Chapter 3: Altina’s Determination

The day Altina proclaimed she would set her sights on the seat of the emperor, the situation took an unanticipated turn.

The ministry of military affairs issued an order to the fort requesting documents be properly filed and submitted. Regis could not help but see this as a precarious situation, one that threatened the continued existence of the regiment. But Jerome, the very cause of these worries, paid the instruction no mind at all.

“Hmph... If they’re going to raise a ruckus over the likes of paperwork, they can just protect this fort themselves. They have no unit daft enough to march to these northern lands.”

“Is that your reply? I can’t send back something so incendiary...”

“If you don’t like it, you do something about it.”

“Hah...”

The matter was entrusted to Regis.

Altina apologetically stopped him in the hall once she’d heard about it.

“When I came here three months ago, I knew it couldn’t go on like this. I did what I could.”

“But the situation hasn’t changed...”

“You think so? I brought you here, did I not? I even put in a special request to the ministry’s personnel department to do so.”

“I see. I finally understand why the ministry wouldn’t answer any questions I had about the situation at my new post.”

Perhaps he would have disputed his deployment had he known he would be the only administrative officer.

“Did I do something I shouldn’t have?” Altina asked worriedly.

“No, my reassignment was going to happen regardless, and there are plenty of worse places to be. This isn’t so bad... though me being the only administrative officer is a problem.”

“Is this too much for you to handle alone?”

“I don’t know yet. Well, I can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away. I’ll do what I can.”

And so, Regis became swamped with administrative busywork.

If Altina strove to be empress, Regis wanted to help her. After all, he himself embraced a desire to change the empire.

However, the reality of the situation proved quite similar to the snow piling up on the roof above—cold, heavy, and likely to bring the whole place crashing down if unattended to.

The work laid out before him wouldn’t wait.

As Regis spent his time surrounded by mountains of paperwork, he was unable to notice Altina’s decision.

✧ ✧ ✧

A week later, early morning—

When he had first seen it, Regis had thought his room so vast it must have been a mistake. But now it was crammed with mountains upon mountains of documents, leaving nowhere for him to even stand.

The desk that had once seemed disproportionately large for someone of his rank now felt cramped and uncomfortable.

He glared at the report in his hands.

“...I see. So that’s what’s happening.”

There were a number of points that caught his interest, but he continued his work indifferently for the time being. He placed the report on the mountain of papers he had already gone through.

The candle on the desk wavered in the wind, drawing the surrounding shadows into an eerie dance.

Oil lamps were more mainstream in the capital, but as the oil that fueled them was liquid, they were harder to transport than solid candles. This inevitably meant that candles were used more often than not near the border.

Regis reached for the next document.

It was then that the door let off a reserved tapping sound.

“Mn? Yes, who is it? The door’s not locked...”

“Good morning, Mr. Aurick.”

The door was opened by a black-haired woman with equally dark eyes, her skin as brown as a healthy tan. She wore the black uniform of a maid, and looked just a little older than Regis.

She entered the room following a polite curtsey. Regis made sure to bow in return.

“Good day, Elin. You’re early today.”

“I have to go to the marketplace today, so I thought I would stop by before that. I was worried I might wake you, but it seems you are an early riser, Mr. Aurick.”

“No... not exactly.”

He had barely gotten any sleep, having effectively pulled an all-nighter. It had been like this every day for the past week.

Elin was a maid who served the house of Margrave Beilschmidt. After the previous administrative officers were driven from the fort, the people in charge of the residence’s finances were apparently ordered to handle all the paperwork of the regiment.

While Elin hailed from a foreign country, she was an eager learner who studied Belgarian after arriving at the margrave’s residence. She could now fluently read and write the language.

Another person appeared beside her—

A youth dressed in a butler’s coat. He shared the same black hair, black eyes and tan skin. He carried a large wooden crate in his arms.

“Hey, I brought it.”

He crudely tossed the box on the floor and brushed away the wood splinters stuck to his clothing.

Elin bumped a prompt knuckle down on his head.

“C’mon now, Gösta. Mind your manners.”

“Oww... Don’t hit me, sis... Isn’t this supposed to be a soldier’s job? Why do we have to help out, anyway!? And this guy’s just a commoner, a fifth-grade admin officer, he’s not that— Oww!?”

He was hit again.

“What are you saying!? Your rudeness may bring Sir Jerome’s very character into question! My apologies, Mr. Aurick. Please don’t take his words to heart. My brother is still new to his trade.”

“I don’t particularly mind...”

“Sis, I’m already sixteen! I’m a full-fledged steward’s assistant! I’m not new to my—”

“Shut it, you!”

Gösta was the younger brother of the maid, Elin, and was currently assisting the margrave’s house’s steward with his duties. As a steward’s job covered so much ground, he seldom had the chance to leave the manor. Thus, it had become one of the boy’s duties to maintain contact with Regis.

Though, Regis couldn’t understand why Elin always accompanied him.

He browsed through the fresh paperwork brought in, carefully counting the amount of new tasks to do.

“Gösta hasn’t said anything out of place... I am neither your employer, nor am I a client,” Regis reservedly conceded.

“Don’t be silly. Being a military officer is already plenty important. You ensure the peace of our everyday lives, don’t you?”

“Sis, this guy’s administration. He’s got nothing to do with war.”

“Quit it, would you!”

“Haha... He’s right. I may be enlisted, but swords and spears are beyond me.”

Regis was abysmal when it came to receiving praise.

Despite that, Elin directed an impassioned glance in his direction.

“You are very modest, Mr. Aurick... I think being on the intellectual side is a wonderful trait.”

This was an era where strength was required to live. The majority of women fell under the mindset that a man’s worth was decided by his muscle, so was Elin a little strange? Or was flattery just a part of her job?

It must be the latter, thought Regis.

