Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

The sphinx’s tail idly swished, each motion counting down another second.

I spent several moments staring at the foreign sequence of numbers scribbled on the tiled floor. 

All I saw back was every memory of sitting in the study before a chalkboard. And then also the chalkboard mysteriously disappearing as it was replaced by the sight of the Royal Villa’s walls.

Trained instincts took over at once as I searched for an open window.

Seeing nothing, I returned to the hodgepodge of numbers, then slowly raised my fingers.

“1 ... 1 plus … 1 plus 3 … no, wait, that’s a small 3 …”

Coppelia leaned over my shoulder, looking between my fingers and the sphinx’s assignment.

“Want help?” she asked with a bright smile.

“No, I can do this.” I lowered my pinky as I began to count. “I just need to–” 

“Your time is over.”

And just like that, the sphinx rose.

A darkness that could swallow any shadow. The sphinx’s great form caused every remaining torch to flicker as they clung to life. Most failed, and yet even as the light grew even dimmer, its silhouette only became sharper. 

Yes. Just like its eyes.

Already shining like baubles in an inky pond, they were now aglow with an unworldly brilliance.

Naturally, I was incensed.

“Excuse me! But what do you think you’re doing … ?!”

“I think I’m about to chasten a princess who has failed a riddle.”

“That is preposterous! Nothing about this is a riddle! This … This has more numbers than words!”

I gestured towards the spillage of random numbers on the floor. 

The sphinx was unmoved.

“Numbers are merely words shaped by silence and thought,” she said, saying the excuse she’d prepared long in advance. “If you cannot hear it, then perhaps you should try closing your eyes.”

“Why? Will you slink away in shame if I do? Because this is ridiculous! What sphinx scratches an aimless set of numbers into the ground and pretends it’s a riddle?!”

“It is not aimless. It is a real equation with a legitimate answer.”

“... So you admit it’s not a riddle!”

“Not in the slightest. A riddle is a mirror for the mind, viewed clearest by those versed in logic and lore. If you fail to see past the surface, then you are unworthy to pass.”

I jabbed my finger towards the sphinx.

“How dare you! … A riddle is a test of wit! It is a question cloaked in misdirection and wordplay, solvable even by those who have never been struck by a textbook to the head! This is appalling! I see now why you’re stuck in the worst corridor that dwarves have ever half completed!”

The sphinx’s nose almost wrinkled.

“As I said, I’m only here because my youngest is a rascal. Otherwise, I am inundated with work. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll be guarding a nice corridor somewhere in the Summer Kingdoms.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy perpetual sunburns! Once the dwarves learn of this performance, they’ll never invite you again! Why, not only is your riddle an absolute shambles, but it’s hopelessly unfair! … Why is there a time limit?!”

“A necessary practicality. Otherwise, those gifted with ample time will simply find a way to brute force any riddle. For example, by counting using their fingers.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I am a princess,” I kindly reminded her. “Ample time is the only thing I do not have. And until I’m successful in sabotaging the clock in my bedroom until the maids always think they’re waking me up several hours too early, that will forever remain the case.”

The sphinx considered me for a moment.

“Very well, then. I shall cede this point. I see you’ve little nourishment with you. Either by the lure of dwarven secrets or the demands of your frail body, you shall be compelled to answer. I can wait.”

“Excellent. You may wait for the tax inspectors who will be passing by in droves. As for me, I need to prepare for their arrival. Thank you for informing me about another door. I shall go and find it now.”

I turned around.

BruuMmMmmM. 

“Oh my,” said the sphinx, as a gap in the wall promptly closed itself. “It would appear the way behind you is now shut.”

Unperturbed, I lifted up Starlight Grace.

“That’s fine. My multi-purpose gardening tool has never failed me. Every door has a keyhole. I’m certain I can poke a way back outside.”

I swept towards the wall.

BRWEEEEEEEEM.

And then I stopped as a radiant beam of undiluted light promptly struck the stone above the hidden entrance, causing a tiny avalanche of rubble to block it.

“Oh my,” said the sphinx again, her voice bemused. “The way behind you now appears to be truly barred. You shall need to proceed forward.”

I stared at the freshly made heap of debris … then at the jewelled eyes which were now shining, smoking and also partially on fire.

Hm.

How interesting.

Apparently, the claws were just there for show.

