The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

Man. Why is it most vampires nowadays are putting on an act, trying to act out nobility? Like, your a blood drinking monster, not a minor noble. Act like a monster!

You think vampires are feared and respected because they used to be counts, marques, and Dukes? No, they used to be Big Deals, the monster who made you cower in your homes at night.

Disappointing.
 
Chapter 369: Ice And Blood
A metallic scent filled the air.

For a moment, the blood ran thick from the vampire's hand as though squeezing a blade. But much like his head, the droplets failed to find the floor. They spread outwards instead. A viscous stream of ribbons caught in an invisible gale, before assuming the twisted visage of a great claw ready to snap to a close.

A heartbeat later–

"Hieee?!"

All I saw was a rush of crimson crushing the air overhead.

A pair of hands tugged my ankles from underneath and promptly slid me off the dining table. The landing was the least delicate thing I'd experienced since the last time Coppelia had nudged my waist with her large key in the middle of the night. Which was far too often.

However, the lap I found the back of my head on was rather comfortable.

I was surprised.

I expected little of common pyjamas. But my librarian had chosen her formalwear for a reason.

Firstly to earn the indignation of her fellow nobility as they realised that only she as a countess of a past fashion cycle had an excuse to wear it. And secondly to ensure my eyes were allowed a brief respite from needing to look at a far more unworthy vampire.

Fortunately, she wasn't the only diligent member of my personal entourage. And so I raised my gaze to see Coppelia hard at work on ensuring that the brief respite became something more permanent.

Her graceful form twirled like a ballerina in the air.

Nimbly avoiding the vampire's magic, all she had for him was an intrigued smile. And also the scythe raised above her shoulder.

"Ooooh~ that's a new one! Show me again!"

Yes.

Far from feeling dismayed over her failure to poke a vampire's head while it rolled across the floor, it simply allowed her the opportunity to try again. And between a vampire's reservoir of blood and Coppelia's well of enthusiasm, only one would deplete first.

Her golden, fluffy hair lifted to reveal the rare sight of her forehead as she dived.

Shadows trailed behind the glimmering blade of her scythe. And then only her enthusiasm could be seen as she plummeted past the tightened claw and swept out her weapon, ready to finalise the almost headless state of her opponent.

… At least until a pinky shot out.

Pooomph!

With a single flick, the conjured claw sent Coppelia through the same window we'd tossed all the unwanted furniture. An added hole in the shape of her ankles and rosy pink shoes now completed the wall around it.

I was horrified.

"H-How dare you!" I said, sitting up from my librarian's lap. "Coppelia is not to be discarded! Unlike your dining chairs, she is the picture of colour coordination! … I demand that you retrieve her at once!"

The vampire narrowed his crimson eyes at me.

The ones still upside-down.

He waved his wrist and the summoned claw of blood vanished. I hardly saw why. It'd be useful while he was gathering together everything else out there.

"I wish to offer my most sincere apologies," he said, failing to embolden his lie by grovelling with his detached head. Instead, the strands of blood reattached it to his neck. "I've had a moment of reflection. It took my head being severed to realise my rudeness."

"Well, I shall offer your head as many epiphanies as you like! To send Coppelia through a window is appalling! This isn't Ouzelia where a cart of hay is waiting to catch her! … What if she lands in a puddle?"

"Then I suppose I'd simply need to offer more apologies. I mistook the clockwork doll for a mosquito. As a vampire, I've a somewhat low tolerance for other things sucking my blood."

"In that case, I suggest you apologise to the mosquitoes as well! No insect deserves to taste your lack of manners–why, that is a foulness which seeps into every bite!"

The vampire wrinkled his nose.

"Indeed. Here I was, concerned about my image. And yet what poor impression do I make if I dismiss my guests by murdering them as though they were postmen arriving after midday? No, I shall do it slowly instead. My congratulations. You have earned a lifetime of excruciating pain."

Ugh.

I couldn't roll my eyes far enough. It wasn't just his attire. Even his threats came from a wardrobe so old even the dust had wrinkles.

"Please. I'm a princess. My life is pain."

A pause met my words.

"Girl. I understand you've little genuine wish to entertain any words I as a being of concentrated nefariousness has to say. But that statement is objectively incorrect."

"Only because you're not a princess. After all, only one who understands the joy of a pillow catapult knows the pain of losing it. That means I need to occasionally wander outside to do away with any layabouts who threaten to undo my sister's finest invention."

The vampire frowned, having never experienced true convenience on demand before.

"I am not a layabout," he declared, wriggling slightly in lieu of actually being able to straighten his back more. "Do you have any notion of how eternally busy I am? I'm a vampire. This means that for every calamity which has ever occurred, I have been involved in."

"Yes, I imagine that every child to have ever tripped over a carefully placed stick on the ground stood no chance. The schemes you've spent centuries devising are truly devastating."

A hint of a fang showed as a fresh grimace presented itself.

"I do not place sticks on the ground, girl. I erase the ground. Entire kingdoms have been reduced to nothing but a blackened crater and mournful whispers in the wind."

"My, is that so? Then I owe you an apology. Clearly, your attire and lack of class has been causing depopulation wherever you go. Is this why you chose a forest for your hovel? Only man eating fire beetles and ruffians to judge you?"

"There is nothing to judge. Least of all my well-tailored attire."

"No. Least of all is your furniture. That weeps the loudest. I must commend you on the unified attack against my eyes. To wear breeches indistinguishable from ballet tights while also boasting cabinets chiselled by termites is a crafty thing."

"Everything I own is chosen based on centuries of experience!"

The vampire had the nerve to look legitimately indignant.

I responded as etiquette demanded. With a hand barely covering my smile.

"Ohohohoho! … Experience in what, exactly? Being relentlessly mocked? Why, it's little wonder why you choose to hide in the shadows! People can only see your fangs and not your lack of good taste!"

My beautiful laughter echoed in the surrounding woodlands. Somewhere, a barn owl took to the sky, having now heard the highlight of this exchange.

It certainly wasn't the vampire's tongue clicking.

"Not that this matters … but I have recently awoken after successfully bringing down an empire. And this manor is distinctly not where I wanted to be. Everything that you see from my garments to the wardrobe which holds it was gathered together at very short notice."

"Please. Lacking organisational skills is hardly an excuse. If I can wake up and find my bathtub prepared, clothes arranged and a line of servants hurrying away with sweat dripping down their brows, then so can a vampire."

"I have many skills, Princess. All of them enough to ensure you to never enjoy a night's peaceful slumber again. But I cannot conjure good servants."

"Why not? You have wings, time and magic. How is it possible that you lack the funds necessary to hire or coerce those without any standards whatsoever? Are you that tragic of a schemer?"

"I am an excellent schemer," declared the vampire with a jab of his finger. "It is my very occupation. My unlife's calling. And I do not need to cite my wildly long list of achievements merely to satisfy my dignity against the churlish insults of a girl who doesn't realise the fate which now awaits her."

He paused.

"Unless you wish–"

"I do not, no."

"Fine." The vampire wrinkled his nose. "Have it your way, then. It matters not. You may witness an example of my work first-hand. That will be your first inkling of the aforementioned pain."

"I've witnessed more than enough. While your demeanour is lacking, your sense for mischief is not. Because of you, my farmers are absent from the fields they should be tending to even though nothing more needs to be done but let them grow."

A look of puzzlement came across the vampire.

"... Who?"

"My farmers." I pointed to the side. "The peasants you've deliberately roiled."

"Yes? What about them?"

"What do you mean … what about them? They should be preparing for the summer harvest. They're now instead protesting, drunk or drunkenly protesting on account of your actions."

The vampire simply stared.

After a moment, he scratched his chin.

"... Are they now? How useful. Perhaps I can use that."

"Excuse me?" My mouth widened in horror. "Are you suggesting you didn't know that my peasants are practically one step away from raising their pitchforks in the wrong direction?"

"Quite so. I had no idea whatsoever. This is a delightful surprise. Your subjects must already be deeply unsatisfied with your family's rule if they're protesting just because I've ordered a few groups of brigands to hound them slightly more than usual."

I gasped.

"How dare you! Their joy is as golden as the wheat which laps at their sweat! The only reason for their complaints is that you're preventing them from seeing their efforts rewarded!"

"I see. Then my desire to see your kingdom turned into even more of an indistinguishable ruin has been blessed with a head start. Once I get around to it."

I placed my hand to my ear.

"... Come again?"

"My scheme hasn't actually begun, you see."

"I don't understand. What have you possibly been doing if not scheming?"

The vampire gave a short chuckle. The lines on his face barely creased.

"Girl. I am a vampire. I do things at my own pace. And as irrelevant as your kingdom is, even the smallest course comes with an appetiser. This is merely a bonus stage before I envelop every window under the glare of a blood moon. I'm embellishing one of my characters."

"Your characters."

"The Pale Knight, to be exact. One of my less known aliases. I created him on a whim. It's been several centuries since I last did anything with him, but I feel there's opportunity for something unique. First, however, I need to raise his profile. Gruesomely slaying a few hundred knights after honour compels them to each foolishly duel me one at a time will do for a start."

I could only stare in horror.

A sight which made the vampire almost assume a genuine smile.

Indeed … for what he said was beyond my wildest fears. Few things were more appalling than inciting my peasants into a budding rebellion. But this was one of them.

I could scarcely believe it.

Why … I'd come all this way, bereft of cake, sweets and crêpes … for a vampire who was so beyond hopeless that the closest he achieved to success was by sheer accident!

Not only had he inconvenienced me … but he hadn't even the politeness to do it with feeling!

The absolute nerve of this scoundrel!

"Yes, Your Highness," he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "It is as you fear. The gallant souls who have come to defeat this imposter of a knight will find only their dooms. All of your kingdom's finest warriors will spend themselves against me, never knowing that against a master vampire, their steel is as useful as the rolls of parchment I've sent out declaring my presence."

I offered a nod, seeing that enough was enough.

As a schemer, this vampire was an abject failure. But when it came to leeching all thoughts of basic decorum, he was exemplary.

"Very well. It seems I was vastly mistaken about your competency. Something I didn't believe was possible. In that case, I shall assist you with raising your profile by personally adding my voice."

"Oh? And what will you say?"

"That depends on you. There's a number of choices available. Walk into a stake, hurl yourself into a cathedral or wait for me to finish building my 99 floor dungeon so that you may be the first to test it. Whichever you choose, I will embellish your demise to make it even more embarrassing."

The smirk faded.

"How charming. To remain belligerent as your last coherent words before they become the usual sobbing. Sadly, there is an order to things. Before I can instil in you the meaning of regret, I first need to do it for the young countess. Now, if you wish for the coming experience to be slightly less horrendous, then kindly remove yourself from the lap of my vampire so I can thoroughly chastise her."

I glanced behind me.

There, wearing an unremitting scowl even as her hands played with my hair, was a librarian whose bearing was higher than any other vampire–regardless of her pink pyjamas or the fact she was sitting underneath a table.

"I have heard more than enough from you," she said simply.

"So you say. And yet I merely wish to offer my gratitude. I see you're clearly responsible for bringing this princess to me. Granted, she makes for a poor apology gift. You should have at least bound her mouth. Her candour is highly unappetising. Nevertheless, I'm grateful you've returned."

Miriam gently nudged me.

She shifted forwards. And as my pillow rose, so too did I.

"My return is brief. As is yours. Although I enjoy reading without eye strain, it was a mistake to allow you to be the one to offer me that benefit. I will not permit others to make that same mistake."

The master leech paused.

He appraised the sincerity before him. And he could find no fault.

"... Is that so? And what will you do, Countess Estroux? Something blasphemous again?"

"No. Holy magic makes me feel ill."

"Of course it does," he snapped, his hand flicking in grief. "What vampire draws holy runes? Not only is it appalling, but it's also utterly ineffectual. If that's all you wish to achieve, then why not waste your regular magic upon me?"

