I blinked in confusion as I woke up.
Warmth enveloped me. A fine duvet almost as soft as my skin. And a mattress with the elasticity of a chiffon cake baked by myself. It was wonderful. All that blissful comfort absorbing me into the arms of sleep moments after waking up.
And then came the smell.
Cows.
Peasants.
And whatever cows and peasants ate for breakfast, likely from the same bowl.
It was vile. An assault on my senses as loud as my mother's maids as they fearlessly swept me from my bed like a target of their laundry duties.
And so I rose … remembering that this wasn't the Royal Villa. This was not my home. And this was not my bed.
It was an inn in the centre of Aquina.
And that meant the scent of livestock in the morning. And worse, the poverty of those tasked with keeping them.
I stretched as I stood up, turning my eyes away from every direction other than the bed which had cradled me for the night.
Its gleam was undiminished against the shuttered window. An artifact of the storied Fae Realm worth more than any weapon, painting or trinket. The crystal frame glittered as well as any jewel encrusted chandelier. But strangely, not quite as much as the giant key sticking out from Coppelia's back as she lay on her side.
A wide smile ran across her face as she imagined dreams of serving my every whim.
“Nnhghh … nnnghhn …. nnnghhmm … ehehehe … chocolate … custard … in a cornet … nnhhhn ...”
Indeed, she was so enamoured with thoughts of preparing me breakfast that she was already drooling!
Still there was a time and place for my future handmaiden's slovenly appearance. And that time was never.
When she awoke, I'd have to remind her of her duties to public perception.
After all, when I returned to the Royal Villa, every action she performed by my side would be scrutinised. The one and only skill of the treacherous nobility. Decrying even a single wrinkle on the cuffs of my servants.
I had no intention of allowing them that pleasure.
But first …
I leaned over Coppelia, ready to wake her for the day's challenges ahead. Yet again, I expected all the buffoons of this kingdom to trip over themselves in synchronised unison just to make it harder for me to step over them.
But then I paused, seeing her content expression.
And also her … why, yes, I wasn't mistaken … that was indeed drool.
Ugh. I really didn’t want to have to wipe that away again.
“Nnhh … muuhehehehe ...”
I gave a quiet sigh.
The Winter Queen's bed was a fine thing. Not finer than my own bed, of course. But it was a worthy substitute to the … thing which commoners slept on. That wooden frame they called a bed, but which wouldn't pass as a feeding trough for the mares of my stables.
And yet to Coppelia, who'd surely only known the hardship of sleeping on whatever fallen piano had counted as her bed in the Northern Realm of Oddballs, the joy of this bed was akin to experiencing a spot of sunshine having lived in a world of shadows.
And so I waited, admiring the ends of my hair, the reflection of my face in the four-poster's crystal frame, and the sound of the noon bell striking in the distance precisely a dozen times.
Diiing … Diiing … Diiing ...
Hmm.
Interesting.
Why would the noon bell be tolling during early morning?
Aquina couldn't even do the time correctly. Didn't they know the economic ramifications to that? Why, to toll the bell inaccurately in the royal capital would draw the ire of even the stray cats. Businesses relied upon proper timekeeping to function. What use was there in having the noon bell ring while dawn had barely risen?
I slowly tapped my foot against the floorboards.
And then–
“C-Coppelia … !”
“Nnhghh … ?”
“Coppelia! We … We must depart! The time! It's … It's now noon!”
“Itschawho? Wheresch my chocolate cornet go? Did … Did you schee it?”
I reached over and swept aside the duvet.
That's right! It was no time to be sleeping!
Because as the sunlight filtered in through the cracked shutters and idling peasants filled the air with unintelligible chatter outside, I realised we'd been far too careless!
“There's no chocolate cornet! We've overslept! Badly! Come, Coppelia! We must not rest on our laurels!”
That's right!
It was more than tax evaders which sought to cover the Royal Treasury in shadow!
Yes, Aquina had been brought lower than it already was and the fae were now my most recent supplier of furniture, but the foul deeds which threatened my family's bottom line stretched far beyond anything I could fix while oversleeping!
This wasn't my studies or the tea parties arranged by my mother!
I couldn't afford to laze!
“C-Coppelia! Wake up! Pirates in our waters leave our trade ports empty! Monsters cower our merchants from the roads! A hole into the abyss halts our mines! Skirmishes harangue our eastern border!”
I shook her desperately. She peeked a bleary eye at me.
And then–
“Nnnmmh … ehehe … there you are … chocolate cornet … nmmhh ...”
She fell back asleep?!
S-Such a formidable opponent! Even on my best days, I could only ignore the maids until they swept my duvet away!
In that case … there was no other choice!
I raised my hand, directing my floral ring towards the bed.
“[Dismiss Bed].”
Poof.
As suddenly as it appeared, the royal four-poster bed vanished in a puff of white smoke.
