The maid didn't seem surprised at all. She rinsed the towel in a bucket of water and continued wiping down the weapon racks along the wall.
Seated before the fireplace, a woman in a courtly gown with flowing golden hair sipped red wine. Her left eye was covered by a black eyepatch adorned with a white camellia, and a crimson feathered cloak hung loosely over her shoulders. She spoke in a calm, icy tone.
"Right now, the Commander only has Glowworm and Vampire with him. What can two little girls possibly accomplish?"
Her voice was sharp—like the sound of steel strings plucked on a zither.
But even more striking than her voice was her figure. From the side, her body was so impossibly voluptuous that it seemed almost unfair—a direct affront to every flat-chested shipgirl in the world.
Thanks to the unique physiology of shipgirls, her figure defied gravity entirely. She was firm, lifted, and sculpted beyond anything training or fitness could achieve.
She was like a glass of deadly wine—impossible not to be captivated by.
"We of the UK-Faction are doing alright, I guess. At least Glowworm was his starter ship. But the J-Faction, I-Faction, F-Faction, S-Faction—not a single one has reached the Commander yet."
The girl in the brown maid outfit paused her cleaning and looked up. Her stunning heterochromatic eyes were revealed—one amber, one sea-blue.
"Why compare us to them? If we're comparing, we should look at the US-Faction or the G-Faction. The Commander is so obviously biased toward that Bismarck class!"
The tone of the wine-drinking woman carried unmistakable dissatisfaction.
It wasn't jealousy. It was competitiveness.
The maid understood completely. Historically, Bismarck had sunk the pride of the UK-Faction, the battlecruiser HMS Hood, in a single volley. That history still cast a shadow among shipgirls. To the UK-Faction, Bismarck would always be hard to tolerate.
And the woman in front of her had even more reason for her rivalry—her original ship and Hood had once formed an interception squad to hunt Bismarck. But Hood was sunk before she even got a shot off.
The maid smiled softly. "The Commander's quite fond of wine. Your Highness, once you're at his side, I'm sure you'll have plenty in common."
"Who knows when that will be," said Prince of Wales, finishing the last sip in her glass. She paused, then added, "And my drinking habits have nothing to do with him. I saw his daily routine—Lexington is raising him like livestock. It's a joke."
"Well, he is her favorite. Who would want their favorite commander to suffer? And Lexington is a wife-tier shipgirl…"
The maid trailed off, suddenly catching herself and glancing at her mistress.
Lexington had become a marriage ship. So had Bismarck. Even the scatterbrained Tirpitz had received that honor.
But Prince of Wales had not.
The maid knew it was a sore point for her. Everyone knew. Everyone avoided mentioning it.
Among all the UK-Faction shipgirls, only Hood had become a wife. That discrepancy was a constant source of frustration—especially in the political competition between naval district factions.
Prince of Wales's expression darkened. She set her wineglass on the side table and stood.
The crimson feathered cloak slipped from her shoulders.
"Repulse, that's enough. You're not really a maid—you don't need to clean up for me every day. Especially when you're still not in good health."
Just then, Repulse blushed and covered her mouth, letting out a light cough. She smiled and replied gently.
"You know how my rigging has been since the retrofit. I've always had small issues. I'm not suited for expedition combat, so staying behind to look after everyone here… that's what gives me a sense of worth."
Prince of Wales shook her head. "You're worth far more than just being a maid."
"In battle, I'm not even ranked within the naval district. Putting my heart into service is all I can do," Repulse said with a playful wink. "The glory of our Z-Fleet rests on your shoulders, Your Highness."
The Z-Fleet had been a historical British task force dispatched by Churchill to the Far East to counter the J-Faction. It had included Prince of Wales, Repulse, and four destroyers—among them, Vampire.
Prince of Wales had served as flagship, and Repulse's willingness to act as her maid clearly had roots in that legacy.
"Z-Fleet, huh…" Prince of Wales picked up the wine bottle and refilled her glass. "What does ancient history have to do with us anymore?"
[End of Chapter]
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