The Kingdom Under The Mountain was as much of an enigma today as it was the day it was first discovered. Or rather, the day the dwarves discovered us.
Even though the written word was as sparse as a farmer with clean overalls, that first meeting remains one of the most documented events in the annals of history.
All the more so since it was so one-sided.
The dwarves had known about us for as long as they’d known the stones. They’d simply chosen to avoid interaction.
And for good reason.
After all, when princesses were few and far between, all the inhabitants of the continent must have appeared little different than the rock wyrms they tussled for space with.
Yet even now, few from above ever visited the realm beneath the earth.
Not because we weren’t invited. We simply couldn’t. The air was different there. Stark and foreboding, as grim as the darkness of the tunnels.
Though tales were often told of cities of chiselled stone more immaculate than the finest of our cities, more was told of the dangers it took to reach them. No official roads existed between upstairs and down. A point many took as evidence of the dwarves' reluctance to share passage with outsiders.
An arrangement exploited in full.
After all, dwarves now enjoyed their turn in the sun.
And in some cases, beneath the unremitting glare of a princess with a schedule to keep and no patience to offer.
“... How quaint,” I said flatly, all the while studying the dwarf.
“Excuse me?”
I wrinkled my nose.
The sudden appearance of a troupe of trained beast handlers coinciding with the arrival of a horde of monsters.
Some would take it as a stroke of fortune. I took it as something else.
An uninspired insult.
Here was a scheme not spun by an errant nobleman, but by a jester in the guise of a dwarven master. How low my day had begun.
“Please correct me if I’m mistaken, Master Borin–”
“Morin.”
“Master Borin. Am I being told that the local baron has hired you to take responsibility for these wandering, unseasonal monsters?”
“A fine man, Baron Talbrent is. Did not hesitate. As I said, we were just passing through. But he knew of our tamers and rushed over himself as soon as the worst of the monsters were sighted.”
“I see … and you offered your services?”
I ensured my lack of overwhelming gratitude was present.
The dwarf, in turn, checked his posture. He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, the smile on his face losing the hue of a lead jester and taking on the poise of a dwarven master.
“Of course not. That’d be taking advantage of a terrible situation. We volunteered our help without quibble.”
“Is that so? How generous.”
“Indeed, the mammoths only tore through our camp because so many of us were defending the main road. The human town was at risk.”
“A valiant sacrifice, to defend life and property at the cost of your own.”
“It was our obligation, if not our duty.”
“Then, am I to assume that once your efforts to defend the nearby town had succeeded, you were able to appraise that this incredibly rare mass migration event warranted your continued presence at the cost of the local nobility’s coffers?”
The dwarf’s smile became noticeably colder.
“... If I may presume your official station, which I should note you’ve not provided any information regarding, I should say that it’s extremely unbecoming to make the insinuations you do with so little regards to the facts. As I said, we volunteered at great cost.”
I rolled my eyes.
The only thing unbecoming was assuming I had the same lack of wits as a baron from the countryside. A bar so low I couldn’t reach it if I slipped.
“A cost you espouse to more than just myself. Yet I’m willing to offer my apologies if required. So enlighten me. This mass migration event. How, exactly, were so many deadly creatures able to traverse so many nations and so much land before miraculously arriving at the same place as your circus?”
“This is a rare, but well documented phenomena.”
“Incorrect. This is my first time hearing of such a calamity in any of the books struck upon my … my excited eyes as I study. And I would know. A passage describing such an event would constitute at least a weighty chapter.”
The dwarf wore a look of indignation, no longer permitting the sheen of joviality to show. Here was the picture of a master of his craft having both his worth and his honour insulted. A look I’d seen many times.
Especially just before their faces turned to horror.
“W-What is … !”
Suddenly, the dwarf gasped, his eyes widening.
Hmm.
How curious.
I hadn’t even begun laughing yet. That was usually the signal. And to make it more puzzling, his terror wasn’t even directed towards me.
I turned to the side, then joined him in his look of horror.
“Wooow~ what big tusks you have!”
Standing in the centre of the fenced ring was Coppelia, looking extremely nonchalant as she gazed at the nearest giant frost mammoth slowly parading around the dirt.
