Chapter 2: Lady Regis

As Regis was busy complaining about his leather armor and dagger being too heavy, Jessica came to him with a proposition: “In that case...I can offer you something lighter.”

“Oh? Do you have commoner clothes?”

“Yes. One can never be too cautious—after all, our lives are forfeit should the imperial army find you,” she replied with a devilish grin.

The civilian clothes she brought out were definitely lighter than leather armor and far more inconspicuous—neither too lowbrow nor too high-class. The craftsmanship was remarkable too; in these, Regis would look right at home walking the streets of Verseilles, and the chances of any soldiers recognizing him would be extremely low.

Even so, Regis made no effort to hide his distaste. “In a sense, this is perfect...but there seems to be one major thing that you’re overlooking.”

“And what might that be? I was certain that I got the right size.” Jessica answered in her usual level tone, but she was clearly concealing her amusement.

Regis pointed at the clothing. “This is a dress!”

“Aha ha ha ha!” Franziska relentlessly burst into laughter. Jessica seemed to be nearing her breaking point too—her voice trembled as she offered a perfectly sound opinion.

“Pfft... But if you wear this, you can move about completely undetected... Aha...”

“I’m a man...”

“And the last thing they will expect is for you to be cross-dressing.”

“Please, be serious here.”

“Oh, Sir Aurick... Do you truly value dignity over your ideals?”

“Erk... Is that really the problem here?!”

“I see no others.”

Regis folded his arms in thought. “No, but... Hmm... You only ever see cross-dressing from drunkards and in comedy shows...”

“Which is precisely why this is such a good idea. Worry not—your face is rather adequate, so a little makeup should do the job. You also have very slender limbs.”

“That doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“You are risking your life for your ideals, are you not?”

“U-Urgh... Fine...” Regis conceded, raising the white flag. The very moment he did, however, he was approached by Fanrine, who had been silently listening up until that point. There was a concerning sparkle in her eyes.

“Regis! You simply must leave the makeup to me!”

“Huh? Aren’t you going to be disillusioned, seeing a man like me dressed as a woman...?”

“Not at all! In fact, I’ve thought that you’d look wonderful in a dress ever since we first met!”

“Glad to hear it...”

“Makeup skills are part of the repertoire of any noblewoman worth her salt, and I’ve been learning from specialists ever since I can remember. I’ll make you into a lady so beautiful that she turns the head of any gentleman!”

“No, no, no!” Regis cried. “Please, at least let me go unnoticed!” Much to his dismay, however, it seemed that his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Franziska began spreading out her tool kit. “Well, cross-dressing and whatnot... In short, it’s a disguise. Remember how we dressed as maids to slip into the imperial army?”

“Oh, now that you mention it—you did a splendid job. I hadn’t suspected you in the slightest.”

“Right?! Eh heh!”

“I noticed your strong Germanian accent, but we’ve contested land so many times in the past that I thought it only natural. I’m not sure the same logic would hold water in an island nation like High Britannia, though...”

The girls’ position as maids had certainly contributed toward Regis’s lack of suspicion. Servant jobs were most commonly taken by those swept in from foreign lands rather than pureblooded Belgarians—so much so that hardly anyone even stopped to think about the inflections of a maid.

Franziska looked at him doubtfully. “I-Is my accent that noticeable?” she asked. “This sounds pretty normal, right?”

“Hurry up,” Jessica interrupted, urging them onward. “We are not here to sightsee.”

“Yes, let’s start at once!” Fanrine declared. She seemed unusually motivated, and as she carried out her work, Franziska would weigh in on this and that. It wasn’t long before Jessica joined the fray, and the next thing Regis knew...he had become their plaything.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis walked down the festive streets of the capital, where celebratory decorations were strung up all around. They had won a war against a neighboring country, liberated Grebeauvoir, and captured the enemy’s queen. Latrielle’s coronation would soon be upon them, and the people of the Empire looked forward to his rule—to the introduction of a young, strong, and wise emperor—with great anticipation.

Scattered about were stalls, decorative flowers, and minstrels playing their instruments. Many had come to see the ceremony, so business was booming. The whole city was even more lively than usual.

As Regis walked these streets, he looked down at himself and sighed.

“I need to do this. I get that, but...this is a bit...”

“You look lovely, Regi— Regina.” Fanrine corrected herself with a smile. “You look very cute.”

There was no point in him using a disguise if everyone continued using his real name, so he was now going by “Regina.” Their cover story was that he, Fanrine, Jessica, and Franziska were all wandering the capital as friends. He understood that the disguise made it safer, but...

“It really gets me down when you say I look good in this,” Regis said, slumping forward. Franziska gave him a hefty slap on the back in response.

“It just goes to show how skilled we are! You’re pretty cute, but not as cute as me!”

“Ow... In any case, I’m grateful that we can walk the streets safely, if nothing else.”

“We can only hope it does not become a habit,” Jessica noted, looking as nonchalant as usual.

“Please, give me a break.”

It was certainly lighter than his leather armor, but his legs kept getting caught on the skirt, and he was struggling to ignore how breezy it was down below. The amount of skin exposed around his neck was also rather unsettling to him.

“So, where are we going?” Jessica asked.

“I know someone who’s quite well-informed. We’ll start from there.”

