The report came in a few days after the meeting. I was still deliberating over whether to accept House Barth's invitation or decline it. Refusing would cause no particular harm, but given the current circumstances, attending the banquet seemed the wiser choice.
If the Empire truly held so little appeal — as Zamuchin had said — then surely the North could carve out a niche market of its own. It didn't seem like a bad idea to make a proper attempt of it, using this opportunity as a starting point.
"Right. We still have certain figures we can guarantee. Let's begin at once."
"To do that, we'll need some personnel reassignments. How would you like to proceed?"
"Hmm. That said, I can't hand the army over entirely to the nobles. I won't sit by and watch it descend into chaos."
How to strip the nobles of their power. For nearly twenty years, I had done everything in my power to curb their bloated influence. Construction of a Central Furnace required only the Grand Duke's approval — nothing more. I had also worked tirelessly to abolish slaves and private soldiers alike.
The institution of slavery had been particularly troublesome. Not that humanitarian concerns were entirely absent, but the simple fact was: the more slaves a lord kept, the fewer people there were to pay taxes.
"Still, some degree of assistance will be necessary. Someone with extensive experience commanding armies — and ideally, someone who has spent enough time in actual combat."
"What about General Leor von Riward?"
"That's exactly what I was going to say. How many men does stuttering Leo command right now?"
"Approximately a hundred private soldiers and around three hundred regular troops, it seems."
I nodded. Of course, attaching any number of other nobles would have been fine as well. Lord de Wintergard could extract efficiency in the shortest time possible. But that wasn't the direction I had in mind. I needed someone capable of excelling at something beyond the North's standard military operations.
"Tell Leo to come to Winter Castle immediately. We're forming a new unit of five hundred or more, and they'll be heading to a battlefield quite unlike anything they've fought before."
One of the guards sprinted out of the Hall of Winter at once. Under normal circumstances, General Leo would have been stationed at the front lines — but not now. Winter was merciless, even to armies. The further forward you went, the harsher it became, and so all military activity ground to a halt when winter arrived.
No matter how wildly the nomads might rage, the North's winter was a season of stillness.
Even if the Central Furnace had made life bearable within the city, venturing beyond its reach meant facing the full brunt of a northern winter.
"Where should we conduct the troop selection, Your Grace?"
"Nomads are fine. Men who've been knocking around the south are fine too. But be thorough. Focus on those with genuine talent."
"As you command."
"How long will it take? To select five hundred new recruits and stand up the unit?"
"It should not take long."
"Then move quickly."
A mere five hundred men — but this was only the beginning. The scale would grow, and with it, the need for reliable means of control. For now, however, it remained manageable.
I turned back to the documents. Zamuchin's formal reports were always interesting — perhaps because they spoke of the world beyond these walls. His final sentence had left an impression: *the dark world*. The claim that the North was sufficiently controllable.
Knowing Zamuchin's nature, that line concealed a deeper meaning. If the North was sufficiently controlled, it might well imply that the south was considerably fragile.
"Your Grace, General Leo has arrived."
"Already? I expected it to take at least a day."
"Have you forgotten? General Leo's wife gave birth just a week ago."
"Ah."
I had forgotten entirely. General Leo and his wife. What was her name — Isabella? Yes, Isabella. As her due date approached, they had been staying near Winter Castle. I recalled sending my personal physician as well.
"It's coming back to me now. That's why. I'd forgotten. Very well — send him in."
I remained seated and waited, mind drifting. Stuttering Leo. The eldest son of Lord Riward. He had shown a gift for the sword from an early age, and his mind was sharp enough that I had always believed he would make a fine general. I still remembered the day he first rode out to war. I had been genuinely proud.
"G-Grand Duke, Y-Your Grace, I, Leor, have a-arrived."
"Still haven't broken that habit, I see. But you're welcome all the same."
The stutter had been with him since childhood and showed no sign of leaving. His mind simply moved faster than his tongue could follow. I gestured for him to come closer.
"So. Are you happy these days?"
"Y-yes. Yes. I am v-very happy lately."
"The child — a daughter or a son?"
"Ah, er. D-do you not already know, Y-Your Grace?"
Do I?
"Y-Your Grace p-promised to give the child a n-name."
"Ah. Did I?"
I couldn't do it on the spot. I had simply forgotten. So that was why Leo had been weighing on my mind lately. I scratched the back of my head. The expectant look in Leo's eyes. I told Leor I would settle on a name before long. In truth, that wasn't why I had summoned him.
"We're forming a new unit."
"Y-yes."
"You'll be in command. It will likely be quite different from the wars you've fought in the North. You may not even know who the enemy is."
"Y-yes."
"Does that concern you?"
"N-no."
That was always his way. Strangely, the moment he took up a sword, his entire bearing changed. Ordinarily he was shy, prone to stuttering, and easily flustered — but none of that remained when he was in the field.
