As the winner of every edition of the Royal Villa’s Horticultural Flower Show since the day I created it, it took a notable amount to impress me in the gardening world.

Over the years, I had as many challengers to my reign as I did suitors at my feet. Each summer, nobility from near and afar were invited to decorate their own corner of our courtyard, and in doing so were offered another opportunity to reveal their lack of acumen. 

To this day, the judges I had under my direct employ had never once been required to glance furtively in my direction or wrestle with their inner morality. The decisions were unanimous and immediate.

In the Kingdom of Tirea, I may be 5th to the throne. But in the world of gardening, I had never once vacated my seat.

A surprise, then.

Because before me, a garden of flowers shone beneath the afternoon light.

Pink orchids danced with white peonies in the wind, watched by an audience of honey bees rolling in the nectar of spring marigolds. Bundles of red lilies lay wrapped by strings of yellow tulips, finished like elegant bouquets. Here, there and everywhere, a mesmerising rainbow of colours greeted my eyes. 

Yet it wasn’t the vivid display, and certainly not the lack of overall tidiness, which earned my attention.

Rather, it was the fact that this particular garden was entirely vertical.

 

Elina’s Magical Store

(Formerly Elina’s Magical Tours)

Newly re-opened! 

Everything for home and the horizon! 

All pots, pans and potions on a 50% discount!

 

Squeezed between two competing bars filled with the noise of soldiers who I very hoped would not be required to answer the call to duty in the next few hours, a store made the most of its unfortunate predicament by warding away the stench with a shield of leafy vines and flowering plants. 

Even the signboard was barely legible, covered by wreaths of green as though long abandoned to the elements. 

A novel display. 

But still, hopelessly unkempt. 

I deemed it worthy of a single glance. And also a nibble from Apple as he began to eat a periwinkle. A greater prize than anything I’d offer the competition in the courtyard. If he ever attempted to consume anything touched by the hands of nobility, I’d need to intervene for fear of him falling ill.

Then again, perhaps that won’t be an issue.

After all–

“Mmh~ it’s slightly slimy from being watered. It takes away the crunch, but adds a silky, jellyfish-like texture instead. Want some?”

It’d require Coppelia not going through the exhibits first.

My loyal handmaiden looked up from her kneeling position. A sprig of lavender roses was in her mouth. Another was in her outstretched hand. 

“Coppelia, I don’t eat flowers.”

“I know. That’s why I’m offering.”

She promptly stuffed the spare sprig in her mouth, still managing to beam despite the act of chewing. 

I let out a quiet groan, then dismounted from Apple. 

Should the day come where a foe managed to expertly separate me from my entourage, it’d be because they tossed random bits of flora in our direction.

Leaving Apple to his buffet and hoping my loyal handmaiden would follow, I strode through a door of daffodils and entered the store to the sound of a tinkling bell.

I instinctively paused for the servants to assemble in an orderly line and wait for me to judge who had the honour of disappointing me first. 

None came. A tragic thing. That I should cause any bell to sound and not result in a stampede of sweaty faces as staff feared for their livelihoods was more indicative of how far I was from the Royal Villa than any map could show me. 

No … all that waited to disappoint me was the store itself.

Despite its exterior, the inside was threadbare. 

The minimum foundations of a shop greeted me, where empty gaps within shelves were optimistically thinned by the spacing of goods. And none of them magical. 

Within the corner, boxes of pots, pans and weakly coloured potions were in various stages of being opened or hidden away. The overwhelming lack of organisation made it impossible to tell which.

“This … I believe it is the shop the dozing guildmaster pointed us towards?”

I sent a glance back towards Coppelia, hoping the directions provided had failed us. 

She answered with half a shrug, the rest being lost as her attention was stolen by the nearest … things on display. 

They almost looked like tableware. Almost. Because anything not made from fine porcelain at the minimum was such an insult to dining standards that eating with one’s hands would be more civilised. 

I shuddered.

A … general store.

Suffice to say, there was nothing here the stewards would rush to purchase after a purposefully vague wave of my hands. 

Were this not the premises of the latest subject pining for my intervention, I’d never seek to plant my boots here. Each moment I did devalued the marks of quality I as a princess offered by automatic right of frequenting any establishment. 

The sooner our business was concluded, the better. 

And that involved my loyal handmaiden not showing inordinate amounts of interest in a stack of unadorned cups.

I peered closer, then covered my mouth with my hands.

It was … clay.

Why, I was almost lost for words!

“C-Coppelia! I shouldn’t have to remind you that we have standards. Ones which the pottery here fails to graze the bottom of. If you wish to purchase tableware, there’s an excellent glass artisan my family commissions regularly. He’ll even decorate it with a portrait of your face.”

“Hmmmmmm … does decorated glass of my face come with fruit slimes, though?”

“Excuse me?”

To my bafflement, Coppelia plucked out a fruit slime from the depths of the cups.

Not an actual fruit slime. Then it would already be in the process of being punted through the wall. But a clay fruit slime much like the cup it made its home in. 

