Chapter 2: Life on the Battlefield

Regis struggled against the large iron door, so heavy that its hinges wailed as it opened. At that moment, he wished it were made of wood, much like the standard doors used in town...but that was out of the question for a military structure. After eventually making his way outside, he had to press his shoulder against the door to force it shut again.

“Phew...”

He had thought that the approach of evening might have offered some respite from the heat, but the sun continued to beat down. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat beading on his brow. Just as he was about to head for the back gate of the fortress, he heard a voice from behind him.

“Where are you going?”

“Huh?!”

“Regis...?”

All of a sudden, Regis found that Altina was standing beside him, regarding him with wide eyes. It seemed the cat was already out of the bag. “I thought I would go into town to collect some information...” he said.

“Leave that to the soldiers.”

“Oh, no. There are some things I simply can’t entrust to others.”

“We may be in Belgarian territory, but this land belonged to the enemy only a hundred years ago. It’s too dangerous to walk around alone—aren’t you the one who said that?”

“That’s, well... That’s because you’re the généralissime.”

“You’re quite the VIP too, you know!”

“Please... I stand out as much as a grain of sand on a long beach.”

“Didn’t you also say something about the responsibility that comes with your position?!” Altina went on, seizing Regis by the sleeve of his uniform and swinging him to and fro.

“Waah!” Regis cried. “I just couldn’t help myself, okay?!”

“Hm? Did you have another reason for sneaking out?”

“Do you remember how we entered through the gate at noon, then headed straight for the fortress at the center of town...?”

“Yeah.”

“Along the way, I... I saw a bookstore, so...” Regis muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Hmm?” Altina wore a smile, but she was exuding a tremendous amount of wrath.

“Wait, wait, wait. Please, calm down and hear me out.”

“I’m calm. I’m listening. But there’s no guarantee that won’t change once I’ve heard what you have to say.”

“We’re talking about a bookstore two hundred lieue from the capital—I can hardly contain my curiosity as I ponder what might be kept there! It’s hardly been fifty years since movable type entered the mainstream, and people used to write books by hand before then. They might even have books from Etruria or Hispania! Sure, they might go for the same price as a house, but there’s value to be found simply in confirming they exist. I’m not expecting anything grand enough to be considered a work of fine art, of course; this is only a corner bookstore. Plus, if they ship books from the capital, it’ll only be a curated selection. Still, what could the best seller be in these parts? Whose books do they stock? Aren’t you curious?!”

“Not really.”

“Aww...” Regis deflated in an instant.

After heaving a deep sigh, Altina scratched her head, making a complete mess of the red hair Clarisse had so carefully tidied up for her meeting with the lieutenant generals. “Ah, fine,” she conceded. “Have it your way. But I’m coming too!”

“Eh?! That’s not—”

“This is my first time in a southern town too. We stopped by a few places along the way, but I never got a proper look.”

“Perhaps, but... It’s dangerous for the généralissime to travel unguarded...”

“Come on! You want to see the bookstore, don’t you?”

“Wh-Wha—?!”

The next thing Regis knew, Altina had wrapped her arm around his. He could feel a soft sensation pressing against his elbow—it seemed that she had grown in more than just character.

“Don’t worry, Regis! We won’t have anything to worry about so long as we return before sundown!”

And so, Regis was practically dragged out of the back gate. There were sentries, of course, but Altina’s red hair and crimson eyes made her stand out as royalty. Not a single person had the backbone to stop her.

✧ ✧ ✧

“W-W... Wow!” Regis cried out, his eyes darting around the store.

Altina was standing right behind him, looking rather bored. “What? Find anything interesting?” she asked.

“This... This is incredible!”

“It looks like a normal bookstore to me.”

The building itself was built in a style that wouldn’t be found around the capital, but there wasn’t much else that immediately caught the eye; the floors and ceilings were made of standard wooden boards, and the wooden bookshelves weren’t shaped strangely in any way. The fact that the clerk wore shorts was somewhat peculiar for a store that dealt in luxury items, but that was about it.

In truth, Regis and Altina were the real curiosities; a soldier who looked nothing like one and a girl whose hair color was incredibly rare in Belgaria had quickly become the focus of the other customers. Regis, however, was focused entirely on the books.

“This right here! It was published over twenty years ago!” he exclaimed. “It’s a rare edition all the collectors are looking for!”

“So it’s...an old book.”

“Yeah, that’s right! It’s an old book!”

Twenty years prior, books had gone for a much higher price. Many who wished to buy them would end up in tears, spending many long and rough years saving up enough capital to purchase the one they so longed for. There was no fiercer collector than one who learned to endure the struggle.

Regis stared at the books lining the shelves. They were not all crammed together; rather, they were displayed at an angle so that the covers were also visible. Each individual volume was an expensive luxury, and it was forbidden for customers to touch them without the clerk’s permission.

“As expected, the import fees make it more expensive than it was at first publication...” Regis mumbled. “But given that you can’t find it anywhere around the capital, this price is a steal.”

