Chapter 3: Under My Flag
Chapter 3: Under My Flag
Regis had his book open in the conference room.
“Hmm...”
“Good morning! You’re up early.” Altina appeared, wiping her neck with a handkerchief.
“Hey.” Regis returned the greeting. “...I’m not sure whether I should call this early or late.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t slept?”
“There was something I had to look into.”
“This book?”
Altina glanced down at what Regis was so invested in.
“Oh, no, I already finished looking into it... But the book I referenced was so interesting, you see.”
“Some things never change. What’s this book about, then?”
“The origins of and legends behind flags and crests. For example, this one...”
He turned to a page on the empire’s flag—seven swords drawn over a red cloth. She approached from the side and nestled up next to him, lowering her eyes to the book.
“Ah, that one.”
There was one hanging in that very room.
Regis then flipped to another page—one that depicted an array of swords on a white backdrop.
“The flag actually used to look like this.”
“Almost a white flag of surrender.”
“But, as it turns out, that’s not actually the reason they changed it.”
“Hmm...”
Altina reached out her hand and flipped through a few more pages. Regis glanced between her expression and the book.
“...Pretty interesting, right?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Incidentally, the flag used by the Beilschmidt border regiment was changed to Sir Jerome’s house crest back when he was appointed.”
“Oh, so that’s what that is.”
Another banner hung on the wall beside the empire’s. It was a deep red, featuring a black spear and lion—the flag of the house of Beilschmidt.
It wasn’t uncommon for a regiment to fly the flag of their commander’s house. The army of Marquis Thénezay, where Regis had previously worked, had done the same.
“How should I put this...” Altina continued. “They’re all red.”
“It’s customary for a noble’s flag to use the same red base as the empire. The church uses black and purple, while the common folk use green.”
“Hmm... What about blue and yellow?”
“Blue doesn’t have much to do with status... Rather, if you were to wave a blue flag, it would just melt into the skies and seas.”
“Ah. So it’d be hard to see.”
“Though, because of that, there are some who claim it’s the color of freedom.”
“I see.”
“And yellow is often used by the Germanian Federation, so it’s not too popular in Belgaria.”
“Ahaha... Then, what, do they hate red over there?”
“They think bright red is vulgar, so they tend to use dark brown instead.”
“So it’s vulgar...”
Altina pinched at her own hair and furrowed her brow. Her hair was, after all, a glossy and vivid shade of red.
Regis waved his hand dismissively.
“I don’t think it’s vulgar at all. It’s, umm... It’s very charming.”
“Pardon?”
“Err... Nothing...”
“One more time, one more time.”
“Oh, no...”
“One more time, one more time!”
“No, no, no...”
✧ ✧ ✧
The earth below was carpeted by thick snow as the carriage departed through the southern gate. It strayed from the road just as Fort Sierck was out of sight.
A harsh gale picked up as the carriage took this large detour, lowering the hood the coachman wore and untucking her crimson hair, which fluttered in the wind behind her.
“Brr...”
“Are you okay, Altina?” asked Regis.
“Of course,” nodded the girl driving. “I’m great at driving carriages. Don’t you know?”
“Well, I had a hunch... but one-handed?”
She had been given a professional sentence of a three month recovery, so naturally her left arm was still fixed in place. Though it seemed to be healing quite favorably.
“One hand, one leg... If I say I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“...Just take things slowly.”
“I’m not going to mess up again.”
Altina deftly tugged at the reins with her right hand, regulating the horses to ensure they didn’t go too fast.
An injury to their horse’s leg had previously left them stranded, and so there were two horses pulling the wagon today. It was an extravagant military carriage that even sported oil lamps as headlights. Its large loading tray was stuffed with food stock and cloth; goods that were to be used in negotiations.
As they strayed further from the road, they descended an uneven slope.
“Whoa!?”
Regis nearly fell from the carriage, clinging to the grip beside his seat.
“Try not to fall off.”
“Then how about we go a bit slower...?”
“It’ll get dark!”
“But we’re nearly there al— Hyah!?”
“And don’t scream so much, you’ll spook the horses!”
When the carriage had shaken enough to make his bottom ache, their destination finally came in sight: A hill of dry grass coated with a thin veil of snow. A single large tree sprouted from its gentle summit.
As their carriage approached, one man appeared. Four others stood a little further away. They all wore clothes made from pelts and adorned with feathers.
The empire called them barbarians, but Regis now saw them as the people of Bargenheim.
The man standing directly before them was Diethardt.
Altina stopped the carriage and leaped down from the cabman’s perch.
«Sorry to keep you waiting! It’s been a while!»
«Indeed.»
Regis, meanwhile, was having great trouble climbing down from the wagon.
«Pleasure... Sorry for... keeping you.»
«Long time no see, Tactician.»
A gentle color came to Diethardt’s cheeks as he spoke, and almost immediately, Altina stepped between the two young men.
«We brought food and blankets. Feel free to use them.»
«...I would rather hear your request before I accept any advances.»
«These aren’t payment. Think of them as gifts.»
«So they have nothing to do with your business here?»
«Well, if you don’t need them, we can always just take them back.»
«I see... You’re as harsh as ever. We’ll graciously accept.»
