Chapter 3: Fanrine

The next day—

There had been heavy rainfall since the early morning. Bad weather while camping out was the worst—one’s body would feel chilled to the bone, and it made it even harder to secure a decent night’s rest. It certainly was troublesome, and that was why Regis thanked his lucky stars they had already made it to Fort Boneire. Surely the soldiers were glad to have a roof over their heads too.

During a morning meeting, Regis informed everyone that he was headed to the capital, and that he would consequently be away from the army for more than a month.

Benjamin, Justin, and Coignièra all appeared completely unsurprised, no doubt having seen the decision as self-evident. This sentiment was widely shared among soldiers in Belgaria: a reason couldn’t possibly exist for a commoner to turn down a chance to join the ranks of the nobility—after all, what more could there be to strive for?

Jerome simply clicked his tongue without a word. He was the man who had ordered Regis to return to the capital the first time they met, though perhaps he was at least a little more reluctant to part with him now.

Altina silently nodded. After their long discussion the night before, she had come to accept what needed to be done. Clarisse, meanwhile, nodded from the corner. She had returned to her silent mode and thus offered no reaction.

The soldiers were the next to be informed of Regis’s leave of absence, and as expected, nobody was the least bit surprised. He had received a summons from the Ministry of Military Affairs, after all—as long as the commander didn’t raise any objections, it was only natural that he would oblige. In fact, the more unexpected outcome would have been for the tactician to refuse the order or even quit the military entirely.

That said, quitting wasn’t much of an option: as things were, he wouldn’t be able to resign and accompany Altina as a servant without having some troops refuse to follow his plans.

That wasn’t worth considering right now, though; it wasn’t as though they were facing an urgent threat. Regis instead mused over the more pressing matters that had been playing on his mind ever since hearing about the matter with the Ministry.

The things I need to do in the capital are what’s most important right now...

“Next on the agenda: the reinforcements we’re sending east...” Regis began.

“Weren’t we sending the former Second Army?” Altina asked.

Regis scratched his head. “There were some coordination problems during our last battle. Of course, supporting the eastern front is our main priority, but... if we do not properly address these issues, I fear they will never improve. That is why I’m considering sending some officers from the Beilschmidt border regiment alongside them.”

“So they’ll get some training in while they’re aiding the Seventh Army?”

“Precisely.”

Jerome had a rather unpleasant look on his face. “You’re taking troops away from me again. Just how long do you think it takes to train them?”

“Sorry... They’re all so excellent. You certainly know how to nurture their growth, Sir Jerome.”

“Hmph. I don’t remember nurturing anyone. I just ordered them to do the necessary training and removed anyone who didn’t listen or couldn’t keep up.”

“But the ones who managed to endure have become the best soldiers we have. That’s more than enough. Most importantly, you’ve instilled into them a certain courageousness.”

On the battlefield, there were few more terrifying than the Black Knight himself. It made sense that the soldiers he trained would never run away.

“Not another word from you,” Jerome said, furrowing his brow. “You only flatter people like that when you’re scheming.”

“That’s... not necessarily true.”

“Who’ve you chosen? Which poor sap are you sending to the east?”

As apprehensive as Regis was to answer, he knew that the person he had decided on would almost certainly be the optimal choice.

“Er... The truth is... I was going to ask you, Sir Jerome.”

Benjamin let out a small shriek, while Jerome simply regarded the tactician with a pitying look, as though he were gazing upon a complete fool.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“A lot of thought went into the decision, and... when I’m looking for someone who can train troops to coordinate with the border regiment, unify the soldiers of a separate battalion, and aid the diminished eastern front...”

“What about the Fourth Army?”

“If Germania does invade, those at Fort Volks will only need to fight defensively. And with the Type-41s we seized from High Britannia, the enemy won’t get the drop on them with their artillery.”

Additionally, of the High Britannian soldiers they had taken as prisoners of war, a few had already turned coat. It couldn’t be said whether they would go to war against their home country, but in a battle against a separate foreign power, surely they would assist for the sake of survival.

Another deciding factor for Regis was that their cavalry would find much more use on the eastern front than a defensive line, but this did not seem to sit right with Jerome.

“I heard the east was all forests and mountains,” he said. “That horsemen were unusable there.”

“There’s certainly some truth to that... If you were to go on the offense, you would be fighting in the forests. Estaburg’s soldiers are good at lying in wait, and the horsemen will already be at a disadvantage. However...”

Regis spread out a map, then suggested pulling back the defensive line to the plains since this would put them in a better position when intercepting the enemy. At each step of the explanation, he sought confirmation from Coignièra, making sure to reiterate that their battle plan would focus solely on defense.

Jerome clicked his tongue a number of times throughout. Then, when the tactician was done, he exclaimed, “You sure are barking up the wrong tree here!”

“I believe my recommendations are all very reasonable.”

“You’re good at what you do, Regis, but you don’t have what it takes to stand above others.”

“I agree.”

“Hmph... From the way you’ve described it, this plan sounds pointless. You need to learn how to better motivate your subordinates.”

“Sorry. I thought the reduction in predicted casualties would be enough...”

“You’re too selfless and sensible,” Jerome said with a scoff. “Those soldiers headed to the battlefield, what exactly do you think they are? You think they’re decent people? They already know that people are gonna die, but they march because they believe it won’t be them. It’s pointless to try and convince those men by saying that your plan will cost fewer lives. Why should they care? What you need to tell them is that you’ll recognize them for their distinguished service in the operation. That’s how you raise morale. Sure, the greedy ones die first, but that’s just what it takes.”

Regis hung his head. He definitely wasn’t a soldier by nature. No matter how many books he read and how deeply he delved into their philosophies, he still couldn’t comprehend them in the truest sense.

“I’ll keep that in mind going forward...”

“Well, regardless of what the soldiers think, a stupid plan creates a mountain of corpses. I’ll admit, we could do without that... Maybe it’s your influence, but lately, everyone from troopers to head troopers have started prattling on about tactics with smug looks on their faces.”

“Really?”

“The ones who can read are even acting like they’re back in the academy, reading books and all that.”

“Books, you say!”

That was quite wonderful, as far as Regis was concerned. He could feel a wave of excitement washing over him. Jerome, in contrast, was getting more and more irritated.

“Tsk... Don’t look so giddy. The wiser they get, the harder they are to use!”

“Ah. Haha... I see.”

Even so, upon hearing that his actions were having an impact on how the soldiers thought, driving them to turn toward the letters and books they had previously shown little to no interest in, Regis could not help but rejoice at his accomplishments.

Having spent the day getting some much-needed rest, the Empire’s Fourth Army were to await a spell of good weather before returning to Fort Volks. Meanwhile, a division was set to head east with the Seventh Army.

It was not far from Fort Boneire to the capital, and the roads were well maintained, so Regis decided that he would depart despite the weather. Half a day saved would mean reuniting with the army that much quicker.

Not to mention, gathering intel was best done while the news was freshest.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis gazed across the yard from a doorway in the fortress’s central tower, watching the gentle rainfall. To avoid making their journey any longer than necessary, they were going to use the rear gate since it already faced north. He was currently waiting for the carriage to be readied there.

Clarisse had come to see him off. “You’re really going, aren’t you, Mr. Regis?” she said, a lonesome hint to her voice. Perhaps because they were alone, she drew even closer than usual.

Regis naturally found their parting tough as well, but what else could he do?

“There’s something I need to take care of at the capital.”

“I see... Whatever shall we do without you...?”

“I’ve already passed on everything that I needed to. Altina should do just fine.”

“Yes, the princess will certainly be okay. She’s my princess, after all. But Mr. Regis, if you’re gone, how exactly am I supposed to go on? I might not be able to live without you...”

“Haha... You’re making far too big of a deal out of this.”

“Without anyone to tease, I might just die of boredom...”

“Wait, were you just using me to kill time?!”

“Fufu... It really is a shame that I won’t be able to enjoy your priceless reactions anymore. We’re losing such a splendid talent...”

“Hey, come now, I’m not dying here! I do have to admit, though... I’m going to miss the amazing tea you make.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“I see... So after all this time, I’m no more than a teapot to you...”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Kidding.”

