A grey ceiling met my tired eyes.
Or at least, I believed it was grey. It was hard to tell amidst the blurriness of the stonework. Soft and indistinct. Like sediment at the bottom of a pond. Why was stone blurry? That seemed like a structural weakness. It’d be terrible if it collapsed.
I let out a small groan.
The first ceiling of an inn I’d slept under built from something other than gnawed wood and it’d be the one to spell my demise. How sad.
These were the thoughts making up my waking mind.
A moment later–
I turned my head to the side.
Dawn came in the form of a golden halo cresting the Loerstadt Gate.
I watched from my bed, gazing through the window at the sight of the sun hoping to earn a spot in my good graces by gently sending me off to my next destination. It’d need to do more than that. I hadn’t yet forgiven it for all the mornings it’d cruelly singed my face through the curtains.
Like now.
Still, I was nothing if not famously cordial.
And so I raised myself, sitting up and wincing as I accepted this parting gift blinding my eyes in the steadfast way all royalty must do.
Though the early hour would have felled even the mightiest of heroes, it was little to a princess whose life was one of duty in the face of immense hardship. My responsibilities never ended, and so neither did my working hours.
No matter where dials upon the clock pointed, I could be relied upon to descend the gnarled oak I’d never once climbed down outside my window, escaping my tutors as they sought to assail me during the first hours of the morning or the last hours of the night.
Indeed, nothing could stop me from rising to meet the day’s challenges.
Too-too-too-too-tooooooooooooom!
And it had nothing to do with the trumpets blasting in imitation of a whale’s mating call.
“Left, left, left, right, left!”
Nor the soldiers practising their drills in the courtyard before the rows of closed shops.
“Congratulations! You’ve risen to B-rank!”
Nor even insomnia as that receptionist’s polite smile remained branded like hot iron in my eyes throughout the night, her words of congratulations ringing louder than the drums of the marching band as they ensured that if they couldn’t get any sleep, then no one else could either.
Yes, I was fine.
Absolutely fine.
Those bags under my eyes? Evidence of my determination to see out my noble task. I’d fully intended on waking up before the crack of dawn, grief echoing in my mind as the sound of trumpets coalesced with the burning sun stabbing my irises through the window.
And none of the maids who knew my true sleeping schedule were around to say otherwise.
Indeed, wincing before the unforgiving rays of the dawning sun was nothing to me.
Pwam!
Especially as the smile Coppelia wore as she burst through the door was considerably brighter.
When she had woken, why she had woken, and how she was smiling were all questions nobody had the answers to. Not even herself.
“Alrighty!” she said, hopping to a halt beside my bed. “The Restaurant de Coppelia is now open! I’m confident I’ve scrounged the best breakfast selection available!”
I blinked.
Oh my, she’d acquired breakfast?
That was most thoughtful. And so even as minor delirium ringed in my head, I sought to offer my finest smile as I considered which of the breakfast choices I’d be picking.
A problem.
Both looked the same. And neither looked like breakfast.
I narrowed my eyes as I leaned towards the things she held in either hand.
“Excuse me, but … what is this?”
“Sun dried croûtons.”
“It looks remarkably like two sticks of stale bread.”
“That’s what the guards I haggled from called them too. But here in the Restaurant de Coppelia, we serve only things with fancy names. Like tarte au slime.”
I regarded the stale bread, then pursed my lips.
“Do … Do you actually have tarte au slime?”
“No. Why, would you have eaten it?”
“O-Ohoho … of course not,” I said, having absolutely no memories of my 10th birthday party when haute cuisine was surely at its lowest point. “I was merely curious at how adventurous the Restaurant de Coppelia was.”
“Enough that we’re sold out. This is all that’s left. Literally. Want one?”
I groaned before shaking my head.
Repeatedly.
“Thank you, but I’ve little desire to assassinate my own taste buds when the new kitchen hires already excel at the role. I need to represent the dignity of the kingdom at all times. And while having a blue face would certainly highlight my ire, I need to articulate my gloating laughter without impediment. I shall forego the sticks of stale bread.”
“Hey! I had to trade one of my best jokes for these sticks of–I mean, sun dried croûtons.”
Coppelia chose not to expand on her statement, her eyes sparkling in open invitation instead.
Ugh. I couldn’t roll my eyes to the side enough. Not that I didn’t try.