“You have an intelligence network so far away from your base of operations? Nicely done.”

“I really don’t mean to disappoint, but I’m nothing special; I just happen to know some incredible people.”

“I see... Then I will procure our supplies.”

They were leading seven hundred people to Fort Volks, and while there were a few towns situated along the way, they were better off procuring as much food and as many tents as possible. Horses and carriages were also desirable, assuming they could get them for a reasonable price. Renard Pendu was a legion of elites, but only Jessica excelled in negotiation.

Franziska’s face clouded over. “You sure you don’t need me with you?” she asked.

“I have guards,” Jessica replied. “That should be enough. I do not intend to attempt any reckless trades while in the base of our pursuers.”

“Take care, Sis.”

“You are going to be more at risk than I am...”

“Yeah, but I’ll make sure Au— Regina doesn’t outmaneuver me. The instant he tries to run away, I’ll shoot him down.”

What a precarious conversation... Regis mused. I’m also starting to think this fake name was a pointless addition.

It seemed that Jessica felt much the same. “Take care not to carelessly reveal a particular someone’s identity,” she said.

“O-Of course! I’m too smart to make a mistake like that!” Franziska declared, confidently sticking out her chest.

“You are much too loud...” Jessica said, and with that remark, she headed for the street lined with trading firms. Three mercenaries went along after her, maintaining a good distance.

✧ ✧ ✧

After seeing off Jessica, Regis pointed down the main road. “All right, then. On to Mrs. Carol’s bookstore—”

“Regina!” Fanrine suddenly took him by the hand.

“Huh?”

She glanced to the side, a stiff expression on her face. Regis followed her gaze to see that two imperial soldiers were approaching them.

Franziska reached her hand into the bag where she kept her crossbow, looking as carefree as could be even as her finger gripped the trigger. She was surely accustomed to these situations. Regis had seen his fair share of plays, and even he was impressed by her acting.

With a sociable smile on her face, Franziska greeted the soldiers. “What’s up, boys? Did you need something from us?”

“Oh, not you... I want a better look at...” The soldier who answered turned his attention to Regis.

I’m not cut out to be an actor—that was what Regis believed from the depths of his heart. He had broken into a heavy sweat, his breath kept catching in his throat, and his eyes were wandering all over the place.

“Ah... Err...”

Fanrine stepped out in front. “Pardon me, gentlemen. Have we done anything to rub you the wrong way? My friend here can be a little unusual.”

“Hm... Can you look up for me?” the soldier asked, still focused on Regis.

“Umm... W-Well, you see... She’s not very accustomed to dealing with men.”

The soldiers broke into warm smiles. “Ah, just as I thought! That was the feeling I got from the moment we locked eyes. You rarely find ladies so pure these days.”

“We’re from the capital garrison,” the other man explained. “We’re standing soldiers.”

What...? Regis failed to grasp what that was supposed to mean.

“She’s no good with things like this!” Franziska interjected.

“Even better! C’mon, let’s talk a bit.”

The soldiers pushed Franziska out of the way and closed in on Regis. Fanrine attempted to intervene next, but she, too, was brushed aside. Had two lone soldiers approached him on the battlefield, Regis wouldn’t have even needed a strategy to drive them off...but he had never anticipated being approached right in the middle of town, and so he didn’t have a plan to deal with the situation.

Why am I getting hit on?! If they stare at my face up close, I might get exposed! And if that happens, I’ll practically die of embarrassment! In fact, given my current situation, I’ll die whether I’m embarrassed or not!

Had Regis thought calmly, he might have been able to put together a countermeasure from the books that he’d read...but he was in a complete panic.

“Eep...”

The soldiers seemed to grow even more excited at that. “H-Hey, what’s your name? Where are you from? To make a face like that when all we’re doing is talking... You must be incredibly innocent. Almost like a newly bought sword that’s never tasted blood,” one said.

“Not quite,” said the other. “I’d say she’s more like a newborn rabbit.”

Wait, what’s going on here? Are they perhaps attempting to woo me with poetic language? There were quite a few men of culture among the Empire’s soldiers, but as far as Regis was concerned, these two were rather lacking. A sword and a rabbit...?

“I see... A poem extolling an innocent young girl...” Regis said, the words inadvertently spilling from his mouth. “Then what of that passage from Laure’s Traveling Spirit? ‘Your crimson lips glisten like the rays that thaw the snow, for now, my heart has seen Spring.’ I believe it was something along those lines.”

“Urk!”

The soldiers retreated a step, while Fanrine placed her fingertips to her mouth to hide her smile. “Oh dear...” she said. “This girl reads books whenever she has any free time. Do you enjoy talking about poetry? Then what about plays?”

The two men grimaced; their proud attitude had suddenly turned rough. “What, a smart aleck, are you?!” one cried.

“Just go already,” the other said with a tut.

They shooed away the girls as one would do to try to get rid of a stray dog. This was an era when it was generally desirable for a woman to wait upon a man; those who exhibited such intelligence were generally kept at arm’s length.

Once they were a considerable distance away from the soldiers, Regis let out a deep sigh. “Okay. I’m safe...”

Fanrine giggled; then she teasingly stuck out her tongue at Regis. “You know, Regina, that was actually a little refreshing.”