He felt ashamed to have misunderstood the intent of simple social courtesy. I should get back to work; no unnecessary thoughts, he decided as he got the papers in order.

“All right... I should be able to manage this much. I’ll have a good look over the details later. Thank you. I have some suggestions regarding my future work, so I wrote up a letter. Could you pass this to Mr. Maclen?”

“Certainly.”

Elin courteously accepted the letter. Beside her, Gösta muttered “What a pain,” only to be hit on the head yet again.

It was impossible for Regis to handle the entirety of the regiment’s paperwork on his own, so he continuously requested the assistance of the servants of the margrave’s estate. Among them was the steward, Maclen—a fifty-year-old veteran in taxation and trading documentation whose work in these fields was always error-free, which was a huge load off of Regis’s shoulders.

His work on military reports and supply requisition forms, on the other hand, was not quite so flawless. These papers relied on conventions unique to the military that, when not followed to a T, were quickly followed by letters of reprimand from the ministry. Only by checking and correcting them before they went out, often writing up the difficult portions himself, could Regis make these just barely presentable enough to avoid complaint.

“I’d like him to take care of these documents this week. They are a tad numerous, but there shouldn’t be too much writing required,” he said as he stacked the requested documents into the box.

Gösta had a blatantly reluctant look on his face. “This many? They’re quite a hassle, you know? Mr. Maclen still has to do his job at the manor!”

“And I’m very grateful for his assistance. Please think of it as helping out Sir Jerome.”

“H-Hmph! I don’t need you telling me that!” Gösta picked up the box as he spoke.

A wooden crate filled to the brim with papers was surely quite heavy, but he had physical prowess unbefitting his wiry frame—as expected of a butler.

Regis extinguished the candle on the desk, carefully making sure not to disturb the precarious mountains of documents as he made his way to the door and opened it.

“...I’ll see you to the carriage. I was just about to leave the room, anyway.”

While Gösta was silent, Elin offered a smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Aurick.”

“I’m sorry I can only see you off.”

Regis intended to procure some coffee at the dining hall.

Coffee was a drink about as cheap as wine or beer that even a commoner could stock up on—a miraculous drink that could keep him operating a while longer. Truth be told, he needed sleep far more, but there was little to be done when he had papers he needed to file by noon. The postal service that carried packages and letters to the capital only came by once every two weeks.

He walked out into the corridor. It was dark.

It wasn’t yet an hour where any significant light would come in through the windows, so a corridor of stone walls became almost an inky-black darkness. Any aristocrat’s manor in the capital would at least have candlesticks placed on the walls.

However, Regis had finally grown accustomed to feeling his way through the fort.

Their footsteps echoed.

“...Is your carriage at the south gate?”

“Yes. I would not want anyone to have to go to the trouble of opening the main gate.”

“Understandably.”

The large front gate, made so an army could pass, required a great many people to open and close, while the south gate on the opposite side could be operated with only two guards. It was only just barely large enough for a wagon to enter, but if one wanted to reach town quicker, the south gate was their best bet.

Jerome’s manor was situated in the town of Theonveil, where the streets were abundant with an ever-changing stream of people, goods and information. To manage such a territory from within the fort would have been near impossible.

✧ ✧ ✧

They left the central tower, made for the south gate and, just as they reached the back yard where the carriage was parked, they ran into another maid.

She had brown hair and hazel eyes, and wore a familiar rouge-colored maid gown. She had come out of the food storage with a jute bag on her handcart.

It was Clarisse.

“......”

She curtseyed expressionlessly. It never ceased to amaze Regis how silent and stone-faced she was when other people were around.

Gösta stood up straight with the box in his hands.

“Aah!? C-C-Clarisse! P-Pleasure! Good morning!”

“...Good morning.”

“W-What lovely weather we’re having today!”

Upon hearing that, Regis and Elin quizzically looked up.

The sky was just beginning to light up from the east, but was almost entirely clouded over.

“Certainly,” was all Clarisse replied. It seemed she didn’t have anything else to say.

“...Isn’t Gösta acting a little strange?” Regis whispered to Elin.

“...Oh, yes, it seems my brother has quite a thing for Clarisse.”

“...Huh?”

While Clarisse was a maid all the same, she was essentially the retainer of the imperial princess, giving her a sense of refinement absent from the servants in these outskirts. She was pretty enough, and it wasn’t strange that someone might find her fair hair and skin alluring. To add to that, her figure was shapely enough to make out over her apron.

And yet, when it came to Gösta, her expression was as unchanging as that of a doll. Her entire vocabulary seemed to consist of “yes,” “certainly,” and “really.”

This was a time where beautiful yet unsociable women carried a low reputation—just as one tended to keep distance from a fast but temperamental horse.

Elin leaked a sigh.

“...My brother’s tastes aren’t quite conventional. He’s a bit of a weirdo. It really is a bother.”

“...Yes, well, I’m of the mind that it’s best to respect his preferences.”

“Personally, if I were to marry someone, he’d have to be intellectual and kind, with a stable occupation that doesn’t risk them dying on the battlefield.”

“Hmm, I see... Having a stable job that doesn’t kill you is always a plus.” Regis nodded.

Elin gazed intently at him. There was a heated curiosity in her eyes.

What’s gotten into her? Regis wondered.

Clarisse politely lowered her head.

“I have work to attend to. I must take my leave.”

“Y-Yes, of course! I apologize for keeping you!”

“......”

Unfortunately for Gösta, the chances of Clarisse returning his affection seemed hopelessly slim.

She had only just cut off the conversation when she turned to Regis with a dazzling smile across her face. She was like a completely different person. He had to wonder if a forest spirit had possessed her.

“Good morning, Mr. Regis.”

“Eh? Yeah, morning.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“No... just seeing them off. There are still documents I need to draft up.”

“Is that so? Would you care for some coffee from the dining hall?”

“Coffee? Why, I was just about to ask for some...”