Coppelia floated in the air momentarily, her curled up figure comically aloft through pure strength of will before gravity finally plopped her back down.
At last, her eyes finally blinked awake.
She sat up on the wooden floorboards and slowly yawned, stretching her arms above her head as she offered me a lazy smile.
“Morning~”
“... Good morning.”
I waited for consciousness to fully arrive. It did when she clapped her hands together.
“Oh boy, that bed was great! I didn't even know it was possible to swim in a bed! I gotta admit, the Winter Queen has taste. I can feel my cogs turning faster now!”
“Excellent. Because we're behind schedule.”
“Eh? But didn't we do a bunch of stuff already?”
“What we did pales in comparison to what's left to be done. The kingdom's prosperity is in jeopardy to more than mages in scandalous underwear and plotting nobility. If it wasn't, then I never would have left my bedroom.”
“Wow. Sounds rough. Hey, have you ever considered just getting a new kingdom?”
I opened my mouth in horror at the suggestion … that I'd never once considered if this was feasibly possible.
“O-Of course not! Why, not only would that be … probably not possible, but the Kingdom of Tirea is grander than the Emerald Sea. I would … I would never consider abandoning it for greener pastures which do not exist! N-Not at all!”
“You sure? Because if you really want a new kingdom, I know a guy who could help.”
It worried me that I wasn't certain if she was merely joking or not.
“My kingdom is quite enough, thank you. Especially once we've done away with the many leeches seeking to bleed it dry of wealth and prosperity. Are you sufficiently rested now? My boots and your shoes have ample work to do.”
“Is that a suggestion we're going to trample over stuff?”
“Yes, Coppelia, it is.”
“Great! … But maybe after breakfast? Hey, do you want to go for a chocolate cornet?”
“I'm afraid I don't quite know what a chocolate cornet is. Nor do we have the luxury of searching one out while my kingdom is imperilled.”
“It's a sweet roll of pastry filled with chocolate custard. Children eat them in Ouzelia. I'm pretty sure I saw a bakery advertising them on one of the signs outside.”
I pursed my lips.
“We'll need several days' worth of provisions,” I declared.
Coppelia lowered her arms and sat up straight.
“You can count on me,” she said, offering a salute.
“Good. Then let's depart. We've time to make up.”
I nodded, content to meet whatever lowly challenges awaited with both dignity and satisfied appetites. And that meant it was time for Coppelia to secure vital chocolate … vital supplies while I fetched Apple!
Without wasting any more time, I made my way to the door.
For a moment, I wondered why a chair was pushed up against the handle. I paused, looked at it in puzzlement, then pulled it aside so I could leave.
“Good afternoon,” said the young woman standing outside my door, her polite smile as steadfast as her poise. “I apologise for–”
I slammed the door.
Then, I grabbed the chair and returned it to its place blocking the door handle.
That … That wasn't a nightmare?!
The sight of the receptionist from the Adventurer's Guild outside my inn room door wasn't a terrible figment of my imagination, a product of the overbearing smell of barnyard animals and chronic lack of sleep?!
But why?!
She was the receptionist in Reitzlake! Why was she here in Aquina?!
“Is that us being chased for a late check-out fee?” said Coppelia, barely hiding her giggle as she'd doubtless caught a glimpse of who our visitor was.
I nodded as I swept over to the window. I threw open the shutters.
I had no fathomable idea why a receptionist from Reitzlake was here, but every royal instinct was informing me that I didn't need to know!
“Apparently so.” I leaned through the freshly opened window. “We'll have to exit in a more discreet manner.”
The crumbling walls of another hovel immediately greeted me, so close that I could reach it. Beneath, a veritable hedge of vines led down to a narrow alley of untrimmed grass hidden in permanent shade.
An ugly vista far from the grand view which lay beyond my bedroom window.
But importantly, one which was hidden from view of the peasants strolling nearby.
I didn't hesitate.
Dangling my foot out, I expertly anchored my weight onto the sturdiest of the vines, then hoisted the rest of myself over. So expertly, in fact, that it almost looked as if I was familiar with utilising walls of vines as a reliable escape method.
A lie, of course. I was a princess, not some countryside baroness. Just as I'd never once climbed the gnarled oak tree outside my window, I'd also never once lowered myself down the vines draped beneath the window of the solar–especially to escape my tutors as they sought out my fleeing form!
“Ooooh ...” Coppelia looked fully awake now. “You can escape from windows instead of dumbly waiting to be rescued? I didn't know princesses were allowed to do that.”
“They are not. Which is why this never happened.”
“Understood! No snoring, no drooling and definitely no climbing out of windows! You've never done any of these things. And if anyone asks, I'll be sure to negotiate my current bribery rates with you first.”
I almost slipped, her bemused voice more dangerous than any flailing vine was.
