15.
“It’s so peaceful.”
It was a tranquil evening, belying the fact that they were on a battlefield. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of insects, creating a serene atmosphere.
Lancel realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had relaxed so completely. He felt almost proud of how hard he had been working lately.
He made a decision: in another two or three iterations, if the regression continued, he would finally take a proper vacation.
As for Marigold…
He could just stash the girl somewhere safe for a while. Then he’d grab a ton of money, run off, and enjoy ten years of solitude before returning.
Yes, that was the plan.
This time, he’d finally get to have some fun alone. ‘Don’t be sad, Marigold. I’ll bring back souvenirs. We can share them and spend the last day or so before the regression together.’ Lancel had that much affection for her.
‘I need to rest when I can too.’
With that thought, Lancel lowered his gaze. Marigold was nestled in his arms.
They were alone together in a pitch-black cave.
16.
———
[Fallen Noblewoman Simulation]
Schedule for the second week of October:
Monday – March.
Tuesday – March.
Wednesday – March.
Thursday – Infiltrate enemy stronghold.
Friday – Secure enemy stronghold.
Saturday – Construct temporary garrison.
Sunday – Rest (Location: temporary garrison).
※Military glory is sweet, but how wonderful it would be to have a proper bath! Hopefully this war ends quickly before winter arrives!
———
Four months.
That’s how long it took the Fifth Prince’s army to systematically eradicate the remaining pockets of resistance in the western part of the empire.
As if driven by a personal vendetta, he led his troops beyond Count Runter’s territory, sweeping through neighboring lands like a rat hunt. Anything that displeased him was crushed without mercy.
“As of today, all the rabble in this region have been wiped out! It’s a day for celebration, so let’s hold a banquet tonight. Bring out all the reserved supplies. You bastards deserve to taste what war-time liquor tastes like!”
The garrison erupted into a boisterous frenzy as the Fifth Prince finally opened up the supplies he had been hoarding.
Around every bonfire, surviving soldiers huddled together, filling their bellies with greasy food and raising their cups in toasts.
It was a celebration.
Of the approximately three hundred infantry soldiers who had participated in the battle, about two-hundred fifty remained to defend their position.
Even more remarkably, the thirty knights led by the Fifth Prince had not suffered even a single casualty or injury. It was a literal, unmitigated victory.
‘Something’s off about this,’ Lancel thought, his expression remaining impassive amidst the festive atmosphere. He chewed on a piece of cured ham as his gaze swept across the temporary garrison.
‘It’s all going too smoothly, isn’t it?’
Aside from the Fifth Prince’s occasional clumsy attempts to approach Marigold, everything had proceeded with unnatural ease.
Even considering Marigold’s prowess in mock battles and the Imperial Support Army’s reputation as a formidable force, such a flawless outcome felt unnatural.
The territory of Count Runter, as Lancel remembered it, was a far more brutal battlefield. For it to end so easily felt like something was missing—far too much was missing.
What’s more, he hadn’t even managed to see Count Runter’s face, the most crucial figure of all.
‘Is this just a fluke? Or…?’
“Ugh-ha!”
Lancel grimaced at the sudden, overwhelming stench of alcohol wafting from right next to him.
“Manager Mary?”
“Sir Lancel, this is my first time drinking this, but it tastes surprisingly good! Hahaha!”
“…Are you already drunk?”
Marigold’s face was flushed crimson, her eyes glazed and unfocused as she clutched the liquor bottle to her chest.
Come to think of it, Lancel had rarely seen her drinking. Even as she grew older, she had never taken to alcohol.
“Phew…”
“You’ve got alcohol breath” Lancel tried to push away Marigold’s forehead, which was pressed against him as she kept sighing.
“Get off of me.”
“Ugh!”
It wasn’t easy, as she was stubbornly clinging to him.
“Sir Lancel, I’ll pour for you too! Hurry and bring your glass here. Come on, quickly!”
“I don’t want any.”
“Don’t be like that! Here!”
‘Is she going to be like the office drunk tonight?’
Marigold stubbornly snatched Lancel’s glass and filled it to the brim with alcohol. But she didn’t stop there. She forcefully pressed the glass to his lips.
“Drink up! Drink up!”
“……”
“Drink, drink!”
Reluctantly, Lancel swallowed the alcohol. A sweet fragrance permeated his senses.
Expecting cheap liquor, Lancel was surprised by the pleasant taste and drained every last drop.
“Well done, Sir Lancel. Would you like another glass?”
