A mob of gleeful faces advanced in a circle around us.
Ruffians dressed in fisherman's attire to professional guards in full armour jostled for front-row seats in this supremely unnecessary act of theatre. To my absolute chagrin, a few of the servants picked up knives and attempted to slip between the less armoured knaves.
The absolute insult. If I were to die, then I wished it to be done with conviction. Being stabbed by a servant on a whim was outrageous!
Why, these ones weren't even employed by me! They had never been forced to grovel or flee in tears once!
“Hey, hey, Juliette.”
“Yes?”
“You know how before we came here, I said there'd be lots of furniture overturning, and you said there wouldn't be?”
I sighed.
“Yes, I recall.”
“And that there'd be lots of violence, which again, you said there wouldn't be?”
“Yes, Coppelia. I remember.”
Coppelia gestured around the room, at the swathes of furniture waiting to be overturned and the knaves waiting to be … ugh, violenced.
“Can I have the table?” she asked.
“We're not overturning furniture,” I said, internally redefining what counted as furniture. “... And besides, Lady Lucina is behind that table. If we overturn any furniture, Lady Renise has the rights to it.”
“Is … Is overturning furniture our plan, Juliette?” asked Lady Renise, shuffling between myself and Coppelia. “It's not that I doubt your credentials, but this does seem like rather a lot of people to be bested by tossing chairs. In fact, there are more coming from the shadows ...”
I looked at the fretting noblewoman with my lips tightly pursed.
Then, I shook my head.
“This is too much for me to handle, even with Coppelia's aid. Grit your teeth, Lady Renise. We will not witness the dawn.”
Lady Renise's face went white. As it should.
The situation was even worse than I thought.
A significant amount of weaponry had now become an absurd amount, especially if I was going to be confiscating cutlery as weapons, too. And Lady Renise was most certainly not exempt from the physical labour that needed to be done. These were technically her hoodlums, after all.
No, she'd have to help me in lugging everything outside. I was not a pack mule, and as outlandishly strong as Coppelia was, neither was she … most of the time.
I felt my back ache just considering the logistics. But there could be no doubt that it needed to be done. A point needed to be made.
The way these hooligans were brandishing their weapons was ridiculous.
They were walking safety hazards. Weapons were paraded with gloating contempt for personal space, as everything from daggers to maces were lifted just shy of the faces of murderous friends and allies.
No, if they could not act like lowly henchmen responsibly, then I had no choice but to take their armaments away. The people they were swinging their weapons near could have been innocent peasants. And they suffered enough at my leisure without having random swords also chopping their noses off.
Suddenly, the encirclement became smaller.
“Have you come to terms with your last moments yet?” asked Lady Lucina, whose designs for power were as eye-roll worthy as Coppelia's obvious excitement. Her shrill laugh opened the floodgates for the rest of the hall to join her. A mocking guffaw that echoed without end. “If not, please take a moment to admire the décor. Despite what I said, I may very well be forced to change it.”
“Don't worry, I have this one,” said Coppelia, standing on her tip-toes as she turned to Lady Lucina. “Ahem … is it because of all our blood that's about to spill on it?”
“What? No. We're the Smugglers Guild. Of course we'd know how to clean up blood. It's because double flannel is too heavy a fabric for spring. Single silk is more elegant and flutters beautifully to even the faintest breeze.”
Coppelia turned to me.
“I feel like my memory core has just been irreparably damaged.”
“You only have yourself to blame.”
Lady Lucina Tolent reached for a glass of wine. She chose a bold red. An excellent choice. Her dress would mask some of it after I slapped it into her face. An insult only slightly less offensive than the length of time it was taking for this woman to order her thugs forward.
“I believe we've indulged enough,” she said, her eyes glinting as she raised it. “It's time for this evening's theatrics to end—again, in the case of Lady Renise.”
It was a dramatic toast to wanton murder. And a ready signal for the guillotine to drop. Death at the hands of such a ragtag horde wouldn't be so neat, of course. But I had no intention of dying until the kingdom could afford a funeral worthy of the expenses I'd demand.
“What do we do?” said Lady Renise, her eyes on the raised wine glass, and the obvious satisfaction of the one holding it. “Will you fight them, Miss Juliette?”
“Fight? Of course not. For one thing, I haven't the slightest clue how to fight.”
