discovered that as long as he followed the recipe, he could produce decent tasting food.

As long as he followed the recipe……

Second Lieutenant Perschmann approached her. She had green eyes and red hair that was pulled back into a bun. Her figure was delicate, and she wore silver-rimmed glasses and stood with her back very straight.

“I told them to pick a docile horse for you,” she said, matter-of-fact. “Also, I hear the head of the medical facility makes very good omelets, so you ought to have them teach you… You might end up becoming better at it than a certain captain whose name shall be omitted, who keeps neglecting such simple steps as beating the egg.”

Shin raised his hands in the air, as if to ask her to stop teasing him so much.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Lena said, managing a smile, although it still came across as a little forced.

“Yes, well… You’re on vacation, Colonel. Try to have some fun.”

“Okay…”

“I’m honestly kind of jealous of Lena… Vacation must be nice,” Rito mused, leaning his chair diagonally back and looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you really feel that way?” asked Mika, who sat across from him with her cheek resting against her hand.

“Of course not,” Rito replied indifferently.

He’d never leave his comrades behind to take a trip in the country, and Lena probably wasn’t any more comfortable with the idea than he was. More than anything, the idea of leaving Shin behind on the battlefield and going somewhere far away likely didn’t sit well with her at all.

“I mean, look at us now. We’re resting because they told us we should, but…we’re all kind of on edge.”

They felt like they had to do something…like they couldn’t bear to sit still. But there was nothing to be done in this situation, leaving them at a loss.

“It’s because we’re panicked and confused…that we have to rest properly,” Michihi said.

They were told to take time off to dispel their conflicted, fretful emotions or else to swallow and suppress them.

“So they want us to lie in bed, like we’re injured?”

“I guess it’s pretty nice that they’re giving us time to rest.”

With each squadron in the Eighty-Sixth Sector having a set number of members, even the injured and the sick couldn’t be excluded from the fighting. It was hard to believe they were being allowed time for mental or emotional damage.

“I guess it’s good for Claude, too.” Shiden glanced at one side of the table. “Gave him the chance to find his brother and dad.”

“Claude was seriously pissed off at them, though.”

“Anyone would be, all things considered…”

His half brother from his father’s side had served as a Handler for Claude’s unit without telling him and fought alongside him before the first large-scale offensive. Then, afterward, Claude lost contact with him. His brother was too ashamed to reveal his name, but now that the Republic had completely fallen, he’d stepped up to become a volunteer soldier out of concern for the situation.

Needless to say, the possibility that his brother had died during the large-scale offensive hung heavily over Claude’s mind, so the shock of this discovery made his anger swell. During the first meeting the Federacy military arranged for them, Claude became so incensed that it had to be postponed.

Tohru, Grethe, the old lady, and the priest all had to step in to calm him down and convince him to agree to another try. But even then, Claude had shouted at his brother, asking him what right he had to show his shitty face after all this time.

As the others glanced at him, Claude’s mood seemed to plummet. Just having his brother mentioned irritated him.

“…Well, I guess having to deal with that asshole does make for a good distraction.”

“Same here…,” Tohru said languidly from the seat next to him.

Despite being his closest, oldest comrade, Tohru had never seen Claude react with such rage—not to anyone. So having to hang around him while he was in such a mood was exhausting. Despite that, as Claude said, it did help keep their mind off things like the slaughter of the Republic citizens, the hatred of the Shepherds, which now housed the minds of their fallen comrades, and the unreasonable antipathy of the Republic citizens.

Those were all unnecessary concerns that Claude and Tohru were too busy for. And perhaps, in fretting over Claude, this also applied to the old woman and the priest, who had just experienced the irreversible loss of their country.

“But, Claude, it’s about time you forgave your brother. If you reject him too hard, he might just back off, and if anything happens to either of you, whoever’s left would regret it forever.”

“Shut up… I know that.” Claude squinted bitterly behind his glasses. “I’ll talk to him next time.”

He then turned his snow-white eyes to Rito.

“Speaking of distractions, you must have it the hardest, Rito. Shouldn’t you try to do something to keep your mind off things?”

Rito jolted upright upon being called out. Claude was probably referring to how he’d had to kill Aldrecht.

“Oh, me…? I’m fine…”

“““Don’t force yourself.””” Shiden, Mika, and Michihi spoke in unison.

“That Shepherd you defeated was someone you used to know, right?”

“The more you brood over something, the heavier the emotional burden becomes. Even Lena had to take time off.”

“If it’s weighing on you, make sure you get some rest. Either that or do what Claude said and find a distraction.”

“Mm…,” Rito said after a moment’s pause. “Fine. I’ll ask for permission to take time off and leave the base tomorrow. Maybe I can go on a walk or look up weird books in the library and eat lots of cake at a coffee shop.”

“Wait, the library’s open?”

“It’s just the head librarian and his wife now. They still check out books, and they’re projecting film media in place of a theater and do storytelling for the Vargus’s children.”