Regis was bewildered by Clarisse, who was acting kinder than she had ever been to him before.

“Ufufu, then that works out perfectly. We had a fresh order of coffee beans arrive this morning. Please, allow me to brew a delicious cup for you at once.”

She pointed toward the jute bag on her cart.

While he was thankful for the coffee... Gösta’s stare pricked him all over. Even Elin was now pouting, a scary expression brazenly spread across her face.

Regis dropped his brow, asking Clarisse in a lowered voice:

“...Hey, Miss, are you plotting something?”

“My, my, what ever could you be referring to?”

Clarisse’s glimmering smile remained so unchanged, he wondered if she was wearing a mask.

Gösta grit his teeth almost audibly. His arms carrying the documents trembled, the wooden crate letting off quiet grating sounds.

He was displeased, by all accounts.

Regis broke into a cold sweat.

“...Clarisse, could you please refrain from worsening my work conditions?”

“Oh? I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re definitely doing this on purpose.”

“Ufufufu...”

In the end, Gösta left with a resentful, “Don’t think you’ve won!” and raced into the carriage. Elin was smiling as she gave her goodbyes, but her eyes shone with a conflicting intensity.

The carriage left through the south gate. Regis saw it off as he had promised, however—

“Hah... Clarisse. Please quit it with the jokes. I won’t make any further progress with the paperwork without their cooperation.”

“Have you taken a liking to Ms. Elin?”

“Mn? What are you talking about? It’s Gösta who... Err, well, that’s not my business to speak on.”

“...She looked all too eager to work her wiles on you.”

“Hah?”

“No, it’s nothing. Mr. Regis, coffee alone isn’t enough to fill your stomach, is it? We received ham and cheese as well—would you care for some breakfast?”

“Oh, that sounds like a plan.”

“So you want to eat, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“That will require three round trips from the storehouse to the kitchen~♪”

“...Can’t say I didn’t see that coming... Good grief.”

✧ ✧ ✧

And so Regis helped Clarisse transport an army’s worth of food.

At a noble’s mansion, a team of maids would carry out all the housework. They would make breakfast before the sun rose, then spend their time cleaning and doing laundry before preparing to make dinner in the evenings.

However, the fort’s chores were done by soldiers on rotation, and the number of actual maids was low enough to count on two hands.

Among them, Clarisse, as the princess’s maid, seemed able to act with relative freedom.

While the other servants prepared breakfast for the senior officers, she cut and lined up ham and cheese for Regis alone.

Regis feasted on an early breakfast in a corner of the officers’ dining hall.

“...Am I causing you any trouble?”

“Why do you ask, Mr. Regis?”

“Normally, the officers’ dining hall should only be used by senior officers... I’m far from anything of the sort.”

“It’s a bit late for such concerns. How many times have you used this hall so far? Neither the princess nor the margrave have raised any complaints over your presence. In short, no one cares. Eat where you want.”

“I suppose... Even if that’s true, Ms. Clarisse, don’t you have your own job to do?”

To take time out of her busy morning to prepare breakfast for him—he didn’t know whether he should feel thankful or apologetic.

“My only real job is to look after the princess. I’m just helping out with everything else.”

As the imperial princess’s exclusive maid, her position was closer to an attendant than a housekeeper. Regis felt some sympathy.

He cut a cross in front of his chest before reaching for his first piece of cheese.

“...Sounds like you have it hard.”

“That’s a surprise. Aren’t you supposed to think, ‘Now that’s status for you, that bitch. To think she actually gets paid for this,’ as you spit at me?”

“I would never even think of doing something so terrible! But, well... there are quite a few people who think that way. That’s why I think it’s hard for those who earn such seemingly advantaged positions. Envy and jealousy are some of the most terrifying things imaginable.”

“......”

Clarisse looked at him skeptically.

I’m getting a lot of looks today. Do I have ink on my face? Regis inspected himself for anything that could have caught her interest. He abruptly looked down at the item in his hand.

“Mn? Did you want some cheese?”

“Gladly.”

Clarisse nimbly pinched the cheese straight from his hand and stuffed it into her mouth.

There had been plenty of pieces still on the plate.

Quit messing with me, thought Regis as he picked up another.

Both ham and cheese were processed in order to be stored, but regardless, they certainly tasted their best fresh.

The coffee was also better than he’d expected.

“Mr. Regis, have you considered it yet?” Clarisse asked.

“Hmm? Con-Considered what...?”

Altina immediately came to mind. What could he do to help her become empress? When he hadn’t the confidence to work as her tactician, she had told him, “I’ll put as much trust in you as you refuse to put in yourself.”

Those words weren’t the only reason he had accepted the role, but... was there nothing he could do for her? He had weighed this question over in his mind too many times to count.

“Yes, but consideration alone is meaningless. I know that, and yet...”

“So you plan to take action?”

“That... That’s... I refuse to accept it as little more than a fairy tale.”

“I know you don’t have much confidence in yourself, but to think you’d compare the very idea to a fairy tale...”

“It’s simply too big a change for me to fathom. We stand at the very crossroads of history.”

“It’s that important?”

“I have no doubt about it. Foreign powers will feel the impact—an event that will go down in ten thousand books.”

“So it’s going to be amazing.”

“Yeah, at least, I think it’s going to be that significant.”

“Your wedding...”

“Right, my— What!?”

Regis inadvertently sprung from his seat. Clarisse’s eyes narrowed.

“All I asked was, ‘Have you considered it yet?’ What were you talking about?”

“Erk... Damn...”

He had let his guard down, thinking of her as Altina’s trusted retainer. He would have to be more cautious not to say anything unnecessary.

“You don’t plan on getting married, Mr. Regis?”

“...Why, marriage... There’s no way that’ll ever happen.”

“You’re an adult at fifteen. Don’t most people get engaged before twenty?”

