“Princess Aira Merime von Tilrsimrod der Anarchia?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Lieutenant Jens Will, tactical officer of the Republic vessel Nautile, assigned to your interrogation.”

Unlike Lieutenant Yuvil who couldn’t hide his hostility toward the Empire, Jens Will pulled up a chair and addressed her with natural courtesy. Though she hadn’t expected such treatment, Aira felt her breath catch at the sight of him, so similar yet different from her memories.

No, he was quite different. 

The chest full of medals that had once covered his entire torso was missing. Gone were the golden admiral’s epaulettes that had adorned his shoulders. He wasn’t even a captain yet, just a tactical officer with a lieutenant’s rank.

Regardless, the Imperial ships floating ignorantly outside would soon become his prey, adding more decorations to his chest.

But the Jens sitting before her now, shuffling through papers, looked utterly exhausted. He was probably as tired from the ongoing naval battles as she was. Besides, prisoner interrogation wasn’t normally his job. He must have stepped in because an Imperial princess was such a high-profile captive.

Aira carefully examined this past version of Jens she had never known. He must be around twenty-four now. When he had strode into the interrogation room on his long legs, she had to look up much higher than before. Of course, that was because she was younger and smaller now.

Though he appeared similar in height to Lieutenant Yuvil who still had his gun trained on her, Jens had a lean yet solid build unlike Yuvil’s bulky muscles. Only his shoulders were nearly as broad as Yuvil’s.

But the hands flipping through documents weren’t a soldier’s hands. Long, flexible, and as pale as his face, they reminded her more of a scholar’s hands, unlike Yuvil’s which were covered in scars and burn marks. Yet how many Imperial soldiers had those hands sent to the bottom of the sea? Aira shook her head slowly.

Noticing her movement, Jens finally looked up. His black hair, hastily tucked under his regulation cap, was disheveled, likely due to his busy schedule. His gentle-looking face with downturned gray eyes appeared somewhat dazed. He looked nothing like the coldly brilliant military man she had known.

Indeed, now as then, he gave the impression of a scholar studying frontier territories who had reluctantly been placed on a warship. This incongruity was his defining characteristic. His face was simultaneously familiar and strange. Perhaps that’s why Aira spoke without thinking.

“You’re young.”

His gray eyes narrowed slightly at her words.

“That’s hardly something I expected to hear from someone as young as yourself, Your Highness.”

“Ah, I apologize. I was just surprised to see the famous ‘Hero of the Republic’ in person.”

“It’s an empty title.”

“I doubt that. Your reputation is known to all of us in the Empire, myself included.”

Aira rattled the handcuffs that kept her wrists bound to the center of the table.

“But isn’t it rather careless to secure me with only these ordinary handcuffs, even knowing I can’t use magic? There’s no one more important than you here. You should be more cautious.”

“…Yuvil. There’s no need to keep her tied to the table. Release her.”

“Huh?”

“But Lieutenant.”

“Put away the gun too. She’s just a young princess whose magical abilities haven’t manifested yet.”

Yuvil shook his head vigorously.

“Imperial royal magic can manifest anywhere, anytime. Who can guarantee it won’t happen during interrogation?”

“He’s right. Your subordinate is being too lax. Bring magic-suppressing handcuffs instead.”

“Be quiet, Princess.”

“Yuvil.”

“I’ll correct it, sir.”

Though Jens hadn’t raised his voice and had merely called Yuvil’s name in a voice as tired as his face, Yuvil immediately followed orders and released her wrists from the table. When Jens stared at him pointedly, he reluctantly holstered the gun he had been pointing at Aira.

However, he ignored Aira’s suggestion to be more cautious. She was actually more concerned about their lax security measures. But Jens didn’t even acknowledge her comment and proceeded with his business.

“Let’s begin the interrogation. What ship did you arrive on?”

“…The Girogssar, a Caper-class second-rate vessel from the First Squadron of the Empire’s Third Fleet.”

“Your position?”

“Hostage.”

“Hostage?”

Jens frowned at this unexpected answer. Aira blinked slowly.

“Why else would they put a royal on the Girogssar, a second-rate ship that’s neither a flagship nor first-rate? It’s to tell the crew to earn military achievements and survive if they don’t want the princess to drown. I’m a hostage to motivate the Girogssar’s crew.”

“I see. Since an Imperial princess would never go to the Republic or the Archipelago willingly, you had nowhere to escape to. Your only options were to fight and win, or die.”

