The Royal Villa was a grand monument to opulence. Though outwardly little more than a countryside manor, it was no lord’s holding or duke’s summer retreat.
It was the home of kings and queens. And behind its modest walls resided more treasures than could be found anywhere else in the kingdom.
Though lesser in size than the Golden Palace of the Dunes or the White Tower in Granholtz, the official residence of the Contzen family possessed enough riches to rival the abodes of any rival royalty across the continent.
No small feat, considering the kingdom’s overall wealth paled against its neighbours.
Throughout the gardens of this fine estate, white marble busts, priceless artwork still on their easels and blessed fountains unofficially borrowed from various cathedrals could be found gleaming beneath the spring sunshine. And yet few opportunists and thieves ever sought to test the knights who patrolled the grounds.
Because when the price of theft was death, all chose the greater prize instead.
Hidden beneath the earth, the royal vault was said to contain more crowns, jewels and artifacts than even the official treasury in Reitzlake.
For centuries, burglars had tried and failed, usually to gruesome effect, to part the riches from this chamber. It was not unusual for the magical alarms to ring throughout the grounds in the dead of night, only for a pile of ash and a wayward thumb to be discovered beside it.
And throughout the history of a Contzen sitting the throne, that was the accepted state of things.
Until recently.
These days, it was rare for even a mouse to disturb the vault door. And it was neither due to the hiring of Pebbles or the long succession of failures finally inducing some sense into the criminal fraternity.
No. It was due to the presence of an even greater and obvious treasure. One which wasn’t guarded by an imposing vault door sealed with deadly enchantments.
The treasure … was an enormous golden telescope.
A thing of refined beauty, engineering marvel and financial obscenity, it protruded from the glittering domed observatory which constituted the most recent addition to the Royal Villa.
Using all 62 collapsible inches of the golden frame as its conduit, the telescope’s magical lens was capable of surpassing the issue of clouds by simply peering through them altogether.
What few knew, however, was that this telescope represented more than a peek into the cosmos. It was a product of the observatory itself.
Part workshop, part library and part labyrinth of odd socks, this domed tower was the origin of some of the most intricate mechanisms ever conceived.
Indeed, it was more than acid traps and armed guards which defended the wealth of the kingdom. A myriad of lethal contraptions beyond the minds of even the most perverse criminals were created in the observatory. And this meant it was the only place in the Royal Villa exempt from the daily cleaning ritual of the maids.
A problem, then.
Because within the observatory, unseen by all, a crisis was occurring.
A beautiful maiden was collapsed on the floor, her fine dress of black velvet lined with crushed pearls dishevelled against the oaken panelling.
Alone and unaided, this young woman’s fragile figure trembled as she willed herself to crawl across the floor, a hand against her stomach as she fought to stave off the darkness blurring her vision. Should she close her eyes and succumb to the whispering bliss, she would never see daylight again.
“Ugghh … uhhh … uuuuughhh …”
Which is why–
She crawled, dragging her unresponsive legs as she summoned the last of her willpower.
With an effort to outdo even the heroism of the kingdom’s knights, she reached the door and stopped. She hadn’t the strength to raise herself and open it. But she didn’t need to. Her objective was closer. Mercifully so.
Her hand trembling, she reached out with the last of her wilting strength.
Perhaps if this were anyone else, she would have long surrendered to the dark promise of relief.
But this was no ordinary woman. And she would suffer no ordinary death.
She was Clarise Contzen, 2nd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. And she had far too many years to give to meet her demise before accomplishing even a fraction of her life’s endeavours.
And so, she reached for the platter of orange and ginger cupcakes with chocolate frosting, the confectionary pushed inside by the sheer volume of other plates behind it.
Grabbing a cupcake in her shaking hand, she used the last of her strength to bring it towards her mouth.
Before finally–
“Om nom nom nom …”
She crammed it fully inside.
Unbeholden to any rules of etiquette in her sanctum, she began roughly chewing, drawing enough life from the first bite to reach for the next cupcake. And then the next. And then the next.
Desperately shoving nourishment into her body, she could feel colour returning to her vision with each swallow of cupcake. Yes, even if they were slightly too zesty. The added shavings of orange peel on top were highly unnecessary. But she could let it be. It wasn’t the exact calibration of tartness to sweetness she wanted, after all. It was the high concentration of fats and sugars.
