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"Ordering me around as she pleases, that damn minced-meat woman!"

On the bridge of the battleship, Marie was kicking and beating a punching bag—or rather, a lump of metal prepared for that purpose.

She was venting her frustration on the punching bag to suppress her anger and excitement.

The bridge crew, accustomed to Marie's outbursts, ignored her and continued with their duties.

Standing beside her, her adjutant knight tried to calm the rampaging Marie.

"It's a shame we couldn't take down Viscount Traid, wasn't it?"

Marie glared at her adjutant's wry smile, resentful of the orders from the minced-meat woman—Tia.

"We were so close to finishing them off!"

Her tone was rough, but one could say this was the real Marie.

To her adjutant, her pseudo-aristocratic tone of speech sounded like nothing more than a facade.