Chapter 355: In Case Of Emergency

A haze of afternoon sunlight welcomed us as we arrived at the Wessin Bridge.Arching over a valley, it stood as a monument to the ingenuity of my kingdom. A twin drawbridge formed of dark stone and hardy oak faithfully guarding the river passage into Reitzlake. 

Its task was simple.

To ensure no ships larger than a merchant’s cog could enter without paying a toll in either crowns or masts … for what overlooked it was also a fortified watchtower doubling up as a lighthouse, filled with more tax inspectors than actual guards.

As such, it was a splendid work of pragmatism and function–if not quite beauty.

Sadly, despite its very official purpose, that hadn’t stopped it from becoming a waystation for weary travellers. And although the Wessin Bridge could never be called a town, the amount of pubs, taverns and inns it boasted couldn’t be beaten by even the docks of the royal capital. 

Here, there was no allusion to restraint. 

No chapels, sewers or noble estates existed for drunkards to escape my horrified guards ordered in no uncertain terms to arrest them for littering the ground with their vomit. 

And that meant alcohol. 

Lots of alcohol.

This was a problem. Because currently, the weary travellers were no longer traders. 

Instead, they were a mob of enraged farmers and a host of my kingdom’s knights sent for whatever terrible reason to make things worse.

Thus, only one of two things could happen.

1: A bloodlust fuelled rampage. Violence, pitchforks and flames as the farmers rightfully enacted retribution for all the daughters the knights had promised and failed to marry, followed by the ensuing panic as the amnesiac knights sought to defend themselves against the threats to their hairline.

Or worse–

2: Everything I was seeing.

“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink Drink!”

I tugged Apple to a pause. 

My hands covered my nose. It still wasn’t enough. 

The odour of debauchery was overwhelming. As was the destruction. 

Tables, chairs and window shutters lined the lane which made up this impromptu settlement. 

And the culprits were all around me.

To my left, a bold and gallant knight of my realm stood atop the remains of a door, several steins of alcohol being juggled to loud cheers as froth and liquid went spiralling in all directions.

To my right, farmers and knights took turns to ride a large wooden keg, each drawing winces and laughter as they diligently attempted to crack more bones than each other. 

To my front, a squire had his own master in a headlock while repeatedly palming his back. An olive was spat out a moment later, its arrival marked by the cheering of a crowd only marginally disappointed nobody had died. 

Everywhere I looked, I witnessed a scene of drunken revelry. If something could be broken, it already was. 

There was only one exception.

The spirit of camaraderie. 

That had been repaired.

“Yer a lousy piece o’ work,” said a farmer, his head swaying side to side as he sat beside a knight with a bruise on his cheek. “The worst ruffian I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you,” replied the knight, his voice slurred as he raised an empty wine glass. “I admit I’m the worst ruffian you’ve ever met.”

“Lazy. Womanising. Dull. But you … you ain’t too bad.”

“Same goes for you, my two headed friend. Same goes for you.” 

And just like that, they toasted to a friendship forged in the flames of alcohol.

I paused in thought.

A moment later, I turned to my beaming loyal handmaiden.

“Coppelia.”

“Yes?”

“I seem to have forgotten why we came here.”

“The stated reason we came here is due to the threat of civil unrest propelling the downtrodden peasants of your tiny kingdom into a wide ranging rebellion. The true reason is because of a lack of cake.” 

“I see.” I nodded. “Thank you. I remember now.”

“No problem! Want to know my assessment?”

“Go ahead.”

“Your kingdom is doomed.”

I placed my face in my palms.

It … It was true!

Normally, I’d deny her words. And yet as I ignored a brave knight volunteering his helmet as a drinking cup, all I could see was the ruins of my kingdom’s image! 

If that was gone, then nothing else remained!

“Why … Why is everyone inebriated … ?!”

Indeed, no matter where I looked, it was a scene of unacceptable festivity!

There was only one reason for so much public joy! And my birthday had already passed!

But the worst part was … I’d seen this before!

Many times!

Indeed, the way they tossed aside all thoughts of decorum as they headbutted the ground … it was exactly like how adventurers acted on any given day!

The unbridled devastation! The property damage! The disorderly conduct! The shameless vandalism!

This was exactly like stepping into any guild hall of the Adventurer’s Guild!

In fact … if I wasn’t mistaken, this was uncannily like the Adventurer’s Guild … almost as if there was an open bar somewhere, with utterly no thought towards consequences.

My suspicions rose at once. 

