“This, this, this thing, how can you guarantee it’s real… It must be a carefully crafted fake, right? Yes, a counterfeit, a fake, isn’t it? An imposter! I heard lately there are plenty of villains out there ruining the good names of noble folks!”
“Only a lunatic would pretend to forge something like this, wouldn’t they?”
Erika slowly approached the man slumped on the ground.
As she reached out to take the iron soldier’s badge from his shoulder—his pride and joy—she whispered, “Imposter? Seems I have one right in front of me. Why? Did you think the royal eyes and ears wouldn’t reach such filthy, lowly places? But abusing my name—Erika—that’s something the great me has long since known about.”
Of course, that was a lie. Today was actually the first time they’d met.
“Uwaa!”
It was as if she had shattered his last mental defense.
Though the man looked just past forty, his face now bore the pallor of someone on the brink of death at seventy.
“Oh! That woman, it’s Erika! Erika Angelina! It’s definitely her! I’ve seen her before!”
“Oh, now that you mention it, I saw her last time in the city center too! Ah, with a face that beautiful, you really should recognize her at first glance!”
Like a stone dropped into a tranquil lake, the whispers and shouts quickly stirred up a ripple of commotion.
Whether sincere or not, complimentary or derogatory, met her or not—at this moment, Erika was the focus of everyone’s attention.
“That one is the Queen’s favorite concubine?”
“Concubine? More like a lover with no status. Looks younger than I expected, about the same age as my daughter who just entered the academy this year.”
Leith, the tax officer who had been kneeling before Erika, was now sweating like rain, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Is—is this real? No, Lady Erika, how could you… in a filthy inn like this, impossible, lies, I just, I only liked that young lady, ah!”
Was the crushing pressure driving him to a mental breakdown? His mouth twisted, eyes slack, limbs trembling uncontrollably.
But none of that made this villain deserving of sympathy.
Hmph!
Erika gathered her skirt, bent her knees, and leaned in close to his ear, whispering, “How dare you bandy my name about? Scum like you thinks yourself worthy to be my right hand? Today you’ll be exiled to the borderlands.”
But who could have expected that, just as he seemed about to collapse completely, the man suddenly jerked up in a fit of dying desperation.
“Please, grant me death, milady! To be exiled to the border… you know there’s no way to survive there! I’d rather—I’d rather lick your shoes!”
As he threw himself at the girl’s feet, sticking out his tongue, truly prepared to abandon all dignity to live, despair filled the air.
Erika quickly stepped back, her skirt swirling.
Being sent beyond the ‘Wall’ meant losing all rights, becoming little more than a test subject.
Anyone who’s been there would know—a swift trip to the guillotine would be a mercy by comparison.
“Please! Spare me!”
The man crawled along the ground, inching closer to Erika on his knees.
“Why put yourself through this? If you’d known, why take such a desperate risk?”
Erika could just about suppress the pity in her heart.
“Truly, I’m willing to be your most loyal hound! Whatever you command, I will do! So please, please…”
“You’re no longer a low-level administrator. From now on, you’ll work with the expedition team. Your dagger skills aren’t bad—if you stick with it, you might climb high again.”
“Heh, heh heh! Long live Her Majesty the Queen! Beautiful kingdom of Noel! Ah, the great rivers and banks, my homeland, the clear streams babbling on…”
Half-delirious, he even began to sing the anthem of Noel, pouring out his desperate hope for the girl’s recognition.
Seeing this, Erika, as a human being rather than a sycophantic seductress, felt her heart waver just a little.
Yet she could not forgive this man.
If she let such people act in her name for their own misdeeds, others would surely follow.
From now on, she’d cut down every imposter she found. Mercy for the wicked brought not gratitude, but paper flowers watered with blood.
The flowers of evil.
“Someone take this man away, hand him to the city guards. I am Erika Angelina. If you say he’s to be sent outside the Wall, he’ll understand.”
She took out her signaling whistle and quietly gave her orders to the nearby shadow guards.
Instantly, several plainclothes figures emerged from the crowd and dragged the tax officer away in a flash.
“Aaaah! Spare me! Don’t send me to that damned place, wuwuwu!”
Erika donned her hood, pulled her cloak tight, and laid her right hand gently to her chest. Her crimson eyes flashed, but quickly regained their resolve.
Should the victim apologize to the aggressor?
No.
I am the calamity’s witch, not the savior’s saint.
“Serves that bastard right. Just a retired small official and he strutted around like a rooster. I knew he’d get it one day.”
“Said he had palace connections—what a load of bull, huh?”
“But now that the fox is gone, has the tiger arrived? Erika? Is that woman real? Why would she come to a dump like this?”
“Probably to catch imposters. A cold-blooded woman like that wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of her.”
There was no point staying longer.
Erika reached out a hand to the barmaid collapsed on the floor.
“Uh, uh, wuwu.”
But the waitress seemed frightened of her touch, so Erika pulled back her hand and, lips just visible under her cloak, gently said, “Are you all right?”
“Y-yes. But, did you… just save me?”
Once again, a murmur rippled through the crowd.
“Sophia’s just a fledgling, huh. That witch Erika probably has her eye on the waitress, wants to present her to the Queen for her star-born rage!”
“So you’re saying, this could all be Erika’s scheme? Just a ploy for gratitude?”