“Hah... Good grief...”

Clarisse stared at him fixedly, and it was then that Regis noticed a faint bleariness to her eyes.

“Please take care, Mr. Regis... Please... Rather than the princess, or the Empire, focus on your own well-being...”

“Thank you. You look after yourself too, Ms. Clarisse.”

“...I will.”

She stepped back, then deeply bowed her head.

What’s gotten into her...?

“Oh, there you are!” came a sudden voice. It was Enzo, marching over from down the corridor. “Reggie, my boy. I hear you’re going to the capital.”

“That I am. What do you plan to do, Enzo? If you want to join me, we can share the guards. Going to Rouenne would be a bit of a detour, but it’ll certainly be safer for you.”

“Yeah, about that... I still have some work to do.”

“What kind of work?”

He was a town blacksmith. It wasn’t as though he were enlisted in the military, so there was no need for him to take up any requests here.

“I understand that I’ve got no obligation to do jobs for the army, but I can’t just abandon my current projects halfway through. That armor is what’s gonna keep those men alive on the front lines! Doesn’t help that they keep bringing me more; now I’ve got heaps to work through.”

As a strategist, Regis was grateful for the man’s unwavering sense of duty. But as a brother-in-law, he had some concerns.

“Are you going to be all right...?”

“Yeah, uh... probably not. I’m teaching the army smiths, but they only understand about half of what I’ve shown them so far. And if they start taking on work while they still don’t fully grasp things, they’re only gonna cause more problems.”

“Err... Okay, I can understand that. But you’re not going to accompany them all the way to Fort Volks, are you?”

“They’re leaving when the weather clears up tomorrow, right? Seems like I’ll need to, then. Haven’t finished fine-tuning the Grand Tonnerre Quatre yet either.”

Now that he mentioned it, Enzo had indeed said that he would adjust the hilt to better fit Altina’s hands.

“What about your smithy? You’ve got work piled up there too, haven’t you?”

Enzo groaned. “Yeah, I’m worried about that too... But, well, I’ve told my apprentices to depend on my brothers for any jobs they can’t handle themselves, so there hopefully won’t be any problems.”

“Wait, you have brothers?” Regis asked. From what he recalled, Enzo’s only living relative was his elderly mother.

Enzo waved his hand dismissively. “You’re getting the wrong idea. They ain’t related to me by blood. They’re my peers. We were taught under the same smithing master.”

“Ah, right...”

“I’ve got five brothers in Rouenne, all exceptionally skilled and just as trustworthy. In fact, the town’s full of people like that.”

“It isn’t called the city of smiths for nothing...”

“That does leave one problem, though...” Enzo murmured. His face, which had been brimming with confidence just a moment ago, started to wither like an old tree.

“Wh-What is it?”

“Hah... What’s the wife gonna say? Our youngest is still such a tender age.”

“Ah...”

“I’ll write letters, of course, but do you think that’s enough?”

“Knowing my sister, she’ll probably chase you to Fort Volks.”

“I’m certainly not having that! I hear there’s another war brewing there!”

“Believe me. I’m against it as well.”

If the fortress became caught up in a siege, Regis wasn’t sure there would be enough food to accommodate non-military personnel, and water would also become a valuable commodity once summer came around. Then there was the risk of contagions...

Even if Altina took Enzo’s family in as guests, there was no guarantee they would find their living conditions satisfactory.

“Hrm...” Enzo groaned. “Think I should not mention where I’m headed in the letter?”

“She already knows you took on a job from the princess. If you say that you’re following the army, she could easily figure out where you’re going to be. It wouldn’t be all that much trouble for her to find out where the Fourth Army is stationed; unlike our ships, the locations of our armies aren’t much of a secret.”

“What a situation, huh...?”

“I’ll send her a letter as well, just to make sure she doesn’t jump the gun.”

“She’s not that far from the capital, you know. Why not just drop by?”

“Good point. I wouldn’t expect too much, though; I can’t imagine I’ll do any better at dissuading her. At the very least, please decide on a return date and pass that on to her.”

“Right. It’s not like I plan to settle down with the army or anything. I’ll head straight back home once I’ve finished working on my current orders and the treasured sword.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Enzo raised a hand. “Well, good luck then. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon enough.”

“Hopefully...”

With that, Enzo went swiftly on his way. His place was quickly taken by Fanrine, who came from the opposite direction with her guard knights. Clarisse, who had also been making her leave, once again reverently lowered her head. Regis did the same, and the woman responded with a courteous bow.

“Who was that just now?” Fanrine asked. “He certainly did not look like a soldier to me...”

“My brother-in-law, Enzo Smith. He’s a skilled blacksmith from Rouenne, currently working to repair the soldiers’ gear and the princess’s sword.”

“How wonderful! I should have expected no less from you, Regis. Even your brother-in-law is talented.”

“Well, that really has nothing to do with me...”

She was probably just trying to be polite, but Regis felt an uncomfortable itch whenever he received praise. He scratched his head.

“Oh, do excuse me. I haven’t been keeping you waiting, have I?” she asked all of a sudden, sounding quite apologetic.

“Not at all. My own carriage isn’t fully prepared yet.”

“Ah, excellent. I certainly would not want to bother you.”

“Ha... Haha...”

Fanrine glanced around. “I had assumed there would be a large crowd seeing you off. Have they already dispersed?”

“I can’t imagine that many people will come. I’m only an administrative officer, I’ll only be gone for a month at most, and the reason for my departure is personal business. It’s really not a big deal...”

“On the contrary, I think it is a very big deal, given your achievements.”

“The most I’ve done is regurgitate information that I just so happened to know. Any accomplishments on the battlefield rightfully belong to the princess.”

Had it been the commander leaving the army today, there would have been lines of soldiers blaring their bugles as they saw her off, no matter how bad the weather or how temporary her leave was. But such a grand sendoff was not necessary for someone such as Regis; in fact, it would have made him rather embarrassed.

Fanrine furrowed her brow. “My, what a lonely life you must live...”

“Not at all. I’ve worked my hardest to see that the princess is trusted as the army’s commander. If they made such a big deal out of someone like me taking a leave of absence, it would only make me more concerned.”

“You underestimate yourself, Regis. I have only been here for a day, but I can already tell that the soldiers hold you in high esteem.”

“Even if what you say is true... the only person who came is Ms. Clarisse here...”

“Ms. Clarisse?”

“Oh, this fine maid right—”

Regis cut himself off, realizing that he might have just made an embarrassing mistake. While Fanrine was affiliated with the Ministry of Military Affairs, she was the daughter of a high noble; perhaps, like many others, she didn’t include servants in the headcount.

However, she gave the maid a gentle smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Fanrine Veronica de Tiraso Laverde.”

“...Likewise,” Clarisse replied in a monotone voice, her head respectfully lowered. She gave off quite a contrasting impression to Fanrine, but this did not seem to affect the mood at all.

Perhaps my fears were unfounded... Regis thought, only to spot one of the guards making no attempt to hide his grimace. He was a young knight who looked to be around the same age as Regis and Fanrine, sporting hair that was wavy like kelp.

“Lady Fanrine, please consider your position,” he said. “The daughter of House Tiraso Laverde need not pay her respects to a lowly servant.”

A troubled look crossed Fanrine’s face. “Hah... My apologies, Regis. He is a guard of ours—a bit of a watchdog, to be honest. He can be a tad extreme...”

The knight glared at her. “Extreme? Perish the thought. The master has instructed me to ensure that you carry yourself in a manner befitting the daughter of a duke.”

“Yes, well... my grandfather can be a tad extreme too,” she sighed.

Clarisse kept her head down the whole time.

A feeling of remorse started to spread through Regis’s chest. He wanted to apologize to the maid. There were so few discriminatory people in the border regiment that he oftentimes forgot about the wall that existed between nobles and commoners in Belgaria—a wall so high that it took more than a lifetime to scale.

When in front of others, Clarisse carried herself as a maid—nothing more. In hindsight, this was probably to avoid situations like this. Regis hadn’t been attentive enough in that regard.

He pointed toward the yard. “Oh, it looks like the carriage is here. We should be on our way.”

