Twenty thousand Germanian soldiers had marched across the northern border, confronted by thirty thousand men from the imperial army. They would meet on the eponymous plains of Erstein.
The Germanian Federation was a gathering of nations, big and small, assembled around the kingdom of San Preussen. They waged wars amongst themselves day in and day out, and it was for this reason that their territories were impoverished. But these conditions also meant their soldiers were superior, well trained and well equipped.
The enemy vanguard consisted of just under three thousand heavy cavalry. They painted their armor gold, a symbol of honor, their column charging like the thrust of a lance.
The Belgarian Empire’s men were overpowered by their momentum. They had aimed right between the armies of two nobles, each intending to leave the matter to the other and flee—causing the empire’s front to crumble like curdled cheese.
Once their formation was breached, their main camp was laid bare for all to see. Not only that, the enemy could now pincer the main force from the front and back. When that happened, the troops would lose their solidarity and rout. The Belgarian army was on the brink of defeat.
The enemy column only gained force as it advanced, with nothing to impede it save for one brigade adorned in pitch black. Jerome’s own troops—only five hundred cavalry. It was the young viscount himself leading the charge.
Those who watched him wondered if he was buying time for the main force to regroup, laying down his life for his nation, but that could not be further from the truth.
The Black Knight, Jerome, took down heavy cavalry one after another. With their valorous general at the lead, the black troops pressed straight down the length of the enemy column, thoroughly dismantling it along the way.
While the Federation’s army frantically called upon their left and right wings to defend them, they could not make it in time to stop the cavalry charge.
✧ ✧ ✧
“—And thus, Sir Jerome’s charge continued straight to the enemy camp. He led the Belgarian army to victory and became the ‘Hero of Erstein.’ His achievements in the battle saw him promoted from a first-grade combat officer to a brigadier general. This all happened when he was twenty.”
“N-No way, he was that incredible!? I find that hard to believe...”
Altina furrowed her brow, a conflicted look across her face.
Clarisse, on the other hand, remained expressionless. “He doesn’t look like that sort of person. Not anymore, at least,” she offered.
“Really? What’s he like at the fort? I haven’t met him yet, but I hear he’s elegant, handsome, and terribly popular among the noble ladies...”
Clarisse stayed silent and Altina let out a groan.
“Gahh, you’re probably better off seeing for yourself.”
“I see, so he’s not doing great... Well, his fortunes did wane once he received his commission.”
“What happened?”
“Those who progress through the ranks because of their own skill are naturally envied and scorned by others who bought their way into such positions. It took less than half a year for those who once revered Sir Jerome as a hero to grow anxious over his repeated accomplishments. He was given the title of margrave along with this northern territory... to send him far, far away from his homeland, the capital.”
It was officially recognised as a “reward,” a great honor that even included the renaming of the land to Jerome’s surname, Beilschmidt. However, the prestige granted to him was clearly meant to curb his streak of achievements. The name of the hero Jerome soon faded from the public’s mind.
Altina downed her now-lukewarm tea.
“I see... A common tale...”
Had she compared it with her own circumstances? Her finger traced the edge of her cup as she sunk into her thoughts.
“...You really didn’t know?”
“I didn’t. I could tell he was strong, but Everard and the others won’t tell me anything about him.”
“...Princess, you’re quite treasured in the fort, so you’ve been distanced from any stories that might upset you,” Clarisse delicately stated as fact.
“Are they really showing such consideration? I may not get along with Sir Jerome, but an old story isn’t going to ruin my day.”
“You might see it that way... However, Princess, the soldiers see you as a dear guest, not a comrade.”
“Oh, Clarisse. We may not be on the closest terms, but we can’t be that distant. Surely.”
“Do you think so? That story Mr. Regis just told... I’d already heard it from the soldiers, you see.”
“Excuse me, what!?” Altina raised her voice, aghast by the bombshell Clarisse had so nonchalantly dropped. The maid returned a sickly-sweet grin.
“I’m easy to get along with, after all.”