Because Princess Clarise Contzen was a genius.
And geniuses sometimes forgot to eat. Maybe even for several days.
“... ack, hack … uck … ughh …”
As her empty tummy filled, she coughed into renewed life like a drowning swimmer brought back from the depths.
And then she crawled slightly further, pushing aside the platter of cupcakes to assess the accumulated breakfasts, lunches, dinners and snacks which sat untouched.
Shoved through the dedicated service flap of her door, she viewed the array of cold meals she ignored. To her, the sound of food sliding into her observatory was an unnecessary distraction. She’d done away with all her timekeeping pieces for a reason. To be able to glean which hour of the day it was from when the maids delivered her meals was an unwelcome reminder of how little she slept.
This was also why she didn’t have any mirrors in her observatory.
Though her royal lineage afforded her much when it came to natural beauty, it didn’t involve being impervious to shadows beneath her eyes. And so it was that when the door to her observatory flung open, she could only recoil beneath the expressionless glares of the maids looking down at her crawling figure with their sharp eyes and immaculate uniforms.
Clarise swallowed the remaining cupcake in her mouth, then attempted to appear regal as she looked up at the maids from her spot on the floor.
She failed.
“Were you not supposed to knock before entering?” she queried.
“We did, Your Highness. We’ve been knocking for over an hour.”
“Oh.”
Clarise nodded.
So that’s what the noise was. She thought it was knocking, but knocking usually finished after she ignored it the first time. That it kept continuing made her believe that some sort of scuffle or battle was occurring outside.
In short, nothing important.
“Very well. It must be of grave importance if you’ve deemed it necessary to open the door to my observatory without my permission. What is the matter? I still need to complete my self-cooling pillow.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. However, the King and Queen have requested your presence for breakfast.”
Clarise blinked, then peered past the legs of the maids.
She witnessed the morning glow streaming into the corridor. It always surprised her when she realised what time it was. Despite her observatory being a window to the stars, she didn’t actually possess any windows.
She gave it a moment’s thought.
It was rare for her mother and father to try to usher her to the dining table. That was a battle they’d surrendered long ago. If they were requesting her, then it was reasonable to assume they needed something important made to order.
Clarise didn’t throw herself into politics like Florella and Roland did, or in warfare like Damien. She kept to herself and her own endeavours.
She was much more similar to Juliette in that regard. Except that unlike her younger sister, her endeavours weren’t in raising flowers, but fabricating new contraptions–even if sometimes, they came with mildly cursed side effects.
And this meant adhering to the occasional request. Obligingly, as well.
It was the least she could do. That telescope was exorbitantly expensive. Likely more than any treasure or artifact kept in the vault.
“Very well. Please carry me to the dining table.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
At once, the maids–all four of them–swept into the observatory.
Avoiding the trapped acid panels with practised ease, they gathered around Clarise’s fallen figure without question, then grabbed her by the arms and legs.
With the professionalism of seasoned fishermen carrying a 100 pound trout, they raised the young princess by her limbs, then began to carry her down the corridor, then the winding steps to the main residence where the dining chamber was located.
Not a single head turned at the sight of her being carried through the hallways. The servants and the guards had long become accustomed to the sight of her being gallantly lifted to her destination. And she in turn became used to their indifference.
Only one gave her a second look. And she responded in kind.
“Good morning,” said the passing 8 foot, lumbering, armoured troll, politely turning his back to the wall so she and her maids could slip past.
“Good morning,” replied Clarise with a nod of her head.
She thought for a moment, then wriggled about for the maids to stop. They did, allowing her to remain suspended in the air as she studied the troll with a puzzled look.
True. It’d been some time since she’d last ventured out of her observatory. But she most certainly didn’t recall trolls regularly moving about the inner grounds. At least not unaccompanied by a healthy escort of extremely unkeen guards.
A peculiar sight.
“Excuse me, but is a caravan from Troll Country currently visiting the villa?”
“I do not believe so, ma’am. I’d have been informed as a courtesy. If you’re querying my presence, however, then it’s because I’ve recently taken up employment in the Royal Villa.”
“Oh, truly? Then I bid you welcome. Are you enjoying the villa so far?”
“Quite so. I had to be reminded of my break obligations. Your vault door is very fine. Of the highest standard, in fact. It was suggested that I familiarise myself with the rest of the grounds, but I may simply opt to take my mandatory breaks in front of the vault door instead.”
