Chapter 1: The Girl with Red Hair and Crimson Eyes

The sky hung heavy with clouds the dull gray of lead. Quite the familiar sight, Regis mused. The same dreary atmosphere had loomed overhead on the day he received the decree banishing him to the border.

His eyes returned to the land. While the sky above had indeed been recognizable, the town ahead bore few similarities to the capital. He felt no lingering attachment to the marble, the brick and the streetlamps he had grown so accustomed to, but the narrow, walled streets ahead did bring a prison to mind.

This was the border town of Theonveil, over a hundred lieue (444 km) from the capital and a five-day trip by carriage. The streets were dim despite it being the height of noon, and the air carried a cold, stinging bite. This wasn’t unusual for a town in the northern outskirts of the nation during the midst of winter, but Regis couldn’t help but see the weather as an apt metaphor for the road ahead.

Am I a failure? he wondered. He had lost his lord, his standing and his future, and to add further insult to injury had been exiled to the front lines in the north.

“Can’t complain, I guess... Life isn’t all about promotions. I’ll get more time to read out here.”

The caravan arrived just as the church was ringing its afternoon bell. As his fellow travelers scattered in search of lunch, Regis made a beeline for one particular shop that couldn’t have been further from an eatery.

Its windows were lined with books, and the wooden door gave way to rows of packed shelves which lined the building’s stone interior. The faint scent of paper and ink lingered in the air.

“Ah, I am free where there are books, and such a place shall be my home.” A quote from Coillier Romeros’ Travels Through Bourgogne, he subconsciously tacked on.

Regis would only go so far as to proclaim himself an avid reader, but he was more truthfully an insatiable book rat—le rat de bibliothèque. His eyes passionately traced over the shelf of new releases.

“H-How could this be...!?” his lips quickly trembled.

“Hm? Something wrong, soldier?” the bearded man behind the back counter called over. His muscular build and the scar across his cheek made him look more like an instructor from a military academy than the keeper of a bookstore.

Almost oblivious to his overpowering aura, Regis parted his lips again to speak.

“I can’t find Coillier’s newest work. In fact, I don’t see Count Ludosel or Professor Illue here, either... Are they all sold out? I know they’re awfully popular, but this selection is terrible.”

“Well, soldier, I take it you came from central.”

“Yeah, I just arrived from the capital...”

“Ah, then that explains your confusion. Those sorta books don’t sell out here, so we rarely stock them, if ever.”

“...Could... Could you please... repeat that...?”

Regis’s voice escaped gravelly as though he were stranded and pleading for water in the desert. His throat had dried up in the blink of an eye. This all elicited little more than a shrug from the storekeeper, and it became very quickly apparent that he wasn’t joking.

“This is a war zone. The only profit to be had is in tales of heroics and eroticism. Just have a look at our best seller.”

The title he pointed out read, “How to Write Your Will without Regrets.”

This can’t be happening! Regis screamed internally as he hugged his head.

“H-Hold on a tick... You don’t stock such famous best-sellers? Am I really still in Belgaria? Have I, by chance, taken a wrong turn into a barbarian settlement?”

“No, this is indeed Belgaria. Although it was only fifty years ago that we belonged to the country one over.”

“Erk... And what’s the deal with these prices? This is more than ten times what it goes for in the capital...”

Having finally found a book that caught his eye, Regis had picked it up to have a closer look, but he was already on the verge of tears.

“Books are heavy and bandits are rampant—it’s a trial and a half just to get them here. Not to mention the tiny customer base... In these parts, books are just another expensive hobby for the upper class,” the bearded storekeeper indifferently explained.

“Dear Lord, why!?”

“Yeah, sorry about that...”

The shopkeeper reached to take the book from the distraught Regis, who hurriedly pressed it against his chest in a panic.

“Wait, wait, wait, I never said I wasn’t buying it!”

“Huh, are you serious!? By the look of things, you’re still a young recruit. I know it’s in my best interests to make a sale, but... Pardon me, would that not cost a whole week of your salary?”

“Ghhh... This is hell...” Regis groaned.

It was at that moment the storekeeper blurted out an awry “Oh!?” as his eyes shot open. Regis traced the man’s line of sight as he turned.

There in the doorway stood a girl, her form emblazoned by the light streaming in from outside.

She was a lovely-looking young woman with blazing crimson hair and red, ruby-like eyes. She had to be around thirteen or fourteen years old. While some immature features lingered on her face, she carried a charm that caught the eye and kept it—enough so that he was subconsciously taken in.

She raised her index finger in front of her lips.

Be quiet? But why? What could she mean?

To have another customer patronize the store was far from unusual, and yet Regis could feel a peculiar unrest.

The girl lowered her gesture before parting her lips.

“There are plenty of conscripts who lament the hell of the battlefield upon being dispatched to the front lines, but I reckon you’re the first to do so in a bookshop,” she said in a refreshingly clear voice. An energetic smile crossed her face before she continued.

“We finally meet! You’re Fifth-Grade Administrative Officer Regis Aurick, correct?”

“Huh? Oh, me?”

“Oh, are you not?”

“No, ah—yes, I am! I am Regis.”

“Excellent! I was starting to think I had the wrong person. I’m not too sure what I would’ve done had that been the case...”

Her relieved smile carried an innocence befitting her age.

Regis soon felt a strange warmth spread across his cheeks. The girl before his eyes was clearly so beautiful that— No, that wasn’t it. He was simply ashamed by how flustered he had acted simply because an evidently younger girl had called his name.

“Wait, my name... Why do you know my name?”

“When you’ve been sent to retrieve someone, it’s fairly crucial to at least remember their name, no? Please don’t regard me as though I’m some stupid child.”

“Oh, no, that wasn’t my intention at all. I see now, you’re here for me.”

Regis took another look at the girl. She wore a brown hooded robe, under which he caught a glimpse of leather pants and boots; common attire for a coachman.

“If you’re here from the fort, does that make you a soldier?”

