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Annette wore a slightly worn, tattered cape shawl and a black bonnet pulled down low, revealing only the tip of her nose and mouth beneath the shadow of the bonnet.
She stood before a full-length mirror, dotted with handprints, checking her appearance. Carrying a palm-leaf basket, she looked like any ordinary woman from a family.
No one would have guessed she was the Rosenbergs' only daughter in this outfit. Annette brushed away the wrinkles in her skirt and left the house.
Although it was the season of autumn, the midday sun was still warm. Rows of shops lined the streets beneath the hazy sky.
“How about this much? It’s in really good condition.”
“So how much is one basket?”
“I want to fix this...”
The street was quite noisy. Annette walked along, her face buried in the shadow of her deep-brimmed bonnet.
It had already been more than half a year since she left the capital. She was adjusting to life in peaceful Sinseora.
When Annette first came to live with Katrine, she was unable to go out for a while, especially not in crowded places.
She felt like someone who recognized her would whisper that she was the Commander-in-Chief's ex-wife. She felt like someone would throw stones at her, claiming she was of filthy noble blood. She felt like someone would point a gun at her, claiming she was the daughter of a military leader.
It was a contradictory feeling. Wishing to die, yet fearing it.
She spent months confined to her home, consumed by feelings of helplessness, fear, and self-loathing. Katrine and Brunner paid her no attention or urging.
In this quiet and monotonous life, Annette slowly found stability. As Katrine's belly began to swell, she even attempted to go out.
After about six months, Annette was finally able to go to the market. She still had to cover her face, but it was a significant improvement.
Ding.
“Welcome.”
The fabric store owner, who had been chatting away, greeted Annette somewhat absentmindedly. He merely turned his head toward Annette, not even glancing at her.
For Annette, indifference was actually a welcome thing, so she quietly looked at the fabric without paying attention.
She was planning to make Olivia a dress. Her embroidery skills, which had been in disarray, had recently returned to normal.
"Since it's still a baby, would pure cotton be better? Or maybe a circular knit... I think it would be a bit tricky to make..."
While Annette was pondering the fabric, the shopkeeper was engaged in a heated conversation with his partner.
“I said that after Ratland, it’s either Aslania or us.”
"Well, let's say there are a lot of Frances people living in that area, Ratland. We have no justification for it."
"Hey, demanding the liberation of the Frances system is essentially just an excuse. It's just asking for land."
"That's true... Without even declaring war, those barbarians. They'll have their eyes on us, too."
“It’s a hundred times better to go to war than to keep the peace by losing everything like before.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. The royal family and the nobles are incompetent and even cowardly. What the heck...”
"It's a relief now. Whether war breaks out or not, the commander-in-chief will be in charge of the military."
Annette's hand, which had been touching the cloth, paused for a moment.
“Even though he’s from the revolutionary army, he’s been in the royal army for a long time, and he’s so young and handsome that I was worried, but he’s really good at what he does.”
Then the woman burst out laughing and slapped the shop owner on the shoulder.
“What did you mean you were worried because he’s handsome?”
“If you’re handsome, you’ll get what you pay for.”
“That’s just a phrase you use when flirting with women. By the way, doesn’t the Commander-in-Chief ever remarry?”
“It hasn’t been that long since he got divorced?”
"Well, there's that Congressman Gunther's daughter. She was in the militia. Didn't there seem to be rumors that he was engaged to that woman?"
“I think so too... But the timing is a bit off for remarriage. I guess he won’t do it once things are over.”
Annette pretended not to notice their conversation and walked away as naturally as possible. Her heart pounded, as if her identity had been revealed.
All the way through the store, they talked about the Commander-in-Chief's remarriage. Annette's pace quickened a little. It felt like they were about to talk about her at any moment.
Only after closing the store door and leaving was she able to let out the breath she had been holding.
“If you mix it half and half like this, how much is it...”
“...Can I walk?”
The commotion on the street felt particularly dizzying. The hand holding the shopping basket began to tremble slightly. Annette clenched her hands together nervously, then released them.
