2

Two days after the rally at Raytarki, Eld’s squad gathered.

In that storage bay, the Pespilarge lay scattered, being serviced piece by piece.

But there was no sign of any team member among them.

Where was I? In a makeshift meeting room tucked away in a corner of the hangar.

Orell and Caline stood on either side of the blackboard, while Ritz and Pamela sat at their desks.

Alright, I’ve gone over the basics—anything still unclear?

Carine let out a soft sigh, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

The chalkboard was packed tight with writing and drawings—everything Karine had just explained, all neatly gathered together.

Can I say it straight out?

Yes, please.

"Why'd it end up like this design?"

From Ritz’s point of view, every system scrawled on the chalkboard was something he’d never seen before—none of it seemed to have been thought through at all. It was like the whole thing was built just to make the machine stronger, nothing else.

Normally, whether it was Armunale or Abnomule, you’d expect some simplified systems or mechanisms built in for on-site repairs. Pespilarge, though? None of that. It’s practically a death sentence for mechanics.

He couldn’t hold back his feelings toward his mentor and fellow engineer who’d created such a thing.

“Who even *could* maintain a machine like this properly?! Not a single base outside the main one, that’s for sure!”

“Mm. I’d say emergency fixes are faster than trying to repair it, honestly.”

There wasn’t much choice, was there? We built it in a rush, just to meet the deadline, even if it meant going against the captain’s wishes. No time for polishing—couldn’t even spare a breath.

Still… this is…

I stare at the blackboard again. Frown.

Even the spare Armunale parts were a nightmare for Ritz and the others. Everything had to fit—right down to the tiniest screw. We had to dig through scrap from Imperial machines, hunting for what we needed.

For a maintenance tech stationed in the field, having to work with something like this? That’s worse than a base technician having to deal with it.

I know what you’re worried about. Don’t fret. Maintaining this thing out there? Impossible. I made sure the captain understood that already.

What’d the captain say?

“Fine with me. As long as it’s not broken, just pull out the broken bits and get it working—then I can fight.”

“Typical captain. If the machine’s a mess, you’re a mess too.”

Fight if it’s working. I’ve never seen a knight say something like that before.

Armunale is a knight’s sword. To say it doesn’t need sharpening—only a complete fool or a suicide candidate would think that.

But Eld knows he’s neither.

He’ll bring down the enemy with a broken blade. With a rusted one. Always.

That’s why the machine was made. Even so, the ones who built it can’t quite shake the feeling.

“I asked myself that a hundred times while building it.”

Well, I reckon I’ve got the general idea. Guess it’s just me and Pamela need to get our heads around the system and the mechanics first, huh?

That’s right. Hey, Pamela! Time to wake up, now!

Pamela jolts upright, startled, a crisp slap across the face from a stack of paper. A red mark from her own arm remains pressed into her cheek.

“Huh!? R-right, got it!”

“What’s ‘got it’ supposed to mean, hmm?”

Orell eyes her half-lidded, teasing.

“Ah—um… sorry, okay?”

Pamela bows her head with a clean, quick motion. The three of them let out quiet chuckles.

“Alright, Pamela. Get the system and mechanics down pat before we leave. And make sure you can take the gear off the frame. Got it?”

“Got it!”

“And this here’s the detailed info.”

Orell dropped the stack of papers onto the table with a clatter. The pile was at least five centimeters thick.

Ritz and Pamira’s faces twitched at the sight.

“Gotta memorize the new gear, new mechanisms, special armor, handling explosives, all that. It’s a lot, but you’ll manage. In the meantime, we’ll be giving orders and keeping the Pespilarge maintained.”

“Y-yes, I understand.”

“Do your best…”

The real struggle for them was yet to come.

◇

While the maintenance crew held their meeting in the hangar, two figures—man and woman—set out from the town of Laiterki.

“Mr. Bnois, how about this one? Don’t you think it suits you?”