As unperturbed as a pigeon amongst a flock of sparrows, Coppelia walked to and fro, ducking beneath the bodies of the mammoths as she eyed the giant creatures from a truly executive seat.
She promptly poked one of them in the back of the knee.
I heard another gasp drawn from beside me.
“W-What … What is she doing?!” said the dwarf, whose name I’d already forgotten. “She shouldn’t be there! That’s … !”
Highly dangerous.
But not to Coppelia, whose smile only continued to brighten as she repeatedly poked one of the mammoths in the back of the knee. Irksome for even the most patient of animals. And yet no blaring of trunks, lowering of tusks or stampeding of heavy feet met her.
In fact–
They were utterly docile.
A highly impressive feat for any creature, let alone these who would command the vast expanse of wherever they called home.
I peered in and looked closer.
Then, I saw the shimmering of light as Coppelia’s finger repeatedly poked the mammoth … and then into it.
A tell-tale glimmering met her fingers, before catching her entire arm as it went right through the mammoth’s knee.
“Magic,” I said simply.
The dwarf’s face suddenly paled. Even his beard lost some of its colour.
All the while, my loyal handmaiden attempted to stand purposefully in front of the mammoths’ line of movement. They deliberately avoided her, yet never even peered down.
“Ahaha~ I knew I was right! You can’t beat Coppelia Vision! And you definitely can’t beat my nose! I can recognise over 473 varieties of manure. Don’t think that by shovelling blended goat and mule waste together that you can trick me!”
I turned to the dwarf, appalled at the low quality fertiliser he was dumping onto my kingdom.
He gave a shrug, his expression indignant.
“What? We source locally.”
I was not impressed.
Why, here was a dwarf defrauding my peasants the cost of a night’s stay in an inn to instead look upon illusioned mammoths!
A despicable act. How were my peasants meant to pay the highly suffocating taxes we demanded of them if their entire incomes were being swallowed up by what they believed to be rare opportunities of fleeting escape from their poverty?
It was repugnant behaviour!
“You may begin grovelling,” I said, kindly pointing before me.
The dwarf’s brows creased as he looked over my attire again, his eyes lingering on my sword.
He then turned to lean on the fence, admiring the creations of his circus … and also the clockwork doll now having the time of her life dancing in and out between them.
Ugh.
Another conversation. Another day.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said with a proud smile. “Notice the small details, such as how the fur sways less to account for the absence of wind within the pavilion. Truth be told, actual mammoths would have been easier to manage. And also far less impressive. To summon illusions of this size, splendour and genuineness takes masterful skill. This is what separates a D-rank mage dedicated to the art of illusionism from the rest. I am no comic tripping over my own feet to earn scraps for my ruined pride. No, not at all. I better reality and match the imagination instead. The dancing, should you see it, will become a memory to truly cherish.”
I rolled my eyes.
Arresting him would also be a memory to cherish. I doubted I’d sentence many dwarves to soap making.
“In short, you desire crowns and applause.”
The dwarf shrugged.
“Crowns, applause and a demand for an encore, actually.”
“Motives as disappointing as your explanation. A mass migration event. Truly?”
A shade of red appeared on the dwarf’s face. One he’d previously hidden through sheer force of will.
“Not the best explanation, true. But not many other ways to explain a mass of monsters appearing without drawing attention to the magic involved.”
“Yes. And enough to burgle the coffers of the local nobility before you flee like thieves in the night. Grand illusions, but a tiny scheme. Now, please follow me as I lead you to the nearest guard for safekeeping.”
“I’d rather not. The Cirque du Sable possesses a great deal of equipment with little ways to transport it safely. And I’ve little trust in the handling of guards. My stalls aside, I dread to think how I’d be handled on the way to the cells.”
“A deep overestimation of my kindness. Cells are a greater joy than what I’m ever inclined to give. Instead, I shall offer the worst punishment those of your ilk may suffer. A swift journey to Soap Island.”
The dwarf had the audacity to look confused.
“Soap Island?”
“Indeed, even the worst punishment is kinder than what your troupe deserves. Still, I won’t throw away meaningful labour.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand. Merely to manufacture faster than you can scrub. An allowance will be made for personal usage, of course. But I expect exports. Not merely bubbles.”
The dwarf looked highly puzzled as he considered his response.
