Translator: KJ

Finnomia was a nation rich in raw materials. It had an abundance of ore and various timbers, the kinds of resources that could form the core of any war effort.

But on the other hand, Mana Stones were scarce, the population was very small, and the country lacked the industrial foundation to process or refine those raw materials.

"......."

Lieutenant General 'Hannu' of Finnomia's 1st Corps swallowed dryly as he looked at the column lined up across the parade ground.

Mana Stones, and trucks.

Either one alone was an immensely precious commodity for Finnomia, and here were trucks loaded down with Mana Stones.

For a moment, Lieutenant General Hannu felt dizzy at the sight.

"Here they come."

Soldiers quickly swarmed onto the parade ground, and before long Maximilian appeared as well. Hannu asked him,

"K-Knight! What on earth are all these......."

"Supplies shipped in through Canilan. They won't have caught Robrus's eye."

If Finnomia was to be received as an ally of the Empire someday, and strengthened besides, now was the right time. After all, the Eastern Alliance was currently in the thick of General Secretary Varmil's great purge.

"Consider it a personal gift from me to Finnomia. A little late, perhaps, but think of it as a gift celebrating Finnomia's independence."

Lieutenant General Hannu's face opened wide in astonishment.

"Celebrating our independence......?"

"Yes."

Maximilian smiled.

"Lieutenant General Hannu. I hold the unity of people and its purity in the highest regard."

Maximilian recited these words in Nomian, and not only Lieutenant General Hannu but the entire Finnomian high command gathered on the parade ground listened to his speech with bated breath.

"Though above all, what matters most is unity. For purity, too, springs ultimately from unity."

This, too, was Johann Georg's script.

"For hundreds of years, Finnomia endured the rule and oppression of great powers, yet it never once lost its own distinct national character."

A rostrum, formed quite naturally as Finnomia's military leadership gathered round.

"The Red Revolution that swept across the East, that radical tide of ideology, and yet you did not yield before it. You bled, you resisted, and in the end you safeguarded the sovereignty of your people."

His gaze swept over the faces of the generals and field officers standing in formation, one by one.

"Such unshakable conviction commands respect. And I, too, as a noble of the Empire, came to hold that respect as I studied the history of Finnomia."

He rapped his fingers against the bed of the truck, tap, tap.

"And so, these trucks and Mana Stones are a small gift to the people of Finnomia."

Words cr⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠afted to stir the pride of a nation. The look on the soldiers' faces left no doubt. Indeed, most of those present were middle-aged men who had lived through Finnomia's independence firsthand in their youth, so their faces took on an even deeper impression of being moved.......

* * *

That noon, the Empire's officers arrived at Finnomia's corps headquarters. We moved straight to the main conference room.

The Colonel-rank tactical officers briefed Finnomia's generals and field officers on the Empire's advanced military doctrine.

"First, the adoption of a mission-type command system. It's a command method that grants broad discretion to commanders in the field, so that when conditions on the battlefield change rapidly, junior officers and NCOs can act on the ground without waiting for orders from above at every turn......"

Each time the Imperial officer explained in this way, a Finnomian interpreter relayed it to the generals, and a clerk wrote down what would become the manual.

"Second, the systematic operation of a general staff."

As a newly independent state, Finnomia still drew only a blurry line between staff officers and field commanders.

For the war that was not far off, a system to systematically cultivate staff officers was absolutely essential.

"Third, the organic operation of communications and radio networks."

......And to the officer's words, Finnomia's generals listened intently, their faces grave.

Just as the delivery of the core doctrine was more or less wrapping up, and we were about to discuss the schedule for field application and live training.

"One more thing."

I opened my mouth to offer a recommendation. The Imperial officer hurriedly straightened his back, and every eye fixed on me.

"I strongly recommend that you organize and systematize a special division that maneuvers on skis."

Doubt rose once more on the faces of Lieutenant General Hannu and several other generals. But there was none of the conspicuous hesitation of the night before.

"Well...... might I ask the reason? As I mentioned before, skiing is a leisure activity......."

Hannu asked politely.

"Yes. The people of Finnomia, every last one of them, young and old, man and woman, ski. It's a natural-born foundation this country already possesses."

If they merely clothed this ready-made manpower in the proper tactics, they would come to possess an elite snow-mobile corps that no other nation could ever produce, no matter how much capital and time it poured in—

Despite my certainty, they still seemed to find it hard to believe. But I intended to push the formation of a ski corps through by force if I had to. There was no need to persuade them. Its true worth would reveal itself in the war to come.

"Give it the most positive consideration you can."

In other words, I would accept no refusal.

"......Yes."

Lieutenant General Hannu added cautiously,

"Also, Knight. Marshal Wirse wishes to meet with you personally......."

At that, even I was more than a little surprised.

Wirse Matheus Mansner.

Supreme Commander of the Finnomia National Defense Forces, and hero of the nation.

Before my Regression, it would have been a meeting beyond imagining.

.......

Cre⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠eeak─.

The antique wooden door swung open, revealing Marshal Wirse's office. A warm fireplace. The mounted head of a stuffed moose. I walked into the room, which held no other decoration to speak of.

