There was truly something special about a St. Liane piano.
Why, the mere fact that time seemed to slow as the mahogany body of its immaculately designed frame fell towards me was evidence of its craftsmanship.
Of all the great artisans to ply their trade in the Kingdom of Tirea, the piano makers at the Royal St. Liane Workshop were truly among the finest.
The requirement to admire its splendour took precedence over the pressing requirement of gravity to crush my head, and so I was left to take my time as I counted the aged lines in the mahogany, admired the mirror varnish in the finishing, and ogled the delicate curve of the brass pedals, each as finely wrought as any master swordsmith's finest work.
Indeed, not even the Zelrontos of the Grand Duchy of Granholtz could compare, despite futilely raising an entire industry to dethrone the place of our kingdom's pianos on the hierarchy of the world's most esteemed classical instruments.
For all the wealth that existed east of our borders, talent was a commodity that was nurtured, not bought.
Each St. Liane was worth more than entire shops of lesser pianos combined. And for that reason, the most promising artisans made their own pilgrimages towards our kingdom, ensuring that our sales dominance in both domestic and foreign markets remained unrivalled.
A St. Liane piano was a symbol of our kingdom's craftsmanship and business acumen. A shining light even if all faltered.
And that's why—
“[Spring Breeze]!”
I refused to allow the sacrilege of its destruction to occur!
Instead of diving out of the way, I raised Starlight Grace and desperately swished, sending a puff of wind towards a piano which meant more to me than just the complex lustre of its mahogany frame.
Leaves gathered to me at once, my hair fashionably blowing as I felt the familiar sensation of wind accumulating at the tip of my sword.
A clang immediately sounded as my Mark II Prototype [Spring Breeze] struck the piano's underside, holding it in place as it hovered between my head and the treetop it'd been planted in.
“Ooooooooooh ...”
Behind me, Coppelia rightfully clapped as she took in the sight of me preserving the dignity of my kingdom's exports.
I smiled, ignoring the sudden realisation that, yes, there was indeed a piano floating over my head, and that yes, I perhaps should have dived away.
“O … Ohohohoho!” I laughed, not at all unnerved and slightly wide-eyed as I stared at the 1,000 pound instrument floating above me. “B-Behold my will to best even a piano! Why, a hundred fruit slimes have been punted away to perform this feat!”
Coppelia dipped her head beneath the shadow of the piano, peeking up at the underside.
I wished she didn't.
This was, frankly, not the most comfortable feeling.
“That's amazing! I knew your [Ball Of Doom] could, you know, do wanton destruction, but to sustain an object in the air is something else. You should join the circus … or even better, make your own circus!”
“I … well, yes, while I have no doubt that I could form a stranglehold on the entertainment industry, I already have a profession I'm quite satisfied with.”
“Being an E-ranked adventurer?”
Suddenly, the piano dropped as my arm faltered. I quickly raised it up again.
“E-Excuse me! That is not my profession!”
“That 30 gold crown dryad reward, the promotion that came with it, and the happy smile of the receptionist as she took advantage of your newly earned lucre states otherwise.”
“Coppelia, I do not deny that being swindled by the Adventurer's Guild is a profession. However, I think you'll find that I already have a profession I'm far more enamoured with. Also, could you please remove your head from—”
Coppelia ducked entirely beneath the piano. She spun around, beaming as if she'd just caused her first servant to cry.
“This. Is. So. Scary!” she said, excitement lighting up her face. “You should definitely charge for this! The amount of thrill seekers who'd want to experience this! You've got a gold mine on your hands!”
“I don't have a gold mine on my hands, Coppelia! I have a piano! Now please kindly remove yourself so that I can arrange my face into the correct expression for the abuse I'm about to deliver to the nearby troll … he's still there, yes?”
“Yup. With his eyes as big as his mouth. He's in utter shock.”
“What? Really?”
“No.” Coppelia suddenly put on an utterly apathetic face. “He looks like this.”
I rolled my eyes.
Trolls.
Here I was, lifting a piano with only the strength of my will, and all I received was the same expression I wore after I ate an improperly seasoned ratatouille.
“Still, I'm telling you,” said Coppelia, clearly eager to make piano floating a legitimate business venture. “You're leaving money on the table. Anyone other than a troll would have dinner plates for eyes right now.”
“Thank you for the advice. Now please exit before I need to explain to your workshop why you're now far more squished than when you first left.”
“Okie~”
Coppelia hopped away, though not before eyeing me for some mischief that she wisely chose to put to one side.