After a bow, the men behind Diethardt began to unload the goods from the luggage tray. Altina spoke up as they continued their work.
«Now then, it’s cold, so why don’t we get down to business?»
«Very well...»
«As it turns out, we’re going to capture Fort Volks!»
Her conversation partner looked back at her grimly.
«...That does not sound like a sane course of action.»
«If we don’t follow the order, we’ll be made out as traitors. And we can’t fight the First Army.»
«The empire truly is rotten.»
«That’s precisely why we need to fight... Regis thought up the plan, so I’m sure it’ll work out one way or another.»
Diethardt turned to him with eyes of disbelief, causing Regis to awkwardly scratch his head.
«I’m not confident we can do it, but... we don’t have a choice,» Altina continued.
«I see. Such is life... I assume the fact you’re telling me this means you want us to take part in the attack?»
Altina nodded.
«That’s right. But don’t misunderstand—I won’t have you charging straight at that hive of cannons. I wouldn’t wish that on my men or yours.»
Diethardt tilted his head.
To take a fort, it was common practice to attack with enough brute force to overwhelm the opponent’s defense. Standard procedures would have them tread over their fallen comrades to reach the walls, and once these had been breached, they would engage the enemy until their artillery had been suppressed and their main gate opened. That was how victory was usually attained.
Those were the very fundamentals Diethardt and his men had followed in their attack on Fort Sierck. Their plan had been to conceal themselves in the blizzard so as to avoid setting off the cannon fire.
«What is your plan, Tactician?»
«I do have an idea, for what it’s worth.»
Regis sent a cautious look to the men unloading the carriage. He contemplated for a moment.
«...This plan is one I would categorize as an underhanded scheme... The fewer people who know about it, the better. If necessary, I can tell you alone, Mr. Diethardt. Are you all right with that?»
It was now Diethardt’s turn to contemplate.
«Do I need to know the full plan to play my part in it?»
«You do not.»
«Hm... Then speak not. I don’t believe you’ll lead us into a trap at this juncture, Tactician.»
«It’s still dangerous, though.»
«I would not doubt it. Such is my debt to you. And, more importantly...»
«Mn?»
But Diethardt chose to hold his tongue.
He had urged the tactician to say only what was necessary, but Regis checked with Altina, just in case.
“Princess?”
“If he says it’s fine, why don’t we just go with that?”
“Understood.”
Regis condensed the information and briefed Diethardt. The men who had now finished unloading the supplies watched silently from a distance as the plan was carefully explained, one step at a time.
Once he had heard everything, Diethardt gave a hearty nod.
«...Affirmative. We will carry it out without fail.»
«Many thanks!» Altina exclaimed.
This time, Diethardt firmly shook the hand the princess extended to him. Then, he exchanged a handshake with Regis.
«Thank you.»
«I shall repay my debt to the young princess. For the honor of my country... and my love for her tactician.»
«You mean that in a friendly, kinship sort of way, right!?»
The intrepid young man leaked a slight smile.
An urgency burning in her eyes, Altina offered a concluding bow.
The tanned lion pelt mantle flourished in the wind as he turned away, and he and his comrades disappeared into the depths of the snowy forest beyond.
✧ ✧ ✧
The Germanian Federation was vast. Twenty-two kingdoms and duchies, large and small, gathered together to form a single nation.
However, their sovereign state, San Preussen, was far from perfect, and infighting often broke out between its member states.
The grand duchy of Varden belonged to the Federation, and since its foundation its land had been threatened by neighboring lands—especially the Belgarian empire—a number of times. But the situation had taken a complete turn with the construction of Fort Volks.
The budget required for war could be safely reduced by a large margin.
Varden’s mountain ranges had always been blessed with an abundance of iron ore and their soil was plentiful with natural resources. This considerable decrease in their required expenses put the state in especially favorable financial standing within the Federation.
Using its surplus funds, Varden would go on to hire accomplished mercenaries, granting them good-quality weapons and keeping their artillery in top shape.
As their national power grew, the state endeavored to cultivate new land in the forests the barbarians called home.
✧ ✧ ✧
Holger was one of the mercenaries who had drifted in, having heard of the grand duchy’s warm reception to his ilk.
He would turn twenty-eight this year and had been hired half a year prior. While he was a veteran in combat, as mercenaries went, he was a newcomer to Fort Volks, and so was still being treated as a new recruit.
Mounting his horse, he galloped out to the main gate, seemingly unconcerned with the heavily falling snow. An urgent request for reinforcements had come in from the civilians clearing the forest: A number of barbarians had been spotted.
And so, they ventured into the forest to put them down. Twenty cavalry. Only the one leading the charge was a knight of Varden; the rest were mercenaries.
The breath of man and horse alike turned to a white fog that trailed behind them, and the snowstorm grew stronger by the minute. Holger cursed to himself.
Good grief... Those barbarians just had to cause trouble on such a godforsaken day... Can’t those eyesores just learn to hibernate?
Neither the reclaimed land, nor the grand duchy, nor even Fort Volks itself spurred any deep feelings of attachment from Holger. A mercenary fights only for himself, which made having to chase down barbarians who had fled like hightailing beasts all the more soul-crushing.
The forest thickened. Twenty horsemen proceeded in single file. Withered branches piled over with snow made the already cloudy sky even darker.
