Chapter 487: Like Mother, Like Daughter
Ophelia the Snow Dancer’s mini-arc. 4/4.
****
Deep within the heart of the Granholtz Embassy was the world’s tidiest vault.
There were no treasure chests overflowing with gold or cursed artifacts which really should be kept somewhere safer or buried altogether.
Instead there were endless rows of stacked wooden drawers.
Like a library consisting only of cabinets, it was a meticulously organised archive and storage room, containing everything from dreary notes on daily bureaucracy to hidden stashes of illicit proceeds.
While it lacked the splendour of a dragon’s hoard, there was enough wealth of both crowns and secrets to entice any self-respecting thief, mage or spy. And that meant it was warded against just about everything.
Quack, quack.
It just wasn’t warded against Ophelia. Or her ducks.
Just like it wasn’t the time before.
Or the time before that.
In fact, it was even easier this time. There were no guards shouting at her while nudging the guy next to them to stab her first. They were all paralysed in various states in the corridor outside.
And not very well.
Occasionally, she could hear a groan as muscles sought to reawaken before she was even done peeking into each and every drawer. Given that all the complaints were roughly the same volume, it meant a single paralysis spell or concoction had been dispersed throughout the entire complex.
An expensive piece of work.
And also blunt, wasteful and amateurish. But that was no surprise given the culprit.
“Haah … haah … haaaaah …”
Gasping while doubled over was the least suave weirdo in a mask Ophelia had ever encountered. Which wasn’t many. But it was still more than an innocent maiden like her deserved.
“This … This was not part of the plan,” he said, the sweat evident behind the golden smile.
Ophelia paused to admire a crystalline necklace.
A rare find. This one dated back to the founding of the Rozinthe Imperium. Still coursing with magic, it was likely worth tens of thousands of gold crowns.
She tossed it over her shoulder.
“Really?” she mused, continuing to peek into every drawer. “Because I’m stealing stuff and you’re looking weird. It feels like our plans are going great.”
“Nothing about this is great, not least your utter … blasé about all things, but I suppose professionalism is something that I shouldn’t expect you to suddenly learn in the span of a few months.”
“Yeah. That’s absolutely your fault.”
“My only fault is patience–something that dries like a well in the Dunes whenever anyone is forced to enjoy your presence. You’ve once again made things needlessly awkward for me, Snow Dancer.”
“Now that’s just unfair. I make things needlessly awkward for everyone.”
“Yes, but me repeatedly.”
“I don’t even know who you are. Seriously, you can keep dropping hints that we have some backstory going on, but that’s what everyone does. ‘Oh, look, it’s Ophelia climbing down a chimney. I bet if I hide in the shadows and talk like I’ve just discovered poetry, she’ll definitely know who I am, what I want and won’t stab me.’ No, that’s not how it works.”
The man straightened just so he could throw up his arms in exasperation.
“Snow Dancer! You cannot just stab everyone who tries to contact you from the shadows!”
“Because … ?”
“Because like it or not, you are a notable figure in the criminal fraternity. Subtle conversations veiled in darkness come with the territory.”
“Well, show me the exit. Seriously, I’m busy. Do I look like I have time to discuss whatever dumb idea you want to hire me for? That’s what weird cousins are for.”
“You’re casually robbing the Granholtz Embassy at the slowest possible pace. This is something I now regret assisting with.”
“Yeah. This is some shoddy work. How long were you planning on taking the guards out for? Enough time that you can make a sandwich? Look, their fingers are already beginning to twitch. Soon they’ll be running for their swords while hoping their screaming is enough for me to leave.”
“Well, I hope they give it their all! They’ll certainly need as pitiful a display as possible to quell the unbridled fury of arcane magic gathering around your mother.”
“I’m hearing the judgemental tone again.”
“Good. I’m using it. Who is your mother exactly and why can she do that?”
“My mother’s my mother. She’s pretty normal. Except when she’s not. There’s not much else to say.”
“There is raw primordial power leaking from her very eyes.”
“Yeah. She does the glowy eye thing when she’s emotional. Lots of elves do that.”
“Lots of elves do not do that. Nor do they try to disintegrate me on successive attempts. But I suppose that’s evidence she’s truly your mother given the universally poor manners you both share.”
“Hey, we both have great manners! We use cutlery. You’ll be shocked at how many elves don’t.”
“There’s a difference between shunning a fork and disintegrating me without provocation. And now she’s emitting an aura so horrifying it’s clear my expensive efforts to incapacitate the staff were needless.”
“Great, huh?”
“It is not.” A tongue clicked behind the mask. “Tell me, is she going to be a regular fixture from now on? Because her presence combined with randomly hurling magic is not helpful.”
“My mother isn’t here to be helpful. She’s here to harass me. If you’re annoyed that you wasted a potion, then you need to get a refund from whatever lousy back alley dealer you use.”
The masked weirdo jabbed in Ophelia’s direction.
“The paralysing vial took weeks to concoct, using ingredients so rare they cannot be purchased even at inflated prices. I have calibrated its formula with care, leaving its recipients just conscious enough to register the spirited exchange as our swords negotiate the wealth of a vault representing the greatest hegemonic power on the continent. All of this, I should add, was arranged at very short notice, given that I had no advance knowledge of which vault you intended to strike first.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard since the last dumbest thing you said 30 seconds ago. If you want to put on a show, juggle balls outside.”
“I’m not here to juggle, I’m here to offer a healthy rivalry. I’ve an audience with high expectations who have been promised a swashbuckling tale for the ages. I do not mean to disappoint them.”
Ophelia stopped pulling out drawers just to groan.
That’s how serious this was.