“Wait a second. Regis! That’s a whole month of your salary! Don’t be so ridiculous!”

“Oh, no. Now that I’m a first-grade, I’m earning a little more.”

On that note, the ministry that handled the soldiers’ wages no longer existed. Jurisdiction over such matters was now in the hands of the First Army...and the généralissime.

“Altina...” Regis began in a low voice. “You will pay me a proper salary, won’t you?”

“Don’t ask me. I was hoping you’d deal with all that.”

“Urk.”

Regis had entrusted the management of wages, along with all the council’s other administrative work, to Count Gauchen, but now he was having his doubts.

The First Army had taken possession of the Ministry’s buildings and much of its personnel—it was presumably the first national army with the power to decide its own budget. However, even now that Latrielle had access to so many authorities and such a great sum of money, his relationship with Altina remained strained, and the Fourth Army had no place in the imperial palace. Count Gauchen had ended up buying the estate of a fallen noble to serve as the headquarters of the généralissime’s council.

At the very least, no matter the new emperor’s will, Regis had no need to worry about the soldiers’ basic needs. Those with experience in the Ministry were experts at moving around money to ensure none of the troops starved, and for that reason, the Fourth Army’s finances were largely in the hands of the former officials Count Gauchen had summoned.

Of course, it was important to remember that the Ministry had previously employed over two thousand people, and that the portion incorporated into the généralissime’s council numbered only a hundred and fifty. This was a turbulent time of reorganization, so there was a chance that the reception of wages would end up being delayed.

Regis might have been able to open a tab had this been a bookstore in the capital, but he had no chance in the farthest reaches of the Empire. It was a shame; even he was somewhat reluctant to part with all the money he had saved from before the expedition.

“I really shouldn’t spend all my money on this,” he muttered. “What if I come across a book that I want even more?”

“That’s your reasoning?!” Altina cried out.

“Don’t get me wrong—regardless of whether I purchase this book, I’m making sure to keep half of my savings.”

“Ah. So you are considering living expenses.”

“Well, no. I placed a few preorders in the capital that I still need to pay for.”

“How are you still alive?”

“Aha... No need to worry. As long as you’re with the army, food, clothes, and shelter are all provided. I can live just fine.”

“Eeh...” Altina returned a frown, although Regis did not think he had said anything strange. The store’s selection consisted largely of volumes that were over a decade old, but that was what made it so fascinating to him.

“Aloe-Marroe... Such a nice place.”

“Please don’t judge a whole town by its books...” Altina said, exasperated.

“Aha ha... Hee hee...”

As Regis stared eagerly at the shelves, without his realizing it, he started to leak an uncanny laugh.

✧ ✧ ✧

Even after a long while had passed, Regis and Altina were still in the bookstore. As there weren’t any other customers around, Altina decided to broach the question that was playing on her mind.

“Hey, Regis. Do you think we can beat Etruria?”

“Hmm? Are you having doubts?”

“I think we’ll prevail in the end, but...I’m not sure how harsh the battle is going to be.”

“Etruria can dispatch thirty thousand troops at most.”

As a nation, Etruria was larger than Varden and Langobarti of the Germanian Federation, but it was only half as capable as High Britannia. It was probably best compared to Estaburg on the eastern front.

“Belgaria has stationed close to fifty thousand troops in the south,” Regis continued. “Forget defense and recovery—we could successfully invade and conquer Etruria.”

“So we’ll win.”

“Of course. But that isn’t the problem.”

“Really?”

Regis glanced around to make sure no other customers were in earshot. He could see the store clerk looking at them, but as long as he kept his voice down, it would probably be fine.

“The important part is how many men remain after the war,” Regis said. Soldiers were by no means an endless resource, but competent officers were even more valuable; losing too many in battle would render the unit unable to function.

“Naturally. I don’t want to lose any troops either.”

“After we’ve fought back Etruria’s invading force, I think Latrielle intends to invade them.”

“What?!”

“He proclaimed that he would conquer our neighbors within the next two years. For him to make good on that promise, he’ll need to have taken Etruria within the year.”

“But to invade them...!”

“You said it yourself—this town was part of another nation not even a hundred years ago,” Regis said. The name of that nation had already disappeared from the map.

Altina thought for a moment. “Do you think he’ll give that order to me?”

“That’s what the Généralissime’s Baton is for. And for that reason, I would like to avoid exhausting the Fourth Army in this battle.”

“I want to rid the world of war—and poverty and discrimination too, for that matter. I’m aiming for peace, yet you want me to march on foreign soil?”

“You don’t have to go personally. You could always leave that to whomever you deem more appropriate.”

“That wouldn’t change anything. I’d still be the one giving the orders. Regis, what do you think I should do?”

“You might have your objections, but Latrielle is the emperor, and the military is obligated to follow his orders. If you wish to oppose him, we would need to stage a rebellion...but the only thing that would serve is your own stubbornness.”

“You can’t mean...” Altina trailed off. She was mature enough to control her emotions, and it wasn’t as though Regis wanted to do this either. “Are you really all right with this?”

