Chapter 2: The Sister of a Bibliophage

It was early in the morning when the Beilschmidt border regiment departed from Fort Volks to answer the request for reinforcements, and residual heat from the battle mere hours ago still lingered in the air. While Regis was seated in a carriage, the commander, Altina, was riding a chestnut horse. Both its mane and tail were golden, and its left hind leg was white from the knee down—it was the burly, intelligent steed that Altina had been gifted on her last visit to the capital.

Now that I think about it, did she ever give it a name? Regis wondered.

Walking beside Altina was the black horse belonging to Jerome, the former commander of the border regiment who now led the five hundred horsemen of the Black Knight Brigade as knight captain. In their current expedition, these horsemen served as the vanguard. They were followed by one thousand foot soldiers, two thousand mercenaries, and five hundred personnel specialized in logistics. They had deliberately refrained from bringing artillery as they had a long journey ahead and speed was the priority, not to mention that their cannons wouldn’t stand a chance against High Britannia’s. That was what Regis had concluded.

At the center of the foot soldiers was a beautiful white box-shaped carriage drawn by four horses. It was large enough to accommodate six people, with each seat facing toward the middle—it was essentially a command room on wheels. At the moment, only Regis and Clarisse were inside.

They were heading to the warzone, but there was still plenty of imperial territory to cross. It was a drearily peaceful passage. Outside the window, the rocky cliffs of Fort Volks glistened under the morning light.

Clarisse ran her finger down the glass of the window; the cold air outside caused a white mist to form around wherever she touched. Glass was a luxury item, and for this reason the military tended to favor simple, canopied carriages. And yet, by a twist of fate, they were currently riding in a carriage that had six windows in total. The glass panels were fixed in place by wooden frames, which allowed them to be removed and stowed away during wartime. Not only would this prevent them from shattering, but it would allow orders and reports to carry through the openings. The cabman’s perch, however, was still outside.

This was the latest model of luxury carriage—one that a simple border regiment would never normally be able to afford. It had arrived the week before and was personally addressed to Regis from a rising noble in the south. That noble was Elenore Ailred Winn de Tiraso Laverde—the granddaughter of a duke and a burgeoning young woman who was for all intents and purposes the actual head of her house. She owned vast tracts of land, and was a wealthy merchant who made money from large-scale plantations and other specialty products native to her region.

The last time she and Regis had met was during a ceremony to commemorate the day Belgaria had been founded, at which she had very nearly caused her own demise. It was only thanks to Regis’s scheme that she had been saved, and as a show of appreciation, she had given the regiment financial support—as well as a new, luxurious carriage.

She’s very generous, that’s for sure... That was the impression that Regis got.

“This is my first time riding alone in a carriage with you, Mr. Regis,” Clarisse muttered, watching as Fort Volks gradually disappeared over the horizon.

“Yeah. We had Altina, Eric, and the guards with us last time.”

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly. “It’s a little embarrassing being alone with you...”

“Y-You think so?” Regis produced a book from his leather satchel, quickly using it to conceal his odd sense of elation. This earned him a rather surprised look from Clarisse.

“You’re going to read even in a situation like this, Mr. Regis?”

“...Yes. This is a book about the west, you see, and I figured this would be my last opportunity to read it.”

“Perhaps you’re right. After all, we’re going to war—there’s plenty we should look into before we arrive.”

“Well, I don’t really know how useful it would be when it comes to battle... It’s a supernatural thriller based on an old western legend.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s a story about a group of young boys and girls whose souls end up being swapped, all caused by an unknown— Oh, since we’re stuck here, why not give it a read? We have a long journey ahead of us.”

“If I may be so bold as to ask, did you eat breakfast this morning, Mr. Regis?”

“Me? No... I barely even slept, so it doesn’t really feel like morning to me.”

“Then how about you get some rest instead of reading?”

“I’m all right. When I’m really in need of sleep, I’m the sort who will automatically shut down. I’ve fallen asleep walking down the stairs before... Right, that one was particularly dangerous.”

“That doesn’t sound all right to me. What if you become unwell along the way? I’ll prepare something simple for you to eat, so at least have some breakfast.”

“Mn... When my stomach’s full, I usually get a strong urge to sleep.”

“In that case, you really should get some rest.”

“But I finally have some time to read my books... It feels like such a waste to sleep it away.”

“......” Clarisse fell silent, a smile still plastered across her face.

How peculiar, Regis thought. Her expression was so gentle, and yet for some reason he could feel a chill run down his spine.

Clarisse picked up the basket down by her feet, placed it on her lap, and opened the lid. There was bread, dried meat, and sliced fruit inside. Even as she passed them over, she did so without a word, all the while wearing that simple yet sickly-sweet smile. Ignoring her to continue reading his book was a move that required more courage than Regis could muster.

“I-In that case... I’ll eat a little.”

“Oh dear. If you don’t want to eat, then there’s no need to force yourself.”

“...I do want something to eat.”

“Fufufu. Is that so?”

Regis reached into the basket and pulled out a bread roll. The bread made in other countries was usually soft, but in Belgaria it always had an especially hard crust, so crisp that it would make a loud crackle when split. This unique texture was apparently due to the particular species of wheat and processing methods used in Belgaria.

“I’ve heard you can get the flour to make soft bread in the west,” Regis blurted out.

“Yes, it’s preferred by those in the imperial court.”

“I imagine that’s because most of the old nobles are from the west. I just hope the day comes when commoners can choose to have soft bread as well.”

“Oh, that sounds rather exciting.”

“...But for now, we should be thankful we have any bread to eat.”

“We had an excellent harvest last year, so the price of wheat has gone down. Let’s pray that it continues for another year.”

“You know, Professor Boutter once wrote a book called Southern Reform. According to his research, a bad harvest that leads to a thirty percent reduction in crop yield will apparently lead to a hundred thousand imperials dying of starvation. I do think it’s an exaggeration, but considering the worsening state of public order, I can’t just write it off as a joke.”

“I don’t know a thing about politics.”

“I’d say you’re on the more knowledgeable side, Ms. Clarisse.” Being able to immediately pick up on the political undertones of what Regis had said required a moderate grasp of politics. Having finished his bread, Regis bit into a piece of dried meat. It was nicely salted and fairly tasty. “Speaking of which, Ms. Clarisse—have you always been a maid in the imperial court?”

“Yes. My mother and my grandmother were maids as well.”

“What about your father?”

Clarisse stayed silent for a moment, and then her cheeks flushed again. “Oh my, would you like to meet him? We are due to pass through the capital, after all. But do you have that much time to spare? Oh, but Mr. Regis, I didn’t bring my good clothes... How embarrassing...”

“Err... Unfortunately, we do not plan on stopping at the capital.”

“Fufu, what a shame. My father is a commoner and a soldier; when he met my mother, he was a guard at the palace.”

“A spot of romance in the royal palace, eh?”

“When my mother caught my father trying to sneak some food that was due to be served at a banquet, she marched up to him in a huff and demanded that he marry her or else she’d call the other guards.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never read that one before.”

“Fufu. I’m only joking.”

“...Which part of that was a joke?”

“The parts from when I said: ‘It’s a little embarrassing being alone with you.’”

“So almost everything!?”

Clarisse started to giggle uncontrollably. She seemed to be laughing a lot more than usual today. “Mr. Regis, it’s quite amusing that you actually tolerate talking to me.”

“Do other people not?”

“Well... they get fed up, and usually angry.”

“There are plenty of people who can’t take a joke, but in your case, I’d say it’s because you tease too much.”

“Yes, that’s why I only tease you now.”

“Oh, I see... What about Altina?”

“A maid teasing a princess? I would never do something so impudent.”

