“Which … Which part of this is nearby the river?!”
I huffed in exasperation as I ducked beneath a branch.
Yet again, I was forced to meander through a muddy forest filled with overgrown vegetation like some lost child in a maze of hedgerows.
These gnarled, ankle-breaking roots slithering like cobras through mound and thicket wouldn't have dared peep over the soil in my orchard. Neither would these branches, which boasted more thorns than even the most egregious of roses.
There was something distinctly wrong about this section of woodland. My honed gardener's instinct could feel it.
At first, it'd merely been quaint. A brisk stroll through the woodlands near the bridge in search of a seashell that the trolls were adamant could be found nearby. Simply follow the stream, they said, and yet this stream wound on as endlessly as my indignation.
Only the thought that I would drive a bargain so hard that their caravan would be permanently grounded in Troll Country pushed me through the mud. Oh, how I relished the opportunity to dangle their prize before them! The Kingdom of Tirea had always suffered their peddling. And now they must suffer mine!
Ohhohohoho!!
“I'm moved,” said Coppelia, clearly unfussed by the vagrant flora as she skipped from root to root. “One day in and you're already fetching random objects. You have the undiminished spirit of a brand new F-rank adventurer.”
I stopped, batted a bundle of dipping leaves from my face, then continued trudging along the least muddy path beside the stream.
“This is for the sake of the kingdom. I do not care one whit about my … ugh, rank as an adventurer. The guild is a source of information and crowns. This is a temporary partnership overwhelmingly weighted towards my benefit.”
“Got it! So as soon as you finish wringing the Adventurer's Guild dry, you'll leave them out in the cold?”
“Rest assured, Coppelia, I shall do more than that. I will leave them flailing in the freezing waters, devoid of any shoreline to swim towards. But until then, my personal ambivalence will not come between usage of their sparse services to secure the prosperity of this kingdom.”
“Sparse services like identifying anomalies in a forest? Say, a seashell?”
“Well, I suppose, yes.”
“Oh, okay.” Coppelia's permanently cheery voice cut through the sound of me wading through endless leaves. “Because I was actually thinking if it wouldn't be prudent to first reach the capital, and then maybe learn about any woodland seashells that even trolls wouldn't want to pick up before we did it ourselves.”
I glanced behind and raised an eyebrow.
Why, that sounded like a monumental waste of time! We were already here. Why would we trek all the way to the capital, only to return with a stack of notes in our hands? Would we use them to scoop up the seashell?
“Coppelia, there is nothing anyone can tell us about a seashell that we cannot find out ourselves with a bit of due diligence. Have no fear. For whatever horrors a seashell may open up to, I have no doubt that your arms of enchanted steel will handle them.”
“... Eh?”
I smiled in triumph.
Ohhoho! That's right! Whether this mysterious seashell spewed out poison or liquid fire, I was safe so long as Coppelia did all the poking and prodding for me!
Naturally, I wasn't going to do this myself. My skin was far too flawless to be subjected to the plethora of deadly toxins that a highly suspicious seashell could emit when disturbed. But even should it pour out a burning vapour cloud that could pierce a troll's hide, I was utterly convinced that Coppelia could handle it.
She'd kicked a flaming wall, caught fire, and came out with only a few minor singes at the soles of her shoes.
Indeed, I was already convinced that this little detour would be well worth its weight in crowns. The risk was negligible. To me.
Yes, it was a flawless plan!
“I'm not picking up a random seashell.”
Except, perhaps, for my future handmaiden's continued lack of unconditional fervour.
“It'd only be for a moment,” I said, considering what I could use to bribe her. “Would you like the last crêpe?”
“I've already eaten it.”
Of course.
It didn't matter which tightly closed saddlebags the food was kept in. If it existed, it would eventually wind up in Coppelia's stomach, such was the laws of the world.
“It was tasty,” she added in a sing-song voice. “You'd think that mushy banana crêpes wouldn't be all that good. But the flavour really matures. Why, did you want it?”