“I intend to do whatever is necessary to achieve our ideal, even if that means having to leave an unpleasant mark on history. At the very least, I believe we should follow the new emperor’s policies for the time being.”

Altina hung her head. “Right. I knew this day would come, from the moment Latrielle took the throne...”

“Just make sure to keep your emotions in check. Don’t do anything reckless without consulting me first.”

“I’m not a child. Don’t worry.”

So she said, but Regis recalled the countless stomachaches he had endured as a result of the princess’s impulsive actions. Some of those memories were rather quite recent. He let out a long breath and decided to focus on the present.

“The south was originally meant to have been under the protection of the Sixth Army,” Regis said. “Something’s been bothering me a little, so let’s have them do some work for us.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. Right now, it’s only conjecture.”

All of a sudden, the door to the bookstore swung open, and an elderly gentleman entered with a young woman by his side. The store clerk reverently bowed his head and produced from beneath the counter several books that he would never expose to the general public. This old man must have been a local celebrity of sorts.

Regis struggled to hear what they were talking about; it seemed to be about a particular book order, but he could determine no more than that. His discussion with Altina was not one that could really be had at the fortress, what with the Sixth Army about, but he could not allow any civilians to overhear him either. For that reason, he finally decided to leave the bookstore.

✧ ✧ ✧

The courtyard was in quite the uproar when Regis and Altina returned to the fortress. It seemed the soldiers had gathered for something, and as the tactician wondered what might have happened, Eric rushed over with the speed of a cavalry charge.

“Princess! Mr. Regis! Where did you go?!”

Altina gave a wry chuckle. “Into town for a bit...”

“Without any guards?! Am I really that unreliable in your eyes?!”

“N-No, of course not. I just thought the whole thing would become a big deal if we brought guards along too. We wouldn’t be able to go where we wanted.”

“‘A big deal’?! It’s already a big deal! You’re a big deal! You can’t just go wherever you want on your own, Princess!”

As the scolding continued, Altina glanced over at Regis, her eyes pleading for help. He had been the one trying to sneak out in the first place, but now he was busy staring at the soldiers grouped in the courtyard. They seemed to be surrounding...

Mercenaries? And pretty strong ones, at that.

“Ah!” he suddenly exclaimed. “The Mercenary King!”

Regis recognized a face among them—Gilbert Schweinzeberg, the leader of Renard Pendu. He had with him some very sturdy-looking cohorts.

Upon noticing that Regis had arrived, Gilbert left the gathering of soldiers and walked over. “Long time no see, Tactician,” he said.

“You really came...” Regis replied, his surprise clear in his voice.

“What choice did I have? You’re holding my men and my sisters hostage.”

“Huh? That wasn’t my intention at all. I’m sure I wrote that they were just accompanying us.”

“Yeah. And in mercenary terms, that means they’re dead unless I comply.”

“Well, I’m not a mercenary...”

Altina smiled. “You look well, Gilbert!”

“And you look like you’ve slimmed down a bit, Princess,” Gilbert replied, returning a small and surprisingly warm grin. Regis found this quite curious.

“Did you two talk a lot while I was gone?” he asked.

“Hm?” Altina tilted her head. “Not really.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Gilbert agreed.

“We did cross blades a lot though, so I guess we built up some natural camaraderie!”

“I won’t deny that.”

So they did talk, only through their muscles... Regis thought. He then cradled his head. “Wait, you were crossing blades with a prisoner? How did that come about?”

Naturally, many had been opposed to the idea, but the Fourth Army did not have anyone capable of containing Altina’s aspirations as a swordswoman. Eric sighed as he recalled the chaos at the time.

As their conversation continued, another group entered the courtyard.

“GIIIIIIL!”

The enthusiastic cry echoed through the courtyard—and perhaps even the entire fortress—as a young girl sprinted toward them at full pelt.

“Martina...” Gilbert muttered in response. His voice came out so gentle that it was like he had turned into someone else entirely.

There was a dull thud as Martina threw herself at the Mercenary King, gripping him in a tight embrace. “Gil! Gil!” she continued to shout.

Following her lead, the other members of Renard Pendu who had accompanied the Fourth Army raced over. “Captain! Captain!” many of them cried. Some even burst into tears.

Gilbert responded only with a pleased nod and an almost inaudible, “Good.”

The mercenaries who had been held in Fort Volks seemed just as overjoyed at the reunion. It was quite the moving scene, but Regis felt rather conflicted about the whole affair, considering that the Fourth Army was responsible for separating them in the first place. It was as he stewed over this moral conundrum that his eyes shifted to Jessica, who was watching from the shadows. He decided to go over to her.

“Are you not going to talk to him?” Regis asked.

“I can do that later,” Jessica replied impassively. “We are in no condition to calmly discuss our future policy.”

“I was sure you’d be most eager to see him.”

“Indeed. It feels as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Such a struggle it was, doing his job for him, and with so many bothersome people around. I had no time to read.”

