The fort was abuzz with talk of the duel. Naturally, there was no way the princess could win with Jerome as her opponent... But then why had she issued the challenge? Did she really think the margrave would hold back against royalty?
The soldiers exchanged rumors in hushed whispers.
“You think they’ll trade a few rehearsed blows before the margrave surrenders? Turning your sword against royalty’s practically a death sentence, ain’t it?”
“Yer only saying that ‘cuz you didn’t see it at the plaza. It’s been a long time since I saw the general seriously worked up; thought I was gonna piss myself.”
“Hey, is the princess gonna be all right?”
“Well he’s gonna marry ‘er, so I doubt he’d ‘urt ‘er too badly.”
“Hehehee... What a roundabout way to propose!”
“Ahahahah!”
In a good and honest confrontation, Jerome’s victory was inevitable. The soldiers’ main point of concern lay in whether the duel was truly serious or just a farce.
If it was serious, what would the margrave do with Altina? Many were concerned over what they saw as an oblivious princess, who had spent her entire upbringing at the palace, lashing out at an esteemed hero.
Interest focused in particular on whether he would actually take her as a bride when he won.
Regis made his rounds through the western ward, gathering the rumors that spread between the soldiers.
“...Is it too much to ask for a single person who believes Altina can win?”
A large majority of the soldiers considered themselves side characters in the anticipated duel between the princess and the margrave, who stood at center stage. This was, however, far from true—these gossiping soldiers were by far the most important players in this soon-to-be tragedy. Altina had issued her challenge to gain the soldiers’ trust, and Jerome had accepted precisely because said soldiers were watching.
What the three thousand men of the border regiment had to say on the matter was more important than anything else.
It had been unintentional, but Regis still felt responsible for spurring the princess into action, and wanted to help her however he could. It was therefore necessary that he understood the soldiers’ thoughts.
Having patrolled everywhere he could think of, he returned to the central tower...
This time heading toward Jerome’s room.
As he stood in the hallway outside, an overwhelming tension washed over him. His heart pulsed at a concerning pace.
Steadying his breath, he tapped a knuckle against the black-painted door.
“Who is it?” came a low voice from inside.
He swallowed dryly.
“...It’s Regis. I came because I need to talk to you, Sir Jerome.”
“Hmph... Pointless words, I’d assume.”
“That depends, really...”
“Enter.”
Regis opened the door and entered a chamber about as large as his own room. It appeared the bedroom was further in, as there was another door in the back. To its side was an office desk, and the shelves by the wall were lined with books on law and economics.
Jerome was in the center of the room, leaning a short, heavy practice spear against his shoulder. His upper body was bare and already drenched in sweat.
✦ ✦ ✦