Raising myself on my saddle, I looked over the heads of the bumbling drunkards. I found the culprit at once.

A smiling young woman in an all too familiar uniform, boasting a sign over her shoulder. 

Happy Hour, Every Hour!

A Free Drink With Every Purchase!

The Wessin Bridge Adventurer’s Guild

“Happy hour is still here!” she cried, waving her sign like the surrender flag this entire organisation was fated to do. “We have a fresh delivery of golden ales, local plum wines and unmarked alcohol which requires a waiver form to be signed! Every drink comes with another free drink!”

My jaw dropped.

Before me, the receptionist of the Adventurer’s Guild cheerfully enticed customers towards the direction of the most desecrated building here. 

Even the sign was loose, hanging upon a single nail as it whacked against the heads of every satisfied customer streaming in and out of the guild hall.

I could scarcely believe it.

“How … How dare they!” I said, throwing up my arms in grief. “These parasites–no, something worse– these … these pebbles with sharp edges on a beach in human form! … They are now profiteering on the threat of a rebellion!” 

Indeed!

It could be nothing else! 

I was outraged! All this time, I’d generously assumed they only wished for overt political power under the thin guise of assisting the common people with their mundane wishes for a better life! 

Instead, here they were, outright earning crowns on the back of calamity! 

“Oooh~ I smell bay leaves.” Coppelia went to her tip-toes in interest. “I think the customers are adding things to the food cauldron. Want to give it a try? I bet the taste of shoes is almost hidden away.”

I shook my head.

“If the taste of shoes is almost gone, then the guild will need to add it back in. This is unacceptable.”

“... You mean you prefer shoes?”

“No, I prefer the Adventurer’s Guild not encouraging drunken behaviour outside the confines of their halls. It is most certainly not needed. This is appalling!”

I wrinkled my nose at the mess.  

Someone other than me was going to have to tidy this up. And they could begin immediately after answering my questions.

Thus, I tugged on Apple’s reins once more. 

He trotted forwards, bravely ignoring the overwhelming odour as well as anyone unfortunate enough to mistake him for a giant moving wig.

“Happy hour is still here! Come visit the Adventurer’s Guild for a … oh, greetings! How may I help you?”

We stopped before the smiling receptionist.

She stood as though behind a desk, posture straight as a ruler and smile immaculately woven like a spider’s web. Naturally, I wouldn’t be tricked. Whatever scheme she was taking part in, I would discern.

Especially if she simply told me.

“Salutations. My apologies for disturbing you in the midst of a busy trading session. However, I must query if you have the appropriate licence for it. As far as I’m aware, the guild doesn’t have permission to empty its unwanted liquor onto the streets.”

“Indeed, we do not,” she replied, all the while leaning her sign away from my loyal steed’s searching nibbling. “However, we’ve been given emergency permission by the local garrison.”

“Emergency permission? To do what? Lower productivity?”

“The guildmaster was concerned with rising aggression due to the presence of multiple conflicting parties. In order to stem this, he suggested dispensing our stores of beverages at extremely low prices. This initiated aggressive cost cutting throughout all the alcoholic establishments in the area.”

The receptionist smiled as she directed another drunkard towards the guild branch. 

“It appears to be successful,” she said brightly.

My mouth widened in disbelief.

“Excuse me?! You flooded the town with cheap alcohol to lower hostilities?! What if it went wrong?!”

“In that case, the guildmaster would propose a new idea.”

“And what is that?”

“Unfortunately, I do not know. You would need to query him.”

The receptionist duly pointed to the side.

There, partially naked and full of mirth, was a drunkard who was beyond saving. He was surrounded by an applauding audience as he demonstrated how to not only conquer riding one rolling keg, but two at the same … for all of the two seconds he wasn’t a sprawling pile on the ground.

I pursed my lips.

These people.

Others saw a kingdom in peril. They saw it as an opportunity to get drunk.

“... Fine.” I turned to the receptionist. “You will do.”

“Of course! What may I help with?”

“Everything. Please explain in five words or fewer what I’m seeing. I heard there were needlessly unhappy peasants at the Wessin Bridge. I’ve now arrived to see a host of knights despite the fact that they’re the last people I would summon for anything other than a hand mirror. Why is this?”

The receptionist nodded.

“Outlaws.”

Hmm.

Only a single word. And yet I was already filled with regret. A valuable skill for when I eventually hired each and every receptionist to my side instead.

“I see … and what is this about outlaws?”

