Chapter 399: Black And Red

It wasn’t often that I was satisfied by a stage performance.As a princess, I judged all to the highest standards. And those standards were set by myself. 

Whether I was smiling while asleep at my tea table, smiling while asleep in my history lessons or smiling while asleep in a marriage meeting I was lured into under false pretences, I was the leading light when it came to the stage. 

Usually, my approval came in the form of the least rotten apple. Yet seeing the dust rising from what was previously a poorly laden table, I offered even more than that.

A nod.

8.5/10.

A highly unorthodox opening involving an impromptu moment of audience participation.

Sadly, despite a promising start, it was undone by a common mistake. 

The cast didn’t know when to bow out.

“Your Highness, welcome to my theatre of joy.”

I waited for the dust to settle.

The little girl didn’t.

She swept it away with a flick of her wrist, revealing her innocent smile and the large eyes practically shining in the dimming light.  

Not a speck of destruction lay upon her blue dress, nor the golden hair which bore that circlet of flowers. 

Even so, the lack of injury to anything other than her pride was only to be expected. 

Her very presence spoke of malice. Of rancor. Of an ancient power older than the world itself.

After all–

It was the same aura Grandmother wielded.

Fortunately for me, this was only a devil.

Thus, I plucked a foldable chair from the nearby stack, sat myself down, then crossed one leg over the other while I made myself comfortable.

“No,” I said simply.

The girl appeared bemused.

“Your Highness, I haven’t even begun to make my offer.”

“So I see. Which is why the rejection for that will come later. The current ‘no’ is for … this.”

“This?”

“This.”

I idly waved at the girl. All of her. Everything.

“I refuse to have this conversation with a child. I’m willing to entertain a few moments while you assume a more nefarious appearance. I understand that’s difficult when you’ve already chosen your current form, but I’m certain you can at least gain a few inches in height. Plus burning wings. Maybe a swishy tail.”

“And horns,” said Coppelia.

“And horns,” I agreed.

“Detachable too, so you can poke with them and then pretend it was someone else while quickly putting them back on.”

“And that, yes.”

A pause met our reasonable requests.

The girl looked to the corner as she pondered.

And then–

Poof.

With an extravagant cloud of white smoke … a single streak of very slightly reddish hair appeared amidst the golden length. 

I was appalled.

This truly was a devil. I’d been utterly betrayed.

“Is … Is that it … ?”

The girl shrugged.

“Despite what you may have heard, devils are not inclined to shapeshifting. It is something we can do, but not without significant discomfort. The guise we’ve chosen represents our infernal souls, encapsulating all our sins, our worth and our very meaning of existence.”

Ugggghhhh.

I rolled my eyes as I barely hid my groan.

“Wonderful. Then it’s not simply a devil in the guise of a child I must deal with. But an actual child, just with 2% extra evil.”

“... While those of my kind would usually try to dampen the unwelcome nature of our reputation, I believe every single one of us would also protest that this number is very low.” 

“Then you’ve never met a child. Especially one behind a counter. Whatever troll merchants can do, they can do better and with fewer morals. So by all means, try to raise that 2%.”

The girl dipped her knees, lifting up the edge of her dress in a polite curtsy.

A promising start. 

The more harmless they appeared, the more silent the knife.

“Then I shall do my very best. If I may, I’d like to begin by petitioning you for your favour. I heard you were ever generous in regards to the arts.”

“You heard correctly. Sadly, you also didn’t hear the full way through. I don’t regularly sponsor performances requiring the talents of devils. I find their aspirations louder than their acting abilities.”

The girl giggled.

“That’s because most of us take to the stage like a cat takes towards bathwater. But what we lack in talent, we make up for in shameless bribery.”

All of a sudden, a fluttering of wings sounded as a dozen imps answered their cue.

The stooges of the hells, these tiny fiends beat their wings with all their might, fangs showing amidst the grimaces as they lowered a literal buffet table from the sky. They carefully set the table onto the grass before me with all the diligence of servants one frown away from being fired.

I offered the spread a single glance.

Upon the embroidered silk was an assortment of all the delights a princess could decline … each with a distinctly red theme. 

Bubbling raspberry mousse in a glass. Melted strawberry upon tarts. Blood orange leaking from a polenta cake and more. All of them threatened me with a fragrance so sweet that a candle burning my nose was preferable.

I waved them all away. As did Coppelia. 

Directly into her mouth. 

“An unfitting bribe,” I said as I ignored the sight of imps panicking while their infernal bakery products disappeared faster than they could refill it. “I’m a princess. I taste cakes in my dreams. Should you wish to earn my favour, then you need to do so with things worthy of being stuffed in a vault.” 

The child tilted her head in puzzlement.

“Oh? I chose desserts as I thought it would amuse you while I queried what things you truly wished for. Would the sight of gold, jewellery and artifacts truly be enough to move you?”

“Of course. Conjure a mountain of unfathomably rare and expensive trinkets beneath my feet–enough to create a slide leading all the way back to my bedroom and I shall be moved. Perhaps not figuratively, but at least literally. And yes, it would still count.”

