- Location
- Argentina
One would think they would have a way to locate the dragon themselves; as magic libraries go I can't give it more that a 6/10.
The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer
- Thread starter kayenano
- Start date
- Original
Chapter 290: Golden Welcome
Apple snorted as he trotted along a narrow path hidden amidst the creeping foliage.
One as gold as the canopy of leaves rustling overhead.
It was a quaint sight. Although the autumns of my kingdom were splendid and fair, the length of time that the golden leaves of my forests could be indulged in was all too brief. Not here.
Beyond the doors of a library blessed by the magic of a missing dragon, autumn came during spring.
All around me, golden oaks stretched from one end of this enchanted forest to another, with little indication as to where one ended and one began. Beneath dangling branches larger than chimneys, gnarled roots coiled across what little could be seen of a path requiring as much Apple's disregard for obstacles as Coppelia's humming guidance.
Glancing up, I admired the leaves as wide as spades billowing to a gentle breeze, their soft outline lit by the midday gleam.
And then I saw a pair of deeply weathered eyes blinking at me from the bark.
The tree groaned, its heavy branches dipping downwards in a rumbling greeting.
I smiled as I offered a polite nod.
And then I directed my gaze ahead. That's where it stayed.
"How curious," I said, as I leaned forwards to shoo Apple away from the offered leaves. "Had I known your forests were not permanently on fire, I would have viewed Ouzelia in a more favourable light."
Coppelia only looked amused.
Enjoying her role as our guide through this narrow trail, she skipped across roots like stepping stones in a river. Weaving between the foliage, her golden hair was occasionally lost amidst the leaves before she reappeared on yet another root.
Apple, no less graceful, barrelled over everything.
"That's because you're in the nice part of the forest. It's the rough part you're thinking about."
"... Really?"
"No." Coppelia flicked at a spiky branch. It retreated like a cowed puppy. "It'd probably make a great tourist attraction. But none of our forests are permanently on fire … usually."
I glanced through the forest.
No smoke. But the familiar rustling ensured I couldn't allow my guard to falter. I wasn't quite certain what hedgehogs in Ouzelia ate. But given the abundance of leafy foliage, a princess must surely count as an exotic delicacy.
"I've little idea why you have tourist attractions in the first place. Is your library not supposed to be hidden? It seems very half-hearted about its secrecy."
"Well, I think it used to be completely secret. But then obviously nobody visited. So the big guy opened it up to mysterious bearded archmages with big hats, saying they could visit in exchange for another book as an entry fee."
"I see. That sounds appropriate."
"Yup, that worked great! Except that there aren't a lot of mysterious bearded archmages with big hats and since they can conjure their own food, they'll pretty much stay until they've gone through everything. Like a caterpillar."
"Please, Coppelia. You cannot compare mysterious bearded archmages with big hats to caterpillars. One wields the power of destruction, the other is a professional disappointment."
"I bet the ones you met had tiny hats."
"Worse than that, most didn't even have beards." I wrinkled my nose as the memories failed to disperse. "Peddlers and charlatans. The louder their claims, the quieter their usefulness."
"Really? What did you get them to do?"
"Only the most trivial of trials. None of which has ever been passed. Frankly, if a self-proclaimed archmage cannot conjure the sugar cubes out of the Granholtz ambassador's teacup while he continually tries to throw more in, then they lack the right to stand beside my parents."
"Hmmmm … I think magical henchmen are usually used for other stuff. Like defending against assassins."
"A task my knights perform with distinction. Especially as they wouldn't spend every waking moment poring through the tomes of our library … including those so forbidden they simply refuse to combust despite being made of parchment and regret."
Coppelia giggled.
For now.
Once she was at the Royal Villa, I'd immediately request her help with spring cleaning. And that included works of poetry so avant garde that even I failed to understand what I'd written.
"Mmh~ I suppose that'd be a problem. It is with ours. They get so much reading done on one book donation, the big guy started charging them gold instead."
"A prudent measure."
"Yup! … Except most archmages are actually dirt poor. Probably because royalty don't hire them since they can't conjure sugar out of teacups."
"I hardly see why their lack of employable skills is our fault. Besides, if they wish to avoid poverty, they can just sell whatever enchanted staffs and priceless trinkets they have on hand."
"Sure. Except it turns out it's reaaaally hard to get change for enchanted staffs and priceless trinkets. Most merchants wouldn't have enough coins on hand even if they sold their house."
"Well, I fail to see why this dragon of yours needs coins in the first place. Does he not have an infinite supply to pay his staff by virtue of being a dragon?"
"I'm sure he does. Did. Once. Before he spent it all on books and stuff."
I idly tapped on Apple's reins. He snorted on my behalf.
"... Coppelia, is this dragon of yours poor?"
"Ahahaha~ don't be silly. Would a poor dragon have an amazing library filled with the rarest books?"
Coppelia paused.
She quickly looked around her, then leaned in with her hand shielding her lips.
"He's really bad with money!" she whispered at exactly the same volume. "Even though he's a dragon, I'm pretty sure he spent all his hoard! Now I'm constantly being told we might need to eat beans for a month while we get out of the red!"
I gave a tiny groan.
A poor dragon was like a poor princess. Why even live if one wasn't wealthy enough to be continually hounded by suiters and robbers alike?
"It isn't so bad, though," added Coppelia, her judgement clearly clouded by her long suffering. "Fleur is good at handling finances. That's what the gift shop and the tourist attractions are for!"
"... To scrounge for coins like common merchants?"
"Exactly! Speaking of which, do you want to visit a cursed waterfall? Only 1 silver crown and you get to see your finger becoming all wrinkly and gross for a bit."
"Thank you, but no. If you wish for my healing poke to bless a cursed waterfall, you shall need to remunerate me properly for the service."
Coppelia nodded at once.
Then, she hopped off the log she was balancing on and lifted it up. Cheeks puffed up in disappointment was soon to follow.
I didn't know what to be more aggrieved by. That she thought she could pay me off with coins found in the dirt, or that if all else failed, I couldn't refill the Royal Treasury by exporting the badgers from my orchard to till the soil.
"No worries!" said Coppelia, pretending as if she didn't possess a single coin of her own. "There are free attractions too! How about a lucky giant statue that looks like a fruit slime?"
"Certainly–as long as it's in Witschblume."
"Their lucky giant statues aren't as good as ours."
"Then I suppose I'll need to make do. Just as I am by requisitioning the services of a heroine instead of a compass. Would you happen to know where this individual can be found?"
Coppelia casually booted a small boulder off the trail. It rolled several metres, before scuttling the rest of the way into the forest, hissing as it went.
"Mmh~ I do," she said. "In a cafe."
"Excuse me?"
"Witschblume's heroine is usually in a cafe."
I despaired at once.
Why, if my loyal handmaiden, my horse and even the person I intended to volunteer as my map were all gluttons, how was I meant to leave a bakery, let alone Ouzelia?!
"Her name is Elise Rowe," she added cheerfully. "She's sort of famous in these parts, even for a heroine. She actually works as both a waitress and a heroine. That means she's real easy to find."
My only response was to widen my mouth.
Forgetting to feel relieved, I only knew astonishment.
A heroine who worked as a waitress?
Why, that was absurd! As far as I knew, it was a profession. And that meant income.
For one of Ouzelia's much vaunted heroines to be forced into additional work in an unrelated field suggested that their official saviours were not paid enough to afford even basic living expenses … and yet they still chose to do it!
Such virtuous spirit and selfless generosity! It was remarkable!
That meant … I could lower the stipend I intended to offer when I finally realised my farm boys-to-heroes scheme!
Ohohohoho!? Of course! Why hadn't I considered this?
Indeed, their very nature as goody-two-shoes meant I could fleece them for every coin!
My … My scheme had just become even more cost-effective!
"T-That is … why, that is incredible news! I had no idea your heroines were so poorly remunerated as standard! I … I need to take notes! Coppelia, remember every word you say!"
"Got it! Also, I should mention that I think ours is just a little–"
"No, no, no. I like this direction of thought. Now is not the time to distract with facts. Which cafe might I find this heroine? Or rather, how long until we reach Witschblume? Indeed, I see now that this is an opportunity in disguise! Since I'm here, I can interview her regarding her salary structure and working expectations!"
A strange smile met me. Understandable, of course. I scarcely knew how to react to my own ability to carve opportunity from the claws of remorse.
Why, being here wasn't an unmitigated disaster at all! … Well, no, it was … but I could at least make myself pretend that it wasn't! There was clearly important research I could conduct regarding how I was going to see my replacement for the Adventurer's Guild come to fruition!
"Witschblume isn't far now," said Coppelia. "We're already at the edge of the forest. Mostly because I've been punting away all the things you don't want to know has been trying to nibble you."
"Excellent."
"Now, as for the top attractions you can expect along the way–"
I held up my hand at once, stopping whatever litany of sightseeing suggestions she wished to offer.
"Coppelia, allow me to make this clear–this is not a social visit. This is not a personal visit. And this is most certainly not a diplomatic visit. I cannot under any circumstances be allowed to loiter for even a second longer than necessary. As a princess, I cannot just intrude upon foreign soil at will. This visit must be both swift and discreet."
She merely nodded … all the while placing her hands to her brows as she squinted ahead.
"Hypothetically, if you had to choose between swift or discreet, which would it be?"
I thought for a moment, carefully considering Coppelia's highly concerning motion.
"Please. If I had to choose, it would be swift, discreet and without fuss. After all, my menu choices are never limited. They only ever get bigger."
"Oooh, that's a good answer! By picking no particular thing, you don't tempt fate in one direction or the other."
"... Did it work?"
"Nah."
I gave a sigh, expecting little else.
Only a few moments later, the leaves began to thin. And what was a golden forest became instead a pearly sky which could have reflected a lake.
True to her word, we'd reached the edge of the forest. A boundary as sharp as the border between my kingdom and all its neighbours, with the oaks simply vanishing rather than lessening.
In their place, what I saw were fields of berries stretching out before me, filled to the brim like vineyards in the height of summer.
Yet even so, it was neither the vibrant colours nor the sight of a town rising in the horizon which demanded my attention.
No … that would be the ogre.
Specifically, the ogre in a maid's formal attire as she waited upon the dirt lane where it narrowed approaching the forest.
Despite her large frame, she was by no means inelegant. Her thick hands were neatly clasped together, her broad shoulders were back and her head and neck were held straight and facing ahead.
An immaculate posture lifted straight from the chalkboards found in the Royal Villa's servant quarters.
But this was no ordinary attendant.
Although her uniform boasted frills, I recognised from the fine seams and the embroidery that this was not the garments of a maid expected to hurl me from my bed at my mother's command each morning while pretending they only did it begrudgingly.
No, this was a maid expected to carry out reception duties.
One of higher standing and birthright.
And so it was as she offered a graceful curtsy bereft of flaws.
"Princess Juliette Contzen," she said, her voice as deep as it was measured. "I am Lady Uxna of the Blood Shrieker Tribe, head maid of Witschblume Castle. On behalf of Duchess Cadence Joyister Loventeidt, I offer my sincerest welcome."
She turned to the side, then gestured to where even in the distance, a white bastion rose over the town of Witschblume like my royal presence clearly loomed over Ouzelia.
"... The Duchess is expecting you."
One as gold as the canopy of leaves rustling overhead.
It was a quaint sight. Although the autumns of my kingdom were splendid and fair, the length of time that the golden leaves of my forests could be indulged in was all too brief. Not here.
Beyond the doors of a library blessed by the magic of a missing dragon, autumn came during spring.
All around me, golden oaks stretched from one end of this enchanted forest to another, with little indication as to where one ended and one began. Beneath dangling branches larger than chimneys, gnarled roots coiled across what little could be seen of a path requiring as much Apple's disregard for obstacles as Coppelia's humming guidance.
Glancing up, I admired the leaves as wide as spades billowing to a gentle breeze, their soft outline lit by the midday gleam.
And then I saw a pair of deeply weathered eyes blinking at me from the bark.
The tree groaned, its heavy branches dipping downwards in a rumbling greeting.
I smiled as I offered a polite nod.
And then I directed my gaze ahead. That's where it stayed.
"How curious," I said, as I leaned forwards to shoo Apple away from the offered leaves. "Had I known your forests were not permanently on fire, I would have viewed Ouzelia in a more favourable light."
Coppelia only looked amused.
Enjoying her role as our guide through this narrow trail, she skipped across roots like stepping stones in a river. Weaving between the foliage, her golden hair was occasionally lost amidst the leaves before she reappeared on yet another root.
Apple, no less graceful, barrelled over everything.
"That's because you're in the nice part of the forest. It's the rough part you're thinking about."
"... Really?"
"No." Coppelia flicked at a spiky branch. It retreated like a cowed puppy. "It'd probably make a great tourist attraction. But none of our forests are permanently on fire … usually."
I glanced through the forest.
No smoke. But the familiar rustling ensured I couldn't allow my guard to falter. I wasn't quite certain what hedgehogs in Ouzelia ate. But given the abundance of leafy foliage, a princess must surely count as an exotic delicacy.
"I've little idea why you have tourist attractions in the first place. Is your library not supposed to be hidden? It seems very half-hearted about its secrecy."
"Well, I think it used to be completely secret. But then obviously nobody visited. So the big guy opened it up to mysterious bearded archmages with big hats, saying they could visit in exchange for another book as an entry fee."
"I see. That sounds appropriate."
"Yup, that worked great! Except that there aren't a lot of mysterious bearded archmages with big hats and since they can conjure their own food, they'll pretty much stay until they've gone through everything. Like a caterpillar."
"Please, Coppelia. You cannot compare mysterious bearded archmages with big hats to caterpillars. One wields the power of destruction, the other is a professional disappointment."
"I bet the ones you met had tiny hats."
"Worse than that, most didn't even have beards." I wrinkled my nose as the memories failed to disperse. "Peddlers and charlatans. The louder their claims, the quieter their usefulness."
"Really? What did you get them to do?"
"Only the most trivial of trials. None of which has ever been passed. Frankly, if a self-proclaimed archmage cannot conjure the sugar cubes out of the Granholtz ambassador's teacup while he continually tries to throw more in, then they lack the right to stand beside my parents."
"Hmmmm … I think magical henchmen are usually used for other stuff. Like defending against assassins."
"A task my knights perform with distinction. Especially as they wouldn't spend every waking moment poring through the tomes of our library … including those so forbidden they simply refuse to combust despite being made of parchment and regret."
Coppelia giggled.
For now.
Once she was at the Royal Villa, I'd immediately request her help with spring cleaning. And that included works of poetry so avant garde that even I failed to understand what I'd written.
"Mmh~ I suppose that'd be a problem. It is with ours. They get so much reading done on one book donation, the big guy started charging them gold instead."
"A prudent measure."
"Yup! … Except most archmages are actually dirt poor. Probably because royalty don't hire them since they can't conjure sugar out of teacups."
"I hardly see why their lack of employable skills is our fault. Besides, if they wish to avoid poverty, they can just sell whatever enchanted staffs and priceless trinkets they have on hand."
"Sure. Except it turns out it's reaaaally hard to get change for enchanted staffs and priceless trinkets. Most merchants wouldn't have enough coins on hand even if they sold their house."
"Well, I fail to see why this dragon of yours needs coins in the first place. Does he not have an infinite supply to pay his staff by virtue of being a dragon?"
"I'm sure he does. Did. Once. Before he spent it all on books and stuff."
I idly tapped on Apple's reins. He snorted on my behalf.
"... Coppelia, is this dragon of yours poor?"
"Ahahaha~ don't be silly. Would a poor dragon have an amazing library filled with the rarest books?"
Coppelia paused.
She quickly looked around her, then leaned in with her hand shielding her lips.
"He's really bad with money!" she whispered at exactly the same volume. "Even though he's a dragon, I'm pretty sure he spent all his hoard! Now I'm constantly being told we might need to eat beans for a month while we get out of the red!"
I gave a tiny groan.
A poor dragon was like a poor princess. Why even live if one wasn't wealthy enough to be continually hounded by suiters and robbers alike?
"It isn't so bad, though," added Coppelia, her judgement clearly clouded by her long suffering. "Fleur is good at handling finances. That's what the gift shop and the tourist attractions are for!"
"... To scrounge for coins like common merchants?"
"Exactly! Speaking of which, do you want to visit a cursed waterfall? Only 1 silver crown and you get to see your finger becoming all wrinkly and gross for a bit."
"Thank you, but no. If you wish for my healing poke to bless a cursed waterfall, you shall need to remunerate me properly for the service."
Coppelia nodded at once.
Then, she hopped off the log she was balancing on and lifted it up. Cheeks puffed up in disappointment was soon to follow.
I didn't know what to be more aggrieved by. That she thought she could pay me off with coins found in the dirt, or that if all else failed, I couldn't refill the Royal Treasury by exporting the badgers from my orchard to till the soil.
"No worries!" said Coppelia, pretending as if she didn't possess a single coin of her own. "There are free attractions too! How about a lucky giant statue that looks like a fruit slime?"
"Certainly–as long as it's in Witschblume."
"Their lucky giant statues aren't as good as ours."
"Then I suppose I'll need to make do. Just as I am by requisitioning the services of a heroine instead of a compass. Would you happen to know where this individual can be found?"
Coppelia casually booted a small boulder off the trail. It rolled several metres, before scuttling the rest of the way into the forest, hissing as it went.
"Mmh~ I do," she said. "In a cafe."
"Excuse me?"
"Witschblume's heroine is usually in a cafe."
I despaired at once.
Why, if my loyal handmaiden, my horse and even the person I intended to volunteer as my map were all gluttons, how was I meant to leave a bakery, let alone Ouzelia?!
"Her name is Elise Rowe," she added cheerfully. "She's sort of famous in these parts, even for a heroine. She actually works as both a waitress and a heroine. That means she's real easy to find."
My only response was to widen my mouth.
Forgetting to feel relieved, I only knew astonishment.
A heroine who worked as a waitress?
Why, that was absurd! As far as I knew, it was a profession. And that meant income.
For one of Ouzelia's much vaunted heroines to be forced into additional work in an unrelated field suggested that their official saviours were not paid enough to afford even basic living expenses … and yet they still chose to do it!
Such virtuous spirit and selfless generosity! It was remarkable!
That meant … I could lower the stipend I intended to offer when I finally realised my farm boys-to-heroes scheme!
Ohohohoho!? Of course! Why hadn't I considered this?
Indeed, their very nature as goody-two-shoes meant I could fleece them for every coin!
My … My scheme had just become even more cost-effective!
"T-That is … why, that is incredible news! I had no idea your heroines were so poorly remunerated as standard! I … I need to take notes! Coppelia, remember every word you say!"
"Got it! Also, I should mention that I think ours is just a little–"
"No, no, no. I like this direction of thought. Now is not the time to distract with facts. Which cafe might I find this heroine? Or rather, how long until we reach Witschblume? Indeed, I see now that this is an opportunity in disguise! Since I'm here, I can interview her regarding her salary structure and working expectations!"
A strange smile met me. Understandable, of course. I scarcely knew how to react to my own ability to carve opportunity from the claws of remorse.
Why, being here wasn't an unmitigated disaster at all! … Well, no, it was … but I could at least make myself pretend that it wasn't! There was clearly important research I could conduct regarding how I was going to see my replacement for the Adventurer's Guild come to fruition!
"Witschblume isn't far now," said Coppelia. "We're already at the edge of the forest. Mostly because I've been punting away all the things you don't want to know has been trying to nibble you."
"Excellent."
"Now, as for the top attractions you can expect along the way–"
I held up my hand at once, stopping whatever litany of sightseeing suggestions she wished to offer.
"Coppelia, allow me to make this clear–this is not a social visit. This is not a personal visit. And this is most certainly not a diplomatic visit. I cannot under any circumstances be allowed to loiter for even a second longer than necessary. As a princess, I cannot just intrude upon foreign soil at will. This visit must be both swift and discreet."
She merely nodded … all the while placing her hands to her brows as she squinted ahead.
"Hypothetically, if you had to choose between swift or discreet, which would it be?"
I thought for a moment, carefully considering Coppelia's highly concerning motion.
"Please. If I had to choose, it would be swift, discreet and without fuss. After all, my menu choices are never limited. They only ever get bigger."
"Oooh, that's a good answer! By picking no particular thing, you don't tempt fate in one direction or the other."
"... Did it work?"
"Nah."
I gave a sigh, expecting little else.
Only a few moments later, the leaves began to thin. And what was a golden forest became instead a pearly sky which could have reflected a lake.
True to her word, we'd reached the edge of the forest. A boundary as sharp as the border between my kingdom and all its neighbours, with the oaks simply vanishing rather than lessening.
In their place, what I saw were fields of berries stretching out before me, filled to the brim like vineyards in the height of summer.
Yet even so, it was neither the vibrant colours nor the sight of a town rising in the horizon which demanded my attention.
No … that would be the ogre.
Specifically, the ogre in a maid's formal attire as she waited upon the dirt lane where it narrowed approaching the forest.
Despite her large frame, she was by no means inelegant. Her thick hands were neatly clasped together, her broad shoulders were back and her head and neck were held straight and facing ahead.
An immaculate posture lifted straight from the chalkboards found in the Royal Villa's servant quarters.
But this was no ordinary attendant.
Although her uniform boasted frills, I recognised from the fine seams and the embroidery that this was not the garments of a maid expected to hurl me from my bed at my mother's command each morning while pretending they only did it begrudgingly.
No, this was a maid expected to carry out reception duties.
One of higher standing and birthright.
And so it was as she offered a graceful curtsy bereft of flaws.