“... Hmm?”
Lady Renise turned to me, her face frozen in puzzlement. And … yes, that was indeed horror. My, she truly was expressive. She'd make a fine subject for my paintings.
“You don't … um, know how to fight?”
“No.”
Indeed, I hadn't the foggiest idea how to fight. I was never taught how to properly utilise the sword that was gifted to me. Perhaps my mother feared I would go gallanting across the realm if I was … like I was now.
Yet even if I was trained by every knight in the Royal Villa, none could have taught me how to fend off an attack by such a large rabble of thugs.
Which was just as well.
… Because as a princess, I considered them to be even less than that! They were the dirt beneath my boots, and all I feared from them was any earthworms that I'd catch while squishing them!
I reached for Starlight Grace.
“Stand behind me, Lady Renise. As close as you can.”
“What?! Didn't you just say … I don't—huh? Miss Coppelia? Why are poking me?!”
“Shhshhshhshh! Do as she says!”
“I don't understand! Why are we—”
“Watch! She's going to do the thing!”
“Thing?! What thing?!”
“I don't know—but it's going to be hilarious.”
Lady Lucina Tolent dropped her glass.
With all the theatrics demanded of someone with hopeless ambitions beyond their calling, she allowed her glass of wine to shatter across the table. And then her hoodlums moved in.
There were too many to count. Far too many.
I peered at the dark eyes leering at me, plastered across faces as patchy and dishevelled as rotting leaves wilting upon the ground. And what did I do with wilting leaves?
Ohhohohohohoho!!!
Why … I tidied them!
The moment I felt Lady Renise and Coppelia hugging my back, I drew Starlight Grace from its sheath.
Except this time, I didn't stop with simply holding it before me.
I carried on drawing my sword ... and swirled it around me.
“Allow me to present your eviction notice! Time falls and life renews, hear the song of season's refrain! Gardening Form, 6th Stance … [Autumn Leaf Rake]!”
In that moment—
All the parchment, the quills, the shards of broken glass, the tablecloths, the napkins and all the flowers in the hall were swept up from where they sat. And then they spun, drawn into a swirling wave of wind.
Ohohohoho!!
Here it was!
My ultimate autumn clean-up technique!
Used specifically prevent my back from aching as I cleaned up the thousands of leaves which dispersed across my orchard in the autumn months, [Autumn Leaf Rake] was developed to not only remove a food source for the critters, but to reduce the amount of time I needed to spend raking at the leaves like a farmer toiling in the fields!
And if this were my orchard, I would have stopped with that.
A single pirouette as I collected all the leaves into a bundle in the corner. It was all that was required. Any more and even the flowers were at risk of being swept from the soil.
But this was not my orchard. And these were not my flowers.
And more importantly … if I could use [Spring Breeze] for hurling mailboxes in a straight direction, then perhaps I could use something similar for removing ruffians in a wide circle!
I was a genius. And it was time to test the limits of my innovative gardening techniques!
So—
I continued my spin, swishing my sword in a complete circle as I turned fully on my heel.
The plates lifted. The cups lifted. The pots that the flowers were in lifted.
I carried on pirouetting on the spot, fighting the deep discomfort I felt as I drew on all my absolutely zero experience in what I was doing.
Swish … swish … swish … swish … swish …
Rips sounded as curtains were gripped from windows. Candleholders shot up in the air. Chairs dragged across the floor. Everywhere, rumbling sounded as furnishings collided into each other, dragged into the tidal wave of wind sweeping around the room.
Within moments, nausea threatened to overtake me as my vision blurred and my feet danced without stopping. All the while, my sword stretched outwards, its arcing light blazing even against the moonlight pouring through the windows.
Windows which cracked—and then broke.
With a deafening roar, air and broken glass rushed into the hall, joining the tornado of assorted objects spinning in a wide circle around me.
And then finally—
People lifted.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
“Oh gods, save usssssssssssss.”
“I'm gonna … I'm gonna … blurrrrrrghhhhhh ...”
“Mooommmmmyyyyyyyy …............”
Servants, common thugs, and then the armoured guards.
Some clung to the table. Some clung to each other. Some stuck their weapons into the floor and desperately anchored themselves against the swirling whirlwind which swept around the hall.
They may as well have attempted to kick the wind instead.