They had escaped this way, according to their intel. The knight at the lead was supposed to be following their trail.
Holger’s elderly warhorse strayed from the line.
“Hey now!”
He tugged the reins to bring the crumbling animal back on track. Don’t make this any more troublesome than it has to be! he scolded, all of a sudden growing anxious.
We haven’t chased them too far, have we?
He looked to the knight leading the unit. It was hard to offer advice from his lowly position, but could his horse have demanded rest because it had sensed danger? Was it trying to get me to reconsider? he thought.
A lone arrow pierced through the air. It collided with the shoulder of the knight’s light armor, bouncing off with a metallic din.
An ambush!?
War cries suddenly rose from the forest depths as if signaled by the arrow’s twang. A harmony of shouts stacked on top of one another, and the ground seemed to tremble as a thunder of footsteps approached; they had more than a mere ten or twenty people.
The knight at the lead hurriedly stopped his horse, raising a nervous shriek.
“B-Barbarians!”
“Fool! Don’t stop!” Holger inadvertently found himself yelling at his superior. He had stopped, but the line of horsemen behind him meant he had no way to turn back.
Their only option was to weave through the trees and then make a U-turn back in the direction they’d come from.
This idea wasn’t novel by any means, and in moments the other mercenaries had changed the orientation of their horses and scattered. No one had any obligation to save the foolish knight; running was their best chance of survival.
It was said the white flag didn’t work on barbarians. They were beasts on the hunt; avengers driven by hatred; demons who had been abandoned by God. Rumor had it they ate men alive, slowly tearing them limb from limb.
Holger could feel a detestable sweat on his back. He could hear the rumble of countless footsteps further down their path of retreat.
“We’re surrounded!” someone shouted in what was almost a hysterical shriek. The mercenaries had moved to retreat, only to have their one remaining escape closed off. They regrouped into a tight formation without the need for an order.
The extraordinary tension in the air had even the horses stifle their breath. Holger and the other riders stood in the very depths of hell.
The barbarians finally appeared. Their bodies were draped in the pelts of slain beasts and they brandished various axes and swords. Many were speaking with strange, threatening elocutions. What idiot had reported there were only a few of them? They had such a large gathering that they had now formed a sturdy wall around them.
“I hear they devour humans alive...” one of the mercenaries groaned.
“A-Anything but that!”
Another, younger mercenary drew his dagger and pressed it against his own throat. He had turned eighteen just the other day, having bragged to his colleagues that the dagger was a present from his parents back home.
Suicide, eh? Not the worst way to go... Yet, despite the thought, Holger placed his hand on the dagger and stopped the young man. He didn’t have a reason for doing so; there was no chance they would survive.
The young man met Holger with uneasy eyes, as if questioning why he had stopped his hand. No words passed the boy’s lips as he awaited his answer.
Holger considered it again, but he really didn’t have a reason. What was he supposed to say? That he shouldn’t give up? That they can find a way out so long as they stay alive? That he shouldn’t die before his elders? They were all hollow phrases devoid of any use or substance. He hadn’t made a practice of carrying around sensible words for such a situation.
So instead...
“Follow me!”
Holger drew the sword from his hip.
Their enemies were numerous, but they had twenty cavalry. As long as they raced as one—as a single spear—there was a chance just a few of them might make it out alive...
From the barbarians that surrounded them, a man dressed in conspicuously gaudy clothes made his way forward. He wore the skin of a lion as a cape.
“Brave. But we have invested one thousand troops into this mission. I should warn you of your recklessness,” the man said in fluent Germanian.
“A barbarian just...”
“My name is Diethardt. I shall hear yours in return.”
“Holger. Are you really a barbarian? Or are you soldiers from another nation of Germania?”
“Neither. This forest is our territory. We are warriors of the nation of Bargenheim.”
I’ve sure as hell never heard of you! Holger cursed internally.
“What are you going to do to us? Are the rumors true? That you’re gonna eat us alive?”
“Climb down from your horses, throw down your swords. If you answer our questions, you’ll be free in two months...”
“Wha—!?”
He didn’t know the reasoning behind his generous offer, but to mercenaries who were prepared for death in such a desperate situation, it was a proposal straight from the heavens.
Holger exchanged a look with the barbarian.
The young man who had been about to take his own life immediately dismounted his horse. He put down his dagger and the sword at his waist and dropped to his knees. Then, he placed his hands together in prayer.
“Erbarme dich, mein Gott!”
As the other mercenaries quickly followed suit, Holger refused to take his eyes from Diethardt for even a moment.
It seemed he had no other choice.
The mercenaries were taken prisoner by the barbarians, each one led off separately with their arms and legs in chains. When it came to Holger’s turn, he found himself shoved into a shallow cave with no more than a single blanket.
He thought he would die from the cold... but, from time to time, he would be given warm water and heated rocks to keep warm. They really did intend to keep them alive, it seemed.
As darkness fell, he could hear the sobs of a young man from another cave nearby.
✧ ✧ ✧
Three days later, the lonesome Holger was escorted to see Diethardt.
His arms and legs were bound and, naturally, his sword was still confiscated. Granted, it was a miracle he was even still alive.
