Prelude: Negotiating with the Vixen

Imperial Year 851, August 23rd—

The westward sun illuminated the plains near Wollalen, twenty lieue south of the imperial capital of Verseilles. A lace parasol danced in the breeze, and the girl who had been holding it looked like she was about to cry.

“Ah...” she gasped.

Elenore placed a hand on the girl’s head. “You don’t have to worry, Renoir,” she said. “Are you hurt?”

The girl shook her head.

Regis had done some digging into House Tiraso Laverde, and he recognized this name as that of the family’s third daughter. So, she isn’t an attendant... he thought to himself.

Elenore’s little sister did not seem to have come simply because she needed to be looked after; rather, it seemed that she was tagging along to learn the family business, even at such a young age. House Tiraso Laverde did manage a booming business in the south, after all.

“Shall I fetch your parasol for you?” Regis asked.

Elenore nodded. “That would be wonderful, Regis.”

“Of course. For now, please, come into the tent. This doesn’t seem like it will be a short conversation.”

She nodded again and followed Regis inside; so, too, did the young girl named Renoir. Regis asked one of the nearby soldiers to track down the parasol.

The tent, which had been prepared in a hurry, contained one square table and six chairs. Regis pulled out two of the chairs for the sisters—an action that came naturally to any decent man raised in the Empire. Belgaria was strongly patriarchal, but men were taught to be courteous to women from a very young age.

Regis, Elenore, and Renoir were the only ones in the tent.

“Now then, might I ask what the situation is?” Regis asked.

“It all started around the time the war against High Britannia settled down. Yes, that would have to be when the previous emperor passed...” Elenore began. She spoke in a manner that was noticeably masculine; it was uncommon for women to have any involvement in business, politics, or military matters, so perhaps that was one concession she had to make.

“Around his death? Hm...” Regis recalled the situation from June. Not even three months had passed since then, but with everything that had happened, it felt as though three years had gone by.

“Prince Latrielle—oh, excuse me, I suppose I should say ‘His Majesty’ now—issued us an order through the Ministry of Military Affairs. He requested that we give him money.”

“He made a levy?” Regis asked. “How much has he asked for?”

“Oh, no. He called it a temporary collection for the war effort. The south didn’t face much damage compared to the west and the central territories, so as far as he was concerned, we should have more to provide.”

“I see.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable response, Regis thought. Such calls for aid were by no means limited to times of war; when there were floods, droughts, or pandemics that impacted only particular imperial territories, other regions would often provide assistance. This was only possible due to the vast area the Empire occupied.

Elenore sighed. “I am personally in favor of sending support to war zones. I wanted to assist as much as I could— But it only makes sense for me to dole out for the war effort if I do not have a war of my own. Yes?”

“Naturally.”

“Right after we received the collection notice, there came the news of Juhaprecia’s passing.”

“Indeed.”

Latrielle had assassinated the sixth consort, Juhaprecia, along with the emperor. That said, based on what Regis had heard from Berard, the former grand chamberlain, there was reason to suspect that Juhaprecia had been the one to instigate things.

“The sixth consort hailed from Estaburg to the east, and that has naturally put a strain on international relations,” Elenore said.

“Belgaria was at war with Estaburg for a while, and it was only through Juhaprecia’s marriage that a ceasefire was reached,” Regis added. “I was informed that hostilities finally broke out the other day.”

A letter had come from the Seventh Army and the Black Knight Brigade on the eastern front. There had apparently been some gains made by the Belgarian forces stationed at a fort on the border, and they had received a thank-you letter from the commander there.

Regis felt rather apologetic about the whole matter. The commander of the distant fortress was the granddaughter of the late Lieutenant General Barguesonne, a man who had succumbed to High Britannian gunfire during the Battle of La Frenge. Regis had witnessed the man’s death from his position as the tactician of the Beilschmidt border regiment.

His blood is on my hands... Regis told himself. If only he had been able to negotiate more successfully before the battle or implement the proper tactics... Then, the outcome would have no doubt been more favorable. Those thoughts ran through his mind even now; he continued to reflect on his shortcomings at every waking moment.

