Previously
Henrietta and Kalinin visit a seal shop where she picks out a custom monster-themed seal set for his nephew, forcing Kalinin to pay. Henrietta admires an expensive magic stone seal but settles for a modest olive wood one for herself.
Tinkle.
The shop bell jingled as the door swung open. Henrietta dragged herself inside, looking utterly drained. Sitting within, leisurely sipping tea, Kalinin took one look at her arms loaded with packages and thought, ‘Just as expected.’
“Unless you are a local, you shouldn't wander in there so carelessly.”
“…You're still here? And why didn't you warn me sooner? That place was genuinely terrifying. They practically suck the soul right out of you.”
“Heresruen. Otherwise known as the Street of Suckers. The merchants there are artisans at draining the pay envelopes of outsiders and clueless recruits. Since there have never been female soldiers before, the sight of a private like you must have looked like exceptionally fresh game.”
“I didn't feel like game; I felt like a pet being fattened up. My stomach is about to burst! What was I supposed to do, turn down the food they shoved in my face? And it was shockingly cheap and delicious! The goods were incredible value for money, too!”
She had indeed been played for a sucker, yet rather than feeling taken advantage of, she felt remarkably pampered.
The prices had been low, the flavors rich, and the portions generous. Merchants had swarmed her, each practically dragging her into their stalls to shower her with delicacies and wares. By the time her senses returned, her monthly pay envelope was noticeably lighter.
“Heresruen serves as a bustling market street for commoners, and they are especially welcoming to military personnel.”
“Because soldiers spend a lot of money there?”
“More because it is where those who lost their homes and land to monster incursions settled after receiving their compensation.”
Nowadays, clear borders stood between the forest and the settlements, keeping the villages safely distant. In the past, however, that had not been the case, and many had suffered grievous losses.
That was why the people of Heresruen were so generous toward soldiers. It was rooted in a shared grudge against the monsters, gratitude toward the Krakow army that shielded them from such beasts, and deep reverence for the late Duke, whose compensation payments had offered profound solace to his afflicted subjects.
Just as a faint warmth began to stir in Henrietta's chest,
“Even so, they are merchants. They never do anything that loses them a copper. Fleeced is fleeced.”
Now that he mentioned it, she realized she had let smooth-talking merchants talk her into buying things she didn't remotely need. Even when her stomach was bursting, she had kept eating because she couldn't bring herself to refuse.
Henrietta peered at the bundles in her hands, her expression hardening with resolve as she pivoted toward the door.
“Recruits who head back for a refund usually end up surrendering every last coin they have left.”
At the Division Commander's dry warning striking her back, Henrietta squeezed her eyes shut and marched briskly toward the counter instead.
“Is it finished?”
“Yes, it's all ready. Here you are.”
“Huh? Why are there two?”
The shopkeeper held out an extra case alongside the one she had ordered.
“The Division Commander requested this for you.”
Taking the box in dazed surprise, Henrietta gave the Duke an utterly baffled look.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“I find my nephew's gift quite satisfactory.”
“Pardon? You haven't even sent it to him yet!”
“I like it. A mission completed with distinction deserves a fitting reward.”
“Calling it a mission is a bit much…. Regardless, thank you.”
Assuming it was merely payback for the 'Good Job' stamp, Henrietta opened the case without any real expectations.
And yet,
“!”
Henrietta's already wide eyes went even wider.
“This is the one I was looking at earlier…!”
The magic stone seal she had stared at with bewitched, greedy eyes now rested securely in her grasp. And in her other hand sat the olive wood seal that had felt so precious and proud only moments before.
Next to the lustrous magic stone, the wood had lost all its charm, looking plain and wretched.
Henrietta squeezed the wooden seal in her fist, suddenly feeling a deep, profound empathy for Billy's sense of deprivation.
“Thank you… Division Commander. May I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“You don't… have any friends, do you?”
***
“You don't… have any friends, do you?”
He wasn't sure who was in any position to say that to whom.
Instead of answering, Kalinin merely regarded Henrietta with sunken, unblinking eyes.
She stood there trembling with sheer delight, clutching the gifted seal. If she was that thrilled, what was her grievance?
A seal, by definition, was meant to be enduring. He hadn't cared for her choice of olive wood—a material notorious for cracking—for her family crest. He had wanted to stop her, but lacking any real justification to interfere, he had used her gift as an opening.
When one depleted a private's modest pay envelope, common decency dictated paying it back. Yet this ungrateful private had chosen to launch an unprovoked personal attack.