“...Eh?” But it’s not impudent to hold and stroke her like a cat? ...Well, whatever.

Regis stifled a yawn; a nice meal and some friendly conversation had proven even more effective than counting sheep. Meanwhile, Clarisse began to sing soothingly.

“Fais dodo~♪ Fais dodo~♪”

It was a lullaby—one that a sister would sing to lull her little brother to sleep. By the time Regis realized it, things were already panning out exactly as Clarisse wanted: he had eaten breakfast and was moments away from falling fast asleep.

But that’s not so bad... Regis thought as he sank back into the seat of the shaky carriage. When he eventually woke up, the convoy had already stopped for its third break.

✧ ✧ ✧

Imperial Year 851, May 15th—

Led by Altina, the Beilschmidt border regiment marched through the rain, passing right by the imperial palace. There was little need for them to stop; both Second Prince Latrielle and the Empire’s First Army were absent, having already set off toward the west, and in an exceptionally rare display, the emperor himself had personally ordered their dispatch. Surely the civilians sensed that this war with High Britannia was completely unlike any of the skirmishes they were used to. Under such circumstances, it was imperative that the border regiment leave a good impression on the already uneasy citizens. They intended to demonstrate their haste by continuing west without stopping to enjoy the luxuries of the capital, but the army still required rest and replenishment. For this reason, they headed for the nearby city of Rouenne, setting up camp on the southern outskirts of town.

It was five in the afternoon, and preparations for supper were beginning here and there around camp. A large tent had been set up to be used as headquarters, the entrance of which was guarded by heavily armored foot soldiers. Regis was, as of yet, still rather unaccustomed to their gallant, rousing salutes. Inside the main tent, the simple lack of wind and rain did wonders to alleviate the biting cold.

Stripping away her damp outer robe, Altina stretched out like a cat. “Haah, that was tiring!”

“Splendid work, Princess,” Clarisse said, pouring the princess a cup of tea to accompany the biscuits she had already set out on a small platter.

“Thank you! Would you care for some tea, Regis?”

“It smells delightful; I would love some.”

“Two straight weeks on the road really is harsh. And if I’m finding things this bad on horseback, I’m sure the foot soldiers have it even worse.”

“Right... On such a long expedition, we’ll be run ragged before we’ve even reached the battlefield. We really must take care to time the confrontation just right.”

Regis sat down in a chair and spread a map over the conference table. All of these furnishings could easily be disassembled, and were being carted around in the same wagon as the tent. Meanwhile, Altina was busy removing the armor covering her chest and shoulders. A number of its straps were hard to reach, and so she required Clarisse’s assistance.

The three of them were the only ones present in the room.

“...Come to think of it, where’s Sir Jerome?” Regis asked.

“He said he’d be swinging his spear around till dinner. Given how long he’s had to sit still, I’m sure his body was just aching to move.”

“Ah. Did you not want to train as well?”

“Well, my sword is, err... a tad broken...”

Altina glanced toward the center of the tent, where her blade lay at rest in a large casket-like box. Regis silently nodded.

As the border regiment fought back the Grand Duchy of Varden’s vanguard, the Grand Tonnerre Quatre had been damaged in the midst of a battle against Franziska from the mercenary brigade Renard Pendu. As the symbol of the regiment, it had been brought on the expedition anyway, but was otherwise unusable in combat. In its place, Altina now carried a normal longsword, but she could not muster the motivation to bring it out into the rain for training. Her spirits had been down ever since she had lost her trusty blade.

Regis spread out a note beside the map, immediately catching Altina’s eye.

“What’s that?”

“Orders from General Latrielle. I received them not too long ago. He says that we must, and I quote, ‘Stay in Rouenne, and meet up with the Empire’s Seventh Army on the 16th.’”

“Oh, the Seventh Army is coming?”

“So it seems.”

The Seventh Army was primarily focused on the war on the eastern front. There, battles were often waged in the forests and mountains, so there were barely any cavalry among their ranks. At twenty thousand men strong, they were mainly composed of infantry soldiers.

“They’re going to join us?”

“Yeah... He said he wants me to act as a strategy officer. Lieutenant General Barguesonne is getting on in years, and his soldiers aren’t accustomed to fighting on the open plains.”

“Sir Barguesonne? Can’t say I’m too fond of him...”

“Oh really?”

“Well, we’ve met at court parties once or twice, and... y’know...” She let out a light sigh. Whether it stemmed from her gender or her lineage was hard to say, but he evidently held some form of prejudice against her. This wasn’t a rare find among Belgarian nobles.

“...We are only a few days from the battlefield. We should be able to cooperate well enough since we have a common foe.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Both in history and legend, there were plenty of cases one could point to where internal conflicts had caused an army to lose a crucial battle. Regis had a feeling that he would have to conduct himself carefully, so as to avoid becoming yet another example.

It was around this time that some sort of ruckus could be heard brewing outside the tent. “Pardon, sir!” a guard called from outside, “There is a civilian demanding an audience.”

“Really? What sort of civilian? We’ve already met the city’s representative...”

They had discussed matters with Rouenne’s mayor before setting up camp, and both the merchant and mercenary guilds had been present. Normally, they would expect a visit from the feudal lord as well, but the city was in the territory under the emperor’s direct control.

As Regis pondered who it could possibly be, he received a rather hesitant report.

“Well, about that... They’ve specifically asked to meet with you, Tactician.”

“Me? A merchant with a deal, perhaps? We have enough supplies, and it’s getting dark out... Tell them to leave a name and we’ll handle matters tomorrow.”

But no sooner had Regis given the order than a woman’s voice came from outside the tent. “Is that Reggie I hear!?”

“Huh!?”

“Get out here this instant, Reggie! Don’t act like you don’t know who I am! If you even try something like that, you’d best believe I’m going to turn out the lights!”

A familiar voice, paired with an abnormal threat. “D-Don’t tell me...”

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll start divulging every last bit of your embarrassing past! Still not coming? Right, so our story begins in the springtime during Reggie’s twelfth year. Just imagine—a boy who would be going to military academy the very next summer, and there he was—!”

“Waah!” Without a moment’s hesitation, Regis threw open the tent’s entrance flap and raced outside. “Wh-Why, if it isn’t my sister! What a pleasure to see you!”

“‘Sister’...? Regis’s sister?” Altina and Clarisse exchanged a look.

“He did say she married a blacksmith in Rouenne.”

✧ ✧ ✧

There was a single woman standing outside the tent, and despite being surrounded by four heavily armored soldiers, she didn’t seem the slightest bit shaken. She was wearing a formal, well-tailored dress and a scarf over her dark-greenish hair. As for whether or not she bore any resemblance to Regis, their similarities went no further than the color of their hair and the shape of their ears—in fact, the neighborhood they had grown up in had come to know them as “the siblings as similar as a tigress and turtle.”

This former tigress, now the wife of a blacksmith, smiled from ear to ear as she waved both hands. “Oh my, Reggie! It really is you! What a welcome surprise!”

Regis immediately slumped over, feeling as though the full weight of the fifteen-day journey had been placed on his shoulders all at once. “Really now... We’d be in a right mess if you’d had the wrong guy.”

“Ahahaha! There’s no way I’d ever mistake your voice, Reggie! It’s your fault for taking so long.”

“Err... This is the regiment’s main camp... where the most important member of our unit is protected by four thousand soldiers. I’m pretty certain it’s not the kind of place a civilian can just prance into willy-nilly...”

“Then you should have come to us! Why, when I heard that Lady Marie Quatre’s army was coming to Rouenne and you’d be with them, I waited and waited for you to drop by. And then, guess what? I don’t see head nor tail of you! So I had no choice but to come and see you myself. So, how are you going to make this up to me!?”