Yet after a moment, he raised himself from the fence, his whip gripped in his hand.
“A peculiar threat. But regardless, I must care for the livelihoods of my own, and so I politely decline. I shall take us on to Granholtz. The audience there are far better, you see, and less likely to wander where they shouldn’t.”
The dwarf raised his whip. I drew Starlight Grace from my side at once.
He eyed my sword, its illuminating light far surpassing the dim glow of his taming instrument. Still, he smiled, his eyes drawn to the keen edge of my blade and the copper ring upon my finger.
“Yes,” he added. “Even should they be unwanted adventurers.”
Poof.
Suddenly, the dwarf’s form dissipated into a cloud of white smoke, leaving not even a print behind.
I waved the stuff away while covering my mouth.
“Hide and seek?” I asked, unsurprised as I stepped through where the dwarf had vanished. “A fine choice to lengthen your impending sentence. Greater still if you intend to raise your magic against me.”
“You’ll forgive me I’ve no intention of facing a drawn sword,” came his voice, different now, clearer and yet further away. “But I’m certain it’ll be an excellent opportunity to train Lucy.”
“Lucy?”
“Lucy. Because as much as I enjoy my work, sometimes, nothing beats the real thing.”
Crack.
The sound of a whip resounded in the air … but its strike had not come for me.
“Grrrowwwwl.”
I looked up.
There, amongst the thin beams holding up the pavilion ceiling, a blot of shadow had taken up residence in the darkness.
Only the ominous growl of hostility revealed its existence. Barely visible to my eyes, its shape was the form of some prowling creature agilely traversing the woodwork.
And then it leapt, landing before me with a gentle thud in defiance of its huge form.
And no wonder.
Because this was a …
“Oooooh~ this is a very big squirrel.”
Confusion filled me at Coppelia’s continued inability to discern a squirrel from a cat. Especially as this was a very large one.
A dire shadow panther.
Before me, the rare figure of a monstrous, yet beautiful feline stretched its sleek and powerful frame.
Noble predators of the wild, these were not summoned beasts conjured from the minds of a mage. They were not ablaze with magical flame or gifted with the power of the elements.
And yet they commanded the hearts of forests, claiming swathes of shadows as their own even as nightmares born of the abyss fought to do the same.
Such a beast slowly rose, then padded around me. Hollow, yet hungry eyes gleamed against Starlight Grace’s light. And yet it was not its considerable size, its tail curled in aggression, nor the serrated fangs which caught my attention.
It was the deep lashes upon its smooth fur.
I frowned.
To use an enchanted whip as a training aid in such a brutish manner. Deplorable. This was not some peasant caught napping in the fields. It was a noble beast of the wilds, requiring naught but an aura of respect to best.
And to think my opinion couldn’t fall lower.
The dire shadow panther met my gaze.
Then, it lowered itself on its hind legs, eyes flickering between my outstretched blade and the part of me it wished to consume as its midday meal.
“Fair warning to you,” said the dwarf’s voice, the ensuing chuckle sounding both distant and close. “Lucy really tears through our feed. We’ll probably have to rename Hungry Hungry Hippogriffs after her.”
Cajoled by whatever cruelty had been inflicted upon it by the demands of its taskmaster, the immense creature bounded clear off the ground. The hind paws left deep imprints in the earth as it dug up the earth behind it.
A leap which could match even the charge of a mounted knight.
The short distance between us vanished. And with its fury released, the great panther gave off a menacing growl. Axeman’s fangs dribbled with a torrent of saliva as it sought to simply swat aside my blade.
Seeing such a sight … I could only react with horror.
Thus, I immediately pointed at the beast leaping towards me.
“Bad!”
“Mrreowwr?!”
The creature’s eyes widened at once.
It swiftly tumbled, rolling over several times before skidding to a halt before my heavy duty scowl.
I pointed furiously at the trail of saliva left in its wake.
A sight as horrific as the day a farmer and his mule had been allowed to wander unleashed within the Royal Villa’s courtyard instead of meeting with the steward by the postern entrance. Even now, the mucus seeping between the gravel was still being dried.
“Bad cat! Very, very bad!”
The dire shadow panther paused, rage giving way to confusion as it looked up at me. As it should do!