“Wha—!? You make it sound like I’m completely unapproachable!”
“Perish the thought. You’re a princess, Princess. Not anyone nor anything else.”
“Err... That’s true, but... Umm?”
“Rest easy. Even if the fort’s soldiers keep you at arm’s length, you have me. I’m your only ally, Princess. You’re my princess and mine alone... Ufufufu.”
“Y-Yeah. Thanks... I guess?”
Clarisse had dispelled Altina’s steam as if by magic. While Regis was sure he had heard some pretty off-putting statements mixed into her response, given this maid, it was possible that they could have been jokes.
He took back control of the conversation.
“...Well, that’s about all I know of Sir Jerome. It’s only natural for the soldiers to trust him over you. He was originally a general who should be commanding a division or an army, not a small border regiment.”
“Guh... I get the picture. Even I don’t think I’m more trustworthy. But I’ll change that soon enough!”
“An excellent retort. In the books I read, it’s often said by throwaway characters, but...”
Altina stared at him with a sullen face.
“We’re dropping this issue. Just think about how to deal with the bandits.”
“Yeaaah... We’ll need a number of troops just to take the bandits in. If possible, I’d rather use foot soldiers than knights. And to do that... it looks like I’ll need Sir Jerome to give the order.”
Regis dropped his gaze to the floor. Given his relationship with Altina and the fact he had driven out all the previous administrative officers, he would undoubtedly be a difficult man to deal with. Honestly, he didn’t have much hope.
“This is a good opportunity! Let’s have a firm talk with Sir Jerome.” Altina shot up from her chair. “I’m sure he’s not satisfied with the status quo either.”
“You’re optimistic.”
“Of course! It’s better than getting yourself down,” she said with a smile.
✧ ✧ ✧
Altina led Regis from the officer dining hall on the first floor of the central tower to Jerome’s personal room. Clarisse remained, saying she had other work to attend to.
Walking down the stone corridor that echoed with each step, Altina eagerly struck up conversation.
“You’re quite liked, you know.”
“By what demographic?”
“By Clarisse. You couldn’t tell?”
“You sure you’re not mistaken? She was one-sidedly teasing me.”
“She only jokes with people she feels comfortable around. It’s proof she’s in a good mood. Clarisse is usually silent and hides in the back whenever she’s not called for.”
“Silent!? Hides!?”
“That’s right. She never even smiles. She’s like a doll.”
“...Was the person I spoke to a different maid who shares her name? Or are you in cahoots, teasing me too? I can’t trust anyone anymore.”
“Ahahah!” Altina laughed like a child as she ascended the spiral staircase.
They arrived at Jerome’s room on the third floor of the center tower. Altina knocked on the undecorated wooden door several times—to no avail.
She sullenly tapered her lips.
“Looks like he’s out.”
“If he’s effectively the commander, he must be a busy man.”
“Mnn, I doubt he’s that enthusiastic about his job, but... so be it. I’ll show you around the fort as we search for Sir Jerome!”
“That would be a huge help.”
“This way, Regis! C’mon, hurry up!” Altina raced off.
She boarded the stairs again, climbing all the way up to the top floor.
Regis gasped for breath.
The top floor was a conference room with a black table. Given the map on the wall, the imperial flag, and the bare stone floor... this was a room steeped in the air of war. The wear and tear of the conference table from a lifetime of good use served as a stark reminder that this was the frontmost line.
“Over here!”
Altina cut through the room to throw open a large window, the shutters slamming open with a loud thud. The wind that flooded in caused the map and flag to flap wildly. The outside of the conference room jutted out into a balcony.
Altina’s hair fluttered behind her as she stepped out, glimmering as it bathed in the sun’s rays.
“Here, look!” She pointed off into the distance.
“I’m not good with high places...”
“Oh yeah? Then how would you fancy being shoved off of one?”
“Yeah, yeah...” He followed her onto the balcony.
Regis’s hair was swept back by winds that carried a distinct, earthy aroma. He swallowed his breath at the scene spread out before him.