“You tell me. Do I look like one?”

“No... probably not. You’re underage, aren’t you?”

“Correct. I just turned fourteen.”

The age of adulthood in the Belgarian Empire was fifteen. Barring extreme circumstances, minors were unable to enlist in the military.

“I see. Then you must be the driver of a hired carriage. I had planned on taking the public stagecoach. To have a personal escort, I must be quite the VIP.”

“Are you glad to receive such special attention?”

“It makes me a little depressed, honestly. It’s like they’re telling me to hurry up and get back to work.”

“Fufu, you’re surprisingly honest.”

“I’m not one to lie.”

“Is that so? But you’re... a tactician, are you not?”

The girl stared at him with her ruby eyes. Regis could feel an indescribable intensity from the girl four years his junior.

“...Well, there are some who would call me that... I only enlisted with the intention of working in the military library.”

“Sounds like an interesting story. How about we continue it on the road?”

“Sure...”

Feeling almost unable to breathe, Regis tugged at his collar in a feeble attempt to loosen it. Meanwhile, the crimson-haired girl was urging him outside.

“Come on, we need to go. The clouds are getting heavier; there’s a good chance it might snow soon.”

“You’re right. —Ah, I nearly forgot!”

Just as he was making his way out, Regis suddenly recalled his position and returned to the shopkeeper. He placed the money for the book on the counter.

“I’ll be purchasing this. Hm? What’s wrong? You’re not looking too good.”

“No, I’m fine. Come again anytime, soldier.” While Regis couldn’t begin to guess the reason, the bearded storekeeper had lowered his head, one hand rested across his mouth. He seemed to be holding in words.

The girl once again approached, although this time with a visibly sour expression.

“Are you an idiot, perhaps!?”

“W-What’s this, all of a sudden...?”

“In these borderlands, books are far too expensive a pastime. Only the rich and the foolish would shell out such a fortune!”

“Well, not that I’d ever call myself a smart man... but the lust for knowledge is, to me, the most glorious aspect of human nature. It’s what defines us as human, and abiding by that base instinct through reading is what gives me purpose, no matter the expense. My funds may run dry but, the way I see it, giving up on reading is no different from giving up on life.”

Only after he’d finished did Regis shut his lips tight, ashamed he had gotten so worked up over a comment from a child. Her eyes were still fixed on him, her expression now serious to a surprising degree. She gave a low nod.

“The same as giving up on life... I see. I may be able to sympathize. I also...”

“You also...?”

“Ah, nothing! We need to go!”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Regis wedged his freshly-bought book under one arm, snatched up his baggage and trailed the girl out of the shop. A small, covered one-horse wagon was parked under the eaves, from which a lean, dark brown horse peered at him.

The girl’s long hair fluttered as she nimbly jumped up onto the cabman’s perch which was at waist-height.

“C’mon, hurry up!”

“Sure... What’s your name, by the way?” Regis asked, looking up at her.

The look in her eyes sharpened. She lowered her voice, clearly enunciating each syllable to end all discussion.

“I. Will. Leave. You. Be. Hind.”

He hurriedly clambered up into the seat beside her. Now was clearly not the right time to ask.

✧ ✧ ✧

With a clitter-clatter, the wooden wheels stumbled their way across the earthen road. They passed through the northern gate of the town’s stone walls. Their destination was the frontmost line, Fort Sierck.

The girl sat in the driver’s seat with a firm grasp on the reins. To her right, Regis sat holding his baggage. There was a canopied wagon bed behind them that seemed to be loaded with lumber and brick.

“—So, you wanted my name?”

“Right. What am I supposed to call you?”

“Let me see...”

The girl touched the fingertip of a stiff-gloved hand to her shapely chin in thought. Was there any need to think about that? Regis doubtfully wondered.

Her tight lips finally loosened.

“Yes. You may call me Altina.”

“Is that an alias?” he asked thoughtlessly, given that she had taken so long to answer. But doing so was a clear mistake—the girl named Altina furrowed her brow.

“...How rude... It’s a lovely nickname, is it not? I was considering giving you special permission to use it, but perhaps I should take that back?”

“I’m sorry, beg pardon, I would be honored to call you Altina!”

“Very well then, I’ll allow it. ...If you insist.”

“I insist.”

“Hm... You’re not very soldier-like, you know that?”

“Haha, I’m aware.” As Regis gave a bitter laugh, Altina was led along into a smile of her own.

Farms of wheat spread out on either side of the road they traveled. With it being winter, these bore nothing but lines of small seedlings indistinguishable from the undergrowth. The world had become a bichrome of gray sky and barren earth.

Altina spoke with her eyes facing forward.

“Hey, you didn’t volunteer to come here, did you?”

“No, I was more than happy working in the military library. To be honest, I only joined because I was having trouble finding the money to live, let alone buy books. ...Come to think of it, does Fort Sierck have a library?”

“I get the feeling that’s what they’ll be calling your room, eventually.”

“Quite the novel observation...” he muttered blankly.

“Hm, was that an attempt at a pun?”

“Ah, n-no, I wasn’t—”

“Heh. What did you even do in your previous unit?”

“Eh? Have you started to doubt that I’m even a soldier?”

“Not quite. I’m talking about what you had to do to get shipped off to the front lines.”

“Ah. I believe it’s my punishment for losing a battle.”

“And you just accepted that? You’re a fledgling non-commissioned officer. Isn’t it strange for someone of your status to take such responsibility when you aren’t even in command of any troops? Did something happen?”

Regis cast his eyes into the distance, beyond the seedlings lining the wheat fields to the highs and lows of the mountains beyond the horizon.

“...He was a good man.”

“Who was?”

“My previous employer. I was never any good at swordsmanship or horse-riding; I was always behind everyone else at the military academy. Only Marquis Thénezay would employ a failure like me.”

“A failure? I’ve heard rumors that you were undefeated when it came to strategizing.”

