The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

[kayenano]

I led the way, Starlight Grace in hand.

The darkened stairs wound on relentlessly.

There wasn't a hint of the pleasing spiral my bedroom tower offered. Sharp and angular, it zig-zagged with clockwork precision into the depths of the mountain until I was no longer counting the steps.

Normally, this would be little more than an exercise in dullness. Yet as I descended this veritable tunnel beneath a floating eyeball's bathtub, it was not mud and roughly hewn rocks which were lit by my sword's glare.

It was walls of finely engraved stone, the surface so keenly chiselled that it shone like a mirror.

Whereas the caverns overhead were undoubtedly the work of amateurs, this was the product of professional stonemasons.

A glance was all I required. I offered my full inspection instead.

Few things etched upon bare walls earned my attention. But these were not the coarse recesses where a poorly laid flaming spike waited to be sprung.

Octagonal patterns decorated the tunnel, the distinct lines as accurately measured as the steps. A statement as loud as the boisterousness of those who had carved them, for few would fail to recognise the handiwork on display.

"Dwarves," I said simply.

Indeed, it was no small feat to carve through a mountain.

It was even harder to dig beneath it.

But for dwarven stonemasons, it was a greater accomplishment to prevent my nose from wrinkling. Something they regularly failed to do.

"Dwarves~!" repeated Coppelia with a joyful fling of her arms. A moment later, she tilted her head. "Huh, that's weird. We don't normally have dwarves in Ouzelia."

"Is that so? How strange. I'd have thought the mountains of Ouzelia were rife for illegal looting."

"Oh, they definitely are. We actually used to have loads of dwarves, but the last ones left ages ago."

"I see. Did they manage to fully excavate your most prosperous mountains with one hand while claiming ignorance with the other?"

"Nope. Still filled with treasure. It's just that it's really hard to illegally mine anything in Ouzelia without a dragon coming in and yoinking it away. Those guys really mess up other people's long term looting plans when they just keep taking all their stuff."

I nodded.

"Dragons. The kings of vultures. But I admit they at least ensure your nation's wealth does not abscond."

"Mmh~ dragons have loads of uses. You can have amazing picnics. Just find a nice dragon lair, sit outside the entrance and every now and again, whack the ground a whole bunch of times with a broomstick. The flame which comes out can make the best fondue sandwiches."

"... Coppelia, do you purposefully aggravate your dragon in order to acquire melted cheese?"

"Ahahaha." Coppelia waved her hand dismissively. "Yes."

I gave it a moment's thought, then hummed in agreement.

"Very well, then. An excellent use of your time. To purposefully fatigue a dragon ensures one fewer available to ferry me away in the night."

"Well, I don't think the big guy is one you need to worry about. Especially if dwarves are scampering around the place. They don't have a good relationship, what with the constant yoinking and all."

"Then he may rejoice. As much as dwarves enjoy squatting beneath mountains they do not own, if they were actually present, they'd ensure every ear in the realm knew it … even those desperately searching for peace in a tower."

"Ooh, it sounds like I'm about to hear a princess story."

"Not at all. Mine's an experience so ordinary that even the commoners outside the Royal Villa can share in it."

"They got really drunk and insulted everyone, didn't they?"

"It was awful, Coppelia. A modest delegation, I was told. I'd never hear it from my tower. Do you know what happened? … Halfway through the night, I thought they were tunnelling beneath the ground. They were simply snoring instead."

I shuddered as the memories came as clear as the shaking of my bed frame.

"Even without being drunk, their rowdiness was enough to echo after they'd left. And still they had no interest to be exploited by our merchants and traders for our selfish gains. Dwarves know as much about diplomacy as they do about gardening."

"Weeeell, there aren't a lot of flowers underground."

"All the more tragic we find ourselves here, then." I frowned at the engravings, each etched with immaculate monotony. "Still, these walls were made by dwarves. But not for dwarves. This is no abandoned holding we've discovered. I recognise these patterns."

"You can't tell me this came from a brochure."

I shook my head. If only it were.

"Worse. Even the most basic of overpriced dwarven designs come with basic motif engraving as standard. But these markings are far too unassuming. Not a single meaningless swirl or cadaver effigy exists as a distinguishing characteristic. And anybody who commissions dwarven stonemasons would also have the wealth to debase their creation appropriately."

An unorthodox combination.

Dwarven architecture without ceremony. Like peasants without soil.

The air was stale, but not rancid. These tunnels were used. But not by anyone who needed torches, golems or servants to accidentally drop a ledger detailing the cost of hiring dwarves.

My suspicions rose at once … as did my trepidation.

Something was amiss.

And as a whispering echo filled my ears, I knew my fears would shortly prove true.

The bottom of the stairwell revealed itself at last. Granite so polished a troll would try to sell it as marble. Likely bundled with the great archway now towering overhead. It was a thing so immaculately carved and oversized it could have stood as its own monument … for what it welcomed us to was the depths of a mountain no more appropriate for a dragon than a princess.

And still–not a single motif.

I pursed my lips as a sliver of fear entered my innocent heart.

Indeed, I had no more doubt as I viewed the archway bereft of a single personalised quotation, much less the tasteless gargoyles that such a thing insisted on being flanked by. The result was that it wasn't even dull.

No, it was well beyond that.

It was simply … functional. And the reason was as obvious as it was dire.

"Coppelia, this place … was prebuilt."

I shuddered as I took in the warning signs.

No house sigils, no emblems, no skulls and no squiggles. Here was a canvas destined never to be scribbled upon, its architects long having left for more exciting work.

Coppelia blinked up as she admired the blandness of it all.

"Gasp. We are not ready."

"I know. This is unimaginable. We are dealing with somebody with such low standards that they simply purchased the site of their schemes outright from what was available."

"What can we possibly do against such a being?"

"I don't know. Nobody does. Anyone capable of purchasing a prebuilt lair is capable of anything. For all we know, they don't even commission their own generic fruit bowl paintings. They purchase them from a gallery instead. Because it's all the same."

A shudder ran through me.

Even so, I would not turn back now.

"Very well." I lifted my chin. "We must prepare for the worst. The end is near–as well as whatever malevolence awaits. I can smell the ill will like the dust in the air. It is time at last to rescue your dragon."

"Aww."

"Hm?"

"I mean, yay!"

I pursed my lips.

Then, certain in the knowledge Coppelia most definitely wanted me home as much as I did, I swallowed a deep breath before forcing myself to peer ahead. Only a hollow chasm met me, and a breeze which had likely been a prisoner as long as the darkness.

I strolled forward to meet it all.

As Coppelia and I passed beneath the bland archway, our footsteps clattered in our wake. But only for a moment. A great hall fit for any number of hill giants immediately revealed itself, so vast that even our echoes failed to reach the walls.

But that alone wasn't what muffled our presence or caused my mouth to widen.

No … it was because for all its size, the hall was not empty.

Quite the opposite.

It was filled to the very brim … by books.

Piles and piles of books.

Where Starlight Grace pointed, I was met by a desert where every grain of sand was a page and every dune a small mountain of books.

Here and there, I saw hints of the furnishings which came as standard, now absorbed by their new tenants. The shelves of cabinets and tables alike lay broken beneath the weight of their burdens with no respite in sight. Because for all the works on display, this was assuredly no library.

I was aghast.

"W-What is this … ?"

A treasure trove of books the likes of which could fill up all the libraries and book stores of my kingdom … and they were piled like autumn leaves left to rot!

Pages unending which had been filled with the sweat and hardship of those who had penned them!

As a scholarly princess, such a mistreatment was anathema to my eyes … nor was I alone in my horror!

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~"

Indeed … as the resident librarian slid down a dune of books, arms in the air as she came to a stop before me, I could very, very almost see the grief hidden amidst her bright smile!

"C-Coppelia! This is no time to be sliding down a mound of books!"

"Wrong. It's always time to be sliding down a mound of books! It's great! Try it!"

"I will not," I said as I began climbing the nearest mound. "Why in anyone's name are all the books to have ever been written lying here? And why have they been … spewed so thoughtlessly? This is an insult to the craft of all who have ever strived to put words onto pages!"

I slid down the pile of books.

Not because I wanted to. But because I was simply forced to. The clear path weaving between the makeshift slides? I never saw it.

"I mean, that depends on your definition of a book," said Coppelia, who too was cursed with poor eyesight as she skipped to the bigger mound in front. I pursed my lips in dissatisfaction. "Do you count shopping lists as works of literature?"

"Excuse me?"

Coppelia scooped a book and raised it towards me.

I leaned in to read the cover. I couldn't. The title wasn't embossed. It'd merely been scratched in.

"Weekly reagent purchases," she said while flipping through the pages. "It's a list of things purchased over the course of a year. Vegetables, socks and reagents all mixed together. No name and no context."

A moment later, she plucked another book. She flipped through it. And then she repeated the process with another, and then another.

"Let's see … a recipe book with sporadic cooking times and ingredient quantities. A memoir pining over a lost love. Notes on chores still yet to be completed. A ledger filled with laundry costs. Aaaaand … an autobiography."

"... Oh? Who by?"

"No idea. They forgot to write their name."

I was appalled as I slid down the next mound.

These … These were not treasured works serving to entertain me!

They were junk!

"How dare such a vast amount of parchment be used so senselessly! Why, this is clearly a waste of good kindling! For what reason would such an awful collection exist, buried like treasure beneath a mountain?"

"No idea. I don't recognise any of the names written down. The ones who remembered to."

"... Could this have anything to do with your dragon?"

"Not unless the big guy suddenly has an interest in budgeting for a pet hamster. He only reads the kind of stuff which you use to hide scandalous books behind."

I nodded as I climbed the pile I'd just slid down for no other purpose than the vantage it allowed.

