Lady Uxna rapped her knuckles against an ornate wooden door.

“Duchess Cadence. Your guests have arrived.”

Pumph.

The sound of an object tossed against the door came in answer. Lady Uxna turned to me and bowed.

“The Duchess says she is most grateful for your time and invites you to enter her study.”

“Thank you.”

I offered a smile as the seasoned ogre maid departed.

A moment later, she paused to adjust a portrait I’d purposefully nudged along the way.

I was mildly impressed. While I had complaints about the use of burgundy carpets when it was tacitly only rolled out in anticipation for the most drunken of dignitaries, I had fewer qualms concerning the training of the castle staff.

Indeed, they were inconspicuous and quietly efficient. Only through my studious eyes and the fact I’d occasionally poke a curtain to a squeak of discomfort revealed the labour behind the upkeep.

Sadly, not even the most hospitable of servants could balance out the fact I was even here at all.

Yes … because right now, I was in the heart of a foreign castle.

To say this was a situation fraught with peril was to say sneezing in front of my etiquette teacher was only mildly hazardous. It wasn’t. It was the most dangerous thing one could do. As was wading into an audience with a foreign duchess without my siblings to point to instead.

Even so, I wasn’t above the challenge. And nor was my loyal handmaiden, whose wisdom concerning Witschblume and its ruler I could rely upon.

“Very well,” I said, nodding towards Coppelia. “What can I expect of this Duchess, then?”

“No idea.”

Hmm.

This was going to be one of those meetings, wasn’t it?

“... Is that it?”

“Mmh~ this really wasn’t part of the sightseeing itinerary. If we followed my plan, we’d be at the Cursed Ruins right now. Want to go afterwards?”

“I … I shall pass, thank you.”

“Are you sure? Admission is free if you can dodge all the traps.”

“Then I’ll be all too delighted to experience it if I require a sudden escape free of cost. We’ve yet to arrive at that point. I hope to keep it that way. Is this Duchess not your local ruler?”

“Technically, sure. But she’s never stuck her head into the library or dropped by during any of the family gatherings, either. I don’t think she’s ever even popped in to steal a jam tart.”

I offered the look of puzzlement this deserved. Not least because stealing jam tarts was a rite of passage for young maidens everywhere. Even a family gathering was worth that.

“Excuse me? Why would she drop by a family gathering?”

“Oh, right. I’m pretty sure she’s my cousin.”

My mouth widened at once.

“Your cousin? … Coppelia, that is highly pertinent information! Why, we could use that to our advantage! How closely related, exactly? How many times removed? Which house branch? And what is the number of unexplained accidents before you would assume the seat as Witschblume’s ruler?”

“Ahaha~” Coppelia waved my opportunism away. “It’s not like that. I have a lot of cousins. It doesn’t mean we all know each other. She’s a clockwork doll. And I’m definitely not lined up for her job. ”

My hopes deflated at once.

A shame. To have the ruler of a town famed for its berry harvests as part of my personal retinue would have been a wonderful boon. Yet perhaps this could still be salvaged.

Indeed, there was little reason why new bonds could not be forged.

I now officially knew two clockwork dolls. To one, I was a princess. To the other, I was a saviour. And now to this third, I could be both. Any missing dragon doubtless concerned her as well.

Thus … opportunity!

“Very well, then,” I said with a confident smile. “Let us see what this Duchess is made of.”

My loyal handmaiden enthusiastically pumped her fist in the air.

“Diplomacy~!”

“Yes, Coppelia. Diplomacy. And with not a single piece of strewn furniture involved.”

She blinked at me.

“Soooooo … just things smaller than furniture?”

“No. Nothing at all will be dislodged from its original position.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun. We’re here to navigate a situation fraught with peril and to find a missing dragon as our reward. Remember–no matter how informal this meeting, all etiquette must be observed. And this goes for caution as well. We know little of this clockwork duchess, and even less of her mind.”

“I think she doesn’t like laundry.”

“Yes, her wisdom has already shown itself. But wisdom also means cunning. We must be on guard.”

“Okie~”

Coppelia gave a lazy smile. All the while not bothering to open the door for me.

I gestured towards it with my chin. When she began winding up her leg, I pushed the door myself, opting to display that in my kingdom, a princess was not so helpless that she could not even navigate her own entrance.

As it swung noiselessly inwards, I stepped through with trained grace.

Smile ready. Back straight. Hands clasped together. Emergency yawn prepared.

