I held my palm above me, wincing as a column of sunlight bore down upon my fair skin. 

As Apple trotted at a leisurely pace on the western road to Hartzwiese, I peered up at a blue expanse embellished by wispy trails of clouds, each twisting like its own aurora. A sweeping brush of springtime, forming a painting more dazzling than any ocean.

Even so, it paled to what lay around me.

The fields of my kingdom blooming as a single shade of gold. 

Wheat fields as bright as the crowns tinkling in my Royal Treasury, promising a harvest bountiful enough to trial bake the thousands of gâteaux à la vanille required to pass my minimum standards before I deemed a single one worthy of being tossed beneath the table.

The countryside.

It was so … horrifically dull.

Here were beautiful fields of crops fit to host the most minor of tournaments. But instead of farmers weeping as newly raised knights trampled their livelihoods with abandon, there was only a dirt lane disturbed by more upturned stones than ankles at a soirée.

As I sent my gaze around me, I saw as much hint of high society as I saw ways to make Apple trot slightly faster. There were no drunken bards to throw apples towards or nervous squires to deliberately roll my eyes at as they fumbled with every possible movement.

Only a vast swathe of emptiness.

Thus … I smiled.

Ohoho … ohohohohoho!

Here! Here it was at last! A moment of peace!

All around me, only the fields occasionally marred by warrens and dens like patches of plague could be seen! There were no mages throwing fireballs or wishful kings residing within ruined towers! Only agricultural farmland filled with the sight of tomorrow’s apple strudels!

Nothing could disturb me here!

Were I alone, I would doubtless jump to the sky in joy. But beneath the watchful eyes of my loyal handmaiden, I could hardly display such a slovenly action–especially when she only viewed me for the quiet mannered princess that I was.

Instead, I turned to her with a look of utmost regret, my lips quivering beautifully and naturally against the force of my smile.

“Oho … hoho … a truly … a truly inhospitable sight, is it not? My sincere apologies. I promise that such a barren and wondrously peaceful display isn’t indicative of my kingdom.”

Skipping along the rickety fence beside me, Coppelia offered a generous giggle.

“Oh, this? Nice fluffy fields and nothing smelling of vomit?”

“Marvellous, no?”

“Mmh~ I’d say so. I only smell the stuff coming from the horse. And it’s definitely nicer than what I normally get. Goblins are right, you know? The things they say about you guys.”

I blinked, having little idea what goblins said about anything.

After all, they made it a point to be as indecipherable in their complaints as possible.

“What do goblins say about us?”

“Think of the worst insult you’ve heard.”

“Done.”

“That’s now a compliment.”

I held my hand to my mouth, gasping.

“That’s … That’s awful! To go beyond saying that the hem of a dress looks like it was sewn by an ‘aspiring seamstress’ is the height of vulgarity! What insults do they make beyond that? … Surely, they’re not so crass as to refer to the rest of the dress as well … ?”

Coppelia’s smile dipped, her cheeks twitching as she held back an insult too outrageous for my ears.

“Yep … that’s what they talk about.”

I shook my head at once.

The absolute crass of them. Were a goblin present, I’d be leaning so far away that I’d be able to view the other side of me. 

“An appalling lack of grace. I dare say that if goblins wish to be viewed in more favourable light by my people, then they need to begin with ensuring their insults are at a palatable level. It’s no good affronting people to such an extent that no retort is possible.”

“I mean, I really don’t think goblins care about being viewed favourably. In fact, insulting humans is pretty much how they climb up in the world.”

“Well, I never! I understand there’s been historical disagreements–”

“There’s been, like, loads of wars.”

“Historical disagreements. But that was all in the past–”

“The last one is still ongoing.”

“With some other kingdom, perhaps. But not with mine. There’s no reason not to seek good relations with Tirea. The embassies in Reitzlake offer a stunning view of the lakeside district, offering direct access to the nobility so that all the trash may conspire where they’re easily seen. Their diplomats would be welcomed with the same contempt they all deserve.” 

“To be fair, I think it’d be pretty hard for them to set up an embassy anywhere.”