"Princess Juliette Contzen," she said, her voice as deep as it was measured. "I am Lady Uxna of the Blood Shrieker Tribe, head maid of Witschblume Castle. On behalf of Duchess Cadence Joyister Loventeidt, I offer my sincerest welcome."
She turned to the side, then gestured to where even in the distance, a white bastion rose over the town of Witschblume like my royal presence clearly loomed over Ouzelia.
"... The Duchess is expecting you."
- Location
- Argentina
"Oh great, we haven't got a guide yet and there is already side-quests? Coppelia your country is horrible!"
Chapter 291: Laundry Day
Streams of tiny flags ran from rooftop to rooftop.
The town of Witschblume was certainly a colourful affair. What may have once been walls of sensible red bricks and faded wood were instead canvasses in their own right.
As Apple bore me along a loosely cobbled road through the centre of this famed town, it was while trotting beneath a rainbow of pastel yellows, green and violet signboards.
Even so, while the façades of the many storefronts and houses may be different, those hollering for my attention were not. No matter how far I travelled or or how I bravely huddled away from every open window boasting a piano peeking over its edge, my regal aura was one which transcended distance.
And that meant a rare chance for the people of Ouzelia to shower their attention upon a true princess.
"Oh, Lady Uxna! Try this new cream for your heels! It's made of soothing dewberry extract and elderflower vine! You can have a tub for free!"
"My lady, would you like to sit down and relax at my restaurant? It's just reopened! I've a new lunch menu you can sample! Try everything, I insist! It's all on me!"
"Madame Blood Shrieker! Come, come sample my new product! It's a gleamroot elixir to make your hair shine like the moon! I happen to have a test crate with your name on it!"
"Lady Uxna, please notice meeee!"
Indeed!
The crowd simply could not get enough of me … via the maid escorting me by my side.
As we navigated this market street teeming with commoners, merchants and oddballs, it was made all the busier by the throngs of curious admirers steadfastly avoiding eye contact with me as they instead sought to harass the ogre beside me.
Seeing the looks of eagerness light up their faces as they directed it at someone else … I could only nod.
My, what a delightful surprise!
To think that despite my worst fears, the people here knew enough of etiquette to appropriately heckle my accompanying retinue instead!
True, they really shouldn't be blocking my way to do it … in fact, they shouldn't be pestering her at all, but rather going through Coppelia. But I could hardly blame them for the mishap.
After all–
"I'll take this, and that, and this, and that~"
Coppelia was busy.
Unable to ward away the commoners threatening Apple's hooves, she was instead reaching out and accepting every item being offered in the maid's place. Within moments, her arms were laden with all the things necessary to compete with her library's gift shop.
As expected, my loyal handmaiden wasn't to be caught idling. The more sources of income she secured, the greater the statement that she would not be undone in the face of somebody else's retainer.
And my, wasn't this a rare one to earn a smidgeon of my interest?
Strange as it was to converse idly with maids, it was still acceptable if they were of notable birth or background. Just as this one's title suggested.
A curious thing. Although I knew little of ogres and their ways, I at least understood they possessed better insults than to elevate their own with titles of nobility. That was just demeaning.
No … she'd been bestowed it by others.
"You appear popular with the people, Lady Uxna. I am grateful to have you as my escort."
"Your words do me honour." She offered a respectful nod, all the while pushing commoners aside by way of being larger than everyone else. "Allow me also to apologise for the commotion."
"Oh? Whatever for?"
"Witschblume is famed for its liveliness, but more so when I walk its streets. It is well known that I represent Duchess Cadence. My opinion is often sought after in the hope of securing her patronage."
"A sentiment I'm all too familiar with, then. To be heaped with free gifts and adoration on top of being immensely wealthy is a terrible burden."
"So it is," said Lady Uxna politely.
I offered a smile while casually tugging Apple's reins a little to the side. He snorted directly into a peasant reaching across with a bouquet of flowers, then gobbled said flowers.
"Might I ask how you came about your title? I confess I'm unfamiliar with the intricacies of ogre peerages."
"That is because they do not exist. At least not in common form. Those most celebrated amongst our tribes mark their high status with the wreathed bones of our enemies and a face paint of their blood."
"A subtle and dignified display. We could all learn from your example."
"Thank you. I share similar sentiments. Be that as it may, Duchess Cadence saw fit to reward me with a title in keeping with local tradition, in recognition of my services to Witschblume."
"A gift as rare as it is to accept it. I know of ogres who have taken to the call of the sea. But none who have taken to the call of human nations."
"Nor are you likely to. I still represent my tribe, albeit as part of a cultural exchange."
"A … cultural exchange?"
"It's been remarkably enlightening. And not only for myself. I educate myself on the peculiars of local politics, while my exchange partner fights to the death in the Blood Pits."
I gasped and covered my mouth.
To eschew fighting to the death in gladiatorial combat to instead die a slow and torturous death by boredom in the court was a sacrifice deserving of far more than a mere peerage!
"Is … Is that so? Goodness, your dedication to your tribe is quite commendable."
"It is no great burden," she said modestly. "There are hurdles, but few which cannot be overcome through perseverance and a show of a slightly pronounced molar. The formal title is helpful as well."
"A reflection of your character. As well as Duchess Cadence's foresight."
"She is certainly known for her wisdom, yes. I hope that your meeting with her is productive."
"As do I. Indeed, I'm most curious about what she wishes to discuss. Particularly as such short notice."
"I'm afraid that is not for me to say. I was only requested to offer you an audience."
I offered a polite smile.
After all, how could I not, while I was so keenly expected in another realm?
Yes, there were several problems. I wanted this visit to be swift, discreet and without fuss. The only things I desired along with everything I could possibly want.
Instead, I could practically hear the scampering feet of our diplomats as they trembled at the prospect of this unscheduled meeting. And only partially to do with the fact that I was entirely unfamiliar with the minute details of foreign diplomacy.
But that's fine!
I was learned in more than the ways of popular culture! Despite the valiant attempts of my siblings, it was only natural that I wouldn't be wholly excluded from the drudgery of court life. I had little doubt I could represent the grace and dignity of my kingdom.
All the more so since I was never here.
Indeed, it was clear that informality was very much the theme of this visit.
The lack of ceremony spoke as much as the fact that my escort was conscious not to use any mode of address. Yet more than her discretion was the fact this was no parade of banners, trumpets and knights clogging up the street.
And that was proof I had little to fear.
If Witschblume's ruler wished to indulge in her curiosity, then who was I to deny it?
Especially if she could help shorten my visit.
"Your Duchess has keen eyes," I said. "Only a short time ago, I myself did not even expect to be here."
"Little occurs in Witschblume without Duchess Cadence's knowledge. Particularly regarding princesses. Before the signing of the Queensholme Accords, it was expected that when a princess was taken by a dragon, it fell to the regional ruler to organise her rescue. Your sudden arrival sent no less than a dozen separate artifacts shattering the windows."
I let out a tiny groan.
Of course. Ouzelia. The home of dragons. Where else would a way to detect rapidly arriving princesses be found if not in the place where they were all taken? For all I knew, there was an entire industry around it. If murder fog could be commercialised, then why not rescuing princesses?
"Goodness. My apologies, then. I shall ensure that somebody other than me compensates you. Rest assured, I am as much a victim as your windows are."
"I'm certain the Duchess will understand. While I cannot know her mind or your purpose, I believe that windows are unlikely to be a topic of conversation. Not least since they break with regular frequency."
I waited for context. Or a smile of inappropriate humour.
Neither came.
I shuddered instead, leaning away from every window as I searched for the silhouettes of my kingdom's St. Liane exports teetering needlessly. Neither the unease nor my now permanently scrunched shoulders faded. But the gaggle of fawning merchants soon did.
As the cobbled street winded onwards, the rows of stalls and storefronts lessened, replaced by the sight of white walls rising high overhead.
Witschblume castle looked rather like it had been plucked from a picture book. A quaint and charming sight, built clearly to host dignitaries rather than to withstand a siege. Neither the towers nor the ramparts were as grand or impressive as Reitzlake Castle. But it was worth a moment of admiration nonetheless.
I paused to appreciate the many arched windows. Each was stained with a different colour of the rainbow, the glass a mosaic of intricate patterns likely to be matched only by the finest of cathedrals.
Pwsshhhhh.
And then I saw an even more colourful sight.
A woven basket breaking through one of the delicate windows.
As it flew, garments trailed behind it like streams of ribbons. Gowns, socks and puffy frocks. Fabrics of light hues to match the pastel nature of the town floated downwards as the basket rolled before us, empty except for the multiple shoes weighing it down.
Lady Uxna leaned down amidst the shower of garments and plucked out a note.
I politely turned away. And then quickly peeked when she wasn't looking.
Lady Uxna's eyes were unmoving even as she read it.
After a moment, she turned to me with a look of apology.
"The Duchess is prone to decisions of fancy," she said lightly. "Particularly in regards to her dislike of the maintenance of her attire. Please do not be concerned. She is diligent in matters of governance."
I stared at all the garments as they lay scattered upon the cobbled road.
And then I returned to the note.
This Duchess … why, she'd just outlawed laundry!
That was just absurd! … Or was it?
If … If I did such a thing, it would mean the socks which didn't exist on my floor would by definition no longer count as garments lazily strewn by the wayside! Rather, they'd be classified as discarded excess I had no expectation to neatly pile into a basket myself!
I gave a gasp as light filled my vision.
"W-What a revolutionary!"
Lady Uxna's shoulders immediately drooped. Coppelia kindly reached up and patted her.
"Don't worry, it only gets harder from here~"
The town of Witschblume was certainly a colourful affair. What may have once been walls of sensible red bricks and faded wood were instead canvasses in their own right.
As Apple bore me along a loosely cobbled road through the centre of this famed town, it was while trotting beneath a rainbow of pastel yellows, green and violet signboards.
Even so, while the façades of the many storefronts and houses may be different, those hollering for my attention were not. No matter how far I travelled or or how I bravely huddled away from every open window boasting a piano peeking over its edge, my regal aura was one which transcended distance.
And that meant a rare chance for the people of Ouzelia to shower their attention upon a true princess.
"Oh, Lady Uxna! Try this new cream for your heels! It's made of soothing dewberry extract and elderflower vine! You can have a tub for free!"
"My lady, would you like to sit down and relax at my restaurant? It's just reopened! I've a new lunch menu you can sample! Try everything, I insist! It's all on me!"
"Madame Blood Shrieker! Come, come sample my new product! It's a gleamroot elixir to make your hair shine like the moon! I happen to have a test crate with your name on it!"
"Lady Uxna, please notice meeee!"
Indeed!
The crowd simply could not get enough of me … via the maid escorting me by my side.
As we navigated this market street teeming with commoners, merchants and oddballs, it was made all the busier by the throngs of curious admirers steadfastly avoiding eye contact with me as they instead sought to harass the ogre beside me.
Seeing the looks of eagerness light up their faces as they directed it at someone else … I could only nod.
My, what a delightful surprise!
To think that despite my worst fears, the people here knew enough of etiquette to appropriately heckle my accompanying retinue instead!
True, they really shouldn't be blocking my way to do it … in fact, they shouldn't be pestering her at all, but rather going through Coppelia. But I could hardly blame them for the mishap.
After all–
"I'll take this, and that, and this, and that~"
Coppelia was busy.
Unable to ward away the commoners threatening Apple's hooves, she was instead reaching out and accepting every item being offered in the maid's place. Within moments, her arms were laden with all the things necessary to compete with her library's gift shop.
As expected, my loyal handmaiden wasn't to be caught idling. The more sources of income she secured, the greater the statement that she would not be undone in the face of somebody else's retainer.
And my, wasn't this a rare one to earn a smidgeon of my interest?
Strange as it was to converse idly with maids, it was still acceptable if they were of notable birth or background. Just as this one's title suggested.
A curious thing. Although I knew little of ogres and their ways, I at least understood they possessed better insults than to elevate their own with titles of nobility. That was just demeaning.
No … she'd been bestowed it by others.
"You appear popular with the people, Lady Uxna. I am grateful to have you as my escort."
"Your words do me honour." She offered a respectful nod, all the while pushing commoners aside by way of being larger than everyone else. "Allow me also to apologise for the commotion."
"Oh? Whatever for?"
"Witschblume is famed for its liveliness, but more so when I walk its streets. It is well known that I represent Duchess Cadence. My opinion is often sought after in the hope of securing her patronage."
"A sentiment I'm all too familiar with, then. To be heaped with free gifts and adoration on top of being immensely wealthy is a terrible burden."
"So it is," said Lady Uxna politely.
I offered a smile while casually tugging Apple's reins a little to the side. He snorted directly into a peasant reaching across with a bouquet of flowers, then gobbled said flowers.
"Might I ask how you came about your title? I confess I'm unfamiliar with the intricacies of ogre peerages."
"That is because they do not exist. At least not in common form. Those most celebrated amongst our tribes mark their high status with the wreathed bones of our enemies and a face paint of their blood."
"A subtle and dignified display. We could all learn from your example."
"Thank you. I share similar sentiments. Be that as it may, Duchess Cadence saw fit to reward me with a title in keeping with local tradition, in recognition of my services to Witschblume."
"A gift as rare as it is to accept it. I know of ogres who have taken to the call of the sea. But none who have taken to the call of human nations."
"Nor are you likely to. I still represent my tribe, albeit as part of a cultural exchange."
"A … cultural exchange?"
"It's been remarkably enlightening. And not only for myself. I educate myself on the peculiars of local politics, while my exchange partner fights to the death in the Blood Pits."
I gasped and covered my mouth.
To eschew fighting to the death in gladiatorial combat to instead die a slow and torturous death by boredom in the court was a sacrifice deserving of far more than a mere peerage!
"Is … Is that so? Goodness, your dedication to your tribe is quite commendable."
"It is no great burden," she said modestly. "There are hurdles, but few which cannot be overcome through perseverance and a show of a slightly pronounced molar. The formal title is helpful as well."
"A reflection of your character. As well as Duchess Cadence's foresight."
"She is certainly known for her wisdom, yes. I hope that your meeting with her is productive."
"As do I. Indeed, I'm most curious about what she wishes to discuss. Particularly as such short notice."
"I'm afraid that is not for me to say. I was only requested to offer you an audience."
I offered a polite smile.
After all, how could I not, while I was so keenly expected in another realm?
Yes, there were several problems. I wanted this visit to be swift, discreet and without fuss. The only things I desired along with everything I could possibly want.
Instead, I could practically hear the scampering feet of our diplomats as they trembled at the prospect of this unscheduled meeting. And only partially to do with the fact that I was entirely unfamiliar with the minute details of foreign diplomacy.
But that's fine!
I was learned in more than the ways of popular culture! Despite the valiant attempts of my siblings, it was only natural that I wouldn't be wholly excluded from the drudgery of court life. I had little doubt I could represent the grace and dignity of my kingdom.
All the more so since I was never here.
Indeed, it was clear that informality was very much the theme of this visit.
The lack of ceremony spoke as much as the fact that my escort was conscious not to use any mode of address. Yet more than her discretion was the fact this was no parade of banners, trumpets and knights clogging up the street.
And that was proof I had little to fear.
If Witschblume's ruler wished to indulge in her curiosity, then who was I to deny it?
Especially if she could help shorten my visit.
"Your Duchess has keen eyes," I said. "Only a short time ago, I myself did not even expect to be here."
"Little occurs in Witschblume without Duchess Cadence's knowledge. Particularly regarding princesses. Before the signing of the Queensholme Accords, it was expected that when a princess was taken by a dragon, it fell to the regional ruler to organise her rescue. Your sudden arrival sent no less than a dozen separate artifacts shattering the windows."
I let out a tiny groan.
Of course. Ouzelia. The home of dragons. Where else would a way to detect rapidly arriving princesses be found if not in the place where they were all taken? For all I knew, there was an entire industry around it. If murder fog could be commercialised, then why not rescuing princesses?
"Goodness. My apologies, then. I shall ensure that somebody other than me compensates you. Rest assured, I am as much a victim as your windows are."
"I'm certain the Duchess will understand. While I cannot know her mind or your purpose, I believe that windows are unlikely to be a topic of conversation. Not least since they break with regular frequency."
I waited for context. Or a smile of inappropriate humour.
Neither came.
I shuddered instead, leaning away from every window as I searched for the silhouettes of my kingdom's St. Liane exports teetering needlessly. Neither the unease nor my now permanently scrunched shoulders faded. But the gaggle of fawning merchants soon did.
As the cobbled street winded onwards, the rows of stalls and storefronts lessened, replaced by the sight of white walls rising high overhead.
Witschblume castle looked rather like it had been plucked from a picture book. A quaint and charming sight, built clearly to host dignitaries rather than to withstand a siege. Neither the towers nor the ramparts were as grand or impressive as Reitzlake Castle. But it was worth a moment of admiration nonetheless.
I paused to appreciate the many arched windows. Each was stained with a different colour of the rainbow, the glass a mosaic of intricate patterns likely to be matched only by the finest of cathedrals.
Pwsshhhhh.
And then I saw an even more colourful sight.
A woven basket breaking through one of the delicate windows.
As it flew, garments trailed behind it like streams of ribbons. Gowns, socks and puffy frocks. Fabrics of light hues to match the pastel nature of the town floated downwards as the basket rolled before us, empty except for the multiple shoes weighing it down.
Lady Uxna leaned down amidst the shower of garments and plucked out a note.
I politely turned away. And then quickly peeked when she wasn't looking.
I hereby declare laundry outlawed,
Duchess Cadence
Duchess Cadence
Lady Uxna's eyes were unmoving even as she read it.
After a moment, she turned to me with a look of apology.
"The Duchess is prone to decisions of fancy," she said lightly. "Particularly in regards to her dislike of the maintenance of her attire. Please do not be concerned. She is diligent in matters of governance."
I stared at all the garments as they lay scattered upon the cobbled road.
And then I returned to the note.
This Duchess … why, she'd just outlawed laundry!
That was just absurd! … Or was it?
If … If I did such a thing, it would mean the socks which didn't exist on my floor would by definition no longer count as garments lazily strewn by the wayside! Rather, they'd be classified as discarded excess I had no expectation to neatly pile into a basket myself!
I gave a gasp as light filled my vision.
"W-What a revolutionary!"
Lady Uxna's shoulders immediately drooped. Coppelia kindly reached up and patted her.
"Don't worry, it only gets harder from here~"
- Location
- Argentina
Could be worse, you could be dating a mermaid.
If you date a mermaid everyday is a splash 💦
- Location
- Argentina
Chapter 292: Standard Etiquette
Lady Uxna rapped her knuckles against an ornate wooden door.
"Duchess Cadence. Your guests have arrived."
Pumph.
The sound of an object tossed against the door came in answer. Lady Uxna turned to me and bowed.
"The Duchess says she is most grateful for your time and invites you to enter her study."
"Thank you."
I offered a smile as the seasoned ogre maid departed.
A moment later, she paused to adjust a portrait I'd purposefully nudged along the way.
I was mildly impressed. While I had complaints about the use of burgundy carpets when it was tacitly only rolled out in anticipation for the most drunken of dignitaries, I had fewer qualms concerning the training of the castle staff.
Indeed, they were inconspicuous and quietly efficient. Only through my studious eyes and the fact I'd occasionally poke a curtain to a squeak of discomfort revealed the labour behind the upkeep.
Sadly, not even the most hospitable of servants could balance out the fact I was even here at all.
Yes … because right now, I was in the heart of a foreign castle.
To say this was a situation fraught with peril was to say sneezing in front of my etiquette teacher was only mildly hazardous. It wasn't. It was the most dangerous thing one could do. As was wading into an audience with a foreign duchess without my siblings to point to instead.
Even so, I wasn't above the challenge. And nor was my loyal handmaiden, whose wisdom concerning Witschblume and its ruler I could rely upon.
"Very well," I said, nodding towards Coppelia. "What can I expect of this Duchess, then?"
"No idea."
Hmm.
This was going to be one of those meetings, wasn't it?
"... Is that it?"
"Mmh~ this really wasn't part of the sightseeing itinerary. If we followed my plan, we'd be at the Cursed Ruins right now. Want to go afterwards?"
"I … I shall pass, thank you."
"Are you sure? Admission is free if you can dodge all the traps."
"Then I'll be all too delighted to experience it if I require a sudden escape free of cost. We've yet to arrive at that point. I hope to keep it that way. Is this Duchess not your local ruler?"
"Technically, sure. But she's never stuck her head into the library or dropped by during any of the family gatherings, either. I don't think she's ever even popped in to steal a jam tart."
I offered the look of puzzlement that deserved. Not least because stealing jam tarts was a rite of passage for young maidens everywhere. Even a family gathering was worth that.
"Excuse me? Why would she drop by a family gathering?"
"Oh, right. I'm pretty sure she's my cousin."
My mouth widened at once.
"Your cousin? … Coppelia, that is highly pertinent information! Why, we could use that to our advantage! How closely related, exactly? How many times removed? Which house branch? And what is the number of unexplained accidents before you would assume the seat as Witschblume's ruler?"
"Ahaha~" Coppelia waved my opportunism away. "It's not like that. I have a lot of cousins. It doesn't mean we all know each other. She's a clockwork doll. And I'm definitely not lined up for her job. "
My hopes deflated at once.
A shame. To have the ruler of a town famed for its berry harvests as part of my personal retinue would have been a wonderful boon. Yet perhaps this could still be salvaged.
Indeed, there was little reason why new bonds could not be forged.
