Chapter 7: The Plot to Assassinate Regis d’Aurick

“Vive l’Empire!” cheered the soldiers. “Vive le général d’armée!”

Daybreak was approaching by the time Regis returned to the main camp. The bonfires blazing all around created a celebratory atmosphere, burning so brightly that they seemed to outshine the stars in the sky.

Latrielle had already undergone treatment and was now seated in a chair toward the rear end of the camp. “Finally back, Regis?” he asked.

“Commander! Should you really be out of bed?!”

“I’ve left enough to you already. Plus, the soldiers are singing songs of victory; it would be quite deplorable for me to lie down on such a festive occasion.”

“Ah... But I thought your wounds were quite serious.”

“They’ve already closed up. They still hurt, mind you, but the doctor said the pain is a sign that nothing’s gone rotten.”

Germain, who was standing beside the prince, let out a sigh. “He also said you should’ve endured enough pain to make any normal person scream their lungs out. Good grief... You accepted a one-on-one duel while surrounded by capable soldiers...” he said, slumping his shoulders.

Regis felt strongly sympathetic to Germain’s plight. This was an everyday occurrence when he was serving under Altina.

Latrielle folded his arms. “Fret not, I will make a complete recovery. Not even a scar will remain. Though it seems the process will take a couple months.”

Germain heaved a second sigh. “At the very least, don’t overexert yourself.”

“I acknowledge your concern.”

Regis gave a wry smile, recalling a past exchange with Altina. It was then that Latrielle suddenly changed the topic.

“Now then, Regis... I have not seen the situation with my own eyes, but Germain has been keeping me informed.”

“It seems our plan went off without a hitch,” Regis noted.

“Our officers are in awe—not that anyone still doubted your abilities after you took command.”

Regis bashfully scratched his head. “Thank you, sir.”

“What’s more, I hear you saved the High Britannian queen when she tried to take her own life.”

Margaret had done a great deal of damage during her suicide attempt; by the time Regis reached her, she was losing blood fast, and the pressure from her abdomen had nearly pushed out her organs. Had Regis pushed too hard on the wound, he would have risked causing a rupture or even necrosis. Stopping the bleeding in such a delicate area had required a great deal of medical knowledge.

“I...just happened to pick up a few things from a book or two.”

“Hm.” Latrielle smiled. “She will make fine diplomacy fodder.”

“Depending on what our damages add up to, High Britannia may not be able to cover the costs, in which case they’ll need to offer up their queen’s life instead.”

“And when that happens, I’ll make sure everyone knows they chose money over their own ruler as she’s sent to the chopping block.”

Regis was under no illusion that every death was a pity. “She should receive the appropriate punishment for her actions,” he said with a shrug.

“Indeed. Be it good or bad, every action has a consequence. And on that note, I need to reward you.”

“Pardon?”

“You led the First Army in my stead and magnificently breached the enemy’s forces. Your plan saved captured civilians and garrisoned soldiers alike. You rendered the enemy fortress helpless to the point that they raised the flag of surrender, and then you realized the queen would use that opportunity to flee and contributed greatly to her capture. With so many achievements to speak of, not preparing a suitable reward would see my character called into question.”

“I see...”

As a temporary transfer from the Fourth Army, it was only natural that Regis would need to be given a reward great enough to satisfy all those who knew about his accomplishments. Otherwise, they would slander Latrielle as a man who relied on the strength of others while giving nothing in return.

Regis exhaled as quietly as possible. Honestly, being able to return to Fort Volks is enough for me, he thought, watching as Germain spread a sheet of parchment over the table at the prince’s order.

“First, Regis, you are to be elevated to first-grade admin officer,” Latrielle declared. “A messenger has already been sent to the Ministry of Military Affairs. I made it an official edict this time, so they won’t bother you about paperwork and exams again.”

“Wh-What?!” Regis exclaimed.

“Is that not enough?”

“No, no, no! I just mean, I was about to take the third-grade exam...”

“The alternative is that I make you a major general.”

“I, Regis d’Aurick, do humbly accept my promotion to first-grade administrative officer!” Regis sputtered, his voice cracking in the process. It was rare enough for a commoner to reach first-grade, and one becoming a general was entirely unprecedented. He had never seen mention of a commoner general across all the official records he had read—at most, they existed in fairy tales that walked precariously between legend and pure fiction. The mere thought of what might happen if something like that came to be made his knees tremble.

Latrielle nodded. “Good. Next, I’ve prepared two documents for you to choose between.” Two new sheets were placed on the table. “To preface this, as you proposed, I am pulling back our line to the fortress atop the mountain.”

“A wise decision.”

