It was time to discover the lay of the land.
Unfortunately, there was nobody to greet me as I stole into the quiet heart of this diminutive village. It was a small farming community, and despite its proximity to the Royal Villa, it had grown neither wealthy nor large in all the years I'd known it to exist.
Indeed, there was little reason for contact between us, as this small plot of cottages was even governed by its own mayor.
Visitors would ghost through and stay the night directly within the Royal Villa's warm guest houses, while anything traders would wish to sell to our estate could not even be considered by the farmers that lived here.
As a result, this village was less a point of interest and more a road marker that indicated the Royal Villa was but a stone's throw away. If my carriages didn't take me through it on my rare excursions, I'd never know of its existence.
I made my way through the maze of cottages while guided by the shimmering moonlight. Even then, I had to catch myself from falling over a mindlessly placed bump on the ground. The cobblestone road had faded into dirt, and more than once I found myself grateful for my lantern in the sky. There certainly were none in the windows. A far cry from the Royal Villa, where even the corridors could be seen from outside.
There was only one exception.
A building which dominated the local landscape by virtue of having two floors and brightly lit windows. Such was its size and prominence, I almost took it for the mayor's residence.
Instead, it was something far grander.
A sign dangled above a doorway.
The Singing Mule.
My jaw dropped open.
This! This was it! That fabled establishment frequented by peasants and lowborn nobles alike! That storied den from which epic tales and drunken brawls began hand-in-hand. The local hotspot of debauchery and mischief making, where crowns were gambled and maidens were forced to serve at the behest of villainous masters!
It was called .................. a pub.
I shivered, my body stricken with goosebumps even where the chilly breeze had failed to trouble me.
Here was where the gentlemen and the riff-raff converged in all the best selling adventure-romance titles of the past two years! A common establishment where bonds can be forged and rivalries tempered!
As a flush of elation ran through me, I rapidly shook my head and reminded myself of the task at hand.
This was no time for fantastical indulgence! Time was of the essence. The first thing I needed to do was gather information. Only then could I decide on my next course of action.
And then watch any bar room fights that happened to be occurring.
I pressed my fists against my chest, nodded, then strode towards the door.
Creaaaak.
The heavy door groaned on its hinges as it swung outwards. A commotion of light and noise instantly met my eyes and ears. Hoarse voices laughing over a crackling fireplace. Glasses and tankards clinking in the air. Dice drumming against a wooden table.
I stepped inside.
And all the noise vanished.
The door behind me groaned to a close, its sound like the upset belly of the beast as I wilfully stepped into its maw.
Instantly, I was made aware of all the eyes turned towards me. Most were the tired gazes of men in farming attire, their muddy, unlaced shirts the colour of their sunburnt skin. A few were from women draped in long aprons, carrying trays of laden drinks as they sauntered from one table to the next.
Yet no matter who they were, all carried the same vow of silence. And all the same unending stare.
I blinked in confusion.
This was not the reception any of the heroes or heroines of my stories received! For one thing, there was no shameful display of drunken battery to witness. No so-called brawls to entertain my curiosity.
I looked around, wondering if I'd committed a social faux pas by entering the pub unannounced. To my knowledge, free houses such as these didn't require an advance booking to attend. Perhaps this was some peasant's gala I was interrupting? Some alcoholic ritual I was not invited to?
Or maybe ...
Aha!
I realised the truth of it. And smiled.
Oh … hohoho! Naturally, why hadn't I considered this sooner? How silly of me to expect to walk into any common holding and expect to be treated as some mundane heroine. I was Juliette Contzen, fifth in line to this kingdom.
And this village was on the Royal Villa's doorstep.
Of course, every citizen would know who I was. And the ones in this village even more so. Indeed, they likely praised us every waking moment for the protection we gave and the fields we gifted. For a princess of the royal family they admired to simply wander in must have been the shock of the century.
Taking in the continued silence and the unblinking stares, I decided to fulfil the role expected of me. Whether before my father's throne or the common room of a pub, my duty to uphold the dignity of my family remained unshakable.
And that meant a proper introduction and address.
“Salutations, commoners! I am Princess Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. Do not be alarmed. I will not disturb you in your time of idleness. I seek only a willing soul to explain to me the plights that dog your steps, so that as your princess and future queen, I may raise you from your squalor and abject misery.”
I waited for the customary applause. And then the rush of hands volunteering to aid me. Outright help was a rarity in our halls, what with the politicising of even the shortest conversation. But I expected commoners to be more accommodating.
