“Ufufu... It’s a story about a maid who receives terrible abuse from a vile master, when one day her fairy godmother shows up. Very romantic, you know.”
I’ve definitely read that fairytale, Regis thought, nodding along.
“And then she uses her magic to let her go to the ball, right?” he asked.
“Eh? What are you talking about? She uses offensive magic to tear the vile master to shreds.”
“Where’s the romance in that!? That’s a pretty conspicuous use of magic, too. Are you by any chance discontent with your current treatment?”
Magic was a product of fiction that only existed within the pages of books, so he gathered she was being facetious. That being said, he couldn’t help but feel something dark lurking beneath the tale.
“Ahaha, you’ve got it all wrong. The princess is a good kid, and while war is scary the fort is pretty safe. I just don’t have any hope for the future.” She laughed dryly.
For a maid, she had a very sharp tongue.
“Let me introduce myself.” She curtseyed politely. “I am the princess’s personal maid, Clarisse. Please address me as ‘Oi’ or ‘That wench.’”
“I definitely won’t be doing that! Hah... Please pardon me in addressing you as Ms. Clarisse. My name is Regis Aurick.”
“Oh, Regis! I’ve heard loads about you from the princess.”
“You have? What did you hear?”
“You let her use the only blanket in the middle of a blizzard, you shared your only roll of bread, and you stood bravely against a pack of gray wolves. I think that’s wonderful.”
“Wow... You’re making me blush. ...Anything else?”
“Your sword skills are worse than those of a child, and you are completely devoid of resource management skills to the extent that you’d spend your entire salary on books if left unchecked.”
“Ouch. Sorry.” He regretted asking.
Clarisse smiled with seemingly no ill intent.
“So, do you have any business with me? I’m actually pretty busy, you know. ...Aha, just kidding!” She probably had no ill intent. Probably.
“...Do you know who my commanding officer is, by chance?”
“I don’t really get informed about that sorta thing.”
“I see... In that case, do you know where Altina—ah, sorry—where the princess is right now?”
“Fufu... I’ve already heard about the nickname, don’t you worry about that. Oh, but please be careful using it around people other than the princess and myself.”
“Is that how it works? As I thought... Is it rare for her to allow someone to use her nickname?”
I should be especially cautious around those knights in the courtyard, he thought.
“She’d probably grant me the privilege if I asked... The only other person I know of who uses it is her mother.”
That was even fewer people than he’d anticipated. Regis was more bewildered than delighted by the fact.
“But... Why—?”
“You’re asking why the princess has no friends? I’d say that’s down to her personality.”
“You really are virulent... That’s not what I meant. Why did she permit me to use her nickname? As royalty, perhaps she is unaccustomed to people asking for her name, but she should have been expecting it while dressed up as a coachman. I highly doubt I’m the first commoner she’s ever met...”
Clarisse tilted her head.
“I couldn’t tell you what goes through her head, but... don’t you think she thought of you as a confidant of sorts? Despite how she looks, she’s in a surprisingly harsh position, after all.”
“A confidant...”
“Yes. The only other would be her mother.”
“D-Did I do anything to earn that level of trust...?”
Regis reflected on his meeting with the red-haired girl. She had declared he was an idiot when he spent a fortune on a book—did that have anything to do with it?
“Well, you make plenty of mistakes when you’re young.” Clarisse dismissively waved her hand with a laugh.
“Wait, did you just conclude that her placing trust in me was little more than a mistake of youth? I can’t really prove otherwise, but isn’t that a bit hasty!?”
“Just kidding, Mr. Regis! You react to every little thing I say, so I couldn’t help but see how far I could push your buttons!”
“Please don’t tease me...”
“Whenever I try and chat about her with Everard and his men, it’s always just, ‘Right! Truly a goddess.’ Talk about a boring answer.”
“Yeah, he did give off that kind of impression...”
