The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer
- Thread starter kayenano
- Start date
- Original
- Location
- Texas
Well, nice to see Caban is still alive and in good spirits.
Being a powerful magic wielder in this setting seems to have an extremely high correlation with becoming an power-crazed megalomaniac.
We're four for four now, between the exhibitionist shopkeeper, the wyvern elf druid, the projectile lich, and now Hartane the Goblin Queen.
Being a powerful magic wielder in this setting seems to have an extremely high correlation with becoming an power-crazed megalomaniac.
We're four for four now, between the exhibitionist shopkeeper, the wyvern elf druid, the projectile lich, and now Hartane the Goblin Queen.
- Location
- Argentina
Ah so this is the guy who tested the princess back at the start of the story?
Actually 4/5, we have the not evil wizard that even got an interlude.
Actually 4/5, we have the not evil wizard that even got an interlude.
Last edited:
Chapter 331: Forwarding Doom
New
My boots squished against the ground as I led the way, Starlight Grace in hand.
Squished.
Like wet sand. Except this wasn't quite the golden shoreline of my kingdom.
It was a goblin cave.
Despite my soles having stepped on everything which could either bend or groan, I had utterly no idea what this was. All I knew was that it wasn't the perilously short carpet being constantly rolled and unrolled before me whenever I visited a forgotten part of the kingdom.
And this part was so forgotten it didn't exist on any map.
Indeed, these caves were recently excavated.
The scars could still be seen. Broken pickaxes, makeshift shovels and spent bottles of something alchemical littered the ground and the sides of the tunnel, waiting for the first person to apologise to me to pick up.
They were the least problematic things.
Bedrolls made of straw and dead things circled around fires long spent, the soot having melted into the ground. Just as concerning were the burlap sacks happily contaminating the walls. Whatever their contents, they were avoided by even the mice which scurried past without pause.
Yes.
Mice.
The heralds of insomnia. The dancers upon the ceiling. The demons of my nightmares.
They'd come sensing a chance to earn that greatest of prizes.
A princess's scream of terror.
And this time … they may yet succeed.
A dark stream ran beside my footsteps, its song one of sadness as it was filtered away from the bright mountainside it belonged to. Around it, a strange moss grew on the smooth walls, the bristled ends strangling one another like hateful ivy.
Here and there, a shaft of sunlight breached the surface, yet did little other than to remind me of the warmth beyond this prison.
And everywhere I went, the sound of whispering answered.
Small figures with hunger in their eyes and barbs on their tails scuttled where Starlight Grace failed to reach, their steps joined by an indiscernible dripping, echoing like the drool of some unseen monster.
"Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnggggghhhh."
I tightened my grip around my hilt.
Once again, that dreadful groaning reverberated around us. Whether it was near or far, not even Coppelia could tell. And so I betrayed the smallest gulp.
A goblin cave. But not just any.
It was damp, dark and dirty. But it also possessed its own water supply, came fully furnished with discarded … things, and boasted a major town within walking distance.
A hole barely beholden to secrecy, just about hidden away in the mountains, and with easy access to all the amenities one could ever want.
In short … the dream lair of the royal capital's nobility.
"A horrifying spectacle," I said as my heart quivered. "I fear we shall not leave here unscathed."
My loyal handmaiden, ever steadfast in her duties, braved an unconcerned smile as she looked away from the vegetation on the walls. The strands nearest her retreated.
Understandable. If what I feared came to pass, even the walls themselves would wish to hide.
"Oh, because the cave moss has definitely tried to eat us at least twice? … In that case, don't worry! That just means they're healthy."
I shuddered.
Not just decoration, but carnivorous decoration. I could practically hear the salivating. And it wasn't from the cave moss.
"I'm afraid the vegetation is the least of our problems. A vermin infestation will soon be upon us. The goblins haven't just carved out a cave. They've fashioned it from the minds of the most uninspired. All the lords of my royal capital will be blocking our exit within seconds of the current tenants leaving. We'll need to force our way out. Their carriages will litter the horizon."
"I mean, that's sort of impressive as well."
"Indeed, I can't deny their expedience when it comes to either wriggling free of tax obligations or seeing their least impressive dreams come to fruition. It's what they train ceaselessly for in their cots."
"They train to block cave exits?"
"Not just a cave. A lair. Ugh. I can hear the hands rubbing gleefully together already. When the next coup planning committee meets, it will be here."
Coppelia looked thoughtfully around her.
"Hmm … I dunno. I've seen better lairs. I like natural lighting. This one is a bit sparse."
"Exactly. It is dreadful. A place devoid of both light and life. A cave mirroring the halls of the abyss, with ample room to be filled with all the bats, henchmen and tasteless furniture one could desire, fit for only the most vile of schemes and plots to take place."
"Okay, now you're selling me. How much for my own?"
"Dignity and pride."
"Done~!"
I nodded at Coppelia's enthusiasm.
Her willingness to sacrifice her standing to remove a lair from public availability was notable. But also a burden which she didn't need to bear.
"Your courage brings a tear to my eye. But I can hardly have you assume such a thankless responsibility. You'd be hounded day and night for the deed to this cave. And that means so would I."
"In that case, why not just keep it?"
I gasped at the very suggestion.
"We cannot possibly keep it. That'd be awful. Then we'd be known as the royal family who are beloved by all, cherished for our benevolence, famed for our wisdom, envied for our strength … and also the owners of a cave."
"But it's yours by default, right? It's not like anyone can just appear and say it's theirs. You know. Like you."
"True. But while nobility cannot click their fingers to requisition it, such an obstacle is less than a bar of soap to them. Don't underestimate their obstinance. They'll see my most loyal bureaucrats bribed or threatened until a map is conveniently discovered proving their ancestral claims to this hole."
I shook my head.
"... No, I'll need to dispose of it in one way or another. And seeing what I do now, I know it won't be long before those who come to admire the continent's most affordable castle also discover the true prize behind it. For the possibility of owning both, my royal capital would be upended of plotters. A holiday Roland deserves, but not if it results in a waterfall of schemes afterwards."
"Got it! Then there's only one thing to do."
Coppelia promptly puffed out her cheeks. I deflated them with a poke.
"I'm not blowing up a cave."
"All I'm saying is you've blown up a cave before."
"I have done nothing. And no circumstantial evidence will hold sway over a court of law while I'm standing menacingly over the judge. Besides, loathe as I am to admit this, the cave has value. This region has been known for its silver deposits in the past. The Miner's Guild might be tempted to purchase it at an inflated cost if further prospecting is a possibility."
A giggle filled the damp air.
"That's too practical."
"Coppelia, how could something be too practical?"
"If it's too practical, it's doomed to failure. That's just how things work."
I pursed my lips.
There was absolutely no fault with her argument.
"I see … do you have any suggestions?"
"Mmh~ I suggest hoisting it onto a hapless goon instead and seeing what happens. You might be surprised!"
That was absurd ... I wanted to say.
But then again, chaos gardening was also a thing. As impossible as it sounded. A product of too much wine in the Summer Kingdoms, where seeds were tossed without careful thought and left to bloom where they will.
Most resulted in a jungle of weeds, but every now and again, a white peony rose over the vomit of colours and disarray.
"Hmm." I considered the suggestion with a nod. "Unorthodox, but worthy of consideration. To purposefully offer land to a member of my serving staff would galvanise their work ethics. However, it would also invoke cries of both disbelief and nepotism."
Coppelia blinked.
"... Is that a bad thing?"
"No, it's good. But we can do better. Opportunities to earn my nobility's ire must be fully enjoyed, and few ways are better than a performative gesture of doing things above board. Thus, a cursory sum of say, 1 copper crown, and I shall offer this goblin cave to the most hapless servant in my court. Now with a receipt. The cave would be theirs in perpetuity. Including the litter."
"What about the loot?"
"Naturally, any valuables squirrelled away by the goblins is reserved for the kingdom."
"Alrighty! What I hear is that we need to loot everything before the next person does."
I nodded and smiled, happy she understood.
"Quite so. It's only prudent that we minimise the work of my inspectors while we're still here. Indeed, I've no doubt that even to their studious eyes, there are treasures expertly hidden amidst the crevasses and gaps. We must ensure that nothing is missed."
Coppelia raised an arm.
"Question!"
"Go ahead."
"What do we do about stuff that's right in front of us?"
"I suppose that depends on what it is."
"I'm thinking … something that's so obvious we need to step around it or trip over it."
"... Such as a suspicious treasure chest?"
"Such as a suspicious treasure chest!"
Our steps came to a halt.
There, in the middle of our path, was indeed something so obvious we needed to step around it or trip over it.
It was as blatant as they came.
A brightly painted treasure chest, red as a premium apple and trimmed in gold.
Lit by its own shaft of daylight, it was harder to miss than all the darkness around it.
For a moment, neither Coppelia nor myself said anything.
We simply stared.
Glossy, reflective, and very large.
An icon of riches. An oddity which stood out as much for its colour scheme as its value. The chest alone was clearly the most expensive thing we'd seen. Untarnished by any dents or scratches, it was formed of smooth, varnished wood with no crude panelling and few visible grains.
I blinked at the unexpected sight.
And then–
"My, how convenient!!" I placed a hand on my cheek, smiling in rare delight. "What do we have here? It seems the goblins have already prepared valuables for easy transportation! What a lucky find!"
"Eeehh?!"
"Come, Coppelia! Let's assess the value of the free gold inside."
"Hey! Time out! How can you be concerned about me picking up a cursed sack in a forest, but a suspicious treasure chest in the middle of a goblin cave is okay?!"
In response, I shifted my hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
"Ohohoho … why, that's because this isn't a suspicious treasure chest in a goblin cave. This is the first suspicious treasure chest in a goblin cave."
Coppelia's mouth opened, but no words came out.
Indeed, there was little she needed to say.
After all, my loyal handmaiden may be versed in the way of strange and unexplored dwellings … but I was versed in the way of anti-intruder, burglar and vandal design!
Ohoho … that's right!
I knew how this worked!
Whether it be alchemical flames which were too impractical to use, arrows which were never accurate no matter how many you shot, and … yes, chests drawn to lure the greed of robbers, there was nothing about classical trap design which I myself hadn't thoroughly discussed on an innocent summer's outing with my family!
Thus, I offered a smile as bright as the inviting red before us.
"You've nothing to fear," I said confidently. "The first treasure chest always contains free gold."
"There's no way this thing has free gold."
"E-Excuse me! I'll have you know it exists so that the next treasure chest can thoroughly do its business when all the intruders rush to gather around it, their guards now cruelly lowered! … Besides, I hardly see why your doubts should rise now. As you said, you yourself picked up a cursed sack of gold."
"Sure, but I was pretty sure I knew what it was. This thing is definitely trapped."
"It is not. In fact, I'm so certain that I'll bravely let you open it to find out."
"Ahaha~ that's cute. I like that. But this is your cave and your treasure. I can't take your stuff."
"Don't be silly. As my loyal and flame-proof handmaiden, you're overdue remuneration for your steadfast service. Please consider anything in this not trapped chest as a bonus."
I paused.
"... I am willing to waive the tax as well."
"You were going to tax me on treasure?!"
"Everything is taxable. The only things that aren't are gifts from princesses. Like this."
"There's no way this thing doesn't explode."
"Please, it's the first chest. The first chest never explodes. To do so would be beyond unseemly."
"Exactly. And that's hilarious."
I pursed my lips, realising once again that decorum only existed in the outside world to be blown up.
… Even so!
"Coppelia, we can hardly just ignore it."
"I think we can. Look, we can just step around it. Easy!"
"Easy until we're drowning in regret. It's far too close to the entrance. If we leave it be, all the layabouts in the guild will be drawn here like sunlight to my smile. We're trying to evict an adventurer, not entice more. One of us has to open it."
For a moment, Coppelia and I only stared at the waiting chest.
And then–
"Rock, paper, scissors, go!!"
I looked down at my small fist, as crushed by Coppelia's palm as my optimism for a first victory.
"Oho … ohoho ... v-very well, then! Just this once, I shall prove to you that the first chest is always free!"
"Yay~"
Coppelia beamed with anticipation as she stood far away. Her joyful expression turned to slight puzzlement when she saw me opening the chest in a roundabout fashion.
Namely, by pushing it away.
"Uff … hrghh … hnnghh …"
"... Eh? Aren't you going to open it?"
"Hm?" I glanced behind, ignoring the bead of sweat running past my smile. "Oh, this? Why, I am. It's just that in the impossible chance it's trapped, I really can't needlessly place myself in danger."
"Oh, okay! What will you do, then?"
"Open it from a distance."
Thus, I pushed the treasure chest towards where the stream vanished over a ledge.
A faint imprint was left in the damp ground like a boulder rolled across snow. Then, once the chest entered the stream and promptly dammed it, I peeked over the edge. Only darkness met my eyes, broken by a small twinkle reflected from the water's surface below.
I nodded in satisfaction.
Height to open the chest, check!
Water to extinguish any improbable explosion, check!
Denials should anyone ask if I'm responsible, check!
And thus–push.
"... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh …"
A moment later, Coppelia joined me in looking over.
She let out a nod of surprise.
"Huh, that's a lot of gold."
"Exactly. What did I tell you? Free gold and no explosions."
"I dunno. I'm not sure if we can call that free gold. That's a really big tongue coming out of that chest. And it's wrapping itself around the foot of that man."
I lowered Starlight Grace as much as I could, then narrowed my eyes.
"Hmm. How odd. Why would a peasant be swimming in a cave?"
"Probably the same reason he was trying to climb up a cave. That was one of the most dramatic screams I ever heard. It's not even that far."
I frowned while watching the scuffle between a peasant and a mimic below, considering how best to render assistance without sending all the gold in every direction … or at least until a small figure flew from the darkness to scratch at the mimic's pristine wooden exterior.
It was hissing, at least partly orange, and very much a cat.
"You think we should help?" asked Coppelia, snacking on a macaron from her pouch.
I watched as both a hand and a set of claws slapped away at the mimic until it retreated, cowed by the weight of a thousand scratches.
A moment later, the man lifted himself from the stream, now minus one tongue around his foot and plus one feline in his hands. He wore the look of someone who decided he was now permanently a cat owner.
I shook my head in regret.
"There's nothing we can do. He's doomed."
Squished.
Like wet sand. Except this wasn't quite the golden shoreline of my kingdom.
It was a goblin cave.
Despite my soles having stepped on everything which could either bend or groan, I had utterly no idea what this was. All I knew was that it wasn't the perilously short carpet being constantly rolled and unrolled before me whenever I visited a forgotten part of the kingdom.
And this part was so forgotten it didn't exist on any map.
Indeed, these caves were recently excavated.
The scars could still be seen. Broken pickaxes, makeshift shovels and spent bottles of something alchemical littered the ground and the sides of the tunnel, waiting for the first person to apologise to me to pick up.
They were the least problematic things.
Bedrolls made of straw and dead things circled around fires long spent, the soot having melted into the ground. Just as concerning were the burlap sacks happily contaminating the walls. Whatever their contents, they were avoided by even the mice which scurried past without pause.
Yes.
Mice.
The heralds of insomnia. The dancers upon the ceiling. The demons of my nightmares.
They'd come sensing a chance to earn that greatest of prizes.
A princess's scream of terror.
And this time … they may yet succeed.
A dark stream ran beside my footsteps, its song one of sadness as it was filtered away from the bright mountainside it belonged to. Around it, a strange moss grew on the smooth walls, the bristled ends strangling one another like hateful ivy.
Here and there, a shaft of sunlight breached the surface, yet did little other than to remind me of the warmth beyond this prison.
And everywhere I went, the sound of whispering answered.
Small figures with hunger in their eyes and barbs on their tails scuttled where Starlight Grace failed to reach, their steps joined by an indiscernible dripping, echoing like the drool of some unseen monster.
"Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnggggghhhh."
I tightened my grip around my hilt.
Once again, that dreadful groaning reverberated around us. Whether it was near or far, not even Coppelia could tell. And so I betrayed the smallest gulp.
A goblin cave. But not just any.
It was damp, dark and dirty. But it also possessed its own water supply, came fully furnished with discarded … things, and boasted a major town within walking distance.
A hole barely beholden to secrecy, just about hidden away in the mountains, and with easy access to all the amenities one could ever want.
In short … the dream lair of the royal capital's nobility.
"A horrifying spectacle," I said as my heart quivered. "I fear we shall not leave here unscathed."
My loyal handmaiden, ever steadfast in her duties, braved an unconcerned smile as she looked away from the vegetation on the walls. The strands nearest her retreated.
Understandable. If what I feared came to pass, even the walls themselves would wish to hide.
"Oh, because the cave moss has definitely tried to eat us at least twice? … In that case, don't worry! That just means they're healthy."
I shuddered.
Not just decoration, but carnivorous decoration. I could practically hear the salivating. And it wasn't from the cave moss.
"I'm afraid the vegetation is the least of our problems. A vermin infestation will soon be upon us. The goblins haven't just carved out a cave. They've fashioned it from the minds of the most uninspired. All the lords of my royal capital will be blocking our exit within seconds of the current tenants leaving. We'll need to force our way out. Their carriages will litter the horizon."
"I mean, that's sort of impressive as well."
"Indeed, I can't deny their expedience when it comes to either wriggling free of tax obligations or seeing their least impressive dreams come to fruition. It's what they train ceaselessly for in their cots."
"They train to block cave exits?"
"Not just a cave. A lair. Ugh. I can hear the hands rubbing gleefully together already. When the next coup planning committee meets, it will be here."
Coppelia looked thoughtfully around her.
"Hmm … I dunno. I've seen better lairs. I like natural lighting. This one is a bit sparse."
"Exactly. It is dreadful. A place devoid of both light and life. A cave mirroring the halls of the abyss, with ample room to be filled with all the bats, henchmen and tasteless furniture one could desire, fit for only the most vile of schemes and plots to take place."
"Okay, now you're selling me. How much for my own?"
"Dignity and pride."
"Done~!"
I nodded at Coppelia's enthusiasm.
Her willingness to sacrifice her standing to remove a lair from public availability was notable. But also a burden which she didn't need to bear.
"Your courage brings a tear to my eye. But I can hardly have you assume such a thankless responsibility. You'd be hounded day and night for the deed to this cave. And that means so would I."
"In that case, why not just keep it?"
I gasped at the very suggestion.
"We cannot possibly keep it. That'd be awful. Then we'd be known as the royal family who are beloved by all, cherished for our benevolence, famed for our wisdom, envied for our strength … and also the owners of a cave."
"But it's yours by default, right? It's not like anyone can just appear and say it's theirs. You know. Like you."
"True. But while nobility cannot click their fingers to requisition it, such an obstacle is less than a bar of soap to them. Don't underestimate their obstinance. They'll see my most loyal bureaucrats bribed or threatened until a map is conveniently discovered proving their ancestral claims to this hole."
I shook my head.
"... No, I'll need to dispose of it in one way or another. And seeing what I do now, I know it won't be long before those who come to admire the continent's most affordable castle also discover the true prize behind it. For the possibility of owning both, my royal capital would be upended of plotters. A holiday Roland deserves, but not if it results in a waterfall of schemes afterwards."
"Got it! Then there's only one thing to do."
Coppelia promptly puffed out her cheeks. I deflated them with a poke.
"I'm not blowing up a cave."
"All I'm saying is you've blown up a cave before."
"I have done nothing. And no circumstantial evidence will hold sway over a court of law while I'm standing menacingly over the judge. Besides, loathe as I am to admit this, the cave has value. This region has been known for its silver deposits in the past. The Miner's Guild might be tempted to purchase it at an inflated cost if further prospecting is a possibility."
A giggle filled the damp air.
"That's too practical."
"Coppelia, how could something be too practical?"
"If it's too practical, it's doomed to failure. That's just how things work."
I pursed my lips.
There was absolutely no fault with her argument.
"I see … do you have any suggestions?"
"Mmh~ I suggest hoisting it onto a hapless goon instead and seeing what happens. You might be surprised!"
That was absurd ... I wanted to say.
But then again, chaos gardening was also a thing. As impossible as it sounded. A product of too much wine in the Summer Kingdoms, where seeds were tossed without careful thought and left to bloom where they will.
Most resulted in a jungle of weeds, but every now and again, a white peony rose over the vomit of colours and disarray.
"Hmm." I considered the suggestion with a nod. "Unorthodox, but worthy of consideration. To purposefully offer land to a member of my serving staff would galvanise their work ethics. However, it would also invoke cries of both disbelief and nepotism."
Coppelia blinked.
"... Is that a bad thing?"
"No, it's good. But we can do better. Opportunities to earn my nobility's ire must be fully enjoyed, and few ways are better than a performative gesture of doing things above board. Thus, a cursory sum of say, 1 copper crown, and I shall offer this goblin cave to the most hapless servant in my court. Now with a receipt. The cave would be theirs in perpetuity. Including the litter."
"What about the loot?"
"Naturally, any valuables squirrelled away by the goblins is reserved for the kingdom."
"Alrighty! What I hear is that we need to loot everything before the next person does."
I nodded and smiled, happy she understood.
"Quite so. It's only prudent that we minimise the work of my inspectors while we're still here. Indeed, I've no doubt that even to their studious eyes, there are treasures expertly hidden amidst the crevasses and gaps. We must ensure that nothing is missed."
