Ophelia pouted as she sat upon a tree branch.

Beside her was Duck A and Duck B, both of whom were perched within a warm bird’s nest which they definitely built themselves. 

Swinging her legs while holding her cheeks in her palms, she was the perfect picture of a sullen maiden after having her heart disappointed. Which was true. She was a maiden. And what she was most disappointed in was the lack of bloodcurdling screaming. 

And of course the blood. 

She could never get enough of that. 

Not because she was weird. No, she just wanted to see the absolute shenanigans that would happen if that crazy girl and the big guy with a really impractical sword started smacking each other.

“No, not just a crazy girl. But a crazy princess.”

Duck B quacked at her. 

She nodded her head in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right. That really does explain as much as it leaves unanswered, huh?” 

The princess was definitely somersaulting the ladder of life. 

The way she held herself in a way that allowed her to look down on everyone despite most people being taller than her was a pretty good sign of that. 

Ophelia actually knew a lot of people like that. 

Not a lot of royalty, but a lot of nobility and people trying to backstab their way into being royalty. And while they were never shy about what they wanted, getting them to actually do anything outside of their nice little estates was a hurdle that most of them failed at.

She expected the royal family of the Kingdom of Tirea to be the same.

They didn’t have the best reputation. That’s not to say they were particularly egregious. They were just royalty. And that meant royal comforts. While others complained, Ophelia was all about that luxury at the expense of the people thing. Why have a throne if not to slouch on it imposingly?

Ophelia had a lot to ask. 

The most important being how her hair was still shockingly perfect. 

It was amazing, all smooth or slightly wavy depending on the job of each individual strand of hair. The absolute chaos that was actual lightning forming above her mattered less than a spring breeze. 

An actual spring breeze, and not whatever that thing was.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen it. But she had no idea how variable it was in either strength or stupidity.

It was a [Big Ball Of Doom]. 

Because despite what the clockwork doll called it, just [Ball Of Doom] definitely wasn’t enough. And whatever was left of the clouds probably agreed.

High above her, a painting of the night met her eyes.

She was surprised she could see so many stars. 

Not because she was amazed a [Big Ball Of Doom] could swipe away clouds like a [Clear Sky] spell, but because that vortex of calamity hadn’t reached the stars themselves. 

That was definitely an S-rank ability. If Ophelia saw that coming against her, she’d have to dance like a dwarf and tunnel into the ground. 

And that made her feel ecstatic.

Ophelia had known swordmasters. The ones everyone spoke about with hazy eyes. They were old. And they were weird. The type of people who would talk about swords as though they were extra body parts. They could sweep things into the sky, but even they couldn’t sweep aside the sky itself.

The crazy princess, though.

She could.

And she wasn’t old. Just weird. And that was great. 

She was also really pretty. 

Which wasn’t relevant to anything. But Ophelia couldn’t help noticing. 

But only because she was envious. It definitely wasn’t because she secretly wanted to poke her cheeks for some inexplicable reason, just to see how squishy they were.

No, it was because when Ophelia did her [Yuleblade Dance], her hair was in fashionably windswept mode for the rest of the week. How the princess could keep hers so stupidly nice even after lobbing the old bozo into the sky was something she wanted to know more than the technique itself. 

For a moment, Ophelia came very close to asking her.

Instead, she wore a light pout as she watched the girl walking away with that clockwork doll by her side, laughing still at the poor general who only wanted to secretly murder her. 

Because Ophelia had things to do. 

She wanted to observe her some more. And maybe strip and throw a few more pieces of clothing at her. She’d already given away her boots and her sword, after all. But neither murder nor marriage would come from swinging her legs like a maiden dreaming of skinning her first forest bear.

And so–

She turned her pout into a smile. One filled with a hint of comeliness and high murder potential, practising for their next meeting. 

But also to warn away the panther doing a poor job of climbing the tree. 

It stopped, traded glances with her, before deftly hopping along the nearest branch and bounding its way up to Ophelia’s. 

Neither Duck A nor Duck B looked at it. 

They’d seen weirder things than panthers climbing trees. 

Even if this particular panther wasn’t a panther at all, but an elven woman wearing a dress of spring leaves and wildflowers. 

Ophelia purposefully groaned loud enough to be heard as the woman perched herself down next to her, wearing the smile of a saleswoman about to offer something Ophelia already wanted a refund for. 

But more than that, she was just done with elves in general. 

“I didn’t know there were so many of us. Aren’t we endangered?” 

The other woman shrugged. 

“That’s probably why we all come at once. Penguins don’t last long outside the huddle.” 

“Well, penguins don’t last long without their heads on. Except the old bozo. But even if he lived, I want you to know I’ve already chopped off the head of one elven druid today. I can do it again.”

The elven druid in question paused for a moment. 

“Would that have anything to do with the wyvern head stuffed into a very ominous looking black window just now?”

“Yep, that’ll be it.” 

“Oh good. So you were involved.” 

“The only thing I’ve been involved in today is reintroducing childhood trauma to a few of my cousins. There’s still room to add a few more reasons to never to get invited to the next family reunion. I think I’m almost there. Are we related?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Shame. One more should do it.” 

“If you want to avoid family reunions, I have a solution for that.”

“I mean, I’ve thought about it too. But even I think that’s going too far. I can’t just murder everyone.”

The druid blinked.

“I was thinking about just not accepting.”

“Oh, right. Well, I do that already. It worked pretty well. But then a whole bunch of random elves inexplicably showed up to have a huge conspiracy party, and then when I thought it was all over, some shady woman decides to sit next to me.”

She shrugged without apology.

“It’s the company you draw.”

