Pwoooomph!

A plume of molten flames lapped at my heels as I found myself rising to inspect the cavern ceiling.

Both were gaudy enough to demand my attention, and yet as I was once again held aloft by my loyal handmaiden, all I could see was a pair of ducks flapping their wings beside me.

I was slightly envious.

After all, they could escape from anything that wasn’t a sous chef–and while being carried away was a fitting image for any princess, the problem was that the way Coppelia did it involved less gentle cradling and more slinging over her shoulder or stuffing under her arm.

Normally, that is.

“–Hieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!”

Because this time, something was different.

I was no longer a sack of potatoes or a discarded piece of luggage.

Rather, I was now well and truly a dignified princess.

Arms tucked together. Knees high. Head facing away from danger. I was now being carried in my loyal handmaiden’s arms with all the grace of a maiden from a fairy tale.

I was delighted.

Screaming, yes … but still delighted!

Slowly but surely, Coppelia’s handmaiden training was finally bearing fruit!

There was just one problem.

“That was almost sneaky, huh?” said the Snow Dancer, as she abducted me high into the air. “Good thing an explosion was only in the top 3 things I expected. These guys never learn.”

I stared.

Coppelia’s golden, fluffy hair, turquoise eyes and bright smile had been replaced with shining silver hair, sapphire eyes and a smile equally concerning but far less palatable.

“–Hmmmm?!?!!”

“Wow. You must be shocked. That’s a really weird scream.”

“E-Excuse me?! Why are you carrying me?! Are you kidnapping me?!”

“I’m not kidnapping you! … Unless you want me to?”

“No?!”

“Oh, in that case, I’m saving you! I won rock paper scissors for it!”

“W-What do you mean you won rock paper scissors?! Where is Coppelia?!”

Clap.

As though in answer, a flash of midnight took hold of the cavern, silencing the shafts of dusk.

Coppelia’s smile was the first thing I saw as she blinked into existence between the lapping flames and my heels. The second thing I saw was the twirling scythe wreathed in darkness.

Pretending not to notice my indignant expression, she elegantly spun in the air, striking a knife which streaked past the inferno plume. She did the same with all the ones to follow, batting away the blades as easily as she did anything first licked by Apple.

As the ball of flames subsided, I saw the impressed nod of a dwarf. The knives danced between his fingers, no longer poised to be thrown.

I was horrified.

… Why, he’d been trying to save me from this insane elven woman!

Coppelia should be helping, not hindering him!

“–ieeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaahh!!”

Especially as anything knives could do was far kinder than the hard ground.

“[Snowfall Steps].”

Waiting until the very last moment, a clearly satisfied Snow Dancer skipped the rest of the way down. Pillows of snow like puffs of clouds met her every step, her kidnap victim bouncing in her arms as she duly found safety.

Or as safe as anywhere could be while on fire.

The dwarf had spared no expense in his burning-his-guests contraption. And while that was something everyone should have, this was simply excessive.

Streaks of molten flames had fallen to the ground, lashing the stone like a burning whip.

Here in the dockyard behind the landship, puddles of alchemical flames twisted from crimson to a sickly jade, setting crates, carts and any sense of organisation alight.

The dockworkers fled in every direction.

But not too far.

Their employer was still watching, after all.

The moment the Snow Dancer landed and I wriggled free, arms raised in the princess school of martial arts, a surprisingly agile dwarf dropped down after her.

Belying his size, he landed with the grace of a swan–albeit one armed with a pair of crass daggers.

“You should have allowed yourselves to be burned,” he said, his candour like a merchant with a false smile. “The concoction I use is designed to break through the barriers of arcane assassins which my rivals are fond of hiring. I dare say it’s a swifter fate than anything else I have to offer.”

Feigning indifference, he made a show of ignoring the flames licking at the hem of his robes. He leaned to the side to inspect a crate that hadn’t been set alight instead.

I could only groan.

“Now look at what you’ve done now!” I said, jabbing a finger at the Snow Dancer. “Because you failed to adequately murder the dwarf in your last encounter, I now have to spend time rolling my eyes over his attempt at looking smug while he sweats through his beard!”

