Chapter 4: The Thundering Blade

The fort was abuzz with talk of the duel. Naturally, there was no way the princess could win with Jerome as her opponent... But then why had she issued the challenge? Did she really think the margrave would hold back against royalty?

The soldiers exchanged rumors in hushed whispers.

“You think they’ll trade a few rehearsed blows before the margrave surrenders? Turning your sword against royalty’s practically a death sentence, ain’t it?”

“Yer only saying that ‘cuz you didn’t see it at the plaza. It’s been a long time since I saw the general seriously worked up; thought I was gonna piss myself.”

“Hey, is the princess gonna be all right?”

“Well he’s gonna marry ‘er, so I doubt he’d ‘urt ‘er too badly.”

“Hehehee... What a roundabout way to propose!”

“Ahahahah!”

In a good and honest confrontation, Jerome’s victory was inevitable. The soldiers’ main point of concern lay in whether the duel was truly serious or just a farce.

If it was serious, what would the margrave do with Altina? Many were concerned over what they saw as an oblivious princess, who had spent her entire upbringing at the palace, lashing out at an esteemed hero.

Interest focused in particular on whether he would actually take her as a bride when he won.

Regis made his rounds through the western ward, gathering the rumors that spread between the soldiers.

“...Is it too much to ask for a single person who believes Altina can win?”

A large majority of the soldiers considered themselves side characters in the anticipated duel between the princess and the margrave, who stood at center stage. This was, however, far from true—these gossiping soldiers were by far the most important players in this soon-to-be tragedy. Altina had issued her challenge to gain the soldiers’ trust, and Jerome had accepted precisely because said soldiers were watching.

What the three thousand men of the border regiment had to say on the matter was more important than anything else.

It had been unintentional, but Regis still felt responsible for spurring the princess into action, and wanted to help her however he could. It was therefore necessary that he understood the soldiers’ thoughts.

Having patrolled everywhere he could think of, he returned to the central tower...

This time heading toward Jerome’s room.

As he stood in the hallway outside, an overwhelming tension washed over him. His heart pulsed at a concerning pace.

Steadying his breath, he tapped a knuckle against the black-painted door.

“Who is it?” came a low voice from inside.

He swallowed dryly.

“...It’s Regis. I came because I need to talk to you, Sir Jerome.”

“Hmph... Pointless words, I’d assume.”

“That depends, really...”

“Enter.”

Regis opened the door and entered a chamber about as large as his own room. It appeared the bedroom was further in, as there was another door in the back. To its side was an office desk, and the shelves by the wall were lined with books on law and economics.

Jerome was in the center of the room, leaning a short, heavy practice spear against his shoulder. His upper body was bare and already drenched in sweat.

The spear only had a round weight at its end, yet Jerome’s fiercely intimidating aura was still enough to strike fear into Regis’s very soul.

“......”

“Kukukuh... Has the little lady sent you to poison me or something?”

“If that’s a concern of yours, it’s Clarisse you should be looking out for.”

“Yeah, she’s a scary one. What’s a man to do...? Such a good woman, ruined by a terrible personality. What a waste.”

“I’m here about the duel.”

“It’s too late to do anything about it now.”

“...I thought so.” Regis sighed.

Had Jerome not been fully up for it, Regis had thought of a number of ways to rescind the challenge.

But the man actually seemed to be giddy with anticipation. So much so that he was already training for it.

“Phew... Who’da thought she’d challenge me, just like that? And here I was hoping she’d waste her days away complaining and lazing around until she was married off to some high aristocrat or another... But it looks like I had her wrong.”

“It would’ve been a load off my mind if she had just lazed around.”

“What kinda talk is that, kid? You don’t think your precious little lady can win?”

“Not just me. The soldiers feel the same. The only one who believes she can win is the princess herself.”

Jerome shook his head. He took a horizontal swipe with his heavy training spear, scattering sweat from the muscles on his arms and chest.

“Hm... I wouldn’t say that.”

“...What do you mean?”

“I’m not making light of the little lady’s abilities. It’s plain idiotic to underestimate anyone who can swing that massive sword around.”

“I suppose.”

So he’s not even going to let his guard down, Regis lamented internally.

Quite honestly, martial arts prowess was something Regis couldn’t discern no matter how closely he watched. Jerome’s movements as he swung a heavily weighted training spear were so fast he could barely even chase them with his eyes.

Mph. Mph. He swung his spear as he spoke.

“That sword’ll be trouble... Trying to block her attacks, be it with a spear or a sword, would just shatter my weapon. Those can be replaced on the battlefield, but if your weapon breaks in a duel, it counts as a loss.”

“I see.”

“That’s also most likely what she was trying to tell me before I left. She plans on using the Grand Tonnerre Quatre.”

“But, Sir Jerome, I heard you owned a lance that could match even the treasured sword.”

“I do... but that’s a cavalry lance. It’d be unwieldy to use on foot.”

“Then why not bring your horse?”

“For a fight in the plaza? Now that’d be a laugh. A cavalry soldier is best suited to open plains. ...She’s thought this through. I can’t use my greatest lance, nor my trusted steed, which forces me from the type of combat I excel in most. The little lady might just win this one.”

“I can’t think such a small disadvantage would influence the result.”

Far from it, Regis was now only more certain of Altina’s impending defeat. The way he saw it, in a battle against someone whose skill was so vastly superior, the only way she would stand a chance was if her opponent acted carelessly. If he was intoxicated, maybe... Or worse.

And yet, far from careless, the man before him was on edge. The minor disadvantages placed on Jerome had only made him more alert.

Regis had no idea what Altina’s intentions were, but from the perspective of a tactician, he had to say it was a poorly thought out plan.

“Oi, Regis... You’re still hoping I lose, though, aren’t you?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“If you wanted me to win, you wouldn’t have come here. You’d be out enjoying the rumors alongside the soldiers. But there’s no need to worry—I’m sure you’ll still be doing the admin work you love so much.”

“I must offer two corrections.”

“Go on.”

“First of all, the only resolution I hope for is a peaceful one.”

If Altina stood victorious, she would no doubt be one large step closer to realizing her ambition. However, given the nature of her goal, that would also send her practically barreling toward a cliff edge.

If he couldn’t stop her, Regis thought it was his duty to at least secure a safety net.

“Kukukuh... I doubt you’ll find such things as peace on the front lines.”

“And my second correction... I don’t love administrative work, not in the slightest. Whose fault do you think it is that I’m losing so much sleep!?”

He inadvertently dropped all formalities; he had intended to suppress his emotion, yet ended up baring his fangs.

After widening his eyes in slight surprise, Jerome burst into a grand laugh.

“Kwa-hahahah!! I see, then please allow me to rephrase myself: There’s no need to worry, you’ll still be doing the admin work you despise so much—all for me!”

