A dryad.
A wicked witch of the trees, as lethal with their magic as they were with their bodies of bark. But even their prodigious magical and physical strength paled in comparison to their most dangerous ability.
They could take the form of women with enchanting beauty.
Not as beautiful as me. But they were still sirens, cruel enchantresses and deadly assassins of the forest. Tales of their brutality were well documented. Scores of enraptured men and women, even entire villages, would fall prey before their presences were uncovered.
And here, of all places.
In Reitzlake. In the same city which represented the heart of our governance. When so much travesty was already occurring in these old streets. Now a dryad? I could scarcely believe it. No wonder that woman was advertising a 50% discount on fresh loaves and baguettes. That wasn't any ordinary sale.
Why, it was practically a closing down sale!
It wasn't just trolls who were plying their trade elsewhere. The people … the merchants were at threat of deserting the city!
Such an exodus would cripple the finances of the royal capital! Even if the merchants resumed their businesses in other provinces, it would mean a catastrophic reallocation of power to the regional nobility!
Reitzlake relied on direct taxation to fund not only the administrative functions of the kingdom, but also a significant percentage of the kingdom's royal guard. Where would the loyalties of our soldiers lie if we had to beg mere barons for crowns?
Such a scenario … must be avoided at all costs!
Criminals and now dryads. At least both could be found in the same place. Just as thieves and smugglers skulked in the shadows, dryads could only be found in places where the sun never reached. Their groves were never tendered to by the light of day, but by their own evil and the blood of its victims.
In short, I would find them in the most unholy place in the royal capital. A den of debauchery and depravity, where dignity was as fleeting as personal hygiene.
Yes! It was here …
The Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild!
“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”
“Bwahahahahaha!!”
“All hail Todrick the Backhander, E-rank adventurer!”
I held my hand to my nose as I cautiously made my way in, dodging the constant to-and-fro of barmaids slamming down drinks and the bumbling of idiots who were either very drunk or very simply adventurers.
It was … horrific.
The boisterousness. The smell. The noise. It was as though that little village pub near the Royal Villa was a holy sanctum.
Here, tables were only sat at if people were arm wrestling. Or gambling. Or arm wrestling while gambling. The hall which made up this branch of the guild was smaller than my dining room, and yet it was filled with enough people to crowd the entire villa.
Kegs and barrels lined up every wall, while a healthy fire blazed merrily in a stone pit in the centre. A giant cauldron sat perched over the flames, from which people, and not just guild employees, regularly threw things inside to cook or brew or simply boil for the sake of it.
“I smell hints of cardamom,” said Coppelia, who to my dismay was looking at the cauldron with no small amounts of interest. “And shoe. Mmh. That's definitely shoe. With the laces still on. Do you think it's on the menu?”
I dared myself to remove my hand from the better part of my face. It really did smell like cardamom. And yes, shoe. Possibly coat, too.
“I don't think they have a menu,” I replied, wrinkling my nose.
“Must be a members-only benefit. Congratulations, all the free shoe au gratin you'd like. Eat up.”
“Why do you sound envious?”
“I'm not an adventurer, so I don't qualify.”
“You're welcome to my portion.”
“You said it~”
I had. But despite that, I saw no possible system of ordering.
This was no restaurant, and even the sole barkeeper didn't appear to be recording any transactions. He simply prepared drinks as often as they were ordered. Which was always.
I was the busiest person in all the kingdom. And I'd just found the second busiest.
At least he didn't need to prepare dinner, either.
Instead, adventurers rose up to dip bowls directly into the cauldron of mystery. I looked on in both horror and fascination as they ate, drank or otherwise consumed it where they stood. I heard a burp that echoed like a dragon's roar. And then more boisterous laughter beating against my eardrums until I could no longer hear my own thoughts.
Such … Such barbarism!!
This wasn't at the level of using a dinner fork on an entrée. There was a complete void of propriety. A brutal daylight murder of etiquette. Here, the norms were as twisted as an untuned harp. I could only wince at the spectacle before me.
Wince, and not run.
Because I was also very, very technically an adventurer, by the thinnest margins of definition. And I was here for a reason. The dining behaviour of these men and women didn't concern me … much.
No, I had bigger issues! Dire threats required dire solutions. And the Adventurer's Guild gave me options.
