Marianne (Holiday)/Stories
Marianne receives a request to guard a VIP at his ball. Enlisting the help of Alk and Stella, she meets the client at his manor. When Marianne realizes there's still a lot to be done before the big event, she takes matters into her own hands.
Marianne: A mission— Er, I mean, a request for my services?
Maid: Oh, won't you say yes? All you have to do is act as a bodyguard. You're maid—sorry—MADE for this kind of job!
Marianne: Piece of cake. Definitely easier than baking a cake, that's for sure.
Maid: You'll get the hang of that too, with enough practice!
Maid: Now, to business. The man you'll be guarding will be hosting a ball in a few days' time.
Marianne: Understood. I mean, all right...
Maid: You'll be attending the ball not as a maid, but as his guest.
Marianne: His guest?
Maid: Exactly! Which means you'll need to look the part. Don't you worry—we'll find the perfect ball gown for you!
Marianne: I... see...
Marianne: I suddenly remembered an urgent errand that will demand my full attention until... When is the ball over?
Alk: Huh, so that's why you're all dressed up like that.
Marianne: There were so many dresses. Even now, when I close my eyes, all I can see is silk, ruffles, and lace...
Stella: You look just like a storybook princess.
Marianne: I appreciate the sentiment, Stella. Though I don't know how many princesses walk around with concealed firearms.
Marianne: At any rate, thanks for agreeing to accompany me. I feel better with some friendly faces at the ball.
Alk: We'll be working behind the scenes. Just call on us if you need a hand!
Alk: Well, I guess we should go and greet our host!
Alk: Hello, is anybody home? We've come from the Maids' Parlor!
Lord of the Manor: At ease, ladies and gentlemen.
Lord of the Manor: Now that you're here, I'll brief you on the mission parameters. Leave your bags at the entryway—they'll be taken to your rooms shortly.
Lord of the Manor: ...Well, what are you waiting for? Enter. I hope you don't mind, but tea will be served while we talk tactics.
Alk: Is it just me, or does he sound like the old Marianne?
Marianne: I'm starting to understand why I was chosen for this job...
Lord of the Manor: You'll have to pardon me. I've only recently come into my fortune, so I haven't had time to polish any "social graces" or what have you. I am the lord of this manor. It's a pleasure.
Marianne: Likewise. Now, about the mission...
Alk: Psst, Marianne? We're in a posh manor, not the military. Remember?
Marianne: Ahem. Many pardons, Milord. If I recall, you requested my presence as your guest and bodyguard.
Lord of the Manor: Precisely. Apparently, it's a faux pas for the host to attend these events alone. It would attract the wrong kind of attention.
Lord of the Manor: To be frank, I don't understand these fussy rituals, but I need to keep up appearances if I want my business to succeed. Whatever gets the job done, I suppose.
Marianne: So that's why you made a request to the Maids' Parlor.
Lord of the Manor: Yes. I couldn't ask for just anyone, however, considering the potential danger.
Alk: And that's where Marianne comes in. She's more than capable of taking care of herself and acting as your security detail, right?
Lord of the Manor: It was the most logical course of action.
Alk: G-gotcha... Well, I guess if anyone can handle a job like this, it's Marianne.
Lord of the Manor: I've no doubt you'll fulfill your duty, Miss Marianne. Well, what say you?
Marianne: Understood. Should things get messy, I'm no stranger to disposing of the trash. On that front, you've no need to worry.
Marianne: However, you'll need more than just a bodyguard. You're hosting this ball to raise your profile, aren't you? You'll need it be a smashing success.
Marianne: The Maids' Parlor offers full-service support: everything from catering to staffing to cleanup. Assuming, of course, that it's within your budget.
Marianne: Think of it as hiring a group of top-tier mercenaries—they'll provide you with exactly what you need, for the right price.
Lord of the Manor: I'll do whatever it takes.
Maid: The catering and the staff for the ball are all set. Leave everything to us!
Marianne: Thank you. ...Sorry for heaping all this on you out of the blue. But I am grateful—I couldn't have handled all this on my own.
Maid: Oh, there's no need to be modest! With an event this big, you need all hands on deck. Besides, everyone's pockets are a little jinglier, if you know what I mean. And it's all thanks to you!
Lord of the Manor: ...Amazing. To think, you've done all this in such a short amount of time.
Marianne: The Maids' Parlor has a full complement of experts in various fields. It was no problem at all.
Lord of the Manor: You don't say. Well, I'm glad to have you on my side.
Marianne: Not at all, sir. I mean, Milord.
Marianne: That being said, the success of this mission depends on your hard work.
Lord of the Manor: My hard work?
Marianne: How is your dancing? If you'd like, I can take you through the steps.
Marianne: Are you ready?
