As a princess, I’d witnessed the most beautiful backdrops of my kingdom.

From the soaring heights of my bedroom ceiling as I read while lying on my back, to the mysterious corners of my bedroom bookshelves as I read while lying on my side, to the deep canyon nestled within my pillow as I read while lying on my front, my eyes had been graced with the most dazzling sights that any princess had the luxury of viewing.

As I approached the edge of Hartzwiese, I saw none of these things.

This region of my kingdom was famed for its utter lack of fashionability. 

A desolate wasteland of pine trees, ominous mist and peasants with neither the will nor the funds to be a peasant elsewhere. 

Tucked away on the fringes of my kingdom, it was a belt of villages and townships which possessed neither any rich heritage, nor any birthplaces of my ancestors. 

None entered here by accident.

None entered here on purpose, either. 

And as long as Apple trotted along at his leisurely pace, that would continue forever being the case.

Normally, this wasn’t an issue. 

Delaying my arrival into the heart of the countryside where the least of my nobility awaited was a mark of loyalty worthy of a premium apple. 

Sadly, it was these same nobility my soles needed a polite conversation with, and this meant the premium apple was currently being used in my latest ingenious attempt at encouraging urgency.

Namely … by tossing it further down the dirt lane and hoping for the best.

“Look, Apple! Onwards! Your prize is in danger! You must rescue it with your jaws at once!”

In chorus with my warnings came a rustling in the branches and the underbrush beside us.

I felt the air thicken with tension. Every critter and bouncing fruit slime with a shared love of fruit tossed by a princess’s gentle hand could be heard waking from their stupor. 

A moment later–

I was looking on in utter despondency as Apple paused before the fallen apple, scooping it up in a single bite before continuing, the joy in his rhythmic crunching mirrored by the perfectly measured steps of his hooves. 

“You tried,” said Coppelia, skipping along on a bank of soft grass while frequently stopping to wait. “You know, what are you going to do if a dragon swoops down to kidnap you? This horse isn’t going to help. He’ll just snort at it.”

“Yes, well, bravery in the face of immeasurable danger is itself a noteworthy quality. And I dare say that against a dragon, a snort will have them pause more than any arrow could.”

“Luckily your kingdom doesn’t have any, huh?~ So you’re safe either way.”

I shook my head at once.

As the brightest star in the sky, I was without equal. Even attempting to affix an “=” sign after my name would result in the page combusting into flames, the ink sliding off as the universe sought to right a wrong. But just because I was without equal didn’t mean there weren’t those who wished to share the sky with me.

“You must dispel such dangerous notions. A lack of indigenous dragons is no cause for negligence, especially where princesses are concerned.”

“Oh, my bad. Do you have a plan for when you get scooped up?”

“Yes. Avoiding being scooped up in the first place. Which is why you must be on constant alert.”

“For sudden dragons in the sky?”

“No, for rumours on the ground. The moment you get a whiff of some farmer claiming without evidence that one of their sheep have been eaten without even their bones remaining, you must inform me immediately. Yet be that as it may, dragons are nothing if not stubborn. Emergency contingencies need to be in place in the event of my abduction.”

Coppelia nodded at once, the unflappable dedication sparkling like jewels in her eyes.

“Got it! You want me to deliver your last will and testament!”

“What? No. I’m not dead.”

“Oh, okay.”

“If I’m ever stolen away by a dragon, you’re to immediately make your way to the Royal Villa.”

“You want me to tell your parents you got pinched?”

“No. I want you to go to my bedroom, find the romance novels I keep hidden behind the history textbooks on the top shelf of my bookcase as purely supplementary study material, then burn them. Captivity by a dragon is no short affair. Each day which passes increases the chance of my study material being accidentally discovered.”

Coppelia wore a pained expression on her face.

Understandable. To an assistant librarian, the thought of burning any book must be anathema to her.

“Ehh … you can just get a faster horse.”

“Excuse me?”

“A new horse. Then you might outrun the dragon. They’re like anyone else. They go for the slowpokes first. You’ve got some extra crowns now, right? Especially after robbing that barbarian.”

“Hmm? Do you mean legally requisitioning owed taxes in the name of the Royal Treasury?”

“That’s exactly what I meant. I bet it’s enough to buy a new horse.”

“Perhaps so. Yet Apple has proven himself to be loyal and dependable. Rest assured there’s nothing we as royalty cherish more than the unfaltering faith of our subjects. True, he may not hasten forward with the speed of a destrier, but he has proven his valour and his endurance. It’d be a poor message to my vassals if I were to replace Apple with another horse. How would you feel if I replaced you with another handmaiden?”

My loyal handmaiden’s smile remained fixed, even as she slowly creaked her head towards me.