“I understand completely.”

“You have my gratitude, Sir Aurick. You released my brother and reunited us, as you said you would.”

“I’m just relieved I could honor my promise.”

“Half of your promise.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten. You need financial support. I have to ask, though—why not take a contract with the Fourth Army? We have the généralissime’s council at our disposal now. The army is still being reorganized, but I think we can prepare a sum worthy of such a widely regarded mercenary brigade.”

“You are about to face Etruria, and the odds are greatly in your favor. Do you really need us? Or is this you plotting something again?”

“I may not need you for this battle, but as for the next one...”

“So that is your intention.”

“I must warn you, though—for mercenaries used to the cold Germanian weather, it may be a little harsh.”

Jessica looked to the sky, as she always did when thinking hard about something. “I shall consider it,” she said. “My brother will make the final call.”

“That works for me.”

“That face... You look as though you already know our answer.”

“I simply believe that I’ve offered acceptable terms. I can’t say how things stand on an emotional level.”

“And what if we instead take up work with Etruria or Hispania? What will you do then?”

“Hm. That would be one more thing to worry about. But I would very much recommend against doing that.”

“Why?”

“Belgaria’s neighbors haven’t yet realized that the lion they’re teasing has finally awoken. If they’re that slow on the uptake, they don’t have much longer ahead of them.”

Jessica patted down the hem of her clothes that had become ruffled in the wind. “Is the new emperor that formidable?”

“He is.”

“He was nothing special in the war against High Britannia.”

It was an understandable conclusion to make. During the war, Renard Pendu had managed to take the then second prince by surprise and inflict upon him wounds great enough to compromise his eyesight. Latrielle had also been a step behind in the defense of Fort Boneire.

Even so, Regis shook his head. “Emperor Latrielle is a capable commander, but his talents are more in line with that of a statesman. He has a personality that brings him out onto the front lines, but his injuries will force him to remain in the palace for a while. And I believe Belgaria will be all the stronger as a result.”

“Your words always lack any credible evidence.”

“In half a year’s time, the Empire will have access to enough rifles to arm every foot soldier in the Fourth Army. We may be reliant on paper casings, but we have more than enough gunpowder. Neither Etruria nor Hispania has the same industrial capacity.”

Jessica’s expression remained calm, but she offered no response. It seemed that she had no rebuttal to give.

As their conversation lulled, Eric ran over again. This time, rather than serving as a guard officer, it seemed he was running an errand.

“Mr. Regis! Your brother-in-law is here!”

“Huh?”

✧ ✧ ✧

The sky was a deep red.

Two concentric rings had formed in the courtyard. Soldiers of the Sixth Army made up the outer circle, watching warily from a distance, while the inner circle was composed of a mishmash of mercenaries. Gilbert was standing at the very center, now with Martina clinging to his back, while Altina and Regis stood opposite him. Eric was standing at their side—and, surprisingly enough, so was Regis’s brother-in-law, Enzo.

Enzo gave a hearty chuckle. “Yo, Regis! So you really are alive!”

“Yes. Somehow or other, as luck would have it,” Regis replied. “I didn’t expect you to come south.”

“Well, this and that happened.”

“Are you still repairing the soldiers’ weapons?”

“In my free time. Not that I was planning to. I thought I’d go home in time for Prince Latrielle’s coronation.”

“There were a lot of people gathered for the ceremony. It would have been the perfect opportunity to do business.”

“But then word came in about you, my dear boy. Rumor had it you’d up and died.”

“Wait, so...your being here is my fault?”

Enzo scratched his head. “Well, the princess was so outraged that she immediately headed for the capital. She wouldn’t wait for the foot soldiers, so they had to trail along behind. Didn’t even prepare the rations they needed. Seemed much too risky for me to go along with her.”

“I suppose so.”

“Worst-case scenario, we could have had a civil war on our hands.”

“Yeah...”

“I was gonna head straight home. On my own, even. Figured there was no way I could leave the wife and kids alone in those circumstances. That was, until my apprentice and the soldiers stopped me.”

“A wise decision on their part. If civil war had broken out, they’d have considered you among the traitors either way. If you’d returned to Rouenne, you’d have been arrested before you could even enter the city.”

“Yeah. Wasn’t much else I could do, so I wrote a letter to the wife telling her to go to my side of the family if she needed anything.”

“That makes sense.”

“But then, before I even had the chance to send it, a message came in. Said you were actually alive!”

“Oh, right... I suppose military express messages do travel quite fast.”

“It was a surprise, to be sure. But a welcome one,” Enzo said. He then breathed a demonstrative sigh of relief.

Regis lowered his head. “Sorry for all the trouble.”

“Hah. No worries. So yeah, there I was, thinking that was a load off my mind. Then, not even a day later, I hear that you’re headed south! I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.”

“It was a surprise for me too. I’m beginning to suspect that Emperor Latrielle just wanted us out of his sight.”

Enzo produced a carefully folded letter from his pocket. “I was wondering what to do when a letter came from the wife.”

