- Location
- Texas
So, you're saying that Guildmaster Miranda has the right to remain in silence? Anything they said could be used against her?
The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer
- Thread starter kayenano
- Start date
- Original
So, you're saying that Guildmaster Miranda has the right to remain in silence? Anything they said could be used against her?
Well, if the adventures guild wants to put itself deeper into debt with the royal family, that's on them.
Chapter 337: A Lost Soul
The cavern sparkled with the promise of crowns.
The light from my sword fought against the bright glare of luminous moonlilies growing like moss upon every surface. Even a hundred lanterns would have dimmed in comparison. The flowers lit up a carpet of dust hovering in the air like snow, yet it was the veins of silver which glowed the brightest.
They streaked across the wall like a beautiful constellation.
A starry sky which perfectly reflected my smile as I imagined rolling in the many pillows I'd be commissioning as my first purchase. I could already see it now. A pit so deep that my knights would have to learn to swim in order to retrieve me.
And if anybody asked me how deep that actually was, well–
I could simply point at this.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Before me was a quarry stretching all the way to the end of the cavern.
A sight which would cause the Miner's Guild to tremble in fear.
Unlike the quarries they made and then snoozed in while dreaming of the funds they were claiming from the Royal Treasury, this one was being dug until the sound of labour could permanently bounce from wall to wall.
More goblins than I could count did their part to exude unhealthy amounts of sweat as they ignored every health and safety regulation which wasn't explicitly written on a sign.
Pickaxes and shovels noisily worked to trigger an avalanche. Wooden platforms creaked despite the absence of any weight. Laden carts went their own way without being pushed. And the smell of ordinary goblin cooking wafted from a cauldron in order to threaten those with the least productivity.
Naturally, this was unacceptable.
As much as I enjoyed my kingdom's infrastructure being expanded upon, the fact remained that this was as illegal as any dwarven mining colony. If anybody wished to cooperate with my family, it needed to be above board. That meant a banquet more lavish than anyone could pay, promises nobody would keep and bags of gold being tossed at us at the same breathless rate as lies told by our nobility.
However, while I had my complaints, it wasn't regarding the work ethic on display.
The carts running over the feet of unobservant goblins were filled to the brim–and not all of them with soil and stone. More than once, I caught the glint of silver being deliberately hoisted away to where the shadows were thickest.
Where they were going was an issue. But one which would only be a problem for the goblins tasked with bringing them back.
Eventually.
Because right now, I had other concerns … such as staring in disbelief at the only possible thing which could draw my attention away from a crater filled with goblins.
Caban's Tavern.
Yes.
The more I looked, the more my eyes narrowed.
There, written plainly upon a lopsided sign, was an ordinary tavern.
Notched wooden walls. Crumbling stone. Window shutters which didn't fully join properly. A door which spilled out all the warmth from within. And a chimney which was even more wonky than the sign.
Three floors high if including the rooftop, it was the most mundane tavern I'd ever seen. The exact same tavern which doubtless possessed a creaking ceiling already filled with dancing mice.
And it was here.
In the bottom of a mountain.
The fact that it was so ordinary only made it even more out of place.
All the more so as the sound of hooliganism was also being emitted from within.
The sound of sporadic cackling was mixed with the noise of clinking cups. The orange glow of a hearthfire from the windows fought against the glow of the surrounding moonlilies, ensuring that every errant adventurer knew where to relax after a day of criminal enterprising.
It even had a stable.
Complete with hay … and no horses.
I simply stared.
There was nothing which could be said.
At least not by me.
Instead, both Coppelia and I slowly turned to the commoner in our midst.
His explanation came in the form of his wide mouth imitating a hungry goldfish. His eyes were somehow even wider. They stared unendingly at the sight of a tavern so commonplace that were this the streets of Marinsgarde, I'd be struggling to remember if it was the one I'd left Apple in.
After a moment, he simply nodded.
"... Wow," he said.
I waited for more.
That was it.
"Excuse me," I said, pointing at the sign. "But this is your name, yes?"
"I think so."
"I see … and how is business?"
The man blinked.
"I dunno. I never knew I owned a tavern. Damn. I actually made it. I need to tell my mother."
He paused.
"... I'm not really sure about the name, though," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "It feels a bit, I don't know … self-centered?"
"Is it?" I tilted my head in thought. "... It feels appropriate, though? If you're to establish your own enterprise, I see no reason why you shouldn't use your own name. That makes it clearer who to tax."
"Yeah … Yeah, I guess you're right."
Coppelia leaned forwards with a smile of utmost enthusiasm.
"Uwaaah~ your tiny kingdom sure knows its priorities, huh? No matter where you go, your peasants can still get drunk!"
"My kingdom isn't tiny," I duly replied. "It's as vast as the cumulonimbus clouds which often rise from Clarise's observatory. This … This is simply a measure of its popularity. To expect guests in even the most farflung of locations is proof of its burgeoning tourism industry."
"Your kingdom sure is popular with goblins, huh? It sounds like a full house."
"Yes, I suppose it does."
I sighed into my palms.
A moment later, I threw up my arms in exasperation.
"... Why is there a tavern here?! Was it necessary to build this?! If an adventurer wants to scheme in my kingdom, does it have to involve alcohol?!"
The commoner gave a small cough.
He followed it up with an apologetic shrug.
"Home sweet home, I guess."
I let out a small groan.
Then, I clenched my fists and hardened my resolve.
To walk into the midst of a common tavern was frankly worse than any cave I could explore. But while I could accept scheming, plotting and conniving, I couldn't accept this.
An illegal drinking establishment.
That's right!
How … How dare this woman flagrantly seek to evade my kingdom's laws by hiding a tavern beneath the ground!
It was utterly brazen–no, it was brazen and irresponsible!
Taverns were as profitable as they were rowdy! That meant great care needed to be considered before any new ones were built! There was a delicate ecosystem between taxes and the number of drunkards who debased my streets! Did she think I wouldn't notice the vomit just because it occurred underground? My sense of smell was so sensitive that goblins learned to wrinkle their noses from me!
"This has gone beyond anything I could have imagined," I said, frowning at the inviting façade of a common tavern. "Had I known my kingdom was so imperilled, I wouldn't have tarried for even a single crêpe … I will not stand by it!"
Coppelia hopped in joy, clapping her hands.
"Wooooo! Let's bother all the goblins who are trying to relax!"
I nodded at once.
Frankly, an adventurer running a tavern did nothing for their reputation. There was no scenario which didn't end up with everything on fire. And while that didn't usually concern me, it did if it came at the cost of the Royal Treasury.
Anybody who wished to open a tavern needed permission and more permits than they had tables. To sidestep this was the most disgraceful of crimes!
Thus, I strolled over at once.
Creaaaaaak.
A door promptly groaned as though it'd always been here. As I stepped inside, I was welcomed by an even more familiar sight.
Utter stillness.
The chatter stopped at once.
Mugs, bottles and bowls filled with brown stuff froze in hands as a common room fully occupied with goblins stared at me. The silence was complete. And no wonder. For some reason, even the unidentifiable stains on the floor were there.
That alone was worth more grief than words could offer. Yet as every pair of eyes stared at me, memories of a night I'd walked into a bar to similarly stunned fanfare flashed in my mind.
Indeed, my presence in any drinking establishment was likely to cause nothing less than stunned confusion over why I'd threaten my soles.
… Fortunately, I wasn't the same princess who'd last climbed down the oak tree outside my bedroom!
I was different now. Prettier. Wiser. Younger.
And that meant I understood subtlety.
This time … I wouldn't introduce myself!
"You." I clicked my fingers towards the nearest goblin. "I'm searching for an errant adventurer. I'm told she wears a magic hat and is now officially your leader. I'm here to remove her. Where can she be found?"
The goblin blinked at me.
He looked at the mug of frothy alcohol in his hand, sniffed it, then looked up once more.
… Seeing I was still there, he then slowly pointed at the nearby stairs.
"Thank you," I said with a warm smile. "Please enjoy your drinks."
I left the common room filled with overwhelming emotion at my gentleness behind as I swiftly made my way up the stairs, all the while Coppelia merrily waved and the commoner nodded awkwardly at every other goblin. A moment later, I swiftly climbed to the 2nd floor, pausing to see a smaller group of goblins busying themselves with arranging furniture. I pointed upstairs queryingly. They stared before slowly nodding.
And that was that.
I made my way up to the top floor of the tavern.
A moment later, I smiled as the end of this needless affair awaited me.
There she was.
The only human amidst a tavern filled with relaxing goblins.
And also a proprietor clearly waiting for her income to settle.
She stood in the middle of a floor barren of everything other than a corner sparsely furnished with a bed more narrow than a sofa, a desk rescued from a bonfire and a stool borrowed from the bar downstairs. Only a single potted fern served as decoration.
Facing a window with her back turned, she was surveying a map in her hands, blind to both our presence and the lack of amenities on this floor.
She also wore a ghastly headpiece upon her auburn hair. A band of iron that'd been stretched, bashed or chewed to such an extent it now retained value as a mocking gift.
"Is that her … ?" I asked, turning behind me.
The adventurer crouching on the stairs nodded.
"Yeah, that's her," he said quietly, his brows dented. "The lady of the hour, right there."
"Hm." I leaned forwards slightly. "She seems a bit … plain."
"Well, in Miss Harten's defence, we aren't used to being the bad guys."
"Clearly not. If she's going to insist on requisitioning a tribe of goblins to do her ill-deeds, then she needs to at least look the part. Where is the sceptre? The cloak which runs through multiple rooms? The hissing at the tired peons who aren't quite sweating enough?"
"I'm guessing that's the next stage. Which is good. We've still a chance to resolve this the right way. I've a suggestion, if I may."
"Oh? Please go ahead."
The man straightened his knees by half an inch. Determination shone in his eyes.
"Right, well, I reckon we can leave the questions for later–once Miss Harten is free of that crown. I don't want anyone to be hurt over this, least of all one of my own. Of course, the same goes for these goblins as well. So I'll try to swipe that headpiece without any of us coming to blows. I can be subtle when I want. Not quite sure what'll happen when I do, but I'm confident I can run faster than any spell at my back. And if I'm caught, well … that still means I'll have a chance to roll the conversation dice. At the very least, I'll be a distraction for you. If this goes wrong, you can either run or improvise depending on what you think is best."
I nodded.
"Ohohoho ... a bold suggestion. To take on personal risk solely to avoid harm to your princess is both valiant and appropriate. However, I've a better solution."
The man looked uncertainly at me.
I hardly saw why. He only knew me as a delicate and gentle princess. Because I was.
"... Uh, you do? What would that be?"
I pointed with Starlight Grace.
"[Spring Breeze]."
Poomph.
The effect was immediate.
Auburn hair went billowing upwards, along with a crown as the startled woman immediately stumbled forwards. She caught herself upon the edge of the window. The crown she'd worn bounced against the wall, leaving a dent before rolling harmlessly in the middle of the floor.
I smiled in satisfaction.
Why, at this distance, punting away an unwieldy crown was even easier than a caterpillar! If all I needed to do was remove it, then the lightest of breezes was more than sufficient!
Indeed, it was so simple that the woman could do nothing but stare like a lost lamb as she turned around, now happily freed from a cursed magic hat she was wholly liable for.
She was, in fact, so happy that she couldn't even keep herself together.
Literally.
Crack.
She crumbled.
Like a dry gâteau moelleux au beurre, the woman disintegrated into innumerable pieces, her attire and skin sharing the same fractures before she became nothing more than the dust around us.
Peeking their heads past me, Coppelia nodded approvingly while the commoner's jaw dropped in horror.
They weren't the only ones with a response.
"Oh, welcome to my tavern!"
We all turned as one.
There, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was a woman still very much whole and with a crown upon her head. And unlike her crumbled version, she was surrounded by a visible barrier of crackling magic.
"… Or rather, Mr. Oxwell's tavern," she continued. "My apologies, I actually hoped to keep this a surprise until later. Gosh, I didn't expect to see you leave the bar. Did you bring the kegs I asked for?"
She tilted her head and waited.
There was a youthfulness in her expression. In the brightness of her smile. The sort of faux joy carried by seasoned barmaids and con artists alike.
I barely saw it.
For despite the hue of warmth upon her cheeks, there was not a single speck to be found in her eyes.
They were as lost as carcasses washed up on a shore.
"Ah, the kegs," said the commoner, defaulting at once to an awkward smile. "You know what, I knew I was forgetting something. I must have left them just outside. In my bar. That I'm still meant to be in."
"Really? That's a pity. But I see you've brought friends instead. It's wonderful to meet you both. Can I help you, by any chance?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"That remains to be seen. Are you the adventurer I'm looking for?"
"Quite possibly. My name is Liliane Harten."
"I see ... and you're A-rank?"
"I am, yes."
I leaned in slightly closer.
Although she smiled, nothing was there. Neither recognition nor emotion. She was a husk without a soul, lost to the abyss of some unseen darkness. A vampire could have sucked out her blood to the last drop and she'd be less drained.
In that moment, all thoughts of ire departed me at once. And I was instead filled with an overwhelming sense of pity, sympathy and understanding.
My hand slowly went to my mouth.
This poor woman.
Why … just how often had she been promoted against her will as well … ?!
The light from my sword fought against the bright glare of luminous moonlilies growing like moss upon every surface. Even a hundred lanterns would have dimmed in comparison. The flowers lit up a carpet of dust hovering in the air like snow, yet it was the veins of silver which glowed the brightest.
They streaked across the wall like a beautiful constellation.
A starry sky which perfectly reflected my smile as I imagined rolling in the many pillows I'd be commissioning as my first purchase. I could already see it now. A pit so deep that my knights would have to learn to swim in order to retrieve me.
And if anybody asked me how deep that actually was, well–
I could simply point at this.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Before me was a quarry stretching all the way to the end of the cavern.
A sight which would cause the Miner's Guild to tremble in fear.
Unlike the quarries they made and then snoozed in while dreaming of the funds they were claiming from the Royal Treasury, this one was being dug until the sound of labour could permanently bounce from wall to wall.
More goblins than I could count did their part to exude unhealthy amounts of sweat as they ignored every health and safety regulation which wasn't explicitly written on a sign.
Pickaxes and shovels noisily worked to trigger an avalanche. Wooden platforms creaked despite the absence of any weight. Laden carts went their own way without being pushed. And the smell of ordinary goblin cooking wafted from a cauldron in order to threaten those with the least productivity.
Naturally, this was unacceptable.
As much as I enjoyed my kingdom's infrastructure being expanded upon, the fact remained that this was as illegal as any dwarven mining colony. If anybody wished to cooperate with my family, it needed to be above board. That meant a banquet more lavish than anyone could pay, promises nobody would keep and bags of gold being tossed at us at the same breathless rate as lies told by our nobility.
However, while I had my complaints, it wasn't regarding the work ethic on display.
The carts running over the feet of unobservant goblins were filled to the brim–and not all of them with soil and stone. More than once, I caught the glint of silver being deliberately hoisted away to where the shadows were thickest.
Where they were going was an issue. But one which would only be a problem for the goblins tasked with bringing them back.
Eventually.
Because right now, I had other concerns … such as staring in disbelief at the only possible thing which could draw my attention away from a crater filled with goblins.
Caban's Tavern.
Yes.
The more I looked, the more my eyes narrowed.
There, written plainly upon a lopsided sign, was an ordinary tavern.
Notched wooden walls. Crumbling stone. Window shutters which didn't fully join properly. A door which spilled out all the warmth from within. And a chimney which was even more wonky than the sign.
Three floors high if including the rooftop, it was the most mundane tavern I'd ever seen. The exact same tavern which doubtless possessed a creaking ceiling already filled with dancing mice.
And it was here.
In the bottom of a mountain.
The fact that it was so ordinary only made it even more out of place.
All the more so as the sound of hooliganism was also being emitted from within.
The sound of sporadic cackling was mixed with the noise of clinking cups. The orange glow of a hearthfire from the windows fought against the glow of the surrounding moonlilies, ensuring that every errant adventurer knew where to relax after a day of criminal enterprising.
It even had a stable.
Complete with hay … and no horses.
I simply stared.
There was nothing which could be said.
At least not by me.
Instead, both Coppelia and I slowly turned to the commoner in our midst.
His explanation came in the form of his wide mouth imitating a hungry goldfish. His eyes were somehow even wider. They stared unendingly at the sight of a tavern so commonplace that were this the streets of Marinsgarde, I'd be struggling to remember if it was the one I'd left Apple in.
After a moment, he simply nodded.
"... Wow," he said.
I waited for more.
That was it.
"Excuse me," I said, pointing at the sign. "But this is your name, yes?"
"I think so."
"I see … and how is business?"
The man blinked.
"I dunno. I never knew I owned a tavern. Damn. I actually made it. I need to tell my mother."
He paused.
"... I'm not really sure about the name, though," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "It feels a bit, I don't know … self-centered?"
"Is it?" I tilted my head in thought. "... It feels appropriate, though? If you're to establish your own enterprise, I see no reason why you shouldn't use your own name. That makes it clearer who to tax."
"Yeah … Yeah, I guess you're right."
Coppelia leaned forwards with a smile of utmost enthusiasm.
"Uwaaah~ your tiny kingdom sure knows its priorities, huh? No matter where you go, your peasants can still get drunk!"
"My kingdom isn't tiny," I duly replied. "It's as vast as the cumulonimbus clouds which often rise from Clarise's observatory. This … This is simply a measure of its popularity. To expect guests in even the most farflung of locations is proof of its burgeoning tourism industry."
"Your kingdom sure is popular with goblins, huh? It sounds like a full house."
"Yes, I suppose it does."
I sighed into my palms.
A moment later, I threw up my arms in exasperation.
"... Why is there a tavern here?! Was it necessary to build this?! If an adventurer wants to scheme in my kingdom, does it have to involve alcohol?!"
The commoner gave a small cough.
He followed it up with an apologetic shrug.
"Home sweet home, I guess."
I let out a small groan.
Then, I clenched my fists and hardened my resolve.
To walk into the midst of a common tavern was frankly worse than any cave I could explore. But while I could accept scheming, plotting and conniving, I couldn't accept this.
An illegal drinking establishment.
That's right!
How … How dare this woman flagrantly seek to evade my kingdom's laws by hiding a tavern beneath the ground!
It was utterly brazen–no, it was brazen and irresponsible!
Taverns were as profitable as they were rowdy! That meant great care needed to be considered before any new ones were built! There was a delicate ecosystem between taxes and the number of drunkards who debased my streets! Did she think I wouldn't notice the vomit just because it occurred underground? My sense of smell was so sensitive that goblins learned to wrinkle their noses from me!
"This has gone beyond anything I could have imagined," I said, frowning at the inviting façade of a common tavern. "Had I known my kingdom was so imperilled, I wouldn't have tarried for even a single crêpe … I will not stand by it!"
Coppelia hopped in joy, clapping her hands.
"Wooooo! Let's bother all the goblins who are trying to relax!"
I nodded at once.
Frankly, an adventurer running a tavern did nothing for their reputation. There was no scenario which didn't end up with everything on fire. And while that didn't usually concern me, it did if it came at the cost of the Royal Treasury.
Anybody who wished to open a tavern needed permission and more permits than they had tables. To sidestep this was the most disgraceful of crimes!
Thus, I strolled over at once.
Creaaaaaak.
A door promptly groaned as though it'd always been here. As I stepped inside, I was welcomed by an even more familiar sight.
Utter stillness.
The chatter stopped at once.
Mugs, bottles and bowls filled with brown stuff froze in hands as a common room fully occupied with goblins stared at me. The silence was complete. And no wonder. For some reason, even the unidentifiable stains on the floor were there.
That alone was worth more grief than words could offer. Yet as every pair of eyes stared at me, memories of a night I'd walked into a bar to similarly stunned fanfare flashed in my mind.
Indeed, my presence in any drinking establishment was likely to cause nothing less than stunned confusion over why I'd threaten my soles.
… Fortunately, I wasn't the same princess who'd last climbed down the oak tree outside my bedroom!
I was different now. Prettier. Wiser. Younger.
And that meant I understood subtlety.
This time … I wouldn't introduce myself!
"You." I clicked my fingers towards the nearest goblin. "I'm searching for an errant adventurer. I'm told she wears a magic hat and is now officially your leader. I'm here to remove her. Where can she be found?"
The goblin blinked at me.
He looked at the mug of frothy alcohol in his hand, sniffed it, then looked up once more.
… Seeing I was still there, he then slowly pointed at the nearby stairs.
"Thank you," I said with a warm smile. "Please enjoy your drinks."
I left the common room filled with overwhelming emotion at my gentleness behind as I swiftly made my way up the stairs, all the while Coppelia merrily waved and the commoner nodded awkwardly at every other goblin. A moment later, I swiftly climbed to the 2nd floor, pausing to see a smaller group of goblins busying themselves with arranging furniture. I pointed upstairs queryingly. They stared before slowly nodding.
And that was that.
I made my way up to the top floor of the tavern.
A moment later, I smiled as the end of this needless affair awaited me.
There she was.
The only human amidst a tavern filled with relaxing goblins.
And also a proprietor clearly waiting for her income to settle.
She stood in the middle of a floor barren of everything other than a corner sparsely furnished with a bed more narrow than a sofa, a desk rescued from a bonfire and a stool borrowed from the bar downstairs. Only a single potted fern served as decoration.
Facing a window with her back turned, she was surveying a map in her hands, blind to both our presence and the lack of amenities on this floor.
She also wore a ghastly headpiece upon her auburn hair. A band of iron that'd been stretched, bashed or chewed to such an extent it now retained value as a mocking gift.
"Is that her … ?" I asked, turning behind me.
The adventurer crouching on the stairs nodded.
"Yeah, that's her," he said quietly, his brows dented. "The lady of the hour, right there."
"Hm." I leaned forwards slightly. "She seems a bit … plain."
"Well, in Miss Harten's defence, we aren't used to being the bad guys."
"Clearly not. If she's going to insist on requisitioning a tribe of goblins to do her ill-deeds, then she needs to at least look the part. Where is the sceptre? The cloak which runs through multiple rooms? The hissing at the tired peons who aren't quite sweating enough?"
"I'm guessing that's the next stage. Which is good. We've still a chance to resolve this the right way. I've a suggestion, if I may."
"Oh? Please go ahead."
The man straightened his knees by half an inch. Determination shone in his eyes.
"Right, well, I reckon we can leave the questions for later–once Miss Harten is free of that crown. I don't want anyone to be hurt over this, least of all one of my own. Of course, the same goes for these goblins as well. So I'll try to swipe that headpiece without any of us coming to blows. I can be subtle when I want. Not quite sure what'll happen when I do, but I'm confident I can run faster than any spell at my back. And if I'm caught, well … that still means I'll have a chance to roll the conversation dice. At the very least, I'll be a distraction for you. If this goes wrong, you can either run or improvise depending on what you think is best."
I nodded.
"Ohohoho ... a bold suggestion. To take on personal risk solely to avoid harm to your princess is both valiant and appropriate. However, I've a better solution."
The man looked uncertainly at me.
I hardly saw why. He only knew me as a delicate and gentle princess. Because I was.
"... Uh, you do? What would that be?"
I pointed with Starlight Grace.
"[Spring Breeze]."
Poomph.
The effect was immediate.
Auburn hair went billowing upwards, along with a crown as the startled woman immediately stumbled forwards. She caught herself upon the edge of the window. The crown she'd worn bounced against the wall, leaving a dent before rolling harmlessly in the middle of the floor.
I smiled in satisfaction.
Why, at this distance, punting away an unwieldy crown was even easier than a caterpillar! If all I needed to do was remove it, then the lightest of breezes was more than sufficient!
Indeed, it was so simple that the woman could do nothing but stare like a lost lamb as she turned around, now happily freed from a cursed magic hat she was wholly liable for.
She was, in fact, so happy that she couldn't even keep herself together.
Literally.
Crack.
She crumbled.
Like a dry gâteau moelleux au beurre, the woman disintegrated into innumerable pieces, her attire and skin sharing the same fractures before she became nothing more than the dust around us.
Peeking their heads past me, Coppelia nodded approvingly while the commoner's jaw dropped in horror.
They weren't the only ones with a response.
"Oh, welcome to my tavern!"
We all turned as one.
There, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was a woman still very much whole and with a crown upon her head. And unlike her crumbled version, she was surrounded by a visible barrier of crackling magic.
"… Or rather, Mr. Oxwell's tavern," she continued. "My apologies, I actually hoped to keep this a surprise until later. Gosh, I didn't expect to see you leave the bar. Did you bring the kegs I asked for?"
She tilted her head and waited.
There was a youthfulness in her expression. In the brightness of her smile. The sort of faux joy carried by seasoned barmaids and con artists alike.
I barely saw it.
For despite the hue of warmth upon her cheeks, there was not a single speck to be found in her eyes.
They were as lost as carcasses washed up on a shore.
"Ah, the kegs," said the commoner, defaulting at once to an awkward smile. "You know what, I knew I was forgetting something. I must have left them just outside. In my bar. That I'm still meant to be in."
"Really? That's a pity. But I see you've brought friends instead. It's wonderful to meet you both. Can I help you, by any chance?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"That remains to be seen. Are you the adventurer I'm looking for?"
"Quite possibly. My name is Liliane Harten."
"I see ... and you're A-rank?"
"I am, yes."
I leaned in slightly closer.
Although she smiled, nothing was there. Neither recognition nor emotion. She was a husk without a soul, lost to the abyss of some unseen darkness. A vampire could have sucked out her blood to the last drop and she'd be less drained.
In that moment, all thoughts of ire departed me at once. And I was instead filled with an overwhelming sense of pity, sympathy and understanding.
My hand slowly went to my mouth.
This poor woman.
Why … just how often had she been promoted against her will as well … ?!
Last edited:
- Location
- Argentina
I thought she was an expert in cursed objects?
She isn't an expert. But if there's a common theme with mages, it's overestimating themselves.
- Location
- Argentina
I was talking about the Princess.
In that case she is an expert in all things! How she handles them depends on her mood!
- Location
- Argentina
Everyone else "That's a cursed crown".
Said to the princess face, several times.
The Princess "Oh she must have been promoted too many times!"
Chapter 338: A Crown’s Worth
A tavern filled with wide-eyed goblins stared.