"Because I need to wait first."

"Wait? Wait for–"

"[Moonlit Flutter]."

Blinking into existence, Coppelia appeared behind the vampire with her scythe already in motion.

Now several leaves in her hair from whatever tree she'd landed in, she wore a zany smile as the silver edge of her weapon swept unerringly towards the neck once more. It found only a whip of blood drawn from a fingertip, immediately lashing out to entangle itself like vines upon the sweeping scythe.

He'd reacted even before he could turn to look.

When he did, it was with a snort.

"Did you truly think I would fall for that again?"

Coppelia's smile only brightened.

It was enough to give the vampire pause. After all, even if the shadows enshrouding her weapon managed to dim the stars, they failed to hide her enthusiasm.

"Yep," she answered.

A moment later–

"[Flash Freeze]."

Miriam's hands flared with an icy sheen. The blood creeping across the scythe froze. And the eyes of a rodent widened as though caught sneaking out from its own hole.

Especially as Coppelia wrenched her weapon away.

"Alrighty! Time to see where you keep all the blood~"

She swung once again.

But this time, it wasn't a whip of blood which met her guillotining effort.

"[Sanguine Dianthus]."

It was a crimson flower as wide as a shield.

Her scythe was practically absorbed into the petals. Yet any hope of anchoring the blade in place was promptly erased when the blood stilled once again, the crimson flower turning crystalline as a layer of frost took hold of it.

"[Flash Freeze]."

Then, all that could be seen was a slight quivering as Coppelia's hands gripped the handle of her scythe. The vampire frowned at the sight. And then doubly so at the crack which appeared.

The magic faltered–just before shattering.

Broken beneath the weight of ice and strength, Coppelia's scythe drove itself towards a vampire whose dreams of a better hovel faded along with a spiteful hiss as he shifted into ethereal mist. He hovered for a moment. A thing worth less an odour before he reappeared on the balcony overlooking the former dining chamber.

The expression he wore was of utter distaste.

In short … the exact opposite of mine!

Indeed, for as I looked upon my loyal handmaiden readying her scythe and my loyal librarian preparing her magic, I was overcome with emotion!

My hands covered my mouth at the sight of my retainers working in tandem for the simple task of litter removal. And I knew I could not sit idly back and do nothing.

"Ohohohohohoho!! Onwards, Coppelia! Go forth, Countess Miriam! You have my blessing! Use any underhanded methods that you desire! Remember–everything is chivalrous in defence of a princess!"

"Got it! Perfectly legal attack, here we go~!"

Coppelia beamed as she leapt to meet the grimacing vampire.

She never made it.

Fwooooosh.

Instead, a virulent barrier of blood erected itself around the vampire's form, steeped with so much malevolence that its very aura did more than the magic itself. Coppelia was physically thrust backwards by an invisible wave, twirling as she went.

The blood lashed like a boiling puddle.

And this time, no frost could still it.

However–

Even if nothing could be seen of the vampire hiding within, that didn't stop a pair of blackened wings from bursting out from the sides like a creature freeing itself from a cocoon.

As the cracks began to form, a single word was uttered towards us.

"Disappointing."
 
Man. Why is it most vampires nowadays are putting on an act, trying to act out nobility? Like, your a blood drinking monster, not a minor noble. Act like a monster!

You think vampires are feared and respected because they used to be counts, marques, and Dukes? No, they used to be Big Deals, the monster who made you cower in your homes at night.

Disappointing.

Vampires are just jesters who never got fired ... !
 
Chapter 370: Dusk To Dawn
For as long as there have been whispers, there have also been vampires.

As the original harbingers of doom just before a certain receptionist had claimed the title, they were to kingdoms what caterpillars were to my orchard. It mattered little whether they came alone or as a squirming colony.

Just a single one was enough.

And then all that was green became withered.

More insatiable than Coppelia and Apple combined, their appetites for destruction knew no bounds.

They were masters of both shadow and death. Because what liches and hedgehogs could only achieve through tearing out their own soul, vampires accomplished by cursing theirs.

I understood little about the forbidden magic involved. But all knew the promises garnered in return.

After all–they were the ones who espoused them.

Unbound strength. Flight. Blood magic. Immortality.

But most of all, the ability to dismiss all thoughts of empathy.

They were the rulers of the night. The crimson plague upon cities. The rumour which even the darkness feared. And yet despite all that had ever been murmured about them in tavern corners, the truth was that every word was an understatement.

Because right now–

Fwoooooooosh.

I could only step back and gasp, hands covering my mouth as I viewed the figure sweeping into the air.

A true vampire unmasked.

Gone was the impression of a man who dreamed of scheming in the sewers of my royal capital.

Now, even the least of my nobility would at least offer a cough before opting to work with him.

A great pair of wings stretched out from his back, lifting him to where a ceiling once lay. Tinged with the hue of hellfire, it bore closer resemblance to the wings of a horned devil than any bat.

No longer beholden to thoughts of subtlety, his lips stretched into the impression of a smirk.

What was revealed were fangs as sharp as the new ridges of his cheeks and brows. His judging eyes burned with unholy flames. And white hair fell like a ghostly veil all the way past his waist.

Then, he raised a hand.

Droplets of blood rushed towards him, dancing around his wrist like petals caught in a breeze before forming the shape of a rose. He crushed it, the blood dribbling to the floor and smouldering through both the wooden panels and the earth beneath it.

He was more gaunt now. More monstrous. More prideful.

But most of all … he was wearing an entirely new outfit.

Yes.

He'd taken my criticisms to heart.

Gone was the overly fitting garb of before. Now he wore a dull surcoat long enough to hide whatever travesty was still underneath, legwear which was almost not wildly inappropriate and slippers which looked like they'd only been stolen from a sleeping orphan.

I could only feel myself reeling backwards, stunned at this unspoken power.

Why, he could change his attire on demand!

What … What a wonderful skill!!

Why didn't I have that?! Changing anything I wore was a marathon affair as servants took turns on account of the sweat dribbling upon their fingertips!

I had no wish to be a vampire, true … but if I could at least learn this skill, the hassle saved would make this entire affair all worth it!

"How very disappointing," said the vampire, the unnaturalness of his smirk threatening to shear the skin off his cheeks. "So much so, that I can only find amusement in this."

His wings raised him a few inches higher, framing him against the ever darkening sky.

Despite his sneer aimed towards us, there was no doubting where his gaze was centred.

"You managed to impress me, Miriam, if only for a moment. To stand tall made me feel an emotion akin to a father's pride. And so I experience the same grief to see that relying on others is the extent of your powers. Truly, did you think that freezing my magic was enough? If I wished to, I could make my blood boil so hot that you would be scalded just for trying. But I've no desire to harm you. After all, you are my responsibility. And so I shall take it upon myself to offer the tuition you sorely need instead … beginning by impressing upon you the true meaning of being a vampire. I believe these example subjects will do just fine. This will be a rare lesson. But then again, I do not often have an audience I deem worthy of wordswordswordswords …"

As the vampire exceeded his allotted speech time, I turned to my librarian.

"Can you do that?" I asked, pointing in all curiousness.

She blinked at me.

"Do you mean gloat?"

"No, I mean change your wardrobe." I paused. "But can you gloat … ?"

"Only in great need. And not very well. I'm not naturally predisposed towards it."

"Is that so? Well, no need to worry–that can easily be fixed! But what about the sudden change of attire? Is it a technique? Magic? Learnable?"

"Um … I'm not too certain. It seems to be part of Master Harkus's awakening into his higher vampiric form. It's possible I could do it, but it would doubtless require a substantial amount of blood. That would be the same for anyone hoping to learn it."

I let out a small groan.

Of all the things I could ring my servant's bell to have delivered to me, blood wasn't one of them. Within moments, I'd have nobility attempting to scheme with me instead of against me.

Especially if they believed I would entertain monologues so long-winded they looped back to the beginning.

"–I am Master Harkus of Revarin. Scion of Darkness. He of a Hundred Names, yet known for a thousand calamities. I have spread my legend from the sands to the snows. I am the Sovereign of the Eternal Night. The Herald of Schemes. Bringer of the Black Dawn. A team player. Highly attentive to detail and also open to further progression. And what you shall witness now is only a … a …"

The vampire paused at my raised palm.

"Yes?" he said, his burning eyes narrowing with impatience.

"Excuse me, but where do you keep the building material?"

"What?"

"I have plans to turn this site into a 99 floor dungeon. I've already made a head start, but I'd like to do more while I'm here. If you have any bricks that you'd reserved for use in repairing the damage from Countess Miriam's fire, then I would deeply appreciate knowing where."

The vampire stared at me.

"I am about to make a fantastical display of unnecessary violence. And you're asking me about bricks?"

"Yes."

"I see … are you perhaps deliberately attempting to earn my ire? Or is this simply how you choose to conduct sobbing and huddling when seeing a higher vampire you should be very concerned about?"

I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.

"Ohhohohoho … a higher vampire? How cute."

A mouth widened in outrage.

I held up my palm once more. I wasn't done.

"I'm afraid all I see is a leech which has managed to sprout wings. And while that's undoubtedly the finest achievement you'll ever know, it also means you've failed to grow the requisite scales, extra limbs, tail or stomach capable of igniting flames needed in order to earn a fragment of my concern."

His arms flayed outwards, blood petals sweeping into the distance.

"Do you think my fangs are a prop, girl? I am death itself–as I shall gladly demonstrate for both yours and Miriam's much needed education. My congratulations for accelerating my itinerary. I only hope to salvage a smidgeon of entertainment before I vacate this featureless wasteland."

"Then you're in luck. I'm here to renovate all of said featureless wasteland that you've illegally built. And my 99 floor dungeon is hiring. I'll even allow you to be the first challenge–although it might prove slightly distressing once you realise that even the common burglars who wander inside prove significantly more witty than yourself."

A wrinkled nose was all I received.

For a moment, the vampire's cheeks twitched, torn between defending his pride or accepting my very generous offer to install him as the starter obstacle in my kingdom's latest infrastructure project.

Instead … he raised his palms above his head.

"Then feel free to suggest improvements," he said, his eyes flaring. "[Vermillion Rupture]."

Immediately, a shrill breeze swept over us, followed by an orb of sickly blood formed between his hands, pulsing like a withered heart.

Then … the evening sky darkened entirely.

Like a brush of paint upon a canvas, a sweep of inky midnight appeared behind him. It was broken only by the magic conjured between his palms. A circle of scarlet akin to a blood moon, yet lacking the howls which should have immediately followed it.

"... Behold, the night of nights," declared the vampire with casual indifference. "A bit more brusque than my usual methods, but sometimes, a more direct reminder of who I am is needed lest some farmer accidentally names a puppy after me. So do watch carefully. Those in this kingdom will have the opportunity to see this many times. But you will only have the chance once."

He let out a quiet chuckle just loud enough for me to hear it.

All I had for him was confusion.

"… Is that it?"

"Hm?"

"Is that the spell you intend to use? A ball of blood magic? What does it do?"

"Well, it does exactly as you'd imagine. Indiscriminate destruction as I rain death down upon your towns and cities."

He gave a shameless smile.

I was in utter disbelief.

"Did … Did I hear that right? You're just going to … throw balls of magic?"

"Well, yes."

I waited for the explanation.

It didn't come.

"... Excuse me?! What happened to you being the Herald of Schemes?!"

"My apologies, Your Highness. But the Herald of Schemes is reserved exclusively for more suitable locales. If it makes you feel any better, I did earnestly attempt to consider how best I could stretch out the subjugation of your kingdom. However, a piece of dough can only go so far and trying too hard will only make me look bad. Thus, I will do the next best thing to raise my reputation. Simple, wholesale destruction. No conniving. No manoeuvring in the shadows. Just blood magic in a large ball, repeated as needed. Other than your personal suffering, the demise of your kingdom will be swift and utterly without fanfare."

