As a princess, I was host to a range of useful and highly specialised skills.
I could, for example, identify the origin of the oranges used to make bergamot tea down to its latitude and longitude. More than once, trade delegations had been left red-faced as I laughed their poorly sourced wares out of our halls.
But here?
Here, there was no laughing.
Only pain.
Because with each waft of debauchery that made its way to my delicate nose, I could only imagine which sewer these brigands had crawled through, died in, exhumed and then necromatically reanimated from before finding themselves in my presence.
I sniffed the air and groaned.
My regret was immediate. Not only in regards to venturing into this hive of debauchery.
But everything.
The magically self-conjuring vanilla cheesecake I consumed when I snuck into the kitchen late at night? Regret. The fledgling adventure romance novel I once submitted under alias? Regret. The baby portrait of myself I destroyed when I did away with an errant bee flying overhead ? … No regret.
But such was the power of the reek which pervaded this … town, that I could only contemplate every life decision that had ever brought me here.
Yes, there could be no doubt.
This … This was no place for a princess!
Drunkards swaying with leering grins! Scoundrels shoulder to shoulder with comrades while snaking arms around each other’s coin purses! Stall vendors selling crêpes without a banana trifle option!
It was awful!
Peering down upon this haven of hooligans from the deck of a ship had concealed the worst of its qualities. But here, scarcely a few steps past the docks, there was little to hide the revelry of ill-meaning activity.
Why, I could feel my princess points dropping with each moment I was here!
My royal bearing was being eroded like the rocks which made up this illicit hideaway! This could not be allowed to happen!
I wrinkled my nose as I cast my frown around.
“Come, Coppelia. We should hasten to locate the leader of these brigands before our dignity rots away like the driftwood upon the shore.”
“I mean, until we start headbutting walls, I think our dignity’s good.”
“Excuse me?”
My future handmaiden pointed at a wall.
And also the man brawling with it.
And losing.
A merry gathering crowded him, yelling vulgar words of encouragement as he slowly excavated a hole in the facade using nothing but his forehead. A hole which he then proceeded to refill with the contents of his own regurgitation.
I resisted the urge to withdraw to the ship–although mostly because I had little faith I wouldn’t be seeing the same scene happening there as well.
I shuddered.
Sailors.
Though I was assured that not every ruffian to grace this illegal harbour was a pirate, I could not help but believe that the captain who ferried me here was both highly biased and at least partially blind.
Even so, there was no need to be inefficient in my search.
I endeavoured to spend as little time here as possible, and that meant querying those who I knew without doubt could lead me to my destination. Brokers of knowledge, merchants of secrets and occasionally lenders of horses.
For example–
A village barkeeper, whose name I’d forgotten, but whose steed now ferried me to the distant corners of my kingdom.
That’s right!
I had a 100% success rate with information gathering from dispensers of alcohol, and I saw no reason why I couldn’t levy my charms to continue that streak!
There was only one problem.
“The Snogging Siren! Happy hour every hour! Limited to forever! Come visit now!”
“Don’t drown in the sea! Drown in Jolly Simoon’s Bar! Coupon card now available! Get triple stamps for each drink now!”
“Tides get you down? Rise above your woes at the Golden Crab!”
“ALCOHOL. LOTS OF ALCOHOL.”
This entire town … was one glorified bar!
Everywhere I looked, barmaids carrying brightly painted signs over their heads made up the only source of colour amongst this decrepit port.
I fought against my better judgement to leave, then swept towards the only source of familiarity instead.
“Evenin’,” said the crêpe stallkeeper. “What can I–”
“You. Peasant. Which amongst these disreputable establishments is the most able source for discerning information regarding the location of the man scandalously referred to as the Golden Prince?”
The stallkeeper blinked. Still, he flipped a fresh crêpe with his spatula.
“Are you here to buy a crêpe?”
“Are they flambéed?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not.”
“In that case, I can’t–”
“Wait. Is the cream you sell single or double?”
“Single.” The stallkeeper’s expression brightened. He began lifting up a crêpe. “Do you–”
“Then still no. I have standards. I cannot consume anything with a single option when a double variety exists.”
The stallkeeper eyed me blankly.
“I can just use double the amount of single cream, if that helps.”
“Is that the same thing?”
A pause.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Very well. Two crêpes with double single cream and an assortment of seasonal fruits. And bananas if they’re available. But only if finely sliced. And not too ripe.”
“Chocolate sauce,” added Coppelia, poking me in the waist.
“One with chocolate sauce. And also information regarding which bar is the most reliable for news that won’t result in me returning for a refund of my time.”
The man nodded throughout my order, then shrugged.
