Chapter 85
Chapter 85
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 85
Chapter Title: Rachel's Secret Orders
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“Hoo...”
I let out a deep sigh, loosening one button at the nape of my neck after returning to the Imperial Knights with Sir William from posting those scandalous posters at Eastern Square before dawn.
Modeling, posting obscene materials, guarding the atelier...
Everything was under His Majesty's direct orders, so I had no major complaints.
But I'd joined the Imperial Knights dreaming of wielding my sword heroically to protect people and be their sturdy shield. It was inevitable to feel some disappointment that reality didn't match that vision.
“Hah...”
My head was a mess.
Was this truly the proud duty of an Imperial Knight? Yet as a knight sworn to unwavering loyalty to His Majesty and the Imperial Family, I couldn't help but think I had to handle any task assigned. Those thoughts kept clashing inside me.
The most beautiful sword for His Majesty, and here I was acting like a clown...
“Ugh...!”
“Oh, Lower Knight Rachel Scott. There you are—I was looking for you.”
I shook my head vigorously to clear the useless thoughts as I rounded the corner, only for someone strolling down the opposite corridor to call my name and approach.
“Huh...?”
In the dim light, I didn't recognize him at first, but the insignia gleaming sharply in the darkness marked him as the Vice Captain of the Imperial Knights.
My mind went blank at the sight of someone who shouldn't be here in the dead of night.
“L, loyalty!”
Thank goodness my body, honed by grueling training, snapped to attention with a salute on reflex.
The Vice Captain, smiling with his eyes, brought a hand to his mouth and spoke.
“Shh! Voice too loud.”
“S-sorry!”
What a rookie mistake...
My face burned.
Gazing at me fondly, the Vice Captain beckoned me to follow and headed to a secluded corner where few people passed.
Even after arriving, he checked several times for anyone nearby before pulling a palm-sized silver hip flask from his pocket, uncapping it, and offering it to me casually.
“Care for a sip?”
A thick alcoholic aroma wafted from the small opening.
“No, thank you. I'm still on duty.”
It was a kind gesture to help me relax, but I shook my head and gently pushed the flask away with my hand.
If it were leave or at home, I'd have accepted, but right now I was officially on duty.
No matter who offered—even the Vice Captain—drinking wasn't right.
“Good. I like that.”
As if confirming my choice was correct, the Vice Captain flashed a bright smile showing his teeth, recapped the flask, and tucked it away.
“First off, sorry for seeking you out so suddenly at this hour. It was decided abruptly and urgently.”
“It's fine.”
My heart pounded.
This atmosphere, this vibe.
It was definitely a new mission.
A very important one, at that.
“I was a bit puzzled by your selection at first, but that attitude just now made me realize—you're just short on experience, but perfectly suited for this mission.”
“...!”
I nearly gasped aloud.
The moment had come where my personal rule of never slacking off during duty proved its worth.
Some called it foolish, but I'd just proven it wasn't pointless.
“On the eve of Founding Day—Wednesday the 12th—you'll begin a new dispatch mission.”
“Dispatch mission...”
My heart raced, breath quickening, lips twitching upward, but I forced a calm expression and asked carefully.
“Details are top secret, so I can't say yet. It's a bit early, but I'm giving you a heads-up to prepare those around you discreetly.”
“...!”
Top secret!
It was news that made me cheer inwardly.
Espionage? Escort? Infiltration?
Various missions that couldn't be leaked casually flashed through my mind.
“You'll learn the details on the day. Sorry I can't tell you more due to the secrecy.”
“No, sir. I'll give my all no matter the task. In fact, it's an honor to get this chance.”
Straightening my back and head, showing genuine delight, the Vice Captain chuckled and patted my shoulder.
“Your enthusiasm is a sight to behold.”
“Thank you...!”
“One little hint for your sake: It'll be somewhere not far from the Imperial Capital.”
“Ah...!”
A dispatch not far from the Imperial Capital.
That narrowed it to two options: the Palace or Intelligence.
Either was a knight's dream assignment.
“I'll do my utmost...!”
“Mm. Good luck.”
Suddenly, my body felt light, like I could handle anything.
“Yawn~”
Sex diversion east... Wait, since it's east-west reversed, west diversion east? Anyway, while everyone focused west, I snuck out at dawn with Sir Rachel to plaster posters east and bolt.
“Making clothes and posting ads ends this week. Next weekend, nothing.”