In the middle of a common room so true to life that every corner was indistinguishable from the bar itself, a table was currently occupied by a princess, a clockwork doll and a pair of adventurers.
Amidst the silence, a single cough sounded before it was hurriedly covered. A tiny clink was heard as a tankard was lowered by the arm straining to hold it aloft. And the world's smallest sip filled the air as a goblin dared to enjoy his beverage before the last of the foam died away.
None else dared to disturb the silence.
The only movement came from those at the table.
Coppelia leaned down to sniff at the surface of her drink. She smiled warmly, then slowly pushed it away with her pinky towards the commoner sitting across from her.
A moment later, she proceeded to exchange it with the fruit cordial clasped between his hands.
The man in question made no complaint, his eyes wider and lips more pursed than any of the observing goblins as he diligently avoided eye contact with his smiling colleague sitting next to him. Instead, he focused all his attention on an orange, black and white cat as it stalked the legs of everyone present.
The woman with auburn hair wasn't fussed. She instead busied herself with slowly downing a glass of wine drawn from the same kegs that the ales came from.
All the while … I simply stared.
Directly in her face.
Leaning across the table while ignoring Coppelia exchanging cordials under my tummy, I narrowed my eyes as I studiously assessed the smile in front of me.
Eerie and devoid of emotion.
It was a smile I saw often, usually in the corners of a soirée as the envious conspired against one another instead of their combined poverty. But this was no freshly raised baroness I found scheming in the depths of my kingdom.
It was an adventurer whose soul had clearly been stretched by the indignity of her profession.
Indeed … here was the result of someone who'd clearly harassed too many cats relaxing in trees.
If there was once hope in her eyes, it was now as far gone as chivalry in a Reitzlake alley.
Fortunately, I wasn't just a beautiful princess!
I was an extremely beautiful princess–and thus my worldly advice would light the way!
"... 26 hours," I declared to the woman with the empty smile.
In response, she tilted her head slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"26 hours. This is the amount of sleep I'm officially prescribing you. You're to sleep for 26 hours a day for a minimum of 2 … no, 3 months."
"But there's only 24 hours in a day."
"Exactly. That's how hard you need to sleep. If you wake up and you don't see goblins elbowing each other to decide who has to check your pulse, you need to return to sleep."
An impression of polite confusion met me. Like a caricature drawn by a hermit who only knew emotions through a dictionary.
Then, she glanced around her.
A cacophony of chatter, clinking cups and sliding chairs immediately filled the tavern as every goblin simultaneously busied themselves with avoiding being placed on pulse checking duty. That was understandable. It was the worst job there was.
Whichever underpaid minion was responsible for checking pulses was also responsible for telling the results. Nobody wanted to be the bearer of bad news.
After all, their employers were usually alive.
"Oh, I see. Thank you for the advice. But I'm not too sure what a prescription of 26 hours of sleep is intended to cure. Rather, I think such an amount might be actively detrimental."
"For those who lack a busy schedule, perhaps. But for anyone who decides to requisition a goblin tribe for … whatever reason I'm braced to already forget, it's the absolute minimum requirement. Have you seen yourself in a mirror recently?"
"I have, yes. Oh–and would you like a snack?"
"No, thank you."
"I want a snack," said Coppelia, raising a hand.
The woman waved towards the bar. A goblin barkeeper slowly approached, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he offered a bowl of mixed nuts. Coppelia accepted with a grateful nod, then proceeded to nibble away while watching the proceedings.
"I noticed you destroyed my [Crystal Reflection]," said the errant adventurer, setting her glass of wine down. "That didn't seem necessary. Liliane #2 was doing an excellent job in overseeing the excavation efforts."
"You should be relieved, then. I've just saved you from untold grief."
"How so?"
"As ideal as a magical duplicate might seem so that you may sleep while it sweats in your place, the laws of creation and poor humour dictates that any twin can and will inevitably take your place."
Coppelia nodded as fast as a hummingbird, all the while tossing peanuts in her mouth.
A warning to be acknowledged. If someone from the land of oddballs understood the dangers of body doubles, then so should everyone else.
That was lesson #87 in the Princess's Guidebook To Survival.
Incidentally, this woman was also failing lesson #16.
Not to wear cursed magical artifacts promising unchecked power.
"... Now, I don't care why you decided to wear a goblin's favourite magic hat," I said simply. "I care even less how that evolved into plotting your own goblin conspiracy. All I care about is that you cease and desist trying to take over the world so that historians don't need to needlessly choke from laughter. They work very hard to write a biased account in my favour and are difficult to replace."
The woman blinked at me.
"I'm not trying to take over the world."
"Excuse me?"
"That sounds appalling. I'd never do such a thing."
"... Truly?"
"Truly."
"Have you at least considered it?"
"No … why would I?"
I let out a small groan.
Just like that, any spark of interest fluttered away to the horizon of disappointment.
"... Do you see this?" I turned to Coppelia with a flick of my wrist. "This right here. This is precisely the reason adventurers are not designed to be villains. What happened to standards?"
"Mmh~ it's awful, isn't it?"
"It's worse than that. It's a travesty. This woman has a cave, a small horde of disloyal minions and a cursed magical artifact. These are the three essential building blocks of establishing an evil empire. And here she is, making them dig a hole and drink in a tavern instead."
"Evil is a talent. Not a life skill. You can't blame her."
"This is more than a lack of talent. It's a lack of effort. Who's she trying to frighten with this ridiculous scheme? Rival tavernkeepers?"
"I'm not trying to frighten tavernkeepers," said the worst evil empress on the continent, frowning ever so slightly. "I'm not trying to frighten anyone. I'm an adventurer. Not a villain."
I instantly raised a finger in the same way my mathematics tutor did.
Except unlike her, my explanation would make sense.
"That is unacceptable."
"What?"
"If you're to draw me into the depths of a cave, then your scheme must be shameless. It must be decadent. It must be a mille-feuille layered with so much cream that the cows are now on strike. This? This is a sponge cake with no strawberries, no icing and no quivering servant trying to mathematically calculate how to fit it on a table deliberately too small to accommodate it. Even this tavern undermines you. Why illegally requisition a tribe of goblins only to provide them with free snacks? It's extremely half-hearted. If you wish to be a despot, you must do it properly."
A genuine hue of indignation rose upon the woman's cheeks.
"I'm not a despot. I take my responsibilities as the human representative of this tribe extremely seriously."
"Better," I said with a click of my fingers. "Claim ignorance as you earn the ire of the goblin matriarchs. If nothing else, it will humour them. Do it enough and after 50 years, perhaps they'll take pity over the fact you decided to measure the size of your scalp using an obviously cursed crown."
The woman straightened her back. Her brows dented at once.
"The crown isn't cursed. Obviously or otherwise."
I turned to Coppelia at once. She was already humming while leaning forwards.
"Hmmmmm … it's not vomiting evil. But it's so shiny my eyes hurt. It's a really powerful artifact. I'm pretty sure it wasn't made for normal humans to wear. At least not without exploding."
"There you have it," said the woman, her clap of joy ignoring almost every word Coppelia said. "Yes, I understand this looks poor on my part, but rest assured that I'm very much not beholden to any evil thoughts. I'm only doing what is best for Marinsgarde."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I see … and is that what the ominous voice in your head told you?"
The woman paused.
"There's no ominous voice in my mind," she said, blinking.
The commoner beside me gingerly held up his hand, breaking free from the chair he was blending into.
"Right, uh … I'm actually pretty sure I've heard you speaking to someone who wasn't there before."
"Because I have nobody else to speak to. It's perfectly normal to voice my thoughts out loud."
"You have eyes like a salmon staring out of a cooking pot," pointed out Coppelia.
"My loyal handmaiden just insinuated you look like a broiling fish. What is your defence?"
"My eyes are fine," said the woman with the smallest click of her tongue. "They've simply been opened. After all, it's more than magic that the creator of this crown imparted on me. It's knowledge."
"Knowledge? Knowledge about what? … How to be laughed out of public spaces? That crown is ghastly. Why is it so bent? Was it forged by a blacksmith's hammer or the hooves of my horse?"
The errant adventurer raised her chin slightly.
"Its appearance is irrelevant. This is a crown of empowerment, crafted by an archmage of overwhelming talent."
"Well, I suppose that explains everything. Archmage of overwhelming talent rarely means archmage of overwhelming disposable income. But that's hardly a reason to be frugal. I'm certain the goblins under your thrall would have fewer complaints if the crown at least looked the part."
The world's second longest sigh met me.
The longest was reserved for my use. I had little doubt I wouldn't need to wait long.
"There are no complaints," she said, as even more goblins pretended to be busy. "Because while you might think I'm misleading the 586 goblins who follow me, this isn't a relationship of unequals. They experience the joys of moss cakes, fig smoothies and the occasional hiccup of gratitude from the people of Marinsgarde. In return, they assist in something worthy."
She gestured to a window from which the sounds of pickaxes could be heard.
"... Do you see what this is?"
"Indeed. A mine waiting to be exploited exclusively by the kingdom."
"Exactly." The woman snapped her fingers and smiled. "It's a mine. A trove of wealth waiting to be excavated. But not just iron and silver. There's treasure as well. The type which makes the relics hidden beneath Reitzlake Cathedral look like spent candles."
"My, is that so? How wonderful. I'll inform your loyal replacement of this. With that said, I'm also ready to compromise with iron and silver. I've only seen one treasure chest so far, and it had a tongue."
A knowing flash of satisfaction met my unmoved expression.
"The treasure is below. Far below. But not too far for goblins, who have seen the darkest places of the world and know how to reach them."
I didn't bother hiding my groan.
"Stop." I held up my hand, seeing at once where this was going. "Stop right there. Please don't tell me you're digging a hole into the abyss."
"I'm not."
"Good."
"I'm digging for a door into the abyss. The dwarves have an Underhall nearby."
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
"Excuse me! I've already made my thoughts regarding this clear! … Maybe not to you, but to everyone else! No digging into the unexplored darkness of the world! … Why is this a difficult concept to grasp?!"
"Maybe because not all fear the darkness."
"It's not darkness I fear! It's nameless horrors thinking they can tour my kingdom without the necessary documents! You are not a border official!"
"Well, perhaps I should be. I'm about to extend the kingdom's influence. And I intend to do that by leading an expedition–just as the greatest adventurers in our past have all done."
I immediately pointed at my face.
"... Do you see this?"
"Yes, I see this."
"Good. It's the expression I make before Coppelia begins peering into the distance. Normally, I allow the explanation, but I'm afraid this is a level of comedy too advanced for me."
The woman wrinkled her nose in a way which could cause any goblin to hop back in outrage.
"I assure you, this is serious. If it wasn't, I'd have continued as I was, crawling my way up that ladder. But while fame through simple deeds is well and good, that won't earn any tales. Adventurers are not common labourers. We are explorers. And I know firsthand that S-ranks do not flee from the monster in the wardrobe. We challenge it."
"'We'? Who is 'we'? As ridiculous as the Adventurer's Guild is, I'm certain this breaks at least one rule."
"Goblins. I intend to use goblins."
I looked at the goblins in question. A few dropped their jaws along with their drinks.
I was in full agreement.
This was appalling.
After all … I'd come all the way to the bottom of a goblin cave only for a plan so awful that adventurers trying to drink themselves sober was a better idea.
"Excuse me? … You intend to have goblins headbutting the giant triple skulled horrors underneath?"
"Not in the slightest. I'm their leader. I won't request that goblins start throwing themselves to their dooms. Only that we work together. An adventurer leading goblins into the darkness will be an immense force. It's not at all unusual to see their warbands already below. Goblins would prove better than any eager adventurer stumbling in the dark."
I nodded. And also shook my head. Both at the same time.
"Goblins, yes. You, no. You should stick to kidnapping cats. It's a more manageable prospect."
"Maybe it is. But I'm unlikely to crawl out of Thomas Lainsfont's shadow that way. And that is the least of my goals. I want more than that. Because to map the abyss is a feat which even the Snow Dancer after a hundred years of sword training wouldn't achieve."
And there it was.
Proof of lunacy.
Not in wishing to lead goblins into the cold depths of the world. But to give even a moment of consideration for that elven woman. If one was insane, then the other could only be more so.
Well, not today.
"I see." I offered a polite smile. "It seems you intend to fully stretch what a small tribe of goblins can accomplish. Yet while I'd be delighted to employ them as miners, it won't involve opening up any entrances into the depths of the world. I demand that you cease this ridiculous scheme and offer the crown to be permanently forgotten under a pile of similarly dangerous artifacts."
"That'd be cruel. This crown is no ordinary headpiece. It's the heart of this tribe. The magic which forged it is a bond which draws its members towards it. And that is a power I now wield."
I leaned forwards slightly. The errant adventurer leaned back.
"If you wanted power, you should have become a receptionist."
"... Excuse me?"
"Receptionists are considerably more frightening. And efficient. They don't need to cause diplomatic incidents to see their wicked plots come to fruition. Nor do they require any crowns bent out of shape."
"The crown is not bent out of shape. Although I understand why you'd think that. Goblins, after all, are rarely kind to the treasures they appropriate. But this wasn't a crown made by an elven or human archmage. It was made by a goblin archmage. That is incredible."
The woman tapped at her metal trinket with a fingertip.
For a moment, she even pinched the edge, threatening to lift it up as though to display it.
Instead, she adjusted and patted it down. Absolutely no difference was made.
I idly turned to those beside me.
"... By goblin archmage, she's referring to the ominous voice in her head, yes?"
"Yeah, I think so," answered the commoner.
"I bet it's speaking to her right now~" said Coppelia, swiftly downing the last of her bowl of nuts.
"There's no ominous voice," said the woman, her tone strained. "And if there was, it would not be ominous, but wise. This crown belonged to a prodigy, for it offers more than just magic. It is a crown of leadership. It imparts the ability to [Command] the most uncertain of allies to remain true–even if it means walking to the end of the abyss … or simply ensuring that visitors without an appointment can wait in the comforts of a well stocked bar."
She tapped a finger against the table.
And just like that, the sounds of a blustery tavern ceased to be.
The goblins traded looks of uncertainty as a fresh silence came over us. Even the nearby mining had stopped. Hands gripped against the handles of tankards like weapons as goblins rose from their seats, their movements stiff and lumbering.
In response, I simply nodded … all the while raising a hand to my lips.
"Ohhohohhoohoohohohohoho!!"
Stunned faces me as every goblin came to a swift halt. And why not?
Compared to the dullness spoken by an errant adventurer with more time than sense, the melody of my laughter was nothing less than food for the soul.
"My, how amusing," I said, barely covering my smile. "Yet as tempting as it is to see you singlehandedly complete the downfall of the guild, I'd rather not have my kingdom play host to a gathering of faceless horrors. That's what the royal capital's noble district is for."
The woman frowned, as much in puzzlement as sudden doubt as all the tavern remained still.
"You fear only the unknown. And that includes the magic of my crown. You know not what it can do."
"True. I've no idea what magic it holds. But I know what it doesn't. And that is authority."
"A crown is authority."
"No. A crown is a distraction. Something to be fought over by vultures while kings observe in bored amusement. Authority is independent of guises, trinkets, crowns or scepters. It is a birthright … unbending and unbreaking. And I see what you wear has already been bent."
A moment of misgiving. A whisper of hesitation.
For the briefest of seconds, a note of prudence borne of past experiences lit up in the A-rank adventurer's eyes. A sparkle of light amidst the dim irises.
And then it was gone.
"I hear an idle threat," she said, standing up from her chair. "You've few means to decline your escort. You've no means to damage this crown. No sword can harm it."
I leaned forwards, idly placing my chin against my palm.
"Ohohoho … is that what you think? Yet why would I need to damage your crown … when I can simply deny it?"
"Deny it? What do you mean? You're not a mage."
"And how fortunate I'm not. For I can see clearly that a crown is worth only as much as the one who wears it. And what I also see is an adventurer who's had far too many drinks. Rejoice. I shall begin your rehabilitation."
Snap.
I clicked my fingers.
The eyes of a mage became as wide as dinner plates as she suddenly stepped back, betraying her caution. Her hands rose, a glimmer of magic at her fingertips.
"What are you–"
"You claim these goblins as your own. Yet this is the Kingdom of Tirea. And here, I'm afraid that even the finest crown that an archmage could craft is worth less than a pebble washed up on a shore. You command nothing but what I permit. For I am a princess of the realm … and I hereby [Declare] every goblin released."
In the middle of a common room so true to life that every corner was indistinguishable from the bar itself, a table was currently occupied by a princess, a clockwork doll and a pair of adventurers.
Amidst the silence, a single cough sounded before it was hurriedly covered. A tiny clink was heard as a tankard was lowered by the arm straining to hold it aloft. And the world's smallest sip filled the air as a goblin dared to enjoy his beverage before the last of the foam died away.
None else dared to disturb the silence.
The only movement came from those at the table.
Coppelia leaned down to sniff at the surface of her drink. She smiled warmly, then slowly pushed it away with her pinky towards the commoner sitting across from her.
A moment later, she proceeded to exchange it with the fruit cordial clasped between his hands.
The man in question made no complaint, his eyes wider and lips more pursed than any of the observing goblins as he diligently avoided eye contact with his smiling colleague sitting next to him. Instead, he focused all his attention on an orange, black and white cat as it stalked the legs of everyone present.
The woman with auburn hair wasn't fussed. She instead busied herself with slowly downing a glass of wine drawn from the same kegs that the ales came from.
All the while … I simply stared.
Directly in her face.
Leaning across the table while ignoring Coppelia exchanging cordials under my tummy, I narrowed my eyes as I studiously assessed the smile in front of me.
Eerie and devoid of emotion.
It was a smile I saw often, usually in the corners of a soirée as the envious conspired against one another instead of their combined poverty. But this was no freshly raised baroness I found scheming in the depths of my kingdom.
It was an adventurer whose soul had clearly been stretched by the indignity of her profession.
Indeed … here was the result of someone who'd clearly harassed too many cats relaxing in trees.
If there was once hope in her eyes, it was now as far gone as chivalry in a Reitzlake alley.
Fortunately, I wasn't just a beautiful princess!
I was an extremely beautiful princess–and thus my worldly advice would light the way!
"... 26 hours," I declared to the woman with the empty smile.
In response, she tilted her head slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"26 hours. This is the amount of sleep I'm officially prescribing you. You're to sleep for 26 hours a day for a minimum of 2 … no, 3 months."
"But there's only 24 hours in a day."
"Exactly. That's how hard you need to sleep. If you wake up and you don't see goblins elbowing each other to decide who has to check your pulse, you need to return to sleep."
An impression of polite confusion met me. Like a caricature drawn by a hermit who only knew emotions through a dictionary.
Then, she glanced around her.
A cacophony of chatter, clinking cups and sliding chairs immediately filled the tavern as every goblin simultaneously busied themselves with avoiding being placed on pulse checking duty. That was understandable. It was the worst job there was.
Whichever underpaid minion was responsible for checking pulses was also responsible for telling the results. Nobody wanted to be the bearer of bad news.
After all, their employers were usually alive.
"Oh, I see. Thank you for the advice. But I'm not too sure what a prescription of 26 hours of sleep is intended to cure. Rather, I think such an amount might be actively detrimental."
"For those who lack a busy schedule, perhaps. But for anyone who decides to requisition a goblin tribe for … whatever reason I'm braced to already forget, it's the absolute minimum requirement. Have you seen yourself in a mirror recently?"
"I have, yes. Oh–and would you like a snack?"
"No, thank you."
"I want a snack," said Coppelia, raising a hand.
The woman waved towards the bar. A goblin barkeeper slowly approached, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he offered a bowl of mixed nuts. Coppelia accepted with a grateful nod, then proceeded to nibble away while watching the proceedings.
"I noticed you destroyed my [Crystal Reflection]," said the errant adventurer, setting her glass of wine down. "That didn't seem necessary. Liliane #2 was doing an excellent job in overseeing the excavation efforts."
"You should be relieved, then. I've just saved you from untold grief."
"How so?"
"As ideal as a magical duplicate might seem so that you may sleep while it sweats in your place, the laws of creation and poor humour dictates that any twin can and will inevitably take your place."
Coppelia nodded as fast as a hummingbird, all the while tossing peanuts in her mouth.
A warning to be acknowledged. If someone from the land of oddballs understood the dangers of body doubles, then so should everyone else.
That was lesson #87 in the Princess's Guidebook To Survival.
Incidentally, this woman was also failing lesson #16.
Not to wear cursed magical artifacts promising unchecked power.
"... Now, I don't care why you decided to wear a goblin's favourite magic hat," I said simply. "I care even less how that evolved into plotting your own goblin conspiracy. All I care about is that you cease and desist trying to take over the world so that historians don't need to needlessly choke from laughter. They work very hard to write a biased account in my favour and are difficult to replace."
The woman blinked at me.
"I'm not trying to take over the world."
"Excuse me?"
"That sounds appalling. I'd never do such a thing."
"... Truly?"
"Truly."
"Have you at least considered it?"
"No … why would I?"
I let out a small groan.
Just like that, any spark of interest fluttered away to the horizon of disappointment.
"... Do you see this?" I turned to Coppelia with a flick of my wrist. "This right here. This is precisely the reason adventurers are not designed to be villains. What happened to standards?"
"Mmh~ it's awful, isn't it?"
"It's worse than that. It's a travesty. This woman has a cave, a small horde of disloyal minions and a cursed magical artifact. These are the three essential building blocks of establishing an evil empire. And here she is, making them dig a hole and drink in a tavern instead."
"Evil is a talent. Not a life skill. You can't blame her."
"This is more than a lack of talent. It's a lack of effort. Who's she trying to frighten with this ridiculous scheme? Rival tavernkeepers?"
"I'm not trying to frighten tavernkeepers," said the worst evil empress on the continent, frowning ever so slightly. "I'm not trying to frighten anyone. I'm an adventurer. Not a villain."
I instantly raised a finger in the same way my mathematics tutor did.
Except unlike her, my explanation would make sense.
"That is unacceptable."
"What?"
"If you're to draw me into the depths of a cave, then your scheme must be shameless. It must be decadent. It must be a mille-feuille layered with so much cream that the cows are now on strike. This? This is a sponge cake with no strawberries, no icing and no quivering servant trying to mathematically calculate how to fit it on a table deliberately too small to accommodate it. Even this tavern undermines you. Why illegally requisition a tribe of goblins only to provide them with free snacks? It's extremely half-hearted. If you wish to be a despot, you must do it properly."
A genuine hue of indignation rose upon the woman's cheeks.
"I'm not a despot. I take my responsibilities as the human representative of this tribe extremely seriously."
"Better," I said with a click of my fingers. "Claim ignorance as you earn the ire of the goblin matriarchs. If nothing else, it will humour them. Do it enough and after 50 years, perhaps they'll take pity over the fact you decided to measure the size of your scalp using an obviously cursed crown."
The woman straightened her back. Her brows dented at once.
"The crown isn't cursed. Obviously or otherwise."
I turned to Coppelia at once. She was already humming while leaning forwards.
"Hmmmmm … it's not vomiting evil. But it's so shiny my eyes hurt. It's a really powerful artifact. I'm pretty sure it wasn't made for normal humans to wear. At least not without exploding."
"There you have it," said the woman, her clap of joy ignoring almost every word Coppelia said. "Yes, I understand this looks poor on my part, but rest assured that I'm very much not beholden to any evil thoughts. I'm only doing what is best for Marinsgarde."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I see … and is that what the ominous voice in your head told you?"
The woman paused.
"There's no ominous voice in my mind," she said, blinking.
The commoner beside me gingerly held up his hand, breaking free from the chair he was blending into.
"Right, uh … I'm actually pretty sure I've heard you speaking to someone who wasn't there before."
"Because I have nobody else to speak to. It's perfectly normal to voice my thoughts out loud."
"You have eyes like a salmon staring out of a cooking pot," pointed out Coppelia.
"My loyal handmaiden just insinuated you look like a broiling fish. What is your defence?"
"My eyes are fine," said the woman with the smallest click of her tongue. "They've simply been opened. After all, it's more than magic that the creator of this crown imparted on me. It's knowledge."
"Knowledge? Knowledge about what? … How to be laughed out of public spaces? That crown is ghastly. Why is it so bent? Was it forged by a blacksmith's hammer or the hooves of my horse?"
The errant adventurer raised her chin slightly.
"Its appearance is irrelevant. This is a crown of empowerment, crafted by an archmage of overwhelming talent."
"Well, I suppose that explains everything. Archmage of overwhelming talent rarely means archmage of overwhelming disposable income. But that's hardly a reason to be frugal. I'm certain the goblins under your thrall would have fewer complaints if the crown at least looked the part."
The world's second longest sigh met me.
The longest was reserved for my use. I had little doubt I wouldn't need to wait long.
"There are no complaints," she said, as even more goblins pretended to be busy. "Because while you might think I'm misleading the 586 goblins who follow me, this isn't a relationship of unequals. They experience the joys of moss cakes, fig smoothies and the occasional hiccup of gratitude from the people of Marinsgarde. In return, they assist in something worthy."
She gestured to a window from which the sounds of pickaxes could be heard.
"... Do you see what this is?"
"Indeed. A mine waiting to be exploited exclusively by the kingdom."
"Exactly." The woman snapped her fingers and smiled. "It's a mine. A trove of wealth waiting to be excavated. But not just iron and silver. There's treasure as well. The type which makes the relics hidden beneath Reitzlake Cathedral look like spent candles."
"My, is that so? How wonderful. I'll inform your loyal replacement of this. With that said, I'm also ready to compromise with iron and silver. I've only seen one treasure chest so far, and it had a tongue."
A knowing flash of satisfaction met my unmoved expression.
"The treasure is below. Far below. But not too far for goblins, who have seen the darkest places of the world and know how to reach them."
I didn't bother hiding my groan.
"Stop." I held up my hand, seeing at once where this was going. "Stop right there. Please don't tell me you're digging a hole into the abyss."
"I'm not."
"Good."
"I'm digging for a door into the abyss. The dwarves have an Underhall nearby."
I threw up my arms in exasperation.
"Excuse me! I've already made my thoughts regarding this clear! … Maybe not to you, but to everyone else! No digging into the unexplored darkness of the world! … Why is this a difficult concept to grasp?!"