“Certainly, my older sister married at nineteen. ...Oh, I guess I’m going to be that old soon... You got me there.”

“You have an older sister?”

“Yeah, she married three years ago and settled in Rouenne. She’s already got two kids, apparently.”

“Apparently?”

“I haven’t seen them yet. She got pregnant right after she married, and it’d be too dangerous for her to travel such a great distance with a young child. I should have made the journey myself, but I’d just been employed as a staff officer in a noble’s army. There was no way I could take an extended holiday as an apprentice.”

“But nobles often travel with their armies. With your position, I thought perhaps you would’ve had a chance to meet. Rouenne isn’t far from the capital, after all.”

“Ah, you see... Marquis Thénezay was getting on in years, so he refrained from making any unnecessary excursions.”

“I see.”

“We still exchange letters, though. Ah, come to think of it, I promised to send her one when I arrived at the fort... This isn’t good.”

“You still haven’t sent one? It’s been nearly a month since you got here...”

“H-Haaalf a month, at best... I’ll send one today.”

“That’s probably a good idea. What sort of person is she, your elder sister?”

Hm. Regis spent a second reminiscing. His sister was a woman who gave off a composed, mature air whenever she sat and stayed quiet. The problem was that she only ever stayed quiet when she was fast asleep. At least, that was the impression he got as her brother.

“Well... I’d say she’s the type to take the initiative. Three years ago, my sister and I were living in the suburbs of the capital...”

“Back when you were a student, correct?”

“Yeah. My sister was working as a maid, commuting to an aristocrat’s estate. One day, a blacksmith from Rouenne came to the local marketplace to sell his pots and knives, so she went and married him.”

“A maid in the capital, and a blacksmith from Rouenne... I fail to see the connection.”

Clarisse seemed deeply intrigued. For perhaps the first time, she was speaking genuinely, without a trace of mockery.

“The madam sent my sister to buy a replacement for her sewing scissors that had worn down. That’s when she met him.”

“Even then, that just makes them customer and seller. Isn’t that usually where such relationships end?”

“Normally, yes... but my sister proposed on the spot.”

Clarisse’s eyes shot wide open. That was simply how extraordinary the action had been.

“That caught me off guard. And I’m sure the blacksmith must have been surprised as well... It’s only good sense for the man to be the one to suggest marriage, and even then, only after the two have become adequately acquainted.”

“Haha... He really was surprised.”

“But he didn’t turn her down, right?”

“At first, he suspected it was a joke or a scam...”

“I can’t blame him.”

“So, in order to prove her sincerity, she brought the blacksmith right back with her to the manor. The madam was terribly surprised as well.”

She was sent to buy sewing scissors, only to return with a blacksmith and groom.

“She must be quite the forward woman.”

“Yeah, once she sets her sights on something, she refuses to see anything else.”

“Like sister, like brother.”

“...What do you mean? I’m a man of common sense. ...Anyway, my sister married in Rouenne and the skilled blacksmith became my brother-in-law. I did make the trip for the wedding. He’s got a large workshop and five apprentices.”

“I see... She lucked out. Perhaps I should take a page out of her book.”

“Her method was a bit crude, but I doubt anyone would detest a genuine proclamation of affection.”

Clarisse nodded.

“...I love you... Please marry me, Mr. Regis,” she confessed in a fevered tone.

“Now I truly understand why my brother-in-law was so skeptical. But I can declare with conviction that this is little more than a joke.”

“You’re terrible. Just as I shook off my worldly common sense to make a serious proposition...”

“Maybe it really is weird for the woman to propose...”

Though Regis often found himself envious of his sister’s initiative.

“I think that depends on the person. In this case, wasn’t the real nonsensical part that you were proposed to, Mr. Regis?” Clarisse said with a virtuous smile.

“So you’re saying it’s absurd that someone might want to marry me? I may not have much confidence in the field, but when you put it like that...”

“I’m not such a bad choice—is that what you just thought?”

“...I think I’ll need some savings before I even consider it.” Regis raised the white flag with a sigh.

“I wonder why your sister didn’t leave even a tenth of her assertiveness to her younger brother,” Clarisse said as she made off with another slice of cheese.

“I couldn’t say...”

“Why don’t you try acting emphatically from time to time?”

“I get pretty heated up over my paperwork.”

“...Looks like the princess isn’t getting up. It’s about time for someone to go wake her.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall.

Come to think of it, Altina usually woke up early and ate her breakfast before the dining hall got crowded.

“Isn’t waking Altina up part of your job? You’re not thinking of sending me to the princess’s bedchambers, are you?”

“Oh, woe is me. As I have just received this unforeseen task, I am so terribly busy.”

“You said your other chores were just you ‘helping out’...”

“Fine. Then I’ll have to tell the senior officers that breakfast is late because I had to make a special serving for Mr. Regis.”

“You were plotting that from the start, weren’t you!?”

Complain as he may, Regis had no choice but to accept his loss. He stood from his seat, which earned him a satisfied nod from Clarisse.

“I’ve heard that only the kiss of a prince can wake a princess. Want to test it out?”

“Are you trying to get me sent to the gallows? Not to mention, I’m as common as commoners come.”

“Then, from outside the door—”

“Yeah, I’ll just call out from outside.”

“The proper wake-up call is ‘Allie-poo~♪’”

“That’s definitely lèse-majesté, no matter how you slice it! What do you have against me!?”

With a bitter glance at the lady happily waving him off, Regis left the dining hall behind him.

The third floor of the central tower.

The corridors were wider than those Regis had grown used to. The windows positioned much more frequently along the walls bathed the space in a warm light, only further punctuating the contrast to the dark, narrow passageways two floors below.

At the very end of the hall was a door set with intricate reliefs. This was Altina’s room.

Regis took a nervous breath, then knocked.

To his surprise, there was almost an immediate response.

“Ah, sorry, it looks like I overslept a bit. Actually, you came at just the right time—could you help me with this?”