“And my death would be even better for them.”

Jens’s pen, which had been moving across the papers like it was flying, paused. When he noticed Aira watching his hand, he wrote something down and asked her:

“Then why surrender to the Republic?”

This time Aira hesitated. When she remained silent, Jens looked up at her.

“Your Highness, you will be transferred to a prisoner-of-war camp under the Fosset Peace Accord, and your subsequent treatment will be determined according to the armistice agreement with the Empire. Your treatment until the armistice is finalized—that is, which grade of camp you’ll be sent to—depends on your intentions. So I’ll ask again: why did you surrender to the Republic?”

Aira’s lips moved silently. What should she say? About her brother’s obsessive madness? About her future husband’s cruelty? About the revenge she carried out with his help?

In her past life, she had surrendered to the Archipelago to save herself and her retainers when she could no longer remain in the Empire. But that had been a foolish choice, and she had spent the rest of her life cursing herself and dedicating herself to revenge.

Yet she never completed her revenge. Still, Aira had been able to close her eyes willingly, believing—no, certain—that her revenge would be completed after her death.

But now, with her life mysteriously restored, the Luten of this repeated timeline wouldn’t know her, just as the Jens before her didn’t.

If that was the case, then the hellish time she had endured was gone, and the object of her revenge no longer existed. She still hated Luten, but her return had erased all grudges. There was nothing left. For her.

What should I do now?

Though she had given orders impulsively in the urgent situation, Aira had no real purpose in surrendering to the Republic. This was simply the only path available to her. The time and place she had fallen into after death seemed to force this choice upon her.

But she couldn’t explain all this. She would only appear to be a madwoman again.

“Your Highness.”

“I…”

She needed to say something. Anything. As she struggled to form words—

BOOM!

“Ugh!”

The floor shook violently with a tremendous noise. No, it was tilting. She slid toward the window, but with her hands bound by handcuffs, she couldn’t maintain her balance. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to fall.

“What’s happening?!”

Jens kicked aside a toppling chair and caught her. Finding herself suddenly in Jens’s arms, Aira stared blankly at his pale chin. It was creased with wrinkles of surprise at the unexpected event.

“Lieutenant!”

“Go immediately and find out what’s—no, damn it. Yuvil, watch the princess. I’ll go check.”

Jens quickly handed her over to Yuvil and left the room, barely maintaining his balance.

How much time had passed since he left? Aira, barely keeping her balance in Yuvil’s grip, soon heard the deafening sound of naval guns.

BOOM!

BANG! BANG!

Yuvil looked up tensely. His face showed he desperately wanted to rush out. Despite the ear-splitting cannon fire, the sound of sailors running, and the shrieking whistles of steam engines blowing madly, Aira remained calm.

He had gone, hadn’t he? This battle would surely end with another medal pinned to Jens’s chest.

Wait. What was this attack? And was the Republic’s Nautile normally positioned this close to the front lines?

BOOM!

“Ugh.”

Yuvil roughly pinned Aira’s small body against the wall. As she swallowed a groan from the sudden impact, she heard a sailor running past the thin wall. Yuvil grabbed her by the nape and dragged her out, opening the door.

“Rocky!”

“Yes, Lieutenant—whoa!”

The ship lurched violently again. Yuvil, who caught Rocky by the neck with his free hand to prevent him from falling, shouted over the cacophony of noises:

“What’s happening?!”

“Bombardment… unfamiliar Imperial forces…”

The sailor’s report was barely audible over the continuing cannon fire, crashing waves, and the rattling of objects, but Aira caught the significant words.

“It can’t be!”

The final stage of the Servolang Naval Battle—the Rokor Battle—was the foolish last stand orchestrated by the 9th Prince who couldn’t accept defeat before the armistice.

More than thirty percent of the Imperial fleet’s vessels couldn’t even fire their cannons, and many crew members had been lost, making it barely qualify as a proper fleet. They were operating ships with severely depleted crews.

The only thing the 9th Prince had done well was to thoroughly conceal the Empire’s dire situation, and in addition…

“Yuvil!”

“What?! Don’t address me so casually! Damn it. You Imperial bastards—”

“Those aren’t Imperial forces!”

“What?”

Aira gripped Yuvil’s wrist tightly. He almost let go in surprise at the unexpected strength from this small girl. But the princess held his hand firmly and looked at him with blazing eyes.

“Take me to your captain, or at least to Jens Will!”