“Look! Isn’t it cute? It’s even in the middle of bouncing! See how squishy it is!”

I rolled my eyes in response, exasperated at how my entire journey could be stalled by even a few seconds by such a toy.

And yet … my following disparagement failed to materialise.

Indeed, as I caught a glimpse of the little ripples captured by the clay, I couldn’t help but lean in, studiously examining the minute craftsmanship of the fruit slime caught in the midst of a bounce. 

“Hmm … how curious.”

“That’s just another word for, ‘You’re right, it’s really cute’.”

“E-Excuse me! I never said that. I … why, I merely note that although it’s made from lesser material than any statuette, my highly discerning eyes fail to spot any disturbance in its make! Indeed, although the clay is of poor quality, the craftsmanship is not.”

A strange combination. And also pitiful. 

That artisans exist who did not have access to finer materials was a loss to the arts. An unfortunate thing, yet also encouraging. 

Perhaps after my return to the Royal Villa, I could sponsor a crafts event much like my flower shows. If promising talent exists in the kingdom, then merely dazzling them with a peek into the Royal Villa would surely be enough to ensure their loyalty onwards!

Another consideration for later.

For now, we had quite enough fruit slimes on our journey without picking up additional ones as we went along. And neither the amusement of Coppelia, nor the hopeful eyes of the pixie now floating beside me could result in me filling my pouch with unnecessary trinkets.

Yes.

A pixie.

“It’s only 5 silver crowns,” she said, holding up the digits on her tiny palm for emphasis. “Made by a famous, mysterious craftsman in Reitzlake! They’re really popular right now. You normally have to queue to buy them.”

I blinked in quiet surprise.

A tiny being barely the size of my palm. 

Even so, her smile filled up my view almost as much as Coppelia’s. She hovered beside me with wings as luminescent as a firefly. Yet despite twinkling with magic, her tousled hair and simple brown apron atop a sensible work dress could have fit any person doomed to walk on two feet.

A denizen from Pixiemoor. Quite the rarity in my kingdom. Especially while wearing the guise of a shopkeeper.

“I’m afraid my silver crowns are destined for greater deeds than purchasing fruit slimes. As popular as these are, I shall need them for the days ahead to fund a means to rid this kingdom of the greatest scourge known to its history.”

“Shame. How about a pot, pan or potion for 50% off?”

“No, thank you.”

“How about a pot, pan or potion for 70% off?” 

“No.”

“What about–”

“I’m not a customer.”

It was like watching the sun deflate. 

The pixie’s wings slowed, revealing a pattern of black and green tulips.

Still, she hovered in place, offering a tidy smile as she watched her income fail to move.

“Oh, I see. Are you here for some of my chrysanthemum cuttings?”

“Excuse me?”

“A lot of people see my flowers and want a cutting to take back. Did you want one?”

“Certainly not. My orchard is highly organised. I couldn’t fathom the chaos should one of the unpruned flowers take root. No, I’m here regarding other ways you may assist me. I was informed that a tradeswoman here could provide information related to the attacks beyond the gate.”

The pixie merely looked confused.

Coppelia pointed at me.

“She’s a C-rank adventurer.”

“Oh!” The pixie’s eyes widened at once, though her confusion didn’t dissipate. “Sorry, I had no idea! A C-rank adventurer? … Then, wait, does that mean you’re here about my commission?”

“That remains to be seen. I understand you have a missing persons request. I shall be frank, my only concern is discovering those responsible for the cowardly attacks upon the kingdom’s soldiers. Should your request pertain to this, then I may consider rendering assistance.”

The pixie clapped her hands. The sound, like her voice, was clear as a running river.

“Gosh, I wasn’t expecting this! I was told my commission wasn’t going to be answered anytime soon.”

“By adventurers, no. But by angels of problem solving, yes.”

The pixie blinked, her eyes wandering down to the copper ring disgracing my finger. 

I chose not to correct myself.

“I … I see! Well, I’m not sure what Tressa has told you, but–”

“If you’re referring to the local guildmaster, she’d scarcely rolled onto the side of consciousness when she spoke to me.”

“Was she drunk again?”

“She was asleep.”

“Oh.” The pixie paused. “Sorry about that.”

I pursed my lips. 

Hearing others apologising for these layabouts only made my determination to right the wrong of their existence even more pronounced. 

Still, I conceded it shouldn’t even be possible to be disappointed by the Adventurer’s Guild here. Not while a garrison of highly capable guards existed to perform any pressing functions in their stead.

“Any missing persons should be reported to the garrison. Is there a reason you choose to rely upon those who shed their drool in plain sight?”

“For lack of others, mostly. The garrison can’t help. Not with this. You see, the ones who are missing are on the border with Granholtz. The actual border, that is.”

Ah.

And there was revealed the anchor around my kingdom’s defenders.

Although the Loerstadt Gate and the Rensdraldt Fortress constituted the two most recognisable borders, the official one was a much finer line. 

