I Shall Serve You as My Patron and Elder

Ludwig produced a ring. The seal of House Stahlberg gleamed upon it with particular brilliance.

"Take my line. When you need to bark, I'll let you bark; when you need to bite, I'll let you bite. Those bastards who look down on you for your common birth? ...Handle them however you like. I'll take care of the fallout myself."

From my standpoint, it was an offer beyond anything I could have hoped for. Of course, there's no such thing as a free lunch.

"And how steep an interest shall I be paying back?"

"Interest, is it... You really do speak my language."

Ludwig allowed himself a sly smile.

"For now, consider it paid by taking good care of my daughter. The girl has talent, but her temper is pure gunpowder. A cold one like you needs to be standing beside her, holding her reins."

He paused for a moment, then fixed me with a meaningful look.

"Of course, if you're capable of it... there's no harm in mounting that wild horse yourself. House Stahlberg prizes ability over blood."

...Excuse me?

"I shall bear it in mind."

"Good. Off you go. Erika's probably wearing a hole in the floor out there."

I rose from my seat and delivered a crisp salute.

"For the Empire."

Just as I pocketed the ring and turned to leave, Ludwig's voice came from behind me.

"Lieutenant Jäger."

"Yes, Your Grace."

I stopped and turned back to him. Ludwig had risen from his chair and stood before the massive imperial map hanging on the wall, his enormous shadow draped across the whole of it.

"It isn't the idiotic princes who prop up this rotting Empire. It's we soldiers. The one who holds the sword, in the end, is the one who decides everything."

What laced his voice was more than mere soldier's pride. What would be the right word for it... It was a kind of haegi — the overwhelming aura of a man born to dominate.

"That goal of yours — 'survival.' Why not think a little bigger?"

The heavy office door clicked shut behind me, and Erika, who had been leaning against the wall across the corridor, sprang forward. She came racing up with every intention of grabbing me by the collar.

"Max Jäger! What did you... talk about in there...? Don't tell me, with Father, you..."

I flashed a grin and flipped the ring I'd just received out of my pocket, bouncing it off my thumb.

"Well. His Grace did urge me to give our relationship some very serious thought."

"What...? Ou-our relationship...?"

Erika froze on the spot.

But only for a moment. Her face then flushed crimson, boiling like a scalded beet. Steam seemed on the verge of whistling from the top of her head.

"...A-are you insane?!"

She shrieked at full volume. Passing servants cast sideways glances, but she paid them no mind and lunged for my collar.

"I'm joking. He simply... told me to get along well with you going forward."

"Liar! I know better than anyone that Father is not the kind of man to hand out blessings like that!"

"Was I being deceived all this time, then? It's the truth. Oh, and... he also told me to give his daughter's education a proper seeing-to."

"...What?"

"He said I should be the one holding your reins. Quite tightly, in fact."

My gaze started at her red twin-tails and slid down along the curves of her body — brushing past her ample, swelling chest, tracing the narrow dip of her waist, and settling on the flare of her hips.

"Wh-what are you...!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Erika reacted to my gaze with raw sensitivity. Both her hands shot up to cover her chest.

'Status Analysis.'

Leaving Erika to stew in it, I started walking toward the end of the corridor.

"Y-you pervert...!"

Her shrill cry rang out at my back, but instead of answering, I calmly slid the ring into my pocket.

My private audience with the Commander-in-Chief had been a resounding success. I had gained a new line — a rock-solid one that a mere regimental commander couldn't even hold a candle to.

'Next on the agenda: an audience with His Majesty the Emperor.'

My footsteps felt light.

For the days that followed, the 7th Regiment was run off its feet with parade preparations.

And today, the parade finally began.

The grand boulevard of Eisenburg, the imperial capital, was a veritable sea of humanity. From the rooftops to the branches of the roadside trees, crowds packed shoulder to shoulder without an inch to spare, and the roar they poured out shook the very sky.

"WAAAAAAH—!"

"Long live the Imperial Army! Long live the 7th Regiment!"

"There she is — the Ice Witch! She really is as beautiful as they say!"

"Is that him? That Lieutenant Jäger? The one who masterminded that brilliant operation!"

Confetti in every color of the rainbow drifted down from the heavens, and the military band's march swelled majestically through the air.

Dressed in a crisply pressed dress uniform, I waved from atop a white horse.

"Smile, Captain. The citizens wish to see the Captain's smile."