Indeed, from here, I could easily see the worst case scenario.

Somewhere, a dragon who ensured his tomes of knowledge were before him and not in the hands of my tutors was now separated from what he most cherished. And all he had was literal clutter.

"I see … then there's only one possible explanation. Cruelty. To offer such works to a dragon must be more tortuous than any blade or spell."

"Yeah. He'd get bored petty fast. The quality of this parchment is so bad you can't even doodle on it. Not that I've ever seen him do it. All the time during the annual staff meeting."

An unexpected pang of sympathy rose within me.

To be forced to endure meetings once a year. As a princess who too was overworked, I understood the pain.

"Then his plight is greater than I imagined … by any chance, would you know if the dragon is near?"

"I'm pretty sure he is. The big guy smells like an old book. A really musky old book that's aged as well as a mouldy barrel. Which is pretty much everything down here. But it feels like he's here."

I nodded as I slid down the next mound.

And then I stood up, patted myself down and regally walked the rest of the way ahead. It was time for princess business.

"Very well, then. It won't do to see him suffer any more. Nor us, for that matter. We need to leave before the aroma of mouldy barrel stains us as well."

"Okie~"

Coppelia offered a giggle. Then helped prod me along as I navigated through the sea of books.

Here and there, a sign of life flashed in the periphery. It could have been a bat or a lost mole. Yet no matter which horror awaited, I accepted no obstacle before me.

Unless, of course, it was a dead end.

I was stunned at what I saw.

A second archway awaited at the end of the hall, greater than even the one we'd entered from. But whereas this was wide enough to boast any gate … there was instead a wall.

My mouth widened in horror.

Because amidst the functional, if unfashionable hall devoid of personalisation, here was the only thing out of character. Far from the identical stonework with matching engravings on display, it was simply filled with … bricks.

Just bricks.

Common red bricks.

No different than found used to shore up dockside warehouses where none but drunken sailors could ignore them. A sight so ghastly it made the barnyard hovels of baronesses look fashionable.

"W-Why is there a wall here?! … And why is it so ugly?!"

To my surprise, Coppelia's agreement looked startlingly similar to a nod of admiration.

"Oooh … not bad~"

"N-Not bad?!" I turned around at the dunes of books, searching for hidden faces peeking over them. "You cannot utter words like that! If any of my nobility were to hear such words, I'd need to requisition my ominous choir to tail them for months!"

"This is pretty smart, though!"

"It's a brick wall. One in place of where a door could be waiting. With hinges. Clearly, the mastermind behind this travesty didn't think about how they intended to get out afterwards."

"Yup, that sounds about right! Here in Ouzelia, our masterminds aren't really concerned with small details like that. They just want to survive. Especially if they think a heroine is about to arrive."

She leaned forwards and poked the mortar binding the bricks.

It squished.

The mixture was still wet. I raised my arms in exasperation.

"Do you mean somebody just built a wall for us?!"

"Great, huh?"

"No! … What kind of greeting is that?!"

"One where they're really bad with introductions. This wall was definitely designed for a heroine. Mazes and traps and doors only slow them down. But a wall? They wouldn't know what to do. They'd be stuck here forever without a lever to pull or a magical gadget conveniently left around to help them."

I clenched my grip around my sword.

"Well, luckily we suffer no such inhibitions."

Coppelia raised her arm at once. And then began stretching her leg.

"Me, me, me! I'll do it! It won't feel like home until I've kicked something down!"

Uggghhh.

I gave one final groan. We'd lasted so long.

"Do you have to? Can't you simply … poke the wall? It's not even set."

"It's tradition! The big showdown is obviously ahead. You can't just poke a wall down."

I placed my face in my palms.

It was all I could do. In the end, this wasn't my kingdom. If standard etiquette was to break down walls, then who was I to suggest otherwise?

"I'm not looking," I said, looking so far away I somehow ended up peeking in Coppelia's direction.

She beamed. I could have seen it without Starlight Grace's light. But even if I didn't, the sound of her leg as it swung like a bat painted an image as vivid as the destruction to follow.

"[Coppelia Kick]!"

Bwaam.

The wall went down, bricks and dust flying as I regretfully raised my sword at the sight before me.

However … the moment I waved the worst of it away and stepped through the newly made improvement, I forgot the mess at once.

A vast cavern awaited.

One as large as another I'd seen not long ago.

A dragon's lair, punctuated by streams of moonlight.

And this time, its inhabitant was not missing.

Within this abode of blackened stone was a living memory from the days of old. A symbol of both strength and lineage. A figure made as much of magic as it was blood. Of stories and history, legend and myth. Each with truths and lies both indistinguishable and inseparable.

Before me, an ancient green dragon slept upon a pile of gold.

Wings which covered the cavern in a shadow even while at rest. Claws which could pierce and reshape the land whole. Scales which blunted both fangs and swords. And four … yes, four legs.

I checked.

Twice.

A majestic sight captured countless times in the drawings of fairytales and the nightmares of innocent princesses. And now I was creeping closer. However, it had little to do with the great chains shackling the dragon's limbs, each so black that they absorbed my sword's light.

No … it was the simple fact that on this rare occasion, it was not the dragon who was my foe.

It was the girl sitting upon the end of its snout.

One leg crossed over the other in a classical pose of wickedness at play, her foot dangled idly in the air.

A lively smile. A youthful face. And luminously pink hair.

A girl in a frilled pinafore dress, its appearance halfway between a book vendor and a maid's uniform.

And most tellingly of all, a large golden key upon her back.

"Ah, I forgot to say something before I sent you off," said Fleur the clockwork librarian. She clapped her hands together and sweetly smiled with a tilt of her head. "... Welcome to Ouzelia."

 

[kayenano]

A hoard of treasure.

Gemstones, jewellery and unassorted tableware. If it shone, it existed upon a heap of gold.

And that included a dragon.

A truly mesmerising sight. Each scale glimmered like a shard of pristine emerald, putting even the fairy tales to shame. Here was a being who would never know the threat of poverty and all the slightly larger than average strawberries it brought, for he himself was a symbol of wealth.

Literally so.

He was a walking, flying vault … and that meant I'd brook no excuses!

Indeed, one way or another, this dragon was going to contribute to the prosperity of my kingdom!

If he could take to the sky, he could take to the Royal Treasury. And I had little doubt my servants would desire nothing more than to catch the rapidly falling pieces of treasure, knowing as my tax inspectors safely retrieved them away that my joy was all the warmer for it.

A fine sight and a finer thought, both worthy of my most innocent smile.

There was just one small problem.

A blot so familiar it was the signature on every worthy endeavour.

Betrayal.

"My, how wonderful, Miss Fleur," I said to the clockwork librarian idling upon the dragon's snout. "... It is Fleur, yes? Or is it Fiore or Flora or–"

"It's Fleur."

"Excellent. Because I see loyalty is fragile no matter where I go. A welcome relief. It's wonderful to know only my time has been betrayed, not my expectations."

The girl offered a lively smile.

She ceased dangling her foot, instead swinging her legs up and down while casually booting the dragon's snout with her heels.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to. My loyalty is as durable as the enchanted steel I'm made from."

"Then it must have been enchanted by a hag to be so brittle. I note you appear to have grown restless from posing. Have you been waiting long?"

"Only from the exact moment I sent you to search for a heroine who I'm told is enjoying a holiday far from here. You appear to have lost your way."

"Quite so. I should be in my orchard measuring the bounciness index of the spring grass. Instead, I find myself here, forcing myself to wonder how I might have my horse carry this much gold up so many steps. Would you have a suggestion?"

"Yes. That you consider a different dilemma. This gold isn't yours. It is the property of the Hidden Library."

I clapped my hands in delight.

"My, then isn't it well I've a more fitting representative to grant it all to me? Two, in fact. A dragon who will doubtless be grateful to be rescued from his plight. And an assistant librarian who's sadly at threat of being promoted into an impending vacancy."

Coppelia, for her part, was silently eyeing the bound and helpless dragon before her.

She offered no words at the cruel sight. Indeed, she couldn't. Especially while she was clearly holding back a quivering finger while deliberating the ramifications of poking said bound and helpless dragon.

I nudged her with my elbow.

"Oooh, Fleur!" she said, only now peering up at her colleague. She wore the joyful expression of one as accustomed to betrayal as I was. A most fitting handmaiden. "You found the big guy!"

"I did. And you found the Other Library."

Coppelia pointed behind her.

"You mean the free slides?"

"I mean our greatest shame. This is where the works deemed unfitting for the main library are kept."

"... Like shopping lists?"

"Like shopping lists."

The smile didn't fall from the clockwork librarian's lips. But the blush on her cheeks lessened.

"Yet it doesn't end there. There are also household cleaning notes, haircut appointment reminders and random scribbles not even legible to whoever wrote them. All given as payment for frequenting our curated shelves, filled with knowledge stretching back to the first word."

"Really? I didn't know we accepted litter. Didn't we only take books as an admission fee?"

"Books by the famed and the illustrious. But how are we to know who will one day be a great wizard or a great hack? What is a shopping list today might contain the key to a working philosopher's stone in the future. Or so our master believes. And so this sad pit is needed to bury the tragedy which is our lax admittance rules, until one scribble might prove valuable a thousand years down the line."

Coppelia tilted her head in thought.

Then, she looked around her at the scattered bricks once more.

"Huh. Which meeting did we talk about this? Because I'm pretty sure I fell asleep."

"There was no meeting. And stop falling asleep."

"Oh, phew. So just regular secret stuff, then?"

"Regular secret stuff you're not told precisely because of this attitude. You started working in the library before I did, and you're still an assistant."

"Ahaha~ I try."

The younger librarian's smile quivered.

