“If I used a scheme to help you win... you’d lose the righteousness of the road you tread. There is nothing more wretched than being ruled by one who has strayed from their path.”
“Err... I don’t really understand those complicated bits, but my gut tells me I need to win this fairly!”
“Can I believe in you...?”
“I’ll give you reason to believe in me. Just you watch!”
Altina tapped her fist against Regis’s still-clenched hand.
Their knuckles let out a quiet thump. Regis responded to this age-honored display of kinship with a nod.
Any plan to help her win would not only be unnecessary, but harmful to her as she was now.
But that didn’t mean he would stand idly by.
✧ ✧ ✧
Regis rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stepped into the officers’ dining hall. As the person he was looking for wasn’t there, he next went to the stables.
Some aimless wandering later, he was loudly greeted by the very man he wanted to see.
“Ah, Regis!”
“I was looking for you, Mr. Everard. Do you—”
“I was just looking for you. We need to talk!”
“You mean... about the princess?”
“Mn? About the duel? Wa-hahah!! I knew she’d challenge him one of these days, but I never expected it so soon. Took me a little by surprise!”
“You saw it coming?”
“For them to keep leaving her out like that... She’d have to do something about it eventually.”
“Yes, well...”
“And in a situation like that, the only option left is to draw your sword and carve your own way!”
Regis held his head. In short, Altina’s thought process wasn’t too different from the muscle-headed knight captain’s. When she was holding a sword, at least.
His head hurt.
No, that was precisely why she needed Regis as her tactician.
“Yeah... More like dig your own grave.”
“Wa-hahah! You have quite a way with words. As expected of a tactician!”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not a tactician.”
“Oh really? Those were some splendid tactics you used to nab those bandits. And wouldn’t using tactics make you a tactician?”
“No, that’s... The princess asked for my help, so I repeated something I’d read elsewhere... I don’t have the capacity to come up with new strategies of my own...”
“What’s so bad about that? Offering information that others don’t possess—sounds plenty useful to me!”
“I suppose...”
But what if he lacked the required knowledge at a crucial moment? Wasn’t that precisely the time a true tactician would be needed? Just like the situation at hand.
Everard slapped him on the back with enough force to blast away any remaining drowsiness.
“That smarts!”
“There are lives that were saved thanks to you.”
“What...?”
“My grandchild, you see! My dear petit-enfant was in Marquis Thénezay’s army, but somehow got out of that defeat alive.”
“Well, yes, the main camp was wiped out following a sneak attack, but the majority of our main forces got off just fine. I highly doubt I had anything to do with that.”
“You mean they barely escaped with their lives under persistent barbarian attacks, right?”
“...You could put it like that.”
“When you were dismissed from the main camp to the back lines, my poor grandchild was a part of the reserve forces sent back with you.”
“I do remember that unit.”
“And thanks to your command, the unit never routed and was even able to help its fleeing comrades.”
Regis recalled what had happened. They were painful memories to delve into.
“...By the time we’d noticed the enemy raid, the main camp was already up in flames... I advised them not to go back to help. I mean, it was already too late; they needed to prepare for the follow-up attack... There was little else we could do.”
“Don’t be so modest. The main camp fell, but the reason our fleeing army avoided total annihilation was largely thanks to Fifth-Grade Admin Officer Regis Aurick taking command of the reserves to hold down the barbarian pursuit.”
“I didn’t command anyone... The reserve forces had senior combat officers; they’re the ones who took action.”
“That’s not what it says here.”
Everard held out a letter, which Regis took from his hands.
Tidy letters unimaginable of this man’s progeny did indeed spell out a similar story:
How the writer was saved by Regis’s efforts when the army of Marquis Thénezay had fallen.
How a great many were saved.
And then how he’d learned Regis had been made to take full responsibility for the defeat, as the sole survivor of the fallen camp.
And so—
“To repay this debt, my grandchild volunteered for our regiment. Yes, a respectable decision to make!”
“Th-That can’t be true! The survival rate here might be a bit better than other camps along the border... but you’re more than ten times more likely to die on the front lines than in the capital. I can’t believe anyone would volunteer for that.”
“I’m sure they just want to protect their lord, who was so cruelly sent to die here.”
“...I’m not worth that much trouble.”
“Wa-hahah! You do say some funny things. When a person chooses to risk their life, they’re the only one who truly understands why!”
Everard was speaking the truth—at least, Regis believed he was. But he still found it hard to believe he had saved anyone, let alone that he was worthy of protection in return.
It was mystery after mystery.
“Mr. Everard, are you okay with this? For your cherished grandchild to volunteer for such a dangerous post, just for the likes of me?”
“If such is their will, so be it.”
“Am I even worth such a risk!?”
“Indeed... that is not my place to say,” Everard responded with a gentle smile.
Regis tilted his head, failing to understand what he meant.
“...Meaning?”
“Meaning, if you prove yourself to be the kind of thoughtless man who’d send my dear grandchild to their death, we’ll have to discuss your worth at the end of my fauchard.”
“So you’re not okay with this!”
“Sure I am.”
“Are you really sure!?”
If someone from his previous unit felt gratitude toward him, that was surely a welcome surprise. Yet Regis couldn’t shake the feeling that this person’s desire to protect him had in fact shaved several years from his lifespan.
He needed to set the derailed conversation back on track.
“...P-Putting all that aside... About the princess.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think she can win?”
“I’d say she’d do well to last ten blows.”
Which meant, by Everard’s appraisal, Jerome would win within the first ten strikes. There really was that great of a gap in their skill.
“...This may stray from the chivalry of a knight, but... would you be willing to be the princess’s lifeline?”
“Gn? Let’s hear what you have in mind.”
✧ ✧ ✧