I murmured to Seraphina, who rode the white horse beside mine. Her face had frozen stiff, as though wilted under the torrent of cheering.

"...I'm not used to this. I'd rather have a horde of orks bearing down on me."

"Orks don't pay taxes, but those citizens do. Sell yourself at the highest price possible."

At my joke, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, just slightly.

Turning around, I found the sight of my 3rd Platoon was a spectacle unto itself. The hulking Gunter was sniffling with emotion, while Kurt was far too precluded blowing kisses at the ladies in the crowd.

"Sergeant Gunter, wipe your nose. You're ruining the dignity of the procession."

"Ahem — Lieutenant, sir! Never in my whole life did I think such ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a day would come... If only my mother could see this!"

Before long, our procession passed beneath the Arc de Triomphe and entered the colossal main gate of the Imperial Palace.

The very air inside the palace was different. We soon arrived before the Audience Chamber.

"Colonel Karl von Dietrich, Commander of the 7th Regiment, and the meritorious officers and soldiers under his command — entering!"

At the Master of Ceremonies' booming proclamation, the doors of the Audience Chamber swung open.

What unfolded before us was a red carpet stretching beyond sight. Imperial Guards lined both flanks, while colossal chandeliers and the gold-leafed ornaments on the walls gleamed so brilliantly they dazzled the eye.

We advanced slowly, treading upon the red carpet.

And I swept my gaze left and right out of the corner of my eye.

The first to catch my attention was, naturally, Ludwig von Stahlberg. He stood on the right side of the red carpet, and behind him filed ranks of military dignitaries in black dress uniforms. Their epaulettes bristled with stars, their chests heavy with medals.

On the left, by contrast, stood parliamentarians in splendid tailcoats, facing the military men across the carpet. At their head was a sharp-featured man.

Imperial Chancellor Leopold von Kallenberg.

If Ludwig embodied the military — the sword of the Empire — then Leopold was the magnate who gripped the parliament and the administration: the pen.

'Status Analysis.'

'As expected.'

The rumor that Leopold and Ludwig were bitter rivals held true. He was clapping with nothing more than mechanical formality. A triumphal procession this drenched in military pomp was surely a bitter pill for him to swallow.

I withdrew my gaze from them and lifted it higher — and the second-floor balcony of the Audience Chamber came into view.

A rustling cascade of opulent gowns and fans. The noblewomen and young ladies who ruled imperial high society had gathered there, leaning against the balustrade and peering down at us with curious eyes.

Two women stood out above all the rest. Hair like molten gold, eyes a vivid crimson like fresh blood — the Empress and the First Imperial Princess, alike in appearance yet opposite in bearing.

'Status Analysis.'

'A piglet, is it...'

Ayelet was looking down at us with her chin raised high. Not a flicker of welcome crossed that gaze of hers.

My gaze traveled last to the highest point of the dais — to the figure seated upon the golden throne.

The Emperor, Ferdinand IV.

He lounged at an angle against the throne, deigning to look down upon us with a calculated expression of majesty.

'Status Analysis.'

"We behold the Sun of the Empire!"

We halted at the foot of the dais and knelt in perfect unison.

"Raise your heads, my valiant lions!"

The Emperor shot to his feet, cloak billowing.

"You have no idea how much the report of your triumph has sweetened my morning! They say you slaughtered the ork vermin of the Grey Forest? Magnificent! That is precisely the indomitable way of war I demanded!"

He spread his arms with theatrical flourish.

"Now, speak! What shall I bestow upon you? Gold? Lands? Or glory?"

The regimental commander trembled with emotion.

"Your Majesty! No reward could surpass the honor of an imperial soldier who has annihilated the enemy and safeguarded Your Majesty's peace! We ask only that Your Majesty's radiance blaze across the continent!"

"Haha! A loyal vassal, just as the rumors said! Colonel, your devotion shall serve as a model for the Empire!"

The Emperor smiled in satisfaction.

"But I am no miser of a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠master. To reward merit with its due is both the privilege and the duty of an Emperor."

The instant the Emperor finished speaking, the Master of Ceremonies waiting at his side unfurled a scroll.

"By the grace of His Majesty, we shall now conduct honors commensurate with the deeds of the heroes who defended the Empire."

As the air in the Audience Chamber grew heavy with anticipation, the Master of Ceremonies' voice rang out, clear and resonant.

At long last — it was time to be promoted.