kayenano
patreon
Chapter 125: Stress Relief
🕑 Added 2023-07-16 00:21:34 +0000 UTCIn the bustling port town of Trierport, a gentle maiden was tending to her flock.
However, she was no shephard. She was a princess. And her flock were the children of the St. Florella Children’s Orphanage.
Though it made her deeply uneasy to be visiting an orphanage with her namesake, she put up with the feelings of immodesty and played the part expected of her.
As the children sang and danced, she sang and danced along with them. As she slowly twirled, the children laughed as they ducked beneath her sweeping dress, accompanied by the unending hum of whichever lullabies struck her mind.
Around her, the matrons of the orphanage smiled, glad to be able to rest their weary feet.
To be the caretakers, tutors and nurturers of so many children was an exhausting task. No matter how much enthusiasm one possessed heading into the role, it would always prove insufficient.
And yet as Florella moved her feet with all the practice of a trained ballerina, it seemed to all present that she would prove as tireless as the laughs of the children.
This was an ordinary day for Florella Contzen, 1st Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea.
Known far and wide as the ideal image of a princess, she encapsulated all the virtues that one would expect from someone of her station.
Beloved and beautiful, she possessed a heart as gentle as springtime, and a soul as pure as a mountain stream.
A young boy shyly approached, offering a rose the colour of her eyes.
She accepted it with a smile and placed it upon her hair. The large cadre of knights around her silently cursed, crushing their fists vainly as they aimed their envy at the little boy.
One younger knight optimistically leaned down to pluck a rose as the princess turned her back. He was immediately swarmed by his peers, then reminded that none were permitted to break rank in their brotherhood of suffering.
After all, the princess was more than their charge.
She was their idol.
And none were permitted to approach her.
“The children seem happier today,” said Florella, managing to sneak away to rest in the shade. For now. “It gladdens my heart to see them forget their hardships, even for a moment.”
The head matron dipped her head in respect, then smiled in answer.
“Their hardships never leave them, Your Highness. But your presence adds the layer of comfort they miss from their upbringing. You possess a mother’s touch.”
“You do yourself a discourtesy, head matron. Were the orphanage not filled with so much warmth, then no visitor taking up your valuable time could allow them to laugh as they do now. I am simply a curiosity the children indulge in.”
“You are nothing of the sort, Your Highness” replied the head matron, dipping her head even lower. “You are a candle in the darkness.”
“R-Really now! That’s simply–”
“The truth and no less. Were this orphanage not named after one of the patron saints of the kingdom, I have no doubt it would still be named after you.”
Florella couldn’t help but glance away in embarrassment.
Even now, after all these years of royal duty, to receive such high praise was overwhelming to her.
The 1st Princess did not feel she deserved any of it. At least not for something so simple as losing her footwork when dancing with children. To show solidarity with those who have lost so much was a task anyone could do. And these matrons performed it diligently day and night.
It was them who deserved the praise. Not her.
“There is nothing I offer these children which you do not provide in greater amounts. If I could someday display the same generosity of heart as you do, then I would be content with myself at last. Indeed, I do not believe you are shown the gratitude you are due for the nights you spend wandering these grounds, warding away the nightmares even if it means to shorten your own rest. For that, I wish to say … thank you.”
“Y-Your Highness …”
The head matron did not bow. She was too touched.
Tears formed in the corner of her eyes instead.
Though she did not perform this task for merit or acknowledgement, there wasn’t a soul who did not appreciate the warmth of a simple ‘thank you’.
All the more if it came from a princess.
Smiling kindly, Florella brushed away a few blades of grass from the hem of her dress as she prepared to rejoin the fray.
At that moment, one of the knights coughed as he walked towards her, guilt scribbled on his face as his eyes shot towards the children expecting her swift return.
“Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but your appointment with Lady Teresa Malbeaux is …”
“Oh, but of course. I forget how swiftly time passes in this warm place. Thank you for reminding me, Sir Loren.”