Regis couldn’t help himself. Marquis Thénezay, the first man to ever hire him, had similarly met his end after refusing one of the tactician’s plans. Was there anything he could have done to keep the man alive? Was there any way to lower the number of casualties? Was the battle truly unavoidable from the get-go?

There was not a single battle that Regis did not regret.

“Now then, Regis...” Elenore said. “You must be wondering—how could the start of the war with Estaburg affect our home in the south?”

“I would presume because Estaburg is tied through marriage to the southern Hispanian Empire.”

“You’re well-informed.”

“It’s a common set piece used in stage plays. There can be unnecessary trouble when writers base their plays on Belgarian nobles, so many of them use foreign countries for their dramas.”

“Now that you mention it...I remember applauding a story that went along those lines.”

“Ah, to attend such a performance...”

Regis had read scripts before, but he had never properly attended a play—the standard admissions fee was almost as much as his weekly salary during his days as a fifth-grade administrative officer, far out of reach for a poor commoner. Money was no longer an issue, but with everything that was going on, he highly doubted that he could find the time for such a luxury.

“But yes, the matter with Hispania,” Elenore went on. “They are proclaiming that Juhaprecia must have been murdered.”

“Understandably so.”

“Hispania has not attempted an invasion, but the Etruscan Army has already taken action, presumably with their support.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

High Britannia’s occupation of Grebeauvoir had been such a major event that not much else was discussed around the capital. Around the same time, however, the theocratic Kingdom of Etruria had advanced upon one of the Empire’s southern forts.

I expected the soldiers stationed there to be able to fight them off pretty easily... Regis mused. For such a sturdy fortress on the front lines to have fallen to Etruria came as a considerable shock to him.

“I’m not too versed in military matters, mind you, but a knight dispatched from the central territories was apparently more competent than the Sixth Army’s commander,” Elenore said. “That man was called back to the First Army, so his absence may have led to this failure.”

“I see...”

“I believe it was Baron Zemault, although I may be misremembering the name.”

“Ah!” Regis slapped his knee in realization. The man in question was the young new commander of the First Army’s White Wolf Brigade. He was skilled as both a fighter and a negotiator—so much so that Regis had dearly wished to make him an ally.

“Do you know him, Regis?”

“I’ve met him once, on the battlefield. He’s someone I certainly wouldn’t want to make an enemy of. Now that you mention it, he did say he was summoned from the south.”

“Hm... The Sixth Army was routed, and Sembione fell. It was a fine city that our house conducted much business in.”

Regis was starting to piece the situation together. Latrielle was demanding money from the south to aid a war zone, but the south was a struggling war zone in itself.

“If we explain the circumstances to the Ministry...” Regis muttered. “Ah, but the Ministry no longer exists. The First Army manages such matters directly now. Why not explain the situation to them?”

“We have, of course, but our territory is vast. They determined that the damage around Sembione would not majorly impact us.”

“How much has the damage impacted you? Honestly speaking.”

“As things stand, we’re estimated to lose around ten percent of our net annual profit.”

“So, not a huge amount, but not a small amount either.”

“If only that were all. If we accept their demands this time, we can expect them to come back with even greater ones. That is why I shan’t obey them—at least, not until the enemy has been driven away.”

Regis folded his arms and cocked his head. Elenore’s fears were certainly well-founded. Latrielle intended to expand the nation’s war fronts, and to that end, he would need to gather funds by whatever means necessary—even by force.

Elenore sighed. “For them to press us for money while offering no protection in return makes them no better than bandits. As the rallying force of the southern nobles, I cannot answer these demands under our current circumstances. But no matter how much I want to oppose the matter, our house lacks the soldiers. Worst-case scenario, we may be deemed rebels, and the army will deal with us before Etruria even has the chance.”

“You will need to proceed with caution.”

“Ah.” Renoir suddenly spoke up, having kept silent the entire conversation. There was a ruckus brewing outside the tent.

“What could it be...?” Regis murmured as he rose from his seat. It was a little too soon for the soldier to have retrieved the missing parasol.

“Hyah!”

All of a sudden, the opening folds of the tent were smacked aside with a spirited cry, and in came a crimson-haired young woman, her red eyes narrowed in a sharp glare. Her pale, porcelain limbs were like works of fine art when she stood still, but currently, they were swinging about in an exaggerated manner, her perfectly molded fingers waving at Regis’s nose.