“How terrible.” Regis slumped his shoulders.

Jerome’s voice suddenly changed tone, coming out much quieter than usual.

“Hey, Regis... You’ve already noticed, haven’t you?”

“...Is this about the budget?”

He nodded.

Regis felt a cold sensation run across his nape. While he was looking through those vast swathes of paperwork, the pieces had gradually fallen into place.

“...The reason you drove off the administrative officers... was to make sure finance would be handled only by those who could keep a secret.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“...Why did you trust me?”

“That’s... not something I have to answer.”

“When we first met, you tried to bribe me, and then threatened me with a pitchfork. I wonder, was that all because of this?”

The Beilschmidt border regiment had a certain extra expense that wasn’t disclosed to the military’s administrative department, though Regis had yet to identify how such funds were being used.

But considering the circumstances, he could hazard a guess.

Jerome curled up the edges of his lips.

“Hmm... About what we discussed: You’ve been so busy with paperwork, I kept putting it off...”

“About you becoming my direct superior?”

“Forget I asked. It no longer matters. In three days’ time, this cheap drama will be over. You will work under me.”

Regis made a loathful face.

“I’m not valuable enough to draw a margrave’s interest.”

“Don’t let it go to your head; you’re just a freebie. The commander-in-name will be driven off, and a member of the royal line will marry into the Beilschmidt household... After such a large purchase, you’re just an extra apple the grateful shopkeeper throws in the bag.”

“I see... So, I’m an apple.”

An extra or not, Regis found it terribly unsettling he had become even a fraction of what drove this man to fight. Whatever the case, the margrave kept his guard high, had a strong will to fight, and was confident of victory. What’s more, Regis could sense he had his own aspirations, too.

He tried his hardest to keep his irritation from showing.

This is going to be tough, Altina. Why did you have to issue this challenge?

✧ ✧ ✧

Whatever happened in three days’ time, there was something Regis needed to do today. If the regiment came under inspection, then not only the officer in charge of finance, but even the commander could be punished for failing to supervise. Even if she was but a commander-in-name.

Such an inspection risked certain secrets coming to light.

Now returning to his own room, Regis wrote up the rest of his paperwork in a hurry.

He’d fallen victim to the demons of sleep on several occasions, who managed to snatch a great deal of his time; luckily, despite their best efforts he somehow finished the job and stamped the seal onto his final stack of paperwork.

His task complete, Regis languidly rose from his seat and walked outside.

The sun was now at its zenith. The sky had been cloudy that morning, but was now sunny enough to melt the snow coating the ground below. It was warm enough that he could have even done without his coat.

A line of people had formed by the southern gate.

The courier was here.

The majority of those pleasantly accepting letters were knights. Most soldiers could neither read nor write and so, naturally, seldom partook in writing letters.

“The carriage is leaving!”

Clang, clang, the bell chimed.

Regis broke into a sprint.

“Wait, wait! Hold the carriage! I’ll be in big trouble if this isn’t sent out today!”

The postal service came only once every two weeks.

Just before the courier could hop on board, Regis pushed the sealed document into his hands. He returned a subtly peeved glare.

“Let’s see... It’s addressed to the Ministry of Military Affairs? Mister, aren’t military documents sent through a different postal service?”

“I’m in a hurry, and there’ll be serious consequences for us if that isn’t delivered. It’s a mission of vital importance. Please.”

“Hold up, I’m just a civilian courier, not a soldier! If it’s really that important, send a messenger.”

“Sir Jerome refuses to waste his soldiers on paperwork. It’s a real bother...”

“Hm, well, the ministry is in the capital, so I guess I could drop by...”

“Thanks, that’s a massive help.”

Regis handed over a shiny copper denier as a tip.

The courier smiled and placed the document with the rest of his cargo.

I’ll write that off as a necessary expense, Regis decided, painfully aware of his lack of personal funds.

The post carriage departed through the southern gate. With this, it seemed Regis could finally get a wink of sleep. He let out a large yawn, only to be interrupted by a faint giggle coming from behind.

He turned around to see Clarisse, a mountain of laundry hoisted under her arms.

“You look tired.”

“Yeah... Not only has the paperwork worn me thin, there are all sorts of things happening that I just can’t leave be.”

“Is it about the princess? You don’t have to worry about her.”

“...Do you have any time to spare?”

“Do I look free? The absolute cheek.”

She pouted, adjusting her stance to further emphasize the already unmissable heaps of cloth.

Back at the capital, it was natural to use detergent to clean garments, but here it was normal to use the tried-and-tested washboard. Detergent was still a luxury item in these parts.

“Sorry, you do look busy... It’s quite strange to do laundry at this time of day, though. Aren’t you supposed to do that early in the morning?”

“Milk was spilled all over the tablecloth in the dining hall. If I don’t wash it now, the smell will be something awful.”

“Oh, I see. Were you the one who spilled it?”

“No. I just happened to be free. If you don’t mind me doing laundry while we talk, I’ll happily hear you out.”

“Let’s do that. I’ll carry half.”

When he held out his hands, Clarisse smiled mischievously.

“Will you be all right?”

“I may be weak, but I should at least be able to carry half the laundry you can carry.”

“No, I meant the milk. It’ll stick to your clothes.”

“Erk... Whatever. I’ll wash it out with a wet cloth later.”

“Fufufu...”

The cloth Clarisse entrusted him with wasn’t even that wet... though it did smell of milk.

Regis made for the washing area with her.

Among a servant’s duties, laundry was just as important as cooking and cleaning. There was a semi-basement specially constructed for the task in a corner of the soldiers’ western ward.

Water from the melted snow flowed in through clay pipes, keeping the row of washing stations nice and wet.

The cloth was first submerged in the flowing water. Clarisse gave it some time to soak, letting as much of the stain wash out as possible.

Her pale hands immediately turned red on contact with the icy water.

“Kh...”

“Let me help.”

“I’m fine. So, you wanted to talk about the princess?”

“Yes, but... when you’re doing such a tough job right in front of me, I feel uncomfortable just standing around while I talk.”

“You say some strange things. That’s just what we call status.”

“In that case, helping out where I want to is within my status. ...Um, like this?”

Regis took a tablecloth from the mountain of laundry and imitated Clarisse, soaking it in the water.

“Ugah!?”

It was painfully cold.

“How incorrigible... Take your hands out of the water from time to time. You’ll get frostbite if you keep them in.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Are you okay doing this?”

“I’m used to it.”

“I see.”

“In the mornings, when I’m doing large loads of laundry, I’ll use that pot over there to heat the water. You can use it to warm your hands, and hot water gets rid of stains easier.”

There was indeed a large pot in the corner of the room.

That explained it. Otherwise, he couldn’t imagine how anyone could wash multiple pieces of clothing. Regis already felt like crying after just one.

“You’re not going to heat the water today?”