"Maybe because not all fear the darkness."
"It's not darkness I fear! It's nameless horrors thinking they can tour my kingdom without the necessary documents! You are not a border official!"
"Well, perhaps I should be. I'm about to extend the kingdom's influence. And I intend to do that by leading an expedition–just as the greatest adventurers in our past have all done."
I immediately pointed at my face.
"... Do you see this?"
"Yes, I see this."
"Good. It's the expression I make before Coppelia begins peering into the distance. Normally, I allow the explanation, but I'm afraid this is a level of comedy too advanced for me."
The woman wrinkled her nose in a way which could cause any goblin to hop back in outrage.
"I assure you, this is serious. If it wasn't, I'd have continued as I was, crawling my way up that ladder. But while fame through simple deeds is well and good, that won't earn any tales. Adventurers are not common labourers. We are explorers. And I know firsthand that S-ranks do not flee from the monster in the wardrobe. We challenge it."
"'We'? Who is 'we'? As ridiculous as the Adventurer's Guild is, I'm certain this breaks at least one rule."
"Goblins. I intend to use goblins."
I looked at the goblins in question. A few dropped their jaws along with their drinks.
I was in full agreement.
This was appalling.
After all … I'd come all the way to the bottom of a goblin cave only for a plan so awful that adventurers trying to drink themselves sober was a better idea.
"Excuse me? … You intend to have goblins headbutting the giant triple skulled horrors underneath?"
"Not in the slightest. I'm their leader. I won't request that goblins start throwing themselves to their dooms. Only that we work together. An adventurer leading goblins into the darkness will be an immense force. It's not at all unusual to see their warbands already below. Goblins would prove better than any eager adventurer stumbling in the dark."
I nodded. And also shook my head. Both at the same time.
"Goblins, yes. You, no. You should stick to kidnapping cats. It's a more manageable prospect."
"Maybe it is. But I'm unlikely to crawl out of Thomas Lainsfont's shadow that way. And that is the least of my goals. I want more than that. Because to map the abyss is a feat which even the Snow Dancer after a hundred years of sword training wouldn't achieve."
And there it was.
Proof of lunacy.
Not in wishing to lead goblins into the cold depths of the world. But to give even a moment of consideration for that elven woman. If one was insane, then the other could only be more so.
Well, not today.
"I see." I offered a polite smile. "It seems you intend to fully stretch what a small tribe of goblins can accomplish. Yet while I'd be delighted to employ them as miners, it won't involve opening up any entrances into the depths of the world. I demand that you cease this ridiculous scheme and offer the crown to be permanently forgotten under a pile of similarly dangerous artifacts."
"That'd be cruel. This crown is no ordinary headpiece. It's the heart of this tribe. The magic which forged it is a bond which draws its members towards it. And that is a power I now wield."
I leaned forwards slightly. The errant adventurer leaned back.
"If you wanted power, you should have become a receptionist."
"... Excuse me?"
"Receptionists are considerably more frightening. And efficient. They don't need to cause diplomatic incidents to see their wicked plots come to fruition. Nor do they require any crowns bent out of shape."
"The crown is not bent out of shape. Although I understand why you'd think that. Goblins, after all, are rarely kind to the treasures they appropriate. But this wasn't a crown made by an elven or human archmage. It was made by a goblin archmage. That is incredible."
The woman tapped at her metal trinket with a fingertip.
For a moment, she even pinched the edge, threatening to lift it up as though to display it.
Instead, she adjusted and patted it down. Absolutely no difference was made.
I idly turned to those beside me.
"... By goblin archmage, she's referring to the ominous voice in her head, yes?"
"Yeah, I think so," answered the commoner.
"I bet it's speaking to her right now~" said Coppelia, swiftly downing the last of her bowl of nuts.
"There's no ominous voice," said the woman, her tone strained. "And if there was, it would not be ominous, but wise. This crown belonged to a prodigy, for it offers more than just magic. It is a crown of leadership. It imparts the ability to [Command] the most uncertain of allies to remain true–even if it means walking to the end of the abyss … or simply ensuring that visitors without an appointment can wait in the comforts of a well stocked bar."
She tapped a finger against the table.
And just like that, the sounds of a blustery tavern ceased to be.
The goblins traded looks of uncertainty as a fresh silence came over us. Even the nearby mining had stopped. Hands gripped against the handles of tankards like weapons as goblins rose from their seats, their movements stiff and lumbering.
In response, I simply nodded … all the while raising a hand to my lips.
"Ohhohohhoohoohohohohoho!!"
Stunned faces me as every goblin came to a swift halt. And why not?
Compared to the dullness spoken by an errant adventurer with more time than sense, the melody of my laughter was nothing less than food for the soul.
"My, how amusing," I said, barely covering my smile. "Yet as tempting as it is to see you singlehandedly complete the downfall of the guild, I'd rather not have my kingdom play host to a gathering of faceless horrors. That's what the royal capital's noble district is for."
The woman frowned, as much in puzzlement as sudden doubt as all the tavern remained still.
"You fear only the unknown. And that includes the magic of my crown. You know not what it can do."
"True. I've no idea what magic it holds. But I know what it doesn't. And that is authority."
"A crown is authority."
"No. A crown is a distraction. Something to be fought over by vultures while kings observe in bored amusement. Authority is independent of guises, trinkets, crowns or scepters. It is a birthright … unbending and unbreaking. And I see what you wear has already been bent."
A moment of misgiving. A whisper of hesitation.
For the briefest of seconds, a note of prudence borne of past experiences lit up in the A-rank adventurer's eyes. A sparkle of light amidst the dim irises.
And then it was gone.
"I hear an idle threat," she said, standing up from her chair. "You've few means to decline your escort. You've no means to damage this crown. No sword can harm it."
I leaned forwards, idly placing my chin against my palm.
"Ohohoho … is that what you think? Yet why would I need to damage your crown … when I can simply deny it?"
"Deny it? What do you mean? You're not a mage."
"And how fortunate I'm not. For I can see clearly that a crown is worth only as much as the one who wears it. And what I also see is an adventurer who's had far too many drinks. Rejoice. I shall begin your rehabilitation."
Snap.
I clicked my fingers.
The eyes of a mage became as wide as dinner plates as she suddenly stepped back, betraying her caution. Her hands rose, a glimmer of magic at her fingertips.
"What are you–"
"You claim these goblins as your own. Yet this is the Kingdom of Tirea. And here, I'm afraid that even the finest crown that an archmage could craft is worth less than a pebble washed up on a shore. You command nothing but what I permit. For I am a princess of the realm … and I hereby [Declare] every goblin released."
Last edited:
I particularly like how the Princess approached this. She led this person in possession of a magic crown on, before delivering one of her finest cackles and driving home that despite how many goblins may be under the other's command it does not stand to commit to the next item of business nearly as well as Contzen's tumbly start turned well-traveled, capable adventuring mind.
Chapter 339: Tremors In The Dark
The goblins jolted as though freshly woken from a nap.
And that was that.
A moment later, all I saw was a stampede of rushing feet, nudging elbows and jabbing fingers. A cacophony of joy and grunts as a tavern emptied itself faster than news that an identical tavern with slightly stickier and more authentic floors had opened up just next door.
I wore a bright smile as I sat upon a table.
Not because a dozen elbows brushing past my shoulder was the most harrowing thing I'd ever experienced, but simply because I wished for a better view … and also because Coppelia and the commoner had already seized the area behind the bar for themselves.
Thus, I sat cradling my knees, satisfied with my work–and also my island fortress amidst the rampant fleeing.
"Move, you butterheads! Faster, faster!"
"Hurry! Before the humans blow us all up!"
"Free! I'm freeeeeeeee!"
"Grab the stuff we're not meant to talk about!"
"Hey! I called dibs on the snacks! Hiss!"
Yes.
Delight truly was expressed in many different ways.
For these goblins, it was for their tankards and safety helmets to be tossed to the side with the disdain they deserved, followed by a rush of scurrying feet as they bolted like deers startled in a forest.
Through a door permanently swinging open, I watched as goblins turned into a hundred tiny dust clouds, their soles kicking up more dirt than any amount of shovels could accomplish.
Then, I nodded in satisfaction.
Ohhohohohoho!
Indeed, just as I could break even the most virulent of curses, so too could I melt the shackles of any discount crown of miscellaneous power!
This was true on any given day, but even more so when it was wielded by a schemer so unsuited to her role that she didn't even know the first rule of survival–
Always assume the lowest paid would flee.
It was a lesson long overdue. As were many more. Because as a bedraggled adventurer rose from the floor, it was more than her attire which now boasted innumerable creases. It was also her face, crinkled in an expression of outrage and horror.
I didn't blame her.
Despite having been knocked over by the force of her fleeing goblins, that dull crown remained firmly affixed to her head.
"You … You broke my concentration! How did you do that?!"
I gave a flick of my hair … all the while regally shuffling off the table.
"How? Why, I simply broke the magic using my superior willpower, of course."
The woman tightly clenched her fists.
Sadly, far from rejoicing as the goblins did, she merely looked unstable.
More so, that is.
"That wasn't willpower! … That was … You … You clicked your fingers!"
"Yes, I did." I brushed down my skirt as I avoided standing in any puddles. The most difficult ask here. "And as I said, superior willpower."
"That … That shouldn't have been enough!"
"Incorrect. That was far too much on my part. I overestimated your acumen."
The woman threw up her arms in disbelief.
"You overestimated me? I am an A-rank mage! You clicking your fingers shouldn't be enough to break the spell of command! What … What did you do?!"
"I clicked my fingers. Just as you noted. But I could also have lightly coughed. Or perhaps flicked a glass of wine over you. That'd be churlish, of course, but the result would still be the same in every scenario I mildly startle you."
"My magic–"
"Your magic is irrelevant. Perhaps you're a capable mage. But you're most certainly a terrible villain."
"I'm not a villain!"
"Exactly. It doesn't matter what magic you use to command the wills of others. If your heart simply isn't in it, then you can't do so much as lure a tabby cat towards you. Health and safety policies do not exist in the realm of evildoers. Half measures will never be respected. Frankly, I'm astonished the goblins even endured your lack of nefariousness for so long. Their standards are usually better. Perhaps the free snacks and beverages truly were useful."
The woman's mouth widened. Even so, not a single rebuttal came out.
After all, I was a princess, and I spoke only the truth. Both because this was legally enshrined in my diary and because I actually was.
I pointed towards the bent crown atop her head.
"Fortunately, you can use this as your defence once the goblin matriarchs come knocking on your door. You're hardly blameless, of course, but it's clear you're as suited for wearing cursed artifacts as a garden squirrel. And goodness knows they've tried. You may therefore rejoice. Now that your … plan is quite literally fleeing from you, there's no reason why you cannot relinquish that band of scrap metal."
I offered an angelic smile as I held out my palm.
This was extremely generous. Usually, even a tiara encrusted with golden peridots which didn't quite glimmer the way I wanted only made it as far as the heap outside my bedroom window. To willingly accept something so ghastly was a deep sacrifice on my part.
I patiently waited.
Instead, the woman's hands shot up to tightly hold onto her dull crown. Like a child with a toy.
"No."
I rolled my eyes.
"Please, this is embarrassing. And also needless. I'm a busy princess and have places to be."
"That's clearly a lie."
"... Hm? What's a lie?"
"You being a princess."
"Excuse me?"
"I've seen both Princess Florella and Princess Claris. You are neither."
My mouth widened in horror.
Why … here I was, my royal aura unmasked, and still this supposed A-rank adventurer couldn't recognise me! Just how blinding was that artifact she wore?!
"There are three princesses!" I said, helpfully pointing towards my own cheeks. "If you've seen two, who does that leave?!"
The woman paused.
The ire upon her face didn't lessen. Instead, it was added to by a crease of contemplation.
A crease which only continued as she foraged in the back of her mind.
I was aghast.
"Excuse me?! Did that crown suck up your memories too?! Why do you have to think so hard?! Do you require the first letter?!"
A moment of silence passed.
"Yes," said the woman shamelessly. "But it doesn't matter. You're still not a princess."
I gasped, stepping back against the mental assault.
S-Such a powerful attack!
"What … What do you mean I'm not a princess?! Look at me! I'm so beautiful I singlehandedly raise the national median!"
"There's no scenario in which a princess would be found wandering in a goblin cave."
A small pause.
"... True," I said with a nod. "Which is why I was never here. But until your further memory loss, know that as a very real princess, I take personal interest in reminding wayward adventurers of their obligations not to conduct vain quests at the expense of my kingdom."
"This isn't a vain quest. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
"Yes, I suppose you'd be causing a diplomatic incident elsewhere. And I wouldn't be able to ignore that one, either. Even if I pretend to know nothing about this debacle, so long as there are goblins coming to complain about your actions, my farmers will continue to sell them fig smoothies and moss cakes instead of working the fields. Apparently, that's far more profitable."
The woman grimaced.
"Everyone was to benefit from the treasures excavated from below."
"Including the very hungry horrors, I take it?"
"The horrors would have been contained. That's what the castle is for."
I groaned, having now been reminded of the abomination waiting above. The woman's cheeks turned the smallest shade of crimson.
"It's a work-in-progress," she claimed. "All of which you've now delayed. Do you think planning these things comes naturally to me? Have you any idea how above my comfort zone I've had to be in order to lead a goblin tribe? How long I've had to spend on this?"
"Yes, 5 minutes. All of it spent on pushing reason off a foggy cliff. But I suppose that wasn't you, but the ominous voice in your head."
"There is no ominous voice."
I leaned in slightly, my eyes narrowing.
"In that case, remove the obviously cursed crown from your brow. I won't even ask for it. If you can lift it away, you may keep it."
The woman stared.
Then, seeing my earnestness, she wrinkled her nose … just before her hands very gently went to lift away the chunk of tin.
"There's nothing cursed about this crown," she insisted, as not a single inch began to separate between said crown and her scalp. "It's a tool, nothing more."
I raised an eyebrow as I waited.
"... Well? Are you going to remove the tool? It only needs to be for a second."
She pursed her lips.
A moment later, she swallowed a dry gulp, her every muscle seemingly rebelling at the thought of lifting away a chunk of tin which was apparently now permanently sealed to her head.
Given the way her brows dented, this was now something she realised was an issue.
With her cheeks straining from effort, she pinched the very edges of the crown with her fingertips and very slowly began to pry. A single strand of hair was disturbed as it threatened to lift from her scalp. Her hands quivered noticeably.
And then–
"No."
The crown glowed as it spoke.
As its simple rebuttal echoed throughout the tavern, I merely placed my hands upon my hips, offering my judging glare to a woman whose face was paling faster than an entire family of peckish vampires could drain.
She gulped.
"That … That was me …"
Her hands immediately resumed lifting away the crown.
She failed.
BwwruUummMmMmmMmm.
Because the next moment–everything began to tremble along with her hands.
"Aah?!"
Suddenly, she lunged forwards and grabbed hold of the table as the walls, ceiling and floorboards of the tavern groaned. As did the rest of the cavern.
Beyond the windows and the open doorway, small bits of rubble came raining down, adding to the sudden chaos as bottles, tankards and entire kegs violently spun and rolled around us.
Somewhere, I heard a commoner give a yelp as he sheltered behind the counter. Coppelia took the opportunity to step over him and rescued the falling bowls of snacks. I, meanwhile, held out my arms and balanced myself, this not being the first I experienced the results of someone else's poor planning.
Which was good.
Because it only became worse.
BwwWRrruUummmMmmMmMmmMmm.
Through the window, I watched as the cavern crumbled and the very walls tore asunder. Whole plumes of dust rose like a smoking ashland as the stone sky began to fall.
But that didn't mean it was destined to reach the ground.
Far from it … the ground rose to meet the sky.
The stone gathered like leaves drawn to a gale. But it wasn't a whistle which sounded throughout the cavern.
It was a groan.
And it came from a rising silhouette.
And that was that.
A moment later, all I saw was a stampede of rushing feet, nudging elbows and jabbing fingers. A cacophony of joy and grunts as a tavern emptied itself faster than news that an identical tavern with slightly stickier and more authentic floors had opened up just next door.
I wore a bright smile as I sat upon a table.
Not because a dozen elbows brushing past my shoulder was the most harrowing thing I'd ever experienced, but simply because I wished for a better view … and also because Coppelia and the commoner had already seized the area behind the bar for themselves.
Thus, I sat cradling my knees, satisfied with my work–and also my island fortress amidst the rampant fleeing.
"Move, you butterheads! Faster, faster!"
"Hurry! Before the humans blow us all up!"
"Free! I'm freeeeeeeee!"
"Grab the stuff we're not meant to talk about!"
"Hey! I called dibs on the snacks! Hiss!"
Yes.
Delight truly was expressed in many different ways.
For these goblins, it was for their tankards and safety helmets to be tossed to the side with the disdain they deserved, followed by a rush of scurrying feet as they bolted like deers startled in a forest.
Through a door permanently swinging open, I watched as goblins turned into a hundred tiny dust clouds, their soles kicking up more dirt than any amount of shovels could accomplish.
Then, I nodded in satisfaction.
Ohhohohohoho!
Indeed, just as I could break even the most virulent of curses, so too could I melt the shackles of any discount crown of miscellaneous power!
This was true on any given day, but even more so when it was wielded by a schemer so unsuited to her role that she didn't even know the first rule of survival–
Always assume the lowest paid would flee.
It was a lesson long overdue. As were many more. Because as a bedraggled adventurer rose from the floor, it was more than her attire which now boasted innumerable creases. It was also her face, crinkled in an expression of outrage and horror.
I didn't blame her.
Despite having been knocked over by the force of her fleeing goblins, that dull crown remained firmly affixed to her head.
"You … You broke my concentration! How did you do that?!"
I gave a flick of my hair … all the while regally shuffling off the table.
"How? Why, I simply broke the magic using my superior willpower, of course."
The woman tightly clenched her fists.
Sadly, far from rejoicing as the goblins did, she merely looked unstable.
More so, that is.
"That wasn't willpower! … That was … You … You clicked your fingers!"
"Yes, I did." I brushed down my skirt as I avoided standing in any puddles. The most difficult ask here. "And as I said, superior willpower."
"That … That shouldn't have been enough!"
"Incorrect. That was far too much on my part. I overestimated your acumen."
The woman threw up her arms in disbelief.
"You overestimated me? I am an A-rank mage! You clicking your fingers shouldn't be enough to break the spell of command! What … What did you do?!"
"I clicked my fingers. Just as you noted. But I could also have lightly coughed. Or perhaps flicked a glass of wine over you. That'd be churlish, of course, but the result would still be the same in every scenario I mildly startle you."
"My magic–"
"Your magic is irrelevant. Perhaps you're a capable mage. But you're most certainly a terrible villain."
"I'm not a villain!"
"Exactly. It doesn't matter what magic you use to command the wills of others. If your heart simply isn't in it, then you can't do so much as lure a tabby cat towards you. Health and safety policies do not exist in the realm of evildoers. Half measures will never be respected. Frankly, I'm astonished the goblins even endured your lack of nefariousness for so long. Their standards are usually better. Perhaps the free snacks and beverages truly were useful."
The woman's mouth widened. Even so, not a single rebuttal came out.
After all, I was a princess, and I spoke only the truth. Both because this was legally enshrined in my diary and because I actually was.
I pointed towards the bent crown atop her head.
"Fortunately, you can use this as your defence once the goblin matriarchs come knocking on your door. You're hardly blameless, of course, but it's clear you're as suited for wearing cursed artifacts as a garden squirrel. And goodness knows they've tried. You may therefore rejoice. Now that your … plan is quite literally fleeing from you, there's no reason why you cannot relinquish that band of scrap metal."
I offered an angelic smile as I held out my palm.
This was extremely generous. Usually, even a tiara encrusted with golden peridots which didn't quite glimmer the way I wanted only made it as far as the heap outside my bedroom window. To willingly accept something so ghastly was a deep sacrifice on my part.
I patiently waited.
Instead, the woman's hands shot up to tightly hold onto her dull crown. Like a child with a toy.
"No."
I rolled my eyes.
"Please, this is embarrassing. And also needless. I'm a busy princess and have places to be."
"That's clearly a lie."
"... Hm? What's a lie?"
"You being a princess."
"Excuse me?"
"I've seen both Princess Florella and Princess Claris. You are neither."
My mouth widened in horror.
Why … here I was, my royal aura unmasked, and still this supposed A-rank adventurer couldn't recognise me! Just how blinding was that artifact she wore?!
"There are three princesses!" I said, helpfully pointing towards my own cheeks. "If you've seen two, who does that leave?!"
The woman paused.
The ire upon her face didn't lessen. Instead, it was added to by a crease of contemplation.
A crease which only continued as she foraged in the back of her mind.
I was aghast.
"Excuse me?! Did that crown suck up your memories too?! Why do you have to think so hard?! Do you require the first letter?!"
A moment of silence passed.
"Yes," said the woman shamelessly. "But it doesn't matter. You're still not a princess."
I gasped, stepping back against the mental assault.
S-Such a powerful attack!
"What … What do you mean I'm not a princess?! Look at me! I'm so beautiful I singlehandedly raise the national median!"
"There's no scenario in which a princess would be found wandering in a goblin cave."
A small pause.
"... True," I said with a nod. "Which is why I was never here. But until your further memory loss, know that as a very real princess, I take personal interest in reminding wayward adventurers of their obligations not to conduct vain quests at the expense of my kingdom."
"This isn't a vain quest. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."
"Yes, I suppose you'd be causing a diplomatic incident elsewhere. And I wouldn't be able to ignore that one, either. Even if I pretend to know nothing about this debacle, so long as there are goblins coming to complain about your actions, my farmers will continue to sell them fig smoothies and moss cakes instead of working the fields. Apparently, that's far more profitable."
The woman grimaced.
"Everyone was to benefit from the treasures excavated from below."
"Including the very hungry horrors, I take it?"
"The horrors would have been contained. That's what the castle is for."
I groaned, having now been reminded of the abomination waiting above. The woman's cheeks turned the smallest shade of crimson.
"It's a work-in-progress," she claimed. "All of which you've now delayed. Do you think planning these things comes naturally to me? Have you any idea how above my comfort zone I've had to be in order to lead a goblin tribe? How long I've had to spend on this?"
"Yes, 5 minutes. All of it spent on pushing reason off a foggy cliff. But I suppose that wasn't you, but the ominous voice in your head."
"There is no ominous voice."
I leaned in slightly, my eyes narrowing.
"In that case, remove the obviously cursed crown from your brow. I won't even ask for it. If you can lift it away, you may keep it."
The woman stared.
Then, seeing my earnestness, she wrinkled her nose … just before her hands very gently went to lift away the chunk of tin.
"There's nothing cursed about this crown," she insisted, as not a single inch began to separate between said crown and her scalp. "It's a tool, nothing more."
I raised an eyebrow as I waited.
"... Well? Are you going to remove the tool? It only needs to be for a second."
She pursed her lips.
A moment later, she swallowed a dry gulp, her every muscle seemingly rebelling at the thought of lifting away a chunk of tin which was apparently now permanently sealed to her head.
Given the way her brows dented, this was now something she realised was an issue.
With her cheeks straining from effort, she pinched the very edges of the crown with her fingertips and very slowly began to pry. A single strand of hair was disturbed as it threatened to lift from her scalp. Her hands quivered noticeably.
And then–
"No."
The crown glowed as it spoke.
As its simple rebuttal echoed throughout the tavern, I merely placed my hands upon my hips, offering my judging glare to a woman whose face was paling faster than an entire family of peckish vampires could drain.
She gulped.
"That … That was me …"
Her hands immediately resumed lifting away the crown.
She failed.
BwwruUummMmMmmMmm.
Because the next moment–everything began to tremble along with her hands.
"Aah?!"
Suddenly, she lunged forwards and grabbed hold of the table as the walls, ceiling and floorboards of the tavern groaned. As did the rest of the cavern.
Beyond the windows and the open doorway, small bits of rubble came raining down, adding to the sudden chaos as bottles, tankards and entire kegs violently spun and rolled around us.
Somewhere, I heard a commoner give a yelp as he sheltered behind the counter. Coppelia took the opportunity to step over him and rescued the falling bowls of snacks. I, meanwhile, held out my arms and balanced myself, this not being the first I experienced the results of someone else's poor planning.
Which was good.
Because it only became worse.
BwwWRrruUummmMmmMmMmmMmm.
Through the window, I watched as the cavern crumbled and the very walls tore asunder. Whole plumes of dust rose like a smoking ashland as the stone sky began to fall.
But that didn't mean it was destined to reach the ground.
Far from it … the ground rose to meet the sky.
The stone gathered like leaves drawn to a gale. But it wasn't a whistle which sounded throughout the cavern.
It was a groan.
And it came from a rising silhouette.
Last edited:
- Location
- Argentina
Oh my, yeah this is no lizard undead or wizard undead, this is like... a bit disappointing? Even an outhouse goblin. would have used the cursed crown better.
"Outhouse? Why would a goblin use an outhouse?"
"Exactly my point."
"Outhouse? Why would a goblin use an outhouse?"
"Exactly my point."
Chapter 340: Terror Of The Depths
BwwWRrruUummmMmmMmMmmMmm.
All the world trembled as a monster rose from the very depths.
Here and there, something akin to a limb could be seen, gathering to it every shard, rock and grain of dust. Yet even as the glowing moonlilies caught in the swirl revealed the stone snapping into place, what it was supposed to resemble remained lost.
It was a mountain, a tree and something never seen.
A lumbering behemoth, both hulking and gangling. Like a dryad that had been twisted beyond recognition, then finally petrified into stone.
As it slowly came together, everything else seemed to retreat.
I held out my arms, balancing myself as the world and a freshly awoken giant attempted to test me on my ballerina lessons. Naturally, I passed. But that didn't lessen the degree my mouth widened.
Indeed, seeing the enormous construct rising before me, I could only let out a gasp.
Because amidst the slabs of dark granite covered in a film of moss and weeds were endless streaks of silver like glowing veins. But that wasn't the only thing to sparkle.
It was also the deposits of gemstones.
Even embedded into the stone, they formed a glitter so distinctive that I could have seen them in the dark. Small blushes of scarlet which drew my widened eyes more than any other treasure an earthen giant could tear from the cavern walls.
