Reincarnated with the Country System

( Scene Change:— Northern Ocean)

The ship was nothing like what they had imagined.

Elina stood by the window in the common room of Deck C, her reflection faint in the tempered glass. Beyond it stretched the endless black sea, calm and gleaming under the early evening sky. The Edelra cut through the waves without effort, almost too smoothly—as if it were not touching the water at all.

Behind her, the common room buzzed with quiet conversation. Students from Britannia, still in their layered robes and leather satchels, stood awkwardly near the sleek white walls. The metal benches and glowing light panels were a strange contrast to the carved wood and candlelit halls of their homeland.

Garven sank into one of the soft seats with a grunt. "These chairs feel like marshmallows."

Mirell glanced around nervously. "Everything here is so... white. So clean."

"Sterile," Elina added, not unkindly. "It's how the Bernardians design things. Minimal distractions, maximum function."

He gave her a look. "You say that like we're supposed to know what it means."

"I read the handbook," she said, without looking at him.

Garven rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

Across the room, Professor Aedric Valon, their designated supervisor and head of Britannia's Department of Empire Studies, was speaking with one of the ship's attendants. A tall, bearded man in his fifties, Professor Valon had been one of the few native intellectuals who advocated cooperation with the Empire after the annexation. Some called him a traitor. Others, a pragmatist.

He called himself a historian.

After a short conversation, he turned to face the students.

"All right, everyone," he said, his voice carrying authority without being loud. "Our journey will take approximately one days. We're currently moving at two hundred knots—not that you'll feel it, thanks to the vessel's inertial dampeners. You're welcome to explore Deck C, but stay clear of the restricted zones. Tomorrow morning, we'll attend the orientation in the Deck B auditorium."

He paused to let it sink in.

"Do not be late," he added dryly. "This is not Britannia. Punctuality is not optional."

The students nodded, some more earnestly than others.

Garven leaned over to Elina. "What's a 'knot'?"

"It's a speed unit used for sea travel. About... 370 kilometers per hour," she answered.

He blinked. "That fast? And we're not even moving!"

"We are," she said, pointing out the window. "You just don't feel it because the ship compensates for motion. It's all calibrated by the AI system."

Just then, a soft chime sounded from above.

"Attention passengers," said a clear, genderless voice from the ceiling. "Our Estimated arrival at Nova Albion: 26 hours. Orientation for academic guests will begin tomorrow at 0900 hours. Please enjoy your journey."

Several Britannians looked up in alarm.

Mirell grabbed Elina's arm. "Was that… someone watching us?"

"No," Elina said. "That's the central AI. It's just a voice interface. It handles the ship's functions and communications."

Garven scowled. "You keep saying that. AI this, AI that. Sounds like a magician's trick."

"It's not magic. It's machine logic. Machines that think, in their own way." Elina said. "They taught this in the integration classes."

Mirell echoed, frowning. "Like... a spirit?"

"Huh, Sort of,"

The group fell silent. It was hard to wrap their minds around it. Machines that could think? Give orders?

A moment later, a door opened with a soft hiss. A Bernardian woman entered. She wore a dark-blue uniform with silver stripes on the sleeves. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun, and she held a black tablet in one hand.

"Good evening," she said. Her voice was clear. "My name is Officer Irena Voss. I'm assigned to Deck C as your civilian liaison. I'll be your point of contact for any questions, concerns, or emergencies during this voyage."

A few students bowed slightly. Mirell tried to curtsy, then stopped halfway, confused.

Irena smiled politely. She had seen this kind of culture clash before.

"Tonight, you're free to rest or explore your deck. Please do not enter restricted areas—those are marked with red seals. The mess hall will serve meals at 1900 hours, and we recommend hydration. Our water is filtered and clean. Your cabins are located on the east side of this deck. Just follow the blue line on the floor."

They looked down. A glowing blue strip of light was embedded in the white flooring, leading down a hallway.

Irena's eyes swept the room. "Questions may be addressed to the wall terminals or relayed to me. Do not tamper with ship systems. Do not open emergency doors. And do not panic—if an alarm sounds, follow the blue arrows."

With a last nod, she turned on her heel and walked out.

The room exhaled.

Garven muttered, "Remind me again why we signed up for this?"

"Because it's the future," Elina said.

He raised an eyebrow. "Or because we were strongly encouraged to by the Ministry of Education."

Elina didn't reply. The truth was, it had been both.

.....

Later that night, the students sat in the mess hall, eating their first Bernardian meal.

It was... strange.

The food didn't look bad. But it was different. Packaged neatly in divided trays, labeled in tiny print, and heated by small built-in coils under the table.

"This bread has no crust," Garven muttered, staring at it.

"That's not bread," Elina said. "That's a processed nutrient loaf."

Mirell poked at something green with her spoon. "Is this a vegetable or a jelly?"

Elina smiled. "Both. Bernardian science made hybrids for long voyages. They say these meals have more nutrients than a whole Britannian feast."

Garven made a face. "But less flavor."

They ate slowly, unsure if they were being watched. No one forced them, but the walls had small black circles—camera eyes, Elina guessed. The other passengers, mostly Bernardian technicians and scholars, ate in silence, their utensils quiet against synthetic trays.

After dinner, the students wandered to the viewing deck.

Here, the outer wall was one huge window. The ocean stretched forever, lit now by soft moonlight. The stars above were clearer than any they had seen from Britannia.

"They say the Monstrous Sea is beyond this ocean," Mirell whispered.

"Still a long way off," Elina said. "But yes. Thousands of kilometers past Nova Albion. That's where the true Empire begins."

"Do monsters really live there?" Garven asked.

Elina nodded. "They did. Maybe still do. But the Bernardians have already cleared many of them."