Thus, with considerable effort on my part, I lowered the rate of my swishing.
The piano gradually fell while leaning like a capsizing ship. I took minute steps out of its shadow. By the time I was able to admire its wheeled legs, each one spinning wildly, it was well before me and no longer above.
With a gentle thud against the long grass, the St. Liane piano was saved.
It would live to be played another day.
Especially once I was finished with the troll who sought to ruin it upon my head.
I took a moment to arrange the correct expression and posture. Brows dented, mouth open in outrage, head slightly forwards as if my nose could be used as a beak, and Starlight Grace flashing as I shook my hand with utter disregard to any person passing nearby.
Very well.
Let the outrage begin.
“What do you think you're doing?!” I said towards the troll. “You just … You just dropped a piano on me?! That's … You cannot do that!”
The troll looked down at me.
He then scratched his back.
“Apologises, madame, but I not only can, but I must. I am contractually obligated to prevent unlawful passage through this section of the garden, and have received no prior notification that visitors are expected this evening.”
I raised my arms in exasperation.
Threat of falling objects!
Why, thank you Duchy of Aquina Health and Safety Commission for making it perfectly clear that a troll was dropping musical instruments down on people's heads!
“That was attempted murder!”
“No, that was the madame ignoring the sign.”
I took a step towards the troll. The last of the sunlight disappeared as I dipped beneath his chin.
“Then why drop a piano?! Furthermore, why drop a St. Liane?! There are far inferior models constantly seeking to disgrace the floors of our stores like invasive aphids! Drop a Zelronto! Nobody with good taste cares about them! And if they do, you can drop it on them too!”
“I regret to inform the madame that I do not have ready access to a Zelronto. Furthermore, I must warn that failure to exit will result in me bringing the remainder of the ensemble down.”
The troll scratched his back.
Then, he readied not just another rope, but dozens in a single bundle, scooping them up from the grass.
I looked up and scanned the branches. Above me were the weapons of a symphony orchestra waiting to make the last sounds they'd ever perform. Amongst them, shiny piccolos and glockenspiels sat between deadly contrabasses and tubas.
I was horrified.
The absolute humiliation if I were to be defeated by a falling piccolo! I'd refuse to show up at my own funeral!
“Why do you have to drop anything?! You possess a club!”
The troll blinked at me.
“My club is very expensive,” he said simply. “These instruments are not.”
“You could use a rock!” I replied, utterly indignant that this troll could not see the comparative cost difference between an immaculately crafted musical instrument and a rock from the ground. “In what world were you taught that dropping a piano was an acceptable method of disposing intruders?!”
“Ouzelia.”
The troll scratched his back.
Just like that, all the willpower to argue died like an entire garden at the hands of a single caterpillar.
That … why, yes, that was indeed an answer I had no retort for.
How could I, when even brief exposure to that land meant permanent status as an oddball? I had nothing I could now say to this troll. No finely honed argument could move someone who hailed from that realm of eccentrics.
Which is why—
“Coppelia!”
“Mhffh?”
I swished around, puzzled by the fact that her oddly muffled voice didn't come from behind or beside me.
And then I looked up once again.
Coppelia was now sitting on a branch, much like the day I'd found her in the forest.
Swinging her legs idly, she looked the picture of mischief as she held a trumpet to her face. As her lips pressed against the mouthpiece, she eyed me with an innocent pair of eyes that almost distracted me from the hands slowly making their way to the valves.
Then, she played a tune.
“Ffffpfpoomppopffkpophhhhfhmioffa ~”
All of a sudden, a wave of clashing notes like the sound of a wounded elephant washed over me.
I was stunned.
Why, I had no idea Coppelia could use a trumpet as a weapon!
This … This was marvellous! When she served by my side at the next soirée my family hosted, I could install her as the trumpeter! Each time a member of nobility was announced and disgraced my floor with their shoes, I could roundly humiliate them with a series of musical notes as agonising to my ears as their names!
Ohohohohoho!
The poetry would be lost on nobody!
… Wait!
That wasn't why I needed Coppelia right now!
“Coppelia!” I waved at her to stop playing. “One of your brethren is here! I need you to utilise the vernacular of the insane to convince him to move aside!”
“Fffuuimnnpffhfffpmm ~”
I clapped my hands to my ears.
“Coppelia!”
“Fffpm—sorry, what were you saying?”
“This troll has admitted to being from Ouzelia! As I'm far too grounded and sensible, that excludes me from being able to engage in meaningful dialogue with him! Use your bonds of familiarity to convince him to allow us free passage past him!”