“What?” Regis asked. He skimmed through the paper he was shown. Vanessa had written a great amount and on a wide variety of matters, but the overlying message was clear: do what you think is right.

“For me, family comes first,” Enzo said as he carefully tucked the letter away again.

“Is that so?” Regis replied. “That’s a good mindset, there are no two ways about it, but then what brings you here?” Enzo’s workshop was in Rouenne, as were his family and other apprentices.

“There might not have been any scrapping this time, but it’s going to happen eventually, right?”

“I wouldn’t say that...” Regis muttered. The soldiers of the Sixth Army were watching at a distance. It was unclear whether they could hear the conversation, but he couldn’t quite admit to his rebellious intentions with so many present. Enzo picked up on this a beat later and tactfully rephrased.

“I thought you might need my help,” he said.

Regis nodded. “I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Glad to hear it. And I really mean that. Took me half a month to get here, so I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d said you don’t need me!”

“In truth, I should be begging for your help. The only reason I haven’t been is because, as you said, your family should come first.”

“Oh, right, about that! That’s why I came south! You’re my brother-in-law, and I accepted the job to fix the princess’s sword, right? I’ve worked in Volks too, so there was no way I could return to Rouenne and act as though everything was business as usual. That’s what I was told, at least.”

“By whom?” Regis asked. He had just been thinking that such astute forethought was unusual for his otherwise straightforward brother-in-law.

“My apprentice Lionel. I don’t really get him, but he’s a smart one. I’m sure he was onto something.”

“Another wise decision...”

“You think so too? I’ve been thinking about calling my family and apprentices down south, for their safety. Though only after you’ve driven off all these invaders, Regis.”

“Remember, the princess is the commander here. I intend to do my best as well, though.”

Upon hearing this, Enzo bowed to Altina. “I think I can be of some use,” he said. “Please, use me as you see fit.”

“That’s reassuring!” the princess replied with a broad smile. “Glad to have you aboard!”

“That aside, Enzo...” Regis said in a low voice. “You came here with Renard Pendu, didn’t you? Weren’t you scared of what might happen?”

Enzo had been traveling with the very same mercenaries who had been held prisoner in the fort and forced into doing labor. Now that they were free, would they not consider seeking vengeance against the brother-in-law of the tactician whose unit had captured them?

“Gah hah hah!” Enzo laughed. “’Course not! Gilbert’s a good guy. We’re pals, even!”

“‘Pals’?!” Regis exclaimed. He looked with wide eyes at the Mercenary King, who made no effort to deny this fact.

Just what happened while I was gone?!

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day—

Bang!

The roar of a gunshot pierced the air and a single hole opened up in the set of armor leaned against the wall, right where the heart would have been had a human been wearing it. Eric swiftly loaded a new bullet, took stance again, and—

Bang!

This time, he blew open a hole in the brow of the helmet.

Those watching were astir. Five shots had been fired thus far, four of which had struck their mark. Eric was undoubtedly a skilled sharpshooter, and considering that not even two months had passed since Regis had given him a rifle, it was clear that he was being very diligent with his training.

It was just before noon, in the courtyard of Aloe-Marroe’s fortress. Eric was putting on a demonstration for the officers of the Sixth and Eighth Armies, as well as the officers of the Fourth Army who had not been present for the battles against High Britannia.

Regis picked up one of the new guns. “This is one of the rifles the High Britannian soldiers used when they marched upon Belgaria,” he explained.

“I didn’t think it could be reloaded so fast!” Dorvale piped up. Judging by the surprised expressions around him, it seemed that he was speaking for everyone.

“Indeed,” Regis replied. “With practice, it can be loaded five times faster than the muskets we’ve been using thus far. In other words, a soldier equipped with one of these can provide as much firepower as five of our current gunmen.”

“Astounding.”

“They’re also incredibly accurate. Our sharpshooter here, Eric Mickaël de Blanchard, is skilled—make no mistake about it—but hitting one’s mark with such frequency would be nothing more than a game of chance without a gun that shoots straight.”

“He’s a knight, isn’t he?” Dorvale asked. “Doesn’t he have the advantage of having been trained to use firearms from a young age?”

“Three months of training is all it would take for even the most inexperienced soldier to hit more than half of their shots.”

“Incredible.”

During their march southward, Regis had practiced firing around a hundred shots. Even then, he had shown absolutely no sign of improving. “It’s not for you,” the others had told him. “This is a waste of bullets,” they had said. “The paperwork is piling up,” they had warned.

In other words, Regis’s claim that anyone could become at least somewhat proficient with a rifle was entirely untrue. Still, he knew that explaining this would only complicate matters, plus he considered himself something of an outlier, so he had decided that such a minor detail was best omitted.

“These are confiscated High Britannian models, but you will be loaned Belgarian models in the near future,” Regis continued. “Rifleman units will soon be crucial on the battlefield, so please decide on your most capable soldiers in preparation for when this time comes.”