I was aghast.

Why, this unrepentant hoodlum!

He called himself a vampire! And yet he didn't even have the courtesy to spend centuries plotting just to come up with something at the level of sticking his ankle out when a rival was skipping past!

This wasn't just a breach of etiquette! It was pure laziness!

"Uwaah~" Coppelia nodded fervently. "That's amazing! He wants to out [Ball Of Doom] you!"

"C-Coppelia! There is no such thing as a [Ball Of Doom]! … And if there was, it certainly isn't that! I will not allow this utter lack of effort to pass!"

Indeed, it was spellwork so casual that it was akin to a mage throwing fireballs! Yet as effective as that was for burning rooftops, nobody ever called it original!

This was a travesty!

"What you allow is meaningless," said the vampire, as the utterly ordinary orb of magic only slightly grew between his palms. "Sadly for yourself, there is none amongst your party with the means to overly trouble me. And so I mark the end by saying this has certainly not been a pleasure."

Despite his words, his wings flapped to take him higher.

… But not high enough.

That was the realm of angels and also things tossed through the window. And while punting a chair was very much an option when dealing with common hoodlums, for this particular one, I had a more bespoke solution in mind.

After all–

This vampire may have no standards. But I very much did.

"Very well, then!" I said, turning beside me with a nod. "... Coppelia! I require your assistance."

"Oooh, oooh!! Got it, I'll start making a mailbox!~"

"What? No, I don't need a mailbox … yet. Rather, I simply wish to continue conversing with the flying ruffian from an appropriate angle. With my boot of authority peering down at him."

"Great! What do you have in mind?"

"Do you remember the thing with the duck?"

"Sure do!"

"Well, it's now my turn. I need that."

Coppelia blinked at me.

A thousand questions appeared on her face. None of which she asked.

Miriam stared between the two of us.

"Excuse me?" she asked with a quizzical tilt of her head. "What is the … thing with the duck?"

I chose not to answer.

It wasn't necessary. Not when she'd know in approximately 5 seconds.

"Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Coppelia raised her arms in joy … just before leaning forwards and wrapping them around my waist.

"This. Is. Amazing! I never thought you'd let me tick off #37 on the bucket list!"

I pursed my lips, suddenly feeling a tinge of regret.

Not least because any idea which coincided with something on Coppelia's bucket list was something which maybe, just possibly required a second opinion.

"Actually, Coppelia, I've decided to–"

"Hup~"

Without waiting, my loyal handmaiden hopped up to the balcony with me in tow.

More surefooted than any dancer in a troupe, she immediately hopped again, jumping upon the remaining walls of the hovel as she made her way up the floors. The fact that this was already enough to make me feel vertigo was something I chose to ignore.

Especially since I had no choice regarding what was to come.

Nor, indeed, the vampire whose wings weren't flapping quite hard enough.

His eyes widened in genuine bewilderment as Coppelia jumped onto the frame of the nearest chimney, now only a short distance below him.

"What … What are you–"

"Alrighty!" Coppelia beamed as she swung her arms. "Here we go! … [Coppelia Throw]!"

And just like that, the Emergency Protocol Princess Propeller Device™ (Coppelia Edition) was made.

"–Hiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!"

Without once hesitating, or indeed, querying if this was exactly what I wanted, my loyal handmaiden proceeded to toss me high into the sky.

For a moment, all I saw were the eyes of a vampire widening to the size of dinner plates as I took my rightful place as a glowing angel far … far above him.

I admired the differing shades in the sky as I drew Starlight Grace from my side. For while a blanket of night still sought to gather above me, here just beneath the heavens, dusk had yet to disappear over the horizon.

The ebbing sun offered a wink. And so I returned it with a smile.

"Thank you for allowing me to hire my librarian," I said to the gawping vampire below. "For that, I shall do you the courtesy of reminding you what you have missed in life. So watch the dawn which never falters, scattering the whispering night. Gardening Form, 10th​ Stance … [Winter Sunlight Extender]!"

Raising my sword, I caught the sunlight upon my blade.

The vampire reacted at once.

It was still too late.

"Wait, don't–"

Angling Starlight Grace, a bright glimmer reflected upon its mirror sheen.

And then I began to swish, widening the surface as a pillar of sunlight was promptly sent down upon the vampire desperately seeking to plummet away.

All I saw of him was a bursting of flames.

"NNNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHRRRRRRHHHHHHH!!!!"

A joyful scream filled the air as the wonders of sunlight visited the pale skin of the vampire below.

Fortunately for him, there was more to come.

Both from the sun and the only thing which shone even brighter. My beautiful smile.

"Ohohohohohohohoohohohoho!!"

Here it was!

A delicate gardening technique designed for when daylight hours were sparse and even my most hardy snowdrops failed to thrive!

By leaning outside the window of my bedroom tower and angling my sword, I could maximise the amount of sunlight my orchard received!

And if this was simply to ensure my camellias didn't lose themselves beneath the harshness of a frigid and overcast morning, I would stop at this. A bout of sunlight in winter like a sprinkle of water in summer, ensuring my flowerbeds knew that even if the weather had forgotten them, I had not.

Instead … I continued to swish my sword, adjusting the length of my makeshift mirror to focus the sunlight as required.

"AAARRRRRRAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

The result was immediate.

He twisted and turned as radiant flames engulfed his form. Of his face, nothing could be seen but the silhouette of a widening mouth as remorse filled the air.

A moment later, the vampire disappeared entirely. But not only from the sunlight.

He separated, becoming innumerable flames as a flock of bats took his place. Each burned with the same fury as his true form, the wings instantly catching ablaze like unsolicited letters from suitors as he desperately sought to escape.

He failed.

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

The vampire's voice filled the air, despite the lack of any lips to sound them.

It wasn't until the last of the newly wrought fireflies became nothing more than fading embers turning to falling ashes that the cry of concentrated relief ceased. A hiss like water flung upon a charred pan sounded as the night of nights simply became the most splendid evening instead.

After all, I was there to brighten it up.

Thus–I nodded in delight as I watched the last of the dying flames burned themselves out … first from above, then from eye level, then from below as the crux of the Emergency Protocol Princess Propeller Device™ made itself known.

I had yet to sprout my wings.

"Ohohohoooo–ieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!"

The twilight in the distance faded for the second time this evening. And so as the wind swept up my hair, I immediately sought to defend my dignity, arm covering my exposed forehead and hand clutching onto my skirt as I fell.

Fortunately, while my wings had yet to bloom, that didn't apply to my loyal retainers.

Fwup fwup fwup fwup fwup.

A pair of arms latched onto me.

"Hnnnnghh~"

With a glance behind my shoulder, I took in the sight of Miriam's face tightening with effort as the plummeting slowed into a gradual descent. Her little wings fluttered with all their might, aided by whatever magic was causing them to slightly glow.

"That … That was ridiculous," she said, once she adjusted her arms to make sure I wouldn't slip.

"Ohohoho!" I raised a hand to my lips … albeit very slowly so as not to jolt us. "Why, that was simply the sun obeying etiquette! When a princess calls, even the light must answer!"

I felt Miriam give a small nod.

"The light is a scary thing. But for once, I enjoyed the sight of it. Thank you for obliging me once again, Princess Juliette. I am very much grateful."

I smiled in response … all the way until I saw the figure waiting below.

A certain clockwork doll rolling upon the ground. And although little should be heard of the rabid cackling amidst the breeze rushing past my ears, her amusement still managed to rise higher than any princess in the sky.

Thus, I nodded … just before pointing elsewhere.

"I wish to land there."
 
Chapter 371: A Heroine’s Choice New
Milly Holworth had a terrible secret.

Most people who knew her probably wouldn't think so. She was a farm girl, through and through. She was even found in the same field where she worked, sowing and harvesting the wheat while occasionally smiling at the little hole Granny claimed was her makeshift cot even though she knew it was probably caused by a badger.

Moreover, she didn't really do anything which allowed her to keep secrets.

She was nice, helpful and open. She didn't hang around with the wrong crowd, wander down the wrong alleys or even butt heads with the wrong fruit slimes. Unless they were after her blackberry bushes, in which case she gently tossed them away.

By her own admission, Milly considered herself to be reasonably boring … normal, even. And that was great! Because in a world where everything had either too many claws or teeth, she liked to imagine that somebody out there appreciated the tiny amount of calm she could add to it.

Yes, Milly was utterly ordinary–with one exception.

She suffered from a problem nobody else did.

She had a stalker … and it was a sword.

Not a person. But an actual weapon.

Shiny, if sort of ordinary. The type of sword seen all the time being haggled over by adventurers and fawned over by children with hopes of becoming said adventurers. Which really didn't make sense. But she didn't make the rules.

And as far as she knew, nobody else did, either.

All she knew was that she couldn't get away from it.

When she was harvesting wheat, it was there. When she was brushing her teeth in the morning, it was there. When she was waking up in bed and rolling to the cooler side of her pillow, it was there, already taking up the side she wanted.

It didn't matter whether she was working, eating or sleeping. That sword was always there. In her field. In her sink. In her bed. Just lying there, bright and new.

All except for a little scribble on the blade.


Made in Ouzelia.


Why a sword from a realm so far away was buried in her field, Milly had no idea.

And at first, she hadn't given it much thought.

It was just a slighter weirder than usual object found with all the other weird things people liked tossing in her workplace. And unlike the wheels of carriages she sometimes found and used for a wheelbarrow, she didn't really have much use for a sword.

Thus, she did what any normal girl in her position would do.

She stuffed it into a sack and forgot about it.

There was a harvest to get ready for and as shiny as it was, it wasn't better than a sickle for wheat.

Except that she didn't quite forget about it.

Because every now and again, she'd suddenly remember about the thing like an errand she had to run. Or rather, an itch she needed to take care of. Except there wasn't anything she needed scratching using a sword. And so she did the next best thing.

She sold it.

The blacksmith in Wessin Bridge was happy to have it. And if he melted it down, then all the better.

There was no need for Milly to have a sword when her pitchfork could ward away the younger wolves which hadn't learned to keep away just as well. And so that was the last of it.

At least–until it showed up on her doorstep the next day.

When the blacksmith informed her that someone had pilfered it in the night, that was when Milly started worrying. But it wasn't until it kept coming back that the worrying turned to pure sweating. Especially since the blacksmith was starting to look very cross with her.

Even so, no matter what she did, she couldn't get rid of it.

Whether it was giving it away or tossing it to the bottom of a well filled with gunk, a lake patrolled by strangler crabs or a cave populated by giant ember hornets, the sword would always be there, lying on her doorstep or hogging up her bed.

Normally, Milly shut her eyes to it while pretending everything was normal.

But normally, she also wasn't hiding from a vampire by covering herself in mud. Because if half the tales she'd heard about vampires were true, then dying was the least of her problems.

So for once, she was glad for her persistent admirer.

It was needed to help stab the guy who'd kidnapped her during supper. Or at least poke him really hard. Because while violence really wasn't the sort of thing she liked to do, on this one occasion, she felt the sort of conviction which children who begged passing adventurers for stories did.

A wish to do right.

She owed two lives worth of gratitude.

First to a different, nicer vampire wearing cute cotton pyjamas … then to an S-rank adventurer who was both so pretty and young that Milly had felt like hiding herself with more mud.

Which of the two coming to her rescue she found more unlikely, she had no idea.

All she knew was that she was strangely calm about the whole thing.

Maybe not so much at the beginning. But there was only so much lunacy she could see outside her front door before it all started becoming the same shade of sobs and snot. Which was probably for the best. Her body definitely needed some of that stuff. And although she still felt like ejecting it all out when she remembered to be horrified, her heart would calm whenever she gripped the hilt of a sword she'd never once held before in earnest.

At least not until now.