Mixed with the cries were tears. The leering, taunting eyes were now wide with primordial terror as they found themselves tumbling through the air like dolls cast into a raging storm. Except this storm also included tableware.
And also tables.
Grunts of pain and pathetic whimpering formed a chorus of suffering as even those in armoured plate found themselves battered by chairs, cabinets and chandeliers. Nothing was spared. Not even the portraits nailed to the wall. They were ripped out. As were the nails.
Eventually, not even the carpet remained on the ground, lifting up to wrap around and blanket everything caught in the vortex of furniture, people and pain. A cacophony of tears and vomit echoed in the hall, painting the swirling mass of bodies in the colour of everything from now until yesterday's breakfast.
And somewhere in the middle of this orchestra, was a lady whose scream belied her status as the wealthiest woman in Reitzlake.
“HIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”
She was the sole blot of red. A tangled mess of auburn hair and torn scarlet dress.
What little of her face that could be glimpsed was one of unmatched horror, as every poorly planned scheme she had spent months, years plotting was swept up in a torrent of wind and vomit.
And then—
I ceased spinning, lowering my sword with a final flourish as the entire carpeted mass was dumped as an indistinguishable heap in the middle of the floor.
For a few short moments, I admired the mountain of groaning bodies, beaten, battered, bruised and thoroughly cut among a cascade of furnishings, tableware, glass and assorted weapons. All of Reitzlake's worst were piled up, their eyes white from fainting with terror.
Then, I heard, and saw, the sight of Coppelia on the floor beside me.
She hadn't been swept up in the tornado, though.
No, the reason she was on the floor was for a much less severe reason.
“Ahahahahaha … hahahah … ahahha … ahahahahahahah … ahahahah!!”
Coppelia was lying on her side, rolling to and fro as much as the key on her back would allow. All the while, she laughed as her palm continuously slapped the floor, tears streaming out of her eyes at a greater extent than any of those who'd been swept up in the vortex.
“Ahahahahah!!! Hahahah … ahahahah …. ahahahahahah!!”
I chose to ignore her.
Instead, I smiled at the pile of stacked hoodlums, satisfied at my handiwork in securing the streets of Reitzlake.
And then I violently threw up.
A mob of gleeful faces advanced in a circle around us.
Ruffians dressed in fisherman's attire to professional guards in full armour jostled for front-row seats in this supremely unnecessary act of theatre. To my absolute chagrin, a few of the servants picked up knives and attempted to slip between the less armoured knaves.
The absolute insult. If I were to die, then I wished it to be done with conviction. Being stabbed by a servant on a whim was outrageous!
Why, these ones weren't even employed by me! They had never been forced to grovel or flee in tears once!
“Hey, hey, Juliette.”
“Yes?”
“You know how before we came here, I said there'd be lots of furniture overturning, and you said there wouldn't be?”
I sighed.
“Yes, I recall.”
“And that there'd be lots of violence, which again, you said there wouldn't be?”
“Yes, Coppelia. I remember.”
Coppelia gestured around the room, at the swathes of furniture waiting to be overturned and the knaves waiting to be … ugh, violenced.
“Can I have the table?” she asked.
“We're not overturning furniture,” I said, internally redefining what counted as furniture. “... And besides, Lady Lucina is behind that table. If we overturn any furniture, Lady Renise has the rights to it.”
“Is … Is overturning furniture our plan, Juliette?” asked Lady Renise, shuffling between myself and Coppelia. “It's not that I doubt your credentials, but this does seem like rather a lot of people to be bested by tossing chairs. In fact, there are more coming from the shadows ...”
I looked at the fretting noblewoman with my lips tightly pursed.
Then, I shook my head.
“This is too much for me to handle, even with Coppelia's aid. Grit your teeth, Lady Renise. We will not witness the dawn.”
Lady Renise's face went white. As it should.
The situation was even worse than I thought.
A significant amount of weaponry had now become an absurd amount, especially if I was going to be confiscating cutlery as weapons, too. And Lady Renise was most certainly not exempt from the physical labour that needed to be done. These were technically her hoodlums, after all.
No, she'd have to help me in lugging everything outside. I was not a pack mule, and as outlandishly strong as Coppelia was, neither was she … most of the time.
I felt my back ache just considering the logistics. But there could be no doubt that it needed to be done. A point needed to be made.