“You’re surprisingly knowledgeable. I wonder who you could have heard that from... Rumors are always embellished, you see. Military stratagems may have been my one saving grace, but those were never real battles. It was more akin to playing chess.”

“But, if I’m not mistaken, Thénezay hired you as a tactician, not to play chess.”

“I was at the bottom of a rather lengthy totem pole. I was only fifteen when I left school and all; I was an apprentice, so to speak.”

“Bottom or not—apprentice or not—it’s still pretty amazing for a commoner to become a staff officer at such a young age... Were you dissatisfied with your position?”

“Perish the thought! The marquis may have hired me on a whim but, even so, I felt a deep debt of gratitude toward him. I still do.”

That was precisely why the corners of his eyes grew warm and wet when he thought back to their parting. Regis hugged the luggage in his arms tight, squashing the leather bag.

“...The marquis said he needed me. And yet... I... practically left him to die.”

His voice was so low it was hard to recognize as his own. Altina’s expression was steadfast.

“If I recall, it was during the summer campaign—”

“Yeah...”

She’s pretty in the know for a hired coachman, Regis thought. Did life on the front lines make her interested in the state of the war? Is she just a weirdo? Or is there a deeper reason behind her interest that I just can’t see?

“What do you mean you left him to die?”

“Well, this is little more than my opinion...”

“Then I want to hear your opinion on the matter. Not through rumors. I need to hear it directly from you. That’s why I’m... Hey. Just tell me.”

He thought for a while. There was still a long road ahead, and it was hardly something he could hide; he’d already divulged everything at the court-martial, and it was even in the imperial weekly paper.

About that summer day—the words cast and the expressions he witnessed would never leave his head and yet, when it came time to speak, he had no idea where to begin. He needed some time to put his thoughts in order.

“...During the battle... Marquis Thénezay implemented the chief tactician’s proposal. Well, I’ll spare you the details. They were going up against, at most, five hundred barbarians with an imperial army three thousand strong. Victory was a foregone conclusion, and, rather than the battle, the council discussion was turning more toward what wine would best accompany the duck for dinner.”

“They were throwing a victory party before the battle had even begun?”

“It’s not too rare. The imperial army is strong, after all. The problem was, we had absolutely no countermeasures for if the enemy flanked us and took our rear.”

“But the enemies were barbarians. Would they really attempt something so intricate?”

“Admittedly, with their lack of coordination, it would be difficult for them to pull off such complicated maneuvers successfully. That’s why they tend to prefer head-on collisions. However, there are records of barbarians attempting sneak attacks in cases where the difference in troops is just too great. We needed to be more wary—I advised them of this twice. But the chief tactician merely laughed me off as a coward, proudly telling the marquis that his only concern from the rear would be his obscured view of our victory...”

“And so you were driven from the war council.”

“Yeah...”

Regis recalled a similar exchange at the court-martial where he had felt as though he were being interrogated. Even now, he wondered what would have happened had he braved the inevitable harsh reprimand to advise them a third time. The surprise attack could have been prevented simply by placing someone on watch.

“Do you blame yourself?” Altina asked quietly.

“...I was so fearful of what punishment would come after my banishment... I couldn’t bring myself to intervene a third time.”

“That chief tactician was a noble, wasn’t he?”

“I think so...?”

“In that case, he couldn’t have upheld a commoner’s advice no matter how many times you tried. I’m sure Marquis Thénezay would not have done anything that risked soiling the name of the noble he had appointed to the position.”

“Ah...”

A commoner born and bred, Regis, who was quite unfamiliar with noble society, hadn’t realized the marquis was attempting to save face for the chief tactician. If only he’d given it just a little more thought. He had not been lacking in information, after all—their status and house relations had been no secret.

“Which means you don’t have to beat yourself up over it,” Altina consoled.

“No, now that you mention it, there were plenty of flags that should have tipped me off. It was my blunder to have not taken the reputation of nobles into consideration. If I had advised the marquis in private, rather than at the strategy meeting, then just maybe...!”

Regis grit his teeth. The pit of his stomach grew heavy and the corners of his eyes grew hot, his vision blearing.

“Regis Aurick!” Altina raised a dignified voice.

“Yes!?” Rather than the sudden mention of his name, it was the intensity of the voice that caught him off guard this time. He could hardly believe it had come from a cab driver.

“It’s already said and done. You did your best, did you not?”

“...Yeah, perhaps. But I don’t want to believe the marquis died for something as worthless as a noble’s prestige. It was surely my thoughtlessness.” A bit too late, I know, Regis added to himself.

Altina nodded back. He watched as a small, white grain grazed her face from above, causing him to look up at the sky. A number of white shadows fluttered their way down.

“Snow...” she muttered.

Regis shrugged.

“Snow on my first day... Talk about a warm welcome. Ahaha...”

“You won’t be laughing when this becomes a blizzard.”

“...You’re right.”

“Have you ever lived in the north?”

“I’ve read about it in books.”

“...I see. We’re picking up the pace—hold on to something!” Altina let out a noise that blended anger and amazement as she cracked her whip at the horse.

✧ ✧ ✧

A wolf cried out in the distance. Its familiar howl was a symbol of fear for all travelers, and as it turned out, for the horse pulling the cart as well. It suddenly gave a grand shake of its head and veered off the road.

“Get back!” Altina tugged at the reins.

The horse neighed.

Regis froze.

The cart meandering down the snow-piled path gouged out damp earth as it suddenly slid and ended up at a diagonal. The wood and brick loaded in the canopied bed behind them took a noisy tumble that ended with the ominous sound of snapping wood.

An impact to the rear set Regis’s body momentarily afloat.

“Waaaah!?”

“Bear with it!”

It was Regis who had screamed, Altina gripping his shoulder in an attempt to hold him down. He barely avoided falling from his seat.

The cart had come to a halt smack-dab in the middle of the road.

The horse came to a stop and brayed. It seemed to be aware of its mistake, its behavior almost anxious, like a child waiting to be scolded.

Altina jumped down from her seat, huddled up to the horse, and caressed its head.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?”