Indeed … this was not the first drooling creature I’d quelled for attempting to slobber all over me!
Restive destriers pawing at the ground!
Prideful stallions snorting in my face!
Apple licking at my face!
From the youngest of foals to the mightest of coursers and now the slowest of draft horses, I’d been the victim of dribbling so ghastly that any lesser princess would be shaking from trauma at even the sight of a panting animal!
That’s why–
“Sit.”
I pointed at the ground in front of me.
The shadow panther looked at me in confusion. I pointed again. Then upped my scowl.
It slowly approached–and then it sat.
Ohhohohohohohohoho!
Behold! My [Princess Husbandry]!
Through a lifetime of ignominy at the hands of our stabled mares, I could now command the discipline of any unruly creature which sought to slobber over me … except Apple, who was still a work-in-progress!
Driven by a need to instil training where our gentle stablemasters lacked the heart, my pointing finger was an all-purpose force which no enchanted whip could break … for I was the cruellest of taskmasters!
The sanctity of my face depended on it!
“Down.”
Thus–the feline lowered its head. I stroked it.
“Paw.”
It offered a paw. I shook it.
“Roll.”
It dropped to its side. I kneeled down.
The dire shadow panther proceeded to purr and whimper, its eyes squeezing shut as I proceeded to rub its belly.
“Ohhohohohohohohohoho!” I turned to Coppelia as I worked its soft fur. “Behold, Coppelia! My finger is infallible! Just as I can poke dead maids and comatose mermaids away from the brink, my finger can also quell the most terrifying of feline predators!”
Indeed! With my pointing finger alone, I had personally trained every misbehaving resident in our stables until they were as impeccably behaved as a royal hound!
What was the dribbling of a panther compared to the salivating of a horse?
If I could teach manners to a warsteed, then I could do so with an overly large cat!
“Ppfffttt~ ahhahahahahahahah!”
Beside me, Coppelia covered her mouth with her hands, voicing her amazement at my ability to forestall the grimmest assaults against my personal hygiene with the only language she knew.
Laughter.
Lots and lots of laughter.
“Ahahahaha … ack, hack … ahaha … oh boy, this was a good one~” said Coppelia, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe you’ve just made a giant squirrel roll over like a beagle … it’s great!”
I raised an eyebrow. Not only at her bemusement. But also the fact she knew what a beagle was, but apparently not a squirrel.
Still, even I had to admit that compared to the tenants of our royal stables, this panther proved remarkably obedient.
An excellent trait.
Especially as there was still one last trick for it to give.
Light flooded the end of the pavilion as a section of tarp was swept aside. A shimmer was revealed in the gushing daylight, followed by a kick of dust as a figure swiftly scarpered.
“Aaaand there he goes,” said Coppelia, her hand to her brow as she eyed the small opening left by the tarp. “That one sure gives dwarves a bad name, huh?”
“Not a dwarf. But a rat scurrying from the kitchen through a gap in the wall.”
“Hey! That’s an insult to rats! They work hard for their free food! They jump, skip and climb. This one just uses magic!”
I let out a sigh.
To say I was unimpressed with how my day had begun was to say that reusing tea leaves was only mildly horrific. It wasn’t. It was abominable. And words failed to do my feelings of exasperation justice.
Hence, I leaned to the side and joined Coppelia in eyeing the small gap.
There, shamelessly dashing towards the horizon was a light shimmer, revealed beneath my judging eyes. The only blot to mar the backdrop of the distant mountains.
I stood up, hands retreating from the dire shadow panther’s soft tummy.
Then, I smiled … and pointed at the mirage in the distance.
“Fetch.”
The dire shadow panther froze, its eyes blinking open.
A moment later, it leapt to its paws and bounded off, the tarp barely fluttering as a blur of shadow swiftly merged with the backdrop beyond it.
Soon, a shriek could be heard as a distant blot reappeared in full, its tiny figure being hoisted up by the jaws of a very angry panther. Even from far away, the wriggling reminiscent of a frightened worm could be seen.
Coppelia offered me a querying look.
“You know you could’ve just asked me to catch him too, right?”
I flicked away bits of fur from my palms, then patiently waited for the panther to drag the screaming dwarf back.
“I know.”