“I just make crêpes, ma’am,” he said, as he went about constructing what I knew to be the most palatable food item I’d find on this desolate rock. “Though if you really want to find the Golden Prince, I wouldn’t try any of the local bars. They’re for stories and bad drinks. You could try the Sea Stone.”
I pursed my lips.
“I don’t want the Sea Stone, thank you.”
“Sure? It’s a magical artifact that can point you in any direction you need.”
“So I’ve been told … 5 minutes ago. I have no wish to traverse any dungeons or bang my head against archaic puzzles today. I’m in a rush, you see.”
The stallkeeper hummed to himself as he began rolling the crêpes.
“Why not try the Adventurer’s Guild?”
“Excuse me?”
“The Adventurer’s Guild. They handle requests. Sounds like something right up their alley.”
I regarded the man with a querying look.
“It’s precisely because of the Adventurer’s Guild that I’m here. Sadly, I’m afraid the only thing those slovenly louts can find is the occasional cat. And not very well, considering how many I personally located. I assure you that Trierport’s guild couldn’t find the Golden Prince even if he was stood naked outside their front step, much less across the far horizon.”
The stallkeeper mirrored my puzzled expression. It only made me more confused.
“Trierport? No, I obviously mean the Adventurer’s Guild here.”
“Here? What do you mean … here?”
“In Port Defiance. The local Adventurer’s Guild branch.”
My mouth opened wordlessly.
Several moments passed, during which only the sound of two fresh crêpes being assembled in a cone of parchment could be heard.
“Here you are. Two crêpes. Double single cream. Spring fruits. Not too ripe bananas. One with chocolate sauce. That’ll be 3 silver crowns, please.”
Coppelia stuck her head past me.
She waved her hand in front of my face, then opened my coin purse. She plucked out a handful of crowns for the stallkeeper, then accepted both crêpes.
It was only after she’d finished hers and began eating mine that I finally found the will to respond.
“Oho … ohohoho … ohoohohohoho … !”
My angelic smile lit up the stall.
The crêpe vendor recoiled from the divine light, a look of horror on his face as he shielded his unworthy eyes.
And still, I did not stop laughing.
“Ohohoho … oohhohohohoho … ohoho … ohohoho … oho … ho …”
For the first time in … how long had it been?
Days? Weeks?
This journey, though short by the measurement of the seasons, was long and arduous for a princess such as myself whose feet had not been massaged since before the day I set out. And I refused to count whatever it is Coppelia had done when she’d almost crushed my little toe in an attempt.
At last, I wiped a tear from my eye.
“Very well, peasant, wait, no … I hereby appoint you future jester to my personal retinue.”
“... Huh?”
“You may have a place beside my future handmaiden and my future … whatever it is I shall have the barkeeper and receptionist do. My congratulations. You have ascended past your peers and many others besides. Though I’ve thrown rotten pears at many aspiring jesters in my time, none have ever caused me to feel this much mirth. Truly, that was a fine jest.”
For some strange reason, the stallkeeper turned his eyes to Coppelia. She gave him a thumbs-up while eating into my crêpe.
The man returned to blinking at me instead.
“Uh, what jest?”
“That the Adventurer’s Guild would have a branch even upon a pirate haven in the middle of the sea. You combined their well documented interference in state politics at all levels with their parasitic ability to cling even to the side of an exploding volcano. A simple, but well-timed jab at their persistent qualities as stains. I embarrass myself with such an uncouth reaction, but it has been too long since I last laughed at anything which wasn’t an attempt at treason.”
The stallkeeper glanced behind me, saw no waiting customers, then visibly deflated.
“No jest.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Adventurer’s Guild has a branch here.”
My charitable smile waned.
“Really now, humour can only be stretched so much. Why, it almost sounds like you’re truly claiming that a branch of the Adventurer’s Guild exists here on this isolated rock! The same guild which is currently attempting to bribe half the world’s adventurers to do away with the same pirates who doubtless reside here! … Because that would make little sense. And when I say little, I mean none. Even for an organisation as nonsensical as the Adventurer’s Guild, it defies all reason and logic. Even they would not endeavour to erect a branch on a hidden pirate haven.”
In response, the stallkeeper leaned down.
I heard the sound of scribbles, before a diagram was produced on one of the parchment cones.
I peered down at what was a crude set of arrows.
“What is this?”
“Directions.”
I stared hard at the makeshift map.
Then, I turned away without a second look.
I didn’t need directions. After all, I knew precisely where to head to right now.
“Hey, hey, where are we going?~” said Coppelia, smiling extremely cheerfully between mouthfuls of crêpe.
“Back to the ship.”
“Oh, okay. Are we leaving?~”
“No.” I clenched my fists as I quickened my pace. “I’m going to see if I can borrow a cannon.”