Coppelia raised an arm.
"Question!"
"Go ahead."
"What do we do about stuff that's right in front of us?"
"I suppose that depends on what it is."
"I'm thinking … something that's so obvious we need to step around it or trip over it."
"... Such as a suspicious treasure chest?"
"Such as a suspicious treasure chest!"
Our steps came to a halt.
There, in the middle of our path, was indeed something so obvious we needed to step around it or trip over it.
It was as blatant as they came.
A brightly painted treasure chest, red as a premium apple and trimmed in gold.
Lit by its own shaft of daylight, it was harder to miss than all the darkness around it.
For a moment, neither Coppelia nor myself said anything.
We simply stared.
Glossy, reflective, and very large.
An icon of riches. An oddity which stood out as much for its colour scheme as its value. The chest alone was clearly the most expensive thing we'd seen. Untarnished by any dents or scratches, it was formed of smooth, varnished wood with no crude panelling and few visible grains.
I blinked at the unexpected sight.
And then–
"My, how convenient!!" I placed a hand on my cheek, smiling in rare delight. "What do we have here? It seems the goblins have already prepared valuables for easy transportation! What a lucky find!"
"Eeehh?!"
"Come, Coppelia! Let's assess the value of the free gold inside."
"Hey! Time out! How can you be concerned about me picking up a cursed sack in a forest, but a suspicious treasure chest in the middle of a goblin cave is okay?!"
In response, I shifted my hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
"Ohohoho … why, that's because this isn't a suspicious treasure chest in a goblin cave. This is the first suspicious treasure chest in a goblin cave."
Coppelia's mouth opened, but no words came out.
Indeed, there was little she needed to say.
After all, my loyal handmaiden may be versed in the way of strange and unexplored dwellings … but I was versed in the way of anti-intruder, burglar and vandal design!
Ohoho … that's right!
I knew how this worked!
Whether it be alchemical flames which were too impractical to use, arrows which were never accurate no matter how many you shot, and … yes, chests drawn to lure the greed of robbers, there was nothing about classical trap design which I myself hadn't thoroughly discussed on an innocent summer's outing with my family!
Thus, I offered a smile as bright as the inviting red before us.
"You've nothing to fear," I said confidently. "The first treasure chest always contains free gold."
"There's no way this thing has free gold."
"E-Excuse me! I'll have you know it exists so that the next treasure chest can thoroughly do its business when all the intruders rush to gather around it, their guards now cruelly lowered! … Besides, I hardly see why your doubts should rise now. As you said, you yourself picked up a cursed sack of gold."
"Sure, but I was pretty sure I knew what it was. This thing is definitely trapped."
"It is not. In fact, I'm so certain that I'll bravely let you open it to find out."
"Ahaha~ that's cute. I like that. But this is your cave and your treasure. I can't take your stuff."
"Don't be silly. As my loyal and flame-proof handmaiden, you're overdue remuneration for your steadfast service. Please consider anything in this not trapped chest as a bonus."
I paused.
"... I am willing to waive the tax as well."
"You were going to tax me on treasure?!"
"Everything is taxable. The only things that aren't are gifts from princesses. Like this."
"There's no way this thing doesn't explode."
"Please, it's the first chest. The first chest never explodes. To do so would be beyond unseemly."
"Exactly. And that's hilarious."
I pursed my lips, realising once again that decorum only existed in the outside world to be blown up.
… Even so!
"Coppelia, we can hardly just ignore it."
"I think we can. Look, we can just step around it. Easy!"
"Easy until we're drowning in regret. It's far too close to the entrance. If we leave it be, all the layabouts in the guild will be drawn here like sunlight to my smile. We're trying to evict an adventurer, not entice more. One of us has to open it."
For a moment, Coppelia and I only stared at the waiting chest.
And then–
"Rock, paper, scissors, go!!"
I looked down at my small fist, as crushed by Coppelia's palm as my optimism for a first victory.
"Oho … ohoho ... v-very well, then! Just this once, I shall prove to you that the first chest is always free!"
"Yay~"
Coppelia beamed with anticipation as she stood far away. Her joyful expression turned to slight puzzlement when she saw me opening the chest in a roundabout fashion.
Namely, by pushing it away.
"Uff … hrghh … hnnghh …"
"... Eh? Aren't you going to open it?"
"Hm?" I glanced behind, ignoring the bead of sweat running past my smile. "Oh, this? Why, I am. It's just that in the impossible chance it's trapped, I really can't needlessly place myself in danger."
"Oh, okay! What will you do, then?"
"Open it from a distance."
Thus, I pushed the treasure chest towards where the stream vanished over a ledge.
A faint imprint was left in the damp ground like a boulder rolled across snow. Then, once the chest entered the stream and promptly dammed it, I peeked over the edge. Only darkness met my eyes, broken by a small twinkle reflected from the water's surface below.
I nodded in satisfaction.
Height to open the chest, check!
Water to extinguish any improbable explosion, check!
Denials should anyone ask if I'm responsible, check!
And thus–push.
"... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh …"
A moment later, Coppelia joined me in looking over.
She let out a nod of surprise.
"Huh, that's a lot of gold."
"Exactly. What did I tell you? Free gold and no explosions."
"I dunno. I'm not sure if we can call that free gold. That's a really big tongue coming out of that chest. And it's wrapping itself around the foot of that man."
I lowered Starlight Grace as much as I could, then narrowed my eyes.
"Hmm. How odd. Why would a peasant be swimming in a cave?"
"Probably the same reason he was trying to climb up a cave. That was one of the most dramatic screams I ever heard. It's not even that far."
I frowned while watching the scuffle between a peasant and a mimic below, considering how best to render assistance without sending all the gold in every direction … or at least until a small figure flew from the darkness to scratch at the mimic's pristine wooden exterior.
It was hissing, at least partly orange, and very much a cat.
"You think we should help?" asked Coppelia, snacking on a macaron from her pouch.
I watched as both a hand and a set of claws slapped away at the mimic until it retreated, cowed by the weight of a thousand scratches.
A moment later, the man lifted himself from the stream, now minus one tongue around his foot and plus one feline in his hands. He wore the look of someone who decided he was now permanently a cat owner.
I shook my head in regret.
"There's nothing we can do. He's doomed."
- Location
- Argentina
To be fair most cats watch you die instead of saving your life.
They are the judges and arbiters of life, as is their rightful place at the top of the ladder
Chapter 332: Discount Madness
New
"Hnnngh … uuuf … hooph …."
An orange, black and white cat appeared over the ledge.
And then the man whose head it sat upon.
Heavily breathing and with every inch of his face contorted in equal parts relief and regret, his palms slapped the damp ground as he desperately sought to anchor himself. Fingertips clawed with every morsel of his will as he slowly brought himself over the precipice, each digit twitching with fatigue.
A moment later–
"Haaaaaaaaaaah ……"
He belly flopped before me.
Yes, like a trout freshly escaped from the piranhas in the lake beside the Royal Villa.
I leaned far enough away that half of me was in another kingdom.
Even so … I wasn't certain if it was enough.
An unknown man in roughspun travelling attire and the start of an unkempt beard. Clearly a hooligan. And presenting himself to a princess while drenched in sweat! Why, that was worth at least three capital crimes … but today I would waive all four of them.
After all, nothing claimed the thin quality of his clothing more than the tears of joy running past his face.
It was only appropriate. To meet me after escaping a mimic for which I held no responsibility was the highlight of any hoodlum's day. Yes, even if said hoodlum's tears of joy seemed to be aimed solely towards the cat in his hands.
Rising upon his knees, he held the feline high like a holy chalice, drenched in a rare shaft of sunlight.
"Oooohh!! Incredible! Pepper saved me! That never happens! This is an omen! Usually it's me rescuing cats, not the other way around!"
The man beamed as he turned his attention to me and Coppelia.
He blinked as he took in the sight of my loyal handmaiden nibbling on a macaron. Then he did the same with me. Except the blinking never stopped.
Over and over, his eyes took on the soul of a curtain unable to decide whether to stay open or closed. He rubbed them with his drenched sleeves. And then he rose to his feet, moving the cat side to side while wondering why I wasn't fleeing during the brief moments it was between us.
I wondered the same thing as well.
"... Damn," he said, narrowing his eyes like a drunkard searching for his table. "Too much grog. Even being around that stuff is enough to make me see things."
I raised a brow.
"I've no idea what that is. But you may rejoice. The light you see blinding your eyes to the point of needing a cat as a veil is very much real."
The man's jaw dropped.
For a moment, he made no other response other than a bizarre gurgle. And while I couldn't understand the words, I understood the meaning. Joy beyond the ability to speak.
Indeed, he stood stock still, his face becoming ghastly pale as all sense of expression left him.
Thus … he left it to the cat.
A far more distinguished communicator than any commoner, the man raising the feline's paw, before leaning forwards and using it to nudge me in the shoulder.
Poke, poke.
Prod, prod.
Tap, tap.
Hmm.
How novel.
This was, indeed, the most unique insult I'd ever experienced.
Rarely could common hoodlums engrave themselves in history. Yet as I ignored Coppelia immediately joining in to poke me in the other shoulder, I knew at once this man had begun a trend worth more capital crimes than any abacus could count.
Still, the look of disbelief was only appropriate.
"... Princess?"
All the more so since he recognised who I was.
I was utterly taken aback.
Why, this man … he'd guessed my identity!
A commoner whose eyes were wincing through my overwhelming brightness and the appalling amounts of sweat falling from his brows … and he'd somehow seen through my masterful disguise where even my own nobility frequently failed!
I couldn't believe it. My secret was revealed. My presence in a mere cave exposed.
My hands clenched at once, knowing full well the danger of the situation.
For against the threat of my royal status being recognised … there was only one thing to do!
… To not betray the expectations of my people!
"Ohohohoho!" I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. "Indeed, I am a princess! You have my congratulations! Why, you have peered through a fog of deception more tangled than any witch's creation and seen through the subtleties of my expertly crafted persona as a … well, not a princess! Despite your appearance as a common highwayman, I see your eyes are as discerning as even the most trained of knights! … Name yourself, Sir Hoodlum! I shall not allow this feat to go unacknowledged! And depending on what you say, I may or may not allow you to go at all!"
The man blinked.
"Uh, no, we've actually met before."
"Excuse me?"
"It's me. Caban. Caban Oxwell."
I simply stared.
After a moment, the man's shoulders relaxed as he purposefully offered a far too easy smile. To my horror, it came with a flash of recognition in the back of my mind. An echo of a memory, ringing to the sound of uncontrollable, maddened laughter.
I rolled my hand, indicating for him to continue.
"We, um, we met at the Royal Villa."
I rolled my hand again.
"... In your orchard. You sliced a falling shortcake and, well, flicked away the rain. I offered to grade your swordsmanship. You disarmed me in the process. Quite handily, I should add."
I gasped.
My feet shuffled backwards. Yet it was all I could do to remain standing as the sheer weight of the memories returned to me like a tide reclaiming the shore.
The unkempt appearance. The blasé tone. The outrageous overfamiliarity.
The utter lack of respect regarding bowing, walking away and then waiting for his turn to be denied a meeting.
It … It was him!
The commoner who'd had the gall to draw a sword in my presence! … And then use it on me!
That in itself was awful … but worst of all, now he was forcing me to remember!
How … How dare he!!
"I … I cannot believe it," I said, barely able to contain my horror. "It … It is you! Why, even now, I remember every detail of that morning–"
"It was, uh, afternoon."
"That early, crisp morning as vividly as the sun which had only just crested the horizon! You … how did you come to escape your cell?!"
"My … My cell? Well, that was easy. I've never been in a cell."
"You haven't?"
"Not yet. I reckon there's still time, though."
I was mortified.
That this man hadn't once been discreetly bundled away without due process was outrageous!
Why, my last memory of him was of maniacal laughing in my orchard! Such a suspicious sight was clearly worthy of immediate sentencing! If he harassed one princess in her orchard, then who knew how many he'd callously stolen away from their shortcake inspecting duties under the guise of swordsmanship grading?!
Indeed, as I viewed the hue of his amazed smile and the clear awe in his eyes, I knew this man could be nothing but a prolific disturber of the peace!
"... V-Very well," I said with a small groan. "I see how this is. Mr–"
"Oxwell. Caban Oxwell."
"Mr. Oddwell, I realise a chance encounter with me is a dream notion. But to prepare a meeting in such a conspicuous manner twice is highly inappropriate. Neither my orchard nor a cave is suitable for conversation. If you wish for my time, there are official channels, a very long waiting list and also several titles you need to first attain."
To my horror, I only received a small laugh.
"True, it does feel like I'm skipping a few queues here. But it wasn't me who decided this meeting. It was Lady Luck."
"Lady Luck is in arrears. She owes me more than anything she has left to give. She is in no position to bestow fortune upon anyone but myself."
"In that case, it probably explains how I ended up here. Well, both me and Pepper, it seems."
"... Who is Pepper?"
He held up the cat. It licked its nose.
And just like that–everything became clear.
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes.
An adventurer with a cat. I suppose that was a tale which told itself.
"The guild is this direction," I duly said, pointing vaguely behind me. "However, when presenting the cat, do not mention me. No matter how much I helped you climb this modest cliff, I wish for no credit in the feline's rescue."
"Uh, right, I'll keep that in mind … although credit isn't really on my mind right now. More just the question of what you're doing here. In a goblin cave."
He paused.
"... Um, Your Highness."
I let out a sigh.
"I ask myself that every moment. Be that as it may, this cave is in dispute. It has failed to be sanctioned by my family. And neither goblins nor errant adventurers have the authority to see so much as a single pebble removed from this mountain. Therefore, I'm here to make a settlement entirely in my favour."
The man's eyes widened.
He peered towards the sword in my hand, its light no less than when he'd first seen it drawn.
"I … I see! That's … well, that's incredible news! Word has escaped about Miss Harten, then?"
"... Who?"
"Miss Harten. Liliane Harten. The A-rank adventurer who's taken control of the goblin tribe here."
"Oh, in that case, yes. That's why I'm here."
"Amazing! How many knights did you bring?"
"None."
"Huh?"
"My ears are perfectly functional. I've no need for knights to test them."
"You … You came here without any knights? Did you bring mages, then? From the Royal Institute?"
"Most certainly not. Every mage from the Royal Institute is busy. And until they've finished beggaring themselves by removing every artifact from their vaults, they'll continue to be busy."
The man blinked.
"I don't understand. Who did you bring, then?"
"I brought Coppelia."
I pointed helpfully at the clockwork doll beside me. She offered a cheerful wave.
"Hi there~ I'm Coppelia." She retrieved a macaron from her pouch. "Want a snack?"
The man only looked confused. Especially at the colour of the snack in question.
"It … It looks pretty black, doesn't it?"
"It's a regional specialty."
"Oh, what region?"
"Ouzelia."
The hand which had been reaching out in politeness stilled. He brought it back to help hold the cat instead.
"I'm … not really a macaron person. I'll pass, but thanks."
Coppelia puffed out a cheek in disappointment. Then, rather than eat it herself, it vanished back into the depths of her pouch to further mature instead.
Neither myself nor the commoner made any comment.
"A clockwork doll," he said after a moment. "A fitting aide for a princess. But surely, you brought more with you? What about your guards? Your servants?"
"True, they should be with me regardless of time, distance or knowledge of where I am. Regardless, my visit to Marinsgarde was unexpected. This particular detour even more so."
"Wait … you came here, just the two of you?"
"Indeed, and I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. I happen to be masterfully incognito. But you've little to fear. There is no vagrant either Coppelia or myself cannot punt ourselves."
The man's brows scrunched in thought.
For a long moment, he wore the look of a man trying desperately in vain to guess the generosity of a princess whose benevolence went as far as wherever my diplomats were ordered to espouse. A wrinkle formed on his forehead as he carefully considered the sword in my hand and Coppelia by my side.
And then–
"Hah … hahah …"
He simply laughed.
My body tensed as I feared a recurrence of my orchard. Yet instead of filling these caves with unexplainable glee, he sucked in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.
The cat in his hands mewed, not displeased by the motion.
"... Right. Well, I admit I'm surprised to see a princess here. But it's not like I don't understand as well. For someone like you, I imagine it's not your first time leaving your tower behind, huh?"
I was appalled by the insinuation.
Whatever reasons he believed me to be here, this was very much my first time leaving my tower behind. At least without the comforts of a royal carriage. And I was quite the poorer for it!
"It's the same with my master as well," he added with a chuckle. "However many drinks he serves, I know he's not as retired as he claims to be. For a village where his bar is the only decent entertainment around, he's shut up shop a lot more times than I reckon is good for business. A lot of 'old friends' he suddenly misses. You've no need to worry, Your Highness, I didn't see a thing."
Then, with approximately all his words flying past my ears, he straightened his back.
The easy smile upon his face passed with the acumen of an actor upon the Royal Arc Theatre, replaced by a look of utmost seriousness instead.
The most impressive thing I saw from any adventurer thus far.
"I don't know what you've heard to bring you here, Your Highness. Whether it was news or a sixth sense. But you have to leave. You're in danger. All of us are."
"Yes, well, that much is obvious. The damp ground is literally seeking to swallow my soles. I shall need to put the shoemakers of Marinsgarde to work before I depart."
"No, uh, it's more than that … it's Miss Harten. She, well, she put on a goblin hat."
I raised a brow.
"So I've been told. Thank you for the warning, but rest assured, though my eyes may burn from the sight of goblin fashion, I have seen worse in my corridors."
"That thing on her head isn't a fashion piece. It's some kind of magic crown. And it did things … is doing things to her. We looted it from a queen jewel spider. The moment she put it on, she changed."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she isn't quite there in the head anymore. It started with something about helping Marinsgarde, but I can tell you the town is barely in her thoughts anymore. And now I don't know what is … only that it's bad."
The man pursed his lips. The cat joined him in a frown.
"Miss Harten has a good heart. I'm sure of that. She'd never have reached A-rank otherwise. But that crown … it's given her power. Power I can't explain. I've seen her paint a sky with a mountain. And from what I can tell, she plans to keep sweeping that brush. That's why you need to get your knights. You'll need to get them all, and mages besides, because there's no telling what that crown is … uh, Princess?"
I held my finger.
"Wait, you're telling me this adventurer has gained newly derived unfathomable power from a magical crown?"
"Well, yeah."
"I see."
I nodded.
A moment later–
"Ohohoohohohoho!!"
My sword waved in every direction, my other hand pressed upon my stomach.
"Ohoho … oohohohhho … ohohohohho … oho … ho …"
Only after the cramping had subsided did I gather myself.
With a smile, I flattened down the front of my hair and wiped a lonely tear from the corner of my eye.
"... My, is that it?"
"Uh, what?"
"So an adventurer decided to nonchalantly test the droppings of monsters by placing it upon her head. All this time, I wondered what could have driven someone to such madness that they'd threaten consecutive late nights for my diplomats. It turns out it's the most simple. Utter brazenness."
Indeed, here was a tale as old as time.
How many of the cursed artifacts in the Royal Villa's vaults were themselves retrieved from the minds of the addled? If anything, this was a disappointment. For being the downfall of the Adventurer's Guild, I'd have preferred to exploit a more original motive than this.
Still, it could have been worse.
I hardly expected to find such a classic woven within a goblin cave in the first place. Perhaps Coppelia was right.
If given to the right or wrong person, I might be pleasantly surprised.
"Princess … it's more than madness that crown brings. She called it a crown of empowerment."
"And she still put it on? I don't even know what that is and know it's obviously cursed."
"A crown of empowerment is a special type of hat," explained Coppelia enthusiastically. "They're often an archmage's final creation, since they contain a portion of their magic. Unlike normal magical hats which just makes someone better at what they do, a crown of empowerment can directly confer the abilities of whoever made it. They're very rare and expensive."
"Really? How expensive?"
"Extremely. The best ones go for a kingdom."
"I see." My mood brightened. "Then it seems this detour wasn't for nought. This … goblin hat shall be of use to the kingdom as a forgotten glint in my family's vaults."
Far from nodding in agreement, the adventurer before me only looked exasperated.
"Princess, wait … I've no doubt of your confidence. And your sword–I saw it myself. But so long as that crown is on Miss Harten's head, it'll be more than raindrops she'll cast on you."
"Is that so?" I smiled and turned. "... Good. The mud would have given me pause."
An orange, black and white cat appeared over the ledge.
And then the man whose head it sat upon.
Heavily breathing and with every inch of his face contorted in equal parts relief and regret, his palms slapped the damp ground as he desperately sought to anchor himself. Fingertips clawed with every morsel of his will as he slowly brought himself over the precipice, each digit twitching with fatigue.
A moment later–
"Haaaaaaaaaaah ……"
He belly flopped before me.
Yes, like a trout freshly escaped from the piranhas in the lake beside the Royal Villa.
I leaned far enough away that half of me was in another kingdom.
Even so … I wasn't certain if it was enough.
An unknown man in roughspun travelling attire and the start of an unkempt beard. Clearly a hooligan. And presenting himself to a princess while drenched in sweat! Why, that was worth at least three capital crimes … but today I would waive all four of them.
