All that remained of the shadow demon was a thin sinew of black fabric, caught beneath the tip of Coppelia’s scythe. 

She hoisted up her weapon with a bright smile, then plucked the strand away.

“Ooooh~ not bad! I’ve always wanted my very own … thing!”

I narrowed my eyes at it.

The only remains of a shadow demon from the abyss. A deadly shapeshifting parasite of fear.

An undoubtedly rare, expensive and powerful material. A reagent sought after by artificers, alchemists and blacksmiths the continent over.

It also looked like … yes, a piece of cat hair.

“Please tell me you won’t use this in a smoothie.”

“Ahaha, don’t worry, I won’t use this in a smoothie.”

“Good.”

“... I mean, just look at it, right? This isn’t even enough for a cup. I don’t believe in sprinkles. If you can’t chew it, you can’t taste it. I’ll wait for my next dead shadow demon and combine the two!”

“Coppelia, it cannot possibly be healthy to digest shadowy demon bits.”

“Eh, it’s probably fine. There are zero calories in shadows. It only contains the essence of raw, simmering hatred and a distaste for all life. It’s probably healthier than anything we’ve eaten.”

I gave it a moment’s consideration.

Then, I nodded. It was a faultless argument.

A hum of satisfaction and a puff of air was the full extent of Coppelia’s expert curation techniques. Needing nothing else, she duly dropped the thing into the pouch by her waist, joining all the other odd possessions I sometimes accidentally glimpsed and always purposefully chose not to ask about.

“W-Wonderful … !”

The sound of a clapping audience promptly rang out throughout the chamber.

Nearby, a maid’s eyes shone with relief as she was guaranteed another day to provide the tea service I’d yet to judge her solely on irrespective of her other skills. 

I accepted it with a dignified flick of my hair. Especially as it was a far better reaction than what the generic robed man had to offer. He was away in his own world, furiously scribbling at a rate which meant his scroll was enlarging even as he wrote.

However, since no world without me was worth residing in, I kindly made my way over with my sweetest smile –before poking the back of his scroll. 

Letters jumped out at once, staining his woollen robes. 

He ceased writing at once. But no look of ire fell upon me. 

Only the excitement of a child in a man’s body discovering a new toy.

“That was remarkable,” he said, less to me and more where the shadow demon had existed. “Why, to witness the behaviour of such an errant creature is something which cannot be achieved in simulated environments! There’s precious little documentation on shadow demons inhabiting instead of consuming the shadows of others. Its movements, its behaviour and its method of deceasement are all worthy of being noted in the Journal Of Magical Creatures!”

“Wonderful. And I hope that when it is, the entry will correctly cite that it was a beautiful, passing girl and a highly flexible clockwork doll who studied it–both of whom shall insist on payment for every word scribbled.”

I held out my hand. 

The generic robed man merely offered me a blink instead. A common currency among the poor. And yet when I offered it in lieu of payment after being told that I had to pay for the potted plant Apple ate, others had the gall to look indignant. The double standards!

“Payment? My girl, you broke down my door and entered my sanctum illegally!”

“A matter of definition. Of which mine is the only one which matters. But you needn’t fear. It’s clear as our surroundings that your stock dark tower possesses nothing of value to me.”

“I wish to repeat that my furnishings are upstairs.”

“And I rejoice in not being forced to judge them. No, it is no moth eaten hammock I desire from you. Simply knowledge for knowledge. As it’s highly unlikely this is the only bat laden refuge in these woods, I wish to know where I may find an errant baroness fleeing with the stench of mischief in her wake. Have you a neighbour who fits this description?”

The generic robed man shifted slightly, his wrinkles becoming more pronounced under his beard.

Ah. So he did.

“I am the Great Wizard Dorlund. Not the Great Nosy Dorlund. I have seen the sauntering schemes of evil and the bright trail of heroism pass by the seclusion of my tower for many a year, and all go unanswered before my door. My interests are in my own studies. Not the doings of others.”

In response, I poked the back of the scroll once again.

“And how, dare I ask, does the Great Wizard Dorlund pay his taxes while so secluded?”

He stilled for a moment, his mouth pausing in the midst of a reply.

“Excuse me?”

“Your taxes. You are the owner of this tower, I assume?”

“Yes?”

“Well, then you must pay residency taxes. So long as you enjoy the comfort and security of this fair kingdom, you must pay for those who defend the bats upon your tower.”

“My bats do not require safekeeping. And nor do I, for that matter.”

“Because you wield magic, which requires a multitude of safety permits if conducted within a woodland zone, and if you do so in exchange for barter or crowns, then you need a trading permit as well. And if you conduct academic research, this tower also classes as a workshop and requires its own separate licence. I assume during the many years you’ve spent here that you’ve acquired the correct documentation?”

