Anora Wintergard
It's okay to attach Wintergard. The report I'd received came a few days after the meeting. I was still mulling over whether to accept the Bart family's invitation or not. Of course, refusing wouldn't be a problem, but at this point, attending the banquet seemed like the better choice. As Jamuchin had said, if the Empire wasn't all that appealing, surely the North could carve out its own niche market. Seizing this opportunity to give it a proper go didn't sound like a bad idea.
"Fine. Even so, we'll need some collateral in terms of numbers. Let's get started right away."
"To do that, we'll need some personnel shifts. How should we proceed, Your Grace?"
"Hm. But we can't just hand the entire army over to the nobles. I can't stand by and watch chaos erupt."
How could I strip the nobles of their power? For nearly twenty years, I'd done my utmost to curb their bloated influence. Building the Central Forge Reactor had required only the Grand Duke's permission. I'd also worked tirelessly to abolish slaves and private soldiers. Slavery in particular—while humanitarian concerns played a part, the real issue was that too many slaves meant fewer taxpayers.
"Still, we'll need some help. Someone with plenty of experience commanding armies, and even better if they've seen real combat over a long stretch."
"What about General Leor Reward?"
"That's exactly what I was going to say. How many troops does our stammering Leor command right now?"
"Around a hundred private soldiers and three hundred regular troops, I believe."
I nodded. Of course, I could assign any noble for the job. Lord de Wintergard could squeeze out maximum efficiency in record time. But that wasn't the direction I wanted. Someone who could handle something beyond the North's usual military operations.
"Tell Leor to come to Winter Castle immediately. We're forming a new unit of over five hundred, and it'll be heading to a battlefield unlike any we've fought before."
One of my guards dashed out from the Winter's Hall. Normally, General Leor would be at the front lines, but not now. Winter was harsh even on the army. The farther forward you went, the worse it got, so all military activity ground to a halt come winter. No matter how wildly the nomads rampaged, winter in the North meant hunkering down. The Central Forge Reactor made life bearable now, but venture outside those areas, and you'd face the North's full winter fury.
"Where should we select the troops from, Your Grace?"
"Nomads are fine, or even veterans from the south. But make it solid—focus on talented ones."
"As you command."
"How long will it take? To recruit five hundred fresh and stand up the new unit."
"It won't take long."
"Then push it through quickly."
It was just five hundred for now, but this was the beginning. The scale would grow, and I'd need firm means to control it. For the moment, though, it was manageable. I turned back to the paperwork. Jamuchin's formal reports were always fascinating. Maybe because they dealt with the outside world. His closing line left an impression: the underworld. The North could control it sufficiently. Knowing Jamuchin, there was likely a hidden meaning. If the North had solid control, it implied the south was sorely lacking.
"Your Grace, General Leor has arrived."
"Already? I figured it'd take at least a day."
"Have you forgotten? General Leor's wife gave birth just a week ago."
"Ah."
I'd forgotten. Leor and his wife. Isabella, was it? I recalled sending our chief physician because she was nearing her due date and they'd been staying near Winter Castle.
"Now I remember. That's why. I'd blanked on it. Yeah, let him in."
I waited blankly in my seat. Stammering Leor. Lord Reward's eldest son. He'd always been skilled with a blade, sharp-minded—I'd pegged him for a fine general from early on. I still remembered his first campaign. So proud.
"G-Grand Duke, Y-Your Grace, it's L-Leor."
"Still haven't kicked the habit, eh? But good to see you."
His stammer had persisted since childhood. Probably because his mind raced ahead. I beckoned Leor closer.
"So, happy these days?"
"Y-Yes. V-Very h-happy."
"Boy or girl?"
"D-Didn't y-you kn-know?"
Me? "Y-Your Grace was g-gonna n-name her."
"Ah. Right."
I couldn't name her on the spot. I'd forgotten. No wonder Leor had been on my mind lately. I scratched my head at his expectant gaze. I promised Leor I'd name her soon. It hadn't even been about the name that I'd summoned him.
