kayenano
patreon
Chapter 167: The Edge Of The Kingdom
🕑 Added 2023-10-13 23:00:01 +0000 UTCMy mother’s maids were becoming increasingly fearless.
As the only members of the Royal Villa’s staff to be immune from my finger of firing, they obeyed my mother’s commands without fail.
Ordinarily, this was a good thing. Obedience and loyalty were the two most important features of any servant, followed closely by the flexibility of their backs. But this was problematic when it came into contention with my need to sleep.
Once again, I was awoken to the brutish sight of sunlight pouring in through my windows.
Now, however, it was even more relentless. A pure ray of dawn unbeholden to any curtains. The assault was devastating.
That they’d go so far as to do away with my curtains altogether was simply overbearing. And yet it couldn’t be anything less than this. Even as I held my duvet as a shield, little could stop the sunlight as unyielding as my need for a bath.
One which clearly wasn’t being run.
I took in the scent. Something not lavender and therefore acceptable. It was earthy and pungent. Almost like a horse after a brisk trample over a farmer’s crops. And then I realised the truth was far worse than that.
It was the perfume of the peasantry.
And it was pervading not into my cherished bedroom, but into my inn room, joining the unremitting sunlight as it poured through the open window.
And that meant … the fog no longer remained!
I sat up, both the weight of my insomnia and the duvet suddenly brushed aside.
It wasn’t the odour seeping in which caused me to be snapped from my haze, nor the crashing laughter breaking all sense of etiquette from the floor below.
No, it was my sense of anticipation.
I turned to the window. The glare met my eyes, and yet I scarcely winced as I peered at the ugly facade of an opposite building unmasked in the glaring daylight.
And then I heard it.
The melody of industry.
Carts with ramshackle wheels bearing weights far above their limits. The clinking of ores shaking within crates. The sighing of yesterday’s merchants lost in utter confusion and misery, their voices thin as their margins as trinkets failed to be sold.
I broke into a smile as I pictured the disconsolate expressions.
Ohoho … ohohoho … ohohohohohohohoho!
The shadow which covered Stermondt now gave way to a light cast solely by my presence! And within it, no entrepreneurs existed to hawk their weeds plucked from the roadside! Those that remained stood out like blemishes beneath the unyielding daylight, every pore as unmasked as the uselessness of their toys!
All I could hear was the sweet waltz of sweat and toil, arm in arm as peasants danced in the name of my kingdom … and their ballroom was our mines!
“Ohohhohohohohohohoho!!”
Highly satisfied, I turned to view my loyal handmaiden, ready to shake her from her slumber so she could join me in my waking delight.
To my surprise, neither a line of dribbling saliva nor a clockwork doll met me.
Only an empty space of unmade bed as strewn as a battlefield. Yet another thing she’d need to learn. Tucking in bed sheets so tightly that they ignored comfort for impracticality was a hallmark of a good maid. And as a handmaiden, Coppelia needed to be the finest of them. If I could enter a bed she’d made in less than 7 minutes, then she’d need to repeat the process from scratch.
“Morning! How’d you sleep?”
But maybe not now.
Coppelia was busy with her stretches. And she was doing them upside down.
Looking up, I witnessed a smile burning more harshly than any sunlight. Both her arms and legs formed a clockwork canopy between the ceiling beams as she positioned herself like a cat waiting to pounce.
I blinked at her. Then rubbed my eyes.
I waited several moments before answering. Even so, I wasn’t sure within my daze if I was perhaps the one on the ceiling and Coppelia was on the floor.
“... Coppelia, by any chance, are you preparing to land upon an intruder coming to assassinate me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Oh. Excellent. You may continue, then.”
“Well, I’m also stretching.”
“Yes, well, so long as you don’t strain yourself. I need you prepared at all times. It’d be truly awful if you were to experience a cramp while a vixen disguised as a maid tries to murder me.”
Coppelia’s eyes sparkled with interest. An unusual reaction to news of her princess being targeted. But I suppose she enjoyed being kept busy.
“Oooh, does that happen often?”
“Thankfully not.”
“Aww.”
“Twice a year, perhaps.”
“I mean, that does sound like a lot?”