As a princess, I was host to a range of useful and highly specialised skills.
I could, for example, identify the origin of the oranges used to make bergamot tea down to its latitude and longitude. More than once, trade delegations had been left red-faced as I laughed their poorly sourced wares out of our halls.
But here?
Here, there was no laughing.
Only pain.
Because with each waft of debauchery that made its way to my delicate nose, I could only imagine which sewer these brigands had crawled through, died in, exhumed and then necromatically reanimated from before finding themselves in my presence.
I sniffed the air and groaned.
My regret was immediate. Not only in regards to venturing into this hive of debauchery.
But everything.
The magically self-conjuring vanilla cheesecake I consumed when I snuck into the kitchen late at night? Regret. The fledgling adventure romance novel I once submitted under alias? Regret. The baby portrait of myself I destroyed when I did away with an errant bee flying overhead ? … No regret.
But such was the power of the reek which pervaded this … town, that I could only contemplate every life decision that had ever brought me here.
Yes, there could be no doubt.
This … This was no place for a princess!
Drunkards swaying with leering grins! Scoundrels shoulder to shoulder with comrades while snaking arms around each other’s coin purses! Stall vendors selling crêpes without a banana trifle option!
It was awful!
Peering down upon this haven of hooligans from the deck of a ship had concealed the worst of its qualities. But here, scarcely a few steps past the docks, there was little to hide the revelry of ill-meaning activity.
Why, I could feel my princess points dropping with each moment I was here!
My royal bearing was being eroded like the rocks which made up this illicit hideaway! This could not be allowed to happen!
I wrinkled my nose as I cast my frown around.
“Come, Coppelia. We should hasten to locate the leader of these brigands before our dignity rots away like the driftwood upon the shore.”
“I mean, until we start headbutting walls, I think our dignity’s good.”
“Excuse me?”
My future handmaiden pointed at a wall.
And also the man brawling with it.
And losing.
A merry gathering crowded him, yelling vulgar words of encouragement as he slowly excavated a hole in the facade using nothing but his forehead. A hole which he then proceeded to refill with the contents of his own regurgitation.
I resisted the urge to withdraw to the ship–although mostly because I had little faith I wouldn’t be seeing the same scene happening there as well.
I shuddered.
Sailors.
Though I was assured that not every ruffian to grace this illegal harbour was a pirate, I could not help but believe that the captain who ferried me here was both highly biased and at least partially blind.
Even so, there was no need to be inefficient in my search.
I endeavoured to spend as little time here as possible, and that meant querying those who I knew without doubt could lead me to my destination. Brokers of knowledge, merchants of secrets and occasionally lenders of horses.
For example–
A village barkeeper, whose name I’d forgotten, but whose steed now ferried me to the distant corners of my kingdom.
That’s right!
I had a 100% success rate with information gathering from dispensers of alcohol, and I saw no reason why I couldn’t levy my charms to continue that streak!
There was only one problem.
“The Snogging Siren! Happy hour every hour! Limited to forever! Come visit now!”
“Don’t drown in the sea! Drown in Jolly Simoon’s Bar! Coupon card now available! Get triple stamps for each drink now!”
“Tides get you down? Rise above your woes at the Golden Crab!”
“ALCOHOL. LOTS OF ALCOHOL.”
This entire town … was one glorified bar!
Everywhere I looked, barmaids carrying brightly painted signs over their heads made up the only source of colour amongst this decrepit port.
I fought against my better judgement to leave, then swept towards the only source of familiarity instead.
“Evenin’,” said the crêpe stallkeeper. “What can I–”
“You. Peasant. Which amongst these disreputable establishments is the most able source for discerning information regarding the location of the man scandalously referred to as the Golden Prince?”
The stallkeeper blinked. Still, he flipped a fresh crêpe with his spatula.
“Are you here to buy a crêpe?”
“Are they flambéed?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not.”
“In that case, I can’t–”
“Wait. Is the cream you sell single or double?”
“Single.” The stallkeeper’s expression brightened. He began lifting up a crêpe. “Do you–”
“Then still no. I have standards. I cannot consume anything with a single option when a double variety exists.”
The stallkeeper eyed me blankly.
“I can just use double the amount of single cream, if that helps.”
“Is that the same thing?”
A pause.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Very well. Two crêpes with double single cream and an assortment of seasonal fruits. And bananas if they’re available. But only if finely sliced. And not too ripe.”
“Chocolate sauce,” added Coppelia, poking me in the waist.
“One with chocolate sauce. And also information regarding which bar is the most reliable for news that won’t result in me returning for a refund of my time.”
The man nodded throughout my order, then shrugged.