The horse answered with a chuff. Regis had no idea what it had meant but noticed Altina’s subsequent concern over its right hind leg.

“Is it in danger?”

“...He’ll run if you force him, but... if his leg worsens much more, he’ll have to be put down.”

Altina stroked the horse as she let out a sigh. She removed the harness to let it rest, though she made sure to fasten a rope to prevent it from straying.

Regis gazed at the hazy horizon beyond the snow.

“Is it far to Fort Sierck?”

“Around five lieue (22 km)... but we won’t make it if we walk from here.”

“Why?”

“A blizzard is coming. And we have no lantern, so the night will be pitch black. If we lose our path and wander into the fields, we could walk till dawn and still never reach the fortress. We could even fall into a ditch.”

“Well, I’d rather not walk five lieue with my luggage to begin with.”

“Are you really a soldier!?”

“Haha... I was always terrible at the loaded march. I would end up stranded from the rest, and at that point it became more survival training than marching.”

Altina sighed again and pressed her fingers against her temples.

“What should we do?” Regis tilted his head.

“Shouldn’t the tactician be the one coming up with ideas here?”

“No, I may have some skill in moving troops, but... this is a job for a peddler, adventurer, or soldier.”

“You are a soldier!”

“Oh, right.”

“You really are something!”

“Hey, just stay calm, Altina. These things generally tend to work themselves out.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sure that, after the two of us have frozen to death in the blizzard, everything will be fine.”

“That’s a little harsh...”

“So do you really not have any ideas?”

“Hm, let’s see... I guess I could give this a read.”

Regis took out the book he’d purchased in town.

“Ah, you bought a book for this very situation? I should expect no less from a top strategist.”

“Well, uh, this piece is about a fairy who appears before a young boy, making six beautiful women from his storybook come to life. It is a complete work of fiction, and—”

“Are you stupid!? This is no time to read such nonsense!”

“Nonsense? How rude. I believe you owe the author an apology.”

“If you freeze to death, you’ll never be able to read again! The closest you’ll get to a story’ll be the priest reading you your last rites!”

“That’s precisely why... I at least want to read the last book I bought.”

“You’ve given up way too quickly!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But panicking will get us nowhere; we should be level-headed in this situation. First off, let’s move to the wagon. The cover should be a slight improvement, at least.”

“...You have a point.” There was already snow piling onto Altina’s head and shoulders when she climbed into the wagon.

The skid had forced the loaded lumber and brick to one side. Regis lowered himself down in the now empty spot, and Altina took a seat nearby.

“You were right. We’re protected from the wind in here.”

“It’s still pretty cold, though.”

“We can’t do much about that. Once we get to the fort, I swear the first thing I’m going to do is take a hot bath.”

“A hot bath? That’s quite the luxury for a cab driver... Are you, by chance, acquainted with some higher-up at the fort?”

“Urp.”

For some reason, Altina was at a loss for words. Not too far off, he inferred.

“I guess I’ll find out once we reach the fort.”

“If we reach the fort...”

The snow and wind grew in strength, making for a genuine blizzard. It was fierce enough to reach the inside of the canopy. Altina’s shoulders shivered uncontrollably.

“Brr...”

Regis tried thumbing through a book in his memory.

“It’s best not to move in this situation.”

“Is that so?”

“Rather than wasting energy, we’re better off waiting for another carriage to pass by. How many people in the fort know about your absence? Would they forget about a hired driver? Do you have friends waiting for you?”

“I-I don’t know... I’m pretty sure they haven’t forgotten about me. They should be... worried. Probably.”

“Then there’s a high chance a search party will come before night falls. There’s only one road between the fort and town. They shouldn’t hesitate if they already know where you should be.”

“I see... You’re pretty clever.”

“I’m just using the information I’ve learned from other people.”

I’ve just read a similar tale in a book, Regis thought. That was all it was to him.

“Now that that’s settled, we need to use what we have to stave off the cold.”

Altina shot up.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve got just the thing!”

“Mn?”

“We have a cloth with us... though it is rather small.”

Altina pulled a rough piece of cloth from under the lumber as she spoke.

“It really is small.”

“But it’s thick and warm. Use it.”

“Thanks... but I’d like you to use it instead.”

“Oh...?”

“I know I may not seem like one, but I’m still a soldier. Is it not a soldier’s duty to protect the empire’s citizens?”

“That is the official stance, at least...”

“I’m being serious here.”

“Hm. You’re an interesting one, you know that? All right then, how about this?”

Altina returned triumphantly with the cloth, sat on Regis’s left, and huddled up close to him. Her right arm wrapped tightly around his left.

“W-What are you doing!?”

“Voilà! Now one blanket can warm two.”

“Ah... I-I see.”

Her body heat far outweighed the warmth of the blanket, and before he knew it his heartbeat had accelerated something awful. He could even feel droplets of sweat start to form on his back.

Regis negotiated with himself. Calm down, would you? She’s a fourteen-year-old child—a minor by all accounts. She’s definitely pretty, but to become so flustered over our intertwined arms is a disgrace. Are you not an adult?

Altina’s face drew near.

“Are you okay? Your face has turned somewhat red...”

“It’s— It’s nothing.”

“That so...?”

Then came the silence, broken only in part by Altina’s breathing which was almost indistinguishable beneath the harsh howls of the wind.

“...Regis?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re a very peculiar person.”

“Ha... I get that a lot.”

“That soldiers should protect citizens is an empty platitude. There are many who believe the soldiers are far more important and valuable.”

“Perhaps... but shouldn’t those with power protect those without? After all, that’s the very reason humans form societies. Just as an adult would protect a child, it’s only natural for the strong to defend the weak. That’s why a soldier should protect their fellow citizens. That’s how I see it.”

“Which means the aristocrats should protect the commoners, and the emperor his populace?”

“In an ideal world. But now pointless wars waged by nobles expend both the commoners’ lives and assets.”

