The dirt road flattened as we neared the outer domain of the royal capital of Reitzlake, as though each bump and hole was either crushed or filled by the prodigious amounts of people and trade that used these well taken routes.
However, even if we were approaching the outer limits of Reitzlake's taxable jurisdiction, it would still be another full day before we reached the city proper.
A tragedy.
Every moment I spent not seeing to single-handedly fixing everybody's issues was another moment where some bumbling aristocrat or drunken peasant would actively sabotage themselves to make my task harder.
The good news is that while time was a luxury resource, it was one which I would indulge in whenever given the opportunity. As Apple was no less inclined to up his pace on a smooth road compared to a rugged one, that meant time to be thoroughly satisfied at my first time performance as a shrewd mercantile spirit.
Ohohhoho!
Yes, true, the trolls didn't quite kowtow themselves to me. And there weren't enough tears. In fact, there were none …
But I didn't need to be disappointed by how unfazed they were!
The famed denizens of Troll Country had found themselves on the peasant end of a poor bargain! Even now, they must be scratching their armoured heads. Little did they know that it was not a merchant they contended with, but a princess!
Yes. I was thoroughly satisfied.
Even as I stared down at a tiny little pouch, barely enough to fit a melted candlestick, I was completely satisfied. There wasn't a hint of regret, unease or misgiving in the fact that I'd somehow been convinced to take a pouch in lieu of 500 hard bargained gold crowns.
Why, this is exactly what I wanted for this journey! A pouch. I had lots of things to put in pouches. Things like … things. They were incredibly useful, practical items, especially for journeying on the road. I was absolutely not having second thoughts about my purchase. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.
“Juliette?”
“—Hiee?! E-Excuse me! I was deep in my deliberations! Please refrain from disturbing me while I chart a course through the maze of futures I've predicted in my mind!”
Walking beside me, my faithful future handmaiden broke into a slightly treasonous look of amusement as she waved her hand.
“My bad. You weren't answering, so I got a little concerned.”
“Yes, well, I … I have quite a lot to think about! Regardless, you have my apologies. I should always be recipient to the worldly concerns of my future handmaidens. What troubling matter languishes in your mind?”
“Your face.”
“My face?!”
“Specifically, why it looks like you just swallowed a lemon.”
I immediately touched my cheeks, then tried fixing whatever unseemly expression I was concocting.
While Coppelia's wording lacked grace, I didn't fault her for bringing this to my attention. Nothing in the world mattered more than my presentation. The dignity of my family rested solely on how I managed my face first, and how I managed the affairs of state second.
“I was thinking about the pouch we'd acquired.”
“Is this before, after, or while navigating the maze of infinite possibilities in your mind?”
“During. I'm still not finished.”
“Got it. Let me know when you are. I'd like to know the winning raffle number to a lovely walnut bookshelf back in my hometown.”
“That's, well, no, that's not a future I'm able to discern ...”
“Really? That's a shame. To be honest, I would have been happy with the cedar one, too. Is that one possible?”
“My powers of foresight stretch to the politicking of nations and the dark hearts of our enemies, Coppelia. It cannot be wasted on foretelling games of chance. Also, neither walnut nor cedar are in fashion. Varnished blackwood from the Duchy of Rouxiants is the furnishing material in vogue at present.”
“How much would a bookcase like that cost?”
“More crowns than could fit in this, I suspect.”
I lifted up the pouch, then unstrung the opening.
Only a few apples peeked back at me as I squeezed the almost weightless pouch.
It seemed like a prudent idea at the time. Of all the trinkets and jewels priced 500 gold crowns or less … and there were very few, only a dedicated apple bag seemed useful for my needs.
Specifically, it was a bottomless pouch.
Despite what the name implied, it wasn't actually bottomless. It could hold a considerable amount, but its main draw was that whatever could fit in wouldn't weigh a thing.
As a result, it would stop the constant tumbling noise of apples chafing against the saddle. And possibly, just possibly, lighten Apple's load enough that he could trot faster.
Apple, as it turned out, was remarkably resistant to changing his trotting speed.
