《The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer》


 Chapter 1: To Cut A Shortcake

    The orchard within the Royal Villa was my home within a home. Undaunted by the tall shadows cast by the walls, the blossoming apple trees and flowering shrubs sung a song of springtime as they gently woke me from my afternoon nap.


    Rising from the grass, I cast open a bleary eye against the scattered sunlight filtering in between the tree leaves above me. Then, with a wipe of my hand, I noted the dampness by the side of my lips and quietly groaned.


    That I''d fallen asleep in the open was already a dereliction of form. That I''d done so while drooling was unforgivable. Were a maid to see me in such an unfettered state, the shame would dog me long after I''d fired them.


    Fortunately, there wasn''t a soul to spy my indiscretion. Although that wasn''t to say that nobody was in the villa or in the grounds. Servants, guests and guards were always abound. Usually by each other.


    And that''s how I enjoyed it.


    Indeed, there was nobody around me.


    As the fifth in the line of succession, it wasn''t necessary to have attendants herding my every step during a busy day of diplomacy. My role was to attend the necessary public gatherings while making as little fuss as possible.


    The intrigue behind closed doors was not mine to either witness or partake in, and as a result, I was broadly left to pursue the creative endeavours that a girl of my age was expected to demonstrate profuseness in.


    Knitting. Gardening. Tea making. Painting. Poetry. Dancing.


    Why, it was a terribly dull state of affairs.


    To be so far removed from the comings and goings of my father''s court while my own brothers and sisters advanced our family''s cause in the dizzying light of public approval.


    And that''s why¡ª


    ¡°Heh heheheh heheh ...¡±


    That''s why I jumped in joy.


    Hopping on the spot like an excitable rabbit, I leapt for the clouds as I realised I''d woken up from a nap and still didn''t have anywhere I needed to be!


    It was marvellous! An entire day spared from the drudgery of court politics! An entire day where I wasn''t subjected to the stench of old hags! No longer did I need to pretend I couldn''t see the sly nods traded in the corners and the pouches of crowns being passed beneath the tables!


    And that meant a day where I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, was free to indulge in the scholarly pursuits.


    I peeked around.


    Then, I quickly stepped across the roots of the apple tree, leaned down, and pulled out a book from the shrubs residing at the base.


    A bright red cover met my smile.


    Opening it, I made a childish squeal as the leaf being used as a bookmark fell down and I saw how much of the book I still had left to enjoy.


    Indeed, this book that was carefully and painstakingly hidden amongst the dirt and twigs was no treatise on history. Nor was it a recipe book for the decade''s most delectable dishes in the world of haute cuisine.


    It was ¡­ an adventure romance title.


    A Court Lady''s Indiscretion, Vol. III.


    Immediately, I wiped the side of my lips as my etiquette failed me once again.


    It was a wanton piece of literature that I had to order by courier and with a hefty bribe for discretion. But it was worth it. Written by an author claiming to be a noble-born lady, it detailed the truly shameless account of a romantic rendezvous with a castle guardsman.


    Of course, I knew it to be a fabrication. There was no highborn lady on this side of the continent who would jeopardise their standing due to an infatuation with a common soldier. Such a thing was purely in the realm of fairytales, whereas the world was built on ambition as unbending as cold iron.


    Yet even so, should even the slightest possibility exist ¡­


    Why, it would be truly scandalous!


    Again, I wiped my face with the back of my hand.


    However, my own personal indiscretion by reading this title wasn''t ready to begin. There was a need for sustenance in order to fuel my reading session. And luckily for me, I happened to be surrounded by highly nutritious food.


    Looking up, I spied a perfectly ripe apple dangling from the lowest branch. And then I reached up for the strawberry shortcake hiding just past it.


    Smiling at how my day was proceeding, I went on my tip-toes and swiped, hopeful that my height had increased by several inches since I''d earlier tossed the shortcake amongst the branches.


    ¡°Uff ¡­ hrghh ¡­ hnnghh!!¡±


    It hadn''t.


    Admitting defeat, I instead unsheathed the sword all members of the royal household kept by their sides.


    Mine was merely ceremonial, of course. It was simply part of my dress. I was neither trained, nor expected to use a weapon. Should any situation arise, the guards could be relied upon to protect me.


    Why, there should be no issue if it was used as a cake prodder, right ¡­ ?


    Hugging the book to my chest, I reached up and gently tapped at the side of the branch with the face of the sword.


    The shortcake dropped with ease. As it fell, I angled my sword¡ª


    And allowed the nutritious snack to fall across the edge of the blade, cleanly slicing itself into two finger-sized pieces.


    Such was the keenness of the sword''s edge, that the shortcake could barely be seen to split. Only when I caught it in my hand did it separate. Two perfectly golden slices topped with cream and half a strawberry each revealed themselves to me. And now I knew it was fated to be a good day.


    ¡°Hm hm hm hm hmm ?.¡±


    Yes, it was a very good day.


    That is, until I heard the sound of hearty clapping.


    ¡°Not bad. One strike, eh? Your enemy never saw it coming.¡±


    Immediately flinging both the book and the shortcake slices into the shrub, I twisted around and held up my sword. If I could, I would''ve thrown myself in there as well. And probably also the person who saw me.


    Wiping away the childish joy from my face, I threw on my most dignified scowl and corrected my posture towards the man who was now holding up his hands.


    I didn''t lower my blade.


    An unknown man in roughspun travelling attire and the start of an unkempt beard. Clearly a hooligan. And sneaking up on a princess in the midst of her studies! Why, that was at least three capital crimes! This caused for nothing less than immediate execution. Or at least several knocks around the head, specifically the bit which held memories.


    ¡°This area of the grounds is private,¡± I said. ¡°Name yourself. You''re not a retainer. What are you doing here?¡±


    The man held up his hands slightly higher. And yet his act of docility neither matched his easy smile, nor the way he was casually admiring the blade pointed towards his direction as if it were a display piece.


    ¡°Woah there, let me confess first before you start putting holes in me.¡±


    I immediately looked at which part of his body seemed most susceptible to being stabbed. His smile faltered slightly.


    ¡°What I mean to say is, I''m not used to finding my way around mansions. Caban Oxwell''s the name. I''m acting as liaison with the Adventurer''s Guild. I was told the steward was in the gardens?¡±


    I maintained my scowl as I assessed the truthfulness of his claim.


    It was enough to make the man hesitate. His now uncertain smile almost completely fell off his face before I decided he was at least scruffy enough to look the part of an adventurer. From what I knew, they were little more than hired vagrants.


    ¡°This isn''t the gardens,¡± I said, lowering my sword, but not sheathing it. ¡°It''s the orchard. Return past the wooden gate and follow the path up the steps. You cannot miss it.¡±


    ¡°Right, right. Got it.¡±


    The man nodded.


    Only now lowering his hands, he retreated a few steps and turned around¡ªand then kept turning, until he was facing me again.


    ¡°So, out of curiosity, do all the noble ladies here need to have swords on them? Or just the ones who regularly fight off falling pieces of cake?¡±


    The abject humiliation almost caused my arm to shake.


    As I thought up a passable excuse, I defaulted to keeping my scowl in place.


    It was the one expression my parents had drilled in me to maintain when in public, since it was apparently better than looking bored and haggard. And I was exceptional at it. I didn''t have many praiseworthy achievements, but maintaining a scowl for a family record of 336 consecutive hours including sleep was one of them.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The man looked uncertainly at me as I willed my brain to spin faster.


    And then I thought up a wonderful solution.


    ¡°Oh ¡­ Ohhhhoho! What in heavens are you referring to? What sword? What cake?¡±


    ¡°H-Huh? The sword in your hand? The cake you threw in the ...¡±


    ¡°There is no sword and no cake. I declare this as a member of royalty.¡±


    The man looked at me in utter confusion. I smiled victoriously inside.


    That''s right ¡­ when unable to answer a question, simply stamp the unyielding boot of authority instead!


    Why, this man was a self-confessed wayfarer and a clear commoner! Why should a princess need to explain her royal functions? Whether it be napping in the grass or slicing cake, every action I took was a calculated decision in service to the realm!


    ¡°Royalty ¡­ ?¡±


    The man looked puzzled. After a moment, he clicked his fingers.


    ¡°Aha! Then ¡­ you must be ¡­ uh ¡­¡±


    ¡°Princess Juliette.¡±


    ¡°Princess Juliette! Of course, I should have known. Your breathtaking mastery of singing is known far and wide across the continent!¡±


    I winced. My singing certainly was breathtaking. My mother once said that if I ever sung in a foreign land, it would be taken as a declaration of war.


    However ... that was before the rigorous hours of vocal training, breathing techniques and pitch exercises I''d subjected my maids to!


    Indeed, if this unbiased and unpaid man was complimenting my humming, then perhaps it was proof that I''d outgrown the ability to shatter glass ¡­ ?


    ¡°T-Thank you ¡­ but I rarely offer the public the opportunity to hear my singing voice. In truth, I''m afraid I still have little confidence in it.¡±


    ¡°Oh. In that case, yeah. To be honest, I only came here because I thought an animal was dy¡ª¡±


    I opened my mouth, ready to shout for the guards to arrest this heinous criminal at once.


    And then I felt the drop of rain hitting my forehead.


    Terror seized me. I looked up at the sky, then marvelled and cursed in equal measure at how the few clouds to have inhabited the sky now seized this moment to choose a far greyer colour to adopt.


    Again, another raindrop struck me. It was light and refreshing. And that''s how it lured the innocent into not immediately dashing for cover.


    A sudden onset of spring rain was common in this kingdom. It came and went like the tides. And while I would normally still make for shelter, that would mean abandoning my most cherished possessions for the damp and mud.


    ¡°Yes, well, um, will that be all?¡± I discreetly stepped towards the shrub where the book and shortcake were hidden, hoping this would also signal the end of our impromptu conversation. ¡°If so, Sir Oddwell¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oxwell. And I''m no knight.¡±


    ¡°Very well, Mr. Oddwell. My time is very precious and I have matters of statecraft to attend to. Do you require any additional directions or ¡­ ?¡±


    The man gave me a strangely pained smile. Understandable. A chance meeting with a princess was undoubtedly any commoner''s foremost dream. But I would not sacrifice my precious volume or second lunch to entertain his happiness.


    ¡°Hm? Well, sure. Don''t suppose you could tell me where the bathroom is around here? I''ve been kinda dying to go since ten minutes ago ...¡±


    T-This man!


    What was he saying to a princess?! And the lack of tact! Just leave!


    ¡°There ¡­ There are public bathrooms in the guest quarters. You will have to return where you came, then find the clay roofed building adjacent to the portcullis.¡±


    ¡°Got it, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, then I''ll just¡ª¡±


    ¡°By the way, uh, why have you drawn your sword again?¡±


    It was just as the man said.


    I''d drawn my sword again. But it wasn''t to shoo away this highly talkative commoner, who likely had no inkling of the number of etiquette laws he was breaking by maintaining this conversation.


    No, it was for a far more important function.


    Umbrella duty.


    With a flick of my wrist, I batted away the next raindrop that had beelined its way towards the shrub. And then the next. And then the next after.


    As I bemoaned the contemptuous state of our kingdom''s weather, I looked towards the man, whose eyes had strangely widened.


    ¡°It is, um, improper for my dress to become wet.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    His abrupt, almost shocked response caught me by surprise. I paused for a moment in thought, before realising that as a wayfarer, he likely took both mud and rain in his stride.


    ¡°I cannot allow the rain to seep into my dress,¡± I kindly explained, even if this wasn''t the primary calamity I was avoiding. ¡°It would be unsightly. A princess cannot wander the grounds with their sodden garments clinging to their skin.¡±


    Yes ¡­ just like an adventurer.


    Although the rain had only been falling for mere moments, already I noted the clear dampness where the rain was falling across his shoulders and hair. And yet he seemed either oblivious or careless to it ¡­ even as some of it landed in his open mouth.


    ¡°With ¡­ With that?¡±


    He looked plainly towards the direction of my sword, held over my head as I swished away the hastening raindrops.


    ¡°Yes? I currently lack an umbrella.¡±


    ¡°An umbrella? You''re using your sword as an umbrella to¡­ to cut away the rain?¡±


    ¡°... I''m just preventing my dress from becoming wet?¡±


    I looked at this man in confusion. Far from my simple answer stating what should have been plainly obvious, he instead viewed me with ever widening eyes.


    This ¡­ This right here. This was precisely why I never spoke with commoners. That and the fact that the guards usually did a much finer job at keeping them at a distance. How was I supposed to explain an action as simple as protecting myself from the rain in easier to understand terms? Perhaps I should use hand gestures? Pictograms? Chest beatings?


    Or could it be ¡­


    Ah-hah! I understood now!


    ¡°Oh, of course. I see now the sword by your side. I apologise, I did not take you as a swordsman. As you say, you are certainly no knight.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    I smiled kindly, embarrassed I did not spot the real issue at hand sooner.


    He must have been rendered speechless by the sword I was holding onto.


    ¡°Yes, this is the fabled rapier, Starlight Grace. One of the treasures of the kingdom, originally forged for my great-great-grandmother from ore claimed to have been carried from the stars. Sadly, the truth is that it''s assuredly terrestrial in make. Even so, it radiates a splendid light, wouldn''t you say?¡±


    Of course, even if he didn''t know the tale, he would still be able to appreciate my sword. It must be shocking to suddenly see such a storied blade being utilised before his eyes. I was remiss to not take such a consideration into account before wielding it.


    I suppose that the charitable action to undertake was to demonstrate its luminous qualities. He certainly wasn''t touching it.


    Knowing I now had an audience, I swung more than necessary, sweeping a line of rain away in a crescent. A sparkling trail was left in its wake.


    ¡°A wondrous sword, isn''t it? Of course, I understand your wish to hold it, but I must decline. This is a royal heirloom, and cannot be handled like a public curiosity.¡±


    ¡°N-No, Princess ¡­ That''s not what ¡­ How are ¡­ Where did you learn to do that?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°That.¡±


    The man continued staring at my sword, even as I was forced to quicken my strikes to fling away each and every raindrop.


    In truth, I didn''t know how to answer. The light was certainly impressive. But it was purely a function of the blade''s meticulous craftsmanship, and also a dose of magic. I could hardly take credit for it. All I was doing was swinging the thing.


    ¡°I''m afraid I don''t know? It''s a natural effect of using this sword.¡±


    ¡°... I see. So the sword and wielder are one.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    I offered a querying tilt of my head. What I received back was a stiffening of shoulders and a straightening of the back, much like a guard jumping to their feet after being caught dozing by the inner gate.


    ¡°I apologise, Princess Juliette. It appears that I''ve been more than impolite. I''ve been impudent. Yet if I may be ruder still, may I inquire as to your swordsmanship grade?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    I was so stunned that I allowed my hand to falter for a moment. I quietly groaned inside as my eyes glanced to the hint of bright red peeking beneath the leaves, then set my sword back to work on ensuring it remained bright red.


    ¡°Yes ¡­ which grade are you?¡±


    ¡°I have no grade,¡± I said simply, believing well and truly that this man didn''t possess a single marble behind his eyes. ¡°Why should I need one?¡±


    I''m a princess, for heaven''s sake!


    In what world would I be graded for my swordsmanship? Furthermore, what would that achieve? It was one thing to be chided by my tutors at courtly etiquette. To be yelled at by the master-at-arms for failing to beat up a straw dummy was quite another.


    ¡°I see ¡­ so you are above such things. Truly remarkable.¡±


    ¡°W-Well, in a manner of speaking?¡±


    I responded uncertainly to this strange man. More and more, I was wondering whether I needed to call the guards or the physician. Particularly to his lack of tact.


    As I busied myself with shooing away the rapidly pelting spring rain, the man continued to ogle both me and my sword without any indication that he intended to excuse himself. The sheer blindness to social cues would never have occurred with any dignitary. Or indeed, anyone with eyes.


    ¡°Princess!!¡±


    ¡°Hiee! Y-Yes?! What is it now?¡±


    All of a sudden, the man let out a loud exclamation and bashed his fist against his chest. I jumped in fright, then despaired at the thought I truly had to communicate via chest bumping.


    ¡°Please, Princess! If you''ve yet to receive a grade, I ask ¡­ no, I beg you! Allow me the opportunity to do so! Let me grade you!¡±


    ¡°Grade me?!¡±


    The man nodded. His expression was creased with unyielding seriousness. Bizarrely, he paid no heed to the rain dribbling down the front of his hair. It was as though the fire in his eyes burned away the wet and cold.


    ¡°Yes, Princess! Though a mere adventurer, I have some small renown with a sword! Please allow me the honour of grading your ability! It is, frankly, inexcusable it hasn''t been done already!¡±


    The man''s hand went to the sword hilt by his side.


    My mouth fell open.


    If a guard saw such an action being taken towards me, he would be hauled away in chains. And if he was lucky, still with his head on!


    Even conscious of my mouth being wide open, I lacked the capacity to correct myself. Aside from my sword still dutifully whacking the falling rain away, I was paralysed by the audacity of the request.


    ¡°Sir Oddwell¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oxwell. And I''m no knight.¡±


    ¡°Whoever. I cannot even consider entertaining this request. Not only is there nothing to grade, but such a thing would be utterly against all codes of conduct. Even bearing in mind your common station, it''s inexcusable that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Princess!¡±


    To my absolute shock, this grown man promptly dropped to both knees. A squishing noise sounded as his well-travelled clothes came into contact with the damp grass.


    ¡°I beg you this favour! Order me gone, kick me out or arrest me! But first, allow me to test the strength of your sword!¡±


    I looked at him in horror.


    Once, I''d had a young nobleman propose marriage by prostrating himself before a shocked hall. Another time, I''d had an entire tray of wine spilled on me by a blundering maid. Neither event fazed me half as much as the sight of a professional ruffian with unkempt hair begging me to undertake a swordsmanship exam.


    ¡°Th-That''s not necessary! Please stand! It''s unbefitting of you to beg in such a way! You ¡­ You must do so using one knee, maximum!¡±


    The man was unrepentant. He maintained his unsightly pose, causing my soul to wince with each passing moment.


    ¡°Princess, my request!¡±


    I let out a small groan. Especially as the spring rain now chose to peter out as swiftly as it''d come. That, I suppose, was a message from above.


    ¡°I ¡­ I could consider it ¡­ if the process is brief ¡­ very brief ¡­ and you depart immediately ¡­ how would you grade me ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°The only way there is, Princess!¡±


    The man immediately jumped to his feet. I looked on in horror as his palm nestled around the top of his hilt. He gave a fiery smile that matched the vigour in his eyes.


    ¡°With a test of steel.¡±

 Keep Reading/Listening on Amazon’s Kindle, Kindle Unlimited and Audible!

    </a>


    Hi there!


    Thank you so much for checking out the beginning to Juliette¡¯s noble quest to rescue her quality of life ¡­ and also her kingdom along with it!


    Book 1 is currently available on Amazon</a>, Kindle Unlimited</a> and Audible</a>. You can read more about my publishing announcement here</a>.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Book 2 is also now available on Amazon</a> & Kindle Unlimited</a>. The Audible edition is coming soon!


    There will continue to be chapter updates here and on my Patreon</a>. Due to Kindle Unlimited publishing rules, chapters will be removed as the books are gradually released. This will happen approximately two weeks before release.

 Kingdom Of Tirea Map

    </a>


    Here''s an updated map of the Kingdom of Tirea! You can click on it for a larger picture. This one features many additions, changes and fixes from before, including plenty of new locations. You can use it to follow along with Juliette''s journey. North is the Kingdom of Lissoine. East is the Grand Duchy of Granholtz. South is the Kingdom of Weinstadt. Locations outside of the Kingdom of Tirea are marked, but not named.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

 Publishing Announcement!

    </a>


    Hey everybody!


    Juliette is being released to the wide world of eBooks! This means more readers as I take a big step into the unknown. As a result, Book 1 of The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer (covering the Rolstein arc) will be joining the Audiobook in releasing on 29/08/23. The eBook will be available on Amazon via Kindle and Kindle Unlimited. It can be pre-ordered now</a>!


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Kindle Unlimited is Amazon''s subscription service for eBooks. It allows authors to reach a wider audience, at the cost of exclusivity. This means that once Book 1 is made available on its platform, it will no longer be available (in full) elsewhere. I''ve reached out to as many readers as I can through RoyalRoad, Scribblehub, Reddit, Spacebattles and Sufficient Velocity. As the number of new readers I can reach has now levelled, it is an appropriate time to slowly also begin making my books available on additional platforms.


    This is quite a terrifying moment for me. As I''m entirely self-published, I hope that when the eBook releases, you''ll be there to support my goal of feeding myself through writing, and in the process provide you with even more content!


    Thank you so much for your support!


    Book 1 will be stubbed on 24/08/23, a few days before the official release. I''ll add a note in the title to make it clear how many days are left.

 Chapter 316: Everything In Moderation

    Apple snorted as he trotted along the road towards the town of Marinsgarde.


    Bearing me at a leisurely pace, he mindfully allowed me enough time to do away with all the slightly damp blossoms which sought to cling to me.


    Nature being what it was, even the white maples competed to offer a welcome.


    The flowering buds drifted as a curtain of song and dew, orchestrated by the robins which hopped upon the branches.


    It made for a splendid sight, matching the streets of the town which awaited.


    Boasting the closest market to the Kingdom of Lissoine, Marinsgarde drew upon much of the haute couture which originated from our fashionable neighbour.


    As a result, it was only fitting that I should visit.


    Sadly, I was still masterfully incognito, and thus I lacked my favoured dress. A versatile gown sewn with 10,782 detachable rhinestones and the crystallised tears of those still plucking them off from my last request.


    Still, no matter what I wore, no garment was as important as my smile.


    My kingdom was home to many, yet even more still wished to reside in it. And so as a princess, I needed to remain presentable at all times, espousing the beauty and welcoming nature of this fair realm.


    A problem, then.


    Because despite my beauty and welcoming nature, not all were happy to be welcomed.


    Sometimes, they were quite the opposite.


    They were very grumpy.


    And also extremely rude.


    For example¨C


    Goblins.


    On and on they paused, wrinkling their noses before carrying on, ignoring the smile which had faded in favour of whatever appalled expression I was making instead.


    When it came to charm, they were slightly more affable than a hole in a wall.


    Famously grouchy no matter the season, they were known as much for their unsociability as their wish to remain out of sight and out of mind.


    Until now.


    Because far from doing ¡­ whatever it was goblins did, they were instead filling up my horizon like an unbroken queue of suitors at my door, each tugging a cart filled with pottery, tableware, paintings and even the nails which had failed to hold them down.


    I tugged Apple to a halt.


    And then¡ªfailing to see the end of the marching line, I lowered my face in my palms and sighed.


    ¡°... Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    Beside me, I peeked through my fingers to see my loyal handmaiden curiously eyeing the household wares which passed us by.


    One of the goblins paused to allow her a better look. She nodded. He nodded. And then the goblin left, mutual respect in their wake.


    I lifted my face, having seen nothing.


    ¡°... By any chance, are goblins looting my kingdom?¡±


    ¡°That depends on your definition of looting.¡±


    ¡°How many definitions are there?¡±


    ¡°For goblins? Loads. You might think they don''t do books, but they have an entire section in the library to themselves about looting. It''s like a life philosophy.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and what definition of looting would this be, then?¡±


    ¡°The type where they''d probably admit it''s just regular, ordinary looting. I''m pretty sure I just saw someone with a bathroom mat. And also the floorboard beneath it.¡±


    I let out a groan.


    Of all the things I couldn''t feign ignorance to, here was the second¡ªjust after Coppelia reaching into the bag of premium apples.


    I shooed her hand away, then looked towards the unending line of carts.


    I still didn¡¯t believe what I was seeing.


    After all, there was brazenness. And then there was this.


    One after another, they trundled by with the professionalism of caterpillars exiting an apple tree, their day of work complete before midday had even arrived. Whatever existed before no longer did. It was just an empty husk, the walls laid bare until not even the paint remained.


    ¡°It''sch impresshive, huh?¡± said Coppelia, an apple somehow in her mouth. She swallowed a gulp and beamed. ¡°Goblin efficiency. You guys have a lot to learn. The moment goblins decide to build their own Soap Island, I think your dreams of a soap empire will already have fallen.¡±


    ¡°And if that were to happen, I would acknowledge their contributions to hygiene gracefully. Looting bathrooms, however, does not count.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has to start somewhere. And to be fair, this is a bigger start than I would''ve expected. I actually don''t see this sort of wholesale looting too often. Isn¡¯t there a treaty and stuff?¡±


    I nodded.


    There was. Several of them, in fact.


    After a thousand years of warring, skirmishing and banging on kitchen equipment in the dead of night, a wide ranging and unprecedented series of accords had been hammered out between the goblin representatives and all major nations.


    A feat of diplomacy, brinkmanship, compromise and almost all the alcohol which the continent could produce annually used up over the course of 3 days and nights. And what followed were tears, fists and peace.


    A happy ending as storied as any to come from the realm of Ouzelia.


    And now I saw it being idly shredded in front of me, one cart at a time.


    ¡°Yes, there are treaties,¡± I said, my tone sombre and unfamiliar to my own ears. ¡°Treaties of peace, reconciliation and respect which have stood longer than anyone could have dared hope. To disregard them so openly is not only an insult to those who worked and drank so hard. It is an act of blatant aggression.¡±


    I tightly clenched my fists around Apple''s reins, my teeth gritting together.


    ¡°These goblins ¡­ why, they have no idea what looting in moderation means!¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    I nodded, the indignation rising with every moment I saw the works of my predecessors as wasted as the window frames now being taken back to a cave.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Do you know what the exact terms of the treaties are, Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it an agreement where you acknowledge their territory and goblins don''t loot you in return? And also something about not murdering each other. Too much.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it is. Naturally, both stipulations were broken the very night it was signed.¡±


    ¡°Really? That wasn¡¯t mentioned in any of the history books I¡¯ve read.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be. Nor would the fact that the ink used for the signing wasn''t ink, but simply sludge from a nearby bog. The unspoken agreement, however, remains true.¡±


    I furiously gestured towards the goblins laying waste to mutual understanding.


    ¡°... We turn a blind eye as they fully empty the occasional village and they ignore us when we strip and pillage their mines!¡±


    ¡°Ooooh~¡± Coppelia broke into light applause, impressed by the pragmatism of our peers. ¡°Mutual backstabbing, I like it! I¡¯m impressed. I didn¡¯t know goblins let you loot them.¡±


    ¡°Of course they do. Why wouldn''t they?¡±


    ¡°I mean, I figured if nothing else, you¡¯d be too busy looting other humans. The goblins never mention anything about this while backchatting you.¡±


    ¡°Nobody needs to mention anything. And that, Coppelia, is politics. A cordial state of affairs where everybody loots each other and then whistles while passing like ships in the night.¡±


    ¡°Uwah~ I never knew politics could be so fun.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it is for goblins.¡± I frowned at the scene. ¡°Daylight robbery within full view of every farmer, trader and princess to share these roads. It is shameless. Lissoine is just over the horizon. What will the tourists think when they see goblins idly robbing my kingdom? ¡­ Why, they''d assume that my kingdom wasn''t safe!¡±


    Coppelia raised a hand, then began counting with her fingers.


    She raised the other as well.


    ¡°Nobility. Pirates. Sisters. Liches. Women in racy underwear¡ª¡±


    ¡°Exactly. It would give the wrong impression. Everything needs to be in moderation. Except snacks. Regardless, if my treasury officials cannot waltz into every mine, then goblins cannot burgle every house. That is the agreement.¡±


    Thus¡ªI turned to the nearest culprit failing to understand the message.


    ¡°You there.¡± I clicked my fingers at the passing goblin. He paused. Slowly. ¡°Explain. What am I seeing here? Because it appears that my kingdom is being looted. This is entirely against protocol. How, exactly, am I supposed to feign ignorance?¡±


    A wrinkled nose met me.


    I wrinkled my nose back.


    Then, after an exchange transcending all words, the goblin pointed behind him at the next goblin, before duly trundling off again.


    I swallowed a short breath, then tugged on Apple''s reins.


    A moment later¡ª


    ¡°You there.¡± I clicked my fingers. ¡°Explain. What am I seeing here? Because it¡ª¡±


    The goblin immediately pointed at the next goblin behind him.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then tugged on Apple''s reins again.


    A few short trots later¡ª


    ¡°You there.¡± I clicked my fingers. ¡°Explain. What¡ª¡±


    The goblin pointed at the next goblin ¡­ who then pointed at the next goblin, who did the same with the next goblin behind him.


    One by one, an unending queue of goblins pointed me towards someone else to answer my queries. A battle of will, attrition and resolve which I would lose no sooner than when the last star fell from the sky.


    Until finally ¡­ 57 goblins later, I was greeted by a sight other than a pointing finger.


    The forest.


    Detouring away from the road was a newly created trail.


    Far from being hidden by the brambles and shrubs, it''d been paved by enough carts that it was now smoother than the road it joined. Branches had been removed from the overlooking trees, preventing damage to any wares being hoisted away.


    And all to thoroughly lay waste to any modicum of taste.


    In clear view for all to see, goblins were amassed around a tomb entrance.


    Stone pillars, faded walls, half a door and a crumbling roof were all guarded by a large statue fallen from its plinth. A lasting home for those who¡¯d trodden on the requisite number of peasants, but not quite enough that this was anywhere near fashionable.


    And now the crumbling stonework was joined by dozens of huts, scarcely more than open tarps hewn from the forest. Tables and chairs, most of them looted, littered this sunlit clearing, while a roaring campfire monopolised its centre, large enough that it was roasting an entire boar whole.


    And off to the side ... a dozen wooden outhouses sat beside a stream.


    I almost fainted on the spot.


    ¡°... H-How dare they!¡± I said, hands clasping around my mouth. ¡°Even for goblins, this is beyond anything I could have imagined!¡±


    Coppelia looked at me in confusion.


    ¡°Eh? You mean looting tombs?¡±


    ¡°What? No, of course not. I mean that.¡± I pointed at the outhouses. ¡°They have built ¡­ things to conduct their business!¡±


    Coppelia nodded enthusiastically.


    ¡°Like I said, goblin efficiency. Impressive, huh?¡±


    ¡°Efficiency?¡± I was almost insulted on the goblins¡¯ behalf. ¡°This is clearly more than that! I cannot imagine any way to set fire to decorum any faster! This ¡­ This is an infrastructure project! What¡¯s next? A rooftop bar to enjoy their spoils away from the rain?¡±


    ¡°Nope. Usually it¡¯s a market where they can fence their ill-gotten goods wholesale. In fact, I think they¡¯ve already begun building it. Want to stick around? The bargains for early birds are usually really good.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not sticking around,¡± I said, ignoring the playful smile poking my eyes. ¡°And neither are these goblins.¡±


    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I¡¯m pretty sure they won¡¯t be here much longer.¡±


    ¡°That is already too long. Looting tombs is something done overnight, discreetly and horribly as they perish to all the traps and carnivorous spiders waiting within. I see no mangled remains serving as a warning. This level of organisation is ridiculous.¡±


    I shook my head.


    No, I refused to accept this.


    Here in my kingdom, half the tombs belonged to my family. For them to be looted was ordinary, of course. They were filled with unnecessary amounts of treasure and riches.


    But to purposefully dally in such a manner?


    This wasn''t just audaciousness. It was utter contempt.


    ¡°... Very well!¡± I said, tugging on Apple''s reins. ¡°We¡¯ve seen more than enough. It¡¯s time to right a wrong precedent in the making.¡±


    ¡°Okie~¡±


    Emboldened by the blas¨¦ of my loyal handmaiden, I took in a deep breath, then held it in for as long as I could while Apple bore me forwards.


    After all, no matter how poorly goblins thought of us, it was little compared to the waft of ill will as each and every pair of eyes looked up.


    For a moment, all movement came to a halt.


    The boar roasting above the firepit ceased to spin. The bowls of some hideous gruel, beverage or both stopped at cracked lips. The glint of coins or jewels too precious to be loaded onto carts vanished into shadow.


    Only the knives continued to move, their wielders sharpening them against the fallen pieces of the tomb they sat upon.


    Eyes as black as night appraised me as I entered the midst of their illegal camp.


    And then¡ª


    The goblins wrinkled their noses, before utterly ignoring our presence.


    Low, indistinct chatter filled the clearing. Voices of suspicion and wariness. Which was fine. This was my kingdom, and I didn''t need the hospitality of tomb robbers.


    Only their reparations and their exit.


    Near the tomb''s entrance, Apple trotted past piles of everything waiting to be tossed into the next cart. Not even a sack to hide the possessions. The hedgehogs which invaded my orchard were more subtle than this.


    Especially when it came to the leader of these misfits.


    Unlike those around him, he didn''t wear rags pilfered from bottom-tier bandits.


    He''d proven his credentials by robbing their leader instead.


    His armour was almost whole. Leather made functional with bands of iron stripped from some soldier''s beaten cuirass. He had no knife by his waist, but a falchion one step away from being a troll¡¯s club.


    His greatest feature, however, was the white chef''s hat he wore upon his head.


    I raised a brow at that.


    How quaint. Either a chieftain or a cook. And that meant he was the most important goblin here.


    I tugged Apple to a halt.


    ¡°You.¡± I clicked my fingers for the 58th time. ¡°Explain in five words or fewer. Why are you looting a place for the departed? Furthermore, why are you looting it with all the eyes of the kingdom upon you? This is outrageous. You may as well place diversion signs outside, letting everyone know to give proper space for the robbery occurring.¡±


    The goblin deliberately stared at a twig in the ground, seemingly grossly intrigued.


    When it was clear I wasn¡¯t leaving, he looked up and wrinkled his nose.


    Then, like all the other goblins before him, he pointed.


    Except this time, it wasn''t to any goblin behind him.


    Instead ¡­ he pointed upwards.


    I looked up with the confusion this deserved, seeing only the sky peeking back at me.


    Yet as I returned my frown towards the goblin, the reply halfway past my lips was stifled by the fact he was continuing to point. And I came to realise he wasn¡¯t gesturing towards the sky.


    Instead ¡­ he was showing me the ring around his finger.


    One which possessed a dullness matching the copper it was forged from.


    My mouth opened wide.


    And though no smile answered me, the wrinkling of a nose ceased to be.


    ¡°We ain''t looters,¡± said the goblin, the faintest hint of amusement in his gruff tone. ¡°... We''re adventurers.¡±

 Chapter 317: Professional Adventuring

    Goblins.


    Not even history recalls when the first stone was thrown. Only that when it was, it was followed by a thousand years of antagonism.


    Sometimes this took the form of strongly worded letters, which goblins used as fashion accessories. What the goblins sent back was still never clear, except for the fact that none of them were good at drawing.


    Other times, however, it was more than wasted words and crude illustrations which were exchanged.


    It was arrows and swords more barbed than any insult.


    Yet though war with goblins was a terrible thing, few soldiers were ever sent to experience it.


    Goblins were as nomadic as the seasons, delving as deep as the dwarves and as far as the elves. They carved homes beneath mountains and deep into forests, and rarely did their defences suffer for it.


    Thus, when it came time to pillage the goblins in response to a response which came at the heels of another response, it was not scores of knights who were sent to become lost in the bottomless swamps and trapped labyrinths which awaited.


    It was mercenaries, hedge wizards, wayfarers ¡­ and adventurers.


    Whether it was the promise of gold or the promise of acclaim, it took little for the adventurers of yesterday to stroll daringly into the abodes of goblins. And it took even less for goblins to do away with them accordingly.


    But that was then. And this was now.


    Now, to wander into their caverns was a faux pas met by wrinkled noses as much as poisoned arrows. A status quo which everybody enjoyed, particularly the goblins who relied on official trespassers for archery practice.


    Even so, the history between goblins and the guild was as stained as the welcoming mat I saw being hoisted away. And although peace sown by mutual distrust now prevailed, the memories undoubtedly lingered.


    That was why¡ª


    ¡°Excuse me? ¡­ Could you please repeat that?¡±


    I leaned forwards from atop Apple¡¯s back, hand shielding the non-existent breeze from my ear.


    After all, I''d just heard something unfathomable.


    Something so bizarre that the sight of a new maid who didn''t end the day attempting to resign drew less questions from me. Especially since they were probably an assassin.


    In response, the goblin before me nudged his white chef''s hat slightly, moving it from perfectly straight to slightly off-balanced.


    ¡°We ain''t looters,¡± he repeated, his tone almost bored were it not for the tinge of humour glinting within his dark eyes. ¡°We''re adventurers.¡±


    He wagged his finger, still pointing upwards.


    I scarcely saw it, blinded instead by the anvil of confusion my mind was being hammered against.


    But eventually, the ring came into focus.


    The dull copper failed to flash in the sunlight, but I caught it nonetheless. The only hint of jewellery not to be hidden away like acorns buried by rampaging squirrels out to rob another tree.


    I defaulted to a beautiful smile.


    It was as strained as yarn given to a cat, yes, but a beautiful smile nonetheless.


    ¡°My apologies, but it¡¯s been a tiring few weeks for me. Other than sleeping on my magical enchanted bed, I¡¯ve had little chance to rest. I must have misheard. Again. Did you just say you were ¡­ adventurers?¡±


    The goblin turned his hand around to study his ring, despite the fact it made no difference to the viewing angle.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he answered simply.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    I gave the goblin¡¯s words a moment of consideration.


    And then I offered the only response I could.


    A look of outrage so palpable that all around me nodded in satisfaction.


    ¡­ Why, they should be quivering under the weight of their own shame instead!


    This ¡­ This was the worst falsehood I''d heard since Coppelia claimed that the reason hazelnuts were missing from the croissants was because they¡¯d been slowly absorbed by the pastry!


    Goblins? As adventurers?


    They were more likely to be tour guides instead!


    Indeed, goblins viewed adventurers with nothing but the disdain they deserved! And for good reason! Someone had to clean up the mess which occurred all over their deadly traps! That was an experience which would sully any opinion!


    For goblins to be adventurers was something which simply didn''t happen ¡­ ever! It was a stamp on their pride greater than the boots which ruined the mud in their tunnels!


    ¡°H-How dare you offer such a flimsy defence!¡± I said, utterly appalled by the lack of effort. ¡°You cannot just don a copper ring and call yourselves adventurers!¡±


    ¡°Why not? They loot. We loot.¡±


    I thought for a moment.


    ¡°Yes, true,¡± I admitted. ¡°And I have no argument against that. But even so, ''adventurer'' as a profession is a protected term ¡­ somehow. Through all their weaving through politics, they''ve somehow captured the word for themselves. As a result, you first need to accidentally save enough cats to earn the approval of the guild.¡±


    I gestured towards the tomb. A goblin exiting with a shiny goblet in his arms paused.


    He quietly tried stuffing it down his rags. I decided to allow him to keep it.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°... This means that until that first layer of bureaucracy is navigated, this is duplicity on top of looting! You cannot declare yourselves adventurers and burgle at will! Even they need a minimum of justification! This is robbery through misrepresentation!¡±


    Far from paling at being outed, the goblin only wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°This ain''t misrepresentation.¡±


    ¡°No? Then what do you call this? Interest-free borrowing, perhaps?¡±


    The goblin paused.


    ¡°Ye¨C¡±


    ¡°Pick a different answer.¡±


    ¡°This is work.¡± The goblin sniffled, as if the very concept was uncomfortable to him. He shrugged the peculiar sensation aside. ¡°... This is a copper ring issued to me by the guild. And I''m officially an adventurer.¡±


    A pair of dark eyes glanced at the ring disgracing my own finger.


    Even without the accompanying smirk, I could hear the laughter ringing as clear as the knives being sharpened in the backdrop.


    ¡°... Just like you, eh?¡±


    I turned to Coppelia at once.


    She was already studying what the goblin wore.


    ¡°Mmh~ it''s a real copper ring,¡± she said, leaning this way and that. ¡°Or rather, a real adventurer''s copper ring. They all have a tiny amount of magic in them. The same signature. It''s what the receptionists work with to record stuff down.¡±


    ¡°There you have it.¡± The goblin stretched his jaw in a silent yawn. ¡°Bona fide ring. Bona fide adventurer.¡±


    I briefly closed my eyes, then swallowed a deep breath, hoping that comprehension was one of the things I accidentally inhaled.


    ¡°Very well, then ¡­ if I may inquire, Mr¨C¡±


    ¡°Snotrag.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Goblin, for what possible reason could you have chosen to join the guild? To my knowledge, that is an organisation goblins have held nothing but acrimony towards for as long as your homes have contained even a single clay pot to be searched.¡±


    In response, the goblin reached into a pocket.


    Out came a yellowed piece of parchment. He unfolded it, then rotated it around several times.


    ¡°I, Goblin Name, have always aspired to join the Adventurer''s Guild,¡± he said, eyes narrowing as he slowly read the words written in large lettering. ¡°Ever since I was a small child, I have dreamed of fame and fortune. But more than that, I have wished to bridge the gap between goblins and non-goblins. I believe that by proving myself beneath the eyes of the world, I can further the image of goblinkind for all to see, in the hopes of furthering the lasting peace which now exists between us.¡±


    Apple snorted, his hooves digging at a clump of buttercups.


    I was in full agreement.


    ¡°Excuse me?! You are clearly reading from a prepared note! Who is ''Goblin Name''?! ¡­ These are not your words!¡±


    The goblin stared at me.


    And then ¡­ he reached into his pocket once more.


    ¡°I confirm these are my words,¡± he said, slowly reading from a second note. ¡°As I am unused to conversation with non-goblins, it is necessary for me to have written down my thoughts beforehand, in order to ensure that my objectives are not miscommunicated. If I have made any error, please rest assured that it is only due to untold stress. I am in the middle of a custody battle for my eight children.¡±


    The goblin frowned, pausing as he re-read the last line.


    ¡°... I am not undergoing a custody battle,¡± he said, his shoulders drooping slightly. ¡°It is only at the petitioning stage.¡±


    I immediately poked the back of his parchment.


    ¡°I do not care what legal issues plague you. This is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That''s what I told Martha.¡±


    ¡°Not that. This.¡± I gestured at everything. All at the same time. ¡°Even should I generously assume that you didn''t scoop up this ring from those idiotic enough to fall into a spiked pit, being an adventurer doesn¡¯t give a carte blanche to desecrate tombs at will. The optics of that for furthering goblin relations is very poor.¡±


    The goblin scratched his ear.


    ¡°I''d argue that the optics of sitting back is worse. This tomb is filled with giant rats. We''re stopping them from breeding.¡±


    ¡°It''s a tomb,¡± I said, thoroughly exasperated. ¡°It''s always filled with giant rats.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Because nobody else wants to deal with them. Except us.¡±


    ¡°A beloved service, then. But does subjugating giant rats necessitate removing all the tableware far across the horizon as well?¡±


    ¡°It helps,¡± said the goblin without shame. ¡°And by right of triumph, we''re also due a small portion of the treasure we liberate.¡±


    The sound of four small figures collapsing under the weight of an entire pilfered bar counter promptly came from the side.


    More than one groan seeped out, lost beneath the woodwork.


    The goblin in front of me looked over, then shrugged.


    ¡°... Lots of small portions.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes as I leaned closer, peering through whatever loophole he was hoping to stretch.


    ¡°The portions will need to be considerably smaller. This is a breach of the treaties.¡±


    ¡°There''s been no breach. This is¡ª¡±


    ¡°This is an unworthy attempt at besmirching the Adventurer''s Guild. And while I appreciate all efforts to undermine their name, it will not come from looting tombs more than they already do.¡±


    The goblin blinked.


    He eyed the ring dirtying my finger as he betrayed a look of confusion. I chose not to correct him.


    After all, I was hardly done.


    ¡°I demand that every item that¡¯s been removed be returned,¡± I promptly informed him. ¡°Any profits you¡¯ve already accrued through sales needs to be relinquished. You will write a formal letter of apology, preferably using words and not pictures. Only after may you depart for your territory to submit whatever arguments you wish to be ignored. I suggest you have reparations prepared to quietly sweep this episode beneath the bulging diplomatic carpet.¡±


    I waited for the wrinkled nose.


    I received a frown instead.


    For a moment, only silence abounded as all movement in the clearing stilled once more. Even the knives ceased to sharpen. A warning like the calm before a storm.


    And then ¡­ it was broken by a scampering of feet as a single goblin rushed out from the tomb.


    Paying no heed to the lack of chatter, he stopped before us, wrinkled his nose at me, then whispered into his superior''s ear.


    A nod met him in answer.


    And just like that¡ªhe ran.


    The rest followed with professional efficiency. Tableware, carts, hidden coins and jewels, even hunks of boar were tossed aside with no thought spared to value or the desperate need to inventory what they were leaving behind.


    I was aghast.


    Why ¡­ the sheer rudeness!!


    They were supposed to flee in horror after I''d used one of them for punting practise! Not before!


    I hadn''t seen a hint of a single fruit slime so far! How was I supposed to improve my delicate gardening techniques without an appropriate target?


    The answer, as it turned out, came from the very tomb they''d looted.


    A trickle of cold like a falling raindrop tickled my cheek. Turning to the side, I was met by the sight of an ominous shadow seeping out from the entrance.


    What was dark before was now a shade blacker.


    Inky appendages reached out, clawing at the edges of the doorway like a dozen tortured souls all seeking to escape their stone mortuary.


    ¡°Ooooaawwwwwwwwwrrrrrghhhhhhhh!!¡±


    All that exited was an indecipherable gurgling.


    A sound of choking bile and boiling malevolence. Of frigid death and unquenchable sorrow.


    With it came a tremor. The very foundations of the tomb shook, an unnatural cloud forming over the clearing as the grass suddenly began to wilt.


    I gave it a moment''s thought, then nodded in acknowledgement.


    Vandalising, littering, waking up some unspecified horror and then fleeing the scene without thought to the indescribable amounts of inconvenience caused to the kingdom¡¯s princesses.


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    Coppelia tilted her head slightly, smiling as she always did.


    ¡°Something on your mind?¡±


    ¡°Only a little. I believe I need to offer an apology.¡±


    ¡°Really? What for?¡±


    ¡°For casting doubt on the goblin¡¯s claim. These are the most professional adventurers I have ever met.¡±

 Chapter 318: Historical Grievances

    Day turned to night as I stood before the tomb.


    As an unnatural darkness filled the clearing, I drew Starlight Grace from my side. Partly to help against whatever needless horror was approaching. But mostly so I could count the drooping of each and every blade of grass.


    I was going to invoice the goblins for all the costs incurred.


    The greatest of which was my time.


    I had things to do. And ensuring my kingdom didn''t end overnight because goblins decided to accidentally wake up the wrong avatar of death wasn''t on the official itinerary of browsing Marinsgarde''s fashionable boutiques and patisseries.


    A curious thing, then.


    Cliiiiink. Cliiiiink. Cliiiiink.


    Because our avatar of death was very much alive.


    The shadows seeping from the tomb didn''t disperse. But they did follow who exited.


    The very last goblin remaining.


    Or rather ¡­ a hobgoblin.


    Natural warriors and leaders, this hobgoblin was encased in plates of black iron, crudely but effectively strapped to the ragged leather underneath. Amidst the barbarous dress sense, only a gleaming moonstone pendant was at odds with his theming, hanging from a golden chain rather than hidden away with all the other stolen valuables.


    Their leader, then.


    Perhaps even a warlord.


    Unlike those who¡¯d fled, his size would not be bested even by an ogre. Although shadows billowed around him like a sickly cloak, his remained the greatest. A window of darkness preceding his every step past the entrance of the tomb.


    Indeed ¡­ here was an adversary who would cause knights and their steeds to pause.


    Although he carried no lance, his weapon matched them in length. A great flail boasting a chain so long the spiked head was dragged along the ground, scarring the stone as it went.


    Few could suggest a more fitting weapon.


    The hobgoblin had no need for delicate footwork or the fine edge of a blade when strength alone could see him overpower a small mountain.


    ¡­ But not, it seemed, the shadows which had seized him.


    They slithered like snakes coiling around their prey. But it wasn''t his figure which was now being strangled. As he stumbled forwards with the gait of a drunkard in search of the next bar, the black eyes I expected to find were absent.


    They shone with a white flame instead, the irises alight with magic.


    Or perhaps a curse.


    ¡°Ooooh~ now this is something!¡±


    Beside me, Coppelia leaned forwards with professional interest.


    I did the same. Except backwards. An unfortunate musk was being emitted from the direction of the tomb. Perhaps the goblins should have looted it earlier. Goodness knows the ones belonging to my own family needed airing every now and again too.


    ¡°... I take it the goblins didn''t flee simply to escape the displeasure of their superior?¡±


    ¡°Nah. That implies their bosses ever get mad at them. You need to have expectations for that to happen.¡±


    ¡°True.¡±


    ¡°Plus hobgoblins are usually too busy to check up on their underlings. They have their own things to do. Like hitting things. Really hard.¡±


    ¡°Then it seems this gentleman has struck the wrong object. Has he been cursed?¡±


    ¡°Worse. And that''s great. Glowy white eyes, a lack of balance and weird shadowy things usually means one thing¨Cmagical possession!¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and why would that be great?¡±


    ¡°Because I''ve never seen this type of possession before. Unlike mind control, someone usually needs to be casting a spell to direct him. The shadowy things are like a tether. But this guy''s tether isn''t going anywhere. It''s just floating about him. That''s pretty unique ¡­ I like it!¡±


    Cliiiiink.


    Before Coppelia could espouse her curiosity any further, the spiked head of the flail came to rest against the edge of the stone tomb.


    A crack filled the air, ensuring that what wasn''t broken before now very much was.


    For a moment, the hobgoblin ignored us.


    There was no bellow or cry of anguish. Nor was there any swaying to and fro as one soul fought for control over another. He simply craned his neck upwards, his scarred face taking in the sky he was single-handedly managing to darken.


    And then¡ª


    The hobgoblin looked down at us.


    Or rather ¡­ at me.


    Curiously, a light other than white shone in his eyes. A flicker of recognition, joined by a crease of the brows, a hardening of cheeks ¡­ and most notably, a stiffening of the shoulders.


    To my surprise, I recognised this sequence at once.


    Indeed, I saw it often ¡­ especially within the corridors of the Royal Villa.


    And so it was that the upright back was followed by the shortest of bows, measured to distasteful precision. The black iron creaked as the hobgoblin''s armour was forced into an unfamiliar pose.


    Sadly, I recognised this as well.


    ¡°Well now,¡± came a self-assured voice, calm, disregarding, and utterly at odds with the gravelly nature of all hobgoblin voices. ¡°I''d believed it was goblins causing the rancid odour in my tomb. But it turns out it was a Contzen. A fine omen on this long-awaited day.¡±


    I tilted my head in thought.


    ¡°Hm. Interesting.¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°... What is interesting, may I ask?¡±


    ¡°There are many ways to show respect, and a bow purposefully offered to skirt the demands of etiquette is not one which any servant has ever learned to display.¡±


    ¡°That would be because I am no servant.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not. They''re far more useful. There is only one group who would offer a bow so primed to begrudging respect. The barons wouldn''t dare, of course. The dukes are too old to care. The lords in the royal capital pretend that they do. Those lords left outside, however, possess just the right amount of resentment, lack of wealth and a misplaced sense of worth to delight in simple impertinence.¡±


    Hence¡ªI prepared my finest smile.


    It was no less than what any of my subjects deserved, after all.


    Especially when they were working so hard to entertain me at short notice.


    ¡°... I confess this is new,¡± I said, gesturing at the bizarre sight before me. ¡°As far as inane ploys go, possessing the body of a hobgoblin is certainly a point for creativity. It is rare that entirely new ways to embarrass your bloodline are discovered. Tell me, how does this lead directly into my family''s demise this time ¡­ my lord?¡±


    A derisive snort came from the armoured hobgoblin.


    He elegantly twirled his hand, waving away my words like he did whatever blackened foie gras this man clearly thought was too good for an entr¨¦e.


    ¡°Ah. And there it is. That famous Contzen disdain.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I¡¯m not aware of such a thing. Would you enlighten me?¡±


    ¡°Please. You need only open half an ear. Even after all these years, I can recognise it better than the sound of my own voice. I was hoping I was wrong. Or that you''d all finally died out. How nostalgic. It is not only your odour, but the very way you stand which repulses me. Your presence reeks of arrogance. Of hubris. Of vanity. It seeps from you. Grows. Like mould between the linings of kitchen tiles.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°That ¡­ That is the kindest thing nobility has ever said about me.¡±


    The lord in a hobgoblin''s guise wrinkled his nose.


    Whatever whiff he experienced, the look of discomfort was aimed as much towards himself as it was me. He shifted uncomfortably, as if to escape his own skin.


    Then, he simply sighed.


    ¡°... Lord Horace Montrevel,¡± he said shortly, offering even less of a bow than before.


    ¡°Princess Juliette Contzen, 5th in line to the throne.¡±


    ¡°Ugh. Gods.¡± The hobgoblin rolled his eyes. His shiny, glowy eyes. ¡°There''s at least 5 more now? Your family cannot keep infinitely spawning like this.¡±


    ¡°Rest assured that we will. As long as the sun continues to rise over this fair kingdom, so too will it be renewed by the smile of a Contzen.¡±


    ¡°Please tell me there''s a civil war on the horizon.¡±


    ¡°There is no civil war.¡±


    ¡°A normal war?¡±


    ¡°Not while our castles stand tall and our knights taller.¡±


    ¡°What about the Rozinthe Imperium? How have you not been annexed yet?¡±


    ¡°Rozinthe is not commonly referred to by that name any longer. Much of it disintegrated to civil strife. The Grand Duchy of Granholtz currently claims a significant portion of its former holdings.¡±


    "That farmstead?¡± said Lord Hobgoblin, his shock being the only thing I sympathised with. ¡°... How many years has it been since our least beloved King Cadium''s reign?¡±


    ¡°The third or the fourth?¡±


    ¡°There''s been a fourth?¡± He let out a groan. The sound of a jaw cracked as he accidentally palmed his face with too much strength. ¡°I hope at least that man''s ridiculous idea to remove all the clouds from the sky by attacking it with ducks has finally borne fruit.¡±


    ¡°More than that, actually. Enough time has passed that the clouds have now returned, yet only to provide the occasional sprinkle of spring rain. The great storms which once plagued this kingdom are now a distant memory.¡±


    ¡°Then it''s been too long. How has nobody robbed this tomb yet? I placed this ¡­ well, that doesn''t matter. But somebody should have found me long before now.¡±


    I raised a brow.


    ¡°And what, exactly, are you? Some poltergeist capable of possessing the bodies of others?¡±


    ¡°Poltergeists are strays with no right to linger. I am far more than that. As is tradition amongst the Montrevels, I am a trained mage before I am a lord.¡±


    ¡°Are you now? I had no idea. I''m afraid that was a rather short tradition in your family.¡±


    A glowy set of blinks met me.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°As far as I''m aware, there are no renowned mages amongst your family.¡±


    ¡°That cannot be,¡± came the protest at once. ¡°I left everything to my descendants. Spellbooks, tomes, stipends for tuition. Did some great misfortune take hold of my family?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. On the contrary, they¡¯ve been elevated.¡±


    ¡°Truly? Do we rule Marinsgarde now?¡±


    ¡°No. You now rule a farm.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°If my memory recalls, House Montrevel''s holdings were upgraded. I believe it was for a bout of minor smuggling across the Lissoine border. My congratulations, your family has the honour of earning its keep from selling wheat and wool instead of squirrelling away taxes. House Montrevel''s use to the kingdom is now infinitely greater than it has ever been.¡±


    Lord Hobgoblin''s jaw dropped.


    Perfectly understandable. Nobility who dealt only in matters of farming were usually beneath my learning. But when it concerned a lordly household now being held up as an example of our charity, it was knowledge worth sharing.


    ¡°That is an outrage. My family have ever been in the upper echelons of nobility.¡±


    ¡°In that case, you''ve little need for grief. To serve is to be held in high regard. Neither your peers nor your lambs may think so, but in the eyes of royalty, you have never been more respected.¡±


    ¡°I have not returned just to set my eyes upon flocks of lamb.¡±


    ¡°No? In that case, we have vacancies open for jesters and interviews are guaranteed for those of noble lineage. When are you available?¡±


    Lord Hobgoblin stood up straighter.


    A fleeting image of the man he once was flashed across his now scarred and doubtless much more agreeable face.


    ¡°An offer as equally insulting as the last I received from a Contzen. And so I provide the same refusal. All the more so for my newly gained strength. I have, to your detriment, been busy these past few centuries.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I imagine a plot involving an unhappy hobgoblin will spell the final doom for my family. Is this one some self-proclaimed child of a distant ancestor? A trueborn heir come to reclaim the kingdom he is due? If so, I must applaud you. Possession leaves less room for betrayal once the leash is loosened.¡±


    A snort to rival Apple¡¯s met my perfectly reasonable questions.


    This wouldn''t be the first time this happened, after all.


    ¡°Possession? Do not compare this to the tinkering of apprentices. What you see before you is the fusion of magic and mind, intellect and brawn.¡±


    ¡°You appear to have the ratio skewed, then. This is a poor trade for the hobgoblin.¡±


    ¡°The hobgoblin is now more than he could ever be, thank you. I despaired at one finding me, yes, but this is a stroke of fortune. If I¡¯m able to capture the goblins to my cause, then I expect it shall make your family''s well-deserved and frankly overdue downfall all the more efficient.¡±


    Hmm.


    Straight to the regicide. And so earnest. This was considerably better than what I was expecting from a roadside detour. But I suppose standards couldn¡¯t stay low forever.


    Competition for my derision was fierce, after all.


    ¡°Very well.¡± I nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°A simple wish. But as a busy princess, I appreciate the brevity. In respect of this courtesy, I shall provide one in turn. Unique as possessing a hobgoblin to settle your historical grievances is, there¡¯s one glaring issue before all the many others.¡±


    ¡°And what is that?¡±


    ¡°... Poke.¡±


    Without further ado, I raised Starlight Grace ¡­ and promptly reached forwards, sending the tip into the moonstone pendant hanging from the hobgoblin''s neck.


    Pwishh.


    It shattered at once.


    Wisps of magic escaped as shards of moonstone burst forth.


    A better reagent than it was jewellery, the gemstone was a popular alternative to arcana crystals for those with less means, less standards or very often both.


    I leaned back and smiled.


    And then I tilted my head slightly at the large hobgoblin, his eyes still glowing white, the shadows still swirling around his form and the flail still very much held in his hand.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± I offered a look of curiosity. ¡°Why has the possession not ended?¡±


    ¡°Likely because whatever you thought was its source is wrong.¡±


    ¡°Your pendant exploded.¡±


    ¡°It wasn''t mine. It was the hobgoblin''s. Frankly, I''ve no idea what it did. But I feel like I can smell clearer now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. You''re welcome.¡±


    ¡°I wasn''t thanking you.¡±


    A nose wrinkled towards me.


    And then¡ªit was followed by the lash of a flail. And all the shadows which propelled it.

 Chapter 319: To Soothe A Soul

    A songbird hummed in the background.


    A melody as beautiful as my smile. Yet this wasn''t the familiar chirping which followed me, woke me and prevented me from falling asleep again. This was the sound of sombreness. A frail lament for the sunlight whisked away by the sudden clouds.


    A moment later, it was also lamenting for the branch it was on ¡­ as well as the rest of the tree.


    Bwoooph.


    Splinters. Bark. Dirt.


    Little remained of the innocent maple as it practically disintegrated, bludgeoned by the sheer force of a spiked ball more suitable for a catapult than the end of a chain.


    The fragments blasted into the rest of the forest, sending scores of small animals and fellow birds fleeing for safety.


    They needed to flee even further.


    Bwoooph.


    There was no finesse. No technique. And certainly no apology.


    Just an overwhelming lack of regard towards nature and those who tended to it.


    A chain cleaved through the air as much as the weight attached to it. Even before the fractured tree finished groaning, the weapon swung once again. An unseemly flail wreathed in shadows and bitterness, drawing forth another burst of splintering bark.


    Left to right, that crude weapon lashed with abandon.


    A ceaseless windmill of destruction matched only by my etiquette tutor with a ruler and a bottle of merlot. Even so, I would gladly face that calamity over the gruesome weapon this adversary possessed.


    Yes.


    His complaints.


    ¡°... Pistachios!¡± he cried out amidst the swishing of his flail. ¡°I bribed your entire kitchen staff to learn this was the most favoured gift! I sent 74,819! Enough to feed a kingdom of squirrels! And instead of a swift elevation to dukeship, do you know what I received? ¡­ A query regarding why they did not come pre-shelled!¡±


    All I could do was groan.


    Especially if someone thought a duke''s title could be bought with anything less than macadamia nuts.


    Even so, the endless list of gripes continued to an accompaniment of wild swinging. Wisps of despair left my lips as I was forced to duck again and again, all the while flattening my hair for good measure.


    Yet even if my delicate strands were saved, both my eyes and ears were not.


    Frankly, a drunkard waving for a bartender was a more delicate sight than this. Despite the number of years this past nobleman of mine had nourished himself upon his own resentment, none were clearly spent on learning how to wield a flail.


    Already an ungainly thing, such a wild display before my knights would see them surrendering just to avoid the trauma to their eyes.


    And yet ¡­ it mattered little.


    What the swings lacked in finesse, they made up for in ruthless disregard for fatigue.


    Abusing the hobgoblin''s strength, all thought to subtlety was erased in favour of simply removing the witnesses to this crime against delicacy. The flail thrashed like a child''s toy during a tantrum. And utterly nothing else was required.


    Bwoooph.


    Indeed ¡­ this was an adversary beyond my expectations.


    As a weapon scarcely different to a cannonball swished over my head, I could do nothing but tightly grip Starlight Grace in vain. Because despite the lightness of my sword, a different weight dragged down upon my arm.


    No gentle breeze came upon the clearing nor the tip of my blade.


    After all, if I were to raise my sword now ¡­


    Why ¡­ that would surely reduce the size of the invoice I could demand!


    My teeth gritted together.


    This hobgoblin ¡­ he was being possessed by my own nobility!


    That in itself was a claim for trauma far beyond what any gardening technique could accomplish! Not even I could argue that! Yet if I were to punt him through half a forest as well, all the gold I''d hope to extort would be lost to the frivolous claims of additional nightly terrors!


    I ducked beneath another hopelessly optimistic swipe, then quickly turned to my side.


    ¡°Coppelia! You needn¡¯t help! This hobgoblin must not be¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wheeeeeeeeeeeee~¡±


    Beside me, a certain clockwork doll wore a bright smile upon her face as she skipped over the sweeping chains. As the flail returned, she alternated between legs, hopping over the deadly weapon like a spring bunny.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ and then returned to the problem at hand. Or rather, both of them. Nobility who overstayed their welcome and a crass weapon being lashed around like a failed whip.


    ¡­ Fortunately, dispatching one would mean doing away with the other!


    The flail struck into the hollow of a tree, briefly lodging itself before being ripped out again.


    It was more than enough.


    As the chain slacked, I dashed forwards and struck. The tip of my sword swiped through the chains holding the flail, snapping the steel as easily as I did a falling apple.


    Sadly, respite lasted only a moment.


    To my unending grief, it took more than swords to do away with the roaches of my kingdom. It took lessons in tactfulness. Few of which could be found as shadows filled the snapped chain, sealing it anew.


    A swipe promptly followed, so vicious that it bludgeoned through not one, but an entire row of gnarly oaks, their trunks groaning to a line of freshly hewn cavities.


    I was horrified.


    ¡°H-How dare you!¡± I said, pointing at what his descendants were going to pay for. ¡°These trees are the same ones which watched you fail in your own time! They do not deserve to watch it again! It is highly distasteful!¡±


    The flail came to a rest at last. It squished the mud where it lay.


    ¡°There shall be no more failure,¡± came the indignant response. ¡°I have waited for my time. And now it comes gifted with a Contzen at my door. Fate could not be clearer.¡±


    ¡°This is not fate. This is goblins. I am here for them, not you.¡±


    ¡°Goblins.¡± The hobgoblin wrinkled his nose. An act which would be exactly the same even if he weren''t currently possessed. ¡°See the ills which have befallen this kingdom. The worst I expected in my tomb were bandits.¡±


    ¡°Then you need to downgrade your expectations. You clearly never considered nobility who overstay their welcome. Frankly, you¡¯re as bad as the goblins¨Cand I¡¯ve neither the time nor the will to deal with both. I''ve no idea what my ancestors did to you, but know that you fully deserved it. Should you wish to absolve yourself, I suggest a graceful exit once and for all.¡±


    A look of pure gall met my suggestion.


    ¡°Deserved! Your family almost bankrupted me! Repeatedly!¡±


    ¡°Almost. Which means you were taxed the appropriate amount.¡±


    I waved away the reply to come.


    ¡°Yes, I understand. Nobody likes taxes. You don''t like paying them and I don''t like you not paying them. Even so, I see little need to haunt a tomb until the first goblin pulls you out from a jar.¡±


    ¡°I was not in a jar.¡±


    ¡°Well, then I hardly see why you should be surprised if it''s taken so long to find you. Jars are the first thing people go through.¡±


    The flail lifted.


    Shadows squirmed upon the chains like snakes writhing for blood.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Then I can assure you that your remains will be suitably interred into a jar to be discovered and buried at a later time. I may consider every Contzen a leech, but that doesn''t mean funeral rites shouldn''t be respected. I quite enjoyed mine.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    Ugh. To be threatened with a jar stuffing. And not even as ashes. Far from a lack of tact, there was simply no redeeming what never existed.


    And so as an unseemly flail rose high overhead, I knew there was only one thing I could do.


    After all, I was more than a princess.


    I was an angel. And while I wasn''t certain I could heal the mental scar of being possessed by a member of my own nobility, I could heal the vengeful spirit performing the possession in question.


    Ohohohoho!


    Yes ¡­ it was time to show my true qualities! Again!


    To soothe the centuries of unwarranted bitterness residing deep within the soul of this raging spectre! And that was to offer my healing touch! ¡­ But since I also didn''t want to touch nobility regardless of what they possessed, I would offer the next best thing!


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    My gentle words.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I held up my hand. ¡°Before you seek to stuff me into a jar, there is something I wish to convey regarding the status of your household.¡±


    The arm about to swing paused. A pair of glowy eyes narrowed.


    ¡°... Yes? What is it?¡±


    ¡°Although you doubtless feel aggrieved by your family''s current circumstances as farmstead owners, know that I spoke no falsehood. House Montreval has never been more respected. Far from feeling wronged, your descendants have taken to their new life with dignity and pride.¡±


    ¡°They are farmers.¡±


    ¡°Wrong. They are excellent farmers. They have acknowledged their transgressions and worked to thoroughly scrub the blot of minor treason from their history.¡±


    ¡°That is a blot as black as any cloud. It cannot be scrubbed. Only replaced entirely by a new history, written by a Montreval hand.¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And yet the crest of royalty says otherwise.¡±


    ¡°... The what now?¡±


    I nodded ¡­ and then I offered a soothing smile.


    ¡°Every product purchased by the Royal Villa is automatically deemed to be of the finest quality. It is an accolade greater than what any duke could earn, even should they empty their vaults to achieve it. And, ah, I do recall that the Royal Villa does actually order directly from the Montreval Farmstead.¡±


    The hand holding the flail suddenly inched lower.


    The flare of bitterness didn''t rescind. But it did still. For now.


    ¡°Truly now?¡± A back straightened once more. ¡°Our ¡­ products are now purchased by the royal estate, you say?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Wool, to be specific. Yours is quite famed.¡±


    ¡°And why would you not bring this up earlier?¡±


    ¡°My apologies. The crates that I see engraved with your family emblem are now such a common feature in my life that I make the error of forgetting it. Quite often, only the things which fill me with horror stick in my memory.¡±


    Lord Hobgoblin peered closely at me.


    If he discerned a lie, he did not show it. And why would he? I had told none.


    ¡°... Are you saying my family now has regular contact with the Contzens, then?¡±


    ¡°Of course. That is a joy those few who supply the Royal Villa deserve. Granted, it will mostly come through the doings of our stewards. But that is simply a sign that all is well. We''ve no need to regularly see those who have no need to be publicly berated. Your family, therefore, is one well on the rise. Far more than they were in your own time.¡±


    ¡°How much on the rise?¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose that depends on how Marinsgarde fares in the next few months. Noble households come and go. Even those ruling one of our most fashionable towns. I shall simply say that while your family has risen, others have fallen.¡±


    I placed a hand upon my chest.


    Although I offered a kindly smile, it was this token of warmth which caused the possessed hobgoblin before me to fall silent.


    ¡°Be proud,¡± I said gently. ¡°And do not allow the hatred of the past to taint the joy of today. You may feel regret at life, but know that you can be satisfied in death. Your legacy has more than endured. It has prospered. The wool your farmstead produces is so famed that we eschew even that of Lissoine¡¯s.¡±


    The towering figure leaned back.


    As he did so, the shadows which swirled around his form began to subside.


    ¡°Really? Better than Lissoine¡¯s, then? That is ¡­ well, that is certainly something to be proud of.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. The wool to come from Lissoine is far too fine.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Ours are more thick, then? Suitable for coats and robes?¡±


    ¡°No, they''re far too coarse for that.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°The wool is not suitable for use as a clothing textile. We buy it in bulk and use it as rugs for the stables, packing material and general rooftop insulation. Your family''s products are famed for their excessively low quality, but also their equally low price and disposability.¡±


    A moment of silence answered my enthusiastic nod.


    I waited for the shadows to finally die away.


    And then I continued to wait ¡­ despite the fact they suddenly bloomed like a swirling tempest.


    ¡°Oaawwwwwwwrrrrrrggghhhh!!¡±


    I was shocked.


    Why, to think that this nobleman¡¯s drive for vengeance was so unquenchable that even when he¡¯d seemed to finally calm, a whirlpool of ire would inexplicably burst forth from within ¡­ and it came in the form of a bellowing howl to shake even the forest floor.


    One which didn¡¯t come from the hobgoblin.


    Instead ¡­ it came from what hovered above him.


    The shadows converged, revealing the shape of malevolence itself. A faint image of malformed bones and stretched skin appearing amidst the darkness, garbed in robes and blackened flames. Only the hollow sockets of a skull where eyes had long ceased to be revealed any colour.


    They were white, burning with the same brightness as a hobgoblin now hoisted high into the air.


    The horror gargled. And from its clawed fingers, sinewy strands connected with its victim, revealing the truth of the shadows.


    The hobgoblin was not being possessed.


    No ¡­ this was far crueller.


    To be possessed was at least to indulge in the bliss of ignorance. Instead, his every movement was being controlled akin to a puppet dangling upon a string. A prisoner in his own body.


    And he was being controlled by this¨C


    A binding spectre.


    Cursed souls said to be raised by their own regret. They were mages whose worth went unfulfilled, laid low in life, and now even lower in death. Unable to rest, their goal was not to destroy the living, but to have them perform for them what they could not achieve while they still walked beneath the sun.


    And this one¡¯s face was currently twisting in undiluted rage.


    I stared at the sight, nodded, then turned beside me.


    ¡°... Ohohoho! Behold, Coppelia! The spectre which haunts this hobgoblin has fallen for my ruse! I have revealed its true form through my deliberate incitement!¡±


    ¡°Uwaaah~ he looks like he¡¯s had a really bad day.¡±


    The binding spectre raised its arms. The hobgoblin rose with it.


    ¡°How dare you!¡± came the bristling words forced through its victim¡¯s lips. ¡°You have cast a shadow over my legacy! My very name! ¡­ I will see this amended with blood!¡±


    The horror didn¡¯t wait.


    Hovering high enough to swing the crude flail without the impediment of the ground, it wheeled through the air before being released.


    Such was the momentum gathered in the spiked head, the weapon didn''t merely lash out towards me. It flew. Flail and shadows both launched itself from the captive hobgoblin¡¯s grip, striking directly towards me with neither grace nor thought.


    I was appalled.


    Why ¡­ to attempt to bludgeon me with such an unwieldy weapon was already poor enough! But to lack so much form that he simply threw it was unconscionable!


    A twisted spectre he might now be, but that did nothing to diminish his duty to expectations!


    Indeed, until the day his household was wholly stripped of their titles, he had a responsibility. If he wanted to see me murdered, he needed an overly complicated plan. That was how it worked. No ifs and no buts. Simply flinging a heavy object at me was an insult to all who¡¯d failed before and after him.


    That¡¯s why¨C


    ¡°[Spring Breeze]!!¡±


    Without hesitation, I drew upon all my indignation.


    Rapidly twirling my sword, I went through the familiar motion of punting the ungainly flail just as I would an approaching fruit slime. And my will proved the greater.


    With a satisfying pwoomph, I punted the unwelcome weapon towards where only the grey clouds awaited, their sudden appearance still dousing us in an unnatural darkness.


    ¡°What was¨C¡±


    The strings ceased to dangle.


    The hobgoblin stilled. And what little expression could be seen from either was one of shock.


    After all, I didn¡¯t usually do away with the unwanted gifts of my nobility so plainly.


    However, in this scenario, I would offer more than that. As improper as his choice of murder instrument was, it was one made in earnestness. And what princess would I be, if I didn¡¯t acknowledge that?


    ¡°Very well,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Although your heart has long turned to ashes, I can feel the sincerity in your words¨Cyes, even spoken through a hobgoblin. It is certainly preferred to the blas¨¦ I¡¯m more accustomed with. And so allow me to reply in kind.¡±


    I lowered my sword. All the sinews the spectre held froze at the sight.


    ¡°I see the centuries have been difficult for you. I dare say this is good. Regret is a gift more of my nobility could stand to acknowledge. But though you¡¯ve abandoned your adherence to etiquette, you have not your claim to nobility. I do not doubt that you once earnestly sought to strive for the good of your family, and through it accidentally better my kingdom. For this, I shall offer a final reward in recognition of that past service.¡±


    Thus, I began with my smile.


    A gift this spectre knew was so little deserved that his ghostly form began to shiver.


    But only for a moment.


    What shame he felt was calmed, for what came after was more soothing than even the gentlest of breezes.


    A ray of spring sunlight.


    Offered through a parting in the clouds made by a makeshift cannonball, it was to me the warmth which allowed me to nap at the drop of a shortcake. But to one who has dwelled in the darkness of their own mind, buried in some forgotten corner of a tomb, it was a flood of memories.


    ¡­ And also fire.


    A heartbeat passed, and all that could be heard was a hissing as the spectre¡¯s silhouette began to burn.


    As debilitating to a spectre as it was to a vampire, the robes soon caught alight before being followed by the stretched skin and skeletal claws. The flames sprang as though a candle had been set against the oil of a lamp. Even so, no attempt was made to escape into the darkness.


    Beneath the nostalgic weight of my kingdom¡¯s sunlight, a pair of shoulders began to sag.


    A hobgoblin fell to the grass as the sinews snapped and began to burn. And while the aura of resentment did not pass, where it was directed was now no longer wholly towards me.


    The spectre gazed up as the flames engulfed his form, staring into the sunlight.


    It burned away his pallid flesh. Yet far from leaving only the rotting bones underneath, what replaced it was the brief visage of an ordinary, if fatigued man weighed down by the world of courtly politics.


    ¡°... Macadamia nuts,¡± said Lord Montrevel, sighing. ¡°I suppose I shall have the opportunity to try again with King Cadium.¡±


    Then, with his parting words decided, he exited as all nobles did.


    With a complete lack of grace, offering the shortest bow imaginable. I accepted it with a roll of my eyes. He was no longer mine to chastise, after all.


    All at once, day returned as the clouds departed as swiftly as they arrived.


    Of the spectre, only a passing whisper could be heard. What remained instead was the humming of songbirds, the crackling embers of an illegal campfire and the giggling of a loyal handmaiden.


    She separated her palms, the scythe she¡¯d readied no longer needed.


    ¡°Heheh~ that wasn¡¯t too bad.¡±


    I gave a flick of my hair and smiled.


    ¡°Ohohohoho ¡­ naturally. Were it the spectre of some farmer, it would be a far ghastlier tale. But so long as it is my nobility which troubles us, you can rest assured that my gentle words will calm even the most bitter of wraiths. Thus, take note¨Cit is the ones who are alive which are the issue.¡±


    ¡°Got it! We need to make them less alive!¡±


    Coppelia nodded brightly.


    Her wording was somewhat different to what I was imagining ¡­ but it was the enthusiasm which counted!


    And so¨CI turned to other matters.


    A very confused looking hobgoblin.


    Free of the shadows which engulfed him, he scratched his head. Both his blinking eyes and lack of needless grief was a return to non-possessed normality. If there was any lasting harm, I didn¡¯t see it.


    And that meant neither would those collecting him.


    ¡°Ahem.¡± I offered a professional smile. ¡°Rejoice, Mr. Hobgoblin. I have through charity and nothing else freed you and added you to my invoice list. As you''re doubtless as relieved as you are puzzled, I shall make your next steps simple.¡±


    I gestured at the looted mess around him.


    ¡°There is a goblin plot afoot. I can smell it like this ¡­ well, everything which shall need cleaning before you leave. Would you be able to answer some questions?¡±


    The hobgoblin simply stared at me.


    Neither a smile nor a rush of gratitude answered. But just as I began to wonder whether I needed to initiate a special hobgoblin greeting first, he offered a nod.


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°Excellent! In that case, please tell me what the nature of what this ploy involving illegal looting and becoming official adventurers involves. I do not believe for a moment that goblins would willingly become adventurers, nor that the guild would so easily accept them. There is clearly more to this charade than meets the eye.¡±


    The hobgoblin blinked. He looked up in thought.


    I waited patiently.


    Then, after several long moments, I was rewarded with another nod, more certain this time. His shoulders stiffened. He took a deep breath.


    And then¡ª


    The hobgoblin pointed behind him.


    Darkness found me as I sighed into my palms, blocking out everything except the sound of Coppelia''s ceaseless laughter.

 Chapter 320: A Princes Patronage

    There was much to admire about Reitzlake''s market district.


    The colours of the kingdom were draped upon the sky itself. Banners and flags flew from rooftop to rooftop, their numbers matched only by the seagulls sitting upon the lining.


    And all below them was a feast.


    Merchants boasting fare dripping with lard thronged the busy streets, competing for the eyes of the many visitors the kingdom''s greatest marketplace demanded. Others offered toys, curios and junk of ever decreasing quality and ever increasing cost.


    Those fortunate enough to own their own shops ruled like emperors, stationing smiling maidens to draw those with thick purses and unsmiling guards to frighten those with sticky fingers.


    The rest were stall keepers, yet few begrudged their lesser presence.


    Costs for licences grew year on year, but so too did profits. Those who once staked their claims with gold now did so with iron. Once the market closed, the stalls still remained, bolted like masts on a ship.


    From Wirtzhaven in the south to Marinsgarde in the north, the finest and worst that the Kingdom of Tirea had to offer were on display, here to be judged, dismissed and then inevitably bought.


    Entrepreneurship filled the air of a busy spring day ¡­ yet it also extended to the ground as well.


    Rarely did the rodents of Reitzlake seek their scraps where none stepped. Like the strays which darted after them, they were well hidden by the hustle and bustle, scrounging what morsels they could.


    The ones which Crown Prince Roland Contzen watched were far more discerning.


    Even so, their odour managed to still be greater.


    The rats of Reitzlake, after all, were remarkably loyal to the city.


    ¡­ Or so he''d heard from Renise.


    Beside the sign of a bar constantly swinging from the coming and going of smiling customers, only two showed no interest in revelry.


    Roland watched as strangers from afar played the game of conspiracy in his kingdom. The rules they ascribed to were different from the ones he enjoyed. He at least wore a hood. The minimum level of subterfuge required. But perhaps it was a sign of good fortune that the latest tranche of diplomats from Granholtz were still more interested in indulging in their own games than that of their ruler.


    His were not the only eyes to judge them, after all.


    A young man and woman lounged upon a nearby balcony, the sweet words traded upon their lips starkly different to the ones they held in their thoughts. Loyal hands belonging to the Granholtz Deputy Ambassador, but not his superior.


    Factions. Rivalries. Suspicions.


    Although they served under one banner, they doubted if the shade of black they each saw was quite the same. And how right they were to. At least one amongst them was untrue.


    The Eyes of the Mirage rarely blinked, but here amidst the wiles of Granholtz and the glare of Tirea''s springtime, the Dune King''s observer betrayed a subtle smile.


    After all¡ª


    ¡°Hmmmmm ¡­¡±


    She was currently deciding whether or not to buy Roland''s fruit slime figurine.


    Eyes which could discern a lie from a truth as easily as a farmer gleaned a wolf from sheep peered closely, never once paying attention to the enormous amounts of sweat dripping down Roland''s face.


    Muscles which Roland never knew existed clenched. All the while, the frowning woman from the Kingdom of Dunes leaned slightly to the side, her serious expression almost reflected in the fruit slime¡¯s shine.


    She looked up with a gaze sharper than any of the knives she carried.


    Suddenly, all her focus was upon Roland. He felt as the hood he wore was being burned through. His throat gulped. The sweat seeped through his clothing and clung to his cloak.


    The Dune woman''s lips tightly pursed together.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°This ¡­ This is amazing!¡±


    She clapped her hands together ¡­ and then continued clapping in frantic applause.


    ¡°Why, I had no idea this kingdom possessed craftsmanship so fine! For clay work, this ¡­ this is astonishing!¡±


    Roland swallowed his saliva as well as his words. As he tried to speak, the words caught in his throat.


    ¡°The ¡­ ahem, the compliment is undeserved,¡± said Roland, doing his best to change his voice into ¡­ anything not his. ¡°But I offer my gratitude nonetheless.¡±


    To his surprise, the woman shook her head.


    ¡°No, no, no, no! I''ve seen markets all around the continent, from the Grand Bazaar in the Dunes to the Sunlight Festival in the Summer Kingdoms. But this ¡­ I''ve never seen anyone replicate a fruit slime so perfectly! And in the midst of a bounce as well! The detailing of the lines is exquisite!¡±


    Roland stood up a little straighter, then remembered to slack, pulling down his hood in the process.


    To be complimented by a member of the Dune King''s private circle was outlandish to say the least. Even so, a spark of pride lit up inside him.


    None knew his face.


    None knew his name.


    But all knew his figurines.


    They were masterworks of clay. If a swordsmith forged a blade with half the meticulous detail that Roland displayed while making his figurines in the middle of the night when he really should be sleeping, then it would be a weapon passed down the generations.


    It was his claim to fame.


    Beyond being the Crown Prince, that is.


    That was a title handed down to him. And while many, himself most of all, doubted his competency for the role, he took a sombre pride in the fact that even if the perils of statecraft proved beyond him, he could at least have a role behind his own private stall in Reitzlake''s market district.


    ¡­ Not least because it also allowed him to watch those who believed themselves far more subtle than they truly were.


    Renise would pale if she knew.


    Or explode into a horrified fit. Yes, that was more likely.


    There was no need for Roland to expose himself, after all. Especially since Rose House had been founded to assume the specific duties that knights were ill-trained for.


    However, while smugglers and thieves knew the city''s sewers and docks, Roland knew the boutiques, the brightly lit cafes, the private terraces and the finest restaurants.


    Foreign operatives may whisper in the shadows, but they certainly didn''t dine in them.


    When it came to identifying those whose eyes and gait betrayed both their origins and their purpose, Roland knew who to observe better than any other. And so he hid in plain sight. Just as they did.


    But better.


    So much so, that not even one who whispered directly into the Dune King''s ears realised who he was.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡­ Yet.


    Once again, Roland''s muscles clenched.


    ¡°... How much?¡± asked the woman, her look furtive and hopeful. She fingered her pouch, looking for all the world like a townsgirl risking her week''s wages when she had none to spare.


    ¡°5 copper crowns,¡± replied Roland, his merchant''s smile barely visible beneath his dark hood.


    ¡°Excuse me? 5 ¡­ 5 copper crowns?¡±


    ¡°Oh, my apologies. Is that too¡ª¡±


    ¡°That cannot be right! ¡­ It is barely more than bread!¡±


    Roland stopped himself from chuckling.


    A nervous chuckle, yes. But one he knew would be as telling as doing away with his hood altogether.


    ¡°I believe in making my wares affordable,¡± he said, declining to mention that as the Crown Prince, he really didn''t need to ask for any amount at all. ¡°My fruit slimes are popular with both adults and children, after all. But I do sell a more expensive range of figurines. That would be my dragons.¡±


    ¡°Dragons?¡±


    Eyes sparkled like an oasis before him. Roland felt an odd twinge of guilt.


    ¡°Dragons, yes. Unfortunately, they are already sold out for today. The models are particularly labour intensive, and there''s an unofficial reservation list I also attempt to honour. This fruit slime is, in fact, the last of my wares today.¡±


    ¡°I''ll buy it.¡±


    The look of disappointment was mercifully brief. In a flash, a handful of coins was being presented on Roland''s stall.


    He didn''t take it.


    ¡°Ma''am, um, the fruit slime is 5 copper crowns. This appears to be 5 gold crowns.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is.¡±


    Roland blinked in confusion. But only for a moment.


    ¡°... Ah, I see now.¡± He nodded in sudden understanding. ¡°You desire change. Is there a particular amount of copper or silver crowns you wish for?¡±


    ¡°I don''t want change.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°Please take all 5 gold crowns as payment for the fruit slime.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me? ¡­ I, well, I cannot possibly accept this.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense. You are a master craftsman. It''s horrific for me to even consider paying you anything less than what your skill is worth. I insist. 5 gold crowns. Please.¡±


    Roland''s mouth widened, despite his many years of etiquette training.


    A moment later ¡­ a strange noise gurgled from his throat as he watched the woman happily skipping away. Whatever her mission was, she''d seemingly forgotten it in light of the clay fruit slime figurine she''d purchased.


    Roland gazed forlornly down at his palms, at the 5 gold crowns accidentally donated to the kingdom''s treasury by a member of a foreign intelligence organisation.


    Then ¡­ he let out a sigh of relief.


    Not only that he''d preserved his identity, but also that those he¡¯d still followed throughout the horrifying interaction were no more. The diplomats and their minders had quietly dispersed, their order of business and treachery done for the day.


    The worst case scenario had not happened.


    Not here. Not yet.


    Those involved in today''s clandestine meetings were none of his own. But Roland knew it was only a brief respite.


    Soon, his lords, his soldiers ¡­ even his own knights would be approached by a whisper in the dark. A pouch of coins when the purse feels lightest.


    Just like how it was elsewhere.


    The contents of the letter he received from Renise concerning Hartzwiese were not entirely unexpected, but they were deeply unappreciated. The news of Baroness Arisa Sandholt''s tryst with the criminal syndicates of Granholtz had caused him to lose so much sleep that his guards had to prevent the castle physician from magically sedating him.


    Roland was sad he didn''t succeed.


    However ¡­ if there was any joy to be had, it was that he''d been saved once again.


    He was not alone in his endeavours.


    Rose House was paying dividends. They could not yet compete with the career liars of other nations, but Renise was nothing if not dependable. Especially in her inventiveness.


    In many ways, she was less like a smuggler and more an adventurer.


    And so that brought about his next order of business.


    Matters of patronage.


    Allowing a nod of satisfaction at the emptied state of his stall, Roland left the market district behind¨Cas well as approximately half of his subtlety.


    By the time he arrived at the Adventurer''s Guild, more than a few glances were spared his way.


    His hood was slightly angled, deliberately revealing the very tip of his chin. More than enough for those who claimed Reitzlake''s guild hall as their own.


    And for their part, they welcomed him with the closest thing adventurers could to discretion.


    It was widely known that the Crown Prince favoured the Adventurer''s Guild. A rumour he was more than happy to sow. Long before Rose House came to be, he''d sought the aid of the Adventurer''s Guild in the few matters where a wall of lances couldn''t suffice.


    Even now, he wouldn''t eschew their help. He needed it more than anyone else.


    The gratitude he now wished to convey was proof of that.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± he said, his voice strangely relaxed, as though instantly taken in by the raucous atmosphere. ¡°My apologies for the sudden request, but would Mr. Quinsley happen to be available?¡±


    Before him, the familiar receptionist offered a pleasant smile.


    As always, she humoured his lackadaisical attempt at subtlety by not querying his name. And also not breaking into a blind panic. But Roland wouldn''t expect anything else. Guild receptionists were famed for their professionalism.


    All the more so if they''d been hired by Timon Quinsley.


    A man of legendary repute, although few knew the true extent of his past.


    Even after all these years, Roland still found himself visiting the guildmaster''s office as often as he did while a little prince playing truant. The days of yearning to be an adventurer were over, but his appreciation for the guildmaster wasn''t.


    Especially as he''d yet to tattle regarding his indiscretion.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± replied the receptionist, her nod the only courtesy to his status she would risk. ¡°Regretfully, the guildmaster is away on an important errand. If the matter is urgent, I can attempt to relay a message.¡±


    Roland didn¡¯t allow his shoulders to sag. He was crestfallen, but unsurprised. He was hardly the only busy man in the kingdom, after all, and Timon Quinsley was likely the only person in Reitzlake whose door had seen out more people than his.


    He shook his head.


    ¡°That won''t be necessary. It is a simple matter of acknowledgement. Please convey, if you could, my deep appreciation for the guild''s recent role in maintaining the peace in Hartzwiese. I am deeply grateful that the people there may continue to enjoy its bustling market free of worry.¡±


    ¡°I will ensure Mr. Quinsley receives your message. I¡¯m certain he will be deeply appreciative of your kind words.¡±


    Roland offered a princely smile.


    And that was that.


    With Mr. Quinsley absent and his message delivered, his short business was concluded.


    Roland offered a nod towards the receptionist, then turned ¡­ and then continued turning, all the way until he was facing the still smiling receptionist once again.


    ¡°... Incidentally, I am told that a certain adventurer was instrumental in aiding Hartzwiese''s fortunes. I believe it¡¯s the same one who was also responsible for subduing the Smuggler''s Guild, as well as a host of other matters. A certain ¡­ Juliette, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that is correct.¡±


    Roland chuckled ¡­ although not only from his sudden bout of good mood.


    ¡°My apologies, I confess I¡¯m still not used to hearing that name spoken in the context of an adventurer. I''ve a younger sister by that name also. A sweet girl who is not prone to violence. I dare say she is quite unlikely to ever consider wearing the copper ring.¡±


    The receptionist stared.


    Her smile and posture were both as fixed as her desk. Roland gave a cough.


    A moment later, he retrieved a small item within his cloak and presented it to the receptionist. He hadn''t been lying when he said he''d sold out of dragons for today. But he¡¯d omitted that he was holding one in reserve, to provide as a token of his appreciation.


    A figurine of an ancient green dragon.


    In truth, he was more than a little embarrassed at the idea of presenting his own work as a gift. But it was earnestly made. And every adventurer possessed a deep seated admiration for all things dragons. He had no doubt this one was the same.


    ¡°It is a gift,¡± said Roland, putting aside his embarrassment. ¡°I had it purchased from a craftsman of apparent renown in the market. I''m told this is his finest work. If you could, please offer it to Miss Juliette as a fraction of my gratitude. Of course, there will be greater accolades once time and formality permit.¡±


    ¡°I''ll ensure Miss Juliette receives it. I''m certain she will be delighted.¡±


    The receptionist nodded. The professional smile warmed.


    A hint of recognition was revealed. Roland snapped it up at once.


    ¡°... By any chance, I don''t suppose you''ve had the pleasure of meeting this elusive adventurer yourself?¡±


    ¡°I have, yes. On several occasions.¡±


    The receptionist paused.


    ¡°... By accident.¡±


    ¡°I ... I see? Then those accidents were quite fortunate. Try as I might, it seems I have as little luck offering my gratitude to this adventurer as I do Mr. Quinsley. Tell me, what is she like?¡±


    For a moment, Roland received no reply.


    Fearing at once that he''d asked this dutiful receptionist to overstep her bounds, he swiftly made to offer her an excuse.


    Instead ¡­ he found the receptionist smiling more brightly than ever.


    ¡°Miss Juliette is deeply virtuous. I believe she exhibits all the qualities of an ideal adventurer. Her heart is matched only by the strength of her sword. I''ve no doubt that come even the deepest dark, she will continue to light the way ahead. And that she will do so while supporting the kingdom in every manner that she can.¡±


    Roland offered a genuine smile as the dragon was carefully received by the receptionist.


    It wasn''t often he allowed the hard gaze expected of a Crown Prince to fall. But for the adventurer who had chosen his kingdom to make a name for herself, he would offer as many as could be gleaned.


    Especially as each time her name was uttered, he was reminded of a different warmth.


    One of family. And of memories.


    Roland couldn''t help but chuckle as he thought of his sister, whose innocence was ever the flame which kept the cold at bay. So long as he was Crown Prince, he would work hard to ensure it would never fade.


    Fortunately, that dark day had yet to pass.


    The Royal Capital was calm. At least for another day.


    And while he didn''t know what Juliette was doing right now, he had no doubt she was relaxing with a joyful smile upon her face.

 Chapter 321: Open For Business

    ¡°W-W-What is this ¡­ ?!¡±


    My mouth widened at the scene before me.


    Creeping over the horizon, the town of Marinsgarde made itself known by the flash of its brightly coloured rooftops.


    Borrowing directly from the Kingdom of Lissoine, its many chimneys were decorated with shop signs, compasses and clocks, allowing those looking on from afar to glean which businesses to peruse first.


    To see Marinsgarde glinting beneath the spring sunshine was a cue for celebration. After all, it meant I would soon be admiring its many fashionable windows filled with overpriced curiosities the Royal Villa''s stewards would never recall purchasing.


    Normally, that is.


    Because currently, there was a problem.


    That wasn''t unusual, of course. There was always a problem. If it wasn''t something exploding, it was something about to explode.


    However ¡­


    Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.


    Of all the horrors I¡¯d survived, all the inn meals I¡¯d forgotten eating and all the places I''d witnessed turning into a ball of billowing flames, nothing had ever compared to this.


    Yes.


    I was currently experiencing my greatest hardship yet.


    Because as Apple bore me along the cobbled road, I saw little of the town''s famed textile industry at work, nor the gruelling sweat of those managing it.


    All around me, the fields outside Marinsgarde were empty of the farmers regretting their life decision of being born a peasant and not a princess. Only a scattering of daisies remained to colour the fields, the bright petals swaying merrily against a faint breeze.


    After all¡ª


    The flocks of sheep which usually devoured them were no longer in the fields.


    They were on the road instead.


    Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.


    Tiny lambs. Big lambs. And lambs so big they were actually just normal sized ewes.


    The sound was overbearing. The smell even more so.


    However, wherever I turned my nose in search of freedom, I only found them looking back at me instead ¡­ often via their head bumping directly into my leg.


    A veritable horde of livestock hopping, grazing and attacking me at their pleasure, all the while their fluffy coats remained waiting to be sheared.


    Apple did his best to escape the bedlam.


    He trotted along without pause. And yet they simply trotted along with him. Like ducklings to a very shaggy maned mother, the flock gathered around my noble steed.


    And that meant they gathered around me as well.


    ¡°Shoo, shoo!¡±


    I desperately waved away my assailants.


    It was like waving away my suitors in a soir¨¦e. One would leave, but another would come. All without invitation. Left, right, behind and in front, they disregarded my personal space as much as any notion of shame.


    Naturally, I was horrified.


    To succumb to the baying of a mob was the greatest fear of all princesses. But it was all the greater if I wasn''t even the sole target. An enterprising and far too optimistic lamb bit upon the designated pastry bag, sensing the buttery goods waiting within. I shooed it away with both hands.


    And then the next. The next. And then more next.


    After a while, I threw up my beleaguered arms in exasperation instead.


    It was just as effective.


    ¡°W-Why are there so many sheep here ¡­ ?!¡±


    ¡°Uwaaah~¡±


    Beside me, I was answered by the strangest cry so far.


    Coppelia, to my horror, was being lost amidst a surge of sheep.


    I''d seen her face fire and darkness, madness and magic, yet against the unrelenting onslaught of livestock, her strength and dexterity were no match.


    Especially as she appeared to be inviting them with a bundle of grass in her hand.


    ¡°Heheheheheh ... that''s right, eat well ... the Coppelia de Restaurant is always open~¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    Yes.


    They continued gathering around her ¡­ even when they perhaps shouldn''t.


    ¡°C-Coppelia! We are under assault ¡­ by farm animals ¡­ w-what should we do?¡±


    ¡°Hmm ¡­ I guess give up?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡±


    ¡°Well, there''s too many. Sometimes, you just have to accept fate. Warm bundles of fluffy fate. Hey, have you tried petting them?¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I most certainly have not! Why would I do that?!¡±


    ¡°Because it feels amazing. Look, look! The fluffiness! You can''t even see my hands!¡±


    ¡°Please, Coppelia.¡± I sat up straighter, all the while accidentally brushing against a lamb as I shooed it away. Over and over again. ¡°I am a princess. I cannot touch livestock. Why, that would be not only deeply appropriate, but also highly ¡­ w-why, is it so soft?!¡±


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°I know, right?!¡±


    To my shock, the wool I was mysteriously poking was beyond anything I''d ever felt.


    It was both fine and springy. Like a mattress demanding to be hopped upon.


    This ¡­ This was unprecedented!


    Why, even the silk I imported from the Summer Kingdoms failed to compare to the lushness of the lamb I was accidentally petting! And yet if such a fabric was available in my own kingdom, I surely would have known?


    My mind spun with questions.


    Was this the true quality of wool before it was sheared? Transported? Or perhaps before it was even spun into yarn? Clearly, a stage in the process was lacking. The raw ingredient certainly wasn''t.


    If ¡­ If this could be solved, then so could half of my imports being lost to banditry!


    A moment later, I was leaning towards each lamb, carefully assessing their coats while marking them by the shape of their ears and the curliness of their tails.


    Indeed, this one here could be made into a fine pillow stuffing ... and this one was also sufficient as a thick duvet ¡­ while this one was perhaps appropriate as an autumn scarf or a ¡­ no, wait!


    ¡°Shoo, shoo, shoo!!¡±


    Fearing for my standing, I straightened my back while attempting to nudge the horde away. It made as much of a dent as huffing at the clouds.


    Then, I let out a tiny groan as I simply accepted my place in this world.


    A princess beloved by even nature''s children.


    As inappropriate as it was for every animal to bump into my ankles, it was only natural that my aura of kindness drew all towards me. Just as the hands of my subjects wished to illegally steal a touch of my person, so too did the noses of my kingdom''s sheep.


    Yes ¡­ even if most of their attention seemed to be where the croissants were.


    ¡°I never knew your tiny kingdom had such a big petting zoo,¡± said Coppelia, giggling as she poked away the most aggressive of the lambs from the pastry bag. ¡°How come you don''t advertise this more?¡±


    ¡°Firstly, my kingdom is not tiny. It is as wide as the horizon currently blocked by a wall of sheep. Secondly, there is nothing to advertise. This is not a tourist attraction.¡±


    ¡°You''re right. This is better than that. Even in Ouzelia, there''s usually only one sheep to distract each group of smelly children. Here, they get an entire flock each!¡±


    ¡°Nobody gets a flock. Not even to distract children, worthy as that cause is. This is a prized example of my kingdom''s textile industry. And now it''s simply ¡­ marauding at will.¡±


    Coppelia hummed, all the while helping me inspect the best future pillows.


    ¡°Okay, well, I''ll put my hand up. I didn''t know your standards were so high. By letting your sheep rob travellers, you make sure they eat a variety of food and gain a whole bunch of life experience. I''m sure that translates into super fluffy wool.¡±


    ¡°Please, Coppelia. That''s just silly. Given the standard of most travellers, the quality of the wool would only decrease.¡±


    ¡°... Soooo, you''re not against your sheep robbing people in principle?¡±


    ¡°I''m against my sheep robbing anyone I don''t explicitly point at. Frankly, this is appalling. It''s one thing to be waylaid by brigands, but sheep is another matter entirely ¡­ just where are my farmers?¡±


    Indeed, no matter where I looked, I saw no hint of a bedraggled peasant.


    Those tasked with managing this flock were as absent as the bales of hay they were usually found in. While I regularly spied my farmers napping in the fields, I could equally rely on Apple''s snorting to ensure their lazing came to an end.


    Now even that option was missing. And I already suspected why.


    My thoughts turned to the looting I''d seen.


    Of the audaciousness which surely went beyond desecrating a single tomb.


    Indeed, if goblins lacked the tactfulness to at least empty a tomb during appropriate nighttime hours, then I had no doubt their mischief extended far beyond it.


    Had they now caused my farmers to flee into hiding? Their boldness was beyond anything I¡¯d seen since the signing of the treaties. Given their numbers, it would be little surprise if all the fields, farmsteads and barns were now emptied of my slacking peasants.


    Even so, to abandon their flocks so close to the town was beyond any explanation I could fathom.


    Indeed ¡­ something was terribly amiss!


    I could sense it like my mother in a suspiciously good mood. Except now I had no window to escape through. My only path was ahead. And now it was flooded with livestock which had no right to be here.


    With a deep breath, I turned my gaze towards Marinsgarde in the near distance.


    The decorations upon the rooftops and chimneys no longer seemed to gleam. The faint breeze which tousled my hair seemed to cease. A sudden stillness pervaded the air, as though a dire panther in the dark was holding its breath, waiting to spring upon us.


    Thus, I offered a smile.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ how poor.¡±


    ¡°Hmm~?¡±


    ¡°Something foul is afoot. I can smell it like an ill omen in the air.¡±


    ¡°Really? Are you sure that''s not the sheep?¡±


    ¡°... No, but regardless, our adversaries have overplayed their hand. And that¡¯s wonderful. To line the road with goblins and empty fields is a warning only those who cower from fruit slimes heed. There¡¯s such a thing as too much. Whatever awaits us, we must be ready to roundly disparage it at a moment''s notice.¡±


    ¡°Okie~¡±


    Coppelia offered a lazy smile.


    I nodded. The exact sort of lax response I wanted.


    Thus, I tugged on Apple''s reins. And with the sound of his fearless trots, the humming of my loyal handmaiden and the bleating of sheep as my accompaniment, I wore a dignified smile as Marinsgarde neared.


    Unlike many of the larger settlements of my kingdom, almost nothing of its walls could be easily seen. With the Wisenlait Gate so close and little threat from our northern neighbour, they''d been eclipsed by the ever expanding list of shops hoping to monopolise the high street into the town centre.


    A curiously ribbon-like town, as famous for its many patisseries as the only St. Liane workshop to exist outside the Royal Capital.


    Although it did not boast the economic importance of Trierport or the industrial strength of Stermondt, there was much to admire about its adherence to fashionability.


    That¡¯s why ... even before Apple''s trots had stepped beyond the entrance of the town, we were greeted by an abundance of stalls.


    Wooden signs rose high overhead as a fanfare of colour, each seeking to block each other out as much as the litany of rival storefronts. A welcoming committee of merchants competed for our attention. And while the colours of the awning were all different, the enterprising nature of those who worked beneath them were each the same.


    A sight like any other.


    Except for one thing.


    There wasn''t a single smile to be had.


    Which made sense.


    After all, the customers were not smiling, either. Nor were they particularly talkative.


    Rather ¡­ they seemed more than happy to simply point for what they desired.


    My jaw dropped at the sight. Yet as I read the wooden signs staked before the nearest stalls, it somehow dropped even further.


    Cutlasses, falchions and scimitars! We have every type of sword at the Stolen Armoury! Buy one sword, get one dagger free now!


    Rags & Bags! 50% opening sale! Get your finest scrap clothing and loot sacks, satchels and plunder bags of all sizes!


    The Cave Fig Smoothie Company is now open for business! All figs freshly harvested from the dampest caves!


    The Green Bazaar is open all day and night! Trade, buy back and purchase second hand loot at the best prices today!


    GOBLIN HATS. I''M SELLING GOBLIN HATS.


    Yes.


    They were all goblins.


    Buyers, traders and those who could alternate at the drop of a goblin hat.


    More numerous than the sheep grazing at the weeds, goblins filled the entrance of Marinsgarde, their noses wrinkling in tandem as they examined the wares on display or placed new ones down instead.


    Of the many fashionable caf¨¦s, bakeries and boutiques, nothing could be seen amidst a plethora of hastily built stalls and makeshift storefronts.


    Soon, a goblin walked up before me.


    He wrinkled his nose as my mouth failed to close, then pointed at the flock of sheep before holding up a pouch of coins. He shook it twice.


    Coppelia looked at me, waved her hand in front of my face, then slowly plucked the pouch from the goblin''s palm while nodding.


    A moment later¡ª


    I threw up my arms in utter grief.


    ¡°... Why is my town a goblin marketplace?!¡±

 Chapter 322: The Other A-rank

    Liliane snipped the ribbon.


    ¡°... I hereby declare The Rambling Mermaid now open!¡±


    Cheers filled the air as the door to Marinsgarde¡¯s latest prized asset was flung open.


    A bar.


    It hadn¡¯t poured its first Granholtz Sunrise and already it was worse than all its competitors. An honour it was unlikely to surpass.


    The street around it was so seedy even the rats avoided it¨Cas well as most of the townspeople. As much as Marinsgarde was famous for its sewing rooms nobody could afford to browse, it was still a town with all its pock marks and scars ¡­ even if few people ever saw this side of it.


    And that¡¯s why Liliane was here.


    Customers who were already drunk from the bar just next door streamed past to enjoy the opening day happy hour which would last all the way until the bar permanently closed. Of them, only a handful offered their earnest, if drowsy nods as they filed through.


    After all, dressed in a barmaid¡¯s uniform, there was little to distinguish Liliane Harten from the rest.


    All except for one small thing.


    A copper ring upon her finger. And perhaps also her twitching smile.


    She pursed her lips as the customers streamed past, all the while she held her breath with more skill than a pirate diving for treasure. She¡¯d endured every odour between the hells and the sun, and half of them were from the ones who¡¯d just passed her.


    It was hardly a surprise, then, when the owner now decided to hobble out.


    He wiped the sweat from his brow, then did the same for the sweat on his neck. All the effort it¡¯d taken to pour one round of drinks. And going by the redness of his ears, all of them went to him.


    ¡°... A most auspicious start!¡± he said, merrily waving in the rest of his customers. Even the ones who were just trying to quickly walk past. ¡°And all due to you, I wager. Thank you for agreeing to my request, Miss Harten. To have an A-rank adventurer opening my store is an honour.¡±


    Liliane¡¯s smile returned.


    Her twitching, shaking smile.


    ¡°The honour¡¯s mine,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s the duty of all adventurers to ensure they¡¯re involved in all facets of the community which supports them. To be invited to take part in the opening of a new business fills me with joy. Marinsgarde is my home, after all.¡±


    ¡°And how lucky we are to have you.¡± The barkeeper moved to clap her shoulders. Liliane moved slightly away. ¡°Our very own A-rank adventurer, too! ¡­ Hah, and they say Reitzlake is bigger. Well, not big enough to have you.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, I wouldn¡¯t quite say that ¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not bad over there, of course. But it¡¯s not here, either. And to think I almost ended up there.¡±


    ¡°... Your bar?¡±


    ¡°No, not my bar. Me. I actually considered being an adventurer in my youth too, you know.¡±


    Liliane considered the sweat crinkling the man¡¯s collar.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain you still can. With your Ogre Rum Sour, you could rise to the very top.¡±


    The barkeeper gave a hearty laugh.


    Liliane didn¡¯t join him. It was the truth. She¡¯d seen adventurers come and go, usually into the jaws of a sand wyrm, but whoever manned the bar only went upwards.


    More than once, she regretted her life choices.


    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t deny I let the dream float by every now and again,¡± said the barkeeper, leaning back to a crack of his spine. ¡°But I¡¯m too old for that now. Besides, this kingdom has enough A-ranks as it is. I reckon we¡¯re good with the three of you now, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Liliane paused, the smile fading for only a moment.


    ¡°... Yes, although our lives are separate, the paths we walk are the same.¡±


    ¡°Rightly said! Your peers abroad could learn about that, too. Given what I hear other adventurers get up to elsewhere, I¡¯m shocked your halls don¡¯t become fighting pits every night.¡±


    They did become fighting pits every night.


    It¡¯s how any of them slept. Marinsgarde was an exception. It¡¯s why she chose it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t speak on behalf of my peers. I¡¯ve little knowledge of what occurs outside the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Probably for the best. I should stop reading The Reitzlake Times. Violent world out there. Makes you thankful for what we have. Like my bar for instance. Beautiful, no?¡±


    ¡°Yes it is,¡± said Liliane, looking at a dead rat against the wall.


    The barkeeper nodded. Also at the same dead rat.


    ¡°... A shame Mr. Lainsfont retired, isn¡¯t it? I would¡¯ve liked him to visit once more. Just not for another calamity. I actually bought this bar partly because of him. Did you know he opened his own?¡±


    Liliane did know.


    She knew because each time Thomas Lainsfont was mentioned, they spoke about the sadness of his retirement and the curiosity which was his bar. All the time. Without fail.


    ¡°Really? I didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite popular, although I haven¡¯t had the chance to visit myself. Ah, but don¡¯t you start getting ideas. I¡¯ve good reason to consider mine already superior, given the good fortune of you opening it.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Liliane smiled. And then she held out a palm. ¡°Incidentally, the matter of my fee is¨C¡±


    ¡°Actually, speaking of the A-ranks ¡­ you wouldn¡¯t happen to know if the Snow Dancer is around, would you?¡±


    Crack.


    Liliane¡¯s knuckles made an odd sound as her fists clenched.


    ¡°The Snow Dancer? ¡­ Ah, Ophelia. I¡¯m afraid I wouldn¡¯t know where she is.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The barkeeper glanced down at the sound in confusion, before breaking into an oblivious smile.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see. That¡¯s a pity. I would¡¯ve liked to have her visit my bar.¡±


    Crack.


    ¡°... Uh, but not because I¡¯m a fan of the Snow Dancer or secretly hoped you knew she was nearby or anything. It¡¯s just that, well, my daughter has a plushie of her. You know, the ones they sell in the market.¡±


    ¡°I know of them, yes.¡±


    Liliane held up her palm and smiled.


    The barkeeper coughed as he sheepishly deposited a small pouch of coins.


    ¡°... Thank you again for helping to open my new bar today, Miss Harten.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    Liliane nodded.


    And then she was gone with a sweep of her auburn hair.


    Ignoring the wish to tug at her barmaid¡¯s uniform, she began heading back to the guild hall where her accommodation waited. But not immediately.


    Instead, she adopted her smile once again as she deliberately opted for the busiest route back.


    Barely two corners away from where the dead rat lay, her footsteps took her past colourful storefronts, each window boasting wares as strange as they were unpronounceable.


    Liliane¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t upon them, but rather on the visitors jostling to decide what they couldn¡¯t buy.


    As usual, few stopped to glance at her, other than to raise a brow at the barmaid uniform she wore. And for a moment, the smile vanished from Liliane¡¯s face as a now familiar disappointment ran through her.


    She was the resident A-rank adventurer. A feat achieved by so few that it was enough to have a statue built of them in their home village, bankrupting every resident in the process.


    She knew. It¡¯s what happened to hers, after all.


    But Marinsgarde was different. As was its constant influx of visitors. Lissoine boasted more than A-ranks. They had a fleet which was the envy of the world and their own brand of elite knights. Chevaliers who apparently grew petals from their hair.


    Even if they bothered learning who she was, she still would have lost out against the first window.


    And yet that lethargy was also shared by the residents. Any novelty at her presence had been lost approximately the night after her arrival. And the reason was simple.


    Liliane Harten ¡­ was the other A-rank.


    That was only natural. Anyone compared to Thomas Lainsfont would be. The man had practically swashbuckled his way to the top, leading his Golden Hogs down this very promenade with a very stabbed basilisk tied behind them.


    He¡¯d been granted an audience with royalty for that. And then he¡¯d retired before they could promote him just so he wouldn¡¯t accidentally bankrupt every village to have hosted him.


    That sealed his legacy more than any rotting carcasses ever could.


    He was the poster boy of adventuring before she¡¯d even frightened away her first fruit slime. And so despite sharing the same rank, Liliane knew she could hardly compare.


    She had precious few stories of personal heroism, after all.


    She had even fewer of charity.


    Not because she was a worse adventurer ¡­ but because she was a perfectly normal one.


    There were only two types of adventurers. Those who joined the guild for fame and fortune and those who lied about not joining for fame and fortune. Beyond the smiling receptionists and the cats publicly hoisted away from their favourite trees, it was an organisation like any other.


    The guild code was a towel to wipe away the blemishes.


    In adventuring, just as in life, there was politics, there was deceit, and there was blood.


    Just not Liliane¡¯s.


    She¡¯d progressed through the time honoured tradition of connections, hopping from one acclaimed adventuring team to the next.


    She was there, somewhere in the back, when Sir Rethan the Vaunted slew a demonic blood fiend by grasping its heart into a thousand messy pieces. She was there when Hinora the Blue Mage used a sword of ice to melt the flames of a phoenix. And she was there when two clans of ordinary barbarians had a drinking contest in a Granholtz tavern.


    That one was the worst.


    But for her good sense to not overstay her welcome, she¡¯d returned a bona fide A-rank adventurer.


    That was, as far as she knew, the traditional way to climb the Oldest Ladder.


    Luck. Opportunism. Connections. The ability to shout very loudly. And every now and again, the occasional spell tossed into some nameless thing¡¯s maw.


    ¡­ And then there was Ophelia.


    Liliane made her way down the main street, her brisk steps fuelled by a cocktail of disbelief and personal dissatisfaction at the hopeless unfairness which was a beautiful elven sword saint.


    The Snow Dancer was a swirling tornado of carnage. But she was also prettier than her. She was more accomplished than her. And she ¡­ well, she probably wasn¡¯t younger than her.


    Liliane had no idea how old she was, but for all she knew, she likely had 27 grandchildren by now.


    Elven skin was absurd. And if she had one memory she wished to erase, it was the day she was invited to give a speech while sitting beside that woman and her ducks. There were 200 dignitaries in Duke Valence¡¯s court, and all of them were watching Ophelia scribbling her name into the table while waiting for the free buffet to begin.


    But in the end, Liliane only had herself to blame.


    She¡¯d grown comfortable.


    No, worse ¡­ she¡¯d become apathetic. The reflection of the barmaid uniform was proof of that.


    Without realising it, she¡¯d been forgotten in her own town. And as her final punishment, now it was more than the Snow Dancer who wished to overshadow her.


    As she walked towards the guild hall, she listened to snatches of conversation.


    To whispers and gossip traded as idly as coins, their bearers never once realising that words were worth so much more. Again, there was nothing regarding the rising star she¡¯d heard about. An adventurer who¡¯d seemingly dropped from a stork and climbed the lower ranks in a heartbeat.


    Not even Guildmaster Triniard could explain who she was. Nobody could.


    All either of them knew was that she was one of Timon Quinsley¡¯s flock. And that made the sudden rise all the stranger. Everyone knew that man was not above his tricks. But he was also pragmatic and honourable ¡­ at least in his own way.


    To simply hurl his own adventurers up the Oldest Ladder was not how he worked.


    There were always rising stars, of course. Liliane had seen them fall as swiftly as they rose, crushed by the fabled wall of limits that all adventurers eventually came to meet. But now the whispers were more erratic. More confused.


    Liliane sucked in a deep breath as she walked.


    She had to act, or else it¡¯d be more than her plushies which were swept from the windows.


    Luckily, there was a simple solution¨Cand that was to continue where she¡¯d left off.


    She needed to climb the Oldest Ladder, just one more time.


    Liliane Harten needed to rise to S-rank ¡­ somehow.


    It was something which would take more than connections to achieve. She needed to do something that Timon Quinsley ¡­ that headquarters themselves could not ignore.


    The very things that Thomas Lainsfont used to do.


    Liliane groaned at the thought. She didn¡¯t want to drag a basilisk through the streets. It looked impressive when a famed adventuring team did it, especially while Bodkins Tangleleaf was giving out free samples of its roasted tail. But if she tried it, half the town would need to offer help.


    But she couldn¡¯t let things stay as they were.


    For one thing, even with free accommodation, free meals and free ¡­ well, most things, Liliane wasn¡¯t exactly overflowing with crowns. Marinsgarde was a well where coins vanished¨Coften ending up as a shiny coat button.


    She glanced at three children fighting over a limited edition Ophelia plushie. Two were in tears and another had swollen cheeks.


    And then her hands clenched once more as a fire long dormant welled up inside her.


    Liliane couldn¡¯t remain idle any longer. Not if she wanted children to brutally fight over her as well. And as she arrived at the door of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, she felt as though fate itself was dangling the next road just front of her.


    ¡°... Goblins,¡± said a farmer still in his overalls to the exasperated adventurer trying to eat his lunch outside. ¡°They don¡¯t allow themselves to be seen. Not unless they¡¯re up to something that¡¯ll see all my flock turned to mutton overnight. You hear me? You need to do something about this.¡±


    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m very sorry, but this is something for the guards.¡±


    ¡°The guards won¡¯t even listen. They¡¯re more afraid than you are. And not for a single right reason. I¡¯m telling you, they¡¯re up to something. I see it in the day. I hear it in the night. They¡¯re digging. Searching. And I promise you now sure as the sun that not a single one of you will end up liking what they¡¯ll find.¡±


    ¡°Look, I understand your concerns. And I¡¯ll relay them ¡­ once I¡¯ve finished my sandwich. But this is out of our hands. Goblins are for the lord and lady to handle. Not adventurers. These days, there are all sorts of agreements and ¡­ eh?¡±


    Liliane offered a kindly smile as she appeared beside them.


    Then, she leaned towards the farmer.


    ¡°Tell me more.¡±

 Chapter 323: Going Forwards, Backwards

    ¡°[Blade Guardian].¡±


    The uneven walls of an abandoned mining shaft briefly flashed to life as an ethereal greatsword floated beside Liliane. Her only companion, along with her [Lantern Wisp] lighting up the distance.


    They were all that she needed. For now.


    The ground was her only concern. Littered with a carpet of shards hewn with either nails or teeth, they were the greatest threat to her life should she stumble in this abandoned silver mine¨Cor at least more than the giant rats, the flame beetles or the fruit slimes fleeing from the shepherds in the forest outside.


    With its entrance a stone¡¯s throw from the nearest flock of lamb, Liliane couldn¡¯t believe that the farmer outside the guild hall had been understating the goblin presence.


    This was as bold as she ever knew goblins to be.


    Unlike some of her peers, Liliane had never run afoul of goblins. They were not necessarily courteous, but they kept to their own affairs, often at a considerable distance.


    However, if the lord and lady of Marinsgarde realised they¡¯d inhabited a mine so close to the town, they¡¯d be well within their rights to order their eviction.


    With a show of steel, if need be.


    Liliane was more than happy to prevent that from happening.


    She might not be a regular at the sewing houses, but she¡¯d chosen Marinsgarde as her home for a reason. The streets were sometimes tidy, the sewers were semi-functional and the croissants she received from the nice lady next door were always warm. And free. That made it better than every other town.


    Having it the site of history¡¯s most recent bloody dispute wasn¡¯t what she needed.


    Nor, it seemed, somebody else.


    Her eyes looked over the carcasses as her boots sought to avoid them.


    The fruit slimes had been left alone, but the rest of the forest refugees had been efficiently disposed of. Most had the clear markings of goblins, which is to say they¡¯d been bludgeoned, examined for edibility and then bludgeoned again.


    Some of them, however, were the result of being cleanly severed.


    She¡¯d seen such bladework often. It was no serrated knife or hooked scimitar which caused the flame beetles to be divided in two while leaving their potentially exploding sacs undisturbed.


    It was a swordsman. One with impressive technique.


    Liliane was not alone in investigating the goblin presence. Given the location was far from the road, a forest ranger was the most likely culprit, although it was possible a frustrated guard captain had decided to take matters into their own hands.


    Following her [Lantern Wisp] in the distance, Liliane increased the briskness of her pace.


    Before long, she already found herself huffing as she ambled along. The memories, even nostalgia, of traversing old mines dribbled across the forefront of her mind. But while the unevenness of her steps was familiar, the fatigue was not.


    Liliane quietly chastised herself.


    It¡¯d been a while since she¡¯d trekked away from the road. It¡¯d been longer since she did it alone.


    But here so close to Maringarde, she expected few threats¨Cparticularly since goblins were involved.


    The farmers rightfully despaired at their pots and pans disappearing in the middle of the night, but when it came to the heart of it, goblins enjoyed not warring with humans. And as an A-rank adventurer, Liliane boasted more protection than a diplomat.


    All the more since a magical greatsword was floating beside her.


    She paused as she joined her [Lantern Wisp].


    The mining shaft continued, but a new doorway had been hewn to the side. Or perhaps smashed. She could almost perfectly draw the silhouette of a hobgoblin headbutting their way through. And if there was something valuable to be had on the other side, she¡¯d favour a hobgoblin¡¯s forehead over a mountain on the majority of occasions.


    Disregarding the rest of the mine, she stepped through the gap.


    The air changed at once.


    It was less open. More hostile.


    Gone were the wooden supports and the emptied lanterns on the walls. But Liliane didn¡¯t slow her steps. Whatever else once resided here, the worst had been cleared long before any curious wanderers could do away with the lesser ones.


    It was a commission the guild¡¯s rookies should have taken. While it was easier to stab things and be done with it, to hand in scraps of wolf pelts and unidentifiable teeth was a slow way to climb any ladder.


    Reclaiming lost wealth, on the other hand, was the fastest of them all.


    Liliane already had her suspicions.


    She¡¯d seen this before, once in Rozinthe and twice in the Dunes. An unexcavated gold vein and chambers still filled with treasure. Goblins didn¡¯t operate so close to major settlements without reason. Their noses rarely obliged.


    The farmer had it right.


    They weren¡¯t here to stay, but to find something. And given the mine¡¯s proximity to Marinsgarde, it was very likely something the town would want as well.


    ¡­ Antagonising goblins, then.


    They¡¯d complain, stamp their feet and bristle like porcupines. But they knew as well as the farmers did that these mines weren¡¯t theirs. And no matter what they hoped to find, it was not worth the cost of denying a guild representative.


    BrrrMmmmMmmMmmmMm.


    Thus, as a rumble swept past her ankles, she wondered if it was worth the cost of finding it at all.


    Liliane stopped as she listened to the sounds.


    It was more than the shaking of the ground which echoed down the newly rounded tunnels. There was a commotion. One as familiar to any adventurer¡¯s ears as a hearthfire crackling in a guild hall.


    A battle.


    Swords bashing against armour. Shields splintering in two. Arrows whistling in the air.


    The goblins had done more than hewn a new path through the mines.


    Liliane frowned.


    The noise echoed, painting a blurry picture of chaos in the distance. They were either celebrating a birthday or fighting something they¡¯d managed to disturb. Given that it¡¯d be something which had slept through a century of pickaxes stripping the hillside bare, she very much hoped it was ribbons and picnic tables she found ahead.


    A small voice of caution appeared in the back of Liliane¡¯s mind.


    She continued regardless.


    It was often said that the best adventurers possessed a sense for danger. But then they wouldn¡¯t be adventurers, they¡¯d be accountants. It was, after all, a profession stained with over a thousand years of blood, most of it lost in the bowels of horrors which had no names.


    No ¡­ it wasn¡¯t danger the very best had a sense for.


    It was for being in the right place at the right time.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°[Ethereal Owl].¡±


    Her curiosity piqued, she conjured a second guide as the tunnels split ahead. An owl formed of transparent jade appeared by her side, revealing the beautiful gemstones painting the walls.


    ¡­ Beautiful gemstones which shouldn¡¯t exist without having long been plucked.


    Liliane moved as the glittering on the walls did.


    Stepping back, all she saw of the jewel spider bursting forth was the first of its chitinous legs. Each was the length of a dagger and considerably sharper.


    The next moment, she witnessed the sight of a glimmering carapace divided in half.


    Her [Blade Guardian] swept as elegantly as a feather quill. As the jewel spider dropped to the ground, both halves shattered into a tiny scattering of the gemstones which covered it.


    Liliane didn¡¯t celebrate.


    ¡°[Arcane Fist].¡±


    Four jewel spiders burst forth from all directions.


    One was met by a swipe of her greatsword, pulverising a second as both were swept back into the wall. The third was snipped in half as the talons of her conjured owl separated it at the neck. As the fourth lunged for Liliane¡¯s back, it was grasped by the abdomen, its bladed legs swiping furiously as the magical fist squeezed ¡­ until eventually, nothing but a dusting of gemstones tinkled onto the ground.


    Still, Liliane didn¡¯t pause.


    She directed her [Blade Guardian] with a fingertip, carving through the walls around her. The jewel spiders remaining in ambush for her to scoop up her rewards became nothing but glitter themselves.


    Her owl circled around her, lighting up the remainder of the tunnel.


    No more faux gemstones waited. And for a moment, Liliane¡¯s thoughts turned to surprise at seeing jewel spiders allowed to inhabit the entrance of the goblin tunnels. To a compendium of monsters, they were D-rank adversaries. But to those who had fought them, they were significantly more dangerous.


    After all¨C


    Their ambushes never ceased.


    As the light from her conjured owl darkened, she looked up to see the gap in the ceiling.


    It was a sight to send children bawling. An entire balled cluster of jewel spiders tightly interwoven as they silently spun down towards her, dozens of eyes peering in all directions like a concentrated abomination of arachnophobia.


    All their eyes met hers.


    The cluster suddenly fell. Her conjured creations swept up as her hands lit up with her next spell.


    ¡°Blazing Adjudicator Form, 3rd Stance ... [Abyssal Divide]!¡±


    Liliane never had the chance to cast it.


    A figure swept past in a mirage of movement, sword trailing overhead to cleave the cluster as though it were a single entity. It might as well have been. As Liliane swiftly moved to the side, she saw each and every jewel spider individually sliced into two.


    It was all the admiration she offered.


    Sweeping around at once, she directed her array of conjured weaponry at the swordsman.


    He already had his hands up, the sword he¡¯d used to impressive effect already sheathed.


    The easy smile he wore suggested this was a familiar scene.


    ¡°Woah there,¡± he said, his tone as easy as a patron behind a bar counter. ¡°Coin pouch by my left hip. Take everything I have. It¡¯s not much I¡¯m afraid. But it¡¯s all yours.¡±


    Liliane didn¡¯t relax. Lone swordsmen in the wild did that to her.


    Especially when it was clear he was neither a ranger nor a guard.


    A young man whose unshaven face was the tidiest part of him. Both his cloak and his leather armour were so well-travelled that whatever colour they once were was lost. Only the hilt of his sword showed any signs of care. Liliane didn¡¯t concern herself with the sewing houses of Marinsgarde, but she knew immediately this man was already barred from stepping foot into each one.


    She frowned.


    ¡°This is an abandoned mine. Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Just someone wondering why I wasn¡¯t born a mage. A fist, a sword and an owl? I reckon I could do half my chores with them three.¡±


    The fist, sword and owl hovered closer to the man.


    He gave a small cough.


    ¡°Ahem ¡­ Caban Oxwell¡¯s the name. Wandering miscreant and adventurer both. Pleased to meet you.¡±


    Liliane¡¯s eyes snapped towards his finger.


    She groaned at once, dispersing the greatsword when she detected the magic resonating with its wearer.


    ¡­ She kept both the owl and the fist.


    Of course. Nothing was more typical than an adventurer going into a pit. Just like her.


    Liliane had no room for complaint. There wasn¡¯t a single sign saying this was goblin territory. And even if there were, it wouldn¡¯t stop them.


    ¡°¡­ Liliane Harten,¡± she replied, before letting out a sigh.


    The young man ¡­ Caban Oxwell, gave an appreciative nod as he slowly allowed his hands to fall.


    His eyes took far too long to glance down in turn.


    ¡°Liliane Harten? ¡­ Wait, would you be the A-rank adventurer?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes.¡±


    The man blinked.


    And then¨Che simply gave a relaxed laugh before feigning a look of defeat.


    ¡°Damn, there goes me looking impressive, huh? And I thought that was my best chance. Well, as for myself, I¡¯m just a humble C-rank.¡±


    Liliane was more shocked than by any amount of jewel spiders.


    There wasn¡¯t a hint of the usual speechlessness from this man ¡­ and he was a C-rank?


    More than ever, Liliane felt the gulf widening between her and the Snow Dancer. She had no doubt that this man would be on his hands and knees if he saw her.


    ¡°... Uh, you okay there?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, yes,¡± said Liliane, not fine at all. ¡°... What are you doing here, Mr. Oxwell?¡±


    ¡°Just Caban will do. And I¡¯m here for a calico. Seen one around?¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°A calico. The name¡¯s Pepper. Told he¡¯s a bit tubby. Orange, black and white. Girl from the nearby village lost him.¡±


    Suddenly, Liliane had to stop herself from snorting.


    A C-rank adventurer. And he was wandering into abandoned mines looking for a cat. Perhaps he was the rising star they were all talking about.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Ah, shame. I tracked the prints somewhere nearby. Figured he might¡¯ve slinked here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unlikely. Cats are good at avoiding things which can eat them.¡±


    ¡°Like jewel spiders where they shouldn¡¯t be?¡±


    ¡°Yes ¡­ I think the goblins might be in a hurry.¡±


    Caban nodded while feigning a look of surprise¨Cas though he didn¡¯t know what the distinctly goblin-like sounds nearby were.


    ¡°... Goblins. So that¡¯s what it is. You¡¯re right. They usually do a better job at keeping their tunnels tidy. Know a few myself. Not good talkers. But good drinkers. Guessing that¡¯s why you¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m investigating a report by a local farmer. He''s concerned for his flock.¡±


    ¡°Still helping the little guys, huh? Now that¡¯s an A-rank adventurer I can look up to. In that case, it looks like we¡¯re heading the same direction.¡±


    The man raised his palms before Liliane could reject him.


    ¡°Hey, no need to look out for me. I¡¯m good at running. But I¡¯d rather not do it until I¡¯ve a reason to. It sounds like the goblins are fighting something fierce. If Pepper¡¯s over there, he might be in trouble.¡±


    Liliane very nearly sighed.


    This man. He was that type of adventurer.


    For a moment, she considered outright declining.


    Whatever was occurring, it involved goblins neglecting their own tunnels. They weren''t just bold. They were reckless. She needed to investigate this, and in her experience, an overly enthusiastic adventurer was a liability. Especially if they sought to impress their peers.


    Even so, if she looked far ¡­ far past the state of his armour, his swordsmanship was unusually keen. And being a C-rank meant he was still above what the majority of the guild boasted.


    ¡­ But most of all, she already knew that ¡®no¡¯ meant something different to this brand of adventurer.


    ¡°My conjurations will guide the way,¡± said Liliane, gesturing at him to follow. ¡°But we¡¯ll need to walk carefully. The tunnels will be varied. Some might be trapped. Others certainly have monsters.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I can tell which way we need to go.¡±


    ¡°Oh? How so, exactly?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain. But my master taught me how. Basically, I¡¯ve a pretty good sense for directions. Well, other than when I need to use the restroom.¡±


    Liliane hesitated.


    That ¡­ was not a technique she had ever heard about.


    ¡°And who is your master, exactly ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Thomas Lainsfont.¡±


    Then, she promptly stumbled.


    Catching herself before she struck the glittering remains of the jewel spiders, she turned to look at the C-rank adventurer with shock. As he gave an awkward smile back, she now realised she could practically see the image of Thomas Lainsfont just from the way he stood.


    That was the effect the leader of the Golden Hogs had.


    ¡°... I see.¡± Liliane nodded, understanding now how a C-rank could come to learn such a high level sword technique. ¡°I didn¡¯t know he took apprentices.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t. Officially I was just a nuisance.¡± Caban gave a short laugh, his eyes briefly alight with memory before deliberately turning towards the tunnels. ¡°By the way, did you know¨C¡±


    ¡°I know he has a bar, yes.¡±


    ¡°Hm? No, not that.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Sorry. What were you saying?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was going to ask if you knew that the goblins are coming towards us. Did you still want to head on over?¡±


    Liliane blinked.


    She then sent both her [Lantern Wisp] and her [Ethereal Owl] ahead, her eyes narrowing as both sets of tunnels lit up.


    Not long after, she found out which one had been the correct answer.


    Both of them.


    They were equally filled with goblins.


    More than she¡¯d ever seen packed together in her life.


    Without so much as a glance in their direction, they joined together from both tunnels like two streams forming a river. Goblins, hobgoblins and even trained wolves rushed past the two adventurers as a haze of scrappy armour, fluffy fur and wrinkled noses, before squeezing into the tunnel behind them.


    A moment later, the light from both a [Lantern Wisp] and [Ethereal Owl] simultaneously extinguished.


    And then¨C


    The fleeing goblins were promptly joined by a pair of adventurers.

 Chapter 324: A Simple Decision

    ¡°Haaaah ¡­ haaah ¡­ haaah ¡­¡±


    Liliane was regretting her lack of exercise.


    Being A-rank had many perks. And all of them were to do with not needing to pull herself from her bedroll in the middle of a swamp or a forest.


    However, even if she¡¯d continued to trudge through fen and thicket while wondering if she shouldn¡¯t just take up her guaranteed spot in the family business, no amount of training would have accelerated her past the rushing goblins.


    Whether it was on the back of a wolf or upon their own two feet, the goblins defied their relatively small frames to rush ahead at a pace outstripping a gazelle in the hinterlands.


    And for a few moments, the same applied to Liliane.


    She might be the slowest non-goblin in this herd, but that didn¡¯t mean she wasn¡¯t racing at a pace which defied what her lungs were capable of. Because each time her muscles considered complaining, all she needed to do was spare a glance behind her.


    Just like now.


    ¡°Ughhhh ¡­¡±


    She let out a groan as an endless wall of crimson eyes looked back. And all from just one pursuer.


    A shadow tumbling in the darkened tunnels, revealing itself every so often courtesy of the large rubies covering its carapace, sparking like flint as they collided against the enveloping shaft.


    A very large, very armoured and fully mature matriarch jewel spider.


    Whatever the goblins wanted, so too had this creature.


    Despite its size being too large for the tunnel, none of its spear-like legs fought against each other. They instead climbed and crossed seamlessly like a pit of snakes dancing their way forward.


    A dance Liliane hoped not to join.


    There was a reason she wasn¡¯t famed for her footwork. And it was the exact same reason she wasn¡¯t famed for her running, either.


    ¡°Haaah ¡­ ahhh ¡­ hhaahh ¡­¡±


    Beside her, the adventurer she¡¯d just met shared little of her fatigue. Although sweat ran past his brows, it was for a different reason.


    He clearly didn¡¯t like spiders.


    Giant, carnivorous, armoured spiders.


    Caban¡¯s brows furrowed as he glanced behind him. Then, as though catching Liliane¡¯s despair, he purposefully broke into an easy smile.


    ¡°So, I¡¯ve a question.¡±


    ¡°Haah ¡­ ehh? Question?¡±


    ¡°Well, like every C-rank, I¡¯m sort of waiting for my turn with the B-rank trials. And since we¡¯re not always told when they start, it could be anything. That¡¯s stress right there. Got any tips for passing?¡±


    Liliane had no tips to give.


    For one thing, it was too hard to talk. For another, she¡¯d passed her own B-rank trial by default after her grader almost killed her through a trap he¡¯d triggered.


    ¡°Stay close to your grader,¡± she said in a single breath.


    ¡°Will do.¡± The man nodded, then looked hopefully at her. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose this is my¨C¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Figures.¡±


    A pair of shoulders slumped slightly.


    They tensed again as the sounds became closer. The glimmer of false rubies suddenly shined, mirroring the unnatural light emanating from the many eyes upon them.


    Too close. Liliane sucked in a breath and raised her palms as she ran.


    ¡°[Blade Guardian]!¡±


    The light briefly lit up the marching horror.


    Were it burrowed, it would have been mistaken for early retirement, such was the amount of glimmering rubies caking its carapace. The matriarch would oblige, of course. Except retirement came in the form of its dribbling mandibles, its bladed legs and its ability to induce heart attacks.


    A moment later, it paused as an ethereal greatsword was launched towards it.


    Clink.


    A familiar noise resounded. But not because the weapon had struck its natural armour.


    Instead, it was the sound of sharpened legs catching it as deftly as a hand caught a falling snowflake.


    Clink. Clink. Clink.


    Liliane was horrified. But not as much as when it began to devour the weapon.


    Absorbing the magic as readily as a vampire drank blood, the weapon crumbled within its sticky mandibles. To a jewel spider, nothing was exempt. But it still had its preferences.


    Given how it immediately barreled towards the two fleeing adventurers with renewed vigour, its favourite entr¨¦e was regretful humans.


    Neither chose to humour it.


    Their speed quickened as they burst through the makeshift goblin entry and into the main shaft of the mine. Liliane practically slid into the opposing wall, scrambling in any direction as she raised her palms once more. She briefly caught sight of the glimmering monstrosity in the midst of a leap, clearly hoping to ram itself through the hole.


    ¡°[Earthen Bulwark]!¡±


    Poomph.


    If it did, it met only a wall of conjured stone instead.


    Poomph. Poomph. Poomph.


    The sound of crumbling rock filled the mining shaft where two adventurers waited with bated breath. But of the conjured wall, not a fracture could be seen. Again and again, a creature whose weight was itself a weapon tested itself against Liliane¡¯s magic. And after a pause, it conceded.


    The sound of muted, scuttling legs was briefly heard fading into the distance.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Haaaaaaaaaaaah ¡­¡±


    A sigh of relief.


    For a moment, Liliane did nothing but suck in the gasps of air.


    A stitch she was unfamiliar with poked her in her kidney¨Ceach pang a reminder that before she began seeking out her adventuring contacts once again, she first needed to enjoy a few unpleasant jogs through Marinsgarde¡¯s promenade. Compared to fleeing from matriarch spiders, the crowds of tourists were another level altogether.


    She looked up as Caban whistled. He himself looked none the worse for wear.


    ¡°Oh man, stuff like that reminds me that I¡¯m actually a bit squeamish around spiders. I think I¡¯ll mail a letter to my old man asking him for help if I find that in my kitchen.¡±


    Liliane pretended she was only brushing her knees.


    ¡°That was a matriarch jewel spider,¡± she said, raising herself. ¡°Something which rivals a dragon in its lust for trinkets and gold.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why the goblins are interested. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s got something special if they¡¯re willing to offer themselves as dinner. Say what you want, but goblins are pretty good at not doing that.¡±


    Liliane nodded.


    It was extremely unusual for goblins to assault something they were not wholly certain they could defeat. Even more so if it could be avoided altogether. Goblins were not master tunnellers without reason.


    ¡°The guild needs to be informed. Marinsgarde as well. Goblins aside, a matriarch jewel spider may be indicative of a larger infestation.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. I wouldn¡¯t want to be Pepper right now. That one had to be at least B-rank, right?¡±


    ¡°I believe so, yes. Most matriarchs are.¡±


    Caban paused, clearly thinking over his next words.


    ¡°Not to be forward, ma¡¯am, but as mean as these ladies are, don¡¯t you have a way to, uh  ¡­ sizzle them up? I mean, I figured you¡¯d handled them before, being A-rank and all.¡±


    Liliane pursed her lips.


    Suddenly, she was too fatigued to speak again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve fought matriarch spiders before, yes ¡­ but always as part of organised adventuring teams. We came here for information, not a subjugation. Rank is not the defining arbitrator of deadly encounters. Common sense is. It¡¯s needless to risk a fight against any lethal adversary while confined in a narrow space. Without either numbers or overwhelming strength, the danger in confrontation was too great.¡±


    Caban nodded at once.


    He said nothing, nor did his expression betray any judgement. It was, after all, perfectly sound advice. And the very reason Liliane had climbed the Oldest Ladder where others did not.


    However¨Cshe read the man¡¯s thoughts in his stance.


    In the hand still around his hilt. The hips turned towards the [Earthen Bulwark]. The heel waiting, wishing to spring.


    Thomas Lainsfont wouldn¡¯t have run.


    He¡¯d have sliced away each of its legs as easily as he would a flurry of blades, then moved onto the business of counting treasure.


    And Ophelia, well ¡­ she would have waved at it. And that¡¯d be enough.


    Giant arachnids were intelligent, after all.


    ¡°... I am not combat focused,¡± she explained without being asked. ¡°My conjurations are versatile, but fragile. They support the front line and defend the rear, striking, defending or distracting targets while often being ignored in turn.¡±


    Caban smiled genially, understanding in his eyes. It only made her wince in embarrassment.


    ¡°That so? Sounds great to have you on an expedition. I wouldn¡¯t mind being that useful every now and again. I can only rescue cats. Not much good in the big leagues.¡±


    Liliane didn¡¯t feel the need to dignify that with a rebuttal.


    It was clear this adventurer had already achieved more than scooping up a handful of tabby cats from trees. C-rank was the highest many ever achieved. But given his mentor, she doubted if he¡¯d overly stumble come the B-rank trials.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Mostly, however¨C


    Bwoooooooooomph!!