“There are only a few pieces to do. Are you done with your talk?”

“No, just beginning... Kuh...”

He rubbed his fingers that were stinging from the cold, trying to reclaim their heat. But leaving the cloth be wouldn’t get rid of the stains.

So he developed a small technique, hastily scrubbing the cloth against the washboard, then quickly withdrawing his hands to warm them before repeating the process.

“How are you holding up?”

“Urgh... Why do you think Altina issued the duel today of all days?”

“I doubt she thought too hard about the timing. She likely just had a flash of inspiration.”

“She really needs to learn how to act more deliberately.”

The smell of milk had finally dispersed from one sheet. While there were light splotches of yellow and brown here and there, it was now mostly white.

“Even so, I’m sure the princess will be fine.”

“I know it’s too late to stop her, but... I never thought you’d be that optimistic.”

“Why, Mr. Regis, don’t you believe in her?”

“I don’t have the talent to discern martial prowess. But when I consider objective fact, Altina barely has any chance of winning. If Sir Jerome could be defeated by a fourteen-year-old girl with barely any real combat experience, he would have died on the battlefield long ago.”

“I see. That is one way of looking at it.”

“If there’s another, please enlighten me...”

Clarisse pulled her sheet from the water.

“Because the princess assured me, ‘It’ll definitely work out~♪’”

“That’s just abandoning all thought. You can’t meld faith and fact as one and the same.”

“Then what do you intend to do?”

“...There aren’t many options left.”

✧ ✧ ✧

After finishing the laundry he was unaccustomed to, Regis parted with Clarisse and returned to his room. He couldn’t tell whether his unsteady feet were the result of stress or sleep deprivation.

On his way, he heard the rhythmic swish of practice swings in the courtyard.

He followed the noise to see Altina swinging a massive fauchard. Though it was an excessively long piece that usually required two hands to wield, she grasped it with one as if she were brandishing a small twig, moving the wind with each flourish.

I’ll admit, there’s no doubt she’s no ordinary girl, Regis thought. She boasted brute strength completely unsuited to her appearance.

He studied her a while longer. It seemed Altina was aware of his presence, as she suddenly flashed a smile in his direction.

“Oh, you want a go, too?”

“I don’t. I couldn’t. I don’t mean to brag, but—”

“You can’t even lift it?”

“Probably not.”

Regis shrugged, eliciting a wry smile from Altina. She resumed her swings.

“You’re... incredible.”

“If you’re talking about my physical strength, I’ve always had confidence in it. I’ve been swinging swords meant for adults since I was a small child.”

“However... whether you can win against Sir Jerome is honestly... What I’m trying to say is... I think it’ll be difficult.”

“Of course. If he could be defeated so easily, our enemies wouldn’t be having such a hard time.”

“Could it be you have some sort of plan? You are the one who issued the challenge.” He staked his last thread of hope on this question.

She looked back at him, rather perplexed.

“A plan? It’s a duel, so, of course, the stronger one will win.”

“Ech... So you really put zero thought into this. There are things you can do to increase your chance of victory, you know.”

“I know that. I’m not an idiot.”

“So you were thinking!?”

“His spear will be faster, so he’ll have the first strike. I must parry, and as my sword is too unwieldy for a nimble counter, I’ll have to mix in hand-to-hand combat as well. Do you think closing in and kicking him in the shin would be effective?”

Regis’s head dropped in disappointment.

“What’s with that...? So you’re just going to go at him with naive integrity...?”

“Otherwise this duel is meaningless. Winning is not my end goal.”

“Eh?”

“My aim is to prove to everyone that I’m stronger. I won’t earn the soldiers’ trust unless I face him head on and win. Nor will I earn yours.” Altina held a composed expression as she spoke.

Regis did think she was right. However...

“...He’s not someone you can beat without a plan, is he?”

“If I win using some scheme, this whole duel will have been pointless.”

“R-Right...”

“You’re not plotting something strange, are you?”

She glared at him hard. He inadvertently found himself avoiding eye contact.

“...There are plenty of ways to turn the tide without anyone noticing, you know? Like throwing glass pebbles, or focusing light to blind him, or laying a contraption under the dirt that’ll—”

His nervous whisper was cut short by a sudden howl as the wind picked up around him.

A shattering roar resounded as the large polearm was slammed at Regis’s feet. It pierced deep into the ground.

“Stop screwing me around!”

“H-Hey, Altina!?”

“Ah... Sorry. I’m a bit on edge...”

As the girl hung her head to apologize, Regis bowed back. That one was on me, he conceded.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I can understand why you’d want to fight fair and square. However, the destination you seek lies beyond a series of countless victories. Do you not think there’ll be times where we have to take the back door?”

Perhaps this was too harsh a truth for a fourteen-year-old girl. As things stood, the fourth princess, Altina, had no chance of legitimately succeeding the throne. If she wanted to become empress, it would have to be through usurpation.

Her motive was one born from integrity, so there was no way she would approve of a path stained in blood. She could only see a clean, just road ahead.

Then I shall walk the stained path so that you don’t have to. Regis clenched a fist.

A fist that was almost immediately enveloped by a pair of small, pale hands.

“Eh...?”

Fingertips clad in heat from her practice swings stroked Regis’s skin. Altina had moved right beside him.

When he looked up, she was so close he could almost make out his reflection in her beautiful crimson eyes.

“This may be presumptuous, but I know you’re worried about me. I understand you know about a lot of things.”

“I-I am worried... But I don’t know a great—”

“There is definite value in thinking tactically. But there are times when you have to win fair and square.”

“...And this is one of them?”

“Yes, wouldn’t you agree?”

Regis closed his eyes. He flipped through a number of books in his memory, drawing out the relevant information.

But he decided against using them in the end.

“If I used a scheme to help you win... you’d lose the righteousness of the road you tread. There is nothing more wretched than being ruled by one who has strayed from their path.”

“Err... I don’t really understand those complicated bits, but my gut tells me I need to win this fairly!”

“Can I believe in you...?”

“I’ll give you reason to believe in me. Just you watch!”

Altina tapped her fist against Regis’s still-clenched hand.

Their knuckles let out a quiet thump. Regis responded to this age-honored display of kinship with a nod.

Any plan to help her win would not only be unnecessary, but harmful to her as she was now.

But that didn’t mean he would stand idly by.

✧ ✧ ✧

Regis rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stepped into the officers’ dining hall. As the person he was looking for wasn’t there, he next went to the stables.

Some aimless wandering later, he was loudly greeted by the very man he wanted to see.

“Ah, Regis!”

“I was looking for you, Mr. Everard. Do you—”

“I was just looking for you. We need to talk!”

“You mean... about the princess?”

“Mn? About the duel? Wa-hahah!! I knew she’d challenge him one of these days, but I never expected it so soon. Took me a little by surprise!”