I carefully made my way towards the reception desk, cruelly placed at the end of the hall as though dodging drunkards was a rite of passing. On my way, I spied the countless pieces of parchment pinned to the wall. Lost cats. Lost cats. More lost cats. A lost parrot. A cockatrice eating some farmer's herd and livelihood. Only one I recognised.
Danger! Dryad Sighting!
At fifthday dusk of springtide, a dryad was sighted in Penny Lane. Two shopkeepers murdered and drained by the creature was discovered in a nearby residence.
The location of the dryad's grove is unknown. If a sighting is suspected, alert the Reitzlake Guard and the Adventurer's Guild. Dryads are highly dangerous and frequently assume the form of beautiful women. Do not wander unaccompanied and be vigilant of unsolicited invitations.
D-rank++, 30gc
It was the same notice that could be found in the market district.
However, this one also had an amendment. A scribble written 'D-rank++, 30gc' was tacked to the end of the officially written ink.
I stared at it for a moment. Undoubtedly, the 30gc referred to the remuneration of the task. Not even enough for 1/8th of one of my book volumes. A pittance of a reward. 30 gold crowns would not go far when it came to funding my farm boys-to-heroes stipend. But no matter.
Shopkeepers were being preyed upon! The financial security of the capital was at stake! Even were that hat merchant to be killed, it would cause … well, no, if any more merchants other than that one were to be killed, it would be an unacceptable loss of taxable income!
Thus, I ripped the notice concerning the dryad from the wall and took it with me to the desk, planting it down while pointing at the reward.
“Greetings,” said the smiling receptionist. “Welcome to the Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild. I see you've torn the commission from the wall. Please don't do that. Other adventurers need to be able to see it as well.”
I winced as her words shoehorned me in with the other people in this hall. Still, I bore through the pain and smiled with the only semblance of pride here.
“That won't be an issue. I'll be seeing to the dryad problem. Where can I find it?”
“Miss, I need to see some identification.”
“Excuse me?”
I blinked at the request. Nobody has ever asked me for identification before!
The receptionist, still smiling, held out her palm.
“Your guild ring, if you'd please.”
Confused at this ritual, I slid off the cheap, copper ring and dropped it in the receptionist's palm. She closed it.
“[Identify].”
I was stunned as small particles of light fled from the receptionist's grip. Not because of the strength of the spell. But rather, that any was cast at all.
This receptionist was a mage.
To be able to wield magic was a rarity. So much so, that even the lowest of spellcasters could be guaranteed positions of respect so long as they at least made a spoon hover. Talent was secondary.
Coppelia giggled, her latest round of amusement directed at my surprise.
“And that's why receptionists at the Adventurer's Guild are paid better than most of the actual adventurers. They're all mages.”
“It's necessary to ensure the running of the guild,” said the receptionist, not denying her salary. “The rings are magically sealed and imbued to contain information pertinent to the wearer's guild history.”
She opened her palm and presented the ring back to me.
I took it … then slid it back on very, very slowly.
“Juliette. Your place of induction was the Rolstein branch. An F-rank adventurer. You currently have no graded commissions completed. Welcome to Reitzlake. We look forward to having you complete your first commission with us.”
“I solved the mystery of the Withering, the plague blighting the lowlands and ruining vast yields of farmland. As a result I have now averted certain famine in the kingdom. Surely, that twirly moustache man must have written something down?”
The receptionist leaned forwards, peering at the copper ring I now wore with a look of concern.
“Is that so? It should have been noted. Did you not present your ring to the reception at the Rolstein branch upon completion?”
“I only received this ring afterwards.”
“Ah, then I can only apologise. Commissions cannot be rewarded retroactively.”
I pursed my lips and said nothing.
If I said something, it would be something highly unbecoming of me. So unbecoming, in fact, that it may even lower me past the man currently drinking not from a bowl, but straight from the edge of the cauldron to a chorus of drunken cheers.
“Fine. Rest assured that I didn't save Tirea's grain stores for guild accolades.” I pointed at the dryad notice. “As I said, I'm here to see to this loose dryad. And that's only the least of things.”
“Understood.” The receptionist leaned down, then fished out a piece of parchment. She gave it a glance before planting it down beside the notice. “My sincere apologies, but the Guild Code requires that you sign a waiver absolving the Adventurer's Guild of all responsibility for your likely death before receiving information pertinent to a commission far beyond your current rank. Please sign here if you agree.”