I now officially knew two clockwork dolls. To one, I was a princess. To the other, I was a saviour. And now to this third, I could be both. Any missing dragon doubtless concerned her as well.
Thus … opportunity!
"Very well, then," I said with a confident smile. "Let us see what this Duchess is made of."
My loyal handmaiden enthusiastically pumped her fist in the air.
"Diplomacy~!"
"Yes, Coppelia. Diplomacy. And with not a single piece of strewn furniture involved."
She blinked at me.
"Soooooo … just things smaller than furniture?"
"No. Nothing at all will be dislodged from its original position."
"That doesn't sound very fun."
"We're not here to have fun. We're here to navigate a situation fraught with peril and to find a missing dragon as our reward. Remember–no matter how informal this meeting, all etiquette must be observed. And this goes for caution as well. We know little of this clockwork duchess, and even less of her mind."
"I think she doesn't like laundry."
"Yes, her wisdom has already shown itself. But wisdom also means cunning. We must be on guard."
"Okie~"
Coppelia gave a lazy smile. All the while not bothering to open the door for me.
I gestured towards it with my chin. When she began winding up her leg, I pushed the door myself, opting to display that in my kingdom, a princess was not so helpless that she could not even navigate her own entrance.
As it swung noiselessly inwards, I stepped through with trained grace.
Smile ready. Back straight. Hands clasped together. Emergency yawn prepared.
A moment later–
I realised none of them were needed.
In the court of diplomacy, every action spoke a thousand words. And yet in this instance, my entrance was drowned amidst a cacophony … for what spoke even louder than my entrance was the complete absence of anyone to meet me.
Neither a curtsy nor a sniffle was to be found.
For a moment, indignation filled my every pore.
Why, to be purposefully kept idling was nothing short of gruesome disrespect!
Here was a tactic my family employed as standard! But I was no weaselling merchant here to beg a copper crown from my father! I was a royal representative!
Yet as I surveyed a study which was lacking in all traditional aspects of a study, I saw no discreet door leading to a solar from which a duchess could unhurriedly stroll in while fanning the non-existent sweat from her face.
In fact … all I saw was a private chamber, complete with a large bed beneath a window with a basket-shaped hole in the glass.
Bewilderment struck me as I wondered whether I'd been mistakenly led into the Duchess's sleeping quarter. And then disbelief as I realised I very much had.
A pile of unkempt duvet began to wriggle.
A moment later … up rose an arm.
Like a drowning maiden seeking to be rescued, a frilled sleeve was caught by the streams of sunlight released through the broken window. The hand which peeked out slowly beckoned me closer.
My eyes studied for anything else to offer my attention towards.
There wasn't any. And so I slowly approached the arm … only to be met by the sight of a face poking out from a crumpled pile of bedsheets like a badger peeking its face beyond a den.
A girl younger than myself.
One whose proud eyes blinked at me through locks of hair as pale as snow. As she lay on her side, I spied the outline of a large key protruding from her back shaping the duvet.
"Greetings, Princess Juliette Contzen," she said, her tone business-like and imperious, no differently than were she sat upon a high chair. "I welcome you to the Duchy of Witschblume."
I offered a nod.
"Salutations … would you be the ruler of this town?"
"I am. You speak with Cadence Joyister Loventeidt. I am charged with the defence and prosperity of Witschblume and all its people. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me at short notice."
"You're welcome."
The Duchess nodded.
"Would you like a raisin brioche? It's conjured directly from the kitchen."
I glanced down at a plate upon a bedside table. A golden bun slathered in butter sat waiting.
"Thank you," I said as I offered it to Coppelia.
Immediately, the bun was replaced by a raspberry strudel, appearing with a tiny wisp of smoke.
That too vanished, plucked by a hand faster than a diving albatross. A glistening éclair took its place. And then a buttery croissant. And then a slice of mille-feuille. And then an entire stack of profiteroles.
Like an endless fountain of pastry, this diminutive plate warred against my loyal handmaiden's appetite, and then her curiosity as she continually piled desserts directly into the pouch by her waist. Only after a cry of grief swept into the chamber from a distressed chef did the plate stop instantly filling.
Yet when a single pink macaron appeared, the Duchess poached it like a chameleon grabbing a fly.
"I was waiting for that," she said as it vanished into her duvet den. "Hmm. Rhubarb flavour. Interesting."
My beautiful smile never wavered.
"... Excuse me, but I cannot help but notice you appear to be in bed."
"I am, yes."
"Are you ill, by any chance?"
"Yes. I suffer from a malady called Lady Uxna. She insists I do not get enough sunlight, despite the fact that it is irrelevant to my needs. Having no wish to endure her chiding, I am therefore obliging her request as I see fit."
Duchess Cadence blinked as the sunlight from the broken window grazed her chin, all the while she set fire to etiquette with the efficiency of a flaming tornado.
A notable opponent. I turned my smile to Coppelia.
"I require a croissant."
"Got it!~"
Coppelia opened her pouch. Out came a buttery croissant pinched from the conjuring plate. I took it, and then without looking, immediately started nibbling. Flakes of pastry began to drift down upon the lying figure of the clockwork duchess.
"It is my pleasure to meet you," I said with my mouth full. "Much has been said about the beauty of Witschblume. I see it was all understated."
"Then it appears I'm due a refund," she replied without fuss. "I ordered that lies concerning Witschblume's beauty be spread with no regards to shame. 15% of my economy is based on tourism. An infinite amount of desserts don't just conjure themselves."
She paused, then blew away some of the croissant flakes. She looked mildly amused.
"Hmm. Most princesses would be more vocally insulted by my current state."
"I'd never dream of this as an insult. It is only fit and proper that as ruler of this town, you are permitted to dictate the rules of etiquette."
"Oh?"
"A ruler should govern by example, and what better example than the ability to lounge while the kitchen staff work on your behalf? To do otherwise is a grave sin, for why should any subject seek to struggle if their thoughts of climbing the ladder to treason will not earn them such fruitful yields of slovenliness in turn?"
"Lady Uxna says otherwise."
"Lady Uxna is a retainer. I am a princess. And my words are wisdom born in the halls of enduring history."
The Duchess nodded.
Then, she reached out and offered approximately half a pink macaron.
"Would you like to try it?"
"Yes, please."
I accepted with a smile.
And thus–the intricacies of foreign diplomacy had been successfully navigated.
Duchess Cadence swallowed her half of the macaron, then brushed the croissant crumbs onto the floor.
"Now, then," she said matter-of-factly. "What is the calamity which brings you to my town? I can still hear the alarms ringing. It's been many years since I last had to deal with any princess related matters. And even longer where one hasn't been stolen. So tell me, if you would, of the tide of woe you bring."
I leaned down to help sweep some of the croissant crumbs from her duvet.
It was invigorating to spill it upon a different floor.
"I bring only the tide of my reassuring presence. Foul deeds flow into Ouzelia, and I am the ebb which will draw it back. You have a missing dragon."
"I do, now?" The Duchess raised an eyebrow. She paused as if to consider my words. "... Ah. I do have a dragon. Virudaax the Learned. Was he still alive?"
"Apparently so, for it is not a princess who has been stolen, but your draconic subject."
"Hmm. A curious phrase. I've little mind to consider that bookworm to be one of my own."
"Is he not a resident, only a stone's throw from this very castle?"
"Proximity means little to a dragon. A stone's throw and a shooting star is the same to their wings. The library this one lords over is a realm in itself. He pays no taxes, citing a litany of ancient tax exclusions nobody else but he understands. Other than sending me a birthday card each year, our interactions are few. I would be surprised if yours were more."
The Duchess blew away a strand of hair stuck to her lips.
"... So why does a missing dragon concern you?"
"I've important matters of contract to discuss with him. The sooner the better. As wonderful as these macarons are, I would rather return to my kingdom and ease the grief of my diplomats. Sadly, the librarians are unaware of where he might be or who had seized him."
"Because librarians have too much imagination and not enough knowledge of current events. If he has been stolen, then the culprits are as clear as the libel written in The Witschblume Times."
She nudged her face towards several bundles of parchment, each tied up like logs and sat before a fireplace waiting to consume them. I squinted at the nearest heading.
"Disgusting, no?" she said, burrowing once more into her den. "I have a 102% approval rating. The dead literally rise to praise me. A day will come where the scales balance, Princess. And when it does, a missing dragon would be the kindest news. But you needn't be here to see it."
Fwip.
Out came a wad of parchment from beneath the duvet. The same as those destined for the hearth. Yet as I marvelled at someone whose approval rating was almost as high as mine, my eyes peered down to see the news a chin was prodding against.
"Cultists sighted outside Witschblume," I said, reading the tiny print.
"Dragon cultists," replied the Duchess. "Otherwise known as the modern plague."
I joined the Duchess in a cordial frown.
Dragon cultists.
They did not exist in the Kingdom of Tirea. A mercy I gratefully accepted. But that didn't mean their influence wasn't seen. They came in all colours and liveries. Sometimes as knights seeking to do good in their name. Sometimes as zealots speaking on behalf of those who did not even note their existence.
But any group large enough to make a voice meant power enough to cause mischief.
"Very well. And why would these themed brigands seek to steal a dragon?"
"The short answer is that they are dumb. The long answer is that since the signing of the Queensholme Accords, dragons have lived peacefully with the residents of this realm. They are creatures of law, even if sometimes they view the law with their own definition. Yet so long as we uphold our agreement in respect to their homes and boundaries, they too extend the courtesy. Not all agree with this unproblematic state of affairs."
"Wonderful. And I take it they've a hand in my missing dragon?"
"I would assume so. Coincidences are rarer than fogs without a murder in Ouzelia. That you would appear when they're seen scurrying like rats biting at the fringes of my town is no stroke of chance. Clearly, you are meant to rescue this dragon."
"No. I am here to have a conversation with a dragon. And depending on how agreeable he is to my unagreeable demands, I will decide whether or not he is to be rescued."
Suddenly, the Duchess broke into a smile.
Her very first this conversation.
"Then you'll require assistance. Particularly if cultists are involved. They worship dragons, yet they themselves are a particular brand of cockroaches, existing despite my best efforts."
I matched her smile by lifting my own.
"Then isn't it well I'm familiar with gently blowing away cockroaches into the breeze? I heard you have access to a heroine. Might I borrow her for directions?"
"You may. This is a problem which needs handling before the summer tourism boom. However, Elise Rowe is currently preoccupied and will be unavailable for a number of days."
I held back a groan.
Frankly, even a few hours was too much.
"Very well … and how many days is that, exactly? Less or more than a week?"
"287 days."
I tilted my head slightly, just about stopping my smile from catapulting all the way back to my kingdom.
"Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that?"
"287 days is when my heroine will be available again."
"Is … Is this how long it usually takes for her to complete her tasks?"
"No. It usually takes 1. Her current task is unlike her others."
"I see … well, no, I don't. I understand she might be busy. But this is a missing dragon. Is she perhaps rescuing a different missing dragon?"
"No. She's currently on holiday."
I placed my face in my palms.
"... Your heroine is on holiday?"
"An overdue holiday. Elise has failed to take a single day of her legally mandatory allowance since the day she picked up her sword. As Lady Uxna informs me I may be held personally liable should Elise lodge a formal grievance, I have backdated all her missing holiday time and made it a law that she is not allowed to return to Witschblume until she has spent it."
My grief was palpable.
This! This right here! This was why I didn't permit my servants holidays!
If a single marble bust in the Royal Villa failed to gleam enough to distract Duke Hallingsey's son when my mother and father conspired to have me meet him, then that was a tragedy!
This … This was less disastrous than that, but it was still a clear issue!
"Surely, that's not permitted? What if a calamity occurs?"
"It would require a deeply rude calamity to strike when a heroine is on holiday. Ouzelia is many things, but uncivil is not one of them. Rest assured, no Great Evil will rise while she is relaxing."
"This is more important than a Great Evil. It is my time. And I cannot put off my own busy schedule to wait for a heroine to finish lounging on a beach. Is this missing dragon not a concern?"
"It is unfortunate to the library, yes. But until his disappearance signals the end of the world, I have no obligation to recall Elise. Doing so runs its own dangers, of which I am loath to invite. My apologies, Princess, but my heroine is currently unavailable."
I took in a deep sigh.
"Very well. Is there a different heroine I can borrow?"
"Plenty, although none quite as good as Elise. And few inclined to rescue a dragon on behalf of Witschblume. They have their own problems. But not all require a heroine to solve. If you merely desire to know where this dragon is, then instead of finding a heroine, I suggest you find a seer. The Mad Prophet should do."
I raised my arms in exasperation.
"Who is the Mad Prophet?"
"A prophet who is mad."
Coppelia helpfully poked my delicate waist as my grief threatened to overwhelm me.
"Oooh, I've heard of the Mad Prophet!" she said excitedly. "He's completely bonkers! That's great!"
"W-Why is that great?!"
"The more nuts they are, the better their prophecies!"
The Duchess nodded in agreement.
"He is insane, but reputably so. He has a business only a short ride away, past the road east and the Witsching River. You can't miss him. Mostly since he'll know you're coming and so will be waiting. Any query concerning local cults suddenly bristling with stolen draconic power will do, I imagine."
She gestured through the hole in the window at everything I didn't wish to sightsee. No matter how free the admissions were, the price wouldn't come in crowns, but my patience.
… But that's fine!
I'd come here for a reason, and that was certainly not to falter in plain view of foreign dignitaries!
"Very well, then. I thank you for the assistance. And for the macarons. It was a pleasure to meet you, Duchess Cadence. I hope for the opportunity for us to meet again in a more formal setting."
The Duchess reached out for another macaron.
"I'm afraid this is as formal as it gets," she said, her voice musing. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've always been partial to tales of dragons and princesses. I look forward to knowing yours as well."
I offered a polite smile, then a much delayed curtsy.
"... Is that so? Then I'm afraid I shall have to leave you wishing for more."
"Oh? Why is that?"
I turned to leave, but not before scooping up a handful of macarons.
"Because this will be the shortest journey in Ouzelia."
"Duchess Cadence. Your guests have arrived."
Pumph.
The sound of an object tossed against the door came in answer. Lady Uxna turned to me and bowed.
"The Duchess says she is most grateful for your time and invites you to enter her study."
"Thank you."
I offered a smile as the seasoned ogre maid departed.
A moment later, she paused to adjust a portrait I'd purposefully nudged along the way.
I was mildly impressed. While I had complaints about the use of burgundy carpets when it was tacitly only rolled out in anticipation for the most drunken of dignitaries, I had fewer qualms concerning the training of the castle staff.
Indeed, they were inconspicuous and quietly efficient. Only through my studious eyes and the fact I'd occasionally poke a curtain to a squeak of discomfort revealed the labour behind the upkeep.
Sadly, not even the most hospitable of servants could balance out the fact I was even here at all.
Yes … because right now, I was in the heart of a foreign castle.
To say this was a situation fraught with peril was to say sneezing in front of my etiquette teacher was only mildly hazardous. It wasn't. It was the most dangerous thing one could do. As was wading into an audience with a foreign duchess without my siblings to point to instead.
Even so, I wasn't above the challenge. And nor was my loyal handmaiden, whose wisdom concerning Witschblume and its ruler I could rely upon.
"Very well," I said, nodding towards Coppelia. "What can I expect of this Duchess, then?"
"No idea."
Hmm.
This was going to be one of those meetings, wasn't it?
"... Is that it?"
"Mmh~ this really wasn't part of the sightseeing itinerary. If we followed my plan, we'd be at the Cursed Ruins right now. Want to go afterwards?"
"I … I shall pass, thank you."
"Are you sure? Admission is free if you can dodge all the traps."
"Then I'll be all too delighted to experience it if I require a sudden escape free of cost. We've yet to arrive at that point. I hope to keep it that way. Is this Duchess not your local ruler?"
"Technically, sure. But she's never stuck her head into the library or dropped by during any of the family gatherings, either. I don't think she's ever even popped in to steal a jam tart."
I offered the look of puzzlement that deserved. Not least because stealing jam tarts was a rite of passage for young maidens everywhere. Even a family gathering was worth that.
"Excuse me? Why would she drop by a family gathering?"
"Oh, right. I'm pretty sure she's my cousin."
My mouth widened at once.
"Your cousin? … Coppelia, that is highly pertinent information! Why, we could use that to our advantage! How closely related, exactly? How many times removed? Which house branch? And what is the number of unexplained accidents before you would assume the seat as Witschblume's ruler?"
"Ahaha~" Coppelia waved my opportunism away. "It's not like that. I have a lot of cousins. It doesn't mean we all know each other. She's a clockwork doll. And I'm definitely not lined up for her job. "
My hopes deflated at once.
A shame. To have the ruler of a town famed for its berry harvests as part of my personal retinue would have been a wonderful boon. Yet perhaps this could still be salvaged.
Indeed, there was little reason why new bonds could not be forged.
I now officially knew two clockwork dolls. To one, I was a princess. To the other, I was a saviour. And now to this third, I could be both. Any missing dragon doubtless concerned her as well.
Thus … opportunity!
"Very well, then," I said with a confident smile. "Let us see what this Duchess is made of."
My loyal handmaiden enthusiastically pumped her fist in the air.
"Diplomacy~!"
"Yes, Coppelia. Diplomacy. And with not a single piece of strewn furniture involved."
She blinked at me.
"Soooooo … just things smaller than furniture?"
"No. Nothing at all will be dislodged from its original position."
"That doesn't sound very fun."
"We're not here to have fun. We're here to navigate a situation fraught with peril and to find a missing dragon as our reward. Remember–no matter how informal this meeting, all etiquette must be observed. And this goes for caution as well. We know little of this clockwork duchess, and even less of her mind."
"I think she doesn't like laundry."
"Yes, her wisdom has already shown itself. But wisdom also means cunning. We must be on guard."
"Okie~"
Coppelia gave a lazy smile. All the while not bothering to open the door for me.
I gestured towards it with my chin. When she began winding up her leg, I pushed the door myself, opting to display that in my kingdom, a princess was not so helpless that she could not even navigate her own entrance.
As it swung noiselessly inwards, I stepped through with trained grace.
Smile ready. Back straight. Hands clasped together. Emergency yawn prepared.
A moment later–
I realised none of them were needed.
In the court of diplomacy, every action spoke a thousand words. And yet in this instance, my entrance was drowned amidst a cacophony … for what spoke even louder than my entrance was the complete absence of anyone to meet me.
Neither a curtsy nor a sniffle was to be found.
For a moment, indignation filled my every pore.
Why, to be purposefully kept idling was nothing short of gruesome disrespect!
Here was a tactic my family employed as standard! But I was no weaselling merchant here to beg a copper crown from my father! I was a royal representative!
Yet as I surveyed a study which was lacking in all traditional aspects of a study, I saw no discreet door leading to a solar from which a duchess could unhurriedly stroll in while fanning the non-existent sweat from her face.
In fact … all I saw was a private chamber, complete with a large bed beneath a window with a basket-shaped hole in the glass.
Bewilderment struck me as I wondered whether I'd been mistakenly led into the Duchess's sleeping quarter. And then disbelief as I realised I very much had.
A pile of unkempt duvet began to wriggle.
A moment later … up rose an arm.
Like a drowning maiden seeking to be rescued, a frilled sleeve was caught by the streams of sunlight released through the broken window. The hand which peeked out slowly beckoned me closer.
My eyes studied for anything else to offer my attention towards.
There wasn't any. And so I slowly approached the arm … only to be met by the sight of a face poking out from a crumpled pile of bedsheets like a badger peeking its face beyond a den.
A girl younger than myself.
One whose proud eyes blinked at me through locks of hair as pale as snow. As she lay on her side, I spied the outline of a large key protruding from her back shaping the duvet.
"Greetings, Princess Juliette Contzen," she said, her tone business-like and imperious, no differently than were she sat upon a high chair. "I welcome you to the Duchy of Witschblume."
I offered a nod.
"Salutations … would you be the ruler of this town?"
"I am. You speak with Cadence Joyister Loventeidt. I am charged with the defence and prosperity of Witschblume and all its people. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me at short notice."
"You're welcome."
The Duchess nodded.
"Would you like a raisin brioche? It's conjured directly from the kitchen."
I glanced down at a plate upon a bedside table. A golden bun slathered in butter sat waiting.
"Thank you," I said as I offered it to Coppelia.
Immediately, the bun was replaced by a raspberry strudel, appearing with a tiny wisp of smoke.
That too vanished, plucked by a hand faster than a diving albatross. A glistening éclair took its place. And then a buttery croissant. And then a slice of mille-feuille. And then an entire stack of profiteroles.
Like an endless fountain of pastry, this diminutive plate warred against my loyal handmaiden's appetite, and then her curiosity as she continually piled desserts directly into the pouch by her waist. Only after a cry of grief swept into the chamber from a distressed chef did the plate stop instantly filling.
Yet when a single pink macaron appeared, the Duchess poached it like a chameleon grabbing a fly.
"I was waiting for that," she said as it vanished into her duvet den. "Hmm. Rhubarb flavour. Interesting."
My beautiful smile never wavered.
"... Excuse me, but I cannot help but notice you appear to be in bed."
"I am, yes."
"Are you ill, by any chance?"
"Yes. I suffer from a malady called Lady Uxna. She insists I do not get enough sunlight, despite the fact that it is irrelevant to my needs. Having no wish to endure her chiding, I am therefore obliging her request as I see fit."
Duchess Cadence blinked as the sunlight from the broken window grazed her chin, all the while she set fire to etiquette with the efficiency of a flaming tornado.
A notable opponent. I turned my smile to Coppelia.
"I require a croissant."