I pursed my lips.
“... No. No, I didn't.”
“Great. Hey, did you want the mini apple pies also?”
“Did you eat them?”
“Mmh.”
“Then, no, I also didn't want them ...”
I pushed onwards through the foliage, my chin high as I valiantly ignored the multiple stabs of betrayal aimed at my back.
Those crêpes and mini apple pies were the definition of peasant fare. Anything which boasted the unnecessariness of a fork as its selling point was. And yet the blend of common flavours and under-ripe apples created something greater than the sum of its highly lacking parts.
Perhaps in the next soirée, I would dare to be a trailblazer. There was precedence in other nations. If I could convince the gathered dignitaries that common town crêpes were the staples of foreign rulers, then I could freely indulge in them as much as I want.
If I ordered all three of the Royal Villa's kitchens into manufacturing crêpes, then not even Coppelia and her prodigious appetite would be able to deny me!
“—Also, I'm definitely not picking up the seashell.”
“It'd only be for a moment!” I replied, offering a note of compromise in my voice as I swept around to face her. A tactic I already knew worked better on trolls than this clockwork doll. “Only for a moment! You wouldn't even have to touch it! You could just, well … kick it!”
“Nope.”
“Why not? Consider the riches! Moreover, consider the easy riches. We could do away with our financial constraints before the day is done! Those trolls will bend over backwards to accommodate my demands!”
Coppelia beamed at me, tilting her head ever so slightly.
“By any chance, have you ever sold anything before?”
“What? No, of course not. Why would I? I'm no common merchant.”
“Hmm.” She paused for a moment. “That might be a problem. You see, the trolls are lifelong traders, and are famously astute with haggling.”
“And why, I dare ask, would that be an issue?”
She shrugged.
“Trading with trolls is hard. I tried it once. Yogurt everywhere. That wasn't a good experience. Plus I have this unfounded suspicion that you might not be as well-versed regarding the price of exotic seashells as they are.”
“Oh?”
Indeed, it was quite a gap in proficiency, was it not?
The hardened, lifelong traders, who'd built their continent-spanning business empire on the backs of their mercantile skills … versus the princess who had little idea on the cost of even the most mundane of wares.
And yet, all I had for her was my smile … and my laughter.
“Heh heh heh … ohohohoho!!”
Coppelia smiled quizzically, not knowing the trap she'd fallen into.
The same as the trolls soon would!
Indeed, it was precisely because I'd never sold a thing in my life that I would be impossible to haggle with!
I was an absolute black hole of knowledge!
The best swordsman in the world did not fear the second best swordsman. They feared he who had never held a sword before in their life!
That was me!
Whatever offer they made, I would demand 1,000,000,0002 of it as my starting price! I would drive a bargain so hard that trolls would kneel before me in reverence!
They may know how to haggle with merchants, nobles and commoners … but did they know how to haggle with a princess?
“Worry not, Coppelia. Whatever adversaries they've faced down in the scope of their business dealings, none will compare to me. I intend to bleed them of every crown. And they'll be forced to accept. The trolls will not be content to leave without this prize they seek.”
“I mean, they probably will.”
I looked at Coppelia in exasperation. Had I not made my point perfectly clear? If the trolls were willing to relocate their caravan upon receiving this item, then it had to possess more worth than any crowns they could make by remaining where they were.
“Their eyes are incapable of turning away if the seashell is presented right before them. Why would you believe otherwise?”
“Because the seashell is super cursed.”
Coppelia pointed ahead. I turned around and followed the line of her fingertip.
There, at the end of where the stream cascaded over a series of moss covered slabs, was undeniably a clam-shaped seashell.
It was the prettiest sore thumb to stick out in this dreadful forest. Beige with violet hues, it sparkled where the stream rolled off its delicate shell.
And where it didn't sparkle?
Why, it hissed with a black smog.