A moment later–

I realised none of them were needed.

In the court of diplomacy, every action spoke a thousand words. And yet in this instance, my entrance was drowned amidst a cacophony … for what spoke even louder than my entrance was the complete absence of anyone to meet me.

Neither a curtsy nor a sniffle was to be found.

For a moment, indignation filled my every pore.

Why, to be purposefully kept idling was nothing short of gruesome disrespect!

Here was a tactic my family employed as standard! But I was no weaselling merchant here to beg a copper crown from my father! I was a royal representative!

Yet as I surveyed a study which was lacking in all traditional aspects of a study, I saw no discreet door leading to a solar from which a duchess could unhurriedly stroll in while fanning the non-existent sweat from her face.

In fact … all I saw was a private chamber, complete with a large bed beneath a window with a basket-shaped hole in the glass.

Bewilderment struck me as I wondered whether I’d been mistakenly led into the Duchess’s sleeping quarter. And then disbelief as I realised I very much had.

A pile of unkempt duvet began to wriggle.

A moment later … up rose an arm.

Like a drowning maiden seeking to be rescued, a frilled sleeve was caught by the streams of sunlight released through the broken window. The hand which peeked out slowly beckoned me closer.

My eyes studied for anything else to offer my attention towards.

There wasn’t any. And so I slowly approached the arm … only to be met by the sight of a face poking out from a crumpled pile of bedsheets like a badger peeking its face beyond a den.

A girl younger than myself.

One whose proud eyes blinked at me through locks of hair as pale as snow. As she lay on her side, I spied the outline of a large key protruding from her back shaping the duvet.

“Greetings, Princess Juliette Contzen,” she said, her tone business-like and imperious, no differently than were she sat upon a high chair. “I welcome you to the Duchy of Witschblume.”

I offered a nod.

“Salutations … would you be the ruler of this town?”

“I am. You speak with Cadence Joyister Loventeidt. I am charged with the defence and prosperity of Witschblume and all its people. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me at short notice.”

“You’re welcome.”

The Duchess nodded.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Would you like a raisin brioche? It’s conjured directly from the kitchen.”

I glanced down at a plate upon a bedside table. A golden bun slathered in butter sat waiting.

“Thank you,” I said as I offered it to Coppelia.

Immediately, the bun was replaced by a raspberry strudel, appearing with a tiny wisp of smoke.

That too vanished, plucked by a hand faster than a diving albatross. A glistening éclair took its place. And then a buttery croissant. And then a slice of mille-feuille. And then an entire stack of profiteroles.

Like an endless fountain of pastry, this diminutive plate warred against my loyal handmaiden’s appetite, and then her curiosity as she continually piled desserts directly into the pouch by her waist. Only after a cry of grief swept into the chamber from a distressed chef did the plate stop instantly filling.

Yet when a single pink macaron appeared, the Duchess poached it like a chameleon grabbing a fly.

“I was waiting for that,” she said as it vanished into her duvet den. “Hmm. Rhubarb flavour. Interesting.”

My beautiful smile never wavered.

“... Excuse me, but I cannot help but notice you appear to be in bed.”

“I am, yes.”

“Are you ill, by any chance?”

“Yes. I suffer from a malady called Lady Uxna. She insists I do not get enough sunlight, despite the fact that it is irrelevant to my needs. Having no wish to endure her chiding, I am therefore obliging her request as I see fit.”

Duchess Cadence blinked as the sunlight from the broken window grazed her chin, all the while she set fire to etiquette with the efficiency of a flaming tornado.

A notable opponent. I turned my smile to Coppelia.

“I require a croissant.”

“Got it!~”

Coppelia opened her pouch. Out came a buttery croissant pinched from the conjuring plate. I took it, and then without looking, immediately started nibbling. Flakes of pastry began to drift down upon the lying figure of the clockwork duchess.

“It is my pleasure to meet you,” I said with my mouth full. “Much has been said about the beauty of Witschblume. I see it was all understated.”

“Then it appears I’m due a refund,” she replied without fuss. “I ordered that lies concerning Witschblume’s beauty be spread with no regards to shame. 15% of my economy is based on tourism. An infinite amount of desserts don’t just conjure themselves.”

She paused, then blew away some of the croissant flakes. She looked mildly amused.

“Hmm. Most princesses would be more vocally insulted by my current state.”

“I’d never dream of this as an insult. It is only fit and proper that as ruler of this town, you are permitted to dictate the rules of etiquette.”