I continued waiting.
Until finally, someone lowered their tankard.
“Bwahahahahaha!”
And laughed.
“The Princess, she says! That's a new one!”
“Those guys who've lived next door since I was a kid and have never once shown their faces! Even now, I think I've only seen the tail end of one of their carriages once!”
“Oi, oi, you hear that, everyone?! The Princess has come to visit us lowly rabble!”
“Ahahaha, which one is the 3rd Princess? The one who looks down on us like trash or the one who looks down on us like insects?”
The dam broke as howling laughter snapped everyone else out of their stupor.
Yes … just in time for me to enter mine.
Ohh … hoho … ho?
What … what was this?
Did they … Did they not know who I was? Were they throwing doubt on my identity? And what was this clear tone of resentment?! Why, it was almost as though they harboured some animosity with my family! How could they? We were kind, just and righteous. To disagree was treason!
As I began methodically memorising the faces of all the collaborators in this room, a small grunt alerted me to my left. A man stood behind the bar. One of the few not to be openly laughing. And the only one not to wear a smile.
“Welcome to my humble establishment,” said the man, his voice steady and clear. “The Singing Mule. I apologise for the commotion. We rarely experience travellers stopping here. May you be on your way to the Royal Villa? If so, they have their own rooms to house those as finely dressed as yourself.”
I was stunned.
Not only because this man, this … barkeeper, who wore clothes stained with sweat, alcohol or both, spoke with an eloquence which may have barely passed at court, but also because he was insinuating I didn't look at all like who I was.
I knew I wasn't dressed in my usual long gowns. That much was on purpose. But to have such a pronounced effect that I was mistaken for a mere traveller was …
The mental damage was incredible.
“Y-You are mistaken. I'm not … well, I suppose technically, now, yes, but I'm no mere traveller. I'm—”
“Between you and me, it's not the wisest idea to introduce yourself as Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. You'll find the popularity of princesses in general to be waning around here.”
I was paralysed with shock.
The barkeeper took a moment to consider some of his patrons. Then he glanced towards the door.
“There are folks that will do more than give them a mean glare. It's a dangerous name to assume. If worst comes to worse, those who live by the wayside will come looking for you. I advise you to avoid unnecessary trouble, especially if you find yourself alone and unaided.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but my words lapsed into silence as I considered my current situation.
… Indeed, for a mere barkeeper, this man's words were curiously astute!
The nature of my escape meant I couldn't possibly disclose my real identity. At least not outside a drinking establishment where the patrons readily dismissed anything which wasn't frothy and watery as delusions.
Not only would it cause a ruckus, but I'd be inviting people as strange as that Sir Oddwell to harass me at every opportunity! How was I supposed to fix this kingdom's ills with strange men begging favours on their hands and knees all day?
In that case … there was only one thing I could do.
“Um, yes … thank you for the warning. It was a … a poor jest, of course … the princess is actually currently in her tower, tending to the … wailing cries of orphans.”
“Wailing cries of orphans?”
“Yes, she is supremely kind and charitable.”
“I see. And so who might you be, then?”
“M-Me? Why, I'm ...”
“Yes?”
“I'm … Ju ...”
“Ju … ?”
“Ju … Ju … Julie ...”
“Ah. Julie—”
“Juliette.”
The barkeeper pursed his lips. His expression became very stiff.
“Juliette,” he repeated slowly. “Your name is still Juliette?”
“Yes.”
“But not Juliette Contzen, the princess who is currently tending to the cries of orphans.”
“The wailing cries. And yes, that's correct.”
“... I see ...”
The barkeeper slowly nodded. I let out a beam of triumph.
As expected, my smokescreen of subterfuge was without flaws.
This was it! This is what I had to do.
In order to evade both the knights who would surely come looking for me, as well as the unscrupulous individuals who would seek to use up my precious time, it was required that I go incognito.
And who would suspect that Juliette, the girl who wore boots without even a single piece of ruby embroidery, was in reality a princess of the kingdom?
Until such time that I had to invoke my title, I could take advantage of the people's unwariness!
Ohhhhoho! How very masterful!
Already, my budding plan to unravel the ills of this kingdom were taking shape! As there was clearly some undeserved antagonism towards my family, perhaps a less direct route was key to resolving our collapsing finances?