Dorvale groaned, while the other officers made similarly bitter faces. They were all skilled knights who excelled at close-quarters combat, so they were understandably less than pleased to hear that swords and spears were soon to be replaced.

Even so, the world was changing. Whether the Sixth and Eighth Armies would end up being added to the généralissime’s council was still up for discussion, but...it was very likely. Allowing them to continue as they currently were would only cause issues.

One of the officers raised a hand—a sinewy man who introduced himself as a knight of the Eighth Army and stood about a head taller than those around him. “Tactician, might I try firing one of these rifles?!” he asked.

“Go ahead,” Regis replied. They were relying on the supplies they had seized from High Britannia, so guns and ammunition were limited, but not so much that some practice was forbidden. He turned to Eric. “Can you teach this man?”

“Of course!” the young knight replied with a triumphant step forward. “Leave everything to me!”

Their hefty volunteer looked as though he would have been a force to be reckoned with had he been wielding a spear. He got into position, and the rifle seemed minuscule in his hands.

Eric enthusiastically corrected the man’s posture; it seemed that he had been working not only on his marksmanship, but on his teaching skills as well. It wasn’t long before his new student had a half-decent stance.

The knight closed one eye and took aim. “Hmm... This feels pretty similar to using one of the old models,” he said.

“The actual firing part is identical,” Eric said. “The sights and the loading mechanism are where things start to differ.”

“Got it.” The man readied himself and then pulled the trigger to a resounding bang. A beat later, another hole had been opened in the armor they were using for target practice. He raised a triumphant fist into the air. “Did you see that?!”

“Of course you’d hit something that close!” one of the other knights cried, dismissing the achievement outright. “Back up a little, why don’t you?! I could do that from another ten paces back!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it, then!”

It was then that the western nobles began to show their true colors; officers of the Eighth Army hopped aboard the idea one after another. Those of the Sixth Army, meanwhile, gradually began to disperse. It seemed that they were largely disinterested.

Dorvale was among those who decided to leave. “We’ll take volunteers once the guns arrive from the capital,” he said. “You said these new guns are going to be loaned to us—we won’t be expected to pay rental fees, will we?” Perhaps because Altina wasn’t there, he was taking a more condescending tone than when they had first met.

“Presumably not,” Regis replied.

“Ah, excellent. It’s already costing us a fortune to maintain our spears.”

Again, his focus is on expenses...

Dorvale acted like any other noble from the central regions, but his status by no means guaranteed his wealth. Perhaps he had good reason to be so concerned with his finances.

✧ ✧ ✧

Once the rifle demonstration was over, Regis headed for the officers’ dining hall with Eric in tow. “Thank you,” he said. “I think you made a fine impression.”

“I’m just glad I could be of some use,” Eric replied with a smile. He had looked ever so anxious from the moment Regis proposed the idea, so it was relieving to see him finally at ease again.

“I think ‘some’ is an understatement... Had I tried doing the demonstration myself, people might have come to assume the new guns are no better than toys.”

“Ah, ha ha...” Eric awkwardly looked away. “If you just practice a bit more, I’m sure—”

“Please. I think we’ve both seen enough to conclude that gunslinging is just another talent I’ll never possess. The bruise on my shoulder only recently faded.”

“Well, bruises are quite common... If you’re not used to the recoil, a single shot is sometimes all it takes.”

“Do you still get them?”

“No, not really. I’ve learned how to better divert the impact.”

“I see, I see...”

Eric lowered his head. “Thank you, Mr. Regis. On that tragic day, when I realized that I could no longer muster any strength in my left arm, I thought it was over for me. I really am grateful that I can continue to serve, as a guard and as a sharpshooter.”

“Yes, well...even with your impairment, I’m sure that you’re far stronger than me.”

“You’re a unique case. You may not be able to lift anything heavier than a pen, but you’re a match for a hundred thousand men.”

This excessive praise made the tactician quite embarrassed. Well, Eric has always been one for poetic language, he recalled. Maybe a little hyperbole is to be expected.

“I’ll do my best to meet your expectations,” Regis replied.

“And I yours. Please do continue to guide me...Mr. Regis.”

“R-Right...” Regis stammered in response.

“What...is this?”

Upon his arrival at the dining hall, Regis had to doubt his own eyes. He was rooted to the spot, quivering at the sight before him.

“Hmm?” came the familiar voice of the princess. “Oh, Regis. Looks like you’re working hard. You too, Eric.” She waved, having arrived before them.

“Who are you?” Regis asked, his lip trembling.

“Huh? Regis, what are you on about?!”

“This is impossible... The real Altina would never even touch a book!”

“How rude!” Altina exclaimed. “Even I read from time to time!”

Eric let out a dry chuckle. “Believe it or not, the princess has actually been reading lately. She started while you were away, saying that she wanted to show you how much she’s grown once you returned.”

“Th-That wasn’t the only reason,” Altina interjected, her cheeks flushed. “I used to read before, it’s just—”

Regis smiled. “How positively wonderful.”

“Y-You think so?”