Milly Holworth's tale wasn't done.

She could feel it in her bones. Literally. Her legs practically moved on their own as she sought to return the way she came, a nonchalant dairy cow following closely behind.

Because those who saved her would need saving in turn.

It wasn't exactly going to be the entrance of a lifetime. But she knew she still had to be there.

That was her purpose.

No longer did she feel the need to throw away, sell or glare at her sword when it showed up in her bathtub while she was naked.

This time, its presence felt right. Its weight more fitting than any pitchfork in her hands.

Although almost being eaten by a vampire had shaved away several years of her life, she'd discovered something else in turn. Courage enough to overflow. A warmth which shone through the bits of mud still caking her. So while she could flee, she could also fight.

Milly knew in her heart of hearts that she was meant to destroy that vampire.

It had chosen her for a reason. And so had fate.

The sword glowed in her hand. A brightness which dispelled the fog as she waded forth like a crusader in the night. Conviction flared in her maiden's heart as the weight of evil thickened in the air.

Because as the faces of those she knew and loved flashed through her mind, so too did memories she could not recall. Of battles hard fought and won. Of villains cursing and spluttering as they collapsed. Of dark abodes cleansed and filled with life and flowers.

With a deep breath, Milly burst through the line of trees and knew what must be done–

"Ohohohohohohohoohohohoho!!"

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Instead … she just stood there and gawped, arms by her side as she craned her neck upwards.

There in the youthful night sky was a sight which Milly had been spared even when at the vampire's mercy. A set of crude wings sprouting forth from his back, lifting him high like a devil pulled straight from a book of nightmares.

With an aura so foul it tainted all thoughts of joy, he boasted fangs cruel enough to sink into the world itself.

They were very obvious.

"AAARRRRRRAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

After all … his mouth was wide open, his eyes horrified as a heavenly pillar of light struck him.

Milly watched as the flames consumed the vampire.

But only for a moment. Because despite the sight of evil literally burning in the sky, it was the girl responsible who shone the brightest.

She hovered in the air like a second sun as a beam of scorching light poured forth from her sword. A scene so insane that any barkeeper would refuse her any more drinks.

Milly knew the girl had to be strong.

She was the highest ranked of adventurers. Yet nothing in any tale had ever prepared her for the idea of someone her age doing something which she couldn't achieve even in her most lucid dream.

And so as the vampire turned to ashes … it was the dimming sword in Milly's hand which fell first.

Her moment of heroism gone and spent, the village girl quietly retreated back to the nearest tree where a cow awaited. The farm animal gave her a gentle nudge, then left her to quietly sit in silence as she blinked into the freshly cleared darkness.

She was utterly stunned.

There was no reason not to celebrate, of course. The less she had to do, the better.

In fact, thinking about it, she really didn't know what'd taken hold of her. She didn't know how to use a sword. More importantly, she didn't know how to kill a vampire.

Even so, the strangest feeling gripped her, as though she'd lost something very important.

A blankness veiled her mind, and through a muted sense of relief, she couldn't help but feel akin to a piece of flotsam suddenly adrift at sea.

Milly wasn't sure how long she sat there.

But it was long enough for the sounds of commotion to fade, and for a shadow to appear over her.

"Greetings," said the vampire in pink pyjamas, leaning forwards with a blink of her eyes. "My apologies for disturbing you. I noted your presence and wished to offer my gratitude. I understand you are responsible for ensuring I wasn't discovered after our escape."

Milly stared.

Even though she'd briefly exchanged words with her, she realised now that she still had no idea who she was. Or why she'd helped. Or how come she was on good terms with an adventurer. Or the reason she wasn't sucking her blood.

There were more questions that she had room in her mouth to form.

But in the end, there was only one thing she really needed to know.

"It's okay," she replied simply. "You saved me too. I'm Milly. Nice to meet you, Miss … ?"

"Countess Miriam Estroux."

"Oh."

She was the lady type.

Milly suddenly felt apologetic. She really couldn't tell. Unlike with the adventurer girl.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear her somewhat concerning laughter. Although she had few encounters with the local baroness, she imagined that if she laughed, it would sound something like that.

"Are you injured?" asked the vampire, her tone soft and sleepy. "If so, I can fly you towards the nearest chapel. I'd need to leave you several miles outside, but I'm certain my presence would draw any nearby sisters to your aid."

"No, um, I'm not injured … I think. I'm just a bit … yeah."

"Ah, of course. To be kidnapped by a master vampire is a truly harrowing affair. But you need not fear now. Although other creatures await in the darkness, they are less cruel. When your time comes, it will be swift and sudden."

The vampire tilted her head slightly, then her lips twitched as she attempted to perform a kind smile.

Milly smiled back.

"Thanks. I needed that. Although it's not really the whole almost dying thing which gets to me, oddly enough. It's more the fact that I didn't do anything to help."

"That is simply untrue. By preventing harm from coming to me, you have assisted the kingdom in more ways than you can imagine. The world of literature would be in a poorer place."

"Oh … right. In that case, that's good."

The vampire nodded … then leaned in slightly more.

"Are you certain you're not injured?"

"Yeah, I think I'm okay. I just need a moment. I mean, I saw the pretty girl sort of bring down the sun on someone. And it's making me feel weird things."

"That's a common reaction. Her methods are nothing if not illuminating."

Milly nodded.

Then, she paused for a moment.

"It was more than that. It was, well … so bright that I'm sort of wondering what I'm doing. What I should be doing. This is going to sound a bit silly, but I was actually planning on helping you kill that vampire."

"That doesn't sound silly at all."

"Thanks."

"Only suicidal. You were fortunate to have failed."

Milly's smile turned several shades of awkward, having utterly no defence.

"Mmh. I'm pretty sure I'd have only gotten in the way. I guess I just wanted to do something dumb. It's sort of embarrassing. I had this moment of clarity–and now I feel a bit empty. Still, I'm really happy that guy's gone. It means I can get back to the farm. To do farm stuff. And so can everybody else. That's great!"

The vampire studied her for a moment.

Then, she glanced down at the dimmed sword by her side. She considered it with a hum.

"To work the fields is a noble cause," she said. "There's no reason to feel unfulfilled."

"Oh yeah. I know that. I like farming. I like helping everyone around me."

"That's good. Because I also believe there's no reason to remain still. I cannot comment on any listlessness you may feel. But courage when tested is a rarer trait than cowardice. Should you wish to pursue other opportunities with the life you have, I see little reason why they should elude you."

Milly blinked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely never having considered anything else.

"It's common to seek other pursuits when the road is opened. If the thought of aiding your fellow farmers appeals to you, then there's considerable work which you might do to help them. All the more so if you already possess your own sword."

The image of Milly trawling through a cave in the desert immediately filled her mind.

An instinctive shudder ran through her.

"Are you suggesting I become an adventurer? Like that girl? … Because as exciting as that is, I actually have a little brother I still need to take care of."

"Is that so?" The vampire tilted her head slightly. "Then there's a simpler option available to you. In my opinion, if you wish to wield a sword to defend those close at home, then you should consider speaking with the Wessin Bridge garrison."

"Huh?"

"To offer your courage for the kingdom is the most efficient and practical way of defending those you care for. Guards are always welcomed. And unless things have changed in the past 200 years, the kingdom's royal army recruits locally. Should you not wish to be posted elsewhere due to familial concerns, then I'd be surprised if there was no agreed practice to allow you to remain until your dependents are of age. It is something worth considering."

Milly was stunned.

It was something she'd never thought about before.

Not only because fighting wasn't something she ever knew she'd want to take part in … but also because the kingdom didn't really have a fantastic reputation around these parts.

The Wessin Bridge's focus was always on the travellers and merchants, with few guards to spare for patrolling the large amount of countryside all along the river.

In truth, there was considerable resentment for it. Even Milly herself had experienced the frustration. She was no stranger to thieves breaking into her home.

… But perhaps she could change that.

Before she knew it, an idea which had never once entered her thoughts suddenly became a spark bright enough for her to sit up just a little bit straighter.

After all, she now had a choice.

There were many roads she could walk. And although she never considered a path beyond the field where she grew up, the sword which had somehow found its way into her grasp faintly glowed again as her fingers wrapped around the hilt.

Milly Holworth nodded … smiled, then made a decision.

She'd go home and finish supper.

Then, later on, she'd inquire at the local garrison–about becoming a town guard!

… And also if she could bring her own sword.
 
Yes, Milly! Do not walk the path of the folk hero, seeking to save others and inevitably getting roped into toppling a corrupt regime at the behest of the dissatisfied masses!

Become the boot that oppresses those masses even more efficiently! They're clearly only upset at being improperly oppressed!
 
The difference between a folk hero and a town guard is one does it for free and the other is payed for by taxes.

The sheer entitlement of the common folk, expecting to be saved for free. The guilt is the cause for most of them to allow heroes to rummage around for loose coin.
 
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Yes, Milly! Do not walk the path of the folk hero, seeking to save others and inevitably getting roped into toppling a corrupt regime at the behest of the dissatisfied masses!

Become the boot that oppresses those masses even more efficiently! They're clearly only upset at being improperly oppressed!

Being a rebel sounds good until you realise they have no pension scheme. She made the right choice!
 
The difference between a fold hero and a town guard is one does it for free and the other is payed for by taxes.

The sheer entitlement of the common folk, expecting to be saved for free. The guilt is the cause for most of them to allow heroes to rummage around for loose coin.

You are correct! By choosing the path of the town guard, she will no longer fall prey to the voices of evil as they take advantage of her poverty. It's harder to bribe those on a salary than those who are penniless!
 
Chapter 372: A Princess’s Innocence New
A beautiful sight greeted me upon my return to the farm.

A stream of unbroken moonlight pouring down upon fields of golden wheat. And also the volunteers preparing to work them, shepherded by the knights who'd now decided to make their appearance.

Armoured steeds lined the dirt road in the near distance while their bearers waltzed through the fields. Except that this time, they weren't simply hiding from the fathers whose rage they'd earned.

Instead, they were busying themselves with gathering together the ruffians as they crawled from the forest like mice scurrying from a bar of soap.

A difficult task.

But not because the hoodlums were fleeing from them.

On the contrary, they were crowding around my knights like drunkards desperate for the attention of a barkeeper. Despite Coppelia generously helping to prod the ruffians into one group, it was enough to overwhelm even the bravest of my defenders.

As powerful as the musk of hair wax was, nothing was as debilitating as the odour which all common hoodlums proudly boasted.

Even so, I was delighted!

Now finally freed from the grasp of an errant vampire, the vagrants populating these forests had finally seen the error of their ways.

Granted a second chance to offer themselves to the kingdom, many were already upon their knees, their cries of relief filling the air as they practically banged on the armour of my knights.

"Please! Put me in prison! I'm begging you!"

"No, take me away first! I've done the worst crimes! Put me somewhere with the biggest walls!"

"We're doomed. We're doomed. We're doomed."

"A monster! You gotta go in there! It's … It's still around! A monster in the shape of a girl! She can fly and beam down unholy fire! You need to stop her before it's too late!"

"Please … I have this letter … give this to my daughter … then tell her to run …"

I-Indeed!

Why, they were so relieved that their memories were jumbled up, recalling events which never occurred!

Fortunately, not all of the hoodlums were busy muddying their knees.

"Haah … haaah … haaah …"

Some were muddying their hands.

There, in the only part of the wheat field to be satisfyingly level, were a group of hoodlums whose only concerns were building upon a tower of bales.

It rose magnificently. A structure imposing enough that if I could fit it with windows and a door, I could use it to mark the 99 floor dungeon I'd soon be building nearby.

Sweat dribbled from the brows as they harvested the field I'd left them to into a geometrically perfect rectangle. However, despite the joy of toil washing away their past mischief, the most pleased were the actual farmers themselves. And why not?

