Navy Marigold (2)
"You can stay here. I'll assign three servants to you soon."
Lancel, who had become a senior officer overnight, was given quarters on the highest floor of the naval base—the best spot, with a sweeping view of the sea and the archipelago. Three bedrooms, one living room, one bath, one private toilet. Compared to a mansion on the mainland, it felt a bit modest for a noble's tastes, but when he thought about naval culture—packing soldiers into chicken-coop barracks under the excuse of building endurance for cramped ships—this place was practically a palace.
"It's so spacious..."
As proof, Marygold, who had followed him, kept gasping in awe, her eyes darting everywhere.
She's been in the navy long enough that a countess's daughter from four years ago is already soaked in it. Staring at a room like this with such envy.
The Marygold count family was one of the empire's richest noble houses. Marygold had lived without want, surrounded by countless retainers her whole life.
"Sigh... It's so big, I might not be able to explore it all in a day."
"Don't exaggerate. It'd take less than a minute."
And yet here she was, eyes sparkling with pure envy at these modest digs. Five years. Enough time for her soul to turn commoner, apparently.
Is this good adaptability... or what?
Lancel wasn't inhuman; he felt a twinge of pity deep down.
"Hey. Mary! Put that down nicely while I'm being polite."
"Ah, I didn't mean to!"
"Careful!"
Startled by her superior's glare, Marygold's hand slipped. The vase she was holding tumbled to the floor.
"Eek!"
"No!"
Crash!
The vase shattered into pieces.
"Kyaaah!"
"Mary! Another accident! Another one!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll clean it up! Right now!"
"Of course you will! The cost comes out of your next paycheck—got it?"
"Sniff... Yes, sir!"
Marygold, eyes brimming with tears, gathered the porcelain shards.
"......"
"She's still a young sailor, so please understand, Sir Lancel."
"It's fine. Just clean it up properly—I don't care otherwise."
"You hear that, Mary?"
"Yes, sir! I'll clean every last piece!"
What could he do? She was Marygold, after all.
"Ahem."
Then, Lancel turned at the sound from the doorway.
"Kehm."
A navy officer in crisp white uniform leaned against the doorframe, drawing Lancel's attention.
"If you're moving in next to me, it's safe to assume you're a knight too? It's been ages since a knight joined the officers."
The man kept sweeping back his perfectly oiled hair, his voice slick as if he'd swallowed a bowl of grease. Three rapiers hung at his waist, catching the eye.
"What are you waiting for, Private Mary? Introduce me."
"Ah, uh! Yes, sir! This is... um... that..."
"......?"
"Th-the... very esteemed..."
Marygold's eyes swam in confusion. She either didn't know his name or had forgotten—take your pick.
"Uh, well, um, huh? Th-that..."
Veins bulged on the officer's forehead. The exasperated private stepped forward.
"This is Rocks Ruin, heir to the Ruin barony."
"Got it."
Lancel gave a soulless nod. He already knew the name. Who in the archipelago didn't?
"Lord Ruin Baron is an elder leading one of the archipelago's six alliances. And Sir Rocks here is his eldest son."
In short: very high status. True enough. The Ruin baron commanded the top rank in the entire chain and was one of the empire's rare naval dynasties—shoving sons and daughters into the navy the moment they could walk.
"Ahem."
Rocks snorted, straightening his uniform.
That should tell him how great I am, right?
"Yep."
"......"
Rocks's face twitched at Lancel's deadpan response. Impressive, sure—but not enough to faze Lancel, who shrugged off royals these days. A baron's son barely registered.
"If you're done, you two can go. I wanna wash up and crash."
"Yes, sir. Let's go, Mary."
"See you later, Sir Lancel!"
The private and Marygold withdrew. Lancel eyed the dazed Rocks and slowly closed the door.
Creak.
Slowly.
Slam!
"Ow!"
Rocks's indignant snort echoed as his nose took the hit. No malice—just no interest in getting chummy. The slicked-back hair and grease overload were too much anyway.
That was it.
Bang!
The next door slammed shut.
Writing the schedule for the 4th week of July.