Lord of the Manor: ...I'll do whatever it takes. Lead the way.
Marianne's attempt to teach her client dancing is cut short by an attempt on his life. Shaken, he admits his mercenary past haunts him. Marianne resolves to help the man adjust to civilian life.
Alk: Phew. Aaand we're done. All that's left is to plate everything tomorrow and then wait for the guests to arrive, right?
Stella: Correct. I'm looking forward to the ball. Let's make sure it's a success.
Alk: Right. Marianne's got a lot on her plate, so we'll do what we can to lighten her load.
Lord of the Manor: My apologies. Are you all right there, Marianne?
Marianne: I'm all right, but... It's proper etiquette to keep your eyes on your partner.
Marianne: I know you're nervous, but if your gaze keeps wandering like that, your partner's going to think you're eager to end the dance.
Marianne: Enjoy the evening, sir. Leave any possible complications to me.
Lord of the Manor: ...So, what? Are you saying I should focus on delivering empty compliments and dancing? Just leave myself as vulnerable as a sheep to the slaughter?
Marianne: You hired me to handle the tough stuff, didn't you?
Lord of the Manor: I know. It's not that I don't have faith in you, but I can't help but worry...
Servant: Please, put your mind at ease, sir. At this rate, you'll exhaust yourself before the ball even begins.
Servant: Why not have a nice warm mug of cider to soothe your nerves? It sounds like you could use a rest, anyway.
Lord of the Manor: No... My nerves are too wound up; I wouldn't be able to rest if I tried. Leave us be.
Servant: Oh, don't be like that sir. I only want—
Lord of the Manor: Don't come any closer!
Marianne: Who sent you? What are you doing here?
Servant: ...What do you mean? I'm just trying to do my job—
Marianne: Hmph. I remember the faces of all the staff, but not yours. So I'll ask you again. Who sent you here and why?
Servant: Jumped-up merchant! Prepare to die!
Marianne: Quick, somebody get some rope and cloth!
Alk: On it!
Lord of the Manor: I knew it. I knew it... Nobody can be trusted... nobody...!
Marianne: You knew someone has it out for you—that's why you hired me. Now, the more you can tell me about them, the better I can protect you.
Lord of the Manor: I'm sure you've done your research already. You know my background and what kind of business I manage.
Marianne: Started your career from the bottom as a mercenary, then worked your way up the ranks. Your successes as captain grew your troop into a profitable security enterprise.
Lord of the Manor: "Security enterprise." Hah. I'm not as grand as you make me sound. I'm the same as you—a man who sought a life off the battlefield.
Lord of the Manor: What you say is true. I secured countless victories. Eventually, I went from taking orders to giving them—from what should have been a safe, civilian home.
Marianne: You gained money, but not peace of mind. A soldier can leave the battlefield, but the battlefield will never leave them.
Marianne: That's what you're afraid of, isn't it?
Lord of the Manor: Yes... That's exactly right.
Lord of the Manor: Some people targeted my wealth. Some demanded I repent for my sins. And of course, some wanted me dead.
Lord of the Manor: I wonder which category my would-be assassin falls into. For every victory, I made enemies. I can't tell who's friend or who's foe anymore.
Marianne: I understand. Truly, I do. But you can't keep looking back over your shoulder. You have to move forward if you want to fulfill your—
Lord of the Manor: You think I don't know that?!
Lord of the Manor: I know very well what you're saying! But it's too much for me to bear... I'm tired of living every day looking over my shoulder, of jumping at every shadow...
Lord of the Manor: ...I think I'll retire for now. Please, leave me be.
Alk: I thought I'd find you out here. Are you thinking about what happened earlier today?
Marianne: ...Yeah. I want to help, but there's only so much I can do as a maid.
Marianne: I think he's one of the luckier ones. He's come out of countless battles unscathed, he can rub shoulders with the elite, and his business is flourishing to boot.
Marianne: On the flipside, there are those who've been dealt a bad hand. Some very unfortunate people even end up dead.
Marianne: Whatever our circumstances, though, we all have our battle scars. Nobody has the right to put salt in those wounds.
Marianne: What do YOU think I should do?
Stella: Follow your heart. You wish to help him, do you not?
Alk: Hmm... I think you should be honest with him. Tell him where you're coming from. I think that's the best way to deal with the situation.
Marianne: Heh... Easier said than done.
Alk: We've all got to start somewhere.
Marianne: True enough. I'll find Milord and bring him back here. Thank you... both of you.
Alk: No problem. We'll get back to prepping for the ball.
Stella: It will be the best ball ever.
Stella: I can't wait to see you dance.
Marianne: ...Understood. I'll do what I can.
The ex-mercenary worries he isn't cut out to be a merchant, but Marianne assures him she didn't learn to be a maid overnight—or on her own. With his new comrade's help, the host makes the evening a success.
