Mumbles. Everywhere there were mumbles. The maids were mumbling, giggling, and whispering among themselves, throwing knowing smiles his way, mistakenly thinking they hid it well and there was no way he would be aware.

"Certainly, they were not talking behind your back, master," Belfast assured the Commander when he told her his concerns—that he may have done something wrong without realizing it.

"Then why are they looking at me funny?"

"I shall speak with them if you're troubled, master," Belfast offered, though the fact she didn't answer the question didn't go unnoticed. That slight pause between the question and her answer, too, felt peculiar, as did the fact that she, the ever-reliable, typically composed woman, allowed herself to be momentarily distracted. That raised even more questions, but the Commander soon decided he would put them on hold for now.

"Hm, very well. I would appreciate that," he returned to his papers, only looking up briefly to see her bowing to leave and nod.

A day after that conversation, the mumbles had ceased, as far as the Commander noticed. Everything had seemingly returned to normal.


"The master…is he not here yet…?" Belfast asked Edinburgh, who was just walking out of the Commander's office. Edinburgh shook her head—then smiled at her sister, a smile straddling the line of affection and amusement, knowing she had spent the better part of the morning looking for the Commander.

"Ye-yes…?"

"Nothing," Edinburgh replied and scurried away, and Belfast sighed. She had been doing that often even when her fellow maids were no longer bothering their master—because now they were bothering her instead. They were talking behind her back—or perhaps not because, unlike with the Commander, the likes of Kent, Suffolk, or even her sister made no effort to be discreet. She had given up trying to admonish them because, technically, they hadn't done anything warranting punishment.

And she cannot deny what they were saying about her, anyway. Her one-time slip, frustrating as it was, had been the catalyst, and she could only blame herself.

"Belfast?"

Hearing her name being spoken, Belfast immediately straightened up and whipped around to see the Commander looking back at her. She bowed at him.

"Mas—master."

"Sorry I'm late, damn traffic jams…are you looking for something?"

"Pardon…?"

"You were looking around when I arrived, you know. If you do, I could help."

The Commander was smiling at her. She shook her head and returned the gesture.

"I've found it, master."


The Commander didn't know if Belfast was aware of it, but she had been smiling more often these days. Not that thin inscrutable smile she would usually have to keep up appearances. They were easier to read—simple happy smiles that many times he'd find himself being drawn to.

If that fact was the only change she had shown, he wouldn't be so concerned.

"Good work, master; I shall see you tomorrow," Belfast bowed as she would usually do at the end of the work hours.

"Good work to you too. See you," replied the Commander. Like yesterday and the days before that, she, for a moment, seemed to mumble as if she wanted to say something but abruptly decided against it. Then, in a moment equally fleeting, she would look like someone who had swallowed something bitter and breathed a heavy sigh.

"On second thought, let's have dinner," the Commander declared after a moment of thinking instead of turning around to leave like Belfast thought he would. Then she smiled that simple happy smile of hers.

In the days that followed, the Royal Maid Corps continued to speak of that night, much to Belfast's chagrin. But nobody was mumbling behind someone else's back anymore. And she no longer mumbled in the struggle to say those words she had wanted to say.