Fortunately, I was well trained in the art of courtly stratagems. After all, if I could convince a duke's daughter that her pearl earrings did not at all make her look like a stablegirl just recently adopted into nobility, then I could surely convince our farmers, miners, loggers and dockworkers to up their productivity!
How hard could it be?
“Thomas! Give us common rabble a look too, won't ya? Our mugs will start growing moss before the princess even finishes her order!”
The barkeeper didn't bat an eye, immediately pouring several flagons' worth of golden liquid from two separate barrel taps. A waitress was on hand to receive them, returning to the floor to the sound of mocking cheers.
I swallowed hard, then dared ask the question on the forefront of my mind.
“Sir Barkeeper, why is my … why is House Contzen's name spoken with such clear disregard in your establishment? Did my … did the royal family cause some grievous slight? Did we … did they mistreat the simple people of this languishing village in some way?”
The barkeeper looked momentarily in pain. Perhaps he'd stubbed his toe on the counter.
“The Contzen name is that of wealth.”
I nodded, then waited for the man to continue.
He didn't.
“… Is that it?”
“No.” The barkeeper looked at me carefully. “But that conversation isn't mine to give. Nor is it any of my patrons. Those who truly suffer would not be content to laugh. We are lucky. The ones further afield are not. For a true answer, you would need to visit any of the lands beyond the Royal Villa.”
That was a highly unsatisfactory answer.
Naturally, the commoners would have their grievances. To envy was to gripe. Yet it irked me how little they knew that the responsibility of their lives weighed heavier than their sickles and their hoes.
That was a problem I needed to amend as well.
“The royal family toils to defend this kingdom,” I said, turning on the spot. “And if I must travel to each of the four corners of this realm to exhibit that, then so be it.”
My hand reached for the door.
“Wait.”
I looked past my shoulder and raised my eyebrow at the barkeeper. He studied me for a moment, even as I waited for him to continue.
“You're actually being serious, aren't you?”
Ugh, why must I reiterate myself to a commoner?
I had a very long list of problems to go through. And the less time I spent laying claim to my orchard, the more time the caterpillars had to devour everything.
“Of course. The kingdom is under siege by a great host of ridiculous problems, all of which I suspect are easily avoidable. I intend to lift them all. And at haste. I don't trust the crows eyeing my apple trees.”
“I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand what you mean by that.”
“It means they are savage brutes that eat anything which looks remotely defenceless.”
“No, I mean … regarding how you intend to lift the problems of this kingdom.”
“It means what it means.” I groaned inside as I considered how to speak the vernacular of the peasantry. “Many problems. I fix.”
“... Alone?”
“Alone.”
For the first time, the barkeeper's unmoving exterior broke.
He drummed his fingers against his countertop, his brows creasing as he assessed me like an item whose worth he couldn't quite gauge.
Then, he stopped drumming his fingers and gazed into my eyes.
“I see … then, as the barkeeper of this languishing village, allow me to offer what minor help I may."
I brightened up. Finally, some assistance to be disappointed at!
"You asked what plagues our steps. I suspect you aren't aware that your words contain more truth than you may have hoped.”
I gave him a quizzical look.
“How so?”
The barkeeper hesitated, as though a lump had suddenly appeared in his throat.
“I have an … old companion. A senior adventurer based with the guild in Rolstein. He can fill you in, should you care to travel that way. For all their resourcefulness, adventurers lack resources. If you want to help this land, then my advice would be to help the land itself.”
The meaning of his words weren't lost on me.
Rolstein. A modestly sized town in the southern lowlands. Home to ... some baron. And a primary source of grain. If there were issues to be had with crop yields, then they would bear the brunt of them.
If I was to choose a destination, then nearby Rolstein was a practical choice. There were few greater triggers for societal and economic collapse than famine.
I nodded and smiled, my mood greatly improved.
“I see! Thank you for your assistance. Farewell, Sir Barkeeper.”
I reached for the door.
“Wait, wait, wait.”
“Really now! I understand my presence here is a boon over your usual clientele, but if you have something to say, then please say it in one go. I prefer expediency and brevity in all things.”
When I turned around again, it was to the sight of the barkeeper's openly stunned expression.
“You intend to go … now? Right this moment? To Rolstein?”
“Why ever not?”
The man's expression didn't change.
“Well, you'll be needing a horse for one thing. Do you have a horse?”
I frowned. So this was my new reality. Horses, like most things, were usually only one angry finger wag away. But now I had no retainers to answer my every beck and call.