“Is the war with the barbarians really pointless? It’s proven impossible to make peace with them, and to lose would mean the deaths of all of us.”

“...I’ll agree, the barbarians are terrifying. But if we earnestly wanted to protect our land and people, we would pull back to a more defensible position and build a long, sturdy wall.”

“Couldn’t they just scale it?”

“Maybe, but their cavalry and carriages wouldn’t be able to pass through so easily. It’d be enough to deter a large-scale advance.”

“Oh, you have a point... I wonder why the generals haven’t done that. Has the idea never occurred to them?”

“It’s not that. The strategies I propose have long been written about in books propagated through the empire a hundred times over. The elites refuse to take such preventative measures because war is their business. For one, grand victories against the barbarians raise the military’s reputation. Weapons and food are also required for war, both of which can go for a pretty penny. And there’s also the military academies where troops are trained, which are a source of income for aristocrats. While it may burden the nation as a whole, war brings considerable profit to those in power.”

“That’s unforgivable!”

Altina’s face closed in once more, practically snapping at him. Regis was forced to pull his body back, though their linked arms prevented his escape.

“C-Calm down, Altina... I never said everyone in the upper echelon was cut from that same cloth. In fact, Marquis Thénezay was different.”

“...Was he?”

“Yeah. He even sent a report directly to the emperor opposing the continued expansion of the empire’s territory. He wanted to instead focus on stabilizing the land we already have. He proposed the construction of walls during the aristocratic conference.”

“It’s a wonderful idea! If the war ends, both poverty and death should go down by a large margin.” Regis had gotten Altina’s eyes sparkling—

And then she went quiet. Her expression turned grim for an instant.

“...Could it be, that’s why...?”

“Mn? What’s wrong, Altina?”

“No, my mind wandered to something unimportant. Still, I see. There are various sorts among nobles as well.”

“Yeah, which is why we’re in serious hot water unless the emperor gets a grip,” Regis said bitterly.

Altina winced. It was a small motion, but one that was easily noticeable due to her close proximity.

“...Would you say the current emperor is... misguided?”

“I’d rather not be tried for treason on top of everything else that’s happened, but...”

It was possible he had already said too much. That being the case, they were trapped in a blizzard. His only audience was Altina and her horse. Regis loosened his tongue.

“The current emperor has been on the throne for too long. He’s grown too old to maintain his official station. By all accounts, he should have abdicated to the first prince five years ago, but the first prince is of feeble constitution, while the second has shown talent in both governance and warfare. It’s little wonder that the second prince is the one with the stronger backing, too.”

“It really is convoluted...”

While born first, the first prince was the son of the second concubine, whereas the second prince was mothered by the legal wife, the empress. As a noble, the empress enjoyed a much higher status, too. This had led to a problem of succession in the empire.

“A struggle of succession between two princes... is more so a power struggle between their backers. This has extended the withered emperor’s time on the throne, allowing the nobles to do as they please and causing a wash of decay across our nation.”

“What about the other imperial children?”

“There’s a third prince but—well—he’s still a fifteen-year-old student. I doubt he’ll ever rise to rival his brothers.”

“T-There’s one more... isn’t there?”

“Mn? Oh... Come to think of it, the commander at Fort Sierck was royalty, wasn’t she?”

“Right! W-What about her!?”

Altina closed in a third time, causing Regis to retreat to the right. He was now on the verge of falling out of the wagon.

“The Arrow-Sparrow Princess, eh...?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the nickname of the fourth princess, Marie Quatre. Her real name is so long that no one remembers it.”

“Well, I suppose it is a bit long...”

“I think it was Marie Quatre Argentina de Belgaria... I’m good at remembering stories, but I’ve always had trouble when it comes to long names.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Altina muttered somewhat sarcastically. “I want to hear more about the ‘Arrow-Sparrow Princess.’”

“I’m going to be under her command, so I wouldn’t want it to be taken as slander... It’s just what she’s known as in the capital.”

“Yes, but what does it mean?”

“I only know the details second-hand... but I suppose we’ve got plenty of time to spare. This is the tale of a pitiful princess sent off to the furthest border—”

✧ ✧ ✧

Fifteen years prior—

To further contextualize our narrative, let us begin with the tale of Marie Quatre’s mother.

The imperial capital of Verseilles was ablaze in celebration with the grand party to celebrate His Imperial Highness’s fiftieth birthday. The court orchestra played a waltz and the tables were lined to the brim with extravagant dishes, all while the generals offered their congratulations with the war reports they had brought as gifts. A party so grand that it put all others to shame: they had invited not only influential aristocrats and notorious tycoons but even low-ranking nobles and their families.

Among the commoners at the foot of the table sat a breathtaking beauty. Her night-black hair and obsidian eyes were an avid contrast to her snow-white skin, making it appear even whiter in comparison.

And vying for the attention of this young woman going on sixteen was, of all people, the emperor himself, who had stepped down from the throne and parted the crowds to approach her.

“Would you care for a dance, mademoiselle?”

By the official record of the imperial scribe, Claudette Barthélemy gave a polite curtsey before replying:

“With pleasure, monsieur. To whom do I owe the honor?”

There are a number of theories as to why she had asked the emperor’s name. The theory that she just hadn’t noticed who she was talking with seemed far too insulting to be true. That she had noticed but persisted with the proper etiquette drilled into her, or was rather a brazen woman who dared to joke with His Majesty, were much more convincing speculations. The truth of the matter was one saved for her alone.

The black-haired beauty reached out her hand, which the emperor accepted with a smile.

“How rude of me. I am Liam Fernandi de Belgaria. The people address me as Liam XV.”

“Please, call me Claudette.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the conductor hailed as the best in the empire waved his baton, and the orchestra sprung to life.

This would later come to be known as the Claudette incident.

One year later—

Claudette, now seventeen, became the fourth concubine of the emperor. Her name was changed to ‘Mary Claudette de Belgaria.’ Rumors spread that she was pregnant even during the wedding.