The receptionist pushed her ink well and quill towards me.
I looked at the quill, the waiver, and finally back at the smiling receptionist.
“Why.”
“The Adventurer's Guild allows for a small amount of financial redress to be claimed by family of those killed in the process of undertaking a commission. This waiver confirms that you forgo any compensation by your loved ones.”
Again, I looked between the quill, the waiver and the receptionist.
After several long moments in which I allowed my opinion of the Adventurer's Guild to plummet by several degrees, I carefully read over the waiver, then picked up the quill.
“—I'm also required to direct you to commissions which more closely relate to your current rank and commission history. May I interest you in some lost cats which require saving?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? The city has quite the epidemic.”
I felt a vein throb in my temple.
“Cats do not require saving. They are independent animals who are able to fend for themselves. If a cat is lost, then it's because they have willingly departed for another location. It is an absolute travesty that professional adventurers somehow eke a living out of finding them.”
For the smallest moment, I could see the edges of the receptionist's lips break out into an actual genuine smile.
I wondered if it was her first of the day.
“Will you be signing the waiver?”
“I don't see why this is necessary,” I said, scribbling Coppelia's name. “Surely, every parent of an adventurer expects their child to die in a gruesome and highly avoidable way?”
“For reasons of safety and liability, we do not encourage adventurers to take up commissions beyond their rank. This waiver reminds them of the dangers involved.”
I couldn't even shape my expression sufficiently enough to convey how ridiculous I viewed that to be.
The moment adventurers stopped ploughing head first into danger, they stopped being the imbeciles they were. They had two jobs. Rescue cats and die horribly unnecessary deaths. And judging by the amount of lost cat notices on the wall, they were failing at both.
“Thank you,” said the receptionist, after I'd signed the waiver. “I'll need a moment to collect any reports I have regarding the dryad. Please be aware that this is a D++ commission. There may be considerable field variance from the information the guild has on hand.”
I waved her further warnings aside.
As in a tea party, when did things ever go according to plan? My mother insists I need only sip my lavender in quiet. Five minutes later someone's daughter is comatose on the floor.
Besides, whatever ranking they gave their commissions meant nothing to me. I didn't intend to solve my problems with thuggery. As a princess, I approached my problems with elegance, and handled them with intelligence and charisma.
Yes, even if the problem was a murderous dryad.
“Your concerns are noted. However, rest assured that I'll not be flailing my sword at this dryad. I intend to defeat it, as with any foe, with overwhelming diplomacy.”
“That's the most sinister thing you've said all day,” said Coppelia. “When can the diplomacy begin?”
“Please, Coppelia. There's nothing remotely sinister about reasoning with your opponents as to the folly of their existence.”
“You're right. And if you really want to sound less sinister, you could also say that while doing this.”
She began gleefully rubbing her hands together while smiling.
I was impressed. It wasn't a bad suggestion. She truly did make a worthy handmaiden.
“There's more,” I said to the receptionist. “I've heard that crime plagues the streets. Can you tell me where I can find the instigators for the violence, so that I can indiscriminately begin sentencing them to harsh years of soap making?”
“Oh, I can do that, yes.”
I waited.
“Do I need to sign a waiver?”
“No, that isn't necessary.”
“Is it because the dryad is a guild commission and defeating Reitzlake's historical network of organised crime isn't?”
“Yes. I regret to say that there's no payment involved in ending Reitzlake's warring factions of criminal syndicates. Would you still like me to bring you any pertinent information regarding this?”
I tightly closed my eyes.
Once I opened them again, I was calm.
“... Thank you. That would be appreciated.”
“Of course. Please wait a moment.”
The receptionist rose and entered a backroom behind her counter.
Soon, I would receive what I came for. There was no other reason for me having accepted my position as a common, low-ranked adventurer. Whether or not a commission was involved was irrelevant. That was merely a bonus. My reward would come via my continued ability to live a pampered life of luxury in the Royal Villa.
With that said—
“Coppelia.”
“Yes?”
“I feel like I'm about to do a lot of work that people should be paying a huge amount of money for, and yet I'm going to do it for free.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“That the world is deeply unfair.”
Coppelia directed her slightly pained smile away from me. She looked instead at the corner. Just the corner and nothing else.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
A dryad.