"Try in the other direction. If you want to know all the secrets of the library, you need to start taking your duties more seriously. The way you mess around doing who knows what in the muddiest, bleakest and saddest backwaters of the continent instead of your assigned task is unacceptable."

I gave a little gasp.

To think Coppelia's work involved straying into the Granholtz Embassy! When did that happen?

"Hey! I take my work seriously! I review every bakery I visit in the Coppelia Guidebook!"

"That isn't your job."

"Hmmmm~ are you sure? Because it sort of feels like our jobs are flexible. I thought yours was making sure the big guy takes his witch's brew so his snores don't shake the library. But you've gone ahead and added a bunch of chains which really don't look secure in the slightest as well. They must be comfortable. I don't hear a thing."

Fleur sat up a little straighter, the pride evident in the way she ceased swinging her legs.

"Naturally. Unlike yourself, I take my role seriously. Which is why I've been working hard to resolve all the issues the library currently faces."

"Really? Does that include the bottom floor bathroom? Because I'm tired of hearing the complaints just because humans are gross."

"Actually, yes. We're now finally able to afford hiring a plumber."

"... Eh? We have to pay someone?"

"Of course we have to pay someone. We have to pay everyone. Do you think our workers from Witschblume hike through a forest out of generosity? Or that the enchantments maintain themselves? Or the treants are fine with just eating intruders?"

"I mean, I figured that's what the free buffet table is for."

"The free buffet table isn't free. And I've decided to get rid of it. The library isn't a restaurant."

Coppelia gasped.

She stepped away, seeing at last the full extent of the betrayal before her.

"Oh boy. You're in trouble now. You know how much the big guy likes those cheap pancakes."

A girlish laugh filled the stale air.

"Trouble? Why would I be in trouble? I'm doing as I've been commanded. My role is to keep the library functional. Something my gift shop, my fundraisers and my enslaved overseer exploiting the minds and vulnerabilities of the very wealthy has allowed to happen."

"Well, you better be quick. You don't have much time to fix the bathroom before you get bonked."

"I have all the time in the world. Because the first issue I'm fixing is the most pressing."

Fleur pointed at the dragon beneath her. At last, her lively smile was erased.

"Him."

In response to the knitted brows, the ancient green dragon gave a whiff of a snore. Whatever words lost in time that meant, Coppelia could only agree with a shrug.

"Eehh, if he did something to annoy you, I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know what he's like."

"I know exactly what he's like."

The girl with the pinafore dress raised herself, standing upon the dragon's snout.

She briefly peered behind her. The expression of distaste she wore as she took in the sight of the dragon was still stuck to her face as she turned to us.

"He is lazy," she declared. "Do you think this is some alchemist's concoction I've put him under? That I forced him into these chains? He is simply tired. From a short flight, no less. He's spent so long curled up in his lair that only a whisper of an unearthed 5th edition of The Arcane Atlus could rouse him. And this is the result. A slumber as though he's just burned down a minor town."

Fleur clenched her fists, trying and failing to quell her dissatisfaction.

In fact, she only seemed to grow more discontent.

"... Are you aware, Coppelia, of who our master was before he was called Virudaax the Learned?"

"No, and I feel like it'd be awkward to find out now. He's definitely been arrested for something weird."

"He's never been arrested."

"Are you sure? … Because sometimes I look at him and I think, yup, he's spent time behind bars."

"He's a dragon. He can't be arrested. And that's the whole point. He was Virudaax the Venomous."

"Ohhh … that was a real title? I just thought people called him that sometimes because he's grumpy."

"No. They call him that because he used to rule the skies over Witschblume with an iron claw. Now he can barely rule a library. A dragon without a hoard is a dragon without pride. That is an insult to someone so great. But the worst slight comes from himself. All he does is sleep and read and eat as he sees fit. Our master needs to work. He has not a speck of dignity. And I will see it restored."

Coppelia nodded.

Then, she turned to me with an enthusiastic smile.

"... Do you wanna do the thing now?"

I blinked in response … all the while clasping both hands tightly over my mouth as I struggled to hold back the wheeze.

After much effort, I summoned every inch of the trained actress in me to still my emotions. I sucked in a deep breath, felt my mind clear, then gingerly raised a palm.

"Please don't mind me. I'm holding back my judging laughter in respect of your right of priority. This is your colleague's inane scheme, after all."

"Oh, it's fine! You can go ahead!"

"Truly? … Very well, then."

I nodded as I instantly dropped a hand, shifting the other to only barely cover my smile.

And then–

"… Ohhohhohohohohho!!"

The mocking laughter reverberated throughout the cavern. Its echo was the only reply as the clockwork librarian offered a querying tilt of her head.

"Excuse me … but is something about this conversation amusing, adventurer?"

"It is. And I wouldn't dare insult your craft by implying otherwise. Tragic comedies are notoriously difficult to write. To possess the absolute worst reason for kidnapping a dragon while simultaneously earning my ire is a play unlike any I've had the chance to throw a rotten apple at. An impressive 6.5/10. Frankly, I had no idea Ouzelia's theatre scene was so developed. If you give me a moment, I will return with the worst apples my saddlebag has to offer."

"This is not a play."

"No? … And yet your overly dramatic line about your dragon lacking pride is particularly noteworthy."

I held up my finger, silencing the reply.

"You speak as if your dragon degrades himself. Rest assured, it's quite the opposite. By lazing, he displays he is above the expectations of those beneath him. That is pride. He does not need to be in the sky to rule any more than a king needs to be on a throne. He is and will always be a dragon. And the greatest insult is for one of his own subordinates to claim to know his wishes or needs."

The librarian's expression had not a hint of a permanently grateful hue to it.

That dropped her score to a 3.5/10. To pretend to be filled with gratitude for my remarks was a basic staple when being judged by me.

"You hold dragons in high regard. That is a mistake. They are as slovenly as the worst of us."

"Please. You may insult your employer, but not me. There is no us. I am in a league of my own. When it comes to my ability to curl up in my bed, not even a dragon can match me."

"Then it's just as well your influence will not affect him. When he wakes, he will take to the sky as he is meant to. As a dragon of old, earning both his keep and the respect of those around him."

I pointed helpfully at the very large dragon.

"Clearly, not all clockwork dolls are made equal. If you were, your eyes would see that you have as much means to force this dragon to fly as you do me."

The clockwork doll's smile returned in full.

Frankly, she was wasted in a library. To telegraph the exact moment she'd reveal the crux of her scheme meant she was better plying her trade in court.

"True … I cannot force him into any action." She gestured at my impending payment for dragon rescue services. "But gold can. For dragons who witness treasure do more than sleep on it. They covet it."

Coppelia clicked her fingers, understanding lighting up her face where boredom only filled mine.

"Ooh, I get it now! That's how you want to make him work again! … Goldlust!"

"Goldlust," repeated Fleur in satisfaction. "The disease all dragons fight. And for one who has not seen the corner of a treasure chest for centuries, the brightness of even a modest heap will overwhelm him like stars to a hermit. He will take to the sky as he once did, gathering all wealth towards him as his forgotten instincts compel him to."

Coppelia nodded fervently.

"Mmh, mmh~ that sounds terrible."

"So it will be for all those who have mocked him, even as they took advantage of his shelves."

"No, I mean, terrible as in not going to work. You know a hero's just going to come along, right?"

The almighty scoff which came was the only appropriate thing I'd heard all day.

"A hero? … Do you see what heroes are these days? They are not dragonslayers. They are diplomats. And they are predictable. Once a hero comes to calm the master from his goldlust, he will return as a dragon refreshed both in mind and in gold, for not even the bravest hero would dare separate a dragon from his riches. That would be moronic."

Clink.

I kneeled down to examine an amber garnet peeking out from the pile. Middling quality. But passable.

I popped it into my bottomless pouch.

"A novel plan," I said, generously ignoring the scandalised look towards me. "To drive your own dragon to madness. Unfortunately, I need him whole enough to agree to my demands. And your written confession will make for a mildly useful bargaining chip when I exploit him for my own ends."

I waited for her to begin fishing for a piece of parchment from the endless nearby piles.

She didn't. Yet.

"I think not," she replied. "You are a stranger here. You've no right to ask anything of a blade of grass."

"Incorrect. Every blade of grass currently owes me compensation for leeching off my warming presence. I intend to claim in full. Beginning with what you conveniently have available."

The librarian leaned slightly forwards. Her blasé expression answered before her words did.

"No," she said simply. "And I will not allow you to disrupt our master's awakening."

"If you've a single working cog, you shall. For the alternative is to raise arms against one of your own. You may be a terrible schemer, but I do not believe that your quest to cruelly lift this dragon from his deserved life of sloth means you would consider harming Coppelia. She is not only your co-worker, but also your less treasonous cousin for all I know."

Clap.

A flash of darkness filled the cavern. But it hadn't come from the clockwork doll in front of me.

Instead, I turned to see the sight of Coppelia innocently whistling as she hugged a giant scythe.

"Coppelia?!" I said, already grieving for the next few moments.

"Present~!"

"Why do you have your scythe out?!"

"Hm? Isn't this the bit where we normally beat each other up?"

"Yes, it is! But that's beside the point! Surely, there's an amicable solution which results in our complete victory which doesn't involve wanton violence against one of your own?"

"Ahahaha~ that boat's sailed aaaages ago."

Fleur gave a simple nod.

"It's true. Our training as librarians involve studious amounts of practical exercises in throwing out troublesome guests. Naturally, we practise with each other."

Ughhhhh.

I sent my groan towards the pinprick of a night sky peeking high through the cavern ceiling.

"... Fine. I see restraint is not on today's theatre programme. And what is your weapon, then? Do you also possess a giant shadowy scythe?"

"Only Coppelia has something ridiculous like that."

"Yeah," she replied. "Because I'm amazing."

I held out my palm, waiting for whatever ghastly answer which was still yet to be deposited.