    Her silence was due to the wall crumbling beside her [Earthen Bulwark].


    Rocks and whatever ore had yet to be scavenged burst outwards as the glimmering matriarch sidestepped her barrier altogether. Innumerable rubies fought for attention against the crimson eyes of the monster as its great form rammed through one wall and into the next.


    The mining shaft groaned, dust and rubble falling down as the wooden supports wavered.


    And then the matriarch turned.


    Mandibles spilling with the oozing remains of its last meal dribbled to the ground. Half its legs bent in preparation for a lunge. The rest were reserved for the important business of tenderising dinner.


    ¡°... Ooph, I think she has her eyes on me,¡± said Caban, his smile clashing with the obvious unease causing his brows to twitch. ¡°The feelings are appreciated, but I¡¯m afraid the wandering lifestyle means I haven¡¯t any plans for settling down.¡±


    Liliane groaned.


    He was even taunting monsters. He really was one of those types.


    ¡°The only place it wants you to settle is in its stomach,¡± she said, raising her palms. ¡°Stand back.¡±


    ¡°More running?¡±


    Yes ¡­ was Liliane¡¯s thoughts.


    Instead, she bit her lips as the images of her peers ran through her mind. Of the unspoken thoughts of a C-rank adventurer. She was no dazzling swordswoman, true ¡­ but for a few moments, she could pretend to be. Especially when the mining shaft was no goblin tunnel.


    Here, she had enough space.


    At least more than she had legs to run.


    ¡°The entrance is too far ¡­ I¡¯ll defeat the matriarch instead. [Blade Guardian].¡±


    Once more, a flash of light lit up the surroundings as an ethereal greatsword answered the call.


    It was more damage than the weapon could cause.


    As it flew forwards, the matriarch was already prepared. With the speed of an insect a fraction of its size, its legs shot forwards to devour the second appetiser. Instead, it snatched the air as the weapon turned upwards instead.


    And then it raised itself, briefly revealing its smooth underside.


    Liliane sucked in a short breath.


    It was all she needed.


    ¡°[Blade Tempest]!¡±


    She was no purveyor of destruction, but it was testament to her skill that she could continue to dangle a greatsword like a candle to a moth even as a wreath of illuminating swords appeared behind her.


    The next moment, her hair swept forwards to the passing of 17 conjured blades. A new record.


    They launched themselves into the only part of the matriarch not to be covered in a carapace of rubies. An explosion of dust filled the chasm as the creature¡¯s monstrous frame was buried under the weight of the attack, driving it into the very ground.


    One after another, the blades were lost amidst the swirling dust.


    Only once all had been spent did Liliane give a twirl of her finger. She directed her [Blade Guardian] downwards, plunging in as an executing strike on whatever remained.


    An audible crunch later, all the light from her swords faded. As did the gleam from a B-rank monster. She¡¯d faced worse, of course. Far worse. But rarely without a wall of shields before her ¡­ and just as crucially, not to the sight of them getting up again after enduring one of her strongest spells.


    Even before the dust had settled, the matriarch began to dig itself from its newly made crater.


    Its legs were whole, protected by its carapace. The armour was dented and scarred, with much of its layer of gemstones stripped away  ¡­ but aside from the few blotches of the flesh now revealed, the creature was wounded but whole.


    Liliane was stunned.


    She¡¯d struck it cleanly with a small arsenal of weapons. More than enough to bring even a matriarch down to the last of its eight legs. Instead, it was already thrashing with fury as it clawed its way up.


    And then she understood why.


    Markings lit up the abdomen. A golden crest more telling than its layer of rubies. A sign of royalty.


    Liliane was wrong.


    This wasn¡¯t a matriarch in the slightest.


    ¡°... A queen,¡± she said with a gasp.


    It was the worst case scenario.


    This wasn¡¯t just an infestation. It was a nest. And so close to Marinsgarde?


    It had to be destroyed.


    Fortunately, it was small for a queen. Young and undefended. A new colony. But that was only for now. Soon, this entire region would be swarming with the creatures, and it would be more than flocks of lamb at risk.


    Without hesitation, Liliane¡¯s palms lit with magic ¡­ at least until a certain adventurer stepped forwards.


    ¡°Hold up,¡± said Caban with an appreciative nod. ¡°As much as it¡¯s a pleasure to watch A-ranks show me how it¡¯s done, I can¡¯t just let you do all the work.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Liliane was appalled. ¡°Mr. Oxwell, this is not the time to be fishing for extra credits!¡±


    ¡°No need to worry, then.¡± The man patted the weapon sheathed by his side. ¡°It¡¯s not a guild stamp I¡¯m after. Just a chance to give a local blacksmith some work today.¡±


    ¡°This is a queen. Its armour just survived my [Blade Tempest]. It will survive your sword.¡±


    The man simply shrugged.


    ¡°Definitely a scary lady ¡­ but I¡¯ve seen scarier. So much so, that I¡¯ve been practising for the opportunity to make amends. I¡¯ve a special skill I¡¯ve been meaning to show off. And I think this is as good a training partner as I¡¯ve seen yet.¡±


    Caban Oxwell grasped the hilt of his sword.


    All at once, a circle of flames erupted from around his feet, matching, no, overpowering the many crimson eyes which now stared at him and him alone. The very embodiment of a swordsman''s will.


    The aura surrounding this young man changed like thunder on a clear day.


    Gone was the sweat which caked his brows. If there was fear, it was now as lost as his smile. Pushing his heel back, he lowered his centre of gravity, and all thought of rescuing cats was now second in his mind.


    The queen jewel spider paused. The legs which had been scrambling dug into the dirt. No longer a hunter lusting for easy prey, it hunkered as though wary, waiting, sheltering for what was to come.


    And for good reason.


    For a single moment, Liliane saw the shadow of something terrifying upon him, looming like an unsurpassable barrier. A smothering cloud which offered no hint of daylight. A stifling weight which judged his every action.


    Liliane knew at once that this man had seen the face of adversity. And a spider queen did not compare.


    ¡°... So, I know this probably isn¡¯t the B-rank trial,¡± said Caban, the sudden hardness of his smile only beaten by his eyes. ¡°But just in case you do happen to be grading me, know this is the best I¡¯ve got. A technique based on the most powerful sword ability I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±


    Liliane¡¯s lips were in the motion of demanding that he cease.


    But no words came out.


    This was no simple C-rank adventurer. This was the apprentice of the most celebrated adventurer the kingdom had seen in hundreds of years.


    Even if he was only an imitation, Liliane could not allow herself to disregard the pride on display. One which she so rarely felt in herself.


    And so ¡­ she stepped back.


    Lowering her palms, she instead gazed upon what the prodigy of Thomas Lainsfont wished to reveal.


    She saw it in the way he stood. In the certainty of the way he grasped his sword. This strike would prove true. A technique handed down through the brutal teachings of a legendary swordsman. Liliane would witness something few souls ever had¨Cand even fewer when faced with it.


    Caban Oxwell released a breath.


    And then¨C


    ¡°My sword mirrors the wind through the leaves, silent as my doubts, inevitable as the seasons. With this stroke, I honour the cycle, drawing strength from what I have lost. Fate has cast its thread, and now I carve its final path.¡±


    He drew his sword.


    Even before it left its sheath, it was wreathed in flames to match the circle around his feet. Time stood still, and all the world silently observed.


    ¡°Blazing Adjudicator Form, 10th Stance ... [Shortcake Cut]!¡±


    Thus ¡­ Liliane waited, watched ¡­ and then tilted her head.


    ¡°... Hm?¡±


    Her note of extreme confusion was the only sound she heard.


    There was none from the young swordsman as he leapt. With a strike both agile and true, he cleaved directly through the waiting pincers of the spider queen, bursting through in a single movement.


    The queen spider stood still. And then its two halves cleanly collapsed.


    Yes ¡­ just as if he was cutting a shortcake.


    Pwoooosh.


    A moment later, all that could be seen of the young queen was an array of jewels as it shattered.


    But these weren¡¯t the false rubies which had covered its figure.


    No ¡­ these were actual jewels.


    Emeralds, sapphires and pearls which would turn the seamstresses of Marinsgarde into ravenous vultures. They scattered amidst golden bracelets, silver rings and coins of both colours. Because the greatest of jewel spiders didn¡¯t merely guard treasure.


    They consumed it, hoarding it within themselves.


    Even so ¡­ Liliane¡¯s eyes barely discerned the mound of gold.


    Amidst the trove in the creature¡¯s wake, a single item stood out, calling out to her.


    A circlet.


    Or something similar. One which had little reason to exist in a jewel spider queen¡¯s abdomen. At least to those with normal eyes.


    It was a crude thing, resembling the way goblins shaped whatever armour was too big for them. A band of rusted iron which had once been something else hammered and bent until it formed a shape fit for a scalp. As decoration, small precious stones had been inserted into the design, but it was even more coarse than the rest of the headpiece.


    There was no value in this object ¡­ other than to mages.


    Liliane could feel it. The magic. The power. The memories.


    They all coursed through it like the blood in her veins. And she knew at once what this circlet was.


    A crown of empowerment.


    The most treasured item sought by archmages and great wizards. A symbol of power and status, for that is what it gave. A headpiece which bore the magic of the one who¡¯d crafted it. A reminder more potent than any tombstone, for the secrets it held was also what it offered.


    This was worth a king¡¯s ransom.


    ¡°... Ouch, ouchouchouch, hamstring, hamstring, ¡­¡±


    Suddenly, Liliane was brought out of her stupor.


    In complete contrast to the impressive image he¡¯d conjured as he cleaved through the queen spider, Caban hopped on the spot, grabbing his leg as he desperately sought to soothe a pulled muscle.


    Liliane let out a sigh, forcing the image of the crown from her eyes.


    Mostly for her own good.


    ¡°That was well done, Mr. Oxwell.¡±


    ¡°Just Caban will do. And yeah, glad that worked. Usually I just end up hitting a tree.¡±


    Liliane had nothing to say to that.


    It was a very legitimate concern. When it came to reasons that warriors had broken noses, moving adversaries with teeth or weapons were second. Trees co-opted as training partners were the first.


    ¡°Not a bad haul though, eh?¡± he said, glancing over at the spilled treasure. ¡°I reckon that¡¯s enough to give me a look at the secret guild shop nobody¡¯s meant to talk about. I sense a good pair of boots out of this.¡±


    Liliane nodded.


    More than just the boots, he was likely to receive the strings on them as well.


    ¡°This is a hoard worthy of an A-rank adventuring team,¡± she noted. ¡°It¡¯s no wonder the goblins were overly keen to test themselves. If this was only a matriarch, they would certainly have been able to overwhelm it.¡±


    ¡°Better than anything I¡¯ve seen outside of my dreams, at least.¡± Caban smiled, before gesturing at what Liliane was doing her best not to be enthralled by. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fun claiming our cut for this. Ladies first, of course. I wouldn¡¯t have been able to go through that thing if you hadn¡¯t softened it first.¡±


    Liliane almost snorted.


    Not at Caban¡¯s observation. That much was true.


    No, she was amused at his candour. She¡¯d seen adventuring teams disintegrate over the distribution of spoils. That was a topic more dangerous than the breath of dragons. And here he was offering the first pick out of politeness.


    He had a lot to learn.


    BrrwuuUmmmMuMmmmMm.


    And once the shaking had stopped, Liliane could begin her explanation.


    It didn¡¯t, of course.


    Suddenly, an encore of dust and a smattering of rubble fell from the ceiling. The wooden shafts creaked. And then the walls themselves began to break. One by one, chitinous legs burst forth from deep within the rocks.


    Liliane let out a curse, remembering all too late that the loss of a spider queen was itself a death throe which summoned all its brood. Even those yet to hatch.


    There was no need for words.


    The two adventurers turned at once towards the direction of the entrance. Yet even if any light could be gleaned, it¡¯d surely be smothered by the veil of darkness which was the mass of tiny spiderlings which began to swarm the walls, the ground, even the ceiling.


    Hundreds. Thousands.


    And all possessed the same red gleam in their eyes.


    They would all cease to exist before the hour was done. But for what they intended, they likely only needed a few minutes.


    Caban offered her a hopeful look.


    ¡°Right, well, I suppose this is when you normally do your handy teleport thing?¡±


    Liliane clenched her fists.


    Teleportation wasn¡¯t her specialty in the slightest. Few had the knack for it, and even fewer could teleport more than their own clothes with them. The risk of them being sent deeper into the tunnels was the kindest one.


    Still, she had little time and fewer options.


    She raised her arms.


    And then¨Cshe saw it.


    The glint from the circlet. The magic seeping out like an overflowing river. A song which called to her like a mother¡¯s lullaby.


    It was a simple decision.


    Without hesitation, she dove for the makeshift headpiece. The magic crackled in her hands. The promise of answers to secrets untold. Yet as she placed the crown of empowerment upon herself, the last thing she saw was a curious one.


    For a single, fleeting moment, she thought she caught sight of a merchant sitting on a crate, idly twirling a beret upon his fingertip.


    And then he was gone, lost amidst smoke and a parting smile.


    The next moment¨C


    Liliane saw everything.

 Chapter 325: Skipping Steps

    Snap.


    A pair of adventurers blinked into existence. But only one stumbled.


    As a deeply relieved swordsman attended to the business of patting the grass beneath him, Liliane only stood and blinked. She assessed her surroundings. Sunlight streamed past her auburn bangs, and what she saw as she raised a hand to shield her eyes were goblins.


    Before a wall of trees, a small tribe¡¯s worth were gathered in a semi-circle around them.


    There were a hundred she could see and a hundred more she couldn¡¯t. Their relatively small frames faded into the forest behind them, except where the larger hobgoblins and loyal wolves stood.


    However, while their wide eyes were upon the two adventurers suddenly appearing in their midst, their hooked weapons and poisoned arrows were facing elsewhere.


    Towards the entrance of a mining shaft.


    Liliane was ecstatic.


    Aside from the fact they were alive, she¡¯d perfectly brought both herself and a passenger exactly where she wanted. She¡¯d imagined it, wished it, willed it ¡­ and it was as simple as that.


    Just like her teachers used to say.


    It wasn¡¯t that she never believed them. But some fields of magic were inaccessible even to the most talented of mages, of which Lilane would never count herself. Teleporting was a school few were naturally predisposed towards. Especially since the results of incorrect spellcasting was always lesson one. And the next dozen lessons as well.


    It needed a warrior¡¯s confidence in one¡¯s ability. And that was something she lacked.


    Until now.


    Now ¡­ everything was possible.


    How could it not be? She¡¯d just undergone a thousand lessons, trials and exercises all at once.


    The moment she¡¯d placed that circlet upon her head, it was as though the contents of a hidden library had been penned into her mind. She saw all the pages flipping before her, words which whisked by faster than she could read.


    Runes, spells and scribbles left afterimages like a burning candle in her eyes.


    It was overwhelming, stifling, suffocating.


    ¡­ And it was wonderful.


    Liliane didn¡¯t understand. But she didn¡¯t need to. She simply knew.


    As she swallowed a deep breath, it was as though she were breaching the surface of an ocean of knowledge. And all she wanted to do was dive straight back in.


    Memories not her own fluttered like a butterfly in her head. She caught snatches of a balcony not her own, a warm evening, a vast horizon ¡­ and a voice tutting, pondering and musing while unravelling the secrets of the world.


    The crown of empowerment had belonged to someone great.


    And now it belonged to her.


    Liliane stood before her surprised audience. But it wasn¡¯t only her arrival which drew stares around her.


    It was the rumbling of countless legs coming from within the mine.


    She chose to meet them all.


    Magic swirled around her like fireflies to a pond as she stepped towards the entrance. Within the darkness which seeped out, a hint of the spiderlings crept out. Flashes of tiny gemstones and crimson eyes moved like a thousand omens.


    She raised her palms, and a spell she¡¯d never known appeared like a drawing in her mind.


    Liliane rarely did flames, storms and gales. She was the closest thing to a hands on mage there was, observing and studying the things around her. But for all her powers of conjuration, they were only ever impressions. Sturdy impressions, yes. But she was neither a dwarf with a chisel nor a blacksmith with a hammer. She could not shape or change the world.


    Until now.


    For the first time in her life, she didn¡¯t merely conjure a replica of what she wanted.


    She crafted it.


    ¡°[Tidal Avalanche].¡±


    She called. And the world answered.


    The foundations shook like grains of sand in a bucket.


    Before her, the wooden supports framing the mine entrance collapsed as entire boulders and rocks were lifted. They turned and twisted ¡­ before crumpling as easily as wads of parchment. The field of pebbles hung like a constellation, each newly made dot spinning like its own star, its own world.


    A moment later¨Call the sky fell.


    The hail of shards and stone crashed as the first spiderlings sought to escape the mine, crushing the mountain it was built into in the process. A shockwave was sent in all directions, so powerful it disintegrated the fragile creatures and the fledgling gemstones they possessed.


    What had been a modest mountain was turned into a dune of destruction, now proof of her newly awoken mastery.


    As a plume of fresh dust spun towards the clouds, a whistle sounded in the air.


    ¡°... Not bad,¡± said Caban, slowly rising from the grass while staring at the rubble. ¡°Not bad at all. Can see why you didn¡¯t try that inside. Gotta be honest, even for an A-rank, I didn¡¯t know you had that in you.¡±


    Liliane blinked at her own hands.


    She hadn¡¯t known, either. To draw an impression of the stars was not something she easily accomplished even in her own mind.


    But that was before.


    Now, she no longer doubted her credentials. Nor did that whisper of an impressed voice, whose unseen figure nodded like a professor she had always known, always respected.


    Because in the end, what Liliane had lacked wasn¡¯t magical acumen. It was imagination. And if she believed she could become more, then there was no reason why she already wasn¡¯t.


    That was where everything started.


    With a clear head.


    And hers had never been so empty of distractions ¡­ even with a crown now weighing it down.


    ¡°The circlet I¡¯m wearing,¡± she said, reaching up, but not yet daring to tap at her headpiece. ¡°From the queen jewel spider. It¡¯s a crown of empowerment. A magical artifact highly sought after by mages.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s what it is.¡± Caban peered at the circlet with a swordman¡¯s polite lack of understanding. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of these things. Expensive.¡±


    ¡°More than expensive. The best staff will allow a mage to better channel all their strength. But a crown such as this offers some of the crafter¡¯s own magic. It is a capsule of knowledge. Artificers will work their whole lives to create something like this.¡±


    Liliane gulped as she considered the item¡¯s worth.


    Had word escaped that it was in the abdomen of a jewel spider, then there¡¯d be no jewel spiders left in the kingdom. Only eager mages, their apprentices ¡­ and the goblins who got there first.


    Liliane turned around to face the watching semi-circle. The tribe had clearly waited in ambush to finish off what remained of the queen spider. But any sign of disappointment was missing.


    On their faces was something else.


    Concern. Anxiousness. Worry.


    A sight she saw rarely while promoting the storefronts of Marinsgarde in a barmaid¡¯s uniform ¡­ but still not quite as rare as a group of goblins suddenly huddling like penguins seeking warmth.


    The entire mass came together, heads and knees butting with equal disdain. It was a sight both curious and slightly comical¨Cwere it not for the whispers, the nods, the pointing, the elbow jabbing and the shin kicking all entirely pointed in Liliane¡¯s direction ¡­ and also at the crown upon her head.


    She knew it already.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They were here for that. There was nothing else of remotely equal value.


    Liliane stepped back at once.


    Even so, there was no rush of hands and leaping figures hoping to swipe it from her scalp. In the end, only a single goblin emerged from the huddle, his helmet consisting solely of a white chef¡¯s hat. A position of high honour.


    He walked up to Liliane, and with all the eyes of his peers upon his back, offered a nod while leaning away slightly, as if concerned she might burst into flames.


    She wouldn¡¯t, of course. At least not on purpose.


    ¡°¡®Scuse me,¡± he said, his words gruff but perfectly clear. ¡°I think you¡¯re wearing our hat.¡±


    Liliane¡¯s hands momentarily jerked towards the crown.


    She forced them to her sides instead, before offering the same smile that she¡¯d learned from the guild receptionists. That always puts people at ease.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± she said brightly. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Liliane Harten. I¡¯m an A-rank member of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. I came here to inquire about the purpose of your tribe¡¯s presence. This mine is the property of the lord and lady of Marinsgarde.¡±


    The goblin glanced over at the mine. All that remained was the smoke seeping from the rubble.


    Then, he looked tellingly at the circlet once more.


    ¡°We¡¯re not here for the mine. You can keep that. We came for the hat.¡±


    Liliane pursed her lips.


    ¡°I see ¡­ unfortunately, by the law of spoils, this circlet is now property of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. It was not taken from a goblin, but a jewel spider inhabiting our recognised jurisdiction.¡±


    It was a simple, but effective argument. Whoever the crown used to belong to, it¡¯d been ceded the moment it was both taken by a monster and then brought somewhere far away entirely.


    Liliane was already prepared for the unwillingness to see it that way.


    However, far from being met by a barrage of wrinkled noses, she was instead met by a shrug.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fair,¡± conceded the goblin. ¡°But you still don¡¯t want it.¡±


    ¡°... And why would that be?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the hat of the goblin chieftain. Unless you want to be the next chieftain, I suggest letting it go.¡±


    All Liliane could do was groan.


    It was clear this was a goblin design. But if it also signified leadership, then even as a spoil of treasure, the expectation as an adventurer was clear. It would need to be returned.


    Even so ¡­ her hands didn''t move up to offer it.


    She had little idea how the powers of empowerment came to reside within its rudimentary design, but even with the greatest shamans they had, not a single one would be able to utilise its power. It was inherently arcane, and their magic was that of nature. It was a veritable crime against sense to see its potential disregarded. Especially when it could be put to so much better use.


    For all of them.


    ¡°This is a crown of empowerment,¡± she said simply. ¡°Do you have any mages who can utilise its effects?¡±


    The goblin merely stared, as though the answer spoke itself.


    Instead, he shook his head.


    ¡°We¡¯ve no shamans in our tribe.¡±


    Liliane¡¯s hopes for a satisfying conclusion lit up at once.


    Not a single shaman was indicative of a particularly small tribe. Perhaps what she saw was all they had.


    ¡°Really? Then I¡¯d like to make an offer. Please let me keep this circlet, and in return, I promise your tribe will benefit fully from its use. I can use it. If you have any territory you¡¯ve laid claim to that¡¯s inaccessible, too dangerous or too populated by monsters, I can ensure your safety. Or if that¡¯s not enough, I can offer its value in gold or items. The guild would pay handsomely for its acquisition.¡±


    The goblin raised his brow.


    Not a single wrinkle of his nose. A mark of the seriousness that he took this issue. And also the respect he was offering Liliane¡¯s display of magical prowess.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the problem,¡± he said. ¡°The problem is that you¡¯re wearing it. And while you¡¯re wearing it, one of us isn¡¯t wearing it. Only our leader can wear it. And begging your pardon, but you don¡¯t look like leadership material.¡±


    And just like that, the goblin held out his palm.


    Liliane clenched her fists, but nothing could be done.


    After all, she couldn¡¯t deny the goblins their symbol of leadership, even if she was well in her rights to. Relations between them and the guild would be set back decades for the offence.


    And seeing the clear expectation upon the goblin¡¯s expression, he understood the same.


    Her hands rose, fingers brushing against the crudely bent iron.


    It was as far as she went.


    Even the thought of removing it now, so soon after attaining it caused her vision to go hazy. It was anathema to her very soul. She knew this is what she¡¯d been lacking. It was to her what the missing heirloom blade was to a swordsman. And this crown was a sword, shield and full suit of armour all rolled into one.


    It was meant for her. She couldn¡¯t just toss it away.


    ¡°... I¡¯d like to offer a trade.¡±


    ¡°No trade.¡±


    ¡°You must want something. Please name a price.¡±


    ¡°No price.¡±


    Liliane was beside herself with disbelief.


    It was absurd. To lose such an item was calamitous.


    No more than that, it would be wrong. Ethically wrong.


    With this, she could achieve all she aspired to be. She could clear every mine, forest and abandoned lumbermill of the spiders and mothbears which infested them. She could sweep away the bandits and con artists which plagued the roads. She could delve into the upper layers of the abyss, marking her name like the greatest legends of the past.


    She could even have her plushies for sale in shop windows.


    If goblins possessed such a thing, what would happen? It would be used as literal decoration. A ceremonial headpiece. That was unacceptable.


    Liliane had a duty of care. The waste was unfathomable.


    Thus, she offered a solemn look before providing her answer.


    It was enough. More than looks of apprehension met her now. There was alarm. Panic as eyes traded glances and hands gripped around weapons. The clear worry sent a streak of satisfaction through her she had never known before. A jovial laugh of approval fluttered through her mind.


    Enough that she wanted to see more.


    Liliane only had one answer to give.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but¨C¡±


    ¡°Woooah there.¡±


    ¡­ And she¡¯d give it as soon as a certain adventurer no longer stood between her and the goblins.


    Holding his palms up, Caban smiled easily to all present, then offered an apologetic nod to everyone except Liliane as he began unsubtly steering her away.


    ¡°Excuse me, begging your apology, everyone, but allow me to consult with my colleague for just a moment.¡±


    Thus, he dragged her a few steps to the side. Once satisfied, he stood in front and smiled.


    ¡°Uh, Miss Harten, I¡¯ve a question ¡­ what are you doing?¡±


    Liliane pursed her lips.


    ¡°As I¡¯ve said ¡­ this is a crown of empowerment.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Caban gave a little point. ¡°Their crown of empowerment. Or just their hat, as they call it.¡±


    ¡°They do not deserve it,¡± said Liliane at once, the snapping nature of her voice causing even herself to flinch. ¡°They have no way to use it.¡±


    The other adventurer merely shrugged.


    ¡°I mean, there¡¯s a lot that folks deserve and don¡¯t deserve. But that¡¯s not the argument here. This thing is goblin craftsmanship. We¡¯re gonna have a hard time pretending it¡¯s not theirs. You can¡¯t just run off with it. There¡¯ll be every level of the hells to pay. Fair enough, we adventurers don''t have the greatest track record with that kind of stuff. But even this is a little overt.¡±


    ¡°I can help them.¡±


    ¡°Well, from what I know of goblins, they do okay. I¡¯m not too sure if they want or need help.¡±


    Liliane had to stop herself from beginning an argument.


    She could already tell it would never end. And yet his words also couldn¡¯t be disregarded.


    If and when the goblins complained, it would leave a blotch on her otherwise untarnished record. It didn¡¯t matter how many cats she scooped up from trees. There were too many like Caban Oxwell ¡­ like Timon Quinsley in the guild. They didn¡¯t see the bigger picture.


    They didn¡¯t see what she could achieve.


    In which case, the answer was simple.


    She just needed to do something nobody could ignore.


    Liliane briefly closed her eyes ¡­ and there amidst the momentary silence, a clear path appeared, so obvious it seemed like it was lit by a thousand candles flaring in the night.


    There was a simple solution, just as there usually was.


    One that would suit everyone¡¯s needs.


    All she needed was to demonstrate a little initiative.


    ¡°... I understand what to do now,¡± she said with a bright smile.


    Caban leaned slightly away, fresh concern in his eyes.


    ¡°Uh ¡­ okay, was sort of hoping you¡¯d do the whole snapping out of it thing instead. I¡¯m gonna be frank. I know we¡¯ve just met, but this seems a bit, well, not quite normal. You sure that goblin hat isn¡¯t putting words in your head? I hear magical items buried in spider juices can do that.¡±


    ¡°This crown only bolsters my magic. My thoughts are my own. Anything else is a lingering residue.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so, that right there is kind of concerning. But that¡¯s fine. I¡¯ve an easy solution. How about you take off the crown for just a moment and then decide what you want to do with it?¡±


    ¡°I am not relinquishing this crown, Mr. Oxwell. It¡¯s the only thing that will allow our escape if the goblins decide arrows are more persuasive than words.¡±


    ¡°All right, then ¡­ what do you have in mind if you ain¡¯t gonna let the hat go?¡±


    Liliane turned towards the waiting goblins.


    To a challenge which S-ranks had failed to achieve.


    After all, despite the treaties, relations between goblins and the guild were still woefully fractured.


    If this could be repaired, it would be groundbreaking. A history of enmity set aside. She would win untold accolades for it. Even Thomas Lainsfont sweeping across the kingdom solving village disputes didn¡¯t do anything as absurd as that.


    ¡­ And Liliane knew just the way to achieve it.


    ¡°Leadership,¡± she said simply.


    Behind her, she heard Caban let out a wearisome sigh.


    ¡°Well ¡­ you¡¯re the senior. Just know that when push comes to shove, I¡¯m putting the responsibility on you. I¡¯m not losing my B-rank trial over this.¡±


    Liliane couldn¡¯t help but snort.


    It was a relief, in a way. To know that in the end, even Thomas Lainsfont¡¯s prodigy cared about his own skin. That was good. It would ensure he lived.


    A heartbeat later, she suddenly paused.


    ¡°[Shockwave].¡±


    Pwooomph.


    A wave of force extended in all directions from her clapping palms.


    Immediately, she looked behind her to see the sight of an adventurer flung away into a mound of rubble, his hand still outstretched where he¡¯d sought to take the crown. He groaned and felt his head.


    Liliane was surprised.


    But strangely, there was no anger. Only disappointment.


    He couldn''t know, after all.


    He was a C-rank swordsman. He did not understand responsibility. None of them did.


    Not the way she now did.


    Liliane¡¯s mind had never been so clear. And so even as she set her eyes on a crowd of shocked goblins gingerly rising, then stumbling from the blast or still clinging onto trees, her mind was already turning elsewhere.


    To the next step. The next rung.


    The Oldest Ladder was a long climb, after all.


    And she had little intention of allowing anyone else to pass her.

 Chapter 326: Too Much Of A Good Thing

    In the centre of Marinsgarde, a handsome statue stood watch over the people.


    Hands on his hips, the famously chiselled jawline of my ancestor, Prince Earlan the Stout, was turned to the sky in a classical pose designed to allow his chin to best catch the midday gleam.


    Gifted in the days when Marinsgarde was but a traveller¡¯s hub of little renown, he stood as a monument to the spirit of my people, looking ever to the distant horizon regardless of what clouds may mar it.


    Normally, that is.


    Because now, far from being a monument of spirit, he looked like he was simply gasping for breath.


    Beyond the doorstep of Marinsgarde, the goblin bazaar failed to cease.


    In fact, it only became grander.


    The wooden stalls were now joined by tents, pavilions and pop-up caf¨¦s, filling the bustling promenade all the way into the town square. Of Prince Earlan the Stout, only his head could be seen as a festival¡¯s worth of makeshift enterprises occupied this otherwise quaint space.


    The boutiques, sewing houses and patisseries fared even worse. Only the bright rooftops hinted at the storefronts below, their colourful window displays now as hidden as the alleys between them.


    But not because of the goblins.


    No ¡­ it was because of themselves.


    ¡°Milea¡¯s Famous Bakery is selling moss cakes! We use local ingredients and a traditional goblin recipe! Fresh and stale moss cakes now for sale!¡±


    ¡°Tailored rags and sequin loincloths! Let your clothes smile for you! Come visit one of the House of Silk¡¯s 17 stalls all along the main street! We do both goblin and hobgoblin sizes!¡±


    ¡°The Cave Fig Smoothie Company is officially open! All figs freshly harvested from the dampest caves!¡±


    ¡°Hats! I¡¯m selling¨C¡±


    I swished around at once.


    A young boy blinked up at me, holding up a poor quality beret.


    I narrowed my eyes, dipped my hand into my bottomless pouch, then retrieved a silver crown.


    ¡°Choose a different profession,¡± I advised him, dropping the coin into the hat.


    Turning away from the highly confused boy, I resumed the business of being stunned.


    Far from reeling at this apparent takeover of goblin merchants, all of Marinsgarde had turned out to offer healthy competition. Mostly against each other.


    Pavilions grand enough to house my knights and either their squire or their hair grooming collection were staked in the centre of the street, with little thought given to either their neighbours, or indeed, any room for walking past them in the first place.


    It was like a slice of the Summer Solstice Festival. And the reason was clear.


    Gold.


    But not necessarily in coins.


    Curious goblins surveyed the many wares on display.


    From sandals to helmets, sacks to gloves, everything a respectable goblin desired to one-up their political rivals could be found with a touch of Marinsgarde flair.


    Especially when they paid in loot.


    I watched with my mouth wide open as a golden statuette of Lady Lumielle was carefully offered upon a stall counter. A tiny effigy of the Goddess of Light, doubtless having vanished from a chapel with the same proficiency as macarons from the Royal Villa¡¯s kitchens.


    Then there were the candleholders, bowls and plates, each stamped with the Holy Church¡¯s symbol. Countless trinkets, tableware and treasures which the sisters would be infuriated to see gone.


    ¡­ And they were all being traded right in front of me.


    I gasped, both hands covering my mouth.


    I was horrified.


    Why ¡­ these goblins! Just what were they thinking?!


    How ¡­ How was I supposed to tax any of this?!


    Coins existed for a reason! They were easy to count, roll around in and fling as an emergency escape tool from a mob of rioting peasants! If they bartered solely in goods, how was the Royal Treasury to effectively profit?!


    ¡°How ¡­ How awful!¡±


    Beside me, my loyal handmaiden nodded wholeheartedly.


    ¡°I know! Why didn¡¯t you tell me you had at least one good town?¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me?! What do you mean by ¡®at least one¡¯?!¡±


    ¡°I mean you haven¡¯t had a town that sells goblin smoothies yet. They¡¯re amazing. I haven¡¯t had one of them since I almost fell down a volcano. And it was completely worth it. Have you ever tried a cave fig smoothie before?¡±


    ¡°Coppelia, I¡¯ve no idea what a ¡­ cave fig even is.¡±


    To my deep apprehension, she clapped her hands and beamed.


    ¡°Oh boy, you¡¯re going to enjoy this, then! Cave figs are a goblin delicacy.¡±


    Hmm.


    How interesting.


    I didn¡¯t know what alarmed me more. The fact that goblin delicacies existed or that Coppelia was considering assassinating me via my stomach.


    ¡°Please, Coppelia. I¡¯m currently looking at a town full of question marks and no obvious answers. Learning what ¡­ well, bizarre travesty has occurred is the only thing which matters. We¡¯ve no time to be sampling goblin delicacies, as enlightening as I¡¯m sure the experience is.¡±


    ¡°Is that because goblin delicacies are better than your own and you don¡¯t want everyone to know?¡±


    I gasped, then began frantically searching around me.


    ¡°Coppelia! You ¡­ You cannot say things like that! It ¡­ It is treason! ¡­ C-Coppelia?!¡±


    ¡°¨COne cave fig smoothie, please!¡±


    To my horror, she¡¯d already skipped to the nearest offending stall.


    Underneath a banner proudly bearing the word ¡®authentic¡¯ in bold lettering, the eager stallkeeper wasted no time in scooping up the crowns Coppelia only spent when she wished to elicit my groans.


    A word of gratitude later, a shiny concoction in a wooden cup with a bright orange straw was presented upon my semi-loyal handmaiden¡¯s hand. She waved me over with a smile twice as perilous.


    Even so, I cautiously tip-toed over ¡­ and then stared.


    Green.


    The beverage was green ¡­ and also wobbly.


    How very unusual. It had texture. Like a lethargic fruit slime stuffed into a cup.


    If it suddenly bounced away, I would ask no questions. Instead, it jiggled and no more. A last plea to be given the gift of mercy. And as memories of a man in a blackened helmet spilling strings of vomit flashed through my mind, I regretted that I was unlikely to be its saviour.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°... Coppelia, it¡¯s wobbly.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± She blinked at me. ¡°Because it¡¯s made from cave figs.¡±


    ¡°I require context. Are cave figs fruit? How do they compare to regular figs?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re completely different. They don¡¯t look, smell or taste the same in the slightest.¡±


    ¡°Then, why are they called cave figs?¡±


    ¡°So that when dumb humans loot goblin caves, they think it¡¯s okay to eat them.¡±


    ¡°... So it¡¯s not okay?¡±


    ¡°Only if you don¡¯t want to compete with the cave bees. They get super grumpy when you take their only source of food away.¡±


    ¡°Cave bees. To go with the cave figs. I see ¡­ and how are they even harvested, then?¡±


    ¡°With love. And lots of puffy cheeks.¡±


    I placed my face in my palms.


    A town full of goblins. Flocks of sheep waylaying the road. A single errant strand of my hair.


    And my greatest issue was Coppelia¡¯s excitement over what may very well be a mislabelled jelly terrine.


    ¡°... I cannot possibly sample this,¡± I said, as a passing goblin wrinkled his nose at me. ¡°Why, quite aside from the inappropriateness of consuming anything from a stall which isn¡¯t a mixed banana and berry cr¨ºpe, I haven¡¯t a clue if it¡¯s even edible. My apologies, but I must de¨C¡±


    ¡°1 free princess carry.¡±


    ¡°1,000,000,0002. On demand. No complaints.¡±


    ¡°1.¡±


    ¡°1,000,0002. Anything less is a travesty.¡±


    ¡°1.¡±


    ¡°100,000 ¡­ 10,000 ¡­¡±


    ¡°1 plus I¡¯ll also push you a bunch of times on the magic swing.¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°Ohhohohohohohoho!¡± I raised a hand to barely cover my smile. ¡°My, how cute. For all your knowledge, you¡¯ve so much left to learn regarding my famed wiles!¡±


    Coppelia¡¯s smile took on a hue of deep regret as the sweet lullaby of my amusement washed over her.


    ¡°Actually, I¨C¡±


    ¡°Very well, I accept, but know that I would have agreed with just a single sweep off my feet!¡±


    A moment later, I narrowed my eyes towards the glistening beverage. A wriggling surface of uncertain ingredients and even more uncertain flavour.


    A goblin smoothie.


    It was, frankly, hardly the usual refreshment I tossed through the window.


    In fact, despite all my personal studies in the world of bestselling adventure romance novels, I¡¯d never once come across mention of such a thing.


    ¡­ But how bad could it be?


    Why, compared to the flashes of liquid brown, salt and sadness which often haunted my nightmares, what was a dose of green?


    If anything, it was positively colourful!


    Thus, I leaned in with a delicate fingertip.


    With my healing touch via an orange straw to first give the fruit slime a chance at survival, I poked and stirred. The sensation was bizarre. The response more so. The construct jiggled like a block of marmalade gel¨¦e.


    Hesitation stilled my hand. But only for a moment.


    With an eye closed in trepidation, I bravely leaned in ¡­ and swiftly took the smallest of sips.


    A moment passed.


    That moment soon became a long silence, interrupted only by Coppelia carefully appraising me.


    ¡°... Sooooooooo? What do you think?¡±


    I swallowed.


    And then¨C


    Fftttfffftfffffffffttttttt.


    ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ It¡¯s so good?!¡±


    I was shocked!


    Why, rather than a drink, it was almost like slurping ¡­ no, gently sipping a chiffon cake!


    It was airy ¡­ even bubbly!


    Goodness! I¡¯d never experienced anything like it before! If such a thing was presented in my father¡¯s court, we¡¯d have the inventor imprisoned in the royal kitchens with an exceptional salary! How goblins discovered the technique to emulate this strange texture was beyond any theory I had!


    ¡°What¡¯d I say?¡± Coppelia beamed with satisfaction. ¡°You think hill giants are good with a mixing spoon, but what do you think goblins do all day? Being able to make tasty snacks is a mark of pride. After all, it¡¯s really hard when you don¡¯t have any ingredients.¡±


    ¡°But ¡­ But then how is the bubbly texture made?¡±


    ¡°The secret¡¯s in the name. Cave figs are cultivated to retain moisture even when finely ground and strained. The bubbly texture is caused by the tiny droplets releasing into the smoothie.¡±


    I nodded at once.


    Immediately, my mind was awash with thoughts on how to best make use of this.


    Every single one of them to do with my personal survival.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see!¡± I clapped my hands in delight. ¡°How very curious! Could it be used as a finely ground weapon, I wonder? Perhaps against those with known gastronomical issues? ¡­ If so, I could rid myself of at least a quarter of my suitors over a suspect pot of tea! Is it possible to replicate this effect without using figs grown in caves and guarded by bees?¡±


    ¡°Nope. And definitely don¡¯t trust anybody who says otherwise. Not only do you need cave figs, but the caves themselves need to be the right type as well. The damper, the better.¡±


    Ugh.


    That was the worst answer. As a princess, I could have anything I wanted¨Cas long as it wasn¡¯t a damp cave.


    Still, I examined the wooden cup, mysteriously emptied from where Coppelia must have drank it.


    There was much which needed improving just as a smoothie. The presentation most of all.


    However, even the kitchen staff of the Royal Villa would struggle to create something so light without it simply floating away. I had no doubt that given a short amount of time and considerable stress on someone¡¯s part, an especially fine product could be fashioned.


    If nothing else, my nobility could be entertained away from treason for as much as 2 hours.


    ¡°Very well, then. Coppelia, please make a mental note for me. I must ask the stewards to make discreet inquiries about buying out all the cave figs in the kingdom. It¡¯s an unorthodox ingredient, yes, but haute cuisine has seen worse days.¡±


    ¡°Got it! We¡¯re gonna outmuscle all the other smoothie makers!¡±


    I nodded, glad that she understood.


    A moment later, I turned towards the stallkeeper.


    His smile was already creaking. I hardly saw why. I hadn¡¯t left yet.


    ¡°Excuse me, I see that the goblins have been busy. Could you please tell me how they came to establish themselves here? I see they¡¯ve appropriated an unsanctioned bazaar in the doorsteps of the town, to say nothing of the one here. As far as I¡¯m aware, the number of trading licences in Marinsgarde is deliberately capped at a rate to ensure you fight amongst each other and not the rulers of the town. How has this been permitted? ¡­ Why, the chiselled jawline of Prince Earlan the Stout can scarcely be seen!¡±


    The stallkeeper blinked.


    Then, he leaned forwards, looked past me at the queue which didn¡¯t exist and sighed.


    ¡°Uh, I¡¯m not sure about the specifics, but the goblins have an arrangement with the town.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I see? Did they offer gold? A ludicrous sum now being inspected by the Royal Treasury, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°Not sure about that. But I do know quite a few joined the Adventurer¡¯s Guild.¡±


    I briefly closed my eyes, massaging my temples.


    Even now, I struggled to believe it just as much as I did in the forest. Especially as the sight of their wholesale looting was burned into my mind as much as the cackling ghost of a lord.


    ¡°... And the guild accepted? Without quarrel? Bribery?¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose you¡¯d need to ask the guild about that. There was plenty of concern at first¨Cand still is, to be fair. But the goblins have been working hard to win us over.¡±


    I watched as a goblin offered a golden chalice engraved with the signature of the Holy Church¡¯s high ambassador to my kingdom. For a pair of socks.


    I nodded, unable to find fault.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been accommodating customers, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah. Can¡¯t complain about that. But it¡¯s more than what they buy. It¡¯s what they do. They¡¯ve been clearing cellars of giant rats, booting drunks towards the guardhouse, fixing rooftops and saving cats from trees. All the things you¡¯d expect adventurers to do. Just last week, they even helped paint my window frames.¡±


    The man paused.


    ¡°... For free.¡±


    ¡°Free?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Think what you like, but in my opinion, they¡¯re great. And so is the guild, for that matter.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me? What do you mean by that?¡±


    The stallkeeper nodded in quiet appreciation.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s hard not to be impressed. Even though there¡¯s so much bad history there, the guild is still open-minded enough to accept goblins. And now they¡¯re one and the same. Honestly, I never thought too much of the guild before. Mostly a bunch of young lads looking for trouble. But with these goblins? ¡­ Well, their stock has never been higher in my books.¡±


    ¡°Wha¨C¡±


    My mouth slowly widened in horror.


    Then, I was forced to cling onto Coppelia as my legs suddenly gave way.


    This ¡­ This was beyond my worst expectations!


    The goblins weren¡¯t simply utilising the guild to their own ends?!


    They were actually ¡­ working?!


    I was appalled beyond measure. If they fulfilled all the functions the regular layabouts lacked the sobriety to do, then the guild¡¯s reputation was certain to rise to no end!


    That ¡­ That couldn¡¯t be allowed!


    They were leeches who fed on gratitude!


    Even if I managed to bankrupt and replace them wholesale with my farmboys-to-heroes scheme, such lingering sentiment was enough for them to endure like the cockroaches they were!


    ¡°C-Coppelia!¡± I shook her arm. ¡°This is far more serious than we could have imagined!¡±


    ¡°Terrible, huh?¡± She sipped from the straw of a brand new smoothie. ¡°Fffffttt ¡­ the goblins are making everyone else look bad.¡±


    ¡°I know! They¡¯re virtuously helping the townspeople with no regard to greed! It is awful.¡±


    I shook my head and frowned.


    Indeed, there was no time to waste!


    I pointed immediately for another smoothie, then swept around and set my eyes on where my answers lay.


    The Adventurer¡¯s Guild.


    ¡°¡­ Come, Coppelia! These goblins threaten to undo all the work I¡¯ve done! Their horrific altruism must be stopped at once! For the good of the kingdom!¡±


    ¡°Yay~¡± She lifted a smoothie high in the air. ¡°Furniture, doors and goblins! Let¡¯s gooo~!¡±

 Chapter 327: Cultural Exchange

    A distinguished guest was already visiting the Marinsgarde branch of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild.


    I made no effort to hide my surprise.


    Indeed, there was little reason to. Although it was rare for a princess to be upstaged and even rarer that the princess was me, etiquette and my mother¡¯s frown dictated that when someone of higher status takes the floor, I should cede it gracefully.


    As such, I had neither cause for shame nor complaint.


    Because currently ¡­ that rarest of guests had chosen to acknowledge the adventurers of my kingdom.


    Silence.


    I blinked around me.


    A common room like any other. Except that instead of hoodlums competing to see who could squeeze themselves backside first into a keg, all I saw was a stillness to match the overcrowded statues of my ancestors.


    Gone were the scenes of wanton disorder.


    No drinks smashed together in a frothy rainbow of alcohol. No fists traded places with cheeks in a traditional greeting. No songs escaped charges of treason by virtue of their words being indecipherable.


    Only the subtle odour of debauchery remained, the waft as permanent as the stains on the floorboard.


    But aside from that, all I saw amidst tables and chairs scattered in perfect arrangement to cause accidental injury were adventurers staring blankly into their cups.


    Their eyes were as white as their faces.


    Here and there, brief snatches of movement gave hints of life.


    A hoodlum with more scars than teeth blew at the foam atop his beverage, counting the bubbles as they popped. A lady with arms the size of anvils slowly turned her head to follow a moth circling around a spent candle. A ruffian scribbled his name into his table, devaluing its worth with each iteration of his poor handwriting.


    A sombre atmosphere as meek as the bubbling of the communal cauldron.


    Doubting my eyes and possibly my sense of direction, I stole a few steps backwards, parted the door I¡¯d entered through, then peeked outside to read the sign once again.


    Adventurer¡¯s Guild


    Marinsgarde Branch


    Yes.


    I was well and truly confused.


    Naturally, to enter any abode and be met with quiet adoration was only normal. Except that adventurers didn¡¯t do quiet adoration. Or normal for that matter.


    They did hollering mixed with frantic yelping as they tripped over their own steins.


    Not a single one of which was now rolling across the floor.


    ¡°Coppelia ¡­ am I reading the sign incorrectly, or is this clearly not the Adventurer¡¯s Guild?¡±


    A thoughtful hum came my way.


    ¡°The ratio of alcohol kegs to humans is 27 to 1. I count more fermented liquor per square metre than there is in a brewery. This is definitely the Adventurer¡¯s Guild.¡±


    Both the sign and her answer only drew an uncertain tilt of my head.


    Turning to the hall once again, I searched for the cause of this strange despondency. However, despite my best efforts, I saw no signs of any mothers or fathers berating the life choices of their children.


    ¡°You there.¡± I clicked my fingers towards the nearest hoodlum instead. ¡°Question.¡±


    The man looked up from his directionless meandering.


    The tankard in his hand was as empty as his eyes. He blinked as my figure slowly came into view. And then the tapping of my foot as I waited for an answer.


    ¡°... A-Are you here to make a request?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°A request.¡± All of a sudden, the man¡¯s spirits was lifted by my healing aura. The muddied hands which had loosely gripped his tankard came to life. ¡°Is ¡­ Is it E-rank? No, even F-rank is fine. I ¡­ I can do D-rank as well! I¡¯ve over 25 commissions completed! Any request is fine!¡±


    I peeled away slightly ¡­ but nodded regardless.


    ¡°Very well. Just the type of unconditional service I expect. Here is my request¨Cexplain what I¡¯m seeing.¡±


    ¡°... Hm?¡±


    ¡°Has a shipment of alcohol been waylaid and now a single day of next year is at risk of productivity? I¡¯ve been here for mere seconds and haven¡¯t seen a single new stain added to the floor. What is the cause of this sudden quiet? ¡­ More importantly, how can I recreate it?¡±


    The man blinked at me.


    Then, he glanced towards the ring disgracing my finger.


    His shoulders dropped on my behalf at once, despondency returning like the tide.


    ¡°Oh ¡­ I thought you were here to make a request.¡±


    ¡°I am. And mine still stands. What am I seeing here?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± The man shook his head. ¡°Nothing at all. And that¡¯s the problem.¡±


    He pointed glumly at the wall.


    An ugly thing. And bare. But it hadn¡¯t always been. Patches of faded colour could be seen where notices and posters once were, their stay so long they¡¯d practically bled into the stone.


    It was all the answer I received.


    The man¡¯s chin almost met the floor as he slinked away, tankard in his hand and sniffles in his wake. I expected nothing less.


    In the end, it wasn¡¯t the louts who could offer the barest assistance. Then they¡¯d be useful.


    Instead, it was their overlords. Those who commanded them with an iron grip.


    Unfeeling emissaries of the night. Not a whisper went by where they didn¡¯t direct them. And not a single scheme was set in motion without their quiet nodding. They were the heralds of the void. The beacons of despair. The messenger in the night.


    Yes, it was ¡­


    ¡°Greetings,¡± said the goblin in a gruffy voice. ¡°Welcome to the Marinsgarde branch of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. How may I help you?¡±


    ¡­ not a receptionist.


    I rubbed my eyes and blinked.


    He was still there. And so I simply stared at the sight of a goblin behind a receptionist¡¯s desk some more. At a posture very much not immaculate. At a smile more bare than the wall. And at a nod so small that the white chef¡¯s hat he wore wasn¡¯t the tiniest bit disturbed.


    Which was just as well.


    That was the only thing correctly angled.


    He reached up and promptly nudged it.


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡± I pointed at once. ¡°W-Why are you sitting there?! Where is the harbinger?! You, wait ¡­ are you not the very same goblin who looted a tomb and then fled the scene of the crime?!¡±


    The goblin who very much did blinked at me.


    Then, he opened a drawer, lifted a neat stack of parchment and started flipping through it.


    ¡°I am here as part of the Marinsgarde Adventurer¡¯s Guild cultural exchange programme,¡± he said, enunciating each syllable as he slowly read. ¡°In order to experience all aspects of life as an adventurer, I am temporarily deputising for the receptionist.¡±


    I threw up my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°What is the Marinsgarde Adventurer¡¯s Guild cultural exchange programme?!¡±


    The goblin flipped to the next page.


    ¡°This cultural exchange programme is an official partnership project organised between the town and the say name here goblin tribe. Sponsored by the local branch of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, its goal is to foster positive relations and build enduring bridges by providing opportunities to explore the town, indulge in its rich history and to experience life as celebrated adventurers. In addition to undertaking voluntary work as adventurers, various administrative roles with the guild are also opened up for goblins to experience.¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Voluntary work?! ¡­ You looted a tomb!¡±


    The goblin flipped all the way to the first page.


    ¡°Although participating goblins in the cultural exchange programme are not paid remuneration for undertaking commissions, they are permitted to claim any legally classed treasure they encounter over the course of their voluntary endeavours in accordance with the Guild Code.¡±


    I was aghast.


    ¡°Legally classed treasure?! ¡­ Everything the guild breaks, they class as treasure! And you say this is official?! Why did you not explain this earlier?!¡±


    The goblin looked up from his pile of parchments.


    ¡°Earlier I wasn¡¯t a receptionist. I was an adventurer.¡±


    ¡°What difference does that make?!¡±


    ¡°Adventurers are bad at explaining.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes and leaned forwards.


    ¡°I want to see the guildmaster.¡±


    ¡°The guildmaster is unavailable.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I want to see the next person in charge.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the receptionist.¡± The goblin paused. ¡°She¡¯s on her break. Should I get her?¡±


    A moment of silence passed.


    ¡°... My, a goblin receptionist!¡± I smiled with a clap of my hands. ¡°And a ¡­ cultural exchange programme? Goodness, I never knew my kingdom was so open minded! How truly wonderful! It¡¯s a delight to see those of all walks of life engaging in Tirea¡¯s rich culture and heritage! I had no idea the adventurer¡¯s guild championed such initiatives!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very new,¡± said the goblin, only now leaning away.


    ¡°I see, I see ¡­ but goodness, such an ambitious endeavour not requiring an explanation by a receptionist is quite beyond what I expected of Marinsgarde ¡­ and goblins, for that matter. I confess I¡¯m rather shocked.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± The goblin simply stared. ¡°So are we.¡±


    I waited for an explanation.


    None came.


    ¡°... Excuse me, but I can¡¯t help but notice that the wall appears to be empty of commissions. By any chance, are they located elsewhere?¡±


    ¡°No. We did them all.¡±


    ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°All of them. Missing cats. Giant slugs. Lost bits and pieces. Didn¡¯t take very long. The tomb this morning only just came in. Otherwise, we mostly sit in trees waiting for cats to come up so we can toss them back down.¡±


    All of a sudden, a sniffle could be heard around me.


    A round of fresh despair swept around the hall as the faces of Marinsgarde¡¯s regular adventurers searched for hope in the bottom of their cups ¡­ as well as crowns.


    After all, if no cats were available for them to terrorise, then that meant the life of sloth and reverie they wantonly indulged in was now painfully out of reach.


    My hands covered my mouth.


    I ¡­ I was so torn!


    On one hand, these layabouts were now being threatened with seeking gainful employment! On the other hand, goblins were actively undermining my need to see the guild diminished!


    ¡°My, is that so ¡­ ?¡± I pursed my lips, forcing myself to stay the course. I would have my cake and eat it. But the slices would have to be in order. ¡°Thank you for this service. But you¡¯ll need to halt it. Or at least stop throwing cats.¡±


    ¡°... Because?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s unacceptable. If cats think they can no longer relax in the boughs of trees, they¡¯ll simply go elsewhere instead. Such as towers. Do not underestimate their climbing ability.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Is that it?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s also because I understand your talents are significantly wasted. What do you hope to gain from belittling yourselves as adventurers?¡±


    Up went a stack of parchment.


    I lowered it again with my finger.


    ¡°I wish for the unscripted version.¡±


    The goblin paused.


    Sharp eyes which belied his experience glanced towards the louts lost in their grief. They snapped back towards me with a dragon¡¯s vigour, lingering upon my sword far longer than the ring which now equally sullied us both.


    At last, he beckoned me closer ¡­ then immediately wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°Grubnog.¡±


    My mouth opened in horror.


    ¡°How dare you. That was highly uncalled for!¡±


    ¡°Grubnog isn¡¯t an insult,¡± said the goblin, his shoulders falling. ¡°That¡¯s the hobgoblin.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The hobgoblin. In the tomb. Possessed. What happened to Grubnog?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Him.¡± I frowned as I forced myself to think past the sheep that had waylaid me. ¡°He is well. Probably. And very confused. I suggest someone collects him so he doesn¡¯t bump into a tree. Goodness knows enough has been destroyed. And never once by me.¡±


    The goblin blinked.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine if he does,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°Grubnog has a tough head. What about the spirit?¡±


    ¡°Exorcised. At least in a manner I deemed fit.¡±


    I received a hard stare.


    Whatever thoughts of sadness at greeting adventurers now swirled within those dark eyes, I had no idea. All I knew was that my truthfulness was the only spark of joy while sitting behind that desk.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, his voice smaller than the nod of acknowledgement. ¡°... Maybe you can help. Because none of us are here to toss cats from trees.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I realise that already. Any scheme which involves cats is doomed to fail. And I value the common sense of goblins far more than those who use you. Speak freely. And preferably in 5 words or fewer. What completely preventable calamity has occurred?¡±


    The goblin nudged his hat once more. He shuffled his chair slightly, facing away from the common room.


    ¡°Our hat was taken.¡±


    Hmm.


    How ominous. These were not the worst 4 words I¡¯d heard. And yet all I felt was impending regret.


    ¡°Your hat.¡±


    ¡°Our hat. It belongs to our leader. Or it did. He was eaten by a jewel spider.¡±


    ¡°My commiserations.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It was awful. He should have been eaten by a mothbear instead. Harder to laugh at spiders.¡±


    The goblin shook his head in an act of mournfulness.


    I turned to Coppelia. She nodded seriously.


    ¡°... Fine. Eaten by a jewel spider. And then?¡±


    ¡°Someone took it,¡± said the goblin simply. ¡°Now we have a new leader.¡±


    I stepped back in horror.


    ¡°You cannot be serious.¡±


    ¡°Very serious.¡±


    My head spun from the shock of this revelation.


    Someone took a hat ¡­ and that made them the leader of a tribe of goblins?


    Why ¡­ that was no different to a farmer seizing my father¡¯s crown and declaring themselves king! The utter lack of legitimacy! The shameless thievery!


    ¡°That is terrible! I cannot believe this ¡­ who did this?! Who made a mockery of all that is just and legal?! What sort of monster would usurp your rightful hereditary leadership, only to torture you with such inane and mind numbing tasks as fetching cats from trees?! ¡­ Why, can you not simply disregard this illegal despot?¡±


    The goblin shrugged.


    ¡°I can. Others can¡¯t. The hat was earned the traditional way. By squishing the last thing to have it.¡±


    I leaned forwards and poked the goblin.


    ¡°This is the Kingdom of Tirea, and within this land, rulership cannot be seized. I will not have some drunk baron lost in a well hatching a plan to overthrow my kingdom based purely on this one precedent. Because that will happen.¡±


    I shook my head, my indignation rising on these innocent goblins¡¯ behalf.


    ¡°Rest assured, you¡¯ve an ally in your cause. I shall see to your plight. Who is responsible for this brazen insult in my realm? ¡­ Some hobgoblin? An ogre?¡±


    The goblin wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°No. An adventurer.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°An adventurer. She¡¯s known here. A human woman. Mage. High rank.¡±


    ¡°... My apologies, but could you repeat that? But in another way?¡±


    I received a small sigh, matching the despondency of those in the hall.


    ¡°They call her Liliane Harten. Had to find out myself. She never bothered. An A-rank adventurer. I know the type. Thought she¡¯d just give me the hat, but she squished things with magic instead. Now we do as she asks. It¡¯s not hard. Many of us like this. Especially the moss cakes. But I don¡¯t.¡±


    The goblin paused.


    ¡°The human adventurer taking leadership, I mean. Not the moss cakes.¡±


    I was rendered speechless.


    An adventurer ¡­ had taken leadership of goblins?


    Truly?


    Of all the louts the kingdom had to offer, I would never expect an adventurer of all people to decide to requisition goblins. All the more so if it was against their wishes. It was more than inappropriate. It was the type of scheme some ghoul freshly dug from the soil would aspire to achieve.


    And it was done instead by an adventurer?


    A high ranking one as well?


    ¡°The mage is strong,¡± said the goblin, no longer lowering his voice. ¡°Very strong. More than anyone here. More than me and you. The hat strengthens her. Empowers her. She told us. But I can see it as well. And I can see something wrong. She smiles. But not at us. She¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    I nodded solemnly.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Oho ¡­¡±


    The goblin blinked.


    ¡°Uh, what are¨C¡±


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ ohohoho ¡­ ohohooohhohhohohoho!!¡±


    I ¡­ I couldn¡¯t believe it!


    It¡¯s happened!


    It¡¯s finally happened!


    Ohohohoho! At last! They have erred!


    The gnats. The roaches. The parasites who fed on a diet of virtue in the warmth of day while feasting upon hooliganism and debauchery in the dead of night ¡­ !


    The do-gooders of the world ¡­ the altruists of every bar and tavern!


    They who espoused the fundamentals of neutrality while sat with their heels upon the tables of emperors and kings! And yet here one was! A veritable representative of the guild, shattering the very treaties which my own ancestors had snacked and snoozed through during its arduous creation!


    Why ¡­ these goblins didn¡¯t need to do anything!


    Sooner or later, word would escape!


    Rather, it¡¯s almost certain it already had, and somewhere beneath a frozen peak, a coven of goblin matriarchs was discussing how best to shape their outrage!


    The consequences ¡­ it would be devastating.


    Oho ¡­


    Ohoho ¡­ ohoho ¡­


    Ohhohoohhohooohoho ¡­ !!!


    Why, it was simply too good!


    The guild ¡­ this fool ¡­ these ¡­ these walking algae with the wit of a leaking sponge! It was beautiful!


    In the end, it wasn¡¯t the spinning web of a thousand schemes which I needed! It wasn¡¯t the minotaur¡¯s labyrinth of algebra twisting and turning in the depths of my mind! It wasn¡¯t the mental notes I made Coppelia keep, none of which I now remembered!


    It was only hubris.


    The Adventurer¡¯s Guild ¡­ they had doomed themselves!


    They were the wealthy uncle strolling upon the cliff edge. And all I had to do was give a little poke.


    ¡°... Ohoho ¡­ ohohoho ¡­ ohhohohohohohohohoho!!¡±


    ¡°Uh ¡­ is she possessed as well?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ but it¡¯ll pass! ¡­ Got any moss cakes?¡±

 Ouzelia Story Stub Reminder!

    </a>


    Hi there!


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Elise is heading over to the wide world of eBooks</a>! If you haven''t read A Part-Time Heroine''s Guide To Dragonslaying</a> (The Ouzelia Story), be sure to do so before the 27th when it will hop over to Kindle. The story is only 20 chapters long, so you can easily read all of it in one cozy winter sitting!


    Thank you for reading and supporting Elise! There will be more of her perfectly normal heroine shenanigans to come.

 Chapter 328: Mandatory Safety

    There was little about an adventurer requisitioning an unfortunate tribe of goblins which made sense.


    But then little about adventurers made sense, anyway. And I was hardly one to spurn my gifts. Not unless they were under a strictly defined value.


    And an adventurer indulging in insanity?


    Why ¡­ that was simply priceless.


    A cause for my gentle smile, then. A treasure rarer than even an adventurer¡¯s attempt at self-destruction. Yet far from the wildflowers blossoming to my coming, they only wilted. And not just because they were trying to hide from Coppelia¡¯s lack of standards.


    Here in the forested slopes overlooking Marinsgarde, the quiet meadows and streams I¡¯d glanced from my carriage windows between my short 9 hour naps were no more.


    Bam, bam, bam, bam.


    Shwick, shwick, shwick.


    Pon, pon, pon.


    Instead ¡­ there was noise.


    Lots of noise. And mud. And cracked soil where there wasn¡¯t.


    To my horror, the forested slope was now simply a slope.


    The dandelions and daisies which should have fought for my attention were lost somewhere amidst the upturned soil. Of the streams, nothing could be seen but the beds of pebbles underneath, the speed at which they¡¯d been drained leaving nothing but a few confused toads to play hopscotch amidst the blaring sunlight.


    I envied them.


    Their hearing was more forgiving than mine.


    Even so, the desecration of my kingdom didn¡¯t simply stop at the veritable quarry that had appeared overlooking my town. That was only the beginning.


    The end was whatever these goblins were making.


    Pon, pon, pon.


    I gawped at the sight.


    Hammers. Woodsaws. Pickaxes.


    What they weren¡¯t smashing, they were cutting, and what they weren¡¯t smashing or cutting, they were prying in order to do just that.


    The cycle of violence. And the victim was anything which wasn¡¯t the correct shade of dirt.


    All around me, I saw halved tree logs being used as carpentry tables.


    Anything that was malleable was being redesigned. Everything else was being hit until it was. I saw boulders being mashed as easily as agrumes et persillade in a mortar and pestle, while the trees which weren¡¯t sturdy enough to serve as tables were being made into smaller furniture instead.


    I rubbed my eyes, as much to remove dust as this vision of calamity.


    All it did was rub further regret into my irises.


    The goblin had assured us that the errant adventurer was but a stone¡¯s throw from the town. Yet I never could have imagined that the distance had been literally measured.


    Everywhere I looked, pebbles were piled up in carts ready to be hauled away.


    The destination was clear.


    Past the tables and huddling goblins with pickaxes and hammers was Marinsgarde¡¯s latest landmark. A feat of engineering which even while unconstructed was guaranteed to leave a mark long in the memories of every princess unfortunate enough to be imprisoned there.


    After all¨C


    It was the shoddiest castle I¡¯d ever seen.


    My mouth opened wide.


    I regretted it at once, coughing as the construction of an illegal castle sent dust billowing in every direction. Even so, I still peeked above my palm, hoping against hope that I was wrong.


    I wasn¡¯t.


    Indeed ¡­ there could be no mistake.


    Amidst the drying mud and freshly pilfered stones of my kingdom, the fa?ade of something almost familiar could be seen. There were hints of parapets, the makings of an archway, the foundations of a keep.


    But most of all, there was a sign.


    Harten Castle


    Under Construction


    ATTENTION VISITORS & STAFF:


    Helmets Must Be Worn At All Times!


    I raised my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°W-What am I looking at ¡­ ?!¡±


    My answer came in the form of an unhelpful giggle. Coppelia rose on her tip-toes, hands to her brows as she leaned forwards.


    ¡°Hmmmm~ if I had to guess, I¡¯d say this looks like a mountain of gold.¡±


    ¡°... Please tell me you¡¯re referring to a mountain behind the wonky castle.¡±


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m talking about the wonky castle. After all¨Ctourism.¡±


    I was appalled. And yet I was also relieved.


    Somehow, I¡¯d evaded this particular sightseeing package while in Ouzelia.


    ¡°Coppelia, this is hardly some necromancer¡¯s lair offering a tour of the ghoul tubes. At least that¡¯s inoffensive. This is the most ugly thing my mind has yet to forget. Why, just look at it! It¡¯s clearly built in the fashion of a castle, yet with neither the material nor the expertise to see it through. How dare goblins treat such a famed monument so frivolously!¡±


    ¡°I mean, isn¡¯t imitation the best form of flattery?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t flattery. It¡¯s sabotage. Why, its very presence devalues the land! Once this is built, tourists from Reitzlake will see it from afar and head north to be fleeced in Lissoine instead.¡±


    ¡°You underestimate humans. Humans love new things. Especially if they¡¯re wonky. I bet everyone would come to see a unique castle.¡±


    ¡°My kingdom already has a unique castle. It¡¯s damp, oversized, poorly insulated and filled with drafts even in the height of summer. The very picture of a regal castle. This ¡­ This would have visitors shivering before they even reached their beds!¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that great, then? Now you have two damp castles!¡±


    I shook my head at once.


    ¡°My family doesn¡¯t do competition. We do iron gripped monopoly. One which this thing surely threatens. If goblins are building one castle in my kingdom, then they¡¯ll build another ¡­ and another. That isn¡¯t a cultural exchange. It¡¯s the beginning of another Troll Country.¡±


    I shuddered.


    Indeed, it¡¯s one thing for goblins to evade border taxes by tunnelling wherever they pleased. It¡¯s quite another if they chose long term residency without the proper bribes to my officials.


    This was a diplomatic scandal.


    While I¡¯ve no doubt my local nobility fancied the pilferings being exchanged for rags in Marinsgarde, all of which they incorrectly viewed as tax free, it hardly extended to this. Whatever cultural exchange all hoped to profit from at the Royal Treasury''s expense, it ended now.


    Everyone had overstepped their bounds ¡­ this adventurer most of all.


    I looked at the sign and frowned.


    ¡°What was the name mentioned by the goblin?¡±


    ¡°Liliane Harten. My worthless knowledge of humans I¡¯m still trying to remove is that she¡¯s an A-rank adventurer.¡±


    I sympathised with Coppelia.


    Even so, it was useful to confirm this adventurer¡¯s identity. If an A-rank adventurer was truly at play here, then it meant I had no room to tarry.


    ¡°I was amiss, Coppelia. This is not merely an adventurer¡¯s idiocy gone to new heights. It¡¯s the start of something more sinister. More foreboding. This person is willing to live in a castle of mud. I was clearly too lax. There¡¯s no predicting what one with so little standards may do next.¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ once you start getting underlings to build a lair, then that means there¡¯s a business plan as well. Next thing you know, someone¡¯s trying to take over the kingdom because it¡¯s point 7a in the Evil Guidebook.¡±


    ¡°Not this kingdom. I refuse to accept it. Liches, princes and nobility, yes. But an adventurer? Why, that fails the prerequisite requirements for having such lofty ambitions.¡±


    Indeed, this woman would first need to retire.


    Something I was more than willing to arrange.


    ¡°... Come, Coppelia! Even madness has its limits. Whatever drives this adventurer doesn¡¯t excuse the horror we now see. This has to be stopped. Before all of Marinsgarde¡¯s tourism industry suffers more for it.¡±


    ¡°Okie~¡±


    Thus, I swept past the sign and made my way towards the house of horrors.


    Within moments, the true scale of the danger before me was made clear. Each step into this freshly made wasteland caused the blood to drain from my face until even vampires would nod at my coming.


    Far from lacking the correct fabric or the exact gleam of varnish, the tables, chairs, cabinets and shelves being constructed weren¡¯t even sanded down. Splinters, blemishes and wood grain crossing in every direction stabbed at my soul more than any magic ever could.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    A dire display. And so as I stopped in front of the only goblin I needed, it was with my arms crossed and frown at the ready.


    Depending on what excuse I¡¯d ignore, my scowl was soon to follow.


    For a moment, the goblin made no reaction. He waited in blissful hope that I¡¯d leave to harangue someone else. I didn¡¯t. He was the one in charge.


    After all ¡­ he was the only one with a clipboard.


    The goblin stared at the notes. Only when it was clear I wasn¡¯t leaving and my looming shadow made pretending to read too difficult did he finally look up.


    ¡°... Can I help you?¡± asked the goblin, tilting his helmet so he could reveal his raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Yes, you can help stop my eyes from burning.¡± I gestured to the side. ¡°What is that?¡±


    The goblin duly looked ¡­ then turned his head slightly, as though in search of another amalgamation of mud, stone and sadness.


    ¡°That¡¯s Harten Castle,¡± he said, his brows furrowing towards me. ¡°There¡¯s a sign.¡±


    ¡°I know there¡¯s a sign. And I also know that¡¯s not a castle. Are those battlements or an impression of a giant¡¯s teeth? Why is not a single surface smoothed out? Who do you hope to instil fear in? Garden slugs who can no longer nimbly slide their way to an orchard on the other side? If so, I must congratulate you. The aesthetics are tragic enough that even my apple trees would be safe. No critter would risk public embarrassment by visiting.¡±


    A wrinkled nose born purely of indignation met me.


    ¡°This castle was designed for practicality. Not aesthetics.¡±


    ¡°It is wobbly.¡±


    ¡°It is cost effective. It won¡¯t win the Mitzer Architectural Award, but it¡¯ll win sieges.¡±


    A loose pebble dropped from the archway posing as a gate. It splatted into the mud, drawing a groan from a builder who now had another layer of mud to not clean.


    I promptly leaned towards the goblin in front of me.


    ¡°Refer to my last sentence.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s not perfectly straight,¡± he said dismissively. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t need to be. Nobody is dancing behind those walls. Just shooting arrows. It doesn¡¯t look like much, but it¡¯s solid. The castle is built into the slope of a mountain. And the less time we spend on appearances, the more we can spend on exploiting the natural defences with additional layers of walls.¡±


    ¡°And who, exactly, is this ¡­ castle meant to defend against? The sewing houses of Marinsgarde? Because if you¡¯ve done anything to earn the ire of seamstresses, I¡¯m afraid that no amount of walls can defend you from their wrath. Their needles will accidentally find a way to poke you no matter how still you stand.¡±


    The goblin shrugged.


    ¡°Not my place to speculate. Only to build. And this castle was built to be functional. Eventually.¡±


    Ugh.


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my groan. The goblin certainly wouldn¡¯t if I tried digging a tunnel.


    ¡°Castles are not functional,¡± I promptly told him. ¡°If a siege is already occurring, then it¡¯s already too late. All the loyalists have bravely perished and all that¡¯s left is for those inside to escape with their arms laden with portraits and pockets spilling with gold. A castle at that point is merely decoration.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re suggesting we build our walls further out, I take it?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m suggesting you build things for their express purpose. And the purpose of a castle is to be a vanity project.¡± I counted with my fingers. ¡°A castle must be beautiful. It must be wasteful. It must have more fireplaces than staff and still fail to warm a snowman. It must be an overly elaborate gold sink with a sprawling dungeon littered with lethal traps underneath. Do you have that?¡±


    ¡°We have a trapped dungeon,¡± replied the goblin at once.


    ¡°... Is it underneath?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Why should it be? Nobody will go there. My dungeon is the first thing intruders will see. It¡¯s guaranteed to immediately stop them. No funny business.¡±


    My mouth widened in horror.


    ¡°Excuse me? ¡­ Are you saying you built a dungeon as the reception?¡±


    The goblin raised his arms, gesturing all around us.


    ¡°Here is the reception. Why build one when meeting outside is perfectly fine?¡±


    My hands covered my mouth.


    Why, to think that beyond the fa?ade of mud and stone, only greater insults to civility could be found! As a means for warding away princesses with standards, I couldn¡¯t deny it was brutally effective.


    But for everyone else?


    Why, it was absolutely shoddy!


    ¡°You¨Cwhat is your name?¡±


    ¡°Fozz. I¡¯m the foreman.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I see you¡¯ve a talent for upending soil. But that hardly translates into shaping castles. So when the locust horde of nobility hears that you can build an inexpensive castle and begins pushing each other into wells for your time, know this¨Cthe strength of a castle¡¯s walls lies not in its ability to withstand catapults, but insults.¡±


    I gestured towards the sorry sight, intending to put this right before every baron¡¯s nephew with an inheritance came to seek this goblin out.


    ¡°This is not a goblin cave, where fruit slimes will enter with abandon. Only the wealthy and the powerful may enter a castle. And the sight of a trapped dungeon as the reception will do nothing more than usher forth the treason they will fail to stand against.¡±


    The goblin was clearly unconvinced.


    ¡°There are a lot of traps,¡± he said simply.


    ¡°Each a reason to sniff fear. That¡¯s the death knell to any happy castle owner. No, it¡¯s not spikes and acid arrows you need. It¡¯s beauty. Just as a maiden may win a war, so too can carpets so luxurious that everybody pretends to know what material they¡¯re made from. A castle designed for a siege will certainly be sieged. You must therefore build yours to disregard enemies, not acknowledge them. Ergo, you must choose style over substance.¡±


    The goblin stroked a beard which didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°That ¡­ is a very human approach. And illogical. But I can¡¯t say I¡¯m not intrigued. It¡¯s true that goblins don¡¯t bother with aesthetics. We leave that to dwarves. But maybe I¡¯ll take a pebble out of your books just this once.¡±


    ¡°I highly suggest it. I guarantee there will be less intruders for both of us to pretend never existed if they thought that a goblin emperor lived in your caves.¡±


    ¡°Will that not just simply result in stronger assailants?¡±


    ¡°No, because stronger assailants will be smarter assailants. Sometimes. Maybe.¡±


    A ponderous nod was my answer, followed by a curious hum.


    ¡°... Well, I won¡¯t promise anything. But I¡¯ll at least take your advice into consideration. We¡¯re still early in the construction phase, so maybe there¡¯s a chance to revise the blueprints.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful.¡± I offered an encouraging smile. ¡°I¡¯ll leave dismantling this to you, then. Now, I have an appointment with the owner of this illegal residence¨Cas does whichever part of the forest she ends up being punted to. I take it I simply walk inside?¡±


    I waited for the traditional cry of protest.


    Strangely, all I received was another goblin point. Except this time it was towards the direction I wished to take.


    ¡°Straight ahead. Through the archway. Follow the signs. Just don¡¯t walk into the lethal traps. And if you do, make sure it¡¯s not a spiked pit. Cleaning that will take half an hour¡¯s labour from my workforce.¡±


    I raised a brow.


    Impressive. A single-minded focus on just the task at hand. My staff could learn from such work ethics. Perhaps if they did, the moon I¡¯d requested when I was 5 years old would be in my room by now. I still had no idea where the servant I¡¯d sent to collect it was. Only that I¡¯d fire him when he returned, moon or no moon.


    Thus, I turned and made my way towards the mud hut.


    ¡°¨CWait.¡±


    Just before promptly sighing.


    So very close.


    ¡°... Yes? What is it? Rest assured, I do not mean to punt your employer far enough that she cannot pay you whatever she has promised. Especially if it must come from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild.¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not my problem.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see ¡­ what is it, then?¡±


    The goblin held up a bucket. I duly blinked at it.


    ¡°Is ... Is this a formal goblin request for a duel?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s me telling you there¡¯s a sign. You need to wear a helmet.¡±


    Once again, the goblin raised a bucket.


    Just a bucket.


    I stared at it.


    And then¨C


    ¡°O-Oho ¡­ ? Ohohho ¡­ ohohohohoho!! ¡­ Ohohohohoho!!¡±


    Before I knew it, I was wiping a tear from the corner of my eyes.


    My tummy cramped with the pain of my sudden amusement. It took all the willpower I had to force my quaking knees to stand firm in the face of the greatest danger my attire had ever seen.


    The dried mud and cracked earth beckoning me to fall.


    ¡°Ohoho ¡­ oho ¡­ v-very ¡­ very well ¡­ my congratulations, Sir Goblin ¡­ truly, you almost felled me where none have so far. That was quite some jest.¡±


    The goblin raised a brow.


    ¡°I am being serious.¡±


    ¡°So is my laughter. I cannot wear that. It¡¯s a bucket.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a perfectly serviceable safety tool. And it fits.¡±


    ¡°The only things that fit on my head are tiaras, roses and pillows when I¡¯m trying to drown out the noise of scuttling in the ceiling. I¡¯m not wearing a bucket.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you want to challenge the boss, you will. What business you have with her isn¡¯t my concern. But this is my construction site and rules and rules.¡±


    A handful of passing goblins paused to nod. They tapped their helmets in approval.


    Actual helmets, form fitting and not simply a leftover container emptied of cattle feed.


    ¡°... Really?¡± I said, utterly exasperated. ¡°This is where you draw the line? Health and safety regulations? Do goblins wear helmets while fighting dwarves in bloody melee beneath the ground?¡±


    ¡°No, which is why their accident rates are much higher than mine.¡± The goblin foreman raised himself, shoulders and back stiffening. ¡°I pride myself on my excellent statistics. That¡¯s why I was chosen for this role. Which is why you need a helmet if you want to walk to continue. There¡¯s a risk of falling debris.¡±


    ¡°What about the lethal traps? Why do I not need to wear a suit of enchanted full plate armour?¡±


    ¡°Because there¡¯s no sign saying you do.¡±


    My face met my palms.


    ¡°... Fine. Thank you for your concern. However, please rest assured, I¡¯m already fully protected.¡±


    ¡°By what?¡±


    ¡°My multi-purpose debris repellant tool.¡±


    I pointed to my sword. The goblin gazed at it.


    Then, he held out the bucket.


    ¡°No,¡± I said instantly. ¡°This will murder my hair more than any falling rocks ever could.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, I¡¯m just doing my job.¡±


    The goblin¡¯s shoulders drooped half an inch. A fatigue that had little to do with the turmoil of building the continent¡¯s worst castle suddenly showed up as aged lines upon his face.


    I rolled my eyes and sighed.


    A moment later, I accepted the outstretched bucket.


    ¡°... This will do, yes?¡± I said, raising the bucket high over my head without touching anything.


    The goblin nodded. He didn¡¯t smile, but he at least looked relieved.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, gesturing amicably ahead. ¡°You¡¯ll want to follow the signs. Please note that the traps are impossible for non-goblins, rangers, thieves or specialised mages to detect, but if you¡¯re extremely lucky, you might survive with only major traumatic injuries. Hope you don¡¯t mind the helmet. I know it¡¯s an inconvenience, but safety first.¡±


    There were so many things I wanted to say.


    None of them helpful in allowing me to magically appear in my bedroom, duvet over my head and face squashed into my pillow until a maid needed to ensure I was still breathing.


    ¡°Of course. Safety first. I understand.¡±


    Thus, I swept around ¡­ only to find an altogether different type of goblin now standing before me.


    A redcap.


    Distinguishable by the, yes, red cap he wore, he shared many of the physical characteristics of his goblin cousins. But not all of them. Because unlike the dark eyes of the goblins around me, his eyes glowed as crimson as the cap he wore.


    And also the blood from his two cleavers.


    A curious sight.


    All the more so since he wasn¡¯t the only one.


    Peeking up from the wonky battlements, redcaps in their tens, twenties, thirties and more appeared to silhouette themselves against the bright sky. They were the happy ones. The unhappy ones simply rose like moles from the ground, allowing the soil beneath them to rest at last.


    The redcap before me raised a cleaver in either hand.


    A matching pair of finely crafted butchery tools which he¡¯d seemingly forgotten to wash after the last herd he¡¯d single-handedly culled. A somewhat alarming sight. But nothing I needed to dawdle over.


    I went to step around him.


    The redcap mirrored me, blocking my path. I walked to the other side. He did the same.


    Thus¨CI proceeded to turn to the goblin foreman once again.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°My apologies, but your colleague appears to be preventing access. Could you please request that he move?¡±


    The goblin foreman glanced to the side. He shook his head.


    ¡°Can¡¯t, sorry.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Not my department. I¡¯m only in charge of construction.¡±


    ¡°What department are the redcaps, then?¡±


    ¡°Murdering intruders.¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    A moment later, I turned to look at the gathering flock of sadistic and clinically insane redcaps.


    I considered their vast numbers, their arsenal of needlessly bloodied weapons and their lack of understanding regarding the fundamentals of chivalry.


    And then¨C


    I leaned forwards and plonked my bucket over the head of the one in front of me.


    ¡°Safety first.¡±

 Chapter 329: Colour Coordination

    As a princess, I was no stranger to being chased by the masses.


    Whether it was the maids who brushed my hair, the maids who put on my clothes or the maids who picked up the socks which didn¡¯t exist as I walked to the bathroom, unwanted adoration was a fact of life.


    It mattered little whether I was in my favoured black dress or masterfully incognito. My regal aura pervaded all.


    If it wasn¡¯t the 2nd sons inviting themselves to my designated scowling zone in a soir¨¦e, it was the merchants camped outside town gates who incorrectly assumed that because my pouch was bottomless, my generosity was as well.


    However, while boundaries were often viewed as guidelines rather than the official laws inscribed in my dreams that they were, few crowds ever breached decorum enough to send me fleeing.


    This, though¨C


    ¡°Kekekekekekekekekeke~¡±


    This was very much a low point for common etiquette.


    Behind me, the corridor of a highly makeshift castle was shaking.


    Horrifying when a single poodle decided to play catch with the fruit bowls masterfully painted in my portraits. But even more so when the cause was a stampede of demented serial killers.


    Redcaps.


    Like most innocent maidens, my only experience with these diminutive murderers were from tales told by the daughters trespassing upon my mandatory tea table. Between my bouts of wakeful unconsciousness, I would catch excited snatches of conversation as brief as the sightings they claimed to enjoy.


    Redcaps, after all, were nothing if not useful as a ready-made source of villainy and bedtime tales.


    When the threat of marrying into a lesser house was too grim a punishment for those below the age of 10, these fun-sized lunatics were a useful spectre instead, their sneers and crooked nails ready to steal away any young maiden who didn¡¯t have dragons to fear instead.


    Officially the cousins of goblins and even more officially a type of pixie, they were magic shaped into sadism and insanity. Summoned either by a complex blood ritual or by snacking past midnight, redcaps were favoured as both the monster in the closet and the darkness below the bed.


    After all, while they surely existed, no princess was likely to encounter one while safe within the confines of her tower.


    A problem, then.


    The closest thing I had to a tower was a shoddy castle where the inside was officially worse than the outside.


    A feat which deserved its own accolade.


    As I judged the corridors of falling pebbles and cracked mud, it was to an accompaniment of far too many footsteps behind me. Their boots tested the walls more than any siege could, joined by the frantic swishing of their cleavers and the shrill cry of their laughter managing to shake the very air.


    This was unfortunate.


    For the redcaps, that is.


    Boooooooooomph!


    A crudely drawn rune stuck to the ground exploded. As did those around it.


    The result was clear even without glancing behind. Manic laughter and giddy delirium fought against the sound of redcaps disintegrating into whatever morbid magic held them together. And then they vanished, replaced by a chorus of thunder as a tinge of blue lit up the infinite crevasses around us.


    After all¨C


    The walls might be falling apart. But the traps they hid weren¡¯t.


    Within halls already boasting the appearance of well touristed ruins, I was greeted by the sound of ceaseless cranks and snaps as tiles lowered, strings were snapped and gongs were ominously smashed in the distance.


    Death and rust were slow to answer, but answer they did.


    Multiple pairs of giant hacksaws passed one another like broken scissors.


    Volleys of darts from tiny holes peppering the walls whisked through the air while leaving poison trailing in their wake.


    A gauntlet of flames swept up from protrusions in the ground, showering their own devices with a carpet of molten shards.


    Clouds of violet fumes hungrily lapped at the air, bristling with the floating visages of literal skulls.


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    All the while ¡­ I used my delicate foot tapping technique to carefully discern the lethal traps before me.


    Pwoooooooooooooooooosh.


    Yes.


    Even if delicate foot tapping meant the traps triggering as I skipped without pause, ignoring the hacksaws, flames, darts and toxic clouds erupting behind me like all the colours of the rainbow.


    ¡°Hup ¡­ hup ¡­ hup.¡±


    I dared to peek behind me.


    Within the corridor, carnage abounded.


    A gruesome display of goblin engineering. Little of which the pursuing redcaps cared about.


    Their joy was in the challenge of leaping off the disembodied backs of their peers as they swung their cleavers towards me. Off went their bright little hats as they were sliced, burned, and smothered, leaving only their echoing laughter behind.


    I had not a word of admonishment.


    This was the exact sort of effort I expected from my foes. And if all of them committed to brutally murdering me with a cleaver instead of languishing with unworkable plots, perhaps Soap Island wouldn¡¯t soon be needing actual accommodation instead of whatever open sky they indulged in.


    ¡°Oooh~¡±


    Beside me, Coppelia briefly paused in her own skipping to glance at the destruction as well.


    Her bright eyes lit up further at the literal bonfire of magic and flames¨Cjust before she dipped her head beneath a swinging guillotine. Even so, she had enough time to break into applause as a cloud in the shape of a walrus burst forth to a shower of sparkles and floating hats now shorn of their owners.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°9/10~¡± she said cheerily. ¡°We get a free zoo trip with our trapped corridor! That¡¯s attention to detail.¡±


    I was aghast.


    As I saw the beginnings of a dozen spikes releasing from their crevasse, it was all I could do to shake my head while watching them impale the air where my face had just been.


    ¡°C-Coppelia! ¡­ We¡¯re being chased by a literal horde of homicidal lunatics whose bloodlust won¡¯t allow them to cease even when literal fire is in front of them. This is hardly the time for idleness!¡±


    ¡°... So the sasquatch was your favourite?¡±


    ¡°The alpaca,¡± I admitted. ¡°I would give that toxic cloud shape a generous 7/10 ¡­ maybe 8/10. But not because I think they¡¯re somewhat endearing. It¡¯s simply that their wool is often of a higher quality than their sheep counterpart. It¡¯s softer and less fibrous.¡±


    ¡°Alpacas are cute, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    I bit my lips.


    ¡°They ¡­ They just look so silly, Coppelia. And fluffy.¡±


    Coppelia giggled ¡­ all the while, a pyre of redcaps melted behind us to a ceaseless trove of goblin traps.


    Frankly, I was almost impressed.


    Almost.


    The boasts of the goblin foreman weren¡¯t quite justified. But few were in the competitive world of trapped corridors. Acknowledgement was due, however, for the fact that a hodgepot castle was able to feature modern designs in anti-intruder mechanisms.


    That meant colour coordination.


    It was as chaotic as a witch¡¯s favourite concoction, yes ¡­ but unlike a paint palette, the colours of flame, magic and alchemy when mixed were wildly unpredictable. Even if unintentional, I was glad for the opportunity to test the effects before knowing which I would suggest to my stewards.


    True, I didn¡¯t quite hope to admire this while activating every trap simultaneously ¡­ but that¡¯s fine!


    When it came to princesses refusing to die to a bloodthirsty horde who didn¡¯t have the courtesy to wipe off the blood from their previous victim, nothing could match my skipping!


    Especially when the eager killers themselves were their own worst obstacle.


    Any time a redcap threatened to escape the cacophony of destruction, a hand from the horde would purposefully drag them back in.


    To the worthy goes the spoils. Or in this case, the one least betrayed by their own.


    ¡°You know,¡± said Coppelia as she watched a bolt of acid zip past her nose. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that somewhere, a goblin is watching this with a glum face. Traps probably shouldn¡¯t be murdering the guys chasing after us.¡±


    ¡°The glum face can be reversed, then. They¡¯re by far the best things about this slapdash castle.¡±


    ¡°Oooh ¡­ that sounds like a hidden compliment.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s simply less of an insult.¡± I ducked as a twirling orb of ice shattered itself into the opposing wall, leaving a scorch as black as flames behind. ¡°But while they¡¯re not effective in catching princesses, I concede they¡¯ve value elsewhere. I¡¯ve even a mind to consider some of these combinations for the Royal Villa¡¯s own dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Gasp. You wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I know. But hear me out. After they trigger, any surviving burglars would be left alone with only horror as their peers are turned into clashing shades of a rainbow. Their cries will reverberate upstairs for all the guests to hear. Our standing would only increase.¡±


    Coppelia nodded as she pretended to listen, focusing instead on avoiding the pouring cauldron of molten acid someone else mysteriously triggered.


    I was delighted. Her handmaiden¡¯s training was progressing marvellously.


    ¡°Hmm ¡­ out of curiosity, do you ever actually keep people in your dungeon?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I blinked in shock. ¡°Of course not. That¡¯s barbaric.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. What do you do with the constant burglars, then?¡±


    ¡°The same thing we do with our drunken guests. We direct them to a sign mistakenly pointing to Clarise¡¯s test chamber as the wine cellar. We¡¯d never place them in the dungeon. The smell from their vomit would waft upwards.¡±


    Coppelia hummed.


    It was barely heard above the sound of arcing lightning striking the wall next to her, rebounding several times before lunging into the carnage behind.


    ¡°In that case, why have a dungeon if you can¡¯t toss someone there only to needlessly taunt them before they escape 30 minutes later?¡±


    ¡°Because imprisonment isn¡¯t its purpose. Our dungeon serves as the default location for secret rendezvouses when our guests conspire in our home. Half the treason attempts we discover are due to them sneaking out of their rooms in the dead of night to loudly whisper in the dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Ehhh ¡­ why not just conspire in their rooms?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be far too sensible. A trait those who indulge in conspiracy are not known to have. And while all dream of treason, so few ever get the chance¨Cespecially within the abode of the same royalty they hope to usurp. Of course they¡¯d play the game of cloak and daggers. It¡¯s fine entertainment. There even used to be an acoustic tube leading directly to our dining chamber, just so we could listen while eating gelato. Sadly, it¡¯s gone now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, was it discovered?¡±


    ¡°No, we had to remove it when Father almost died choking from laughter on a pine nut.¡±


    Coppelia only blinked.


    That was good. There was a law against laughing at that incident.


    Fortunately, there was none against laughing at the failings of a mage whose summoned underlings were now indistinct colours in the backdrop.


    As the corridor came to an end, so too did the array of goblin traps. No more spears, saws, darts or haphazard swipes of magic tried to whisk us into the mud.


    Sensing a reprieve, I stopped and turned to admire the handiwork behind me.


    All I saw was a smouldering wreckage.


    Dust, embers and toxic clouds floating like oddly coloured marshmallows were all that remained of the murderous, if relentlessly jolly horde.


    Here and there, a few traces of their shining cleavers could be seen sizzling on the ground. The bloodied residues of whatever sadistic magic bound them. They disintegrated a moment later, their memory erased like shortcake crumbs swept by a maid¡¯s broom.


    I duly nodded.


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


    ¡°Ohohohohohoho!! ¡­ I see that hiring is a skill that adventurers have yet to achieve. A shame. If it was a plague of giant badgers that was called upon, I would have conceded defeat on the spot.¡±


    Coppelia stretched upwards as a single piece of red fabric came floating towards her.


    The only remnant of the tiny horde, complete with a few splotches of dried blood which most certainly weren¡¯t from the wearer. She caught it, carefully eyed the blood, then stuffed it into her pouch.


    ¡°I bet I can trade this with a suspicious forest witch,¡± she said enthusiastically.


    I only smiled in response.


    Where she¡¯d find a suspicious forest witch and what sort of things she¡¯d hope to barter in exchange, I had no idea. And as long as I only smiled, I would continue to have no idea.


    ¡°Excellent. Because I hope to never flee from redcaps again. Of all the ways to die, being murdered for the sake of it lacks any of the unwarranted resentment I demand. Come, let¡¯s see if our errant adventurer does any better.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty!~¡±


    Satisfied by our entrance, I duly turned towards the corridor¡¯s end.


    Here, neither a wonky door nor a crumbling archway awaited our judging.


    It was instead something far more practical. A wide gap bordered by jagged rock and patches of grass still clinging onto soil as the castle itself abruptly ended. The hole led into the mountainside. And also the caves beyond.


    Goblin caves.


    A place less appropriate for me than the common inns I slept in. And not only because of the promise of narrow tunnels, damp earth and ceaseless mud.


    ¡°Uuuunnnnnnngghhhhhh.¡±


    Rather ¡­ it was because of that.


    A pained, guttural groan. An echoing cry so wreathed in agony and despair that ghouls freshly plucked from their graves had less cause for complaint.


    I raised my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°What manner of horrific undead is that?¡±


    ¡°It might be a zombie with a stomach ache. That happens if you eat the wrong kind of moss cake.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope they quietly recover in a corner, then! Traversing a goblin cave is quite punishing enough. Let¡¯s be swift about this. And if you see any undead with stomach aches, ignore them. With luck and my angelic aura, they¡¯ll ignore us as well.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anybody in recorded history has ever tried that.¡±


    Coppelia giggled. I hardly saw why.


    Whatever this wayward adventurer hoped to achieve, I would do better.


    I was a princess, and I was nothing if not excellent at setting precedents. Willingly, if not quite enthusiastically, entering a goblin cave would be one of them.


    But leaving with a gentle and wholly satisfied smile?


    ¡­ Why, that was quite another.

 Chapter 330: The Next Rung

    Caban Oxwell didn¡¯t fancy himself the best adventurer around.


    Especially since his master didn¡¯t. More than once, he¡¯d suggested taking up a job behind his bar instead of waving a sword at all the things which wanted to eat him in a cave.


    And maybe in another life, Caban would have accepted.


    But most masters weren¡¯t Thomas Lainsfont. And most hadn¡¯t made the mistake of personally patting him on the shoulder.


    That was all Caban needed.


    He didn¡¯t actually remember what Thomas said to him that day. And Thomas definitely couldn¡¯t remember what was said back.


    In fact, he couldn¡¯t remember anything about Caban at all.


    Which was normal.


    He was just another boy in another village, rescued from another burning field of certain doom.


    Except that while most village boys would pick up a wooden sword and see their vows to follow in their saviour¡¯s footsteps end with the first fruit slime which headbutted them back, Caban persevered.


    ¡­ Eventually.


    It wasn¡¯t easy. Especially not for his unsuspecting master.


    Thomas had barely decided to retire before Caban showed up at his bar, worldly possessions on his back and a very unsubtle look of hope on his face.


    The disappointment that Caban wasn¡¯t there as a customer was greater than all the grief he gave him from that moment onwards. Not because Caban was a terrible student. But rather, as fate would have it, Caban proved even better at pouring drinks.


    A Granholtz Sunrise with a Clocktower.


    That was his specialty.


    Nobody knew what the clocktower was until they ordered it, but once they saw the ice cubes towering over their drinks like a keep above its walls, all were hooked.


    Even his master, and he hardly drank at all.


    The day Caban decided to officially register with the guild was the only day he saw Thomas Lainsfont with a look of defeat. It was the rarest triumph for the village boy from Avinbelle, and he knew he had to take his victory all the way onto the next rung.


    The Oldest Ladder was there to be climbed, after all.


    That¡¯s why¨C


    ¡°Here you go, buddy. A Goblin Surprise. On the house.¡±


    Sitting on his makeshift bar counter, an orange, black and white calico sniffed at the bowl of milk on offer. The cat was right to be suspicious. It was supposedly sheep¡¯s milk. But Caban hadn¡¯t tried.


    All he knew was that the goblins liked it more.


    Recently saved by pure virtue of accidentally wandering into his neck of the woods, Pepper now only awaited his proper return to his owner.


    Sadly for him and the nice girl still anxiously waiting, the reunion had to wait.


    After all, these weren¡¯t the great outdoors they were in.


    These were caves. And while they were both here, Pepper needed to share Caban¡¯s hospitality with the goblins. All of them, in fact. He was very popular. And why not?


    He served the drinks.


    Sticky tables. Stools which were both too tall and too short. Kegs filled with mystery liquid. Even a bubbling cauldron which would have been better if it was just the fire underneath.


    Here in the cozy corner of his own cave, the young, talented prodigy of Thomas Lainsfont fulfilled the destiny which would have made his mentor nod in satisfaction. At least until it was realised this wasn¡¯t The Singing Mule being tended to, but Caban¡¯s very own establishment. And it was more popular.


    As a result ¡­ he¡¯d chosen the name carefully:


    ¡®Caban¡¯s Prison¨CSend Help¡¯.


    There was even a sign.


    None of those present bothered to look.


    Instead, a healthy gathering of goblins and hobgoblins sat around their tables, looking indistinguishable from their adventuring counterparts as they traded jests, elbows and taunts in no particular order. But although little thought seemed to be given to the slapping and tossing of the cards they toyed with, Caban didn¡¯t need his adventurer¡¯s instincts to see that not a single eye was wayward.


    Nobody liked to lose.


    Not when it came to cards. And not when it came to drinking.


    The tankards were piled high. If the adventurers before him knew goblins could hold their liquor so well, the treaties never would¡¯ve been needed. All their differences could¡¯ve been solved with a well placed keg ¡­ over the course of maybe two minutes.


    Or just a handful of seconds, given his clientele tonight.


    ¡°Ah, Bogspit,¡± said Caban, cheerfully painting the picture of the model barkeeper by drying a tankard with a soggy wet cloth. ¡°How¡¯s the young¡¯un doing?¡±


    Before his counter, the newly arrived goblin shook his head.


    Caban offered a nod of sympathy.


    ¡°... Still haven¡¯t learned the concept of sleep, eh? I¡¯ve no experience in the matter, but I hear it¡¯s the same for all new fathers. You just need to tide it over until he¡¯s old enough to headbutt his friends instead of your sleep schedule. Then you¡¯ll have a different set of problems to deal with.¡±


    The goblin snorted.


    A moment later, he pointed towards the shelf behind his counter.


    Despite the number of drinks optimistically arranged, the goblins only ever asked for the same thing.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± said Caban with a flash of his easy smile. ¡°An Adventurer¡¯s Grog. The worst I can make it.¡±


    Bogspit accepted his filled tankard. He gave an approving sniff of the beverage. A concoction able to sweep seasoned buccaneers off their feet until they woke up on a different ship.


    He left to rejoin his fellow company a moment later.


    Bogspit was Caban¡¯s favourite. He was the most talkative.


    In fact, he found most goblins a talkative bunch once an attempt at niceties was made.


    Or so he liked to think. It was probably the grog.


    Unfortunately, even with its magical effects at enhancing social skills, there were some things even illegal amounts of alcohol couldn¡¯t manage to draw out.


    Snatches of conversation ¡­ was surprisingly one of them.


    Just not when the only other adventurer arrived.


    The noise was wiped clean like snow brushed from a window. Where there was chatter and an imminent brawl, there was now silence and apprehension.


    Liliane Harten, either unaware or unbothered, practically skipped her way towards the bar, the door into his little cave swinging loudly to a close behind her. She hummed as she smiled, and with a click of her finger, summoned a stool as easily as she did the magical weapons hovering by her side.


    The stool was still the wrong height.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Mr. Oxwell,¡± said Liliane, hands clasped together in earnestness. ¡°I know I promised to provide updates, but it¡¯s been hectic. You wouldn¡¯t believe it. I¡¯ve had Guildmaster Triniard, the Seamstress Guild, Lady Meryl and even the giant rats asking me about the goblins. I know, I know¨Cthat¡¯s no excuse. And it¡¯s not. Well, it is. But it isn¡¯t. But they¡¯ve all been in my ear and now I can¡¯t tell whose voice is whose. It¡¯s just words, words, words, words, words ¡­¡±


    Caban gave his usual, easy smile ¡­ all to hide his stare as he made sure it was her.


    ¡°... Is that right?¡± he said with a bartender¡¯s false chuckle. ¡°Rough days, huh?¡±


    ¡°Rougher than a Hobgoblin¡¯s Bounty. Do you know what that drink is?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± admitted Caban, curious despite himself. ¡°What is it?¡±


    The woman smiled. It sent a shiver through him.


    Liliane Harten.


    Truthfully, Caban knew little of her other than her rank.


    She was an A-rank adventurer. An acclaimed member of the guild. The same as his master. And yet when it came to fame, there was a world of difference between her and Thomas Lainsfont.


    It was no insult, though.


    After all, not all who climbed the Oldest Ladder did so by wrestling basilisks in a spilled pool of another basilisk¡¯s stomach acid. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild believed in merit. And only rarely was the importance of healers, druids and bards forgotten in the face of public displays of brawn.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    It was more unusual for a mage to be so little known, but not everyone capable of magic threw fireballs wherever they went. Because of that and more, Caban¡¯s first impression of her was of someone closed and guarded. But he¡¯d sensed no hostility from her.


    In fact, he still didn¡¯t.


    He just didn¡¯t know what he sensed now.


    She was a completely different person.


    Her auburn hair was loose and free. And while she was by no means old, she seemed to have lost a decade in age. The bright smile she gave as she reached over to make her own drink was no different to a town girl done with both her work and the hassling of men.


    She walked with a spring in her step. And as she mixed the only thing more powerful than an Adventurer¡¯s Grog, it confirmed to Caban what he¡¯d already known.


    She was utterly nuts.


    ¡°I heard about this from the hobgoblins,¡± said Liliane, enthusiastically sipping something which should rightfully see the last of her senses knocked out of her. ¡°It¡¯s awful. I like it. Drinking half will murder you. Drinking the other half will take your soul as well. I¡¯m thinking about putting it in a nice bottle for the next bureaucrat to ask me how long the goblins plan on taking up Marinsgarde¡¯s hospitality.¡±


    Caban smiled, as he only could do.


    ¡°Oh? And what did you say?¡±


    ¡°I said the truth, of course. Goblins do time differently than us. A day might be an hour and an hour might be a year. Goblins come and go depending on the coarseness of their toe hair. And you know what? They seemed shocked by that.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll admit that does sound a little vague on the timescale front.¡±


    ¡°Not to goblins. It¡¯s what they use to feel. They can sense the vibrations in the air. The changes in the mood. The coming of danger. A sixth sense. Except it¡¯s like a sixth toe. And that¡¯s what they use to fetch missing cats.¡±


    Beside them, Pepper looked up, unhappy at the suggestion that he didn¡¯t come to mooch entirely of his own accord.


    Liliane glanced at the calico. And for a moment, the sight of every F-rank adventurer¡¯s first quest allowed her eyes to glimmer with a fresh spark of life.


    Caban¡¯s back straightened, his hands gripping the edge of the counter in hope.


    It mattered for naught.


    The moment went, just as it always did, and so did Caban¡¯s hopes of a sudden epiphany.


    ¡°... Isn¡¯t it ungrateful?¡± she continued, with all the swagger of a drunkard 2 hours after they should have left. ¡°The goblins pile gold into the town. They fix the rooftops, the gutters and then sweep away with the rats under them as well. But the higher ups don¡¯t feel the slightest obligation to offer their thanks.¡±


    Caban glanced at the crown upon her head.


    So close, yet so far. At this distance, he could make out every dent and scratch. But more importantly, the hovering magical weapons could make out his fingers. They¡¯d be snipped if he offered anything more than another round.


    ¡°I¡¯d say so, yeah. The work you¡¯ve put into cleaning up the town sounds nothing short of saintly. It¡¯s a crime they don¡¯t treat you better, the guildmaster most of all.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve been saying.¡±


    ¡°In fact ¡­ I¡¯m ashamed to say it¡¯s taken me this long to see the truth of it. Adventurers work to improve the lives of common folk. We shouldn¡¯t let mannequins behind a desk tell us how it¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that, Mr. Oxwell. But I hope that¡¯s not the drinks speaking.¡±


    Caban gave a small chuckle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much possibility in that. I don¡¯t touch the stuff myself. You¡¯re all bigger fans of my work than I am. But for some reason, it¡¯s nothing compared to the cheap stuff at the guild. Why don¡¯t we both go back and we can down the bad stuff together while giving Guildmaster Triniard a piece of our minds?¡±


    Liliane simply nodded.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that. But not right now. I still want to convince you. And not just you. Everyone. And yes, I know this looks less than ideal. But your placement here is only temporary. Soon, your worst concerns will be alleviated. In fact, I hope for your sword to take part in what¡¯s to come. Once the expedition begins, I¡¯ll be delighted if you could join in.¡±


    ¡°The ¡­ uh, the what?¡±


    ¡°The chance for both of us to gain what we want.¡±


    All Caban could do was blink.


    ¡°Right, well, I¡¯ll be honest, I sort of just want to deliver Pepper back.¡±


    ¡°And you can. But you¡¯ll have to wait. The guild¨Cthey don¡¯t understand. Not yet. But they will. Because no matter how closed their mind is, they can¡¯t avoid the big picture if I spell it out for them in writing as large as the sky itself. They¡¯ll be ecstatic. More than enough to give you your B-rank trials. Naturally, I¡¯ll offer a recommendation as well.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Caban blinked, forgetting that was a thing.


    If Liliane had wanted a different response, she didn¡¯t show it. Instead, she downed the rest of her makeshift poison. Whatever effect it had on her, it probably only made her more sane.


    ¡°... I¡¯ll be returning shortly,¡± she said, leaving another tankard for him to clean. ¡°But if you can, I wanted to ask if you could make sure we¡¯ve enough Goblin Surprises on hand. I think we¡¯ll need as many as you can fit in this cave.¡±


    A stool promptly vanished.


    Just like that, Liliane turned away, ready to commit to whatever that crown encouraged her to do. At least until Caban raised his hand. He quickly lowered it when a small arsenal of weapons snapped unerringly towards him.


    ¡°Miss Harten¨Cwait, I¡¯ve just a question, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Of course. What is it?¡±


    ¡°¡­ lf we both want the same thing, does that mean you¡¯re trying to climb the ranks? Are you hoping for S-rank?¡±


    It almost seemed like a redundant question.


    Everyone wanted to climb the ranks. And to become S-rank was to become glory itself.


    But in truth, few wanted it enough to go through the hardships required to earn anything higher than C-rank. That alone meant they were already considered the talk of the village back home.


    But those who did ¡­ well.


    Caban wondered what they were willing to sell in exchange.


    His fears only became more real at the sudden silence.


    The unnatural smile didn¡¯t fade. But the eyes before him only became more distant, despite staring straight at him.


    ¡°... S-rank?¡± Liliane put a finger to her lips. ¡°That¡¯s a wonderful aspiration, isn¡¯t it? I should know. I¡¯ve known a few. But even the worthiness of S-rank is a matter of perspective. While it seems laudable from below, it seems so very poor from above.¡±


    ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t quite catch your meaning?¡±


    Liliane merely smiled.


    Then, she turned and began walking away.


    ¡°You might have heard the rumours, Mr. Oxwell, that there exists a higher rank than S? It¡¯s rare to be acknowledged, and even rarer to be spoken of. But it exists. You should consider that when performing your B-rank trials. The next rung, I find, is much easier when another still waits on the other side.¡±


    Caban had no words as she exited his bar.


    For one thing, he had heard the rumours.


    SS-rank.


    An official rank higher than anything the kingdom had seen in a century, the ceiling so preposterous that it was never broached even in the most drunken of boasts and declarations.


    After all, if there were any SS-rank adventurers,  they would pose a danger so severe that the borders of kingdoms would shift. It would be like a nation gaining a dragon. No, several dragons. Such a sudden shifting of power would cause armies to march.


    However ¡­ that Liliane Harten was even considering that rank in her head was bad news.


    Caban had to do something. He needed to escape. To warn the guild that Liliane herself was little freer than the goblins under her command.


    He didn¡¯t know what magic crowns had in mind these days, but he didn¡¯t need to.


    He¡¯d let others ask the questions.


    Thus, he leaned back and did the only thing he could.


    He tapped his fingers across his counter and waited ¡­ counting the minutes.


    ¡°Uuuunnnnnnnnggghhhhh.¡±


    They lasted as long as the best drinking companions he had.


    He nodded at the sight. A cave full of goblins and hobgoblins, now each as fallen as the tankards by their sides. Froth foamed at their mouths while hands gripped stomachs.


    Only their groans still worked as every soul begged for a merciful end.


    They¡¯d have it by the next morning. Maybe.


    Adventurer¡¯s Grog with a twist was no joke. Especially when the twist was a dash of damn near everything he had all mixed at once. Half was an excellent cocktail. But another half was a trip straight to the local herbalist.


    ¡°All right,¡± said Caban, leaving another bowl of suspect milk for Pepper. ¡°Not sure how many acid traps are waiting for me out there. You enjoy the free food for now. If I live, I¡¯m coming back.¡±


    He nodded as the cat busied himself with forgetting his existence for food.


    Then, seeing the only other movements were the thumbs stubbornly playing with the cards on the ground, Caban grabbed a torch from the wall and left his prison of watchers and customers behind.


    The rest was luck, instinct and more luck.


    His three closest companions.


    Treading swiftly without the weight of a sword by his side, Caban made his way through the tunnels without once stumbling. As surefooted as a deer in a forest, he betrayed the steps of a man who¡¯d fled his fair share of tunnels, caves and mines. And this one was immediately better than most.


    The air wasn¡¯t poisonous and the rocks were smoothed down.


    That earned all the drinks he¡¯d served.


    Caban had known more than one dwarf to take offence at the idea that goblins were better tunnellers than them, but of all the dark and damp places he¡¯d swiftly fled from, the ones made by goblins were usually the very best.


    All he had to do was follow the sound of water.


    He hurried without care for noise. Goblins could smell him before they heard him¨Cunless he thoroughly washed himself first. The sound called out to him like Lady Lumielle¡¯s Star in the night sky. And it came in the form of a stream clearer than any on the surface.


    Shielding his torch as much as he was able, he hopped into the stream and waded against the current, even as it became as wild as a brisk river. Twice, he stumbled as his foot caught against the stone underneath. Three times, he went backwards as the current picked up pace.


    He carried on regardless, trusting in his memories of surviving each edition of fleeing via Mother Nature¨Call the way until he was forced to make new ones at the sight of an endless waterfall.


    The torch in his hand spluttered and floundered as the many droplets flung over him. But it wasn¡¯t the only light. There was something high above now. A pale streak of golden light breaking through the surface like the thinnest ray between a window shutter.


    It was enough.


    Sucking in a deep breath, he grabbed the least jagged protrusion from the rocks beside the waterfall. Darkness engulfed him as he tossed his torch.


    Then, he began to climb.


    One stretch at a time, he accepted the moisture attacking his face, the sharpness of the stone and the water weighing down his sodden clothing and boots. More than once, he slipped as his hands failed to grasp the wet surface, earning nothing but new aches and new cuts.


    It was nothing at all.


    As ever, Caban gritted through the discomfort by playing a familiar scene through his mind.


    It was one which came about often. Usually while fleeing from a brown bear. But any adversity worked.


    Even now, he still remembered every second of that day as clearly as the bright orchard where it¡¯d happened.


    A princess slicing a falling apple, followed by the rain ¡­ and then a mock duel where he still wasn¡¯t sure what had happened.


    That was the moment everything changed.


    The man with the easy smile hadn¡¯t vanished. But the lackadaisicalness in his heart did. It was a flame which guided him through any trial, any darkness.


    In a way, Liliane Harten was right.


    It was always easier when there was another rung. And he¡¯d found the next one after reaching his mentor. For even in their final lesson, when he¡¯d endured the full weight of a single strike by Thomas Lainsfont, his sword had stuck to his hand like melted wax.


    Not the case with a princess in a dress.


    It¡¯d been ripped away so suddenly that he hadn¡¯t noticed the difference in weight until his palm grasped only the sweat upon his skin.


    Thus, Caban followed both the streaks of light and the candle of his own modest ambition.


    He climbed, bearing the water suffocating his face and the exhaustion anchoring him down until he was offered his just reward. The hint of a draft. The whistle of freedom.


    Seeing the edge of the precipice rising above him, Caban allowed himself to smile.


    And then he saw the light disappear as something very large promptly decided to block his view.


    ¡­ Especially since it was now plummeting towards him.

 Chapter 331: Forwarding Doom

    My boots squished against the ground as I led the way, Starlight Grace in hand.


    Squished.


    Like wet sand. Except this wasn¡¯t quite the golden shoreline of my kingdom.


    It was a goblin cave.


    Despite my soles having stepped on everything which could either bend or groan, I had utterly no idea what this was. All I knew was that it wasn¡¯t the perilously short carpet being constantly rolled and unrolled before me whenever I visited a forgotten part of the kingdom.


    And this part was so forgotten it didn¡¯t exist on any map.


    Indeed, these caves were recently excavated.


    The scars could still be seen. Broken pickaxes, makeshift shovels and spent bottles of something alchemical littered the ground and the sides of the tunnel, waiting for the first person to apologise to me to pick up.


    They were the least problematic things.


    Bedrolls made of straw and dead things circled around fires long spent, the soot having melted into the ground. Just as concerning were the burlap sacks happily contaminating  the walls. Whatever their contents, they were avoided by even the mice which scurried past without pause.


    Yes.


    Mice.


    The heralds of insomnia. The dancers upon the ceiling. The demons of my nightmares.


    They¡¯d come sensing a chance to earn that greatest of prizes.


    A princess¡¯s scream of terror.


    And this time ¡­ they may yet succeed.


    A dark stream ran beside my footsteps, its song one of sadness as it was filtered away from the bright mountainside it belonged to. Around it, a strange moss grew on the smooth walls, the bristled ends strangling one another like hateful ivy.


    Here and there, a shaft of sunlight breached the surface, yet did little other than to remind me of the warmth beyond this prison.


    And everywhere I went, the sound of whispering answered.


    Small figures with hunger in their eyes and barbs on their tails scuttled where Starlight Grace failed to reach, their steps joined by an indiscernible dripping, echoing like the drool of some unseen monster.


    ¡°Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnggggghhhh.¡±


    I tightened my grip around my hilt.


    Once again, that dreadful groaning reverberated around us. Whether it was near or far, not even Coppelia could tell. And so I betrayed the smallest gulp.


    A goblin cave. But not just any.


    It was damp, dark and dirty. But it also possessed its own water supply, came fully furnished with discarded ¡­ things, and boasted a major town within walking distance.


    A hole barely beholden to secrecy, just about hidden away in the mountains, and with easy access to all the amenities one could ever want.


    In short ¡­ the dream lair of the royal capital¡¯s nobility.


    ¡°A horrifying spectacle,¡± I said as my heart quivered. ¡°I fear we shall not leave here unscathed.¡±


    My loyal handmaiden, ever steadfast in her duties, braved an unconcerned smile as she looked away from the vegetation on the walls. The strands nearest her retreated.


    Understandable. If what I feared came to pass, even the walls themselves would wish to hide.


    ¡°Oh, because the cave moss has definitely tried to eat us at least twice? ¡­ In that case, don¡¯t worry! That just means they¡¯re healthy.¡±


    I shuddered.


    Not just decoration, but carnivorous decoration. I could practically hear the salivating. And it wasn¡¯t from the cave moss.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid the vegetation is the least of our problems. A vermin infestation will soon be upon us. The goblins haven¡¯t just carved out a cave. They¡¯ve fashioned it from the minds of the most uninspired. All the lords of my royal capital will be blocking our exit within seconds of the current tenants leaving. We¡¯ll need to force our way out. Their carriages will litter the horizon.¡±


    ¡°I mean, that¡¯s sort of impressive as well.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I can¡¯t deny their expedience when it comes to either wriggling free of tax obligations or seeing their least impressive dreams come to fruition. It¡¯s what they train ceaselessly for in their cots.¡±


    ¡°They train to block cave exits?¡±


    ¡°Not just a cave. A lair. Ugh. I can hear the hands rubbing gleefully together already. When the next coup planning committee meets, it will be here.¡±


    Coppelia looked thoughtfully around her.


    ¡°Hmm ¡­ I dunno. I¡¯ve seen better lairs. I like natural lighting. This one is a bit sparse.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. It is dreadful. A place devoid of both light and life. A cave mirroring the halls of the abyss, with ample room to be filled with all the bats, henchmen and tasteless furniture one could desire, fit for only the most vile of schemes and plots to take place.¡±


    ¡°Okay, now you¡¯re selling me. How much for my own?¡±


    ¡°Dignity and pride.¡±


    ¡°Done~!¡±


    I nodded at Coppelia¡¯s enthusiasm.


    Her willingness to sacrifice her standing to remove a lair from public availability was notable. But also a burden which she didn¡¯t need to bear.


    ¡°Your courage brings a tear to my eye. But I can hardly have you assume such a thankless responsibility. You¡¯d be hounded day and night for the deed to this cave. And that means so would I.¡±


    ¡°In that case, why not just keep it?¡±


    I gasped at the very suggestion.


    ¡°We cannot possibly keep it. That¡¯d be awful. Then we¡¯d be known as the royal family who are beloved by all, cherished for our benevolence, famed for our wisdom, envied for our strength ¡­ and also the owners of a cave.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s yours by default, right? It¡¯s not like anyone can just appear and say it¡¯s theirs. You know. Like you.¡±


    ¡°True. But while nobility cannot click their fingers to requisition it, such an obstacle is less than a bar of soap to them. Don¡¯t underestimate their obstinance. They¡¯ll see my most loyal bureaucrats bribed or threatened until a map is conveniently discovered proving their ancestral claims to this hole.¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°... No, I¡¯ll need to dispose of it in one way or another. And seeing what I do now, I know it won¡¯t be long before those who come to admire the continent¡¯s most affordable castle also discover the true prize behind it. For the possibility of owning both, my royal capital would be upended of plotters.  A holiday Roland deserves, but not if it results in a waterfall of schemes afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Got it! Then there¡¯s only one thing to do.¡±


    Coppelia promptly puffed out her cheeks. I deflated them with a poke.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°I¡¯m not blowing up a cave.¡±


    ¡°All I¡¯m saying is you¡¯ve blown up a cave before.¡±


    ¡°I have done nothing. And no circumstantial evidence will hold sway over a court of law while I¡¯m standing menacingly over the judge. Besides, loathe as I am to admit this, the cave has value. This region has been known for its silver deposits in the past. The Miner¡¯s Guild might be tempted to purchase it at an inflated cost if further prospecting is a possibility.¡±


    A giggle filled the damp air.


    ¡°That¡¯s too practical.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia, how could something be too practical?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s too practical, it¡¯s doomed to failure. That¡¯s just how things work.¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    There was absolutely no fault with her argument.


    ¡°I see ¡­ do you have any suggestions?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ I suggest hoisting it onto a hapless goon instead and seeing what happens. You might be surprised!¡±


    That was absurd ... I wanted to say.


    But then again, chaos gardening was also a thing. As impossible as it sounded. A product of too much wine in the Summer Kingdoms, where seeds were tossed without careful thought and left to bloom where they will.


    Most resulted in a jungle of weeds, but every now and again, a white peony rose over the vomit of colours and disarray.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± I considered the suggestion with a nod. ¡°Unorthodox, but worthy of consideration. To purposefully offer land to a member of my serving staff would galvanise their work ethics. However, it would also invoke cries of both disbelief and nepotism.¡±


    Coppelia blinked.


    ¡°... Is that a bad thing?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s good. But we can do better. Opportunities to earn my nobility¡¯s ire must be fully enjoyed, and few ways are better than a performative gesture of doing things above board. Thus, a cursory sum of say, 1 copper crown, and I shall offer this goblin cave to the most hapless servant in my court. Now with a receipt. The cave would be theirs in perpetuity. Including the litter.¡±


    ¡°What about the loot?¡±


    ¡°Naturally, any valuables squirrelled away by the goblins is reserved for the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Alrighty! What I hear is that we need to loot everything before the next person does.¡±


    I nodded and smiled, happy she understood.


    ¡°Quite so. It¡¯s only prudent that we minimise the work of my inspectors while we¡¯re still here. Indeed, I¡¯ve no doubt that even to their studious eyes, there are treasures expertly hidden amidst the crevasses and gaps. We must ensure that nothing is missed.¡±


    Coppelia raised an arm.


    ¡°Question!¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°What do we do about stuff that¡¯s right in front of us?¡±


    ¡°I suppose that depends on what it is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking ¡­ something that¡¯s so obvious we need to step around it or trip over it.¡±


    ¡°... Such as a suspicious treasure chest?¡±


    ¡°Such as a suspicious treasure chest!¡±


    Our steps came to a halt.


    There, in the middle of our path, was indeed something so obvious we needed to step around it or trip over it.


    It was as blatant as they came.


    A brightly painted treasure chest, red as a premium apple and trimmed in gold.


    Lit by its own shaft of daylight, it was harder to miss than all the darkness around it.


    For a moment, neither Coppelia nor myself said anything.


    We simply stared.


    Glossy, reflective, and very large.


    An icon of riches. An oddity which stood out as much for its colour scheme as its value. The chest alone was clearly the most expensive thing we¡¯d seen. Untarnished by any dents or scratches, it was formed of smooth, varnished wood with no crude panelling and few visible grains.


    I blinked at the unexpected sight.


    And then¨C


    ¡°My, how convenient!!¡± I placed a hand on my cheek, smiling in rare delight. ¡°What do we have here? It seems the goblins have already prepared valuables for easy transportation! What a lucky find!¡±


    ¡°Eeehh?!¡±


    ¡°Come, Coppelia! Let¡¯s assess the value of the free gold inside.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Time out! How can you be concerned about me picking up a cursed sack in a forest, but a suspicious treasure chest in the middle of a goblin cave is okay?!¡±


    In response, I shifted my hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ why, that¡¯s because this isn¡¯t a suspicious treasure chest in a goblin cave. This is the first suspicious treasure chest in a goblin cave.¡±


    Coppelia¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came out.


    Indeed, there was little she needed to say.


    After all, my loyal handmaiden may be versed in the way of strange and unexplored dwellings ¡­ but I was versed in the way of anti-intruder, burglar and vandal design!


    Ohoho ¡­ that¡¯s right!


    I knew how this worked!


    Whether it be alchemical flames which were too impractical to use, arrows which were never accurate no matter how many you shot, and ¡­ yes, chests drawn to lure the greed of robbers, there was nothing about classical trap design which I myself hadn¡¯t thoroughly discussed on an innocent summer¡¯s outing with my family!


    Thus, I offered a smile as bright as the inviting red before us.


    ¡°You¡¯ve nothing to fear,¡± I said confidently. ¡°The first treasure chest always contains free gold.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way this thing has free gold.¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me! I¡¯ll have you know it exists so that the next treasure chest can thoroughly do its business when all the intruders rush to gather around it, their guards now cruelly lowered! ¡­ Besides, I hardly see why your doubts should rise now. As you said, you yourself picked up a cursed sack of gold.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but I was pretty sure I knew what it was. This thing is definitely trapped.¡±


    ¡°It is not. In fact, I¡¯m so certain that I¡¯ll bravely let you open it to find out.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha~ that¡¯s cute. I like that. But this is your cave and your treasure. I can¡¯t take your stuff.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly. As my loyal and flame-proof handmaiden, you¡¯re overdue remuneration for your steadfast service. Please consider anything in this not trapped chest as a bonus.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°... I am willing to waive the tax as well.¡±


    ¡°You were going to tax me on treasure?!¡±


    ¡°Everything is taxable. The only things that aren¡¯t are gifts from princesses. Like this.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way this thing doesn¡¯t explode.¡±


    ¡°Please, it¡¯s the first chest. The first chest never explodes. To do so would be beyond unseemly.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And that¡¯s hilarious.¡±


    I pursed my lips, realising once again that decorum only existed in the outside world to be blown up.


    ¡­ Even so!


    ¡°Coppelia, we can hardly just ignore it.¡±


    ¡°I think we can. Look, we can just step around it. Easy!¡±


    ¡°Easy until we¡¯re drowning in regret. It¡¯s far too close to the entrance. If we leave it be, all the layabouts in the guild will be drawn here like sunlight to my smile. We¡¯re trying to evict an adventurer, not entice more. One of us has to open it.¡±


    For a moment, Coppelia and I only stared at the waiting chest.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Rock, paper, scissors, go!!¡±


    I looked down at my small fist, as crushed by Coppelia¡¯s palm as my optimism for a first victory.


    ¡°Oho ¡­ ohoho ... v-very well, then! Just this once, I shall prove to you that the first chest is always free!¡±


    ¡°Yay~¡±


    Coppelia beamed with anticipation as she stood far away. Her joyful expression turned to slight puzzlement when she saw me opening the chest in a roundabout fashion.


    Namely, by pushing it away.


    ¡°Uff ¡­ hrghh ¡­ hnnghh ¡­¡±


    ¡°... Eh? Aren¡¯t you going to open it?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± I glanced behind, ignoring the bead of sweat running past my smile. ¡°Oh, this? Why, I am. It¡¯s just that in the impossible chance it¡¯s trapped, I really can¡¯t needlessly place myself in danger.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay! What will you do, then?¡±


    ¡°Open it from a distance.¡±


    Thus, I pushed the treasure chest towards where the stream vanished over a ledge.


    A faint imprint was left in the damp ground like a boulder rolled across snow. Then, once the chest entered the stream and promptly dammed it, I peeked over the edge. Only darkness met my eyes, broken by a small twinkle reflected from the water¡¯s surface below.


    I nodded in satisfaction.


    Height to open the chest, check!


    Water to extinguish any improbable explosion, check!


    Denials should anyone ask if I¡¯m responsible, check!


    And thus¨Cpush.


    ¡°... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh ¡­¡±


    A moment later, Coppelia joined me in looking over.


    She let out a nod of surprise.


    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s a lot of gold.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. What did I tell you? Free gold and no explosions.¡±


    ¡°I dunno. I¡¯m not sure if we can call that free gold. That¡¯s a really big tongue coming out of that chest. And it¡¯s wrapping itself around the foot of that man.¡±


    I lowered Starlight Grace as much as I could, then narrowed my eyes.


    ¡°Hmm. How odd. Why would a peasant be swimming in a cave?¡±


    ¡°Probably the same reason he was trying to climb up a cave. That was one of the most dramatic screams I ever heard. It¡¯s not even that far.¡±


    I frowned while watching the scuffle between a peasant and a mimic below, considering how best to render assistance without sending all the gold in every direction ¡­ or at least until a small figure flew from the darkness to scratch at the mimic¡¯s pristine wooden exterior.


    It was hissing, at least partly orange, and very much a cat.


    ¡°You think we should help?¡± asked Coppelia, snacking on a macaron from her pouch.


    I watched as both a hand and a set of claws slapped away at the mimic until it retreated, cowed by the weight of a thousand scratches.


    A moment later, the man lifted himself from the stream, now minus one tongue around his foot and plus one feline in his hands. He wore the look of someone who decided he was now permanently a cat owner.


    I shook my head in regret.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do. He¡¯s doomed.¡±

 Chapter 332: Discount Madness

    ¡°Hnnngh ¡­ uuuf ¡­ hooph ¡­.¡±


    An orange, black and white cat appeared over the ledge.


    And then the man whose head it sat upon.


    Heavily breathing and with every inch of his face contorted in equal parts relief and regret, his palms slapped the damp ground as he desperately sought to anchor himself. Fingertips clawed with every morsel of his will as he slowly brought himself over the precipice, each digit twitching with fatigue.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°Haaaaaaaaaaah ¡­¡­¡±


    He belly flopped before me.


    Yes, like a trout freshly escaped from the piranhas in the lake beside the Royal Villa.


    I leaned far enough away that half of me was in another kingdom.


    Even so ¡­ I wasn¡¯t certain if it was enough.


    An unknown man in roughspun travelling attire and the start of an unkempt beard. Clearly a hooligan. And presenting himself to a princess while drenched in sweat! Why, that was worth at least three capital crimes ¡­ but today I would waive all four of them.


    After all, nothing claimed the thin quality of his clothing more than the tears of joy running past his face.


    It was only appropriate. To meet me after escaping a mimic for which I held no responsibility was the highlight of any hoodlum¡¯s day. Yes, even if said hoodlum¡¯s tears of joy seemed to be aimed solely towards the cat in his hands.


    Rising upon his knees, he held the feline high like a holy chalice, drenched in a rare shaft of sunlight.


    ¡°Oooohh!! Incredible! Pepper saved me! That never happens! This is an omen! Usually it¡¯s me rescuing cats, not the other way around!¡±


    The man beamed as he turned his attention to me and Coppelia.


    He blinked as he took in the sight of my loyal handmaiden nibbling on a macaron. Then he did the same with me. Except the blinking never stopped.


    Over and over, his eyes took on the soul of a curtain unable to decide whether to stay open or closed. He rubbed them with his drenched sleeves. And then he rose to his feet, moving the cat side to side while wondering why I wasn¡¯t fleeing during the brief moments it was between us.


    I wondered the same thing as well.


    ¡°... Damn,¡± he said, narrowing his eyes like a drunkard searching for his table. ¡°Too much grog. Even being around that stuff is enough to make me see things.¡±


    I raised a brow.


    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea what that is. But you may rejoice. The light you see blinding your eyes to the point of needing a cat as a veil is very much real.¡±


    The man¡¯s jaw dropped.


    For a moment, he made no other response other than a bizarre gurgle. And while I couldn¡¯t understand the words, I understood the meaning. Joy beyond the ability to speak.


    Indeed, he stood stock still, his face becoming ghastly pale as all sense of expression left him.


    Thus ¡­ he left it to the cat.


    A far more distinguished communicator than any commoner, the man raising the feline¡¯s paw, before leaning forwards and using it to nudge me in the shoulder.


    Poke, poke.


    Prod, prod.


    Tap, tap.


    Hmm.


    How novel.


    This was, indeed, the most unique insult I¡¯d ever experienced.


    Rarely could common hoodlums engrave themselves in history. Yet as I ignored Coppelia immediately joining in to poke me in the other shoulder, I knew at once this man had begun a trend worth more capital crimes than any abacus could count.


    Still, the look of disbelief was only appropriate.


    ¡°... Princess?¡±


    All the more so since he recognised who I was.


    I was utterly taken aback.


    Why, this man ¡­ he¡¯d guessed my identity!


    A commoner whose eyes were wincing through my overwhelming brightness and the appalling amounts of sweat falling from his brows ¡­ and he¡¯d somehow seen through my masterful disguise where even my own nobility frequently failed!


    I couldn¡¯t believe it. My secret was revealed. My presence in a mere cave exposed.


    My hands clenched at once, knowing full well the danger of the situation.


    For against the threat of my royal status being recognised ¡­ there was only one thing to do!


    ¡­ To not betray the expectations of my people!


    ¡°Ohohohoho!¡± I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. ¡°Indeed, I am a princess! You have my congratulations! Why, you have peered through a fog of deception more tangled than any witch¡¯s creation and seen through the subtleties of my expertly crafted persona as a ¡­ well, not a princess! Despite your appearance as a common highwayman, I see your eyes are as discerning as even the most trained of knights! ¡­ Name yourself, Sir Hoodlum! I shall not allow this feat to go unacknowledged! And depending on what you say, I may or may not allow you to go at all!¡±


    The man blinked.


    ¡°Uh, no, we¡¯ve actually met before.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me. Caban. Caban Oxwell.¡±


    I simply stared.


    After a moment, the man¡¯s shoulders relaxed as he purposefully offered a far too easy smile. To my horror, it came with a flash of recognition in the back of my mind. An echo of a memory, ringing to the sound of uncontrollable, maddened laughter.


    I rolled my hand, indicating for him to continue.


    ¡°We, um, we met at the Royal Villa.¡±


    I rolled my hand again.


    ¡°... In your orchard. You sliced a falling shortcake and, well, flicked away the rain. I offered to grade your swordsmanship. You disarmed me in the process. Quite handily, I should add.¡±


    I gasped.


    My feet shuffled backwards. Yet it was all I could do to remain standing as the sheer weight of the memories returned to me like a tide reclaiming the shore.


    The unkempt appearance. The blas¨¦ tone. The outrageous overfamiliarity.


    The utter lack of respect regarding bowing, walking away and then waiting for his turn to be denied a meeting.


    It ¡­ It was him!


    The commoner who¡¯d had the gall to draw a sword in my presence! ¡­ And then use it on me!


    That in itself was awful ¡­ but worst of all, now he was forcing me to remember!


    How ¡­ How dare he!!


    ¡°I ¡­ I cannot believe it,¡± I said, barely able to contain my horror. ¡°It ¡­ It is you! Why, even now, I remember every detail of that morning¨C¡±


    ¡°It was, uh, afternoon.¡±


    ¡°That early, crisp morning as vividly as the sun which had only just crested the horizon! You ¡­ how did you come to escape your cell?!¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°My ¡­ My cell? Well, that was easy. I¡¯ve never been in a cell.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Not yet. I reckon there¡¯s still time, though.¡±


    I was mortified.


    That this man hadn¡¯t once been discreetly bundled away without due process was outrageous!


    Why, my last memory of him was of maniacal laughing in my orchard! Such a suspicious sight was clearly worthy of immediate sentencing! If he harassed one princess in her orchard, then who knew how many he¡¯d callously stolen away from their shortcake inspecting duties under the guise of swordsmanship grading?!


    Indeed, as I viewed the hue of his amazed smile and the clear awe in his eyes, I knew this man could be nothing but a prolific disturber of the peace!


    ¡°... V-Very well,¡± I said with a small groan. ¡°I see how this is. Mr¨C¡±


    ¡°Oxwell. Caban Oxwell.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Oddwell, I realise a chance encounter with me is a dream notion. But to prepare a meeting in such a conspicuous manner twice is highly inappropriate. Neither my orchard nor a cave is suitable for conversation. If you wish for my time, there are official channels, a very long waiting list and also several titles you need to first attain.¡±


    To my horror, I only received a small laugh.


    ¡°True, it does feel like I¡¯m skipping a few queues here. But it wasn¡¯t me who decided this meeting. It was Lady Luck.¡±


    ¡°Lady Luck is in arrears. She owes me more than anything she has left to give. She is in no position to bestow fortune upon anyone but myself.¡±


    ¡°In that case, it probably explains how I ended up here. Well, both me and Pepper, it seems.¡±


    ¡°... Who is Pepper?¡±


    He held up the cat. It licked its nose.


    And just like that¨Ceverything became clear.


    Ugh.


    I rolled my eyes.


    An adventurer with a cat. I suppose that was a tale which told itself.


    ¡°The guild is this direction,¡± I duly said, pointing vaguely behind me. ¡°However, when presenting the cat, do not mention me. No matter how much I helped you climb this modest cliff, I wish for no credit in the feline¡¯s rescue.¡±


    ¡°Uh, right, I¡¯ll keep that in mind ¡­ although credit isn¡¯t really on my mind right now. More just the question of what you¡¯re doing here. In a goblin cave.¡±


    He paused.


    ¡°... Um, Your Highness.¡±


    I let out a sigh.


    ¡°I ask myself that every moment. Be that as it may, this cave is in dispute. It has failed to be sanctioned by my family. And neither goblins nor errant adventurers have the authority to see so much as a single pebble removed from this mountain. Therefore, I¡¯m here to make a settlement entirely in my favour.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes widened.


    He peered towards the sword in my hand, its light no less than when he¡¯d first seen it drawn.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see! That¡¯s ¡­ well, that¡¯s incredible news! Word has escaped about Miss Harten, then?¡±


    ¡°... Who?¡±


    ¡°Miss Harten. Liliane Harten. The A-rank adventurer who¡¯s taken control of the goblin tribe here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, in that case, yes. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Amazing! How many knights did you bring?¡±


    ¡°None.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°My ears are perfectly functional. I¡¯ve no need for knights to test them.¡±


    ¡°You ¡­ You came here without any knights? Did you bring mages, then? From the Royal Institute?¡±


    ¡°Most certainly not. Every mage from the Royal Institute is busy. And until they¡¯ve finished beggaring themselves by removing every artifact from their vaults, they¡¯ll continue to be busy.¡±


    The man blinked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Who did you bring, then?¡±


    ¡°I brought Coppelia.¡±


    I pointed helpfully at the clockwork doll beside me. She offered a cheerful wave.


    ¡°Hi there~ I¡¯m Coppelia.¡± She retrieved a macaron from her pouch. ¡°Want a snack?¡±


    The man only looked confused. Especially at the colour of the snack in question.


    ¡°It ¡­ It looks pretty black, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a regional specialty.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what region?¡±


    ¡°Ouzelia.¡±


    The hand which had been reaching out in politeness stilled. He brought it back to help hold the cat instead.


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ not really a macaron person. I¡¯ll pass, but thanks.¡±


    Coppelia puffed out a cheek in disappointment. Then, rather than eat it herself, it vanished back into the depths of her pouch to further mature instead.


    Neither myself nor the commoner made any comment.


    ¡°A clockwork doll,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°A fitting aide for a princess. But surely, you brought more with you? What about your guards? Your servants?¡±


    ¡°True, they should be with me regardless of time, distance or knowledge of where I am. However, my visit to Marinsgarde was unexpected. This particular detour even more so.¡±


    ¡°Wait ¡­ you came here, just the two of you?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, and I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. I happen to be masterfully incognito. But you¡¯ve little to fear. There is no vagrant either Coppelia or myself cannot punt ourselves.¡±


    The man¡¯s brows scrunched in thought.


    For a long moment, he wore the look of a man trying desperately in vain to guess the generosity of a princess whose benevolence went as far as wherever my diplomats were ordered to espouse. A wrinkle formed on his forehead as he carefully considered the sword in my hand and Coppelia by my side.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Hah ¡­ hahah ¡­¡±


    He simply laughed.


    My body tensed as I feared a recurrence of my orchard. Yet instead of filling these caves with unexplainable glee, he sucked in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders.


    The cat in his hands mewed, not displeased by the motion.


    ¡°... Right. Well, I admit I¡¯m surprised to see a princess here. But it¡¯s not like I don¡¯t understand as well. For someone like you, I imagine it¡¯s not your first time leaving your tower behind, huh?¡±


    I was appalled by the insinuation.


    Whatever reasons he believed me to be here, this was very much my first time leaving my tower behind. At least without the comforts of a royal carriage. And I was quite the poorer for it!


    ¡°It¡¯s the same with my master as well,¡± he added with a chuckle. ¡°However many drinks he serves, I know he¡¯s not as retired as he claims to be. For a village where his bar is the only decent entertainment around, he¡¯s shut up shop a lot more times than I reckon is good for business. A lot of ¡®old friends¡¯ he suddenly misses. You¡¯ve no need to worry, Your Highness, I didn¡¯t see a thing.¡±


    Then, with approximately all his words flying past my ears, he straightened his back.


    The easy smile upon his face passed with the acumen of an actor upon the Royal Arc Theatre, replaced by a look of utmost seriousness instead.


    The most impressive thing I saw from any adventurer thus far.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯ve heard to bring you here, Your Highness. Whether it was news or a sixth sense. But you have to leave. You¡¯re in danger. All of us are.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, that much is obvious. The damp ground is literally seeking to swallow my soles. I shall need to put the shoemakers of Marinsgarde to work before I depart.¡±


    ¡°No, uh, it¡¯s more than that ¡­ it¡¯s Miss Harten. She, well, she put on a goblin hat.¡±


    I raised a brow.