I let out a short sigh instead.
“... Fine. What is the joke?”
“Why did the fruit slime get kicked out of the adventuring party?”
“Because it’s a fruit slime and possesses no benefit other than as a projectile.”
“Nope. It’s because it told too melon jokes.”
A moment of silence passed.
Then, my shoulders fell as I offered my loyal handmaiden a tender, yet sombre smile.
“Coppelia … I would like to sincerely thank you for all you’ve done for me so far. I hope we meet again.”
“Eeehh?! I’m being kicked out?! Like the fruit slime?!”
“No. If you were a fruit slime, I’d be practising my Mark II Prototype [Spring Breeze]. Instead, I’m silently weeping. As the attendant to a princess, you cannot use fruit slimes as the subject of your humour. Your jests must be weaved like the lyrics to a song, offering a hint of your true thoughts beneath layers of subtlety and wordplay.”
Coppelia leaned slightly away, apparently recoiling at the thought of minimal standards.
“I’ll be honest, that sounds like a lot of effort for not a lot of laughing.”
“That’s because you haven’t heard a truly riveting joke yet.”
“Okay, fine, you tell one and I’ll judge.”
“Very well … my kingdom’s nobility.”
Coppelia nodded, her eagerness turning to confusion, and then to a crestfallen smile as she waited.
“... You’re gonna say that that’s the joke, aren’t you?”
“It is perfect. Ohohohohohoho!!”
I filled the room with my smile as Coppelia’s gradually waned.
Now 5% more awake than I was a moment ago, I rubbed my eyes.
Even so, none of the blurry ceiling, the sticks of bread or my next destination fixed itself. All issues I had to contend with. And the least greatest was the one which would require me to exit my bed.
Eventually.
“Perhaps I’ll share my joke with the nobility in question,” I said, as the stick of bread failed to turn into a buttery croissant before me. “And one in particular. That pendant featured an emblem I’d planned to adopt for myself. To use it is one thing. But to gift it away is quite another. There are several layers of insult at work here, both imagined and real. I intend to answer them all.”
Coppelia thought for a moment.
“You know, if it’s something you planned to choose, ergo it’s not already taken, can someone really be blamed for using it?”
“Of course. At court, nothing is missed. And at my tea table, there are no coincidences. All those who sit with me do so while aware of my unspoken wishes, my future decisions and my need to nap while they pretend I’m still awake. That is the minimum cost of entry.”
“Uwaah~ sounds expensive.”
“True. And for a baroness hiding in the countryside, the cost has now become steeper than any she could hope to pay. We’ll be making our way to the northern baronies to see to the bankruptcy arrangements personally.”
“Great! Where’s that?”
“Far too close. I can practically smell the odour from here.”
“All I smell are the horses.”
“Yes, well … beyond Apple, there’s also somewhere else. The minor town of Hartzwiese.”
I wrinkled my nose as the name left my lips.
Hartzwiese.
A hole specialising in lack of reasons to visit, where penniless nobility congregated like hoodlums in a bar. Yet as the regional capital of the northern baronies, I had no doubt we’d find all the soap makers of tomorrow dutifully waiting for us.
“Any conspiracy involving the baronage can be snipped in the bud there. And given the level of insult against me, we cannot arrive soon enough. Fortunately, this should only be a minor detour.”
Coppelia tilted her head slightly.
Then, she leaned forwards, her smile playing ominously at her lips.
I leaned away an equal distance, stretching past my bed’s headrest.
“Are you sureeeeeeeee?”
“E-Excuse me?”
“Because I know minor detours. And guess what–they don’t have a definition in the dictionary.”
I raised a brow, more concerned with the encroaching sticks of stale bread in her hands than her warning.
“Really now, there’s no need to be concerned. Hartzwiese isn’t far. And no matter what the countryside nobility of my kingdom hope to achieve, they’ll doubtless quail like cockroaches at the first sight of our presence. All that awaits us is their dashed ambitions and empty hovels.”
Coppelia looked down at her sticks of stale bread.
“Do you think those empty hovels will have things better than my sun dried croûtons in them?”
“I’m not even certain if they possess kitchens, Coppelia.”
I shuddered.
We truly were heading into the darkness.
“Shame.” Coppelia braved a nibble on what was clearly somebody’s discarded ration. “Because this really isn’t that nice. Sure you don’t want some?”