I had just ensured their unending productivity.

Ohohohohoho!

Indeed!

An entire forest cleared of distractions! Now there was no excuse to lounge in a cart while only waking when a royal procession woke them!

With nothing but the regular carnivorous monsters, prowling forest wolves and ravenous badgers to make anyone wonder why farming was a viable profession, I fully expected the shortcakes produced by this farm's flour to begin flowing again.

There was just one problem.

"Puh."

The glob of liquid which casually exited the orifice of the nearest farmer.

I almost fainted on the spot.

There was no communication behind it.

No meaning. No protest. No agreement.

Just a casual act of wanton destruction of etiquette, followed by a yawn, a scratch of the head and a rub of the nostrils to sweep away any speck of propriety which remained.

My hands covered my mouth. Horror beyond words or gasps filled me. All the more so as the farmer noticed my shock, then simply gave me a thumbs-up. Yet just as I was about to order my knights to arrest this vandal, I was instead greeted by the only one who technically wasn't mine.

Technically, of course, being a highly flexible word.

"Well, now," said the minotaur, offering a courteous nod as he approached. "It seems my thoughts of assisting were an exercise in hubris. I alerted what knights were sober enough to ride. But perhaps I should have brought the kegs instead. I take it you were successful in your quest?"

I offered a kindly smile in return … all the more so as his presence stopped the nearby farmer from doing something unspeakable with his nose.

"Not in the slightest. I've only ever one desire. That is to return to my orchard, where I may tend to the begonias who are sorely missing my gentle touch."

"A noble desire. To nurture life is to wound evil more than any blade could do."

"My, I agree with the sentiment. But gardening is more than simply a means to spite those who lurk in the dark. It is a method to enlighten the soul. As some here have already come to know."

The minotaur glanced at a group of hoodlums already at work with their sickles.

The ones who I'd earlier left here.

It was almost impressive. They were like squires on their first day of being a lackey. If all my farmers worked with such fervour, I'd be tossing gâteau aux cerises très moelleux through my window at twice the usual rate.

He simply nodded.

"I'm certain more will have the chance to indulge. It was quite the surprise. The brigands exited in their droves. When they first came rushing out, my first thought was that these farmers were being assailed."

"Then you needn't fear. These farmers have been spared. Just not from work. I've made sure of that. And certainly not by using anything other than a gentle smile, no matter what slanderous rumours you might have heard."

"I've heard no such rumours," said the minotaur, his white lie as shining as his armour. "The only ones which concern me are those regarding a powerful vampire, if I heard true. Would this be correct?"

"Ohohoho … not at all. I only encountered a flying leech."

"... A flying leech?"

"Yes. One with a poor sense of taste. That it somehow moulted into ash is a deep shame."

The look I received was no different to the way knights stared whenever they saw a slightly newer and shinier sword … something I was mildly mortified at.

"Then I dare say the world will sleep easier. Leeches often equate to disease. I cannot imagine the calamity that might have followed had it remained whole. Certainly, anything so foul would be poorly suited for a task as virtuous as farming."

"Is that so? … Yet I must disagree."

"Oh?"

"To wield a pitchfork is to cast away one's misdeeds–as long as it's pointed towards the ground and nowhere else. For here in the Kingdom of Tirea, all debts can be repaid. And I do believe that the road of redemption first begins with the road of productivity. Luckily for these hoodlums, it shall be both a long and joyful one."

The minotaur nodded … albeit with just a hint of concern.

"A truly fine notion. I only wish justice were so pragmatic in other kingdoms. Even so, I must admit my surprise. In my experience, trust is rarely admired by brigands. Although a number appear remarkably … zealous, I fear that most will flee on the first night."

I offered an angelic smile, my hands clasped together against my chest.

"Ordinarily, perhaps so. But that is only more cause for us to offer our kindness. Those of a desperate past think only of a desperate future, where every road is steeped in fog and paved in doubt. To swipe it away, we must therefore offer a guiding hand. To be the light that they miss. They simply need encouragement. An opportunity … and also someone to impress upon them the gravity of what should occur if such opportunity is squandered."

Thus, I looked up and nodded.

"Sir Arthur Tranlingway. I have for you a quest."

The minotaur snapped to attention, much to his own clear surprise.

I hardly saw why.

For a questing knight, there was no ambition greater than to see out the most worthy of tasks given to them. And none were more cherished than those gifted by a princess.

"Really?" The minotaur blinked, seemingly now very confused. "And … what would that be?"

"Ohohoho … why, it's simple. Please ensure that these hoodlums do not meander from the road of productivity. Because if they do, I will consider alternative arrangements."

Growing astonishment was all the minotaur had to offer as the silver of his armour almost seemed to glow with a pale shine. It was nothing compared to his sword.

That had become a light which every nearby knight could only gawp at.

I nodded in satisfaction.

"Once they've been rehabilitated to your satisfaction, I kindly invite you to the Royal Villa to receive a fitting reward–as well as an audience with the royal family. To guests from the Spiral Isle, we offer nothing but our hospitality … I look forward to our next meeting."

The minotaur stared.

Then, his eyes widened–then only continued widening as I turned on my heels, my parting smile all the reward any questing knight needed in the interim.

Now with this corner of the countryside brightened, I went to my next order of business. Back towards the edge of the forest. But it wasn't to survey where the barely hidden trail used to lure miscreants coming to undo my work would go.

Not yet, anyway.

Instead, I made my way over to the maiden with silver hair and pink pyjamas, who being a vampire had a passable excuse to avoid social occasions … at least until I was personally there to see how the Holy Church's representative would splutter when we outrageously denied everything.

Naturally, she knew this as well.

That's why in the diagram she was drawing with a fine line of ice, several broom cupboards had been added so that the maids could tidy up whatever wine glass was dropped while in the expanded library.

"It's done," said Miriam with a satisfied nod. "What do you think?"

I kneeled down to study the drawing in the grass.

It was bigger than I imagined. And there were entire rooms marked simply with the word 'culture'.

That was all that was required.

"I approve," I said with a clap of my hands. "This is wonderful. Nothing else needs to be added. In fact, perhaps some things can be removed. If the shelves scribbled with the word 'poetry' could be–"

"That is beyond my ability."

I pursed my lips, only temporarily thwarted.

First things first … water my begonias, bathe, eat and sleep, then repeated several times. But afterwards, I'd see to ensuring my agreement with a certain dragon was fulfilled in full. More than full.

After all–what example would I be if I didn't honour my debts with interest?

Ohohohohohoho!

"I'm relieved," said Miriam, looking not the least bit relieved as she studiously went over her drawing. "To be responsible for expanding the Royal Villa is something I never could have expected. But I suppose such activities are the norm now. It's certainly different from my crypt."

"Well, I'd hope so! As … cosy as your crypt sounds, the Royal Villa is flush with warmth. Especially with loyal servants dedicated to discreetly burning our deliveries of carrots in every hearth."

Miriam nodded, doubtless having admired the sight in the middle of the night.

"Are you certain there's nothing you wish to change? While later renovations can still be done, it'd be simpler if they were organised now."

"I've no changes I wish to make. In truth, I spend little time in the library. I trust that any alterations you deem suitable will be a marked improvement."

"Understood. Then I shall return to work at once."

Without fanfare, she brushed aside the drawing with a sweep of her hand–

Fwup.

… and sprouted a small pair of bat-like wings. She gave them a little flap.

I absolutely was not resisting the temptation to touch them.

"Oh, I almost forgot," I said with a click of my fingers. "I've a message I wish to be delivered to my mother and father."

"Of course. What would you like me to convey?"

"Please tell them the following: I did not do that."

Miriam waited.

After a moment, she tilted her head slightly.

"... Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Should I tell them what you specifically did not do?"

"That would defeat the purpose. I want them to know that whatever they think I did, I most certainly did not."

Miriam blinked.

Then, she looked up in thought. In those brief seconds, I could almost see every memory she had of me flashing through her eyes.

"Should I mention–"

"No."
 
Miriam by royal decree you are to forget any and all unfortunate accidents that may or may not have occurred in the vicinity of our fair Juliette. Any and all stuff you do remember keep in mind none of it can be laid at the hands of the princess. If you can accomplish this Juliette will richly reward you at a yet unspecified future time.
 
Chapter 373: An Unexpected Warmth New
The Wessin Bridge was the picture of tranquillity.

Like a stalwart guardian in the night, it stood beneath the pale moonlight, its tall silhouette enduring and proud–much like the kingdom it defended.

As the river flowed into the glimmering estuary beyond it, the calmness of the water's surface was disturbed only by the odd whisper of a nightly breeze, the falling leaves of the nearby woodlands, and the carnivorous needlefish as they occasionally skipped into the air to impale a low-diving heron.

Silence and stillness walked hand-in-hand amidst the streets.

The debauchery which had first welcomed me was no more. The farmers misled into voicing their ire were absent, while the knights who'd answered the challenge of an errant leech had become the snorts of horses and the grumblings of squires in the distance. Even the alley cats were not to be seen.

After all–

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

They'd all honourably slinked away, knowing when they were well bested in raucousness.

Although the world was calm for one more evening, within a guildhall indistinguishable from the many pubs and inns which bordered it, drunken revelry still claimed ownership here.

Just as it always did.

And so–a wooden keg rolled across the floor.

Not just a bottle of wine or a tankard, of which there were many. But an actual keg the size of the gentleman currently doing laps about the common room. He was being encouraged by the lady attempting to sit on said keg. She failed, rolling into the legs of a table and all to sit around it.

A punch was thrown, followed by a laugh of camaraderie, a toast to friendship and better tomorrows, and then finally another punch.

The next moment, I watched as a brawl ensued.

Astonishing.

I'd seen adventurers at both their worst and their worst. Yet somehow, they'd managed to find a shovel sturdy enough to dig a slightly deeper hole for standards to reside in.

There were so many tankards staining the floor that only a fire could save it. And yet they still worked to honour whichever patron deity of hooliganism they worshipped.

It didn't matter whether it was the beginning or the end of the day to these layabouts, of course. Impropriety was forever and drunkenness doubly so. Yet as the instigators of the emergency plan to placate my subjects with alcohol, they'd doubtless been leading from the front.

And also since the morning.

Normally, such a scene was enough to monopolise all my regret. But despite the alcohol, the fists and the off-key singing flailing in all directions, I now found myself leaning away from a far bigger concern.

A glossy white box.

With a red ribbon.

In stark contrast to the stains clinging on every surface, a neat box as shiny as it was ominous waited upon the desk of the smiling receptionist.

I didn't know what horrified me more. The fact we made eye contact or that the box where she kept all the souls she collected was on display, ready to efficiently scoop up anyone who succumbed to the weight of their shamelessness.

I pursed my lips.

"Coppelia."

"Yes?"

"My princess senses are tingling."

My loyal handmaiden blinked, her head turning in all directions.

"Hmm … are you sure? I don't sense any explosions."

"It's not explosions I'm concerned with."

"Oh, okay. Want me to get a table for us to hide under, anyway?"

"No." I paused. "… At least not yet. And if you do, please select one without any stains. If that's not possible, you'll need to build a table."

"Got it! What's the tingling about?"

"I'm not certain. However, there is an ill omen in the air. I can sense it like a smile from my mother. If necessary, you may need to carry me away at short notice. I'll give the signal."

"Alrighty~! What's the signal?"

"I'll say the code word, 'help, help, help, help, help'."

Coppelia nodded at once, her enthusiasm second only to my subtleness.

"Observe carefully," I added, eyes fixed upon the receptionist clearly waiting for me to approach. "I'm going to collect our reward for quenching the ire of my peasants. If I feel she'll respond in a way unrelated to that, I'll give the signal. However, should she manage to incapacitate me or steal my soul, you must use your own judgement to hurry me away."

"No worries! I'll definitely watch. And also do something."