Beside Diethardt was a man wearing a Belgarian military uniform, and next to him stood a girl with crimson eyes. She wore a hooded robe and her mouth was covered so Holger couldn’t make out who she was, but the fact she was hiding her identity no doubt meant she was someone with status.
Holger held back the urge to spit.
Goddammit... So the Belgarian empire is involved.
They were surrounded by barbarians armed with spears.
The man in uniform, whose face was rather weak for a soldier, directed him to a wooden chair.
“Please sit.”
«Hmph... I know how this goes. Comply or be killed. Yes, I’ll sit wherever you want me to.»
And so Holger sat across from the imperial soldier, a wooden table between them.
The man began speaking in stilted Germanian with an irksome Belgarian accent.
«I do not wish to kill you.»
«You expect me to trust the empire?»
«The choice is yours to make...»
«Tsk.»
Holger waited for what he had to say. When he’d been taken prisoner, Diethardt had told him he’d have to answer questions.
The man nodded. «My name is Regis,» he said.
«Holger.»
«Then, Mr. Holger, could you please look at this drawing?»
A map of some man-made corridors was laid out over the wooden table. Some sort of mine? For a second, Holger thought he would be made a slave to work in a mine, but quickly realized it was something else entirely.
«This is... Fort Volks!?»
«If you recognize it, it must not have changed too much. That’s good.»
«Bastard. How did you come about such a—»
«Oh!? You recognize the value of this document?» Regis beamed with delight.
Holger rose from his chair. «What are you going to use this map for!?»
«I had my share of troubles, you see. It was a real hassle to get the mayor of Theonveil to show me a book from his personal collection... Apart from this beauty, he had books and notes that were said to have been lost during the war. The previous mayor must have been quite a bibliomaniac. His book on northern medicinal herbs was especially wonderful; not only does it have practical utility, it has irreplaceable historic value and—»
“Regis? Regis, where are you going with this?”
The robed girl behind him tapped him on the shoulder. To address a soldier so lightly, she presumably had some degree of status. She was probably an aristocrat.
The man called Regis sat back down.
«Pardon me.»
«So you made off with the map... And what are you going to do with it?»
«Why, I’m going to take the fortress, of course.»
He nonchalantly spouted such unbelievable words.
«That’s idiotic!»
«Correct. We have to do something idiotic... which is why I need information from you. This map is from forty years ago. The fortress has been remodeled and improved since then, yes? Where are the guard stations? The powder magazine? Where does the commander stay?»
«...Even if you knew, it’d be useless if you can’t reach the fortress itself.»
«Correct. So it doesn’t matter if you tell us, does it?»
«You’re going to interrogate the others if I don’t speak up, eh?»
«No.»
«Huh?»
«I am going to ask all of you regardless. I need to compare answers, you see. But I cannot release those who lie. You will only be released for your honesty... Though I’m sure you won’t be able to return to the fortress, so we will afford you travel expenses and return your horse and sword.»
Holger groaned. When he spelled it out, it all sounded so self-evident, but quite a bit of thought had clearly gone into this plan. The order to capture them all must have come from this man.
«Will you really release us?»
«I can’t prove it, so you’ll have to believe me... But I will make a promise. I will release you in two months.»
Holger glared at him. Regis stared back with a fixed expression. Diethardt and the robed girl behind him seemed to be awaiting his response as well.
It was clear that the surrounding barbarians were growing more tense. Would he be killed the instant he refused? He didn’t feel like putting that to the test.
«...Fine. I’ll speak... But help the others out, too. They’re all a good-spirited bunch.»
«...Understood. We will compare your answers to what we hear from the others, and if they match up, you’ll all be saved.»
«Honest?»
«Swear to God.»
Regis put his hands together and touched them to his chest.
Religion had spread through the territories of Belgaria and Germania before either nation had been founded, meaning that, while they were bitter rivals in war, they shared much when it came to beliefs; both lands worshiped the same one true God.
Holger lowered his finger onto the map.
«This is the front gate. There’s a guard station right behind it.»
«...All right.» Regis produced a pen and made a note.
No matter what I tell him, there’s no way to get through the endless bombardment of cannon fire... What is this man thinking?
✧ ✧ ✧
Regis spent the week commuting back and forth between Fort Sierck and the barbarian forest. He took Altina along with him on the first day as she wanted to know what he was doing, but having her visit a barbarian settlement with no guards would normally be completely out of the question.
Should Everard find out, Regis felt he might fall prey to a wild fauchard, so he made his rounds on his own from the second day onward. Though, as Regis couldn’t ride a horse, he had needed Eric to drive the carriage.
By the time every prisoner had been questioned, he had composed a relatively trustworthy overview of Fort Volks.
Right as the sun descended beyond the horizon, Regis returned to his own room. He placed the completed documents on the table and crumbled onto the bed.
The faint red glow of the sun faded, leaving the room in complete darkness.
“How exhausting...”
And just like that, he sank into a deep, deep slumber.
A violent knock shook his door.
“Oi, Regis!”
“Err, Sir Jerome?”
The door swung open just as he raised his body from the bed. Something similar had happened before, but... How was he supposed to react had he been in the middle of changing or something?
Jerome was a rare sight to behold. For once he was properly wearing his full uniform; he hadn’t even loosened it at the neck as he usually would.