After all, nothing claimed the thin quality of his clothing more than the tears of joy running past his face.
It was only appropriate. To meet me after escaping a mimic for which I held no responsibility was the highlight of any hoodlum's day. Yes, even if said hoodlum's tears of joy seemed to be aimed solely towards the cat in his hands.
Rising upon his knees, he held the feline high like a holy chalice, drenched in a rare shaft of sunlight.
"Oooohh!! Incredible! Pepper saved me! That never happens! This is an omen! Usually it's me rescuing cats, not the other way around!"
The man beamed as he turned his attention to me and Coppelia.
He blinked as he took in the sight of my loyal handmaiden nibbling on a macaron. Then he did the same with me. Except the blinking never stopped.
Over and over, his eyes took on the soul of a curtain unable to decide whether to stay open or closed. He rubbed them with his drenched sleeves. And then he rose to his feet, moving the cat side to side while wondering why I wasn't fleeing during the brief moments it was between us.
I wondered the same thing as well.
"... Damn," he said, narrowing his eyes like a drunkard searching for his table. "Too much grog. Even being around that stuff is enough to make me see things."
I raised a brow.
"I've no idea what that is. But you may rejoice. The light you see blinding your eyes to the point of needing a cat as a veil is very much real."
The man's jaw dropped.
For a moment, he made no other response other than a bizarre gurgle. And while I couldn't understand the words, I understood the meaning. Joy beyond the ability to speak.
Indeed, he stood stock still, his face becoming ghastly pale as all sense of expression left him.
Thus … he left it to the cat.
A far more distinguished communicator than any commoner, the man raising the feline's paw, before leaning forwards and using it to nudge me in the shoulder.
Poke, poke.
Prod, prod.
Tap, tap.
Hmm.
How novel.
This was, indeed, the most unique insult I'd ever experienced.
Rarely could common hoodlums engrave themselves in history. Yet as I ignored Coppelia immediately joining in to poke me in the other shoulder, I knew at once this man had begun a trend worth more capital crimes than any abacus could count.
Still, the look of disbelief was only appropriate.
"... Princess?"
All the more so since he recognised who I was.
I was utterly taken aback.
Why, this man … he'd guessed my identity!
A commoner whose eyes were wincing through my overwhelming brightness and the appalling amounts of sweat falling from his brows … and he'd somehow seen through my masterful disguise where even my own nobility frequently failed!
I couldn't believe it. My secret was revealed. My presence in a mere cave exposed.
My hands clenched at once, knowing full well the danger of the situation.
For against the threat of my royal status being recognised … there was only one thing to do!
… To not betray the expectations of my people!
"Ohohohoho!" I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. "Indeed, I am a princess! You have my congratulations! Why, you have peered through a fog of deception more tangled than any witch's creation and seen through the subtleties of my expertly crafted persona as a … well, not a princess! Despite your appearance as a common highwayman, I see your eyes are as discerning as even the most trained of knights! … Name yourself, Sir Hoodlum! I shall not allow this feat to go unacknowledged! And depending on what you say, I may or may not allow you to go at all!"
The man blinked.
"Uh, no, we've actually met before."
"Excuse me?"
"It's me. Caban. Caban Oxwell."
I simply stared.
After a moment, the man's shoulders relaxed as he purposefully offered a far too easy smile. To my horror, it came with a flash of recognition in the back of my mind. An echo of a memory, ringing to the sound of uncontrollable, maddened laughter.
I rolled my hand, indicating for him to continue.
"We, um, we met at the Royal Villa."
I rolled my hand again.
"... In your orchard. You sliced a falling shortcake and, well, flicked away the rain. I offered to grade your swordsmanship. You disarmed me in the process. Quite handily, I should add."
I gasped.
My feet shuffled backwards. Yet it was all I could do to remain standing as the sheer weight of the memories returned to me like a tide reclaiming the shore.
The unkempt appearance. The blasé tone. The outrageous overfamiliarity.
The utter lack of respect regarding bowing, walking away and then waiting for his turn to be denied a meeting.
It … It was him!
The commoner who'd had the gall to draw a sword in my presence! … And then use it on me!
That in itself was awful … but worst of all, now he was forcing me to remember!
How … How dare he!!
"I … I cannot believe it," I said, barely able to contain my horror. "It … It is you! Why, even now, I remember every detail of that morning–"
"It was, uh, afternoon."
"That early, crisp morning as vividly as the sun which had only just crested the horizon! You … how did you come to escape your cell?!"
"My … My cell? Well, that was easy. I've never been in a cell."
"You haven't?"
"Not yet. I reckon there's still time, though."
I was mortified.
That this man hadn't once been discreetly bundled away without due process was outrageous!
Why, my last memory of him was of maniacal laughing in my orchard! Such a suspicious sight was clearly worthy of immediate sentencing! If he harassed one princess in her orchard, then who knew how many he'd callously stolen away from their shortcake inspecting duties under the guise of swordsmanship grading?!
Indeed, as I viewed the hue of his amazed smile and the clear awe in his eyes, I knew this man could be nothing but a prolific disturber of the peace!
"... V-Very well," I said with a small groan. "I see how this is. Mr–"
"Oxwell. Caban Oxwell."
"Mr. Oddwell, I realise a chance encounter with me is a dream notion. But to prepare a meeting in such a conspicuous manner twice is highly inappropriate. Neither my orchard nor a cave is suitable for conversation. If you wish for my time, there are official channels, a very long waiting list and also several titles you need to first attain."
To my horror, I only received a small laugh.
"True, it does feel like I'm skipping a few queues here. But it wasn't me who decided this meeting. It was Lady Luck."
"Lady Luck is in arrears. She owes me more than anything she has left to give. She is in no position to bestow fortune upon anyone but myself."
"In that case, it probably explains how I ended up here. Well, both me and Pepper, it seems."
"... Who is Pepper?"
He held up the cat. It licked its nose.
And just like that–everything became clear.
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes.
An adventurer with a cat. I suppose that was a tale which told itself.
"The guild is this direction," I duly said, pointing vaguely behind me. "However, when presenting the cat, do not mention me. No matter how much I helped you climb this modest cliff, I wish for no credit in the feline's rescue."
"Uh, right, I'll keep that in mind … although credit isn't really on my mind right now. More just the question of what you're doing here. In a goblin cave."
He paused.
"... Um, Your Highness."
I let out a sigh.
"I ask myself that every moment. Be that as it may, this cave is in dispute. It has failed to be sanctioned by my family. And neither goblins nor errant adventurers have the authority to see so much as a single pebble removed from this mountain. Therefore, I'm here to make a settlement entirely in my favour."
The man's eyes widened.
He peered towards the sword in my hand, its light no less than when he'd first seen it drawn.
"I … I see! That's … well, that's incredible news! Word has escaped about Miss Harten, then?"
"... Who?"
"Miss Harten. Liliane Harten. The A-rank adventurer who's taken control of the goblin tribe here."
"Oh, in that case, yes. That's why I'm here."
"Amazing! How many knights did you bring?"
"None."
"Huh?"
"My ears are perfectly functional. I've no need for knights to test them."
"You … You came here without any knights? Did you bring mages, then? From the Royal Institute?"
"Most certainly not. Every mage from the Royal Institute is busy. And until they've finished beggaring themselves by removing every artifact from their vaults, they'll continue to be busy."
The man blinked.
"I don't understand. Who did you bring, then?"
"I brought Coppelia."
I pointed helpfully at the clockwork doll beside me. She offered a cheerful wave.
"Hi there~ I'm Coppelia." She retrieved a macaron from her pouch. "Want a snack?"
The man only looked confused. Especially at the colour of the snack in question.
"It … It looks pretty black, doesn't it?"
"It's a regional specialty."
"Oh, what region?"
"Ouzelia."
The hand which had been reaching out in politeness stilled. He brought it back to help hold the cat instead.
"I'm … not really a macaron person. I'll pass, but thanks."
Coppelia puffed out a cheek in disappointment. Then, rather than eat it herself, it vanished back into the depths of her pouch to further mature instead.
Neither myself nor the commoner made any comment.
"A clockwork doll," he said after a moment. "A fitting aide for a princess. But surely, you brought more with you? What about your guards? Your servants?"
"True, they should be with me regardless of time, distance or knowledge of where I am. Regardless, my visit to Marinsgarde was unexpected. This particular detour even more so."
"Wait … you came here, just the two of you?"
"Indeed, and I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. I happen to be masterfully incognito. But you've little to fear. There is no vagrant either Coppelia or myself cannot punt ourselves."
The man's brows scrunched in thought.
For a long moment, he wore the look of a man trying desperately in vain to guess the generosity of a princess whose benevolence went as far as wherever my diplomats were ordered to espouse. A wrinkle formed on his forehead as he carefully considered the sword in my hand and Coppelia by my side.
And then–
"Hah … hahah …"
He simply laughed.
My body tensed as I feared a recurrence of my orchard. Yet instead of filling these caves with unexplainable glee, he sucked in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.
The cat in his hands mewed, not displeased by the motion.
"... Right. Well, I admit I'm surprised to see a princess here. But it's not like I don't understand as well. For someone like you, I imagine it's not your first time leaving your tower behind, huh?"
I was appalled by the insinuation.
Whatever reasons he believed me to be here, this was very much my first time leaving my tower behind. At least without the comforts of a royal carriage. And I was quite the poorer for it!
"It's the same with my master as well," he added with a chuckle. "However many drinks he serves, I know he's not as retired as he claims to be. For a village where his bar is the only decent entertainment around, he's shut up shop a lot more times than I reckon is good for business. A lot of 'old friends' he suddenly misses. You've no need to worry, Your Highness, I didn't see a thing."
Then, with approximately all his words flying past my ears, he straightened his back.
The easy smile upon his face passed with the acumen of an actor upon the Royal Arc Theatre, replaced by a look of utmost seriousness instead.
The most impressive thing I saw from any adventurer thus far.
"I don't know what you've heard to bring you here, Your Highness. Whether it was news or a sixth sense. But you have to leave. You're in danger. All of us are."
"Yes, well, that much is obvious. The damp ground is literally seeking to swallow my soles. I shall need to put the shoemakers of Marinsgarde to work before I depart."
"No, uh, it's more than that … it's Miss Harten. She, well, she put on a goblin hat."
I raised a brow.
"So I've been told. Thank you for the warning, but rest assured, though my eyes may burn from the sight of goblin fashion, I have seen worse in my corridors."
"That thing on her head isn't a fashion piece. It's some kind of magic crown. And it did things … is doing things to her. We looted it from a queen jewel spider. The moment she put it on, she changed."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean she isn't quite there in the head anymore. It started with something about helping Marinsgarde, but I can tell you the town is barely in her thoughts anymore. And now I don't know what is … only that it's bad."
The man pursed his lips. The cat joined him in a frown.
"Miss Harten has a good heart. I'm sure of that. She'd never have reached A-rank otherwise. But that crown … it's given her power. Power I can't explain. I've seen her paint a sky with a mountain. And from what I can tell, she plans to keep sweeping that brush. That's why you need to get your knights. You'll need to get them all, and mages besides, because there's no telling what that crown is … uh, Princess?"
I held my finger.
"Wait, you're telling me this adventurer has gained newly derived unfathomable power from a magical crown?"
"Well, yeah."
"I see."
I nodded.
A moment later–
"Ohohoohohohoho!!"
My sword waved in every direction, my other hand pressed upon my stomach.
"Ohoho … oohohohhho … ohohohohho … oho … ho …"
Only after the cramping had subsided did I gather myself.
With a smile, I flattened down the front of my hair and wiped a lonely tear from the corner of my eye.
"... My, is that it?"
"Uh, what?"
"So an adventurer decided to nonchalantly test the droppings of monsters by placing it upon her head. All this time, I wondered what could have driven someone to such madness that they'd threaten consecutive late nights for my diplomats. It turns out it's the most simple. Utter brazenness."
Indeed, here was a tale as old as time.
How many of the cursed artifacts in the Royal Villa's vaults were themselves retrieved from the minds of the addled? If anything, this was a disappointment. For being the downfall of the Adventurer's Guild, I'd have preferred to exploit a more original motive than this.
Still, it could have been worse.
I hardly expected to find such a classic woven within a goblin cave in the first place. Perhaps Coppelia was right.
If given to the right or wrong person, I might be pleasantly surprised.
"Princess … it's more than madness that crown brings. She called it a crown of empowerment."
"And she still put it on? I don't even know what that is and know it's obviously cursed."
"A crown of empowerment is a special type of hat," explained Coppelia enthusiastically. "They're often an archmage's final creation, since they contain a portion of their magic. Unlike normal magical hats which just makes someone better at what they do, a crown of empowerment can directly confer the abilities of whoever made it. They're very rare and expensive."
"Really? How expensive?"
"Extremely. The best ones go for a kingdom."
"I see." My mood brightened. "Then it seems this detour wasn't for nought. This … goblin hat shall be of use to the kingdom as a forgotten glint in my family's vaults."
Far from nodding in agreement, the adventurer before me only looked exasperated.
"Princess, wait … I've no doubt of your confidence. And your sword–I saw it myself. But so long as that crown is on Miss Harten's head, it'll be more than raindrops she'll cast on you."
"Is that so?" I smiled and turned. "... Good. The mud would have given me pause."
Chapter 333: Critical Failure
New
A glint in the darkness met Starlight Grace's light.
But this wasn't the surface of the dark stream running beside me or the reflection of the rounded walls. It was a glimmer so distinguishable that I could already see it as an impractically shaped tiara being tossed through my window.
Silver.
I gasped in delight.
As I delved deeper within the ever narrowing tunnels of these illegally made caves, whatever consternation I felt was swept away by the warmth of precious ore.
The veins streaked across the wall like frozen cobwebs, as beautiful and shining as the despair upon the faces of the Miner's Guild. They would have their cut, of course. But since they neither excavated these caves nor prospected these veins, it meant each dollop of sweat they exuded was worth only a fraction of what they could've demanded.
Ohohohoho … it was wonderful!
Such a find was beyond the dead snails and sheltering highwaymen I expected to greet me! While the mountains overlooking Marinsgarde contained silver in the past, even the most desperate of nobility had baulked at the idea of funding the expeditions required to seek out more!
The goblins had done it for free.
Naturally, I was overjoyed.
However, while this was a cause for nothing less than two … maybe three bunny hops, to celebrate now was to invite needless peril.
For one thing, there were witnesses.
But for another, it was more than the weight of the air as we followed the darkness which threatened my ability to mine these mountains dry a second time.
It was an adventurer.
And not only the one waiting for me.
"... No, Pepper, you made your choice. You either had to stay back where I knew where I could find you or you come with me. Don't worry, I'll make you a Goblin Surprise as soon as I can."
Trailing just behind Coppelia and myself, the adventurer with a cat was every omen I didn't desire.
Armed with only a blunt mining pick designed to shatter the silver veins and a feline which could leap off his shoulder and trigger traps as easily as any waddling duck, all I saw was a premonition of calamity.
A problem, then.
Because despite experiencing my regal aura twice in short succession, nothing regarding decorum and the need to make a graceful exit had managed to rub off on him.
"Mr. Oddwell," I said in a polite tone, keeping away from the walls so he would as well. "While I'm truly delighted for the information you've offered regarding this …"
"Liliane Harten."
"Yes, her. While I acknowledge your assistance thus far, I believe your current task is to safely deliver this lost cat to its owner. I cannot ensure its safety. Nor yours, for that matter. I must reiterate that you're a swordsman currently without a sword. This is not helpful. At all."
Much to my chagrin, the adventurer only gripped his pickaxe tighter.
His shoulders stiffened and back straightened. He would doubtless have reacted the same had I challenged him not to consume the entire contents of a communal cauldron, pieces of shoes and all.
"I understand, Princess," he said, not understanding in the slightest. "Be that as it may, my part in this is unfinished. I was there when Miss Harten wore the crown. I bear responsibility. If I was stronger, she wouldn't have needed to use it."
"I see … and how do you intend to use that lack of strength to rectify that woman's mistake?"
The man gave a shrug. I could only groan.
"Her mind's elsewhere, but we can still bring it back. I'm sure of it. Liliane Harten isn't lost to us. We just need to reach through to her. There's a lot about how that crown works which neither of us knows about. But whatever we find ahead of us, I reckon we'll at least have a better chance together than apart."
I nodded. The words were well spoken.
"Please leave."
"Princess! If … If you fear me being a burden, then rest assured, I do not need a sword to fight!"
"To sacrifice yourself for my sake is a noble goal. And I acknowledge that. However, it is not your loyalty or even your lack of a weapon which is a burden. It is that."
I pointed at the copper ring disgracing his finger.
Then, I gestured all around me.
"This is a goblin cave filled with traps. You are an adventurer. There is no scenario in which your presence won't result in disaster. Your profession demands it. Why, you were just magically struck by an airborne treasure chest!"
"Yeah, uh, I can't really explain that one," he said, rubbing his head. "But other than mimics falling from the sky, I'm good at avoiding the worst of things. I'm light on my feet, just as much as Pepper is here."
I paused, then leaned towards him.
"So what you're saying is that you're adept at avoiding highly lethal traps likely to cause explosions?"
"Well, I'm no ranger, but I've got good eyes and an even better sense for danger."
"And how many traps have you triggered before?"
"One or two," he admitted. "But each was a learning experience back when I was new. I've done my share of goblin caves now and more besides. I'm confident I won't trigger any traps now."
"... Once more."
"Excuse me?"
"Repeat that line once more. And also spin around."
The man blinked in confusion.
Then, seeing only seriousness scribbled across my face, he slowly began to spin around.
"I'm, uh, confident I won't trigger any traps now."
I waited, my ears primed for a sudden click followed by a rumbling in the near distance.
Nothing came.
I sighed, then turned and continued onwards.
"... Fine, but don't touch anything."
An enthusiastic nod answered at once.
"Not touching anything," he said, raising his pickaxe. "Not least with this. I wouldn't fancy myself against even a novice mage with this. And certainly not Miss Harten. But then again, I hope we'll only need her own good senses as our weapon."
"I find sense to be a rare thing in a cave. It is rarer in those who stick magic hats upon their scalp."
"I still have hope. You might not know much about her, but Liliane Harten is one of the youngest to have ever reached A-rank. It's incredible, really, thinking about the things she must have done to achieve it. After all, A-rank puts her among the most respected, highly acclaimed and famous of adventurers."
"Ack, hack, ugh, uck …"
"Uh, princess?"
"M-My apologies, I suddenly found something very uncomfortable in the back of my throat …"
"I … I see. Are you well or … ?"
"I'm … I'm okay … A-rank is … yes … truly, that … that is an impressive, horrifically impressive rank to have reached … and she's one of the youngest? How … How long did it take her?"
"Well, um, I'm not sure on the exact number. But it wasn't too far past 10 years."
"10 … 10 years?!"
The man nodded wholeheartedly.
"Yeah, impressive, right? But there's been faster. Like the Snow Dancer. She reached it in record time. An A-rank elven sword saint. Now that's something … although lately, I'm actually hearing rumours of someone else flying up the ranks as well."
A smile of appreciation lit up the darkness, battling against the horror from my face.
"Then again, there's always rumours like that. Still, who knows? Maybe in a few years, we might just have another A-rank in our midst … but I suppose such things as ranks don't really matter to you, huh?"
"Of … Of course not … w-whatever rank someone is classified against their will is utterly meaningless! I-Indeed, the only rank that matters is one's princess rank, and mine is already the highest tier available!"
I smiled and nodded … all the while ensuring my copper ring was subtly hidden away in a bottomless pouch.
A fact which hadn't gone unnoticed.
Coppelia stared at where it'd vanished. And then at me.
Slowly, she broke into a bright smile.
"Hey, did you know that our princess is actually–"
"O-Ohohoho?! W-What's this?! I've suddenly remembered that the nice pillow is actually vacant!"
"Ooh, really? How long for?"
I pursed my lips.
"Well, I suppose 1 … perhaps 2 nights would be more than reasonable …"
"Our princess is actually–"
"B-By all means, use the nice pillow for as long as you please!"
Coppelia immediately raised her treasonous arms in joy. The cost of appeasement to avoid the least wanted conversation since I explained to my etiquette tutor why hanging from a windowsill was indeed regal on account of the fact I was fundamentally using myself as a royal banner.
For both this and that, I'd gladly pay a toll until a more well-timed distraction could arrive.
For example–
"Bugbear," I said.
"Bugbear," replied the commoner.
"Bugbear!~" added Coppelia.
We came to an abrupt stop.
All of a sudden, the darkness gave way to flickering shadows and the flames of a lonely brazier.
It was barely enough to dispel the dampness, let alone who stood before it.
A very large, very hairy and very heavily armed bugbear.
He gripped the handle of a two-handed warhammer, the spiked head resting upon the ground like the butt of a spear. A weapon so heavy it was denting the very ground.
But if that wasn't enough, there was everything else as well.
Knives, hatchets and clubs. Even a bundle of javelins rising like a quiver of arrows. Wearing only a red cloak, a lamellar skirt guard and a crossed leather harness for either protection or dignity, he boasted a weapon for every intruder and every situation.
Standing sentry amidst the barren backdrop of solitude, he was the very image of a seasoned guardian.
