Much was said about the heroes of Ouzelia.

And when I found out who had said them, I’d exile them to Ouzelia so they could correct themselves.

Because far from being an insufferable avatar of selflessness, the man before me was simply insufferable.

And now he was brandishing his sword like a child with a kite.

He twirled it, tossed it and caught it on the back of hand like a tavern performer seeking loose crowns.

The shrieks from the watching maidens came up at once, drowning out any questions regarding why this self-proclaimed hero felt the need to draw his weapon. Not least because doing so was a public health hazard.

The sword shone like an aurora.

Even in the midst of a balmy afternoon, it left trails of light behind as it was thrown in the air before its pommel was balanced upon the tip of a pinky. Magic and something even deeper entangled it like the clouds coiling around my bedroom tower, dense and inescapable.

A sword as ancient as the dragons it was meant to slay.

One embellished not with runes or gemstones, but with history itself.

“A Sword of Heroism,” said the knight, spinning his weapon like a baton. “Forged in times past, it is as much a weapon as it is a badge of office. An impressive thing to behold, no?”

The throng of admirers answered as they raised their voices like a crashing wave.

He offered them an acknowledging smile. The greatest insult yet. To spend even a moment distracted while accosting me was a capital crime, no matter the land. And lesser, but still severe, was assuming I could be moved in much the same manner as those behind me.

Indeed, I only had a single emotion.

Outrage.

“I do not care one whit about you or any trinkets you carry!” I said, gesturing past him. “I care only about proceeding from Point A to Point C! … Do you know where we are now?”

“... Point B?”

“No, this is still Point A! I intend to skip Point B altogether–and you are preventing that! Are you an actual hero, or just someone who helps attract away the moths with that sword of yours?”

“Those two roles are not mutually exclusive,” he said with a good-natured chuckle. “As a blessed, sanctified, ordained and certified hero, it is my calling to attract all manner of life towards me, from the fawns in springtime to the giant moths which plague me at night. Yet when I can see past their innumerable wings, I see also the fair maidens who seek my assistance. Of which one is now before me.”

“And how does drawing your sword assist me, exactly? Will the dragon also be attracted to it?”

“Stranger things have happened. But for now, it is merely to inform you that of all the dangers you would face, the sword you see before you fails to match even a fraction of them.”

I didn’t bother holding back my groan.

Here I was, the busiest person in two realms … and I was being waylaid by a hero!

Why couldn’t it have been bandits?! At least then I wouldn’t need to wear a look of such grief that it was now likely permanently etched in place! That was awful! I needed other expressions as well!

… Sometimes!

“Sir Garlic, I am extremely–”

“Sir Gardrin.”

“My apologies. Sir Garlic, I am extremely busy. Unlike you, I do not have time to dawdle on public bridges, waiting for the first hurried maiden to harass for the time she lacks to give. I have to find a missing dragon, extort him for all his wealth, and then hope my bottomless pouch truly is bottomless and I don’t need to go seeking refunds from trolls. I do not have time for … whatever this is!”

He offered a professional smile in response, his feelings clearly ambivalent towards my urgent need to depart from this land of oddballs and vagrant heroes as swiftly as possible.

“Oh? I happen to know quite a few trolls. They’re very reasonable, and would give you a fair appraisal if you’re curious about any of your magical items. Would you like me to point the way?”

“No! I do not need a troll! I need a dragon! Either point me where I must go or move aside at once!”

“Certainly. Provided that you pass my test of worth. It would be truly devastating if a rare adventurer from afar managed to accidentally lose themselves in a pit worm’s trap. Ouzelia is a land as splendid as it is dangerous. Should you wish to traverse it, then you must first prove yourself capable.”

It certainly was splendid.

Why, nowhere else would I come to view the bureaucracy of the Adventurer’s Guild in a favourable light. For all their distressing paperwork, I’d happily sign a waiver in Coppelia’s name again if it meant disregarding this self-proclaimed hero’s brazen attempt at sabotage.

“I will not humour any test,” I said, before gesturing to my side. “For any holes in the ground I may come across, I will evade by virtue of my loyal handmaiden, whose knowledge of her homeland is second only to her willingness to immediately slap aside any diplomatically protected hero while I pretend to see nothing.”

I waited for the [Coppelia Slap].

It didn’t come. I turned at once, appalled that I’d need to make my suggestion even less subtle.

Oddly, only a vacant spot was beside me. And so I continued turning … all the way until I found her amongst the gaggle of maidens, her fluffy golden hair bouncing as she darted amidst the crowd.

“Hey, did you see that?” said Coppelia loudly, one hand covering her mouth while the other pointed towards the hoodlum. “The hero just handed over a bag of gold. Isn’t it a bit creepy that he’s trying to earn a young maiden’s favour with money?”