“I am not sweating through my beard. I am protected from all sources of–”

“Stop.” I jabbed a different finger at him. “I haven’t even begun with you yet … why, just look at what you’ve done! Because you failed to adequately murder the Snow Dancer in your last encounter, I now have to spend time preparing myself for whatever outrageous scheme she’s up to!”

“Yeah.” Ophelia nodded. “That’s pretty unfair. You should really only have to deal with one suspicious plan at a time.”

“So you admit you’re plotting something?!”

“I’m a mysterious elven beauty. I'm always plotting something. If I don’t, I get a letter from the forest aunties telling me I’m letting the family down.”

I placed my face in my palms.

Sadly, when I looked again she was still there. As was the wooden spoon in her hand.

“... But I’ve got good news for you,” she said, turning to the dwarf with her least innocent smile. “It also means I don’t like sharing the limelight. It’s hard to be the centre of attention when someone else is plotting. So watch closely. I’m about to halve the amount of things you need to worry about.”

“Why only half?! Why can’t I be rid of every worry?!”

“Well, then the dwarf would have to kill me. And that’s not happening. Last time? I was just playing around. If I actually get serious, he’ll start booking lessons on playing dead from his henchmen. I am an S-rank sword saint, after all.”

It was a declaration that echoed throughout the cavern.

Cutting past the hurried footsteps, the hissing of flames and the clanking of crossbows being readied, the sound of the Snow Dancer’s simple confidence struck as true as a chime in the wind.

Suddenly, the smile she wore took on a different hue.

It became colder. Like a whisper of ice forming on still water.

A breeze which shouldn't exist played at the ends of her silver hair. As she raised her weapon, it was less like a threat and more a promise etched in frozen snow.

The only problem.

It was still a spoon.

“Heh.”

The dwarf smirked.

However, where jeers and mockery should be spilling like ale in a tavern, there was only the silence of consideration. And why not?

It wasn’t an S-rank sword saint he had to fear.

It was just an insane elven woman with a piece of blunt cutlery.

“How intriguing. I cannot count the number of famed weapons that have tried to end my legacy. They make for fine supplementary income. But I confess nothing I’ve faced has earned my concern quite as much as this. May I ask what ploy this is, Snow Dancer?”

“This isn’t a ploy. This is my stabbing tool.”

“My apologies, but you’re clearly attempting to feign something. If you truly wish to threaten me, you’ll need to use something other than a spoon.”

“A spoon is exactly what’s needed. After all, it’s what my sword master used.”

“... Your sword master?”

Ophelia took a deep breath.

All of a sudden, even the flames ceased to burn, the world turning quiet just to hear what the sword saint would reveal regarding the secrets of her training.

“Yeah. My sword master. I never thought much about the old guy. He’s one of those people who talks about swords being a part of your arm. Which is dumb. Because then you wouldn’t be able to pick up anything slightly round.”

The dwarf almost replied.

He wisely waited instead.

“... But he did teach me a few things, even if I only bothered remembering one of them. What I’m about to show you is that. The pinnacle of an elven sword master’s wisdom, plus his out of tune humming when he thinks nobody’s listening.”

She frowned, her lips fighting to even form the next words.

“The Thirteenfold Silent Aria of the Moonless Heart.”

A resounding silence met her words.

And also confusion.

“... And it needs a spoon?”

“Nothing else will do.”

“That’s simply ridiculous.”

“Say that to the old guy. He never liked being disturbed at dinner. It was the only thing he had no patience for. We could fail to stab a falling leaf a thousand times and he’d be there nodding while twirling his moustache. But anytime someone asks him a question while he’s eating mystery stew, he’d tap them with his spoon. That was enough to make them comatose for 2 months.”

The dwarf carefully studied his opponent with renewed care.

“I see … and such a technique is what you’re threatening me with?”

“Nope, that’s the tourist version. The real one involves 13 strikes to the nerve clusters of your chest, rendering you paralysed until the exact sequence is repeated. Nothing will stop children from drawing on your face.”

The surrounding henchmen began to creep away, horrified at a fate worse than death. Those ready to leap with their weapons lowered all they held, their eyes widened in fear.