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The Kingdom Under The Mountain was as much of an enigma today as it was the day it was first discovered. Or rather, the day the dwarves discovered us.
Even though the written word was as sparse as a farmer with clean overalls, that first meeting remains one of the most documented events in the annals of history.
All the more so since it was so one-sided.
The dwarves had known about us for as long as they’d known the stones. They’d simply chosen to avoid interaction.
And for good reason.
After all, when princesses were few and far between, all the inhabitants of the continent must have appeared little different than the rock wyrms they tussled for space with.
Yet even now, few from above ever visited the realm beneath the earth.
Not because we weren’t invited. We simply couldn’t. The air was different there. Stark and foreboding, as grim as the darkness of the tunnels.
Though tales were often told of cities of chiselled stone more immaculate than the finest of our cities, more was told of the dangers it took to reach them. No official roads existed between upstairs and down. A point many took as evidence of the dwarves' reluctance to share passage with outsiders.
An arrangement exploited in full.
After all, dwarves now enjoyed their turn in the sun.
And in some cases, beneath the unremitting glare of a princess with a schedule to keep and no patience to offer.
“... How quaint,” I said flatly, all the while studying the dwarf.
“Excuse me?”
I wrinkled my nose.
The sudden appearance of a troupe of trained beast handlers coinciding with the arrival of a horde of monsters.
Some would take it as a stroke of fortune. I took it as something else.
An uninspired insult.
Here was a scheme not spun by an errant nobleman, but by a jester in the guise of a dwarven master. How low my day had begun.
“Please correct me if I’m mistaken, Master Borin–”
“Morin.”
“Master Borin. Am I being told that the local baron has hired you to take responsibility for these wandering, unseasonal monsters?”
“A fine man, Baron Talbrent is. Did not hesitate. As I said, we were just passing through. But he knew of our tamers and rushed over himself as soon as the worst of the monsters were sighted.”
“I see … and you offered your services?”
I ensured my lack of overwhelming gratitude was present.
The dwarf, in turn, checked his posture. He straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, the smile on his face losing the hue of a lead jester and taking on the poise of a dwarven master.
“Of course not. That’d be taking advantage of a terrible situation. We volunteered our help without quibble.”
“Is that so? How generous.”
“Indeed, the mammoths only tore through our camp because so many of us were defending the main road. The human town was at risk.”
“A valiant sacrifice, to defend life and property at the cost of your own.”
“It was our obligation, if not our duty.”
“Then, am I to assume that once your efforts to defend the nearby town had succeeded, you were able to appraise that this incredibly rare mass migration event warranted your continued presence at the cost of the local nobility’s coffers?”
The dwarf’s smile became noticeably colder.
“... If I may presume your official station, which I should note you’ve not provided any information regarding, I should say that it’s extremely unbecoming to make the insinuations you do with so little regards to the facts. As I said, we volunteered at great cost.”
I rolled my eyes.
The only thing unbecoming was assuming I had the same lack of wits as a baron from the countryside. A bar so low I couldn’t reach it if I slipped.
“A cost you espouse to more than just myself. Yet I’m willing to offer my apologies if required. So enlighten me. This mass migration event. How, exactly, were so many deadly creatures able to traverse so many nations and so much land before miraculously arriving at the same place as your circus?”
“This is a rare, but well documented phenomena.”
“Incorrect. This is my first time hearing of such a calamity in any of the books struck upon my … my excited eyes as I study. And I would know. A passage describing such an event would constitute at least a weighty chapter.”
The dwarf wore a look of indignation, no longer permitting the sheen of joviality to show. Here was the picture of a master of his craft having both his worth and his honour insulted. A look I’d seen many times.
Especially just before their faces turned to horror.
“W-What is … !”
Suddenly, the dwarf gasped, his eyes widening.
Hmm.
How curious.
I hadn’t even begun laughing yet. That was usually the signal. And to make it more puzzling, his terror wasn’t even directed towards me.
I turned to the side, then joined him in his look of horror.
“Wooow~ what big tusks you have!”
Standing in the centre of the fenced ring was Coppelia, looking extremely nonchalant as she gazed at the nearest giant frost mammoth slowly parading around the dirt.