Before the emperor greeted his fifty-first birthday, the concubine bore the empire’s fourth successor. As the fourth child, she was given the name Marie Quatre Argentina de Belgaria. While she was officially a legitimate daughter of the emperor, the world at large saw her as a bastard child.

When the grand chamberlain reported the birth of the fourth child, it is said Liam XV asked, “Is his hair red?”

The first emperor of Belgaria bore the moniker L’Empereur Flamme (The Flame Emperor). He was a man of crimson hair and red eyes, with a particularly muscular body. He crushed the surrounding barbarian tribes with his greatsword and carved the very foundations of the empire.

Liam XV himself, while now frail, was tall with crimson hair and red eyes. His three sons shared his eye color, but they had inherited the blonde and brown hair of their mothers and could hardly be described as well-built. While Liam XV had grown distant from both military and political affairs, it pained his heart to see the first emperor’s blood grow thin.

“Your Majesty, the baby does indeed have red hair, but she is a girl,” the grand chamberlain responded with a reverent bow.

That was seemingly where Liam XV’s interest in the fourth princess came to an end.

It was an unbearable disgrace to the prominent aristocrats that he would choose a mere peasant as his mistress. If Claudette’s child was born a man, perhaps he would have been nipped in the bud. As a matter of fact, rumor had it the first prince’s feeble body was the result of poison.

Fortunately for her, Marie Quatre was born female and thus grew up peacefully to the age of thirteen. While a princess, she studied swordplay and politics; her eccentricities did stand out, but they never escalated beyond a joke in the courts. Yet a problem was to arise when the time came for her to enter the social world.

Marie Quatre possessed a striking beauty that exceeded even that of her mother.

Around that time, a honey-faced bard with a baritone was gaining attention and popularity in high society. The empress had invited said man to the imperial court, but alas—the moment he passed by Marie Quatre, the minstrel broke into song in praise of her beauty:

“Oh, what a wondrous day it is,

A sun as bright as thee.

Thy rousing flames ensnare my heart,

And steal my words from me.”

This enraged the empress. The bard was immediately chased from the court and banished from high society.

But her problems did not end there. The empress’s own son—Second Prince Alain Deux Latrielle de Belgaria—was a man whose wit was sharp as a knife. While he was only appointed to command the First Army, by the age of twenty-three he had gained de facto control over the entirety of the imperial armed forces in place of the elderly emperor and feeble first prince.

Latrielle offered a proposal to his withered father.

“If the beautiful princess takes command, it will raise troop morale. I propose we entrust her with the stagnant northern front.”

With his decision, it was clear Liam XV’s affection toward Claudette had fully waned.

Imperial year 850—

The old emperor sat on his throne, cold-smiling nobles lining both sides of the red carpet. Marie Quatre’s mother, Claudette, was nowhere to be seen.

Marie’s crimson hair flowed down her shoulders like a magnificent waterfall as she lowered her head.

“Long live the emperor.”

“......”

Liam XV returned only a nod. The grand chamberlain unfurled the decree and read it aloud in the name of the emperor.

Regardless of the fact she was still a minor, Marie Quatre was appointed to take command of the Beilschmidt border regiment.

Snickers broke out among the nobles. No one who knew the princess’s true mind was in attendance.

After the chamberlain stood down, the old emperor softly asked:

“...Do you desire a parting gift?”

It was customary to ask as such whenever a blood relative left the capital and, as per tradition, the expected response was, “Your majesty, your words alone are more than I deserve.” However, Marie Quatre puffed out her chest to the contrary.

“Please bestow upon me the sword of L’Empereur Flamme!” she declared.

The hall was quickly astir with outrage, the nobles directing blatant eyes of disgust in her direction. Words of disdain flickered through the air, backbiting her as a ‘panhandler’ and an ‘impudent wretch.’

The emperor, however, thought over her request.

“...The first emperor had seven swords. As you are my fourth child, I shall lend you his fourth sword. When you someday return to the capital, you are to return it to the treasury.”

The fourth treasured blade. The soldiers carted in a double-edged sword of absurd proportions—it was the Grand Tonnerre Quatre (The Emperor’s Thunder IV). The massive sword was made to complement the first emperor’s imposing height, putting it at 26 palms (192 cm) long.

While Marie Quatre was indeed on the tall side for a girl, this slight advantage was rendered meaningless before such a comical piece; to call the treasured sword bulky would be a severe understatement.

Vulgar sneers rained down from the nobles. Surely the princess would pathetically decline upon seeing she was unable to carry the sword—a great many could picture the sight.

The girl bowed. Gripping the large sword’s hilt in her right hand, she supported its sheathed body with her left.

“I will graciously... borrow it...!”

Marie Quatre braced her whole body. The marble floor creaked and grated below her as she raised the sword.

The laughs that had suffused the room just moments ago faded into silent awe.

The princess carried in hand a massive sword taller than she was.

“...I accept the burden of my appointment.”

She gave the old emperor another deep bow, rising to the cold expression of Second Prince Latrielle and the scornful glare of the empress.

One can only guess what crossed Marie Quatre’s head at the time. She turned on her heels and left the silenced throne room behind her.

✧ ✧ ✧

“—And that’s about it. How’s that for a story?”

The blizzard pummeled against the canopy. No sooner had Regis wrapped up his tale than did Altina intervene.

“Hold on a second.”

“Yes?”

“Just what part of that did the Arrow-Sparrow Princess nickname come from!?”

“Oh, that. The princess wears her massive sword on her waist, doesn’t she?”

“What’s strange about that? How else would she wear it? A sword that long would drag along the floor if she tried to wear it on her back.”

“So you’ve seen it? Does she wear it like that at Fort Sierck, too?”

“Ahem. Well, yes... I’ve definitely seen it before.”

“Then try picturing it. When the peasants and soldiers see small Marie Quatre wearing her massive sword at her hip, they liken her to a poor sparrow speared by an arrow.”

“What!?”

Altina froze with her eyes open wide.