“You saw it coming?”

“For them to keep leaving her out like that... She’d have to do something about it eventually.”

“Yes, well...”

“And in a situation like that, the only option left is to draw your sword and carve your own way!”

Regis held his head. In short, Altina’s thought process wasn’t too different from the muscle-headed knight captain’s. When she was holding a sword, at least.

His head hurt.

No, that was precisely why she needed Regis as her tactician.

“Yeah... More like dig your own grave.”

“Wa-hahah! You have quite a way with words. As expected of a tactician!”

“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not a tactician.”

“Oh really? Those were some splendid tactics you used to nab those bandits. And wouldn’t using tactics make you a tactician?”

“No, that’s... The princess asked for my help, so I repeated something I’d read elsewhere... I don’t have the capacity to come up with new strategies of my own...”

“What’s so bad about that? Offering information that others don’t possess—sounds plenty useful to me!”

“I suppose...”

But what if he lacked the required knowledge at a crucial moment? Wasn’t that precisely the time a true tactician would be needed? Just like the situation at hand.

Everard slapped him on the back with enough force to blast away any remaining drowsiness.

“That smarts!”

“There are lives that were saved thanks to you.”

“What...?”

“My grandchild, you see! My dear petit-enfant was in Marquis Thénezay’s army, but somehow got out of that defeat alive.”

“Well, yes, the main camp was wiped out following a sneak attack, but the majority of our main forces got off just fine. I highly doubt I had anything to do with that.”

“You mean they barely escaped with their lives under persistent barbarian attacks, right?”

“...You could put it like that.”

“When you were dismissed from the main camp to the back lines, my poor grandchild was a part of the reserve forces sent back with you.”

“I do remember that unit.”

“And thanks to your command, the unit never routed and was even able to help its fleeing comrades.”

Regis recalled what had happened. They were painful memories to delve into.

“...By the time we’d noticed the enemy raid, the main camp was already up in flames... I advised them not to go back to help. I mean, it was already too late; they needed to prepare for the follow-up attack... There was little else we could do.”

“Don’t be so modest. The main camp fell, but the reason our fleeing army avoided total annihilation was largely thanks to Fifth-Grade Admin Officer Regis Aurick taking command of the reserves to hold down the barbarian pursuit.”

“I didn’t command anyone... The reserve forces had senior combat officers; they’re the ones who took action.”

“That’s not what it says here.”

Everard held out a letter, which Regis took from his hands.

Tidy letters unimaginable of this man’s progeny did indeed spell out a similar story:

How the writer was saved by Regis’s efforts when the army of Marquis Thénezay had fallen.

How a great many were saved.

And then how he’d learned Regis had been made to take full responsibility for the defeat, as the sole survivor of the fallen camp.

And so—

“To repay this debt, my grandchild volunteered for our regiment. Yes, a respectable decision to make!”

“Th-That can’t be true! The survival rate here might be a bit better than other camps along the border... but you’re more than ten times more likely to die on the front lines than in the capital. I can’t believe anyone would volunteer for that.”

“I’m sure they just want to protect their lord, who was so cruelly sent to die here.”

“...I’m not worth that much trouble.”

“Wa-hahah! You do say some funny things. When a person chooses to risk their life, they’re the only one who truly understands why!”

Everard was speaking the truth—at least, Regis believed he was. But he still found it hard to believe he had saved anyone, let alone that he was worthy of protection in return.

It was mystery after mystery.

“Mr. Everard, are you okay with this? For your cherished grandchild to volunteer for such a dangerous post, just for the likes of me?”

“If such is their will, so be it.”

“Am I even worth such a risk!?”

“Indeed... that is not my place to say,” Everard responded with a gentle smile.

Regis tilted his head, failing to understand what he meant.

“...Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you prove yourself to be the kind of thoughtless man who’d send my dear grandchild to their death, we’ll have to discuss your worth at the end of my fauchard.”

“So you’re not okay with this!”

“Sure I am.”

“Are you really sure!?”

If someone from his previous unit felt gratitude toward him, that was surely a welcome surprise. Yet Regis couldn’t shake the feeling that this person’s desire to protect him had in fact shaved several years from his lifespan.

He needed to set the derailed conversation back on track.

“...P-Putting all that aside... About the princess.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think she can win?”

“I’d say she’d do well to last ten blows.”

Which meant, by Everard’s appraisal, Jerome would win within the first ten strikes. There really was that great of a gap in their skill.

“...This may stray from the chivalry of a knight, but... would you be willing to be the princess’s lifeline?”

“Gn? Let’s hear what you have in mind.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Three days later—

It was almost time for the noon bell to ring. Droves of soldiers had already formed a ring in the plaza. Snow had been falling to such an extent since the early morning that, if the wind picked up, they would surely have a blizzard on their hands.

But neither side showed any intention of postponing for the weather.

Regis dropped by Altina’s room.

There were no happenings as there had been the other day. On the contrary, she sat calmly and quietly as she waited for the promised hour.

She wore arm guards, leg guards, and a breastplate over her dress, and perched on the edge of an extravagant chair.

An attentively laid out tea set rested on the table, untouched.

“You’re not looking too good, Regis.”

“If I collapse from a panic attack, you’re the one to blame. I hope you know that.”

“You’re not the one dueling, so how about you kick back a little?”

“Do you really believe you can win? Against the Hero of Erstein?”

“Of course! I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but if I don’t prove to everyone I can win, I’ll never earn their trust.”

“This is a terrible gamble...”

She stood. Even though she was a head shorter than Regis, her aura was so grand he felt he should be looking up at her.

“Could I become empress from my peaceful perch, having not lifted a finger of my own?”

“Probably not... But there’s something called risk management, and—”

“There are many battles in life that must be won alone.”

“You’re being too impatient.”

“...So you won’t believe I can win unless I prove it.”

Altina could only offer a sad smile.

Regis was at a loss for words. Can I really put my faith in her, even if no one else believes she can win?

“If you let your emotions carry you to the wrong decision, you’ll lose what can never be replaced. I’m not going to repeat the same mistake,” Regis said, his voice tinged with remorse.

He remembered Marquis Thènezay. His decision not to press his warning a third time was one that would surely haunt him forever—his failure to perceive the pride of a noble.

The possession of knowledge was meaningless without the expertise needed to put it to use. Expertise that he didn’t have. That disparaging fact had seeped into his very being.

“Are you going to stop me? Don’t tell me you’re going to ask me to run away with you. Why, that’s a little romantic, wouldn’t you say?”

“I could never do that. I considered it, believe me, but you’re skilled enough to make Sir Jerome wary. It’d be impossible to sneak you out without raising a ruckus. If you were willing to flee of your own volition, you would have stopped the duel by now.”

“Yeah. Reality never pans out quite so romantic.”