“Which … Which part of this is nearby the river?!”
I huffed in exasperation as I ducked beneath a branch.
Yet again, I was forced to meander through a muddy forest filled with overgrown vegetation like some lost child in a maze of hedgerows.
These gnarled, ankle-breaking roots slithering like cobras through mound and thicket wouldn't have dared peep over the soil in my orchard. Neither would these branches, which boasted more thorns than even the most egregious of roses.
There was something distinctly wrong about this section of woodland. My honed gardener's instinct could feel it.
At first, it'd merely been quaint. A brisk stroll through the woodlands near the bridge in search of a seashell that the trolls were adamant could be found nearby. Simply follow the stream, they said, and yet this stream wound on as endlessly as my indignation.
Only the thought that I would drive a bargain so hard that their caravan would be permanently grounded in Troll Country pushed me through the mud. Oh, how I relished the opportunity to dangle their prize before them! The Kingdom of Tirea had always suffered their peddling. And now they must suffer mine!
Ohhohohoho!!
“I'm moved,” said Coppelia, clearly unfussed by the vagrant flora as she skipped from root to root. “One day in and you're already fetching random objects. You have the undiminished spirit of a brand new F-rank adventurer.”
I stopped, batted a bundle of dipping leaves from my face, then continued trudging along the least muddy path beside the stream.
“This is for the sake of the kingdom. I do not care one whit about my … ugh, rank as an adventurer. The guild is a source of information and crowns. This is a temporary partnership overwhelmingly weighted towards my benefit.”
“Got it! So as soon as you finish wringing the Adventurer's Guild dry, you'll leave them out in the cold?”
“Rest assured, Coppelia, I shall do more than that. I will leave them flailing in the freezing waters, devoid of any shoreline to swim towards. But until then, my personal ambivalence will not come between usage of their sparse services to secure the prosperity of this kingdom.”
“Sparse services like identifying anomalies in a forest? Say, a seashell?”
“Well, I suppose, yes.”
“Oh, okay.” Coppelia's permanently cheery voice cut through the sound of me wading through endless leaves. “Because I was actually thinking if it wouldn't be prudent to first reach the capital, and then maybe learn about any woodland seashells that even trolls wouldn't want to pick up before we did it ourselves.”
I glanced behind and raised an eyebrow.
Why, that sounded like a monumental waste of time! We were already here. Why would we trek all the way to the capital, only to return with a stack of notes in our hands? Would we use them to scoop up the seashell?
“Coppelia, there is nothing anyone can tell us about a seashell that we cannot find out ourselves with a bit of due diligence. Have no fear. For whatever horrors a seashell may open up to, I have no doubt that your arms of enchanted steel will handle them.”
“... Eh?”
I smiled in triumph.
Ohhoho! That's right! Whether this mysterious seashell spewed out poison or liquid fire, I was safe so long as Coppelia did all the poking and prodding for me!
Naturally, I wasn't going to do this myself. My skin was far too flawless to be subjected to the plethora of deadly toxins that a highly suspicious seashell could emit when disturbed. But even should it pour out a burning vapour cloud that could pierce a troll's hide, I was utterly convinced that Coppelia could handle it.
She'd kicked a flaming wall, caught fire, and came out with only a few minor singes at the soles of her shoes.
Indeed, I was already convinced that this little detour would be well worth its weight in crowns. The risk was negligible. To me.
Yes, it was a flawless plan!
“I'm not picking up a random seashell.”
Except, perhaps, for my future handmaiden's continued lack of unconditional fervour.
“It'd only be for a moment,” I said, considering what I could use to bribe her. “Would you like the last crêpe?”
“I've already eaten it.”
Of course.
It didn't matter which tightly closed saddlebags the food was kept in. If it existed, it would eventually wind up in Coppelia's stomach, such was the laws of the world.
“It was tasty,” she added in a sing-song voice. “You'd think that mushy banana crêpes wouldn't be all that good. But the flavour really matures. Why, did you want it?”