A proud bugbear champion more obstinate than any door … particularly since there was none.
Just behind him was the most promising hole in a wall yet.
A dim light poured from it, flickering like a candle moments from death. I caught snatches of the commotion beyond, of things struck and hauled, screeching and groaning like a pew dragged across a chapel floor. The odour of ill-deeds was in the air.
Or perhaps that was simply the bugbear standing too close to the brazier.
The hem of his cloak was singeing.
"Wow," said Coppelia. "He's just standing there. Imposingly. On his own."
I nodded.
"Indeed, to jump to attention and feign that he was always standing like that is impressive. It takes remarkable discipline to appear so impractically diligent."
"I'm pretty sure he's not blinking too." Coppelia leaned forwards and narrowed her eyes. "... Yup. Not blinking. Not even once. Can you do that?"
"Of course. To disregard the dryness of my eyes is a critical survival skill during a soirée. Without it, I could never fall asleep while my dance partner pretends not to see it. But for a doorstop to possess such a skill? An adversary whose worth is measured in more than just weapons."
I offered my rare acknowledgement.
Then, I pointed at the doorway behind him.
"... Come, let's continue onwards!" I said with a satisfied smile. "Our destination cannot be far. I already smell the disappointment. Perhaps this will be a shorter detour than feared. With luck, I'll forget this debacle ever occurred before dinner."
I began to skip ahead.
I stopped when an adventurer coughed behind me.
"Uh … Princess?"
"Yes?"
He pointed at the bugbear.
"What about him?"
"Well, he's hardly excluded. He can forget this entire affair as well."
"Right, well … it's just that I'm fairly sure the big fella is guarding that entrance right behind him. Do you have a plan for getting past?"
I thought for a moment, then nodded confidently.
"No."
The man blinked. His smile slowly began to fade.
"Um … begging your pardon, but isn't that a problem?"
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes. Commoners.
"Please, Mr. Oddwell, if anybody seeks to bar my path, that is not a princess problem. It is an everybody else problem. It is a matter for the guards, doorstops and walls to decide how best to stop me, not for me to decide how best I will walk by."
Far from looking relieved, the man glanced between the blunt pickaxe in his hand and the hog currently being turned to charcoal.
He swallowed a small gulp.
"That's mighty confident of you, Princess. But while I don't doubt your ability, I feel it's best for all involved if we didn't cause a commotion. I reckon with half a chance, I might just be able to steal away the crown on Miss Harten's head without anyone knowing."
Then, his smile returned with its brightest flash yet.
"... Which is why you can leave this to me. I actually happen to know this bugbear. Give me a moment and I'll be able to talk us right past him."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I see? … Is diplomacy your forte?"
"Well, you don't convince people to drink the bottom shelf stuff if you don't have a certain way with words. Suffice to say, I'm good at making friends. You can trust me on this."
Hmmmmmmmm.
I was somewhat less than convinced.
Frankly, adventurers weren't known for the art of speech in anything other than drunken boasts, flying insults and indecipherable songs … but in the end, who was I to deny an opportunity for my subjects to gallantly pave the way before me?
"Very well." I offered a polite smile, then sheathed my sword. "In that case, I shall leave this to you."
"Great! Stick close and follow my lead. With a bit of luck and a lot of blagging, we'll be able to see this through without a single blade being raised."
The man did up the collar of his muddied and still damp clothes.
Then, with his blunt pickaxe against one shoulder and the cat held against the other, he went ahead without once making sure anyone was actually following.
Coppelia turned to me, excitement bubbling away in her eyes.
"Ooh, ooh! I bet two hazelnut croissants he'll make friends with a forehead in under 45 seconds!"
"30 seconds."
"Done~!"
Thus, we exchanged nods and followed.
"... Grubtooth!" cried our impromptu diplomat, raising the cat in either greeting or surrender. "I've been missing you! Why haven't you come to try my latest range of Black Kraken Rum? I've been holding a bottle just for you!"
The bugbear looked up as the commoner approached.
He merely raised a brow, then slowly pointed at himself.
"Me?"
"Of course, who else?"
"I'm not Grubtooth."
"Exactly, because you're–"
"Redcloak."
"Redcloak!" The commoner's smile continued unabated. "Of course, because you're wearing a red cloak!"
"No, it's because that's the name my mother gave me. The red cloak I'm wearing is coincidental."
"And what a happy coincidence it is, eh? Red like the blood of your enemies! I almost didn't recognise you. Too handsome in such a new cloak."
"It's not new."
"No, but you can pretend it's new. I've actually something homemade for you. A little moonshine that's less moon and more shine. You can use it as a powerful washing liquid after you're done spitting it out."
"That sounds horrible. I also do not drink."
"Of course you don't. Responsibilities and all. How's the daughter?"
"I don't have a daughter."
"The son."
"I don't have children."
Beside me, Coppelia's shoulders sagged as she saw two hazelnut croissants vanishing into the ether.
To his credit, neither the man nor his sociable candour were fazed.
"And how right you are not to in this busy day and age. Terrible environment. Nothing but work, work, work. Myself included. Why, I've got to help Miss Harten with the Big Plan now. And I'm not even sure what it is."
The bugbear frowned.
After a moment, he pointed towards Coppelia and myself as we edged closer. Coppelia pointed back. I lowered her finger.
"Who are they?"
"New helpers."
"I wasn't told about new helpers."
"Yeah, but what are we told, right? I didn't even get a chance to finish pouring my last drink. I've still got Pebblesneeze waiting on his grog."
A moment of silence passed between the two.
But that didn't mean no words were exchanged. A bead of sweat ran down the adventurer's face.
"... Stay here," said the bugbear. "I'll check with the Boss."
"Now that's just unnecessary. With how busy Miss Harten is, that'll just mean I'm disturbing her twice."
"It's just basic prudence. She did tell me that if you ever suddenly appeared without warning, it's because you'd escaped from the bar and were trying to sneak in."
The bugbear with a red cloak paused.
"... Are you trying to sneak in?"
In answer, the commoner merely laughed.
It wasn't returned.
A telling silence went his way instead, broken only by the spitting of a fire and the slightly shuffling as a bugbear fully rose. Unimpressed eyes looked down on him. The din of suspicion rose.
Then, just as the bugbear took a step forwards–
Fwooosh.
A powerful breeze swept through the depths.
It was followed at once by a circle of dark flames erupting around the commoner's feet.
All of a sudden, the jovialness of a man sitting at a bar could no longer be seen.
Instead, a hard frown settled upon his face, erasing what was there before. Dented brows were disturbed only by his hair rippling like a mast at sea and a cat hopping from his arms. An aura of steel and determination engulfed his form as his narrowed eyes locked upon the adversary he'd chosen.
"All right, you got me," he calmly said, lifting his mining pick. "I'm here to put things right. And that means a quiet word with Miss Harten. Now trust me when I say you don't want to be in the way. Because I went through an entire bar of goblins to get here and I'm not even half drunk yet. So how about we both agree to look the other way?"
The bugbear paused.
For a moment, he did nothing but study the adventurer before him.
And then–he raised his warhammer.
"The colour on my cloak is beginning to fade," said the bugbear as he rolled his shoulders. "Can't hurt to fix that."
The adventurer nodded.
Then, still with that expression of conviction like a squire with a lance, he looked to the side and sent a confident smile towards me.
"My sword skills don't actually work with pickaxes. Need help."
But this wasn't the surface of the dark stream running beside me or the reflection of the rounded walls. It was a glimmer so distinguishable that I could already see it as an impractically shaped tiara being tossed through my window.
Silver.
I gasped in delight.
As I delved deeper within the ever narrowing tunnels of these illegally made caves, whatever consternation I felt was swept away by the warmth of precious ore.
The veins streaked across the wall like frozen cobwebs, as beautiful and shining as the despair upon the faces of the Miner's Guild. They would have their cut, of course. But since they neither excavated these caves nor prospected these veins, it meant each dollop of sweat they exuded was worth only a fraction of what they could've demanded.
Ohohohoho … it was wonderful!
Such a find was beyond the dead snails and sheltering highwaymen I expected to greet me! While the mountains overlooking Marinsgarde contained silver in the past, even the most desperate of nobility had baulked at the idea of funding the expeditions required to seek out more!
The goblins had done it for free.
Naturally, I was overjoyed.
However, while this was a cause for nothing less than two … maybe three bunny hops, to celebrate now was to invite needless peril.
For one thing, there were witnesses.
But for another, it was more than the weight of the air as we followed the darkness which threatened my ability to mine these mountains dry a second time.
It was an adventurer.
And not only the one waiting for me.
"... No, Pepper, you made your choice. You either had to stay back where I knew where I could find you or you come with me. Don't worry, I'll make you a Goblin Surprise as soon as I can."
Trailing just behind Coppelia and myself, the adventurer with a cat was every omen I didn't desire.
Armed with only a blunt mining pick designed to shatter the silver veins and a feline which could leap off his shoulder and trigger traps as easily as any waddling duck, all I saw was a premonition of calamity.
A problem, then.
Because despite experiencing my regal aura twice in short succession, nothing regarding decorum and the need to make a graceful exit had managed to rub off on him.
"Mr. Oddwell," I said in a polite tone, keeping away from the walls so he would as well. "While I'm truly delighted for the information you've offered regarding this …"
"Liliane Harten."
"Yes, her. While I acknowledge your assistance thus far, I believe your current task is to safely deliver this lost cat to its owner. I cannot ensure its safety. Nor yours, for that matter. I must reiterate that you're a swordsman currently without a sword. This is not helpful. At all."
Much to my chagrin, the adventurer only gripped his pickaxe tighter.
His shoulders stiffened and back straightened. He would doubtless have reacted the same had I challenged him not to consume the entire contents of a communal cauldron, pieces of shoes and all.
"I understand, Princess," he said, not understanding in the slightest. "Be that as it may, my part in this is unfinished. I was there when Miss Harten wore the crown. I bear responsibility. If I was stronger, she wouldn't have needed to use it."
"I see … and how do you intend to use that lack of strength to rectify that woman's mistake?"
The man gave a shrug. I could only groan.
"Her mind's elsewhere, but we can still bring it back. I'm sure of it. Liliane Harten isn't lost to us. We just need to reach through to her. There's a lot about how that crown works which neither of us knows about. But whatever we find ahead of us, I reckon we'll at least have a better chance together than apart."
I nodded. The words were well spoken.
"Please leave."
"Princess! If … If you fear me being a burden, then rest assured, I do not need a sword to fight!"
"To sacrifice yourself for my sake is a noble goal. And I acknowledge that. However, it is not your loyalty or even your lack of a weapon which is a burden. It is that."
I pointed at the copper ring disgracing his finger.
Then, I gestured all around me.
"This is a goblin cave filled with traps. You are an adventurer. There is no scenario in which your presence won't result in disaster. Your profession demands it. Why, you were just magically struck by an airborne treasure chest!"
"Yeah, uh, I can't really explain that one," he said, rubbing his head. "But other than mimics falling from the sky, I'm good at avoiding the worst of things. I'm light on my feet, just as much as Pepper is here."
I paused, then leaned towards him.
"So what you're saying is that you're adept at avoiding highly lethal traps likely to cause explosions?"
"Well, I'm no ranger, but I've got good eyes and an even better sense for danger."
"And how many traps have you triggered before?"
"One or two," he admitted. "But each was a learning experience back when I was new. I've done my share of goblin caves now and more besides. I'm confident I won't trigger any traps now."
"... Once more."
"Excuse me?"
"Repeat that line once more. And also spin around."
The man blinked in confusion.
Then, seeing only seriousness scribbled across my face, he slowly began to spin around.
"I'm, uh, confident I won't trigger any traps now."
I waited, my ears primed for a sudden click followed by a rumbling in the near distance.
Nothing came.
I sighed, then turned and continued onwards.
"... Fine, but don't touch anything."
An enthusiastic nod answered at once.
"Not touching anything," he said, raising his pickaxe. "Not least with this. I wouldn't fancy myself against even a novice mage with this. And certainly not Miss Harten. But then again, I hope we'll only need her own good senses as our weapon."
"I find sense to be a rare thing in a cave. It is rarer in those who stick magic hats upon their scalp."
"I still have hope. You might not know much about her, but Liliane Harten is one of the youngest to have ever reached A-rank. It's incredible, really, thinking about the things she must have done to achieve it. After all, A-rank puts her among the most respected, highly acclaimed and famous of adventurers."
"Ack, hack, ugh, uck …"
"Uh, princess?"
"M-My apologies, I suddenly found something very uncomfortable in the back of my throat …"
"I … I see. Are you well or … ?"
"I'm … I'm okay … A-rank is … yes … truly, that … that is an impressive, horrifically impressive rank to have reached … and she's one of the youngest? How … How long did it take her?"
"Well, um, I'm not sure on the exact number. But it wasn't too far past 10 years."
"10 … 10 years?!"
The man nodded wholeheartedly.
"Yeah, impressive, right? But there's been faster. Like the Snow Dancer. She reached it in record time. An A-rank elven sword saint. Now that's something … although lately, I'm actually hearing rumours of someone else flying up the ranks as well."
A smile of appreciation lit up the darkness, battling against the horror from my face.
"Then again, there's always rumours like that. Still, who knows? Maybe in a few years, we might just have another A-rank in our midst … but I suppose such things as ranks don't really matter to you, huh?"
"Of … Of course not … w-whatever rank someone is classified against their will is utterly meaningless! I-Indeed, the only rank that matters is one's princess rank, and mine is already the highest tier available!"
I smiled and nodded … all the while ensuring my copper ring was subtly hidden away in a bottomless pouch.
A fact which hadn't gone unnoticed.
Coppelia stared at where it'd vanished. And then at me.
Slowly, she broke into a bright smile.
"Hey, did you know that our princess is actually–"
"O-Ohohoho?! W-What's this?! I've suddenly remembered that the nice pillow is actually vacant!"
"Ooh, really? How long for?"
I pursed my lips.
"Well, I suppose 1 … perhaps 2 nights would be more than reasonable …"
"Our princess is actually–"
"B-By all means, use the nice pillow for as long as you please!"
Coppelia immediately raised her treasonous arms in joy. The cost of appeasement to avoid the least wanted conversation since I explained to my etiquette tutor why hanging from a windowsill was indeed regal on account of the fact I was fundamentally using myself as a royal banner.
For both this and that, I'd gladly pay a toll until a more well-timed distraction could arrive.
For example–
"Bugbear," I said.
"Bugbear," replied the commoner.
"Bugbear!~" added Coppelia.
We came to an abrupt stop.
All of a sudden, the darkness gave way to flickering shadows and the flames of a lonely brazier.
It was barely enough to dispel the dampness, let alone who stood before it.
A very large, very hairy and very heavily armed bugbear.
He gripped the handle of a two-handed warhammer, the spiked head resting upon the ground like the butt of a spear. A weapon so heavy it was denting the very ground.
But if that wasn't enough, there was everything else as well.
Knives, hatchets and clubs. Even a bundle of javelins rising like a quiver of arrows. Wearing only a red cloak, a lamellar skirt guard and a crossed leather harness for either protection or dignity, he boasted a weapon for every intruder and every situation.
Standing sentry amidst the barren backdrop of solitude, he was the very image of a seasoned guardian.
A proud bugbear champion more obstinate than any door … particularly since there was none.
Just behind him was the most promising hole in a wall yet.
A dim light poured from it, flickering like a candle moments from death. I caught snatches of the commotion beyond, of things struck and hauled, screeching and groaning like a pew dragged across a chapel floor. The odour of ill-deeds was in the air.
Or perhaps that was simply the bugbear standing too close to the brazier.
The hem of his cloak was singeing.
"Wow," said Coppelia. "He's just standing there. Imposingly. On his own."
I nodded.
"Indeed, to jump to attention and feign that he was always standing like that is impressive. It takes remarkable discipline to appear so impractically diligent."
"I'm pretty sure he's not blinking too." Coppelia leaned forwards and narrowed her eyes. "... Yup. Not blinking. Not even once. Can you do that?"
"Of course. To disregard the dryness of my eyes is a critical survival skill during a soirée. Without it, I could never fall asleep while my dance partner pretends not to see it. But for a doorstop to possess such a skill? An adversary whose worth is measured in more than just weapons."
I offered my rare acknowledgement.
Then, I pointed at the doorway behind him.
"... Come, let's continue onwards!" I said with a satisfied smile. "Our destination cannot be far. I already smell the disappointment. Perhaps this will be a shorter detour than feared. With luck, I'll forget this debacle ever occurred before dinner."
I began to skip ahead.
I stopped when an adventurer coughed behind me.
"Uh … Princess?"
"Yes?"
He pointed at the bugbear.
"What about him?"
"Well, he's hardly excluded. He can forget this entire affair as well."
"Right, well … it's just that I'm fairly sure the big fella is guarding that entrance right behind him. Do you have a plan for getting past?"
I thought for a moment, then nodded confidently.
"No."
The man blinked. His smile slowly began to fade.
"Um … begging your pardon, but isn't that a problem?"
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes. Commoners.
"Please, Mr. Oddwell, if anybody seeks to bar my path, that is not a princess problem. It is an everybody else problem. It is a matter for the guards, doorstops and walls to decide how best to stop me, not for me to decide how best I will walk by."
Far from looking relieved, the man glanced between the blunt pickaxe in his hand and the hog currently being turned to charcoal.
He swallowed a small gulp.
"That's mighty confident of you, Princess. But while I don't doubt your ability, I feel it's best for all involved if we didn't cause a commotion. I reckon with half a chance, I might just be able to steal away the crown on Miss Harten's head without anyone knowing."
Then, his smile returned with its brightest flash yet.
"... Which is why you can leave this to me. I actually happen to know this bugbear. Give me a moment and I'll be able to talk us right past him."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I see? … Is diplomacy your forte?"
"Well, you don't convince people to drink the bottom shelf stuff if you don't have a certain way with words. Suffice to say, I'm good at making friends. You can trust me on this."
Hmmmmmmmm.
I was somewhat less than convinced.
Frankly, adventurers weren't known for the art of speech in anything other than drunken boasts, flying insults and indecipherable songs … but in the end, who was I to deny an opportunity for my subjects to gallantly pave the way before me?
"Very well." I offered a polite smile, then sheathed my sword. "In that case, I shall leave this to you."
"Great! Stick close and follow my lead. With a bit of luck and a lot of blagging, we'll be able to see this through without a single blade being raised."
The man did up the collar of his muddied and still damp clothes.
Then, with his blunt pickaxe against one shoulder and the cat held against the other, he went ahead without once making sure anyone was actually following.
Coppelia turned to me, excitement bubbling away in her eyes.
"Ooh, ooh! I bet two hazelnut croissants he'll make friends with a forehead in under 45 seconds!"
"30 seconds."
"Done~!"
Thus, we exchanged nods and followed.
"... Grubtooth!" cried our impromptu diplomat, raising the cat in either greeting or surrender. "I've been missing you! Why haven't you come to try my latest range of Black Kraken Rum? I've been holding a bottle just for you!"
The bugbear looked up as the commoner approached.
He merely raised a brow, then slowly pointed at himself.
"Me?"
"Of course, who else?"
"I'm not Grubtooth."
"Exactly, because you're–"
"Redcloak."
"Redcloak!" The commoner's smile continued unabated. "Of course, because you're wearing a red cloak!"
"No, it's because that's the name my mother gave me. The red cloak I'm wearing is coincidental."
"And what a happy coincidence it is, eh? Red like the blood of your enemies! I almost didn't recognise you. Too handsome in such a new cloak."
"It's not new."
"No, but you can pretend it's new. I've actually something homemade for you. A little moonshine that's less moon and more shine. You can use it as a powerful washing liquid after you're done spitting it out."
"That sounds horrible. I also do not drink."
"Of course you don't. Responsibilities and all. How's the daughter?"
"I don't have a daughter."
"The son."
"I don't have children."
Beside me, Coppelia's shoulders sagged as she saw two hazelnut croissants vanishing into the ether.
To his credit, neither the man nor his sociable candour were fazed.
"And how right you are not to in this busy day and age. Terrible environment. Nothing but work, work, work. Myself included. Why, I've got to help Miss Harten with the Big Plan now. And I'm not even sure what it is."
The bugbear frowned.
After a moment, he pointed towards Coppelia and myself as we edged closer. Coppelia pointed back. I lowered her finger.
"Who are they?"
"New helpers."
"I wasn't told about new helpers."
"Yeah, but what are we told, right? I didn't even get a chance to finish pouring my last drink. I've still got Pebblesneeze waiting on his grog."
A moment of silence passed between the two.
But that didn't mean no words were exchanged. A bead of sweat ran down the adventurer's face.
"... Stay here," said the bugbear. "I'll check with the Boss."
"Now that's just unnecessary. With how busy Miss Harten is, that'll just mean I'm disturbing her twice."
"It's just basic prudence. She did tell me that if you ever suddenly appeared without warning, it's because you'd escaped from the bar and were trying to sneak in."
The bugbear with a red cloak paused.
"... Are you trying to sneak in?"
In answer, the commoner merely laughed.
It wasn't returned.
A telling silence went his way instead, broken only by the spitting of a fire and the slightly shuffling as a bugbear fully rose. Unimpressed eyes looked down on him. The din of suspicion rose.