“Though I have considered what to do if you lose.”

Altina frowned.

“And what would that be?”

“I’ll draw Sir Jerome’s attention, giving you enough time to leave the fort with a certain knight. I can’t disclose his name just yet—”

He thought she might fly into a rage upon learning he had arbitrarily made preparations to escape should she lose.

But, to his surprise, she burst into laughter. She held her stomach and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“Oh, oh my... Ahahah... Re-Regis... You-You’re too much!! Ahahahah! For you to be that sure I’m going to lose... I never realized it was that bad!”

“I do feel bad for doing this. However, my personal sentiment and objective evaluation are separate matters. Preparing as much as you can to avoid the worst outcome is—”

“Ahahah, you’re right! You’re that sort of guy, and that’s why I need you. This is the levelheaded decision of a strategist.”

“This has nothing to do with strategists. I’m... Er... What even am I anymore?”

He had deviated so far from the duties of a fifth-grade administrative officer.

A dear friend? No, when exactly had he become such good friends with his commander, the imperial princess, Altina? It was foolish for him to misread their rapport as friendship, just because he was allowed to address her by a nickname.

Regis mulled over the idea and fell silent.

Altina had laughed so hard her shoulders were now lifting and falling with each breath. There were gasps for air mixed into her voice.

“Hah, hah... I thought I was going to die... hah... from laughter before the duel. To think you even prepared an escape route for after my loss... Aha... This is terrible.”

“I won’t make any excuses. I can’t find a reason to believe you’ll come out victorious.”

Regis spoke frankly, this time divulging his true feelings.

Altina showed no signs of anger. She simply nodded.

“I know. I already have someone who believes in my victory unconditionally.”

“Ms. Clarisse...?”

“Yes. But I also need someone who doesn’t trust me so blindly. To reach where I’ve set my sights on.”

“...Me?”

“I’m growing increasingly convinced. And in order to earn your trust, I cannot lose this duel.”

Altina had challenged Jerome to gain the trust of the regiment. That included Regis.

“...Could this duel have been avoided had I acted differently?”

“Hmm, perhaps?”

“Urgh...”

His anxiety had spiked by a good thirty percent.

Altina’s hand reached out. She touched the left side of Regis’s chest, her fingertips resting over his heart.

“Mn?”

“I will become empress... Should that dream become unattainable, my life is as good as over. But on this venture, I’ll also be risking the one acting as my tactician.”

No matter what precautions Altina took, should she fail, there was no doubt she wouldn’t be the only one to bear the consequences.

His heart pulsed noticeably faster under her palm, but she continued on regardless.

“To ask you to be my tactician is to ask you to put your very life on the line for me.”

“Yeah...”

Regis understood that as well.

That was precisely why he couldn’t afford to hesitate.

“But, since I’m asking you to risk your life for me, it’s only natural that I wager my own as well. I refuse to become a ruler so foolish she believes loyalty is earned simply by sitting on the throne.”

Altina’s fingers traced up his chest, fleetingly passing along his neck before coming to rest on his cheek.

Her hand was cold to the touch.

“Watch with these eyes. I’ll make you believe in me... And then things will be just as we said that night.”

“...You’ll put as much trust in me as I refuse to put in myself. So I have to believe in you.”

She nodded and slowly pulled back her hand, reaching it toward the large treasured sword leaning against the wall.

She gripped it firmly by the hilt.

“It’s time.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Altina faced Jerome at the center of a circular crowd. They stood ten paces apart.

Snow had piled under their feet, their field of vision becoming white and hazy. None could deny that this was a blizzard.

Still wearing her arm and leg guards, Altina clutched the Grand Tonnerre Quatre—the emperor’s sword—in her hand. The massive blade was unbefitting of such a petite girl.

Jerome, on the other hand, had equipped no armor, instead opting for a black shirt with military pants: His casual wear. He held the sort of short spear a foot soldier might carry in a dense forest. Regis estimated it at around 27 palms (200 cm), roughly the same length as his opponent’s greatsword.

Regis watched from the midst of the surrounding crowd. Beside him was Everard, fully clad in armor.

“They’re calm, both of them.”

“I can tell... How are preparations?”

“Good as done. I had Miss Clarisse wait in the carriage.”

“Thank you.”

That was all that needed to be said on the matter. Everard stroked his beard.

“The margrave is real gutsy. He could’ve taken a light sword for a speed advantage, or a long spear for superior reach, yet he purposefully chose a weapon that puts him at a disadvantage.”

“I’m clueless about the matchup between a sword and a spear... That short spear puts him at a disadvantage?”

“It’s neither long nor light, and’ll break in a single blow.”

“Don’t tell me he’s going to use that as... an excuse if he loses?”

“He picked the weapon himself, so it can’t be used as an excuse. It’s the opposite.”

“He picked it to ensure the princess can’t make any excuses?”

“Correct! Just as she laid down terms and gave three days’ preparation to avoid any excuses for his defeat, the margrave has given himself a handicap to make her own excuses useless. ...It begins.”

“...!!”

The noon bell had chimed, signaling the start of the match.

The shrill clanging of metal echoed through the square.

Most present predicted the young and rash princess would go for an immediate strike, which would then be surely sidestepped by the margrave.

“Uooooooooh!!”

Yet the one who raised a mighty roar as he made his preemptive strike was Jerome.

His feet kicked up snow as he charged forward.

Altina didn’t move—perhaps she couldn’t.

Having closed the distance in the span of a single breath, the margrave thrust out his spear.

“Sei!”

Would the first strike decide it—!? The soldiers followed intently.

“Try again!!” Altina energetically announced.

She twisted the flat of her sword to face the approaching spear.

Jerome let out a groan, almost immediately drowned out by the screams of metal.

The girl had expertly deflected the attack aimed at her shoulder.

“Well, I’ll be... A normal spear can’t even scratch it.”

“Trystie: Faerie silver...” Regis muttered under his breath.

In the days of the wars that founded the nation, there were legends that faeries had bestowed the remarkable metal unto L’Empereur Flamme.

In reality, it was little more than a naturally occurring alloy—at least, that was how modern-day researchers saw it. Of course, no one had actually come across it, but in this era it was common knowledge that mixing together several types of metal could produce materials far stronger than regular iron.

But none had yet managed to produce an alloy that could rival Trystie, so there were inevitably some who still believed it was a blessing from the faeries.

The large sword could thus also serve as a shield for Altina’s small body.

With his preemptive thrust blocked, Jerome pulled back his spear to regain his posture.

But the girl stepped in before he could.

A dull thud reverberated through the square.

“Guh...!?”

A rending kick had struck the back of Jerome’s knees.

The titan’s posture had crumbled.

“Take this seriously, Jerome!” she cried out.

“Grrr!?”