“The dining hall and PX in the base are planning some events, too. If you need a change of pace, you can check those out,” said Shin as he entered the room.

If he was here, that meant Lena’s flight had departed. Afterward, Raiden returned from his lecture, followed by an oddly exhausted Kurena and a calm Anju.

“It might be a bit late to suggest this, but let’s hold a party before our next mission. To celebrate Halloween and boost morale.”

Most of the staff from the dining hall and PX weren’t actually soldiers but rather civilians who had entered military service. With the front lines having fallen back and this base being closer to the fighting than ever before, they were undoubtedly afraid, but they still did what they could to keep spirits high. Throwing a party would be a nice way to show appreciation for all they had done, as well.

“That sounds like fun—I’m in!” Rito said, leaning forward. “And, Cap’n, you can wear a Reaper costume!”

“No, costumes aren’t mandatory, so I won’t be dressing up.” Shin shook his head.

“Nah, Shin, you should. Gotta liven things up, y’know?” Raiden cut him off.

“The moment you stop smiling, you lose, right?” Anju chuckled. “Let’s take this chance to do a moon viewing, like Kujo wanted.” She smiled.

“Huh? What’s a ‘moon viewing’?” Claude reacted to the unfamiliar word.

“You’re making mooncakes?” Michihi, who knew the term, asked quizzically.

Everyone repeated the word, confused. “Mooncakes?”

“Dustin, do you have a minute? I got the requests for the next screening session.”

“Oh, thanks.”

As they crossed paths on the way to the dining hall, Marcel called out to Dustin and handed him a notepad, which he accepted gratefully. After a stern warning from the mental-health team’s counselor, it was decided Dustin would not participate in the upcoming operation. He was also told not to attend training for now, so while his mind might have been occupied, he had plenty of time to burn. That was why he’d started organizing movie nights.

Every day, they’d switch genres—one day action, the next romance—and he’d set up folding chairs in empty meeting rooms and dim the lights to simulate the atmosphere of a cinema. Once they heard about Dustin’s idea, Olivia and the Alliance’s expedition members asked the PX’s staff to set up stalls that sold popcorn and carbonated drinks.

The screenings were always a success. Some of the Processors requested a splatter-film marathon, and Dustin had to wonder if that was a good idea after their last operation. He hadn’t been there to watch in person, but he had Vika supervise in his place. Vika himself watched the thing, and contrary to Dustin’s concerns, the Processors laughed enthusiastically as gore flew all over the screen like bits of ripe tomato.

Dustin could only conclude that this, too, was a way to relieve stress.

The Federacy’s western front had been pushed back farther than it had at the founding of the Strike Package—even farther than two years ago, when they rescued Shin and his group. After the Republic aid operation, which was essentially a rout, most of the Eighty-Six were detained in this base, where they remained.

Vika’s homeland, the United Kingdom, also had to continue its retreat over the last month. Communications were still ongoing, so he knew his father, the king; and his brother, the crown prince, were still alive. The southern farmlands had become a battlefield, but they had still managed to bring in the harvest. Despite that, there was no telling what they would do after the coming winter.

Dustin himself was able to keep his mind off things thanks to this idea of his. And as a perk of being the planner, he could always secure the best seats for whatever romance movies Anju wanted to watch and maybe see them with her if given the chance.

Zashya and Annette looked at him like he was human trash for doing it, though. Which reminded him…

“Hey, Marcel… I haven’t seen Annette around for the last few days. Have you spotted her anywhere?”

Marcel paused to think.

“I haven’t seen her, either, come to think of it. I wonder where she is.”

Theo was currently stationed in a base on the outskirts of the Giadian capital of Sankt Jeder. Compared with last month, the corridors were full of reserve soldiers gathered for practice drills. As he walked through the halls with his new colleagues, carrying training materials, Theo spotted a familiar flash of silvery white and stopped in his tracks.

“What’s wrong, Theo?” one of his colleagues asked.

“Oh, nothing, I just thought I saw someone I know…”

Was he imagining things? No, upon looking again, it really was someone he recognized. Her Prussian-blue uniform stood out among the sea of steel-colored Federacy uniforms, along with her slender form, unbefitting a soldier. She walked off, her expression sterner and grimmer than he’d ever seen it…

“Annette…?”

What was she doing here?

Just before lunch, Dustin and Marcel entered the first dining hall. Even after the boisterous meal started, however, Annette was still nowhere to be seen. As the room grew crowded, Grethe and her adjutant joined, having reached a stopping point in their work. Shin raised a hand, signaling two empty seats for them. Raiden pulled the chairs out, and Tohru and Claude went to get them trays, since they both looked exhausted.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it… Colonel, do you know where Annette is? She didn’t come see Lena off.”

Shin asked the question casually, but Grethe and her adjutant briefly fell quiet.

“She went to Sankt Jeder on business… She’s off to meet the Eighty-Six children. The little ones, who were too young to take to the battlefield.”