Civil Servant Marygold (2)
2.
“Shall we eat together? You must be getting hungry.”
“I'm fine. I ate earlier.”
Hmm.
“What's that you're writing so intently?”
“D-don't look. It's my diary.”
“……”
Hmm.
“If you're tired, how about sleeping in my berth? Not sharing it—just borrowing the room.”
“Your berth……! No, I'm fine!”
Hmmm.
“Here, apple juice. I got it from the dining car.”
“Thank you! I'll pay you back.”
“No, it's okay……”
“I can't just take it. Here.”
Something's off.
“Is that a diary too?”
“This is a report.”
“Can I see?”
“Ah! No! It's just practice!”
“……”
A strange feeling.
Both his casual offers and his deliberate kindnesses were being politely turned down. Lancel felt his mind grinding to a halt. It wasn't cold or heartless, but there was definitely distance. It hadn't felt this way when they first met.
Am I feeling hurt by this?
For the first time in his hundreds of years of life, Lancel was experiencing disappointment in a relationship. He knew his thinking was narrow-minded. Logically, it was weirder for a grown woman to open up easily to a stranger who appeared out of nowhere.
Lancel could only swallow his bitterness.
“So what exactly does a records officer do?”
“Just what it says. Records.”
Marygold rested her finger on her chin as she answered.
“What's happening outside the capital, what problems exist, and their causes. If there's a noble managing the area, who they are. The state of the commoners living under them, their culture, what they eat and how they live. The local specialties.”
Complicated.
“Oral histories passed down, folk remedies, the hottest current topics, the state of temples and churches. Oh! The previous records officer was very knowledgeable about geography. Forest paths, agricultural conditions, carriage routes, local climate, river changes based on summer rainfall, and……”
Sleepy.
Lancel blinked and nodded. When her long explanation finally ended, Marygold puffed out her chest with a smug look.
“So, what do you think of a records officer's job?”
“Yeah, sounds cool. Nice.”
“Hehe.”
It's still just above commoner, below noble.
What could he do? In this continent dominated by feudalism, administrators had limits. It was commoner work, after all.
“Sir Lancel, stop dozing and wake up. We're getting off here.”
The train, which had been stopping and starting, finally reached a small barony in the empire's west. Marygold's first destination.
3.
It's been a while.
Lancel gazed at the vast granary plains before him, lost in memories. Even now, they were incredibly fertile fields. Though they would one day become a battlefield and burn fiercely.
“It's huge for a barony.”
“Because it's not a barony.”
“Pardon?”
Question marks floated in Marygold's eyes.
“It was once called the Runter March. Even now under the empire, it was a land ruled by its own king in the past.”
“You're surprisingly knowledgeable, Sir Lancel. I see you in a new light.”
“……”
Surprisingly?
“So what now?”
“Observe and record, obviously.”
Marygold wore her smug face again.
“As an administrator and records officer, it's my duty to document everything happening in this remote corner of the empire. You can just relax on the sidelines, Sir Lancel. I'll handle it all.”
At this point, he was dying to know. What had happened in the eight years without him to turn her into such a loyal bureaucrat?
Maybe this time she'd live a proper life. That's what Lancel thought.
“Who goes there! Seize them!”
“Y-yes? I-I'm an administrator……!”
“You damn outsider, how dare you steal our harvest! Look here, villagers! We've got a rat!”
“Wait, just a moment! Let me explain……!”
“Grab her!”
“Tie her up!”
What are you doing, Marygold?
He'd had a bad feeling when she was snooping around the grain silo. Lancel chuckled as the militia bound her.
“Thief! Catch the thief!”
“I'm not a thief! Not a thief! Kyaa!”
She was dragged away in the end. Lancel watched from a step behind.
“You're watching, but please save me, Sir Lancel!”
“You told me to relax on the sidelines.”
“I did, but! I said that, but! You're my escort! My escort!”
“If it's really dangerous, I'll help. Don't worry.”
“It feels really dangerous right now!”
“Still fine.”
“How bad does it have to get before it's not fine?!”
Lancel smiled contentedly as the escorted Marygold was hauled off. In the end, her head and arms were locked into the village pillory.
