“...So long as they are acquired justly, even the smallest indulgences may be enjoyed from the heart. However, those who work ill deeds will be tormented by guilt no matter how extravagant the luxury. Sir Jerome, you’ve heard me out to the end, so I have one question for you—between just and unjust, which do you think will obtain true happiness?”
“......”
Jerome grit his teeth so hard it was almost audible. The animosity in his eyes pierced Regis like a spear, so foul it drew associations to a beast of legend whose gaze could turn a man to stone.
He thought his heart might stop, but he continued to hold his ground, desperately containing the urge to run.
Altina, on the other hand, coldly returned the glare.
“Can’t answer, Sir Jerome?”
“Tsk... Your dull lecture ruined the damn wine.”
He tossed his bottle aside, and with that same motion reached his hand toward a pitchfork that had been stabbed into the hay. The fork was a farm tool about the size of a spear—merely an implement used to gather and carry hay to horses.
Yet in Jerome’s hands, it seemed more like a trident.
He barely caught the sound of something slicing through the wind, when—
An apple was impaled mid-air, right before his eyes.
The pitchfork’s sharp metal prongs stopped just short of Regis’s nose.
“Woah!?”
“Kukukuh... You talk all high and mighty, but that’s it. You’re nothing but talk!”
“Guh...”
Regis adopted a defensive stance, though it served little purpose. The disparity in ability was much too great. Even without a weapon in hand, this man could kill him with no effort whatsoever.
He felt a bead of sweat trail down his spine. Had he made a grave mistake? While Jerome showed off a wild attitude, Regis had appraised him as someone who could hold a conversation.
No, he had already discerned it from their exchange. This man was not someone who would use violence without reason. In which case, what was he trying to achieve? Regis’s mind thumbed through the books he had read before. There were a number of possibilities, and as he hesitated over which course of action to take, Altina moved.
The young girl now stood between them, protecting Regis like a shield.
She brushed aside the pitchfork with her left hand, and cast her right on the hilt of her sword.
“Quit acting childish, Sir Jerome! Is losing an argument enough to make you resort to violence?”
“You think I lost!? You say I’m a loser!?”
Jerome spun the pitchfork. The wind howled.
The next thrust shot out toward Altina’s chest.
Something white went flying with a resolute snap. It was one of the buttons decorating the front of her dress.
“Gnn...” Altina frowned.
“Kukukuh... What’s wrong, little lady? If this were the battlefield, you’d be dead.”
“If you had any real intent to kill me, that is.”
“...Hmph.”
The two glared at each other, unmoving.
“Did you think I’d run and cower?”
“Hmph... Never at a loss for words, are you?”
While his attempts to intimidate Altina were unmistakable, it was also clear that Jerome had no intention of causing any damage.
Regis observed silently.
He’s not the sort of man who would hurt a little girl over heightened emotions. If such was in his nature, things would have turned violent much sooner. He may be putting on airs of hostility, but he’s still carrying a rational conversation with us.
If he cared for his reputation, he would have at least made his drinking and wallowing more discreet. If he was driven by continued financial gain, he would have tried to cover up his embezzlement.
Yet he did neither.
In which case, did he no longer care? Had he thrown all apprehensions to the wayside? It was possible, given his circumstances, but... had he really been someone so apathetic to consequence, he would have ended the conversation long ago.
Jerome evidently had some reason to endure this annoying sermon to the end.
“...Are you testing us?”
“What?” Jerome’s eyes sharpened.
Regis carefully chose his angle.
Rather than discerning the margrave’s character, he was better off prioritizing his initial objective. He had stumbled across a bountiful thicket, but lacked the preparation to handle the snake coiled within.
He quelled the beat of his heart and steadied his breath.
“Princess... My business here is done. I now understand why this fort has no administrative officers.”
“I see. Well, I didn’t come here to glare,” Altina nodded.
Jerome looked at them dubiously.
“Was there something else? You think you can order me around?”
“It’s about the bandits. I think our current methods are incapable of solving the problem; we need a different strategy. I want you to mobilize the troops to carry it out.”
“A different strategy?”
“I was originally looking for you to ask about that.”
“...Hmph. Ridiculous.”
“What exactly are you calling ridiculous?”
“I don’t know what foolish song that admin officer charmed you with, but it’s a theory that’ll only work on paper. No matter what you do, you’re not going to catch such elusive bandits! Just leave it be. The merchants’ losses aren’t our concern; it’s their job to hire guards.”
“What are you talking about!? Protecting citizens is an army’s duty!”
“Enough with your lofty ideals, little lady. You know as well as I do, it’s impossible with the number of soldiers at this fort. Don’t drag my soldiers around on some wild goose chase!”
Jerome cast down the pitchfork and turned on his heels.
Altina released the hilt of her sword.
She’d never drawn it in the end. Perhaps she had merely succumbed to his pressure, but... with Regis’s lack of close combat acumen, that was not something he could say for sure.