“Right, right!” Franziska agreed with a nod. “Did you hear that groan after they were acting so stuck-up? Talk about pathetic! They were weak and stupid, so why were they going around looking like they owned the place? It seriously ticks me off.”

“My thoughts exactly. Thinking they’re always above us just because they’re men. They need to get with the times.”

For once, it seemed that Fanrine and Franziska agreed on something.

“Don’tcha agree, Regina?!”

“Isn’t that right, Regina?”

Of course, Regis was one of those “weak and stupid” men himself...

“Hmm... Yes, that may be right. I knew a family where the eldest sister became a maid, and she was far stronger than her brother who became a soldier.”

Surely Fanrine and Franziska understood his situation, but perhaps owing to his clothes, they were speaking as though he were also a girl.

All of a sudden, Franziska pointed at something. “Wait, what’s that? Doh-nuts? Sweets?!”

“Doughnuts,” Fanrine noted. “Sweetened and fried dough—kind of similar to a cake.”

“Wow! Let’s get some!”

“Come to think of it, we haven’t had sweets in quite some time. How about it, Regina?”

“Me? Well... That should be all right. We haven’t had lunch, and— Whoa?!”

Franziska began her march toward the doughnut shop before Regis could even finish his sentence, all while maintaining a firm grip on his hand.

“Just look at them, Regina! Hey, which doughnut should we go with?! They’ve got three types!”

“Can’t we just get one of each...?”

“I have some money saved for such occasions,” Fanrine announced as she produced a gold coin from some unknown location. Franziska’s eyes lit up as she cheerfully placed their order:

“One of each for each of us, then!”

What?!

“So, nine doughnuts in total,” the clerk said with a smile.

Isn’t that a bit much? Regis thought, but he had heard that girls could eat any number of sweets. Now that I think about it, Altina never forgot to eat a scone after every meal. Is this to make my disguise more convincing?

Franziska bit into her first round treat. “Wow! This is delicious!”

Fanrine nodded in agreement, smiling from ear to ear. “Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve had something this sweet.”

Regis took a bite himself, silently acknowledging that women really did have it rough.

✧ ✧ ✧

They soon arrived at Carol’s bookstore. It was a large shop, the sign for which was green and emblazoned with white text, and there was a great display in the window containing books on ceremonies and historic emperors. Among them were more books on Latrielle than Regis had anticipated, though most were very recent publications.

Fanrine appeared calm, but Franziska was looking around awkwardly.

“Hey...” Regis called out to the woman skimming through a ledger at the counter. Her black hair was styled in a bob cut, and she wore an indigo-blue apron over her clothes. She was Carol de Talleyrand, the owner of the establishment.

Carol quickly looked up from her ledger. “Yes? What can I do for you, madam?” she fastidiously replied.

“Umm... It’s me...”

“Oh?” She tilted her head ever so slightly.

She usually greets me with a smile... Regis thought. He could sense that something was off, and then he remembered what he was wearing. How do I explain this? The disguise worked too well—not even a good friend of mine can recognize me! I doubt she would even consider the possibility of a man who never returned from the war suddenly reappearing in women’s clothing.

Regis thought over his next move. There were other customers in the shop, so openly revealing his true identity wasn’t an option.

“U-Um... Mrs. Carol. It’s me...”

“Pardon?” Carol asked, looking quite genuinely perplexed. “My apologies, madam; I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I guess not. Oh, of course!” It hadn’t been in anticipation of these particular circumstances, but Regis remembered that he and Carol had decided on a simple code for when letters and words were exchanged. “Mrs. Carol... I’ve been hearing about a certain book, and I was wondering if you knew the title. It’s about a young tailor who takes the throne after being found to be the bastard of the previous king. He takes an incredible beauty of noble blood to be his wife.”

“Eeh?!” Her eyes opened wide. “D-Don’t tell me... Is it about how outrageous of a woman his queen is...?”

“Indeed. She even calls the king disgusting straight to his face.”

“And truth be told, the queen hides a certain secret, correct?”

“C’est vrai.”

It seemed that this exchange had been enough for Carol to deduce Regina’s real identity. She stared hard at his face.

“R-Really? How could this be? It’s astounding...”

“I’m ashamed to admit it...” Regis mumbled. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

After staring at Regis for another moment, in a complete daze, Carol snapped back to her senses. “Please, follow me. I’ll show you the book you’re looking for,” she said, leading him along the lines of shelves and farther into the store.

Carol had brought them to the bookstore’s café space, where they settled into some seats in the corner. The bookstore had originally been a café, and it was arranged so that customers could enjoy reading their purchased books over a cup of coffee.

Carol exchanged a look with the staff, and they were immediately brought enough coffee for four. It had been a long time since Regis last came to the store; he could feel a warmth spread through his chest as he took in the feelings of nostalgia.

After confirming that nobody else was around, Carol leaned in. “You really are...R-Regis, right?”

“I should preface this by asking that you please don’t make any assumptions,” Regis said. “There are certain circumstances behind my attire—circumstances deeper than the sea and greater than the tallest mountain. There are reasons so convincing that anyone would have accepted them.”

“I guess that roundabout way of speaking leaves little room for doubt.”

