I waited.

Within a small clearing dominated by nothing more than a mound smaller than the discarded pile of gifts I threw outside my bedroom window, I waited as I stood idly upon the unofficial border between my fair kingdom and the house of cobras ruled by the Grand Duchess. 

All around me, the sound of a forest pressed by a quiet wind sought to soothe my aches and pains. It needed to try harder. The soft rustling of leaves and the gentle breeze tickling my hair was all well and fine, but it wasn’t a 74 x 42 inch bathtub filled with coarse lavender salt, moringa oil and surrounded by enough scented candles to summon an archdemon. 

Frankly, if nature wished to appease me, it needed to drop a tub of white marble filled to the brim with 40.27°C bath water. And when I say filled, I mean to capacity. If I didn’t hear half the liquid being wasted as it swept to the side when I settled myself in, it was already a disappointment.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ……”

I calmed myself with a deep sigh, then quietly considered the daisies growing amidst the unspoiled grass requiring urgent pruning.

An important task. And one in which more than enough hoodlums were volunteering for. 

They certainly had no other reason to be here.

Turning my gaze upwards, I took in the sight of my imminent helpers, dressed as they were in the black and gold livery of Granholtz’s soldiers. Hardly suitable gardening attire, but I wasn’t one to reject willing help based on their manner of dress alone.

No, I rejected them based on other things. Sometimes.

Such as the heavy horses they rode while pounding the earth.

There were scores of them, armoured riders with their war steeds clad fully in mail as they stomped through an unkempt forest which most certainly didn’t need their help ruining. Not least when their halberds already ploughed through the branches of the trees with the efficacy of knights after sniffing out a maiden in distress. 

Except unlike knights, these were just as likely to cause maidens to flee to the nearest bear.

Distinguishable by their dark helmets adorned with jagged wings, they were Granholtz’s answer to our chivalrous warriors. Except none of their vows concerned enraging the fathers of towngirls. 

No … these were more likely to haul them away in irons.

Blackguards.

Granholtz’s most vaunted soldiers, defending only the honour of their spider mistress and those she deemed least expendable. Much was said about them, and all from the relatives of their slain enemies. 

Brutes to a tee. And several duchies too close to my border. Even the lowliest of new recruits from either of our nations knew not to wander here. Ordinarily, a misplaced sneeze towards this hidden demarcation was tantamount to an act of war.

And yet here were the Grand Duchess’s pets, banners aloft as they abandoned codes of conduct signed not in ink, but in the spirit of common sense.

Why … I could scarcely believe it.

Our noisy neighbours were ever a cause for commotion. Even babies sleeping in their cots at the other end of my kingdom could be woken by the rowdiness coming from their nation. But at least they had the dignity to pretend it wasn’t them making the racket behind their walls.

But here?

I could practically hear the ground shaking to their stampede!

An outrageous desecration of all expected norms!

The agreement was clear! Plausible deniability from all parties! So long as our childish acts of antagonism towards each other were given the minimal level of façade, we could all continue to send soldiers disguised as peasants to bang pots and pans at each other well past sociable hours!

But this … ?

It was more than the ringing of kitchen instruments!

It was the crunch of hooves breaking twigs. Of greaves scratching against plate skirts. Of sword hilts clinking against blackened cuirasses. And of poor timing against my need to use the bathroom. 

I shut my eyes, all the while my hand massaged my fragile temples.

Granholtz. Fine. 

Soldiers approaching the demarcation. Fine. 

An extreme disregard for protocol. Fine. 

… This was nothing I couldn’t fix! 

I had utterly no idea what fiendish ploy they were committing to here, but whatever it was … yes, I could fix it! Just like I fix everything else!

That they were brazenly doing away with centuries of tacit understanding was nothing to be concerned about. No, not at all. What did it matter that Granholtz encroaching on our territory was the gravest fear of all my family stretching back generations? 

That this remained a constant threat simply meant it’d never come to pass.

Indeed, my kingdom was too valiant to be quelled by such uncouth displays of clear sabre rattling … yes, even if the sabres were replaced by a significant number of pikes, halberds and other weapons purely suited for the grim end of warfare and little else.

A poor omen. 

For them, that is.

Frankly, I had little idea how they were going to bow while wielding such cumbersome weapons.