Regis gave a wry smile as he recalled the topless knight commander shedding sweat in the courtyard. The image also made him realize how far the conversation had been derailed, so he asked again where he could find Altina.
“She went out, though she should be back soon,” Clarisse said with a glance at the clock on the wall.
“Outside the fort? I suppose she won’t be back any time soon if she went to town. Given her diligent attitude, I doubt she went off to play... Is she out hunting or on recon?”
“Something like that. By the way—everyone’s already had breakfast, Mr. Regis, but how about you?”
“I appreciate it. Truth be told, I’m so hungry I almost feel on the verge of collapsing.”
“Oh really? What a terrible situation you’re in. Such a pity, especially when there’s so long to go till lunch...”
“Was that not where you were supposed to offer me breakfast!?”
“Ahaha. Fine, very well. I’ll make an exception.”
While Clarisse appeared to do nothing but mess around, she was seemingly quite skilled at her job—it didn’t take long before she was back with food: soft bread and chicken stew. Quite luxurious, considering this was the front lines.
“This is a pleasant surprise...”
“Take your time.” Leaving with a smile, Clarisse returned to her own work. She hummed her tune while sweeping the floor.
Regis took his time, savoring the taste of his meal.
✧ ✧ ✧
Just as he was finishing his late breakfast, Altina popped her face into the dining hall.
“Oh, Regis. Looks like you’re still kicking. Good on you.”
“Thanks to you.”
She wasn’t dressed as a coachman today, nor was she carrying her treasured sword. She wore a white, fanciful one-piece dress, minimally armored with arm and shoulder guards. Her long red hair was braided behind her while a normal longsword hung at her waist.
She carried a snow-white overcoat under her arm, which her maid Clarisse took with a curtsey.
“Welcome back, Princess.”
“Thank you, Clarisse. Could you brew some tea?”
“Of course.”
After another curtsey, the maid made for the kitchen with almost silent steps. She was acting, surprisingly, like a proper maid.
Altina lowered herself down into the seat across from Regis.
“Hah, it was hopeless...”
“I heard you went out.”
“I was patrolling the highway. Bandits have been targeting our caravans for a while now.”
“Come to think of it, I heard about that a few times on my trip here. You’re more likely to get attacked the further you are from the capital.”
The worsening of public order on the highway was causing a steep increase in the price of goods near the border. A high cost was required to cover the value of missing goods and hired guards.
“We’re getting more complaints from peddlers and citizens.”
“Does this have anything to do with the rumor that some barbarians slipped through?”
“Who can say? We haven’t seen heads or tails of them. They could be anyone for all we know. Even if we utilized every soldier in this fort, it’d be impossible to guard every caravan.”
“And yet the commander herself is on patrol from this early in the morning, when you’d be the coldest and sleepiest? That should be the least desirable timeslot.”
“Precisely. Because everyone detests it, the commander should take the initiative.”
“Oh... You’re quite something.”
“Though it’s not like I want to do it, either. Those bandits can all go to hell.”
“Can’t disagree with that.”
After all, books would be significantly cheaper if the roads became safer to navigate.
Altina spent some time slamming her full range of colorful vocabulary against these shapeless bandits. Once the well had run dry, Regis changed the topic.
“On another note, I’d like to greet my direct superior. Do you know who that is? Has it not been decided yet?”
“Your direct superior... would be an administrative officer above yourself, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Then you don’t have one.”
“Huh? You mean there aren’t any who want me?”
“No, I mean there aren’t any administrative officers in this fort. That is, apart from you.”
At first, Regis failed to comprehend what she had just said. He was momentarily stunned.
“...Beg... your... pardon?” He finally managed to squeeze out some words.
“This regiment was originally under the command of General Margrave Jerome Jean de Beilschmidt and, half a year ago, he chased them all out.”
“W-What is the meaning of this!? A war can’t be fought with combat officers alone... Who’s managing finance and logistics? Battle records and reports? Tax collection and submission?”
“The margrave’s steward is taking care of it.”