Altina the Sword Princess: Volume 12, page 3
“Sure enough... Five hundred horsemen and four thousand foot soldiers is a bit much for the fourth princess’s guard detail, and the remnants of the High Britannian Army are still scattered across our land.” It was not completely absurd to say the entire nation was a battlefield.
“And as marshal general, the blame for High Britannia reaching so far into our territory rests with me,” Latrielle said, irked. Although the letter came across as rather benign, it was clear that his foe would take full advantage of any careless mistakes. He cursed to himself. This much was to be expected of a plan from that tactician; he had prepared the prince’s own countermeasure for him.
“Then...how shall we respond?” Germain asked.
“We congratulate Regis for his safe return and apologize for the misunderstanding. Award him the medals he should have received at Grebeauvoir, invite Argentina to the coronation, and give a warm welcome to every soldier in the Fourth Army. That should cover it.”
I’m practically accepting all of their demands... Latrielle thought. He clenched his fists, only to feel two hands rest atop them.
“Please settle down, sire... This is a fine play on your part. The fourth princess shall also have a storm in her heart as she celebrates the enthronement of a political enemy. You are going to be sharing the pain.”
“I’m aware of that, but I’m not the one who thought up my response. It was the tactician. He created a situation where this is my only recourse.”
“What are you talking about? Even when Regis was operating in the capital, the most he managed was a dubious article in some gossip tabloid. You’re still the one ultimately taking the throne.”
“Hmm...”
“In fact, the fourth princess’s attendance will show everyone who the true emperor is. Are you sure Regis isn’t the one holding his head right now?”
“You’re right, Germain. I must be growing anxious, what with my coronation before me.”
“You’re just tired. Let’s write our reply and return to the palace; we can leave the rest to the White Hares.”
“Right... I’ll take your advice. For tomorrow’s sake.”
And so, Latrielle hopped aboard his carriage and started on his return to the palace. Under Batteren of the White Hares’s command, the First Army solemnly marched back to the capital, the Fourth Army following behind them.
The sudden addition of around forty-five hundred soldiers caused an uproar in the supply chain from top to bottom, but...just as Regis had proclaimed, it did seem the soldiers of the Fourth Army would have a warm place to sleep.
Sparks had been flying between the two armies since midday, but now, at nightfall, they were marching down the main street in two lines. Spectators flooded to the sides of the roads. It was a peculiar sight indeed, but the civilians, anxious at the prospect of civil war, could not help but smile and cheer.
✧ ✧ ✧
The next day—
It was rainy, but that would not stop the coronation. A splendid stage had been erected in the plaza in front of the palace—the same plaza where Bourgine had once given her address. Soldiers clad in glistening full plate saluted in rank and file.
“You’re late, newbie!” yelled a man with large ears and suntanned skin, dressed in a leather flatcap and a seedy business suit. He was Claude, a reporter from The Weekly Quarry. A short girl was running after him.
“Please...don’t just...run ahead...like that!” the girl panted. She wore a similar cap and jacket, but she had pale skin and blue eyes. Her blonde hair was tied behind her head.
“Put this on,” Claude said, handing her a wooden board with a symbol burned into it, attached to a thin leather cord so that it could be worn around the neck. He was wearing one as well.
“What is it?”
“A press pass. You can’t even get close enough to see the nobles’ faces without one. See, if we try joining that crowd now, we won’t be able to hear Latrielle’s speech.”
“He’s amazing. People have gathered from all over the Empire. Forget the plaza; the streets are packed to the brim.”
“Don’t be stupid; there are a hundred thousand here at most. That’s a mere fraction of the Empire’s population.”
“That’s still pretty crazy!”
“Maybe... And I must be crazy, entrusting this once-in-a-lifetime event to my junior. Especially seeing as you overslept.”
“Th-That’s only because you wouldn’t let me sleep!” the girl protested, her cheeks turning a bashful red.
“Because your article was so piss-poor, we had to spend all night correcting it!” Claude shot back through gritted teeth. He urged her forward with such a strong push that she almost toppled over, but still, she pressed on.
“Wah! Ah, seriously... Still, I’m surprised you actually managed to get press passes.”
“Yeah.”
“The Weekly Quarry’s pretty much become the representative of all the dissidents raising hell around the capital. Honestly, how did... Huh? Wait, this isn’t right, sir. The name on my pass is wrong.”
“You think so?”
“Look! It should say ‘Betty.’ This isn’t even close! Huh? The company name’s wrong too... And, wait, your name’s completely wrong, sir!”
“Pipe down. There’s no way the Ministry of Ceremonies was ever going to give The Quarry a permit.”
“So these are forged...?”
“Think. How do you expect me to get my hands on a branding iron, especially at such short notice?”
“Then...you stole it.”
“Don’t be stupid. I graciously borrowed them from those who sympathize with our ideals. Let’s make the best of our good fortune, eh?”
“Th-This is a crime!”
“Fine. Give yours back if you’re so against it. I’ll go alone.”
Claude reached out, but Betty twisted to avoid him. “A-Actually, on second thought, you’re the one who stole them. I’m perfectly innocent. And I do want to see the ceremony. Latrielle’s super cool.”