“Of course. Reading is a wonderful pastime, no matter the book.”

“Aha ha...”

“You’ve gotten me in the mood to read as well, so...I’ll be off now.”

“Hey! Hold on! Didn’t you come here to eat?!” Altina cried out as Regis went to leave. Eric moved to block his escape.

Regis sighed with gritted teeth. “To be stuck watching someone else fulfill the desires of one’s own heart... This is the very definition of suffering.”

“You won’t have to wait long for food. Just keep your pants on.”

“All that sustains me are my books.”

“That’s enough out of you. I can’t even tell if you’re joking anymore.”

It was a joke, all things considered, but Regis was still very serious about his reading. Being absorbed in a book was easily enough for him to forget about hunger or any other such inconveniences.

As their squabble continued, maids began to arrive carrying large trays. Regis could see that Clarisse was among them. It was time for the other officers of the Fourth Army to enter the dining hall as well.

Today’s menu consisted of duck, ham, and venison with tomatoes and potatoes on the side. The officers dived into their meals with great gusto, while Regis brought a modestly sized piece of duck to his mouth. The fragrant citrus sauce was a magnificent detail.

“We brought quite a lot of provisions,” Regis said, “so we shouldn’t have to worry about supply for the time being. If we don’t recover our territory soon, however, we’ll have a hard time dealing with the civilians.”

“I thought that was the plan already. Did something happen?”

“Everyone else is unsure when we’ll reclaim the farms south of Aloe-Marroe, and the cost of wheat and vegetables has risen astronomically as a result. It’s having an impact all across the Empire.”

“Right... You did mention the southern farmland being important.”

“If we saw any major delays here, my plan was to procure supplies on site. But that’s not an option anymore. I didn’t expect the market value to rise this much.”

Altina sighed. “If only Dorvale took some rations with him when he fled...”

“If only...”

“All right!” Altina suddenly exclaimed, rising to her feet. “Let’s do this! We’ll push back Etruria in no time and ensure the people can have their bread in peace!” It was a very abrupt call to arms, but the officers roared in response nonetheless.

“Long live the généralissime!” one cried. “Long live the Empire!”

“Victory is upon us!” shouted another.

“For our jam and toast!” added a third.

Altina raised her fist. “Just what I wanted to hear! Gather at the front gate once you’re done eating! We’re going to train!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The princess’s rally was met with a number of spirited replies, but also with some groans. Regis was, of course, in the latter camp.

✧ ✧ ✧

The officers heaped meat onto their plates before readily shoving it down their throats. The dining hall had been rowdy enough when Regis arrived, but now it was all the more so.

After noisily devouring their meals, the officers rushed out like a storm. It was their duty to ensure their troops were in orderly file for the commander, and it was time for them to flaunt the results of their daily training.

After finishing her cup of tea, Altina stood as well. “Is something the matter, Regis?” she asked. “Are you not done eating?”

“No, I was just...thinking about things,” he replied. Aside from Altina and Eric, everybody else had rushed outside.

“Well, all right. If you’re going to stay here, at least drop by later to say hi, okay?”

“Got it.”

Altina exited the hall, with Eric following along as her escort officer. Regis, meanwhile, continued staring at his empty plate. “It...might be possible,” he mumbled to himself.

In an instant, Regis hurried to his room and put pen to parchment. His quill raced across the page, and no sooner had he dotted his last sentence than he folded the letter up and secured it with his own wax seal. He flew out of the room...

“Ah!”

...and almost collided with someone in the corridor.

“Eep!”

A rather endearing cry came from a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes—Elize Archibald. Bastian had entreated Regis to safely deliver her to the south, and even now she accompanied the army as a guest.

“Ah, sorry...” Regis said. “I was in a bit of a hurry.”

“It must be something quite urgent. Please, excuse me.”

“No, not urgent enough to warrant startling a lady. My apologies,” Regis said, correcting his posture. Although the girl standing before him looked as young as a child, she seemed to be concealing a very high standing.

Elize giggled. “You know, this has been on my mind for a while, but...you hardly act like a soldier, Regis.”

“Yes, I get that a lot...”

She glanced out the window, at the Fourth Army visible just beyond the walls. The skies were beginning to darken, but the men still marched and changed formation in accordance with their orders. “Are you going into battle again?” she asked.

“Hmm? No, they’re just training.”

“All troops, march!” signaled the bugle, spurring seven thousand foot soldiers to match pace and press forward. Then, after a moment—“Right turn!”—all the men in formation turned and started right.

Regis was astounded. “They’ve really pulled themselves together,” he said. “They were quite a mess when we left the capital.”

“I...don’t really get it,” Elize admitted. “For what reason would they make everyone walk the same way like that? It just seems like a way for a commander to lord their authority over their soldiers.”

“An uneven formation creates a weakness to be exploited. A single soldier ends up without any comrades beside him, forced to take on two or three enemy soldiers.”

“Oh, really?”

“Our soldiers train to synchronize their steps in order to keep a consistent formation when they make contact with an enemy army.”