“Publicly insulting a superior officer is an offense punishable by—”
“It wasn't an insult! How is asking if you have friends an insult? I don't have friends either!”
“Precisely.”
“Excuse me? Wait. What does that mean? Don't tell me you think being compared to me is an insult?”
“Think whatever you like. And strictly speaking, it isn't true that I lack friends. It's someone you know as well.”
“Ah. Don't tell me you mean the Captain? But are you so sure he feels the same way?”
“Billy might find me somewhat burdensome, yes.”
He was infuriatingly obnoxious, but because he wasn't wrong, she had no comeback.
“Hah. Fine. In any case, this gift is far too burdensome for me. I cannot accept it.”
“Then are you suggesting I should use a private's seal?”
“You ought to have thought about that before giving it to me! Why would you buy a gift that can't even be returned?”
At that, the Division Commander held up the back of his hand. The words <Good Job> remained boldly visible.
“How on earth is that the same thing? The price bracket isn't even in the same realm!”
“Neither is the gap between your fortune and mine, so there is no need to feel burdened.”
“A gift should bring joy to the recipient, not mere self-satisfaction to the giver! I simply cannot keep this.”
Having issued her firm refusal, Henrietta held out her hand to return it. Yet the Division Commander made no move to take it, leaving her hand hovering awkwardly in the air.
“Please take it back. Before I change my mind!”
“I believe you're offering the wrong hand.”
“What?”
Glancing down, Henrietta saw that she was holding out the olive wood seal, and her face instantly flushed crimson.
Her brutally honest instincts had kept the magic stone seal clutched tight, refusing to let go.
“I—it was an honest mistake!”
“If you return that to me, I will throw it on the ground and walk away. Whether you pick it up or leave it behind is entirely up to you.”
“How could you…! You know I'd have no choice but to pick it up!”
“Then pick it up.”
“Ugh! Fine, I'll just pay you back for part of it!”
Wearing a miserable pout, Henrietta dug out her monthly pay envelope. But there were two envelopes in her pocket. The one bearing the Krakow military seal was her salary.
Peeking inside, she found exactly five 1-Silver bills remaining.
“At least let me put this toward the seal.”
“I must ask in all seriousness: do you truly believe five Silver will make the slightest difference to me?”
“No. It's just the price of my pride.”
“From what I know of you, Private, your pride is worth considerably more than five Silver.”
“…”
Henrietta was momentarily struck dumb. The Division Commander was the very first person who had ever recognized that she possessed such an expensive sense of pride.
“What is the other envelope?”
“Oh, this… Ah, because of the matter you mentioned earlier, I intend to write home to my family. I heard military mail is free of charge.”
“I will have it sent for you.”
The Division Commander held out his hand for the letter. Henrietta hesitated, torn between offering the five Silver or handing over the letter.
Though his outstretched hand must have felt awkward, the Division Commander waited patiently without pressing her.
“Then… I would appreciate the favor.”
In the end, Henrietta surrendered the letter.
“Very well.”
Kalinin accepted the envelope as casually as if nothing had happened.
“Then I'll enjoy myself a bit longer before heading back to base. Have a safe trip, Division Commander.”
With her errands finished, Henrietta offered a stiff, businesslike military salute and took her leave.
Kalinin watched her stroll away with a light, carefree gait—looking as though she had no lingering regrets—before climbing into his carriage.
Once he stopped by the post office to dispatch the gift for his nephew, Kalinin found himself at a loose end once more.
It felt as if the noisy, chattering world had fallen back into silence. Then, he remembered what he carried inside his coat.
‘There is still this left.’
Upon returning to base, Kalinin did not head straight for the commander's office, stopping by the administrative support bureau instead.
“Gasp! Division Commander, what brings you here?!”
The non-commissioned officers scrambled in utter panic at his unexpected arrival.
Sympathetic to the plight of his staff, the Division Commander kept his business brief.
“Send this out.”
Checking the address and recipient's name written on the envelope, the sergeant asked,
“Should this go by express or standard dispatch?”
Mail carriages came in two varieties. As the names implied, express was drawn by swift horses, while standard relied on slower mounts. The swifter team ran direct without making stops, whereas the slower team gathered and delivered other post along the way.
Kalinin deliberated for a brief moment. Having offered to send it himself, letting it crawl along by standard mail seemed far too negligent.
“Make it express.”
“Yes, sir! We'll dispatch it immediately!”
Once the Division Commander departed, peace returned to the administrative office. The sergeant who had personally dealt with Kalinin exhaled a deep sigh of relief, then slammed down a heavy ink seal carved with the word ‘Urgent’ onto the letter the commander had left behind.