“I’m not so sure about your argument, but I’m glad you believe me.”

“You’re still alive...” she breathed, tears welling up in her eyes. Regis hadn’t expected her to be so moved, and the sudden wave of emotion caused him to panic.

“Aha... Well, it took some luck...”

“You’re safe—that’s what matters. So what should I call you now?” she asked with a wry smile as she attempted to dry her eyes.

Regis scratched his head on instinct...and then slapped a hand on his dome just in time to stop his wig from falling off. “I’m, uh...Regina...” he answered.

“Very well, Regina.” Carol seemed to be enjoying this a little too much. She turned to Fanrine. “You were here with Regis last time. From House Tiraso Laverde.”

“Yes, I am Fanrine Veronica de Tiraso Laverde. I was tasked with observing Regis as an official of the Ministry of Military Affairs...but I am currently a fugitive alongside him.” She stood up momentarily and offered a very elegant bow. The two girls had met just once over a month ago, but it seemed that they remembered one another.

“And this is Ms. Franziska,” Regis said, introducing their last member. “I’m assuming this is your first time meeting her.”

The moment her name was mentioned, Franziska’s expression became a stern glare. “Hey, who’s this woman to you?” she asked.

“Someone to whom I am greatly indebted. A collaborator, and someone who understands me best.”

“Huh. So I don’t need to hide my identity?”

“That’s correct.”

Carol extended her introduction first. “I am the owner of this store, Carol de Talleyrand.”

“That so? I’m Franziska of Renard Pendu. I’m watching and guarding this gal on my sis’s orders. Nice to meet you.”

“My! From that prestigious...?!” Carol trailed off. She was gazing at Franziska in total surprise.

“It seems you know about Renard Pendu too,” Regis observed, nodding to himself. “Just as I would expect from you, Mrs. Carol.”

Carol chuckled. “It’s nothing but surprises with you, Regina. A week after I hear you’d died in battle, you return dressed like this with the daughter of a duke and a member of a renowned mercenary brigade.”

Regis leaned closer. “I died in battle?”

“Yes, that’s what I was told. It spread through the capital as a rumor, and I confirmed it with a soldier I’m acquainted with. There can be no doubt about that.”

This means Latrielle did try to assassinate me after all... Was he fooled by the fake corpse? No, surely not. Is he acting this way to make me drop my guard...?

“Do you know my cause of death?” Regis asked.

“No, I don’t...but I heard the remains were sent to your family.”

Was the replacement corpse sent to my sister then? This is going to get a bit complicated...

“Has a report been sent to the Fourth Army?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I would assume so.”

“Yes, I see...” Regis crossed his arms. He didn’t want to worry Altina—he really didn’t—but it was much too risky for him to make contact with the Fourth Army now. There was a high chance that Latrielle would intercept the message somewhere along the line.

“Regina. I understand how you feel, but you mustn’t do anything hasty,” Fanrine warned.

“Yeah, I know.”

He was more worried that Altina might jump the gun.

“I have other information,” Carol said. “Would you like to hear it, Regina?”

“Yes, that’s actually what I’m here for.”

“This is going to take a while, so let me offer you some snacks first. We’ve started selling these recently...”

At those words, a waiter brought to the table a plate of sugar-dusted doughnuts.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis sipped from his second cup of coffee.

“Phew...”

It was quite the delicacy. The doughnuts were rather sweet, and there was a fluffy texture hidden beneath the fragrant burnt sugar and crispy fried dough. That secret ingredient spreading across his tongue was most likely honey.

For a brief moment, Regis indulged in the thought of reading into the wee morning hours, drinking delicious coffee and snacking on doughnuts as he sat among the shelves overflowing with books. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to kick back and relax.

“Mrs. Carol, do you have the information I asked for?”

“Yes, right over here.”

Carol warily handed over a book. There weren’t any customers at any of the nearby tables, but there was no telling who might have been watching. Regis began thumbing through until eventually he came across a sheet of paper sandwiched between two pages like a bookmark. It was a report on the matter he had asked her to investigate—the emperor’s death.

“I see... As I thought.”

“There isn’t any definitive evidence, but considering the circumstances surrounding the death... There was the doctor who examined the bodies, and the fact that the sixth consort’s doctors were denied access... Plus, a number of the maids and attendants involved have gone missing...”

“What?!” Fanrine cried out, her eyes wide open. “How did you come across this information?!”

Carol immediately clapped a hand over the woman’s mouth. “There’s someone in the imperial court who likes to gossip,” she explained.

“This is a bit much, even for that...”

Regis quickly read through the report and then stuffed it into his skirt pocket. He had initially been surprised to learn that there was a pocket hidden among the frills, and his first thought had been that it existed for some kind of covert activity...but it was apparently just used to carry handkerchiefs and the like.

“The Ministry of Military Affairs and the army top brass are all under Latrielle’s control, so information seldom leaks from there,” Regis said. “However, information also spreads through the court. This was only possible thanks to Mrs. Carol’s connections, of course.”

Carol let out a pleased chuckle. “I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths for anyone but one of my regulars, Regis. Ah, no—Regina, was it?”

“You have my utmost gratitude. Truly. Your actions may have changed this country’s history.”

“It’s really that serious, I take it.”