“True. I suppose when their society is fragmented by ceaseless war and tribal strife, assigning envoys is a logistical issue they cannot easily overcome.”

“Nope. Literally just because of the smell. Trust me. I’ve spoken with goblins.”

I didn’t know which frightened me more.

That Coppelia had cause to speak with goblins in the past, or that she agreed with them on anything.

“Surely, the smell cannot be that bad … ?”

“Nope. It’s worse. It’s just that everyone with a good nose is used to it by now.”

I lifted the back of my hand to my nose.

Then, I scent a furtive glance at my loyal, yes, very loyal handmaiden. 

“B-By any chance, do I … ?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Wonderful … although in the interest of curiosity, how would someone of your excellent senses describe my fragrance?”

Coppelia paused, landing atop a creaking gate. She blinked as she slowly swung towards me.

“Eh … I guess, you smell like …”

“Flowers?”

“Flowers. Yes. That’s what I was going to say.”

I rolled my hands, allowing her to continue.

“Like … the petals of a dais–”

I shook my head.

“The petals of a dandeli–”

I shook my head.

“The petals of a daffo …

I shook my head. 

Coppelia hummed, eyes glancing up in thought before she clicked her fingers.

“Like … the petals of a rose … blooming amidst summertime … while being licked by honey bees?”

I clapped my hands together.

My, how wonderful!

To lie so easily on demand! Once I found out how much her salary was, I’d endeavour to increase it! 

“Such needless, yet truthful flattery,” I said, smiling as I unsuccessfully poked Apple onwards. “Have no fear. Though little can be done about the pains you endure around everyone except me, I promise to hurry us past the overbearing scent of my kingdom’s vagrants and their ill-thought schemes.”

“You can take your time. Fields of wheat beats vagrants and ill-thought schemes. Although not all the time. You normally have more sweaty humans around, don’t you?”

True. How strange the farmers were not tending the fields every moment of the day.

If their sweat wasn’t watering the fields, then what was? 

Curiously, none but the rodents annexing portions of my land like the invaders they were could be sighted. Where I should be subject to wide eyes as fearful peasants were paralysed between fleeing or kneeling, I was instead greeted by a flash of a grey tail or the bounce of a fruit slime. 

Here and there, evidence of work left abandoned could be seen. Shovels and rakes left atop open carts, while bales of feed for horses no longer present were found upon wheelbarrows. 

A pitiful sight.

“As expected, even the peasants have no wish to live in the countryside,” I said with a rueful shake of my head. “Understandable. These poor souls are under the yoke of nobility who can’t even be viewed as figures of aspiration. Even in their finest attire, they’re still broadly indistinguishable from a commoner soaked in soil and sweat.”

Coppelia giggled, clearly never having needed to scoff at them at her own mandatory tea party.

“If nobility look like commoners, how are you going to find the one you’re looking for? … Kicking down every door?”

“Coppelia, we are not kicking down every door.”

“Meaning … we’re going to kick down a door?”

I responded with a look of utter horror … all the while confirming and denying nothing.

“All we shall need to do is follow the perfume of ambition. We seek a single baroness, and any who have conspired with her to undermine this fair and just kingdom. By finding one, we shall find the rest. And in Hartzwiese, we can trust the rodents to gather as they feast on the carcass of their own loyalty.”

Indeed, I had neither the desire nor the time to trawl through every hovel the lesser aristocracy claimed to be a fashionable estate. Nor did I need to.

“Anyone brazen enough to wear my own sigil before me will also do so before the cattle and all the farmers who tend to them. I’ve no doubt we’ll find the culprit before long. And then both her and her extended family can be thoroughly inspected and found guilty for a succession of unrelated tax crimes as a result.”

Coppelia twirled on the fence as she skipped ahead, before cheerfully gesturing either side of her with an open palm.

“Soooo … you want me to ask the cows or the farmers first?”

“Both. But only when all other avenues are exhausted. Until then, we can simply question the local nobility instead. They have as little loyalty towards their own as they do towards my own family. More importantly, they’re considerably less busy.”