“No, thank you … wait, actually, maybe.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Should the rodents remain in their hovels when we arrive, we can use them to lure them out.”
A bemused look met my suggestion. That was understandable. Stale bread was needlessly extravagant. Dirt from the side of the road would also do.
“What if they don’t come out for sun dried croûtons?”
“That’s fine. When it comes to inspections, compliance is preferred, but not essential. And we have leeway to be exceptionally thorough.”
Coppelia pumped her arms in the air, discreetly throwing her sticks of stale bread through the window.
“Furniture tossing! Indiscriminate looting! Explosions!~”
I let out a small groan.
“Coppelia, everything I do is with the intention of there being no explosions. I will be frank. I am extremely tired of explosions. And it beguiles me that they seem to follow despite my best efforts.”
“Some things are just meant to be.”
“Indeed, such as the sanctity of my hair. No, there will be no explosions or furniture tossing. For this, only the elegance of my soles will suffice.”
Ignoring Coppelia’s less than quiet amusement, I removed my duvet and exited the bed.
The first step.
Next was to raise a hand to my lips, barely hiding my smile even as I really should have used my hand to shield my eyes from the sun instead.
“Ohohohoho … come, Coppelia! Treason and treachery scuttles from beneath the floorboards. The flames of insurrection must be extinguished, and in its place a tax windfall to fund … what would you like?”
“A magical, self-propelling playground swing with variable speed settings.”
I gave it a moment’s thought.
And then–I nodded confidently.
Very well! Something rare and expensive for Coppelia!
Of course, I needed to actually wake up first … and then eat an edible breakfast … and then collect the crowns a slovenly guildmaster owed me for escorting a fairy … and then teach Apple to consume magical scrolls of parchment …
But after those things!
It was time to spring clean.
And for those who sought to scheme in the dark, there was no corner to flee to, no curtain to hide behind, and no carpets to shelter beneath.
Only a vast horizon as far as an island dedicated to the continuous manufacture of soap.
kayenano
Ohoho! Thank you so much for reading!
Join my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead!
And don't forget to check out the Discord for fun and pictures!
A grey ceiling met my tired eyes.
Or at least, I believed it was grey. It was hard to tell amidst the blurriness of the stonework. Soft and indistinct. Like sediment at the bottom of a pond. Why was stone blurry? That seemed like a structural weakness. It’d be terrible if it collapsed.
I let out a small groan.
The first ceiling of an inn I’d slept under built from something other than gnawed wood and it’d be the one to spell my demise. How sad.
These were the thoughts making up my waking mind.
A moment later–
I turned my head to the side.
Dawn came in the form of a golden halo cresting the Loerstadt Gate.
I watched from my bed, gazing through the window at the sight of the sun hoping to earn a spot in my good graces by gently sending me off to my next destination. It’d need to do more than that. I hadn’t yet forgiven it for all the mornings it’d cruelly singed my face through the curtains.
Like now.
Still, I was nothing if not famously cordial.
And so I raised myself, sitting up and wincing as I accepted this parting gift blinding my eyes in the steadfast way all royalty must do.
Though the early hour would have felled even the mightiest of heroes, it was little to a princess whose life was one of duty in the face of immense hardship. My responsibilities never ended, and so neither did my working hours.
No matter where dials upon the clock pointed, I could be relied upon to descend the gnarled oak I’d never once climbed down outside my window, escaping my tutors as they sought to assail me during the first hours of the morning or the last hours of the night.
Indeed, nothing could stop me from rising to meet the day’s challenges.
Too-too-too-too-tooooooooooooom!
And it had nothing to do with the trumpets blasting in imitation of a whale’s mating call.
“Left, left, left, right, left!”
Nor the soldiers practising their drills in the courtyard before the rows of closed shops.
“Congratulations! You’ve risen to B-rank!”
Nor even insomnia as that receptionist’s polite smile remained branded like hot iron in my eyes throughout the night, her words of congratulations ringing louder than the drums of the marching band as they ensured that if they couldn’t get any sleep, then no one else could either.
Yes, I was fine.
Absolutely fine.
Those bags under my eyes? Evidence of my determination to see out my noble task. I’d fully intended on waking up before the crack of dawn, grief echoing in my mind as the sound of trumpets coalesced with the burning sun stabbing my irises through the window.