Was she telling him to come in? Regis hesitated. If possible, he wanted to settle his business here without having to step into the room...

But sound carried well through these stone corridors, and Jerome’s quarters were also on the third floor.

If a heated discussion were to arise here over whether he should enter or not, rumor he had paid a visit to the princess’s bedroom would certainly spread. That was something he had to avoid at all costs.

“...Very well,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the door.

He stepped inside.

There was a large bed and a number of wardrobes.

With her back toward him, Altina lifted her voluminous crimson hair in her right hand.

Her skin, a dazzling white, was laid bare from her nape to halfway down her back.

The girl was in her undergarments, a corset—a piece of underwear commonly worn by noble ladies—hugging her midriff.

The back was threaded with lace that, when tied, tightened the corset like a shoe.

She had been in the midst of fastening it, her other hand pressed against her chest to stop the corset from bursting open.

Regis’s eyes leapt frantically between the shoulders, arms and thighs usually hidden under her dress.

“...!?”

Unable to comprehend what was happening, he stood stunned on the spot. Altina continued to speak with her back to him.

“I’m a bit concerned, this feels tighter every time I wear it. Do you think I’ve gained weight? I’d like to think it’s because I’m still growing but this is ridiculous, I could barely get it on. Could you tie this for me?”

“The c-corset!?”

“...Eh!?”

Altina finally realized the one who had come to wake her wasn’t her usual maid.

She frantically turned, her eyes wide with terror. It was as if she had been struck by lightning.

Regis, in a similar state of shock, was too overwhelmed to piece a coherent sentence together. Only the terms indecency, trespassing and lèse-majesté cycled through his head.

“Err... No, this is... I just... came to... I didn’t—!”

“Kyaaaaaaaah!!”

She let out an ear-piercing shriek.

So this is it. This is where my life ends.

In no time, the heavy sound of countless footsteps echoed through the corridor. The raised voices of countless men could be heard outside the door.

“What happened, Princess!?”

“An assassin!? We’ll ‘ave ‘im slaughtered!”

The only future he could see was one where he was torn to shreds by brawny soldiers. Impaled, stoned, burned at the stake... If possible, he wanted to go quickly and painlessly.

He only hoped their malice wouldn’t reach his older sister across the nation.

Altina spoke up.

“M-My apologies. I was just startled by a bug in my wardrobe! A big one!”

“A’ight! We’ll kill it!”

“You’ll do no such thing! I’m in the middle of changing—yes, right now—so if you dare come in, I’ll have you all for indecency, trespassing and lèse-majesté!”

“C-Changing... A’ight! We won’t come in!”

“Please allow us to stand guard outside!”

“It’s fine! I’m fine! This is just embarrassing, please return to your stations this instant!”

“...Yes, ma’am.”

“C-Changing, huh.”

“Let’s hurry back.”

“A’ight.”

Their slow footsteps gradually became more distant.

Regis had journeyed from shock to despair only for something even less comprehensible to happen, further paralyzing his ability to think. He could do nothing but stare at her blankly.

“...W-Why?”

“Idiot! Don’t look at me!”

“Ah, sorry.”

He quickly turned his back. His hand reached for the doorknob, then froze—perhaps some soldiers were still about.

“I went and screamed, but... thinking back, I was the one who asked for help without checking who was at the door,” Altina mumbled in self-reflection.

“It never occurred to me that you would be changing.”

“I’m sorry... Did you need me for something?”

“Ms. Clarisse told me to wake you.”

“Kuh... That little... She knows I often ask her to help me change...”

“You do?”

“From time to time. Like when I’m in a rush, or the corset is— Ah, it’s nothing! These are women’s secrets!”

“...Oh, right, you did say something about gaining weight...”

“Should I call back the guards?”

“Eeh!?”

“Erase everything you heard from your memory or face the consequences.”

“Ah, um— What are you talking about? I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Good!”

Altina wasn’t one to readily wield her authority over personal matters, but it seemed this matter was something else entirely—women’s secrets were indeed something to be feared.

Altina wrapped her arms around her figure in an attempt to conceal her chest and hips, her cheeks growing redder with every passing second.

“Why are you looking this way!?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m sorry! While we were talking, I just wound up...”

“You really entered unaware, correct!?”

“Swear to God.”

“You haven’t been to mass once since you came to this fort.”

“...I did give my passing regards to the priest one time.”

“To swear to someone you have such a loose connection to... Just turn around this instant. Comprendre?”

“Compris.”

Regis focused hard on the knotted grain of the wooden door. From behind, he could hear the sound of soft breathing and the rustling of fabric.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Soon the somewhat pained breaths disappeared, replaced by the swishes of frenzied dressing. The occasional clink of metal on metal told him she had equipped her arm and shoulder protectors, too.

“All right. You can look now.”

“Phew~”

Regis wiped the cold sweat from his temple.

Altina was wearing her usual armor over a dress.

And yet, Regis’s face still grew hot, the sight of her undergarments and dazzling white skin burned into his mind.

While her expression was a composed and dignified one, she quickly turned red to the ears.

“Urgh...”

“Wh-What is it, Altina? What’s wrong?”

“This is just getting stupid.”

“I didn’t peek on purpose. It was one of those so-called accidents.”

“I know that. If you had done so intentionally, my Grand Tonnerre Quatre would have cleaved you in twain!”

“That would surely be history’s least worthy use of the treasured sword. I humbly decline.”

“Hah... I thought I’d finally be able to have a serious consultation with you today. Now you’ve made it so I can barely look you in the eye.”

“Did you want to discuss something embarrassing?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“It seems this is something we’re both better off forgetting.”

“...I probably won’t forget this for as long as I live.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Once the blush eventually drained from her face, Altina decided that, while she was a little behind schedule, she would head for the dining hall. She made the first check outside before Regis stealthily made his exit.

