The receding mist gave way to a blare of sanguine light, burning into my eyes.

It wasn’t enough.

Despite the best attempts of the sun, its valour was in vain. No matter how blinding it was, the odour of an open tavern and the sounds of debauchery cut through any haze.

Upon a field of trampled grass and upturned soil which proved slim pickings even with Apple’s resourcefulness, merrymakers bumped into one another with the abandon of adventurers nursing their defeat to a cat in just too high a tree.

The layabouts of Ouzelia had gathered. And those hosting them were all too happy to take their custom.

“Dragon mead! It’s happy hour for our very own house crafted dragon approved mead!”

“Fire breath pottery! Make your own dragon pottery! The workshop is now half price!”

“The dragon pond is refilled! All our top prizes are now available! Come scoop up your lucky number for a chance to win your own friendly dragon!”

Stretching before me, dozens of pavilions were staked within the mud.

Each boasted a different ritual to lure coins from hands.

Basins of water filled with little floating dragons, only to be fished up with paddles too fragile to hold them. A bucket shaped like a dragon’s jaw, assaulted by balls tossed from afar by a hollering crowd. Bows and arrows so flimsy they could not pierce a marshmallow.

And most of all, endless stalls dedicated to safeguarding against the scourge of sobriety.

Nowhere did I hear the cry of a dragon in need … likely since it was currently indisposed.

Yes.

Amidst the fanfare and revelry, a dragon was also present.

Rising high to compete with the blackened frame of the looming mountain, it boasted a set of serrated fangs, a spiked tail, webbed wings, innumerable scales and two … yes, two sets of legs.

A dragon in every sense of the word.

With its jaw opened wide and neck elongated, it stood upon its hind legs, a great fireball ready to be unleashed upon those with the misfortune of failing to earn its favour.

Except despite its pose framed in anger, no bellowing roar or tide of scorching flames came.

Indeed, this dragon was special.

… Why, he was slightly crumpled.

Green and slightly wet, before me rose a parchment statue of what was either a legendary being of unparalleled might or a seaweed salad I’d thrown away and come back stronger. And as I craned my neck towards it, I had only one thought.

It was so … tacky!

Even Apple saw fit to snort at the sight! And for good reason!

This was no marble colossus destined to withstand the ages, but a stitched together impression of a dragon lacking any detail, its proportions skewed and its colour a single shade of pickle green.

Worst of all was the fact it actually possessed an expression.

An expression.

Something dragons lacking cheek muscles famously struggled to do. And so unable to vocalise its dissatisfaction through blistering flames, this dragon was forced to look simply confused instead.

I empathised.

This was a desecration of sculpting so complete that I was stunned every dragon in Ouzelia was not currently crying out in grief.

As it was, that task was for me alone.

“W-What is this … ?!”

I was aghast.

Why, I came here to rescue a dragon from its chains!

At most, I thought there’d be a slew of deathly traps and a string of slightly larger pianos in my path!

Instead, I was greeted by a field of drunken layabouts and an assault against good taste. I was practically reeling from the blow. If I knew it’d be this difficult, I’d have consigned the dragon to its fate.

“Ooooh~” Coppelia leaned forwards as she studied the towering parchment dragon. “The big guy is a lot smaller than when I last saw him!”

“Excuse me? Is this supposed to be your dragon?”

Coppelia poked a scale with a look of joy. It made a squishing sound.

“Yup, that’s him,” she said with a giggle. “He looks pretty rough, but I can feel the grumpiness coming through. He must have done an all nighter reading again. How do you want to rescue him?”

“From the looks of it, with fire. That’d be the only way to save his wounded pride. This is a tragedy.”

“Yeah, I think it rained recently. That’s awful. It’s really hard to make statues out of parchment.”

“That’s because it should be left to marble. As well a sculptor who had ever once laid eyes upon a dragon. Why does he look so … confused?”

“Eh, it’s not too different to how he usually is.”

I pointed at the dragon’s face.

“He has googly eyes, Coppelia.”

“Yup. That’s what happens when you read too many history books about humans and all the dumb ways they get themselves killed.”

I gasped.

I knew it! My tutors were attempting to sabotage me all along!

“I see … then it seems his situation is worse than expected. Not only is he imprisoned, but his image at his lowest has now been captured for all to mock. For a proud dragon, such indignity must strike deeper into his soul than any chains could. We must strive to rescue him at once.”

