My kingdom was truly beautiful.

A vista of snow-capped mountains, verdant forests and distant shores illuminated beneath the moonlight. No matter what wonders one could build with hands, none could match what was shaped by nature, time, and crushing building regulations ensuring that not even a shed could be dreamed without a contribution to the Royal Treasury.

Here was a sight grander than any cathedral or castle, mocking especially the citadel of the Grand Duchess as she peered upon what she wished could only be hers. And so as I enjoyed the brisk breeze brushing past my hair and tickling my skin, I revelled in both the majestic backdrop and the sturdiness of Coppelia’s arms as I promptly dropped from a height surpassing even my bedroom.

“...... Hiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee …… !!!”

It was, yes … somewhat horrifying.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~”

Her smile evident even as the world rushed by in a haze of colours, Coppelia proceeded to skip her way upon the falling rubble like a mountain gazelle riding an avalanche. All the while, I was left to ponder why so much destruction seemed to follow wherever I went.

It certainly wasn’t my fault.

No, not at all. I was a paragon of patience and restraint. And if anyone queried why my track record seemed to suggest otherwise, I had a host of alibis as endless as this drop to provide. 

Chief amongst them being intent. 

There were many things I wished to experience–all of them involving rolling around in my bed or upon my soft grass. Very little involved explaining to my parents the wanton destruction of our own lands and property. And absolutely nothing had to do with the alarming nausea I was feeling from hopping down to the surface in defiance of the vertical drop gravity would prefer. 

“Cooopppeeliiiaaaa … I dooon’t feeeeel soooo gooood … !!” 

“Ahahahaha~ I don’t know what you said, but I agree!”

My response was lost as a gulp of air rushed into my mouth.

Struggling to even close my eyes, I bemoaned the sight of unrestrained destruction falling like raindrops around us. And then Coppelia hopped clear, using a section of a wall inhabited by a fireplace to propel us away from the worst that elven architecture wished to hurl at us.

With a landing as soft as when I leapt onto my bed, she landed surefooted against the grass. 

I nodded with appreciation at the duty of care she showed in not releasing me immediately.

Then, I proceeded to double over while half-heartedly waving away the blinding cloud of dust. Doing my best to ignore the giant mound of rubble now requiring an entire village of peasants to stop sinking into the soil, I made the error of turning to a treeline flattened by the spire of the falling tower. 

I groaned. 

That would deserve another scolding … provided, of course, that I survived all the other ones.

I pursed my lips in thought.

Perhaps … Perhaps it wasn’t so important to return home … ?

“Wow~ this one’s a record!” Coppelia placed her hand to her brow as she peered through the dust. “Normally it’s just a wall you bring down. This time it’s loads. How many floors was that?”

“None,” I replied, hastening to my defence at once. “This was already a ruin when we arrived.”

“That’ll never work.”

“It will. By definition, we cannot break what was already destroyed.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you can break it even more.”

“This was a controlled disassembly of a condemned structure into more manageable, shovel-sized pieces. An example of both efficiency and foresight. And as you can see, we even took the time to squash some trees clearly showing signs of degradation. They may have been plagued. We’ve done well.”

“Ooooh, I see~ is that what we’re going with?”

“We are. I hope I have your understanding on the matter.”

“You have my empty coin purse’s understanding.”

“Coppelia, I’ve no idea how much coin you carry on you. But it’s most certainly not empty. You regularly purchase provisions before I provide you with the necessary crowns.”

My loyal handmaiden paused.

“Yes. Yes I do. Purchase them, that is.”

I covered my face with my palms.

A moment later, tranquillity met me as I promptly forgot the last few words of this conversation.

“A fitting end to an inglorious reign,” I said, straightening my posture as I nodded towards the greatest pile of rubble. “A swift mercy one who dared to call himself a king scarcely deserves. To be felled by the boot of a princess is significantly less painful than to be betrayed by his trusted lieutenants.”

“I dunno. I think being betrayed hurts less. This looks sort of painful.”