As unperturbed as a pigeon amongst a flock of sparrows, Coppelia walked to and fro, ducking beneath the bodies of the mammoths as she eyed the giant creatures from a truly executive seat.
She promptly poked one of them in the back of the knee.
I heard another gasp drawn from beside me.
“W-What … What is she doing?!” said the dwarf, whose name I’d already forgotten. “She shouldn’t be there! That’s … !”
Highly dangerous.
But not to Coppelia, whose smile only continued to brighten as she repeatedly poked one of the mammoths in the back of the knee. Irksome for even the most patient of animals. And yet no blaring of trunks, lowering of tusks or stampeding of heavy feet met her.
In fact–
They were utterly docile.
A highly impressive feat for any creature, let alone these who would command the vast expanse of wherever they called home.
I peered in and looked closer.
Then, I saw the shimmering of light as Coppelia’s finger repeatedly poked the mammoth … and then into it.
A tell-tale glimmering met her fingers, before catching her entire arm as it went right through the mammoth’s knee.
“Magic,” I said simply.
The dwarf’s face suddenly paled. Even his beard lost some of its colour.
All the while, my loyal handmaiden attempted to stand purposefully in front of the mammoths’ line of movement. They deliberately avoided her, yet never even peered down.
“Ahaha~ I knew I was right! You can’t beat Coppelia Vision! And you definitely can’t beat my nose! I can recognise over 473 varieties of manure. Don’t think that by shovelling blended goat and mule waste together that you can trick me!”
I turned to the dwarf, appalled at the low quality fertiliser he was dumping onto my kingdom.
He gave a shrug, his expression indignant.
“What? We source locally.”
I was not impressed.
Why, here was a dwarf defrauding my peasants the cost of a night’s stay in an inn to instead look upon illusioned mammoths!
A despicable act. How were my peasants meant to pay the highly suffocating taxes we demanded of them if their entire incomes were being swallowed up by what they believed to be rare opportunities of fleeting escape from their poverty?
It was repugnant behaviour!
“You may begin grovelling,” I said, kindly pointing before me.
The dwarf’s brows creased as he looked over my attire again, his eyes lingering on my sword.
He then turned to lean on the fence, admiring the creations of his circus … and also the clockwork doll now having the time of her life dancing in and out between them.
Ugh.
Another conversation. Another day.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said with a proud smile. “Notice the small details, such as how the fur sways less to account for the absence of wind within the pavilion. Truth be told, actual mammoths would have been easier to manage. And also far less impressive. To summon illusions of this size, splendour and genuineness takes masterful skill. This is what separates a D-rank mage dedicated to the art of illusionism from the rest. I am no comic tripping over my own feet to earn scraps for my ruined pride. No, not at all. I better reality and match the imagination instead. The dancing, should you see it, will become a memory to truly cherish.”
I rolled my eyes.
Arresting him would also be a memory to cherish. I doubted I’d sentence many dwarves to soap making.
“In short, you desire crowns and applause.”
The dwarf shrugged.
“Crowns, applause and a demand for an encore, actually.”
“Motives as disappointing as your explanation. A mass migration event. Truly?”
A shade of red appeared on the dwarf’s face. One he’d previously hidden through sheer force of will.
“Not the best explanation, true. But not many other ways to explain a mass of monsters appearing without drawing attention to the magic involved.”
“Yes. And enough to burgle the coffers of the local nobility before you flee like thieves in the night. Grand illusions, but a tiny scheme. Now, please follow me as I lead you to the nearest guard for safekeeping.”
“I’d rather not. The Cirque du Sable possesses a great deal of equipment with little ways to transport it safely. And I’ve little trust in the handling of guards. My stalls aside, I dread to think how I’d be handled on the way to the cells.”
“A deep overestimation of my kindness. Cells are a greater joy than what I’m ever inclined to give. Instead, I shall offer the worst punishment those of your ilk may suffer. A swift journey to Soap Island.”
The dwarf had the audacity to look confused.
“Soap Island?”
“Indeed, even the worst punishment is kinder than what your troupe deserves. Still, I won’t throw away meaningful labour.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to understand. Merely to manufacture faster than you can scrub. An allowance will be made for personal usage, of course. But I expect exports. Not merely bubbles.”
The dwarf looked highly puzzled as he considered his response.