Opting for the dignity of silence instead, I gracefully proceeded down the vines, the span of a single floor's worth of height merely child's play for someone as naturally gifted as me. The tall, unkempt grass padded my short fall as I dropped the last of the distance.
I looked up, satisfied at Coppelia's astonishment as she peeked her head out the window. Even more so as she broke into light applause.
I smiled, accepting it before I waved her down.
“Come, before we're inevitably waylaid,” I said, turning to the side. “As long as we–hieeee?!”
“Good afternoon,” said the receptionist, her polite smile gleaming in the shadow of this alley. “Once again, I apologise for the sudden interruption. I realise that my presence is unscheduled.”
“Your presence should be beyond the door I just closed! How did you get here?! I'm … I'm reasonably certain I just escaped from you!”
“I have a [Perimeter Detection] spell active around the exterior of the building.”
“You can do that?! How did you locate me in the first place?!”
The receptionist paused.
“Through legal means.”
“It wasn't legal in the slightest, was it?!”
“It's legal in the majority of kingdoms. And the Adventurer's Guild is a multinational organisation.”
I threw on my most dignified scowl. Both that and the finger I pointed at her should have been enough to quell a charging boar, and yet her smile was as unyielding as the smell pervading this alley.
That's it! Once I was no longer thoroughly dissatisfied by her presence, I would immediately requisition her to my personal staff!
“This is unacceptable! I will not be harassed while I'm busy rescuing this kingdom! Whatever technical fault you believe I'm liable for, I refuse to entertain it!”
“Oh, no. Please rest assured that my presence here isn't to administer any sanction. I've here on behalf of Timon Quinsley, the guildmaster of the Reitzlake branch, to negotiate your continued support of the Adventurer's Guild.”
I tightly closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
That my day hadn't even begun and I was already locked in a fierce duel against an approaching headache boded poorly for what lay ahead.
“... Ugh. Very well. Explain to me in five words or fewer why you're here.”
The receptionist looked up in thought.
And then, she nodded to herself in satisfaction.
“I didn't have a choice.”
Hmm.
Not the helpful answer I expected. But not displeasing, either. If she was willing to perform tasks beyond her personal wishes, then it served as an excellent character trait for when I considered her future role at my court.
“And what manner of continued support does your guildmaster wish of me, to necessitate intruding on my time during the late and early … ish hours of the day?”
“Mr. Quinsley acknowledges the prowess demonstrated by you during your short tenure in Reitzlake. Your role in subduing the criminal elements of the city has been documented and confirmed. As such, he would now like to make the resources of the royal capital branch available to you for your endeavours ahead, in recognition of your services to Reitzlake.”
I was stunned.
Naturally, it was a given that the hoodlums I'd swept away like autumn leaves would identify me as the source of their grievance. But had I known that the miserly Adventurer's Guild would acknowledge something which wasn't strictly a commission stuck to a wall, then I would have mentioned it myself!
“In … Indeed?” I peeled away, my interest now slightly above the level of observing an ant crawling across the ground. “Recognition for my sacrifices is certainly welcome … especially as I failed to be properly remunerated for my time … cough, cough.”
“Regrettably, remuneration cannot be provided to commissions without a client. However, special provisions can still be made available to guild members upon the guildmaster's discretion as a form of accolades.”
I waited for her to continue, watching for the serpent's tongue to reveal itself.
I'd expected unfavourable news. And I still did. Offers of delayed compensation did not come without asks for more of my time. And that was a commodity worth more than gold.
“... It would, however, first necessitate changing your registered guild branch from Rolstein to Reitzlake.”
I waited.
And then I continued to wait.
The receptionist failed to add further stipulations. And so I looked on in confusion.
Changing my guild branch? By the tone of her voice, this was the price being asked in exchange for rewards I should have already received by the cartload. And yet I neither knew nor cared that such a thing as a registered guild branch existed.
Rather, that hardly seemed important at all, did it?
The Adventurer's Guild's workings was nomadic by nature. Their members made a nuisance of themselves across the continent, eroding sovereignty at will. Why would it matter where an adventurer was nominally registered to?
I frowned as I considered it.
And then–I broke into a small smile.
Ohhohohohoho …
My … how very cute.
This was commoner politics!
The absolute adorableness. Of course. The Adventurer's Guild was no different to the mercantile guilds, was it?
Just as the branches of the Miner's Guild or the Merchant's Guild competed for profits, so too did the Adventurer's Guild compete for accomplishments.
Of course the royal capital branch would desire my name upon their ranks!
I was, after all, the mysterious beauty who'd upended Reitzlake's criminal underworld! As someone whose promise only matched their angelic appearance, it was only natural that I would be fought over like the last cherry on a gâteau au chocolat fondant … evidenced by the fact they'd sent even their receptionists to hunt me down!
My, the simpleness of commoner politics.