“Okie~”

Coppelia nodded, her concern for her employer hidden by her relaxed smile.

Indeed, nobody deserved to be tortured with such an ill-fitting statue, to say nothing of a loutish festival in which his image was being waylaid by the second.

As I peered around, I noted the array of dragon memorabilia on offer. All featured the same green dragon inscribed upon everything from the spilled mugs to the napkins which weren’t being used.

It was as though he’d been reduced to a mascot.

A fate worse than death.

And that meant … my reward would be all the greater!

Ohohohoho!

Indeed, no matter how bright the colours or noisy the laughter, nothing could hide the veil of machinations in the air! I could smell it like the odour seeping from beneath every upturned table!

Thus, I turned in search for the nearest source of reliable information–

Someone behind a counter.

Choosing the nearest pavilion, I dismounted from Apple so he could forage for what sparse grass remained, then made my way to the bar. Past the raucous crowd making themselves a nuisance, I found a barmaid wearing a smile as bright as her uniform, efficiently filling up as many tankards as it’d take for the hoodlums to leave her alone.

“Salutations,” I said as I approached. “I require assistance.”

The barmaid offered a smile of relief. Seeing someone not drunk was a reminder of civilisation.

“No problem! Would you like something from the bar, or have you come to redeem your tickets?”

“Tickets?”

The woman gestured at the laden shelves behind her.

All the trinkets I had no intention of buying sparkled at me, from tableware to clay figurines.

“This bar doubles up as the ticket redemption counter, where you can exchange the tickets you win for taking part in the festival.”

“My, I had no idea. In that case, I’d like to make a redemption.”

“Great! How many tickets do you have?”

“None.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not here to exchange tickets, but time. And right now, I believe I’m owed a dragon.”

I pointed at the parchment statue.

“I’m told he looks like this one. Except bigger. His name is …”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Virudaax the Cranky.”

“Virudaax the Cranky. Have you such a dragon available?”

Suddenly, the barmaid gasped.

“H-How did you know?! Virudaax the … well, I was told his name is Viradaax the Learned, but he’s our special guest star! Did someone tell you?”

“Yes. A man with a penchant for cheese. Although he didn’t inform me why an ancient green dragon would be guest starring at a festival which cannot even afford a basic 100 foot marble statue of him.”

The barmaid hummed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know why such a dragon would offer his presence to us. But the Bewitching Oracle predicted that great fortune would befall all her followers who helped organise this festival. After all, if a dragon does grant us its favour, who knows what good things will happen?”

“Few do. And certainly not this oracle. Dragons do not offer favours on a whim.”

“Hah. That might be true. But I think we’ve all got a good feeling about this. The Bewitching Oracle hasn’t let us down before!”

I raised an eyebrow towards the blissful declaration. One which earned a raising of tankards in cheer.

“Is that so? … My, then I shall endeavour to assist her. Where might I find this dragon?”

“Ah! For that, you’ll need to claim the festival grand prize.”

The barmaid pointed to the very top of the shelves.

An envelope waited upon its own cushion.

“That’s the grand ticket prize,” she said. “Each time you participate in a qualifying event or purchase a dragon themed product, you receive tickets. The first dedicated festivalgoer to amass the required amount gets an audience with our special guest star dragon. Would you like to know more?”

“Thank you. But no. I’ve neither the time nor the need. I assume the dragon is in that mountain. All I need is for you to point at which approximate part of that mountain.”

“Um, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know … and I think trying to find the dragon that way probably isn’t the best.”

“Why? Is the climb plagued by badgers?”

“I suppose there are a lot, yes. But it’s more that the mountain’s been sealed off. Only the most loyal followers of the Bewitching Oracle are allowed inside. I think she’s going through her reservation list. But if you win the grand ticket prize, you’ll be personally and safely shown directly to the dragon.”

I pursed my lips.

On one hand, amassing tickets was absurd.

On the other, Coppelia had rolled up her sleeves, nodding with more conviction than I’d ever seen.

“Out of curiosity, how many tickets will it require?”

“100,000.”

“I see … and how many tickets are gained through ordinary activities?”

“Well, for most of our games, you gain 1 ticket for taking part and 2 tickets for winning.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, utterly appalled. “How is anyone supposed to gain that many tickets in five minutes?”