“I see you’ve finally provided a riddle,” I said, waving away a plume of dust. “It’s quite a feat how you’re invited to guard anywhere when the walls around you mysteriously seem to crumble.” 

“We guard the doors to secrets and treasures. Sadly, the passages outside of them are often lacking.”

“A bleak indictment of modern trapped corridors. These days, you cannot even expect a sphinx to keep their place of work tidy … but I suppose not everyone has the budget to hire a troll guard.”

The sphinx suddenly leaned forwards, her still expression threatening to turn into a frown.

“Trolls are less discerning than sphinxes,” she said, lacking only the hiss from a tabby cat. “They can be purchased like trinkets from beneath a merchant’s coat. We cannot. Our duty is to our pride and our riddles. I suggest you begin working on yours.”

“Unnecessary. I already have my answer.”

The sphinx leaned back. 

The mirth which had grown absent from her voice returned as a glint in her luminous eyes.

“Oh? Have you already solved it?”

“Not at all. My answer is something better … I shall provide you with a riddle of my own.”

A stunned silence filled the stale air.

And why not?

It was the finest offer a sphinx had ever received.

Ohohohohohohoho!

Indeed, let the game be turned!

For a sphinx who clearly learned her riddles from my tutors, there was no downside! Only the reward of a much needed lesson would meet her defeat! 

She’d be shamed into hiding for several centuries, yes–but nothing was worse than her current lack of understanding. Her idea of a riddle was an insult to not only her kind, but dragons, fae and princesses.

Thus, I patiently waited.

“Heh … heheh … hehehehheh.”

All I received was something between a laugh and a snort.

It was, frankly, something more alarming than a beam of concentrated heat. Laughter without a smile was highly disconcerting. 

I took a note for future reference.

“How bold of you. To seek escape through sheer audaciousness is something in my many years I’ve yet to encounter. I cannot say it did not succeed. It makes for a welcome change from the snot and tears which usually accompany my riddles.”

“Then I grieve for those I couldn’t save. Few have the willpower to withstand the indignity of a sphinx who cannot offer the most basic of that which they’re famed for.”

“Then by all means–educate me.” 

The sphinx unfurled her wings.

It was an inelegant affair. Lustrous as the feathers were, they crashed against the sides of the corridor. Dust tumbled down, more than any tremors could cause.

Even so, her silhouette was not that of a caged bird. But a predator in hiding, waiting to strike.

“I accept your challenge, brazen as it is. Should I fail to answer your riddle, you may pass. But know that there will be no compassion should your gambit prove false. My amusement is worth my mercy. But only once.”

“... Very well. Are you prepared?”

“I am.” A pair of golden eyes gleamed with untold years of knowledge. “Reveal your riddle. I have devoured puzzles older than your bloodline.”

I offered a smile … just as I leaned slightly closer.

“Why are dukes bad at climbing trees?”

The sphinx waited.

“… Is that a riddle or a question?”

“It is a riddle. Or could it be that you’ve loitered in the company of your own shadow for so long that you can no longer recognise what these things are anymore?”

Silence was the answer.

“I hear your riddle,” she said after a few moments. “And I see through it. Dukes do not climb trees because they are neither taught nor expected to. As upper aristocracy, it is beneath their station to indulge in such idle revelry. They climb instead the branches of politics, blood feuds and intrigue. A thing they already achieved in order to earn their title, for to be a duke is to have ascended as the head of their lineage.”

The sphinx tapped on the ground with a claw.

“In short … the answer to why dukes do not climb trees is because they are already at the top.”

I nodded.

“Incorrect.”

“... What do you mean incorrect?”

“I mean what I mean. You are wrong. The reason dukes are bad at climbing trees … is because none of them can handle a bow.”

The sphinx stared at me.

She thought long and hard, the years of wisdom swirling behind those jewelled eyes as they began to cloud, until eventually–

“That does not count.”

“Ohohohohohohohoho!!” I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. “… Behold! The riddles of a princess wrapped in layers of subterfuge! I see I’ve much to teach! A pity this lesson must now be cut short!”

“That was not a riddle. It was a jest. You cannot claim that something a court fool might say is worthy as a test of wisdom.”

“Hm?” I lifted my hand to my ear. “What’s that? Is the sphinx who claimed that a random goulash of numbers is a riddle also now complaining about the definition?”

The sphinx narrowed her eyes.