No plots of treason or stealing fae crowns. Just a desire for an additional boast at a downtrodden bar. It was refreshing. Like watching the youngest daughters of nobility attempting their first lies as they complimented each other's dresses.
And that meant … it was time to add to my farm boys-to-heroes fund!
“I see. A troubling ask. And one which will depend wholly on how many crowns entering my bottomless pouch these special provisions entail.”
The receptionist tilted her head slightly.
“Crowns? … Well, usually very little. Or rather, none at all.”
“Excuse me?”
“These special provisions typically entail high quality potions, scrolls, weapons and armour. They're offered to adventurers of high standing or promise, in order to aid or shield them in battles where crowns would hold no value.”
“I want crowns.”
I pointed at the sword by my side, then myself, and then at Coppelia casually lazing on the windowsill as she watched the proceedings below.
“I have no need for anything other than my sword, my genius wits, and my future handmaiden carrying my burdens and occasionally myself. What I do require, however, are premium apples for Apple. He balks at inexpensive ones. As he should. This means I require crowns.”
The receptionist didn't bat an eyelid. A remarkable foe.
“I see. This is a rather unusual stipulation. Ordinarily, adventurers of your standing do not require additional crowns beyond what their commissions provide. It's often the wares which can only be found in our guild stores which they desire most.”
“No. I want crowns.”
The receptionist blinked as she considered my demands.
“I … suppose it would certainly be possible to provide an equivalent value in monetary amounts, if that's deemed the most helpful course of action?”
“Excellent,” I said, offering a flick of my wrist as I turned away. “Then please ensure your guildmaster sufficiently empties his vault by the time I make my grand return. Until then, I have a kingdom to rescue. Farewell.”
“A moment, please. I require your ring to register your new guild branch.”
I gave a quiet sigh as I removed the copper ring continuing to disgrace my slender finger. All the while, I rued that each passing moment now meant the sun becoming closer to setting.
I paused before offering the ring to the receptionist.
“I need to pen a letter,” I said, absolutely having not forgotten. “Do you have a … oh.”
I blinked as a sheet of parchment accompanied by a pot of ink and a quill was immediately presented before my stunned face.
R-Remarkable! That wasn't even magic!
She'd swept out her writing tools faster than a mountain hawk dived for a cottontail rabbit! As ever, my eye for my future staff was impeccable!
I accepted the writing tools in exchange for my rudimentary copper ring. As she proceeded to toy with it, I kneeled atop the grass.
Dearest Mother and Father,
I hope this letter finds you well, and that you've fired the chef responsible for using grated ginger in a sorbet.
My royal tour of the kingdom has been a deeply enlightening experience. Our land glitters as beautifully as the stars which shine above it. As I see to the needs of our people, I note the splendour of our streets, the gentleness of our springs and the music of our songbirds. With each passing day, I feel myself blessed by the tranquillity of our realm, and look forward to the warmth which each new dawn brings.
P.S. I have uprooted the culprit responsible for the ruin of our lowlands, upended the criminal underworld of Reitzlake, negotiated away a fae invasion, quelled the Duchy of Aquina, defeated an A-ranked sword saint and thrown a duck into a mage's face. I have also acquired a clockwork doll as my future handmaiden.
P.P.S. I have hired a troll door guard. Please do not be alarmed when a troll has begun guarding our vault.
Juliette.
I held the letter out, admiring the penmanship as elegant as my words.
Indeed, once my mother and father read this letter, their every concern will be washed away!
“Please mail this for me,” I informed the receptionist, her palm already presenting my copper ring. “The destination is the Royal Villa.”
“The Royal Villa?”
“Yes. Become accustomed to that name. It shall be your workplace in the future. Your skills as both a mage and a purveyor of endless documents shall be put to use.”
“I … I see? I'm afraid I cannot comment while currently employed. But I thank you for your confidence in me.”
The receptionist defaulted to her smile as I exchanged the copper ring for the letter. I immediately considered misplacing it in the grass.
“The transfer is complete,” she stated. “You're now officially registered to the Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild.”
“Excellent. That is utterly meaningless to me. Kindly inform your guildmaster that I expect a sum of crowns equal to every misappropriated artifact he has under his possession. Otherwise, I shall take my choice of registered guild branch elsewhere. I will not have my reputation leeched upon without recompense.”
“I will relay words to that effect, yes.”
Suddenly, the receptionist clapped her hands, squishing my letter between them as she beamed. The lowering of her professional veil. A certain sign of imminent doom.
“By the way, I've also taken the liberty of promoting you to a rank slightly more befitting your demonstrated skill set. I regret that it would be inappropriate for me to do more right now. With that said … congratulations! You've risen to D-rank!”
I instantly dropped the copper ring.
And yet despite that, I could not escape the sound of Coppelia's laughter, echoing long after I'd left both her and the receptionist behind.