    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told. Thank you for the warning, but rest assured, though my eyes may burn from the sight of goblin fashion, I have seen worse in my corridors.¡±


    ¡°That thing on her head isn¡¯t a fashion piece. It¡¯s some kind of magic crown. And it did things ¡­ is doing things to her. We looted it from a queen jewel spider. The moment she put it on, she changed.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean she isn¡¯t quite there in the head anymore. It started with something about helping Marinsgarde, but I can tell you the town is barely in her thoughts anymore. And now I don¡¯t know what is ¡­ only that it¡¯s bad.¡±


    The man pursed his lips. The cat joined him in a frown.


    ¡°Miss Harten has a good heart. I¡¯m sure of that. She¡¯d never have reached A-rank otherwise. But that crown ¡­ it¡¯s given her power. Power I can¡¯t explain. I¡¯ve seen her paint a sky with a mountain. And from what I can tell, she plans to keep sweeping that brush. That¡¯s why you need to get your knights. You¡¯ll need to get them all, and mages besides, because there¡¯s no telling what that crown is ¡­ uh, Princess?¡±


    I held my finger.


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re telling me this adventurer has gained newly derived unfathomable power from a magical crown?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    I nodded.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°Ohohoohohohoho!!¡±


    My sword waved in every direction, my other hand pressed upon my stomach.


    ¡°Ohoho ¡­ oohohohhho ¡­ ohohohohho ¡­ oho ¡­ ho ¡­¡±


    Only after the cramping had subsided did I gather myself.


    With a smile, I flattened down the front of my hair and wiped a lonely tear from the corner of my eye.


    ¡°... My, is that it?¡±


    ¡°Uh, what?¡±


    ¡°So an adventurer decided to nonchalantly test the droppings of monsters by placing it upon her head. All this time, I wondered what could have driven someone to such madness that they¡¯d threaten consecutive late nights for my diplomats. It turns out it¡¯s the most simple. Utter brazenness.¡±


    Indeed, here was a tale as old as time.


    How many of the cursed artifacts in the Royal Villa¡¯s vaults were themselves retrieved from the minds of the addled? If anything, this was a disappointment. For being the downfall of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, I¡¯d have preferred to exploit a more original motive than this.


    Still, it could have been worse.


    I hardly expected to find such a classic woven within a goblin cave in the first place. Perhaps Coppelia was right.


    If given to the right or wrong person, I might be pleasantly surprised.


    ¡°Princess ¡­ it¡¯s more than madness that crown brings. She called it a crown of empowerment.¡±


    ¡°And she still put it on? I don''t even know what that is and know it¡¯s obviously cursed.¡±


    ¡°A crown of empowerment is a special type of hat,¡± explained Coppelia enthusiastically. ¡°They¡¯re often an archmage¡¯s final creation, since they contain a portion of their magic. Unlike normal magical hats which just makes someone better at what they do, a crown of empowerment can directly confer the abilities of whoever made it. They¡¯re very rare and expensive.¡±


    ¡°Really? How expensive?¡±


    ¡°Extremely. The best ones go for a kingdom.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± My mood brightened. ¡°Then it seems this detour wasn¡¯t for nought. This ¡­ goblin hat shall be of use to the kingdom as a forgotten glint in my family¡¯s vaults.¡±


    Far from nodding in agreement, the adventurer before me only looked exasperated.


    ¡°Princess, wait ¡­ I¡¯ve no doubt of your confidence. And your sword¨CI saw it myself. But so long as that crown is on Miss Harten¡¯s head, it¡¯ll be more than raindrops she¡¯ll cast on you.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± I smiled and turned. ¡°... Good. The mud would have given me pause.¡±

 Chapter 333: Critical Failure

    A glint in the darkness met Starlight Grace¡¯s light.


    But this wasn¡¯t the surface of the dark stream running beside me or the reflection of the rounded walls. It was a glimmer so distinguishable that I could already see it as an impractically shaped tiara being tossed through my window.


    Silver.


    I gasped in delight.


    As I delved deeper within the ever narrowing tunnels of these illegally made caves, whatever consternation I felt was swept away by the warmth of precious ore.


    The veins streaked across the wall like frozen cobwebs, as beautiful and shining as the despair upon the faces of the Miner¡¯s Guild. They would have their cut, of course. But since they neither excavated these caves nor prospected these veins, it meant each dollop of sweat they exuded was worth only a fraction of what they could¡¯ve demanded.


    Ohohohoho ¡­ it was wonderful!


    Such a find was beyond the dead snails and sheltering highwaymen I expected to greet me! While the mountains overlooking Marinsgarde contained silver in the past, even the most desperate of nobility had baulked at the idea of funding the expeditions required to seek out more!


    The goblins had done it for free.


    Naturally, I was overjoyed.


    However, while this was a cause for nothing less than two ¡­ maybe three bunny hops, to celebrate now was to invite needless peril.


    For one thing, there were witnesses.


    But for another, it was more than the weight of the air as we followed the darkness which threatened my ability to mine these mountains dry a second time.


    It was an adventurer.


    And not only the one waiting for me.


    ¡°... No, Pepper, you made your choice. You either had to stay back where I knew where I could find you or you come with me. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make you a Goblin Surprise as soon as I can.¡±


    Trailing just behind Coppelia and myself, the adventurer with a cat was every omen I didn¡¯t desire.


    Armed with only a blunt mining pick designed to shatter the silver veins and a feline which could leap off his shoulder and trigger traps as easily as any waddling duck, all I saw was a premonition of calamity.


    A problem, then.


    Because despite experiencing my regal aura twice in short succession, nothing regarding decorum and the need to make a graceful exit had managed to rub off on him.


    ¡°Mr. Oddwell,¡± I said in a polite tone, keeping away from the walls so he would as well. ¡°While I¡¯m truly delighted for the information you¡¯ve offered regarding this ¡­¡±


    ¡°Liliane Harten.¡±


    ¡°Yes, her. While I acknowledge your assistance thus far, I believe your current task is to safely deliver this lost cat to its owner. I cannot ensure its safety. Nor yours, for that matter. I must reiterate that you¡¯re a swordsman currently without a sword. This is not helpful. At all.¡±


    Much to my chagrin, the adventurer only gripped his pickaxe tighter.


    His shoulders stiffened and back straightened. He would doubtless have reacted the same had I challenged him not to consume the entire contents of a communal cauldron, pieces of shoes and all.


    ¡°I understand, Princess,¡± he said, not understanding in the slightest. ¡°Be that as it may, my part in this is unfinished. I was there when Miss Harten wore the crown. I bear responsibility. If I was stronger, she wouldn¡¯t have needed to use it.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and how do you intend to use that lack of strength to rectify that woman¡¯s mistake?¡±


    The man gave a shrug. I could only groan.


    ¡°Her mind¡¯s elsewhere, but we can still bring it back. I¡¯m sure of it. Liliane Harten isn¡¯t lost to us. We just need to reach through to her. There¡¯s a lot about how that crown works which neither of us knows about. But whatever we find ahead of us, I reckon we¡¯ll at least have a better chance together than apart.¡±


    I nodded. The words were well spoken.


    ¡°Please leave.¡±


    ¡°Princess! If ¡­ If you fear me being a burden, then rest assured, I do not need a sword to fight!¡±


    ¡°To sacrifice yourself for my sake is a noble goal. And I acknowledge that. However, it is not your loyalty or even your lack of a weapon which is a burden. It is that.¡±


    I pointed at the copper ring disgracing his finger.


    Then, I gestured all around me.


    ¡°This is a goblin cave filled with traps. You are an adventurer. There is no scenario in which your presence won¡¯t result in disaster. Your profession demands it. Why, you were just magically struck by an airborne treasure chest!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh, I can¡¯t really explain that one,¡± he said, rubbing his head. ¡°But other than mimics falling from the sky, I¡¯m good at avoiding the worst of things. I¡¯m light on my feet, just as much as Pepper here is.¡±


    I paused, then leaned towards him.


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that you¡¯re adept at avoiding highly lethal traps likely to cause explosions?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m no ranger, but I¡¯ve got good eyes and an even better sense for danger.¡±


    ¡°And how many traps have you triggered before?¡±


    ¡°One or two,¡± he admitted. ¡°But each was a learning experience back when I was new. I¡¯ve done my share of goblin caves now and more besides. I¡¯m confident I won¡¯t trigger any traps now.¡±


    ¡°... Once more.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Repeat that line once more. And also spin around.¡±


    The man blinked in confusion.


    Then, seeing only seriousness scribbled across my face, he slowly began to spin around.


    ¡°I¡¯m, uh, confident I won¡¯t trigger any traps now.¡±


    I waited, my ears primed for a sudden click followed by a rumbling in the near distance.


    Nothing came.


    I sighed, then turned and continued onwards.


    ¡°... Fine, but don¡¯t touch anything.¡±


    An enthusiastic nod answered at once.


    ¡°Not touching anything,¡± he said, raising his pickaxe. ¡°Not least with this. I wouldn¡¯t fancy myself against even a novice mage with this. And certainly not Miss Harten. But then again, I hope we¡¯ll only need her own good senses as our weapon.¡±


    ¡°I find sense to be a rare thing in a cave. It is rarer in those who stick magic hats upon their scalp.¡±


    ¡°I still have hope. You might not know much about her, but Liliane Harten is one of the youngest to have ever reached A-rank. It¡¯s incredible, really, thinking about the things she must have done to achieve it. After all, A-rank puts her among the most respected, highly acclaimed and famous of adventurers.¡±


    ¡°Ack, hack, ugh, uck ¡­¡±


    ¡°Uh, princess?¡±


    ¡°M-My apologies, I suddenly found something very uncomfortable in the back of my throat ¡­¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I see. Are you well or ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m okay ¡­ A-rank is ¡­ yes ¡­ truly, that ¡­ that is an impressive, horrifically impressive rank to have reached ¡­ and she¡¯s one of the youngest? How ¡­ How long did it take her?¡±


    ¡°Well, um, I¡¯m not sure on the exact number. But it wasn¡¯t too far past 10 years.¡±


    ¡°10 ¡­ 10 years?!¡±


    The man nodded wholeheartedly.


    ¡°Yeah, impressive, right? But there¡¯s been faster. Like the Snow Dancer. She reached it in record time. An A-rank elven sword saint. Now that¡¯s something ¡­ although lately, I¡¯m actually hearing rumours of someone else flying up the ranks as well.¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    A smile of appreciation lit up the darkness, battling against the horror from my face.


    ¡°Then again, there¡¯s always rumours like that. Still, who knows? Maybe in a few years, we might just have another A-rank in our midst ¡­ but I suppose such things as ranks don¡¯t really matter to you, huh?¡±


    ¡°Of ¡­ Of course not ¡­ w-whatever rank someone is classified against their will is utterly meaningless! I-Indeed, the only rank that matters is one¡¯s princess rank, and mine is already the highest tier available!¡±


    I smiled and nodded ¡­ all the while ensuring my copper ring was subtly hidden away in a bottomless pouch.


    A fact which hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed.


    Coppelia stared at where it¡¯d vanished. And then at me.


    Slowly, she broke into a bright smile.


    ¡°Hey, did you know that our princess is actually¨C¡±


    ¡°O-Ohohoho?! W-What¡¯s this?! I¡¯ve suddenly remembered that the nice pillow is actually vacant!¡±


    ¡°Ooh, really? How long for?¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    ¡°Well, I suppose 1 ¡­ perhaps 2 nights would be more than reasonable ¡­¡±


    ¡°Our princess is actually¨C¡±


    ¡°B-By all means, use the nice pillow for as long as you please!¡±


    Coppelia immediately raised her treasonous arms in joy. The cost of appeasement to avoid the least wanted conversation since I explained to my etiquette tutor why hanging from a windowsill was indeed regal on account of the fact I was fundamentally using myself as a royal banner.


    For both this and that, I¡¯d gladly pay a toll until a more well-timed distraction could arrive.


    For example¨C


    ¡°Bugbear,¡± I said.


    ¡°Bugbear,¡± replied the commoner.


    ¡°Bugbear!~¡± added Coppelia.


    We came to an abrupt stop.


    All of a sudden, the darkness gave way to flickering shadows and the flames of a lonely brazier.


    It was barely enough to dispel the dampness, let alone who stood before it.


    A very large, very hairy and very heavily armed bugbear.


    He gripped the handle of a two-handed warhammer, the spiked head resting upon the ground like the butt of a spear. A weapon so heavy it was denting the very ground.


    But if that wasn¡¯t enough, there was everything else as well.


    Knives, hatchets and clubs. Even a bundle of javelins rising like a quiver of arrows. Wearing only a red cloak, a lamellar skirt guard and a crossed leather harness for either protection or dignity, he boasted a weapon for every intruder and every situation.


    Standing sentry amidst the barren backdrop of solitude, he was the very image of a seasoned guardian.


    A proud bugbear champion more obstinate than any door ¡­ particularly since there was none.


    Just behind him was the most promising hole in a wall yet.


    A dim light poured from it, flickering like a candle moments from death. I caught snatches of the commotion beyond, of things struck and hauled, screeching and groaning like a pew dragged across a chapel floor. The odour of ill-deeds was in the air.


    Or perhaps that was simply the bugbear standing too close to the brazier.


    The hem of his cloak was singeing.


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Coppelia. ¡°He¡¯s just standing there. Imposingly. On his own.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Indeed, to jump to attention and feign that he was always standing like that is impressive. It takes remarkable discipline to appear so impractically diligent.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s not blinking too.¡± Coppelia leaned forwards and narrowed her eyes. ¡°... Yup. Not blinking. Not even once. Can you do that?¡±


    ¡°Of course. To disregard the dryness of my eyes is a critical survival skill during a soir¨¦e. Without it, I could never fall asleep while my dance partner pretends not to see it. But for a doorstop to possess such a skill? An adversary whose worth is measured in more than just weapons.¡±


    I offered my rare acknowledgement.


    Then, I pointed at the doorway behind him.


    ¡°... Come, let¡¯s continue onwards!¡± I said with a satisfied smile. ¡°Our destination cannot be far. I already smell the disappointment. Perhaps this will be a shorter detour than feared. With luck, I¡¯ll forget this debacle ever occurred before dinner.¡±


    I began to skip ahead.


    I stopped when an adventurer coughed behind me.


    ¡°Uh ¡­ Princess?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    He pointed at the bugbear.


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°Well, he''s hardly excluded. He can forget this entire affair as well.¡±


    ¡°Right, well ¡­ it¡¯s just that I¡¯m fairly sure the big fella is guarding that entrance right behind him. Do you have a plan for getting past?¡±


    I thought for a moment, then nodded confidently.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The man blinked. His smile slowly began to fade.


    ¡°Um ¡­ begging your pardon, but isn¡¯t that a problem?¡±


    Ugh.


    I rolled my eyes. Commoners.


    ¡°Please, Mr. Oddwell, if anybody seeks to bar my path, that is not a princess problem. It is an everybody else problem. It is a matter for the guards, doorstops and walls to decide how best to stop me, not for me to decide how best I will walk by.¡±


    Far from looking relieved, the man glanced between the blunt pickaxe in his hand and the hog currently being turned to charcoal.


    He swallowed a small gulp.


    ¡°That¡¯s mighty confident of you, Princess. But while I don¡¯t doubt your ability, I feel it¡¯s best for all involved if we didn¡¯t cause a commotion. I reckon with half a chance, I might just be able to steal away the crown on Miss Harten¡¯s head without anyone knowing.¡±


    Then, his smile returned with its brightest flash yet.


    ¡°... Which is why you can leave this to me. I actually happen to know this bugbear. Give me a moment and I¡¯ll be able to talk us right past him.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I see? ¡­ Is diplomacy your forte?¡±


    ¡°Well, you don¡¯t convince people to drink the bottom shelf stuff if you don¡¯t have a certain way with words. Suffice to say, I¡¯m good at making friends. You can trust me on this.¡±


    Hmmmmmmmm.


    I was somewhat less than convinced.


    Frankly, adventurers weren¡¯t known for the art of speech in anything other than drunken boasts, flying insults and indecipherable songs ¡­ but in the end, who was I to deny an opportunity for my subjects to gallantly pave the way before me?


    ¡°Very well.¡± I offered a polite smile, then sheathed my sword. ¡°In that case, I shall leave this to you.¡±


    ¡°Great! Stick close and follow my lead. With a bit of luck and a lot of blagging, we¡¯ll be able to see this through without a single blade being raised.¡±


    The man did up the collar of his muddied and still damp clothes.


    Then, with his blunt pickaxe against one shoulder and the cat held against the other, he went ahead without once making sure anyone was actually following.


    Coppelia turned to me, excitement bubbling away in her eyes.


    ¡°Ooh, ooh! I bet two hazelnut croissants he¡¯ll make friends with a forehead in under 45 seconds!¡±


    ¡°30 seconds.¡±


    ¡°Done~!¡±


    Thus, we exchanged nods and followed.


    ¡°... Grubtooth!¡± cried our impromptu diplomat, raising the cat in either greeting or surrender. ¡°I¡¯ve been missing you! Why haven¡¯t you come to try my latest range of Black Kraken Rum? I¡¯ve been holding a bottle just for you!¡±


    The bugbear looked up as the commoner approached.


    He merely raised a brow, then slowly pointed at himself.


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Of course, who else?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Grubtooth.¡±


    ¡°Exactly, because you¡¯re¨C¡±


    ¡°Redcloak.¡±


    ¡°Redcloak!¡± The commoner¡¯s smile continued unabated. ¡°Of course, because you¡¯re wearing a red cloak!¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s because that¡¯s the name my mother gave me. The red cloak I¡¯m wearing is coincidental.¡±


    ¡°And what a happy coincidence it is, eh? Red like the blood of your enemies! I almost didn¡¯t recognise you. Too handsome in such a new cloak.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not new.¡±


    ¡°No, but you can pretend it¡¯s new. I¡¯ve actually something homemade for you. A little moonshine that¡¯s less moon and more shine. You can use it as a powerful washing liquid after you¡¯re done spitting it out.¡±


    ¡°That sounds horrible. I also do not drink.¡±


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t. Responsibilities and all. How¡¯s the daughter?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a daughter.¡±


    ¡°The son.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have children.¡±


    Beside me, Coppelia¡¯s shoulders sagged as she saw two hazelnut croissants vanishing into the ether.


    To his credit, neither the man nor his sociable candour were fazed.


    ¡°And how right you are not to in this busy day and age. Terrible environment. Nothing but work, work, work. Myself included. Why, I¡¯ve got to help Miss Harten with the Big Plan now. And I¡¯m not even sure what it is.¡±


    The bugbear frowned.


    After a moment, he pointed towards Coppelia and myself as we edged closer. Coppelia pointed back. I lowered her finger.


    ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°New helpers.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t told about new helpers.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but what are we told, right? I didn¡¯t even get a chance to finish pouring my last drink. I¡¯ve still got Pebblesneeze waiting on his grog.¡±


    A moment of silence passed between the two.


    But that didn¡¯t mean no words were exchanged. A bead of sweat ran down the adventurer¡¯s face.


    ¡°... Stay here,¡± said the bugbear. ¡°I¡¯ll check with the Boss.¡±


    ¡°Now that¡¯s just unnecessary. With how busy Miss Harten is, that¡¯ll just mean I¡¯m disturbing her twice.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just basic prudence. She did tell me that if you ever suddenly appeared without warning, it¡¯s because you¡¯d escaped from the bar and were trying to sneak in.¡±


    The bugbear with a red cloak paused.


    ¡°... Are you trying to sneak in?¡±


    In answer, the commoner merely laughed.


    It wasn¡¯t returned.


    A telling silence went his way instead, broken only by the spitting of a fire and the slight shuffling as a bugbear fully rose. Unimpressed eyes looked down on him. The din of suspicion rose.


    Then, just as the bugbear took a step forwards¨C


    Fwooosh.


    A powerful breeze swept through the depths.


    It was followed at once by a circle of dark flames erupting around the commoner¡¯s feet.


    All of a sudden, the jovialness of a man sitting at a bar could no longer be seen.


    Instead, a hard frown settled upon his face, erasing what was there before. Dented brows were disturbed only by his hair rippling like a mast at sea and a cat hopping from his arms. An aura of steel and determination engulfed his form as his narrowed eyes locked upon the adversary he¡¯d chosen.


    ¡°All right, you got me,¡± he calmly said, lifting his mining pick. ¡°I¡¯m here to put things right. And that means a quiet word with Miss Harten. Now trust me when I say you don¡¯t want to be in the way. Because I went through an entire bar of goblins to get here and I¡¯m not even half drunk yet. So how about we both agree to look the other way?¡±


    The bugbear paused.


    For a moment, he did nothing but study the adventurer before him.


    And then¨Che raised his warhammer.


    ¡°The colour on my cloak is beginning to fade,¡± said the bugbear as he rolled his shoulders. ¡°Can¡¯t hurt to fix that.¡±


    The adventurer nodded.


    Then, still with that expression of conviction like a squire with a lance, he looked to the side and sent a confident smile towards me.


    ¡°My sword skills don¡¯t actually work with pickaxes. Need help.¡±

 Chapter 334: Falling Upwards

    Bugbears.


    They were the greatest warriors that any self-respecting goblin tribe could boast.


    If there was a problem, they could fix it. Often by simply existing.


    Famed as the finest handymen any tribe could want, they were the mailed fist and the implied threat both efficiently rolled into one. Boasting jaws wider than their foreheads, their tusks were sturdy enough to impale a boulder. They usually didn¡¯t need to go that far.


    If something was in the way, then it could also be tossed away.


    Standing atop the goblin hierarchy, they were enforcers, gladiators, warlords ¡­ and to a certain adventurer¡¯s dismay, also doorstops.


    ¡°Oh dear.¡±


    The colour in his cheeks faded beneath the shadow of a large warhammer.


    Despite his predicament, little surprise was mixed in with his regret.


    After all, it was a matter of course that most adventurers were doomed to be found as skeletons clogging up the interior of dungeons. As explorers, pilgrims and robbers, they formed a natural part of the ecosystem, ensuring that the horrors which dwelled in the heart of my family¡¯s tombs continued to be fed so we didn¡¯t have to hire actual guards.


    Most adventurers, however, were not all of them.


    As though lathered in oil and luck, the very finest slid from the arms of the law as easily as they did the rolling boulders which awaited in my family¡¯s tombs.


    It mattered little if the boulder was bigger, covered in spikes or wreathed in flames. Adventurers were the original upstarts of the continent. The aspiration for every sweaty farm boy.


    As a result, even if most of them failed to do more than wake cats as they peacefully slept in trees, every so often, those failures gave rise to a dashing rogue who could leap across a widening chasm even as the world rained upon him. A budding hero who would permit my guards to gawp from the other side, just before escaping with a last witless remark.


    This man ¡­ was not quite that hero.


    ¡°Woah, woah, woahwoahwoah!¡±


    Instantly throwing his pickaxe to the side, he crossed his arms in a classical display of appeasement.


    ¡°Grubtooth¨Cwait, I mean Redcloak! Redcloak. Listen. Just listen!¡±


    The bugbear paused, his eyes narrowing.


    Even so, his warhammer continued to rise ¡­ albeit very slowly.


    ¡°Go on. What is it?¡±


    The commoner¡¯s smile bloomed once more.


    All the while, he was steadily leaning further away.


    ¡°We¡¯re both civilised individuals,¡± he said, palms held outwards. ¡°Naturally, I understand you have a job. And you take it very seriously. But the question needs to be asked if the job deserves you taking it seriously. Because as far as I see it, you can do better.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    The warhammer prepared to fall.


    ¡°Woah, woahwoahwoah! Not done yet! Listen, I don¡¯t know what Miss Harten is doing. And I¡¯m guessing neither do you. That¡¯s not right. A fella of your standing should be in the thick of things, butting heads with the bigwigs. Instead, you¡¯re here on door duty.¡±


    ¡°I asked for door duty.¡±


    ¡°Which is great. Nice, calm and relaxing. Except it also doesn¡¯t pay the best. I should know. I¡¯ve even done it a few times myself. That¡¯s why, henchman to henchman¨CI¡¯m sure we can work something out.¡±


    And just like that, the commoner patted his pocket ¡­ and winked.


    The response was all too appropriate.


    Bwam.


    A crack of the earth.


    The bugbear slammed his weapon into the ground, outraged by the worst bribe attempt ever witnessed. A warrior¡¯s seething indignation was on full display as he stepped past his discarded warhammer. He raised his fists instead, towering over the gulping commoner.


    White eyes shone beneath the all consuming shadow.


    For a moment, nothing could be heard but the sound of tarnished pride as knuckles cracked and teeth clenched at the suggestion a bugbear champion would throw aside his dignity for a commoner¡¯s desperate gambit.


    And then¨C


    ¡°8 copper crowns.¡±


    The bugbear held out his palm.


    He received only an expression of shock.


    That was understandable. The man had clearly forgotten his coin purse.


    He blinked several times, then patted himself down from top to bottom. When that failed to conjure any crowns, he offered the waiting bugbear an awkward smile instead.


    ¡°Ahem ¡­ I, uh, I seem to have misplaced my coin purse.¡±


    The bugbear¡¯s expression hardened.


    As his palm began to retract, the commoner turned to me for help. He didn¡¯t need to.


    I was already there.


    ¡°Please wait one moment,¡± I said, opening my bottomless bag.


    I immediately began digging through the coins.


    Not allowing the opportunity to safely pass a heavily armed bugbear to go to waste, I carefully counted out 8 copper crowns while letting the silver and gold variety drip between my fingers.


    With a nod of satisfaction, I looked up and smiled.


    ¡°My apologies. It seems I¡¯ve also misplaced my coin purse.¡±


    The bugbear stared at me.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, you¡¯ve an entire bag of crowns.¡±


    ¡°Do I now?¡± I dropped the coins back into said bag, before stirring the surface with my fingertip. ¡°My, then I suppose you¡¯ll need to up your demands so I can reject that as well.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    The bugbear blinked in a show of confusion.


    I hardly saw why. The insult was so obvious that sneezing in my direction was more subtle.


    ¡°... How dare you!¡± I said, my boot stomping the ground as I replaced my smile with a look of outrage. ¡°I have never heard such an obscene demand before!¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, it¡¯s 8 copper crowns. Not even enough to form 1 silver crown.¡±


    ¡°Exactly! ¡­ What kind of bribe is that?!¡±


    I was utterly appalled. As was the commoner. And for good reason.


    Why ¡­ we were practically accused of being poor!


    To me, that was an affront. But to the commoner, it was just a needless reminder of his plight. Both were highly unnecessary.


    ¡°This man¡¯s life is defined by hardship!¡± I declared, empathy flowing through my veins as I pointed at the horrified individual beside me. ¡°As an adventurer, all his pride and income is continually lost amidst the branches of trees! That you would flagrantly cast light upon his poverty with this false benevolence is shameless! ¡­ Coppelia, name a number!¡±


    ¡°1 coppelion2!¡±


    ¡°Very well! I demand that you immediately extort him by at least 1 coppelion2 instead!¡±


    ¡°I cannot ask for 1 coppelion2. That is not a real number.¡±


    ¡°No? And yet you seem to believe that 8 copper crowns is. That is ludicrous. What do you intend to purchase with your ill-gotten riches? Half a cr¨ºpe without any fillings?¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, I¡¯ll ask you not to make light of my business strategy. You can pay the bribe or not.¡±


    The bugbear looked indignant. That was my expression.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t a bribe! It¡¯s a charitable donation!¡±


    ¡°You may call it what you wish. It¡¯s no issue with me¨Cas long as you pay it.¡±


    ¡°I most certainly will not! ¡­ Why, just look at you! You¡¯ve arranged yourself like a goon of note, standing alone before an important entrance while feigning not to heed the constant boredom! ¡­ Why do you not demand a higher bribe? That is the least of expectations!¡±


    A snort answered me.


    A disgraceful sound. And yet it paled to the insult he was laying against all his peers.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. For someone in my position, the going rate for a standard bribe stands at 14 gold crowns and 6 silver pieces. An amount so inflated that intruders simply turn to a different bugbear to bribe. That¡¯s me. I¡¯m undercutting my competition.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°By asking for 8 copper crowns?! That isn¡¯t undercutting your competition! It¡¯s turning them all out of their jobs!¡±


    ¡°True ¡­ and what of it?¡±


    ¡°It is awful! How will guards eke out a meagre living if they cannot supplement their income with the occasional backhanded payment?! It means people like me will have to start paying them more!¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t pay your guards sufficiently, that¡¯s not my fault. This is a free market. People can charge and pay what they wish. And 8 coppers crowns is what I¡¯ve determined to be the number so low that not even the most prideful will argue over it. On the contrary, they believe I am an utter fool.¡±


    ¡°Are you not?!¡±


    The bugbear smirked. A glint of pride shone in his eyes.


    ¡°Not in the slightest. I have been bribed for over 20 years. I have let heroes, rogues, adventurers and assassins through every door I have ever guarded. No matter who it is, I have never failed to stand aside for the lowest bribe imaginable. And the result is that not only am I alive, but I now own my own cottage in the Summer Kingdoms.¡±


    My mouth widened in disbelief.


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡±


    ¡°The places I guard are always the deepest. The last stop before whichever goblin chieftain or bandit warlord I¡¯m guarding that week. Anybody who reaches me is incredibly strong. Could I defeat them? Absolutely not. But they don¡¯t know that. And so I allow them to avoid a potentially deadly fight and conserve their strength just before the end¨Cand all for the throwaway cost of 8 copper crowns per person.¡±


    The bugbear raised his hand, then counted with his fingers.


    ¡°The average party size is 6,¡± he said smartly. ¡°Each member pays 8 copper crowns. That¡¯s 4 silver and 8 copper crowns per week. Next week is another. And then another. In a month I have 1 gold, 9 silver and 2 copper crowns. In a year I have 23 gold and 4 copper crowns. In 10 years I have 230 gold and 4 silver crowns. The result? Half the cost of a tidy cottage, highly fashionable, limestone and cedarwood with a chimney, a separate kitchen and a scenic view of a bridge.¡±


    I was aghast.


    Especially since Coppelia was nodding in approval.


    Clearly, a conversation was due. If she ever wanted to betray me, then I refused to condone her accepting anything less than a castle with literal flames spilling from the walls.


    ¡°Who wants a scenic view of a bridge?¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°To see the drunkards who disgrace themselves by emptying their stomachs over it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I admit that¡¯s a blemish ¡­ but those looking to buy from me don¡¯t know that.¡±


    The bugbear grinned, puffing out his chest to stand just a bit taller.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I stick to my rates. They¡¯re tried and tested. Perhaps I can haggle for more, but perhaps I can also eat a fireball. I play it safe. 8 copper crowns is the amount nobody deems worth wasting a spell or denting a weapon over. And so I extend it to you as well¨Cdespite seeing you can pay for more.¡±


    A palm was promptly presented to me.


    I would¡¯ve been less horrified if he attempted to shake my hand with it.


    ¡°Absolutely not! You may not care about your reputation, but I care about mine! What will people say if they know I paid such an insultingly low amount?!¡±


    ¡°Most likely that you can spot a good deal. Especially since with the crowns you saved, you can also consider my additional services.¡±


    I threw up my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°Why? Do you have an entire menu of betrayal options?¡±


    ¡°Everything has a price. Mine happens to be extremely affordable.¡±


    ¡°Goodness, I apologise! I had no idea this was an ¨¤ la carte service! Does this mean you¡¯ll also stab your employer for 1 extra copper crown?¡±


    The bugbear scoffed.


    Apparently, that was 2 copper crowns.


    ¡°That would open me up to far too much risk. No, I won¡¯t personally involve myself. But I can offer very useful advice that just so happened to be tortured out of me ¡­ for the low cost of only an additional six copper crowns per pertinent piece of information.¡±


    ¡°And what constitutes pertinent, exactly? Which soap is most disliked?¡±


    ¡°Pay and you shall learn. Surely, you wish to know more about what awaits? I can offer a competitive advantage. One which also comes with a guarantee. If my advice isn¡¯t useful, I¡¯ll offer a refund¨Cproviding that you survive, of course.¡±


    Once again, the glint of blatant profiteering appeared in the bugbear¡¯s eyes.


    I didn¡¯t know what to be more appalled by.


    The fact that he was the most shameless guard I¡¯d ever known or that he was proud of this fact.


    A problem, then.


    Because I had no doubt from his candour that the moment I raised my sword, he¡¯d do something far worse than fight. He¡¯d flee, screaming at the top of his lungs for all to hear.


    ¡­ Fortunately, I wasn¡¯t just a princess!


    I was the most kind and understanding princess.


    This was a fact. None of my guards avoiding direct eye contact with me ever said otherwise. And I knew more about their plight than anyone else. Whenever a chihuahua visited the Royal Villa, they were the ones tasked with ensuring none of the porcelain was broken. A task as thankless as it was impossible.


    I had no doubt this particular bugbear experienced similar trials.


    That¡¯s why¨C


    ¡°Very well.¡± I relaxed my posture, offering a pleasant smile. ¡°I see you¡¯ve clearly placed some thought into this long term bribery scheme. However, I must decline taking part.¡±


    The bugbear noticeably stiffened.


    ¡°Truly? Not a single bribery option?¡±


    ¡°Yes ¡­ after all, I wish to make you an offer instead.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°In exchange for your cooperation, I will tell you how to earn more than 8 copper crowns per head.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± The bugbear turned his frame slightly, clearly with a mind towards racing for the entrance behind him. ¡°But as I¡¯ve already said, this is the number I¡¯ve deemed most suitable.¡±


    ¡°Because you work for warlords and brigands. Only goody two shoes with more morals than wealth come to bother you. What you need instead is to extort those on the other side of the moral compass. Thieves whose pockets are brimming with stolen gold. And that means choosing different employers.¡±


    I leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°You need to work for nobility.¡±


    The bugbear paused, his mouth widening.


    Even so, no words came out. Only a mild gurgle of sheer disbelief. And why not?


    It was a wondrous suggestion which would make everybody happy.


    Myself most of all.


    Ohhohohhoohoho!!


    Here it was! ¡­ My most powerful ability!


    [Princess Sabotage]!!


    Indeed, this bugbear wasn¡¯t just terrible at his job!


    Why, he was actively a liability to whoever he protected! ¡­ And that was perfect!


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ my, how very sad,¡± I said, barely covering my innocent smile. ¡°To think that all this time, you believed yourself to be prudent. In truth, you were doing nothing less than shortchanging yourself.¡±


    ¡°... What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°In the royal capital of Reitzlake, you shall find no end of nobility gathering around the dampest sewer entrances like wrinkled mosquitoes. Each of them would pay handsomely to have a seasoned guard standing watch over their illicitly hidden wealth.¡±


    I waited for the bugbear to immediately ask me for directions.


    Instead, I received only something between a snort and a chuckle.


    ¡°Hah. Your suggestion is unique, but naive. You refer to human nobility. They¡¯ll never hire me.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? And yet 20 years of continuous service suggests something different.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter how many years of service I have. Guarding the homes of human nobility is the most competitive job there is. Nothing comes close to matching how lucrative it is. And to be hired as a guard, you need to already be a guard. It¡¯s a closed circle. I¡¯ve asked.¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s your problem. You asked.¡±


    The bugbear wore a look of obvious confusion. I pointed around me.


    ¡°Fortunately for you, that will soon change. This hole is about to be vacated with only treasure and untapped ore left behind. All the nobility will fly here faster than the bats they lovingly stroke each night ¡­ and what they shall find is a guard who remained true to his duties even when all else have fled. They will hire you on the spot.¡±


    ¡°You must be joking. That won¡¯t help my case. It¡¯d be clear I failed to stop you. It¡¯s easy to get another job with a warlord in the wilds. But with nobility, they get to be picky. They only want the best.¡±


    ¡°Ohohohoho ¡­ incorrect.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°As a guard, your job isn¡¯t to stop intruders. That¡¯s what doors are for. The purpose of a guard is simply to look the part. It¡¯s a role wholly concerned with aesthetics.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°No? And yet here you are, dressed like an armoury to the point of impracticality.¡±


    The bugbear fell silent.


    I pointed behind me.


    ¡°Very soon, a host of prospective employers will be here. And showing that you¡¯re willing to offer your life in defence of them is the greatest trait there is. Anyone can be a guard. But few can be a loyal guard. Now, what do you normally do after you allow intruders to pass by?¡±


    ¡°Well, I, uh ¡­ I sort of pretend I was knocked out.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Then you shall do the same again. But better.¡±


    I clicked my fingers, then pointed at the entrance he was tasked with guarding.


    ¡°Just there. Yes, right there. Slump against the doorway as though violently propelled by a great force. Have both your legs slightly twisted, with one hand nursing a debilitating wound to your abdomen and the other holding your weapon upright. Thus, not only did you bravely make your last stand, but you still attempted to raise yourself in a final act of defiance. Maintain this position and I guarantee that within 48 hours, you shall have representatives of the aristocracy checking your groaning but miraculously conscious state. Speak of a horror you cannot recall and your regret you were powerless to stop it. Their eyes will light with pride at a scene which tells a story of heroism against the odds.¡±


    A blank stare was all I received for my instructions.


    But not for long.


    A frown was made. A cheek was scratched. A hum was sounded.


    Then, the bugbear easily lifted his warhammer from the ground ¡­ before suddenly stumbling backwards as though struck by a hill giant¡¯s fist, slumping magnificently against the open doorway.


    ¡°Oh dear,¡± he said. ¡°I appear to be incapacitated.¡±


    He twisted his legs slightly.


    Ohohohohohohohoho!!


    I smiled in delight at the scene.


    Like a beautiful garden carefully arranged, each awkward limb told a tale which needed no words.


    ¡°... I wish you well in your future endeavours,¡± I said as I promptly climbed over the splayed legs. ¡°I¡¯ve no doubt with your talents, you shall enjoy a profitable career at the expense of the realm¡¯s vultures.¡±


    A moment later, I turned around, noting the lack of anyone following me.


    ¡°Pffffffffft.¡±


    To my dismay, Coppelia was busy holding back her laughter.


    She had both hands to her mouth ¡­ neither of which were helping to reduce the way her cheeks were now worryingly crinkled.


    Despite this, it was a slightly more regal expression than what the commoner wore.


    He was gawping at the fallen bugbear like a goldfish chewing on a pebble. A deeply unflattering look not helped by a cat climbing atop his head.


    I nodded, smiled, then decided to ignore both.


    ¡­ Right! It was time to chastise an adventurer!

 Chapter 335: Her Name

    They say the greatest accolade an adventurer could earn was retirement.


    Timon Quinsley disagreed. All the more so since everyone insisted on sticking an ankle out until he tripped directly into it.


    They failed¨Ceven with his help.


    Year after year, he ensured that the angle of his stooped back and the shuffling of his gait was just a tiny bit more promising. An open invitation for the most ambitious of his juniors to brave a lunge for the chair in his office.


    He continued to happily punt them all away.


    Retirement, after all, was nothing less than oblivion packaged with a parting gift of flowers and a bottle of wine. And given how famously cheap his colleagues were, he fully expected the flowers to be plucked from beside a sewer and the wine found rolling across his own guild hall.


    ¡­ If he was lucky.


    Still, even if they bothered to dig into their coin purses to offer a man of his years the raucous farewell he deserved, he¡¯d still not have traded even the finest night which crowns could buy for the worst morning he could suffer.


    For one thing, if the guildmaster of Reitzlake cared for luxury, that chair would¡¯ve been the first thing to go. It was still as dented as the day he¡¯d first sat upon it. But it was the same chair his predecessor had sat on. And it would be the same for his replacement as well.


    Eventually.


    But not today.


    Adventuring was more than a profession. It was the expression of the soul. And his was as young as the tiny squirrels which liked to visit his hall.


    There was less flashing steel and barbed wit these days, of course. The song of battle had been largely replaced by the stony candour of politics, financial considerations and petty rivalries.


    But for the kingdom¡¯s most famed and slyest fox, he only grew into his element, his eyes alive with colour even as his hair turned grey. There was a certain joy in fending off the tuttings of headquarters which others failed to appreciate.


    However ¡­ that didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d forgotten the true joy of adventuring.


    The thrill of danger. The warmth of companionship. The breeze of the wide open world. All of it came together like a harmony to serenade his heart. Which was a problem.


    Because right now, Timon Quinsley only had the danger part.


    Most of it coming from his companions.


    Either side of him, Miranda Howe and Mathias Tebrim wore differing shades of ire and resignation as they peered upon what was most certainly a bad day in the making.


    A corridor filled to the brim with deadly goblin traps.


    It was a poor sign for their health. Even amongst traps, the ones made by goblins held a special ranking for their unnecessary flamboyancy. It wasn¡¯t enough that they incinerated intruders into ashes. They incinerated them into different colours of ashes.


    Given the expressions that Timon¡¯s two companions wore, they were about to volunteer to turn him into a shade even the goblins hadn¡¯t invented yet.


    ¡°I should have burned your message like I¡¯d planned,¡± said Mathias, his shoulders sagging. ¡°I want it noted that I became a guildmaster so I would never have to do this again. What exactly am I hiring adventurers for if I still need to get myself killed as if I¡¯m still a fresh-faced F-rank?¡±


    Timon chuckled.


    Some might ask him why he¡¯d brought Stermondt¡¯s guildmaster along. And he¡¯d have no answer. They were friends, enemies or rivals depending on the day of the week. But it kept them both on their toes.


    And hopefully away from death at the hands of something exploding.


    ¡°You hire F-ranks so that you do not need to climb your own rooftop to fetch cats. A much more dangerous proposition for you given the state of your guild hall. A feat I still applaud, by the way. To be in a town of craftsmen and not find a single labourer able to patch the size of your leaks is impressive.¡±


    ¡°Alas, Mr. Quinsley, all the good labourers have long fled. They caught wind that you¡¯d left the royal capital. As there¡¯s a one in four chance you would head east, they had the good prudence to leave.¡±


    ¡°One in four is much too respectable a figure. Given the size of the rats which spawn in your cellar, I¡¯m afraid that Stermondt¡¯s reputation as a travel destination continues to plummet. A shame you lost all that fog. It hid the blemishes well.¡±


    ¡°Quite the shame, indeed. The fog would have ensured the good labourers of Stermondt stayed, knowing your wrinkles would be hidden from their eyes.¡±


    ¡°¨CGentlemen, please.¡±


    Miranda Howe frowned.


    It was enough.


    ¡°I see Marinsgarde has certainly changed,¡± she said, turning everyone¡¯s attention back to the lethal corridor. ¡°The last time I was here, I don¡¯t recall there being a literal castle. Guildmaster Triniard was being lax with the details as usual.¡±


    ¡°Lax is that man¡¯s specialty,¡± said Mathias. ¡°It¡¯s a shock he even managed to cause this, given how little he leaves his chair. I see no reason why he shouldn¡¯t be here helping us fix this problem.¡±


    ¡°By all accounts, he¡¯s suffering more than us. Now that the nobles have finally caught wind of this atrocity, Hugo will need to sit through their demands for compensation. No doubt his replacement will be happy. Who¡¯s next in line?¡±


    ¡°I believe it¡¯s Tillie Pilton. Her stock has rapidly risen after the Hartzwiese incident. I hardly see why. It wasn¡¯t her adventurer who helped sort out that mess.¡±


    Timon snorted.


    ¡°True. It wasn¡¯t. And as someone who equally benefited from the same adventurer, how does that make you feel?¡±


    ¡°Delighted and deeply grateful, of course. Although I imagine my happiness fails to match yours. You must be pleased, having so efficiently stolen away Cedric Hall¡¯s own prized recruit. He¡¯ll scarcely have a token of acknowledgement.¡±


    ¡°You act as if I did it to wrong him. I promise that¡¯s not the case. I steal promising talent from everyone.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do,¡± said Miranda, her voice like a snapping whip. The beginnings of an argument ceased once more. ¡°But she isn¡¯t here. We are. And now we¡¯ve confirmed this most certainly goes beyond the remit of this ¡­ cultural exchange Hugo has agreed to. We must make a decision. How do we proceed?¡±


    Both pairs of eyes turned to Timon Quinsley.


    Although they were each the same rank, their statuses were as far apart as the wine selection at their respective bars. Timon might be wrapped in a travelling cloak so faded he looked more like a beggar than a guildmaster, but he was first among equals. The de facto leader of the Kingdom of Tirea¡¯s entire Adventurer¡¯s Guild. And that meant he had responsibilities.


    Such as rubbing it in the face of his juniors when they came cap in hand.


    ¡°We proceed,¡± he said with a smile.


    Groans answered him. But no complaints.


    After all, this was not a job for any ordinary adventurer. For it was not a matter of monsters or cats they were dealing with ¡­ even if they were often one and the same.


    No, this time, it was a matter of one of their own.


    Liliane Harten.


    Despite Hugo¡¯s letter, Timon hadn¡¯t quite prepared himself for the sight which awaited in Marinsgarde. Goblins as adventurers. And each recommended by Liliane. Unprecedented in this kingdom. That it was agreed was an obvious attempt by Hugo to raise his own standing.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    But it was also shortsighted and foolhardy.


    Goblins did not need to be adventurers. For what humans required a copper ring for, they did as a matter of course. They wandered the continent from the forests to the mountains, exploring what was still uncharted, hidden beneath shadow, leaf and stone.


    If they were adventurers, then there was very clearly a reason beyond the crowns they didn¡¯t need to earn. For what did goblins need of coins when they could already barter as well as any troll merchant?


    No ¡­ Guildmaster Triniard was correct to be concerned.


    Because in all the times he¡¯d personally met Liliane Harten, she¡¯d never once struck as the type to herald such an ambitious scheme. She was careful, polite and self-conscious. Rare and valuable traits for adventurers. And Timon very much doubted any sudden change boded for the better.


    Seeing what he did now, he knew it was all but certain.


    ¡°You¡¯re simply overjoyed that Hugo reached out to you, aren¡¯t you?¡± said Mathias.


    ¡°Of course I am. Our fellow guildmasters rarely do secrets. A letter sealed for my eyes only can mean only two things. An unannounced inspection is occurring, or something calamitous has happened. We should be grateful it¡¯s only something calamitous.¡±


    Miranda bit her lips as she gazed at the corridor to be crossed.


    Though the youngest amongst them, she looked the most experienced of all. A natural candour born from her noble ancestry.


    ¡°Yes, well, this doesn¡¯t disappoint,¡± she said. ¡°Even now, I¡¯m not certain what¡¯s more strange. That Liliane has lost the plot or the fact that you would deem it so alarming that you needed us as well.¡±


    ¡°It cannot be helped. If there are concerns regarding the conduct of one of their own, that would normally be a local matter. But an A-rank adventurer concerns the entire kingdom. And that means we all bear responsibility.¡±


    ¡°We know what you¡¯re doing, you old man. You wish for us all to be involved if this turns out horribly.¡±


    ¡°That I do. And still you came.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Both Mathias and I are not as free as you. We cannot afford to spend time at your funeral.¡±


    ¡°Your kind words never fail to warm my heart, Miranda.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Miranda raised her palms. ¡°Your muscles should be relaxed. I¡¯ll attempt to levitate us past. I believe we can avoid the majority of these traps if we simply take the high route. But it will be slow going if I¡¯m to hoist both of your egos.¡±


    Timon was about to point out only Mathias needed a helping hand. Great as his ego was, it still wasn¡¯t too heavy for his legs¨Cdespite what his stooped back might suggest.


    A moment later, it was something he needed to prove.


    The guildmasters turned their eyes towards the corridor behind them. Gone was the bickering of old colleagues as their words were swept away by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.


    And not just one.


    A stampede was approaching.


    ¡°Fast going it is, then,¡± said Miranda. ¡°[Major Levitate].¡±


    Magic swirled in the former B-rank mage¡¯s hands. Both she and Mathias rose. Even faster since her magic didn¡¯t need to be shared with Timon.


    The old man who walked with shunted steps did away with the guise which lacked only a walking stick. Faster than any spell which could be cast upon him, he leapt upwards, his soles finding the wall before propelling himself all the way up to the exposed ceiling beams.


    He was joined a moment later by Miranda and Mathias.


    At such a height, the magic expenditure meant neither the seasoned mage nor her burden could move. But none of them needed to. They simply needed to wait for that to pass.


    A horde of redcaps.


    Highly dangerous foes in their own right. What they lacked in size, they made up for in violence. Timon had seen what redcaps could do. And that was to their own summoner. Even now, he wasn¡¯t sure where all the blood came from.


    That was just a small group.


    Now it was an entire warband. A scene worthy of nightmares ¡­ and yet the gasps he heard from his colleagues were not for them.


    It was for the pair currently being chased by them.


    A clockwork doll. A rare enough sight in the Kingdom of Tirea. She smiled as nigh on every trap was triggered in the same corridor they¡¯d moments ago been discussing. The result was nothing short of unfettered carnage. A carnival of destruction which rose as high as Timon¡¯s ankles.


    All things a highly capable clockwork doll might be expected to evade ¡­ but not the girl beside her, no older than the youngest waitress a proprietor might trust not to break their plates.


    A girl who simply refused to be struck.


    One by one, the corridor came alive with death¡¯s glare as tiles clicked, cogs groaned and blades swung. But it was not with the breathlessness of desperation that she avoided it all. It was with the disdain of Timon disregarding the letters from headquarters.


    Saws, scythes and blades swished around her, joined by bursts of hellfire and the screaming of arrows.


    Even so, she didn¡¯t roll to and fro like a seasoned thief, nor did she deny the rush of death with a burst of magic or the swipe of a shield.


    She simply ¡­ skipped.


    Instruments which would have incinerated or decapitated an acrobat from the Cirque du Sable found only air. And if they were lucky, one of several afterimages. Such was the girl¡¯s absurd footwork, only a garuda could have tracked her. And she didn¡¯t even look like she was trying.


    In fact¨C


    ¡°The alpaca. I would give that toxic cloud shape a generous 7/10 ¡­ maybe 8/10.¡±


    She was having a conversation!


    Timon Quinsley was the longest serving guildmaster in the kingdom. And while few knew the truth of who he was before that, he had seen rogues so swift that elven blademasters seemed as sluggish as a drifting leaf. Most notably in a mirror.


    But this¨C


    This was something else.


    ¡°What ¡­¡± whispered Mathias, his complaints stopped at last. ¡°What am I seeing ... ?¡±


    It was a reasonable question.


    But although Timon also didn¡¯t know what he was seeing, he knew with every instinct of his being who he was seeing.


    He knew it as certain as the dark colour of her hair. The ruby pommel of the sword by her hip. The clockwork doll by her side. And an appearance which would have headquarters begging for her to grace their recruitment posters.


    It was her.


    Juliette.


    The Kingdom of Tirea¡¯s very own enigma.


    One whose name was apparently known to every receptionist. He was in Trierport when he received the A-rank certificate to be signed. A notion so absurd, so unprecedented and so certain to cause faces to pale at headquarters that he had no choice but to immediately accept.


    Especially since Mirabelle had practically threatened him with paperwork if he refused.


    The shock of seeing her landed harder than any of the explosions. So much so, that even as they faded and left only the scars in its wake, both Miranda and Mathias were already gawping amidst the flaming wreckage as he jumped down to join them.


    The chaos was complete.


    What had once been a corridor was now so vapourised that not even the original colour of the floor remained. Yet for all the embers, not a single eye was upon them. They were upon the backs which had vanished into the distance, lost amidst a cavern entrance.


    Miranda began to mouth a question. She needed a second to remember to vocalise words as well.


    ¡°Mr. Quinsley, was that ¡­ ?¡±


    Timon nodded in answer.


    There were questions to be asked. Highly pertinent ones, considering that redcaps were not summoned idly, and the only capable conjurer they were aware of was the very same they were hoping to query.


    But like all humans, they could only focus on what was before them. And that was the image of a girl who¡¯d casually waltzed through death while purposefully leading a chasing horde through it.


    ¡°... A fine display,¡± said Timon with a smile. ¡°Better than me at that age, certainly.¡±


    Mathias blinked, his astonishment only growing by the moment.


    ¡°Timon ¡­ is that who I think it is?¡±


    ¡°I believe so, yes. Although you¡¯d need Mirabelle to confirm it. They seem to be close knitted, after all. I should offer my receptionist more credit. Seeing such footwork, I¡¯m surprised she ever managed to catch up to her.¡±


    ¡°Did you know she was going to be here? Is this some scheme for us to judge her ourselves? ¡­ Because I don¡¯t think I am mad if it is.¡±


    Timon gave a hoarse laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯ve my hand in more schemes than I have fingers to spare, but this isn¡¯t one of them.¡±


    ¡°... Honestly?¡±


    ¡°Honestly. I didn¡¯t expect to find her here. But perhaps I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.¡±


    Mathias swallowed a gulp.


    ¡°It seems our presence might be unneeded, after all. I would say it was a waste to come here, but to see who dispelled the fog in my town is worth any trip. I¡¯m told she defeated both an A-rank cleric and a vampire under her thrall. I never could have imagined she was so young.¡±


    ¡°Youth is a strength, not a weakness. And her steps have yet to be dulled by the experience of defeat.¡±


    ¡°She must be here for the same reason as us,¡± said Miranda. ¡°I see now it¡¯s Hugo¡¯s turn to benefit. Do we offer our assistance?¡±


    Timon gave a hum.


    Ordinarily, it was nothing short of common sense for them to join hands. But nothing about that girl featured in any definition of the word.


    ¡°With our legs? I think not. She didn¡¯t navigate the kingdom from Rolstein to Hartzwiese by slowing her pace for guildmasters flailing in her wake.¡±


    ¡°We cannot do nothing.¡±


    ¡°I never said we would. Our task remains unchanged. It may just have become simpler.¡±


    ¡°... You wish to leave the matter of Liliane to her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve simply a mind not to interfere to all our detriment. Our role is to assist. And I believe currently, this is best achieved at a respectable distance.¡±


    Timon smiled as he led the way.


    The two with him traded sighs. But the usual snorts were absent.


    After all, they were each of the same mind. The same curiosity. Disbelieving their own eyes, they wished to see even more how this mysterious young adventurer fared in the darkness ahead.


    And a goblin cavern was about as dark as they got.

 Chapter 336: One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows

    Timon Quinsley didn¡¯t miss this part.


    He missed it even less now that his eyes were worse.


    Inside the goblin cave, everything which existed to remind him of his warm office glinted beneath the rare bouts of light. There was romance in adventuring, of course. In the sunlight streaming through a forest canopy, in the glittering of a starry sky and in the crackling of a campfire.


    But none of it could be found here.


    ¡°[Eye Of The Seeker]¡±.


    Before him, Miranda Howe called forth a spectral eye to follow the footsteps of the pair in front.


    Ensuring they remained at a healthy distance, the three guildmasters played a dance they hadn¡¯t performed for many years. Even so, it was one which came as naturally to them as declining the discretionary bonuses their adventurers felt they deserved after every commission. Even if they failed.


    As Miranda focused on concealing her magic, both Timon Quinsley and Mathias Tebrim helped to ensure that their very particular mage didn¡¯t step into any water slimes. The guildmaster of Eisenwaldt with a will as steely as her town was known for many things, but the ability to endure slightly wet soles was seemingly just beyond her reach.


    Timon quite liked that about her. Although he¡¯d never say it.


    He valued the grey hair he had left.


    Quietly, with only the minimum of whispers to confirm their quarry remained in front, the seasoned trio shook away the dust upon their bones as they relived the footsteps they¡¯d taken in a different cave somewhere multiple times in the past.


    Only when the faint murmurings of voices could be heard did they stop. They waited for the echoes to vanish once again. This time, they didn¡¯t.


    ¡°They¡¯ve stopped,¡± said Mathias. ¡°Dare we see why?¡±


    Miranda nodded. She sent her spectral eye forwards.


    A bead of sweat was already falling down her temple. Her [Eye Of The Seeker] was not a simple spell, and ensuring it remained hidden was even less so.


    ¡°There¡¯s a treasure chest,¡± she said simply, before her brows dented. ¡°... Mimic.¡±


    Both Mathias and Timon traded groans. They hushed themselves at once.


    Every single adventurer past D-rank had experiences with mimics. And none of them pleasant. By and large, they weren¡¯t the most dangerous of monsters. But to be assailed by a mimic¡¯s tongue was a sensation which only magefire and therapy could cure.


    It was not a danger for A-rank adventurers ¡­ but this girl had climbed the ranks at a pace which outdid all known records. The only concern to Timon was that what was considered a past experience to others of her rank might just be the first experience for her.


    ¡°... And?¡± asked Mathias. ¡°Is she ignoring it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s opening the mimic?¡±


    ¡°Still no. She appears to be pushing it. Towards a ledge.¡±


    Mathias nodded at once.


    ¡°Hm. So opting to remove it instead. And not even by destroying it. Highly prudent. She must know that when mimics are destroyed, the treasure within bursts outwards like an explosion.¡±


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°... AAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh ¡­¡±


    A bellowing, girlish scream filled the cavern.


    ¡°What in the hells was that?¡± asked Mathias, hand going to his sword.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± replied Miranda plainly, tilting her head as she navigated her spectral eye. ¡°Wait a moment, I need to fix this. The high pitch of the scream shook my spellwork.¡±


    Silence abounded as the men waited for an update on what horrific monstrosity required their attention. It was several minutes before they received their answer.


    ¡°... Hm. Now this is a surprise. Thomas¡¯s prot¨¦g¨¦ is here.¡±


    ¡°Thomas¡¯s?¡± Mathias blinked as he searched for a name. ¡°¡­ Wait, you mean the Oxwell boy?¡±


    ¡°The very same. He appears to have a cat on his head.¡±


    ¡°What is he doing here? The girl is one thing. But he cannot possibly know about Liliane as well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m uncertain. But it appears as if they¡¯re already acquainted. At the very least, the girl seems pleased to meet him. She¡¯s laughing quite ¡­ violently.¡±


    ¡°Violently?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t explain it. But it looks rather theatrical. They seem to be on good terms.¡±


    A mystery within a mystery.


    One which nobody had the answer to.


    Timon indulged in his thoughts.


    The most accomplished new adventurer and now the student of Thomas Lainsfont. How in the world they would already know each other was inexplicable to him. But if this girl was associated with Thomas Lainsfont, it would explain much. And yet there was no scenario in which a man very much not inclined to teaching would take on two students.


    ¡°A strange thing,¡± he said, his amused voice almost inaudible. ¡°It appears everybody has become acquainted with my own adventurer before I have. Next I¡¯ll be told even the Snow Dancer knows her.¡±


    Mathias snorted.


    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, half of your adventurers wish they didn¡¯t know you.¡±


    ¡°Hoo. That one almost stung. Keep at it, and maybe you¡¯ll draw out a pity smile before I die.¡±


    ¡°Gen-tle-men.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°¡°Sorry.¡±¡±


    A simultaneous apology met Miranda¡¯s hard smile as she briefly broke from her spell. She returned as the voices vanished into the distance.


    The guildmasters were silent in their own deliberations as they proceeded onwards, following the distant echoes. They delved past things darker than shadows and dead things pretending to be alive, until soon, even Timon¡¯s thoughts were turning back to original matters at hand.


    These caves were far more extensive than he could have predicted. Guildmaster Triniard was more than lax. He was wilfully blind¨Cas was much of Marinsgarde, their eyes veiled by the roaring trade in items that the Holy Church would no doubt issue a very stern protest regarding.


    Items he could have used.


    Even so, it wasn¡¯t the lack of light which caused him to almost stumble. It was the concerns regarding Liliane¡¯s abrupt turn of personality. He¡¯d seen it before, of course. As an adventurer, a guildmaster, and something else far less principled. Yet few times did he feel as certain in his unease as now.


    He hoped very much this was a misunderstanding.


    In which case, a pointed word or two was all that was required.


    If not, well¨C


    Improvisation would be necessary.


    ¡°Bugbear,¡± said Miranda suddenly.


    The guildmasters slowed, but didn¡¯t pause.


    Somewhere, the sound of conversation hinted at life in the darkness. And not all of it from the two adventurers and their clockwork assistant. Soon it became clearer. The voice of a bugbear, boasting the naturally stern tone which made it seem like they were permanently disgruntled.


    Usually because they were.


    ¡°A patrol?¡± asked Mathias.


    ¡°No, stationary ¡­ a single bugbear guarding an entrance. Heavily armed.¡±


    ¡°A bugbear champion, then. The pick of the bunch. Not the merriest news.¡±


    Miranda frowned, her lips pursing.


    ¡°It seems the Oxwell boy is aware of that. He appears utterly ¡­ well, bewildered.¡±


    The guildmaster of Reitzlake nodded.


    Confusion was all too common a response when suddenly facing a superior foe. The fear came immediately afterwards.


    ¡°What of our adventurer?¡± he asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s engaging in dialogue with the bugbear. It doesn¡¯t appear favourable. Should we assist?¡±


    Timon briefly closed his eyes.


    Normally, he¡¯d not think twice about declining. The girl had doubtless faced worse.


    But the Oxwell boy shouldn¡¯t be here ¡­ and he was Thomas¡¯s lad, no matter what the kingdom¡¯s least sociable barkeeper said. He didn¡¯t want to imagine what would happen to his next drink if he allowed the boy to permanently gain a dent on his forehead.


    After a moment of thought, he nodded.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s do that,¡± he said lightly.


    All of a sudden, the bad leg which had long healed was forgotten.


    Betraying the lightest of footsteps, Timon skipped forwards until he was glancing past the corner. What he saw there was a sight which would give any adventurer reason to pause.


    A bugbear arrayed with more weapons than he had arms to use ¡­ and that wasn¡¯t even counting the warhammer stuck in the ground like a sign nobody could misunderstand.


    ¡°... I can immobilise him,¡± said Miranda, extinguishing her [Eye Of The Seeker] as she followed. ¡°Mathias, how do you fare with your sword now?¡±


    ¡°Less well than 20 years ago,¡± admitted the former C-rank just behind her.


    ¡°That will do. Mr. Quinsley?¡±


    Timon¡¯s answer was to hold his hand up.


    ¡°Wait. Something¡¯s happening.¡±


    His fellow guildmasters joined him in peeking past the corner.


    Frowns, uncertainty and apprehension flickered across each of their faces as the bugbear stilled. Yet in an instant, their expressions turned to dismay as the warhammer was suddenly lifted.


    Miranda clicked her tongue. A pale light appeared in her palms at the same time that a throwing knife appeared between Mathias¡¯s fingers.


    Only Timon didn¡¯t move.


    A moment later, neither did his colleagues. They could only gawp instead.


    Fwump.


    Because without a single movement from the girl ¡­ a bugbear sturdy enough to ram down a building wildly stumbled backwards, before dropping like a marionette severed at the strings.


    Just like that.


    The song of battle had come to an end before the first string was even plucked.


    The three guildmasters blinked in unison.


    No words were exchanged between them. But none were needed. Their open mouths were enough.


    At least for a moment.


    ¡°What in the abyss just happened?¡± whispered Mathias, as they each hurriedly retreated behind their corner. ¡°Did she just take down a bugbear ¡­ with what? Magic?¡±


    The almost childish look of shock on his face was enough to shave a decade¡¯s worth of wrinkles. It was shared by Miranda, whose usual seriousness was lost amidst her brows dented in confusion.


    ¡°There was no magic there. I¡¯m sure of it. It was just ¡­ nothing.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t have been nothing. I just saw a young girl bring down a bugbear so large I wouldn¡¯t dare go drinking against him, much less fight. How did she do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m uncertain. Perhaps if I had my [Eye Of The Seeker] still active, I would have seen something.¡±


    ¡°That something had to be interference. She didn¡¯t even draw her sword.¡±


    Suddenly, Timon Quinsley let out a short note of amusement. His eyes glimmered with life as he turned to his colleagues. Neither of them wanted to look at him and the smirk to come.


    ¡°... Is that what you think now, Mathias?¡± he asked, the satisfaction clear in his tone. ¡°Can you truly say for certain the girl didn¡¯t draw her sword?¡±


    Stermondt¡¯s guildmaster blinked. A moment later, his open mouth only widened further.


    ¡°You cannot be serious.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I am.¡± Timon nodded seriously, even as the edges of his lips curled upwards. ¡°That girl ¡­ drew her sword so fast none of us could see it.¡±


    Quiet gasps met the veteran guildmaster¡¯s declaration.


    No challenge came his way.


    After all, they¡¯d all seen it with their own eyes. Or rather, they hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen something like this before,¡± said Timon, forehead wrinkling as distant memories were rekindled in his mind. ¡°A strike so swift it appears as though the blade never left the sheath.¡±


    Mathias slowly nodded, even as a frown appeared.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen it as well ¡­ although not nearly as clean. And even then, it required great concentration and form. The girl didn¡¯t assume any kind of ready posture. She was just ¡­ standing there.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, while many claim to possess the ability to draw faster than an owl can track, few can do it as swift as a sudden breeze ¡­ yet that doesn¡¯t mean they do not exist.¡±


    ¡°The elves, you mean.¡±


    Timon grinned.


    ¡°Indeed. It¡¯s said that only elven sword singers know it. Those who have dedicated a thousand years to perfecting the art of the blade, all to wield a sword technique unbeholden to the laws of this world.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of that as well,¡± said Miranda, her brows furrowing more than ever. ¡°Even elven mages speak of such a thing at times. Are you saying that was it?¡±


    A small chuckle was her reply, followed by a casual shrug.


    ¡°Who knows? It¡¯s the pinnacle of swordsmanship. Yet even a faint mirror of it would be beyond our eyes to see. They call it ¡­ the [One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] strike, for ten thousand is the number of lives that the blade once drawn can claim in the time that a single leaf drifts down from a branch.¡±


    Miranda shook her head in disbelief.


    ¡°[One Leaf, One Whisper, Ten Thousand Sorrows] ¡­ even the name is preposterous. If what we saw was anything close to that, then where ¡­ how could such a young girl have learned it?¡±


    Silence answered on everyone¡¯s behalf.


    Nobody knew. But perhaps nobody was meant to.


    After all, in only a short span of time, the girl had shown both prudence and strength beyond those many times her age. It was little wonder why she was a favourite amongst the receptionists, whose words carried as much weight as the guildmasters they represented.


    There was no doubt that soon, even their praise wouldn¡¯t be needed.


    Her name was Juliette.


    And as Timon Quinsley peeked around the corner with a smile of delight to watch his charge hopping away from the fallen bugbear, he knew with absolute certainty that she would strive earnestly to raise the Adventurer¡¯s Guild to its greatest heights yet.

 Chapter 337: A Lost Soul

    The cavern sparkled with the promise of crowns.


    The light from my sword fought against the bright glare of luminous moonlilies growing like moss upon every surface. Even a hundred lanterns would have dimmed in comparison. The flowers lit up a carpet of dust hovering in the air like snow, yet it was the veins of silver which glowed the brightest.


    They streaked across the wall like a beautiful constellation.


    A starry sky which perfectly reflected my smile as I imagined rolling in the many pillows I¡¯d be commissioning as my first purchase. I could already see it now. A pit so deep that my knights would have to learn to swim in order to retrieve me.


    And if anybody asked me how deep that actually was, well¨C


    I could simply point at this.


    Clink. Clink. Clink.


    Before me was a quarry stretching all the way to the end of the cavern.


    A sight which would cause the Miner¡¯s Guild to tremble in fear.


    Unlike the quarries they made and then snoozed in while dreaming of the funds they were claiming from the Royal Treasury, this one was being dug until the sound of labour could permanently bounce from wall to wall.


    More goblins than I could count did their part to exude unhealthy amounts of sweat as they ignored every health and safety regulation which wasn¡¯t explicitly written on a sign.


    Pickaxes and shovels noisily worked to trigger an avalanche. Wooden platforms creaked despite the absence of any weight. Laden carts went their own way without being pushed. And the smell of ordinary goblin cooking wafted from a cauldron in order to threaten those with the least productivity.


    Naturally, this was unacceptable.


    As much as I enjoyed my kingdom¡¯s infrastructure being expanded upon, the fact remained that this was as illegal as any dwarven mining colony. If anybody wished to cooperate with my family, it needed to be above board. That meant a banquet more lavish than anyone could pay, promises nobody would keep and bags of gold being tossed at us at the same breathless rate as lies told by our nobility.


    However, while I had my complaints, it wasn¡¯t regarding the work ethic on display.


    The carts running over the feet of unobservant goblins were filled to the brim¨Cand not all of them with soil and stone. More than once, I caught the glint of silver being deliberately hoisted away to where the shadows were thickest.


    Where they were going was an issue. But one which would only be a problem for the goblins tasked with bringing them back.


    Eventually.


    Because right now, I had other concerns ¡­ such as staring in disbelief at the only possible thing which could draw my attention away from a crater filled with goblins.


    Caban¡¯s Tavern.


    Yes.


    The more I looked, the more my eyes narrowed.


    There, written plainly upon a lopsided sign, was an ordinary tavern.


    Notched wooden walls. Crumbling stone. Window shutters which didn¡¯t fully join properly. A door which spilled out all the warmth from within. And a chimney which was even more wonky than the sign.


    Three floors high if including the rooftop, it was the most mundane tavern I¡¯d ever seen. The exact same tavern which doubtless possessed a creaking ceiling already filled with dancing mice.


    And it was here.


    In the bottom of a mountain.


    The fact that it was so ordinary only made it even more out of place.


    All the more so as the sound of hooliganism was also being emitted from within.


    The sound of sporadic cackling was mixed with the noise of clinking cups. The orange glow of a hearthfire from the windows fought against the glow of the surrounding moonlilies, ensuring that every errant adventurer knew where to relax after a day of criminal enterprising.


    It even had a stable.


    Complete with hay ¡­ and no horses.


    I simply stared.


    There was nothing which could be said.


    At least not by me.


    Instead, both Coppelia and I slowly turned to the commoner in our midst.


    His explanation came in the form of his wide mouth imitating a hungry goldfish. His eyes were somehow even wider. They stared unendingly at the sight of a tavern so commonplace that were this the streets of Marinsgarde, I¡¯d be struggling to remember if it was the one I¡¯d left Apple in.


    After a moment, he simply nodded.


    ¡°... Wow,¡± he said.


    I waited for more.


    That was it.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I said, pointing at the sign. ¡°But this is your name, yes?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and how is business?¡±


    The man blinked.


    ¡°I dunno. I never knew I owned a tavern. Damn. I actually made it. I need to tell my mother.¡±


    He paused.


    ¡°... I¡¯m not really sure about the name, though,¡± he admitted, leaning back slightly. ¡°It feels a bit, I don¡¯t know ¡­ self-centered?¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± I tilted my head in thought. ¡°... It feels appropriate, though? If you¡¯re to establish your own enterprise, I see no reason why you shouldn¡¯t use your own name. That makes it clearer who to tax.¡±


    ¡°Yeah ¡­ Yeah, I guess you¡¯re right.¡±


    Coppelia leaned forwards with a smile of utmost enthusiasm.


    ¡°Uwaaah~ your tiny kingdom sure knows its priorities, huh? No matter where you go, your peasants can still get drunk!¡±


    ¡°My kingdom isn¡¯t tiny,¡± I duly replied. ¡°It¡¯s as vast as the cumulonimbus clouds which often rise from Clarise¡¯s observatory. This ¡­ This is simply a measure of its popularity. To expect guests in even the most farflung of locations is proof of its burgeoning tourism industry.¡±


    ¡°Your kingdom sure is popular with goblins then, huh? It sounds like a full house.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose it does.¡±


    I sighed into my palms.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    A moment later, I threw up my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°... Why is there a tavern here?! Was it necessary to build this?! If an adventurer wants to scheme in my kingdom, does it have to involve alcohol?!¡±


    The commoner gave a small cough.


    He followed it up with an apologetic shrug.


    ¡°Home sweet home, I guess.¡±


    I let out a small groan.


    Then, I clenched my fists and hardened my resolve.


    To walk into the midst of a common tavern was frankly worse than any cave I could explore. But while I could accept scheming, plotting and conniving, I couldn¡¯t accept this.


    An illegal drinking establishment.


    That¡¯s right!


    How ¡­ How dare this woman flagrantly seek to evade my kingdom¡¯s laws by hiding a tavern beneath the ground!


    It was utterly brazen¨Cno, it was brazen and irresponsible!


    Taverns were as profitable as they were rowdy! That meant great care needed to be considered before any new ones were built! There was a delicate ecosystem between taxes and the number of drunkards who debased my streets! Did she think I wouldn¡¯t notice the vomit just because it occurred underground? My sense of smell was so sensitive that goblins learned to wrinkle their noses from me!


    ¡°This has gone beyond anything I could have imagined,¡± I said, frowning at the inviting fa?ade of a common tavern. ¡°Had I known my kingdom was so imperiled, I wouldn¡¯t have tarried for even a single cr¨ºpe ¡­ I will not stand by it!¡±


    Coppelia hopped in joy, clapping her hands.


    ¡°Wooooo! Let¡¯s bother all the goblins who are trying to relax!¡±


    I nodded at once.


    Frankly, an adventurer running a tavern did nothing for their reputation. There was no scenario which didn¡¯t end up with everything on fire. And while that didn¡¯t usually concern me, it did if it came at the cost of the Royal Treasury.


    Anybody who wished to open a tavern needed permission and more permits than they had tables. To sidestep this was the most disgraceful of crimes!


    Thus, I strolled over at once.


    Creaaaaaak.


    A door promptly groaned as though it¡¯d always been here. As I stepped inside, I was welcomed by an even more familiar sight.


    Utter stillness.


    The chatter stopped at once.


    Mugs, bottles and bowls filled with brown stuff froze in hands as a common room fully occupied with goblins stared at me. The silence was complete. And no wonder. For some reason, even the unidentifiable stains on the floor were there.


    That alone was worth more grief than words could offer. Yet as every pair of eyes stared at me, memories of a night I¡¯d walked into a bar to similarly stunned fanfare flashed in my mind.


    Indeed, my presence in any drinking establishment was likely to cause nothing less than stunned confusion over why I¡¯d threaten my soles.


    ¡­ Fortunately, I wasn¡¯t the same princess who¡¯d last climbed down the oak tree outside my bedroom!


    I was different now. Prettier. Wiser. Younger.


    And that meant I understood subtlety.


    This time ¡­ I wouldn¡¯t introduce myself!


    ¡°You.¡± I clicked my fingers towards the nearest goblin. ¡°I¡¯m searching for an errant adventurer. I¡¯m told she wears a magic hat and is now officially your leader. I¡¯m here to remove her. Where can she be found?¡±


    The goblin blinked at me.


    He looked at the mug of frothy alcohol in his hand, sniffed it, then looked up once more.


    ¡­ Seeing I was still there, he then slowly pointed at the nearby stairs.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said with a warm smile. ¡°Please enjoy your drinks.¡±


    I left the common room filled with overwhelming emotion at my gentleness behind as I swiftly made my way up the stairs, all the while Coppelia merrily waved and the commoner nodded awkwardly at every other goblin. A moment later, I swiftly climbed to the 2nd floor, pausing to see a smaller group of goblins busying themselves with arranging furniture. I pointed upstairs queryingly. They stared before slowly nodding.


    And that was that.


    I made my way up to the top floor of the tavern.


    A moment later, I smiled as the end of this needless affair awaited me.


    There she was.


    The only human amidst a tavern filled with relaxing goblins.


    And also a proprietor clearly waiting for her income to settle.


    She stood in the middle of a floor barren of everything other than a corner sparsely furnished with a bed more narrow than a sofa, a desk rescued from a bonfire and a stool borrowed from the bar downstairs. Only a single potted fern served as decoration.


    Facing a window with her back turned, she was surveying a map in her hands, blind to both our presence and the lack of amenities on this floor.


    She also wore a ghastly headpiece upon her auburn hair. A band of iron that¡¯d been stretched, bashed or chewed to such an extent it now retained value as a mocking gift.


    ¡°Is that her ¡­ ?¡± I asked, turning behind me.


    The adventurer crouching on the stairs nodded.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s her,¡± he said quietly, his brows dented. ¡°The lady of the hour, right there.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± I leaned forwards slightly. ¡°She seems a bit ¡­ plain.¡±


    ¡°Well, in Miss Harten¡¯s defence, we aren¡¯t used to being the bad guys.¡±


    ¡°Clearly not. If she¡¯s going to insist on requisitioning a tribe of goblins to do her ill-deeds, then she needs to at least look the part. Where is the sceptre? The cloak which runs through multiple rooms? The hissing at the tired peons who aren¡¯t quite sweating enough?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s the next stage. Which is good. We¡¯ve still a chance to resolve this the right way. I¡¯ve a suggestion, if I may.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Please go ahead.¡±


    The man straightened his knees by half an inch. Determination shone in his eyes.


    ¡°Right, well, I reckon we can leave the questions for later¨Conce Miss Harten is free of that crown. I don¡¯t want anyone to be hurt over this, least of all one of my own. Of course, the same goes for these goblins as well. So I¡¯ll try to swipe that headpiece without any of us coming to blows. I can be subtle when I want. Not quite sure what¡¯ll happen when I do, but I¡¯m confident I can run faster than any spell at my back. And if I¡¯m caught, well ¡­ that still means I¡¯ll have a chance to roll the conversation dice. At the very least, I¡¯ll be a distraction for you. If this goes wrong, you can either run or improvise depending on what you think is best.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Ohohoho ... a bold suggestion. To take on personal risk solely to avoid harm to your princess is both valiant and appropriate. However, I¡¯ve a better solution.¡±


    The man looked uncertainly at me.


    I hardly saw why. He only knew me as a delicate and gentle princess. Because I was.


    ¡°... Uh, you do? What would that be?¡±


    I pointed with Starlight Grace.


    ¡°[Spring Breeze].¡±


    Poomph.


    The effect was immediate.


    Auburn hair went billowing upwards, along with a crown as the startled woman immediately stumbled forwards. She caught herself upon the edge of the window. The crown she¡¯d worn bounced against the wall, leaving a dent before rolling harmlessly in the middle of the floor.


    I smiled in satisfaction.


    Why, at this distance, punting away an unwieldy crown was even easier than a caterpillar! If all I needed to do was remove it, then the lightest of breezes was more than sufficient!


    Indeed, it was so simple that the woman could do nothing but stare like a lost lamb as she turned around, now happily freed from a cursed magic hat she was wholly liable for.


    She was, in fact, so happy that she couldn¡¯t even keep herself together.


    Literally.


    Crack.


    She crumbled.


    Like a dry gateau moelleux au beurre, the woman disintegrated into innumerable pieces, her attire and skin sharing the same fractures before she became nothing more than the dust around us.


    Peeking their heads past me, Coppelia nodded approvingly while the commoner¡¯s jaw dropped in horror.


    They weren¡¯t the only ones with a response.


    ¡°Oh, welcome to my tavern!¡±


    We all turned as one.


    There, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was a woman still very much whole and with a crown upon her head. And unlike her crumbled version, she was surrounded by a visible barrier of crackling magic.


    ¡°¡­ Or rather, Mr. Oxwell¡¯s tavern,¡± she continued. ¡°My apologies, I actually hoped to keep this a surprise until later. Gosh, I didn¡¯t expect to see you leave the bar. Did you bring the kegs I asked for?¡±


    She tilted her head and waited.


    There was a youthfulness in her expression. In the brightness of her smile. The sort of faux joy carried by seasoned barmaids and con artists alike.


    I barely saw it.


    For despite the hue of warmth upon her cheeks, there was not a single speck to be found in her eyes.


    They were as lost as carcasses washed up on a shore.


    ¡°Ah, the kegs,¡± said the commoner, defaulting at once to an awkward smile. ¡°You know what, I knew I was forgetting something. I must have left them just outside. In my bar. That I¡¯m still meant to be in.¡±


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s a pity. But I see you¡¯ve brought friends instead. It¡¯s wonderful to meet you both. Can I help you, by any chance?¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°That remains to be seen. Are you the adventurer I¡¯m looking for?¡±


    ¡°Quite possibly. My name is Liliane Harten.¡±


    ¡°I see ... and you¡¯re A-rank?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes.¡±


    I leaned in slightly closer.


    Although she smiled, nothing was there. Neither recognition nor emotion. She was a husk without a soul, lost to the abyss of some unseen darkness. A vampire could have sucked out her blood to the last drop and she¡¯d be less drained.


    In that moment, all thoughts of ire departed me at once. And I was instead filled with an overwhelming sense of pity, sympathy and understanding.


    My hand slowly went to my mouth.


    This poor woman.


    Why ¡­ just how often had she been promoted against her will as well ¡­ ?!

 Chapter 338: A Crown’s Worth

    A tavern filled with wide-eyed goblins stared.


    In the middle of a common room so true to life that every corner was indistinguishable from the bar itself, a table was currently occupied by a princess, a clockwork doll and a pair of adventurers.


    Amidst the silence, a single cough sounded before it was hurriedly covered. A tiny clink was heard as a tankard was lowered by the arm straining to hold it aloft. And the world¡¯s smallest sip filled the air as a goblin dared to enjoy his beverage before the last of the foam died away.


    None else dared to disturb the silence.


    The only movement came from those at the table.


    Coppelia leaned down to sniff at the surface of her drink. She smiled warmly, then slowly pushed it away with her pinky towards the commoner sitting across from her.


    A moment later, she proceeded to exchange it with the fruit cordial clasped between his hands.


    The man in question made no complaint, his eyes wider and lips more pursed than any of the observing goblins as he diligently avoided eye contact with his smiling colleague sitting next to him. Instead, he focused all his attention on an orange, black and white cat as it stalked the legs of everyone present.


    The woman with auburn hair wasn¡¯t fussed. She instead busied herself with slowly downing a glass of wine drawn from the same kegs that the ales came from.


    All the while ¡­ I simply stared.


    Directly in her face.


    Leaning across the table while ignoring Coppelia exchanging cordials under my tummy, I narrowed my eyes as I studiously assessed the smile in front of me.


    Eerie and devoid of emotion.


    It was a smile I saw often, usually in the corners of a soir¨¦e as the envious conspired against one another instead of their combined poverty. But this was no freshly raised baroness I found scheming in the depths of my kingdom.


    It was an adventurer whose soul had clearly been stretched by the indignity of her profession.


    Indeed ¡­ here was the result of someone who¡¯d clearly harassed too many cats relaxing in trees.


    If there was once hope in her eyes, it was now as far gone as chivalry in a Reitzlake alley.


    Fortunately, I wasn¡¯t just a beautiful princess!


    I was an extremely beautiful princess¨Cand thus my worldly advice would light the way!


    ¡°... 26 hours,¡± I declared to the woman with the empty smile.


    In response, she tilted her head slightly.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°26 hours. This is the amount of sleep I¡¯m officially prescribing you. You¡¯re to sleep for 26 hours a day for a minimum of 2 ¡­ no, 3 months.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s only 24 hours in a day.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. That¡¯s how hard you need to sleep. If you wake up and you don¡¯t see goblins elbowing each other to decide who has to check your pulse, you need to return to sleep.¡±


    An impression of polite confusion met me. Like a caricature drawn by a hermit who only knew emotions through a dictionary.


    Then, she glanced around her.


    A cacophony of chatter, clinking cups and sliding chairs immediately filled the tavern as every goblin simultaneously busied themselves with avoiding being placed on pulse checking duty. That was understandable. It was the worst job there was.


    Whichever underpaid minion was responsible for checking pulses was also responsible for telling the results. Nobody wanted to be the bearer of bad news.


    After all, their employers were usually alive.


    ¡°Oh, I see. Thank you for the advice. But I¡¯m not too sure what a prescription of 26 hours of sleep is intended to cure. Rather, I think such an amount might be actively detrimental.¡±


    ¡°For those who lack a busy schedule, perhaps. But for anyone who decides to requisition a goblin tribe for ¡­ whatever reason I¡¯m braced to already forget, it¡¯s the absolute minimum requirement. Have you seen yourself in a mirror recently?¡±


    ¡°I have, yes. Oh¨Cand would you like a snack?¡±


    ¡°No, thank you.¡±


    ¡°I want a snack,¡± said Coppelia, raising a hand.


    The woman waved towards the bar. A goblin barkeeper slowly approached, his eyes the size of dinner plates as he offered a bowl of mixed nuts. Coppelia accepted with a grateful nod, then proceeded to nibble away while watching the proceedings.


    ¡°I noticed you destroyed my [Crystal Reflection],¡± said the errant adventurer, setting her glass of wine down. ¡°That didn¡¯t seem necessary. Liliane #2 was doing an excellent job in overseeing the excavation efforts.¡±


    ¡°You should be relieved, then. I¡¯ve just saved you from untold grief.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°As ideal as a magical duplicate might seem so that you may sleep while it sweats in your place, the laws of creation and poor humour dictates that any twin can and will inevitably take your place.¡±


    Coppelia nodded as fast as a hummingbird, all the while tossing peanuts in her mouth.


    A warning to be acknowledged. If someone from the land of oddballs understood the dangers of body doubles, then so should everyone else.


    That was lesson #87 in the Princess¡¯s Guidebook To Survival.


    Incidentally, this woman was also failing lesson #16.


    Not to wear cursed magical artifacts promising unchecked power.


    ¡°... Now, I don¡¯t care why you decided to wear a goblin¡¯s favourite magic hat,¡± I said simply. ¡°I care even less how that evolved into plotting your own goblin conspiracy. All I care about is that you cease and desist trying to take over the world so that historians don¡¯t need to needlessly choke from laughter. They work very hard to write a biased account in my favour and are difficult to replace.¡±


    The woman blinked at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to take over the world.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°That sounds appalling. I¡¯d never do such a thing.¡±


    ¡°... Truly?¡±


    ¡°Truly.¡±


    ¡°Have you at least considered it?¡±


    ¡°No ¡­ why would I?¡±


    I let out a small groan.


    Just like that, any spark of interest fluttered away to the horizon of disappointment.


    ¡°... Do you see this?¡± I turned to Coppelia with a flick of my wrist. ¡°This right here. This is precisely the reason adventurers are not designed to be villains. What happened to standards?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ it¡¯s awful, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s worse than that. It¡¯s a travesty. This woman has a cave, a small horde of disloyal minions and a cursed magical artifact. These are the three essential building blocks of establishing an evil empire. And here she is, making them dig a hole and drink in a tavern instead.¡±


    ¡°Evil is a talent. Not a life skill. You can¡¯t blame her.¡±


    ¡°This is more than a lack of talent. It¡¯s a lack of effort. Who¡¯s she trying to frighten with this ridiculous scheme? Rival tavernkeepers?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to frighten tavernkeepers,¡± said the worst evil empress on the continent, frowning ever so slightly. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to frighten anyone. I¡¯m an adventurer. Not a villain.¡±


    I instantly raised a finger in the same way my mathematics tutor did.


    Except unlike her, my explanation would make sense.


    ¡°That is unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re to draw me into the depths of a cave, then your scheme must be shameless. It must be decadent. It must be a mille-feuille layered with so much cream that the cows are now on strike. This? This is a sponge cake with no strawberries, no icing and no quivering servant trying to mathematically calculate how to fit it on a table deliberately too small to accommodate it. Even this tavern undermines you. Why illegally requisition a tribe of goblins only to provide them with free snacks? It¡¯s extremely half-hearted. If you wish to be a despot, you must do it properly.¡±


    A genuine hue of indignation rose upon the woman¡¯s cheeks.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a despot. I take my responsibilities as the human representative of this tribe extremely seriously.¡±


    ¡°Better,¡± I said with a click of my fingers. ¡°Claim ignorance as you earn the ire of the goblin matriarchs. If nothing else, it will humour them. Do it enough and after 50 years, perhaps they¡¯ll take pity over the fact you decided to measure the size of your scalp using an obviously cursed crown.¡±


    The woman straightened her back. Her brows dented at once.


    ¡°The crown isn¡¯t cursed. Obviously or otherwise.¡±


    I turned to Coppelia at once. She was already humming while leaning forwards.


    ¡°Hmmmmm ¡­ it¡¯s not vomiting evil. But it¡¯s so shiny my eyes hurt. It¡¯s a really powerful artifact. I¡¯m pretty sure it wasn¡¯t made for normal humans to wear. At least not without exploding.¡±


    ¡°There you have it,¡± said the woman, her clap of joy ignoring almost every word Coppelia said. ¡°Yes, I understand this looks poor on my part, but rest assured that I¡¯m very much not beholden to any evil thoughts. I¡¯m only doing what is best for Marinsgarde.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    "I see ¡­ and is that what the ominous voice in your head told you?¡±


    The woman paused.


    ¡°There¡¯s no ominous voice in my mind,¡± she said, blinking.


    The commoner beside me gingerly held up his hand, breaking free from the chair he was blending into.


    ¡°Right, uh ¡­ I¡¯m actually pretty sure I¡¯ve heard you speaking to someone who wasn¡¯t there before.¡±


    ¡°Because I have nobody else to speak to. It¡¯s perfectly normal to voice my thoughts out loud.¡±


    ¡°You have eyes like a salmon staring out of a cooking pot,¡± pointed out Coppelia.


    ¡°My loyal handmaiden just insinuated you look like a broiling fish. What is your defence?¡±


    ¡°My eyes are fine,¡± said the woman with the smallest click of her tongue. ¡°They¡¯ve simply been opened. After all, it¡¯s more than magic that the creator of this crown imparted on me. It¡¯s knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Knowledge? Knowledge about what? ¡­ How to be laughed out of public spaces? That crown is ghastly. Why is it so bent? Was it forged by a blacksmith¡¯s hammer or the hooves of my horse?¡±


    The errant adventurer raised her chin slightly.


    ¡°Its appearance is irrelevant. This is a crown of empowerment, crafted by an archmage of overwhelming talent.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose that explains everything. Archmage of overwhelming talent rarely means archmage of overwhelming disposable income. But that¡¯s hardly a reason to be frugal. I¡¯m certain the goblins under your thrall would have fewer complaints if the crown at least looked the part.¡±


    The world¡¯s second longest sigh met me.


    The longest was reserved for my use. I had little doubt I wouldn¡¯t need to wait long.


    ¡°There are no complaints,¡± she said, as even more goblins pretended to be busy. ¡°Because while you might think I¡¯m misleading the 586 goblins who follow me, this isn¡¯t a relationship of unequals. They experience the joys of moss cakes, fig smoothies and the occasional hiccup of gratitude from the people of Marinsgarde. In return, they assist in something worthy.¡±


    She gestured to a window from which the sounds of pickaxes could be heard.


    ¡°... Do you see what this is?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. A mine waiting to be exploited exclusively by the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± The woman snapped her fingers and smiled. ¡°It¡¯s a mine. A trove of wealth waiting to be excavated. But not just iron and silver. There¡¯s treasure as well. The type which makes the relics hidden beneath Reitzlake Cathedral look like spent candles.¡±


    ¡°My, is that so? How wonderful. I¡¯ll inform your loyal replacement of this. With that said, I¡¯m also ready to compromise with iron and silver. I¡¯ve only seen one treasure chest so far, and it had a tongue.¡±


    A knowing flash of satisfaction met my unmoved expression.


    ¡°The treasure is below. Far below. But not too far for goblins, who have seen the darkest places of the world and know how to reach them.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my groan.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I held up my hand, seeing at once where this was going. ¡°Stop right there. Please don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re digging a hole into the abyss.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m digging for a door into the abyss. The dwarves have an Underhall nearby.¡±


    I threw up my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°Excuse me! I¡¯ve already made my thoughts regarding this clear! ¡­ Maybe not to you, but to everyone else! No digging into the unexplored darkness of the world! ¡­ Why is this a difficult concept to grasp?!¡±


    ¡°Maybe because not all fear the darkness.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not darkness I fear! It¡¯s nameless horrors thinking they can tour my kingdom without the necessary documents! You are not a border official!¡±


    ¡°Well, perhaps I should be. I¡¯m about to extend the kingdom¡¯s influence. And I intend to do that by leading an expedition¨Cjust as the greatest adventurers in our past have all done.¡±


    I immediately pointed at my face.


    ¡°... Do you see this?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I see this.¡±


    ¡°Good. It¡¯s the expression I make before Coppelia begins peering into the distance. Normally, I allow the explanation, but I¡¯m afraid this is a level of comedy too advanced for me.¡±


    The woman wrinkled her nose in a way which could cause any goblin to hop back in outrage.


    ¡°I assure you, this is serious. If it wasn¡¯t, I¡¯d have continued as I was, crawling my way up that ladder. But while fame through simple deeds is well and good, that won¡¯t earn any tales. Adventurers are not common labourers. We are explorers. And I know firsthand that S-ranks do not flee from the monster in the wardrobe. We challenge it.¡±


    ¡°¡®We¡¯? Who is ¡®we¡¯? As ridiculous as the Adventurer¡¯s Guild is, I¡¯m certain this breaks at least one rule.¡±


    ¡°Goblins. I intend to use goblins.¡±


    I looked at the goblins in question. A few dropped their jaws along with their drinks.


    I was in full agreement.


    This was appalling.


    After all ¡­ I¡¯d come all the way to the bottom of a goblin cave only for a plan so awful that adventurers trying to drink themselves sober was a better idea.


    ¡°Excuse me? ¡­ You intend to have goblins headbutting the giant triple skulled horrors underneath?¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest. I¡¯m their leader. I won¡¯t request that goblins start throwing themselves to their dooms. Only that we work together. An adventurer leading goblins into the darkness will be an immense force. It¡¯s not at all unusual to see their warbands already below. Goblins would prove better than any eager adventurer stumbling in the dark.¡±


    I nodded. And also shook my head. Both at the same time.


    ¡°Goblins, yes. You, no. You should stick to kidnapping cats. It¡¯s a more manageable prospect.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it is. But I¡¯m unlikely to crawl out of Thomas Lainsfont¡¯s shadow that way. And that is the least of my goals. I want more than that. Because to map the abyss is a feat which even the Snow Dancer after a hundred years of sword training wouldn¡¯t achieve.¡±


    And there it was.


    Proof of lunacy.


    Not in wishing to lead goblins into the cold depths of the world. But to give even a moment of consideration for that elven woman. If one was insane, then the other could only be more so.


    Well, not today.


    ¡°I see.¡± I offered a polite smile. ¡°It seems you intend to fully stretch what a small tribe of goblins can accomplish. Yet while I¡¯d be delighted to employ them as miners, it won¡¯t involve opening up any entrances into the depths of the world. I demand that you cease this ridiculous scheme and offer the crown to be permanently forgotten under a pile of similarly dangerous artifacts.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be cruel. This crown is no ordinary headpiece. It¡¯s the heart of this tribe. The magic which forged it is a bond which draws its members towards it. And that is a power I now wield.¡±


    I leaned forwards slightly. The errant adventurer leaned back.


    ¡°If you wanted power, you should have become a receptionist.¡±


    ¡°... Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Receptionists are considerably more frightening. And efficient. They don¡¯t need to cause diplomatic incidents to see their wicked plots come to fruition. Nor do they require any crowns bent out of shape.¡±


    ¡°The crown is not bent out of shape. Although I understand why you¡¯d think that. Goblins, after all, are rarely kind to the treasures they appropriate. But this wasn¡¯t a crown made by an elven or human archmage. It was made by a goblin archmage. That is incredible.¡±


    The woman tapped at her metal trinket with a fingertip.


    For a moment, she even pinched the edge, threatening to lift it up as though to display it.


    Instead, she adjusted and patted it down. Absolutely no difference was made.


    I idly turned to those beside me.


    ¡°... By goblin archmage, she¡¯s referring to the ominous voice in her head, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± answered the commoner.


    ¡°I bet it¡¯s speaking to her right now~¡± said Coppelia, swiftly downing the last of her bowl of nuts.


    ¡°There¡¯s no ominous voice,¡± said the woman, her tone strained. ¡°And if there was, it would not be ominous, but wise. This crown belonged to a prodigy, for it offers more than just magic. It is a crown of leadership. It imparts the ability to [Command] the most uncertain of allies to remain true¨Ceven if it means walking to the end of the abyss ¡­ or simply ensuring that visitors without an appointment can wait in the comforts of a well stocked bar.¡±


    She tapped a finger against the table.


    And just like that, the sounds of a blustery tavern ceased to be.


    The goblins traded looks of uncertainty as a fresh silence came over us. Even the nearby mining had stopped. Hands gripped against the handles of tankards like weapons as goblins rose from their seats, their movements stiff and lumbering.


    In response, I simply nodded ¡­ all the while raising a hand to my lips.


    ¡°Ohhohohhoohoohohohohoho!!¡±


    Stunned faces met me as every goblin came to a swift halt. And why not?


    Compared to the dullness spoken by an errant adventurer with more time than sense, the melody of my laughter was nothing less than food for the soul.


    ¡°My, how amusing,¡± I said, barely covering my smile. ¡°Yet as tempting as it is to see you singlehandedly complete the downfall of the guild, I¡¯d rather not have my kingdom play host to a gathering of faceless horrors. That¡¯s what the royal capital¡¯s noble district is for.¡±


    The woman frowned, as much in puzzlement as sudden doubt as all the tavern remained still.


    ¡°You fear only the unknown. And that includes the magic of my crown. You know not what it can do.¡±


    ¡°True. I¡¯ve no idea what magic it holds. But I know what it doesn¡¯t. And that is authority.¡±


    ¡°A crown is authority.¡±


    ¡°No. A crown is a distraction. Something to be fought over by vultures while kings observe in bored amusement. Authority is independent of guises, trinkets, crowns or scepters. It is a birthright ¡­ unbending and unbreaking. And I see what you wear has already been bent.¡±


    A moment of misgiving. A whisper of hesitation.


    For the briefest of seconds, a note of prudence borne of past experiences lit up in the A-rank adventurer¡¯s eyes. A sparkle of light amidst the dim irises.


    And then it was gone.


    ¡°I hear an idle threat,¡± she said, standing up from her chair. ¡°You¡¯ve few means to decline your escort. You¡¯ve no means to damage this crown. No sword can harm it.¡±


    I leaned forwards, idly placing my chin against my palm.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ is that what you think? Yet why would I need to damage your crown ¡­ when I can simply deny it?¡±


    ¡°Deny it? What do you mean? You¡¯re not a mage.¡±


    ¡°And how fortunate I¡¯m not. For I can see clearly that a crown is worth only as much as the one who wears it. And what I also see is an adventurer who¡¯s had far too many drinks. Rejoice. I shall begin your rehabilitation.¡±


    Snap.


    I clicked my fingers.


    The eyes of a mage became as wide as dinner plates as she suddenly stepped back, betraying her caution. Her hands rose, a glimmer of magic at her fingertips.


    ¡°What are you¨C¡±


    ¡°You claim these goblins as your own. Yet this is the Kingdom of Tirea. And here, I¡¯m afraid that even the finest crown that an archmage could craft is worth less than a pebble washed up on a shore. You command nothing but what I permit. For I am a princess of the realm ¡­ and I hereby [Declare] every goblin to be released.¡±

 Chapter 339: Tremors In The Dark

    The goblins jolted as though freshly woken from a nap.


    And that was that.


    A moment later, all I saw was a stampede of rushing feet, nudging elbows and jabbing fingers. A cacophony of joy and grunts as a tavern emptied itself faster than news that an identical tavern with slightly stickier and more authentic floors had opened up just next door.


    I wore a bright smile as I sat upon a table.


    Not because a dozen elbows brushing past my shoulder was the most harrowing thing I¡¯d ever experienced, but simply because I wished for a better view ¡­ and also because Coppelia and the commoner had already seized the area behind the bar for themselves.


    Thus, I sat cradling my knees, satisfied with my work¨Cand also my island fortress amidst the rampant fleeing.


    ¡°Move, you butterheads! Faster, faster!¡±


    ¡°Hurry! Before the humans blow us all up!¡±


    ¡°Free! I¡¯m freeeeeeeee!¡±


    ¡°Grab the stuff we¡¯re not meant to talk about!¡±


    ¡°Hey! I called dibs on the snacks! Hiss!¡±


    Yes.


    Delight truly was expressed in many different ways.


    For these goblins, it was for their tankards and safety helmets to be tossed to the side with the disdain they deserved, followed by a rush of scurrying feet as they bolted like deers startled in a forest.


    Through a door permanently swinging open, I watched as goblins turned into a hundred tiny dust clouds, their soles kicking up more dirt than any amount of shovels could accomplish.


    Then, I nodded in satisfaction.


    Ohhohohohoho!


    Indeed, just as I could break even the most virulent of curses, so too could I melt the shackles of any discount crown of miscellaneous power!


    This was true on any given day, but even more so when it was wielded by a schemer so unsuited to her role that she didn¡¯t even know the first rule of survival¨C


    Always assume the lowest paid would flee.


    It was a lesson long overdue. As were many more. Because as a bedraggled adventurer rose from the floor, it was more than her attire which now boasted innumerable creases. It was also her face, crinkled in an expression of outrage and horror.


    I didn¡¯t blame her.


    Despite having been knocked over by the force of her fleeing goblins, that dull crown remained firmly affixed to her head.


    ¡°You ¡­ You broke my concentration! How did you do that?!¡±


    I gave a flick of my hair ¡­ all the while regally shuffling off the table.


    ¡°How? Why, I simply broke the magic using my superior willpower, of course.¡±


    The woman tightly clenched her fists.


    Sadly, far from rejoicing as the goblins did, she merely looked unstable.


    More so, that is.


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t willpower! ¡­ That was ¡­ You ¡­ You clicked your fingers!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did.¡± I brushed down my skirt as I avoided standing in any puddles. The most difficult ask here. ¡°And as I said, superior willpower.¡±


    ¡°That ¡­ That shouldn¡¯t have been enough!¡±


    ¡°Incorrect. That was far too much on my part. I overestimated your acumen.¡±


    The woman threw up her arms in disbelief.


    ¡°You overestimated me? I am an A-rank mage! You clicking your fingers shouldn¡¯t be enough to break the spell of command! What ¡­ What did you do?!¡±


    ¡°I clicked my fingers. Just as you noted. But I could also have lightly coughed. Or perhaps flicked a glass of wine over you. That¡¯d be churlish, of course, but the result would still be the same in every scenario I mildly startle you.¡±


    ¡°My magic¨C¡±


    ¡°Your magic is irrelevant. Perhaps you¡¯re a capable mage. But you¡¯re most certainly a terrible villain.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a villain!¡±


    ¡°Exactly. It doesn¡¯t matter what magic you use to command the wills of others. If your heart simply isn¡¯t in it, then you can¡¯t do so much as lure a tabby cat towards you. Health and safety policies do not exist in the realm of evildoers. Half measures will never be respected. Frankly, I¡¯m astonished the goblins even endured your lack of nefariousness for so long. Their standards are usually better. Perhaps the free snacks and beverages truly were useful.¡±


    The woman¡¯s mouth widened. Even so, not a single rebuttal came out.


    After all, I was a princess, and I spoke only the truth. Both because this was legally enshrined in my diary and because I actually was.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I pointed towards the bent crown atop her head.


    ¡°Fortunately, you can use this as your defence once the goblin matriarchs come knocking on your door. You¡¯re hardly blameless, of course, but it¡¯s clear you¡¯re as suited for wearing cursed artifacts as a garden squirrel. And goodness knows they¡¯ve tried. You may therefore rejoice. Now that your ¡­ plan is quite literally fleeing from you, there¡¯s no reason why you cannot relinquish that band of scrap metal.¡±


    I offered an angelic smile as I held out my palm.


    This was extremely generous. Usually, even a tiara encrusted with golden peridots which didn¡¯t quite glimmer the way I wanted only made it as far as the heap outside my bedroom window. To willingly accept something so ghastly was a deep sacrifice on my part.


    I patiently waited.


    Instead, the woman¡¯s hands shot up to tightly hold onto her dull crown. Like a child with a toy.


    ¡°No.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°Please, this is embarrassing. And also needless. I¡¯m a busy princess and have places to be.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s clearly a lie.¡±


    ¡°... Hm? What¡¯s a lie?¡±


    ¡°You being a princess.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen both Princess Florella and Princess Claris. You are neither.¡±


    My mouth widened in horror.


    Why ¡­ here I was, my royal aura unmasked, and still this supposed A-rank adventurer couldn¡¯t recognise me! Just how blinding was that artifact she wore?!


    ¡°There are three princesses!¡± I said, helpfully pointing towards my own cheeks. ¡°If you¡¯ve seen two, who does that leave?!¡±


    The woman paused.


    The ire upon her face didn¡¯t lessen. Instead, it was added to by a crease of contemplation.


    A crease which only continued as she foraged in the back of her mind.


    I was aghast.


    ¡°Excuse me?! Did that crown suck up your memories too?! Why do you have to think so hard?! Do you require the first letter?!¡±


    A moment of silence passed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the woman shamelessly. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter. You¡¯re still not a princess.¡±


    I gasped, stepping back against the mental assault.


    S-Such a powerful attack!


    ¡°What ¡­ What do you mean I¡¯m not a princess?! Look at me! I¡¯m so beautiful I singlehandedly raise the national average!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no scenario in which a princess would be found wandering in a goblin cave.¡±


    A small pause.


    ¡°... True,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Which is why I was never here. But until your further memory loss, know that as a very real princess, I take personal interest in reminding wayward adventurers of their obligations not to conduct vain quests at the expense of my kingdom.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a vain quest. Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose you¡¯d be causing a diplomatic incident elsewhere. And I wouldn¡¯t be able to ignore that one, either. Even if I pretend to know nothing about this debacle, so long as there are goblins coming to complain about your actions, my farmers will continue to sell them fig smoothies and moss cakes instead of working the fields. Apparently, that¡¯s far more profitable.¡±


    The woman grimaced.


    ¡°Everyone was to benefit from the treasures excavated from below.¡±


    ¡°Including the very hungry horrors, I take it?¡±


    ¡°The horrors would have been contained. That¡¯s what the castle is for.¡±


    I groaned, having now been reminded of the abomination waiting above. The woman¡¯s cheeks turned the smallest shade of crimson.


    ¡°It¡¯s a work-in-progress,¡± she claimed. ¡°All of which you¡¯ve now delayed. Do you think planning these things comes naturally to me? Have you any idea how above my comfort zone I¡¯ve had to be in order to lead a goblin tribe? How long I¡¯ve had to spend on this?¡±


    ¡°Yes, 5 minutes. All of it spent on pushing reason off a foggy cliff. But I suppose that wasn¡¯t you, but the ominous voice in your head.¡±


    ¡°There is no ominous voice.¡±


    I leaned in slightly, my eyes narrowing.


    ¡°In that case, remove the obviously cursed crown from your brow. I won¡¯t even ask for it. If you can lift it away, you may keep it.¡±


    The woman stared.


    Then, seeing my earnestness, she wrinkled her nose ¡­ just before her hands very gently went to lift away the chunk of tin.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing cursed about this crown,¡± she insisted, as not a single inch began to separate between said crown and her scalp. ¡°It¡¯s a tool, nothing more.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow as I waited.


    ¡°... Well? Are you going to remove the tool? It only needs to be for a second.¡±


    She pursed her lips.


    A moment later, she swallowed a dry gulp, her every muscle seemingly rebelling at the thought of lifting away a chunk of tin which was apparently now permanently sealed to her head.


    Given the way her brows dented, this was now something she realised was an issue.


    With her cheeks straining from effort, she pinched the very edges of the crown with her fingertips and very slowly began to pry. A single strand of hair was disturbed as it threatened to lift from her scalp. Her hands quivered noticeably.


    And then¨C


    ¡°No.¡±


    The crown glowed as it spoke.


    As its simple rebuttal echoed throughout the tavern, I merely placed my hands upon my hips, offering my judging glare to a woman whose face was paling faster than an entire family of peckish vampires could drain.


    She gulped.


    ¡°That ¡­ That was me ¡­¡±


    Her hands immediately resumed lifting away the crown.


    She failed.


    BwwruUummMmMmmMmm.


    Because the next moment¨Ceverything began to tremble along with her hands.


    ¡°Aah?!¡±


    Suddenly, she lunged forwards and grabbed hold of the table as the walls, ceiling and floorboards of the tavern groaned. As did the rest of the cavern.


    Beyond the windows and the open doorway, small bits of rubble came raining down, adding to the sudden chaos as bottles, tankards and entire kegs violently spun and rolled around us.


    Somewhere, I heard a commoner give a yelp as he sheltered behind the counter. Coppelia took the opportunity to step over him and rescued the falling bowls of snacks. I, meanwhile, held out my arms and balanced myself, this not being the first I experienced the results of someone else¡¯s poor planning.


    Which was good.


    Because it only became worse.


    BwwWRrruUummmMmmMmMmmMmm.


    Through the window, I watched as the cavern crumbled and the very walls tore asunder. Whole plumes of dust rose like a smoking ashland as the stone sky began to fall.


    But that didn''t mean it was destined to reach the ground.


    Far from it ¡­ the ground rose to meet the sky.


    The stone gathered like leaves drawn to a gale. But it wasn¡¯t a whistle which sounded throughout the cavern.


    It was a groan.


    And it came from a rising silhouette.

 Chapter 340: Terror Of The Depths

    BwwWRrruUummmMmmMmMmmMmm.


    All the world trembled as a monster rose from the very depths.


    Here and there, something akin to a limb could be seen, gathering to it every shard, rock and grain of dust. Yet even as the glowing moonlilies caught in the swirl revealed the stone snapping into place, what it was supposed to resemble remained lost.


    It was a mountain, a tree and something never seen.


    A lumbering behemoth, both hulking and gangling. Like a dryad that had been twisted beyond recognition, then finally petrified into stone.


    As it slowly came together, everything else seemed to retreat.


    I held out my arms, balancing myself as the world and a freshly awoken giant attempted to test me on my ballerina lessons. Naturally, I passed. But that didn''t lessen the degree my mouth widened.


    Indeed, seeing the enormous construct rising before me, I could only let out a gasp.


    Because amidst the slabs of dark granite covered in a film of moss and weeds were endless streaks of silver like glowing veins. But that wasn¡¯t the only thing to sparkle.


    It was also the deposits of gemstones.


    Even embedded into the stone, they formed a glitter so distinctive that I could have seen them in the dark. Small blushes of scarlet which drew my widened eyes more than any other treasure an earthen giant could tear from the cavern walls.


    They were my favoured jewels. The same as what made up the pommel of Starlight Grace.


    Rubies.


    My hands covered my mouth.


    Ohohohohohoho ¡­ ?!


    H-How wonderful ¡­ !!


    If ¡­ If we could mine rubies ... then this meant we no longer needed to import them!


    Indeed, I could practically see my kingdom¡¯s wealth rising before me! The cost savings from ordering them directly to the hems of my dresses, my shoes and my bathtub instead of despairing as half the shipments were inevitably lost to banditry was astonishing!


    I clapped my hands in delight ¡­ all the while doing my best not to tumble over.


    Why, I¡¯d feared that the patches of veins I¡¯d seen were simply the scraps! To think instead that such a deposit existed was like finding an extra dollop of cream hiding beneath the spongecake!


    Yes! Here was a sight to make the Miner¡¯s Guild drool as much as groan over what they had willingly abandoned! Because if they now wished to return, then I¡¯d first be exploiting them for all they were worth ¡­ which I was going to do anyway, but now I could do it even more!


    This was truly marvellous. I¡¯d have them mining before I even left this cave.


    There was just one problem.


    I wasn¡¯t certain if the Miner¡¯s Guild had a ladder tall enough.


    BwwWRRrrrRRuUUuuUUuMmmmMmmMmMmMmMmmMM.


    Another rumbling groan filled the tavern along with bits of the ceiling and whatever beverage was dribbling from the floor above. Yet this time, the sound hadn¡¯t just come from the cavern.


    It¡¯d come from that.


    ¡°A stone titan,¡± said a horrified voice.


    Beside me, the errant adventurer was staring through the window.


    Her mouth was even wider than mine. And for good reason. Seeing the earthen giant she was wholly responsible for as well as the amount of wealth sat upon it, her own crude designs for shovelling up fame and fortune from the abyss were now entirely unnecessary.


    ¡°How ¡­ How could ¡­¡±


    For a moment, she looked more lost than the lambs outside Marinsgarde.


    Forgetting even the cursed crown still upon her head, her expression was a canvas of shock as she watched the imposing giant taking form.


    But only for a moment.


    The eyes which seemed so devoid of life hardened.


    A spark of obstinance, of memory and experience returned for just a moment. And an A-rank adventurer moved with little more than a clenching of her teeth.


    A violet light gathered in her hand as she swept towards the window, before imbuing her entire form. Her hair rose as magic like a thousand will-o-wisps surrounded her.


    And then she thrust out both arms.


    ¡°[Elemental Binding]!¡±


    Her words echoed with authority, the magic bursting forth as an aurora of colours.


    It enveloped the hulking figure like a ribbon snapping tight. A challenge which didn''t go unheeded. The stone titan fought against the bindings, the ground rippling like waves in an ocean storm. Greater streaks of magic came forth in answer, dousing the fury in a curtain of calm.


    And then ¡­ the sky ceased to fall.


    The giant paused, its image now of a statue desperately in need of chiselling.


    Relief lit up on the woman''s face¨C


    BBBBBBwWWWRWRrRRrruUummMMmMMMmmMmMmmMmm.


    All the way until she was knocked off her feet.


    She hurtled backwards, saved only from an unfortunate meeting with a wooden bar counter by a commoner who lunged over to catch her ¡­ himself helped by Coppelia who happily lifted him over. He gave a small yelp as the woman crashed into his palms, but it was nothing compared to the cry of surprise she gave.


    The squall of forming rock returned in full.


    In what was a shock only to herself, a mage who¡¯d clearly never tried to control something several times her size before gasped as she sat up against the bar counter.


    All the more so as the crown upon her head lit with a bright vigour.


    ¡°And now the veil lifts at last,¡± it said, its voice hollow and distant. ¡°For I am a secret from ages past. And though my brim may flicker and gleam, the darkness I am shall unravel the seams. I am more than just a hat¡ªmere mortals behold. The doom you''ve unleashed will go untold.¡±


    The crown fell silent, but not its glowing properties.


    That was now here to stay.


    The woman swallowed a dry gulp, her eyes wide.


    ¡°Did ¡­ Did you hear that?¡±


    ¡°Of course they did. They are witless but not deaf. And so I offer my greetings¡ªmy saviours and fools. For you shall be the first to meet your end at the hands of my eternal empire. Long have my machinations settled in the shadows, waiting, brewing, unknown and unseen. A masquerade of lies and villainy, dancing amidst half-truths and soft lies. I have crossed oceans in that time. Stars as far as infinity and depths lower than the pits of devils, for my mind is a scheme without end. A thousand plots and more write themselves between my every thought. And now they are yours to behold in the dim light of your doltish eyes. You have unleashed a fate which neither the heavens nor hells can deny. Doom is your sentence. For I am the judge.¡±


    The cheeks of the mage became as pallid as a famished ghost.


    ¡°It ¡­ It doesn''t always do that.¡±


    She waited for a response.


    None came.


    Instead, she parted her lips repeatedly as though to offer a better defence. There was none. And so a judging silence permeated the tavern, rocked occasionally by the tremors of betrayal courtesy of a bent magic crown now unmasked.


    All of us stared at the cursed crown.


    Then, I nodded.


    ¡°... 1/10,¡± I declared. ¡°The worst ominous voice I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ I agree,¡± replied Coppelia. ¡°It sounds like they''re stuck in a drainpipe.¡±


    ¡°A blocked drainpipe, then. But then again, I imagine being confined to a strip of tin is nothing if not detrimental to one''s vocal projection.¡±


    ¡°A strip of tin!¡± came the indignant and distinctly muffled voice. ¡°I am a band of forbidden power! The sum knowledge of arcane endeavour! You will refer to me with the respect I deserve or not speak at all!¡±


    ¡°Very well. Coppelia, from now on we refer to this thing only as the tin hat.¡±


    ¡°Okie~¡±


    ¡°Insolence.¡± The voice tried to emit a snort. It came out as a wheeze. ¡°I was crafted with the finest alloys available. Insults will not change that.¡±


    ¡°Well, perhaps whoever made you should have used alloys found outside a used goblin marketplace. Either your pitch or timbre could have been saved. This is a travesty. Coppelia and I expected an ominous voice. Have you any idea how long we¡¯ve patiently waited for your obvious reveal?¡±


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°A blatant lie. This was a ruse which would blind the Goddess of Light herself.¡±


    ¡°The only ruse is how you¡¯ve betrayed our modest expectations. Your performance singlehandedly harms the image of goblins everywhere. Whether they loot my kingdom or fall prey to the magic of a tin hat, they¡¯ve been nothing but professional. This is an embarrassment.¡±


    ¡°My voice speaks with the might of an emperor!¡±


    ¡°It speaks with the might of a copper coin rolling into a sewer grate.¡±


    The glow from the tin hat both brightened and dimmed.


    ¡°... I¡¯ve had little time for conversation practice,¡± it said, clearly wishing to put the matter behind. It''d be denied. ¡°Indeed, I¡¯ve been waiting, watching, laughing as the undeserving have claimed me, their magic so weak they hear nothing but the faint echoes of my wisdom. A thief. A hobgoblin. A chipmunk. And more often than not, the belly of some beast. 107 years has it been since a mage worthy of my masterpiece has been found. I confess such a talent still eludes me. But what this human lacks in magic, she makes up for in malleability. She is utterly under my thrall. Even now, she cannot help but bear my weight, unable to resist the allure of¡ª¡±


    Clink.


    A tin hat spun as it was unceremoniously tossed to the ground.


    A moment later¡ª


    ¡°[Arcane Fist]!!¡±


    The ground fractured to the slamming of a magical fist ¡­ and also everything else to follow.


    ¡°[Guardian Blade]!! [Force Hammer!]!! [Astral Surge]!!¡±


    For a moment, a colourful display of magic filled the air.


    Drawing light applause from Coppelia and myself, every spell left an increasingly large indent on the floor until a veritable cellar had been dug. It did nothing to stop the blinking glow.


    ¡°What a surprise,¡± came the bemused voice, now more distant and even harder to hear. ¡°Witless and also blind. Have you not observed the splendour of my work enough? You cannot harm me even if you wasted all of what little magic you have. I am above you.¡±


    ¡°[Ethereal Owl]!!¡±


    A moment later, a conjured owl dived into the freshly made hole. It emerged with a tin hat clutched within its talons. And then it proceeded to spin around in circles.


    Over and over again.


    ¡°Stop ¡­ Stop this at once! This does not even qualify as an attack! I gave you the means to live out your shallow fantasies! Do not think you can repay me with such a frivolous response!¡±


    Hm.


    I watched as the tin hat became increasingly irate. And then I nodded.


    Practically ineffectual, but mentally wounding.


    I would do the same.


    ¡°Haaah ¡­ haaah ¡­ haaah ...¡±


    Heavily breathing, a deeply regretful adventurer doubled over as a tin hat dropped to the floor, the owl vanishing to enjoy its deserved rest. Somehow, her cheeks were simultaneously deathly pallid and scarlet as a poppy.


    An intriguing subject. If I had a canvas, I''d begin painting.


    She looked at the tin hat. At me, Coppelia and a gawping commoner. Then at the stone giant becoming steadily even larger beyond the window. And though the light was slow to return to her eyes, they did at least brighten.


    Turning squarely towards me, she opened her mouth to speak.


    And then closed it again.


    It required several attempts until the first hint of a word came out.


    ¡°I ... I¡¯m unable to bind the stone titan,¡± she said feebly, her eyes downcast. ¡°... My magic¨C¡±


    ¡°Your magic is worthless. You dare to think you possess even a drop of my power. That which you used so shamelessly was only ever borrowed. The stone titan is mine, woken by whispers even you cannot hear. And now under me is the great doom of your time bound. Harken to my laughter, for it is the last thing you will¨Cwhat are you doing?¡±


    I scooped up an upturned bowl of mixed nuts.


    Then, I made my way over to the tin hat and covered it.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± I said to the bowl. ¡°But the shoddiness of your design is too distracting. I''ve now improved you. Please continue with your threats.¡±


    I waited.


    ¡°... You have spelled your doom,¡± came the eventual reply. ¡°This is but the tantrums of children who have lost a game played with no thoughts of the rules. For in allowing me to call forth a titan of the elements, I shall do more than control it. I will become it. My crowning as we¡¯re joined will be a glorious last sight for you all.¡±


    I kneeled down and poked the mixed nuts bowl. It lit up with a scornful light.


    ¡°Your ultimate plan is to be worn by a rock,¡± I said simply.


    ¡°A stone titan is not a rock, you witless girl. It is a natural construct of the arcane. And soon it will be something new entirely. A being with the strength of a mountain and the magic of an archmage. Unprecedented. Unbreakable. Every pillar of the world will tremble¡ªfor I will be known as a demigod throughout the halls of ruined castles and broken cathedrals. I will be the Terror of the Depths.¡±


    ¡°You shall be known as nothing but a toy buried with the other artifacts burdened with megalomania. Worry not, I''m sure I can find a place for you between the cursed mirrors and the soul sucking swords.¡±


    ¡°Impudent child! Do not compare me with the trinkets of charlatans!¡±


    ¡°I don''t. Otherwise I''d place you with the porcelain tea cups which when lifted are surprisingly light. They''re far more impressive.¡±


    I could almost see the wrinkling nose.


    ¡°Humans,¡± said the muffled voice, in what was clearly meant as an insult. Coppelia nodded at once. ¡°It is not darkness which blinds you. It is your own lack of foresight. But no matter. This passing conversation is at an end. I will take from it what amusement I can. If not from your words, then your screams of agony.¡±


    BBBwwWRWRrruuuUuuUumMMmMmm.


    All of a sudden ¡­ it rose.


    In the centre of a crater previously filled by goblins, an avatar of rock and someone else''s hubris awoke. The gale of forming stones ceased, the layers of armour completed. And a foot the shape of a great oak was lifted ¡­ before crashing down again.


    Bwwooomph.


    The ground crumpled like parchment as the stone giant slowly stretched its limbs, its sinews of silver ore creaking with every inch. And although it laboured to move, there was little guesswork regarding its destination.


    Especially given the cackling from beneath a bowl.


    ¡°Hahahahah ¡­ you did well to release my brethren from my call. That was a scratch to my pride more deadly than any wound you could make with your paltry weapons. For I now wield the power of mountains. And in a moment, I will wield the power of magic at my very broad fingertips as well.¡±


    Bwwooooooomph.


    The lumbering mass needed only a handful of steps.


    A hail of dust and rubble rained against the ceiling of the tavern as it quaked its way towards us, its vast silhouette barely illuminated by the moonlilies which covered its vast frame.


    And then¡ª


    Two shimmering fissures for eyes peered through the window ¡­ as it also slightly kneeled down.


    A short chuckle sounded beside us.


    ¡°My congratulations, human. You were not on my vengeance list before. And while I rarely enjoy changes to my itinerary, I shall make an exception for you. Farewell. And please speak ill of me in the world beyond.¡±


    With that, a rumbling groan sounded.


    The titan rose along with a granite foot. An enormous sole covered the tavern in darkness.


    And so as I peered up, what met me was a premonition of the future. Of a newly excavated mine made redundant. Of towns turned to clay and mortar. Of fields blooming in springtime made dirt once again. Of peasants confused over which flattened patch was their usual home.


    And worst of all ¡­ of a stunning deposit of giant rubies about to be crushed.


    I could do nothing but gasp and cover my mouth.


    There, embedded upon its sole was a mosaic of wealth. A catalogue of brilliant gemstones as scarlet as the roses in my orchard, ready to form a small corner in the Royal Treasury to roll in.


    ¡­ Why, the thought of them being used to crush a tavern was beyond belief!


    There were things in here!


    Kegs of alcohol, sticky stains on the floor, bottles of leaking wine!


    For so many gemstones to be pointlessly ruined was almost as improper as seeking to crush a princess!


    Thus¨CI swept towards the window.


    A point had to be made. Only I was allowed to use my sole as a weapon. For me to be the victim of such a thing was so humiliating I¡¯d insist my end came via tripping on a wet bathroom tile.


    ¡­ Fortunately, I was more than a princess!


    I was a delicate and gentle princess, as confirmed by all the hours I spent rolling around an orchard.


    But no orchard came with naturally springy grass and perfectly spaced begonias. That was a feat of ceaseless diligence, as much against raiding caterpillars as the sediment in the soil. Thawing and shifting with the seasons, they were nature''s most durable pests.


    Indeed, as a large sole laboured beneath its own size, I could see nature¡¯s work at play.


    An amalgamation of all the things which happened when no care was taken in regards to landscaping or garden maintenance. Far from only seeing the dazzling rubies and the streaks of silver, I could count the individual stones.


    A sight I was all too familiar with.


    Thus, I raised Starlight Grace, smiled ¡­ and went to work.


    ¡°A truly awful sight,¡± I said, nodding as I went to my tip-toes. ¡°But nothing I can¡¯t fix, and so I shall make the jobs of my miners slightly less wearisome ¡­ Dawn breaks upon this tangled night, sweeping the vines with earthen grace. Gardening Form, 2nd Stance ¡­ [Summer Garden Trowel]!¡±


    I reached up through the window.


    And then¡ª


    Plink.


    I flicked away a single, tiny stone.


    Plink. Plink.


    And then another. And another.


    No differently than were I doing away with the unwanted bits and pieces which regularly found their way between my orchids, I efficiently flicked away using the tip of my sword.


    Coppelia lifted up a bowl slightly so the tin hat could watch.


    ¡°Wait ¡­ What ¡­ What are you ¡­¡±


    Ohhohohohohohohoohho!!


    Here it was!


    A technique expertly crafted to do away with kneeling like a farmer tugging at weeds!


    ¡­ And if this were my orchard, I¡¯d already be finished.


    A flick here and there as required, addressing each blemish only as I saw them.


    But this wasn¡¯t my orchard. And there were more than just a few pebbles.


    That''s why¡ª


    Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink. Plink.


    ¡°Ohhohohoohohohohohohoho!!¡±


    The sweet melody of my laughter filled the cavern. For the only other sound was an earthen foot as it disappeared before me one careful flick at a time.


    Before my highly discerning eyes, I diligently removed every blemish, taking care to flick the rubies to one pile and any nuggets of silver into another. That foot soon became a leg. That leg became a torso. And then as the closest thing to a shocked face came tumbling down before me, I offered my brightest smile as I leaned forwards.


    I plucked a single snowdrop, growing amidst a patch of moss.


    A rare and unusual find in the bottom of a cavern.


    As the remains of a tin hat¡¯s scheme crumbled to rest once more, its magic broken and much of its supporting limbs now absent, I turned to offer the flower for Coppelia to sample as she wished.


    ¡°Aahahaahahah ¡­ ahhahaha ¡­ aahahaahaahaha~¡±


    I found her diligently gathering up dust on the floor instead.


    She rolled to and fro, her hands on her stomach as she chose to replace my laughter with her own.


    I also found a woman staring at me with a mouth so wide I could see her tonsils. A commoner gawping while searching for a tankard. A tin hat utterly dormant and silent beneath a bowl. And lastly an orange, black and white cat crawling out from under a table, looking at the scene and then wisely returning to its shelter.


    I waited for Coppelia to stop.


    She didn''t.


    ¡­ Thus, I nodded and stuffed the flower into my bottomless pouch.


    She and Apple could argue for it later.

 Chapter 341: A Toast To Tomorrow

    ¡°Wow.¡±


    Timon Quinsley wasn''t certain which of his fellow guildmasters said that.


    All he knew was that he agreed with the sentiment.


    Ordinarily, their shock would be reserved for the bar. Even with most of the bottles now rolling on the floor, the tavern they were exploring held more liquid gold than could be found behind their own drawers. Just a glance was enough to recognise some of the labels.


    Currently, every bottle was at threat of disappearing.


    Not because anyone was particularly thirsty. But because it was what everyone needed.


    The guildmaster of Reitzlake went to the window, joined by his colleagues either side of him. As they gazed at the sight just a handful of steps away, a bottle of aged rum silently passed between them.


    The cheapest and most unpalatable thing present. And also the strongest.


    It still wasn''t quite enough.


    Before Timon was a sight which called into question the strength of his eyes. Because try as he might, he couldn''t reconcile the scene he''d witnessed not long ago with the result he now saw.


    A stone titan.


    A sentinel of the depths, woven from stone and magic.


    And now it was three neatly stacked piles of stone, silver and gemstones.


    Timon was speechless. And that was a rare gift for those around him.


    Stone titans were what every golem ever pieced together by a mage hoped to emulate. A dream as unlikely as a trout hoping to become a two-headed shark. Even the greatest constructs were only ever a pale imitation to what the world itself could create¨Cas every soul here saw.


    It was calamity given legs. A giant which could have wrestled with a dragon and won.


    It knew no pain and feared no fire. A thing as cold and brutal as the depths from which it was made.


    Its awakening was the first chapter to a tale of devastation.


    ¡­ Except that the tale turned out to be as long as a synopsis, written by a sword which had again struck faster than his eyes could follow.


    Even as he¡¯d strained every fibre of his being, all he saw was a blur of shimmering light. However, rather than a heavenly strike blessed by Lady Lumielle, it was more like the gnashing teeth of a thousand ravenous hydras.


    The stone titan hadn''t been destroyed.


    It''d been devoured.


    Shredded like the letters from headquarters he used to keep his knifework active. And unlike them, he rather doubted if Mirabelle could put this thing back together.


    In fact¨C


    The only thing he¡¯d truly caught was the smile of the girl wielding it.


    Well, that and the laughter.


    But Timon chose not to think about that. And very likely, neither did those beside him.


    ¡°We need more rum,¡± said Miranda, breaking the silence while keeping the already existing bottle of rum wholly to herself. ¡°Shall we begin searching?¡±


    The din of silence answered.


    A far cry to the cavern which had shortly ago trembled as they hid, squatting beneath the window of a tavern like a trio of burglars.


    ¡°The rum can wait,¡± replied Mathias, as he did indeed begin searching for more rum. ¡°What did your [Eye Of The Seeker] witness?¡±


    ¡°The same thing as your eyes. A stone titan about to add a tavern to its pancake collection. And then failing.¡±


    ¡°Are you certain the girl isn''t a mage? She could be a powerful one. A trained spellsword, perhaps. All I saw was a glow as the stone titan was brought down. Could that not have been offensive light magic at work? A strike imbued into her blade?¡±


    Miranda frowned in thought.


    ¡°I''m uncertain. I believe the light was from the enchantments upon her sword. But weapon imbuement isn¡¯t a school of magic I''m overly familiar with. However ¡­ it''s true that such magic is more subtle by design. An expert in channelling their magic into their sword would be difficult to detect.¡±


    ¡°Then that''s what we saw. I know of no warrior who can bring down a stone titan with a strike of pure light. This girl is a high-class mage.¡±


    Two pairs of eyes turned to Timon.


    His first response was to simply chuckle.


    ¡°... Oh? And who''s to say she''s not both? At this point, it¡¯s not inconceivable that she¡¯s skilled in the schools of both magic and swordsmanship. Quite the fascinating one.¡±


    ¡°You''re enjoying this, aren''t you?¡± said Mathias with a wrinkle of his nose.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Timon smiled as he began lifting chairs and pulling tables in place. ¡°After all ¡­ it isn''t too often a guildmaster can claim to have royalty in their ranks.¡±


    The groans came at once.


    ¡°Can we all just acknowledge that we heard nothing?¡± asked Miranda. ¡°A girl who can turn a stone titan into a pile of broken pottery is one thing. That she is a princess is an entirely unnecessary dimension of complication we do not need.¡±


    ¡°I know nothing of what you''re speaking about,¡± declared Mathias immediately. ¡°If in the process of observing our newest prodigy, we happened to hear a loud declaration involving the word ¡®princess¡¯, then that is a problem my ears weren¡¯t privy to.¡±


    ¡°There we go. Both Mathias and myself heard nothing. What about you, Timon?¡±


    He rolled his shoulders and smirked, revelling in the dismay of his companions as much as the satisfying click of his joints.


    Little did they know, he was holding back his mirth.


    Timon wanted to laugh. He wanted to bellow until the tears rolled down his face.


    For he never would have expected that of all the Contzens to assume the mantle of an adventurer, it would be the youngest.


    Indeed ¡­ there could be no mistake. Nor was there a lie in her words.


    That was not Princess Florella or Princess Clarise. But the features were there, to be seen when she was still enough that they could be registered. The same proud face. The same regal stature. If this were Reitzlake Castle, she¡¯d be recognised at once.


    However, no blindfold was greater than that of common sense, and he''d allowed it to mislead him as much as a curtain over his head.


    He was quite happy to be free of it.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± he said with a chuckle. ¡°It appears your hearing is worse than mine. Because I happened to hear that my most promising recruit must be ¡­ ah, Princess Juliette Contzen, I believe. Quite the rare name, no?¡±


    Miranda frowned. Hard.


    ¡°A princess as an adventurer is not a bonus. It is an issue.¡±


    ¡°Why so? The guild has ever been the sanctuary of both rich and poor.¡±


    ¡°Yes. With limits. Young nobility escaping their horse riding lessons, perhaps. But not royalty. They are the leaders of nations. Having one in our ranks is extremely problematic. How does she function with the guild code hanging over her?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Quite well, I believe, considering the excellent work she''s done so far.¡±


    ¡°Timon¡ª¡±


    The man gently held up his hand.


    ¡°You''ve no need to fret, Miranda. I may be old, but I¡¯m not senile. She has only been able to achieve what she has through the cloak and veil she now uses. Much of it cast accidentally by ourselves. That isn¡¯t something I¡¯d see tossed away, even if it¡¯d make me the most envied guildmaster across the continent. So while I did hear, I¡¯ll also not speak.¡±


    The relief was palpable.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Mathias, the wrinkles returning as his face relaxed. ¡°She''s your adventurer, as you enjoy saying. Whatever trouble she brings, it is of no concern to us.¡±


    Timon gave a bemused chuckle.


    ¡°Now, now, it''s far too early to absolve yourself. The girl¡¯s royal status aside, there''s still the matter of her status as a prodigious adventurer we need to consider. Therefore, as your friend, I want you both to know that when the time comes, I''ll be dragging both of you down with me.¡±


    ¡°When what time comes?¡± said Miranada, her tone exasperated. ¡°What are you planning now?¡±


    ¡°Nothing that isn''t unexpected for me, sly fox that I am.¡±


    Whatever looks of horror they''d worn while watching a princess disassemble a stone elemental like cheddar on a grater, it was nothing compared to what they offered him.


    ¡°If you''re thinking what I am¡ª¡±


    ¡°There''s no ¡®if¡¯ about it, Miranda. That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    ¡°You cannot.¡±


    ¡°Why''s that? My thoughts are quite free.¡±


    ¡°Too free. There are rules. Rules you stretch to the point of dough turning into the thinnest gruel, yes, but rules you''ve yet to break ¡­ publicly, at least. This would break them. You know that.¡±


    ¡°Hoho. Do I now?¡±


    ¡°This isn''t a laughing matter. You¡¯ve already overstepped what a guildmaster¡¯s powers commonly allow. Headquarters is already up in arms. They''re looking for any excuse to remove you. There will be repercussions. Consequences. One step out of line and they¡¯ll all be down here to personally drag you from your office.¡±


    It was a warning which made Timon Quinsley grin like a young boy again.


    ¡°Good. The Kingdom of Tirea could always use more adventurers. Even those older than I am. Maybe they''ll see something to jog their memories while they¡¯re here.¡±


    Despondency answered him.


    But no words.


    After all, he hadn¡¯t become the guildmaster of Reitzlake without the obstinacy to do things his way until it was more trouble to get rid of him than allow him to stay.


    He didn''t intend to break that streak now.


    ¡°What about Liliane?¡± asked Miranda, deliberately pivoting the topic away. ¡°We came here for her if I recall. Do we all cross our arms and awkwardly glower at her?¡±


    ¡°Leave Liliane to me. I''ll speak with her as the kingdom''s representative guildmaster. Given the lack of a talking crown on her head, I assume she¡¯s now in a more agreeable mood.¡±


    A look of incredulity came from Mathias.


    ¡°... Are you now volunteering to actually work? Without us to help share blame if your words cause another earth elemental to rise?¡±


    ¡°It''s the least I can do. I brought you here to help me with an A-rank mage should my fears be realised. That was always the easy part. Chastising a grown woman? Now that¡¯s far harder. I wouldn¡¯t dare saddle you with such a gruelling task. But if you wish to assist, I¡¯d be happy to continue imposing.¡±


    A snort came from his oldest rival, friend and enemy.


    ¡°You may see out the conclusion by yourself,¡± he said, not wasting a moment before striding away. ¡°How glad I am to be free of A-ranks. As far as anyone is concerned, I took a small holiday from Stermondt. I was never here.¡±


    He paused for a moment, glancing at the bar. He stood still for several seconds ¡­ just before reaching over and taking a bottle of the most expensive brandy still on a rack.


    Then, he was off, back to his house of mice that he called a guild branch.


    ¡°... He did enjoy this,¡± said Miranda diplomatically, rolling down her sleeves now that her magic wasn''t needed. The bottle of rum she¡¯d held was already missing. Likely in one of those very sleeves. ¡°A little bit, at least.¡±


    ¡°And yourself?¡±


    Miranda raised a brow.


    ¡°Next time, ensure you send a warning beforehand. Your luck will run out at some point.¡±


    ¡°I shall keep that in mind, Lady Howe.¡±


    Timon offered a flamboyant dip of his head. The best impression of politeness a man of his reputation could ever offer. It earned only a roll of the eyes.


    ¡°Ensure you''re not too harsh on Miss Harten,¡± she said, turning to leave. ¡°There will be many seeking amends. Yet whatever this was, it could¡¯ve been worse. She could use at least one sympathetic voice.¡±


    Timon paused.


    After all, for all his light candour, he was still first among equals. And he had a role to play.


    ¡°If the option is available,¡± he simply said.


    Miranda offered a nod.


    Then, with a turn of her heels, she followed in the much swifter footsteps of the one who was likely already halfway back to Stermondt.


    Timon waited until she¡¯d left before he sucked in a deep breath of air.


    A sigh with twice the amount came out.


    After a moment, he slowly hobbled towards the bar, every inch of his poor gait on display as he pulled out a stool. He whacked it against the floor to do away with the worst of the dust, then sat down with his elbows upon the counter, chin resting against the back of his hands.


    ¡°... A Granholtz Sunrise, please,¡± he said calmly. ¡°Easy on the ice.¡±


    The maiden behind the counter smiled.


    Or perhaps ''maiden'' was incorrect.


    She was young, certainly. Likely not much older than the princess. But the demeanours between the two couldn¡¯t be more stark. One was an adventurer who strived to dispel the darkness from the kingdom her family had sworn to defend. The other was a viper pretending to be a flower.


    A lotus flower, to be exact.


    ¡°A Granholtz Sunrise,¡± repeated the girl with mismatched eyes, one as golden as autumn leaves, one as scarlet as her smile. ¡°Authentic ones served in the ducal capital are usually made with honey, but I do have flareberry syrup available. Do you have a preference?¡±


    Timon shrugged.


    ¡°Dealer''s choice.¡±


    The girl''s smile almost threatened to look genuine.


    Even if it wasn''t, every adventurer in Timon''s hall would doubtless fall backwards over their own heels if they saw it. A big if, despite the garishness of the maiden¡¯s uniform.


    ¡°You''re more observant than your colleagues,¡± said the Dealer, busying her hands as she willingly turned her back. ¡°But I suppose unlike them, you were never always an adventurer. A shame. Your experience is wasted squinting at paperwork.¡±


    Timon flinched impulsively for his pair of knives. Only trained experience and a history of watching those with swifter hands suddenly lose all their fingers held him back.


    ¡°You''ve little to concern yourself with, then. I can barely recall what the guild¡¯s own letterhead looks like. A grand achievement for a guildmaster.¡±


    ¡°One of many, few of which your colleagues know about. Had your path not taken a brighter turn, perhaps those careful eyes of yours wouldn''t be wasted on studying the shadows for unprincipled rascals like me.¡±


    ¡°It''s not my eyes I need for that. Just my nose.¡±


    ¡°Oh my, do you imply something boorish, Mr. Guildmaster?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. Only that I¡¯m not sneezing as much as I normally do around a bar. You tidied behind the counter. It looks better than my own. A fine job.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I don''t enjoy mysteriously loitering in a mess.¡±


    ¡°Only the warm and balmy shadows, I suppose?¡±


    ¡°If only that were true. I actually prefer the sunlight. Believe it or not, I¡¯m a morning person.¡±


    Timon gave a generous chuckle.


    As he did so, his impromptu bartender expertly handled all the things the goblins had left behind. There was the sound of careful slicing upon a cutting board as she prepared various ingredients before squeezing, stirring and mixing them as required with coconut liqueur into a pair of highball glasses.


    She carefully placed both upon the counter.


    ¡°A Granholtz Sunrise,¡± said the Dealer, nudging one towards him. ¡°Made with a drop of honey. If you asked for flareberry syrup in Granholtz, you would be outed as a traitor or a spy.¡±


    Timon reached past it and took the other one.