“Was … Was that gold? I had no idea …”

“I’m also pretty sure she said no, and now the guy’s drawn his hero’s sword like he wants to fight her! What’s with that? Isn’t that totally strange?”

“Y-Yes, it is a bit unexplained, isn’t it … ”

“By the way, I heard the hero’s actually married. And also divorced. Twice.”

Gasps filled the air at once. Including from me.

Why, I could scarcely believe it! Rather than staying by my side, Coppelia was instead entertaining herself by sowing discord amongst this hero’s most ardent admirers!

… I nodded, then returned to the man whose expression was scribbled with grief.

“I am not married!” he cried out, directly towards the whispering maidens as his horse neighed against the sudden jolt. “... Or divorced!”

I offered the twice divorced philanderer a heavy frown.

“And yet you seek to raise your sword against a maiden. An act so egregious even my low expectations have been shattered.”

“I do not intend to do any such thing,” he said, his tone ever so slightly indignant. “My sword shall never harm those who mean no ill towards this good realm. It is not a weapon, but a shield.”

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

“Then I suggest you donate it to someone more suitable to hold it. I am passing you by.”

The man sat up a little straighter, his eyes struggling to not glance at a crowd whose chattering now loomed larger than my shadow.

“Should you wish to pass me, you must first pass my sword,” he declared, loud enough for all to hear. “Yet you needn’t fear, for in this test only I shall be at risk of harm. Strike me a single time, and I shall yield all the fields and mountains behind me for you to traverse.”

Suddenly, I blinked at the hero.

“... Is that it?” I queried. “I merely need to strike you? … With no diplomatic repercussions? For free?”

“I’m not certain where cost comes into this,” he replied, his tone stiff even as his smile bloomed alongside the sudden hushing of the gossip. “But yes, I shall hold no grudges against you. This is a challenge of my own making, after all.”

I leaned slightly forwards.

“Truly?”

“Truly.” The hero nodded confidently, then raised both arms out, sword thrust invitingly to the side. “For you cannot harm me, no matter how often or hard you strike. Your sword cannot pass mine. Yet even if it does, a hero’s dexterity–”

“Poke.”

The hero blinked.

Then, he looked down at Starlight Grace poking his silver pauldron.

“Ohhohohohhoho!!” I raised my other hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. “Is that it?! To whack away until I strike you?! You who is both directly before me and utterly immobile on a horse?! Is this a test to see if I merely have functioning elbows?! There is greater challenge in reaching for the cold side of my pillow!”

The hero’s mouth widened. And for good reason.

Quite aside from the fact that his test of worth could be passed by anybody with arms, my sword was far superior.

Indeed, even against a sword held by heroes, neither its design nor its history was any less! Or rather, since my sword was held exclusively by princesses and queens, that made it far more impressive! Neither a single farmer, nor a strange being in a lake had ever besmirched it!

“I wasn’t ready,” he said, his arms quickly falling by his sides.

I gave the cursory roll of my eyes.

“Of course you weren’t … and when exactly would you be ready? Tomorrow, perhaps?”

He smiled. And then held up his sword in a guarding posture.

“Now,” he declared, his eyes narrowing. “You may–”

“Poke.”

Once again, the hero looked down at the sight of my sword poking his shoulder armour.

This time, I didn’t bother hiding my smile–even if it was far more than he deserved.

“Ohhohohohohoho!! I see that coming up with meaningful challenges isn’t required to become a hero! Why, if you’ve no intention of striking back, even a child could swing a sword until you falter! … Yet it is simply embarrassing that you wouldn’t parry even a single strike!”

For a moment, the hero could only gawk at the fatal absurdity in a challenge where one only needed to flail until something struck. Attacking was significantly easier than defending. All the more so if the opponent was clearly more used to fighting off the attention of maidens than those with swords.

Then, the man jumped off his horse.

Leaping away with a motion as fluid as it was highly unnecessary, he settled himself in a defensive posture by his steed’s side. Gone was the smile and the unshakable confidence. As he raised his sword, I saw less a hero and more a common knight preparing for a duel.

“Once more,” he declared, his brows creasing. “I am ready now.”

I gave a tiny groan.

Then, I dismounted from Apple.

Charitably obliging this man’s incessantness, I raised my sword and slowly approached for his benefit, clearly telegraphing where I was going to strike for the third time. This time, I would accept no complaints.

Just as he would accept no sense of chivalry.

For as I prepared to poke once more–

“[Cresting Glare].”

The light from his sword grew.

Like a sun igniting from a hearth, it was a dazzling glow to burn away the irises of every maiden unfortunate enough to look upon it. I was no exception. As a burning light filled my eyes, all I last saw was a satisfied smile devoid of shame.

“Take all the time you need,” said a cheerful voice, clearly moving along with its owner.