I blinked in confusion as I woke up.
Warmth enveloped me. A fine duvet almost as soft as my skin. And a mattress with the elasticity of a chiffon cake baked by myself. It was wonderful. All that blissful comfort absorbing me into the arms of sleep moments after waking up.
And then came the smell.
Cows.
Peasants.
And whatever cows and peasants ate for breakfast, likely from the same bowl.
It was vile. An assault on my senses as loud as my mother's maids as they fearlessly swept me from my bed like a target of their laundry duties.
And so I rose … remembering that this wasn't the Royal Villa. This was not my home. And this was not my bed.
It was an inn in the centre of Aquina.
And that meant the scent of livestock in the morning. And worse, the poverty of those tasked with keeping them.
I stretched as I stood up, turning my eyes away from every direction other than the bed which had cradled me for the night.
Its gleam was undiminished against the shuttered window. An artifact of the storied Fae Realm worth more than any weapon, painting or trinket. The crystal frame glittered as well as any jewel encrusted chandelier. But strangely, not quite as much as the giant key sticking out from Coppelia's back as she lay on her side.
A wide smile ran across her face as she imagined dreams of serving my every whim.
“Nnhghh … nnnghhn …. nnnghhmm … ehehehe … chocolate … custard … in a cornet … nnhhhn ...”
Indeed, she was so enamoured with thoughts of preparing me breakfast that she was already drooling!
Still there was a time and place for my future handmaiden's slovenly appearance. And that time was never.
When she awoke, I'd have to remind her of her duties to public perception.
After all, when I returned to the Royal Villa, every action she performed by my side would be scrutinised. The one and only skill of the treacherous nobility. Decrying even a single wrinkle on the cuffs of my servants.
I had no intention of allowing them that pleasure.
But first …
I leaned over Coppelia, ready to wake her for the day's challenges ahead. Yet again, I expected all the buffoons of this kingdom to trip over themselves in synchronised unison just to make it harder for me to step over them.
But then I paused, seeing her content expression.
And also her … why, yes, I wasn't mistaken … that was indeed drool.
Ugh. I really didn’t want to have to wipe that away again.
“Nnhh … muuhehehehe ...”
I gave a quiet sigh.
The Winter Queen's bed was a fine thing. Not finer than my own bed, of course. But it was a worthy substitute to the … thing which commoners slept on. That wooden frame they called a bed, but which wouldn't pass as a feeding trough for the mares of my stables.
And yet to Coppelia, who'd surely only known the hardship of sleeping on whatever fallen piano had counted as her bed in the Northern Realm of Oddballs, the joy of this bed was akin to experiencing a spot of sunshine having lived in a world of shadows.
And so I waited, admiring the ends of my hair, the reflection of my face in the four-poster's crystal frame, and the sound of the noon bell striking in the distance precisely a dozen times.
Diiing … Diiing … Diiing ...
Hmm.
Interesting.
Why would the noon bell be tolling during early morning?
Aquina couldn't even do the time correctly. Didn't they know the economic ramifications to that? Why, to toll the bell inaccurately in the royal capital would draw the ire of even the stray cats. Businesses relied upon proper timekeeping to function. What use was there in having the noon bell ring while dawn had barely risen?
I slowly tapped my foot against the floorboards.
And then–
“C-Coppelia … !”
“Nnhghh … ?”
“Coppelia! We … We must depart! The time! It's … It's now noon!”
“Itschawho? Wheresch my chocolate cornet go? Did … Did you schee it?”
I reached over and swept aside the duvet.
That's right! It was no time to be sleeping!
Because as the sunlight filtered in through the cracked shutters and idling peasants filled the air with unintelligible chatter outside, I realised we'd been far too careless!
“There's no chocolate cornet! We've overslept! Badly! Come, Coppelia! We must not rest on our laurels!”
That's right!
It was more than tax evaders which sought to cover the Royal Treasury in shadow!
Yes, Aquina had been brought lower than it already was and the fae were now my most recent supplier of furniture, but the foul deeds which threatened my family's bottom line stretched far beyond anything I could fix while oversleeping!
This wasn't my studies or the tea parties arranged by my mother!
I couldn't afford to laze!
“C-Coppelia! Wake up! Pirates in our waters leave our trade ports empty! Monsters cower our merchants from the roads! A hole into the abyss halts our mines! Skirmishes harangue our eastern border!”
I shook her desperately. She peeked a bleary eye at me.
And then–
“Nnnmmh … ehehe … there you are … chocolate cornet … nmmhh ...”
She fell back asleep?!
S-Such a formidable opponent! Even on my best days, I could only ignore the maids until they swept my duvet away!
In that case … there was no other choice!
I raised my hand, directing my floral ring towards the bed.
“[Dismiss Bed].”
Poof.
As suddenly as it appeared, the royal four-poster bed vanished in a puff of white smoke.