Cathrea held up a choker studded with gems.

“Nice. Do you have two? I’d like a matching pair.”

“Why not make them different colors? Wouldn’t that be better?”

"Then let's go with white and black. Don't you think they'll both look better that way?"

"Sure. Feels like a matching set, you know? Could show off how close we are."

"Then, shopkeeper, I'll take these two."

Benois pulled out his purse and paid for the two chokers that Catreia had been holding.

The shopkeeper smiled, listening to the two of them chat, and took the coins.

"Shall you put them on right here? I can adjust the belt too."

"Put them on?"

"This?"

Both of them tilted their heads at the shopkeeper’s question.

"Huh? You two aren't the ones wearing these, are you?"

"Aha, no way. These aren’t ours."

"Ahaha, though, matching like this—almost like lovers, aren’t we?"

"Wait, what?! Not at all!"

Catreia’s words made the shopkeeper and everyone nearby turn sharply toward her.

The reaction caught her off guard. She blinked, stunned.

"Just a colleague," he said. "This is for my pet. At this size, it'd look just right on a collar."

"A gemstone choker for a pet...?"

"It's the cat from the Bougnard family, you know. So friendly, so sweet. When you pick it up, it rubs its cheeks against you, just like that."

Catreia’s eyes glazed over as she remembered the moment, a soft smile tugging at her lips. The women around her all lit up, eyes sparkling.

Tall and graceful, with a delicate face—Catreia was the kind of woman who drew admiration effortlessly. Probably because she stood so straight, trained every day as a knight. That posture, that quiet confidence—it drew women in like moths to flame.

And wherever Catreia went, women followed, drawn in, spellbound.

As for Bougnard—though small and unassuming, almost fragile-looking—his gentle air somehow stirred something protective in the women. Unexpectedly, he was quite popular.

The two of them, being fellow scouts, spent a lot of time together—naturally, that meant plenty of chances to fuss over the pets Bougnard kept.

Thanks to that, even Cadreia, who’d never cared much for animals before, was now thoroughly hooked.

“Ah, right. The brush is getting worn out, I think. Could you help me look for a new one? I’d prefer something a bit sturdier—Fébra’s horse needs it.”

“Sure. I was thinking I could use a new one myself. Let’s go take a look.”

Armunale’s pair of scouts. To anyone watching, they’d look like a well-matched couple—only, neither had any romantic feelings for the other.

All that affection went straight to the pets, who had them all to themselves.

◇

“…What’s that?”

“Just the two of them, both mad for pets.”

They’re obviously lovers. Anyone who says they’re not after that chat is just plain wrong! Just go ahead and do it already! A little smooch and it’s done!

The princess, peeking at Bnois’s shopping with her heart in her throat, suddenly went wild.

I grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms, and shot Ange a glance.

Ange, standing beside me, nodded silently, then stepped in front of the princess, meeting her eyes.

“Miss Ines~… please calm down~…”

“Calm down? How can I calm down?! What was that sweet little moment just now?! It was clearly a couple picking out clothes for their child! If they’re not lovers, even the gods wouldn’t forgive it—but I won’t forgive it either! Yes, just use royal power to force a marriage! Do it right now! Let go of me, my knight!”

“Like I’d let go.”

I can’t have my subordinate married off without my say-so.

“That’s right. And, Miss Ines, calm down and think it through. There’s still something coming for those two, you know.”

“S—something coming?”

“That’s right.”

Ange’s words made the princess freeze. Seizing the moment, I tightened the lock even more. Now, even if she squirms again, she won’t get away.

“There’s surely still more to come between them. Just imagine it. For example…”

Ange’s example. It was the kind of sugary-sweet scene you’d read in some girl’s manga.