Yet after a moment, he raised himself from the fence, his whip gripped in his hand.
“A peculiar threat. But regardless, I must care for the livelihoods of my own, and so I politely decline. I shall take us on to Granholtz. The audience there are far better, you see, and less likely to wander where they shouldn’t.”
The dwarf raised his whip. I drew Starlight Grace from my side at once.
He eyed my sword, its illuminating light far surpassing the dim glow of his taming instrument. Still, he smiled, his eyes drawn to the keen edge of my blade and the copper ring upon my finger.
“Yes,” he added. “Even should they be unwanted adventurers.”
Poof.
Suddenly, the dwarf’s form dissipated into a cloud of white smoke, leaving not even a print behind.
I waved the stuff away while covering my mouth.
“Hide and seek?” I asked, unsurprised as I stepped through where the dwarf had vanished. “A fine choice to lengthen your impending sentence. Greater still if you intend to raise your magic against me.”
“You’ll forgive me I’ve no intention of facing a drawn sword,” came his voice, different now, clearer and yet further away. “But I’m certain it’ll be an excellent opportunity to train Lucy.”
“Lucy?”
“Lucy. Because as much as I enjoy my work, sometimes, nothing beats the real thing.”
Crack.
The sound of a whip resounded in the air … but its strike had not come for me.
“Grrrowwwwl.”
I looked up.
There, amongst the thin beams holding up the pavilion ceiling, a blot of shadow had taken up residence in the darkness.
Only the ominous growl of hostility revealed its existence. Barely visible to my eyes, its shape was the form of some prowling creature agilely traversing the woodwork.
And then it leapt, landing before me with a gentle thud in defiance of its huge form.
And no wonder.
Because this was a …
“Oooooh~ this is a very big squirrel.”
Confusion filled me at Coppelia’s continued inability to discern a squirrel from a cat. Especially as this was a very large one.
A dire shadow panther.
Before me, the rare figure of a monstrous, yet beautiful feline stretched its sleek and powerful frame.
Noble predators of the wild, these were not summoned beasts conjured from the minds of a mage. They were not ablaze with magical flame or gifted with the power of the elements.
And yet they commanded the hearts of forests, claiming swathes of shadows as their own even as nightmares born of the abyss fought to do the same.
Such a beast slowly rose, then padded around me. Hollow, yet hungry eyes gleamed against Starlight Grace’s light. And yet it was not its considerable size, its tail curled in aggression, nor the serrated fangs which caught my attention.
It was the deep lashes upon its smooth fur.
I frowned.
To use an enchanted whip as a training aid in such a brutish manner. Deplorable. This was not some peasant caught napping in the fields. It was a noble beast of the wilds, requiring naught but an aura of respect to best.
And to think my opinion couldn’t fall lower.
The dire shadow panther met my gaze.
Then, it lowered itself on its hind legs, eyes flickering between my outstretched blade and the part of me it wished to consume as its midday meal.
“Fair warning to you,” said the dwarf’s voice, the ensuing chuckle sounding both distant and close. “Lucy really tears through our feed. We’ll probably have to rename Hungry Hungry Hippogriffs after her.”
Cajoled by whatever cruelty had been inflicted upon it by the demands of its taskmaster, the immense creature bounded clear off the ground. The hind paws left deep imprints in the earth as it dug up the earth behind it.
A leap which could match even the charge of a mounted knight.
The short distance between us vanished. And with its fury released, the great panther gave off a menacing growl. Axeman’s fangs dribbled with a torrent of saliva as it sought to simply swat aside my blade.
Seeing such a sight … I could only react with horror.
Thus, I immediately pointed at the beast leaping towards me.
“Bad!”
“Mrreowwr?!”
The creature’s eyes widened at once.
It swiftly tumbled, rolling over several times before skidding to a halt before my heavy duty scowl.
I pointed furiously at the trail of saliva left in its wake.
A sight as horrific as the day a farmer and his mule had been allowed to wander unleashed within the Royal Villa’s courtyard instead of meeting with the steward by the postern entrance. Even now, the mucus seeping between the gravel was still being dried.
“Bad cat! Very, very bad!”
The dire shadow panther paused, rage giving way to confusion as it looked up at me. As it should do!