"Very well, then. You don't misuse farming tools. What weapon do you abuse?"

"I don't have a weapon."

Clap.

The clockwork librarian brought her hands together.

However, there was no flash of engulfing darkness. No blade or spell answered her call.

Instead … it was something far, far worse.

"I have administrator access to the Clockwork Repository," she said, her hands separating to a black window as ominous as it was familiar. "That means my weapon is all the things stored inside."

I pursed my lips.

Few things gave me reason to pause. But the litany of … stuff which Coppelia put in that mysterious black box of hers were all of them.

Frankly, everything she'd ever tossed inside was a concern.

However … if I had to pick the absolute worst one, it was undoubtedly something she'd given over to the library itself. A thing so ghastly I needed to strain my mind to remember it.

Which is why–

I felt nothing but grief as a large, disembodied silhouette poked through the inky surface.

Scales as black as midnight. A row of serrated fangs, save for one which had been hacked off courtesy of an insane elven woman. And a pair of golden eyes simmering with all the shades of disdain, humiliation, fury and imminent satisfaction.

"Well now," said the wyvern head. "If it isn't the consequences of your actions."

The jaws tightened into an impression of a smile.

And then–

That black maw opened to a gathering ball of flames.

 

[kayenano]

I stepped back.

And then I stepped back again.

Again and again, I sought to retreat until I'd found a path leading me to the sanctuary that was my kingdom. Or if not that, a patisserie which I've never once visited but where I can still ask for the usual and be served exactly what I wished. I wasn't picky.

Sadly, it was to no avail.

Despite taking as many as three and a half steps back, Ouzelia and its many horrors remained firmly in my sight. And currently, they were all the same thing.

A foe I never expected.

For even in my worst nightmares regarding this land of oddballs, I could never have predicted to meet an adversary so far beyond my ability to comprehend.

Yes.

It was this ...

"Heheh heh heh … hahahah hahahahah!"

A foe I'd already defeated before!

My knees quivered as my hands alternated between covering my mouth and my eyes.

I could have worn a blanket over my face. It wouldn't have been enough to hide the gall I was feeling, nor the horror I was currently seeing.

Such... Such shamelessness!

There was disregard to common decency! And then there was this!

Tactlessness beyond even what a knight left unsupervised by a wary father for 5 minutes in the countryside could do! As a gentle princess with a heavily armed battleship to my name, such a flagrant insult to decorum was beyond my ability to fathom!

Pwooooosh.

Indeed!

As a ball of molten fury hurled, no, spat disgustingly past my shoulder, I could not even spare a glance at the explosion of parchment behind me. As the embers rushed past the archway and tickled my back, all I saw was the maddened glint of impropriety coming from a wyvern head's eyes.

I was horrified.

"I see you've learned how to tremble. A sight as sweet as the justice to come. Know that while I am quelled, I am undefeated. Even in hardship and strife, I persevere. A living talisman to the tenacity of elvenkind, I remain the greatest wordswordswordswords …"

And then … I saw the truth of it.

Perhaps another princess would have fainted at the wanton lack of shame. But beyond the boasts which failed to enter my ears, I knew that not even the greatest of weeds could survive if so withered and broken as this fallen schemer was.

Not unless it was permitted to by the newly sprouting vines around it.

"How … How dare you!" I said to the clockwork librarian. She smiled as she practically held up her hostage, no differently than a puppeteer in a circus. "To use a foe I've already defeated is both callous and cruel! This nameless commoner with no distinguishable characteristics clearly lacks the minimum requirements to be a recurring villain, yet you force him out of his corner of shame for his pride to be trampled once again!"

"Nameless commoner! I am Eucion of the Stars, and I will–"

"You will do as you're told," interrupted Fluer, her tone less sweet than her smile. "And that is to breathe fire. Now."

The wyvern head said nothing.

Instead, the golden eyes narrowed for a moment, before its maw obediently widened to a hint of flames.

I was aghast.

"Wha– I thought you were merely stepping on him! But to have trained this peasant into being a jester's flaming brand is to stuff him beneath the carpet first! His pride cannot even be seen!"

"This is simply an agreement! One I would have done freely if I knew vengeance would come so swiftly!"

I couldn't arrange my face to appear appalled enough. Lacking wrinkles or blemishes, there was only so much I could do.

"Look at this!" I said, gesturing towards the pitiable sight. "The commoner is so bereft of wits he believes an agreement with someone in the middle of kidnapping their own employer holds any merit! How could you possibly derive satisfaction from someone so hapless he could not even be trusted to spill wine over the correct dignitary's lap?"

The wyvern head shook with indignation. And yet with all the guile of a baron at court realising his very first betrayal, he slowly tilted himself towards his conjurer.

The librarian raised a brow.

"Could you please not overtly attempt to distract my portable flame apparatus? I've been told you are wholly responsible for his current predicament. It's outrageous to try to claim gall on his behalf."

"I am only responsible for guiding the commoner onto the path of humility. Why, it is an utter scandal that my hard work is at threat of being undone so carelessly!"

"Please. You did nothing. I was the one who had to process him. I had to invent an entire category for archdruids dispossessed of a body. And then I had to arbitrate between all the different departments who wanted him. My ears are still ringing from the complaints when I opted to study him myself."

"I ... I feel like I'm being spoken about while also ignored."

"What are you studying? Ways for him to degrade himself lower than he already is? Frankly, you've already outdone yourself. He no longer qualifies as even a wyvern, but a sub-wyvern."

"There is no such thing as a sub-wyvern."

"A sub-wyvern is one whose sense of worth can only reduce once he is inevitably betrayed. How will you take responsibility for the rise in sea levels from all the tears? A bucket, perhaps?"

"To be honest, these have been a few very difficult weeks and I haven't had anyone to talk to."

"There will be no bucket. I've no intention of betraying him."

I pointed at my eyes.

"Assume they are rolling. Because if a confession could come with a tagline, that would be it. Of course you intend to betray him. It's what he would do in the exact same situation. And if he had even an inkling of wits remaining, he would instead turn to betray you first in the certain knowledge that my passing amusement is the only thing which could see him released onto an island paradise where he may scheme in peace between heating soap mixtures. A significant improvement over life as a candle."

The clockwork librarian blinked. As did the sub-wyvern.

No recriminations or defence needed to be offered. It was a point which humoured no argument.

Slowly, a newly enlightened commoner turned towards his own jailer.

"The human is, at least, brazenly upfront regarding her wickedness."

The unimpressed frown which answered was without either surprise or remorse.

"You will be punished for this," she said simply.

The sub-wyvern's maw opened to a fresh bout of flames.

The window to the abyss shut at once as indignation lashed out in flame form.

The clockwork librarian huffed as a single strand of her luminous pink hair was singed. She batted the smoke away and sent an unamused glare towards me, her hair now having been harmed beyond measure.

"I hope that was worth it," she said simply.

"It was, yes. And not just for avoiding the threat of defeating the same foe twice. After all, if I only wished to preserve my dignity, I would have ignored his existence altogether."

Her lips parted to ask the most dangerous question.

She had enough sense to clamp them shut. But not enough to stop the clockwork doll who'd slowly sneaked her way over via the tail of a dragon.

Fleur swept around at once.

It was still too late.

"[Coppelia Lead Roundhouse Spinning Back Kick Triple Hit Super Combo]!"

Bwooomph!

Hurtling faster than any fireball spat in defiance of both hygiene and the lack of a throat, a blur of a chestnut pinafore dress mixed with a dash of pink was all I saw as Coppelia sent her errant co-worker into the newest hole in a cavern wall. It was covered at once by a veil of dust and shattering stone, a crunch filling the air as the younger librarian's figure was entirely lost within the hard stone.

My mouth widened.

"Coppelia … was that my sister's technique?"

"Sure was! I've been practising it! Mostly in bakeries! It keeps me and the queue moving!"

I hopped on the spot, clapping in delight.

My, I had no idea! To think Florella's delicate stress relieving exercise routine for both mind and body was being propagated! Here was the start of something fashionable!

"An excellent choice! Why, each backwards strike of the heel was the spitting image of my sister's kindness! Your colleague now appears to be so ashamed that she's hiding inside the literal mountain!"

"Ahaha~ it was only perfect," she said with a modest wave. "But even if it was more than perfect, that's still nowhere near enough to keep Fleur in place."

I blinked.

Then, I turned to the hole with my sword raised. Yet despite the illuminating glare, nothing could be seen within the deep recess where a clockwork doll had now scarpered.

"Are you certain? Because this is a rather larger hole than those you've made yourself. And even you couldn't immediately return to spring health after such an impact … right?"

"Well, it'd definitely mean a few squeaky cogs afterwards. But Fleur is special. She's really tough. Not even bonks to the head faze her."

"... Perhaps bonks to the head are the problem if that's the reason why she's now as she is?"

"True." Coppelia raised her Scythe. "Or she could just be dumb in her own way, which is why now feels like–"

Bwoomph!

A chunk of the wall came in answer.

Expanding the hole, a veritable boulder was sent towards Coppelia, only to be cleanly cleaved by a waiting scythe in two equal halves.

A warning which went unignored.

Before the dust could decide whether it wished to rise or settle, a librarian whose pinafore dress now boasted a single wrinkle leapt with a blasé smile.

"My turn," said Fleur, pink hair and frilly hem both billowing behind as her hands came together.

Clap.

The blackened window appeared for only the briefest of moments.

It was enough to tear an emerald pommel, an embossed hilt and a gleaming blade from the abyss. A sword so radiant it formed ripples in the inky surface as it joined Starlight Grace in ushering the darkness away.

Only the shadows surrounding the scythe coming to meet her were undiminished. Yet this was a point more to the ominousness of Coppelia's weapon than a slight against the sword.