“This is my fault!?”

“Well of course.”

“Hah... You’re right; it is my fault. Ah, Princess!?”

Having overheard the ruckus outside, Altina marched through the tent flaps. She had only just taken off her armor, leaving her in her loungewear. “What are you doing, Regis?”

“M-My apologies! I’ll be back inside at once.”

“Idiot,” she muttered, before turning to Regis’s sister. “If you’re family to our strategist, then consider yourself our guest.”

“I wouldn’t really— Mmph!?” Regis went to speak, but his sister quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, then pushed him away and closed in on Altina.

“Kyaah!? Marie Quatre!? In the flesh!? Oh, you’ve done so, so much for our little Reggie here!”

What are the guards doing!? Regis screamed on the inside, though he couldn’t blame them for being so taken aback. His sister had the bold temperament of a mother raised in the countryside, and now that the princess was treating her as a guest, the soldiers on guard made no further attempts to detain her.

Altina casually beckoned her into the tent. “Please come in, Sister. I’d love to hear everything you’ve got to say.”

“Oh, dear me, then I suppose I’ll just go right ahead.”

“Especially when it comes to Regis’s past escapades.”

“But of course! I have enough stories to last us till morning!”

“Stop!” Regis yelled, but his protest fell on deaf ears. He considered running away, but knew deep down that doing so would make the whole ordeal all the more terrifying. So Regis reluctantly tagged along, having no other choice in the matter.

Inside the tent, Clarisse prepared enough teacups for everyone, placing them on the table without a word. Now that there was an unfamiliar person around, she had reverted to being like a clockwork doll. Without even the slightest trace of a smile on her face, she retreated to the wall the moment she had finished her business.

As the remaining three sat around the conference table, Regis’s sister reverently lowered her head. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Marie Quatre! I’m Vanessa Smith, Regis’s older sister. I can’t thank you enough for taking my little brother under your wing.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. And there’s no need to worry—Regis is always saving me.”

Vanessa immediately waved her hand, dismissing the notion entirely. “Oh, no need to prop him up! ‘Saving’ is a pretty strong word.”

“But it’s true.”

“I pray to the Goddess every single day, showing her my appreciation that the military hasn’t yet sacked little Reggie here.”

“I’m just as perplexed as you are,” Regis interjected. “Back at the academy, I never actually thought I’d be able to earn a salary in the army.”

The siblings’ gazes grew distant as they reminisced over a sour past, but Altina simply shrugged. “I’ve got to admit, he’s no good when it comes to swords or horses, but it takes more than that to run an army. I trust in Regis as much as he trusts in me.”

“...We did make a promise.”

As Regis and Altina exchanged a pleasant smile, Vanessa looked as astonished as a fish that had just been hoisted onto dry land. “To think... someone actually places their trust in our Reggie...”

“Sis? I’m not going to be a child forever.”

“Impossible! This is the kid who very nearly starved to death because he spent three straight days and nights reading in the study!”

“Hahaha... That part hasn’t changed, but...”

“And when nudity was so much as mentioned in a book, he’d run off and hide, or continue reading with one eye closed like that actually made a difference!”

“I-I-I did no such thing!”

“He even called himself ‘the Legendary—’”

“Riiiight, so, you said you were here to see me! Did you come by to make sure I was doing okay? Well, I was doing just fine! Yes—was!” Regis made sure to emphasize that he was speaking in the past tense. Right now, he was practically exhausted.

Vanessa made an expression suggesting she had fallen into deep thought, before eventually clapping her hands together. “Right, right! Seeing Reggie was only partly the reason I came here.”

“So you’re here for something else?”

Vanessa’s eyes flitted around the tent. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

Vanessa raised and then lowered her hands, trying to draw some sort of shape in the air, before eventually saying, “The sword! Marie Quatre’s sword! I hear it got seriously mangled.”

“Erk!” Altina let out a sudden groan and hung her head, one hand clasping her chest.

That reaction was more than enough for Vanessa to understand. “Oh, dear me, Marie Quatre... did it really break?” she inquired.

“Yes... somewhat.”

“Like a ‘snap!’ Just like that?”

“I-It’s not that bad! Just a bit, uh... At the hilt... It’s sort of...” Altina attempted to draw a shape as well, but her attempts amounted to little more than vague gestures. Even so, Vanessa responded with heated fervor.

“So the sword is bent at the hilt? In that case...” Her expression had undergone a complete change from just moments ago when she had been deep in thought. This was no longer a sister teasing her brother; she now had the aura of a merchant engaging in negotiations.

Given Belgaria’s strong patriarchal tendencies, a woman was seldom involved in her husband’s occupation—especially when her husband was a skilled craftsman. However, that was only true for normal women, and this hardy sister was brimming with far too much spontaneity to be bound by societal norms.

“Where did you learn about the princess’s sword?” Regis asked her.

“Secret.”

“...I see. On a side note, and this has absolutely nothing to do with what we were talking about, but... I happen to be the person in charge of this regiment’s finances. Any business negotiations will have to go through me.”

Vanessa’s eyes shot open wide, and she took an unsteady step back. “I never knew I’d raised a kid who would threaten his own sister!”

“Don’t just play the sister card when it’s convenient to you. If you have something to say about the Grand Tonnerre Quatre, I’ll hear you out. But before that, where did you find out that it was broken? I’d really like to know.”

“...Well, since it’s a request from my dear brother... I guess it doesn’t really matter if I tell you. But don’t expect any big surprises, okay? The story’s gotten pretty famous among mercenaries. That’s how it reached this town, at least.”

“I see, so that’s what happened. You reckon Renard Pendu spread that rumor themselves?” Regis asked.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” his sister replied.

Altina turned to Regis, the chagrin visible on her face: “Khh... But it’s none of their business!”

“It was bound to happen,” Regis said frankly. “Mercenaries have to do everything they can to get their name out there, as this allows them to secure more lucrative contracts.”

“In that case, we should’ve hired them ourselves.”

“That wouldn’t have been feasible; they’re based in Germania, and even if we rule out that Franziska girl, hiring the entirety of Renard Pendu definitely isn’t within our budget. Mercenary King Gilbert alone is known as the most expensive man on the continent.”

“Grr...”

As this exchange went on, Vanessa stood up from her seat and approached the coffin-like case in the center of the tent. It seemed that she had already figured things out. “It’s in here, isn’t it, Reggie?”

“...Princess, would it be all right if we show her?”

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to do with it, but go ahead. It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose by showing you.”

“Thank you so much, Marie Quatre!” Vanessa responded, placing her hands together in a show of gratitude before opening the box. Regis had considered offering to help her as its lid was heavy and considerably sturdy, but this had quickly proven unnecessary. He was beginning to feel that she had gotten even stronger in the three years since she had been married.

“Oh dear, it really is bent!”

“Yes, the rumors were true. Satisfied?” Altina asked with a sigh, only for Vanessa to shake her head.

“I have yet to make my proposition, O noble Marie Quatre! For you see, this town houses the best blacksmith in the empire—nay, the continent! The world, even! Won’t you consider entrusting your sword to him!?”

“Hm? A blacksmith?”

“Yes! My husband, Enzo Bardot Smith, owns a large workshop in Rouenne.”

“Right...” Altina hesitantly turned her eyes to the sword. “Come to think of it, I do remember hearing about that...”

Regis had been expecting this, and so wasn’t the least bit surprised. This wasn’t something he could decide for Altina, though; all he could do was patiently await her response.

“So you’re telling me... he can repair my sword?” she asked, making sure she had understood.