Mon - Naval dock deep clean. (Location: Dock, Deck)
Tue - Post office duty. (Location: Naval post office)
Wed - Archipelago sea patrol. (Location: Sea)
Thu - Archipelago city patrol. (Location: Archipelago)
Fri - Monthly training evaluation. (Location: Archipelago beach)
Sat - Monthly training evaluation. (Location: Archipelago beach)
Sun - Combat rest day.
※A new officer has arrived! Wonder if he's a good guy... but he feels oddly familiar somehow. Another week of living my best navy life, day by day!
Strength, stamina, condition UP!
With no official post yet, Baron Coral told Lancel to stand by for now.
Stand by.
Stand by. To him, that just meant "eat and chill," so he decided to follow orders faithfully.
Newbie standby period? Sweet as honey.
-Monday.
"Scrub those docks till they shine! Anyone slacking gets boring work that'll wake you right up! Got it, Mary?!"
"Yes, sir!"
"You call that scrubbing the deck? Put your back into it! Like this! Like this!"
"Yesss, sir!"
Sailors dropping like flies under the officers' yells—and Marygold's name rang out constantly.
"Mary!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Maryyyy!"
"Yesss, sir!"
"Mary, you klutz!"
"Sorry, sir!"
Peaceful.
Lancel watched Marygold tumble about with leisurely eyes.
"One more screw-up and it's disciplinary! Got it?!"
"Yes, sir!"
A string of big and small mishaps.
She's basically a torture exhibit.
Occasionally, he spotted her goofing off with juniors in hidden corners.
"You guys saw it too, right? This base wouldn't run without me. So many people calling for me, it's a hassle every day—seriously."
"As expected of Private Mary."
What're they on about?
The juniors didn't seem fully convinced, but Marygold puffed up around them anyway.
-Tuesday.
"Let's go."
The next day, Marygold donned a snug outfit and dove into the sea, a massive waterproof wooden tub strapped to her back.
"Ruby, pretty please."
-Pfoooo!
There she went, riding a whale into the distance.
In the archipelago, even mail delivery fell to the navy. Lancel, suddenly curious, spoke up.
"You entrust post office runs to a mere private? There must be letters for nobles in there. What if she loses one?"
"Mary, you mean?"
Baron Coral puffed smoke, gazing after her.
"Can't say she's reliable. But the whales love her. Believe it or not."
Whales love her?
"Watch her—it's like they talk. Anyone else? Takes forever to calm 'em, or they don't even launch."
Come to think of it, he'd never seen those grumpy whales rebel against Mary.
Lancel had tried riding them every visit to the island. Zero successes. Picky beasts.
She's got some talent after all. Marygold.
Not a total bust, then.
Well, sure. She's the protagonist.
Animals chatting with grass-headed folks? Not shocking.
He next crossed paths with the mail-tub Marygold during a stroll to the harbor.
"Mail's here!"
"Hey, Mary! Good work! Grab a bite?"
"Heh, why not?"
"Come on in!"
She wedged into the sailors' lobster roast, scarfing it down.
"Thanks for the grub!"
"Swing by anytime you're bored!"
She'd sneak off like that whenever she could—picking fruit, digging clams, chasing fish schools, chatting up fishermen by their boats.
Maximum slacking while delivering mail.
By the time the tub emptied, the sea was carpeted in red sunset.
"Playtime's over. Headin' back, Ruby."
In some ways, she lived truer to herself than anyone.
Living a more peaceful life than me.
Lancel had a good feeling about this loop. Maybe he'd coast easy. Navy life covered basics, even if busy.
"I'll attend your bath, Sir Lancel."
That night, Lancel closed his eyes, letting the maids wash him. Hot water poured as he pictured life here with Marygold included.
Might not be bad.
Yeah. Could be a good loop. No vacation beats knowing Marygold's fine—no worst endings nagging at him. This was better rest, even as a navy officer.
The archipelago was peaceful.
......
"Pirates!"
"All hands to ships—prepare to sortie!"
The next morning, the alarm bell shattered the naval HQ, rousing everyone. Officers and enlisted alike poured out, scrambling aboard vessels.