Indeed, even I had to admit it was rather fetching.

A work which surpassed even elven masterwork. Steel which gleamed like purest silver almost as much as my own. This was no sword crafted for a commoner's hands.

In fact–

It was startlingly similar to the heirloom swords of my family.

Slim yet durable. Radiant even without the magic which ringed it. Elegant but practical.

Yes.

This sword was very similar to my own.

Because as my eyes widened and nothing but a gasp left my lips, I saw a sword which had last been used to shoo away a knight by batting him in the kneecap because his compliments did not rhyme.

Its name–

Dawning Summer.

And it was chosen as the replacement for the sword now in my care.

… By Grandmother.

 

[kayenano]

A sword gleamed in the distance.

One which matched my own.

Dawning Summer.

A blade as famed as it was delicate. Said to blaze with the willpower of its wielder, it was like a blacksmith's hammer made sharp.

Chosen from amongst the few fabled weapons in the Royal Villa's vault not to be obviously cursed, it was the ceremonial sword Grandmother had opted to wield as both her badge of authority and her posture stick when those around her allowed their backs to droop.

There were few places she went without it.

After all, as terrifying as she was with a cane, not all problems could be solved with a wooden stick. Opening the letters Mother sent querying where she was and that if she did not receive a reply within 15 minutes she would assume she was dead was one of them.

Grandmother kept a pile of the letters on her person for use as napkins.

So why …

Why was her sword in Ouzelia?!

I was beyond horrified.

I came to Ouzelia expecting to find a stolen dragon. And because I was wonderful I did. Yet to find Dawning Summer as well was a gift too many.

Indeed, for Grandmother, whose sword could only be pried from her immeasurably tight grip used to injure the digits of so many foreign diplomats that they immediately conceded to her demands to avoid shaking hands with her, it could only mean one thing …

That after all this time, the worst case scenario had finally happened.

Here was definitive proof … that my grandmother, Queen Mother and former ruling monarch of the Kingdom of Tirea …

Had also visited Ouzelia.

My entire body began to shake as despair threatened to overwhelm me.

This … This was beyond my worst expectations … !

For one member of the royal family to be here was a grave misfortune …

But two?!

We would never live this one down!

Here was a blot to permanently stain the history books! How were we going to explain two catastrophes worthy of our presence? That was simply far too farfetched. Even if the world was at threat of being split like a dry macaron, it wasn't going to stop our nobility edging slightly away from us in our own soirées!

The humiliation … it would be the end of us!

"Heeheeheehee~"

Indeed … such was the gravity of the situation, Coppelia could hardly wait for the strike against her!

Made delirious by the shame we'd face if we failed to sweep this affair beneath the carpet, the shadows surrounding her scythe deepened as it readied to swing.

Yet, buoyed by the weapon she had no right to possess, her opponent neither turned nor slowed.

Fleur simply thrust Dawning Summer towards the waiting scythe. A flagrant disregard to the repair costs being invited. As wondrous as the swords of my family were, Coppelia's weapon was less a thing of war and more a concoction vomited from a demon's fantasy.

As she swung, it was with the motion of a farmer with a field to reap and a single moment to do it.

And then–

"[Spiteful Glare]."

Dawning Summer burst to life with a flash of sunlight.

The scythe hacked with enough force to decapitate a chimney. It found only the singed end of a previously pink strand of hair.

A smile of appreciation came in response, followed by the tip of a sword now wreathed in an amber hue.

Coppelia wasn't to be undone.

After all, no dazzling glare could harm her when eyes had already become accustomed to the sight of my glowing skin each and every day. She twisted away as the sword and its illegal wielder passed, then swung her scythe with enough force to cleave the trailing light as she pirouetted on the spot.

Her opponent chose not to receive it.

The librarian skipped ahead. Far enough away for the scythe to only disturb the back of her pink hair. But she didn't bother turning.

Instead, she shovelled Dawning Summer into the ground.

Earth and stone broke as easily as sand on a beach.

"[Spiteful Dust]."

Dragging the sword around with her, she sent the shards sweeping upwards. A volley of jagged daggers flung with the force of a ballista directly into Coppelia's eyes.

They broke upon the scythe, the twirling blade forming a barrier greater than any shield. Shards turned to powder as a fresh plume of dust filled the cavern. Yet when it was swept aside with a final, dismissive cleave, there was not a hint of that gleaming sword waiting before her.

"[Spiteful Gouge]."

It was now coming from above.

Coppelia used the shaft of her scythe to swipe the air above her.

It caught the sword an inch from her face. More than enough to bat aside both weapon and wielder. A flaring of a pinafore dress followed, the frills raised as Fleur neatly landed, before she immediately launched herself again towards where a scythe waited in expectation.

I was aghast.

[Spiteful Glare], [Spiteful Dust], [Spiteful Gouge] …

In her hands was a weapon which could melt winter!

Instead, she was using it to perform such underhanded attacks that even brigands loitering on the sides of the road would baulk! To strike exclusively at the eyes was a style of fighting which trampled upon even the etiquette found in bar room brawls and the bottom of sewers!

Indeed, there could be no doubt …

This … This was Grandmother's signature swordsmanship!

A style of combat so unchivalrous and unvirtuous, only those whose lifelong ambition was to survive at all costs employed it! To poke exclusively and repeatedly at the eyes was a defiance to codes of swordsmanship only former queens who no longer needed to pretend at sympathy could employ!

I was horrified.

Such a regal style of swordsmanship was being used by a librarian!

That alone was a disgrace … and yet this was more than royal appropriation!

Why, each eye gouge was evidence of Grandmother's presence! I could practically see her visage looming over this girl, her wrinkled fingers gleefully lifting the marionette beneath her!

"Ghhhrk."

And then … I heard it.

The sound of that most forbidden skill.

One which neither knight nor brigand would have any defence against. And one no clockwork librarian should be able to mimic. For never in recorded history had any member of royalty chosen to use this most black of abilities and left their opponent with their memories intact, knowing that doing so was to take a guillotine to one's pride.

"[Spiteful Spit–"

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!

"[Spring Breeze]!!"

Pwoooomph.

Hearing the phlegm being sucked into the back of Fleur's mouth, I raised Starlight Grace and swished in an act of desperation. A gust carried all the way from the kingdom about to be irrevocably besmirched came in answer alongside the sound of Coppelia forgetting her opponent.

"Wheeeeeeee~"

Smiling in joy, Coppelia sunk her scythe into the ground, her hair fluttering like a golden flag behind her as she anchored herself in place.

The other clockwork doll was less appreciative.

Rather than enjoying the forgotten breeze beneath the heart of this mountain, she clenched her teeth as an altogether new expression graced her face.

"Hnnnnnnnnnngghhhhhh!"

Centering her weight, she deemed it appropriate to finally drop to her knees, hugging the sword in her grip as she continually slid away.

When she looked up again, it was with eyes hidden behind a layer of frayed pink hair.

She blew a tuft away from her brows and squinted at me.

"Hm. I wondered how Coppelia was able to pass my oracle without losing an arm. You are no heroine, but I see you match them in being a nuisance."

"I am a guest," I declared, knowing she'd forgotten. "It is my role to be a nuisance. Just as it is yours to answer my every unreasonable demand. Your shins should be aching from the kowtowing required to make me dismiss you."

The librarian stood up. Her poor impression only continued to drop.

"As a servant of the Hidden Library, my devout examples of subservience are reserved exclusively for my master. All the more so when he resumes his place atop a mountain of gold coloured respect carved from all the treasuries of the world."

My mouth widened at once.

"Excuse me? Can you say that once more? But without including the world in there?"

"I don't see why you're surprised. I've already explained my objective."

"Yes, and it's as unworkable as a bowl of unshelled pistachios. But I at least assumed any plotting was to be kept to your own well defined borders. Do you mean to say this ancient dragon is to acquire treasure by laying waste to the fair pastures beyond this absurd realm?"

"Well, not in so many words. But yes."

I didn't bother hiding my groan.

Here I thought this was just a ridiculous scheme to drag a dragon out of bed! But it's actually less than that! It's simply a ridiculous scheme! Period!

"Unacceptable." I pointed to the ground. Repeatedly. "Do you see this? This is yours. Ouzelia exists for a reason. That is to keep the worst of world ending plots contained. You've no right to bring so much as an earthworm outside, much less a dragon. Why would you drag the rest of us into this?"

"For the simple reason that all the wealth in Ouzelia is already being sat upon by other dragons. And their displeasure should only be invited at the end of the tale, not the beginning."

The clockwork librarian idly swished Dawning Summer around her like a conductor with a stick.

"Lissoine, Weinstadt, the Summer Kingdoms … so many lesser realms, yet all filled with wealth and no dragons to defend them. With a single sweep of his wings, my master will carve out a hoard great enough to fund the library's new acquisitions and staffing costs for at least another two centuries. And not a single one of our neighbours will have cause for complaint."

I stepped back, horrified at the insinuation. The grip around my sword tightened.

"H-How dare you! You would seek to use this dragon to plunder my homeland over your own! … However, know that we need no dragon to defend our wealth! The valour of our knights and the high pitched screaming of our peasants will be enough to stave off even the greatest of–"

"No, your kingdom is safe."

"Excuse me?"

"You said you were from Tirea?"

"... Yes?"

The clockwork librarian's smile wilted. Her eyes clouded over in sympathy.

"Oh. Well, you can rest assured I've no intention of goading my master into pillage your kingdom. It seems needlessly cruel. At most, he'll fly over it on the way to Weinstadt."

I blinked.

And then–

"H-How dare you not seek to plunder my kingdom! It is a place of breathtaking riches and unclaimed treasures the likes of which have never been known!"

"Yes, well, once they are known, I'll be sure to consider seizing them. But until then, I really cannot in good conscience rob you of what few sticks you have."