“I wouldn't be so sure,” said Coppelia, gazing between me and the bottomless pouch I held in my hands. “It's not just apples you can fit in it. It's oranges, too. Maybe. If they're super small.”
I frowned, now truly assessing the worth of this enchanted pouch as a vital tool in maximising my convenience.
“It's very … discreet, isn't it?” I said slowly. “I was actually hoping I could put more into it …”
Such as a full-length mirror, armoire, nightstand and bed.
Sadly, while it certainly had its practical uses, it could only hold what could be squeezed inside. That meant small pieces of fruit and squished croissants.
“Where there's a will, there's a way. I'm sure you can manage to fit your adventuring treasures in a pouch smaller than your palm. Maybe not an axe or a dinner plate or whatever people find in chests these days. But definitely coins. And jewels. That's not so bad, is it? All the hotshot adventurers have one just like this. A bag of filthy lucre freshly looted from a dungeon is really heavy.”
I pushed the pouch away from me, slightly more repulsed than I was five seconds ago.
“I have no desire to emulate the foremost adventurers of our day by delving into my ancestors' catacombs. Rest assured that I'll never come across a chest of treasure in my pursuit of righting the wrongs of this kingdom.”
“You never know. F-rank adventurers need to start somewhere.”
“Please, Coppelia. I didn't sully half my name in order to seek riches in some hygiene forsaken pit. It is a testimony to my resolution of spirit that I chose to put aside my disdain for organised parasites.”
“Huh. I thought you did it because you were broke?”
I winced.
“That … That I currently have little funds on hand is not an indictment of my personal finances, but merely a reflection of the cruel hardships I share in tandem with the common people ...”
“Ah, those things.”
“Yes. It is a cruel world I inhabit.”
Coppelia tossed an apple into the air and caught it in her mouth. I neither knew how she retrieved the apple from the bag in my hand, nor how she proceeded to swallow it with more proficiency than the horse I was riding.
“Well, you now have a bottomless pouch,” she said after scarcely three chews. “As soon as you turn it into a bottomless pouch full of crowns, you can begin searching for a new, less cruel world to inhabit. I hope it has strudels. Do we have any more?”
I leaned down and tapped at the saddle containing the bakery products. A whimper of air greeted me, making me both fascinated and appalled as I realised our provisions had now almost entirely relocated from our bags and into this girl's stomach.
I'd now seen her eat, drink and sleep, although the vast majority was eating. And I wasn't certain if the gluttony was at all necessary.
“You consumed the last strudel, and devoured the last marmalade bun. We're now reduced to subpar lemon tarts and … cheese straws. A vile invention not fit to feed the most reviled of society.”
“I'll have them.”
“Of course you will.” I looked quizzically at her as she clapped her hands together. “Is it required for clockwork dolls to consume nutrients to function? I was under the impression that you were powered by a magical core.”
“Food is tasty. If I couldn't eat, I wouldn't live. So yes, it's required to function.”
“I've never met a clockwork doll who was a gourmand before.”
“You still haven't.” Coppelia peeked into one of the saddlebags. She fished out a thing of absolute travesty. A stick of toasted bread painted in dried tomato paste. I didn't know what it was called. Only that its proximity harmed my royal status. “I have terrible taste. I eat everything. Even flowers.”
“You consume flowers? Like some grazing deer?”
Coppelia shrugged, half a stick of bread in her mouth as she chewed and quickly swallowed.
“I like trying new things,” she said simply. “There are thousands of different varieties of flowers. There are only dozens of variety of game. Don't you get tired of eating the same thing?”
“If the house chefs are competent and are mathematically literate enough to measure basic ingredients, no, I do not get tired. That doesn't preclude me from enjoying variety, however.”
“In that case, you should try cooking for yourself. Then you'll experience a whole new world of flavours.” Coppelia raised her hand, then counted down with her fingers. “Why, there's charred, burned, scorched, singed and just plain soot.”
I pursed my lips.
It was unfortunate that my future handmaiden would never be permitted to grace a kitchen in order to prepare me a meal. But her ability to perform tasks typical of a personal attendant were secondary to her ability to punch my rivals through walls.