“I didn’t say that much, but close. The waitress’s purity might be defiled by that witch! I heard she seduced the Queen first!”
“Ah, what is the world coming to? Still, girls being close… ahem, not exactly proper, but the girls are nice…”
Damn, if only they’d put that imagination to better use!
“R-really…”
The waitress, hearing the gossip all around, kept trying to get a closer look at Erika’s face under the hood. Erika hurried to her feet and called out, “If anyone else impersonates the royal family or their vassals—including me—please report them. Well then, goodbye.”
Erika had nothing more to say, nor did she want to waste time here.
She hurriedly pushed open the tavern door and stepped out, blending into the sea of people.
Would today’s events become some legendary tale?
No, certainly not. It would just turn into gossip like, ‘Erika’s lust knows no bounds, she actually demanded the waitress repay her by offering herself’—those shameless reporters would surely write that way.
“Palace gardener!” someone called from the street, catching Erika’s attention.
She turned and saw a luxurious carriage drawn by two pitch-black horses, their coats as dark as demons.
Carved on the coach was the emblem of a six-legged spider—she realized this was likely a royal carriage sent to fetch her.
The coachman in a black robe called out, “Lady Erika, Her Majesty the Queen is urgently summoning you.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“In Her Majesty’s city, eyes and ears are everywhere. Now, please get in.”
***
Erika hadn’t even changed into her court dress; after taking off her cloak, she was still in a simple black dress chosen specifically to avoid attention.
She gathered her skirt and hurried towards Queen Evelyn’s private chambers.
She had, after all, been granted leave today—something Evelyn rarely approved.
Yet even so, she was being summoned at night. It must be something important.
“Knock, knock!”
“Your Majesty, it’s Erika. Your subject Erika Angelina has arrived.”
She rapped her knuckles on the golden-lacquered oak door and stood at attention.
Soon, there were faint movements inside, and then a voice: “Come in.”
After checking her appearance one last time, Erika entered.
The Queen’s private quarters were a world apart from the taverns and inns outside; red carpets glowed beneath ornate chandeliers, Italian-style furnishings filled the room—a veritable gallery of classical art.
Amid all these treasures, Erika quickly spotted the most precious of all, and bowed her head.
“Your Majesty, you summoned me? What business requires your personal attention so late?”
“It’s important. Very important and urgent. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t call you back during your first hard-won leave in three months.”
“I’m all ears, Your Majesty.”
Erika hung her head, sharp eyes quickly scanning the room.
Though she hadn’t entered the Queen’s chamber in a long while, little had changed.
Yet nothing about the place seemed especially urgent.
Frowning in thought, Erika tried to guess what had happened, while Queen Evelyn—dressed for some reason in her finest formalwear—continued.
“Erika, in a sense, I have an extremely crucial mission for you. It’s so important that it outweighs even my order to Emil to campaign against the barbarians.”
Putting it that way—there’s no way I can refuse, is there?
Erika immediately thought she was being sent to act as warden at the northern rift’s barricade.
Was she being told to inspect those hellish, twisted mountains?
No, Evelyn would never bear to send her somewhere so far.
Yeah, Evelyn would never let her out of her sight for that long.
Wait, could it be she wants me to go with her?
“Tomorrow I’m going to the market for an inspection, but I can’t decide which pair of stockings to wear. Erika, I need you to help me choose. Here, pick one from these two!” Evelyn quickly pulled four soft, delicate items from the wardrobe—two pairs of black over-the-knee stockings, their craftsmanship exquisite.
“Come on, Erika, hurry and choose. This is a matter of utmost importance—requires careful thought!”
Huh?
This counts as important?
By this logic, every high school girl in Japan must become a lawmaker every morning.
Did she really call me back from leave just for this?
Then again, it’s exactly the sort of thing Evelyn would do.
Her Majesty’s scales of judgment were always a bit odd.
Sometimes a cat’s life outweighed a human’s; sometimes tomorrow’s stocking color mattered more than winning a Holy Grail War.
Really, most of Evelyn’s eccentricities stemmed from this misbalanced sense of value, didn’t they?
To think stockings were more important than a military expedition—if Emil heard this, she’d probably swear off drinking for good out of pure rage.
Sigh~
Erika stared at the two pairs of black stockings.
Though their colors, styles, and sizes were all nearly identical, judging them rashly would be superficial. After all, she’d learned in her very first month as an apprentice that black comes in charcoal, ink, smoke, obsidian, ivory, and more!
But these two pairs—both were just black… Isn’t the point simply to wear whichever you like?
This was the biggest crisis in Erika’s life.
She felt sweat prickling under her arms, but she knew what she ought to say at a time like this.
“As expected of Lady Evelyn! Your taste is truly extraordinary. To me, they both look exactly the same shade of black.”
“Don’t feel bad. It takes real skill to tell the difference between these two—I really am amazing.”
Erika flattered Evelyn’s proud statement with appropriate sincerity: “Yes, you really are amazing!”
“Alright, it’s decided then. I’ll wear this one.”
Evelyn chose a pair from the two nearly identical stockings.
But if she was going to choose herself, why call Erika here?
Was there a hidden clue in her words?
“Wait, you mean… going to the market tomorrow…”
“No, now that I’ve seen you I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go now. So, can you help me change into these?”