My, a red carpet.

I was almost impressed.

As Coppelia set me down after hopping through the mysteriously open window, the first thing I noticed was the fine silk beneath my soles. Somebody had the good sense to predict our arrival.

Sadly, any competence regarding etiquette had no place amongst dwarves, which was why whoever came next decided that dust and debris made for better decor.

Within a chamber filled with plumes of grey, everything that would need cleaning met my eyes.

Fragments of stone and glass lay scattered in every corner, piled amidst upturned chairs, fallen portraits, spent candelabras, several bookshelves and all the books and scrolls they once held. Inkwells and wine jugs left dark puddles against the carpet, staining the only passable furnishing that was there.

It certainly wasn’t the marble table. That was now upside down.

Or at least until our host decided to fix it.

Rising from the most unkempt pile of things was a dwarf dressed to overshadow whichever function he sneaked into. Gold embellishment decorated his mantled robes as much as himself.

Shining prominently even while coated in broken fixtures, he wore a troll carriage’s worth of jewellery.

Rings, bracelets and overlapping amulets all faintly glowed, the embedded gemstones so pristine that only they were warded against the dust.

The dwarf patted his beard down, then did the same with his attire.

Once done, he bent to lift the fallen table, flipping it over before gathering bits and pieces to decorate it.

Engraved goblets. Stone coasters. Silver jugs. A centrepiece in the shape of a little anvil. And also a fruit bowl. He turned several times on the spot, studiously plucking out the wet remains of apples and peaches from the surrounding debris and returning them to the bowl as a sludgy mess.

He nodded as Coppelia held out a flattened orange and a vine without any grapes.

Lastly, he pulled up a chair for himself. He didn’t bother with the rest.

“... Well now,” he said, wearing a professional smile as he took his seat. “It seems I have guests. To what do I owe such an unwanted pleasure?”

I returned his smile with my own.

Naturally, mine was far more genuine. I could look forward to a night free of continuous bumps, whereas depending on the shaky cart whisking him away, he could not.

“Salutations. My apologies for the intrusion. I’m here regarding a noise complaint.”

“A noise complaint.”

“Yes. I’m here on behalf of every barkeeper who can no longer hear the calls of their clientele. That’s terrible. If the hoodlums cease being drunk, they might cause even more mischief instead. Such as digging a hole under my kingdom.”

The dwarf drummed his fingers against the table, likely due to missing a cat to stroke.

“... Ah,” he said, his gaze settling at once upon the copper ring disgracing my finger. “I see. The most likely suspect. And yet I only have my respect to offer. For adventurers to go where they please is hardly something I can criticise, after all.”

“Indeed, there’s little to distinguish between adventurers and common rogues. Especially when they all rob the same tombs. The traps which need constant replacing certainly see little difference.”

The dwarf merely looked puzzled.

I didn’t see why. He undoubtedly counted adventurers amongst his most reliable allies.

“Regardless,” I continued. “I can see that one group of hoodlums is worse. Not by a lot, yes, but no matter how much adventurers try, the worst their drunkenness can destroy is a bar. You, meanwhile, manage to destroy the entire inn.”

“That really isn’t something I can take credit for. Destroying inns is a dwarven rite of passage.”

“Yet you look the most unnoteworthy of them all. I assume that makes you the leader?”

“The leader, yes. Unnoteworthy, absolutely not. I’m often told my beard stands out.”

Ugghhh.

I didn’t bother hiding my groan.

“That’s the compliment when nothing else is available. Do you not have any special talents I can use to distinguish you from your henchmen? Otherwise, it’ll be extremely confusing when they decide to cease cowering behind your door.”

The dwarf paused, listening as the gulping of collective ignorance sounded from behind his door.

Then, he shrugged.

“My special talent is hiring. An understated but important skill. I know the exact amounts of ineptitude and cowardice I can expect from those around me, ensuring just the right amount of productivity and lack of ambition. Anything less wouldn’t allow me to be where I am.”

“Lost and in dire need of a map?”

“On the cusp of greatness actually. And with little time to be disturbed. Especially by an adventurer who I can see is no common F-rank. You’re acquainted with the Snow Dancer, I take it?”

I glanced behind me.

There, the insane elven woman was sitting on the remains of the windowsill, one leg crossed over the other while idly twirling a wooden spoon. She offered an innocent smile.

“I have no knowledge of who she is,” I said, turning back to the dwarf.

“We’re so close that I have tea with her grandmother.”

“Excuse me?! You do not have tea with my grandmother!”

“Hey, I had loads of tea with her! … I had to fetch the peppermint from a forest filled with exploding flowers! Plus I had to bake the mille-feuille! And then I needed to sew the cushions too!”

My mouth widened as the image of Ophelia being made to run needlessly dangerous errands by my grandmother filled my mind.

I had utterly no idea what had occurred between them … only that the less I knew, the better.