They were my favoured jewels. The same as what made up the pommel of Starlight Grace.
Rubies.
My hands covered my mouth.
Ohohohohohoho … ?!
H-How wonderful … !!
If … If we could mine rubies ... then this meant we no longer needed to import them!
Indeed, I could practically see my kingdom's wealth rising before me! The cost savings from ordering them directly to the hems of my dresses, my shoes and my bathtub instead of despairing as half the shipments were inevitably lost to banditry was astonishing!
I clapped my hands in delight … all the while doing my best not to tumble over.
Why, I'd feared that the patches of veins I'd seen were simply the scraps! To think instead that such a deposit existed was like finding an extra dollop of cream hiding beneath the spongecake!
Yes! Here was a sight to make the Miner's Guild drool as much as groan over what they had willingly abandoned! Because if they now wished to return, then I'd first be exploiting them for all they were worth … which I was going to do anyway, but now I could do it even more!
This was truly marvellous. I'd have them mining before I even left this cave.
There was just one problem.
I wasn't certain if the Miner's Guild had a ladder tall enough.
BwwWRRrrrRRuUUuuUUuMmmmMmmMmMmMmMmmMM.
Another rumbling groan filled the tavern along with bits of the ceiling and whatever beverage was dribbling from the floor above. Yet this time, the sound hadn't just come from the cavern.
It'd come from that.
"A stone titan," said a horrified voice.
Beside me, the errant adventurer was staring through the window.
Her mouth was even wider than mine. And for good reason. Seeing the earthen giant she was wholly responsible for as well as the amount of wealth sat upon it, her own crude designs for shovelling up fame and fortune from the abyss were now entirely unnecessary.
"How … How could …"
For a moment, she looked more lost than the lambs outside Marinsgarde.
Forgetting even the cursed crown still upon her head, her expression was a canvas of shock as she watched the imposing giant taking form.
But only for a moment.
The eyes which seemed so devoid of life hardened.
A spark of obstinance, of memory and experience returned for just a moment. And an A-rank adventurer moved with little more than a clenching of her teeth.
A violet light gathered in her hand as she swept towards the window, before imbuing her entire form. Her hair rose as magic like a thousand will-o-wisps surrounded her.
And then she thrust out both arms.
"[Elemental Binding]!"
Her words echoed with authority, the magic bursting forth as an aurora of colours.
It enveloped the hulking figure like a ribbon snapping tight. A challenge which didn't go unheeded. The stone titan fought against the bindings, the ground rippling like waves in an ocean storm. Greater streaks of magic came forth in answer, dousing the fury in a curtain of calm.
And then … the sky ceased to fall.
The giant paused, its image now of a statue desperately in need of chiselling.
Relief lit up on the woman's face–
BBBBBBwWWWRWRrRRrruUummMMmMMMmmMmMmmMmm.
All the way until she was knocked off her feet.
She hurtled backwards, saved only from an unfortunate meeting with a wooden bar counter by a commoner who lunged over to catch her … himself helped by Coppelia who happily lifted him over. He gave a small yelp as the woman crashed into his palms, but it was nothing compared to the cry of surprise she gave.
The squall of forming rock returned in full.
In what was a shock only to herself, a mage who'd clearly never tried to control something several times her size before gasped as she sat up against the bar counter.
All the more so as the crown upon her head lit with a bright vigour.
"And now the veil lifts at last," it said, its voice hollow and distant. "For I am a secret from ages past. And though my brim may flicker and gleam, the darkness I am shall unravel the seams. I am more than just a hat—mere mortals behold. The doom you've unleashed will go untold."
The crown fell silent, but not its glowing properties.
That was now here to stay.
The woman swallowed a dry gulp, her eyes wide.
"Did … Did you hear that?"
"Of course they did. They are witless but not deaf. And so I offer my greetings—my saviours and fools. For you shall be the first to meet your end at the hands of my eternal empire. Long have my machinations settled in the shadows, waiting, brewing, unknown and unseen. A masquerade of lies and villainy, dancing amidst half-truths and soft lies. I have crossed oceans in that time. Stars as far as infinity and depths lower than the pits of devils, for my mind is a scheme without end. A thousand plots and more write themselves between my every thought. And now they are yours to behold in the dim light of your doltish eyes. You have unleashed a fate which neither the heavens nor hells can deny. Doom is your sentence. For I am the judge."
The cheeks of the mage became as pallid as a famished ghost.
"It … It doesn't always do that."
She waited for a response.
None came.
Instead, she parted her lips repeatedly as though to offer a better defence. There was none. And so a judging silence permeated the tavern, rocked occasionally by the tremors of betrayal courtesy of a bent magic crown now unmasked.
All of us stared at the cursed crown.
Then, I nodded.
"... 1/10," I declared. "The worst ominous voice I've ever heard."
"Mmh~ I agree," replied Coppelia. "It sounds like they're stuck in a drainpipe."
"A blocked drainpipe, then. But then again, I imagine being confined to a strip of tin is nothing if not detrimental to one's vocal projection."
"A strip of tin!" came the indignant and distinctly muffled voice. "I am a band of forbidden power! The sum knowledge of arcane endeavour! You will refer to me with the respect I deserve or not speak at all!"
"Very well. Coppelia, from now on we refer to this thing only as the tin hat."
"Okie~"
"Insolence." The voice tried to emit a snort. It came out as a wheeze. "I was crafted with the finest alloys available. Insults will not change that."
"Well, perhaps whoever made you should have used alloys found outside a used goblin marketplace. Either your pitch or timbre could have been saved. This is a travesty. Coppelia and I expected an ominous voice. Have you any idea how long we've patiently waited for your obvious reveal?"
"A blatant lie. This was a ruse which would blind the Goddess of Light herself."
"The only ruse is how you've betrayed our modest expectations. Your performance singlehandedly harms the image of goblins everywhere. Whether they loot my kingdom or fall prey to the magic of a tin hat, they've been nothing but professional. This is an embarrassment."
"My voice speaks with the might of an emperor!"
"It speaks with the might of a copper coin rolling into a sewer grate."
The glow from the tin hat both brightened and dimmed.
"... I've had little time for conversation practice," it said, clearly wishing to put the matter behind. It'd be denied. "Indeed, I've been waiting, watching, laughing as the undeserving have claimed me, their magic so weak they hear nothing but the faint echoes of my wisdom. A thief. A hobgoblin. A chipmunk. And more often than not, the belly of some beast. 107 years has it been since a mage worthy of my masterpiece has been found. I confess such a talent still eludes me. But what this human lacks in magic, she makes up for in malleability. She is utterly under my thrall. Even now, she cannot help but bear my weight, unable to resist the allure of—"
Clink.
A tin hat spun as it was unceremoniously tossed to the ground.
A moment later—
"[Arcane Fist]!!"
The ground fractured to the slamming of a magical fist … and also everything else to follow.
"[Guardian Blade]!! [Force Hammer!]!! [Astral Surge]!!"
For a moment, a colourful display of magic filled the air.
Drawing light applause from Coppelia and myself, every spell left an increasingly large indent on the floor until a veritable cellar had been dug. It did nothing to stop the blinking glow.
"What a surprise," came the bemused voice, now more distant and even harder to hear. "Witless and also blind. Have you not observed the splendour of my work enough? You cannot harm me even if you wasted all of what little magic you have. I am above you."
"[Ethereal Owl]!!"
A moment later, a conjured owl dived into the freshly made hole. It emerged with a tin hat clutched within its talons. And then it proceeded to spin around in circles.
Over and over again.
"Stop … Stop this at once! This does not even qualify as an attack! I gave you the means to live out your shallow fantasies! Do not think you can repay me with such a frivolous response!"
Hm.
I watched as the tin hat became increasingly irate. And then I nodded.
Practically ineffectual, but mentally wounding.
I would do the same.
"Haaah … haaah … haaah ..."
Heavily breathing, a deeply regretful adventurer doubled over as a tin hat dropped to the floor, the owl vanishing to enjoy its deserved rest. Somehow, her cheeks were simultaneously deathly pallid and scarlet as a poppy.
An intriguing subject. If I had a canvas, I'd begin painting.
She looked at the tin hat. At me, Coppelia and a gawping commoner. Then at the stone giant becoming steadily even larger beyond the window. And though the light was slow to return to her eyes, they did at least brighten.
Turning squarely towards me, she opened her mouth to speak.
And then closed it again.
It required several attempts until the first hint of a word came out.
"I ... I'm unable to bind the stone titan," she said feebly, her eyes downcast. "... My magic–"
"Your magic is worthless. You dare to think you possess even a drop of my power. That which you used so shamelessly was only ever borrowed. The stone titan is mine, woken by whispers even you cannot hear. And now under me is the great doom of your time bound. Harken to my laughter, for it is the last thing you will–what are you doing?"
I scooped up an upturned bowl of mixed nuts.
Then, I made my way over to the tin hat and covered it.
"My apologies," I said to the bowl. "But the shoddiness of your design is too distracting. I've now improved you. Please continue with your threats."
I waited.
"... You have spelled your doom," came the eventual reply. "This is but the tantrums of children who have lost a game played with no thoughts of the rules. For in allowing me to call forth a titan of the elements, I shall do more than control it. I will become it. My crowning as we're joined will be a glorious last sight for you all."
I kneeled down and poked the mixed nuts bowl. It lit up with a scornful light.
"Your ultimate plan is to be worn by a rock," I said simply.
"A stone titan is not a rock, you witless girl. It is a natural construct of the arcane. And soon it will be something new entirely. A being with the strength of a mountain and the magic of an archmage. Unprecedented. Unbreakable. Every pillar of the world will tremble—for I will be known as a demigod throughout the halls of ruined castles and broken cathedrals. I will be the Terror of the Depths."
"You shall be known as nothing but a toy buried with the other artifacts burdened with megalomania. Worry not, I'm sure I can find a place for you between the cursed mirrors and the soul sucking swords."
"Impudent child! Do not compare me with the trinkets of charlatans!"
"I don't. Otherwise I'd place you with the porcelain tea cups which when lifted are surprisingly light. They're far more impressive."
I could almost see the wrinkling nose.
"Humans," said the muffled voice, in what was clearly meant as an insult. Coppelia nodded at once. "It is not darkness which blinds you. It is your own lack of foresight. But no matter. This passing conversation is at an end. I will take from it what amusement I can. If not from your words, then your screams of agony."
BBBwwWRWRrruuuUuuUumMMmMmm.
All of a sudden … it rose.
In the centre of a crater previously filled by goblins, an avatar of rock and someone else's hubris awoke. The gale of forming stones ceased, the layers of armour completed. And a foot the shape of a great oak was lifted … before crashing down again.
Bwwooomph.
The ground crumpled like parchment as the stone giant slowly stretched its limbs, its sinews of silver ore creaking with every inch. And although it laboured to move, there was little guesswork regarding its destination.
Especially given the cackling from beneath a bowl.
"Hahahahah … you did well to release my brethren from my call. That was a scratch to my pride more deadly than any wound you could make with your paltry weapons. For I now wield the power of mountains. And in a moment, I will wield the power of magic at my very broad fingertips as well."
Bwwooooooomph.
The lumbering mass needed only a handful of steps.
A hail of dust and rubble rained against the ceiling of the tavern as it quaked its way towards us, its vast silhouette barely illuminated by the moonlilies which covered its vast frame.
And then—
Two shimmering fissures for eyes peered through the window … as it also slightly kneeled down.
A short chuckle sounded beside us.
"My congratulations, human. You were not on my vengeance list before. And while I rarely enjoy changes to my itinerary, I shall make an exception for you. Farewell. And please speak ill of me in the world beyond."
With that, a rumbling groan sounded.
The titan rose along with a granite foot. An enormous sole covered the tavern in darkness.
And so as I peered up, what met me was a premonition of the future. Of a newly excavated mine made redundant. Of towns turned to clay and mortar. Of fields blooming in springtime made dirt once again. Of peasants confused over which flattened patch was their usual home.
And worst of all … of a stunning deposit of giant rubies about to be crushed.
I could do nothing but gasp and cover my mouth.
There, embedded upon its sole was a mosaic of wealth. A catalogue of brilliant gemstones as scarlet as the roses in my orchard, ready to form a small corner in the Royal Treasury to roll in.
… Why, the thought of them being used to crush a tavern was beyond belief!
There were things in here!
Kegs of alcohol, sticky stains on the floor, bottles of leaking wine!
For so many gemstones to be pointlessly ruined was almost as improper as seeking to crush a princess!
Thus–I swept towards the window.
A point had to be made. Only I was allowed to use my sole as a weapon. For me to be the victim of such a thing was so humiliating I'd insist my end came via tripping on a wet bathroom tile.
… Fortunately, I was more than a princess!
I was a delicate and gentle princess, as confirmed by all the hours I spent rolling around an orchard.
But no orchard came with naturally springy grass and perfectly spaced begonias. That was a feat of ceaseless diligence, as much against raiding caterpillars as the sediment in the soil. Thawing and shifting with the seasons, they were nature's most durable pests.
Indeed, as a large sole laboured beneath its own size, I could see nature's work at play.
An amalgamation of all the things which happened when no care was taken in regards to landscaping or garden maintenance. Far from only seeing the dazzling rubies and the streaks of silver, I could count the individual stones.
A sight I was all too familiar with.
Thus, I raised Starlight Grace, smiled … and went to work.
"A truly awful sight," I said, nodding as I went to my tip-toes. "But nothing I can't fix, and so I shall make the jobs of my miners slightly less wearisome … Dawn breaks upon this tangled night, sweeping the vines with earthen grace. Gardening Form, 2nd Stance … [Summer Garden Trowel]!"
I reached up through the window.
And then—
Plink.
I flicked away a single, tiny stone.
Plink. Plink.
And then another. And another.
No differently than were I doing away with the unwanted bits and pieces which regularly found its way between my orchids, I efficiently flicked away using the tip of my sword.
Coppelia lifted up a bowl slightly so the tin hat could watch.
"Wait … What … What are you …"
Ohhohohohohohohoohho!!
Here it was!
A technique expertly crafted to do away with kneeling like a farmer tugging at weeds!
… And if this were my orchard, I'd already be finished.
A flick here and there as required, addressing each blemish only as I saw them.
But this wasn't my orchard. And there were more than just a few pebbles.
That's why—
Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink.
"Ohhohohoohohohohohohoho!!"
The sweet melody of my laughter filled the cavern. For the only other sound was an earthen foot as it disappeared before me one careful flick at a time.
Before my highly discerning eyes, I diligently removed every blemish, taking care to flick the rubies to one pile and any nuggets of silver into another. That foot soon became a leg. That leg became a torso. And then as the closest thing to a shocked face came tumbling down before me, I offered my brightest smile as I leaned forwards.
I plucked a single snowdrop, growing amidst a patch of moss.
A rare and unusual find in the bottom of a cavern.
As the remains of a tin hat's scheme crumbled to rest once more, its magic broken and much of its supporting limbs now absent, I turned to offer the flower for Coppelia to sample as she wished.
"Aahahaahahah … ahhahaha … aahahaahaahaha~"
I found her diligently gathering up dust on the floor instead.
She rolled to and fro, her hands on her stomach as she chose to replace my laughter with her own.
I also found a woman staring at me with a mouth so wide I could see her tonsils. A commoner gawping while searching for a tankard. A tin hat utterly dormant and silent beneath a bowl. And lastly an orange, black and white cat crawling out from under a table, looking at the scene and then wisely returning to its shelter.
I waited for Coppelia to stop.
She didn't.
… Thus, I nodded and stuffed the flower into my bottomless pouch.
She and Apple could argue for it later.
All the world trembled as a monster rose from the very depths.
Here and there, something akin to a limb could be seen, gathering to it every shard, rock and grain of dust. Yet even as the glowing moonlilies caught in the swirl revealed the stone snapping into place, what it was supposed to resemble remained lost.
It was a mountain, a tree and something never seen.
A lumbering behemoth, both hulking and gangling. Like a dryad that had been twisted beyond recognition, then finally petrified into stone.
As it slowly came together, everything else seemed to retreat.
I held out my arms, balancing myself as the world and a freshly awoken giant attempted to test me on my ballerina lessons. Naturally, I passed. But that didn't lessen the degree my mouth widened.
Indeed, seeing the enormous construct rising before me, I could only let out a gasp.
Because amidst the slabs of dark granite covered in a film of moss and weeds were endless streaks of silver like glowing veins. But that wasn't the only thing to sparkle.
It was also the deposits of gemstones.
Even embedded into the stone, they formed a glitter so distinctive that I could have seen them in the dark. Small blushes of scarlet which drew my widened eyes more than any other treasure an earthen giant could tear from the cavern walls.
They were my favoured jewels. The same as what made up the pommel of Starlight Grace.
Rubies.
My hands covered my mouth.
Ohohohohohoho … ?!
H-How wonderful … !!
If … If we could mine rubies ... then this meant we no longer needed to import them!
Indeed, I could practically see my kingdom's wealth rising before me! The cost savings from ordering them directly to the hems of my dresses, my shoes and my bathtub instead of despairing as half the shipments were inevitably lost to banditry was astonishing!
I clapped my hands in delight … all the while doing my best not to tumble over.
Why, I'd feared that the patches of veins I'd seen were simply the scraps! To think instead that such a deposit existed was like finding an extra dollop of cream hiding beneath the spongecake!
Yes! Here was a sight to make the Miner's Guild drool as much as groan over what they had willingly abandoned! Because if they now wished to return, then I'd first be exploiting them for all they were worth … which I was going to do anyway, but now I could do it even more!
This was truly marvellous. I'd have them mining before I even left this cave.
There was just one problem.
I wasn't certain if the Miner's Guild had a ladder tall enough.
BwwWRRrrrRRuUUuuUUuMmmmMmmMmMmMmMmmMM.
Another rumbling groan filled the tavern along with bits of the ceiling and whatever beverage was dribbling from the floor above. Yet this time, the sound hadn't just come from the cavern.
It'd come from that.
"A stone titan," said a horrified voice.
Beside me, the errant adventurer was staring through the window.
Her mouth was even wider than mine. And for good reason. Seeing the earthen giant she was wholly responsible for as well as the amount of wealth sat upon it, her own crude designs for shovelling up fame and fortune from the abyss were now entirely unnecessary.
"How … How could …"
For a moment, she looked more lost than the lambs outside Marinsgarde.
Forgetting even the cursed crown still upon her head, her expression was a canvas of shock as she watched the imposing giant taking form.
But only for a moment.
The eyes which seemed so devoid of life hardened.
A spark of obstinance, of memory and experience returned for just a moment. And an A-rank adventurer moved with little more than a clenching of her teeth.
A violet light gathered in her hand as she swept towards the window, before imbuing her entire form. Her hair rose as magic like a thousand will-o-wisps surrounded her.
And then she thrust out both arms.
"[Elemental Binding]!"
Her words echoed with authority, the magic bursting forth as an aurora of colours.
It enveloped the hulking figure like a ribbon snapping tight. A challenge which didn't go unheeded. The stone titan fought against the bindings, the ground rippling like waves in an ocean storm. Greater streaks of magic came forth in answer, dousing the fury in a curtain of calm.
And then … the sky ceased to fall.
The giant paused, its image now of a statue desperately in need of chiselling.
Relief lit up on the woman's face–
BBBBBBwWWWRWRrRRrruUummMMmMMMmmMmMmmMmm.
All the way until she was knocked off her feet.
She hurtled backwards, saved only from an unfortunate meeting with a wooden bar counter by a commoner who lunged over to catch her … himself helped by Coppelia who happily lifted him over. He gave a small yelp as the woman crashed into his palms, but it was nothing compared to the cry of surprise she gave.
The squall of forming rock returned in full.
In what was a shock only to herself, a mage who'd clearly never tried to control something several times her size before gasped as she sat up against the bar counter.
All the more so as the crown upon her head lit with a bright vigour.
"And now the veil lifts at last," it said, its voice hollow and distant. "For I am a secret from ages past. And though my brim may flicker and gleam, the darkness I am shall unravel the seams. I am more than just a hat—mere mortals behold. The doom you've unleashed will go untold."
The crown fell silent, but not its glowing properties.
That was now here to stay.
The woman swallowed a dry gulp, her eyes wide.
"Did … Did you hear that?"
"Of course they did. They are witless but not deaf. And so I offer my greetings—my saviours and fools. For you shall be the first to meet your end at the hands of my eternal empire. Long have my machinations settled in the shadows, waiting, brewing, unknown and unseen. A masquerade of lies and villainy, dancing amidst half-truths and soft lies. I have crossed oceans in that time. Stars as far as infinity and depths lower than the pits of devils, for my mind is a scheme without end. A thousand plots and more write themselves between my every thought. And now they are yours to behold in the dim light of your doltish eyes. You have unleashed a fate which neither the heavens nor hells can deny. Doom is your sentence. For I am the judge."
The cheeks of the mage became as pallid as a famished ghost.
"It … It doesn't always do that."
She waited for a response.
None came.
Instead, she parted her lips repeatedly as though to offer a better defence. There was none. And so a judging silence permeated the tavern, rocked occasionally by the tremors of betrayal courtesy of a bent magic crown now unmasked.
All of us stared at the cursed crown.
Then, I nodded.
"... 1/10," I declared. "The worst ominous voice I've ever heard."
"Mmh~ I agree," replied Coppelia. "It sounds like they're stuck in a drainpipe."
"A blocked drainpipe, then. But then again, I imagine being confined to a strip of tin is nothing if not detrimental to one's vocal projection."
"A strip of tin!" came the indignant and distinctly muffled voice. "I am a band of forbidden power! The sum knowledge of arcane endeavour! You will refer to me with the respect I deserve or not speak at all!"
"Very well. Coppelia, from now on we refer to this thing only as the tin hat."
"Okie~"
"Insolence." The voice tried to emit a snort. It came out as a wheeze. "I was crafted with the finest alloys available. Insults will not change that."
"Well, perhaps whoever made you should have used alloys found outside a used goblin marketplace. Either your pitch or timbre could have been saved. This is a travesty. Coppelia and I expected an ominous voice. Have you any idea how long we've patiently waited for your obvious reveal?"
"A blatant lie. This was a ruse which would blind the Goddess of Light herself."
"The only ruse is how you've betrayed our modest expectations. Your performance singlehandedly harms the image of goblins everywhere. Whether they loot my kingdom or fall prey to the magic of a tin hat, they've been nothing but professional. This is an embarrassment."
"My voice speaks with the might of an emperor!"
"It speaks with the might of a copper coin rolling into a sewer grate."
The glow from the tin hat both brightened and dimmed.
"... I've had little time for conversation practice," it said, clearly wishing to put the matter behind. It'd be denied. "Indeed, I've been waiting, watching, laughing as the undeserving have claimed me, their magic so weak they hear nothing but the faint echoes of my wisdom. A thief. A hobgoblin. A chipmunk. And more often than not, the belly of some beast. 107 years has it been since a mage worthy of my masterpiece has been found. I confess such a talent still eludes me. But what this human lacks in magic, she makes up for in malleability. She is utterly under my thrall. Even now, she cannot help but bear my weight, unable to resist the allure of—"
Clink.
A tin hat spun as it was unceremoniously tossed to the ground.
A moment later—
"[Arcane Fist]!!"
The ground fractured to the slamming of a magical fist … and also everything else to follow.
"[Guardian Blade]!! [Force Hammer!]!! [Astral Surge]!!"
For a moment, a colourful display of magic filled the air.
Drawing light applause from Coppelia and myself, every spell left an increasingly large indent on the floor until a veritable cellar had been dug. It did nothing to stop the blinking glow.
"What a surprise," came the bemused voice, now more distant and even harder to hear. "Witless and also blind. Have you not observed the splendour of my work enough? You cannot harm me even if you wasted all of what little magic you have. I am above you."
"[Ethereal Owl]!!"
A moment later, a conjured owl dived into the freshly made hole. It emerged with a tin hat clutched within its talons. And then it proceeded to spin around in circles.
Over and over again.
"Stop … Stop this at once! This does not even qualify as an attack! I gave you the means to live out your shallow fantasies! Do not think you can repay me with such a frivolous response!"
Hm.
I watched as the tin hat became increasingly irate. And then I nodded.
Practically ineffectual, but mentally wounding.
I would do the same.
"Haaah … haaah … haaah ..."
Heavily breathing, a deeply regretful adventurer doubled over as a tin hat dropped to the floor, the owl vanishing to enjoy its deserved rest. Somehow, her cheeks were simultaneously deathly pallid and scarlet as a poppy.
An intriguing subject. If I had a canvas, I'd begin painting.
She looked at the tin hat. At me, Coppelia and a gawping commoner. Then at the stone giant becoming steadily even larger beyond the window. And though the light was slow to return to her eyes, they did at least brighten.
Turning squarely towards me, she opened her mouth to speak.
And then closed it again.
It required several attempts until the first hint of a word came out.
"I ... I'm unable to bind the stone titan," she said feebly, her eyes downcast. "... My magic–"
"Your magic is worthless. You dare to think you possess even a drop of my power. That which you used so shamelessly was only ever borrowed. The stone titan is mine, woken by whispers even you cannot hear. And now under me is the great doom of your time bound. Harken to my laughter, for it is the last thing you will–what are you doing?"
I scooped up an upturned bowl of mixed nuts.
Then, I made my way over to the tin hat and covered it.
"My apologies," I said to the bowl. "But the shoddiness of your design is too distracting. I've now improved you. Please continue with your threats."
I waited.
"... You have spelled your doom," came the eventual reply. "This is but the tantrums of children who have lost a game played with no thoughts of the rules. For in allowing me to call forth a titan of the elements, I shall do more than control it. I will become it. My crowning as we're joined will be a glorious last sight for you all."
I kneeled down and poked the mixed nuts bowl. It lit up with a scornful light.
"Your ultimate plan is to be worn by a rock," I said simply.
"A stone titan is not a rock, you witless girl. It is a natural construct of the arcane. And soon it will be something new entirely. A being with the strength of a mountain and the magic of an archmage. Unprecedented. Unbreakable. Every pillar of the world will tremble—for I will be known as a demigod throughout the halls of ruined castles and broken cathedrals. I will be the Terror of the Depths."
"You shall be known as nothing but a toy buried with the other artifacts burdened with megalomania. Worry not, I'm sure I can find a place for you between the cursed mirrors and the soul sucking swords."