“Of course he can!” Vanessa declared, firmly nodding her head. But given how abruptly the proposition had come up, Altina seemed hesitant to make a decision.

“Regis, what do you think?”

“Let’s see... Under normal circumstances, the Empire’s treasured swords would be entrusted to a craftsman of considerable merit. But unfortunately, the highly skilled ones are all in the pocket of some high noble or another.”

While Altina had gained noble supporters who could presumably introduce her to an accomplished blacksmith, none had any connections to workshops situated near Fort Volks on the furthest border. Using a blacksmith located anywhere else would require them to correspond via letters. Then, assuming the response was positive, they would have to transport the sword over to the workshop for repairs, only to continue negotiations once it was done. The whole process would take months.

That said, this level of precaution was more than necessary—a treasured sword handed down from the days of the first emperor held tremendous historic value, so shoddy repairs were unforgivable. But above all else, this was a sword that Altina entrusted her life to. Regis had considered it boorish for him to weigh in on such a personal matter unprompted, but now that Altina was asking for his advice, he could say precisely what was on his mind.

“...I think that you should have the sword repaired as soon as possible. However, Princess, you must be the one to decide who you can entrust the task to. Not only would inadequate repairs put your life at risk on the battlefield, but you would have to shoulder the blame if something happened to His Majesty’s heirloom.”

“So you’re saying the problem is whether or not I can trust him... and that my fate is on the line here.”

“That’s right. Please ignore the fact that he is my brother-in-law and consider things objectively.”

“Well, I won’t know whether I can trust him unless I meet him! Regis, we won’t be leaving Rouenne until noon tomorrow, right?”

“If all goes according to plan.”

They would be meeting the Seventh Army at noon—that much was certain. The only variable was their enemy. Regis had sent out numerous scouts to gather information, as the regiment would need to adjust their preparations depending on how quickly the enemy was advancing. That being said, the High Britannian Army was also transporting cannons, so it was hard to believe that they would be able to travel much faster than expected.

Altina rose from her seat. “Then we’ll go there tonight! Come on, let’s get a move on!”

“Eeh!?” Vanessa was the only one to cry out in surprise. Regis merely sighed, having already predicted exactly what the princess would say.

“Princess, wouldn’t you usually call the blacksmith to you?”

“What a waste of time! If we’re going to ask him to work on it, we’ll have to take it to him anyway.”

“Then at least allow the soldiers to carry it for you.”

“Why? The least I can do is carry my own sword. In fact, it’d be shameful to have my subordinates carry it instead.”

“...I suppose.”

Bringing along carriers and enough guards to protect them would make for a sizable entourage, and putting on too much of a show would garner unnecessary attention. The last time Altina had come to the capital, they had purposely used a stagecoach to make her appear modest and frugal. As having her walk around accompanied by an excessive number of soldiers would only undermine that image, it was something that had to be avoided at all costs.

“...Very well, then,” Regis conceded. “But at the very least, bring along some guards.”

“Will do!”

“It’s at times like these that I wish Eric were here... He’s so unimposing; he’d be the perfect guard to accompany you into town.”

“You’re not wrong there.”

“Well, there’s no point bemoaning what happened. Ah, no, that’s a very rude way to put it... I suppose Sir Abidal-Evra did quite a good job last time, so how about we ask him to accompany us?”

“I’ll leave those arrangements to you. I’m going to wrap the sword in cloth; it’ll be a pain to carry around if we keep it in that box.”

That was when Clarisse, who had been silently standing by the wall this entire time, quietly called out, “Princess, shall I prepare your clothes?”

“Mn? Oh, you’re right; I can’t really go out dressed like this. I’m sorry to ask when you’ve only just removed it, but could you help me put my armor on?”

“Very well.”

Vanessa froze up, at a complete loss for words.

“What’s wrong, Sis? It’s rare to see you space out.”

“M-Marie Quatre’s coming to our place!?”

“Is that not what you were hoping for when you came here?”

“I mean, people normally call the blacksmith to them! Nobles even send for one over something as small as fixing a pair of scissors!”

“Well, I can’t argue there. Our princess is a bit of a strange one.”

“Ah, so that’s why you haven’t been sacked yet, Reggie!”

“...Yes, perhaps.” Rather than admit that he was Altina’s strategist, or that he was the regiment’s only administrative officer, Regis found it much easier to state that his continued employment was simply down to his quirky commander. No matter the circumstances, he always struggled when it came to self-confidence.

“I’ll be back soon.”

As Regis walked out into the drizzling rain, the four guards standing outside saw him off with crisp salutes.

✧ ✧ ✧

Rouenne was situated half a day’s walk west from the imperial capital of Verseilles. It was close enough that one could visit on a day trip by carriage, and felt somewhat more like an extension of the capital than a separate city. In this regard, some considered it a detached suburb, as while the capital was full of mansions owned by the rich and stores representing the Empire, Rouenne was a city of commoners dominated by housing complexes and street stalls.

The sun was beginning to set, and the rain meant that most stalls on the main road had packed up for the day. Altina paid no mind to the weather, however—she was wearing her usual clothes, covered only by the few pieces of armor she had deemed necessary. The treasured sword was slung over her shoulder—a blade so massive that it prevented her from wearing a standard raincoat on top, as one would usually do to keep their weapon dry.

Abidal-Evra and his ten-or-so men were also only wearing light armor, having reasoned that it would be unacceptable for the princess to brave the rain alone. Regis and Vanessa, on the other hand, had opted to wear rain gear, while Clarisse had stayed behind. Their group was composed of as few people as possible, allowing them to proceed down the main road without drawing too much attention to themselves.

“It looks like there are a few stalls that are still open, but they have barely any customers,” Altina said, curiously taking in her surroundings.

“Yes, the city streets are normally busy late into the night, but... everyone’s scared. It’s been over a decade since an enemy army has come this deep into our territory,” Vanessa explained. She was walking beside Altina, acting as her guide through the city.

There was no denying that the Belgarian Empire was strong. War was common, and usually took place alongside negotiations before the Empire ultimately crushed their opposition with overwhelming might. For this reason, they were generally the ones venturing out into foreign lands.

There were times where Belgarian-occupied territory was taken back by other nations, but it was rare for invaders to come so close to the capital—so rare, in fact, that its neighboring cities had seldom had to pay attention to the movements of enemy armies at all.

Regis shrugged. “It’s true that we’ve been invaded, but our enemy is still over 50 lieue (222 km) away. Even by carriage, it would take around three days to cover that kind of distance. We’ve mobilized close to one hundred thousand soldiers to fight them off; I don’t think they’ll make it to Rouenne.”

“Yeah, hopefully not.” Vanessa returned a shrug. Upon noticing that the gestures they had made were almost identical, Altina couldn’t help but giggle to herself.

Before long, they had arrived at a workshop facing the main road. “Well, it certainly looks the part!” Altina exclaimed, appearing to have taken a liking to its storefront.

The building was made of brick, and a column of black smoke rose from the hefty smokestack atop its triangular roof; most standard households used but a single fireplace and so only had small chimneys, but the intense flames used in the workshop necessitated something much larger. The main entrance was a thick iron door—an uncommon sight, even for a workshop—above which hung a skillfully crafted metal sign reading “Le forgeron d’Enzo Bardot Smith.” The clatter of metal being struck could be heard on the other side, but rather than leading them in through the main entrance, Vanessa guided them to a side door.

“Thank you so much for making the trek, Lady Marie Quatre. We may not have much space to offer, but please, make yourself at home.”

“Oh, is this where you bring customers?”

“No, this is our humble abode. The workshop is in no state to welcome royalty, so...”