Fanrine nodded, and the watchdog knight said no more. Together, they stepped out into the rain.

Regis turned back to Clarisse, who was still bowing her head. “I’m sorry...” he quietly apologized, but in her silent and expressionless state, she could offer no response.

I guess I’ll have to write to her as well...

As long as he addressed it to Altina, it would surely reach the maid in one piece.

In the downpour, Fanrine waited not at her own carriage but at Regis’s white box-shaped one. “My! What a wonderful carriage you have!” she exclaimed.

“Y-Yes... I received it from Ms. Elenore.”

“Oh, that sister of mine! She already has three husbands, you know. How indecent for her to start investing in a younger man.”

“N-No, that wasn’t her intention... I believe it was a show of thanks for assisting her during the commemoration festival, and a sign that she wished to strengthen political relations with the princess.”

“Fufu. That certainly is an interesting way to put it.”

“Excuse me...?”

Did I say something strange? Regis wondered.

Fanrine looked at him with upturned eyes. “Erm... if you wouldn’t mind, may I ride with you?”

“Don’t you have your own carriage?”

The Ministry’s carriage was far more dignified than the standard stagecoach. Even compared to his own, it still held up quite nicely.

“Oh, my apologies...” she said, casting her gaze down. “Was that too forward of me...?”

“No, not at all. We are going to be spending quite some time on the road. It would be a huge help if you could tell me more about the capital—within the boundaries of what the Ministry allows you to say, of course.”

Her face lit up. “If my words will be of use to you, then I shall say whatever you want!”

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis opened the door to his carriage, allowing Fanrine to climb in first. This was a standard practice known to any and all gentlemen of the Empire, even the children; he wouldn’t barge ahead simply because it was raining out.

When he climbed in, she was seated on the bench facing the rear of the carriage. She held out a silk handkerchief. “I must apologize again. Your hair and clothes have gotten a little damper because of me.”

“Hah... Don’t worry, I’m a soldier. I can stand a little water.”

“Oh, how manly.”

“Manly?!”

As far as Regis could remember, he had never heard anyone use that word to describe him before. What made it even stranger was that her cheeks carried an unusual red tinge.

Outside the window, the young knight from before called out, “Prepare to depart!”

While his attitude toward Clarisse certainly hadn’t been a great first impression, the man seemed devoted to his duties. He would probably be a reliable guard.

On the knight’s orders, the driver urged the horses into a walk. Regis could hear their hooves squelching into the mud, and the carriage began to rattle and shake.

He cocked his head slightly. “This is strange...”

“Is something the matter?” Fanrine asked.

“I can’t see any soldiers...”

“It really is strange that nobody came to see you off...”

“I’m fine with that, but... where are our lookouts?”

They passed through the narrow backyard, exiting through the northern gate. The patter of rain against the window grew louder.

“Regis, look!” Fanrine exclaimed, suddenly rising from her seat. She was pointing behind them, in the direction of the fortress.

Wondering what could have happened, Regis opened the side window and stuck out his head. He was immediately met with the bellows of a bugle.

Buglers lined the tops of Boneire’s stone walls, playing in unison. It was the rousing tune used to see off troops marching to war. Crowds of soldiers appeared from the hills lining the sides of the road, their spears waving both the banners of the army and the Empire.

Among them, he even spotted Abidal-Evra.

“Salute the strategist, Regis d’Aurick!”

The soldiers lining the path in orderly file straightened their backs, moving their clenched right fists to the left of their chests. With their spears on display, it was almost as though they were marching down the main streets of Verseilles in the emperor’s parade.

“Wh-Why?” Regis squeaked. He was at a complete loss for words.

“Because you have done enough to deserve it,” Fanrine explained, sitting back down on the bench. She was gazing at Regis with the same eyes as her sister, a woman known as the Vixen of the South.

Paying no heed to the rain, Regis kept the window open to watch the soldiers. Some sang the same rousing war song, while others screamed out messages of their own.

“Stay safe, Tactician!”

“You’re the reason we’re still alive!”

“Glory to the wizard!”

“Make sure you come back!”

“God bless the nation’s hero!”

“You’re the greatest strategist we could ever ask for!”

“We love you, Tactician!”

“Don’t go!”

“Come back soon! Please!”

“We’ll be waiting for you, Sir Regis!”

It truly was a grand sendoff.

Regis’s eyes were initially opened wide in shock, but then he cast them down. “I... I don’t understand...”

“You might not, but the soldiers clearly do. They know who they owe their victory to.”

“It was... the princess...”

“The princess has her own accomplishments too, of course. But would they not have lost the war without a certain skilled tactician by the name of Regis d’Aurick?”

Regis shook his head. “I doubt it. I mean, even without my suggestions... I’m sure someone would have found a way to win through other means. Belgaria is a strong nation; it always has been.”

“You humble yourself.”

“That’s not it. I just... I didn’t do well at all. I failed. We had far more casualties than I expected. I mean, as their strategist, I should have thought up a solution that wouldn’t have led to any deaths. Too many have fallen in this war. How am I supposed to look their families in the eye? How can I tell them that I did a good job?”

“Regis... has anyone ever told you to think about the living?” Fanrine asked with a smile.

“Yes, but...”

Clarisse had said it when she was consoling him, as had Altina.

“I feel the same way,” she continued. “Rather than focusing on the lives lost, you should consider the people you have saved. The people who are still alive... and who will continue to live, thanks to you.”

“That probably is the best way of looking at things.”

Regis understood that deep down, but the more people heaped praise on him, the less he felt like he truly deserved it. He couldn’t help but feel that he could have done so much better, and as time passed, new ideas would come to him—things he could have done instead.

Fanrine’s eyes turned to the window. “Subjectivity is important, but you must accept objective critiques as well, regardless of how they compare to your own opinions of yourself.”

“For better or worse...”

She nodded, the sharp glint in her eyes concealed beneath a gentle smile. There was no denying that she was a woman with a peculiar air about her.

“Regis, those who are highly evaluated are also burdened with high expectations. This fact does not change, no matter how little self-confidence one might have. Successes bring with them the anticipation of even further successes. It is just as unavoidable as failures being scorned.”

“That does seem to be how it works... It seems to come naturally in every story that I’ve read too.”

“But regardless of whether you are confident, or whether you have lofty expectations placed on you... you can only do your best. So why should you worry so much about how others appraise you?”

“...Yeah.”

At the very least, Regis understood how pointless it was to tell other people that he didn’t believe in himself. After all, his lack of confidence wouldn’t change his circumstances—people would still heap their expectations onto him, and there would still be problems thrust before him that he needed to find solutions to.

I shouldn’t lament my lack of confidence, but rather focus on finding my next move.

“Hold your head up with pride, Regis. You do not have to wave to them, but... at least look at them while they see you off.”

“You certainly are a wise woman, Ms. Fanrine.”

“Fufu... You know, Regis, there are people in this world who must shoulder countless expectations simply by virtue of being born. One simply has to get used to it.”

“I see. That’s an interesting way to look at things...”

Somehow, Regis managed to raise his head. Among the lines of troops was a face that he instantly recognized—a certain one-eared soldier. Dukas the conscript stood with his fingers locked in prayer, his hands brandished overhead.

“Thank you, Tactician!” he cried, notably louder than the rest.

Regis remembered his pleas—his desire to keep his family safe. Had High Britannia made it to the capital, the surrounding nations would have likely taken the opportunity to attack as well. Regardless of the result of such a war, Dukas’s family would have been put at considerable risk.

Both he and his family had been saved. That was something to rejoice about.

It was hard to say the eastern front was stable, by any means, but High Britannia’s invasion had been stopped. Regis had managed to protect some lives in his own way.

A faint heat spread through his chest, bringing warmth to the corners of his eyes.

“Was I... useful to somebody...?”

“Your actions saved a million imperial lives,” Fanrine softly replied.

Regis lowered his face into his hands, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Meanwhile, the carriage slipped through the lines of soldiers, picking up speed on its way to the capital.

The fanfare of the bugles grew more and more distant.

On June 10th, in the year 851 on the Belgarian imperial calendar, Regis d’Aurick separated from the Fourth Army.

