novelzi Chapter 519: A Plan Of A Plan
Chapter 519: A Plan Of A Plan
Ophelia blew a strand of hair from her mouth.All it did was whip back into her face, now slightly moist as it was ushered by the strong breeze.
She wasn’t bothered in the slightest.
Instead, she hummed away as she climbed the steep face of Reitzlake Castle, and while her silhouette might be lost against the vast stonework, the sound of her contentment was not.
“Hm hm hm hm hmm ♫.”
Yes.
Ophelia was in a great mood. As were her ducks.
Quack, quack.
Duck A was making happy noises atop her head. Duck B was making happy noises in her left arm. And when her friendly ducks were happy, so was she.
However, that wasn’t the reason she was smiling as she made her way up the castle with a single hand.
Today … nothing had gone wrong!
“I know, right? I can feel the affection meter rising! Who knew that all it’d take was something as devious as wearing an apron?”
That’s right!
Ophelia had made tangible progress with her quest to marry a princess. Something that everybody incorrectly told her wasn’t possible.
After all, they didn’t know about her step-by-step action plan involving showing off her expert housekeeping skills. Except not even she could have predicted how successful it’d be.
She’d managed to make the princess pretend she disliked her shortcake at the first try. That was amazing. The way she denied enjoying it even while stuffing her face was the type of thing that almost made Ophelia forget that crazy human was actually the avatar of calamity.
Ophelia liked both sides of her. The princess side and the [Big Ball Of Doom] side.
Of course, it wasn’t all rosy.
Ophelia was many things. And a practical elf was one of them.
Progress was progress, but all that meant was the climb was becoming steeper. Literally so in her case. This castle was as vertical as it got. And it wasn’t made any easier by the gulls.
Luckily, Duck A was there to shoo them away, letting her focus on what needed to be done.
Pressing herself against the wall, she carefully opened the large pouch she wore, broke off a piece of a strawberry shortcake, then dutifully stuffed it into the large hole she found.
Once it was more or less full, she nodded and continued climbing, trying not to think about the fact that her masonry work was immediately seized upon by the gulls.
She studied the rest of the castle façade as she went, pausing to repeat her handiwork until she was satisfied all the biggest culprits were dealt with.
Eventually, she climbed the remaining stretch of wall, then reached for the top.
… What she found, however, was the tip of somebody’s shoe.
“Oh? Goodness me. Have you come to share in one of my favourite views, Snow Dancer?”
Ophelia blinked.
There, leaning over the precipice in response, was a smiling human.
That wasn’t surprising. Suspicious people waited for her in the most awkward spots all the time, because unlike her, none of them were ever busy.
What was unusual, however, was that she knew who this one was.
After all, few people managed to get a reputation so dubious that even Ophelia had to occasionally compete against it.
“I don’t blame you,” said Timon Quinsley … all the while slowly moving his cane towards Ophelia’s fingers. “Reitzlake is truly a balm for the eyes. True, the balm might sting sometimes, especially as far as the alleys, sewers and The Salty Mermaid goes. But when viewed from afar, I find it quite nice. A city of vibrant colours, no matter how many thieves try to blemish it.”
Ophelia groaned.
She already knew this man was doing the thing where he was pretending to think about prodding her off while likely actually thinking about doing it. And that meant she had to deal with the gloating first.
“Oh hey. It’s someone waiting for me on a rooftop. That’s definitely new.”
The guildmaster of the local Adventurer’s Guild chuckled.
“Indeed, I’m sure it’s been whole minutes since this last happened. Despite the efforts of the Crown Prince, we of ill-repute never diminish in either numbers or audacity. You can find us loitering beside every chimney these days, from castles and cathedrals all the way to humble guilds.”
“Yeah, it’s terrible. That used to be my thing. Now I can’t even look mysterious with the wind in my hair anymore. There’s always someone ruining the atmosphere. Usually while trying to recruit me to shady organisations.”
“Then be at ease. Although the Adventurer’s Guild is the shadiest of them all, I have no intention of offering an invitation.”
Ophelia paused.
“... Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh, in that case, can you tell me which bit of my terrible reputation makes it not worth it? I need to know so I can make it worse.”
“Your reputation isn’t an issue. Otherwise I would never be allowed to set foot through my own doors. The reason I’m not inviting you is simply because you’ve done something I find personally disagreeable, and I’m nothing if not petty.”
Timon Quinsley nudged his cane against Ophelia’s pinky.
Still, he smiled amicably.
“... Tell me, Snow Dancer, would you happen to know anything about a burglary in my vaults involving an enchanted sword? It’s quite distinctive. The Severing Oath, it’s called. It was wielded by one of the first companions, and thus represents a tangible piece of the guild’s history and my personal collection.”
“Nope. Never heard of it.”
“Oh? Are you claiming innocence, then?”
“Mmh. I don’t know anything about an enchanted sword stolen from your vaults. Other than the fact I did it. And also I have zero regrets. It’s a really good glow stick.”
Timon Quinsley raised an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed.
Ophelia didn’t see why. This guy was definitely old enough that he needed to find the bathroom at night.
“Hmm. As brazen as expected. And yet as carefree as you are, I wonder if that lightness of spirit is enough to carry you all the way down.”
For a moment, he clearly thought about testing just how many millimetres of a finger Ophelia needed to remain sticking onto the edge of a rooftop.
Instead, he lifted his cane away and offered his hand.
“... Fortunately for you, the city is already quite ugly enough as it is,” he said about the place he’d only just described as a balm for the eyes. “It would look poorly were you to splatter yourself upon it.”
Ophelia accepted the hand, climbing onto the rooftop as she could have at any time.
“Yeah, shortcake everywhere,” she said, plopping her ducks down. “If you thought rodents were a problem before, you’d have them rushing out of the sewers for the free buffet.”
“... Shortcake?”
Ophelia opened her pouch.
The guildmaster stared at the freshly baked contents within, all the while looking like someone seeing something new for the first time in years. A reaction Ophelia regularly inspired.
“I don’t understand,” he said simply.
“Yeah, neither do I. But I don’t make the requests. If a crazy human girl wants me to plug up the walls with shortcake, that’s what I’ll do. I think it’s something to do with keeping the gulls away from the streets, but I’m not too sure.”
Timon Quinsley’s every wrinkle showed as confusion took over.
However, instead of asking for details that Ophelia couldn’t give, he merely sent his gaze towards the horizon. Or more specifically, where the horizon would be if it wasn’t being blocked by the enormous silhouette of a dragon now flying away.
A dragon.
Even from their spot, the sounds of pandemonium could be heard on the streets below.
There were the shrieks of whistles, the tolling of bells and the cries of trolls selling anti-fire trinkets at a 5000% mark-up, each forming their own cacophony throughout the royal capital.
All except for a single corner, of course.
A pretty garden where a dragon had met with a princess and duly fled for it.
That meant the stories were true. Dragons really were the wisest of the lot.
“I’m uncertain if … ‘crazy’ is an adequate term to describe that young girl,” said the guildmaster, who Ophelia suspected was mostly here to avoid having to deal with the mess downstairs.
“Yeah. She’s actually been holding back. If I knew she knew a dragon, I wouldn’t have needed to go looking for one. I could have just asked her.”
“And why would you need a dragon, Snow Dancer?”
“Well, I needed to kill a dragon to get S-rank. But it’s fine now. I managed to climb up and down a mountain while doing household chores enough times to impress an old lady who gave it to me instead.”
Timon Quinsley raised an eyebrow.
Still, it was enough for him to nod, offering the most respect he could to one who’d stolen from him.
“So the rumours are true. You made it to S-rank. My congratulations.”
“Yeah. Except S-rank isn’t even that impressive these days. There’s only about two people I wouldn’t mind telling me how amazing I am, and both of them are a really tough crowd.”
“Indeed, it’s a curious thing, isn’t it? To reach S-rank is the height of achievement. It is to become a guiding star for all to follow. And yet when we’ve the sun in our midst, when should we ever see the night?”