Only their leader did not hesitate.

He simply raised a bushy brow.

“A new tale. And one worthy of your sword master. I’m aware of who the Leaf Dancer is–and I’m also aware that if such a potent technique existed, your forests would be overrun with those hoping to replicate it. You are bluffing.”

Ophelia smiled.

“... Am I?”

It was all the warning she offered.

She struck as the dwarf parted his lips to respond.

Where she stood before, there was now only snow. A glimmering trail like pollen in the breeze, left to gently drift as Ophelia skipped … no, danced towards her foe.

A pair of black daggers rose to meet her.

It wasn’t enough.

In the blink of an eye, the spoon swept between the crossed blades, then prodded the dwarf’s chest.

Once. Twice … and then over and over again, the Snow Dancer’s wooden spoon became a blur as she struck faster than any dwarf could react.

After the twelfth blow, she paused, the final flourish poised like a rapier in a duellist’s hand.

“Shadows loom where breath stands still, and silence roots the turning world. Snow Helix Form, Hidden Stance … [Thirteenfold Silent Aria Of The Moonless Heart].”

The spoon struck directly in her opponent’s sternum.

Several moments passed.

At last, a blinking dwarf turned his gaze downwards, staring at the flimsy piece of wood still prodding at him. He rolled his shoulders slightly, testing his mobility.

“... Is there a delayed effect?”

“Nope. It should work straight away.”

“I see. Then it seems you failed.”

“Mmh, I could never do it the way he could. That’s why I need to add a 14th strike.”

“A 14th strike won’t help you, Snow Dancer. A spoon is a spoon.”

“Yeah. And a head is a head.”

Pwam.

With utterly no hesitation, the insane elven woman did what only she would do.

She headbutted a dwarf.

The sound as her skull collided with the far sturdier one was highly concerning. But not as much as the crack when her opponent was smashed into the hard ground.

His silhouette was entirely lost as a plume of dust swept up along with the shattered stone.

“... Done!” Ophelia turned to me with a look of pride. “Did you see that? What do you think? Impressive, right? Improvisation is my specialty! Even without weapons, I can take out any assassin after you! All you have to do is give a twirly hand signal and I can murder just using my head!”

I was appalled at the barbarism.

“Was that the Ophelia special?!”

“Yup!”

“You just headbutted a dwarf! … Are you not injured?”

“Not a scratch,” she said, holding her forehead to cover where a large red bump was forming. “I’m really tough! Especially my head. That’s why someone like me is useful to have around.”

“W-Why does it sound like you’re searching for employment? And why would I need someone who can headbutt dwarves?!”

The Snow Dancer wore her most suspect smile yet.

However, whatever reply she had was lost as she sent her gaze downwards, blinking at the hand wrapped around her ankle.

Pwoooomph!

A moment later–all I saw was a Snow Dancer-sized hole in the stern of a heavily armoured landship, courtesy of the dwarf who hurled her as easily as I did a stale croissant.

“I’d recommend against hiring her,” he said, a single necklace glowing as he rose. “Sadly, it’s clear that someone like her can only be relied on to cause problems. Talented as she is, professionalism is a trait that cannot be undervalued.”

My mouth widened in horror.

“How dare you! … Didn’t you say landships are expensive?! Did you have to damage it?!”

“No, but I enjoyed it. It’s also insured. There’s a clause for damage caused by elven sabotage.”

“Well, you’ll need to inform your insurers to pay me instead! Everything you see has been requisitioned! That means no setting things on fire and no new holes!”

The dwarf shrugged.

“Then you’ll have to do better than the Snow Dancer. I’m afraid, however, that my amusement with her doesn’t extend to you. I’m quite certain you’re more than you appear. And history has shown that adventurers arriving at the eleventh hour have a knack for being underestimated and coming out victorious. I shall not make that mistake.”

He cracked his knuckles–just as every trinket he wore began to glow.

“Now, out of respect for The Law Of Diminishing Subtlety, I will proceed to murder you in the most foolproof way possible. If there are any issues, please direct them to my secretary.”