The streetlights on the main road gave off a warm orange hue. It had unfortunately continued to rain throughout their journey, but they managed to reach the imperial capital of Verseilles by night that same day.

“This takes me back...” Regis said, gazing at the townscape from the carriage window.

“Have you been away for a while?” Fanrine asked from the opposite seat.

“I returned for the ceremony, but the scenery changes quite a bit when there’s a festival going on.”

“I see. It is already late, so perhaps we should visit the Ministry tomorrow.”

“You’re right... I’ll need to book an inn somewhere.”

“Oh, do you not have anywhere to stay?”

“I do have some acquaintances, but I wouldn’t want to suddenly impose on them like that. Plus, I’ll need somewhere to park the carriage.”

“You’re a soldier, aren’t you? Why not ask around the barracks?”

“Where the First Army is stationed? We met under rather... unfortunate circumstances just two months ago. I don’t have the nerve for that.”

“Now that you mention it...”

Regis feared that any room he borrowed from the First Army might soon become a morgue. Just the thought sent a chill down his nape.

“We had a house around the outskirts, once upon a time... We sold it when my sister got married, and I was staying in the academy dorms.”

“What about your parents?”

“...An epidemic took them both. It’s not too uncommon.”

“Is that so...? I can certainly relate; I lost my mother in an epidemic.”

“Really?”

“She succumbed to illness after having Elenore, me, and our younger brother Roland. After that, our father remarried and had another two daughters.”

“Oh, I see.”

Regis recalled that Elenore had mentioned having a third sister who was eight years old. That was a considerable age gap now that he thought back on it, but it made sense if she was the child of a new wife.

Fanrine directed an anxious glance out the window.

“I don’t mean to pry into your private matters, but... is something bothering you?” Regis asked.

“Me? Oh, my apologies... I do not know what came over me.”

“I suppose telling me wouldn’t actually help very much...”

“Oh, that’s not true!” Fanrine replied, suddenly waving her hands. “My brother Roland was on my mind, that is all.”

“Is that so?”

“I am unsure who he takes after, but he can be somewhat extreme... He is currently studying abroad in High Britannia.”

He refused to be schooled in Belgaria, and boasted an ideology that Fanrine was hesitant to bring up. “Is he a liberalist?” Regis asked.

“Troublesomely enough.”

“I can’t deny that they make some good points; we should be free to foster our own sense of values.”

“My! I certainly did not expect this from a soldier—and the princess’s strategist, at that!”

“Please don’t mistake me for a revolutionary. I hear they’ve been gaining a lot more influence as of late... Rash changes will only invite more chaos, but I do agree that the country needs to grow in a better direction. And when that happens, perhaps it would be worthwhile to take various views into consideration. That’s why dipping one’s toes into all sorts of philosophies is very much in the interest of the nation.”

“Fufu... Thank you. I am sure my brother would love to hear that.”

“I know I’m pretty unconvincing though...”

Still, High Britannia? That is rather concerning...

The army marching for the capital had retreated, but they were still within imperial territory and a peace treaty had yet to be negotiated. Hostilities had died down owing to Belgaria losing its emperor and High Britannia no longer having a supply chain, but the two nations were still very much at war.

“Granted, he does send me letters.”

“You’re still in contact with him? That’s a relief.”

“Yes. I have told him to tread carefully.”

“You’ll see him again soon enough; I doubt this war is going to drag on for much longer.”

Regis predicted that Latrielle would end the war in its early stages. The prince had expended too many soldiers in the conflict, and there was an urgent need for him to rebuild the nation’s war fronts. Plus, putting pressure on the nobility meant he would need to remain wary of an insurrection. It was hard to imagine him going on the counteroffensive now; he simply didn’t have the strength.

I’d definitely love to hear what he thinks on the matter...

Fanrine put her hands together. “Oh, right. Regis, please come to my manor.”

“Eh?”

“It is not very large, mind you, but there is space for the carriage, and it is conveniently close to the palace.”

“You mean... on that street where all the nobles line their villas?”

“You are also a noble, you know.”

“I wouldn’t say that...”

The imperial palace was surrounded with rows of noble manors, all so extravagantly splendid that one might assume they were competing. The street was regularly patrolled by guards, and commoners who even came in close proximity would receive stern glares. While Regis could technically be considered a noble himself, there was hardly anywhere that would make him more unsettled.

“I would be quite grateful if you would,” Fanrine added.

“Why do you say that...?”

“The Ministry did instruct me to protect you.”

Protect a third-grade administrative officer?

“I see... So you want to monitor me.”

“The higher-ups are worried. They fear the man who managed to conquer Fort Volks and achieve so much during the war.”

“They’re really overestimating me, then.”

“Fufu... Are you sure? If you put together a plan in earnest, do you not think the Fourth Army could occupy the capital? Can you say with certainty that it would be impossible?”

Regis shrugged. “Just because there are a few clouds in the sky doesn’t mean you need to brace for lightning...”

They must be embellishing the events like some tall tale, he thought. It would be rather troublesome if war reports were being handled in the same way as imperial court gossip.

“Whatever the case, the Ministry ordered me to observe your every action until you leave the capital. Please, do not hesitate to stick around.”

“Hm... I’m surprised you agreed to that. I’m not one to bring peerage into military matters, but Ms. Fanrine, aren’t you from a ducal house?”

“Oh, I had already heard all about you from Elenore, so I did not believe you were as scary as they made you out to be.”

“I see...”

“So when the position opened up, I volunteered.”

“You volunteered for this?!”

“Fufu... After how much my sister talked you up, you can hardly blame me for getting interested. I wanted to see the sort of person you were for myself.”

“Then I’ve probably disappointed you quite a bit... I really haven’t got much going for me.”

“That is your impression. I shall keep mine a secret,” Fanrine said with a wink.

Regis had grown anxious upon hearing that he was visiting a noble’s manor, but there was no doubting that the Tiraso Laverde House was a part of Fourth Princess Argentina’s faction. Its members likely didn’t want to see Latrielle come to power, so perhaps they would even help him gather information.

Considering how the First Army’s knights likely felt about him, Regis would need to take his own safety into consideration. He also needed to look at things from a financial perspective. While he was in the capital on official business, it was his own personal circumstances preventing him from using the barracks; the army would not pay his lodging fees, and those costs would pile up over the month he was due to stay.

In the end, Regis decided it was best to concede. “If you wouldn’t mind, then please lead the way.”

“Aha! Gladly!” Fanrine exclaimed with a childlike grin.

As expected, the young watchdog knight was against this decision, but Fanrine quashed his protests with a proud declaration that this was “official business.”

The Tiraso Laverde manor was so close to the palace that Regis easily would have believed it was an imperial annex—and a large one, at that. They had apparently purchased what had once belonged to another major house.

Upon their arrival, they were welcomed by hordes of servants.

Fanrine carried herself with confidence—it was her house, after all. Her sister Elenore and the head of the house lived in the main manor in the southern regions, so she was apparently the only person from the family who stayed here.

“Please, relax. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Ms. Fanrine.”

“And if you really wish, you can actually make this your home as well.”

“Ha... haha.”

What could she possibly mean by that?

Regis was granted a room at the back of the third floor. It was vast, with a writing desk and a bed so extravagant that it took him by surprise.

No escape route, though...

There was a large window, but jumping from the third story wasn’t something a person could manage without injury—Altina and Eddie notwithstanding. He would need to trust the people of the house. On the bright side, the lack of an emergency exit meant that there were few routes that an outside invader could take.

Regis put down his bags and lowered himself into a chair. It was already growing dark out. Tomorrow was when it would all begin, so for now, he would need to get some proper rest.

“Maybe I could read just a little, though... Before bed. Just a little... Ah, it’s been so long. When was the last time I could kick back with a book like this? Hah...”

✧ ✧ ✧

Of course, that little bit of reading ended up lasting the entire night. Regis only noticed it was morning when a maid knocked on his door to tell him it was time for breakfast.

“Aah, ’tis true that I am an abject failure,” he sighed, his words clearly influenced by the book he had just been immersed in.