“Hah! We’re writing an article to take him down, remember?”
“Really gets the heart racing, doesn’t it?”
“You’re insane. Not that any normal people ever apply to work for us...”
The two passed through the exclusive press gate and mixed in with the large crowd of reporters. The officials did ask for their press passes, but there were so many people barging through that the check consisted of no more than a cursory look over. In hindsight, perhaps even a crude forgery would have gotten them inside. They were, however, strictly screened for weapons.
The podium was in front of the palace gates. The nobles were seated facing it, while the reporters were sectioned off with a fence, positioned to watch from the side. It wasn’t a bad spot—as Claude had said, they were close enough to make out everyone’s expressions—but a line of armored soldiers stood in the way.
“Move! Or at least crouch down!”
It’s a little cute to see them cowering and squatting before seething reporters, Betty thought. Her short stature meant she had to stand on tiptoes to see the stage. “Hah... No sign of Prince Latrielle.”
“Given the rain, he’ll probably stay under shelter until the last possible minute. I don’t see Marquis Bergerac either.” Claude didn’t usually bother adding noble titles to such names, but he had to be mindful when there was no telling who was listening.
“Bergerac...?”
“Grr... At least remember the name of the minister of ceremonies.”
“Oh, that’s right! I remember! I totally remember! He’s the third prince’s grandfather. Aha ha... I have a hard time memorizing and recalling anything that doesn’t have to do with hotties.”
“Good grief...”
“I had such a hard time remembering you, sir.”
“Shut up.” Claude parted the reporters and started making his way closer to the stage. Betty was smaller, so she had to stick to his back if she wanted to press on. Upon reaching the front, Claude leaned over the low fence and pointed. “Look at those lines of nobles.”
“They’re positively sparkling.”
“You should memorize the order they’re sitting in.”
“What does it mean?”
“Front right is where the top noble sits, and they go down in importance from there. This seating order’s the result of a grand power struggle. You could call it a flat-out indication of each noble’s current political standing.”
“Oh, I see.”
“A new emperor means different nobles might be favored. And so the order changes.”
“I see, I see...” Betty nodded. She would have noted this information down, but all the journalists pushing her from behind made it a near-impossible task. There was a serious chance she would have been squashed flat by now had Claude not been there; he had resorted to pressing both hands against the fence to form a barrier of sorts for her. “Are the ones in the front the royal family?”
“The current ministers too. They’re special. They don’t need to nestle up to the emperor; in fact, the nobles are supposed to nestle up to them.”
“Hmm. Even the ministers?”
“The ministers are like the representatives of the nobles. Even the emperor can’t fire them without reason, otherwise there’ll be trouble. The nation won’t function. Worst-case scenario, there could be a large-scale civil war.”
“Oh really?”
“In short, they’re super nobles who can’t be ignored. Oh, look! It’s Princess Argentina!”
“Wowser! I’m a huge fan!”
The other reporters were in an uproar over the entrance of the woman who was second in notability only to the emperor himself. The fence grated and Claude’s arms began to tremble as the crowd pushed even harder; he was barely able to hold everyone back.
“Grr... Nghh...”
“Are you okay, sir?”
“Yeah... That red-haired, crimson-eyed young woman? Get a good look at her while you can. She became a lieutenant general at fifteen. She’s a hero who turned the tide of the war: Marie Quatre Argentina.”
“Talk about crazy!”
“If you’re a reporter, you should really do something about your vocabulary. Anyways, the guy next to her is even crazier!”
“Oh?”
“First-Grade Admin Officer Regis d’Aurick. They call him the Wizard. He’s dressed like a man today, I see...” Claude chuckled. “He looked better in a dress.”
Betty tilted her head. The man walking beside the princess was wearing a formal uniform, but he was slender and slumped forward. “Um... That spindly guy is Regis?” she asked. “He’s not just the princess’s bag carrier?”
“That’s Sir Regis to you. He might just be a chevalier, but he’s still a noble.”
“Yuck. My image of him is ruined.”
“Hey, I thought the same thing the first time I met him. Behind them is...the Empire’s Sword, Eddie Fabio de Balzac.”
“Whoa, a hottie!”
“Rumor had it he disappeared during the national day celebrations... I guess he really did follow the fourth princess.”
“What sort of person is he?”
“He’s the best swordsman in the Empire. Never lost a sparring match, although I heard he hates the battlefield.”
“Hmm.”
“He was apparently working as First Prince Auguste’s bodyguard. But now that Auguste has retired and put his support behind Argentina, I guess he’s in the princess’s faction. Just as expected.”
“I don’t see Prince Auguste anywhere.”
“Or any silver hair, at that.”
“There is some brown hair, though.” The other reporters had noticed too; their surroundings were astir as surprise spread among the nobles.
“Seriously...” Claude groaned. “That’s Third Prince Heinrich Trois Bastian! I never thought he’d express his support for the princess too! And on the day of the coronation, no less! This is getting interesting!”
“Mm... Huh? What’s so interesting?”