“Oh?”

“A ruler should govern by example, and what better example than the ability to lounge while the kitchen staff work on your behalf? To do otherwise is a grave sin, for why should any subject seek to struggle if their thoughts of climbing the ladder to treason will not earn them such fruitful yields of slovenliness in turn?”

“Lady Uxna says otherwise.”

“Lady Uxna is a retainer. I am a princess. And my words are wisdom born in the halls of enduring history.”

The Duchess nodded.

Then, she reached out and offered approximately half a pink macaron.

“Would you like to try it?”

“Yes, please.”

I accepted with a smile.

And thus–the intricacies of foreign diplomacy had been successfully navigated.

Duchess Cadence swallowed her half of the macaron, then brushed the croissant crumbs onto the floor.

“Now, then,” she said matter-of-factly. “What is the calamity which brings you to my town? I can still hear the alarms ringing. It’s been many years since I last had to deal with any princess related matters. And even longer where one hasn’t been stolen. So tell me, if you would, of the tide of woe you bring.”

I leaned down to help sweep some of the croissant crumbs from her duvet.

It was invigorating to spill it upon a different floor.

“I bring only the tide of my reassuring presence. Foul deeds flow into Ouzelia, and I am the ebb which will draw it back. You have a missing dragon.”

“I do, now?” The Duchess raised an eyebrow. She paused as if to consider my words. “... Ah. I do have a dragon. Virudaax the Learned. Was he still alive?”

“Apparently so, for it is not a princess who has been stolen, but your draconic subject.”

“Hmm. A curious phrase. I’ve little mind to consider that bookworm to be one of my own.”

“Is he not a resident, only a stone’s throw from this very castle?”

“Proximity means little to a dragon. A stone’s throw and a shooting star is the same to their wings. The library this one lords over is a realm in itself. He pays no taxes, citing a litany of ancient tax exclusions nobody else but he understands. Other than sending me a birthday card each year, our interactions are few. I would be surprised if yours were more.”

The Duchess blew away a strand of hair stuck to her lips.

“... So why does a missing dragon concern you?”

“I’ve important matters of contract to discuss with him. The sooner the better. As wonderful as these macarons are, I would rather return to my kingdom and ease the grief of my diplomats. Sadly, the librarians are unaware of where he might be or who had seized him.”

“Because librarians have too much imagination and not enough knowledge of current events. If he has been stolen, then the culprits are as clear as the libel written in The Witschblume Times.”

She nudged her face towards several bundles of parchment, each tied up like logs and sat before a fireplace waiting to consume them. I squinted at the nearest heading.

Duchess Cadence Now Most Popular Ruler In History!

“Disgusting, no?” she said, burrowing once more into her den. “I have a 102% approval rating. The dead literally rise to praise me. A day will come where the scales balance, Princess. And when it does, a missing dragon would be the kindest news. But you needn’t be here to see it.”

Fwip.

Out came a wad of parchment from beneath the duvet. The same as those destined for the hearth. Yet as I marvelled at someone whose approval rating was almost as high as mine, my eyes peered down to see the news a chin was prodding against.

“Cultists sighted outside Witschblume,” I said, reading the tiny print.

“Dragon cultists,” replied the Duchess. “Otherwise known as the modern plague.”

I joined the Duchess in a cordial frown.

Dragon cultists.

They did not exist in the Kingdom of Tirea. A mercy I gratefully accepted. But that didn’t mean their influence wasn’t seen. They came in all colours and liveries. Sometimes as knights seeking to do good in their name. Sometimes as zealots speaking on behalf of those who did not even note their existence.

But any group large enough to make a voice meant power enough to cause mischief.

“Very well. And why would these themed brigands seek to steal a dragon?”

“The short answer is that they are dumb. The long answer is that since the signing of the Queensholme Accords, dragons have lived peacefully with the residents of this realm. They are creatures of law, even if sometimes they view the law with their own definition. Yet so long as we uphold our agreement in respect to their homes and boundaries, they too extend the courtesy. Not all agree with this unproblematic state of affairs.”

“Wonderful. And I take it they’ve a hand in my missing dragon?”

“I would assume so. Coincidences are rarer than fogs without a murder in Ouzelia. That you would appear when they’re seen scurrying like rats biting at the fringes of my town is no stroke of chance. Clearly, you are meant to rescue this dragon.”