“I fail to see why that’s so important, though. Can’t a single Belgarian take on a hundred men?”

“Huh...?”

“Bastian could.”

“Yes, well... I think you’ll find that he’s an exception.”

“Ah. I should have figured.”

A hundred men? What’s that supposed to mean? Just what did the third prince get up to across the seas in High Britannia?

Elize glanced out the window again, this time with a more pained expression. “As a soldier, you might laugh at me for this, but...war terrifies me.”

“I would never. It frightens me too.”

“Is that true?”

“War brings death. I’ve feared that for as long as I’ve lived.”

“Then why go to war?”

“Because our inaction would result in even more death,” Regis replied—not that this was true for every war.

“I see...” Elize said, hanging her head. “If an enemy invades, then you have no choice but to fight.”

“And if a country shows weakness, its neighbors may even decide to take advantage of it and join the fray. That’s simply how things stand. Personally, I pray that we can one day form a relationship where we support one another instead.”

“Ah. You mentioned something like that at Madame Bourgine’s. Pacifism, correct?”

“Indeed.”

“I agree that nations are better off working together than against each other.”

“It’s...reassuring to hear that from you.”

“Likewise. I consider it heartening to find common ground with someone in your position, Mr. Regis.” Elize exchanged a passing glance with the tactician, but neither she nor he smiled. Her expression became tinged with sorrow. “In my homeland, there were plenty of people who were against the war...yet it happened nonetheless. We were told it was for wealth and national interest, but why must people die for money?”

Regis shook his head. “Emperor Latrielle said something similar, but this assertion that war is needed for the economy... It’s a lie.”

“What?”

“One needs only look to history to see that war does not bring wealth to the populace, nor does it lead to any net gain in technological advancement.”

“But I’ve heard about tools once used for war becoming objects we use in our everyday lives.”

“Insignificant compared to the vast swathes of wisdom lost in battle. Even from a financial perspective, it would take a hundred years of war to achieve the level of economic growth that a peaceful nation sees in ten.”

“Are you certain?”

“Say there is a nation where even children must be taught to use a sword. Now, compare that to a peaceful nation that instead establishes vast trade networks and sends students to study in foreign lands. It should be plain as day which one will succeed financially.”

“Mm... I do recall a nation like that.”

In contrast to the Empire, which was always at war, High Britannia had spent several decades at peace, devoting its undivided attention to trade. By developing its industries, it had grown at a rate unseen in Belgaria, despite its landmass being only a fraction of the size. Had it not attempted such a reckless war, perhaps it may have dominated its neighbors financially instead.

“In this coming age, war between nations will come at a much greater cost, and as this new firearm circulates, battles will cease to be contests of strength. Soon, international struggles will devolve into graceless massacres. Any ruler who still wishes for war at that point must be blind to everything but their own ideals.”

“Ah...”

“Or putting on an act to draw attention away from internal failures.”

“What do you mean?”

“The role of a government is the distribution of wealth, whether that be through industry maintenance, social welfare, or the establishment of public facilities. The issue is, the upper class receives special rights, and everyone beneath them feels the inequality. As their dissatisfaction builds, the current regime finds itself under greater and greater scrutiny. That is why the ruler creates an enemy—someone to unite the people against, to foster sympathy and stifle much of the condemnation.”

Elize turned pale, aware that she might one day become a ruler herself. “If a nation’s people are dissatisfied, is it not the ruler’s duty to address their dissatisfaction?” she asked.

“Resolving national discontent is a complicated task, like trying to divide eight slices of pizza among ten people. Criticizing one’s neighbor and turning them into a reprehensible menace is quite a bit easier.”

“That can’t be!”

“There doesn’t even need to be a firm basis for this resentment; in fact, it could be a complete fabrication. Simply proclaiming that there are enemies outside the nation’s borders is enough to unify a nation under a once questionable ruler. And once the critics are removed, an ideal state is born—for the insincere statesman, at least.”

“Is that why Margaret declared war on Belgaria?” Elize asked, her fists clenched.

“In her case, I think she was put up to it by those in positions of authority. While the nation was at war, they could neglect the fair distribution of wealth, abandon those they were supposed to save, and suppress all dissenting voices.”

“Erk. How frustrating...” Elize muttered. There were tears welling up in her eyes.

I wasn’t trying to make her cry...

“Most rulers start out dreaming of their ideal nation,” Regis attempted to explain, “but their fair policies are impeded by vested interests. They’re worn thin by the public’s bottomless demands, and they ultimately fall to the falsehood of a common foe. If any statesman spends more time criticizing than they do resolving internal issues, it can be safe to assume they are craving an enemy to save their own skin.”

Maybe I phrased that too harshly... Regis worried, but his words seemed to fill the young woman with resolve. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Thank you. I’ll... I’ll take your words to heart.”

“Ah, no. They’re not my words. I simply read them in a book.”

After scratching his head and giving a polite bow, Regis made haste for the front gate, where the Fourth Army was continuing its training.