“To be blunt—yes. He’s taken quite an overbearing stance, after all.”

“Given all the mysterious disappearances, I was unfortunately unable to find anyone who could testify.”

“We have circumstantial evidence, but that’s not strong enough on its own,” Regis mused aloud—not that the testimony of a few maids would have been enough to overturn Latrielle’s position.

“Our best bet would be to get our information straight from one of the second prince’s close associates...” Carol noted.

“Latrielle’s officers wouldn’t confess even at the risk of death—that’s how loyal they are. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That complicates things.”

“Even so...the prince is acting too impulsively. It’s hard to say he was thorough by any means. The way I see it, there are far too many people who know the truth. At this rate, the seams may spread from those who aren’t even associated with him.”

“Precisely. Then what are your thoughts on this man?” Carol asked as she handed over a second book. Once again, Regis flipped through and then scanned the small sheet of paper stuck inside.

“Beclard, the grand chamberlain? He was a trusted retainer to His Majesty. He’s been regarded as the living will and testament of the late emperor and has already recognized Latrielle’s enthronement.”

“Word has it that he entered the emperor’s chambers around his time of death.”

“Then he should know everything. The very reason Prince Latrielle is managing to climb the steps to the throne without any public suspicion is because he has the support of such an authority figure.”

The official ceremony would take place in three days.

Fanrine looked at Regis quizzically. “Marquis Beclard? None of the rumors surrounding him are pleasant. I’ve seen him at a few parties, but...is he any different from Latrielle’s associates? Is it possible to make him speak the truth?”

Franziska lightly tapped the table with a clenched fist. “Well, what are these rumors?! If you’re going to speak, speak clearly. Or is this the sorta thing that you can’t really talk about?”

“Hmm... It’s quite vulgar to speak about someone behind their back, but, well... In this instance, it would be pointless for me not to spell it out. Ahem. Beclard is a great lover of money and valuables. Our house runs a large-scale enterprise in the south, and in order to receive permission for our enterprises, we were tasked with not only the legal procedures, but also a few sizable bribes. Of course, he wasn’t the only one who demanded money. There were a few others in positions of power...”

“Hah! Curse this rotten empire!” Franziska spat.

It really was terrible, but Regis knew that the system had been operating that way for a very long time. He was putting so much work in specifically because he wanted to change that.

“I apologize for not being able to say any more on the matter,” Fanrine concluded. “It was my sister Elenore who handled the negotiation.”

“No, thank you. That’s a good reference point,” Regis said. His praise made Fanrine’s eyes crease in a smile.

“So what now, Regina?” Franziska asked. “Do we try to bribe that greedy old man with more money than the second prince gave him?”

“That would certainly be a peaceful way to resolve this, but I’m as poor as a commoner can be, the Fourth Army is severely lacking in resources due to the war, and Princess Argentina’s mother is a commoner. Latrielle, in contrast, serves as the marshal general of the Belgarian armed forces and has countless noble backers. It’s safe to say that he has several times more funding than we do.”

“Now listen here—your tactics might be impressive, but wars are ultimately decided with money. Do you really stand a chance?”

“The Fourth Army’s grown stronger, but not enough to beat the First Army. The ideal situation is for us to win without fighting.”

“Is that an ideal situation or a delusional one?”

Regis chuckled and gave a bitter smile. “Whatever it is, I think the situation will change considerably if we manage to secure testimony from the grand chamberlain.”

“That’s for certain,” Fanrine said with a nod. “The problem is how we’ll go about doing that.”

“Kidnap him?” Franziska suggested, not even attempting to hide her cocky grin. Carol shook her head in response; it was much too dangerous of a proposal.

“Beclard understands his own position. I’ve heard that he rarely leaves his estate these days, and there are so many soldiers stationed there that some compare it to a fortress. He won’t even meet with newspaper reporters. Abduction seems quite impossible.”

Franziska crudely clicked her tongue in response, eliciting a grimace from Fanrine.

“Did you get that information from a reporter?” Regis asked.

“Yes, from a newspaper aimed at laborers that’s quite critical of the present regime,” Carol replied. “It’s called The Weekly Quarry.”

“Is that what they’re printing these days?”

“From what I’ve read. It’s been that way for half a year now.”

“Hm... Well, the number of anti-establishment articles was on the rise the last time I was in the capital...”

Regis naturally read the papers—he was drawn to anything that contained the written word. The Weekly Quarry was run by a cynical staff and often used rather extreme terms to criticize the establishment. It also included the scandals and private conversations of nobles. One noble in particular had flown into a rage about their articles and furiously barged into the publishing house to intimidate them. The very next day, the papers printed their exchange in full, and the noble ended up fleeing the capital.

“The Quarry’s sales are on the rise,” Carol continued. “More people are talking about liberalism these days.”

“They’re more activists than they are journalists.”

“And they wanted to meet you, Regis. You’re a common-born war hero.”

“Please, not—” Regis instinctively went to refuse, but then it occurred to him—perhaps this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“That journalist may be able to introduce you to someone with strong connections to the imperial court,” Carol noted.

“Who might that be?”

“Err, have you ever heard of one Morgane Bourgine?”

“Hmm? I think I’ve heard the name before...”