Ophelia hummed in thought.
“Hmm … I’m not too sure about calling her the sun. More like the opposite actually. Like the harbinger of doom. In fact, I’m pretty sure the sun dims a little each time she laughs. But that’s amazing too.”
“The sun only exists because of her efforts. I’d caution you against suggesting anything else. My receptionists are likely to chastise you. Why, my own personally assigned Miss Juliette SS+ rank.”
“... Hm? Say that again?”
“SS+ Rank.” The guildmaster smiled. “An absurd rank, no? Such a thing has never existed before. Suffice to say, Mirabelle has little right to assign it. Yet it speaks truly of our heroine’s draw that it would be given despite the weight of bureaucracy. I have never been more proud.”
Ophelia was stunned.
All of a sudden, the certificate she kept seemed a lot lighter.
Now she’d definitely have to become a princess. There was simply no scenario she could murder enough dragons to reach SS+ rank too. Or at least not in a reasonable time frame. It took her months just to accidentally spot her first dragon.
“That’s just silly. You can’t have an SS+ Rank.”
“So my peers will feel as well. They have only just been made aware. I can only just imagine the heated discussions about how they can finally force my retirement. I only wish I could be there to hear it.”
“No, I mean that’s just unfair. On her.”
“Excuse me?”
“It would have been more fun to keep piling on S’s. Just slapping on a + sign is lazy. It ruins the sense of progression. The next time an old lady promotes me, I’m going to ask for more S’s.”
The guildmaster chuckled.
Of course, he’d probably be less amused once he was going to have to say out loud it was the SSSSSSSSS rank Snow Dancer who’d stolen from him.
“It would need to be quite the audacious old lady to give you that many. But perhaps she’ll be bored enough to humour you, seeing as how acquainted you are with my adventurer. I take it you know of Miss Juliette’s unique circumstances?”
“You mean the really obvious princess thing?”
“The really obvious princess thing, yes.”
“Yep. I found out ages ago. And not because I overheard. You know, it’s actually amazing how more people don’t know. She looks like a princess, sounds like a princess and smells like a princess. And she does the laugh.”
“The Contzens have been a staple throughout the history of this kingdom. But such longevity has given rise to a certain … aloofness. While the current princes and princesses are better at endearing themselves to the people compared to their predecessors, it will take time for any shopkeeper or farmer to imagine one willing to brave the mud as an adventurer. But perhaps that will change. Princess Juliette Contzen is the sword that illuminates the path before her, doing away with the darkness.”
Timon Quinsley paused, then turned his gaze squarely on Ophelia.
“... With that said, it never hurts to have more than one sword. You stole hers.”
Ophelia tilted her head slightly.
She didn’t remember doing that. Although she’d thought about it. Several times.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“You did. The stolen sword that I’m deeply concerned isn’t on you is the Severing Oath. The one you took from my vault. It is also her reward for reaching S-rank and was awaiting collection.”
“ … Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. You will understand, therefore, that I expect you to return it.”
Ophelia hummed.
If she’d stolen the princess’s sword, she really needed to give it back. Especially since she said she’d stop stealing from her family. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she’d even finished paying off her debts for all the other things she’d stolen that she didn’t want to mention.
Thus, she nodded, much to the guildmaster’s relief.
And then–
“Eh, I’m sure it’s okay.”
“Excuse me?”
Ophelia waved her wrist with a bright smile.
“Don’t worry. She’s used to me stealing her stuff. What’s one sword when she has so many? I know for a fact her treasury has loads she could use as a spare.”
“Perhaps so. But those swords are not the one I promised her.”
“I mean, I can pay the cost. I have lots of gemstones and stuff. That’ll do, right? I like this one. It took ages to find a sword that wasn’t terrible. You’ll be shocked at how many swords aren’t actually good at the whole stabbing thing.”
“No.”
“Okay. So what if I pay to borrow it while pretending to return it in the future? It’s not like she needs it. She has her Starlight Umbrella. And I can guarantee you she’ll want crowns more than a sword. There’s a reason her tax collectors ask for coins and not weapons. You just want her rewarded, right?”