I pursed my lips.
“... No. No, I didn't.”
“Great. Hey, did you want the mini apple pies also?”
“Did you eat them?”
“Mmh.”
“Then, no, I also didn't want them ...”
I pushed onwards through the foliage, my chin high as I valiantly ignored the multiple stabs of betrayal aimed at my back.
Those crêpes and mini apple pies were the definition of peasant fare. Anything which boasted the unnecessariness of a fork as its selling point was. And yet the blend of common flavours and under-ripe apples created something greater than the sum of its highly lacking parts.
Perhaps in the next soirée, I would dare to be a trailblazer. There was precedence in other nations. If I could convince the gathered dignitaries that common town crêpes were the staples of foreign rulers, then I could freely indulge in them as much as I want.
If I ordered all three of the Royal Villa's kitchens into manufacturing crêpes, then not even Coppelia and her prodigious appetite would be able to deny me!
“—Also, I'm definitely not picking up the seashell.”
“It'd only be for a moment!” I replied, offering a note of compromise in my voice as I swept around to face her. A tactic I already knew worked better on trolls than this clockwork doll. “Only for a moment! You wouldn't even have to touch it! You could just, well … kick it!”
“Nope.”
“Why not? Consider the riches! Moreover, consider the easy riches. We could do away with our financial constraints before the day is done! Those trolls will bend over backwards to accommodate my demands!”
Coppelia beamed at me, tilting her head ever so slightly.
“By any chance, have you ever sold anything before?”
“What? No, of course not. Why would I? I'm no common merchant.”
“Hmm.” She paused for a moment. “That might be a problem. You see, the trolls are lifelong traders, and are famously astute with haggling.”
“And why, I dare ask, would that be an issue?”
She shrugged.
“Trading with trolls is hard. I tried it once. Yogurt everywhere. That wasn't a good experience. Plus I have this unfounded suspicion that you might not be as well-versed regarding the price of exotic seashells as they are.”
“Oh?”
Indeed, it was quite a gap in proficiency, was it not?
The hardened, lifelong traders, who'd built their continent-spanning business empire on the backs of their mercantile skills … versus the princess who had little idea on the cost of even the most mundane of wares.
And yet, all I had for her was my smile … and my laughter.
“Heh heh heh … ohohohoho!!”
Coppelia smiled quizzically, not knowing the trap she'd fallen into.
The same as the trolls soon would!
Indeed, it was precisely because I'd never sold a thing in my life that I would be impossible to haggle with!
I was an absolute black hole of knowledge!
The best swordsman in the world did not fear the second best swordsman. They feared he who had never held a sword before in their life!
That was me!
Whatever offer they made, I would demand 1,000,000,0002 of it as my starting price! I would drive a bargain so hard that trolls would kneel before me in reverence!
They may know how to haggle with merchants, nobles and commoners … but did they know how to haggle with a princess?
“Worry not, Coppelia. Whatever adversaries they've faced down in the scope of their business dealings, none will compare to me. I intend to bleed them of every crown. And they'll be forced to accept. The trolls will not be content to leave without this prize they seek.”
“I mean, they probably will.”
I looked at Coppelia in exasperation. Had I not made my point perfectly clear? If the trolls were willing to relocate their caravan upon receiving this item, then it had to possess more worth than any crowns they could make by remaining where they were.
“Their eyes are incapable of turning away if the seashell is presented right before them. Why would you believe otherwise?”
“Because the seashell is super cursed.”
Coppelia pointed ahead. I turned around and followed the line of her fingertip.
There, at the end of where the stream cascaded over a series of moss covered slabs, was undeniably a clam-shaped seashell.
It was the prettiest sore thumb to stick out in this dreadful forest. Beige with violet hues, it sparkled where the stream rolled off its delicate shell.
And where it didn't sparkle?
Why, it hissed with a black smog.