“At the plaza, three years ago...”

“Oh, the woman who proclaimed that this nation is rotten to the core? Does she have a connection to the court? That really shouldn’t be the case; in fact, she should still be on the run from the law.”

“Why is that?” Fanrine asked.

Criticizing the emperor was considered blasphemy but criticizing society on the whole was permitted as an act of political activity. That was the official stance, at least.

“Hah!” Franziska scoffed. “Who cares what the law says? You’re screwed if you go against those in power.”

“You can’t mean...”

“Unfortunately, Franziska’s right—even if there aren’t any legal problems, you won’t get off lightly after publicly criticizing the system of nobility. Morgane wasn’t complaining at the pub; she was addressing the plaza in front of the palace,” Regis explained. It had been akin to drawing a bow at the noble class.

Fanrine hung her head, her expression clouded. “I am no more than an ignorant little girl. As an official, I’ve seen my share of the Empire’s dark side, but...I can’t overlook what I’ve seen and heard these past few days. To think things are this terrible...”

“We’re fighting to change that,” Regis said.

Fanrine nodded in agreement, but Franziska merely shrugged; she had never considered the idea of actively trying to better a nation.

“I’m personally acquainted with Morgane,” Carol said, getting the conversation back on track. “She often came to my shop back when she was still a teacher.”

“Does that mean I’ve seen her before?” Regis asked.

“I think so.”

There weren’t many female customers, so perhaps he’d recognize her if they met. Thinking back on it now, Regis realized that he’d hardly ever paid any mind to the bookstore’s other patrons.

“So you’re saying Madame Morgane has connections to someone knowledgeable about the palace?”

“That’s what a reporter from The Quarry told me. I don’t know her current location, but he said that he could contact her for me.”

“I see...”

“He also said that you’d find this a very appealing proposal, Regis.”

“Then he’s quite sharp,” Regis observed. He couldn’t deny that he needed to get in touch with someone who knew the palace well. The cooperation of a newspaper would also increase the number of options available to him.

Franziska stood. “Well, no point hanging around. The early bird gets the worm!”

“That’s right. Mrs. Carol, could you tell me the reporter’s name?”

✧ ✧ ✧

Carol was going to stay behind—she had work to do, and as a central actor in Regis’s information warfare, she was better off not acting conspicuously. The last thing he wanted was for Latrielle to have his eye on her.

Once Carol had written up a letter of introduction, Regis went to meet the reporter with Fanrine and Franziska in tow. The directions they had been given led them to a building facing the main road. This was supposed to be the base of The Weekly Quarry, although they couldn’t say for sure—it was a bit too large to be a private house, but there was no identifying sign out front.

Fanrine tilted her head. “Is this really the place?”

“The address is correct,” Regis replied. “Let’s give it a go.”

He knocked on the wooden door and waited. There was no response for a moment, but then it cracked open, and a man with large ears and dark, sun-tanned skin peeked out. He wore a leather cabbie cap, which was pulled down low, and regarded Regis with a fiery-eyed glare. His dry lips parted.

“I don’t remember hiring a maid. And if you’re not one, I don’t want what you’re selling. I also pay my tithe to the church every month. In fact, I just haven’t got any money, full stop. Try someone else.”

Noticing that the man was about to close the door, Regis hurriedly spoke up. “Do you know where I could find a reporter named Claude? A certain someone referred him to me.”

“Hmph... If you’ve got any complaints, please put them down in a letter. If you want to support us, please purchase our papers.”

“Wait. Please, wait. If you’re interested in Regis Aurick, I have some information I can offer.”

Upon hearing those words, the man finally paused his attempts to shut the door. “We get enough rumors around here,” he said skeptically.

“Then what if you could speak with the man himself?”

“So, what, you’ll bring him here for a fee?”

“I was hoping to trade one referral for another. There’s someone I want to meet...”

“Who sent you?”

“I came here from a bookstore. Does that answer your question?”

“A bookstore? Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Um, then maybe this will clarify things... A certain someone wanted me to pass on a message: ‘Thank you for the roses.’ It was her birthday, apparently. I didn’t know myself.”

“Pfft!” The man evidently couldn’t believe his ears. “Carol told you to come here?!”

“Y-Yes.”

The man poked his head out and then glanced all around, making sure that the three of them were the only ones there. He then beckoned them inside with a hasty, “Come right in!”

Regis, Fanrine, and Franziska stepped into a room with around eight tables, each one crudely stacked with books and unbound manuscripts. There were five people at work, restlessly moving their hands, and a mixture of unpleasant odors—mostly ink, tobacco, and sweat—lingered in the air.

The man led them across a crude screen partition to an area where two two-seater sofas were facing one another. He delivered a hard kick to one of the seats. “Go home if you’re going to sleep!” he barked.

“A-Ah...” A man in rags rolled off of the sofa with a groan, falling flat onto his hands and knees. He glanced up to look at Regis, and then his eyes shot open. “Wowee! Y-You’re a cutie! Who are you?!”

“Eeh?!” Regis immediately winced; he could feel a faint sense of danger in the wind.

“Is that really how you speak to a client?!” The man with the cap kicked the apparent deviant in the rear. “Get some coffee or something!”