“Think about it. Second Prince Latrielle is gonna take the throne. The smart thing to do is to support him—even an idiot could see that.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Despite that, Third Prince Bastian, on the very day the match is decided, chooses to publicly associate with Princess Argentina!”
“Are you sure they didn’t just happen to enter together?”
“This ain’t your everyday bar! If they didn’t want to show their alliance, they would have entered separately.”
“Ah, I see.”
“You don’t get it, do you? He chose to side with Princess Argentina because of our coverage. This is the best!”
“Eh? Is that true?!”
“Oh, right. You weren’t there. I’ll explain when we get back.”
Betty offered a vague nod in response. It must have been the illegal sort of reporting if he can’t talk about it here, she concluded.
A sinister smile played on Claude’s lips. “Aha ha... Emperor Latrielle’s a ship setting out in a storm. The fact that Prince Bastian is supporting Princess Argentina practically screams that those rumors about Prince Latrielle killing his father aren’t complete nonsense.” It was clear to see why the nobles were so boisterous, and with that thought, he turned his gaze to Regis. “Did you set all this up...?”
“Sir.” Betty pointed at the seated nobles. “What about the ones in the second row?”
“Up front, you have those from around the capital—the important central nobles. Latrielle’s faction, so to speak. Not only do they have wealth and military might, but the prince they’re backing is about to become emperor. They must be jumping for joy.”
“The rich get richer. Can’t say I like that.”
“Next up are the new nobles from the south. Do you know about the Gaillarte Garden Party?”
“O-Of course I do,” Betty replied, her eyes wavering in contrast to her already feeble assertion.
Claude sighed. “I told you to read up before we arrived. They hold vast tracts of fertile land to the south and have built up a fortune trading with the many small nations in the area.”
“So they’re loaded?”
“Yeah, and they can put up a good fight against the power-hungry central nobles. I thought they were in the princess’s faction, but...I guess, even then, that still puts them above the western nobles.”
“So the western nobles come third?”
Claude nodded. “They were second during the previous emperor’s reign... They have a prestigious history, but the old, established houses in the west have fallen. Now they’re little more than poor nobles in the countryside. They suffered the most damage in the war against High Britannia.”
“Ah, right. Makes sense if they’re in the west.”
Behind those three powers, the other miscellaneous provincial nobles lined up. They were viscounts and other lower ranks—houses with minimal assets. Similarly to the common spectators, they weren’t even afforded seats.
“Hmm?” It was then that Betty noticed something. “The eastern nobles didn’t come?”
“There’s a rumor going around that Latrielle assassinated Juhaprecia. War could break out in the east at any second.”
“Pff... Aren’t we the ones who spread that rumor?”
“Hey. Keep quiet about that,” Claude chided, although he was clearly holding back laughter as he said it. On closer inspection, every noble seemed keen on getting even a single seat ahead. Meanwhile, there were a surprising number of vacancies among the high nobles.
“Is it because of the rain?” Betty asked.
“No... There are a few nobles claiming lèse-majesté and protesting that the suspicions of the prince assassinating the emperor were never addressed. They’re the sorta folk who would hold a duel for their honor.”
“Come to think of it, the empress consort isn’t here either.”
“Hm? You’re right... Oh, it’s about to start. Remember the order; we’re putting it in the article.”
“Leave it to me!”
The greatest disturbance in the Ministry of Ceremonies had been caused by the empress consort, Latrielle’s mother. Soon after The Weekly Quarry had divulged the grand chamberlain’s testimony, she had disappeared from the imperial court. Even now, her whereabouts were unknown, and so this empty seat in the frontmost row invited quite a bit of speculation.
A bugle sounded to mark the beginning of the ceremony, and then came the rhythmic beating of a drum. The coronation opened to a dignified musical performance.
✧ ✧ ✧
Inside a waiting room in the palace—
Latrielle was dressed in the Empire’s traditional robes and was quietly waiting for the coronation to begin when Germain entered the room. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to find the empress consort in time...” the adjutant said.
“I see,” Latrielle replied. “Then she will not attend.”
“Our surveillance loosened because of yesterday’s uproar. My apologies.”
“What are you apologizing for? Am I an infant who cannot host a ceremony without his mother?”
“No, that’s not what I—”
Latrielle leaned close to Germain and whispered into his ear, ensuring that nobody else would overhear. “She is a vile serpent who poisoned my brother so that her own son could take the throne. Be vigilant. She’s most dangerous when she can’t be seen.”
Germain swallowed hard. “I’ll double our search efforts at once.”
“Do so in moderation; the safety of our attendees is our top priority. My reputation will be tarnished if anything happens to my guests during my coronation.”
“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down!”
After giving a salute, Germain exited the waiting room. Latrielle was alone once more. He opened a wooden chest containing his personal effects and took out a painting small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Depicted on it was a black-haired woman in an apron.
“Beatrice... I’ve finally made it this far...”
There came a sudden knock on the door, which prompted Latrielle to return the painting to his chest. As soon as he stepped outside the palace, he was struck by the tune of the band and the cheers of the crowd. In spite of the rain, the square and the streets were brimming with people.