“Coppelia,” I said, opening my eyes to the sight of her carefree smile.

“Yes?”

“I do believe this is a small problem.”

“I dunno, because this definitely smells like a big one. Let me tell you, a lot of horses together equals sadness to my amazing nose.”

I sniffed the air and immediately agreed.

There truly was nothing quite as rancid as the stench of duplicity. Except my father’s fermented cupcakes. But I didn’t speak about that. Nobody did. Especially the dignitaries who not only lost their memories of them, but also the reasons they declined our offer of grubbly carrots for precious gemstones. One of our finest trade deals ever secured.

“A big problem is when I’m discovered to be sleeping with my eyes open during my mandatory tea parties. Then I must face punishment in the form of remaining conscious for the remaining few minutes.”

“Wow, you can keep your eyes open while sleeping?”

“It’s not necessarily sleeping. More a self-induced coma.”

“That’s amazing. Do you drool when you do that as well, or only while you’re dozing on the horse?”

I covered my mouth in horror … while also wiping away any evidence to remain.

“Coppelia! Granholtz is literally upon our doorstep! I need them leaving me, not judging me!”

My mostly loyal handmaiden giggled, before turning to the scores of mounted figures exiting from their well trampled side of the forest.

Wearing enough armour to shield against bolts of arrows as much as the sweat from their own horses, the first of these elite soldiers gathered in formation as they came to a pause, standing to attention for whatever grim sight was to follow.

I didn’t need to wait long.

A great beast of a man, a ridiculous greatsword upon his back as he rode a destrier whose mane was less that of a horse and more a lion. And though I knew not his name, I knew his occupation.

The commander of the Rensdraldt Fortress. 

His entire armour was ostentatious, embellished with more gold than could be found in a fresh mine. And yet beneath the decoration was black steel forged for war and little else besides.

Without hesitation, he made his way past his waiting guards, and towards my perfectly sculpted pose of daring idleness.

“Sooooooo … lots of guys with pointy sticks, pointy armour and pointy shields. What’s the plan?”

“The plan is that they leave.”

“Great! … What’s our plan, though?”

“If they stop before the demarcation, admire our far more pleasant side of the forest and then turn themselves around–a summoning of their ambassador in order to deliver a strongly worded diplomatic protest to their irresponsible misadventure around the hard border of our sovereign realm.”

“And if they don’t stop?”

“A strongly worded diplomatic protest. Except we don’t summon their ambassador. We deliver it in person to the gentleman in charge of these fine soldiers.”  

A cold silence filled the air, bereft of even the snorting of horses. 

All gazes were set on the beast of a man as he pulled his destrier to a stop, before dismounting with surprising nimbleness. He walked the remainder of the distance to the demarcation.

And then–

His toe touched the line. 

He stopped there and then, his gaze sweeping my fair realm … before finally pausing at where we stood–scarcely a handful of paces away from him.

Coppelia turned to me at once, fists clenched to her chest as she eagerly watched proceedings

“The guy who's clearly in charge and first in queue to become a fruit slime is pretty much standing on your super vague, arbitrary and easily misunderstood line, isn't he? I can feel it! What do you want to do?”

I gave it a moment’s thought.

Then, I offered both Coppelia and all those present a stretch of my arms and a simple smile.

There. Preparations complete.

“Why, I'll do only what all visitors who graciously stop at my borders expect.”

“Let them queue for several hours so that the first day of their holiday is always wasted?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Of course.” I raised my hand to my lips, barely hiding my lips as I walked forwards. “Ohohoho … to inspect all visitors for proper compliance to our strict entry requirements is a process which cannot be rushed.”

At once, I could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes snapping towards me. 

A sensation as humdrum as the way the moonlight reflected off my clear skin and delicate features. But I wasn’t only here as a princess of the kingdom. 

No … I was also here as its chief border control officer.

If any of these upstanding citizens of a foreign nation wished to enter mine, then they needed to show proof of identity, reasons for visiting, enough crowns to pay for an entry visa, plus appropriate fees for any large or dangerous items … of which the associated costs were now drastically increasing by the second.

After all–

As a princess, I had no qualms about taxing anybody who wished to enter my kingdom.

And that included the armies of other nations as well.