“Excellent. Well, then, I hope you continue to take pride in your duties.”
Clarise nodded, then motioned for her maids to continue. They set off at a tidy pace.
Before long, the doors to the dining chamber opened up before her. Her mother and father were already sat by the table, nibbling on the entrée as they engaged in a heated argument over matters of statecraft.
“Dear, we simply cannot hold a funeral for your mother,” said the king, his fork discreetly picking out the vegetables from the salad as he ate only the croutons. “She’s still alive.”
“I hardly see what relevance that has on anything. The old miser’s already dead of heart.”
“I’m just saying that she seems perfectly healthy. Why, she even attempted to join the joust at the Summer Solstice Festival incognito. I was rather sad she was caught.”
“As was I. A joust would have made your protests regarding a funeral redundant.”
“Come now, dear. It seems rather distasteful to hold a funeral for someone who hasn’t yet gloated her last laugh. Besides, if word reaches her ears, and they certainly will, I imagine both you and I will need to change the funeral arrangements to fit our corpses instead.”
“Why? What will she do? Harangue us with complaints about the colour of our drapes until we die of boredom? No, better be done with the formalities sooner rather than later. A simple eulogy will do. Perhaps a quick burial.”
“With or without music?”
“Without, of course. She’ll have enough in her coffin to pay for any troubadours. And they’ll be plenty. Vultures in every meaning of the word.”
As the king and queen’s regal voices resounded through the chamber, the maids released their charge.
They were still uncrumpling Clarise’s dress even as she took her seat at the table.
“Good morning, Mother, Father. I apologise for my lack of punctuality. I was enamoured with my work.”
“Dear!” said her mother, the smile she wore different to the one she showed the man beside her. “Wonderful. We were just discussing something important.”
“Grandmother’s funeral?”
“Well, yes, that. And make no mistake, this conversation is far from over. But there was something else before that. Here. Juliette sent a letter home.”
“Juliette?”
Clarise’s interest perked up as an envelope was pushed across the table. She hadn’t been expecting this. Why, she even momentarily forgot about the … what was it? Something highly dangerous she needed to keep tabs on. She even wrote it down. Somewhere.
She frowned, tilted her head, then shrugged.
If farmlands started burning again, the peasants would let her know.
As usual.
Clarise picked up the envelope and opened it. A waft of wet grass and … raw agriculture met her as she pulled out the letter, causing her to wrinkle her nose as her eyes swept down the neat handwriting
A hum later, she looked between her parents and nodded.
“Fascinating. Juliette says she threw a duck into a mage’s face.”
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Her mother beamed. “That girl doesn’t so much as lift herself out of bed. To think she’s throwing aquatic birds now. I’m satisfied. Perhaps when she returns, she’ll feel invigorated enough to take to her studies with the same earnestness you do.”
Clarise nodded in hope, although in truth, she didn’t believe that was likely. Her younger sister was far more interested in popular fiction than she was in treatises and grimoires.
Then again, she didn’t believe Juliette would be the type to wander off on a personal tour of the kingdom, either. But she always did precisely what she wanted and little else besides. She may be the youngest of them, but hers was a will that only their tutors could best.
Usually with a very thick tome.
Clarise peered down at the letter again.
“She also says she’s exposed the culprit behind the troubles in the lowlands, upended Reitzlake’s criminal underworld, negotiated away a fae invasion, quelled the Duchy of Aquina, defeated an A-rank sword saint and acquired a clockwork doll as a handmaiden.”
Her father chuckled, his plate mysteriously reappearing from beneath the table, now shorn of leafy greens and vegetables.
“Quite astonishing, isn’t it? … A clockwork doll! Juliette’s barely left the nest and she’s already requisitioning attendants. We needn’t have feared. She truly is a princess of our loins.”
Clarise hummed.
“To have a clockwork doll as her handmaiden is truly something. I’ve wished to see one in person for quite some time. Perhaps when Juliette safely returns, she’ll agree to allow me a peek inside her new attendant?”
“Well now, that’s the thing. Your mother and I share some slight concerns regarding Juliette’s activities.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Specifically, they’re a little bit more, ah, what’s the word … alarmingly perilous, than we imagined? Is that correct, muffin?”
