One week later.
The Republic's capital, Elansia, had been completely dyed in the Empire's colors.
The massive steel tower standing tall in the city center—the 300-meter steel structure that had boasted the Republic's industrial achievements—was now nothing more than a flagpole from which the Empire's symbol, the black eagle flag, fluttered.
In the plaza beneath the steel tower, amidst numerous Imperial troops standing in formation, an express train slid into the platform, belching heavy steam.
Screech-!
The train doors opened, and the Empire's heavyweights revealed themselves.
The first to disembark was Field Marshal Ludwig von Stahlberg. With a cigar between his lips, he stepped onto the platform, the coat draped over his uniform billowing behind him.
"Loyalty!"
Our party, standing in formation, saluted in unison. Ludwig casually accepted their salute and first approached Falkenheim, who stood at the head of the line.
"Good work, Falkenheim. The armored division's maneuver was the talk of the capital."
"You overpraise me, Field Marshal."
Then his gaze rested on me.
"Colonel Jaeger, you worked hard as well. You wrapped things up better than expected."
"I simply moved according to the situation."
Following the Field Marshal, Chancellor Kalrenberg and other high-ranking figures of the Empire poured out of the train.
And finally.
From the train's most lavish car, Imperial Princess Ailette revealed herself.
She, the successor, had set foot in occupied territory herself in place of Emperor Ferdinand IV, whose advanced age made movement difficult.
With her golden hair swaying dazzlingly, she gracefully descended the stairs, her mouth covered by a red fan. It was somewhat alien to the desolate sight of the occupied territory.
"Greetings, Your Highness!"
Even at the salute cries of the soldiers filling the platform, the Princess did not bat an eye.
"Hmm."
She folded her red feather fan and tapped it lightly against her lips.
"The air... is rather fishy. Is it the smell of rotting corpses?"
A languid voice.
Chancellor Kalrenberg, standing beside her, cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"Your Highness. Elansia's public order is still unstable."
He politely stretched out his arm, pointing toward the vehicle.
"Please board the ceremonial carriage at once. A signing ceremony is scheduled at the Elansia Presidential Palace."
The purpose of this visit was clear.
The Republic government's official surrender.
A treaty to drag out President George, who was little more than a vegetable, and recognize Henri of the puppet government "BC Republic Legion" established by the Empire as the head of the provisional government.
She had come to stamp the seal in place of His Imperial Majesty for that historic moment.
However.
Swish.
The Princess unfolded her fan, blocking the direction the Chancellor's arm pointed.
"Chancellor. Signing scraps of paper won't be late even if we wait until the ink dries."
"But Your Highness... the schedule..."
"Look over there."
With the tip of her fan, she pointed to the downtown avenue of Elansia, where the great triumphal arch stood.
"Is that avenue the famous Champs-Élysées? It looked so gorgeous in the pictorials, but now it's very..."
The corner of her mouth twisted.
"It looks like a rag."
"......."
The surrounding officers swallowed dryly. Among them were officials of the BC Republic. Naturally, their faces were flushed.
"Take me for a drive. I wish to see with my own eyes the City of Light that was said to be so beautiful."
And here she was saying she wanted to go sightseeing. She was advertising her crazy personality that lived up to the rumors.
"Your Highness! Remnant forces still...!"
Naturally, the Chancellor was aghast, but Ailette had already climbed into the passenger seat.
Soon the driver's door opened and the driver hurriedly got out.
And through the open car window, the Princess's gaze slowly moved.
It was already beginning to feel ominous.
Her eyes, which had been wandering in the air, fixed precisely on one spot.
"There."
She folded her fan and pointed at me.
"You drive."
"......."
Why me of all people.
'Status Analysis.'
[Name: Ailette von Lohengardt]
[Status: Boredom, sadism, joy at reuniting with a long-lost toy.]
"...It is an honor, Your Highness."
I walked over with heavy steps and opened the driver's door.
*
And so began the unscheduled "Elansia Tour."
Rumble.
The vehicle cut across Elansia's main street. The view outside was tragic. Stone buildings had been chipped away by artillery, and crude graffiti condemning the Imperial army was scrawled on every streetlamp.
"......Hmph."
Ailette folded her fan and tapped the window frame. Her red eyes swept across the street.
The tightly shut shutters of shops, hateful eyes glaring at us from between curtains. Whenever Imperial patrols passed, the citizens lowered their heads, but their fists trembled white inside their coat pockets.
"How disappointing, Colonel. I expected a bit more splendid sights from the 'City of Light.' This is just a giant communal graveyard? Not flower bouquets welcoming the conqueror, but faces that look ready to spit at any moment."
"Expecting joy from the conquered is too cruel a demand, Your Highness. They are currently enduring the fact that their pride has been trampled through cognitive dissonance."
"How boring. As expected, Republic dogs are all inflexible."
'Status Analysis.'
[Name: Ailette von Lohengardt]
[Emotion: Disappointed at the lack of praise from the pigs she expected.]
The vehicle stopped at Elansia's central plaza. Standing in the middle of the plaza was a massive guillotine that had been beheading Republic politicians and generals just a week ago.
"Is that the 'Machine of Equality' the Republic boasted of? It looks more crude than I thought. There's no dignity in its design whatsoever."
She folded her fan and pointed it at the guillotine.
