I Won’t Let the Execution Battalion Die, ~Even If the Empire Falls, We Want to Survive~

While slight changes occurred in the relationship between Second Lieutenant Crimine and me, we toured several major southern cities investigating anti-imperial faction movements.

Just the two of us—and not professional intelligence agents at that—couldn’t accomplish much, but we still managed to gather considerable information.

Finally, we reached Lumeno, a commercial city at the southern tip.

This was a water city with canals running through it. I’d never been there, but I’d heard Venice was like this. I should have visited.

“So this is the city where your family home is. This is where the Dines family, one of the Empire’s leading merchant houses…”

Then Second Lieutenant Crimine chuckled softly.

“It’s more like there’s a city inside our family estate.”

What did that mean?

On the gondola gliding over the water, Second Lieutenant Crimine answered:

“Strictly speaking, we’ve already entered our family grounds. All the townscape you see here consists of residences for our family’s live-in servants.”

“I see.”

I’d heard there were people of such scale among nobles in my previous life too. Owning an entire community would satisfy one’s desire for control, and living in that community would keep oneself safe.

“So this gondola’s boatman is also…?”

“Haha, you caught me. I’m in charge of the young lady’s gondola—name’s Lesse. Please favor me with your patronage.”

The elderly boatman deftly manipulating his oar removed his hat and bowed. Apparently it was true.

Since entering this city, I’d been emphatically told “Please absolutely don’t call me Sue Vagils,” which now made sense.

If everyone was family, keeping the “public” face hidden would certainly seem more effective. It was a lifeline, a sanctuary identity for emergencies.

Conversely, the pseudonym used in the Ceremonial Battalion wasn’t that important—a disposable shell that could be abandoned anytime.

But in that case, I needed Second Lieutenant Crimine to tell me her real name. I asked in her ear so the boatman wouldn’t hear:

“Could you tell me your real name soon?”

“Just the surname Dines should be enough, right?”

That wasn’t enough. Why wouldn’t she tell me her name?

That question would be resolved soon.

“Welcome, my sister Gabadeli’s fiancé!”

Huh?

I looked at Riesha Crimine, aka Sue Vagils, aka Gabadeli Dines beside me.

I hadn’t been told about this. About, well, various things.

(Why am I being treated as a fiancé here too!?)

(Oh myy, how straaange… I wonder why?)

(Don’t act innocent, Gabadeli!)

(If you call me by that name again, I’ll steal all your laundry, Lieutenant!)

Watching us glare at each other intensely, the formally dressed young gentleman looked confused.

“Um, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all.”

I pushed up my disguise glasses and regained composure.

“It’s an honor to meet you. I’m military doctor Roxon Boltaren. I practice internal medicine.”

“Likewise. Dines family heir, Polhartoi Dines.”

Second Lieutenant Crimine’s older brother. He also had a strange name.

Then Gabadeli… no, Second Lieutenant Crimine glared at her brother.

“Please don’t loudly call that embarrassing name, Nii-sama.”

“What’s embarrassing about the goddess of beauty’s name, sister?”

“Then since you bear the name of the war god Polhartoi, please don’t make disgusted faces when introducing yourself.”

Polhartoi was making an openly disgusted expression.

“That damn old man…”

“He really is a damn old man…”

I somewhat understood—I could tell the current head had gotten a bit carried away naming his children. Probably names of local ancient deities.

I’d be somewhat troubled if my name were Tajikarao too, so I understood the feeling.

(T/N: Ame-no-tajikarao (アメノタヂカラオ) is a Japanese deity (kami) of physical strength who appears in Japanese mythology.)

Polhartoi stared at me intently, muttering “Lucky… Roxon…” You should use a pseudonym too.

Second Lieutenant Crimine asked her brother:

“Where is father?”

“Father has appointments scheduled a year and a half in advance. He’s currently visiting the Barja Islands’ kings to request port usage permits. Normally he’d delegate such matters to subordinates, but negotiations stalled so father went himself.”

The Dines family had expanded from water transport to overseas trade, still actively pioneering sea routes. They possessed several usable ports outside the Empire, building enormous wealth by lending their names to let the Imperial Household and nobles use them.

Polhartoi turned back to me.

“I apologize that the family head isn’t here to greet you despite your visit.”

“Not at all—I’d abandon appointments to treat emergency patients too. I respect those dedicated to their work.”

While deflecting with appropriate responses, I raised my alert level mentally.

If a daughter returned home with her fiancé, even a commoner father would make some effort to meet him.

And for a family like the Dines, among the nation’s top wealth holders, meeting importance would increase even more.

If money-grubbing scoundrels infiltrated the family, it could be fatal.

Heir Polhartoi was still in his twenties—probably not yet matching his father in judging people. Insufficient as a fiancé interviewer.

Of course, he might plan to meet again later, but as someone deceiving others with false identity, I had to consider the possibility they were deceiving too.

“First let me show you to your rooms. How about tea after you’ve put down your luggage?”

“Oh, that sounds excellent. I’d be delighted to accept.”

While playing the carefree military doctor, I exchanged glances with Second Lieutenant Crimine.

I’d give her a trump card.

*****

We put down our luggage, dressed lightly, and were invited to one of many buildings.

Second Lieutenant Crimine, wearing a thin dress with exposed shoulders, looked nostalgic.

“The reception mansion.”

“Not reception room?”

“Right. There are dozens of guest rooms for lodging too, with servants maintaining them daily. Though we hardly use them.”

Rich people were amazing. That was like maintaining a hotel with 0% occupancy rate.

But hearing that, I felt my anxiety approaching certainty.