“Ow...” Rubbing his behind, the sleepy man hobbled farther into the room, looking as though he might fall over at any moment.

Fanrine had gone pale; such a rough atmosphere was evidently taxing for a noblewoman such as herself. Regis’s own room was quite similar when he was busy, so he wasn’t too surprised—not that anyone was ever kicked in the bottom there. Franziska the mercenary didn’t seem at all perturbed either.

The capped man sat on one sofa and then motioned to the other. “Have a seat,” he said.

“Of course. Pardon me.”

Regis likewise took a seat. Franziska dropped into the space beside him, looking as though it were only natural that she should, but Fanrine remained frozen on her feet. It was in her nature to treat commoners as equals, but that wasn’t the problem here—just moments ago, a man who looked as though he hadn’t bathed in days had been using the sofa as a bed. Regis didn’t comment on her hesitation; there wasn’t enough room for three to begin with.

“So, where’s this Claude fellow?” Franziska asked, scanning the office.

“You’re talking to him.”

Regis nodded. “I see. That explains things.”

“Sorry.” Claude held out his left hand to show the slash running down his palm. “There was a time I was stabbed the very instant I introduced myself.”

“That’s quite something...”

“So you’re here on Carol’s recommendation?”

“Yes. I’ve been entrusted with this.”

Regis reached into the pochette hung over his shoulder and produced the letter. The bag was so tiny that even the small piece of stationery had needed to be folded four times to fit inside; it would hardly serve as more than a gunpowder pouch on the battlefield.

Claude took the letter. “So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Regis Aurick. Although I was recently granted the more exaggerated name ‘Regis d’Aurick.’”

“Huh?” Claude looked doubtful, and for good reason—the supposed man before him was still dressed as a woman. As Regis mulled over where to start, Fanrine chimed in.

“There are reasons preventing Regis from walking around the capital as himself. That’s why he has come dressed like this. Oh, and don’t worry about us. We’re just here to accompany him.”

Claude’s eyes widened as he read through the letter. “You’re actually the real deal...?!”

“Mrs. Carol may like joking around, but she does not lie.”

“You’ve got a point...” He looked at Regis again and again. “And you’re seriously a man?”

“Yes.” Regis offered a curt response; it was needlessly embarrassing being inspected so closely.

“Our disguise skills are pretty darn good, right?!” Franziska boasted with her chest proudly puffed out.

Claude nodded. “Yeah, incredible. This really is something.”

The makeup had mostly been Fanrine, but before the matter could be discussed any further, the man in rags returned from the back. He was now wearing a proper jacket, and he had slicked back his bedhead.

“Here you go, mademoiselle,” the man said with a chuckle as he placed the single cup he had brought out in front of Regis.

“Why only one drink?!” Claude shouted. “Ah, just get lost, would you?!”

“Th-That’s no way to talk to your editor-in-chief!”

“Editor-in-chief?!” Regis repeated. That position would make him even more important than a reporter; he was supposed to be the top dog here.

Claude sighed. “If you have any competency as an editor, then go check my article already. Get to work.”

“Good grief, Claude...what a slavedriver you are. Especially when you’re just going to be sitting around, chatting up a cute girl...”

“He’s a guy!”

“What?! Even better!”

“I’ve got a boot with your name on it!”

The man claiming to be the lead editor grumbled as he took a seat at the largest table. It seemed that he really did hold such an important position.

Claude shrugged. “He’s odd, but he knows a good article when he sees one.”

“Now that you mention it, your readership has been on the rise.”

“Ever since we hired him half a year ago.”

“I see. So, anyway...”

The ragged man humming a tune to himself as he spread out some paper and started to read was the spitting image of a homeless, unemployed person—clear evidence that one couldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Franziska made off with Regis’s coffee and took a long sip. “Ah, this gal goes by Regina now,” she said. “It’s super dangerous to call her by the other name outside.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors,” Claude replied. “You died in battle, eh? Must have been rough.”

“Oh? You don’t seem all that surprised about my being alive,” Regis said. “Not to mention you trusted me immediately...”

“Word came in that the corpses didn’t have heads. The moment I heard that, I knew you hadn’t kicked the bucket. Regis d’Aurick is a genius tactician; there was no doubt in my mind that he’d have taken some precautions. Headless corpses are as basic as body doubles go.”

“I’m not a genius. I just happened to get lucky.”

“That said, it seems the notice of your death was sent to the Fourth Army...and I doubt your princess is going to accept it. Worst-case scenario, we might have a civil war on our hands.”

“I really hope she doesn’t act too hastily.”

“Well, when all’s said and done, I never imagined you’d come visit me as such a lovely lass.”

“L-Lovely?! Um, for what it’s worth...I’m a twenty-year-old man...”

Sure, Regis knew he was a tad baby-faced, but the term “lass” was saved for little girls who hadn’t yet come of age.

“I know, don’t worry. Besides, I only care about what’s inside—and I happen to like intellectual women who laugh a lot and are good to talk to. I’m not interested in men, but I am incredibly interested in you, Regis d’Aurick.”

“Hah... Well, ask me whatever you want. I’ll answer anything that wouldn’t make the princess yell at me.”

“Is an introduction all you want in exchange?”

“If possible, I’d also like a little assistance. I want Grand Chamberlain Beclard to testify.”