“Manager Mary, that’s just drunken nonsense. If you don’t correct it soon, it’ll become a habit.”
“Drunken… nonsense…? What’s that?”
“What you’re doing right now.”
“Oh! So it’s a good thing?”
Marigold poured another glass, a silly smile playing on her lips. Lancel accepted only that one glass before abruptly pushing the cup far away.
“Ah! I was going to offer you just one more! The rule is three glasses, you know.”
“There’s no such rule. I’ve had enough. You should drink the rest.”
“Aww, you’re no fun.”
Marigold downed three or four more glasses in quick succession before finally throwing off her outer robe.
“Ugh, it’s so hot! Why is it so hot when winter’s just around the corner, Sir Lancel?!”
“Manager Mary, put your clothes back on.”
“Huh?”
Lancel could feel the soldiers’ eyes gathering on them.
Marigold was currently the only woman on this battlefield. After months of being cooped up with nothing but men, the soldiers’ gazes were practically at their breaking point.
When wars drag on, even princesses can’t escape unwanted attention. How much worse would it be for a mere manager like Marigold?
Lancel forced the outer garment she had thrown off back onto her. “If you take this off again, I’ll lock you in your armor,” he threatened.
“…It’s hot…”
Marigold pouted and reluctantly put her clothes back on. Only when she draped her cloak over herself did the lingering gazes begin to fade.
This was for the soldiers’ sake too.
They couldn’t have their sleep disturbed unnecessarily.
“Manager Mary seems to have quite a low tolerance for alcohol,” the Fifth Prince chuckled as he approached.
“It’s expensive liquor. Don’t waste it by spilling it on the ground, manager Mary. Get it all in your mouth.”
At the Fifth Prince’s words, Lancel took the bottle from Marigold. The taste of this liquor was indeed too precious to be carried around on the battlefield.
‘This is…’
The liquor had a subtle pineapple aroma.
Lancel had encountered this before, not too long ago.
‘It’s the same liquor I saw in Count Runter’s castle?’
No wonder they were producing it in such large quantities. So it’s made its way even to a place like this.
Unlike grain, well-made liquor was valuable, easily convertible to cash, and could be stored for long periods. It was the perfect tool for Count Runter, who harbored dreams of rebellion—even though it was currently being used at the imperial army’s banquet.
“Sir Lancel… Ooooooh.”
“What are you doing, Manager Mary?”
Lancel abruptly blocked Marigold, who was suddenly pushing her pouting lips toward him.
“Ooooooh….ooh!”
Marigold’s expression abruptly turned serious as she pressed her lips forward. Her complexion rapidly deteriorated.
“Ah.”
Lancel quickly turned her body away.
“Uwaaaah!”
“……”
‘Keep showing the good stuff, Marigold.’
The soldiers’ gazes, which had been fixed on her, finally vanished completely.
“All our precious supplies have turned to mud, manager Mary,” the Fifth Prince chimed in, unable to bear the sight any longer.
17.
“Ugh, Lancel, I feel terrible.”
“You should have known better than to drink so recklessly.”
“Ugh…”
Lancel shook his head as he watched Marigold sprawled out on the baggage wagon. She had been complaining about her hangover so much that her fingertips had turned cold.
It was fortunate the war had ended. If it were still ongoing, he might have had to carry her on his shoulders.
The other soldiers weren’t faring much better. Their faces, as they dragged themselves up to march after a night of heavy drinking, were uniformly etched with exhaustion.
The only ones who seemed unaffected were the Fifth Prince and his knights, who hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol.
“Ugh…”
Just as Marigold’s retching echoed through the air, Lancel reined his horse in.
‘Someone’s here…’
He had sensed a presence beyond the dense forest, his instincts honed by years of battle.
“Halt.”
At his command, the entire formation froze instantly.
“What is it, Sir Lancel?”
“An ambush.”
The sounds of approaching figures grew louder from the forest. Lancel realized there were far more than just one or two.
At least a dozen, by his estimate.
“Ambush?”
A faint smile curved the Fifth Prince’s lips.
“No, they’re allies.”
Lancel recognized the newcomers immediately. The elderly knight leading them was far too familiar.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Your Highness.”
“Count Runter. You needn’t come out to greet me. It seems you’ve finished your business as well?”
“We merely tidied up a few loose ends after Your Highness’s work. It was no difficult task.”
“Anyway, you’ve worked hard,” the Fifth Prince said to Count Runter, exchanging friendly words.