Coppelia floated in the air momentarily, her curled up figure comically aloft through pure strength of will before gravity finally plopped her back down.
At last, her eyes finally blinked awake.
She sat up on the wooden floorboards and slowly yawned, stretching her arms above her head as she offered me a lazy smile.
“Morning~”
“... Good morning.”
I waited for consciousness to fully arrive. It did when she clapped her hands together.
“Oh boy, that bed was great! I didn't even know it was possible to swim in a bed! I gotta admit, the Winter Queen has taste. I can feel my cogs turning faster now!”
“Excellent. Because we're behind schedule.”
“Eh? But didn't we do a bunch of stuff already?”
“What we did pales in comparison to what's left to be done. The kingdom's prosperity is in jeopardy to more than mages in scandalous underwear and plotting nobility. If it wasn't, then I never would have left my bedroom.”
“Wow. Sounds rough. Hey, have you ever considered just getting a new kingdom?”
I opened my mouth in horror at the suggestion … that I'd never once considered if this was feasibly possible.
“O-Of course not! Why, not only would that be … probably not possible, but the Kingdom of Tirea is grander than the Emerald Sea. I would … I would never consider abandoning it for greener pastures which do not exist! N-Not at all!”
“You sure? Because if you really want a new kingdom, I know a guy who could help.”
It worried me that I wasn't certain if she was merely joking or not.
“My kingdom is quite enough, thank you. Especially once we've done away with the many leeches seeking to bleed it dry of wealth and prosperity. Are you sufficiently rested now? My boots and your shoes have ample work to do.”
“Is that a suggestion we're going to trample over stuff?”
“Yes, Coppelia, it is.”
“Great! … But maybe after breakfast? Hey, do you want to go for a chocolate cornet?”
“I'm afraid I don't quite know what a chocolate cornet is. Nor do we have the luxury of searching one out while my kingdom is imperilled.”
“It's a sweet roll of pastry filled with chocolate custard. Children eat them in Ouzelia. I'm pretty sure I saw a bakery advertising them on one of the signs outside.”
I pursed my lips.
“We'll need several days' worth of provisions,” I declared.
Coppelia lowered her arms and sat up straight.
“You can count on me,” she said, offering a salute.
“Good. Then let's depart. We've time to make up.”
I nodded, content to meet whatever lowly challenges awaited with both dignity and satisfied appetites. And that meant it was time for Coppelia to secure vital chocolate … vital supplies while I fetched Apple!
Without wasting any more time, I made my way to the door.
For a moment, I wondered why a chair was pushed up against the handle. I paused, looked at it in puzzlement, then pulled it aside so I could leave.
“Good afternoon,” said the young woman standing outside my door, her polite smile as steadfast as her poise. “I apologise for–”
I slammed the door.
Then, I grabbed the chair and returned it to its place blocking the door handle.
That … That wasn't a nightmare?!
The sight of the receptionist from the Adventurer's Guild outside my inn room door wasn't a terrible figment of my imagination, a product of the overbearing smell of barnyard animals and chronic lack of sleep?!
But why?!
She was the receptionist in Reitzlake! Why was she here in Aquina?!
“Is that us being chased for a late check-out fee?” said Coppelia, barely hiding her giggle as she'd doubtless caught a glimpse of who our visitor was.
I nodded as I swept over to the window. I threw open the shutters.
I had no fathomable idea why a receptionist from Reitzlake was here, but every royal instinct was informing me that I didn't need to know!
“Apparently so.” I leaned through the freshly opened window. “We'll have to exit in a more discreet manner.”
The crumbling walls of another hovel immediately greeted me, so close that I could reach it. Beneath, a veritable hedge of vines led down to a narrow alley of untrimmed grass hidden in permanent shade.
An ugly vista far from the grand view which lay beyond my bedroom window.
But importantly, one which was hidden from view of the peasants strolling nearby.
I didn't hesitate.
Dangling my foot out, I expertly anchored my weight onto the sturdiest of the vines, then hoisted the rest of myself over. So expertly, in fact, that it almost looked as if I was familiar with utilising walls of vines as a reliable escape method.
A lie, of course. I was a princess, not some countryside baroness. Just as I'd never once climbed the gnarled oak tree outside my window, I'd also never once lowered myself down the vines draped beneath the window of the solar–especially to escape my tutors as they sought out my fleeing form!
“Ooooh ...” Coppelia looked fully awake now. “You can escape from windows instead of dumbly waiting to be rescued? I didn't know princesses were allowed to do that.”
“They are not. Which is why this never happened.”
“Understood! No snoring, no drooling and definitely no climbing out of windows! You've never done any of these things. And if anyone asks, I'll be sure to negotiate my current bribery rates with you first.”
I almost slipped, her bemused voice more dangerous than any flailing vine was.