“We'll detain the grain thief for a day and then exile her!”
“I'm not a thief……!”
At least just detention, Miss Records Officer. That's merciful enough.
“Uuu……”
Only after her face crumpled did Lancel step forward. A brief talk cleared the misunderstanding.
“Aw, you should've said so sooner. We misunderstood.”
“……You didn't give me a chance.”
“Ahem, things have been tough lately. Understand.”
Lancel interjected.
“With grain overflowing like that, how's it tough?”
“Not all grain is ours, sir knight. We guard it with militia for a reason.”
“Even so, you seem better off than most.”
“Well……it's hard to say……”
“Um……excuse me, could you two free me first……?”
Marygold's muffled voice leaked out. Her legs were already trembling from the hunched position.
“Oh, right! Forgot! Huh? Why won't it open?”
“Y-you're joking, right?”
“Hold on, uh, what's wrong with this?”
Thanks to the broken pillory, she stayed stuck awkwardly for a full hour. When finally freed, Marygold collapsed to the ground.
Her eyes were dead. Her elite administrator pride shattered in an instant.
“Sir Lancel, traitor.”
“……”
He hadn't expected it to break.
“No matter how I think about it, it's weird.”
“What is?”
That evening at the inn, Marygold looked up sharply while munching bread.
“This area's fertile plains produce surplus grain, trains stop here, decent population……”
“So?”
“It shouldn't have starving people.”
“They said their share is small. Common for tenant farmers on noble land. Nothing special.”
Of course, Lancel found it odd too. Vast fields overflowing with grain, yet the villages looked half-dead. The contrast with the emaciated locals passing by against the horizon-spanning plains felt eerie.
“I need to investigate. Perfect report material too.”
The next morning, Marygold launched her operation.
“Why's that woman staring around here again?”
“Dunno. Says she's an administrator from the capital.”
“Administrator? Her?”
Village, fields, silos, passing carriages—she observed and recorded everything meticulously.
“Liquor……!”
Soon, she found it.
“It's liquor, Sir Lancel! Liquor!”
Marygold's face hardened. She'd grabbed his hand without realizing. Her face filled his vision, too close.
“Ahem. Sorry.”
“……”
She startled back.
“Anyway, look. They're brewing more liquor than permitted. This part! Check my calculations.”
Lancel eyed the clay tablet crammed with math, vision blurry.
What's it say?
Hundreds of years alive, still weak at math.
“Imperial law says minimum 17.5% of last harvest for next planting, max 10% for liquor. Here, nearly half. Half to booze! No wonder grain's short. Clear violation!”
“Mm, yeah.”
Lancel thought who follows that strictly but kept quiet. Even Dante Viscountcy prioritized liquor sometimes. More efficient at times. Half was excessive, though.
“Hehe, looks like I hooked a big one.”
Dopamine-fueled, Marygold didn't stop. She sold her soles hard, uncovering Count Runter's secret brewery and liquor warehouse.
Lancel trailed her terrifying drive, tongue lolling.
It'll come soon.
A week later, it did.
“I'm the Runter family's steward. Straight to the point?”
A well-dressed man appeared.
“Don't poke around. Move on smartly. Our lord's patience has limits.”
Threat.
“Was planning to anyway. Leaving tomorrow. Report for the palace is done. Tell him that.”
Marygold stood.
Next day, pillory again.
“Should've listened. Manners, administrator girl.”
“I'll report this too! I will!”
“Do it! Nobles do what they do. Imperial law violation? Laughable. Who listens to commoners over nobles? Rookies shouldn't meddle. Count Runter's merciful—just taking your report.”
“No! My report! Give it back!”
“Or what?”
Lancel watched, chewing millet. Not malice this time. He wanted her to feel it. An administrator's status in the boonies. In this feudal remnant land, a commoner bureaucrat's limit was exactly this.
Showed her reality.
Sunset. Lancel approached the limp Marygold, shooing a bird from her head.
“……Sir Lancel?”
“Miss Records.”
In the Fallen Lady Simulation, the named ending 'High Official Marygold' route.
“Want power?”
“Pardon?”
Shall I make one?