“It is, yes. Juliette merely stated she’d be undertaking a royal tour. While we had concerns that she really isn’t suited to the outdoors, or anything for that matter, we had little doubt she could frighten away any farm animal or peasant which tried to accost her. This, however–”
Her mother pointed to the back of the held letter.
“–this goes quite beyond the circular meandering of clean meadows and urban streets we envisaged. The smell from that letter. Quite hideous. The steward believes it to be derived from the workings of a cow. He needn’t have told us. I could smell Aquina’s odour like Roland’s horseplay.”
Clarise didn’t need to take another sniff to agree. She kept her nose turned away, even as her eyes remained on the letter.
“I see. Should the knights be dispatched to retrieve her, then?”
“Goodness, no,” said her father. “It wouldn’t be right to haul her back when she’s finally exited her bedroom. The learning experience will be truly priceless. With that said, some prudence is still necessary. Especially if she’s intent on having a word with miscreants.”
“It sounds like she’s doing rather more than that. Are we certain everything she’s written is … well, accurate? She may be misinterpreting information. Significantly so.”
Frankly, all Clarise could glean from this letter was that Juliette had either joined a travelling troupe intent on playing out her wishes, or that her reading material had utterly warped her sense of general knowledge.
“As certain as we can be. The reports I’m hearing are more fantastical by the hour. The blighted crops have begun to recede in the lowlands. Crime is down on all counts in Reitzlake. The snow has dissipated from our lumbermills … and Duke Valence is nowhere to be found. Aquina’s soldiers have stood down. A truly remarkable change of fortunes, but no less than what we expect when any of you munchkins are even slightly involved. We believe the world of you all. And now we may no longer need to sell your grandmother’s portrait!”
Clarise did not share in that confidence.
In fact, she could scarcely believe the words she was hearing.
She was aware of the ills haunting the kingdom, of course. And they were many. Too many for them to handle, even together. Part of the reason she worked so tirelessly throughout the day and night was to devise a means to defend the kingdom should the worst come to pass.
Was it something to do with this clockwork doll, perhaps? Some mysterious heroine from Ouzelia she was accompanying? That would be a safer interpretation. As much as she wished to believe that her younger sister could have achieved a fraction of all this, it seemed highly farfetched. Even thinking about how it was possible caused her head to ache.
Thus, she brought a glass of amber wine towards her instead.
Her father did the same, all the while chuckling at the sight. Clarise rarely drank. And for good reason. Everyone’s safety was at risk.
“Now, as I was saying, prudence,” he continued. “If our little Juliette is at all involved in any of this, then she’ll need a spot of help. Nothing too intrusive, of course. You know how she’ll react. With that said, would you happen to have anything on hand? Preferably with a bit of … subtlety?”
“... Subtlety?”
“Indeed! We could order a courier to surreptitiously drop something in her path. Have you anything which explodes slightly less than normal?”
Clarise’s response was to blink.
All she had was her observatory, her lack of timekeeping, and her ability to create cursed objects and, yes … large explosions. Her last invention was both. A candle bright enough to cause temporary (?) blindness to any who saw it, as well as badly singe their eyebrows in the process when the magma orb inside uncontrollably expanded.
She rather doubted that any of these things could help Juliette in a pinch. She certainly didn’t want to be responsible for damaging her eyebrows. The thought almost made her faint as much as malnutrition.
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe anything I have on hand is suitable for field use. I’d have to make major modifications, perform safety tests and if necessary, make something from scratch.”
“Oh, then it’s quite fine. We’ll work something out. Perhaps something from the vault.”
Clarise felt more than a drop of frustration with herself.
She had plenty of proof of concepts, but small, portable and reliable instruments of lethality were not really her speciality. After all, everything described was a dagger. And as far as she knew, Juliette had at least left the Royal Villa carrying her heirloom sword.
Her mother, seeing her despondent reaction, smiled kindly.
“Don’t worry. There will be plenty of opportunities for your work to aid the kingdom. Not just Juliette.”
“Mother …”
“And if there isn’t, well, that’s also fine. In fact, now that you’re finally out of that tower, there’s also another matter which needs addressing. Since Juliette now has a legitimate excuse to avoid marriage, it’s now back to your turn for that discussion to–”
Clarise immediately stood up, vigour flowing through her veins as she scrunched the letter in her hands.
She had her observatory, her lack of timekeeping, and her ability to create cursed objects and large explosions!
Surely … one of these things could help Juliette!