Opting for the dignity of silence instead, I gracefully proceeded down the vines, the span of a single floor's worth of height merely child's play for someone as naturally gifted as me. The tall, unkempt grass padded my short fall as I dropped the last of the distance.
I looked up, satisfied at Coppelia's astonishment as she peeked her head out the window. Even more so as she broke into light applause.
I smiled, accepting it before I waved her down.
“Come, before we're inevitably waylaid,” I said, turning to the side. “As long as we–hieeee?!”
“Good afternoon,” said the receptionist, her polite smile gleaming in the shadow of this alley. “Once again, I apologise for the sudden interruption. I realise that my presence is unscheduled.”
“Your presence should be beyond the door I just closed! How did you get here?! I'm … I'm reasonably certain I just escaped from you!”
“I have a [Perimeter Detection] spell active around the exterior of the building.”
“You can do that?! How did you locate me in the first place?!”
The receptionist paused.
“Through legal means.”
“It wasn't legal in the slightest, was it?!”
“It's legal in the majority of kingdoms. And the Adventurer's Guild is a multinational organisation.”
I threw on my most dignified scowl. Both that and the finger I pointed at her should have been enough to quell a charging boar, and yet her smile was as unyielding as the smell pervading this alley.
That's it! Once I was no longer thoroughly dissatisfied by her presence, I would immediately requisition her to my personal staff!
“This is unacceptable! I will not be harassed while I'm busy rescuing this kingdom! Whatever technical fault you believe I'm liable for, I refuse to entertain it!”
“Oh, no. Please rest assured that my presence here isn't to administer any sanction. I've here on behalf of Timon Quinsley, the guildmaster of the Reitzlake branch, to negotiate your continued support of the Adventurer's Guild.”
I tightly closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
That my day hadn't even begun and I was already locked in a fierce duel against an approaching headache boded poorly for what lay ahead.
“... Ugh. Very well. Explain to me in five words or fewer why you're here.”
The receptionist looked up in thought.
And then, she nodded to herself in satisfaction.
“I didn't have a choice.”
Hmm.
Not the helpful answer I expected. But not displeasing, either. If she was willing to perform tasks beyond her personal wishes, then it served as an excellent character trait for when I considered her future role at my court.
“And what manner of continued support does your guildmaster wish of me, to necessitate intruding on my time during the late and early … ish hours of the day?”
“Mr. Quinsley acknowledges the prowess demonstrated by you during your short tenure in Reitzlake. Your role in subduing the criminal elements of the city has been documented and confirmed. As such, he would now like to make the resources of the royal capital branch available to you for your endeavours ahead, in recognition of your services to Reitzlake.”
I was stunned.
Naturally, it was a given that the hoodlums I'd swept away like autumn leaves would identify me as the source of their grievance. But had I known that the miserly Adventurer's Guild would acknowledge something which wasn't strictly a commission stuck to a wall, then I would have mentioned it myself!
“In … Indeed?” I peeled away, my interest now slightly above the level of observing an ant crawling across the ground. “Recognition for my sacrifices is certainly welcome … especially as I failed to be properly remunerated for my time … cough, cough.”
“Regrettably, remuneration cannot be provided to commissions without a client. However, special provisions can still be made available to guild members upon the guildmaster's discretion as a form of accolades.”
I waited for her to continue, watching for the serpent's tongue to reveal itself.
I'd expected unfavourable news. And I still did. Offers of delayed compensation did not come without asks for more of my time. And that was a commodity worth more than gold.
“... It would, however, first necessitate changing your registered guild branch from Rolstein to Reitzlake.”
I waited.
And then I continued to wait.
The receptionist failed to add further stipulations. And so I looked on in confusion.
Changing my guild branch? By the tone of her voice, this was the price being asked in exchange for rewards I should have already received by the cartload. And yet I neither knew nor cared that such a thing as a registered guild branch existed.
Rather, that hardly seemed important at all, did it?
The Adventurer's Guild's workings was nomadic by nature. Their members made a nuisance of themselves across the continent, eroding sovereignty at will. Why would it matter where an adventurer was nominally registered to?
I frowned as I considered it.
And then–I broke into a small smile.
Ohhohohohoho …
My … how very cute.
This was commoner politics!
The absolute adorableness. Of course. The Adventurer's Guild was no different to the mercantile guilds, was it?
Just as the branches of the Miner's Guild or the Merchant's Guild competed for profits, so too did the Adventurer's Guild compete for accomplishments.
Of course the royal capital branch would desire my name upon their ranks!
I was, after all, the mysterious beauty who'd upended Reitzlake's criminal underworld! As someone whose promise only matched their angelic appearance, it was only natural that I would be fought over like the last cherry on a gâteau au chocolat fondant … evidenced by the fact they'd sent even their receptionists to hunt me down!
My, the simpleness of commoner politics.
