Morning came with the sound of hammers.

Just hammers. 

Nothing else.

The squawking of the gulls as they circled Wirtzhaven’s rooftops were drowned out. Especially since most of the rooftops were occupied. Shopkeepers, tavern owners and adventurers fearful that the missing cats would laze elsewhere each busied themselves with slotting clay tiles back into place.

Beneath them, the rest of the town was hard at work.

Loose wooden signs were being whacked back into place, helped by Coppelia as she enthusiastically sent nails through the walls. 

Debris was being swept away, helped by Coppelia as she enthusiastically sent it all into the doorway of a chapel. 

Crêpe stalls were being pieced back together, helped by Coppelia as she enthusiastically inspected every punnet of strawberries for damage.  

Everywhere I looked, the people of Wirtzhaven wore looks of utter horror, knowing the inappropriateness of my loyal handmaiden offering her time when a checklist including preparing a bath, serving tea or pretending not to see as I went back to sleep hadn’t been done. 

There was no need for them to fret, of course. 

Coppelia’s services weren’t free. Every establishment would need to pay before the day was done. 

The stables by the eastern gate most of all.

Here was a place so devastated that Coppelia didn’t even know where to start. 

She was saving it for last. And for good reason. 

It was utterly beyond repair. 

Much of the wooden facade was simply absent. Fallen logs and planks reminiscent of a capsized ship lay strewn around the modest courtyard. Beyond it, sunlight shone upon the innocent horses housed within the stalls, their snorting loud as they searched for hay amidst the ruin.

A grim scene, highlighting the ordeal my subjects had endured.

Although the trembling of the ground was brief, the consequences were not. 

Where morning should bring the sight of a marketplace brimming with life and commotion, the merchants were … well, no, they were actually there, each continuing to man their storefronts. 

Smiles were offered amidst the destruction as crowns and wares traded hands. A stoic mask to ensure that the tourists departed with only the finest impression of my kingdom as they were swindled to the very bottom of their coin purses.

I was deeply impressed. All the more so by the stablegirl.

She wore a brave smile as she approached, guiding Apple alongside her while pretending not to notice the corner of her sleeves being nibbled.

“Right you are,” she said in an accent thick with the countryside. “There’s the draft horse sorted. I’ve fixed his saddle and tightened his reins. Not too sure how you managed to stay on, to be honest. You must be a fair rider. But he’s also a fine horse. I can see you take good care of him.”  

I placed my hand upon my chest and smiled.

“Ohohoho, of course! Under my diligent care, he eats only premium apples. And also anything which catches his attention. Which is everything.”

“Aye, I can see that. He’s healthy and in good spirits. Just look at this mane. It’s a work of art, eh?” 

I gasped.

For her demeanour to be so joyful amidst the remains of her stables was perfectly normal. My presence overrode any debilitating loss of income. But to go so far as to compliment his shaggy mane was a lie so professional that it earned her a spot at my next mandatory tea party.

Indeed, horses were instinctive creatures, were they not? To therefore feign admiration for Apple’s wild mane was to ensure he was none the wiser when Operation Comb began at the royal stables. 

My, what wonderful service! 

“Yes, Apple’s unscrupulous and stubborn mane truly is a special thing,” I said as I reached into my bottomless pouch. The sound of crowns tinkled in my hand. “But all horses are. Please accept this small donation to assist in the repairs of your stables.”

The stablegirl blinked at the outstretched gift.

“Thank you, but it’s fine. If you’re in a giving mood, others could use the coin more.” 

“Very well. I shall ensure this reaches the vault of the royal family.”

The smile before me almost faltered, such was the emotion which overcame all who wished my family an uninterrupted supply of frozen sorbets come the summer.

“Right, well … luckily, there’s not too much to fix here, anyway. There’s a few more scratches than yesterday, but otherwise the stables are still standing.” 

“Your loyalty is impressive. But so is your optimism. There are more holes than there are walls.”

I pointed in every direction. It didn’t matter where. Everywhere was a concerning hole.

The stablegirl immediately narrowed her eyes towards one in particular, found upon a fallen wooden beam which was almost certainly needed to hold up something important.

“Oh, right. That one. Your draft horse managed that.”

“Apple did?”

“Yup. Chewed straight through the part of the stables holding everything together. Good thing I caught it in time. Although it’s nice to see something new as well. I’m going to make your horse the talk of all the stablekeepers tonight. It’s not often I house one who tries to finish off what an earthquake started.”

The girl gave a laugh.

I offered a nod … all the while dipping my hand into my bottomless pouch once again.

“I-I see! Yet for a horse to bravely test such poor quality construction despite my repeated instructions not to does seem rather unlikely. Why, there’s no need to alarm all the kingdom’s stablekeepers into refusing us future service, is there … ?” 

A pause met my subtle offering of additional crowns.

The stablegirl clearly considered it.