“Okay. Why does everyone think I’m good to be included in other people’s plans? It never works. Unless the plan is to be stabbed. Then it works amazing.”
“Indeed, you are everyone’s first choice for a reason nobody but their anguished spirits can explain. But in this case, I chose you for a reason. We are already well acquainted.”
“Great. I like that word. Acquainted. It means we don’t know each other.”
“We are hardly passing contacts at a bar, Snow Dancer. You should already know who I am. I’ve given more than enough hints. After all, you are not the only dancer in this kingdom.”
Ophelia stared.
“... Are you that jester I saw making everyone uncomfortable outside?”
“My gods, Snow Dancer! I cannot make this any more obvious for you!”
“Well, excuse me for being more famous than you.”
The masked weirdo emitted a sudden gasp of indignation.
“More famous, you say! There is not a single soul in the streets of Reitzlake who does not know my name! I am revered in all the worst bars and feared in all the finest!”
“Is that because it looks like you only wear a mask so you can leave without paying?”
The man immediately clutched the edge of his golden faceplate.
His fingers quivered as he wrestled with the idea of revealing himself just to spite Ophelia’s very genuine belief that he was just a dine and dasher.
A few deep breaths later, he settled his arms down.
“... Snow Dancer,” he said, his voice suddenly sombre. “I am currently balancing on the most perilous of tightropes, so I shall keep this brief. I have been co-opted by powers far beyond my reasonable ability to please, all the while avoiding a fate worse than death by forces you cannot even begin to comprehend. It is an inconvenient situation.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”
“It is an ‘everybody’ problem. The heat of summer is a tickling breeze compared to the black flames that now threaten to engulf this kingdom.”
“You must be new here. There’s always black flames threatening to engulf this kingdom. That’s why I live here.”
The man brought his hands up again.
Except this time it was just to cradle his mask.
“Very well. Your sentimentality doesn’t quite match the princess you admire. But fortunately for her, my escape from my current predicament coincides with her survival from the impending doom to come. Naturally, I don’t seek your assistance as a pauper. So here is what I offer.”
The man clicked his fingers.
There was no magic involved, but where his hand was empty, it now held a luminous pearl ring.
Ophelia was immediately unimpressed.
“Selling that isn’t even worth the effort of pushing a bell.”
“Then I suggest you use a fence with a better one. This is a historic artifact of the kingdom.”
“Wow, this kingdom is even poorer than I thought.”
“It lacks material worth, yes, but not history. I retrieved it while the Golden Prince was scouring the land for similar treasures. I believe the princess will view it with great curiosity. It is a ring once belonging to the greatest sword maiden of old–”
“Yoink.”
Ophelia plucked it from the man’s hand at once.
Even so, he merely offered a nod. Albeit slowly.
“–and I give it to you as a token of good will and proof of my credentials, for its true value is that it is part of a matching set. I can acquire the other for you. A pair of rings worthy of any princess’s collection. I simply need your assistance in putting on a spectacle–one worthy of distracting even the fae. A tale of two dancers competing to steal summer itself will do marvellously.”
“You mean while also working to backstab me?”
“Exactly. It’s the kind of vague but curious scheme I know you’ve readily agreed to in the past.”
Ophelia paused.
“True,” she admitted.
“Excellent. Then–”
“But that’s when I was bored. Like I said, I’m busy now.”
“Wooing a princess. I heard. But there are priorities. If you wish to keep her happy, you can prevent all her hard work from burning into cinders, and all for the small price of not stabbing me like I can see you’re planning to do. Believe me when I say that for very little detouring on your part, you can prevent this kingdom’s wholesale destruction.”
“From the forces I can barely comprehend, right?”
“Correct.”
“The ones who will rain black fire down on our heads?”
“Correct.”
“Until nothing but burning ash remains?”
“Correct.”
Ophelia thought for a moment.
Then, she nodded.
“In that case, I’ll pass.”
The masked weirdo simply stared.
“What do you mean you’ll pass? Even if you believe me to be a miscreant in a mask, my warnings are not something you can simply ignore. The risks far outweigh the benefits. I’m not asking you to steal the Winter Queen’s crown. You’re already planning to rob the royal capital, no? All I ask is that we coordinate our endeavours. If it’s specifically jewels you seek, you’re welcome to them all.”
Ophelia nodded again.
“Yup. Still passing.”
“I don’t understand. This is a very reasonable offer even without a threat to the kingdom being involved. But since there is, that should be your concern. Do you not live here?”
“Yeah, but so does the crazy princess.”
“I am aware of the princess’s strength, Snow Dancer–and so are others. Even the brightest candle cannot light the abyss. It can only be quenched. As true as her sword is, there are foes even she cannot defeat.”
Ophelia smiled brightly.
“Great! That just means a chance to impress my mother.”
“–[Disintegrating Beam].”
Bwooomph.
Before the masked weirdo could make his retort, he was promptly buried into a corner of the vault Ophelia hadn’t scoured yet.
Even so, she simply watched as her mother made her way down the corridor outside.
With a white miasma around her figure, eyes which shone like kaleidoscopes and feet held up by a shimmering cloud, she was like the image of the elven mages of old, back when the seasons were young and the pages of fables held more blank pages than ink.
She came to a stop.
“Ophelia.”
“Hi.”
“Are you truly insistent on marrying this violent human girl?”
“Yup! She’s the only one I don’t mind hitting my head.”
A sharp stare met Ophelia, all the while the miasma steadily grew, the white light almost forming the shape of angelic wings.
A moment later, her mother’s brows turned into a frown.
“I see. Then I will do what I must.”
She took a deep breath, scrunched up her fists and raised them to her chest.
Then, she nodded with determination.
“... I will invite her for tea.”