“Up to that point, rumors had focused on her beauty alone. After all, she rarely appeared before the people so there were no other noteworthy anecdotes. But it looks like the new nickname has overshadowed all previous praise. I must admit, I’ve never actually seen her—I was away on the battlefield when this all started.”

“Grr...”

“Are you okay? Your shoulders are trembling... Here, I’ll give you some more of the blanket.”

“That’s not necessary! And I’m fine! What reason would I have not to be!?”

“Please keep it a secret from her. The last thing I’d want is for her to hate me as soon as I arrive.”

“At ease, soldier. She isn’t so immature as to hate someone over the mere mention of a rumor.”

Regis shrugged.

“I hope so... Right, are you hungry? You haven’t had lunch, have you?”

“What have you got?”

“I was planning to eat as I read, so I left myself some bread...”

He opened his leather bag and brushed aside his sword. It took some searching but eventually, out came a hard-baked roll of bread.

“...Though what I’d really like right now is a spot of warm milk.”

“So you’ll share some with me?”

“I’ve already told you my principles. But I won’t force you to eat if you don’t want to.”

“...I want some.”

Regis smiled, tore the roll in two and handed one half to Altina.

“Here.”

“Thank you... Smiles come in all sorts,” Altina muttered, staring at her half-loaf of bread.

“What are you talking about?” Regis swallowed down a bite before asking.

“...I’ve seen many smiles a lot colder than yours.”

“Hm? Where might that be?”

“The court.”

Altina stuck her teeth deep into the crust.

At that moment, the horse brayed. It was sharp, pressing, like a cry for help. The duo swiftly poked their heads out of the tarp, looking toward the driver’s seat.

“W-What is it...?”

“Over there!”

Altina pointed in front of the cart, beyond the rattling forelegs of the horse.

Black shadows in the snow. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dark. Five mouths, their sharp teeth stained with blood.

Regis felt as if a demon had seized his heart.

“...Wolves.”

“Gray wolves.”

“F-Fire... We need to throw a torch. Uh... Do you have a tinderbox!?”

“Calm down, Regis! If I had one, do you not think I would’ve mentioned it sooner?”

“Erk... Right.”

“Our horse is in danger unless we do something.”

“And we’re surely next in line... Gnn...!”

Regis withdrew into the covered wagon. He grabbed the sword he’d tossed aside, let out a sharp exhale and raced out the back of the cart.

Altina took a long hard look at him and sighed.

“So much for protecting the citizens...”

No matter what stuck-up words had escaped his mouth before, it was another story entirely once one’s life was on the line. Altina knew this all too well. So he’s just like the rest of them, she thought.

But Regis didn’t run away. Instead, he circled around in front of the cart.

He picked out the largest of the five gray wolves and directed his sword at it.

“Gnn...!!”

“W-What do you think you’re doing!? Gray wolves are vicious beasts! Even a knight would have trouble facing one head-on!”

“I know, but I don’t have any other options!”

Regis’s sword hand was likely not shaking from the cold alone. His stance was on the level of an amateur—no, even worse than that. His back was stooped, his hips weak; he looked as though he would keel over backward at any moment.

Even a child playing pretend would have adopted a more confident stance.

Altina held her head in her hands.

“Can you really win like that!?”

“Haha... I don’t mean to brag but, when it comes to sparring, I’ve never won once in my entire life.”

“You really aren’t bragging!”

“Altina, now’s your chance to escape. Take the horse and force it to run. You’ll both be wolf feed otherwise.”

“Are you serious!? You’re going to die!” Her yell approached a panicked shriek.

Regis smiled. It wasn’t an attempt to put her at ease, nor was it indicative of some miraculous trick he had up his sleeve. No, the smile had come to him naturally. He didn’t know why, either.

“That may be so... But to surrender my principles would be a fate worse than death.”

“...!?” Altina swallowed her breath.

Even Regis found it a mystery. Why was he smiling in the face of certain death? Was he deriding his own idiocy? No, that was far too pessimistic. With no other explanation, he tentatively accepted it as one last, inconsequential victory for holding true to his beliefs in a time of such desperation.

“I’m sure I... can buy you some time. A wolf will not carelessly attack a foe that stands his ground. It’ll discern the opponent’s strength first, and only approach once convinced of victory... H-Huh? Wait, are they approaching me already!?”

“Indeed. Your stance does look terribly weak.” Altina’s voice was now cheery for some reason, almost as if she was on the verge of a giggle.

The largest gray wolf approached. Its fang-lined mouth crept open, followed by a low growl.

While the wolf was still out of reach, Regis swung his sword to intimidate it.

“H-Hyah!!”

His body was dragged along with the weight of the sword. Its tip smashed into the ground; at the same time, a dull metallic thud sounded as the cross guard smacked into his own left knee.

“......!?”

“Thank you, Regis... You have accomplished your duty. You have saved Altina the coachman.”

“Huh?” He turned to a delighted voice.

Altina’s crimson eyes glistened as she began to drag something silver out from the covered wagon. Whatever it was, it let off a dazzling radiance even against the darkness of the blizzard.

Pushing aside wood and brick, the girl’s slender arm finally pulled out what was hidden beneath.

It rattled. It clanked. The gentle hum of drawn metal punctuated the cold air.

Something impossible was happening. Something incomprehensible was happening.

It was heavy, thick, long and huge.

It was massive. Far too massive. So oversized that, despite its tell-tale shape, it took a second for Regis to truly grasp what the object was supposed to be.

Its full length had just barely allowed it to sit in the wagon—a clump of metal surely too heavy for any human to swing. Yet despite its size, there wasn’t a blemish to be found on its well-honed blade.

Indeed, the sword’s edge reflected like a mirror.

“...Grand Tonnerre Quatre.” Regis’s lips trembled as his words carried past them.

Altina’s right hand hoisted the sword of conquerors.

The wind stirred up her robe, making it flow behind her like the mantle of a king. She combed aside her blazing red hair with her left hand.