I could scarcely believe it.

It … It was an appalling display!

A hero’s powers … used no differently than the mischief of a child!

Yet what need did I have for sight, when ignoring the whims of knights was what I did as standard?

Indeed, it mattered not how brightly his weapon glowed, for I was a princess. And blinding myself in the face of their smiles and lack of tact was something I did voluntarily.

Ohohoho … truly now, did this man think he was the first knight to make an outrageous request of me?

Please. I spent my days navigating the halls of the Royal Villa while diligently avoiding every relentless favour asked of me … especially when most of them concerned delivering a message to Florella!

Naturally, I always obliged, sparing no detail regarding the impropriety of our knights in my letters.

They were all shameless to a fault. And this one was no different.

But I was representing my kingdom. And I could hardly allow it to be said that I was not generous.

“Ohhohoho … be glad, for I shall accept your impropriety for enthusiasm,” I said as I angled my sword against the light. “A token for your persistence, then.”

And thus–

I struck Starlight Grace forward.

Not as a sword. But rather as a quill.

For if I could find the parchment beneath my duvet in the dead of night, then I could most certainly find a silver breastplate. And this time, the message I’d be delivering wasn’t for my sister, but for all the innocent maidens of Ouzelia.

“... W-What?”

A voice wrapped in shock met me.

It was much too early. For as my sword found the touch of silver … I smiled.

And then–

I began to write.

“Rejoice, for as your gift, I shall offer to you my latest masterpiece! … Life tempered beneath the night of a duvet, as verses forged in celestial ink! Poetry Form, 2nd Stance … [Midnight Muse]!”

Ohhohohohohoho!!

Here it was!

The ultimate favour a princess could grant!

The dream of all knights and chivalrous rogues everywhere!

… To be gifted with a personal poem by a princess’s hand!

With a flash of inspiration, I brought forth all the talent that allowed me to fill up half the royal library despite the fact that anything written before the age of 10 should be automatically set aflame!

As I smiled, so too did my fabled blade as it etched a poem destined to be remembered as long as this hooligan hero’s joy!

After a moment, the light faded, replaced by the face of an extremely shocked man.

He peered down, then promptly joined my blinks of confusion as we both assessed the pristine nature of his silver armour … all the way until he raised his Sword of Heroism against the sunlight.

His mouth widened at the words etched upon the length of the shining blade.

Oily skin and twice divorced, blocks a bridge with no remorse.

Married now but vows fall short, harassing maidens his favoured sport.

Hmmmmmm.

This was … yes, very hmmmmmmmm.

My masterpiece wasn’t written upon his disposable breastplate.

Rather … it somewhat appeared to be engraved upon his Sword of Heroism.

Even fine as the lettering was, each word shone with its own brilliance, proudly gleaming like a constellation within that aurora of magic.

An audible hush fell over us. The hero was unmoving. As were the maidens around us.

As I peeked behind me, all I saw were hands covering mouths. Eyes wide with shock and steadily growing horror met me.

With one exception–

“Ahhahahahhaahahahaha~!”

Coppelia was doubled over.

Her laughter monopolised the air, a hand slapping her knee as the other pointed towards my latest masterpiece currently scribbled upon a hero’s vaunted sword.

Now when it flashed before the eyes of his foes, they would meet their demise knowing their wicked schemes had come undone by a miscreant.

And that … was surely an upgrade!

O-Ohohoho!

Indeed! I’d … I’d just improved a hero’s most priceless relic!

The added indignation felt by his foes was only extra justice!

Did it matter that I’d just vandalised … no, modified a national treasure? Of course not! Just as a blade could be reforged, sharpened or enchanted, so too could it be subtly improved by the delicate and not-at-all accidental touch of a princess’s words from the heart!

My words of poetry were more powerful than any enchantment! All who ever looked away with faces lined with trauma in the knowledge they’d never experience better said so!

Why, this hero clearly thought the same!

After a moment, I slowly leaned forwards and waved my hand before his unblinking face.

No words came from his lips.

His expression was still and empty, his endless stare fixed upon his upgraded Sword of Heroism.

I gave it a moment’s thought, then climbed atop Apple.

And for absolutely no reason at all … I reached into my bottomless pouch, took out a silver crown and laid it upon his horse’s saddle.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Garlic,” I said as I promptly began to ride past. “I wish you well in your quests ahead, and hope also that your improved sword is to your satisfaction. In the rare event it is not, I’ve left a small donation for which you may purchase a bar of soap. It is possible the words may scrub off after several centuries. I suggest cold water so that you do not scald your skin.”

I peeked back to see if he’d begun moving yet.

He hadn’t.

Thus, I tugged on Apple’s reins to make him trot a little faster.

And for the first time, it almost seemed like he did.