"......."

A man said never to have flinched even before the Emperor of the Empire─ I looked at him, Marshal Wirse of Finnomia.

Tall, with a solid, powerful build and a neatly trimmed beard. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he had the look of an aristocrat more than a soldier.

"A pleasure to meet you."

I greeted him first, in Nomian. His eyebrows shot up.

"A pleasure."

"It is an honor to meet you in person like this."

"The honor is mine."

Wirse gestured to the seat across from him. I sat down facing him.

"Curious, truly. The Imperial language and the languages of the western nations share a similar linguistic family, so learning one from another is not so difficult."

He opened the conversation. A weighty, deep voice, of a kind one rarely heard.

"But Nomian must be entirely different at its very roots. How did you come to learn it so fluently?"

"Through my own effort."

Wirse gazed at me with something like satisfaction in his eyes. For a moment, an awkward silence hung in the room.

"The gift you sent was very well received."

At Wirse's words, I gave a small smile.

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Still, there's no such thing as a gift without a price. What is it you want?"

A price.

There was a price, of course.

"Would you be able to pass skiing on to our Imperial army as well?"

"Skiing....... you mean skiing?"

Wirse tilted his head slightly.

The Empire, wanting to learn something as trivial as skiing from a mere fledgling state.

He seemed to find it unexpected.

"Yes. I believe that assault tactics making use of skis could prove tremendously powerful in northern terrain."

I had my certainty, though.

"I'll send troops to Finnomia on a steady basis. Elite, hardened soldiers from the Empire's north will likely be the ones to arrive. I ask that you instruct them."

Robrus's northern territory, too, was buried under cold, snow, and ice no less brutal than Finnomia's.

Once the Continental War broke out before long, ski assault units would become a very meaningful variable there.

"......Let it be so."

"Yes. Thank you."

We looked at each other.

Wirse's gaze tilted to one side.

"Now then, Knight Maximilian. I'm told you spoke very fine words to the people of Finnomia."

"......I take it the generals told you."

I smiled wryly and threw out a question.

"Marshal Wirse. What is it that you pursue?"

The philosophy and conviction held by the man called Wirse.

A piece of history that I might, just possibly, learn from.

"I pursue greatness."

There was no hesitation in Wirse's answer.

"Greatness."

"Just so. Greatness that springs from perpetuity. For me, that is the people called 'Finnomia'."

A tenacious life force that bent under no hardship and carried its lineage onward without end.

I agreed. Very much so.

"But that greatness is never won by persecuting or despising other peoples."

His words carried weight. Was it a remark made with Ezenheim in mind?

"Of course. But there also clearly exist forces that deliberately seek to corrupt and destroy a people's purity and perpetuity."

I countered.

"I call them the Anti-Race."

Wirse looked deep into my eyes, then before long fiddled with his mustache and changed the subject.

"Hasn't the time come for you to be heading back?"

"Yes, for me at least. But the officers will be staying on a few more days."

I rose from my seat. Wirse, too, got to his feet.

"And, for your careful consideration. My thanks."

There was no clock in Wirse's office. No wall clock, where one would ordinarily hang, and no wristwatch either.

He must have heard the rumors about me in advance.

"Everyone has at least one thing they're sensitive about. Come along."

Marshal Wirse gladly saw me out to the door.

As we stepped out into the corridor, a Finnomian soldier approached cautiously from outside.

"Ah, excuse me. Might I take a photograph to commemorate this meeting?"

A camera of some sort hung from his neck. Wirse's brow furrowed slightly.

For a photograph of an Imperial noble, especially a heavyweight like an Ebenholtz, to be exposed to the outside world could be a danger.

But.

"I think it would be fine, so long as the two of us each keep a copy for ourselves."

I said to Wirse. Wirse looked at me as if surprised, then nodded.

"......Very well."

For my part, too, the chance to have a photograph taken with a historical figure like Marshal Wirse was hardly a c⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠ommon thing.

"H-How about here, in front of the fireplace?"

The photographer pointed to the spot. We stood side by side before the fireplace.

Wirse, who seemed thoroughly unused to being photographed, stood a touch stiffly, while I gazed into the lens with an easy smile.

"Taking it now!"

Click!

The flash burst, and our figures were captured on film. The photographer cried out in an excited voice,

"This is a photograph for the history books!"

History.

I repeated the word to myself.

I hoped so.

I couldn't know what kind of man people of the distant future would see when they looked at me in this photograph, but please.

I hoped that such a 'future' would come, without fail.

.......

Having concluded my meeting in Finnomia's capital, I spotted a large poster pasted to the wall of the parliament building.

[ Finnomia Central Shooting Competition ]

A shooting competition.

"......."

The instant I saw that unremarkable poster, a single name flashed suddenly through my mind.

History held countless heroes. Perhaps it was the tragedy called war that molded them into heroes in the first place.

Finnomia had a man who, as a mere common soldier, left his name in military history.

"Are shooting competitions held often in Finnomia?"

I asked Lieutenant General Hannu, who was showing me around the capital.

"Yes, they are. Finnomia has a great many hunters, and since their hunting is a major source of food......"