How very adulterous, he thought.

The two were now finally walking down the corridor.

“Hey, what did you want to discuss? You don’t have to look me in the eye, just speak your mind.”

“All right... You saw how urgently they came to save me just then, right?”

“Hm? Oh, the soldiers?”

“They all treasure me. But only as a princess.”

“That much is clear.”

“As I told you that night, unless I obtain command rights, I can’t call myself a real commander.”

“Sad but true.”

Altina turned to face straight ahead. It was true she was too embarrassed to look at him, but that wasn’t her only reason for doing so. Her steadfast gaze was metaphoric of something greater—her unwavering course toward a particular goal.

“To be accepted as the commander of this border regiment, I need to be more trustworthy than the Black Knight Jerome. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah... Hey, what exactly are you planning to do? I can’t seem to shake this terrible premonition coming over me...”

She said nothing, and instead walked for a moment in thought.

“If I told you, you’d advise against it. So I won’t say.”

“Altina... Are you going to do something I’d object to? I must advise against that.”

“See? But it’ll definitely be effective. I mean, you already guaranteed it’d work.”

“Did I run my stupid mouth again?”

Without answering his question, Altina flashed him an undaunted smile. She no longer turned red when she looked at him.

✧ ✧ ✧

When they reached the dining hall, Clarisse was sitting in a chair, lounging around. A majority of the seats were empty. The place was practically vacant.

Regis double-checked the clock on the wall.

“It’s breakfast time... isn’t it?”

Unless there was a fault with its mechanism, that was definitely the case. The room would be packed full with officers under normal circumstances.

Clarisse rose from her chair and curtseyed.

“Good morning, Princess.”

“Yes, good morning, Clarisse. You sure pulled a fast one on me.”

“I heard that cute scream of yours... What happened? Please don’t spare me any details.”

“Erk... N-Nothing at all.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Altina quickly changed the subject. Clarisse could easily gain the upper hand in a war of words.

“Has everyone overslept today? Or are we the late ones?”

“In a certain sense, it’s the latter.”

“What happened?”

For a brief moment, Clarisse’s expression turned pensive. While only a subtle change, it was rare to see her hesitate in Altina’s presence.

“The recon party returned a moment ago.”

“Eh?”

“By recon party, you mean the scouts from the north?”

Altina gave a sharp nod in response to Regis’s query.

“All reconnaissance carried out at this fort is on enemy forces to the north. Our main duty is monitoring the situation of our neighboring countries and barbarians. We send recon parties into enemy countries at approximately one-month intervals...”

The Beilschmidt territory shared their northern border with the grand duchy of Varden.

Varden was a nation belonging to the Germanian Federation. It was constantly embroiled in civil war with some federation country or another, and had initiated hostilities with Jerome’s border regiment on a number of occasions.

Moreover, in the sea of trees that lay between the two countries were a number of barbarian settlements.

They varied in size from small tribes of a hundred or so to larger congregations of a thousand strong. Many in their numbers were the region’s aboriginal people, but tales had also spread of citizens abandoned by the empire and federation slipping into their midst.

Both were foes the border regiment needed to be cautious of, and, had the results of northern recon indeed come in, this was an important matter of which every last detail needed to be reported to the commander.

Altina tapered her lips.

“...Sir Jerome is the one receiving the report, isn’t he?”

“Yes. A soldier came here to inform him of the party’s return. Once he learned of the margrave’s absence, he headed for his bedchamber to retrieve him. The officers made for the plaza to hear the report, too.”

That soldier had not come to Altina. Her room was just down the corridor, and yet she had been bypassed entirely.

While a torrent of rage consumed her heart, Altina managed a composed expression.

“Breakfast can wait.”

She was off for the door before she had even finished.

Clarisse gave a deep bow behind her, Regis hot on her heels as she hastened to the plaza.

✧ ✧ ✧

There were a great many officers gathered before the front gate at the plaza, the rank-and-file soldiers forming a circle from which they observed at a distance.

Standing at the very center of the sphere of people were Jerome and five men.

The margrave stood straight with folded arms as he listened to the report. The men crouched before him wore cloaks and shouldered swords, giving the appearance of wanderers seeking adventure. Their faces were gaunt and unshaven, completely devoid of spirit aside from the faint glisten in each man’s eyes.

They were the recon party, the man speaking its apparent leader.

Beer and raisins were presented to honor their work, but they went untouched. These men had spent a harsh month-long journey in enemy territory for this report, and that alone had been their driving force.

“—and that is everything to report about the grand duchy of Varden.”

“Hmm... So they’re gathering soldiers.”

“So it would seem.”

“Are they going to attack again? Or is it another civil war... Mn?”

Jerome’s eyes flitted toward Altina as she parted the crowd to approach.

Regis, meanwhile, had to stop outside the flock. He very much wanted to avoid trudging behind her like a faithful attendant and inviting any unnecessary hostilities.

Those of the recon party made grim faces upon Altina’s arrival. Overlooking her as little more than a decoration, they had begun their report in her absence; but she was their commander by title, and was as high-born as they came. Rubbing her the wrong way could bring down imperial wrath.

The commanding officer stepped forward.

“Commander... let me start my report again—”

“That’s quite all right. Carry on where you left off. As long as Sir Jerome heard, I’m sure he’ll report the matter to me in detail.”

“Gaha! I’m reporting to you? Go back to the dining hall and chew on your ham.”

“...I’ll settle that matter with you after hearing the recon report,” she stated firmly.

Altina’s spirit did not waver in the face of Jerome’s intimidation. They were like two swords, scattering sparks as they clashed. Even the intrepid recon party members swallowed their breath.

The report continued on Altina’s urging.

“Ahem... Next is on the barbarians of the forest... There was a large-scale, inter-tribal war going on when we were conducting reconnaissance.”

This caught Jerome’s attention.