The Royal Villa was a grand monument to opulence. Though outwardly little more than a countryside manor, it was no lord’s holding or duke’s summer retreat.
It was the home of kings and queens. And behind its modest walls resided more treasures than could be found anywhere else in the kingdom.
Though lesser in size than the Golden Palace of the Dunes or the White Tower in Granholtz, the official residence of the Contzen family possessed enough riches to rival the abodes of any rival royalty across the continent.
No small feat, considering the kingdom’s overall wealth paled against its neighbours.
Throughout the gardens of this fine estate, white marble busts, priceless artwork still on their easels and blessed fountains unofficially borrowed from various cathedrals could be found gleaming beneath the spring sunshine. And yet few opportunists and thieves ever sought to test the knights who patrolled the grounds.
Because when the price of theft was death, all chose the greater prize instead.
Hidden beneath the earth, the royal vault was said to contain more crowns, jewels and artifacts than even the official treasury in Reitzlake.
For centuries, burglars had tried and failed, usually to gruesome effect, to part the riches from this chamber. It was not unusual for the magical alarms to ring throughout the grounds in the dead of night, only for a pile of ash and a wayward thumb to be discovered beside it.
And throughout the history of a Contzen sitting the throne, that was the accepted state of things.
Until recently.
These days, it was rare for even a mouse to disturb the vault door. And it was neither due to the hiring of Pebbles or the long succession of failures finally inducing some sense into the criminal fraternity.
No. It was due to the presence of an even greater and obvious treasure. One which wasn’t guarded by an imposing vault door sealed with deadly enchantments.
The treasure … was an enormous golden telescope.
A thing of refined beauty, engineering marvel and financial obscenity, it protruded from the glittering domed observatory which constituted the most recent addition to the Royal Villa.
Using all 62 collapsible inches of the golden frame as its conduit, the telescope’s magical lens was capable of surpassing the issue of clouds by simply peering through them altogether.
What few knew, however, was that this telescope represented more than a peek into the cosmos. It was a product of the observatory itself.
Part workshop, part library and part labyrinth of odd socks, this domed tower was the origin of some of the most intricate mechanisms ever conceived.
Indeed, it was more than acid traps and armed guards which defended the wealth of the kingdom. A myriad of lethal contraptions beyond the minds of even the most perverse criminals were created in the observatory. And this meant it was the only place in the Royal Villa exempt from the daily cleaning ritual of the maids.
A problem, then.
Because within the observatory, unseen by all, a crisis was occurring.
A beautiful maiden was collapsed on the floor, her fine dress of black velvet lined with crushed pearls dishevelled against the oaken panelling.
Alone and unaided, this young woman’s fragile figure trembled as she willed herself to crawl across the floor, a hand against her stomach as she fought to stave off the darkness blurring her vision. Should she close her eyes and succumb to the whispering bliss, she would never see daylight again.
“Ugghh … uhhh … uuuuughhh …”
Which is why–
She crawled, dragging her unresponsive legs as she summoned the last of her willpower.
With an effort to outdo even the heroism of the kingdom’s knights, she reached the door and stopped. She hadn’t the strength to raise herself and open it. But she didn’t need to. Her objective was closer. Mercifully so.
Her hand trembling, she reached out with the last of her wilting strength.
Perhaps if this were anyone else, she would have long surrendered to the dark promise of relief.
But this was no ordinary woman. And she would suffer no ordinary death.
She was Clarise Contzen, 2nd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. And she had far too many years to give to meet her demise before accomplishing even a fraction of her life’s endeavours.
And so, she reached for the platter of orange and ginger cupcakes with chocolate frosting, the confectionary pushed inside by the sheer volume of other plates behind it.
Grabbing a cupcake in her shaking hand, she used the last of her strength to bring it towards her mouth.
Before finally–
“Om nom nom nom …”
She crammed it fully inside.
Unbeholden to any rules of etiquette in her sanctum, she began roughly chewing, drawing enough life from the first bite to reach for the next cupcake. And then the next. And then the next.
Desperately shoving nourishment into her body, she could feel colour returning to her vision with each swallow of cupcake. Yes, even if they were slightly too zesty. The added shavings of orange peel on top were highly unnecessary. But she could let it be. It wasn’t the exact calibration of tartness to sweetness she wanted, after all. It was the high concentration of fats and sugars.
