A sword gleamed in the distance.

One which matched my own.

Dawning Summer.

A blade as famed as it was delicate. Said to blaze with the willpower of its wielder, it was like a blacksmith’s hammer made sharp.

Chosen from amongst the few fabled weapons in the Royal Villa’s vault not to be obviously cursed, it was the ceremonial sword Grandmother had opted to wield as both her badge of authority and her posture stick when those around her allowed their backs to droop.

There were few places she went without it.

After all, as terrifying as she was with a cane, not all problems could be solved with a wooden stick. Opening the letters Mother sent querying where she was and that if she did not receive a reply within 15 minutes she would assume she was dead was one of them.

Grandmother kept a pile of the letters on her person for use as napkins.

So why …

Why was her sword in Ouzelia?!

I was beyond horrified.

I came to Ouzelia expecting to find a stolen dragon. And because I was wonderful I did. Yet to find Dawning Summer as well was a gift too many.

Indeed, for Grandmother, whose sword could only be pried from her immeasurably tight grip used to injure the digits of so many foreign diplomats that they immediately conceded to her demands to avoid shaking hands with her, it could only mean one thing …

That after all this time, the worst case scenario had finally happened.

Here was definitive proof … that my grandmother, Queen Mother and former ruling monarch of the Kingdom of Tirea …

Had also visited Ouzelia.

My entire body began to shake as despair threatened to overwhelm me.

This … This was beyond my worst expectations … !

For one member of the royal family to be here was a grave misfortune …

But two?!

We would never live this one down!

Here was a blot to permanently stain the history books! How were we going to explain two catastrophes worthy of our presence? That was simply far too farfetched. Even if the world was at threat of being split like a dry macaron, it wasn’t going to stop our nobility edging slightly away from us in our own soirées!

The humiliation … it would be the end of us!

“Heeheeheehee~”

Indeed … such was the gravity of the situation, Coppelia could hardly wait for the strike against her!

Made delirious by the shame we’d face if we failed to sweep this affair beneath the carpet, the shadows surrounding her scythe deepened as it readied to swing.

Yet, buoyed by the weapon she had no right to possess, her opponent neither turned nor slowed.

Fleur simply thrust Dawning Summer towards the waiting scythe. A flagrant disregard to the repair costs being invited. As wondrous as the swords of my family were, Coppelia’s weapon was less a thing of war and more a concoction vomited from a demon’s fantasy.

As she swung, it was with the motion of a farmer with a field to reap and a single moment to do it.

And then–

“[Spiteful Glare].”

Dawning Summer burst to life with a flash of sunlight.

The scythe hacked with enough force to decapitate a chimney. It found only the singed end of a previously pink strand of hair.

A smile of appreciation came in response, followed by the tip of a sword now wreathed in an amber hue.

Coppelia wasn’t to be undone.

After all, no dazzling glare could harm her when eyes had already become accustomed to the sight of my glowing skin each and every day. She twisted away as the sword and its illegal wielder passed, then swung her scythe with enough force to cleave the trailing light as she pirouetted on the spot.

Her opponent chose not to receive it.

The librarian skipped ahead. Far enough away for the scythe to only disturb the back of her pink hair. But she didn’t bother turning.

Instead, she shovelled Dawning Summer into the ground.

Earth and stone broke as easily as sand on a beach.

“[Spiteful Dust].”

Dragging the sword around with her, she sent the shards sweeping upwards. A volley of jagged daggers flung with the force of a ballista directly into Coppelia’s eyes.

They broke upon the scythe, the twirling blade forming a barrier greater than any shield. Shards turned to powder as a fresh plume of dust filled the cavern. Yet when it was swept aside with a final, dismissive cleave, there was not a hint of that gleaming sword waiting before her.

“[Spiteful Gouge].”

It was now coming from above.

Coppelia used the shaft of her scythe to swipe the air above her.