“You’ve done more than enough, Regis. I can handle things from here.”

“What...!?”

“Does this sword look like an oversized arrow impaled in a sparrow? Or is it the legendary blade of an emperor!?”

Altina’s foot sank into the snow as she stepped forth, kicking hard against the ground beneath to press on.

The sword she held aloft wailed as it sliced through the wind.

“Hyaaaaaaaah!!”

It came down, the earth crumbling beneath it. The snow piled on the ground scattered in all directions. That was closer to the blast of a cannon than a sword strike, Regis thought. He swore he could still feel the tremors course through the ground. A wolf would be helpless against such force—that is, assuming the blow was even able to connect.

He was right. As the scattered snow cleared, it became apparent that the wolves had already retreated to a safe distance.

Altina took out the bread she had stuffed into her breast pocket and tossed it to the largest one.

“Here!”

The wind ferried it all the way over.

“You can have it! Go home!”

Wary as it was, the gray wolf sniffed the bread thrice before picking it up in its mouth and scurrying away. The rest followed, disappearing into the thick white fog of the flurry.

Regis slumped as the last remnants of strength left his knees. Altina thrust her greatsword into the ground and turned his way.

“Are you injured?”

“Hah... Well, my left knee hurts.”

“The one you hit with your own sword?”

“I was in a daze... I don’t quite remember.”

She gave a wry smile.

“Thank you, Alt— Wait, no. Princess Marie Quatre Argentina de Belgaria. Is that right, Your Highness...?”

“A bit late for that.”

“Hah... Talk about a sassy princess.” All he could do was sigh.

In an instant, an ear-to-ear grin had spread across Altina’s face.

“You really never noticed?”

“Well, I noticed your crimson hair and eyes. But Altina seemed a tad too long to be a nickname for Argentina...”

“It’s what my mother called me.”

“The princess was given the name Argentina after Claudette Barthélemy’s homeland. That land is lovingly referred to as Altina...”

“You knew that much, and yet you still didn’t notice?”

“It seemed so outlandish I immediately discarded the notion. The fourth princess is the commander of the fort I’m to be transferred to, and is of direct imperial descent. The very notion that she’d dress up as a cabman to greet some lowly officer on his demotion? I’m not nearly important enough for that.”

“I was walking on eggshells, thinking you’d found me out in the bookstore.”

“So that’s why the shopkeeper was acting so suspicious. Do you always do this sort of thing?”

“Dear God, no! If I did that, rumors would spread that the princess had lost her mind.”

“...I’m sure similar rumors are already going through town... There’s probably already some talk about the ‘Cab-Princess.’”

“Do you reckon it’s an improvement over the ‘Arrow-Sparrow Princess’?” She mulled it over in earnest.

Regis tilted his head.

“You said you don’t do this regularly... Then why do it for me? Do you have something against me?”

“Why would I have something against you?”

“No matter how you may sugarcoat it, I’ve committed blasphemy. My manners toward someone who had concealed their status aside, speaking out against the emperor is a heavy sin.”

“If you knew it was a crime, then why did you say such words?”

“Such conversations are almost as customary as everyday greetings among commoners.”

“Hmm.” Altina folded her arms and furrowed her brow. As any remaining tension dissipated, it became apparent their situation had only grown worse—the blizzard raged on, the sun was setting and the cold grew more severe.

“...Please don’t misunderstand. I have no resentment against you, nor do I intend to try you for treason.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I heard rumors you were a capable tactician.”

“You can’t be talking about me? I’m sure those rumors were embellished.”

“Possibly, but... I need the assistance of a scholar. Being talented isn’t enough; I needed to look into how he thinks and what he values.”

“And that’s why you dressed up as a coachman?”

“There are many things you wouldn’t say before royalty, are there not? I wanted to know your true feelings, Regis Aurick.”

“The only thing you learned today is that my enthusiasm toward military matters is almost nonexistent.”

“The same could be said about your skills with a blade.” Altina let out a playful laugh as Regis scratched his head in embarrassment.

All of a sudden, she cast her eyes to the distance.

“Ah... It looks like you guessed right.”

“About what?”

Altina listened intently. Regis strained to do the same, and after some time—

He could hear the sound of horse hooves kicking up the snow-fallen path. Her ears must be excellent to have heard that in the midst of conversation, Regis mused.

“...Ah, but isn’t there a chance they could be bandits or barbarians?”

“I can hear the clinking of metal armor, so that’s quite unlikely.”

“Y-You can hear that clearly?”

Just as she had predicted, around five mounted, lightly armored knights appeared through the blizzard. They dismounted their horses before her and kneeled.

“Are you all right, Princess!?” This call came from a bald, black-bearded man.

Altina nodded in response.

“Thank you for coming to get me. I’m fine... but our horse is injured.”

“I understand. Then my horse shall pull your wagon.”

“All right, then I shall leave it to you.”

With a change of horse, the wagon was as good as new. The injured one would be led behind them as they returned.

Two knights lifted Altina’s sword and brought it to the wagon. As Regis watched them briskly carry out their jobs, Altina approached. She held out a pale hand to the slumped-over soldier.

“Come on. It’s time to go.”

“Of course, erm, Princess?”

“Give it a rest already. It’s too late for you to start addressing me like that.”

“Ah, but I thought you were a cab driver back then...”

“Keep this up and you’ll dampen my mood. I said I would entrust you with the honor of calling me by my nickname. Are you going to make me a liar?”

“No, I...”

Didn’t you already lie by donning a disguise? he thought bitterly, but he couldn’t bring himself to say. Regis could still feel the cold sweat on his back. He’d thought he was in for it when he was demoted to the front lines, but perhaps he had come to a place far more outrageous than he had anticipated.

He looked once to the heavens before resting his fingers on the small hand presented to him.

“I’m usually pretty good at reading the mood, but... are you sure about this, Altina?”

“Of course!” her voice bounded, “Welcome to my border regiment, Regis Aurick. I’ll be working you to the bone!”