“Physical pain is temporary. The blackness of treason is forever. He perished with greater dignity than what was owed.”

“Oh, are we definitely talking about the guy in the past tense?”

“I certainly hope so. I’m not going to ruin more of the landscape on his account. What is the probability he isn’t dead?”

“Maybe … 95%?”

I widened my mouth in horror.

I’d tapped my sole upon a floor dirtied with squished macarons to bring this flying weasel down! Famed heroes had sacrificed less!

“R-Really now! It’s several thousand tonnes of stone, and that’s little compared to the weight of his choking embarrassment! … Surely, it’s at least 10%?”

“Nope, sorry. If you don’t see them kick the bucket, it means they’re still alive.”

I let out a groan.

A moment later–

Bwooooooomph!

A vast, fiery explosion of melted rubble was sent hurtling into the air. A breath of flames briefly lit up the sky in a rainbow consisting only of shades of fury.

His scales adorned in a coating of debris, the disguised peasant rose upon his clawed legs. A pair of twisted and broken wings half-unfurled as he rose from the smoking pile of broken furnishings and dashed schemes.

Scarlet streaked across his scales like rain dribbling across the tiles of a roof. And yet I knew from the bright shimmering that it was not all his own blood.

“Impudent … whelps!” he bellowed, his voice strangled, maddened by the contents of the fountain of blood draped across his form. “I am Eucian of the Stars! He who will darken this world with shadows, leaving nought but flames in his wake! I am destined to lead an empire unending! Fate has decreed my future! My dynasty will herald the endless night, drowning out even the stars!” 

Bwoomp.

A claw swept down, smashing the mound of melting rubble into the ground. The world shook as he climbed out, his bloodied form heralded by a banner of black smoke and a cloak of flames rising to shroud even the night.

Then, a crimson glow began to form behind his throat.

I could scarcely believe it.

This … This fiend! 

How dare he! Did he not know how close I was to escaping this ordeal without a single explosion?!

“My patience is at an end!” he gasped, an orb of swirling vengeance lit in his maw. “You know not what you have done! Your impertinence will be met with the full weight of my flames, burning until your cinders remain as the last light upon this world! You shall become the example to all! A monument of undying embers to serve as the first statue of my … what?” 

Suddenly–

A duck floated across the archdruid’s scaled face. His golden eyes blinked.

“[Snowstorm Crescent].”

Sheeeen.

A moment later, those golden eyes were offered an unimpeded view of the stars as they fell to the ground, his head swiped clean from his body in a single, dazzling sweep.

In its place, the elegant form of an elven woman with flowing silver hair and an unconcerned smile filled the air where the head had just been. 

Gracefully gliding as though borne aloft by wings, I witnessed a silver sword in hand, the blade mirroring the moonlight as it reached out with the poise of a sword saint. As the elven woman soared with the acumen of an umbrella tossed to the wind, it was all I could do to open my mouth at the second most bizarre thing I’d seen today.

What the most bizarre thing was, I wasn’t certain. 

Only that the night wasn’t yet over. And so I knew with a pained heart that keeping such an achievement open was only prudent.

Thus, I watched as the elven woman somersaulted before landing deftly beside the wyvern head now crushing the grass. Golden eyes stared up at her, locked in confusion and no small amount of indignation. 

Understandable, of course.

To be beheaded while in the midst of one’s final murder speech was appalling. Should the day ever come where I met the guillotine, the peasants could be assured that until I’d finished individually vowing vengeance upon each of them, my neck would have the consistency of enchanted steel. 

Slowly, the sword saint turned to face me.

… And then continued to turn as she promptly planted a hand atop her face.

Subject to her own wilful blindness, the woman twisted around repeatedly, much like a hedgehog trying to find its bearings after being punted from my orchard.

After several moments of struggling, I witnessed a heeled boot carefully tapping at the grass until the horn of a wyvern met her searching touch. She promptly kicked the head over, kicked it over again, and then set her sword to work. Occasionally peeking through her fingers, she hacked away to the sound of clinking no different to that of a mining pick. 

