Chapter 485: Where The Snow Goes
Ophelia the Snow Dancer’s mini-arc. 2/4.
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Beneath the bustling streets of the royal capital was a secret.
All knew of the sewers forming the underbelly of the kingdom’s criminal fraternity. But the world below was simply a mirror of the world above. And while the former home of the Thieves Guild represented the winding alleys of the old town, the docks and the market district, they came to a stop before the well-paved grounds of the noble quarter.
They had sewers of their own. And theirs were much nicer.
Spacious, well-lit and inhabited only by the odd roaming horror, they were the meeting point of shadows and conspiracy. And that meant they connected to the usual suspects.
The hidden vaults of aristocrats. The storerooms of merchants. The catacombs of cathedrals.
And also the wine cellars of embassies.
Ophelia looked up at an opening above her.
With a graceful leap, she then sprang from wall to wall, each touch lending her more height until she caught the lowest rung of a ladder meant to be accessed only from above.
A moment later, she was joined by a pair of friendly ducks.
Balancing Duck A on her head while holding Duck B in her arm, she swiftly climbed the ladder until even her elven eyes were enveloped by darkness. A whispering cold followed her as she made her way upwards, before eventually, there were no more rungs to climb.
Clunk.
Raising her hand, she lightly pushed the false tile above her, allowing Duck A to charm any guards.
An immediate success. As she pushed the tile aside and lifted herself up, she was drawn to a pair of embassy guards lying unmoving between the racks of Ducal Gold, their weapons fallen alongside them in the telltale pose of those struck without warning.
Ophelia lowered her ducks, then crept to the open doorway.
Despite arriving in the heart of the Granholtz Embassy, not a soul could be seen. A far cry from the last time she was here.
Instead of the musk of ink and parchment as tired civil servants pretended not to see her, the familiar scent of iron and blood was in the air.
Ophelia wasn’t the only intruder.
“Goodness, this is very exciting, isn’t it? Where are we going? The vault, perhaps?”
… After all, there was also her.
Ophelia groaned.
She’d made it this far without acknowledging her stalker.
However, if she was going to be followed literally everywhere, then that meant having to say something. If word got out that she brought her mother along on robberies, guards would stop trying to stab her and laugh instead.
Just not the ones here.
They sensed she was coming. That’s why they were all preemptively lying on the floor.
“Okay, why in the forests are you here?” asked Ophelia, exasperated enough to talk like an elf. “I thought you were busy. You know, with whatever the latest elven conspiracy is.”
Lady Celisse of the Caedrawood gave a smile warm enough to burn away the dim surroundings.
With long golden hair, shiny blue eyes and a beautiful appearance, she was the picture of elves everywhere. But that also went for her nosiness.
Only elves could insert themselves into everybody else’s business like it was their own. And nobody did it half as well as Ophelia’s own mother.
As the Lead Gossiper of the Local Tree Tending Association, only she could put the neighbourhood aunties out of business. Or maybe save them when they finally ran out of rumours.
Such as by harassing her daughter.
“I was busy, yes,” she said, nodding in triumph. “But being busy is hardly an excuse not to visit my precious sweetleaf every now and again. Why, it feels like we haven’t spoken since the last family Yule gathering!”
“That’s because we haven’t. Everyone got drunk and started stabbing each other. And when the stabbing happens, I’m the one who always gets blamed.”
“Oh! I remember now … but didn’t you say something about how goblins are much better than elves at conspiracies?”
“That’s because they are. There’s a reason the goblin conspiracy count isn’t up to 5 digits. If we want to be successful even once, we should just learn from them.”
“Ophelia, you know I agree with you. But something like that is a very sensitive topic around Yule time. It’s really best that we stick to talking about Auntie Meryl’s snow cakes.”
“Auntie Meryl also tried stabbing–”
“And speaking about snow, I want to talk all about the wonderful Snow Dancer! Goodness, I’ve been hearing so many thrilling things about you, I don’t even know where to start! Is it true that you stole from the fae?”
Seeing her mother’s excited expression and sparkly eyes, Ophelia could only sigh.
“Maybe. But it was nothing important. Just the Crown of Winter.”
“The Crown of Winter! So it’s true! Gosh, you have no idea how proud that made me when I heard the rumours! Plenty of elves have tried to steal lesser items and failed! Did you manage to get it from the Winter Queen herself?”
“Nah, I got it from some guy. He was wearing the crown upside down.”
“I … I see? The fae are as mysterious as ever, but even that wasn’t enough to stop you … something Eucian of the Stars experienced as well. I must say, I was very surprised to hear about the way you apparently chopped off his head. You don’t usually involve yourself in casual politics, do you?”