The man opened his mouth to retort. 

Nothing came out but a small gulp. And so he opted to distract me by glancing over at the only person with no means to assist him in his defence.

“Mmmghm … Mhhrhhgmmm …”

A gagged, bound and caged woman now desperately hoping not to be forgotten.

… Because I absolutely hadn’t done that. Not at all.

The generic robed man gave a pointed cough towards her direction.

“I will not reveal the locations or doings of my neighbours … but perhaps others found wandering in these woods will.” 

He returned to his scroll, believing the conversation to be done. 

Perhaps this one was. But I didn’t forgive unpaid taxes. Yet nor did I forgive bouts of treason by my nobility. His schedule with my tax inspectors would simply come later.

I turned to the peasant. 

Her reaction was to become perfectly still beneath her saviour’s shadow and gentle smile. A moment later, her eyes glanced over to Coppelia, who was now twirling her giant blackened scythe to Renise’s continued applause. 

Fresh sweat began to roll down her face.

I looked at her with pity. Undoubtedly, she was still traumatised by the demon that’d terrorised her.

“Coppelia, could you please release this peasant back to her farm?”

“Sure can~”

“Mmhhgghhhh!!!”

In a blink, the scythe casually swept towards the peasant.

Its tip jammed itself into the cage’s lock.

The woman became even more still as she looked at that scythe. Which was just as well. With a little tug, the door fell off, followed by Coppelia sending her scythe upwards and swiping cleanly through the ropes binding the peasant’s hands and mouth. 

A look of horror followed as the scythe retreated … until it was replaced with a groan instead.

“Ughhhhhh …” said the woman, her voice hoarse and broken. “Oh boy … I … I thought it was over …”

“It is never over,” I replied kindly as I leaned over her. “Not so long as summer nears and our fields remain alarmingly unworked. But no matter your misfortune, know that your luck is now greater. Rejoice, for all the days you now see will burn all the brighter.”

I received a slow … very slow nod.

“Uh … thank you … it was awful … really awful … I could feel it … that creature in my mind … like it was always breathing down on me … a terrible, terrible darkness was lifted …”

“A darkness which had little cause to be stalking a farm. I take it from the generic robed man’s less than subtle hint that you did not come across it entirely by accident?”

The farmer shook her head. 

She sucked in a deep breath before she continued. I leaned away slightly, unsure what powerful breath attack peasants released upon exhaling.

“Yeah … I definitely hold up my hands to that one. I shouldn’t have gone in these woods. My mother always taught me not to. Now I know why. Worse things than wild hogs around here, that’s for sure.”

“Of course there is. I saw at least three badger trails amidst the roots trying to claim my ankles. For what reason would you possibly face such terrors without such basics as an enchanted sword?”

The woman offered no response. At first. 

After taking in the sight of my sword with a slightly widened mouth, her expression became harder. A noble anxiousness to return to the fields came upon her as she shuffled in the cage, even as she lacked the strength to crawl away.

“Not because I wanted to. I was looking for Momo.”

“Momo? Who is this? Your daughter?”

“No, Momo’s my cat.”

I covered my face with a hand.

Ignoring the giggling by my loyal handmaiden, I preemptively sucked in patience for the conversation ahead. Nearby, I could hear a generic robed man scribbling upon his scroll again. 

I hoped it was a ledger for my tax inspectors. 

“Very well,” I said as vision reluctantly returned. “And why were you looking for your cat?”

“Bloody thieves is why!” The woman feebly clenched her fists. “The crooks took Momo in the dead of night! Oh, I knew it was them. Heard the buggers when the pots and pans came tumbling down, just like when they took Toto and Peppy. It’d be half alright if they just took my crowns, but no, they gotta take my cats! Why do they do that?”

She looked imploringly at me. 

I had no answers. Nobody did. And anyone who claimed to, the Adventurer’s Guild would surely silence them for the knowledge.

“No meaning can be derived from the workings of criminals. But just as little can be gleaned from your response. Thieves took your cats. But instead of plastering your request upon the nearest guild wall to compete with all the rest, you went trundling through a forest.”

The peasant looked indignant.

“You don’t own a cat, do you?”

“No.”

“Then you wouldn’t know. I saw them take Momo right in front of me. I wasn’t going to let them go. Not while Toto and Peppy waited too.”

The farmer squeezed her fists harder.

“Well, I found the bloody thieves, all right! I found them all. And you wouldn’t guess where!”

She waited for me to guess. I rolled my hands instead.

“Mayor Mitchel’s old farm. They’ve taken the whole lot.”

“A what now?”