“Should you choose this paper here,” the prince said, gesturing to one of the sheets on the table, “I will appoint you as the commander of that fortress. I haven’t yet gotten it past the Ministry of Nobility, but once that matter is settled, you will rise from a chevalier to a baron. Of course, that means you will also be granted the surrounding land.”

“Fwah?!” Regis inadvertently cried out.

“An understandable response. I didn’t think you would be satisfied with land out in the middle of nowhere.”

“No, hold on! I don’t even feel like a real chevalier yet! I’m only just starting to remember to add the ‘d’’ to my name! A baron?! Isn’t that full-fledged nobility?!”

“Given your achievements, it would be a detriment to our great nation for your family not to share in your noble title.”

“No, I... I don’t have any family...” Regis replied. With his sister having married into another house, she was no longer considered a member of his household.

“I’m sure you’ll find a partner in no time at all once you’ve made your debut in high society. But before then, allow me to explain the other option. I assure you, it is far more appealing than a frontier fort and a minor position among the nobility.”

“Wh-What might that be...?”

“I want to formally welcome you as a strategist in the First Army. In fact, I can personally guarantee you a position as chief of staff.”

“I respectfully decline.”

What followed was a long silence. Regis had replied so immediately that Latrielle was at a complete loss for words.

“M-My apologies,” Regis added. “It’s just, I was actually somewhat expecting that proposition—or rather, I was ready for it. I thought you might extend such an invitation if my plan succeeded, but...I must keep my promise to Alt— to the princess.”

“Have you thought this through? No, I suppose that goes without saying. I still don’t understand, though. I know I shouldn’t be the one to say it, but...I’m going to become emperor.”

“I’m aware.”

“That surprise attack may ultimately cost me my sight, but I can still see for the time being. I also have Germain by my side. I intend to defeat our neighbors and make the Belgarian Empire a nation that will prosper for a thousand years.”

“...I’m aware,” Regis repeated.

“I am confident that, during my reign, I will successfully lay the foundations for my new system of governance.”

“Perhaps you will.”

Latrielle paused. “Regis. In your eyes, am I an unrealistic dreamer? Am I no different from that High Britannian queen?”

“No, I would not go as far as to say that. I do not think your plan is necessarily impossible; in fact, I think the world is already headed in that direction.”

The prince cocked his head to one side. “Then why would you distance me and choose Argentina? Do you fear earning the ire of the Fourth Army?”

Regis shook his head in response. “The princess is simply the one most likely to realize my ideals.”

“Do you mean your sugar-sweet dream of making war a thing of the past...?” Latrielle asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I do.”

“What nonsense. And you insinuate my ideals are unrealistic... Say a madman takes the throne in one of the many nations that surround us. What would you do if they attacked us?”

“I would fight back. We wouldn’t have any other choice.”

“See, Regis? Your goal is unattainable.”

“No, not quite... I strive for a world where, when an enemy invades, we do not have to fear other countries joining them. I want to create a nation in which we would instead work together to fend off such attacks. That is what the princess has her sights on, and the ideal that I am willing to wager my life upon.”

“You speak of nations helping each other in their time of need...?”

“Yes.”

“Absurd.”

“It seems so, what with the current state of affairs. The process will take time—enough that I presume it won’t come together within my lifetime. But perhaps we can lay the first stone.”

“Do you honestly think anyone will carry that banner of dreams into the next generation?” Latrielle asked. His tone was harsh, but Regis smiled nonetheless.

“Even if no people remain, the books speaking of our work will.”

A heavy silence fell once again, eased only by the victory songs seeping in from outside. The men were hailing Latrielle and the Empire. Some even chanted the name “Regis,” well aware of the great role he had played in their triumph.

Latrielle’s face twisted in anguish. He had smiled through pain intense enough to have made a normal man scream, yet Regis’s decision made him break into a cold sweat. “Is there any room for negotiation?” he asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“If you strive for Argentina’s ideal, you will need to seize my position. Her goal is irreconcilable with my policy of conquering the neighboring nations.”

“I understand that. To be honest, I feel our political struggle with you is going to be more of a challenge than forming peaceful relations with the other nations.”

“I’m already on the cusp of taking the throne, and the moment I do, Argentina will no longer be able to become empress.”

“So it seems...”

“Then your dream is over. Why fixate on it now?”

“Hm... Again, I’m sorry. I do not believe this conversation has anything to do with the Grebeauvoir rescue operation.” Regis took only the paper appointing him a first-grade admin officer before offering a deep bow. “There is much I’ve learned during my time with the First Army, and I am very grateful for your help with my exams.”