“I will permit this slight to pass,” she declared. “Offer another riddle and I shall answer.”

“Fine. Why do lords always lose to knights in jousts?”

Once again, a silence came over my adversary as her deliberations overtook her.

Then, she retracted her wings and neatly sat up, confident in her answer.

“Because a knight wields a lance. While a lord wields their title.”

“No. The reason is because none of them can see the point … ohohohohoho!!”

Bwoomph.

Suddenly, the world shook as the sphinx stabbed a barbed paw into the ground. 

The riddle it had offered was appropriately crushed.

“Again with the jest,” she said, her voice laced with warning. “No more. My pride is thinner than my patience, princess. You shall offer a riddle worthy of my wisdom. It shall be in the exact vein of what you demanded of me. And the answer must not be about disparaging nobility.”

Accompanying the sphinx’s discontent, smoke began to protrude from its eyes like a dragon opening its maws. Except that unlike a dragon, a sphinx was far less susceptible to my charms.

I pursed my lips.

“I see the time for humour has come to an end … very well, I shall offer you a test demanding all your knowledge and wisdom.”

Without waiting for a reply, Starlight Grace swept before me.

The sphinx suddenly leapt away, defying her large frame to shift her entire posture in a single moment. Fresh flames lit from her eyes as a paw was raised, ready to bat my sword away. 

There was no need. 

After all, the closest thing to parchment was the same thing the sphinx had used.

Swifter than any claw could scratch, my sword poked the ground as I scribbled away.

I ride in carriages lined with gold, and speak of triumphs storied and old. 

By right of birth, I wear my name, yet earned no glory and fought no flame.

The sphinx narrowed her eyes as she read it.

“You have given yourself away,” she said with barely a pause. “Were you a more modest princess, I would dare suggest you were referring to yourself. But your disparagement of your lessers goes beyond ordinary sensibility. You have reneged on a condition of the riddle, little though that matters. The answer, after all, is nobility.”

I gasped.

“To suggest that I’m anything less than a modest princess is slander. I’m wonderful at everything I do.”

“Does that include admitting when your finest riddle is lacking?”

“No. Especially since your answer is wrong.” 

“... What do you mean it’s wrong?”

“My riddle therefore doesn’t refer to nobility, but rather, someone with utterly no ability.”

The sphinx stared at me.

For a moment, her eyes burned as bright as the afternoon sunlight.

And then–

“Uuugggghhhhhhhhhh …”

She groaned.

Cupping her ears with her paws, her expression finally moved as a look of utter disgust came over her.

Seemingly in great pain, she flattened herself to the ground, tightly shutting her eyes while consumed by a headache caused by the embarrassment of her own defeat and absolutely nothing else.

“Ohohohohohoho … !!”

Satisfied at the strength of my poetry that only a sphinx, my father and soon a dragon would be forced to appreciate, I promptly began climbing over the comatose sphinx.

“Uwaah~ that one was great!” said Coppelia, helping me up as I struggled to grab onto the sleek fur. “I’m going to use that the next time I see the big guy! I want to see how many times he can roll his eyes!”

“By all means, please do so,” I replied brightly. “I’m certain by the time you next meet, he’ll have gone over a wider sample of what I’ve already written. He’ll doubtless wish for more.” 

“Mmh! I think he’ll have a new appreciation for riddles afterwards.”

I smiled, then pretended not to feel awkward as I began sliding back down.

Eventually, I crawled over the groaning sphinx and found my footing on the other side where my reward was waiting. A heavy dwarven door, it possessed several keyholes, each shaped so intricately that even someone with the correct keys would spend hours simply inserting them in the correct order.

… Fortunately, this side also had a handle!

I duly pulled it. 

Despite the weight of the door, it swung as effortlessly as any wooden cabinet, revealing another corridor beyond. It was wider, the stone more intricate, adorned with portraits and furnishings all illuminated with shafts of natural light.

There was also an elven woman with silver hair crouched beneath me.

Quack, quack.

As well as a pair of ducks.

Ophelia the Snow Dancer looked up, the lockpick in her hand no longer needed. 

She blinked, tilted her head, then gave an innocent smile.

“Hi there, fancy seeing–” 

Pwam.

I shut the door.

A deep breath later, I turned around and headed back to the groaning sphinx.

“W-Wake up!” I said as I began to shake her. “There’s an intruder!”