No blade of grass went unclaimed, after all. And both my kingdom and Granholtz claimed more than the other would prefer.

Tristan was prudent enough to not permit those under his command to carelessly wander. Yet even so, were our own subjects at risk, I knew he’d never falter in his duty to ensure their continued ability to offer their extensive taxes in repayment.

Clearly, something else was at play.

“And who, exactly, is missing?”

The pixie shrugged.

“Elves.”

I closed my eyes to the world, cherishing the few seconds of peace.

I expected nothing but headaches waiting at the Loerstadt Gate. 

But elves? 

Ugh. That wasn’t a headache. It was an ensemble where a single violin was persistently a half-measure behind every other. Unquenchable pain.

“Explain.”

“Well, you might have seen from the sign, but this place isn’t actually a shop. Or it is. But I don’t sell pots, pans and potions. I sell tours beyond the gate.”

“Surely, you jest.”

“Nope. It’s nice out there. Nobody’s built on it. People want to see the berry forests, the hogs running around … and, well, the elves.”

“I wasn’t aware that the frolicking of elves constituted a tourism activity. Certainly not here. The region between the Loerstadt Gate and the Rensdraldt Fortress is not a playground. It’s an area of considerable diplomatic contention.”

“Sure, but people like thrills. And elves. Did I mention elves? They’re hard to find, since they move around all the time. Except now they’re really hard to find. I haven’t heard from my contacts for months now.”

“The elves are nomadic. Is that an issue?”

The pixie shook her head … followed up by a nod.

It was as much clarity as I ever expected.

“At first, no. I thought they were just moving. But the silence has been total. I’ve received nothing. No visits, no letters and nothing about chasing the handful of copper crowns I owe for a tab I picked up last season. And let me tell you, those guys never let their debts go. Something’s wrong. And it all started when these attacks did. I’m worried, and not just for my bottom line. I want to find out what happened, but it’s dangerous out there. None of Tressa’s adventurers are C-rank, and the guards aren’t allowed anywhere near Granholtz.”

I nodded. 

The diplomatic fallout from any encroachment would be severe. Even Tristan venturing out with his knights to flush out whatever foes hid in the shadows was almost unprecedented. As both the second prince and the commander of the garrison, I had little doubt that more eyes were currently upon him than even when he took the podium.

Normally, that’d be an issue for me as well. 

But I wasn’t here as a princess. 

No, I was here as an … that other word.

And this meant … whatever I did could be excused! 

After all, what was adventuring, if not thoroughly elbowing the desires of sovereign nations? 

Why, if something were to happen, it wouldn’t be my fault, would it? Even if a tree were to mysteriously be blown down and sent into the direction of the Grand Duchess’s tower, that wouldn’t be a cause for summoning my kingdom’s ambassadors. Not at all. It’d just mean the Adventurer’s Guild would need to grovel as their standing plummeted in all nations.

And what a terrible thing that would be.

“Ohohoho … ohoho …”

“Um–?”

“Ohhohohohohohohohohohohohoho!!”

The pixie flew slightly away, her mouth opening wordlessly. A common reaction to my beautiful smile and sonorous laughter.

There would be more to come.

The elves may not forget their debts. But neither did I. And the Adventurer’s Guild owed me more than simply crowns. They owed me a considerable amount of my pride. And that was a debt unending.

“Very well! You may point the way.”

“Huh?”

“The missing elves. Where are they?”

The pixie’s eyes shone. Her wings sped up, the pattern no longer visible. 

“You’ll do it? You’ll find them?”

“I’ll find the ones responsible for darkening my kingdom’s borders. Should any elves stumble into the light once the shadows vacate, then that is a boon.”

The pixie blinked at me. 

A moment later, she shrugged, accepting me for the considerable help I was.

“Good enough. But it’s not something I can just point out. The forest is dense and unpaved. There aren’t any signs or landmarks.”

All I heard from her was the promise of overgrown roots, shrubbery and mud. A terrible omen for Apple and Coppelia, who were going to have to slowly chew through the forest until nothing remained while I supervised.

“But don’t worry,” continued the pixie, not knowing it was only the local ecology that needed to be concerned. “I can give you the premium tour package.”

“The premium tour package?”

The pixie smiled warmly.

“I’ll guide you. Elina is my name. Just Elina. You’ll never pronounce my family name. And I thank you for accepting my commission. There should be no issues going through the gate with you as my escort.”

“Stop.” I held up my hand at once. “I am not your escort.”

“Huh?”

“Should you wish to act as my guide, I shall permit this. However, you must never refer to me as your escort under any circumstances. My very life depends upon it.”

“I … I see?” A puzzled expression met me. Little was this pixie aware of the deathly harm it’d cause to my soul if I, as a princess, was ever considered to be anyone else’s escort. “Then, allow me to guide you.”

“Very well. Let’s begin at once.”

“Okay! … But before we do, I have a question.”

“Yes?”

The pixie spun around, then revealed a miniature fruit slime held in her arms.

“Are you interested in buying a fruit slime? I can also sell in bulk.”