She nodded with a smile, then raised a hand to her brow as she peered down the dirt lane.

“You mean they’re not busy forming a queue in the middle of the road?”

I briefly closed my eyes in response, relishing the peace already slipping between my fingertips.

“Yes, Coppelia. That’s precisely what I meant.”

A moment later, I tugged Apple’s reins to a stop. I arranged my expression into one which was suitably aghast, before continuing onwards to see what reason I had to do so.

The answer came as Apple rounded the nearest corner.

The farmers had been found.

Except despite the overalls they wore and the dirt caking their faces, little evidence of farming could be seen amongst them. In their hands, no hoes or spades could be seen.

Only the dim glint of copper crowns mixed amidst a smattering of silver.

Chatting jovially as though still thinking they loitered around whatever bar they’d last opened their eyes to, I was stunned to see a line of peasants wilfully blocking the road. And while rabid enthusiasm and an orderly assembly to await my coming was only to be expected, none of them were facing the right direction to be ignored by me.

No … instead, their eyes were turned towards the lady standing by the side of the dirt lane.

The lady boasting a greataxe resting upon her shoulder.

As tall as an ogre, yet still undeniably human, she wore a cloak of fur wrapped around a carapace of boiled leather marred with innumerable gashes. The largest of which was not on her armour, but diagonally across her cheek as a scar.

A lady in the prime of her life.

She boasted bright, almost snowy hair in a thick ponytail, with eyes as grey as the faraway mountains from which she hailed.

Standing imposingly with a fur boot atop a wooden crate, she tapped at the long shaft of her weapon, a lively, fiery smile playing at her lips as she watched the first excited peasant at the front of the queue.

I raised a brow towards this northern barbarian, so far from her homeland of ice and songs.

Then … I proceeded to lean forwards.

A signboard was next to her, its words scribbled in professional handwriting.

 

THE END TIMES ARE COMING.

… Let it be your new beginning!

Enjoy the end of the world in the comfort you deserve.

Solgard, the afterlife of warriors.

Reserve your spot now for as low as 5 silver crowns!

LIMITED AVAILABILITY. WHILE VACANCIES LAST.

 

As I pursed my lips, I was greeted by the most bizarre sight of the morning so far.

The firstmost peasant stepped forwards, his fists raised with a confidence that not even ale mixed with stupidity could concoct as he stood before a lady whose stature towered over him even with her foot still upon a crate.

The lady appraised him with a smile burning with the mirth of battle. 

The next moment, she fully blocked out the sun as she stood up, her shadow looming over the peasant armed only with his fists and his farming rags. Her greataxe went to her hands, the notches across its keen edge evidence of triumph against things boasting more than steel, but hides as thick as dragonscale.

And then–

The peasant struck the woman’s cheek.

A lethargic, half-hearted punch. And yet the response was nothing but pain. 

For the peasant, of course.

He recoiled, shaking his hand as a cheek made of pure muscle met him.

A second later–

“Oooooph.”

The barbarian lady fell backwards, greataxe crashing to the ground as she landed with the grace of a diving swan upon a prepared pile of hay. The sound of cheers erupted at once, peasants shaking hands with the new victor of the bloody bout as he secured his place in Solgard, the legendary afterlife of the northern barbarian clans.

I considered the situation for a few moments.

“Coppelia.”

“Yes?”

“What do you think is a reasonable price to enter Solgard?”

“I’m not too sure. But 5 silver crowns sounds like a pretty good deal for an afterlife in a fully furnished homestead filled with mead on tap coming out of the walls and jokes which aren’t terrible. I hear you get your own pet mammoth as well. And if you have any uncles there, they’re always guaranteed to be the cool ones. Why? Are you going to reserve a spot from the big lady?”

“Hm? Reserve? No, not at all.”

I nudged Apple forwards, ignoring the first huff of protest from the farmers at the back of the queue.

None of whom were currently farming.

“I’m going to sell one. For a very small price, this big lady will be allowed to pay her respects to her ancestors.”