“A farm. Back when Hartzwiese was small enough to have a mayor. Mayor Mitchel had a nice little home for himself. All his land’s been empty since he passed. Or so I figured. Now it’s been taken over by the forest and these thieves and all their cousins. They filled the place and everything around it. I reckon more than the garrison will be needed to take them out.”

She shook his head in dismay.

“I tried to run, but that fiend got me faster than any hound. That place isn’t right. Something about that farm made all the hairs on end stand up. I’ve got a really bad feeling about it.”

I offered the peasant a soothing smile … just before raising my hand to barely cover it.

“Oho … ohohoho … oohohohohohohohoho!!”

She froze at once, her face whitening even more than when the shadow demon had gnawed upon her senses. After all, a member of my nobility residing in a farm was even more shameful than any dark tower purchasable from a brochure.

My, hadn’t this baroness been busy?

Hags. Landless knights. Thieves. And now their own little barn for them to call home. 

A suitable abode for the rodents of my kingdom to gather.

A true menagerie of horrors. But it was missing the most frightful thing of all.

A shadow of my own, far darker than any to inhabit these woods.

“Ohhohohoho … you need not fear,” I said kindly towards the shrinking peasant. “What you feel is the coming of authority here to fill the pockmarks of this land. So wield your tools and return to your fields, where you may enjoy the bliss of the soil and the coming sounds of weeping mixed with the gurgling of soap. For no amount of creatures or brigands may take you away from your duties.” 

I smiled once more, waiting for the peasant to jump to her feet, cage and all.

She merely remained still. 

A tragic sight. To think her vigour would be so thoroughly drained. My farmers were not allowed to take breaks. And those who enforced them upon my peasants were expected to work in their stead. 

Something I was more than delighted to arrange.

To my puzzlement, the farmer slowly raised her hand.

“Um … I feel I should mention I’m not a farmer.”

“No?” I glanced down at the woman. Farming overalls, unkempt hair and a slightly puffy face. A postcard farmer. But this was the countryside. “... I see, are you perhaps a member of the local nobility? A lady, perhaps?”

“No, uh, I’m definitely not. We’ve actually met before.”

“Excuse me?”

I blinked.

Then, I leaned down to study her. 

The peasant retreated into her cage. And as far as I was aware, this was most certainly one. I had as much recollection of her as I did the faces of my servants.

After a moment, she gave a cheerful smile despite her bout with a shadow demon.

“Hey again. It’s me. Tillie. Tillie Pilton.”

“... Who?”

“Probably don’t recognise me without the eyepatch, huh? Hahah. I wouldn’t, either. We met on Port Defiance, back when I was provisional guildmaster of the speculative branch there. I sent you on a random fetch quest, remember?”

She covered one of her eyes.

At once, I gasped as memories of a quasi-guildmaster desperate to leave Soap Island before it became the heart of my export-based empire filled my mind.

I was utterly aghast.

Why, not only did these parasites cling to my kingdom, but also my memories!

I … I thought she was a farmer! Someone who wasn’t a net drain on my kingdom! If I knew who she actually was, I would have looked at the suspicious ritualistic circle and asked the generic robed man if he required any additional candles!

“Oh boy, ain’t this awkward,” she said with an embarrassed wave of her hand. “That’s twice now you’ve saved my butt. First time, you got me off that island. At least I’m pretty sure it’s you. Not many other adventurers around to help the 1st Princess with bringing down the Golden Prince. Gosh, that was news. Didn’t think that sending you on a quest would have you butting heads with the guy. All those months I spent trying to get off that island–and it turns out all I had to do was my job!”

I took a step back, horror in my wake.

“Gosh, you wouldn’t believe how fast headquarters shooed me away! They didn’t want anyone finding out there was a branch on a pirate island. Bad for optics, you know? I got sent home pronto–and they gave me a cushy job as deputy guildmaster! I even have my own desk! A real one, this time. Not just a bar counter. You really saved me. I’ve been meaning to thank you already. I won’t forget this, you know?”

She sat up slightly. 

A poor impersonation of a receptionist at work. But even a poor impersonation was a sight more dark and harrowing than any demon spawned from the abyss.

“In fact, now that I’m a deputy guildmaster, if you give me your copper ring, I can–”

“Ohho … hohoho?! M-My apologies, but whatever words you’re about to say must wait … potentially forever … I’ve a permanently busy schedule including scolding a baroness, wrinkling my nose at dinner and then staring at a ceiling! I … I cannot tarry!” 

“But this would only take a–”

I closed her cage.

Then, I swept towards the conveniently opened doorway with urgency in my steps.

Indeed, I had no time to waste! Each second I permitted the rodents to nibble away at my kingdom was another second spent away from the sanctuary of … of anywhere else!

Because if there was one thing more ominous than any amount of darkness, it was surely the personal gratitude of someone who sat behind a desk at the Adventurer’s Guild.