“What’s the meaning of this!?” the margrave bellowed.
“Of what...?”
Regis rubbed his eyes. A blinding light streamed in through the window.
“Wasn’t it just nighttime, or am I—”
“Snap outta this daze, or else I’ll wring your neck, trash!”
“Oh, yes. My apologies.”
He had apparently fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber. Judging by how bright it was, it was already time for breakfast.
He turned his gaze to an item in Jerome’s hand that had been thrust toward his face. An invoice. It listed the goods Regis had bought from a merchant. Goods of a considerable cost and quantity.
“...Fort Volks isn’t particularly far, but there are still many things we need for proper siege,” Regis noted as he eyed the paper.
“Are thirty cannons an absolute necessity!?”
“Didn’t I tell you I was buying them?”
“I heard you were buying cannons, but not this many! Are you planning to take on Fort Volks by making a fortress of your own!?”
“Oh, that’s an interesting idea... But the ones I bought were mobile, medium-sized cannons. Fort Sierck only has eight of them, so—”
“That’s already enough!”
“I ran a few numbers, and taking breakdowns and such into consideration, we’ll need at least this many.”
“Where did you get the money for this!?”
“Eh? Well, I... sent the bill to your house...”
“So it’s my money!?”
“Yes, but it was originally the imperial army’s money. You’ve just been cheating the books. And, if you don’t use it here, you might never get a chance to use it again.”
“Tsk.”
Jerome made a face that appeared to scream “I get it, but I don’t like it.”
Regis got out of bed, attempting to flatten the creases in the uniform he had accidentally worn to sleep, and got his appearance just barely in order.
“The fact that the invoice is here means the goods have been delivered?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry... I’ve made the general do the job of a chamberlain...”
“My thoughts exactly. I wouldn’t have had to come all the way here if you’d just woken up at a reasonable time.”
“You could have asked a soldier to...”
Regis trailed off as Jerome met him with a terrible glare. The tactician gave a small shrug before he spoke again.
“...Well, I suppose you shouldn’t really talk about the finances in front of the troops.”
“So you do get it. This is your fault for sleeping in. Not even nobles are this bad.”
“Q-Quite right... My body just feels a little heavy—”
“You lack discipline.”
“Erk.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Jerome, Altina, and the other soldiers trained zealously from the break of dawn.
Am I just that unfit? Regis mused as he placed a foot... somewhere that wasn’t in front of him.
“Huh?”
He had intended to head toward the door, and yet now he could see nothing but quickly approaching panels of wood.
I’m going to hit the floor!
But just before he made impact, his body was yanked up by a strong force.
“What the hell are you doing!?”
It took him a moment to notice it, but Jerome had wrapped an arm around him. He had come dangerously close to falling over.
“...Ah... Thanks... Hac!”
“Hey, what’s up with you!?”
“Well, I tripped and—”
“Dunce. Your body is burning up, goddammit!”
“Eh?”
Jerome supported Regis’s back and touched a hand to his forehead. His fingers were rough and calloused.
“You have a fever.”
“Oh...”
Now that he mentioned it, he felt as though he was floating—or rather, that his feet didn’t reach the ground—and his head was somewhere up in the clouds. It seemed this wasn’t because he had only just woken up.
A look of worry crossed Jerome’s closely drawn face. Regis didn’t think he was the sort to worry about his subordinates’ health, but... perhaps this was the reason he had garnered such popularity.
“Tsk... Bloody weakling! It just had to be at such a hectic time!”
“...Sorry.”
“Sleep. Now.”
“Right.”
As they spoke, the faces of two girls popped in through the doorway that had been left wide open. Altina made a dubious face as she saw Regis swept up in Jerome’s arms.
“What’s going on?”
“...Were you kissing?” Clarisse offered quietly.
“Don’t screw with me! Why would I ever kiss this piece of garbage, huh!?” Jerome’s face was red—not from embarrassment, of course, but rage. He dropped Regis, leaving him to unsteadily teeter to the bed.
Altina raced over. “What’s wrong!? You’re not looking too good,” she exclaimed.
“Yes... I have a fever...”
“Eh!?”
She touched her pale hand to his forehead. It was pleasantly cool and comforting. And ever so soft. Regis’s pulse quickened as he remembered the time he had held this hand before.
“It’s true. You’re hot. Your face is red, too. Are you all right!?”
“...I might be done for.”
“Don’t just give up! Is there anything you need?”
“I’m sorry... A cup of water...”
“All right, I’ll have it here in a jiffy. Anything else? Are you hungry?”
“Thanks... Bread or something...”
“Is that everything?”
“What about...”
“I’m not buying you a book.”
Regis closed his half-open mouth at her words, which warranted him a rather fed up glare from Altina.
“Prepare some food and water,” Jerome ordered Clarisse. “I’ll call the doctor.”
Her eyes opened wide in shock.
“Mn? What’s wrong?” he asked.
“...I’m just surprised. You’re being very caring.”
“What!? Enough nonsense. This is no different from maintaining a chipped sword. Regis is trash, but he’s trash that still has some use. That use is all I care about.”
“...Is that so?”
Clarisse dropped into a bow, her face as expressionless as ever, and made for the dining hall. While she was cheerful and quick to joke with Regis and Altina, when it came to others, she was unsociable to a mysterious extent. This was the first time Regis had even seen her converse with Jerome.