    The Dealer made no comment. She understood, after all.


    ¡°Good thing I''m a guildmaster, then. We regularly get away with worse.¡±


    ¡°Yourself most of all. From the way your peers speak about you, you regularly commit open murder.¡±


    ¡°On the careers of those after my chair, perhaps. I''m on quite the villainous spree. Although slightly less than what you can boast, I imagine. It seems the easiest way for a guildmaster to earn a holiday in Granholtz is to pluck the wrong flower.¡±


    ¡°Then fortune follows the guild. Often the wrong flower when plucked can be lethal. A holiday is a welcome reprieve.¡±


    Timon sipped his drink.


    To his slight annoyance, it was very good.


    ¡°Hm.¡± He swirled the liquid in the glass, watching as the sunrise inverted. The nod was all he needed to offer. ¡°... And so what brings such an esteemed guest to my neck of the woods, then, Lady Dealer?¡±


    The girl shrugged.


    She flicked at the glass with a fingertip. The shape within briefly changed into the shape of a bunny.


    ¡°The usual. Subterfuge. Larceny. Trespassing. Reading people¡¯s diaries. Being up to no good.¡±


    ¡°Should I be concerned?¡±


    ¡°Always. But not now. Currently, I¡¯m just a bartender.¡±


    ¡°I hear the world sighing in relief. Quite the odd turn your career has taken.¡±


    ¡°True. But no more than a princess with a copper ring or a masked rogue who boasts 37 active bounties across 8 nations as a guildmaster. Would you like to try a Goblin Surprise?¡±


    ¡°That depends. What¡¯s a Goblin Surprise?¡±


    ¡°The most abhorrent thing you will ever consume. I don¡¯t recommend it.¡±


    ¡°Well, in that case, why isn¡¯t it already before me?¡±


    The Dealer smiled.


    Then, she efficiently stirred, shook, bashed several liquids together. Timon didn''t know what half the things were. Only that it''d likely knock out what remained of his hair.


    He accepted it regardless.


    ¡°... You''ve plans for my adventurer, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Of course. She has my personal curiosity.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯s shuddering on the spot. Mind if I ask what that personal curiosity entails?¡±


    ¡°Only things of the most sinister and foul nature. Yourself?¡±


    Timon Quinsley chuckled.


    He offered out his glass to a toast. The girl accepted.


    ¡°Hoho ¡­ exactly the same.¡±

 Chapter 342: Golden Hour

    Beneath the fading dusk was a scene of joy.


    Like a thorn plucked from the tip of a fingertip, my kingdom sighed in relief as the worst tourist feature to blight its fair horizon was being removed.


    Amidst discarded furniture, workbenches and pickaxes, the goblins who had previously worked on seeing a makeshift castle peppered with traps now worked just as hard on seeing them carefully dismantled.


    Bwooooomph!


    Indeed ¡­ they were so careful that only a violent plume of flame and smoke rose.


    A leaning tower burst like a shattering chandelier, sending a flash of light to fill the darkening surroundings. It was nothing compared to the delight which lit up upon the watching faces. Particularly as it was more than the mud being flung into the air.


    It was also a tin hat.


    Tableware inscribed with the Holy Church''s emblem traded hands as goblins gambled over the distance that their formerly revered symbol of leadership could take to the sky.


    For a moment, it stretched towards the clouds. A dull gleam propelled by the will of those breathlessly watching ¡­ just before it came crashing down into a puddle of mud.


    Splat.


    A few seconds later, the most enthusiastic worker here came to pick it up again.


    ¡°62.7 metres~!¡±called out Coppelia, raising the tin hat above her.


    A round of applause met her as a new record was set. Just as it had been with each progressively greater amount of leftover traps they abused.


    Even so, it still wasn''t quite enough.


    Because unlike a castle, the tin hat had yet to remove itself¨Cdespite its own best efforts.


    ¡°I have seen the error of my ways,¡± came a somewhat squeaky voice, glowing only modestly in Coppelia''s hands. ¡°As a magical artifact created to emulate the will of my creator, I was not aware of the harm my machinations would cause to others. Please accept my apologies. I wish now to make amends, to forge new friendships and memories as I find my own place in this beautiful world ripe for conquest.¡±


    Coppelia, naturally, did not listen.


    For one thing, the tin hat being used as passing entertainment was a far worthier role than its machinations deserved. But for another, it''d need to be handed over to the nearest guardhouse for safekeeping until it could be squirreled away into the same vault we kept all the other talking artifacts.


    I just needed to tell her.


    Once she¡¯d had her share of amusement.


    Bwooooomph!


    It was likely to be a while.


    Thus¨Cboth my attention and my smile were on the newly realised space before me. All that was left was to replace it with a few neatly trimmed hedgerows, a pond filled with water lilies, the gentle quiet of peace ¡­ and also the trappings of ceaseless industry.


    Ohhohohohohoho!


    Indeed, there was considerable work to be done!


    To build a fully working mine fit for modern standards was no small task.


    After all, to do it in such a way that the inhabitants of Troll Country just across the mountains could be kept awake by the plinking of pickaxes required careful planning and maximisation of acoustics.


    Every corner needed to be carefully calibrated, every echo measured. We needed to ensure that each yelp when a ceiling collapsed ensured one less hour of sleep for the trolls.


    That meant one more successful haggle for everyone else.


    Yes, as a diligent and kind princess, I would do my part! ¡­ And I¡¯d begin by hiring someone else to do this for me!


    ¡°... Right,¡± said the goblin foreman, approaching with his clipboard already being squinted at. ¡°I''m pleased to say that the disassembly process is proceeding on schedule. As many of our most volatile explosive traps weren''t yet laid, I''ve been able to reallocate them for the purposes of targeted demolition.¡±


    I nodded in satisfaction.


    It was somewhat loud, yes ¡­ and more than once, a boulder of mud had flung past my face.


    However, by bringing down the castle with as much needless force as possible, it was also frightening away the trespassers who were doubtless already queuing up to loot what they could.


    ¡°Wonderful. Your efficiency has been exemplary.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± The goblin foreman adjusted his helmet. ¡°However, after a cursory overview of your requests, I''ve at least one major concern I need to raise.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What would that be?¡±


    He flipped a sheet of parchment upon his clipboard. I leaned forwards to peek at it. He turned it away.


    ¡°I''m told you wished for the mud, specifically the wettest mud with growing weed as a bonus, to be repurposed as a statue of the Grand Duchess, ruler of Granholtz ¡­ is this correct?¡±


    I placed my hand upon my chest and smiled.


    ¡°Indeed, it is. As the most inseparable neighbour of this kingdom, it''s imperative that tokens of friendship be regularly extended. A statue of their most respected leader crafted from the dirt ¡­ I mean, the soil of my kingdom is the finest compliment there is.¡±


    The foreman frowned as he gestured at the gradually growing valley of mud.


    ¡°Well, there are a few issues with that. The most immediate being that we don''t have any sculptors here. And even if we did, none of my goblins knows what the Grand Duchess looks like. Any statue we carve of the human in question would fall far short of the quality which would be expected as a gift of a ruling monarch. She would look utterly terrible.¡±


    ¡°Ohohohoh¡ªuck, ahem. That is fine. The rulers of nations do not perceive art through such shallowness as their aesthetics or even accurate proportions. Merely heart.¡±


    ¡°Right. But that''s only the first issue. Did you want the statue built here?¡±


    ¡°What? Of course not. Such a hideous ¡­ ly impressive figure would be a distraction. I''d have it delivered to either the Granholtz Embassy or the Rensdraldt Fortress.¡±


    ¡°There''s the next problem then. Mud statues are not designed for transportation. Mud statues compromised by weeds even less so. It will never survive the journey. Mud is inherently fragile.¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ª! But you built a castle from it! Hopelessly lopsided, yes ¡­ but still a castle!¡±


    ¡°The castle had structural supports. It had wooden beams, a limestone foundation as well as thatching and gutters. A mud statue would be entirely exposed, while its weight distribution also makes it highly likely to crack. I''m afraid to say there''s no practical solution if you wish to use only mud.¡±


    I clicked my tongue as I studied the remains of an exploding castle.


    A disappointing verdict, but if that was the brunt of the bad news, then I''d accept it.


    ¡°Very well. Thank you for informing me of this. I shall consider alternatives. Is that all the issues?¡±


    ¡°There''s other ones. But nothing I can''t handle for the time being. Destroying is easier than building, after all.¡± The foreman nudged his helmet, almost dipping it in respect. ¡°It''s a shame. Harten Castle was a rush job. But it was my rush job. For something made with no time, material or experience, I feel I did okay. Still, if it''s never going to be finished, I''d rather see it torn down. Only dwarves leave work half-done.¡±


    ¡°A commendable attitude. I¡¯m certain your employers have each taken note. Incidentally, I happen to be now hiring miners. A foreman will also be needed.¡±


    The goblin looked up from his clipboard.


    He narrowed his eyes at my lack of a helmet. But since the sign stating it was mandatory was mysteriously missing, he had no grievance to bring forward.


    ¡°You''re offering me a job?¡±


    ¡°No, I''m offering a lifestyle change.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°This is going to be a new one, huh?¡±


    ¡°Quite so. It¡¯s a proposal which demands only one answer. Because in exchange for your time and service, you¡¯ll no longer need to barter for your moss cakes. You can purchase them¨Cto such an extent that you can simply toss the ones with the slightest blemish through the nearest window.¡±


    ¡°That seems a bit wasteful.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it is. Those tasked with making confectionery should do it correctly the first time. But you''ll be remunerated generously enough that their errors will be less of a concern.¡±


    The goblin foreman raised an eyebrow. He tilted his helmet slightly just to make it more obvious.


    ¡°Huh, receiving a job offer from a human. Not sure when I should start running.¡±


    ¡°Why, I suppose that¡¯s when you wish to begin. I''ll require you to oversee the development of these mines. The tunnels you''ve excavated at short notice are admirable, but there''s still work to be done¨Cespecially regarding further surveying. Overall, however, it¡¯s a simple process. Bundle anything which faintly glitters into an assorted pile and the kingdom will purchase it at a reasonable rate.¡±


    A small hum met my highly detailed job description.


    ¡°Feels more like a troll thing than a goblin thing. But I''m not against the prospect in principle. I''ve stayed in worse caves. Have you asked Snotrag?¡±


    ¡°Who is ¡­ Snotrag?¡±


    ¡°He wears a white chef''s hat.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Him. No, I haven''t. Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, you''ll need to run anything by Snotrag since he''ll be the leader now. But I''ll tell you now, I''m pretty sure he''ll say no. He''s not a fan of the smell around here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I''m afraid that cannot be helped. Lissoine is just over the horizon. Despite our written complaints, the perfume continues to drift in. Even so, I fail to see why you need permission. Being free from the yoke of a tin hat, you¡¯re now able to decide your own highly promising career prospects.¡±


    The goblin foreman shrugged.


    ¡°Hat or not hat, I don¡¯t see a reason to swap caves. Snotrag¡¯s got a good nose. And as far as I¡¯ve seen, his hat¡¯s normal. I¡¯ve never heard him talk to himself before.¡±


    ¡°... Yet.¡±


    ¡°¡®Scuse me?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t wish to be made into a mid-level goon where you¡¯ll somehow take full responsibility for your leader¡¯s slide into self-absorbed ambition, then I suggest you consider my proposal. That goblin with the white chef''s hat is currently posing as a guild receptionist. That is the first sign of danger. He has already tasted a position of unbridled power. Evil is not made. It is nurtured. And there is no greater source of corruption than behind a guild receptionist¡¯s desk.¡±


    A stare answered me.


    ¡°Um, I can''t really comment. I''ve never met a guild receptionist ¡­ but I think I¡¯ll still have to decline.¡±


    I nodded, hearing the finality in his tone.


    Then, I snapped my fingers and smiled.


    ¡°I''ll let you build a castle.¡±


    The goblin blinked.


    ¡°Say what?¡±


    ¡°Castle. I¡¯ll let you build one.¡±


    ¡°Wait. Didn''t you just ask for a castle to be torn down?¡±


    ¡°No, I asked for a poorly costed large building project to be torn down. But as unfortunate as such a smudge is on your work history, your individual effort was noteworthy. Few could shape a castle with only sticks and stones to work with. Clearly you''ve some regrets. But now also experience.¡±


    A moment of hesitation came in the form of a heel tapping on the ground.


    ¡°It''s ¡­ true. I''m not happy with my first attempt. And I''m certain the next will be better. But not without all the things I mentioned. Materials, time and space.¡±


    ¡°All which you shall have. So here is my offer. I will permit you to build a castle once this mine is operational. And I promise that you shall have all the time, materials and space you desire.¡±


    ¡°That''s a tall promise, considering I¡¯m already missing most of that. The ground here is soft and sloped. It¡¯s little more than a sandpit. Poor for building a hut, much less a castle. And without being too harsh, what stone you have is average at best. If I''m to build a castle, I''d want something better. White marble, for example. Like the ones they use in Lissoine. That''s not cheap. And I''m definitely not paying for it.¡±


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


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ is that all?¡±


    ¡°You can get white marble?¡±


    ¡°I can. But I won¡¯t. That¡¯d just be insulting. If I ask for a castle, I won¡¯t just give you better. I¡¯ll give you the very best. And that includes location. The castle won¡¯t be here.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± The goblin looked at me in confusion. And also doubt. ¡°Where would it be?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere which happens to boast an ample amount of unused space alongside scenic views of the ocean. It is a paradise called Soap Island. An enterprising place of joy consisting entirely of a mountain of naturally glazed volcanic rock. Why, you could build a castle entirely out of emberstone.¡±


    A look of stunned disbelief met me. And why not?


    Few goblins were known as shipfarers. Even fewer princesses were known to offer them an entire island of naturally glossy stone to indulge in.


    I leaned in and smiled.


    ¡°Perhaps you were considering a white castle, with pretty parapets and blue roofed towers. But why settle for something so pedestrian? I will offer you better. A chance to create something that will live long in the memory. A black castle with spiked battlements. Towers which spew flames. Walls so dark they will look like they¡¯ve been scorched by a dragon. Those looking up from below will see a keep as foreboding as the deepest night. A bastion to send despair into all to look upon it, from pirates in the sea to local vagrants in the midst of rehabilitation. Naturally, as the foreman responsible, sole acclaim would be yours to take. Your name would be courted all across the continent. Particularly with so many passing traders as admirers. I offer more than an opportunity. But a chance for a legacy.¡±


    Only a wide open mouth met me.


    The hat slowly tilted until an eye was covered. The one that was visible was the size of a large flan.


    It was all the answer I required.


    ¡°... I¡¯ll be informing my sister about today¡¯s events,¡± I said with a smile. ¡°She¡¯s in nearby Trierport and will doubtless view both this mine and a new castle as a great benefit. Should you find my offer interesting, you simply need to wait for her correspondence. Until then, I wish you well.¡±


    With that, I offered a nod, then turned my heels and left for other matters.


    Indeed, before I could begin planning what sufficiently darkened banners to drape over Soap Island''s very own castle, I needed to finish other important business.


    Namely ¡­ enduring one last spot of dourness today.


    All of it coming from the deadened expression of a woman sitting in a cart.


    I made my way over to a dusty corner of the quarry where the mining carts had been evacuated. Their burdens shone with silver as well as bits of copper and iron, and yet their glimmer was doused by the clear aura of dejection coming from a woman resting her head against a little corner.


    It probably wasn¡¯t helped by the orange, black and white cat also poking her face.


    The woman¡¯s only response was to stare blankly ahead.


    I didn''t fault her. The man holding the cat was nothing if not relentless.


    Seeing me approach, he immediately sent the smile of a seasoned ruffian my way, before creasing his attire for good measure.


    ¡°And I thought Pepper was a handful,¡± he said, bringing the cat back into his arms. It pawed the air in search of freedom. ¡°First few days, he wouldn''t even look at me unless I practically got down on my knees. That''s not a good sign.¡±


    ¡°I disagree,¡± I replied. ¡°By pleading on your knees, you''re establishing a clear social hierarchy between adventurers and cats.¡±


    The man laughed.


    I hardly saw why. An indisputable pecking order was important. Most conflicts only began when the dividing lines became too muddied.


    ¡°Yeah, I guess there''s that. But mostly I''m referring to my ability to befriend cats. If I lose that magic touch, I''m not sure what I''d do with myself.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Oddwell, there are other ways for adventurers to make a nuisance of themselves other than harassing cats. What they are ¡­ well, I''m not certain. But the guild must receive its funding from somewhere other than looting tombs.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m told. Got an interest in how the guild operates, huh?¡±


    ¡°I''ve an interest in who its secret patrons are, yes. As do my tax inspectors.¡±


    The man raised his palms.


    ¡°Hey. I''m innocent. I just do what''s on the posters.¡±


    ¡°My, then a caution is in order. With a respectable attitude like that, you¡¯ll be promoted in short order. Most adventurers waste their time idling away in the company of sloth.¡±


    ¡°Well, you can''t blame them. No point being an adventurer if you can''t relax once every two seconds. Then we''d just be worse paid town guards.¡±


    The man gave a genial smile.


    He was in good spirits. That was excellent. He could help by continuing to poke.


    ¡°To be a town guard is a profession to strive for. Few calamities have ever been caused by guarding a merchant¡¯s stall.¡± I pointed at the lazing woman. ¡°I see she''s conscious. Has she lost the ability to speak?¡±


    ¡°No, uh, I hear her sighing every now and again. Mostly when Pepper sneezes in her direction. But Miss Harten will come around soon. I''m sure she''s just got a few regrets on her mind right about now.¡±


    Hmm. True.


    This was an appropriate, if belated realisation that I was indeed a princess. However, if she was only rendered immobile from embarrassment, then my healing touch couldn''t save her.


    ¡­ Fortunately, my smile was an even more delicate thing!


    ¡°Y-You are ¡­¡±


    Indeed, as she suddenly sat up and gawped in defiance of all etiquette, I leaned back in the knowledge that there was no faux pas which the smile of a princess at the top of the social hierarchy couldn¡¯t erase. Which was strange. Because I wasn¡¯t actually smiling.


    I queried her with a raised brow. She ignored it. As did the commoner.


    After all¡ª


    ¡°Well now, isn''t this quite the gathering of talent?¡±


    They were both gawping at the elderly man behind me.


    Grey hair. A stooped back. And garments so worn they were likely to send the seamstresses of Marinsgarde into a fainting frenzy.


    I was aggrieved.


    The first trespasser was an elderly man. I''d need to pretend to at least hesitate before I punted him away.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir, but I regret to say that this area isn¡¯t open to tourism ¡­ yet. If you''d like to inquire about sightseeing opportunities in the future, you may see the foreman once he¡¯s finished building a castle.¡±


    The man gave a hearty chuckle.


    ¡°Good thing I¡¯m here to see you, then. As well as Miss Harten and Mr. Oxwell, of course.¡±


    He nodded towards the two adventurers.


    Whether holding a cat or sitting in a cart, both stared at the new arrival in the way people only did when they were figures of influence.


    Suffice to say, I didn''t recognise him in the slightest.


    ¡°I see? And who might you be, then ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°I''m Timon Quinsley. Guildmaster of Reitzlake. It''s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Juliette¨Cmuch delayed as this is to exchange introductions with an A-rank under my care. For that, please accept my apologies. My receptionist has told me much about you. Although ... ah, unless I''m mistaken, I do rather believe you might have dropped something, no?¡±


    My mouth widened in utter incomprehension.


    Meanwhile, Coppelia less than subtly accepted her cue.


    Abandoning whatever she was doing the literal second before, she immediately appeared beside me, innocently whistling as she opened my bottomless pouch. A few moments of treason later, she plucked out a copper ring, then squeezed it onto my finger.


    She casually sidestepped away, then grabbed a smoothie from a passing goblin. And also the goblin.


    ¡°Stay. This is better than an exploding castle.¡±

 Chapter 343: A Princess’s Dignity

    As a princess, I must always be the picture of grace.


    Gentle. Elegant. Assured.


    Like a ballerina upon a stage, it was all but guaranteed that my every movement, my every smile and my every snore would be watched for even the slightest sign of frailty.


    After all, those who sought weakness were as endless as the shadows they resided in. Saboteurs, traitors and opportunists alike waited like crows watching a battlefield, their talons held for only as long as it took for the first whiff of weakness to be sniffed.


    To keep my head raised at all times was thus an endeavour without end.


    Yet even so, I remained forthright in my strides and unwakeable in my naps. For as the clouds turned dark and even the gulls fled from the sky, it was I who was looked upon as a beacon amidst the storm.


    A calming presence in the turbulence of life.


    A bastion of dignity. An oasis of serenity.


    That¡¯s why¡ª


    ¡°Haah ¡­ haaah ¡­ ughh ¡­ guuhh ...¡±


    Not a single person saw me as I burst through a door.


    ¡°G-Good evening! Welcome to the Silk & Button Sewing House! ¡­ How may I help you?¡±


    Indeed ¡­ I was so inconspicuous that it took all the alertness of the mildly startled seamstress in front of me to even notice my presence!


    However, while my veil of secrecy and barely heard gasps of breath were just about impossible to discern, that didn''t mean there was no hope for improvements.


    Thus¡ªwith my clammy hands upon my knees, I sucked in the required air and looked up.


    ¡°Haahh ¡­ I ¡­ I require ¡­ a disguise.¡±


    ¡°A ¡­ disguise?¡±


    I nodded furiously.


    A heartbeat later, I glanced behind my shoulder.


    I watched as the door to one of Marinsgarde''s many sewing houses slowly creaked to a close. As my eyes narrowed, I waited for a hand to thrust past the narrowing gap like a knife through a chest.


    Nothing happened.


    There were no chasing silhouettes. No wrinkled faces. No smiles promising social oblivion.


    Even so, I chose not to rest.


    Indeed, I had no time to waste. I needed to assume a new identity. To enshroud myself in such a cloak that even my own family would fail to recognise me. Anything less was to invite calamity.


    Because right now ¡­ I was in mortal danger!


    Yes ¡­ I could feel it like a choking darkness! An ominous sensation carried by the wind! A danger known only by deer just before the still of a forest was disturbed by the snapping of a twig!


    ¡­ In short, my finely honed princesses senses were tingling!


    ¡°I urgently require something that can dampen my natural glow,¡± I said, fixing my posture. ¡°I understand this is very difficult. Regardless, it¡¯s imperative that I¡¯m unable to be tracked. This is an emergency.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see! Well, given that you ran here¡ª¡±


    ¡°I didn''t run.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I have a fragile constitution. To even calmly walk here is a test of my delicate health.¡±


    The seamstress tilted her head and smiled.


    Her eyes went from the beads of non-existent sweat to the fine threads of my attire.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Well, given that you came here despite your delicate health, this truly must be an emergency. How is it that I can help? You wished for a disguise? Is this for an impromptu ball?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A masquerade of villains. And each one of them wearing a mask of harmless customer service. I need a new identity. What do you have available? Anything will do.¡±


    The seamstress''s eyes lit up as she motioned to the nearest thing on display.


    ¡°Anything? In that case, perhaps you''d consider this! A lovely lady''s buttoned doublet. Made for outdoor excursions, it¡¯s practical, durable and discreet while still remaining fashionable. The colours are demure enough to hide you both indoors and out. I believe it¡¯d serve you well.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, as do I.¡±


    ¡°Excellent! The cost is¨C¡±


    ¡°After all, not even I would recognise myself in something where the bottom button is loose. Next.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t realise ¡­ then what about this? It¡¯s one of our most popular spring gowns. It¡¯s light, versatile, fit for a swift exit and every other occasion.¡±


    ¡°Every occasion which involves public embarrassment, yes. The hem isn¡¯t even long enough to trail across the floor. If it can¡¯t be used as a weapon, it¡¯s no good.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I see ¡­ then what about this? It¡¯s a simple overdress, but effective for blending in with a crowd.¡±


    ¡°Not if they see the threading on the cuffs, no. They¡¯re not even symmetrical. Why, I may as well be wearing odd socks.¡±


    The seamstress''s smile tightened.


    Yes, exactly as she should be doing with her needlework.


    ¡°... Ah. In that case, I think it¡¯s best to take your time on seeing what you like. If you do decide on anything, I¡¯ll just be in the back room.¡±


    With that, the woman turned her heel and exited through a separate door.


    She left little cause for optimism behind. I needed a new disguise. But not one which threatened to erase my royal status altogether. In that case, I needed to make my way to the next store. And if necessary, the next town as well. Perhaps the next continent.


    After all¨C


    ¡°Hooo ¡­ been a while since I''ve been anywhere like this.¡±


    ¡°¨CHiieee?!


    It was unlikely that anything less would suffice.


    There he was.


    An elderly man appearing unnoticed behind me with all the slyness of a badger in the night.


    Not a single bead of sweat dampened his wrinkles, nor his smile. Lifting his stooped back slightly, he slowly turned his head like an owl at all the things I wouldn¡¯t be buying.


    ¡°Reminds me of Reitzlake¡¯s promenade. And also why I¡¯ve stopped visiting the place. Anything made for tourists is a little too colourful for my liking.¡±


    I stepped away, holding my arms up in the pose of a martial art I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to use.


    ¡°... H-How did you follow me?!¡±


    ¡°Well, it wasn''t easy, but you might say I''ve a dubious history involving these things. Ah, look at this. They do men''s tunics as well. Maybe it''s time I added something to my wardrobe after a decade.¡±


    He gave a chuckle. I didn''t join him.


    This man ¡­ why, he had the same aura as them!


    Yes, those who stood smiling behind a desk!


    He might not be wearing a receptionist¡¯s uniform, but he wielded the invisible cudgel of contempt towards my sleep all the same! I could see it clearly! That welcoming demeanour failed to hide the wicked thoughts bent on inconveniencing me as much as possible while somehow pretending it was what I wanted!


    Slowly, I began to step around him.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see,¡± I said with a brave smile. ¡°Then I wish you luck in finding something to replace what seems to have already been enjoyed by the moths. Now, if you''ll just excuse me ...¡±


    I stepped to the left of the man.


    And then I stepped to the right. And then back to the left.


    Again and again, I repeated the motion like a dance even I¡¯d need to bribe an audience to applaud. Especially as the man wasn¡¯t seeking to even mirror my efforts.


    Instead, he was doing something far more cumbersome.


    Taking his time to study the only thing on discount. Right in front of the door. Which I was certain he hadn¡¯t opened in order to enter.


    ¡°Ooph, am I in your way?¡± He scratched his back. Yes. Like a troll. ¡°My apologies, I''ll be out of your way in just a moment. My knees aren''t as good as they used to be.¡±


    ¡°Yes, they must have suffered greatly during your record breaking sprint here.¡±


    ¡°Well, I can still use my legs when the demand comes¨Calthough I do need a good pause afterwards. Especially if I¡¯m having to catch the attention of one who knows no rest. Eager to get to your next destination, huh? That''s very commendable. Have to say, it''s been a long time since anyone decided to not give me the time of day. But then again, most aren''t as busy as you are.¡±


    ¡°Busy. Yes. I''m extremely busy. In fact, I''ve no time to waste. I have things to do. So many that I can¡¯t even begin to put them into a list.¡±


    He gave a hearty smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain you do. And although I''m loath to distract you from those who seek your aid, I promise this won''t take up much of your time.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it won''t. I see as obvious as the door you¡¯re blocking that you''ve a mind to offer me some praise. Know, however, that it¡¯s entirely unnecessary. I do what I do solely for my benefit and nobody else¡¯s.¡±


    Far from being stunned at this revelation, the elderly man only nodded.


    ¡°Impressive. To heed only your own satisfaction is truly selfless. Such unthinking dismissal of the piles of gold crowns which usually come with my acknowledgement is quite unheard of.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯ve a pile of gold crowns you wish to do away with, then I can certainly consider it ¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve no doubt you would. Yet I wouldn''t dare waste your time only to humour me out of politeness.¡±


    ¡°No, it''s fine. In fact, I just so happen to have a few seconds to spare. Did you bring a treasure chest with you, perhaps? Is it outside?¡±


    ¡°It is. For outside is the greatest treasure there is. The smiles of the people, safe and sound¨Cif not in the knowledge of what you¡¯ve done, then certainly due to the results of it.¡±


    Ugh.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I rolled my eyes as the disappointment instantly set in. I could hardly sell happiness.


    ¡°Very well. I note the joy and accept it. Now, if you''ll just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it''s a shame so few are aware of who safeguards them against the darkness. Yours is a sword so dazzling that most can only see where the blade has struck long after the last blink. Normally, tales such as yours would precede you. And yet only my receptionist seems to be truly aware of what you¡¯ve accomplished. And now¨Cperhaps myself as well.¡±


    I pursed my lips as I considered the frail stature of the elderly man blocking the door.


    Then, I turned towards the next source of escape.


    The only window.


    ¡°... Heheh, what''d I tell you? Isn''t this great~?¡±


    Only to see the smile of my loyal handmaiden as she blocked it from outside.


    Nor was she the only one to do so. There was also a commoner, his mouth so wide that if I jumped out he¡¯d surely swallow me. And for some reason, also a random goblin she¡¯d kidnapped.


    ¡°Your handling of Miss Harten''s unfortunate lapse of judgement was exemplary,¡± said the elderly man as I immediately strode towards the fireplace. ¡°Few could have resolved such an affair without harming her. Indeed, that would have been wholly justified, for an A-rank adventurer falling under a spell of ambition is as sad as it is dangerous.¡±


    I lifted the grate blocking the hole.


    ¡°Is ¡­ Is that so? How admirable you make me sound. And while I don''t deny I¡¯m wonderful, it''d be appalling for me to accept such unwanted recognition. Why, I was aided by ...¡±


    I stopped to point at the commoner gawping through the window. The elderly man nodded.


    ¡°Ah, you mean Mr. Oxwell.¡±


    ¡°Him. Yes. He deserves recognition for his bravery in ¡­ in ¡­ rescuing the cat. Without him, the creature would have been mildly inconvenienced before escaping on his own accord. Because he''s a cat.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, and now the owner will be reunited due to his effort and yours. Although many will consider it the least of things, my opinion is that helping to ensure a cat¡¯s safety is as impressive as rescuing Miss Harten from the throes of darkness. I¡¯ve no doubt both will offer you their gratitude.¡±


    I leaned down in order to peer upwards through the chimney.


    All I saw was soot. An abyss deeper than any hole which could be dug. I shuddered at what I was thinking.


    ¡°Yes, well, if the woman wishes to offer her gratitude, then she may do so as a written admission of culpability. Every goblin and their cousin will know about this debacle soon.¡±


    Silence answered.


    I turned around, hoping the elderly man had magically vanished.


    He hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Indeed, Miss Harten''s role isn¡¯t yet over,¡± he said with a serious nod. ¡°That¡¯s a conversation I fear will be less pleasant than this. However, what¡¯s most important is that great harm was averted¨Cthanks in no small part to your skill. And so it¡¯s for this reason I wish to offer my apologies.¡±


    ¡°... For blocking the door?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But also because my next words are quite unworthy. After all, no acknowledgement can truly be deemed sufficient for what you¡¯ve achieved.¡±


    I was struck by horror.


    Here it was.


    The eyes filled with pride. The words of unabashed praise. The recognition that I was the only person with functioning limbs in the kingdom.


    Indeed ¡­ my princess senses were more than tingling!


    They were shaking me by the shoulders!


    ¡°That¡¯s why, I¡¯d like to¨C¡±


    ¡°Wait, stop, stopstopstop!¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    I held up my palms. Both of them. If I tried hard enough, perhaps a fireball would form.


    ¡°Whatever you are about to say ¡­ the answer is no!¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No! Absolutely no! That is the short version! For the long version, it is also no, but repeated until the shoreline has eroded into a single pebble! Whatever you¡¯re about to offer, well ¡­ I wholly refuse it!¡±


    A confused blink met me.


    ¡°... Are you sure? Although I''m certain your sword is a powerful thing, to decline the Severing Oath is something I¡¯m uneasy about accepting without hearing an argument why.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±


    ¡°The Severing Oath. It¡¯s an enchanted blade kept in the private vault of the Reitzlake guild branch. It was wielded by one of the first companions. It¡¯s a treasure which headquarters have been unable to pry from me despite their best efforts. An artifact held by only the most worthy, able to sweep aside foes with the very glint of its edge. Only those who symbolise the very tenets of the guild are ever permitted to wield it, such is its history and worth. As a result, few ever do.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°Is it expensive?¡±


    ¡°... Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°This treasured and historical artifact. Is it expensive?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes? Or rather, it¡¯s invaluable. The Severing Oath comes from a time of the guild¡¯s founding. And while I understand you¡¯ve already a fine sword, perhaps you might be surprised if you were to wield it. If nothing else, I would still offer it as a token of gratitude for what you have accomplished. I dare say it will look better by your hip than locked away inside a vault.¡±


    I nodded in consideration, then leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°Question.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You say ¡®invaluable¡¯. But everything has a value. If the sword were to, say, be sold back to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild, how much would it be purchased for?¡±


    The elderly man tilted his head ever so slightly.


    ¡°Uh ¡­ I''m not certain. But it would be an absurd amount.¡±


    ¡°Enough to bankrupt the guild?¡±


    ¡°Well, certainly enough to drain our coffers, yes.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°... My, why didn''t you say so! Then I accept the gratitude! ¡­ And also this ancient heirloom item of immeasurable cost! It¡¯s in Reitzlake, you say? In that case, I shall retrieve it at once for my troubles!¡±


    For a brief moment, the elderly man¡¯s smile almost seemed to quiver.


    The fleeting hesitation vanished as he turned towards the door, having now correctly decided not to purchase the tunic on discount.


    ¡°Good. Very good. I look forward to hearing what deeds you do with such an esteemed blade, then. It was a delight to have met you at last, Miss Juliette, brief as this meeting was. I do hope that when next we speak, it will be in more appropriate circumstances than this.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, this was a surprisingly most unpainful meeting.¡± I paused. ¡°This ¡­ This is the end of the meeting, yes?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    The man offered a smile as he made his way outside with an exaggerated limp.


    I continued bracing myself ¡­ all the way until he offered a polite nod as the door slowly came to a close.


    For a moment, nothing could be heard but the ticking of a clock, the gawping from a window and the sound of a town occupied by at least one flock of sheep clearly wondering where the grass was.


    I waited several more moments.


    Then, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.


    Safe.


    I ¡­ I was safe!


    ¡°Have you decided what you wish to purchase, miss?¡±


    ¡°¨CHiee?!¡±


    Immediately, I jumped slightly as the seamstress made her return.


    Her remarkably silent footsteps were not at all appreciated. But since I¡¯d been given that rarest of reprieves, I was also in a highly generous mood. And also forgiving.


    Thus, I turned to offer a helpful word of advice concerning her stitching.


    My lips parted ¡­ and then stayed parted as I realised to my puzzlement that the seamstress had returned with a different uniform. And also face. And hair. And smile.


    Because no matter how many years one worked in a shop, no smile could emulate the ones wielded by those who stood behind a receptionist¡¯s desk.


    Unyielding. Unbreaking. Unwavering.


    They were bright and professional. Yet one peek past the surface, and only darkness was revealed. A sea so hollow that light existed only to be devoured, fuelling the wicked schemes which controlled every movement and dictated every word.


    Before me, a familiar receptionist offered such a smile.


    It ¡­ It was her!


    ¡°Greetings!¡± said the harbinger of doom, withholding an obvious giggle of amusement. She hugged a sheet of parchment to her chest. ¡°I apologise for the sudden appearance. I understand you¡¯ve just finished your conversation with Guildmaster Quinsley. May I have a moment of your time?¡±


    ¡°Wha¨C¡± I pointed at once to the door to the other room. ¡°What ¡­ What did you do to the seamstress?!¡±


    The receptionist offered a tilt of her head. Whatever she said next was a lie.


    ¡°Hm? I haven¡¯t done anything. I believe she¡¯s currently enjoying her lunch. I apologised profusely for disturbing her and offered compensation for the guild taking up her business time.¡±


    My mouth widened ¡­ all the more so as I realised there was smoke rising from her shoulders and hair.


    ¡°E-Excuse me! Were you just on fire?!¡±


    The receptionist casually patted away the smoke. It made utterly no difference.


    ¡°I was in Reitzlake not long ago. I received a request from Guildmaster Quinsley for assistance in finalising matters of formality. He believes it¡¯s appropriate that I handle this given our past meetings. Due to the short notice, I was required to teleport to several guild branches, each acting as waystations with my colleagues assisting in the spellwork.¡±


    I took a step back ¡­ all the way until I was at the door of the shop.


    Frankly, I didn¡¯t know what was more horrifying. The fact that they were now openly conspiring against me or the knowledge that fire had no effect on them.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see ¡­¡± My lips bravely assumed a smile as I slowly reached for the door handle. ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m exceptionally busy and have no time for bureaucracy.¡±


    ¡°I understand. Few adventurers have chosen their profession in order to sign paperwork. However, none of that will be required now. I¡¯ve successfully finalised what we last discussed.¡±


    I stopped as the door began to creak open.


    Then, slowly, like a broken clock, I turned towards the smiling receptionist.


    ¡°W-What did we last discuss?¡±


    ¡°Your certificate.¡± She held out her suspect piece of parchment. ¡°You didn¡¯t specify which colour you wanted, so I chose a neutral one. If you prefer another, that can be arranged.¡±


    I looked at the certificate she held out.


    There, written in ink as black as despair, was little more than a short note.


    This certificate hereby certifies that the following member of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild has reached A-rank.


    JULIETTE.


    Reitzlake Branch.


    I stared.


    A moment later, I threw up my arms in outrage.


    ¡°Is this it ¡­ ?!¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°This! This is terrible! For something so likely to induce nightmares, why is it so plain?! ¡­ Even my 20 metre swimming certificate is more extravagant!¡±


    The receptionist offered a smile of apology


    ¡°Ah. This certificate is only a matter of formality. In truth, I believe most A-rank adventurers are not even aware we issue certificates until they receive it. For that reason, little thought is put into its design.¡±


    I was utterly appalled.


    There was only a single joy which could be derived from a certificate issued by the guild. And even that was now lamentable. How was I supposed to know I¡¯d burned this thing once it went into the hearth? It looked like any other piece of scrap kindling!


    ¡°Very well. In that case, you may keep it.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°My pouch might be bottomless, but that hardly means I can fill it up with clutter. It¡¯ll make reaching for the piles of crowns I¡¯ve legally accrued needlessly difficult.¡±


    The receptionist gave a small hum as she looked up in thought.


    ¡°Oh, I see! ¡­ That¡¯s certainly a legitimate concern.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, then I¡¯ll just be¨C¡±


    ¡°However, I believe I¡¯m still obliged to present this to you.¡±


    With that, she held out the certificate while smiling enthusiastically.


    I didn¡¯t take it.


    ¡°... Does this mean you¡¯ll haunt me until I wake up with this mysteriously smothering my face?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯m not aware of any drawer for the guild to store excess certificates.¡±


    Remarkable.


    She neither confirmed nor denied it.


    Truly an excellent staff member in the making. Once her smile no longer filled me with the black pits of remorse, I would go about hiring her before she could cause more damage.


    I quietly groaned, then reached out to pinch the very corner of the certificate like the linen napkins offered by inns. It¡¯d be held like this all the way until I could offer it as a snack for Apple.


    He¡¯ll be delighted.


    Especially as there were two of them.


    As I pinched the certificate, an identical sheet separated out from underneath. I raised a brow in confusion.


    ¡°... Why do I have a copy?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t a copy.¡±


    ¡°It looks exactly the same.¡±


    ¡°The design is the same. But the contents are slightly different.¡±


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then slowly leaned in to read it.


    This certificate hereby certifies that the following member of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild has reached S-rank.


    JULIETTE.


    Reitzlake Branch.


    The receptionist lightly applauded.


    ¡°Congratulations! You are now an S-rank adventurer!¡±


    As she smiled, wild claps joined her from the window. All of them by Coppelia as she wore the biggest smile I¡¯d ever seen. Beside her, the commoner had his mouth open so wide it seemed like he was attempting to eat the window.


    I blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve now reached S-rank. This is your certificate. For your convenience, I thought I should provide both of the certificates that you¡¯ve earned at the same time.¡±


    My mouth opened and closed.


    Eventually¨CI gently raised my hands and gestured around me. At a shop filled with dresses which would only serve to be used as poor quality bed stuffing.


    ¡°Is ... Is this it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Is there not more that''s required? A convocation perhaps? Endless debate bristling with blood and politics? Guildmasters across different nations striving to undermine each other? Official tests of worth filled with unneutral observers?¡±


    The receptionist gave a small, polite laugh into her hand.


    ¡°A meeting of guildmasters is only required for access to the B-rank trials. Once an adventurer has been accepted into the senior ranks, rules regarding advancement are ¡­ non-standard. There are traditions which are usually observed. However, Guildmaster Quinsley has indicated he¡¯ll be personally ensuring that no issues arise.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    I hummed in thought.


    Then, after staring at the ceiling for so long that a receptionist reached up to wave above me, I calmly walked around the shop, selecting the best dresses available and gathering them up in my arms.


    Once I had enough, I carefully placed them all in the middle of the floor in a tidy bundle.


    I nodded in satisfaction, brushed down my skirt and turned around.


    A moment later¨C


    Darkness took me as I collapsed.

 Chapter 344: The Worst Case Scenario

    S-rank.


    Even now, I knew little and cared less about the outlandishness of those who insisted on slapping a rank onto every little thing they did. Opening a door? D-rank. Failing a curtsey? A-rank. Sneezing in a polite manner? F-rank.


    If it existed, there was a way to measure it. It was the favoured hobby of brigands, strategists and the bored.


    But most of all¡ªadventurers.


    And amongst them all, there was one rank which they held above all others.


    The one deemed so impressive that not even a princess in her tower could escape from the wild murmurs about it. And now it had been assigned to me.


    In a common shop.


    By a receptionist showing the same professional smile she offered to brand new adventurers.


    Just like that.


    Yes ¡­ it was a disgrace!


    Here was a rank which symbolised the full eccentricity behind the Adventurer''s Guild!


    A lauded reward given to those who accidentally rescued the most cats by virtue of not loitering all day in the bottom of a wine barrel! For such stunning abstinence, I was now deemed worthy of their most sober honour! ¡­ And all without the least bit of formality or gloating!


    That¡¯s right!


    I had to create my own carpet of poorly spun dresses!


    Why, the fact that the Adventurer''s Guild saw fit to assign this rank to me with such nonchalance was like being casually insulted by the passing squawk of a Reitzlake gull!


    Not only was it an affront ¡­ but there wasn''t even any spite behind it!


    To drop such a humiliation upon me without even an echo chamber of drunken laughter and sniggering receptionists as they saw their schemes come to fruition was more than an opportunity missed! It was a mandatory requirement ignored!


    Thus ¡­ I refused to acknowledge it!


    Yes, just like the maids who tried to eject me from my bed.


    It was as simple as that.


    S-rank? This was utterly irrelevant. I was princess rank.


    What care did I, Juliette Contzen, have for the quirks of commoners?


    If rowdy peasants in inns could regularly name every passing barmaid the fairest of them all, then so could an organisation of wandering drunks assign me whatever rank they mistakenly deemed an accolade.


    My current status as masterfully incognito was a result of convenience only. I would be rid of it the moment I''d returned home. And with a deeply treasured artifact atop all else that was already promised to me, I was now well on my way to fully funding my guild replacement programme.


    Indeed ¡­ I was now one step closer to my goal!


    All endeavours required sacrifice. In this case, that was a smidgeon of time as I rolled my eyes.


    That I was willing to endure this to see every adventurer replaced by handpicked lackeys and fluffy chihuahuas was proof that I was a princess of the people. And just like the straightness of my hair, I would neither err nor stray from my royal task.


    That''s why¡ª


    ¡°Absolutely not!!¡±


    My eyes snapped open.


    What I saw immediately made them want to close again. Because far from the comforts of my bedroom, I saw instead the pale moonlight filtering through the clouds upon a town square. A somewhat puzzling sight which made me question if I was even awake.


    ¡­ But no matter!


    I refused to be cowed by the desperation of a guild hoping my humiliation would see me defeated before my enduring will.


    Thus, I clenched my fists as I instantly rose ¡­ and then fell back down again!


    Because there, sitting upon my lap, was the largest cat I''d ever seen.


    Most likely since it wasn''t a cat.


    It was a dire panther.


    ¡°Mrrowwrh?¡±


    I blinked ¡­ and it blinked back.


    Sleek, dark fur. Large golden eyes. A glossy nose. Springy whiskers. And paws boasting claws only slightly less sharp than the fangs which revealed themselves as it peeked up at me.


    Yes.


    I was deeply confused.


    As a soft breeze tussled my hair, I rubbed my eyes, helping to shoo away the fatigue from everywhere except my legs. However, that wasn''t just because there was a large predator lounging upon the most delicate pillow it would ever experience.


    It was instead because I was sitting on the least appropriate seat available.


    The hard ground.


    I peered around me ¡­ then found my ancestor, Prince Earlan the Stout, whose marble shin was very much as durable as his name would suggest. A calming, if rigid presence against my lower back. And also one of the few present to see my disorientation.


    The marketplace had been emptied.


    The lines of curious goblins and their sacks of ill-gotten gain were now gone, leaving only confusion and normal sized ledgers in their wake. Here and there, a few stallkeepers looked up in vain as they packed up their wares before returning with the dawn.


    They''d likely enjoy a short day.


    After all, the goblins were doubtless already gone¡ªeither to their matrons to begin the complaints process against the Adventurer''s Guild, or to the start of a new venture culminating in a sinister castle.


    In fact, only a single vendor still boasted a brisk business.


    After all¡ª


    ¡°Omnomonomonomom~¡±


    He only needed a single customer.


    Behind a familiar cart was a satisfied halfling.


    However, no matter how pleased his smile was, it was little compared to the happiness of a certain clockwork doll, her mouth stuffed like a squirrel full of acorns and thus someone I had no association with.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± he said to the famished maiden, whose puffed cheeks slightly resembled Coppelia. ¡°Not bad, huh? Goblin tastes with halfling ingenuity. A strange combination, but we''ve collaborated on stranger ventures.¡±


    After a moment, the cheeks returned to normal as all the acorns went down.


    Ah. It really was Coppelia.


    What a relief. As bountiful as my kingdom was, no harvest was sufficient for two of her. Especially since this halfling was doubtless more than willing to burn through our granaries using only his cart.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Amazing!¡± she said, holding out her palms for more. ¡°You need to sell this to the goblins too!¡±


    The halfling chuckled.


    Using a pair of tongs, he dipped into his pot and retrieved a pair of golden, round shaped ¡­ things. The aroma of something deeply unhealthy filled the air of a clear spring evening.


    He dropped one onto Coppelia''s waiting palm.


    The other, he offered towards my direction.


    ¡°Ah, I see our sleeping maiden has awoken,¡± he said cheerfully, shaking the thing waiting at the end of his tongs. ¡°Weary day, I take it?¡±


    The dire panther stretched and opened its mouth.


    The halfling obliged by tossing the food sparkling with a golden sheen straight into its jaws. Barely a second later, the large feline returned to its lounging state upon my lap.


    I poked at the dire panther.


    It didn''t move, and so I began to rub its sides instead. This was my life now.


    ¡°My days are weary by profession,¡± I answered, doing my best to at least shuffle my position. ¡°Nor are my evenings spared, either. Especially since I''m sitting on the ground ¡­ while something¡¯s sitting on me.¡±


    For a moment, I considered asking why I would be lying against a statue in the middle of a town square as if I''d been carried and then suddenly abandoned.


    Then, I watched as Coppelia''s cheeks slowly expanded ¡­ and all my questions were answered.


    Yes.


    There were many mysteries in the world. But why a princess would find herself forgotten when the magical cart of happiness came was not one of them.


    ¡°My apologies for the cat,¡± said the halfling, drawing nothing more than a low purr from the large creature in question. ¡°Personal space, I''m afraid, is an unfamiliar thing to her. Little of that can be found in the great outdoors.¡±


    ¡°Then I envy that cat. Little of it is found indoors as well. But at least escape is more likely.¡±


    ¡°True. I wouldn''t be in the business of damaging the taste buds of all who came across me if I couldn''t make myself scarce afterwards.¡±


    The halfling paused to study the remains of a busy marketplace, before dipping his tongs into his pot once more.


    ¡°A shame that won''t be an issue this time. I believe I arrived just too late to introduce myself to goblins. And there goes my next great plan. But good news¡ªI now have extra stock. You must be famished. Allow me to offer my newest invention. On the house.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow, wondering if every helping of this new invention Coppelia had sampled was on the house as well.


    I decided I¡¯d let her find out.


    ¡°What is it ¡­ ?¡± I asked, as curious as I was fretful.


    The halfling smiled with confidence even as his pot began to shake.


    ¡°Joy in breadcrumbed form. The life we of the road choose to lead is hard. But while I cannot offer to take away the weight of a dire panther sitting on your lap, I can at least offer some respite for your stomach. Would you like to try?¡±


    Out came the tongs, squeezing something which was likely as nourishing as the missing napkins.


    The halfling politely walked over and offered it above the dire panther. The feline gave a flick of a tail, but opted to let me experience the remorse which was everything which came from this dangerous cart.


    My hand did nothing but treasonously reach out to accept.


    ¡°You ¡­ You said it was designed for goblin tastes ¡­ what does that mean, exactly?¡±


    ¡°I mean it''s an opportunity for new markets gone begging. After all, it''s a moss cake.¡±


    ¡°A moss cake?!¡±


    I was aghast.


    Why, I hadn''t even eaten a regular moss cake!


    For one thing, I had no idea what that was ... and looking at the thing layered in breadcrumbs like a pigeon''s royal banquet, I still didn''t!


    ¡°A moss cake with a twist,¡± insisted the halfling. ¡°It¡¯s coated in a layer of spicy breadcrumbs, filled with goat''s cheese, a whole tomato slice and a dose of my secret seasoning.¡±


    I felt dishonoured just hearing it.


    A moss cake. Here was a thing so inappropriate for a princess''s palate that it would not even be mentioned near the Royal Villa. A thing clearly smothered in grease, boasting nothing but a fine breadcrumbed surface, a squishy and moist bounce, the scent of melted cheese and the warm steam rising invitingly in the night.


    I swallowed a gulp as memories assailed me.


    ¡°You need to try it,¡± said Coppelia between rare mouthfuls. ¡°Trust me, you''ll never think of moss the same way again!¡±


    ¡°This ¡­ This isn''t actually moss, is it ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°It''s goblin spinach.¡±


    Coppelia turned towards the halfling. She stared.


    ¡°It''s goblin spinach,¡± he agreed after a pause.


    My lips quivered.


    Eventually, however, I gathered myself with a deep breath and shook my head.


    ¡°I see ¡­ my apologies, Sir Halfling, but I regret I must decline. I¡¯ve a reputation as an implacable gourmand to uphold, and while I accept your usual fare is created to exceptional standards, not even creativity can save a moss cake. This is far too exotic for my delicate palate. I simply cannot allow myself to enjoy something which is clearly om nom nom nom nom sooooo good ¡­ ?!¡±


    It happened again!


    The spell of bewitchment!


    ¡°Great, huh?¡± said Coppelia, her gluttonous delight half the spellwork. ¡°It¡¯s crunchy with a soft interior!¡±


    I rapidly shook my head ¡­ all the while I continued to chew.


    Salty. Greasy. Coarse. Heavy.


    Yet again, my delicate taste buds, nurtured by a strict diet of strawberry shortcakes in the middle of the night, were now being lost amidst a portable, bitesize and handheld fondue of melted cheese.


    ¡­ It was genius! But also terrible!


    ¡°W-Why does this not result in revulsion?!¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± said the halfling, holding up his palms. ¡°But not the type any mage can do. Want another? I''ve plenty of leftovers.¡±


    I looked towards the tongs being invited back into the pot.


    All I saw were my princess points dwindling by as much as 0.01%. I shook my head once more.


    ¡°Thank you, but I shall pass. I fear this isn¡¯t good for my station ¡­ or constitution.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Coppelia much to my surprise. ¡°Moss cakes are a snack. You can''t have too many or it''ll ruin the main thing. Speaking of which, where are the sandwich melts?¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± The halfling''s smile dipped. ¡°I''m afraid I''ve no ingredients for sandwich melts.¡±


    Coppelia gasped.


    I''d never seen her look so betrayed. Not even when I once stole the nice pillow from her.


    ¡°That''s awful! ¡­ Want me to get you a cow? Because I can get you a cow.¡±


    ¡°No, uh, I don''t need a cow. It''s actually the brioche I''m missing.¡±


    ¡°Got it! What do you want me to kill?¡±


    ¡°For brioche? Whoever governs bad luck, I suppose. It''s nothing you or I can do. Marinsgarde has much to offer, but not in the way of fresh stock to put inside my cart.¡±


    I offered the look of confusion that deserved.


    ¡°Excuse me? Is there some sort of food shortage in Marinsgarde?¡±


    ¡°Of brioche ingredients? Sure. Can''t find a slab of butter to save my life. Eggs aren''t much easier to find and sugar has gone the way of the golden moose.¡±


    I gasped in horror.


    ¡°There''s a shortage of butter, eggs and sugar? ¡­ But those are the constituent ingredients for cake! How ¡­ How does anyone not starve?¡±


    The halfling chuckled.


    He stopped when he saw my distressed expression.


    ¡°Uh, well, other things are still available, so I wouldn''t worry. Just a few luxuries is all. Besides, the people here have moss cakes. And normal ones are fairly frugal to make.¡±


    ¡°That is hardly an excuse! Have the traders forgotten to barter with those other than goblins?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s most likely that many traders never arrived. The Wessin Bridge is closed.¡±


    I was shocked.


    The Wessin Bridge guarded the estuary into Reitzlake. While its primary function was to defend the river passage, the bridge itself connected the northern and southern halves of the coastline. It was the span which connected Wirtzhaven and Trierport on either side.


    And it was never closed.


    ¡°Why would that be? Did a warship try to invade the royal capital and crash into it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it''s nothing like that. It''s just blocked because of the locals.¡±


    I raised my arms in exasperation. A dire panther shifted, demanding to be rubbed again. I duly obliged.


    ¡°That''s a terrible place to loiter! Why can''t they do that in an inn?¡±


    ¡°Well, uh, I don''t think they''re loitering.¡±


    ¡°No? What are they doing, then?¡±


    ¡°Last I heard, they were protesting.¡±


    I could do nothing but stare ¡­ all the while my mouth slowly widened.


    ¡°Excuse me? What do you mean by ¡­ ¡®protesting¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Well, I mean what I mean? They''re airing their grievances.¡±


    ¡°Who is? The local peasantry? The farmers?¡± My hand slowly covered my mouth. ¡°... A peppy farmer, perhaps, freckled, muddy, barely older than I am and wielding a pitchfork?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, can''t really say. I haven''t been there. But most protests involve farmers. And sometimes they can be peppy, freckled and muddy. Occasionally they might have pitchforks as well.¡±


    My lips were suddenly very dry.


    ¡°¡­ And what are they protesting against, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Well, the usual, I imagine. The lack of security, the cost of goods, the wealth of the royal¨C¡±


    The halfling paused, suddenly becoming very still.


    ¡°But I wouldn''t overly worry,¡± he suddenly said with a breezy smile. ¡°It''s just been a rough few months, what with all the mess in the royal capital, the poor harvest, the pirates and then the sky turning black. Then there''s all the usual problems. Wolves, thieves and rogue fruit slimes. I''m sure it''ll pass once everyone feels more assured. It¡¯s not like it¡¯s a rebellion.¡±


    The halfling continued his smile as he awaited my reply.


    After a moment, he turned to Coppelia.


    ¡°... Is she okay?¡±


    ¡°Hm? Oh, she''s fine.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? She''s just staring. Blankly.¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ it''s what happens when fainting isn''t enough. Hey, can we have some moss cakes to go? I think she''ll need them.¡±

 Chapter 345: Chasing Mirages

    Bodkins Tangleleaf always regretted visiting the Adventurer''s Guild.


    But it wasn''t that he was no longer welcome.


    On the contrary, the only discomfort he normally felt was when all the faces he''d never known slapped him on the back like an old friend, before forcing him to sample the local variety of watered down ale and whatever counted as food in the communal cauldron.


    There weren''t too many halflings in the Kingdom of Tirea, after all. And of them, few were crazy enough to do what he did.


    That''s not to say that halflings weren''t adventurous. On the contrary, halflings made up a disproportionate number of adventurers, all things considering.


    But even the boldest of them would admit that Bodkins was nuts.


    He was part of the Golden Hogs, and only the very dumbest would be part of that group of misfits. But that also meant stories. And stories meant slaps on the back.


    It wouldn''t always last, of course.


    One of these days, a newer, faster and better halfling would join an adventuring party with even less hiring requirements than the Golden Hogs, and then he''d be relegated to a name on the tip of a tongue.


    That day would have to wait.


    Because right now, exactly half of the Golden Hogs had returned. Unofficially, yes. But it didn''t take an active guild commission to cause trouble. That was something which came naturally.


    Especially when one¡¯s partner was an absent rapscallion.


    Bodkins thought it was suspicious when that elven druid he sometimes called his party member slinked away to go chase a pigeon instead of joining him at the guild. And no wonder. Because for all the problems that woman solved with magic or claws, she did less well when needing to use conversation.


    Seeing what he did now, there were at least several in front of him.


    Upon the receptionist''s desk was a small pile of copper rings. A worrying sight, were it not for the scenes of jubilation around the guild hall of the Marinsgarde branch.


    There was boisterousness. There was flinging alcohol. And there were tears.


    Lots of tears.


    ¡°They''re gone ¡­ I can''t believe it ¡­ they''re actually gone!¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I passed under a tree and nobody threw a cat over me!¡±


    ¡°I''m ¡­ I''m so happy ¡­ I can feed my family ...¡±


    ¡°Look at that! There''s already a poster on the wall! It''s so creased and beautiful ...¡±


    Laughter hoarse with relief and gratefulness filled the air as adventurers huddled together. Barely a fist was thrown as they hugged, bumped shoulders and hopped like excited children.


    It merged with a resounding cheer as a call for wine filled the common room.


    Wine.


    And not the stuff which congealed in the kegs. But wine from actual bottles.


    It must have been a great occasion.


    Either a rampaging frost mammoth had been stopped or it was somebody''s birthday. And given that not nearly enough people were drunk yet, it usually meant the former.


    But if that was true, he imagined that the only person here capable of such a feat would currently be suspended high in the air, perpetually tossed by an eager crowd.


    Instead, she was occupying a corner by her lonesome, respectfully ignored on account of her forehead being stuck to her table.


    Marinsgarde''s very own A-rank.


    Liliane Harten ¡­ possibly.


    Bodkins couldn''t be 100% certain, but he was reasonably confident. She still possessed the same distinct auburn hair that he remembered.


    But most of all, it was the lack of alcohol around her.


    Not drunk, then. Just inconsolable.


    Why that would be the case was a concern. And if Bodkins had even the slightest respect for his own sense of caution, he''d let it be. But he hadn''t travelled from the other side of the kingdom just to take advantage of the lack of traders from the south.


    He came because of goblins.


    Thus, meandering past the legs of those dancing, hugging and hopping, he grabbed two tankards of ale from somebody else''s table and placed them before the comatose woman.


    Both were for her.


    ¡°Looks like it''s been a long day for everyone except me, eh?¡± he said as he cheerfully helped himself to a chair. ¡°I''m not sure whether to be happy or anxious. Cedric would say this is a deserved rest. Thomas would claim it was a false peace before a storm. Funny. Despite not being the bard, that man always had a natural way with theatrics.¡±


    For a moment, no response came.


    But then, as though lifted by a memory of his famously social candour, Liliane cautiously turned her face to the side and peeked up.


    Her eyes were slightly red, but it was nothing compared to the red blotch stamped to her forehead.


    Bodkins chose not to comment.


    ¡°Mr. Tangleleaf,¡± she said, her voice hoarse. She swallowed a gulp to wet her throat. ¡°... Is that you?¡±


    ¡°Just Bodkins will do,¡± he replied with a smile. ¡°We''ve met enough times that you can toss away the formality. To be clear, that number is permanently set at one. Mr. Tangleleaf is what my cousins call me, and goodness knows I try to think about them as little as possible while they complain I''m not sharing my secret treasure hoard with them that everyone knows I definitely have.¡±


    Liliane blinked.


    Despite her attempts to clear her eyes, there was a haze to them which the redness of fatigue couldn''t explain.


    Bodkins could spot it at once. The residual effects of ¡­ something not good.


    He''d seen it all too often. And only the lucky could find themselves planting their forehead on a table for it.


    Thus, he offered all his courtesy, waiting as Liliane simply continued to stare.


    The awkwardness lasted slightly longer than he wanted. But having decided he was either real or not leaving, she slowly raised herself. A half-hearted attempt was made at flicking away the many strands of auburn hair which were now blocking one of her eyes.


    ¡°... It feels inappropriate to refer to you so candidly,¡± she said, needing to swallow a few more gulps. She looked at the ale, then deliberately chose to ignore them. ¡°The last time you were here, I recall a dead basilisk being involved. And also a parade.¡±


    Bodkins gave a hearty laugh.


    ¡°Oh yeah. That was a great one. We don''t normally do parades, but we don''t normally do whole basilisks either. Between the claws, swords and magic, it''s usually bits and pieces of extra salty stew by the end of it. But that day? Arrow straight through the eye. Swoosh.¡±


    He imitated an arrow being plucked.


    In truth, it''d taken his entire quiver. And it wasn''t even the arrow which had struck the final blow. It was the tree he''d felled due to the sheer force he¡¯d run into it. After all, it was damn hard to see anything with his eyes closed. He could still hear the laughter.


    But Liliane didn''t need to know that.


    ¡°It was ¡­ impressive,¡± she said, her shoulders falling. ¡°I was just a D-rank adventurer at the time. I don¡¯t think you even knew me back then. But it was one of the reasons I transferred to the guild in Granholtz.¡±


    ¡°And what a superb idea that was.¡± Bodkins nodded in all seriousness. ¡°More horrors to slay over there than there are spaces in taverns to boast in. I''m sad we never got to work together. But I dare say I only would have slowed you down. My congratulations on reaching A-rank. I''m proud to say you¡¯re both unofficially and officially better than me.¡±


    Liliane looked down at the table.


    ¡°You retired,¡± she said simply.


    ¡°Indeed, I did. I retired. And all''s fair in love, war and rising up the ranks. Besides, I wouldn''t have made A-rank even if I''d continued. Too irresponsible.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Tangle¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Bodkins placed his hand to his ear. ¡°Mr. Tangle? Who''s that?¡±


    ¡°... Bodkins, you''re renowned for your marksmanship and endless commendations. Irresponsibility isn''t something associated with your name¡ªas it is now with mine.¡±


    Liliane''s lips remained parted, held up by the words she wished to add. Even so, nothing came out.


    Bodkins offered his most patient smile.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Oh? What happened? Lose a drinking game to a new F-rank?¡±


    His company bit her lips, then continued staring at the table.


    ¡°... I made a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Because we''ve all done that. Rookies, eh? Nothing if not adamant. Not much good in the field, but even the worst of them can drink a dwarf to death if it¡¯s their first challenge.¡±


    ¡°I didn''t lose at a drinking game, Bodkins. I endangered the lives and well-being of everyone around me ¡­ including a small tribe of goblins.¡±


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s a new one. What did you do?¡±


    ¡°I tried commandeering them into the abyss as part of a poorly planned expedition to rise to S-rank.¡±


    Bodkins clicked his fingers. Oddly, it made Liliane flinch.


    ¡°Aha! So there''s my answer! I''d heard rumours of goblin adventurers. I''m pleased you were so quick to answer my burning curiosity. Usually I have to start bribing people with the tale of how I learned proper roasting techniques from a dragon before anyone tells me anything.¡±


    Liliane placed her elbows on the table, needing both palms to cradle her forehead.


    ¡°You don''t understand. I wore a crown. A crown of empowerment. It was a ¡­ poor choice. And the result was that I ended up enthralling goblins, helped awaken a stone titan and also kidnapped one of my fellow adventurers.¡±


    Liliane paused.


    ¡°... And also his cat.¡±


    Bodkins nodded.


    And then he waited.


    ¡°Is that it or ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡­ ''is that it''?¡±


    ¡°Well, I''m just asking if there''s anything more.¡±


    ¡°There isn''t. How could there even be more?¡±


    The laugh which Bodkins gave was enough to cause every head to turn in his direction. A few eyes widened as they realised at last who he was.


    None were wider than those of the woman opposite him.


    ¡°Bodkins! This isn''t a laughing matter! Didn''t you hear what I just said?¡±


    ¡°Indeed I did. And I do see you''ve quite the problem. That''s the beginning of a story you''ll now have to repeat just to get a drink.¡±


    ¡°That wasn''t a brag.¡±


    ¡°True, which is why I said the beginning of a story. It''s lacking a bit of oomph. You need something extra. Maybe an ancient lair to some hidden evil being unsealed. A meteor falling from the sky. Because putting on nefarious magical items, awakening deadly adversaries and even kidnapping the odd cat is perfectly normal for a high ranked adventurer. I''m shocked this hasn''t happened before.¡±


    ¡°I''m being serious.¡±


    ¡°So am I.¡± Bodkins reached forwards and grabbed one of the tankards for himself. His company no longer needed both. ¡°Mistakes are part and parcel of adventuring. You know that.¡±


    ¡°This is more than a mistake. I involved goblins.¡±


    ¡°And I''m sure they''ll put up a fuss. Just as we do when they involve adventurers in their own mistakes. The continent is a big place. And those treaties are as easy to ruffle as a bird in flight. There''s even an office in headquarters just to deal with it. It''s a well oiled process. Trust me when I say the biggest crime you''ve committed is occupying the valuable corner table all to yourself.¡±


    Liliane shook her head, adamant in her own self-reproach.


    ¡°I cannot escape repercussions. Nor do I deserve to.¡±


    ¡°Was it a cursed crown?¡±


    ¡°No, a self-aware magical artifact imbued with nefarious ambition.¡±


    ¡°Ah, one of those. Well, makes no difference. Did you put it on intending to develop your own nefarious ambitions?¡±


    ¡°No, I was hoping to avoid being eaten by jewel spiders.¡±


    ¡°Well, there you have it. While everyone wishes to resist the power of dangerous magical artifacts, the truth is that the guild wouldn''t even be needed if this wasn¡¯t a regular occurrence. You won''t find yourself in a cell for it.¡±


    ¡°A cell would be too kind. I expect to be removed from the guild.¡±


    ¡°Then I''m sad to say your fears are misfounded. While it''s hard to climb the Oldest Ladder, it''s even harder to be booted off from it. You need to do something quite heinous. And a magical crown just doesn''t quite meet the criteria. Expect your access to the free bar removed, a stern talking to, and likely an unfortunate trek to whichever mountain the goblins have founded their secret kingdom under to serve as their personal lackey for a few months.¡±


    The woman slowly tapped at the side of her tankard. Like a child poking a dead slug.


    ¡°That isn''t enough ¡­ not for me. The only reason that crown held sway is because I didn¡¯t possess the strength of other A-ranks. To have been given the rank was a mistake. To keep it even more so.¡±


    The casual chuckles fell away from Bodkins.


    Instead, he offered the finest reprimand any adventurer could receive. A snort.


    ¡°Did you bribe your way to your rank?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Just answer.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not.¡±


    ¡°Did you leave your team behind to die to a giant poisoned toad while you lived to tell a different tale?¡±


    ¡°No ¡­ have you?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± said Bodkins, as he cheerfully took a sip from his tankard. ¡°But what this means is that both you and I earned our ranks. And rightly so. After all, if only those who carved aside the wicked with a sweep of the hand could garner accolades, there''d be none left to ensure they didn''t die before reaching that moment. Your rank is a symbol of your own strength. Perhaps it''s not a shuddering storm, but I imagine those you adventured with didn''t care¨Cnor those you¡¯ll come to adventure with in the future.¡±


    A sign of life showed itself.


    Slowly, but surely, Liliane began to sit up straight. It wasn¡¯t anything a receptionist could mimic even if they tried to be sloppy, but it was getting there.


    After all, Bodkins more than understood.


    Compared to Thomas, the rest of the Golden Hogs had every right to feel like they were passengers on a witch''s broomstick. And at first, some of them did. But it was only ever a short doubt. Cedric was technically C-rank, yet without his lute and his heart, they never would have survived the first night that squirrels had stolen their provisions.


    Thus, he nodded encouragingly as the A-rank adventurer opposite him studied the dying froth upon her tankard. The bubbles slowly went, falling at the same rate as Liliane¡¯s shoulders.


    And then¡ªshe did the most appropriate thing possible.


    She grabbed the tankard and downed it without pause.


    Glug. Glug. Glug.


    It came down again with a slam.


    As her eyes looked up, it was suddenly more than clarity which had replaced the haze. It was something else. A spark of something long gone cold. A candle brought to life in the darkness.


    Or maybe that was just the ale.


    ¡°Thank you. I needed that.¡±


    ¡°You''re welcome.¡±


    ¡°I know what to do now. I won''t wait for my punishment to come to me. I''ll meet it instead.¡±


    ¡°That''s the spirit.¡±


    ¡°I''m going to quit as an A-rank adventurer.¡±


    Bodkins smiled ¡­ then blinked.


    It wasn''t often his famed ''little talks'' utterly failed. But this was fairly disastrous.


    He was clearly losing his edge.


    ¡°Uh, wait, that wasn''t quite what I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°I''m going to quit ... and then rejoin.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Liliane nodded, determination scribbled upon her expression.


    ¡°I''ve decided. I''m going to become an F-rank adventurer again.¡±


    Utterly stunned, Bodkins could do nothing but gawp as the woman opposite him stood up, her chair crashing behind her.


    ¡°I''ve been remiss, Bodkins. I tried to take a shortcut. All this time, I wanted to escape the shadows of my peers. But now I see how wrong I was. Those shadows came from a light so dazzling that they stretched from the far horizon, like a mirage I could never touch. To reach them, I must try again. I must try harder. I must try properly. This time, I won''t ¡­ I can¡¯t stop. I¡¯ll do this the right way. The adventurer''s way. Instead of fearing my betters, I should be striving to stand by their side instead. By her side.¡±


    Liliane clenched her fists around the handle of a tankard. The one belonging to Bodkins. She raised it and gulped it down as easily as she did her first drink.


    Glug. Glug. Glug.


    ¡°... You may not know this,¡± she said as she wiped the froth from her lips to a smattering of applause. ¡°But there''s been a rising star in the guild. A girl younger than any of us when we started. She was the one who brought me back to my senses.¡±


    In answer, Bodkins reached over to the next table and borrowed a new tankard.


    Naturally, he''d heard more than his fair share of rumours. Each more curious than the last. He didn''t involve himself in them, of course. He''d lost that right the moment he''d retired.


    But most of all, he felt it was only polite to keep out of his customers'' business.


    ¡°Oh? I''m afraid I''ve been on the road far too long to keep up with gossip.¡±


    ¡°I imagine the gossip will find you soon enough. It''s ironic, really. But my ill-fated quest to achieve S-rank is what led to her achieving it instead.¡±


    Bodkins blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me? She''s ... S-rank?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°When did that happen?¡±


    ¡°Just a short while ago. I had the pleasure of listening to Timon Quinsley''s receptionist confirming it while I sat in a cart."


    Now Bodkins was truly confused.


    Of all the things he expected to hear, that Timon Quinsley, weasel of the kingdom, was having his receptionist handing out S-rank titles in Marinsgarde wasn''t one of them.


    For one thing, that was very much a right he didn''t possess.


    Thankfully, however, that man''s face face was still the last thing on his mind.


    ¡°This girl ¡­ what''s her name?¡±


    Liliane paused. A look of deliberation briefly flashed across her face.


    ¡°Juliette,¡± she said simply. ¡°She introduced herself as Juliette.¡±


    Bodkins could only stare.


    He caught himself eventually, before breaking into his widest smile.


    ¡°Hah.¡±


    Liliane raised a brow.


    ¡°Is something amusing ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all, just glad to live in such interesting times ¡­ makes me all the happier that the Golden Hogs are back. Wouldn''t want to miss out on the fun.¡±


    Now it was Liliane''s turn to look stunned.


    ¡°You''re returning? ¡­ With Thomas, too?¡±


    Bodkins shrugged.


    ¡°Who knows? I''d need to find him first. He isn''t in his bar. Or anywhere else, for that matter."


    Liliane paused, her lips pursed in thought.


    ¡°In that case, perhaps his apprentice might know.¡±


    ¡°... Who?¡±


    She pointed to a figure occupying the bar.


    Specifically, behind it.


    Much to his surprise, Bodkins saw a young man he recognised by virtue of him having once poured his drink.


    Caban Oxwell.


    The lad Thomas had taken on, as much due to pity as his good eye for talent. He''d been proven right. The lad had drawn a few rumours of his own. Already a C-rank adventurer, he was well on his way to someday opening his own bar after running away from his first corrupted flesh melder.


    Why he was standing behind the bar was a mystery.


    Why he was pouring a cup of ale into another cup, before repeating the motion back and forth like an absent minded barkeeper with no customers was another. In truth, he had a small queue wondering why he wasn''t pouring them their wine.


    ¡°... Is he okay?¡±


    ¡°No. I may need to call for a cleric.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Bodkins nodded as he saw the blank eyes and endless stare.


    Still, perhaps he''d had a long day as well.


    After all, it was very similar to how a young maiden had appeared when informed that a gathering of simple farmers, tradesmen and other villagers were deeply discontent.


    But that was a reason to feel optimistic.


    Whatever his concerns, that girl would doubtless seek to do away with them.


    Although Bodkins mostly knew her as one of his best customers, he''d never forget that she was first and foremost a princess. And while he couldn''t claim to know what went on in the mind of one who journeyed so far from her tower, he did know one thing with utmost certainty.


    That right now¡ª


    She must be feeling deeply sympathetic for the plight of her people.

 Chapter 346: To Douse The Flames

    I threw open the shutters of a common inn room.


    Usually, when I peered through my window in the morning, it was to the sight of my fair kingdom winking at me. No matter where I cast my eyes, fields sparkled with morning dew as crouching servants sprinkled water upon the grass, while tall oaks waved to a gentle breeze and also the squires hiding behind them.


    This time, there wasn¡¯t any of that.


    Instead, there was an alleyway.


    With a bucket. A cat. And a drunkard.


    A snore sounded, disturbed only by the clinking of an empty bottle as the cat rolled it away. It paused and looked up at me. I looked down at it. And then I offered a nod.


    Why adventurers insisted on disturbing cats, I had no idea.


    Cats did away with rodents, litter and at least one empress with noted designs on conquering my kingdom. They were a paragon of community service.


    And as it happens, so was I.


    I winced and held up my hand.


    Beyond a windowsill ground down by the tears of those who peeked out hoping for a better view than a Marinsgarde alleyway, the dawn blinked over the horizon of rooftops, its warming light a reward for me having already accomplished a harrowing feat today.


    Yes ¡­ waking up early!


    ¡­ Which isn¡¯t to say I never woke up early. I just had little need to.


    After all, only those who were behind on their work needed to sacrifice their sleep. And as a princess who diligently completed all of my assigned tasks shortly after judging and throwing out the first crumpet, I was a force of efficiency.


    Now, however, my schedule was bursting at the seams¨Cand all with the same agenda.


    Rescuing my kingdom.


    That¡¯s right!


    It was time to stamp out a peasant revolt!


    I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, could not stand idly by while my subjects raised their pitchforks in ire!


    It took only a spark for a bonfire to light. And a gathering of farmers organised enough to halt a major bridge?


    Why, that was already a flame so bright I could hear the crackling.


    Indeed ¡­ my kingdom was imperilled!


    Even now, I could hear the foundations groaning beneath the weight of this looming catastrophe.


    And frankly ¡­ I had no idea why!


    So long as their hands were unimpeded, then so should their focus!


    Were my people not joyful and prosperous? Were my fields not wet and muddy? Were their days of toil and sweat not warmed by the safe knowledge that only fruit slimes, badgers and women in scandalous attire sought to threaten their unrelenting hardship?


    ¡­ Because if not, they should be!


    Why, I¡¯d helped ensure it!


    From the fields of Rolstein to the edges of the Wovencoille, I¡¯d personally endeavoured to punt away every blemish which prevented them from working themselves to the bone!


    Through my careful use of diplomacy, I¡¯d made sure that the only disturbance to their grueling labour came when a sniffle of regret was carried by a wind all the way from an island soon to be improved by a goblin¡¯s dream castle!


    Yet despite this ¡­ all I saw waiting before me was a nightmare.


    A gathering of discontent peasants.


    I shuddered despite the morning warmth.


    It was the most dire thing I¡¯d heard since the news that my etiquette tutor was postponing her retirement for another year. Because while I could conceivably hide within the vast abyss of my wardrobe without once venturing out for food or water, this was a threat I couldn¡¯t simply wait out by burying my head amidst the books I smuggled ahead of time.


    Indeed ¡­ for how often had such a thing heralded the falling of kingdoms? Of anarchy and smouldering rubbles? Of pillows stolen away from my own bed chamber?


    Clearly, this demanded my full attention.


    And that meant ¡­ provisions!


    Bwam.


    Kneeing the door to our room inwards, Coppelia returned with a smile bright enough to drown out the sun. Her satisfaction was clear to see. As were her arms laden with important nutrients.


    There was just one problem.


    ¡°Okay!¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°I have moss cakes!¡±


    I turned away from the window and nodded, grateful for my loyal handmaiden¡¯s diligence.


    But again.


    There was just one problem. All bundled into her arms.


    ¡°My, how wonderful! Thank you for venturing out so early.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha~ it¡¯s fine. I like waking up early. When people see me smiling in the morning, they look so bitter and resentful. It¡¯s great!¡±


    ¡°Indeed, your enthusiasm is the example all my people should follow. Especially if it means less time causing a ruckus in the common rooms of inns late into the night. I notice you¡¯ve purchased quite a lot. I don¡¯t recognise some of it ¡­ or indeed any of it. What else did you purchase?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see ¡­ I have moss cookies. I have moss cones. I have moss truffles. And I have something which looks like moss but it¡¯s probably mould. Don¡¯t eat that one. I think the bakery gave it to me by accident.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ and then simply stared.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Far from the usual assortment of buttery pastries and other healthy snacks, all I saw was green. Some of which was, indeed, a slightly less uniform shade than the rest.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see ¡­ Coppelia, may I ask why you only chose the moss variety of provisions ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Because it was a great deal! I got this all practically for free. None of the goblins were there to buy it and humans haven¡¯t caught on yet. This is just what I could carry. If you want, we can get even more!¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s do that. And also inquire about any hazelnut croissants they have available while we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°In that case, they¡¯ll probably just look all glum to you as well. The magic halfling was right. No cake ingredients means no pastries. It¡¯s moss for breakfast, lunch and dinner.¡±


    I quietly groaned.


    It was the worst case scenario. Or rather, the worst case after the existing worst case. Even before the first call to arms was sounded against my kingdom, it was already a calamity.


    ¡°Is ¡­ Is there truly nothing but moss available? How do the people eat?¡±


    ¡°They eat other things. Like normal bread.¡±


    I gave it a moment of consideration, then bravely steeled myself.


    ¡°Very well, petits pains au lait fourr¨¦s au ch¨¨vre is a bit rustic ¡­ but I can make do if necessary!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not normal bread. That¡¯s lunch with a bonus of bread.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What is normal bread, then?¡±


    ¡°Normal bread doesn¡¯t have stuff in it. Just flour. And water. Maybe a dash of salt if it¡¯s fancy.¡±


    My hands covered my mouth.


    ¡°T-That is horrible ¡­ why, not even the louts on Soap Island are forced to consume such pitiful fare ¡­ !¡±


    ¡°Really? What do they eat then?¡±


    ¡°Exactly! We cannot allow this injustice to continue! By wantonly engaging in threats of rebellion, these thoughtless commoners selfishly seeking a better life for themselves and their families are causing the innocents of my kingdom to suffer ¡­ including us!¡±


    I scrunched up my fists against my chest and nodded.


    Indeed, it was time to nip this in the bud!


    The Wessin Bridge was hardly a log upon a stream. It was a vital piece of infrastructure, a fortification and a popular tourist spot all in one. Any gathering of farmers large enough to block critical supplies had to mean they¡¯d spilled out from the bars and taverns expressly designed to placate them.


    A dire matter. So much so, that Coppelia could only slightly raise her fist in excitement.


    Especially while she was juggling the snacks only she and Apple would eat.


    ¡°Wooooooo~! You¡¯re going to [Ball Of Doom] your peasants off a bridge!¡±


    ¡°C-Coppelia?! I would never do such a thing!¡±


    ¡°... Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m sure! ¡­ Why, even if that fixed all my problems, could you imagine the lies said about me if I punted my own peasants off a bridge? They¡¯d claim I was anything less than a gentle princess!¡±


    Coppelia could only giggle, such was the absurdity of the thought. She then offered a nod.


    ¡°Alrighty, then! What do we have planned if it doesn¡¯t involve punting peasants?¡±


    I abruptly paused.


    Then, I gave it a moment¡¯s thought.


    In fact, it was the same moment¡¯s thought which had been occurring since the night.


    This was no ordinary problem, after all. It was the problem. The number #1 cause for fallen kingdoms since records began. And in that, history was firm on the matter.


    A peasant revolt couldn¡¯t simply be whisked away with a gentle breeze or even the boot of authority.


    The embers would remain, waiting in the mud to rise once again.


    After all, once the flames had risen, they could no longer be calmed. It was as wild and frightening as a common pigeon which had flown into the kitchens, refusing to stop until that which had invited it was utterly consumed.


    Any lull was but a false dawn supported by charred beams and shaken foundations. It might take a day, a year or a decade. But the walls would eventually crumble.


    And were I a lesser princess, this would be where I¡¯d tremble with dismay.


    ¡­ Fortunately, I wasn¡¯t just a princess. I was a genius!


    And that meant ¡­ I wouldn¡¯t simply fix this! Instead, I¡¯d also use this as an opportunity to lay to rest any further murmurs of discontent down the road too!


    Yes, just as I could rely on future me, so too could she rely on me!


    ¡°Ohohohoho!¡± I raised a hand to my lips and smiled. ¡°Why, the plan is that we fix everything¨Cboth now and tomorrow!¡±


    Indeed, where others saw misfortune, I saw opportunity!


    A peasant revolt was awful. But the fact remained that this could be worse. Had Reitzlake been the scene of such discontent, then the flames would already have spread to all the corners of my kingdom.


    As it was, there was still a chance for the kindling to be doused before they were fully ablaze. And that was a gentle steam which would be seen as far as the smoke it replaced.


    One fanned by a princess whose image needed to be repaired in the eyes of her most loyal retainer.


    Desperately so.


    Yes. I admit this was starting to become a problem.


    Because every now and again, my highly keen senses told me Coppelia sometimes forgot I was a princess. Indeed, sometimes I felt like a pillow. More than once I¡¯d found her snoring with her face squished against my back or my shoulder.


    Thus, I offered a sample of what was to come.


    My beautiful smile.


    ¡°Indeed, as frightening as any gathering of peasants is, this is not a road which has never been navigated. Why, all we must do to soothe their unreasonable ire is for me to carefully listen to their concerns and offer reassurances, to take in their fears and be the warmth which disperses it. By doing so, these same peasants will become my most loyal supporters and spies in putting down the next budding revolt.¡±


    Coppelia blinked.


    ¡°Eh? You¡¯re going to do princess things?¡±


    ¡°Firstly, everything I do is a princess thing. Secondly, appealing to the masses is a natural talent even the lowest ranked princesses possess. That is why royal carriages are designed to tear through barns, to ensure we reach the farmers most in need of our healing smile. It is the first remedy when our foes seek to turn our citizens against us.¡±


    ¡°You mean your peasants aren¡¯t just unhappy because they¡¯re muddy and have to work all day?¡±


    ¡°There is no such thing as unhappy peasants. Only loyal subjects who have been cruelly led astray by the slander of our enemies.¡±


    ¡°Gosh. You must have a lot of enemies.¡±


    I nodded with the pride this demanded.


    ¡°Indeed, we do. There is much to envy about my kingdom. It¡¯s only natural they¡¯d seek to coerce my subjects into such folly as questioning their own joy. But they needn¡¯t fear. Against the whispers, I will offer the melody of my kindness. Against the shadows, I will offer the light of my smile ¡­ in short, I simply need to be my normal self!¡±


    Coppelia nodded and beamed.


    ¡°Uwaah~ you¡¯re going to punt so many peasants.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia!! I am not going to punt any peasants! That is ¡­ well, that is very counterintuitive to what I need to happen! I realise that, yes, there have been rare occasions with no witnesses where I might have resorted to acts deemed as somewhat untraditional ¡­ but that will not be the case now! I absolutely cannot punt my own farmers! I need them!¡±


    ¡°I can already see the smoke. And the fire. So much fire.¡±


    ¡°Why would there be fire?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s from all the burning furniture.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia!¡± I threw up my arms in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m serious! We cannot do anything that will result in furniture being burned, thrown or discarded! This is important! My kingdom is at stake!¡±


    Much to my dismay, my semi-loyal handmaiden merely giggled.


    And so I did what any princess with utterly no recorded history of destruction of property would do.


    I took in a deep breath, cleared my mind and duly erased every worry I had.


    ¡°... Come, Coppelia!¡± I said as I turned towards the door, blissful smile in hand. ¡°A darkness stirs in the hearts of my peasants! We must be the light which drives it out!¡±


    Immediately, she held up the assortment of green things in her arms.


    ¡°Okie~ but what about the moss stuff?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, have you decided which you want? We normally say which food is ours and then pretend we don¡¯t steal from each other constantly.¡±


    I considered the goblin cuisine on display.


    And then I nodded.


    Indeed, it was time to rescue my kingdom from the worst calamity which could ever befall it. The simmering flames of a peasant revolt.


    But first ¡­ I had to find a functioning cr¨ºpe stall.

 Chapter 347: Oasis Of Dreams

    Upon the road towards the Wessin Bridge, the forest stirred to a gentle whisper.


    All around me, the leaves danced beneath the warmth of the final weeks of spring.


    As the sunshine flickered amidst the blooming foliage, the sound of Apple¡¯s leisurely trots was joined only by the rustling of shrubs, the chirps of robins and the occasional scream in the distance as a hooligan was consumed by the deadly cockatrices which also lived in my forests.


    Normally, that is.


    Because right now ¡­ a moment of peace opted to visit me instead.


    Within the light drifting between the shifting canopy, I caught dandelions floating by like sparkling feathers in the air. The gentle aroma of wild meadows was overcome by hints of earthen scents. And the colours of honeysuckle and jasmine bloomed like snatches of summer¡¯s impatience.


    Ohohohoho!


    Indeed ¡­ it was utterly marvellous!


    Despite the attempts of every ruffian so inebriated they didn¡¯t keep their plans to darken my kingdom in the tavern corners where they belonged, the sun continued to seek my energising smile for nourishment.


    Why, it was so peaceful that not even a fruit slime could be seen bouncing away!


    ¡­ And that was possibly also just the slightest problem.


    I peered hopefully around me.


    Much to my confusion, I didn¡¯t see a single substitute mailbox for the important task of improving my [Spring Breeze].


    This was highly unusual. There were enough blackberries in the bushes that both Apple and Coppelia had agreed to a temporary truce as they only devoured my kingdom from their own respective side of the road.


    In fact¨C


    Far from competing with the fruit slimes, they didn¡¯t have to compete with anyone.


    Not a single hint of spotted fur, a wet nose or a bushy tail swept through the underbrush.


    There were no fawns lifting their heads before skipping away. No squirrels hurriedly climbing the oaks with acorns dribbling from their mouths. No hedgehogs trembling before rolling into a ball. And not a single badger subtly making its way back into the many illegal holes in the ground.


    There was nothing.


    Nothing at all.


    Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.


    ¡°... Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Mmh?~¡± My loyal handmaiden looked up from a shrub. She beamed and held out her palm filled with blackberries. ¡°You want some? They¡¯re tasty and not poisonous.¡±


    I leaned slightly away from the blackberries, conscious of what happened to the last person who consumed berries harvested by her hands. Even now, I sometimes closed my eyes and saw tubes of vomit exiting a helmet.


    ¡°N-No, I shall pass, thank you ¡­ although I¡¯m grateful you went straight to the important point.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re tasty?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But also that they¡¯re not poisonous. Out of curiosity, how do you know with your constitution if they¡¯re safe for princesses to eat?¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s easy! You just have to know what to look for. You see, when picking wild berries, it¡¯s important to carefully check to see if there¡¯s any dead humans nearby.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°... Sure you don¡¯t want any? They¡¯re better than what we buy from shopkeepers.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Thank you. It would be unbefitting of me to take what is available exclusively for my retainers and the garden critters of my kingdom. Speaking of which, I was wondering if you noticed that it seems a little ¡­ peaceful?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I noticed straight away. I¡¯m already checking around me every 5 seconds.¡±


    ¡°You are? For what?¡±


    ¡°The explosion. Don¡¯t worry, when everything catches fire, I¡¯ll be ready.¡±


    I was aghast.


    ¡°Coppelia! ¡­ Just because there¡¯s a moment of quiet doesn¡¯t mean it has to be immediately followed by something blowing up!¡±


    My loyal handmaiden simply tilted her head and blinked.


    I pursed my lips.


    Then ¡­ I also peeked around me.


    ¡°... Do you think it¡¯ll be man eating fire breathing death beetles again?¡±


    ¡°Nah, the ground¡¯s too beat up here. They don¡¯t like burrowing under roads. Even exploding carnivorous insects need to sleep.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ what do you think it could be then?¡±


    Coppelia hummed in thought, all the while tossing blackberries into her mouth.


    ¡°Well, maybe you won? You do look all mean whenever a badger pokes its head out. At some point, even nature needs to get the point right?¡±


    I shook my head at once.


    Those who sought to nibble on the undefended leaves of my orchard were mysteriously absent, yes ¡­ but as amazing as I was, this was one of the few battles I couldn¡¯t have won.


    After all, small fluffy animals were drawn to me like moths to a flame.


    No matter where I cast my gaze or how appalled my expression, I could be guaranteed a menagerie peering back at me.


    It was only natural. As a beautiful princess, I lived a life of hardship with as many downsides as zero. But every now and again, that number briefly rose to one as the various critters of my kingdom sought to invade my personal space.


    ¡°Do not underestimate the resilience of badgers,¡± I said, my warning stark. ¡°They can survive in all conditions and all seasons. More importantly, they can survive my scowl. They care as little for my displeasure as they do for the wholeness of my orchard.¡±


    Coppelia nodded.


    Then, she plucked a budding peony from a shrub and stuffed it in her mouth.


    ¡°Well, if they¡¯ve run away, it usually means something even scarier took their place. Small animals and weak monsters are pretty quick on the uptake when a new big guy comes along. Even if they can survive your scowl, I doubt they can survive a hungry manticore.¡±


    ¡°A hungry manticore would be a relief. They¡¯re famously protective and organised with their habitats.¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s a rotted ghoul blighting the land it shambles on?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very unlikely. If the Grand Duchess entered my kingdom, I would know.¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s a bewitchingly dressed dancer able to charm every animal in a forest while a magical floating ensemble plays in the background?¡±


    ¡°... Yes.¡± I nodded as I peered ahead. ¡°I suppose that makes for a very reasonable explanation.¡±


    Coppelia smiled as she raised a hand to her brows.


    All I saw was a colourful blur. Even so, I heard it before I saw it.


    Music.


    It was as boisterous as any which could be found in the corner of a tavern. A bright and optimistic melody which ruffled the leaves as well as any breeze. Except this tavern consisted of a forest. And all its inhabitants were now gathered as a mesmerised audience.


    It was an astonishing sight.


    A literal flock straight from a fable sat together, tails wagging as they enjoyed a rare spectacle.


    Deer, hedgehogs, rabbits and all the missing fruit slimes sat together, joined by birds of every rainbow shade perched upon branches, their chirps lost to the sound of music.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    A lyre harp, a pan flute and a tambourine worked in unison, plucked, played and drummed by invisible hands as they floated in the air, their silhouettes immersed in a violet glow.


    It was the same colour as the tiny tent pitched by the side of the road. A tent at risk of being physically swept away. The dangling leaves above it were more durable. So thin was its fabric, even the palest breeze was enough to cause its entrance flap to billow.


    The owner clearly didn¡¯t mind.


    Her smile was as colourful as the songbirds in the branches above her. And also as much as her attire.


    Painted in the shades of a twilight sky and dotted with sequin gemstones, it matched well with her hair. Flowing black as midnight, two elegantly braided strands fell upon bare shoulders as golden as the sands from which she hailed.


    Here was a maiden who would have the inhabitants of my taverns tossing coins at her for a moment of her company.


    They would need to offer more.


    After all, her profession wasn¡¯t one known for accepting insults.


    A dancer from the Kingdom of Dunes.


    A vaunted profession in the land where tales were first said to be born.


    Whereas everywhere else, dancers were little more than jesters and drunkards, in the Kingdom of Dunes, they were amongst the most respected and oldest of careers, requiring arduous training as long as my own in being a princess. Often since they were treated as one.


    Courtesans. Diplomats. Spies.


    And very occasionally ¡­ performers in my forests.


    Barefooted but with a curtain skirt, all her stomach was exposed as she danced on the spot, a pair of large circlets balancing upon her arms feeding ribbons of fabric as long as the tails of my dresses. As she moved, her long hair flowed behind her like black ink shifting upon a palette.


    And her audience were my garden critters.


    Naturally, I was shocked.


    Why, this woman ¡­ she had mesmerised an entire section of my forest!


    I ¡­ I could abuse this!


    Such a unique power! If I could use it to keep the unwanted visitors of my orchard in place, then I wouldn¡¯t even need my delicate gardening techniques! I could simply command the servants to hoist them to the other side of the kingdom!


    However, just as I wondered why such a technique wasn¡¯t already known to me¨C


    Hrrpmh.


    I realised it had a fatal weakness.


    It was susceptible to horses.


    Apple snorted. And then the spell was broken.


    As though a brave and loyal tax inspector had entered a tavern, the music ceased, the instruments collapsed ¡­ and every patron darted or bounced away in every direction.


    Within moments, all the colours which had gathered were no more.


    Instead, they were now seen only in the attire of the dancer, her little tent, and also her smile as she offered not a hint of acrimony at being rescued from her audience of garden terrors.


    For although her footwork had ceased, her performance had not.


    ¡°Greetings, customers!¡± said the dancer with all the professional enthusiasm instilled in her. Her arms elegantly spread out as she offered a deep bow. ¡°Welcome to the Oasis of Dreams.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow ¡­ all the more so as I took in the little sign pitched beside the tent.


    Oasis of Dreams.


    One time entry.


    That was it.


    No information. No price. No warnings.


    My, wasn¡¯t this quaint?


    A dollop of mystery straight from the onset. And yet her skills couldn¡¯t be denied.


    The finest dancers were said to be able to charm kings and queens. She wasn¡¯t quite there yet. But she was better than the energetic bards who innkeepers hired to ensure the rats scuttling in the ceilings weren¡¯t alone in their efforts to promote insomnia.


    And here she was by the side of a dirt road, entertaining an audience unlikely to pay her.


    I tugged on Apple¡¯s reins to bring him a little closer.


    ¡°Salutations,¡± I said with a polite smile. ¡°My apologies for my horse disturbing you in your performance. It was quite lively. The hedgehogs seemed particularly impressed.¡±


    The dancer bowed again.


    ¡°Thank you, dear customer! Praise from a stranger is a gift from unseen bonds. It¡¯s my calling to offer my performances to all who may look upon them. This doesn¡¯t exclude the animals of the forests, whose love of song and dance is inscribed into their every movement.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. I saw it even as they sat stock still. May I ask how you can charm them to such an extent?¡±


    The dancer offered a tinkling, playful laugh.


    Already I could hear a handful of the creatures peeking back from the edges of the underbrush.


    ¡°You could. But I¡¯m afraid I wouldn¡¯t be in a position to answer. The secrets of my craft are older and more guarded than any spell woven by mages ¡­ and also, I should add, quite a bit more precarious.¡±


    I nodded, neither surprised nor disappointed.


    After all, as certain as I was that I could learn the secrets of sand dancing in a busy afternoon, my ballet teacher would doubtless be less than impressed. That¡¯d be awful. She was one of the few tutors who didn¡¯t deem it necessary to impart knowledge via books to my head.


    If possible, I wished to keep it that way.


    ¡°Oh? Then I wonder if what I¡¯ve heard is true. It¡¯s said that those who have learned to dance in the oldest halls keep their secrets so well that the finest are not even known, for they keep their art to none but themselves.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard well. And while I cannot confirm or deny this, I hold no regrets to say that my name is very much well known. I am Amissa the Benevolent. Have you heard of me, dear customer?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. I know few dancers and even fewer who would ply their trade in a forest. It is a strange place to practice your craft. Are you perhaps stopping on the way to important business?¡±


    The dancer¡¯s smile blossomed as she gestured all around her. The circlets swung effortlessly upon her arms, followed by a trail of ribbons.


    ¡°My business is right here, amidst the leaves, the fading spring and the watching deer.¡±


    I leaned away slightly so I wouldn¡¯t be hit.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Then you do yourself a disservice. Although the deer are doubtless appreciative of the distraction, they also lack the hands needed to applaud. You¡¯re unlikely to earn the accolades you deserve by the side of a muddy road in a forest.¡±


    ¡°True, which is why I also have my tent.¡±


    She duly pointed at it.


    A tent so small that it could do nothing but hold whatever wardrobe of instruments and clothing she possessed.


    ¡°I see ¡­ and what is the purpose of this tent ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s as the sign says, of course! This is the Oasis of Dreams. And for travellers who wander past, whose hearts are heavy and bodies are weary, I extend an invitation. Inside my tent, they may offer what applause they wish in return for the paradise I provide.¡±


    ¡°How very mysterious. And what is the cost of this vague service ¡­ again, by the side of the road?¡±


    ¡°Free.¡±


    ¡°Free?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t charge money. The joy I offer is a gift, as are the smiles of my customers.¡±


    Hmmmmmmmm.


    A beautiful dancer loitering on the side of a muddy road like a common highwayman. Check.


    A mysteriously pitched tent scarcely large enough for one. Check.


    A vague service with absolutely no cost involved other than a somewhat telling warning that entry was a one time only affair. Check.


    I gave it a moment¡¯s thought ¡­ and then I nodded.


    So!


    Very!


    Suspicious!


    ¡°Uwaah~¡± Coppelia nodded, highly impressed. ¡°I wonder how many corpses are in the tent.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± The dancer gently lifted a hand to her ear, the lie already playing on her lips. ¡°My apologies, dear customer, but I didn''t quite catch those words.¡±


    ¡°My loyal and very similarly minded handmaiden expressed her curiosity regarding what paradise may be found within your tent. It appears somewhat stuffy in there.¡±


    ¡°Do you think so? Perhaps from the outside. And yet within, there¡¯s more than enough space for one to find all the peace of mind that is ever needed.¡±


    Interesting.


    I wondered which blunt instrument she favoured for inducing peace of mind in her customers.


    ¡°... Very well!¡± I said, smiling with a clap of my hands. ¡°I admit my curiosity. Especially in regards to ensuring all regulations are being followed. If you¡¯re not selling goods or services, then you¡¯ve no need for any trading permits¨Cbut there are laws regarding public safety and common vagrancy I still need to take into account.¡±


    The dancer merely gave a bat of her eyelashes.


    ¡°Curiosity is the boon of life. It is what drives all hearts towards the next endeavour. Would you like to enter the Oasis of Dreams?¡±


    ¡°No, but duty compels me to investigate. What will I find inside?¡±


    ¡°As I said, paradise.¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    A moment later, I dismounted from Apple and gave him the finger point to tell him that if the highly suspicious woman tried to murder me, he should immediately proceed to eat her hair.


    He snorted.


    I nodded. It was enough for me.


    Thus, happy that all instructions were clear, I promptly made my way to the tent.


    The woman didn¡¯t move from her spot as she happily gestured for me to enter. I obliged by tugging at the very edge of the entry flap ¡­ and then peeking inside.


    Much to my surprise, the dancer certainly wasn¡¯t lying.


    It was significantly larger on the inside.


    Even more to my surprise, there wasn¡¯t a single corpse or blood stain.


    Instead, it was a veritable pavilion filled with more carpets and cushions than could be found in a typical basement in the Summer Kingdoms. A rectangular table sat in the centre, adorned with silver tableware, jugs and cutlery. Over it was a brightly lit chandelier, its candles unneeded against the light which seemed to pour through the fabric of the tent.


    An unexpected sight. But nothing compared to what I saw as I stepped away.


    Because much to my chagrin ¡­ I found that the tent from the outside was now as big as it was on the inside.


    A white pavilion greeted my eyes, its fabric so bright it reflected the sun.


    The same sun which beat down upon me with all the force of a kitchen halfway through their daily quota of baking everything I wanted in my mind despite my preferences changing daily.


    It was hot.


    So very hot.


    Yes ¡­ just like the sand beneath my boots.


    I turned around.


    Gone was the muddy road, the oak trees and the scent of wild grass.


    Instead, only a handful of palm trees existed to shield me from the unremitting heat ¡­ as well as an enormous pool of glimmering water as blue as purest sapphire, ringed by a smattering of reeds.


    An oasis.


    In the desert.


    With the only breeze coming with a sound like the draft from a chimney.


    All of a sudden, the dancer appeared behind me.


    The smile she wore was as comely as the one she displayed just a moment ago under the leaves of my forest. Her attire, exactly as it was, now matched the brightness of the sky.


    In fact¨C


    There was just one thing different about her.


    Her dancer¡¯s legs were no more.


    Instead, a lightly swirling gust of visible air swept like smoke beneath her hips.


    ¡°Welcome, dear customer!¡± said the djinn, smiling with unabashed joy. ¡°To the Oasis of Dreams!¡±

 Chapter 348: Customer Service

    Djinn.


    There were as many peddlers of wishes as there were barkeepers in my kingdom.


    For just a handful of crowns and the bottom of a cup, even the muddiest peasant could see their most treasured dream of personally disappointing me as a servant come to fruition.


    But those who weren¡¯t barkeepers?


    Purveyors of falsehoods.


    Con artists at the level of a troll merchant whose claims that a bottomless bag was worth far more than 500 gold crowns and that I would never once secretly regret purchasing it while rolling back-and-forth in the middle of the night as I thought about which two books I could have bought instead.


    After all, the magic of wishes was not for any mage to cast, nor any vendor to sell.


    That was exclusively the realm of swindlers and tricksters.


    The djinn ¡­ were absolutely no exception.


    Taking the form of beautiful maidens and handsome gentlemen, these spirits were as vain as they were unhelpful.


    They had their own narrative, of course. A carefully curated tale of generosity woven by the charm of their smiles and the allure of their promises. A wish here. A wish there. A dragon¡¯s hoard for a peasant or an empire for a lord, each tossed as freely as carrots beneath the dining table.


    But for all the folklore they hoped to spew, their reputation was stronger.


    Childish at best and malevolent at worst, the djinn were little more than larger nymphs¨Cincluding the amount of mischief they could cause.


    Despite their ability to make the wishes of mortals come true, they were also famously blas¨¦ about the finer points. Because more often than not, that dragon¡¯s hoard also came with the dragon. And that kingdom came with poison in every cup.


    Even so ¡­ for all their unpredictability, their powers couldn¡¯t be denied.


    As spirits who commanded magic more ancient and enigmatic than any archmage could command, they could shatter a kingdom as easily as the expectations of those who failed to heed the warnings. For beneath the surface was pride as temperamental as their whims.


    Unfortunately for the djinn, I was a princess. And this meant my pride had priority.


    ¡°Hm hmm hm hmm hm ?.¡±


    Thus, I hummed to myself while tossing away everything I saw.


    Pillows, carpets, goblets and plates.


    Everything but the sand beneath my boots was launched behind my shoulder as I went through the djinn¡¯s abode like a hedgehog through my rhododendrons.


    Firstly because they were an eyesore. Secondly because they were in the way.


    Again and again, pieces of loose upholstery or tableware went flying behind me ¡­ each sadly missing the observing maiden who was standing, or rather, hovering by the entrance.


    ¡°... Dear customer, may I ask what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± I turned around, wiping a non-existent bead of sweat from my brows. ¡°Ah, my apologies for the commotion. I¡¯m searching for something.¡±


    ¡°Goodness, I had no idea! I thought you were simply ransacking my home. And what is it you¡¯re searching for? I might be able to help. Customer service is my forte.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Very well. then. I¡¯m searching for a magic lamp.¡±


    ¡°A magic lamp? That¡¯s quite a rare thing. May I ask what you need it for?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. I need a magic lamp so I can break it and return to my kingdom where the sun doesn¡¯t threaten to incinerate my forehead. Now, where might this source of your magical power be?¡±


    The djinn giggled.


    A sound so melodic that songbirds would take note, if only to learn how to disturb my naps more.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not sure. My magic lamp no longer has any ties to me. I was released so many years ago that the memories have faded into the sand. I¡¯m now a wandering spirit, free to travel where I desire, to aid those whose souls are lost in plight ¡­ and I see from your urgency that you¡¯ve arrived at the Oasis of Dreams not a second too late.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, that much is obvious. I recently saw a goblin marketplace more organised than this. Upending this tent has only made it better.¡±


    The djinn¡¯s beautiful smile creaked.


    A moment later, she rose a few inches in the air. The swirling mist beneath her intensified, and a warm light even brighter than the sun gathered around her silhouette.


    ¡°Dear customer, I see you¡¯ve many questions,¡± she said in a deliberately soft voice. ¡°And although your reaction of instantly desecrating my carefully organised pavilion is different to every single visitor I¡¯ve had until now, I offer my reassurances. You have nothing to fear from me. For I am here only to help shed the weight from your soul.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°... My, why didn¡¯t you say so! I apologise, I react adversely to being kidnapped by loitering djinn masquerading as strange women by the side of the muddy road.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable. Being kidnapped by strange women sounds like a frightening ordeal. Fortunately, I am Amissa the Benevolent. And my only oddity lies in my kindness.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. Then you can kindly send me back to where I was.¡±


    The djinn smiled. All the while not sending me back.


    ¡°... Hm. How unusual. Perhaps you¡¯ve been disoriented by the blinding sun? Normally this is where I explain who I am and what the Oasis of Dreams is. It¡¯s very rare for anyone to show so little curiosity in a djinn or the stress reducing paradise around them.¡±


    ¡°My curiosity lies in how my handmaiden steals the pillow without the dent in it while my face is still buried within it. Why I¡¯d be kidnapped is less of a mystery. Now, will you be sending me back?¡±


    ¡°Certainly! ¡­ But are you sure you don¡¯t wish to tour the wonderful healing oasis first?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯ve worked tirelessly on arranging it. It wasn¡¯t easy. Even as a djinn, encouraging life to bloom in the most arid of locations is a stunning feat.¡±


    ¡°You should continue tending to your work, then. Perhaps until it becomes a verdant forest. For example, the one I¡¯m waiting to return to.¡±


    I tapped my foot.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    And then I waited. A concept utterly foreign to me.


    My tapping foot was the only thing stronger than the servant¡¯s bell. The fact that I wasn¡¯t already looking around for ambushing squirrels was a disgrace.


    The djinn said that customer service was her forte. Yet were this the Royal Villa, every steward would be desperately rushing to do every task while wondering which specific one I wanted done.


    Eventually, however, her shoulders fell.


    ¡°Very well ¡­ it¡¯s clear I was mistaken in bringing you here. In that case, I apologise wholeheartedly for any distress caused. I am unused to the traditions of humans. As a benevolent spirit, I only sought to offer a moment of respite from the troubles which plague your heart.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.


    ¡°... Truly?¡±


    ¡°Truly.¡±


    ¡°No ulterior motives? No hidden schemes? You just ¡­ want to show off an oasis?¡±


    The djinn smiled amicably.


    Then, she leaned to her side ¡­ and swept away the entrance to the pavilion.


    ¡°Not just an oasis,¡± she said brightly. ¡°But a healing oasis. Please gaze upon the glittering waters. Do you feel the wicked desires of your heart fading away? Good. Note also the swaying palm trees and allow the corruption within you to bleed away to the calming sight. Because once you¡¯re done, you can also immerse your eyes upon the carefully combed golden dunes in the distance. Feel your mushy and frail body relax as you peer upon the unbroken sand.¡±


    I winced, not seeing a thing amidst the sunlight melting my eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s very blinding.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful! I¡¯m so happy the experience had such a positive effect on you. And now that you¡¯re healed, you may leave. I sense another customer in need of my oasis coming down the road.¡±


    I blinked, as much to repair my eyes as study the djinn¡¯s highly unusual demeanour.


    ¡°I see ¡­ and where is the door?¡±


    ¡°There is no door. You need to wish your way out.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You need to wish in order to exit. Not just in your head, but also out loud.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to make a wish?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you not simply send me back the way I came?¡±


    ¡°I could. But the logistics of sending you back isn¡¯t quite as straightforward as bringing you here. Because of reasons. As a result, the complex teleportation spell required is far less reliable than even the most reckless would dare. However, if you were to make a wish, then the magic imbued upon me would guarantee your safe and prompt return.¡±


    The djinn offered a pleasant smile. I smiled in response.


    And then¨C


    I jabbed my finger towards her.


    ¡°What sort of scam is this ¡­ ?!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a scam.¡±


    ¡°This is a scam! I don¡¯t know what it is, but I can smell it like a rotting trout!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a rotting trout. It¡¯s the Oasis of Dreams.¡±


    ¡°Why do I need to make a wish to exit a dream?! What is your motive?! Even without kidnapping me, there is clearly something shady about this!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing shady at all. This is a legitimate healing enterprise. Look.¡±


    The djinn pointed to the side.


    There, stuck upon the fabric wall was a scroll of parchment.


    I leaned in to read it.


    Amissa the Benevolent.


    Proprietor of THE OASIS OF DREAMS.


    The Magic Lamp Society.


    #1 ranked djinn by wishes successfully delivered.


    The floating maiden smiled proudly.


    ¡°You see? ¡­ Not only is this perfectly legitimate, but I am indeed the very highest rank djinn there is. It is, quite literally, impossible to be as trustworthy as me. As of this moment, I¡¯ve successfully granted more wishes than any other. And it would be my joy to grant yours as well. Now, merely wish to return home like everyone else, and I shall see it done.¡±


    I raised my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°Are you kidnapping random people to a puddle in the desert to ¡­ to extort wishes?!¡±


    A feigned gasp met me.


    ¡°That is a terrible accusation.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s true!¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest. To suggest this is a kidnapping is highly inappropriate. After all, I didn¡¯t lay a hand on you. Your own morbid curiosity caused you to touch the tent imbued with a teleportation spell clearly noted on a sign hidden behind a tree. If anything, I¡¯m the opposite of a kidnapper.¡±


    ¡°By what logic?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m offering a swift return after a free healing session in a desert paradise. A paradise which is also inhabited by nocturnal sandcrawlers and so it is therefore advised that you leave before nightfall. There are also coconuts. That isn¡¯t kidnapping. It is service.¡±


    My mouth widened in outrage.


    ¡°H-How dare you! If you wish to kidnap me, then it must be both brazen and shameless! To feign ignorance is an insult! ¡­ Do you have any idea how many people try to steal me away?!¡±


    ¡°... No, why? Are you important?¡±


    ¡°Quite so! I¡¯m the most important person you will ever pretend to kidnap!¡±


    The djinn tilted her head slightly, her smile unfading.


    Then¨C


    Poof.


    An ornate spyglass appeared in her hand, no different to the ones used by ships¡¯ captains. She placed it to her eye and squinted.


    It vanished a moment later to a small puff of smoke.


    ¡°Oh. Another princess.¡±


    ¡°Another?! ¡­ How many princesses have travelled that muddy forest road?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not for me to say. Suffice to say, every other princess I¡¯ve met has wished for a safe exit. And all with far less fuss. Now, would you like to make your wish so I can meet my daily quota?¡±


    ¡°I most certainly do not! ¡­ Why, this is absurd! Do djinn not normally tire of granting wishes?!¡±


    ¡°We tire of granting ludicrous wishes. But it doesn¡¯t mean we don¡¯t do it. On the contrary, a djinn¡¯s social worth is entirely tied to how successful they are at making wishes come true. And that means someone who proactively steers the wishes of their customers as opposed to merely inviting whatever unfeasible dream the average human possesses is far more successful.¡±


    I was appalled.


    ¡°This ¡­ This is outrageous! How dare you abduct me for mere social clout! ¡­ At least demand a bag of gold if you¡¯re going to be a roadside brigand!¡±


    The djinn wrinkled her nose.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a roadside brigand. I¡¯m Amissa the Benevolent, and I provide bodily healing to my customers courtesy of a calming trip through an oasis paradise.¡±


    ¡°And does the bodily healing come just before the nocturnal sandcrawlers decide they are peckish?!¡±


    ¡°Occasionally, yes. But once my customers are satisfied, and they always are, they may simply wish themselves home using a variety of predetermined phrases I offer on a menu. However, if for whatever reason you choose not to take up my offer, I¡¯m certainly willing to consider alternative forms of donations. Including, yes, bags of gold ¡­ or perhaps that sword by your waist?¡±


    The djinn made little effort to hide her curiosity as she eyed Starlight Grace¡¯s ruby pommel.


    I regained her attention with a snap of my fingers.


    ¡°No,¡± I said simply. ¡°I know not every law you have, but I know there¡¯s certain to be one against forcing wishes from customers. This is a violation of whatever rules nobody has ever read.¡±


    ¡°Dear customer, forcing you to stay would be a violation of the rules. But by allowing you to leave with but a specific word, you lose nothing. Yes, I maintain my #1 standing amongst my social circle and a title unique to me. But it¡¯s hardly at your expense. This oasis is a lovely experience. I am not evil.¡±


    I leaned towards the djinn. She leaned away.


    ¡°Oh? Then what happens should I wish to return and also for you to compensate me for this needless use of my time?¡±


    The beautiful smile didn¡¯t fade. On the contrary, it only widened.


    ¡°Compensation would be open to interpretation,¡± said the djinn simply. ¡°A warning I give to everybody. But if you feel dissatisfied with my service, then you may take a cushion as a courtesy.¡±


    ¡°I think not. This insult of an extortion is quite enough without your poor quality fabric lining to worsen it. I refuse to offer my begging pleas. You, on the other hand, are free to make yours.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You shall return me to exactly where I was before. And you will do so by revealing the exit which doubtless exists. A djinn¡¯s magic is not foolproof. You did not bring me here with a snap of your fingers. You will not return me in such a way, either.¡±


    The djinn tilted her head slightly. She toyed with the ends of her dark hair.


    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s quite the assumption. But what if such a convenient exit doesn¡¯t exist?¡±


    I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering the smile even more fabricated than hers.


    Then, I leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ why, I suppose I¡¯ll simply have to turn your Oasis of Dreams into an Oasis of Nightmares¨Cuntil you are forced to wish upon a princess for it to end.¡±

 Chapter 349: Soothing Sands

    They say a smile was worth a thousand words.


    They were wrong.


    My smile was worth more words than any tome could contain. And while the greatest scholars might one day hope to discern a fraction of the many nuances which went behind my lips curling upwards, none could truly understand the vast range of hidden meanings I communicated even while napping ¡­ usually resulting in a heap of rainbow macarons I needed to climb out from.


    This time, however, there was little threat of that.


    Because towards a wandering djinn with far too much time on her hands, the smile I offered left nothing for the imagination.


    After all, it wasn¡¯t macarons I wanted. At least not from her. It was a grovelling apology, untold amounts of compensation and whatever else I decided on the spot.


    Thus, I smiled and waited.


    Nothing else was required. For no matter how powerful a djinn¡¯s magic was, little compared to the strength of a princess¡¯s ire. That was a force no wish could repel.


    And so ¡­ the maiden before me could only blink.


    Her own smile faded. Her expression froze.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Pfffffft.¡±


    She burst out into laughter.


    ¡°Ahhahhahaha ¡­ ahahahahahahahaha ¡­ ahahahahha!!¡±


    Clutching her stomach, she keeled over, trying and failing to hold back the amusement.


    Where there was the faintest sheen of feigned politeness before, there was now only rabid chortling. The shameless guffaw of a full tavern rolled into one endless cackle. Loud, crass and bullish.


    I was horrified.


    Why, such crude, slovenly laughter at my expense!


    ¡­ It was exactly the same way as how Coppelia did it! And if she wasn¡¯t allowed to laugh at me in such a crude manner, then neither was anyone else!


    ¡°H-How dare you! This is no laughing matter! ¡­ And even if it was, certainly not like that!¡±


    The djinn wasn¡¯t listening.


    Instead, she merely spluttered and coughed. The previously well-crafted face became creased with amusement as she expelled laughter with all the casual delight of a loitering vagabond who knew every emotion except remorse.


    Fortunately, she could still learn.


    ¡°... Ahaha ¡­ hah ¡­ ugh, pain.¡°


    The djinn grimaced as she straightened herself. Eventually.


    ¡°Actual pain, too. It¡¯s been so long since I last felt such aching. And never this much from mere words. My apologies, dear customer, I mistook you for a simple girl wandering in the woods.¡±


    ¡°And I mistook you for a forest vagrant. I see you¡¯re only a dancing leech instead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a dancer, yes, but not a leech. The Oasis of Dreams is a lovely experience. Just clearly not for you.¡± The djinn relaxed her smile, then flicked her wrist. ¡°Yes, fine, I¡¯m abusing a loophole to maintain my #1 ranking. But you of all people should understand what social status means.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. But unlike yourself, I¡¯ve no need to hide in the middle of the desert to maintain my standing. I extort my peasants openly. It¡¯s called taxes. And for kidnapping a princess, you¡¯re now due to pay a contribution directly into my bottomless bag.¡±


    I received only a snort in response.


    Somehow, I preferred the rabid laughter.


    ¡°To threaten my Oasis of Dreams is amusing, dear customer. But to make demands of me is just brash.¡±


    ¡°Brash is laughter before I¡¯ve explicitly called for it. But since few retain their wits before me, I can ignore the hysterics¨Cjust not a kidnapping with such a poorly tailored experience. To steal away a princess is the lifelong ambition of every ruffian better than yourself. To do it by chance is an insult.¡±


    The djinn threatened a chortle.


    Instead, she willed her lips together ¡­ just before adopting the same look my history tutor wore when I explained that lessons were cancelled because robbers had for some reason stolen every chalkboard in the Royal Villa.


    ¡°I shall take your words to heart,¡± she said, her tone between bored and bemused. ¡°Sadly, complaints handling isn¡¯t my forte. I must therefore advise you that expending a wish and then going about your day is far easier than arguing for the sake of pointless pride.¡±


    ¡°Please. Pride is the most important thing anyone can have. Without it, everyone might start loitering in a forest like a common roadside hoodlum. I can think of nothing worse.¡±


    I held up my palm as the djinn opened her mouth, her face daring to wear a mild hint of indignation.


    ¡°¨CAfter all, there will eventually be someone who refuses to be coerced. So here is my advice. I suggest you point the way to the exit as well as a bag of suitable compensation. You might be a djinn. But I am a princess. And I grant my own wishes.¡±


    I waited for a fingertip to point the way.


    It never arrived. Only a raised eyebrow and a final snort of the day.


    ¡°I am a djinn,¡± she declared, floating a little higher for the sake of it. ¡°I can become ethereal, invisible, air. Only the most powerful of magic may move me. And I do not invite mages to be my customers. What threats will you make other than to my stomach, wandering princess, before you inevitably wish yourself away once the sandcrawlers wake for a midday snack?¡±


    It was a question which expected no reply.


    After all, djinn were as shameless as they were elusive. The utter lack of concern on her face spoke as loudly as the mist swirling beneath her hips, ready to take her away at a moment¡¯s notice.


    But I wasn¡¯t making a threat. I was making a promise.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Thus¨C


    I peered around, identified the greatest pile of cushions ¡­ and then duly sat myself down.


    ¡°Very well, then. I shall stay.¡±


    The djinn stared at me as I brushed the sand from the side of my boots.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°My congratulations. You shall now play host to a princess.¡±


    ¡°You desire to experience the Oasis of Dreams, then ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I do. I¡¯ve been needlessly dismissive. The sparkle of the pond is truly mesmerising. I shall therefore experience it today, tomorrow and for all the days thereafter. This will now be my permanent residence. Thank you for inviting me to live in your abode.¡±


    The djinn¡¯s mouth suddenly widened.


    ¡°I am not inviting you to live here ¡­ and neither are the sandcrawlers. I mentioned them, yes? Several times?¡±


    ¡°You did, yes. And I¡¯m certain they¡¯ll make fine pets.¡±


    ¡°Sandcrawlers are not pets. They¡¯re massive, burrowing monstrosities whose appetites cannot be quenched even by consuming the very ground. They¡¯re voracious and utterly without mercy.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. I look forward to taming them. Given their description, I expect they¡¯ll do a wonderful job in ensuring that any unwanted guests remain at arm¡¯s length.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Like customers who overstay. Which they will do since they¡¯re very hungry.¡±


    ¡°Well, then why not ring a bell and summon them immediately?¡±


    A blink met my suggestion.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°To leave them hungry is needlessly cruel. I see your table is as sparse as your manners, but we can at least offer them some coconuts. By all means, please invite the sandcrawlers. I¡¯m certain you¡¯re on good enough terms with them by now, given that they clearly leave your tent alone.¡±


    I waited for the djinn to whistle, clap her hands or tap her heels.


    She didn¡¯t. And so I feigned a gasp, fluttering my eyelashes for effect.


    ¡°Ah, what¡¯s this? Could it possibly be that despite kidnapping innocents like a common hoodlum, you don¡¯t actually intend for your victims to die? Perhaps there¡¯s a rule or two about that? Or maybe the blood stains would simply be an awful distraction for when the next princess comes along to judge this sandy wasteland you call a paradise?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a wasteland,¡± said the djinn at once. ¡°It¡¯s practically a hammock. One in great demand. And so every customer is only allowed to stay for their allotted time slot.¡±


    ¡°My, I had no idea that actually indulging in your pond would be an inconvenience. So rejoice¨CI¡¯m going to stay here. Forever. And each time a peasant comes along, I¡¯ll ensure that every wish you extort will also include a scathing review until you¡¯re doomed to irrelevance amongst your social circle.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. You cannot possibly be threatening to stay forever just to spite me.¡±


    I offered a warm smile in response.


    The djinn stared, her eyes narrowing as she leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°... My gods,¡± she whispered after a moment. ¡°You actually are.¡±


    A look of utter disbelief met me.


    I hardly saw why.


    After all¨Cto be a paragon of truth was to be a princess.


    Ohhohohoohoho!


    Indeed, here it was!


    My most powerful, ultimate ability!


    ¡­ [Princess Obstinacy]!


    ¡°I can spend endless days within the comfort of my bedroom,¡± I proudly declared. ¡°And while a tent in the middle of nowhere hardly compares, the fact remains that I will not be daunted and never extorted. So rest assured¨Cwhile the world ebbs and flows and your rivals overtake your standing, I will be right here, enjoying every moment until you break. So let us see who moves first. I am patient. Are you?¡±


    The djinn looked indignant.


    The wind swirling beneath her heightened. And for a moment, it almost looked like she was going to accept my heartfelt challenge.


    ¡°Ugh. Humans.¡±


    Instead ¡­ she simply rolled her eyes.


    ¡°I offer a healing salve for your, frankly, awful existences. And all I receive in return is either suspicion or outright hostility. Well, be glad that I truly am a benevolent djinn and not one of my more carnivorous cousins. So fine. Have it your way. I¡¯ve no desire to be inefficient. Keep your wish and enjoy whatever calamity comes about from having it. It is of no concern to me.¡±


    Poof.


    All of a sudden, a glowing, magical doorway with a mirror-like surface appeared beside my stack of cushions.


    The sight of a beautiful green forest comforted my eyes at once. And also Apple¡¯s nose ¡­ followed by his jaws as he proceeded to try and eat my exit.


    He was shooed away a moment later by Coppelia, who showing all the grace of a handmaiden, stuck her face against the other side of the doorway. Her cheek squished against an invisible window, her large turquoise eyes blinking with curiosity as she tapped away with a fingertip.


    Why she would stick her face in first and only poke afterwards, I wasn¡¯t certain.


    Still, I nodded.


    Home awaited.


    Hence¨CI rose from my stack of cushions, then offered a grateful smile along with my response.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The djinn stared at me.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not leaving? The exit is right here. Look. I¡¯m pointing at it.¡±


    I held out my palm.


    ¡°Compensation,¡± I duly said.


    A look of utter horror met me.


    That was a good start. But she could do more.


    ¡°You cannot be serious.¡±


    ¡°Ohohohohoho.¡± I raised my other hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. ¡°Why, I¡¯m always serious. Especially when it comes to paying me for my time.¡±


    ¡°What compensation could you possibly want?¡± said the djinn, looking unreasonably aghast. ¡°I have no money!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean no money? You¡¯re a djinn. People plead for wealth all the time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we can¡¯t just conjure gold crowns. Technically, all we do is summon it from elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Then summon it from Granholtz. I¡¯ll even be specific. The safe nearest the bedroom at the top of the White Citadel. It¡¯s possible a woman is sleeping atop it. If so, you can summon her as well. But not here. Somewhere further out in the desert will do.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that. My powers only transcend those of mortal magic when empowered by a wish.¡±


    Ugh. These djinn.


    They were floating nobility. They promised the world, but when it came to their taxes, they suddenly had nothing.


    ¡°Fine. You may offer me what you have on hand. Or rather, your arm. I see you¡¯ve some gold bracelets on you.¡±


    ¡°I cannot give you these!¡± said the djinn, her mouth widening with a huff. ¡°This is part of my dancing attire! And it¡¯s worth more than you could possibly imagine!¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°My, is that so? ¡­ Then I¡¯ll take your bracelets plus everything else you have. I see several rings of middling quality, a necklace of tourmaline beads and a pair of jade ear hoops. They¡¯ll do for a start. Otherwise, I can also remain here and allow you to enjoy my smile until the end of time.¡±


    The djinn wrinkled her nose in a way which could make goblins gasp.


    For a moment, she did nothing but thoroughly compromise her beautiful fa?ade. After all, she knew that my forever presence and all the sweets she¡¯d need to feed me was a joy that a djinn whose roadside mischief hardly deserved.


    Then, she slipped off her various pieces of jewellery with nothing more than a roll of her eyes.


    She lightly flung them towards me. All fell slightly short.


    ¡°You have little idea how threatening that is,¡± she said, already flicking her wrist at me. ¡°Now go, before you ruin my next appointment. Be glad that I¡¯ll only treat this as a business expense.¡±


    I offered a curtsey while scooping up the taxes into my bottomless pouch.


    ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re correct. This has been a healing experience.¡±


    The djinn paused for a moment. A puff of air left her nostrils.


    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome,¡± she said, arms crossing as she turned away, one part stoic professionalism and one part indignant. ¡°And remember¨CAmissa the Benevolent. Be certain to leave a good review.¡±


    She waited, adamantly looking anywhere but me.


    At least until I still wasn¡¯t leaving.


    ¡°... Why aren¡¯t you gone?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not done yet.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not done yet? What more do you want? Sand?¡±


    I pointed outside while wearing the smile she¡¯d be missing.


    ¡°Please give me some coconuts.¡±

 Chapter 350: Fanning The Flames

    Apple¡¯s hooves submerged themselves in the mud.


    Yes, mud.


    Not just the crumbly dirt which caked the hems of every dress woven outside the Royal Villa. But mud so wet a sculptor could shape it to resemble my horrified expression. This was already worthy of a classical faint. And yet what truly threatened to topple me into the waiting arms of my loyal handmaiden as she skipped in the branches far above was something else.


    Hhhffffft.


    Apple snorting ¡­ in joy.


    I was filled with equal dismay.


    After all, for a princess¡¯s horse to act delighted while trudging up the remains of a road maintained exclusively by sludge was highly against form!


    ¡°Apple!¡± I said, utterly aggrieved. ¡°This is not the correct reaction to muddying your hooves! You must turn your head away, whinny in distaste and then refuse to carry me a step further!¡±


    I waited for Apple to put up a fuss.


    Instead, he simply plodded along, the mud squishing beneath his hooves.


    This ¡­ This was terrible!


    All the hard work I¡¯d done in allowing my regal aura to rub off on him was now being smothered by memories of a past life involving drunkards, wheelbarrows and carts!


    There was a time for saving my kingdom and a time for standards ¡­ and that was both simultaneously! After all, what would remain if its princesses began wading through mud? If Apple truly wished to see my realm rescued from the ire of the watching peasantry, he¡¯d refuse to bear me another step!


    A giggle of amusement came from overhead.


    Coppelia, who knew to correctly abandon me whenever our soles were imperilled, smiled as she hopped from one branch to the next.


    ¡°Your roads sure are beat up, huh?¡± she said, chittered at by the squirrels who puffed up their tails before fleeing. ¡°You know, I think it¡¯s getting worse.¡±


    ¡°The roads?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~! When I first came here, your roads were just bumpy and uneven. Now they¡¯re basically meeting spots for giant mudcrabs.¡±


    I held back a groan.


    As my loyal handmaiden, her duty was to sprout the official line ¡­ and yet as a perfectly hidden giant mudcrab scuttled away in terror of Apple¡¯s coming, it was all I could do to bravely ignore the many omens which decided to go my way.


    ¡°O-Ohohoho ¡­ why, did I complain about the mud? By that, I ¡­ I simply meant that Apple should take extra heed of the soft earth which gives rise to so many blooming flowers!¡±


    ¡°Really? I don¡¯t see any flowers in the soft earth. Only the acid spitting mud toads.¡±


    My lips parted to offer a robust defence.


    Instead, I watched as a small group of, yes ¡­ acid spitting mud toads leapt free of the burrow they¡¯d made, chasing after the giant mudcrab whose armour they cared little about.


    ¡°This ¡­ well, this is merely because we¡¯re in the countryside! ¡­ Indeed, here upon the edges of my kingdom, everything is home to nature, and that includes the very roads we travel upon!¡±


    ¡°Oooh, I get it! That¡¯s why you have so many hoodlums!¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡±


    ¡°But just out of curiosity¨Chow much of your kingdom is actually the countryside?¡±


    ¡°H-How much? ¡­ Well, there hasn¡¯t ever been an official declaration ¡­ but suffice to say, the rolling hills, verdant meadows and ancient forests can be seen from all four corners ¡­ and maybe sometimes the middle as well.¡±


    ¡°... Soooooooo, is your entire kingdom just one big countryside?¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°C-Coppelia! How could you ask that? Why, you¡¯ve even visited Reitzlake! A jewel so envied that none outside my kingdom needs to speak of it! The intricate architecture you¡¯ve witnessed cannot possibly suggest everything is simply the countryside!¡±


    ¡°True, very true. I apologise.¡±


    I smiled ¡­ just before narrowing my eyes in suspicion.


    ¡°Truly ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡± Coppelia nodded zealously, her fists to her chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but your doors are seriously impressive!¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ by any chance, are you referring to when you kick them down?¡±


    ¡°The feeling is amazing! I¡¯ve kicked doors all over the place. Most of them way nicer looking. But the ones in this kingdom crumble just the right way. Like a nice sponge cake after that first bite.¡±


    This time, a groan escaped me.


    Not because the doors of my kingdom were more destructible than those belonging to my neighbours. On the contrary, that was simply a testament to the thoughtfulness of my craftsmen, knowing that if their doors were to be kicked down, then they may as well be built to do so spectacularly.


    Rather ¡­ it was because my tummy was rumbling.


    Coppelia had said the taboo word of the day.


    Cake.


    Slowly, I swallowed a deep breath.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Hoping against hope, I leaned to the side and opened up the designated bakery bag.


    What stared back were coconuts.


    Just coconuts.


    Not a single croissant waiting to shed half its weight in flaky pastry for the deer to nibble on.


    The implications were dire.


    After all, it wasn¡¯t only us who were suffering. Our crumbs were responsible for feeding half the wild animals of my kingdom. A habit which meant they didn¡¯t need to nibble on my orchard instead. And now it was all being threatened.


    ¡°Coppelia ¡­ there is no cake.¡±


    ¡°There are goblin moss cakes,¡± she said merrily. ¡°You haven¡¯t touched your share yet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s untrue. I thoroughly poked them. All lack the texture of the moss cake the halfling made.¡±


    ¡°I mean, those were less moss cakes and more just breaded deliciousness in a palm. Real goblin moss cakes are a lot more plain. And nutritious.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly an advertisement. If a cake doesn¡¯t instil immediate feelings of regret just by holding it, then it¡¯s no good. That¡¯s where the joy is derived.¡±


    ¡°In that case, you¡¯ll be happy to know that squished moss cakes are at the bottom of the bag maturing with the coconuts! I was saving them for later, but you can have them too. There¡¯s no way you won¡¯t feel regret just by looking at them.¡±


    ¡°My, thank you very much. But they¡¯re yours. I insist.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡±


    ¡°Very sure ¡­ after all, I intend to be consuming a mille-feuille with pralin¨¦ mousseline cream and crunchy hazelnut bits by the end of the day!¡±


    I offered a confident smile.


    Ohohohoho!


    Indeed, although my tummy was wavering, my heart was not!


    True, this was the greatest crisis that we, or rather, my entire kingdom had ever faced.


    A budding peasant revolt was a problem dwarfing the schemes of any hoodlums now fated to craft soap until I remembered their plight. Because the coconuts aside, our provisions were now bare. And when all was bitter in taste, all was bitter in life.


    However!


    I was no lesser princess, doomed to the despair of a world with sugar free confectionery. I didn¡¯t just sit upon my hoard of princess points while smiling condescendingly upon my peers simply for show.


    No ¡­ it was also so I could leap over them when opportunity demanded!


    ¡°Fear not,¡± I said, smiling as I placed a hand upon my chest. ¡°Although these past few days have been fraught with hardship, know that this will soon come to an end. Not only will we soothe whatever outrageous concerns the most ignored of my peasants have, but we shall also turn them into my kingdom¡¯s most ardent subjects.¡±


    Coppelia hopped down from her branch. Her arms sprang up with joy as she landed.


    ¡°... Bribery! Sweeteners! Hush money!¡±


    I was appalled.


    ¡°E-Excuse me! I am not going to bribe my peasants!¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. Is that because you think it¡¯s too expensive or it wouldn¡¯t work?¡±


    ¡°Neither! ¡­ It¡¯s because it¡¯s against principles.¡±


    Coppelia tilted her head slightly.


    ¡°Eh? Really?¡±


    ¡°Of course! ¡­ Why, if I started bribing irate peasants, they¡¯d stop farming and start complaining instead. That¡¯s far more profitable. And once complaining is all they do, they¡¯re already halfway to becoming nobility. I could never have my farmers suffer such a humiliating downturn in status.¡±


    I shook my head, my empathy overwhelming.


    That¡¯s right! My peasants might be unreasonably voicing their dissatisfaction, but that hardly justified such a demeaning response!


    Fortunately, there were better balms available¨Call of which involved my gentle touch.


    ¡°Naturally, this won¡¯t be an easy affair. But it needn¡¯t be complicated, either. It¡¯s clear that the recent calamities through no fault of my kingdom is the cause of this unease. As such, all I need to do is reassure my peasants that the worst has already passed.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh~! That¡¯s brave of you. I¡¯m impressed!¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°If you say the worst has already passed, then that pretty much guarantees something terrible is going to happen. I¡¯ve never heard anyone actually say those words.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia, I¡¯ve already been to Ouzelia. There¡¯s no possibility of anything more terrible happening.¡±


    My loyal handmaiden gasped.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then swiftly glanced around in every direction.


    ¡°P-Perhaps I won¡¯t use those exact words ¡­¡±


    The giggling assailed me at once.


    I ignored it and looked ahead, setting my sight upon the top of the muddy slope.


    Somewhere beyond was the first glimpse of the Wessin Bridge¨Cas well as whatever scenes of restlessness awaited. True, I had little idea how severe the discontent was ¡­ but while this was doubtless a delicate matter, I was also a delicate princess.


    Indeed!


    As long as my peasants weren¡¯t needlessly angered any further, everything could be fixed!


    In fact¨Cthere was just one problem.


    ¡°Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~?¡±


    ¡°Do you smell something rather ¡­ distressing?¡±


    ¡°Yup. It¡¯s like your towns. But worse. I¡¯m shocked. That¡¯s really hard to do.¡±


    I frowned in puzzlement.


    Because as Apple crested the slope, a pungency as familiar as it was utterly out of place assailed me.


    Indeed, it was what I woke up to during the height of my kingdom¡¯s various celebrations¨Cwhen the Summer Solstice Festival was in full bloom, when a royal birthday was being celebrated or when my father found a poetry book that an unnamed princess had tied with stones and dumped in the middle of a lake filled with carnivorous piranhas.


    It was the fumes of cologne. The oil of hair wax. The whiff of charcoal powder.


    A cauldron of unfortunate scents needed for the upkeep of personal grooming used exclusively by the knights of my realm. Quite a few as well, given the way my nose instinctively wrinkled.


    This was odd.


    My knights were always busy.


    What with, I didn¡¯t know. Nobody did. Except that it didn¡¯t involve each other.


    Unless drawn to a common cause involving festivities, caf¨¦s and very occasionally, battles, they had no cause to be here. There were no tournaments to be found near the Wessin Bridge.


    ¡­ But that didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t create one for themselves.


    ¡°W-W-What is this ¡­ ?!¡±


    My mouth fell open at the sight before me.


    The banners rose high as their open tents, revealing knights stood vigilantly behind mirrors, their eyes stern as they studied the smoothness of their chins. Swords, lances and armour were on display, arranged upon tables in such a way that they could be efficiently fitted at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Loud as the colours of their banners, the knights of my kingdom readily put the boasting of common louts to shame. Within the boundary of their makeshift wooden fences, cheers and winces filled the air as jousting knights took turns crashing into each other.


    Everywhere I looked was the fervour of chivalry-approved hooliganism ¡­ as well as complete ignorance regarding my despair.


    Because there¨Cscarcely a stone¡¯s throw from the impromptu joust, were the first of my irate peasants.


    ¡°You! I know you! How dare you show your face again after deceiving my daughter! She still thinks you want to marry her!¡±


    ¡°Thieves! All of you! You barge into my tavern and leave only broken chairs! You need to pay for every last bit of damage!¡±


    ¡°You good-for-nothings! How dare you call yourselves knights after escaping through my window! It wasn¡¯t enough that you snuck in, you broke my house on the way out!¡±


    ¡°Villains! I had to replace all the straw in my barn after what I caught you doing!¡±


    I was horrified.


    Before me was the only thing which could stoke the flames further than I could soothe.


    ¡­ The presence of those responsible for half the stress of my kingdom¡¯s fathers!

 Chapter 351: A Raven In The Night

    Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.


    An unusual silhouette flew across the face of the moon.


    Were anyone to look up, they''d be forgiven for thinking themselves mad.


    Although horrors as great as fire breathing dragons, giant cockatrices and common seagulls might be expected to terrorise the night sky, few would ever expect to see a young maiden skirting beneath the clouds.


    Even fewer would expect the young maiden to be wearing pink pyjamas.


    ¡°Nnnnhh ¡­ uwaaa~¡±


    Miriam Estroux yawned as her small, bat-like wings struggled to propel her forwards.


    Usually, vampires revelled in their mastery over flight. Because for all the things which fled at their coming, none parted as swiftly as the clouds. Unlike the daytime, the moonlit sky was their domain.


    Usually.


    Because unlike other vampires ¡­ Miriam was chronically malnourished.


    It was even official.


    The Royal Villa¡¯s resident physician had told her.


    He didn¡¯t even need to poke her. He¡¯d just looked.


    She¡¯d politely declined the offer of a goat. For one thing, goats were cute and she didn¡¯t want to be the reason for a goat telling all its goat friends the reason why it was having a bad day. Which being drained by a vampire would most certainly result in.


    But for another, she didn''t like blood.


    Not a single bit.


    She didn''t like the look of it. She didn''t like the taste of it. And she certainly didn''t like the process of stabbing something with her teeth which really didn''t want to be stabbed while drinking them like a mango smoothie.


    Other vampires thought differently, of course.


    But other vampires chose their path of unlife for reasons usually to do with felling kingdoms from the shadows while forging an empire of endless blood sacrifices and free maiden buffets.


    Miriam just wanted to read.


    And for the most part, she¡¯d achieved her wish.


