《Schneiders Guide, or How To Kill Your Princess》 0: Schadenfreude ¡® did have wonderful words for describing emotions, and his level of arrogance was finely maintained to be noticeable and yet not too snobbish, so John felt no need for further self inspection. elseSchadenfreude high school teacherIf you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. she¡¯s pretending she has read for enough balls and parties and gatherings until she decides you¡¯re good enough for a quick rump and dump behind the husbands back. But at least then he could be mildly drunk, or fill himself up on food too expensive for pleasant consumption on ones own wallet. 1: Maidenly Mystery not have his ¡°first day of class¡± shtick memorized. Hence he could manage to tell them the list of books they needed to buy, or tell their butlers to buy for them, whilst also taking a full inventory of the outliers in the class. had to have countless cards at play here, considering how public the news were. Public enough that the brats were busy gossiping about being in the same school as a Princess no one had ever seen, rather than listening to him rant his way through the study plan. nessa failed to befriend. Well, you can hardly expect a girl to be full of joy with a name like that. Her parents obviously wanted a son. And considering she introduced herself as Annastasia, she obviously didn¡¯t get along with her parents. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. a princess, even if not the one he was looking for. something unique about them, something or the other. It may not be noticeable at first glance but it had been 50 minutes, almost half their class time, and he had yet to find a single memorable fact about her. She was utterly dull, yet unnoticeably so. Her interests were listed in her student file as chess and wood carvings, but she had deemed not to join any of the related clubs. Her father, he found out from the file he requested from the Company that night, was a small time merchant turned big time alchemist. Well, relatively big time, considering every Jake and Jimmy in this goddamn place was the heir of some accursed noble somewhere. 2: Crooked Moon All of this would be so much easier if not for how damn thorough the Royalty of Azdon had been. They could have simply whisked the Princess away when she hit her teens, shoved her on some indebted nobles hands and made his job so much easier. That way, he could just lock himself in a room at one of the Company¡¯s intelligence offices and look at every students entire life story until he finds the one that appeared out of nowhere. A suddenly discovered merchants bastard daughter, a suddenly adopted nobles in-law. No matter how long it took, he¡¯d find the blanks eventually. But no, they had planned this far in advance. She had been taken from her mothers arms at birth and hidden away among the upper class. Nothing about her physical features were known. Not the colour of her eyes, for she had yet to open them before she was disappeared. Not the color of her hair, for she had none when the doctor saw her. They had made sure to interrogate him quite thoroughly, the doctor. They¡¯d found the drunken old man in his second year of infiltration. He hadn¡¯t even known the mother was a Queen Consort, or that he had held the second in line to the throne in his hands. His job would also be much easier if they had started searching earlier, but they hadn¡¯t cared before. Hadn¡¯t had a reason to. They thought the King was being paranoid again, the Azdonians were being skittish. They had made jokes about it in bars and whorehouses. ¡®The Royal Family is mighty scared, oh yes, terrified! The moment the King saw the Leviothan offensive he knew he had to hide his daughter, he did!¡¯ And they were pleased. The Company was very pleased indeed. They profited from war and terror. They profited from chaotic times, intrigue and politics. There was always need for his kind. You need a fellow merchant to disappear? A troublesome bastard child to forsake any claims to your wealth? A competitor in love, a rival for a lady¡¯s hand in marriage, to be found drunk and filled with opium in a cheap brothel? The Company was at your service. There was always need for stabbings in the dark, and so The Company would always be, but any good business would love to maintain the state of most profit. And so The Company loved calamity. Times of unease and disaster, times of monsters and men. Men turned monsters. And so The Company loved War. Whether it be overt with rallying knights and cavalry charges, or more of the quiet sort. Trade, honor, tradition, politics. The Company was at your service.