“The best way is to make purchases from our stalls. 1 ticket is equivalent to 5 copper crowns.”

I started counting with my fingers.

In that case, the amount I’d need to spend was … numbers.

“There’s another way,” said the barmaid, hoping and failing to quell my horror by pointing out a contraption on the edge of the counter. “This is the Dragon Wheel. When you spin it, a ball comes out. The size indicates the quality of the prize offered. But if a gold ball comes out, you’re able to pick any prize you wish–including the grand ticket prize. Would you like to give it a spin? It’s 1 silver crown per roll.”

I was aghast. Not least because this thing looked so rustic Clarise would faint at just the sight of it!

“1 silver crown? That’s the cost of another meal I’d never remember! What are the chances of winning?”

“I’m not really too sure, but I can promise that nobody’s found the gold ball yet.”

I nodded. And then immediately turned around.

“Very well, thank you for the–”

Only to find Coppelia hopping on the spot in front of me.

“Me, me, me! I want to try the Dragon Wheel!”

“Coppelia! There is no possibility of winning through whatever poor odds exists. Gambling is the realm of bar room drunkards. We cannot allow ourselves to fall prey to such a vice.”

“No problem, I’m really lucky! You can’t lose if you only win!”

Seeing the clear confidence in her eyes, I gave a small groan.

But then … Coppelia did possess remarkably unique talents. If she could defeat me at rock, paper, scissors through nothing but outrageous luck, then perhaps she could also abuse games of chance?

A moment later, I reluctantly dipped my hand into my bottomless pouch, before giving away a precious silver crown from our important personal funds.

“Thank you!” said the barmaid brightly, all the while a coin permanently disappeared into the abyss. “Please go ahead and spin the Dragon Wheel. Once it stops, a ball will appear.”

Coppelia was already there, hand gripped against the wheel as she imbued it with all her will.

“Okay, here we go!”

“Wait.”

I stopped Coppelia with a raise of my finger.

Indeed, I would not see my money simply vanish into the abyss. Each coin was a symbol of my hardship and toil, taken from the pouches of those who sought to bar my path.

To see a single one tossed to the wayside was an insult to every bead of sweat someone else initially exerted to earn it.

That’s why … as Coppelia turned to me with a look of puzzlement, I promptly poked her in the cheek.

Ohohoho!

Indeed, here it was! The most powerful ability I had to offer!

[Princess Blessing]!

Usually reserved only for bestowing favour upon gallant knights who correctly knew the line between courtesy and too much conversation! Here was a technique honed through generations of my blood!

With a mere touch of my fingertip, I would ensure that any retainer I blessed could carve through any foe–even if it was misfortune itself!

“I have now offered my blessing. Go forward, and may you use it well in this important endeavour.”

Coppelia puffed her cheek back out, then smiled while scrunching her fist in a show of confidence.

“Okay! Leave it to me!”

And then–

She spun the wheel.

Round and round it went, drawing forth a whirring sound as it rattled against the counter. A few drunkards looked up, their faces lighting up with mild curiosity as they joined the barmaid in watching what a clockwork doll imbued with a princess’s blessing could achieve.

And the result …

Click.

Was a tiny wooden ball.

“Congratulations!” said the barmaid, a prize already in her palms. “You win a dragon themed napkin!”

Coppelia blinked at her spoils.

A completely ordinary napkin. The same as those being offered for free on the counter.

“Wooo!” She took it and held it like a trophy. “I won a thing!”

A polite smattering of applause met her satisfaction. None from myself.

After all–

I was too busy being outraged.

“E-Excuse me! I believe there’s been an error!”

“There’s been no error,” said the barmaid kindly. “The smallest type of ball came out.”

“You just said they came in different sizes!”

“Yes. However, since most of them are the small ones, this is also the most common prize.

I leaned forwards slightly. The barmaid leaned back.

“Out of curiosity, how many prizes larger than a napkin have been given out today?”

“I’m … well, I’m afraid I’ve been explicitly told that this isn’t allowed to be said.”

I pursed my lips.

Her silence was all the answer I needed.

Subterfuge.

Indeed, my [Princess Blessing] did not fail! … Or at the very least, it didn’t fail to such an extent that a reward as paltry as a napkin would be earned! By bestowing my blessing, Coppelia had earned the right to reject a better prize!