    Ignoring the adventurers, heroes and sisters who would chide her on daring to leave everyone alone before then trying to burn her for it, unlife as a vampire was more or less what she expected.


    But that didn¡¯t mean she never paused.


    Although she was never a social butterfly, the fact remained that centuries of solitude sometimes made even the least extroverted wonder if it was necessarily healthy to only hear the sound of her own squeals as The Phantom Rogue swiped another heirloom pendant from around the neck of a young duchess via sweeping her whole from a moonlit window.


    These days, she didn''t need to wonder.


    Each hour spent in the Royal Villa was filled with sound. Of servants hurrying to-and-fro. Of a library being steadily expanded. Of maids playing and fussing over her silver hair.


    Miriam never knew she missed these sounds.


    But far from distracting her from her reading, they only added colour to it. A backdrop of life in a royal household, mimicking much of what she read in her books.


    Just minus the dashing thieves.


    After all, there were many places where riches could be illicitly earned. And of them, most didn''t have a troll guard diligently polishing the vault door.


    In Reitzlake alone, there were endless estates and manors, each lightly guarded, yet boasting secrets hidden to the eyes of the tax inspectorate. However, while the nobility were adept at hiding their treasures, they were less capable of moving them.


    No matter how subtle the mouse in the field, the raven upon the branch would always see it.


    And this one was swimming alone in a wide river.


    Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.


    Below her, Miriam found what she was searching for.


    A merchant''s vessel navigating the river out of Reitzlake and towards the Wessin Bridge. Revealed beneath the moonlight, its trailing wake against the calm waters was as clear as footsteps in the snow.


    An unusual scene when dawn was so far away.


    All the more so given the amount of activity. The ship was narrow and slim, yet more sailors swarmed its deck than any vessel of its size could reasonably demand. They flitted about like ants freshly woken from their nest, their smiles lit by the torches and the coins exchanging hands.


    Even from up high, the faint laughter could be heard.


    A chorus of satisfaction. Of complacency. Of a successful escape.


    Miriam nodded.


    And then ¡­ she slowly descended.


    Another tired yawn soon filled the air. Given the size of her wings, she had to supplement her flying with magic. The endeavour was more draining than any lich¡¯s touch. And yet by the time she was peering through the window of the captain''s quarters, all sense of fatigue left her.


    She listened for a moment, hearing nothing but the creaking of the vessel and the voices from the deck.


    ¡°[Frozen Touch].¡±


    Then, a panel of glass turned into a layer of frost against her palm.


    With the following tap, it silently shattered.


    Miriam floated inside, her wings beating furiously as her feet touched the newly made carpet upon the wooden floor. It was the richest piece of decoration. Sparse and discreet, few would ever suspect that a treasure worth more than the value of the ship and all its crew was within this modest cabin.


    But Miriam hadn''t come here as a regular burglar.


    She was here as the Royal Villa''s newest librarian.


    Her eyes went to the desk. A plethora of journals were on display. Each was a treasure in its own right, for the captain of this vessel was known for as many tales as there were drunken sailors in bars. But Miriam was here for something rarer.


    The Icy Duke''s Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame.


    Specifically, the original manuscript.


    Written almost a century ago and still as divisive as the colour black, it was repeatedly panned as the worst romance book ever written. But all things had value.


    And most importantly, all things were subjective.


    Miriam liked it.


    Ignoring the journals, she swept over to the nearest bookcase and studied the spines with a sweeping finger. She pulled them down one at a time, flicking through the larger tomes for hidden pages as she searched for a treasure many would die to own.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°That¡¯s the wrong shelf.¡±


    Especially if it always came with a crossbow.


    Miriam looked to the side.


    Standing at the open doorway was a woman resplendent in a captain''s formal attire. Despite the deep scar marring her cheek and the long hair covering an eye where most would use a patch, she possessed a striking beauty which only sirens usually boasted while at sea.


    ¡°Well now,¡± said the woman, her crossbow more steady than her ship. ¡°I was told to beware the gulls. A good thing I was on the lookout for vampires instead. A happy coincidence.¡±


    The silver bolt gleamed beneath the moonlight streaming through the windows.


    A deadly weapon, more practical and cowardly than any stake. And were Miriam a different vampire, she would have made the mistake of testing her speed against it.


    For as the captain calmly stepped inside, so too did her sailors.


    A dozen swept past her, huddling before their leader. The cutlasses they wielded were steel, but they were sharp and coated with silver oil dribbling upon the floor.


    Miriam scratched at her tummy.


    ¡°Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Your ship has fewer cannons than your tales would suggest.¡±


    ¡°My tales are out of date,¡± replied Dread Captain Neritha with a smile. ¡°I¡¯ve since turned a new leaf. As well as a new ship.¡±


    ¡°A sad turn, then. There are few pirates of renown these days.¡±


    ¡°Even fewer now that so many have absconded. Times have been hard on us honest pirates. Our galleons are unwelcome, now with the 1st Princess commanding the Golden Prince¡¯s ship and the man who proposed to me no less than 5 times now nowhere to be seen.¡±


    ¡°I believe the Golden Princes''s whereabouts is public knowledge. If you haven''t yet heard, I''m more than happy to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Please don''t. I much prefer ignorance. It''s less embarrassing that way.¡±


    The Dread Captain¡¯s chin nudged forwards.


    It was enough for the sailors under her command to move at once. Filling a space fit for only half their number, the sailors surrounded Miriam, their silver imbued cutlasses but a lunge away.


    ¡°We do not fear the reach of the kingdom, whether they serve in life or death. You made a mistake in coming here, vampire. Our backs can be caned, but not our pride.¡±


    ¡°Then you''ve nothing to fear. I didn''t come for your pride. Only a book.¡±


    ¡°Well, that sounds like a negotiation to me. In that case, my galleon is waiting. I''m certain we can include any item you desire as part of your ransom.¡±


    Miriam yawned with a hint of her fangs.


    ¡°Very well. I will make the first offer ¡­ Anise?¡±


    The sailors tensed. Unlike their captain, they wore their apprehension more freely.


    All the more so as they suddenly retreated as one.


    ¡°Tea is ready.¡±


    As if she''d always been there, a smiling maid in a distinctly custom uniform appeared beside Miriam.


    The sailors took several steps back to the sight of her cheerful smile. They were right to. Although the claws she''d apparently once possessed as a banshee were no more, it didn''t mean she was harmless.


    After all, what shone more than her smile was the tea pot she held upon a small plate.


    One which held very little tea.


    ¡°This is a flaming tea pot,¡± said Miriam matter-of-factly. ¡°Inside is one of the most volatile liquids ever conceived. If dropped or improperly handled, the tea pot will violently explode, releasing the liquid and setting your ship and all it holds ablaze.¡±


    Widened mouths met her declaration ¡­ mostly over the fact that a vampire was stooping so low as to use a tea pot as a threat.


    The indignation was brief.


    An enthusiastic maid gave the tea pot the slightest of tilts, resulting in a small sprout of something more green than red erupting from the tip. Terror filled every expression. All except the Dread Captain¡¯s.


    ¡°A vampire willing to use fire,¡± she said with a hard smile. ¡°How quaint. Are you also willing to see your prize burn as well?¡±


    ¡°The Icy Duke''s Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame survived more 1 star reviews than there are actual stars in the sky. It can survive fire. The only thing which threatens it is the dust on whatever shelf you would see it languish upon.¡±


    Dread Captain Neritha''s smile didn¡¯t fade.


    Even so, her eyes noticeably narrowed.


    A moment later, she motioned again with her chin. This time behind her.


    ¡°Out.¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Everyone out. I will handle the vampire.¡±


    Hesitation answered her. A single frown later, and all the sailors pretending not to be relieved slowly filed out, cutlasses held aloft even as the door closed before them.


    Now alone, the Dread Captain stared over her crossbow.


    ¡°... So, what do you think of the book?¡± she asked, her tone bereft of emotion.


    ¡°I think it is a work of historical relevance and a classic in its own right.¡±


    ¡°That wasn''t my question.¡±


    Miriam gave a hum of consideration.


    ¡°Entertaining and unpretentious. I think it''s a scandal that it never received a sequel. Readers at the time simply weren''t allowed to express their true feelings. If it was released today, it would be competing with A Court Lady''s Indiscretion upon the windows of bookstores.¡±


    A moment of silence answered.


    ¡°Heh.¡±


    The woman nodded.


    Suddenly, a flame shone in her one eye, greater than any which could be emitted from even the most dangerous of tea pots.


    And then¡ª


    Thwack.


    She loosed the silver bolt nestled upon her crossbow ¡­ tearing away a map draped upon a wall.


    Revealed was a small, rectangular alcove. Only a handful of books fitted within. Each was instantly recognisable, their spines as colourful as the words of scandal and illicit affairs within. All except one.


    Miriam offered an appreciative nod.


    Tattered and frayed, there was no hint it was the same book which had shaped all of her current reading habits ¡­ including those of Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart ¡­ or as she was known in certain circles, The Kraken Girl.


    ¡°Ah, such a shame,¡± she said, casually tossing her crossbow to the side. ¡°Despite a dozen noble ladies each threatening to stab me for the right to slobber over this book, it seems the choice has been taken out of my hands. Against a dangerous vampire threatening alchemical fire, what can I do?¡±


    Miriam carefully retrieved the manuscript from the alcove.


    No complaints were levelled against her. After all, in the literary world of romance, all shared a bond of camaraderie. Especially when it concerned works nobody wished to admit they secretly enjoyed, despite everyone sharing the same sentiment.


    She offered it to Anise, who accepted it upon her free palm with trained ease. Despite a dangerous tea pot and a priceless book in either hand, the maid still managed to bend her knees in a polite curtsy before vanishing as easily as she arrived.


    A gesture soon to be followed by Miriam.


    ¡°The dangerous vampire offers her gratitude,¡± she said, nodding with a pleased smile. ¡°This is a rare find and must be preserved. May I ask how you came to find it?¡±


    ¡°Same way I find most things. By cheating at cards better than the one in front of me.¡±


    A lie.


    Miriam knew it at once. She wasn¡¯t confrontational, but at the same time, she also hadn''t created one of the most comprehensive networks of publishing industry contacts across multiple kingdoms without being able to discern falsehoods from truths.


    Plus, the woman''s brow was twitching.


    ¡°Such works are rarely found alone,¡± she said, her voice as insistent as she could make it while yawning. ¡°Or without reason. If there are more, I''d like to know while I¡¯m on my monthly stroll outside.¡±


    The Kraken Girl shrugged.


    ¡°Usually, I''d agree with the sentiment. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. Even more so when it comes with a bucket full of bad omens.¡±


    ¡°Why? Where did you find it?¡±


    ¡°A house,¡± came the simple reply. ¡°A nice little one as well. All the way out in the woods, overtaken by the weeds and the riff-raff from Reitzlake thinking the trees were enough for us to forget them.¡±


    ¡°Do you mean to say outlaws possessed this book?¡± asked Miriam, mostly out of hope.


    ¡°If they did, they kindly chose not to burn it. Didn¡¯t find the ones I was looking for, but found where they were staying instead. An abandoned lordling''s home. Mostly emptied, but they left what they couldn''t steal, break or read. That was everything in the library.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ and did you find many other books?¡±


    ¡°Plenty. And they''re still waiting for you if you can find them.¡±


    ¡°Why? You didn''t collect them?¡±


    ¡°Tried to. I came back with as many wheelbarrows as I could fit between the trees. Didn''t need to bother. I couldn''t find that nice little house again. Only mist as thick as smoke. And also half my crew gone cold with sweat. Bad omens all around.¡±


    The Dread Captain nodded seriously. Miriam blinked.


    ¡°... Is that it?¡± she asked in all earnestness.


    ¡°That''s it. And that''s all anyone needs to know. A sailor''s intuition doesn''t stop just because it''s land. We got lucky. That wasn''t a place meant for those who walk this world, living or unliving. I expect curses work the same on us all.¡±


    It did.


    But Miriam didn''t just walk. She also flew. And for the moment, she was still awake.


    ¡°This is a wide stretch of countryside,¡± she said, blinking to keep her eyes fully open. ¡°It makes sense if there are homes once occupied by rural nobility here. Did this home have any emblems or insignias on the walls or doors?¡±


    ¡°Sure did. Each as scary as a bump in the night.¡±


    ¡°Why? What was it?¡±


    The Dread Captain wore a slight smile.


    Then, she pointed towards her lips.


    ¡°Like a masked face twisting into a laugh.¡±


    Miriam became utterly still.


    Suddenly, all thoughts of buried romance books exited her mind. For the image she saw instead was clearer than all the embossed covers still waiting for her to categorise.


    A laughing mask.


    It was a household crest she''d seen often.


    An unusual, even unfashionable choice for a coat-of-arms. Yet it suited the one she¡¯d last seen wearing it. Likely since he¡¯d picked it out himself. That man was always nothing if not whimsical. A fact which made up most of his charisma.


    After all¡ª


    It was how he''d convinced Miriam to become a vampire.

 Chapter 352: The Masters House

    The mist was formed of magic.


    Miriam could tell by the tingling in her wings.


    To others, it was a cold which sapped willpower itself. A deterrent more effective than any wall. But to her, it was little more than a pleasant tickle. And perhaps it was true for those who lived here as well.


    And that meant there was competition.


    Miriam knew little about what went on in the kingdom outside of its bookshops, but she didn''t need to imagine who would make their homes in the lawless forests where nearby towns were few and unguarded farms were plenty.


    She saw them instead. Or at least where they¡¯d slept.


    Hints of camaraderie revealed themselves to her as she weaved amidst the mist. Campfires turned to ash. Bundles of tattered bedrolls. Racks of fish now so rotten even the crows stayed away.


    And then she saw the scars.


    There were wounds upon trees where they''d been struck by instruments more blunt than sharp. The outlaws here managed to make enemies of each other more than they did of any guards. And their prize was to loiter upon the doorstep of the least welcoming abode in the woods.


    An abandoned manor house.


    Miriam blinked down at the sight.


    Rather than appearing from a distance, its fa?ade of imposing stone, black tiles and pointed chimneys came with little warning. Locked within a boundary of mist, only silence was there to greet her as she lowered herself before the door.


    Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart hadn¡¯t downplayed its ominousness.


    Ivy had claimed much of the walls, creeping over the balconies and smothering the windows. Or at least those that were visible.


    Despite the presence of the moonlight, all it did was reveal the darkness blinking from within. A feeling of foreboding permeated this place, deeper than any grave.


    Miriam nodded ¡­ all the while wondering why she never considered having her own haunted mansion.


    Despite the presence of brigands, the lack of furniture strewn outside was evidence that solitude was possible. She held no complaints about her cave in Stermondt, of course. It was cosy and warm. And she had even fewer complaints about her tidy bedroom now. But if she knew that a secluded manor drowning in fog was more than just a gimmick, she would have made one herself.


    Miriam realised there was much for her to learn.


    And she¡¯d begin by finding out whether or not she was the only vampire in the kingdom.


    Knock. Knock.


    She lifted the door knocker in the shape of a laughing mask and announced her presence.


    A moment later, she was welcomed by a door creaking open and a dark hallway lit by the dimmest candles available. She gratefully accepted.


    Stepping inside, she waited for the door to close behind her before admiring the atmosphere.


    There were no cobwebs or dust. But there was something more ominous. A malevolence lived within this manor. A chill which seeped from the regal furnishings. And despite the laughing of the masks on the walls, no such sound greeted her.


    ¡°... Hnnffghhh ¡­ !!¡±


    Only a muffled cry was there instead.


    Miriam paused, tilting her head as she listened.


    Desperate and faint, it was rather like Miriam struggling to escape the combs of the maids when they saw the sloppy state of her hair moments after waking up.


    All she heard next was the floor creaking as she followed the candles.


    They lit a path before her, winding through the hallways rich in decoration but empty of colour. The chill became more prominent as she went, the pleasant tickle turning into an icy finger against her skin.


    She still didn¡¯t mind. And before long, she arrived at the most foreboding place yet.


    A dining chamber fit for a banquet.


    Here, a long table draped in white linen was revealed beneath a spidery chandelier. A dozen guests were already seated, each the politest diners any host could ask for.


    After all, they were dead.


    Skeletons in formal attire sat in various poses of conversation, skulls lifted back in silent laughter or hands raised in a toast. But while Miriam couldn''t speak on behalf of the atmosphere, she at least saw that the table didn¡¯t lack in food.


    ¡­ Just not the type she usually snacked on.


    ¡°Mmmmffphh!! Mmnhhhfh!! Nnnphh!!¡±


    A freckled girl squirmed upon the table.


    Wearing the simple dress of a common villager, she struggled against the ropes which bound her. Yet despite her frantic movements, she managed to only flop upon the table like a trout upon land.


    However, as if sensing the sudden draft through the doorway, she turned her head and blinked at the new arrival. A look of desperate hope filled her face at once.


    Miriam was horrified.


    She''d made eye contact.


    That meant she now had to do something ¡­ maybe, probably.


    Anything else was too awkward.


    Feeling the weight of expectation upon her shoulders, Miriam scooted forwards, then apologised to the skeletons as she reached past. The girl stopped squirming. But not because her inexperienced saviour was now here.


    It was because of the figure observing from above.


    ¡°... And which burglar, I wonder, would be so crass as to dare steal away my meal?¡±


    Miriam looked up.


    There upon a balcony was the spitting image of an aristocrat.


    A man who was tall and slim, with an expression as stern as the fa?ade of his manor.


    It fit with his attire. A court tunic as immaculately woven as his hair¨Cpure white, long and wavy in the style of a powdered wig. Except that unlike the actual powdered wigs popular with dukes, admirals and balding men, his was very much real.


    He just spent a lot of time on it.


    Master Harkus of Revarin.


    Keeper of the shadows. Scion of darkness. Count. Lord. Duke. And the person who''d offered Miriam the first leaflet concerning all things vampirism.


    He had all of these titles and more. It didn¡¯t matter. His first was superior.


    He was a master of his own kind, whose name had outlasted even the kingdom he was born in. Even if few would ever guess that. Only in his eyes was there a hint of his true age.


    They were dark and sunken, like wells which had yet to find the bottom.


    ¡°Speak now,¡± he said, the icicles practically forming in his words. ¡°Or forever hold your peace. I do not entertain unexpected guests. But I do permit them to leave¡ªin soul, if not in body.¡±


    A moment later, the mottled skeletons around the table began to labour in their seats.


    Miriam didn¡¯t pay them any attention. She blinked at the frowning figure above.


    Then, she offered a wave.


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Harkus. It''s me.¡±


    The skeletons paused. As did the lips of the master vampire which had begun to curl into a smirk.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    A moment later, he squinted while leaning over the balcony.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°... Why, if it isn''t the young countess herself!¡±


    Fwooooosh.


    All of a sudden, light filled the dining chamber.


    Both the darkness and the ominous atmosphere was brushed aside as torches, braziers, candelabras and no less than three additional chandeliers burst to life.


    It was nothing compared to the delight upon the master vampire''s face.


    He hopped down without reservation, gracefully landing beside the skeletons and the girl whose eyes were wide with terror. Especially as a small flock of bats appeared seemingly out of nowhere.


    ¡°Miriam Estroux!¡± said Master Harkus, his arms raised in joy. ¡°How little you''ve grown! I do apologise. I expected you to be ¡­ well, not quite dressed like that. What manner of attire are you wearing, may I ask?¡±


    Miriam lifted the sleeve of her pyjamas.


    ¡°It''s modern fashion.¡±


    The master vampire hummed, then nodded regardless. The warmth not in his blood was very much in his voice.


    ¡°Is it now? Goodness me, how swiftly these things change! It''s a wonder how the feeble minds of mortals even keep up. But then again, I suppose that''s why they''re permanently underdressed. Not like you. You look spiffing ¡­ if also somewhat pale. And not in a good way.¡±


    Master Harkus leaned forwards and studied Miriam¡¯s complexion with academic curiosity.


    ¡°... You look parched. Peasants not to your noble taste, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Well, no,¡± she said truthfully.


    ¡°I see. Understandable. Standards once raised cannot be lowered. But that''s why we only pick the best. I see you''ve already experienced the issues with that. Have you made a farm yet?¡±


    ¡°A farm?¡±


    ¡°Of those containing suitable lineage. I''d be stunned if you haven''t. With your familial connections, it should be relatively simple.¡±


    Miriam shook her head.


    ¡°I''m a countess in name only. My former holdings are long lost.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn''t matter. Your title is more important than any jumble of chimneys. And I doubt kowtowing will change no matter how many centuries pass. If you haven''t begun work on your farm yet, I advise it.¡±


    ¡°Um, actually¡ª¡±


    The master vampire instantly held out his palms.


    ¡°Oh, please don''t think I''m pressuring you. I understand well the thrill of the hunt. But I''d be remiss not to say that all vampires are doomed to realise that convenience and sustainability are things that can only be achieved over several centuries of social engineering. Just something to bear in mind.¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°Thank you for the advice. But if you don''t mind, may I ask why you happen to be here?¡±


    ¡°You certainly may! I''ve been resting. Or indulging in triumph, I should say. The downfall of the Rozinthe Imperium was a tiring affair. But equally some of my damn best work. You should have seen it. An empire collapsing. Rebellion on the streets. Flames in every window. And all because I convinced Empress Halyconia that cats were the devil''s pets. The plague which happened? Beyond my wildest expectations. Didn''t need to lift a finger. It was marvellous.¡±


    Master Harkus smiled so broadly that even the jaws of the skeletons seemed to shift into a grin.


    Miriam simply stared.


    ¡°Oh, I see. It''s just that I thought you might have been destroyed.¡±


    ¡°Well, I admit it was close at times. The Cowled Magisters began to suspect interference almost immediately. Luckily, I convinced them that a necromancer was at work. Which was excellent, since there actually was. Completely accidental. Never felt so guilty about an execution before. His plan was better than mine.¡±


    Master Harkus offered a nod of acknowledgement.


    Then, all was promptly forgotten as he gestured before him.


    ¡°But let''s not indulge in dullness. You are far more exciting. How has the young countess fared in these past few centuries? I promised I wouldn''t pry, but curiosity is ever my weakness after a slumber. Have you subdued any kingdoms or¡ª¡±


    Suddenly, the master vampire paused.


    His eyes widened. And then his palm slapped himself theatrically upon the head.


    ¡°¡ªCountess Miriam, I am ever so sorry.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It''s only natural you''d make this kingdom your first choice of subjugation. The utter thoughtlessness of me. I had no intention of interfering in your schemes. This is so embarrassing. Of course you''d be here to query my presence. Please tell me I haven''t ruined anything.¡±


    ¡°You haven''t ruined anything.¡±


    ¡°... Truly? In that case, perhaps I might be bold enough to offer assistance? I still feel regretful about being so busy last time. If nothing else, we can ensure our plans don''t conflict. Naturally, I''ll concede to you on every point. It''s your kingdom to subdue, after all.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°I have no interest in subduing the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°It sounds tiring.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I suppose starting slowly is suitable too. What do you have planned, then?¡±


    ¡°To work.¡±


    ¡°... Work?¡±


    ¡°I''ve secured gainful employment as a librarian. In return, I''m offered a weekly salary.¡±


    For a moment, the master vampire did nothing but stare at her.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°Bwahahahahahaahaha ¡­ !!¡±


    The bats which were hanging from the ceiling fled as the master vampire lifted his head, mimicking half the skeletons behind him in riotous laughter.


    ¡°A librarian!¡± he said between bouts of amusement. ¡°Quite the interesting disguise! Goodness, I confess I''ve never even considered using that before!¡±


    ¡°It is not a disguise. I am a librarian.¡± Miriam tilted her head slightly. ¡°... I did say that I only wished to become a vampire so I could read.¡±


    The laughter faded at once.


    Instead, a look of utmost exasperation appeared so suddenly that it was like a river had patiently waited to pour forth from just around the corner.


    ¡°Excuse me? Do you mean to say that your vampiric instincts haven''t shovelled that away yet ¡­ ?¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    The grief expanded ten fold at once.


    ¡°Good hells, Miriam! I don''t know whether to be impressed or horrified. I did not humour your request for unbridled power only to see it wasted on literature! I did it because I saw talent! How has your desire to consume the world from the shadows not emerged? ¡­ Even the merest taste of blood should be enough to awaken it!¡±


    ¡°I don''t drink blood.¡±


    ¡°You don''t drink blood?¡± Master Harkus''s jaw dropped. ¡°How do you even survive?¡±


    ¡°I substitute blood with a diet of tea and sugar.¡±


    ¡°That is atrocious.¡±


    ¡°I like it.¡± Miriam yawned while stretching her arms. ¡°I also like working in a library. It''s fulfilling. But it does mean I have schedules at threat of being delayed. I''m sorry, but is it possible for you to conduct your own work elsewhere? I¡¯m worried about the budget.¡±


    The master vampire looked like he was about to self-combust.


    ¡°Is it possible? Certainly so. Will I do it? Not for that.¡±


    Miriam had no response.


    After all, her only words now were to be directed to the king and queen. She''d need to inform them that a master vampire was present. And that now meant making her excuses, leaving, and then avoiding wherever in the Royal Villa all the silver crossbows were going to be stored.


    There was just one problem.


    Bwam.


    The bound girl as she rolled off the table.


    She gave a small groan against the rope in her mouth, then did her best to flop away. It wasn''t very good. She was as mobile as a tied up ham ready to be roasted.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Miriam, pointing at the girl. ¡°But may I ask who this is?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Master Harkus turned, then nodded. The grief on his face lessened at once. ¡°... Ah, this would be my needless indulgence. I hope you won''t tattle. It''s not good to indulge so soon after waking up, but this one is special. Perhaps you can tell?¡±


    ¡°She looks like a village girl.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she very much is. But her blood is particularly pure. More like a sister''s than a common villager''s. You come across it more rarely these days. Would you like to partake? She''d be an excellent choice to wet your fangs. I¡¯m certain that¡¯s all you need.¡±


    The girl looked up, her eyes slightly swollen and red. She shook her head as much as she was able.


    Miriam looked awkwardly away.


    ¡°Thank you, but I must decline.¡±


    Master Harkus nodded without disappointment. On the contrary, he wore a renewed look of satisfaction as he peered at the squirming village girl.


    ¡°So be it. In that case, I suppose I''m simply forced to observe the most sacred traditions of our kind for the two of us.¡±


    ¡°Hmmmfghh ¡­ !! Nnngff ¡­ !! Nnnnmfh ¡­ !!¡±


    Miriam plucked at the end of her sleeve as the girl looked desperately at her.


    Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do.


    She had to warn the kingdom. That was the most important thing. Attempting to rescue a village girl wasn''t in her interests. She had no means to fight a master vampire even if she were at full strength.


    Moreover ¡­ Miriam simply wasn''t a heroine.


    She had never once appeared beneath the moonlight to save those in need, just like those in the stories she read. Just like a certain princess.


    That wasn¡¯t her role.


    Thus, her shoulders drooped as she readied her excuses ¡­ all the way until she pointed at the girl attempting to snail her way to the window.


    ¡°I will do it,¡± said Miriam simply.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I wish to partake in doing vampire things with the tearful village girl.¡±


    Master Harkus looked at her in shock.


    Then, he raised his arms in joy.


    ¡°Why, so you could sense her purity! Absolutely marvellous! I knew it was only a matter of time! By all means, indulge to your heart''s content! You''ve no need to worry on my account¡ªplease, consider this a belated welcoming gift!¡±


    Miriam smiled. And then she waited.


    ¡°... Will you be watching?¡±


    The master vampire blinked.


    A moment later, he gave a hearty laugh, mimicking the masks upon the walls.


    ¡°My apologies, Countess Estroux,¡± he said, offering a short bow. ¡°I forget my manners¨Cas well as something urgent I happen to need to do. I shall return when it¡¯s appropriate.¡±


    With a merry smile, his form became a flock of bats, taking to the balcony where he had first appeared and leaving only a horrified village girl behind.


    Miriam nodded.


    Then, she leaned down, scooped her up and ran.

 Chapter 353: Scions Of The Night

    Miriam wasn''t certain how many tales she''d read about innocent maidens being swept up in the arms of their saviour.


    All she knew was that it was a lot.


    And that all of them had eschewed one important detail.


    ¡°Mmmmgnfh?! Mmmgnff!! Mmnnfhgh!!¡±


    It was really hard.


    Miriam was shocked.


    All the evidence she''d gathered through centuries of late night binge reading while sat upon her pillow was unequivocal.


    The problems only started once the villains decided to send their best henchmen. That was usually around the same time every cliff, balcony and tower began crumbling, as well as all the things which didn''t usually explode now being inexplicably filled with combustible material.


    Miriam''s problems began immediately.


    ¡°Ah, apologies ¡­ apologies again ¡­ again, my apologies ...¡±


    Carried upon her arms was a maiden in distress.


    Except that this particular maiden in distress was bigger than Miriam. Not by much, but that didn''t matter. Miriam had a small frame, and while vampirism did much for her eyes, it did little for her figure.


    With time, she could learn to alter her voice, her age and her appearance. She could pretend to be a pauper on the streets or the Grand Duchess herself, weaving a plot as complex as the ending to A Summer Knight¡¯s Dream, Vol III ¡­ so long as the Grand Duchess was also her height, of course.


    Despite the powers of vampirism, not even the darkest of arts could raise one''s physical elevation. That was something archmages were still trying to solve.


    A slight problem.


    Because as it turned out, most people who rescued maidens could actually see over them.


    Pwash.


    A vase smashed against the ground.


    A painting was propelled off the wall.


    A tea table was sent hurtling backwards.


    ¡°Mmgnfh ¡­ ?!¡±


    One after another, Miriam''s hopes of a discreet exit were undone by either the foot or the head of an increasingly distressed village girl.


    It was, to put things bluntly, extremely inelegant.


    Despite the size of the hallways, they were filled with a litany of furnishing. All found themselves targets of her clumsiness as Miriam juggled her bound damsel with the need to speedily exit in a way which didn''t cause more than a handful of winces as pottery shattered around her.


    She was failing.


    Boomph.


    Hence, she had little cause for complaints that upon arriving at the final hallway, what appeared before her was a great sphere of blood.


    It twisted and turned, writhing in the air before imploding into the smiling figure of one whose hair was now slightly more wavy than just before. That wasn''t the only change. His court tunic now had a few more frills. His cravat scarf was a new colour. And his shoes had turned into flared leather boots.


    Miriam was stunned.


    In just the brief time she''d dashed from the dining chamber to the exit, he''d already seen to his hair and wardrobe.


    ¡°... My dear Miriam!¡± said Master Harkus, hurriedly throwing away a comb. ¡°Are you leaving so soon? Why, you''ve only just arrived!¡±


    The village girl trembled in Miriam¡¯s arms. The sounds of either pain or distress had ceased, replaced once again by a silent look of horror.


    ¡°Sadly, I must,¡± she said with a polite nod. ¡°Thank you for seeing to my curiosity. However, I''m afraid I have other engagements to attend. I only wished to know if you''d returned.¡±


    ¡°And so I have. I take it that won''t be an issue?¡±


    ¡°It will not.¡±


    The master vampire raised his arms as though to invite a hug.


    ¡°Well, then I dare say whatever engagements you have can wait another night! This is a special occasion. The last time we spoke, you were scarcely out of the proverbial oven. Now look at you. Already eager to dash away to warn the wrong people that their worst nightmare has now awoken.¡±


    ¡°I''ve no intention of doing such a thing. While I admit I¡¯ve no interest in any ongoing plots you may have prepared, I do not intend to be an obstacle, either. I have a library to manage, and sadly this comes with few luxuries regarding time.¡±


    A hearty chuckle answered her.


    ¡°Well, that I don''t doubt ¡­ most curious, isn''t it? For all our immortality, it seems we don''t have enough hours in the night to do all the things we want.¡±


    Miriam nodded in agreement.


    She''d calculated it herself. Books were coming out faster than she could read. A thought both terrifying and exciting. But mostly terrifying.


    ¡°I agree. And so I¡ª¡±


    ¡°In which case,¡± he interrupted. ¡°I would like to insist upon an extension of your stay. Especially since you intend to enjoy your meal on-the-go. A highly controversial choice for your first indulgence. Trust me when I say that these things are better done in the comfort and proximity of a napkin.¡±


    Master Harkus clicked his fingers.


    A brief fluttering of wings later, a polka dot napkin was delivered upon the village girl¡¯s horrified face via delivery bat. Miriam blew it away.


    ¡°Thank you. But I would like to indulge in the comfort of my own home.¡±


    ¡°And so you may. But not before you consider the ¨¤ la carte menu of wicked schemes I¡¯m simply dying to discuss with you. I¡¯d simply feel terrible if I didn¡¯t at least attempt to convince you. I''ve a variety of plots fit for every kingdom of every size, you see. I''m confident at least one of them will tickle your fancy.¡±


    Miriam raised a brow ¡­ all the while leaning slightly away.


    She''d already had her fill of scheming. Long before she¡¯d been sucked in by her first illicitly acquired novel, she was a member of the nobility, with all the endless conniving that entailed.


    However, this wasn¡¯t the only reason for her sudden discomfort.


    It was the flamboyancy.


    The theatrical movements. The wild gestures. The pompous clothing. The speech more close to a song than any normal conversation.


    Miriam indulged in drama. In the delight of foul ruses and villainous speeches. And yet not even in the worst of her reading history could she find an evildoer who wore his calling so thick that it was like a drape which smothered all necessary thoughts of restraint.


    Master Harkus was the worst image of a vampire, through and through.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    A career scoundrel more sinister than a smile in a tavern corner, whose abode wasn''t in the manors, crypts and castles he owned, but in the shadows they cast.


    To her young self, such adherence to his character was impressive.


    But Miriam was different now.


    Perhaps not outwardly ¡­ and in truth, not a lot inwardly, either.


    But even if her reading tastes hadn''t changed, her standards in pantomimes did. And witnessing such obsessive commitment to duplicitousness was much more embarrassing when it was occurring outside the words of a page.


    It was, in fact ¡­


    ¡°Clich¨¦d.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Clich¨¦d. Your performance is clich¨¦d. And not in an appealing way.¡±


    A blank expression met Miriam''s rare chastisement.


    ¡°Ah ¡­ A-Ahem ¡­ my apologies, my dear countess, but to what do you refer? My honest and virtuous wish to bring you beneath the umbrella of darkness so that you may help spread the canopy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That.¡± Miriam frowned slightly. ¡°It is tired and overdone. I understand you wish for me to craft an insidious scheme to subvert this kingdom until the people can no longer see the light upon the horizon. But I''ve not a shred of interest in it. And to be frank, I don¡¯t see why you do, either. What purpose is there in scheming for the sake of it, other than to hear your own cackling because no one else will join you? It¡¯s embarrassing. And I think you should stop. Frankly, you¡¯re much too old for this.¡±


    For a moment, the master vampire fell silent and still.


    Even the puffs of his attire seemed to deflate. A silence deeper than any well filled the chilly air.


    Miriam expected the worst, knowing instinctively she¡¯d erred.


    Vampires did not condone insults to their character, no matter how truthful. And in a moment, the fury would flare beneath the cracking of pride just before the walls received a new layer of red paint.


    Instead ¡­ Master Harkus let out a sigh.


    All the merriness was gone ¡­ yet nor was there indignation either.


    Only a sombre expression remained on his face, the sudden creases upon his forehead as foreign as the sight of him covering them with a palm.


    Miriam was deeply confused. As was the village girl in her arms.


    They both waited.


    A moment later, the master vampire gestured towards a sofa against the wall.


    ¡°Please sit.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Take a seat, if you would. It is time that we had a ¡­ little talk.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    However, seeing the entrance still blocked, she slowly took a seat on the sofa. The village girl she awkwardly placed across her lap ¡­ most of her poking off to the side.


    Master Harkus sat beside them.


    An expression of utter seriousness was on his face. One far different from the vampire who''d so jovially welcomed both her appearance and her botched escape.


    ¡°Miriam.¡±


    ¡°Yes ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°My apologies, but I''ve not been entirely open with you.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ ? And what have you not been open with ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°The fact that I¡¯ve not been cursed with smelling the odour of this insignificant kingdom without reason. It¡¯s no coincidence that a captain of a pirate vessel just so happened to find my manor, nor that they could breach the mist which surrounds it. That ¡­ book was to make its way to you. And then you to me.¡±


    Miriam''s apprehension rose. As expected, no gift was free.


    ¡°Very well. And why is that?¡±


    ¡°To have a conversation I hoped to avoid. Sadly, despite my optimism, I see that my worst fears are confirmed. And so it falls upon me to shoulder my portion of the responsibility.¡±


    Master Harkus raised himself slightly.


    His eyes, sunken as they were, seemed even darker as he grappled with the words he wished to speak. A solemn air enveloped him like a lector at a funeral.


    Then, he frowned.


    ¡°You''ve been making us look bad.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°... Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been embarrassing us.¡±


    ¡°Us? Who is ''us''?¡±


    ¡°Us. All of us. Vampires. Your actions have been highly unappreciated.¡±


    Confusion did the rounds in Miriam¡¯s head.


    As far as she knew, she didn¡¯t know any vampires enough to embarrass them.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything,¡± she said honestly.


    ¡°No. If you hadn¡¯t done anything, then that would have been fine. Doing nothing is simply us biding our time before we cause the downfall of the next innocent kingdom. That is perfectly acceptable. What is not, however, is this ¡­ Pink Raven tripe.¡±


    Miriam couldn''t keep her eyes from widening.


    Her identity was a secret known to few. And of them, most were still only hazarding educated guesses. A man with no interest in romance literature could not have known.


    ¡°I don''t know what¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please, you may spare me the denials. Your movements haven¡¯t gone unnoticed¨Cnor your wings. And the result is that I, yes, I had to defend you ¡­ with utterly no warning, I should add.¡±


    All of a sudden, the master vampire threw up a hand in exasperation.


    The sombre atmosphere was flicked aside with it.


    ¡°Allow me to paint the scene for you. There I was, laughing amidst the lifeless warmth of the most pallid company. The blood sucking leeches of the Nocturne Court, all gathered together in a cosy crypt to boast, lie and accidentally push each other into a basin of holy water. A fine evening with rotting dinner, a group of terrified troubadours and room to elevate me in a ceremony long overdue. I was happy. I was content. And yet just when I was due to begin regaling my tale of conquest over Rozinthe for the 99th time, that''s when conversation turned to the matter of my spawn. You.¡±


    He shook his head, for all the world as though Miriam had deliberately sought to disappoint him.


    ¡°... Really? A secret network of literary contacts?¡±


    ¡°Yes? What is the issue?¡±


    ¡°The issue is that if you''d just made that into a network of informants and thralls, then that would have been perfect. It would have been appropriate. What you do instead is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°How I choose to spend my own time is no concern of yours.¡±


    ¡°It is very much my concern. Because your reputation is the reputation of all vampires. Frankly, I was delighted when I''d heard you''d vanished from your cave. Excellent, I thought. The young countess is finally freeing herself from her shackles. Instead, I hear rumours about a vampire turning up at the home of royalty. Not to enslave them. But to work for them.¡±


    Master Harkus leaned back on the sofa like an old man whose every bone was aching. The sigh he exuded was so cold it turned to mist.


    ¡°... Unholy gods, Miriam. Are you trying to make us a laughing stock?¡±


    ¡°No, I''m trying to keep to my own interests.¡±


    ¡°Your interests are unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°To you, maybe. But I fail to see how the reputation of vampires can possibly get worse just because I''ve chosen to categorise books. All that will do is improve our image.¡±


    Master Harkus''s expression tightened.


    ¡°Our image is precisely what¡¯s at risk. Do you think we¡¯ve worked tirelessly to scheme in the shadows since time immemorial for the sake of it? No. We do it because it is vital. Reputation is our armour.¡±


    ¡°Vampires have blood magic and the ability to turn into bats.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But even that has limits. A very tall limit, yes, but not one immune to our walking desserts suddenly thinking that a silver spoon is enough to destroy us. That is highly inconvenient.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Harkus¡ª¡°


    ¡°Master Harkus.¡± He wagged his finger. ¡°I didn''t personally bring down the greatest empire the continent has ever known only to be confused with a professional cat tamer in Granholtz. From now on, you shall refer to me by my title. That is the proper decorum. And I¡¯ll also ensure that before you leave, you understand the meaning of being a scion of the night. Teamwork makes the dream work, Miriam. And you are not exempt.¡±


    Without an inkling of shame, he instantly brushed aside his ire and replaced it with a smile.


    ¡°Fortunately, it''s nothing blood can''t fix,¡± he said, pointing at the village girl hoping to be forgotten. ¡°Your mind is famished, but I see the cure wriggling upon your lap. Now, do you understand what you must do?


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Will you do it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    A sigh met her simple response.


    He stood up, adopting a frown like a disappointed parent.


    ¡°Very well. Then I must take matters into my own hands. This no longer only affects you, after all.¡±


    ¡°And what is it that you intend to do ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Something very simple. I will have you drink this squirming girl''s blood¨Cone way or another. With that said, I suggest you enjoy this moment. Especially as you don''t have the strength to say otherwise.¡±


    Miriam stood up as well.


    Doing her best to ignore the pitiable groaning coming from the direction of her arms, she more than matched the frown.


    ¡°Then you shall need to think twice. I possess strength you do not.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re malnourished. What possible strength do you have?¡±


    ¡°A teapot,¡± said Miriam simply.


    The master vampire stared at her.


    Then, he turned around ¡­ just in time to see the smile of a ghostly maid and the alarming object held above her head.


    ¡°Greetings!¡±


    Pwashh.


    A flaming teapot promptly smashed into his face.

 Chapter 354: A Theory In Blasphemy

    Miriam thought this wasn''t too bad.


    It still wasn''t anything quite close to a graceful exit. There were no swinging curtains or sledding down a hillside. But it wasn''t too bad. And when the thing being escaped from was a vampire considerably stronger than her, anything which wasn''t too bad was actually very good.


    All around her, the misty forest welcomed her escape.


    A nightly breeze swept her silver hair behind her as she dashed across untamed woodland with her highly distressed charge held in her arms. But luckily for the village girl, she had no need to worry.


    After all, her fate was unlikely to be as bad as the one awaiting Miriam.


    She peeked behind her to the sight of a raging inferno.


    Somewhere in the hells, a devil was offering a toast to her work.


    What used to be the imposing fa?ade of a haunted manor was now a scene of unbridled devastation. Much of the building was toppling down, walls and all, while any windows to remain were simply furnaces spilling with the fury of a genius with a very short safety checklist. Flames more green than red consumed the very air as the scent of something alchemical mixed with the charring of wood and stone.


    And all of it caused by a single flaming teapot.


    Miriam was impressed.


    She''d need to convey the results to Princess Clarise, if for no other reason than to ensure this was counted as research and not a deliberate attempt to set everything on fire.


    And that meant studying the outcome from a healthy distance.


    ¡°[Flight].¡±


    As Miriam ran, her tiny wings sprouted from her back.


    Supported by her magic, she instinctively hopped into the air ¡­ and then stumbled as she instantly came down again. The village girl in her arms gave the tiniest groan of discomfort.


    Sadly, there''d be more to come.


    Unable to take to the air, Miriam decided on the next best thing.


    Using her wings to propel her forwards like a leaping bunny.


    Without hesitation, she bounded through the trees, magic at her heels and a tired pair of wings fluttering from her back. She skipped through the endless foliage, snapping every twig and rustling every shrub until the colour of the flames finally diminished and all she could see was mist.


    She slowed but didn¡¯t pause.


    Sadly, even the most potent flame was unlikely to do more than wrinkle a master vampire''s skin. Yet she couldn''t run forever. At least not with the village girl in tow. She needed to hide her somewhere a master vampire was unlikely to follow.


    And Miriam knew just the place.


    Even the thought of it was causing her to feel uncomfortable.


    After all, despite the strengths of vampires, they had weaknesses. Not many. But they were severe.


    Enough that even the most powerful member of the Nocturne Court wouldn''t dare test themselves against nature''s most powerful guardian ¡­ which was why when Miriam heard the sound of flowing water, she had to shove all her instincts for self-preservation to one side in order to follow it.


    Her bravery was rewarded as she stopped before the most modest of streams, barely wide and deep enough to cover one''s ankles. It was enough.


    Finally deeming the village girl safe enough to allow her to wildly panic, Miriam set her down upon the grass. A pair of frightened eyes looked up at her. She offered a reassuring smile.


    ¡°[Glacial Dagger].¡±


    And then held a weapon of gleaming ice over her.


    ¡°Mmnnnghh!! Mnnngh?! Nnhgh!!¡±


    ¡°Please stay still. I shall release you.¡±


    The squirming villager slowly froze, only becoming perfectly still when Miriam kneeled beside her. She carefully guided the dagger over the girl''s many bindings, each wrapped so tightly that her skin was almost bleeding from the friction.


    The freshly released girl waited a moment for Miriam to do something generally evil.


    When nothing happened, she sat up, winced as she felt her limbs moving, then looked at her saviour.


    ¡°... Am I free now?¡± she asked in a quivering voice.


    Miriam pointed at the stream.


    ¡°Not yet. But you will be. Follow the stream and keep your feet within the waters at all times. Running water is highly dangerous to vampires. He will not follow you.¡±


    ¡­ At least not while Miriam was somewhere else, of course.


    Pride demanded that she be hunted first. Which meant they both needed to escape.


    ¡°[Flight].¡±


    Wasting no time, she stood up and gracefully lifted herself.


    Oddly, the village girl wasn¡¯t fleeing. She was instead staring at Miriam¡¯s wings, her mouth agape.


    ¡°Why ¡­ Why did you save me?¡± she asked, swallowing a dry gulp.


    Miriam gave a shrug.


    ¡°It''s what she would have done.¡±


    Not waiting for the bewildered response, Miriam made good on her escape.


    The mists receded along with the rest of the forest. With a shaking of leaves and branches, she flew up and broke free of the canopy to a welcoming haze of moonlight sifting between the dark clouds.


    As the cool air tickled her skin, she peeked down to see the faint silhouette of a girl stumbling down a stream¡ªif not towards safety, then at least somewhere safer than where Miriam was heading.


    Master Harkus knew where she worked. And that meant the Royal Villa was in danger.


    Empowering her wings, she shot towards the cover of the clouds. Her plan was simple. Crash into the courtyard while shouting incoherently about everybody needing stakes.


    There was just one problem.


    ¡°Ahh?!¡±


    A whip formed entirely of blood.


    Miriam gave a squeak of surprise as all sense of equilibrium left her. A lashing weapon snapped around her waist like a coiling rock python.


    The next moment, she felt herself pulled back down ¡­ and then swung in several directions, up, down, left and right, the clouds switching places with the forest canopy several times, until finally¡ª


    ¡°I am deeply unhappy.¡±


    She appeared upside down in front of a very cross looking vampire.


    Master Harkus hovered before her, boasting a much greater set of wings than her.


    They were shadows as black as the smoke being emitted from his head and torso, for despite the prominence of those wings, all Miriam could notice was the fact that the man was now half-naked. Much of his garments were now scattered patches of charred fabric.


    Something he noticed as well, given his irate expression.


    ¡°This was custom tailored,¡± said Master Harkus, gesturing at himself. ¡°All of it. That you ruined a perfectly good dinner outfit is already an issue. But the fact that the tailor is long dead is another. I¡¯m now going to have to raise him as a ghoul and hope his claws have the dexterity to sew me a new doublet. I am very doubtful.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Oh, indeed. You set me on fire. Do you have anything to say for yourself?¡±


    The master vampire rotated Miriam several times. She brushed her silver hair from her face and nodded.


    ¡°Yes, if you could, is it possible to describe how it felt to be doused by it? It¡¯s for research purposes.¡±


    Master Harkus leaned in and scowled.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Perhaps you should see for yourself.¡±


    And just like that ¡­ Miriam was tossed.


    The blood whip suddenly snapped to the side, hurling the delicately framed countess like a pebble tossed by a hill giant. She flew faster than a diving albatross. And now she was heading straight into a crumbling manor merrily burning with bright alchemical flames.


    Miriam admired the sight¨Cjust before curling into a ball.


    Fwipfwipfwipfwipfwipfwip.


    A moment later, she emerged as a flock of bats.


    A sense of weightlessness took hold of her, allowing her to avoid the worst of the burning manor. She burst through the smoke and returned to the depths of the misty forest.


    The shifting in forms hurt greater than the lashing flames. Although it was more an illusion than true transfiguration, that didn¡¯t stop the feeling of nausea which occurred from suddenly having a hundred pairs of eyes.


    It was still better than the alternative.


    She sensed the figure following behind. A shadow blotting out the moonlight, unconcerned with anything other than slowly making his ire known. And that meant the end of her tale.


    The end.


    Miriam was officially stuffed.


    After all, against a superior vampire, little could be done other than to calmly accept one¡¯s grisly demise. And while she could attempt to flee or hide, it was clear this would only delay the inevitable.


    Thus, only one option remained.


    Violent self-defence.


    Miriam needed to destroy a full strength higher vampire.


    Here, now, and with everything she possessed.


    That wasn¡¯t a lot. Her magic was dwindling, and while she could conjure a passable weapon, she had neither the skill nor training to use it.


    The greatest hope was that the presence of two vampires was such anathema that the Holy Church would dispatch a band of murderous holy sisters to eradicate them both.


    ¡­ Or failing that, the next pious option.


    ¡°You told me this place was hidden. But I can still see your ugly mug, Sourface.¡±


    ¡°Shaddup. If you can see mine, I can see yours. And it¡¯s my eyes which are bleeding.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re both uglier than each other. Only thing not obvious is who¡¯s dumber.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be you, Lemmy. And maybe Patches as well.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s definitely Patches. Man, who tries to steal a horse from behind? Good thing nothing important was lost.¡±


    Specifically, the next, next, next pious option.


    A small band of common brigands.


    She heard it. The laughter. The cackling. The snorting.


    A campfire and a group of rogues.


    It wasn¡¯t her first choice. It wasn¡¯t even her last choice. But Miriam was nothing if not open to assistance. Especially since there was a limit to how long she could maintain her form as a flock of bats without flying into a tree.


    Without warning, she swept over the campfire and gathered herself together.


    Appearing in the midst of just four wide-eyed ruffians, she tugged at the hem of her pink pyjamas and offered a swift curtsey.


    ¡°Good evening, gentlemen. I apologise for the sudden interruption. I am in need. Have you by any chance stolen any artifacts, weapons or armour related to the Holy Church or with divine properties?¡±


    The flames dimmed in the campfire, turning into embers as Miriam remembered to smile.


    The bandits gawped at her.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!¡±


    They ran.


    Scrambling, tripping, screaming, the men darted like mice caught in the open. All except one.


    As he slipped on a perfectly dry patch of dirt, he instinctively threw the closest thing he had on hand as he desperately rushed to escape the mysterious bat girl in pyjamas.


    A spoon.


    Miriam idly flicked it away ¡­ yet to her surprise, it was just the tiniest bit cold.


    Ignoring the bandits, she looked down at the offering.


    Not even a large spoon. But a spoon for desserts.


    A thing so tiny it was used exclusively for eating pudding as slowly as possible. A standard tool used by nobility to extend conversation which all knew had to end the moment the last bite was consumed.


    And it was ¡­ not silver.


    Maybe there was a little bit in there. A thin coating, perhaps. A common trick used by blacksmiths or merchants whose customers were keen to purchase silver cutlery at an astonishing discount.


    Miriam blinked at it.


    She tilted her head. She thought. She hummed.


    And then ¡­ she nodded confidently.


    Yes.


    This would do.


    Miriam kneeled down at once. She picked up the slightly cold spoon and began to scribble right there on the ground. Not words, but symbols.


    Hunching over the dirt the brigands had made, she recalled a scene permanently etched in  her memory. She knew she remembered correctly. As she drew, a feeling of immense nausea began to overtake her as though she were balancing on the deck of a swaying ship.


    Soon, that feeling of nausea became so intense she wanted to throw up. All the more so as she imbued every morsel of magic she possessed into the counterfeit silver spoon.


    She continued regardless, ignoring the aching of her tummy ¡­ and even the flapping of a pair of wings.


    Master Harkus barely looked down as he landed right beside Miriam.


    ¡°... Really?¡± he said, the disappointment clear in his voice. ¡°Come now, Miriam. This is pitiful. Runes?¡±


    Miriam paused.


    Then, she leaned over and began drawing right between the man¡¯s scuffed shoes.


    ¡°Runes,¡± she replied simply.


    The master vampire rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Ugh. This is beneath you. Do you think any magic you perform is enough to harm me? I¡¯m virtually immune to all the common elements. What do you hope to do? Destroy the rest of my attire?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but only because it comes naturally with destroying you as well.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll need to try when you¡¯ve learned how to perform blood magic. And perhaps once you¡¯ve regained your senses as well. Your ascension into being a vampire has clearly addled something in your head. This is not why I chose to give you this gift.¡±


    ¡°I thought you turned me into a vampire because you had nothing else to do.¡±


    ¡°No, I turned you into a vampire because I chose you. I do not make thralls, Miriam. I made an exception. An exception I must continually remind myself of. I saw something in you. You did not seek power. But power is already inside you. I saw it. A spark of something unique. Something I couldn¡¯t allow to wither away before your time had come. I saw in you the potential to become my prot¨¦g¨¦.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Master Harkus looked aggrieved.


    ¡°That is not the correct response. I¡¯m due to be raised to the table of the Nocturne Court. And any vampire who stands behind my fashionable new cloak is guaranteed to also be raised to the table of the Nocturne Court. That is how influence works.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already a countess. And a librarian. That will do.¡±


    ¡°Not for me. Your aloofness was supposed to morph into cold unfeelingness as you threw away all your mortal desires. Not to disregard the world of shadows in order to indulge in terrible literature.¡±


    Miriam briefly paused.


    ¡°The literature I read is marvellous,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°They also contain villains far better than you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to serve as your entertainment. I¡¯m here to do a job.¡±


    ¡°You spend your days sleeping and drinking. You don¡¯t have a job.¡±


    Master Harkus¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Yes, I should be celebrating my triumphs. But because of your apathy, I now need to pick up the slack, wasting valuable time on a kingdom so insignificant I had to use a map to remember where it was. A map.¡±


    He stomped his heel on a rune, smudging the soil beneath. Miriam immediately began fixing it.


    ¡°In Rozinthe, I had to stop myself from flying into a mage tower constantly. In Granholtz, I went within 15 kilometres of the White Citadel and had to evade so much holy magic I thought they were catapulting sisters at me. But here? There isn¡¯t a single landmark in this tiny speck of dirt. I cannot even boast about subjugating this worthless kingdom. What am I supposed to say when the next meeting of elders gather? ''Oh yes, I conquered the Kingdom of Tirea. The cows stood no chance against my machinations''. That is humiliating. See what I endure to fix your errors?¡±


    Miriam looked up and smiled, her final work complete.


    ¡°I do not. But I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re due to be even more disappointed.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°The runes I¡¯ve drawn do not represent any of the common elements. They are holy runes.¡±


    Master Harkus fell silent.


    He then looked down, assessing the runes for the first time. His face promptly filled with outrage.


    ¡°Miriam! You drew holy runes?!¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That is ¡­ blasphemy! Do you not feel disgusted with yourself?!¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°I do, actually. I feel rather ill.¡±


    ¡°That is nothing less than you deserve! And to what purpose? This isn¡¯t just pitiable, it is ridiculous! What did you hope to do by etching out holy runes? You are not a sister!¡±


    ¡°No. But I became deeply acquainted with one during a spell of captivity ¡­ including her runes written beneath my very pillow. I¡¯m confident these are accurate.¡±


    ¡°It doesn''t matter if they are! These vile things do nothing but desecrate my reputation!¡±


    ¡°These runes were drawn by a silver instrument.¡±


    Miriam raised her spoon. The master vampire looked like he was considering returning to his coffin to recover from the mental damage.


    ¡°That is worth less than a quill! You cannot imbue these runes!¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And what is your point?¡±


    ¡°My point? My point is exactly that! These runes are nothing more than disgraceful drawings! They are functionally worthless! I cannot believe I need to explain this. You are a vampire¨Cby the laws of this world unable to perform holy magic. The very discomfort you experience now is proof of that!¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°More.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I am not very bright. Please use sound and logical arguments for why the runes will never under any circumstances activate and explode under us.¡±


    The look she received was nothing short of overwhelming incredulity.


    ¡°Miriam,¡± he began, his voice almost softening from the sheer disbelief he was clearly feeling. ¡°Holy magic is the antithesis of all we stand for. It¡¯s the bane of our existence. Moreover, such a slapdash effort is terrible even if this was regular magic. You cannot just sketch on the ground and pray.¡±


    Deciding that enough was enough, Master Harkus reached out as if to scoop up an errant house cat.


    He stopped to wear a shocked expression instead.


    Because at that very moment, white veins began to light all around him, ushering away the night.


    ¡°My hypothesis is correct!¡± Miriam clapped her hands excitedly in joy. ¡°Oh, this explains so much! The patterns on these runes fall under the auspices of Lady Iessa, Goddess of Mirth! That means they¡¯re also imbued by her hand and explode at her whims! Isn¡¯t that wonderful?!¡±


    The master vampire looked at her in horror.


    ¡°Well, I hope you''re happy. You¡¯ve successfully committed heresy.¡±


    ¡°I am, yes.¡±


    ¡°And how do you intend to escape from this? You are, at least on parchment, a vampire.¡±


    Miriam shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯m blasphemous. I¡¯ll pray.¡±


    A moment later, the holy runes glowed more merrily than they did at the bottom of a mine.


    And then everything exploded.

 Chapter 355: In Case Of Emergency

    A haze of afternoon sunlight welcomed us as we arrived at the Wessin Bridge.


    Arching over a valley, it stood as a monument to the ingenuity of my kingdom. A twin drawbridge formed of dark stone and hardy oak faithfully guarding the river passage into Reitzlake.


    Its task was simple.


    To ensure no ships larger than a merchant¡¯s cog could enter without paying a toll in either crowns or masts ¡­ for what overlooked it was also a fortified watchtower doubling up as a lighthouse, filled with more tax inspectors than actual guards.


    As such, it was a splendid work of pragmatism and function¨Cif not quite beauty.


    Sadly, despite its very official purpose, that hadn¡¯t stopped it from becoming a waystation for weary travellers. And although the Wessin Bridge could never be called a town, the amount of pubs, taverns and inns it boasted couldn¡¯t be beaten by even the docks of the royal capital.


    Here, there was no allusion to restraint.


    No chapels, sewers or noble estates existed for drunkards to escape my horrified guards ordered in no uncertain terms to arrest them for littering the ground with their vomit.


    And that meant alcohol.


    Lots of alcohol.


    This was a problem. Because currently, the weary travellers were no longer traders.


    Instead, they were a mob of enraged farmers and a host of my kingdom¡¯s knights sent for whatever terrible reason to make things worse.


    Thus, only one of two things could happen.


    1: A bloodlust fuelled rampage. Violence, pitchforks and flames as the farmers rightfully enacted retribution for all the daughters the knights had promised and failed to marry, followed by the ensuing panic as the amnesiac knights sought to defend themselves against the threats to their hairline.


    Or worse¨C


    2: Everything I was seeing.


    ¡°Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink Drink!¡±


    I tugged Apple to a pause.


    My hands covered my nose. It still wasn¡¯t enough.


    The odour of debauchery was overwhelming. As was the destruction.


    Tables, chairs and window shutters lined the lane which made up this impromptu settlement.


    And the culprits were all around me.


    To my left, a bold and gallant knight of my realm stood atop the remains of a door, several steins of alcohol being juggled to loud cheers as froth and liquid went spiralling in all directions.


    To my right, farmers and knights took turns to ride a large wooden keg, each drawing winces and laughter as they diligently attempted to crack more bones than each other.


    To my front, a squire had his own master in a headlock while repeatedly palming his back. An olive was spat out a moment later, its arrival marked by the cheering of a crowd only marginally disappointed nobody had died.


    Everywhere I looked, I witnessed a scene of drunken revelry. If something could be broken, it already was.


    There was only one exception.


    The spirit of camaraderie.


    That had been repaired.


    ¡°Yer a lousy piece o¡¯ work,¡± said a farmer, his head swaying side to side as he sat beside a knight with a bruise on his cheek. ¡°The worst ruffian I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± replied the knight, his voice slurred as he raised an empty wine glass. ¡°I admit I¡¯m the worst ruffian you¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Lazy. Womanising. Dull. But you ¡­ you ain¡¯t too bad.¡±


    ¡°Same goes for you, my two headed friend. Same goes for you.¡±


    And just like that, they toasted to a friendship forged in the flames of alcohol.


    I paused in thought.


    A moment later, I turned to my beaming loyal handmaiden.


    ¡°Coppelia.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I seem to have forgotten why we came here.¡±


    ¡°The stated reason we came here is due to the threat of civil unrest propelling the downtrodden peasants of your tiny kingdom into a wide ranging rebellion. The true reason is because of a lack of cake.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I nodded. ¡°Thank you. I remember now.¡±


    ¡°No problem! Want to know my assessment?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Your kingdom is doomed.¡±


    I placed my face in my palms.


    It ¡­ It was true!


    Normally, I¡¯d deny her words. And yet as I ignored a brave knight volunteering his helmet as a drinking cup, all I could see was the ruins of my kingdom¡¯s image!


    If that was gone, then nothing else remained!


    ¡°Why ¡­ Why is everyone inebriated ¡­ ?!¡±


    Indeed, no matter where I looked, it was a scene of unacceptable festivity!


    There was only one reason for so much public joy! And my birthday had already passed!


    But the worst part was ¡­ I¡¯d seen this before!


    Many times!


    Indeed, the way they tossed aside all thoughts of decorum as they headbutted the ground ¡­ it was exactly like how adventurers acted on any given day!


    The unbridled devastation! The property damage! The disorderly conduct! The shameless vandalism!


    This was exactly like stepping into any guild hall of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild!


    In fact ¡­ if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, this was uncannily like the Adventurer¡¯s Guild ¡­ almost as if there was an open bar somewhere, with utterly no thought towards consequences.


    My suspicions rose at once.


    Raising myself on my saddle, I looked over the heads of the bumbling drunkards. I found the culprit at once.


    A smiling young woman in an all too familiar uniform, boasting a sign over her shoulder.


    Happy Hour, Every Hour!


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    A Free Drink With Every Purchase!


    The Wessin Bridge Adventurer¡¯s Guild


    ¡°Happy hour is still here!¡± she cried, waving her sign like the surrender flag this entire organisation was fated to do. ¡°We have a fresh delivery of golden ales, local plum wines and unmarked alcohol which requires a waiver form to be signed! Every drink comes with another free drink!¡±


    My jaw dropped.


    Before me, the receptionist of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild cheerfully enticed customers towards the direction of the most desecrated building here.


    Even the sign was loose, hanging upon a single nail as it whacked against the heads of every satisfied customer streaming in and out of the guild hall.


    I could scarcely believe it.


    ¡°How ¡­ How dare they!¡± I said, throwing up my arms in grief. ¡°These parasites¨Cno, something worse¨C these ¡­ these pebbles with sharp edges on a beach in human form! ¡­ They are now profiteering on the threat of a rebellion!¡±


    Indeed!


    It could be nothing else!


    I was outraged! All this time, I¡¯d generously assumed they only wished for overt political power under the thin guise of assisting the common people with their mundane wishes for a better life!


    Instead, here they were, outright earning crowns on the back of calamity!


    ¡°Oooh~ I smell bay leaves.¡± Coppelia went to her tip-toes in interest. ¡°I think the customers are adding things to the food cauldron. Want to give it a try? I bet the taste of shoes is almost hidden away.¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°If the taste of shoes is almost gone, then the guild will need to add it back in. This is unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°... You mean you prefer shoes?¡±


    ¡°No, I prefer the Adventurer¡¯s Guild not encouraging drunken behaviour outside the confines of their halls. It is most certainly not needed. This is appalling!¡±


    I wrinkled my nose at the mess.


    Someone other than me was going to have to tidy this up. And they could begin immediately after answering my questions.


    Thus, I tugged on Apple¡¯s reins once more.


    He trotted forwards, bravely ignoring the overwhelming odour as well as anyone unfortunate enough to mistake him for a giant moving wig.


    ¡°Happy hour is still here! Come visit the Adventurer¡¯s Guild for a ¡­ oh, greetings! How may I help you?¡±


    We stopped before the smiling receptionist.


    She stood as though behind a desk, posture straight as a ruler and smile immaculately woven like a spider¡¯s web. Naturally, I wouldn¡¯t be tricked. Whatever scheme she was taking part in, I would discern.


    Especially if she simply told me.


    ¡°Salutations. My apologies for disturbing you in the midst of a busy trading session. However, I must query if you have the appropriate licence for it. As far as I¡¯m aware, the guild doesn¡¯t have permission to empty its unwanted liquor onto the streets.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, we do not,¡± she replied, all the while leaning her sign away from my loyal steed¡¯s searching nibbling. ¡°However, we¡¯ve been given emergency permission by the local garrison.¡±


    ¡°Emergency permission? To do what? Lower productivity?¡±


    ¡°The guildmaster was concerned with rising aggression due to the presence of multiple conflicting parties. In order to stem this, he suggested dispensing our stores of beverages at extremely low prices. This initiated aggressive cost cutting throughout all the alcoholic establishments in the area.¡±


    The receptionist smiled as she directed another drunkard towards the guild branch.


    ¡°It appears to be successful,¡± she said brightly.


    My mouth widened in disbelief.


    ¡°Excuse me?! You flooded the town with cheap alcohol to lower hostilities?! What if it went wrong?!¡±


    ¡°In that case, the guildmaster would propose a new idea.¡±


    ¡°And what is that?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I do not know. You would need to query him.¡±


    The receptionist duly pointed to the side.


    There, partially naked and full of mirth, was a drunkard who was beyond saving. He was surrounded by an applauding audience as he demonstrated how to not only conquer riding one rolling keg, but two at the same ¡­ for all of the two seconds he wasn¡¯t a sprawling pile on the ground.


    I pursed my lips.


    These people.


    Others saw a kingdom in peril. They saw it as an opportunity to get drunk.


    ¡°... Fine.¡± I turned to the receptionist. ¡°You will do.¡±


    ¡°Of course! What may I help with?¡±


    ¡°Everything. Please explain in five words or fewer what I¡¯m seeing. I heard there were needlessly unhappy peasants at the Wessin Bridge. I¡¯ve now arrived to see a host of knights despite the fact that they¡¯re the last people I would summon for anything other than a hand mirror. Why is this?¡±


    The receptionist nodded.


    ¡°Outlaws.¡±


    Hmm.


    Only a single word. And yet I was already filled with regret. A valuable skill for when I eventually hired each and every receptionist to my side instead.


    ¡°I see ¡­ and what is this about outlaws?¡±


    ¡°There has been an unprecedented increase in banditry in the region. The Wessin Bridge garrison captain believes that the outlaws who reside in the south of the Ivywood have become organised. However, despite the increased patrols, the guards have been unable to discern where the outlaws operate. The knights are here to assist.¡±


    I looked around me.


    At the assisting knights. Most of them on the ground.


    That in itself wasn¡¯t a surprise. Knights were the greatest brigands of all when it came to making a mess of taverns. But what was unusual was the fact they were here in such numbers.


    Their gentleman¡¯s agreement regarding not angering too many fathers in one place ordinarily didn¡¯t allow it.


    ¡°It¡¯s unusual for so many knights to answer such an ordinary call for assistance,¡± I said, leaning away in anticipation for what was to come. ¡°... What else is there?¡±


    ¡°¨CA pale knight.¡±


    Suddenly, a deep voice came from behind.


    I duly turned around to see a suit of gleaming armour shadowing over me.


    I looked up. And then I looked up some more.


    Before me was an inhabitant of the Spiral Isle. The land where chivalry still held sway, officially ranking as the safest place in the world for a princess to nap outside of my orchard. A realm where knighthood was celebrated and honour was found even in the seediest alleys.


    A minotaur.


    A rare sight in my kingdom.


    Especially since the last one I¡¯d seen wasn¡¯t so much a questing knight as a common bandit. A true pioneer. Yet while I couldn¡¯t vouch for this one, I could accept he at least dressed the part.


    Both his silver armour and the greatsword upon his back were so bright that more than a few knights were being dazzled awake from their drunken states. The rest stared at the thick horns protruding from the finely crafted helmet instead.


    The minotaur paid them no heed.


    ¡°There is a pale knight,¡± he added, his crimson eyes alight with seriousness as he stared at me. ¡°Or rather, the Pale Knight. The bandits who hound your realm no longer do so out of petty opportunism. They follow the directions of a single voice. One which almost every knight here dreams to slay, for this foe is legend. A shade, perhaps, who appears in the blackest pages of history.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me? Did you say that a ¡­ a thing in the guise of a knight is now bringing terror to my kingdom?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes. And that is why so many have come to claim the accolades which come with his head. A brave notion, but one I fear is foolish. The Pale Knight is a harbinger of darkness. And in all the tomes his name is written, it is said that where he goes, pestilence and doom follows.¡±


    I turned to the receptionist. She nodded.


    ¡°Details with the guild are sparse ¡­ but I can confirm multiple 1st hand sightings of a figure matching the historical description of the Pale Knight, as well as an ability to come and go with an unnatural mist.¡±


    I was aghast.


    I¡¯d come here to calm a peasant revolt ¡­ and now I was being told that there was some ¡­ unholy spectre wrapped in a foul legend had come to my kingdom!


    Why ¡­ if I¡¯d known that, I wouldn¡¯t have worried!


    Ohohohohohohohohoho!


    H-How wonderful!


    A horrific creature from the shadowy depths was now here!


    That was ¡­ That was marvellous!


    It meant I now had someone to blame!!


    ¡°I see,¡± I said, nodding profusely. ¡°As expected, any stirring up of the masses is no coincidence. That is simply awful¨Cand I intend for them and nobody in a position of current power to be held accountable. Thank you for telling me this, Sir Minotaur. Is this what brings you to the Kingdom of Tirea?¡±


    ¡°It is not,¡± he replied with a mournful shake of his head. ¡°While I would slay any villain who claims the mantle of the Pale Knight were they to appear before me, that is not my cause for being here.¡±


    The minotaur removed his helmet and held it by his side.


    ¡°I am Sir Arthur Tranlingway, Knight of the Order of Fortitude. By the Minotaur¡¯s Code, I am charged with a sacred quest. And although what I seek is different to every knight here, the path of justice we walk is the same. I believe I have information regarding this spectre to offer the Adventurer¡¯s Guild.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°My, is that so? Then perhaps we might be able to assist one another! I do not know anything regarding what this ¡­ shade who haunts my kingdom is, but I would value any information to put it to rest.¡±


    ¡°That is reassuring to hear. And would you be in a position to offer assistance in return, brave maiden?¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡± I placed my hand atop my chest and smiled. ¡°What is the nature of your sacred quest?¡±


    The minotaur, Sir Arthur Tranlingway, wore a sombre expression as his shoulders dropped.


    ¡°It is one of personal retribution. My younger brother was assailed in this kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Truly? That is awful! What happened?¡±


    ¡°The details are ¡­ fragile. However, I know for certain he was assailed outside the royal capital of Reitzlake. He was showcasing his labyrinths at the time when he was cruelly set upon. He recalls being sent through the air at great speed. Would you know anything about this particular incident?¡±


    The minotaur silently blinked down at us.


    Coppelia and I looked at each other.


    ¡°No,¡± we said.

 Chapter 356: Sweet Premonitions

    The minotaur¡¯s heavy footsteps padded alongside Apple¡¯s trotting.


    Boasting a powerful frame, he was a presence as impressive as he was useful.


    Indeed, with his silver armour and gleaming greatsword to capture the attention of my knights and Coppelia¡¯s smile to cause the peasants to shuffle away, little hindered us as we made our way across the Wessin Bridge and over the wide river below.


    Where our destination was, I didn¡¯t know. Only that it was one the minotaur preferred to say where his naturally baritone voice wouldn¡¯t be overheard.


    Naturally, I was stunned.


    The fact that discretion was known to a knight was more striking to me than any flamboyant manoeuvre they could accomplish with a hair comb.


    Especially as he was currently applying it with regards to my royal identity.


    ¡°It¡¯s envious to see an adventurer so young,¡± said the minotaur with an approving nod. ¡°My horns were fully grown by the time I was even allowed to consider swinging my first sword as a squire. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild does not exist in my homeland to offer a different opportunity, you see.¡±


    I offered a polite smile.


    So polite, in fact, that only the many competing responses shoving each other out of the way caused me to continue smiling.


    ¡°Is that so? Goodness. How fortunate that the plague has yet to reach the Spiral Isle.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°The plague of ill deeds which threatens this kingdom, I mean. Indeed, it¡¯s most fortunate that adventurers are not required to fill up your bars, for the presence of knights is all that¡¯s required.¡±


    The minotaur chuckled.


    ¡°True. Although my brothers-in-arms seek ever to further their fame, I fear that nothing will quite outdo their reputation for being excellent customers. Even so, I dare say we fall short compared to the knights of this realm.¡±


    A knight rose from his little heap of spilled cups in answer.


    He took off his helmet and offered a nod as we passed, never once realising that the helmet in question was simply a bucket still with laundry inside. A dotted ladies frock covered his eyes.


    I pursed my lips.


    ¡°In that case, perhaps the Spiral Isle could consider a cultural exchange? I¡¯m certain there¡¯s much the knights here could learn ¡­ immediately, if possible.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s little we could teach them. The wording in our vows may differ, but the path we walk is the same. Sadly, this also includes being stumped by the same obstacles. If anything, I believe we could all learn from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild instead.¡±


    ¡°I see. That sounds terrible.¡±


    ¡°... Hm?¡±


    ¡°A terrible way to spend your valuable time instead of performing noble deeds, I mean. Adventurers and knights are considerably different. One loyally serves the realm and one loyally serves their desires to wade in pits of mud.¡±


    The minotaur blinked at me.


    ¡°Is ¡­ Is that so? Well, we all have our own wishes. And I¡¯m not one to judge.¡±


    ¡°You should. Mud doesn¡¯t deserve to be disturbed by the boots of adventurers.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m certain the mud is forgiving. All the more so since the boots are worn by those who are rightfully admired. I must say, I¡¯m deeply impressed. To endeavour yourself towards the pursuit of justice at your age is a most noble thing. I see you must make a fine adventurer.¡±


    I offered a courteous nod in the form of a violent shake of my head.


    It was the least I could do for his performance, after all.


    Despite being masterfully incognito, it was a given that such close proximity to my regal aura meant this knight doubtless knew who I was. Even so, he was proving as discreet as he was polite.


    Why, not only had he resisted begging me for my blessing as was the traditional greeting, but he¡¯d also spared my ears any boasts concerning his deeds or his breakfast to me. That was unprecedented.


    In fact, all he spoke about was his admiration for adventurers.


    Relentlessly.


    Indeed ¡­ the way he enthusiastically queried me about the functions of the guild I proudly didn¡¯t know about, it was almost as though he truly believed I considered myself part of that shameful organisation.


    ¡­ Something which needed amending in the tiny chance this was genuine.


    ¡°My status as an adventurer is a temporary arrangement,¡± I said, my tone clear on the matter. ¡°Rest assured, there¡¯s a reason for all things other than the invention of the glazed carrot. That includes why a delicate maiden would embark on such an unfitting path.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And, uh ¡­ what would that be?¡±


    ¡°Pride, naturally. My kingdom is imperilled. I cannot stand idly by while the shadows seek ever to encroach upon its fair fields.¡±


    The minotaur nodded.


    ¡°Pride runs both ways. Although it is often a precursor to foolhardiness, so too is it a courage stronger than any drink. Sadly, I fear that it will take more than zeal to see these shadows undone, or else these proud knights would have already found the rogues who tarnish your land.¡±


    I looked around at the proud knights in question.


    Unlike the purposeful discretion offered by the minotaur, the silence my knights afforded me was due to a haze of drunken stupor. To them, I was simply an incredibly beautiful maiden with multiple noses. And that meant Apple was on snorting duty whenever one wandered too close.


    I patted his mane. He needed extra premium apples for this extra workload.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°A sad inflexibility,¡± I said diplomatically. ¡°That knights strive to meet their opponents in honourable combat doesn¡¯t mean that others will meet them in turn.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. Hence the reason I sought the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Your reputation to achieve tasks in ways that are deemed inventive is legendary.¡±


    Ugh.


    I rolled my eyes. The guild may not have set up roots in every kingdom yet, but their propaganda had.


    ¡°Yes, well, when it comes to abducting cats, they will truly stop at nothing. But for threats such as a band of common ruffians and whatever ghoul seeks to lead them, what matters is sobriety and the ability to walk in a straight line. Fortunately, I also happen to be highly talented in all things.¡±


    ¡°Your ¡­ confidence is encouraging. Although I hope to see the outlaws who terrorise the people here banished, I look forward to any assistance in finding the dastardly rogues I seek. I believe I am close.¡±


    Coppelia loudly coughed.


    I nudged her with my foot.


    ¡°O-Ohohohoho! ¡­ Fear not, all who transgress within these borders will be apprehended. This is a kingdom of law, after all.¡±


    ¡°That is most encouraging to hear.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, here, laws are deeply respected and must be followed by all¨Cincluding visitors. This means that if anyone should break said laws, it is also perfectly within the right for those tasked with the kingdom¡¯s safekeeping to remove any lawbreakers.¡±


    ¡°Of course. While I seek personal retribution, I am no vigilante. My fury will not come at the expense of formal justice. Whatever this kingdom decides is appropriate as a punishment, I shall not begrudge.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°Oh, is that so? ¡­ Then that¡¯s excellent! The judges who preside over the courts here are most impartial and unlikely to be moved by somebody standing directly over their shoulder while tapping their feet.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I¡¯ve no doubt of that. Hence, I will simply wait my turn.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Once the villains who have dishonoured my younger brother are found, I will appropriately wait for the kingdom to enact its punishment before I deliver my own. As a questing knight, I¡¯m sensitive to the laws of other kingdoms. But that doesn¡¯t preclude us from following our own.¡±


    The minotaur nodded as he stared ahead.


    His gauntlets came together. The mailed knuckles clanged with enough force to wake a dozen sleeping louts just before they barrelled out of the way of Apple¡¯s coming.


    I offered a polite smile. As did Coppelia.


    ¡°Fwwwfffft.¡±


    Behind a coconut that she was sipping using a straw, all the while watching in shameless amusement.


    I hardly saw why.


    As far as my memories were concerned, two maidens were present while being accosted by a minotaur bandit. And only one of them had the arms of enchanted steel necessary to send them into flight.


    ¡°However, I believe my quest is near an end,¡± said the minotaur, his gauntlets falling to his side. ¡°I¡¯ve a promising source who can lift the veil. Soon, I hope to know who assailed my brother and who this shade wearing the name of a fallen knight truly is.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I see! Who might this source be? ¡­ And how accurate would you say they are regarding unsubstantiated and witnessless events which occurred several weeks in the past?¡±


    ¡°Quite accurate. Or so I¡¯m led to believe. After all, there are few shamans who are so famed despite having long abandoned their pursuit.¡±


    ¡°A ¡­ shaman?¡±


    ¡°A shaman, yes. A matron unique amongst humans. For it¡¯s said that she was taught by the spirit seers of orc clans. She can communicate with the earth itself, listening to the echoes of what once passed. It is for her that I came to the Wessin Bridge.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ all the while charitably considering how best to save Coppelia from a minotaur¡¯s disgruntlement.


    ¡°Is that so? A shaman. A deeply unofficial profession assumed by those who didn¡¯t have the talent to pass a mage exam. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re unlikely to receive the news you desire. There are many footsteps which happen upon the ground, each muddying the other.¡±


    ¡°True, but while my own wishes might go unanswered, I¡¯ve little doubt the matron can shed light regarding the outlaws. I believe she herself has been a victim to them.¡±


    Suddenly, a deep frown appeared on the minotaur¡¯s face. He gave a huff through his nose.


    ¡°I happened across the scene myself. Upon arriving at the Wessin Bridge, I sought the matron out, hoping she would see me even in the night. I saw instead figures of ill-repute exiting her door.¡±


    ¡°For those visiting a shaman in the night, I would expect nothing less.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. But the matron no longer advertises her services. She¡¯s since taken up a more ordinary business. And that invites ordinary burglars. I recognised them just from their movements. Naturally, they scarpered without thought to explain themselves.¡±


    I raised a brow in puzzlement.


    ¡°I see? Then you¡¯ve already spoken with this unqualified mage?¡±


    The minotaur shook head.


    ¡°With little success. For an elderly human to be burgled is a harrowing affair. She rejected my concern and closed her door before me. Yet I hope she may now be inclined to render aid.¡±


    ¡°These ruffians are bold, if they are committing something as brazen as robbery at the Wessin Bridge.¡±


    ¡°Boldness is their forte. But also foolishness. This Pale Knight has brought many brigands under his heel. And when one becomes the head, all must pay their dues. There¡¯s only so much gold to be found in the same barn.¡±


    The minotaur turned to me with an expectant nod.


    ¡°I hoped that the guild would be able to offer a soft touch. I fear that I¡¯m not the most subtle of speakers. I would therefore like you to make your own inquiries. If payment is needed, I can provide reimbursement. It will be worth it. I feel it in my horns.¡±


    I offered the coin purse by his side the look of pity it deserved.


    After all, I had my well-placed doubts regarding the validity of any directions given by strange women in huts. Moreover, if anyone was capable of discerning who was behind the ire of my farmers, then they¡¯d almost certainly have been approached already.


    But then again ¡­ he could feel something in his horns!


    Perhaps that was like when a princess felt something upon the back of her neck when a loyal handmaiden was reaching for the saddlebag containing the premium apples?


    ¡°... Very well,¡± I said, offering a polite smile as I shooed Coppelia¡¯s hand away. ¡°If your horns say so, then who am I to disregard such a premonition?¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I offer my appreciation for your time. The matron¡¯s shop isn¡¯t far.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. Is it the first ominous hut that I see?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not an ominous hut. It¡¯s a shop.¡± The minotaur pointed ahead. ¡°It¡¯s small, but colourful. I believe she sells confectionery.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It is a bakery of some description. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not versed enough in the products I saw to know what they are, but they appeared artisan. For anyone to disregard their magic training to undertake such a new and radical business must mean they¡¯re quite proficient.¡±


    I nodded.


    Then, I peered around me as I realised we¡¯d crossed into the half of my kingdom which wasn¡¯t blocked by drunkards. And that meant one thing.


    There was now cake.


    ¡°... H-How dare these ruffians accost my people! The suffering and harm they¡¯ve endured shall not go unanswered! Come, we must leave no stone unturned!¡±


    My hands began shaking Apple¡¯s reins.


    They stopped only a moment later. And it had nothing to do with wanting to hop off Apple because Coppelia was now skipping merrily ahead without me.


    No ¡­ rather, it was because there was something familiar in the air.


    A warming aroma which tickled my memory like the grass of a spring afternoon not unlike this one. Except that rather than being starved of essential nutrients, I was drowning in it.


    After all, Florella was known for many things.


    Her adherence to sensible portion sizes wasn¡¯t one of them.


    When given command of a kitchen, she could make even a 13 layer cake look miniature in comparison to the mountains she could craft. Especially when they were her infamous 5 ingredient secret love stuffed knuckle-shaped ¡®la misericordia final¡¯ chouquettes, each loose pastry threatening to trigger a landslide upon me.


    A strange thing, then ¡­ as well as mildly horrifying.


    Because unless I was mistaken, that was very much what was now wafting through the air.

 Chapter 357: Trading Standards

    I swallowed the aroma as I took in the sight around me.


    Wooden shelves stacked with drying pastries. Tables overflowing with slightly burned bread rolls. Piles of cupcakes all slightly squished. And a sign which proudly hung off-centre behind the counter.


    Auntie Hilda¡¯s Bakery.


    It was much too dim, much too small and much too disorganised.


    In short, a completely ordinary bakery.


    And that ¡­ that was wonderful!


    Ohohohohohoho!


    Dough rising in an oven! Sugar caramelising in a pot! Ginger fighting against honey and cloves!


    No longer was I met with a lingering cold scent and meek apologies!


    Instead, all the shelves around me were filled with a passable selection of everything a princess needed to survive ¡­ and this meant I could afford a smile!


    Indeed!


    Croissants, rolls and strudels all sat waiting for my judging eye!


    True, the fact that there wasn¡¯t a member of staff constantly sweeping up bits of crumbling pastry was already a poor sign ¡­ but the fact there was anything to judge at all meant that all was well in the world.


    Yes, even if the world consisted of a rather cramped bakery.


    Frankly, it was abundantly clear why a minotaur wouldn¡¯t be allowed to browse inside. His horns would have simply poked through the ceiling, to say nothing of his sword accidentally swiping the mounds of cupcakes away.


    Luckily, he now had a far more important task.


    Standing outside and looking imposing. He was doing splendidly. Only his shadow entered through the tiny window, and that meant no disturbances as I studied the most unexpected of sights.


    There, stacked upon a large platter upon the counter, was unmistakably Florella¡¯s original La Misericordia Final chouquettes.


    I recognised them at once.


    The bright dusting of green tea powder. The aroma of vanilla. The lure of custard and buttercream. And also the promise of extraordinary bitterness.


    Yes.


    These were not ordinary little balls of pastries.


    Rather, they were an experiment which had set the world of gastronomy alight. Because whereas ordinary chouquettes were little more than puffs of sugar pretending to be dough, hers invited a peek into the grim blackness of the abyss.


    After all, they came with an ingredient nobody else had ever dared try before¨C


    Quantifiable love.


    Otherwise known as a highly concentrated emulsion of raw coffee beans and optimism.


    They were a creation so infamous that the servants tasked with carrying them needed to wear gloves and goggles borrowed from Clarise¡¯s observatory. Even accidental contact was dangerous. For upon consumption, they were an astringent ball of destruction upon one¡¯s tongue.


    But only for the unprepared.


    Once the feverish hallucination and choking had come to an end, what eventually came was a soothing ocean of delight. A caress of sugar, eggs and milk from the velvety custard to help ease away the relentless darkness of raw coffee, until all that was left was an inexplicable desire for more.


    Of course, to most, it was simply far too unyielding.


    Given that the recipe was highly complex too, I was stunned to find such a thing being sold outside.


    Indeed ¡­ this could mean only one thing!


    Yes ¡­ the standards of common bakeries were finally rising!


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°Ohhohohohoho ¡­ how wondrous! Coppelia, do you see these little pastries?!¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ I smell them too! There¡¯s something weird going on.¡±


    ¡°Not at all! On the contrary, for the common people to emulate my family is the most ordinary thing there is!¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    I smiled brightly and pointed.


    ¡°Why, these are unmistakably the famed work of my eldest sister! That her original creation has managed to extend to even a tiny bakery is a measure of the people¡¯s respect for her! ¡­ Goodness, I had no idea the recipe had even been shared!¡±


    ¡°Ooh~ does that mean it¡¯s dangerous?¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me! Why would you assume anything made by my family is dangerous?¡±


    ¡°... Is it?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s a very bold flavour.¡±


    ¡°Okay. So it¡¯s like a 7 on the cursed chart?¡±


    ¡°It is not cursed. It is blessed. Just like everything touched by the diligent hands of my family.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an 8, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Initial impressions might be an 8, yes,¡± I conceded. ¡°However, that¡¯s merely an indication of its complexity. These chouquettes are quite famous after the function they were first introduced. Half the guests went from finalising their wills to plucking extras with their fingers. That¡¯s the sort of effect they have.¡±


    Coppelia raised an arm enthusiastically.


    ¡°I want to try!¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I offered a bright smile at her enthusiasm. And maybe her blissful ignorance too.


    Naturally, it was also my duty to share in whatever momentary discomfort she felt. Although I didn¡¯t expect anything that was crudely emulated to compare with my sister¡¯s work, it was only right that I encourage the common bakeries of my kingdom to strive for higher standards.


    Thus, I patiently waited for the proprietor¨Call the while stretching over the counter and waving.


    A moment later, an elderly lady rewarded my subtlety.


    Appearing from the kitchen, she was the very picture of a kindly auntie.


    With a bun of grey hair, a melodic hum at her lips and a warm smile, she looked more likely to give away her pastries than sell them. Instead, she swiftly made her way over to the counter, paying no heed to her apron covered with enough flour to restock all of the shelves.


    Her eyes were a veritable fountain of life. Likely since we were her only customers.


    ¡°Goodness me,¡± she said with a joyful tone. ¡°I see the bell above the door has fallen off again. Apologies, apologies. I hope I didn¡¯t keep you waiting. What would you like, my dears?¡±


    I pointed at the mound of chouquettes.


    ¡°Salutations. I¡¯d like to inquire about how you came about this recipe.¡±


    The elderly auntie gave a good-hearted laugh.


    I smiled and waited.


    ¡°... Oh, you do?¡± she said, clearing her throat momentarily. ¡°Well, in that case, I suppose you can call it a flash of inspiration. The recipe came to me in a dream.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°A dream?¡±


    I was shocked.


    Why ¡­ to think that Florella had such powers as to deliver baking recipes through dream delivery! As expected of my sister, she was truly capable!


    ¡°Indeed, my dear.¡± The auntie smiled. ¡°It¡¯s been a good few years since I¡¯ve had one of them. But each time I do, I¡¯m guaranteed a new favourite. Have you heard of these, then? They¡¯re my best sellers. It¡¯s a slow day, what with the trouble outside. But usually, I get quite a few in just for them.¡±


    I nodded towards the green powdered chouquettes.


    ¡°I see. I¡¯d expect nothing less. They certainly appear normal.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope they also taste normal. Why not have a try now? A free sample.¡±


    ¡°Truly? How very generous!¡± I beamed, immediately poking Coppelia¡¯s hand away as she reached for the entire mound to sample. ¡°... But before I do, I have an additional query to make.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s regarding the ruffians who plague this town.¡±


    The auntie blinked at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain if I can help with that. All my customers are excellent.¡±


    ¡°Even those who trouble you in the night?¡±


    She paused.


    A moment later, her eyes wandered to the shadow blocking the window. Her smile turned to one of apology.


    ¡°Ah. The concerned gentleman from the previous night ¡­ I¡¯m uncertain what he¡¯s told you, but I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s been a terrible misunderstanding. I had my nephews visiting me, and rascals though they are, I wouldn¡¯t quite call them ruffians yet. I should offer the minotaur an apology. He rather startled me¨Cand I dare say my younger family too.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? I¡¯m certain he¡¯ll be relieved to hear that. Yet perhaps you can still assist. I¡¯m told you can discern the identity of whichever ghoul is disrupting your business by using ¡­ unique magic.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade.


    However, the energy from her eyes did. Her shoulders drooped as she let out a sigh she¡¯d doubtless made countless times before.


    ¡°I see the rumours continue to follow me, no matter how many cakes I sell ¡­ however, I¡¯m afraid I must disappoint you as well. It¡¯s true I once dabbled in spirit walking. But that was long ago. These days, I can¡¯t even call a spark to my finger. I¡¯ve a new life now. Not as a shaman, but as a baker.¡±


    ¡°Hm. It seems a remarkably different life.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± She nodded furtively. ¡°But we all grow and change. Myself as well. Magic is a dangerous gift, you see, and I¡¯m happy not to need it to see my customers smile. I apologise, my dear, but I¡¯m unable to offer my past services.¡±


    I nodded, neither surprised nor disappointed.


    After all, I only came to bakeries for one reason. And that was to replenish our critical provisions. If they also became a source of information, that¡¯d simply distract from the more important task.


    ¡°Understandable.¡± I plucked the topmost pastry from the chouquette mound. ¡°Thank you for your time. I¡¯d like to purchase a large stock of hazelnut croissants, apple strudels and cinnamon rolls.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s back straightened all of 1 degree


    ¡°That I can help with. How many of each did you wish to buy? If needed, I¡¯m happy to bake more.¡±


    ¡°Realy? That¡¯s marvellous! In that case, I¡¯m going to ¡­ hmmmm?¡±


    ¡°... My dear?¡±


    A quizzical look came my way.


    It was nothing compared to my own.


    I stared at the chouquette I¡¯d raised in front of me. And then I continued to stare.


    Because although it looked the part, there was something peculiar beyond simply the stale texture. Something which even being left out to dry in a dimly lit bakery couldn¡¯t explain.


    Slowly, I nibbled on the very end ¡­ and then I nodded.


    Awful.


    Absolutely awful ¡­ but also amazing.


    The proportions of ingredients were all wrong. The bitterness was hardly present. The custard was stodgy. The vanilla was frail. The buttercream lacked both butter and cream. And the powdered green tea was clearly used for only decoration and not flavour.


    Altogether, it was bland, depressing, characterless ¡­ and also wonderful.


    I stared in shock at the filling.


    Indeed, it was the most forgettable and therefore ordinary pastry I¡¯d ever eaten from a common bakery ¡­ and yet instead of immediately dismissing it from my mind, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of immense satisfaction mixed with my disappointment.


    A bizarre sensation.


    Frankly, I didn¡¯t understand it in the slightest.


    Something was clearly wrong. And it wasn¡¯t my highly refined taste buds. I was a princess. I could name every poor quality ingredient used as well as which speck of dirt it¡¯d been sourced from within 15 paces of accuracy.


    However ¡­ even I couldn¡¯t discern what made my aversion swing wildly towards enjoyment.


    Why, it was almost intangible. An ingredient I couldn¡¯t note. Something beyond my palate. It was there and it wasn¡¯t. A thing of utterly no substance, separated from the rest of the pastry.


    And then¨C


    I gasped, stepping back as half a chouquette fell to the floor.


    ¡°... H-How dare you!¡± I said, my hands covering my mouth.


    ¡°My dear?¡±


    ¡°You ¡­ You have used magic to enhance the flavour!¡±


    All of a sudden, the auntie¡¯s eyes widened.


    She had no right to be stunned. That was entirely for me.


    After all, what she¡¯d done ¡­ was an unforgivable sin!


    To cheat, no, to disgrace her entire profession with magic was the lowest of the low! Those caught were instantly exiled into culinary obscurity! It was a heinous crime, for it did away with all the sweat required to make up 95% of the taste!


    ¡°My dear,¡± said the con artist much too quickly. ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what you just said. But I think you must be mistaken¨C¡±


    ¡°I most certainly am not!¡± I pointed to the ¡­ thing on the ground. ¡°You cannot fool me! This ¡­ This is atrocious! The first and doubtless worst imitation of a chouquette I¡¯ll ever suffer! No amount of false enjoyment can smother the lack of quality and expertise beneath!¡±


    A feigned look of horror met me.


    ¡°I¡¯m a baking professional! I¡¯ve been doing this for more years than I can count!¡±


    ¡°Well, it seems you don¡¯t count grams, either! But why should you when magic will make up the rest!¡±


    ¡°Perhaps ¡­ Perhaps there¡¯s an issue with the ingredients? It¡¯s been a difficult few days.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been longer for your customers, apparently. Why, all this time, they¡¯ve had no idea they¡¯ve been waffling down baked magic! That cannot possibly be healthy!¡±


    A pause met me.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing unhealthy about magic. It¡¯s perfectly natural.¡±


    ¡°So you admit you¡¯re using magic?!¡±


    ¡°I admit these chouquettes are my best sellers¨CI¡¯ve even won several awards for them!¡±


    ¡°Awards not overseen by me and are therefore invalid! This is inexcusable! Using magic to debase such a regal recipe is an act lower than what any bandit on a road could achieve ¡­ and neither me nor my loyal handmaiden will accept it!¡±


    I waited for Coppelia¡¯s huff of indignation.


    ¡°Omnomnomnomnomnomnomnom~¡±


    Instead, I turned in dismay to see a mound of fraudulent chouquettes vanishing into the void.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then returned to the equally stunned con artist.


    ¡°H-How dare you damage Coppelia¡¯s taste buds! They¡¯re already harmed beyond repair! That you would seek to do even more to them is unforgivable!¡±


    I waited for the apology.


    However, far from immediately straining to grovel, the fraud briefly wrinkled her nose. The smile she¡¯d worn returned as an impression even worse than her attempt at baking.


    ¡°My dear. I do believe you¡¯re mistaken. As I said, I can no longer cast magic.¡±


    ¡°Well, then I suppose there¡¯ll be no issue if I summon the nearest mage to investigate the possibility. I¡¯m certain one can be found in the garrison somewhere. Rest assured, if I¡¯m wrong, I shall offer full reparations.¡±


    Thus, I immediately turned for the door.


    Pwam.


    It closed with a shudder, followed by the sound of a lock being turned.


    I looked behind me to see a sparkle of magic upon the finger of an auntie who could apparently no longer cast magic.


    Her eyes narrowed at me, just before she clicked her tongue.


    ¡°... All right, you brat,¡± she said, the far more natural tone of an irate cat owner replacing the kindly voice from before. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


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


    ¡°Ohhohohoho! Most wonderful! Indeed, let¡¯s converse without the needless pantomime! Honesty is far better than classless deceit!¡±


    ¡°Fine. What is it you want? ¡­ Crowns?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But not from you. You may rejoice. I¡¯ve no wish to extort you. Only to see your scam revealed for all your customers to see.¡±


    ¡°This is my business. That would ruin it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible. You¡¯ve already done that. And I¡¯ve not a single idea why. Perhaps without the magic, your chouquettes would only be subpar in quality. There are worse ways to embarrass yourself. Such as this.¡±


    The fraud suddenly snorted. The spark of magic upon her fingertip failed to fade.


    ¡°Subpar isn¡¯t good enough,¡± she declared. ¡°Do you have any inkling how competitive the world of baking is, girl? It¡¯s more than sugar and spice. But blood enough to turn a street with far too many bakeries into a battlefield.¡±


    I leaned in and smiled. The auntie leaned back.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ do you think I don¡¯t know that?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the one who presides over those battlefields. My ratings break careers. As you shall now learn.¡±.


    ¡°... Who are you, girl?¡±


    A frown filled my eyes. I offered a pleasant smile.


    ¡°Why, I¡¯m the most impartial judge you¡¯ll ever meet. And you¡¯ve now scored a -1/10. My congratulations. This is an exceedingly rare score. Frankly, with such an overwhelming lack of talent, you should have remained a roadside conjurer or whatever you were before.¡±


    A look of puzzlement flickered across the swindler¡¯s face.


    Then, her eyes glanced towards the copper ring disgracing my hand.


    The reaction was immediate. She lowered her arms, then with a loud clank, she drew out a crooked staff from behind the counter. Taller than she was and grimmer than the wrinkles on her face, it boasted a gemstone of black opal swirling with living magic.


    ¡°What I was before was the same as now,¡± she said proudly. ¡°Except with a few extra titles. I was Matron Hilda of the Barren Waste. It was I who seized the secrets of the earth from the spirit walkers. And it was I who brought the storm to them. You¡¯re extremely foolish to call me out of retirement, adventurer.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I hardly see why. Now you can cast your magic freely. Perhaps if you use every speck you possess, you can conjure an actual baker to do your job for you.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s nostrils flared.


    A moment later, her staff burst into crackling black flames.

 Chapter 358: Sugar And Spice

    All I wanted was a shortcake.


    This wasn¡¯t difficult. On the contrary, it was the easiest thing in the world. The recipe was public knowledge. All it required were eggs, butter, sugar and a click of my fingers.


    No matter where I was or what I was doing, I was guaranteed to turn around to the sight of a freshly baked strawberry shortcake held up by a servant with leaves in their hair from whatever shrub they were diligently hiding in.


    Still, I suppose this was my fault.


    I¡¯d skipped over the important step of clicking my fingers, after all.


    As a result, all I received instead were a platter of counterfeit chouquettes, a cat meowing tauntingly somewhere in the distance and an auntie who¡¯d clearly had enough of entertaining her nieces and nephews.


    Before me, a black staff rose as high as the swindler who wielded it.


    Wild flames covered its crooked form, and yet far from illuminating the dim bakery, it only blanketed it in fresh shadows. The sinister hue of the flames absorbed the light around it.


    Only the grim smile of an auntie with utterly no professional standards could be seen.


    ¡°Really now?¡± I asked, utterly unimpressed. ¡°Are you about to set your bakery alight? If so, I''m more than happy to observe your repentance. From a distance. While laughing.¡±


    Clank.


    The staff struck against the ground.


    Lashes of black embers flew in every direction. I blew a few of them away.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere, child.¡±


    ¡°Well, I''m not going to go far. Rest assured, you¡¯ll be able to hear my laughter as well as everybody else¡¯s. Your bakery turning into a bonfire will be a community event.¡±


    A snort answered, matched by a flickering of dark flames.


    ¡°Do you think I care if this bakery burns?¡± she said with a flick of her wrist. ¡°It is meaningless to me. With my reputation, it¡¯d provoke nothing but a cry of sympathy. Poor Auntie Hilda. The sweet lady who manages to feed half the yobs in the kingdom. I¡¯ve been meaning to build a better shop. Maybe I¡¯ll even have it in Reitzlake.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ all the while raising my hand to my lips.


    ¡°Ohohohohohoho!!¡±


    A look of utter grief met my sweet laugh. And no wonder.


    Off to the side, a certain clockwork doll was diligently gathering evidence of her crimes.


    Fulfilling her duties to the letter, Coppelia was leaving no corner unturned, beaming while idly stuffing croissants, strudels and rolls into a thatched basket, her pouch and her mouth.


    Naturally, I was deeply moved. That she¡¯d volunteer to take responsibility for all the poor quality provisions in order to purposefully leave the passable ones for me was a sacrifice I could only accept.


    Especially if it served to outrage the proprietor even more.


    ¡°Your eyes must be worse than mine, child,¡± she said, doing her best to ignore Coppelia¡¯s casual ransacking. ¡°Don¡¯t you see the magic pouring forth before you? I can use it to turn your ashes into the first brick of my new store.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ My, how wonderful. I¡¯ve always been known for my charity. I¡¯m certain my ashes would help draw a record number of customers. It certainly won¡¯t be for your lack of talent.¡±


    ¡°Talent is the ability to make a living beside this rotting bridge.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°Excuse me! This beautiful bridge is a feat of expert craftsmanship and a major source of taxation.¡±


    ¡°It is ugly. And the hour I move to Reitzlake, I¡¯ll forget about the moss which haunts my balcony view.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll be replacing moss with the sight of scoffing customers as they pass you for a rival. Frankly, you wouldn¡¯t survive a day in the royal capital. No matter how much butter you douse your hopes in, you cannot wash away the odour of amateurism.¡±


    The staff practically ignited as the end clanked against the floor.


    Just once more and this bakery could be replaced by something useful instead.


    ¡°There¡¯s no definition in which I¡¯m an amateur! I¡¯ve been baking professionally for 37 years now!¡±


    ¡°Well, perhaps you should have spent 5 minutes realising you¡¯d earn more crowns plying your trade as a roadside mage. That¡¯s apparently where your talents lie.¡±


    A laugh of derision filled the air.


    ¡°Oh, how little you know,¡± said the unscrupulous auntie, her every wrinkle practically shining. ¡°You think that just because my prices are cheap that my magic is as well. Yet I didn¡¯t learn to conjure bouquets like those wretches at the Royal Academy. The magic I mastered was of earth and storm. And the day I chose to become a simple baker was the day the world sighed in relief. I graciously opted to walk the path of peace. Your lack of respect is encouraging me back towards the joy of destruction.¡±


    A spark of energy lashed out from the top of her staff.


    It was followed by tiny streaks of lightning arcing within the surrounding flames like a wild thunderstorm. But only for a moment. The magic soon diminished, a dim light returning to the bakery alongside a kindly smile more feigned than any pastry here.


    ¡°... But Auntie Hilda isn¡¯t known as a soft touch for nothing,¡± she said, her tone warming. ¡°So I¡¯ll make you the best deal today, my dear. Tell me exactly how you realised there was magic in my wonderful chouquettes, and in return, I¡¯ll tell you something just as useful in return.¡±


    I was appalled ¡­ mostly at Coppelia¡¯s choice to prioritise ¨¦clairs over profiteroles. One was clearly more suitable for use as a throwing weapon than the other.


    ¡°And what would that be, exactly? Hindsight regarding your poorly made life choices?¡±


    The smiling auntie wrinkled her nose.


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll tell you all about my nephews. And then we can both pretend this conversation never happened. After all, I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll be far more interested in sharing my information with the guild than bothering to stay and disturb my innocent business.¡±


    My mouth widened in disbelief.


    Why ¡­ the shamelessness with which she lied was one thing! But the fact she felt she needed to do it at all was the most disgraceful thing here! What was the point of growing wrinkles if not to unilaterally make demands of the young?


    If Grandmother saw this, she¡¯d be livid!


    ¡°I see. So your visitors in the night weren¡¯t burglars but associates. As expected, those of ill repute flock together like mice to a common inn ceiling. I¡¯ll therefore make you a better offer.¡±


    ¡°There is no better offer, child. None of the dimwits the guards capture can tell you about the horror which truly lurks in the shadows. Only I have that information.¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Wonderful. So it¡¯s either a ghoul or an overgrown badger. In that case, simply point me in the correct direction and I¡¯ll excuse you from soap making in return.¡±


    ¡°Soap making ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Soap making.¡± I nodded with pride. ¡°It¡¯s the universal gift of kindness. But for you, the blackness can only be cleansed through learning proper baking techniques. Once you¡¯ve revealed where the ruffians who incite my farmers into drinking during working hours are, I¡¯ll allow you to enrol in a baking course until you can create a single item I deem passable. This is extremely generous.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s smile hardened.


    ¡°... My dear, professionalism compels you to accept my considerably more balanced offer. There is something terrifying out there in the woods. The night is darker than you can ever imagine. And I¡¯d be willing to tell you for nothing other than a fair exchange of words.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and are these words during or after trying to burn me like the egg wash on your brioches?¡±


    The smile faded entirely.


    Fwoooosh.


    A moment later, the black staff rose high as blackened flames engulfed it once again.


    ¡°I offered you a chance,¡± she said, her brows a single crease. ¡°A pity. You should listen to your elders. My shadow stretches over any simple mage you could have awoken. Do not be fooled by my humble profession, for I am the shah of nature¡¯s most primal elements. I am the mistress who tamed that which cannot be controlled. I quelled the wrath of the world itself when I was but a child. And now I wield it for myself as a ringmaster commands a whip. Behold, child, and see the truth of my black flames and view what even the masters of the storm feared. In my staff is a blablablabla¨C¡±


    Ughhhhhhh.


    I rolled my eyes and despaired.


    It was going to be one of those, wasn¡¯t it? Just one drop of magic and suddenly a simple fireball wasn¡¯t enough. It had to come with a personal backstory.


    Sadly for this particular mage, shaman or circus act, my ears had long fulfilled that quota. And so as a fresh array of flames began to dance around her crooked staff, I drew Starlight Grace ¡­ and then suddenly blinked as a small knife flew towards me.


    Clink.


    I instinctively whacked it away.


    A moment later, I simply stared at the fallen knife ¡­ as did the wide-eyed auntie who¡¯d thrown it.


    Still with her staff raised high and swirling with dark flames, she simply stood dumbfounded, her throwing arm outstretched in a pose of a failed assassin.


    My mouth widened.


    ¡°Excuse me ¡­ but did you just attempt to murder me in the middle of your own opening speech?¡±


    She blinked without response.


    Nearby, Coppelia was covering her mouth, a rare look of horror upon her face. And for good reason.


    Whether in the Fabled Realm of Ouzelia or the Kingdom of Tirea ¡­ traditions were respected!


    This woman ¡­ how dare she use her own mundane speech in order to try to murder me!


    The utter lack of chivalry! That was something I did! Not the people gloating at me!


    Why ¡­ not only was it an affront to decorum utterly without precedent, but she couldn¡¯t even do it right! That knife was so feebly thrown that even a child could have slapped it away!


    ¡°... Hm?¡± The auntie gave a meek cough, her back suddenly stooping as an extra decade of age suddenly weighed down upon her. ¡°What did you say? My ¡­ My ears aren¡¯t as good as they used to be.¡±


    I pointed furiously at the knife.


    ¡°You ¡­ You were just boasting about your unparalleled control over the elements! ¡­ And then you threw that instead!¡±


    The fraud followed the line of my fingertip.


    Only then did she slowly lower her throwing arm.


    ¡°... Well done, child,¡± she said, a forced smile following a pause. ¡°In truth, I¡¯d hoped to not see my bakery destroyed. It holds many fond memories.¡±


    ¡°You were just talking about deliberately burning it down!¡±


    ¡°Yes, but words and actions are often different. I merely wished to instil a life lesson before you died.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a lesson! Nobody ¡­ Nobody else would do such a thing! Do you have the slightest idea how long people wait to do a cackling speech against me? That¡¯s the greatest highlight of any schemer¡¯s life! It¡¯s the memory those banished to crafting soap on an island devoid of hope or warmth cling to! ¡­ How dare you insult their effort!¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand. I simply saw no need to expend my magic to simply do away with one surprisingly observant adventurer. But I see now it¡¯s unwise for me to hold back.¡±


    Fwoooosh.


    Once again, the crooked staff rose amidst a sweep of black flames.


    Black flames, which despite their impressive appearance, weren''t quite melting the air in the same way that similarly powerful flames cast by those in scandalous undergarments did.


    ¡°Very well, child. I will show you a passing glimpse of my magic. Although in truth, even that is too much. The oceans and mountains bend to my will, enough that the masters before me each conspired to see me banished. For threatening my reputation, I will allow it to be the last sight you see¨C¡±


    Suddenly, a dazzling array of light burst forth from the tip of the staff. Like a rainbow forced into a tiny box and then unleashed all at once, the darkness was dispelled to a blinding light.


    I wasn¡¯t watching.


    Instead, my eyes were on the auntie¡¯s hand as it disappeared behind the counter ¡­ only to reappear with a loaded crossbow.


    Twang.


    Specifically, a crossbow with strings so loose that the bolt came with all the speed of a dying snail.


    It easily broke in half against Starlight Grace¡¯s waiting edge. And yet as the two newly made pieces fell, it was all I could do to stop my jaw from striking the floor along with them.


    An attack in the middle of her own threatening monologue.


    Not once. But twice.


    And this time with a weapon so poorly maintained that the greatest shock was that it could even work.


    To say I was appalled would be wrong. I was incensed.


    ¡°Excuse me?!¡± I threw up my arms in utter disbelief. ¡°You have a staff right there! It¡¯s even glowing! Why are you trying to murder me so underhandedly?! Simply throw a fireball!¡±


    The most ineffectual rogue I¡¯d ever met gawped.


    Her widened eyes stared between me and her crossbow, as though that it would somehow mount a defence for her. It didn¡¯t.


    I let out a gasp.


    ¡°You ¡­ You can¡¯t, can you? ¡­ You are a double fraud! Is enchanting pieces of bread all you can do?! Is anything you claimed true?!¡±


    I waited for the response.


    Eventually, a far more subdued auntie lowered her staff. The crossbow slid from her other hand.


    ¡°I did meet a shaman once,¡± she said stoically.


    ¡°Is that it?!¡±


    ¡°No. I also watched him accidentally incinerate himself with a lightning bolt. I took his staff.¡±


    ¡°Can you use the staff?!¡±


    ¡°... I can make it channel minor illusions, yes. There are runes which perform the effect. I believe it¡¯s to enhance the aesthetics of any spell cast.¡±


    ¡°Well, I certainly hope there¡¯s a rune for summoning a mixing bowl! You¡¯re going to need it when undertaking your baking course on Soap Island!¡±


    The double swindler made no reply.


    Instead, she did what anybody else caught in her position would do.


    She pursed her lips, feigned a look of aloof pride ¡­ and then turned to flee.


    Betraying her vigour, she dismissed all notions of creaky knees to sprint at a pace to outdo every brigand she was doubtless associated with. But that wasn¡¯t all. As she dashed into her kitchen, she whacked her stolen staff against a table, then immediately tossed it high behind her.


    A white glow turning to crimson filled the core of the staff as it flew towards me.


    ¡°[Spring Breeze]!¡±


    As the staff was duly propelled back, all I heard was a brief cry of surprise before a failed mage dropped to the ground in a pose I was all too familiar with. I did the same, followed by Coppelia as she tossed away all the strudels in her basket to hide beneath that as well.


    Bwooomph!


    A moment later, I blew the flour away from my face as I gingerly rose.


    There, somewhere in a kitchen smothered by a blanket of white, was a groaning figure whose hands were still desperately shielding her head. A large shaft of sunlight from a newly made window above highlighted all the ingredients she¡¯d be collecting for her journey to redemption.


    Creeeeaaak.


    And then ¡­ a door opened behind me.


    The minotaur knight crouched just enough to allow his head to peek inside. A greatsword was in his hand, making the act of squeezing himself through a doorway even more problematic than it usually was.


    Eventually, he entered, stooping as low as he could.


    His wide eyes looked at the trembling auntie on the floor. At the newly installed window of a partially destroyed kitchen. At the sword in my hand. And then lastly at me.


    ¡°... By any chance, are you responsible for my younger brother being sent through the air?¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°No ¡­ ?¡±


    The minotaur stared at me.


    After a while, his gaze returned to the state of the bakery. And then he simply nodded.


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°... Okay, then.¡±

 Book 9 Is Now Available On Amazon!!

    </a>


    Hi there!


    Princess Knight Juliette has now joined the world of eBooks! It''s a scary world out there. Especially Ouzelia. Dragons and layabouts roam the dark corners. But so long as our princess is here, she will continue to ward them away like salt against dark spirits!


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Thank you so much for your support! If you''d like to help out more than you already do, feel free to drop the book a rating. It helps so much!


    Book 9: eBook</a>

 Chapter 359: The Road To Redemption

    Sir Arthur Tranlingway thought very highly of Reitzlake Cathedral.


    It was big.


    And that was good.


    Few places outside of the Spiral Isle were built with minotaurs in mind. Which was only fair. Most minotaurs were happy to stay exactly as they were.


    After all, the Spiral Isle was a tropical island famed for being a bastion of honour as well as the birthplace of the pineapple sorbet. And when everywhere else had fewer palm trees and much smaller doorways, it was only expected that few ever saw the need to leave its golden shores.


    The questing knights of the Spiral Isle made up most of them. But most didn¡¯t mean all. And so Sir Arthur had come to see one of those who¡¯d opted not to take the vow of knighthood.


    His greaves padded loudly against the stone floor.


    As he walked, sisters offered their nods.


    They were of different faiths, but the virtue they defended was the same. As a result, it was with utmost respect that Sir Arthur traversed the great hall, taking care not to disturb those praying at the pews.


    It was beautiful, if not quite as majestic as the cathedrals boasted by this kingdom¡¯s neighbours. And compared to the Great Temple Colosseum upon the summit of Mount Oros, it was little more than a village chapel.


    But for all the marble columns it lacked, it made up for in history.


    It was there upon the mosaic tiles upon the ceiling, the cracks upon the woodwork, and the pride upon the head sister¡¯s smile as she offered a bow just before the main altar.


    ¡°Greetings. Welcome to Reitzlake Cathedral. Home of the Holy Church in the Kingdom of Tirea.¡±


    The minotaur returned the bow.


    ¡°Thank you, sister. I apologise if I¡¯m disturbing you at this time.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing to disturb. We of the Holy Church never permit our doors to close. Our purpose is one of service. And to that we offer towards all who would walk amidst our halls. Do you require healing, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps tomorrow,¡± said Sir Arthur with an appreciative nod. ¡°But fortunately not yet.¡±


    He straightened his back.


    Suddenly, the calm expression he wore faded beneath a hue of concern.


    ¡°I am Sir Arthur Tranlingway, Knight of the Order of Fortitude. I received a letter informing me that my younger brother has been taken under your care. It mentioned that he¡¯d been pulled from a pond and was currently recuperating.¡±


    To his surprise, the sister clapped her hands in joy. A fresh bloom of warmth appeared on her cheeks beside her smile.


    ¡°Ah, I see! You must be here for Brother Henry!¡±


    Sir Arthur blinked, momentarily puzzled by the odd phrasing to refer to his own sibling.


    Regardless, he nodded while swallowing the many queries he had. Although he knew the sister could answer, he wished to hear them from the lips of his brother first.


    At least until he was forced to ask for a more accurate account.


    ¡°Indeed, I am. There¡¯s much I wish to thank the Holy Church for. The compassion shown in aiding my family will not be forgotten. But for now, may I request to see him, provided it is possible?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± The sister gestured to the side. ¡°He can be found in the 5th annex. It¡¯s to the arched door to the left of those pillars. The smaller one of the two. You may enter without knocking.¡±


    The minotaur offered another bow.


    ¡°Thank you, sister.¡±


    A moment later, he politely assumed a wide berth around those praying as he went to the door indicated.


    It opened with a gentle push, a tiny creak sounding as he entered a much more humble part of the cathedral. The light dimmed at once, the stained glass replaced with little more than slits in the walls. But although the musk of pews was not present here, the air of solemnity was no less.


    Especially given the studiousness of the only one praying.


    Sir Arthur Tranlingway¡¯s eyes could only widen.


    ¡°Henry ¡­ ?¡±


    Before him, a figure as large as himself rose from his kneeling position.


    The minotaur turned. And suddenly, Sir Arthur could only feel a cold wave of despair run through him.


    His younger brother was now wholly garbed in the attire of the Holy Church. A stretched robe was draped over him like a poorly fitting curtain, his arms lost in sleeves which cupped together in a pose of piousness.


    That could mean only one thing.


    He was up to no good.


    ¡°Henry!¡± Sir Arthur strolled forwards, exasperation in his steps as he threw his arms up. ¡°What is ¡­ What is the meaning of this?¡±


    Suddenly, all image of his calm exterior was lost amidst the pale shafts of light.


    He was mortified. Because the truth was that the Spiral Isle gave birth to more than just chivalry. There could be no valour without danger, no songs without silence and no knights without knaves ¡­ and his younger brother was sadly one of them.


    Far from taking up the path of a questing knight or even the tour advisors which were always in demand in their homeland, he¡¯d instead left to embark on his own misadventures. To traverse without ambition other than to humour his whims.


    But this ¡­ this was too far.


    ¡°I cannot believe this! You have ¡­ You have falsely donned the robes of the Holy Church! This alone is something that would draw gasps, but that you would deceive the same ones who shielded you from the drunken mischief you fell into is beyond dishonour! How could you resort to such duplicity?¡±


    Sir Arthur was beside himself with grief.


    Whatever scheme he was seeing, there could be no justification ¡­ and yet instead of immediately dragging his younger brother back towards the Spiral Isle, he could only suddenly step back.


    Because what he received in return was a smile more shining than any he¡¯d ever known.


    ¡°Brother, there¡¯s no duplicity in this,¡± declared Henry, his eyes matching the vigour in his voice.


    Sir Arthur could barely stand.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He¡¯d been struck with every instrument known to minotaurs and humans, his armour now repaired more times than his horns had been waxed. But seeing his lax brother beaming with a fire in his soul was more shocking than any hammer or sword.


    ¡°... Henry! What is the meaning of this? I was told you¡¯d been pulled from a pond!¡±


    A good-natured chuckle met him in reply.


    ¡°You were told true. A most beautiful and harrowing experience that was. The moment I felt myself dragged upon the docks, I felt as though the hard wood was as soft as a wild meadow.¡±


    ¡°Then you may feel more of it elsewhere. I¡¯ve come to take you away, so you may do no more mischief.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Brother? And what an excellent choice that would¡¯ve been, had you but seen me mere weeks ago. For Henry Tranlingway was a rogue without redemption. A scoundrel without remorse. Who you see now is different. I am now Brother Henry. And I serve as an apprentice cleric of the Holy Church.¡±


    Sir Arthur gawked.


    Not because this was another one of his brother¡¯s wild schemes. But because he was being entirely genuine.


    ¡°You ¡­ You are being earnest, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I am, Brother. More so than I ever have in my life. And as you¡¯ve witnessed much of it, I must offer my apologies. But I hope to do more. I¡¯ve found my calling, much as you¡¯ve found yours. Perhaps now, I might even right the wrongs of my past.¡±


    Sir Arthur raised his arms in utter confusion.


    ¡°Henry ¡­ what happened? How did you find yourself in a pond? ¡­ Did you drink from it?¡±


    ¡°I did not.¡± A pause. ¡°... Well, no, I did. Lots. I distinctly remember spitting out some goldfish. It was deeply uncomfortable. But given the height that I fell, it was very much the least of my concerns.¡±


    ¡°You fell?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Brother. I fell. I fell like a newborn minotaur dropped by a stork. But other than the 11 broken ribs, the twisted shoulder and fractured pinky I suffered, no harm was done. On the contrary, far from losing anything, I found the missing part of me in the artificial trench I¡¯d created. A peace I¡¯d long been searching for.¡±


    Confusion and all the questions he didn¡¯t wish to ask flickered through Sir Arthur¡¯s mind.


    ¡­ All of them concerning just how drunk his brother was.


    ¡°Peace? What is this peace that you found? In all my memories, you¡¯ve never once cared for anything.¡±


    ¡°That is untrue. For I cared only for myself. I have changed now. I have found purpose. A reason to exist which called out to me in the darkness, guiding me from the depths of my own hubris.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. You were never a pious minotaur. Yet you speak as if you¡¯ve seen the light.¡±


    ¡°Seen it? ¡­ No, Brother. I have touched it.¡±


    The minotaur robed in the vestiges of a low ranking cleric raised a palm as though to gather the sparkling dust. He then curled it into a fist, triumphant and proud.


    ¡°I flew, Brother.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I flew. Like a dove soaring through the sky, the air lifting my arms. In that moment, I tasted infinity. A gasp of freedom further from the knowledge of minotaurs than dusk is to dawn. I witnessed all the world beneath me, and every petty want, squabble and desire was revealed to be smaller than a leaf upon the horizon. I saw everything as it was meant to be seen. A palette of colours richer than any brush could paint. Neither gold nor silver can compare to the rivers coursing amidst coasts and mountains as pure as snowdrops or the beaks of the migrating ducks as they flew alongside me. I was the lowest minotaur, yet I became the highest¨Cblessed when I should be cursed. The light enveloped me as I rose, and so too as I fell, lighting the goldfish pond like the warmth of Mother¡¯s watery porridge. Now even as I stand, I see the world in a different light. And I wish only to protect it.¡±


    A din followed, so silent that even the prayers from the great hall sounded as loud as a cacophony.


    All Sir Arthur could do was blink.


    ¡°How did you ¡­ fly?¡± he asked in all earnestness.


    Immediately, shame doused the smile upon his brother¡¯s face.


    ¡°I did wrong. I built a labyrinth outside Reitzlake. Afterwards, I extorted those who unknowingly entered into offering a handful of silver crowns to escape.¡±


    ¡°You did what?¡±


    Sir Arthur despaired.


    This was beyond misbehaving. It was simply law breaking.


    ¡°Yes, I was a fool with neither fear nor thought. So confident was I in my work, I never once considered that my actions would invoke a wrath as great as any storm.¡±


    ¡°You trapped the wrong person,¡± said Sir Arthur, groaning into his palm. ¡°Who was it? Some roaming champion? A famed mage? A dragon in disguise?¡±


    ¡°No. It was a small girl.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    A nod of seriousness was joined by a palm measuring out a height just below the waist.


    ¡°A small human girl. I believed her to be a wealthy traveller, and sought to entrap her like I did so many others. Yet for my folly, I feared it would be the end of me.¡±


    ¡°... She made you fly?¡±


    ¡°Yes. With her sword.¡±


    Sir Arthur¡¯s mouth widened. All the more so as his brother visibly shuddered.


    ¡°She hurled me, Brother. Like a twig cast by a catapult. At first, I saw her conjuring a darkness deeper than any labyrinth. A ball of doom which swallows all light like a cold flame consuming life. It was awful. I thought I saw the final calamity of our time. The key to unlocking the next Great Sundering. But as I flew, I realised it was but the shadow cast by the greatest light. The sun shone in my face as I soared. And I glimpsed the heavens smiling upon me. I now believe that girl to be a messenger of Lady Lumielle. For what she delivered to me was the road to redemption.¡±


    A quiet hum of satisfaction filled the air as a robed minotaur peered upwards, his smile as sure as the newly lit warmth in his eyes.


    Nothing else was said. But little else was needed.


    Sir Arthur finally understood.


    His brother ¡­ had gone utterly bonkers.


    Somehow, a human girl had managed to induce enough terror into a minotaur that he had become pious. And while he held hopes that such a thing was good for everyone, the idea that his own younger brother had been hurled through the air simply wasn¡¯t something he could ignore.


    Questions needed to be asked.


    He needed to find this girl. To assess the measure of her. To see what danger she posed. Because although he knew little of Lady Lumielle or her ways, he found it difficult to believe that her messengers were so combative.


    After all, if launching naysayers into the air was a regular practice, he imagined that the Holy Church would be considerably more revered in the Spiral Isle.


    ¡­. He was, of course, completely correct.


    Bwoooomph!


    Because several witches in huts, a mystic who was a toad and a shaman who turned out to be a fraud later, Sir Arthur Tranlingway¡¯s greaves accidentally squashed a fallen shop bell.


    Within a bakery far too small for his size, his eyes looked over the groaning figure of a lady covered in a dusting of flour and shame. The greatsword in his hand remained silent and stern, its sharp edge unneeded for the conversation ahead.


    Not even when he¡¯d found who he was searching for.


    A small human girl with a sword.


    And also an adventurer.


    Perhaps there were many like her in the Kingdom of Tirea. But Sir Arthur Tranlingway knew without a hint of doubt that she was responsible for allowing his younger brother to see the light.


    After all, he was a Knight of the Order of Fortitude.


    To be resolute was his calling. And to be rewarded for it was his due.


    There were few coincidences on the road. And even fewer when it concerned wind techniques as curious as what the girl had briefly displayed.


    But that wasn¡¯t all.


    There were flashes of martial ability beyond what his eyes could see. To parry a knife thrown at what was effectively lunging distance was highly impressive. Yet to deny a crossbow bolt at the same close range was absurd.


    She was clearly highly skilled and trained. Yet as he stared at the comparatively tiny girl, it was for more than her ability with a sword which caused him to take note.


    Although her frame was small, the shadow she cast was greater than those of his ancestors whose statues ringed the Great Temple Colosseum.


    It was, frankly, quite disconcerting ¡­ and also slightly frightening.


    But it was as his younger brother said.


    Shadows could not exist without light ¡­ and while there really wasn¡¯t much light shining upon her whatsoever, he had no doubt from the care she showed for the local people over the thought of cakes contaminated with harmful magic that there existed little room for wickedness in her heart.


    That¡¯s why¨C


    ¡°Oh ... okay, then.¡±


    Sir Arthur Tranlingway deemed his quest complete.


    His next would prove far more challenging, however.


    Using the opportunity the adventurer had granted, he¡¯d need to help liaise between his freshly redeemed brother at the Holy Church and the various heralds of the Great Pantheons.


    There was much conversation to be resumed and started anew. And although few ever spoke of the Kingdom of Tirea, he saw no reason why it couldn¡¯t prove an excellent host.


    In which case, he needed to pay a visit to the home of the kingdom¡¯s royalty as well.


    ¡­ Wherever that was.

 Chapter 360: A Princess’s Senses

    Apple snorted as the overgrown wheat tickled his sides.


    I nodded in agreement.


    This was no place for a princess. Or at least not while I wasn¡¯t sleeping through the ordeal.


    The last time I¡¯d ridden through a field of wheat, it was via the back of a royal carriage stuffed with so many cushions that opening the door had to be done with a stick.


    Despite Apple¡¯s valiant attempt at paving a new dirt road using just his hooves, he lacked the necessary weight to create infrastructure as he went. As a result, I saw with a heavy heart how sorely overdue my royal tour of the kingdom was.


    With Florella occupied in Trierport, Roland stuck in Reitzlake and Tristan based at the Loerstadt Gate, opportunities for our royal processions to improve the accessibility of our kingdom whenever we trundled through a barn were few and far between.


    It was only natural that my farmers were now pushed into voicing their complaints.


    After all, our carriages did more than leave a blackened trail of upturned dirt through their farms. It was both a badge of honour they could use to sell their products, as well as a warning to all would-be ruffians that my family were ever present.


    As such, I looked steadfastly ahead, tightly gripping Apple¡¯s reins while urging him onwards so that we may see to the plight of my people ¡­ especially since I was currently in mortal danger.


    Yes.


    There was a reason princesses only skipped through carefully curated meadows.


    Because if the wheat was high enough to magically dip into our footwear at every opportunity ¡­ then it was also high enough to hide the things which lived amongst them.


    Fwish.


    I pursed my lips, boldly ignoring the flash of a badger.


    Swish.


    I leaned away slightly, boldly ignoring the tail of a field mouse.


    Pwish.


    I huddled closer to Apple¡¯s back, boldly ignoring the ¡­ well, no, the fruit slime was acceptable. In fact, it looked like it was fleeing from the shambling corpse flower drooling at the edge of the field.


    Cautiously, I searched for any signs of hedgehogs.


    A moment later ¡­ I relaxed.


    Pwoosh!


    ¡°¨CHiee?!¡±


    Only to see a burst of wheat as a thing in the shape of Coppelia suddenly appeared.


    ¡°Look! I found a ruffian~¡±


    Her smile brighter than anything the late afternoon could hurl, she lifted her palms to reveal a squirrel lounging on her palm as it chewed on a sprig of leaves.


    I nodded at once.


    ¡°Indeed, you have. Squirrels are notorious for scratching at the bark of my apple trees.¡±


    ¡°Great! What should I do with it?¡±


    ¡°You may let it go. But with a stern reminder not to dig up private property. Especially mine. Besides, this isn¡¯t the ruffian we¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°Okie~¡±


    Coppelia gave a nod, then proceeded to toss the squirrel away without actually bothering to warn it. Even so, it bounded off into the distance to tell its friends of its near escape.


    It was a tale the hoodlums I¡¯d soon be sentencing with soap duties wouldn¡¯t enjoy ¡­ beginning with whatever pale miscreant was apparently leading them.


    Or as a fraudulent auntie called him¨Cthe monster in the darkness.


    Yes.


    Something foul was residing in my kingdom.


    A thing so malevolent that its presence could even be felt by a dishevelled baker, whose testimony just before being escorted away by a helpful minotaur was the news that something unseemly was now populating my nearby forests. A being of pure wickedness who¡¯d gathered all the unwanted hoodlums beneath a laughing banner.


    It was utterly shocking to me.


    After all, no matter how much I thought about it ¡­ this was truly the singular most useless information I¡¯d ever received!


    There was something foul hidden away in my forests?


    Why, that wasn¡¯t news! It was an understatement!


    Far from needing to scour beneath any branches, all I had to do to find something nefarious at play was to walk past a tavern!


    ¡­ Fortunately, while scheming aunties weren¡¯t useful, those they associated with were!


    Thus, it was now time to directly question the ruffians who needlessly harassed my peasants.


    For that, even the directions I was given were needless. All I had to do was follow the odour.


    Eventually, I pinched my nose and frowned.


    ¡°Do you smell that, Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Yup! I don''t actually know which awful thing you¡¯re referring to, but I definitely smell it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m referring to the odour of drunken debauchery.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± Coppelia sniffed the air. It was so unpleasant she even forgot to wrinkle her nose. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s pretty much what we always smell when we sleep in an inn. I¡¯m surprised you still notice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. To safeguard my delicate sense of smell has been a constant endeavour. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve been routinely burying my face in the nice pillow throughout the day.¡±


    ¡°I thought you just did that because summoning a giant magical bed is fun.¡±


    ¡°... Yes, but it¡¯s also to reset my sense of smell, as is my royal duty. If I don¡¯t take full advantage of the Spring Queen¡¯s blessing of a permanent meadowy scent, it would set back human-fae relations.¡±


    ¡°But you always bad mouth the fae.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s also my royal duty. As long as they continue kidnapping the wrong princesses, I¡¯ll continue to remind them they can be more useful stealing away the more deserving instead.¡±


    ¡°... Such as unwashed hoodlums?¡±


    ¡°Such as unwashed hoodlums.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ all the while wrinkling my nose.


    Just ahead, a barn was at risk of collapsing to the magpies perched atop it.


    Little would be lost if it did.


    A makeshift bar was set up beneath its shadow, with kegs poorly disguised amongst barrels which once held seeds or crops. Tankards were filled and laden upon a table sat around by gentlemen as oblivious to the overgrown fields of wheat as the fact they were responsible for farming it.


    Or so their attire would suggest.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Overalls, pitchforks and mud.


    They were very much identical to the irate peasants who gathered at the Wessin Bridge.


    Except that unlike them, not even the most drunken farmer would permit a cooking fire to merrily burn while so close to an endless expanse of dry wheat. Nor would they be so easily caught napping where eyes could see.


    Instead, their hollering guffaws filled the open air, joined by the slapping of tables and the wincing when they realised that wood was hard.


    Yes.


    These specimens would do.


    ¡°Very well! ¡­ We shall query these brigands, sentence them to soap making and then swiftly be on our way. But remember¨Cdespite them being little more than nameless louts, we must never dispense with the usual subtlety we always observe.¡±


    ¡°Got it~!¡±


    Coppelia began stretching her arms. I nodded in satisfaction.


    Soon, the raucous laughter rang in my ears as I brought Apple towards the gathered scoundrels. So diligent were they in their hooliganism, that it wasn¡¯t until Apple was practically snorting at their muddy backs before they turned around.


    A gnarled table surrounded by blinking eyes met me.


    ¡°... Yes?¡± said the brigand nearest Apple¡¯s nostrils. ¡°Can we help you?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, you can,¡± I replied with a warm smile. ¡°Salutations, gentlemen. I¡¯m here to free you from your life of hardship from a cruel taskmaster. From now on, you may indulge in working relentlessly for a gentle soul instead.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m told that some vandal by the name of the Pale Ghoul is organising all the local misfits into disturbing my farmers. This is unacceptable. I¡¯m here to remove him.¡±


    Silence met my declaration. I expected nothing else.


    ¡°... Uh, do you mean the Pale Knight?¡± asked one of the louts.


    ¡°Yes. Where might I find him?¡±


    ¡°Lass, if we knew where he was, we¡¯d be telling the guards.¡±


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


    ¡°Ohohohohoho ¡­ how cute.¡±


    ¡°... ¡®Scuse me?¡±


    ¡°To feign such ignorance. Yet while I admit your synchronised looks of utter bewilderment and lack of obvious weapons being drawn is acting to a higher standard than I¡¯m used to, know that this isn¡¯t enough to fool me. You are clearly not farmers. And this is not your barn.¡±


    The ruffians exchanged blinks.


    ¡°Miss, we¡¯re farmers.¡±


    ¡°Please. You¡¯re clearly not. Pretending otherwise is useless.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not pretending.¡± The closest not-a-farmer pointed at the muddiest one here. ¡°That¡¯s Mr. Heaths. He owns all the farms here from the stream to the windmill.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°¡®Mr. Heaths¡¯? Did you spend all night thinking that up or is it the generic name all bandits are given?¡±


    A few tankards dropped alongside jaws.


    ¡°None of us here are bandits,¡± said ¡®Mr. Heaths¡¯, his shocked eyes straining in competition to widen more than everybody else¡¯s.


    I gave a small sigh, then jabbed my finger towards the barn.


    ¡°If you¡¯re farmers, then why would your own farm be in such a state of disrepair?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my house,¡± he said, his tone hurt.


    ¡°This barn is your house?¡±


    ¡°It looks better on the inside. Sure, it¡¯s seen better days, but so have we all. So long as it¡¯s sturdy enough to keep the worst of the cold out, it¡¯s more than good enough.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s clear it isn''t required to store anything crop related, at least. I see you¡¯re busy revelling over whatever scheme you¡¯ve recently accomplished.¡±


    The muddied man pointed towards one of his colleagues. He raised his hand sheepishly.


    ¡°It¡¯s Roy¡¯s birthday. Of course we have to celebrate.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And how many consecutive days of celebration is that, exactly? The wheat is so overgrown that it¡¯s threatening to invade the nearest forest.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, but that¡¯s because I haven¡¯t been able to get any decent manure this entire year. I¡¯ve decided this wheat isn¡¯t for harvesting. Instead, most of it¡¯s going back into the soil as fertiliser. I¡¯ve decided to let this field fallow.¡±


    ¡°... What is ¡®fallow¡¯?¡±


    ¡°It means to let the field rest. It¡¯s a normal part of crop rotation.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°W-Wha¨C! That you¡¯d go so far as to learn farming terminology ¡­ ! Very well, I admit you¡¯ve certainly prepared your answers ¡­ even so, nothing can excuse having a fire threatening what remains of the barn ¡­ !¡±


    ¡°Well, sure, I can see why that¡¯s a concern. But there¡¯s not many places in a farm we can have a cooking fire that¡¯s completely safe, so we do what we can instead. The area is clear, it¡¯s always supervised and there¡¯s buckets of water on hand. Most of all, the fire isn¡¯t meant to be open like this. Usually it¡¯s covered with a pot. Martha¡¯s just getting a new one now. She insists the last one was too big.¡±


    I looked at the man in overwhelming confusion.


    ¡°Who is Martha? ¡­ Your supervisor?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, you could see that.¡± The man gave a chuckle, then cupped a hand to the side of his mouth as he turned towards the barn. ¡°... Martha, we¡¯ve got guests! You need to bring the big pot back!¡±


    ¡°¨CWhat?¡±


    To my horror, I watched as a woman with curly hair and a yellow apron stuck her head out of the door as it immediately creaked ajar.


    Below her popped out another head.


    One considerably smaller.


    A small girl whose curious eyes looked at me with much less horror than I looked at her.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then returned my attention to the muddiest lout ¡­ man ¡­ farmer ¡­


    ¡°... Excuse me, but is that small child a brigand?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s 6.¡±


    A round of good-natured laughter filled the air.


    Farmers whose voices were bereft of hostility, their palms slapping against the table once more. One laughed so hard he began to choke. He went into his pockets and emptied out a rag to wipe his mouth.


    I was stunned.


    These ¡­ These were not louts! At least not when they weren¡¯t in a tavern!


    They were farmers!


    My princess senses ¡­ had failed me?!


    All of a sudden¨CI felt my world collapsing around me.


    T-This had never happened before!


    My princess senses were foolproof! They¡¯re what I used to sense the malevolence of my etiquette tutor as much as the hoodlums which plagued my kingdom! A finely crafted tool sharpened over years of daily use as I expertly hid between the same two wardrobes I¡¯d hidden in the past 164 times hoping she¡¯d never think I¡¯d do the same tactic 165 times!


    Could I have spent too much time punting fruit slimes? ¡­ No, that¡¯s ridiculous. Practising my delicate gardening techniques was the epitome of elegance!


    And yet ¡­ I couldn¡¯t deny that these muddied peasants were assuredly harmless peasants!


    This was utterly bizarre. All the more so as I could still sense the odour of ill-will.


    It hovered in the air as thick as ash. A familiar tingling of debauchery which pricked at my nose like the mysterious brown sludge served in common inns I¡¯d never once eaten but seemed to recognise upon sight.


    In fact ¡­ it was only becoming stronger!


    Fwiiish.


    A moment later¨C


    The source of the overwhelming discomfort revealed itself.


    A small group of armed ruffians calmly exited the tall wheat, arrayed in the finest rags that crowns couldn¡¯t buy. Covered in more dirt and bits of crops than any farmer spent in a field, they wielded crooked smiles far more terrifying than the clubs and rusted daggers in their hands.


    ¡°Well, well. What do we have ¡®ere, eh? Looks like another gathering you weren¡¯t invited to, Sourface.¡±


    ¡°Shaddup, Lemmy. I don¡¯t see an invite for you, either.¡±


    ¡°Both of you hush it. I ain¡¯t crawling through all them fields again just to get the jump on farmers. I got bitten three times by things that don¡¯t even have teeth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, if you weren¡¯t so ugly, Mother Nature wouldn¡¯t be so upset.¡±


    Horror came over the faces of the farmers.


    One of them rose, only to be stopped as a hoodlum immediately pointed a dagger his way.


    ¡°None of you move,¡± said the ruffian, his dark eyes squinting over everyone present. ¡°I¡¯m sure you all know how this works by now. Let¡¯s do this like gentlemen, shall we? Crowns in one pile. Jewellery in another. Everything else in another.¡±


    Cheeks paled all around me. And no wonder.


    Against such a motley group of brigands, it was already clear that neither pleas nor tears could move them. These were assuredly the most shameless louts that mud could spawn.


    Thus ¡­ I let out a sigh of overwhelming relief.


    Oh, thank goodness! My princess senses were working just fine!


    ¡°Ah, but I see we¡¯ve ladies here as well,¡± said the ruffian, finally sparing a glance away from the farming men. ¡°So how about you go first and ¡­¡±


    The man suddenly stopped.


    He stared at me. At Apple. And at Coppelia as she began joyfully rotating her shoulders.