“Regis! Why didn’t you call me?!”

“Princess?! What’s wrong?!” Regis exclaimed. He would usually call the woman by her nickname, “Altina,” but he was deliberately more cordial when others were around to hear.

“Hmph!” She puffed up her cheeks. “No one told me you were meeting with her alone!”

“No, no. Her little sister’s here too.”

Altina’s expression relaxed into a smile the moment she noticed Renoir. She was surprisingly fond of children, although her forceful entry had made the young girl quite fearful.

“My apologies,” Elenore said. “My dear sister is not yet disciplined enough to interact with customers. Unlike Fanrine and me, she is anxious by nature.”

“She doesn’t resemble you at all,” Altina remarked.

“We do not share the same mother. Perhaps that is why our personalities are so different.”

“Right. Anyway...” Altina swiftly moved the conversation along. She had witnessed something similar with her own siblings, who all came from different mothers, so she saw no reason to question Elenore’s logic.

Elenore wearily brushed aside her black hair. “I did not come here today to seduce Regis. If he is considering a new occupation, however, then I am more than willing to welcome him.”

Altina slammed a hand on the table. “Absolutely not!”

“Is that not for Regis to decide? Have you done your best to improve his work conditions, little Ms. Généralissime?”

“Erk...”

“I have my own goals and responsibilities, so I will not be leaving my position,” Regis said, intruding before the conversation could stray in a peculiar direction. “My apologies, Princess... I thought you would be tired from the march, so I tried to handle this on my own.”

“Ah, yeah... Well, I’d usually be perfectly fine with that, but...” Altina mulled over her words. Her unusual wariness came from the lipstick that had been smeared on Regis’s cheek during the celebrations in April. Regis himself no longer remembered this; he had been at death’s door, once, twice, even three times since, and the memories were overwritten by far stronger ones.

“All teasing aside,” Elenore said, “I am here to request aid from our newly appointed généralissime. I will, of course, repay you in kind, but...how about taking a seat for now?”

“Yes, I suppose I should.” Altina settled in a chair beside Regis and took a deep breath. In an instant, her expression turned serious, and she spoke with an earnestness that seemed unthinkable considering how she had acted on her arrival. “Firstly, I am terribly grateful for the massive support I have received from the Gaillarte Garden Party. Thank you.”

Regis’s eyes widened. “It’s almost like you’re a real princess.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, er... Well, you... I mean, I’m surprised you can sound so princess-like, Princess.”

“It’s not like this is the first time I’ve spoken seriously.”

“True, but...”

“I am not ignorant of the movement of money. We have been in numerous engagements since the national day celebrations—the Beilschmidt border regiment became the Fourth Army, and now the généralissime’s council... And throughout all this, it has been thanks to the support of the southern nobles that our soldiers’ wages were never a denier short.”

Elenore nodded. “I’m glad that you understand.”

An increase in troops would usually mean an increase in capital received from the Ministry of Military Affairs. However, the rate at which Altina had gained troops was abnormal—so much so that the Ministry had not been able to keep up. In addition to this, the Fourth Army hired plenty of on-site workers and mercenaries, neither of which were eligible to be funded by the nation. It was because of their funding from the south that they had been able to continue fighting.

“And yet, even with all your support...” Altina lowered her head. “I couldn’t beat Latrielle.”

“Raise your head, Your Highness...” Elenore said. “Latrielle may have taken the throne, but we are still alive. The battle is not over yet.”

“Right. That’s exactly it.”

“We of the Gaillarte Garden Party do not hold what has transpired against you. There was a time when we had no military backing and were exploited as a result. We’re far better off now—and we can thank the Fourth Army for that.”

“Really?”

“Let me put it like this... Now that you have our backing, you wouldn’t stay silent if we were pressured into an unfair transaction, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Forming an alliance with such an influential figure has made business far smoother, and for that, you have my gratitude. The Fourth Army’s exploits have made our investment a highly successful one.”

“Um... ‘Investment’?” Altina’s rigorous studies had taught her a lot about the importance of money but her blank, perplexed expression made it clear that she didn’t quite follow.