"We're standing up a new unit this time."
"Y-Yes."
"You'll command it. It'll be different from our northern wars. Might not even know who we're fighting."
"Y-Yes."
"That okay?"
"Y-Yes."
That was Leor for you. Oddly, the sword changed him. Shy, stammering, bashful by nature.
"If y-you n-name her..."
Stubborn, too. I formally reassigned Leor on the spot. A replacement wouldn't be hard to find—his father could step in, or an interim commander Leor picked could hold the line for now. Leor went on standby.
"I'll send a letter with the name. Pick it up then."
"An h-honor, Y-Your Grace."
After meeting Leor, I returned to my office. A name. I'd never thought about it before. Whenever asked, I'd dodged with nicknames: Theo, Leo, Io—like generational markers. Hm, what to name her. I started drafting the letter. To Leor Reward. Commander of the continent's mightiest army, great general of the North, friend of the Northern Grand Duke... I filled it with flowery praise, but got stuck on the name.
"What are you doing?"
Deep in thought, Daniela entered and asked. She'd been quietly reading by the bed—I hadn't wanted to disturb her. But she must've noticed my brooding. Lately, Daniela had been drawing much closer. The distance between us felt a step shorter.
"Naming the baby."
"Really?"
"It's rare for me, but I want to give a good one."
What would suit? "Daniela, what do you think? Any good names?"
"Boy or girl?"
I hadn't asked. Couldn't remember. I admitted honestly that it had slipped my mind amid the busyness, despite promising.
"You can't do that! It's so important."
"Yeah."
"Naming a child is a huge blessing. Forgetting it!"
She was scolding me now. Felt like the nagging from my childhood. Didn't feel bad. Something fresh about it.
"You're right. I was too careless."
"Hm, I'll think with you."
Heads together, it might work. We brainstormed names, but none stuck. Some too noble, others too plain. We pondered more than in days of meetings.
"No helping it. I have one I saved for a special occasion."
"You do?"
"If I ever had a child, I wanted to use it."
"What is it?"
Daniela placed the pen at the center of my draft, amid the ornate prose. Suggesting this name? I looked at her, close now. Soap scent—not pure floral, but refreshing. Slender arm, northern garb hiding warmth. Softness. No, sunlight would suit too. Yeah, that fit.
"Hm, such a pretty name."
Daniela dipped the pen in ink and slid the letter my way. One name sat in the middle of the adorned sentences.
"Anora?"
"Pretty, right?"
"What does it mean?"
Anora—lovely, but...
"It means light. You know, the thing you see on clear nights in the North?"
"Aurora?"
"Not Anora?"
A slip. Daniela tried fixing it hastily, but I snatched the letter. She wailed about not ruining the baby's name, but I laughed it off. Anora seemed more beautiful than Aurora.
"Anora's better than Aurora. Let's go with Anora."
"What if they realize it's a mistake? Don't."
"Anora. Light, nobility, beauty. Anora."
"It means that too?"
"Somewhere, sure."
Daniela tried grabbing it back, to no avail. That evening, I pondered the letter's close. Not changing 'Anora'—the sender. We'd named her together.
"Can I use your name?"
"Of course, Your Grace."
"Your family name, I mean. Not sure how to attach it. Daniela, want to just go with Wintergard?"
"...."
Daniela said nothing. Anyone in this world would grasp the implication.
"That okay?"
"F-For now?"
"We'll do that."
I finished the letter, addressed the envelope. Alfredo would send it, and it'd reach Leor soon.
To Leor Reward.
Commander of the continent's mightiest army, great general of the North, and friend of the Northern Grand Duke.
I am pleased to name your child. It took a little time, but know I deliberated long for a worthy one.
The child's name is Anora.
Like the aurora's light, its nobility, its beauty—but not a fleeting gleam, a name for one who shines eternally.
I didn't devise it alone; Daniela bestowed it, ensuring even brighter radiance.
Theodore von Ardorno Iphera Wintergard
Daniela Wintergard