The knight trembled, his eyes widening from the shock of this princess with so many burdens knowing the name of a lowly knight like himself.
He swallowed a gulp and saluted, even though that was not at all necessary towards a princess. Florella couldn’t help but laugh. A few of the senior knights smiled. And then cursed him bitterly beneath their breath.
“Very well. Let us be off to our next appointment.”
Thus, Princess Florella Contzen nodded her farewells, braving one last dance with the children before she returned to her carriage.
This was the start of her day. And it was by far the least tiring.
As the second in line to the throne, her responsibilities rarely paled to Crown Prince Roland’s, who even now toiled as steward of the royal capital.
Though not as large as Reitzlake, the prosperity of Trierport was crucial in determining the wealth of the kingdom as a whole.
As its principal harbour, all major sea trade entered and left via its docks.
A vast number of mercantile and fishing guilds were based in the port, while merchants and sailors from as far as Ouzelia and Rosinthe were as common a sight as the cats inhabiting its winding alleys.
Thus, the 1st Princess went to work.
After a formal lunch with a haggard Lady Teresa, Florella met a consortium of merchant guilds to allay their concerns, before visiting the barracks to award commendations to those who’d injured themselves performing their duty. She followed this with a public engagement at the docks to break a bottle upon a new ship, steadying the worrying hearts of those wondering what would become of it.
The concerns were the same. Increasing piracy threatening the kingdom’s shores.
A matter she could do little to alleviate while she had no ships to provide.
By the time she was finished with her apologies, her promises and her hopes for tomorrow, another busy day had passed for the princess.
As she retired to her chambers in the royal family’s Trierport estate, few could fault her if her shoulders sagged from the weight of the kingdom’s eyes upon her.
Yet they remained steadfast and strong, always ready to bear the burden of expectation thrust upon her. And not only because she was to duty what a candle was to a flame.
No, it was also because she was an advocate of daily exercise.
Having officially ended her day, Florella changed into more informal wear–for a princess, at least. Despite the late hour, she would not wear her nightgown until the moment she entered her bed, in case any urgent visitation was required.
But assuming she would not be disturbed, Florella diligently performed her callisthenics, her stretches and her meditation, before lastly fetching a brown paper bag from a drawer to complete the last of her stress relief routine.
She extinguished the candles in her room, then parted her windows and calmly exited via the rope she’d built using pillow cases.
A beautiful night awaited her outside her bedroom.
A pale breeze cooled the back of her neck, while a tickling breeze ran up her legs, unburdened by the flowing dresses she wore.
She did not, however, leave the comforts of her bedroom just to linger in the night.
Her slippers silent against the grass, she climbed up a stack of crates pushed against the wall, then disappeared over into the streets of Trierport.
Not for a thrilling midnight rendezvous, of course.
But to continue with her daily exercise routine.
That’s why–when she arrived at The Smoking Peacock, a brown paper bag over her head with two tiny holes for her eyes, she did not hesitate before striding over to the dingiest corner, manned by the worst ruffians her kingdom had to offer.
She’d gleaned from conversations that disreputable individuals often frequented this tavern. An appalling establishment which even the guards would not enter. At least not while they knew the troublemakers spoiling their town and their paperwork would be gone by the morning.
But for Florella and her busy schedule, morning came too late.
“Good evening,” she said, curtsying in her light gown. “I understand that rogues are amongst your number. Your presence results in hardship to the innocent people of this town. I politely ask that you refrain from any activities which may unduly inconvenience the public.”
The group she spoke to looked up from their gambling, drinking and scheming with varying states of shock at the woman donning a paper bag.
And then–
“Bwahahahahahahahahaah!”
“Hoooo! Check out the gall on this weirdo!”
“Hey, why not show your face? Fell down too many branches after you were born?”
“Gwahahaha! That’s enough for me! I’ve had too much to drink!”
“G-Guys … that is …”
Amongst the band of troublemakers monopolising a corner of this tavern, only one failed to laugh.