“Not compared to before. Assassins disguised as maids stopped being vogue years ago. Even so, the nobility are known for nothing if not their lack of creativity. Expect to have to throw a maid through a window at least semi-regularly.”
“Got it~ throw every maid out of every window!”
I reacted with customary horror. If she was going to be out every maid, then she was going to be picking them up afterwards as well. Especially when they landed on my petunias.
“No, not every maid. And certainly not my mother’s. Only the assassins. Even if there’s little difference between them when they wake me in the mornings.”
“Exactly. You can never be too careful.”
“You certainly can. I’ve little wish to experience being hurled out of bed the next they wake me up. Fortunately, it’s a simple affair to discern a genuine maid from a hired assassin. Merely note their knees. Do they tremble, buckling under the weight of fear as they worry if the pot of tea they hold will be the one to spill and spell the hunger of their sick younger siblings waiting at home? If not, assassins. Only they do not fear the result of a botched tea service.”
“... It’s that bit which really gets to you, isn’t it?”
“A disgrace. Even if the assassinations don’t succeed, the death of my patience does. The lack of propriety is abominable. All that training and none of it towards holding a teapot. Tea must be poured perpendicular in height to the cup into the direct centre with no spillages or splashes. What’s the point of lacing my vanilla chamomile with shade of nightbloom if they can’t even offer it correctly?”
“Amateurs. They should burst out from cakes instead.”
“Please no. There’d be no saving the texture afterwards.”
Coppelia wore a look which plainly said she’d still eat it regardless.
“That’s awful. Almost as wasteful as missing the last of the cinnamon rolls from the bakery outside. I can smell the last ones vanishing.”
I turned towards the window once again.
Of all the whiffs inviting me beneath the sunlight over my kingdom, a cinnamon scent wasn’t one of them.
“I can discern only the odour of peasants. How do you reconcile your superior sense of smell with the aroma of the unwashed masses?”
“By thinking happy thoughts.” Coppelia clapped her hands together, using only her legs to stay aloft. “Like a dragon suddenly stomping down on them while their children cry out in fear and terror, lost between fleeing and rescuing their parents.”
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
I’d almost forgotten the somewhat vigorous nature of Coppelia’s disregard towards my subjects. And while this was only a respectable attitude to have as my royal retainer, there was a time and a place.
Indeed, until a town or village rose up in revolution, a dragon attack really wasn’t necessary. Merely trundling through their fields, barns and livelihoods with a royal carriage was enough to instil a reminder of the grim gulf in status between us.
Still, I couldn’t fault her for her enthusiasm. Ensuring the people knew their place was an important task in securing the monarchy, after all.
If only all threats against us could be removed in similarly elegant fashion.
If only.
Because as I removed myself from the Winter Queen’s bed, I did so with my gaze set upon the window. Somewhere beyond the horizon marred by the worst architecture my kingdom had to offer, an unknown foe threatened the very sovereignty of my realm.
This I would not allow!
“Coppelia,” I said, nodding seriously as I returned to my loyal handmaiden. She now remained balanced with a single hand and foot. “The time has come for us to make for our next destination.”
“Got it~ which bakery did you want?”
“Hm? No, that’s not what I … there’s more than one choice?”
“There’s two. One has the last of the cinnamon rolls, but the other has a special discount on hazelnut croissants if purchased with jars of marmalade.”
“I see. Then the answer is clear. No compromise. We shall visit both. And then afterwards, we’ll make our way to the edge of the kingdom … to where the longest shadow falls.”
Coppelia met my declaration with a tilt of her head.
“You mean here?”
“Excuse me?”
“This is the edge of your kingdom. And these mountains don’t get any bigger. This is where the longest shadows fall.”
“No, Coppelia. We’ve already dealt with the ones here.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I refer to our border with the Grand Duchy of Granholtz. And the shadow cast by the White Citadel. One which looms ever upon our mightiest bulwark.”
“Ooooh~ and that would be …”
“The Loerstadt Gate.”
“The Lowerthing Gate!”
I nodded.