I glanced around the common room and felt my heart sink. There were vacancies, but certainly no hires among here.
“Lodge the night, make your plans and go in the morning,” said the barkeeper. “The roads are too dangerous at this hour, even this close to the Royal Villa.”
I shook my head.
For reasons that were only partly due to the idea of staying the night in a … pub, which I wasn't even sure was a lodging accommodation, the guaranteed presence of pursuing knights required me to leave at haste.
“Thank you for your concern. However, dawn will break too late for my needs. Is there a stablemaster I can approach in this village?”
The barkeeper's expression was one of clear stupefaction.
This response puzzled me. Did a village this size not possess a stables? If not, how did the residents travel to and from place to place? After a gruelling day toiling the fields and tending to barnyard animals, how did they visit the hot springs of the scenic Montvoir Valley to dip their feet? Or pass the evenings sipping on bergamot tea upon the balcony of the Royal Arc Theatre?
Was … Was it possible they didn't travel at all? But rather spend their lives fiddling with their farming tools beneath the same roofs all their lives?
No, no. Of course not. Don't be silly. Even commoners needed entertainment. I'm sure that they wouldn't possibly think that an evening in a pub counted as a pastime. This was merely a stopping point for refreshments and inexpensive revelry.
In which case … ah of course!
A stables did exist. But the horses themselves would be asleep.
Of course this barkeeper would be reluctant to have me wake every war steed in the village.
I confidently placed my hand atop my chest.
“If the stablemaster is not available, you may point me towards where their charges are kept. Rest assured that I have enough experience with horses that I can wake and saddle a destrier or courser myself, if need be.”
The barkeeper pursed his lips. Once again, he looked almost as if he was in pain. I wondered how poorly designed his counter was if he kept butting his toes against it.
“I … have a draft horse,” he said slowly, as if somehow doubting himself. “You may take him. If you run a message for me and deliver the horse safely, consider that payment for the bridle.”
I blinked.
“Payment?”
It was only then that I realised something critically important.
Clothes? Yes.
Equipment? Sword.
Belongings? None.
… Money? Zero.
Why, I'd forgotten something after all!
“Excuse me, but I'll be borrowing whatever crowns you have on hand. It doesn't need to be an excessive amount. Only enough to pay for all my living expenses.”
“H-Huh?”
The barkeeper's jaw dropped as I leaned over the counter, picked up a small wooden box filled with crowns, then stuffed it against my chest.
Indeed, my lack of experience beyond the Royal Villa's walls were telling. I'd almost made an embarrassing blunder!
“I have no crowns with me,” I explained to the extremely helpful barkeeper. “A silly error. You have my gratitude for reminding me. However was I to pay for anything?”
This was an unsanctioned expedition. Usually, any and all expenses were paid for by the stewards, who accompanied us whenever we left the Royal Villa. I was so used to having attendants pay that I forgot I needed to carry my own coins.
There was no argument here. I'd surely be expected to pay for my own affairs. As an upstanding member of royalty, I must be a paragon of society.
Indeed, I was already no stranger to this. Aside from unlimited amenities, I paid for my upkeep. Of books. I paid for my books.
And now I needed to pay for slightly more.
“This is a temporary requisition,” I said, hugging the box of crowns. “You may recover the same amount from the treasury. If the treasury is empty, then you may have to wait until such time that funds are prepared. We're in financial difficulty. At the latest, you may have the full amount back after I've sufficiently cured the kingdom's ills. Understood?”
The barkeeper responded by planting his hands over his face. A most unusual gesture. But who was I to judge the intricacies of how commoners communicate?
Still with both palms over his face, he proceeded to point to an empty table with his little pinky.
“... Sit. And don't move. I'll prepare the horse.”
“Why, thank you!”
I nodded and beamed.
And here I thought that all commoners were different shades of brigands! But this barkeeper was quite accommodating. Some of his gestures were rather eccentric, yes, but perhaps I'd misjudged them, after all?
I walked towards the empty table. As I pulled out the chair, I noticed the unusual odour seeping out from beneath the table. And then I looked down and saw the remains of the previous occupant's tankard.
Only for some reason, this liquid wasn't quite as pale as the frothy beverage I saw the pub's clientele enjoying. It was far more dark. And yellow.
And truly, that odour was …
“Ah.”
I held my hand to my mouth.
And then vowed never to enter a pub again.