"Impudent child! Do not compare me with the trinkets of charlatans!"
"I don't. Otherwise I'd place you with the porcelain tea cups which when lifted are surprisingly light. They're far more impressive."
I could almost see the wrinkling nose.
"Humans," said the muffled voice, in what was clearly meant as an insult. Coppelia nodded at once. "It is not darkness which blinds you. It is your own lack of foresight. But no matter. This passing conversation is at an end. I will take from it what amusement I can. If not from your words, then your screams of agony."
BBBwwWRWRrruuuUuuUumMMmMmm.
All of a sudden … it rose.
In the centre of a crater previously filled by goblins, an avatar of rock and someone else's hubris awoke. The gale of forming stones ceased, the layers of armour completed. And a foot the shape of a great oak was lifted … before crashing down again.
Bwwooomph.
The ground crumpled like parchment as the stone giant slowly stretched its limbs, its sinews of silver ore creaking with every inch. And although it laboured to move, there was little guesswork regarding its destination.
Especially given the cackling from beneath a bowl.
"Hahahahah … you did well to release my brethren from my call. That was a scratch to my pride more deadly than any wound you could make with your paltry weapons. For I now wield the power of mountains. And in a moment, I will wield the power of magic at my very broad fingertips as well."
Bwwooooooomph.
The lumbering mass needed only a handful of steps.
A hail of dust and rubble rained against the ceiling of the tavern as it quaked its way towards us, its vast silhouette barely illuminated by the moonlilies which covered its vast frame.
And then—
Two shimmering fissures for eyes peered through the window … as it also slightly kneeled down.
A short chuckle sounded beside us.
"My congratulations, human. You were not on my vengeance list before. And while I rarely enjoy changes to my itinerary, I shall make an exception for you. Farewell. And please speak ill of me in the world beyond."
With that, a rumbling groan sounded.
The titan rose along with a granite foot. An enormous sole covered the tavern in darkness.
And so as I peered up, what met me was a premonition of the future. Of a newly excavated mine made redundant. Of towns turned to clay and mortar. Of fields blooming in springtime made dirt once again. Of peasants confused over which flattened patch was their usual home.
And worst of all … of a stunning deposit of giant rubies about to be crushed.
I could do nothing but gasp and cover my mouth.
There, embedded upon its sole was a mosaic of wealth. A catalogue of brilliant gemstones as scarlet as the roses in my orchard, ready to form a small corner in the Royal Treasury to roll in.
… Why, the thought of them being used to crush a tavern was beyond belief!
There were things in here!
Kegs of alcohol, sticky stains on the floor, bottles of leaking wine!
For so many gemstones to be pointlessly ruined was almost as improper as seeking to crush a princess!
Thus–I swept towards the window.
A point had to be made. Only I was allowed to use my sole as a weapon. For me to be the victim of such a thing was so humiliating I'd insist my end came via tripping on a wet bathroom tile.
… Fortunately, I was more than a princess!
I was a delicate and gentle princess, as confirmed by all the hours I spent rolling around an orchard.
But no orchard came with naturally springy grass and perfectly spaced begonias. That was a feat of ceaseless diligence, as much against raiding caterpillars as the sediment in the soil. Thawing and shifting with the seasons, they were nature's most durable pests.
Indeed, as a large sole laboured beneath its own size, I could see nature's work at play.
An amalgamation of all the things which happened when no care was taken in regards to landscaping or garden maintenance. Far from only seeing the dazzling rubies and the streaks of silver, I could count the individual stones.
A sight I was all too familiar with.
Thus, I raised Starlight Grace, smiled … and went to work.
"A truly awful sight," I said, nodding as I went to my tip-toes. "But nothing I can't fix, and so I shall make the jobs of my miners slightly less wearisome … Dawn breaks upon this tangled night, sweeping the vines with earthen grace. Gardening Form, 2nd Stance … [Summer Garden Trowel]!"
I reached up through the window.
And then—
Plink.
I flicked away a single, tiny stone.
Plink. Plink.
And then another. And another.
No differently than were I doing away with the unwanted bits and pieces which regularly found its way between my orchids, I efficiently flicked away using the tip of my sword.
Coppelia lifted up a bowl slightly so the tin hat could watch.
"Wait … What … What are you …"
Ohhohohohohohohoohho!!
Here it was!
A technique expertly crafted to do away with kneeling like a farmer tugging at weeds!
… And if this were my orchard, I'd already be finished.
A flick here and there as required, addressing each blemish only as I saw them.
But this wasn't my orchard. And there were more than just a few pebbles.
That's why—
Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink.
"Ohhohohoohohohohohohoho!!"
The sweet melody of my laughter filled the cavern. For the only other sound was an earthen foot as it disappeared before me one careful flick at a time.
Before my highly discerning eyes, I diligently removed every blemish, taking care to flick the rubies to one pile and any nuggets of silver into another. That foot soon became a leg. That leg became a torso. And then as the closest thing to a shocked face came tumbling down before me, I offered my brightest smile as I leaned forwards.
I plucked a single snowdrop, growing amidst a patch of moss.
A rare and unusual find in the bottom of a cavern.
As the remains of a tin hat's scheme crumbled to rest once more, its magic broken and much of its supporting limbs now absent, I turned to offer the flower for Coppelia to sample as she wished.
"Aahahaahahah … ahhahaha … aahahaahaahaha~"
I found her diligently gathering up dust on the floor instead.
She rolled to and fro, her hands on her stomach as she chose to replace my laughter with her own.
I also found a woman staring at me with a mouth so wide I could see her tonsils. A commoner gawping while searching for a tankard. A tin hat utterly dormant and silent beneath a bowl. And lastly an orange, black and white cat crawling out from under a table, looking at the scene and then wisely returning to its shelter.
I waited for Coppelia to stop.
She didn't.
… Thus, I nodded and stuffed the flower into my bottomless pouch.
She and Apple could argue for it later.
That unintentional romantic gesture is funnier while remembering the diviner having a laughing break down when she asked him how to avoid marrige lmao
- Location
- Argentina
Yeah she needs to hire a gardener.
That's like the hobbits coming back to find Saruman taking over the shire ... but even worse!!
Chapter 341: A Toast To Tomorrow
"Wow."
Timon Quinsley wasn't certain which of his fellow guildmasters said that.
All he knew was that he agreed with the sentiment.
Ordinarily, their shock would be reserved for the bar. Even with most of the bottles now rolling on the floor, the tavern they were exploring held more liquid gold than could be found behind their own drawers. Just a glance was enough to recognise some of the labels.
Currently, every bottle was at threat of disappearing.
Not because anyone was particularly thirsty. But because it was what everyone needed.
The guildmaster of Reitzlake went to the window, joined by his colleagues either side of him. As they gazed at the sight just a handful of steps away, a bottle of aged rum silently passed between them.
The cheapest and most unpalatable thing present. And also the strongest.
It still wasn't quite enough.
Before Timon was a sight which called into question the strength of his eyes. Because try as he might, he couldn't reconcile the scene he'd witnessed not long ago with the result he now saw.
A stone titan.
A sentinel of the depths, woven from stone and magic.
And now it was three neatly stacked piles of stone, silver and gemstones.
Timon was speechless. And that was a rare gift for those around him.
Stone titans were what every golem ever pieced together by a mage hoped to emulate. A dream as unlikely as a trout hoping to become a two-headed shark. Even the greatest constructs were only ever a pale imitation to what the world itself could create–as every soul here saw.
It was calamity given legs. A giant which could have wrestled with a dragon and won.
It knew no pain and feared no fire. A thing as cold and brutal as the depths from which it was made.
Its awakening was the first chapter to a tale of devastation.
… Except that the tale turned out to be as long as a synopsis, written by a sword which had again struck faster than his eyes could follow.
Even as he'd strained every fibre of his being, all he saw was a blur of shimmering light. However, rather than a heavenly strike blessed by Lady Lumielle, it was more like the gnashing teeth of a thousand ravenous hydras.
The stone titan hadn't been destroyed.
It'd been devoured.
Shredded like the letters from headquarters he used to keep his knifework active. And unlike them, he rather doubted if Mirabelle could put this thing back together.
In fact–
The only thing he'd truly caught was the smile of the girl wielding it.
Well, that and the laughter.
But Timon chose not to think about that. And very likely, neither did those beside him.
"We need more rum," said Miranda, breaking the silence while keeping the already existing bottle of rum wholly to herself. "Shall we begin searching?"
The din of silence answered.
A far cry to the cavern which had shortly ago trembled as they hid, squatting beneath the window of a tavern like a trio of burglars.
"The rum can wait," replied Mathias, as he did indeed begin searching for more rum. "What did your [Eye Of The Seeker] witness?"
"The same thing as your eyes. A stone titan about to add a tavern to its pancake collection. And then failing."
"Are you certain the girl isn't a mage? She could be a powerful one. A trained spellsword, perhaps. All I saw was a glow as the stone titan was brought down. Could that not have been offensive light magic at work? A strike imbued into her blade?"
Miranda frowned in thought.
"I'm uncertain. I believe the light was from the enchantments upon her sword. But weapon imbuement isn't a school of magic I'm overly familiar with. However … it's true that such magic is more subtle by design. An expert in channelling their magic into their sword would be difficult to detect."
"Then that's what we saw. I know of no warrior who can bring down a stone titan with a strike of pure light. This girl is a high-class mage."
Two pairs of eyes turned to Timon.
His first response was to simply chuckle.
"... Oh? And who's to say she's not both? At this point, it's not inconceivable that she's skilled in the schools of both magic and swordsmanship. Quite the fascinating one."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" said Mathias with a wrinkle of his nose.
"Of course." Timon smiled as he began lifting chairs and pulling tables in place. "After all … it isn't too often a guildmaster can claim to have royalty in their ranks."
The groans came at once.
"Can we all just acknowledge that we heard nothing?" asked Miranda. "A girl who can turn a stone titan into a pile of broken pottery is one thing. That she is a princess is an entirely unnecessary dimension of complication we do not need."
"I know nothing of what you're speaking about," declared Mathias immediately. "If in the process of observing our newest prodigy, we happened to hear a loud declaration involving the word 'princess', then that is a problem my ears weren't privy to."
"There we go. Both Mathias and myself heard nothing. What about you, Timon?"
He rolled his shoulders and smirked, revelling in the dismay of his companions as much as the satisfying click of his joints.
Little did they know, he was holding back his mirth.
Timon wanted to laugh. He wanted to bellow until the tears rolled down his face.
For he never would have expected that of all the Contzens to assume the mantle of an adventurer, it would be the youngest.
Indeed … there could be no mistake. Nor was there a lie in her words.
That was not Princess Florella or Princess Clarise. But the features were there, to be seen when she was still enough that they could be registered. The same proud face. The same regal stature. If this were Reitzlake Castle, she'd be recognised at once.
However, no blindfold was greater than that of common sense, and he'd allowed it to mislead him as much as a curtain over his head.
He was quite happy to be free of it.
"Oh my," he said with a chuckle. "It appears your hearing is worse than mine. Because I happened to hear that my most promising recruit must be … ah, Princess Juliette Contzen, I believe. Quite the rare name, no?"
Miranda frowned. Hard.
"A princess as an adventurer is not a bonus. It is an issue."
"Why so? The guild has ever been the sanctuary of both rich and poor."
"Yes. With limits. Young nobility escaping their horse riding lessons, perhaps. But not royalty. They are the leaders of nations. Having one in our ranks is extremely problematic. How does she function with the guild code hanging over her?"
"Quite well, I believe, considering the excellent work she's done so far."
"Timon—"
The man gently held up his hand.
"You've no need to fret, Miranda. I may be old, but I'm not senile. She has only been able to achieve what she has through the cloak and veil she now uses. Much of it cast accidentally by ourselves. That isn't something I'd see tossed away, even if it'd make me the most envied guildmaster across the continent. So while I did hear, I'll also not speak."
The relief was palpable.
"Good," said Mathias, the wrinkles returning as his face relaxed. "She's your adventurer, as you enjoy saying. Whatever trouble she brings, it is of no concern to us."
Timon gave a bemused chuckle.
"Now, now, it's far too early to absolve yourself. The girl's royal status aside, there's still the matter of her status as a prodigious adventurer we need to consider. Therefore, as your friend, I want you both to know that when the time comes, I'll be dragging both of you down with me."
"When what time comes?" said Miranada, her tone exasperated. "What are you planning now?"
"Nothing that isn't unexpected for me, sly fox that I am."
Whatever looks of horror they'd worn while watching a princess disassemble a stone elemental like cheddar on a grater, it was nothing compared to what they offered him.
"If you're thinking what I am—"
"There's no 'if' about it, Miranda. That's exactly what I'm thinking."
"You cannot."
"Why's that? My thoughts are quite free."
"Too free. There are rules. Rules you stretch to the point of dough turning into the thinnest gruel, yes, but rules you've yet to break … publicly, at least. This would break them. You know that."
"Hoho. Do I now?"
"This isn't a laughing matter. You've already overstepped what a guildmaster's powers commonly allow. Headquarters is already up in arms. They're looking for any excuse to remove you. There will be repercussions. Consequences. One step out of line and they'll all be down here to personally drag you from your office."
It was a warning which made Timon Quinsley grin like a young boy again.
"Good. The Kingdom of Tirea could always use more adventurers. Even those older than I am. Maybe they'll see something to jog their memories while they're here."
Despondency answered him.
But no words.
After all, he hadn't become the guildmaster of Reitzlake without the obstinacy to do things his way until it was more trouble to get rid of him than allow him to stay.
He didn't intend to break that streak now.
"What about Liliane?" asked Miranda, deliberately pivoting the topic away. "We came here for her if I recall. Do we all cross our arms and awkwardly glower at her?"
"Leave Liliane to me. I'll speak with her as the kingdom's representative guildmaster. Given the lack of a talking crown on her head, I assume she's now in a more agreeable mood."
A look of incredulity came from Mathias.
"... Are you now volunteering to actually work? Without us to help share blame if your words cause another earth elemental to rise?"
"It's the least I can do. I brought you here to help me with an A-rank mage should my fears be realised. That was always the easy part. Chastising a grown woman? Now that's far harder. I wouldn't dare saddle you with such a gruelling task. But if you wish to assist, I'd be happy to continue imposing."
A snort came from his oldest rival, friend and enemy.
"You may see out the conclusion by yourself," he said, not wasting a moment before striding away. "How glad I am to be free of A-ranks. As far as anyone is concerned, I took a small holiday from Stermondt. I was never here."
He paused for a moment, glancing at the bar. He stood still for several seconds … just before reaching over and taking a bottle of the most expensive brandy still on a rack.
Then, he was off, back to his house of mice that he called a guild branch.
"... He did enjoy this," said Miranda diplomatically, rolling down her sleeves now that her magic wasn't needed. The bottle of rum she'd held was already missing. Likely in one of those very sleeves. "A little bit, at least."
"And yourself?"
Miranda raised a brow.
"Next time, ensure you send a warning beforehand. Your luck will run out at some point."
"I shall keep that in mind, Lady Howe."
Timon offered a flamboyant dip of his head. The best impression of politeness a man of his reputation could ever offer. It earned only a roll of the eyes.
"Ensure you're not too harsh on Miss Harten," she said, turning to leave. "There will be many seeking amends. Yet whatever this was, it could've been worse. She could use at least one sympathetic voice."
Timon paused.
After all, for all his light candour, he was still first among equals. And he had a role to play.
"If the option is available," he simply said.
Miranda offered a nod.
Then, with a turn of her heels, she followed in the much swifter footsteps of the one who was likely already halfway back to Stermondt.
Timon waited until she'd left before he sucked in a deep breath of air.
A sigh with twice the amount came out.
After a moment, he slowly hobbled towards the bar, every inch of his poor gait on display as he pulled out a stool. He whacked it against the floor to do away with the worst of the dust, then sat down with his elbows upon the counter, chin resting against the back of his hands.
"... A Granholtz Sunrise, please," he said calmly. "Easy on the ice."
The maiden behind the counter smiled.
Or perhaps 'maiden' was incorrect.
She was young, certainly. Likely not much older than the princess. But the demeanours between the two couldn't be more stark. One was an adventurer who strived to dispel the darkness from the kingdom her family had sworn to defend. The other was a viper pretending to be a flower.
A lotus flower, to be exact.
"A Granholtz Sunrise," repeated the girl with mismatched eyes, one as golden as autumn leaves, one as scarlet as her smile. "Authentic ones served in the ducal capital are usually made with honey, but I do have flareberry syrup available. Do you have a preference?"
Timon shrugged.
"Dealer's choice."
The girl's smile almost threatened to look genuine.
Even if it wasn't, every adventurer in Timon's hall would doubtless fall backwards over their own heels if they saw it. A big if, despite the garishness of the maiden's uniform.
"You're more observant than your colleagues," said the Dealer, busying her hands as she willingly turned her back. "But I suppose unlike them, you were never always an adventurer. A shame. Your experience is wasted squinting at paperwork."
Timon flinched impulsively for his pair of knives. Only trained experience and a history of watching those with swifter hands suddenly lose all their fingers held him back.
"You've little to concern yourself with, then. I can barely recall what the guild's own letterhead looks like. A grand achievement for a guildmaster."
"One of many, few of which your colleagues know about. Had your path not taken a brighter turn, perhaps those careful eyes of yours wouldn't be wasted on studying the shadows for unprincipled rascals like me."
"It's not my eyes I need for that. Just my nose."
"Oh my, do you imply something boorish, Mr. Guildmaster?"
"Not at all. Only that I'm not sneezing as much as I normally do around a bar. You tidied behind the counter. It looks better than my own. A fine job."
"Thank you. I don't enjoy mysteriously loitering in a mess."
"Only the warm and balmy shadows, I suppose?"
"If only that were true. I actually prefer the sunlight. Believe it or not, I'm a morning person."
Timon gave a generous chuckle.
As he did so, his impromptu bartender expertly handled all the things the goblins had left behind. There was the sound of careful slicing upon a cutting board as she prepared various ingredients before squeezing, stirring and mixing them as required with coconut liqueur into a pair of highball glasses.
She carefully placed both upon the counter.
"A Granholtz Sunrise," said the Dealer, nudging one towards him. "Made with a drop of honey. If you asked for flareberry syrup in Granholtz, you would be outed as a traitor or a spy."
Timon reached past it and took the other one.
The Dealer made no comment. She understood, after all.
"Good thing I'm a guildmaster, then. We regularly get away with worse."
"Yourself most of all. From the way your peers speak about you, you regularly commit open murder."
"On the careers of those after my chair, perhaps. I'm on quite the villainous spree. Although slightly less than what you can boast, I imagine. It seems the easiest way for a guildmaster to earn a holiday in Granholtz is to pluck the wrong flower."
"Then fortune follows the guild. Often the wrong flower when plucked can be lethal. A holiday is a welcome reprieve."
Timon sipped his drink.
To his slight annoyance, it was very good.
"Hm." He swirled the liquid in the glass, watching as the sunrise inverted. The nod was all he needed to offer. "... And so what brings such an esteemed guest to my neck of the woods, then, Lady Dealer?"
The girl shrugged.
She flicked at the glass with a fingertip. The shape within briefly changed into the shape of a bunny.
"The usual. Subterfuge. Larceny. Trespassing. Reading people's diaries. Being up to no good."
"Should I be concerned?"
"Always. But not now. Currently, I'm just a bartender."
"I hear the world sighing in relief. Quite the odd turn your career has taken."
"True. But no more than a princess with a copper ring or a masked rogue who boasts 37 active bounties across 8 nations as a guildmaster. Would you like to try a Goblin Surprise?"
"That depends. What's a Goblin Surprise?"
"The most abhorrent thing you will ever consume. I don't recommend it."
"Well, in that case, why isn't it already before me?"
The Dealer smiled.
Then, she efficiently stirred, shook, bashed several liquids together. Timon didn't know what half the things were. Only that it'd likely knock out what remained of his hair.
He accepted it regardless.
"... You've plans for my adventurer, I take it?"
"Of course. She has my personal curiosity."
"I'm sure she's shuddering on the spot. Mind if I ask what that personal curiosity entails?"
"Only things of the most sinister and foul nature. Yourself?"
Timon Quinsley chuckled.
He offered out his glass to a toast. The girl accepted.
"Hoho … exactly the same."
Timon Quinsley wasn't certain which of his fellow guildmasters said that.
All he knew was that he agreed with the sentiment.
Ordinarily, their shock would be reserved for the bar. Even with most of the bottles now rolling on the floor, the tavern they were exploring held more liquid gold than could be found behind their own drawers. Just a glance was enough to recognise some of the labels.
Currently, every bottle was at threat of disappearing.
Not because anyone was particularly thirsty. But because it was what everyone needed.
The guildmaster of Reitzlake went to the window, joined by his colleagues either side of him. As they gazed at the sight just a handful of steps away, a bottle of aged rum silently passed between them.
The cheapest and most unpalatable thing present. And also the strongest.
It still wasn't quite enough.
Before Timon was a sight which called into question the strength of his eyes. Because try as he might, he couldn't reconcile the scene he'd witnessed not long ago with the result he now saw.
A stone titan.
A sentinel of the depths, woven from stone and magic.
And now it was three neatly stacked piles of stone, silver and gemstones.
Timon was speechless. And that was a rare gift for those around him.
Stone titans were what every golem ever pieced together by a mage hoped to emulate. A dream as unlikely as a trout hoping to become a two-headed shark. Even the greatest constructs were only ever a pale imitation to what the world itself could create–as every soul here saw.
It was calamity given legs. A giant which could have wrestled with a dragon and won.
It knew no pain and feared no fire. A thing as cold and brutal as the depths from which it was made.
Its awakening was the first chapter to a tale of devastation.
… Except that the tale turned out to be as long as a synopsis, written by a sword which had again struck faster than his eyes could follow.
Even as he'd strained every fibre of his being, all he saw was a blur of shimmering light. However, rather than a heavenly strike blessed by Lady Lumielle, it was more like the gnashing teeth of a thousand ravenous hydras.
The stone titan hadn't been destroyed.
It'd been devoured.
Shredded like the letters from headquarters he used to keep his knifework active. And unlike them, he rather doubted if Mirabelle could put this thing back together.
In fact–
The only thing he'd truly caught was the smile of the girl wielding it.
Well, that and the laughter.
But Timon chose not to think about that. And very likely, neither did those beside him.
"We need more rum," said Miranda, breaking the silence while keeping the already existing bottle of rum wholly to herself. "Shall we begin searching?"
The din of silence answered.
A far cry to the cavern which had shortly ago trembled as they hid, squatting beneath the window of a tavern like a trio of burglars.
"The rum can wait," replied Mathias, as he did indeed begin searching for more rum. "What did your [Eye Of The Seeker] witness?"
"The same thing as your eyes. A stone titan about to add a tavern to its pancake collection. And then failing."
"Are you certain the girl isn't a mage? She could be a powerful one. A trained spellsword, perhaps. All I saw was a glow as the stone titan was brought down. Could that not have been offensive light magic at work? A strike imbued into her blade?"
Miranda frowned in thought.
"I'm uncertain. I believe the light was from the enchantments upon her sword. But weapon imbuement isn't a school of magic I'm overly familiar with. However … it's true that such magic is more subtle by design. An expert in channelling their magic into their sword would be difficult to detect."
"Then that's what we saw. I know of no warrior who can bring down a stone titan with a strike of pure light. This girl is a high-class mage."
Two pairs of eyes turned to Timon.
His first response was to simply chuckle.
"... Oh? And who's to say she's not both? At this point, it's not inconceivable that she's skilled in the schools of both magic and swordsmanship. Quite the fascinating one."
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" said Mathias with a wrinkle of his nose.
"Of course." Timon smiled as he began lifting chairs and pulling tables in place. "After all … it isn't too often a guildmaster can claim to have royalty in their ranks."
The groans came at once.
"Can we all just acknowledge that we heard nothing?" asked Miranda. "A girl who can turn a stone titan into a pile of broken pottery is one thing. That she is a princess is an entirely unnecessary dimension of complication we do not need."
"I know nothing of what you're speaking about," declared Mathias immediately. "If in the process of observing our newest prodigy, we happened to hear a loud declaration involving the word 'princess', then that is a problem my ears weren't privy to."
"There we go. Both Mathias and myself heard nothing. What about you, Timon?"
He rolled his shoulders and smirked, revelling in the dismay of his companions as much as the satisfying click of his joints.
Little did they know, he was holding back his mirth.
Timon wanted to laugh. He wanted to bellow until the tears rolled down his face.
For he never would have expected that of all the Contzens to assume the mantle of an adventurer, it would be the youngest.
Indeed … there could be no mistake. Nor was there a lie in her words.
That was not Princess Florella or Princess Clarise. But the features were there, to be seen when she was still enough that they could be registered. The same proud face. The same regal stature. If this were Reitzlake Castle, she'd be recognised at once.
However, no blindfold was greater than that of common sense, and he'd allowed it to mislead him as much as a curtain over his head.
He was quite happy to be free of it.
"Oh my," he said with a chuckle. "It appears your hearing is worse than mine. Because I happened to hear that my most promising recruit must be … ah, Princess Juliette Contzen, I believe. Quite the rare name, no?"
Miranda frowned. Hard.
"A princess as an adventurer is not a bonus. It is an issue."
"Why so? The guild has ever been the sanctuary of both rich and poor."
"Yes. With limits. Young nobility escaping their horse riding lessons, perhaps. But not royalty. They are the leaders of nations. Having one in our ranks is extremely problematic. How does she function with the guild code hanging over her?"
"Quite well, I believe, considering the excellent work she's done so far."
"Timon—"
The man gently held up his hand.
"You've no need to fret, Miranda. I may be old, but I'm not senile. She has only been able to achieve what she has through the cloak and veil she now uses. Much of it cast accidentally by ourselves. That isn't something I'd see tossed away, even if it'd make me the most envied guildmaster across the continent. So while I did hear, I'll also not speak."
The relief was palpable.
"Good," said Mathias, the wrinkles returning as his face relaxed. "She's your adventurer, as you enjoy saying. Whatever trouble she brings, it is of no concern to us."
Timon gave a bemused chuckle.