Jerome looked over Regis with a scowl, an unmistakable reluctance in his eyes.
“Get better in a day. Or die.”
“...I’ll do my best.”
Altina pulled the blanket over him.
“Are you cold? Should I bring more?”
“Thanks, but I’m fine...”
“Hey. Is there anything else you want me to do?”
“Let’s see... Right. Altina?”
“What’s up?” She eagerly moved in close.
“I’m counting on you to pay the merchants. The fee is ready in the safe, just hand it over. Have Mr. Everard look over the goods.”
“Oh... Sure.”
“And...”
“Yeah!? What is it!?”
“...I don’t want this cold spreading, so take care not to enter this room anymore.”
“Hmnn...”
Altina nodded, her lips pursed in a visible pout.
✧ ✧ ✧
The lady doctor checked Regis’s pulse and temperature. She was using her bare hands rather than any equipment, so her inspection tickled a bit.
“Hm, yes... Overwork, no doubt.”
“...I see.”
“You need some proper rest today—and tomorrow too, preferably.”
“Ah, but it seems the equipment is here. I’ll need to explain how we’ll use them so the troops can grow accustomed to—”
A stern look knocked him silent.
“Mr. Tactician—or whatever your name is—the complications of overwork start in the stomach. You’ll feel like your food isn’t giving you energy anymore. Then it spreads to your heart. One day you feel just fine, then the next morning your body’s found cold. Do you understand me?”
“Erk...”
“The worst part is, this disease doesn’t usually come to people who’ll rest if you tell them to... so I prepared a certain medicine.”
“That’s a huge help. If you have a medicine that’ll cure me...”
On the doctor’s signal, Everard burst through the door. The bald man’s beard was so large it felt as though the room had shrunk.
“Wa-hahah! Down already? You need more swoosh in your life! Swoosh!”
He pantomimed some practice swings in the room.
The lady doctor winked.
“He’s all yours, Knight Captain.”
“Right! Leave Regis to me!”
“Fufufu...”
Regis goggled, unable to grasp the situation before him.
“Eh? What’s...?”
“Your health is connected to the fate of our goddess!”
The “goddess” he was referring to was, of course, Altina. It was connected to some aboriginal belief system, or so Regis had heard.
“Meaning! Making sure you get some sleep and protecting you from illness is proof of my devotion! My life’s calling!”
“Eeeh!?”
“Now sleep! I’ll even sing you a lullaby.”
“I could do without one!”
The doctor nimbly made her way to the door.
“Far too many soldiers have injuries from consecutive days of harsh training, so I’ve got work to do. Knight Captain, please make sure the tactician sleeps until tomorrow.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”
“Hah...”
Standing tall as though he were an obelisk, Everard filled the doorway, watching him with an intent stare. Regis sighed.
“Um... I get it. I’ll go to sleep... Aren’t you busy with training, Mr. Everard?”
“Rest at ease; I have Eric. It’s in my nature to keep my guard up even after I’ve struck the finishing blow. Moreover, I know the time to be most wary is when your enemy surrenders. That cautiousness is what’s kept me alive to this age.”
“...Is that how it works?”
A warrior great enough to bring not only his horse, but his grandchild to the frontmost line. His words were intriguing in the same way as a tall tale—so much so that Regis was eager to hear the stories this man could tell. Unfortunately, his expression made it quite clear that the next time he opened his mouth, he would be singing.
Regis gave up and closed his eyes.
“Hah... There’s a mountain of things I have to do.”
There weren’t very many days left until the deadline, February 12th.
He grew nothing but more impatient. Round and round his head spun, turning through page upon page of stories he had read once upon a time. Gradually, his weary body shut down, as if sinking into a murky bog.
“Hm...?”
“Oh my.”
When he next opened his eyes, there stood Clarisse in the madder-red light.
“...Is this... a dream?”
“When someone appears in your dream, it’s apparently because that person is thinking about you.”
“...Yes, I’ve read a poem about that before.”
“Which means my feelings have finally reached you. How delightful.”
“...All right, I’m not dreaming. Looks like I’m up.”
“You need to dream more, Mr. Regis. Where are your aspirations?”
Clarisse shrugged. She didn’t laugh, per se, but there was a clear hint of enjoyment in her expression; she only showed her emotions this openly when she was in a terribly good mood.
“Did you come to bring me that water?”
“When I look at you like this, it reminds me of my time in the capital.”
“Really? Did you have a family member you had to look after? Ah, no... I don’t mean to pry.”
“Fufu... Close, but no. I grew flowers.”
“So I’m the equivalent of a flowerbed to you.”
“I hope someday you’ll bloom so you can entertain me even more.”
“If only I could...”
“Oh, you’ll manage, Mr. Regis. I’m sure you will.”
As always, she was placing baseless faith in him. He surveyed the room.
“Is Mr. Everard around?”
“He drops by from time to time... ‘He moves less than a corpse. He’s definitely asleep. Well, that or dead.’ Those were his words.”
“Hahaha...”
“It’s nothing to laugh about. The princess was terribly worried.”
“Was she really?”
“But since you told her not to enter the room, she keeps sending me.”