The massive sword swept in from the side. It hadn’t even touched the ground, and yet the snow beneath had completely scattered, the blast wave powerful enough to reach even the furthest surrounding soldiers.

Jerome rolled to evade the strike. Had he taken the blow, not only would his spear have likely been crushed, but his torso as well.

The soldiers watching were astir from this unforeseen development. Who could have guessed the princess’s sword would force the margrave to roll across the floor, staining him with snow and mud?

“...Does that mean she can actually win?”

Everard placed a hold on the hope now surging up in Regis’s chest.

“Things are just getting started!”

Once Jerome had taken some distance and regained his stance, his face grew into a smile.

“Too soft, little lady. You didn’t take me out there... and you’re going to regret it.”

“My goal is to prove I’m stronger than you, not cleave my subordinate in two.”

“Do you have room to hold back?”

“I could ask the same: Why aim for my shoulder? Because you can’t marry the dead?”

“Kukukuh... I can’t deny that.”

“Come at me seriously!”

“Hmph, interesting!”

This time, both sides closed the distance in tandem.

Jerome unleashed a stream of consecutive thrusts, Altina angling her sword to deflect them one by one. Seeing her slender arms effortlessly maneuver the hulking lump of metal as though it were a twig lacked any sense of realism—it was like he was watching a badly-produced play.

Gradually, Altina weaved her own attacks into the fray. Jerome now seemed to be parrying much more frequently.

She’s pushing him back!? Commotion gushed forth from the soldiers.

The atmosphere hadn’t escaped Everard, whose hands now trembled.

“Oooh... To think the princess was this strong... Truly a goddess!”

“Can she win?”

“Nggh!? Hmm... The margrave’s certainly showing restraint in his thrusts. Maybe he’s showing some concern for the princess, but... When she blocks his attacks with her sword, he needs to be able to pull back his strength before the impact to prevent his spear from shattering. In contrast, for him to defend against her attacks, he has no choice but to parry.”

“Because a direct block would break his spear?”

“Correct. He needs to be wary of his weapon on both the offense and defense, so it inevitably looks like the princess controls the pace.”

“But that’s not enough?”

“It is a pity the princess wasn’t born a man.”

“Eh? What does that have to...?”

As he watched, Jerome’s attacks became more and more frequent as Altina resorted to a more defensive stance.

Jerome seemed to have energy to spare. At times he would draw grand arcs with his spear, seemingly for no reason but to flaunt his good health.

In contrast, Altina’s breath was growing shallow. Her shoulders rose and fell.

She lacked stamina.

She may have had the impressive strength needed to swing her colossal sword, but her endurance couldn’t compare to that of the hero, whose build and experience made him a veteran in extended combat. As her movements slackened, she could no longer keep up with the thrusts of the spear.

Its sharp tip grazed the edge of her dress.

In theory, nothing should have changed—Jerome was surely still fighting on thin ice, where one wrong move would break his weapon. But, bit by bit, the tide turned so drastically that it almost seemed he was tormenting her.

Her dress torn, Altina’s shoulder was lain bare. Thin beads of blood oozed from her pale skin.

“Hah... Hah...”

“Not bad. I thought you’d be on the floor by now, little lady.”

“I won’t surrender just because I’m a bit short of breath.”

“Hm, I’ll admit it. There aren’t many in this fort who could keep up with me this long. Not to mention at your age. Give it a few years and you’ll be a fine swordsman.”

“Hah... Hah... A swordsman? Have you knocked your head? What I demand is for you to recognize me as your commander.”

“With the strength you’ve shown, your orders should pass far easier than before. You’re not on my level, but they should treat you as a deputy commander, to say the least.”

“In that... case... I can’t quit just yet!”

Altina brandished her greatsword on high, kicking the snow back as she advanced.

Down came the blade.

“Hyaaaaaaaah!!”

“Good grief... Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

The sword smashed into the ground, raising a cloud of white smoke. A deafening rumble erupted from the earth as though lightning had struck.

Jerome avoided the attack, lunging forward to counter.

“Sei!!”

“Hee-yah!”

The sword sprung from its resting place in the earth. It shot straight at the spear darting toward her.

But before it could connect, Jerome pulled his entire body back, weapon and all.

The blade passed through thin air.

He had read her. Her footing was now unsteady; the blow she had poured her remaining stamina into had missed.

Such an opening could not be overlooked, and so followed a horizontal strike from the shaft of Jerome’s spear.

With no time to dodge, Altina took the blow with her left arm. She was knocked off her feet.

“Aguh!?” The guard that had protected the girl’s upper arm shattered.

Regis squirmed his way forward.

“Altina!?” he called.

The girl tumbled wildly through the snow. That’s the match, he thought.

But the sword wouldn’t leave her hand. She immediately stood.

“Hah... Hah... Hah... Kuh... Hah...”

Her eyes, blazing orbs of fire, fixed on her foe. Blood spilled from her upper left arm, dyeing her dress sleeve and gauntlet in red. Her arm slumped down, exhausted, drained of all power.

Perhaps she had fractured it. Perhaps it was paralyzed from pain.

Her greatsword was now supported by her right hand alone.

It seemed impossible for her to fight on. And yet, her expression showed no consideration of defeat.

Jerome, who’d taken his distance again, stuck his spear into the ground and relaxed his stance, though not dropping his guard completely. He spoke casually:

“Do you want to continue?”

“Of course... Hah... Haha... I can’t give up here...”

“Even when you’re down to one arm?”

“Would you... nkh... resign on the battlefield, just because... hah... one arm wouldn’t move?”

“Hmph, admirable spirit. But what will you do if you become commander? Little lady, can you shoulder the lives of the three thousand men of this border regiment?”

“Hah... Hah... So you think I challenged you without that resolve...? Nggkh... You’re thinking too little of me. I’ll show you I can shoulder a nation!”

Altina raised the sword with her right hand. Regis was surely not the only one reminded of the legend of L’Empereur Flamme, wielding his trusted greatsword with just one hand.

The soldiers were astir.

Jerome did not retrieve his spear, but instead offered a verbal counter that was equally as sharp.

“You mean to tell me an inexperienced little girl... can issue orders more effectively than I can? This isn’t a matter of spirit. I’m asking if you have the skills! One single mistake, and hundreds, thousands of soldiers’ lives will be wasted. Do you understand that!?”

“...Kh!?”

Altina, whose body had surpassed its limit with pain and fatigue, and who was barely maintaining herself through force of will alone, was finally shaken up. The girl’s crimson eyes wavered.

Her gaze prowled the crowd before eventually resting on a single point.

Jerome followed her eyes. The soldiers who were watching did the same. So many eyes; so much interest gathered. Even Everard beside him.

Nearly everyone in the plaza was looking; he felt like the pressure might crush him to death. He was coming under the illusion that a person’s gaze carried physical force. The boisterous voices that had surrounded him just moments ago faded further and further away.