"Now, now, it's far too early to absolve yourself. The girl's royal status aside, there's still the matter of her status as a prodigious adventurer we need to consider. Therefore, as your friend, I want you both to know that when the time comes, I'll be dragging both of you down with me."
"When what time comes?" said Miranada, her tone exasperated. "What are you planning now?"
"Nothing that isn't unexpected for me, sly fox that I am."
Whatever looks of horror they'd worn while watching a princess disassemble a stone elemental like cheddar on a grater, it was nothing compared to what they offered him.
"If you're thinking what I am—"
"There's no 'if' about it, Miranda. That's exactly what I'm thinking."
"You cannot."
"Why's that? My thoughts are quite free."
"Too free. There are rules. Rules you stretch to the point of dough turning into the thinnest gruel, yes, but rules you've yet to break … publicly, at least. This would break them. You know that."
"Hoho. Do I now?"
"This isn't a laughing matter. You've already overstepped what a guildmaster's powers commonly allow. Headquarters is already up in arms. They're looking for any excuse to remove you. There will be repercussions. Consequences. One step out of line and they'll all be down here to personally drag you from your office."
It was a warning which made Timon Quinsley grin like a young boy again.
"Good. The Kingdom of Tirea could always use more adventurers. Even those older than I am. Maybe they'll see something to jog their memories while they're here."
Despondency answered him.
But no words.
After all, he hadn't become the guildmaster of Reitzlake without the obstinacy to do things his way until it was more trouble to get rid of him than allow him to stay.
He didn't intend to break that streak now.
"What about Liliane?" asked Miranda, deliberately pivoting the topic away. "We came here for her if I recall. Do we all cross our arms and awkwardly glower at her?"
"Leave Liliane to me. I'll speak with her as the kingdom's representative guildmaster. Given the lack of a talking crown on her head, I assume she's now in a more agreeable mood."
A look of incredulity came from Mathias.
"... Are you now volunteering to actually work? Without us to help share blame if your words cause another earth elemental to rise?"
"It's the least I can do. I brought you here to help me with an A-rank mage should my fears be realised. That was always the easy part. Chastising a grown woman? Now that's far harder. I wouldn't dare saddle you with such a gruelling task. But if you wish to assist, I'd be happy to continue imposing."
A snort came from his oldest rival, friend and enemy.
"You may see out the conclusion by yourself," he said, not wasting a moment before striding away. "How glad I am to be free of A-ranks. As far as anyone is concerned, I took a small holiday from Stermondt. I was never here."
He paused for a moment, glancing at the bar. He stood still for several seconds … just before reaching over and taking a bottle of the most expensive brandy still on a rack.
Then, he was off, back to his house of mice that he called a guild branch.
"... He did enjoy this," said Miranda diplomatically, rolling down her sleeves now that her magic wasn't needed. The bottle of rum she'd held was already missing. Likely in one of those very sleeves. "A little bit, at least."
"And yourself?"
Miranda raised a brow.
"Next time, ensure you send a warning beforehand. Your luck will run out at some point."
"I shall keep that in mind, Lady Howe."
Timon offered a flamboyant dip of his head. The best impression of politeness a man of his reputation could ever offer. It earned only a roll of the eyes.
"Ensure you're not too harsh on Miss Harten," she said, turning to leave. "There will be many seeking amends. Yet whatever this was, it could've been worse. She could use at least one sympathetic voice."
Timon paused.
After all, for all his light candour, he was still first among equals. And he had a role to play.
"If the option is available," he simply said.
Miranda offered a nod.
Then, with a turn of her heels, she followed in the much swifter footsteps of the one who was likely already halfway back to Stermondt.
Timon waited until she'd left before he sucked in a deep breath of air.
A sigh with twice the amount came out.
After a moment, he slowly hobbled towards the bar, every inch of his poor gait on display as he pulled out a stool. He whacked it against the floor to do away with the worst of the dust, then sat down with his elbows upon the counter, chin resting against the back of his hands.
"... A Granholtz Sunrise, please," he said calmly. "Easy on the ice."
The maiden behind the counter smiled.
Or perhaps 'maiden' was incorrect.
She was young, certainly. Likely not much older than the princess. But the demeanours between the two couldn't be more stark. One was an adventurer who strived to dispel the darkness from the kingdom her family had sworn to defend. The other was a viper pretending to be a flower.
A lotus flower, to be exact.
"A Granholtz Sunrise," repeated the girl with mismatched eyes, one as golden as autumn leaves, one as scarlet as her smile. "Authentic ones served in the ducal capital are usually made with honey, but I do have flareberry syrup available. Do you have a preference?"
Timon shrugged.
"Dealer's choice."
The girl's smile almost threatened to look genuine.
Even if it wasn't, every adventurer in Timon's hall would doubtless fall backwards over their own heels if they saw it. A big if, despite the garishness of the maiden's uniform.
"You're more observant than your colleagues," said the Dealer, busying her hands as she willingly turned her back. "But I suppose unlike them, you were never always an adventurer. A shame. Your experience is wasted squinting at paperwork."
Timon flinched impulsively for his pair of knives. Only trained experience and a history of watching those with swifter hands suddenly lose all their fingers held him back.
"You've little to concern yourself with, then. I can barely recall what the guild's own letterhead looks like. A grand achievement for a guildmaster."
"One of many, few of which your colleagues know about. Had your path not taken a brighter turn, perhaps those careful eyes of yours wouldn't be wasted on studying the shadows for unprincipled rascals like me."
"It's not my eyes I need for that. Just my nose."
"Oh my, do you imply something boorish, Mr. Guildmaster?"
"Not at all. Only that I'm not sneezing as much as I normally do around a bar. You tidied behind the counter. It looks better than my own. A fine job."
"Thank you. I don't enjoy mysteriously loitering in a mess."
"Only the warm and balmy shadows, I suppose?"
"If only that were true. I actually prefer the sunlight. Believe it or not, I'm a morning person."
Timon gave a generous chuckle.
As he did so, his impromptu bartender expertly handled all the things the goblins had left behind. There was the sound of careful slicing upon a cutting board as she prepared various ingredients before squeezing, stirring and mixing them as required with coconut liqueur into a pair of highball glasses.
She carefully placed both upon the counter.
"A Granholtz Sunrise," said the Dealer, nudging one towards him. "Made with a drop of honey. If you asked for flareberry syrup in Granholtz, you would be outed as a traitor or a spy."
Timon reached past it and took the other one.
The Dealer made no comment. She understood, after all.
"Good thing I'm a guildmaster, then. We regularly get away with worse."
"Yourself most of all. From the way your peers speak about you, you regularly commit open murder."
"On the careers of those after my chair, perhaps. I'm on quite the villainous spree. Although slightly less than what you can boast, I imagine. It seems the easiest way for a guildmaster to earn a holiday in Granholtz is to pluck the wrong flower."
"Then fortune follows the guild. Often the wrong flower when plucked can be lethal. A holiday is a welcome reprieve."
Timon sipped his drink.
To his slight annoyance, it was very good.
"Hm." He swirled the liquid in the glass, watching as the sunrise inverted. The nod was all he needed to offer. "... And so what brings such an esteemed guest to my neck of the woods, then, Lady Dealer?"
The girl shrugged.
She flicked at the glass with a fingertip. The shape within briefly changed into the shape of a bunny.
"The usual. Subterfuge. Larceny. Trespassing. Reading people's diaries. Being up to no good."
"Should I be concerned?"
"Always. But not now. Currently, I'm just a bartender."
"I hear the world sighing in relief. Quite the odd turn your career has taken."
"True. But no more than a princess with a copper ring or a masked rogue who boasts 37 active bounties across 8 nations as a guildmaster. Would you like to try a Goblin Surprise?"
"That depends. What's a Goblin Surprise?"
"The most abhorrent thing you will ever consume. I don't recommend it."
"Well, in that case, why isn't it already before me?"
The Dealer smiled.
Then, she efficiently stirred, shook, bashed several liquids together. Timon didn't know what half the things were. Only that it'd likely knock out what remained of his hair.
He accepted it regardless.
"... You've plans for my adventurer, I take it?"
"Of course. She has my personal curiosity."
"I'm sure she's shuddering on the spot. Mind if I ask what that personal curiosity entails?"
"Only things of the most sinister and foul nature. Yourself?"
Timon Quinsley chuckled.
He offered out his glass to a toast. The girl accepted.
"Hoho … exactly the same."
- Location
- Argentina
Worse she is basically a max level character already.
I like The Dealer. She is being nefarious for her own enjoyment and satisfaction, not just for the evulz or the like.
Chapter 342: Golden Hour
Beneath the fading dusk was a scene of joy.
Like a thorn plucked from the tip of a fingertip, my kingdom sighed in relief as the worst tourist feature to blight its fair horizon was being removed.
Amidst discarded furniture, workbenches and pickaxes, the goblins who had previously worked on seeing a makeshift castle peppered with traps now worked just as hard on seeing them carefully dismantled.
Bwooooomph!
Indeed … they were so careful that only a violent plume of flame and smoke rose.
A leaning tower burst like a shattering chandelier, sending a flash of light to fill the darkening surroundings. It was nothing compared to the delight which lit up upon the watching faces. Particularly as it was more than the mud being flung into the air.
It was also a tin hat.
Tableware inscribed with the Holy Church's emblem traded hands as goblins gambled over the distance that their formerly revered symbol of leadership could take to the sky.
For a moment, it stretched towards the clouds. A dull gleam propelled by the will of those breathlessly watching … just before it came crashing down into a puddle of mud.
Splat.
A few seconds later, the most enthusiastic worker here came to pick it up again.
"62.7 metres~!"called out Coppelia, raising the tin hat above her.
A round of applause met her as a new record was set. Just as it had been with each progressively greater amount of leftover traps they abused.
Even so, it still wasn't quite enough.
Because unlike a castle, the tin hat had yet to remove itself–despite its own best efforts.
"I have seen the error of my ways," came a somewhat squeaky voice, glowing only modestly in Coppelia's hands. "As a magical artifact created to emulate the will of my creator, I was not aware of the harm my machinations would cause to others. Please accept my apologies. I wish now to make amends, to forge new friendships and memories as I find my own place in this beautiful world ripe for conquest."
Coppelia, naturally, did not listen.
For one thing, the tin hat being used as passing entertainment was a far worthier role than its machinations deserved. But for another, it'd need to be handed over to the nearest guardhouse for safekeeping until it could be squirreled away into the same vault we kept all the other talking artifacts.
I just needed to tell her.
Once she'd had her share of amusement.
Bwooooomph!
It was likely to be a while.
Thus–both my attention and my smile were on the newly realised space before me. All that was left was to replace it with a few neatly trimmed hedgerows, a pond filled with water lilies, the gentle quiet of peace … and also the trappings of ceaseless industry.
Ohhohohohohoho!
Indeed, there was considerable work to be done!
To build a fully working mine fit for modern standards was no small task.
After all, to do it in such a way that the inhabitants of Troll Country just across the mountains could be kept awake by the plinking of pickaxes required careful planning and maximisation of acoustics.
Every corner needed to be carefully calibrated, every echo measured. We needed to ensure that each yelp when a ceiling collapsed ensured one less hour of sleep for the trolls.
That meant one more successful haggle for everyone else.
Yes, as a diligent and kind princess, I would do my part! … And I'd begin by hiring someone else to do this for me!
"... Right," said the goblin foreman, approaching with his clipboard already being squinted at. "I'm pleased to say that the disassembly process is proceeding on schedule. As many of our most volatile explosive traps weren't yet laid, I've been able to reallocate them for the purposes of targeted demolition."
I nodded in satisfaction.
It was somewhat loud, yes … and more than once, a boulder of mud had flung past my face.
However, by bringing down the castle with as much needless force as possible, it was also frightening away the trespassers who were doubtless already queuing up to loot what they could.
"Wonderful. Your efficiency has been exemplary."
"Thank you." The goblin foreman adjusted his helmet. "However, after a cursory overview of your requests, I've at least one major concern I need to raise."
"Oh? What would that be?"
He flipped a sheet of parchment upon his clipboard. I leaned forwards to peek at it. He turned it away.
"I'm told you wished for the mud, specifically the wettest mud with growing weed as a bonus, to be repurposed as a statue of the Grand Duchess, ruler of Granholtz … is this correct?"
I placed my hand upon my chest and smiled.
"Indeed, it is. As the most inseparable neighbour of this kingdom, it's imperative that tokens of friendship be regularly extended. A statue of their most respected leader crafted from the dirt … I mean, the soil of my kingdom is the finest compliment there is."
The foreman frowned as he gestured at the gradually growing valley of mud.
"Well, there are a few issues with that. The most immediate being that we don't have any sculptors here. And even if we did, none of my goblins knows what the Grand Duchess looks like. Any statue we carve of the human in question would fall far short of the quality which would be expected as a gift of a ruling monarch. She would look utterly terrible."
"Ohohohoh—uck, ahem. That is fine. The rulers of nations do not perceive art through such shallowness as their aesthetics or even accurate proportions. Merely heart."
"Right. But that's only the first issue. Did you want the statue built here?"
"What? Of course not. Such a hideous … ly impressive figure would be a distraction. I'd have it delivered to either the Granholtz Embassy or the Rensdraldt Fortress."
"There's the next problem then. Mud statues are not designed for transportation. Mud statues compromised by weeds even less so. It will never survive the journey. Mud is inherently fragile."
"Wha—! But you built a castle from it! Hopelessly lopsided, yes … but still a castle!"
"The castle had structural supports. It had wooden beams, a limestone foundation as well as thatching and gutters. A mud statue would be entirely exposed, while its weight distribution also makes it highly likely to crack. I'm afraid to say there's no practical solution if you wish to use only mud."
I clicked my tongue as I studied the remains of an exploding castle.
A disappointing verdict, but if that was the brunt of the bad news, then I'd accept it.
"Very well. Thank you for informing me of this. I shall consider alternatives. Is that all the issues?"
"There's other ones. But nothing I can't handle for the time being. Destroying is easier than building, after all." The foreman nudged his helmet, almost dipping it in respect. "It's a shame. Harten Castle was a rush job. But it was my rush job. For something made with no time, material or experience, I feel I did okay. Still, if it's never going to be finished, I'd rather see it torn down. Only dwarves leave work half-done."
"A commendable attitude. I'm certain your employers have each taken note. Incidentally, I happen to be now hiring miners. A foreman will also be needed."
The goblin looked up from his clipboard.
He narrowed his eyes at my lack of a helmet. But since the sign stating it was mandatory was mysteriously missing, he had no grievance to bring forward.
"You're offering me a job?"
"No, I'm offering a lifestyle change."
"This is going to be a new one, huh?"
"Quite so. It's a proposal which demands only one answer. Because in exchange for your time and service, you'll no longer need to barter for your moss cakes. You can purchase them–to such an extent that you can simply toss the ones with the slightest blemish through the nearest window."
"That seems a bit wasteful."
"Indeed, it is. Those tasked with making confectionery should do it correctly the first time. But you'll be remunerated generously enough that their errors will be less of a concern."
The goblin foreman raised an eyebrow. He tilted his helmet slightly just to make it more obvious.
"Huh, receiving a job offer from a human. Not sure when I should start running."
"Why, I suppose that's when you wish to begin. I'll require you to oversee the development of these mines. The tunnels you've excavated at short notice are admirable, but there's still work to be done–especially regarding further surveying. Overall, however, it's a simple process. Bundle anything which faintly glitters into an assorted pile and the kingdom will purchase it at a reasonable rate."
A small hum met my highly detailed job description.
"Feels more like a troll thing than a goblin thing. But I'm not against the prospect in principle. I've stayed in worse caves. Have you asked Snotrag?"
"Who is … Snotrag?"
"He wears a white chef's hat."
"Oh. Him. No, I haven't. Why?"
"Well, you'll need to run anything by Snotrag since he'll be the leader now. But I'll tell you now, I'm pretty sure he'll say no. He's not a fan of the smell around here."
"Yes, well, I'm afraid that cannot be helped. Lissoine is just over the horizon. Despite our written complaints, the perfume continues to drift in. Even so, I fail to see why you need permission. Being free from the yoke of a tin hat, you're now able to decide your own highly promising career prospects."
The goblin foreman shrugged.
"Hat or not hat, I don't see a reason to swap caves. Snotrag's got a good nose. And as far as I've seen, his hat's normal. I've never heard him talk to himself before."
"... Yet."
"'Scuse me?"
"If you don't wish to be made into a mid-level goon where you'll somehow take full responsibility for your leader's slide into self-absorbed ambition, then I suggest you consider my proposal. That goblin with the white chef's hat is currently posing as a guild receptionist. That is the first sign of danger. He has already tasted a position of unbridled power. Evil is not made. It is nurtured. And there is no greater source of corruption than behind a guild receptionist's desk."
A stare answered me.
"Um, I can't really comment. I've never met a guild receptionist … but I think I'll still have to decline."
I nodded, hearing the finality in his tone.
Then, I snapped my fingers and smiled.
"I'll let you build a castle."
The goblin blinked.
"Say what?"
"Castle. I'll let you build one."
"Wait. Didn't you just ask for a castle to be torn down?"
"No, I asked for a poorly costed large building project to be torn down. But as unfortunate as such a smudge is on your work history, your individual effort was noteworthy. Few could shape a castle with only sticks and stones to work with. Clearly you've some regrets. But now also experience."
A moment of hesitation came in the form of a heel tapping on the ground.
"It's … true. I'm not happy with my first attempt. And I'm certain the next will be better. But not without all the things I mentioned. Materials, time and space."
"All which you shall have. So here is my offer. I will permit you to build a castle once this mine is operational. And I promise that you shall have all the time, materials and space you desire."
"That's a tall promise, considering I'm already missing most of that. The ground here is soft and sloped. It's little more than a sandpit. Poor for building a hut, much less a castle. And without being too harsh, what stone you have is average at best. If I'm to build a castle, I'd want something better. White marble, for example. Like the ones they use in Lissoine. That's not cheap. And I'm definitely not paying for it."
I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
"Ohohoho … is that all?"
"You can get white marble?"
"I can. But I won't. That'd just be insulting. If I ask for a castle, I won't just give you better. I'll give you the very best. And that includes location. The castle won't be here."
"No?" The goblin looked at me in confusion. And also doubt. "Where would it be?"
"Somewhere which happens to boast an ample amount of unused space alongside scenic views of the ocean. It is a paradise called Soap Island. An enterprising place of joy consisting entirely of a mountain of naturally glazed volcanic rock. Why, you could build a castle entirely out of emberstone."
A look of stunned disbelief met me. And why not?
Few goblins were known as shipfarers. Even fewer princesses were known to offer them an entire island of naturally glossy stone to indulge in.
I leaned in and smiled.
"Perhaps you were considering a white castle, with pretty parapets and blue roofed towers. But why settle for something so pedestrian? I will offer you better. A chance to create something that will live long in the memory. A black castle with spiked battlements. Towers which spew flames. Walls so dark they will look like they've been scorched by a dragon. Those looking up from below will see a keep as foreboding as the deepest night. A bastion to send despair into all to look upon it, from pirates in the sea to local vagrants in the midst of rehabilitation. Naturally, as the foreman responsible, sole acclaim would be yours to take. Your name would be courted all across the continent. Particularly with so many passing traders as admirers. I offer more than an opportunity. But a chance for a legacy."
Only a wide open mouth met me.
The hat slowly tilted until an eye was covered. The one that was visible was the size of a large flan.
It was all the answer I required.
"... I'll be informing my sister about today's events," I said with a smile. "She's in nearby Trierport and will doubtless view both this mine and a new castle as a great benefit. Should you find my offer interesting, you simply need to wait for her correspondence. Until then, I wish you well."
With that, I offered a nod, then turned my heels and left for other matters.
Indeed, before I could begin planning what sufficiently darkened banners to drape over Soap Island's very own castle, I needed to finish other important business.
Namely … enduring one last spot of dourness today.
All of it coming from the deadened expression of a woman sitting in a cart.
I made my way over to a dusty corner of the quarry where the mining carts had been evacuated. Their burdens shone with silver as well as bits of copper and iron, and yet their glimmer was doused by the clear aura of dejection coming from a woman resting her head against a little corner.
It probably wasn't helped by the orange, black and white cat also poking her face.
The woman's only response was to stare blankly ahead.
I didn't fault her. The man holding the cat was nothing if not relentless.
Seeing me approach, he immediately sent the smile of a seasoned ruffian my way, before creasing his attire for good measure.
"And I thought Pepper was a handful," he said, bringing the cat back into his arms. It pawed the air in search of freedom. "First few days, he wouldn't even look at me unless I practically got down on my knees. That's not a good sign."
"I disagree," I replied. "By pleading on your knees, you're establishing a clear social hierarchy between adventurers and cats."
The man laughed.
I hardly saw why. An indisputable pecking order was important. Most conflicts only began when the dividing lines became too muddied.
"Yeah, I guess there's that. But mostly I'm referring to my ability to befriend cats. If I lose that magic touch, I'm not sure what I'd do with myself."
"Mr. Oddwell, there are other ways for adventurers to make a nuisance of themselves other than harassing cats. What they are … well, I'm not certain. But the guild must receive its funding from somewhere other than looting tombs."
"So I'm told. Got an interest in how the guild operates, huh?"
"I've an interest in who its secret patrons are, yes. As do my tax inspectors."
The man raised his palms.
"Hey. I'm innocent. I just do what's on the posters."
"My, then a caution is in order. With a respectable attitude like that, you'll be promoted in short order. Most adventurers waste their time idling away in the company of sloth."
"Well, you can't blame them. No point being an adventurer if you can't relax once every two seconds. Then we'd just be worse paid town guards."
The man gave a genial smile.
He was in good spirits. That was excellent. He could help by continuing to poke.
"To be a town guard is a profession to strive for. Few calamities have ever been caused by guarding a merchant's stall." I pointed at the lazing woman. "I see she's conscious. Has she lost the ability to speak?"
"No, uh, I hear her sighing every now and again. Mostly when Pepper sneezes in her direction. But Miss Harten will come around soon. I'm sure she's just got a few regrets on her mind right about now."
Hmm. True.
This was an appropriate, if belated realisation that I was indeed a princess. However, if she was only rendered immobile from embarrassment, then my healing touch couldn't save her.
… Fortunately, my smile was an even more delicate thing!
"Y-You are …"
Indeed, as she suddenly sat up and gawped in defiance of all etiquette, I leaned back in the knowledge that there was no faux pas which the smile of a princess at the top of the social hierarchy couldn't erase. Which was strange. Because I wasn't actually smiling.
I queried her with a raised brow. She ignored it. As did the commoner.
After all—
"Well now, isn't this quite the gathering of talent?"
They were both gawping at the elderly man behind me.
Grey hair. A stooped back. And garments so worn they were likely to send the seamstresses of Marinsgarde into a fainting frenzy.
I was aggrieved.
The first trespasser was an elderly man. I'd need to pretend to at least hesitate before I punted him away.
"Excuse me, sir, but I regret to say that this area isn't open to tourism … yet. If you'd like to inquire about sightseeing opportunities in the future, you may see the foreman once he's finished building a castle."
The man gave a hearty chuckle.
"Good thing I'm here to see you, then. As well as Miss Harten and Mr. Oxwell, of course."
He nodded towards the two adventurers.
Whether holding a cat or sitting in a cart, both stared at the new arrival in the way people only did when they were figures of influence.
Suffice to say, I didn't recognise him in the slightest.
"I see? And who might you be, then … ?"
"I'm Timon Quinsley. Guildmaster of Reitzlake. It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance, Miss Juliette–much delayed as this is to exchange introductions with an A-rank under my care. For that, please accept my apologies. My receptionist has told me much about you. Although ... ah, unless I'm mistaken, I do rather believe you might have dropped something, no?"
My mouth widened in utter incomprehension.
Meanwhile, Coppelia less than subtly accepted her cue.
Abandoning whatever she was doing the literal second before, she immediately appeared beside me, innocently whistling as she opened my bottomless pouch. A few moments of treason later, she plucked out a copper ring, then squeezed it onto my finger.
She casually sidestepped away, then grabbed a smoothie from a passing goblin. And also the goblin.
"Stay. This is better than an exploding castle."
Like a thorn plucked from the tip of a fingertip, my kingdom sighed in relief as the worst tourist feature to blight its fair horizon was being removed.
Amidst discarded furniture, workbenches and pickaxes, the goblins who had previously worked on seeing a makeshift castle peppered with traps now worked just as hard on seeing them carefully dismantled.
Bwooooomph!
Indeed … they were so careful that only a violent plume of flame and smoke rose.
A leaning tower burst like a shattering chandelier, sending a flash of light to fill the darkening surroundings. It was nothing compared to the delight which lit up upon the watching faces. Particularly as it was more than the mud being flung into the air.
It was also a tin hat.
Tableware inscribed with the Holy Church's emblem traded hands as goblins gambled over the distance that their formerly revered symbol of leadership could take to the sky.
For a moment, it stretched towards the clouds. A dull gleam propelled by the will of those breathlessly watching … just before it came crashing down into a puddle of mud.
Splat.
A few seconds later, the most enthusiastic worker here came to pick it up again.
"62.7 metres~!"called out Coppelia, raising the tin hat above her.
A round of applause met her as a new record was set. Just as it had been with each progressively greater amount of leftover traps they abused.
Even so, it still wasn't quite enough.
Because unlike a castle, the tin hat had yet to remove itself–despite its own best efforts.
"I have seen the error of my ways," came a somewhat squeaky voice, glowing only modestly in Coppelia's hands. "As a magical artifact created to emulate the will of my creator, I was not aware of the harm my machinations would cause to others. Please accept my apologies. I wish now to make amends, to forge new friendships and memories as I find my own place in this beautiful world ripe for conquest."
Coppelia, naturally, did not listen.
For one thing, the tin hat being used as passing entertainment was a far worthier role than its machinations deserved. But for another, it'd need to be handed over to the nearest guardhouse for safekeeping until it could be squirreled away into the same vault we kept all the other talking artifacts.
I just needed to tell her.
Once she'd had her share of amusement.
Bwooooomph!
It was likely to be a while.
Thus–both my attention and my smile were on the newly realised space before me. All that was left was to replace it with a few neatly trimmed hedgerows, a pond filled with water lilies, the gentle quiet of peace … and also the trappings of ceaseless industry.