Latrielle closed his eyes, allowing a deep sigh to escape him. “I have obtained...so much...but it seems the ones I chase will always turn me away.”

“Huh?”

“No, I’m just talking to myself...”

“Right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Prince Latrielle...”

“Yes. Farewell, Regis. You were a fine tactician,” the prince said. His expression was serene, but Germain beside him watched with colder eyes than Regis had ever seen before.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis started making his way back to his tent, able to hear the voices of soldiers raising another toast. He wondered whether they would continue until morning. When he arrived outside, he spotted a woman with black hair standing beside a nearby bonfire.

“Hello, Ms. Fanrine.”

“Regis!”

Fanrine immediately began racing over. Has something happened to her...? Regis wondered. The next thing he knew, she was right before his eyes, and she showed no signs of stopping there. He was suddenly enveloped in a soft sensation—a warm embrace.

“Wh... Uh... Huh...?!”

“You’re alive!”

“U-Um... I’m covered in blood, so...”

“Blood? Regis, were you injured?!”

“No, I’m just fine. I just got some of the queen’s blood on my sleeves and whatnot.”

“Oh my! So you slew the enemy commander?!”

“No, no. The opposite, actually. Oh, more importantly—what are you doing here at this hour? Do you need something?”

Fanrine stared at Regis with wide eyes before making a lonesome face. “I was waiting and praying that you would return safely,” she said after a short pause.

“Huh...?”

“I mean, I heard that you led a small group of soldiers to chase the fleeing enemy commander.”

“Yes, well... Perhaps.”

She was somewhat correct, but not entirely. For one, it was Latrielle who had taken the lead, with Regis simply being one among the group. It was also more accurate to say the king of the Langobarts was the enemy commander, and since he had surrendered in the flood, Regis had never actually confronted him.

As Regis dwelled on the details, Fanrine squeezed him even tighter. “I was...scared. Incredibly so. Even just the thought that I might lose you was...”

“I was just giving orders from the main camp. I sent men to kill and to die, but I was never in any danger myself.”

“But you were still on the battlefield. There’s no guaranteed safety anywhere, is there?”

“Oh, yes... You have a point.”

“So to finally have you back... To hear your voice again... I’m so happy, I could... Ah!” Fanrine suddenly leapt back, her face bright red. “H-How indecent of me! M-My apologies, Regis!”

Regis shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize. Really.”

“You must be so tired, yet I... I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No, not at all. I’m not offended. In fact, it...it felt rather nice.”

What am I even saying...?

“Ah...” Fanrine grew more sheepish by the second, the red now spreading to her ears. There were lookouts standing a short distance from the tent, and she had spoken so loudly that she had attracted their attention. They looked at her—and at Regis—with great intrigue. Him conversing with the young daughter of a duke was already enough to incite rumors, but she was also unmarried. Then again, perhaps it was better that she hadn’t yet taken a husband; the last thing Regis needed was a made-up scandal making the rounds.

“Yes, well, this was a lovely chat. I’m all right now, so...err...thank you for worrying for me.”

“B-But of course. I’m glad it, uh, felt nice.”

“R-R... Right,” Regis stammered. He could already feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, and so he turned to the tent in a desperate attempt to flee.

“U-Um... Regis?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to sleep now? I, er...don’t imagine you’ve eaten anything. I’ve made some brioche. Though maybe it’s a little late for sweets...”

I see. That must be at least part of the reason why she waited for me.

Regis had indeed intended to go straight to bed. He was sure one of the soldiers would have given him some food had he asked, but it would almost certainly be dried meat, which he wasn’t in the right mind to laboriously chew on. Brioche, however, was a whole other story. It was a luxury for a commoner, and practically a dream to be able to enjoy some on the battlefield.

“I’d love some! Ah, no... It might get a little dangerous around here. I think you should get going.”

“Dangerous? What’s wrong?”

Regis sighed. “This and that happened...with Prince Latrielle.”

“Oh, really?” Fanrine asked, narrowing her eyes. “If you’re not going to sleep right away, perhaps you could spend some time talking to me.” Her tone was as gentle as if she were offering him some tea with his brioche.

Regis hesitated for a moment. Is it really okay for me to drag her into this mess? he wondered. But if something happened to him, she was unlikely to escape unharmed no matter what.

“I don’t see any harm in a conversation.”

“Thank you,” Fanrine said with a smile. “I do have some tea as well, though it’s gone cold.”

“Perfect. Truth be told, I’m incredibly hungry. I just wasn’t in the mood for meat.”