I can’t blame her. Investing is something that few people truly understand, Regis thought. “She’s saying that your performance has improved the positions of all those in support of you.”

“Ah, is that so?” Altina asked. “All right. Good.”

Elenore smiled. “My hope is that our mutually beneficial relationship will continue.”

“I heard that a city in the south was taken. Is everything okay?”

“The Sixth and Eighth Armies were forced to retreat at Etruria’s invasion,” Regis interjected, taking over the conversation from there. “Sembione has already fallen, and in their current situation, House Tiraso Laverde will struggle to continue providing their support.”

Altina rose from her chair. “I don’t mean for us! How are the townsfolk?!”

“We’ve sent scouts, but...we don’t yet have any details.”

“Viscount Dorvale of the Sixth Army proposed a retreat when the invasion was still in its early stages, so evacuation was not an issue,” Elenore weighed in. “That said, much livestock and produce was abandoned.”

“I see...” Altina’s face remained tense, but she settled back into her chair. It was then that Regis suddenly realized something.

Sir Eddie belonged to the Sixth Army, didn’t he? He might know Dorvale. Maybe I should ask him later...

Regis lacked information, and the Sixth Army had spent so long in the south without any conspicuous achievements that they were shockingly absent from any military records. The fact that its commander had not been summoned to the coronation of the new emperor spoke volumes to their treatment in the military and in high society.

There were no doubt issues with the Sixth Army, and as the marshal general, Latrielle had surely picked up on them. But for what reason was he sending Altina’s unit? Was it really just to bring a speedy resolution to the conflict, or was there some ulterior motive?

“There’s still a lot more I need to find out...” Regis mumbled to himself.

“My apologies for the interruption, Princess. I’ve finished preparing the tea,” came a voice from outside the tent. It was Clarisse. She spoke not in her usual cheery tone, but in the emotionless intonation she used in the presence of strangers.

“Come in,” Altina replied. “You’ll have a cup, won’t you, Elenore?”

“I would consider it an honor to have tea with a princess,” Elenore responded. “I have no reason to refuse.”

Renoir looked up with sparkling eyes, a sudden contrast to how stiff and scared she had seemed throughout their entire conversation thus far. “A tea party...” she mumbled, her voice so faint that it almost faded into the wind.

✧ ✧ ✧

Umber liquid swirled in Elenore’s teacup. “You’re using very high-quality tea leaves,” she remarked, having made her evaluation from the aroma alone.

“Oh, really?” Altina asked as she nonchalantly took a mouthful of tea. Clarisse must have opted to serve them a different type than usual. Regis followed suit, taking a meek sip himself, only to realize that his palate was not refined enough to evaluate the quality.

Elenore held her cup at eye level and gazed at the steaming liquid inside. “Do you know how much these particular tea leaves cost, Your Highness?” she asked.

“Huh? Um... They’re not cheap, but we need to serve the appropriate tea when we have special guests.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong—I don’t mean to criticize you for your spending. Expensive leaves should absolutely be saved for times like this. What I mean is, the price of tea has risen as of late. In fact, some leaves are now worth their weight in silver. Did you know that?”

Regis nearly did a spit take, while Altina responded with an immediate grimace. “That much?!” she cried.

“Only for the highest quality, of course. But even the lower-grade varieties are climbing in price. The reason lies with Hispania.”

“Hm?” Altina cocked her head quizzically.

“You must be referring to the pirates,” Regis said, speaking in the princess’s stead. “For a long time now, Hispania has been disguising its own naval ships as pirate vessels to attack Belgarian merchant vessels.”

Elenore nodded. “And the pirates are growing especially active. High Britannia’s trade boom raised the value of merchant goods, and now, Belgaria does not have enough vessels to guard its cargo ships.”

“Indeed. Quite a few of them sank, after all.”

Altina struck the table with a tightly clenched fist. “Attacking merchant ships is cowardly!” she exclaimed.

“Perhaps, but such is the norm there,” Elenore replied. “We trade with them, and then on the way home, they ambush us and shake us down for all we’re worth.”

“Well, they’re despicable!”