“Oh well,” said Coppelia, pretending not to care as she stuffed the napkin into her pouch. “That was still fun! All right, it’s time for me to get 100,000–”

“I will spin the wheel as well!”

“Eehh?!”

I turned to the barmaid, whose hand already carried a napkin alongside her apologetic smile.

“Um … just to let you know, we don’t do refunds.”

“A refund won’t be necessary. I will attain the gold ball.”

She offered a pained look. It was nothing compared to the faces of those who would shortly see their ill-deeds revealed.

Indeed … I knew how this worked!

There was not a gold ball to be had in this contraption! … And I would prove it!

I prepared to spin the wheel with my multi-purpose gardening instrument. A delicate breeze which might inadvertently see it fully emptied and inspected. But not before I slapped a coin against the counter.

Unlike these charlatans, I was no robber.

Clink.

The moment I did … the wheel rattled pitifully. A single click sounded before it came to a stop.

And then–

Out came a small ball covered in a coat of golden glitter.

All conversation ceased.

Only silence abounded, its din overwhelming all the noises of the backdrop. But not for long.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

“Winner!” cried the barmaid, in her hand ringing a bell which hadn’t existed moments before. “We have a winner! The festival gold ball has been found!”

A pavilion filled with eyes stared at me. Then they all widened alongside the tossing of alcohol.

“Wooooooooooooooooooo!!”

“The gold ball! Someone got the gold ball!”

“A-Amazing! What fantastic luck! I can’t believe it’s real!”

I stared in shock as the tiny thing twinkled out at me.

“O-Oho … ohohoho … ohohohohohoho!!”

A moment later, I smiled magnificently, barely covering my lips as I accepted the praise of the hollering crowd led by Coppelia’s cheering.

I-Indeed … doubt was never allowed to fester in my heart!

Fortune doesn’t favour the bold, but the princess! Why, I was a walking blessing! The fact that I didn’t actually touch anything was irrelevant … right?

As the sounds of euphoria filled the air, I was alerted to a small cough by the barmaid.

“Now, I understand you’ve already expressed what you’d like, but I also need to point out the others for formality’s sake. We do have a selection of other high-grade prizes as well!”

She gestured towards the things on the top shelf, each less appealing than the other. Porcelain and a scattering of jewellery shined with a false gloss, their lack of value betrayed by my studious eyes.

All except for one thing.

A bright red cover, embossed with a gold title.

A Court Lady’s Indiscretion, Vol. 1.

My smile slowly faded as my mind turned to confusion instead.

“... Excuse me, but why is such a slovenly book I’ve never read deemed a high-grade prize? It can be found anywhere due to its overwhelming and well deserved popularity.”

“Ah, this?” The barmaid turned to it, her smile lighting up with admiration. “This one is special for two reasons. The first is that it’s a 1st edition. The second is that it’s signed by the author.”

My mouth widened.

Even more so as she carefully flipped the cover open without removing it from the shelf.

There upon the first page was a signature so rare I did not even know of its existence. It was something even royalty could not easily procure.

“Is ... Is it authentic?” I asked, my voice barely a gasp.

Suddenly, Coppelia leaned forwards just past my shoulder.

“Hmm. That matches what I know. I’ve only seen it once before. It’s really rare, she never signs anything by demand, only on special occasions.”

Then, Coppelia turned to me with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“But you know, a signature is just a scrawl of ink in a book that's already scrawls of ink. Meanwhile, a ticket straight to the big guy means a guided tour directly to the reason you’re here. One who owns a library. I bet he could give you autographed books if you really want them. Even without that, it’s pretty much a choice between doing things the easy way or the hard way. And the hard way definitely involves a mountain. Pretty clear cut choice, huh?”

I gave a slow nod, my shoulders falling.

“Of course. You are right. As much as I desire such a thing for purely novelty purposes in the knowledge that someone other than myself would like it, I came here for a reason, and I will not be distracted no matter how rare or unique the prize.”

“Great! Let’s go rescue the big guy!”

“Indeed, we will.”

Thus, I offered the waiting barmaid a smile.

Moments later, I was leaving the counter with a book held in my arms.

“Regrets?” asked Coppelia between her bouts of laughter.

“None whatsoever. Come, let us climb a mountain.”