    Suddenly, his squinting eyes opened as a spark of recognition lit up within them.


    ¡°My gods,¡± he whispered. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ It¡¯s ¡­¡±


    Indeed, there could be no doubt.


    This odour wasn¡¯t just nauseating ¡­ it was also distinctly familiar.


    ¡°You.¡± I pointed at the hoodlum. ¡°Were you not the same implacably low-tier hoodlums who attempted to accost me outside the forests of Rolstein?¡±


    The man immediately quivered. His eyes went to the sword by my side.


    ¡°N-No ¡­¡±


    I pointed at his companions. All of them snapped to attention, like servants called for inspection.


    ¡°Furthermore ¡­ I distinctly remember you being involved in a petty scheme involving kidnapping cats from the streets of Trierport. Why, I even punted you through a door! Were you not all arrested ¡­ ?¡±


    The nearest ruffian gulped, his squinting eyes magically repaired by virtue of my healing aura. They were now as wide as dinner plates.


    They could be wider still.


    ¡°Miss ¡­ ma¡¯am ¡­ listen, we¡¯ve changed ¡­ t-this isn¡¯t what it looks like, I swear ¡­ !¡±


    I smiled.


    And then I slowly drew Starlight Grace.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ my, is that so?¡±


    Each of them seized up, their legs torn between fleeing and remaining stationary and harmless. Expressions of overwhelming regret flickered across each of their faces.


    A moment later, they did what any ruffians in their situation could do.


    They threw down their weapons and struck the ground with their foreheads.

 Chapter 361: Gainful Employment

    I leaned down and brushed my palm over the flattened wheat stubs.


    Soft. Level. Tickly.


    It was like the top of my father¡¯s hair following the time Clarise tripped over and launched her latest invention over him. After the unscheduled trim by the royal barber, the result was something both oddly springy and smooth¨Cand was thus fun to brush my hand over for all of 5 minutes.


    This time, I only needed a single moment.


    Feeling none of the golden roots passing above my fingers, I stood up and gave a hum of consideration.


    A moment later ¡­ I nodded.


    ¡°Acceptable.¡±


    Before me, a small group of hoodlums stared with sweat washing away the mud from their faces.


    Their lips quivered, their wide eyes alert and disbelieving, all the while their constantly shaking hands gripped around the pitchforks, sickles and scythes they held or leaned against for support.


    They waited for me to issue a complaint.


    I didn¡¯t. And so a jumbled cry of joy, exhaustion and relief met my ears.


    Especially as there was still more to come.


    I held up my finger. The exuberance ceased at once.


    ¡°Indeed, this is an acceptable start,¡± I said with a kind smile. ¡°Now you must take all you¡¯ve learned and apply it to every field of wheat you see. Once you¡¯ve finished, you can make a start on the other crops as well.¡±


    The expressions of happiness only grew more pronounced.


    Indeed, the hoodlums were so delighted that the tears threatening to dry suddenly reappeared.


    I wasn¡¯t quite that overjoyed, but I was still satisfied.


    All around me, a field which was previously overgrown to the point of confusing my princess senses was now on its way to becoming tidy. Where dipping stalks of wheat existed before, only a perfectly measured square of roots and stems now shone¨Cmostly owing to the continuous nourishment of tears.


    To the side, bundles of tomorrow¡¯s flour were meticulously stacked in a steadily growing pile assorted by grade.


    Not by me, of course.


    But rather, the farmers beaming while idly drinking.


    ¡°Hm, not bad,¡± said Mr ¡­ the owner of these fields. ¡°Really wasn¡¯t planning on harvesting this batch. The grain yield is poor. But if I¡¯m going to have mischief makers hiding in them, I may as well use it as feed. Not much value in it otherwise.¡±


    ¡°The value is in teaching ruffians the error of their ways,¡± I replied, nodding wisely while placing my hand upon my chest. ¡°Sweat washes away both mud and foulness of spirit.¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯ve certainly got spirit. I¡¯m surprised. They picked this up faster than I imagined. But I suppose you also need good hands if you want to be an outlaw.¡±


    The farmer sounded impressed.


    I could only raise a brow.


    Frankly, these ruffians had better legs than hands given how often they¡¯d escaped justice.


    ¡­ Fortunately, they now had an opportunity to make good on their arrears!


    Indeed, this was officially the start of their journey to compensate the kingdom for their mishaps, and although the horizon before them was as endless as my kindness, I had little doubt they could reach it.


    Eventually. Maybe.


    After all, even Coppelia was helping them.


    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re still doing it wrong!¡± she said, looking aggrieved as she pointed at the only hoodlum to use a scythe. ¡°There¡¯s no point cutting it one bundle at a time! I told you to swing with 2% of your strength! If you do that, you can clear this field in one sweep!¡±


    ¡°Uuuh ¡­ but ¡­ but I don¡¯t think I can ¡­¡±


    ¡°Sure you can! Just try slightly harder!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m trying but ¡­ my arms ache so much ¡­ I ¡­ I think it¡¯s about to fall off ¡­¡±


    ¡°If it does, you can just stick it back on! The only reason it aches is because you¡¯re not swinging the scythe with feeling! If you don¡¯t respect your scythe, your scythe won¡¯t respect you!¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t think I can even feel anymore ¡­ everything is becoming numb ¡­¡±


    The hoodlum with the scythe made a pitiful sweep with his farming tool, managing to do just enough to cause a ladybird to land upon it before flying off again.


    Sensing the danger, I stepped forwards just before Coppelia could volunteer to farm.


    ¡°Very well!¡± I said brightly. ¡°Given your efforts so far, I shall permit one of you a brief rest¨C¡±


    The hoodlums all brightened at once.


    ¡°¨Cso that one of you may answer my queries regarding your sordid presence.¡±


    The sounds of farming instruments at work and laborious breathing immediately filled the air.


    Naturally, I was overjoyed. None of them wished to be overtaken on the road to redemption. Even so, I still needed answers.


    ¡°You.¡± I clicked my fingers towards the hoodlum with the most teeth. ¡°I hereby deem you ruffian #1. Explain. How did you escape from Trierport¡¯s cells?¡±


    The man looked up, then glanced towards his colleagues. None of them met his eyes.


    He swallowed a gulp and raised himself.


    ¡°We, uh, we didn¡¯t escape. We were set free.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I was utterly stunned. ¡°Are you saying you have accomplices? Amongst who? Guards? Judges? Who would lack the standards to accept whatever bribes you could offer?¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Well, no, we didn¡¯t bribe anyone. We were only in the cells for a few nights.¡±


    ¡°W-Wha¨C?! How is that possible? You committed arduous crimes in broad daylight!¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, we ¡­ we only kidnapped some cats.¡±


    The man ended his sentence there, as though it was all which needed to be said.


    I was aghast.


    ¡°Only?! ¡­ That debacle was a humiliation for me! The acknowledgement I received from accidentally rescuing those cats is a blotch against my reputation I¡¯ll have to live with until I can find the drawer which holds all the official records!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m very sorry? But, uh, for what it¡¯s worth, you don¡¯t look like someone who¡¯d rescue cats.¡±


    The sound of labour immediately halted.


    Jaws dropped as the man¡¯s colleagues stared at his back. I shared in their shock.


    After all ¡­ that was one of the most appropriate things I¡¯d ever heard!


    ¡°My, so you do know courtesy!¡± I said, offering a bright smile. ¡°That is the exact sort of politeness which can go a long way ¡­ just not enough for me to ignore you disregarding the mercy of a justice system in need of clear overhaul. Or my famed kindness. To repeat your mistakes is a poor decision.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t mean to!¡± replied ruffian #1 at once, his eyes wide. ¡°We tried to change! We did!¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing happened! That¡¯s ¡­ well, that¡¯s the problem! That¡¯s always the problem! It¡¯s not like we want to be outlaws living off the land¨Cbut nobody will take us in. There¡¯s nothing we can do. Not when we¡¯ve got dumb names like Sourface, Patches and Lemmy.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Then change your names.¡±


    The ruffian paused.


    ¡°... We like our names,¡± he admitted, his meek words drawing a few nods in response.


    I briefly sighed into my palms.


    ¡°Fine. So you¡¯re cursed with inappropriate names. Is this why you choose to rob farmers of their possessions? One of them is even celebrating their birthday. That is awful.¡±


    ¡°We had no choice,¡± claimed the ruffian, pointing instantly towards the nearby forest. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ It¡¯s the boss.¡±


    ¡°The boss.¡±


    ¡°The boss. The new one, I mean. Not the old one. He, uh ¡­ he went off to farm, pretty much just like this. But the new boss¨Che ain¡¯t good. And I say that from us. That man¡¯s not just the bad type. I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s ¡­ well, evil.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Do you mean he robbed a tax inspector?¡±


    ¡°Um ¡­ I don¡¯t rightly know. But he¡¯s evil. As in actually evil.¡±


    I leaned in slightly.


    ¡°... How evil?¡±


    ¡°More evil than you can know. You see it around him. Like a fog.¡±


    The ruffian dented his brows in seriousness. I offered a nod.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Ohhohohohooohohohoho!!¡±


    I raised a hand to my lips, rewarding the bewildered hoodlums with the gift of my healing laughter.


    My, but wasn¡¯t this wonderful?


    A bandit with a slightly unpleasant aura.


    I see this one was truly pushing the boundaries. It was little wonder none of my knights had found this unique scoundrel yet. He was so utterly mundane that it acted as its own invisibility spell.


    ¡°... Very well, then.¡± I offered a smile. ¡°Quite frightening, indeed. Would he also be habitually rude, a frequent cackler and in possession of a scar?¡±


    The ruffian didn¡¯t immediately answer. His eyes glanced towards the forest instead.


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m not too sure on the scar. He always wears a helmet. I don¡¯t hear much laughing or rudeness, either. But that¡¯s the thing about him. He only needs a few words to drain the life out of you. He calls himself the Pale Knight, but I reckon it¡¯s everyone else that¡¯s pale around him.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d expect nothing less. A petty hooligan pretending to be a bandit knight is shameless beyond measure.¡±


    The ruffian shook his head manically.


    ¡°He¡¯s more than that,¡± he said, his voice lowering. ¡°Whatever you think he is, it¡¯s worse. He¡¯s gathered everyone. Even friends of the old boss. And they follow because he¡¯s strong. So strong we don¡¯t know why he needs us collecting tithes for him.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and I suppose you¡¯re pretending to follow along, is it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Because we¡¯ve seen what happens to those who say no. Those who try to run. It¡¯s like a game to him. He finds them quick as a hound, stares them right in the eye ¡­ and then they¡¯re not right anymore.¡±


    The man scrunched up his fists.


    Those behind him nodded. Their earnestness was clear.


    Apparently, this pale vagabond was so odorous that even brigands couldn¡¯t recover. A truly horrifying prospect. But all the more reason to sweep the blemish away.


    ¡°Very well. I thank you for the warning. And so where might I find this hoodlum?¡±


    The ruffian blinked for several moments, astonished that I¡¯d dare risk my nose.


    It wasn¡¯t until I began tapping my foot that he pointed again towards the forest.


    ¡°... Well, uh, I don¡¯t know where he is. But he has the higher ups collecting the tithes. They¡¯ll know. There¡¯s a stream nearby. If you follow it, that¡¯ll take you straight to one of the bigger camps. But I don¡¯t think you should go. That man ¡­ he¡¯s different. He¡¯s not like us good-for-nothings.¡±


    ¡°True. You¡¯re worth far more.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve harvested wheat,¡± I said simply. ¡°Your worth is already greater than any of your peers. For while the gold you now gather is different from the gold you¡¯ve illegally taxed through your numerous misdeeds, the joy it brings is no different. It is the gift from which every smile and perfectly springy shortcake blooms.¡±


    I gestured at the fruits of their labour.


    In unison, all the louts took in the piled up bundles of wheat and the flattened field as though only seeing past their tears for the first time.


    ¡°Yeah ¡­ you might be right,¡± came a reply caught in a sniffle. ¡°I ¡­ I think I understand the boss now. I dunno why, but this does feel a lot better than what we usually do.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± I clapped my hands in joy. ¡°In that case, you may continue your rehabilitation under the supervision of these helpful farmers! ¡­ At least until I¡¯ve time to discuss matters of soap.¡±


    ¡°S-Soap?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Soap. This will be a very important conversation. But since this new forest gnat clearly requires it more, I¡¯ll allow a pause until my return. In the meanwhile, please do your best to harvest until you reach the horizon and not to go mysteriously missing. Otherwise, my smile will take on a different shape.¡±


    The edges of my lips curled very slightly, threatening to shift from a smile to a frown.


    A small gulp answered.


    ¡°I ¡­ we understand ¡­ please have a safe trip.¡±


    ¡°Why, thank you.¡±


    Satisfied all was done, I turned to find my noble steed.


    I found him making friends with the farmers.


    It filled me with pride to see that they were clearly more enthusiastic about Apple than they were about their temporary workers. At the same time, it was somewhat dire that he wasn¡¯t recognised as a royal steed.


    ¡°¨CWait.¡±


    Suddenly, Ruffian #1 called out to me. I duly glanced behind.


    ¡°There¡¯s ¡­ well, there¡¯s something else you should probably know,¡± he said, wearing a clear expression of hesitation. ¡°If you¡¯re going into the forest, that is. To talk to the new boss. About soap.¡±


    ¡°Yes ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that ¡­ there¡¯s something in there. Something other than freakish knights and worthless louts like us. There¡¯s a darkness. A shadow. A thing hiding in the forest. Haunting it.¡±


    Ughhhhhhhhh.


    I let out a small groan.


    Of course there was a thing. Why wouldn¡¯t there be?


    ¡°Fine. What is this unnecessary nuisance, then? ¡­ Some drooling demon?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know. None of us do. But it¡¯s a ferocious, growling beast that takes people away ¡­ a monster in the shape of a girl.¡±


    He paused.


    ¡°... Sort of your size,¡± he added meekly.


    A wall of fervent nods was directed towards me.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    Then, I simply continued towards Apple.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Excellent. Perhaps I can ask her for directions.¡±

 Chapter 362: Black & White

    A gentle breeze swept a leaf against the front of my hair.


    I blew it away.


    High above me, snatches of golden light weaved amidst the shifting canopy as the sun began to drop. The result was a forest lit in the colours of springtime as summer dared to near. Where the sunlight poked between the leaves, a myriad of vibrant hues shone back.


    But none more so than from a glimmering stream.


    As it weaved amongst the handsome oaks, its surface sparkled like a watery kaleidoscope.


    Here and there, tiny rainbows were formed where the stream tumbled down a handful of stone slabs.


    Joined by the blushing tulips and the swaying fronds which grew along its edges, it was the perfect guide as it led us zigzagging through a forest so tranquil that any suggestion that bandits could be plaguing it was almost unthinkable.


    Which is why¨C


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    I skipped over a hemp rope tied between two trees.


    Then, I waited for Coppelia to join me before I scooped up a twig and tossed it towards the rope.


    Thunk.


    A rock promptly dropped from the branches, just large enough to murder anyone not wearing a helmet.


    Satisfied at the result, I continued onwards, admiring the blushing tulips, the singing blackbirds, the reflection of my smile in the stream ... and also another hemp rope tied between two trees.


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    I duly skipped over it ¡­ before waiting again for Coppelia to join me.


    Thump.


    A slightly larger rock dropped after I tossed a twig.


    Content once more, I turned around and continued onwards, enjoying the sight of a forest which wasn¡¯t cursed with thorned roots and overly large badgers attempting to murder me.


    Instead, all I found was another hemp rope tied between two trees.


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    And then another. And another.


    Thwump. Thwump. Thwump.


    One after another, rocks of gradually increasing size but exactly the same mechanism dropped from branches which were gradually bending so wildly that I only needed to look up to see where the hemp ropes were lying in wait.


    Thus, many rocks later¨C


    I threw up my arms in utter exasperation.


    ¡°If I¡¯m not dying the 1st time, why do you think I¡¯m dying the 18th time ¡­ ?!¡±


    I was aghast.


    To use the same trap repeatedly wasn¡¯t simply ridiculous¨Cit was hopelessly uncouth!


    Indeed, while it worked as an insult, it utterly failed as a trap!


    Was this truly the best that the brigands who plagued this forest could do?! ¡­ At this rate, I¡¯d be on my way before the hour was done ¡­ which was good, yes, but not at the expense of my sanity!


    Coppelia giggled, all the while chewing on a bundle of red tulips plucked from the stream.


    ¡°Optimism is good~¡± she said generously. ¡°We need more of this in the world.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s optimism and then there¡¯s obstinance. This somehow goes even further. Why is it that only the size of the rocks are changing? Why not try something different? All this is doing is leaving dents in my forests.¡±


    ¡°Maybe this guy just really hates grass.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose this would explain the discount bulk purchase on gradually widening rocks.¡±


    ¡°I mean, at some point, the rocks are going to get big enough that they¡¯ll start hitting your entire kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Unlikely. It¡¯d mean somebody would have to trip over these absurdly obvious ropes. Most aren¡¯t even ankle height.¡± I shook my head in dismay. ¡°... No, this is awful. If any bandit wishes to rise up in the world of hooliganism, they¡¯ll first need to learn how to properly dispose of their enemies. Even a drunkard could harmlessly stumble over traps so shoddy.¡±


    Coppelia tilted her head in thought.


    ¡°Really? Because I thought you were pretty impressive.¡±


    ¡°... Hm?¡±


    ¡°I mean, even if it¡¯s the same trap, it doesn¡¯t really matter. Most humans specialise in finding amazing ways to get themselves killed. But you¡¯re actually pretty good at not dying to dumb traps.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°O-Ohohohoho ¡­ why, of course!¡± I placed a hand atop my chest and smiled. ¡°As a princess, even traps as sophisticated as these cannot harm me! ¡­ Why, I must be elegance itself! To ever allow my feet to be taken unawares is no different to a merchant falling prey to a con artist or a knight being caught with hair that¡¯s not even fashionably dishevelled¨Cit would be a humiliation.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh, I see~! is this part of princess training?¡±


    ¡°No, it is not part of princess training. It is something I learned on the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°... Meaning that ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Meaning that I learned it during the chaos of our soir¨¦es.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that makes more sense.¡±


    I nodded wisely, then continued onwards while searching for additional traps for Coppelia¡¯s benefit.


    ¡°Indeed, compared to the swiping legs of nobility during the turmoil of a court waltz, this is child¡¯s play. If I can keep my feet when everybody is doing their best to accidentally step on my heels, then even meticulously placed traps such as these have no hope of defeating me.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Huh. The dancing you guys do sounds less torturous than I thought.¡±


    ¡°It is and it isn¡¯t,¡± I helpfully explained. ¡°Traditional court dancing comes rife with intrigue. That is the height of dullness ¡­ which is why we stipulate that all dresses must be no shorter than a carpet in length. The chaos that always ensues sets back the next organised betrayal by years. Cheese, biscuits and insults everywhere.¡±


    ¡°Oooh~ that almost sounds fun!¡±


    I clapped my hands together and smiled.


    ¡°Not all formality is mundane ¡­ just most! Speaking of dancing, how much do you know?¡±


    ¡°Lots. Many. So much.¡±


    ¡°O-Oh? Truly?¡±


    Coppelia twirled on the spot.


    It was very pretty. It also wasn¡¯t official.


    ¡°I know the Coppelia,¡± she declared confidently.


    I nodded at once.


    ¡°The Coppelia is truly a form which defies expectation. Which has its place. Just not when you¡¯re wearing a needlessly cumbersome dress. But that¡¯s fine ¡­ I will teach you!¡±


    ¡°Eh? You want to teach me how to dance?¡±


    ¡°Naturally, I do! It¡¯s part of your handmaiden training. I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡±


    My loyal handmaiden, who still had a considerable list of exercises to go through including tea making, tea pouring and tea spilling upon designated guests, leaned ever so slightly away.


    ¡°Hmmmm ¡­ I dunno, it looks kinda stuffy. I¡¯m too cute for that.¡±


    ¡°As am I. But neither you nor I ever had a tutor like me. Dancing is the oldest art for a reason. It¡¯s an expression of the soul. Moreover, learning to dance in the courtly style will allow you to take my place when a suitor comes to bother me.¡±


    ¡°Pass.¡±


    ¡°C-Coppelia! There are only positives! ¡­ Mostly for me, but it¡¯ll also help your eyes become keener!¡±


    ¡°Eeehh ¡­ my eyes are pretty good, though?¡±


    ¡°They are. But they can be better. Trust me, once you¡¯ve grown accustomed to the sight of rival dance partners attempting to dislocate your fibula, you shall see the world in a different light. Using just their footsteps, you can discern their every wicked intention.¡±


    Coppelia hummed for a moment.


    Then, she raised her arm.


    ¡°Question!¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Can it discern wicked intentions even if they¡¯re not human?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes¨Cas long as they have legs, then just the way they move their toes will betray their innermost thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Great! This should be easy, then.¡±


    ¡°... Is it because the thing you¡¯re referring to has four legs and not two?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~¡±


    We came to a sudden stop.


    Before us, the sight of the first large-scale blemish had finally appeared.


    The stream continued onwards, weaving through a meadow spoiled by the greatest source of public littering I¡¯d seen since the last time a handful of elves had gathered together.


    It was a mess of patchwork tents and everything they contained. Some had been staked in the grass, while others had been allowed to blow over.


    Disused clothing, bowls and bedrolls were scattered in all directions, while crates and barrels were piled up with little concern for either organisation or the fact that many of the lids were left ajar, offering the wood mice to stuff their tummies before summer¡¯s arrival.


    There were also racks of weapons. Most of which were now on the ground.


    Along with the blood stains.


    And a single cow.


    Moooo.


    Yes.


    There in the centre of what was very much a hastily deserted bandit camp ¡­ was a cow with a bell.


    Clink, clink. Clink, clink.


    It stood beside a cauldron long gone cold.


    A large, common farm animal found up and down my kingdom. It boasted a fetching black and white pattern, large flappy ears, a swishing tail and a bundle of grass in its mouth.


    It raised its head and gazed directly at us ¡­ all the while chewing away and offering little notice to the abandonment around it.


    Or indeed, the clear evidence of violence.


    ¡°... Alrighty!¡± Coppelia turned to me with a clear look of expectation. ¡°What¡¯s the cow¡¯s intention?¡±


    I stared at said cow.


    ¡°Those are hooves. Not toes. It doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    A giggle came in response. That was good. The more amused she was, the less people would believe her when she explained what we¡¯d seen.


    ¡°Very well,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°This is a somewhat more original trap ¡­ come, we¡¯ll go around the camp.¡±


    ¡°Eh?! You want to ignore the cow?¡±


    ¡°No, I want to ignore the cow surrounded by blood. I¡¯ve no idea what this is, but I do know that continuing not to know will make my life happier. That is the most important thing in the world.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave the cow.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s evil? We can¡¯t miss what hilarious things it does.¡±


    I quietly groaned.


    ¡°Coppelia, we came here to interrogate brigands, not suspicious farm animals surrounded by blood. Yes, I realise their language skills are likely on-par, but I doubt a cow knows more than whatever misfits have abandoned it.¡±


    ¡°Abandoned it ¡­ or been eaten by it.¡±


    Suddenly, Coppelia leaned forwards slightly, studying the cow for any signs of demonic energy.


    After a moment¨C


    ¡°Mmh~ it¡¯s not a horse,¡± she declared confidently. ¡°Want to poke it?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± I replied, appalled at the very suggestion. ¡°Unless it¡¯s part of a staged public relations event, I¡¯ve no obligation to approach a suspicious cow. What if it sneezes at me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll just mean it likes you.¡±


    ¡°... True. But regardless, I see no reason to poke it. We have things to do.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but if we leave the cow surrounded by blood alone, historical records indicate there¡¯s a 99.8% probability it¡¯s going to end up conquering the world and covering it in shadow. Which I¡¯m fine with. But it¡¯ll also mean you having to leave your tower to fix everything again.¡±


    My mouth widened.


    Just which history books did Coppelia read, exactly ¡­ ?! Because I could absolutely see a scenario where this came true!


    ¡°Very well.¡± I briefly closed my eyes, aggrieved at every option. ¡°One of us needs to approach and see what the cow does, then. If it¡¯s normal, we can at least shoo it towards a farm so productivity isn¡¯t going to waste.¡±


    A moment of silence passed.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Rock, paper, scissors, go!!¡±


    I looked down.


    ¡°... Uuuugghh, fine,¡± I said, bravely strolling forward to meet my doom. ¡°If I die, let it be known that it was by a carrot. I¡¯ll at least remove it from every menu as my final act.¡±


    Ignoring the round of applause behind me, I approached the blinking cow.


    Still, it did nothing.


    In fact ¡­ it simply leaned down to chew on a fresh tuft of grass.


    Something which would have been insulting were it not for the fact this was, in fact, a highly coordinated act. Because before I could even begin interrogating the farm animal, a different and mercifully familiar issue presented itself.


    A spear thrown unerringly from the treeline, dribbling with a noxious liquid as it went.


    I barely saw it ¡­ for beyond the weapon was something even more horrifying.


    The sight of a pale creature cloaked in malevolence.


    It wore blackened leather and a bloody scarf, its eyes alight with a flame that was both cold and burning with cruelty, its skin stretched taut over its bones.


    A human corpse risen from the soil.


    Pwiishh.


    The next moment, the spear broke as a black scythe ringed with shadow struck it cleanly in half.


    Its owner didn¡¯t mind.


    After all, he still had a better one.


    A figure in the shape of what was once a man raised another weapon. A boar spear more suited for hunting a frost mammoth than for use in battle.


    As he approached, its weight seemed to drag him down, his knees creaking and back stooped as he shambled closer. An undead horror whose sickly skin and pale hair reflected the sunlight. But even that compared little to the flames burning in its hollow sockets.


    Then ¡­ he came to a pause and pointed towards the cow.


    ¡°Her name¡¯s Daisy,¡± he said proudly. ¡°Daisy the Bloodletter.¡±


    The grazing farm animal looked up at me. I looked back.


    And then I came to one conclusion.


    ¡­ I should have brought Apple.

 Chapter 363: Proper Form

    Wights.


    Where darkness went, these foul creatures walked before it, carrying the blighted torches which smothered kingdoms and armies whole.


    Although they still possessed flesh and bones, they were but caricatures of who they were once, raised through necromancy to see out the wicked thoughts which had failed to fade along with the beating of their hearts.


    Possessing a fragment of their soul, they were the natural leaders of the undead.


    Intelligent, merciless and cruel, they boasted whatever strengths they had in life, now bolstered by the dark magic which had called them from the grave.


    Given the bloodstained scarf, the leather armour blackened by sheer virtue of his foul odour and the spear both barbed and glaived in his hand, there was little doubt as to where this wight¡¯s talents lay.


    All I cared about was the cow.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I said, appalled that it could have a title reserved exclusively for chihuahuas. ¡°What did you call this cow?¡±


    The wight imitated a proud smile.


    Shifting the pale, ghostly hair from his flaming eyes, he nodded towards the farm animal with the same joy as farmers overlooking hoodlums harvesting wheat.


    ¡°Daisy the Bloodletter,¡± he said, cheerfully unapologetic over his murder attempt. ¡°Quite the sight, eh? Very fetching pattern, nice and distinct. Also notice the ears¨Ccalm as a grave. Not mine, of course. But usually. It means the flies haven¡¯t gotten to her yet. This cow is the very picture of health.¡±


    The cow nibbled on a tuft of grass.


    The grass stained in blood.


    ¡°Very well,¡± I said, only shocked that it hadn¡¯t begun spawning infernal imps yet. ¡°And just what manner of demonic monster is this, then?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a cow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s bad enough. But what even more frightful entity lurks beneath the skin?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. Daisy is an ordinary cow. Specifically a Lowlands Tress. They¡¯re a popular breed amongst dairy farmers owing to their high milk yields.¡±


    ¡°I see. I shall never remember that. And so why is this supposedly ordinary cow now surrounded by bloodied grass which you will shortly need to scrub?¡±


    ¡°To help acclimatise her to her role, of course.¡±


    ¡°Her role? What role? You just said this is a dairy cow. They do not need blood.¡±


    ¡°Most don¡¯t, no. But Daisy is unique. She¡¯s also my bloodhound.¡±


    ¡°... Excuse me?¡±


    The wight did its best to stand up straight.


    It failed as its rotten muscles laboured and bones creaked, the limits of necromancy as clear as the sunlight repulsed by his pale skin barely clinging to flesh.


    Even so, the look of contentment still remained.


    ¡°I am Alfred Dronn, famed huntsman of the woods. But as good as my nose is, my bloodhounds are always better. That¡¯s Daisy right here.¡±


    The cow lightly swished its tail.


    I could only nod in agreement ¡­ all the while raising a hand to my lips.


    ¡°Ohhohohohohohoho!!¡±


    Suddenly, all my bewilderment lessened as mirth took its place.


    I was utterly relieved. Here I thought I¡¯d be required to do battle against a cow. Instead, it was clear that the wight before me had been raised by the wrong necromancer. Especially as he had the nerve to look mildly aggrieved.


    ¡°Miss, I know it¡¯s not my place to tell others how to act, but this really isn¡¯t the proper response.¡±


    I relaxed my shoulders and offered an appreciative smile.


    ¡°Ohoho ¡­ is that so? And yet it¡¯s very much my place to do just that. So allow me to be brief¨Cit isn¡¯t a bloodhound you need, it¡¯s a complaint form.¡±


    ¡°... A what now?¡±


    ¡°I see the flames in your eye sockets are simply there to hide the lack of thought behind it. I advise you to seek formal compensation against whichever failed apprentice raised you from the grave. Clearly, they forgot to include your faculties if you believe a cow can serve as a bloodhound. What will it do? Shake its bell at me?¡±


    The wight wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°That bell is the call of doom. Once Daisy has tasted her first kill, the sound of that bell will invite terror like echoing footsteps in the dark.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a cow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a cow formed of 1200 pounds of barely contained bloodlust.¡± The wight gestured at the grazing farm animal, having obviously had this conversation before. ¡°Do you think cows are merely pets to be admired? No, they are vicious. Are you aware of how many people die to cows each year? It is countless, for they leave neither prisoners nor distinguishable remains. If a cow charges you, then you won¡¯t even have time to issue a last wish. This is a being of destruction.¡±


    The being of destruction flared its nostrils.


    It turned away from a smattering of blood, choosing to nibble on a dandelion instead.


    ¡°Ohohohohoo!!¡± I placed both hands against my tummy as something began to hurt. ¡°Indeed, 1200 pounds of medium-rare steak au poivre! Why, I can already see the dangers of the marbled fat rushing towards me! I¡¯ll be comatosed for days!¡±


    The wight narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°If you must know, I did attempt to find an actual bloodhound. Sadly, the sheepdogs owned by farmers are already trained. So I took a cow. Which is fine. Daisy is hardly an unworthy substitute.¡±


    ¡°... Ohohhohohohoho!!¡±


    ¡°Miss, this is not a laughing matter.¡±


    ¡°Ohoho ¡­ ahem, very wrong. This is the most amusing thing I¡¯ve ever heard from a random assailant in my path. I must say, this makes for a wondrous change of pace. Perhaps I¡¯ll even remember you as a blotch in the back of my mind. I offer my gratitude. I thought the mundane traps around me meant this was fated to be a dull experience, but you¡¯ve actually improved it. Just.¡±


    ¡°Then you failed to appreciate art. My traps are not mundane. They are spectacular.¡±


    I stopped laughing at once.


    ¡°Excuse me? These are your traps? Not the bandits?¡±


    ¡°Of course they¡¯re my traps. Lawless brigands have neither discipline nor patience. They can¡¯t do anything as sophisticated as what I¡¯ve made.¡±


    ¡°Sophisticated? ¡­ It¡¯s the same trap over and over again, just with slightly bigger rocks each time!¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± The wight attempted to snap a finger. He failed. ¡°Consistency girl. That¡¯s the trick. Do you know what separates me from other huntsmen? The reason why I was selected to be brought back?¡±


    ¡°Presumably, it¡¯s because of a stark lack of choice.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s because I¡¯m the best. I¡¯m patient. You might laugh, but so have many others. And now their corpses don¡¯t even remain to be raised. The 5th Law of Huntsmanship is clear, after all. If you drop enough rocks, someone will eventually be hit with a rock.¡±


    I threw up my arms in outrage.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t a law! It¡¯s littering!¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s littering, then so is throwing a spear or shooting an arrow. Just because the projectile is a rock doesn¡¯t make it any more or less legitimate.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not throwing these rocks! You¡¯re dumping them like pianos in Ouzelia ¡­ except they at least have form! Are your poorly made traps meant to distract from the fact you chose a cow as a pet or simply because you lack the dexterity to do better as a zombie?!¡±


    A gasp met my words.


    ¡°... I¡¯m a wight,¡± he said, sounding genuinely hurt. ¡°Not a zombie.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then you need to fix your posture. It¡¯s worse than the most shambling of undead. Just because your skin looks terrible doesn¡¯t mean your back has to be as well.¡±


    ¡°My back is due to the way I was buried. My coffin had terrible ergonomics. Even so, it doesn¡¯t prevent me from performing my given tasks. My aim is still true.¡±


    ¡°Yes, so long as a cow is there to help you. A shame that its contribution will go to waste. I¡¯ve no idea how long you were lying in wait, but I¡¯m afraid everybody only gets one assassination chance against me. That keeps it fair.¡±


    The wight raised a ¡­ well, he didn¡¯t have a brow. But I could see the ridge bone moving.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to assassinate you.¡±


    ¡°No? What were you doing, then? Greeting me with a spear?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was trying to impale you. But not necessarily assassinate. Besides, I only did it because I mistook you for someone else.¡±


    ¡°... Hm? What was that?¡±


    ¡°I was trying to assassinate someone. Just not you. With that said, you¡¯ve my apologies. I¡¯m tracking another girl. Don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve seen one around?¡±


    I gasped in horror.


    ¡°H-How dare you! ¡­ There is nobody worthy of being assassinated while I¡¯m here!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s the case. But I only agreed to be raised on the condition I¡¯d be released after thoroughly murdering my prey. I can see based on your liveliness that prey isn¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°That is irrelevant! Why, I¡¯m so beautiful that every envious noblewoman in the kingdom has a price on my head! ¡­ Why wouldn¡¯t you assassinate me?¡±


    The wight shrugged.


    ¡°Maybe in the past, I would¡¯ve,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I care less about earning new crowns now than settling past debts. Grudges only deepen in the grave, after all. Me and Daisy have a very long list of people, their dependents and their every tangible relation to go through. That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking if you¡¯ve seen any other young ladies sharing your build in these woods. I¡¯ve some loose trinkets I can barter for information.¡±


    I almost fainted.


    First attempting to murder me. Then apologising badly. Then attempting to bribe me with whatever bits of grave fungus were in his pockets. Even from an undead commoner, this was a new low.


    ¡°... Why, I have never been so insulted! I¡¯m worth far more than any random maiden skipping in the woods! It¡¯s beyond disgraceful that you¡¯d ask for my own assistance in how to ignore me!¡±


    ¡°Well, if you insist on joining my list, I¡¯m happy to oblige. But your name would still be at the bottom. If you¡¯d like to help me make a start, I¡¯m open to a fair exchange.¡±


    ¡°I am not! I have nothing to offer, least of all to a wight who wishes to seek vengeance with a cow!¡±


    ¡°Like I said, Daisy is my bloodhound.¡±


    I leaned forwards, jabbing my finger towards the least of his crimes. But one he still needed to repair.


    ¡°No, Daisy is a productive member of society. Something you are not. And if farmers see their animals slacking, then so will they. So I will offer you a choice. Return this cow to whichever farm you stole it from and then return yourself to the grave.¡±


    The wight waited.


    ¡°... Yes? And what is the other choice?¡±


    ¡°There is no other choice.¡±


    A moment of silence passed as the wight considered my generous offer. His thumb clicked as it gripped around his spear, the flames in his hollow eyes dipping towards the sword by my side.


    ¡°Hm ¡­ it¡¯s good to know my instincts are still alive,¡± he mused. ¡°It was worth trying to kill you, even if I already suspected you weren¡¯t who I was looking for.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the most polite thing you¡¯ve said. You should have stuck with that. Given that I¡¯m so virtuous that angels recoil, it¡¯s only natural you¡¯d feel the urge to murder me.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I need to. I suppose I could just capture you instead. Given your complexion, I do believe there¡¯s someone who¡¯d mightily enjoy what you¡¯ve to offer.¡±


    ¡°Please. You need to grow scales and wings before you can consider¨C¡±


    ¡°[Paralysing Strike].¡±


    Without waiting for me to voice my relief, the wight turned his spear and struck.


    A horrifying spectacle.


    To interrupt me was the height of uncouthness. But that wasn¡¯t the reason I paled at the sight.


    Instead ¡­ it was due to the way he lifted himself like a rabbit with a broken leg as he lunged.


    Shambling, tired, awkward.


    Like a servant having just climbed up my tower to bring up a single grape only to be told it was the wrong dimensions. As his barbed weapon thrust towards me, it was clear that all the effort had gone into dousing it with whatever noxious liquid was coating the tip.


    Frankly, a murder attempt boasting such fatigued motion was unworthy of even my disdain.


    Were I equally as crass, I¡¯d dismiss him with a simple poke of my sword, allowing the storied enchantments to lay all memories of this needless obstacle to rest.


    ¡­ But I was Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea!


    I could hardly abide poor manners no matter who was serving or attacking me. And while it was too late to save his words, I could perhaps salvage his posture.


    Thus, as the wight lunged with all the elegance of a dancer already tripping over his feet, I offered a professional nod instead as Starlight Grace left my side.


    ¡°Your form is dire, but it¡¯s also nothing I haven¡¯t fixed before ¡­ and so I¡¯ll offer a kindness for you to take back to your grave.¡±


    I sent my sword forwards.


    And then ¡­ turning it just slightly, I used the flat of the blade to begin nudging his posture into place.


    The wight¡¯s flaming eyes widened at once. And for the briefest moment, a look of horror mixed with confusion flashed across his taut face.


    After all¨C


    He¡¯d already realised what such a tiny change in his post-life could accomplish.


    Ohohohohohohoho!


    Here it was! My ultimate ability ¡­ again!


    [Princess Posture]!


    Trained by the unremitting standards of my tutors with an overly long ruler, I could spot and fix any error from my own staff ¡­ or indeed, those belonging to others as well!


    Thus, I went to work, diligently repairing the wight¡¯s form.


    Using my sword as an alignment ruler, I swiftly pushed back his forehead, batted his knees, nudged his elbows, tapped at his shoulders and then whacked his sternum to the sound of his back practically recoiling into place.


    ¡°Ohohohohohohohohoho!¡±


    Indeed, I couldn¡¯t cure him of his undeath ¡­ but I could make him remember a time that he wasn¡¯t prey to whatever dark necromancy clutched onto him!


    With careful, minute nudges of my sword, I worked on his form until he no longer lingered like a leaping ghoul. Instead, his motion became a perfect jump, his arms practically wings as he soared past me like a mockingbird first taking flight ¡­


    And then he landed, eyes wide as his feet found the grass past me. But he neither stumbled nor fell.


    Instead, he continued moving.


    First as a walk, then as a run, his limbs driving him forwards as he burst into a sprint and then a hop. An air of freedom surrounded him as his spear was flung to the wayside, and all I saw of his previously slouching form were shoulders as primed as a receptionist¡¯s behind a desk.


    ¡°Incredible ¡­¡± came his voice, growing steadily distant as he ran into the treeline. ¡°In ¡­ Incredible! Even my knees feel good ¡­ good ¡­ they feel good! This freedom! Oh, oh what free¨C¡±


    Crunch.


    A large rock dropped down, triggered by the snapping of a hemp rope.


    My hands went to my mouth as a plume of unnatural dust rose where the wight had collapsed.


    Crushed beneath his own trap, his legs momentarily wriggled before they fell still. Flesh and skin soon began sizzling like a marriage application tossed into a fire. As the dark magic binding him stuttered and failed, only bones soon remained, half of it shattered beneath the truth of the wight¡¯s claim.


    Nobody ever expected the 19th attempt.


    ¡°Ahahahahh ¡­ ahahahaha ¡­ ahahahahahahah~!¡±


    I groaned at once.


    Replacing the sight of poor posture was instead something worse.


    A certain clockwork doll hanging onto a branch for dear life. She hugged it as she laughed into a sprig of leaves, the tickling against her face only causing her amusement to become steadily louder.


    ¡°C-Coppelia! This is not a time for laughter! I ¡­ I meant to do that!¡±


    ¡°Ahhahahahahahaha~¡±


    I rolled my eyes and waited.


    To my surprise, I didn¡¯t need to wait long.


    She suddenly stopped.


    Just as she threatened to slip off from the branch entirely, she instead hugged it tighter, narrowing her eyes as she looked past me. The act filled me with grief. And so I turned around to witness what had become of the suspicious cow.


    To my horror, I saw that rather than morphing into a monster, it¡¯d simply spawned one instead.


    There, covered in mud beside the cow, was the figure of ¡­ something.


    I didn¡¯t know what it was. Only that it faintly resembled the shape of a girl. And that it was utterly covered in mud, save for a few fingertips which had instead wiped the mud onto the hilt of a strangely shiny sword she was carrying.


    I was mortified.


    ¡°Hello,¡± came a girl¡¯s voice, pausing before extending a palm towards me. One caked in so much sludge that a farmer sleeping in a field couldn¡¯t accrue so much dirt. ¡°Um, please don¡¯t be scared. Or stab me. I¡¯m¨C¡±


    And so I did what any princess would do.


    ¡°¨CHiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!¡±


    I bravely went to join Coppelia up the tree.

 Chapter 364: A Tale In The Making

    The girl wiped her face with a palmful of water from the stream.


    It was like dusting off a chimney. Very little happened.


    Regardless, I did my best to squint as she rose ¡­ from a healthy distance of several steps away. And what I saw was a girl no older than myself.


    Beneath the hint of messy bangs was a smattering of freckles and obvious relief. Combined with a linen dress which remained the colour of mud even after a few splashes had revealed the collar, she was the very picture of a commoner girl.


    If also a comely one.


    Large eyes. A small button nose. And a smile which functioned despite the fact she was still very much covered from head to toe in mud. Exactly the type of maiden constantly bothered by my knights until the girl¡¯s father or the knight¡¯s fianc¨¦ appeared.


    And here she was, terrorising innocent princesses instead.


    ¡°Ah, that feels better!¡± she said, flicking the water from her brows. ¡°Gosh, you¡¯ve no idea how long I¡¯ve been waiting to do that. Feels like I¡¯ve got mud behind my eyeballs after how long I¡¯ve had to look through all that.¡±


    I offered a non-threatening smile so she wouldn¡¯t harm me.


    It was the worst possible combination.


    A commoner, mud and the type of cheerful disposition to not realise this was a problem.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see ¡­ and would dousing oneself in mud happen to be a new fashion trend?¡±


    ¡°Not likely. This is just me dressing practically.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ did a rival hire you to sabotage an important reception, then?¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then I haven¡¯t been paid for it.¡± The girl offered an unassuming smile as she shook her head. ¡°Nah, this is just me hiding from the vampire.¡±


    ¡°¡­ The what now?¡±


    ¡°The vampire.¡±


    ¡°The vampire. As in ¡­ the blood sucking variety?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure how many other varieties there are. But yep. That¡¯s the type. It¡¯s a long story. But basically, I got kidnapped by a vampire, got tied down, escaped, there was a bunch of fire, then I came back and now I¡¯m doing my best to survive. It¡¯s been hectic.¡±


    I nodded. And then I leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°But are you sure it¡¯s a vampire?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Have you seen one before? There are stray nobility roaming in this area and it¡¯s easy to mistake them for each other.¡±


    ¡°Um, I¡¯ve never seen a vampire before ¡­ or much of nobility, either. But I¡¯m pretty sure this one¡¯s a vampire. He had fangs, pale skin, red eyes ¡­ dressed real pompously, cackled a lot and spoke something big about a nefarious scheme.¡±


    I rolled my hands, indicating for her to continue.


    She paused in thought.


    ¡°He turned into bats too.¡±


    Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my groan.


    It was a vampire. After all, if my nobility could turn into bats, then I¡¯d never see them again. They¡¯d just be playing with the ability all day.


    This was dire news.


    Any insult I made against a vampire was one which could also apply to the Grand Duchess. I was keeping them in reserve. And since I couldn¡¯t use the same insult twice, it meant I now had to come up with personalised ones just for the encounter ahead.


    That was far too much effort for vampire spawn.


    Yes ¡­ the weakest type of vampire available!


    A single glance around the forest made this clear. Aside from the occasional cloud of mist, it lacked all the chief ingredients for any respectably cursed stretch of woodland.


    That¡¯s not to say there was no danger, of course. On the contrary, it meant the worst of the littering was still to come.


    ¡°Yeah, I had the same reaction as you,¡± said the commoner, still chirpy despite her own words. ¡°Except with a lot more screaming. And snot. Not a nice thing to happen during supper with my little brother. And now I can¡¯t even get back to him. There¡¯s too much risk. Both to me and him.¡±


    As she spoke, she beckoned the cow over.


    In a feat betraying her profession, she directed the cow to begin washing away any thoughts of bloodletting that a pile of bones had hoped to impress upon it.


    ¡°I owe you big time,¡± she continued, speaking the words everyone was legally required to say. ¡°That tracker was after me. He was getting close, too. But he couldn''t smell me past the mud. I was planning on getting the jump on him when you showed up. All I can say is I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t need to put my sword through that test.¡±


    I looked at the sword in question, lying on the damp grass beside the stream.


    An unusually shiny sword.


    A curious thing. There was little in the way of embellishment or even fine craftsmanship. It was a sword with a simple, inoffensive design, the same that could be found forged by apprentices and sold by unscrupulous merchants as enchanted heirlooms everywhere.


    Except there was clearly a hint of magic about it. The fact that it drew my attention was proof of that.


    ¡°Your sword would have been wasted,¡± I informed her. ¡°A wight without manners is deserving only of a rock absolutely dropped on purpose. May I ask how you came to be in possession of it? Did you obtain it from the brigands who populate these woods?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I found it in a wheat field.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It was just there, sticking out of the ground when I was first about to escape the forest.¡±


    My mouth widened in horror.


    People were leaving swords lying in wheat fields?! That was abominable! I did not want to find a sword in my next berry ¨¦clat gateau! The strangler crabs used by assassins were more than enough!


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Weird, right?¡± The girl kneeled down and poked at her sword. ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting to find this thing while running, that¡¯s for sure. But I¡¯m glad I did. It woke me up. Next thing I did was head straight back into the woods. I¡¯ve been doing my best to be a nuisance to the bandits while finding something to help me kill the vampire before it does more ¡­ you know, vampire stuff. But that was before I met you. I can¡¯t tell you how happy I am. So listen, I have something important to¨C¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± I held up my hand. ¡°Repeat what you just said.¡±


    ¡°... Hm? Which bit? About the vampire?¡±


    ¡°No. About you. You mentioned a younger brother. What about your mother and father?¡±


    I received a look of puzzlement.


    ¡°My parents? Well, they already went the way of the double horned unicorn. But, uh, not because of poaching. I never knew them. Granny found me on the farm and raised me. How come?¡±


    I blinked at the girl.


    A farm girl.


    A peppy farm girl.


    An orphaned, peppy farm girl. Who found a sword lying in the ground. And who now faced a foe she couldn¡¯t possibly defeat but would still brave regardless.


    Suddenly, all thoughts of vampires were punted from my mind like fruit slimes during morning calisthenics.


    I stepped back instead, both hands covering my mouth.


    This girl ¡­


    Everything about her, from her looks to her very presence ¡­ was a recipe for a heroine.


    I turned at once to Coppelia for confirmation.


    To my horror, stars shone in her eyes, her hands clasped together and a smile filling her face as she looked at a source of future entertainment.


    Oh no.


    It was her.


    The doom of my kingdom.


    ¡°O-Ohoho ¡­ ?! Y-You poor thing! You must be so frightened! H-How brave you¡¯ve been to escape the hideous clutches of a dreaded vampire! Here, let¡¯s tidy you up! I¡¯ve ¡­ I¡¯ve a handkerchief sewn by a royal seamstress! I¡¯m told the royal family offers them to all its citizens! It¡¯s so luxurious it can wipe away both mud and work-related stress and ¡­ oh my¨CI just realised I don¡¯t even know your name!¡±


    The girl leaned away slightly, clearly overwhelmed by how soft my handkerchief suddenly dabbing away at her cheeks was.


    ¡°Uh ¡­ I¡¯m Milly.¡±


    ¡°Milly! Why, that is such a ¡­ an outrageously normal name.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. Granny gave it to me.¡±


    ¡°And what a delightful person Granny is! Why, I¡¯m certain that as a distinguished member of society, she must have spoken adoringly about all the public infrastructure projects the royal family has built over the years!¡±


    ¡°Well ¡­ no, she doesn¡¯t talk about stuff like that. Except to complain.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And that¡¯s how you know she¡¯s satisfied!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°Only those who are truly content are able to complain! It¡¯s the right of all to constantly seek higher standards. And that is something the kingdom welcomes. Were this Granholtz, then the Grand Duchess would have your poor grandmother in chains. But here, complaints are thoroughly abided!¡±


    ¡°I mean, even if they¡¯re abided, it doesn¡¯t always feel like they¡¯re listened to and¨C¡±


    ¡°Ohohoho?! That¡¯s because the kingdom strives hard to improve every corner and bedroom tower! Although you may not see the changes around you, I can personally guarantee they occur!¡±


    ¡°Um ¡­ is that so ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I¡¯m certain your dear grandmother would have no wish for anyone to jeopardise her constantly improving way of life ¡­ and that includes by accidentally swinging your sword in a direction others might perceive to be towards, say ¡­ Reitzlake Castle or the Royal Villa.¡±


    The girl blinked at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to happen.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± I clapped my hands in delight. ¡°My, that¡¯s wonderful!!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I mean, I¡¯m just going to sell this sword. Or maybe just put it back into the ground.¡±


    ¡°Hm? You¡¯ll do ¡­ what exactly?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was planning on taking down the vampire. But I¡¯m pretty sure that was never going to happen. I couldn¡¯t really even see myself beating the smaller undead guy. And you managed to do it with just a rock. That¡¯s way smarter than me. I was just going to whack him.¡±


    I was bewildered.


    Not because I disagreed with her. But because I didn¡¯t see why that would mean putting her sword back into the dirt. What heroine did that? It was just re-littering!


    And then ¡­ I gasped.


    Why, she no longer saw any reason to wield a sword ¡­ because I¡¯d taken away an important learning experience!


    If she couldn¡¯t gain invaluable confidence by defeating a henchman, then there was no scenario she could possibly defeat the vampire who¡¯d raised him!


    That ¡­ was excellent!


    ¡­  Or was it?


    This was utterly unprecedented.


    No heroine in the making had ever been knocked so thoroughly off the beaten trail ¡­ and yet rather than celebrating, I was filled with a deep sense of apprehension.


    Indeed ¡­ the enemy I knew was better than the one I did not!


    Every peppy farmer with a sword was dangerous ¡­ but the true peril came in not knowing who they were until they were already leading a peasant mob and already scratching the gates!


    If it wasn¡¯t her, it¡¯d be someone else!


    I¡¯d be willfully throwing away my own advantage!


    ¡°W-Wait a moment ¡­¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Before you go burying your sword again, I think it¡¯s worth considering keeping it ¡­ perhaps on a mantelpiece ¡­ to stare at ¡­ from a distance ¡­ after all, swords are dangerous weapons and it would be a terrible blot on your conscience if it were to fall into the wrong hands ¡­¡±


    The girl stared at me.


    I stared at her back. Remembering her face. Especially as that was the only part of her which was clear.


    ¡°Right ¡­ um, I can think about it later. It¡¯s actually not what¡¯s really on my mind right now.¡±


    ¡°Of course! You¡¯re worried about¨C¡±


    ¡°The vampire.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The vampire which I hadn¡¯t forgotten about.¡± I offered a nod, far more confident in handling undead than peppy farm girls my servants would now need to keep an eye on. ¡°In which case, you needn¡¯t worry. As blights whose actions far exceed any excessive tax policies, I will do my duty as a loyal servant of the kingdom.¡±


    A small pause met my declaration, followed by an appreciative smile.


    ¡°Yeah. I figured as much.¡± The girl pointed at the ring disgracing my finger. ¡°... I know what that means. You¡¯re an adventurer.¡±


    Suddenly, Coppelia pointed at me, her frown in stark contrast to my look of horror.


    ¡°Hey! She¡¯s not just an adventurer! ¡­ She¡¯s an S-rank adventurer!¡±


    ¡°C-Coppelia ¡­ ?!¡±


    The commoner gasped. Her eyes widened at my semi-loyal handmaiden¡¯s betrayal.


    ¡°Wow! Really? ¡­ I had no idea! Gosh, I don¡¯t know if that makes me the luckiest unluckiest girl ever. Now it means two incredibly strong people have come to my rescue!¡±


    I temporarily put my grief to one side.


    At least until I spoke to Coppelia regarding the good pillow she somehow always took.


    ¡°... Two?¡± I asked in confusion. ¡°Did a knight accidentally stumble into these woods?¡±


    ¡°Not a knight, no ¡­ but, uh, another vampire. I didn¡¯t just escape. I was rescued. Hard as it is to believe, there¡¯s actually another vampire here. But this one¡¯s good ¡­ I think. Or at least she¡¯s not very imposing. She looks like us. A sort of pale, but normal version of us. A girl. In pyjamas.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°... What colour pyjamas?¡±


    ¡°Pink.¡±


    And thus¨Cthe image of a young maiden scratching her tummy while reading a romance book fluttered across my mind. One who I¡¯d last sent off to work in the royal library.


    ¡°Really?¡± I was stunned. ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in a cave.¡±


    ¡°... Again?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about ¡®again¡¯ ¡­ but I put her there.¡±


    ¡°What? Why? Caves are not appropriate places for books. They¡¯re damp and filled with insects.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any books. Just her. I chose it because it¡¯s safe. Or at least safer than nowhere. Once I picked up this sword, I came back to help. Eventually, I found her hanging over a branch. I think there was an explosion.¡±


    I was bewildered.


    Even so, I was relieved to hear that the explosion had apparently already happened. Whatever my librarian was doing, she was doing it as a loyal subject.


    ¡°I see ¡­ ? In that case, please show me this vampire. I have matters of serious conversation to discuss with her. Also¨CI¡¯m certain she can be of assistance.¡±


    The commoner looked awkwardly to the side.


    ¡°Right, um, that¡¯s a problem.¡±


    ¡°Why is it a problem?¡±


    ¡°Well ¡­ I think she¡¯s dead.¡±

 Chapter 365: Secret Technique

    A cave in a forest.


    Small. Damp. Barren.


    Likely once occupied by a bear as well.


    Where it was now, nobody knew. Only that the reason it left was probably because of its new lodger.


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    I stared down at the figure lying before me.


    There she was. A fragile maiden with unblemished skin, silver hair and pink cotton pyjamas.


    Exactly as I¡¯d last seen her. Or at least her back profile.


    Resting upon her tummy, with her arms splayed and face down in the dusty ground, her awkward pose painted the perfect image of someone who¡¯d tripped over their own feet and then never bothered to rise again.


    Thus ¡­ I nodded in acknowledgement.


    Indeed, as I looked upon her lifeless form, it was all I could do but recognise her contribution to the world of drama.


    Were she gracing the stage of the Royal Arc Theatre, I had no doubt that the obligatory apples I threw to test every actor playing dead would go unacknowledged. The way she was simply lying motionless, disregarding even the soil caking her face was highly professional.


    I had no use for such a talent, of course. But I was delighted to know that if she desired a change of occupation, then other avenues existed for her to pursue.


    Moreover ¡­ as far as I was aware, vampires didn¡¯t leave corpses behind when they died.


    Instead, all that remained when they were laid to rest a second time were ashes and broken coffins.


    ¡­ But just in case, I also turned to Coppelia!


    ¡°What do you think ¡­ ?¡± I asked simply.


    My loyal handmaiden kneeled down, her eyes blinking as she closely studied the fallen vampire.


    Then, having learned from my own expert healing techniques, she poked the girl in the cheek.


    No reaction.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Coppelia, nodding as she diligently continued to poke her. ¡°Good news! She¡¯s not dead. I think.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s a relief. Do you feel a reaction to your poking?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I just think it¡¯s fun.¡±


    I nodded. That was understandable.


    ¡°Is she asleep, then? ¡­ Because if so, we¡¯ll need to bring her outside where I can conjure the bed. A pile of dirt is hardly appropriate for a maiden to get her beauty sleep, despite how much the baronesses swear by it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s sleeping, either. Otherwise she definitely would have started groaning to my pokes by now. Usually you do it after the 3rd one.¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me!? Why are you poking me when I¡¯m asleep?!¡±


    ¡°I mean, when you sleep, you sometimes stuff your face in the pillow just like how vampire girl looks now. Once you haven¡¯t moved for several hours, I sometimes poke you to see if you¡¯re still alive.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± I thought for a moment. ¡°In that case, thank you. Also, you may poke me earlier.¡±


    ¡°Will do~!¡±


    I nodded at Coppelia¡¯s diligence, then kneeled down to join her in poking my librarian¡¯s cheek.


    To my regret, but not surprise, my healing touch wasn¡¯t working on her. It was only natural. My angelic nature had little effect on a vampire other than to leave a faint dimple.


    ¡°Hmm. How peculiar. If she¡¯s neither dead nor sleeping, then what is she doing? Is she injured?¡±


    Coppelia picked the girl up by the scuff of the neck as though she were a lazing tabby cat.


    She peered underneath her.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see any injuries. Although it could be something inside her.¡±


    ¡°How curious ¡­ do vampires suffer illnesses?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s one of the perks of being a vampire. They pretty much repel every disease back towards where it came from. With blood sucking interest. Except maybe not this one. Her vampiric presence is so weak that even when I¡¯m poking her, I can barely feel it.¡±


    My hands clapped together in understanding.


    ¡°I see! My, how very adept of her! Her self defence mechanism is to evade all unwanted attention from nobility after her rare title by appearing even more pitiable than when we last saw her. That is ¡­ well, that is somewhat remarkable. I admit, I didn¡¯t think such a thing was possible.¡±


    Behind us, a village girl with a sword looked over from the opening of the cave.


    She was joined by a cow she was petting, who having been removed from the blood stained grass now appeared slightly less hungry than before.


    I wasn¡¯t certain which of the two I found more concerning.


    ¡°Um ¡­ by any chance, would you happen to already know each other?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Indeed, we do,¡± I answered. ¡°Although this kingdom is large, the world is small.¡±


    The farm girl paused.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to make sense. It only needs to be fair. But as glad as I am for our ample farmlands, it does mean they¡¯re all too often allowed to go unattended. Therefore, I ask that you return home to assume your life as a common farmer and absolutely nobody else. You may also take the cow.¡±


    ¡°Huh? You want me and Daisy to leg it?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t nod fast enough.


    Frankly, I hadn¡¯t a clue what this girl was going to get up to. All I knew was that the further she was away from accidentally slaying a vampire, the less likely she was to wield that sword for anything other than appropriate things.


    Such as gardening.


    ¡°Your assistance has been much appreciated. Especially with taming the cow. However, I cannot have village girls wandering behind me while carrying suspect swords found in the mud. That¡¯s a highly dangerous combination.¡±


    The girl blinked.


    She looked between the shiny sword attached to her hand and the cow beside her. Two starkly different career paths. Only one of which was beneficial to my family.


    ¡°It sounds like I¡¯ll be in the way,¡± she said, giving her sword a random jiggle. ¡°Which I 100% agree with. But I think I¡¯d feel bad about running away again. Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to, uh, lure out the vampire or something? ¡­ Because I think I can do that. As bait or something.¡±


    I was aghast.


    That was an incredibly ¡­ heroine thing to say! I had to avoid it at all costs!


    ¡°O-Ohohoho ¡­ that¡¯s ¡­ that¡¯s not necessary in the slightest! Like my loyal handmaiden said, I¡¯m ¡­¡±


    ¡°¨CAn S-rank adventurer!¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m a beautiful maiden blessed with a genius mind, a radiant aura and an unblemished smile. And I only require one of these to do away with a vampire who cannot put their immortality to practical use. Such as being a sleepless employee.¡±


    The commoner blinked at me, a dozen questions regarding my natural talents obviously flickering across her mind.


    Even so, her lips remained tactfully closed.


    I was impressed. She might be a farmer, but she already possessed more wit than any of my nobility ever displayed. Were she not so perilous to my kingdom, I¡¯d promote her on the spot.


    ¡°... Will she be okay?¡± she asked instead, pointing towards my collapsed librarian.


    ¡°Of course. This maiden might be a vampire, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve no means to rouse her.¡±


    ¡°Really? Will you use magic?¡±


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ no.¡± I offered a confident smile, hand upon my chest. ¡°I shall use a secret technique carefully honed over the years. With it, I¡¯m able to cure even the harshest of debilities. However, know that I absolutely cannot permit you to see such a forbidden thing.¡±


    An appropriate look of astonishment came across the girl¡¯s face.


    A moment later, she allowed her shoulders to fall with relief, knowing that I was now here to rescue her from a life of revolution. Perhaps if she was luckier, she¡¯d even return to her farm to find a newly made road where her barn used to be.


    ¡°... All right, Daisy! You heard the nice lady. Let¡¯s try to find your home, okay?¡±


    The cow looked up with a swish of its tail. It offered no complaint while being ushered away from the cave.


    Then, just before the commoner scooted out of sight of the entrance, she turned to offer a smile which still bore a few hints of mud.


    ¡°Thanks, Miss Adventurer,¡± she said brightly. ¡°I¡¯ll definitely remember this!¡±


    And with that, she was gone.


    For now.


    I waited until the sounds of her voice chatting with the cow faded. And then I waited a bit more. Once nothing could be heard but the mild breeze whispering into the cave, I nodded with satisfaction.


    Indeed, today was already a good day!


    I¡¯d practically averted calamity!


    There was still the matter of my drunken peasants, of course. Sooner or later, the alcohol numbing their ire would be spent. But so long as they were shorn of their natural leader, then all was well.


    But only if I didn¡¯t falter now.


    Thus¨CI returned my attention to my newest librarian.


    Lifeless, motionless and sprawled upon the floor, it was clear that this was no common ailment she suffered from. And while she was hardly the most terrifying vampire to have walked the shadows, the fact still remained that few things could easily wear her down more than the epilogue of A Summer Knight¡¯s Dream, Book 3.


    ¡­ Fortunately, this was nothing I couldn¡¯t fix!


    ¡°Coppelia.¡±


    ¡°Mmh~?¡±


    ¡°I require a macaron.¡±


    I nodded in seriousness ¡­ then held out my palm.


    Coppelia blinked.


    Then, she swiftly rummaged through her pouch of knick-knacks and emergency snacks, before finding me a sugary, stale and somewhat off-colour macaron.


    This would do.


    I leaned in and slid my palm beneath the face of the fallen maiden. A small bump of resistance greeted me as I pressed the macaron against the girl¡¯s lips.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Nngh ¡­ om .. nom ¡­¡±


    She began to stir while nibbling on the snack.


    Ohohohohohohohoho!


    I smiled in triumph.


    Indeed, why did it matter if a vampire was in a state which could baffle the most learned of clerics?


    I was an expert in the field of healing those in a state far worse than this!


    Namely ¡­ my older sister!


    Yes! I¡¯d brought back Clarise from the brink more times than I could count! When she failed to show up to dinner for the 3rd consecutive night in a row, it was all too often I inquired at her observatory only to find a mere shell whose existence was clinging onto the last tether!


    ¡°Uwaaah~ I can¡¯t believe that worked.¡±


    ¡°Ohohohohoho! Behold! The light which only a dose of sugar can provide! ¡­ When all else fails, remember this¨Csnacks are more than an indulgence! To fragile maidens, they are the lifeblood which runs deeper than our hearts! They feed the very soul!¡±


    Coppelia nodded enthusiastically.


    I was delighted. Should worse come to worst, she could bring me back from any witch¡¯s curse through a well-placed cupcake!


    Perhaps not the ones she kept in her pouch, true ¡­ but once we were done with this affair, every bakery and cr¨ºpe stall would be open for business once again!


    And so¨Cwe watched as Miriam Estroux, countess, librarian and vampire, with all the noble station afforded to her ¡­ slowly rolled onto her back like a small animal righting herself.


    Her eyes opened to an air more suitable for a tired ghost than a macabre creature of the night used to rising from a coffin to terrorise the innocents.


    In fact, she didn¡¯t rise at all.


    She simply remained on her back, blinking up at the ceiling.


    Coppelia helpfully waved her hand.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Miriam, finally noticing us right beside her. She blinked several more times. ¡°... How many years has it been?¡±


    ¡°572 years,¡± replied Coppelia. ¡°Everyone you know is gone.¡±


    ¡°Really? ¡­ That¡¯s odd. You both have very strong and familiar features.¡±


    ¡°My frown has descended through centuries,¡± I informed her. ¡°It will never falter or tarnish, no matter how many more will pass.¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°... Has it actually been 572 years?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Oh. That explains why my arms don¡¯t want to move. I normally feel less tired after my naps.¡±


    ¡°And what could have driven you to such a desperate nap? ¡­ Why, there¡¯s not even a pillow! If you¡¯d napped any longer, you¡¯d have woken up shaped like a wight!¡±


    Miriam looked up in thought.


    ¡°Everything exploded.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I drew holy runes into the ground. It was very volatile. Likely because the heavens look poorly on vampires appropriating their sacred symbols. I don¡¯t think it was my best idea.¡±


    I was stunned.


    ¡°You drew holy runes? ¡­ And it caused the heavens to create an explosion? That is wonderful! Can you do it again? They¡¯ve long since become accustomed to seeing their chapels burgled.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I could. But not if I can help it. Honestly, it¡¯s not a very pleasant experience.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. Then why would you do it?¡±


    ¡°To defeat Master Harkus.¡±


    ¡°... Who?¡±


    ¡°Master Harkus. He is a vampire. Specifically, the one who turned me into a vampire.¡±


    I blinked as a name was finally revealed ¡­ and also instantly forgotten.


    ¡°Truly? Why, I had no idea you were acquainted with this ruffian! Did you know he was here?¡±


    ¡°No. I only found out accidentally. Or so I thought. He has returned to this kingdom. I¡¯m told it¡¯s because he views my actions as a book hermit to not be in keeping with his traditional values as a scion of the night and ruler of the shadows. He believes it reflects poorly upon him.¡±


    I let out a shocked gasp.


    ¡°That¡¯s a scandalous belief to hold! There¡¯s nothing more regal than studying the learned writings of our peers from underneath a duvet where nobody can see what books we¡¯re actually reading!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I quite agree.¡±


    Miriam paused. A look of regret crept across her face.


    ¡°... I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, turning slightly away as much as she could. ¡°This isn¡¯t quite what I¡¯d planned. I had no intention of troubling you. Were I aware that Master Harkus would seek me out, I would not have lingered, nor allowed myself to take up your generosity.¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And what generosity do you refer to?¡±


    ¡°You allowed me a home where everybody is apologetic whenever they eat using a silver spoon in my presence. To become a librarian.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Yes, Countess Miriam Estroux. A librarian. And it is the job of a librarian to both read and catalogue books. Not to spare a thought for those so crass they¡¯d seek to disturb you from this important role. Rest assured, I shall not permit this spawn as lacking in ability as manners to chastise you, much less actively impede you. I will do away with him in a manner which befits his status as a pest.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°You wish to destroy Master Harkus?¡±


    ¡°No, I wish to roll my face in a pillow until the dent can be seen on the other side. But failing that, I¡¯ll accept offering the ashes of a gnat I can direct the complaint of my every farmer towards. This spawn has been busy inciting rebellion.¡±


    ¡°I see. That does sound very much like the sort of thing he would do. And so there¡¯s something I believe I should clarify before we continue this conversation. Master Harkus is not a spawn. He is a master vampire, cited to rise to the Nocturne Court. He is very powerful, very old and functionally immune to all normal attacks.¡±


    Miriam tried craning her face away more.


    This time, not out of regret, but with a tinge of embarrassment.


    ¡°... Um, not like me. Please do not use me as a reference.¡±


    I leaned slightly over her, my raised eyebrow bringing her gaze back.


    ¡°And as I said¨Ca spawn.¡±


    ¡°Master Harkus is¨C¡±


    ¡°An ascended flea. One who was bested by holy magic from an emaciated vampire, as your continued existence proves.¡±


    ¡°Rather than bested, I believe it would be more appropriate to say that he was so insulted by my attack that he was rendered unable to move. I don¡¯t think it will happen again. Which is a problem. You really do need holy magic to defeat a vampire. I¡¯m uncertain if your enchanted steel sword is enough. You will need a consecrated silver sword ¡­ or, well, sunlight, but in practice, that never kills vampires.¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And why is that?¡±


    Miriam shifted slightly, as though just the thought of it was enough to cause her to retreat.


    ¡°It¡¯s our most fatal weakness,¡± she said simply. ¡°As a result, no vampire ever allows themselves to be caught in a position where the sun is still overhead. Even Master Harkus would wait until nightfall before revealing himself.¡±


    I nodded.


    And then I stood up, before turning on my heel to head to my next destination. A deportation meeting with an unwanted leech.


    ¡°¡­ Is that so? In that case, I fail to see what the issue is.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    I noted the darkening light outside the cave. Dusk was here, and night was soon to follow.


    But that hardly mattered.


    After all¨C


    My smile was brighter than the sun.

 Chapter 366: A Royal Awakening

    I led the way, Starlight Grace in hand.


    It made little difference.


    Despite starlight grace¡¯s illuminating glare, it pierced the unnatural fog only as much as a dessert fork into a 14 layer cake likely down to just its 10th layer depending on how many of the new hires still needed to display their endurance.


    It¡¯d come suddenly and without warning. A white barrier so thick that the trees were now my worst nemesis, each dipping branch and wayward root trying to make up for the lack of effort in breaking my ankles earlier.


    And yet my reward for navigating it was an even less welcome foe.


    A squatting vampire whose very malice bled into the air I now breathed.


    Unseen crows laughed from their branches. Shadows flickered like stalking silhouettes. And despite the presence of the warming dusk somewhere lost overhead, all I could feel was a chill seeping into my skin, tickling the back of my neck.


    Something ominous was waiting ¡­ watching.


    And that meant I had only one concern on my mind.


    ¡°You¡¯re expanding the library ¡­ ?¡±


    Yes.


    I was utterly shocked.


    Beside me, my newly hired librarian nodded from beneath her conjured umbrella of ice.


    Despite the fog being thick enough to absorb the dipping rays of sunlight, she wisely chose to take no chances with whatever magic another vampire had chosen to summon.


    ¡°The details are still being decided,¡± said Miriam. ¡°I confess this isn¡¯t my forte. Until now, I¡¯ve been able to chisel out my own libraries from existing spaces. Actually building a library is quite daunting, even if it¡¯s just additional wings. However, I¡¯ve done my best to ensure it remains on budget.¡±


    I nodded, knowing full well the difficulties of working within a budget.


    After all, I had to keep firing stewards until one said yes.


    ¡°I see ¡­ that is, well, pleasantly surprising. The Royal Villa is no stranger to being expanded, of course. But this is usually in relation to my father¡¯s camembert cellar.¡±


    ¡°I believe the king also approved widening the camembert cellar, yes. But not before agreeing to my suggestion to expand the library. I believe he was already considering it, given the issues regarding the lack of space.¡±


    ¡°The lack of space?¡±


    I blinked in puzzlement.


    As far as I could recall, the shelves were not necessarily bursting at the seams.


    But then again, I paid them little heed, knowing they contained only the study materials my tutors struggled to find when they mysteriously went missing just before our lessons ¡­ or the poetry anthologies which wouldn''t go missing even when they were mysteriously tossed in a lake filled with blood piranhas.


    ¡°The library has no dedicated staff other than myself, but the stewards have kept an organised catalogue. It matches what I see. Most of the shelves are full. However, since I¡¯ll soon be requiring room for new titles, I felt that adding additional shelves was the only practical solution.¡±


    ¡°My, that¡¯s very proactive of you! Thank you for your efforts. Although by any chance ¡­ did you also suggest removing some books as well?¡±


    ¡°Removing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Those with neither historical nor artistic worth. Such as poetry books written at such a young age that they contain words which don¡¯t quite fully rhyme. Or indeed, exist in any dictionary.¡±


    ¡°Oh! In that case, I did mention that the poetry books took up 54% of the library¡¯s shelves. But the king didn¡¯t see this as an issue. Rather, he was happy to expand the library so that he could have space for transcriptions of every existing work. He wants them preserved for future generations.¡±


    Hmm.


    How odd.


    I didn¡¯t realise my spine could shudder like that.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see.¡± I offered a bright smile. ¡°As expected, my father is not so easily defeated.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°However, please rest assured that one way or another, there will be additional shelf space. I¡¯ve a literary connoisseur who will shortly help collect some of the poetry anthologies.¡±


    ¡°Really? Who is it?¡±


    ¡°The big guy~¡± said Coppelia, suddenly appearing as she hung upside down from a branch. ¡°He¡¯s a dragon.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°A dragon?¡±


    ¡°Mmh! She conned him into borrowing some of the poetry books so I could lounge here longer.¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me!¡± My mouth widened. ¡°You are not lounging here! You are my loyal handmaiden, whose duties may be different, but no less important than that of the countess¡¯s!¡±


    ¡°¡­ You¡¯re not denying you conned him, huh?¡±


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


    ¡°Ohohohoho! A dragon is a lawful entity! He has sealed his doom! If he wants to rid himself of them, he will have to pay me a hefty bribe!¡±


    ¡°Uwaaah~ extorting a dragon. That¡¯s always worked well.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. As creatures bound by contracts, they must accept whatever fate is agreed by their own words.¡±


    Miriam listened with a stunned expression.


    For a moment, her lips parted as the first of many questions tried to escape. They closed a moment later as she wisely accepted ignorance instead.


    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± she said, looking up in thought. ¡°A dragon will collect some of the poetry books. That¡¯s a little bit terrifying. But also a relief. I feared that I¡¯d underestimated the amount of space I require.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like you intend to make ample use of the library. May I ask what you hope to include that necessitates an expansion?¡±


    Miriam offered me a look of utmost seriousness. She raised her umbrella to reveal her brows.


    ¡°Work of culture.¡±


    She fell silent. As did I.


    Instead, through the sign language only learned by those who studied the same subject of impropriety secrets and scandal, an entire conversation passed through our eyes alone.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    I nodded. She nodded.


    ¡°You have done well,¡± I said simply.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Miriam smiled. ¡°I intend to make the library representative of the kingdom¡¯s taste in literature, including both fiction and non-fiction. It will be a place to celebrate all the greatest works admired by commoners and nobility alike.¡±


    ¡°That is a truly worthy ambition. I believe it is only fitting that we in positions of privilege never lose sight of the common bond which holds us all together¨Cthat of tales spoken in whispered tones. With that said, I worry about the consequences of the library¡¯s increased popularity. I wonder if there will be space to quietly read without disturbing others ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°There will be a private room hidden by a mirror door. Only we shall know of it.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°M-My!! How wonderful! ¡­ Of course, discretion is important. If my maids and tutors wished to indulge in the new works, I would never wish to make them feel uncomfortable by being concerned with formality over my presence.¡±


    ¡°There will be a wide variety of popular gateway works,¡± said Miriam with a fervent nod. ¡°I¡¯ve already placed a significant number of orders with the funds I¡¯ve been allocated. In addition, I also search for individual books using my own personal network. It was actually how I came to be here.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what book is it that drew you away from the library?¡±


    ¡°The Icy Duke''s Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame. The original manuscript.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°Truly? That ¡­ that scandalous book which I have never once read? Did ¡­ Did you find it?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes. My maid has it ¡­ I think. She comes and goes. But I believe it¡¯s currently in her possession.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I nodded, my excitement slowly fading. ¡°That doesn''t sound at all reassuring ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°You needn¡¯t fear. She is reliable, especially in times of crisis. I¡¯m deeply indebted to her¨Cas I am with you as well. Although I understand I¡¯ve been employed to do a job, I admit that I¡¯m also greatly enjoying my present life. It is fun.¡±


    I offered my finest princess smile.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ that makes me very pleased. You needn¡¯t change in that regard. There¡¯s a reason I order every servant to be happy. Joy equals productivity.¡±


    Then, I flickered away a puff of fog attacking my nose.


    ¡°... Indeed, which is all the more reason to dispose of those who¡¯d stand in the way of your new found contentment¨Cproviding we can find them. Are you quite certain this is the right way? I notice we seem to be walking in one direction.¡±


    Miriam nodded, her expression turning serious once again as she looked ahead.


    ¡°Walking in one direction is all we need. The fog doesn¡¯t extend that far. But to those without an invitation, they will never find the exit. However, I¡¯ve no reason to believe my invitation to Master Harkus¡¯s abode has been rescinded. We should be there soon.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. And what are we expecting from this particular vampire¡¯s lair, then? A darkened castle teeming with bats and sanguine windows straight from a brochure?¡±


    ¡°Um, it¡¯s not a castle, no. It¡¯s actually a manor.¡±


    ¡°A manor? ¡­ Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, although I¡¯m not an expert, I believe most vampires don''t actually own their own castles. They¡¯re quite conspicuous.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my groan.


    All this effort to use my own two feet and not even a darkened castle to use as reference for my goblin foreman to know exactly what not to build on Soap Island.


    ¡°Is it at least a particularly evil looking manor?¡± I asked hopefully.


    ¡°I would say so, yes. Or rather, it was.¡±


    ¡°It was?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s, well, it might be gone now ¡­¡±


    A moment of silence passed.


    ¡°Did you blow it up?¡± I asked, blinking.


    ¡°No, I set it on fire.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Coppelia, dropping down from the branches at last. ¡°She¡¯s just like us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s patently untrue. We¡¯ve never set anything on fire.¡± I paused as I went through my memories. ¡°... Deliberately.¡±


    Coppelia giggled. I hardly saw why. Any evidence we¡¯d inadvertently caused the occasional tower or vault to spontaneously ignite was also destroyed in the process.


    And if the master rodent was fortunate, that list would also include his lair.


    Thus¨Cwe continued onwards, trundling through the unnatural fog.


    Eventually, the white barrier thinned along with the oaks attempting to headbutt our faces and the silhouette of our destination revealed itself. Yet far from the sight of even a slightly evil manor to roll my eyes at, what appeared before my innocent eyes was instead a squatter¡¯s dream paradise.


    There, beyond a line of trees, was the clear remains of a hovel.


    A hazy dusk hovered over the shell of a building made prettier by whatever flames had recently engulfed it. Every window and doorway was a peek into rooms furnished by ashes, while the rooftop was a chasm entirely.


    Here and there, shafts of timber so charred that even the flames had turned their nose away had crashed through an entire section of the wall, revealing a gallery of portraits now boasting images of the barren wall they hanged upon.


    All except for one.


    Pwam. Pwam. Pwam.


    A new portrait as colourful as a rainbow.


    And it was being hammered into place against the least scorched part of the wall by a ruffian covered in a layer of sweat.


    Amidst the ruins of a vampire¡¯s illegal abode, hoodlums no different from those learning to harvest wheat were diligently hard at work.


    However, while this would normally mean pillaging the burned hovel to its last melted spoon, they were instead sweeping up the ashes with brooms, replanting ceiling beams and lifting away the burned furniture.


    I took a step back, Starlight Grace lowering by my side as I looked on in shock.


    ¡°... Is this the vampire¡¯s lair?¡±


    Miriam nodded from beneath her umbrella.


    She stayed within the fog, but shared the same look of discomfort I did


    ¡°It is, yes ¡­ a foulness corrupts the very air. I regret that I was unable to see it burned to its foundations.¡±


    ¡°Being burned to its foundations would have been worse. It¡¯d mean that whatever replaced it would look even more ghastly.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    I pointed at a stack of tables and cabinets sitting upon the grass.


    Each was clearly waiting to be carried into the hovel. Furniture that had been plundered from different barns, with few sharing the same size, colour or workmanship. The only similarity was the lack of varnish and care over their condition.


    ¡°2.5/10,¡± I declared. ¡°Why ¡­ I can scarcely believe the disrespect on display! You went through the effort of doing away with whatever mould was feeding upon the walls, and this squatter responds by refilling the open space with mismatching furniture!¡±


    Indeed, I was utterly incensed!


    If my librarian decided to take a moment from her busy schedule expanding the Royal Villa, then I didn¡¯t expect such charity to be repaid through hiring command brigands as decorators!


    ¡°Oh.¡± Miriam blinked as she dared to lean a few inches forwards. ¡°You¡¯re right. The wardrobes do rather stick out against all the ash and burned walls, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They do more than stick out. This is a betrayal of expectations. Here I was, wondering what scheme would require any self-respecting vampire to require the use of forest bandits as goons ¡­ and it turns out that they were simply the ones with the most agreeable pricing options!¡±


    ¡°In that case, I believe Master Harkus must have negotiated a very favourable bargain. These men have had their minds dominated.¡±


    I threw up my arms in disbelief.


    ¡°... So why would he choose these? Why not an interior designer? Why not a child tasked with matching the same two colours?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely certain. But while Master Harkus has always been frivolous, he has never been aimless. I fear there¡¯s a deliberate reason for this.¡±


    ¡°Incorrect. There is no reason for a lack of standards. And a vampire who¡¯s lived long enough to know this has even fewer causes to disregard it. Now, where can I find this master of hoodlums?¡±


    ¡°Um ¡­ well, given the exorbitant amounts of darkness I can see lifting from the manor, I believe he likely has a crypt below.¡±


    ¡°I agree with vampire girl,¡± said Coppelia, her neck craning as she blinked at the orange sky. ¡°You can¡¯t see it, but it¡¯s like a cloud of evil. It¡¯s amazing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no doubt it is. It takes a true scoundrel to keep a royal entourage waiting while he loiters in a crypt. The fact he isn¡¯t here to welcome us with a dramatic speech is his worst crime yet.¡±


    Miriam shook her head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe he¡¯ll offer such a pleasantry. Not while the last light still lingers. He¡¯s likely still resting. Although we can go many nights without sleep, most higher vampires choose to actively treat the daylight hours with disdain.¡±


    I clapped my hands together and smiled.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Then it seems we¡¯ll need to remind this vampire of his responsibilities as a host.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I agree.¡± Miriam paused ¡°¡­ Out of curiosity, what does that actually involve?¡±


    I offered my warmest smile.


    ¡°Ohohohoho ¡­ why, that¡¯s simple. I intend to wake the dead.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    She looked at Coppelia as she began stretching her legs. Then at me as I began stretching my arms.


    A moment later¨Cshe let out a tiny groan.

 Chapter 367: Requiem In Scarlet

    Master Harkus of Revarin was 857 years old.


    He was practically in the spring of his unlife. Others might disagree, of course. But others were also dead. As a vampire, he outlived them all. And if they were fortunate, it wasn¡¯t simply because he murdered them. Although that did frequently happen.


    Because for all the things vampires were, open to criticism was not one of them.


    A vampire¡¯s pride was a thing more delicate than the windows of any cathedral. Yet rather than a weakness, it was their greatest strength.


    In order to stand atop the hierarchy of the world, it was also necessary to act the part.


    To be as regal as the moon upon its throne of night, accepting neither argument nor judgement from any creature or thing which could dare utter a word in their presence.


    With one exception.


    Other vampires.


    Despite all the creatures which wandered above and below the surface, vampires were the only peers they themselves accepted. Not even dragons were worthy of such an accolade. For all their legend, they still fell prey to the allure of gold. That made them little more than magpies with larger tails.


    But those blessed with the Sanguine Gift didn¡¯t need crowns.


    They didn¡¯t even need blood.


    A vampire never needed to lower themselves like a beggar collecting scraps for alms. They required nothing to survive. Yet although starvation would never find them, that didn¡¯t mean they never hungered. It simply wasn¡¯t a warm meal they craved.


    Instead ¡­ they cared only for the cacophony of the Oldest Dance.


    They coined it, long before lords, dukes and kings opted to steal it to describe their own petty acts of mischief. Because where humans skidded, stumbled and coughed in hope of tripping a single heel, vampires swept away the carpet and all upon it.


    And what they revealed as the walls came crashing down was a tapestry of scheming.


    A web so tangled that few could know where one plot ended and another began.


    It was the great masquerade. The unending game. A pathway to recognition.


    After all, vampires respected nothing if not wholesale destruction using the least possible effort. And in this, Master Harkus was well ahead of his rivals.


    His exploits in the Rozinthe Imperium was proof of that.


    Back when the Grand Duchy of Granholtz was greater in name than in territory, it was the finest empire the continent had ever known. Whether it was the height of midday or the small hours of the night, its grand plazas teemed with opportunity.


    There were markets flush with coins minted that very morning. Basilicas housing the wise and the foolish. Amphitheatres with more songs than there were ears to accommodate the endless talent.


    It was the centre of civilisation, overlooked by the shadows of mage towers an empress sat imposingly upon her throne like a statue come to life. A land of prosperity, risen to the sound of trumpets, marching boots and endless victory.


    ¡­ And it had all crumbled to a single whisper.


    That was the night of nights. As an empire slept, a plague awoke. And all it took was ridding the streets of the damnable cats which gnawed ceaselessly upon his robes.


    Because while humans knew fear, felines apparently did not.


    Master Harkus never included that point. But he had no need to.


    His curated version was a tale which left his audience mesmerised greater than any [Dominate Will] could achieve. And so he obliged like the gentleman he was, ensuring that every ear could listen and every voice pay tribute as he repeated his expert narration again and again ¡­ until eventually, for the very first time¨C


    Clink


    A glass came down, lightly echoing around the crypt.


    ¡°Master Harkus,¡± said the bewitching lady opposite his table. ¡°Your triumph over the Rozinthe Imperium was a truly monumental affair.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mistress Katarine. In which case, allow me to provide more details about¨C¡±


    ¡°And because it was so magnificent, I¡¯m certain Lord Nosferatu is pleased with your success. However, as our patron god is no doubt omniscient and therefore always listening, I believe it¡¯s best not to offer him a tale he¡¯s already heard before. Too many times. In the past hour alone.¡±


    Beside her, the only man whose powdered wig was more glossy than his swirled his glass of oak matured blood. He gave it a sip, then deliberately lowered his glass down as well.


    ¡°I agree with the good mistress,¡± he said, idly gazing at his surroundings. ¡°We all enjoy a fair boast at this table. Yet it¡¯d simply be a waste if such a compelling tale was told so often that our spawns hear it before they¡¯re even made. They should hear it directly from the vampire himself.¡±


    Master Harkus offered a small chuckle ¡­ all the while planning which order their heads would roll into his coffin. It was the hardest decision he¡¯d ever made.


    Mistress Katarine of Renigall and Master Florian of Astra.


    Both wore a smile of envy as red as the blood they¡¯d wasted upon their lips.


    How the two pretenders had crawled their way into the Nocturne Court, he would never know. All he knew was that one was required to die for their seat to be vacant.


    In true vampire spirit, he¡¯d need to wait for another to arrive so he could murder at least three.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± he said in a jovial tone. ¡°It¡¯s so rare to be visited by such esteemed members of the Nocturne Court. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve little to offer in terms of refreshments. But in words of entertainment, I have plenty.¡±


    ¡°So you do,¡± said Master Florian with a nod. ¡°But rest assured, we haven¡¯t come to monopolise either. Not when greater refreshments and a larger audience is waiting to greet you. We came to inform you that the Nocturne Court has convened and made a decision.¡±


    Master Harkus paused, the button beneath the table ready to accidentally guillotine their heads instead of calling for more drinks untouched for just a few moments longer.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Oh? There was a meeting?¡±


    ¡°There was, yes. All the most notable vampires were in attendance.¡±


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Last month.¡±


    ¡°How curious ¡­ I believe I was there, no?¡±


    ¡°You were. But we had another meeting. Directly after you left. It was to discuss your application for induction as a full member of the Nocturne Court.¡±


    Master Harkus sat back slightly, surprised at the expediency.


    ¡°Is that so? I was under the impression these things took time. As well as a vacancy at the table.¡±


    ¡°Time has already been taken. Believe it or not, consideration for your inclusion was first submitted the moment the flames began to take Rozinthe¡¯s capital. Needless to say, the utter collapse of civil society, the famine and the hundred years of bloody war which occurred afterwards significantly escalated the speed of the vetting process.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see ... and the vacancy?¡±


    ¡°Mistress Mirleena sadly passed away a fortnight ago.¡±


    ¡°That is terrible,¡± said Master Harkus, stunned that the paladin order he¡¯d tipped off was actually successful. ¡°How did she perish?¡±


    ¡°It was most unfortunate. She¡¯d survived an assault by a group of paladins who¡¯d somehow stumbled upon her well-hidden lair. Yet during her relocation, she was discovered by one of the Sonnenritter. The 3rd, I believe.¡±


    A shudder ran through every vampire in the crypt.


    A feat only achievable by mention of the Holy Church¡¯s very own clandestine organisation.


    Sisters were the natural enemies of all vampires. But the Sonnenritter were a blight so unholy that it was a shock they didn¡¯t burn beneath daylight swifter than vampires did. Even among them, however, the 3rd was known to be particularly experienced in matters related to their kind.


    ¡°I grieve for her passing,¡± said Master Harkus, the lie coming as easily as his look of sorrow. ¡°Mistress Mirleena was ever a stalwart friend. I regret never having taken up her offer to dominate a kraken into slapping itself.¡±


    Mistress Katarine offered a respectful nod.


    ¡°As do we all. However, there is an eternity to mourn and little time to fill up a vacancy. You understand, I hope, the¨C¡±


    Bwoomph.


    All of a sudden, a crashing noise reverberated throughout the crypt.


    It was like something very heavy had been dropped. Despite the amount of earth which existed between here and the surface, the sound was so clear that it left a slight ringing.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± said Master Harkus swiftly. ¡°My manor is currently undergoing renovations.¡±


    Mistress Katarine nodded, gracefully ignoring the interruption.


    ¡°It is fine ¡­ as I was saying, I hope you understand the peril in allowing a seat to remain unclaimed for too long.¡±


    ¡°I do, yes. Not every vampire respects due process. Some consider it a bore worth murdering over.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, and truth be told, I do not resent those who do. Bureaucracy goes hand-in-hand with vampiric matters. And this doesn¡¯t always garner a favourable reputation. However, the formal process is necessary. It is no small thing to be promoted to the governing organisation of the shadows themselves. There are responsibilities. And both Master Florian and I personally vouched for your character to uphold them.¡±


    Master Harkus sat up straighter, all the while gently lifting his foot away from the raised tile to activate the window pointing directly at the opposite side of the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m deeply touched. For what it¡¯s worth, I have always held both of you in the highest regards. If it is your decision to accept me into the Nocturne Court, then I will humbly accept this great honour.¡±


    Suddenly, a pause.


    Master Florian adjusted a loose strand in his powdered wig. He did it until Mistress Katarine cleared her throat. Repeatedly.


    ¡°It is true that a preliminary decision has been made for your acceptance,¡± he said, his intonation needlessly measured. ¡°There¡¯s still paperwork which needs to be completed, of course. You understand.¡±


    ¡°Naturally, I do.¡±


    ¡°However, with that said ¡­ there are some outstanding issues. Your spawn, for example.¡±


    Master Harkus laboured to keep his smile intact.


    A difficult thing when his last memories of her was blasphemy in the form of an explosion which did considerably more harm to his psyche than his body.


    Bwooooomph.


    ¡­ And even more so when another crashing sound filled the crypt.


    ¡°My apologies once again,¡± said Master Harkus, his hand curling into a fist beneath the table. ¡°My ¡­ assistants are not known for their handiwork.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a common problem,¡± replied Master Florian amiably. ¡°You can dominate a mind to make them believe they¡¯re an excellent plumber, but that won¡¯t help them with their actual handiwork. You needn¡¯t worry. We¡¯ve all tried that route.¡±


    ¡°Indeed we have ¡­ now, about my spawn. You refer to Miriam, I take it?¡±


    ¡°I do, yes. This ¡­ well, chatter about her not being very traditional in her choice of subversive activities isn¡¯t a disqualifying fault. But it is a distraction. While most of the Nocturne Court find her actions to be amusing, I fear that such talk would be an unnecessary cloud during your ascension.¡±


    Master Harkus nodded.


    ¡°I see. Your consideration is appreciated. And I am happy to offer good news in that regard. I have actually spoken with Miriam concerning her activities. It is, after all, the reason why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Goodness me. Then that¡¯s excellent. How did they go?¡±


    ¡°Splendidly. In fact, I believe that one more conversation is all that¡¯s needed to truly instil in her any concerns you might have regarding her behaviour.¡±


    ¡°Well, that would be most ideal! It would mean Mistress Katarine and I can remain to formally announce your ascension. Providing, of course, that we¡¯ve reassurances from your spawn that her activities take on a slightly more ¡­ well, sinister nature going forwards.¡±


    Master Harkus¡¯s smile strained at what was being suggested.


    ¡°... You wish to meet her?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d only be brief. Hardly an interview. I imagine just a minute or two is enough. Really, we just want to be able to say we¡¯ve met her so that we can personally help assuage any rumours the malcontents would hope to continue. There will be many envious of your new position. But it¡¯s one you¡¯re more than qualified for. You scored extremely highly against our candidate evaluation criteria.¡±


    It took all his willpower to stop himself from immediately scouring the forest.


    That was an activity he¡¯d actively hoped to avoid. Miriam was proving elusive, to the extent that even the trapper he¡¯d raised to find her had yet to offer him any news. All he knew with any certainty was that she hadn¡¯t left the vicinity. Or died.


    At least until he found her.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said calmly. ¡°I¡¯m certain Miriam would be delighted to meet you. It would be good for her to meet more of her kind. She has, as the rumours suggest, been somewhat reclusive. However, since she also represents me, I can assure you that¨C¡±


    Bwoooooooooomph!


    Suddenly, every vampire present reached out to hold onto the table as the crypt itself shook.


    A smattering of dust fell from the ceiling, caking shoulders and thoroughly embarrassing a vampire in the midst of what was very much an informal but also formal interview regarding his rise to the Nocturne Court and eventually the entire world order.


    ¡°Goodness!¡± Mistress Katarine¡¯s scarlet eyes widened. ¡°Master Harkus, what is that abominable racket? Are you renovating the manor or demolishing it?¡±


    He barely had time to offer an excuse.


    In that moment, one of the brigands he¡¯d dominated awkwardly came down the steps.


    With his eyes hazy and less than half of his faculties working, he didn¡¯t even have the wits to wear the look of terror he should rightfully be wearing for being in the presence of three master vampires.


    ¡°My lord. There are guests. I¡¯ve been told that you¡¯d want to know this.¡±


    Master Harkus¡¯s mouth widened.


    ¡°Guests? ¡­ What guests? Is it more of my kind?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Is it more vampires,¡± he said, aggrieved.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, my lord.¡±


    Master Harkus looked at his two peers.


    Both of them offered unknowing shakes of their heads. Neither seemed impressed. He didn¡¯t blame them. His barrier was one which not even the greatest of mages should be able to easily avoid.


    ¡°Well, what are they doing? ¡­ What is that awful noise I¡¯m hearing?¡±


    The brigand paused, requiring every morsel of his wits to piece together a reply.


    ¡°They¡¯re throwing furniture.¡±

 Chapter 368: A Tolling For The Lost

    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    I carefully studied the flower vase presented for my inspection.


    Barren and tasteless. Just like the withered daffodil within.


    With one leg crossed over the other, I sat upon the edge of a dining table while counting the sheer number of scratches that made up the pottery. Mostly because of the curious sheen which flattered the vase, courtesy of a twilight sky.


    Shorn of a roof, the first stars twinkled overhead, their light rubbing elbows against a brush of lavender as evening faded towards night. It was a sight gentle enough for me to almost forgive the workmanship before me.


    Almost.


    ¡°Unsalvageable,¡± I declared with a flick of my wrist. ¡°Next in the queue.¡±


    Before me, the hoodlum holding the flower vase winced as Coppelia reached out for the vase.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    The flower vase vanished into the horizon, easily sent through a window now considerably widened owing to the number of chairs which had enlarged it.


    And ¡­ ah, what did I have here?


    Yet another chair.


    ¡°Hmm ¡­¡±


    I leaned in to study it.


    This one was new. A berg¨¨re chair upholstered with a cushion, carefully patterned with shapes indistinguishable from the stains of a tavern floor. Likely because that¡¯s where it¡¯d been stolen from.


    I gave it a nod. And then flicked my wrist.


    ¡°Unsalvageable. Next in the queue.¡±


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    With a gulp, the next hoodlum stepped up, this time with a small cabinet.


    My judgement was immediate.


    Whichever barn it¡¯d been stolen from, it¡¯d either been home to a flock of highly peckish hens. Or a queue of hoodlums whose nails nervously tapped at whichever furniture they were holding while waiting for their turn, their faces creased in different stages of muscle pain as they held the various bits of tableware, ornaments and furnishings to their chests.


    More than once, a back or a knee audibly creaked along with a groan. And for good reason.


    Nobody deserved to be forced to decorate with such a poor catalogue available.


    Whether it was mismatching colours, unvarnished surfaces or simply things with holes in them, what I saw was an unending lack of standards more galling than the worst priceless brooch any baroness at my mandatory tea parties could spend their entire family fortune purchasing for me.


    In fact ¡­ there was only one joy to be seen.


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    Yes.


    A certain clockwork doll¡¯s expression as she merrily tossed furniture into the designated pile off into the distance¨Cthe exact location to be determined by the hoodlums who will gather them up.


    I expected them to work with the same diligence as my loyal handmaiden.


    After all, they were currently here for the same purpose we were.


    Desperately needed renovations.


    Ohohohohoho!


    Indeed, a vampire¡¯s lair was more than just a place of darkness!


    It was an abode shamelessly raised from the stolen wealth of whichever kingdom it blighted. And while few vampires dared to claim the mantle of royalty while wandering princesses were there to deny it, this still didn¡¯t preclude them from living out their fantasies.


    As such, their lairs were as famous as the cursed treasures they contained.


    Darkened castles rich with heritage, blood soaked carpets and unsmiling portraits. Parapets and towers illuminated amidst the fog by a shriek of lightning. A visage of bleak walls and despair, broken only by orange windows aglow like laughing pumpkins, inviting the foolish and the weak into the waiting maw beyond.


    This recently burned down barn ¡­ absolutely wasn¡¯t that.


    But that didn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t be.


    Especially with such enthusiastic help.


    ¡°Oooooh~!¡± Coppelia raised a hand to her brows, peering into the distance. ¡°That cabinet was a new record. Not in distance. But in feeling. I could taste the crunch from here!¡±


    With a nod, she turned to the queue and went to her tip-toes. As she began to point, hoodlums began to recede in height.


    ¡°Alrighty! You over there! The one trying your best to hide! Congrats! You get to jump the queue!¡±


    Immediately, hoodlums began to edge away from a colleague holding another small cabinet to his chest. His shoulders dropped momentarily, his scarred face a mosaic of regret before he waddled his way towards us without rest. He gave a small groan as he presented his burden.


    This time, I wore a smile of delight.


    Indeed ¡­ for Coppelia to order around hapless minions was a sign of her progression!


    As the handmaiden to a princess, she was no mere servant. She was also my voice.


    And also my arm.


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    I nodded with pride as the renovations smoothly progressed. And although every hoodlum shuddered with anticipation at their furniture being judged by a princess, all would have their turn.


    After all, the vampire squatter had chosen this forest for a reason.


    Here was the exact part of my kingdom which a creature of darkness had deemed optimal for building his own hovel. A corner judged by a master lout to be worthy of the lowest living standards.


    And that meant ¡­ an opportunity!


    Ohohohoho!


    Indeed!


    While lesser princesses would tremble and never think of it again, I was nothing if not a beacon of enterprise¨Cand I knew that so long as my kingdom was as fair as my skin, malcontents would continue finding their way here to nibble at it.


    Thus ¡­ instead of constantly seeking them out, I¡¯d simply lure them here instead!


    Yes, rather than merely tear down this hovel and close my eyes, I¡¯d instead replace it with every delinquent''s dream!


    ¡­ A seemingly abandoned fortress!


    Somehow forgotten by every map, civil servant and farmer I¡¯d build a monument to a once proud miscreant now fallen into disrepair. An immaculately crafted replica of vanity complete with creaking towers, overgrown vines and broken statues, fit to be inhabited by every schemer who wished to imperil my kingdom ¡­ and oh my, what would they find as soon as they stepped on the welcoming mat?


    Indeed, a trap door leading directly into an inescapable dungeon!


    Ohohohohohohohohoohoo!!


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Why ¡­ it was so simple!


    The very idea only a princess whose mind was unburdened by thoughts of both cost and practicality could make a reality!


    Instead of wasting time and resources on an actual fortress to ward away future hoodlums, I¡¯d instead lure them into 99 floors of bespoke traps borrowed directly from the tunnels beneath the Royal Villa!


    Frankly, it was a shock why nobody had considered this sooner.


    Given how swiftly caves and ruins were occupied by troublemakers, to offer a modest fortress would be like drawing moths to an open flame ¡­ and the very first to sample this work-in-progress could be the very one who helped identify this promising new site.


    Flutterflutterflutterflutterflutter.


    The very moment the brush of lavender dipped from the horizon, it was replaced by the sight of darkness.


    Not from the night sky. But the shadow of a thousand bats.


    They burst forth from a balcony overlooking the dining chamber with neither warning nor fanfare. A veritable stream of shadow which swiftly became a tarp over our heads, before suddenly converging together into a pulsating ball at the front of the queue.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°Put. Down. The. Plates.¡±


    There he was.


    A vampire in the guise of a man whose face was both aged and remarkably smooth.


    And yet despite the fangs which peeked from his grimace, the first thing I noticed was his posture. Chin high. Back straight. One hand upon his waist, elbow up as though to hold up a cloak, while the other grasped at an invisible sword by his side.


    The very picture of nobility.


    Literally so.


    This was the standing portrait pose. And yet even without his vampiric features, I could have picked him out amongst an entire soir¨¦e.


    After all¨C


    Everybody would be openly jeering him.


    Ohohohohoho!


    A court tunic which had gone out of style several decades ago! Ashen white hair elaborately curled in the manner of retired admirals hoping to hide a balding patch with a powdered wig! Breeches so tight that they functioned only to funnel blood away from his legs!


    Why, he was practically a caricature fit for the stage!


    ¡°Ah ¡­ Ah ¡­. Aaahhhhhh!¡±


    Little wonder, then, that against this fashion criminal, all the nearby ruffians could do was flee.


    Finding some inner instinct which no vampire¡¯s magic could mute, ornaments and furniture were dropped on the spot, appropriately smashing into easily sweepable pieces as they left to busy themselves with collecting the already thrown bits and pieces outside.


    The vampire didn¡¯t seem to care.


    His gaze was set wholly on the tableware in Coppelia¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Those are my favourite plates,¡± he said, his crimson eyes narrowing. ¡°Put them down.¡±


    Coppelia blinked.


    Then she looked at me. I looked at the plates in question. White ceramic. Beautifully painted. Blue floral motifs.


    ¡­ But also not porcelain.


    Thus, I offered her a nod. And also a flick of my wrist.


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    The vampire watched silently as a stack of stoneware plates were tossed through the window and towards the nether, joining several other piles of similarly discarded plates. He then wrinkled his nose, beat away a cloak which didn¡¯t exist and gestured flamboyantly towards everything and everyone.


    I was in full agreement.


    It all needed to go.


    ¡°That was ill-advised,¡± he said, his every syllable stretched like a worm wriggling to escape. ¡°But perhaps I¡¯ve none but myself to blame, rare as it is for me to admit fault. It appears I was mistaken. The one benefit I saw of my manor being engulfed in flames proved untrue. I see rodents are still present.¡±


    I blinked in surprise.


    ¡°Hm. How curious. It seems I was mistaken too. I was under the impression that vampires couldn¡¯t see their reflection. Yet it seems you must have caught yourself in a mirror.¡±


    The vampire slowly raised a brow.


    ¡°Ah. Such nostalgia. It¡¯s been countless centuries since I was last insulted by a mortal girl. Particularly before I even began to hint at how thoroughly irritated I am. I almost forgot to be surprised.¡±


    ¡°Well, you clearly forgot how to offer an appropriate welcome as well. Why, the only carpet I see laid out before me is the black scorch mark on the floor.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯d prefer, I can have it replaced. I¡¯m certain the ashes of random girls wandering into a vampire¡¯s abode will do just fine. But I suppose you know that, given that nobody would dare pass through my barrier without reason. So tell me¨Care you the latest heroine ordained to slay me?¡±


    My mouth widened in horror.


    ¡°How dare you. That is an outrageous accusation.¡±


    ¡°... What?¡±


    ¡°I am a princess. Not a heroine. There is a vast difference. Furthermore, know that the reason you don¡¯t face the latter is because of my exceptional good will! Had you been confronted by a certain farm girl, not only would you have been fated to turn to dust, but you¡¯d also be eternally remembered as the failed vampire who officially sealed her rise. That is humiliating.¡±


    The vampire¡¯s eyes narrowed further.


    His hand almost seemed to flinch from his waist, but he did nothing else.


    ¡°A princess,¡± he said, making utterly no notion of bowing or immediately walking into a stake as decorum demanded. ¡°How quaint. I¡¯ve known more than I can count, so you must accept my apologies ¡­ Your Highness. But as much as I¡¯d normally relish the opportunity to enjoy my fill of royal blood, I happen to be exceptionally busy right now.¡±


    ¡°A scandalous notion. Nothing can possibly be more important than draining my blood.¡±


    ¡°On a normal night, perhaps so. But you happen to have interrupted me during something very sensitive. I¡¯m on the cusp of ascending to the Nocturne Court.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°My, why didn¡¯t you say so! I do apologise! ¡­ Had I known you were at threat of being recognised as a greater rodent, I would have come to avert your embarrassment earlier!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be embarrassed about, Princess. The Nocturne Court is the governing power of all vampires. To be raised amongst its ranks is the highest aspiration of my kind. And this means that for once, I do not have the time to indulge in idle chatter.¡±


    ¡°I agree. You¡¯ve other matters of importance to attend to. Beginning with tidying. There¡¯s an endless amount you can assist with. You needn¡¯t be picky. Everything needs to go.¡±


    The vampire raised his fingertip.


    ¡°In that case¨Callow me to assist.¡±


    Suddenly, a strand of blood seeped out from beneath his nail like a weave of magic.


    Blood magic.


    ¡°I am Master Harkus of Revarin,¡± he added after the briefest pause, introducing himself as the minimum of courtesy demanded. ¡°Now, please excuse me for my brusqueness. But I¡¯m going to murder you now.¡±


    I held out my palm.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to wait for. We are done.¡±


    ¡°Indeed we are. But I believe you¡¯ve still unfinished business elsewhere.¡±


    The vampire looked at me in unabashed suspicion.


    ¡°Nnngh ¡­¡±


    A moment later¨Cit became a look of utmost exasperation as he turned his gaze downwards.


    There, crawling out from beneath the dining table was a maiden in pink pyjamas. She looked up, yawned and rubbed her eyes.


    ¡°That ¡­ was the worst 5 minute nap I ever experienced.¡±


    The master vampire recoiled as though struck by a glass of holy water.


    In an instant, all traces of his faux noble demeanour vanished, replaced by the same look of horror as everyone to glance at his cutlery set. All unburnished brass. That¡¯d been the first to go.


    ¡°Miriam! What are you ¡­ why are ¡­ were you just napping on my floor?!¡±


    My librarian blinked several times. She gave another yawn, then nodded.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why?! That is unacceptable! We have an image to maintain! I have already informed you of this! You cannot nap beneath a table like the vagrant mortals I¡¯ve dominated! I did not turn you into a vampire so that you could embarrass us ¡­ embarrass me in such a shameless fashion!¡±


    Miriam shrugged, all the while her counterpart swept his gaze around him like a panicked gazelle.


    ¡°I was tired,¡± she explained. ¡°The table was also the only source of shelter against the sunlight.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope you¡¯re well rested! You¡¯ve much to explain, beginning with why you continually insist on disappointing me! ¡­ The floor, Miriam? Of all places?¡±


    ¡°The countess may nap wherever she pleases,¡± I duly informed him. ¡°That is the right of all maidens. Should she choose to attempt to find sleep beneath a table, then you should consider it an honour that this hovel scarcely deserves.¡±


    The master rodent grimaced once more, one step away from a hiss.


    ¡°Listen to me, Miriam,¡± he said, his crimson eyes glowing as he struggled to peer down without bending his back. ¡°You need to fix your appearance immediately. This is of paramount importance.¡±


    ¡°Hm? Why should I?¡±


    ¡°Because ¡­ I am currently being assessed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± The man raised his hands in grief. ¡°Is that it? Is that the language worthy of our ancient bearing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. After all, I¡¯m also here as a distraction.¡±


    The vampire stared in utter incomprehension. He blinked at Miriam. And then at me.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°[Moonlit Sickle].¡±


    Shhhhunk.


    He also blinked at a smiling Coppelia ¡­ courtesy of his head promptly separating from his neck.


    Unlike a sister blessed with holy powers, his head was very much of the ordinary variety.


    However ¡­ despite the fact that it was cleanly severed, it failed to thud against the floor.


    In one respect, this was good. Miriam was also on the floor. Nobody deserved to see such an unnaturally shiny face from up close. Her next nap would be awful.


    And yet it was also less than ideal.


    Because instead of the vampire¡¯s head now being punted to the horizon, it remained suspended beside him, held aloft by a strand of blood like a string to a cup.


    The vampire, his face upside-down, wrinkled his nose.


    And then¨C


    His hand clasped into a fist seeping with blood.


    ¡°[Exsanguinating Grasp].¡±

 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¨C


    ¡°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¨Cwhy, 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.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°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¨C¡±


    ¡°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 cr¨ºpes ¡­ 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¨Cregardless 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¨C¡±


    ¡°[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¨C


    ¡°[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¨Cjust 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¨Ceverything 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¨C


    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.¡±

 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¨Cthey 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¨C


    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¨Cthat 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.


    ¡°¨CI 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¨Cas 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.¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°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¨Calthough 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¨C


    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¨C¡±


    ¡°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¨C¡±


    ¡°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.


    ¡°¨CHiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!¡±


    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¨C¡±


    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¨CI 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¨Cieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!¡±


    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

    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¨Cwith 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¨Cuntil 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.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    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¨C


    ¡°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¨Cand 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¨Cabout becoming a town guard!


    ¡­ And also if she could bring her own sword.

 Chapter 372: A Princess’s Innocence

    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 genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    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 gateau aux cerises tr¨¨s 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¨Cas 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¨Cas 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¨Cthen 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¨C¡±


    ¡°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¨Cwhat 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¨C


    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¨C¡±


    ¡°No.¡±

 Chapter 373: An Unexpected Warmth

    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¨Cmuch 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¨C


    ¡°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¨Ca 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¨Calong 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.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°No, quite the opposite. They can work harder. Now, you needn¡¯t gasp as you clearly wish to¨Cnor 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¨C


    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¨Cand 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¨C


    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 345: Chasing Mirages

    Bodkins Tangleleaf always regretted visiting the Adventurer''s Guild.


    But it wasn''t that he was no longer welcome.


    On the contrary, the only discomfort he normally felt was when all the faces he''d never known slapped him on the back like an old friend, before forcing him to sample the local variety of watered down ale and whatever counted as food in the communal cauldron.


    There weren''t too many halflings in the Kingdom of Tirea, after all. And of them, few were crazy enough to do what he did.


    That''s not to say that halflings weren''t adventurous. On the contrary, halflings made up a disproportionate number of adventurers, all things considering.


    But even the boldest of them would admit that Bodkins was nuts.


    He was part of the Golden Hogs, and only the very dumbest would be part of that group of misfits. But that also meant stories. And stories meant slaps on the back.


    It wouldn''t always last, of course.


    One of these days, a newer, faster and better halfling would join an adventuring party with even less hiring requirements than the Golden Hogs, and then he''d be relegated to a name on the tip of a tongue.


    That day would have to wait.


    Because right now, exactly half of the Golden Hogs had returned. Unofficially, yes. But it didn''t take an active guild commission to cause trouble. That was something which came naturally.


    Especially when one¡¯s partner was an absent rapscallion.


    Bodkins thought it was suspicious when that elven druid he sometimes called his party member slinked away to go chase a pigeon instead of joining him at the guild. And no wonder. Because for all the problems that woman solved with magic or claws, she did less well when needing to use conversation.


    Seeing what he did now, there were at least several in front of him.


    Upon the receptionist''s desk was a small pile of copper rings. A worrying sight, were it not for the scenes of jubilation around the guild hall of the Marinsgarde branch.


    There was boisterousness. There was flinging alcohol. And there were tears.


    Lots of tears.


    ¡°They''re gone ¡­ I can''t believe it ¡­ they''re actually gone!¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I passed under a tree and nobody threw a cat over me!¡±


    ¡°I''m ¡­ I''m so happy ¡­ I can feed my family ...¡±


    ¡°Look at that! There''s already a poster on the wall! It''s so creased and beautiful ...¡±


    Laughter hoarse with relief and gratefulness filled the air as adventurers huddled together. Barely a fist was thrown as they hugged, bumped shoulders and hopped like excited children.


    It merged with a resounding cheer as a call for wine filled the common room.


    Wine.


    And not the stuff which congealed in the kegs. But wine from actual bottles.


    It must have been a great occasion.


    Either a rampaging frost mammoth had been stopped or it was somebody''s birthday. And given that not nearly enough people were drunk yet, it usually meant the former.


    But if that was true, he imagined that the only person here capable of such a feat would currently be suspended high in the air, perpetually tossed by an eager crowd.


    Instead, she was occupying a corner by her lonesome, respectfully ignored on account of her forehead being stuck to her table.


    Marinsgarde''s very own A-rank.


    Liliane Harten ¡­ possibly.


    Bodkins couldn''t be 100% certain, but he was reasonably confident. She still possessed the same distinct auburn hair that he remembered.


    But most of all, it was the lack of alcohol around her.


    Not drunk, then. Just inconsolable.


    Why that would be the case was a concern. And if Bodkins had even the slightest respect for his own sense of caution, he''d let it be. But he hadn''t travelled from the other side of the kingdom just to take advantage of the lack of traders from the south.


    He came because of goblins.


    Thus, meandering past the legs of those dancing, hugging and hopping, he grabbed two tankards of ale from somebody else''s table and placed them before the comatose woman.


    Both were for her.


    ¡°Looks like it''s been a long day for everyone except me, eh?¡± he said as he cheerfully helped himself to a chair. ¡°I''m not sure whether to be happy or anxious. Cedric would say this is a deserved rest. Thomas would claim it was a false peace before a storm. Funny. Despite not being the bard, that man always had a natural way with theatrics.¡±


    For a moment, no response came.


    But then, as though lifted by a memory of his famously social candour, Liliane cautiously turned her face to the side and peeked up.


    Her eyes were slightly red, but it was nothing compared to the red blotch stamped to her forehead.


    Bodkins chose not to comment.


    ¡°Mr. Tangleleaf,¡± she said, her voice hoarse. She swallowed a gulp to wet her throat. ¡°... Is that you?¡±


    ¡°Just Bodkins will do,¡± he replied with a smile. ¡°We''ve met enough times that you can toss away the formality. To be clear, that number is permanently set at one. Mr. Tangleleaf is what my cousins call me, and goodness knows I try to think about them as little as possible while they complain I''m not sharing my secret treasure hoard with them that everyone knows I definitely have.¡±


    Liliane blinked.


    Despite her attempts to clear her eyes, there was a haze to them which the redness of fatigue couldn''t explain.


    Bodkins could spot it at once. The residual effects of ¡­ something not good.


    He''d seen it all too often. And only the lucky could find themselves planting their forehead on a table for it.


    Thus, he offered all his courtesy, waiting as Liliane simply continued to stare.


    The awkwardness lasted slightly longer than he wanted. But having decided he was either real or not leaving, she slowly raised herself. A half-hearted attempt was made at flicking away the many strands of auburn hair which were now blocking one of her eyes.


    ¡°... It feels inappropriate to refer to you so candidly,¡± she said, needing to swallow a few more gulps. She looked at the ale, then deliberately chose to ignore them. ¡°The last time you were here, I recall a dead basilisk being involved. And also a parade.¡±


    Bodkins gave a hearty laugh.


    ¡°Oh yeah. That was a great one. We don''t normally do parades, but we don''t normally do whole basilisks either. Between the claws, swords and magic, it''s usually bits and pieces of extra salty stew by the end of it. But that day? Arrow straight through the eye. Swoosh.¡±


    He imitated an arrow being plucked.


    In truth, it''d taken his entire quiver. And it wasn''t even the arrow which had struck the final blow. It was the tree he''d felled due to the sheer force he¡¯d run into it. After all, it was damn hard to see anything with his eyes closed. He could still hear the laughter.


    But Liliane didn''t need to know that.


    ¡°It was ¡­ impressive,¡± she said, her shoulders falling. ¡°I was just a D-rank adventurer at the time. I don¡¯t think you even knew me back then. But it was one of the reasons I transferred to the guild in Granholtz.¡±


    ¡°And what a superb idea that was.¡± Bodkins nodded in all seriousness. ¡°More horrors to slay over there than there are spaces in taverns to boast in. I''m sad we never got to work together. But I dare say I only would have slowed you down. My congratulations on reaching A-rank. I''m proud to say you¡¯re both unofficially and officially better than me.¡±


    Liliane looked down at the table.


    ¡°You retired,¡± she said simply.


    ¡°Indeed, I did. I retired. And all''s fair in love, war and rising up the ranks. Besides, I wouldn''t have made A-rank even if I''d continued. Too irresponsible.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Tangle¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Bodkins placed his hand to his ear. ¡°Mr. Tangle? Who''s that?¡±


    ¡°... Bodkins, you''re renowned for your marksmanship and endless commendations. Irresponsibility isn''t something associated with your name¡ªas it is now with mine.¡±


    Liliane''s lips remained parted, held up by the words she wished to add. Even so, nothing came out.


    Bodkins offered his most patient smile.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Oh? What happened? Lose a drinking game to a new F-rank?¡±


    His company bit her lips, then continued staring at the table.


    ¡°... I made a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Because we''ve all done that. Rookies, eh? Nothing if not adamant. Not much good in the field, but even the worst of them can drink a dwarf to death if it¡¯s their first challenge.¡±


    ¡°I didn''t lose at a drinking game, Bodkins. I endangered the lives and well-being of everyone around me ¡­ including a small tribe of goblins.¡±


    ¡°Really? That¡¯s a new one. What did you do?¡±


    ¡°I tried commandeering them into the abyss as part of a poorly planned expedition to rise to S-rank.¡±


    Bodkins clicked his fingers. Oddly, it made Liliane flinch.


    ¡°Aha! So there''s my answer! I''d heard rumours of goblin adventurers. I''m pleased you were so quick to answer my burning curiosity. Usually I have to start bribing people with the tale of how I learned proper roasting techniques from a dragon before anyone tells me anything.¡±


    Liliane placed her elbows on the table, needing both palms to cradle her forehead.


    ¡°You don''t understand. I wore a crown. A crown of empowerment. It was a ¡­ poor choice. And the result was that I ended up enthralling goblins, helped awaken a stone titan and also kidnapped one of my fellow adventurers.¡±


    Liliane paused.


    ¡°... And also his cat.¡±


    Bodkins nodded.


    And then he waited.


    ¡°Is that it or ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡­ ''is that it''?¡±


    ¡°Well, I''m just asking if there''s anything more.¡±


    ¡°There isn''t. How could there even be more?¡±


    The laugh which Bodkins gave was enough to cause every head to turn in his direction. A few eyes widened as they realised at last who he was.


    None were wider than those of the woman opposite him.


    ¡°Bodkins! This isn''t a laughing matter! Didn''t you hear what I just said?¡±


    ¡°Indeed I did. And I do see you''ve quite the problem. That''s the beginning of a story you''ll now have to repeat just to get a drink.¡±


    ¡°That wasn''t a brag.¡±


    ¡°True, which is why I said the beginning of a story. It''s lacking a bit of oomph. You need something extra. Maybe an ancient lair to some hidden evil being unsealed. A meteor falling from the sky. Because putting on nefarious magical items, awakening deadly adversaries and even kidnapping the odd cat is perfectly normal for a high ranked adventurer. I''m shocked this hasn''t happened before.¡±


    ¡°I''m being serious.¡±


    ¡°So am I.¡± Bodkins reached forwards and grabbed one of the tankards for himself. His company no longer needed both. ¡°Mistakes are part and parcel of adventuring. You know that.¡±


    ¡°This is more than a mistake. I involved goblins.¡±


    ¡°And I''m sure they''ll put up a fuss. Just as we do when they involve adventurers in their own mistakes. The continent is a big place. And those treaties are as easy to ruffle as a bird in flight. There''s even an office in headquarters just to deal with it. It''s a well oiled process. Trust me when I say the biggest crime you''ve committed is occupying the valuable corner table all to yourself.¡±


    Liliane shook her head, adamant in her own self-reproach.


    ¡°I cannot escape repercussions. Nor do I deserve to.¡±


    ¡°Was it a cursed crown?¡±


    ¡°No, a self-aware magical artifact imbued with nefarious ambition.¡±


    ¡°Ah, one of those. Well, makes no difference. Did you put it on intending to develop your own nefarious ambitions?¡±


    ¡°No, I was hoping to avoid being eaten by jewel spiders.¡±


    ¡°Well, there you have it. While everyone wishes to resist the power of dangerous magical artifacts, the truth is that the guild wouldn''t even be needed if this wasn¡¯t a regular occurrence. You won''t find yourself in a cell for it.¡±


    ¡°A cell would be too kind. I expect to be removed from the guild.¡±


    ¡°Then I''m sad to say your fears are misfounded. While it''s hard to climb the Oldest Ladder, it''s even harder to be booted off from it. You need to do something quite heinous. And a magical crown just doesn''t quite meet the criteria. Expect your access to the free bar removed, a stern talking to, and likely an unfortunate trek to whichever mountain the goblins have founded their secret kingdom under to serve as their personal lackey for a few months.¡±


    The woman slowly tapped at the side of her tankard. Like a child poking a dead slug.


    ¡°That isn''t enough ¡­ not for me. The only reason that crown held sway is because I didn¡¯t possess the strength of other A-ranks. To have been given the rank was a mistake. To keep it even more so.¡±


    The casual chuckles fell away from Bodkins.


    Instead, he offered the finest reprimand any adventurer could receive. A snort.


    ¡°Did you bribe your way to your rank?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Just answer.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not.¡±


    ¡°Did you leave your team behind to die to a giant poisoned toad while you lived to tell a different tale?¡±


    ¡°No ¡­ have you?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± said Bodkins, as he cheerfully took a sip from his tankard. ¡°But what this means is that both you and I earned our ranks. And rightly so. After all, if only those who carved aside the wicked with a sweep of the hand could garner accolades, there''d be none left to ensure they didn''t die before reaching that moment. Your rank is a symbol of your own strength. Perhaps it''s not a shuddering storm, but I imagine those you adventured with didn''t care¨Cnor those you¡¯ll come to adventure with in the future.¡±


    A sign of life showed itself.


    Slowly, but surely, Liliane began to sit up straight. It wasn¡¯t anything a receptionist could mimic even if they tried to be sloppy, but it was getting there.


    After all, Bodkins more than understood.


    Compared to Thomas, the rest of the Golden Hogs had every right to feel like they were passengers on a witch''s broomstick. And at first, some of them did. But it was only ever a short doubt. Cedric was technically C-rank, yet without his lute and his heart, they never would have survived the first night that squirrels had stolen their provisions.


    Thus, he nodded encouragingly as the A-rank adventurer opposite him studied the dying froth upon her tankard. The bubbles slowly went, falling at the same rate as Liliane¡¯s shoulders.


    And then¡ªshe did the most appropriate thing possible.


    She grabbed the tankard and downed it without pause.


    Glug. Glug. Glug.


    It came down again with a slam.


    As her eyes looked up, it was suddenly more than clarity which had replaced the haze. It was something else. A spark of something long gone cold. A candle brought to life in the darkness.


    Or maybe that was just the ale.


    ¡°Thank you. I needed that.¡±


    ¡°You''re welcome.¡±


    ¡°I know what to do now. I won''t wait for my punishment to come to me. I''ll meet it instead.¡±


    ¡°That''s the spirit.¡±


    ¡°I''m going to quit as an A-rank adventurer.¡±


    Bodkins smiled ¡­ then blinked.


    It wasn''t often his famed ''little talks'' utterly failed. But this was fairly disastrous.


    He was clearly losing his edge.


    ¡°Uh, wait, that wasn''t quite what I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°I''m going to quit ... and then rejoin.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Liliane nodded, determination scribbled upon her expression.


    ¡°I''ve decided. I''m going to become an F-rank adventurer again.¡±


    Utterly stunned, Bodkins could do nothing but gawp as the woman opposite him stood up, her chair crashing behind her and into somebody''s back.


    ¡°I''ve been remiss, Bodkins. I tried to take a shortcut. All this time, I wanted to escape the shadows of my peers. But now I see how wrong I was. Those shadows came from a light so dazzling that they stretched from the far horizon, like a mirage I could never touch. To reach them, I must try again. I must try harder. I must try properly. This time, I won''t ¡­ I can¡¯t stop. I¡¯ll do this the right way. The adventurer''s way. Instead of fearing my betters, I should be striving to stand by their side instead. By her side.¡±


    Liliane clenched her fists around the handle of a tankard. The one belonging to Bodkins. She raised it and gulped it down as easily as she did her first drink.


    Glug. Glug. Glug.


    ¡°... You may not know this,¡± she said as she wiped the froth from her lips to a smattering of applause. ¡°But there''s been a rising star in the guild. A girl younger than any of us when we started. She was the one who brought me back to my senses.¡±


    In answer, Bodkins reached over to the next table and borrowed a new tankard.


    Naturally, he''d heard more than his fair share of rumours. Each more curious than the last. He didn''t involve himself in them, of course. He''d lost that right the moment he''d retired.


    But most of all, he felt it was only polite to keep out of his customers'' business.


    ¡°Oh? I''m afraid I''ve been on the road far too long to keep up with gossip.¡±


    ¡°I imagine the gossip will find you soon enough. It''s ironic, really. But my ill-fated quest to achieve S-rank is what led to her achieving instead.¡±


    Bodkins blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me? She''s ... S-rank?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°When did that happen?¡±


    ¡°Just a short while ago. I had the pleasure of listening to Timon Quinsley himself assigning it while I sat in a cart.¡±


    Now Bodkins was truly confused.


    Of all the things he didn''t expect to hear, that Timon Quinsley, weasel of the kingdom, was personally handing out S-rank titles in Marinsgarde wasn''t one of them.


    For one thing, that was very much a right he didn''t possess.


    Thankfully, however, his face was still the last thing on his mind.


    ¡°This girl ¡­ what''s her name?¡±


    Liliane paused. A look of deliberation briefly flashed across her face.


    ¡°Juliette,¡± she said simply. ¡°She introduced herself as Juliette.¡±


    Bodkins could only stare.


    He caught himself eventually, before breaking into his widest smile.


    ¡°Hah.¡±


    Liliane raised a brow.


    ¡°Is something amusing ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all, just glad to live in such interesting times ¡­ makes me all the happier that the Golden Hogs are back. Wouldn''t want to miss out on the fun.¡±


    Now it was Liliane''s turn to look stunned.


    ¡°You''re returning? ¡­ With Thomas, too?¡±


    Bodkins shrugged.


    ¡°If I can find him. He isn''t in his bar. Perhaps I can ask Mr Quinsley if he knows anything, so long as he doesn''t try to get us back on his roster. That''s a decision for Thomas only.¡±


    Liliane paused, her lips pursed in thought.


    ¡°In that case, perhaps his apprentice might know.¡±


    ¡°... Who?¡±


    She pointed to a figure occupying the bar.


    Specifically, behind it.


    Much to his surprise, Bodkins saw a young man he recognised by virtue of him having once poured his drink.


    Caban Oxwell.


    The lad Thomas had taken on, as much due to pity as his good eye for talent. He''d been proven right. The lad had drawn a few rumours of his own. Already a C-rank adventurer, he was well on his way to someday opening his own bar after running away from his first corrupted flesh melder.


    Why he was standing behind the bar was a mystery.


    Why he was pouring a cup of ale into another cup, before repeating the motion back and forth like an absent minded barkeeper with no customers was another. In truth, he had a small queue wondering why he wasn''t pouring them their wine.


    ¡°... Is he okay?¡±


    ¡°No. I may need to call for a cleric.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Bodkins nodded as he saw the blank eyes and endless stare.


    Still, perhaps he''d had a long day as well.


    After all, it was very similar to how a young maiden had appeared when informed that a gathering of simple farmers, tradesmen and other villagers were deeply discontent.


    But that was a reason to feel optimistic.


    Whatever his concerns, that girl would doubtless seek to do away with them.


    Although Bodkins mostly knew her as one of his best customers, he''d never forget that she was first and foremost a princess. And while he couldn''t claim to know what went on in the mind of one who journeyed so far from her tower, he did know one thing with utmost certainty.


    That right now¡ª


    She must be feeling deeply sympathetic for the plight of her people.

 Chapter 346: To Douse The Flames

    I threw open the shutters of a common inn room.


    Usually, when I peered through my window in the morning, it was to the sight of my fair kingdom winking at me. No matter where I cast my eyes, fields sparkled with morning dew as crouching servants sprinkled water upon the grass, while tall oaks waved to a gentle breeze and also the squires hiding behind them.


    This time, there wasn¡¯t any of that.


    Instead, there was an alleyway.


    With a bucket. A cat. And a drunkard.


    A snore sounded, disturbed only by the clinking of an empty bottle as the cat rolled it away. It paused and looked up at me. I looked down at it. And then I offered a nod.


    Why adventurers insisted on disturbing cats, I had no idea.


    Cats did away with rodents, litter and at least one empress with noted designs on conquering my kingdom. They were a paragon of community service.


    And as it happens, so was I.


    I winced and held up my hand.


    Beyond a windowsill ground down by the tears of those who peeked out hoping for a better view than a Marinsgarde alleyway, the dawn blinked over the horizon of rooftops, its warming light a reward for me having already accomplished a harrowing feat today.


    Yes ¡­ waking up early!


    ¡­ Which isn¡¯t to say I never woke up early. I just had little need to.


    After all, only those who were behind on their work needed to sacrifice their sleep. And as a princess who diligently completed all of my assigned tasks shortly after judging and throwing out the first crumpet, I was a force of efficiency.


    Now, however, my schedule was bursting at the seams¨Cand all with the same agenda.


    Rescuing my kingdom.


    That¡¯s right!


    It was time to stamp out a peasant revolt!


    I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, could not stand idly by while my subjects raised their pitchforks in ire!


    It took only a spark for a bonfire to light. And a gathering of farmers organised enough to halt a major bridge?


    Why, that was already a flame so bright I could hear the crackling.


    Indeed ¡­ my kingdom was imperilled!


    Even now, I could hear the foundations groaning beneath the weight of this looming catastrophe.


    And frankly ¡­ I had no idea why!


    So long as their hands were unimpeded, then so should their focus!


    Were my people not joyful and prosperous? Were my fields not wet and muddy? Were their days of toil and sweat not warmed by the safe knowledge that only fruit slimes, badgers and women in scandalous attire sought to threaten their unrelenting hardship?


    ¡­ Because if not, they should be!


    Why, I¡¯d helped ensure it!


    From the fields of Rolstein to the edges of the Wovencoille, I¡¯d personally endeavoured to punt away every blemish which prevented them from working themselves to the bone!


    Through my careful use of diplomacy, I¡¯d made sure that the only disturbance to their grueling labour came when a sniffle of regret was carried by a wind all the way from an island soon to be improved by a goblin¡¯s dream castle!


    Yet despite this ¡­ all I saw waiting before me was a nightmare.


    A gathering of discontent peasants.


    I shuddered despite the morning warmth.


    It was the most dire thing I¡¯d heard since the news that my etiquette tutor was postponing her retirement for another year. Because while I could conceivably hide within the vast abyss of my wardrobe without once venturing out for food or water, this was a threat I couldn¡¯t simply wait out by burying my head amidst the books I smuggled ahead of time.


    Indeed ¡­ for how often had such a thing heralded the falling of kingdoms? Of anarchy and smouldering rubbles? Of pillows stolen away from my own bed chamber?


    Clearly, this demanded my full attention.


    And that meant ¡­ provisions!


    Bwam.


    Kneeing the door to our room inwards, Coppelia returned with a smile bright enough to drown out the sun. Her satisfaction was clear to see. As were her arms laden with important nutrients.


    There was just one problem.


    ¡°Okay!¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°I have moss cakes!¡±


    I turned away from the window and nodded, grateful for my loyal handmaiden¡¯s diligence.


    But again.


    There was just one problem. All bundled into her arms.


    ¡°My, how wonderful! Thank you for venturing out so early.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha~ it¡¯s fine. I like waking up early. When people see me smiling in the morning, they look so bitter and resentful. It¡¯s great!¡±


    ¡°Indeed, your enthusiasm is the example all my people should follow. Especially if it means less time causing a ruckus in the common rooms of inns late into the night. I notice you¡¯ve purchased quite a lot. I don¡¯t recognise some of it ¡­ or indeed any of it. What else did you purchase?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see ¡­ I have moss cookies. I have moss cones. I have moss truffles. And I have something which looks like moss but it¡¯s probably mould. Don¡¯t eat that one. I think the bakery gave it to me by accident.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ and then simply stared.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Far from the usual assortment of buttery pastries and other healthy snacks, all I saw was green. Some of which was, indeed, a slightly less uniform shade than the rest.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see ¡­ Coppelia, may I ask why you only chose the moss variety of provisions ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Because it was a great deal! I got this all practically for free. None of the goblins were there to buy it and humans haven¡¯t caught on yet. This is just what I could carry. If you want, we can get even more!¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s do that. And also inquire about any hazelnut croissants they have available while we¡¯re there.¡±


    ¡°In that case, they¡¯ll probably just look all glum to you as well. The magic halfling was right. No cake ingredients means no pastries. It¡¯s moss for breakfast, lunch and dinner.¡±


    I quietly groaned.


    It was the worst case scenario. Or rather, the worst case after the existing worst case. Even before the first call to arms was sounded against my kingdom, it was already a calamity.


    ¡°Is ¡­ Is there truly nothing but moss available? How do the people eat?¡±


    ¡°They eat other things. Like normal bread.¡±


    I gave it a moment of consideration, then bravely steeled myself.


    ¡°Very well, petits pains au lait fourr¨¦s au ch¨¨vre is a bit rustic ¡­ but I can make do if necessary!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not normal bread. That¡¯s lunch with a bonus of bread.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What is normal bread, then?¡±


    ¡°Normal bread doesn¡¯t have stuff in it. Just flour. And water. Maybe a dash of salt if it¡¯s fancy.¡±


    My hands covered my mouth.


    ¡°T-That is horrible ¡­ why, not even the louts on Soap Island are forced to consume such pitiful fare ¡­ !¡±


    ¡°Really? What do they eat then?¡±


    ¡°Exactly! We cannot allow this injustice to continue! By wantonly engaging in threats of rebellion, these thoughtless commoners selfishly seeking a better life for themselves and their families are causing the innocents of my kingdom to suffer ¡­ including us!¡±


    I scrunched up my fists against my chest and nodded.


    Indeed, it was time to nip this in the bud!


    The Wessin Bridge was hardly a log upon a stream. It was a vital piece of infrastructure, a fortification and a popular tourist spot all in one. Any gathering of farmers large enough to block critical supplies had to mean they¡¯d spilled out from the bars and taverns expressly designed to placate them.


    A dire matter. So much so, that Coppelia could only slightly raise her fist in excitement.


    Especially while she was juggling the snacks only she and Apple would eat.


    ¡°Wooooooo~! You¡¯re going to [Ball Of Doom] your peasants off a bridge!¡±


    ¡°C-Coppelia?! I would never do such a thing!¡±


    ¡°... Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m sure! ¡­ Why, even if that fixed all my problems, could you imagine the lies said about me if I punted my own peasants off a bridge? They¡¯d claim I was anything less than a gentle princess!¡±


    Coppelia could only giggle, such was the absurdity of the thought. She then offered a nod.


    ¡°Alrighty, then! What do we have planned if it doesn¡¯t involve punting peasants?¡±


    I abruptly paused.


    Then, I gave it a moment¡¯s thought.


    In fact, it was the same moment¡¯s thought which had been occurring since the night.


    This was no ordinary problem, after all. It was the problem. The number #1 cause for fallen kingdoms since records began. And in that, history was firm on the matter.


    A peasant revolt couldn¡¯t simply be whisked away with a gentle breeze or even the boot of authority.


    The embers would remain, waiting in the mud to rise once again.


    After all, once the flames had risen, they could no longer be calmed. It was as wild and frightening as a common pigeon which had flown into the kitchens, refusing to stop until that which had invited it was utterly consumed.


    Any lull was but a false dawn supported by charred beams and shaken foundations. It might take a day, a year or a decade. But the walls would eventually crumble.


    And were I a lesser princess, this would be where I¡¯d tremble with dismay.


    ¡­ Fortunately, I wasn¡¯t just a princess. I was a genius!


    And that meant ¡­ I wouldn¡¯t simply fix this! Instead, I¡¯d also use this as an opportunity to lay to rest any further murmurs of discontent down the road too!


    Yes, just as I could rely on future me, so too could she rely on me!


    ¡°Ohohohoho!¡± I raised a hand to my lips and smiled. ¡°Why, the plan is that we fix everything¨Cboth now and tomorrow!¡±


    Indeed, where others saw misfortune, I saw opportunity!


    A peasant revolt was awful. But the fact remained that this could be worse. Had Reitzlake been the scene of such discontent, then the flames would already have spread to all the corners of my kingdom.


    As it was, there was still a chance for the kindling to be doused before they were fully ablaze. And that was a gentle steam which would be seen as far as the smoke it replaced.


    One fanned by a princess whose image needed to be repaired in the eyes of her most loyal retainer.


    Desperately so.


    Yes. I admit this was starting to become a problem.


    Because every now and again, my highly keen senses told me Coppelia sometimes forgot I was a princess. Indeed, sometimes I felt like a pillow. More than once I¡¯d found her snoring with her face squished against my back or my shoulder.


    Thus, I offered a sample of what was to come.


    My beautiful smile.


    ¡°Indeed, as frightening as any gathering of peasants is, this is not a road which has never been navigated. Why, all we must do to soothe their unreasonable ire is for me to carefully listen to their concerns and offer reassurances, to take in their fears and be the warmth which disperses it. By doing so, these same peasants will become my most loyal supporters and spies in putting down the next budding revolt.¡±


    Coppelia blinked.


    ¡°Eh? You¡¯re going to do princess things?¡±


    ¡°Firstly, everything I do is a princess thing. Secondly, appealing to the masses is a natural talent even the lowest ranked princesses possess. That is why royal carriages are designed to tear through barns, to ensure we reach the farmers most in need of our healing smile. It is the first remedy when our foes seek to turn our citizens against us.¡±


    ¡°You mean your peasants aren¡¯t just unhappy because they¡¯re muddy and have to work all day?¡±


    ¡°There is no such thing as unhappy peasants. Only loyal subjects who have been cruelly led astray by the slander of our enemies.¡±


    ¡°Gosh. You must have a lot of enemies.¡±


    I nodded with the pride this demanded.


    ¡°Indeed, we do. There is much to envy about my kingdom. It¡¯s only natural they¡¯d seek to coerce my subjects into such folly as questioning their own joy. But they needn¡¯t fear. Against the whispers, I will offer the melody of my kindness. Against the shadows, I will offer the light of my smile ¡­ in short, I simply need to be my normal self!¡±


    Coppelia nodded and beamed.


    ¡°Uwaah~ you¡¯re going to punt so many peasants.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia!! I am not going to punt any peasants! That is ¡­ well, that is very counterintuitive to what I need to happen! I realise that, yes, there have been rare occasions with no witnesses where I might have resorted to acts deemed as somewhat untraditional ¡­ but that will not be the case now! I absolutely cannot punt my own farmers! I need them!¡±


    ¡°I can already see the smoke. And the fire. So much fire.¡±


    ¡°Why would there be fire?!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s from all the burning furniture.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia!¡± I threw up my arms in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m serious! We cannot do anything that will result in furniture being burned, thrown or discarded! This is important! My kingdom is at stake!¡±


    Much to my dismay, my semi-loyal handmaiden merely giggled.


