Chapter 432: Treading Lightly

I rubbed my eyes. And then I rubbed my eyes some more. 

However, despite going through the official princess checklist on things to do when something confused me, what I saw as my eyes blinked open only continued to baffle.

Beyond an empty corridor still echoing with the trundling of a boulder, a cavern boasting its own sky greeted me. Streams of dusk filtered through finely crafted channels beyond the knowledge of any surface architect. Each was brimming with specks of dust like dandelions swirling in the sky. 

However, it wasn’t the size of the cavern which confused me, nor the shafts of evening.

It was what occupied it.

Despite bearing the hallmarks of an excavation, there were no sounds of pickaxes being wielded.

Instead, there was the clanking of chains and pulleys as crates were lifted. The rumbling of carts threatening to overturn. The ceaseless ringing of bells and the hammering of nails.

“Unnnghhh …”

There was also the pained groaning around me.

I opted to ignore that. 

After all, it wasn’t the dwarves scattered about the entrance to this cavern in various states of remorse which concerned me. It was the dockworkers who’d yet to join them.

Yes.

Dockworkers.

There was no mistaking it. Only those who plied their trade upon piers and wharves could make every insult sound like an order and every order an insult. 

As they shuffled to and fro while carrying as much weight in sacks as they did in sweat, I knew at once that they wouldn’t earn a second glance were they working the length of Reitzlake’s docks.  

In fact, all that was missing was the sound of gulls.

And also water.

But why did that matter?

Apparently, ships could just use wheels instead.

“What … What is that … ?!”

Moored as though all the ocean had retreated from beneath it was an amalgamation of stone, black iron and a lack of anyone to reject its design.

Its shape almost resembled a galleon. Except that unlike The Gentle Princess, this one had no sails. It came with wheels instead, each the size of a giant watermill. And yet despite the bizarre sight, what drew the eye almost as much was a ridiculously sized cannon sat upon the front of the ship.

The length was enough to compete with the bowsprit. Surrounded by more cogs, levers and dials than I could count, it was very much the sort of thing I’d see in a corner of Clarise’s observatory. 

Likely with its own warning sign not to touch. And she almost never did that.

“Ooooooh~!” Sharing none of my alarm, Coppelia raised a hand to her brows as she stepped over a groaning dwarf. She gave an approving nod as she took in the sight. “Not bad! This is the fanciest landship I’ve seen so far!”

All I had for her was my stunned expression.

“Excuse me? This is a landship?”

“Yep! Haven’t you heard of them before?”

“Well, yes … but I assumed that was how dwarves referred to their carriages! I didn’t expect their landships to actually be ships! Or rather, very small castles with wheels!”

Indeed, the more I looked, the more outrageous it appeared!

Although its silhouette could be mistaken for a regular ship, the fact that it was predominantly a work of stone meant it was more or less a moving fortress. It was even crenellated like the top of a battlement, ready for archers to discharge their arrows. 

Frankly, I didn’t see why.

Defenders were hardly necessary when it could simply ram through any army.

“The nice ones are like that,” said Coppelia, clearly impressed with the scale of dwarven lack of restraint. “But that applies to ships on water too. It’s just that landships get to be a lot more fancy since wheels are more reliable than Mother Nature.” 

“Well, I’d expect so! Mother Nature would rather retreat than deal with this thing! Why does it look like it's wobbling slightly? Who decided something so unwieldy could be placed upon wheels? And why is that cannon so ludicrously big? What is it meant to hit? My grandmother?”

Yes.

There was no mistaking its function.

This was no diplomatic vessel balancing prestige with practicality. It was a weapon of war. If the dwarves showed up with this thing in my kingdom, the only direction my knights would be heading would be away. And now it was here, scarcely a few steps below the surface.

My hands covered my mouth.

“How awful,” I said, my gasp barely muted. “To think that all this time, such a terrible thing was lying in wait beneath my kingdom …” 

“Awful, huh? If this thing decides to take a look upstairs, I bet it’ll end up flattening all the barns. There’ll be nothing left for your carriages.”

“Indeed, is it utterly appalling … they’re even worse at trading than I thought possible!”

“Eh?”

I was appalled.

Why didn’t the dwarves ever sell this to us?!

“I cannot believe it,” I said as I stared at the unsold behemoth. “The dwarves only try selling us their castles, their traps and their armaments, when in truth, they could have sold us everything in a single moving package!”

Indeed, here was the truth behind their boasting!

They spun tales about their own flair for commerce! And yet if a troll had possession of such an absurd thing, I’d already be lowering the price by criticising the interior!

“Ahaha~ dwarves don’t sell things they want for themselves. It takes a bunch of knowledge to build a landship. The designs are only found in the type of vaults they pretend don’t exist. But mostly, you also need a lot of crowns.”

“Wha– in that case, I don’t see why they wouldn’t at least broach the topic!”

“I mean, you need a loooot of crowns. This thing is probably worth more than all the things your home has inside it.”

I gasped at the insinuation.

“Coppelia! My home is the target of every budding thief for a reason! It’s where my paintings and my poetry can be found … and while some are admittedly worth less than others, even the worst of my creations are valued higher than any magical artifact!”

Quack, quack.

Indeed, even the ducks agreed with me!

Turning around, I saw the Snow Dancer innocently whistling as she idly poked a dwarf with her foot. Enough that what were groans of agony soon became huffs of discontent. 