The way these hooligans were brandishing their weapons was ridiculous.
They were walking safety hazards. Weapons were paraded with gloating contempt for personal space, as everything from daggers to maces were lifted just shy of the faces of murderous friends and allies.
No, if they could not act like lowly henchmen responsibly, then I had no choice but to take their armaments away. The people they were swinging their weapons near could have been innocent peasants. And they suffered enough at my leisure without having random swords also chopping their noses off.
Suddenly, the encirclement became smaller.
“Have you come to terms with your last moments yet?” asked Lady Lucina, whose designs for power were as eye-roll worthy as Coppelia's obvious excitement. Her shrill laugh opened the floodgates for the rest of the hall to join her. A mocking guffaw that echoed without end. “If not, please take a moment to admire the décor. Despite what I said, I may very well be forced to change it.”
“Don't worry, I have this one,” said Coppelia, standing on her tip-toes as she turned to Lady Lucina. “Ahem … is it because of all our blood that's about to spill on it?”
“What? No. We're the Smugglers Guild. Of course we'd know how to clean up blood. It's because double flannel is too heavy a fabric for spring. Single silk is more elegant and flutters beautifully to even the faintest breeze.”
Coppelia turned to me.
“I feel like my memory core has just been irreparably damaged.”
“You only have yourself to blame.”
Lady Lucina Tolent reached for a glass of wine. She chose a bold red. An excellent choice. Her dress would mask some of it after I slapped it into her face. An insult only slightly less offensive than the length of time it was taking for this woman to order her thugs forward.
“I believe we've indulged enough,” she said, her eyes glinting as she raised it. “It's time for this evening's theatrics to end—again, in the case of Lady Renise.”
It was a dramatic toast to wanton murder. And a ready signal for the guillotine to drop. Death at the hands of such a ragtag horde wouldn't be so neat, of course. But I had no intention of dying until the kingdom could afford a funeral worthy of the expenses I'd demand.
“What do we do?” said Lady Renise, her eyes on the raised wine glass, and the obvious satisfaction of the one holding it. “Will you fight them, Miss Juliette?”
“Fight? Of course not. For one thing, I haven't the slightest clue how to fight.”
“... Hmm?”
Lady Renise turned to me, her face frozen in puzzlement. And … yes, that was indeed horror. My, she truly was expressive. She'd make a fine subject for my paintings.
“You don't … um, know how to fight?”
“No.”
Indeed, I hadn't the foggiest idea how to fight. I was never taught how to properly utilise the sword that was gifted to me. Perhaps my mother feared I would go gallanting across the realm if I was … like I was now.
Yet even if I was trained by every knight in the Royal Villa, none could have taught me how to fend off an attack by such a large rabble of thugs.
Which was just as well.
… Because as a princess, I considered them to be even less than that! They were the dirt beneath my boots, and all I feared from them was any earthworms that I'd catch while squishing them!
I reached for Starlight Grace.
“Stand behind me, Lady Renise. As close as you can.”
“What?! Didn't you just say … I don't—huh? Miss Coppelia? Why are poking me?!”
“Shhshhshhshh! Do as she says!”
“I don't understand! Why are we—”
“Watch! She's going to do the thing!”
“Thing?! What thing?!”
“I don't know—but it's going to be hilarious.”
Lady Lucina Tolent dropped her glass.
With all the theatrics demanded of someone with hopeless ambitions beyond their calling, she allowed her glass of wine to shatter across the table. And then her hoodlums moved in.
There were too many to count. Far too many.
I peered at the dark eyes leering at me, plastered across faces as patchy and dishevelled as rotting leaves wilting upon the ground. And what did I do with wilting leaves?
Ohhohohohohoho!!!
Why … I tidied them!
The moment I felt Lady Renise and Coppelia hugging my back, I drew Starlight Grace from its sheath.
Except this time, I didn't stop with simply holding it before me.
I carried on drawing my sword ... and swirled it around me.
“Allow me to present your eviction notice! Time falls and life renews, hear the song of season's refrain! Gardening Form, 6th Stance … [Autumn Leaf Rake]!”
In that moment—
All the parchment, the quills, the shards of broken glass, the tablecloths, the napkins and all the flowers in the hall were swept up from where they sat. And then they spun, drawn into a swirling wave of wind.
Ohohohoho!!
Here it was!