“Ehh … no comment.”

“Exactly. Loyalty is the finest service and must be rewarded. And for the countryside nobility involved in this latest misadventure in conspiracy, I intend to be generous. We’ll begin with the baroness first. Preferably by first melting any and all jewellery illegally possessing a black rose for a motif.”

Coppelia giggled as I wrinkled my nose.

“Aren’t black roses in vogue? I swear other people already use that one. Like knights and stuff.”

“Of course. The black rose is a popular sigil with a storied history. And yet the moment I began doodling its shape for myself, they all fell squarely under my personal purview. To use it is a faux pas worse than wearing a sequin dress for any reason. To gift it is salt upon fresh indignity.”

“What happens if someone wears a sequin dress that’s also smothered in black roses?”

“Nothing. Their bodies would physically melt under the gaze of public disapproval. And if not–”

“To the soap mines!”

Coppelia answered on my behalf with a twirl, arms raising to a burst of carefully prepared plucked daisies around her. 

I nodded in idle agreement.

The nobility had their uses. They had arms. And that meant they could craft soap. It may not be soap fit for export. But even so, the prisoners needed soap for their own use. I would find a way to ensure their good use.

But first–

We had to reach the next town.

A problem.

Because whereas these dirt lanes should be as empty as the fields we’d left behind, Apple was soon met with an obstacle he’d rarely had to endure.

Another horse.

A queue of them, to be exact, their carts and carriages behind them as they waited in turn.

I tugged Apple to a halt at the back of the queue. I had little intention of stopping here. But morbid curiosity had me leaning forwards to address the back of the first head before me.

“You. Commoner. What is the meaning of this?”

The head turned around. A man wearing a trader’s bright garb with a look which plainly said he wasn’t yet open for business.

“Excuse me?” he replied, blinking.

“What is the meaning behind this unwanted blockage of a public lane? If someone is being waylaid at the front, please inform them to hasten their misfortune. I have places to be.”

“This? This is the queue for the merchants entering Hartzwiese.”

I merely looked on in rightful confusion, utterly stunned that a town so undistinguished would be worthy of even a single carriage, let alone enough to halt my tax inspectors.

“Hartzwiese is a town of no renown. Why would it boast a queue of merchants? It is neither Trierport nor Reitzlake.”

The merchant gave a shrug, his expression clear that this was not the first queue he’d waited in.

“Perhaps not. But Trierport and Reitzlake are far away. And while Hartzwiese cannot best the size of either, its market is a hidden jewel. Some of the best prices available for just about anything you could want. As you can see, the secret’s spread.”

I peered to the side, assessing the length of the queue.

It was astonishing. I could not even see where it started. A queue to match that which lined up to offer wares to be inspected and rejected at the Royal Villa.

Coppelia’s eyes shone as she joined me in peering down the queue.

“Ooooh~ discounts and bargains. Do you want to go shopping?”

“Yes. For errant nobility. Something strange is afoot.”

“No such thing as a good deal, huh?"

I nodded, my suspicions raised at once.

“Certainly not in Hartzwiese … yet even so, the nobility are as inclined to flaunt themselves as a peacock during summertime. Their schemes will reveal themselves without us. And when they do, we shall take advantage. Whatever shameless, illicit and dark venture they hope to accomplish, we shall thoroughly grind it into dust. Beginning by ignoring this queue.” 

Accepting the first huffs of indignation, I smiled as Apple bore me past, expertly causing all the carriages to shift to the side to avoid the slow, yes … but also ceaseless coming of his hooves.

At least until I saw the wooden signboard draped in ivy.

 

↰ 20 metres 

The Little Black Rose Orphanage 

For chronically unwell and disadvantaged small children.

 

My mouth gradually widened in disbelief.

A moment later, he trotted over and began nibbling at the leaves arranged like a carpet of moss. 

But even with his loyal and valiant attempt at shielding my eyes, he could not stop the sight of the words as boldly painted upon the signboard, nor the accompanying symbol of a black rose eerily similar to what had previously been sighted upon a treasonous noblewoman’s pendant.

And just in case I missed it–Coppelia merrily skipped towards the sign, before framing the words ‘The Little Black Rose Orphanage’ between her palms.

She gave a big wide smile.

“Hey, hey~ look at this! Don't these words seem familiar? What do you think? Are we going to grind The Little Black Rose Orphanage for chronically unwell and disadvantaged small children into dust? Hmm? Hmmmmm?~”

I blinked repeatedly.

The Little Black Rose Orphanage.

Someone … Someone was using my personal sigil … to associate with helping small children?

A moment of silence passed, filled only with the din of my shock.

And then–

I threw up my arms in outrage.

“How … How dare they!! How will I get away from them now?!”