Coppelia gave me a thumbs up, then turned to the troll, her legs still swinging.
“Hey, there~ how's Ouzelia doing?”
The troll looked up, still with his hand on the ropes.
“Recently? … A few earthquakes. Blue stuff falling from the sky. The witches disappeared. Witschblume was attacked by a dragon. A New Great Evil has awoken. So all in all, good.”
“Great!”
Coppelia looked at me excitedly.
“How did I do?”
I pursed my lips, then swiftly turned to the troll, frown in hand.
“To … To be bested by my future handmaiden's verbal seduction is indeed an impressive achievement. However, be that as it may, I will not be cowered from my task. We require access to the door behind you. Step aside or face the consequences.”
“There is no door behind me, madame,” said the troll, blinking.
I looked at him in exasperation.
“You're a troll. You either guard doors or ruin economies with your merchant caravans.”
“Madame, that is a stereotype.”
I immediately peered around the troll's large frame.
Behind him, at the end of the garden path, the clear frame of a postern door to the rear of the castle could be spied, poorly disguised as part of the wall.
Why, it was the only section that was slightly cleaner than the rest.
“That is a door,” I pointed out.
The troll paused.
Then, he scratched his back.
“Yes, it is,” he admitted, as his hand slowly began to tug on the rope.
I was aghast.
If the symphony orchestra above my head dropped, then it was all over!
Why, if even a scratch disfigured the varnish on the St. Liane piano behind me, then its price would … well, no, it'd still be extremely expensive, but there was little reason to risk a finish so fine that I finally had something I could use as a mirror!
“Wait!” I said, my desperate cry halting even the troll. “Compared to a St. Liane, these instruments are a fraction of the cost and weight! Some of the cellos aren't even branded—a certain sign I can do away with them with the contempt they deserve! Attacking me would only be a wasted endeavour as I sweep everything aside!”
The troll blinked, then relinquished the bundle of ropes.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I suppose that's true. I admit, I do not look forward to putting everything back in its place. Climbing isn't my forte.”
Thus, the troll raised his club instead.
It was the size of a small tree. Except that unlike trees, it also glowed with violet symbols as ancient runes activated across its gnarled shape.
And then it burst into black flames.
Yes.
This was indeed a lot better.
There was truly something special about a St. Liane piano.
Why, the mere fact that time seemed to slow as the mahogany body of its immaculately designed frame fell towards me was evidence of its craftsmanship.
Of all the great artisans to ply their trade in the Kingdom of Tirea, the piano makers at the Royal St. Liane Workshop were truly among the finest.
The requirement to admire its splendour took precedence over the pressing requirement of gravity to crush my head, and so I was left to take my time as I counted the aged lines in the mahogany, admired the mirror varnish in the finishing, and ogled the delicate curve of the brass pedals, each as finely wrought as any master swordsmith's finest work.
Indeed, not even the Zelrontos of the Grand Duchy of Granholtz could compare, despite futilely raising an entire industry to dethrone the place of our kingdom's pianos on the hierarchy of the world's most esteemed classical instruments.
For all the wealth that existed east of our borders, talent was a commodity that was nurtured, not bought.
Each St. Liane was worth more than entire shops of lesser pianos combined. And for that reason, the most promising artisans made their own pilgrimages towards our kingdom, ensuring that our sales dominance in both domestic and foreign markets remained unrivalled.
A St. Liane piano was a symbol of our kingdom's craftsmanship and business acumen. A shining light even if all faltered.
And that's why—
“[Spring Breeze]!”
I refused to allow the sacrilege of its destruction to occur!
Instead of diving out of the way, I raised Starlight Grace and desperately swished, sending a puff of wind towards a piano which meant more to me than just the complex lustre of its mahogany frame.
Leaves gathered to me at once, my hair fashionably blowing as I felt the familiar sensation of wind accumulating at the tip of my sword.
A clang immediately sounded as my Mark II Prototype [Spring Breeze] struck the piano's underside, holding it in place as it hovered between my head and the treetop it'd been planted in.
“Ooooooooooh ...”
Behind me, Coppelia rightfully clapped as she took in the sight of me preserving the dignity of my kingdom's exports.
I smiled, ignoring the sudden realisation that, yes, there was indeed a piano floating over my head, and that yes, I perhaps should have dived away.
“O … Ohohohoho!” I laughed, not at all unnerved and slightly wide-eyed as I stared at the 1,000 pound instrument floating above me. “B-Behold my will to best even a piano! Why, a hundred fruit slimes have been punted away to perform this feat!”