The devil leaned forwards, her hand raised as though ready to snap her fingers.

A mischievous smirk played at her lips.

“... You tempt me. A very rare thing to do. And an even harder thing for me to decline.”

She paused for just a moment.

Then, she sweetly clutched her hands together behind her back.

“But while I could offer you all the wealth swallowed up by the River Styx, what I wish to bribe you for is something which costs far more than things which merely glitter–and I’ve not a single wish to shortchange you. My respect for your talents is far too great for that.”

“My, is that so? And yet I haven’t even been afforded the courtesy of a name.”

“That’s because a name isn’t a courtesy. It’s a capitulation–as you very well know.”

She offered a childish shake of her head, then spun on the spot, arms raised in every direction. The hem of her blue dress and the length of her golden hair bounced along with her.

“... No, I’m afraid that as far as devils are concerned, certain parts of etiquette are very much a brief affair. But that doesn’t mean we don’t do introductions. Mine is all you see around me.”

“All I see is a shoddy stage lacking any drunken goblins. Frankly, I’m disappointed. If you’re going to conjure a stage from one of their taverns, then I expect to see the blasphemy that comes with it. I cherish the opportunity for cultural exchange. My rotten fruit is for everyone.”

The girl only giggled.

Little did she know, that included her as well.

“I did consider something more flamboyant,” she admitted. “But even if I conjured the Royal Arc Theatre with all its stains, scratches and poorly nailed floorboards, I’d never be able to recreate its ambience. Rather than do something poorly, I opted for something which better suits my modest personality. It also doesn’t ruin the aesthetics of the village.”

I gestured towards the nearby witches, each cursed with being unable to roll their eyes.

“Their silence says everything. The fact that none of the witches can be bothered to boo shows how tepidly they view … well, whatever this is. Apathy is the worst insult.” 

“The witches are shy. Although they fail to applaud, their hearts are abound with joy. You might find my tea parties dull enough to throw a chair at, but they’re so engrossed they simply forget to move.”

“Shyness is not a word I associate with witches. Tax evasion is. And that includes a certain alchemist whose shop I had to personally upend. Now, where did you put her?”

A knowing smile was all I received. 

It was still more than what I needed.

“Oh? Do you mean Miss Witch of Calamity? … If so, she’s no longer in the village.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll be needing to keep an eye out for her spilled garments. Where might she have escaped to this time, then?”

“To a place where the word ‘escape’ has few meanings and fewer maps. But I’m more than happy to tell you where. Just not for free. It will come at the tiniest cost of your time.”

“My time is worth more than any amount of cakes you could feed my gluttonous handmaiden. This is something your associates know better. They at least have a merchant’s candour to try and earn my good graces. I fail to see what you bring other than a child’s lack of charm.”

All of a sudden, the very air shifted.

A coldness beyond what any devil usually boasted tickled at the back of my neck as the girl’s smile threatened to fade. The imps which hadn’t been shooed away by my wrist scarpered like knights witnessing my morning practice scowl.

She raised a finger to make a point.

“I am not a merchant, Your Highness. I am not boring. I do not spend my immortality selling hats with all the dignity of a pauper offloading scraps. Do not mistake me for the fools who bide their time revelling in uneven bargains, exchanges, transactions and profits. I am not like them.”

Her voice trailed into silence, disturbed only by a slight trembling throughout the village.

Then … she resumed her innocent smile alongside a clap of her hands.

“No. When I speak of a tiny cost to your time, know that this is no trick. No ploy. No ruse to draw you into the abyss of a devil’s machinations. All I ask is a single thread of attention–and you will provide it. After all, what I wish from you is exactly the same as what you desire to give.”

I leaned forwards slightly, my arms folded as I offered my least impressed look. 

“To assume you know the mind of a princess is folly. Ours is a purpose not even the heavens understand. Otherwise, the bishop of Reitzlake Cathedral would cease accidentally spilling holy water on me each time he visits the Royal Villa.”

The girl merely looked amused.

I hardly saw why. It was ridiculous how clumsy that man was. Just how did he keep repeatedly spilling holy water on me from the same jug?

“Perhaps. But as limited as my wisdom is, even I can see a lost village and an audience enraptured. The witches are in need of rescue. Doing so will also allow you the means to calm the curse of calamity which runs through Miss Lainfont’s blood. If you don’t, even dragons will recoil at what will happen. Meanwhile, your own life is in grave peril, to such an extent that you cannot see how close the blade is to your throat. But there’s a simple solution. A simple arrangement. All you have to do is unsheathe your sword … and thoroughly destroy me.”

The girl pointed to Starlight Grace by my side, all the while offering her sweetest smile.

“Here stands the most generous offer any devil has ever made,” she said brightly. “Of which the alternative is very inconvenient. Do you know what that is, Your Highness?"

She let out a giggle as she approached the edge of the stage. 

And for once, it almost sounded human.

“Why, it is only the end of the world.”