“There has been an unprecedented increase in banditry in the region. The Wessin Bridge garrison captain believes that the outlaws who reside in the south of the Ivywood have become organised. However, despite the increased patrols, the guards have been unable to discern where the outlaws operate. The knights are here to assist.”

I looked around me.

At the assisting knights. Most of them on the ground.

That in itself wasn’t a surprise. Knights were the greatest brigands of all when it came to making a mess of taverns. But what was unusual was the fact they were here in such numbers. 

Their gentleman’s agreement regarding not angering too many fathers in one place ordinarily didn’t allow it.

“It’s unusual for so many knights to answer such an ordinary call for assistance,” I said, leaning away in anticipation for what was to come. “... What else is there?”

“–A pale knight.”

Suddenly, a deep voice came from behind.

I duly turned around to see a suit of gleaming armour shadowing over me. 

I looked up. And then I looked up some more.

Before me was an inhabitant of the Spiral Isle. The land where chivalry still held sway, officially ranking as the safest place in the world for a princess to nap outside of my orchard. A realm where knighthood was celebrated and honour was found even in the seediest alleys.

A minotaur.

A rare sight in my kingdom. 

Especially since the last one I’d seen wasn’t so much a questing knight as a common bandit. A true pioneer. Yet while I couldn’t vouch for this one, I could accept he at least dressed the part. 

Both his silver armour and the greatsword upon his back were so bright that more than a few knights were being dazzled awake from their drunken states. The rest stared at the thick horns protruding from the finely crafted helmet instead.

The minotaur paid them no heed.

“There is a pale knight,” he added, his crimson eyes alight with seriousness as he stared at me. “Or rather, the Pale Knight. The bandits who hound your realm no longer do so out of petty opportunism. They follow the directions of a single voice. One which almost every knight here dreams to slay, for this foe is legend. A shade, perhaps, who appears in the blackest pages of history.”

I blinked.

“Excuse me? Did you say that a … a thing in the guise of a knight is now bringing terror to my kingdom?” 

“I am, yes. And that is why so many have come to claim the accolades which come with his head. A brave notion, but one I fear is foolish. The Pale Knight is a harbinger of darkness. And in all the tomes his name is written, it is said that where he goes, pestilence and doom follows.”

I turned to the receptionist. She nodded.

“Details with the guild are sparse … but I can confirm multiple 1st hand sightings of a figure matching the historical description of the Pale Knight, as well as an ability to come and go with an unnatural mist.”

I was aghast.

I’d come here to calm a peasant revolt … and now I was being told that there was some … unholy spectre wrapped in a foul legend had come to my kingdom!

Why … if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have worried!

Ohohohohohohohohoho!

H-How wonderful!

A horrific creature from the shadowy depths was now here! 

That was … That was marvellous!

It meant I now had someone to blame!!

“I see,” I said, nodding profusely. “As expected, any stirring up of the masses is no coincidence. That is simply awful–and I intend for them and nobody in a position of current power to be held accountable. Thank you for telling me this, Sir Minotaur. Is this what brings you to the Kingdom of Tirea?”

“It is not,” he replied with a mournful shake of his head. “While I would slay any villain who claims the mantle of the Pale Knight were they to appear before me, that is not my cause for being here.” 

The minotaur removed his helmet and held it by his side.

“I am Sir Arthur Tranlingway, Knight of the Order of Fortitude. By the Minotaur’s Code, I am charged with a sacred quest. And although what I seek is different to every knight here, the path of justice we walk is the same. I believe I have information regarding this spectre to offer the Adventurer’s Guild.”

I clapped my hands in delight.

“My, is that so? Then perhaps we might be able to assist one another! I do not know anything regarding what this … shade who haunts my kingdom is, but I would value any information to put it to rest.”

“That is reassuring to hear. And would you be in a position to offer assistance in return, brave maiden?”

“Certainly.” I placed my hand atop my chest and smiled. “What is the nature of your sacred quest?”

The minotaur, Sir Arthur Tranlingway, wore a sombre expression as his shoulders dropped. 

“It is one of personal retribution. My younger brother was assailed in this kingdom.”

“Truly? That is awful! What happened?”

“The details are … fragile. However, I know for certain he was assailed outside the royal capital of Reitzlake. He was showcasing his labyrinths at the time when he was cruelly set upon. He recalls being sent through the air at great speed. Would you know anything about this particular incident?”

The minotaur silently blinked down at us.

Coppelia and I looked at each other.

“No,” we said.