"If you w-would give the name—"
Stubborn as ever, too.
I processed Leor's formal reassignment shortly after. Finding a replacement wouldn't take long. Or his father could simply step in, if need be. For the time being, a temporary commander of Leo's choosing would hold the position, while Leo himself was placed on standby.
"I'll send the name by letter. You'll receive it then."
"It is an h-honor, Your Grace."
After meeting with Leo, I returned to my study. A name. I had never given it much thought before. Whenever someone asked me to name a child, I had always managed to deflect — Theo, Leo, Io, cycling through the same ending sounds as though following a family pattern.
Hmm. How does one go about naming a child?
I sat down and began a letter. Leor von Riward. General of the North, commander of the continent's most formidable army, stationed at the front lines...
I wrote on, filling the page with one phrase after another — and then came to a dead stop at the very last part, where the name was meant to go.
"What are you doing?"
I had been sitting there, deep in thought, when Daniela appeared and asked. I had been trying not to disturb her — she had been quietly reading by the bedside — but apparently my brooding had caught her eye.
Over the past few days, Daniela had been drawing noticeably closer. It felt as though the distance between us had shortened by a step.
"I'm trying to come up with a name for a child."
"Really?"
"It doesn't happen often, but I'd like to give a good one."
What would be right?
"Daniela — what do you think? What makes a good name?"
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
I hadn't thought to ask. I couldn't remember. I told her honestly — I couldn't recall. I had promised to name the child, but things had been so busy lately that it had slipped my mind entirely.
"That's not right! How important is this?"
"Mm."
"Being able to name a child is an extraordinary privilege. And you forgot!"
Now she was scolding me. It had been a while. It reminded me of the occasional reprimands I'd heard in childhood. I didn't mind it. There was something new about it, somehow.
"You're right. I was too careless."
"Hmm. I'll think about it with you."
Two heads would be better than one. We turned over name after name, but nothing seemed to fit. Some felt too aristocratic and were set aside. Others were too plain and met the same fate. I spent more time deliberating over this than I had over any meeting in the past several days.
"It can't be helped. There's one name I've been saving."
"You had one set aside?"
"If I ever had a child of my own, there was a name I always wanted to give them."
"What is it?"
Daniela lifted the pen and brought it to the very center of the letter I had been writing — above all the carefully composed phrases. Was she suggesting we use this name? I watched her draw close.
Soap. The scent of soap. Not quite the perfume of flowers, but clean enough to feel refreshing.
Slender arms. She wore northern clothes, but there was warmth beneath them. Softness. No — sunlight, I thought. Yes. That's the right word.
"It's a very beautiful name."
Daniela dipped the pen back into the inkwell, then slid the letter toward me. In the center of the page, amid all the carefully written lines, a single name had been written.
"Anora?"
"Isn't it lovely?"
"Does it mean something?"
Anora. It was a beautiful name, certainly.
"It means light, apparently. You know — the thing you can see up north when the weather is clear?"
"The aurora?"
"Wasn't it Anora?"
A slip of the tongue. Daniela moved quickly to correct herself, but I had already taken the letter from her hands. *You'll ruin the child's name!* — her cry rang out, but I laughed and told her it didn't matter. If anything, it seemed more beautiful than aurora.
"Anora is better than aurora. Let's go with Anora."
"But what if they find out it was a mistake? Please, don't—"
"Anora it is. Light, nobility, beauty. Anora."
"Does it carry all those meanings?"
"Well — somewhere, it does."
Daniela tried to take the letter back, but it was no use.
That evening, I sat with the letter and considered how to close it. Not to change the name *Anora* — that was settled. It was the matter of the sender. We had chosen the name together, after all.
"May I include your name?"
"Of course, Your Grace."
"Your surname, though — I'm not sure how to put it. Daniela, would you mind if I wrote Wintergard?"
"..."
Daniela said nothing. Anyone who lived in this world would have a rough sense of what that silence meant.
"Is that all right?"
"F-for now?"
"Then that's what I'll write."
I finished the letter and wrote the name on the envelope. Alfredo would send it, and it would reach Leo before long.
===
To Leor von Riward.
Commander of the most formidable army on the continent, great general of the North, and personal friend of the Grand Duke of the North.
I am glad to have been given the honor of naming your child.
It took some time, but I trust you will understand that I deliberated at length in search of a worthy name.
The child's name is,
Anora.
Named to carry the light of the aurora, the nobility of the aurora, the beauty of the aurora —
yet not as a light that vanishes in an instant, but as one that will shine forever.
This name was not mine alone to give; it was Daniela who found it, and so the child will shine all the brighter for it.
Theodor von Ardrno Ifela Wintergard
Daniela Wintergard
===