The cavern sparkled with the promise of crowns.

The light from my sword fought against the bright glare of luminous moonlilies growing like moss upon every surface. Even a hundred lanterns would have dimmed in comparison. The flowers lit up a carpet of dust hovering in the air like snow, yet it was the veins of silver which glowed the brightest.

They streaked across the wall like a beautiful constellation.

A starry sky which perfectly reflected my smile as I imagined rolling in the many pillows I’d be commissioning as my first purchase. I could already see it now. A pit so deep that my knights would have to learn to swim in order to retrieve me.

And if anybody asked me how deep that actually was, well–

I could simply point at this.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Before me was a quarry stretching all the way to the end of the cavern.

A sight which would cause the Miner’s Guild to tremble in fear.

Unlike the quarries they made and then snoozed in while dreaming of the funds they were claiming from the Royal Treasury, this one was being dug until the sound of labour could permanently bounce from wall to wall.

More goblins than I could count did their part to exude unhealthy amounts of sweat as they ignored every health and safety regulation which wasn’t explicitly written on a sign.

Pickaxes and shovels noisily worked to trigger an avalanche. Wooden platforms creaked despite the absence of any weight. Laden carts went their own way without being pushed. And the smell of ordinary goblin cooking wafted from a cauldron in order to threaten those with the least productivity.

Naturally, this was unacceptable.

As much as I enjoyed my kingdom’s infrastructure being expanded upon, the fact remained that this was as illegal as any dwarven mining colony. If anybody wished to cooperate with my family, it needed to be above board. That meant a banquet more lavish than anyone could pay, promises nobody would keep and bags of gold being tossed at us at the same breathless rate as lies told by our nobility.

However, while I had my complaints, it wasn’t regarding the work ethic on display.

The carts running over the feet of unobservant goblins were filled to the brim–and not all of them with soil and stone. More than once, I caught the glint of silver being deliberately hoisted away to where the shadows were thickest.

Where they were going was an issue. But one which would only be a problem for the goblins tasked with bringing them back.

Eventually.

Because right now, I had other concerns … such as staring in disbelief at the only possible thing which could draw my attention away from a crater filled with goblins.

Caban’s Tavern.

Yes.

The more I looked, the more my eyes narrowed.

There, written plainly upon a lopsided sign, was an ordinary tavern.

Notched wooden walls. Crumbling stone. Window shutters which didn’t fully join properly. A door which spilled out all the warmth from within. And a chimney which was even more wonky than the sign.

Three floors high if including the rooftop, it was the most mundane tavern I’d ever seen. The exact same tavern which doubtless possessed a creaking ceiling already filled with dancing mice.

And it was here.

In the bottom of a mountain.

The fact that it was so ordinary only made it even more out of place.

All the more so as the sound of hooliganism was also being emitted from within.

The sound of sporadic cackling was mixed with the noise of clinking cups. The orange glow of a hearthfire from the windows fought against the glow of the surrounding moonlilies, ensuring that every errant adventurer knew where to relax after a day of criminal enterprising.

It even had a stable.

Complete with hay … and no horses.

I simply stared.

There was nothing which could be said.

At least not by me.

Instead, both Coppelia and I slowly turned to the commoner in our midst.

His explanation came in the form of his wide mouth imitating a hungry goldfish. His eyes were somehow even wider. They stared unendingly at the sight of a tavern so commonplace that were this the streets of Marinsgarde, I’d be struggling to remember if it was the one I’d left Apple in.

After a moment, he simply nodded.

“... Wow,” he said.

I waited for more.

That was it.

“Excuse me,” I said, pointing at the sign. “But this is your name, yes?”

“I think so.”

“I see … and how is business?”

The man blinked.

“I dunno. I never knew I owned a tavern. Damn. I actually made it. I need to tell my mother.”

He paused.

“... I’m not really sure about the name, though,” he admitted, leaning back slightly. “It feels a bit, I don’t know … self-centered?”

“Is it?” I tilted my head in thought. “... It feels appropriate, though? If you’re to establish your own enterprise, I see no reason why you shouldn’t use your own name. That makes it clearer who to tax.”

“Yeah … Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Coppelia leaned forwards with a smile of utmost enthusiasm.

“Uwaaah~ your tiny kingdom sure knows its priorities, huh? No matter where you go, your peasants can still get drunk!”