A quiet day, just the two of them stroking a pet together. Not even noticing each other, yet still showing off their little friend by visiting back and forth—slowly, without meaning to, closing the distance. Before they know it, the other’s trinkets are showing up in their rooms. Before they know it, they’re thinking of the other. A cup, a plate—just left there, meant for them. A drink, prepared because they liked it. Finding something like that? Makes you feel… a little lighter, a little warmer.

Gulp. The sound of the princess swallowing hard reaches my ears.

Ange’s imagination’s sharp enough—but the princess seems caught up in it too, already wondering what happens next.

“One day, you start thinking about the future. You ask yourself: Is this really enough? Right now, we’re just linked through our pets. There’s still room between us—enough for a person to stand. But when you realize you want to close that gap… isn’t that when real love begin?”

“S-so! That— that’d make such a lovely story!”

“If His Excellency Ines reaches out right here, that sweet little future might just shatter. Still… you’d try to force it anyway?”

“Of course I can’t! I couldn’t bear something so cruel!”

The restraints undone, the princess drops to her knees, wobbling.

Ange takes her hand, then presses the final nail in.

“We’ll watch from the shadows. Truth is, I’ve been curious about the two of you— I’ve been sneaking peeks, and I’ll report back every step!”

“Please! I’m dying to know! Let’s make a book out of this! Ange, tell me the tale, and I’ll write it down! A noble knight romance— this’ll sell like hotcakes!”

“Yes, let’s do our best.”

I can’t do anything but watch in silence while my subordinates get written into a book without knowing it. Not that I’d dare say anything here—would just end up back at square one.

I shift the topic, glance at Ange. She nods, and smoothly steers the conversation.

“Fine to turn it into a book, but Lady Ines should have fun too. It’s a festival, after all.”

“True, I was nearly heading back to my room! Well then, let’s go! Come along!”

The freed princess marches forward, unbothered.

Today’s outing? Just to enjoy the festival we talked about the other day.

Paperwork’s wrapped up, security’s set, so we’re finally putting it into motion.

Basic plan’s me and Ange staying close, guarding. Ais and the stealth crew blending into the surroundings, keeping an eye out for sketchy types. Also, the spot we’re heading to’s already been checked over by a detail in advance.

“Your Highness, don’t wander too far from us, okay?”

“I’m fine! C’mon, hurry up!”

“Eld, let’s go.”

“Yeah.”

Feeling a bit like some old man watching a girl at a festival, really…

Where’s the next stop again…?

We ended up at the town’s most famous fabric shop—supposedly the best selection around.

Inside, fabrics were piled high, crammed together like a festival’s chaos outside had been shut out completely. Quiet. Peaceful. Like the world had paused.

“Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you, Miss Ines.”

“Sorry we’re taking over the whole place today.”

“No bother at all. With how things are these days, we wouldn’t have had customers anyway.”

The shopkeeper chuckled, going on about the fabric to the princess.

The princess, who’d always liked sewing, listened intently.

I wandered around the shop, picking through the bolts of cloth. Honestly, I didn’t care much, but just flipping through the patterns was oddly fun.

And Ange was choosing fabric with real focus—like she had something in mind.

“You planning to make something, Ange?”

“Yeah. I figure it’s about time to start thinking about winter stuff. And Berjio’s colder than our village, right? We’ll need proper layers, won’t we?”

“Huh. Yeah, clothes are important.”

I don’t usually handle the actual prep—more the kind to give orders—but Ange’s the one who has to see it through. Clothes and food are within the support maid’s duties, so she’s naturally sharp on that kind of thing.

"Place with lots of evergreens, right?"

"Yeah, but they’ve got syrup as a specialty, and they grow some broadleaf trees too, I guess."

"So color probably doesn’t matter much. As long as it’s not too flashy, we’re fine. Coat or poncho—what do you think’s better?"

"Coat’s probably better. We’ll be walking through woods, and ponchos always catch on things."

"Right, right."

Ange was already picking fabric with serious focus—like she’d made up her mind. I figured I’d just get out of the way, so I headed back to the princess. There she was, with the shopkeeper offering a strained smile and the princess beaming from ear to ear.