Already, I knew this to be the most daunting of obstacles remaining. The last wound left to fester amidst a checklist of calamities my father had voiced during that shocking day in the dining room. Even now, I could close my eyes and see the worry sketched upon his face as he wondered how he was going to toss away a 14 layer cake he clearly didn’t enjoy and I certainly wasn’t going to eat.
Yet if those who manned our north-eastern border could stand firm, then so could I.
The Loerstadt Gate.
The border fortification with the Grand Duchy of Granholtz.
It was more than a walled bastion. It was the defence against the schemes and twisting webs of the Grand Duchess. Always in the eyes of the White Citadel, the Loerstadt Gate was the first and greatest line of defence against the ambitions of one of the continent’s great powers.
Were it not for those who studiously faced the Grand Duchess’s searching gaze, she would see nought but the open fields ripe for taking, the verdant hillsides fit for scouring and the heavily taxed villages … well, no, they couldn’t be taxed any further. In fact, she’d probably lower them.
But regardless!
I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, would not have my subjects under the yolk of her progressive taxation policies!
Her–or whoever she sent to test our will to defend our way of life.
“My father spoke of skirmishes in our eastern borders. Beyond this, I’ve little knowledge of what is occurring. But no matter. Any incursions against our sovereignty will be met with the full width of my boot and the length of my scowl.”
“Ooooh …”
Sparkles lit up in Coppelia’s eyes.
Sparkles and not a look of ready tactfulness as we treaded the delicate border between our two realms.
Somewhat foreboding, yes … but it was an enthusiastic response.
And that’s all that mattered!
Indeed, our wills were as steeled as those brave souls who defended the edge of my kingdom. And I was heartened by the fact that neither I nor my loyal handmaiden would approach them with anything less than full spirit!
Especially as it was Tristan who commanded them.
I smiled at once.
My admiration for him was always high. He diligently commanded the garrison while far from the amenities he as the second prince was owed. Yet to be the shield of the kingdom was a weight as burdensome as it was noble. And I couldn’t help but wonder at how heavy such a responsibility was upon his shoulders.
One which I would readily relieve.
“This sounds really fun,” said Coppelia, nodding profusely. “But I have a question. If soldiers are attacking your kingdom, isn’t that a big thing?”
“If soldiers were attacking my kingdom, then we would know as fleeing peasants flooded the streets beneath this window. No, it is nothing so obvious. It is far more insidious. But whatever schemes are occurring, I know without doubt that Granholtz is not uninvolved. We must be wary. Only our superior intelligence and famed cunning can see us through against a foe as sly as a viper in a pit.”
Coppelia pumped her fist before her.
“Uwaaah~ we’re gonna overturn so much furniture!”
“Absolutely not! We’re not overturning furniture this time! I mean it!”
“Massive explosions! Screaming peasants! Strong arm diplomacy!”
I pursed my lips.
A part of me wished to instantly refute her expectations.
And yet one, maybe two precedents now existed which suggested some of my disputes were not solved entirely in keeping with the soft touch I as a princess was expected to use.
… Even so!
“Coppelia, we’re not barbarians or maddened mages. Yes, I concede that in past days–”
“Hours.”
“–hours, things have exploded and furniture overturned. But we absolutely cannot make this the expectation. No, this time, I intend to mete out unrelenting punishment with both grace and dignity, as befits my royal status.”
I swept past Coppelia’s stretching form as I made for the door. She gently landed behind me, her excitement practically radiating behind me.
“Got it!~ and what does that mean?”
I paused, then gave it a moment’s thought.
A number of scenarios ran through my mind. None involving explosions. Or furniture overturning. Or screaming.
But no matter how they began, they all ended in the same manner. With my foes staring up at me, their faces blanketed by the shadow of my boot.
For what was more elegant than the footsteps of a princess?
And so I turned, hand raised to my lips as I barely covered my smile.
“Ohohoho … I shall leave that open to interpretation.”
Comments
hhhhhuie
"Massive Explosions!" - Coppelia has spoken!
The Magician
The constant push-and-pull of Juliette's attempts to obfuscate any act that could besmirch her Princess's Reputation and Coppelia's inexorable compulsion to foil such obfuscation is a never ending source of entertainment. Its amazing how much Coppelia gets away with by being both extremely cute and specifically useful.