I was planning on going out to gather intel early in the morning... he thought, but instead, he decided to have breakfast. He made his way to the dining room with the maid’s guidance.

Fanrine was already seated when he arrived, dressed prim and proper. She had worn a military uniform when she came to Fort Boneire, but now she pulled off a dazzling dress befitting a lady of her stature. Perhaps this was her usual attire.

“Good morning, Regis.”

“Yes, good morning, Ms. Fanrine.”

“Were you, erm... unable to sleep, perhaps? There are bags under your eyes. I can have the bed swapped out, if you so wish.”

“Oh, no, there wasn’t an issue! I just got caught up in a book I was reading.”

“Was it that interesting?”

“Hm... It was pretty average, plus I’d already read it three times during the expedition...”

“And you spent the entire night reading it again?! Why on earth would you do that?!”

“Well, reading is my hobby. I’ve never had the chance to read it cover to cover in one sitting, and soon after I started, I made a few new discoveries.”

“I see... Are you that much of an avid reader?”

“Books are great, you know. I always wanted to work at the military library.”

“I should have expected no less from you, Regis. You truly are a studious man.”

“Oh, the books I choose to read are all purely entertainment. I’ve never considered it studying.”

“Entertainment...?”

“Indeed. Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve visited a bookstore in the capital. I can’t wait! I was initially planning to leave at the crack of dawn, but then I remembered that the stores don’t open until eight. I used to have a full grasp of the business hours and restock schedule of every bookstore I frequented, but my memory is hazy after being away for such a long time. Hah... I really need to restrain myself.”

The clock on the wall indicated that it was only seven. Bookshops, like art galleries and jewelers, were still considered stores for the nobility, so they did not operate in the early morning hours. Commoner stores, in contrast, opened at sunrise, with the stalls securing their spots even earlier than that.

Fanrine tilted her head. “Are you going to a bookstore now?”

“Yes. I’ll only be gone for a bit after breakfast.”

“That is, err, quite troublesome. I need you to come to the Ministry...”

“Oh, of course. We can stop by the bookstore on the way there.”

“The Ministry should be opening its doors right around now, and we need to be there before noon.”

It opens that early? I suppose it has to, given how long it takes them to get anything done... Regis mused before shaking those thoughts from his head. There was nothing better than finishing up his business here as soon as possible. He could gather the information he needed, then return to Fort Volks early.

“Y-You’re right,” he stammered. “To the Ministry we go. We can visit the bookstore on the way back.”

“Please calm down, Regis. You’ve not even eaten breakfast yet.”

“Oh, right. Yes. Of course.”

Regis’s breakfast was even more indulgent than what he had been served during his stay at the palace: the bread was soft, springy and warm, served with honey-drizzled potatoes, a duck roast, and fresh tomatoes; and the aroma of the accompanying tea struck him before his hand had even touched his teacup.

It was delicious. Very delicious, but...

He was so preoccupied with going to the bookstore that the divine flavors barely even registered.

The Ministry of Military Affairs was set up in a corner of the imperial palace, La Branne. They also had a branch in town, from which Regis had received his previous directive—perhaps because he was only a fifth-grade at the time and was essentially being demoted.

Now, however, as he was rising to the rank of third-grade, he was called directly to the palace.

The room he was currently in was excessively decorated, brimming with ornamentation completely unnecessary for desk work. There was one desk with two seats across from it, and at each of the four corners was either a flower vase or a statuette.

After being kept waiting for quite some time, Minister Berard, a man with a peculiarly threatening air to him, made his appearance.

“I don’t care if they call you a war hero, nor do I care if you’re the princess’s favorite—you will not receive any special treatment from me,” he proclaimed without so much as a greeting. “Regulations must be observed no matter what, for that is what forms the shape of a nation!”

For a moment, Regis grew anxious, wondering whether the man had mistaken him for a barbarian of some sort. What he had said was actually quite reasonable, though.

“I share that opinion, sir.”

“Good.”

First, Regis was handed The Makings of a Third-Grade, a book containing everything he would need to know after his promotion. The minister went on and on in his supplementary instruction, his monotonous recitation starting from the basic regulations that even a child would know.

The promotion came with an examination. Perhaps it had already begun; perhaps this droning explanation was the arduous endurance portion. If so, Regis was sure that he was set to fail; his sleep deprivation weighed heavily upon him. He couldn’t help but think that this would all be over much quicker if the minister just allowed him to go and read the book.

Reading is wonderful. It’s something you can enjoy at your own pace. You can skip all the boring parts, and go over the interesting bits again and again. If you come across something that you don’t know or understand, you can just look it up, and no one’s there to judge you for it. Nobody gets angry if you’re nursing a cup of coffee at the same time—heck, you could even eat some bread. They don’t glare or clear their throat no matter how much you slouch, and they certainly don’t criticize your apparent lack of motivation.

“...And that should be everything. Make sure you read that book carefully. There will be an exam in one week,” Berard concluded, the irritation clear in his voice.

“What sort of exam?”

“Raise your hand if you want to ask a question, Aurick!”

The minister—and many others, for that matter—had a fixation on formality. As Regis had yet to receive his peerage or promotion, he was still considered a fifth-grade and a commoner. He didn’t intend to make a stand over something he considered so trivial, though.

Regis raised his hand. It certainly felt like he was participating in a farce of some sort, given that they were the only two people in the room. “Might I ask what manner of exam it is?”

“Oh? Despite your clear lack of motivation, you still want to pass?” Berard asked, folding his arms with a triumphant smile across his lips.

“Er, not really?” Regis replied, cocking his head to one side. “I’m more concerned about returning to Fort Volks before something happens. Whether or not I pass doesn’t matter to me, so long as you let me go.”

“Gh... If you dare fail, you’ll need to retake it! A week later!”

“That sounds troublesome... Can you not just tell me what material to cover?”

“That would make things too easy. You’ll find everything you need to know in that book. If you forget the contents and can’t formulate an answer, you fail.”

“Oh, I just have to give answers from the book? That’s a relief. Then I should do just fine.”

“Hmph! Don’t be so naive! That book is three hundred pages long! Three hundred pages! And you only have a week to read it!”

“Can I take the exam tomorrow?”

“Grr... Don’t get in over your head, Aurick. There’s a practical portion too, you know! I may not look it, but I have trained under the court sword instructor. Now, I’m not saying you have to beat me, but you will have to display the lowest level of swordsmanship expected of a soldier.”

“Eh?”

“Yes, an admin officer should focus on his paperwork, but we have standards. Any commissioned officer of the Belgarian Army must be able to handle himself.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have to admit, though, it really is the bare minimum—pretty much just being able to swing a sword without dropping it. Your status as a commoner matters not; I will observe regulations, and nobody receives special treatment.”

“I can’t...”

“Wh-What?”

“Oh, um, what happens if someone can’t swing a sword...? Say it smacks into their knee when they lower it, or—”

“Who in their right mind would accept a soldier like that?! They’d fail, no two ways about it! We’d have them start over from the academy!”

“Oh dear...”

Berard did have a point. Regis had done so poorly at the academy that, had Marquis Thénezay not hired him, he would have been forced to repeat a year. In fact, he’d technically only graduated as an exception.

There was no doubt in his mind—he was going to fail the exam.

To think Belgaria’s infatuation with physical strength would rear its ugly head here of all places! What a nation we live in! Something must change! And fast!

Regis wasn’t wrong—something did need to change. He needed to improve his swordsmanship, but he was already sure it was much too late to do anything about that. The only thing he could do now was despair.

“Mn?” Seeing that Regis was acting strange, Berard tilted his head. “In any case, the details of the exam are spelled out in the book as well, so read it properly! That is all. You are excused!”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Regis exited the room, walking with the downtrodden gait of a defeated unit’s last survivor.

The Ministry of Nobility down the hall issued Regis a light warning for his failure to answer his summons, but aside from that, they weren’t very harsh at all—rather, they treated him quite courteously. It became evident quite quickly that this was because they were wary of Altina; the majesty of the fourth princess shaped their every exchange.

From both Ministries’ points of view, Regis was the princess’s favorite and a youth who had proven his mettle on the battlefield. But while the Ministry of Military Affairs had responded to this by sending out an officer putting on a stronger front than was necessary, the Ministry of Nobility was coaxing him like a cat, almost as if asking him to put in a good word with the princess.