“I’m not asking for a leather chair or a fancy glass table. Are you telling me that your workshop is so disorganized that I can’t even look inside?”

“Oh, no, not at all! ...But we may have to tidy up a little to accommodate so many people.”

“In that case, my guards shall wait outside. Our soldiers are not so feeble as to be bothered by a spot of rain.”

Abidal-Evra and his men saluted behind her and, moments later, were standing in a horizontal line outside the smithy, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. Regis noticed a curious child poke his head out the window to see what was going on, only to be hurriedly pulled back in by his mother.

We really weren’t supposed to stand out... he sighed.

Altina turned her gaze to the workshop. “I want to repair the emperor’s sword. If you mean to say that there is someone in there who is capable of doing that, I shall wait here until he is ready to see me. After all, I can’t make a decision unless I meet him.”

“N-No way! I can’t have a princess waiting in the rain!”

“I need a sword repaired, and you have a blacksmith here. Then is it not common courtesy for me to pay my respects?”

Because smithing was so labor-intensive, it was a job expected to be handled by commoners. However, Belgaria had been at war for so long that skilled smiths had become very valuable assets. Those who established enough of a reputation for themselves had a chance of being invited to a noble’s territory; here they would receive various benefits, such as exemption from tax or their own free workshop. Exceptionally well-made equipment was treated like fine art, consequently allowing it to be traded for exorbitant sums of money.

Enzo, however, had no major achievements, so his reputation was not very impressive at all. Vanessa’s confusion was understandable.

But Altina refused to move from the rain. “I can’t bring about change on my own. That’s why, whenever I think I need someone, I do everything I can to get them on my side. It may come to pass that I’ve misplaced my expectations, but having to sit and wait, not knowing for sure... That’s just as bad as being locked in a prison cell.”

Regis removed his hood, causing the water that had pooled over his head to run down his back. “...Sis, how about you just speak to Enzo? When the princess gets like this, not even a horse would be able to drag her away.”

“Hold on, Regis! You’re making me sound as stubborn as a plow ox.”

“Even an ox would move if offered the right bait.”

“Right. One moment, please!” Vanessa cried, before racing into the house. She had intended to use her brother’s connections to secure work negotiations, but had never expected to be given the chance to make a sales pitch to the princess herself. And now that very same princess had endured the rain to visit their humble workshop.

Altina’s assertiveness never fails to amaze me, Regis thought.

A few moments later, the sound of metal being struck stopped, and a commotion could be heard coming from inside. Then, the iron door that was the workshop’s main entrance swung open. Kneeling by the doorway, his head bowed in reverence, was a topless bear of a man who had a piece of cloth wrapped around his waist. His hair was cut short, his face was clean-shaven, and while he appeared to be somewhat overweight, it was clear that there was a great deal of muscle beneath his plump exterior. Regis hadn’t seen the man since his sister’s wedding, making this their first encounter in three years.

Vanessa was behind the man, standing to his right. “P-Please, come on in!” she stammered.

“Thank you.” Altina boldly marched in, showing no reservations despite this being the first time she had come here. Regis wondered whether he should attribute this fearlessness to her status as a royal.

The workshop was considerably vast; it was comparable in size to the senior officers’ dining hall at Fort Volks, which was large enough to accommodate forty people at once. However, the various tools scattered about and the furnace in the back used to heat metal made the place feel a lot smaller, and despite it only being May, the inside was hot enough to make one instantly break out in a sweat.

There were about six young men in the workshop, all of whom wore thick aprons over their shirts. With their hammers and tongs still in hand, they stared nervously at the newcomers.

Standing next to Altina, Regis formed a sociable smile. “It’s been a while, brother-in-law. Princess, this is the blacksmith, Enzo Bardot Smith.”

Enzo’s lips bent into a strange, crooked shape as he was introduced. Perhaps it was intended to be a smile. Regis had purposely emphasized their familial relation to ease the mood as much as possible, but Altina remained the epitome of seriousness—so much so that she actually looked enraged.

In stark contrast, Enzo was frozen in place, his expression so anxious that one might assume he was unwell. “I-It is an honor to have you here today.”

“I hear you can fix my treasured sword.”

“...Might I see it?”

“Of course.”

As it turned out, one workbench wasn’t enough to hold the blade. On Enzo’s orders, his apprentices immediately pushed two together, allowing Altina to place the Grand Tonnerre Quatre on top. She had wrapped it in white cloth to conceal the bend and protect the sword from the rain, but now started to unravel it. Enzo and his apprentices gulped, completely transfixed. By the time Altina had completely removed the cloth, their eyes were wide open. Some even sighed longingly.

“How does it look?” Altina asked.

“...May I touch it?”

The moment the sword was in front of him, Enzo’s expression changed from that of a sick patient to the inquisitive glare of a craftsman. Altina nodded in response to his question, at which point Enzo delicately grabbed the sword by its scabbard and raised it into the air.

This time, it was Altina whose eyes widened in shock; this man was lifting her sword using only one hand, picking it up by the scabbard as if handling a regular longsword before grasping the hilt with his other hand to draw the blade. Even in the Beilschmidt border regiment, there weren’t many who possessed such incredible physical might. It seemed this man’s impressive build wasn’t just for show.

Having drawn the blade, Enzo studied it for a moment before placing it back on the workbench. The process had taken him longer than usual as the Grand Tonnerre Quatre was quite a bit longer than a normal longsword, but he had managed to handle it without any assistance.

“...It’s heavy.”

“It is.”

“And the balance is completely off.”

It was clear that nearly everyone wanted to gasp at that remark, but no one dared make a sound. Enzo’s apprentices had turned pale. Criticizing one of the Empire’s treasured swords before the royal family was no different than insulting the Empire itself; based on what he said next, it wouldn’t have been strange if Enzo was charged for blasphemy. Even Abidal-Evra must have heard it from outside, as he was glaring into the workshop rather angrily.

“M-My humblest apologies! Our smith doesn’t know how to choose his words!” Vanessa hurriedly interjected, but Altina merely raised her hand.

“I’m speaking with the blacksmith.”

“A-Ah... Of course.”

Altina leaned in toward Enzo. To those who didn’t know her, she must have seemed furious. “Please, tell me what you mean,” she said.

“The hilt is far too short for the blade, and the material being used here is far too brittle. This was presumably done to minimize the weight,” he declared readily. “I’m surprised that something like this can be considered the emperor’s regalia.”

The atmosphere grew even more tense. Small cries escaped from the lips of Enzo’s apprentices, and Abidal-Evra’s face turned even redder, making it seem as though he would draw his sword at any moment. Meanwhile, Vanessa had gone so pale that she looked like she was on the verge of collapsing. Regis supported her by the shoulder, then whispered into her ear:

“...It’ll be fine, Sis.”

“Wha— Huh?”

Altina slammed a hand down on the workbench, raising a tremendous bang. The room immediately fell into anxious silence; all eyes were on her. The apprentices were waiting for the verdict to be handed down, the soldiers were readying themselves for the order to draw, and Vanessa was praying to God. It seemed that Regis was the only one who wasn’t worried in the slightest.

Then came Altina’s booming voice: “You’d think so, wouldn’t you!? This sword is preposterous!”

Regis immediately understood what she meant, and Enzo nodded in understanding a beat later. “I’d never seen any of the first emperor’s swords before now, but I’ve handled a few from his time. They were all sturdy and practical—made to survive an era of war. I understand the ornaments, given that this is an emperor’s sword and all, but even taking that into consideration, this one is... off. In battle, they say that L’Empereur Flamme stood in the vanguard, right? There’s no way such a hero would be swinging around something so useless!”

“My thoughts exactly! It really is ridiculously hard to use!”