Regis held his chest.

He could hear nothing but his heart, which pounded ferociously in his ears.

Why had it come to this? What had he done?

Right, it was that night. When Altina said she would believe in me, I didn’t reject her. Was that it!? Was that why she’d go so far for someone as useless as me!?

I don’t know this situation.

I don’t understand it.

I’ve never read about anything like this before.

See? Don’t you see now, Altina!? I can’t do a thing.

I can hardly even breathe. I’m going to pass out.

In his hazy consciousness, Regis looked back at Altina.

Her lips were moving. The surrounding ruckus prevented him from hearing her voice, but he could clearly trace the words with his eyes.

I. Be. Lieve. In. You.

Yes, this really was—

“What a troublesome princess, good grief.”

Regis stepped forward as he continued, the snow crunching under his feet.

“...Your Highness, that is not what you’d call ‘belief.’ It is simply a combination of abandoned thought, unearned entitlement, and baseless expectations. Using such an unreasonable ideal to encourage someone to take on an obstacle beyond their limits... Such irrationality has birthed countless tragedies throughout history. How lamentable.”

He spoke with a mixture of sighs and groans, his strained voice barely forced from his throat.

“How truly lamentable... You’ve gotten me to take on a challenge that is beyond me. I’m crying at my own foolishness.”

Regis slipped out of the ring of soldiers, alone, and walked to Altina’s side.

She laughed in a chipped voice.

“Thank you, Regis.”

“...Too early for that.”

Letting off a murderous air, Jerome greeted him with a voice that resonated from the depths of the earth.

“What did you come here for? I told you, you’re an insignificant apple mixed in among the prime cuts.”

“My apologies, Margrave, but while I may be a bit role to you, it seems I’m something else to another... I promise you my counsel. Princess, if you win this duel, I, Regis Aurick, will be your tactician!”

Tactician!?

Surprise spread among the soldiers.

Regis’s basic ability had been recognized in the bandit incident, and while he hadn’t gained any widespread trust, no one found him particularly incompetent.

There were voices that questioned the height of his rank as a fifth-grade administrative officer, but they were not the majority. Rank-wise, the princess did score highest, after all.

Jerome lifted his spear from the earth, directing its point at him.

“Can you do it? With no ambition, no courage, and no spine!?”

“...I-I’ll admit, I don’t believe in myself. I have no confidence. But there is someone who said she believed in me. As long as she believes, I want to give it a shot.”

After he had been shown such resolve, Regis wasn’t brazen enough to give some excuse and decline. He hadn’t spoken up with the intention of spurring the princess on—no, his desire to aid her on the path she had chosen came from the heart.

“...I will be her tactician. And I must remind you, Sir Jerome, that should the princess win, you promised you would serve under her. The command structure below that development won’t change, so the competency of this fort shouldn’t diminish at all, should it?”

“Mh... All talk, as usual. I understand your point. Now get lost! The duel isn’t settled.”

“Very well.”

Regis slowly parted from the two and returned to the circle.

Jerome readied his stance once more.

“Hmph. Break time’s over, little lady.”

“What’s with that? I wasn’t buying time, nor did I ask for a rest. You’re the one who hesitated, going on about command and such.”

“You’re right. I didn’t expect this development... I tried one of those peaceful resolution things for once, but... the time for words is over. The little lady has the will and the resolve, and a freebie staff officer to boot. I recognize that you have the caliber to command this regiment. But that doesn’t mean I’ll lose here!”

“This duel wasn’t to show my will or resolve... it was to show my strength!”

“I’ll crush you!”

Both sides screamed, the atmosphere quivering under their pressure.

The conversation had afforded it a little rest, but Altina’s left arm was still dangling powerlessly.

She used her right alone to raise the sword...

And launched the first strike.

“HYAAAAAAAAH!!”

An ear-rending battle cry.

She converted the momentum of the falling sword into a horizontal slash. She stepped in deep, keeping the attack at waist height. A strike that was hard to parry and hard to dodge.

Jerome nodded.

“I knew it, that’s all you can do. You don’t have the strength left to handle that blade more nimbly.”

The slash was aimed to cleave his torso.

But the margrave leaped into the air with inhuman dexterity, easily clearing the blade.

Had he ducked to avoid, perhaps she could have used the sword’s weight to arc the swipe downward. But this way, that weight would work against her.

Carried by the empty swing, Altina’s body was pulled into a half-turn. She had opened her defenseless back to the enemy.

That’s the match over, a majority surely thought. Not only the soldiers, but Jerome as well. A thrust to her nape, and he would be the victor.

He prepared to land, ready to strike, when his plan was suddenly complicated by something he hadn’t anticipated—

Altina continued to turn.

“Aaaaaaaaah!!”

“There’s more...!?”

In one revolution, the empty swing came at him again as another horizontal slash. It was even faster than before.

With great acceleration, the sword encroached on his flank.

Jerome grit his teeth.

“Tssk!!”

He readied his spear at an incline to divert the attack.

The metallic clang that followed was louder than any other before it. The blade scraped along the spear, its trajectory turned aside from its intended path.

Altina’s right arm creaked painfully as she put all her might into twisting the swipe into Jerome’s weapon.

“Shatter!!”

But the greatsword proved unable to break the spear down the middle, instead sliding down its length. A conspicuously loud chime rang out as the blade collided with the spear’s tip, shearing it from the shaft. An inconvenience, no doubt, but not enough to class the weapon as unusable.

This time, Altina’s balance crumbled as she collapsed onto the ground. She smacked face first into the field of disturbed snow, scattering white in every direction. It was unsightly, but no one laughed at this display.

The soldiers gulped and watched closely as Jerome raised the spear shaft in both hands.

All he had to do was swing it down and stop it right over her head. That was it. There was no need to strike the already collapsed little girl.

Regis had forgotten to breathe.

The short spear came down, let off a dry sound...

...and snapped.

Right in Jerome’s hand, it broke like the dead branch of a withered tree.

“What...!?”

Jerome was at a loss for words, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone watching had lost their voices.

All that remained in the man’s hands was a stick around the size of a dagger. There was nothing preventing him from continuing the fight, but his spear had broken.

Altina remained collapsed in the snow.

“Fuu... Fuu... Uuu...”

She tried her hardest to pick herself up, but her left arm wouldn’t move, and her right no longer had the strength to support her weight.

Her legs and shoulders trembled; there was no way she could continue to hold her weapon.

The soldiers watched, unblinking.

Jerome took his broken spear, and in one clean movement...

...he tossed it aside.

“Hmph... My weapon broke in a fair duel. Is there any worse way to lose?”

The soldiers began to clamor over those words—his admission of loss.

The general lost?

The princess won?

Shock and excitement rippled through the crowd.

Was Altina, her face still in the snow, able to understand the situation?