Now that he thought about it, he had indeed said that when his head was hazy from the fever.
“She actually listened to me? That’s a surprise.”
“What are you talking about, Mr. Regis? The princess has always done precisely what you’ve said.”
“I suppose so...”
Both her desire to become empress and her duel with Jerome has been thanks to his own careless words. Of course, he was no more than a trigger, setting into motion the goals that had already been decided in her heart.
Simply knowing she was counting on him made him regret putting his health in such a state.
“How are you feeling?”
“...Quite a bit better.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.”
“Err, why?”
“I had a monopoly on your sleeping face.”
“W-Wha—!? What are—!?”
“Fufufu... But it’s more fun speaking to you when you’re awake. I’ll bring you some food later on. Until then, please rest a while longer.”
“You’re right. Given our situation, I have to prioritize recovery.”
“Right.”
He accepted the water from Clarisse and downed the entire glass. As it touched his throat, the liquid immediately disappeared, as if sucked away into dry desert sands. He could feel his body demanding more. His throat was overcome with a prickling soreness, perhaps due to his dry cough.
Clarisse made off with the unlit candle from the table; it was the only source of light in the room.
“Make sure you take it easy until morning.”
“Oh dear... You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Fufu... Of course I trust you. I trust you’ll start reading the moment you feel even the slightest bit better.”
“Mnn.”
He couldn’t deny it. Had the moon been out that night, perhaps he would have read even without a candle.
Partially silhouetted against the madder-red sunset, Clarisse looked at him sadly.
“...Mr. Regis... Please don’t die.”
“Yeah... I’ll try not to...”
✧ ✧ ✧
And so came the fated day. A grand total of three thousand soldiers lined the plaza of Fort Sierck. Two thousand would participate in the expedition, while the others would remain to defend the fort.
With the largest force among the barbarians—Bargenheim—on their side, presumably only the Germanian Federation would dare launch an attack on them. There was therefore no reason to leave so many soldiers on defense, but...
Regis had his doubts about Second Prince Latrielle’s sincerity. If simply weakening their war potential was his objective, their fort should be safe. However, if he wanted Altina’s complete fall from grace, or to have her killed, there was a chance he had leaked the day of their departure to the enemy.
An opposing force could crash down on Fort Sierck during their absence, and with their base demolished, the regiment would collapse. There was also the equally likely chance that the expeditionary force could be pincered from both sides. The remaining one thousand were also reserve forces should the main army fall into such a predicament.
According to the records, two thousand was the lowest number ever mobilized to take Fort Volks. The over-thirty cannons loaded in their wagons might have counted for something had the fourth capture attempt not used around the same number.
The plaza overflowed with the pungent smell of horses, the clatter of armor, and the heated enthusiasm of a few thousand troops. Everard and Eric came over to Regis, who had been looking over their ranks from a corner.
They were both in full plate armor, equipped with a polearm and longsword, respectively. When the two stood side by side, there was even less of a resemblance between them.
“The day’s finally come!” Everard boomed.
“Thank you for all of your efforts, Regis,” said Eric.
“...Likewise.” Regis bowed his head. “...That’s right. It’s finally time.”
“Are you feeling any better now?” Eric asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You look as tired as ever.”
“Hahaha...”
Everard beat his chest. “Just leave the fort to me! I’ll be awaiting the good news!”
Regis had assigned Everard, Jerome’s trusted retainer, to lead the defense effort. Without a strong, unifying leader, perhaps the troops would arbitrarily surrender if the enemy did attack. For that reason, the commander he chose was an even more important decision than the number of soldiers he left behind.
He had intended to leave Eric behind as well, but the young man had joined the expedition of his own volition, insistent on being Regis’s guard. Altina’s left arm hadn’t healed yet, so Regis was thankful to have a reliable knight in the main camp.
The two returned to their positions. It was Jerome who came up next.
“Hey, Regis.”
“Did something happen?”
“There’s one thing I thought I should ask,” he murmured, before discreetly looking both ways. They were quite some distance from the troops, so nobody else was nearby.
“I do hope it’s something I can answer...”
“What do you call the princess?”
“Me? Well, I call her... ‘Princess,’ of course.”
“Then what’s this whole ‘Altina’ thing supposed to mean?”
“...!?”
Regis froze. When had he overheard him?
Jerome squinted at him.
“So I didn’t mishear. Are you actually some kinda high noble? I always thought you were too knowledgeable for a commoner.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You could go back to my great-grandfather and all you’d find is peasants. In fact, I’m still paying off my fees from the military academy.”
“You haven’t settled those yet?”
“I could have paid them off had I been able to spend three years in Thénezay’s army...”
“Hmph. Then why is someone like you calling the princess by a pet name?”
“I wonder that myself.”
“You get along with the maid, too.”
“Oh... No, Ms. Clarisse just enjoys teasing me...”
Though she had treated him kindly when he was sick.
“I was talking about Elin.” Jerome’s expression somehow turned even grimmer.
“Eh!?”
“Oh, so you’re like that with the princess’s maid, too? Is wooing women another skill you picked up from your books?”
“Hahaha... Of course not. Ms. Elin is simply devoted to her work on behalf of you, Sir Jerome. I have absolutely no luck with women.”
