The sky hung heavy with clouds the dull gray of lead. Quite the familiar sight, Regis mused. The same dreary atmosphere had loomed overhead on the day he received the decree banishing him to the border.
His eyes returned to the land. While the sky above had indeed been recognizable, the town ahead bore few similarities to the capital. He felt no lingering attachment to the marble, the brick and the streetlamps he had grown so accustomed to, but the narrow, walled streets ahead did bring a prison to mind.
This was the border town of Theonveil, over a hundred lieue (444 km) from the capital and a five-day trip by carriage. The streets were dim despite it being the height of noon, and the air carried a cold, stinging bite. This wasn’t unusual for a town in the northern outskirts of the nation during the midst of winter, but Regis couldn’t help but see the weather as an apt metaphor for the road ahead.
Am I a failure? he wondered. He had lost his lord, his standing and his future, and to add further insult to injury had been exiled to the front lines in the north.
“Can’t complain, I guess... Life isn’t all about promotions. I’ll get more time to read out here.”
The caravan arrived just as the church was ringing its afternoon bell. As his fellow travelers scattered in search of lunch, Regis made a beeline for one particular shop that couldn’t have been further from an eatery.
Its windows were lined with books, and the wooden door gave way to rows of packed shelves which lined the building’s stone interior. The faint scent of paper and ink lingered in the air.
“Ah, I am free where there are books, and such a place shall be my home.” A quote from Coillier Romeros’ Travels Through Bourgogne, he subconsciously tacked on.
Regis would only go so far as to proclaim himself an avid reader, but he was more truthfully an insatiable book rat—le rat de bibliothèque. His eyes passionately traced over the shelf of new releases.
“H-How could this be...!?” his lips quickly trembled.
“Hm? Something wrong, soldier?” the bearded man behind the back counter called over. His muscular build and the scar across his cheek made him look more like an instructor from a military academy than the keeper of a bookstore.
Almost oblivious to his overpowering aura, Regis parted his lips again to speak.
“I can’t find Coillier’s newest work. In fact, I don’t see Count Ludosel or Professor Illue here, either... Are they all sold out? I know they’re awfully popular, but this selection is terrible.”
“Well, soldier, I take it you came from central.”
“Yeah, I just arrived from the capital...”
“Ah, then that explains your confusion. Those sorta books don’t sell out here, so we rarely stock them, if ever.”
“...Could... Could you please... repeat that...?”
Regis’s voice escaped gravelly as though he were stranded and pleading for water in the desert. His throat had dried up in the blink of an eye. This all elicited little more than a shrug from the storekeeper, and it became very quickly apparent that he wasn’t joking.
“This is a war zone. The only profit to be had is in tales of heroics and eroticism. Just have a look at our best seller.”
The title he pointed out read, “How to Write Your Will without Regrets.”
This can’t be happening! Regis screamed internally as he hugged his head.
“H-Hold on a tick... You don’t stock such famous best-sellers? Am I really still in Belgaria? Have I, by chance, taken a wrong turn into a barbarian settlement?”
“No, this is indeed Belgaria. Although it was only fifty years ago that we belonged to the country one over.”
“Erk... And what’s the deal with these prices? This is more than ten times what it goes for in the capital...”
Having finally found a book that caught his eye, Regis had picked it up to have a closer look, but he was already on the verge of tears.
“Books are heavy and bandits are rampant—it’s a trial and a half just to get them here. Not to mention the tiny customer base... In these parts, books are just another expensive hobby for the upper class,” the bearded storekeeper indifferently explained.
“Dear Lord, why!?”
“Yeah, sorry about that...”
The shopkeeper reached to take the book from the distraught Regis, who hurriedly pressed it against his chest in a panic.
“Wait, wait, wait, I never said I wasn’t buying it!”
“Huh, are you serious!? By the look of things, you’re still a young recruit. I know it’s in my best interests to make a sale, but... Pardon me, would that not cost a whole week of your salary?”
“Ghhh... This is hell...” Regis groaned.
It was at that moment the storekeeper blurted out an awry “Oh!?” as his eyes shot open. Regis traced the man’s line of sight as he turned.
There in the doorway stood a girl, her form emblazoned by the light streaming in from outside.
She was a lovely-looking young woman with blazing crimson hair and red, ruby-like eyes. She had to be around thirteen or fourteen years old. While some immature features lingered on her face, she carried a charm that caught the eye and kept it—enough so that he was subconsciously taken in.
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