A wicked witch of the trees, as lethal with their magic as they were with their bodies of bark. But even their prodigious magical and physical strength paled in comparison to their most dangerous ability.
They could take the form of women with enchanting beauty.
Not as beautiful as me. But they were still sirens, cruel enchantresses and deadly assassins of the forest. Tales of their brutality were well documented. Scores of enraptured men and women, even entire villages, would fall prey before their presences were uncovered.
And here, of all places.
In Reitzlake. In the same city which represented the heart of our governance. When so much travesty was already occurring in these old streets. Now a dryad? I could scarcely believe it. No wonder that woman was advertising a 50% discount on fresh loaves and baguettes. That wasn't any ordinary sale.
Why, it was practically a closing down sale!
It wasn't just trolls who were plying their trade elsewhere. The people … the merchants were at threat of deserting the city!
Such an exodus would cripple the finances of the royal capital! Even if the merchants resumed their businesses in other provinces, it would mean a catastrophic reallocation of power to the regional nobility!
Reitzlake relied on direct taxation to fund not only the administrative functions of the kingdom, but also a significant percentage of the kingdom's royal guard. Where would the loyalties of our soldiers lie if we had to beg mere barons for crowns?
Such a scenario … must be avoided at all costs!
Criminals and now dryads. At least both could be found in the same place. Just as thieves and smugglers skulked in the shadows, dryads could only be found in places where the sun never reached. Their groves were never tendered to by the light of day, but by their own evil and the blood of its victims.
In short, I would find them in the most unholy place in the royal capital. A den of debauchery and depravity, where dignity was as fleeting as personal hygiene.
Yes! It was here …
The Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild!
“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”
“Bwahahahahaha!!”
“All hail Todrick the Backhander, E-rank adventurer!”
I held my hand to my nose as I cautiously made my way in, dodging the constant to-and-fro of barmaids slamming down drinks and the bumbling of idiots who were either very drunk or very simply adventurers.
It was … horrific.
The boisterousness. The smell. The noise. It was as though that little village pub near the Royal Villa was a holy sanctum.
Here, tables were only sat at if people were arm wrestling. Or gambling. Or arm wrestling while gambling. The hall which made up this branch of the guild was smaller than my dining room, and yet it was filled with enough people to crowd the entire villa.
Kegs and barrels lined up every wall, while a healthy fire blazed merrily in a stone pit in the centre. A giant cauldron sat perched over the flames, from which people, and not just guild employees, regularly threw things inside to cook or brew or simply boil for the sake of it.
“I smell hints of cardamom,” said Coppelia, who to my dismay was looking at the cauldron with no small amounts of interest. “And shoe. Mmh. That's definitely shoe. With the laces still on. Do you think it's on the menu?”
I dared myself to remove my hand from the better part of my face. It really did smell like cardamom. And yes, shoe. Possibly coat, too.
“I don't think they have a menu,” I replied, wrinkling my nose.
“Must be a members-only benefit. Congratulations, all the free shoe au gratin you'd like. Eat up.”
“Why do you sound envious?”
“I'm not an adventurer, so I don't qualify.”
“You're welcome to my portion.”
“You said it~”
I had. But despite that, I saw no possible system of ordering.
This was no restaurant, and even the sole barkeeper didn't appear to be recording any transactions. He simply prepared drinks as often as they were ordered. Which was always.
I was the busiest person in all the kingdom. And I'd just found the second busiest.
At least he didn't need to prepare dinner, either.
Instead, adventurers rose up to dip bowls directly into the cauldron of mystery. I looked on in both horror and fascination as they ate, drank or otherwise consumed it where they stood. I heard a burp that echoed like a dragon's roar. And then more boisterous laughter beating against my eardrums until I could no longer hear my own thoughts.
Such … Such barbarism!!
This wasn't at the level of using a dinner fork on an entrée. There was a complete void of propriety. A brutal daylight murder of etiquette. Here, the norms were as twisted as an untuned harp. I could only wince at the spectacle before me.
Wince, and not run.
Because I was also very, very technically an adventurer, by the thinnest margins of definition. And I was here for a reason. The dining behaviour of these men and women didn't concern me … much.
No, I had bigger issues! Dire threats required dire solutions. And the Adventurer's Guild gave me options.