“Only to foreigners. Rumor has it they are upright, dutiful, and even philanthropic when dealing with their own people. Not that I’ve ever met a Hispaniard... I’ve been too focused on matters within Belgaria.”

“Grr...” Altina pursed her lips.

Regis knew about these rumors as well. “Belgaria should finish its steam engine within the year,” he said. “All other aspects of our vessels should remain largely the same as our old sailing ships, so it shouldn’t take us long to upgrade our navy. The sea routes should quiet down eventually.”

“How long will that take?” Elenore asked.

“Let’s see... Three years to build the ships, but we won’t see a decrease in attacks right away. It may be a few years after that before we start to feel the effects.”

“Right, right... In that case, it might be a good idea for us to start selling our tea leaves before the market price drops again.”

“As business-focused as ever, I see.”

“Indeed. But what we do with our tea leaves is by no means the matter at hand; we face more pressing issues in the present. Dangers at sea have already limited our trade routes, and if we allow Etruria to impede us on land as well, we won’t have many options left.”

“We’ll do something about the land routes,” Regis assured the noblewoman. “That’s what we came here for, after all.”

“I’m counting on it. Things are becoming so dire that some nobles from the Gaillarte Garden Party have considered pledging their allegiance to Hispania.”

“That would be troublesome...” Regis muttered. Such an act would be considered an act of rebellion, and the offending houses wouldn’t be suppressed so easily once they had foreign aid. “Please tell everyone in the Gaillarte Garden Party that all enemies invading the south will soon be driven back by Généralissime Argentina. They won’t be kept waiting long.”

“Very well. I shall pass on the message. I’m sure they will trust your words, Regis.”

“I would much rather they trusted the princess...”

“One and the same,” Elenore said with a giggle. She then relaxed into her hair and exhaled deeply, signifying that she had spoken everything on her mind.

Regis placed a finger to his lower lip. “May I ask something? About Latrielle’s demands—why not settle the matter with goods instead of money?”

“I can’t imagine any amount of wheat would be enough.”

“Not wheat. Guns. His Majesty is considering the mass production of rifles, and he’s going to need as many as he can get.”

Elenore leaned forward, looking rather amused by the suggestion. “I find it hard to believe the army would involve the nouveau noblesse in a matter of national secrecy...but for you to have proposed it, there must be some promise. Tell me more.”

“I would hardly call this a matter of national secrecy—our new Fusil 851 is ultimately nothing more than an imitation of the High Britannian Snider. A moment, if you please...” During the war against High Britannia, the Empire had secured several thousand Sniders. Regis pulled one such rifle from his personal belongings and set it down on the table. “It’s more complicated than a sword, but... Look closely. Do you see the parting lines on the edges here? All these parts are simple iron casts. If you can take this gun apart and make some molds, creating imitations of your own should be easy.”

“Hm...” Elenore stared at the rifle, her eyes completely serious. If she really were instructed to produce the Fusil 851, she would most likely receive the blueprints.

“Rather than paying with money, why not set up a factory?” Regis asked. “Your first batch will no doubt be seized as payment, but if you have the facilities, nothing would stop you from producing more and selling them to the army.”

“Mm-hmm... That is an appealing tale, but the nobles from the central regions would never part with the exclusive rights to the business.”

“Truth be told, the central nobles will struggle to even involve themselves. Iron circulation around the capital is regulated by the blacksmiths’ union in Rouenne. They may not be nobles, but their influence is far greater, in a sense. First-rate blacksmiths will refuse to do business with anyone who gets on the union’s bad side.”

Blacksmiths would make swords and armor by hand, and they were also responsible for making any required adjustments or repairs. Any nobles who earned their ire would soon find themselves unable to maintain their armies.

“Should the central nobles not be communicating with these blacksmiths, then?” Elenore asked.

“They will need to if they want to start producing and selling rifles themselves,” Regis replied. “However, with blacksmiths involved, each gun will cost an exorbitant amount to make. The attention to detail will almost certainly be unmatched...but it will not be worth the investment.”

“Oh?”

“First-rate blacksmiths are a proud sort; nobody who would produce anything short of perfection would find themselves welcome in Rouenne. For this reason, they’ll produce each part to the best possible standard...but only a select few parts actually require such precision.”