Then, just as the bugbear took a step forwards–
Fwooosh.
A powerful breeze swept through the depths.
It was followed at once by a circle of dark flames erupting around the commoner's feet.
All of a sudden, the jovialness of a man sitting at a bar could no longer be seen.
Instead, a hard frown settled upon his face, erasing what was there before. Dented brows were disturbed only by his hair rippling like a mast at sea and a cat hopping from his arms. An aura of steel and determination engulfed his form as his narrowed eyes locked upon the adversary he'd chosen.
"All right, you got me," he calmly said, lifting his mining pick. "I'm here to put things right. And that means a quiet word with Miss Harten. Now trust me when I say you don't want to be in the way. Because I went through an entire bar of goblins to get here and I'm not even half drunk yet. So how about we both agree to look the other way?"
The bugbear paused.
For a moment, he did nothing but study the adventurer before him.
And then–he raised his warhammer.
"The colour on my cloak is beginning to fade," said the bugbear as he rolled his shoulders. "Can't hurt to fix that."
The adventurer nodded.
Then, still with that expression of conviction like a squire with a lance, he looked to the side and sent a confident smile towards me.
"My sword skills don't actually work with pickaxes. Need help."
- Location
- Argentina
"Hit him between his legs, that usually works."
Whoa. This guy is actually a true adventurer.
Like a real adventurer. Not one of the wanna be heroes types, nor the company stooges who just do jobs for the guild.
This is a true blue, "Let's see what is over there!" Type of adventurer. He even got the "Sorry fellow party members, looks like I started something I can't finish! Woops ~" part down.
Juliette really does find the rarest of people huh. The blessing and curse of a princess.
Like a real adventurer. Not one of the wanna be heroes types, nor the company stooges who just do jobs for the guild.
This is a true blue, "Let's see what is over there!" Type of adventurer. He even got the "Sorry fellow party members, looks like I started something I can't finish! Woops ~" part down.
Juliette really does find the rarest of people huh. The blessing and curse of a princess.
Chapter 334: Falling Upwards
New
Bugbears.
They were the greatest warriors that any self-respecting goblin tribe could boast.
If there was a problem, they could fix it. Often by simply existing.
Famed as the finest handymen any tribe could want, they were the mailed fist and the implied threat both efficiently rolled into one. Boasting jaws wider than their foreheads, their tusks were sturdy enough to impale a boulder. They usually didn't need to go that far.
If something was in the way, then it could also be tossed away.
Standing atop the goblin hierarchy, they were enforcers, gladiators, warlords … and to a certain adventurer's dismay, also doorstops.
"Oh dear."
The colour in his cheeks faded beneath the shadow of a large warhammer.
Despite his predicament, little surprise was mixed in with his regret.
After all, it was a matter of course that most adventurers were doomed to be found as skeletons clogging up the interior of dungeons. As explorers, pilgrims and robbers, they formed a natural part of the ecosystem, ensuring that the horrors which dwelled in the heart of my family's tombs continued to be fed so we didn't have to hire actual guards.
Most adventurers, however, were not all of them.
As though lathered in oil and luck, the very finest slid from the arms of the law as easily as they did the rolling boulders which awaited in my family's tombs.
It mattered little if the boulder was bigger, covered in spikes or wreathed in flames. Adventurers were the original upstarts of the continent. The aspiration for every sweaty farm boy.
As a result, even if most of them failed to do more than wake cats as they peacefully slept in trees, every so often, those failures gave rise to a dashing rogue who could leap across a widening chasm even as the world rained upon him. A budding hero who would permit my guards to gawp from the other side, just before escaping with a last witless remark.
This man … was not quite that hero.
"Woah, woah, woahwoahwoah!"
Instantly throwing his pickaxe to the side, he crossed his arms in a classical display of appeasement.
"Grubtooth–wait, I mean Redcloak! Redcloak. Listen. Just listen!"
The bugbear paused, his eyes narrowing.
Even so, his warhammer continued to rise … albeit very slowly.
"Go on. What is it?"
The commoner's smile bloomed once more.
All the while, he was steadily leaning further away.
"We're both civilised individuals," he said, palms held outwards. "Naturally, I understand you have a job. And you take it very seriously. But the question needs to be asked if the job deserves you taking it seriously. Because as far as I see it, you can do better."
"Thank you."
The warhammer prepared to fall.
"Woah, woahwoahwoah! Not done yet! Listen, I don't know what Miss Harten is doing. And I'm guessing neither do you. That's not right. A fella of your standing should be in the thick of things, butting heads with the bigwigs. Instead, you're here on door duty."
"I asked for door duty."
"Which is great. Nice, calm and relaxing. Except it also doesn't pay the best. I should know. I've even done it a few times myself. That's why, henchman to henchman–I'm sure we can work something out."
And just like that, the commoner patted his pocket … and winked.
The response was all too appropriate.
Bwam.
A crack of the earth.
The bugbear slammed his weapon into the ground, outraged by the worst bribe attempt ever witnessed. A warrior's seething indignation was on full display as he stepped past his discarded warhammer. He raised his fists instead, towering over the gulping commoner.
White eyes shone beneath the all consuming shadow.
For a moment, nothing but could be heard but the sound of tarnished pride as knuckles cracked and teeth clenched at the suggestion a bugbear champion would throw aside his dignity for a commoner's desperate gambit.
And then–
"8 copper crowns."
The bugbear held out his palm.
He received only an expression of shock.
That was understandable. The man had clearly forgotten his coin purse.
He blinked several times, then patted himself down from top to bottom. When that failed to conjure any crowns, he offered the waiting bugbear an awkward smile instead.
"Ahem … I, uh, I seem to have misplaced my coin purse."
The bugbear's expression hardened.
As his palm began to retract, the commoner turned to me for help. He didn't need to.
I was already there.
"Please wait one moment," I said, opening my bottomless bag.
I immediately began digging through the coins.
Not allowing the opportunity to safely pass a heavily armed bugbear to go to waste, I carefully counted out 8 copper crowns while letting the silver and gold variety drip between my fingers.
With a nod of satisfaction, I looked up and smiled.
"My apologies. It seems I've also misplaced my coin purse."
The bugbear stared at me.
"Ma'am, you've an entire bag of crowns."
"Do I now?" I dropped the coins back into said bag, before stirring the surface with my fingertip. "My, then I suppose you'll need to up your demands so I can reject that as well."
"Excuse me?"
The bugbear blinked in a show of confusion.
I hardly saw why. The insult was so obvious that sneezing in my direction was more subtle.
"... How dare you!" I said, my boot stomping the ground as I replaced my smile with a look of outrage. "I have never heard such an obscene demand before!"
"Ma'am, it's 8 copper crowns. Not even enough to form 1 silver crown."
"Exactly! … What kind of bribe is that?!"
I was utterly appalled. As was the commoner. And for good reason.
Why … we were practically accused of being poor!
To me, that was an affront. But to the commoner, it was just a needless reminder of his plight. Both were highly unnecessary.
"This man's life is defined by hardship!" I declared, empathy flowing through my veins as I pointed at the horrified individual beside me. "As an adventurer, all his pride and income is continually lost amidst the branches of trees! That you would flagrantly cast light upon his poverty with this false benevolence is shameless! … Coppelia, name a number!"
"1 coppelion²!"
"Very well! I demand that you immediately extort him by at least 1 coppelion² instead!"
"I cannot ask for 1 coppelion². That is not a real number."
"No? And yet you seem to believe that 8 copper crowns is. That is ludicrous. What do you intend to purchase with your ill-gotten riches? Half a crêpe without any fillings?"
"Ma'am, I'll ask you not to make light of my business strategy. You can pay the bribe or not."
The bugbear looked indignant. That was my expression.
"That isn't a bribe! It's a charitable donation!"
"You may call it what you wish. It's no issue with me–as long as you pay it."
"I most certainly will not! … Why, just look at you! You're arranged yourself like a goon of note, standing alone before an important entrance while feigning not to heed the constant boredom! … Why do you not demand a higher bribe? That is the least of expectations!"
A snort answered me.
A disgraceful sound. And yet it paled to the insult he was laying against all his peers.
"You're right. For someone in my position, the going rate for a standard bribe stands at 14 gold crowns and 6 silver pieces. An amount so inflated that intruders simply turn to a different bugbear to bribe. That's me. I'm undercutting my competition."
I gasped.
"By asking for 8 copper crowns?! That isn't undercutting your competition! It's turning them all out of their jobs!"
"True … and what of it?"
"It is awful! How will guards eke out a meagre living if they cannot supplement their income with the occasional backhanded payment?! It means people like me will have to start paying them more!"
"If you don't pay your guards sufficiently, that's not my fault. This is a free market. People can charge and pay what they wish. And 8 coppers crowns is what I've determined to be the number so low that not even the most prideful will argue over it. On the contrary, they believe I am an utter fool."
"Are you not?!"
The bugbear smirked. A glint of pride shone in his eyes.
"Not in the slightest. I have been bribed for over 20 years. I have let heroes, rogues, adventurers and assassins through every door I have ever guarded. No matter who it is, I have never failed to stand aside for the lowest bribe imaginable. And the result is that not only am I alive, but I now own my own cottage in the Summer Kingdoms."
My mouth widened in disbelief.
"Excuse me?!"
"The places I guard are always the deepest. The last stop before whichever goblin chieftain or bandit warlord I'm guarding that week. Anybody who reaches me is incredibly strong. Could I defeat them? Absolutely not. But they don't know that. And so I allow them to avoid a potentially deadly fight and conserve their strength just before the end–and all for the throwaway cost of 8 copper crowns per person."
The bugbear raised his hand, then counted with his fingers.
"The average party size is 6," he said smartly. "Each member pays 8 copper crowns. That's 4 silver and 8 copper crowns per week. Next week is another. And then another. In a month I have 1 gold, 9 silver and 2 copper crowns. In a year I have 23 gold and 4 copper crowns. In 10 years I have 230 gold and 4 silver crowns. The result? Half the cost of a tidy cottage, highly fashionable, limestone and cedarwood with a chimney, a separate kitchen and a scenic view of a bridge."
I was aghast.
Especially since Coppelia was nodding in approval.
Clearly, a conversation was due. If she ever wanted to betray me, then I refused to condone her accepting anything less than a castle with literal flames spilling from the walls.
"Who wants a scenic view of a bridge?" I asked incredulously. "To see the drunkards who disgrace themselves by emptying their stomachs over it?"
"Yes, well, I admit that's a blemish … but those looking to buy from me don't know that."
The bugbear grinned, puffing out his chest to stand just a bit taller.
"That's why I stick to my rates. They're tried and tested. Perhaps I can haggle for more, but perhaps I can also eat a fireball. I play it safe. 8 copper crowns is the amount nobody deems worth wasting a spell or denting a weapon over. And so I extend it to you as well–despite seeing you can pay for more."
A palm was promptly presented to me.
I would've been less horrified if he attempted to shake my hand with it.
"Absolutely not! You may not care about your reputation, but I care about mine! What will people say if they know I paid such an insultingly low amount?!"
"Most likely that you can spot a good deal. Especially since with the crowns you saved, you can also consider my additional services."
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
"Why? Do you have an entire menu of betrayal options?"
"Everything has a price. Mine happens to be extremely affordable."
"Goodness, I apologise! I had no idea this was an à la carte service! Does this mean you'll also stab your employer for 1 extra copper crown?"
The bugbear scoffed.
Apparently, that was 2 copper crowns.
"That would open me up to far too much risk. No, I won't personally involve myself. But I can offer very useful advice that just so happened to be tortured out of me … for the low cost of only an additional six copper crowns per pertinent piece of information."
"And what constitutes pertinent, exactly? Which soap is most disliked?"
"Pay and you shall learn. Surely, you wish to know more about what awaits? I can offer a competitive advantage. One which also comes with a guarantee. If my advice isn't useful, I'll offer a refund–providing that you survive, of course."
Once again, the glint of blatant profiteering appeared in the bugbear's eyes.
I didn't know what to be more appalled by.
The fact that he was the most shameless guard I'd ever known or that he was proud of this fact.
A problem, then.
Because I had no doubt from his candour that the moment I raised my sword, he'd do something far worse than fight. He'd flee, screaming at the top of his lungs for all to hear.
… Fortunately, I wasn't just a princess!
I was the most kind and understanding princess.
This was a fact. None of my guards avoiding direct eye contact with me ever said otherwise. And I knew more about their plight than anyone else. Whenever a chihuahua visited the Royal Villa, they were the ones tasked with ensuring none of the porcelain was broken. A task as thankless as it was impossible.
I had no doubt this particular bugbear experienced similar trials.
That's why–
"Very well." I relaxed my posture, offering a pleasant smile. "I see you've clearly placed some thought into this long term bribery scheme. However, I must decline taking part."
The bugbear noticeably stiffened.
"Truly? Not a single bribery option?"
"Yes … after all, I wish to make you an offer instead."
"Excuse me?"
"In exchange for your cooperation, I will tell you how to earn more than 8 copper crowns per head."
"I see." The bugbear turned his frame slightly, clearly with a mind towards racing for the entrance behind him. "But as I've already said, this is the number I've deemed most suitable."
"Because you work for warlords and brigands. Only goody two shoes with more morals than wealth come to bother you. What you need instead is to extort those on the other side of the moral compass. Thieves whose pockets are brimming with stolen gold. And that means choosing different employers."
I leaned slightly forwards.
"You need to work for nobility."
The bugbear paused, his mouth widening.
Even so, no words came out. Only a mild gurgle of sheer disbelief. And why not?
It was a wondrous suggestion which would make everybody happy.
Myself most of all.
Ohhohohhoohoho!!
Here it was! … My most powerful ability!
[Princess Sabotage]!!
Indeed, this bugbear wasn't just terrible at his job!
Why, he was actively a liability to whoever he protected! … And that was perfect!
"Ohohoho … my, how very sad," I said, barely covering my innocent smile. "To think that all this time, you believed yourself to be prudent. In truth, you were doing nothing less than shortchanging yourself."
"... What do you mean?"
"In the royal capital of Reitzlake, you shall find no end of nobility gathering around the dampest sewer entrances like wrinkled mosquitoes. Each of them would pay handsomely to have a seasoned guard standing watch over their illicitly hidden wealth."
I waited for the bugbear to immediately ask me for directions.
Instead, I received only something between a snort and a chuckle.
"Hah. Your suggestion is unique, but naive. You refer to human nobility. They'll never hire me."
"Is that so? And yet 20 years of continuous service suggests something different."
"It doesn't matter how many years of service I have. Guarding the homes of human nobility is the most competitive job there is. Nothing comes close to matching how lucrative it is. And to be hired as a guard, you need to already be a guard. It's a closed circle. I've asked."
"Well, there's your problem. You asked."
The bugbear wore a look of obvious confusion. I pointed around me.
"Fortunately for you, that will soon change. This hole is about to be vacated with only treasure and untapped ore left behind. All the nobility will fly here faster than the bats they lovingly stroke each night … and what they shall find is a guard who remained true to his duties even when all else have fled. They will hire you on the spot."
"You must be joking. That won't help my case. It'd be clear I failed to stop you. It's easy to get another job with a warlord in the wilds. But with nobility, they get to be picky. They only want the best."
"Ohohohoho … incorrect."
"What?"
"As a guard, your job isn't to stop intruders. That's what doors are for. The purpose of a guard is simply to look the part. It's a role wholly concerned with aesthetics."
"That's ridiculous."
"No? And yet here you are, dressed like an armoury to the point of impracticality."
The bugbear fell silent.
I pointed behind me.
"Very soon, a host of prospective employers will be here. And showing that you're willing to offer your life in defence of them is the greatest trait there is. Anyone can be a guard. But few can be a loyal guard. Now, what do you normally do when you allow intruders to pass by?"
"Well, I … uh, I sort of pretend I was knocked out."
"Excellent. Then you shall do the same again. But better."
I clicked my fingers, then pointed at the entrance he was tasked with guarding.
"Just there. Yes, right there. Slump against the doorway as though violently propelled by a great force. Have both your legs slightly twisted, with one hand nursing a debilitating wound to your abdomen and the other holding your weapon upright. Thus, not only did you bravely make your last stand, but you still attempted to raise yourself in a final act of defiance. Maintain this position and I guarantee that within 48 hours, you shall have representatives of the aristocracy checking your groaning but miraculously conscious state. Speak of a horror you cannot recall and your regret you were powerless to stop it. Their eyes will light with pride at a scene which tells a story of heroism against the odds."
A blank stare was all I received for my instructions.
But not for long.
A frown was made. A cheek was scratched. A hum was sounded.
Then, the bugbear easily lifted his warhammer from the ground … before suddenly stumbling backwards as though struck by a hill giant's fist, slumping magnificently against the open doorway.
"Oh dear," he said. "I appear to be incapacitated."
He twisted his legs slightly.
Ohohohohohohohoho!!
I smiled in delight at the scene.
Like a beautiful garden carefully arranged, each awkward limb told a tale which needed no words.
"... I wish you well in your future endeavours," I said as I promptly climbed over the splayed legs. "I've no doubt with your talents, you shall enjoy a profitable career at the expense of the realm's vultures."
A moment later, I turned around, noting the lack of anyone following me.
"Pffffffffft."
To my dismay, Coppelia was busy holding back her laughter.
She had both hands to her mouth … neither of which were helping to reduce the way her cheeks were now worryingly crinkled.
Despite this, it was a slightly more regal expression than what the commoner wore.
He was gawping at the fallen bugbear like a goldfish chewing on a pebble. A deeply unflattering look not helped by a cat climbing atop his head.
I nodded, smiled, then decided to ignore both.
… Right! It was time to chastise an adventurer!
They were the greatest warriors that any self-respecting goblin tribe could boast.
If there was a problem, they could fix it. Often by simply existing.
Famed as the finest handymen any tribe could want, they were the mailed fist and the implied threat both efficiently rolled into one. Boasting jaws wider than their foreheads, their tusks were sturdy enough to impale a boulder. They usually didn't need to go that far.
If something was in the way, then it could also be tossed away.
Standing atop the goblin hierarchy, they were enforcers, gladiators, warlords … and to a certain adventurer's dismay, also doorstops.
"Oh dear."
The colour in his cheeks faded beneath the shadow of a large warhammer.
Despite his predicament, little surprise was mixed in with his regret.
After all, it was a matter of course that most adventurers were doomed to be found as skeletons clogging up the interior of dungeons. As explorers, pilgrims and robbers, they formed a natural part of the ecosystem, ensuring that the horrors which dwelled in the heart of my family's tombs continued to be fed so we didn't have to hire actual guards.
Most adventurers, however, were not all of them.
As though lathered in oil and luck, the very finest slid from the arms of the law as easily as they did the rolling boulders which awaited in my family's tombs.
It mattered little if the boulder was bigger, covered in spikes or wreathed in flames. Adventurers were the original upstarts of the continent. The aspiration for every sweaty farm boy.
As a result, even if most of them failed to do more than wake cats as they peacefully slept in trees, every so often, those failures gave rise to a dashing rogue who could leap across a widening chasm even as the world rained upon him. A budding hero who would permit my guards to gawp from the other side, just before escaping with a last witless remark.
This man … was not quite that hero.
"Woah, woah, woahwoahwoah!"
Instantly throwing his pickaxe to the side, he crossed his arms in a classical display of appeasement.
"Grubtooth–wait, I mean Redcloak! Redcloak. Listen. Just listen!"
The bugbear paused, his eyes narrowing.
Even so, his warhammer continued to rise … albeit very slowly.
"Go on. What is it?"
The commoner's smile bloomed once more.
All the while, he was steadily leaning further away.
"We're both civilised individuals," he said, palms held outwards. "Naturally, I understand you have a job. And you take it very seriously. But the question needs to be asked if the job deserves you taking it seriously. Because as far as I see it, you can do better."
"Thank you."
The warhammer prepared to fall.
"Woah, woahwoahwoah! Not done yet! Listen, I don't know what Miss Harten is doing. And I'm guessing neither do you. That's not right. A fella of your standing should be in the thick of things, butting heads with the bigwigs. Instead, you're here on door duty."
"I asked for door duty."
"Which is great. Nice, calm and relaxing. Except it also doesn't pay the best. I should know. I've even done it a few times myself. That's why, henchman to henchman–I'm sure we can work something out."
And just like that, the commoner patted his pocket … and winked.
The response was all too appropriate.
Bwam.
A crack of the earth.
The bugbear slammed his weapon into the ground, outraged by the worst bribe attempt ever witnessed. A warrior's seething indignation was on full display as he stepped past his discarded warhammer. He raised his fists instead, towering over the gulping commoner.
White eyes shone beneath the all consuming shadow.
For a moment, nothing but could be heard but the sound of tarnished pride as knuckles cracked and teeth clenched at the suggestion a bugbear champion would throw aside his dignity for a commoner's desperate gambit.
And then–
"8 copper crowns."
The bugbear held out his palm.
He received only an expression of shock.
That was understandable. The man had clearly forgotten his coin purse.
He blinked several times, then patted himself down from top to bottom. When that failed to conjure any crowns, he offered the waiting bugbear an awkward smile instead.