Regis was similarly handed a book: The Makings of a Chevalier. He wouldn’t be formally tested on it, but someone would stop by in two weeks’ time to ask a few questions and make sure he was up to par. His conferment seemed as though it would end without issue, but the practical portion of his promotion exam still loomed over him.

I knew it. It’s impossible for a failure like me to become a third-grade officer.

✧ ✧ ✧

Waiting in the hall outside the Ministry of Nobility, Fanrine was engaged in conversation with her friends—a gaggle of young noble lasses. The girls all smiled when they eventually spotted Regis, stabbing into him with their inquisitive eyes.

The three canary-like women were whispering amongst themselves, holding up fans to cover their mouths. The pretty garments they wore were straight out of paintings, but Fanrine stood out even among them. She exuded a certain showiness, or perhaps even a luster.

“Good work, Regis. I was just gossiping with my friends.”

“About what...?”

“Fufufu. About your military might.”

Might?! When I’m worried about not being able to pass a simple sword-swinging exam?!

“Um, are you sure you don’t mean military blight? Were you having a laugh?”

The three girls giggled, their laughter like bell chimes.

“See? Isn’t he a funny one?” Fanrine said.

One girl nodded from behind her fan. “He really is exactly as you described him!”

“They say he’s the hero who saved the Empire, so I was sure he would be as frightening as a lion,” added another.

There were apparently rumors spreading about him, but Regis was too scared to ask for the details. As he watched the girls, a certain passage from Baron Vigeville’s Palace of Twilight came to mind:

“Noble girls thirst for entertainment, cowering at the thought of time spent in boredom. Even the most meager of rumors will immediately inflate, and it takes but a week in the imperial court for a kitten to become a tiger. They idolize men with military exploits as they would knights from fairy tales, and likewise fall in love.”

No, it couldn’t be... Regis thought with a wry smile. It was published in a book, sure, but he wasn’t childish enough to juxtapose himself with the strong and smart heroes the baron was depicting.

However, before he knew it, he was surrounded.

“Sir Regis, please tell us how you beat down those soldiers from High Britannia.”

“Me? Oh, I’m not the one who fought them.”

“Ooh, that’s such a unique uniform you have on. I’ve hardly been able to make out the ones I’ve seen thus far due to all the medals, so it’s rare to see one so pristine. Why, it looks rather manly.”

“This is the uniform of the Beilschmidt border regiment, and my rank certainly isn’t anything impressive...”

“Fufufu. This is the first time I’ve met a gentleman who refuses to brag. How wonderful. Absolutely wonderful, I say.”

“You’re quite the intellectual, Sir Regis. I admire that.”

It’s hopeless.

Singing men’s praises came as easily to them as breathing, for that was the secret to success in the imperial court. He knew it was all empty flattery done out of courtesy, but he could still feel a cold sweat running down his back.

“Err... I have somewhere I need to be. Pardon me!”

When Regis tried to slip through them, however, they refused to move. He ultimately found himself planted in one of their chests.

“Oh.”

“My! How bold.”

“Hey...!”

Regis frantically pulled away. The frilly cloth and soft sensations had sent his head spinning.

With a bitter smile on her face, Fanrine gave him a push in the right direction. “You shouldn’t tease him too much, okay? Can’t you see he’s uncomfortable?”

The noble girls’ eyes sparkled.

“Haaah! He’s a military hero, yet he’s also like a puppy!” one exclaimed. “Cute!”

“A-Ahem, would you like to come to our next tea party?” another bashfully asked.

They see me as a pet?!

With Fanrine’s protection, Regis managed to escape the hall, eventually finding himself outside. The wind whisked away the lingering scent of perfume.

“Hah... That was... something...”

“I’m sorry, Regis. I didn’t think they would take to you that well.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s rare to come across soldiers like me.”

“You’re right. When it comes to the troops you see around these parts, they have uniforms emblazoned with medals, and they brag about their muscles and achievements.”

“Haha... I have neither medals nor muscles.”

“And that’s precisely why they like you.”

“They sure have a strange way of showing it...”

Regis didn’t want to be someone’s dog. He didn’t mind being ordered around, but if possible, he wanted to support someone with their own ambitions. Once again, he thought of Altina and his promise to write to her.

But it seemed that could wait for now. By the time he realized it, his legs were already leading him to the bookstore.

✧ ✧ ✧

It was a splendid two-story building facing the main road, its signboard consisting of white text over a green background. Inside were rows upon rows of shelves, each lined with countless books.

“Waaaaaah...”

Regis felt as though he might just melt away. In fact, he wouldn’t have minded becoming one with the air that occupied this space.

“Incredible,” Fanrine murmured as she looked around curiously. “I’ve never seen so many books before. There are more here than our personal collection.”

“There are books at the manor?”

“My grandfather sometimes buys them, but we’re more often given them by our business partners. Our house deals in paper products too, you see.”

“Hm, that sounds nice.”

“My family does not read much. I’ll show you where they are when we return, so please, read as much as you want.”

Regis’s eyes widened. Read as much as you want—did such splendid words truly exist in the Belgarian language? He hadn’t heard anything like that since Marquis Thénezay took him on.

“You are a wonderful person, Ms. Fanrine.”

“Eh? Just over a few books?!”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to take you up on your offer.”

“R-Right... You really do like reading, don’t you?”

“I would consider myself an avid reader, yes.”

Fanrine’s collection was certainly enticing, but Regis had been away from the capital for half a year now, and there were a number of new series that he wanted to buy.

He found his home in books written purely for entertainment. He liked dramas, miscellaneous ramblings, and works of pure fiction. The words decorating a certain cover captured his current emotional state perfectly:

To Hell with Dying When I Can Read.

Precisely. He wanted to enjoy all the stories the world had to offer, flipping the pages by his own hand, persevering alone without bothering anyone...

“—is? Regis?”

“Hah?!”

“Um, are you quite all right?” Fanrine asked. “I can call a cab if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, I’m fine. Sorry. I was so happy that I went to dreamland for a moment there.”

“Are you really okay?!”

“Maybe not... But this is the norm for me.”

He scoured the shelf, feeling so light on his feet that he could have taken to the skies. Each and every book here went for a fraction of what they would have cost on the border, assuming he was even lucky enough to find them there. They were still quite expensive, but this was as low as they went.

Most importantly, the selection was marvelous.

The new volumes of the series he wanted were all right where he could see them. There were plenty of interesting-looking books he had never seen before as well.

“What do I do? Have I wandered into heaven?”

“Hey, Regis... What’s that over there?”

“Hm?”

He followed Fanrine’s finger to the bookshop’s café area.

“This place was originally a café, so they decided to incorporate that aspect into the store. You can bring the books you’ve bought there and read them over a cup of coffee. It’s a bit of a luxury, don’t you think?”

“A luxury, you say?” Fanrine muttered, eyeing the café curiously.

“I’m going to be some time. Why not have a drink while you wait?”

“Oh, no... I want to stay with you.”

“Surveillance duty, eh? You certainly are a hard worker.”

“Perish the thought! I want to stay by your side for personal reasons.”

“Y-Yeah?”

In the midst of their conversation, Regis spotted a familiar face at the back of the shop. He raised a hand to greet her.

“Hey, Mrs. Carol.”

“Eh?! Oh, Regis!”

The earnest-looking woman tidying the books jogged over. She had black hair styled in a shoulder-length bob and wore an indigo apron.

“Hello.”

“It really is you, Regis! What are you doing here?! You haven’t come to haunt the store, have you?!”

“Hahah... I’m alive, don’t worry.”

It did seem likely that he’d haunt a bookstore when he eventually passed, though, and that was the most troublesome place to find a ghost. He would need to make sure that he didn’t die prematurely.

“You’ve become the talk of the town,” Carol said, her gaze suddenly turning to Fanrine. “Hm? Who is this lovely lady?”

“Ms. Fanrine from House Tiraso Laverde.”