"Colonel, tell them to remove this filthy object at once."
"......Understood."
"Instead, how about erecting a huge equestrian statue of my father there? Or... perhaps a full-body statue of me."
"......."
That's a bit much.
Finally, Ailette headed to the center of the plaza. Then she called the photographer.
"Come, Colonel. Stand here. A victor's commemorative photo feels incomplete without a hero."
I stood beside her and assumed a formal posture. With the 300-meter steel tower in the background, high-ranking figures like the Field Marshal and Chancellor took their places, and the Empire's flag fluttered at the top of the steel tower.
Click!
The greatest dark chapter in the Republic's history had just been captured on film.
Having finished the photo shoot, Ailette refused to move to the scheduled Presidential Palace.
"Palaces are boring. No doubt some moldy-smelling old men are signing surrender documents. Let the Chancellor handle such matters."
The Chancellor, who had barely caught up to the Princess, turned pale.
"Your Highness! After all, you are the star of the signing ceremony!"
Ailette had already gotten back in the car. Without even looking at the Chancellor, she gave me an order.
"Colonel, go to your quarters. I need to check what luxuries the hero is enjoying in occupied territory."
"...Understood, Your Highness."
Ignoring the dumbfounded gazes of my party, I drove the car again.
*
A high-class residential district in downtown Elansia. As in Soissons, I had requisitioned one of the most extravagant mansions here as temporary quarters.
"We have arrived."
I opened the car door and escorted Ailette out. Imperial guards in the mansion garden saluted with perfect discipline.
Ailette stepped into the mansion as if it were her own home.
"Excuse me-."
And when the living room door opened.
"Welcome, Your Excellency. Earlier than expected—"
Ellie—no, Sydney—who was dressed as a maid, stopped as she came out holding a tray. Her purple eyes trembled slightly.
"It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. I am Ellie, the Colonel's exclusive maid."
[Name: Sydney Wellesley]
[Status: Surprise, continuing act, caution]
And she immediately continued her act like a professional.
"Hmm...."
Ailette scanned Sydney as if she were nothing and passed straight into the living room.
"Using a maid in occupied territory—what a refined hobby, Colonel."
She added,
"Or perhaps... she serves that kind of purpose...?"
"......."
Whatever she thought my silence meant, Ailette burst into laughter on her own.
"Huhu, what? What's with that blank expression?"
She was so on the mark that I couldn't find a response.
"Ellie, prepare tea. The finest Ceylon tea."
"...Understood, Your Excellency."
I gave Ellie the order instead and took a seat.
For now, I had to deal with this capricious Imperial Princess.
"Ceylon tea, Your Highness."
Soon Sydney withdrew with perfect maid posture, but through my skill, I could tell she was nervous.
[Name: Sydney Wellesley]
[Status: Tension]
Ailette von Lohengardt.
The Empire's First Imperial Princess, an unpredictable bombshell. The fact that she had set foot in this place—in my private space, no less—was an enormous variable for Sydney.
"The tea is quite good."
Ailette elegantly lifted the teacup and moistened her lips.
"The aroma is deep and rich. Much better than Elansia's muddy coffee. What leaves are these?"
"The finest Ceylon directly imported from a United Kingdom colony, Your Highness."
"Hmm, the United Kingdom."
Ailette's red eyes gazed at the dark liquid in the teacup.
"I don't like those island monkeys, but their tea-roasting skills are worth acknowledging. Is it because of the gloomy weather that they sit in corners drinking only tea?"
Clink.
"Which brings me to my point, Colonel."
She set down the teacup and spoke.
I intuitively knew this was the main topic.
"The draft of the 'Post-War Processing Plan' you submitted. I read it on the train."
She unfolded her red feather fan to cover her mouth. The corners of her eyes visible beyond the fan curved like crescents.
"It was very rational. Inherit the Republic's debts to raise international credit, establish a provisional government to reduce governance costs. And even install a puppet like Henri to win over public sentiment...."
"You overpraise me. I simply racked my brains for the Empire's benefit."
"Admittedly, for a soldier, you play the administrator quite well. The old men in parliament would applaud and love it. Less blood spilt, more profit gained."
Was that praise?
If so, it was a voice strangely laced with thorns.
Snap.
With the sound of the fan folding, the smile vanished from Ailette's face.
"However, Colonel. I don't like it."
"...Which part, Your Highness?"
"All of it."
She rested her chin on her hand and looked up at me crookedly.
"Isn't it... too dull?"
"Dull?"
"We won the war, yet the way we're dividing the spoils is too modest. Especially Article 14, Section 3."
Article 14, Section 3.
The clause entrusting administrative rights over the southern colonies, including the Santa Barbara Archipelago, to the United Kingdom.
The United Kingdom's greatest concern, which Sydney had tried to obtain by offering me her body, heart, and rear.
"Leasing the Santa Barbara Archipelago to the United Kingdom Navy?"
Ailette's lips twisted mockingly.
"That prime land? Those golden islands holding the leash of the Eastern trade route? Hand them over to islanders just to save some administrative costs?"
Ailette threw the documents to the floor.
Thwack!
The documents fell at my feet—precisely at the center of the floor where Sydney and I stood.
"Rewrite it from the beginning, Colonel."
Sydney's eyes narrowed.