"Sticks?!" I jabbed my sword towards her. My gleaming, shimmering, enchanted sword. "Does the permanent shine from my kingdom's artifacts blind you?! … Look, look right here! Exhibit A! Starlight Grace, a fabled sword wreathed in magic and history!"

Then, I pointed towards the other sword.

"Exhibit B! Another fabled sword wreathed in magic and history!"

Fleur lifted Dawning Summer, tapping her head with the flat of the blade.

"... Oh, this thing is from Tirea? I had no idea. I've been using it as a scalp massager."

I smiled.

My, how unexpectedly wonderful.

Clarise would soon have her own clockwork doll to inspect and Coppelia was saved from several sleepless nights of locking her windows and double nailing down her floorboards.

Everyone was happy.

And I would be as well, once I'd woken up to see my bedroom ceiling.

"Yes, that thing is a treasured artifact of my kingdom. And I assure you it is worth more than all the riches you could pillage all bundled together … how, then, did you come to steal it?"

"That's an awful accusation to make, given the hospitality I've offered."

"The only hospitality I require is your prostration, the return of that sword and your creaking cogs as you help move this gold as compensation for my lost time including now."

I thought for a moment.

"... Also, I should inquire about the wrinkled old lady you callously robbed."

The librarian raised an eyebrow.

"If you must know, I didn't rob anyone. This sword was given to me as payment."

"Payment? Payment for what? Your jests?"

"This is no jest. I was alerted to a disturbance in the specially designated reserve outside the library. Upon investigation, I found an elderly human woman felling vast quantities of our treants. I initially assumed she was illegally logging, but soon discovered she was actually searching for a suitable wood grain to use for a new cane."

I covered my eyes with an arm and groaned.

A hand wasn't enough. Not for this.

To trespass into another realm was one thing … but to brazenly cut down their murderous treants?

Why, if Grandmother wanted a cane fashioned exclusively from their enchanted branches, she needed at least a thin veneer of plausible deniability first!

She should have ordered one of the squires to do it for her! Menial and highly dangerous labour in the guise of a chivalric quest is what they were there for!

"I … I see … and did she find a suitable wood grain, at least?"

"No," stated Fleur simply. "The forest is protected. The treants' habitat doubly so. I requested she depart after paying restitution. As she had no funds, she opted to part with her sword instead."

She paused.

"... She was quite indifferent about it."

Grandmother?!

What were you doing?!

 

[kayenano]

Despite my arm leaving my eyes, all I saw was darkness.

Grandmother did what Grandmother did. And that was whatever she wished, whenever she wished.

As was her right, of course.

When people spoke about her, they didn't refer to her by name. They simply sniffled and a tear dropped down. Having endured a life of instilling grey hairs upon everyone younger than her, it was only appropriate she'd do more than retire to her chamber where a servant was still tearfully holding up a tea pot she said she'd return to once it'd sufficiently cooled.

That was eight months ago.

An admittedly long brewing time, yes … but to traverse the corners of the world while her darjeeling matured to the point of tar was only fitting for one so accomplished. To see and hear first hand how her legacy was viewed across the continent was as much her right as it was her obligation.

Naturally, I held only the deepest affections for her.

Aside from the fact she was family, she was also the previous owner of Starlight Grace. Because for all her many accomplishments, her ability to safeguard that which every giant magpie and roadside hooligan wished to pilfer was one of her greatest.

… Or so I thought.

I groaned as I viewed the inglorious fate of my sword's successor.

It'd practically been bartered … and without any haggling, by the sounds of it!

On one hand, to be so utterly dismissive towards the treasured artifacts of our kingdom was certainly a high mark regarding her royal standing … yet on the other, some things couldn't be simply tossed away like apple cores for fruit slimes!

Not a lot, yes … but our heirloom swords were certainly one of them!

"Excuse me," I said once my groan had subsided. "Are you telling me that this wrinkled old lady of no relation to me paid for lumps of bark … with a fabled artifact of my kingdom?"

The clockwork librarian raised a brow.

The beginnings of a frown did nothing but clash with her vibrantly pink hair.

"Those lumps of bark served as both guardians and tourist attractions. The first treants were gifted a thousand years ago to my master by the elves in recognition of his strength. They help shepherd the forest, keeping the golden leaves captured forever in keeping with the splendour of the Autumn Court."

"So they make for passable tea tables. This is clearly an unfair trade. An enchanted sword is not suitable payment for furniture. This is sheer robbery."

"I assure you, it's the other way around. The treants demanded nothing less than copious amounts of blood to help nourish the soil. To accept only a sword is a travesty."

"In that case, you'll need to offer your gratitude as well as all previously mentioned. If your forest had absorbed a drop of that woman's blood, it would have become a wasteland as wrinkled as her forehead, to say nothing of your own after having spent enough time on the ground."

I lifted Starlight Grace, silencing the reply to come.

"My apologies, but as much as I enjoy critiquing a performance to the end, I lack both the patience and the rotting fruit. Know, however, that I am thoroughly unmoved with what Ouzelia has to offer."

There was no shifting in posture from the librarian before me.

Even so, the eyes narrowing towards my sword spoke more than any stiffening of shoulders could.

"... Ouzelia has nothing to offer its critics," she replied, her tone shorn of the expected remorse. "Or to outsiders. Whatever your accomplishments to date, they are irrelevant. You possess no tale in this place."

"Excellent. Because other than a burgeoning cult in my name, I intend to come and go as the breeze. Yes, even if that is a slow trotting pace. I have places to be. And all of them involve comparing the softness of my cheeks against the pile of imported cushions waiting to be judged by me."

Fleur raised her stolen sword in a pose I'd seen often.

Copied from the stances of knights as they readied themselves to lunge towards their foes, it was a strike so telegraphed that I knew to expect nothing short of a projectile sneeze directly into my face.

"I can hurry you away, if you'd like," she said lightly. "You should know that I can already do more than mirror the techniques that intriguing human displayed. I am able to better them."

I rolled my eyes as required.

"Please. To claim you can impersonate how that woman abuses heirloom artifacts is one thing. But to even dream you can replicate her guile is the most insulting thing you've said. A lack of chivalry is not something you can copy. It is something you are."

A smile answered me.

"I am an exceptional learner."

And then–

The clockwork librarian twisted around, easily meeting the swing of the scythe towards her back.

Her hand reached up and caught the falling shaft, holding it in place. But there was no note of triumph. Only a knitted brow as she immediately turned her eyes to me, sword raised to bat away the paired strike which Coppelia's distraction demanded. A low blow as predictable as it was destined to be swatted aside along with an innocently whistling princess.

No such attack came.

Starlight Grace remained firmly in my hand … but not the fistful of gold scooped from a nearby hoard.

"... [Princess Throw]!"

Eyes instantly widened in bewilderment.

After all, this was hardly a rotten fruit leaving my palm. And yet for defeating someone who possessed only a smidgeon of my grandmother's guile, it was more than appropriate.

Dawning Summer rose at once to swipe the coins away.

Already, the eyes behind the sword were upon my next action. For as talented as I was in hurling small objects, to a clockwork doll whose reactions were matched only by another, here was an attack which was less a minor inconvenience and more a desperate distraction.

Thus, a stolen sword swept through the air.

And then … did absolutely nothing as the hand which held it froze alongside a stupefied expression.

Ohohohohoho!

Here it was! An attack so unchivalrous it permitted no defence!

Indeed, for my sword to clash against another belonging to my family was utterly unthinkable. Not only was it highly inappropriate, but the amount of damage would be inexcusable.

Fortunately, I had no need to use Starlight Grace as a shield.

Not when basic avarice was far more reliable.

The folly of amateur and seasoned schemers alike. They would see gold traded, wasted and covered in blood. But they would sooner send a blade through their own back than what they connived to gather.

The result–a single moment of hesitation.

It was more than enough. The librarian winced as a smattering of coins was clumsily met by the back of her hand. A grievous error. And one she realised even before the first coins clinked to the ground.

She turned. And then saw that in her other hand, only she was contesting Coppelia's scythe.

My loyal handmaiden was busy wearing a telltale smile. A thing almost as ominous as the fingertip she reached out.

"[Coppelia Flick]!"

Ping.

An expression of grief was all her victim could manage as the large golden key protruding from her back suddenly turned … over and over again.

Like a windmill met by a sudden gale, it blurred as it rotated. A distinct whirring noise filled the air which I'd only ever heard from Clarise's observatory.

I was aghast.

"Coppelia! Did you just consign your colleague to explode? … Because she hasn't written a confession yet!"

"Ahaha~ don't worry, she's not going to explode." Coppelia casually stepped away and waited. "... Yup, definitely not going to explode! That only happens when you spin our keys wrong."

"I wasn't aware there was an option other than wrong."

I peered between Fleur and the least rocky piece of ground to lay down on.

While not quite exploding, she clearly wore an expression which indicated she wished to.

"Our keys are highly delicate instruments," she answered, her voice more or less a single sigh as her key slowly winded down into individual clicks. "They serve as a vital cog to ensure our continued ability to function. But they carry instructions as well, each twist and turn precisely calibrated to result in a specific prompt which disregards our standard limitations."

"I see … and what happens when it's violently spun like my horse's mane after a light drizzle in the rain?"

"I currently have 18,268 instructions queued, most of which are to immediately clean the romance bookshelves."

I gasped at the unexpected revelation.

"A-Amazing! To think that tailored housekeeping is a predetermined command! Is there a specific way to wind your key to pour a pristine chamomile tea?"