It was time to discover the lay of the land.
Unfortunately, there was nobody to greet me as I stole into the quiet heart of this diminutive village. It was a small farming community, and despite its proximity to the Royal Villa, it had grown neither wealthy nor large in all the years I'd known it to exist.
Indeed, there was little reason for contact between us, as this small plot of cottages was even governed by its own mayor.
Visitors would ghost through and stay the night directly within the Royal Villa's warm guest houses, while anything traders would wish to sell to our estate could not even be considered by the farmers that lived here.
As a result, this village was less a point of interest and more a road marker that indicated the Royal Villa was but a stone's throw away. If my carriages didn't take me through it on my rare excursions, I'd never know of its existence.
I made my way through the maze of cottages while guided by the shimmering moonlight. Even then, I had to catch myself from falling over a mindlessly placed bump on the ground. The cobblestone road had faded into dirt, and more than once I found myself grateful for my lantern in the sky. There certainly were none in the windows. A far cry from the Royal Villa, where even the corridors could be seen from outside.
There was only one exception.
A building which dominated the local landscape by virtue of having two floors and brightly lit windows. Such was its size and prominence, I almost took it for the mayor's residence.
Instead, it was something far grander.
A sign dangled above a doorway.
The Singing Mule.
My jaw dropped open.
This! This was it! That fabled establishment frequented by peasants and lowborn nobles alike! That storied den from which epic tales and drunken brawls began hand-in-hand. The local hotspot of debauchery and mischief making, where crowns were gambled and maidens were forced to serve at the behest of villainous masters!
It was called .................. a pub.
I shivered, my body stricken with goosebumps even where the chilly breeze had failed to trouble me.
Here was where the gentlemen and the riff-raff converged in all the best selling adventure-romance titles of the past two years! A common establishment where bonds can be forged and rivalries tempered!
As a flush of elation ran through me, I rapidly shook my head and reminded myself of the task at hand.
This was no time for fantastical indulgence! Time was of the essence. The first thing I needed to do was gather information. Only then could I decide on my next course of action.
And then watch any bar room fights that happened to be occurring.
I pressed my fists against my chest, nodded, then strode towards the door.
Creaaaak.
The heavy door groaned on its hinges as it swung outwards. A commotion of light and noise instantly met my eyes and ears. Hoarse voices laughing over a crackling fireplace. Glasses and tankards clinking in the air. Dice drumming against a wooden table.
I stepped inside.
And all the noise vanished.
The door behind me groaned to a close, its sound like the upset belly of the beast as I wilfully stepped into its maw.
Instantly, I was made aware of all the eyes turned towards me. Most were the tired gazes of men in farming attire, their muddy, unlaced shirts the colour of their sunburnt skin. A few were from women draped in long aprons, carrying trays of laden drinks as they sauntered from one table to the next.
Yet no matter who they were, all carried the same vow of silence. And all the same unending stare.
I blinked in confusion.
This was not the reception any of the heroes or heroines of my stories received! For one thing, there was no shameful display of drunken battery to witness. No so-called brawls to entertain my curiosity.
I looked around, wondering if I'd committed a social faux pas by entering the pub unannounced. To my knowledge, free houses such as these didn't require an advance booking to attend. Perhaps this was some peasant's gala I was interrupting? Some alcoholic ritual I was not invited to?
Or maybe ...
Aha!
I realised the truth of it. And smiled.
Oh … hohoho! Naturally, why hadn't I considered this sooner? How silly of me to expect to walk into any common holding and expect to be treated as some mundane heroine. I was Juliette Contzen, fifth in line to this kingdom.
And this village was on the Royal Villa's doorstep.
Of course, every citizen would know who I was. And the ones in this village even more so. Indeed, they likely praised us every waking moment for the protection we gave and the fields we gifted. For a princess of the royal family they admired to simply wander in must have been the shock of the century.
Taking in the continued silence and the unblinking stares, I decided to fulfil the role expected of me. Whether before my father's throne or the common room of a pub, my duty to uphold the dignity of my family remained unshakable.
And that meant a proper introduction and address.
“Salutations, commoners! I am Princess Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. Do not be alarmed. I will not disturb you in your time of idleness. I seek only a willing soul to explain to me the plights that dog your steps, so that as your princess and future queen, I may raise you from your squalor and abject misery.”
I waited for the customary applause. And then the rush of hands volunteering to aid me. Outright help was a rarity in our halls, what with the politicising of even the shortest conversation. But I expected commoners to be more accommodating.