"Ahem … I, uh, I seem to have misplaced my coin purse."
The bugbear's expression hardened.
As his palm began to retract, the commoner turned to me for help. He didn't need to.
I was already there.
"Please wait one moment," I said, opening my bottomless bag.
I immediately began digging through the coins.
Not allowing the opportunity to safely pass a heavily armed bugbear to go to waste, I carefully counted out 8 copper crowns while letting the silver and gold variety drip between my fingers.
With a nod of satisfaction, I looked up and smiled.
"My apologies. It seems I've also misplaced my coin purse."
The bugbear stared at me.
"Ma'am, you've an entire bag of crowns."
"Do I now?" I dropped the coins back into said bag, before stirring the surface with my fingertip. "My, then I suppose you'll need to up your demands so I can reject that as well."
"Excuse me?"
The bugbear blinked in a show of confusion.
I hardly saw why. The insult was so obvious that sneezing in my direction was more subtle.
"... How dare you!" I said, my boot stomping the ground as I replaced my smile with a look of outrage. "I have never heard such an obscene demand before!"
"Ma'am, it's 8 copper crowns. Not even enough to form 1 silver crown."
"Exactly! … What kind of bribe is that?!"
I was utterly appalled. As was the commoner. And for good reason.
Why … we were practically accused of being poor!
To me, that was an affront. But to the commoner, it was just a needless reminder of his plight. Both were highly unnecessary.
"This man's life is defined by hardship!" I declared, empathy flowing through my veins as I pointed at the horrified individual beside me. "As an adventurer, all his pride and income is continually lost amidst the branches of trees! That you would flagrantly cast light upon his poverty with this false benevolence is shameless! … Coppelia, name a number!"
"1 coppelion²!"
"Very well! I demand that you immediately extort him by at least 1 coppelion² instead!"
"I cannot ask for 1 coppelion². That is not a real number."
"No? And yet you seem to believe that 8 copper crowns is. That is ludicrous. What do you intend to purchase with your ill-gotten riches? Half a crêpe without any fillings?"
"Ma'am, I'll ask you not to make light of my business strategy. You can pay the bribe or not."
The bugbear looked indignant. That was my expression.
"That isn't a bribe! It's a charitable donation!"
"You may call it what you wish. It's no issue with me–as long as you pay it."
"I most certainly will not! … Why, just look at you! You're arranged yourself like a goon of note, standing alone before an important entrance while feigning not to heed the constant boredom! … Why do you not demand a higher bribe? That is the least of expectations!"
A snort answered me.
A disgraceful sound. And yet it paled to the insult he was laying against all his peers.
"You're right. For someone in my position, the going rate for a standard bribe stands at 14 gold crowns and 6 silver pieces. An amount so inflated that intruders simply turn to a different bugbear to bribe. That's me. I'm undercutting my competition."
I gasped.
"By asking for 8 copper crowns?! That isn't undercutting your competition! It's turning them all out of their jobs!"
"True … and what of it?"
"It is awful! How will guards eke out a meagre living if they cannot supplement their income with the occasional backhanded payment?! It means people like me will have to start paying them more!"
"If you don't pay your guards sufficiently, that's not my fault. This is a free market. People can charge and pay what they wish. And 8 coppers crowns is what I've determined to be the number so low that not even the most prideful will argue over it. On the contrary, they believe I am an utter fool."
"Are you not?!"
The bugbear smirked. A glint of pride shone in his eyes.
"Not in the slightest. I have been bribed for over 20 years. I have let heroes, rogues, adventurers and assassins through every door I have ever guarded. No matter who it is, I have never failed to stand aside for the lowest bribe imaginable. And the result is that not only am I alive, but I now own my own cottage in the Summer Kingdoms."
My mouth widened in disbelief.
"Excuse me?!"
"The places I guard are always the deepest. The last stop before whichever goblin chieftain or bandit warlord I'm guarding that week. Anybody who reaches me is incredibly strong. Could I defeat them? Absolutely not. But they don't know that. And so I allow them to avoid a potentially deadly fight and conserve their strength just before the end–and all for the throwaway cost of 8 copper crowns per person."
The bugbear raised his hand, then counted with his fingers.
"The average party size is 6," he said smartly. "Each member pays 8 copper crowns. That's 4 silver and 8 copper crowns per week. Next week is another. And then another. In a month I have 1 gold, 9 silver and 2 copper crowns. In a year I have 23 gold and 4 copper crowns. In 10 years I have 230 gold and 4 silver crowns. The result? Half the cost of a tidy cottage, highly fashionable, limestone and cedarwood with a chimney, a separate kitchen and a scenic view of a bridge."
I was aghast.
Especially since Coppelia was nodding in approval.
Clearly, a conversation was due. If she ever wanted to betray me, then I refused to condone her accepting anything less than a castle with literal flames spilling from the walls.
"Who wants a scenic view of a bridge?" I asked incredulously. "To see the drunkards who disgrace themselves by emptying their stomachs over it?"
"Yes, well, I admit that's a blemish … but those looking to buy from me don't know that."
The bugbear grinned, puffing out his chest to stand just a bit taller.
"That's why I stick to my rates. They're tried and tested. Perhaps I can haggle for more, but perhaps I can also eat a fireball. I play it safe. 8 copper crowns is the amount nobody deems worth wasting a spell or denting a weapon over. And so I extend it to you as well–despite seeing you can pay for more."
A palm was promptly presented to me.
I would've been less horrified if he attempted to shake my hand with it.
"Absolutely not! You may not care about your reputation, but I care about mine! What will people say if they know I paid such an insultingly low amount?!"
"Most likely that you can spot a good deal. Especially since with the crowns you saved, you can also consider my additional services."
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
"Why? Do you have an entire menu of betrayal options?"
"Everything has a price. Mine happens to be extremely affordable."
"Goodness, I apologise! I had no idea this was an à la carte service! Does this mean you'll also stab your employer for 1 extra copper crown?"
The bugbear scoffed.
Apparently, that was 2 copper crowns.
"That would open me up to far too much risk. No, I won't personally involve myself. But I can offer very useful advice that just so happened to be tortured out of me … for the low cost of only an additional six copper crowns per pertinent piece of information."
"And what constitutes pertinent, exactly? Which soap is most disliked?"
"Pay and you shall learn. Surely, you wish to know more about what awaits? I can offer a competitive advantage. One which also comes with a guarantee. If my advice isn't useful, I'll offer a refund–providing that you survive, of course."
Once again, the glint of blatant profiteering appeared in the bugbear's eyes.
I didn't know what to be more appalled by.
The fact that he was the most shameless guard I'd ever known or that he was proud of this fact.
A problem, then.
Because I had no doubt from his candour that the moment I raised my sword, he'd do something far worse than fight. He'd flee, screaming at the top of his lungs for all to hear.
… Fortunately, I wasn't just a princess!
I was the most kind and understanding princess.
This was a fact. None of my guards avoiding direct eye contact with me ever said otherwise. And I knew more about their plight than anyone else. Whenever a chihuahua visited the Royal Villa, they were the ones tasked with ensuring none of the porcelain was broken. A task as thankless as it was impossible.
I had no doubt this particular bugbear experienced similar trials.
That's why–
"Very well." I relaxed my posture, offering a pleasant smile. "I see you've clearly placed some thought into this long term bribery scheme. However, I must decline taking part."
The bugbear noticeably stiffened.
"Truly? Not a single bribery option?"
"Yes … after all, I wish to make you an offer instead."
"Excuse me?"
"In exchange for your cooperation, I will tell you how to earn more than 8 copper crowns per head."
"I see." The bugbear turned his frame slightly, clearly with a mind towards racing for the entrance behind him. "But as I've already said, this is the number I've deemed most suitable."
"Because you work for warlords and brigands. Only goody two shoes with more morals than wealth come to bother you. What you need instead is to extort those on the other side of the moral compass. Thieves whose pockets are brimming with stolen gold. And that means choosing different employers."
I leaned slightly forwards.
"You need to work for nobility."
The bugbear paused, his mouth widening.
Even so, no words came out. Only a mild gurgle of sheer disbelief. And why not?
It was a wondrous suggestion which would make everybody happy.
Myself most of all.
Ohhohohhoohoho!!
Here it was! … My most powerful ability!
[Princess Sabotage]!!
Indeed, this bugbear wasn't just terrible at his job!
Why, he was actively a liability to whoever he protected! … And that was perfect!
"Ohohoho … my, how very sad," I said, barely covering my innocent smile. "To think that all this time, you believed yourself to be prudent. In truth, you were doing nothing less than shortchanging yourself."
"... What do you mean?"
"In the royal capital of Reitzlake, you shall find no end of nobility gathering around the dampest sewer entrances like wrinkled mosquitoes. Each of them would pay handsomely to have a seasoned guard standing watch over their illicitly hidden wealth."
I waited for the bugbear to immediately ask me for directions.
Instead, I received only something between a snort and a chuckle.
"Hah. Your suggestion is unique, but naive. You refer to human nobility. They'll never hire me."
"Is that so? And yet 20 years of continuous service suggests something different."
"It doesn't matter how many years of service I have. Guarding the homes of human nobility is the most competitive job there is. Nothing comes close to matching how lucrative it is. And to be hired as a guard, you need to already be a guard. It's a closed circle. I've asked."
"Well, there's your problem. You asked."
The bugbear wore a look of obvious confusion. I pointed around me.
"Fortunately for you, that will soon change. This hole is about to be vacated with only treasure and untapped ore left behind. All the nobility will fly here faster than the bats they lovingly stroke each night … and what they shall find is a guard who remained true to his duties even when all else have fled. They will hire you on the spot."
"You must be joking. That won't help my case. It'd be clear I failed to stop you. It's easy to get another job with a warlord in the wilds. But with nobility, they get to be picky. They only want the best."
"Ohohohoho … incorrect."
"What?"
"As a guard, your job isn't to stop intruders. That's what doors are for. The purpose of a guard is simply to look the part. It's a role wholly concerned with aesthetics."
"That's ridiculous."
"No? And yet here you are, dressed like an armoury to the point of impracticality."
The bugbear fell silent.
I pointed behind me.
"Very soon, a host of prospective employers will be here. And showing that you're willing to offer your life in defence of them is the greatest trait there is. Anyone can be a guard. But few can be a loyal guard. Now, what do you normally do when you allow intruders to pass by?"
"Well, I … uh, I sort of pretend I was knocked out."
"Excellent. Then you shall do the same again. But better."
I clicked my fingers, then pointed at the entrance he was tasked with guarding.
"Just there. Yes, right there. Slump against the doorway as though violently propelled by a great force. Have both your legs slightly twisted, with one hand nursing a debilitating wound to your abdomen and the other holding your weapon upright. Thus, not only did you bravely make your last stand, but you still attempted to raise yourself in a final act of defiance. Maintain this position and I guarantee that within 48 hours, you shall have representatives of the aristocracy checking your groaning but miraculously conscious state. Speak of a horror you cannot recall and your regret you were powerless to stop it. Their eyes will light with pride at a scene which tells a story of heroism against the odds."
A blank stare was all I received for my instructions.
But not for long.
A frown was made. A cheek was scratched. A hum was sounded.
Then, the bugbear easily lifted his warhammer from the ground … before suddenly stumbling backwards as though struck by a hill giant's fist, slumping magnificently against the open doorway.
"Oh dear," he said. "I appear to be incapacitated."
He twisted his legs slightly.
Ohohohohohohohoho!!
I smiled in delight at the scene.
Like a beautiful garden carefully arranged, each awkward limb told a tale which needed no words.
"... I wish you well in your future endeavours," I said as I promptly climbed over the splayed legs. "I've no doubt with your talents, you shall enjoy a profitable career at the expense of the realm's vultures."
A moment later, I turned around, noting the lack of anyone following me.
"Pffffffffft."
To my dismay, Coppelia was busy holding back her laughter.
She had both hands to her mouth … neither of which were helping to reduce the way her cheeks were now worryingly crinkled.
Despite this, it was a slightly more regal expression than what the commoner wore.
He was gawping at the fallen bugbear like a goldfish chewing on a pebble. A deeply unflattering look not helped by a cat climbing atop his head.
I nodded, smiled, then decided to ignore both.
… Right! It was time to chastise an adventurer!
- Location
- Argentina
Well, that happened.
She must be never allowed to become a queen.
She must be never allowed to become a queen.
Heresy! You will never join her personal entourage with that attitude!
Chapter 335: Her Name
New
They say the greatest accolade an adventurer could earn was retirement.
Timon Quinsley disagreed. All the more so since everyone insisted on sticking an ankle out until he tripped directly into it.
They failed–even with his help.
Year after year, he ensured that the angle of his stooped back and the shuffling of his gait was just a tiny bit more promising. An open invitation for the most ambitious of his juniors to brave a lunge for the chair in his office.
He continued to happily punt them all away.
Retirement, after all, was nothing less than oblivion packaged with a parting gift of flowers and a bottle of wine. And given how famously cheap his colleagues were, he fully expected the flowers to be plucked from beside a sewer and the wine found rolling across his own guild hall.
… If he was lucky.
Still, even if they bothered to dig into their coin purses to offer a man of his years the raucous farewell he deserved, he'd still not have traded even the finest night which crowns could buy for the worst morning he could suffer.
For one thing, if the guildmaster of Reitzlake cared for luxury, that chair would've been the first thing to go. It was still as dented as the day he'd first sat upon it. But it was the same chair his predecessor had sat on. And it would be the same for his replacement as well.
Eventually.
But not today.
Adventuring was more than a profession. It was the expression of the soul. And his was as young as the tiny squirrels which liked to visit his hall.
There was less flashing steel and barbed wit these days, of course. The song of battle had been largely replaced by the stony candour of politics, financial considerations and petty rivalries.
But for the kingdom's most famed and slyest fox, he only grew into his element, his eyes alive with colour even as his hair turned grey. There was a certain joy in fending off the tuttings of headquarters which others failed to appreciate.
However … that didn't mean he'd forgotten the true joy of adventuring.
The thrill of danger. The warmth of companionship. The breeze of the wide open world. All of it came together like a harmony to serenade his heart. Which was a problem.
Because right now, Timon Quinsley only had the danger part.
Most of it coming from his companions.
Either side of him, Miranda Howe and Mathias Tebrim wore differing shades of ire and resignation as they peered upon what was most certainly a bad day in the making.
A corridor filled to the brim with deadly goblin traps.
It was a poor sign for their health. Even amongst traps, the ones made by goblins held a special ranking for their unnecessary flamboyancy. It wasn't enough that they incinerated intruders into ashes. They incinerated them into different colours of ashes.
Given the expressions that Timon's two companions wore, they were about to volunteer to turn him into a shade even the goblins hadn't invented yet.
"I should have burned your message like I'd planned," said Mathias, his shoulders sagging. "I want it noted that I became a guildmaster so I would never have to do this again. What exactly am I hiring adventurers for if I still need to get myself killed as if I'm still a fresh-faced F-rank?"
Timon chuckled.
Some might ask him why he'd brought Stermondt's guildmaster along. And he'd have no answer. They were friends, enemies or rivals depending on the day of the week. But it kept them both on their toes.
And hopefully away from death at the hands of something exploding.
"You hire F-ranks so that you do not need to climb your own rooftop to fetch cats. A much more dangerous proposition for you given the state of your guild hall. A feat I still applaud, by the way. To be in a town of craftsmen and not find a single labourer able to patch the size of your leaks is impressive."
"Alas, Mr. Quinsley, all the good labourers have long fled. They caught wind that you'd left the royal capital. As there's a one in four chance you would head east, they had the good prudence to leave."
"One in four is much too respectable a figure. Given the size of the rats which spawn in your cellar, I'm afraid that Stermondt's reputation as a travel destination continues to plummet. A shame you lost all that fog. It hid the blemishes well."
"Quite the shame, indeed. The fog would have ensured the good labourers of Stermondt stayed, knowing your wrinkles would be hidden from their eyes."
"–Gentlemen, please."
Miranda Howe frowned.
It was enough.
"I see Marinsgarde has certainly changed," she said, turning everyone's attention back to the lethal corridor. "The last time I was here, I don't recall there being a literal castle. Guildmaster Triniard was being lax with the details as usual."
"Lax is that man's specialty," said Mathias. "It's a shock he even managed to cause this, given how little he leaves his chair. I see no reason why he shouldn't be here helping us fix this problem."
"By all accounts, he's suffering more than us. Now that the nobles have finally caught wind of this atrocity, Hugo will need to sit through their demands for compensation. No doubt his replacement will be happy. Who's next in line?"
"I believe it's Tillie Pilton. Her stock has rapidly risen after the Hartzwiese incident. I hardly see why. It wasn't her adventurer who helped sort out that mess."
Timon snorted.
"True. It wasn't. And as someone who equally benefited from the same adventurer, how does that make you feel?"
"Delighted and deeply grateful, of course. Although I imagine my happiness fails to match yours. You must be pleased, having so efficiently stolen away Cedric Hall's own prized recruit. He'll scarcely have a token of acknowledgement."
"You act as if I did it to wrong him. I promise that's not the case. I steal promising talent from everyone."
"Yes, you do," said Miranda, her voice like a snapping whip. The beginnings of an argument ceased once more. "But she isn't here. We are. And now we've confirmed this most certainly goes beyond the remit of this … cultural exchange Hugo has agreed to. We must make a decision. How do we proceed?"
Both pairs of eyes turned to Timon Quinsley.
Although they were each the same rank, their statuses were as far apart as the wine selection at their respective bars. Timon might be wrapped in a travelling cloak so faded he looked more like a beggar than a guildmaster, but he was first among equals. The de facto leader of the Kingdom of Tirea's entire Adventurer's Guild. And that meant he had responsibilities.
Such as rubbing it in the face of his juniors when they came cap in hand.
"We proceed," he said with a smile.
Groans answered him. But no complaints.
After all, this was not a job for any ordinary adventurer. For it was not a matter of monsters or cats they were dealing with … even if they were often one and the same.
No, this time, it was a matter of one of their own.
Liliane Harten.
Despite Hugo's letter, Timon hadn't quite prepared himself for the sight which awaited in Marinsgarde. Goblins as adventurers. And each recommended by Liliane. Unprecedented in this kingdom. That it was agreed was an obvious attempt by Hugo to raise his own standing.
But it was also shortsighted and foolhardy.
Goblins did not need to be adventurers. For what humans required a copper ring for, they did as a matter of course. They wandered the continent from the forests to the mountains, exploring what was still uncharted, hidden beneath shadow, leaf and stone.
If they were adventurers, then there was very clearly a reason beyond the crowns they didn't need to earn. For what did goblins need of coins when they could already barter as well as any troll merchant?
No … Guildmastser Triniard was correct to be concerned.
Because in all the times he'd personally met Liliane Harten, she'd never once struck as the type to herald such an ambitious scheme. She was careful, polite and self-conscious. Rare and valuable traits for adventurers. And Timon very much doubted any sudden change boded for the better.
Seeing what he did now, he knew it was all but certain.
"You're simply overjoyed that Hugo reached out to you, aren't you?" said Mathias.
"Of course I am. Our fellow guildmasters rarely do secrets. A letter sealed for my eyes only can mean only two things. An unannounced inspection is occurring, or something calamitous has happened. We should be grateful it's only something calamitous."
Miranda bit her lips as she gazed at the corridor to be crossed.
Though the youngest amongst them, she looked the most experienced of all. A natural candour born from her noble ancestry.
"Yes, well, this doesn't disappoint," she said. "Even now, I'm not certain what's more strange. That Liliane has lost the plot or the fact that you would deem it so alarming that you needed us as well."
"It cannot be helped. If there are concerns regarding the conduct of one of their own, that would normally be a local matter. But an A-rank adventurer concerns the entire kingdom. And that means we all bear responsibility."
"We know what you're doing, you old man. You wish for us all to be involved if this turns out horribly."
"That I do. And still you came."
"Of course. Both Mathias and I are not as free as you. We cannot afford to spend time at your funeral."
"Your kind words never fail to warm my heart, Miranda."
"Good." Miranda raised her palms. "Your muscles should be relaxed. I'll attempt to levitate us past. I believe we can avoid the majority of these traps if we simply take the high route. But it will be slow going if I'm to hoist both of your egos."
Timon was about to point out only Mathias needed a helping hand. Great as his ego was, it still wasn't too heavy for his legs–despite what his stooped back might suggest.
A moment later, it was something he needed to prove.
The guildmasters turned their eyes towards the corridor behind them. Gone was the bickering of old colleagues as their words were swept away by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
And not just one.
A stampede was approaching.
"Fast going it is, then," said Miranda. "[Major Levitate]."
Magic swirled in the former B-rank mage's hands. Both she and Mathias rose. Even faster since her magic didn't need to be shared with Timon.
The old man who walked with shunted steps did away with the guise which lacked only a walking stick. Faster than any spell which could be cast upon him, he leapt upwards, his soles finding the wall before propelling himself all the way up to the exposed ceiling beams.
He was joined a moment later by Miranda and Mathias.
At such a height, the magic expenditure meant neither the seasoned mage nor her burden could move. But none of them needed to. They simply needed to wait for that to pass.
A horde of redcaps.
