A row of darkened eyes met me as I idly approached.

Granholtz’s finest remained mounted on their mailed war steeds, their black halberds and lances almost seeming to pierce the clouds as they rose high above their heads. 

Yet it was their commander who I sent my least abiding smile towards.

He stood beside a destrier who would see even the most seasoned of stablemasters pause before agreeing to house him. But even compared to the wild mane of his horse, it was little to the unkempt nature of Rensdraldt Fortress’s most senior representative.

His hair ran past his shoulders, falling across his pauldrons with little regard for the decoration they hid. And though his face was shaven, little could be seen other than muscle, his eyes lost in sockets as dark as any well. 

Were he in a tournament, it would not be as a knight before the nobility of the realm, but as a gladiator hurling insults at both his opponent and the hollering crowds of drunkards. 

Yet even while surrounded by his nation’s most elite soldiers, he held himself higher, an oak supported by that brutish greatsword upon his back.

For a nation which overdid on the colour black, his weapon was the only thing to offer an excuse.

Obsidian.

Black as the deepest midnight, yet sharp as the dawn through my curtain windows, it was a precious stone said to represent his nation as much as any banner. A symbol of wealth and status in the Grand Duchy. And here this man possessed an entire weapon made from it. 

Clearly no mere officer. 

And so as I paused before him and all his company of misfits without a single map between them, I nodded my head, recognising the task ahead.

Yes, it was time to begin negotiations.

My poise more unshakable than any guild receptionist, I took in a deep breath, my brows creased as I met the waiting gaze of my opposite number. In those dark eyes, I recognised someone whose life had not been honed through lessons in defeat, but unremitting triumph.

Even so, I was a princess. 

And I could no sooner turn than I could falter.

Without hesitation, I pointed at the sword upon his back.

“... How much?”

The maned man blinked at me.

“Excuse me?” he said, his tone surprisingly polite.

“I wish to purchase your weapon. How much will you consider to be a reasonable offer?”

Whatever expression the man before me possessed, it was lost beneath cheeks as rigid as any dragon’s. Even so, the meaning of his silence was clear. 

Ohohoho … he hadn’t expected me to demand a price from the onset!

Naive! 

He may best me in years, but when it came to the art of haggling, I was in my element! 

Why, I’d negotiated a bottomless bag from troll merchants in lieu of a mere 500 gold crowns! 

That was only the cost of two books! I was exceptional!

And now … it was time to negotiate my finest purchase yet!

Ohhohohohohohoho!

Why, I had absolutely no idea when my next opportunity to acquire such a vast amount of that rare stone would be available to me!

Obsidian! The most prized stone to be mined in Granholtz! 

Exceptionally hard to source and only in small quantities. This was no black opal, worth only the amusement of watching servants weeping in tears as I used them as charcoal for the hearthfire. Obsidian would be utterly immune to such flames, its surface as cool and polished as the moment I callously tossed it in.

Here was something even my family owned only in small quantities. And no wonder. The Grand Duchy hoarded its supply, with even its fragments handed down as heirlooms over the finest silver. 

And this man … possessed a ridiculously sized sword of it!

What a marvellous waste!

Such needless opulence! I would gladly bring this back as a gift to be carelessly tossed into the royal vault, forgotten with all the other priceless items we possessed!

“My apologies, but I don’t quite understand?”

His tone was deep but courteous. And also confused. 

Or so he wished to appear.

My, an experienced opponent? To feign having absolutely no idea how much a sword made entirely of obsidian cost was a tactic I planned to use myself. 

“The sword you possess. How many crowns? I’m willing to negotiate. Know, however, that I’m aware of its true value, and so any price you suggest must be at least 90 … no, 95% lower than what you’re initially hoping to table.”

A particularly bushy eyebrow was raised at me.

“My sword isn’t for sale.”

“You haven’t heard my counteroffer.”

“Nor will I. This sword was personally gifted to me by Her Radiance, the Grand Duchess.”

“Yes, well, that will reduce the price, but I assure you I’ll still offer a generous one.”

The rigid man merely stared at me in response, his dark wells for eyes appraising me as much as I did the new heirloom I hoped to add to my family’s forgotten collection. 

“Your generosity will have to be declined, I’m afraid,” he eventually replied. “Were I to sell this sword for even a kingdom, it would not match the cost I’d need to pay in my head.”

“We have a head,” I said, gesturing to Coppelia. “We can provide one if necessary.”

My loyal handmaiden wasted no time.