“It’s okay,” she said with an eventual shrug. “Losing bits of business is part of the job. Sure, most horses aren’t quite as curious as yours. But you get good at fixing things. Most in Wirtzhaven do.”

I offered a bright smile as another donation went to the sorbet fund. 

“So I see. For the people to display such fortitude against overwhelming hardship not caused by me is deeply admirable. It isn’t often that something as alarming as the ground shaking occurs.”

“You think so? Seems normal.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it just feels like any other day to me.” 

“... I don’t understand? Are you suggesting earthquakes are common now in Wirtzhaven? Here in a kingdom famously devoid of the ground violently shaking?”

“Well, I suppose that’s a matter of how you look at it. Most of the times the ground shakes, it’s mild at best. Even fun. Wouldn’t really go so far as to call them earthquakes. Mostly nudges.”

I offered the look of confusion this deserved.

And yes, also mild horror.

“Nudges? Since when did my kingdom have nudges?”

“Hm … a good few weeks, I suppose? Mostly since those dwarves started doing their thing over at Nettle Cross. You know, digging and the lot.” 

I immediately let out a groan. 

Dwarves. 

The rowdiest drunkards below or above the surface. 

Despite their last visit to the Royal Villa ending several months ago, the noise they made still persisted, their hollering echoing between the walls. And that was without the help of pickaxes. 

Dwarves were worrying enough … but Nettle Cross was an important village between Rolstein and the Altverd Gate known for its bergamot trees. 

… And that meant absolutely no digging! 

“Excuse me?” I was aghast. “Who sanctioned dwarves to start poking holes in my kingdom? What are they digging for? Fallen oranges? Why has nobody stopped them if the ground is literally trembling?” 

I turned to any of the nearby commoners for an answer. 

They simply continued as they were, unconcerned with the promise of permanent insomnia.

“Well, I figure it’s something important,” said the stablegirl with a scratch of her nose. “Otherwise, it’s not that bad. Most of the shaking can hardly be felt. Even this one didn’t seem like all that much. Compared to the sun disappearing from the sky, talk of a fae invasion, plagues in Rolstein and random bursts of blinding light above our chimneys, what’s an earthquake, eh?” 

I stepped back in utter horror.

The words I heard were echoed by the actions of the merchants casually seeing out their livelihoods.

All around me, not a single helpless commoner was shaking their fists towards the heavens while reclaiming their donations to the Holy Church. As they worked while simultaneously piecing their town back together, it was with the candidness of my mother’s maids sweeping me off my bed.

A deep ominousness struck me in stark contrast to what I saw.

The easy demeanour. The shrugs against doom. The apathy to calamity.   

I’d seen this before.

Why … it was almost as though … as though …

As though my subjects believed this was normal.

Yes.

Almost as though they thought this was … Ouzelia.

My hands trembled as they covered my mouth.

“T-This cannot be … !” I said as I turned in all directions for signs of mass hysteria. There was none.  “I … I demand you begin panicking at once! Why are the shops still trading?! There should be rioting, looting and stampeding! Where are the pitchforks and the flames?! … This peacefulness is unacceptable!!” 

The stablegirl looked bemused.

“So long as it’s not as bad as when pirates kept the ships away, we’ll probably keep our heads.”

She offered Apple’s reins. I took it within my tightened fists. 

Pirates. Another blemish against normality. Another cause for blaséness.

But that had been unavoidable. 

Dwarves, on the other hand, were not.

Well … no more!!

“Alrighty, I’m done~!” 

Coppelia skipped beside me, having now finished assisting the local shopkeepers. 

For her effort, she had a crêpe in either hand. And also some on her face.

I nodded at once. Her timing was excellent.

“Wonderful! I see you’ve secured breakfast. Did the stallkeepers give the crêpes as an additional reward?”

“Yes,” said Coppelia slowly. “They gave them to me as a reward. Because I helped.”

I accepted the crêpe with the strawberries and bananas, then swiftly began energising myself. Many more would be needed to drown out the crime against my ears ahead. 

But this was a start. 

“Dwarves,” I declared, my mind officially cleared with the strength of sugar.

“Dwarves!” replied Coppelia with a cheer. “... Why are we saying dwarves?”

“Because we’ve been kindly issued with an invitation to perform an impromptu inspection.” 

“Great! Dwarves are really helpful and friendly about inspections! Want me to get provisions?”

“Ohohoho … that won't be necessary.”

I turned towards the eastern gate. Towards the direction of home. 

But also the last corner of my kingdom yet to feature on my royal tour. The final stop.

A privilege that our friends below the mountains would now enjoy. 

Indeed, there was no need for provisions. 

Absolutely nothing I required wasn’t something which dwarves couldn’t offer me in an undefinable amount of compensation. And so I added to the flush of morning sunlight with a gentle smile, knowing it was time to offer what I famously did best. 

Diplomacy.

A mild tremor ran through the ground, drawing only a reaction in the form of Apple’s snort. 

And that was fine. 

After all, it didn’t matter what dwarves could do. 

My soles could do worse.