Everard asked, just to make sure.

“Then, Sir Jerome... you accept this as the princess’s victory?”

“Are you deaf?”

His sharp retort made the knight captain deeply lower his head. The soldiers raised screams and jeers at this final act no one had anticipated. Some even cheered.

It was an uproar great enough to shake the entire fort.

Regis hurried over to Altina.

“Princess, you won. Please, stand up... This is the important part!”

“Uurrghh...”

She nodded.

Her stamina had been expended well beyond its limit.

The blood from her left shoulder continued to trickle onto the now-pink patch of snow below.

Even so, if she collapsed here, the duel would lose all meaning.

Altina propped herself up.

“Hah... Hah... Right... The loser, Jerome, standing... kuh... while the victor is down... What a laughingstock I’d be.”

“......”

Regis silently nodded. Her strong will and relentless efforts had caused a peculiar heat to rise in his chest.

The declaration had come late, but his expression of sentiment in the midst of the duel had been no mistake. He would believe in this girl. He would continue to believe.

Regis wiped the now warm corners of his eyes.

Altina stood. She spread out her slender, white fingers and lifted them up toward the heavens. It was a quiet, beautiful proclamation of victory.

The surrounding noise grew even louder.

In the intense turmoil, Altina spoke only to Regis, who stood right beside her.

“Hey...”

“Yes?”

She reached her quivering right hand to grasp Regis’s shoulder.

“How was that? Do you feel like trusting me now?”

He nodded. He would not waver again.

“...Yeah, I’ll believe in you. I promise.”

“All right, it’s a promise.”

Altina smiled from ear to ear. Her face was like a clear spring day.

✧ ✧ ✧

The plaza, where the heat of the duel refused to subside, was like an unplanned, unprecedented festival. The noise showed no signs of dying down.

It was then that the echo of bells reverberated through the square.

The source of the ringing was no mystery. They came from the highest watchtower on the fort.

These bells had chimed before, time and time again.

The soldiers stood dumbfounded, at first not understanding what they could mean. The plaza’s clamor faded until they could hear the voice from the watchtower.

“Enemy attack!! Enemy attack!! Barbarians from the northern front!!”

The barbarians were using the cover of the blizzard to attack!?

Unrest and tension spread almost instantly through the troops, who immediately looked to Jerome.

“Margrave!” Regis yelled.

This was the only moment they had to establish the new relationship between him and the princess. If they didn’t demonstrate their shifted position here, it would render the match the girl had staked her life on pointless.

“...Settle down... I understand.”

Jerome walked to Altina.

He set a knee down on the snow.

“Princess, the enemy is here! Your orders!”

The soldiers watched in a daze, before hurriedly emulating him.

With Altina at the center, troops fell to their knees one after the next. The wave spread like a ripple on the water’s surface. The change in their cognition was amply conveyed.

The girl’s resolve had borne fruit.

Everard was among the ones on their knees, a wide grin spread across his face.

Altina was exhausted beyond measure. Her legs shook, and she continued clinging to Regis simply because she feared she would collapse should they part.

Regis whispered in her ear. After a nod, she issued the orders.

“Sir Jerome, I order you. Lead one hundred cavalry as the vanguard to meet the enemy. Discern their strength, and if possible, construct a battle front... If the enemy is too numerous, return with the safety of our troops as the priority!”

“As you will it!!” The general nodded and stood. “You lot, we’ve been ordered to sortie! Ready the horses, and bring me my lance! I’ll wring the neck of any trash that dawdles!”

The soldiers moved obediently under Jerome’s command.

Success. They had managed to display the princess’s new standing.

Regis placed a hand on Altina’s nearly crumpling back to support her.

“Hold on, a bit longer... Can you walk to the central tower?”

“O-Of course I can...”

He very much wanted to avoid the victor being carried off on a stretcher while the loser led the charge. She had to hold on for now.

Everard rushed over.

“You sure you don’t have to take her to the infirmary?”

“The infirmary won’t make for a noble sight... We’ll go to her bedroom under the pretense of a change of clothing. I’ll call the doctor to treat her there.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Ah, if we don’t bring the sword...”

“I’ll order my men to get it.”

“Thank you. The enemy is using the blizzard to launch a surprise attack—there shouldn’t be too many of them. Our response was swift, so best case scenario we can drive them off with the vanguard...”

“What shall I do?”

“Mr. Everard, please prepare the second wave. Two hundred cavalry, on standby.”

“Standby? We shouldn’t go out, even if we’re ready?”

“A battlefront has yet to be solidified. Perhaps the vanguard will be forced to run, perhaps it’ll become a free-for-all... Please see how it develops before heading out. Otherwise, you’ll disrupt the first unit.”

“I see... Understood. Leave it to me!”

Everard gathered the knights.

They would have to prepare the infantry as the third wave. There likely wasn’t any need for orders on the defense of the fort.

Under normal circumstances, he would have sought out the opinion of Jerome, who was well versed in how this regiment fought. But in order to display Altina’s status, he could only dare to have him sortie.

His decision had been driven by politics this time. On a strategic level, the best plan would be to hold up in the fort until the enemy’s strength had been accurately ascertained, then send out a perfectly prepared corps to meet them.

But such textbook examples and chess strategies could never be applied so rigidly to a real battle.

Jerome’s vanguard left through the front gate; soldiers with weapons in hand raced to their stations; the knights ordered to carry the Grand Tonnerre Quatre hurried to the central tower.

The only ones moving slowly were an injured Altina, and Regis, who was holding her up.

A weak voice passed her lips.

“I’m... all right... so... Regis, focus on command...”

Was her terrible complexion due to fatigue? The cold? Loss of blood?

Regis put all his efforts into a composed smile, a bluff he maintained to put her at ease.

“Don’t worry, Altina. This situation is one I know a thing or two about. It’ll be fine, just leave it to me.”

“...You sound confident.”

“Of course.”

“Not like you at all.”

“R-Right...”

She saw through him all too easily. He evidently didn’t have the talent to be an actor.

Good grief, Regis thought.

“Yes, I’ll admit, I wanted more time to get a grasp on our forces. Additionally, I wanted to sortie after confirming the barbarians’ scope... But sending Sir Jerome before the enemy could deliver an arrow to our gate was not a terrible decision. I think we can fend off this surprise attack. It’ll work out... Probably.”

“I see. That’s good.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Perfectly fine... Hey, Regis...”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. When I was being questioned, and you said you’d be my tactician... It made me pretty happy.”

“I should be the one thanking you. I’ve wanted to say it for a while now, but... Altina, thank you for trusting in me.”

The main gate opened with a heavy noise. The bugle was blown, signaling the advance of the second wave. The battle cries of several hundred men amalgamated into one mighty roar.

Regis stood at Altina’s side, watching the soldiers charge onto the battlefield.

To be continued...