Her wide smile lighting up this impromptu business negotiation more than the moonlight ever could, she immediately brought her hands together to a crackle of fizzing darkness.

Clap.

As she released them, a familiar window to the abyss appeared between her palms.

Familiar to me, that is.

The stout war steeds reacted at once, concerned neighs filling the air as their hooves retreated from what was, yes … admittedly a very concerning block of pure darkness. Their riders were forced to break from their guises as watching statues, hands tugging at reins to calm their noble mounts. 

Few returned to the spot they were before.

Only the wild destrier before me remained still, as did his owner.

Even so, I saw with a note of satisfaction how the wells in his eyes had opened, revealing a shimmer of curiosity at the bottom. At least until Coppelia pulled out the beginning of a horn.

A moment later–the scaled head of a black wyvern populated by two very wide golden eyes peeked out of the magical window.

A chorus of panicked cries filled the air, lances and halberds lowering so fast that many struck the grass. Horses either leaped backwards or turned and bolted, their famed riders becoming mere passengers upon their saddles as they rushed away from the maw of the black wyvern as it began to widen, revealing only one broken fang amidst a row of serrated death.

Then, it fully opened.

“Save me! Oh gods. I saw … I saw it. The thing that’s here. Please! You have to save me from–”

“Ahahahaha~” Coppelia shoved the talking head back in, all the while waving a hand dismissively for good measure. “Don’t mind him. He’s just getting used to his new surroundings.”

“Please! I beg you! Save me! End me! It comes! It’s a–”

“Lalalalalaalalalalaa~”

The example display over, I nodded as my loyal handmaiden closed the still highly unexplained Clockwork Repository. She did so with another clap of her hands, wiping away the unfortunate spittle that had been expelled from the equally unfortunate archdruid. 

The commander of the Rendsraldt Fortress blinked at where the black window had come and gone, paying no heed to the panicked breaths and confusion of those around him as they struggled and failed to control their steeds.

“Was that the black wyvern earlier seen in the sky?” he asked calmly.

“It was. Despite possessing wings, this particular creature was far more deserving of the dirt.”

“I see. And may I ask how it came to be brought down to where it deserved? A wyvern is no common adversary. Especially for those without a greatbow and a legion of archers on hand.”

“I don’t require a greatbow or any legion for unwelcome visitors. Only my boot and the complete expenditure of my patience. And as you can see, it strikes far more delicately than any arrow. The wyvern head is in excellent condition. Although already promised to my loyal handmaiden, I believe an amicable solution can be agreed upon to suit all parties.”

“I accept all major denominations,” said Coppelia brightly. “Gold crowns. Gold jewellery. Gold furniture. Anything that’s the colour of my key, I’m good to take. What are you offering?”

The man stared between Coppelia, myself, and the empty space where a wyvern head had just advertised all the reasons to visit her library. 

If one was insane, that is.

“I apologise again. However, I must reiterate that my sword isn’t for sale. Such a weapon cannot be priced, for it is a splendid gift by Her Radiance to only the most diligent of her subjects.” 

“Oh? The most diligent in what, may I ask?”

Suddenly, the silhouette of a clear smile could be seen amidst the stiff jaw.

“Usefulness, of course."

“And here I thought it was in ignoring road signs. I’m afraid you’ve rather lost your way. You’re currently standing atop the Kingdom of Tirea’s toe. An accident, I’m sure. Perhaps this is a recurring theme for those who overly admire dragons, to spend so long looking up that you no longer care for where your feet take you.” 

“That may very well be the case. And should the day ever come when you spy a dragon, you may also spend all your waking hours looking ever to the sky as well, in the hope of seeing such a magnificent sight once more.”

I rolled my eyes. 

It was quite the opposite. The day I spied a dragon was the day I looked down at the ground from a height of several thousand feet as I was inevitably stolen despite all my best efforts. 

Sadly, there were costs to being a beautiful princess. 

Not many. But being kidnapped was one of them.

Negotiating with the subjects of a foreign nation? 

Now that was another.

I gave a short sigh, then watched as the man’s large escort finally settled. Several had been knocked off their horses entirely, while those’d inadvertently fled now filed back with the embarrassed candour of new squires intruding on a soirée. 

The only entertainment I knew I’d receive this night.

“Very well,” I said, flicking my hair behind my shoulder. “Know that my offer to relieve the weight on your back will not come twice. Now, shall we begin?”

“Let’s.”

The man offered a nod. 

I returned it by offering a tidy smile to all those present.