“My kingdom isn’t tiny,” I duly replied. “It’s as vast as the cumulonimbus clouds which often rise from Clarise’s observatory. This … This is simply a measure of its popularity. To expect guests in even the most farflung of locations is proof of its burgeoning tourism industry.”

“Your kingdom sure is popular with goblins then, huh? It sounds like a full house.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

I sighed into my palms.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

A moment later, I threw up my arms in exasperation.

“... Why is there a tavern here?! Was it necessary to build this?! If an adventurer wants to scheme in my kingdom, does it have to involve alcohol?!”

The commoner gave a small cough.

He followed it up with an apologetic shrug.

“Home sweet home, I guess.”

I let out a small groan.

Then, I clenched my fists and hardened my resolve.

To walk into the midst of a common tavern was frankly worse than any cave I could explore. But while I could accept scheming, plotting and conniving, I couldn’t accept this.

An illegal drinking establishment.

That’s right!

How … How dare this woman flagrantly seek to evade my kingdom’s laws by hiding a tavern beneath the ground!

It was utterly brazen–no, it was brazen and irresponsible!

Taverns were as profitable as they were rowdy! That meant great care needed to be considered before any new ones were built! There was a delicate ecosystem between taxes and the number of drunkards who debased my streets! Did she think I wouldn’t notice the vomit just because it occurred underground? My sense of smell was so sensitive that goblins learned to wrinkle their noses from me!

“This has gone beyond anything I could have imagined,” I said, frowning at the inviting façade of a common tavern. “Had I known my kingdom was so imperilled, I wouldn’t have tarried for even a single crêpe … I will not stand by it!”

Coppelia hopped in joy, clapping her hands.

“Wooooo! Let’s bother all the goblins who are trying to relax!”

I nodded at once.

Frankly, an adventurer running a tavern did nothing for their reputation. There was no scenario which didn’t end up with everything on fire. And while that didn’t usually concern me, it did if it came at the cost of the Royal Treasury.

Anybody who wished to open a tavern needed permission and more permits than they had tables. To sidestep this was the most disgraceful of crimes!

Thus, I strolled over at once.

Creaaaaaak.

A door promptly groaned as though it’d always been here. As I stepped inside, I was welcomed by an even more familiar sight.

Utter stillness.

The chatter stopped at once.

Mugs, bottles and bowls filled with brown stuff froze in hands as a common room fully occupied with goblins stared at me. The silence was complete. And no wonder. For some reason, even the unidentifiable stains on the floor were there.

That alone was worth more grief than words could offer. Yet as every pair of eyes stared at me, memories of a night I’d walked into a bar to similarly stunned fanfare flashed in my mind.

Indeed, my presence in any drinking establishment was likely to cause nothing less than stunned confusion over why I’d threaten my soles.

… Fortunately, I wasn’t the same princess who’d last climbed down the oak tree outside my bedroom!

I was different now. Prettier. Wiser. Younger.

And that meant I understood subtlety.

This time … I wouldn’t introduce myself!

“You.” I clicked my fingers towards the nearest goblin. “I’m searching for an errant adventurer. I’m told she wears a magic hat and is now officially your leader. I’m here to remove her. Where can she be found?”

The goblin blinked at me.

He looked at the mug of frothy alcohol in his hand, sniffed it, then looked up once more.

… Seeing I was still there, he then slowly pointed at the nearby stairs.

“Thank you,” I said with a warm smile. “Please enjoy your drinks.”

I left the common room filled with overwhelming emotion at my gentleness behind as I swiftly made my way up the stairs, all the while Coppelia merrily waved and the commoner nodded awkwardly at every other goblin. A moment later, I swiftly climbed to the 2nd floor, pausing to see a smaller group of goblins busying themselves with arranging furniture. I pointed upstairs queryingly. They stared before slowly nodding.

And that was that.

I made my way up to the top floor of the tavern.

A moment later, I smiled as the end of this needless affair awaited me.

There she was.

The only human amidst a tavern filled with relaxing goblins.

And also a proprietor clearly waiting for her income to settle.

She stood in the middle of a floor barren of everything other than a corner sparsely furnished with a bed more narrow than a sofa, a desk rescued from a bonfire and a stool borrowed from the bar downstairs. Only a single potted fern served as decoration.

Facing a window with her back turned, she was surveying a map in her hands, blind to both our presence and the lack of amenities on this floor.

She also wore a ghastly headpiece upon her auburn hair. A band of iron that’d been stretched, bashed or chewed to such an extent it now retained value as a mocking gift.