Once introduced, Fanrine gave a dignified bow. Unlike the bookshops on the border, this store was frequented by noblewomen, so she did not feel out of place.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

“Welcome to our store. I’m the owner, Carol de Talleyrand.”

“I’ve never seen so many books before. It honestly took me by surprise.”

“Is this your first time visiting? If so, would you like a coffee on the house? You too, Regis. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.”

“Thank you. I just might take you up on that.”

Fanrine looked a little shocked. “Um, Regis... do you have a special relationship with Carol here?”

“Special? There’s no doubt in my mind that she understands me better than anyone in the world.”

“More than...”

“I mean, this is where I’ve bought most of the books I’ve read.”

“I really appreciate your patronage,” Carol chimed in. “I’ve stocked plenty of stories that you might be interested in.”

“Haha... I don’t think my pockets are deep enough for them all.”

Fanrine gave a relieved smile. “I see, so your relationship is that of a merchant and a customer.”

“What else would it be...?” Regis asked, cocking his head to the side.

They sat around a table in the corner. Regis took a sip of coffee, closing his eyes as the nostalgic flavor washed over his tongue.

“Phew...”

“Hey Regis, do you know this one?” Carol asked, pulling a book from her bag.

“Is that... a new volume of Cuer’s A Meteor’s Journey? But hasn’t that series already concluded?”

“Take a closer look. This is a collection of short stories released after it was finished.”

A short story collection?! That’s a thing? Actually, on second thought, I suppose it’s not the first of its kind.

“That’s delightful. I think I’ll take it.”

“Pleasure doing business with you. Fufufu. And did you hear about this one coming out?”

“Eh? A continuation of Baron Drawnou’s Tea and Treat?! But the original released over two years ago!”

“Turns out it was a two-parter. This one’s the conclusion.”

“Argh... I don’t have much money to spare, but if that’s the conclusion... I may as well get it.”

“We also have the latest work by Count Ludosel.”

“Hah... The count... Why doesn’t he finish up his previous series first? I’ll still buy it, though.”

“Right, right. I also thought you might like this other one.”

“Hm, a vampire has to put on a play? And they’re acting as a vampire in the play?!”

“You like those ‘play within a play’ ones, right?”

“Hahaha... I’m no match for you, Carol. Of course I’m buying it.”

There was a dubious look on Fanrine’s face. “Regis, just how many books are you going to buy?”

“Whoops... I nearly forgot myself. Books are important, but I’m here for something else today.”

Carol tilted her head. “Oh, that’s rare. How can I help?”

“Err... It’s something that I can’t say too loudly...”

Regis first looked at Fanrine. Her house was part of the fourth princess’s faction, and he didn’t think she would do much to get in his way. But the fact remained that she was there to keep an eye on him.

Which side is she on?

Fanrine was elegantly leaning into her seat, her eyes on an open book. The title read, The Path of Dreams. It seemed to be a collection of poems.

“My, what wonderful verse. It’s so enthralling that I could very well forget everything going on around me...” she thought aloud. Her words sounded deliberately forced, indicating that she would turn a blind eye to their conversation.

Regis turned back to Carol. “The truth is, there’s something I want you to look into.”

Carol looked to her left, then her right. There didn’t seem to be any customers paying them any attention. “I’ll do whatever’s within my power,” she replied.

“You have a broad circle of associates, Carol. You know quite a few people related to the court and plenty of other reliable individuals.”

“I’m not sure I can live up to your expectations. You’re probably the most reliable person I know.”

“Eh...?”

“They’re calling you a national hero, you know. The Battlefield Wizard, the Monster Tactician, the Princess’s Shield—names straight out of fiction.”

“Pff—?!” Regis made a strange sound.

“Fufufu... And to think you used to be the Green Turtle. Oh, pardon me.”

“No, at this point, I’d rather be the turtle... Hah...”

“But to me, you’ve always been Regis the Reader. So, what do you want me to investigate?”

“Please have a look at this.”

Regis handed over a book with a letter stuck between its pages. Carol opened and read it on the spot. For just a brief moment, her expression clouded over.

“Oh my... That’s rather concerning.”

“Please tell me if you find out anything. I’ll drop by every day while I’m in the capital.”

“Very well. I’ll be waiting for you.”

He had spelled out all the important details in the letter: he was asking her to look into the deaths of the emperor and his consort.

Carol herself did not have the power to investigate the imperial court, but among her clientele were people who made a living off of gathering intelligence. A bookstore was a place where various talents gathered, and her talent was remembering the tastes of every customer to discern the perfect recommendations.

She did not just sell books; she oftentimes developed a deeper relationship with her customers. Using her connections, she would probably be able to gather more information than the Fourth Army’s spies who had only just been sent out.

“Incidentally, Regis...” Carol began, changing the topic. “I know you might not want to talk about it, but would you tell me about the war with High Britannia?”

“Is this what you want as payment?”

“I’m not going to force you, but there are a few people coming around, asking questions. Reporters from the weekly paper and such. They know you and I are pretty close, and I feel bad sending them away empty-handed.”

I see. Reporters might have information about what goes on in the palace... Once he started considering it as negotiation fodder, talking about the war became much easier.

“Got it. But nothing really happened that was wondrous enough to be worth embellishing. They might just be disappointed.”

“There are people in the world who see worth not in dramatized stories, but in the plain truth.”

“I get where they’re coming from. I do enjoy fiction, but sometimes I just want to know what really happened.”

Regis spoke of his experiences on the battlefield in as much detail as he could. Halfway through, he noticed that Carol had started taking notes.

Fanrine, meanwhile, read her poems in silence.

That night—

Upon their return to the Tiraso Laverde manor, Regis and Fanrine were greeted with many reverent bows. One of the maids came out front to meet them.

“Welcome back, milady. Welcome back, Sir Aurick.”

Her address sounded so foreign that, for a moment, Regis didn’t realize that it was also directed at him.

“Ah, are you talking to me?”

“You had a visitor while you were away, Sir Aurick.”

“Here?”

“Yes, they left a letter.”

The paper that the maid held out had been stamped with the seal of the Ministry of Military Affairs.

“What’s going on...?” Regis asked.

“I told the Ministry you were staying at my house,” Fanrine answered. “They’ll start digging if they don’t know your whereabouts.”

“Oh... That makes sense.”

She had been tasked with surveillance, and that included reporting on his movements. It would be troublesome if she reported on their conversation at the bookstore, though...

Fanrine smiled. “I’m not a fool. A hunting cat hides her claws, as they say.”

“I see...”

But a change in circumstance might yield a change in her intent. Regis knew that he needed to be wary, but for now, he decided to trust her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to make any moves.

He undid the wax seal on the letter. While it had been sent through the Ministry, it was a summons from Latrielle.

✧ ✧ ✧

Afternoon, the next day—

Regis once again paid a visit to the palace. Latrielle’s personal room was near the section used by the Ministry of Military Affairs. He had been there once before.

A soldier in light armor stood before the large door, giving Regis a crisp salute as he approached. “Third-Grade Admin Officer Aurick. Please wait a moment.”

“Of course.”

Regis was starting to grow accustomed to people recognizing him. This was his third time meeting with Latrielle, so there were surely people who knew his face by now.

The guard knocked on the door and announced Regis’s arrival, then waited a moment before opening it.

“Enter!”

“Thank you.”

Regis returned the man’s salute and walked into the room.

Latrielle was sitting on a finely made leather chair, with papers spread all over his large work desk. There was no chessboard this time. A steel protector was stretched across his forehead, partially obscured beneath his golden locks. His red eyes glanced at Regis.

“I’m sorry for calling you all the way here, Regis d’Aurick.”

“Oh, no. I should have come here yesterday.”

“I’ve already received your report, don’t worry.”

The report that Regis had sent in was indeed one of the papers on Latrielle’s desk. He grew anxious, wondering whether he had made a mistake of some sort. As he racked his brain, he realized that he had never mentioned what happened to the Mercenary King after their battle. He had also sent a division east just before leaving for the capital, so that hadn’t yet been reported either.

“Um... If there’s something that I’ve missed, I’ll correct it at once...”

“Commendable spirit, but that can wait. I want you to look at this,” Latrielle said, pointing at a single map on his desk.