“From now on, we’ll change our marching direction. We’ll head to Count Runter’s territory to rest and recover from our journey. Let everyone know.”
‘What should I do now?
We’ve run into the rebel forces.’
Frankly, Lancel didn’t want to get involved. It was impossible to predict what might happen.
In fact, if he could, Lancel would consider bolting at this very moment. There was an ominous feeling.
The problem was…
“Ugh… Please let me down somewhere to rest. My stomach… Ugh… I feel like I’m going to die.”
“……”
Lancel sighed deeply at the sound of Marigold’s weak voice.
‘I should find a good opportunity to slip away.’
Just as Lancel made up his mind, a man in full armor rode up to him.
The man lifted the visor of his helmet, revealing a familiar face.
“It’s been a while, Sir Lancel.”
It was Adelhart, Count Runter’s son.
The man who now stood before Lancel was a far cry from the timid youth he had known years ago. His armor was covered in scratches, suggesting he had seen considerable combat.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“All thanks to the lessons you taught me, Sir Lancel.”
Lancel couldn’t quite tell if he had meant it as a compliment.
‘Impossible.’
“I won’t lose to you again, Sir Lancel.”
“……”
Lancel found Adelhart’s piercing gaze unsettling.
* * *
“We’ll take the lead, Your Highness.”
Even as the procession navigated the treacherous mountain pass, the Fifth Prince and Count Runter continued their conversation.
“War is only fun in short bursts. After months of relentless fighting with no rest, it starts to get tedious. And this is just the beginning—I’m already worried about what’s to come.”
“You’ll get used to it soon enough, Your Highness.”
“I hope so. Speaking of which, Count Runter, do you see that carriage in the rear? The one manager Mary is riding in?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“I know you have a history with her, but she’s a valuable asset. Please ensure she’s well-protected and unharmed.”
“If she has earned Your Highness’s favor, we will certainly do so.”
Lancel, overhearing their exchange, rubbed his face impatiently.
‘They’re in league, aren’t they?’
He had thought that this time around, the Fifth Prince had chosen to become the Empire’s hero.
He had believed that his tireless efforts to suppress bandits, rebels, and foreign forces were all for the sake of the Empire.
But he was wrong.
‘Now that I think about it, the complete pacification of the Empire’s western territories… it was all good news for Count Runter alone.’
Looking back, the past six months of war had left nothing intact in this region. Bandits, armies, mercenary bands, militias—nearly every faction that had once roamed these lands had vanished without a trace.
The only remaining power was Count Runter.
And perhaps the rebel forces that would emerge in the near future…
Of course.
Those hundreds of mounted soldiers blocking the procession’s path right now would be just one example.
“Who are you?!”
They numbered roughly twice the size of the Imperial Support Army. Gripping spears and swords, they advanced steadily from the front, their footsteps echoing across the battlefield.
The Fifth Prince showed no reaction as he watched them, effectively giving his tacit approval.
“You’ve all worked hard. Remember last night’s banquet as my final farewell. When this Empire falls into my hands someday, I’ll leave you dogs a statue or two to remember me by.”
Lancel chuckled dryly.
Once again, the Fifth Prince had chosen to become an imperial usurper rather than a war hero, allying himself with Count Runter.
“Mary.”
“…Sir Lancel?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Lancel approached Marigold, who lay collapsed on the carriage.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Huh? Hyaaaah!”
He hoisted her onto his shoulder in a flash.
“The enemy! Enemy attack!”
A panicked shout erupted just as the two forces clashed.
The entire valley instantly transformed into a battlefield.
“Aaaargh!”
“D-defend!”
“Hiiiiek!”
The aftereffects of the previous day’s banquet, the surprise attack catching them unprepared, and the Fifth Prince’s tacit approval—all contributed to the soldiers falling helplessly. It was like watching hunting dogs being abandoned after the hunt. This was inevitable; to those now plotting rebellion, the imperial army was merely an obstacle to be eliminated.
“Hold on tight, Marigold.”
“M-my, my stomach… it’s churning… Ugh!”
Lancel spurred his horse forward, with Marigold, who was retching violently, riding in front of him.
“Seize them!”
“Don’t let a single one escape!”
“Over there! Someone’s getting away!”
The battlefield.
The dying soldiers.
The cavalrymen pursuing Lancel.
“Ugh!”
And then Marigold’s retching.
Everything, it was all a complete mess.
Closest thing to this would be drinking milk coffee and then take the bus to school. Shit was real.