Coppelia dipped her head beneath the shadow of the piano, peeking up at the underside.
I wished she didn't.
This was, frankly, not the most comfortable feeling.
“That's amazing! I knew your [Ball Of Doom] could, you know, do wanton destruction, but to sustain an object in the air is something else. You should join the circus … or even better, make your own circus!”
“I … well, yes, while I have no doubt that I could form a stranglehold on the entertainment industry, I already have a profession I'm quite satisfied with.”
“Being an E-ranked adventurer?”
Suddenly, the piano dropped as my arm faltered. I quickly raised it up again.
“E-Excuse me! That is not my profession!”
“That 30 gold crown dryad reward, the promotion that came with it, and the happy smile of the receptionist as she took advantage of your newly earned lucre states otherwise.”
“Coppelia, I do not deny that being swindled by the Adventurer's Guild is a profession. However, I think you'll find that I already have a profession I'm far more enamoured with. Also, could you please remove your head from—”
Coppelia ducked entirely beneath the piano. She spun around, beaming as if she'd just caused her first servant to cry.
“This. Is. So. Scary!” she said, excitement lighting up her face. “You should definitely charge for this! The amount of thrill seekers who'd want to experience this! You've got a gold mine on your hands!”
“I don't have a gold mine on my hands, Coppelia! I have a piano! Now please kindly remove yourself so that I can arrange my face into the correct expression for the abuse I'm about to deliver to the nearby troll … he's still there, yes?”
“Yup. With his eyes as big as his mouth. He's in utter shock.”
“What? Really?”
“No.” Coppelia suddenly put on an utterly apathetic face. “He looks like this.”
I rolled my eyes.
Trolls.
Here I was, lifting a piano with only the strength of my will, and all I received was the same expression I wore after I ate an improperly seasoned ratatouille.
“Still, I'm telling you,” said Coppelia, clearly eager to make piano floating a legitimate business venture. “You're leaving money on the table. Anyone other than a troll would have dinner plates for eyes right now.”
“Thank you for the advice. Now please exit before I need to explain to your workshop why you're now far more squished than when you first left.”
“Okie~”
Coppelia hopped away, though not before eyeing me for some mischief that she wisely chose to put to one side.
Thus, with considerable effort on my part, I lowered the rate of my swishing.
The piano gradually fell while leaning like a capsizing ship. I took minute steps out of its shadow. By the time I was able to admire its wheeled legs, each one spinning wildly, it was well before me and no longer above.
With a gentle thud against the long grass, the St. Liane piano was saved.
It would live to be played another day.
Especially once I was finished with the troll who sought to ruin it upon my head.
I took a moment to arrange the correct expression and posture. Brows dented, mouth open in outrage, head slightly forwards as if my nose could be used as a beak, and Starlight Grace flashing as I shook my hand with utter disregard to any person passing nearby.
Very well.
Let the outrage begin.
“What do you think you're doing?!” I said towards the troll. “You just … You just dropped a piano on me?! That's … You cannot do that!”
The troll looked down at me.
He then scratched his back.
“Apologises, madame, but I not only can, but I must. I am contractually obligated to prevent unlawful passage through this section of the garden, and have received no prior notification that visitors are expected this evening.”
I raised my arms in exasperation.
Threat of falling objects!
Why, thank you Duchy of Aquina Health and Safety Commission for making it perfectly clear that a troll was dropping musical instruments down on people's heads!
“That was attempted murder!”
“No, that was the madame ignoring the sign.”
I took a step towards the troll. The last of the sunlight disappeared as I dipped beneath his chin.
“Then why drop a piano?! Furthermore, why drop a St. Liane?! There are far inferior models constantly seeking to disgrace the floors of our stores like invasive aphids! Drop a Zelronto! Nobody with good taste cares about them! And if they do, you can drop it on them too!”
“I regret to inform the madame that I do not have ready access to a Zelronto. Furthermore, I must warn that failure to exit will result in me bringing the remainder of the ensemble down.”
The troll scratched his back.
Then, he readied not just another rope, but dozens in a single bundle, scooping them up from the grass.
I looked up and scanned the branches. Above me were the weapons of a symphony orchestra waiting to make the last sounds they'd ever perform. Amongst them, shiny piccolos and glockenspiels sat between deadly contrabasses and tubas.
I was horrified.
The absolute humiliation if I were to be defeated by a falling piccolo! I'd refuse to show up at my own funeral!
“Why do you have to drop anything?! You possess a club!”