My ultimate autumn clean-up technique!
Used specifically prevent my back from aching as I cleaned up the thousands of leaves which dispersed across my orchard in the autumn months, [Autumn Leaf Rake] was developed to not only remove a food source for the critters, but to reduce the amount of time I needed to spend raking at the leaves like a farmer toiling in the fields!
And if this were my orchard, I would have stopped with that.
A single pirouette as I collected all the leaves into a bundle in the corner. It was all that was required. Any more and even the flowers were at risk of being swept from the soil.
But this was not my orchard. And these were not my flowers.
And more importantly … if I could use [Spring Breeze] for hurling mailboxes in a straight direction, then perhaps I could use something similar for removing ruffians in a wide circle!
I was a genius. And it was time to test the limits of my innovative gardening techniques!
So—
I continued my spin, swishing my sword in a complete circle as I turned fully on my heel.
The plates lifted. The cups lifted. The pots that the flowers were in lifted.
I carried on pirouetting on the spot, fighting the deep discomfort I felt as I drew on all my absolutely zero experience in what I was doing.
Swish … swish … swish … swish … swish …
Rips sounded as curtains were gripped from windows. Candleholders shot up in the air. Chairs dragged across the floor. Everywhere, rumbling sounded as furnishings collided into each other, dragged into the tidal wave of wind sweeping around the room.
Within moments, nausea threatened to overtake me as my vision blurred and my feet danced without stopping. All the while, my sword stretched outwards, its arcing light blazing even against the moonlight pouring through the windows.
Windows which cracked—and then broke.
With a deafening roar, air and broken glass rushed into the hall, joining the tornado of assorted objects spinning in a wide circle around me.
And then finally—
People lifted.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
“Oh gods, save usssssssssssss.”
“I'm gonna … I'm gonna … blurrrrrrghhhhhh ...”
“Mooommmmmyyyyyyyy …............”
Servants, common thugs, and then the armoured guards.
Some clung to the table. Some clung to each other. Some stuck their weapons into the floor and desperately anchored themselves against the swirling whirlwind which swept around the hall.
They may as well have attempted to kick the wind instead.
Mixed with the cries were tears. The leering, taunting eyes were now wide with primordial terror as they found themselves tumbling through the air like dolls cast into a raging storm. Except this storm also included tableware.
And also tables.
Grunts of pain and pathetic whimpering formed a chorus of suffering as even those in armoured plate found themselves battered by chairs, cabinets and chandeliers. Nothing was spared. Not even the portraits nailed to the wall. They were ripped out. As were the nails.
Eventually, not even the carpet remained on the ground, lifting up to wrap around and blanket everything caught in the vortex of furniture, people and pain. A cacophony of tears and vomit echoed in the hall, painting the swirling mass of bodies in the colour of everything from now until yesterday's breakfast.
And somewhere in the middle of this orchestra, was a lady whose scream belied her status as the wealthiest woman in Reitzlake.
“HIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”
She was the sole blot of red. A tangled mess of auburn hair and torn scarlet dress.
What little of her face that could be glimpsed was one of unmatched horror, as every poorly planned scheme she had spent months, years plotting was swept up in a torrent of wind and vomit.
And then—
I ceased spinning, lowering my sword with a final flourish as the entire carpeted mass was dumped as an indistinguishable heap in the middle of the floor.
For a few short moments, I admired the mountain of groaning bodies, beaten, battered, bruised and thoroughly cut among a cascade of furnishings, tableware, glass and assorted weapons. All of Reitzlake's worst were piled up, their eyes white from fainting with terror.
Then, I heard, and saw, the sight of Coppelia on the floor beside me.
She hadn't been swept up in the tornado, though.
No, the reason she was on the floor was for a much less severe reason.
“Ahahahahaha … hahahah … ahahha … ahahahahahahah … ahahahah!!”
Coppelia was lying on her side, rolling to and fro as much as the key on her back would allow. All the while, she laughed as her palm continuously slapped the floor, tears streaming out of her eyes at a greater extent than any of those who'd been swept up in the vortex.
“Ahahahahah!!! Hahahah … ahahahah …. ahahahahahah!!”
I chose to ignore her.
Instead, I smiled at the pile of stacked hoodlums, satisfied at my handiwork in securing the streets of Reitzlake.
And then I violently threw up.