Fanrine giggled, making no attempt to hide her delight. “Seems like everything worked out then.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Inside the tent, Regis sat at his desk chair, allowing Fanrine to sit on the slightly more cushioned bed. From there, he briefly explained the details of the battle, as well as his conversation with Latrielle. Fanrine nodded all the while with a serious look on her face.

“And so, it might get a little...” Regis bit into some brioche. “Wow, this is delicious!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“This must be the best brioche I’ve ever eaten. Did you really make this here, on the battlefield...? That’s incredible.”

“The butter and eggs I used arrived from the capital just this morning. That said, the ingredients shouldn’t be too different from what the pâtissiers around these parts use. I doubt the end product is that much better either.”

“I see. Either way, it’s astounding that you made this with an impromptu stove.”

“If you want, I’ll make it for you every morning.”

“I do like the sound of that...”

“Ah. I...” Fanrine suddenly went silent, her cheeks flushing with color.

Regis munched on his brioche a short while longer before getting the conversation back on track. “So, as I was saying... Perhaps I should have asked for some time to think—at least until we were back in the capital. Judging by how the prince reacted, I’m not sure I’ll even survive the night.”

“But there are plenty of people here, and you, my dear Regis, are the star of the show.”

“On the contrary, I’d say Sir Batteren of the White Hares has the most achievements to his name.”

“But regardless of what he accomplished, based on what you’ve told me, he wasn’t the one who captured the enemy general. It was because of your plan to flood the city that the king of Langobarti surrendered, and it was thanks to your wit that the High Britannian queen was unable to escape.”

“Yes, but...the floodgates succeeded only because of the sappers, and Queen Margaret was captured because our commander came out victorious in a one-on-one duel. Putting aside who takes center stage, though, I do think I’ve done enough that people would notice my sudden disappearance.”

“Correct.”

“Plus, I’m just a loan from the Fourth Army. If anything happens to me, Latrielle’s reputation will plummet to rock bottom.”

“I think so too.”

“So there’s no way he would go to such lengths over someone like me. That’s what I’ve always thought, at least.”

“Now that just sounds like negligence on your part,” Fanrine plainly declared. As well as having the skills of a professional cook, she could also speak on military and political matters. She was a fair bit more capable than the average civil official, enough that one could safely assume the Ministry of Military Affairs hadn’t just taken her on due to her lineage.

Regis nodded. “I’m starting to understand, I think... Considering the prince’s current position, there’s a chance he would even risk being branded a coward to get rid of me. I’m, uh...ashamed of how presumptuous that sounds, now that I’ve said it aloud. Yes, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Is such a thing even possible...?” Regis babbled, his voice growing fainter the longer he spoke on.

“Regis. Get a grip on yourself,” Fanrine chided, her fists tightly clenched. “You’re the one supporting the fourth princess.”

“Th-That’s not necessarily—”

“The way the prince sees it, your wit might be the one thing capable of diminishing his current advantage over her.”

“Hm... Well, I’ve already made my move to diminish his standing, but...”

“And you really think he’s going to let you run free? That’s sickly sweet optimism right there, even sweeter than the brioche.”

Regis took another bite of the incredibly sweet bread. “Slightly tarnishing his own reputation to put a complete stop to his political enemy... It certainly isn’t a bad move.”

“Precisely. So keep your guard up—no, in fact, you need to take some measures of your own.”

“You may be right.” Regis stood up and sighed. “Prince Latrielle’s moving forward much too fast. He’s seeking results in such a limited time frame. Is he anxious about his vision?” He recalled what the prince had told him when revealing the Fusil 851: “I intend to use this gun to conquer all our neighbors within the next two years.”

Fanrine nodded. “That might be it. But no matter how strong his will might be, that is no reason to obediently go along with his plans.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Regis, please make preparations to keep yourself protected.”

“I’ll certainly try, but...this is rather troubling.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Any good plan needs to be prepared in advance. They don’t just suddenly spring to mind the moment I think I’m in danger,” he said. To be blunt, he hadn’t yet thought up a solution to his predicament.

Fanrine slumped forward. “So you honestly never even considered that you might be targeted. I see.”

“What to do...? What to do...?” Regis murmured, thoughtlessly scratching his head. His fatigue was catching up to him; it was like a dense fog had rolled over his mind. This is the same feeling as when it’s late at night and my eyes are slipping off the letters...

Despite his efforts, he was unable to come up with anything concrete.

“Huh...?!” Fanrine abruptly shot to her feet, her expression sterner than before.

Regis cocked his head. “Is something the matter?”

“The soldiers... They’re not laughing anymore.”

“You’re right. Do you think they’ve fallen asleep?” Regis asked. His question was tongue in cheek, of course; not even he could think with such blind optimism. There were footsteps approaching the tent, as well as the clanking of metal armor. “This isn’t good... Ms. Fanrine, please hide under the bed.”

