Sir, times have changed

At this moment, unlike the Britannia Empire’s side, where the scent of wheat and milk wafted in the air along with a harmonious, cheerful atmosphere, things were not going well at all for the Rossiya Empire’s candidates.

After the nations reluctantly reached a peace treaty at the summit, the empire closest to Britannia, and also the one that had the most conflicts with them throughout history, was the Rossiya Empire, located in the northern continent.

Because of the cold climate, with frequent blizzards at storm-level intensity, not only were resources precious within Rossiya, but even the varieties of magic were scarce.

On the other hand, this gave Rossiyans their natural talent for strength and combat.

As long as they downed a bottle of liquor in a few gulps, they could instantly transform into Saiyan-like warriors.

Such a rough and straightforward empire naturally required a “tyrant” to rule it.

The current emperor of the Rossiya Empire, Ivan Letty, was exactly that kind of person.

As for subordinates who failed their missions…

“It’s over…”

Inside a temporary tent, Rasputin muttered to herself in a daze while shoving the last bite of canned military meat into her mouth.

As night approached, the temperature plummeted, yet sweat covered her forehead.

“Hey, if we go back empty-handed, do you think Lady Letty will throw us onto the tiger bench?”

“N-no way…”

A flunky beside her, reeking of alcohol as he guzzled more, sighed, “The Great Emperor isn’t like that.

She’s not so merciful.

Most likely she’ll stab us in the ass with her sword and then electrocute us…”

Rasputin shivered.

Being strapped to the tiger bench had long since become routine under Letty’s service—it was just pain.

But being stabbed in the ass, shocked, and made to wet herself in public—that was the new “mental torture” their emperor had devised, since physical punishments no longer fazed anyone.

Even Rasputin didn’t want to suffer that humiliation.

And all of this was thanks to those three Britannians.

Even though her group had worked through the night to clear and occupy the path, that Britannian woman’s lackey had discovered a new route!

Even an idiot could see that was the correct one!

It wasn’t impossible to force their way through at the time, but that Kefir was a famous genius of Britannia.

With her helpers relaying information and defenses in place, it was too difficult to just shoot her dead, so they had no choice but to retreat.

But this wouldn’t do.

The Great Emperor had said, “Killing a few doesn’t matter. Bring back the treasure.”

As she fretted, suddenly a commotion arose outside.

Moments later, another flunky kicked into the tent a young woman, hands tied behind her back, who struggled fiercely with a sullen expression.

Rasputin exchanged a glance with the other flunky.

“Just because I’m still single in my twenties doesn’t mean I like women!

You tied up some perfume-drenched Britannian woman in the middle of the night and brought her here—what for?”

Before she finished, the sullen woman glared fiercely at Rasputin.

Not a bad look in her eyes, but with that body—go back to Britannia and drink your afternoon tea.

“Lord Rasputin, you’ve misunderstood.

While patrolling, I found this woman sneaking into the ruins suspiciously.

I smacked her around a bit and brought her in.

And… I found this weapon on her.”

Saying this, the flunky tossed a dagger onto the ground.

Rasputin flicked away a booger from her little finger.

A Britannian wandering the ruins with a weapon in hand—clearly not here to mess with Rossiya.

Which meant…

“Hey, woman. Name.”

“……”

“Throw her out, hang her upside down, drown her.”

“Louise the Twenty-Third!”

That quick? Coward.

Muttering, Rasputin said, “What a hassle. Fine, I’ll just call you 2.b. What were you doing, bringing that thing to go shopping?”

Louise the Twenty-Third suddenly raised her head, eyes bloodshot, her voice hoarse like a starving beast.

“I came to kill that b*tch and her two lackeys!

It has nothing to do with you Rossiyans!

If you know what’s good for you, stay out of it!”

“Heh? A hen just told us not to get involved~”

Rasputin sneered coldly while crushing the empty can in her bare hand.

For Rossiyans, being looked down upon was the greatest insult.

Soon, the two flunkies shouted “Suka blyat!” as they beat Louise the Twenty-Third viciously.

Rasputin didn’t really care whether this Britannian lived or died.

But suddenly, inspiration struck—this woman might actually be useful.

After all, she was Lady Letty’s advisor, the first genius of Rossiya!

How could she go back empty-handed to be skewered in the ass?

If this woman truly hated Kefir, then why not let her handle it?

What was the saying—ah yes, the cicada’s shell… no, borrowing a knife to kill!

That way, even if the Britannian died, Rossiya could wash their hands of it.

All they had to do was make it easier for this woman to “take them out.”

“Hey, stop.”

Rasputin approached the battered, swollen-faced 2.b.

“You want to kill those three Britannians?

What a coincidence—we do too~

Since you want to, I’ll give you the chance.”

“W-what?”

Her sobs turned to hope, and Louise the Twenty-Third looked up at Rasputin expectantly.

“Next, follow us quietly.

We’ll find you the chance to strike.

Ah, by the way—seeing as you’re still relying on a knife, I bet you’ve never even killed a chicken.

So I’ll give you one of our Great Emperor’s newest inventions—a killing tool!”

With that, Rasputin pulled something out from her robes.

“Th-this… what is this!?

Can this thing really kill Kefir…?”

“Want to know?”

Rasputin aimed the “thing” at Louise’s ear.

The next instant—

【Bang】

“Ahhhhhh!”

“Hahahahaha~ This is called a short musket.

Fun, isn’t it?

Even more fun when it blows someone’s head apart!

Who cares about your Britannian spells or whatever—this is all you need!

Just point it at that Britannian, pull the ring, and it’s done!

Here, take it!”

Rasputin tossed the gun at the stunned Louise the Twenty-Third, who froze—shocked, but maybe also thrilled.

Rising, Rasputin turned to her flunkies.

“Tonight we’ll have fun.

Come on, let’s stir things up!”

“Halasyu!”