Ophelia had nothing she could say about that. Mostly because it was true. If she had a copper crown for each time a random woman started mysteriously speaking with her, she’d have enough to pay the next one off.

“Okay. Fine. Give me the hook.” 

“I’m the temporary leader of a former adventuring party known as the Golden Hogs. My name is Liriane. The halfling you doubtless sense hiding awkwardly in a bush below is Bodkins.” 

“–I’m not hiding,” came a timid voice, aimed more at the tall tree than those sat upon it. “Just sizing up my enemy.” 

“He’s a B-rank ranger.” 

“He doesn’t sound like a B-rank ranger.” 

“Well, former. But once the Golden Hogs get back together, I’m thinking about extorting everyone I know in the Adventurer’s Guild into letting us call ourselves current B-ranks again without feeling awkward. And that’s where you come in.”

“No, that’s where I leave. See you.”

Ophelia ushered her ducks towards her. 

That’s when the druid giggled to herself.

“Too much? Too much. Truth be told, I’ve been looking for you for a while now. As fate would have it, the High Council asked us to seek you out for your assistance.”

“Oh, so now they want me. Well, they can’t get all offended when I say they’re less useful than fruit slimes in a watermelon fair and then turn around and expect me to help them.” 

“Too late. They wanted Eucian of the Stars dealt with.” 

“Guhhhh.”

Ophelia groaned, clutching her stomach in pain. 

If she’d known chopping off his head would mean everyone being happy, she would have let him go take over the world. For all of the five seconds until the crazy princess did it herself. 

Even now she could see the [Big Ball Of Doom] as it smashed into the flames released by the breath … before not stopping whatsoever. 

That was gruesome. And amazing. Bits everywhere. 

With the biggest sent all the way to the horizon. 

Ophelia was pretty certain that if she’d still had her sword and not thrown it into the mix, she’d have pulled the sapphire gem off the hilt and proposed on the spot. 

But now?

Now her head was at least 5% clearer.

And that meant she had to get a new sword. And also a new pair of boots. 

She looked down at the druid’s feet to rob. Nothing. She was one of the tree lovers. Just her luck.

“Now I have time on my hands,” said the druid, smiling in a way which worked on everyone except her. “And also the start of an old adventuring party. I know you’re a bit out there, but you also take on tasks, and from what I hear, the wild nature of adventuring parties might suit you. What do you think?” 

“I think people need to decide which side of the moral spectrum I’m on. It can’t be right that evil-doers and do-gooders both try to recruit me.” 

The druid shrugged.

“We need strength and you’re strong. But you can be stronger. We all can. The Golden Hogs have a long and storied history. And our real leader is an A-rank swordsman. Thomas Lainsfont. I’m sure he can show you a few tricks. And if not, well, there’s always more than one Big Elven Secret to ruin everyone’s day. There’s a lot we can learn together. A lot we can do.”

Only one thing from all that there caught Ophelia’s attention. And it was definitely not another Big Elven Secret. Ophelia wasn’t touching that with or without the sword she didn’t have.

No, she was interested in Thomas Lainsfont.

If only just.

A former adventurer. A poster boy who became the voice nobody wanted to hear. Because adventuring meant more than rescuing cats from trees. And those who wanted to climb the Oldest Ladder had to do it by climbing over the scorched remains of the last guy who tried.

He was famous once. He probably still was. But he’d retired long before Ophelia became the Snow Dancer. And she didn’t need another A-rank to discuss ways to throw away swords with.

She needed her old swordmaster to grade her.

And that guy definitely wasn’t where these adventurers were going.

“I’ll pass. I have stuff to do.” 

It was a typically brusque reply to these endless invitations. 

And so came the sigh … followed by a coin pulled from an unknown pocket of leaves, dropping down to be caught in the hands of a waiting halfling.

“Told you so,” came the voice from below. 

The druid yawned, stretching her limbs in a way someone who spent too long as a feline did.

“It was always a long shot. Shame. Maybe I should try the princess instead. She’s already an adventurer. I might have better luck.”

Ophelia stopped where she was, awkwardly in the motion of hopping off the branch. She swung on the branch before sitting back down upon it.

“Did you say the princess?”

“Yep. The one you were pining over. To your ducks.”

“I wasn’t pining! I was … hey, how do you know she’s a princess? That has to be at least semi-secret, right?”

“We cheated. Bodkins remembers her from our last time in the Royal Villa. I was surprised he could remember. She was still a child.”

“... Fine, hit me! What was she like?”

“Like all princesses, I expect. Cute until they say something.” 

“That’s great. You should definitely open with that if you invite her to your party.” 

“Thank you, but I’ll defer to not losing any more money to Bodkins. If she wanted to join a party, she would have. I don’t know what she’s doing, but it’s working. Mind explaining how she came to have the shapeshifted wyvern head of our short tenured king stuffed into a black box?”

“I call it the [Big Ball Of Doom].”

“... What’s that?”

“It’s a delicate gardening technique.”

The druid raised a brow in confusion, before sending it to the halfling with better ears.

“I don’t under–”

Ophelia didn’t wait.

Snatching away Duck A and Duck B, she dropped to the branch below, before skipping deftly onto the next tree, leaves singing to her soft steps. She felt the druid’s eyes rolling behind her. Which was fine. Ophelia had already forgotten about her. As she did about anything not to do with the princess.

There was a long checklist of things to go through before she was ready to kill or marry her.

She still needed to get S-rank. 

She probably still needed to kill a dragon. 

But now she also definitely needed to reimburse her for all the money she’d stolen from her parents. She really couldn’t turn up to the funeral or marriage ceremony until that was sorted out.

She also needed a new sword. And she needed new shoes.

But most importantly–

Quack quack.

She needed to feed her ducks.