I didn’t blame him.

The elven woman was clearly taking notes about her next destination. And yet as alarming as that was, neither her smile nor her intentions were as concerning as the weapon she now held.

Having combed through a small armoury consisting of everything the dwarves had abandoned, she’d carefully selected the one most likely to induce horror. 

It was a success. 

“... By any chance, is that your new sword?”

“Hm?” Ophelia looked up, her eyes blinking beneath long lashes as she held up a wooden spoon. “Oh, this? Yep. This is my new stabbing tool.”

“I see … but can you not use something normal?”

“I could. But I’m pretty sure I only need a spoon.”

“Why? Do you know this … whatever his name is?”

“The thane guy? Not really. We only tried murdering each other. But then he also tried blowing me up. That means he gets the Ophelia special.”

My face found my palms.

Apparently, she’d already encountered the leader of these miscreants. Something she’d neglected to mention. 

But then again, why should she?

They were all of the same ilk. They likely knew each other from the same end-of-year gatherings.

“Fine,” I said, forcing myself to look at the Snow Dancer again. “This thane who failed to blow you up. I assume we’ll find him here?” 

“Probably. It’s where the teleportation ring I borrowed from him took me.”

“Excuse me? You’ve been here before?”

“Sure. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No.”

The Snow Dancer hummed. 

“Well, I told you they had a big plan. This looks like a big plan. Is anything else needed?”

I gave it a moment’s thought, then conceded her point.

Clearly, the dwarves were up to no good. That’s all I needed to know. 

In a way, her lack of concern was refreshing … although I suspected it was less to do with her being confident in my noble purpose and more the fact she never took anything seriously.

“... Very well, then,” I said, nodding at the sight of a busy dockyard needing emptying. “Snow Dancer, be useful and do something menacing. Coppelia and I will have a conversation with the leader of these hoodlums while you singlehandedly distract everyone. Preferably in front of the big cannon.”

Ophelia nodded.

“Nah,” she said with a bright smile.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll go with you. It’s not like I’m holding a spoon hoping for a dessert to come along.”

“Then I suggest you start growing a sweet tooth. Whatever you wish to do, it’ll have to wait until this thane has told me where he keeps the heap of crowns needed to afford his own moving fortress.”

“He can still do that after I’m done. He just won’t be coherent. Or conscious. Or alive. It’ll be fine.”

“It will not be fine. At the very least, can you not murder him in a way that will leave him semi-talkative afterwards?”

The Snow Dancer blinked.

Then, she looked up in thought.

“... Maybe,” she said after a pause. “But either way, it’s not like a distraction is what you want. This isn’t a guy who has a reputation for honour. If there’s a commotion, he’s going to bolt first and look behind him later. And if he gets into the Underhalls, then not even a hell hound will find him. If you want to deal with this guy now and not when you’re quietly sleeping, we’ll need to sneak in.”

I nodded.

It was a fair concern. My sleep was delicate enough as it is. If Coppelia had to wake up just to throw an assassin through a window, I’d lose at least 15 seconds. An unacceptable amount.

“I see … in that case, we shall do the opposite.”

“The what now?”

I raised a hand to my chest and smiled. 

“Ohohohoho … in order to cow those in the shadows, it isn’t to lower ourselves to their standards, but to display all the dignity and righteousness of our purpose.”

Ophelia immediately raised her wooden spoon.

“Okay! I’ll go first!”

“You are not going first!” I promptly told her. “In fact, you shouldn’t be going at all! … Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not what we’re doing. Rest assured, I don’t intend to simply stroll in.”

A look of utter confusion met me.

Mostly by Coppelia.

Understandable. Unlike myself, she wasn’t versed in how to approach a rodent without it fleeing into the depths of my begonias. 

However, while the answer was usually with me smiling as I slowly raised my multi-purpose gardening tool, for the leader of a band of rogues, I would instead offer what they never received.  

A dose of formality.

“You.” I clicked my fingers at the nearest groaning hoodlum. “I require your assistance.”

The dwarf became still at once.

Oddly, sweat began to pour down his brows despite the fact I couldn’t even fire him.

A moment later–

“Unnnghh … pain … it hurts … it hurts so much … can’t move … I’m so harmless …”

I leaned away slightly as the dwarf began to roll in agony, his groaning intensifying.

“Huh,” said Coppelia, studying his scrunched up expression. “You know, even though he sounds like he’s hurt, it doesn’t look like the boulder hit them. Otherwise he’d be a lot flatter.”

“Traps,” croaked the dwarf. “Hit by … traps …”

“I don’t see any injuries.” 

“P-Psychological damage traps … it hurts …” 

I kneeled down slightly, then offered my healing smile.

“Oh? Then you may rejoice. You’re now recovered. I have a task for you.”

The dwarf turned silent.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he peeked as if hoping I’d gone.

I hadn’t.

“I see,” he said, his voice suddenly resigned. “... How can I help?”

“I need you to bring a message to your thane.”

“A message?”

“Yes. A message. I wish to gently announce our presence in accordance with diplomatic etiquette, ensuring no need for him to flee due to our unexpected arrival.”

Suddenly, the sweating upon the dwarf’s brow increased.

I hardly saw why.

There was the Ophelia special. But there was also the princess special. And that was something everyone could observe from a safe distance. 

As long as they were good at fleeing. Or rolling.