Finnomia's sniper. The one and only man whom Robrus called the 'White Devil'.

Toivo Häkä.

His combat record was astonishing.

Before my Regression, he had taken the core assets of battle, enemy commanders, signalmen, machine gunners, scouts, and so on, as his primary targets, and gunned down no fewer than some eight hundred men.

Even the most elite counter-snipers the Robrus coalition sent fell before his muzzle.

A monster who, not content with killing hundreds of high-value personnel, had put a bullet clean through the skulls of eight 'Adversaries', the so-called human weapons.

Before my Regression, a man acknowledged as the greatest sniper in the history of the continent.

"Fascinating."

He was of pure Finnomian blood, and a force of Knight-class power who had single-handedly halted the advance of an entire Robrus corps.

Which meant he could become an ally of the Empire.

"While I'm here, I'll provide one of Ebenholtz's rifles as the prize for the winner of this competition."

Finnomia owed that one genius a considerable debt.

I was of a mind to see whether I might make some use of him myself.

If I gave him a fine rifle as a gift, he would think of the name 'Maximilian' every time he fired it.

"Does Ebenholtz use rifles as well?"

The Lieutenant General asked suddenly.

"Of course."

I drew the pistol from my holster.

"I've killed quite a few enemies with this."

"......Ah."

* * *

Whoooooosh──

The deep snow-mountains of Finnomia, where a violent blizza⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠rd devoured all sight. Through that pure-white veil came the soundless footsteps of someone.

His name was Toivo Häkä.

He was a finalist in this year's Finnomia Central Shooting Competition.

He had already passed the preliminaries, which involved hitting fixed targets at up to 500 meters, and now only the final challenge of the championship round remained.

To hunt the most mysterious and sensitive mystical beast of all Finnomia's snowfields, the 'Marcos Lynx'.

—.

There was no sound to Häkä's movements. Erasing even the soft crunch of snow underfoot, he melted into the terrain.

The Marcos Lynx could hear sounds within a 300-meter radius. Which meant it perceived an area the size of an entire village all at once.

The instant it sensed even the faintest killing intent, it would flee at once.

"......."

Before long, Häkä found a sniping point and settled into position. Lying prone, he leveled his muzzle, calculating the strength of the wind, the trajectory of the falling snow, the humidity in the air, and even the faintest ripples of Mana.

"Haaa......."

He fixed his eyes on the Lynx in the distance. No scope, nothing of the sort. Aiming with the naked eye alone, in the instant his breath stopped.

Bang.

The bullet left the muzzle and tore through the blizzard. Hundreds of meters away, a cat-like beast flopped down with a soft thud.

"Did I get it?"

Häkä murmured quietly and rose to his feet. But even as he raced off to confirm his quarry, he let down his guard not for a moment.

These snowy mountains crawled with winter predators far more savage than the Marcos Lynx. If one of them caught sight of him, he might end up a corpse, never mind winning the competition.

"......."

Then, the moment he finally found the carcass of the Marcos Lynx, shot clean between the brows, Häkä cried out in triumph inwardly.

'Got it──!'

His two tightly clenched fists slashed through the empty air,

Whoooooosh──

as the raging blizzard swallowed his quiet elation in white.......

Clap clap clap clap──!

Before anyone knew it the snow clouds had cleared, and beneath a bright, open sky. Atop a platform somewhere in Finnomia's capital, thunderous applause rang out.

"Winner of the Central Shooting Competition! Toivo Häkä!"

First place.

Amid the pouring cheers, Häkä raised a hand in salute.

"Lieutenant General Hannu of the Finnomia National Defense Forces will now present a special prize to this year's champion."

Lieutenant General Hannu came up in person and handed him a long box.

"This is a most precious thing. Keep it safe, and use it, treasuring it as a lifelong heirloom."

"Yes, sir!"

Not knowing what it was, Häkä took it for the time being. The Lieutenant General gave a short laugh and gestured with his eyes.

"Open it."

In truth, Hannu himself seemed curious about the prize.

"Yes, sir."

Carefully, he lifted the lid of the box.

"......."

In that moment, white flooded Häkä's eyes.

Inside lay, carefully nestled, a rifle of a form he had never once seen in all his life. A pure-white, matte, silver barrel. A color that did not deflect the sunlight but absorbed it, as if it held the very snowflakes of nature within.

"Oh...... sh-show it to them all."

"Yes, yes."

Even lifted with one hand, it carried no burden of weight at all.

"There's something written here in Imperial script."

Häkä, examining the side of the barrel, murmured.

"Turn it over. It seems to be inscribed in our own tongue as well."

At Lieutenant General Hannu's words, Häkä turned the rifle and checked the small inscription engraved near the stock.

[ Finnomia, in respect of your people and your conviction. ]

Beneath it─ a single name, deeply et⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠ched in a flowing hand.

[ Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholtz ]

"......."

Maximilian Ebenholtz. The name of the Imperial Knight that had already spread far and wide, even to the mountain villages of Finnomia.

At the silver rifle engraved with his name, Toivo Häkä stared blankly, as though spellbound.

~~~

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