Because Princess Clarise Contzen was a genius.
And geniuses sometimes forgot to eat. Maybe even for several days.
“... ack, hack … uck … ughh …”
As her empty tummy filled, she coughed into renewed life like a drowning swimmer brought back from the depths.
And then she crawled slightly further, pushing aside the platter of cupcakes to assess the accumulated breakfasts, lunches, dinners and snacks which sat untouched.
Shoved through the dedicated service flap of her door, she viewed the array of cold meals she ignored. To her, the sound of food sliding into her observatory was an unnecessary distraction. She’d done away with all her timekeeping pieces for a reason. To be able to glean which hour of the day it was from when the maids delivered her meals was an unwelcome reminder of how little she slept.
This was also why she didn’t have any mirrors in her observatory.
Though her royal lineage afforded her much when it came to natural beauty, it didn’t involve being impervious to shadows beneath her eyes. And so it was that when the door to her observatory flung open, she could only recoil beneath the expressionless glares of the maids looking down at her crawling figure with their sharp eyes and immaculate uniforms.
Clarise swallowed the remaining cupcake in her mouth, then attempted to appear regal as she looked up at the maids from her spot on the floor.
She failed.
“Were you not supposed to knock before entering?” she queried.
“We did, Your Highness. We’ve been knocking for over an hour.”
“Oh.”
Clarise nodded.
So that’s what the noise was. She thought it was knocking, but knocking usually finished after she ignored it the first time. That it kept continuing made her believe that some sort of scuffle or battle was occurring outside.
In short, nothing important.
“Very well. It must be of grave importance if you’ve deemed it necessary to open the door to my observatory without my permission. What is the matter? I still need to complete my self-cooling pillow.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. However, the King and Queen have requested your presence for breakfast.”
Clarise blinked, then peered past the legs of the maids.
She witnessed the morning glow streaming into the corridor. It always surprised her when she realised what time it was. Despite her observatory being a window to the stars, she didn’t actually possess any windows.
She gave it a moment’s thought.
It was rare for her mother and father to try to usher her to the dining table. That was a battle they’d surrendered long ago. If they were requesting her, then it was reasonable to assume they needed something important made to order.
Clarise didn’t throw herself into politics like Florella and Roland did, or in warfare like Damien. She kept to herself and her own endeavours.
She was much more similar to Juliette in that regard. Except that unlike her younger sister, her endeavours weren’t in raising flowers, but fabricating new contraptions–even if sometimes, they came with mildly cursed side effects.
And this meant adhering to the occasional request. Obligingly, as well.
It was the least she could do. That telescope was exorbitantly expensive. Likely more than any treasure or artifact kept in the vault.
“Very well. Please carry me to the dining table.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
At once, the maids–all four of them–swept into the observatory.
Avoiding the trapped acid panels with practised ease, they gathered around Clarise’s fallen figure without question, then grabbed her by the arms and legs.
With the professionalism of seasoned fishermen carrying a 100 pound trout, they raised the young princess by her limbs, then began to carry her down the corridor, then the winding steps to the main residence where the dining chamber was located.
Not a single head turned at the sight of her being carried through the hallways. The servants and the guards had long become accustomed to the sight of her being gallantly lifted to her destination. And she in turn became used to their indifference.
Only one gave her a second look. And she responded in kind.
“Good morning,” said the passing 8 foot, lumbering, armoured troll, politely turning his back to the wall so she and her maids could slip past.
“Good morning,” replied Clarise with a nod of her head.
She thought for a moment, then wriggled about for the maids to stop. They did, allowing her to remain suspended in the air as she studied the troll with a puzzled look.
True. It’d been some time since she’d last ventured out of her observatory. But she most certainly didn’t recall trolls regularly moving about the inner grounds. At least not unaccompanied by a healthy escort of extremely unkeen guards.
A peculiar sight.
“Excuse me, but is a caravan from Troll Country currently visiting the villa?”
“I do not believe so, ma’am. I’d have been informed as a courtesy. If you’re querying my presence, however, then it’s because I’ve recently taken up employment in the Royal Villa.”
“Oh, truly? Then I bid you welcome. Are you enjoying the villa so far?”
“Quite so. I had to be reminded of my break obligations. Your vault door is very fine. Of the highest standard, in fact. It was suggested that I familiarise myself with the rest of the grounds, but I may simply opt to take my mandatory breaks in front of the vault door instead.”
