Ophelia the Snow Dancer’s mini-arc. 1/4.

******

 

Ophelia considered herself a law abiding citizen.

Sure, the last thing she paid for was the lockpick she used to burgle everything with. But all things were relative. 

She didn’t murder everyone she met for the sake of it. Which given the people she knew made her more than a sword saint. It made her a saint. And if not randomly murdering people wasn’t enough to qualify her for that, well–

There was also the fact she was willing to queue. 

And when did law breakers ever do that? 

Ophelia whistled as she waited, all the while performing her perfect imperso … her perfect display as a model citizen. 

When the guy behind her stepped on her heel, she didn’t murder him. 

When the old lady in front took ten minutes to fill up the space in front of her, she didn’t murder her. 

Ophelia was on a roll. And so the next time a guard chased after her, realised who she was, then started running away in the opposite direction, she’d yell at their fleeing figure, protesting her innocence by pointing at this exact time and place.

A sunny afternoon drowned out by the shadow of the Rensdraldt Fortress.

It was huge. A bastion of dark stone and mean faces. All spiky and protruding, with towers looking over other towers and even more towers looking over them as well. And probably more towers elsewhere as well even if they were smaller, just for the sake of it.

And their collective job was to act as the entrance to the Grand Duchy of Granholtz.

Ophelia was delighted. As were her ducks.

Traversing the dense forest between the Loerstadt Gate and the Rensdraldt Fortress should only have taken a day. Instead, everything from blood vultures to first time thieves had tried their luck. 

Not on her. But on her ducks. 

She didn’t fault them. Her ducks were great. Both of them were. 

And they were also special.

Duck A had blue eyes which creepily and hilariously glowed in the dark to scare away children. It didn’t always do that. But when it did, every robber under the sky came to have a swipe. More than once she’d caught people asking about Duck A while fingering daggers up their sleeves.

It also had a crystal beak and unbreakable feathers. Anyone would want to steal a duck like that. Ophelia had tried to mitigate it. She’d painted over the beak. It wasn’t her best job. The paint flaked constantly, especially with all the prodding and pecking ducks liked to do. But it was better than nothing. 

Then there was Duck B.

Duck B was really fluffy.

And so–

Lots and lots of delays. Because tracking down everyone who had a go at dashing away with her ducks was nothing if not bloody. As the famous saying goes, ‘steal from Ophelia, get stabbed’.

But that all changed now!

She was here. Finally. With both ducks in tow. 

And in a moment, she’d officially be in the Grand Duchy of Granholtz. A place which only did big. And big meant rich people. Enough that even a duck with occasionally glowing eyes and a crystal beak with flaking paint could probably roam for a few minutes without being kidnapped. 

“Next in line! Proceed to the gate!”

A haggard gate captain who lifted more quills than swords waved Ophelia over. 

Despite the grandeur of the fortress and the size of the garrison, only a dozen soldiers milled around the main gate. Most busied themselves polishing their shoes as they did as little as possible to alleviate the single-file queue. Because more than one queue would mean the work would vanish. And that would mean boredom.

“Roll call!” Ophelia swivelled around. Her ducks looked up at her, giving tiny flaps of their wings. “Duck A?”

Quack, quack.

“Duck B?”

Quack, quack. 

Ophelia beamed. 

Duck A? Check. Duck B? Check.

A small accompaniment, but even that was almost too much. It would’ve been easier had she not let them wander. But the world was too big to be a prison. Plus it was fun seeing them all excited when they found a new pond or a new bush to explore.

Usually, she went and did something useful instead, though.

Things like burgling stationery shops for art supplies.

True, her cubism was nothing to write home about. It was more circles than cubes. But that wasn’t a hobby she was trying particularly hard to get better at. She just needed a lot of paint. 

She leaned down and checked Duck A’s beak one final time.

It was unnaturally shiny. Five layers of yellow paint finished with a heaping of varnish did that. But it also meant the soldiers wouldn’t try to confiscate it. And Ophelia in turn wouldn’t need to create a very awkward scene for all the children waiting in the queue.

Hearing a purposeful cough calling her over, she skipped over to the gate captain waiting with a quill and checklist in hand.

She received a tired, but studious gaze in exchange for her smile. The man frowned at her from behind his helmet in the same way that he frowned when he woke up, frowned when something sad happened and frowned when something happy happened.

A moment later, he adjusted his visor to take in the sight of the two ducks by Ophelia’s feet.

“Name?” he said, making no comment as he returned his attention to her.

“Ophelia. And this is Duck A. This is Duck B.” 

The gate captain scribbled something on his checklist.

“Are you a citizen of the Grand Duchy of Granholtz or any of its constituent territories?”

“Nope.”

“Are you in possession of any goods, crowns or personal belongings with a valuation of 100 gold crowns or over on your person?”

“Nope.”