I was willing to look the other way.
“I do not cook,” I said simply. “Doing so would be a flagrant breach of my responsibilities. My time is too precious to spend on tasks which can be delegated.”
“In that case, time to start delegating to your arms.”
“Hm? Whatever do you mean?”
“If you want to survive on the road, you're going to have to learn to cook for yourself. And make a campfire. And hunt. And build a makeshift shelter. And break and chop the twigs and leafy bits needed to do all these things. You know, adventurer stuff.”
I tugged on Apple's reins. He stopped.
Wearing my most authentic smile, I turned and eyeballed Coppelia.
“Ohohoho … my dear clockwork doll. Do you believe that I'll ever stoop to vandalising the forests of this kingdom like some common vagrant in order to sleep in discomfort beside a dying fire while shivering under a blanket of leaves?”
“Yes.”
“Then you severely misunderstand the strength of my will. Rest assured that I will never, under any circumstances, resort to living out every impoverished adventurer's dream of dying to a host of nocturnal animals while asleep in the wilderness.”
“How far away is the royal capital, again?”
“Two nights.” I peered at the back of Apple's mane. “... Three nights.”
“I can hear the nocturnal animals preparing their knives and forks now.”
I waved away Coppelia's fears over my safety, appreciated though they were.
“Have no fear. Such a dire scenario shall never occur. I will march day and night through storm and hail if it means sleeping on a bed. Unless that bed is beneath a ceiling with a hole in it. Then I will march until I find a more suitable bed. A bed that will inevitably come with a dining room and a menu.”
“If I burn some tasty flowers over a campfire, I'm not sharing.”
“You may retain full possession of your ashen flowers. I will not trouble you for them. Nor, I believe, will anyone from the royal capital.”
“Flowers fell out of haute cuisine?”
“No,” I admitted as I nudged Apple to begin his steady trot again. “Honeysuckle and jasmine is used regularly for sweetness, while clovers remain popular for garnishing.”
“Got it. Which classy restaurants do you recommend we dine and dash from?”
“None.”
“... Do you have the crowns to pay?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Coppelia thought for a moment. “What other options are there?”
“That you eschew Reitzlake's restaurants altogether and instead frequent a small indistinguishable cafe with a balcony view over the main high street.”
“Gosh, that's a surprise. I didn't know you did small indistinguishable cafes.”
“I don't ... usually. But even I'm prone to flights of fancy.”
Coppelia gave me a look which evidently doubted my statement. And yet it was true.
I thought back to before Roland was made governor of the royal capital in Father's stead. To a time before Tristan was given command of the Loerstadt Gate. Before Florella learned to dance without tripping over her two left feet and Clarise … well, no, Clarise always tinkered with her toys. But she did it with all of us present.
Mostly since we hadn't learned to flee yet.
But still.
It was a warmer time, when ours was a family before it was a House. Was that day upon the balcony the last we'd all spent together in one spot, I wonder?
How quaint that I'd find even my brothers' bickering nostalgic. But if the opportunity willed it, then perhaps I'd see a glimpse of Roland's profile. And then perhaps his excessive tears as he explained to me what travesty he'd allowed to occur under his watch.
“Would you like to visit again?” asked Coppelia, with an uncharacteristically earnest smile.
“This is no time to visit cafes for entertainment.”
“I disagree. There's always time. Especially if a cafe offers a view over the main high street. How much one can discern about the restless state of the capital in just a short amount of time, I wonder?”
“Less than if I inquire directly to the ones responsible for such unrest. I do not intend to rest on my laurels, or upon a balcony. There's work to be done and knaves to be quelled.”
“And books to be recovered~ ”
I glanced at Coppelia as she began whistling. The delighted expression she wore was no different to a young girl savouring her first taste of orange tiramisu.
But while justice was undoubtedly the finest dessert, I was far from certain if she'd find it lying on any pavement in the capital.
“Coppelia, you should note that there's no guarantee that either Marina Lainsfont or the tome you seek will be found in the royal capital.”
“Oh, I have no doubt this will be productive, don't worry. A lot of furniture's going to be overturned. And that means a lot of cockroaches scuttling into the daylight.”