I smiled, satisfied at her diligence.

Then, after gathering myself with a short breath, I made my way over to the only wooden surface not to be irreparably stained with alcohol. The desk.

"Greetings!" said the receptionist, her back a perfect line as she offered a professional smile from behind her desk. "Welcome to the Wessin Bridge branch of the Adventurer's Guild. It's delightful to see you again. How may I help?"

Showing no fear, I matched her unbending posture with my own.

"Ohohoho … why, you may help me by funding my stay in the least downtrodden inn! Rejoice, unnamed receptionist #8. I've successfully answered the concerns of the peasantry. The darkness hounding them from the nearby woodlands has been judged by the light of my smile. And also the concentrated power of the sun. I've removed an errant vampire scheming from the poorly furnished shadows–along with the ruffians tasked with lackey duty. Even now, they express their joy to a minotaur who is teaching them the ways of redemption."

I waited for the appropriate look of shock … hopefully followed by a large chest of gold.

Instead, the receptionist merely nodded and smiled.

"That's wonderful news!" she said, with the same exuberance whenever an F-rank adventurer didn't succumb to their wounds while kidnapping a tabby cat. "Goodness, to think that such darkness dwelled nearby! With their plight solved, the farmers can rest easy."

"No, quite the opposite. They can work harder. Now, you needn't gasp as you clearly wish to–nor do you need to offer me any certificates. All I desire is my reward."

"Of course. Please give me a moment."

The receptionist needed less than that.

As though she was already prepared, she retrieved a modest bag from behind the desk. So modest, in fact, that I could scarcely hear the tinkling as she placed it before me.

"I confirm the successful completion of the commission. Your reward is 28 gold crowns."

I stared at the pittance of a reward.

It was even less than what I received for doing away with a dryad. Or indeed, accidentally saving a large group of cats. Twice.

Even so, it wasn't the insufficient taxes of my farmers which caused my hand to remain where it was.

Yes … something was wrong.

"Excuse me, but you misplaced a step," I pointed out.

"Oh?" The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Which would that be?"

"I believe this is where you accost me for access to my copper ring. And while touching it is something I normally avoid at all costs, I've no desire to be chased to the ends of the world for the sake of whatever bureaucracy needs to be satisfied once this mistake is realised."

To my horror, the receptionist merely giggled.

Slowly, one by one, the masks were coming undone.

"I'm deeply moved by your thoughtfulness. But you needn't be concerned. While it's true that I would typically request the copper ring of any adventurer accepting or completing a commission, that is unnecessary for yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Every receptionist in the Kingdom of Tirea is well versed in your exploits, Miss Juliette. As a result, you do not require identifying. Your feats are also no longer recorded exclusively in your copper ring, but separately in a dedicated achievements drawer overseen by a team of receptionists. I'll soon be notifying my colleagues of your actions this evening. I'm certain they're already waiting eagerly."

I took a step back, my hands covering my mouth.

The … The conspiracy … it was widening!!

They knew my face! And now they had a blackmail drawer detailing all the things I officially didn't do!

Soon, I'd be waking up to the sight of receptionists smiling while leaning over me … and if I was fortunate, it was to assassinate me!

"Pffffftt."

Beside me, Coppelia was equally distraught. Both hands covered her lips as the least sad noise of despair ever made left her.

I offered a perfectly natural, creaking smile towards the receptionist.

"O-Ohohoho … I … I see … that is … that is quite convenient, yes …"

"It is the least we can do. Your accomplishments speak for themselves. To offer our recognition to an adventurer who symbolises the guild code so earnestly is something we all enjoy."

"In … Indeed … ? Why, I'm deeply flattered … and an achievements drawer, you say … ?"

"Yes, it contains all your history. An unabridged account of your every deed."

"My, how delightful … ! And where would such a drawer be … ? Approximately, that is … to the city, room and exact cabinet … ?

"It's somewhere safe."

"Goodness … I certainly hope so … ! Because it would be absolutely terrible if something were to happen to it … say, an unexplained fire in the middle of the night … ?"

My smile quivered.

And then–

I slowly pushed the small pouch of gold crowns towards the receptionist.

She pushed it back.

"I'm delighted to have been able to meet you personally," said the receptionist, her smile brightening by the second. "I understand that you have a very busy schedule–and I also have no wish to take up your valuable time. But if you can, I'd like you to accept a discretionary reward on behalf of myself and all my colleagues."

She gestured towards the box of souls.

The one designed explicitly for mine. I looked at it in horror.

"E-Excuse me … ? This highly suspicious box is a reward from every receptionist … ?"

"Yes. By all means, please open it. The ribbons are not completely attached, so the lid can simply be lifted."

An expectant smile met me. Both by the receptionist and Coppelia as my courage was tested.

For a moment, all I could feel was an inviting breeze from outside as the door briefly opened. Yet as the weight of my family's honour settled upon my shoulders, I chose to meet the challenge.

Bravely, with an eye closed as I turned my face away … I lifted the edge of the lid.

When no fruit slime sprang out to eat me, I leaned over and stole a peek.

"Oh."

A cake.

A strawberry shortcake, to be exact.

And unlike the bite sized portions sitting mysteriously upon my apple trees, this one was whole. A perfectly round beacon of delight, disturbed only by the faint lines where it'd been sliced.

My studious eyes went over the abundant strawberries at once, each so ripe their juices practically glazed over a bed of whipped cream. Beneath it, more cream still with their texture intact teasingly peeked between the layers of perfectly golden sponge.

I could find no fault.

"It's a small thing," said the receptionist with a nod. "But I hope you can at least enjoy a slice amidst your busy schedule. It was Mirabelle, the receptionist in Reitzlake, who made the suggestion for a gift."

I blinked and rubbed my eyes.

Still, the beautifully adorned cake sat before me. A mirage so perfect that every instinct warned me against indulging. Especially when a name I was beginning to remember was the culprit behind it.

Indeed … if this was by the harbinger of doom, then I could not accept this!

There was undoubtedly an ulterior motive! Perhaps the cake itself was laced with some alchemical or magical concoction! A means to enthrall me with some devious ingredient hidden within the layers of carefully placed decoration!

Indeed, I could never under any circumstances allow myself to … to …

"Ah?!"

I jumped slightly, startled by the sudden feeling of shortcake in my hand. And also my mouth.

It … It was so good!!

Betrayed by my own limbs, I savoured the familiar taste. Nor was I the only one to do so.

"Omnomomonomonomonom~"

Wielding a slice of shortcake in either hand, Coppelia wasted no time in ensuring that if any amount of illicit ingredients were present, she would experience the symptoms first.

Even so, I expected her to continue eating.

Although it was not to the impeccable standards which the Royal Villa adhered to, it was by no means lacking. High quality ingredients were measured to exact amounts, with even the slices calculated to ensure even distribution of strawberries. The result was more than a rush of delight.

It was a reminder of why I was here.

I needed to ensure that my quality of life would remain unimpeded. So that once I sat beneath the boughs of my apple trees once more, I could look up and be reassured by the silhouette of a falling shortcake at any time.

And so … I chose to indulge!

After all, it was important to remember my purpose!

Furthermore, wasn't declining a gift that was offered in earnest simply barbarous? As a high level princess, I had to hold myself to a standard greater than to be cowed by mere thoughts of whatever terrible motive went behind this gift!

Why, if something bad were to happen, I'd at least implicate the harbinger of doom! … And if it was simply bribery for terrorising me all this time, then that only meant more reason to hire her as soon as possible! … Or rather, as soon as her presence no longer horrified me!

Eventually, however, even those thoughts faded.

My concerns were swallowed up at the same pace as fluffy sponge layered with strawberries and cream on both sides, until even the promise of dancing mice in the ceiling above me was forgotten.

For a moment, I was sitting upon the soft grass, visited by the fragrance of freshly watered lilacs and the maids reminding me of my scheduled mathematics lesson 4 hours ago.

Why, even the commotion of a busy guild hall no longer registered.

"Miss Juliette … ?"

After all–

It was completely silent.

But not through envy at the sight of the only edible source of food having evaded the communal cauldron.

Rather … it was because of the pillar of flame.

Through a window was a sight so unexpected that it induced sobriety in every adventurer, stopping them where they stood, rolled or brawled.

A swirling tempest of undiluted wildfire rose in the distance, high enough to catch the stomach of any passing dragon. And possibly even tickle them. For it was more than the height of the flames which saw so many tankards being loosened from their hands.

Such was its intensity, the pillar managed to light the dark recesses of the Wessin Bridge like a crackling hearth, the warmth and fury both felt even from here.

A magical flame beyond the ability of ordinary mages.

Except perhaps one.

The receptionist looked at me with concern. I looked at her. And then I did what any princess would do.

I continued eating cake.
 
Chapter 374: Memories Of The Past New
Marina had long grown used to the stench of flames.

The acridness. The pungency. The smoke tarring her nostrils like a final spite from whatever enemy it was she'd reduced to melted goo and burning embers.

And more often than not, it was a casserole.

Despite her reputation, what she most frequently turned to cinders wasn't her enemies. But rather a combination of beef, carrots and onions with a sprig of parsley.

Not because she was tragic in the kitchen, but simply because she was stubborn.

She could use a saucepot, of course. But she also had her cauldron.

An expensive cauldron. High quality stoneware with a silver bottom.

Perfect for that little bonus which gave her popular hangover tonics a strawberry aftertaste.

And since she paid for every inch of that cauldron, she also wanted to use every inch of it … even if by her own admission, a heavy duty cauldron sat upon a flame hot enough to melt a typical hearth wasn't truly appropriate.

These days, however, the things she burned were far less palatable than her usual ingredients.

She burned the faces of headmasters, the doors in her path and the eyebrows of bathhouse owners when she was clearly being charged the tourist price for entering.

But most of all … she burned towers.

Always a tower. Mages loved them.

And since the people she needed to deal with were usually other mages, that meant towers.

This one was considerably smaller than the Royal Institute of Mages, yet the flames engulfing it were no less. The combination of a single vial of cinderwake oil from her satchel combined with a click of her fingers had done more than she could have expected, but also less than what she'd hoped.

As she stepped through the ashes of a former study, what she found so far was only disappointment.

Her closest friend.

Marina's shoes swept through the ashes of a study, disturbing sprouts of flames still burning like freshly lit braziers.

Here and there, the carcass of a tome, an instrument or an entire shelf came toppling down, the flames having melted it all against the stonework. Embers drifted down like snow.

She ignored it all.

These were her flames, born of magic so ancient she scarcely understood how it functioned.

Few could. And of those, most were con artists or deluded. After all, the magic which flowed through her didn't just burn. It pricked at her. Like a thousand needles scratching beneath her skin.

Her blood was a curse. But it was also a gift.

Marina was powerful.

More than she'd ever been in her life.

Destruction came to her as easily as the caws of the ravens as they spied her through the charred windows. Her magic was so potent that a dozen apprentices without a single lesson in self-restraint could let loose in a pottery shop and cause less damage than what she could do with a frown.

And that … was infuriating.

Marina frowned as she observed the largest source of ash.

That'd once been an arcane golem, made to work in concert with the paralysing runes beneath the floorboards and the charged lightning rods designed to ward against both intruders and pigeons.

Blunt but practical.

It mattered little. Her flames were even blunter.

She was the Witch of Calamity. And calamity rarely came with subtlety.

It'd been centuries since any mage bearing that title last threatened the kingdom. There had been others, of course, in Rozinthe and the Summer Kingdoms among others, but they'd melted alongside their flames.

Marina, however, knew as certain as the invisible weight upon her brow that there was now no mistake–even if she wished it wasn't so.

Others might rejoice before burning down a barn like a child playing a dragon. But others also wished for talent when they should be wishing for a personal organiser.