‘Did you happen to know my true identity and bring that up on purpose...?’
Even though she knew it was an overreaction, the anxiety persisted. Annette stood there, her eyes closed. The voices in her head began to slowly rise.
At that moment, a scream echoed throughout the hall.
“It’s an extra edition!”
Annette looked up in surprise. Papers were fluttering down the street. At the same time, a bicycle rumbled past her.
A newsboy was handing out extra editions with large, black headlines.
“Extra edition! Extra edition!”
People were mingling, picking up the extra editions, and reading them. Annette, who had been dazed for a moment, picked one up. The first thing she noticed was the large, bold headline at the top.
"The Battle of Ratland: The Signing of the Instrument of Surrender"
The hastily published extra edition contained only the essential information. Annette's eyes followed the article's lines.
[1.2 million Ratland troops were annihilated in the Red Line War. A surrender document was signed, including massive indemnities and the lease of a key port. Frances is expected to demand a swap of Aslanian territory...]
Annette covered her mouth with one hand. She reread it several times, but the conclusion remained the same: Ratland had lost.
The result was even quicker and more frustrating than expected. No one had expected Ratland to surrender so easily.
Shocked people began to murmur.
“So what happens now?”
"Shouldn't we declare war too? We're allies..."
“Are we really going to war now?”
"Not right away. We don't know when a declaration of war will lead to actual military action..."
“Anyway, going to war was planned. Oh, Lord!”
"It was bound to happen someday anyway. Everyone, don't be afraid, don't avoid it, and out of patriotism, enlist your sons!"
The surroundings quickly became noisy. Some expressed their excitement about the war, while others remained in shock and anxiety. A few middle-aged women, likely mothers of grown sons, burst into tears.
Annette slowly removed the hand covering her mouth. A trembling breath escaped her. Upon hearing the news of Ratland's defeat, the war truly felt real.
Padania's participation in the war was imminent.
“Frances plans to incorporate the three peninsula nations into its sphere of influence to open a route to the continent.”
“We must stop it!”
"Not now! The human and material losses we'll incur while helping them are too great. We need to prepare supplies to defend against a future invasion of the mainland."
"What are you talking about! If we leave this alone, we'll be setting up a springboard for Padania! Are you trying to cause more damage just to save yourself?"
The excited staff began banging on their desks and arguing. Heiner stood alone at the head table, arms folded, silently staring at the map.
"The war has just ended, so Frances won't be able to give them all. Now is the chance!"
"That's because we can't completely stop them with this anyway! It's much more efficient to prepare for an invasion of the mainland!"
Everyone was on edge at the news of Ratland's defeat and its utter annihilation. The atmosphere became increasingly tense as repeated arguments were exchanged.
Heiner uncrossed his arms, still keeping his eyes on the map. As the discussion escalated into a verbal altercation, he slammed both hands on the desk.
“I have listened carefully to your opinions.”
The quiet yet powerful voice, as if believable, brought silence to the room. A moment of silence flowed. The atmosphere, which had been overly heated, gradually cooled.
Heiner, still fixing his gaze on the map, slowly opened his mouth.
"In reality, annexation of spheres of influence isn't a matter for us to decide. The three countries may not want war. Whether voluntary or involuntary... The problem we face is this."
Heiner's index finger slowly swept across the map.
“Here. Terrarosa.”
The place he pointed to was a southern region of Aslania.
"It's the largest granary in the world and holds a vast amount of resources. Frances will undoubtedly demand a territorial exchange, and if Aslania refuses, we'll deploy a large cavalry force to Terrarossa. It's a land we've long coveted."
“But that time...”
"It's unclear. We can't move immediately. First, let's formalize our participation."
It meant a declaration of war. The staff held their breath. Everyone had expected it, but the weight of what came out of the Commander-in-Chief's mouth was different.
“Military action will commence if Aslania requests support.”
Heiner raised his head. His gray eyes, like the ashes of a bombing, shone sharply.