"Don't be silly." Coppelia idly waved my query away. "There's no way something like that would–"

"1 turn 43 degrees clockwise. 2 turns 27 degrees counterclockwise. 1 turn mmffffngh–"

"Ahahaha~" Coppelia wrapped her hand around her colleague's mouth, all the while swatting at her golden key until it was once again spinning to an invisible gust. "Oh boy, looks like someone needs their repairs! An unrefusable command to pour perfect tea? What a weird and super annoying thing that'd be!"

I rushed forwards at once, planting my hands upon the gagged librarian's shoulders.

"T-Tell me the rest!" I demanded while shaking her furiously. "Tell me and I shall grant you asylum in my kingdom! All your crimes will be pardoned! I … I will even raise you to nobility! What is the secret?! How do I direct Coppelia to pour tea on my every whim?!"

I paused to allow a response.

For a moment, Fleur stood utterly still, indignation written on every inch of her face.

Fuoomph.

It was likely still there when she flopped down.

Like a salmon surrendering itself to my dinner plate, she crashed heavily to the ground. Dawning Summer was freed from her grip as plumes of fresh dust marked her silhouette for all to admire when the Cult of Juliette came to requisition this mountain as its official headquarters.

"Aaaand that's what happens when you have too many instructions," explained Coppelia brightly.

A huff of indignation came in response, muffled by the ground.

"This is unseemly," said the unmoving librarian, earning no argument from me. "Neither of you have cause to hinder me. This is for the financial safeguarding of the Hidden Library. Something the Kingdom of Tirea stands to benefit greatly from as well."

"My kingdom has no need for a maddened dragon to assist it. It is enough to have those who understand the difference between loyalty and gall. If you're fortunate, perhaps you might find a dictionary now that you're consigned to cleaning shelves for the foreseeable future."

I could almost hear the nose wrinkling.

"The shelves do not need cleaning."

"Then I suggest you see to it with vigour. It is a worthy cause, and far more generous than you deserve. I shall be frank. You are a severe downgrade from the horrors I've had to endure. Not only is your scheme middling, but you've neither a sister's robes nor a lich's public nudity to threaten my vomit. You make for a highly underwhelming final act."

The back of a head quivered.

After significant effort, Fleur just about turned her face to reveal the corner of a smile.

"... Yes, I suppose that much is true."

Clink.

Suddenly, a gold crown rolled to a stop before me.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Then another. And another.

Coins glinted as they came forth like a gentle wave, prodding the back of my boots and Coppelia's waiting palms.

At first.

Pwiiissshhh.

Because a moment later, the gold tumbled down as fast as Coppelia and I could inventory it for official purposes and absolutely nothing else.

The sound of shifting coins began to reverberate like the dancing of forest leaves. But this was no mysterious breeze causing the hum against my ears.

No … it was an enormous tail wreathed in emerald scales as it slowly came alive.

"A curious thing, isn't it?" came a musing voice from the floor. "To dragons, the sound of battle is but a note in a lullaby they have long grown accustomed to. But to hear a single coin rolling away from their hoard is a screech which haunts their dreams."

The movement ceased, as shortly as it began.

Silence reverberated throughout the cavern.

And then–

A lidded eye slowly opened, revealing a black slit nestled amidst a pond of shining jade.

A dazzling sight. All the more so when the green caught the reflection of the golden hoard underneath.

The image was so clear that I could count the individual coins. And then they were lost as the colours merged. One ebbing while the other flowed. The jade diminished like spring leaves caught by autumn's grasp. And what had glimmered on its own account now shone with the telltale hue of greed.

A golden eye blinked.

The next moment–all the world shook.

For a dragon had woken from its slumber.

 

[kayenano]

Dragons.

There was little which needed to be said. Even those who had never known the terror of a badger nibbling upon a purple azalea knew the tale of dragons.

Where liches and receptionists fought to climb higher upon the ladder of children's nightmares, they did so only as paupers elbowing each other over rungs which dragons had long soared over. They were kings of earth and sky, residing not upon the world, but over it.

And here was one so regal it could only be woken by a princess's gentle presence.

Like a mountain of emeralds given life, the dragon slowly shifted. A waterfall of coins cascaded down its enormous form, the odd few becoming stuck between its scales.

Golden eyes, half-lidded and drowsy, gazed without focus at the modest hoard serving as a bed.

Its response was the same as mine. A wrinkling of the nose. Except this one came with a cloud of smoke. As its nostrils flared, twin plumes able to warm the temperature of the cavern rushed out, darkening what little sky could be gleaned from the fissure high above.

A moment later–it turned its head.

Cheeks as hard as bedrock and horns more pointed than any lance came to rest against the bed of gold. Yet any hope this was a pillow to help it return to slumber was lost.

Even as its head rested, its eyes did not.

The haze lessened. The slit of its pupils narrowing as the starch began to fade. And a gaze filled with a familiar greed began to count each and every coin.

Indeed … I knew this look well.

After all, there was only one thing which could surpass even a dragon's greed. And that was the hubris of every dignitary to have laid eyes upon my father's throne.

I preferred none of them.

Thus, I turned to Coppelia and nodded.

"Very well. We have a dragon."

"We sure do~! Look, isn't he nice and cuddly? And by nice and cuddly, I mean huge and spiky."

"He'll certainly require one of the larger tea tables, yes."

"You can probably give him any. I think he's in a good mood. Normally, he'd have yelled at us and demanded pancakes for waking him up already. Isn't this wonderful?"

A fresh plume of smoke billowed from the corners of the dragon's maw. A telltale sign of someone so averse to being woken that no words of complaint could suffice.

I sympathised. But even that went only so far.

"What is wonderful would be a greeting," I said with a rueful shake of my head. "For a dragon to be so mesmerised by gold that neither thought nor gift is spared to a visitor harks to the days they rained terror and destruction upon the continent, sending all life fleeing before them."

Coppelia nodded.

After a moment, she remembered to turn off her smile as well.

"And that is bad." Coppelia paused, waiting in case I had to correct her. "Very, very bad."

"Indeed, it would be terrible. The hedgehogs would have free reign to multiply with abandon."

"That's exactly what I meant. If all human towns and the smells they constantly make were erased, the rest of us would be overwhelmed with the scent of fresh flowers and happiness."

"Happiness is already prevalent throughout my kingdom. It is mandatory while my subjects are shielded by the warmth of my family. We do not require competition from a dragon's flame."

Coppelia leaned down and poked at her fallen colleague.

One whose final test was failed by the lack of any gloating.

Instead, she was taking the place of the previously sleeping dragon, her idle smile galling but insufficient as she closed her eyes to the world's dissatisfaction. Only the key on her back moved, the individual clicks now discernible as the turns slowed.

"You'll need to ask Fleur once she exits emergency napping mode. Which you should hope is soon. I'm actually not too sure what the big guy will do now, since she was the one with the reins and all."

"If she had the means to goad this dragon into doing whatever she wished, then surely you do as well?"

"Eeehh … I dunno, she was always his favourite. Maybe because she did small things like all the finances, the scheduling, the management and the pancake restocking. I don't think I'm getting through. Not with this goldlust. That's a pretty serious thing."

"I see … is it a disease, then?"

"Nope. A disease can be cured. This is worse. You know how peasants like drowning themselves in alcohol to distract themselves from their worthless and miserable existences? Goldlust is like that. Except they collect treasure instead of alcohol, they're a lot less picky about which places they embarrass themselves in and after they pass out, they're out for two centuries."

I nodded at the grim sight.

Indeed, I saw it far too easily.

A dragon sated, asleep, and thoroughly clogging up room within the Royal Villa's vault.

There were practical applications to possessing a sleeping dragon, of course–stewards accidentally leading our nobility down several wrong hallways while also accidentally locking all the doors behind them being one of them. But not at the cost of our wealth being used as a mattress.

Why, that'd simply be awful. What would my troll do? It'd be a professional insult to make him guard what a dragon already was.

"No worries, though~" said Coppelia, uttering the only words to make me worry. "I can fix this!"

Thus … she lifted up her scythe.

I was horrified.

"Excuse me! You surely cannot mean to murder your employer? That is not a precedent I wish to set!"

"Eh? I'm not going to murder him! I'm just going to hit him really hard!"

"... That isn't trying to murder him?!"

"Ahaha~ don't worry. There's no way that's anything more than a tickle. And for the big guy, it'll be aimed right above his brows. One scratch there and it's back to snoozing!"

"Coppelia, this is a dragon, not a cat."

"... Would you prefer it if this was a cat?"

I thought for a moment.

"No," I admitted.

Coppelia gave an unabashed giggle.

Then, she raised her arms and stretched, before promptly bounding away with graceful ease.

Paying as little care to mortal danger as she did bakery signs not to touch the products, she leapt fearlessly like a moth to a flame.

Higher and higher she went, her lithe form going unseen against the commanding presence of the dragon as it exited the realm of dreams. And then with an unnecessary twist in the air, she came down with her scythe held high above her in a tickle which looked remarkably like a normal attack.

"Dusk falls anew, the last light amidst paling faith. Luna Form, 6th​ Stance ... [Moonlit Divider]."

So normal, in fact, that only a falling piano offered a harsher entry back into the world of slumber.

Her scythe cleaved the air, leaving behind a trail of light to defy the same shadows which wreathed it. A sight usually guaranteeing that something which existed now wouldn't in a few moments.

Instead–

Plink.

An unscathed dragon was the result.

Her scythe struck with all the force of a toothpick against a boulder, comically bouncing off the scales at the crown of its head. However, that didn't mean there was no effect.

The golden eyes blinked.

Once, twice, three times … until finally the lids began to close once again.

I was stunned. As was Coppelia.

"Huh," she said while idly hanging off the tip of a horn. "I wasn't expecting that to happen."

"... Does that mean it actually worked?"

"Maybe. And that's a problem."

"Why is that a problem?"

"Because these things never work."

A sudden inhalation of breath from the dragon confirmed her well-founded fears.