"Got it!~"
Coppelia opened her pouch. Out came a buttery croissant pinched from the conjuring plate. I took it, and then without looking, immediately started nibbling. Flakes of pastry began to drift down upon the lying figure of the clockwork duchess.
"It is my pleasure to meet you," I said with my mouth full. "Much has been said about the beauty of Witschblume. I see it was all understated."
"Then it appears I'm due a refund," she replied without fuss. "I ordered that lies concerning Witschblume's beauty be spread with no regards to shame. 15% of my economy is based on tourism. An infinite amount of desserts don't just conjure themselves."
She paused, then blew away some of the croissant flakes. She looked mildly amused.
"Hmm. Most princesses would be more vocally insulted by my current state."
"I'd never dream of this as an insult. It is only fit and proper that as ruler of this town, you are permitted to dictate the rules of etiquette."
"Oh?"
"A ruler should govern by example, and what better example than the ability to lounge while the kitchen staff work on your behalf? To do otherwise is a grave sin, for why should any subject seek to struggle if their thoughts of climbing the ladder to treason will not earn them such fruitful yields of slovenliness in turn?"
"Lady Uxna says otherwise."
"Lady Uxna is a retainer. I am a princess. And my words are wisdom born in the halls of enduring history."
The Duchess nodded.
Then, she reached out and offered approximately half a pink macaron.
"Would you like to try it?"
"Yes, please."
I accepted with a smile.
And thus–the intricacies of foreign diplomacy had been successfully navigated.
Duchess Cadence swallowed her half of the macaron, then brushed the croissant crumbs onto the floor.
"Now, then," she said matter-of-factly. "What is the calamity which brings you to my town? I can still hear the alarms ringing. It's been many years since I last had to deal with any princess related matters. And even longer where one hasn't been stolen. So tell me, if you would, of the tide of woe you bring."
I leaned down to help sweep some of the croissant crumbs from her duvet.
It was invigorating to spill it upon a different floor.
"I bring only the tide of my reassuring presence. Foul deeds flow into Ouzelia, and I am the ebb which will draw it back. You have a missing dragon."
"I do, now?" The Duchess raised an eyebrow. She paused as if to consider my words. "... Ah. I do have a dragon. Virudaax the Learned. Was he still alive?"
"Apparently so, for it is not a princess who has been stolen, but your draconic subject."
"Hmm. A curious phrase. I've little mind to consider that bookworm to be one of my own."
"Is he not a resident, only a stone's throw from this very castle?"
"Proximity means little to a dragon. A stone's throw and a shooting star is the same to their wings. The library this one lords over is a realm in itself. He pays no taxes, citing a litany of ancient tax exclusions nobody else but he understands. Other than sending me a birthday card each year, our interactions are few. I would be surprised if yours were more."
The Duchess blew away a strand of hair stuck to her lips.
"... So why does a missing dragon concern you?"
"I've important matters of contract to discuss with him. The sooner the better. As wonderful as these macarons are, I would rather return to my kingdom and ease the grief of my diplomats. Sadly, the librarians are unaware of where he might be or who had seized him."
"Because librarians have too much imagination and not enough knowledge of current events. If he has been stolen, then the culprits are as clear as the libel written in The Witschblume Times."
She nudged her face towards several bundles of parchment, each tied up like logs and sat before a fireplace waiting to consume them. I squinted at the nearest heading.
Duchess Cadence Now Most Popular Ruler In History!
"Disgusting, no?" she said, burrowing once more into her den. "I have a 102% approval rating. The dead literally rise to praise me. A day will come where the scales balance, Princess. And when it does, a missing dragon would be the kindest news. But you needn't be here to see it."
Fwip.
Out came a wad of parchment from beneath the duvet. The same as those destined for the hearth. Yet as I marvelled at someone whose approval rating was almost as high as mine, my eyes peered down to see the news a chin was prodding against.
"Cultists sighted outside Witschblume," I said, reading the tiny print.
"Dragon cultists," replied the Duchess. "Otherwise known as the modern plague."
I joined the Duchess in a cordial frown.
Dragon cultists.
They did not exist in the Kingdom of Tirea. A mercy I gratefully accepted. But that didn't mean their influence wasn't seen. They came in all colours and liveries. Sometimes as knights seeking to do good in their name. Sometimes as zealots speaking on behalf of those who did not even note their existence.
But any group large enough to make a voice meant power enough to cause mischief.
"Very well. And why would these themed brigands seek to steal a dragon?"
"The short answer is that they are dumb. The long answer is that since the signing of the Queensholme Accords, dragons have lived peacefully with the residents of this realm. They are creatures of law, even if sometimes they view the law with their own definition. Yet so long as we uphold our agreement in respect to their homes and boundaries, they too extend the courtesy. Not all agree with this unproblematic state of affairs."
"Wonderful. And I take it they've a hand in my missing dragon?"
"I would assume so. Coincidences are rarer than fogs without a murder in Ouzelia. That you would appear when they're seen scurrying like rats biting at the fringes of my town is no stroke of chance. Clearly, you are meant to rescue this dragon."
"No. I am here to have a conversation with a dragon. And depending on how agreeable he is to my unagreeable demands, I will decide whether or not he is to be rescued."
Suddenly, the Duchess broke into a smile.
Her very first this conversation.
"Then you'll require assistance. Particularly if cultists are involved. They worship dragons, yet they themselves are a particular brand of cockroaches, existing despite my best efforts."
I matched her smile by lifting my own.
"Then isn't it well I'm familiar with gently blowing away cockroaches into the breeze? I heard you have access to a heroine. Might I borrow her for directions?"
"You may. This is a problem which needs handling before the summer tourism boom. However, Elise Rowe is currently preoccupied and will be unavailable for a number of days."
I held back a groan.
Frankly, even a few hours was too much.
"Very well … and how many days is that, exactly? Less or more than a week?"
"287 days."
I tilted my head slightly, just about stopping my smile from catapulting all the way back to my kingdom.
"Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that?"
"287 days is when my heroine will be available again."
"Is … Is this how long it usually takes for her to complete her tasks?"
"No. It usually takes 1. Her current task is unlike her others."
"I see … well, no, I don't. I understand she might be busy. But this is a missing dragon. Is she perhaps rescuing a different missing dragon?"
"No. She's currently on holiday."
I placed my face in my palms.
"... Your heroine is on holiday?"
"An overdue holiday. Elise has failed to take a single day of her legally mandatory allowance since the day she picked up her sword. As Lady Uxna informs me I may be held personally liable should Elise lodge a formal grievance, I have backdated all her missing holiday time and made it a law that she is not allowed to return to Witschblume until she has spent it."
My grief was palpable.
This! This right here! This was why I didn't permit my servants holidays!
If a single marble bust in the Royal Villa failed to gleam enough to distract Duke Hallingsey's son when my mother and father conspired to have me meet him, then that was a tragedy!
This … This was less disastrous than that, but it was still a clear issue!
"Surely, that's not permitted? What if a calamity occurs?"
"It would require a deeply rude calamity to strike when a heroine is on holiday. Ouzelia is many things, but uncivil is not one of them. Rest assured, no Great Evil will rise while she is relaxing."
"This is more important than a Great Evil. It is my time. And I cannot put off my own busy schedule to wait for a heroine to finish lounging on a beach. Is this missing dragon not a concern?"
"It is unfortunate to the library, yes. But until his disappearance signals the end of the world, I have no obligation to recall Elise. Doing so runs its own dangers, of which I am loath to invite. My apologies, Princess, but my heroine is currently unavailable."
I took in a deep sigh.
"Very well. Is there a different heroine I can borrow?"
"Plenty, although none quite as good as Elise. And few inclined to rescue a dragon on behalf of Witschblume. They have their own problems. But not all require a heroine to solve. If you merely desire to know where this dragon is, then instead of finding a heroine, I suggest you find a seer. The Mad Prophet should do."
I raised my arms in exasperation.
"Who is the Mad Prophet?"
"A prophet who is mad."
Coppelia helpfully poked my delicate waist as my grief threatened to overwhelm me.
"Oooh, I've heard of the Mad Prophet!" she said excitedly. "He's completely bonkers! That's great!"
"W-Why is that great?!"
"The more nuts they are, the better their prophecies!"
The Duchess nodded in agreement.
"He is insane, but reputably so. He has a business only a short ride away, past the road east and the Witsching River. You can't miss him. Mostly since he'll know you're coming and so will be waiting. Any query concerning local cults suddenly bristling with stolen draconic power will do, I imagine."
She gestured through the hole in the window at everything I didn't wish to sightsee. No matter how free the admissions were, the price wouldn't come in crowns, but my patience.
… But that's fine!
I'd come here for a reason, and that was certainly not to falter in plain view of foreign dignitaries!
"Very well, then. I thank you for the assistance. And for the macarons. It was a pleasure to meet you, Duchess Cadence. I hope for the opportunity for us to meet again in a more formal setting."
The Duchess reached out for another macaron.
"I'm afraid this is as formal as it gets," she said, her voice musing. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've always been partial to tales of dragons and princesses. I look forward to knowing yours as well."
I offered a polite smile, then a much delayed curtsy.
"... Is that so? Then I'm afraid I shall have to leave you wishing for more."
"Oh? Why is that?"
I turned to leave, but not before scooping up a handful of macarons.
"Because this will be the shortest journey in Ouzelia."
- Location
- Argentina
Well, crossover avoided. Good thing as I have not read or plan to read the Heroine book.
It's okay! There is no requirement to read it. They are separate stories!
Chapter 293: Not A Moment Too Soon
The endless fields of berries were our escort as Witschblume faded into the distance.
All around us, sugary droplets as large as pears jingled against their vines. As a warm breeze carried its way across the dirt road, I caught snatches of every season and every colour. From summer redcurrants to winter yuleberries, if it grew, it existed. And if it existed, then it did so in Coppelia's mouth.
"Om … om … om … om …"
Skipping merrily alongside Apple as he bore me, a certain clockwork doll was flicking berries high into the air with practised motion.
They hovered for a moment, their skins still wet with dew before falling into the waiting jaws of oblivion. And so the cycle of life was repeated. Berry. Air. Mouth. An unbroken rainbow of gluttony joined occasionally by Apple as he sampled the local produce.
Indeed … it was a picturesque calm to match my gentle and demure nature.
Yet not for a single moment could I delude myself into believing that the swaying berries were as sweet as the falling apples in my orchard. Not only because I refused to forage like a wild badger. But also because I refused to do it while there were witnesses.
"Haah … haaaah … haaaah …"
"Hurry … we're almost there … hurry!"
"Don't slow down! We've almost made it!"
As my hand reached out to inspect a dangling strawberry for research purposes, I snapped back and busied myself with toying with the ends of my hair instead.
I needn't have bothered. The chorus of breathless women had no eyes for me. A few tossed baskets and bags of produce to the wayside, abandoning even the smallest weight to hurry themselves past.
Some, however, abandoned things that were slightly larger.
"Mother, I … ahh–"
Amidst the gaggle of women rushing past with desperation upon their faces and sweat trailing from their brows, a lone girl stumbled and fell, her grasp breaking free from her mother's.
She looked up with dirt caking her shins and tears swelling her face. The mother stepped towards her, hesitated, then turned and ran, tears flying behind her as her child was left as abandoned as the strewn potatoes.
I immediately tugged Apple to a halt, then leaned down towards the child. Hope filled her eyes as she reached up to me. I offered a nod and a smile, then reached past her and fixed her collar before tugging Apple onwards again.
A scene of panicked fleeing.
Yet as I turned to glance behind my shoulder, I saw neither a burning village nor a baron sneezing wetly into a handkerchief. Witschblume Castle's white walls still overlooked a town filled with revelry. And yet those who hurried past did so in an unending line, chased by invisible hounds.
I looked on in puzzlement.
"Coppelia?"
"Mhhm? Whaftsit?"
I duly waited a moment as Coppelia swallowed all she'd hoarded in her mouth like a woodland squirrel, then pointed towards the fleeing commoners.
"This is the sixth group of peasants attempting to escape Witschblume … by any chance, did you leave something behind?"
Coppelia opened up her pouch. As her hand delved into the very bottom, a sinister aura of twisting darkness almost threatened to escape as she scooped something up.
"Nope," she said, closing her pouch with a bright smile.
I nodded, all the while setting my mind to work on ignoring what I'd just seen.
One of these days, I'd know what things Coppelia kept in her pouch. And that would be when I heard about it via a brief note that a corner of the world had just mysteriously vanished into the abyss.
"How strange. I see nothing which warrants such a desperate escape. Is this a practice drill?"
"Probably not. Too much effort. Not enough screaming. During our practice drills, you either calmly make your way to the designated escape point or stand still and scream loudly. Most choose to scream."
"Is practising screaming beneficial for navigating a crisis?"
"Sure. Escaping is tiring work. You have to climb stuff, sweat and probably still kick the bucket. But if you just stand still and scream, someone's bound to come rescue you."
"That hardly seems fair. If everyone is screaming, how will the princesses be rescued first?"
"They don't. The princesses always come last."
I gasped, my hands covering my lips and the strawberry hidden in my mouth.
"Thasch ish abominable!" I swallowed in outrage. "Why would princesses, rare enough as they are, be ever considered last?"
Coppelia giggled, arms out as she pirouetted on the spot.
"Naturally, that's when the escape will be the most impressive!"
"Wha … that is appalling! Princesses are not show horses leaping through flames!"
"I mean, it's not always flames. Sometimes it's heights. In fact, definitely try not to be in a tower when a calamity occurs. You'll probably land in a hero's arms, but nobody talks about how many broken bones that kind of last second rescue involves."
"Nobody shall talk about any last second rescue. As humorous as it is to shatter the arms of any hoodlum who dares to think they can carry me, the only escape I intend to make is from Ouzelia."
"That's going to be a really long jump."
I wrinkled my nose as I looked ahead.
"Not if I begin now."
Coppelia only wore a look of amusement, doubtless already having seen what I did.
But just in case either of us failed to see it, there was no avoiding that all too familiar noise in the distance. One I sorely hoped I was mistaken about.
The commoners, true to their diligent training in the event a princess was not here to save them, were each in the midst of their finest scream.
As Apple approached, I heard it like a gathering din in the distance, greater than any thunder. Here was a rising squall like the sound of a thousand whistling kettles out of tune.
Because whether in my kingdom or this realm of oddballs, it was a given that just like my kindness, some things remained constant.
The wild cheering of maidens being one of them.
Indeed … I knew what to expect even before I saw them.
Soon, I tugged Apple to a halt as the path before me was obstructed by every damsel to have rushed past me. Young or old, all the women of Witschblume had gathered with the single-minded efficiency of a flock of lambs as they blocked passage to a narrow bridge across a river I needed to cross.
And the reason was obvious.
Why, it was the same reason any time a town filled with maidens ventured out en masse.
"Kywaaaaaaaaah~"
"He looked at me! Get me the wedding bouquet! Get the bouquet now!"
"Even his horse is majestic! I feel so lucky!"
Yes.
A knight in shining armour.
Sat upon a white destrier as polished as marble, a knight resplendent in silver and falling petals sat absorbing the attention of all his onlookers.
Eschewing the need for a helmet, he allowed only the shearing gleam of his smile, his white teeth and the golden locks of his hair to blind his opponents instead. Likely by causing them to remove their own eyes. The very picture of a knight, his cheeks so smooth even oil was coarser.
And here he was, his very presence a public nuisance.
Readying my rolling eyes, I tugged Apple's reins and pushed him onwards. Or I did, until a chain link of several arms fenced themselves before us.
I pulled Apple to a stop, charitably deciding not to cause a diplomatic incident … yet.
"Where are you going?" asked a maiden in a breathless tone, her look of horror as morbid as my own.
I raised my arms in exasperation.
Why, the absolute state of Ouzelia! Here it wasn't brigands which accosted me, but senseless maidens! A foe so dauntless even I was tempted to flee at once!
"Where am I going?" I pointed ahead. "I am going about my day, which is to pass that bridge."
"You can't."
"Why can I not?"
"Sir Gardrin is there."
I looked at the mounted knight.
Still as a statue, he joyfully monopolised the wooden bridge. And though he sent no acknowledgement to the shrieking maidens forming a semi-circle before the first steps, he was content to bask in their adoration all the same.
"Yes? Is he guarding this bridge? Does his lord own it?"
"No, this bridge belongs to WItschblume."
"Excellent. A knight loitering on public infrastructure. Just the sort of thing I will ignore. Now if you'll please excuse me–"
I waited. The maidens chained together more.
"You cannot approach Sir Gardrin."
"I have no intention of approaching him. I would rather melt my face in a witch's cauldron. Be that as it may, I must pass him nevertheless."
"Nobody is allowed near Sir Gardrin. He is like a snowflower in bloom. To even pass him will see his petals torn and spoiled."
I let out a groan. Of all the public faux pas I could commit, ignoring the whims of these maidens wasn't one I could even enjoy.
"Rest assured, I'll endeavour to pass by without so much as a glance towards his petals. Now, excuse me."
I tugged Apple onwards.
Relenting against his snort as much as his stride, the gaggle of irate women begrudgingly made way. Soon, the din of discontent at my back was joined by the sound of hooves upon a wooden bridge.
And then–
"Hold, fair maiden. For what reason do you seek to cross the Witsching River?"
I finally rolled my eyes, then added a sigh for good measure. For knights blinded by their own sense of worth, a single cue wasn't enough.
"I have an appointment with a mad prophet. I'm told he is nearby."
"A mad prophet or the Mad Prophet?"
I looked at Coppelia.
"The Mad Prophet. We only go for premium advice. Important business."
"Ah, in that case, I believe the Mad Prophet is just past the hill further beyond the road. He has a cottage. You can't miss him."
"Thank you," I said.
I offered a curt nod, then nudged Apple to proceed.
He did. All the way until a knight upon a white horse steered himself before me. I tugged Apple to go around. He steered before me again. The only thing that could stop Apple. Another horse.
At last, I stopped rolling my eyes long enough to offer my least impressed expression instead.
"Excuse me," I said politely. "But your horse is obstructing passage. Please move."
"It would be my pleasure," replied the knight without actually moving. "However, before I do so, I would ask what purpose you claim for wishing to visit the Mad Prophet. Not idly do the people of this land seek the wisdom of those who spin madness as their profession."
"There is not a single blemishless pore on my skin which is idling, sir. Each moment I spend beneath this sky is a moment I fear for my sanctity."
"Then it is just as well that I am here." He offered a bow, coming far too close to me. "Sir Gardrin Pavont, Knight of the Cresting Sun, at your service."
"Excellent. I accept your service and dismiss you at once. I've no need of a stableboy. Should I do, I will call upon you from a distance."
The knight gave a hearty chuckle.
"I am more than a stableboy. Just as you are more than a fair maiden. I see a tale spun about you as clear as that simplest of rings you wear, of which so few are seen in this land of wonders. I would ask what an adventurer from afar has cause to be in the Fabled Realm of Ouzelia."
"My business is not your concern, Sir …"
"Sir Gardrin Pavont, Knight of the–"
"Yes, that. Know only that I go as I please, and I've no need of a bard to sing flattery for me when a simple reflection can do."
The knight looked bemused.
"I sing well and flatter better, but I am no bard."
And then he lifted by an inch the sword from his sheath. The blade was wreathed in light like a shimmering kaleidoscope.
I raised an eyebrow.
My, wasn't I fortunate?
Not just a knight.
But a hero.
Perhaps it was true what they said. They only arrived when they were needed.
A curious thing, then.
Because far from offering me directions to the nearest dragon, he was still very much blocking my way.
All around us, sugary droplets as large as pears jingled against their vines. As a warm breeze carried its way across the dirt road, I caught snatches of every season and every colour. From summer redcurrants to winter yuleberries, if it grew, it existed. And if it existed, then it did so in Coppelia's mouth.
"Om … om … om … om …"
Skipping merrily alongside Apple as he bore me, a certain clockwork doll was flicking berries high into the air with practised motion.
They hovered for a moment, their skins still wet with dew before falling into the waiting jaws of oblivion. And so the cycle of life was repeated. Berry. Air. Mouth. An unbroken rainbow of gluttony joined occasionally by Apple as he sampled the local produce.
Indeed … it was a picturesque calm to match my gentle and demure nature.
Yet not for a single moment could I delude myself into believing that the swaying berries were as sweet as the falling apples in my orchard. Not only because I refused to forage like a wild badger. But also because I refused to do it while there were witnesses.
"Haah … haaaah … haaaah …"
"Hurry … we're almost there … hurry!"
"Don't slow down! We've almost made it!"
As my hand reached out to inspect a dangling strawberry for research purposes, I snapped back and busied myself with toying with the ends of my hair instead.
I needn't have bothered. The chorus of breathless women had no eyes for me. A few tossed baskets and bags of produce to the wayside, abandoning even the smallest weight to hurry themselves past.
Some, however, abandoned things that were slightly larger.
"Mother, I … ahh–"
Amidst the gaggle of women rushing past with desperation upon their faces and sweat trailing from their brows, a lone girl stumbled and fell, her grasp breaking free from her mother's.
She looked up with dirt caking her shins and tears swelling her face. The mother stepped towards her, hesitated, then turned and ran, tears flying behind her as her child was left as abandoned as the strewn potatoes.
I immediately tugged Apple to a halt, then leaned down towards the child. Hope filled her eyes as she reached up to me. I offered a nod and a smile, then reached past her and fixed her collar before tugging Apple onwards again.
A scene of panicked fleeing.