I continued waiting.
Until finally, someone lowered their tankard.
“Bwahahahahaha!”
And laughed.
“The Princess, she says! That's a new one!”
“Those guys who've lived next door since I was a kid and have never once shown their faces! Even now, I think I've only seen the tail end of one of their carriages once!”
“Oi, oi, you hear that, everyone?! The Princess has come to visit us lowly rabble!”
“Ahahaha, which one is the 3rd Princess? The one who looks down on us like trash or the one who looks down on us like insects?”
The dam broke as howling laughter snapped everyone else out of their stupor.
Yes … just in time for me to enter mine.
Ohh … hoho … ho?
What … what was this?
Did they … Did they not know who I was? Were they throwing doubt on my identity? And what was this clear tone of resentment?! Why, it was almost as though they harboured some animosity with my family! How could they? We were kind, just and righteous. To disagree was treason!
As I began methodically memorising the faces of all the collaborators in this room, a small grunt alerted me to my left. A man stood behind the bar. One of the few not to be openly laughing. And the only one not to wear a smile.
“Welcome to my humble establishment,” said the man, his voice steady and clear. “The Singing Mule. I apologise for the commotion. We rarely experience travellers stopping here. May you be on your way to the Royal Villa? If so, they have their own rooms to house those as finely dressed as yourself.”
I was stunned.
Not only because this man, this … barkeeper, who wore clothes stained with sweat, alcohol or both, spoke with an eloquence which may have barely passed at court, but also because he was insinuating I didn't look at all like who I was.
I knew I wasn't dressed in my usual long gowns. That much was on purpose. But to have such a pronounced effect that I was mistaken for a mere traveller was …
The mental damage was incredible.
“Y-You are mistaken. I'm not … well, I suppose technically, now, yes, but I'm no mere traveller. I'm—”
“Between you and me, it's not the wisest idea to introduce yourself as Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. You'll find the popularity of princesses in general to be waning around here.”
I was paralysed with shock.
The barkeeper took a moment to consider some of his patrons. Then he glanced towards the door.
“There are folks that will do more than give them a mean glare. It's a dangerous name to assume. If worst comes to worse, those who live by the wayside will come looking for you. I advise you to avoid unnecessary trouble, especially if you find yourself alone and unaided.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but my words lapsed into silence as I considered my current situation.
… Indeed, for a mere barkeeper, this man's words were curiously astute!
The nature of my escape meant I couldn't possibly disclose my real identity. At least not outside a drinking establishment where the patrons readily dismissed anything which wasn't frothy and watery as delusions.
Not only would it cause a ruckus, but I'd be inviting people as strange as that Sir Oddwell to harass me at every opportunity! How was I supposed to fix this kingdom's ills with strange men begging favours on their hands and knees all day?
In that case … there was only one thing I could do.
“Um, yes … thank you for the warning. It was a … a poor jest, of course … the princess is actually currently in her tower, tending to the … wailing cries of orphans.”
“Wailing cries of orphans?”
“Yes, she is supremely kind and charitable.”
“I see. And so who might you be, then?”
“M-Me? Why, I'm ...”
“Yes?”
“I'm … Ju ...”
“Ju … ?”
“Ju … Ju … Julie ...”
“Ah. Julie—”
“Juliette.”
The barkeeper pursed his lips. His expression became very stiff.
“Juliette,” he repeated slowly. “Your name is still Juliette?”
“Yes.”
“But not Juliette Contzen, the princess who is currently tending to the cries of orphans.”
“The wailing cries. And yes, that's correct.”
“... I see ...”
The barkeeper slowly nodded. I let out a beam of triumph.
As expected, my smokescreen of subterfuge was without flaws.
This was it! This is what I had to do.
In order to evade both the knights who would surely come looking for me, as well as the unscrupulous individuals who would seek to use up my precious time, it was required that I go incognito.
And who would suspect that Juliette, the girl who wore boots without even a single piece of ruby embroidery, was in reality a princess of the kingdom?
Until such time that I had to invoke my title, I could take advantage of the people's unwariness!
Ohhhhoho! How very masterful!
Already, my budding plan to unravel the ills of this kingdom were taking shape! As there was clearly some undeserved antagonism towards my family, perhaps a less direct route was key to resolving our collapsing finances?