The gate captain paused. His eyes swept at once to Ophelia’s side. 

“You have an elven sword with a decorative hilt and an embedded pommel. What is its value?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t buy it.”

Ophelia could hear the cogs working in the man’s head while he parsed the unhelpful vagueness of her reply. 

She enjoyed it very much.

Yet after a moment, he appeared to take in her distinct lack of any other belongings, then added another scribble. A good scribble. Ophelia had spent enough time at Aquina’s court to know that when a scribble was bad, it was just a cross.

“... And what is the purpose of your visit?”

“Sightseeing,” answered Ophelia, giving the well rehearsed reply.

The gate captain nodded. Already, he was looking at the next in the queue. 

“Very well. Then you may–”

“And to kill a dragon.”

The man paused. He blinked as he looked up. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’m here to kill a dragon.”

“... What do you mean you’re here to kill a dragon?”

Ophelia tilted her head slightly, considering how best to rephrase it.

“I’m here to kill a dragon,” she repeated.

The gate captain raised his visor entirely. Suddenly, all the wrinkles on his face appeared, as though conjured by the only non-straightforward encounter he’s had all month.

“By dragon, are you referring to Valerian the Revered, Patron Guardian of the Grand Duchy of Granholtz and eternal symbol of our nation?”

“No. But I am now. Where does he live?”

Several seconds passed.

“Ma’am, it’s highly unwise to make jokes regarding the slaying of our cultural icons. As I’ve already noted your arrival, I’m willing to overlook the faux pas. But I suggest you take caution against using any words which may be misinterpreted. It could be seen as inflammatory.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m not trying to be inflammatory.”

“That’s fine. As long as you understand.”

“I do.” Ophelia nodded in all seriousness. “So where’s the guy?”

“... Excuse me?”

“The dragon. Valerian whoever. Long story short, I met this human girl, and then I got hit on the head really hard. Now I need to kill a dragon.”

The gate captain stared at her. 

He said nothing. But he didn’t need to. His scowl replaced the frown. Then he peered down at his checklist before readying a guillotining swipe across the face.

At that moment, one of the other soldiers gingerly approached.

“Sir … I recognise her … she’s the Snow Dancer.”

“What?” The gate captain’s hand paused, his eyes blinking as he took in Ophelia for what was likely the very first time. “The sword saint?”

“I … I believe so, sir.”

Suddenly, the silence resounded amidst the gate of the busy fortress.

The soldiers by the side no longer busied themselves by polishing their boots. Instead, all eyes were on Ophelia as disbelief and confusion plunged into their camp. Several eyes traded uncertain glances. Several more looked up at the crossbowmen upon the ramparts, their lazing cut short by a change in atmosphere even they failed to miss. 

“Yep, that’s me,” said Ophelia, smiling cheerfully. “So better let me in, huh? Otherwise, I might just end up murdering all of you. Ahahaha~”

The gate captain and the soldier looked at one another.

And then–

“Aha … ahahah …”

“Haha … hah …”

“Ahahaha~ but no, seriously, let me in and then point out the dragon for me. I need to kill it. And I don’t want the tourist lair, either. I want its actual lair. The one you guys know. Chop, chop. I’m reaaaaaaally tired. You’ve got no idea how long it took to get here just because people won’t stop trying to steal my ducks. And when I’m tired, well, it’s finger across neck time. Zip.”

Silence answered Ophelia’s finger across neck gesture.

Silence and pallid faces. 

Seeing the sudden stillness reverberating in the air like a call to arms, a number of the soldiers hesitantly brought their hands down upon their hilts as they braved a step forwards, all none the wiser regarding what was now occurring.

Then, just as the gate captain’s mouth opened into the shape of a bellow–

Ophelia vanished.

“Ahhahahahaha~I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding!”

Untrackable by any of those present, she suddenly appeared between the gate captain and the soldier. Their heads could scarcely turn in time before they felt Ophelia’s palms reaching around to clap at their shoulders like old friends in a bar.

“Ahahaha~ the look on your faces! You guys thought I was being serious, weren’t you?”

“H-Huh? How did you … when …”

“Of course I’m not here to kill a dragon! Do I look like the type of beautiful elf who’d do that? Nope, No way, I’d never do anything so fun and definitely manageable. Nah, I’m just here to tour the sights. Granholtz Cathedral. The Grand Bazaar. That big naked statue. Maybe I’ll join a tour group for the White Citadel while I’m here. I might even try to hassle the Grand Duchess for an autograph. Wonder how long it’ll take before I get kicked right back out for that, huh? Ahaha~”

Beside her, the gate captain remained stock still. Even against Ophelia’s clapping palms, both his expression and his figure were as unmoving as a boulder.

A moment later … he gave a small chuckle. 

The relief was palpable. Hands left hilts as all present relaxed.

And then–

He finished swiping his quill across his checklist.

“Your entry is denied.”