“E-Excuse me? I have no intention of overturning any furniture!”
“Furniture's going to be overturned. Loads of it. I can feel it.”
“We are not heading to Reitzlake, the centre of high society and civilisation in the Kingdom of Tirea, in order to overturn furniture. We're here to bring those responsible for bringing the royal capital into disrepute into my new soap making rehabilitation programme.”
Coppelia puffed out her cheeks, presumably in thought—although it could also be of hunger.
“What if the head of the hoodlums making a meal of the place is sitting on a bespoke leather armchair, swivelling around to smirk at you while smoking a cigar and stroking an overly large cat?”
“I would politely request that they attain some standards in their villainy.”
“And then?”
“Request that all illicit activities cease.”
“Ergo, furniture overturned.”
Coppelia tossed up her arms, flipping an invisible desk.
I could only wonder at what upbringing she had to make her believe that destroying furniture was an expected part of visiting new places.
But then again … Ouzelia.
I shuddered. What a strange land.
“The royal capital is a beacon of the kingdom's prosperity and strength. Its people are not so cowardly or diminished as to allow rogues to run rampant throughout its streets. Whatever has occurred, I'm certain that it's overstated. There will be no cause for furniture overturning. Or violence.”
“There's going to be so much violence. So much. It's going to be great!”
Ugh.
There was no reasoning with this girl. Clearly, she was raised in a world where thuggery dictated the streets.
I, however, held a more civilised expectation of things to come.
Besides, my brother was in Reitzlake. Foolish though he may be, he was also reliable … most of the time. Indeed, I was sure that the streets of the royal capital would be as fair as I remembered them.
I looked ahead at the widening road.
Somewhere beyond the grand horizon, a city of worldliness awaited, where even a family of royal siblings could sneak away to sip chamomile tea over an indiscreet balcony.
Yes, there were criminal elements. But they'd existed since before the first brick was even laid. Perhaps the rumours of lawlessness was itself a ploy, spun by jealous lords of smaller townships?
Really now ... how bad could it be?
The dirt road flattened as we neared the outer domain of the royal capital of Reitzlake, as though each bump and hole was either crushed or filled by the prodigious amounts of people and trade that used these well taken routes.
However, even if we were approaching the outer limits of Reitzlake's taxable jurisdiction, it would still be another full day before we reached the city proper.
A tragedy.
Every moment I spent not seeing to single-handedly fixing everybody's issues was another moment where some bumbling aristocrat or drunken peasant would actively sabotage themselves to make my task harder.
The good news is that while time was a luxury resource, it was one which I would indulge in whenever given the opportunity. As Apple was no less inclined to up his pace on a smooth road compared to a rugged one, that meant time to be thoroughly satisfied at my first time performance as a shrewd mercantile spirit.
Ohohhoho!
Yes, true, the trolls didn't quite kowtow themselves to me. And there weren't enough tears. In fact, there were none …
But I didn't need to be disappointed by how unfazed they were!
The famed denizens of Troll Country had found themselves on the peasant end of a poor bargain! Even now, they must be scratching their armoured heads. Little did they know that it was not a merchant they contended with, but a princess!
Yes. I was thoroughly satisfied.
Even as I stared down at a tiny little pouch, barely enough to fit a melted candlestick, I was completely satisfied. There wasn't a hint of regret, unease or misgiving in the fact that I'd somehow been convinced to take a pouch in lieu of 500 hard bargained gold crowns.
Why, this is exactly what I wanted for this journey! A pouch. I had lots of things to put in pouches. Things like … things. They were incredibly useful, practical items, especially for journeying on the road. I was absolutely not having second thoughts about my purchase. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.
“Juliette?”
“—Hiee?! E-Excuse me! I was deep in my deliberations! Please refrain from disturbing me while I chart a course through the maze of futures I've predicted in my mind!”
Walking beside me, my faithful future handmaiden broke into a slightly treasonous look of amusement as she waved her hand.
“My bad. You weren't answering, so I got a little concerned.”