There was no substitute for a fixed schedule, a hard working ethos and a balanced diet. And while eating charred vegetables didn't help the feeling of being doused in grease halfway through the motion of exiting bed in the mornings, it was certainly enough to read Adonian's Elementary Guide To Breaking The World with one hand while stirring ladles in a cauldron with the other.

This made a mockery of her studies. Of all the weird shapes engrained upon her forehead, the frequent illnesses and the sore back as she fell asleep at her desk.

Marina refused to accept it.

But if it was a means to an end, she would at least tolerate it.

For now.

There was a mystery to solve. And now she was a piece of the conundrum.

The rest was still her mother.

Marina paused as the tip of her shoe met the only thing not to be melted. She leaned down and brushed her fingers through the ashes before lifting up the least auspicious of objects.

An elven puzzle box.

Burned but not broken.

Marina hadn't expected anything else.

Despite the destruction, she'd chosen cinderwake oil and not strictly her magic for a reason. To overwhelm the tower's defences required only this much.

Anything more would threaten what she needed.

A toy woven with more enchantments than any alchemical concoction could break. Or indeed, most magic by even the most proficient of mages–of which the owner of this tower certainly wasn't.

If Marina squinted hard enough, she'd just be able to make out the fleeing silhouette through the window.

Instead, she flicked the keyhole upside down.

Click.

As the puzzle box unlocked, she responded with a snort.

Those at the Royal Institute would have hurled fireballs at it for years. But for better or for worse, a fireball couldn't solve every problem.

Otherwise, she'd already be rid of her.

"It suits you. The hair, that is."

Marina chastised herself for even glancing.

Idling upon the window was a girl whose scarlet smile only became less wholesome each time she appeared. That was her greatest talent. It was never wholesome to begin with.

The Dealer sat with one leg crossed over the other, elbow perched upon her lap while her cheek rested within her palm. There was no sense of caution in her mismatched eyes of gold and scarlet. No curiosity or terror at the extent of Marina's new powers.

Only faint bemusement.

After all–for all her outrageousness, she at least didn't have hair tinged with ends of luminous pink.

"You're welcome to it," said Marina, forcing her eyes away from what she continuously failed to erase with either fire or scissors. "If you believe you can whisk them away, feel free to."

"I would never dare do something so uncouth. Strands of glowing hair are very much in favour. Boldness and eccentricity has always been the purview of great mages."

"This isn't boldness or eccentricity. It is someone else's humour. And I'm the one suffering. I can't even purchase reagents without drawing attention. And herbalists have seen everything."

"Perhaps that's less because of the hair and more the dissonance when a pair of common eyes witnesses the Witch of Calamity purchasing powdered sweetroot and dried snowberries for their favourite fruit cordial. Those before you were not known for their law abiding nature."

Marina wrinkled her nose.

She didn't know how the previous Witches of Calamity navigated daily life, but she cared little for whatever precedents they'd set. Least of all concerning their purchases.

She was hardly a saint, true. But she'd never rob from a fellow shopkeeper. That was a red line.

Shooing away her would-be colleagues with unholy amounts of fire, however, wasn't one of them.

"I'm stunned you haven't been harassing me more," admitted Marina, all the while carefully and very deliberately opening the lid of her puzzle box.

"I've been overworked," replied the Dealer with her usual smile, not looking at all like someone who'd lifted a finger to raise a teapot. "As a poor cog in the machine, I can only spin so fast. Contrary to what you believe, I'm a shameless nuisance to others as well."

"I'm owed several favours, then. I can feel the relief from everywhere not here."

"Everywhere not here can still see your work at play. The tower lit up so brightly that perhaps even Her Excellency might have deigned to spare a glance. I'm most impressed. You're almost as subtle as I am."

Marina rolled her eyes.

It used to be so much easier. When they first met, there was almost a thin veneer of professionalism to this girl. Mystery, even. Now she was telling jokes and quips.

The ignorance was wonderful.

"What do you want?" said Marina, as she lifted a crystallised dew from the puzzle box. She examined it closely. A perfect droplet without flaw glittered in answer. "I'm busy. If you want to bother me about my calamitous powers, it'll have to wait."

"I've endless ways I can be an inconvenience. But querying you isn't one of them."

"... And what do you mean by that?"

Marina spared a second glance. The Dealer shrugged.

"The Witch of Calamity. The Barrow Knight. The Cursed Shipwright. Yours Truly. Lotus House is ever the home of the lost and the dispossessed. And to ask questions is to be tactless. Others may fulfil that role. Tonight, my only task is to offer a note of caution."

"Really. And what is that?"

"There are other ways you may proceed with what you wish. The past is a tale written only in memories. And to force the ink is a dangerous game."

Marina almost scoffed on instinct.

Instead, she paused as the edges of the Dealer's lips lowered slightly. Her mismatched eyes narrowed so imperceptibly that only an odd lessening of irritation hinted that her words might almost be genuine.

That was a first more rare than any magic she could wield.

"I've played worse games," answered Marina, as she crushed the perfect dew between her finger and thumb into fine shards. "Namely by associating with you."

The Dealer's smile returned in full.

"True. But I do hope this isn't where your gamble will fail."

Marina didn't allow herself to hesitate.

Not now.

Not when all she'd worked for would finally come to fruition.

"[Ignite]."

Speaking only a word, a blaze of flames appeared in the centre of the study. The ashes burst into flames, their withered crumbs forced to life once again.

Then, the crushed dew between her finger and thumb was flung into the flames.

A moment later, so was everything else–each precious reagent drawn from her satchel.

"Dew of captured starlight, bearing echoes of words once said. Feather of the raven king, with wisdom beyond the boundless sky. Eye of the ashen basilisk, granting a glimpse of a world lost in time. The mirror of a banshee, offering clarity of the soul."

Finally, she took out the final memento of her hardships … and swallowed a deep breath.

It sparkled in her palm. A thing which even as a broken shard was more beautiful and rare than anything she would likely ever see. She hoped to never need it again.

"Crown of the Winter Queen, ruler of a season passed. By these relics, I call upon the veil of eternity. Let the embers reveal what once was, and allow the past to burn anew … [Dream Of The Forgotten]."

Magic blossomed in answer throughout the scorched tower.

And Marina waited.

The sweat formed upon her brows as she stared into the heart of the flames. But there was no uncertainty. No doubt even as the flames flickered and began to settle.

After all–this was more than a magic incantation.

It was a witchly one, the required reagents drawn to cast a spell so old that she had pieced it together from both parchment and scraps of bark. That she herself was the Witch of Calamity couldn't have been a finer coincidence.

Meaning it was never that at all.

Even so–Marina stared into fire. And then the fire stared at her.

What happened next swept her off her feet.

She had violated a law of the world. And all the world pushed back. Memories, colours, emotions all coursed through her mind. Overpowering. Overbearing. Days, months and years crashed into her, sending her spiralling like a ship caught in a whirlpool. Again and again her vision spun as images dragged her thoughts in every direction. Every moment. She saw figures she'd never seen, faces she didn't know, voices she'd never heard.

All was dark. All was scowling. And all was seething.

All except for one.

She caught a smile and a whistling hum.

Stillness came as sudden as the dropping of an anchor.

Then, for a moment so fragile she dared not raise her eyes, she glimpsed the sight of a home now lost.

An evening when all was quiet, save for a fire burning within a stove and a figure tending to a pot.

Marina dared to look upwards.

As the faintest gasp left her lips, the edges of the image darkened like water creeping upon a page. She held herself steady, forcing herself, focusing even as the weight of the world sought to usher her away.

There she was.

Apron, ponytail and overly loose cardigan, as serene and carefree as the many burned pots waiting in the sink would dare to suggest.

Roseline Lainsfont.

A terrible cook. An even worse knitter. And a very lost mother.

A decade later and her whereabouts were unknown. Most believed she'd befallen tragedy at the hands of flames. A common enough cause.

But Marina knew otherwise.

After all–

Her mother was the only mage more talented than she was.

Suddenly, the stirring ceased. And as though drawn to an unexpected sound, she turned and blinked past her shoulder. Not at some unseen corner.

But at her.

Puzzlement filled a face as familiar today as it was a decade ago.

As intuition defied impossibility, she left her cooking pot, academic curiosity lighting up her warm eyes as she approached with a poking fingertip raised. Yet whatever ethereal cheek she hoped to prod, her attention was drawn instead to a white envelope swooping in like a diving swan through the window.

All thoughts Marina had of raising her own fingertip in turn were forced aside at once.

She watched instead as panic overtook her mother as she read the contents.

That panic turned to frantic pacing in circles. To desperate concern.

And then finally–a cupboard being opened.

Marina couldn't believe it.

Out came a broom. The same crooked one she could always remember.

So crooked, in fact, that it was clearly more suited to anything else other than sweeping.

A suitcase promptly followed, lifted from the very back of the cupboard. Out it came upon the table, sending out dust so thick it clouded even whatever magical eye Marina was gifted.

It didn't matter how much there was.

She could still see the robes of violet and black that were practically flung out. The absurdly large hat finished with a crumpled tip. That the suitcase was always there in the cupboard where the monsters were supposedly residing filled Marina with nothing but exasperation.

It was gone a moment later, replaced by a surge of triumph, joy … and also extreme confusion.

Because even as her mother struggled to fling her robes on, she still rushed to write a message, spilling ink from a pot as she left a hurried note on the back of the very same letter she'd received. It was all there, waiting upon the table as she rushed out of sight, her hat possibly worn the wrong way and a broomstick in hand.

An explanation.

Marina could see it, the words so scribbled they were an unreadable scrawl. But it was there. And still all that awaited Marina and her father's return that very same evening were ashes and cinders.

That's when she realised–

Her mother was leaving the house … without putting the stove fire out first.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo … !!"

Marina cried out in equal horror and indignation.

She reached out, willing herself against every force. And this time, she failed to find her footing.

As she stepped forwards, the ground broke before her. She was flailing, falling, tumbling through an ocean of colours without a horizon. It was the sight she saw for a fraction of a moment whenever she teleported. And now it was constant. Like a picture frame she could not escape.

Marina found herself sinking. Drowning. Fading.

Click.

And then–she found herself blinking up at the sight of a promiscuous smile.

Golden and ruby eyes looked down at her.

"Ah." The Dealer tilted her head slightly, drawing attention towards her fingers having just snapped Marina from the abyss. "How fortunate. I see you won your gamble. Beginner's luck is such a lovely thing, is it not?"

Marina blinked again.

It took her several moments to realise she was on her back. On the hard floor.

The bed of ashes had been completely spent, leaving only what remained underneath.

Relief unlike anything she'd ever known filled her. Not only because she'd been spared whatever waited at the bottom of the sea, but also because she now knew the truth.

Her mother was very much a witch. And something had drawn her away.

Something urgent. Something desperate. Something unresolved.

… And something to think about after regaining her senses.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice scarcely more than a groan.

"I did nothing," replied the Dealer simply. "But you're welcome nonetheless."

Marina took a deep breath.

She raised herself, sitting up as best she could. She failed.

Her head spun around and around, her vision swirling as all sense of vertigo left her like a belated punch to both her stomach and her face. Instead, she waited for the worst of the nausea to pass, eyes blinking repeatedly as normal colours filled her eyes, albeit most of it scorched black.

Then, she gave a nod, her brows furrowing as she thought to her next task.

"I need to find the witches."

The Dealer smiled.

"Oh? … But the realm of the witches is such a perilous place. They do not entertain guests. Not even one they would call the Witch of Calamity. Should you force entry through the door, you may find even your hand to be scorched."

Marina gingerly stood up.

Her hands brushed down her travelling attire. An increasingly familiar motion. For even as the flakes of ash went spiralling away, she knew she'd soon be doing it again.

Witches.

She never once considered that anything could be more tiresome than other mages. Yet even before they'd hid themselves from their peers, witches were already outcasts in the world of magical academia.