“Is that her … ?” I asked, turning behind me.

The adventurer crouching on the stairs nodded.

“Yeah, that’s her,” he said quietly, his brows dented. “The lady of the hour, right there.”

“Hm.” I leaned forwards slightly. “She seems a bit … plain.”

“Well, in Miss Harten’s defence, we aren’t used to being the bad guys.”

“Clearly not. If she’s going to insist on requisitioning a tribe of goblins to do her ill-deeds, then she needs to at least look the part. Where is the sceptre? The cloak which runs through multiple rooms? The hissing at the tired peons who aren’t quite sweating enough?”

“I’m guessing that’s the next stage. Which is good. We’ve still a chance to resolve this the right way. I’ve a suggestion, if I may.”

“Oh? Please go ahead.”

The man straightened his knees by half an inch. Determination shone in his eyes.

“Right, well, I reckon we can leave the questions for later–once Miss Harten is free of that crown. I don’t want anyone to be hurt over this, least of all one of my own. Of course, the same goes for these goblins as well. So I’ll try to swipe that headpiece without any of us coming to blows. I can be subtle when I want. Not quite sure what’ll happen when I do, but I’m confident I can run faster than any spell at my back. And if I’m caught, well … that still means I’ll have a chance to roll the conversation dice. At the very least, I’ll be a distraction for you. If this goes wrong, you can either run or improvise depending on what you think is best.”

I nodded.

“Ohohoho ... a bold suggestion. To take on personal risk solely to avoid harm to your princess is both valiant and appropriate. However, I’ve a better solution.”

The man looked uncertainly at me.

I hardly saw why. He only knew me as a delicate and gentle princess. Because I was.

“... Uh, you do? What would that be?”

I pointed with Starlight Grace.

“[Spring Breeze].”

Poomph.

The effect was immediate.

Auburn hair went billowing upwards, along with a crown as the startled woman immediately stumbled forwards. She caught herself upon the edge of the window. The crown she’d worn bounced against the wall, leaving a dent before rolling harmlessly in the middle of the floor.

I smiled in satisfaction.

Why, at this distance, punting away an unwieldy crown was even easier than a caterpillar! If all I needed to do was remove it, then the lightest of breezes was more than sufficient!

Indeed, it was so simple that the woman could do nothing but stare like a lost lamb as she turned around, now happily freed from a cursed magic hat she was wholly liable for.

She was, in fact, so happy that she couldn’t even keep herself together.

Literally.

Crack.

She crumbled.

Like a dry gâteau moelleux au beurre, the woman disintegrated into innumerable pieces, her attire and skin sharing the same fractures before she became nothing more than the dust around us.

Peeking their heads past me, Coppelia nodded approvingly while the commoner’s jaw dropped in horror.

They weren’t the only ones with a response.

“Oh, welcome to my tavern!”

We all turned as one.

There, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was a woman still very much whole and with a crown upon her head. And unlike her crumbled version, she was surrounded by a visible barrier of crackling magic.

“… Or rather, Mr. Oxwell’s tavern,” she continued. “My apologies, I actually hoped to keep this a surprise until later. Gosh, I didn’t expect to see you leave the bar. Did you bring the kegs I asked for?”

She tilted her head and waited.

There was a youthfulness in her expression. In the brightness of her smile. The sort of faux joy carried by seasoned barmaids and con artists alike.

I barely saw it.

For despite the hue of warmth upon her cheeks, there was not a single speck to be found in her eyes.

They were as lost as carcasses washed up on a shore.

“Ah, the kegs,” said the commoner, defaulting at once to an awkward smile. “You know what, I knew I was forgetting something. I must have left them just outside. In my bar. That I’m still meant to be in.”

“Really? That’s a pity. But I see you’ve brought friends instead. It’s wonderful to meet you both. Can I help you, by any chance?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“That remains to be seen. Are you the adventurer I’m looking for?”

“Quite possibly. My name is Liliane Harten.”

“I see ... and you’re A-rank?”

“I am, yes.”

I leaned in slightly closer.

Although she smiled, nothing was there. Neither recognition nor emotion. She was a husk without a soul, lost to the abyss of some unseen darkness. A vampire could have sucked out her blood to the last drop and she’d be less drained.

In that moment, all thoughts of ire departed me at once. And I was instead filled with an overwhelming sense of pity, sympathy and understanding.

My hand slowly went to my mouth.

This poor woman.

Why … just how often had she been promoted against her will as well … ?!