In her hands: a fabric thick with bright red roses stitched all over… what on earth was she planning to do with that?

"My knight, I found the finest fabric ever!"

"And what exactly do you plan to do with that obviously terrible fabric?"

“See? You promised, didn’t you? You said you’d give proper rewards. And now you’re handing out medals to my knights—‘no thanks’…?”

I hold it in, just barely. This is the moment I must refuse, absolutely, without wavering.

Or else roses will bloom right between a Guard Knight’s legs. They will. For sure.

“But the royal family breaks promises—‘No, absolutely not!’”

“Honestly, why be so stubborn?”

“Pride as a knight, maybe?”

Or perhaps, more than that—dignity as a person.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let it go. Sorry, shopkeeper.”

“Nonsense, nonsense.”

The shopkeeper looked relieved, tucking the fabric back where it belonged.

Then, the princess bought a few pieces of needlework cloth, plus the ones Ange had picked out, and stepped out of the shop.

“Quite entertaining. I’ve enjoyed the stalls thoroughly. I think we’ve had enough, don’t you?”

"Nothing better than that, I suppose."

"Did you girls enjoy yourselves, then?"

"Yes, we got everything we wanted—and never expected to get it from Lady Ines, of all people."

That’s right. The fabric Ange had been eyeing to buy herself? The princess had just picked up the whole lot and paid for it all. Thanks to that, our unit’s budget took a nice, generous hit—way less than it would’ve been.

Maybe next time we should use the leftover funds to treat everyone to drinks.

"Good then. Back to base we go. Make sure everyone else knows to head back, too."

"Understood."

We sent the signal to the watchers on the perimeter, and with our purchases tucked under our arms, we headed back to the base.

◇

Half a month after the princess’s stroll through town, finally came word: the outpost in the buffer zone was complete.

And with that, the base suddenly buzzed with activity.

The security setup across the buffer zone outpost had been overhauled—along with a full reshuffling of the stationed troops.

With three towns and the outpost itself involved, the base was a madhouse. People were running every which way, like a nest of startled ants.

Amid all the chaos, our First Guard Armunale Division, Second Princess’s Personal Guard, was preparing for the special mission set to launch today.

“System mobility. Generator startup mode confirmed. All monitors online. Hydraulic check: OK. Grondia Repesh Connect: normal. Physical processor (Senseboard) link: normal. Slide arm: confirmed operational. Ammo count: Perfilizzi (rifle): six rounds, five magazines. Hujā (shotgun): three rounds loaded, twelve spares. Good lord, they actually managed to make this many.”

At first, I’d heard the Hujā’s ammo production wasn’t going as planned—might have to leave with half the rounds we’d hoped for—but the craftsmen must’ve pulled through.

“Crowpile: four rounds loaded, four spares. Well, that’s on track. Gotta think twice before using it. Harmonica pistol, one spare, twelve rounds. Gear check: all green. Pespilarge mobility.”

I press the button, powering up the unit.

The generator’s output climbs. Heat pours into the frame. I feel it through the lever. I push down on the foot pedal.

“Pespilarge, moving out!”

The hangar lock releases. The unit frees itself. I step forward.

Out of the hangar, there they were—my squad’s two wagons, waiting with the crew aboard.

"Commencing special mission. Objective: protect Lady Ines. Destination: the capital of Belgio. Heard Belgio’s currently in sudden combat due to imperial invasion. Stay sharp, keep close contact. And, Blois and Catrea—you’ll be scouting in unfamiliar territory. Might be tough, but I’m counting on you. Now, let’s move out!"

"Understood!"

At the base’s main gate, we met up with the princess’s carriage and her guard squad. Then, we began our march toward Belgio.

Next time preview

Eld and the others head toward Belgio.

What awaited them as they moved through the woods was a mysterious unit clad in ghillie suits—and a woman leading them.