“And then there’s you, missy—I’m surprised you’re able to swing this thing around.”

“Well, what else can I do? The emperor himself lent it to me. And explaining that it’s hard to use just isn’t an option; they’d all think I was just making an excuse and that it was too heavy for me. Not on my life!”

“Hahaha! No doubt about that!”

“Well, can you fix it?”

“As a decorative piece, or as a weapon?”

“As a weapon, of course!”

Everyone nearby had borne witness to a commoner blacksmith addressing Altina as casually as he would a good friend, paying no mind to the expected formalities. He had even gone so far as to address the fourth princess and major general of the imperial army as “missy.” His apprentices had turned as white as freshly washed bed sheets, while Vanessa actually looked rather serene. It seemed that she had already accepted the worst, and she now wore a resolved expression like a widow stopping by her ex-lover’s grave. Meanwhile, the guards were holding their heads in their hands. As they had previously accompanied the princess to the capital, they had a slight grasp of her personality—in particular the fact that she did not discriminate against commoners.

Regis sighed. It seemed that an understanding had been reached, and it would be cruel to ignore the panic that his sister and Enzo’s disciples were clearly in. And then there was Abidal-Evra and his men, who were still out in the rain. To put them all at ease, Regis interrupted Altina, who was continuing to grow evermore heated over the treasured sword.

“...Princess, you’re shocking everyone. Also, what I know about your sword might prove useful. How about we move somewhere you can calm down before we continue these talks?”

“You know something about my sword, Regis?”

“...I’ve done some research.”

“Hm... All right, you have a point. We shouldn’t keep people waiting in the rain, and we’re getting in the way of the smithy’s work. Sister, may we borrow someplace to talk?” Altina asked.

“Eh!? Oh, yes, of course!”

Just then, a look of realization crossed Enzo’s face, almost immediately followed by an awkward smile. “Ah... How discourteous of me! I, err... When it comes to talking about weapons, I lose all reservations... I can’t believe I spoke to a princess in such an improper tone...” He had caught himself much too late, but Altina just responded with a cheerful laugh.

“Ahahaha! I don’t care about that. We have enough sticklers for etiquette in the Ministry of Ceremonies; we don’t need any more. I sought out a blacksmith for his skill in smithery!”

At those words, Enzo shrunk back, his expression a mix of gratitude and awe.

✧ ✧ ✧

The living space beside the workshop contained a living room large enough to accommodate the entire unit, but Abidal-Evra ordered that only three guards could go inside. The rest continued surveillance outside, albeit only standing where there was a roof over their heads.

In an admirable display, Abidal-Evra himself volunteered to stay among those stuck outside. It was a dreary night in the middle of May, and he was no doubt fatigued from five consecutive days of marching, but he willingly stood outside regardless. He definitely would have preferred to wait inside and enjoy the warmth of the fireplace, and that was precisely why he had afforded the luxury to his men instead. Was this his way of realizing Altina’s motto that the best way to gain support was by taking the initiative where others would refuse? If only there were more officers like him on their side...

Meanwhile, Regis and Altina settled down inside the brick house, seating themselves at a table large enough for ten. The apprentices presumably ate with the family on a regular basis.

As he looked around the room, Regis noticed a shelf lined with children’s toys shaped out of iron. Now that I think about it, I’ve never actually seen my nephews’ faces before. I hope they’re doing well... he thought. His sister, Vanessa, had two children.

His brother-in-law’s smithing business seemed to be turning a good profit; they had hired three housekeepers, and had put together quite a lavish meal of steamed potatoes, grilled pork sausages, a salty soup, and shredded wild plants. Vanessa had seemed terribly apologetic when she told them that they didn’t really have anything prepared, but Altina was simply exuberant, looking forward to tasting the food of a commoner for the first time.

“We intruded so suddenly, and yet you even prepared dinner for us. You have my thanks,” Altina said humbly.

“It was no trouble at all, honestly! That I was even granted the opportunity to serve a meal to Lady Marie Quatre herself will be the highlight of my life!”

Altina laughed. “Oh, surely you’re exaggerating!”

Were her life story ever to be chronicled, this episode would surely serve as a brief vignette illustrating her character—that was the way Regis saw it, at least. Whether it was depicted as a disingenuous deed intended to make light of the royal family’s authority or an example of how she did indeed treat commoners as equals would entirely depend on the writer’s opinion.

Vanessa returned to the kitchen for more food; she would need to prepare some for the apprentices as well. Only Altina, Regis, and Enzo were seated at the table. The guards who had stayed inside were waiting in another room.

Once they had said a prayer, the meal began. Altina immediately brought a spoonful of soup to her lips before speaking. “I imagine that you’ll feel a lot more comfortable speaking more casually, Mr. Smith. Let’s drop the needless formalities. That’s why I sent my guards away.”

Enzo seemed nervous, but he would hopefully open up as the conversation went on. For that reason, it would probably be best to begin by speaking casually. Even Regis very much wanted to be able to relax.

“Let’s continue where we left off, then...” Regis said, and Altina quickly swallowed the piece of potato in her mouth before jumping in.

“Right—you know something about my sword?”

“Yes, though I feel that I have to preface this by saying that I wasn’t deliberately hiding this from you... Around three hundred years ago, there was a period where Belgaria maintained quite favorable relations with its neighboring countries. The Germanian Federation had not yet come into existence, the small northern countries were too preoccupied waging war on one another, and the mountains separating us from the east and south made war and trade with these regions unfeasible.”

“How so?”

“Carriages were heavier back then, and horses were weaker. The large horses we regularly use for labor were few in number.”

“Oh, I see. So what you’re saying is...”

“War was so rare in Belgaria that the country decided to focus on developing its culture instead, such as through ceremonies and services. It really was a period of arts. Historic paintings and sculptures, plays and compositions—the works produced in this era were very rich in culture. Even knights began to prioritize the fine arts above the martial arts, and weapons started to be judged based on their aesthetics rather than their practicality in battle.”

“But weapons are weapons, aren’t they?” Altina asked, earning her a nod of agreement from Enzo.

But Regis shook his head. “No, a weapon is a tool used to win a war, and wars are waged to protect the people one holds dear. In a time where beauty determined one’s place in society, which in turn determined how secure you were, an exquisite weapon was an amazing thing to have.”

“Mn... When you put it like that, I guess I can see what you mean... Those nobles in high society all carry swords that have so much gold slapped on them that I can’t tell whether they’re even usable anymore.”

“Since we’re at war right now, impractical weapons aren’t very desirable... But three hundred years ago, when appearances were valued above all else, the Grand Tonnerre Quatre received an overhaul.”

“What did they change?”

“The blade couldn’t be changed as it is made of trystie, but the hilt is only made of wood and leather—two materials that must occasionally be replaced. Instead of having the hilt restored, as was standard, it was ordered to be completely remade in accordance with the values held at the time. Well, rumor has it that the emperor who ruled during this period actually asked to have the sword remade because it was too heavy for him to pick up, so he wanted to make it as light as possible.”

Altina looked at Regis, clearly displeased. “If you can’t pick it up, then train till you can!”

“Tell that to the late emperor.”

“Right. When I’m up in heaven, the first thing I’m going to do is give him a piece of my mind.”

Regis immediately pictured the emperor of a peaceful era being chased around by warrior princess Altina and couldn’t help but feel ever so slightly sorry for him.

“Books weren’t very common at the time, so there aren’t any proper records... but given that it was an era where art flourished, there should at least be a painting of the Grand Tonnerre Quatre before it was overhauled.”