Ophelia held nothing but regrets.
Public acknowledgement. If she knew there’d be repercussions, she would’ve just left.
“That wasn’t me involving myself. It was everybody else involving me. There’s a difference.”
Her mother clapped her hands in joy.
“Well, it’s hardly been a bad thing for your reputation! That man was quite the troublemaker. I’m only sad not to have seen your work–and my, how much work you’ve been doing! Just a short time ago, I even heard you were responsible for blowing up a dwarven mine. With a landship.”
A moment of silence passed.
“Okay.” Ophelia officially gave up. “You never leave the forest. What’s this about?”
The smile only became warmer, matching the gentleness of those blue eyes.
“Sweetleaf. As your mother, I’m very proud of the things you achieve.”
“Thanks. Me too.”
“However, the brighter you shine, the harder it is to see the paths ahead of you. I’m concerned that when you’re off stealing from the fae, chopping off heads and blowing up dwarves, you might lose sight of the other joys you might find in life.”
The inevitable complaint was held up by a finger.
“Wait. I know how you feel. You value your independence. More importantly, you’re happy as you are. Believe me when I say that to take this away from my precious daughter is the last thing I want. All I wish is for you to know there’s no harm in experiencing all the many shades of happiness. You know what I’m talking about.”
Ophelia stared.
She knew exactly what her mother was talking about.
After all, this was a conversation they’d had many times before … and yet she was surprised that for once, her answer wouldn’t involve reciting all the reasons why her eyes wouldn’t stop rolling.
Thus, she did something which caused her mother to blink.
Ophelia offered a maidenly smile.
“Actually, I’ve decided I’m going to do the whole marriage thing.”
The silence was resounding.
An empty din engulfed the wine cellar as time stretched thin, and yet those shiny blue eyes before her could only widen infinitely.
“... Hm? What was that?”
“I’ve decided to marry someone.”
“You … You have?”
“Yup!”
The silence threatened to repeat itself.
Instead, Ophelia nodded–and so came the hopping and hand grabbing.
“That … That’s wonderful! Oh, Ophelia! I’m so happy for you! Is this someone you met while stealing from the fae, chopping off heads and blowing up dwarves? Who is it? A famed warrior? A wealthy aristocrat? A ship’s captain?”
“Nope! It’s a princess.”
“A … what?”
“A princess. I’ve decided to marry a princess.”
Ophelia nodded several more times.
However, instead of her hand being crushed from joy, everything came to a still.
“Excuse me? A princess? As in … an actual princess? Who is it?”
“Juliette.”
“Juliette?”
“I think she’s the 3rd princess. There seems to be a lot of them.”
“I … see. The 3rd princess. And you met … how?”
“It’s a long story, but basically, she hit my head really hard and now I have to marry her.”
Ophelia tilted her head slightly.
She expected her mother to be flinging her in all directions with happiness.
Instead, her face was only growing increasingly horrified.
“O-Ophelia! … You cannot marry her!”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Because she is not a princess!”
“No, wait, I’m pretty sure she’s–”
All of a sudden, Ophelia’s shoulders were tightly grabbed.
“Ophelia!" She began to be violently shaken. "Wake up! The … The 3rd princess is barely known! Why, all I’ve heard about her is that she’s bedridden! Anyone claiming to be her is clearly a con artist! Do not let yourself be scammed for your beautiful looks!”
“Wait, wait, wait! I’m definitely sure she’s a princess! I even met her grandmother!”
“Her grandmother?! ... Is that it?! Have you ever seen this princess on a throne?! What about in a parade?! Does she carry a sceptre?! Is she surrounded by knights?!”
“No, but that’s only because she’s an adventurer.”
The shaking stopped at once.
Instead, her mother retreated several steps, the horror taut upon her face.
“An adventurer? Ophelia, there’s no such thing as a princess who’s an adventurer! Such a bizarre combination simply doesn’t exist in this world!”
Fwoosh.
As though in answer, all the torches were extinguished around them, save for a single one.
There, at the end of the corridor beyond the doorway they hadn’t budged from, a well-dressed figure stood with the light at his back.
Like a performer on a stage, he wore a golden mask etched with a handsome smile, all the while standing with his palm raised to offer a soliloquy.
“And yet truth is stranger than fiction,” he said, his voice aristocratic and melodic. “For here–”
“[Disintegration Beam].”
Without turning to look at the newcomer, a volatile burst of hellish flames erupted from the outstretched palm of the older elven woman.
It was enough to illuminate all the surroundings. And especially a mother’s concern.
After all, the fact remained that there was a very good reason why Ophelia never bothered with marriage.
No matter what was said or done, getting approval would be a pain.