Highly dangerous foes in their own right. What they lacked in size, they made up for in violence. Timon had seen what redcaps could do. And that was to their own summoner. Even now, he wasn't sure where all the blood came from.
That was just a small group.
Now it was an entire warband. A scene worthy of nightmares … and yet the gasps he heard from his colleagues were not for them.
It was for the pair currently being chased by them.
A clockwork doll. A rare enough sight in the Kingdom of Tirea. She smiled as nigh on every trap was triggered in the same corridor they'd moments ago been discussing. The result was nothing short of unfettered carnage. A carnival of destruction which rose as high as Timon's ankles.
All things a highly capable clockwork doll might be expected to evade … but not the girl beside her, no older than the youngest waitress a proprietor might trust not to break their plates.
A girl who simply refused to be struck.
One by one, the corridor came alive with death's glare as tiles clicked, cogs groaned and blades swung. But it was not with the breathlessness of desperation that she avoided it all. It was with the disdain of Timon disregarding the letters from headquarters.
Saws, scythes and blades swished around her, joined by bursts of hellfire and the screaming of arrows.
Even so, she didn't roll to and fro like a seasoned thief, nor did she deny the rush of death with a burst of magic or the swipe of a shield.
She simply … skipped.
Instruments which would have incinerated or decapitated an acrobat from the Cirque du Sable found only air. And if they were lucky, one of several afterimages. Such was the girl's absurd footwork, only a garuda could have tracked her. And she didn't even look like she was trying.
In fact–
"The alpaca. I would give that toxic cloud shape a generous 7/10 … maybe 8/10."
She was having a conversation!
Timon Quinsley was the longest serving guildmaster in the kingdom. And while few knew the truth of who he was before that, he had seen rogues so swift that elven blademasters seemed as sluggish as a drifting leaf. Most notably in a mirror.
But this–
This was something else.
"What …" whispered Mathias, his complaints stopped at last. "What am I seeing ... ?"
It was a reasonable question.
But although Timon also didn't know what he was seeing, he knew with every instinct of his being who he was seeing.
He knew it as certain as the dark colour of her hair. The ruby pommel of the sword by her hip. The clockwork doll by her side. And an appearance which would have headquarters begging for her to grace their recruitment posters.
It was her.
Juliette.
The Kingdom of Tirea's very own enigma.
One whose name was apparently known to every receptionist. He was in Trierport when he received the A-rank certificate to be signed. A notion so absurd, so unprecedented and so certain to cause faces to pale at headquarters that he had no choice but to immediately accept.
Especially since Mirabelle had practically threatened him with paperwork if he refused.
The shock of seeing her landed harder than any of the explosions. So much so, that even as they faded and left only the scars in its wake, both Miranda and Mathias were already gawping amidst the flaming wreckage as he jumped down to join them.
The chaos was complete.
What had once been a corridor was now so vapourised that not even the original colour of the floor remained. Yet for all the embers, not a single eye was upon them. They were upon the backs which had vanished into the distance, lost amidst a cavern entrance.
Miranda began to mouth a question. She needed a second to remember to vocalise words as well.
"Mr. Quinsley, was that … ?"
Timon nodded in answer.
There were questions to be asked. Highly pertinent ones, considering that redcaps were not summoned idly, and the only capable conjurer they were aware of was the very same they were hoping to query.
But like all humans, they could only focus on what was before them. And that was the image of a girl who'd casually waltzed through death while purposefully leading a chasing horde through it.
"... A fine display," said Timon with a smile. "Better than me at that age, certainly."
Mathias blinked, his astonishment only growing by the moment.
"Timon … is that who I think it is?"
"I believe so, yes. Although you'd need Mirabelle to confirm it. They seem to be close knitted, after all. I should offer my receptionist more credit. Seeing such footwork, I'm surprised she ever managed to catch up to her."
"Did you know she was going to be here? Is this some scheme for us to judge her ourselves? … Because I don't think I am mad if it is."
Timon gave a hoarse laugh.
"I've my hand in more schemes than I have fingers to spare, but this isn't one of them."
"... Honestly?"
"Honestly. I didn't expect to find her here. But perhaps I shouldn't be surprised."
Mathias swallowed a gulp.
"It seems our presence might be unneeded, after all. I would say it was a waste to come here, but to see who dispelled the fog in my town is worth any trip. I'm told she defeated both an A-rank cleric and a vampire under her thrall. I never could have imagined she was so young."
"Youth is a strength, not a weakness. And her steps have yet to be dulled by the experience of defeat."
"She must be here for the same reason as us," said Miranda. "I see now it's Hugo's turn to benefit. Do we offer our assistance?"
Timon gave a hum.
Ordinarily, it was nothing short of common sense for them to join hands. But nothing about that girl featured in any definition of the word.
"With our legs? I think not. She didn't navigate the kingdom from Rolstein to Hartzwiese by slowing her pace for guildmasters flailing in her wake."
"We cannot do nothing."
"I never said we would. Our task remains unchanged. It may just have become simpler."
"... You wish to leave the matter of Liliane to her?"
"I've simply a mind not to interfere to all our detriment. Our role is to assist. And I believe currently, this is best achieved at a respectable distance."
Timon smiled as he led the way.
The two with him traded sighs. But the usual snorts were absent.
After all, they were each of the same mind. The same curiosity. Disbelieving their own eyes, they wished to see even more how this mysterious young adventurer fared in the darkness ahead.
And a goblin cavern was about as dark as they got.
Timon Quinsley disagreed. All the more so since everyone insisted on sticking an ankle out until he tripped directly into it.
They failed–even with his help.
Year after year, he ensured that the angle of his stooped back and the shuffling of his gait was just a tiny bit more promising. An open invitation for the most ambitious of his juniors to brave a lunge for the chair in his office.
He continued to happily punt them all away.
Retirement, after all, was nothing less than oblivion packaged with a parting gift of flowers and a bottle of wine. And given how famously cheap his colleagues were, he fully expected the flowers to be plucked from beside a sewer and the wine found rolling across his own guild hall.
… If he was lucky.
Still, even if they bothered to dig into their coin purses to offer a man of his years the raucous farewell he deserved, he'd still not have traded even the finest night which crowns could buy for the worst morning he could suffer.
For one thing, if the guildmaster of Reitzlake cared for luxury, that chair would've been the first thing to go. It was still as dented as the day he'd first sat upon it. But it was the same chair his predecessor had sat on. And it would be the same for his replacement as well.
Eventually.
But not today.
Adventuring was more than a profession. It was the expression of the soul. And his was as young as the tiny squirrels which liked to visit his hall.
There was less flashing steel and barbed wit these days, of course. The song of battle had been largely replaced by the stony candour of politics, financial considerations and petty rivalries.
But for the kingdom's most famed and slyest fox, he only grew into his element, his eyes alive with colour even as his hair turned grey. There was a certain joy in fending off the tuttings of headquarters which others failed to appreciate.
However … that didn't mean he'd forgotten the true joy of adventuring.
The thrill of danger. The warmth of companionship. The breeze of the wide open world. All of it came together like a harmony to serenade his heart. Which was a problem.
Because right now, Timon Quinsley only had the danger part.
Most of it coming from his companions.
Either side of him, Miranda Howe and Mathias Tebrim wore differing shades of ire and resignation as they peered upon what was most certainly a bad day in the making.
A corridor filled to the brim with deadly goblin traps.
It was a poor sign for their health. Even amongst traps, the ones made by goblins held a special ranking for their unnecessary flamboyancy. It wasn't enough that they incinerated intruders into ashes. They incinerated them into different colours of ashes.
Given the expressions that Timon's two companions wore, they were about to volunteer to turn him into a shade even the goblins hadn't invented yet.
"I should have burned your message like I'd planned," said Mathias, his shoulders sagging. "I want it noted that I became a guildmaster so I would never have to do this again. What exactly am I hiring adventurers for if I still need to get myself killed as if I'm still a fresh-faced F-rank?"
Timon chuckled.
Some might ask him why he'd brought Stermondt's guildmaster along. And he'd have no answer. They were friends, enemies or rivals depending on the day of the week. But it kept them both on their toes.
And hopefully away from death at the hands of something exploding.
"You hire F-ranks so that you do not need to climb your own rooftop to fetch cats. A much more dangerous proposition for you given the state of your guild hall. A feat I still applaud, by the way. To be in a town of craftsmen and not find a single labourer able to patch the size of your leaks is impressive."
"Alas, Mr. Quinsley, all the good labourers have long fled. They caught wind that you'd left the royal capital. As there's a one in four chance you would head east, they had the good prudence to leave."
"One in four is much too respectable a figure. Given the size of the rats which spawn in your cellar, I'm afraid that Stermondt's reputation as a travel destination continues to plummet. A shame you lost all that fog. It hid the blemishes well."
"Quite the shame, indeed. The fog would have ensured the good labourers of Stermondt stayed, knowing your wrinkles would be hidden from their eyes."
"–Gentlemen, please."
Miranda Howe frowned.
It was enough.
"I see Marinsgarde has certainly changed," she said, turning everyone's attention back to the lethal corridor. "The last time I was here, I don't recall there being a literal castle. Guildmaster Triniard was being lax with the details as usual."
"Lax is that man's specialty," said Mathias. "It's a shock he even managed to cause this, given how little he leaves his chair. I see no reason why he shouldn't be here helping us fix this problem."
"By all accounts, he's suffering more than us. Now that the nobles have finally caught wind of this atrocity, Hugo will need to sit through their demands for compensation. No doubt his replacement will be happy. Who's next in line?"
"I believe it's Tillie Pilton. Her stock has rapidly risen after the Hartzwiese incident. I hardly see why. It wasn't her adventurer who helped sort out that mess."
Timon snorted.
"True. It wasn't. And as someone who equally benefited from the same adventurer, how does that make you feel?"
"Delighted and deeply grateful, of course. Although I imagine my happiness fails to match yours. You must be pleased, having so efficiently stolen away Cedric Hall's own prized recruit. He'll scarcely have a token of acknowledgement."
"You act as if I did it to wrong him. I promise that's not the case. I steal promising talent from everyone."
"Yes, you do," said Miranda, her voice like a snapping whip. The beginnings of an argument ceased once more. "But she isn't here. We are. And now we've confirmed this most certainly goes beyond the remit of this … cultural exchange Hugo has agreed to. We must make a decision. How do we proceed?"
Both pairs of eyes turned to Timon Quinsley.
Although they were each the same rank, their statuses were as far apart as the wine selection at their respective bars. Timon might be wrapped in a travelling cloak so faded he looked more like a beggar than a guildmaster, but he was first among equals. The de facto leader of the Kingdom of Tirea's entire Adventurer's Guild. And that meant he had responsibilities.
Such as rubbing it in the face of his juniors when they came cap in hand.
"We proceed," he said with a smile.
Groans answered him. But no complaints.
After all, this was not a job for any ordinary adventurer. For it was not a matter of monsters or cats they were dealing with … even if they were often one and the same.
No, this time, it was a matter of one of their own.
Liliane Harten.
Despite Hugo's letter, Timon hadn't quite prepared himself for the sight which awaited in Marinsgarde. Goblins as adventurers. And each recommended by Liliane. Unprecedented in this kingdom. That it was agreed was an obvious attempt by Hugo to raise his own standing.
But it was also shortsighted and foolhardy.
Goblins did not need to be adventurers. For what humans required a copper ring for, they did as a matter of course. They wandered the continent from the forests to the mountains, exploring what was still uncharted, hidden beneath shadow, leaf and stone.
If they were adventurers, then there was very clearly a reason beyond the crowns they didn't need to earn. For what did goblins need of coins when they could already barter as well as any troll merchant?
No … Guildmastser Triniard was correct to be concerned.
Because in all the times he'd personally met Liliane Harten, she'd never once struck as the type to herald such an ambitious scheme. She was careful, polite and self-conscious. Rare and valuable traits for adventurers. And Timon very much doubted any sudden change boded for the better.
Seeing what he did now, he knew it was all but certain.
"You're simply overjoyed that Hugo reached out to you, aren't you?" said Mathias.
"Of course I am. Our fellow guildmasters rarely do secrets. A letter sealed for my eyes only can mean only two things. An unannounced inspection is occurring, or something calamitous has happened. We should be grateful it's only something calamitous."
Miranda bit her lips as she gazed at the corridor to be crossed.
Though the youngest amongst them, she looked the most experienced of all. A natural candour born from her noble ancestry.
"Yes, well, this doesn't disappoint," she said. "Even now, I'm not certain what's more strange. That Liliane has lost the plot or the fact that you would deem it so alarming that you needed us as well."
"It cannot be helped. If there are concerns regarding the conduct of one of their own, that would normally be a local matter. But an A-rank adventurer concerns the entire kingdom. And that means we all bear responsibility."
"We know what you're doing, you old man. You wish for us all to be involved if this turns out horribly."
"That I do. And still you came."
"Of course. Both Mathias and I are not as free as you. We cannot afford to spend time at your funeral."
"Your kind words never fail to warm my heart, Miranda."
"Good." Miranda raised her palms. "Your muscles should be relaxed. I'll attempt to levitate us past. I believe we can avoid the majority of these traps if we simply take the high route. But it will be slow going if I'm to hoist both of your egos."
Timon was about to point out only Mathias needed a helping hand. Great as his ego was, it still wasn't too heavy for his legs–despite what his stooped back might suggest.
A moment later, it was something he needed to prove.
The guildmasters turned their eyes towards the corridor behind them. Gone was the bickering of old colleagues as their words were swept away by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
And not just one.
A stampede was approaching.
"Fast going it is, then," said Miranda. "[Major Levitate]."
Magic swirled in the former B-rank mage's hands. Both she and Mathias rose. Even faster since her magic didn't need to be shared with Timon.
The old man who walked with shunted steps did away with the guise which lacked only a walking stick. Faster than any spell which could be cast upon him, he leapt upwards, his soles finding the wall before propelling himself all the way up to the exposed ceiling beams.
He was joined a moment later by Miranda and Mathias.
At such a height, the magic expenditure meant neither the seasoned mage nor her burden could move. But none of them needed to. They simply needed to wait for that to pass.
A horde of redcaps.
Highly dangerous foes in their own right. What they lacked in size, they made up for in violence. Timon had seen what redcaps could do. And that was to their own summoner. Even now, he wasn't sure where all the blood came from.
That was just a small group.
Now it was an entire warband. A scene worthy of nightmares … and yet the gasps he heard from his colleagues were not for them.
It was for the pair currently being chased by them.
A clockwork doll. A rare enough sight in the Kingdom of Tirea. She smiled as nigh on every trap was triggered in the same corridor they'd moments ago been discussing. The result was nothing short of unfettered carnage. A carnival of destruction which rose as high as Timon's ankles.
All things a highly capable clockwork doll might be expected to evade … but not the girl beside her, no older than the youngest waitress a proprietor might trust not to break their plates.
A girl who simply refused to be struck.
One by one, the corridor came alive with death's glare as tiles clicked, cogs groaned and blades swung. But it was not with the breathlessness of desperation that she avoided it all. It was with the disdain of Timon disregarding the letters from headquarters.
Saws, scythes and blades swished around her, joined by bursts of hellfire and the screaming of arrows.
Even so, she didn't roll to and fro like a seasoned thief, nor did she deny the rush of death with a burst of magic or the swipe of a shield.
She simply … skipped.
Instruments which would have incinerated or decapitated an acrobat from the Cirque du Sable found only air. And if they were lucky, one of several afterimages. Such was the girl's absurd footwork, only a garuda could have tracked her. And she didn't even look like she was trying.
In fact–
"The alpaca. I would give that toxic cloud shape a generous 7/10 … maybe 8/10."
She was having a conversation!
Timon Quinsley was the longest serving guildmaster in the kingdom. And while few knew the truth of who he was before that, he had seen rogues so swift that elven blademasters seemed as sluggish as a drifting leaf. Most notably in a mirror.
But this–
This was something else.
"What …" whispered Mathias, his complaints stopped at last. "What am I seeing ... ?"
It was a reasonable question.
But although Timon also didn't know what he was seeing, he knew with every instinct of his being who he was seeing.
He knew it as certain as the dark colour of her hair. The ruby pommel of the sword by her hip. The clockwork doll by her side. And an appearance which would have headquarters begging for her to grace their recruitment posters.
It was her.
Juliette.
The Kingdom of Tirea's very own enigma.
One whose name was apparently known to every receptionist. He was in Trierport when he received the A-rank certificate to be signed. A notion so absurd, so unprecedented and so certain to cause faces to pale at headquarters that he had no choice but to immediately accept.
Especially since Mirabelle had practically threatened him with paperwork if he refused.
The shock of seeing her landed harder than any of the explosions. So much so, that even as they faded and left only the scars in its wake, both Miranda and Mathias were already gawping amidst the flaming wreckage as he jumped down to join them.
The chaos was complete.
What had once been a corridor was now so vapourised that not even the original colour of the floor remained. Yet for all the embers, not a single eye was upon them. They were upon the backs which had vanished into the distance, lost amidst a cavern entrance.
Miranda began to mouth a question. She needed a second to remember to vocalise words as well.
"Mr. Quinsley, was that … ?"
Timon nodded in answer.
There were questions to be asked. Highly pertinent ones, considering that redcaps were not summoned idly, and the only capable conjurer they were aware of was the very same they were hoping to query.
But like all humans, they could only focus on what was before them. And that was the image of a girl who'd casually waltzed through death while purposefully leading a chasing horde through it.
"... A fine display," said Timon with a smile. "Better than me at that age, certainly."
Mathias blinked, his astonishment only growing by the moment.
"Timon … is that who I think it is?"
"I believe so, yes. Although you'd need Mirabelle to confirm it. They seem to be close knitted, after all. I should offer my receptionist more credit. Seeing such footwork, I'm surprised she ever managed to catch up to her."
"Did you know she was going to be here? Is this some scheme for us to judge her ourselves? … Because I don't think I am mad if it is."
Timon gave a hoarse laugh.
"I've my hand in more schemes than I have fingers to spare, but this isn't one of them."
"... Honestly?"
"Honestly. I didn't expect to find her here. But perhaps I shouldn't be surprised."
Mathias swallowed a gulp.
"It seems our presence might be unneeded, after all. I would say it was a waste to come here, but to see who dispelled the fog in my town is worth any trip. I'm told she defeated both an A-rank cleric and a vampire under her thrall. I never could have imagined she was so young."
"Youth is a strength, not a weakness. And her steps have yet to be dulled by the experience of defeat."
"She must be here for the same reason as us," said Miranda. "I see now it's Hugo's turn to benefit. Do we offer our assistance?"
Timon gave a hum.
Ordinarily, it was nothing short of common sense for them to join hands. But nothing about that girl featured in any definition of the word.
"With our legs? I think not. She didn't navigate the kingdom from Rolstein to Hartzwiese by slowing her pace for guildmasters flailing in her wake."
"We cannot do nothing."
"I never said we would. Our task remains unchanged. It may just have become simpler."
"... You wish to leave the matter of Liliane to her?"
"I've simply a mind not to interfere to all our detriment. Our role is to assist. And I believe currently, this is best achieved at a respectable distance."
Timon smiled as he led the way.
The two with him traded sighs. But the usual snorts were absent.
After all, they were each of the same mind. The same curiosity. Disbelieving their own eyes, they wished to see even more how this mysterious young adventurer fared in the darkness ahead.
And a goblin cavern was about as dark as they got.
- Location
- Argentina
"I am curious, Is honesty that hard to see that she is a princess?" The Globin guard asked with a grunt and an ear scratch.
"Not really, humans are just dumb like that." His fellow guard answered with a grunt and scratching his belly.
"So, what we do if the cursed crown gets destroyed?" The first globin guard asked with actual words.
"Get a new one." The second guard said with a 'Are you stupid?' Kind of look.
"Why are we even allowing someone being puppeted by a cursed crown to rule us?" The first guard asked using two butt scratches.
"We are not strong enough to kill that human ourselves, that is why." The second guard said with a 'What else can we do?" kind of look.
"Not really, humans are just dumb like that." His fellow guard answered with a grunt and scratching his belly.
"So, what we do if the cursed crown gets destroyed?" The first globin guard asked with actual words.
"Get a new one." The second guard said with a 'Are you stupid?' Kind of look.
"Why are we even allowing someone being puppeted by a cursed crown to rule us?" The first guard asked using two butt scratches.
"We are not strong enough to kill that human ourselves, that is why." The second guard said with a 'What else can we do?" kind of look.
Chapter 336: One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows
New
Timon Quinsley didn't miss this part.
He missed it even less now that his eyes were worse.
Inside the goblin cave, everything which existed to remind him of his warm office glinted beneath the rare bouts of light. There was romance in adventuring, of course. In the sunlight streaming through a forest canopy, in the glittering of a starry sky and in the crackling of a campfire.
But none of it could be found here.
"[Eye Of The Seeker]".
Before him, Miranda Howe called forth a spectral eye to follow the footsteps of the pair in front.
Ensuring they remained at a healthy distance, the three guildmasters played a dance they hadn't performed for many years. Even so, it was one which came as naturally to them as declining the discretionary bonuses their adventurers felt they deserved after every commission. Even if they failed.