“Salutations, gentlemen. My apologies for the wait. Visiting hours close at 8. Were I not made aware of the disturbance in my kingdom’s front garden, you would have stood here even longer. Regardless, you shall need to return tomorrow in the morning, without your weapons, armour and banners. Then, my border officials will be able to deny your entry properly.”

The only one with any capacity to answer me sent a purposeful gaze towards the nearest copse of trees.

“I am General Gregor Visser. I command the Rensdraldt Fortress and its garrison, and am tasked by the Grand Duchess with the defence of our western border.” 

“Juliette Contzen. 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. I enjoy tending to my orchard.”

He nodded. If he was surprised to find me here, then his sunken eyes failed to show it.

“Princess Juliette. You appear to lack an escort.”

“And why would I need an escort, with so many fine soldiers to protect me from the ruffians who you doubtless permit to wander this fair forest?”

“I permit only who may enter the Grand Duchy. Those wishing to depart may do so freely, unless there is cause for me to hold them. I regret should any unfavourable individuals have fallen foul of your good graces. My home is beautiful, and many would seek to despoil its name.”

“Many who bear its colours. You’re quite far from your desk. Does a general from the Rensdraldt Fortress often indulge in late night strolls so close to the border with my kingdom?”

“When the mood strikes me. And also when I’m required to make a formal inquiry.”

“And what would you like to inquire? If it’s sights you can take in from your side of the border, then I recommend the nearest gift store. I believe they sell accurate sketches and paintings.”

Once again, the bushy eyebrow was raised at me. The nearest thing to an expression he could conjure.

“I’m here to inquire about your involvement with the black wyvern.”

“Why? To indulge me with gratitude? If so, you may deliver it as a cash lump to the Royal Villa.”

“That seems excessive, considering the costs we’ve incurred.”

“If we’re measuring the damage to your pride, then I’m afraid there hasn’t been enough crowns minted to cover such an amount.” 

“I do not count the cost in pride, Your Highness. But in stone. There is now a very large wyvern corpse replacing what was previously the mess tower in the Rensdralt Fortress. I’m told breakfast will now be delayed. Do you care to explain what happened, or shall I deliver a request for reimbursement and a formal apology directly to your king and father?”

I blinked.

“A black wyvern corpse is now stuck in your fortress?”

“Yes.”

“I see. A concerning development. Give me a moment please.”

I turned around.

“Ohhohohohhoohhohohohohohohohohohohohoohohoho!!!!”

I coughed, gathered my breath, then pirouetted to face the general again.

“Ahem, apologies, general. I had an itch on my nose.”

“So I heard. And what is your formal response?”

“I deny all knowledge of why a wyvern is now stuck in your fortress. Furthermore, I roundly condemn the perpetrators of such a callous and well aimed attack. The Kingdom of Tirea stands united with the Grand Duchy of Granholtz in this difficult time.”

“You have a wyvern head in your possession. The same corpse in my fortress lacks a head.”

“Is that so? My, what a coincidence. To think we’d both be in possession of separate parts of two separate wyverns. I hope we eventually find our matching pairs.”

A moment of silence passed. I indulged in it as long as I was able.

“Your Highness, forgive me, but your denial of events will be looked upon poorly by my superiors.”

“And what am I denying exactly? Are you accusing me, a princess, of operating a trebuchet capable of launching a wyvern into your fortress? True, I have a wyvern head. But what I don’t have is siege equipment or battlemages–as your own watchmen doubtless confirm. How would I have launched a headless wyvern at your fortress? … With a spring breeze, perhaps?”

The general frowned, his brows once again working in lieu of his facial muscles.

Ohohoho … a poor show from one with such an impressive stoicness.

But nothing compared to me, who could maintain my demeanour even should I wish to sneeze. 

Had he hoped to find some young officer stricken to his boots, then seeking an admission of culpability was a wasted gambit. I was a princess, and the first words my mother ever said to me was neither my name nor hers. It was the three most important rules for survival in the face of indictment.

Rule 1: Deny everything.

Rule 2: Deny everything.

Rule 3: Deny everything.

Witnesses? Irrelevant. Evidence? Contemptible. Testimonies? Rewritable. 

No matter the situation, and regardless of overwhelming proof to the contrary, the first and most surest route to survival while in a position of power was to roundly deny everything. 

Suddenly, he turned to Coppelia. She responded with a sweet smile.

“You have a clockwork doll. I’ve heard some of their strength can match giants.”