I carefully made my way towards the reception desk, cruelly placed at the end of the hall as though dodging drunkards was a rite of passing. On my way, I spied the countless pieces of parchment pinned to the wall. Lost cats. Lost cats. More lost cats. A lost parrot. A cockatrice eating some farmer's herd and livelihood. Only one I recognised.
Danger! Dryad Sighting!
At fifthday dusk of springtide, a dryad was sighted in Penny Lane. Two shopkeepers murdered and drained by the creature was discovered in a nearby residence.
The location of the dryad's grove is unknown. If a sighting is suspected, alert the Reitzlake Guard and the Adventurer's Guild. Dryads are highly dangerous and frequently assume the form of beautiful women. Do not wander unaccompanied and be vigilant of unsolicited invitations.
D-rank++, 30gc
It was the same notice that could be found in the market district.
However, this one also had an amendment. A scribble written 'D-rank++, 30gc' was tacked to the end of the officially written ink.
I stared at it for a moment. Undoubtedly, the 30gc referred to the remuneration of the task. Not even enough for 1/8th of one of my book volumes. A pittance of a reward. 30 gold crowns would not go far when it came to funding my farm boys-to-heroes stipend. But no matter.
Shopkeepers were being preyed upon! The financial security of the capital was at stake! Even were that hat merchant to be killed, it would cause … well, no, if any more merchants other than that one were to be killed, it would be an unacceptable loss of taxable income!
Thus, I ripped the notice concerning the dryad from the wall and took it with me to the desk, planting it down while pointing at the reward.
“Greetings,” said the smiling receptionist. “Welcome to the Reitzlake branch of the Adventurer's Guild. I see you've torn the commission from the wall. Please don't do that. Other adventurers need to be able to see it as well.”
I winced as her words shoehorned me in with the other people in this hall. Still, I bore through the pain and smiled with the only semblance of pride here.
“That won't be an issue. I'll be seeing to the dryad problem. Where can I find it?”
“Miss, I need to see some identification.”
“Excuse me?”
I blinked at the request. Nobody has ever asked me for identification before!
The receptionist, still smiling, held out her palm.
“Your guild ring, if you'd please.”
Confused at this ritual, I slid off the cheap, copper ring and dropped it in the receptionist's palm. She closed it.
“[Identify].”
I was stunned as small particles of light fled from the receptionist's grip. Not because of the strength of the spell. But rather, that any was cast at all.
This receptionist was a mage.
To be able to wield magic was a rarity. So much so, that even the lowest of spellcasters could be guaranteed positions of respect so long as they at least made a spoon hover. Talent was secondary.
Coppelia giggled, her latest round of amusement directed at my surprise.
“And that's why receptionists at the Adventurer's Guild are paid better than most of the actual adventurers. They're all mages.”
“It's necessary to ensure the running of the guild,” said the receptionist, not denying her salary. “The rings are magically sealed and imbued to contain information pertinent to the wearer's guild history.”
She opened her palm and presented the ring back to me.
I took it … then slid it back on very, very slowly.
“Juliette. Your place of induction was the Rolstein branch. An F-rank adventurer. You currently have no graded commissions completed. Welcome to Reitzlake. We look forward to having you complete your first commission with us.”
“I solved the mystery of the Withering, the plague blighting the lowlands and ruining vast yields of farmland. As a result I have now averted certain famine in the kingdom. Surely, that twirly moustache man must have written something down?”
The receptionist leaned forwards, peering at the copper ring I now wore with a look of concern.
“Is that so? It should have been noted. Did you not present your ring to the reception at the Rolstein branch upon completion?”
“I only received this ring afterwards.”
“Ah, then I can only apologise. Commissions cannot be rewarded retroactively.”
I pursed my lips and said nothing.
If I said something, it would be something highly unbecoming of me. So unbecoming, in fact, that it may even lower me past the man currently drinking not from a bowl, but straight from the edge of the cauldron to a chorus of drunken cheers.
“Fine. Rest assured that I didn't save Tirea's grain stores for guild accolades.” I pointed at the dryad notice. “As I said, I'm here to see to this loose dryad. And that's only the least of things.”
“Understood.” The receptionist leaned down, then fished out a piece of parchment. She gave it a glance before planting it down beside the notice. “My sincere apologies, but the Guild Code requires that you sign a waiver absolving the Adventurer's Guild of all responsibility for your likely death before receiving information pertinent to a commission far beyond your current rank. Please sign here if you agree.”
