It was absurd, but an all too realistic reason.

"Our western region has a powerful enemy in Burgundy, so we don’t recklessly try to devour each other. The southern region, on the other hand, is different. The Swiss Confederation had its eyes on Lombardy and the Archduchy of Austria, so the south faced no real external threat."

Unlike the west, the south had few external threats, so it was a region where territorial strife was frequent. So it was natural for them to be wary of being devoured by one another. And the appearance of cannons had broken that balance.

And it was I who had created such a situation.

That was why Count Euz had lavished praise on me, saying I’d set up a game I couldn’t lose.

"Count Belfort, isn’t he a talent capable of becoming a pillar of the west?"

"To face an enemy as mighty as Burgundy, a capable ally is reassuring."

I was deeply moved by the margraves’ praise and their acknowledgment of my abilities, but the Manager Scouter reminded me of the cold reality.

Their true intent toward me was exploitation.

Sadly, that was the truth.

"I’m overjoyed to be able to live up to your expectations, my lords."

"Heh heh heh, good. I look forward to your continued good efforts."

We smiled at one another and concluded the secret meeting.

Wishing me good efforts? Not at all.

Just as you exploit me, I’ll simply exploit you in turn.

Strange bedfellows, indeed.

Beneath the flickering candle, I was writing a letter to Hilda.

The place I was currently staying had been the mansion of a wealthy Rheinkalsen family, but apparently, the moment the Count of Basel surrendered, the family had fled to the Swiss Confederation. So I was using it as the Gale Knights’ temporary headquarters.

The coalition cavalry had disbanded. The Essenbach dragoons, along with the Belfort and Euz cavalry, lamented the disbandment, saying they’d been able to grab plenty of spoils working alongside me.

For my part, though, I felt relieved.

Entering mid-December, the eastern front still couldn’t break free of its stalemate. They were maintaining a taut front line through back-and-forth exchanges, but the road to Radensdorf had opened.

It was bad news for the Duke and good news for the Grand Duke.

But retreating wasn’t easy either, so the Duke’s army was still pinned to the Breisburg front.

The moment the regrouping was finished, we laid out a grand strategy to pass through Konstanz and enter Radensdorf. The core of that grand strategy was the Royal Artillery Corps, and the newly created title of artillery commander was given to me.

The reason was that there was no noble who could command artillery as well as I could.

Drinking red wine, I completed the dispatch recording the developments so far.

And at the end, in the postscript, I inserted a sweet sentence—the sort of thing Italians would spout. Hilda secretly likes sentences like that.

After carefully wrapping the scroll, I sealed it with my signet. By the time this dispatch reached her, I would be heading for Radensdorf.

Neigh!

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!"

In the mansion’s stable, Anton was breaking into a cold sweat trying to calm Chrysos. She was so fierce that even Anton, who’d learned horsemanship from Winter, was struggling to manage her.

"Why is she so angry?"

"W-well, it’s Mont Blanc..."

Hm? Come to think of it, Mont Blanc was nowhere to be seen. I’d thought that if I put the two of them in the same stall, they’d hit it off on their own, so where did this fellow go? He was hiding over there in the corner.

The Mont Blanc I knew wasn’t a timid fellow like that.

Anton, catching the meaning of my gaze, smiled awkwardly and said.

"He tried to mount her and got kicked a few times."

"...So that’s why our young lady is this angry."

Well now, she was a pickier young lady than I’d thought.

Mont Blanc is such a fine fellow, too.

Chrysos settled down under my touch. She pressed her nose against my head to smell me, and even gently nibbled my shoulder, fawning over me. Entirely different treatment from what Anton got.

The cowed Mont Blanc just watched from the corner. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

It was funny how the fellow who’d been fouler-tempered than Schatten had suddenly turned into a coward.

"Come here! What are you doing, sulking like that just because you got kicked? You’re a male, aren’t you?"