Ohhohohohohoho!
Indeed, there was considerable work to be done!
To build a fully working mine fit for modern standards was no small task.
After all, to do it in such a way that the inhabitants of Troll Country just across the mountains could be kept awake by the plinking of pickaxes required careful planning and maximisation of acoustics.
Every corner needed to be carefully calibrated, every echo measured. We needed to ensure that each yelp when a ceiling collapsed ensured one less hour of sleep for the trolls.
That meant one more successful haggle for everyone else.
Yes, as a diligent and kind princess, I would do my part! … And I'd begin by hiring someone else to do this for me!
"... Right," said the goblin foreman, approaching with his clipboard already being squinted at. "I'm pleased to say that the disassembly process is proceeding on schedule. As many of our most volatile explosive traps weren't yet laid, I've been able to reallocate them for the purposes of targeted demolition."
I nodded in satisfaction.
It was somewhat loud, yes … and more than once, a boulder of mud had flung past my face.
However, by bringing down the castle with as much needless force as possible, it was also frightening away the trespassers who were doubtless already queuing up to loot what they could.
"Wonderful. Your efficiency has been exemplary."
"Thank you." The goblin foreman adjusted his helmet. "However, after a cursory overview of your requests, I've at least one major concern I need to raise."
"Oh? What would that be?"
He flipped a sheet of parchment upon his clipboard. I leaned forwards to peek at it. He turned it away.
"I'm told you wished for the mud, specifically the wettest mud with growing weed as a bonus, to be repurposed as a statue of the Grand Duchess, ruler of Granholtz … is this correct?"
I placed my hand upon my chest and smiled.
"Indeed, it is. As the most inseparable neighbour of this kingdom, it's imperative that tokens of friendship be regularly extended. A statue of their most respected leader crafted from the dirt … I mean, the soil of my kingdom is the finest compliment there is."
The foreman frowned as he gestured at the gradually growing valley of mud.
"Well, there are a few issues with that. The most immediate being that we don't have any sculptors here. And even if we did, none of my goblins knows what the Grand Duchess looks like. Any statue we carve of the human in question would fall far short of the quality which would be expected as a gift of a ruling monarch. She would look utterly terrible."
"Ohohohoh—uck, ahem. That is fine. The rulers of nations do not perceive art through such shallowness as their aesthetics or even accurate proportions. Merely heart."
"Right. But that's only the first issue. Did you want the statue built here?"
"What? Of course not. Such a hideous … ly impressive figure would be a distraction. I'd have it delivered to either the Granholtz Embassy or the Rensdraldt Fortress."
"There's the next problem then. Mud statues are not designed for transportation. Mud statues compromised by weeds even less so. It will never survive the journey. Mud is inherently fragile."
"Wha—! But you built a castle from it! Hopelessly lopsided, yes … but still a castle!"
"The castle had structural supports. It had wooden beams, a limestone foundation as well as thatching and gutters. A mud statue would be entirely exposed, while its weight distribution also makes it highly likely to crack. I'm afraid to say there's no practical solution if you wish to use only mud."
I clicked my tongue as I studied the remains of an exploding castle.
A disappointing verdict, but if that was the brunt of the bad news, then I'd accept it.
"Very well. Thank you for informing me of this. I shall consider alternatives. Is that all the issues?"
"There's other ones. But nothing I can't handle for the time being. Destroying is easier than building, after all." The foreman nudged his helmet, almost dipping it in respect. "It's a shame. Harten Castle was a rush job. But it was my rush job. For something made with no time, material or experience, I feel I did okay. Still, if it's never going to be finished, I'd rather see it torn down. Only dwarves leave work half-done."
"A commendable attitude. I'm certain your employers have each taken note. Incidentally, I happen to be now hiring miners. A foreman will also be needed."
The goblin looked up from his clipboard.
He narrowed his eyes at my lack of a helmet. But since the sign stating it was mandatory was mysteriously missing, he had no grievance to bring forward.
"You're offering me a job?"
"No, I'm offering a lifestyle change."
"This is going to be a new one, huh?"
"Quite so. It's a proposal which demands only one answer. Because in exchange for your time and service, you'll no longer need to barter for your moss cakes. You can purchase them–to such an extent that you can simply toss the ones with the slightest blemish through the nearest window."
"That seems a bit wasteful."
"Indeed, it is. Those tasked with making confectionery should do it correctly the first time. But you'll be remunerated generously enough that their errors will be less of a concern."
The goblin foreman raised an eyebrow. He tilted his helmet slightly just to make it more obvious.
"Huh, receiving a job offer from a human. Not sure when I should start running."
"Why, I suppose that's when you wish to begin. I'll require you to oversee the development of these mines. The tunnels you've excavated at short notice are admirable, but there's still work to be done–especially regarding further surveying. Overall, however, it's a simple process. Bundle anything which faintly glitters into an assorted pile and the kingdom will purchase it at a reasonable rate."
A small hum met my highly detailed job description.
"Feels more like a troll thing than a goblin thing. But I'm not against the prospect in principle. I've stayed in worse caves. Have you asked Snotrag?"
"Who is … Snotrag?"
"He wears a white chef's hat."
"Oh. Him. No, I haven't. Why?"
"Well, you'll need to run anything by Snotrag since he'll be the leader now. But I'll tell you now, I'm pretty sure he'll say no. He's not a fan of the smell around here."
"Yes, well, I'm afraid that cannot be helped. Lissoine is just over the horizon. Despite our written complaints, the perfume continues to drift in. Even so, I fail to see why you need permission. Being free from the yoke of a tin hat, you're now able to decide your own highly promising career prospects."
The goblin foreman shrugged.
"Hat or not hat, I don't see a reason to swap caves. Snotrag's got a good nose. And as far as I've seen, his hat's normal. I've never heard him talk to himself before."
"... Yet."
"'Scuse me?"
"If you don't wish to be made into a mid-level goon where you'll somehow take full responsibility for your leader's slide into self-absorbed ambition, then I suggest you consider my proposal. That goblin with the white chef's hat is currently posing as a guild receptionist. That is the first sign of danger. He has already tasted a position of unbridled power. Evil is not made. It is nurtured. And there is no greater source of corruption than behind a guild receptionist's desk."
A stare answered me.
"Um, I can't really comment. I've never met a guild receptionist … but I think I'll still have to decline."
I nodded, hearing the finality in his tone.
Then, I snapped my fingers and smiled.
"I'll let you build a castle."
The goblin blinked.
"Say what?"
"Castle. I'll let you build one."
"Wait. Didn't you just ask for a castle to be torn down?"
"No, I asked for a poorly costed large building project to be torn down. But as unfortunate as such a smudge is on your work history, your individual effort was noteworthy. Few could shape a castle with only sticks and stones to work with. Clearly you've some regrets. But now also experience."
A moment of hesitation came in the form of a heel tapping on the ground.
"It's … true. I'm not happy with my first attempt. And I'm certain the next will be better. But not without all the things I mentioned. Materials, time and space."
"All which you shall have. So here is my offer. I will permit you to build a castle once this mine is operational. And I promise that you shall have all the time, materials and space you desire."
"That's a tall promise, considering I'm already missing most of that. The ground here is soft and sloped. It's little more than a sandpit. Poor for building a hut, much less a castle. And without being too harsh, what stone you have is average at best. If I'm to build a castle, I'd want something better. White marble, for example. Like the ones they use in Lissoine. That's not cheap. And I'm definitely not paying for it."
I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.
"Ohohoho … is that all?"
"You can get white marble?"
"I can. But I won't. That'd just be insulting. If I ask for a castle, I won't just give you better. I'll give you the very best. And that includes location. The castle won't be here."
"No?" The goblin looked at me in confusion. And also doubt. "Where would it be?"
"Somewhere which happens to boast an ample amount of unused space alongside scenic views of the ocean. It is a paradise called Soap Island. An enterprising place of joy consisting entirely of a mountain of naturally glazed volcanic rock. Why, you could build a castle entirely out of emberstone."
A look of stunned disbelief met me. And why not?
Few goblins were known as shipfarers. Even fewer princesses were known to offer them an entire island of naturally glossy stone to indulge in.
I leaned in and smiled.
"Perhaps you were considering a white castle, with pretty parapets and blue roofed towers. But why settle for something so pedestrian? I will offer you better. A chance to create something that will live long in the memory. A black castle with spiked battlements. Towers which spew flames. Walls so dark they will look like they've been scorched by a dragon. Those looking up from below will see a keep as foreboding as the deepest night. A bastion to send despair into all to look upon it, from pirates in the sea to local vagrants in the midst of rehabilitation. Naturally, as the foreman responsible, sole acclaim would be yours to take. Your name would be courted all across the continent. Particularly with so many passing traders as admirers. I offer more than an opportunity. But a chance for a legacy."
Only a wide open mouth met me.
The hat slowly tilted until an eye was covered. The one that was visible was the size of a large flan.
It was all the answer I required.
"... I'll be informing my sister about today's events," I said with a smile. "She's in nearby Trierport and will doubtless view both this mine and a new castle as a great benefit. Should you find my offer interesting, you simply need to wait for her correspondence. Until then, I wish you well."
With that, I offered a nod, then turned my heels and left for other matters.
Indeed, before I could begin planning what sufficiently darkened banners to drape over Soap Island's very own castle, I needed to finish other important business.
Namely … enduring one last spot of dourness today.
All of it coming from the deadened expression of a woman sitting in a cart.
I made my way over to a dusty corner of the quarry where the mining carts had been evacuated. Their burdens shone with silver as well as bits of copper and iron, and yet their glimmer was doused by the clear aura of dejection coming from a woman resting her head against a little corner.
It probably wasn't helped by the orange, black and white cat also poking her face.
The woman's only response was to stare blankly ahead.
I didn't fault her. The man holding the cat was nothing if not relentless.
Seeing me approach, he immediately sent the smile of a seasoned ruffian my way, before creasing his attire for good measure.
"And I thought Pepper was a handful," he said, bringing the cat back into his arms. It pawed the air in search of freedom. "First few days, he wouldn't even look at me unless I practically got down on my knees. That's not a good sign."
"I disagree," I replied. "By pleading on your knees, you're establishing a clear social hierarchy between adventurers and cats."
The man laughed.
I hardly saw why. An indisputable pecking order was important. Most conflicts only began when the dividing lines became too muddied.
"Yeah, I guess there's that. But mostly I'm referring to my ability to befriend cats. If I lose that magic touch, I'm not sure what I'd do with myself."
"Mr. Oddwell, there are other ways for adventurers to make a nuisance of themselves other than harassing cats. What they are … well, I'm not certain. But the guild must receive its funding from somewhere other than looting tombs."
"So I'm told. Got an interest in how the guild operates, huh?"
"I've an interest in who its secret patrons are, yes. As do my tax inspectors."
The man raised his palms.
"Hey. I'm innocent. I just do what's on the posters."
"My, then a caution is in order. With a respectable attitude like that, you'll be promoted in short order. Most adventurers waste their time idling away in the company of sloth."
"Well, you can't blame them. No point being an adventurer if you can't relax once every two seconds. Then we'd just be worse paid town guards."
The man gave a genial smile.
He was in good spirits. That was excellent. He could help by continuing to poke.
"To be a town guard is a profession to strive for. Few calamities have ever been caused by guarding a merchant's stall." I pointed at the lazing woman. "I see she's conscious. Has she lost the ability to speak?"
"No, uh, I hear her sighing every now and again. Mostly when Pepper sneezes in her direction. But Miss Harten will come around soon. I'm sure she's just got a few regrets on her mind right about now."
Hmm. True.
This was an appropriate, if belated realisation that I was indeed a princess. However, if she was only rendered immobile from embarrassment, then my healing touch couldn't save her.
… Fortunately, my smile was an even more delicate thing!
"Y-You are …"
Indeed, as she suddenly sat up and gawped in defiance of all etiquette, I leaned back in the knowledge that there was no faux pas which the smile of a princess at the top of the social hierarchy couldn't erase. Which was strange. Because I wasn't actually smiling.
I queried her with a raised brow. She ignored it. As did the commoner.
After all—
"Well now, isn't this quite the gathering of talent?"
They were both gawping at the elderly man behind me.
Grey hair. A stooped back. And garments so worn they were likely to send the seamstresses of Marinsgarde into a fainting frenzy.
I was aggrieved.
The first trespasser was an elderly man. I'd need to pretend to at least hesitate before I punted him away.
"Excuse me, sir, but I regret to say that this area isn't open to tourism … yet. If you'd like to inquire about sightseeing opportunities in the future, you may see the foreman once he's finished building a castle."
The man gave a hearty chuckle.
"Good thing I'm here to see you, then. As well as Miss Harten and Mr. Oxwell, of course."
He nodded towards the two adventurers.
Whether holding a cat or sitting in a cart, both stared at the new arrival in the way people only did when they were figures of influence.
Suffice to say, I didn't recognise him in the slightest.
"I see? And who might you be, then … ?"
"I'm Timon Quinsley. Guildmaster of Reitzlake. It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance, Miss Juliette–much delayed as this is to exchange introductions with an A-rank under my care. For that, please accept my apologies. My receptionist has told me much about you. Although ... ah, unless I'm mistaken, I do rather believe you might have dropped something, no?"
My mouth widened in utter incomprehension.
Meanwhile, Coppelia less than subtly accepted her cue.
Abandoning whatever she was doing the literal second before, she immediately appeared beside me, innocently whistling as she opened my bottomless pouch. A few moments of treason later, she plucked out a copper ring, then squeezed it onto my finger.
She casually sidestepped away, then grabbed a smoothie from a passing goblin. And also the goblin.
"Stay. This is better than an exploding castle."
Chapter 343: A Princess’s Dignity
As a princess, I must always be the picture of grace.
Gentle. Elegant. Assured.
Like a ballerina upon a stage, it was all but guaranteed that my every movement, my every smile and my every snore would be watched for even the slightest sign of frailty.
After all, those who sought weakness were as endless as the shadows they resided in. Saboteurs, traitors and opportunists alike waited like crows watching a battlefield, their talons held for only as long as it took for the first whiff of weakness to be sniffed.
To keep my head raised at all times was thus an endeavour without end.
Yet even so, I remained forthright in my strides and unwakeable in my naps. For as the clouds turned dark and even the gulls fled from the sky, it was I who was looked upon as a beacon amidst the storm.
A calming presence in the turbulence of life.
A bastion of dignity. An oasis of serenity.
That's why—
"Haah … haaah … ughh … guuhh ..."
Not a single person saw me as I burst through a door.
"G-Good evening! Welcome to the Silk & Button Sewing House! … How may I help you?"
Indeed … I was so inconspicuous that it took all the alertness of the mildly startled seamstress in front of me to even notice my presence!
However, while my veil of secrecy and barely heard gasps of breath were just about impossible to discern, that didn't mean there was no hope for improvements.
Thus—with my clammy hands upon my knees, I sucked in the required air and looked up.
"Haahh … I … I require … a disguise."
"A … disguise?"
I nodded furiously.
A heartbeat later, I glanced behind my shoulder.
I watched as the door to one of Marinsgarde's many sewing houses slowly creaked to a close. As my eyes narrowed, I waited for a hand to thrust past the narrowing gap like a knife through a chest.
Nothing happened.
There were no chasing silhouettes. No wrinkled faces. No smiles promising social oblivion.
Even so, I chose not to rest.
Indeed, I had no time to waste. I needed to assume a new identity. To enshroud myself in such a cloak that even my own family would fail to recognise me. Anything less was to invite calamity.
Because right now … I was in mortal danger!
Yes … I could feel it like a choking darkness! An ominous sensation carried by the wind! A danger known only by deers just before the still of a forest was disturbed by the snapping of a twig!
… In short, my finely honed princesses senses were tingling!
"I urgently require something that can dampen my natural glow," I said, fixing my posture. "I understand this is very difficult. Regardless, it's imperative that I'm unable to be tracked. This is an emergency."
"Oh, I see! Well, given that you ran here—"
"I didn't run."
"Excuse me?"
"I have a fragile constitution. To even calmly walk here is a test of my delicate health."
The seamstress tilted her head and smiled.
Her eyes went from the beads of non-existent sweat to the fine threads of my attire.
"Is that so? … Well, given that you came here despite your delicate health, this truly must be an emergency. How is it that I can help? You wished for a disguise? Is this for an impromptu ball?"
"Yes. A masquerade of villains. And each one of them wearing a mask of harmless customer service. I need a new identity. What do you have available? Anything will do."
The seamstress's eyes lit up as she motioned to the nearest thing on display.
"Anything? In that case, perhaps you'd consider this! A lovely lady's buttoned doublet. Made for outdoor excursions, it's practical, durable and discreet while still remaining fashionable. The colours are demure enough to hide you both indoors and out. I believe it'd serve you well."
"Indeed, as do I."
"Excellent! The cost is–"
"After all, not even I would recognise myself in something where the bottom button is loose. Next."
"Oh, I didn't realise … then what about this? It's one of our most popular spring gowns. It's light, versatile, fit for a swift exit and every other occasion."
"Every occasion which involves public embarrassment, yes. The hem isn't even long enough to trail across the floor. If it can't be used as a weapon, it's no good."
"I … I see … then what about this? It's a simple overdress, but effective for blending in with a crowd."
"Not if they see the threading on the cuffs, no. They're not even symmetrical. Why, I may as well be wearing odd socks."
The seamstress's smile tightened.
Yes, exactly as she should be doing with her needlework.
"... Ah. In that case, I think it's best to take your time on seeing what you like. If you do decide on anything, I'll just be in the back room."
With that, the woman turned her heel and exited through a separate door.
She left little cause for optimism behind. I needed a new disguise. But not one which threatened to erase my royal status altogether. In that case, I needed to make my way to the next store. And if necessary, the next town as well. Perhaps the next continent.
After all–
"Hooo … been a while since I've been anywhere like this."
"–Hiieee?!
It was unlikely that anything less would suffice.
There he was.
An elderly man appearing unnoticed behind me with all the slyness of a badger in the night.
Not a single bead of sweat dampened his wrinkles, nor his smile. Lifting his stooped back slightly, he slowly turned his head like an owl at all the things I wouldn't be buying.
"Reminds me of Reitzlake's promenade. And also why I've stopped visiting the place. Anything made for tourists is a little too colourful for my liking."
I stepped away, holding my arms up in the pose of a martial art I wouldn't hesitate to use.
"... H-How did you follow me?!"
"Well, it wasn't easy, but you might say I've a dubious history involving these things. Ah, look at this. They do men's tunics as well. Maybe it's time I added something to my wardrobe after a decade."
He gave a chuckle. I didn't join him.
This man … why, he had the same aura as them!
Yes, those who stood smiling behind a desk!
He might not be wearing a receptionist's uniform, but he wielded the invisible cudgel of contempt towards my sleep all the same! I could see it clearly! That welcoming demeanour failed to hide the wicked thoughts bent on inconveniencing me as much as possible while somehow pretending it was what I wanted!
Slowly, I began to step around him.
"I … I see," I said with a brave smile. "Then I wish you luck in finding something to replace what seems to have already been enjoyed by the moths. Now, if you'll just excuse me ..."
I stepped to the left of the man.
And then I stepped to the right. And then back to the left.
Again and again, I repeated the motion like a dance even I'd need to bribe an audience to applaud. Especially as the man wasn't seeking to even mirror my efforts.
Instead, he was doing something far more cumbersome.
Taking his time to study the only thing on discount. Right in front of the door. Which I was certain he hadn't opened in order to enter.
"Ooph, am I in your way?" He scratched his back. Yes. Like a troll. "My apologies, I'll be out of your way in just a moment. My knees aren't as good as they used to be."
"Yes, they must have suffered greatly during your record breaking sprint here."
"Well, I can still use my legs when the demand comes–although I do need a good pause afterwards. Especially if I'm having to catch the attention of one who knows no rest. Eager to get to your next destination, huh? That's very commendable. Have to say, it's been a long time since anyone decided to not give me the time of day. But then again, most aren't as busy as you are."
"Busy. Yes. I'm extremely busy. In fact, I've no time to waste. I have things to do. So many that I can't even begin to put them into a list."
He gave a hearty smile.
"I'm certain you do. And although I'm loath to distract you from those who seek your aid, I promise this won't take up much of your time."
"Indeed, it won't. I see as obvious as the door you're blocking that you've a mind to offer me some praise. Know, however, that it's entirely unnecessary. I do what I do solely for my benefit and nobody else's."
Far from being stunned at this revelation, the elderly man only nodded.
"Impressive. To heed only your own satisfaction is truly selfless. Such unthinking dismissal of the piles of gold crowns which usually come with my acknowledgement is quite unheard of."
I paused.
"Well, if you've a pile of gold crowns you wish to do away with, then I can certainly consider it …"
"Oh, I've no doubt you would. Yet I wouldn't dare waste your time only to humour me out of politeness."
"No, it's fine. In fact, I just so happen to have a few seconds to spare. Did you bring a treasure chest with you, perhaps? Is it outside?"
"It is. For outside is the greatest treasure there is. The smiles of the people, safe and sound–if not in the knowledge of what you've done, then certainly due to the results of it."
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes as the disappointment instantly set in. I could hardly sell happiness.
"Very well. I note the joy and accept it. Now, if you'll just—"
"Indeed, it's a shame so few are aware of who safeguards them against the darkness. Yours is a sword so dazzling that most can only see where the blade has struck long after the last blink. Normally, tales such as yours would precede you. And yet only my receptionist seems to be truly aware of what you've accomplished. And now–perhaps myself as well."
I pursed my lips as I considered the frail stature of the elderly man blocking the door.
Then, I turned towards the next source of escape.
The only window.
"... Heheh, what'd I tell you? Isn't this great~?"
Only to see the smile of my loyal handmaiden as she blocked it from outside.
Nor was she the only one to do so. There was also a commoner, his mouth so wide that if I jumped out he'd surely swallow me. And for some reason, also a random goblin she'd kidnapped.
"Your handling of Miss Harten's unfortunate lapse of judgement was exemplary," said the elderly man as I immediately strode towards the fireplace. "Few could have resolved such an affair without harming her. Indeed, that would have been wholly justified, for an A-rank adventurer falling under a spell of ambition is as sad as it is dangerous."
I lifted the grate blocking the hole.
"Is … Is that so? How admirable you make me sound. And while I don't deny I'm wonderful, it'd be appalling for me to accept such unwanted recognition. Why, I was aided by ..."
I stopped to point at the commoner gawping through the window. The elderly man nodded.
"Ah, you mean Mr. Oxwell."
"Him. Yes. He deserves recognition for his bravery in … in … rescuing the cat. Without him, the creature would have been mildly inconvenienced before escaping on his own accord. Because he's a cat."
"Indeed, and now the owner will be reunited due to his effort and yours. Although many will consider it the least of things, my opinion is that helping to ensure a cat's safety is as impressive as rescuing Miss Harten from the throes of darkness. I've no doubt both will offer you their gratitude."
I leaned down in order to peer upwards through the chimney.
All I saw was soot. An abyss deeper than any hole which could be dug. I shuddered at what I was thinking.
"Yes, well, if the woman wishes to offer her gratitude, then she may do so as a written admission of culpability. Every goblin and their cousin will know about this debacle soon."
Silence answered.
I turned around, hoping the elderly man had magically vanished.
He hadn't.
"Indeed, Miss Harten's role isn't yet over," he said with a serious nod. "That's a conversation I fear will be less pleasant than this. However, what's most important is that great harm was averted–thanks in no small part to your skill. And so it's for this reason I wish to offer my apologies."
"... For blocking the door?"
"Yes. But also because my next words are quite unworthy. After all, no acknowledgement can truly be deemed sufficient for what you've achieved."
I was struck by horror.
Here it was.
The eyes filled with pride. The words of unabashed praise. The recognition that I was the only person with functioning limbs in the kingdom.
Indeed … my princess senses were more than tingling!
They were shaking me by the shoulders!
"That's why, I'd like to–"
"Wait, stop, stopstopstop!"
"Hm?"
I held up my palms. Both of them. If I tried hard enough, perhaps a fireball would form.
"Whatever you are about to say … the answer is no!"
"No?"
"No! Absolutely no! That is the short version! For the long version, it is also no, but repeated until the shoreline has eroded into a single pebble! Whatever you're about to offer, well … I wholly refuse it!"
A confused blink met me.
"... Are you sure? Although I'm certain your sword is a powerful thing, to decline the Severing Oath is something I'm uneasy about accepting without hearing an argument why."
"The what?"
"The Severing Oath. It's an enchanted blade kept in the private vault of the Reitzlake guild branch. It was wielded by one of the first companions. It's a treasure which headquarters have been unable to pry from me despite their best efforts. An artifact held by only the most worthy, able to sweep aside foes with the very glint of its edge. Only those who symbolise the very tenets of the guild are ever permitted to wield it, such is its history and worth. As a result, few ever do."
I paused.
"Is it expensive?"
"... Excuse me?"
"This treasured and historical artifact. Is it expensive?"
"Well, yes? Or rather, it's invaluable. The Severing Oath comes from a time of the guild's founding. And while I understand you've already a fine sword, perhaps you might be surprised if you were to wield it. If nothing else, I would still offer it as a token of gratitude for what you have accomplished. I dare say it will look better by your hip than locked away inside a vault."
I nodded in consideration, then leaned slightly forwards.
"Question."
"Yes?"
"You say 'invaluable'. But everything has a value. If the sword were to, say, be sold back to the Adventurer's Guild, how much would it be purchased for?"
The elderly man tilted his head ever so slightly.
"Uh … I'm not certain. But it would be an absurd amount."
"Enough to bankrupt the guild?"
"Well, certainly enough to drain our coffers, yes."
I clapped my hands in delight.
"... My, why didn't you say so! Then I accept the gratitude! … And also this ancient heirloom item of immeasurable cost! It's in Reitzlake, you say? In that case, I shall retrieve it at once for my troubles!"
For a brief moment, the elderly man's smile almost seemed to quiver.
The fleeting hesitation vanished as he turned towards the door, having now correctly decided not to purchase the tunic on discount.
"Good. Very good. I look forward to hearing what deeds you do with such an esteemed blade, then. It was a delight to have met you at last, Miss Juliette, brief as this meeting was. I do hope that when next we speak, it will be in more appropriate circumstances than this."