“Yes, well, I … I have quite a lot to think about! Regardless, you have my apologies. I should always be recipient to the worldly concerns of my future handmaidens. What troubling matter languishes in your mind?”
“Your face.”
“My face?!”
“Specifically, why it looks like you just swallowed a lemon.”
I immediately touched my cheeks, then tried fixing whatever unseemly expression I was concocting.
While Coppelia's wording lacked grace, I didn't fault her for bringing this to my attention. Nothing in the world mattered more than my presentation. The dignity of my family rested solely on how I managed my face first, and how I managed the affairs of state second.
“I was thinking about the pouch we'd acquired.”
“Is this before, after, or while navigating the maze of infinite possibilities in your mind?”
“During. I'm still not finished.”
“Got it. Let me know when you are. I'd like to know the winning raffle number to a lovely walnut bookshelf back in my hometown.”
“That's, well, no, that's not a future I'm able to discern ...”
“Really? That's a shame. To be honest, I would have been happy with the cedar one, too. Is that one possible?”
“My powers of foresight stretch to the politicking of nations and the dark hearts of our enemies, Coppelia. It cannot be wasted on foretelling games of chance. Also, neither walnut nor cedar are in fashion. Varnished blackwood from the Duchy of Rouxiants is the furnishing material in vogue at present.”
“How much would a bookcase like that cost?”
“More crowns than could fit in this, I suspect.”
I lifted up the pouch, then unstrung the opening.
Only a few apples peeked back at me as I squeezed the almost weightless pouch.
It seemed like a prudent idea at the time. Of all the trinkets and jewels priced 500 gold crowns or less … and there were very few, only a dedicated apple bag seemed useful for my needs.
Specifically, it was a bottomless pouch.
Despite what the name implied, it wasn't actually bottomless. It could hold a considerable amount, but its main draw was that whatever could fit in wouldn't weigh a thing.
As a result, it would stop the constant tumbling noise of apples chafing against the saddle. And possibly, just possibly, lighten Apple's load enough that he could trot faster.
Apple, as it turned out, was remarkably resistant to changing his trotting speed.
“I wouldn't be so sure,” said Coppelia, gazing between me and the bottomless pouch I held in my hands. “It's not just apples you can fit in it. It's oranges, too. Maybe. If they're super small.”
I frowned, now truly assessing the worth of this enchanted pouch as a vital tool in maximising my convenience.
“It's very … discreet, isn't it?” I said slowly. “I was actually hoping I could put more into it …”
Such as a full-length mirror, armoire, nightstand and bed.
Sadly, while it certainly had its practical uses, it could only hold what could be squeezed inside. That meant small pieces of fruit and squished croissants.
“Where there's a will, there's a way. I'm sure you can manage to fit your adventuring treasures in a pouch smaller than your palm. Maybe not an axe or a dinner plate or whatever people find in chests these days. But definitely coins. And jewels. That's not so bad, is it? All the hotshot adventurers have one just like this. A bag of filthy lucre freshly looted from a dungeon is really heavy.”
I pushed the pouch away from me, slightly more repulsed than I was five seconds ago.
“I have no desire to emulate the foremost adventurers of our day by delving into my ancestors' catacombs. Rest assured that I'll never come across a chest of treasure in my pursuit of righting the wrongs of this kingdom.”
“You never know. F-rank adventurers need to start somewhere.”
“Please, Coppelia. I didn't sully half my name in order to seek riches in some hygiene forsaken pit. It is a testimony to my resolution of spirit that I chose to put aside my disdain for organised parasites.”
“Huh. I thought you did it because you were broke?”
I winced.
“That … That I currently have little funds on hand is not an indictment of my personal finances, but merely a reflection of the cruel hardships I share in tandem with the common people ...”
“Ah, those things.”
“Yes. It is a cruel world I inhabit.”
Coppelia tossed an apple into the air and caught it in her mouth. I neither knew how she retrieved the apple from the bag in my hand, nor how she proceeded to swallow it with more proficiency than the horse I was riding.
“Well, you now have a bottomless pouch,” she said after scarcely three chews. “As soon as you turn it into a bottomless pouch full of crowns, you can begin searching for a new, less cruel world to inhabit. I hope it has strudels. Do we have any more?”