“I don’t know why she’s here,” I told the dwarf. “Only that whatever she’s planning is far more concerning than what you are.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Likely because the Snow Dancer was nodding. I could see her shadow.

“Is that so? Then I’ll be glad to seek her expertise … I’m not certain how you escaped, Snow Dancer, but my offer still stands. Did you wish to join the Shadowvault Syndicate? I can bring a brochure if you’d like. We can even discuss remuneration.”

“Still a pass,” she replied. “But I’ll take your stuff. I’m guessing the vault’s under the carpet?”

“It is, yes. Would you like the keys?”

“Nope, I’m good. I have a spoon.”

I briefly closed my eyes.

It wasn’t quite enough to make me forget the Snow Dancer’s existence. Only a falling plant pot to my head could do that. But I could at least focus on the matter at hand.

Yes … ensuring that the contents of every vault went towards my pillow fund and not whatever bored elves did with them.

“You,” I said, clicking my fingers at the dwarf. “The harm that you’ve caused is immeasurable. You’ve disrupted my sleep, damaged the bergamot trees and accustomed farmers to the ground literally shaking. This is outrageous. You will cease whatever mischief you hope to achieve, followed by compensating the kingdom for every inconvenience.”

He leaned slightly back in his seat.

“Hm. How curious. For my work to be described as mischief is somehow more grating than the fact you’ve made a mess of the suite I decorated. Allow me to assure you, Miss Adventurer, as the leader of one of the dwarven underworld’s most disreputable organisation, my ambition is more than–”

“Stop.” I held up my palm. “My apologies, but everything you’re about to say is so forgettable I need to take notes. Coppelia, he’s about to tell us about his plan doomed to failure. Please remember it for me.”

“Okie~”

“My plan isn’t doomed to failure, thank you. At the very least, I’d like to think it’s mildly better than what someone whose own plan is to casually accost me in my own abode can imagine.”

“You think too highly of yourself if you think I need a plan. Which isn’t to say I never do. Only that for you, it’s unnecessary. I’m here to requisition everything I see including this landship. Any other consideration is unwarranted.”

The dwarf let out a short chuckle.

“Quite a few people would like to requisition this landship. Sadly, I’m in no position to permit that. Even with my wealth levels, it was exorbitantly expensive to commission. I also require it for the big plan.”

“Your big plan is greater in noise than in substance. But I see discretion is rarer than a functioning sofa. This scheme was undone the moment you needed to dig a hole. Whatever treasure or artifact you require on my kingdom’s surface, know that every pickaxe now sits dormant.”

Strangely, the dwarf looked puzzled.

“Ah,” he said with a click of his fingers. “You refer to the quarry of shame.”

“The … what?”

“I see where the misunderstanding lies. You must believe that the excavation on the surface is for the purpose of digging for something. It isn’t.”

“No? … Then what is it for? An entrance to invite every hoodlum into your midst?”

“Most certainly not. And given the number of dwarves littering the quarry with work resumés, my foreman needs to make this clearer. Its only purpose is to encourage productivity among my existing staff, after all.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve many machinations, but that dig site isn’t one of them. It’s where I send those who are slacking as punishment. That’s all.”

My mouth widened in horror.

“P-Punishment?! … How dare you! My kingdom is a land of beauty and riches!”

“To you, perhaps. But to me, it’s where far too many cows are. And to all of them, I apologise. Believe me when I say that inconveniencing farm animals isn’t my intention. Similarly, I also have no quarrel with the unfortunate people of … well, whichever kingdom is upstairs.”

I leaned slightly forwards. The dwarf leaned back.

“The Kingdom of Tirea,” I said with a warm smile. “It’s a difficult name to remember. But worry not. You shall learn it when crafting the words ‘Made In Tirea’ upon the bars of soap.”

“... Soap?”

“Soap.” I clapped my hands together. “There’s an island dedicated to the crafting of soap. And since it also requires extensive mining to gather the minerals, I’m certain your few talents can be put to use.”

“I see. That sounds rather dreadful, but while I must decline taking part, I can promise that the noise will soon no longer be a concern. Not for you, nor my rivals–all of whom I expect to seek my demise in a very short matter of time.”

The dwarf wore a look of satisfaction.

I recognised it at once.

The confidence. The ambition. The lack of foresight.

It was an expression I’d seen often in the corners where nobility made their lairs, usually just before the costs of funerals increased. After all, to be deliberately unconcerned with being tossed into a well by his peers could only mean one thing.

“You … You seek to lure your rivals into one place to destroy them, don’t you?”

“Not destroy,” replied the dwarf at once, his finger raised. “But to crush. Figuratively and literally.”

He then gestured at every shadow around him. The pride glinted in his eyes.