Fortunately, I was well trained in the art of courtly stratagems. After all, if I could convince a duke's daughter that her pearl earrings did not at all make her look like a stablegirl just recently adopted into nobility, then I could surely convince our farmers, miners, loggers and dockworkers to up their productivity!
How hard could it be?
“Thomas! Give us common rabble a look too, won't ya? Our mugs will start growing moss before the princess even finishes her order!”
The barkeeper didn't bat an eye, immediately pouring several flagons' worth of golden liquid from two separate barrel taps. A waitress was on hand to receive them, returning to the floor to the sound of mocking cheers.
I swallowed hard, then dared ask the question on the forefront of my mind.
“Sir Barkeeper, why is my … why is House Contzen's name spoken with such clear disregard in your establishment? Did my … did the royal family cause some grievous slight? Did we … did they mistreat the simple people of this languishing village in some way?”
The barkeeper looked momentarily in pain. Perhaps he'd stubbed his toe on the counter.
“The Contzen name is that of wealth.”
I nodded, then waited for the man to continue.
He didn't.
“… Is that it?”
“No.” The barkeeper looked at me carefully. “But that conversation isn't mine to give. Nor is it any of my patrons. Those who truly suffer would not be content to laugh. We are lucky. The ones further afield are not. For a true answer, you would need to visit any of the lands beyond the Royal Villa.”
That was a highly unsatisfactory answer.
Naturally, the commoners would have their grievances. To envy was to gripe. Yet it irked me how little they knew that the responsibility of their lives weighed heavier than their sickles and their hoes.
That was a problem I needed to amend as well.
“The royal family toils to defend this kingdom,” I said, turning on the spot. “And if I must travel to each of the four corners of this realm to exhibit that, then so be it.”
My hand reached for the door.
“Wait.”
I looked past my shoulder and raised my eyebrow at the barkeeper. He studied me for a moment, even as I waited for him to continue.
“You're actually being serious, aren't you?”
Ugh, why must I reiterate myself to a commoner?
I had a very long list of problems to go through. And the less time I spent laying claim to my orchard, the more time the caterpillars had to devour everything.
“Of course. The kingdom is under siege by a great host of ridiculous problems, all of which I suspect are easily avoidable. I intend to lift them all. And at haste. I don't trust the crows eyeing my apple trees.”
“I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand what you mean by that.”
“It means they are savage brutes that eat anything which looks remotely defenceless.”
“No, I mean … regarding how you intend to lift the problems of this kingdom.”
“It means what it means.” I groaned inside as I considered how to speak the vernacular of the peasantry. “Many problems. I fix.”
“... Alone?”
“Alone.”
For the first time, the barkeeper's unmoving exterior broke.
He drummed his fingers against his countertop, his brows creasing as he assessed me like an item whose worth he couldn't quite gauge.
Then, he stopped drumming his fingers and gazed into my eyes.
“I see … then, as the barkeeper of this languishing village, allow me to offer what minor help I may."
I brightened up. Finally, some assistance to be disappointed at!
"You asked what plagues our steps. I suspect you aren't aware that your words contain more truth than you may have hoped.”
I gave him a quizzical look.
“How so?”
The barkeeper hesitated, as though a lump had suddenly appeared in his throat.
“I have an … old companion. A senior adventurer based with the guild in Rolstein. He can fill you in, should you care to travel that way. For all their resourcefulness, adventurers lack resources. If you want to help this land, then my advice would be to help the land itself.”
The meaning of his words weren't lost on me.
Rolstein. A modestly sized town in the southern lowlands. Home to ... some baron. And a primary source of grain. If there were issues to be had with crop yields, then they would bear the brunt of them.
If I was to choose a destination, then nearby Rolstein was a practical choice. There were few greater triggers for societal and economic collapse than famine.
I nodded and smiled, my mood greatly improved.
“I see! Thank you for your assistance. Farewell, Sir Barkeeper.”
I reached for the door.
“Wait, wait, wait.”
“Really now! I understand my presence here is a boon over your usual clientele, but if you have something to say, then please say it in one go. I prefer expediency and brevity in all things.”
When I turned around again, it was to the sight of the barkeeper's openly stunned expression.
“You intend to go … now? Right this moment? To Rolstein?”
“Why ever not?”
The man's expression didn't change.
“Well, you'll be needing a horse for one thing. Do you have a horse?”
I frowned. So this was my new reality. Horses, like most things, were usually only one angry finger wag away. But now I had no retainers to answer my every beck and call.