“You certainly are knowledgeable.”

“My brother-in-law has a shop in Rouenne.”

“I see...” Elenore said, nodding her understanding. “So, in the time it takes a first-rate blacksmith to create a first-rate article, we can make a fortune from selling shoddy knockoffs.”

“No, no... They need to work properly. There are lives on the line.”

Elenore grinned. “That was a joke. I’ll ensure they are operational.”

“As you should. It’s settled, then—the guns should remain simple and practical, free of any embellishments that would require unnecessary labor.”

“That doesn’t sound very Belgarian.”

“Well, these are counterfeits of the High Britannian model to begin with... Not to mention, the fundamental technologies were invented in Germania. History books note that the merits of the invention were never properly recognized in the inventor’s motherland and that, after prototypes were used to suppress a civil war, other nations were quick to snatch and study them for themselves.”

“We’re getting off track again...” Altina muttered.

“But yes, the Fusil 851 seems to use rubber,” Regis said, returning to his original point. “You can only find rubber of a high enough quality in the south, which puts you at a further advantage for the production of guns.”

“That makes sense,” Elenore said.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons Latrielle had sent Altina’s unit south. If rubber circulation were allowed to stagnate, it would severely hinder firearm production.

“That is the most advice I can offer,” Regis said. “Our liberation of Sembione will come swiftly—I can promise you that. I ask only that you discuss the matter of the new firearms with His Majesty.”

Elenore gave a meaningful smile. “You may leave the matter to me; securing orders from royalty is my specialty. That said, Regis... Are you not forgetting the most important thing?”

“Pardon...?”

“How do you benefit from all this?”

Altina’s eyes seemed to light up with interest; she had not discussed the matter with Regis, so she did not know the answer either.

“Are you hoping to procure some of these products through...less-than-legal channels?” Elenore asked in a hushed voice.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Regis replied. “The factory will no doubt be under constant surveillance, and as I said before, manufacturing these rifles is far from difficult.” To procure some himself, he would only need to set up his own factory.

Elenore paused for a moment, deep in thought. As she sat there, frozen, pensive, she looked as though she had come straight from a painting. There was no denying that she was a beautiful woman.

“I can think of several possible goals you may have...but none would necessitate what you have proposed to me,” she said.

“Perhaps there’s more to my intentions than you would assume, then.”

“Hm... So your true motivations lie elsewhere.”

“Correct. I will, however, need to return to the drawing board if your house doesn’t take control of the nation’s gun production. There are other conditions I will need to rely on...”

Elenore giggled and made no attempt to pursue the matter any further, much to Regis’s surprise. “The fewer people who know your scheme, the better,” she said. “I’ll make you reveal it all only when necessary.”

“Thank you.”

“I knew it,” Altina said, staring at Regis with wide eyes. “You haven’t given up hope. You’re still plotting all sorts of things.”

“You haven’t given up either, right?” Regis asked.

“Of course not!” Altina exclaimed, puffing out her chest.

Elenore stood up, a smile playing on her lips, and then bowed to the princess. “Please secure the peace and stability of these lands,” she said.

“I’ll do everything I can! And with Regis around, we’re going to be fine!”

Regis could already feel the immense pressure being casually placed upon him. He was by no means confident that he could succeed, but he chose not to voice his doubts. After enduring so many battles, he had discovered that taking on a weak attitude was completely pointless. Securing trust was crucial in his position.

I won’t make the same mistake again.

Once their conversation had reached its conclusion, they all exited the tent. Elenore was about to leave when Regis suddenly called out to her. “Ah, that’s right... Mrs. Elenore, please hold on a second,” he said.

“Yes?”

“The truth is, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

“Whoever could that be?”

“Do you know Elize Archibald, by chance?”

“Oh...” Elenore looked ahead with narrowed eyes. “So she’s back, is she?”

Elenore agreed to meet with Elize, but she kept the encounter brief, insisting that it was a matter best settled quickly. Once that was done, Elenore started on her journey to the capital, dead set on negotiating with Emperor Latrielle.

It was a short while later that the Fourth Army met with the forces stationed in the south. Elize would need to remain Regis’s guest, at least for the time being.