Yet as I turned to glance behind my shoulder, I saw neither a burning village nor a baron sneezing wetly into a handkerchief. Witschblume Castle's white walls still overlooked a town filled with revelry. And yet those who hurried past did so in an unending line, chased by invisible hounds.
I looked on in puzzlement.
"Coppelia?"
"Mhhm? Whaftsit?"
I duly waited a moment as Coppelia swallowed all she'd hoarded in her mouth like a woodland squirrel, then pointed towards the fleeing commoners.
"This is the sixth group of peasants attempting to escape Witschblume … by any chance, did you leave something behind?"
Coppelia opened up her pouch. As her hand delved into the very bottom, a sinister aura of twisting darkness almost threatened to escape as she scooped something up.
"Nope," she said, closing her pouch with a bright smile.
I nodded, all the while setting my mind to work on ignoring what I'd just seen.
One of these days, I'd know what things Coppelia kept in her pouch. And that would be when I heard about it via a brief note that a corner of the world had just mysteriously vanished into the abyss.
"How strange. I see nothing which warrants such a desperate escape. Is this a practice drill?"
"Probably not. Too much effort. Not enough screaming. During our practice drills, you either calmly make your way to the designated escape point or stand still and scream loudly. Most choose to scream."
"Is practising screaming beneficial for navigating a crisis?"
"Sure. Escaping is tiring work. You have to climb stuff, sweat and probably still kick the bucket. But if you just stand still and scream, someone's bound to come rescue you."
"That hardly seems fair. If everyone is screaming, how will the princesses be rescued first?"
"They don't. The princesses always come last."
I gasped, my hands covering my lips and the strawberry hidden in my mouth.
"Thasch ish abominable!" I swallowed in outrage. "Why would princesses, rare enough as they are, be ever considered last?"
Coppelia giggled, arms out as she pirouetted on the spot.
"Naturally, that's when the escape will be the most impressive!"
"Wha … that is appalling! Princesses are not show horses leaping through flames!"
"I mean, it's not always flames. Sometimes it's heights. In fact, definitely try not to be in a tower when a calamity occurs. You'll probably land in a hero's arms, but nobody talks about how many broken bones that kind of last second rescue involves."
"Nobody shall talk about any last second rescue. As humorous as it is to shatter the arms of any hoodlum who dares to think they can carry me, the only escape I intend to make is from Ouzelia."
"That's going to be a really long jump."
I wrinkled my nose as I looked ahead.
"Not if I begin now."
Coppelia only wore a look of amusement, doubtless already having seen what I did.
But just in case either of us failed to see it, there was no avoiding that all too familiar noise in the distance. One I sorely hoped I was mistaken about.
The commoners, true to their diligent training in the event a princess was not here to save them, were each in the midst of their finest scream.
As Apple approached, I heard it like a gathering din in the distance, greater than any thunder. Here was a rising squall like the sound of a thousand whistling kettles out of tune.
Because whether in my kingdom or this realm of oddballs, it was a given that just like my kindness, some things remained constant.
The wild cheering of maidens being one of them.
Indeed … I knew what to expect even before I saw them.
Soon, I tugged Apple to a halt as the path before me was obstructed by every damsel to have rushed past me. Young or old, all the women of Witschblume had gathered with the single-minded efficiency of a flock of lambs as they blocked passage to a narrow bridge across a river I needed to cross.
And the reason was obvious.
Why, it was the same reason any time a town filled with maidens ventured out en masse.
"Kywaaaaaaaaah~"
"He looked at me! Get me the wedding bouquet! Get the bouquet now!"
"Even his horse is majestic! I feel so lucky!"
Yes.
A knight in shining armour.
Sat upon a white destrier as polished as marble, a knight resplendent in silver and falling petals sat absorbing the attention of all his onlookers.
Eschewing the need for a helmet, he allowed only the shearing gleam of his smile, his white teeth and the golden locks of his hair to blind his opponents instead. Likely by causing them to remove their own eyes. The very picture of a knight, his cheeks so smooth even oil was coarser.
And here he was, his very presence a public nuisance.
Readying my rolling eyes, I tugged Apple's reins and pushed him onwards. Or I did, until a chain link of several arms fenced themselves before us.
I pulled Apple to a stop, charitably deciding not to cause a diplomatic incident … yet.
"Where are you going?" asked a maiden in a breathless tone, her look of horror as morbid as my own.
I raised my arms in exasperation.
Why, the absolute state of Ouzelia! Here it wasn't brigands which accosted me, but senseless maidens! A foe so dauntless even I was tempted to flee at once!
"Where am I going?" I pointed ahead. "I am going about my day, which is to pass that bridge."
"You can't."
"Why can I not?"
"Sir Gardrin is there."
I looked at the mounted knight.
Still as a statue, he joyfully monopolised the wooden bridge. And though he sent no acknowledgement to the shrieking maidens forming a semi-circle before the first steps, he was content to bask in their adoration all the same.
"Yes? Is he guarding this bridge? Does his lord own it?"
"No, this bridge belongs to WItschblume."
"Excellent. A knight loitering on public infrastructure. Just the sort of thing I will ignore. Now if you'll please excuse me–"
I waited. The maidens chained together more.
"You cannot approach Sir Gardrin."
"I have no intention of approaching him. I would rather melt my face in a witch's cauldron. Be that as it may, I must pass him nevertheless."
"Nobody is allowed near Sir Gardrin. He is like a snowflower in bloom. To even pass him will see his petals torn and spoiled."
I let out a groan. Of all the public faux pas I could commit, ignoring the whims of these maidens wasn't one I could even enjoy.
"Rest assured, I'll endeavour to pass by without so much as a glance towards his petals. Now, excuse me."
I tugged Apple onwards.
Relenting against his snort as much as his stride, the gaggle of irate women begrudgingly made way. Soon, the din of discontent at my back was joined by the sound of hooves upon a wooden bridge.
And then–
"Hold, fair maiden. For what reason do you seek to cross the Witsching River?"
I finally rolled my eyes, then added a sigh for good measure. For knights blinded by their own sense of worth, a single cue wasn't enough.
"I have an appointment with a mad prophet. I'm told he is nearby."
"A mad prophet or the Mad Prophet?"
I looked at Coppelia.
"The Mad Prophet. We only go for premium advice. Important business."
"Ah, in that case, I believe the Mad Prophet is just past the hill further beyond the road. He has a cottage. You can't miss him."
"Thank you," I said.
I offered a curt nod, then nudged Apple to proceed.
He did. All the way until a knight upon a white horse steered himself before me. I tugged Apple to go around. He steered before me again. The only thing that could stop Apple. Another horse.
At last, I stopped rolling my eyes long enough to offer my least impressed expression instead.
"Excuse me," I said politely. "But your horse is obstructing passage. Please move."
"It would be my pleasure," replied the knight without actually moving. "However, before I do so, I would ask what purpose you claim for wishing to visit the Mad Prophet. Not idly do the people of this land seek the wisdom of those who spin madness as their profession."
"There is not a single blemishless pore on my skin which is idling, sir. Each moment I spend beneath this sky is a moment I fear for my sanctity."
"Then it is just as well that I am here." He offered a bow, coming far too close to me. "Sir Gardrin Pavont, Knight of the Cresting Sun, at your service."
"Excellent. I accept your service and dismiss you at once. I've no need of a stableboy. Should I do, I will call upon you from a distance."
The knight gave a hearty chuckle.
"I am more than a stableboy. Just as you are more than a fair maiden. I see a tale spun about you as clear as that simplest of rings you wear, of which so few are seen in this land of wonders. I would ask what an adventurer from afar has cause to be in the Fabled Realm of Ouzelia."
"My business is not your concern, Sir …"
"Sir Gardrin Pavont, Knight of the–"
"Yes, that. Know only that I go as I please, and I've no need of a bard to sing flattery for me when a simple reflection can do."
The knight looked bemused.
"I sing well and flatter better, but I am no bard."
And then he lifted by an inch the sword from his sheath. The blade was wreathed in light like a shimmering kaleidoscope.
I raised an eyebrow.
My, wasn't I fortunate?
Not just a knight.
But a hero.
Perhaps it was true what they said. They only arrived when they were needed.
A curious thing, then.
Because far from offering me directions to the nearest dragon, he was still very much blocking my way.
- Location
- Argentina
Wow that's really dark.
And highty inconvenient!
"YOU STUPID KNIGHT SMILED AT MY SON AND CAUSED HIM TO LOSE HIS EYES! I DEMAND YOU!"
Then a set of legal papers was stuck in the Queen's hair.
"YOU HAVE BEEN SERVED! HAVE A GOOD DAY AND LONG LIVE THE QUEEN! I WILL SEE YOU IN COURT!"
"Sir Rupert, what have you told you about smiling?"
"Uh... to never to do so unless I am ordered to?"
"Yes Rupert, if you weren't my third cousin in my mother's side I would already have got you executed. This is the third lawsuit this month!"
"If I may ask your highness, why do you wear a hair in a pompadour? People seem to love to stick things there, including sharp objects. Also I have no clue how the crown even stays on top of that thing."
"Sir Rupert, I do so so people use sharp things in my hair and not on my body. Even assassins don't seem to be able to resist to target it first."
"It is some king of magical curse my queen?"
"Magical curse? No, the people in our lovely Kingdom just has a thing about hair. And I was quite sure we finally had clean drinking water after decades of working on proper plumbing and drainage systems all over the kingdom."
'The lead in the candy may be to blame?"
"Bah! Only the tourists buy lead candy! Same with hats clearly labelled as having mercury and those stupid lead pipes we export to... what was the name of that place again? States of something?"
"I have no clue my queen, my job is to look pretty and act as a meatshield while the actually competent but less handsome knights do their jobs."
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Chapter 294: Heroic Considerations
The light diminished as the knight prodded his sword back into its sheath.
"Allow me to provide my other title," he said, his smile twinkling in place of his weapon. "Although I am known far and wide as the Knight of the Cresting Sun, those from my hometown of Heizholm simply refer to me as their hero."
I raised an eyebrow in doubt.
In all the many minutes I'd spent devising my meticulous scheme to turn farm boys into heroes, few were spent considering how to outfit them. After all, the only armour they needed was luck and blind persistence.
Yet here was a self-proclaimed hero outfitted with armour so polished that other knights would use it as a mirror.
"You are a hero of Ouzelia?"
"I am, indeed." He gestured towards himself good-naturedly. "Do I not look the part?"
"I confess I expected the heroes of Ouzelia to involve more … overalls."
The man gave a well-meaning chuckle.
"We have rugged heroes and heroines aplenty, if that is what you mean. Many of us are drawn from the humblest beginnings, our swords found buried in soil or beneath a floorboard. But we represent all the people, and mine was ever a family of knights."
He patted the weapon by his side.
"Incidentally, my sword was gifted to me by a water nymph in a lake."
I barely held back a groan.
To allow myself to be aided by any knight not my own was already highly unorthodox. But I could already tell that this one would have me rolling my eyes so much it'd be impossible to follow in a straight line.
Even so!
If it was for the sake of hastening my return to my blooming hydrangeas, then I could bear any knightley pompousness … within reason … of which the quantity had yet to be decided.
"Very well, then," I said, massaging my ears for the endless smalltalk ahead. "I shall allow you to assist me."
"Oh? And what assistance might I render such a fair maiden from afar?"
"I need to find a missing dragon."
The hero merely nodded, no differently than had I informed him I required his back as a footstool.
"Is that so? Which missing dragon would this be, then?"
"Coppelia?"
"The big guy~"
"There you have it. The big guy. He's in possession of a large and poorly hidden secret library located nearby. Do you know where he might be found?"
"I'm afraid I'm unaware of any missing dragons or secret libraries nearby. But I'm certain I'd be able to find this missing gentleman, wherever he might now be. Even those with wings leave tracks, provided one searches keen enough."
"Excellent. When might you be able to begin?"
The hero offered a casual glance around at the bridge he was guarding against the same maidens he was luring away from their work.
"Well, I suppose I could set off once my immediate tasks are complete. My horse still needs grooming. And judging by the state of yours, that would be the first port of call for where a hero is needed."
"I beg your pardon!" I said, thoroughly aghast. "Apple does not need grooming! More specifically, he does not need grooming by anyone whose hands were not trained anywhere less than a royal stables! I've looked inside his shaggy mane. Why, my eyes are still trying to unentangle themselves. I do not have time to wait!"
"A pressing quest, I see. As most involving dragons are."
The hero gave an unnecessary flick of his golden hair. More and more, I was already regretting my choice.
"Yet before I choose to seek a missing dragon, I would first need to know your purpose for finding him. A necessary formality, I hope you understand. Heroes in the past used to ask no questions, but we were often rewarded with the schemes of the wicked than the gratitude of the dispossessed."
"Then you've little to fear. My goals are as pure as my smile."
"You are not smiling, ma'am."
"No. But I will be once I've successfully extorted … negotiated … no, extorted this dragon. And so shall you, for that matter. A grateful dragon will doubtless be generous. And this is one who needs rescuing from the claws of a wicked cult."
"Ah." The hero offered a simple nod. "So that's what it is."
I waited for some measure of surprise. Of perhaps at least one other question regarding why I would wish to rescue a missing dragon instead of celebrating that there was now one fewer to kidnap me.
Nothing came.
"Do you wish to make any additional queries … ?"
"This is more than enough. A dragon was abducted by a cult. And now a maiden wishes to see this evil deed undone."
"Well, yes, I suppose that is the brief of it. Will you be able to provide directions?"
"I am indeed able."
"Wonderful" I gave my hands a tidy clap, offering a morsel of the smile all heroes cherished to see as a reward. "In that case, shall we set off at once?"
"No."
"... Do you need to groom your horse?"
"Yes. But that's not the reason. I'm afraid I have no jurisdiction over Witschblume. For this missing dragon, you would need to find Elise Rowe."
I palmed my face.
For a moment, I merely stayed there, relishing in the warmth of darkness.
"Elise Rowe is on holiday," I said as I slowly looked up. "For 287 days."
"Really?" The knight blinked in surprise. "Goodness, that's not a lot, is it?"
"E-Excuse me?! How many days in a year are there in Ouzelia?!"
"Not enough to ensure the protectors of the realm are well rested. If Miss Rowe is on holiday, then this is all the more reason not to lend my assistance. To be seen as taking advantage of her absence would mean the ruin of my reputation."
"Surely that is irrelevant! If the current heroine is unavailable, others need to take her place!"
The self-proclaimed hero shook his head.
"Others most certainly do not. It would set a dangerous precedent. I'd never find rest again if calamities knew a different hero would simply step in when I was away. So with my apologies, I must decline this quest."
Of all the expressions of horror I possessed, none were enough for this.
A knight … and a hero, was rejecting the opportunity to be my unpaid labour?!
"Y-You can decline quests?! From me?!"
"Of course." He raised his palms in apology. "Heroes are in high demand and in short supply. Although I wish I could help every maiden in need, I must use my time pragmatically."
"You are loitering on public infrastructure!"
"No. I am meeting a stranger from afar. One whose presence demanded my immediate attention. I now have a cherry bakewell slowly melting into a rather unappetising coulis, and a very sweaty horse."
I looked at the horse in question. There wasn't a drop of sweat to be found.
Meaning, of course, there should be no issue with it bearing its rider back where it apparently had the ability to do more than needlessly harass princesses on bridges.
"Ugh. Very well, then," I said, already looking past the man's insufficiently apologetic expression. "If you will not assist, then I shall go see if this Mad Prophet can offer his insight instead."
I tugged on Apple to go around.
Once again, the man set his steed before me like a particularly shiny boulder.
"Excuse me … but why are you still obstructing the bridge?"
"My apologies, fair maiden. But you must not rescue this dragon."
I took a deep breath, then peered up at the pearly blue sky.
So pretty. So far. So peaceful. Up there, no failed heroes or the shrieking of maidens could reach me.
And then I brought myself slowly back down.
"... Very well. Why must I not rescue this dragon?"
"Because doing so would contravene the rules of understanding which both you and I know."
"Excuse me? What rules of understanding? This is Ouzelia. There are no rules."
"There are plenty of rules. One must use a knife and fork when eating with tableware, for example."
"To eat using cutlery is as far as your civilisation has reached?!"
"No. We also have a chaotic, but established system through which heroes and heroines operate to ward away the ills of the land. And so here in the Fabled Realm, the propositions of the Adventurer's Guild have been rebuffed repeatedly … as you doubtless know. I have no jurisdiction in Witschblume. But you have none in Ouzelia. This is why I am here."
I raised my arms in exasperation.
"This is the reason you're accosting me?"
"I'm merely ascertaining facts," he said. "The Adventurer's Guild has no presence in Ouzelia. To therefore find one of their own seeking to undertake a task very much considered a quest for heroes is both curious and unnecessary. I'm certain that after 287 days, Miss Rowe will see your dragon safe and sound."
"That is not good enough!" I pointed somewhere to the horizon. "I need to see this dragon shedding tears of gratitude! This cannot be done if I'm not present to receive them!"
The man appeared torn between bemusement and doubt.
"I'm uncertain if dragons can shed tears. And I fear the process of discovering it would be an unwelcome prospect."
"Unwelcome?! Why, I am volunteering to do your job for you–with nothing in return other than the massive amounts of gold and gemstones I will extort for my time!"
Beside me, Coppelia let out a discreetly hacking cough.
"–And also for a matter concerning my loyal handmaiden, yes."
The hero was unmoved. Literally so.
Far from leaping off his horse in joy that I was saving him a dragon to rescue, he merely tapped idly at his reins.
"As generous in deed and in spirit as the Adventurer's Guild claims their members to be. To offer your own time to do this with only the rewards you yourself might claim is a far cry from the bureaucracy of modern adventurers. And so I will be frank–your presence endangers our livelihood."
The knight's smile didn't fade. But his cheeks did harden, the oil shifting with the skin.
My response was to point directly at his nose, forcing him to lean away.
"I am not part of whatever industrial dispute you have with the Adventurer's Guild! I am here for my own purposes, and should you claim even a whiff of either chivalry or heroism, you will do all you can to ensure my task is made simpler! That you would block my path is an outrage to your profession!"
The hero paused.
Then, after a moment, his shoulders and even his golden locks drooped. The genial smile turned into one of defeat. And a look of shame came upon him.
"You are right. To stand in the way of a heroic deed is an appalling example. What right do we in this realm have to deny those who would lend their valour? To do such a thing is to defeat all that we stand for. I offer my apologies, and hope you will not hold this against the good people of this land."
I leaned away slightly, my lips tightly pursed.
"... Yes, well, as long as you do not bar my way, this is all that is important."
"Of course."
The hero nodded seriously.
And then he leaned down and reached into a small saddlebag. Out came an even smaller bag. One which jingled with the tinkling of coins.
He offered it out to me. I returned the gesture with a tilt of my head.
"Excuse me, but are you offering to reimburse my travel expenses?"
"No. It is your reward."
"For what?"
"For your assistance in informing us of a missing dragon."
He smiled. I smiled as well.
And then I accepted the small bag of coins, before tipping its contents into my bottomless pouch.
"Now, I trust that will be all?" said the hero cheerfully.
"Indeed. It was a delight to meet you." I offered a polite nod. Then nudged Apple onwards. "Now, please excuse me."
The man did not, in fact, excuse me.
"Ma'am, I just gave you gold."
"And I just took it. As payment for attempted bribery."
His regret came in the form of a further delve into his saddlebags. Out came a second bag.
I was appalled … as was Coppelia, who stepped up to roundly point at the shameless charlatan.
"How dare you!" she said, a rare scowl creasing her expression. "To attempt to pay off this fair maiden is an insult unworthy of any of us!"
Coppelia!
Of course, this was her homeland's reputation being desecrated! She would not stand for such sullying!
"This is not any adventurer!" she said, gesturing passionately to me. "This is an A-rank adventurer! That means her bribery rates are higher!"
"C-Coppelia?!"
Suddenly, the knight's posture stiffened. He appraised me with narrowing eyes.
"An A-rank adventurer? … I see. Then it's as I suspected. You were deliberately sent here. And yet I'm afraid I lack the funds to properly reimburse someone whose wealth likely exceeds mine. Heroism is not a profession which rewards crowns, but gratitude. And so I must ask firmly that you pay heed to wisdom and allow others to tend to this dragon problem."
I matched his upright posture, if only to prevent the natural trembling as I battled the shame.
"O-Oh? And what will you do? Bar me from performing my deeds of charity?"
Thus, I raised my hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
"Ohohoho … you are a hero bound by naivety and a knight chained by chivalry. I am the fairest maiden of any land. You are simply not permitted to stop me. To forcibly do so would be a travesty."
The man rolled his shoulders.
"True," he said, offering a gentlemanly smile as worthless as the pittance he considered a bribe. "Which is why this will instead be a test to ensure you are worthy to brave the dangers of Ouzelia. After all, I cannot in good conscience allow you to pass, knowing what lies ahead."
He allowed my appalled expression to fully set.
And then–
A sword boasting enough radiance to burn away the sun was drawn from its sheath.
"Allow me to provide my other title," he said, his smile twinkling in place of his weapon. "Although I am known far and wide as the Knight of the Cresting Sun, those from my hometown of Heizholm simply refer to me as their hero."
I raised an eyebrow in doubt.
In all the many minutes I'd spent devising my meticulous scheme to turn farm boys into heroes, few were spent considering how to outfit them. After all, the only armour they needed was luck and blind persistence.
Yet here was a self-proclaimed hero outfitted with armour so polished that other knights would use it as a mirror.
"You are a hero of Ouzelia?"
"I am, indeed." He gestured towards himself good-naturedly. "Do I not look the part?"
