“C’mon now, Gösta. Mind your manners.”
“Oww... Don’t hit me, sis... Isn’t this supposed to be a soldier’s job? Why do we have to help out, anyway!? And this guy’s just a commoner, a fifth-grade admin officer, he’s not that— Oww!?”
He was hit again.
“What are you saying!? Your rudeness may bring Sir Jerome’s very character into question! My apologies, Mr. Aurick. Please don’t take his words to heart. My brother is still new to his trade.”
“I don’t particularly mind...”
“Sis, I’m already sixteen! I’m a full-fledged steward’s assistant! I’m not new to my—”
“Shut it, you!”
Gösta was the younger brother of the maid, Elin, and was currently assisting the margrave’s house’s steward with his duties. As a steward’s job covered so much ground, he seldom had the chance to leave the manor. Thus, it had become one of the boy’s duties to maintain contact with Regis.
Though, Regis couldn’t understand why Elin always accompanied him.
He browsed through the fresh paperwork brought in, carefully counting the amount of new tasks to do.
“Gösta hasn’t said anything out of place... I am neither your employer, nor am I a client,” Regis reservedly conceded.
“Don’t be silly. Being a military officer is already plenty important. You ensure the peace of our everyday lives, don’t you?”
“Sis, this guy’s administration. He’s got nothing to do with war.”
“Quit it, would you!”
“Haha... He’s right. I may be enlisted, but swords and spears are beyond me.”
Regis was abysmal when it came to receiving praise.
Despite that, Elin directed an impassioned glance in his direction.
“You are very modest, Mr. Aurick... I think being on the intellectual side is a wonderful trait.”
This was an era where strength was required to live. The majority of women fell under the mindset that a man’s worth was decided by his muscle, so was Elin a little strange? Or was flattery just a part of her job?
It must be the latter, thought Regis.
He felt ashamed to have misunderstood the intent of simple social courtesy. I should get back to work; no unnecessary thoughts, he decided as he got the papers in order.
“All right... I should be able to manage this much. I’ll have a good look over the details later. Thank you. I have some suggestions regarding my future work, so I wrote up a letter. Could you pass this to Mr. Maclen?”
“Certainly.”
Elin courteously accepted the letter. Beside her, Gösta muttered “What a pain,” only to be hit on the head yet again.
It was impossible for Regis to handle the entirety of the regiment’s paperwork on his own, so he continuously requested the assistance of the servants of the margrave’s estate. Among them was the steward, Maclen—a fifty-year-old veteran in taxation and trading documentation whose work in these fields was always error-free, which was a huge load off of Regis’s shoulders.
His work on military reports and supply requisition forms, on the other hand, was not quite so flawless. These papers relied on conventions unique to the military that, when not followed to a T, were quickly followed by letters of reprimand from the ministry. Only by checking and correcting them before they went out, often writing up the difficult portions himself, could Regis make these just barely presentable enough to avoid complaint.
“I’d like him to take care of these documents this week. They are a tad numerous, but there shouldn’t be too much writing required,” he said as he stacked the requested documents into the box.
Gösta had a blatantly reluctant look on his face. “This many? They’re quite a hassle, you know? Mr. Maclen still has to do his job at the manor!”
“And I’m very grateful for his assistance. Please think of it as helping out Sir Jerome.”
“H-Hmph! I don’t need you telling me that!” Gösta picked up the box as he spoke.
A wooden crate filled to the brim with papers was surely quite heavy, but he had physical prowess unbefitting his wiry frame—as expected of a butler.
Regis extinguished the candle on the desk, carefully making sure not to disturb the precarious mountains of documents as he made his way to the door and opened it.
“...I’ll see you to the carriage. I was just about to leave the room, anyway.”
While Gösta was silent, Elin offered a smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Aurick.”
“I’m sorry I can only see you off.”
Regis intended to procure some coffee at the dining hall.
Coffee was a drink about as cheap as wine or beer that even a commoner could stock up on—a miraculous drink that could keep him operating a while longer. Truth be told, he needed sleep far more, but there was little to be done when he had papers he needed to file by noon. The postal service that carried packages and letters to the capital only came by once every two weeks.
He walked out into the corridor. It was dark.
It wasn’t yet an hour where any significant light would come in through the windows, so a corridor of stone walls became almost an inky-black darkness. Any aristocrat’s manor in the capital would at least have candlesticks placed on the walls.
However, Regis had finally grown accustomed to feeling his way through the fort.
Their footsteps echoed.
“...Is your carriage at the south gate?”
“Yes. I would not want anyone to have to go to the trouble of opening the main gate.”
“Understandably.”
The large front gate, made so an army could pass, required a great many people to open and close, while the south gate on the opposite side could be operated with only two guards. It was only just barely large enough for a wagon to enter, but if one wanted to reach town quicker, the south gate was their best bet.
Jerome’s manor was situated in the town of Theonveil, where the streets were abundant with an ever-changing stream of people, goods and information. To manage such a territory from within the fort would have been near impossible.
✧ ✧ ✧
They left the central tower, made for the south gate and, just as they reached the back yard where the carriage was parked, they ran into another maid.