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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/kayenano on 2026-02-07 02:08:56+00:00.

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Synopsis:

Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.

Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.

Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.

Chapter 486: The Masked Weirdo

Ophelia the Snow Dancer’s mini-arc. 3/4.

****

Ophelia needed wine.

Not for her. But for her mother.

If there was one thing elves did better than stabbing, it was getting stupidly drunk. 

Lady Celisse of the Caendrawood was no exception. There was a reason she was invited to all the best forest gatherings, and it wasn’t just because she told the wildest lies about her cute daughter as a young miscreant growing up.

With the right amount of excessive alcohol, Ophelia could slip away and go back to her well-crafted plan of how to impress a princess.

Being in a wine cellar was great for that. Except there were two problems. 

The first was that all the wines were far too fancy. 

Despite elves crafting a reputation as connoisseurs, the truth was their standards were awful enough to make a dwarf vomiting behind a bar shake their head. The cheaper the liquor, the more they could drink it, and the more dumb things they could do.

The second problem was rubble.

At the end of a corridor where a masked weirdo who probably wanted to hire her was now buried, Ophelia diligently worked to remove the fallen stone, occasionally using Duck A’s beak to pry away the heavier masonry.

Her mother helped by being as distracting as possible.

“... What about the Leaf Dancer’s very own grandson?” she asked, enthusiastically holding up a sketch that was 100% fraudulent. “They say he’s on track to become a sword saint just like you. You remember him, don’t you? Very modest. Sharp chin. Easy to draw. He’s going to inherit the entire mountain. You know, the one you trained on.”

“I don’t want a mountain. Especially one covered in his sweat.”

“Yes, well, you were rather ahead of your peers at the time. The things you could do with a sword were inspiring and sometimes alarming. But if it’s something more furnished you’d like, then what about a fine estate?”

“I already have an estate. It just comes in miniature cottage form. It’s great. It has a pond and a cozy kitchen. Why would I want something bigger?”

“Because you haven’t seen what Count Radran of the Fading Candle has to offer. He’s old nobility, but you wouldn’t know it. The man is quite obsessed with cleaning. He even scrubs the grass of his garden. That’s a sign of someone who takes personal responsibility seriously.”

“Yeah. I’m sure he can do all sorts of things with a mop.”

“Sweetleaf, these are all very earnest options. There are many more as well. You just need to open up slightly and I’m sure you’ll find someone who suits you. In fact, if you tell me what qualities you have in mind, I can discreetly search on your behalf!”

Ophelia flicked a small boulder away and hummed.

“Really?”

“Really! What type of partner are you looking for?”

“I want someone that’s crazy, smells nice and can summon a [Ball Of Doom].”

A pause came as Ophelia’s mother considered whether or not to ask the obvious question.

“What … What is a [Ball Of Doom]?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows. And that’s amazing. The crazy princess who smells nice does it by twirling her sword while laughing. It’s a giant vortex of lightning and furniture that sucks up everything around it and can be thrown like a cannonball.”

“A vortex of lightning and furniture that’s also a cannonball? That sounds so … violent!”

“I know. Great, huh?”

“Ophelia!”

“What? Everyone around us is violent. That means she’d fit right in with the family. I bet she’d even give us an edge when it comes to all the stabbing during Yule time as well!” 

“That’s the thing. We don’t need an edge.”

“Wow. Somebody’s confident.”

“It’s not that. I’m trying to bring us away from all the family arguments. Goodness knows it’s needed after what happened last time. And the time before that. And before that …” 

“In that case, she’s even more perfect! If I marry someone who’s a forest hazard wherever she goes, nobody will stir up trouble. That’s good, right?”

“Sweetleaf, there’s nothing good about an adventurer feigning to be a princess. Even if she was real, all it would do is invite trouble. You know I’m your biggest fan and love hearing about your adventures. But at some point even you will want to put your feet up. If you marry a princess it will be constant politics. You’ll be awful at it. You’ll end up insulting entire nations every time you yawn.”

Ophelia furiously removed the rubble. She needed to immediately marry the crazy princess before someone else did.

Pwoof.

A notion the guy buried under it agreed with.

As Ophelia reached for the largest slab, a dusty hand shot out between the cracks, followed by a knee, a shoulder and then the rest. 

Coated entirely in a film of grey, the masked weirdo stumbled as he climbed free from the minor avalanche, prompting the two elves to retreat while waving away the drifting dust.

He did his best to shake off the worst of it. 

The resulting shower of dust did little to restore the bright colours of what had once been a pristine doublet, a velvety cloak or the golden shine of a smiling mask.

“My gods, woman!” He theatrically threw up a hand, the melodic tone utterly absent. “You just hit me with a [Disintegration Beam]!”

The masked weirdo received a nod. And also a quick frown.

“Yes I did. And I’ll do it again. Please don’t interrupt me when I’m having an important discussion with my daughter.”

“Interrupt?! I am clearly a person of note! Look around! There is a hauntingly empty embassy, a pair of motionless guards, and just beyond here, worrying signs of blood, violent struggle and magic, none of which you’re investigating because for some reason you’re not moving from this room. Lacking any information, you cannot just instantly strike me with a [Disintegration Beam] before I’ve even–”

“[Disintegration Beam].”

Pwoooommph.

Once again, the masked weirdo was sent hurtling backwards. 

Ophelia waited for the man to stumble out again. She certainly wasn’t picking apart the rubble again.

After several moments, a hand, a knee, and a shoulder emerged, before being followed by the rest.

He straightened his back, made an attempt at brushing himself down, adjusted his mask, then offered a cautious bow, the eyes clearly watching for another sign of an elven mother’s unpredictable temperament.

“My apologies,” said the masked weirdo, his tone far more deferent. “I do not often forget my manners. Please do not think I bear any ill will. In my enthusiasm to offer a fitting reception to such esteemed guests, I mistakenly set aside the rules of the game.”

“Apology accepted, but as I said, I’m having a discussion with my daughter. We’re not here to take part in any games.”

“Ah, but life itself is a game, my lady. We are but pieces of a board as chaotic as a stormy sea, doing our best to cling onto the flotsam even as it serves as the anchor to drown us.”

Both elven women stared at the masked weirdo.

Neither answered.

“I am the Masked Gentleman,” said the masked weirdo, as the awkwardness became too severe. “And though I’ve held many callings over the years, my first love will always be thievery. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I have a popular book series to my name.”

Another silence threatened to loom.

Instead, the merciful Lady Celisse turned to Ophelia.

“... Is this the type of people you regularly meet?”

“Nah, most are normal weird, but this guy is weird weird. I can tell.”

“Lady Snow Dancer, I am enigmatic and mysterious, but I must object to being called weird.”

“You’re wearing a weird mask and talking like you’re on a stage. Even for most people who try to annoy me, they at least do it at a normal volume.”

“My voice speaks not from the diaphragm, but the soul. And mine is of both the greatest thief and the finest showman.”

“Okay. Because the Royal Arc Theatre is actually nearby. Like 10 minutes away.”

“Thank you, but I will not dignify that den of amateurs with my presence. I have standards. The stage I walk is the world itself, and the backdrop now is a kingdom awash in summer sunlight after nights of peril. I would invite you both onto that stage with me, even if, in truth, I expected only the Snow Dancer to be here … not her mother.”

Ophelia pointed at once.

“Hey, I hear the judgemental tone! I didn’t bring my mother.”

“It’s true. My beloved daughter doesn’t take me anywhere that doesn’t include strange individuals. It makes me wonder if she truly cares for me.”

“You ne...

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