“We will complete the construction of defensive fortifications on the western front of Padania in the meantime.”
She stood before a full-length mirror, dotted with handprints, checking her appearance. Carrying a palm-leaf basket, she looked like any ordinary woman from a family.
No one would have guessed she was the Rosenbergs' only daughter in this outfit. Annette brushed away the wrinkles in her skirt and left the house.
Although it was the season of autumn, the midday sun was still warm. Rows of shops lined the streets beneath the hazy sky.
“How about this much? It’s in really good condition.”
“So how much is one basket?”
“I want to fix this...”
The street was quite noisy. Annette walked along, her face buried in the shadow of her deep-brimmed bonnet.
It had already been more than half a year since she left the capital. She was adjusting to life in peaceful Sinseora.
When Annette first came to live with Katrine, she was unable to go out for a while, especially not in crowded places.
She felt like someone who recognized her would whisper that she was the Commander-in-Chief's ex-wife. She felt like someone would throw stones at her, claiming she was of filthy noble blood. She felt like someone would point a gun at her, claiming she was the daughter of a military leader.
It was a contradictory feeling. Wishing to die, yet fearing it.
She spent months confined to her home, consumed by feelings of helplessness, fear, and self-loathing. Katrine and Brunner paid her no attention or urging.
In this quiet and monotonous life, Annette slowly found stability. As Katrine's belly began to swell, she even attempted to go out.
After about six months, Annette was finally able to go to the market. She still had to cover her face, but it was a significant improvement.
Ding.
“Welcome.”
The fabric store owner, who had been chatting away, greeted Annette somewhat absentmindedly. He merely turned his head toward Annette, not even glancing at her.
For Annette, indifference was actually a welcome thing, so she quietly looked at the fabric without paying attention.
She was planning to make Olivia a dress. Her embroidery skills, which had been in disarray, had recently returned to normal.
"Since it's still a baby, would pure cotton be better? Or maybe a circular knit... I think it would be a bit tricky to make..."
While Annette was pondering the fabric, the shopkeeper was engaged in a heated conversation with his partner.
“I said that after Ratland, it’s either Aslania or us.”
"Well, let's say there are a lot of Frances people living in that area, Ratland. We have no justification for it."
"Hey, demanding the liberation of the Frances system is essentially just an excuse. It's just asking for land."
"That's true... Without even declaring war, those barbarians. They'll have their eyes on us, too."
“It’s a hundred times better to go to war than to keep the peace by losing everything like before.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. The royal family and the nobles are incompetent and even cowardly. What the heck...”
"It's a relief now. Whether war breaks out or not, the commander-in-chief will be in charge of the military."
Annette's hand, which had been touching the cloth, paused for a moment.
“I heard they just signed some kind of treaty the other day. An alliance or something. After all the back-and-forth, apparently it was the Commander-in-Chief's idea.”
Then the woman burst out laughing and slapped the shop owner on the shoulder.
“What did you mean you were worried because he’s handsome?”
“If you’re handsome, you’ll get what you pay for.”
“That’s just a phrase you use when flirting with women. By the way, doesn’t the Commander-in-Chief ever remarry?”
“It hasn’t been that long since he got divorced?”
"Well, there's that Congressman Gunther's daughter. She was in the militia. Didn't there seem to be rumors that he was engaged to that woman?"
“I think so too... But the timing is a bit off for remarriage. I guess he won’t do it once things are over.”
Annette pretended not to notice their conversation and walked away as naturally as possible. Her heart pounded, as if her identity had been revealed.
All the way through the store, they talked about the Commander-in-Chief's remarriage. Annette's pace quickened a little. It felt like they were about to talk about her at any moment.
Only after closing the store door and leaving was she able to let out the breath she had been holding.
“If you mix it half and half like this, how much is it...”
“...Can I walk?”
The commotion on the street felt particularly dizzying. The hand holding the shopping basket began to tremble slightly. Annette clenched her hands together nervously, then released them.
‘Did you happen to know my true identity and bring that up on purpose...?’