I leaned down and tapped at the saddle containing the bakery products. A whimper of air greeted me, making me both fascinated and appalled as I realised our provisions had now almost entirely relocated from our bags and into this girl's stomach.
I'd now seen her eat, drink and sleep, although the vast majority was eating. And I wasn't certain if the gluttony was at all necessary.
“You consumed the last strudel, and devoured the last marmalade bun. We're now reduced to subpar lemon tarts and … cheese straws. A vile invention not fit to feed the most reviled of society.”
“I'll have them.”
“Of course you will.” I looked quizzically at her as she clapped her hands together. “Is it required for clockwork dolls to consume nutrients to function? I was under the impression that you were powered by a magical core.”
“Food is tasty. If I couldn't eat, I wouldn't live. So yes, it's required to function.”
“I've never met a clockwork doll who was a gourmand before.”
“You still haven't.” Coppelia peeked into one of the saddlebags. She fished out a thing of absolute travesty. A stick of toasted bread painted in dried tomato paste. I didn't know what it was called. Only that its proximity harmed my royal status. “I have terrible taste. I eat everything. Even flowers.”
“You consume flowers? Like some grazing deer?”
Coppelia shrugged, half a stick of bread in her mouth as she chewed and quickly swallowed.
“I like trying new things,” she said simply. “There are thousands of different varieties of flowers. There are only dozens of variety of game. Don't you get tired of eating the same thing?”
“If the house chefs are competent and are mathematically literate enough to measure basic ingredients, no, I do not get tired. That doesn't preclude me from enjoying variety, however.”
“In that case, you should try cooking for yourself. Then you'll experience a whole new world of flavours.” Coppelia raised her hand, then counted down with her fingers. “Why, there's charred, burned, scorched, singed and just plain soot.”
I pursed my lips.
It was unfortunate that my future handmaiden would never be permitted to grace a kitchen in order to prepare me a meal. But her ability to perform tasks typical of a personal attendant were secondary to her ability to punch my rivals through walls.
I was willing to look the other way.
“I do not cook,” I said simply. “Doing so would be a flagrant breach of my responsibilities. My time is too precious to spend on tasks which can be delegated.”
“In that case, time to start delegating to your arms.”
“Hm? Whatever do you mean?”
“If you want to survive on the road, you're going to have to learn to cook for yourself. And make a campfire. And hunt. And build a makeshift shelter. And break and chop the twigs and leafy bits needed to do all these things. You know, adventurer stuff.”
I tugged on Apple's reins. He stopped.
Wearing my most authentic smile, I turned and eyeballed Coppelia.
“Ohohoho … my dear clockwork doll. Do you believe that I'll ever stoop to vandalising the forests of this kingdom like some common vagrant in order to sleep in discomfort beside a dying fire while shivering under a blanket of leaves?”
“Yes.”
“Then you severely misunderstand the strength of my will. Rest assured that I will never, under any circumstances, resort to living out every impoverished adventurer's dream of dying to a host of nocturnal animals while asleep in the wilderness.”
“How far away is the royal capital, again?”
“Two nights.” I peered at the back of Apple's mane. “... Three nights.”
“I can hear the nocturnal animals preparing their knives and forks now.”
I waved away Coppelia's fears over my safety, appreciated though they were.
“Have no fear. Such a dire scenario shall never occur. I will march day and night through storm and hail if it means sleeping on a bed. Unless that bed is beneath a ceiling with a hole in it. Then I will march until I find a more suitable bed. A bed that will inevitably come with a dining room and a menu.”
“If I burn some tasty flowers over a campfire, I'm not sharing.”
“You may retain full possession of your ashen flowers. I will not trouble you for them. Nor, I believe, will anyone from the royal capital.”
“Flowers fell out of haute cuisine?”
“No,” I admitted as I nudged Apple to begin his steady trot again. “Honeysuckle and jasmine is used regularly for sweetness, while clovers remain popular for garnishing.”
“Got it. Which classy restaurants do you recommend we dine and dash from?”
“None.”