“General, please rest assured that as strong as my loyal handmaiden is, if she were capable of launching wyverns into your fortress, then she’d also be capable of launching a few boulders at some of your other towers as well. I am no dwarf come lunchtime. I do not leave tasks half-finished.”

“A statement like that could be construed as a threat, Your Highness.”

I rolled my eyes.

“If I was making a threat, my heels would be raised two inches from the ground. As you can see, my boots are still on my grass.” 

I leaned forwards, the smile I offered my most diplomatic yet.

“Now, let’s try again, general. For the sake of our sweating ambassadors … why are you here?”

Strangely, the horses suddenly started pawing away once again, their riders desperately gripping onto reins for dear life.

A moment passed.

Then, at long last–

A low chuckle sounded from the general.

“Though this forest is wild and possesses many hidden dangers, you are certainly not one I expected. I had the privilege of meeting your eldest sister once, Princess Florella. She was quite the diplomat with her words. I must say, you are rather unlike her.” 

“I must take that as a personal insult, general. Princess Florella is kind and gracious–as am I. Were I anything else, I would not be speaking with you with words. To take a stroll so close to my kingdom is a severe breach of protocol, no matter how much you wish to admire it. Now, I take it your business is concluded?”

He studied me carefully.

The eyes which almost went unseen within those dark pools were alight with the colour of intrigue as he assessed me from head to toe with the same care as a royal seamstress measuring me for a dress.

His gaze took in my boots.

But most of all, it lingered upon my sword … for a moment, at least.

I offered a courteous smile as the general climbed upon his steed with a single, nimble movement. More impressive than his agileness was the lack of complaint from his mount. An intelligent horse. The less it fussed, the swifter it could return its owner to where it belonged.

“–My apologies for any inconvenience I may have caused you this evening, Your Highness. Do note, however, that this is not a formal apology. Merely a personal one.”

I nodded, accepting his words with grace.

“I do hope you enjoyed this night, general. It has been most enlightening.”

“I believe I share that sentiment. It was a most pleasant stroll. And an even more pleasant conversation. I wish you well in the far more dull meetings to come.”

He reached for his reins.

Yet the moment he sought to turn his horse, I raised my palm.

“Stop.”

The general did. 

And for the first time this evening, I witnessed an expression of surprise breaking through the stonework which made up his face.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?”

The general paused for several moments, the confusion clear in his brows.

After all … he would never expect me to register the pendant around his neck, disturbed from his climb atop his mount.

Failing to shine against his gilded armour, it took an eye keener than any of the tawny owls perched upon the branches to recognise what I saw.

A simple thing, unworthy of my attention.

It was a piece of jewellery which would never find a home anywhere but the pile outside my window. The lack of workmanship spoke for itself, after all.

Unburnished silver, dull as tin.

Even so, its engraving of a black rose was …

I studied it with more than the passing glance it didn’t deserve.

Suddenly, memories flashed through my mind as countless iterations of boredom played in my mind, all of which occurred during my mandatory tea parties as I was joined by the daughters of the countryside barons. 

And while I neither remembered the names nor faces of those who attended, I certainly remembered their attire.

This pendant … was one I’d seen before!

“A question. Your pendant. How did you come to acquire it?”

The general blinked.

“This?” He lifted the pendant in his gauntlets. “A gift from an acquaintance. A more fitting present for her than me, I believe. But I cherish it nonetheless. I’m afraid that of all the items I possess, I would sell this the last.”

“I see … and may I ask how you came to acquire such a dull … no, cheap, no, dull and cheap gift?”

He raised a brow, but no more.

“You may,” he said, turning his destier. “Although I’ve no helpful answer to give.”

At last, the general tore his eyes from me and my kingdom.

His full company of escorts waited for him to pass before flanking him. Even as they surrounded his figure with their armour shining like dark gemstones against the moonlight, they paled to the stature of the one they defended.

I watched their retreating figures, their hooves thundering against the grass which only rain would now polish.

All the while, I thought about a pendant so poor in quality it could have been purchased from … a shop.

A pendant featuring a black rose.

And it was first seen at my own tea table.

Why … the outrageousness. 

A black rose! To wear the very same symbol I’d eyed to become my own personal sigil was beyond a faux pax! It was an insult of the highest calibre! More rules of decorum had been broken that day than I could make up on the spot!

Indeed, there was not a shred of doubt in my mind. I still tasted the indignity alongside that evening’s poor serving of bergamot tea.

That pendant … was the property of my own nobility.

And it was now in the possession of a general of Granholtz.