Even though she knew it was an overreaction, the anxiety persisted. Annette stood there, her eyes closed. The voices in her head began to slowly rise.
At that moment, a scream echoed throughout the hall.
“It’s an extra edition!”
Annette looked up in surprise. Papers were fluttering down the street. At the same time, a bicycle rumbled past her.
A newsboy was handing out extra editions with large, black headlines.
“Extra edition! Extra edition!”
People were mingling, picking up the extra editions, and reading them. Annette, who had been dazed for a moment, picked one up. The first thing she noticed was the large, bold headline at the top.
"The Battle of Ratland: The Signing of the Instrument of Surrender"
The hastily published extra edition contained only the essential information. Annette's eyes followed the article's lines.
[1.2 million Ratland troops were annihilated in the Red Line War. A surrender document was signed, including massive indemnities and the lease of a key port. Frances is expected to demand a swap of Aslanian territory...]
Annette covered her mouth with one hand. She reread it several times, but the conclusion remained the same: Ratland had lost.
The result was even quicker and more frustrating than expected. No one had expected Ratland to surrender so easily.
Shocked people began to murmur.
“So what happens now?”
"Shouldn't we declare war too? We're allies..."
“Are we really going to war now?”
"Not right away. We don't know when a declaration of war will lead to actual military action..."
“Anyway, going to war was planned. Oh, Lord!”
"It was bound to happen someday anyway. Everyone, don't be afraid, don't avoid it, and out of patriotism, enlist your sons!"
The surroundings quickly became noisy. Some expressed their excitement about the war, while others remained in shock and anxiety. A few middle-aged women, likely mothers of grown sons, burst into tears.
Annette slowly removed the hand covering her mouth. A trembling breath escaped her. Upon hearing the news of Ratland's defeat, the war truly felt real.
Padania's participation in the war was imminent.
***
“Frances plans to incorporate the three peninsula nations into its sphere of influence to open a route to the continent.”
“We must stop it!”
"Not now! The human and material losses we'll incur while helping them are too great. We need to prepare supplies to defend against a future invasion of the mainland."
"What are you talking about! If we leave this alone, we'll be setting up a springboard for Padania! Are you trying to cause more damage just to save yourself?"
The excited staff began banging on their desks and arguing. Heiner stood alone at the head table, arms folded, silently staring at the map.
"The war has just ended, so Frances won't be able to give them all. Now is the chance!"
"That's because we can't completely stop them with this anyway! It's much more efficient to prepare for an invasion of the mainland!"
Everyone was on edge at the news of Ratland's defeat and its utter annihilation. The atmosphere became increasingly tense as repeated arguments were exchanged.
Heiner uncrossed his arms, still keeping his eyes on the map. As the discussion escalated into a verbal altercation, he slammed both hands on the desk.
“I have listened carefully to your opinions.”
The quiet yet powerful voice, as if believable, brought silence to the room. A moment of silence flowed. The atmosphere, which had been overly heated, gradually cooled.
Heiner, still fixing his gaze on the map, slowly opened his mouth.
"In reality, annexation of spheres of influence isn't a matter for us to decide. The three countries may not want war. Whether voluntary or involuntary... The problem we face is this."
Heiner's index finger slowly swept across the map.
“Here. Terrarosa.”
The place he pointed to was a southern region of Aslania.
"It's the largest granary in the world and holds a vast amount of resources. Frances will undoubtedly demand a territorial exchange, and if Aslania refuses, we'll deploy a large cavalry force to Terrarossa. It's a land we've long coveted."
“But that time...”
"It's unclear. We can't move immediately. First, let's formalize our participation."
It meant a declaration of war. The staff held their breath. Everyone had expected it, but the weight of what came out of the Commander-in-Chief's mouth was different.
“Military action will commence if Aslania requests support.”
Heiner raised his head. His gray eyes, like the ashes of a bombing, shone sharply.
“We will complete the construction of defensive fortifications on the western front of Padania in the meantime.”
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