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. And it was due to that exact reason that this princess couldn¡¯t be allowed to grow. For on the year of her 16th birthday it was announced she would be married to the Second Prince of Leviot. Ending the tensions between the two countries once and for all. Making Daggerfort pointless. Making their profits sink. But it had been too late for The Company to throw its weight around. They had given the Azdon 16 years to hide her. Hide everything about her. So many feints, so many diversions. They knew what they were doing, exactly who they were going up against. They knew every bloody party with even the slightest of power has a motive to know her. From the usual kidnappings for ransom or dreams of seduction, to the more sinister plans. Using her blood in retarded rituals, offerings to unholy gods. Using her bones in interfusions to cause harm to the King himself. Getting rid of her soul, making her a puppet, to have the political power of a Princess. Or killing her, plain old. But maybe with a little spice. Maybe the royal crest of Leviot signed onto her flesh with a knife, to make it clear who did it. Of course, neither the Queen of Leviot nor the King of Azdon were dumb enough to actually believe such an occurrence. But it would complicate things. Confuse nobles, confuse officials. Muddy the waters. The Company swam best in muddy waters, they¡¯d do the rest. He just had to find her. He just had to bloody find her. In an academy with 1252 students, 610 of which were female. The Germans had such wonderful words to describe emotions, Weltschmerz. Of course, if he counted only the Seniors then the number would be much less. They did know her birthday after all. But there was no guarantee she wasn¡¯t hidden between her youngers. The only guarantee they had was that she would be attending. That still left the Royals with way too many cards to play, and John Schneider with way too little. She could be, quite literally, anyone. She could have been handed to any of the noble families at birth, even The Vee couldn¡¯t refuse a King so easily. The merchants were par for the course, some of the more¡­ ambitious ones would probably slaughter their own children to have the chance to raise a Princess. Knighted families would be honored to serve a royal as such. Anyone. She could be anyone. His task seemed almost hopeless, until he received a letter from The Company. It arrived 2 days after the ribbon of Knoxfort was cut and classes started. Came with one of the files he had requested. Sealed tight with the Daggerfort stamp. They had finally found someone that knew something. A handmaiden that had seen her in her mothers hands, and paid more attention than the doctor had. ¡°A little birthmark, like a crooked crescent moon¡±. She said, ¡°above the small of her back.¡± He was overjoyed, drank himself piss drunk. It was only on the very early morning, nursing a little hangover with a cup of coffee in the teachers break room listening to Gregor repeat his ¡°kids these days¡± rant, that he realized he¡¯d have to spy on the naked backside of girls half his age. He wanted to kill something. If Gregor didn¡¯t stop talking at that exact moment, maybe by some knightly instinct, there would have been a very obvious murder mystery for the constables to solve that day. 3: Whack-A-Mole! did, Greg would probably notice it himself. Him and his pesky honor. Him and his pesky overly sensitive knightly instinct. Gregor¡¯s naive trust made him feel like a childrens story villain. Mustache too twirly, back too crooked and way too tall. Hide your grain, hide your wives, for Schneiderstein has arrived! crass. A swimming class wouldn¡¯t be feasible because that would imply the brats didn¡¯t know how to swim, but a competition had a better chance of working out.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°Now if this had been a good month or two into the school year, that would be a believable lie. Enough time to gain the trust of the careful but still gullible kitchen stuff. But it had only been a mere 8 days. Well, not that the quality of her lie changed anything. ¡°You look stressed, sir. Cinnamon tea is the best medicine.¡± She smiled sweetly. Or rather, tried to smile sweetly. The bends on her facial muscles looked unnatural, macabre. She hadn¡¯t dipped into the uncanny valley, she¡¯d bungee jumped down with nothing but gum and prayer. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° -1: Dreamy Damsel ¡° The Memories. something iconic. Something she¡¯d be remembered for. Something she¡¯d be famous for. Of starving not just for food but for fortune. And of falling in love. Of marrying a young car mechanic that had helped fix her rental Honda Civic when she was worried she¡¯d have to pay the full price for it. Of having a child of her own. nd grandson. She woke up, panicked. Did he survive? Was her daughter okay? Her husband? not Janette Kennedy. And she burst out crying and ran to her fathers room with snot running down her nose and told him she felt lost and not herself and uncertain and sad and she just wanted to forget. ¡° needed in her hands and running to reach a destination that was unknown. So focused she was on the pure physical act of running that she didn¡¯t even notice when the road curved in front of her and she ran straight into the woods. So focused she was, that she didn¡¯t notice the howling of the wolves. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ?memories?[soul?]) of Kanessa ¡°Nessie¡± Javelin gave out to the wonderful bliss of acceptance, Janette ¡°Jane¡± Kennedy took over with a vengeance. A fury, a sudden spiraling inferno of will. Will to run, to survive, to live. (her?) brain kicked into high gear, using processing power her young body shouldn¡¯t have had. She noticed a weakness, a crack in the encirclement. An old, massive grey wolf with a limp leg. She threw the food in her rugsack at a younger wolf near him, and with a running start, threw the rugsack itself at the old wolf. It was filled with nothing but paper and blankets, but it made for a good enough distraction. Her running didn¡¯t stop. She ran past the two wolves, hearing the rest of the pack turn and follow. She ran with fury in her veins and no thoughts on her mind except to survive. She ran, knowing full well that they would catch up eventually. She ran. (?memories?[soul?{persona!}]) of Janette ¡°Jane¡± Kennedy melting alongside it. Joining that of Kanessa ¡°Nessie¡± Javelin in staring at the abyss. Shivering. Ignoring. Ignoring the growlings and the cold and the guilt and the guilt. 4: Bombastic Ball But the fort in the name wasn¡¯t simply for decoration either. The security was constantly immaculate. Even the very architecture of the institute itself had many escape routes and emergency shelters built under the ground floors. Each dorm building had a small squadron of soldiers to keep watch, and they were rotated thrice a day to ensure no one ever slacked on the job. Class rooms were protected by an abundance of extremely expensive enchantments carved into the wood, all of which could be activated by a simple touch from the teachers desk. And of course, all such measures would be ramped up for each and every event. But that was the thing, wasn¡¯t it, the teacher had to press the button. In the end, there¡¯s cracks in every shield. And not expecting an infiltration specialist with all of The Company¡¯s resources at his leisure...well, it¡¯s not something to be ashamed of. But he couldn¡¯t just do it. He couldn¡¯t simply call for an ungodly amount of explosives, plant them under the venue of the next big thing Knoxfort was doing to brown nose its patrons and blow them all to bits. It would be rather unwise. Why? Well, The Company swam best in muddy waters, but even they couldn¡¯t swim in a flood. B: Knowing who the Princess simply gave them many more advantages than boorish explosions. Although his main mission was killing her, this was a flexible operation initiated by a reasonable business. Their motive was profit, and the margins were subject to change. C: This side of the operation was supposed to be graceful. Precise surgical cuts, rather than a wildly swinging sledgehammer. Not to imply the company wasn¡¯t capable of the latter, but if they wanted to go that route, they¡¯d more likely put their focus on the other side of the operation.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. D: Security was still a concern. Sure, he could do many unpleasant things using his position. His two years of effort weren¡¯t in vain. But demolitions work was quite...extreme. Sneaking in enough of whatever the fuck he managed to get from the explosives department and planting them in Knoxfort under so many watchful eyes was more than just a gamble. Even with how convenient The Companys resources were, there was still limits to risks he could take. any risks with this one. E: He couldn¡¯t do it. Personally. He admitted it, best not to ignore weakness. He had killed many many innocents before, people unrelated to the under belly of society he resided in. He wasn¡¯t some wimpy recruit who hadn¡¯t seen any blood except his womans period. He knew how to deal with it. It was his job. sure to look them in the eye. Understand them, just a little bit. Remember them, for just a little while. not account for failure. The solution to his dilemma was Prom. It was the only event on the school schedule that actually forbid the attendance of family. Students only, with the staff to serve them and the teachers to sit around feeling awkward as they watch their intellectual apprentices devolve into alcohol fueled hormone nests. It was also held at the end of the school year, and by some lucky coincidence, the hall it was to be held in was still under construction. The lack of higher level nobility fixed problem A. The venue being under construction fixed problem D. And the timing of the event being at the end of the year made B and C easily insignificant. Because he needed to account for failure. He needed to have an ace up his sleeve in case he didn¡¯t find her after the year was over. He couldn¡¯t afford anything except success. If it came down to it¡­ He¡¯d have to live with problem E.