The troll blinked at me.
“My club is very expensive,” he said simply. “These instruments are not.”
“You could use a rock!” I replied, utterly indignant that this troll could not see the comparative cost difference between an immaculately crafted musical instrument and a rock from the ground. “In what world were you taught that dropping a piano was an acceptable method of disposing intruders?!”
“Ouzelia.”
The troll scratched his back.
Just like that, all the willpower to argue died like an entire garden at the hands of a single caterpillar.
That … why, yes, that was indeed an answer I had no retort for.
How could I, when even brief exposure to that land meant permanent status as an oddball? I had nothing I could now say to this troll. No finely honed argument could move someone who hailed from that realm of eccentrics.
Which is why—
“Coppelia!”
“Mhffh?”
I swished around, puzzled by the fact that her oddly muffled voice didn't come from behind or beside me.
And then I looked up once again.
Coppelia was now sitting on a branch, much like the day I'd found her in the forest.
Swinging her legs idly, she looked the picture of mischief as she held a trumpet to her face. As her lips pressed against the mouthpiece, she eyed me with an innocent pair of eyes that almost distracted me from the hands slowly making their way to the valves.
Then, she played a tune.
“Ffffpfpoomppopffkpophhhhfhmioffa ~”
All of a sudden, a wave of clashing notes like the sound of a wounded elephant washed over me.
I was stunned.
Why, I had no idea Coppelia could use a trumpet as a weapon!
This … This was marvellous! When she served by my side at the next soirée my family hosted, I could install her as the trumpeter! Each time a member of nobility was announced and disgraced my floor with their shoes, I could roundly humiliate them with a series of musical notes as agonising to my ears as their names!
Ohohohohoho!
The poetry would be lost on nobody!
… Wait!
That wasn't why I needed Coppelia right now!
“Coppelia!” I waved at her to stop playing. “One of your brethren is here! I need you to utilise the vernacular of the insane to convince him to move aside!”
“Fffuuimnnpffhfffpmm ~”
I clapped my hands to my ears.
“Coppelia!”
“Fffpm—sorry, what were you saying?”
“This troll has admitted to being from Ouzelia! As I'm far too grounded and sensible, that excludes me from being able to engage in meaningful dialogue with him! Use your bonds of familiarity to convince him to allow us free passage past him!”
Coppelia gave me a thumbs up, then turned to the troll, her legs still swinging.
“Hey, there~ how's Ouzelia doing?”
The troll looked up, still with his hand on the ropes.
“Recently? … A few earthquakes. Blue stuff falling from the sky. The witches disappeared. Witschblume was attacked by a dragon. A New Great Evil has awoken. So all in all, good.”
“Great!”
Coppelia looked at me excitedly.
“How did I do?”
I pursed my lips, then swiftly turned to the troll, frown in hand.
“To … To be bested by my future handmaiden's verbal seduction is indeed an impressive achievement. However, be that as it may, I will not be cowered from my task. We require access to the door behind you. Step aside or face the consequences.”
“There is no door behind me, madame,” said the troll, blinking.
I looked at him in exasperation.
“You're a troll. You either guard doors or ruin economies with your merchant caravans.”
“Madame, that is a stereotype.”
I immediately peered around the troll's large frame.
Behind him, at the end of the garden path, the clear frame of a postern door to the rear of the castle could be spied, poorly disguised as part of the wall.
Why, it was the only section that was slightly cleaner than the rest.
“That is a door,” I pointed out.
The troll paused.
Then, he scratched his back.
“Yes, it is,” he admitted, as his hand slowly began to tug on the rope.
I was aghast.
If the symphony orchestra above my head dropped, then it was all over!
Why, if even a scratch disfigured the varnish on the St. Liane piano behind me, then its price would … well, no, it'd still be extremely expensive, but there was little reason to risk a finish so fine that I finally had something I could use as a mirror!
“Wait!” I said, my desperate cry halting even the troll. “Compared to a St. Liane, these instruments are a fraction of the cost and weight! Some of the cellos aren't even branded—a certain sign I can do away with them with the contempt they deserve! Attacking me would only be a wasted endeavour as I sweep everything aside!”
The troll blinked, then relinquished the bundle of ropes.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I suppose that's true. I admit, I do not look forward to putting everything back in its place. Climbing isn't my forte.”
Thus, the troll raised his club instead.
It was the size of a small tree. Except that unlike trees, it also glowed with violet symbols as ancient runes activated across its gnarled shape.
And then it burst into black flames.
Yes.
This was indeed a lot better.