That said, the artwork produced in times of peace was generally characterized by dramatization over realism, so the accuracy of any paintings they found would depend entirely on the artist. People generally saw the world around them as stagnant and uninteresting during times of prolonged peace, and so created their own stories to compensate. In contrast, during times of war, people were taught to treasure what they had. That was precisely why Regis preferred fictional works full of dreams over bleak realisms; delusions were the product of peace.

“...Now, I’ve never seen it myself, but there should be a painting in the imperial museum that would make for a good reference.”

“Off we go, then!”

Regis hurriedly stopped Altina before she could jump to her feet. “Hold on... You still have a job to do here. Don’t forget that you’re leading the Beilschmidt border regiment.”

“Erk... Right. What should I do?”

“Commoners can’t enter the museum, so I think we should first use your name and status to secure a permit. After all, my brother-in-law is the one who really needs to see the painting... assuming he accepts the job, that is.” Regis turned his gaze to Enzo, who was listening with deep intrigue.

“The emperor’s prized sword—a mistake three hundred years in the making—corrected by my hand! Sounds amazing!”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you! In that case, I’ll leave everything to you!”

Regis was beginning to feel that Altina and Enzo were on the same wavelength, but whatever the case, what mattered was that they seemed to have reached an agreement. But as important as that was, it did not entirely resolve the problem.

Regis stood from his seat, putting his dinner on hold. “Enzo, might I be so obliged as to discuss something with you in private?”

“Yeah?”

“This way, if you will,” he said, before leading Enzo into a separate room.

“Hey now, Reggie...” Enzo replied, a puzzled look on his face. “Back there, you were speaking normally to a princess, of all people, so don’t get all stiff and formal when you’re talking to me. How am I even supposed to respond?”

“...You have a point.”

“Still, what a shocker. Don’t get me wrong, I’d heard that you were working as a tactician for the princess, but I just kinda figured you’d be one of many, many others—just as a little helper or something. But look at you; it’s almost like you’re her friend.”

“Right. There’d be a much more distinct command hierarchy in the army of a regular noble, but...” Regis started, trying to explain himself. He didn’t want Enzo to think that all armies were this disorganized.

“She’s taken quite a liking to you.”

“Maybe. I don’t think she dislikes me, but... You see, a few things happened back when we first met, and...” Since Altina had first appeared before Regis disguised as a cab driver, he had spoken to her as he would any younger girl, and that casualness had become the norm from that point onward.

Altina had been longing for someone whom she could talk openly and frankly with, which Regis suspected was because she saw formal language and flowery words as nothing more than a way to hide one’s true intentions. He could guess that this was most likely a mentality she had picked up after spending so long in the courts surrounded by nothing but enemies. Knowing this, Regis couldn’t help but pity her.

To think a commoner would be pitying a princess... What a farce, Regis thought, a cynical smirk creeping onto his face.

As he was now alone with Enzo, Regis could begin the negotiations. “What I want to discuss pertains to your payment.”

“That’s... Well, you know... If you want me to fix up a sword like that, it’s gonna cost quite a pretty penny.”

“You’re doing some impressive work here at your forge, Enzo; don’t you think it’s about time that you made a name for yourself? Repairing the emperor’s sword is a huge job that would be spoken of all through the Empire.”

“Yeah, I understand that much.”

“So, considering the impact that this job will have on your future, don’t you think you should give us even just a small discount? Yes, how would you feel about giving us a family discount?”

“Hm... A family discount? But we’re gonna need gold and gemstones for the ornamentation...”

“We can put down a deposit, if necessary.”

“Huh? A deposit...!? Gn... I see...”

“Rest assured, we’ll pay for the finished product in full.”

“...Thank God. I don’t think I could stomach another tab.”

It was common practice for craftsmen to open tabs for their customers, meaning that the smith wasn’t paid on the completion of each task, but was rather obligated to go around collecting payments at the end of each month or year. One reason for this was that nobles lived on taxes, and so would only have money readily available when the taxation cycle came to a close. It naturally followed suit that craftsmen and other servants who did work for these nobles were paid on a similar system. Whether or not the buyer had enough money on them was seldom considered when a purchase was deemed necessary, and paying using money that one did not have was a common thread throughout history.

But from the perspective of a craftsman, this practice was akin to giving out a loan without charging interest. Plus, due to their weak standing as commoners, most would have to jump through many irritating hoops to collect money from a noble.

Enzo wasn’t much of a talker, and so Regis had presumed that he was enduring his fair share of hardships. It seemed he was right on the money.

“Enzo, if you’re having trouble collecting any particular debts, we can buy them off of you.”

The look on Enzo’s face immediately changed. Even without words, it was clear what was on his mind; he must have had quite a few debts piled up, and, while Regis didn’t hold anything against his virtuous nature, this man was not suited for business negotiations.

“Truth be told, I haven’t been able to collect even half of what we’re owed from our noble clientele...”

“That sounds serious. Well, don’t worry—we’ll take over from here. Now, about the cost of repairing the treasured sword...”

“Right. I’m gonna give it a good look over before I give you an estimate. Give me a minute. I’ll try to keep it as cheap as possible.”

“Please go easy on us.”

Those nobles stalling payment were in for a surprise, as the mere commoner blacksmith they had considered so lightly was about to be replaced by a Belgarian princess eager to stake her claims.

✧ ✧ ✧

Altina sat alone, chewing a mouthful of potato. It had been a considerably long time since she had eaten by herself, without even Clarisse accompanying her, and was reminiscent of her days in the imperial court.

Vanessa walked in from the kitchen, carrying a bottle of wine and some glasses. “Oh?”

“If you’re wondering where Regis and Mr. Smith have gone, they’re having a secret discussion in another room.”

“Dear me! Leaving the princess alone!?”

“If my absence aids the negotiations, then I don’t mind. Anyway, forget about that. I’d love to hear some of your stories, Sister.”

“With pleasure.”

Despite Vanessa being part of a commoner family, the glasses she had brought in were almost completely transparent—a testament to just how successful the smithy was. She started to fill one with a red liquid.

“Sorry in advance; it’s cheap...”

“Just because something is more expensive doesn’t mean it automatically tastes better.”

No matter what exquisite drink was being offered in the court, it was always poured over insidious curses on hushed breath. It was as pleasant as being served mud. Being able to chat to someone who regarded her without scorn or disgust was a fresh and exciting experience for Altina.

“So, you want to hear about what Reggie used to get up to?”

“Right. He hardly ever talks about himself. I haven’t heard a word about his parents, for example.”

“Ah... Our parents passed when he was only eight. They were victims of an epidemic.”

“Oh, I see...”

“Even back then, Reggie was a bookworm. He was always holed up in our father’s study and barely left the house, so he had no friends in our neighborhood. I worried about him...”

“Fufu... So he hasn’t changed much.”

“They were all really complicated books that I couldn’t read, too. And I’m older than him.”

“I heard that he joined the military to cover his living expenses.”

“If all he wanted was to get by, then he could have followed my example and served under a noble. But servants must work from dawn to dusk.”

“It’s not an easy job, is it?”

“Right... He said that he wouldn’t have enough time to read, and that the salary wouldn’t cover his books.”

“Now that you mention it, he mentioned that he wanted to be a librarian at the military library.”

“That really is all he thinks about. That idiot...” Vanessa sighed.

But Altina didn’t see his obsession as a bad thing; she knew that it was because of Regis’s keen interest in books that she now had a knowledgeable strategist on her side.

“That couldn’t have been easy on you, Sister.”

“Fufu... You’re right. Reggie was nothing but trouble. He went off to the military academy, but no matter how long he spent there, he’d come home with nothing but stories of how useless and hopeless he was. I was always worrying that he’d drop out.”