It caught the sword an inch from her face. More than enough to bat aside both weapon and wielder. A flaring of a pinafore dress followed, the frills raised as Fleur neatly landed, before she immediately launched herself again towards where a scythe waited in expectation.

I was aghast.

[Spiteful Glare], [Spiteful Dust], [Spiteful Gouge] …

In her hands was a weapon which could melt winter!

Instead, she was using it to perform such underhanded attacks that even brigands loitering on the sides of the road would baulk! To strike exclusively at the eyes was a style of fighting which trampled upon even the etiquette found in bar room brawls and the bottom of sewers!

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Indeed, there could be no doubt …

This … This was Grandmother’s signature swordsmanship!

A style of combat so unchivalrous and unvirtuous, only those whose lifelong ambition was to survive at all costs employed it! To poke exclusively and repeatedly at the eyes was a defiance to codes of swordsmanship only former queens who no longer needed to pretend at sympathy could employ!

I was horrified.

Such a regal style of swordsmanship was being used by a librarian!

That alone was a disgrace … and yet this was more than royal appropriation!

Why, each eye gouge was evidence of Grandmother’s presence! I could practically see her visage looming over this girl, her wrinkled fingers gleefully lifting the marionette beneath her!

“Ghhhrk.”

And then … I heard it.

The sound of that most forbidden skill.

One which neither knight nor brigand would have any defence against. And one no clockwork librarian should be able to mimic. For never in recorded history had any member of royalty chosen to use this most black of abilities and left their opponent with their memories intact, knowing that doing so was to take a guillotine to one’s pride.

“[Spiteful Spit–”

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!

“[Spring Breeze]!!”

Pwoooomph.

Hearing the phlegm being sucked into the back of Fleur’s mouth, I raised Starlight Grace and swished in an act of desperation. A gust carried all the way from the kingdom about to be irrevocably besmirched came in answer alongside the sound of Coppelia forgetting her opponent.

“Wheeeeeeee~”

Smiling in joy, Coppelia sunk her scythe into the ground, her hair fluttering like a golden flag behind her as she anchored herself in place.

The other clockwork doll was less appreciative.

Rather than enjoying the forgotten breeze beneath the heart of this mountain, she clenched her teeth as an altogether new expression graced her face.

“Hnnnnnnnnnngghhhhhh!”

Centering her weight, she deemed it appropriate to finally drop to her knees, hugging the sword in her grip as she continually slid away.

When she looked up again, it was with eyes hidden behind a layer of frayed pink hair.

She blew a tuft away from her brows and squinted at me.

“Hm. I wondered how Coppelia was able to pass my oracle without losing an arm. You are no heroine, but I see you match them in being a nuisance.”

“I am a guest,” I declared, knowing she’d forgotten. “It is my role to be a nuisance. Just as it is yours to answer my every unreasonable demand. Your shins should be aching from the kowtowing required to make me dismiss you.”

The librarian stood up. Her poor impression only continued to drop.

“As a servant of the Hidden Library, my devout examples of subservience are reserved exclusively for my master. All the more so when he resumes his place atop a mountain of gold coloured respect carved from all the treasuries of the world.”

My mouth widened at once.

“Excuse me? Can you say that once more? But without including the world in there?”

“I don’t see why you’re surprised. I’ve already explained my objective.”

“Yes, and it’s as unworkable as a bowl of unshelled pistachios. But I at least assumed any plotting was to be kept to your own well defined borders. Do you mean to say this ancient dragon is to acquire treasure by laying waste to the fair pastures beyond this absurd realm?”

“Well, not in so many words. But yes.”

I didn’t bother hiding my groan.

Here I thought this was just a ridiculous scheme to drag a dragon out of bed! But it’s actually less than that! It’s simply a ridiculous scheme! Period!

“Unacceptable.” I pointed to the ground. Repeatedly. “Do you see this? This is yours. Ouzelia exists for a reason. That is to keep the worst of world ending plots contained. You’ve no right to bring so much as an earthworm outside, much less a dragon. Why would you drag the rest of us into this?”