“... Do you have the crowns to pay?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Coppelia thought for a moment. “What other options are there?”
“That you eschew Reitzlake's restaurants altogether and instead frequent a small indistinguishable cafe with a balcony view over the main high street.”
“Gosh, that's a surprise. I didn't know you did small indistinguishable cafes.”
“I don't ... usually. But even I'm prone to flights of fancy.”
Coppelia gave me a look which evidently doubted my statement. And yet it was true.
I thought back to before Roland was made governor of the royal capital in Father's stead. To a time before Tristan was given command of the Loerstadt Gate. Before Florella learned to dance without tripping over her two left feet and Clarise … well, no, Clarise always tinkered with her toys. But she did it with all of us present.
Mostly since we hadn't learned to flee yet.
But still.
It was a warmer time, when ours was a family before it was a House. Was that day upon the balcony the last we'd all spent together in one spot, I wonder?
How quaint that I'd find even my brothers' bickering nostalgic. But if the opportunity willed it, then perhaps I'd see a glimpse of Roland's profile. And then perhaps his excessive tears as he explained to me what travesty he'd allowed to occur under his watch.
“Would you like to visit again?” asked Coppelia, with an uncharacteristically earnest smile.
“This is no time to visit cafes for entertainment.”
“I disagree. There's always time. Especially if a cafe offers a view over the main high street. How much one can discern about the restless state of the capital in just a short amount of time, I wonder?”
“Less than if I inquire directly to the ones responsible for such unrest. I do not intend to rest on my laurels, or upon a balcony. There's work to be done and knaves to be quelled.”
“And books to be recovered~ ”
I glanced at Coppelia as she began whistling. The delighted expression she wore was no different to a young girl savouring her first taste of orange tiramisu.
But while justice was undoubtedly the finest dessert, I was far from certain if she'd find it lying on any pavement in the capital.
“Coppelia, you should note that there's no guarantee that either Marina Lainsfont or the tome you seek will be found in the royal capital.”
“Oh, I have no doubt this will be productive, don't worry. A lot of furniture's going to be overturned. And that means a lot of cockroaches scuttling into the daylight.”
“E-Excuse me? I have no intention of overturning any furniture!”
“Furniture's going to be overturned. Loads of it. I can feel it.”
“We are not heading to Reitzlake, the centre of high society and civilisation in the Kingdom of Tirea, in order to overturn furniture. We're here to bring those responsible for bringing the royal capital into disrepute into my new soap making rehabilitation programme.”
Coppelia puffed out her cheeks, presumably in thought—although it could also be of hunger.
“What if the head of the hoodlums making a meal of the place is sitting on a bespoke leather armchair, swivelling around to smirk at you while smoking a cigar and stroking an overly large cat?”
“I would politely request that they attain some standards in their villainy.”
“And then?”
“Request that all illicit activities cease.”
“Ergo, furniture overturned.”
Coppelia tossed up her arms, flipping an invisible desk.
I could only wonder at what upbringing she had to make her believe that destroying furniture was an expected part of visiting new places.
But then again … Ouzelia.
I shuddered. What a strange land.
“The royal capital is a beacon of the kingdom's prosperity and strength. Its people are not so cowardly or diminished as to allow rogues to run rampant throughout its streets. Whatever has occurred, I'm certain that it's overstated. There will be no cause for furniture overturning. Or violence.”
“There's going to be so much violence. So much. It's going to be great!”
Ugh.
There was no reasoning with this girl. Clearly, she was raised in a world where thuggery dictated the streets.
I, however, held a more civilised expectation of things to come.
Besides, my brother was in Reitzlake. Foolish though he may be, he was also reliable … most of the time. Indeed, I was sure that the streets of the royal capital would be as fair as I remembered them.
I looked ahead at the widening road.
Somewhere beyond the grand horizon, a city of worldliness awaited, where even a family of royal siblings could sneak away to sip chamomile tea over an indiscreet balcony.
Yes, there were criminal elements. But they'd existed since before the first brick was even laid. Perhaps the rumours of lawlessness was itself a ploy, spun by jealous lords of smaller townships?
Really now ... how bad could it be?