And none of the maids who knew my true sleeping schedule were around to say otherwise.
Indeed, wincing before the unforgiving rays of the dawning sun was nothing to me.
Pwam!
Especially as the smile Coppelia wore as she burst through the door was considerably brighter.
When she had woken, why she had woken, and how she was smiling were all questions nobody had the answers to. Not even herself.
“Alrighty!” she said, hopping to a halt beside my bed. “The Restaurant de Coppelia is now open! I’m confident I’ve scrounged the best breakfast selection available!”
I blinked.
Oh my, she’d acquired breakfast?
That was most thoughtful. And so even as minor delirium ringed in my head, I sought to offer my finest smile as I considered which of the breakfast choices I’d be picking.
A problem.
Both looked the same. And neither looked like breakfast.
I narrowed my eyes as I leaned towards the things she held in either hand.
“Excuse me, but … what is this?”
“Sun dried croûtons.”
“It looks remarkably like two sticks of stale bread.”
“That’s what the guards I haggled from called them too. But here in the Restaurant de Coppelia, we serve only things with fancy names. Like tarte au slime.”
I regarded the stale bread, then pursed my lips.
“Do … Do you actually have tarte au slime?”
“No. Why, would you have eaten it?”
“O-Ohoho … of course not,” I said, having absolutely no memories of my 10th birthday party when haute cuisine was surely at its lowest point. “I was merely curious at how adventurous the Restaurant de Coppelia was.”
“Enough that we’re sold out. This is all that’s left. Literally. Want one?”
I groaned before shaking my head.
Repeatedly.
“Thank you, but I’ve little desire to assassinate my own taste buds when the new kitchen hires already excel at the role. I need to represent the dignity of the kingdom at all times. And while having a blue face would certainly highlight my ire, I need to articulate my gloating laughter without impediment. I shall forego the sticks of stale bread.”
“Hey! I had to trade one of my best jokes for these sticks of–I mean, sun dried croûtons.”
Coppelia chose not to expand on her statement, her eyes sparkling in open invitation instead.
Ugh. I couldn’t roll my eyes to the side enough. Not that I didn’t try.
I let out a short sigh instead.
“... Fine. What is the joke?”
“Why did the fruit slime get kicked out of the adventuring party?”
“Because it’s a fruit slime and possesses no benefit other than as a projectile.”
“Nope. It’s because it told too melon jokes.”
A moment of silence passed.
Then, my shoulders fell as I offered my loyal handmaiden a tender, yet sombre smile.
“Coppelia … I would like to sincerely thank you for all you’ve done for me so far. I hope we meet again.”
“Eeehh?! I’m being kicked out?! Like the fruit slime?!”
“No. If you were a fruit slime, I’d be practising my Mark II Prototype [Spring Breeze]. Instead, I’m silently weeping. As the attendant to a princess, you cannot use fruit slimes as the subject of your humour. Your jests must be weaved like the lyrics to a song, offering a hint of your true thoughts beneath layers of subtlety and wordplay.”
Coppelia leaned slightly away, apparently recoiling at the thought of minimal standards.
“I’ll be honest, that sounds like a lot of effort for not a lot of laughing.”
“That’s because you haven’t heard a truly riveting joke yet.”
“Okay, fine, you tell one and I’ll judge.”
“Very well … my kingdom’s nobility.”
Coppelia nodded, her eagerness turning to confusion, and then to a crestfallen smile as she waited.
“... You’re gonna say that that’s the joke, aren’t you?”
“It is perfect. Ohohohohohoho!!”
I filled the room with my smile as Coppelia’s gradually waned.
Now 5% more awake than I was a moment ago, I rubbed my eyes.
Even so, none of the blurry ceiling, the sticks of bread or my next destination fixed itself. All issues I had to contend with. And the least greatest was the one which would require me to exit my bed.
Eventually.
“Perhaps I’ll share my joke with the nobility in question,” I said, as the stick of bread failed to turn into a buttery croissant before me. “And one in particular. That pendant featured an emblem I’d planned to adopt for myself. To use it is one thing. But to gift it away is quite another. There are several layers of insult at work here, both imagined and real. I intend to answer them all.”
Coppelia thought for a moment.
“You know, if it’s something you planned to choose, ergo it’s not already taken, can someone really be blamed for using it?”