"I confess I expected the heroes of Ouzelia to involve more … overalls."
The man gave a well-meaning chuckle.
"We have rugged heroes and heroines aplenty, if that is what you mean. Many of us are drawn from the humblest beginnings, our swords found buried in soil or beneath a floorboard. But we represent all the people, and mine was ever a family of knights."
He patted the weapon by his side.
"Incidentally, my sword was gifted to me by a water nymph in a lake."
I barely held back a groan.
To allow myself to be aided by any knight not my own was already highly unorthodox. But I could already tell that this one would have me rolling my eyes so much it'd be impossible to follow in a straight line.
Even so!
If it was for the sake of hastening my return to my blooming hydrangeas, then I could bear any knightley pompousness … within reason … of which the quantity had yet to be decided.
"Very well, then," I said, massaging my ears for the endless smalltalk ahead. "I shall allow you to assist me."
"Oh? And what assistance might I render such a fair maiden from afar?"
"I need to find a missing dragon."
The hero merely nodded, no differently than had I informed him I required his back as a footstool.
"Is that so? Which missing dragon would this be, then?"
"Coppelia?"
"The big guy~"
"There you have it. The big guy. He's in possession of a large and poorly hidden secret library located nearby. Do you know where he might be found?"
"I'm afraid I'm unaware of any missing dragons or secret libraries nearby. But I'm certain I'd be able to find this missing gentleman, wherever he might now be. Even those with wings leave tracks, provided one searches keen enough."
"Excellent. When might you be able to begin?"
The hero offered a casual glance around at the bridge he was guarding against the same maidens he was luring away from their work.
"Well, I suppose I could set off once my immediate tasks are complete. My horse still needs grooming. And judging by the state of yours, that would be the first port of call for where a hero is needed."
"I beg your pardon!" I said, thoroughly aghast. "Apple does not need grooming! More specifically, he does not need grooming by anyone whose hands were not trained anywhere less than a royal stables! I've looked inside his shaggy mane. Why, my eyes are still trying to unentangle themselves. I do not have time to wait!"
"A pressing quest, I see. As most involving dragons are."
The hero gave an unnecessary flick of his golden hair. More and more, I was already regretting my choice.
"Yet before I choose to seek a missing dragon, I would first need to know your purpose for finding him. A necessary formality, I hope you understand. Heroes in the past used to ask no questions, but we were often rewarded with the schemes of the wicked than the gratitude of the dispossessed."
"Then you've little to fear. My goals are as pure as my smile."
"You are not smiling, ma'am."
"No. But I will be once I've successfully extorted … negotiated … no, extorted this dragon. And so shall you, for that matter. A grateful dragon will doubtless be generous. And this is one who needs rescuing from the claws of a wicked cult."
"Ah." The hero offered a simple nod. "So that's what it is."
I waited for some measure of surprise. Of perhaps at least one other question regarding why I would wish to rescue a missing dragon instead of celebrating that there was now one fewer to kidnap me.
Nothing came.
"Do you wish to make any additional queries … ?"
"This is more than enough. A dragon was abducted by a cult. And now a maiden wishes to see this evil deed undone."
"Well, yes, I suppose that is the brief of it. Will you be able to provide directions?"
"I am indeed able."
"Wonderful" I gave my hands a tidy clap, offering a morsel of the smile all heroes cherished to see as a reward. "In that case, shall we set off at once?"
"No."
"... Do you need to groom your horse?"
"Yes. But that's not the reason. I'm afraid I have no jurisdiction over Witschblume. For this missing dragon, you would need to find Elise Rowe."
I palmed my face.
For a moment, I merely stayed there, relishing in the warmth of darkness.
"Elise Rowe is on holiday," I said as I slowly looked up. "For 287 days."
"Really?" The knight blinked in surprise. "Goodness, that's not a lot, is it?"
"E-Excuse me?! How many days in a year are there in Ouzelia?!"
"Not enough to ensure the protectors of the realm are well rested. If Miss Rowe is on holiday, then this is all the more reason not to lend my assistance. To be seen as taking advantage of her absence would mean the ruin of my reputation."
"Surely that is irrelevant! If the current heroine is unavailable, others need to take her place!"
The self-proclaimed hero shook his head.
"Others most certainly do not. It would set a dangerous precedent. I'd never find rest again if calamities knew a different hero would simply step in when I was away. So with my apologies, I must decline this quest."
Of all the expressions of horror I possessed, none were enough for this.
A knight … and a hero, was rejecting the opportunity to be my unpaid labour?!
"Y-You can decline quests?! From me?!"
"Of course." He raised his palms in apology. "Heroes are in high demand and in short supply. Although I wish I could help every maiden in need, I must use my time pragmatically."
"You are loitering on public infrastructure!"
"No. I am meeting a stranger from afar. One whose presence demanded my immediate attention. I now have a cherry bakewell slowly melting into a rather unappetising coulis, and a very sweaty horse."
I looked at the horse in question. There wasn't a drop of sweat to be found.
Meaning, of course, there should be no issue with it bearing its rider back where it apparently had the ability to do more than needlessly harass princesses on bridges.
"Ugh. Very well, then," I said, already looking past the man's insufficiently apologetic expression. "If you will not assist, then I shall go see if this Mad Prophet can offer his insight instead."
I tugged on Apple to go around.
Once again, the man set his steed before me like a particularly shiny boulder.
"Excuse me … but why are you still obstructing the bridge?"
"My apologies, fair maiden. But you must not rescue this dragon."
I took a deep breath, then peered up at the pearly blue sky.
So pretty. So far. So peaceful. Up there, no failed heroes or the shrieking of maidens could reach me.
And then I brought myself slowly back down.
"... Very well. Why must I not rescue this dragon?"
"Because doing so would contravene the rules of understanding which both you and I know."
"Excuse me? What rules of understanding? This is Ouzelia. There are no rules."
"There are plenty of rules. One must use a knife and fork when eating with tableware, for example."
"To eat using cutlery is as far as your civilisation has reached?!"
"No. We also have a chaotic, but established system through which heroes and heroines operate to ward away the ills of the land. And so here in the Fabled Realm, the propositions of the Adventurer's Guild have been rebuffed repeatedly … as you doubtless know. I have no jurisdiction in Witschblume. But you have none in Ouzelia. This is why I am here."
I raised my arms in exasperation.
"This is the reason you're accosting me?"
"I'm merely ascertaining facts," he said. "The Adventurer's Guild has no presence in Ouzelia. To therefore find one of their own seeking to undertake a task very much considered a quest for heroes is both curious and unnecessary. I'm certain that after 287 days, Miss Rowe will see your dragon safe and sound."
"That is not good enough!" I pointed somewhere to the horizon. "I need to see this dragon shedding tears of gratitude! This cannot be done if I'm not present to receive them!"
The man appeared torn between bemusement and doubt.
"I'm uncertain if dragons can shed tears. And I fear the process of discovering it would be an unwelcome prospect."
"Unwelcome?! Why, I am volunteering to do your job for you–with nothing in return other than the massive amounts of gold and gemstones I will extort for my time!"
Beside me, Coppelia let out a discreetly hacking cough.
"–And also for a matter concerning my loyal handmaiden, yes."
The hero was unmoved. Literally so.
Far from leaping off his horse in joy that I was saving him a dragon to rescue, he merely tapped idly at his reins.
"As generous in deed and in spirit as the Adventurer's Guild claims their members to be. To offer your own time to do this with only the rewards you yourself might claim is a far cry from the bureaucracy of modern adventurers. And so I will be frank–your presence endangers our livelihood."
The knight's smile didn't fade. But his cheeks did harden, the oil shifting with the skin.
My response was to point directly at his nose, forcing him to lean away.
"I am not part of whatever industrial dispute you have with the Adventurer's Guild! I am here for my own purposes, and should you claim even a whiff of either chivalry or heroism, you will do all you can to ensure my task is made simpler! That you would block my path is an outrage to your profession!"
The hero paused.
Then, after a moment, his shoulders and even his golden locks drooped. The genial smile turned into one of defeat. And a look of shame came upon him.
"You are right. To stand in the way of a heroic deed is an appalling example. What right do we in this realm have to deny those who would lend their valour? To do such a thing is to defeat all that we stand for. I offer my apologies, and hope you will not hold this against the good people of this land."
I leaned away slightly, my lips tightly pursed.
"... Yes, well, as long as you do not bar my way, this is all that is important."
"Of course."
The hero nodded seriously.
And then he leaned down and reached into a small saddlebag. Out came an even smaller bag. One which jingled with the tinkling of coins.
He offered it out to me. I returned the gesture with a tilt of my head.
"Excuse me, but are you offering to reimburse my travel expenses?"
"No. It is your reward."
"For what?"
"For your assistance in informing us of a missing dragon."
He smiled. I smiled as well.
And then I accepted the small bag of coins, before tipping its contents into my bottomless pouch.
"Now, I trust that will be all?" said the hero cheerfully.
"Indeed. It was a delight to meet you." I offered a polite nod. Then nudged Apple onwards. "Now, please excuse me."
The man did not, in fact, excuse me.
"Ma'am, I just gave you gold."
"And I just took it. As payment for attempted bribery."
His regret came in the form of a further delve into his saddlebags. Out came a second bag.
I was appalled … as was Coppelia, who stepped up to roundly point at the shameless charlatan.
"How dare you!" she said, a rare scowl creasing her expression. "To attempt to pay off this fair maiden is an insult unworthy of any of us!"
Coppelia!
Of course, this was her homeland's reputation being desecrated! She would not stand for such sullying!
"This is not any adventurer!" she said, gesturing passionately to me. "This is an A-rank adventurer! That means her bribery rates are higher!"
"C-Coppelia?!"
Suddenly, the knight's posture stiffened. He appraised me with narrowing eyes.
"An A-rank adventurer? … I see. Then it's as I suspected. You were deliberately sent here. And yet I'm afraid I lack the funds to properly reimburse someone whose wealth likely exceeds mine. Heroism is not a profession which rewards crowns, but gratitude. And so I must ask firmly that you pay heed to wisdom and allow others to tend to this dragon problem."
I matched his upright posture, if only to prevent the natural trembling as I battled the shame.
"O-Oh? And what will you do? Bar me from performing my deeds of charity?"
Thus, I raised my hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
"Ohohoho … you are a hero bound by naivety and a knight chained by chivalry. I am the fairest maiden of any land. You are simply not permitted to stop me. To forcibly do so would be a travesty."
The man rolled his shoulders.
"True," he said, offering a gentlemanly smile as worthless as the pittance he considered a bribe. "Which is why this will instead be a test to ensure you are worthy to brave the dangers of Ouzelia. After all, I cannot in good conscience allow you to pass, knowing what lies ahead."
He allowed my appalled expression to fully set.
And then–
A sword boasting enough radiance to burn away the sun was drawn from its sheath.
A hero is directly opposing a princess.
Holy cow, that man is utterly screwed.
Holy cow, that man is utterly screwed.
- Location
- Argentina
Hero attacks Princess and loses Hero status!
Chapter 295: A Maiden’s Words
Much was said about the heroes of Ouzelia.
And when I found out who had said them, I'd exile them to Ouzelia so they could correct themselves.
Because far from being an insufferable avatar of selflessness, the man before me was simply insufferable.
And now he was brandishing his sword like a child with a kite.
He twirled it, tossed it and caught it on the back of hand like a tavern performer seeking loose crowns.
The shrieks from the watching maidens came up at once, drowning out any questions regarding why this self-proclaimed hero felt the need to draw his weapon. Not least because doing so was a public health hazard.
The sword shone like an aurora.
Even in the midst of a balmy afternoon, it left trails of light behind as it was thrown in the air before its pommel was balanced upon the tip of a pinky. Magic and something even deeper entangled it like the clouds coiling around my bedroom tower, dense and inescapable.
A sword as ancient as the dragons it was meant to slay.
One embellished not with runes or gemstones, but with history itself.
"A Sword of Heroism," said the knight, spinning his weapon like a baton. "Forged in times past, it is as much a weapon as it is a badge of office. An impressive thing to behold, no?"
The throng of admirers answered as they raised their voices like a crashing wave.
He offered them an acknowledging smile. The greatest insult yet. To spend even a moment distracted while accosting me was a capital crime, no matter the land. And lesser, but still severe, was assuming I could be moved in much the same manner as those behind me.
Indeed, I only had a single emotion.
Outrage.
"I do not care one whit about you or any trinkets you carry!" I said, gesturing past him. "I care only about proceeding from Point A to Point C! … Do you know where we are now?"
"... Point B?"
"No, this is still Point A! I intend to skip Point B altogether–and you are preventing that! Are you an actual hero, or just someone who helps attract away the moths with that sword of yours?"
"Those two roles are not mutually exclusive," he said with a good-natured chuckle. "As a blessed, sanctified, ordained and certified hero, it is my calling to attract all manner of life towards me, from the fawns in springtime to the giant moths which plague me at night. Yet when I can see past their innumerable wings, I see also the fair maidens who seek my assistance. Of which one is now before me."
"And how does drawing your sword assist me, exactly? Will the dragon also be attracted to it?"
"Stranger things have happened. But for now, it is merely to inform you that of all the dangers you would face, the sword you see before you fails to match even a fraction of them."
I didn't bother holding back my groan.
Here I was, the busiest person in two realms … and I was being waylaid by a hero!
Why couldn't it have been bandits?! At least then I wouldn't need to wear a look of such grief that it was now likely permanently etched in place! That was awful! I needed other expressions as well!
… Sometimes!
"Sir Garlic, I am extremely–"
"Sir Gardrin."
"My apologies. Sir Garlic, I am extremely busy. Unlike you, I do not have time to dawdle on public bridges, waiting for the first hurried maiden to harass for the time she lacks to give. I have to find a missing dragon, extort him for all his wealth, and then hope my bottomless pouch truly is bottomless and I don't need to go seeking refunds from trolls. I do not have time for … whatever this is!"
He offered a professional smile in response, his feelings clearly ambivalent towards my urgent need to depart from this land of oddballs and vagrant heroes as swiftly as possible.
"Oh? I happen to know quite a few trolls. They're very reasonable, and would give you a fair appraisal if you're curious about any of your magical items. Would you like me to point the way?"
"No! I do not need a troll! I need a dragon! Either point me where I must go or move aside at once!"
"Certainly. Provided that you pass my test of worth. It would be truly devastating if a rare adventurer from afar managed to accidentally lose themselves in a pit worm's trap. Ouzelia is a land as splendid as it is dangerous. Should you wish to traverse it, then you must first prove yourself capable."
It certainly was splendid.
Why, nowhere else would I come to view the bureaucracy of the Adventurer's Guild in a favourable light. For all their distressing paperwork, I'd happily sign a waiver in Coppelia's name again if it meant disregarding this self-proclaimed hero's brazen attempt at sabotage.
"I will not humour any test," I said, before gesturing to my side. "For any holes in the ground I may come across, I will evade by virtue of my loyal handmaiden, whose knowledge of her homeland is second only to her willingness to immediately slap aside any diplomatically protected hero while I pretend to see nothing."
I waited for the [Coppelia Slap].
It didn't come. I turned at once, appalled that I'd need to make my suggestion even less subtle.
Oddly, only a vacant spot was beside me. And so I continued turning … all the way until I found her amongst the gaggle of maidens, her fluffy golden hair bouncing as she darted amidst the crowd.
"Hey, did you see that?" said Coppelia loudly, one hand covering her mouth while the other pointed towards the hoodlum. "The hero just handed over a bag of gold. Isn't it a bit creepy that he's trying to earn a young maiden's favour with money?"
"Was … Was that gold? I had no idea …"
"I'm also pretty sure she said no, and now the guy's drawn his hero's sword like he wants to fight her! What's with that? Isn't that totally strange?"
"Y-Yes, it is a bit unexplained, isn't it … "
"By the way, I heard the hero's actually married. And also divorced. Twice."
Gasps filled the air at once. Including from me.
Why, I could scarcely believe it! Rather than staying by my side, Coppelia was instead entertaining herself by sowing discord amongst this hero's most ardent admirers!
… I nodded, then returned to the man whose expression was scribbled with grief.
"I am not married!" he cried out, directly towards the whispering maidens as his horse neighed against the sudden jolt. "... Or divorced!"
I offered the twice divorced philander a heavy frown.
"And yet you seek to raise your sword against a maiden. An act so egregious even my low expectations have been shattered."
"I do not intend to do any such thing," he said, his tone ever so slightly indignant. "My sword shall never harm those who mean no ill towards this good realm. It is not a weapon, but a shield."
"Then I suggest you donate it to someone more suitable to hold it. I am passing you by."
The man sat up a little straighter, his eyes struggling to not glance at a crowd whose chattering now loomed larger than my shadow.
"Should you wish to pass me, you must first pass my sword," he declared, loud enough for all to hear. "Yet you needn't fear, for in this test only I shall be at risk of harm. Strike me a single time, and I shall yield all the fields and mountains behind me for you to traverse."
Suddenly, I blinked at the hero.
"... Is that it?" I queried. "I merely need to strike you? … With no diplomatic repercussions? For free?"
"I'm not certain where cost comes into this," he replied, his tone stiff even as his smile bloomed alongside the sudden hushing of the gossip. "But yes, I shall hold no grudges against you. This is a challenge of my own making, after all."
I leaned slightly forwards.
"Truly?"
"Truly." The hero nodded confidently, then raised both arms out, sword thrust invitingly to the side. "For you cannot harm me, no matter how often or hard you strike. Your sword cannot pass mine. Yet even if it does, a hero's dexterity–"
"Poke."
The hero blinked.
Then, he looked down at Starlight Grace poking his silver pauldron.
"Ohhohohohhoho!!" I raised my other hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. "Is that it?! To whack away until I strike you?! You who is both directly before me and utterly immobile on a horse?! Is this a test to see if I merely have functioning elbows?! There is greater challenge in reaching for the cold side of my pillow!"
The hero's mouth widened. And for good reason.
Quite aside from the fact that his test of worth could be passed by anybody with arms, my sword was far superior.
Indeed, even against a sword held by heroes, neither its design nor its history was any less! Or rather, since my sword was held exclusively by princesses and queens, that made it far more impressive! Neither a single farmer, nor a strange being in a lake had ever besmirched it!
"I wasn't ready," he said, his arms quickly falling by his sides.
I gave the cursory roll of my eyes.
"Of course you weren't … and when exactly would you be ready? Tomorrow, perhaps?"
He smiled. And then held up his sword in a guarding posture.
"Now," he declared, his eyes narrowing. "You may–"
"Poke."
Once again, the hero looked down at the sight of my sword poking his shoulder armour.
This time, I didn't bother hiding my smile–even if it was far more than he deserved.
"Ohhohohohohoho!! I see that coming up with meaningful challenges isn't required to become a hero! Why, if you've no intention of striking back, even a child could swing a sword until you falter! … Yet it is simply embarrassing that you wouldn't parry even a single strike!"
For a moment, the hero could only gawk at the fatal absurdity in a challenge where one only needed to flail until something struck. Attacking was significantly easier than defending. All the more so if the opponent was clearly more used to fighting off the attention of maidens than those with swords.
Then, the man jumped off his horse.
Leaping away with a motion as fluid as it was highly unnecessary, he settled himself in a defensive posture by his steed's side. Gone was the smile and the unshakable confidence. As he raised his sword, I saw less a hero and more a common knight preparing for a duel.
"Once more," he declared, his brows creasing. "I am ready now."
I gave a tiny groan.
Then, I dismounted from Apple.
Charitably obliging this man's incessantness, I raised my sword and slowly approached for his benefit, clearly telegraphing where I was going to strike for the third time. This time, I would accept no complaints.
Just as he would accept no sense of chivalry.
For as I prepared to poke once more–
"[Cresting Glare]."
The light from his sword grew.
Like a sun igniting from a hearth, it was a dazzling glow to burn away the irises of every maiden unfortunate enough to look upon it. I was no exception. As a burning light filled my eyes, all I last saw was a satisfied smile devoid of shame.
"Take all the time you need," said a cheerful voice, clearly moving along with its owner.
I could scarcely believe it.
It … It was an appalling display!
A hero's powers … used no differently than the mischief of a child!
Yet what need did I have for sight, when ignoring the whims of knights was what I did as standard?
Indeed, it mattered not how brightly his weapon glowed, for I was a princess. And blinding myself in the face of their smiles and lack of tact was something I did voluntarily.
Ohohoho … truly now, did this man think he was the first knight to make an outrageous request of me?
Please. I spent my days navigating the halls of the Royal Villa while diligently avoiding every relentless favour asked of me … especially when most of them concerned delivering a message to Florella!
Naturally, I always obliged, sparing no detail regarding the impropriety of our knights in my letters.
They were all shameless to a fault. And this one was no different.
But I was representing my kingdom. And I could hardly allow it to be said that I was not generous.
"Ohhohoho … be glad, for I shall accept your impropriety for enthusiasm," I said as I angled my sword against the light. "A token for your persistence, then."
And thus–
I struck Starlight Grace forward.
Not as a sword. But rather as a quill.
For if I could find the parchment beneath my duvet in the dead of night, then I could most certainly find a silver breastplate. And this time, the message I'd be delivering wasn't for my sister, but for all the innocent maidens of Ouzelia.
"... W-What?"
A voice wrapped in shock met me.
It was much too early. For as my sword found the touch of silver … I smiled.
And then–
I began to write.
"Rejoice, for as your gift, I shall offer to you my latest masterpiece! … Life tempered beneath the night of a duvet, as verses forged in celestial ink! Poetry Form, 2nd Stance … [Midnight Muse]!"