I glanced around the common room and felt my heart sink. There were vacancies, but certainly no hires among here.
“Lodge the night, make your plans and go in the morning,” said the barkeeper. “The roads are too dangerous at this hour, even this close to the Royal Villa.”
I shook my head.
For reasons that were only partly due to the idea of staying the night in a … pub, which I wasn't even sure was a lodging accommodation, the guaranteed presence of pursuing knights required me to leave at haste.
“Thank you for your concern. However, dawn will break too late for my needs. Is there a stablemaster I can approach in this village?”
The barkeeper's expression was one of clear stupefaction.
This response puzzled me. Did a village this size not possess a stables? If not, how did the residents travel to and from place to place? After a gruelling day toiling the fields and tending to barnyard animals, how did they visit the hot springs of the scenic Montvoir Valley to dip their feet? Or pass the evenings sipping on bergamot tea upon the balcony of the Royal Arc Theatre?
Was … Was it possible they didn't travel at all? But rather spend their lives fiddling with their farming tools beneath the same roofs all their lives?
No, no. Of course not. Don't be silly. Even commoners needed entertainment. I'm sure that they wouldn't possibly think that an evening in a pub counted as a pastime. This was merely a stopping point for refreshments and inexpensive revelry.
In which case … ah of course!
A stables did exist. But the horses themselves would be asleep.
Of course this barkeeper would be reluctant to have me wake every war steed in the village.
I confidently placed my hand atop my chest.
“If the stablemaster is not available, you may point me towards where their charges are kept. Rest assured that I have enough experience with horses that I can wake and saddle a destrier or courser myself, if need be.”
The barkeeper pursed his lips. Once again, he looked almost as if he was in pain. I wondered how poorly designed his counter was if he kept butting his toes against it.
“I … have a draft horse,” he said slowly, as if somehow doubting himself. “You may take him. If you run a message for me and deliver the horse safely, consider that payment for the bridle.”
I blinked.
“Payment?”
It was only then that I realised something critically important.
Clothes? Yes.
Equipment? Sword.
Belongings? None.
… Money? Zero.
Why, I'd forgotten something after all!
“Excuse me, but I'll be borrowing whatever crowns you have on hand. It doesn't need to be an excessive amount. Only enough to pay for all my living expenses.”
“H-Huh?”
The barkeeper's jaw dropped as I leaned over the counter, picked up a small wooden box filled with crowns, then stuffed it against my chest.
Indeed, my lack of experience beyond the Royal Villa's walls were telling. I'd almost made an embarrassing blunder!
“I have no crowns with me,” I explained to the extremely helpful barkeeper. “A silly error. You have my gratitude for reminding me. However was I to pay for anything?”
This was an unsanctioned expedition. Usually, any and all expenses were paid for by the stewards, who accompanied us whenever we left the Royal Villa. I was so used to having attendants pay that I forgot I needed to carry my own coins.
There was no argument here. I'd surely be expected to pay for my own affairs. As an upstanding member of royalty, I must be a paragon of society.
Indeed, I was already no stranger to this. Aside from unlimited amenities, I paid for my upkeep. Of books. I paid for my books.
And now I needed to pay for slightly more.
“This is a temporary requisition,” I said, hugging the box of crowns. “You may recover the same amount from the treasury. If the treasury is empty, then you may have to wait until such time that funds are prepared. We're in financial difficulty. At the latest, you may have the full amount back after I've sufficiently cured the kingdom's ills. Understood?”
The barkeeper responded by planting his hands over his face. A most unusual gesture. But who was I to judge the intricacies of how commoners communicate?
Still with both palms over his face, he proceeded to point to an empty table with his little pinky.
“... Sit. And don't move. I'll prepare the horse.”
“Why, thank you!”
I nodded and beamed.
And here I thought that all commoners were different shades of brigands! But this barkeeper was quite accommodating. Some of his gestures were rather eccentric, yes, but perhaps I'd misjudged them, after all?
I walked towards the empty table. As I pulled out the chair, I noticed the unusual odour seeping out from beneath the table. And then I looked down and saw the remains of the previous occupant's tankard.
Only for some reason, this liquid wasn't quite as pale as the frothy beverage I saw the pub's clientele enjoying. It was far more dark. And yellow.
And truly, that odour was …
“Ah.”
I held my hand to my mouth.
And then vowed never to enter a pub again.