A deathly sheen of white overcame his expression as he rose from his chair … before he began to back away.
“Bwahahahaha,” laughed the nearest rogue, wiping a tear from his eye. “What a great night. First we get lucky on that dumb merchant out on a stroll, now we get our own comedian. Hey, you know any jokes?”
“Why, I do,” said Florella. “Knock, knock.”
The ruffian grinned.
“Who’s there?”
“Comeuppance.”
“That doesn’t make any–pwaahhhh?!”
Without allowing him to respond, Florella squarely slugged him in the face.
The man crashed to an almighty racket, his head colliding with the side of a table as all the living daylights fled him at once.
A moment of silence passed.
And then–
“Get her!!”
At once, half a dozen chairs fell over as ruffians rushed at her.
Florella didn’t hesitate.
As a man leaped over the table at her, she stuck out her arm, slamming it into his windpipe as he crashed to the floor, gasping and choking in agony.
Another flung a wild fist in her direction. Florella ducked underneath, before promptly headbutting the man in the groins as his lunge continued. He crashed to the floor, his voice a squeak as he cried for salvation.
A pair rushed to tackle her without guile or thought. She stepped back, hooked a chair beneath her foot and rolled it forward. The two men tumbled over, their legs swept from under them as their faces collided directly with the floor.
A knave looked at the fallen figures of his comrades, hesitated, then spat to the side before raising his fists. He approached cautiously, refusing to allow his pace to be used against him. His eyes glanced over Florella’s paper bag, wondering where best to strike.
And then he wondered no longer–as he received a lightning quick uppercut to the side of his face.
Only one man remained. The one who’d cautioned his comrades.
He pressed himself into the corner of the tavern, a sea of chairs around him as he desperately attempted to build his own barrier.
“Y-You … You’re … You’re … !”
Florella nodded, then turned away.
That’s right.
Here in the taverns of Trierport, Florella Contzen was not the 1st Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea.
She was La Muerte Enmascarada, and she was a bare-knuckle boxing champion.
Famed within certain circles, she was the vigilante against hooliganism. The fist against crime. An ardent believer of daily exercise regimens.
And what her guards could not do, she did herself.
Exceptionally well.
Years of accumulated stress had made her an unstoppable pain machine. An unfeeling architect of broken jaws. A flurry of jabs followed by a rear hook and a fracturing uppercut to the eye socket was her trademark. And all who knew the reputation of the mysterious woman wearing a brown paper bag over her head treated her with the respect of a lioness amongst ducklings.
Bwam.
Suddenly, a huge group of men entered the tavern, drawn by the commotion or their need to stir trouble for the townspeople. From the dark looks of their eyes and the leering angle of their smiles, it was evident they were no mere sailors.
Almost as one, the group stalled as they witnessed the scene before them.
A fresh moment of silence passed.
Then, recognition lit up in their eyes as they eyed the unconscious scattered across the floor … and then the brown paper bag upon Florella’s head.
“Crap, it’s her! La Muerte Enmascarada!”
“Tch, she’s the one who beat up the chief’s boys the other night.”
“T-Then let’s get her! We’re 30! We can take her!”
“Yeah! We can finally see who’s under that paper bag! … Jimmy, you go first!”
“I-I’m … yeah, I’m gonna sit this one out …”
Florella counted as the group advanced towards her, none rushing to use their overwhelming numerical advantage.
After all, all knew what awaited the first person to jump at her.
She was La Muerte Enmascarada.
And she hadn’t even begun cracking her knuckles yet.
Comments
The Magician
a HERO FOR FUN!? I love her already. I know Juliette absolutely would not approve of her actions, but, would begrudgingly accept it as her simple mask and absolutely ridiculous persona perfectly hide her identity as a princess.
In other ports Florella is known as *La Fleur de la Mort*, *Papierjungfer der Fäuste*, or *That Crazy Woman in the Mask*.