“All the finest knaves you will never know will soon be here. The Obsidian Cartel. The Silent Forge. My friends at the Iron Quorum. All united to deal with the nail which sticks out. Me. Do not underestimate how thoroughly despised I am. I was once a lawmaker. Now I’m the most insufferable scoundrel around. Every rogue will jump at the chance to murder me now that no reprisal is guaranteed. I shall do away with them all, collapsing every newly made passage I’ve laid out for their convenience with a single immense blast into the prepared fissures. Perhaps you’ve seen the catalyst? A masterwork cannon primed to unleash the strength of more pure arcana crystals than the Stone Assembly believes to exist.”

My hands covered my mouth.

“You intend to bring down the entire surface.”

“Not all of it. The kingdom above is entirely incidental. It’s not like I actively hate the cows. Yes, the blast will destabilise the rock strata and cause a few barns to fall into the void, but rest assured, this is for a good cause. The dwarven underworld is literally the foundation of the continent. Every illicit activity can be traced back to it. Here is the grave where it will thoroughly die.”

Silence met the dwarf’s declaration.

For a moment, only the din of his own satisfaction could be heard. And so I did what any princess could.

I held my hands tighter against my lips … all to hide my quivering smile.

“Oho …”

“Hm? I’m sorry, but could you repeat–”

“Ohoho … ohohohohohohohohohohoho!!”

His mouth dropped in shock.

As was right. It was a wonder how I was able to contain my amusement for so long.

All this time, I had expected the machinations of a common criminal … but this was worse than that!

Why, it was the plan of a common nobleman!

“Ohohohohohohoho!! … To think that a thousand tonnes of dirt separates our two realms, but the lack of creativity is still the same! Such a convoluted scheme to bring your rivals into one place! You do your title wonderfully!”

The dwarf mouthed wordlessly, his frown conveying his displeasure where words failed him.

“Miss, this is no laughing matter! While I really shouldn’t be worrying you, I was understating my claim when I said that only a few barns would fall! It would at least be a few villages! Perhaps a town!”

“Then allow me to assure you that it would never work. Anything past the point of sticking out your ankle during a dance never does. There is a rule called The Law Of Diminishing Subtlety. The more unnecessary it is, the more unlikely it is to succeed. It isn’t due to lack of ambition that most nobility now stick with pushing each other down a well. It simply works. Your plan will not.”

“I have carefully calibrated–”

“Yes, I’m certain you’ve measured exactly what’s needed to ensure a cavern will fall onto your head and nobody else’s. But while I’ve no desire to stop that, I’m certain you’ll accidentally cause a bergamot tree to fall over. I cannot allow that.”

The dwarf’s beard practically bristled with indignation.

“There is no well big enough to push the amount of rivals I have! Do not suggest what works on the surface is applicable to what happens below the ground!”

“Well, I’m not suggesting you push every rival down a well. That would also fall foul of the rule. But if you truly wish to bring everyone together and murder them in one place, all you need to do is host a tea party. I’m certain with your hospitality they’d end up choking themselves just to get away faster.”

A pair of arms raised themselves in exasperation.

“I am the Black Thane of the dwarven underworld! I do not host tea parties!”

“Well, there’s your problem. I guarantee that if you drink more tea and less … whatever it is you consume, it will freshen your mind. Perhaps you’ll find a different hobby to spend your wealth on other than ineffectually murdering your rivals.”

“Murdering my rivals isn’t a hobby. I am striving to restore order to the dwarven realm!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Please. You are striving to create a vacuum in which you can take over. That’s a scheme so generic that it’s used as an example plot in the guidebook of villainy.”

The dwarf rose from his chair, then leaned over his table.

“... There is a part 2 to my big plan,” he said, his tone bereft of amusement.

“Well, I hope it’s better than part 1. That’s so mundane I can’t even force myself to yawn. What is it, exactly? Will you seize the dwarven throne? Begin an empire vast enough to swallow the surface?”

“Yes. But I’d do it tastefully. And also in a way where you can’t complain. Mostly because you’ll be dead.”

Ugh.

To think I even asked.

“Very well, then.” I idly flicked my wrist. “Go do your thing. I can see it coming like a poodle without a leash. Click your fingers and signal your hoodlums to waltz inside and brandish their weapons. We may as well get the theatrics over with.”

A smile returned to the dwarf.

“I’ve no need for my layabouts. I’m quite able to handle my own affairs, as the Snow Dancer can attest to. [Cinder Aegis].”

A ring glowed on his hand.

I waited for something to happen, and yet other than a reddish hue coming over his cheeks, nothing did.

Slightly confused, I glanced back at Coppelia.

“He doesn't seem to be attacking. What did he do?”

“Hmmmmmm …” Coppelia pressed a finger to her cheek in thought. “If I had to guess, I think he just cast something to ward against flames.”

Off to the side, the Snow Dancer was busy tossing her ducks through the window.

That really was everything I needed to see.

“... Really?” I said to the dwarf, having finally earned my least impressed face. “Is this honestly the most subtle method of murder you have available?”

The dwarf shrugged.

“No, but it is the most satisfying.”

Click.

Somewhere beneath the table came the telltale sound of creativity dying.

A moment later–everything exploded.