“Hohoh, among barbarians? Small skirmishes between tribes are common, but large-scale warfare is quite rare.”

“Yes. Furthermore, it seems at least three tribes have united to form a coalition.”

“Those barbarians, who only know how to kill and steal, have learned to speak politics? Are they really barbarians?”

“I would have to assume so from their equipment and how they fought. Among them was a conspicuously strong warrior who moved like a monkey, leaping from foe to foe and offering a swift end to each. Such strength alone was enough to change the tide of battle.”

“Hohoh...”

Jerome smiled bravely at the appearance of such a troublesome foe. Was this characteristic what had earned him his title as hero and the adoration of his soldiers?

Altina listened silently. If she interjected as freely as Jerome, the report would hardly progress. He asked a few questions, almost all about the barbarians, considerably interested in this monkey-like foe.

Once the report had come to its conclusion, Altina finally spoke up.

“...There were twelve of you when you set out.”

“Y-Yes.”

“How did they pass?”

“We lost three to barbarians, two to illness, one lost his footing on the mountains, and another strayed into a blizzard.”

“I see...”

Altina nodded and closed her eyes. A moment of silence for the dead.

Both the officers and soldiers radiating outward from her position quickly fell silent as all sound vanished from the fort.

Eventually, she opened her eyes.

“...Thank you for your service. Please have a good rest.”

“Yes... Your Highness... Snff...”

The five surviving men all shed tears as they were swept by waves of remembrance, looking back on their journey and their comrades lost. They gave a deep bow before receding into the crowd.

The surrounding soldiers welcomed them with uncontested praise and congratulation.

Information from reconnaissance operations was as valuable as a lantern shining through the darkness. Would the enemy army conserve their power while the snow fell, or would they take advantage of the blizzard to attack? The patrols, troop preparations—it would all be affected.

Jerome turned on his heel to return to the central tower.

“Hmph... Looks like a moment of silence is the one thing you’re good for, little lady.”

And while he scoffed—

“Hold it right there.” Altina was fearless in her response, one hand gliding to the longsword at her waist.

Regis’s eyes widened as he watched.

The shing of sliding metal. With no time for anyone to stop her, she had drawn her sword.

“Wha!?” cried Regis.

Unrest broke out among the crowd—the soldiers were evidently just as surprised. It was not long before the ring of people spread out away from her.

Altina was five steps from Jerome. For a hero like him, this was a gap that could be closed in an instant. Now that she had drawn her blade, it would be no surprise if she were killed.

And yet, she remained calm.

“You have no intention to recognize me, no matter the circumstances. Do you, Sir Jerome?”

“Hey... Little lady, if this is some kinda joke, I ain’t laughing.”

“I’m being serious. And you should be, too. You detest the fact there’s a royal running around calling herself commander, don’t you? Isn’t it about time we set the record straight?”

“Hmph, it’s already straight as an arrow. This regiment belongs to me.”

“A declaration made like the king of a Germanian nation. This regiment, its soldiers, its knights, and even you are a part of the Belgarian Imperial Army, and I have been appointed your commander.”

“Yeah, that may be true. But empty titles don’t move men, little lady. This isn’t the palace. In the heat of battle, no soldier would trust their life to a decoration piece.”

“I know that all too well. I’ve learned it on many an occasion in these past four months. That is precisely why I must prove my worthiness as commander.”

“Kukukuh... Did you send for the emperor’s permission for this?”

“Now who’s joking?”

Altina’s gaze drifted ever so slightly. Regis could feel her eyes rest on him momentarily.

Her expression had no traces of anxiety or doubt. On the contrary, it was clear and brimming with self-confidence—an undeniable sense of certainty also shone through the stillness with which she aimed her sword.

She returned her sights to the man standing before her.

“Jerome Jean de Beilschmidt, I challenge you to a duel!”

If this is a nightmare, someone please wake me up, Regis prayed.

Around a tenth of the soldiers were surprised, an equal amount absolutely dumbstruck. But most saw the situation as a joke, some among them even breaking out into laughter.

Even Jerome, the man who currently stood at the end of a sword, couldn’t take the situation seriously.

“Hey now, little lady...”

But following her next words, all traces of amusement faded from the spectators’ faces.

“Should I win, you must acknowledge my position at this fort. First, you will address me as your commander and follow my instructions. Second, you will serve under me as my general, and carry out your duties to the best of your ability. This is no joke, so do not take my words lightly. Continue to treat it as such, and I shall assume you have run from my challenge.”

With so much now on the line, Jerome could no longer brush the confrontation aside.

The faint grin faded from his face, an unbridled, intimidating aura now enveloping him.

The soldiers cowered at his sheer murderous air, some even trying to push back through the crowd in a vain effort to escape.

“Gnn... You’d better not regret this, little lady. I have no interest in holding back, not even if my opponent was the emperor himself.”

“I don’t doubt that. If you had any consideration for status, you would’ve been willing to obey me when I first arrived.”

“You talk as though you have this all figured out. Have you prepared a proxy to fight in your place? The only knight in this fort who would even stand a chance is Everard...”

He glanced over to see the knight captain in the crowd, confusion plastered all over his face.

While he was loyal to Jerome, he doted on Altina as if she were his daughter, granddaughter or even a goddess. If she asked him to be her proxy, he would no doubt be between a rock and a hard place.

Altina swiped her sword to the side.

“There will be no proxy. Your opponent is right here. I’ll say it again—if you don’t accept, I’ll see it as you running away!”

“Kukukuh... Very well. You’re no more than a has-been princess who lost the imperial power struggle. What a fitting end to your tale.”

Altina grimaced.

The Has-been Princess. Of her various nicknames, he had to pick one of the most offensive. It was more of an insult than a nickname.

“If I win, you’ll acknowledge me as commander?”