Altina nodded. Regis’s swordplay was worse than that of a child, and his horseback riding skills were despair-inducingly poor; she was surprised that he had even managed to graduate from such a notoriously difficult academy. It was presumably because he was outstanding enough in one subject to cover for his shortcomings in the rest.

“But he was unmatched when it came to strategizing?”

“Yes—within the academy, at least.”

“Then he lost to someone outside the school?”

“Mhm. There was one time when they held a match against another academy. Reggie was chosen as one of his school’s representatives... and apparently lost to the son of Count Vicente.”

“Huh. Well, color me impressed.”

“Oh, people say that kid has God-given talent, among other things, but there were definitely some... suspicious circumstances... Ah, Marie Quatre, do you know how strategy matches work?”

“I don’t know the specifics. I wasn’t able to go to military academy, though I definitely would have, had I been born a man!”

“Same!” The two shared a passionate nod, before Vanessa continued. “Strategy matches are quite a bit different from your standard game of chess, for example—each side must argue what they believe the correct course of action would be given a particular state of a war, and a referee then determines the victor.”

“Oh, so it’s a competitive debate?”

“Something like that. At the time, an officer came all the way from the eastern front to act as the judge, but, the thing is... that officer belonged to the same unit as Count Vicente himself!”

Altina grimaced. “You’re telling me the judge was his father’s colleague?”

“His direct subordinate.”

“That makes his judgment rather suspect. I mean, I can’t say for sure whether there was actually any favoritism or not, but...”

“It was definitely suspect; I very nearly demanded a do-over! The moment that Regis told me about it, I was so disheartened, but he just said that I was making too big of a deal over a game!”

“Ahaha... That sounds like Regis, all right.”

“My thoughts exactly!”

“He was still undefeated at his academy, though... Isn’t that a splendid accomplishment to be proud of? His lack of self-confidence really is a mystery; you’d think that having something he’s really good at would at least boost his self-esteem a little.”

“Is Reggie’s self-confidence really that low?”

“Yep. And he’s as dense as a brick.”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, no... What I mean is... T-To me, Regis is a precious subordinate whom I’ve entrusted with a vital role. That’s why I’m so concerned about his mental wellbeing.”

“To have a princess worry about him... That boy’s really lucky.”

Altina gave a wry smile. “Ahaha... It’s really not a big deal.”

Vanessa’s eyes grew distant as she stared at a distant past. “Let’s see... The reason Reggie’s so insecure... Maybe I’m partly to blame.”

“Did something happen?”

“I was only twelve when our parents passed. We had no choice but to use up our savings and sell what was in the house to get by.”

“...That sounds harsh.”

“Yeah... But I was at an age where I could go into service, and we were fortunate enough to be acquainted with the kind wife of a nobleman who had known our parents, so we somehow managed to get by. It was all so new to me, though, and I was always making mistakes. I would often come home feeling down and depressed... and even then, little Reggie would be reading his books in the study.”

“Mhm...?”

“And he knew all kinds of things that I didn’t know. He probably knew as much as the teachers at school.”

“So he’s always been like that...”

“There was this one day, for instance—an adult came by the house and told us that our roof was worn down. He said that, unless we had it fixed immediately, it would leak and rot the pillars underneath, meaning we’d have to rebuild the entire house.”

“No way! That sounds serious!”

“Then ten-year-old Reggie immediately replied: ‘Is that true, mister? We had the roof repaired just last year. We’ll be in a lot of trouble if we were ripped off... I need to report this to the authorities. Can you come with me and explain the situation to them?’”

“...He said that as a kid?”

“Yes. I remember being in such a panic, but... the adult just made a troubled face and said, ‘Oh, you just had it repaired? I must have made a mistake then. Hahaha... Pardon me!’ Then he practically ran away.”

“Eh? What does that mean!?”

“Once the adult was gone, Reggie told me that the man was trying to scam us.”

“Eh!? That was a scam!? Then you really should have gone to the authorities!”

“That wouldn’t have done much, unfortunately. The man wasn’t lying—our roof was far from new, and there was a real risk that it would leak and cause the pillars to rot unless we had it repaired. The scam was making people think that it was going to happen much sooner than it actually was.”

“Wait... Shouldn’t you have gotten it repaired then?”

“Regis told me that roofs can always be fixed after they’ve started leaking. That’s what it said in one of his books, at least.”

Altina didn’t respond, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Of course, our roof wasn’t newly repaired,” Vanessa said with a sigh. “That was just a lie to chase the scammer away.”

“Regis tricked a scammer!?”

“That’s right.”

“That sounds pretty impressive to me! Why would something like that make him insecure?”

“Well... I was working so hard to support him. And Regis was knowledgeable and eloquent enough to put adults to shame. He wouldn’t even brag about it. That’s why I ended up saying something to him...”

“What did you say?”

“‘You’re so feeble and useless, Reggie! You can’t do anything without me!’ ...Something along those lines.”

“...Huh?” Altina blinked in surprise, and Vanessa averted her eyes.

“I mean, I just had to bring him down a notch... There was no way I could keep going otherwise. Regis was amazing... He was so clever, and so reliable... There was no way that twelve-year-old me would have the strength to keep going while that was true!”

“I see...”

“I never thought my words would stick with him into adulthood.”

“Right.”

Her conduct was definitely reprehensible, but these were the actions of a twelve-year-old girl doing whatever she could to endure the harsh living situation that she had been so suddenly thrown into. No one could blame her for the way she had acted. And for Regis to take the heated words of a young girl to heart, clinging onto them into his adult years to the point where he developed an inferiority complex was—

“Hold on. It’s true that he’s weak and all, but isn’t that his own fault?”

“Ah, you’re right! I bought some wheat at the market this one time, and the moment I handed the bag to him, he toppled over and was almost crushed by it.”

“He’s way too weak...”

“It’s because he spends all of his time reading books.”

“He really should go out and train from time to time!”

“Exactly! I think that’s why I came to like men who aren’t so... eloquent. Men who have plenty of muscle and bulk and— Ah, so attractive! Just like my husband,” Vanessa said, completely fawning over the verbal picture she had just painted. “Oh my, how embarrassing... To think I let myself get so carried away in front of the princess!”

“Err, right...”

A short while later, Regis returned to the dining room. “We’ve finished our discussion. My brother-in-law has gone to look at your sword. His estimate should hopefully be within our budget.”

Altina looked over, then fell into thought for a moment. What would have happened had Regis not been with her? At the very least, these business negotiations wouldn’t have worked out. Maybe she would have still been at Fort Volks, trying to hold back the soldiers attacking from Varden.

No—now that she thought about it, without Regis, she wouldn’t have been able to take the fortress in the first place. She had already relied on him so many times there was little point in her trying to list every single instance.

It seemed that similar thoughts were also running through Vanessa’s mind as, much like Altina, her gaze was fixed on Regis. A brief, awkward silence fell over the room.

“I-Is something the matter?” Regis faltered.

“Mm... We were just talking about how Regises will be Regises,” Altina muttered, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

“...Say again?”

Regis was now wearing such a blank expression that Altina couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, Reggie!” Vanessa exclaimed as she suddenly stood from her seat. “You should go and see your nephews! You haven’t met them yet, have you?”

“Ah, you’re right; I haven’t.”

“Fufu... The youngest is still just a baby.”

Altina shot to her feet as well, then leaned in close to Vanessa. “U-Um... I want to see them too...”

The reaction took Vanessa by surprise, but her lips quickly curled into a smile as warm and soothing as the rising sun. This wasn’t the expression of an enthusiastic merchant or a strong-willed sister—it was the face of a mother.

“You’re more than welcome to. In fact, it would be an honor.”