After scarfing down breakfast, I headed to the atelier, gathered the staff for the third outfit meeting, and dropped the mildly shocking news.
“Last one?”
“Sir William, isn't the final weekend the most crucial?”
The staff, sitting calmly, bristled at the word "last" and protested. Look at those venomous glares.
“There's a very reasonable reason, so calm down, everyone?”
I gestured for the workaholic reactors to sit, then pointed at the calendar on the wall.
“Founding Day's Thursday, but excluding the main event, the eve adds two days, right? Plus tons of minor ones.”
“True.”
Empire's biggest holiday outside New Year's—personal banquets surge too. That's why some call it Founding Day "Week."
“That week, no matter what, all eyes on Founding Day. Better not waste effort—focus on the events.”
“Hmm... But skipping entirely feels like a waste, no?”
“Who said skipping?”
“Pardon?”
“We've got one killer outfit.”
I pointed at Princess Elizabeth's dress.
“Elizabeth's dress alone will draw eyes.”
“Ah!”
“You were still making that?”
“Haven't touched it much at the atelier lately.”
“Did it at home nights.”
“Huh.”
“Whoa...”
The human staff gawked at me like a monster upon hearing I'd sewn all day then at home.
“...Don't you have any personal life, sir?”
“Even I have hobbies... Uh...”
Racking my brain, nothing came up but work, sewing, sleep. Used to read, draw in my room—but now all sewing-related. Forcing one: Late-night tea with Emily when I couldn't sleep.
“None...?”
“No wonder you're always holed up...”
“Um... Go have some fun. We attend balls, tea parties normally.”
“Living the perfect life... inhumanly.”
“......”
Seeing Adelaide's envious look, I resolved to seriously rethink my habits. No way a sewing addict's routine was normal by human standards.
“After Founding Day, how about a staff picnic?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds good.”
“Ahem...!”
Under their pitying stares, I cleared my throat awkwardly and cut in.
“Anyway! Founding Day, we go with Elizabeth's dress. Got it?”
“Do as you like.”
I wanted to protest my social skills weren't shattered, but that'd make it worse—so I wrapped up hastily, feigning discomfort.
“So, what for this week?”
“Something bigger. Panties are too small—blink and done, no thrill.”
“Last was intense; go milder this time? Draws more eyes to the dress?”
“This ad won't get seen much anyway—slapdash is fine.”
“Huh?”
“All ad-worthy squares getting blocked.”
Anyone not an idiot stations guards at crowds. Might seem manpower-rich, but Duke's house overflows with it. Bribe patrolling officials with shiny gold sincerity—even 30 minutes tops before blocked.
“Then doing it or not—pointless?”
“Ads already plenty. Satisfied with the provocation.”
We'd shown plenty we do this; post-Founding Day reservations proved it. Started more "eat this" than promo anyway—fits true goal.
“Sir William, must it be squares?”
“Huh? Where else? My house?”
“Sacrifice one carriage, circle Imperial Capital?”
“Oh, that.”
I'd considered Prince Herbert's idea. Like bus/subway ads in my past life—some here toured carriages periodically.
“What'd the coachman do wrong?”
But that's for legit ads. Why photograph myself, print in family territory, post personally? Legal heat—I take the bullet.
“Outsource, headaches later. Can't drive carriage.”
“Super simple fix.”
“What?”
“Use bat beastkin.”
“What're you talking about?”
Didn't compute. Bat beastkin grant extraterritoriality? Only diplomats get that.
“Only blind race that can coach: cave bats. Special sounds sense surroundings; 'didn't see' excuse works.”
“Hmm~ Not bad.”
“Heh~”
Prince Herbert puffed proudly, chin up. Plan-wise solid, but existence of such person? Another level.
“But... bat beastkin coachmen exist?”
Even with billions, need one willing. Beastkin reclusive; bats extra insular, wary. How recruit?
“Ah.”
“Sigh...”
I sighed deeply, shaking my head at Prince Herbert's belated realization. Our Herbert—brilliant ideas, zero execution. Mix half with Fanny's safe plays: perfect.
“Or horse-pull cart?”
“Cart?”
“Tiny one-person cart—even horse-illiterate can pull if knows basics.”
“Yeah.”
“Fix mannequin on, circle Imperial Capital.”
I can lead horse solo; slow trot, cart trails fine. Mannequin maximizes exposure. And technically, Imperial Capital's first equestrian runway. Pioneering even.
“Hey, that's gold. Let's do it.”
I hear punishment escalating, but no holding back.