Soon, she’d sheathed her blade, before leaning down to scoop up a large tooth for her efforts.  

Her memento secured, the familiar figure finally turned her attention to us. 

Or as much as she could while partially covering her face. She was half a step off.

“Hi there,” said the Snow Dancer cheerfully. “Wait, I mean … uh, greetings, brave adventurers! I thank you for vanquishing this … thing, evil thing. You have performed a meritorious service to … wherever this place is. I see a bright future ahead of you both, filled with sunshine, happiness and murder. Now, if you’ll excuse me–”

I stared open-mouthed at the sword saint as she turned to leave.

A moment later–

I threw up my arms in total exasperation.

“Snow Dancer … ?!”

It was her! 

A client of my generous financial repayment plan for her rampant litany of crimes against the kingdom! And she’d yet to make a single contribution in either crowns or soap! Of all the outrageous individuals I’d met on this journey, here was one of the worst offenders!

… Why were there so many errant elves in my kingdom?!

“Hm?” She twirled around once more. “Snow Dancer? Who’s that? Some beautiful, mysterious elf with surprising amounts of housekeeping skills including sewing, cooking and cleaning?”

I widened my mouth, and yet no words came out.

Instead, I regarded the silver hair, the sword embedded with a sapphire upon the pommel, and most pertinently of all–the overwhelming lack of seriousness being displayed.

“You are, without a doubt, the Snow Dancer!”

“That’s just ridiculous. There’s no snow here. Why would someone called the Snow Dancer go anywhere without snow? That sounds like a branding problem waiting to happen. Now, since you’re not referring to me, I’m just going to leave and–”

“You are not leaving!” I said, stilling her with my pointed finger and creased brows. “Explain the purpose of your presence at once!”

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just shopping.”

“Shopping?!”

“For dragons. But since this apparently isn’t a dragon, I’m settling for a wyvern. For now at least. I might still need to shop for a dragon later. Hey, do you know any dragons?”

I placed my palm over my face, relishing the comfort of not seeing anything at all.

“... Has every elven vagrant been invited to some misbegotten soirée in this area?!”

“Hey, I wouldn’t know! I wasn’t invited anywhere, okay? I’m just popular. Things happen around me. Especially murders. Loads of murders. And definitely not because I’m the Snow Dancer or admitting criminal culpability. I’ve never murdered anyone.”

I released my palm, regretting immediately the sight of the figure still before me.

“You just beheaded a peasant.”

“A peasant?”

“The one whose head is beside your feet.”

“Oh, this guy?” The elven woman kicked the fallen wyvern head again. “He tripped and fell.”

“On your sword?”

“Yeah. It was horrible. I saw it happen.”

I turned to my loyal handmaiden.

Very well. An expert in the insane was required for this.

“Coppelia, you’re from the land of oddballs. How should I respond?”

She raised a hand to her mouth, giggling at a sight she clearly found more mundane than I did.

“Eh, she’s fine. Maybe. You meet all sorts, right? Besides, she helped snip off Mr. World Domination’s head! That puts her in our good books, right?”

“Her providing minor assistance in stain removal doesn’t offset the years of crimes both petty and high she’s conducted throughout this kingdom!”

“Hey, I chopped off that stain’s head! That’s more than minor assistance!”

The Snow Dancer gestured down at the wyvern head in indignation, forgetting the poor attempt she was doing at concealing her face. 

And had the same wyvern head not begun to shudder noticeably, I may have commented.

“Huh,” she said, her sapphire eyes blinking repeatedly. “That doesn’t usually happen.”

A moment later, each of us stepped back with varying amounts of horror and curiosity as the head of the shapeshifted archdruid began dragging itself back towards its fallen body. The movement was as ungainly as it was undignified, like some countryside baron stumbling through fen and thicket to escape my tax inspectors.

And then–

The head snapped back into place.

I turned at once to the Snow Dancer.

“This is your fault.”