"Then why did you tell us not to inform the officers?"
"Ah, they'll just get sick briefly and recover. They don't possess enough divine power to require strenuous operation."
"They're not exactly overflowing with sacred energy either."
"Still, wouldn't healthy soldiers be more beneficial to our forces?"
"But ailing soldiers make convenient excuses."
"Yes."
"Then were you planning to extend our stay without justification?"
Ah, now that he mentioned it, Mia had indeed insisted on remaining longer in Glen. Etienne had been willing to accommodate her, though as someone who could authorize such matters with a single order, he'd seen no need for pretexts. Still, having proper justification never hurt.
Etienne asked despite knowing better:
"But how did you know the alcohol was poisoned?"
"I tested it."
The immediate reply was absurd. On whom? Pushing further might unravel something irreversible.
"Has your curiosity been satisfied?"
"...Yes, broadly."
"Then come. Change into less conspicuous clothing."
Etienne nodded silently. At this late hour, few establishments remained open. Moreover, given their recent alcohol-related conversation, their destination was obvious.
"We'll meet Leonard en route."
"Understood."
"And henceforth, call me Ellie during such outings."
"Ellie?"
"My middle name. Short for Elizé. The nickname lends us a lover-like guise."
"Ah. Then address me as Max."
The brisk exchange suited them. Etienne had always been perceptive, even in his past life. Mia nodded curtly, pointedly ignoring the subtle smile in his voice.
The tavern door clinked open. Three shabbily dressed entrants drew no attention. A hooded woman claimed a corner table, ordering "your strongest drink" with false bravado before ignoring her untouched glass to stare through grimy windows.
Her two male companions seemed oblivious to their purpose here. One particularly resembled a disgruntled cat forced into bathwater.
The bustling atmosphere carried universal tavern chatter - job prospects, get-rich-quick schemes - topics far removed from the concerns of two well-funded ducal heirs. They sat motionless amidst the noise, staring blankly at nothing.
Though dressed like others, their presence felt distinctly alien.
"I said I'll pay! Why refuse?"
"We don't take that currency! Are you deaf?"
CRASH! Shattering crockery and shouts redirected the crowd's attention. Mia studied the commotion's epicenter - soldiers from Etalon, judging by their insignia.
"I specifically warned against drawing attention..." came a displeased mutter nearby. Mia turned toward the voice.
"Max."
"Yes?"
"Do you carry silver coins?"
"Why would I?"
Mia lowered her voice. "Unless you fancy reenacting that scene." The slightly tipsy commander finally connected the dots.
"You mean to use silver?"
"You knew Glen rejects mixed currencies."
"Ah." Etienne's excuse about border regions accepting both metals wasn't incorrect - except in Glen's case. Uncharacteristic sloppiness for him, but understandable given his exhaustion from continuous festivities, piled responsibilities, and Mia's abrupt kidnapping.
"You don't have any?"
"How could I?"
Even in her past life, Mia couldn't access military funds. "Strategists who never see battle shouldn't handle budgets" - the emperor's transparent excuse for sidelining her remained effective. Her current position as Etienne's "lover" offered marginally better treatment, but without operational achievements, her standing hadn't improved.
Beyond their poor preparation, the tavern's behavior was peculiar. Glen's recent incorporation into Veridian territory should've normalized currency mixing, unless...
Mia sipped her drink, cold eyes tracking the chaos while performing mental calculations.
Thud.
Action came abruptly. Mia kicked Leonard's chair leg. The push wasn't forceful, yet he staggered unnaturally - his movements clearly manipulated.
"Wha-? Damnation!" The drunken shout redirected attention from the soldiers. Leonard flailed through the crowd before "accidentally" punching a patron.
Only two noticed the crimson glow around his ankle.
"Your Excellency cultivates interesting hobbies," Etienne murmured without reproach.
"Correcting problematic soldiers," Mia countered.
"Unorthodox methods for military discipline."
"Within a commander's discretion."
"Hmm... technically true."
Their shared smile contained no mirth - Mia's grin particularly ominous. This wasn't petty revenge, but the first move in larger plans.
"You excel at commanding attention."
"...Yes."
"There will be loud noises from the warehouse shortly."
"...Though no one approached it."
Etienne sighed internally. Simple tasks felt burdensome when orchestrated by others.
"Must I always handle the troublesome roles?"
"We each play to our strengths."
Leaving the borderline-insubordinate remark hanging, Mia vanished behind the counter. Her conspiratorial tone permitted no refusal.
The warehouse felt unnaturally dark. The owner's anxious gaze darted about, uncertain whether seeking disturbance sources or realizing extinguished lamps.
It mattered little. Before he could decide, an arctic voice spoke behind him:
"Where's Shaten?"
The so-called "borderless liquor" existed only here. Few truly considered it alcohol - its production mysteries and effects too aberrant. Mia suspected it wasn't spiked drink but pure poison masquerading as spirits, providing perfect excuses for power plays. Nearly becoming its victim herself granted sufficient justification for this intrusion.
Barging into storerooms unannounced to seek unknown substances didn't suggest friendly intentions.
"Who are you?" the pallid owner demanded.
"Don't recognize me?" Mia's brazen retort provoked his fury - until she whispered:
"When the goddess' glory shines brightest..."