Indeed … this was not the first drooling creature I’d quelled for attempting to slobber all over me!
Restive destriers pawing at the ground!
Prideful stallions snorting in my face!
Apple licking at my face!
From the youngest of foals to the mightest of coursers and now the slowest of draft horses, I’d been the victim of dribbling so ghastly that any lesser princess would be shaking from trauma at even the sight of a panting animal!
That’s why–
“Sit.”
I pointed at the ground in front of me.
The shadow panther looked at me in confusion. I pointed again. Then upped my scowl.
It slowly approached–and then it sat.
Ohhohohohohohohoho!
Behold! My [Princess Husbandry]!
Through a lifetime of ignominy at the hands of our stabled mares, I could now command the discipline of any unruly creature which sought to slobber over me … except Apple, who was still a work-in-progress!
Driven by a need to instil training where our gentle stablemasters lacked the heart, my pointing finger was an all-purpose force which no enchanted whip could break … for I was the cruellest of taskmasters!
The sanctity of my face depended on it!
“Down.”
Thus–the feline lowered its head. I stroked it.
“Paw.”
It offered a paw. I shook it.
“Roll.”
It dropped to its side. I kneeled down.
The dire shadow panther proceeded to purr and whimper, its eyes squeezing shut as I proceeded to rub its belly.
“Ohhohohohohohohohoho!” I turned to Coppelia as I worked its soft fur. “Behold, Coppelia! My finger is infallible! Just as I can poke dead maids and comatose mermaids away from the brink, my finger can also quell the most terrifying of feline predators!”
Indeed! With my pointing finger alone, I had personally trained every misbehaving resident in our stables until they were as impeccably behaved as a royal hound!
What was the dribbling of a panther compared to the salivating of a horse?
If I could teach manners to a warsteed, then I could do so with an overly large cat!
“Ppfffttt~ ahhahahahahahahah!”
Beside me, Coppelia covered her mouth with her hands, voicing her amazement at my ability to forestall the grimmest assaults against my personal hygiene with the only language she knew.
Laughter.
Lots and lots of laughter.
“Ahahahaha … ack, hack … ahaha … oh boy, this was a good one~” said Coppelia, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe you’ve just made a giant squirrel roll over like a beagle … it’s great!”
I raised an eyebrow. Not only at her bemusement. But also the fact she knew what a beagle was, but apparently not a squirrel.
Still, even I had to admit that compared to the tenants of our royal stables, this panther proved remarkably obedient.
An excellent trait.
Especially as there was still one last trick for it to give.
Light flooded the end of the pavilion as a section of tarp was swept aside. A shimmer was revealed in the gushing daylight, followed by a kick of dust as a figure swiftly scarpered.
“Aaaand there he goes,” said Coppelia, her hand to her brow as she eyed the small opening left by the tarp. “That one sure gives dwarves a bad name, huh?”
“Not a dwarf. But a rat scurrying from the kitchen through a gap in the wall.”
“Hey! That’s an insult to rats! They work hard for their free food! They jump, skip and climb. This one just uses magic!”
I let out a sigh.
To say I was unimpressed with how my day had begun was to say that reusing tea leaves was only mildly horrific. It wasn’t. It was abominable. And words failed to do my feelings of exasperation justice.
Hence, I leaned to the side and joined Coppelia in eyeing the small gap.
There, shamelessly dashing towards the horizon was a light shimmer, revealed beneath my judging eyes. The only blot to mar the backdrop of the distant mountains.
I stood up, hands retreating from the dire shadow panther’s soft tummy.
Then, I smiled … and pointed at the mirage in the distance.
“Fetch.”
The dire shadow panther froze, its eyes blinking open.
A moment later, it leapt to its paws and bounded off, the tarp barely fluttering as a blur of shadow swiftly merged with the backdrop beyond it.
Soon, a shriek could be heard as a distant blot reappeared in full, its tiny figure being hoisted up by the jaws of a very angry panther. Even from far away, the wriggling reminiscent of a frightened worm could be seen.
Coppelia offered me a querying look.
“You know you could’ve just asked me to catch him too, right?”
I flicked away bits of fur from my palms, then patiently waited for the panther to drag the screaming dwarf back.
“I know.”
kayenano
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