Ohhohohohohoho!!
Here it was!
The ultimate favour a princess could grant!
The dream of all knights and chivalrous rogues everywhere!
… To be gifted with a personal poem by a princess's hand!
With a flash of inspiration, I brought forth all the talent that allowed me to fill up half the royal library despite the fact that anything written before the age of 10 should be automatically set aflame!
As I smiled, so too did my fabled blade as it etched a poem destined to be remembered as long as this hooligan hero's joy!
After a moment, the light faded, replaced by the face of an extremely shocked man.
He peered down, then promptly joined my blinks of confusion as we both assessed the pristine nature of his silver armour … all the way until he raised his Sword of Heroism against the sunlight.
His mouth widened at the words etched upon the length of the shining blade.
Hmmmmmm.
This was … yes, very hmmmmmmmm.
My masterpiece wasn't written upon his disposable breastplate.
Rather … it somewhat appeared to be engraved upon his Sword of Heroism.
Even fine as the lettering was, each word shone with its own brilliance, proudly gleaming like a constellation within that aurora of magic.
An audible hush fell over us. The hero was unmoving. As were the maidens around us.
As I peeked behind me, all I saw were hands covering mouths. Eyes wide with shock and steadily growing horror met me.
With one exception–
"Ahhahahahhaahahahaha~!"
Coppelia was doubled over.
Her laughter monopolised the air, a hand slapping her knee as the other pointed towards my latest masterpiece currently scribbled upon a hero's vaunted sword.
Now when it flashed before the eyes of his foes, they would meet their demise knowing their wicked schemes had come undone by a miscreant.
And that … was surely an upgrade!
O-Ohohoho!
Indeed! I'd … I'd just improved a hero's most priceless relic!
The added indignation felt by his foes was only extra justice!
Did it matter that I'd just vandalised … no, modified a national treasure? Of course not! Just as a blade could be reforged, sharpened or enchanted, so too could it be subtly improved by the delicate and not-at-all accidental touch of a princess's words from the heart!
My words of poetry were more powerful than any enchantment! All who ever looked away with faces lined with trauma in the knowledge they'd never experience better said so!
Why, this hero clearly thought the same!
After a moment, I slowly leaned forwards and waved my hand before his unblinking face.
No words came from his lips.
His expression was still and empty, his endless stare fixed upon his upgraded Sword of Heroism.
I gave it a moment's thought, then climbed atop Apple.
And for absolutely no reason at all … I reached into my bottomless pouch, took out a silver crown and laid it upon his horse's saddle.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Garlic," I said as I promptly began to ride past. "I wish you well in your quests ahead, and hope also that your improved sword is to your satisfaction. In the rare event it is not, I've left a small donation for which you may purchase a bar of soap. It is possible the words may scrub off after several centuries. I suggest cold water so that you do not scald your skin."
I peeked back to see if he'd begun moving yet.
He hadn't.
Thus, I tugged on Apple's reins to make him trot a little faster.
And for the first time, it almost seemed like he did.
And when I found out who had said them, I'd exile them to Ouzelia so they could correct themselves.
Because far from being an insufferable avatar of selflessness, the man before me was simply insufferable.
And now he was brandishing his sword like a child with a kite.
He twirled it, tossed it and caught it on the back of hand like a tavern performer seeking loose crowns.
The shrieks from the watching maidens came up at once, drowning out any questions regarding why this self-proclaimed hero felt the need to draw his weapon. Not least because doing so was a public health hazard.
The sword shone like an aurora.
Even in the midst of a balmy afternoon, it left trails of light behind as it was thrown in the air before its pommel was balanced upon the tip of a pinky. Magic and something even deeper entangled it like the clouds coiling around my bedroom tower, dense and inescapable.
A sword as ancient as the dragons it was meant to slay.
One embellished not with runes or gemstones, but with history itself.
"A Sword of Heroism," said the knight, spinning his weapon like a baton. "Forged in times past, it is as much a weapon as it is a badge of office. An impressive thing to behold, no?"
The throng of admirers answered as they raised their voices like a crashing wave.
He offered them an acknowledging smile. The greatest insult yet. To spend even a moment distracted while accosting me was a capital crime, no matter the land. And lesser, but still severe, was assuming I could be moved in much the same manner as those behind me.
Indeed, I only had a single emotion.
Outrage.
"I do not care one whit about you or any trinkets you carry!" I said, gesturing past him. "I care only about proceeding from Point A to Point C! … Do you know where we are now?"
"... Point B?"
"No, this is still Point A! I intend to skip Point B altogether–and you are preventing that! Are you an actual hero, or just someone who helps attract away the moths with that sword of yours?"
"Those two roles are not mutually exclusive," he said with a good-natured chuckle. "As a blessed, sanctified, ordained and certified hero, it is my calling to attract all manner of life towards me, from the fawns in springtime to the giant moths which plague me at night. Yet when I can see past their innumerable wings, I see also the fair maidens who seek my assistance. Of which one is now before me."
"And how does drawing your sword assist me, exactly? Will the dragon also be attracted to it?"
"Stranger things have happened. But for now, it is merely to inform you that of all the dangers you would face, the sword you see before you fails to match even a fraction of them."
I didn't bother holding back my groan.
Here I was, the busiest person in two realms … and I was being waylaid by a hero!
Why couldn't it have been bandits?! At least then I wouldn't need to wear a look of such grief that it was now likely permanently etched in place! That was awful! I needed other expressions as well!
… Sometimes!
"Sir Garlic, I am extremely–"
"Sir Gardrin."
"My apologies. Sir Garlic, I am extremely busy. Unlike you, I do not have time to dawdle on public bridges, waiting for the first hurried maiden to harass for the time she lacks to give. I have to find a missing dragon, extort him for all his wealth, and then hope my bottomless pouch truly is bottomless and I don't need to go seeking refunds from trolls. I do not have time for … whatever this is!"
He offered a professional smile in response, his feelings clearly ambivalent towards my urgent need to depart from this land of oddballs and vagrant heroes as swiftly as possible.
"Oh? I happen to know quite a few trolls. They're very reasonable, and would give you a fair appraisal if you're curious about any of your magical items. Would you like me to point the way?"
"No! I do not need a troll! I need a dragon! Either point me where I must go or move aside at once!"
"Certainly. Provided that you pass my test of worth. It would be truly devastating if a rare adventurer from afar managed to accidentally lose themselves in a pit worm's trap. Ouzelia is a land as splendid as it is dangerous. Should you wish to traverse it, then you must first prove yourself capable."
It certainly was splendid.
Why, nowhere else would I come to view the bureaucracy of the Adventurer's Guild in a favourable light. For all their distressing paperwork, I'd happily sign a waiver in Coppelia's name again if it meant disregarding this self-proclaimed hero's brazen attempt at sabotage.
"I will not humour any test," I said, before gesturing to my side. "For any holes in the ground I may come across, I will evade by virtue of my loyal handmaiden, whose knowledge of her homeland is second only to her willingness to immediately slap aside any diplomatically protected hero while I pretend to see nothing."
I waited for the [Coppelia Slap].
It didn't come. I turned at once, appalled that I'd need to make my suggestion even less subtle.
Oddly, only a vacant spot was beside me. And so I continued turning … all the way until I found her amongst the gaggle of maidens, her fluffy golden hair bouncing as she darted amidst the crowd.
"Hey, did you see that?" said Coppelia loudly, one hand covering her mouth while the other pointed towards the hoodlum. "The hero just handed over a bag of gold. Isn't it a bit creepy that he's trying to earn a young maiden's favour with money?"
"Was … Was that gold? I had no idea …"
"I'm also pretty sure she said no, and now the guy's drawn his hero's sword like he wants to fight her! What's with that? Isn't that totally strange?"
"Y-Yes, it is a bit unexplained, isn't it … "
"By the way, I heard the hero's actually married. And also divorced. Twice."
Gasps filled the air at once. Including from me.
Why, I could scarcely believe it! Rather than staying by my side, Coppelia was instead entertaining herself by sowing discord amongst this hero's most ardent admirers!
… I nodded, then returned to the man whose expression was scribbled with grief.
"I am not married!" he cried out, directly towards the whispering maidens as his horse neighed against the sudden jolt. "... Or divorced!"
I offered the twice divorced philander a heavy frown.
"And yet you seek to raise your sword against a maiden. An act so egregious even my low expectations have been shattered."
"I do not intend to do any such thing," he said, his tone ever so slightly indignant. "My sword shall never harm those who mean no ill towards this good realm. It is not a weapon, but a shield."
"Then I suggest you donate it to someone more suitable to hold it. I am passing you by."
The man sat up a little straighter, his eyes struggling to not glance at a crowd whose chattering now loomed larger than my shadow.
"Should you wish to pass me, you must first pass my sword," he declared, loud enough for all to hear. "Yet you needn't fear, for in this test only I shall be at risk of harm. Strike me a single time, and I shall yield all the fields and mountains behind me for you to traverse."
Suddenly, I blinked at the hero.
"... Is that it?" I queried. "I merely need to strike you? … With no diplomatic repercussions? For free?"
"I'm not certain where cost comes into this," he replied, his tone stiff even as his smile bloomed alongside the sudden hushing of the gossip. "But yes, I shall hold no grudges against you. This is a challenge of my own making, after all."
I leaned slightly forwards.
"Truly?"
"Truly." The hero nodded confidently, then raised both arms out, sword thrust invitingly to the side. "For you cannot harm me, no matter how often or hard you strike. Your sword cannot pass mine. Yet even if it does, a hero's dexterity–"
"Poke."
The hero blinked.
Then, he looked down at Starlight Grace poking his silver pauldron.
"Ohhohohohhoho!!" I raised my other hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. "Is that it?! To whack away until I strike you?! You who is both directly before me and utterly immobile on a horse?! Is this a test to see if I merely have functioning elbows?! There is greater challenge in reaching for the cold side of my pillow!"
The hero's mouth widened. And for good reason.
Quite aside from the fact that his test of worth could be passed by anybody with arms, my sword was far superior.
Indeed, even against a sword held by heroes, neither its design nor its history was any less! Or rather, since my sword was held exclusively by princesses and queens, that made it far more impressive! Neither a single farmer, nor a strange being in a lake had ever besmirched it!
"I wasn't ready," he said, his arms quickly falling by his sides.
I gave the cursory roll of my eyes.
"Of course you weren't … and when exactly would you be ready? Tomorrow, perhaps?"
He smiled. And then held up his sword in a guarding posture.
"Now," he declared, his eyes narrowing. "You may–"
"Poke."
Once again, the hero looked down at the sight of my sword poking his shoulder armour.
This time, I didn't bother hiding my smile–even if it was far more than he deserved.
"Ohhohohohohoho!! I see that coming up with meaningful challenges isn't required to become a hero! Why, if you've no intention of striking back, even a child could swing a sword until you falter! … Yet it is simply embarrassing that you wouldn't parry even a single strike!"
For a moment, the hero could only gawk at the fatal absurdity in a challenge where one only needed to flail until something struck. Attacking was significantly easier than defending. All the more so if the opponent was clearly more used to fighting off the attention of maidens than those with swords.
Then, the man jumped off his horse.
Leaping away with a motion as fluid as it was highly unnecessary, he settled himself in a defensive posture by his steed's side. Gone was the smile and the unshakable confidence. As he raised his sword, I saw less a hero and more a common knight preparing for a duel.
"Once more," he declared, his brows creasing. "I am ready now."
I gave a tiny groan.
Then, I dismounted from Apple.
Charitably obliging this man's incessantness, I raised my sword and slowly approached for his benefit, clearly telegraphing where I was going to strike for the third time. This time, I would accept no complaints.
Just as he would accept no sense of chivalry.
For as I prepared to poke once more–
"[Cresting Glare]."
The light from his sword grew.
Like a sun igniting from a hearth, it was a dazzling glow to burn away the irises of every maiden unfortunate enough to look upon it. I was no exception. As a burning light filled my eyes, all I last saw was a satisfied smile devoid of shame.
"Take all the time you need," said a cheerful voice, clearly moving along with its owner.
I could scarcely believe it.
It … It was an appalling display!
A hero's powers … used no differently than the mischief of a child!
Yet what need did I have for sight, when ignoring the whims of knights was what I did as standard?
Indeed, it mattered not how brightly his weapon glowed, for I was a princess. And blinding myself in the face of their smiles and lack of tact was something I did voluntarily.
Ohohoho … truly now, did this man think he was the first knight to make an outrageous request of me?
Please. I spent my days navigating the halls of the Royal Villa while diligently avoiding every relentless favour asked of me … especially when most of them concerned delivering a message to Florella!
Naturally, I always obliged, sparing no detail regarding the impropriety of our knights in my letters.
They were all shameless to a fault. And this one was no different.
But I was representing my kingdom. And I could hardly allow it to be said that I was not generous.
"Ohhohoho … be glad, for I shall accept your impropriety for enthusiasm," I said as I angled my sword against the light. "A token for your persistence, then."
And thus–
I struck Starlight Grace forward.
Not as a sword. But rather as a quill.
For if I could find the parchment beneath my duvet in the dead of night, then I could most certainly find a silver breastplate. And this time, the message I'd be delivering wasn't for my sister, but for all the innocent maidens of Ouzelia.
"... W-What?"
A voice wrapped in shock met me.
It was much too early. For as my sword found the touch of silver … I smiled.
And then–
I began to write.
"Rejoice, for as your gift, I shall offer to you my latest masterpiece! … Life tempered beneath the night of a duvet, as verses forged in celestial ink! Poetry Form, 2nd Stance … [Midnight Muse]!"
Ohhohohohohoho!!
Here it was!
The ultimate favour a princess could grant!
The dream of all knights and chivalrous rogues everywhere!
… To be gifted with a personal poem by a princess's hand!
With a flash of inspiration, I brought forth all the talent that allowed me to fill up half the royal library despite the fact that anything written before the age of 10 should be automatically set aflame!
As I smiled, so too did my fabled blade as it etched a poem destined to be remembered as long as this hooligan hero's joy!
After a moment, the light faded, replaced by the face of an extremely shocked man.
He peered down, then promptly joined my blinks of confusion as we both assessed the pristine nature of his silver armour … all the way until he raised his Sword of Heroism against the sunlight.
His mouth widened at the words etched upon the length of the shining blade.
Oily skin and twice divorced, blocks a bridge with no remorse.
Married now but vows fall short, harassing maidens his favoured sport.
Married now but vows fall short, harassing maidens his favoured sport.
Hmmmmmm.
This was … yes, very hmmmmmmmm.
My masterpiece wasn't written upon his disposable breastplate.
Rather … it somewhat appeared to be engraved upon his Sword of Heroism.
Even fine as the lettering was, each word shone with its own brilliance, proudly gleaming like a constellation within that aurora of magic.
An audible hush fell over us. The hero was unmoving. As were the maidens around us.
As I peeked behind me, all I saw were hands covering mouths. Eyes wide with shock and steadily growing horror met me.
With one exception–
"Ahhahahahhaahahahaha~!"
Coppelia was doubled over.
Her laughter monopolised the air, a hand slapping her knee as the other pointed towards my latest masterpiece currently scribbled upon a hero's vaunted sword.
Now when it flashed before the eyes of his foes, they would meet their demise knowing their wicked schemes had come undone by a miscreant.
And that … was surely an upgrade!
O-Ohohoho!
Indeed! I'd … I'd just improved a hero's most priceless relic!
The added indignation felt by his foes was only extra justice!
Did it matter that I'd just vandalised … no, modified a national treasure? Of course not! Just as a blade could be reforged, sharpened or enchanted, so too could it be subtly improved by the delicate and not-at-all accidental touch of a princess's words from the heart!
My words of poetry were more powerful than any enchantment! All who ever looked away with faces lined with trauma in the knowledge they'd never experience better said so!
Why, this hero clearly thought the same!
After a moment, I slowly leaned forwards and waved my hand before his unblinking face.
No words came from his lips.
His expression was still and empty, his endless stare fixed upon his upgraded Sword of Heroism.
I gave it a moment's thought, then climbed atop Apple.
And for absolutely no reason at all … I reached into my bottomless pouch, took out a silver crown and laid it upon his horse's saddle.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Garlic," I said as I promptly began to ride past. "I wish you well in your quests ahead, and hope also that your improved sword is to your satisfaction. In the rare event it is not, I've left a small donation for which you may purchase a bar of soap. It is possible the words may scrub off after several centuries. I suggest cold water so that you do not scald your skin."
I peeked back to see if he'd begun moving yet.
He hadn't.
Thus, I tugged on Apple's reins to make him trot a little faster.
And for the first time, it almost seemed like he did.
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- Location
- Argentina
Honesty, that's what he gets for acting as a roadblock.
Surely the most impressive thing is the poem itself! It is a thing of artistic beauty!
Chapter 296: A Hero’s Purpose
Ouzelia was a realm famed for its beauty.
A picture book of berry farms upon rolling hills ushered in feelings of warmth and comfort, while distant mountains and forests promised untapped tales of wild adventures.
Protected by its stalwart heroes and heroines, it was a land far from the minds and concerns of the ambitions seen far and wide across the continent.
But that did not mean it was devoid of shadows, nor that they were any lesser.
Within the alleys of Ouzelia, a shadow war was raging. And even the streets under the purview of the Clockwork Duchess were no exception.
A man hooded and cloaked swept from corner to corner.
Keeping himself to the walls, none paid any attention to this lone stranger. Despite the balmy sunlight and the crowds which thronged the town of Witschblume, he moved unseen like a shadow panther shrouded in magic.
Padding with soft steps, he slid himself along the side of a busy tavern. Even had those inside seen him, they would not have paid him any heed. Not even when a hand slipped from beneath his cloak and swiped at a notice bleached from the sunlight, leaving only a torn scrap stuck behind on its rusted nail.
The figure glanced around himself, yet neither resident nor guard challenged him.
He was a shadow. And shadows did not exist here in the flowering heart of Witschblume.
Moving swifter than an arrow in flight, his hand once again shot out, this time to slap a tall length of parchment lined with heavy-duty glue beside the nail. And on it was the face of a man all would recognise–unless they wore a full hood and cloak.
Sir Gardrin Pavont examined his drawing. He nodded with quiet satisfaction. Then he swept away for another corner, another alley, another street.
A job well done.
As the Hero of Heizholm glued his posters throughout the rival town of Witschblume, he was soon rewarded by the sound of giggling. Groups of maidens paused to discuss his drawing, taking note as well of the most recent news of his triumphs.
Recent being subjective.
In truth, it'd been some time since he'd last fought a killer orca with his pinky, rescued a damsel from a crumbling tower or wrestled the three heads of a hydra all at the same time.
Because any time he was defeating some nameless horror with designs on world conquest in some faraway tomb, he was losing on a different front.
The Cosmos Monthly Hero Popularity Rankings.
Sir Gardrin came to a stop, sighing at the unfairness of it all.
He was handsome, wealthy and popular. But did those things truly matter?
They say it was lonely at the top. But for Sir Gardrin, it was far too crowded.
Behind him, he could practically see the daring smile of Captain Rainier as he steered his immense galleon directly towards his ranking. A galleon. Compared to that, what was his silver armour and white steed? People could see Sir Gardrin's smile from exactly 3.27 kilometres away. A feat that was impressive all the way until everyone spotted that absurdly shining mast from the far horizon.
Even so, Sir Gardrin did not claw his way into the top ten rankings by meekly standing aside.
He vowed to continue onwards, one adhesively sticky poster of himself at a time … even if that meant occasionally being barrelled aside for the effort.
All of a sudden, he felt a jolt as a rotund man accidentally collided with him.
He knew it was accidental by virtue of the fact none of his hero's protections activated. If it'd been a dagger thrust from a sleeve, he'd have sensed the intent before the blade even left. But a baker wielding several sacks of flour? That may very well have been the death of him.
"Oh, sorry," said the man without looking.
"It's fine," came Sir Gardrin's gruff reply, so different from his usual tone that none would recognise him even beside his own posters. Particularly as he was about to become a hero purée.
As the baker waddled onwards, Sir Gardrin found himself squished as an entire throng converged upon him. And none of it due to his identity being revealed. The crowds all parted to the sides, ebbing away like tides. And the reason was instantly clear why.
The head maid of Witschblume Castle.
"Lady Uxna, please notice meeee!"
A notable figure amidst the region's political elite.
While a maid raised to nobility on a whim was ordinarily as devoid of power as a squire raised by a landless knight, as a representative of the ogre tribes, hers cut an impressive figure … and yet to Sir Gardrin's widening eyes, she went almost unseen.
His attention was on the maiden she was escorting.
He did a double-take at once. Not for the fact that the girl's elegance stood in contrast to the shaggy horse she was riding. Nor for the fact that she was clearly no resident of Ouzelia.
No … he had to look twice because he could barely stomach the sight of her.
A queasiness worse than spoiled porridge filled his stomach.
It was a deep, terrible discomfort worming away at his very being. Nausea, vertigo and an itch on the part of his back he couldn't reach all fought to overcome him in a tidal wave of unease. And the Hero of Heizholm experienced something he'd never known before. Not since he'd been gifted his sword.
Fear.
Sir Gardrin remembered little of this emotion.
He'd once headbutted a giant. Yet when he blinked at the young maiden atop her unkempt horse, he realised that as he tried to swallow, no moisture was left in his throat to do so.
And before he knew it, his hand was upon the hilt of his sword.
He shook his head as the fog lessened almost immediately, and what he saw after the 3rd … 4th attempt was very much a girl who did not hold herself as a swordswoman at all, despite the blade by her side.