“Excellent. Well, then, I hope you continue to take pride in your duties.”
Clarise nodded, then motioned for her maids to continue. They set off at a tidy pace.
Before long, the doors to the dining chamber opened up before her. Her mother and father were already sat by the table, nibbling on the entrée as they engaged in a heated argument over matters of statecraft.
“Dear, we simply cannot hold a funeral for your mother,” said the king, his fork discreetly picking out the vegetables from the salad as he ate only the croutons. “She’s still alive.”
“I hardly see what relevance that has on anything. The old miser’s already dead of heart.”
“I’m just saying that she seems perfectly healthy. Why, she even attempted to join the joust at the Summer Solstice Festival incognito. I was rather sad she was caught.”
“As was I. A joust would have made your protests regarding a funeral redundant.”
“Come now, dear. It seems rather distasteful to hold a funeral for someone who hasn’t yet gloated her last laugh. Besides, if word reaches her ears, and they certainly will, I imagine both you and I will need to change the funeral arrangements to fit our corpses instead.”
“Why? What will she do? Harangue us with complaints about the colour of our drapes until we die of boredom? No, better be done with the formalities sooner rather than later. A simple eulogy will do. Perhaps a quick burial.”
“With or without music?”
“Without, of course. She’ll have enough in her coffin to pay for any troubadours. And they’ll be plenty. Vultures in every meaning of the word.”
As the king and queen’s regal voices resounded through the chamber, the maids released their charge.
They were still uncrumpling Clarise’s dress even as she took her seat at the table.
“Good morning, Mother, Father. I apologise for my lack of punctuality. I was enamoured with my work.”
“Dear!” said her mother, the smile she wore different to the one she showed the man beside her. “Wonderful. We were just discussing something important.”
“Grandmother’s funeral?”
“Well, yes, that. And make no mistake, this conversation is far from over. But there was something else before that. Here. Juliette sent a letter home.”
“Juliette?”
Clarise’s interest perked up as an envelope was pushed across the table. She hadn’t been expecting this. Why, she even momentarily forgot about the … what was it? Something highly dangerous she needed to keep tabs on. She even wrote it down. Somewhere.
She frowned, tilted her head, then shrugged.
If farmlands started burning again, the peasants would let her know.
As usual.
Clarise picked up the envelope and opened it. A waft of wet grass and … raw agriculture met her as she pulled out the letter, causing her to wrinkle her nose as her eyes swept down the neat handwriting
A hum later, she looked between her parents and nodded.
“Fascinating. Juliette says she threw a duck into a mage’s face.”
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Her mother beamed. “That girl doesn’t so much as lift herself out of bed. To think she’s throwing aquatic birds now. I’m satisfied. Perhaps when she returns, she’ll feel invigorated enough to take to her studies with the same earnestness you do.”
Clarise nodded in hope, although in truth, she didn’t believe that was likely. Her younger sister was far more interested in popular fiction than she was in treatises and grimoires.
Then again, she didn’t believe Juliette would be the type to wander off on a personal tour of the kingdom, either. But she always did precisely what she wanted and little else besides. She may be the youngest of them, but hers was a will that only their tutors could best.
Usually with a very thick tome.
Clarise peered down at the letter again.
“She also says she’s exposed the culprit behind the troubles in the lowlands, upended Reitzlake’s criminal underworld, negotiated away a fae invasion, quelled the Duchy of Aquina, defeated an A-rank sword saint and acquired a clockwork doll as a handmaiden.”
Her father chuckled, his plate mysteriously reappearing from beneath the table, now shorn of leafy greens and vegetables.
“Quite astonishing, isn’t it? … A clockwork doll! Juliette’s barely left the nest and she’s already requisitioning attendants. We needn’t have feared. She truly is a princess of our loins.”
Clarise hummed.
“To have a clockwork doll as her handmaiden is truly something. I’ve wished to see one in person for quite some time. Perhaps when Juliette safely returns, she’ll agree to allow me a peek inside her new attendant?”
“Well now, that’s the thing. Your mother and I share some slight concerns regarding Juliette’s activities.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Specifically, they’re a little bit more, ah, what’s the word … alarmingly perilous, than we imagined? Is that correct, muffin?”