    And so I did what any princess with utterly no recorded history of destruction of property would do.


    I took in a deep breath, cleared my mind and duly erased every worry I had.


    ¡°... Come, Coppelia!¡± I said as I turned towards the door, blissful smile in hand. ¡°A darkness stirs in the hearts of my peasants! We must be the light which drives it out!¡±


    Immediately, she held up the assortment of green things in her arms.


    ¡°Okie~ but what about the moss stuff?¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, have you decided which you want? We normally say which food is ours and then pretend we don¡¯t steal from each other constantly.¡±


    I considered the goblin cuisine on display.


    And then I nodded.


    Indeed, it was time to rescue my kingdom from the worst calamity which could ever befall it. The simmering flames of a peasant revolt.


    But first ¡­ I had to find a functioning cr¨ºpe stall.

 Chapter 347: Oasis Of Dreams

    Upon the road towards the Wessin Bridge, the forest stirred to a gentle whisper.


    All around me, the leaves danced beneath the warmth of the final weeks of spring.


    As the sunshine flickered amidst the blooming foliage, the sound of Apple¡¯s leisurely trots was joined only by the rustling of shrubs, the chirps of robins and the occasional scream in the distance as a hooligan was consumed by the deadly cockatrices which also lived in my forests.


    Normally, that is.


    Because right now ¡­ a moment of peace opted to visit me instead.


    Within the light drifting between the shifting canopy, I caught dandelions floating by like sparkling feathers in the air. The gentle aroma of wild meadows was overcome by hints of earthen scents. And the colours of honeysuckle and jasmine bloomed like snatches of summer¡¯s impatience.


    Ohohohoho!


    Indeed ¡­ it was utterly marvellous!


    Despite the attempts of every ruffian so inebriated they didn¡¯t keep their plans to darken my kingdom in the tavern corners where they belonged, the sun continued to seek my energising smile for nourishment.


    Why, it was so peaceful that not even a fruit slime could be seen bouncing away!


    ¡­ And that was possibly also just the slightest problem.


    I peered hopefully around me.


    Much to my confusion, I didn¡¯t see a single substitute mailbox for the important task of improving my [Spring Breeze].


    This was highly unusual. There were enough blackberries in the bushes that both Apple and Coppelia had agreed to a temporary truce as they only devoured my kingdom from their own respective side of the road.


    In fact¨C


    Far from competing with the fruit slimes, they didn¡¯t have to compete with anyone.


    Not a single hint of spotted fur, a wet nose or a bushy tail swept through the underbrush.


    There were no fawns lifting their heads before skipping away. No squirrels hurriedly climbing the oaks with acorns dribbling from their mouths. No hedgehogs trembling before rolling into a ball. And not a single badger subtly making its way back into the many illegal holes in the ground.


    There was nothing.


    Nothing at all.


    Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.


    ¡°... Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Mmh?~¡± My loyal handmaiden looked up from a shrub. She beamed and held out her palm filled with blackberries. ¡°You want some? They¡¯re tasty and not poisonous.¡±


    I leaned slightly away from the blackberries, conscious of what happened to the last person who consumed berries harvested by her hands. Even now, I sometimes closed my eyes and saw tubes of vomit exiting a helmet.


    ¡°N-No, I shall pass, thank you ¡­ although I¡¯m grateful you went straight to the important point.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re tasty?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But also that they¡¯re not poisonous. Out of curiosity, how do you know with your constitution if they¡¯re safe for princesses to eat?¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s easy! You just have to know what to look for. You see, when picking wild berries, it¡¯s important to carefully check to see if there¡¯s any dead humans nearby.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°... Sure you don¡¯t want any? They¡¯re better than what we buy from shopkeepers.¡±


    I smiled.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Thank you. It would be unbefitting of me to take what is available exclusively for my retainers and the garden critters of my kingdom. Speaking of which, I was wondering if you noticed that it seems a little ¡­ peaceful?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I noticed straight away. I¡¯m already checking around me every 5 seconds.¡±


    ¡°You are? For what?¡±


    ¡°The explosion. Don¡¯t worry, when everything catches fire, I¡¯ll be ready.¡±


    I was aghast.


    ¡°Coppelia! ¡­ Just because there¡¯s a moment of quiet doesn¡¯t mean it has to be immediately followed by something blowing up!¡±


    My loyal handmaiden simply tilted her head and blinked.


    I pursed my lips.


    Then ¡­ I also peeked around me.


    ¡°... Do you think it¡¯ll be man eating fire breathing death beetles again?¡±


    ¡°Nah, the ground¡¯s too beat up here. They don¡¯t like burrowing under roads. Even exploding carnivorous insects need to sleep.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ what do you think it could be then?¡±


    Coppelia hummed in thought, all the while tossing blackberries into her mouth.


    ¡°Well, maybe you won? You do look all mean whenever a badger pokes its head out. At some point, even nature needs to get the point right?¡±


    I shook my head at once.


    Those who sought to nibble on the undefended leaves of my orchard were mysteriously absent, yes ¡­ but as amazing as I was, this was one of the few battles I couldn¡¯t have won.


    After all, small fluffy animals were drawn to me like moths to a flame.


    No matter where I cast my gaze or how appalled my expression, I could be guaranteed a menagerie peering back at me.


    It was only natural. As a beautiful princess, I lived a life of hardship with as many downsides as zero. But every now and again, that number briefly rose to one as the various critters of my kingdom sought to invade my personal space.


    ¡°Do not underestimate the resilience of badgers,¡± I said, my warning stark. ¡°They can survive in all conditions and all seasons. More importantly, they can survive my scowl. They care as little for my displeasure as they do for the wholeness of my orchard.¡±


    Coppelia nodded.


    Then, she plucked a budding peony from a shrub and stuffed it in her mouth.


    ¡°Well, if they¡¯ve run away, it usually means something even scarier took their place. Small animals and weak monsters are pretty quick on the uptake when a new big guy comes along. Even if they can survive your scowl, I doubt they can survive a hungry manticore.¡±


    ¡°A hungry manticore would be a relief. They¡¯re famously protective and organised with their habitats.¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s a rotted ghoul blighting the land it shambles on?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very unlikely. If the Grand Duchess entered my kingdom, I would know.¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s a bewitchingly dressed dancer able to charm every animal in a forest while a magical floating ensemble plays in the background?¡±


    ¡°... Yes.¡± I nodded as I peered ahead. ¡°I suppose that makes for a very reasonable explanation.¡±


    Coppelia smiled as she raised a hand to her brows.


    All I saw was a colourful blur. Even so, I heard it before I saw it.


    Music.


    It was as boisterous as any which could be found in the corner of a tavern. A bright and optimistic melody which ruffled the leaves as well as any breeze. Except this tavern consisted of a forest. And all its inhabitants were now gathered as a mesmerised audience.


    It was an astonishing sight.


    A literal flock straight from a fable sat together, tails wagging as they enjoyed a rare spectacle.


    Deer, hedgehogs, rabbits and all the missing fruit slimes sat together, joined by birds of every rainbow shade perched upon branches, their chirps lost to the sound of music. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    A lyre harp, a pan flute and a tambourine worked in unison, plucked, played and drummed by invisible hands as they floated in the air, their silhouettes immersed in a violet glow.


    It was the same colour as the tiny tent pitched by the side of the road. A tent at risk of being physically swept away. The dangling leaves above it were more durable. So thin was its fabric, even the palest breeze was enough to cause its entrance flap to billow.


    The owner clearly didn¡¯t mind.


    Her smile was as colourful as the songbirds in the branches above her. And also as much as her attire.


    Painted in the shades of a twilight sky and dotted with sequin gemstones, it matched well with her hair. Flowing black as midnight, two elegantly braided strands fell upon bare shoulders as golden as the sands from which she hailed.


    Here was a maiden who would have the inhabitants of my taverns tossing coins at her for a moment of her company.


    They would need to offer more.


    After all, her profession wasn¡¯t one known for accepting insults.


    A dancer from the Kingdom of Dunes.


    A vaunted profession in the land where tales were first said to be born.


    Whereas everywhere else, dancers were little more than jesters and drunkards, in the Kingdom of Dunes, they were amongst the most respected and oldest of careers, requiring arduous training as long as my own in being a princess. Often since they were treated as one.


    Courtesans. Diplomats. Spies.


    And very occasionally ¡­ performers in my forests.


    Barefooted but with a curtain skirt, all her stomach was exposed as she danced on the spot, a pair of large circlets balancing upon her arms feeding ribbons of fabric as long as the tails of my dresses. As she moved, her long hair flowed behind her like black ink shifting upon a palette.


    And her audience were my garden critters.


    Naturally, I was shocked.


    Why, this woman ¡­ she had mesmerised an entire section of my forest!


    I ¡­ I could abuse this!


    Such a unique power! If I could use it to keep the unwanted visitors of my orchard in place, then I wouldn¡¯t even need my delicate gardening techniques! I could simply command the servants to hoist them to the other side of the kingdom!


    However, just as I wondered why such a technique wasn¡¯t already known to me¨C


    Hrrpmh.


    I realised it had a fatal weakness.


    It was susceptible to horses.


    Apple snorted. And then the spell was broken.


    As though a brave and loyal tax inspector had entered a tavern, the music ceased, the instruments collapsed ¡­ and every patron darted or bounced away in every direction.


    Within moments, all the colours which had gathered were no more.


    Instead, they were now seen only in the attire of the dancer, her little tent, and also her smile as she offered not a hint of acrimony at being rescued from her audience of garden terrors.


    For although her footwork had ceased, her performance had not.


    ¡°Greetings, customers!¡± said the dancer with all the professional enthusiasm instilled in her. Her arms elegantly spread out as she offered a deep bow. ¡°Welcome to the Oasis of Dreams.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow ¡­ all the more so as I took in the little sign pitched beside the tent.


    Oasis of Dreams.


    One time entry.


    That was it.


    No information. No price. No warnings.


    My, wasn¡¯t this quaint?


    A dollop of mystery straight from the onset. And yet her skills couldn¡¯t be denied.


    The finest dancers were said to be able to charm kings and queens. She wasn¡¯t quite there yet. But she was better than the energetic bards who innkeepers hired to ensure the rats scuttling in the ceilings weren¡¯t alone in their efforts to promote insomnia.


    And here she was by the side of a dirt road, entertaining an audience unlikely to pay her.


    I tugged on Apple¡¯s reins to bring him a little closer.


    ¡°Salutations,¡± I said with a polite smile. ¡°My apologies for my horse disturbing you in your performance. It was quite lively. The hedgehogs seemed particularly impressed.¡±


    The dancer bowed again.


    ¡°Thank you, dear customer! Praise from a stranger is a gift from unseen bonds. It¡¯s my calling to offer my performances to all who may look upon them. This doesn¡¯t exclude the animals of the forests, whose love of song and dance is inscribed into their every movement.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. I saw it even as they sat stock still. May I ask how you can charm them to such an extent?¡±


    The dancer offered a tinkling, playful laugh.


    Already I could hear a handful of the creatures peeking back from the edges of the underbrush.


    ¡°You could. But I¡¯m afraid I wouldn¡¯t be in a position to answer. The secrets of my craft are older and more guarded than any spell woven by mages ¡­ and also, I should add, quite a bit more precarious.¡±


    I nodded, neither surprised nor disappointed.


    After all, as certain as I was that I could learn the secrets of sand dancing in a busy afternoon, my ballet teacher would doubtless be less than impressed. That¡¯d be awful. She was one of the few tutors who didn¡¯t deem it necessary to impart knowledge via books to my head.


    If possible, I wished to keep it that way.


    ¡°Oh? Then I wonder if what I¡¯ve heard is true. It¡¯s said that those who have learned to dance in the oldest halls keep their secrets so well that the finest are not even known, for they keep their art to none but themselves.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard well. And while I cannot confirm or deny this, I hold no regrets to say that my name is very much well known. I am Amissa the Benevolent. Have you heard of me, dear customer?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t. I know few dancers and even fewer who would ply their trade in a forest. It is a strange place to practice your craft. Are you perhaps stopping on the way to important business?¡±


    The dancer¡¯s smile blossomed as she gestured all around her. The circlets swung effortlessly upon her arms, followed by a trail of ribbons.


    ¡°My business is right here, amidst the leaves, the fading spring and the watching deer.¡±


    I leaned away slightly so I wouldn¡¯t be hit.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Then you do yourself a disservice. Although the deer are doubtless appreciative of the distraction, they also lack the hands needed to applaud. You¡¯re unlikely to earn the accolades you deserve by the side of a muddy road in a forest.¡±


    ¡°True, which is why I also have my tent.¡±


    She duly pointed at it.


    A tent so small that it could do nothing but hold whatever wardrobe of instruments and clothing she possessed.


    ¡°I see ¡­ and what is the purpose of this tent ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s as the sign says, of course! This is the Oasis of Dreams. And for travellers who wander past, whose hearts are heavy and bodies are weary, I extend an invitation. Inside my tent, they may offer what applause they wish in return for the paradise I provide.¡±


    ¡°How very mysterious. And what is the cost of this vague service ¡­ again, by the side of the road?¡±


    ¡°Free.¡±


    ¡°Free?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t charge money. The joy I offer is a gift, as are the smiles of my customers.¡±


    Hmmmmmmmm.


    A beautiful dancer loitering on the side of a muddy road like a common highwayman. Check.


    A mysteriously pitched tent scarcely large enough for one. Check.


    A vague service with absolutely no cost involved other than a somewhat telling warning that entry was a one time only affair. Check.


    I gave it a moment¡¯s thought ¡­ and then I nodded.


    So!


    Very!


    Suspicious!


    ¡°Uwaah~¡± Coppelia nodded, highly impressed. ¡°I wonder how many corpses are in the tent.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± The dancer gently lifted a hand to her ear, the lie already playing on her lips. ¡°My apologies, dear customer, but I didn''t quite catch those words.¡±


    ¡°My loyal and very similarly minded handmaiden expressed her curiosity regarding what paradise may be found within your tent. It appears somewhat stuffy in there.¡±


    ¡°Do you think so? Perhaps from the outside. And yet within, there¡¯s more than enough space for one to find all the peace of mind that is ever needed.¡±


    Interesting.


    I wondered which blunt instrument she favoured for inducing peace of mind in her customers.


    ¡°... Very well!¡± I said, smiling with a clap of my hands. ¡°I admit my curiosity. Especially in regards to ensuring all regulations are being followed. If you¡¯re not selling goods or services, then you¡¯ve no need for any trading permits¨Cbut there are laws regarding public safety and common vagrancy I still need to take into account.¡±


    The dancer merely gave a bat of her eyelashes.


    ¡°Curiosity is the boon of life. It is what drives all hearts towards the next endeavour. Would you like to enter the Oasis of Dreams?¡±


    ¡°No, but duty compels me to investigate. What will I find inside?¡±


    ¡°As I said, paradise.¡±


    I pursed my lips.


    A moment later, I dismounted from Apple and gave him the finger point to tell him that if the highly suspicious woman tried to murder me, he should immediately proceed to eat her hair.


    He snorted.


    I nodded. It was enough for me.


    Thus, happy that all instructions were clear, I promptly made my way to the tent.


    The woman didn¡¯t move from her spot as she happily gestured for me to enter. I obliged by tugging at the very edge of the entry flap ¡­ and then peeking inside.


    Much to my surprise, the dancer certainly wasn¡¯t lying.


    It was significantly larger on the inside.


    Even more to my surprise, there wasn¡¯t a single corpse or blood stain.


    Instead, it was a veritable pavilion filled with more carpets and cushions than could be found in a typical basement in the Summer Kingdoms. A rectangular table sat in the centre, adorned with silver tableware, jugs and cutlery. Over it was a brightly lit chandelier, its candles unneeded against the light which seemed to pour through the fabric of the tent.


    An unexpected sight. But nothing compared to what I saw as I stepped away.


    Because much to my chagrin ¡­ I found that the tent from the outside was now as big as it was on the inside.


    A white pavilion greeted my eyes, its fabric so bright it reflected the sun.


    The same sun which beat down upon me with all the force of a kitchen halfway through their daily quota of baking everything I wanted in my mind despite my preferences changing daily.


    It was hot.


    So very hot.


    Yes ¡­ just like the sand beneath my boots.


    I turned around.


    Gone was the muddy road, the oak trees and the scent of wild grass.


    Instead, only a handful of palm trees existed to shield me from the unremitting heat ¡­ as well as an enormous pool of glimmering water as blue as purest sapphire, ringed by a smattering of reeds.


    An oasis.


    In the desert.


    With the only breeze coming with a sound like the draft from a chimney.


    All of a sudden, the dancer appeared behind me.


    The smile she wore was as comely as the one she displayed just a moment ago under the leaves of my forest. Her attire, exactly as it was, now matched the brightness of the sky.


    In fact¨C


    There was just one thing different about her.


    Her dancer¡¯s legs were no more.


    Instead, a lightly swirling gust of visible air swept like smoke beneath her hips.


    ¡°Welcome, dear customer!¡± said the djinn, smiling with unabashed joy. ¡°To the Oasis of Dreams!¡±

 Chapter 348: Customer Service

    Djinn.


    There were as many peddlers of wishes as there were barkeepers in my kingdom.


    For just a handful of crowns and the bottom of a cup, even the muddiest peasant could see their most treasured dream of personally disappointing me as a servant come to fruition.


    But those who weren¡¯t barkeepers?


    Purveyors of falsehoods.


    Con artists at the level of a troll merchant whose claims that a bottomless bag was worth far more than 500 gold crowns and that I would never once secretly regret purchasing it while rolling back-and-forth in the middle of the night as I thought about which two books I could have bought instead.


    After all, the magic of wishes was not for any mage to cast, nor any vendor to sell.


    That was exclusively the realm of swindlers and tricksters.


    The djinn ¡­ were absolutely no exception.


    Taking the form of beautiful maidens and handsome gentlemen, these spirits were as vain as they were unhelpful.


    They had their own narrative, of course. A carefully curated tale of generosity woven by the charm of their smiles and the allure of their promises. A wish here. A wish there. A dragon¡¯s hoard for a peasant or an empire for a lord, each tossed as freely as carrots beneath the dining table.


    But for all the folklore they hoped to spew, their reputation was stronger.


    Childish at best and malevolent at worst, the djinn were little more than larger nymphs¨Cincluding the amount of mischief they could cause.


    Despite their ability to make the wishes of mortals come true, they were also famously blas¨¦ about the finer points. Because more often than not, that dragon¡¯s hoard also came with the dragon. And that kingdom came with poison in every cup.


    Even so ¡­ for all their unpredictability, their powers couldn¡¯t be denied.


    As spirits who commanded magic more ancient and enigmatic than any archmage could command, they could shatter a kingdom as easily as the expectations of those who failed to heed the warnings. For beneath the surface was pride as temperamental as their whims.


    Unfortunately for the djinn, I was a princess. And this meant my pride had priority.


    ¡°Hm hmm hm hmm hm ?.¡±


    Thus, I hummed to myself while tossing away everything I saw.


    Pillows, carpets, goblets and plates.


    Everything but the sand beneath my boots was launched behind my shoulder as I went through the djinn¡¯s abode like a hedgehog through my rhododendrons.


    Firstly because they were an eyesore. Secondly because they were in the way.


    Again and again, pieces of loose upholstery or tableware went flying behind me ¡­ each sadly missing the observing maiden who was standing, or rather, hovering by the entrance.


    ¡°... Dear customer, may I ask what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± I turned around, wiping a non-existent bead of sweat from my brows. ¡°Ah, my apologies for the commotion. I¡¯m searching for something.¡±


    ¡°Goodness, I had no idea! I thought you were simply ransacking my home. And what is it you¡¯re searching for? I might be able to help. Customer service is my forte.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Very well. then. I¡¯m searching for a magic lamp.¡±


    ¡°A magic lamp? That¡¯s quite a rare thing. May I ask what you need it for?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. I need a magic lamp so I can break it and return to my kingdom where the sun doesn¡¯t threaten to incinerate my forehead. Now, where might this source of your magical power be?¡±


    The djinn giggled.


    A sound so melodic that songbirds would take note, if only to learn how to disturb my naps more.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not sure. My magic lamp no longer has any ties to me. I was released so many years ago that the memories have faded into the sand. I¡¯m now a wandering spirit, free to travel where I desire, to aid those whose souls are lost in plight ¡­ and I see from your urgency that you¡¯ve arrived at the Oasis of Dreams not a second too late.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, that much is obvious. I recently saw a goblin marketplace more organised than this. Upending this tent has only made it better.¡±


    The djinn¡¯s beautiful smile creaked.


    A moment later, she rose a few inches in the air. The swirling mist beneath her intensified, and a warm light even brighter than the sun gathered around her silhouette.


    ¡°Dear customer, I see you¡¯ve many questions,¡± she said in a deliberately soft voice. ¡°And although your reaction of instantly desecrating my carefully organised pavilion is different to every single visitor I¡¯ve had until now, I offer my reassurances. You have nothing to fear from me. For I am here only to help shed the weight from your soul.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°... My, why didn¡¯t you say so! I apologise, I react adversely to being kidnapped by loitering djinn masquerading as strange women by the side of the muddy road.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable. Being kidnapped by strange women sounds like a frightening ordeal. Fortunately, I am Amissa the Benevolent. And my only oddity lies in my kindness.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. Then you can kindly send me back to where I was.¡±


    The djinn smiled. All the while not sending me back.


    ¡°... Hm. How unusual. Perhaps you¡¯ve been disoriented by the blinding sun? Normally this is where I explain who I am and what the Oasis of Dreams is. It¡¯s very rare for anyone to show so little curiosity in a djinn or the stress reducing paradise around them.¡±


    ¡°My curiosity lies in how my handmaiden steals the pillow without the dent in it while my face is still buried within it. Why I¡¯d be kidnapped is less of a mystery. Now, will you be sending me back?¡±


    ¡°Certainly! ¡­ But are you sure you don¡¯t wish to tour the wonderful healing oasis first?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯ve worked tirelessly on arranging it. It wasn¡¯t easy. Even as a djinn, encouraging life to bloom in the most arid of locations is a stunning feat.¡±


    ¡°You should continue tending to your work, then. Perhaps until it becomes a verdant forest. For example, the one I¡¯m waiting to return to.¡±


    I tapped my foot.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    And then I waited. A concept utterly foreign to me.


    My tapping foot was the only thing stronger than the servant¡¯s bell. The fact that I wasn¡¯t already looking around for ambushing squirrels was a disgrace.


    The djinn said that customer service was her forte. Yet were this the Royal Villa, every steward would be desperately rushing to do every task while wondering which specific one I wanted done.


    Eventually, however, her shoulders fell.


    ¡°Very well ¡­ it¡¯s clear I was mistaken in bringing you here. In that case, I apologise wholeheartedly for any distress caused. I am unused to the traditions of humans. As a benevolent spirit, I only sought to offer a moment of respite from the troubles which plague your heart.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.


    ¡°... Truly?¡±


    ¡°Truly.¡±


    ¡°No ulterior motives? No hidden schemes? You just ¡­ want to show off an oasis?¡±


    The djinn smiled amicably.


    Then, she leaned to her side ¡­ and swept away the entrance to the pavilion.


    ¡°Not just an oasis,¡± she said brightly. ¡°But a healing oasis. Please gaze upon the glittering waters. Do you feel the wicked desires of your heart fading away? Good. Note also the swaying palm trees and allow the corruption within you to bleed away to the calming sight. Because once you¡¯re done, you can also immerse your eyes upon the carefully combed golden dunes in the distance. Feel your mushy and frail body relax as you peer upon the unbroken sand.¡±


    I winced, not seeing a thing amidst the sunlight melting my eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s very blinding.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful! I¡¯m so happy the experience had such a positive effect on you. And now that you¡¯re healed, you may leave. I sense another customer in need of my oasis coming down the road.¡±


    I blinked, as much to repair my eyes as study the djinn¡¯s highly unusual demeanour.


    ¡°I see ¡­ and where is the door?¡±


    ¡°There is no door. You need to wish your way out.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You need to wish in order to exit. Not just in your head, but also out loud.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to make a wish?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you not simply send me back the way I came?¡±


    ¡°I could. But the logistics of sending you back isn¡¯t quite as straightforward as bringing you here. Because of reasons. As a result, the complex teleportation spell required is far less reliable than even the most reckless would dare. However, if you were to make a wish, then the magic imbued upon me would guarantee your safe and prompt return.¡±


    The djinn offered a pleasant smile. I smiled in response.


    And then¨C


    I jabbed my finger towards her.


    ¡°What sort of scam is this ¡­ ?!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a scam.¡±


    ¡°This is a scam! I don¡¯t know what it is, but I can smell it like a rotting trout!¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a rotting trout. It¡¯s the Oasis of Dreams.¡±


    ¡°Why do I need to make a wish to exit a dream?! What is your motive?! Even without kidnapping me, there is clearly something shady about this!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing shady at all. This is a legitimate healing enterprise. Look.¡±


    The djinn pointed to the side.


    There, stuck upon the fabric wall was a scroll of parchment.


    I leaned in to read it.


    Amissa the Benevolent.


    Proprietor of THE OASIS OF DREAMS.


    The Magic Lamp Society.


    #1 ranked djinn by wishes successfully delivered.


    The floating maiden smiled proudly.


    ¡°You see? ¡­ Not only is this perfectly legitimate, but I am indeed the very highest rank djinn there is. It is, quite literally, impossible to be as trustworthy as me. As of this moment, I¡¯ve successfully granted more wishes than any other. And it would be my joy to grant yours as well. Now, merely wish to return home like everyone else, and I shall see it done.¡±


    I raised my arms in exasperation.


    ¡°Are you kidnapping random people to a puddle in the desert to ¡­ to extort wishes?!¡±


    A feigned gasp met me.


    ¡°That is a terrible accusation.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s true!¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest. To suggest this is a kidnapping is highly inappropriate. After all, I didn¡¯t lay a hand on you. Your own morbid curiosity caused you to touch the tent imbued with a teleportation spell clearly noted on a sign hidden behind a tree. If anything, I¡¯m the opposite of a kidnapper.¡±


    ¡°By what logic?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m offering a swift return after a free healing session in a desert paradise. A paradise which is also inhabited by nocturnal sandcrawlers and so it is therefore advised that you leave before nightfall. There are also coconuts. That isn¡¯t kidnapping. It is service.¡±


    My mouth widened in outrage.


    ¡°H-How dare you! If you wish to kidnap me, then it must be both brazen and shameless! To feign ignorance is an insult! ¡­ Do you have any idea how many people try to steal me away?!¡±


    ¡°... No, why? Are you important?¡±


    ¡°Quite so! I¡¯m the most important person you will ever pretend to kidnap!¡±


    The djinn tilted her head slightly, her smile unfading.


    Then¨C


    Poof.


    An ornate spyglass appeared in her hand, no different to the ones used by ships¡¯ captains. She placed it to her eye and squinted.


    It vanished a moment later to a small puff of smoke.


    ¡°Oh. Another princess.¡±


    ¡°Another?! ¡­ How many princesses have travelled that muddy forest road?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not for me to say. Suffice to say, every other princess I¡¯ve met has wished for a safe exit. And all with far less fuss. Now, would you like to make your wish so I can meet my daily quota?¡±


    ¡°I most certainly do not! ¡­ Why, this is absurd! Do djinn not normally tire of granting wishes?!¡±


    ¡°We tire of granting ludicrous wishes. But it doesn¡¯t mean we don¡¯t do it. On the contrary, a djinn¡¯s social worth is entirely tied to how successful they are at making wishes come true. And that means someone who proactively steers the wishes of their customers as opposed to merely inviting whatever unfeasible dream the average human possesses is far more successful.¡±


    I was appalled.


    ¡°This ¡­ This is outrageous! How dare you abduct me for mere social clout! ¡­ At least demand a bag of gold if you¡¯re going to be a roadside brigand!¡±


    The djinn wrinkled her nose.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a roadside brigand. I¡¯m Amissa the Benevolent, and I provide bodily healing to my customers courtesy of a calming trip through an oasis paradise.¡±


    ¡°And does the bodily healing come just before the nocturnal sandcrawlers decide they are peckish?!¡±


    ¡°Occasionally, yes. But once my customers are satisfied, and they always are, they may simply wish themselves home using a variety of predetermined phrases I offer on a menu. However, if for whatever reason you choose not to take up my offer, I¡¯m certainly willing to consider alternative forms of donations. Including, yes, bags of gold ¡­ or perhaps that sword by your waist?¡±


    The djinn made little effort to hide her curiosity as she eyed Starlight Grace¡¯s ruby pommel.


    I regained her attention with a snap of my fingers.


    ¡°No,¡± I said simply. ¡°I know not every law you have, but I know there¡¯s certain to be one against forcing wishes from customers. This is a violation of whatever rules nobody has ever read.¡±


    ¡°Dear customer, forcing you to stay would be a violation of the rules. But by allowing you to leave with but a specific word, you lose nothing. Yes, I maintain my #1 standing amongst my social circle and a title unique to me. But it¡¯s hardly at your expense. This oasis is a lovely experience. I am not evil.¡±


    I leaned towards the djinn. She leaned away.


    ¡°Oh? Then what happens should I wish to return and also for you to compensate me for this needless use of my time?¡±


    The beautiful smile didn¡¯t fade. On the contrary, it only widened.


    ¡°Compensation would be open to interpretation,¡± said the djinn simply. ¡°A warning I give to everybody. But if you feel dissatisfied with my service, then you may take a cushion as a courtesy.¡±


    ¡°I think not. This insult of an extortion is quite enough without your poor quality fabric lining to worsen it. I refuse to offer my begging pleas. You, on the other hand, are free to make yours.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You shall return me to exactly where I was before. And you will do so by revealing the exit which doubtless exists. A djinn¡¯s magic is not foolproof. You did not bring me here with a snap of your fingers. You will not return me in such a way, either.¡±


    The djinn tilted her head slightly. She toyed with the ends of her dark hair.


    ¡°Oh? That¡¯s quite the assumption. But what if such a convenient exit doesn¡¯t exist?¡±


    I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering the smile even more fabricated than hers.


    Then, I leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ why, I suppose I¡¯ll simply have to turn your Oasis of Dreams into an Oasis of Nightmares¨Cuntil you are forced to wish upon a princess for it to end.¡±

 Chapter 349: Soothing Sands

    They say a smile was worth a thousand words.


    They were wrong.


    My smile was worth more words than any tome could contain. And while the greatest scholars might one day hope to discern a fraction of the many nuances which went behind my lips curling upwards, none could truly understand the vast range of hidden meanings I communicated even while napping ¡­ usually resulting in a heap of rainbow macarons I needed to climb out from.


    This time, however, there was little threat of that.


    Because towards a wandering djinn with far too much time on her hands, the smile I offered left nothing for the imagination.


    After all, it wasn¡¯t macarons I wanted. At least not from her. It was a grovelling apology, untold amounts of compensation and whatever else I decided on the spot.


    Thus, I smiled and waited.


    Nothing else was required. For no matter how powerful a djinn¡¯s magic was, little compared to the strength of a princess¡¯s ire. That was a force no wish could repel.


    And so ¡­ the maiden before me could only blink.


    Her own smile faded. Her expression froze.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Pfffffft.¡±


    She burst out into laughter.


    ¡°Ahhahhahaha ¡­ ahahahahahahahaha ¡­ ahahahahha!!¡±


    Clutching her stomach, she keeled over, trying and failing to hold back the amusement.


    Where there was the faintest sheen of feigned politeness before, there was now only rabid chortling. The shameless guffaw of a full tavern rolled into one endless cackle. Loud, crass and bullish.


    I was horrified.


    Why, such crude, slovenly laughter at my expense!


    ¡­ It was exactly the same way as how Coppelia did it! And if she wasn¡¯t allowed to laugh at me in such a crude manner, then neither was anyone else!


    ¡°H-How dare you! This is no laughing matter! ¡­ And even if it was, certainly not like that!¡±


    The djinn wasn¡¯t listening.


    Instead, she merely spluttered and coughed. The previously well-crafted face became creased with amusement as she expelled laughter with all the casual delight of a loitering vagabond who knew every emotion except remorse.


    Fortunately, she could still learn.


    ¡°... Ahaha ¡­ hah ¡­ ugh, pain.¡°


    The djinn grimaced as she straightened herself. Eventually.


    ¡°Actual pain, too. It¡¯s been so long since I last felt such aching. And never this much from mere words. My apologies, dear customer, I mistook you for a simple girl wandering in the woods.¡±


    ¡°And I mistook you for a forest vagrant. I see you¡¯re only a dancing leech instead.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a dancer, yes, but not a leech. The Oasis of Dreams is a lovely experience. Just clearly not for you.¡± The djinn relaxed her smile, then flicked her wrist. ¡°Yes, fine, I¡¯m abusing a loophole to maintain my #1 ranking. But you of all people should understand what social status means.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. But unlike yourself, I¡¯ve no need to hide in the middle of the desert to maintain my standing. I extort my peasants openly. It¡¯s called taxes. And for kidnapping a princess, you¡¯re now due to pay a contribution directly into my bottomless bag.¡±


    I received only a snort in response.


    Somehow, I preferred the rabid laughter.


    ¡°To threaten my Oasis of Dreams is amusing, dear customer. But to make demands of me is just brash.¡±


    ¡°Brash is laughter before I¡¯ve explicitly called for it. But since few retain their wits before me, I can ignore the hysterics¨Cjust not a kidnapping with such a poorly tailored experience. To steal away a princess is the lifelong ambition of every ruffian better than yourself. To do it by chance is an insult.¡±


    The djinn threatened a chortle.


    Instead, she willed her lips together ¡­ just before adopting the same look my history tutor wore when I explained that lessons were cancelled because robbers had for some reason stolen every chalkboard in the Royal Villa.


    ¡°I shall take your words to heart,¡± she said, her tone between bored and bemused. ¡°Sadly, complaints handling isn¡¯t my forte. I must therefore advise you that expending a wish and then going about your day is far easier than arguing for the sake of pointless pride.¡±


    ¡°Please. Pride is the most important thing anyone can have. Without it, everyone might start loitering in a forest like a common roadside hoodlum. I can think of nothing worse.¡±


    I held up my palm as the djinn opened her mouth, her face daring to wear a mild hint of indignation.


    ¡°¨CAfter all, there will eventually be someone who refuses to be coerced. So here is my advice. I suggest you point the way to the exit as well as a bag of suitable compensation. You might be a djinn. But I am a princess. And I grant my own wishes.¡±


    I waited for a fingertip to point the way.


    It never arrived. Only a raised eyebrow and a final snort of the day.


    ¡°I am a djinn,¡± she declared, floating a little higher for the sake of it. ¡°I can become ethereal, invisible, air. Only the most powerful of magic may move me. And I do not invite mages to be my customers. What threats will you make other than to my stomach, wandering princess, before you inevitably wish yourself away once the sandcrawlers wake for a midday snack?¡±


    It was a question which expected no reply.


    After all, djinn were as shameless as they were elusive. The utter lack of concern on her face spoke as loudly as the mist swirling beneath her hips, ready to take her away at a moment¡¯s notice.


    But I wasn¡¯t making a threat. I was making a promise. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Thus¨C


    I peered around, identified the greatest pile of cushions ¡­ and then duly sat myself down.


    ¡°Very well, then. I shall stay.¡±


    The djinn stared at me as I brushed the sand from the side of my boots.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°My congratulations. You shall now play host to a princess.¡±


    ¡°You desire to experience the Oasis of Dreams, then ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I do. I¡¯ve been needlessly dismissive. The sparkle of the pond is truly mesmerising. I shall therefore experience it today, tomorrow and for all the days thereafter. This will now be my permanent residence. Thank you for inviting me to live in your abode.¡±


    The djinn¡¯s mouth suddenly widened.


    ¡°I am not inviting you to live here ¡­ and neither are the sandcrawlers. I mentioned them, yes? Several times?¡±


    ¡°You did, yes. And I¡¯m certain they¡¯ll make fine pets.¡±


    ¡°Sandcrawlers are not pets. They¡¯re massive, burrowing monstrosities whose appetites cannot be quenched even by consuming the very ground. They¡¯re voracious and utterly without mercy.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. I look forward to taming them. Given their description, I expect they¡¯ll do a wonderful job in ensuring that any unwanted guests remain at arm¡¯s length.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Like customers who overstay. Which they will do since they¡¯re very hungry.¡±


    ¡°Well, then why not ring a bell and summon them immediately?¡±


    A blink met my suggestion.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°To leave them hungry is needlessly cruel. I see your table is as sparse as your manners, but we can at least offer them some coconuts. By all means, please invite the sandcrawlers. I¡¯m certain you¡¯re on good enough terms with them by now, given that they clearly leave your tent alone.¡±


    I waited for the djinn to whistle, clap her hands or tap her heels.


    She didn¡¯t. And so I feigned a gasp, fluttering my eyelashes for effect.


    ¡°Ah, what¡¯s this? Could it possibly be that despite kidnapping innocents like a common hoodlum, you don¡¯t actually intend for your victims to die? Perhaps there¡¯s a rule or two about that? Or maybe the blood stains would simply be an awful distraction for when the next princess comes along to judge this sandy wasteland you call a paradise?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a wasteland,¡± said the djinn at once. ¡°It¡¯s practically a hammock. One in great demand. And so every customer is only allowed to stay for their allotted time slot.¡±


    ¡°My, I had no idea that actually indulging in your pond would be an inconvenience. So rejoice¨CI¡¯m going to stay here. Forever. And each time a peasant comes along, I¡¯ll ensure that every wish you extort will also include a scathing review until you¡¯re doomed to irrelevance amongst your social circle.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. You cannot possibly be threatening to stay forever just to spite me.¡±


    I offered a warm smile in response.


    The djinn stared, her eyes narrowing as she leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°... My gods,¡± she whispered after a moment. ¡°You actually are.¡±


    A look of utter disbelief met me.


    I hardly saw why.


    After all¨Cto be a paragon of truth was to be a princess.


    Ohhohohoohoho!


    Indeed, here it was!


    My most powerful, ultimate ability!


    ¡­ [Princess Obstinacy]!


    ¡°I can spend endless days within the comfort of my bedroom,¡± I proudly declared. ¡°And while a tent in the middle of nowhere hardly compares, the fact remains that I will not be daunted and never extorted. So rest assured¨Cwhile the world ebbs and flows and your rivals overtake your standing, I will be right here, enjoying every moment until you break. So let us see who moves first. I am patient. Are you?¡±


    The djinn looked indignant.


    The wind swirling beneath her heightened. And for a moment, it almost looked like she was going to accept my heartfelt challenge.


    ¡°Ugh. Humans.¡±


    Instead ¡­ she simply rolled her eyes.


    ¡°I offer a healing salve for your, frankly, awful existences. And all I receive in return is either suspicion or outright hostility. Well, be glad that I truly am a benevolent djinn and not one of my more carnivorous cousins. So fine. Have it your way. I¡¯ve no desire to be inefficient. Keep your wish and enjoy whatever calamity comes about from having it. It is of no concern to me.¡±


    Poof.


    All of a sudden, a glowing, magical doorway with a mirror-like surface appeared beside my stack of cushions.


    The sight of a beautiful green forest comforted my eyes at once. And also Apple¡¯s nose ¡­ followed by his jaws as he proceeded to try and eat my exit.


    He was shooed away a moment later by Coppelia, who showing all the grace of a handmaiden, stuck her face against the other side of the doorway. Her cheek squished against an invisible window, her large turquoise eyes blinking with curiosity as she tapped away with a fingertip.


    Why she would stick her face in first and only poke afterwards, I wasn¡¯t certain.


    Still, I nodded.


    Home awaited.


    Hence¨CI rose from my stack of cushions, then offered a grateful smile along with my response.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The djinn stared at me.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not leaving? The exit is right here. Look. I¡¯m pointing at it.¡±


    I held out my palm.


    ¡°Compensation,¡± I duly said.


    A look of utter horror met me.


    That was a good start. But she could do more.


    ¡°You cannot be serious.¡±


    ¡°Ohohohohoho.¡± I raised my other hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. ¡°Why, I¡¯m always serious. Especially when it comes to paying me for my time.¡±


    ¡°What compensation could you possibly want?¡± said the djinn, looking unreasonably aghast. ¡°I have no money!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean no money? You¡¯re a djinn. People plead for wealth all the time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we can¡¯t just conjure gold crowns. Technically, all we do is summon it from elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Then summon it from Granholtz. I¡¯ll even be specific. The safe nearest the bedroom at the top of the White Citadel. It¡¯s possible a woman is sleeping atop it. If so, you can summon her as well. But not here. Somewhere further out in the desert will do.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that. My powers only transcend those of mortal magic when empowered by a wish.¡±


    Ugh. These djinn.


    They were floating nobility. They promised the world, but when it came to their taxes, they suddenly had nothing.


    ¡°Fine. You may offer me what you have on hand. Or rather, your arm. I see you¡¯ve some gold bracelets on you.¡±


    ¡°I cannot give you these!¡± said the djinn, her mouth widening with a huff. ¡°This is part of my dancing attire! And it¡¯s worth more than you could possibly imagine!¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°My, is that so? ¡­ Then I¡¯ll take your bracelets plus everything else you have. I see several rings of middling quality, a necklace of tourmaline beads and a pair of jade ear hoops. They¡¯ll do for a start. Otherwise, I can also remain here and allow you to enjoy my smile until the end of time.¡±


    The djinn wrinkled her nose in a way which could make goblins gasp.


    For a moment, she did nothing but thoroughly compromise her beautiful fa?ade. After all, she knew that my forever presence and all the sweets she¡¯d need to feed me was a joy that a djinn whose roadside mischief hardly deserved.


    Then, she slipped off her various pieces of jewellery with nothing more than a roll of her eyes.


    She lightly flung them towards me. All fell slightly short.


    ¡°You have little idea how threatening that is,¡± she said, already flicking her wrist at me. ¡°Now go, before you ruin my next appointment. Be glad that I¡¯ll only treat this as a business expense.¡±


    I offered a curtsey while scooping up the taxes into my bottomless pouch.


    ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re correct. This has been a healing experience.¡±


    The djinn paused for a moment. A puff of air left her nostrils.


    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome,¡± she said, arms crossing as she turned away, one part stoic professionalism and one part indignant. ¡°And remember¨CAmissa the Benevolent. Be certain to leave a good review.¡±


    She waited, adamantly looking anywhere but me.


    At least until I still wasn¡¯t leaving.


    ¡°... Why aren¡¯t you gone?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not done yet.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re not done yet? What more do you want? Sand?¡±


    I pointed outside while wearing the smile she¡¯d be missing.


    ¡°Please give me some coconuts.¡±

 Chapter 350: Fanning The Flames

    Apple¡¯s hooves submerged themselves in the mud.


    Yes, mud.


    Not just the crumbly dirt which caked the hems of every dress woven outside the Royal Villa. But mud so wet a sculptor could shape it to resemble my horrified expression. This was already worthy of a classical faint. And yet what truly threatened to topple me into the waiting arms of my loyal handmaiden as she skipped in the branches far above was something else.


    Hhhffffft.


    Apple snorting ¡­ in joy.


    I was filled with equal dismay.


    After all, for a princess¡¯s horse to act delighted while trudging up the remains of a road maintained exclusively by sludge was highly against form!


    ¡°Apple!¡± I said, utterly aggrieved. ¡°This is not the correct reaction to muddying your hooves! You must turn your head away, whinny in distaste and then refuse to carry me a step further!¡±


    I waited for Apple to put up a fuss.


    Instead, he simply plodded along, the mud squishing beneath his hooves.


    This ¡­ This was terrible!


    All the hard work I¡¯d done in allowing my regal aura to rub off on him was now being smothered by memories of a past life involving drunkards, wheelbarrows and carts!


    There was a time for saving my kingdom and a time for standards ¡­ and that was both simultaneously! After all, what would remain if its princesses began wading through mud? If Apple truly wished to see my realm rescued from the ire of the watching peasantry, he¡¯d refuse to bear me another step!


    A giggle of amusement came from overhead.


    Coppelia, who knew to correctly abandon me whenever our soles were imperilled, smiled as she hopped from one branch to the next.


    ¡°Your roads sure are beat up, huh?¡± she said, chittered at by the squirrels who puffed up their tails before fleeing. ¡°You know, I think it¡¯s getting worse.¡±


    ¡°The roads?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~! When I first came here, your roads were just bumpy and uneven. Now they¡¯re basically meeting spots for giant mudcrabs.¡±


    I held back a groan.


    As my loyal handmaiden, her duty was to sprout the official line ¡­ and yet as a perfectly hidden giant mudcrab scuttled away in terror of Apple¡¯s coming, it was all I could do to bravely ignore the many omens which decided to go my way.


    ¡°O-Ohohoho ¡­ why, did I complain about the mud? By that, I ¡­ I simply meant that Apple should take extra heed of the soft earth which gives rise to so many blooming flowers!¡±


    ¡°Really? I don¡¯t see any flowers in the soft earth. Only the acid spitting mud toads.¡±


    My lips parted to offer a robust defence.


    Instead, I watched as a small group of, yes ¡­ acid spitting mud toads leapt free of the burrow they¡¯d made, chasing after the giant mudcrab whose armour they cared little about.


    ¡°This ¡­ well, this is merely because we¡¯re in the countryside! ¡­ Indeed, here upon the edges of my kingdom, everything is home to nature, and that includes the very roads we travel upon!¡±


    ¡°Oooh, I get it! That¡¯s why you have so many hoodlums!¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡±


    ¡°But just out of curiosity¨Chow much of your kingdom is actually the countryside?¡±


    ¡°H-How much? ¡­ Well, there hasn¡¯t ever been an official declaration ¡­ but suffice to say, the rolling hills, verdant meadows and ancient forests can be seen from all four corners ¡­ and maybe sometimes the middle as well.¡±


    ¡°... Soooooooo, is your entire kingdom just one big countryside?¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°C-Coppelia! How could you ask that? Why, you¡¯ve even visited Reitzlake! A jewel so envied that none outside my kingdom needs to speak of it! The intricate architecture you¡¯ve witnessed cannot possibly suggest everything is simply the countryside!¡±


    ¡°True, very true. I apologise.¡±


    I smiled ¡­ just before narrowing my eyes in suspicion.


    ¡°Truly ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡± Coppelia nodded zealously, her fists to her chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but your doors are seriously impressive!¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ by any chance, are you referring to when you kick them down?¡±


    ¡°The feeling is amazing! I¡¯ve kicked doors all over the place. Most of them way nicer looking. But the ones in this kingdom crumble just the right way. Like a nice sponge cake after that first bite.¡±


    This time, a groan escaped me.


    Not because the doors of my kingdom were more destructible than those belonging to my neighbours. On the contrary, that was simply a testament to the thoughtfulness of my craftsmen, knowing that if their doors were to be kicked down, then they may as well be built to do so spectacularly.


    Rather ¡­ it was because my tummy was rumbling.


    Coppelia had said the taboo word of the day.


    Cake.


    Slowly, I swallowed a deep breath. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Hoping against hope, I leaned to the side and opened up the designated bakery bag.


    What stared back were coconuts.


    Just coconuts.


    Not a single croissant waiting to shed half its weight in flaky pastry for the deer to nibble on.


    The implications were dire.


    After all, it wasn¡¯t only us who were suffering. Our crumbs were responsible for feeding half the wild animals of my kingdom. A habit which meant they didn¡¯t need to nibble on my orchard instead. And now it was all being threatened.


    ¡°Coppelia ¡­ there is no cake.¡±


    ¡°There are goblin moss cakes,¡± she said merrily. ¡°You haven¡¯t touched your share yet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s untrue. I thoroughly poked them. All lack the texture of the moss cake the halfling made.¡±


    ¡°I mean, those were less moss cakes and more just breaded deliciousness in a palm. Real goblin moss cakes are a lot more plain. And nutritious.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly an advertisement. If a cake doesn¡¯t instil immediate feelings of regret just by holding it, then it¡¯s no good. That¡¯s where the joy is derived.¡±


    ¡°In that case, you¡¯ll be happy to know that squished moss cakes are at the bottom of the bag maturing with the coconuts! I was saving them for later, but you can have them too. There¡¯s no way you won¡¯t feel regret just by looking at them.¡±


    ¡°My, thank you very much. But they¡¯re yours. I insist.¡±


    ¡°You sure?¡±


    ¡°Very sure ¡­ after all, I intend to be consuming a mille-feuille with pralin¨¦ mousseline cream and crunchy hazelnut bits by the end of the day!¡±


    I offered a confident smile.


    Ohohohoho!


    Indeed, although my tummy was wavering, my heart was not!


    True, this was the greatest crisis that we, or rather, my entire kingdom had ever faced.


    A budding peasant revolt was a problem dwarfing the schemes of any hoodlums now fated to craft soap until I remembered their plight. Because the coconuts aside, our provisions were now bare. And when all was bitter in taste, all was bitter in life.


    However!


    I was no lesser princess, doomed to the despair of a world with sugar free confectionery. I didn¡¯t just sit upon my hoard of princess points while smiling condescendingly upon my peers simply for show.


    No ¡­ it was also so I could leap over them when opportunity demanded!


    ¡°Fear not,¡± I said, smiling as I placed a hand upon my chest. ¡°Although these past few days have been fraught with hardship, know that this will soon come to an end. Not only will we soothe whatever outrageous concerns the most ignored of my peasants have, but we shall also turn them into my kingdom¡¯s most ardent subjects.¡±


    Coppelia hopped down from her branch. Her arms sprang up with joy as she landed.


    ¡°... Bribery! Sweeteners! Hush money!¡±


    I was appalled.


    ¡°E-Excuse me! I am not going to bribe my peasants!¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay. Is that because you think it¡¯s too expensive or it wouldn¡¯t work?¡±


    ¡°Neither! ¡­ It¡¯s because it¡¯s against principles.¡±


    Coppelia tilted her head slightly.


    ¡°Eh? Really?¡±


    ¡°Of course! ¡­ Why, if I started bribing irate peasants, they¡¯d stop farming and start complaining instead. That¡¯s far more profitable. And once complaining is all they do, they¡¯re already halfway to becoming nobility. I could never have my farmers suffer such a humiliating downturn in status.¡±


    I shook my head, my empathy overwhelming.


    That¡¯s right! My peasants might be unreasonably voicing their dissatisfaction, but that hardly justified such a demeaning response!


    Fortunately, there were better balms available¨Call of which involved my gentle touch.


    ¡°Naturally, this won¡¯t be an easy affair. But it needn¡¯t be complicated, either. It¡¯s clear that the recent calamities through no fault of my kingdom is the cause of this unease. As such, all I need to do is reassure my peasants that the worst has already passed.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh~! That¡¯s brave of you. I¡¯m impressed!¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°If you say the worst has already passed, then that pretty much guarantees something terrible is going to happen. I¡¯ve never heard anyone actually say those words.¡±


    ¡°Coppelia, I¡¯ve already been to Ouzelia. There¡¯s no possibility of anything more terrible happening.¡±


    My loyal handmaiden gasped.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then swiftly glanced around in every direction.


    ¡°P-Perhaps I won¡¯t use those exact words ¡­¡±


    The giggling assailed me at once.


    I ignored it and looked ahead, setting my sight upon the top of the muddy slope.


    Somewhere beyond was the first glimpse of the Wessin Bridge¨Cas well as whatever scenes of restlessness awaited. True, I had little idea how severe the discontent was ¡­ but while this was doubtless a delicate matter, I was also a delicate princess.


    Indeed!


    As long as my peasants weren¡¯t needlessly angered any further, everything could be fixed!


    In fact¨Cthere was just one problem.


    ¡°Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~?¡±


    ¡°Do you smell something rather ¡­ distressing?¡±


    ¡°Yup. It¡¯s like your towns. But worse. I¡¯m shocked. That¡¯s really hard to do.¡±


    I frowned in puzzlement.


    Because as Apple crested the slope, a pungency as familiar as it was utterly out of place assailed me.


    Indeed, it was what I woke up to during the height of my kingdom¡¯s various celebrations¨Cwhen the Summer Solstice Festival was in full bloom, when a royal birthday was being celebrated or when my father found a poetry book that an unnamed princess had tied with stones and dumped in the middle of a lake filled with carnivorous piranhas.


    It was the fumes of cologne. The oil of hair wax. The whiff of charcoal powder.


    A cauldron of unfortunate scents needed for the upkeep of personal grooming used exclusively by the knights of my realm. Quite a few as well, given the way my nose instinctively wrinkled.


    This was odd.


    My knights were always busy.


    What with, I didn¡¯t know. Nobody did. Except that it didn¡¯t involve each other.


    Unless drawn to a common cause involving festivities, caf¨¦s and very occasionally, battles, they had no cause to be here. There were no tournaments to be found near the Wessin Bridge.


    ¡­ But that didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t create one for themselves.


    ¡°W-W-What is this ¡­ ?!¡±


    My mouth fell open at the sight before me.


    The banners rose high as their open tents, revealing knights stood vigilantly behind mirrors, their eyes stern as they studied the smoothness of their chins. Swords, lances and armour were on display, arranged upon tables in such a way that they could be efficiently fitted at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Loud as the colours of their banners, the knights of my kingdom readily put the boasting of common louts to shame. Within the boundary of their makeshift wooden fences, cheers and winces filled the air as jousting knights took turns crashing into each other.


    Everywhere I looked was the fervour of chivalry-approved hooliganism ¡­ as well as complete ignorance regarding my despair.


    Because there¨Cscarcely a stone¡¯s throw from the impromptu joust, were the first of my irate peasants.


    ¡°You! I know you! How dare you show your face again after deceiving my daughter! She still thinks you want to marry her!¡±


    ¡°Thieves! All of you! You barge into my tavern and leave only broken chairs! You need to pay for every last bit of damage!¡±


    ¡°You good-for-nothings! How dare you call yourselves knights after escaping through my window! It wasn¡¯t enough that you snuck in, you broke my house on the way out!¡±


    ¡°Villains! I had to replace all the straw in my barn after what I caught you doing!¡±


    I was horrified.


    Before me was the only thing which could stoke the flames further than I could soothe.


    ¡­ The presence of those responsible for half the stress of my kingdom¡¯s fathers!

 Chapter 351: A Raven In The Night

    Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.


    An unusual silhouette flew across the face of the moon.


    Were anyone to look up, they''d be forgiven for thinking themselves mad.


    Although horrors as great as fire breathing dragons, giant cockatrices and common seagulls might be expected to terrorise the night sky, few would ever expect to see a young maiden skirting beneath the clouds.


    Even fewer would expect the young maiden to be wearing pink pyjamas.


    ¡°Nnnnhh ¡­ uwaaa~¡±


    Miriam Estroux yawned as her small, bat-like wings struggled to propel her forwards.


    Usually, vampires revelled in their mastery over flight. Because for all the things which fled at their coming, none parted as swiftly as the clouds. Unlike the daytime, the moonlit sky was their domain.


    Usually.


    Because unlike other vampires ¡­ Miriam was chronically malnourished.


    It was even official.


    The Royal Villa¡¯s resident physician had told her.


    He didn¡¯t even need to poke her. He¡¯d just looked.


    She¡¯d politely declined the offer of a goat. For one thing, goats were cute and she didn¡¯t want to be the reason for a goat telling all its goat friends the reason why it was having a bad day. Which being drained by a vampire would most certainly result in.


    But for another, she didn''t like blood.


    Not a single bit.


    She didn''t like the look of it. She didn''t like the taste of it. And she certainly didn''t like the process of stabbing something with her teeth which really didn''t want to be stabbed while drinking them like a mango smoothie.


    Other vampires thought differently, of course.


    But other vampires chose their path of unlife for reasons usually to do with felling kingdoms from the shadows while forging an empire of endless blood sacrifices and free maiden buffets.


    Miriam just wanted to read.


    And for the most part, she¡¯d achieved her wish.


    Ignoring the adventurers, heroes and sisters who would chide her on daring to leave everyone alone before then trying to burn her for it, unlife as a vampire was more or less what she expected.


    But that didn¡¯t mean she never paused.


    Although she was never a social butterfly, the fact remained that centuries of solitude sometimes made even the least extroverted wonder if it was necessarily healthy to only hear the sound of her own squeals as The Phantom Rogue swiped another heirloom pendant from around the neck of a young duchess via sweeping her whole from a moonlit window.


    These days, she didn''t need to wonder.


    Each hour spent in the Royal Villa was filled with sound. Of servants hurrying to-and-fro. Of a library being steadily expanded. Of maids playing and fussing over her silver hair.


    Miriam never knew she missed these sounds.


    But far from distracting her from her reading, they only added colour to it. A backdrop of life in a royal household, mimicking much of what she read in her books.


    Just minus the dashing thieves.


    After all, there were many places where riches could be illicitly earned. And of them, most didn''t have a troll guard diligently polishing the vault door.


    In Reitzlake alone, there were endless estates and manors, each lightly guarded, yet boasting secrets hidden to the eyes of the tax inspectorate. However, while the nobility were adept at hiding their treasures, they were less capable of moving them.


    No matter how subtle the mouse in the field, the raven upon the branch would always see it.


    And this one was swimming alone in a wide river.


    Fwip. Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.


    Below her, Miriam found what she was searching for.


    A merchant''s vessel navigating the river out of Reitzlake and towards the Wessin Bridge. Revealed beneath the moonlight, its trailing wake against the calm waters was as clear as footsteps in the snow.


    An unusual scene when dawn was so far away.


    All the more so given the amount of activity. The ship was narrow and slim, yet more sailors swarmed its deck than any vessel of its size could reasonably demand. They flitted about like ants freshly woken from their nest, their smiles lit by the torches and the coins exchanging hands.


    Even from up high, the faint laughter could be heard.


    A chorus of satisfaction. Of complacency. Of a successful escape.


    Miriam nodded.


    And then ¡­ she slowly descended.


    Another tired yawn soon filled the air. Given the size of her wings, she had to supplement her flying with magic. The endeavour was more draining than any lich¡¯s touch. And yet by the time she was peering through the window of the captain''s quarters, all sense of fatigue left her.


    She listened for a moment, hearing nothing but the creaking of the vessel and the voices from the deck.


    ¡°[Frozen Touch].¡±


    Then, a panel of glass turned into a layer of frost against her palm.


    With the following tap, it silently shattered.


    Miriam floated inside, her wings beating furiously as her feet touched the newly made carpet upon the wooden floor. It was the richest piece of decoration. Sparse and discreet, few would ever suspect that a treasure worth more than the value of the ship and all its crew was within this modest cabin.


    But Miriam hadn''t come here as a regular burglar.


    She was here as the Royal Villa''s newest librarian.


    Her eyes went to the desk. A plethora of journals were on display. Each was a treasure in its own right, for the captain of this vessel was known for as many tales as there were drunken sailors in bars. But Miriam was here for something rarer.


    The Icy Duke''s Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame.


    Specifically, the original manuscript.


    Written almost a century ago and still as divisive as the colour black, it was repeatedly panned as the worst romance book ever written. But all things had value.


    And most importantly, all things were subjective.


    Miriam liked it.


    Ignoring the journals, she swept over to the nearest bookcase and studied the spines with a sweeping finger. She pulled them down one at a time, flicking through the larger tomes for hidden pages as she searched for a treasure many would die to own.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°That¡¯s the wrong shelf.¡±


    Especially if it always came with a crossbow.


    Miriam looked to the side.


    Standing at the open doorway was a woman resplendent in a captain''s formal attire. Despite the deep scar marring her cheek and the long hair covering an eye where most would use a patch, she possessed a striking beauty which only sirens usually boasted while at sea.


    ¡°Well now,¡± said the woman, her crossbow more steady than her ship. ¡°I was told to beware the gulls. A good thing I was on the lookout for vampires instead. A happy coincidence.¡±


    The silver bolt gleamed beneath the moonlight streaming through the windows.


    A deadly weapon, more practical and cowardly than any stake. And were Miriam a different vampire, she would have made the mistake of testing her speed against it.


    For as the captain calmly stepped inside, so too did her sailors.


    A dozen swept past her, huddling before their leader. The cutlasses they wielded were steel, but they were sharp and coated with silver oil dribbling upon the floor.


    Miriam scratched at her tummy.


    ¡°Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart,¡± she said with a nod. ¡°Your ship has fewer cannons than your tales would suggest.¡±


    ¡°My tales are out of date,¡± replied Dread Captain Neritha with a smile. ¡°I¡¯ve since turned a new leaf. As well as a new ship.¡±


    ¡°A sad turn, then. There are few pirates of renown these days.¡±


    ¡°Even fewer now that so many have absconded. Times have been hard on us honest pirates. Our galleons are unwelcome, now with the 1st Princess commanding the Golden Prince¡¯s ship and the man who proposed to me no less than 5 times now nowhere to be seen.¡±


    ¡°I believe the Golden Princes''s whereabouts is public knowledge. If you haven''t yet heard, I''m more than happy to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Please don''t. I much prefer ignorance. It''s less embarrassing that way.¡±


    The Dread Captain¡¯s chin nudged forwards.


    It was enough for the sailors under her command to move at once. Filling a space fit for only half their number, the sailors surrounded Miriam, their silver imbued cutlasses but a lunge away.


    ¡°We do not fear the reach of the kingdom, whether they serve in life or death. You made a mistake in coming here, vampire. Our backs can be caned, but not our pride.¡±


    ¡°Then you''ve nothing to fear. I didn''t come for your pride. Only a book.¡±


    ¡°Well, that sounds like a negotiation to me. In that case, my galleon is waiting. I''m certain we can include any item you desire as part of your ransom.¡±


    Miriam yawned with a hint of her fangs.


    ¡°Very well. I will make the first offer ¡­ Anise?¡±


    The sailors tensed. Unlike their captain, they wore their apprehension more freely.


    All the more so as they suddenly retreated as one.


    ¡°Tea is ready.¡±


    As if she''d always been there, a smiling maid in a distinctly custom uniform appeared beside Miriam.


    The sailors took several steps back to the sight of her cheerful smile. They were right to. Although the claws she''d apparently once possessed as a banshee were no more, it didn''t mean she was harmless.


    After all, what shone more than her smile was the tea pot she held upon a small plate.


    One which held very little tea.


    ¡°This is a flaming tea pot,¡± said Miriam matter-of-factly. ¡°Inside is one of the most volatile liquids ever conceived. If dropped or improperly handled, the tea pot will violently explode, releasing the liquid and setting your ship and all it holds ablaze.¡±


    Widened mouths met her declaration ¡­ mostly over the fact that a vampire was stooping so low as to use a tea pot as a threat.


    The indignation was brief.


    An enthusiastic maid gave the tea pot the slightest of tilts, resulting in a small sprout of something more green than red erupting from the tip. Terror filled every expression. All except the Dread Captain¡¯s.


    ¡°A vampire willing to use fire,¡± she said with a hard smile. ¡°How quaint. Are you also willing to see your prize burn as well?¡±


    ¡°The Icy Duke''s Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame survived more 1 star reviews than there are actual stars in the sky. It can survive fire. The only thing which threatens it is the dust on whatever shelf you would see it languish upon.¡±


    Dread Captain Neritha''s smile didn¡¯t fade.


    Even so, her eyes noticeably narrowed.


    A moment later, she motioned again with her chin. This time behind her.


    ¡°Out.¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Everyone out. I will handle the vampire.¡±


    Hesitation answered her. A single frown later, and all the sailors pretending not to be relieved slowly filed out, cutlasses held aloft even as the door closed before them.


    Now alone, the Dread Captain stared over her crossbow.


    ¡°... So, what do you think of the book?¡± she asked, her tone bereft of emotion.


    ¡°I think it is a work of historical relevance and a classic in its own right.¡±


    ¡°That wasn''t my question.¡±


    Miriam gave a hum of consideration.


    ¡°Entertaining and unpretentious. I think it''s a scandal that it never received a sequel. Readers at the time simply weren''t allowed to express their true feelings. If it was released today, it would be competing with A Court Lady''s Indiscretion upon the windows of bookstores.¡±


    A moment of silence answered.


    ¡°Heh.¡±


    The woman nodded.


    Suddenly, a flame shone in her one eye, greater than any which could be emitted from even the most dangerous of tea pots.


    And then¡ª


    Thwack.


    She loosed the silver bolt nestled upon her crossbow ¡­ tearing away a map draped upon a wall.


    Revealed was a small, rectangular alcove. Only a handful of books fitted within. Each was instantly recognisable, their spines as colourful as the words of scandal and illicit affairs within. All except one.


    Miriam offered an appreciative nod.


    Tattered and frayed, there was no hint it was the same book which had shaped all of her current reading habits ¡­ including those of Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart ¡­ or as she was known in certain circles, The Kraken Girl.


    ¡°Ah, such a shame,¡± she said, casually tossing her crossbow to the side. ¡°Despite a dozen noble ladies each threatening to stab me for the right to slobber over this book, it seems the choice has been taken out of my hands. Against a dangerous vampire threatening alchemical fire, what can I do?¡±


    Miriam carefully retrieved the manuscript from the alcove.


    No complaints were levelled against her. After all, in the literary world of romance, all shared a bond of camaraderie. Especially when it concerned works nobody wished to admit they secretly enjoyed, despite everyone sharing the same sentiment.


    She offered it to Anise, who accepted it upon her free palm with trained ease. Despite a dangerous tea pot and a priceless book in either hand, the maid still managed to bend her knees in a polite curtsy before vanishing as easily as she arrived.


    A gesture soon to be followed by Miriam.


    ¡°The dangerous vampire offers her gratitude,¡± she said, nodding with a pleased smile. ¡°This is a rare find and must be preserved. May I ask how you came to find it?¡±


    ¡°Same way I find most things. By cheating at cards better than the one in front of me.¡±


    A lie.


    Miriam knew it at once. She wasn¡¯t confrontational, but at the same time, she also hadn''t created one of the most comprehensive networks of publishing industry contacts across multiple kingdoms without being able to discern falsehoods from truths.


    Plus, the woman''s brow was twitching.


    ¡°Such works are rarely found alone,¡± she said, her voice as insistent as she could make it while yawning. ¡°Or without reason. If there are more, I''d like to know while I¡¯m on my monthly stroll outside.¡±


    The Kraken Girl shrugged.


    ¡°Usually, I''d agree with the sentiment. But curiosity is a dangerous thing. Even more so when it comes with a bucket full of bad omens.¡±


    ¡°Why? Where did you find it?¡±


    ¡°A house,¡± came the simple reply. ¡°A nice little one as well. All the way out in the woods, overtaken by the weeds and the riff-raff from Reitzlake thinking the trees were enough for us to forget them.¡±


    ¡°Do you mean to say outlaws possessed this book?¡± asked Miriam, mostly out of hope.


    ¡°If they did, they kindly chose not to burn it. Didn¡¯t find the ones I was looking for, but found where they were staying instead. An abandoned lordling''s home. Mostly emptied, but they left what they couldn''t steal, break or read. That was everything in the library.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ and did you find many other books?¡±


    ¡°Plenty. And they''re still waiting for you if you can find them.¡±


    ¡°Why? You didn''t collect them?¡±


    ¡°Tried to. I came back with as many wheelbarrows as I could fit between the trees. Didn''t need to bother. I couldn''t find that nice little house again. Only mist as thick as smoke. And also half my crew gone cold with sweat. Bad omens all around.¡±


    The Dread Captain nodded seriously. Miriam blinked.


    ¡°... Is that it?¡± she asked in all earnestness.


    ¡°That''s it. And that''s all anyone needs to know. A sailor''s intuition doesn''t stop just because it''s land. We got lucky. That wasn''t a place meant for those who walk this world, living or unliving. I expect curses work the same on us all.¡±


    It did.


    But Miriam didn''t just walk. She also flew. And for the moment, she was still awake.


    ¡°This is a wide stretch of countryside,¡± she said, blinking to keep her eyes fully open. ¡°It makes sense if there are homes once occupied by rural nobility here. Did this home have any emblems or insignias on the walls or doors?¡±


    ¡°Sure did. Each as scary as a bump in the night.¡±


    ¡°Why? What was it?¡±


    The Dread Captain wore a slight smile.


    Then, she pointed towards her lips.


    ¡°Like a masked face twisting into a laugh.¡±


    Miriam became utterly still.


    Suddenly, all thoughts of buried romance books exited her mind. For the image she saw instead was clearer than all the embossed covers still waiting for her to categorise.


    A laughing mask.


    It was a household crest she''d seen often.


    An unusual, even unfashionable choice for a coat-of-arms. Yet it suited the one she¡¯d last seen wearing it. Likely since he¡¯d picked it out himself. That man was always nothing if not whimsical. A fact which made up most of his charisma.


    After all¡ª


    It was how he''d convinced Miriam to become a vampire.

 Chapter 352: The Masters House

    The mist was formed of magic.


    Miriam could tell by the tingling in her wings.


    To others, it was a cold which sapped willpower itself. A deterrent more effective than any wall. But to her, it was little more than a pleasant tickle. And perhaps it was true for those who lived here as well.


    And that meant there was competition.


    Miriam knew little about what went on in the kingdom outside of its bookshops, but she didn''t need to imagine who would make their homes in the lawless forests where nearby towns were few and unguarded farms were plenty.


    She saw them instead. Or at least where they¡¯d slept.


    Hints of camaraderie revealed themselves to her as she weaved amidst the mist. Campfires turned to ash. Bundles of tattered bedrolls. Racks of fish now so rotten even the crows stayed away.


    And then she saw the scars.


    There were wounds upon trees where they''d been struck by instruments more blunt than sharp. The outlaws here managed to make enemies of each other more than they did of any guards. And their prize was to loiter upon the doorstep of the least welcoming abode in the woods.


    An abandoned manor house.


    Miriam blinked down at the sight.


    Rather than appearing from a distance, its fa?ade of imposing stone, black tiles and pointed chimneys came with little warning. Locked within a boundary of mist, only silence was there to greet her as she lowered herself before the door.


    Dread Captain Neritha Blackheart hadn¡¯t downplayed its ominousness.


    Ivy had claimed much of the walls, creeping over the balconies and smothering the windows. Or at least those that were visible.


    Despite the presence of the moonlight, all it did was reveal the darkness blinking from within. A feeling of foreboding permeated this place, deeper than any grave.


    Miriam nodded ¡­ all the wondering why she never considered having her own haunted mansion.


    Despite the presence of brigands, the lack of furniture strewn outside was evidence that solitude was possible. She held no complaints about her cave in Stermondt, of course. It was cosy and warm. And she had even fewer complaints about her tidy bedroom now. But if she knew that a secluded manor drowning in fog was more than just a gimmick, she would have made one herself.


    Miriam realised there was much for her to learn.


    And she¡¯d begin by finding out whether or not she was the only vampire in the kingdom.


    Knock. Knock.


    She lifted the door knocker in the shape of a laughing mask and announced her presence.


    A moment later, she was welcomed by a door creaking open and a dark hallway lit by the dimmest candles available. She gratefully accepted.


    Stepping inside, she waited for the door to close behind her before admiring the atmosphere.


    There were no cobwebs or dust. But there was something more ominous. A malevolence lived within this manor. A chill which seeped from the regal furnishings. And despite the laughing of the masks on the walls, no such sound greeted her.


    ¡°... Hnnffghhh ¡­ !!¡±


    Only a muffled cry was there instead.


    Miriam paused, tilting her head as she listened.


    Desperate and faint, it was rather like Miriam struggling to escape the combs of the maids when they saw the sloppy state of her hair moments after waking up.


    All she heard next was the floor creaking as she followed the candles.


    They lit a path before her, winding through the hallways rich in decoration but empty of colour. The chill became more prominent as she went, the pleasant tickle turning into an icy finger against her skin.


    She still didn¡¯t mind. And before long, she arrived at the most foreboding place yet.


    A dining chamber fit for a banquet.


    Here, a long table draped in white linen was revealed beneath a spidery chandelier. A dozen guests were already seated, each the politest diners any host could ask for.


    After all, they were dead.


    Skeletons in formal attire sat in various poses of conversation, skulls lifted back in silent laughter or hands raised in a toast. But while Miriam couldn''t speak on behalf of the atmosphere, she at least saw that the table didn¡¯t lack in food.


    ¡­ Just not the type she usually snacked on.


    ¡°Mmmmffphh!! Mmnhhhfh!! Nnnphh!!¡±


    A freckled girl squirmed upon the table.


    Wearing the simple dress of a common villager, she struggled against the ropes which bound her. Yet despite her frantic movements, she managed to only flop upon the table like a trout upon land.


    However, as if sensing the sudden draft through the doorway, she turned her head and blinked at the new arrival. A look of desperate hope filled her face at once.


    Miriam was horrified.


    She''d made eye contact.


    That meant she now had to do something ¡­ maybe, probably.


    Anything else was too awkward.


    Feeling the weight of expectation upon her shoulders, Miriam scooted forwards, then apologised to the skeletons as she reached past. The girl stopped squirming. But not because her inexperienced saviour was now here.


    It was because of the figure observing from above.


    ¡°... And which burglar, I wonder, would be so crass as to dare steal away my meal?¡±


    Miriam looked up.


    There upon a balcony was the spitting image of an aristocrat.


    A man who was tall and slim, with an expression as stern as the fa?ade of his manor.


    It fit with his attire. A court tunic as immaculately woven as his hair¨Cpure white, long and wavy in the style of a powdered wig. Except that unlike the actual powdered wigs popular with dukes, admirals and balding men, his was very much real.


    He just spent a lot of time on it.


    Master Harkus of Revarin.


    Keeper of the shadows. Scion of darkness. Count. Lord. Duke. And the person who''d offered Miriam the first leaflet concerning all things vampirism.


    He had all of these titles and more. It didn¡¯t matter. His first was superior.


    He was a master of his own kind, whose name had outlasted even the kingdom he was born in. Even if few would ever guess that. Only in his eyes was there a hint of his true age.


    They were dark and sunken, like wells which had yet to find the bottom.


    ¡°Speak now,¡± he said, the icicles practically forming in his words. ¡°Or forever hold your peace. I do not entertain unexpected guests. But I do permit them to leave¡ªin soul, if not in body.¡±


    A moment later, the mottled skeletons around the table began to labour in their seats.


    Miriam didn¡¯t pay them any attention. She blinked at the frowning figure above.


    Then, she offered a wave.


    ¡°Hello, Mr. Harkus. It''s me.¡±


    The skeletons paused. As did the lips of the master vampire which had begun to curl into a smirk.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A moment later, he squinted while leaning over the balcony.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°... Why, if it isn''t the young countess herself!¡±


    Fwooooosh.


    All of a sudden, light filled the dining chamber.


    Both the darkness and the ominous atmosphere was brushed aside as torches, braziers, candelabras and no less than three additional chandeliers burst to life.


    It was nothing compared to the delight upon the master vampire''s face.


    He hopped down without reservation, gracefully landing beside the skeletons and the girl whose eyes were wide with terror. Especially as a small flock of bats appeared seemingly out of nowhere.


    ¡°Miriam Estroux!¡± said Master Harkus, his arms raised in joy. ¡°How little you''ve grown! I do apologise. I expected you to be ¡­ well, not quite dressed like that. What manner of attire are you wearing, may I ask?¡±


    Miriam lifted the sleeve of her pyjamas.


    ¡°It''s modern fashion.¡±


    The master vampire hummed, then nodded regardless. The warmth not in his blood was very much in his voice.


    ¡°Is it now? Goodness me, how swiftly these things change! It''s a wonder how the feeble minds of mortals even keep up. But then again, I suppose that''s why they''re permanently underdressed. Not like you. You look spiffing ¡­ if also somewhat pale. And not in a good way.¡±


    Master Harkus leaned forwards and studied Miriam¡¯s complexion with academic curiosity.


    ¡°... You look parched. Peasants not to your noble taste, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Well, no,¡± she said truthfully.


    ¡°I see. Understandable. Standards once raised cannot be lowered. But that''s why we only pick the best. I see you''ve already experienced the issues with that. Have you made a farm yet?¡±


    ¡°A farm?¡±


    ¡°Of those containing suitable lineage. I''d be stunned if you haven''t. With your familial connections, it should be relatively simple.¡±


    Miriam shook her head.


    ¡°I''m a countess in name only. My former holdings are long lost.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn''t matter. Your title is more important than any jumble of chimneys. And I doubt kowtowing will change no matter how many centuries pass. If you haven''t begun work on your farm yet, I advise it.¡±


    ¡°Um, actually¡ª¡±


    The master vampire instantly held out his palms.


    ¡°Oh, please don''t think I''m pressuring you. I understand well the thrill of the hunt. But I''d be remiss not to say that all vampires are doomed to realise that convenience and sustainability are things that can only be achieved over several centuries of social engineering. Just something to bear in mind.¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°Thank you for the advice. But if you don''t mind, may I ask why you happen to be here?¡±


    ¡°You certainly may! I''ve been resting. Or indulging in triumph, I should say. The downfall of the Rozinthe Imperium was a tiring affair. But equally some of my damn best work. You should have seen it. An empire collapsing. Rebellion on the streets. Flames in every window. And all because I convinced Empress Halyconia that cats were the devil''s pets. The plague which happened? Beyond my wildest expectations. Didn''t need to lift a finger. It was marvellous.¡±


    Master Harkus smiled so broadly that even the jaws of the skeletons seemed to shift into a grin.


    Miriam simply stared.


    ¡°Oh, I see. It''s just that I thought you might have been destroyed.¡±


    ¡°Well, I admit it was close at times. The Cowled Magisters began to suspect interference almost immediately. Luckily, I convinced them that a necromancer was at work. Which was excellent, since there was actually was. Completely accidental. Never felt so guilty about an execution before. His plan was better than mine.¡±


    Master Harkus offered a nod of acknowledgement.


    Then, all was promptly forgotten as he gestured before him.


    ¡°But let''s not indulge in dullness. You are far more exciting. How has the young countess fared in these past few centuries? I promised I wouldn''t pry, but curiosity is ever my weakness after a slumber. Have you subdued any kingdoms or¡ª¡±


    Suddenly, the master vampire paused.


    His eyes widened. And then his palm slapped himself theatrically upon the head.


    ¡°¡ªCountess Miriam, I am ever so sorry.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It''s only natural you''d make this kingdom your first choice of subjugation. The utter thoughtlessness of me. I had no intention of interfering in your schemes. This is so embarrassing. Of course you''d be here to query my presence. Please tell me I haven''t ruined anything.¡±


    ¡°You haven''t ruined anything.¡±


    ¡°... Truly? In that case, perhaps I might be bold enough to offer assistance? I still feel regretful about being so busy last time. If nothing else, we can ensure our plans don''t conflict. Naturally, I''ll concede to you on every point. It''s your kingdom to subdue, after all.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°I have no interest in subduing the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°It sounds tiring.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, I suppose starting slowly is suitable too. What do you have planned, then?¡±


    ¡°To work.¡±


    ¡°... Work?¡±


    ¡°I''ve secured gainful employment as a librarian. In return, I''m offered a weekly salary.¡±


    For a moment, the master vampire did nothing but stare at her.


    And then¡ª


    ¡°Bwahahahahahaahaha ¡­ !!¡±


    The bats which were hanging from the ceiling fled as the master vampire lifted his head, mimicking half the skeletons behind him in riotous laughter.


    ¡°A librarian!¡± he said between bouts of amusement. ¡°Quite the interesting disguise! Goodness, I confess I''ve never even considered using that before!¡±


    ¡°It is not a disguise. I am a librarian.¡± Miriam tilted her head slightly. ¡°... I did say that I only wished to become a vampire so I could read.¡±


    The laughter faded at once.


    Instead, a look of utmost exasperation appeared so suddenly that it was like a river had patiently waited to pour forth from just around the corner.


    ¡°Excuse me? Do you mean to say that your vampiric instincts haven''t shovelled that away yet ¡­ ?¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    The grief expanded ten fold at once.


    ¡°Good hells, Miriam! I don''t know whether to be impressed or horrified. I did not humour your request for unbridled power only to see it wasted on literature! I did it because I saw talent! How has your desire to consume the world from the shadows not emerged? ¡­ Even the merest taste of blood should be enough to awaken it!¡±


    ¡°I don''t drink blood.¡±


    ¡°You don''t drink blood?¡± Master Harkus''s jaw dropped. ¡°How do you even survive?¡±


    ¡°I substitute blood with a diet of tea and sugar.¡±


    ¡°That is atrocious.¡±


    ¡°I like it.¡± Miriam yawned while stretching her arms. ¡°I also like working in a library. It''s fulfilling. But it does mean I have schedules at threat of being delayed. I''m sorry, but is it possible for you to conduct your own work elsewhere? I¡¯m worried about the budget.¡±


    The master vampire looked like he was about to self-combust.


    ¡°Is it possible? Certainly so. Will I do it? Not for that.¡±


    Miriam had no response.


    After all, her only words now were to be directed to the king and queen. She''d need to inform them that a master vampire was present. And that now meant making her excuses, leaving, and then avoiding wherever in the Royal Villa all the silver crossbows were going to be stored.


    There was just one problem.


    Bwam.


    The bound girl as she rolled off the table.


    She gave a small groan against the rope in her mouth, then did her best to flop away. It wasn''t very good. She was as mobile as a tied up ham ready to be roasted.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Miriam, pointing at the girl. ¡°But may I ask who this is?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Master Harkus turned, then nodded. The grief on his face lessened at once. ¡°... Ah, this would be my needless indulgence. I hope you won''t tattle. It''s not good to indulge so soon after waking up, but this one is special. Perhaps you can tell?¡±


    ¡°She looks like a village girl.¡±


    ¡°Oh, she very much is. But her blood is particularly pure. More like a sister''s than a common villager''s. You come across it more rarely these days. Would you like to partake? She''d been an excellent choice to wet your fangs. I¡¯m certain that¡¯s all you need.¡±


    The girl looked up, her eyes slightly swollen and red. She shook her head as much as she was able.


    Miriam looked awkwardly away.


    ¡°Thank you, but I must decline.¡±


    Master Harkus nodded without disappointment. On the contrary, he wore a renewed look of satisfaction as he peered at the squirming village girl.


    ¡°So be it. In that case, I suppose I''m simply forced to observe the most sacred traditions of our kind for the two of us.¡±


    ¡°Hmmmfghh ¡­ !! Nnngff ¡­ !! Nnnnmfh ¡­ !!¡±


    Miriam plucked at the end of her sleeve as the girl looked desperately at her.


    Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do.


    She had to warn the kingdom. That was the most important thing. Attempting to rescue a village girl wasn''t in her interests. She had no means to fight a master vampire even if she were at full strength.


    Moreover ¡­ Miriam simply wasn''t a heroine.


    She had never once appeared beneath the moonlight to save those in need, just like those in the stories she read. Just like a certain princess.


    That wasn¡¯t her role.


    Thus, her shoulders drooped as she readied her excuses ¡­ all the way until she pointed at the girl attempting to snail her way to the window.


    ¡°I will do it,¡± said Miriam simply.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I wish to partake in doing vampire things with the tearful village girl.¡±


    Master Harkus looked at her in shock.


    Then, he raised his arms in joy.


    ¡°Why, so you could sense her purity! Absolutely marvellous! I knew it was only a matter of time! By all means, indulge to your heart''s content! You''ve no need to worry on my account¡ªplease, consider this a belated welcoming gift!¡±


    Miriam smiled. And then she waited.


    ¡°... Will you be watching?¡±


    The master vampire blinked.


    A moment later, he gave a hearty laugh, mimicking the masks upon the walls.


    ¡°My apologies, Countess Estroux,¡± he said, offering a short bow. ¡°I forget my manners¨Cas well as something urgent I happen to need to do. I shall return when it¡¯s appropriate.¡±


    With a merry smile, his form became a flock of bats, taking to the balcony where he had first appeared and leaving only a horrified village girl behind.


    Miriam nodded.


    Then, she leaned down, scooped her up and ran.

 Book 9 Stub Reminder!!!!

    </a>


    Hi there!


    This is a gentle reminder to new (?) readers that Book 9 of the Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer (this time featuring a Princess Knight Juliette) will be stubbed on the 25th. Afterwards, a freshly edited eBook version will be made available on Kindle</a>, KU</a> and Audiobook (soon?).


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Book 9 consists of chapters 287-315, with Book 10 beginning chapter 316 (Everything In Moderation).


    Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!!


    (There will be an additional chapter tonight)

 Chapter 353: Scions Of The Night

    Miriam wasn''t certain how many tales she''d read about innocent maidens being swept up in the arms of their saviour.


    All she knew was that it was a lot.


    And that all of them had eschewed one important detail.


    ¡°Mmmmgnfh?! Mmmgnff!! Mmnnfhgh!!¡±


    It was really hard.


    Miriam was shocked.


    All the evidence she''d gathered through centuries of late night binge reading while sat upon her pillow was unequivocal.


    The problems only started once the villains decided to send their best henchmen. That was usually around the same time every cliff, balcony and tower began crumbling, as well as all the things which didn''t usually explode now being inexplicably filled with combustible material.


    Miriam''s problems began immediately.


    ¡°Ah, apologies ¡­ apologies again ¡­ again, my apologies ...¡±


    Carried upon her arms was a maiden in distress.


    Except that this particular maiden in distress was bigger than Miriam. Not by much, but that didn''t matter. Miriam had a small frame, and while vampirism did much for her eyes, it did little for her figure.


    With time, she could learn to alter her voice, her age and her appearance. She could pretend to be a pauper on the streets or the Grand Duchess herself, weaving a plot as complex as the ending to A Summer Knight¡¯s Dream, Vol III ¡­ so long as the Grand Duchess was also her height, of course.


    Despite the powers of vampirism, not even the darkest of arts could raise one''s physical elevation. That was something archmages were still trying to solve.


    A slight problem.


    Because as it turned out, most people who rescued maidens could actually see over them.


    Pwash.


    A vase smashed against the ground.


    A painting was propelled off the wall.


    A tea table was sent hurtling backwards.


    ¡°Mmgnfh ¡­ ?!¡±


    One after another, Miriam''s hopes of a discreet exit were undone by either the foot or the head of an increasingly distressed village girl.


    It was, to put things bluntly, extremely inelegant.


    Despite the size of the hallways, they were filled with a litany of furnishing. All found themselves targets of her clumsiness as Miriam juggled her bound damsel with the need to speedily exit in a way which didn''t cause more than a handful of winces as pottery shattered around her.


    She was failing.


    Boomph.


    Hence, she had little cause for complaints that upon arriving at the final hallway, what appeared before her was a great sphere of blood.


    It twisted and turned, writhing in the air before imploding into the smiling figure of one whose hair was now slightly more wavy than just before. That wasn''t the only change. His court tunic now had a few more frills. His cravat scarf was a new colour. And his shoes had turned into flared leather boots.


    Miriam was stunned.


    In just the brief time she''d dashed from the dining chamber to the exit, he''d already seen to his hair and wardrobe.


    ¡°... My dear Miriam!¡± said Master Harkus, hurriedly throwing away a comb. ¡°Are you leaving so soon? Why, you''ve only just arrived!¡±


    The village girl trembled in Miriam¡¯s arms. The sounds of either pain or distress had ceased, replaced once again by a silent look of horror.


    ¡°Sadly, I must,¡± she said with a polite nod. ¡°Thank you for seeing to my curiosity. However, I''m afraid I have other engagements to attend. I only wished to know if you''d returned.¡±


    ¡°And so I have. I take it that won''t be an issue?¡±


    ¡°It will not.¡±


    The master vampire raised his arms as though to invite a hug.


    ¡°Well, then I dare say whatever engagements you have can wait another night! This is a special occasion. The last time we spoke, you were scarcely out of the proverbial oven. Now look at you. Already eager to dash away to warn the wrong people that their worst nightmare has now awoken.¡±


    ¡°I''ve no intention of doing such a thing. While I admit I¡¯ve no interest in any ongoing plots you may have prepared, I do not intend to be an obstacle, either. I have a library to manage, and sadly this comes with few luxuries regarding time.¡±


    A hearty chuckle answered her.


    ¡°Well, that I don''t doubt ¡­ most curious, isn''t it? For all our immortality, it seems we don''t have enough hours in the night to do all the things we want.¡±


    Miriam nodded in agreement.


    She''d calculated it herself. Books were coming out faster than she could read. A thought both terrifying and exciting. But mostly terrifying.


    ¡°I agree. And so I¡ª¡±


    ¡°In which case,¡± he interrupted. ¡°I would like to insist upon an extension of your stay. Especially since you intend to enjoy your meal on-the-go. A highly controversial choice for your first indulgence. Trust me when I say that these things are better done in the comfort and proximity of a napkin.¡±


    Master Harkus clicked his fingers.


    A brief fluttering of wings later, a polka dot napkin was delivered upon the village girl¡¯s horrified face via delivery bat. Miriam blew it away.


    ¡°Thank you. But I would like to indulge in the comfort of my own home.¡±


    ¡°And so you may. But not before you consider the ¨¤ la carte menu of wicked schemes I¡¯m simply dying to discuss with you. I¡¯d simply feel terrible if I didn¡¯t at least attempt to convince you. I''ve a variety of plots fit for every kingdom of every size, you see. I''m confident at least one of them will tickle your fancy.¡±


    Miriam raised a brow ¡­ all the while leaning slightly away.


    She''d already had her fill of scheming. Long before she¡¯d been sucked in by her first illicitly acquired novel, she was a member of the nobility, with all the endless conniving that entailed.


    However, this wasn¡¯t the only reason for her sudden discomfort.


    It was the flamboyancy.


    The theatrical movements. The wild gestures. The pompous clothing. The speech more close to a song than any normal conversation.


    Miriam indulged in drama. In the delight of foul ruses and villainous speeches. And yet not even in the worst of her reading history could she find an evildoer who wore his calling so thick that it was like a drape which smothered all necessary thoughts of restraint.


    Master Harkus was the worst image of a vampire, through and through.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    A career scoundrel more sinister than a smile in a tavern corner, whose abode wasn''t in the manors, crypts and castles he owned, but in the shadows they cast.


    To her young self, such adherence to his character was impressive.


    But Miriam was different now.


    Perhaps not outwardly ¡­ and in truth, not a lot inwardly, either.


    But even if her reading tastes hadn''t changed, her standards in pantomimes did. And witnessing such obsessive commitment to duplicitousness was much more embarrassing when it was occurring outside the words of a page.


    It was, in fact ¡­


    ¡°Clich¨¦d.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Clich¨¦d. Your performance is clich¨¦d. And not in an appealing way.¡±


    A blank expression met Miriam''s rare chastisement.


    ¡°Ah ¡­ A-Ahem ¡­ my apologies, my dear countess, but to what do you refer? My honest and virtuous wish to bring you beneath the umbrella of darkness so that you may help spread the canopy?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That.¡± Miriam frowned slightly. ¡°It is tired and overdone. I understand you wish for me to craft an insidious scheme to subvert this kingdom until the people can no longer see the light upon the horizon. But I''ve not a shred of interest in it. And to be frank, I don¡¯t see why you do, either. What purpose is there in scheming for the sake of it, other than to hear your own cackling because no one else will join you? It¡¯s embarrassing. And I think you should stop. Frankly, you¡¯re much too old for this.¡±


    For a moment, the master vampire fell silent and still.


    Even the puffs of his attire seemed to deflate. A silence deeper than any well filled the chilly air.


    Miriam expected the worst, knowing instinctively she¡¯d erred.


    Vampires did not condone insults to their character, no matter how truthful. And in a moment, the fury would flare beneath the cracking of pride just before the walls received a new layer of red paint.


    Instead ¡­ Master Harkus let out a sigh.


    All the merriness was gone ¡­ yet nor was there indignation either.


    Only a sombre expression remained on his face, the sudden creases upon his forehead as foreign as the sight of him covering them with a palm.


    Miriam was deeply confused. As was the village girl in her arms.


    They both waited.


    A moment later, the master vampire gestured towards a sofa against the wall.


    ¡°Please sit.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Take a seat, if you would. It is time that we had a ¡­ little talk.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    However, seeing the entrance still blocked, she slowly took a seat on the sofa. The village girl she awkwardly placed across her lap ¡­ most of her poking off to the side.


    Master Harkus sat beside them.


    An expression of utter seriousness was on his face. One far different from the vampire who''d so jovially welcomed both her appearance and her botched escape.


    ¡°Miriam.¡±


    ¡°Yes ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°My apologies, but I''ve not been entirely open with you.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ ? And what have you not been open with ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°The fact that I¡¯ve not been cursed with smelling the odour of this insignificant kingdom without reason. It¡¯s no coincidence that a captain of a pirate vessel just so happened to find my manor, nor that they could breach the mist which surrounds it. That ¡­ book was to make its way to you. And then you to me.¡±


    Miriam''s apprehension rose. As expected, no gift was free.


    ¡°Very well. And why is that?¡±


    ¡°To have a conversation I hoped to avoid. Sadly, despite my optimism, I see that my worst fears are confirmed. And so it falls upon me to shoulder my portion of the responsibility.¡±


    Master Harkus raised himself slightly.


    His eyes, sunken as they were, seemed even darker as he grappled with the words he wished to speak. A solemn air enveloped him like a lector at a funeral.


    Then, he frowned.


    ¡°You''ve been making us look bad.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°... Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been embarrassing us.¡±


    ¡°Us? Who is ''us''?¡±


    ¡°Us. All of us. Vampires. Your actions have been highly unappreciated.¡±


    Confusion did the rounds in Miriam¡¯s head.


    As far as she knew, she didn¡¯t know any vampires enough to embarrass them.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything,¡± she said honestly.


    ¡°No. If you hadn¡¯t done anything, then that would have been fine. Doing nothing is simply us biding our time before we cause the downfall of the next innocent kingdom. That is perfectly acceptable. What is not, however, is this ¡­ Pink Raven tripe.¡±


    Miriam couldn''t keep her eyes from widening.


    Her identity was a secret known to few. And of them, most were still only hazarding educated guesses. A man with no interest in romance literature could not have known.


    ¡°I don''t know what¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please, you may spare me the denials. Your movements haven¡¯t gone unnoticed¨Cnor your wings. And the result is that I, yes, I had to defend you ¡­ with utterly no warning, I should add.¡±


    All of a sudden, the master vampire threw up a hand in exasperation.


    The sombre atmosphere was flicked aside with it.


    ¡°Allow me to paint the scene for you. There I was, laughing amidst the lifeless warmth of the most pallid company. The blood sucking leeches of the Nocturne Court, all gathered together in a cosy crypt to boast, lie and accidentally push each other into a basin of holy water. A fine evening with rotting dinner, a group of terrified troubadours and room to elevate me in a ceremony long overdue. I was happy. I was content. And yet just when I was due to begin regaling my tale of conquest over Rozinthe for the 99th time, that''s when conversation turned to the matter of my spawn. You.¡±


    He shook his head, for all the world as though Miriam had deliberately sought to disappoint him.


    ¡°... Really? A secret network of literary contacts?¡±


    ¡°Yes? What is the issue?¡±


    ¡°The issue is that if you''d just made that into a network of informants and thralls, then that would have been perfect. It would have been appropriate. What you do instead is ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°How I choose to spend my own time is no concern of yours.¡±


    ¡°It is very much my concern. Because your reputation is the reputation of all vampires. Frankly, I was delighted when I''d heard you''d vanished from your cave. Excellent, I thought. The young countess is finally freeing herself from her shackles. Instead, I hear rumours about a vampire turning up at the home of royalty. Not to enslave them. But to work for them.¡±


    Master Harkus leaned back on the sofa like an old man whose every bone was aching. The sigh he exuded was so cold it turned to mist.


    ¡°... Unholy gods, Miriam. Are you trying to make us a laughing stock?¡±


    ¡°No, I''m trying to keep to my own interests.¡±


    ¡°Your interests are unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°To you, maybe. But I fail to see how the reputation of vampires can possibly get worse just because I''ve chosen to categorise books. All that will do is improve our image.¡±


    Master Harkus''s expression tightened.


    ¡°Our image is precisely what¡¯s at risk. Do you think we¡¯ve worked tirelessly to scheme in the shadows since time immemorial for the sake of it? No. We do it because it is vital. Reputation is our armour.¡±


    ¡°Vampires have blood magic and the ability to turn into bats.¡±


    ¡°Yes. But even that has limits. A very tall limit, yes, but not one immune to our walking desserts suddenly thinking that a silver spoon is enough to destroy us. That is highly inconvenient.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Harkus¡ª¡°


    ¡°Master Harkus.¡± He wagged his finger. ¡°I didn''t personally bring down the greatest empire the continent has ever known only to be confused with a professional cat tamer in Granholtz. From now on, you shall refer to me by my title. That is the proper decorum. And I¡¯ll also ensure that before you leave, you understand the meaning of being a scion of the night. Teamwork makes the dream work, Miriam. And you are not exempt.¡±


    Without an inkling of shame, he instantly brushed aside his ire and replaced it with a smile.


    ¡°Fortunately, it''s nothing blood can''t fix,¡± he said, pointing at the village girl hoping to be forgotten. ¡°Your mind is famished, but I see the cure wriggling upon your lap. Now, do you understand what you must do?


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Will you do it?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    A sigh met her simple response.


    He stood up, adopting a frown like a disappointed parent.


    ¡°Very well. Then I must take matters into my own hands. This no longer only affects you, after all.¡±


    ¡°And what is it that you intend to do ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Something very simple. I will have you drink this squirming girl''s blood¨Cone way or another. With that said, I suggest you enjoy this moment. Especially as you don''t have the strength to say otherwise.¡±


    Miriam stood up as well.


    Doing her best to ignore the pitiable groaning coming from the direction of her arms, she more than matched the frown.


    ¡°Then you shall need to think twice. I possess strength you do not.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re malnourished. What possible strength do you have?¡±


    ¡°A teapot,¡± said Miriam simply.


    The master vampire stared at her.


    Then, he turned around ¡­ just in time to see the smile of a ghostly maid and the alarming object held above her head.


    ¡°Greetings!¡±


    Pwashh.


    A flaming teapot promptly smashed into his face.

 Chapter 354: A Theory In Blasphemy

    Miriam thought this wasn''t too bad.


    It still wasn''t anything quite close to a graceful exit. There were no swinging curtains or sledding down a hillside. But it wasn''t too bad. And when the thing being escaped from was a vampire considerably stronger than her, anything which wasn''t too bad was actually very good.


    All around her, the misty forest welcomed her escape.


    A nightly breeze swept her silver hair behind her as she dashed across untamed woodland with her highly distressed charge held in her arms. But luckily for the village girl, she had no need to worry.


    After all, her fate was unlikely to be as bad as the one awaiting Miriam.


    She peeked behind her to the sight of a raging inferno.


    Somewhere in the hells, a devil was offering a toast to her work.


    What used to be the imposing fa?ade of a haunted manor was now a scene of unbridled devastation. Much of the building was toppling down, walls and all, while any windows to remain were simply furnaces spilling with the fury of a genius with a very short safety checklist. Flames more green than red consumed the very air as the scent of something alchemical mixed with the charring of wood and stone.


    And all of it caused by a single flaming teapot.


    Miriam was impressed.


    She''d need to convey the results to Princess Clarise, if for no other reason than to ensure this was counted as research and not a deliberate attempt to set everything on fire.


    And that meant studying the outcome from a healthy distance.


    ¡°[Flight].¡±


    As Miriam ran, her tiny wings sprouted from her back.


    Supported by her magic, she instinctively hopped into the air ¡­ and then stumbled as she instantly came down again. The village girl in her arms gave the tiniest groan of discomfort.


    Sadly, there''d be more to come.


    Unable to take to the air, Miriam decided on the next best thing.


    Using her wings to propel her forwards like a leaping bunny.


    Without hesitation, she bounded through the trees, magic at her heels and a tired pair of wings fluttering from her back. She skipped through the endless foliage, snapping every twig and rustling every shrub until the colour of the flames finally diminished and all she could see was mist.


    She slowed but didn¡¯t pause.


    Sadly, even the most potent flame was unlikely to do more than wrinkle a master vampire''s skin. Yet she couldn''t run forever. At least not with the village girl in tow. She needed to hide her somewhere a master vampire was unlikely to follow.


    And Miriam knew just the place.


    Even the thought of it was causing her to feel uncomfortable.


    After all, despite the strengths of vampires, they had weaknesses. Not many. But they were severe.


    Enough that even the most powerful member of the Nocturne Court wouldn''t dare test themselves against nature''s most powerful guardian ¡­ which was why when Miriam heard the sound of flowing water, she had to shove all her instincts for self-preservation to one side in order to follow it.


    Her bravery was rewarded as she stopped before the most modest of streams, barely wide and deep enough to cover one''s ankles. It was enough.


    Finally deeming the village girl safe enough to allow her to wildly panic, Miriam set her down upon the grass. A pair of frightened eyes looked up at her. She offered a reassuring smile.


    ¡°[Glacial Dagger].¡±


    And then held a weapon of gleaming ice over her.


    ¡°Mmnnnghh!! Mnnngh?! Nnhgh!!¡±


    ¡°Please stay still. I shall release you.¡±


    The squirming villager slowly froze, only becoming perfectly still when Miriam kneeled beside her. She carefully guided the dagger over the girl''s many bindings, each wrapped so tightly that her skin was almost bleeding from the friction.


    The freshly released girl waited a moment for Miriam to do something generally evil.


    When nothing happened, she sat up, winced as she felt her limbs moving, then looked at her saviour.


    ¡°... Am I free now?¡± she asked in a quivering voice.


    Miriam pointed at the stream.


    ¡°Not yet. But you will be. Follow the stream and keep your feet within the waters at all times. Running water is highly dangerous to vampires. He will not follow you.¡±


    ¡­ At least not while Miriam was somewhere else, of course.


    Pride demanded that she be hunted first. Which meant they both needed to escape.


    ¡°[Flight].¡±


    Wasting no time, she stood up and gracefully lifted herself.


    Oddly, the village girl wasn¡¯t fleeing. She was instead staring at Miriam¡¯s wings, her mouth agape.


    ¡°Why ¡­ Why did you save me?¡± she asked, swallowing a dry gulp.


    Miriam gave a shrug.


    ¡°It''s what she would have done.¡±


    Not waiting for the bewildered response, Miriam made good on her escape.


    The mists receded along with the rest of the forest. With a shaking of leaves and branches, she flew up and broke free of the canopy to a welcoming haze of moonlight sifting between the dark clouds.


    As the cool air tickled her skin, she peeked down to see the faint silhouette of a girl stumbling down a stream¡ªif not towards safety, then at least somewhere safer than where Miriam was heading.


    Master Harkus knew where she worked. And that meant the Royal Villa was in danger.


    Empowering her wings, she shot towards the cover of the clouds. Her plan was simple. Crash into the courtyard while shouting incoherently about everybody needing stakes.


    There was just one problem.


    ¡°Ahh?!¡±


    A whip formed entirely of blood.


    Miriam gave a squeak of surprise as all sense of equilibrium left her. A lashing weapon snapped around her waist like a coiling rock python.


    The next moment, she felt herself pulled back down ¡­ and then swung in several directions, up, down, left and right, the clouds switching places with the forest canopy several times, until finally¡ª


    ¡°I am deeply unhappy.¡±


    She appeared upside down in front of a very cross looking vampire.


    Master Harkus hovered before her, boasting a much greater set of wings than her.


    They were shadows as black as the smoke being emitted from his head and torso, for despite the prominence of those wings, all Miriam could notice was the fact that the man was now half-naked. Much of his garments were now scattered patches of charred fabric.


    Something he noticed as well, given his irate expression.


    ¡°This was custom tailored,¡± said Master Harkus, gesturing at himself. ¡°All of it. That you ruined a perfectly good dinner outfit is already an issue. But the fact that the tailor is long dead is another. I¡¯m now going to have to raise him as a ghoul and hope his claws have the dexterity to sew me a new doublet. I am very doubtful.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Oh, indeed. You set me on fire. Do you have anything to say for yourself?¡±


    The master vampire rotated Miriam several times. She brushed her silver hair from her face and nodded.


    ¡°Yes, if you could, is it possible to describe how it felt to be doused by it? It¡¯s for research purposes.¡±


    Master Harkus leaned in and scowled.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Perhaps you should see for yourself.¡±


    And just like that ¡­ Miriam was tossed.


    The blood whip suddenly snapped to the side, hurling the delicately framed countess like a pebble tossed by a hill giant. She flew faster than a diving albatross. And now she was heading straight into a crumbling manor merrily burning with bright alchemical flames.


    Miriam admired the sight¨Cjust before curling into a ball.


    Fwipfwipfwipfwipfwipfwip.


    A moment later, she emerged as a flock of bats.


    A sense of weightlessness took hold of her, allowing her to avoid the worst of the burning manor. She burst through the smoke and returned to the depths of the misty forest.


    The shifting in forms hurt greater than the lashing flames. Although it was more an illusion than true transfiguration, that didn¡¯t stop the feeling of nausea which occurred from suddenly having a hundred pairs of eyes.


    It was still better than the alternative.


    She sensed the figure following behind. A shadow blotting out the moonlight, unconcerned with anything other than slowly making his ire known. And that meant the end of her tale.


    The end.


    Miriam was officially stuffed.


    After all, against a superior vampire, little could be done other than to calmly accept one¡¯s grisly demise. And while she could attempt to flee or hide, it was clear this would only delay the inevitable.


    Thus, only one option remained.


    Violent self-defence.


    Miriam needed to destroy a full strength higher vampire.


    Here, now, and with everything she possessed.


    That wasn¡¯t a lot. Her magic was dwindling, and while she could conjure a passable weapon, she had neither the skill nor training to use it.


    The greatest hope was that the presence of two vampires was such anathema that the Holy Church would dispatch a band of murderous holy sisters to eradicate them both.


    ¡­ Or failing that, the next pious option.


    ¡°You told me this place was hidden. But I can still see your ugly mug, Sourface.¡±


    ¡°Shaddup. If you can see mine, I can see yours. And it¡¯s my eyes which are bleeding.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re both uglier than each other. Only thing not obvious is who¡¯s dumber.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be you, Lemmy. And maybe Patches as well.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s definitely Patches. Man, who tries to steal a horse from behind? Good thing nothing important was lost.¡±


    Specifically, the next, next, next pious option.


    A small band of common brigands.


    She heard it. The laughter. The cackling. The snorting.


    A campfire and a group of rogues.


    It wasn¡¯t her first choice. It wasn¡¯t even her last choice. But Miriam was nothing if not open to assistance. Especially since there was a limit to how long she could maintain her form as a flock of bats without flying into a tree.


    Without warning, she swept over the campfire and gathered herself together.


    Appearing in the midst of just four wide-eyed ruffians, she tugged at the hem of her pink pyjamas and offered a swift curtsey.


    ¡°Good evening, gentlemen. I apologise for the sudden interruption. I am in need. Have you by any chance stolen any artifacts, weapons or armour related to the Holy Church or with divine properties?¡±


    The flames dimmed in the campfire, turning into embers as Miriam remembered to smile.


    The bandits gawped at her.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!¡±


    They ran.


    Scrambling, tripping, screaming, the men darted like mice caught in the open. All except one.


    As he slipped on a perfectly dry patch of dirt, he instinctively threw the closest thing he had on hand as he desperately rushed to escape the mysterious bat girl in pyjamas.


    A spoon.


    Miriam idly flicked it away ¡­ yet to her surprise, it was just the tiniest bit cold.


    Ignoring the bandits, she looked down at the offering.


    Not even a large spoon. But a spoon for desserts.


    A thing so tiny it was used exclusively for eating pudding as slowly as possible. A standard tool used by nobility to extend conversation which all knew had to end the moment the last bite was consumed.


    And it was ¡­ not silver.


    Maybe there was a little bit in there. A thin coating, perhaps. A common trick used by blacksmiths or merchants whose customers were keen to purchase silver cutlery at an astonishing discount.


    Miriam blinked at it.


    She tilted her head. She thought. She hummed.


    And then ¡­ she nodded confidently.


    Yes.


    This would do.


    Miriam kneeled down at once. She picked up the slightly cold spoon and began to scribble right there on the ground. Not words, but symbols.


    Hunching over the dirt the brigands had made, she recalled a scene permanently etched in  her memory. She knew she remembered correctly. As she drew, a feeling of immense nausea began to overtake her as though she were balancing on the deck of a swaying ship.


    Soon, that feeling of nausea became so intense she wanted to throw up. All the more so as she imbued every morsel of magic she possessed into the counterfeit silver spoon.


    She continued regardless, ignoring the aching of her tummy ¡­ and even the flapping of a pair of wings.


    Master Harkus barely looked down as he landed right beside Miriam.


    ¡°... Really?¡± he said, the disappointment clear in his voice. ¡°Come now, Miriam. This is pitiful. Runes?¡±


    Miriam paused.


    Then, she leaned over and began drawing right between the man¡¯s scuffed shoes.


    ¡°Runes,¡± she replied simply.


    The master vampire rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Ugh. This is beneath you. Do you think any magic you perform is enough to harm me? I¡¯m virtually immune to all the common elements. What do you hope to do? Destroy the rest of my attire?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but only because it comes naturally with destroying you as well.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll need to try when you¡¯ve learned how to perform blood magic. And perhaps once you¡¯ve regained your senses as well. Your ascension into being a vampire has clearly addled something in your head. This is not why I chose to give you this gift.¡±


    ¡°I thought you turned me into a vampire because you had nothing else to do.¡±


    ¡°No, I turned you into a vampire because I chose you. I do not make thralls, Miriam. I made an exception. An exception I must continually remind myself of. I saw something in you. You did not seek power. But power is already inside you. I saw it. A spark of something unique. Something I couldn¡¯t allow to wither away before your time had come. I saw in you the potential to become my prot¨¦g¨¦.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    Master Harkus looked aggrieved.


    ¡°That is not the correct response. I¡¯m due to be raised to the table of the Nocturne Court. And any vampire who stands behind my fashionable new cloak is guaranteed to also be raised to the table of the Nocturne Court. That is how influence works.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already a countess. And a librarian. That will do.¡±


    ¡°Not for me. Your aloofness was supposed to morph into cold unfeelingness as you threw away all your mortal desires. Not to disregard the world of shadows in order to indulge in terrible literature.¡±


    Miriam briefly paused.


    ¡°The literature I read is marvellous,¡± she said, frowning. ¡°They also contain villains far better than you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to serve as your entertainment. I¡¯m here to do a job.¡±


    ¡°You spend your days sleeping and drinking. You don¡¯t have a job.¡±


    Master Harkus¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Yes, I should be celebrating my triumphs. But because of your apathy, I now need to pick up the slack, wasting valuable time on a kingdom so insignificant I had to use a map to remember where it was. A map.¡±


    He stomped his heel on a rune, smudging the soil beneath. Miriam immediately began fixing it.


    ¡°In Rozinthe, I had to stop myself from flying into a mage tower constantly. In Granholtz, I went within 15 kilometres of the White Citadel and had to evade so much holy magic I thought they were catapulting sisters at me. But here? There isn¡¯t a single landmark in this tiny speck of dirt. I cannot even boast about subjugating this worthless kingdom. What am I supposed to say when the next meeting of elders gather? ''Oh yes, I conquered the Kingdom of Tirea. The cows stood no chance against my machinations''. That is humiliating. See what I endure to fix your errors?¡±


    Miriam looked up and smiled, her final work complete.


    ¡°I do not. But I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re due to be even more disappointed.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°The runes I¡¯ve drawn do not represent any of the common elements. They are holy runes.¡±


    Master Harkus fell silent.


    He then looked down, assessing the runes for the first time. His face promptly filled with outrage.


    ¡°Miriam! You drew holy runes?!¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That is ¡­ blasphemy! Do you not feel disgusted with yourself?!¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°I do, actually. I feel rather ill.¡±


    ¡°That is nothing less than you deserve! And to what purpose? This isn¡¯t just pitiable, it is ridiculous! What did you hope to do by etching out holy runes? You are not a sister!¡±


    ¡°No. But I became deeply acquainted with one during a spell of captivity ¡­ including her runes written beneath my very pillow. I¡¯m confident these are accurate.¡±


    ¡°It doesn''t matter if they are! These vile things do nothing but desecrate my reputation!¡±


    ¡°These runes were drawn by a silver instrument.¡±


    Miriam raised her spoon. The master vampire looked like he was considering returning to his coffin to recover from the mental damage.


    ¡°That is worth less than a quill! You cannot imbue these runes!¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And what is your point?¡±


    ¡°My point? My point is exactly that! These runes are nothing more than disgraceful drawings! They are functionally worthless! I cannot believe I need to explain this. You are a vampire¨Cby the laws of this world unable to perform holy magic. The very discomfort you experience now is proof of that!¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°More.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I am not very bright. Please use sound and logical arguments for why the runes will never under any circumstances activate and explode under us.¡±


    The look she received was nothing short of overwhelming incredulity.


    ¡°Miriam,¡± he began, his voice almost softening from the sheer disbelief he was clearly feeling. ¡°Holy magic is the antithesis of all we stand for. It¡¯s the bane of our existence. Moreover, such a slapdash effort is terrible even if this was regular magic. You cannot just sketch on the ground and pray.¡±


    Deciding that enough was enough, Master Harkus reached out as if to scoop up an errant house cat.


    He stopped to wear a shocked expression instead.


    Because at that very moment, white veins began to light all around him, ushering away the night.


    ¡°My hypothesis is correct!¡± Miriam clapped her hands excitedly in joy. ¡°Oh, this explains so much! The patterns on these runes fall under the auspices of Lady Iessa, Goddess of Mirth! That means they¡¯re also imbued by her hand and explode at her whims! Isn¡¯t that wonderful?!¡±


    The master vampire looked at her in horror.


    ¡°Well, I hope you''re happy. You¡¯ve successfully committed heresy.¡±


    ¡°I am, yes.¡±


    ¡°And how do you intend to escape from this? You are, at least on parchment, a vampire.¡±


    Miriam shrugged.


    ¡°I¡¯m blasphemous. I¡¯ll pray.¡±


    A moment later, the holy runes glowed more merrily than they did at the bottom of a mine.


    And then everything exploded.

 Chapter 355: In Case Of Emergency

    A haze of afternoon sunlight welcomed us as we arrived at the Wessin Bridge.


    Arching over a valley, it stood as a monument to the ingenuity of my kingdom. A twin drawbridge formed of dark stone and hardy oak faithfully guarding the river passage into Reitzlake.


    Its task was simple.


    To ensure no ships larger than a merchant¡¯s cog could enter without paying a toll in either crowns or masts ¡­ for what overlooked it was also a fortified watchtower doubling up as a lighthouse, filled with more tax inspectors than actual guards.


    As such, it was a splendid work of pragmatism and function¨Cif not quite beauty.


    Sadly, despite its very official purpose, that hadn¡¯t stopped it from becoming a waystation for weary travellers. And although the Wessin Bridge could never be called a town, the amount of pubs, taverns and inns it boasted couldn¡¯t be beaten by even the docks of the royal capital.


    Here, there was no allusion to restraint.


    No chapels, sewers or noble estates existed for drunkards to escape my horrified guards ordered in no uncertain terms to arrest them for littering the ground with their vomit.


    And that meant alcohol.


    Lots of alcohol.


    This was a problem. Because currently, the weary travellers were no longer traders.


    Instead, they were a mob of enraged farmers and a host of my kingdom¡¯s knights sent for whatever terrible reason to make things worse.


    Thus, only one of two things could happen.


    1: A bloodlust fuelled rampage. Violence, pitchforks and flames as the farmers rightfully enacted retribution for all the daughters the knights had promised and failed to marry, followed by the ensuing panic as the amnesiac knights sought to defend themselves against the threats to their hairline.


    Or worse¨C


    2: Everything I was seeing.


    ¡°Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink Drink!¡±


    I tugged Apple to a pause.


    My hands covered my nose. It still wasn¡¯t enough.


    The odour of debauchery was overwhelming. As was the destruction.


    Tables, chairs and window shutters lined the lane which made up this impromptu settlement.


    And the culprits were all around me.


    To my left, a bold and gallant knight of my realm stood atop the remains of a door, several steins of alcohol being juggled to loud cheers as froth and liquid went spiralling in all directions.


    To my right, farmers and knights took turns to ride a large wooden keg, each drawing winces and laughter as they diligently attempted to crack more bones than each other.


    To my front, a squire had his own master in a headlock while repeatedly palming his back. An olive was spat out a moment later, its arrival marked by the cheering of a crowd only marginally disappointed nobody had died.


    Everywhere I looked, I witnessed a scene of drunken revelry. If something could be broken, it already was.


    There was only one exception.


    The spirit of camaraderie.


    That had been repaired.


    ¡°Yer a lousy piece o¡¯ work,¡± said a farmer, his head swaying side to side as he sat beside a knight with a bruise on his cheek. ¡°The worst ruffian I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± replied the knight, his voice slurred as he raised an empty wine glass. ¡°I admit I¡¯m the worst ruffian you¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    ¡°Lazy. Womanising. Dull. But you ¡­ you ain¡¯t too bad.¡±


    ¡°Same goes for you, my two headed friend. Same goes for you.¡±


    And just like that, they toasted to a friendship forged in the flames of alcohol.


    I paused in thought.


    A moment later, I turned to my beaming loyal handmaiden.


    ¡°Coppelia.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I seem to have forgotten why we came here.¡±


    ¡°The stated reason we came here is due to the threat of civil unrest propelling the downtrodden peasants of your tiny kingdom into a wide ranging rebellion. The true reason is because of a lack of cake.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I nodded. ¡°Thank you. I remember now.¡±


    ¡°No problem! Want to know my assessment?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Your kingdom is doomed.¡±


    I placed my face in my palms.


    It ¡­ It was true!


    Normally, I¡¯d deny her words. And yet as I ignored a brave knight volunteering his helmet as a drinking cup, all I could see was the ruins of my kingdom¡¯s image!


    If that was gone, then nothing else remained!


    ¡°Why ¡­ Why is everyone inebriated ¡­ ?!¡±


    Indeed, no matter where I looked, it was a scene of unacceptable festivity!


    There was only one reason for so much public joy! And my birthday had already passed!


    But the worst part was ¡­ I¡¯d seen this before!


    Many times!


    Indeed, the way they tossed aside all thoughts of decorum as they headbutted the ground ¡­ it was exactly like how adventurers acted on any given day!


    The unbridled devastation! The property damage! The disorderly conduct! The shameless vandalism!


    This was exactly like stepping into any guild hall of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild!


    In fact ¡­ if I wasn¡¯t mistaken, this was uncannily like the Adventurer¡¯s Guild ¡­ almost as if there was an open bar somewhere, with utterly no thought towards consequences.


    My suspicions rose at once.


    Raising myself on my saddle, I looked over the heads of the bumbling drunkards. I found the culprit at once.


    A smiling young woman in an all too familiar uniform, boasting a sign over her shoulder.


    Happy Hour, Every Hour!


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    A Free Drink With Every Purchase!


    The Wessin Bridge Adventurer¡¯s Guild


    ¡°Happy hour is still here!¡± she cried, waving her sign like the surrender flag this entire organisation was fated to do. ¡°We have a fresh delivery of golden ales, local plum wines and unmarked alcohol which requires a waiver form to be signed! Every drink comes with another free drink!¡±


    My jaw dropped.


    Before me, the receptionist of the Adventurer¡¯s Guild cheerfully enticed customers towards the direction of the most desecrated building here.


    Even the sign was loose, hanging upon a single nail as it whacked against the heads of every satisfied customer streaming in and out of the guild hall.


    I could scarcely believe it.


    ¡°How ¡­ How dare they!¡± I said, throwing up my arms in grief. ¡°These parasites¨Cno, something worse¨C these ¡­ these pebbles with sharp edges on a beach in human form! ¡­ They are now profiteering on the threat of a rebellion!¡±


    Indeed!


    It could be nothing else!


    I was outraged! All this time, I¡¯d generously assumed they only wished for overt political power under the thin guise of assisting the common people with their mundane wishes for a better life!


    Instead, here they were, outright earning crowns on the back of calamity!


    ¡°Oooh~ I smell bay leaves.¡± Coppelia went to her tip-toes in interest. ¡°I think the customers are adding things to the food cauldron. Want to give it a try? I bet the taste of shoes is almost hidden away.¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°If the taste of shoes is almost gone, then the guild will need to add it back in. This is unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°... You mean you prefer shoes?¡±


    ¡°No, I prefer the Adventurer¡¯s Guild not encouraging drunken behaviour outside the confines of their halls. It is most certainly not needed. This is appalling!¡±


    I wrinkled my nose at the mess.


    Someone other than me was going to have to tidy this up. And they could begin immediately after answering my questions.


    Thus, I tugged on Apple¡¯s reins once more.


    He trotted forwards, bravely ignoring the overwhelming odour as well as anyone unfortunate enough to mistake him for a giant moving wig.


    ¡°Happy hour is still here! Come visit the Adventurer¡¯s Guild for a ¡­ oh, greetings! How may I help you?¡±


    We stopped before the smiling receptionist.


    She stood as though behind a desk, posture straight as a ruler and smile immaculately woven like a spider¡¯s web. Naturally, I wouldn¡¯t be tricked. Whatever scheme she was taking part in, I would discern.


    Especially if she simply told me.


    ¡°Salutations. My apologies for disturbing you in the midst of a busy trading session. However, I must query if you have the appropriate licence for it. As far as I¡¯m aware, the guild doesn¡¯t have permission to empty its unwanted liquor onto the streets.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, we do not,¡± she replied, all the while leaning her sign away from my loyal steed¡¯s searching nibbling. ¡°However, we¡¯ve been given emergency permission by the local garrison.¡±


    ¡°Emergency permission? To do what? Lower productivity?¡±


    ¡°The guildmaster was concerned with rising aggression due to the presence of multiple conflicting parties. In order to stem this, he suggested dispensing our stores of beverages at extremely low prices. This initiated aggressive cost cutting throughout all the alcoholic establishments in the area.¡±


    The receptionist smiled as she directed another drunkard towards the guild branch.


    ¡°It appears to be successful,¡± she said brightly.


    My mouth widened in disbelief.


    ¡°Excuse me?! You flooded the town with cheap alcohol to lower hostilities?! What if it went wrong?!¡±


    ¡°In that case, the guildmaster would propose a new idea.¡±


    ¡°And what is that?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, I do not know. You would need to query him.¡±


    The receptionist duly pointed to the side.


    There, partially naked and full of mirth, was a drunkard who was beyond saving. He was surrounded by an applauding audience as he demonstrated how to not only conquer riding one rolling keg, but two at the same ¡­ for all of the two seconds he wasn¡¯t a sprawling pile on the ground.


    I pursed my lips.


    These people.


    Others saw a kingdom in peril. They saw it as an opportunity to get drunk.


    ¡°... Fine.¡± I turned to the receptionist. ¡°You will do.¡±


    ¡°Of course! What may I help with?¡±


    ¡°Everything. Please explain in five words or fewer what I¡¯m seeing. I heard there were needlessly unhappy peasants at the Wessin Bridge. I¡¯ve now arrived to see a host of knights despite the fact that they¡¯re the last people I would summon for anything other than a hand mirror. Why is this?¡±


    The receptionist nodded.


    ¡°Outlaws.¡±


    Hmm.


    Only a single word. And yet I was already filled with regret. A valuable skill for when I eventually hired each and every receptionist to my side instead.


    ¡°I see ¡­ and what is this about outlaws?¡±


    ¡°There has been an unprecedented increase in banditry in the region. The Wessin Bridge garrison captain believes that the outlaws who reside in the south of the Ivywood have become organised. However, despite the increased patrols, the guards have been unable to discern where the outlaws operate. The knights are here to assist.¡±


    I looked around me.


    At the assisting knights. Most of them on the ground.


    That in itself wasn¡¯t a surprise. Knights were the greatest brigands of all when it came to making a mess of taverns. But what was unusual was the fact they were here in such numbers.


    Their gentleman¡¯s agreement regarding not angering too many fathers in one place ordinarily didn¡¯t allow it.


    ¡°It¡¯s unusual for so many knights to answer such an ordinary call for assistance,¡± I said, leaning away in anticipation for what was to come. ¡°... What else is there?¡±


    ¡°¨CA pale knight.¡±


    Suddenly, a deep voice came from behind.


    I duly turned around to see a suit of gleaming armour shadowing over me.


    I looked up. And then I looked up some more.


    Before me was an inhabitant of the Spiral Isle. The land where chivalry still held sway, officially ranking as the safest place in the world for a princess to nap outside of my orchard. A realm where knighthood was celebrated and honour was found even in the seediest alleys.


    A minotaur.


    A rare sight in my kingdom.


    Especially since the last one I¡¯d seen wasn¡¯t so much a questing knight as a common bandit. A true pioneer. Yet while I couldn¡¯t vouch for this one, I could accept he at least dressed the part.


    Both his silver armour and the greatsword upon his back were so bright that more than a few knights were being dazzled awake from their drunken states. The rest stared at the thick horns protruding from the finely crafted helmet instead.


    The minotaur paid them no heed.


    ¡°There is a pale knight,¡± he added, his crimson eyes alight with seriousness as he stared at me. ¡°Or rather, the Pale Knight. The bandits who hound your realm no longer do so out of petty opportunism. They follow the directions of a single voice. One which almost every knight here dreams to slay, for this foe is legend. A shade, perhaps, who appears in the blackest pages of history.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me? Did you say that a ¡­ a thing in the guise of a knight is now bringing terror to my kingdom?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes. And that is why so many have come to claim the accolades which come with his head. A brave notion, but one I fear is foolish. The Pale Knight is a harbinger of darkness. And in all the tomes his name is written, it is said that where he goes, pestilence and doom follows.¡±


    I turned to the receptionist. She nodded.


    ¡°Details with the guild are sparse ¡­ but I can confirm multiple 1st hand sightings of a figure matching the historical description of the Pale Knight, as well as an ability to come and go with an unnatural mist.¡±


    I was aghast.


    I¡¯d come here to calm a peasant revolt ¡­ and now I was being told that there was some ¡­ unholy spectre wrapped in a foul legend had come to my kingdom!


    Why ¡­ if I¡¯d known that, I wouldn¡¯t have worried!


    Ohohohohohohohohoho!


    H-How wonderful!


    A horrific creature from the shadowy depths was now here!


    That was ¡­ That was marvellous!


    It meant I now had someone to blame!!


    ¡°I see,¡± I said, nodding profusely. ¡°As expected, any stirring up of the masses is no coincidence. That is simply awful¨Cand I intend for them and nobody in a position of current power to be held accountable. Thank you for telling me this, Sir Minotaur. Is this what brings you to the Kingdom of Tirea?¡±


    ¡°It is not,¡± he replied with a mournful shake of his head. ¡°While I would slay any villain who claims the mantle of the Pale Knight were they to appear before me, that is not my cause for being here.¡±


    The minotaur removed his helmet and held it by his side.


    ¡°I am Sir Arthur Tranlingway, Knight of the Order of Fortitude. By the Minotaur¡¯s Code, I am charged with a sacred quest. And although what I seek is different to every knight here, the path of justice we walk is the same. I believe I have information regarding this spectre to offer the Adventurer¡¯s Guild.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°My, is that so? Then perhaps we might be able to assist one another! I do not know anything regarding what this ¡­ shade who haunts my kingdom is, but I would value any information to put it to rest.¡±


    ¡°That is reassuring to hear. And would you be in a position to offer assistance in return, brave maiden?¡±


    ¡°Certainly.¡± I placed my hand atop my chest and smiled. ¡°What is the nature of your sacred quest?¡±


    The minotaur, Sir Arthur Tranlingway, wore a sombre expression as his shoulders dropped.


    ¡°It is one of personal retribution. My younger brother was assailed in this kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Truly? That is awful! What happened?¡±


    ¡°The details are ¡­ fragile. However, I know for certain he was assailed outside the royal capital of Reitzlake. He was showcasing his labyrinths at the time when he was cruelly set upon. He recalls being sent through the air at great speed. Would you know anything about this particular incident?¡±


    The minotaur silently blinked down at us.


    Coppelia and I looked at each other.


    ¡°No,¡± we said.

 Chapter 356: Sweet Premonitions

    The minotaur¡¯s heavy footsteps padded alongside Apple¡¯s trotting.


    Boasting a powerful frame, he was a presence as impressive as he was useful.


    Indeed, with his silver armour and gleaming greatsword to capture the attention of my knights and Coppelia¡¯s smile to cause the peasants to shuffle away, little hindered us as we made our way across the Wessin Bridge and over the wide river below.


    Where our destination was, I didn¡¯t know. Only that it was one the minotaur preferred to say where his naturally baritone voice wouldn¡¯t be overheard.


    Naturally, I was stunned.


    The fact that discretion was known to a knight was more striking to me than any flamboyant manoeuvre they could accomplish with a hair comb.


    Especially as he was currently applying it with regards to my royal identity.


    ¡°It¡¯s envious to see an adventurer so young,¡± said the minotaur with an approving nod. ¡°My horns were fully grown by the time I was even allowed to consider swinging my first sword as a squire. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild does not exist in my homeland to offer a different opportunity, you see.¡±


    I offered a polite smile.


    So polite, in fact, that only the many competing responses shoving each other out of the way caused me to continue smiling.


    ¡°Is that so? Goodness. How fortunate that the plague has yet to reach the Spiral Isle.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°The plague of ill deeds which threatens this kingdom, I mean. Indeed, it¡¯s most fortunate that adventurers are not required to fill up your bars, for the presence of knights is all that¡¯s required.¡±


    The minotaur chuckled.


    ¡°True. Although my brothers-in-arms seek ever to further their fame, I fear that nothing will quite outdo their reputation for being excellent customers. Even so, I dare say we fall short compared to the knights of this realm.¡±


    A knight rose from his little heap of spilled cups in answer.


    He took off his helmet and offered a nod as we passed, never once realising that the helmet in question was simply a bucket still with laundry inside. A dotted ladies frock covered his eyes.


    I pursed my lips.


    ¡°In that case, perhaps the Spiral Isle could consider a cultural exchange? I¡¯m certain there¡¯s much the knights here could learn ¡­ immediately, if possible.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s little we could teach them. The wording in our vows may differ, but the path we walk is the same. Sadly, this also includes being stumped by the same obstacles. If anything, I believe we could all learn from the Adventurer¡¯s Guild instead.¡±


    ¡°I see. That sounds terrible.¡±


    ¡°... Hm?¡±


    ¡°A terrible way to spend your valuable time instead of performing noble deeds, I mean. Adventurers and knights are considerably different. One loyally serves the realm and one loyally serves their desires to wade in pits of mud.¡±


    The minotaur blinked at me.


    ¡°Is ¡­ Is that so? Well, we all have our own wishes. And I¡¯m not one to judge.¡±


    ¡°You should. Mud doesn¡¯t deserve to be disturbed by the boots of adventurers.¡±


    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m certain the mud is forgiving. All the more so since the boots are worn by those who are rightfully admired. I must say, I¡¯m deeply impressed. To endeavour yourself towards the pursuit of justice at your age is a most noble thing. I see you must make a fine adventurer.¡±


    I offered a courteous nod in the form of a violent shake of my head.


    It was the least I could do for his performance, after all.


    Despite being masterfully incognito, it was a given that such close proximity to my regal aura meant this knight doubtless knew who I was. Even so, he was proving as discreet as he was polite.


    Why, not only had he resisted begging me for my blessing as was the traditional greeting, but he¡¯d also spared my ears any boasts concerning his deeds or his breakfast to me. That was unprecedented.


    In fact, all he spoke about was his admiration for adventurers.


    Relentlessly.


    Indeed ¡­ the way he enthusiastically queried me about the functions of the guild I proudly didn¡¯t know about, it was almost as though he truly believed I considered myself part of that shameful organisation.


    ¡­ Something which needed amending in the tiny chance this was genuine.


    ¡°My status as an adventurer is a temporary arrangement,¡± I said, my tone clear on the matter. ¡°Rest assured, there¡¯s a reason for all things other than the invention of the glazed carrot. That includes why a delicate maiden would embark on such an unfitting path.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And, uh ¡­ what would that be?¡±


    ¡°Pride, naturally. My kingdom is imperilled. I cannot stand idly by while the shadows seek ever to encroach upon its fair fields.¡±


    The minotaur nodded.


    ¡°Pride runs both ways. Although it is often a precursor to foolhardiness, so too is it a courage stronger than any drink. Sadly, I fear that it will take more than zeal to see these shadows undone, or else these proud knights would have already found the rogues who tarnish your land.¡±


    I looked around at the proud knights in question.


    Unlike the purposeful discretion offered by the minotaur, the silence my knights afforded me was due to a haze of drunken stupor. To them, I was simply an incredibly beautiful maiden with multiple noses. And that meant Apple was on snorting duty whenever one wandered too close.


    I patted his mane. He needed extra premium apples for this extra workload.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°A sad inflexibility,¡± I said diplomatically. ¡°That knights strive to meet their opponents in honourable combat doesn¡¯t mean that others will meet them in turn.¡±


    ¡°Quite so. Hence the reason I sought the Adventurer¡¯s Guild. Your reputation to achieve tasks in ways that are deemed inventive is legendary.¡±


    Ugh.


    I rolled my eyes. The guild may not have set up roots in every kingdom yet, but their propaganda had.


    ¡°Yes, well, when it comes to abducting cats, they will truly stop at nothing. But for threats such as a band of common ruffians and whatever ghoul seeks to lead them, what matters is sobriety and the ability to walk in a straight line. Fortunately, I also happen to be highly talented in all things.¡±


    ¡°Your ¡­ confidence is encouraging. Although I hope to see the outlaws who terrorise the people here banished, I look forward to any assistance in finding the dastardly rogues I seek. I believe I am close.¡±


    Coppelia loudly coughed.


    I nudged her with my foot.


    ¡°O-Ohohohoho! ¡­ Fear not, all who transgress within these borders will be apprehended. This is a kingdom of law, after all.¡±


    ¡°That is most encouraging to hear.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, here, laws are deeply respected and must be followed by all¨Cincluding visitors. This means that if anyone should break said laws, it is also perfectly within the right for those tasked with the kingdom¡¯s safekeeping to remove any lawbreakers.¡±


    ¡°Of course. While I seek personal retribution, I am no vigilante. My fury will not come at the expense of formal justice. Whatever this kingdom decides is appropriate as a punishment, I shall not begrudge.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°Oh, is that so? ¡­ Then that¡¯s excellent! The judges who preside over the courts here are most impartial and unlikely to be moved by somebody standing directly over their shoulder while tapping their feet.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I¡¯ve no doubt of that. Hence, I will simply wait my turn.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Once the villains who have dishonoured my younger brother are found, I will appropriately wait for the kingdom to enact its punishment before I deliver my own. As a questing knight, I¡¯m sensitive to the laws of other kingdoms. But that doesn¡¯t preclude us from following our own.¡±


    The minotaur nodded as he stared ahead.


    His gauntlets came together. The mailed knuckles clanged with enough force to wake a dozen sleeping louts just before they barrelled out of the way of Apple¡¯s coming.


    I offered a polite smile. As did Coppelia.


    ¡°Fwwwfffft.¡±


    Behind a coconut that she was sipping using a straw, all the while watching in shameless amusement.


    I hardly saw why.


    As far as my memories were concerned, two maidens were present while being accosted by a minotaur bandit. And only one of them had the arms of enchanted steel necessary to send them into flight.


    ¡°However, I believe my quest is near an end,¡± said the minotaur, his gauntlets falling to his side. ¡°I¡¯ve a promising source who can lift the veil. Soon, I hope to know who assailed my brother and who this shade wearing the name of a fallen knight truly is.¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I see! Who might this source be? ¡­ And how accurate would you say they are regarding unsubstantiated and witnessless events which occurred several weeks in the past?¡±


    ¡°Quite accurate. Or so I¡¯m led to believe. After all, there are few shamans who are so famed despite having long abandoned their pursuit.¡±


    ¡°A ¡­ shaman?¡±


    ¡°A shaman, yes. A matron unique amongst humans. For it¡¯s said that she was taught by the spirit seers of orc clans. She can communicate with the earth itself, listening to the echoes of what once passed. It is for her that I came to the Wessin Bridge.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ all the while charitably considering how best to save Coppelia from a minotaur¡¯s disgruntlement.


    ¡°Is that so? A shaman. A deeply unofficial profession assumed by those who didn¡¯t have the talent to pass a mage exam. I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re unlikely to receive the news you desire. There are many footsteps which happen upon the ground, each muddying the other.¡±


    ¡°True, but while my own wishes might go unanswered, I¡¯ve little doubt the matron can shed light regarding the outlaws. I believe she herself has been a victim to them.¡±


    Suddenly, a deep frown appeared on the minotaur¡¯s face. He gave a huff through his nose.


    ¡°I happened across the scene myself. Upon arriving at the Wessin Bridge, I sought the matron out, hoping she would see me even in the night. I saw instead figures of ill-repute exiting her door.¡±


    ¡°For those visiting a shaman in the night, I would expect nothing less.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. But the matron no longer advertises her services. She¡¯s since taken up a more ordinary business. And that invites ordinary burglars. I recognised them just from their movements. Naturally, they scarpered without thought to explain themselves.¡±


    I raised a brow in puzzlement.


    ¡°I see? Then you¡¯ve already spoken with this unqualified mage?¡±


    The minotaur shook head.


    ¡°With little success. For an elderly human to be burgled is a harrowing affair. She rejected my concern and closed her door before me. Yet I hope she may now be inclined to render aid.¡±


    ¡°These ruffians are bold, if they are committing something as brazen as robbery at the Wessin Bridge.¡±


    ¡°Boldness is their forte. But also foolishness. This Pale Knight has brought many brigands under his heel. And when one becomes the head, all must pay their dues. There¡¯s only so much gold to be found in the same barn.¡±


    The minotaur turned to me with an expectant nod.


    ¡°I hoped that the guild would be able to offer a soft touch. I fear that I¡¯m not the most subtle of speakers. I would therefore like you to make your own inquiries. If payment is needed, I can provide reimbursement. It will be worth it. I feel it in my horns.¡±


    I offered the coin purse by his side the look of pity it deserved.


    After all, I had my well-placed doubts regarding the validity of any directions given by strange women in huts. Moreover, if anyone was capable of discerning who was behind the ire of my farmers, then they¡¯d almost certainly have been approached already.


    But then again ¡­ he could feel something in his horns!


    Perhaps that was like when a princess felt something upon the back of her neck when a loyal handmaiden was reaching for the saddlebag containing the premium apples?


    ¡°... Very well,¡± I said, offering a polite smile as I shooed Coppelia¡¯s hand away. ¡°If your horns say so, then who am I to disregard such a premonition?¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I offer my appreciation for your time. The matron¡¯s shop isn¡¯t far.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. Is it the first ominous hut that I see?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not an ominous hut. It¡¯s a shop.¡± The minotaur pointed ahead. ¡°It¡¯s small, but colourful. I believe she sells confectionery.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It is a bakery of some description. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not versed enough in the products I saw to know what they are, but they appeared artisan. For anyone to disregard their magic training to undertake such a new and radical business must mean they¡¯re quite proficient.¡±


    I nodded.


    Then, I peered around me as I realised we¡¯d crossed into the half of my kingdom which wasn¡¯t blocked by drunkards. And that meant one thing.


    There was now cake.


    ¡°... H-How dare these ruffians accost my people! The suffering and harm they¡¯ve endured shall not go unanswered! Come, we must leave no stone unturned!¡±


    My hands began shaking Apple¡¯s reins.


    They stopped only a moment later. And it had nothing to do with wanting to hop off Apple because Coppelia was now skipping merrily ahead without me.


    No ¡­ rather, it was because there was something familiar in the air.


    A warming aroma which tickled my memory like the grass of a spring afternoon not unlike this one. Except that rather than being starved of essential nutrients, I was drowning in it.


    After all, Florella was known for many things.


    Her adherence to sensible portion sizes wasn¡¯t one of them.


    When given command of a kitchen, she could make even a 13 layer cake look miniature in comparison to the mountains she could craft. Especially when they were her infamous 5 ingredient secret love stuffed knuckle-shaped ¡®la misericordia final¡¯ chouquettes, each loose pastry threatening to trigger a landslide upon me.


    A strange thing, then ¡­ as well as mildly horrifying.


    Because unless I was mistaken, that was very much what was now wafting through the air.

 Chapter 357: Trading Standards

    I swallowed the aroma as I took in the sight around me.


    Wooden shelves stacked with drying pastries. Tables overflowing with slightly burned bread rolls. Piles of cupcakes all slightly squished. And a sign which proudly hung off-centre behind the counter.


    Auntie Hilda¡¯s Bakery.


    It was much too dim, much too small and much too disorganised.


    In short, a completely ordinary bakery.


    And that ¡­ that was wonderful!


    Ohohohohohoho!


    Dough rising in an oven! Sugar caramelising in a pot! Ginger fighting against honey and cloves!


    No longer was I met with a lingering cold scent and meek apologies!