“About what?”

“The emperor’s death.”

Claude shook his head. “Not happening. I want it too, believe me, but I can’t even meet with the guy.”

“Not even if you ask your lead in the palace?”

“Ah... Well, you may be able to meet with Beclard through him. Thing is, right now, Beclard has the backing of the soon-to-be emperor; he’s not going to testify against him.”

“It’s a little old now, but there’s a series called The Great General Gordon—quite the masterpiece, if I do say so myself. It went on for twenty volumes before publication came to a halt. The story was never concluded, mind you; I’ve been waiting for the continuation for a long while now.”

“I’ve at least spotted the title in the bookstore. I’m not too interested in fiction, though.”

“It’s based on historical events that really did happen close to two hundred years ago.”

“Hm? All right, so what about it...?”

“There was a plan in that book that perfectly applies to our current situation.”

Claude’s brow twitched. “You mean to say...I’m going to be taking part in one of the Regis d’Aurick’s famous schemes?”

“The scheme comes from the book. I just happen to have read about it.”

“Let’s hear the details then.”

“First, will you cooperate with us?”

Claude fell silent...and it was this hesitation that made Regis certain he was trustworthy. Had the man been nothing but talk, he would have immediately agreed; after all, there was nothing stopping him from listening to all the details and then dropping out for any which reason. Through this pause, Regis could deduce that he was most likely not a man to go back on his word—he had to mull over the matter even before he decided to hear it out.

“All right, we’ll cooperate!” This swift response came not from Claude but from the editor-in-chief, who was all of a sudden resting one hand against the partitioning screen. “Heh heh... Our papers’ll be selling like hotcakes if we get this testimony! And on top of that, we’ll get to see one of the Wizard’s plans up close! An opportunity like this doesn’t come ’round every day.”

“There’s no such thing as a free meal,” Claude said. “If we do this, we might end up picking a fight with Prince Latrielle. Right?”

“Well...that is a possibility,” Regis admitted.

The editor-in-chief gave a broad smile. “A little late for that! The Weekly Quarry is already despised by the establishment!”

“Don’t go mixing up your wasps and your flies,” Claude snapped. “They’re just pushing us down right now. If we get Beclard to spill the beans, though, they might get out the hammer.”

The editor-in-chief chuckled at this remark. “You scared, Claudy-boy?”

“Of course not! I’m hopping on board, even if that means having to quit my job here. I just can’t decide whether I should drag the company in or not.”

Regis placed a contemplative hand on his chin. “Ah, yes... I’m sure you all have families to worry about.”

“Nah, none of the men here have parents, children, or siblings. No wives or girlfriends either, I should add.”

“O-Oh. I see.”

The lead editor took a seat beside Claude and then started leaning toward Regis. “So, Mr. Regis... Oh, excuse me! You go by ‘Regina’ now!”

I don’t mind you calling me by my actual name here... Regis thought, though he made no effort to correct the man. Fanrine seemed to be cowering before the editor’s intensity, while the complicated nature of the conversation seemed to have made Franziska give up on even trying to follow along.

“I’m the editor-in-chief of The Quarry,” the ragged man said, finally introducing himself. “Ottoman’s the name. A fake name, mind you.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Regina, we raise the flag of rebellion against the nobles who take life’s riches for their own—against the current system, where one’s standing in life is decided the moment they’re born!”

“You’re liberalists, then.”

“We’re not that extreme—we don’t want to go as far as to topple the administration. However, it’s hard to tolerate a portion of those in power abusing the ignorance and indifference of the populace to monopolize all the wealth.”

“I have to agree with you there.”

“What do you think’s necessary to change the current regime?”

“Based on what you just said, I would assume making the populace more knowledgeable and interested.”

“You’re not wrong. But that’s not enough.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you get it?!”

“Well, again, this is just something I’ve read, but... Why are most civilians ignorant of and uninterested in politics? It’s because they believe that nothing they can do will change things—that the structure of the nation will simply remain in its current state regardless of their knowledge or involvement. To that end, what the people need most right now is hope.”

“Incredible! As expected of a hero!”

“No, no, no. As I just said, I’m only paraphrasing someone else’s work—Professor Boutter’s Thesis on Reform, to be precise.”

“Yes, but Regina—there are countless works published on reform, each purporting to be the best idea imaginable, and that is the one you chose. Yes, how fantastic! I’d expect nothing less from you!”

“Oh, err... Thanks...” Regis replied. It seemed that he would receive incessant praise no matter what he said, so he decided to move the conversation forward. “I’m going to be blunt—can you go along with my plan, knowing full well of the danger? I’m planning to disrupt Prince Latrielle’s coronation, after all. In return, I can offer you a story that will garner quite a bit of interest.”

Claude nodded. “I’m in! Beclard is one of the vile monsters building a nest in our empire. If we can expose him for who he really is, there’s some worth in me risking my life.”

“Hee hee!” Ottoman chuckled. “That’s what The Weekly Quarry is for!”

The other men of the office had taken a break from their duties and were now gathered around the sofa, no doubt hoping that something interesting was going on, but Claude dismissed them all at once. “I’ll tell you later, so get back to work!” he yelled.

And so, Regis began unveiling his plan.