“It is, yes. Juliette merely stated she’d be undertaking a royal tour. While we had concerns that she really isn’t suited to the outdoors, or anything for that matter, we had little doubt she could frighten away any farm animal or peasant which tried to accost her. This, however–”
Her mother pointed to the back of the held letter.
“–this goes quite beyond the circular meandering of clean meadows and urban streets we envisaged. The smell from that letter. Quite hideous. The steward believes it to be derived from the workings of a cow. He needn’t have told us. I could smell Aquina’s odour like Roland’s horseplay.”
Clarise didn’t need to take another sniff to agree. She kept her nose turned away, even as her eyes remained on the letter.
“I see. Should the knights be dispatched to retrieve her, then?”
“Goodness, no,” said her father. “It wouldn’t be right to haul her back when she’s finally exited her bedroom. The learning experience will be truly priceless. With that said, some prudence is still necessary. Especially if she’s intent on having a word with miscreants.”
“It sounds like she’s doing rather more than that. Are we certain everything she’s written is … well, accurate? She may be misinterpreting information. Significantly so.”
Frankly, all Clarise could glean from this letter was that Juliette had either joined a travelling troupe intent on playing out her wishes, or that her reading material had utterly warped her sense of general knowledge.
“As certain as we can be. The reports I’m hearing are more fantastical by the hour. The blighted crops have begun to recede in the lowlands. Crime is down on all counts in Reitzlake. The snow has dissipated from our lumbermills … and Duke Valence is nowhere to be found. Aquina’s soldiers have stood down. A truly remarkable change of fortunes, but no less than what we expect when any of you munchkins are even slightly involved. We believe the world of you all. And now we may no longer need to sell your grandmother’s portrait!”
Clarise did not share in that confidence.
In fact, she could scarcely believe the words she was hearing.
She was aware of the ills haunting the kingdom, of course. And they were many. Too many for them to handle, even together. Part of the reason she worked so tirelessly throughout the day and night was to devise a means to defend the kingdom should the worst come to pass.
Was it something to do with this clockwork doll, perhaps? Some mysterious heroine from Ouzelia she was accompanying? That would be a safer interpretation. As much as she wished to believe that her younger sister could have achieved a fraction of all this, it seemed highly farfetched. Even thinking about how it was possible caused her head to ache.
Thus, she brought a glass of amber wine towards her instead.
Her father did the same, all the while chuckling at the sight. Clarise rarely drank. And for good reason. Everyone’s safety was at risk.
“Now, as I was saying, prudence,” he continued. “If our little Juliette is at all involved in any of this, then she’ll need a spot of help. Nothing too intrusive, of course. You know how she’ll react. With that said, would you happen to have anything on hand? Preferably with a bit of … subtlety?”
“... Subtlety?”
“Indeed! We could order a courier to surreptitiously drop something in her path. Have you anything which explodes slightly less than normal?”
Clarise’s response was to blink.
All she had was her observatory, her lack of timekeeping, and her ability to create cursed objects and, yes … large explosions. Her last invention was both. A candle bright enough to cause temporary (?) blindness to any who saw it, as well as badly singe their eyebrows in the process when the magma orb inside uncontrollably expanded.
She rather doubted that any of these things could help Juliette in a pinch. She certainly didn’t want to be responsible for damaging her eyebrows. The thought almost made her faint as much as malnutrition.
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe anything I have on hand is suitable for field use. I’d have to make major modifications, perform safety tests and if necessary, make something from scratch.”
“Oh, then it’s quite fine. We’ll work something out. Perhaps something from the vault.”
Clarise felt more than a drop of frustration with herself.
She had plenty of proof of concepts, but small, portable and reliable instruments of lethality were not really her speciality. After all, everything described was a dagger. And as far as she knew, Juliette had at least left the Royal Villa carrying her heirloom sword.
Her mother, seeing her despondent reaction, smiled kindly.
“Don’t worry. There will be plenty of opportunities for your work to aid the kingdom. Not just Juliette.”
“Mother …”
“And if there isn’t, well, that’s also fine. In fact, now that you’re finally out of that tower, there’s also another matter which needs addressing. Since Juliette now has a legitimate excuse to avoid marriage, it’s now back to your turn for that discussion to–”
Clarise immediately stood up, vigour flowing through her veins as she scrunched the letter in her hands.
She had her observatory, her lack of timekeeping, and her ability to create cursed objects and large explosions!
Surely … one of these things could help Juliette!