Stella: It looks like everything is going well.
Alk: Yep! The food's all ready and the guests are here. All that's left is...
Marianne: For the host to make his appearance.
Marianne: I'll find him. Can I ask you to stay at your posts in the meantime?
Marianne: The ball can't get underway without you, sir.
Lord of the Manor: I know.
Marianne: You said you'd do what it takes.
Lord of the Manor: I know...
Marianne: Didn't you also tell me this ball had to be a success? That a lot's riding on it?
Lord of the Manor: ...I did. Tonight was supposed to be my debut into high Palpebran society—my chance to prove I belong here, not the battlefield.
Lord of the Manor: But I realize now that it was all in vain. I don't belong here.
Lord of the Manor: You're strong. Stronger than me. If only I was more like you... but I'm not.
Lord of the Manor: Consider this contract concluded. I'll handle the rest by myself, so please...
Marianne: Listen to yourself.
Marianne: You and I both know that no one wins a war alone.
Marianne: Adapting to civilian life is a series of small battles, and I could never have fought them by myself.
Marianne: Even now, I'm still fighting to fit in. But I'm fighting—with all I've got.
Lord of the Manor: Nonsense. You've already won your place in everyday society. There's no need for you to keep fighting...
Marianne: I may no longer be a soldier, but I still get hurt. Whenever I make a mistake, or when things don't go right, I still get in my head.
Marianne: My heart's covered in battle scars. The ocean of doubts stings. Sometimes it even threatens to drown me.
Marianne: But the reason I can keep my head above water is because I have people who are willing to lend me a hand and pull me from the deep.
Marianne: My friends don't take no for an answer and they won't let go. ...They're why I can stand here today as Marianne.
Marianne: The way I see it, you need a comrade-in-arms.
Marianne: I can be that for you. I mean, allow me to help, sir.
Lord of the Manor: Not "sir." Fazer.
Fazer: If you're going to be my comrade, I'd like you to call me by my name.
Marianne: ...Okay. Then let's go, Fazer. Your life beyond the battlefield awaits.
Fazer: ...Yeah. I'll do whatever it takes.
Marianne: I knew you had it in you.
Fazer: Right... You're right. Thank you for believing in me, Marianne.
Fazer: But if you don't mind, co-could you help me to a chair? I feel dizzy...
Marianne: ...All right, but take this and make yourself look presentable first. You're sweating bullets.
Marianne: Amateurs. Alk and the others were keeping tabs on you from the start.
Marianne: They're taking care of the riffraff at the rear entrance as we speak.
Marianne: As for you, I'll be serving you tonight—with a heaping platter of hurt.
Marianne: This is a ball—a place where people come to dance and let the magic of the night wash away their troubles.
Marianne: We wouldn't want to offend our guests by exposing them to the stench of trash.
Marianne: Good thing I've got my broom, dustpan—and my guns. There won't be a speck of dirt by the time I'm through.
Fazer: You really are made of tough stuff, Marianne.
Marianne: All maids worth their aprons are trained to handle any situation—including taking out the trash.
Fazer: Is that right. Then tell me, Marianne, what's the secret to that toughness?
Marianne: My comrades. The more support you have, the taller you can stand. And now that you've joined the ranks, I've become that much stronger.
Marianne: I may not have that many friends, but each one is precious to me. I hold them all close to my heart, just as they hold me close to theirs. Hehe.
Alk: Wow. I don't think I've seen you blush like that before.
Fazer: Comrades... Strength in numbers, huh. I don't know if I'll be any good at making friends, but...
Marianne: You will, Fazer. You just have to put in the effort.
Marianne: ...Anyway, perimeter's clear; we've got everything under control. Go and enjoy your party.
Fazer: Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks, Marianne.
Maid: Ohh, you're on a first name basis now? You must've gotten close.
Marianne: I call you by your name, don't I?
Maid: Not nearly enough. You're usually so shy about it. Come on, Marianne. Will you call me by my name?
Marianne: ...Taffy. It's not that I'm embarrassed... It's that your name... no, YOU are special to me.
Taffy: Hehe. You're special to me too, Marianne!
Marianne: Fazer reminds me of the old me. I think that's why I reached out to him. I wanted to be his guiding light, like you've been for me.
Marianne: I don't think I could ever repay your kindness, but I'd like to try. In that spirit...
Marianne: Would you like to dance, Taffy?
Taffy: ...You want to dance with me?
Marianne: It'd be a shame to let all this practice to go waste. I can take the lead, if you like.
Marianne: Unless you'd rather dance with someone else. I can find Fazer—
Taffy: Don't be silly! I'd probably step on the poor man's toes.
Taffy: Lead the way, Marianne!
Marianne: With pleasure!