The receptionist pushed her ink well and quill towards me.
I looked at the quill, the waiver, and finally back at the smiling receptionist.
“Why.”
“The Adventurer's Guild allows for a small amount of financial redress to be claimed by family of those killed in the process of undertaking a commission. This waiver confirms that you forgo any compensation by your loved ones.”
Again, I looked between the quill, the waiver and the receptionist.
After several long moments in which I allowed my opinion of the Adventurer's Guild to plummet by several degrees, I carefully read over the waiver, then picked up the quill.
“—I'm also required to direct you to commissions which more closely relate to your current rank and commission history. May I interest you in some lost cats which require saving?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? The city has quite the epidemic.”
I felt a vein throb in my temple.
“Cats do not require saving. They are independent animals who are able to fend for themselves. If a cat is lost, then it's because they have willingly departed for another location. It is an absolute travesty that professional adventurers somehow eke a living out of finding them.”
For the smallest moment, I could see the edges of the receptionist's lips break out into an actual genuine smile.
I wondered if it was her first of the day.
“Will you be signing the waiver?”
“I don't see why this is necessary,” I said, scribbling Coppelia's name. “Surely, every parent of an adventurer expects their child to die in a gruesome and highly avoidable way?”
“For reasons of safety and liability, we do not encourage adventurers to take up commissions beyond their rank. This waiver reminds them of the dangers involved.”
I couldn't even shape my expression sufficiently enough to convey how ridiculous I viewed that to be.
The moment adventurers stopped ploughing head first into danger, they stopped being the imbeciles they were. They had two jobs. Rescue cats and die horribly unnecessary deaths. And judging by the amount of lost cat notices on the wall, they were failing at both.
“Thank you,” said the receptionist, after I'd signed the waiver. “I'll need a moment to collect any reports I have regarding the dryad. Please be aware that this is a D++ commission. There may be considerable field variance from the information the guild has on hand.”
I waved her further warnings aside.
As in a tea party, when did things ever go according to plan? My mother insists I need only sip my lavender in quiet. Five minutes later someone's daughter is comatose on the floor.
Besides, whatever ranking they gave their commissions meant nothing to me. I didn't intend to solve my problems with thuggery. As a princess, I approached my problems with elegance, and handled them with intelligence and charisma.
Yes, even if the problem was a murderous dryad.
“Your concerns are noted. However, rest assured that I'll not be flailing my sword at this dryad. I intend to defeat it, as with any foe, with overwhelming diplomacy.”
“That's the most sinister thing you've said all day,” said Coppelia. “When can the diplomacy begin?”
“Please, Coppelia. There's nothing remotely sinister about reasoning with your opponents as to the folly of their existence.”
“You're right. And if you really want to sound less sinister, you could also say that while doing this.”
She began gleefully rubbing her hands together while smiling.
I was impressed. It wasn't a bad suggestion. She truly did make a worthy handmaiden.
“There's more,” I said to the receptionist. “I've heard that crime plagues the streets. Can you tell me where I can find the instigators for the violence, so that I can indiscriminately begin sentencing them to harsh years of soap making?”
“Oh, I can do that, yes.”
I waited.
“Do I need to sign a waiver?”
“No, that isn't necessary.”
“Is it because the dryad is a guild commission and defeating Reitzlake's historical network of organised crime isn't?”
“Yes. I regret to say that there's no payment involved in ending Reitzlake's warring factions of criminal syndicates. Would you still like me to bring you any pertinent information regarding this?”
I tightly closed my eyes.
Once I opened them again, I was calm.
“... Thank you. That would be appreciated.”
“Of course. Please wait a moment.”
The receptionist rose and entered a backroom behind her counter.
Soon, I would receive what I came for. There was no other reason for me having accepted my position as a common, low-ranked adventurer. Whether or not a commission was involved was irrelevant. That was merely a bonus. My reward would come via my continued ability to live a pampered life of luxury in the Royal Villa.
With that said—
“Coppelia.”
“Yes?”
“I feel like I'm about to do a lot of work that people should be paying a huge amount of money for, and yet I'm going to do it for free.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“That the world is deeply unfair.”
Coppelia directed her slightly pained smile away from me. She looked instead at the corner. Just the corner and nothing else.
“Yes. Yes it is.”