“Of course. At court, nothing is missed. And at my tea table, there are no coincidences. All those who sit with me do so while aware of my unspoken wishes, my future decisions and my need to nap while they pretend I’m still awake. That is the minimum cost of entry.”
“Uwaah~ sounds expensive.”
“True. And for a baroness hiding in the countryside, the cost has now become steeper than any she could hope to pay. We’ll be making our way to the northern baronies to see to the bankruptcy arrangements personally.”
“Great! Where’s that?”
“Far too close. I can practically smell the odour from here.”
“All I smell are the horses.”
“Yes, well … beyond Apple, there’s also somewhere else. The minor town of Hartzwiese.”
I wrinkled my nose as the name left my lips.
Hartzwiese.
A hole specialising in lack of reasons to visit, where penniless nobility congregated like hoodlums in a bar. Yet as the regional capital of the northern baronies, I had no doubt we’d find all the soap makers of tomorrow dutifully waiting for us.
“Any conspiracy involving the baronage can be snipped in the bud there. And given the level of insult against me, we cannot arrive soon enough. Fortunately, this should only be a minor detour.”
Coppelia tilted her head slightly.
Then, she leaned forwards, her smile playing ominously at her lips.
I leaned away an equal distance, stretching past my bed’s headrest.
“Are you sureeeeeeeee?”
“E-Excuse me?”
“Because I know minor detours. And guess what–they don’t have a definition in the dictionary.”
I raised a brow, more concerned with the encroaching sticks of stale bread in her hands than her warning.
“Really now, there’s no need to be concerned. Hartzwiese isn’t far. And no matter what the countryside nobility of my kingdom hope to achieve, they’ll doubtless quail like cockroaches at the first sight of our presence. All that awaits us is their dashed ambitions and empty hovels.”
Coppelia looked down at her sticks of stale bread.
“Do you think those empty hovels will have things better than my sun dried croûtons in them?”
“I’m not even certain if they possess kitchens, Coppelia.”
I shuddered.
We truly were heading into the darkness.
“Shame.” Coppelia braved a nibble on what was clearly somebody’s discarded ration. “Because this really isn’t that nice. Sure you don’t want some?”
“No, thank you … wait, actually, maybe.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Should the rodents remain in their hovels when we arrive, we can use them to lure them out.”
A bemused look met my suggestion. That was understandable. Stale bread was needlessly extravagant. Dirt from the side of the road would also do.
“What if they don’t come out for sun dried croûtons?”
“That’s fine. When it comes to inspections, compliance is preferred, but not essential. And we have leeway to be exceptionally thorough.”
Coppelia pumped her arms in the air, discreetly throwing her sticks of stale bread through the window.
“Furniture tossing! Indiscriminate looting! Explosions!~”
I let out a small groan.
“Coppelia, everything I do is with the intention of there being no explosions. I will be frank. I am extremely tired of explosions. And it beguiles me that they seem to follow despite my best efforts.”
“Some things are just meant to be.”
“Indeed, such as the sanctity of my hair. No, there will be no explosions or furniture tossing. For this, only the elegance of my soles will suffice.”
Ignoring Coppelia’s less than quiet amusement, I removed my duvet and exited the bed.
The first step.
Next was to raise a hand to my lips, barely hiding my smile even as I really should have used my hand to shield my eyes from the sun instead.
“Ohohohoho … come, Coppelia! Treason and treachery scuttles from beneath the floorboards. The flames of insurrection must be extinguished, and in its place a tax windfall to fund … what would you like?”
“A magical, self-propelling playground swing with variable speed settings.”
I gave it a moment’s thought.
And then–I nodded confidently.
Very well! Something rare and expensive for Coppelia!
Of course, I needed to actually wake up first … and then eat an edible breakfast … and then collect the crowns a slovenly guildmaster owed me for escorting a fairy … and then teach Apple to consume magical scrolls of parchment …
But after those things!
It was time to spring clean.
And for those who sought to scheme in the dark, there was no corner to flee to, no curtain to hide behind, and no carpets to shelter beneath.
Only a vast horizon as far as an island dedicated to the continuous manufacture of soap.
kayenano
Ohoho! Thank you so much for reading!
Join my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead!
And don't forget to check out the Discord for fun and pictures!