Jerome looked at him as if he were looking at a complete fool.
“...Well, let’s just forget about the maid... What’s your relationship with the princess?”
“We’re but a commander and her tactician. She’s a fickle one, as you know, so I’m sure she just permitted me to use the nickname on a whim.”
“I should hope so.”
Regis could feel a sudden anxiety bubbling up within him.
“Err, Sir Jerome... Are you asking because... The princess... Do you have feel—?”
“I’m asking because, while you may be her strategist, a scandal with a commoner would impact troop morale. Don’t cause me problems with your trifling nonsense, trash.”
“I-I know. Right...”
Any unsavory rumors would become unforeseen obstacles on her already treacherous path. He needed to interact with her more cautiously.
It was at that very moment that the lady in question stepped out before the lines of soldiers. Her left side was covered by a mantle, as it had been for a while now, and she was wearing armor over her dress in preparation for their expedition.
Altina climbed onto the podium. The soldiers stood at attention, awaiting her words.
She raised her right hand.
“How are you all feeling today!?”
“UUOOOOOOOOH!!”
As expected, her loud voice was answered with an even louder roar from the troops—an uprush so great one might think the ground was shaking beneath their feet.
Jerome made a bitter face.
“‘How are you feeling?’ What kind of an opener is that? What is this, a picnic?” He swore under his breath, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t reach the troops.
Regis shrugged.
“That’s Altina for you... What do you usually yell then?”
“Let’s see... ‘Make sure your wills have been written. Either we kill the enemy, or we die trying!’ ...That sort of thing.”
“...What a pleasant way to address the troops.”
Altina threw her voice again.
“Soon we’ll be attacking Fort Volks! I’m sure you’ve all heard why it’s come to this!”
The soldiers went quiet, allowing her to continue.
“If we refuse to take the fortress, we’ll be marked as traitors! But, the way I see it, that’s a ridiculous reason to go to battle!”
“Hey...” Jerome whispered. “What’s she going on about? Is this your doing?”
“My proposal was that she should say something along the lines of: ‘We’re attacking Fort Volks to bring peace to the border. Our plan is sound, but I need you to believe in me and lend me your power...’”
“...What a boring way to address the troops.”
“It’s on the safe side.”
Altina continued:
“I don’t want to fight for that reason, nor do I want to fight for myself. I want to fight for all of you! Those of you with families would do well to picture their faces! Or the faces of lovers! Of friends! And look to the man who stands beside you! He is, and shall forever be, your comrade in arms!”
The soldiers looked to their sides. To their comrades. To a great many soldiers, those around them were fellow warriors who had joined them in battles of life and death.
“We will fight for one another! Our victory will be for those who are precious to us! Never forget that!”
From beneath her mantle, Altina pulled out a large cloth; a cloth that was a warm shade of green. A shield had been drawn in the center, albeit rather shoddily.
Regis had told her once before that green was the color of the people.
“I want to protect our people! I’ll never forget that, no matter what I face! I hope you’ll all do the same!”
The plaza was suddenly astir.
“Is she an idiot?” spat Jerome. “You can only truly fight for yourself. Isn’t that a given!?”
“...I’m on board with her. Though, I never thought she’d say this here.”
“You mean she didn’t consult you?”
“Altina asks for my advice when she’s feeling conflicted... But when she has conviction in her heart, she’ll act no matter who opposes her. That’s the sort of person she is.”
“Tsk... Wipe that damn smirk off your face!”
“Eh? There was a smirk on my face...? Well, I’ll be...”
Regis narrowed his eyes as he watched Altina on the podium.
“A shield to protect the people—this is my flag! The flag I fight under! I want each of you to lend me your strength!” Her voice resounded through the plaza as she shouted as loud as she could.
The soldiers once again quieted down, and soon the square was enveloped in silence.
The air was thick with apprehension; the longer one spent in the army, the more they hesitated upon hearing those words. In the empire, wars were started for the convenience of lords, and soldiers merely joined for the wages.
Those payments would often go toward supporting their families... but few considered this with more than a passing thought. No feudal lord was ever interested in why his men fought. That was normal; such motivations were seen as a personal matter. That was why it was unthinkable that the commander would come out before an expedition and ask her troops to fight for the people.
The troops appeared completely lost.
Then, a young soldier thrust an enthusiastic fist to the heavens.
“Vive Marie Quatre!”
Some distance from him, another man raised his sword.
“To be the shield of the people!”
“For our families!”
They were voices expressing their support for her speech. A chorus of distinct cries rose from every direction: voices of ardor and endorsement.
The eyes in the audience that had been darkened by bloodlust mere moments ago were beginning to shine with a different glow—the glimmer of their will to fight for another. They had lovers, family and friends back home. Comrades beside them. The faces of precious people to remember.
Their feelings toward those around them and those they lived apart from swelled in their chests. There were even soldiers who shed tears.
Everard and Eric screamed out their approval from among the ranks.
Jerome stayed silent, carefully watching the soldiers’ cheers.
And Regis found himself once again in awe of Altina’s resolute determination and noble ideals.
Imperial Year 851, February 12th—
Three hundred cavalry, six hundred artillery, and eleven hundred infantry. A total of two thousand troops of the Beilschmidt border regiment departed from Fort Sierck.