“Even as an order from you, I won’t accept. I very well intend to share the fate of whomever I’ve sworn my future to.”

“Huh? ‘Your future’?”

“As I said, I intend to cook for you every morning.”

“Wait!”

Before Regis could say any more, however, the cloth hanging over the entrance was unceremoniously torn away.

✧ ✧ ✧

As one would expect, the tent wasn’t nearly as sturdy as a normal house; the entrance was yanked away with one clean movement.

Regis put his hands up in the air. “Let’s hope there’s some room for negotiation...” he spoke under his breath. He wouldn’t have given in to any threats had he been alone, even if that meant being cut down, but he wanted to get Fanrine out safely. Contrary to his expectations, however, the ones who entered through the ripped cloth were not imperial soldiers.

«He’s here!»

“Eh? Mercenaries?” Regis wondered aloud. The intruders spoke Germanian, but the armor they wore wasn’t of a country he was familiar with.

«Oi, do we have the right guy?!»

«Yep. Jackpot. Good work. Now go wait over there and start holding the perimeter.»

«Understood. You’ve got three minutes.»

«Won’t even take that long.»

Around six mercenaries had entered the tent, all exuding the fierce aura of tempered veterans. Behind them stood two women.

“Wha—?!” Regis inadvertently cried out. They were no longer wearing their maid uniforms, but the women were clearly Franka and Jestina.

“Wh-What are you trying to pull?!” Fanrine exclaimed, her expression grim. Instead of providing any response, however, Franka simply drew a crossbow.

«Can I kill the woman?»

Regis hurriedly stepped forward to shield Fanrine. “W-Wait!” he stammered. “I remember now. You’re Franziska of Renard Pendu!”

“Correct,” Franziska replied. “Took you long enough.”

“I never noticed. Why were you working as my maid?”

“Don’t ask! It pisses me off so much I might just pull the trigger!”

“Please contain yourself,” spoke the woman standing beside her, evidently prepared to answer instead. She had previously introduced herself as Jestina, but that was surely a fake name as well. “Good evening, Sir Aurick... Allow me to introduce myself once more: I am Jessica Schweinzeberg, Gilbert’s younger sister.”

“I see... So that’s what’s going on...” Regis said, nodding to himself. “You’re the ones who raised the smoke signal to recall your comrades from the High Britannian Army.”

“You catch on quickly.”

“Are you here for me?”

“Correct. But you pieced that together too late. Much too late.”

Franziska took aim with her crossbow. “It’s only gonna sting if you resist. So, anyway... Sis, I can kill the woman, right? She’s always lecturing me.”

“Ngh...” Fanrine’s shoulders trembled.

The drowsiness had since been blown from Regis’s mind. His heart pounded, his skin completely slick with sweat. He desperately searched through the bookshelves in his mind.

But are there any stories about a situation like this...? Ah...

✧ ✧ ✧

Two shadows distorted in the orange glow of a flickering candle. One, belonging to the second prince, was leaning back into a chair.

“Is killing him really the only option...?” Latrielle asked, his voice escaping him like the growl of a dangerous animal.

Germain nodded. “It’s unfortunate, but Regis is simply much too dangerous.”

“To make the Empire eternal, I need strength. To that end, I must obtain his wisdom, no matter what it takes.”

“You mustn’t. That’s like setting a whole forest ablaze because you need a light. Mighty as it may be, an uncontrollable power is not necessarily a shortcut to your goal.”

Latrielle fell silent for a moment. “You may be right.”

“Just look at this plan—Grebeauvoir’s civilians were rescued, we’ve captured both the Langobart king and the High Britannian queen, and the enemy has been driven from imperial territory. These are splendid results. At the same time, however, the base on our front line was completely flooded. We are going to need to wait quite some time before it can be put to use once more.”

“Right...”

“The Empire has also been forced to pull its line back to the mountaintop. This is exactly in line with the fourth princess’s policies.”

“I intended to use him, yet he used me. How is that possible?”

“Even if we don’t rely on his magic-like command, our new guns and cannons are enough for the Belgarian Army to reclaim its glory. More than that, even—the Belgarian Army will soon become a force of unprecedented strength.”

“Indeed. My army isn’t so weak that it needs him to come out on top.”

“More so, we should remove any causes for concern.”

“...You’re right.” Latrielle snatched up the two sheets of paper on the table, tore them to shreds, and then crumpled up the pieces. He gave his next order with all the aggression of a beast baring its fangs. “Kill Regis d’Aurick.”