    Instead, all the shelves around me were filled with a passable selection of everything a princess needed to survive ¡­ and this meant I could afford a smile!


    Indeed!


    Croissants, rolls and strudels all sat waiting for my judging eye!


    True, the fact that there wasn¡¯t a member of staff constantly sweeping up bits of crumbling pastry was already a poor sign ¡­ but the fact there was anything to judge at all meant that all was well in the world.


    Yes, even if the world consisted of a rather cramped bakery.


    Frankly, it was abundantly clear why a minotaur wouldn¡¯t be allowed to browse inside. His horns would have simply poked through the ceiling, to say nothing of his sword accidentally swiping the mounds of cupcakes away.


    Luckily, he now had a far more important task.


    Standing outside and looking imposing. He was doing splendidly. Only his shadow entered through the tiny window, and that meant no disturbances as I studied the most unexpected of sights.


    There, stacked upon a large platter upon the counter, was unmistakably Florella¡¯s original La Misericordia Final chouquettes.


    I recognised them at once.


    The bright dusting of green tea powder. The aroma of vanilla. The lure of custard and buttercream. And also the promise of extraordinary bitterness.


    Yes.


    These were not ordinary little balls of pastries.


    Rather, they were an experiment which had set the world of gastronomy alight. Because whereas ordinary chouquettes were little more than puffs of sugar pretending to be dough, hers invited a peek into the grim blackness of the abyss.


    After all, they came with an ingredient nobody else had ever dared try before¨C


    Quantifiable love.


    Otherwise known as a highly concentrated emulsion of raw coffee beans and optimism.


    They were a creation so infamous that the servants tasked with carrying them needed to wear gloves and goggles borrowed from Clarise¡¯s observatory. Even accidental contact was dangerous. For upon consumption, they were an astringent ball of destruction upon one¡¯s tongue.


    But only for the unprepared.


    Once the feverish hallucination and choking had come to an end, what eventually came was a soothing ocean of delight. A caress of sugar, eggs and milk from the velvety custard to help ease away the relentless darkness of raw coffee, until all that was left was an inexplicable desire for more.


    Of course, to most, it was simply far too unyielding.


    Given that the recipe was highly complex too, I was stunned to find such a thing being sold outside.


    Indeed ¡­ this could mean only one thing!


    Yes ¡­ the standards of common bakeries were finally rising!


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°Ohhohohohoho ¡­ how wondrous! Coppelia, do you see these little pastries?!¡±


    ¡°Mmh~ I smell them too! There¡¯s something weird going on.¡±


    ¡°Not at all! On the contrary, for the common people to emulate my family is the most ordinary thing there is!¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    I smiled brightly and pointed.


    ¡°Why, these are unmistakably the famed work of my eldest sister! That her original creation has managed to extend to even a tiny bakery is a measure of the people¡¯s respect for her! ¡­ Goodness, I had no idea the recipe had even been shared!¡±


    ¡°Ooh~ does that mean it¡¯s dangerous?¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me! Why would you assume anything made by my family is dangerous?¡±


    ¡°... Is it?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s ¡­ it¡¯s a very bold flavour.¡±


    ¡°Okay. So it¡¯s like a 7 on the cursed chart?¡±


    ¡°It is not cursed. It is blessed. Just like everything touched by the diligent hands of my family.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an 8, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Initial impressions might be an 8, yes,¡± I conceded. ¡°However, that¡¯s merely an indication of its complexity. These chouquettes are quite famous after the function they were first introduced. Half the guests went from finalising their wills to plucking extras with their fingers. That¡¯s the sort of effect they have.¡±


    Coppelia raised an arm enthusiastically.


    ¡°I want to try!¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I offered a bright smile at her enthusiasm. And maybe her blissful ignorance too.


    Naturally, it was also my duty to share in whatever momentary discomfort she felt. Although I didn¡¯t expect anything that was crudely emulated to compare with my sister¡¯s work, it was only right that I encourage the common bakeries of my kingdom to strive for higher standards.


    Thus, I patiently waited for the proprietor¨Call the while stretching over the counter and waving.


    A moment later, an elderly lady rewarded my subtlety.


    Appearing from the kitchen, she was the very picture of a kindly auntie.


    With a bun of grey hair, a melodic hum at her lips and a warm smile, she looked more likely to give away her pastries than sell them. Instead, she swiftly made her way over to the counter, paying no need to her apron covered with enough flour to restock all of the shelves.


    Her eyes were a veritable fountain of life. Likely since we were her only customers.


    ¡°Goodness me,¡± she said with a joyful tone. ¡°I see the bell above the door has fallen off again. Apologies, apologies. I hope I didn¡¯t keep you waiting. What would you like, my dears?¡±


    I pointed at the mound of chouquettes.


    ¡°Salutations. I¡¯d like to inquire about how you came about this recipe.¡±


    The elderly auntie gave a good-hearted laugh.


    I smiled and waited.


    ¡°... Oh, you do?¡± she said, clearing her throat momentarily. ¡°Well, in that case, I suppose you can call it a flash of inspiration. The recipe came to me in a dream.¡±


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°A dream?¡±


    I was shocked.


    Why ¡­ to think that Florella had such powers as to deliver baking recipes through dream delivery! As expected of my sister, she was truly capable!


    ¡°Indeed, my dear.¡± The auntie smiled. ¡°It¡¯s been a good few years since I¡¯ve had one of them. But each time I do, I¡¯m guaranteed a new favourite. Have you heard of these, then? They¡¯re my best sellers. It¡¯s a slow day, what with the trouble outside. But usually, I get quite a few in just for them.¡±


    I nodded towards the green powdered chouquettes.


    ¡°I see. I¡¯d expect nothing less. They certainly appear normal.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope they also taste normal. Why not have a try now? A free sample.¡±


    ¡°Truly? How very generous!¡± I beamed, immediately poking Coppelia¡¯s hand away as she reached for the entire mound to sample. ¡°... But before I do, I have an additional query to make.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s regarding the ruffians who plague this town.¡±


    The auntie blinked at me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain if I can help with that. All my customers are excellent.¡±


    ¡°Even those who trouble you in the night?¡±


    She paused.


    A moment later, her eyes wandered to the shadow blocking the window. Her smile turned to one of apology.


    ¡°Ah. The concerned gentleman from the previous night ¡­ I¡¯m uncertain what he¡¯s told you, but I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s been a terrible misunderstanding. I had my nephews visiting me, and rascals though they are, I wouldn¡¯t quite call them ruffians yet. I should offer the minotaur an apology. He rather startled me¨Cand I dare say my younger family too.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? I¡¯m certain he¡¯ll be relieved to hear that. Yet perhaps you can still assist. I¡¯m told you can discern the identity of whichever ghoul is disrupting your business by using ¡­ unique magic.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade.


    However, the energy from her eyes did. Her shoulders drooped as she let out a sigh she¡¯d doubtless made countless times before.


    ¡°I see the rumours continue to follow me, no matter how many cakes I sell ¡­ however, I¡¯m afraid I must disappoint you as well. It¡¯s true I once dabbled in spirit walking. But that was long ago. These days, I can¡¯t even call a spark to my finger. I¡¯ve a new life now. Not as a shaman, but as a baker.¡±


    ¡°Hm. It seems a remarkably different life.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes.¡± She nodded furtively. ¡°But we all grow and change. Myself as well. Magic is a dangerous gift, you see, and I¡¯m happy not to need it to see my customers smile. I apologise, my dear, but I¡¯m unable to offer my past services.¡±


    I nodded, neither surprised nor disappointed.


    After all, I only came to bakeries for one reason. And that was to replenish our critical provisions. If they also became a source of information, that¡¯d simply distract from the more important task.


    ¡°Understandable.¡± I plucked the topmost pastry from the chouquette mound. ¡°Thank you for your time. I¡¯d like to purchase a large stock of hazelnut croissants, apple strudels and cinnamon rolls.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s back straightened all of 1 degree


    ¡°That I can help with. How many of each did you wish to buy? If needed, I¡¯m happy to bake more.¡±


    ¡°Realy? That¡¯s marvellous! In that case, I¡¯m going to ¡­ hmmmm?¡±


    ¡°... My dear?¡±


    A quizzical look came my way.


    It was nothing compared to my own.


    I stared at the chouquette I¡¯d raised in front of me. And then I continued to stare.


    Because although it looked the part, there was something peculiar beyond simply the stale texture. Something which even being left out to dry in a dimly lit bakery couldn¡¯t explain.


    Slowly, I nibbled on the very end ¡­ and then I nodded.


    Awful.


    Absolutely awful ¡­ but also amazing.


    The proportions of ingredients were all wrong. The bitterness was hardly present. The custard was stodgy. The vanilla was frail. The buttercream lacked both butter and cream. And the powdered green tea was clearly used for only decoration and not flavour.


    Altogether, it was bland, depressing, characterless ¡­ and also wonderful.


    I stared in shock at the filling.


    Indeed, it was the most forgettable and therefore ordinary pastry I¡¯d ever eaten from a common bakery ¡­ and yet instead of immediately dismissing it from my mind, I couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of immense satisfaction mixed with my disappointment.


    A bizarre sensation.


    Frankly, I didn¡¯t understand it in the slightest.


    Something was clearly wrong. And it wasn¡¯t my highly refined taste buds. I was a princess. I could name every poor quality ingredient used as well as which speck of dirt it¡¯d been sourced from within 15 paces of accuracy.


    However ¡­ even I couldn¡¯t discern what made my aversion swing wildly towards enjoyment.


    Why, it was almost intangible. An ingredient I couldn¡¯t note. Something beyond my palate. It was there and it wasn¡¯t. A thing of utterly no substance, separated from the rest of the pastry.


    And then¨C


    I gasped, stepping back as half a chouquette fell to the floor.


    ¡°... H-How dare you!¡± I said, my hands covering my mouth.


    ¡°My dear?¡±


    ¡°You ¡­ You have used magic to enhance the flavour!¡±


    All of a sudden, the auntie¡¯s eyes widened.


    She had no right to be stunned. That was entirely for me.


    After all, what she¡¯d done ¡­ was an unforgivable sin!


    To cheat, no, to disgrace her entire profession with magic was the lowest of the low! Those caught were instantly exiled into culinary obscurity! It was a heinous crime, for it did away with all the sweat required to make up 95% of the taste!


    ¡°My dear,¡± said the con artist much too quickly. ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what you just said. But I think you must be mistaken¨C¡±


    ¡°I most certainly am not!¡± I pointed to the ¡­ thing on the ground. ¡°You cannot fool me! This ¡­ This is atrocious! The first and doubtless worst imitation of a chouquette I¡¯ll ever suffer! No amount of false enjoyment can smother the lack of quality and expertise beneath!¡±


    A feigned look of horror met me.


    ¡°I¡¯m a baking professional! I¡¯ve been doing this for more years than I can count!¡±


    ¡°Well, it seems you don¡¯t count grams, either! But why should you when magic will make up the rest!¡±


    ¡°Perhaps ¡­ Perhaps there¡¯s an issue with the ingredients? It¡¯s been a difficult few days.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been longer for your customers, apparently. Why, all this time, they¡¯ve had no idea they¡¯ve been waffling down baked magic! That cannot possibly be healthy!¡±


    A pause met me.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing unhealthy about magic. It¡¯s perfectly natural.¡±


    ¡°So you admit you¡¯re using magic?!¡±


    ¡°I admit these chouquettes are my best sellers¨CI¡¯ve even won several awards for them!¡±


    ¡°Awards not overseen by me and are therefore invalid! This is inexcusable! Using magic to debase such a regal recipe is an act lower than what any bandit on a road could achieve ¡­ and neither me nor my loyal handmaiden will accept it!¡±


    I waited for Coppelia¡¯s huff of indignation.


    ¡°Omnomnomnomnomnomnomnom~¡±


    Instead, I turned in dismay to see a mound of fraudulent chouquettes vanishing into the void.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then returned to the equally stunned con artist.


    ¡°H-How dare you damage Coppelia¡¯s taste buds! They¡¯re already harmed beyond repair! That you would seek to do even more to them is unforgivable!¡±


    I waited for the apology.


    However, far from immediately straining to grovel, the fraud briefly wrinkled her nose. The smile she¡¯d worn returned as an impression even worse than her attempt at baking.


    ¡°My dear. I do believe you¡¯re mistaken. As I said, I can no longer cast magic.¡±


    ¡°Well, then I suppose there¡¯ll be no issue if I summon the nearest mage to investigate the possibility. I¡¯m certain one can be found in the garrison somewhere. Rest assured, if I¡¯m wrong, I shall offer full reparations.¡±


    Thus, I immediately turned for the door.


    Pwam.


    It closed with a shudder, followed by the sound of a lock being turned.


    I looked behind me to see a sparkle of magic upon the finger of an auntie who could apparently no longer cast magic.


    Her eyes narrowed at me, just before she clicked her tongue.


    ¡°... All right, you brat,¡± she said, the far more natural tone of an irate cat owner replacing the kindly voice from before. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡±


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


    ¡°Ohhohohoho! Most wonderful! Indeed, let¡¯s converse without the needless pantomime! Honesty is far better than classless deceit!¡±


    ¡°Fine. What is it you want? ¡­ Crowns?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But not from you. You may rejoice. I¡¯ve no wish to extort you. Only to see your scam revealed for all your customers to see.¡±


    ¡°This is my business. That would ruin it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible. You¡¯ve already done that. And I¡¯ve not a single idea why. Perhaps without the magic, your chouquettes would only be subpar in quality. There are worse ways to embarrass yourself. Such as this.¡±


    The fraud suddenly snorted. The spark of magic upon her fingertip failed to fade.


    ¡°Subpar isn¡¯t good enough,¡± she declared. ¡°Do you have any inkling how competitive the world of baking is, girl? It¡¯s more than sugar and spice. But blood enough to turn a street with far too many bakeries into a battlefield.¡±


    I leaned in and smiled. The auntie leaned back.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ do you think I don¡¯t know that?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the one who presides over those battlefields. My ratings break careers. As you shall now learn.¡±.


    ¡°... Who are you, girl?¡±


    A frown filled my eyes. I offered a pleasant smile.


    ¡°Why, I¡¯m the most impartial judge you¡¯ll ever meet. And you¡¯ve now scored a -1/10. My congratulations. This is an exceedingly rare score. Frankly, with such an overwhelming lack of talent, you should have remained a roadside conjurer or whatever you were before.¡±


    A look of puzzlement flickered across the swindler¡¯s face.


    Then, her eyes glanced towards the copper ring disgracing my hand.


    The reaction was immediate. She lowered her arms, then with a loud clank, she drew out a crooked staff from behind the counter. Taller than she was and grimmer than the wrinkles on her face, it boasted a gemstone of black opal swirling with living magic.


    ¡°What I was before was the same as now,¡± she said proudly. ¡°Except with a few extra titles. I was Matron Hilda of the Barren Waste. It was I who seized the secrets of the earth from the spirit walkers. And it was I who brought the storm to them. You¡¯re extremely foolish to call me out of retirement, adventurer.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I hardly see why. Now you can cast your magic freely. Perhaps if you use every speck you possess, you can conjure an actual baker to do your job for you.¡±


    The auntie¡¯s nostrils flared.


    A moment later, her staff burst into crackling black flames.

 Chapter 360: A Princess’s Senses

    Apple snorted as the overgrown wheat tickled his sides.


    I nodded in agreement.


    This was no place for a princess. Or at least not while I wasn¡¯t sleeping through the ordeal.


    The last time I¡¯d ridden through a field of wheat, it was via the back of a royal carriage stuffed with so many cushions that opening the door had to be done with a stick.


    Despite Apple¡¯s valiant attempt at paving a new dirt road using just his hooves, he lacked the necessary weight to create infrastructure as he went. As a result, I saw with a heavy heart how sorely overdue my royal tour of the kingdom was.


    With Florella occupied in Trierport, Roland stuck in Reitzlake and Tristan based at the Loerstadt Gate, opportunities for our royal processions to improve the accessibility of our kingdom whenever we trundled through a barn were few and far between.


    It was only natural that my farmers were now pushed into voicing their complaints.


    After all, our carriages did more than leave a blackened trail of upturned dirt through their farms. It was both a badge of honour they could use to sell their products, as well as a warning to all would-be ruffians that my family were ever present.


    As such, I looked steadfastly ahead, tightly gripping Apple¡¯s reins while urging him onwards so that we may see to the plight of my people ¡­ especially since I was currently in mortal danger.


    Yes.


    There was a reason princesses only skipped through carefully curated meadows.


    Because if the wheat was high enough to magically dip into our footwear at every opportunity ¡­ then it was also high enough to hide the things which lived amongst them.


    Fwish.


    I pursed my lips, boldly ignoring the flash of a badger.


    Swish.


    I leaned away slightly, boldly ignoring the tail of a field mouse.


    Pwish.


    I huddled closer to Apple¡¯s back, boldly ignoring the ¡­ well, no, the fruit slime was acceptable. In fact, it looked like it was fleeing from the shambling corpse flower drooling at the edge of the field.


    Cautiously, I searched for any signs of hedgehogs.


    A moment later ¡­ I relaxed.


    Pwoosh!


    ¡°¨CHiee?!¡±


    Only to see a burst of wheat as a thing in the shape of Coppelia suddenly appeared.


    ¡°Look! I found a ruffian~¡±


    Her smile brighter than anything the late afternoon could hurl, she lifted her palms to reveal a squirrel lounging on her palm as it chewed on a sprig of leaves.


    I nodded at once.


    ¡°Indeed, you have. Squirrels are notorious for scratching at the bark of my apple trees.¡±


    ¡°Great! What should I do with it?¡±


    ¡°You may let it go. But with a stern reminder not to dig up private property. Especially mine. Besides, this isn¡¯t the ruffian we¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°Okie~¡±


    Coppelia gave a nod, then proceeded to toss the squirrel away without actually bothering to warn it. Even so, it bounded off into the distance to tell its friends of its near escape.


    It was a tale the hoodlums I¡¯d soon be sentencing with soap duties wouldn¡¯t enjoy ¡­ beginning with whatever pale miscreant was apparently leading them.


    Or as a fraudulent auntie called him¨Cthe monster in the darkness.


    Yes.


    Something foul was residing in my kingdom.


    A thing so malevolent that its presence could even be felt by a dishevelled baker, whose testimony just before being escorted away by a helpful minotaur was the news that something unseemly was now populating my nearby forests. A being of pure wickedness who¡¯d gathered all the unwanted hoodlums beneath a laughing banner.


    It was utterly shocking to me.


    After all, no matter how much I thought about it ¡­ this was truly the singular most useless information I¡¯d ever received!


    There was something foul hidden away in my forests?


    Why, that wasn¡¯t news! It was an understatement!


    Far from needing to scour beneath any branches, all I had to do to find something nefarious at play was to walk past a tavern!


    ¡­ Fortunately, while scheming aunties weren¡¯t useful, those they associated with were!


    Thus, it was now time to directly question the ruffians who needlessly harassed my peasants.


    For that, even the directions I was given were needless. All I had to do was follow the odour.


    Eventually, I pinched my nose and frowned.


    ¡°Do you smell that, Coppelia?¡±


    ¡°Yup! I don''t actually know which awful thing you¡¯re referring to, but I definitely smell it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m referring to the odour of drunken debauchery.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that.¡± Coppelia sniffed the air. It was so unpleasant she even forgot to wrinkle her nose. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s pretty much what we always smell when we sleep in an inn. I¡¯m surprised you still notice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. To safeguard my delicate sense of smell has been a constant endeavour. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve been routinely burying my face in the nice pillow throughout the day.¡±


    ¡°I thought you just did that because summoning a giant magical bed is fun.¡±


    ¡°... Yes, but it¡¯s also to reset my sense of smell, as is my royal duty. If I don¡¯t take full advantage of the Spring Queen¡¯s blessing of a permanent meadowy scent, it would set back human-fae relations.¡±


    ¡°But you always bad mouth the fae.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s also my royal duty. As long as they continue kidnapping the wrong princesses, I¡¯ll continue to remind them they can be more useful stealing away the more deserving instead.¡±


    ¡°... Such as unwashed hoodlums?¡±


    ¡°Such as unwashed hoodlums.¡±


    I nodded ¡­ all the while wrinkling my nose.


    Just ahead, a barn was at risk of collapsing to the magpies perched atop it.


    Little would be lost if it did.


    A makeshift bar was set up beneath its shadow, with kegs poorly disguised amongst barrels which once held seeds or crops. Tankards were filled and laden upon a table sat around by gentlemen as oblivious to the overgrown fields of wheat as the fact they were responsible for farming it.


    Or so their attire would suggest.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Overalls, pitchforks and mud.


    They were very much identical to the irate peasants who gathered at the Wessin Bridge.


    Except that unlike them, not even the most drunken farmer would permit a cooking fire to merrily burn while so close to an endless expanse of dry wheat. Nor would they be so easily caught napping where eyes could see.


    Instead, their hollering guffaws filled the open air, joined by the slapping of tables and the wincing when they realised that wood was hard.


    Yes.


    These specimens would do.


    ¡°Very well! ¡­ We shall query these brigands, sentence them to soap making and then swiftly be on our way. But remember¨Cdespite them being little more than nameless louts, we must never dispense with the usual subtlety we always observe.¡±


    ¡°Got it~!¡±


    Coppelia began stretching her arms. I nodded in satisfaction.


    Soon, the raucous laughter rang in my ears as I brought Apple towards the gathered scoundrels. So diligent were they in their hooliganism, that it wasn¡¯t until Apple was practically snorting at their muddy backs before they turned around.


    A gnarled table surrounded by blinking eyes met me.


    ¡°... Yes?¡± said the brigand nearest Apple¡¯s nostrils. ¡°Can we help you?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, you can,¡± I replied with a warm smile. ¡°Salutations, gentlemen. I¡¯m here to free you from your life of hardship from a cruel taskmaster. From now on, you may indulge in working relentlessly for a gentle soul instead.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m told that some vandal by the name of the Pale Ghoul is organising all the local misfits into disturbing my farmers. This is unacceptable. I¡¯m here to remove him.¡±


    Silence met my declaration. I expected nothing else.


    ¡°... Uh, do you mean the Pale Knight?¡± asked one of the louts.


    ¡°Yes. Where might I find him?¡±


    ¡°Lass, if we knew where he was, we¡¯d be telling the guards.¡±


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


    ¡°Ohohohohoho ¡­ how cute.¡±


    ¡°... ¡®Scuse me?¡±


    ¡°To feign such ignorance. Yet while I admit your synchronised looks of utter bewilderment and lack of obvious weapons being drawn is acting to a higher standard than I¡¯m used to, know that this isn¡¯t enough to fool me. You are clearly not farmers. And this is not your barn.¡±


    The ruffians exchanged blinks.


    ¡°Miss, we¡¯re farmers.¡±


    ¡°Please. You¡¯re clearly not. Pretending otherwise is useless.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not pretending.¡± The closest not-a-farmer pointed at the muddiest one here. ¡°That¡¯s Mr. Heaths. He owns all the farms here from the stream to the windmill.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°¡®Mr. Heaths¡¯? Did you spend all night thinking that up or is it the generic name all bandits are given?¡±


    A few tankards dropped alongside jaws.


    ¡°None of us here are bandits,¡± said ¡®Mr. Heaths¡¯, his shocked eyes straining in competition to widen more than everybody else¡¯s.


    I gave a small sigh, then jabbed my finger towards the barn.


    ¡°If you¡¯re farmers, then why would your own farm be in such a state of disrepair?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my house,¡± he said, his tone hurt.


    ¡°This barn is your house?¡±


    ¡°It looks better on the inside. Sure, it¡¯s seen better days, but so have we all. So long as it¡¯s sturdy enough to keep the worst of the cold out, it¡¯s more than good enough.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s clear it isn''t required to store anything crop related, at least. I see you¡¯re busy revelling over whatever scheme you¡¯ve recently accomplished.¡±


    The muddied man pointed towards one of his colleagues. He raised his hand sheepishly.


    ¡°It¡¯s Roy¡¯s birthday. Of course we have to celebrate.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And how many consecutive days of celebration is that, exactly? The wheat is so overgrown that it¡¯s threatening to invade the nearest forest.¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, but that¡¯s because I haven¡¯t been able to get any decent manure this entire year. I¡¯ve decided this wheat isn¡¯t for harvesting. Instead, most of it¡¯s going back into the soil as fertiliser. I¡¯ve decided to let this field fallow.¡±


    ¡°... What is ¡®fallow¡¯?¡±


    ¡°It means to let the field rest. It¡¯s a normal part of crop rotation.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°W-Wha¨C! That you¡¯d go so far as to learn farming terminology ¡­ ! Very well, I admit you¡¯ve certainly prepared your answers ¡­ even so, nothing can excuse having a fire threatening what remains of the barn ¡­ !¡±


    ¡°Well, sure, I can see why that¡¯s a concern. But there¡¯s not many places in a farm we can have a cooking fire that¡¯s completely safe, so we do what we can instead. The area is clear, it¡¯s always supervised and there¡¯s buckets of water on hand. Most of all, the fire isn¡¯t meant to be open like this. Usually it¡¯s covered with a pot. Martha¡¯s just getting a new one now. She insists the last one was too big.¡±


    I looked at the man in overwhelming confusion.


    ¡°Who is Martha? ¡­ Your supervisor?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah, you could see that.¡± The man gave a chuckle, then cupped a hand to the side of his mouth as he turned towards the barn. ¡°... Martha, we¡¯ve got guests! You need to bring the big pot back!¡±


    ¡°¨CWhat?¡±


    To my horror, I watched as a woman with curly hair and a yellow apron stuck her head out of the door as it immediately creaked ajar.


    Below her popped out another head.


    One considerably smaller.


    A small girl whose curious eyes looked at me with much less horror than I looked at her.


    I pursed my lips ¡­ then returned my attention to the muddiest lout ¡­ man ¡­ farmer ¡­


    ¡°... Excuse me, but is that small child a brigand?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s 6.¡±


    A round of good-natured laughter filled the air.


    Farmers whose voices were bereft of hostility, their palms slapping against the table once more. One laughed so hard he began to choke. He went into his pockets and emptied out a rag to wipe his mouth.


    I was stunned.


    These ¡­ These were not louts! At least not when they weren¡¯t in a tavern!


    They were farmers!


    My princess senses ¡­ had failed me?!


    All of a sudden¨CI felt my world collapsing around me.


    T-This had never happened before!


    My princess senses were foolproof! They¡¯re what I used to sense the malevolence of my etiquette tutor as much as the hoodlums which plagued my kingdom! A finely crafted tool sharpened over years of daily use as I expertly hid between the same two wardrobes I¡¯d hidden in the past 164 times hoping she¡¯d never think I¡¯d do the same tactic 165 times!


    Could I have spent too much time punting fruit slimes? ¡­ No, that¡¯s ridiculous. Practising my delicate gardening techniques was the epitome of elegance!


    And yet ¡­ I couldn¡¯t deny that these muddied peasants were assuredly harmless peasants!


    This was utterly bizarre. All the more so as I could still sense the odour of ill-will.


    It hovered in the air as thick as ash. A familiar tingling of debauchery which pricked at my nose like the mysterious brown sludge served in common inns I¡¯d never once eaten but seemed to recognise upon sight.


    In fact ¡­ it was only becoming stronger!


    Fwiiish.


    A moment later¨C


    The source of the overwhelming discomfort revealed itself.


    A small group of armed ruffians calmly exited the tall wheat, arrayed in the finest rags that crowns couldn¡¯t buy. Covered in more dirt and bits of crops than any farmer spent in a field, they wielded crooked smiles far more terrifying than the clubs and rusted daggers in their hands.


    ¡°Well, well. What do we have ¡®ere, eh? Looks like another gathering you weren¡¯t invited to, Sourface.¡±


    ¡°Shaddup, Lemmy. I don¡¯t see an invite for you, either.¡±


    ¡°Both of you hush it. I ain¡¯t crawling through all them fields again just to get the jump on farmers. I got bitten three times by things that don¡¯t even have teeth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, if you weren¡¯t so ugly, Mother Nature wouldn¡¯t be so upset.¡±


    Horror came over the faces of the farmers.


    One of them rose, only to be stopped as a hoodlum immediately pointed a dagger his way.


    ¡°None of you move,¡± said the ruffian, his dark eyes squinting over everyone present. ¡°I¡¯m sure you all know how this works by now. Let¡¯s do this like gentlemen, shall we? Crowns in one pile. Jewellery in another. Everything else in another.¡±


    Cheeks paled all around me. And no wonder.


    Against such a motley group of brigands, it was already clear that neither pleas nor tears could move them. These were assuredly the most shameless louts that mud could spawn.


    Thus ¡­ I let out a sigh of overwhelming relief.


    Oh, thank goodness! My princess senses were working just fine!


    ¡°Ah, but I see we¡¯ve ladies here as well,¡± said the ruffian, finally sparing a glance away from the farming men. ¡°So how about you go first and ¡­¡±


    The man suddenly stopped.


    He stared at me. At Apple. And at Coppelia as she began joyfully rotating her shoulders.


    Suddenly, his squinting eyes opened as a spark of recognition lit up within them.


    ¡°My gods,¡± he whispered. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ It¡¯s ¡­¡±


    Indeed, there could be no doubt.


    This odour wasn¡¯t just nauseating ¡­ it was also distinctly familiar.


    ¡°You.¡± I pointed at the hoodlum. ¡°Were you not the same implacably low-tier hoodlums who attempted to accost me outside the forests of Rolstein?¡±


    The man immediately quivered. His eyes went to the sword by my side.


    ¡°N-No ¡­¡±


    I pointed at his companions. All of them snapped to attention, like servants called for inspection.


    ¡°Furthermore ¡­ I distinctly remember you being involved in a petty scheme involving kidnapping cats from the streets of Trierport. Why, I even punted you through a door! Were you not all arrested ¡­ ?¡±


    The nearest ruffian gulped, his squinting eyes magically repaired by virtue of my healing aura. They were now as wide as dinner plates.


    They could be wider still.


    ¡°Miss ¡­ ma¡¯am ¡­ listen, we¡¯ve changed ¡­ t-this isn¡¯t what it looks like, I swear ¡­ !¡±


    I smiled.


    And then I slowly drew Starlight Grace.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ my, is that so?¡±


    Each of them seized up, their legs torn between fleeing and remaining stationary and harmless. Expressions of overwhelming regret flickered across each of their faces.


    A moment later, they did what any ruffians in their situation could do.


    They threw down their weapons and struck the ground with their foreheads.

 Chapter 361: Gainful Employment

    I leaned down and brushed my palm over the flattened wheat stubs.


    Soft. Level. Tickly.


    It was like the top of my father¡¯s hair following the time Clarise tripped over and launched her latest invention over him. After the unscheduled trim by the royal barber, the result was something both oddly springy and smooth¨Cand was thus fun to brush my hand over for all of 5 minutes.


    This time, I only needed a single moment.


    Feeling none of the golden roots passing above my fingers, I stood up and gave a hum of consideration.


    A moment later ¡­ I nodded.


    ¡°Acceptable.¡±


    Before me, a small group of hoodlums stared with sweat washing away the mud from their faces.


    Their lips quivered, their wide eyes alert and disbelieving, all the while their constantly shaking hands gripped around the pitchforks, sickles and scythes they held or leaned against for support.


    They waited for me to issue a complaint.


    I didn¡¯t. And so a jumbled cry of joy, exhaustion and relief met my ears.


    Especially as there was still more to come.


    I held up my finger. The exuberance ceased at once.


    ¡°Indeed, this is an acceptable start,¡± I said with a kind smile. ¡°Now you must take all you¡¯ve learned and apply it to every field of wheat you see. Once you¡¯ve finished, you can make a start on the other crops as well.¡±


    The expressions of happiness only grew more pronounced.


    Indeed, the hoodlums were so delighted that the tears threatening to dry suddenly reappeared.


    I wasn¡¯t quite that overjoyed, but I was still satisfied.


    All around me, a field which was previously overgrown to the point of confusing my princess senses was now on its way to becoming tidy. Where dipping stalks of wheat existed before, only a perfectly measured square of roots and stems now shone¨Cmostly owing to the continuous nourishment of tears.


    To the side, bundles of tomorrow¡¯s flour were meticulously stacked in a steadily growing pile assorted by grade.


    Not by me, of course.


    But rather, the farmers beaming while idly drinking.


    ¡°Hm, not bad,¡± said Mr ¡­ the owner of these fields. ¡°Really wasn¡¯t planning on harvesting this batch. The grain yield is poor. But if I¡¯m going to have mischief makers hiding in them, I may as well use it as feed. Not much value in it otherwise.¡±


    ¡°The value is in teaching ruffians the error of their ways,¡± I replied, nodding wisely while placing my hand upon my chest. ¡°Sweat washes away both mud and foulness of spirit.¡±


    ¡°Well, they¡¯ve certainly got spirit. I¡¯m surprised. They picked this up faster than I imagined. But I suppose you also need good hands if you want to be an outlaw.¡±


    The farmer sounded impressed.


    I could only raise a brow.


    Frankly, these ruffians had better legs than hands given how often they¡¯d escaped justice.


    ¡­ Fortunately, they now had an opportunity to make good on their arrears!


    Indeed, this was officially the start of their journey to compensate the kingdom for their mishaps, and although the horizon before them was as endless as my kindness, I had little doubt they could reach it.


    Eventually. Maybe.


    After all, even Coppelia was helping them.


    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re still doing it wrong!¡± she said, looking aggrieved as she pointed at the only hoodlum to use a scythe. ¡°There¡¯s no point cutting it one bundle at a time! I told you to swing with 2% of your strength! If you do that, you can clear this field in one sweep!¡±


    ¡°Uuuh ¡­ but ¡­ but I don¡¯t think I can ¡­¡±


    ¡°Sure you can! Just try slightly harder!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m trying but ¡­ my arms ache so much ¡­ I ¡­ I think it¡¯s about to fall off ¡­¡±


    ¡°If it does, you can just stick it back on! The only reason it aches is because you¡¯re not swinging the scythe with feeling! If you don¡¯t respect your scythe, your scythe won¡¯t respect you!¡±


    ¡°I ¡­ I don¡¯t think I can even feel anymore ¡­ everything is becoming numb ¡­¡±


    The hoodlum with the scythe made a pitiful sweep with his farming tool, managing to do just enough to cause a ladybird to land upon it before flying off again.


    Sensing the danger, I stepped forwards just before Coppelia could volunteer to farm.


    ¡°Very well!¡± I said brightly. ¡°Given your efforts so far, I shall permit one of you a brief rest¨C¡±


    The hoodlums all brightened at once.


    ¡°¨Cso that one of you may answer my queries regarding your sordid presence.¡±


    The sounds of farming instruments at work and laborious breathing immediately filled the air.


    Naturally, I was overjoyed. None of them wished to be overtaken on the road to redemption. Even so, I still needed answers.


    ¡°You.¡± I clicked my fingers towards the hoodlum with the most teeth. ¡°I hereby deem you ruffian #1. Explain. How did you escape from Trierport¡¯s cells?¡±


    The man looked up, then glanced towards his colleagues. None of them met his eyes.


    He swallowed a gulp and raised himself.


    ¡°We, uh, we didn¡¯t escape. We were set free.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I was utterly stunned. ¡°Are you saying you have accomplices? Amongst who? Guards? Judges? Who would lack the standards to accept whatever bribes you could offer?¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Well, no, we didn¡¯t bribe anyone. We were only in the cells for a few nights.¡±


    ¡°W-Wha¨C?! How is that possible? You committed arduous crimes in broad daylight!¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, we ¡­ we only kidnapped some cats.¡±


    The man ended his sentence there, as though it was all which needed to be said.


    I was aghast.


    ¡°Only?! ¡­ That debacle was a humiliation for me! The acknowledgement I received from accidentally rescuing those cats is a blotch against my reputation I¡¯ll have to live with until I can find the drawer which holds all the official records!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m very sorry? But, uh, for what it¡¯s worth, you don¡¯t look like someone who¡¯d rescue cats.¡±


    The sound of labour immediately halted.


    Jaws dropped as the man¡¯s colleagues stared at his back. I shared in their shock.


    After all ¡­ that was one of the most appropriate things I¡¯d ever heard!


    ¡°My, so you do know courtesy!¡± I said, offering a bright smile. ¡°That is the exact sort of politeness which can go a long way ¡­ just not enough for me to ignore you disregarding the mercy of a justice system in need of clear overhaul. Or my famed kindness. To repeat your mistakes is a poor decision.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t mean to!¡± replied ruffian #1 at once, his eyes wide. ¡°We tried to change! We did!¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing happened! That¡¯s ¡­ well, that¡¯s the problem! That¡¯s always the problem! It¡¯s not like we want to be outlaws living off the land¨Cbut nobody will take us in. There¡¯s nothing we can do. Not when we¡¯ve got dumb names like Sourface, Patches and Lemmy.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Then change your names.¡±


    The ruffian paused.


    ¡°... We like our names,¡± he admitted, his meek words drawing a few nods in response.


    I briefly sighed into my palms.


    ¡°Fine. So you¡¯re cursed with inappropriate names. Is this why you choose to rob farmers of their possessions? One of them is even celebrating their birthday. That is awful.¡±


    ¡°We had no choice,¡± claimed the ruffian, pointing instantly towards the nearby forest. ¡°It¡¯s ¡­ It¡¯s the boss.¡±


    ¡°The boss.¡±


    ¡°The boss. The new one, I mean. Not the old one. He, uh ¡­ he went off to farm, pretty much just like this. But the new boss¨Che ain¡¯t good. And I say that from us. That man¡¯s not just the bad type. I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s ¡­ well, evil.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Do you mean he robbed a tax inspector?¡±


    ¡°Um ¡­ I don¡¯t rightly know. But he¡¯s evil. As in actually evil.¡±


    I leaned in slightly.


    ¡°... How evil?¡±


    ¡°More evil than you can know. You see it around him. Like a fog.¡±


    The ruffian dented his brows in seriousness. I offered a nod.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Ohhohohohooohohohoho!!¡±


    I raised a hand to my lips, rewarding the bewildered hoodlums with the gift of my healing laughter.


    My, but wasn¡¯t this wonderful?


    A bandit with a slightly unpleasant aura.


    I see this one was truly pushing the boundaries. It was little wonder none of my knights had found this unique scoundrel yet. He was so utterly mundane that it acted as its own invisibility spell.


    ¡°... Very well, then.¡± I offered a smile. ¡°Quite frightening, indeed. Would he also be habitually rude, a frequent cackler and in possession of a scar?¡±


    The ruffian didn¡¯t immediately answer. His eyes glanced towards the forest instead.


    ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I¡¯m not too sure on the scar. He always wears a helmet. I don¡¯t hear much laughing or rudeness, either. But that¡¯s the thing about him. He only needs a few words to drain the life out of you. He calls himself the Pale Knight, but I reckon it¡¯s everyone else that¡¯s pale around him.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d expect nothing less. A petty hooligan pretending to be a bandit knight is shameless beyond measure.¡±


    The ruffian shook his head manically.


    ¡°He¡¯s more than that,¡± he said, his voice lowering. ¡°Whatever you think he is, it¡¯s worse. He¡¯s gathered everyone. Even friends of the old boss. And they follow because he¡¯s strong. So strong we don¡¯t know why he needs us collecting tithes for him.¡±


    ¡°I see ¡­ and I suppose you¡¯re pretending to follow along, is it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Because we¡¯ve seen what happens to those who say no. Those who try to run. It¡¯s like a game to him. He finds them quick as a hound, stares them right in the eye ¡­ and then they¡¯re not right anymore.¡±


    The man scrunched up his fists.


    Those behind him nodded. Their earnestness was clear.


    Apparently, this pale vagabond was so odorous that even brigands couldn¡¯t recover. A truly horrifying prospect. But all the more reason to sweep the blemish away.


    ¡°Very well. I thank you for the warning. And so where might I find this hoodlum?¡±


    The ruffian blinked for several moments, astonished that I¡¯d dare risk my nose.


    It wasn¡¯t until I began tapping my foot that he pointed again towards the forest.


    ¡°... Well, uh, I don¡¯t know where he is. But he has the higher ups collecting the tithes. They¡¯ll know. There¡¯s a stream nearby. If you follow it, that¡¯ll take you straight to one of the bigger camps. But I don¡¯t think you should go. That man ¡­ he¡¯s different. He¡¯s not like us good-for-nothings.¡±


    ¡°True. You¡¯re worth far more.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve harvested wheat,¡± I said simply. ¡°Your worth is already greater than any of your peers. For while the gold you now gather is different from the gold you¡¯ve illegally taxed through your numerous misdeeds, the joy it brings is no different. It is the gift from which every smile and perfectly springy shortcake blooms.¡±


    I gestured at the fruits of their labour.


    In unison, all the louts took in the piled up bundles of wheat and the flattened field as though only seeing past their tears for the first time.


    ¡°Yeah ¡­ you might be right,¡± came a reply caught in a sniffle. ¡°I ¡­ I think I understand the boss now. I dunno why, but this does feel a lot better than what we usually do.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± I clapped my hands in joy. ¡°In that case, you may continue your rehabilitation under the supervision of these helpful farmers! ¡­ At least until I¡¯ve time to discuss matters of soap.¡±


    ¡°S-Soap?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Soap. This will be a very important conversation. But since this new forest gnat clearly requires it more, I¡¯ll allow a pause until my return. In the meanwhile, please do your best to harvest until you reach the horizon and not to go mysteriously missing. Otherwise, my smile will take on a different shape.¡±


    The edges of my lips curled very slightly, threatening to shift from a smile to a frown.


    A small gulp answered.


    ¡°I ¡­ we understand ¡­ please have a safe trip.¡±


    ¡°Why, thank you.¡±


    Satisfied all was done, I turned to find my noble steed.


    I found him making friends with the farmers.


    It filled me with pride to see that they were clearly more enthusiastic about Apple than they were about their temporary workers. At the same time, it was somewhat dire that he wasn¡¯t recognised as a royal steed.


    ¡°¨CWait.¡±


    Suddenly, Ruffian #1 called out to me. I duly glanced behind.


    ¡°There¡¯s ¡­ well, there¡¯s something else you should probably know,¡± he said, wearing a clear expression of hesitation. ¡°If you¡¯re going into the forest, that is. To talk to the new boss. About soap.¡±


    ¡°Yes ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that ¡­ there¡¯s something in there. Something other than freakish knights and worthless louts like us. There¡¯s a darkness. A shadow. A thing hiding in the forest. Haunting it.¡±


    Ughhhhhhhhh.


    I let out a small groan.


    Of course there was a thing. Why wouldn¡¯t there be?


    ¡°Fine. What is this unnecessary nuisance, then? ¡­ Some drooling demon?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know. None of us do. But it¡¯s a ferocious, growling beast that takes people away ¡­ a monster in the shape of a girl.¡±


    He paused.


    ¡°... Sort of your size,¡± he added meekly.


    A wall of fervent nods was directed towards me.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    Then, I simply continued towards Apple.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Excellent. Perhaps I can ask her for directions.¡±

 Chapter 362: Black & White

    A gentle breeze swept a leaf against the front of my hair.


    I blew it away.


    High above me, snatches of golden light weaved amidst the shifting canopy as the sun began to drop. The result was a forest lit in the colours of springtime as summer dared to near. Where the sunlight poked between the leaves, a myriad of vibrant hues shone back.


    But none more so than from a glimmering stream.


    As it weaved amongst the handsome oaks, its surface sparkled like a watery kaleidoscope.


    Here and there, tiny rainbows were formed where the stream tumbled down a handful of stone slabs.


    Joined by the blushing tulips and the swaying fronds which grew along its edges, it was the perfect guide as it led us zigzagging through a forest so tranquil that any suggestion that bandits could be plaguing it was almost unthinkable.


    Which is why¨C


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    I skipped over a hemp rope tied between two trees.


    Then, I waited for Coppelia to join me before I scooped up a twig and tossed it towards the rope.


    Thunk.


    A rock promptly dropped from the branches, just large enough to murder anyone not wearing a helmet.


    Satisfied at the result, I continued onwards, admiring the blushing tulips, the singing blackbirds, the reflection of my smile in the stream ... and also another hemp rope tied between two trees.


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    I duly skipped over it ¡­ before waiting again for Coppelia to join me.


    Thump.


    A slightly larger rock dropped after I tossed a twig.


    Content once more, I turned around and continued onwards, enjoying the sight of a forest which wasn¡¯t cursed with thorned roots and overly large badgers attempting to murder me.


    Instead, all I found was another hemp rope tied between two trees.


    ¡°Hup.¡±


    And then another. And another.


    Thwump. Thwump. Thwump.


    One after another, rocks of gradually increasing size but exactly the same mechanism dropped from branches which were gradually bending so wildly that I only needed to look up to see where the hemp ropes were lying in wait.


    Thus, many rocks later¨C


    I threw up my arms in utter exasperation.


    ¡°If I¡¯m not dying the 1st time, why do you think I¡¯m dying the 18th time ¡­ ?!¡±


    I was aghast.


    To use the same trap repeatedly wasn¡¯t simply ridiculous¨Cit was hopelessly uncouth!


    Indeed, while it worked as an insult, it utterly failed as a trap!


    Was this truly the best that the brigands who plagued this forest could do?! ¡­ At this rate, I¡¯d be on my way before the hour was done ¡­ which was good, yes, but not at the expense of my sanity!


    Coppelia giggled, all the while chewing on a bundle of red tulips plucked from the stream.


    ¡°Optimism is good~¡± she said generously. ¡°We need more of this in the world.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s optimism and then there¡¯s obstinance. This somehow goes even further. Why is it that only the size of the rocks are changing? Why not try something different? All this is doing is leaving dents in my forests.¡±


    ¡°Maybe this guy just really hates grass.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose this would explain the discount bulk purchase on gradually widening rocks.¡±


    ¡°I mean, at some point, the rocks are going to get big enough that they¡¯ll start hitting your entire kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Unlikely. It¡¯d mean somebody would have to trip over these absurdly obvious ropes. Most aren¡¯t even ankle height.¡± I shook my head in dismay. ¡°... No, this is awful. If any bandit wishes to rise up in the world of hooliganism, they¡¯ll first need to learn how to properly dispose of their enemies. Even a drunkard could harmlessly stumble over traps so shoddy.¡±


    Coppelia tilted her head in thought.


    ¡°Really? Because I thought you were pretty impressive.¡±


    ¡°... Hm?¡±


    ¡°I mean, even if it¡¯s the same trap, it doesn¡¯t really matter. Most humans specialise in finding amazing ways to get themselves killed. But you¡¯re actually pretty good at not dying to dumb traps.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°O-Ohohohoho ¡­ why, of course!¡± I placed a hand atop my chest and smiled. ¡°As a princess, even traps as sophisticated as these cannot harm me! ¡­ Why, I must be elegance itself! To ever allow my feet to be taken unawares is no different to a merchant falling prey to a con artist or a knight being caught with hair that¡¯s not even fashionably dishevelled¨Cit would be a humiliation.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh, I see~! is this part of princess training?¡±


    ¡°No, it is not part of princess training. It is something I learned on the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°... Meaning that ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Meaning that I learned it during the chaos of our soir¨¦es.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that makes more sense.¡±


    I nodded wisely, then continued onwards while searching for additional traps for Coppelia¡¯s benefit.


    ¡°Indeed, compared to the swiping legs of nobility during the turmoil of a court waltz, this is child¡¯s play. If I can keep my feet when everybody is doing their best to accidentally step on my heels, then even meticulously placed traps such as these have no hope of defeating me.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Huh. The dancing you guys do sounds less torturous than I thought.¡±


    ¡°It is and it isn¡¯t,¡± I helpfully explained. ¡°Traditional court dancing comes rife with intrigue. That is the height of dullness ¡­ which is why we stipulate that all dresses must be no shorter than a carpet in length. The chaos that always ensues sets back the next organised betrayal by years. Cheese, biscuits and insults everywhere.¡±


    ¡°Oooh~ that almost sounds fun!¡±


    I clapped my hands together and smiled.


    ¡°Not all formality is mundane ¡­ just most! Speaking of dancing, how much do you know?¡±


    ¡°Lots. Many. So much.¡±


    ¡°O-Oh? Truly?¡±


    Coppelia twirled on the spot.


    It was very pretty. It also wasn¡¯t official.


    ¡°I know the Coppelia,¡± she declared confidently.


    I nodded at once.


    ¡°The Coppelia is truly a form which defies expectation. Which has its place. Just not when you¡¯re wearing a needlessly cumbersome dress. But that¡¯s fine ¡­ I will teach you!¡±


    ¡°Eh? You want to teach me how to dance?¡±


    ¡°Naturally, I do! It¡¯s part of your handmaiden training. I¡¯m certain you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡±


    My loyal handmaiden, who still had a considerable list of exercises to go through including tea making, tea pouring and tea spilling upon designated guests, leaned ever so slightly away.


    ¡°Hmmmm ¡­ I dunno, it looks kinda stuffy. I¡¯m too cute for that.¡±


    ¡°As am I. But neither you nor I ever had a tutor like me. Dancing is the oldest art for a reason. It¡¯s an expression of the soul. Moreover, learning to dance in the courtly style will allow you to take my place when a suitor comes to bother me.¡±


    ¡°Pass.¡±


    ¡°C-Coppelia! There are only positives! ¡­ Mostly for me, but it¡¯ll also help your eyes become keener!¡±


    ¡°Eeehh ¡­ my eyes are pretty good, though?¡±


    ¡°They are. But they can be better. Trust me, once you¡¯ve grown accustomed to the sight of rival dance partners attempting to dislocate your fibula, you shall see the world in a different light. Using just their footsteps, you can discern their every wicked intention.¡±


    Coppelia hummed for a moment.


    Then, she raised her arm.


    ¡°Question!¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Can it discern wicked intentions even if they¡¯re not human?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes¨Cas long as they have legs, then just the way they move their toes will betray their innermost thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Great! This should be easy, then.¡±


    ¡°... Is it because the thing you¡¯re referring to has four legs and not two?¡±


    ¡°Mmh~¡±


    We came to a sudden stop.


    Before us, the sight of the first large-scale blemish had finally appeared.


    The stream continued onwards, weaving through a meadow spoiled by the greatest source of public littering I¡¯d seen since the last time a handful of elves had gathered together.


    It was a mess of patchwork tents and everything they contained. Some had been staked in the grass, while others had been allowed to blow over.


    Disused clothing, bowls and bedrolls were scattered in all directions, while crates and barrels were piled up with little concern for either organisation or the fact that many of the lids were left ajar, offering the wood mice to stuff their tummies before summer¡¯s arrival.


    There were also racks of weapons. Most of which were now on the ground.


    Along with the blood stains.


    And a single cow.


    Moooo.


    Yes.


    There in the centre of what was very much a hastily deserted bandit camp ¡­ was a cow with a bell.


    Clink, clink. Clink, clink.


    It stood beside a cauldron long gone cold.


    A large, common farm animal found up and down my kingdom. It boasted a fetching black and white pattern, large flappy ears, a swishing tail and a bundle of grass in its mouth.


    It raised its head and gazed directly at us ¡­ all the while chewing away and offering little notice to the abandonment around it.


    Or indeed, the clear evidence of violence.


    ¡°... Alrighty!¡± Coppelia turned to me with a clear look of expectation. ¡°What¡¯s the cow¡¯s intention?¡±


    I stared at said cow.


    ¡°Those are hooves. Not toes. It doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    A giggle came in response. That was good. The more amused she was, the less people would believe her when she explained what we¡¯d seen.


    ¡°Very well,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°This is a somewhat more original trap ¡­ come, we¡¯ll go around the camp.¡±


    ¡°Eh?! You want to ignore the cow?¡±


    ¡°No, I want to ignore the cow surrounded by blood. I¡¯ve no idea what this is, but I do know that continuing not to know will make my life happier. That is the most important thing in the world.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave the cow.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s evil? We can¡¯t miss what hilarious things it does.¡±


    I quietly groaned.


    ¡°Coppelia, we came here to interrogate brigands, not suspicious farm animals surrounded by blood. Yes, I realise their language skills are likely on-par, but I doubt a cow knows more than whatever misfits have abandoned it.¡±


    ¡°Abandoned it ¡­ or been eaten by it.¡±


    Suddenly, Coppelia leaned forwards slightly, studying the cow for any signs of demonic energy.


    After a moment¨C


    ¡°Mmh~ it¡¯s not a horse,¡± she declared confidently. ¡°Want to poke it?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± I replied, appalled at the very suggestion. ¡°Unless it¡¯s part of a staged public relations event, I¡¯ve no obligation to approach a suspicious cow. What if it sneezes at me?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll just mean it likes you.¡±


    ¡°... True. But regardless, I see no reason to poke it. We have things to do.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but if we leave the cow surrounded by blood alone, historical records indicate there¡¯s a 99.8% probability it¡¯s going to end up conquering the world and covering it in shadow. Which I¡¯m fine with. But it¡¯ll also mean you having to leave your tower to fix everything again.¡±


    My mouth widened.


    Just which history books did Coppelia read, exactly ¡­ ?! Because I could absolutely see a scenario where this came true!


    ¡°Very well.¡± I briefly closed my eyes, aggrieved at every option. ¡°One of us needs to approach and see what the cow does, then. If it¡¯s normal, we can at least shoo it towards a farm so productivity isn¡¯t going to waste.¡±


    A moment of silence passed.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Rock, paper, scissors, go!!¡±


    I looked down.


    ¡°... Uuuugghh, fine,¡± I said, bravely strolling forward to meet my doom. ¡°If I die, let it be known that it was by a carrot. I¡¯ll at least remove it from every menu as my final act.¡±


    Ignoring the round of applause behind me, I approached the blinking cow.


    Still, it did nothing.


    In fact ¡­ it simply leaned down to chew on a fresh tuft of grass.


    Something which would have been insulting were it not for the fact this was, in fact, a highly coordinated act. Because before I could even begin interrogating the farm animal, a different and mercifully familiar issue presented itself.


    A spear thrown unerringly from the treeline, dribbling with a noxious liquid as it went.


    I barely saw it ¡­ for beyond the weapon was something even more horrifying.


    The sight of a pale creature cloaked in malevolence.


    It wore blackened leather and a bloody scarf, its eyes alight with a flame that was both cold and burning with cruelty, its skin stretched taut over its bones.


    A human corpse risen from the soil.


    Pwiishh.


    The next moment, the spear broke as a black scythe ringed with shadow struck it cleanly in half.


    Its owner didn¡¯t mind.


    After all, he still had a better one.


    A figure in the shape of what was once a man raised another weapon. A boar spear more suited for hunting a frost mammoth than for use in battle.


    As he approached, its weight seemed to drag him down, his knees creaking and back stooped as he shambled closer. An undead horror whose sickly skin and pale hair reflected the sunlight. But even that compared little to the flames burning in its hollow sockets.


    Then ¡­ he came to a pause and pointed towards the cow.


    ¡°Her name¡¯s Daisy,¡± he said proudly. ¡°Daisy the Bloodletter.¡±


    The grazing farm animal looked up at me. I looked back.


    And then I came to one conclusion.


    ¡­ I should have brought Apple.

 Chapter 363: Proper Form

    Wights.


    Where darkness went, these foul creatures walked before it, carrying the blighted torches which smothered kingdoms and armies whole.


    Although they still possessed flesh and bones, they were but caricatures of who they were once, raised through necromancy to see out the wicked thoughts which had failed to fade along with the beating of their hearts.


    Possessing a fragment of their soul, they were the natural leaders of the undead.


    Intelligent, merciless and cruel, they boasted whatever strengths they had in life, now bolstered by the dark magic which had called them from the grave.


    Given the bloodstained scarf, the leather armour blackened by sheer virtue of his foul odour and the spear both barbed and glaived in his hand, there was little doubt as to where this wight¡¯s talents lay.


    All I cared about was the cow.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± I said, appalled that it could have a title reserved exclusively for chihuahuas. ¡°What did you call this cow?¡±


    The wight imitated a proud smile.


    Shifting the pale, ghostly hair from his flaming eyes, he nodded towards the farm animal with the same joy as farmers overlooking hoodlums harvesting wheat.


    ¡°Daisy the Bloodletter,¡± he said, cheerfully unapologetic over his murder attempt. ¡°Quite the sight, eh? Very fetching pattern, nice and distinct. Also notice the ears¨Ccalm as a grave. Not mine, of course. But usually. It means the flies haven¡¯t gotten to her yet. This cow is the very picture of health.¡±


    The cow nibbled on a tuft of grass.


    The grass stained in blood.


    ¡°Very well,¡± I said, only shocked that it hadn¡¯t begun spawning infernal imps yet. ¡°And just what manner of demonic monster is this, then?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a cow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and that¡¯s bad enough. But what even more frightful entity lurks beneath the skin?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. Daisy is an ordinary cow. Specifically a Lowlands Tress. They¡¯re a popular breed amongst dairy farmers owing to their high milk yields.¡±


    ¡°I see. I shall never remember that. And so why is this supposedly ordinary cow now surrounded by bloodied grass which you will shortly need to scrub?¡±


    ¡°To help acclimatise her to her role, of course.¡±


    ¡°Her role? What role? You just said this is a dairy cow. They do not need blood.¡±


    ¡°Most don¡¯t, no. But Daisy is unique. She¡¯s also my bloodhound.¡±


    ¡°... Excuse me?¡±


    The wight did its best to stand up straight.


    It failed as its rotten muscles laboured and bones creaked, the limits of necromancy as clear as the sunlight repulsed by his pale skin barely clinging to flesh.


    Even so, the look of contentment still remained.


    ¡°I am Alfred Dronn, famed huntsman of the woods. But as good as my nose is, my bloodhounds are always better. That¡¯s Daisy right here.¡±


    The cow lightly swished its tail.


    I could only nod in agreement ¡­ all the while raising a hand to my lips.


    ¡°Ohhohohohohohoho!!¡±


    Suddenly, all my bewilderment lessened as mirth took its place.


    I was utterly relieved. Here I thought I¡¯d be required to do battle against a cow. Instead, it was clear that the wight before me had been raised by the wrong necromancer. Especially as he had the nerve to look mildly aggrieved.


    ¡°Miss, I know it¡¯s not my place to tell others how to act, but this really isn¡¯t the proper response.¡±


    I relaxed my shoulders and offered an appreciative smile.


    ¡°Ohoho ¡­ is that so? And yet it¡¯s very much my place to do just that. So allow me to be brief¨Cit isn¡¯t a bloodhound you need, it¡¯s a complaint form.¡±


    ¡°... A what now?¡±


    ¡°I see the flames in your eye sockets are simply there to hide the lack of thought behind it. I advise you to seek formal compensation against whichever failed apprentice raised you from the grave. Clearly, they forgot to include your faculties if you believe a cow can serve as a bloodhound. What will it do? Shake its bell at me?¡±


    The wight wrinkled his nose.


    ¡°That bell is the call of doom. Once Daisy has tasted her first kill, the sound of that bell will invite terror like echoing footsteps in the dark.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a cow.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a cow formed of 1200 pounds of barely contained bloodlust.¡± The wight gestured at the grazing farm animal, having obviously had this conversation before. ¡°Do you think cows are merely pets to be admired? No, they are vicious. Are you aware of how many people die to cows each year? It is countless, for they leave neither prisoners nor distinguishable remains. If a cow charges you, then you won¡¯t even have time to issue a last wish. This is a being of destruction.¡±


    The being of destruction flared its nostrils.


    It turned away from a smattering of blood, choosing to nibble on a dandelion instead.


    ¡°Ohohohohoo!!¡± I placed both hands against my tummy as something began to hurt. ¡°Indeed, 1200 pounds of medium-rare steak au poivre! Why, I can already see the dangers of the marbled fat rushing towards me! I¡¯ll be comatosed for days!¡±


    The wight narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°If you must know, I did attempt to find an actual bloodhound. Sadly, the sheepdogs owned by farmers are already trained. So I took a cow. Which is fine. Daisy is hardly an unworthy substitute.¡±


    ¡°... Ohohhohohohoho!!¡±


    ¡°Miss, this is not a laughing matter.¡±


    ¡°Ohoho ¡­ ahem, very wrong. This is the most amusing thing I¡¯ve ever heard from a random assailant in my path. I must say, this makes for a wondrous change of pace. Perhaps I¡¯ll even remember you as a blotch in the back of my mind. I offer my gratitude. I thought the mundane traps around me meant this was fated to be a dull experience, but you¡¯ve actually improved it. Just.¡±


    ¡°Then you failed to appreciate art. My traps are not mundane. They are spectacular.¡±


    I stopped laughing at once.


    ¡°Excuse me? These are your traps? Not the bandits?¡±


    ¡°Of course they¡¯re my traps. Lawless brigands have neither discipline nor patience. They can¡¯t do anything as sophisticated as what I¡¯ve made.¡±


    ¡°Sophisticated? ¡­ It¡¯s the same trap over and over again, just with slightly bigger rocks each time!¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± The wight attempted to snap a finger. He failed. ¡°Consistency girl. That¡¯s the trick. Do you know what separates me from other huntsmen? The reason why I was selected to be brought back?¡±


    ¡°Presumably, it¡¯s because of a stark lack of choice.¡±


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s because I¡¯m the best. I¡¯m patient. You might laugh, but so have many others. And now their corpses don¡¯t even remain to be raised. The 5th Law of Huntsmanship is clear, after all. If you drop enough rocks, someone will eventually be hit with a rock.¡±


    I threw up my arms in outrage.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t a law! It¡¯s littering!¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s littering, then so is throwing a spear or shooting an arrow. Just because the projectile is a rock doesn¡¯t make it any more or less legitimate.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not throwing these rocks! You¡¯re dumping them like pianos in Ouzelia ¡­ except they at least have form! Are your poorly made traps meant to distract from the fact you chose a cow as a pet or simply because you lack the dexterity to do better as a zombie?!¡±


    A gasp met my words.


    ¡°... I¡¯m a wight,¡± he said, sounding genuinely hurt. ¡°Not a zombie.¡±


    I rolled my eyes.


    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then you need to fix your posture. It¡¯s worse than the most shambling of undead. Just because your skin looks terrible doesn¡¯t mean your back has to be as well.¡±


    ¡°My back is due to the way I was buried. My coffin had terrible ergonomics. Even so, it doesn¡¯t prevent me from performing my given tasks. My aim is still true.¡±


    ¡°Yes, so long as a cow is there to help you. A shame that its contribution will go to waste. I¡¯ve no idea how long you were lying in wait, but I¡¯m afraid everybody only gets one assassination chance against me. That keeps it fair.¡±


    The wight raised a ¡­ well, he didn¡¯t have a brow. But I could see the ridge bone moving.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to assassinate you.¡±


    ¡°No? What were you doing, then? Greeting me with a spear?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was trying to impale you. But not necessarily assassinate. Besides, I only did it because I mistook you for someone else.¡±


    ¡°... Hm? What was that?¡±


    ¡°I was trying to assassinate someone. Just not you. With that said, you¡¯ve my apologies. I¡¯m tracking another girl. Don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve seen one around?¡±


    I gasped in horror.


    ¡°H-How dare you! ¡­ There is nobody worthy of being assassinated while I¡¯m here!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s the case. But I only agreed to be raised on the condition I¡¯d be released after thoroughly murdering my prey. I can see based on your liveliness that prey isn¡¯t you.¡±


    ¡°That is irrelevant! Why, I¡¯m so beautiful that every envious noblewoman in the kingdom has a price on my head! ¡­ Why wouldn¡¯t you assassinate me?¡±


    The wight shrugged.


    ¡°Maybe in the past, I would¡¯ve,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I care less about earning new crowns now than settling past debts. Grudges only deepen in the grave, after all. Me and Daisy have a very long list of people, their dependents and their every tangible relation to go through. That¡¯s why I¡¯m asking if you¡¯ve seen any other young ladies sharing your build in these woods. I¡¯ve some loose trinkets I can barter for information.¡±


    I almost fainted.


    First attempting to murder me. Then apologising badly. Then attempting to bribe me with whatever bits of grave fungus were in his pockets. Even from an undead commoner, this was a new low.


    ¡°... Why, I have never been so insulted! I¡¯m worth far more than any random maiden skipping in the woods! It¡¯s beyond disgraceful that you¡¯d ask for my own assistance in how to ignore me!¡±


    ¡°Well, if you insist on joining my list, I¡¯m happy to oblige. But your name would still be at the bottom. If you¡¯d like to help me make a start, I¡¯m open to a fair exchange.¡±


    ¡°I am not! I have nothing to offer, least of all to a wight who wishes to seek vengeance with a cow!¡±


    ¡°Like I said, Daisy is my bloodhound.¡±


    I leaned forwards, jabbing my finger towards the least of his crimes. But one he still needed to repair.


    ¡°No, Daisy is a productive member of society. Something you are not. And if farmers see their animals slacking, then so will they. So I will offer you a choice. Return this cow to whichever farm you stole it from and then return yourself to the grave.¡±


    The wight waited.


    ¡°... Yes? And what is the other choice?¡±


    ¡°There is no other choice.¡±


    A moment of silence passed as the wight considered my generous offer. His thumb clicked as it gripped around his spear, the flames in his hollow eyes dipping towards the sword by my side.


    ¡°Hm ¡­ it¡¯s good to know my instincts are still alive,¡± he mused. ¡°It was worth trying to kill you, even if I already suspected you weren¡¯t who I was looking for.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the most polite thing you¡¯ve said. You should have stuck with that. Given that I¡¯m so virtuous that angels recoil, it¡¯s only natural you¡¯d feel the urge to murder me.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I need to. I suppose I could just capture you instead. Given your complexion, I do believe there¡¯s someone who¡¯d mightily enjoy what you¡¯ve to offer.¡±


    ¡°Please. You need to grow scales and wings before you can consider¨C¡±


    ¡°[Paralysing Strike].¡±


    Without waiting for me to voice my relief, the wight turned his spear and struck.


    A horrifying spectacle.


    To interrupt me was the height of uncouthness. But that wasn¡¯t the reason I paled at the sight.


    Instead ¡­ it was due to the way he lifted himself like a rabbit with a broken leg as he lunged.


    Shambling, tired, awkward.


    Like a servant having just climbed up my tower to bring up a single grape only to be told it was the wrong dimensions. As his barbed weapon thrust towards me, it was clear that all the effort had gone into dousing it with whatever noxious liquid was coating the tip.


    Frankly, a murder attempt boasting such fatigued motion was unworthy of even my disdain.


    Were I equally as crass, I¡¯d dismiss him with a simple poke of my sword, allowing the storied enchantments to lay all memories of this needless obstacle to rest.


    ¡­ But I was Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea!


    I could hardly abide poor manners no matter who was serving or attacking me. And while it was too late to save his words, I could perhaps salvage his posture.


    Thus, as the wight lunged with all the elegance of a dancer already tripping over his feet, I offered a professional nod instead as Starlight Grace left my side.


    ¡°Your form is dire, but it¡¯s also nothing I haven¡¯t fixed before ¡­ and so I¡¯ll offer a kindness for you to take back to your grave.¡±


    I sent my sword forwards.


    And then ¡­ turning it just slightly, I used the flat of the blade to begin nudging his posture into place.


    The wight¡¯s flaming eyes widened at once. And for the briefest moment, a look of horror mixed with confusion flashed across his taut face.


    After all¨C


    He¡¯d already realised what such a tiny change in his post-life could accomplish.


    Ohohohohohohoho!


    Here it was! My ultimate ability ¡­ again!


    [Princess Posture]!


    Trained by the unremitting standards of my tutors with an overly long ruler, I could spot and fix any error from my own staff ¡­ or indeed, those belonging to others as well!


    Thus, I went to work, diligently repairing the wight¡¯s form.


    Using my sword as an alignment ruler, I swiftly pushed back his forehead, batted his knees, nudged his elbows, tapped at his shoulders and then whacked his sternum to the sound of his back practically recoiling into place.


    ¡°Ohohohohohohohohoho!¡±


    Indeed, I couldn¡¯t cure him of his undeath ¡­ but I could make him remember a time that he wasn¡¯t prey to whatever dark necromancy clutched onto him!


    With careful, minute nudges of my sword, I worked on his form until he no longer lingered like a leaping ghoul. Instead, his motion became a perfect jump, his arms practically wings as he soared past me like a mockingbird first taking flight ¡­


    And then he landed, eyes wide as his feet found the grass past me. But he neither stumbled nor fell.


    Instead, he continued moving.


    First as a walk, then as a run, his limbs driving him forwards as he burst into a sprint and then a hop. An air of freedom surrounded him as his spear was flung to the wayside, and all I saw of his previously slouching form were shoulders as primed as a receptionist¡¯s behind a desk.


    ¡°Incredible ¡­¡± came his voice, growing steadily distant as he ran into the treeline. ¡°In ¡­ Incredible! Even my knees feel good ¡­ good ¡­ they feel good! This freedom! Oh, oh what free¨C¡±


    Crunch.


    A large rock dropped down, triggered by the snapping of a hemp rope.


    My hands went to my mouth as a plume of unnatural dust rose where the wight had collapsed.


    Crushed beneath his own trap, his legs momentarily wriggled before they fell still. Flesh and skin soon began sizzling like a marriage application tossed into a fire. As the dark magic binding him stuttered and failed, only bones soon remained, half of it shattered beneath the truth of the wight¡¯s claim.


    Nobody ever expected the 19th attempt.


    ¡°Ahahahahh ¡­ ahahahaha ¡­ ahahahahahahah~!¡±


    I groaned at once.


    Replacing the sight of poor posture was instead something worse.


    A certain clockwork doll hanging onto a branch for dear life. She hugged it as she laughed into a sprig of leaves, the tickling against her face only causing her amusement to become steadily louder.


    ¡°C-Coppelia! This is not a time for laughter! I ¡­ I meant to do that!¡±


    ¡°Ahhahahahahahaha~¡±


    I rolled my eyes and waited.


    To my surprise, I didn¡¯t need to wait long.


    She suddenly stopped.


    Just as she threatened to slip off from the branch entirely, she instead hugged it tighter, narrowing her eyes as she looked past me. The act filled me with grief. And so I turned around to witness what had become of the suspicious cow.


    To my horror, I saw that rather than morphing into a monster, it¡¯d simply spawned one instead.


    There, covered in mud beside the cow, was the figure of ¡­ something.


    I didn¡¯t know what it was. Only that it faintly resembled the shape of a girl. And that it was utterly covered in mud, save for a few fingertips which had instead wiped the mud onto the hilt of a strangely shiny sword she was carrying.


    I was mortified.


    ¡°Hello,¡± came a girl¡¯s voice, pausing before extending a palm towards me. One caked in so much sludge that a farmer sleeping in a field couldn¡¯t accrue so much dirt. ¡°Um, please don¡¯t be scared. Or stab me. I¡¯m¨C¡±


    And so I did what any princess would do.


    ¡°¨CHiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!¡±


    I bravely went to join Coppelia up the tree.

 Chapter 364: A Tale In The Making

    The girl wiped her face with a palmful of water from the stream.


    It was like dusting off a chimney. Very little happened.


    Regardless, I did my best to squint as she rose ¡­ from a healthy distance of several steps away. And what I saw was a girl no older than myself.


    Beneath the hint of messy bangs was a smattering of freckles and obvious relief. Combined with a linen dress which remained the colour of mud even after a few splashes had revealed the collar, she was the very picture of a commoner girl.


    If also a comely one.


    Large eyes. A small button nose. And a smile which functioned despite the fact she was still very much covered from head to toe in mud. Exactly the type of maiden constantly bothered by my knights until the girl¡¯s father or the knight¡¯s fianc¨¦ appeared.


    And here she was, terrorising innocent princesses instead.


    ¡°Ah, that feels better!¡± she said, flicking the water from her brows. ¡°Gosh, you¡¯ve no idea how long I¡¯ve been waiting to do that. Feels like I¡¯ve got mud behind my eyeballs after how long I¡¯ve had to look through all that.¡±


    I offered a non-threatening smile so she wouldn¡¯t harm me.


    It was the worst possible combination.


    A commoner, mud and the type of cheerful disposition to not realise this was a problem.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see ¡­ and would dousing oneself in mud happen to be a new fashion trend?¡±


    ¡°Not likely. This is just me dressing practically.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¡­ did a rival hire you to sabotage an important reception, then?¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s true, then I haven¡¯t been paid for it.¡± The girl offered an unassuming smile as she shook her head. ¡°Nah, this is just me hiding from the vampire.¡±


    ¡°¡­ The what now?¡±


    ¡°The vampire.¡±


    ¡°The vampire. As in ¡­ the blood sucking variety?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not sure how many other varieties there are. But yep. That¡¯s the type. It¡¯s a long story. But basically, I got kidnapped by a vampire, got tied down, escaped, there was a bunch of fire, then I came back and now I¡¯m doing my best to survive. It¡¯s been hectic.¡±


    I nodded. And then I leaned slightly forwards.


    ¡°But are you sure it¡¯s a vampire?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Have you seen one before? There are stray nobility roaming in this area and it¡¯s easy to mistake them for each other.¡±


    ¡°Um, I¡¯ve never seen a vampire before ¡­ or much of nobility, either. But I¡¯m pretty sure this one¡¯s a vampire. He had fangs, pale skin, red eyes ¡­ dressed real pompously, cackled a lot and spoke something big about a nefarious scheme.¡±


    I rolled my hands, indicating for her to continue.


    She paused in thought.


    ¡°He turned into bats too.¡±


    Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my groan.


    It was a vampire. After all, if my nobility could turn into bats, then I¡¯d never see them again. They¡¯d just be playing with the ability all day.


    This was dire news.


    Any insult I made against a vampire was one which could also apply to the Grand Duchess. I was keeping them in reserve. And since I couldn¡¯t use the same insult twice, it meant I now had to come up with personalised ones just for the encounter ahead.


    That was far too much effort for vampire spawn.


    Yes ¡­ the weakest type of vampire available!


    A single glance around the forest made this clear. Aside from the occasional cloud of mist, it lacked all the chief ingredients for any respectably cursed stretch of woodland.


    That¡¯s not to say there was no danger, of course. On the contrary, it meant the worst of the littering was still to come.


    ¡°Yeah, I had the same reaction as you,¡± said the commoner, still chirpy despite her own words. ¡°Except with a lot more screaming. And snot. Not a nice thing to happen during supper with my little brother. And now I can¡¯t even get back to him. There¡¯s too much risk. Both to me and him.¡±


    As she spoke, she beckoned the cow over.


    In a feat betraying her profession, she directed the cow to begin washing away any thoughts of bloodletting that a pile of bones had hoped to impress upon it.


    ¡°I owe you big time,¡± she continued, speaking the words everyone was legally required to say. ¡°That tracker was after me. He was getting close, too. But he couldn''t smell me past the mud. I was planning on getting the jump on him when you showed up. All I can say is I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t need to put my sword through that test.¡±


    I looked at the sword in question, lying on the damp grass beside the stream.


    An unusually shiny sword.


    A curious thing. There was little in the way of embellishment or even fine craftsmanship. It was a sword with a simple, inoffensive design, the same that could be found forged by apprentices and sold by unscrupulous merchants as enchanted heirlooms everywhere.


    Except there was clearly a hint of magic about it. The fact that it drew my attention was proof of that.


    ¡°Your sword would have been wasted,¡± I informed her. ¡°A wight without manners is deserving only of a rock absolutely dropped on purpose. May I ask how you came to be in possession of it? Did you obtain it from the brigands who populate these woods?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I found it in a wheat field.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°It was just there, sticking out of the ground when I was first about to escape the forest.¡±


    My mouth widened in horror.


    People were leaving swords lying in wheat fields?! That was abominable! I did not want to find a sword in my next berry ¨¦clat gateau! The strangler crabs used by assassins were more than enough!


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Weird, right?¡± The girl kneeled down and poked at her sword. ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting to find this thing while running, that¡¯s for sure. But I¡¯m glad I did. It woke me up. Next thing I did was head straight back into the woods. I¡¯ve been doing my best to be a nuisance to the bandits while finding something to help me kill the vampire before it does more ¡­ you know, vampire stuff. But that was before I met you. I can¡¯t tell you how happy I am. So listen, I have something important to¨C¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡± I held up my hand. ¡°Repeat what you just said.¡±


    ¡°... Hm? Which bit? About the vampire?¡±


    ¡°No. About you. You mentioned a younger brother. What about your mother and father?¡±


    I received a look of puzzlement.


    ¡°My parents? Well, they already went the way of the double horned unicorn. But, uh, not because of poaching. I never knew them. Granny found me on the farm and raised me. How come?¡±


    I blinked at the girl.


    A farm girl.


    A peppy farm girl.


    An orphaned, peppy farm girl. Who found a sword lying in the ground. And who now faced a foe she couldn¡¯t possibly defeat but would still brave regardless.


    Suddenly, all thoughts of vampires were punted from my mind like fruit slimes during morning calisthenics.


    I stepped back instead, both hands covering my mouth.


    This girl ¡­


    Everything about her, from her looks to her very presence ¡­ was a recipe for a heroine.


    I turned at once to Coppelia for confirmation.


    To my horror, stars shone in her eyes, her hands clasped together and a smile filling her face as she looked at a source of future entertainment.


    Oh no.


    It was her.


    The doom of my kingdom.


    ¡°O-Ohoho ¡­ ?! Y-You poor thing! You must be so frightened! H-How brave you¡¯ve been to escape the hideous clutches of a dreaded vampire! Here, let¡¯s tidy you up! I¡¯ve ¡­ I¡¯ve a handkerchief sewn by a royal seamstress! I¡¯m told the royal family offers them to all its citizens! It¡¯s so luxurious it can wipe away both mud and work-related stress and ¡­ oh my¨CI just realised I don¡¯t even know your name!¡±


    The girl leaned away slightly, clearly overwhelmed by how soft my handkerchief suddenly dabbing away at her cheeks was.


    ¡°Uh ¡­ I¡¯m Milly.¡±


    ¡°Milly! Why, that is such a ¡­ an outrageously normal name.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. Granny gave it to me.¡±


    ¡°And what a delightful person Granny is! Why, I¡¯m certain that as a distinguished member of society, she must have spoken adoringly about all the public infrastructure projects the royal family has built over the years!¡±


    ¡°Well ¡­ no, she doesn¡¯t talk about stuff like that. Except to complain.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And that¡¯s how you know she¡¯s satisfied!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°Only those who are truly content are able to complain! It¡¯s the right of all to constantly seek higher standards. And that is something the kingdom welcomes. Were this Granholtz, then the Grand Duchess would have your poor grandmother in chains. But here, complaints are thoroughly abided!¡±


    ¡°I mean, even if they¡¯re abided, it doesn¡¯t always feel like they¡¯re listened to and¨C¡±


    ¡°Ohohoho?! That¡¯s because the kingdom strives hard to improve every corner and bedroom tower! Although you may not see the changes around you, I can personally guarantee they occur!¡±


    ¡°Um ¡­ is that so ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I¡¯m certain your dear grandmother would have no wish for anyone to jeopardise her constantly improving way of life ¡­ and that includes by accidentally swinging your sword in a direction others might perceive to be towards, say ¡­ Reitzlake Castle or the Royal Villa.¡±


    The girl blinked at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to happen.¡±


    ¡°Truly?¡± I clapped my hands in delight. ¡°My, that¡¯s wonderful!!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I mean, I¡¯m just going to sell this sword. Or maybe just put it back into the ground.¡±


    ¡°Hm? You¡¯ll do ¡­ what exactly?¡±


    ¡°Well, I was planning on taking down the vampire. But I¡¯m pretty sure that was never going to happen. I couldn¡¯t really even see myself beating the smaller undead guy. And you managed to do it with just a rock. That¡¯s way smarter than me. I was just going to whack him.¡±


    I was bewildered.


    Not because I disagreed with her. But because I didn¡¯t see why that would mean putting her sword back into the dirt. What heroine did that? It was just re-littering!


    And then ¡­ I gasped.


    Why, she no longer saw any reason to wield a sword ¡­ because I¡¯d taken away an important learning experience!


    If she couldn¡¯t gain invaluable confidence by defeating a henchman, then there was no scenario she could possibly defeat the vampire who¡¯d raised him!


    That ¡­ was excellent!


    ¡­  Or was it?


    This was utterly unprecedented.


    No heroine in the making had ever been knocked so thoroughly off the beaten trail ¡­ and yet rather than celebrating, I was filled with a deep sense of apprehension.


    Indeed ¡­ the enemy I knew was better than the one I did not!


    Every peppy farmer with a sword was dangerous ¡­ but the true peril came in not knowing who they were until they were already leading a peasant mob and already scratching the gates!


    If it wasn¡¯t her, it¡¯d be someone else!


    I¡¯d be willfully throwing away my own advantage!


    ¡°W-Wait a moment ¡­¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Before you go burying your sword again, I think it¡¯s worth considering keeping it ¡­ perhaps on a mantelpiece ¡­ to stare at ¡­ from a distance ¡­ after all, swords are dangerous weapons and it would be a terrible blot on your conscience if it were to fall into the wrong hands ¡­¡±


    The girl stared at me.


    I stared at her back. Remembering her face. Especially as that was the only part of her which was clear.


    ¡°Right ¡­ um, I can think about it later. It¡¯s actually not what¡¯s really on my mind right now.¡±


    ¡°Of course! You¡¯re worried about¨C¡±


    ¡°The vampire.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The vampire which I hadn¡¯t forgotten about.¡± I offered a nod, far more confident in handling undead than peppy farm girls my servants would now need to keep an eye on. ¡°In which case, you needn¡¯t worry. As blights whose actions far exceed any excessive tax policies, I will do my duty as a loyal servant of the kingdom.¡±


    A small pause met my declaration, followed by an appreciative smile.


    ¡°Yeah. I figured as much.¡± The girl pointed at the ring disgracing my finger. ¡°... I know what that means. You¡¯re an adventurer.¡±


    Suddenly, Coppelia pointed at me, her frown in stark contrast to my look of horror.


    ¡°Hey! She¡¯s not just an adventurer! ¡­ She¡¯s an S-rank adventurer!¡±


    ¡°C-Coppelia ¡­ ?!¡±


    The commoner gasped. Her eyes widened at my semi-loyal handmaiden¡¯s betrayal.


    ¡°Wow! Really? ¡­ I had no idea! Gosh, I don¡¯t know if that makes me the luckiest unluckiest girl ever. Now it means two incredibly strong people have come to my rescue!¡±


    I temporarily put my grief to one side.


    At least until I spoke to Coppelia regarding the good pillow she somehow always took.


    ¡°... Two?¡± I asked in confusion. ¡°Did a knight accidentally stumble into these woods?¡±


    ¡°Not a knight, no ¡­ but, uh, another vampire. I didn¡¯t just escape. I was rescued. Hard as it is to believe, there¡¯s actually another vampire here. But this one¡¯s good ¡­ I think. Or at least she¡¯s not very imposing. She looks like us. A sort of pale, but normal version of us. A girl. In pyjamas.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡°... What colour pyjamas?¡±


    ¡°Pink.¡±


    And thus¨Cthe image of a young maiden scratching her tummy while reading a romance book fluttered across my mind. One who I¡¯d last sent off to work in the royal library.


    ¡°Really?¡± I was stunned. ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in a cave.¡±


    ¡°... Again?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know about ¡®again¡¯ ¡­ but I put her there.¡±


    ¡°What? Why? Caves are not appropriate places for books. They¡¯re damp and filled with insects.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any books. Just her. I chose it because it¡¯s safe. Or at least safer than nowhere. Once I picked up this sword, I came back to help. Eventually, I found her hanging over a branch. I think there was an explosion.¡±


    I was bewildered.


    Even so, I was relieved to hear that the explosion had apparently already happened. Whatever my librarian was doing, she was doing it as a loyal subject.


    ¡°I see ¡­ ? In that case, please show me this vampire. I have matters of serious conversation to discuss with her. Also¨CI¡¯m certain she can be of assistance.¡±


    The commoner looked awkwardly to the side.


    ¡°Right, um, that¡¯s a problem.¡±


    ¡°Why is it a problem?¡±


    ¡°Well ¡­ I think she¡¯s dead.¡±

 Chapter 365: Secret Technique

    A cave in a forest.


    Small. Damp. Barren.


    Likely once occupied by a bear as well.


    Where it was now, nobody knew. Only that the reason it left was probably because of its new lodger.


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    I stared down at the figure lying before me.


    There she was. A fragile maiden with unblemished skin, silver hair and pink cotton pyjamas.


    Exactly as I¡¯d last seen her. Or at least her back profile.


    Resting upon her tummy, with her arms splayed and face down in the dusty ground, her awkward pose painted the perfect image of someone who¡¯d tripped over their own feet and then never bothered to rise again.


    Thus ¡­ I nodded in acknowledgement.


    Indeed, as I looked upon her lifeless form, it was all I could do but recognise her contribution to the world of drama.


    Were she gracing the stage of the Royal Arc Theatre, I had no doubt that the obligatory apples I threw to test every actor playing dead would go unacknowledged. The way she was simply lying motionless, disregarding even the soil caking her face was highly professional.


    I had no use for such a talent, of course. But I was delighted to know that if she desired a change of occupation, then other avenues existed for her to pursue.


    Moreover ¡­ as far as I was aware, vampires didn¡¯t leave corpses behind when they died.


    Instead, all that remained when they were laid to rest a second time were ashes and broken coffins.


    ¡­ But just in case, I also turned to Coppelia!


    ¡°What do you think ¡­ ?¡± I asked simply.


    My loyal handmaiden kneeled down, her eyes blinking as she closely studied the fallen vampire.


    Then, having learned from my own expert healing techniques, she poked the girl in the cheek.


    No reaction.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Coppelia, nodding as she diligently continued to poke her. ¡°Good news! She¡¯s not dead. I think.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s a relief. Do you feel a reaction to your poking?¡±


    ¡°Nope. I just think it¡¯s fun.¡±


    I nodded. That was understandable.


    ¡°Is she asleep, then? ¡­ Because if so, we¡¯ll need to bring her outside where I can conjure the bed. A pile of dirt is hardly appropriate for a maiden to get her beauty sleep, despite how much the baronesses swear by it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s sleeping, either. Otherwise she definitely would have started groaning to my pokes by now. Usually you do it after the 3rd one.¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me!? Why are you poking me when I¡¯m asleep?!¡±


    ¡°I mean, when you sleep, you sometimes stuff your face in the pillow just like how vampire girl looks now. Once you haven¡¯t moved for several hours, I sometimes poke you to see if you¡¯re still alive.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see.¡± I thought for a moment. ¡°In that case, thank you. Also, you may poke me earlier.¡±


    ¡°Will do~!¡±


    I nodded at Coppelia¡¯s diligence, then kneeled down to join her in poking my librarian¡¯s cheek.


    To my regret, but not surprise, my healing touch wasn¡¯t working on her. It was only natural. My angelic nature had little effect on a vampire other than to leave a faint dimple.


    ¡°Hmm. How peculiar. If she¡¯s neither dead nor sleeping, then what is she doing? Is she injured?¡±


    Coppelia picked the girl up by the scuff of the neck as though she were a lazing tabby cat.


    She peered underneath her.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see any injuries. Although it could be something inside her.¡±


    ¡°How curious ¡­ do vampires suffer illnesses?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s one of the perks of being a vampire. They pretty much repel every disease back towards where it came from. With blood sucking interest. Except maybe not this one. Her vampiric presence is so weak that even when I¡¯m poking her, I can barely feel it.¡±


    My hands clapped together in understanding.


    ¡°I see! My, how very adept of her! Her self defence mechanism is to evade all unwanted attention from nobility after her rare title by appearing even more pitiable than when we last saw her. That is ¡­ well, that is somewhat remarkable. I admit, I didn¡¯t think such a thing was possible.¡±


    Behind us, a village girl with a sword looked over from the opening of the cave.


    She was joined by a cow she was petting, who having been removed from the blood stained grass now appeared slightly less hungry than before.


    I wasn¡¯t certain which of the two I found more concerning.


    ¡°Um ¡­ by any chance, would you happen to already know each other?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Indeed, we do,¡± I answered. ¡°Although this kingdom is large, the world is small.¡±


    The farm girl paused.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to make sense. It only needs to be fair. But as glad as I am for our ample farmlands, it does mean they¡¯re all too often allowed to go unattended. Therefore, I ask that you return home to assume your life as a common farmer and absolutely nobody else. You may also take the cow.¡±


    ¡°Huh? You want me and Daisy to leg it?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t nod fast enough.


    Frankly, I hadn¡¯t a clue what this girl was going to get up to. All I knew was that the further she was away from accidentally slaying a vampire, the less likely she was to wield that sword for anything other than appropriate things.


    Such as gardening.


    ¡°Your assistance has been much appreciated. Especially with taming the cow. However, I cannot have village girls wandering behind me while carrying suspect swords found in the mud. That¡¯s a highly dangerous combination.¡±


    The girl blinked.


    She looked between the shiny sword attached to her hand and the cow beside her. Two starkly different career paths. Only one of which was beneficial to my family.


    ¡°It sounds like I¡¯ll be in the way,¡± she said, giving her sword a random jiggle. ¡°Which I 100% agree with. But I think I¡¯d feel bad about running away again. Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to, uh, lure out the vampire or something? ¡­ Because I think I can do that. As bait or something.¡±


    I was aghast.


    That was an incredibly ¡­ heroine thing to say! I had to avoid it at all costs!


    ¡°O-Ohohoho ¡­ that¡¯s ¡­ that¡¯s not necessary in the slightest! Like my loyal handmaiden said, I¡¯m ¡­¡±


    ¡°¨CAn S-rank adventurer!¡±


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m a beautiful maiden blessed with a genius mind, a radiant aura and an unblemished smile. And I only require one of these to do away with a vampire who cannot put their immortality to practical use. Such as being a sleepless employee.¡±


    The commoner blinked at me, a dozen questions regarding my natural talents obviously flickering across her mind.


    Even so, her lips remained tactfully closed.


    I was impressed. She might be a farmer, but she already possessed more wit than any of my nobility ever displayed. Were she not so perilous to my kingdom, I¡¯d promote her on the spot.


    ¡°... Will she be okay?¡± she asked instead, pointing towards my collapsed librarian.


    ¡°Of course. This maiden might be a vampire, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve no means to rouse her.¡±


    ¡°Really? Will you use magic?¡±


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ no.¡± I offered a confident smile, hand upon my chest. ¡°I shall use a secret technique carefully honed over the years. With it, I¡¯m able to cure even the harshest of debilities. However, know that I absolutely cannot permit you to see such a forbidden thing.¡±


    An appropriate look of astonishment came across the girl¡¯s face.


    A moment later, she allowed her shoulders to fall with relief, knowing that I was now here to rescue her from a life of revolution. Perhaps if she was luckier, she¡¯d even return to her farm to find a newly made road where her barn used to be.


    ¡°... All right, Daisy! You heard the nice lady. Let¡¯s try to find your home, okay?¡±


    The cow looked up with a swish of its tail. It offered no complaint while being ushered away from the cave.


    Then, just before the commoner scooted out of sight of the entrance, she turned to offer a smile which still bore a few hints of mud.


    ¡°Thanks, Miss Adventurer,¡± she said brightly. ¡°I¡¯ll definitely remember this!¡±


    And with that, she was gone.


    For now.


    I waited until the sounds of her voice chatting with the cow faded. And then I waited a bit more. Once nothing could be heard but the mild breeze whispering into the cave, I nodded with satisfaction.


    Indeed, today was already a good day!


    I¡¯d practically averted calamity!


    There was still the matter of my drunken peasants, of course. Sooner or later, the alcohol numbing their ire would be spent. But so long as they were shorn of their natural leader, then all was well.


    But only if I didn¡¯t falter now.


    Thus¨CI returned my attention to my newest librarian.


    Lifeless, motionless and sprawled upon the floor, it was clear that this was no common ailment she suffered from. And while she was hardly the most terrifying vampire to have walked the shadows, the fact still remained that few things could easily wear her down more than the epilogue of A Summer Knight¡¯s Dream, Book 3.


    ¡­ Fortunately, this was nothing I couldn¡¯t fix!


    ¡°Coppelia.¡±


    ¡°Mmh~?¡±


    ¡°I require a macaron.¡±


    I nodded in seriousness ¡­ then held out my palm.


    Coppelia blinked.


    Then, she swiftly rummaged through her pouch of knick-knacks and emergency snacks, before finding me a sugary, stale and somewhat off-colour macaron.


    This would do.


    I leaned in and slid my palm beneath the face of the fallen maiden. A small bump of resistance greeted me as I pressed the macaron against the girl¡¯s lips.


    And then¨C


    ¡°Nngh ¡­ om .. nom ¡­¡±


    She began to stir while nibbling on the snack.


    Ohohohohohohohoho!


    I smiled in triumph.


    Indeed, why did it matter if a vampire was in a state which could baffle the most learned of clerics?


    I was an expert in the field of healing those in a state far worse than this!


    Namely ¡­ my older sister!


    Yes! I¡¯d brought back Clarise from the brink more times than I could count! When she failed to show up to dinner for the 3rd consecutive night in a row, it was all too often I inquired at her observatory only to find a mere shell whose existence was clinging onto the last tether!


    ¡°Uwaaah~ I can¡¯t believe that worked.¡±


    ¡°Ohohohohoho! Behold! The light which only a dose of sugar can provide! ¡­ When all else fails, remember this¨Csnacks are more than an indulgence! To fragile maidens, they are the lifeblood which runs deeper than our hearts! They feed the very soul!¡±


    Coppelia nodded enthusiastically.


    I was delighted. Should worse come to worst, she could bring me back from any witch¡¯s curse through a well-placed cupcake!


    Perhaps not the ones she kept in her pouch, true ¡­ but once we were done with this affair, every bakery and cr¨ºpe stall would be open for business once again!


    And so¨Cwe watched as Miriam Estroux, countess, librarian and vampire, with all the noble station afforded to her ¡­ slowly rolled onto her back like a small animal righting herself.


    Her eyes opened to an air more suitable for a tired ghost than a macabre creature of the night used to rising from a coffin to terrorise the innocents.


    In fact, she didn¡¯t rise at all.


    She simply remained on her back, blinking up at the ceiling.


    Coppelia helpfully waved her hand.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Miriam, finally noticing us right beside her. She blinked several more times. ¡°... How many years has it been?¡±


    ¡°572 years,¡± replied Coppelia. ¡°Everyone you know is gone.¡±


    ¡°Really? ¡­ That¡¯s odd. You both have very strong and familiar features.¡±


    ¡°My frown has descended through centuries,¡± I informed her. ¡°It will never falter or tarnish, no matter how many more will pass.¡±


    Miriam nodded.


    ¡°... Has it actually been 572 years?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Oh. That explains why my arms don¡¯t want to move. I normally feel less tired after my naps.¡±


    ¡°And what could have driven you to such a desperate nap? ¡­ Why, there¡¯s not even a pillow! If you¡¯d napped any longer, you¡¯d have woken up shaped like a wight!¡±


    Miriam looked up in thought.


    ¡°Everything exploded.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I drew holy runes into the ground. It was very volatile. Likely because the heavens look poorly on vampires appropriating their sacred symbols. I don¡¯t think it was my best idea.¡±


    I was stunned.


    ¡°You drew holy runes? ¡­ And it caused the heavens to create an explosion? That is wonderful! Can you do it again? They¡¯ve long since become accustomed to seeing their chapels burgled.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I could. But not if I can help it. Honestly, it¡¯s not a very pleasant experience.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see. Then why would you do it?¡±


    ¡°To defeat Master Harkus.¡±


    ¡°... Who?¡±


    ¡°Master Harkus. He is a vampire. Specifically, the one who turned me into a vampire.¡±


    I blinked as a name was finally revealed ¡­ and also instantly forgotten.


    ¡°Truly? Why, I had no idea you were acquainted with this ruffian! Did you know he was here?¡±


    ¡°No. I only found out accidentally. Or so I thought. He has returned to this kingdom. I¡¯m told it¡¯s because he views my actions as a book hermit to not be in keeping with his traditional values as a scion of the night and ruler of the shadows. He believes it reflects poorly upon him.¡±


    I let out a shocked gasp.


    ¡°That¡¯s a scandalous belief to hold! There¡¯s nothing more regal than studying the learned writings of our peers from underneath a duvet where nobody can see what books we¡¯re actually reading!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I quite agree.¡±


    Miriam paused. A look of regret crept across her face.


    ¡°... I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, turning slightly away as much as she could. ¡°This isn¡¯t quite what I¡¯d planned. I had no intention of troubling you. Were I aware that Master Harkus would seek me out, I would not have lingered, nor allowed myself to take up your generosity.¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And what generosity do you refer to?¡±


    ¡°You allowed me a home where everybody is apologetic whenever they eat using a silver spoon in my presence. To become a librarian.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Yes, Countess Miriam Estroux. A librarian. And it is the job of a librarian to both read and catalogue books. Not to spare a thought for those so crass they¡¯d seek to disturb you from this important role. Rest assured, I shall not permit this spawn as lacking in ability as manners to chastise you, much less actively impede you. I will do away with him in a manner which befits his status as a pest.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°You wish to destroy Master Harkus?¡±


    ¡°No, I wish to roll my face in a pillow until the dent can be seen on the other side. But failing that, I¡¯ll accept offering the ashes of a gnat I can direct the complaint of my every farmer towards. This spawn has been busy inciting rebellion.¡±


    ¡°I see. That does sound very much like the sort of thing he would do. And so there¡¯s something I believe I should clarify before we continue this conversation. Master Harkus is not a spawn. He is a master vampire, cited to rise to the Nocturne Court. He is very powerful, very old and functionally immune to all normal attacks.¡±


    Miriam tried craning her face away more.


    This time, not out of regret, but with a tinge of embarrassment.


    ¡°... Um, not like me. Please do not use me as a reference.¡±


    I leaned slightly over her, my raised eyebrow bringing her gaze back.


    ¡°And as I said¨Ca spawn.¡±


    ¡°Master Harkus is¨C¡±


    ¡°An ascended flea. One who was bested by holy magic from an emaciated vampire, as your continued existence proves.¡±


    ¡°Rather than bested, I believe it would be more appropriate to say that he was so insulted by my attack that he was rendered unable to move. I don¡¯t think it will happen again. Which is a problem. You really do need holy magic to defeat a vampire. I¡¯m uncertain if your enchanted steel sword is enough. You will need a consecrated silver sword ¡­ or, well, sunlight, but in practice, that never kills vampires.¡±


    ¡°Oh? ¡­ And why is that?¡±


    Miriam shifted slightly, as though just the thought of it was enough to cause her to retreat.


    ¡°It¡¯s our most fatal weakness,¡± she said simply. ¡°As a result, no vampire ever allows themselves to be caught in a position where the sun is still overhead. Even Master Harkus would wait until nightfall before revealing himself.¡±


    I nodded.


    And then I stood up, before turning on my heel to head to my next destination. A deportation meeting with an unwanted leech.


    ¡°¡­ Is that so? In that case, I fail to see what the issue is.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    I noted the darkening light outside the cave. Dusk was here, and night was soon to follow.


    But that hardly mattered.


    After all¨C


    My smile was brighter than the sun.

 Chapter 366: A Royal Awakening

    I led the way, Starlight Grace in hand.


    It made little difference.


    Despite starlight grace¡¯s illuminating glare, it pierced the unnatural fog only as much as a dessert fork into a 14 layer cake likely down to just its 10th layer depending on how many of the new hires still needed to display their endurance.


    It¡¯d come suddenly and without warning. A white barrier so thick that the trees were now my worst nemesis, each dipping branch and wayward root trying to make up for the lack of effort in breaking my ankles earlier.


    And yet my reward for navigating it was an even less welcome foe.


    A squatting vampire whose very malice bled into the air I now breathed.


    Unseen crows laughed from their branches. Shadows flickered like stalking silhouettes. And despite the presence of the warming dusk somewhere lost overhead, all I could feel was a chill seeping into my skin, tickling the back of my neck.


    Something ominous was waiting ¡­ watching.


    And that meant I had only one concern on my mind.


    ¡°You¡¯re expanding the library ¡­ ?¡±


    Yes.


    I was utterly shocked.


    Beside me, my newly hired librarian nodded from beneath her conjured umbrella of ice.


    Despite the fog being thick enough to absorb the dipping rays of sunlight, she wisely chose to take no chances with whatever magic another vampire had chosen to summon.


    ¡°The details are still being decided,¡± said Miriam. ¡°I confess this isn¡¯t my forte. Until now, I¡¯ve been able to chisel out my own libraries from existing spaces. Actually building a library is quite daunting, even if it¡¯s just additional wings. However, I¡¯ve done my best to ensure it remains on budget.¡±


    I nodded, knowing full well the difficulties of working within a budget.


    After all, I had to keep firing stewards until one said yes.


    ¡°I see ¡­ that is, well, pleasantly surprising. The Royal Villa is no stranger to being expanded, of course. But this is usually in relation to my father¡¯s camembert cellar.¡±


    ¡°I believe the king also approved widening the camembert cellar, yes. But not before agreeing to my suggestion to expand the library. I believe he was already considering it, given the issues regarding the lack of space.¡±


    ¡°The lack of space?¡±


    I blinked in puzzlement.


    As far as I could recall, the shelves were not necessarily bursting at the seams.


    But then again, I paid them little heed, knowing they contained only the study materials my tutors struggled to find when they mysteriously went missing just before our lessons ¡­ or the poetry anthologies which wouldn''t go missing even when they were mysteriously tossed in a lake filled with blood piranhas.


    ¡°The library has no dedicated staff other than myself, but the stewards have kept an organised catalogue. It matches what I see. Most of the shelves are full. However, since I¡¯ll soon be requiring room for new titles, I felt that adding additional shelves was the only practical solution.¡±


    ¡°My, that¡¯s very proactive of you! Thank you for your efforts. Although by any chance ¡­ did you also suggest removing some books as well?¡±


    ¡°Removing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Those with neither historical nor artistic worth. Such as poetry books written at such a young age that they contain words which don¡¯t quite fully rhyme. Or indeed, exist in any dictionary.¡±


    ¡°Oh! In that case, I did mention that the poetry books took up 54% of the library¡¯s shelves. But the king didn¡¯t see this as an issue. Rather, he was happy to expand the library so that he could have space for transcriptions of every existing work. He wants them preserved for future generations.¡±


    Hmm.


    How odd.


    I didn¡¯t realise my spine could shudder like that.


    ¡°I ¡­ I see.¡± I offered a bright smile. ¡°As expected, my father is not so easily defeated.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°However, please rest assured that one way or another, there will be additional shelf space. I¡¯ve a literary connoisseur who will shortly help collect some of the poetry anthologies.¡±


    ¡°Really? Who is it?¡±


    ¡°The big guy~¡± said Coppelia, suddenly appearing as she hung upside down from a branch. ¡°He¡¯s a dragon.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    ¡°A dragon?¡±


    ¡°Mmh! She conned him into borrowing some of the poetry books so I could lounge here longer.¡±


    ¡°E-Excuse me!¡± My mouth widened. ¡°You are not lounging here! You are my loyal handmaiden, whose duties may be different, but no less important than that of the countess¡¯s!¡±


    ¡°¡­ You¡¯re not denying you conned him, huh?¡±


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


    ¡°Ohohohoho! A dragon is a lawful entity! He has sealed his doom! If he wants to rid himself of them, he will have to pay me a hefty bribe!¡±


    ¡°Uwaaah~ extorting a dragon. That¡¯s always worked well.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. As creatures bound by contracts, they must accept whatever fate is agreed by their own words.¡±


    Miriam listened with a stunned expression.


    For a moment, her lips parted as the first of many questions tried to escape. They closed a moment later as she wisely accepted ignorance instead.


    ¡°Oh, okay,¡± she said, looking up in thought. ¡°A dragon will collect some of the poetry books. That¡¯s a little bit terrifying. But also a relief. I feared that I¡¯d underestimated the amount of space I require.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like you intend to make ample use of the library. May I ask what you hope to include that necessitates an expansion?¡±


    Miriam offered me a look of utmost seriousness. She raised her umbrella to reveal her brows.


    ¡°Work of culture.¡±


    She fell silent. As did I.


    Instead, through the sign language only learned by those who studied the same subject of impropriety secrets and scandal, an entire conversation passed through our eyes alone.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I nodded. She nodded.


    ¡°You have done well,¡± I said simply.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Miriam smiled. ¡°I intend to make the library representative of the kingdom¡¯s taste in literature, including both fiction and non-fiction. It will be a place to celebrate all the greatest works admired by commoners and nobility alike.¡±


    ¡°That is a truly worthy ambition. I believe it is only fitting that we in positions of privilege never lose sight of the common bond which holds us all together¨Cthat of tales spoken in whispered tones. With that said, I worry about the consequences of the library¡¯s increased popularity. I wonder if there will be space to quietly read without disturbing others ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°There will be a private room hidden by a mirror door. Only we shall know of it.¡±


    I clapped my hands in delight.


    ¡°M-My!! How wonderful! ¡­ Of course, discretion is important. If my maids and tutors wished to indulge in the new works, I would never wish to make them feel uncomfortable by being concerned with formality over my presence.¡±


    ¡°There will be a wide variety of popular gateway works,¡± said Miriam with a fervent nod. ¡°I¡¯ve already placed a significant number of orders with the funds I¡¯ve been allocated. In addition, I also search for individual books using my own personal network. It was actually how I came to be here.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what book is it that drew you away from the library?¡±


    ¡°The Icy Duke''s Heart Melts To A Forbidden Flame. The original manuscript.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°Truly? That ¡­ that scandalous book which I have never once read? Did ¡­ Did you find it?¡±


    ¡°I did, yes. My maid has it ¡­ I think. She comes and goes. But I believe it¡¯s currently in her possession.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± I nodded, my excitement slowly fading. ¡°That doesn''t sound at all reassuring ¡­ ?¡±


    ¡°You needn¡¯t fear. She is reliable, especially in times of crisis. I¡¯m deeply indebted to her¨Cas I am with you as well. Although I understand I¡¯ve been employed to do a job, I admit that I¡¯m also greatly enjoying my present life. It is fun.¡±


    I offered my finest princess smile.


    ¡°Ohohoho ¡­ that makes me very pleased. You needn¡¯t change in that regard. There¡¯s a reason I order every servant to be happy. Joy equals productivity.¡±


    Then, I flickered away a puff of fog attacking my nose.


    ¡°... Indeed, which is all the more reason to dispose of those who¡¯d stand in the way of your new found contentment¨Cproviding we can find them. Are you quite certain this is the right way? I notice we seem to be walking in one direction.¡±


    Miriam nodded, her expression turning serious once again as she looked ahead.


    ¡°Walking in one direction is all we need. The fog doesn¡¯t extend that far. But to those without an invitation, they will never find the exit. However, I¡¯ve no reason to believe my invitation to Master Harkus¡¯s abode has been rescinded. We should be there soon.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. And what are we expecting from this particular vampire¡¯s lair, then? A darkened castle teeming with bats and sanguine windows straight from a brochure?¡±


    ¡°Um, it¡¯s not a castle, no. It¡¯s actually a manor.¡±


    ¡°A manor? ¡­ Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, although I¡¯m not an expert, I believe most vampires don''t actually own their own castles. They¡¯re quite conspicuous.¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother hiding my groan.


    All this effort to use my own two feet and not even a darkened castle to use as reference for my goblin foreman to know exactly what not to build on Soap Island.


    ¡°Is it at least a particularly evil looking manor?¡± I asked hopefully.


    ¡°I would say so, yes. Or rather, it was.¡±


    ¡°It was?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s, well, it might be gone now ¡­¡±


    A moment of silence passed.


    ¡°Did you blow it up?¡± I asked, blinking.


    ¡°No, I set it on fire.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Coppelia, dropping down from the branches at last. ¡°She¡¯s just like us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s patently untrue. We¡¯ve never set anything on fire.¡± I paused as I went through my memories. ¡°... Deliberately.¡±


    Coppelia giggled. I hardly saw why. Any evidence we¡¯d inadvertently caused the occasional tower or vault to spontaneously ignite was also destroyed in the process.


    And if the master rodent was fortunate, that list would also include his lair.


    Thus¨Cwe continued onwards, trundling through the unnatural fog.


    Eventually, the white barrier thinned along with the oaks attempting to headbutt our faces and the silhouette of our destination revealed itself. Yet far from the sight of even a slightly evil manor to roll my eyes at, what appeared before my innocent eyes was instead a squatter¡¯s dream paradise.


    There, beyond a line of trees, was the clear remains of a hovel.


    A hazy dusk hovered over the shell of a building made prettier by whatever flames had recently engulfed it. Every window and doorway was a peek into rooms furnished by ashes, while the rooftop was a chasm entirely.


    Here and there, shafts of timber so charred that even the flames had turned their nose away had crashed through an entire section of the wall, revealing a gallery of portraits now boasting images of the barren wall they hanged upon.


    All except for one.


    Pwam. Pwam. Pwam.


    A new portrait as colourful as a rainbow.


    And it was being hammered into place against the least scorched part of the wall by a ruffian covered in a layer of sweat.


    Amidst the ruins of a vampire¡¯s illegal abode, hoodlums no different from those learning to harvest wheat were diligently hard at work.


    However, while this would normally mean pillaging the burned hovel to its last melted spoon, they were instead sweeping up the ashes with brooms, replanting ceiling beams and lifting away the burned furniture.


    I took a step back, Starlight Grace lowering by my side as I looked on in shock.


    ¡°... Is this the vampire¡¯s lair?¡±


    Miriam nodded from beneath her umbrella.


    She stayed within the fog, but shared the same look of discomfort I did


    ¡°It is, yes ¡­ a foulness corrupts the very air. I regret that I was unable to see it burned to its foundations.¡±


    ¡°Being burned to its foundations would have been worse. It¡¯d mean that whatever replaced it would look even more ghastly.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    I pointed at a stack of tables and cabinets sitting upon the grass.


    Each was clearly waiting to be carried into the hovel. Furniture that had been plundered from different barns, with few sharing the same size, colour or workmanship. The only similarity was the lack of varnish and care over their condition.


    ¡°2.5/10,¡± I declared. ¡°Why ¡­ I can scarcely believe the disrespect on display! You went through the effort of doing away with whatever mould was feeding upon the walls, and this squatter responds by refilling the open space with mismatching furniture!¡±


    Indeed, I was utterly incensed!


    If my librarian decided to take a moment from her busy schedule expanding the Royal Villa, then I didn¡¯t expect such charity to be repaid through hiring command brigands as decorators!


    ¡°Oh.¡± Miriam blinked as she dared to lean a few inches forwards. ¡°You¡¯re right. The wardrobes do rather stick out against all the ash and burned walls, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They do more than stick out. This is a betrayal of expectations. Here I was, wondering what scheme would require any self-respecting vampire to require the use of forest bandits as goons ¡­ and it turns out that they were simply the ones with the most agreeable pricing options!¡±


    ¡°In that case, I believe Master Harkus must have negotiated a very favourable bargain. These men have had their minds dominated.¡±


    I threw up my arms in disbelief.


    ¡°... So why would he choose these? Why not an interior designer? Why not a child tasked with matching the same two colours?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely certain. But while Master Harkus has always been frivolous, he has never been aimless. I fear there¡¯s a deliberate reason for this.¡±


    ¡°Incorrect. There is no reason for a lack of standards. And a vampire who¡¯s lived long enough to know this has even fewer causes to disregard it. Now, where can I find this master of hoodlums?¡±


    ¡°Um ¡­ well, given the exorbitant amounts of darkness I can see lifting from the manor, I believe he likely has a crypt below.¡±


    ¡°I agree with vampire girl,¡± said Coppelia, her neck craning as she blinked at the orange sky. ¡°You can¡¯t see it, but it¡¯s like a cloud of evil. It¡¯s amazing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no doubt it is. It takes a true scoundrel to keep a royal entourage waiting while he loiters in a crypt. The fact he isn¡¯t here to welcome us with a dramatic speech is his worst crime yet.¡±


    Miriam shook her head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe he¡¯ll offer such a pleasantry. Not while the last light still lingers. He¡¯s likely still resting. Although we can go many nights without sleep, most higher vampires choose to actively treat the daylight hours with disdain.¡±


    I clapped my hands together and smiled.


    ¡°Is that so? ¡­ Then it seems we¡¯ll need to remind this vampire of his responsibilities as a host.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I agree.¡± Miriam paused ¡°¡­ Out of curiosity, what does that actually involve?¡±


    I offered my warmest smile.


    ¡°Ohohohoho ¡­ why, that¡¯s simple. I intend to wake the dead.¡±


    Miriam blinked.


    She looked at Coppelia as she began stretching her legs. Then at me as I began stretching my arms.


    A moment later¨Cshe let out a tiny groan.

 Chapter 367: Requiem In Scarlet

    Master Harkus of Revarin was 857 years old.


    He was practically in the spring of his unlife. Others might disagree, of course. But others were also dead. As a vampire, he outlived them all. And if they were fortunate, it wasn¡¯t simply because he murdered them. Although that did frequently happen.


    Because for all the things vampires were, open to criticism was not one of them.


    A vampire¡¯s pride was a thing more delicate than the windows of any cathedral. Yet rather than a weakness, it was their greatest strength.


    In order to stand atop the hierarchy of the world, it was also necessary to act the part.


    To be as regal as the moon upon its throne of night, accepting neither argument nor judgement from any creature or thing which could dare utter a word in their presence.


    With one exception.


    Other vampires.


    Despite all the creatures which wandered above and below the surface, vampires were the only peers they themselves accepted. Not even dragons were worthy of such an accolade. For all their legend, they still fell prey to the allure of gold. That made them little more than magpies with larger tails.


    But those blessed with the Sanguine Gift didn¡¯t need crowns.


    They didn¡¯t even need blood.


    A vampire never needed to lower themselves like a beggar collecting scraps for alms. They required nothing to survive. Yet although starvation would never find them, that didn¡¯t mean they never hungered. It simply wasn¡¯t a warm meal they craved.


    Instead ¡­ they cared only for the cacophony of the Oldest Dance.


    They coined it, long before lords, dukes and kings opted to steal it to describe their own petty acts of mischief. Because where humans skidded, stumbled and coughed in hope of tripping a single heel, vampires swept away the carpet and all upon it.


    And what they revealed as the walls came crashing down was a tapestry of scheming.


    A web so tangled that few could know where one plot ended and another began.


    It was the great masquerade. The unending game. A pathway to recognition.


    After all, vampires respected nothing if not wholesale destruction using the least possible effort. And in this, Master Harkus was well ahead of his rivals.


    His exploits in the Rozinthe Imperium was proof of that.


    Back when the Grand Duchy of Granholtz was greater in name than in territory, it was the finest empire the continent had ever known. Whether it was the height of midday or the small hours of the night, its grand plazas teemed with opportunity.


    There were markets flush with coins minted that very morning. Basilicas housing the wise and the foolish. Amphitheatres with more songs than there were ears to accommodate the endless talent.


    It was the centre of civilisation, overlooked by the shadows of mage towers an empress sat imposingly upon her throne like a statue come to life. A land of prosperity, risen to the sound of trumpets, marching boots and endless victory.


    ¡­ And it had all crumbled to a single whisper.


    That was the night of nights. As an empire slept, a plague awoke. And all it took was ridding the streets of the damnable cats which gnawed ceaselessly upon his robes.


    Because while humans knew fear, felines apparently did not.


    Master Harkus never included that point. But he had no need to.


    His curated version was a tale which left his audience mesmerised greater than any [Dominate Will] could achieve. And so he obliged like the gentleman he was, ensuring that every ear could listen and every voice pay tribute as he repeated his expert narration again and again ¡­ until eventually, for the very first time¨C


    Clink


    A glass came down, lightly echoing around the crypt.


    ¡°Master Harkus,¡± said the bewitching lady opposite his table. ¡°Your triumph over the Rozinthe Imperium was a truly monumental affair.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mistress Katarine. In which case, allow me to provide more details about¨C¡±


    ¡°And because it was so magnificent, I¡¯m certain Lord Nosferatu is pleased with your success. However, as our patron god is no doubt omniscient and therefore always listening, I believe it¡¯s best not to offer him a tale he¡¯s already heard before. Too many times. In the past hour alone.¡±


    Beside her, the only man whose powdered wig was more glossy than his swirled his glass of oak matured blood. He gave it a sip, then deliberately lowered his glass down as well.


    ¡°I agree with the good mistress,¡± he said, idly gazing at his surroundings. ¡°We all enjoy a fair boast at this table. Yet it¡¯d simply be a waste if such a compelling tale was told so often that our spawns hear it before they¡¯re even made. They should hear it directly from the vampire himself.¡±


    Master Harkus offered a small chuckle ¡­ all the while planning which order their heads would roll into his coffin. It was the hardest decision he¡¯d ever made.


    Mistress Katarine of Renigall and Master Florian of Astra.


    Both wore a smile of envy as red as the blood they¡¯d wasted upon their lips.


    How the two pretenders had crawled their way into the Nocturne Court, he would never know. All he knew was that one was required to die for their seat to be vacant.


    In true vampire spirit, he¡¯d need to wait for another to arrive so he could murder at least three.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± he said in a jovial tone. ¡°It¡¯s so rare to be visited by such esteemed members of the Nocturne Court. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve little to offer in terms of refreshments. But in words of entertainment, I have plenty.¡±


    ¡°So you do,¡± said Master Florian with a nod. ¡°But rest assured, we haven¡¯t come to monopolise either. Not when greater refreshments and a larger audience is waiting to greet you. We came to inform you that the Nocturne Court has convened and made a decision.¡±


    Master Harkus paused, the button beneath the table ready to accidentally guillotine their heads instead of calling for more drinks untouched for just a few moments longer.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Oh? There was a meeting?¡±


    ¡°There was, yes. All the most notable vampires were in attendance.¡±


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Last month.¡±


    ¡°How curious ¡­ I believe I was there, no?¡±


    ¡°You were. But we had another meeting. Directly after you left. It was to discuss your application for induction as a full member of the Nocturne Court.¡±


    Master Harkus sat back slightly, surprised at the expediency.


    ¡°Is that so? I was under the impression these things took time. As well as a vacancy at the table.¡±


    ¡°Time has already been taken. Believe it or not, consideration for your inclusion was first submitted the moment the flames began to take Rozinthe¡¯s capital. Needless to say, the utter collapse of civil society, the famine and the hundred years of bloody war which occurred afterwards significantly escalated the speed of the vetting process.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see ... and the vacancy?¡±


    ¡°Mistress Mirleena sadly passed away a fortnight ago.¡±


    ¡°That is terrible,¡± said Master Harkus, stunned that the paladin order he¡¯d tipped off was actually successful. ¡°How did she perish?¡±


    ¡°It was most unfortunate. She¡¯d survived an assault by a group of paladins who¡¯d somehow stumbled upon her well-hidden lair. Yet during her relocation, she was discovered by one of the Sonnenritter. The 3rd, I believe.¡±


    A shudder ran through every vampire in the crypt.


    A feat only achievable by mention of the Holy Church¡¯s very own clandestine organisation.


    Sisters were the natural enemies of all vampires. But the Sonnenritter were a blight so unholy that it was a shock they didn¡¯t burn beneath daylight swifter than vampires did. Even among them, however, the 3rd was known to be particularly experienced in matters related to their kind.


    ¡°I grieve for her passing,¡± said Master Harkus, the lie coming as easily as his look of sorrow. ¡°Mistress Mirleena was ever a stalwart friend. I regret never having taken up her offer to dominate a kraken into slapping itself.¡±


    Mistress Katarine offered a respectful nod.


    ¡°As do we all. However, there is an eternity to mourn and little time to fill up a vacancy. You understand, I hope, the¨C¡±


    Bwoomph.


    All of a sudden, a crashing noise reverberated throughout the crypt.


    It was like something very heavy had been dropped. Despite the amount of earth which existed between here and the surface, the sound was so clear that it left a slight ringing.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± said Master Harkus swiftly. ¡°My manor is currently undergoing renovations.¡±


    Mistress Katarine nodded, gracefully ignoring the interrupting.


    ¡°It is fine ¡­ as I was saying, I hope you understand the peril in allowing a seat to remain unclaimed for too long.¡±


    ¡°I do, yes. Not every vampire respects due process. Some consider it a bore worth murdering over.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, and truth be told, I do not resent those who do. Bureaucracy goes hand-in-hand with vampiric matters. And this doesn¡¯t always garner a favourable reputation. However, the formal process is necessary. It is no small thing to be promoted to the governing organisation of the shadows themselves. There are responsibilities. And both Master Florian and I personally vouched for your character to uphold them.¡±


    Master Harkus sat up straighter, all the while gently lifting his foot away from the raised tile to activate the window pointing directly at the opposite side of the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m deeply touched. For what it¡¯s worth, I have always held both of you in the highest regards. If it is your decision to accept me into the Nocturne Court, then I will humbly accept this great honour.¡±


    Suddenly, a pause.


    Master Florian adjusted a loose strand in his powdered wig. He did it until Mistress Katarine cleared her throat. Repeatedly.


    ¡°It is true that a preliminary decision has been made for your acceptance,¡± he said, his intonation needlessly measured. ¡°There¡¯s still paperwork which needs to be completed, of course. You understand.¡±


    ¡°Naturally, I do.¡±


    ¡°However, with that said ¡­ there are some outstanding issues. Your spawn, for example.¡±


    Master Harkus laboured to keep his smile intact.


    A difficult thing when his last memories of her was blasphemy in the form of an explosion which did considerably more harm to his psyche than his body.


    Bwooooomph.


    ¡­ And even more so when another crashing sound filled the crypt.


    ¡°My apologies once again,¡± said Master Harkus, his hand curling into a fist beneath the table. ¡°My ¡­ assistants are not known for their handiwork.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a common problem,¡± replied Master Florian amiably. ¡°You can dominate a mind to make them believe they¡¯re an excellent plumber, but that won¡¯t help them with their actual handiwork. You needn¡¯t worry. We¡¯ve all tried that route.¡±


    ¡°Indeed we have ¡­ now, about my spawn. You refer to Miriam, I take it?¡±


    ¡°I do, yes. This ¡­ well, chatter about her not being very traditional in her choice of subversive activities isn¡¯t a disqualifying fault. But it is a distraction. While most of the Nocturne Court find her actions to be amusing, I fear that such talk would be an unnecessary cloud during your ascension.¡±


    Master Harkus nodded.


    ¡°I see. Your consideration is appreciated. And I am happy to offer good news in that regard. I have actually spoken with Miriam concerning her activities. It is, after all, the reason why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°Goodness me. Then that¡¯s excellent. How did they go?¡±


    ¡°Splendidly. In fact, I believe that one more conversation is all that¡¯s needed to truly instil in her any concerns you might have regarding her behaviour.¡±


    ¡°Well, that would be most ideal! It would mean Mistress Katarine and I can remain to formally announce your ascension. Providing, of course, that we¡¯ve reassurances from your spawn that her activities take on a slightly more ¡­ well, sinister nature going forwards.¡±


    Master Harkus¡¯s smile strained at what was being suggested.


    ¡°... You wish to meet her?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d only be brief. Hardly an interview. I imagine just a minute or two is enough. Really, we just want to be able to say we¡¯ve met her so that we can personally help assuage any rumours the malcontents would hope to continue. There will be many envious of your new position. But it¡¯s one you¡¯re more than qualified for. You scored extremely highly against our candidate evaluation criteria.¡±


    It took all his willpower to stop himself from immediately scouring the forest.


    That was an activity he¡¯d actively hoped to avoid. Miriam was proving elusive, to the extent that even the trapper he¡¯d raised to find her had yet to offer him any news. All he knew with any certainty was that she hadn¡¯t left the vicinity. Or died.


    At least until he found her.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he said calmly. ¡°I¡¯m certain Miriam would be delighted to meet you. It would be good for her to meet more of her kind. She has, as the rumours suggest, been somewhat reclusive. However, since she also represents me, I can assure you that¨C¡±


    Bwoooooooooomph!


    Suddenly, every vampire present reached out to hold onto the table as the crypt itself shook.


    A smattering of dust fell from the ceiling, caking shoulders and thoroughly embarrassing a vampire in the midst of what was very much an informal but also formal interview regarding his rise to the Nocturne Court and eventually the entire world order.


    ¡°Goodness!¡± Mistress Katarine¡¯s scarlet eyes widened. ¡°Master Harkus, what is that abominable racket? Are you renovating the manor or demolishing it?¡±


    He barely had time to offer an excuse.


    In that moment, one of the brigands he¡¯d dominated awkwardly came down the steps.


    With his eyes hazy and less than half of his faculties working, he didn¡¯t even have the wits to wear the look of terror he should rightfully be wearing for being in the presence of three master vampires.


    ¡°My lord. There are guests. I¡¯ve been told that you¡¯d want to know this.¡±


    Master Harkus¡¯s mouth widened.


    ¡°Guests? ¡­ What guests? Is it more of my kind?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Is it more vampires,¡± he said, aggrieved.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, my lord.¡±


    Master Harkus looked at his two peers.


    Both of them offered unknowing shakes of their heads. Neither seemed impressed. He didn¡¯t blame them. His barrier was one which not even the greatest of mages should be able to easily avoid.


    ¡°Well, what are they doing? ¡­ What is that awful noise I¡¯m hearing?¡±


    The brigand paused, requiring every morsel of his wits to piece together a reply.


    ¡°They¡¯re throwing furniture.¡±

 Chapter 368: A Tolling For The Lost

    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    I carefully studied the flower vase presented for my inspection.


    Barren and tasteless. Just like the withered daffodil within.


    With one leg crossed over the other, I sat upon the edge of a dining table while counting the sheer number of scratches that made up the pottery. Mostly because of the curious sheen which flattered the vase, courtesy of a twilight sky.


    Shorn of a roof, the first stars twinkled overhead, their light rubbing elbows against a brush of lavender as evening faded towards night. It was a sight gentle enough for me to almost forgive the workmanship before me.


    Almost.


    ¡°Unsalvageable,¡± I declared with a flick of my wrist. ¡°Next in the queue.¡±


    Before me, the hoodlum holding the flower vase winced as Coppelia reached out for the vase.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    The flower vase vanished into the horizon, easily sent through a window now considerably widened owing to the number of chairs which had enlarged it.


    And ¡­ ah, what did I have here?


    Yet another chair.


    ¡°Hmm ¡­¡±


    I leaned in to study it.


    This one was new. An berg¨¨re chair upholstered with a cushion, carefully patterned with shapes indistinguishable from the stains of a tavern floor. Likely because that¡¯s where it¡¯d been stolen from.


    I gave it a nod. And then flicked my wrist.


    ¡°Unsalvageable. Next in the queue.¡±


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    With a gulp, the next hoodlum stepped up, this time with a small cabinet.


    My judgement was immediate.


    Whichever barn it¡¯d been stolen from, it¡¯d either been home to a flock of highly peckish hens. Or a queue of hoodlums whose nails nervously tapped at whichever furniture they were holding while waiting for their turn, their faces creased in different stages of muscle pain as they held the various bits of tableware, ornaments and furnishings to their chests.


    More than once, a back or a knee audibly creaked along with a groan. And for good reason.


    Nobody deserved to be forced to decorate with such a poor catalogue available.


    Whether it was mismatching colours, unvarnished surfaces or simply things with holes in them, what I saw was an unending lack of standards more galling than the worst priceless brooch any baroness at my mandatory tea parties could spend their entire family fortune purchasing for me.


    In fact ¡­ there was only one joy to be seen.


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    Yes.


    A certain clockwork doll¡¯s expression as she merrily tossed furniture into the designated pile off into the distance¨Cthe exact location to be determined by the hoodlums who will gather them up.


    I expected them to work with the same diligence as my loyal handmaiden.


    After all, they were currently here for the same purpose we were.


    Desperately needed renovations.


    Ohohohohoho!


    Indeed, a vampire¡¯s lair was more than just a place of darkness!


    It was an abode shamelessly raised from the stolen wealth of whichever kingdom it blighted. And while few vampires dared to claim the mantle of royalty while wandering princesses were there to deny it, this still didn¡¯t preclude them from living out their fantasies.


    As such, their lairs were as famous as the cursed treasures they contained.


    Darkened castles rich with heritage, blood soaked carpets and unsmiling portraits. Parapets and towers illuminated amidst the fog by a shriek of lightning. A visage of bleak walls and despair, broken only by orange windows aglow like laughing pumpkins, inviting the foolish and the weak into the waiting maw beyond.


    This recently burned down barn ¡­ absolutely wasn¡¯t that.


    But that didn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t be.


    Especially with such enthusiastic help.


    ¡°Oooooh~!¡± Coppelia raised a hand to her brows, peering into the distance. ¡°That cabinet was a new record. Not in distance. But in feeling. I could taste the crunch from here!¡±


    With a nod, she turned to the queue and went to her tip-toes. As she began to point, hoodlums began to recede in height.


    ¡°Alrighty! You over there! The one trying your best to hide! Congrats! You get to jump the queue!¡±


    Immediately, hoodlums began to edge away from a colleague holding another small cabinet to his chest. His shoulders dropped momentarily, his scarred face a mosaic of regret before he waddled his way towards us without rest. He gave a small groan as he presented his burden.


    This time, I wore a smile of delight.


    Indeed ¡­ for Coppelia to order around hapless minions was a sign of her progression!


    As the handmaiden to a princess, she was no mere servant. She was also my voice.


    And also my arm.


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    I nodded with pride as the renovations smoothly progressed. And although every hoodlum shuddered with anticipation at their furniture being judged by a princess, all would have their turn.


    After all, the vampire squatter had chosen this forest for a reason.


    Here was the exact part of my kingdom which a creature of darkness had deemed optimal for building his own hovel. A corner judged by a master lout to be worthy of the lowest living standards.


    And that meant ¡­ an opportunity!


    Ohohohoho!


    Indeed!


    While lesser princesses would tremble and never think of it again, I was nothing if not a beacon of enterprise¨Cand I knew that so long as my kingdom was as fair as my skin, malcontents would continue finding their way here to nibble at it.


    Thus ¡­ instead of constantly seeking them out, I¡¯d simply lure them here instead!


    Yes, rather than merely tear down this hovel and close my eyes, I¡¯d instead replace it with every delinquent''s dream!


    ¡­ A seemingly abandoned fortress!


    Somehow forgotten by every map, civil servant and farmer I¡¯d build a monument to a once proud miscreant now fallen into disrepair. An immaculately crafted replica of vanity complete with creaking towers, overgrown vines and broken statues, fit to be inhabited by every schemer who wished to imperil my kingdom ¡­ and oh my, what would they find as soon as they stepped on the welcoming mat?


    Indeed, a trap door leading directly into an inescapable dungeon!


    Ohohohohohohohohoohoo!!


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Why ¡­ it was so simple!


    The very idea only a princess whose mind was unburdened by thoughts of both cost and practicality could make a reality!


    Instead of wasting time and resources on an actual fortress to ward away future hoodlums, I¡¯d instead lure them into 99 floors of bespoke traps borrowed directly from the tunnels beneath the Royal Villa!


    Frankly, it was a shock why nobody had considered this sooner.


    Given how swiftly caves and ruins were occupied by troublemakers, to offer a modest fortress would be like drawing moths to an open flame  ¡­ and the very first to sample this work-in-progress could be the very one who helped identify this promising new site.


    Flutterflutterflutterflutterflutter.


    The very moment the brush of lavender dipped from the horizon, it was replaced by the sight of darkness.


    Not from the night sky. But the shadow of a thousand bats.


    They burst forth from a balcony overlooking the dining chamber with neither warning nor fanfare. A veritable stream of shadow which swiftly became a tarp over our heads, before suddenly converging together into a pulsating ball at the front of the queue.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°Put. Down. The. Plates.¡±


    There he was.


    A vampire in the guise of a man whose face was both aged and remarkably smooth.


    And yet despite the fangs which peeked from his grimace, the first thing I noticed was his posture. Chin high. Back straight. One hand upon his waist, elbow up as though to hold up a cloak, while the other grasped at an invisible sword by his side.


    The very picture of nobility.


    Literally so.


    This was the standing portrait pose. And yet even without his vampiric features, I could have picked him out amongst an entire soir¨¦e.


    After all¨C


    Everybody would be openly jeering him.


    Ohohohohoho!


    A court tunic which had gone out of style several decades ago! Ashen white hair elaborately curled in the manner of retired admirals hoping to hide a balding patch with a powdered wig! Breeches so tight that they functioned only to funnel blood away from his legs!


    Why, he was practically a caricature fit for the stage!


    ¡°Ah ¡­ Ah ¡­. Aaahhhhhh!¡±


    Little wonder, then, that against this fashion criminal, all the nearby ruffians could do was flee.


    Finding some inner instinct which no vampire¡¯s magic could mute, ornaments and furniture were dropped on the spot, appropriately smashing into easily sweepable pieces as they left to busy themselves with collecting the already thrown bits and pieces outside.


    The vampire didn¡¯t seem to care.


    His gaze was set wholly on the tableware in Coppelia¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Those are my favourite plates,¡± he said, his crimson eyes narrowing. ¡°Put them down.¡±


    Coppelia blinked.


    Then she looked at me. I looked at the plates in question. White ceramic. Beautifully painted. Blue floral motifs.


    ¡­ But also not porcelain.


    Thus, I offered her a nod. And also a flick of my wrist.


    ¡°[Coppelia Throw]~!¡±


    The vampire watched silently as a stack of stoneware plates were tossed through the window and towards the nether, joining several other piles of similarly discarded plates. He then wrinkled his nose, beat away a cloak which didn¡¯t exist and gestured flamboyantly towards everything and everyone.


    I was in full agreement.


    It all needed to go.


    ¡°That was ill-advised,¡± he said, his every syllable stretched like a worm wriggling to escape. ¡°But perhaps I¡¯ve none but myself to blame, rare as it is for me to admit fault. It appears I was mistaken. The one benefit I saw of my manor being engulfed in flames proved untrue. I see rodents are still present.¡±


    I blinked in surprise.


    ¡°Hm. How curious. It seems I was mistaken too. I was under the impression that vampires couldn¡¯t see their reflection. Yet it seems you must have caught yourself in a mirror.¡±


    The vampire slowly raised a brow.


    ¡°Ah. Such nostalgia. It¡¯s been countless centuries since I was last insulted by a mortal girl. Particularly before I even began to hint at how thoroughly irritated I am. I almost forgot to be surprised.¡±


    ¡°Well, you clearly forgot how to offer an appropriate welcome as well. Why, the only carpet I see laid out before me is the black scorch mark on the floor.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯d prefer, I can have it replaced. I¡¯m certain the ashes of random girls wandering into a vampire¡¯s abode will do just fine. But I suppose you know that, given that nobody would dare pass through my barrier without reason. So tell me¨Care you the latest heroine ordained to slay me?¡±


    My mouth widened in horror.


    ¡°How dare you. That is an outrageous accusation.¡±


    ¡°... What?¡±


    ¡°I am a princess. Not a heroine. There is a vast difference. Furthermore, know that the reason you don¡¯t face the latter is because of my exceptional good will! Had you been confronted by a certain farm girl, not only would you have been fated to turn to dust, but you¡¯d also be eternally remembered as the failed vampire who officially sealed her rise. That is humiliating.¡±


    The vampire¡¯s eyes narrowed further.


    His hand almost seemed to flinch from his waist, but he did nothing else.


    ¡°A princess,¡± he said, making utterly no notion of bowing or immediately walking into a stake as decorum demanded. ¡°How quaint. I¡¯ve known more than I can count, so you must accept my apologies ¡­ Your Highness. But as much as I¡¯d normally relish the opportunity to enjoy my fill of royal blood, I happen to be exceptionally busy right now.¡±


    ¡°A scandalous notion. Nothing can possibly be more important than draining my blood.¡±


    ¡°On a normal night, perhaps so. But you happen to have interrupted me during something very sensitive. I¡¯m on the cusp of ascending to the Nocturne Court.¡±


    I gasped.


    ¡°My, why didn¡¯t you say so! I do apologise! ¡­ Had I known you were at threat of being recognised as a greater rodent, I would have come to avert your embarrassment earlier!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to be embarrassed about, Princess. The Nocturne Court is the governing power of all vampires. To be raised amongst its ranks is the highest aspiration of my kind. And this means that for once, I do not have the time to indulge in idle chatter.¡±


    ¡°I agree. You¡¯ve other matters of importance to attend to. Beginning with tidying. There¡¯s an endless amount you can assist with. You needn¡¯t be picky. Everything needs to go.¡±


    The vampire raised his fingertip.


    ¡°In that case¨Callow me to assist.¡±


    Suddenly, a strand of blood seeped out from beneath his nail like a weave of magic.


    Blood magic.


    ¡°I am Master Harkus of Revarin,¡± he added after the briefest pause, introducing himself as the minimum of courtesy demanded. ¡°Now, please excuse me for my brusqueness. But I¡¯m going to murder you now.¡±


    I held out my palm.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to wait for. We are done.¡±


    ¡°Indeed we are. But I believe you¡¯ve still unfinished business elsewhere.¡±


    The vampire looked at me in unabashed suspicion.


    ¡°Nnngh ¡­¡±


    A moment later¨Cit became a look of utmost exasperation as he turned his gaze downwards.


    There, crawling out from beneath the dining table was a maiden in pink pyjamas. She looked up, yawned and rubbed her eyes.


    ¡°That ¡­ was the worst 5 minute nap I ever experienced.¡±


    The master vampire recoiled as though struck by a glass of holy water.


    In an instant, all traces of his faux noble demeanour vanished, replaced by the same look of horror as everyone to glance at his cutlery set. All unburnished brass. That¡¯d been the first to go.


    ¡°Miriam! What are you ¡­ why are ¡­ were you just napping on my floor?!¡±


    My librarian blinked several times. She gave another yawn, then nodded.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why?! That is unacceptable! We have an image to maintain! I have already informed you of this! You cannot nap beneath a table like the vagrant mortals I¡¯ve dominated! I did not turn you into a vampire so that you could embarrass us ¡­ embarrass me in such a shameless fashion!¡±


    Miriam shrugged, all the while her counterpart swept his gaze around him like a panicked gazelle.


    ¡°I was tired,¡± she explained. ¡°The table was also the only source of shelter against the sunlight.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope you¡¯re well rested! You¡¯ve much to explain, beginning with why you continually insist on disappointing me! ¡­ The floor, Miriam? Of all places?¡±


    ¡°The countess may nap wherever she pleases,¡± I duly informed him. ¡°That is the right of all maidens. Should she choose to attempt to find sleep beneath a table, then you should consider it an honour that this hovel scarcely deserves.¡±


    The master rodent grimaced once more, one step away from a hiss.


    ¡°Listen to me, Miriam,¡± he said, his crimson eyes glowing as he struggled to peer down without bending his back. ¡°You need to fix your appearance immediately. This is of paramount importance.¡±


    ¡°Hm? Why should I?¡±


    ¡°Because ¡­ I am currently being assessed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, okay.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡± The man raised his hands in grief. ¡°Is that it? Is that the language worthy of our ancient bearing?¡±


    ¡°Yes. After all, I¡¯m also here as a distraction.¡±


    The vampire stared in utter incomprehension. He blinked at Miriam. And then at me.


    A moment later¨C


    ¡°[Moonlit Sickle].¡±


    Shhhhunk.


    He also blinked at a smiling Coppelia ¡­ courtesy of his head promptly separating from his neck.


    Unlike a sister blessed with holy powers, his head was very much of the ordinary variety.


    However ¡­ despite the fact that it was cleanly severed, it failed to thud against the floor.


    In one respect, this was good. Miriam was also on the floor. Nobody deserved to see such an unnaturally shiny face from up close. Her next nap would be awful.


    And yet it was also less than ideal.


    Because instead of the vampire¡¯s head now being punted to the horizon, it remained suspended beside him, held aloft by a strand of blood like a string to a cup.


    The vampire, his face upside-down, wrinkled his nose.


    And then¨C


    His hand clasped into a fist seeping with blood.


    ¡°[Exsanguinating Grasp].¡±

 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¨C


    ¡°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¨Cwhy, 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.¡±


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°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¨C¡±


    ¡°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 cr¨ºpes ¡­ 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¨Cregardless 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¨C¡±


    ¡°[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¨C


    ¡°[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¨Cjust 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¨Ceverything 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¨C


    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.¡±

 Chapter 371: A Heroine’s Choice

    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¨Cwith 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¨Cuntil 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.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    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¨C


    ¡°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¨Cand 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¨Cabout becoming a town guard!


    ¡­ And also if she could bring her own sword.

 Chapter 372: A Princess’s Innocence

    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 story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    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 gateau aux cerises tr¨¨s 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¨Cas 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¨Cas 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¨Cthen 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¨C¡±


    ¡°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¨Cwhat 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¨C


    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¨C¡±


    ¡°No.¡±