“I just make crêpes, ma’am,” he said, as he went about constructing what I knew to be the most palatable food item I’d find on this desolate rock. “Though if you really want to find the Golden Prince, I wouldn’t try any of the local bars. They’re for stories and bad drinks. You could try the Sea Stone.”
I pursed my lips.
“I don’t want the Sea Stone, thank you.”
“Sure? It’s a magical artifact that can point you in any direction you need.”
“So I’ve been told … 5 minutes ago. I have no wish to traverse any dungeons or bang my head against archaic puzzles today. I’m in a rush, you see.”
The stallkeeper hummed to himself as he began rolling the crêpes.
“Why not try the Adventurer’s Guild?”
“Excuse me?”
“The Adventurer’s Guild. They handle requests. Sounds like something right up their alley.”
I regarded the man with a querying look.
“It’s precisely because of the Adventurer’s Guild that I’m here. Sadly, I’m afraid the only thing those slovenly louts can find is the occasional cat. And not very well, considering how many I personally located. I assure you that Trierport’s guild couldn’t find the Golden Prince even if he was stood naked outside their front step, much less across the far horizon.”
The stallkeeper mirrored my puzzled expression. It only made me more confused.
“Trierport? No, I obviously mean the Adventurer’s Guild here.”
“Here? What do you mean … here?”
“In Port Defiance. The local Adventurer’s Guild branch.”
My mouth opened wordlessly.
Several moments passed, during which only the sound of two fresh crêpes being assembled in a cone of parchment could be heard.
“Here you are. Two crêpes. Double single cream. Spring fruits. Not too ripe bananas. One with chocolate sauce. That’ll be 3 silver crowns, please.”
Coppelia stuck her head past me.
She waved her hand in front of my face, then opened my coin purse. She plucked out a handful of crowns for the stallkeeper, then accepted both crêpes.
It was only after she’d finished hers and began eating mine that I finally found the will to respond.
“Oho … ohohoho … ohoohohohoho … !”
My angelic smile lit up the stall.
The crêpe vendor recoiled from the divine light, a look of horror on his face as he shielded his unworthy eyes.
And still, I did not stop laughing.
“Ohohoho … oohhohohohoho … ohoho … ohohoho … oho … ho …”
For the first time in … how long had it been?
Days? Weeks?
This journey, though short by the measurement of the seasons, was long and arduous for a princess such as myself whose feet had not been massaged since before the day I set out. And I refused to count whatever it is Coppelia had done when she’d almost crushed my little toe in an attempt.
At last, I wiped a tear from my eye.
“Very well, peasant, wait, no … I hereby appoint you future jester to my personal retinue.”
“... Huh?”
“You may have a place beside my future handmaiden and my future … whatever it is I shall have the barkeeper and receptionist do. My congratulations. You have ascended past your peers and many others besides. Though I’ve thrown rotten pears at many aspiring jesters in my time, none have ever caused me to feel this much mirth. Truly, that was a fine jest.”
For some strange reason, the stallkeeper turned his eyes to Coppelia. She gave him a thumbs-up while eating into my crêpe.
The man returned to blinking at me instead.
“Uh, what jest?”
“That the Adventurer’s Guild would have a branch even upon a pirate haven in the middle of the sea. You combined their well documented interference in state politics at all levels with their parasitic ability to cling even to the side of an exploding volcano. A simple, but well-timed jab at their persistent qualities as stains. I embarrass myself with such an uncouth reaction, but it has been too long since I last laughed at anything which wasn’t an attempt at treason.”
The stallkeeper glanced behind me, saw no waiting customers, then visibly deflated.
“No jest.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Adventurer’s Guild has a branch here.”
My charitable smile waned.
“Really now, humour can only be stretched so much. Why, it almost sounds like you’re truly claiming that a branch of the Adventurer’s Guild exists here on this isolated rock! The same guild which is currently attempting to bribe half the world’s adventurers to do away with the same pirates who doubtless reside here! … Because that would make little sense. And when I say little, I mean none. Even for an organisation as nonsensical as the Adventurer’s Guild, it defies all reason and logic. Even they would not endeavour to erect a branch on a hidden pirate haven.”
In response, the stallkeeper leaned down.
I heard the sound of scribbles, before a diagram was produced on one of the parchment cones.
I peered down at what was a crude set of arrows.
“What is this?”
“Directions.”
I stared hard at the makeshift map.
Then, I turned away without a second look.
I didn’t need directions. After all, I knew precisely where to head to right now.
“Hey, hey, where are we going?~” said Coppelia, smiling extremely cheerfully between mouthfuls of crêpe.
“Back to the ship.”
“Oh, okay. Are we leaving?~”
“No.” I clenched my fists as I quickened my pace. “I’m going to see if I can borrow a cannon.”