After all, anything a bumbling apprentice could do, a witch could do worse. Somehow.

But that was fine.

Marina knew what to do now.

For every problem, there was a solution.

This meant handling it just like she did most things these days.

Subtly. With lots of fire.
 
Chapter 375: Spring Cleaning New
Morning came with the scent of sugar, spice and something I wisely chose not to ask about.

Ordinarily, Coppelia and I would signal our departure from any village, town or market by first patroning whichever bakery enticed us with the most shameless offers.

By doing so, we not only secured crucial provisions for the day ahead, but also instilled the importance of bribery when it came to earning royal favours.

Today, however … things were different.

Being a bridge catering towards travellers, ruffians and merchants, alcohol was plentiful but hazelnut croissants were few and far between. And since the proprietor of the only local bakery had officially vanished under mysterious circumstances, drastic measures were required.

So drastic, in fact, that I didn't know what variety of croissant Coppelia was currently making.

Rather–

"Hmm."

I wasn't even certain what colour it was.

Here in a kitchen once belonging to a scheming auntie, I stood beside my loyal handmaiden as she kneaded, no tenderised, no … assailed a block of dough in a mixing bowl.

"La la laa lala laa la ♫."

Yes.

The Bakery de Coppelia was officially open for business.

Despite this, there were no other customers.

Possibly because they could hear the dough squeaking in anguish. Or maybe even the humming helping to drown it.

With a smile as bright as the many mixing bowls already tossed to the side, Coppelia enthusiastically worked to ensure I wouldn't starve on the road ahead. And while the rainbow nature of the dough was somewhat counterintuitive to my wellbeing, I could at least rest assured in the knowledge that no matter what she made, I'd already been gifted a sight worthy of my delight.

Coppelia wearing an apron.

I smiled with a clap of my hands.

"My, this looks utterly wonderful!"

"Heheh~ you think so, too, huh? This is gonna be amazing."

I nodded fervently.

In keeping with her delicate nature, Coppelia wasn't simply mushing dough together.

… Rather, she was mushing dough while wearing appropriate attire as well!

Ohohohoho!

Indeed, as wonderful as it was to see her hard at work, even greater was the sight of her wearing a kitchen staple!

True, the yellow and dotted nature of this particular apron only just about matched her golden hair and did very little for her rosy pink shoes … but even so!

It was still a wondrous premonition for what was to come!

As my loyal handmaiden, it was only fitting for her to be assigned her own uniform. And if a simple apron which she'd need to remove before any witnesses saw looked fitting on her, this meant that come her official uniform, she'd look even better!

I could already picture it in my princess's eye.

A splendid, bespoke garment halfway between a dress gown and a traditional maid's clothing, with enough buttons and ribbons to upstage not only the handmaidens of other princesses, but even the princesses themselves!

Why, she'd look absolutely wonderful!

"Pass~"

"Excuse me?"

"You're making that suspicious face again. Whatever you're thinking, the answer is pass."

"C-Coppelia! I would never think anything suspicious!" I said as my hands measured the width of her shoulders. "Hmm. Frills here should do just fine …"

Coppelia responded with a tilt of her head, her smile becoming oddly fixed.

A moment later, she proceeded to do the only thing to possibly break the image in my head. She scooped up a sacrifice of multi-coloured dough and squeezed it into a ball. Then with a nod of satisfaction, she duly presented it to me.

I looked down in appropriate confusion.

"Do … Do you require assistance or … ?"

"Nope. It's done!"

"Excuse me?"

"Breakfast is done. Also lunch and dinner. I made extras. Loads."

I continued staring. And not touching.

"O-Oohohoho … is, is that so? That was considerably swifter than what I was expecting. Why, I notice you appear to have used quite a few ingredients. Some of which came from your pouch. Of things. Does it need not, well … baking? Extensively, perhaps?"

"Ahaha~ not at all! It's ready to eat. This is a smoothie bun."

"A smoothie bun."

"Mmh! Give it a try!"

I blinked down at the offered smoothie bun.

Hmm.

How novel.

The world of haute cuisine had once attempted to pass off a lemon meringue tart infused with the acid of a bilebelly toad as a delicacy. Yet even that failed to compare to the feeling of doom I experienced while gazing at the offered smoothie bun.

Coppelia truly was talented.

"My, how wonderful! Despite my princess knowledge regarding all things sweets, pastries and desserts, I've never heard of anything so perilous as a smoothie bun before! The texture is so glossy, the colours so innocent and the waft of sugar thick enough to hide what lurks underneath! … It looks almost harmless!"

"I know, right?! Here, take a bite!"

I shook my head with regret.

"Unfortunately, I cannot. As delicious as I'm certain this is, I must savour an important memory to come. My first smoothie bun made by your hands must use the finest ingredients curated and inspected rigorously by the Royal Villa's kitchen. To do anything else would be an insult to your efforts. Until then, I shall satisfy myself with visual nourishment. And also leftover strawberry shortcake."

Coppelia's turquoise eyes lit up.

Forgotten at once, the smoothie bun fell from her palm. It made a sizzling noise as it struck the floor.

"Ooh, ooh! I–"

I held up my hand at once.

"Absolutely not. You had your share."

"Booooooooooo~!"

"Boo the receptionists who failed to bribe us with a large enough cake. Until they provide a better one, view this as a lesson in restraint. Cake should be responsibly indulged for all hours of the day, not simply in one go. Or one bite. Joy must be equally spread or else sadness is permitted to fill the void."

Coppelia puffed up a single cheek.

Fortunately, her disappointment wasn't to last. Especially as I poked said cheek.

As the air ejected from her lips and her face returned to normal, so too did her lackadaisicalness as she settled on the next best thing.

A second scoop of a smoothie bun, now tossed straight into her mouth.

"Mmmh~ mystery vomit berries! Just like how I remember."

As she chewed, an expression of unabashed satisfaction and utter disregard for the melting mixing bowl was bright enough to compete with the morning sunlight. Which was good.

We had a busy itinerary ahead of us leisurely sampling all the crêpes between here and the Royal Villa.

And between them–a single appointment.

As a draft crept through a hole in the wall caused by someone who all witnesses had sadly missed, a tiny robin flew down and sat upon an exposed brick, its gaze upon the same thing in the distance as all the eyes in the Wessin Bridge the previous evening.

A distant tower burning like a candle with all its wax alight.

Although the flames had ceased, the smoke still rose. Of the tower itself, nothing but its blackened silhouette remained.

An ominous premonition.

After all–

We hadn't even encountered Miss Lainsfont again yet, and I was already disappointed.

"Unacceptable," I said, as I warned the robin away when it peeked at Coppelia's slowly melting mixing bowl. "That woman has managed to live out the fantasy of every villain without a speck of imagination. She's awakened with undefined powers of ultimate destruction and the most nefarious thing she's done is distract the grazing cows by lightly searing a tower."

Coppelia swallowed her smoothie bun and beamed.

"Mmh, I'm proud of her! It's really hard to show restraint when you suddenly have a cool title like the Witch of Calamity. That means she's still holding out for something bigger!"

"There's restraint and there's lacking standards … why, she hasn't even arranged that tower's foundations into a cryptic message pronouncing her intentions to burn down my kingdom! That's the very least of expectations."

"True. I keep hoping to see a [Meteor] just randomly fall down. But I don't hear any screaming anywhere. It's terrible."

"Indeed, she's clearly allowing her new found powers to be an excuse for apathy. Frankly, that bodes poorly for the future. It'd simply be awful if each encounter with her was fated to become less impressive each time before she fled."

I shook my head with regret.

"No … far better instead to end this on a good note. For her sake, of course."

"Ooh! Are we going to try to keep Miss Racy Corset in one place this time?"

"Indeed we will." I placed my hand upon my chest and smiled. "Ohohoho … after all, it's my duty as a princess to keep my kingdom tidy. And nothing is as threatening to my coming schedule as a loose thread. Therefore, this is simply a matter of spring cleaning before my return home."

Yes … it was time to be efficient!

Although future me was as kind and beautiful as present me, even she needed a helping hand every now and again.

Once we'd passed Wirtzhaven, it wouldn't be long before we were skirting the border with the Kingdom of Weinstadt and finding ourselves near Rolstein once more. By then, I'd practically be home. And I certainly had no intention of leaving my orchard again for any reason other than to climb the steps to my bedroom.

"Our favourite mage was the first nuisance," I said. "But she can also be the last. It is time we offer Miss Marmalade Lainsfont all that I've promised. A place on an island where her magic can work to undo all the fires she has caused."

Coppelia raised an arm.

"Question!"

"Go ahead."

"What do we do about the fact she's basically a magical eel? I mean, she's really slippery, what with the way she teleports everywhere. That's not a thing most mages can do. At least not without losing their face in a chimney. And now she's got the whole reincarnated aspect of calamity thing."

I hummed in thought.

True, this would hardly be an easy problem to resolve.

She clearly had her talents for magic. I experienced it first hand when she carried me up several flights of stairs to a middling review. And now that she'd been granted additional powers, it meant our next meeting promised to involve her greatest ability now being even stronger.

A cackling speech. Now so incredibly long winded that I had no idea how we'd handle staying conscious through it all.

… Fortunately, I also didn't need to know!

That's right! I was an unparalleled genius! And what I didn't know today I'd know tomorrow! My only goal was to indulge in leftover shortcake so I could place future me in the best frame of mind!

"Ohohoho … you needn't fear," I declared confidently. "I shall simply offer a means to calm the flames of her anguished soul. One way or another. Why, I've yet to offer her the balm of my angelic smile or the wide range of options she has available to her. Soap Island has expanded greatly. With additional roles beyond just soap making, I'm certain we can find something which will satisfy her."

Thus–I smiled and turned.

"... Come, Coppelia! The shadows may have rescinded, but the flames still loom over the horizon! It is time we offer Miss Marinara a graceful exit from the stage! For the sake of this fair kingdom and all the sleep I need to catch up on, we shall close the curtains on her tale of calamity!"

Coppelia raised her mixing bowl in joy.

"Got it! I'll start making mailboxes while I look for magical ducks~!"

I nodded and smiled, happy she understood the intricacies of my plan.

After all, there were already more than enough calamities in my kingdom.

They were the mice dancing in the ceiling. The adventurers disturbing the cats from doing their jobs. The nobility who drank their fill of wine in my father's court. And a harbinger of doom whose smile regularly caused more damage than any meteor a mage could summon.

But for anything my smile couldn't fix, I was certain a well written letter in a mailbox would do.

And if nothing else, well–

I leaned forwards and scooped up a hazardous smoothie bun.

There were things more dangerous than magical ducks or mailboxes I could punt at her.
 
Audiobook Book 8 Now Available! New


Marinara returns! Thank you so much for supporting me! It's now time for a special and long awaited moment in our favourite shopkeeper's tale going forwards ... but if you want to remember what happened last time, there is the new audiobook of Book 8 which coincidentally comes out at quite a convenient time!

Granted, she probably doesn't want anyone reminded, so be careful of stray spells flying into your bedroom.
 


Marinara returns! Thank you so much for supporting me! It's now time for a special and long awaited moment in our favourite shopkeeper's tale going forwards ... but if you want to remember what happened last time, there is the new audiobook of Book 8 which coincidentally comes out at quite a convenient time!

Granted, she probably doesn't want anyone reminded, so be careful of stray spells flying into your bedroom.
I saw the announcement on audible this morning and already purchased it. I love the audio book versions. They capture the energy of the characters very well.
 
Apron, ponytail and overly loose cardigan,
Oh no! Does the ponytail go over her shoulder? I'd hate for poor ms lainsfort to get her hopes up.

she found herself blinking up at the sight of a promiscuous smile.
The dealer is for the streets?? Are people in her org allowed to have hookups? Do they even give her the free time? It seems like she's only ever busy. Maybe she should think about her work life balance.
 
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