When I kept coaxing him over, the dawdling Mont Blanc reluctantly approached. Chrysos snorted and flared up, but because I was there, she didn’t kick Mont Blanc.

I never imagined he’d lose heart and give up on such a fine young lady just because he got kicked. Hm, if Mont Blanc isn’t to her liking, should I introduce Hilda’s Schatten?

Maybe Chrysos was shy with strangers and wouldn’t accept Mont Blanc, so it seemed I should regularly make time for them to grow close. I should at least try, anyway.

If only for the sake of producing fine thoroughbreds.

I was cleansing my spirit, which had been sullied by those crafty old foxes, in the company of my adorable horses, when Anton, who’d been inspecting the mansion’s security, returned with a clueless expression.

"Um, Commander? Do you happen to know who accompanied Loki when he killed the otter?"

"Hm? Loki who killed the otter? That’s from the story of the Ring of the Nibelung."

"I don’t know what that is, but the visitor says you’d know."

I’d know? Out of nowhere? I thought it over carefully.

First, the companions of Loki who killed the otter were Odin and Hoenir.

...Wait, this is a coded message.

I recalled that it was one of Hoenir’s three coded messages. That meant the visitor who’d come for me was one of Hoenir’s people. I ordered Anton to bring the visitor in.

It was a man in a beggar’s robe.

He seemed thoroughly committed to his disguise, but the smell was so foul I nearly drove him out.

"I am one of the shadows operating in the south."

"There’s been no contact for a while, so I’d nearly forgotten, but what brings you here so suddenly?"

"A message from Marquis Bertheim."

What? A message from the old man?

After encountering the royal family’s conspiracy, Old Man Bertheim had headed east, and with no way to get news of him anymore, I’d been worried about whether he was dead or alive. He’s not even in active service, so why does he wander around like that?

"The marquis is in the southern district of Rheinkalsen."

"He’s come here? When did he arrive?"

"He arrived not long ago."

I didn’t know when he’d moved to the south, but for now I was relieved the old man was safe. Information was important too, but wasn’t a man past eighty pushing himself too hard?

"I’ll guide you, so..."

"Anton, summon the Gale Knights."

"Yes. I’ll prepare them at once!"

The man’s eyes turned a touch fierce. He seemed not to understand why I’d bring my men in force just to meet the marquis. My position was so important that an escort was essential.

I’m not a halfwit who forgets his status and wanders about alone.

I summoned the Gale Knights and followed the man’s lead.

The southern part of Rheinkalsen was where the slums had taken root, and with poor public order, it was a place with few people about. It was a good place to move discreetly, so Old Man Bertheim was hiding here.

"It’s over there."

The place the man guided me to was a shabby meeting hall in a quiet brothel district. It called to mind The Pauper’s Crown, Bodo’s old haunt. The old man was staying in a place like this?

"This is a far cry from the marquis’s taste, isn’t it?"

"Espionage work doesn’t pick and choose its locations."

"I suppose not. Especially if you mean to sell out the old man to lure me into a trap."

Before the man could even react, my sword was already at his throat.

"Commander! What is this?"

"First, the name Hoenir’s people call me is Sleipnir. Clara decided that."

"..."

"Second, I sensed unmistakable bloodlust inside there."

"..."

"Third, you’re far too poor an actor."

Thunk!

I struck his temple with the pommel of my cavalry sword and knocked him out. I’d grandly laid out three reasons, but the truth was I’d known from the start. Because the Manager Scouter had told me of the man’s deceit.

That alone was enough for me to realize he meant to lure me into a trap. And the Sleipnir code name was genuine. It was the code name Clara had secretly passed to me.

His not knowing it was proof he wasn’t on my side.

But why had these fellows, who certainly belonged to Hoenir, tried to lure me into a trap?

Well, capturing and interrogating him would tell me soon enough.

Boom!

But suddenly an enormous explosion went off, and the meeting hall was engulfed in flames.