Warrior Marygold (1)

0.

"Miss, how long are you going to sleep?!"

Marygold's eyelids fluttered as she woke. She could feel the winged fairy Pina tugging at her cheeks.

Hay scent wafted into her nose. It was an old stable.

"We're supposed to head to the capital today, and you're sleeping so peacefully here? If we dawdle, we'll miss the train!"

"Mmm, it's tomorrow anyway. We've still got a whole day left... Ahhhh."

Pina tugged her cheeks again.

"A whole day? Exactly—one day left! If we're late, we won't just miss the train; we'll have to take a ship!"

"Ugh, I know. Stop yelling already."

"You didn't forget we only rented the stable until morning, did you?"

"Ah!"

Marygold bolted upright in the hay. Beside her, a horse whinnied softly. At her bedside was the water she'd received last night. She pushed aside the horse that was trying to drink and quickly washed her face. As the sleepiness faded, memories of the previous night resurfaced.

"I dreamed it again, that weird dream."

"A dream?"

"Yeah."

A dream. Or not.

"Was it really just a dream?"

"They say ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kids your age dream a lot during growth spurts."

Marygold stared at her reflection in the water bowl's surface, recalling that familiar dream. It was like an art gallery where time had frozen, walls lined with countless paintings. Marygold had seen this scene many times before.

Paintings of a young girl or a young woman—all the same person. Marygold instinctively knew they were all her. Beneath each was an inexplicable caption.

A nightmare. Marygold considered it one. What else could a dream confronting "Marygold's End"—deaths, loneliness, or meaningless lives—be? But one thing nagged at her.

The final painting.

—Marriage to the Young Noble 'Lancel Dante'.

"Lancel Dante."

Marygold softly repeated the name from the dream. A suffocating emotion gripped her from deep within her chest. A feeling she'd never experienced before.

"Miss, why are you crying? Miss? D-did I go too far? I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"No, it's not your fault, Pina..."

Marygold wiped her tears, etching the name Lancel Dante deep into her heart.

1.

"The capital is a microcosm of the continent. All power ultimately converges there, competing, clashing, and dividing territories."

One reason Lancel avoided the imperial capital Rodnis was the dread his family—and many others—held for it. It wasn't just provincial folk badmouthing the capital; even his own family trembled at the name.

"Rodnis thrives on the desires and pettiness of nobles. Thinking back still gives me chills. Rag-wrapped scum dumped in manure pits."

Lancel's mother, Lady Nirvia Dante, spat vulgar curses reminiscing over drinks. Most profanities circulating in this world? She'd taught him them all while railing against capital nobles.

"Mother, you were born and raised there—why grind your teeth at the mere mention? It's still your hometown."

Curious, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he asked. Her eyes clouded with regret.

"Son, as you know, your mother was once a pure soul chasing only true love, untainted."

Meaning she'd dated plenty of men.

But.

"Capital playboys were different. They chased bloodlines, not souls or the man before them. And they call that love?"

"Well, pursuing superior bloodlines could be a form of love, no?"

"You should've seen those damned wenches swarming the princes."

He had. In past loops in the capital. Fan club vibes.

"Soul to soul, eyes to eyes—that's the path to true happiness. Remember that, son."

"What if I marry a commoner girl?"

"I'd erase her from the family tree. Don't even dream it."

Even this purist couldn't stomach commoners.

In this setup, they pair Marygold with a prince? Is this even a viable game route?

Class differences. Rivals galore. Aloof princes. Sky-high social barriers.

Can this really be overcome?

Of course. In the game. Not even hard. Random events boosted favor, leading to marriage.

Just that. Game ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vs. reality.

First, I need a foothold in the capital. And money.

Yeah. Trying to hook a fallen lady with a prince when he had zilch? Problem.

Lancel decided to tackle that first. Time was no issue; killing it was his specialty.

2.

Suddenly, a chat with his sister, the game's creator, surfaced.

'Why are mercenaries guarding city streets?'

'Weird?'

'Huh?'

She'd thought mercenaries could handle security. Like a private firm? The empire bore that legacy: guilds outsourcing city watch, swordsmen prowling streets, semi-legal violence rampant, outlaws thriving.

Whatever. Not her problem.

* * *

"Never thought you'd dive into the mercenary business. Knights doing that? Bit beneath the dignity, no?"

Baron Ivil Shen lit up at Lancel's mercenary group plan.

"Business needs reliable muscle. Yours? I'd toss in pocket change no sweat."

"Say, thirty gold coins easy?"

"Between us? Trivial. Viscount Dante know?"

"Hell no."

"Perfect. Keep it that way."

Funds secured, he bought a big building on Rodnis outskirts. First floor: reception. Upper floors: dorms. Undeniable mercenary guild vibe.

Staff and mercs? Easy. He brought twelve trusted servants from home.

"We just sit? Young master?"

Maid at desk, burly men inside—boom, legit guild.

Lancel beamed at the sign. Servants eyed him oddly but no gripes—most trusted from past loops. Including one veteran guard for a special task.

"On 31st Street in the capital, find a girl named Mary. Teach her swordsmanship."

"As you command."

"No questions?"

"You've got reasons. Bored anyway—perfect timing."

Results? Next day.

Marygold learning sword or magic? Common in game. Reality? Fallen young lady picking up a blade? Lancel forced the setup.

One month later.

"Already?"

Two more months.

...Genius?

Lancel was mildly shocked at Marygold's pace. He asked her guard instructor, who replied with trembling eyes:

"She has most of what I know, young master. Nothing left to teach. Regrettable. My shortcomings burn."

"..."

A lament of inadequacy. Protagonist perks. Lancel patted his shoulder.

"Young master."

A maid's voice from behind. Hestie, tied to him since last loop.

"A commission arrived at the guild today. From... Count Albert."

It came. His investment paid off. The high-probability "Escort Event" reached him.

Not from Count Albert. This is...

Simple request: Find missing man and woman, bring to capital within a year.

"Hestie, open mercenary recruitment today."