There was a double knock at the door.
I set down my quill. The half-finished letter could wait.
"His Highness Burkhard. A delivery for you."
It was Hubert, one of my Royal Guards.
"Enter."
The door opened. Hubert stepped up to the edge of the desk, set down a single letter, and retreated back to the doorway.
As usual, there was sealing wax, but no crest stamped into it—a precaution to conceal its origin. I broke it open at once.
—Rumors are circulating through nearby towns that a detachment from the Margrave's house assaulted and destroyed the poison wheat production base, burning the poison wheat. Operatives dispatched to confirm the matter have verified the fall of the stronghold and the death of Lord Lothar. While we believe there is no evidence leading back to your side, the commencement of hostilities will likely be delayed by one year.
"'Believe there is none,' is it?...Well, I did make sure he left his Crest Identification behind."
I held the tersely penned letter over the candle flame used for the sealing wax. Once it caught fire, I dropped it into the unlit fireplace.
"I took him into my service because I was told he was capable... What a useless fellow. As for his family... let's see. Let's claim he went missing near an enemy stronghold while patrolling the borderlands. That will direct his family's resentment toward the enemy nation while dragging down the reputation of the local nobility who allowed a base to be built on our soil in the first place. I suppose I'll play the part of a tragic prince whose valued subordinate was sacrificed to provincial incompetence."
Standing by the door, Hubert glanced toward me, his face rigid with tension.
"Ah, right. How are wheat prices moving in the market?"
"Sir. I am told that prices in the capital remain elevated, even after the rumors began to spread."
"Good. That's fine, then. Even if the issue has been resolved, burned crops don't magically return, so it's only natural. As long as our faction can offload the wheat we stockpiled before the next harvest, we shouldn't take a loss. What of the 'White Angel'?"
"In connection with the fall of the base, bards and minstrels have taken to singing of how the Saint and the 'White Angel' aided the knights, earning them quite a considerable reputation."
"Hmm... That sounds like something I could use to break their spirits. Slip someone into their circle."
"...Understood, Your Highness."
"You may go."
—Now, how should I go about deploying my elder brother to the border? Moving someone who never decides anything for himself takes far more effort than moving someone who does. I truly wish he wouldn't make things so tedious for me.
◇◇◇
Around the same time, across the border in the Royal Capital of Seltheim, inside a secluded room deep within Duke Drachenburg's estate.
"—That concludes my report."
I forced the words past my dry throat.
His Excellency sat in his chair. His gray eyes stared straight at me, utterly devoid of emotion. Pinned beneath that gaze, my mind went blank, almost making me forget what I had just been saying.
"And what are the projected outcomes going forward?"
"...Regarding the death toll across the territories and the prices in the grain market, figures are expected to fall far short of our initial estimates. We believe this is due to the healing provided by the Saint-in-training known as the White Angel, as well as the unexpectedly rapid discovery of our base."
Having finished, I bowed my head deeply. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. I couldn't bring myself to look up.
"I offer my sincerest apologies. I—"
"I have no use for apologies."
"Y-yes, Your Excellency."
Unsure whether I was permitted to lift my head, I kept my eyes fixed on the floor and nodded.
"Next year is out of the question, then. We will cross the border the moment the snow melts the following year. See to the preparations. The vanguard will be that house. I leave the execution to you."
A year and a half. It sounded like a long time, but it was painfully short. The plan to ensnare the border houses of the Equilibrium Faction in debt and force them into serving as our vanguard had unraveled because the groundwork laid through the grain had fallen apart. I had to devise another way. I had to make this work, no matter what...
"Understood... Your Excellency."
I thought that was the end of it. It was not.
"Ah, and one more thing."
My heart leaped in my throat.
"I shall grant you a chance to redeem yourself. You will serve as the overseer driving the vanguard from the rear."
If the vanguard collapsed, the first one cut down would be—me. Failure was not an option. A bead of sweat dripped onto the floor.
"If you fail to secure a vanguard—then you shall be the vanguard."
"...Understood, my lord."
No other response was permitted to me.
I stepped out of the room, and the door clicked shut behind me.
Pulling out a handkerchief, I wiped my clammy palms, calling to mind the faces of the border house heads, one by one.