“Naturally. And not only in name, either. I’ll recognize you as a real commander. If you win, that is! ...And if I win, what’s in it for me? Duel or no duel, I’m already the commander of this regiment. Ah, how about you return the title to me?”

“You’re asking me to defy a direct imperial decree.”

“Can you?”

“Even if I passed your request to the throne directly, it would do little more than line the bin of Prince Latrielle.”

“Hmph... Then I have no motivation to accept your duel.”

Altina nodded. It seemed as though she had foreseen this part of their exchange.

“I thought you might say that. If you have nothing to gain, then this duel holds no merit for you. I’ve spent the past few days thinking of ways to resolve this issue. The result would be worthless should the soldiers believe you held back because you had nothing to gain.”

“Hah. Then what do you propose?”

“The commander-in-name will resign, and in turn bring new honor to the house of Beilschmidt.”

“Impossible.”

“I am, of course, referring to those high aristocrat generals who forced you from center stage. You haven’t forgotten about that, have you?”

Jerome grit his teeth.

“Little lady... Those words have placed you on dangerous ground. Should you make some ridiculous proposal, there will be no need for this duel. I’ll make sure, here and now, that no sound ever passes your lips again. Consider that before you speak. What are your terms?”

There was no way to ease the heavy atmosphere that bore down upon them. Would there be a way for Regis to stop the duel if he jumped in now? The answer was a resounding “no.” His actions would only result in the further deterioration of Altina’s reputation. A commander who needed a lowly fifth-grade administrative officer to stand up for her would be a complete laughingstock.

All he could do was watch the events unfold before him.

Even so, Regis was so overwhelmed by his urge to rush in that he didn’t know what to do.

A means to annul an imperial decree, take a woman out of military affairs, and raise Jerome’s status as a noble.

“...You have to stop this,” he tried to assert, but the words barely escaped the back of his throat.

Regardless, they had been swallowed by the surrounding clamor; his voice never reached her.

Altina directed the tip of her sword toward her opponent, his bloodshot eyes fixed on her like those of a wild beast, and made her declaration:

“If you win, you may take me as your wife.”

Jerome froze.

“...That... really isn’t a bad deal.”

“You see?”

In the case she married into another house, Altina would no longer be considered an imperial princess, which would make void the prince’s reason for appointing her commander in the first place.

And while the peerage of the Beilschmidt clan would not officially rise, marriage to a woman of imperial lineage would undoubtedly increase their prestige.

Objectively speaking, Jerome now had more than enough reason to take this duel seriously.

“Hmph... Little lady, you are nothing I look for in a woman. But the terms themselves are more than favorable. I’ll order you around like a slave.”

“It seems you’ve accepted my proposal.”

“You’re on. The thought of gambling with a life on the line sets my heart aflame. I accept this duel.”

Jerome smiled as though he had already won.

Altina sheathed her sword.

“Then the duel is on. But I’ll add this: Don’t come under any misapprehensions. If you enter this duel with some perverted ulterior motive, I’ll bash in that rotten head of yours.”

“Mind your own business, little lady. Isn’t it about time you start your bridal training?”

“Wha!?” Altina grit her teeth in anger.

It was a cheap provocation but an effective one, given that her resistance to such matters was surprisingly low.

The loud pop as Jerome cracked his knuckles brought her back to attention.

“When should we do this? I’m free right now.”

“Very funny. I’ve put so much at stake to avoid any excuses being made over the result; you think I’d be careless enough to duel you here and now? Think. Perhaps they’ll say you were still half asleep, that you were hampered by last night’s drinking, or that there was too great a difference in preparation.”

“Hmph...”

Even if Jerome wouldn’t admit it, a debatable outcome would create a serious rift between Altina’s supporters and his own. Leaving any room for excuses would lead to misfortune, no matter the result.

“Oui... Then noon, three days from now. As for the venue, this plaza should do,” he proposed.

“Is three days really enough?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“Understood. Then let me tell you, just so there are no misconceptions: There will be no surprises—”

“Don’t get in over your head! No matter what traps the little fourteen-year-old girl sets, you’ll never steal a victory from me! There’ll be no excuses for the result of our duel, and if anyone complains about the result, I’ll take it as a personal slight. I’ll snap the neck of any who dare.”

“...I see.”

“I’ll warn you again: No matter who I’m up against, I will never hold back in a duel. You should have your will notarized while you’re still able to breathe.”

With those words, Jerome made for the central tower, this time free of obstructions. A portion of the knights cried out, the ones who worshiped Altina as a goddess.

Altina, the subject of their fervent admiration, didn’t seem moved in the slightest.

“I don’t plan on letting any of my subordinates die.”

“...So you intend to win?” Regis called over once Jerome had left.

“My my, Regis, no one issues a duel with the intention to lose.”

“Stories where someone carelessly enters a hopeless duel for love or honor are surprisingly common... I never thought you were this foolish, Princess... I must have misread you completely. This is the worst.”

Regis felt he had aged a good ten years.

To go as far as to challenge the Hero of Erstein himself to a duel! he screamed internally, barely able to keep himself from passing out.

She looked at him incredulously.

“‘Foolish’ is a bit much. Is my ignorance of popular fiction really a cause for embarrassment? I didn’t know people wrote about unwinnable duels, so wh—”

“That’s not what I meant! I’m saying challenging the hero, Jerome, to a duel was foolish!!”

“I mean, there was no other option. I’ll win and show everyone who the strongest person in this fort really is. Martial arts alone are not what makes a commander, but being stronger than those around you is the simplest way to prove superiority—that’s what you said.”

“Another slip of the tongue...”

Regis rubbed his fingers against his temple. The growing headache was almost enough to make him faint.

Did she not understand the situation? Or did she have some kind of plan in mind? She was definitely giving off a clear air of confidence.

“It was no slip. I think it was fine advice, Regis.”

“...Do you honestly think you can duel him and win?”

Altina puffed out her chest and gave a proud declaration:

“Of course!”