Sir Gardrin knew at once from just the way she rode that she had lived a pampered lifestyle, caring more for appearance than posture. And were that all he saw, he may have convinced himself to let the matter be for a different hero to consider.
"It can't be," he whispered, daring to lift his hood slightly.
There, shining upon her hand as she gripped her horse's reins, was a copper ring.
And all thoughts of Cosmos Monthly left Sir Gardrin's mind. Because if dropping out of the top ten was the worst case scenario, then to see his livelihood lost to that organisation which replaced romance with bureaucracy was the second worst.
She was … an adventurer!
Sir Gardrin could only gawp as he watched the newcomer being escorted by Witschblume's head maid.
He already knew her destination. And so as much to force his mind to work as to stop himself from being turned to purée against one of his posters, he pressed his way through and followed.
Eventually, he had nothing but his cloak to hide him as the crowds thinned against the gates of the castle. And in the time that followed, he despaired.
Absentmindedly slapping posters on walls, he could only imagine why the Clockwork Duchess would send her own representative to meet with one of the guild's. She had her own heroine to care for, after all. One whose presence he'd yet to feel, despite the week he'd spent peppering her town with his face.
And suddenly, he wondered whether or not she truly was simply on a quest as he had assumed.
What if … What if the Clockwork Duchess, mad as she was, was considering allowing them a foothold?
That would spell disaster for them all!
It was a crisis. And for once, Sir Gardrin wished for a hero of his own. But he was all he had.
He was all every hero had.
As the girl left with only a sprightly attendant by her side, he watched as they left the eastern gate and made for all of Ouzelia. And Sir Gardrin knew they must be stopped.
No matter the cost.
Without wasting a moment of time, he whistled for his white stallion, and together, they went forth like the heralds of a storm. The world rushed past in a haze of colour as a hood and cloak was lost to the wind. In just mere moments, they'd caught up with the far slower horse … before promptly passing them via a wide berth in order to wait at a more appropriate setting ahead.
Sir Gardrin positioned himself upon a bridge with the sun behind his back.
The maidens started to gather the moment he fixed his smile in place.
There would be questions later regarding his presence in Witschblume, but this was no time to be concerned with rivalry. If adventurers were allowed to join Ouzelia's ranks, then Cosmos Monthly's rankings would swell astronomically for them all.
They would come like a plague, and nothing would be left of the charts but foreign names and faces.
"... I accept your service and dismiss you at once. I've no need of a stableboy. Should I do, I will call upon you from a distance."
Unless, of course, they were as charming as this.
Sir Gardrin ignored the ceaseless quips with a smile which failed to dent the maiden's heart.
That made him worry as much as hearing the admission she was here to rescue a dragon. A dragon. The very lifeblood of heroes. Whether it was to slay or befriend them, anything to do with dragons was to heroes what mutton was to a butcher.
It couldn't be lost.
Who she was and where she was from was irrelevant. Yet the fact that she was immune to his charms meant he'd need to resort to other means to politely hurry her away.
And what more civilised way was there than a knightly challenge?
Even if it was one so weighted in his favour that the other half of the scales was lost in the clouds.
As the officially appointed hero of Heizholm, he could perform manoeuvres the types of which acrobats who'd spent their childhood dancing upon the high lines of a circus would baulk at. It mattered little whether the danger was the bottle of a drunkard in a bar or the tusks of a frost mammoth.
If he saw it, he would evade it. And if he didn't see it, he would evade it to even more acclaim.
Few knew how the powers imbued by a Sword of Heroism truly functioned. Only that the older the sword, the more powerful the gifts, for they were more than weapons. In each blade was carried a bit of the experience of those who wielded it before.
Sir Gardrin did not boast an ogre's strength or an elf's nimbleness. Yet when he slapped away the rubble of a falling avalanche or swept through a forest with more grasping vines than leaves, it was with the technique of countless years of victory and defeat.
And so he readied himself with as little showmanship as he could muster. To disrespect a maiden from afar was not in his blood. But this was as much for her sake as it was his.
He would parry each and every strike, until satisfied that he'd humoured the adventurer's attempts at striking him for long enough that she and all to follow would understand the lack of need to their presence. And he would mark that moment by sending her sword flying through the air.
As a result–
"Poke."
He could only blink as the girl effortlessly prodded his armour instead.
"Ohhohohohhoho!! Is that it?! To whack away until I strike you?!"
Sir Gardrin felt like his soul had left him.
He'd … He'd been struck!
That simply didn't happen!
Water did not slide upwards and maidens did not prod his armour!
Instincts derived from generations of peers refused to permit it … and yet none of them could do more than complain in silence. He had not even seen the blade leave her side, much less strike towards him.
Swallowing an empty gulp, he immediately shook the moment away as utter lethargy on his part. A mistake he would not make again. Everything about the girl made him uncomfortable. But none of it was because he was terrified of her swordsmanship. It did not take a knight to know she was no duellist.
Regardless, he watched the girl with respect as he raised his sword in a guard.
And then–
"Poke."
He promptly gawped as her sword found itself prodding into his silver pauldron once more.
Sir Gardrin Pavont, Hero of Heizholm and Knight of the Cresting Sun, was gobsmacked.
His guard hadn't just been bypassed. It'd been ignored.
The sword he'd been watching was nothing more than a streak of flashing steel as swift as a mockingbird's wings … and all he heard was the laughter that followed.
"Ohhohohohohoho!!"
That was it.
Whoever she was, Sir Gardrin knew he could not allow her to have free reign over Ouzelia.
She was not just an adventurer. But Sir Gardrin was also no ordinary knight.
He was a hero of Ouzelia. And to protect the pride of himself and all around him, he could not allow sentiment to cloud what must be done.
He would use his powers of heroism. Not just passively. But with purpose.
Leaping from his horse, he assumed a posture he'd not made since his days sparring as a knight. As he held his sword with both hands, it was to mirror the slightest movement of the girl standing with no regard to what he would do next.
"[Cresting Glare]."
The light burned away all sight other than his own.
Yet he did not allow his caution to fade.
He couldn't.
For as she thrust forward her blade, it was all he could do to suck in a shallow breath in prayer. And for a moment, it seemed as if all the heavens had chosen to answer.
Strength and clarity filled him like a basin that was overflowing. He was weightless and free as the rest of the world turned still … all except for a blade continuing unerringly towards his breastplate.
Sir Gardrin prayed once more. And this time, his sword answered.
With a speed to defy his own arms, his blade swept up to meet the oncoming strike.
Sweat formed upon his brows as at the last moment, the broad length of his blade turned to act as a shield, blocking the very tip of that maiden's attack. Exhaustion threatened to overcome him at once, yet no spark of clashing steel or gasp of surprise rewarded his monumental effort.
For while he could stop that first strike, he could do little against what came next.
To his absolute horror … she began to scratch away.
"Life tempered beneath the night of a duvet, as verses forged in celestial ink! Poetry Form, 2nd Stance … [Midnight Muse]!"
Sir Gardrin felt as the other sword began to etch into his own.
He was as helpless as an oak to a woodpecker.
For a moment, he wasn't certain if any damage could be caused. But as he read the words of slander newly inscribed, he wished it had been.
The scars of a scratch could be repaired … embraced. But the poem pronouncing him twice divorced upon his badge of office was a mar without joy.
At once, only thoughts of mortification came over him, as severe as the silence of the maidens whose footsteps gradually shuffled away. Emptiness took his mind, and all he heard was the din of his own despair.
Only when the last had departed did he finally look behind him to see the back of a girl attempting to hurry her horse away, all the while a clockwork doll struggled to stop herself falling over with laughter.
And Sir Gardrin Pavont … couldn't help but join her.
"Ahaha … ahahaha … hahahahahahah!"
His shoulders slumped.
For the first time, he saw as his popularity ranking plummeted.
Even so … as he looked up at the departing girl and the blessed sunlight shining upon the smear written upon his sword, he strangely found he did not care.
A weight upon his shoulder had been lifted … and for the first time in years, he could hold his sword so high that even those from Heizholm could see the defamation emblazoned upon it.
Ah.
What had he been doing all this time?
He had forgotten what had made him a hero.
For as he watched the adventurer heading into the unknown, he saw what he should have been instead.
Sir Gardrin Pavont took a deep breath.
Then, he opened the saddlebag by his patient and pitying horse and tossed a stack of posters into the river. His face faded at once, before being taken by the current. And that was fine.
There were other ways to rise up the rankings. And he'd ensure that not even an adventurer could best him.
He was a hero. And he would work for his happy ending.
A picture book of berry farms upon rolling hills ushered in feelings of warmth and comfort, while distant mountains and forests promised untapped tales of wild adventures.
Protected by its stalwart heroes and heroines, it was a land far from the minds and concerns of the ambitions seen far and wide across the continent.
But that did not mean it was devoid of shadows, nor that they were any lesser.
Within the alleys of Ouzelia, a shadow war was raging. And even the streets under the purview of the Clockwork Duchess were no exception.
A man hooded and cloaked swept from corner to corner.
Keeping himself to the walls, none paid any attention to this lone stranger. Despite the balmy sunlight and the crowds which thronged the town of Witschblume, he moved unseen like a shadow panther shrouded in magic.
Padding with soft steps, he slid himself along the side of a busy tavern. Even had those inside seen him, they would not have paid him any heed. Not even when a hand slipped from beneath his cloak and swiped at a notice bleached from the sunlight, leaving only a torn scrap stuck behind on its rusted nail.
The figure glanced around himself, yet neither resident nor guard challenged him.
He was a shadow. And shadows did not exist here in the flowering heart of Witschblume.
Moving swifter than an arrow in flight, his hand once again shot out, this time to slap a tall length of parchment lined with heavy-duty glue beside the nail. And on it was the face of a man all would recognise–unless they wore a full hood and cloak.
Sir Gardrin Pavont examined his drawing. He nodded with quiet satisfaction. Then he swept away for another corner, another alley, another street.
A job well done.
As the Hero of Heizholm glued his posters throughout the rival town of Witschblume, he was soon rewarded by the sound of giggling. Groups of maidens paused to discuss his drawing, taking note as well of the most recent news of his triumphs.
Recent being subjective.
In truth, it'd been some time since he'd last fought a killer orca with his pinky, rescued a damsel from a crumbling tower or wrestled the three heads of a hydra all at the same time.
Because any time he was defeating some nameless horror with designs on world conquest in some faraway tomb, he was losing on a different front.
The Cosmos Monthly Hero Popularity Rankings.
Sir Gardrin came to a stop, sighing at the unfairness of it all.
He was handsome, wealthy and popular. But did those things truly matter?
They say it was lonely at the top. But for Sir Gardrin, it was far too crowded.
Behind him, he could practically see the daring smile of Captain Rainier as he steered his immense galleon directly towards his ranking. A galleon. Compared to that, what was his silver armour and white steed? People could see Sir Gardrin's smile from exactly 3.27 kilometres away. A feat that was impressive all the way until everyone spotted that absurdly shining mast from the far horizon.
Even so, Sir Gardrin did not claw his way into the top ten rankings by meekly standing aside.
He vowed to continue onwards, one adhesively sticky poster of himself at a time … even if that meant occasionally being barrelled aside for the effort.
All of a sudden, he felt a jolt as a rotund man accidentally collided with him.
He knew it was accidental by virtue of the fact none of his hero's protections activated. If it'd been a dagger thrust from a sleeve, he'd have sensed the intent before the blade even left. But a baker wielding several sacks of flour? That may very well have been the death of him.
"Oh, sorry," said the man without looking.
"It's fine," came Sir Gardrin's gruff reply, so different from his usual tone that none would recognise him even beside his own posters. Particularly as he was about to become a hero purée.
As the baker waddled onwards, Sir Gardrin found himself squished as an entire throng converged upon him. And none of it due to his identity being revealed. The crowds all parted to the sides, ebbing away like tides. And the reason was instantly clear why.
The head maid of Witschblume Castle.
"Lady Uxna, please notice meeee!"
A notable figure amidst the region's political elite.
While a maid raised to nobility on a whim was ordinarily as devoid of power as a squire raised by a landless knight, as a representative of the ogre tribes, hers cut an impressive figure … and yet to Sir Gardrin's widening eyes, she went almost unseen.
His attention was on the maiden she was escorting.
He did a double-take at once. Not for the fact that the girl's elegance stood in contrast to the shaggy horse she was riding. Nor for the fact that she was clearly no resident of Ouzelia.
No … he had to look twice because he could barely stomach the sight of her.
A queasiness worse than spoiled porridge filled his stomach.
It was a deep, terrible discomfort worming away at his very being. Nausea, vertigo and an itch on the part of his back he couldn't reach all fought to overcome him in a tidal wave of unease. And the Hero of Heizholm experienced something he'd never known before. Not since he'd been gifted his sword.
Fear.
Sir Gardrin remembered little of this emotion.
He'd once headbutted a giant. Yet when he blinked at the young maiden atop her unkempt horse, he realised that as he tried to swallow, no moisture was left in his throat to do so.
And before he knew it, his hand was upon the hilt of his sword.
He shook his head as the fog lessened almost immediately, and what he saw after the 3rd … 4th attempt was very much a girl who did not hold herself as a swordswoman at all, despite the blade by her side.
Sir Gardrin knew at once from just the way she rode that she had lived a pampered lifestyle, caring more for appearance than posture. And were that all he saw, he may have convinced himself to let the matter be for a different hero to consider.
"It can't be," he whispered, daring to lift his hood slightly.
There, shining upon her hand as she gripped her horse's reins, was a copper ring.
And all thoughts of Cosmos Monthly left Sir Gardrin's mind. Because if dropping out of the top ten was the worst case scenario, then to see his livelihood lost to that organisation which replaced romance with bureaucracy was the second worst.
She was … an adventurer!
Sir Gardrin could only gawp as he watched the newcomer being escorted by Witschblume's head maid.
He already knew her destination. And so as much to force his mind to work as to stop himself from being turned to purée against one of his posters, he pressed his way through and followed.
Eventually, he had nothing but his cloak to hide him as the crowds thinned against the gates of the castle. And in the time that followed, he despaired.
Absentmindedly slapping posters on walls, he could only imagine why the Clockwork Duchess would send her own representative to meet with one of the guild's. She had her own heroine to care for, after all. One whose presence he'd yet to feel, despite the week he'd spent peppering her town with his face.
And suddenly, he wondered whether or not she truly was simply on a quest as he had assumed.
What if … What if the Clockwork Duchess, mad as she was, was considering allowing them a foothold?
That would spell disaster for them all!
It was a crisis. And for once, Sir Gardrin wished for a hero of his own. But he was all he had.
He was all every hero had.
As the girl left with only a sprightly attendant by her side, he watched as they left the eastern gate and made for all of Ouzelia. And Sir Gardrin knew they must be stopped.
No matter the cost.
Without wasting a moment of time, he whistled for his white stallion, and together, they went forth like the heralds of a storm. The world rushed past in a haze of colour as a hood and cloak was lost to the wind. In just mere moments, they'd caught up with the far slower horse … before promptly passing them via a wide berth in order to wait at a more appropriate setting ahead.
Sir Gardrin positioned himself upon a bridge with the sun behind his back.
The maidens started to gather the moment he fixed his smile in place.
There would be questions later regarding his presence in Witschblume, but this was no time to be concerned with rivalry. If adventurers were allowed to join Ouzelia's ranks, then Cosmos Monthly's rankings would swell astronomically for them all.
They would come like a plague, and nothing would be left of the charts but foreign names and faces.
"... I accept your service and dismiss you at once. I've no need of a stableboy. Should I do, I will call upon you from a distance."
Unless, of course, they were as charming as this.
Sir Gardrin ignored the ceaseless quips with a smile which failed to dent the maiden's heart.
That made him worry as much as hearing the admission she was here to rescue a dragon. A dragon. The very lifeblood of heroes. Whether it was to slay or befriend them, anything to do with dragons was to heroes what mutton was to a butcher.
It couldn't be lost.
Who she was and where she was from was irrelevant. Yet the fact that she was immune to his charms meant he'd need to resort to other means to politely hurry her away.
And what more civilised way was there than a knightly challenge?
Even if it was one so weighted in his favour that the other half of the scales was lost in the clouds.
As the officially appointed hero of Heizholm, he could perform manoeuvres the types of which acrobats who'd spent their childhood dancing upon the high lines of a circus would baulk at. It mattered little whether the danger was the bottle of a drunkard in a bar or the tusks of a frost mammoth.
If he saw it, he would evade it. And if he didn't see it, he would evade it to even more acclaim.
Few knew how the powers imbued by a Sword of Heroism truly functioned. Only that the older the sword, the more powerful the gifts, for they were more than weapons. In each blade was carried a bit of the experience of those who wielded it before.
Sir Gardrin did not boast an ogre's strength or an elf's nimbleness. Yet when he slapped away the rubble of a falling avalanche or swept through a forest with more grasping vines than leaves, it was with the technique of countless years of victory and defeat.
And so he readied himself with as little showmanship as he could muster. To disrespect a maiden from afar was not in his blood. But this was as much for her sake as it was his.
He would parry each and every strike, until satisfied that he'd humoured the adventurer's attempts at striking him for long enough that she and all to follow would understand the lack of need to their presence. And he would mark that moment by sending her sword flying through the air.
As a result–
"Poke."
He could only blink as the girl effortlessly prodded his armour instead.
"Ohhohohohhoho!! Is that it?! To whack away until I strike you?!"
Sir Gardrin felt like his soul had left him.
He'd … He'd been struck!
That simply didn't happen!
Water did not slide upwards and maidens did not prod his armour!
Instincts derived from generations of peers refused to permit it … and yet none of them could do more than complain in silence. He had not even seen the blade leave her side, much less strike towards him.
Swallowing an empty gulp, he immediately shook the moment away as utter lethargy on his part. A mistake he would not make again. Everything about the girl made him uncomfortable. But none of it was because he was terrified of her swordsmanship. It did not take a knight to know she was no duellist.
Regardless, he watched the girl with respect as he raised his sword in a guard.
And then–
"Poke."
He promptly gawped as her sword found itself prodding into his silver pauldron once more.
Sir Gardrin Pavont, Hero of Heizholm and Knight of the Cresting Sun, was gobsmacked.
His guard hadn't just been bypassed. It'd been ignored.
The sword he'd been watching was nothing more than a streak of flashing steel as swift as a mockingbird's wings … and all he heard was the laughter that followed.
"Ohhohohohohoho!!"
That was it.
Whoever she was, Sir Gardrin knew he could not allow her to have free reign over Ouzelia.
She was not just an adventurer. But Sir Gardrin was also no ordinary knight.
He was a hero of Ouzelia. And to protect the pride of himself and all around him, he could not allow sentiment to cloud what must be done.
He would use his powers of heroism. Not just passively. But with purpose.
Leaping from his horse, he assumed a posture he'd not made since his days sparring as a knight. As he held his sword with both hands, it was to mirror the slightest movement of the girl standing with no regard to what he would do next.
"[Cresting Glare]."
The light burned away all sight other than his own.
Yet he did not allow his caution to fade.
He couldn't.
For as she thrust forward her blade, it was all he could do to suck in a shallow breath in prayer. And for a moment, it seemed as if all the heavens had chosen to answer.
Strength and clarity filled him like a basin that was overflowing. He was weightless and free as the rest of the world turned still … all except for a blade continuing unerringly towards his breastplate.
Sir Gardrin prayed once more. And this time, his sword answered.
With a speed to defy his own arms, his blade swept up to meet the oncoming strike.
Sweat formed upon his brows as at the last moment, the broad length of his blade turned to act as a shield, blocking the very tip of that maiden's attack. Exhaustion threatened to overcome him at once, yet no spark of clashing steel or gasp of surprise rewarded his monumental effort.
For while he could stop that first strike, he could do little against what came next.
To his absolute horror … she began to scratch away.
"Life tempered beneath the night of a duvet, as verses forged in celestial ink! Poetry Form, 2nd Stance … [Midnight Muse]!"
Sir Gardrin felt as the other sword began to etch into his own.
He was as helpless as an oak to a woodpecker.
For a moment, he wasn't certain if any damage could be caused. But as he read the words of slander newly inscribed, he wished it had been.
The scars of a scratch could be repaired … embraced. But the poem pronouncing him twice divorced upon his badge of office was a mar without joy.
At once, only thoughts of mortification came over him, as severe as the silence of the maidens whose footsteps gradually shuffled away. Emptiness took his mind, and all he heard was the din of his own despair.
Only when the last had departed did he finally look behind him to see the back of a girl attempting to hurry her horse away, all the while a clockwork doll struggled to stop herself falling over with laughter.
And Sir Gardrin Pavont … couldn't help but join her.
"Ahaha … ahahaha … hahahahahahah!"
His shoulders slumped.
For the first time, he saw as his popularity ranking plummeted.
Even so … as he looked up at the departing girl and the blessed sunlight shining upon the smear written upon his sword, he strangely found he did not care.
A weight upon his shoulder had been lifted … and for the first time in years, he could hold his sword so high that even those from Heizholm could see the defamation emblazoned upon it.
Ah.
What had he been doing all this time?
He had forgotten what had made him a hero.
For as he watched the adventurer heading into the unknown, he saw what he should have been instead.
Sir Gardrin Pavont took a deep breath.
Then, he opened the saddlebag by his patient and pitying horse and tossed a stack of posters into the river. His face faded at once, before being taken by the current. And that was fine.
There were other ways to rise up the rankings. And he'd ensure that not even an adventurer could best him.
He was a hero. And he would work for his happy ending.