The guildmaster was clearly not satisfied with Ophelia’s suggestion.
Even so, he was wise enough to know that Ophelia did Ophelia things.
More importantly, he also knew that the sword he definitely figured he could poach from her while she’d been dangling from the edge of a roof was currently safely stored in a shrub guarded by a hedgehog. Those things didn’t mess around.
Thus, his shoulders fell with all the weight of one who knew he should have prodded her off.
“The Severing Oath is a unique sword. It is not easily held by those who do not deserve it. With that said, it is still very much not yours … and so if you wish to pay an extortionate fee to safeguard it until the princess has need of its services, then so be it. But you shall be the one to explain.”
Ophelia clenched her fists in excitement.
She was all too happy to do that. That princess looked cute when she was annoyed.
“No problem! I can do that easily.” Ophelia smiled in lieu of the expression the guildmaster was making. “What a relief. I didn’t want to have to run away from an old guy with a cane. It feels like cheating even if you’re definitely stronger than a normal suspicious human.”
Timon Quinsley snorted. He straightened his back slightly.
“I remain sprightly, yes. And yet I doubt my strength is enough to bear the weight of the days ahead. It is a strange time. Dragons are in the sky. Princesses are adventurers. And there is you, gallivanting through my city as an agent of chaos. No offence intended.”
“None taken.”
The man paused for a moment.
He glanced towards the horizon, where the dragon’s silhouette had dwindled to a tiny blot.
All of a sudden, an air of seriousness settled over him in the way it always did before they said what they were truly here for.
“However, despite the ill winds that the wings of a dragon can bear, I suspect none is as worthy of concern as the presence of the Saint of the End. I’m told she visited my guild. I shall be frank, Snow Dancer. This is an omen I do not wish to have. Where is Lady Celisse now and what does she want?”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her. She was only here for me. Nosy mother stuff, you know? That means no declaring the end of the world just yet.”
The guildmaster let out a sigh of relief.
“Truly now? That’s … well, that’s good to know.”
“Yeah. That’s why she’s already skipped town. She’s busy planning both the forest and church ceremony since neither of us knows which one the princess will want.”
Immediately, that relief was swiped away from all memory.
“The … what ceremony?”
“The forest or church ceremony. I told her it’s a bit early, but she wants to have everything ready just in case. You know, since I’ve decided to marry the princess.”
Timon Quinsley stared.
Then, after several moments, he simply stared some more.
“Snow Dancer–”
“Look. I know what you’re going to say. Everyone says it. Actually everyone.”
“Then allow me to repeat their words. You cannot marry the princess.”
“Yeah. Because the most important thing is status. Especially now she’s SS+ Rank. I’ll need to make myself match. So I’m off to become a princess.”
And just like that, Ophelia scooped up the ducks.
Satisfied at the lack of holes needing to be plugged here, she turned her sights towards the horizon with the wind blowing at her hair. A sight that was definitely impacted by the old guy who obviously had a lot he wanted to say.
“Snow Dancer, wait a moment.”
Suddenly looking very serious, he swallowed a deep breath.
“... There are many ways to make oneself worthy of a princess. Feats of valour amongst them, for tales of righteousness transcends all titles. If you wish to impress her, then I believe that proving yourself to the kingdom is well within your means. There is certainly no lack of opportunity. I will need, I believe, as many able adventurers in the days ahead as I can. To that end, I am willing to offer a commission so that you too may rise from your already high standing and perhaps equal or surpass hers.”
Ophelia was confused.
“I thought you didn’t want to ask me to join your shady organisation?”
“Yes, but I’m now filled with a deep sense of apprehension and suspect I’m legally obligated to do all I can to prevent whatever it is you're about to do. There is no ill wind more foreboding than the feeling I now have. Especially if you attempt to somehow become a princess.”
Ophelia gave an innocent laugh, even as the worry only increased in the guildmaster’s eyes.
Then, she responded with a maiden’s smile.
“Don’t worry! I have a plan of a plan.”