“For the simple reason that all the wealth in Ouzelia is already being sat upon by other dragons. And their displeasure should only be invited at the end of the tale, not the beginning.”

The clockwork librarian idly swished Dawning Summer around her like a conductor with a stick.

“Lissoine, Weinstadt, the Summer Kingdoms … so many lesser realms, yet all filled with wealth and no dragons to defend them. With a single sweep of his wings, my master will carve out a hoard great enough to fund the library’s new acquisitions and staffing costs for at least another two centuries. And not a single one of our neighbours will have cause for complaint.”

I stepped back, horrified at the insinuation. The grip around my sword tightened.

“H-How dare you! You would seek to use this dragon to plunder my homeland over your own! … However, know that we need no dragon to defend our wealth! The valour of our knights and the high pitched screaming of our peasants will be enough to stave off even the greatest of–”

“No, your kingdom is safe.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you were from Tirea?”

“... Yes?”

The clockwork librarian’s smile wilted. Her eyes clouded over in sympathy.

“Oh. Well, you can rest assured I’ve no intention of goading my master into pillage your kingdom. It seems needlessly cruel. At most, he’ll fly over it on the way to Weinstadt.”

I blinked.

And then–

“H-How dare you not seek to plunder my kingdom! It is a place of breathtaking riches and unclaimed treasures the likes of which have never been known!”

“Yes, well, once they are known, I’ll be sure to consider seizing them. But until then, I really cannot in good conscience rob you of what few sticks you have.”

“Sticks?!” I jabbed my sword towards her. My gleaming, shimmering, enchanted sword. “Does the permanent shine from my kingdom’s artifacts blind you?! … Look, look right here! Exhibit A! Starlight Grace, a fabled sword wreathed in magic and history!”

Then, I pointed towards the other sword.

“Exhibit B! Another fabled sword wreathed in magic and history!”

Fleur lifted Dawning Summer, tapping her head with the flat of the blade.

“... Oh, this thing is from Tirea? I had no idea. I’ve been using it as a scalp massager.”

I smiled.

My, how unexpectedly wonderful.

Clarise would soon have her own clockwork doll to inspect and Coppelia was saved from several sleepless nights of locking her windows and double nailing down her floorboards.

Everyone was happy.

And I would be as well, once I’d woken up to see my bedroom ceiling.

“Yes, that thing is a treasured artifact of my kingdom. And I assure you it is worth more than all the riches you could pillage all bundled together … how, then, did you come to steal it?”

“That’s an awful accusation to make, given the hospitality I’ve offered.”

“The only hospitality I require is your prostration, the return of that sword and your creaking cogs as you help move this gold as compensation for my lost time including now.”

I thought for a moment.

“... Also, I should inquire about the wrinkled old lady you callously robbed.”

The librarian raised an eyebrow.

“If you must know, I didn’t rob anyone. This sword was given to me as payment.”

“Payment? Payment for what? Your jests?”

“This is no jest. I was alerted to a disturbance in the specially designated reserve outside the library. Upon investigation, I found an elderly human woman felling vast quantities of our treants. I initially assumed she was illegally logging, but soon discovered she was actually searching for a suitable wood grain to use for a new cane.”

I covered my eyes with an arm and groaned.

A hand wasn’t enough. Not for this.

To trespass into another realm was one thing … but to brazenly cut down their murderous treants?

Why, if Grandmother wanted a cane fashioned exclusively from their enchanted branches, she needed at least a thin veneer of plausible deniability first!

She should have ordered one of the squires to do it for her! Menial and highly dangerous labour in the guise of a chivalric quest is what they were there for!

“I … I see … and did she find a suitable wood grain, at least?”

“No,” stated Fleur simply. “The forest is protected. The treants’ habitat doubly so. I requested she depart after paying restitution. As she had no funds, she opted to part with her sword instead.”

She paused.

“... She was quite indifferent about it.”

Grandmother?!

What were you doing?!