The day Altina proclaimed she would set her sights on the seat of the emperor, the situation took an unanticipated turn.
The ministry of military affairs issued an order to the fort requesting documents be properly filed and submitted. Regis could not help but see this as a precarious situation, one that threatened the continued existence of the regiment. But Jerome, the very cause of these worries, paid the instruction no mind at all.
“Hmph... If they’re going to raise a ruckus over the likes of paperwork, they can just protect this fort themselves. They have no unit daft enough to march to these northern lands.”
“Is that your reply? I can’t send back something so incendiary...”
“If you don’t like it, you do something about it.”
“Hah...”
The matter was entrusted to Regis.
Altina apologetically stopped him in the hall once she’d heard about it.
“When I came here three months ago, I knew it couldn’t go on like this. I did what I could.”
“But the situation hasn’t changed...”
“You think so? I brought you here, did I not? I even put in a special request to the ministry’s personnel department to do so.”
“I see. I finally understand why the ministry wouldn’t answer any questions I had about the situation at my new post.”
Perhaps he would have disputed his deployment had he known he would be the only administrative officer.
“Did I do something I shouldn’t have?” Altina asked worriedly.
“No, my reassignment was going to happen regardless, and there are plenty of worse places to be. This isn’t so bad... though me being the only administrative officer is a problem.”
“Is this too much for you to handle alone?”
“I don’t know yet. Well, I can’t just ignore the problem and hope it goes away. I’ll do what I can.”
And so, Regis became swamped with administrative busywork.
If Altina strove to be empress, Regis wanted to help her. After all, he himself embraced a desire to change the empire.
However, the reality of the situation proved quite similar to the snow piling up on the roof above—cold, heavy, and likely to bring the whole place crashing down if unattended to.
The work laid out before him wouldn’t wait.
As Regis spent his time surrounded by mountains of paperwork, he was unable to notice Altina’s decision.
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When he had first seen it, Regis had thought his room so vast it must have been a mistake. But now it was crammed with mountains upon mountains of documents, leaving nowhere for him to even stand.
The desk that had once seemed disproportionately large for someone of his rank now felt cramped and uncomfortable.
He glared at the report in his hands.
“...I see. So that’s what’s happening.”
There were a number of points that caught his interest, but he continued his work indifferently for the time being. He placed the report on the mountain of papers he had already gone through.
The candle on the desk wavered in the wind, drawing the surrounding shadows into an eerie dance.
Oil lamps were more mainstream in the capital, but as the oil that fueled them was liquid, they were harder to transport than solid candles. This inevitably meant that candles were used more often than not near the border.
Regis reached for the next document.
It was then that the door let off a reserved tapping sound.
“Mn? Yes, who is it? The door’s not locked...”
“Good morning, Mr. Aurick.”
The door was opened by a black-haired woman with equally dark eyes, her skin as brown as a healthy tan. She wore the black uniform of a maid, and looked just a little older than Regis.
She entered the room following a polite curtsey. Regis made sure to bow in return.
“Good day, Elin. You’re early today.”
“I have to go to the marketplace today, so I thought I would stop by before that. I was worried I might wake you, but it seems you are an early riser, Mr. Aurick.”
“No... not exactly.”
He had barely gotten any sleep, having effectively pulled an all-nighter. It had been like this every day for the past week.
Elin was a maid who served the house of Margrave Beilschmidt. After the previous administrative officers were driven from the fort, the people in charge of the residence’s finances were apparently ordered to handle all the paperwork of the regiment.
While Elin hailed from a foreign country, she was an eager learner who studied Belgarian after arriving at the margrave’s residence. She could now fluently read and write the language.
Another person appeared beside her—
A youth dressed in a butler’s coat. He shared the same black hair, black eyes and tan skin. He carried a large wooden crate in his arms.
“Hey, I brought it.”
He crudely tossed the box on the floor and brushed away the wood splinters stuck to his clothing.
Elin bumped a prompt knuckle down on his head.
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