“This is...”

It was a map of the area around Grebeauvoir, a fortified city to the northwest serving as the base of the Empire’s Third Army. While it was not on the same level as Fort Volks, it was supposed to be quite formidable.

“We received an urgent report last night,” Latrielle sighed.

“From Grebeauvoir?”

“It seems the city has fallen to High Britannia.”

“What?!”

Regis was surprised they had managed to capture and occupy a fortified city, especially given that he had expected them to make for either Germania or the coast.

“There were Germanian flags spotted among the enemy army,” Latrielle continued.

“Have the two forged an alliance? If so... I can’t believe it.”

“Grebeauvoir is the Third Army’s base, but the expedition meant they had less than half their usual numbers stationed there. High Britannia must have seen its chance.”

“Right... but how did they take it so quickly?”

“More details should arrive tonight, but we can’t just sit around and wait. There are many civilians living in that town. Although we don’t have a grasp on the situation, we have to begin forming a unit to rescue them.”

“That sounds appropriate.”

“But that introduces another problem: it is possible that this is merely a diversion, and the enemy is still aiming for Verseilles.”

“Right. While a large army is marching toward an empty Grebeauvoir, the enemy might take a detour to assault the newly defenseless capital.”

“If only it had protective walls...”

Under the arrogant notion that Belgaria was too powerful for an enemy army to get anywhere close to the capital, it was built without walls. Verseilles had been the capital for three hundred years now, and while it had thus far lived up to that claim, this overconfidence was the reason they couldn’t send too many soldiers to Grebeauvoir.

Regis cocked his head. “Are you ordering the Fourth Army to take it back?”

“No, they have an important duty to defend Fort Volks. Besides, Grebeauvoir is the base of the Third Army, whose soldiers are already here at the capital. There is no questioning who we should send.”

“Right...”

In that case, the question was why he had called Regis. Perplexed as he was, he decided to listen quietly and see where this was going.

Latrielle produced a map of an even wider area, then began placing several pieces atop it. “At present, we have seventy thousand soldiers in the capital. Grebeauvoir has High Britannia’s sixteen thousand, and we can expect Germanians as well.”

“I see, I see...”

“In your professional opinion, Regis, how many troops would you send out?”

“Eh? I, uh... can’t really make a decision like that. We don’t know the scope of the enemy. But, to ensure the security of the capital, I would suggest leaving at least fifty thousand here.”

It was unknown how many troops Germania had invested in the operation, but judging by past records, they would have probably sent around twenty thousand. Considering High Britannia’s advanced artillery, even if the imperial army were to focus on point defense, they would need around fifty thousand soldiers to protect the capital. With those numbers, they would be able to buy enough time for their allies to gather.

“So you’ve come to a similar conclusion,” Latrielle murmured. “Twenty thousand...”

“But that’s not enough to hold a siege. Perhaps we should surround them and cut off their supplies...”

“The imperial army has already suffered a harsh blow at High Britannia’s hand. It will take a few years before we have regained the manpower to conquer Grebeauvoir head-on.”

“How about guaranteeing their safe passage to the western coast in exchange for them giving up the city?”

“Hm...” Latrielle glared at the map. It seemed that this suggestion wasn’t welcomed too warmly.

“Are you worried about how the other nations will react?”

“If you understand that much, I see no need to explain it. Now that His Majesty has passed, all eyes are gathered to see what the new Belgaria will be like. If we open with such weak-armed negotiations, we will be subject to a level of ridicule we could never recover from.”

“Then why not proceed with the twenty-thousand encirclement?”

“Our enemy easily managed to capture a base near the capital... Will folding our arms and waiting for them to surrender demonstrate the might of the Empire?”

“That is... Well, probably not...”

“We cannot show weakness. If they make light of us, the surrounding nations will flood in all at once. I cannot say whether that would spell our defeat, but it is a situation we must avoid nonetheless.”

“That certainly is a terrifying thought... We should start fostering more peaceful relations to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“But what we need right now is to show that the imperial army is alive and well. It takes time for national relations to change.”

“...Right.”

Grebeauvoir needed to be retaken—that was Latrielle’s decision, and Regis did not disagree. It would be impossible to establish peaceful relations with the surrounding countries in a matter of days, especially when they suspected that the imperial army was weakening.

Latrielle put a hand to his chest. “I intend to lead this operation.”

“Personally?!”

“Yes, and I am willing to bring the First Army. Combined with the Third Army that has lost its commander, we will be twenty thousand strong.”

“Do you intend to capture a fortified city with twenty thousand men...?”

Latrielle gave a dreadful nod. He was serious. They would presumably be up against an army of forty thousand who now not only had the latest guns and cannons but also a sturdy stronghold. There was no way he could win.

“I heard that you captured Fort Volks with a mere two thousand men.”

“We were lucky...”

Regis could feel the sweat beading beneath his uniform. He was tempted to say something along the lines of, “That sounds like a challenging task, but I wish you luck,” and then be on his way.

Latrielle stood, walking around the large table until he was right before Regis’s eyes. The aura he exuded was different from when the tactician had last met him; it was as though he had grown a size larger. Perhaps the mindset that he would be crowned emperor had changed him.

“I know that you are supporting Argentina to take me down,” he said bluntly.

Regis shook his head. “The princess’s goal is simply to do away with war.”

“As we are now, we have no right to speak of the future. Not when the Empire could cease to be in its entirety.”

“Right...”

Latrielle held out his right hand. It was the hand with which he gripped his sword—the hand of a knight used to fighting on the front lines. His skin was rough and calloused, his joints bulged out, and his nails were thick.

“We share a vested interest. For the Empire’s future, would you participate in a plan to recapture Grebeauvoir?”

This probably wasn’t a trick: while the Empire could only mobilize twenty thousand men, they couldn’t leave Grebeauvoir alone. Trying to negotiate peace wasn’t an option either. In order to prove themselves to the other nations, they would need to recover the city even at a numerical disadvantage. Latrielle was seeking assistance from Regis because he had actually pulled off a similar operation before.

Fanrine’s words echoed in his head.

“Regis, those who are highly evaluated are also burdened with high expectations. This fact does not change, no matter how little self-confidence one might have. Successes bring with them the anticipation of even further successes. It is just as unavoidable as failures being scorned.”

Latrielle went on. “A large number of civilians live in Grebeauvoir, and I presume they didn’t have the time to evacuate. Lives will be saved if we make haste.”

“Urh...”

“I am not trying to change your position. You will remain with the Fourth Army. Your transfer will merely be temporary, for this mission alone, and once we have recovered Grebeauvoir, I will arrange for you to be returned to Fort Volks at once. Your promotion and conferment can be done on the battlefield.”

“Is that true?”

“I am the marshal general and second prince. I have enough authority.”

“Um... what about the practical exam?”

“How could any weak soldiers possibly exist in an army that reclaimed a fortified city with only twenty thousand men?”

“I might not be able to propose the sort of splendid plan that you’re expecting...”

“Just promise that you’ll do your best as a staff officer—that’s enough for me. If things don’t work out, then my own poor foresight is to blame.”

Regis would apparently be treated as a staff officer, a position greater than what even a third-grade administrative officer deserved. His adjutant Germain, for reference, was a first-grade.

Being exempt from the practical exam was, of course, a huge bonus, but more importantly, Latrielle wasn’t wrong when he said that many lives were on the line. Regis didn’t know whether his presence would be of any use, but... working alongside Latrielle as a staff officer would surely give him a better idea of the man’s intentions than snooping around outside.

If their attempt to reclaim Grebeauvoir proved successful, it would raise Latrielle’s reputation, but it was already a bit late to be worrying about that. Even a failure wouldn’t be enough to eradicate his chances of taking the throne.

Working as Latrielle’s staff officer would no doubt be Regis’s best opportunity to learn about the second prince’s future plans. It was the perfect position to glean the information he needed to guide Altina.

And so, Regis came to his decision. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll be of any use to you, but... I’ll do everything in my power to help,” he said, holding out his right hand.

“You have my gratitude.”

Latrielle’s large hand grabbed his own. In it, Regis could feel the strength of La Dame Blanche, the great white mountain.