All at once, a wave of gold crowns rushed towards its snout. The eyes which had begun to close remained half-lidded. And cheeks which had no means to form expressions nevertheless grew taut, the wrinkles becoming apparent even through the scales.

And then … an altogether different crease appeared upon its face.

One I'd seen often. Most keenly by the Holy Church's highest representative as he was led through the Royal Villa's expansive gardens, all of us having forgotten about his debilitating pollen allergy. Again.

This … This dragon.

Why, it was about to do something unfathomable!

… And the direction it faced was where a princess stood and a fallen librarian now lay!

Horrified at what was to come, I turned at once towards the helpless figure beside me.

Without thought, I moved at once.

My limbs obeyed naught but instinct as I hurriedly leaned down, reached out towards the defenceless girl, and with no regard to my own safety, bravely grabbed Dawning Summer and scampered away.

"Hm … hmmmpph!"

The flame which was unleashed was like the heart of a volcano bursting asunder.

A sudden belt of molten lava erupted from the dragon's maw, joined by a plume of smoke blacker than tar as it charred the very air. But this was no mage's replica. It was a force unrestrained, able to melt the coldest steel along with the anvil which forged it.

And now it was billowing towards me like a streaking comet.

The temperature rose as though an open kiln had been dropped into a cupboard. Yet for all the light which now filled the cavern, all I saw was the blackness of death. A premonition written in every tale to involve a dragon's flame.

To be struck by dragonfire was to enjoy a brief cremation without ceremony.

That was poor enough. But this was somehow worse.

This … This was a sneeze!

Not even a stream of flame sent out in anger … but an allergic reaction to Coppelia!

To die to a dragon in righteous combat was at least inoffensive. But to die to a dragon due to it being tickled behind the ears? Why, that was so humiliating my ghost would never find rest amidst all the laughter!

No. I refused to contemplate it.

Dragon or not, my end would come at a time and place of my choosing. And my schedule was currently so filled I didn't need to look at it. Every action I took ticked something off.

All except death because a dragon didn't use a handkerchief.

Thus, raising Starlight Grace, I …

Fwooooooooooooosh.

… looked to the side as Dawning Summer promptly caught fire in my other hand.

"Wha–?!"

To my utter shock, what was a summer's glow now became a living brand.

One which drew all the molten snot towards it like rain towards a gutter.

Alight with the fury of a hearthfire doused with kindling and lamp oil, the sword bloomed as the dragonfire was absorbed … no, devoured.

Ribbons lashed the air as though cast forth from a whip, while embers dripped from the tip like a thousand fireflies.

A sight so beautiful and mesmerising, I could do nothing but immediately toss Grandmother's sword to the ground, before promptly kicking dirt over it in order to smother the sudden flames.

It … It was terrifying!

"S-Stop! Stop at once!" I told the sword, increasing the pace of my shovelling. "Stop! You are only to burst into flames on demand! And only at a level which doesn't overshadow my own brightness!"

Far from obeying its new owner, the sword only continued to merrily burn. A flame so wildly impractical even the hilt was now entirely wreathed.

That, as it turned out, was the least of my problems.

"Hrrhmmmmmmm."

Smoke and flames exited the dragon's snout once more. Except this time, it wasn't to signal another sneeze.

Our dragon was now very much awake.

Bwoomph. Bwooomph.

The sound of drums filled the cavern.

One by one, clawed legs wide enough to turn a hill giant into its own artisanal purée lifted from its bed, then slammed back into the gold.

Like a princess sampling a new bath mat, the dragon's great legs languidly tested the fine texture and the cooling metal.

Coppelia finally swung away as the dragon rose.

Higher and higher it went. A visage of regal power wrapped in the displeasure of one who was clearly not an early riser. As the dragon presented itself upon its hind legs, not a single missing scale was there to be exploited. And yet for all its majesty, it was still besmirched by a great blemish.

Those eyes doused in the foreign colour of gold, clashing with the green of its birth.

"GWWAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR."

It roared.

A bellow so visceral, so primal it shook through the arms covering my ears.

The ground itself quaked along with my limbs as the world threatened to end. Dust and bits of stone came falling down. And also Coppelia as she landed beside me, enthusiastic smile at the ready.

"Safe~" She turned to me and nodded. "... Okay! You get to decide! How do you want to be carried?"

I gingerly released my ears, still hearing the bellowing.

"Excuse me?"

"Over my shoulder or under my arm? You get to pick how you want to escape the giant fireball by the big grumpy dragon when he notices us in about five seconds."

My mouth widened.

"C-Coppelia! … There are more appropriate ways to carry me than either as a rug or as a sack!"

"... Like as a fruit slime? Because that's less carrying and more throwing and catching you as I go."

An appalling suggestion … and not because experiencing that at least once sounded the slightest bit intriguing.

"There will be no need to carry me," I declared, turning my frown towards the dragon as its tail scooped up a line of glittering coins. "We are not escaping."

"Now that's just pessimistic. We're really good at escaping explosions."

"Yes … Yes we are. But that's beside the point. I do not mean to escape from this dragon. Not if it means seeing him again along with my mother asking why I seem to know him. I intend to put this entire Ouzelia debacle behind me. Not punt it down the road."

"GWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR."

A second bellow filled the cavern.

No … not just a bellow, but a yawn.

Accompanied by a stretching of wings, they swept outwards like a pair of windmills. The shadows were even greater. An endless mural of darkness painted upon the cavern wall behind by the light of two swords.

One of which I was still trying to put out.

For a moment, even my loyal handmaiden could only blink at me.

However, any doubts she harboured were given no leave to fester. Nothing could break the strength of my noble intentions. And even less my wish to avoid association with this land of oddballs at all costs.

Thus, she nodded … then offered all her assistance by sitting atop her fallen colleague.

"Wooooooooooooooo!!" Coppelia raised an arm in cheer. "It's time! The next stage of [Ball Of Doom]!"

"E-Excuse me! Please do not spread that name unnecessarily! It is not [Ball Of Doom]! It is a delicate gardening technique! … Furthermore, I am still in the process of refining the current iterations …"

"No problem! Cheap and underhanded is also good!"

"A slanderous insinuation. I am as fair and honourable as the kingdom I represent. And so long as your apple strudels are funded directly from our personal funds, that is the official line."

"Got it~ how do you plan on fairly beating the really big dragon, then?"

I looked up at the dragon in question.

It didn't take a forum of sages to know that there was only one answer–I didn't.

After all, if a princess could simply defeat a dragon, I wouldn't count them as my natural foes.

However … that didn't mean I had no contingencies in place.

On the contrary, it was precisely because I was a princess that I was uniquely suited to the task ahead.

Knights may have lances and heroes outrageous amounts of luck. But I had a weapon greater than both.

Not for slaying dragons. But for surviving them.

"I've no means of felling this dragon. But I've no need to. It is time to perform Emergency Dragon Protocol #57."

Coppelia nodded with excitement, fists tightly scrunched against her chest.

"Ooooh~ I never knew there were contingencies for facing a dragon which wasn't running away faster than the guy next to you!"

"There isn't. For commoners, at least." I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. "Ohohoho … rejoice, Coppelia. And observe. For you shall now see a sight to burn into your memories brighter than any dragon flame. Note what you shall see, but never speak of it again."

"Okie~"

I nodded … and then took a deep breath.

Yes, it was time at last to display my true qualities as a princess.

Thus, I patted myself down, then left the cheering of my audience behind as I strolled towards the disgruntled behemoth of death.

An action so without precedent that the dragon shook away its waking temper to at last see the fragile maiden in its midst.

Within those maddened eyes, the black slits widened with all the right of one appalled at the impertinence of an open thief.

"GWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR."

Except I was no such thing.

I was an honoured guest.

And so I ignored the bellowing, trained as I was by the echoes in the Royal Villa whenever my father stubbed his toe against a door. I ignored the embers dribbling from the jaws, accustomed to the flames regularly seen exiting Clarise's observatory. And I ignored the gaze of unremitting death, seeing only a pale imitation of my etiquette tutor when she found me admiring the vines beneath a window.

The dragon was unimpressed.

A neck stretched out as its entire frame lowered.

The rows of guillotine teeth were revealed, each capable of grinding a chimney until it was indistinguishable from the soot it bore. Within its maw, an endless darkness was punctuated only by the heart of a flame so ancient it could melt the Summer Fae.

And against it all, I lifted Starlight Grace … then idly sheathed it away.

I offered a polite smile instead.

"Salutations," I said with a nod, knees slightly bent, lifting the very hem of my skirt in a perfectly angled curtsy. "I am Princess Juliette Contzen, 5th in line to the Kingdom of Tirea. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

The dragon stilled.

The smoke exiting its orifices didn't lessen. But the shadows behind its wings did.

A moment later … it blinked.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Except this time, it wasn't the allure of gold it saw.

No … it was something far rarer, beyond the worth of any trove or the beauty of any trinket. Something which shone brighter than the lustre of any coin or jewel.

A candle in the darkness, washing away the delirium of greed.

… Me.

Ohhohohohoho!

Here it was! My ultimate ability!

[Princess Presence]!

Indeed … I did not need my healing fingertip for this!

All I required was my own aura … a light so warm and gentle, that a fourth blink later, neither curse nor madness could hold sway!

Like the first breath after a deep plunge, the dragon shuddered, sending not the tremor of a quake, but a song as calming as a summer draft through the air.

The shadows rescinded. The veil of avarice was lifted from its eyes.

And what remained was as smooth as the finest jade.

After all–

Gold spoke to its greed. Yet I spoke to its heart.

A princess without equal, even in the realm of fairy tales.

Thus … the dragon promptly reached out and wrapped a claw around me.

I nodded and smiled.

Yes.

This was indeed better.