“No. I am here to have a conversation with a dragon. And depending on how agreeable he is to my unagreeable demands, I will decide whether or not he is to be rescued.”

Suddenly, the Duchess broke into a smile.

Her very first this conversation.

“Then you’ll require assistance. Particularly if cultists are involved. They worship dragons, yet they themselves are a particular brand of cockroaches, existing despite my best efforts.”

I matched her smile by lifting my own.

“Then isn’t it well I’m familiar with gently blowing away cockroaches into the breeze? I heard you have access to a heroine. Might I borrow her for directions?”

“You may. This is a problem which needs handling before the summer tourism boom. However, Elise Rowe is currently preoccupied and will be unavailable for a number of days.”

I held back a groan.

Frankly, even a few hours was too much.

“Very well … and how many days is that, exactly? Less or more than a week?”

“287 days.”

I tilted my head slightly, just about stopping my smile from catapulting all the way back to my kingdom.

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that?”

“287 days is when my heroine will be available again.”

“Is … Is this how long it usually takes for her to complete her tasks?”

“No. It usually takes 1. Her current task is unlike her others.”

“I see … well, no, I don’t. I understand she might be busy. But this is a missing dragon. Is she perhaps rescuing a different missing dragon?”

“No. She’s currently on holiday.”

I placed my face in my palms.

“... Your heroine is on holiday?”

“An overdue holiday. Elise has failed to take a single day of her legally mandatory allowance since the day she picked up her sword. As Lady Uxna informs me I may be held personally liable should Elise lodge a formal grievance, I have backdated all her missing holiday time and made it a law that she is not allowed to return to Witschblume until she has spent it.”

My grief was palpable.

This! This right here! This was why I didn’t permit my servants holidays!

If a single marble bust in the Royal Villa failed to gleam enough to distract Duke Hallingsey’s son when my mother and father conspired to have me meet him, then that was a tragedy!

This … This was less disastrous than that, but it was still a clear issue!

“Surely, that’s not permitted? What if a calamity occurs?”

“It would require a deeply rude calamity to strike when a heroine is on holiday. Ouzelia is many things, but uncivil is not one of them. Rest assured, no Great Evil will rise while she is relaxing.”

“This is more important than a Great Evil. It is my time. And I cannot put off my own busy schedule to wait for a heroine to finish lounging on a beach. Is this missing dragon not a concern?”

“It is unfortunate to the library, yes. But until his disappearance signals the end of the world, I have no obligation to recall Elise. Doing so runs its own dangers, of which I am loath to invite. My apologies, Princess, but my heroine is currently unavailable.”

I took in a deep sigh.

“Very well. Is there a different heroine I can borrow?”

“Plenty, although none quite as good as Elise. And few inclined to rescue a dragon on behalf of Witschblume. They have their own problems. But not all require a heroine to solve. If you merely desire to know where this dragon is, then instead of finding a heroine, I suggest you find a seer. The Mad Prophet should do.”

I raised my arms in exasperation.

“Who is the Mad Prophet?”

“A prophet who is mad.”

Coppelia helpfully poked my delicate waist as my grief threatened to overwhelm me.

“Oooh, I’ve heard of the Mad Prophet!” she said excitedly. “He’s completely bonkers! That’s great!”

“W-Why is that great?!”

“The more nuts they are, the better their prophecies!”

The Duchess nodded in agreement.

“He is insane, but reputably so. He has a business only a short ride away, past the road east and the Witsching River. You can’t miss him. Mostly since he’ll know you’re coming and so will be waiting. Any query concerning local cults suddenly bristling with stolen draconic power will do, I imagine.”

She gestured through the hole in the window at everything I didn’t wish to sightsee. No matter how free the admissions were, the price wouldn’t come in crowns, but my patience.

… But that’s fine!

I’d come here for a reason, and that was certainly not to falter in plain view of foreign dignitaries!

“Very well, then. I thank you for the assistance. And for the macarons. It was a pleasure to meet you, Duchess Cadence. I hope for the opportunity for us to meet again in a more formal setting.”

The Duchess reached out for another macaron.

“I’m afraid this is as formal as it gets,” she said, her voice musing. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve always been partial to tales of dragons and princesses. I look forward to knowing yours as well.”

I offered a polite smile, then a much delayed curtsy.

“... Is that so? Then I’m afraid I shall have to leave you wishing for more.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

I turned to leave, but not before scooping up a handful of macarons.

“Because this will be the shortest journey in Ouzelia.”