No plots of treason or stealing fae crowns. Just a desire for an additional boast at a downtrodden bar. It was refreshing. Like watching the youngest daughters of nobility attempting their first lies as they complimented each other's dresses.
And that meant … it was time to add to my farm boys-to-heroes fund!
“I see. A troubling ask. And one which will depend wholly on how many crowns entering my bottomless pouch these special provisions entail.”
The receptionist tilted her head slightly.
“Crowns? … Well, usually very little. Or rather, none at all.”
“Excuse me?”
“These special provisions typically entail high quality potions, scrolls, weapons and armour. They're offered to adventurers of high standing or promise, in order to aid or shield them in battles where crowns would hold no value.”
“I want crowns.”
I pointed at the sword by my side, then myself, and then at Coppelia casually lazing on the windowsill as she watched the proceedings below.
“I have no need for anything other than my sword, my genius wits, and my future handmaiden carrying my burdens and occasionally myself. What I do require, however, are premium apples for Apple. He balks at inexpensive ones. As he should. This means I require crowns.”
The receptionist didn't bat an eyelid. A remarkable foe.
“I see. This is a rather unusual stipulation. Ordinarily, adventurers of your standing do not require additional crowns beyond what their commissions provide. It's often the wares which can only be found in our guild stores which they desire most.”
“No. I want crowns.”
The receptionist blinked as she considered my demands.
“I … suppose it would certainly be possible to provide an equivalent value in monetary amounts, if that's deemed the most helpful course of action?”
“Excellent,” I said, offering a flick of my wrist as I turned away. “Then please ensure your guildmaster sufficiently empties his vault by the time I make my grand return. Until then, I have a kingdom to rescue. Farewell.”
“A moment, please. I require your ring to register your new guild branch.”
I gave a quiet sigh as I removed the copper ring continuing to disgrace my slender finger. All the while, I rued that each passing moment now meant the sun becoming closer to setting.
I paused before offering the ring to the receptionist.
“I need to pen a letter,” I said, absolutely having not forgotten. “Do you have a … oh.”
I blinked as a sheet of parchment accompanied by a pot of ink and a quill was immediately presented before my stunned face.
R-Remarkable! That wasn't even magic!
She'd swept out her writing tools faster than a mountain hawk dived for a cottontail rabbit! As ever, my eye for my future staff was impeccable!
I accepted the writing tools in exchange for my rudimentary copper ring. As she proceeded to toy with it, I kneeled atop the grass.
Dearest Mother and Father,
I hope this letter finds you well, and that you've fired the chef responsible for using grated ginger in a sorbet.
My royal tour of the kingdom has been a deeply enlightening experience. Our land glitters as beautifully as the stars which shine above it. As I see to the needs of our people, I note the splendour of our streets, the gentleness of our springs and the music of our songbirds. With each passing day, I feel myself blessed by the tranquillity of our realm, and look forward to the warmth which each new dawn brings.
P.S. I have uprooted the culprit responsible for the ruin of our lowlands, upended the criminal underworld of Reitzlake, negotiated away a fae invasion, quelled the Duchy of Aquina, defeated an A-ranked sword saint and thrown a duck into a mage's face. I have also acquired a clockwork doll as my future handmaiden.
P.P.S. I have hired a troll door guard. Please do not be alarmed when a troll has begun guarding our vault.
Juliette.
I held the letter out, admiring the penmanship as elegant as my words.
Indeed, once my mother and father read this letter, their every concern will be washed away!
“Please mail this for me,” I informed the receptionist, her palm already presenting my copper ring. “The destination is the Royal Villa.”
“The Royal Villa?”
“Yes. Become accustomed to that name. It shall be your workplace in the future. Your skills as both a mage and a purveyor of endless documents shall be put to use.”
“I … I see? I'm afraid I cannot comment while currently employed. But I thank you for your confidence in me.”
The receptionist defaulted to her smile as I exchanged the copper ring for the letter. I immediately considered misplacing it in the grass.
“The transfer is complete,” she stated. “You're now officially registered to the Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild.”
“Excellent. That is utterly meaningless to me. Kindly inform your guildmaster that I expect a sum of crowns equal to every misappropriated artifact he has under his possession. Otherwise, I shall take my choice of registered guild branch elsewhere. I will not have my reputation leeched upon without recompense.”
“I will relay words to that effect, yes.”
Suddenly, the receptionist clapped her hands, squishing my letter between them as she beamed. The lowering of her professional veil. A certain sign of imminent doom.
“By the way, I've also taken the liberty of promoting you to a rank slightly more befitting your demonstrated skill set. I regret that it would be inappropriate for me to do more right now. With that said … congratulations! You've risen to D-rank!”
I instantly dropped the copper ring.
And yet despite that, I could not escape the sound of Coppelia's laughter, echoing long after I'd left both her and the receptionist behind.