As Miranda focused on concealing her magic, both Timon Quinsley and Mathias Tebrim helped to ensure that their very particular mage didn't step into any water slimes. The guildmaster of Eisenwaldt with a will as steely as her town was known for many things, but the ability to endure slightly wet soles was seemingly just beyond her reach.
Timon quite liked that about her. Although he'd never say it.
He valued the grey hair he had left.
Quietly, with only the minimum of whispers to confirm their quarry remained in front, the seasoned trio shook away the dust upon their bones as they relived the footsteps they'd taken in a different cave somewhere multiple times in the past.
Only when the faint murmurings of voices could be heard did they stop. They waited for the echoes to vanish once again. This time, they didn't.
"They've stopped," said Mathias. "Dare we see why?"
Miranda nodded. She sent her spectral eye forwards.
A bead of sweat was already falling down her temple. Her [Eye Of The Seeker] was not a simple spell, and ensuring it remained hidden was even less so.
"There's a treasure chest," she said simply, before her brows dented. "... Mimic."
Both Mathias and Timon traded groans. They hushed themselves at once.
Every single adventurer past D-rank had experiences with mimics. And none of them pleasant. By and large, they weren't the most dangerous of monsters. But to be assailed by a mimic's tongue was a sensation which only magefire and therapy could cure.
It was not a danger for A-rank adventurers … but this girl had climbed the ranks at a pace which outdid all known records. The only concern to Timon was that what was considered a past experience to others of her rank might just be the first experience for her.
"... And?" asked Mathias. "Is she ignoring it?"
"No."
"She's opening the mimic?"
"Still no. She appears to be pushing it. Towards a ledge."
Mathias nodded at once.
"Hm. So opting to remove it instead. And not even by destroying it. Highly prudent. She must know that when mimics are destroyed, the treasure within bursts outwards like an explosion."
A moment later–
"... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh …"
A bellowing, girlish scream filled the cavern.
"What in the hells was that?" asked Mathias, hand going to his sword.
"I don't know," replied Miranda plainly, tilting her head as she navigated her spectral eye. "Wait a moment, I need to fix this. The high pitch of the scream shook my spellwork."
Silence abounded as the men waited for an update on what horrific monstrosity required their attention. It was several minutes before they received their answer.
"... Hm. Now this is a surprise. Thomas's protégé is here."
"Thomas's?" Mathias blinked as he searched for a name. "… Wait, you mean the Oxwell boy?"
"The very same. He appears to have a cat on his head."
"What is he doing here? The girl is one thing. But he cannot possibly know about Liliane as well."
"I'm uncertain. But it appears as if they're already acquainted. At the very least, the girl seems pleased to meet him. She's laughing quite … violently."
"Violently?"
"I can't explain it. But it looks rather theatrical. They seem to be on good terms."
A mystery within a mystery.
One which nobody had the answer to.
Timon indulged in his thoughts.
The most accomplished new adventurer and now the student of Thomas Lainsfont. How in the world they would already know each other was inexplicable to him. But if this girl was associated with Thomas Lainsfont, it would explain much. And yet there was no scenario in which a man very much not inclined to teaching would take on two students.
"A strange thing," he said, his amused voice almost inaudible. "It appears everybody has become acquainted with my own adventurer before I have. Next I'll be told even the Snow Dancer knows her."
Mathias snorted.
"If it makes you feel any better, half of your adventurers wish they didn't know you."
"Hoo. That one almost stung. Keep at it, and maybe you'll draw out a pity smile before I die."
"Gen-tle-men."
""Sorry.""
A simultaneous apology met Miranda's hard smile as she briefly broke from her spell. She returned as the voices vanished into the distance.
The guildmasters were silent in their own deliberations as they proceeded onwards, following the distant echoes. They delved past things darker than shadows and dead things pretending to be alive, until soon, even Timon's thoughts were turning back to original matters at hand.
These caves were far more extensive than he could have predicted. Guildmaster Triniard was more than lax. He was wilfully blind–as was much of Marinsgarde, their eyes veiled by the roaring trade in items that the Holy Church would no doubt issue a very stern protest regarding.
Items he could have used.
Even so, it wasn't the lack of light which caused him to almost stumble. It was the concerns regarding Liliane's abrupt turn of personality. He'd seen it before, of course. As an adventurer, a guildmaster, and something else far less principled. Yet few times did he feel as certain in his unease as now.
He hoped very much this was a misunderstanding.
In which case, a pointed word or two was all that was required.
If not, well–
Improvisation would be necessary.
"Bugbear," said Miranda suddenly.
The guildmasters slowed, but didn't pause.
Somewhere, the sound of conversation hinted at life in the darkness. And not all of it from the two adventurers and their clockwork assistant. Soon it became clearer. The voice of a bugbear, boasting the naturally stern tone which made it seem like they were permanently disgruntled.
Usually because they were.
"A patrol?" asked Mathias.
"No, stationary … a single bugbear guarding an entrance. Heavily armed."
"A bugbear champion, then. The pick of the bunch. Not the merriest news."
Miranda frowned, her lips pursing.
"It seems the Oxwell boy is aware of that. He appears utterly … well, bewildered."
The guildmaster of Reitzlake nodded.
Confusion was all too common a response when suddenly facing a superior foe. The fear came immediately afterwards.
"What of our adventurer?" he asked.
"She's engaging in dialogue with the bugbear. It doesn't appear favourable. Should we assist?"
Timon briefly closed his eyes.
Normally, he'd not think twice about declining. The girl had doubtless faced worse.
But the Oxwell boy shouldn't be here … and he was Thomas's lad, no matter what the kingdom's least sociable barkeeper said. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to his next drink if he allowed the boy to permanently gain a dent on his forehead.
After a moment of thought, he nodded.
"Then let's do that," he said lightly.
All of a sudden, the bad leg which had long healed was forgotten.
Betraying the lightest of footsteps, Timon skipped forwards until he was glancing past the corner. What he saw there was a sight which would give any adventurer reason to pause.
A bugbear arrayed with more weapons than he had arms to use … and that wasn't even counting the warhammer stuck in the ground like a sign nobody could misunderstand.
"... I can immobilise him," said Miranda, extinguishing her [Eye Of The Seeker] as she followed. "Mathias, how do you fare with your sword now?"
"Less well than 20 years ago," admitted the former C-rank just behind her.
"That will do. Mr. Quinsley?"
Timon's answer was to hold his hand up.
"Wait. Something's happening."
His fellow guildmasters joined him in peeking past the corner.
Frowns, uncertainty and apprehension flickered across each of their faces as the bugbear stilled. Yet in an instant, their expressions turned to dismay as the warhammer was suddenly lifted.
Miranda clicked her tongue. A pale light appeared in her palms at the same time that a throwing knife appeared between Mathias's fingers.
Only Timon didn't move.
A moment later, neither did his colleagues. They could only gawp instead.
Fwump.
Because without a single movement from the girl … a bugbear sturdy enough to ram down a building wildly stumbled backwards, before dropping like a marionette severed at the strings.
Just like that.
The song of battle had come to an end before the first string was even plucked.
The three guildmasters blinked in unison.
No words were exchanged between them. But none were needed. Their open mouths were enough.
At least for a moment.
"What in the abyss just happened?" whispered Mathias, as they each hurriedly retreated behind their corner. "Did she just take down a bugbear … with what? Magic?"
The almost childish look of shock on his face was enough to shave a decade's worth of wrinkles. It was shared by Miranda, whose usual seriousness was lost amidst her brows dented in confusion.
"There was no magic there. I'm sure of it. It was just … nothing."
"It can't have been nothing. I just saw a young girl bring down a bugbear so large I wouldn't dare go drinking against him, much less fight. How did she do that?"
"I'm uncertain. Perhaps if I had my [Eye Of The Seeker] still active, I would have seen something."
"That something had to be interference. She didn't even draw her sword."
Suddenly, Timon Quinsley let out a short note of amusement. His eyes glimmered with life as he turned to his colleagues. Neither of them wanted to look at him and the smirk to come.
"... Is that what you think now, Mathias?" he asked, the satisfaction clear in his tone. "Can you truly say for certain the girl didn't draw her sword?"
Stermondt's guildmaster blinked. A moment later, his open mouth only widened further.
"You cannot be serious."
"Indeed, I am." Timon nodded seriously, even as the edges of his lips curled upwards. "That girl … drew her sword so fast none of us could see it."
Quiet gasps met the veteran guildmaster's declaration.
No challenge came his way.
After all, they'd all seen it with their own eyes. Or rather, they hadn't.
"I've seen something like this before," said Timon, forehead wrinkling as distant memories were rekindled in his mind. "A strike so swift it appears as though the blade never left the sheath."
Mathias slowly nodded, even as a frown appeared.
"I've seen it well … although not nearly as clean. And even then, it required great concentration and form. The girl didn't assume any kind of ready posture. She was just … standing there."
"Indeed, while many claim to possess the ability to draw faster than an owl can track, few can do it as swift as a sudden breeze … yet that doesn't mean they do not exist."
"The elves, you mean."
Timon grinned.
"Indeed. It's said that only elven sword singers know it. Those who have dedicated a thousand years to perfecting the art of the blade, all to wield a sword technique unbeholden to the laws of this world."
"I've heard of that as well," said Miranda, her brows furrowing more than ever. "Even elven mages speak of such a thing at times. Are you saying that was it?"
A small chuckle was her reply, followed by a casual shrug.
"Who knows? It's the pinnacle of swordsmanship. Yet even a faint mirror of it would be beyond our eyes to see. They call it … the [One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] strike, for ten thousand is the number of lives that the blade once drawn can claim in the time that a single leaf drifts down from a branch."
Miranda shook her head in disbelief.
"[One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] … even the name is preposterous. If what we saw was anything close to that, then where … how could such a young girl have learned it?"
Silence answered on everyone's behalf.
Nobody knew. But perhaps nobody was meant to.
After all, in only a short span of time, the girl had shown both prudence and strength beyond those many times her age. It was little wonder why she was a favourite amongst the receptionists, whose words carried as much weight as the guildmasters they represented.
There was no doubt that soon, even their praise wouldn't be needed.
Her name was Juliette.
And as Timon Quinsley peeked around the corner with a smile of delight to watch his charge hopping away from the fallen bugbear, he knew with absolute certainty that she would strive earnestly to raise the Adventurer's Guild to its greatest heights yet.
He missed it even less now that his eyes were worse.
Inside the goblin cave, everything which existed to remind him of his warm office glinted beneath the rare bouts of light. There was romance in adventuring, of course. In the sunlight streaming through a forest canopy, in the glittering of a starry sky and in the crackling of a campfire.
But none of it could be found here.
"[Eye Of The Seeker]".
Before him, Miranda Howe called forth a spectral eye to follow the footsteps of the pair in front.
Ensuring they remained at a healthy distance, the three guildmasters played a dance they hadn't performed for many years. Even so, it was one which came as naturally to them as declining the discretionary bonuses their adventurers felt they deserved after every commission. Even if they failed.
As Miranda focused on concealing her magic, both Timon Quinsley and Mathias Tebrim helped to ensure that their very particular mage didn't step into any water slimes. The guildmaster of Eisenwaldt with a will as steely as her town was known for many things, but the ability to endure slightly wet soles was seemingly just beyond her reach.
Timon quite liked that about her. Although he'd never say it.
He valued the grey hair he had left.
Quietly, with only the minimum of whispers to confirm their quarry remained in front, the seasoned trio shook away the dust upon their bones as they relived the footsteps they'd taken in a different cave somewhere multiple times in the past.
Only when the faint murmurings of voices could be heard did they stop. They waited for the echoes to vanish once again. This time, they didn't.
"They've stopped," said Mathias. "Dare we see why?"
Miranda nodded. She sent her spectral eye forwards.
A bead of sweat was already falling down her temple. Her [Eye Of The Seeker] was not a simple spell, and ensuring it remained hidden was even less so.
"There's a treasure chest," she said simply, before her brows dented. "... Mimic."
Both Mathias and Timon traded groans. They hushed themselves at once.
Every single adventurer past D-rank had experiences with mimics. And none of them pleasant. By and large, they weren't the most dangerous of monsters. But to be assailed by a mimic's tongue was a sensation which only magefire and therapy could cure.
It was not a danger for A-rank adventurers … but this girl had climbed the ranks at a pace which outdid all known records. The only concern to Timon was that what was considered a past experience to others of her rank might just be the first experience for her.
"... And?" asked Mathias. "Is she ignoring it?"
"No."
"She's opening the mimic?"
"Still no. She appears to be pushing it. Towards a ledge."
Mathias nodded at once.
"Hm. So opting to remove it instead. And not even by destroying it. Highly prudent. She must know that when mimics are destroyed, the treasure within bursts outwards like an explosion."
A moment later–
"... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh …"
A bellowing, girlish scream filled the cavern.
"What in the hells was that?" asked Mathias, hand going to his sword.
"I don't know," replied Miranda plainly, tilting her head as she navigated her spectral eye. "Wait a moment, I need to fix this. The high pitch of the scream shook my spellwork."
Silence abounded as the men waited for an update on what horrific monstrosity required their attention. It was several minutes before they received their answer.
"... Hm. Now this is a surprise. Thomas's protégé is here."
"Thomas's?" Mathias blinked as he searched for a name. "… Wait, you mean the Oxwell boy?"
"The very same. He appears to have a cat on his head."
"What is he doing here? The girl is one thing. But he cannot possibly know about Liliane as well."
"I'm uncertain. But it appears as if they're already acquainted. At the very least, the girl seems pleased to meet him. She's laughing quite … violently."
"Violently?"
"I can't explain it. But it looks rather theatrical. They seem to be on good terms."
A mystery within a mystery.
One which nobody had the answer to.
Timon indulged in his thoughts.
The most accomplished new adventurer and now the student of Thomas Lainsfont. How in the world they would already know each other was inexplicable to him. But if this girl was associated with Thomas Lainsfont, it would explain much. And yet there was no scenario in which a man very much not inclined to teaching would take on two students.
"A strange thing," he said, his amused voice almost inaudible. "It appears everybody has become acquainted with my own adventurer before I have. Next I'll be told even the Snow Dancer knows her."
Mathias snorted.
"If it makes you feel any better, half of your adventurers wish they didn't know you."
"Hoo. That one almost stung. Keep at it, and maybe you'll draw out a pity smile before I die."
"Gen-tle-men."
""Sorry.""
A simultaneous apology met Miranda's hard smile as she briefly broke from her spell. She returned as the voices vanished into the distance.
The guildmasters were silent in their own deliberations as they proceeded onwards, following the distant echoes. They delved past things darker than shadows and dead things pretending to be alive, until soon, even Timon's thoughts were turning back to original matters at hand.
These caves were far more extensive than he could have predicted. Guildmaster Triniard was more than lax. He was wilfully blind–as was much of Marinsgarde, their eyes veiled by the roaring trade in items that the Holy Church would no doubt issue a very stern protest regarding.
Items he could have used.
Even so, it wasn't the lack of light which caused him to almost stumble. It was the concerns regarding Liliane's abrupt turn of personality. He'd seen it before, of course. As an adventurer, a guildmaster, and something else far less principled. Yet few times did he feel as certain in his unease as now.
He hoped very much this was a misunderstanding.
In which case, a pointed word or two was all that was required.
If not, well–
Improvisation would be necessary.
"Bugbear," said Miranda suddenly.
The guildmasters slowed, but didn't pause.
Somewhere, the sound of conversation hinted at life in the darkness. And not all of it from the two adventurers and their clockwork assistant. Soon it became clearer. The voice of a bugbear, boasting the naturally stern tone which made it seem like they were permanently disgruntled.
Usually because they were.
"A patrol?" asked Mathias.
"No, stationary … a single bugbear guarding an entrance. Heavily armed."
"A bugbear champion, then. The pick of the bunch. Not the merriest news."
Miranda frowned, her lips pursing.
"It seems the Oxwell boy is aware of that. He appears utterly … well, bewildered."
The guildmaster of Reitzlake nodded.
Confusion was all too common a response when suddenly facing a superior foe. The fear came immediately afterwards.
"What of our adventurer?" he asked.
"She's engaging in dialogue with the bugbear. It doesn't appear favourable. Should we assist?"
Timon briefly closed his eyes.
Normally, he'd not think twice about declining. The girl had doubtless faced worse.
But the Oxwell boy shouldn't be here … and he was Thomas's lad, no matter what the kingdom's least sociable barkeeper said. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to his next drink if he allowed the boy to permanently gain a dent on his forehead.
After a moment of thought, he nodded.
"Then let's do that," he said lightly.
All of a sudden, the bad leg which had long healed was forgotten.
Betraying the lightest of footsteps, Timon skipped forwards until he was glancing past the corner. What he saw there was a sight which would give any adventurer reason to pause.
A bugbear arrayed with more weapons than he had arms to use … and that wasn't even counting the warhammer stuck in the ground like a sign nobody could misunderstand.
"... I can immobilise him," said Miranda, extinguishing her [Eye Of The Seeker] as she followed. "Mathias, how do you fare with your sword now?"
"Less well than 20 years ago," admitted the former C-rank just behind her.
"That will do. Mr. Quinsley?"
Timon's answer was to hold his hand up.
"Wait. Something's happening."
His fellow guildmasters joined him in peeking past the corner.
Frowns, uncertainty and apprehension flickered across each of their faces as the bugbear stilled. Yet in an instant, their expressions turned to dismay as the warhammer was suddenly lifted.
Miranda clicked her tongue. A pale light appeared in her palms at the same time that a throwing knife appeared between Mathias's fingers.
Only Timon didn't move.
A moment later, neither did his colleagues. They could only gawp instead.
Fwump.
Because without a single movement from the girl … a bugbear sturdy enough to ram down a building wildly stumbled backwards, before dropping like a marionette severed at the strings.
Just like that.
The song of battle had come to an end before the first string was even plucked.
The three guildmasters blinked in unison.
No words were exchanged between them. But none were needed. Their open mouths were enough.
At least for a moment.
"What in the abyss just happened?" whispered Mathias, as they each hurriedly retreated behind their corner. "Did she just take down a bugbear … with what? Magic?"
The almost childish look of shock on his face was enough to shave a decade's worth of wrinkles. It was shared by Miranda, whose usual seriousness was lost amidst her brows dented in confusion.
"There was no magic there. I'm sure of it. It was just … nothing."
"It can't have been nothing. I just saw a young girl bring down a bugbear so large I wouldn't dare go drinking against him, much less fight. How did she do that?"
"I'm uncertain. Perhaps if I had my [Eye Of The Seeker] still active, I would have seen something."
"That something had to be interference. She didn't even draw her sword."
Suddenly, Timon Quinsley let out a short note of amusement. His eyes glimmered with life as he turned to his colleagues. Neither of them wanted to look at him and the smirk to come.
"... Is that what you think now, Mathias?" he asked, the satisfaction clear in his tone. "Can you truly say for certain the girl didn't draw her sword?"
Stermondt's guildmaster blinked. A moment later, his open mouth only widened further.
"You cannot be serious."
"Indeed, I am." Timon nodded seriously, even as the edges of his lips curled upwards. "That girl … drew her sword so fast none of us could see it."
Quiet gasps met the veteran guildmaster's declaration.
No challenge came his way.
After all, they'd all seen it with their own eyes. Or rather, they hadn't.
"I've seen something like this before," said Timon, forehead wrinkling as distant memories were rekindled in his mind. "A strike so swift it appears as though the blade never left the sheath."
Mathias slowly nodded, even as a frown appeared.
"I've seen it well … although not nearly as clean. And even then, it required great concentration and form. The girl didn't assume any kind of ready posture. She was just … standing there."
"Indeed, while many claim to possess the ability to draw faster than an owl can track, few can do it as swift as a sudden breeze … yet that doesn't mean they do not exist."
"The elves, you mean."
Timon grinned.
"Indeed. It's said that only elven sword singers know it. Those who have dedicated a thousand years to perfecting the art of the blade, all to wield a sword technique unbeholden to the laws of this world."
"I've heard of that as well," said Miranda, her brows furrowing more than ever. "Even elven mages speak of such a thing at times. Are you saying that was it?"
A small chuckle was her reply, followed by a casual shrug.
"Who knows? It's the pinnacle of swordsmanship. Yet even a faint mirror of it would be beyond our eyes to see. They call it … the [One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] strike, for ten thousand is the number of lives that the blade once drawn can claim in the time that a single leaf drifts down from a branch."
Miranda shook her head in disbelief.
"[One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] … even the name is preposterous. If what we saw was anything close to that, then where … how could such a young girl have learned it?"
Silence answered on everyone's behalf.
Nobody knew. But perhaps nobody was meant to.
After all, in only a short span of time, the girl had shown both prudence and strength beyond those many times her age. It was little wonder why she was a favourite amongst the receptionists, whose words carried as much weight as the guildmasters they represented.
There was no doubt that soon, even their praise wouldn't be needed.
Her name was Juliette.
And as Timon Quinsley peeked around the corner with a smile of delight to watch his charge hopping away from the fallen bugbear, he knew with absolute certainty that she would strive earnestly to raise the Adventurer's Guild to its greatest heights yet.
I think if she could hear what they were speaking about she'd deliberately turn off her ears