"Indeed, this was a surprisingly most unpainful meeting." I paused. "This … This is the end of the meeting, yes?"
"It is."
The man offered a smile as he made his way outside with an exaggerated limp.
I continued bracing myself … all the way until he offered a polite nod as the door slowly came to a close.
For a moment, nothing could be heard but the ticking of a clock, the gawping from a window and the sound of a town occupied by at least one flock of sheep clearly wondering where the grass was.
I waited several more moments.
Then, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Safe.
I … I was safe!
"Have you decided what you wish to purchase, miss?"
"–Hiee?!"
Immediately, I jumped slightly as the seamstress made her return.
Her remarkably silent footsteps were not at all appreciated. But since I'd been given that rarest of reprieves, I was also in a highly generous mood. And also forgiving.
Thus, I turned to offer a helpful word of advice concerning her stitching.
My lips parted … and then stayed parted as I realised to my puzzlement that the seamstress had returned with a different uniform. And also face. And hair. And smile.
Because no matter how many years one worked in a shop, no smile could emulate the ones wielded by those who stood behind a receptionist's desk.
Unyielding. Unbreaking. Unwavering.
They were bright and professional. Yet one peek past the surface, and only darkness was revealed. A sea so hollow that light existed only to be devoured, fuelling the wicked schemes which controlled every movement and dictated every word.
Before me, a familiar receptionist offered such a smile.
It … It was her!
"Greetings!" said the harbinger of doom, withholding an obvious giggle of amusement. She hugged a sheet of parchment to her chest. "I apologise for the sudden appearance. I understand you've just finished your conversation with Guildmaster Quinsley. May I have a moment of your time?"
"Wha–" I pointed at once to the door to the other room. "What … What did you do to the seamstress?!"
The receptionist offered a tilt of her head. Whatever she said next was a lie.
"Hm? I haven't done anything. I believe she's currently enjoying her lunch. I apologised profusely for disturbing her and offered compensation for the guild taking up her business time."
My mouth widened … all the more so as I realised there was smoke rising from her shoulders and hair.
"E-Excuse me! Were you just on fire?!"
The receptionist casually patted away the smoke. It made utterly no difference.
"I was in Reitzlake not long ago. I received a request from Guildmaster Quinsley for assistance in finalising matters of formality. He believes it's appropriate that I handle this given our past meetings. Due to the short notice, I was required to teleport to several guild branches, each acting as waystations with my colleagues assisting in the spellwork."
I took a step back … all the way until I was at the door of the shop.
Frankly, I didn't know what was more horrifying. The fact that they were now openly conspiring against me or the knowledge that fire had no effect on them.
"I … I see …" My lips bravely assumed a smile as I slowly reached for the door handle. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm exceptionally busy and have no time for bureaucracy."
"I understand. Few adventurers have chosen their profession in order to sign paperwork. However, none of that will be required now. I've successfully finalised what we last discussed."
I stopped as the door began to creak open.
Then, slowly, like a broken clock, I turned towards the smiling receptionist.
"W-What did we last discuss?"
"Your certificate." She held out her suspect piece of parchment. "You didn't specify which colour you wanted, so I chose a neutral one. If you prefer another, that can be arranged."
I looked at the certificate she held out.
There, written in ink as black as despair, was little more than a short note.
I stared.
A moment later, I threw up my arms in outrage.
"Is this it … ?!"
"Excuse me?"
"This! This is terrible! For something so likely to induce nightmares, why is it so plain?! … Even my 20 metre swimming certificate is more extravagant!"
The receptionist offered a smile of apology
"Ah. This certificate is only a matter of formality. In truth, I believe most A-rank adventurers are not even aware we issue certificates until they receive it. For that reason, little thought is put into its design."
I was utterly appalled.
There was only a single joy which could be derived from a certificate issued by the guild. And even that was now lamentable. How was I supposed to know I'd burned this thing once it went into the hearth? It looked like any other piece of scrap kindling!
"Very well. In that case, you may keep it."
"Excuse me?"
"My pouch might be bottomless, but that hardly means I can fill it up with clutter. It'll make reaching for the piles of crowns I've legally accrued needlessly difficult."
The receptionist gave a small hum as she looked up in thought.
"Oh, I see! … That's certainly a legitimate concern."
"Excellent, then I'll just be–"
"However, I believe I'm still obliged to present this to you."
With that, she held out the certificate while smiling enthusiastically.
I didn't take it.
"... Does this mean you'll haunt me until I wake up with this mysteriously smothering my face?"
"Unfortunately, I'm not aware of any drawer for the guild to store excess certificates."
Remarkable.
She neither confirmed nor denied it.
Truly an excellent staff member in the making. Once her smile no longer filled me with the black pits of remorse, I would go about hiring her before she could cause more damage.
I quietly groaned, then reached out to pinch the very corner of the certificate like the linen napkins offered by inns. It'd be held like this all the way until I could offer it as a snack for Apple.
He'll be delighted.
Especially as there were two of them.
As I pinched the certificate, an identical sheet separated out from underneath. I raised a brow in confusion.
"... Why do I have a copy?"
"That isn't a copy."
"It looks exactly the same."
"The design is the same. But the contents are slightly different."
I pursed my lips … then slowly leaned in to read it.
The receptionist lightly applauded.
"Congratulations! You are now an S-rank adventurer!"
As she smiled, wild claps joined her from the window. All of them by Coppelia as she wore the biggest smile I'd ever seen. Beside her, the commoner had his mouth open so wide it seemed like he was attempting to eat the window.
I blinked.
"Excuse me … ?"
"You've now reached S-rank. This is your certificate. For your convenience, I thought I should provide both of the certificates that you've earned at the same time."
My mouth opened and closed.
Eventually–I gently raised my hands and gestured around me. At a shop filled with dresses which would only serve to be used as poor quality bed stuffing.
"Is ... Is this it?"
"Yes."
"Is there not more that's required? A convocation perhaps? Endless debate bristling with blood and politics? Guildmasters across different nations striving to undermine each other? Official tests of worth filled with unneutral observers?"
The receptionist gave a small, polite laugh into her hand.
"A meeting of guildmasters is only required for access to the B-rank trials. Once an adventurer has been accepted into the senior ranks, rules regarding advancement are … non-standard. There are traditions which are usually observed. However, Guildmaster Quinsley has indicated he'll be personally ensuring that no issues arise."
"I see."
I hummed in thought.
Then, after staring at the ceiling for so long that a receptionist reached up to wave above me, I calmly walked around the shop, selecting the best dresses available and gathering them up in my arms.
Once I had enough, I carefully placed them all in the middle of the floor in a tidy bundle.
I nodded in satisfaction, brushed down my skirt and turned around.
A moment later–
Darkness took me as I collapsed.
Gentle. Elegant. Assured.
Like a ballerina upon a stage, it was all but guaranteed that my every movement, my every smile and my every snore would be watched for even the slightest sign of frailty.
After all, those who sought weakness were as endless as the shadows they resided in. Saboteurs, traitors and opportunists alike waited like crows watching a battlefield, their talons held for only as long as it took for the first whiff of weakness to be sniffed.
To keep my head raised at all times was thus an endeavour without end.
Yet even so, I remained forthright in my strides and unwakeable in my naps. For as the clouds turned dark and even the gulls fled from the sky, it was I who was looked upon as a beacon amidst the storm.
A calming presence in the turbulence of life.
A bastion of dignity. An oasis of serenity.
That's why—
"Haah … haaah … ughh … guuhh ..."
Not a single person saw me as I burst through a door.
"G-Good evening! Welcome to the Silk & Button Sewing House! … How may I help you?"
Indeed … I was so inconspicuous that it took all the alertness of the mildly startled seamstress in front of me to even notice my presence!
However, while my veil of secrecy and barely heard gasps of breath were just about impossible to discern, that didn't mean there was no hope for improvements.
Thus—with my clammy hands upon my knees, I sucked in the required air and looked up.
"Haahh … I … I require … a disguise."
"A … disguise?"
I nodded furiously.
A heartbeat later, I glanced behind my shoulder.
I watched as the door to one of Marinsgarde's many sewing houses slowly creaked to a close. As my eyes narrowed, I waited for a hand to thrust past the narrowing gap like a knife through a chest.
Nothing happened.
There were no chasing silhouettes. No wrinkled faces. No smiles promising social oblivion.
Even so, I chose not to rest.
Indeed, I had no time to waste. I needed to assume a new identity. To enshroud myself in such a cloak that even my own family would fail to recognise me. Anything less was to invite calamity.
Because right now … I was in mortal danger!
Yes … I could feel it like a choking darkness! An ominous sensation carried by the wind! A danger known only by deers just before the still of a forest was disturbed by the snapping of a twig!
… In short, my finely honed princesses senses were tingling!
"I urgently require something that can dampen my natural glow," I said, fixing my posture. "I understand this is very difficult. Regardless, it's imperative that I'm unable to be tracked. This is an emergency."
"Oh, I see! Well, given that you ran here—"
"I didn't run."
"Excuse me?"
"I have a fragile constitution. To even calmly walk here is a test of my delicate health."
The seamstress tilted her head and smiled.
Her eyes went from the beads of non-existent sweat to the fine threads of my attire.
"Is that so? … Well, given that you came here despite your delicate health, this truly must be an emergency. How is it that I can help? You wished for a disguise? Is this for an impromptu ball?"
"Yes. A masquerade of villains. And each one of them wearing a mask of harmless customer service. I need a new identity. What do you have available? Anything will do."
The seamstress's eyes lit up as she motioned to the nearest thing on display.
"Anything? In that case, perhaps you'd consider this! A lovely lady's buttoned doublet. Made for outdoor excursions, it's practical, durable and discreet while still remaining fashionable. The colours are demure enough to hide you both indoors and out. I believe it'd serve you well."
"Indeed, as do I."
"Excellent! The cost is–"
"After all, not even I would recognise myself in something where the bottom button is loose. Next."
"Oh, I didn't realise … then what about this? It's one of our most popular spring gowns. It's light, versatile, fit for a swift exit and every other occasion."
"Every occasion which involves public embarrassment, yes. The hem isn't even long enough to trail across the floor. If it can't be used as a weapon, it's no good."
"I … I see … then what about this? It's a simple overdress, but effective for blending in with a crowd."
"Not if they see the threading on the cuffs, no. They're not even symmetrical. Why, I may as well be wearing odd socks."
The seamstress's smile tightened.
Yes, exactly as she should be doing with her needlework.
"... Ah. In that case, I think it's best to take your time on seeing what you like. If you do decide on anything, I'll just be in the back room."
With that, the woman turned her heel and exited through a separate door.
She left little cause for optimism behind. I needed a new disguise. But not one which threatened to erase my royal status altogether. In that case, I needed to make my way to the next store. And if necessary, the next town as well. Perhaps the next continent.
After all–
"Hooo … been a while since I've been anywhere like this."
"–Hiieee?!
It was unlikely that anything less would suffice.
There he was.
An elderly man appearing unnoticed behind me with all the slyness of a badger in the night.
Not a single bead of sweat dampened his wrinkles, nor his smile. Lifting his stooped back slightly, he slowly turned his head like an owl at all the things I wouldn't be buying.
"Reminds me of Reitzlake's promenade. And also why I've stopped visiting the place. Anything made for tourists is a little too colourful for my liking."
I stepped away, holding my arms up in the pose of a martial art I wouldn't hesitate to use.
"... H-How did you follow me?!"
"Well, it wasn't easy, but you might say I've a dubious history involving these things. Ah, look at this. They do men's tunics as well. Maybe it's time I added something to my wardrobe after a decade."
He gave a chuckle. I didn't join him.
This man … why, he had the same aura as them!
Yes, those who stood smiling behind a desk!
He might not be wearing a receptionist's uniform, but he wielded the invisible cudgel of contempt towards my sleep all the same! I could see it clearly! That welcoming demeanour failed to hide the wicked thoughts bent on inconveniencing me as much as possible while somehow pretending it was what I wanted!
Slowly, I began to step around him.
"I … I see," I said with a brave smile. "Then I wish you luck in finding something to replace what seems to have already been enjoyed by the moths. Now, if you'll just excuse me ..."
I stepped to the left of the man.
And then I stepped to the right. And then back to the left.
Again and again, I repeated the motion like a dance even I'd need to bribe an audience to applaud. Especially as the man wasn't seeking to even mirror my efforts.
Instead, he was doing something far more cumbersome.
Taking his time to study the only thing on discount. Right in front of the door. Which I was certain he hadn't opened in order to enter.
"Ooph, am I in your way?" He scratched his back. Yes. Like a troll. "My apologies, I'll be out of your way in just a moment. My knees aren't as good as they used to be."
"Yes, they must have suffered greatly during your record breaking sprint here."
"Well, I can still use my legs when the demand comes–although I do need a good pause afterwards. Especially if I'm having to catch the attention of one who knows no rest. Eager to get to your next destination, huh? That's very commendable. Have to say, it's been a long time since anyone decided to not give me the time of day. But then again, most aren't as busy as you are."
"Busy. Yes. I'm extremely busy. In fact, I've no time to waste. I have things to do. So many that I can't even begin to put them into a list."
He gave a hearty smile.
"I'm certain you do. And although I'm loath to distract you from those who seek your aid, I promise this won't take up much of your time."
"Indeed, it won't. I see as obvious as the door you're blocking that you've a mind to offer me some praise. Know, however, that it's entirely unnecessary. I do what I do solely for my benefit and nobody else's."
Far from being stunned at this revelation, the elderly man only nodded.
"Impressive. To heed only your own satisfaction is truly selfless. Such unthinking dismissal of the piles of gold crowns which usually come with my acknowledgement is quite unheard of."
I paused.
"Well, if you've a pile of gold crowns you wish to do away with, then I can certainly consider it …"
"Oh, I've no doubt you would. Yet I wouldn't dare waste your time only to humour me out of politeness."
"No, it's fine. In fact, I just so happen to have a few seconds to spare. Did you bring a treasure chest with you, perhaps? Is it outside?"
"It is. For outside is the greatest treasure there is. The smiles of the people, safe and sound–if not in the knowledge of what you've done, then certainly due to the results of it."
Ugh.
I rolled my eyes as the disappointment instantly set in. I could hardly sell happiness.
"Very well. I note the joy and accept it. Now, if you'll just—"
"Indeed, it's a shame so few are aware of who safeguards them against the darkness. Yours is a sword so dazzling that most can only see where the blade has struck long after the last blink. Normally, tales such as yours would precede you. And yet only my receptionist seems to be truly aware of what you've accomplished. And now–perhaps myself as well."
I pursed my lips as I considered the frail stature of the elderly man blocking the door.
Then, I turned towards the next source of escape.
The only window.
"... Heheh, what'd I tell you? Isn't this great~?"
Only to see the smile of my loyal handmaiden as she blocked it from outside.
Nor was she the only one to do so. There was also a commoner, his mouth so wide that if I jumped out he'd surely swallow me. And for some reason, also a random goblin she'd kidnapped.
"Your handling of Miss Harten's unfortunate lapse of judgement was exemplary," said the elderly man as I immediately strode towards the fireplace. "Few could have resolved such an affair without harming her. Indeed, that would have been wholly justified, for an A-rank adventurer falling under a spell of ambition is as sad as it is dangerous."
I lifted the grate blocking the hole.
"Is … Is that so? How admirable you make me sound. And while I don't deny I'm wonderful, it'd be appalling for me to accept such unwanted recognition. Why, I was aided by ..."
I stopped to point at the commoner gawping through the window. The elderly man nodded.
"Ah, you mean Mr. Oxwell."
"Him. Yes. He deserves recognition for his bravery in … in … rescuing the cat. Without him, the creature would have been mildly inconvenienced before escaping on his own accord. Because he's a cat."
"Indeed, and now the owner will be reunited due to his effort and yours. Although many will consider it the least of things, my opinion is that helping to ensure a cat's safety is as impressive as rescuing Miss Harten from the throes of darkness. I've no doubt both will offer you their gratitude."
I leaned down in order to peer upwards through the chimney.
All I saw was soot. An abyss deeper than any hole which could be dug. I shuddered at what I was thinking.
"Yes, well, if the woman wishes to offer her gratitude, then she may do so as a written admission of culpability. Every goblin and their cousin will know about this debacle soon."
Silence answered.
I turned around, hoping the elderly man had magically vanished.
He hadn't.
"Indeed, Miss Harten's role isn't yet over," he said with a serious nod. "That's a conversation I fear will be less pleasant than this. However, what's most important is that great harm was averted–thanks in no small part to your skill. And so it's for this reason I wish to offer my apologies."
"... For blocking the door?"
"Yes. But also because my next words are quite unworthy. After all, no acknowledgement can truly be deemed sufficient for what you've achieved."
I was struck by horror.
Here it was.
The eyes filled with pride. The words of unabashed praise. The recognition that I was the only person with functioning limbs in the kingdom.
Indeed … my princess senses were more than tingling!
They were shaking me by the shoulders!
"That's why, I'd like to–"
"Wait, stop, stopstopstop!"
"Hm?"
I held up my palms. Both of them. If I tried hard enough, perhaps a fireball would form.
"Whatever you are about to say … the answer is no!"
"No?"
"No! Absolutely no! That is the short version! For the long version, it is also no, but repeated until the shoreline has eroded into a single pebble! Whatever you're about to offer, well … I wholly refuse it!"
A confused blink met me.
"... Are you sure? Although I'm certain your sword is a powerful thing, to decline the Severing Oath is something I'm uneasy about accepting without hearing an argument why."
"The what?"
"The Severing Oath. It's an enchanted blade kept in the private vault of the Reitzlake guild branch. It was wielded by one of the first companions. It's a treasure which headquarters have been unable to pry from me despite their best efforts. An artifact held by only the most worthy, able to sweep aside foes with the very glint of its edge. Only those who symbolise the very tenets of the guild are ever permitted to wield it, such is its history and worth. As a result, few ever do."
I paused.
"Is it expensive?"
"... Excuse me?"
"This treasured and historical artifact. Is it expensive?"
"Well, yes? Or rather, it's invaluable. The Severing Oath comes from a time of the guild's founding. And while I understand you've already a fine sword, perhaps you might be surprised if you were to wield it. If nothing else, I would still offer it as a token of gratitude for what you have accomplished. I dare say it will look better by your hip than locked away inside a vault."
I nodded in consideration, then leaned slightly forwards.
"Question."
"Yes?"
"You say 'invaluable'. But everything has a value. If the sword were to, say, be sold back to the Adventurer's Guild, how much would it be purchased for?"
The elderly man tilted his head ever so slightly.
"Uh … I'm not certain. But it would be an absurd amount."
"Enough to bankrupt the guild?"
"Well, certainly enough to drain our coffers, yes."
I clapped my hands in delight.
"... My, why didn't you say so! Then I accept the gratitude! … And also this ancient heirloom item of immeasurable cost! It's in Reitzlake, you say? In that case, I shall retrieve it at once for my troubles!"
For a brief moment, the elderly man's smile almost seemed to quiver.
The fleeting hesitation vanished as he turned towards the door, having now correctly decided not to purchase the tunic on discount.
"Good. Very good. I look forward to hearing what deeds you do with such an esteemed blade, then. It was a delight to have met you at last, Miss Juliette, brief as this meeting was. I do hope that when next we speak, it will be in more appropriate circumstances than this."
"Indeed, this was a surprisingly most unpainful meeting." I paused. "This … This is the end of the meeting, yes?"
"It is."
The man offered a smile as he made his way outside with an exaggerated limp.
I continued bracing myself … all the way until he offered a polite nod as the door slowly came to a close.
For a moment, nothing could be heard but the ticking of a clock, the gawping from a window and the sound of a town occupied by at least one flock of sheep clearly wondering where the grass was.
I waited several more moments.
Then, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Safe.
I … I was safe!
"Have you decided what you wish to purchase, miss?"
"–Hiee?!"
Immediately, I jumped slightly as the seamstress made her return.
Her remarkably silent footsteps were not at all appreciated. But since I'd been given that rarest of reprieves, I was also in a highly generous mood. And also forgiving.
Thus, I turned to offer a helpful word of advice concerning her stitching.
My lips parted … and then stayed parted as I realised to my puzzlement that the seamstress had returned with a different uniform. And also face. And hair. And smile.
Because no matter how many years one worked in a shop, no smile could emulate the ones wielded by those who stood behind a receptionist's desk.
Unyielding. Unbreaking. Unwavering.
They were bright and professional. Yet one peek past the surface, and only darkness was revealed. A sea so hollow that light existed only to be devoured, fuelling the wicked schemes which controlled every movement and dictated every word.
Before me, a familiar receptionist offered such a smile.
It … It was her!
"Greetings!" said the harbinger of doom, withholding an obvious giggle of amusement. She hugged a sheet of parchment to her chest. "I apologise for the sudden appearance. I understand you've just finished your conversation with Guildmaster Quinsley. May I have a moment of your time?"
"Wha–" I pointed at once to the door to the other room. "What … What did you do to the seamstress?!"
The receptionist offered a tilt of her head. Whatever she said next was a lie.
"Hm? I haven't done anything. I believe she's currently enjoying her lunch. I apologised profusely for disturbing her and offered compensation for the guild taking up her business time."
My mouth widened … all the more so as I realised there was smoke rising from her shoulders and hair.
"E-Excuse me! Were you just on fire?!"
The receptionist casually patted away the smoke. It made utterly no difference.
"I was in Reitzlake not long ago. I received a request from Guildmaster Quinsley for assistance in finalising matters of formality. He believes it's appropriate that I handle this given our past meetings. Due to the short notice, I was required to teleport to several guild branches, each acting as waystations with my colleagues assisting in the spellwork."
I took a step back … all the way until I was at the door of the shop.
Frankly, I didn't know what was more horrifying. The fact that they were now openly conspiring against me or the knowledge that fire had no effect on them.
"I … I see …" My lips bravely assumed a smile as I slowly reached for the door handle. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I'm exceptionally busy and have no time for bureaucracy."
"I understand. Few adventurers have chosen their profession in order to sign paperwork. However, none of that will be required now. I've successfully finalised what we last discussed."
I stopped as the door began to creak open.
Then, slowly, like a broken clock, I turned towards the smiling receptionist.
"W-What did we last discuss?"
"Your certificate." She held out her suspect piece of parchment. "You didn't specify which colour you wanted, so I chose a neutral one. If you prefer another, that can be arranged."
I looked at the certificate she held out.
There, written in ink as black as despair, was little more than a short note.
This certificate hereby certifies that the following member of the Adventurer's Guild has reached A-rank.
JULIETTE.
Reitzlake Branch.
JULIETTE.
Reitzlake Branch.
I stared.
A moment later, I threw up my arms in outrage.
"Is this it … ?!"
"Excuse me?"
"This! This is terrible! For something so likely to induce nightmares, why is it so plain?! … Even my 20 metre swimming certificate is more extravagant!"
The receptionist offered a smile of apology
"Ah. This certificate is only a matter of formality. In truth, I believe most A-rank adventurers are not even aware we issue certificates until they receive it. For that reason, little thought is put into its design."
I was utterly appalled.
There was only a single joy which could be derived from a certificate issued by the guild. And even that was now lamentable. How was I supposed to know I'd burned this thing once it went into the hearth? It looked like any other piece of scrap kindling!
"Very well. In that case, you may keep it."
"Excuse me?"
"My pouch might be bottomless, but that hardly means I can fill it up with clutter. It'll make reaching for the piles of crowns I've legally accrued needlessly difficult."
The receptionist gave a small hum as she looked up in thought.
"Oh, I see! … That's certainly a legitimate concern."
"Excellent, then I'll just be–"
"However, I believe I'm still obliged to present this to you."
With that, she held out the certificate while smiling enthusiastically.
I didn't take it.
"... Does this mean you'll haunt me until I wake up with this mysteriously smothering my face?"
"Unfortunately, I'm not aware of any drawer for the guild to store excess certificates."
Remarkable.
She neither confirmed nor denied it.
Truly an excellent staff member in the making. Once her smile no longer filled me with the black pits of remorse, I would go about hiring her before she could cause more damage.
I quietly groaned, then reached out to pinch the very corner of the certificate like the linen napkins offered by inns. It'd be held like this all the way until I could offer it as a snack for Apple.
He'll be delighted.
Especially as there were two of them.
As I pinched the certificate, an identical sheet separated out from underneath. I raised a brow in confusion.
"... Why do I have a copy?"
"That isn't a copy."
"It looks exactly the same."
"The design is the same. But the contents are slightly different."
I pursed my lips … then slowly leaned in to read it.
This certificate hereby certifies that the following member of the Adventurer's Guild has reached S-rank.
JULIETTE.
Reitzlake Branch.
JULIETTE.
Reitzlake Branch.
The receptionist lightly applauded.
"Congratulations! You are now an S-rank adventurer!"
As she smiled, wild claps joined her from the window. All of them by Coppelia as she wore the biggest smile I'd ever seen. Beside her, the commoner had his mouth open so wide it seemed like he was attempting to eat the window.
I blinked.
"Excuse me … ?"
"You've now reached S-rank. This is your certificate. For your convenience, I thought I should provide both of the certificates that you've earned at the same time."
My mouth opened and closed.
Eventually–I gently raised my hands and gestured around me. At a shop filled with dresses which would only serve to be used as poor quality bed stuffing.
"Is ... Is this it?"
"Yes."
"Is there not more that's required? A convocation perhaps? Endless debate bristling with blood and politics? Guildmasters across different nations striving to undermine each other? Official tests of worth filled with unneutral observers?"
The receptionist gave a small, polite laugh into her hand.
"A meeting of guildmasters is only required for access to the B-rank trials. Once an adventurer has been accepted into the senior ranks, rules regarding advancement are … non-standard. There are traditions which are usually observed. However, Guildmaster Quinsley has indicated he'll be personally ensuring that no issues arise."
"I see."
I hummed in thought.
Then, after staring at the ceiling for so long that a receptionist reached up to wave above me, I calmly walked around the shop, selecting the best dresses available and gathering them up in my arms.
Once I had enough, I carefully placed them all in the middle of the floor in a tidy bundle.
I nodded in satisfaction, brushed down my skirt and turned around.
A moment later–
Darkness took me as I collapsed.
There is no going back ........... unless she starts punting tabby cats .........