This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/kayenano on 2024-10-30 02:38:30+00:00.

[<< First] | [< Previous] | [Next >] | [Patreon] | [Discord]

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 305: The Least And Most Expected

I led the way, Starlight Grace in hand.

The darkened stairs wound on relentlessly. 

There wasn’t a hint of the pleasing spiral my bedroom tower offered. Sharp and angular, it zig-zagged with clockwork precision into the depths of the mountain until I was no longer counting the steps.

Normally, this would be little more than an exercise in dullness. Yet as I descended this veritable tunnel beneath a floating eyeball’s bathtub, it was not mud and roughly hewn rocks which were lit by my sword’s glare. 

It was walls of finely engraved stone, the surface so keenly chiselled that it shone like a mirror.

Whereas the caverns overhead were undoubtedly the work of amateurs, this was the product of professional stonemasons. 

A glance was all I required. I offered my full inspection instead. 

Few things etched upon bare walls earned my attention. But these were not the coarse recesses where a poorly laid flaming spike waited to be sprung. 

Octagonal patterns decorated the tunnel, the distinct lines as accurately measured as the steps. A statement as loud as the boisterousness of those who had carved them, for few would fail to recognise the handiwork on display.

“Dwarves,” I said simply.

Indeed, it was no small feat to carve through a mountain. 

It was even harder to dig beneath it. 

But for dwarven stonemasons, it was a greater accomplishment to prevent my nose from wrinkling. Something they regularly failed to do.

“Dwarves~!” repeated Coppelia with a joyful fling of her arms. A moment later, she tilted her head. “Huh, that’s weird. We don’t normally have dwarves in Ouzelia.”

“Is that so? How strange. I’d have thought the mountains of Ouzelia were rife for illegal looting.”

“Oh, they definitely are. We actually used to have loads of dwarves, but the last ones left ages ago.”

“I see. Did they manage to fully excavate your most prosperous mountains with one hand while claiming ignorance with the other?”

“Nope. Still filled with treasure. It’s just that it’s really hard to illegally mine anything in Ouzelia without a dragon coming in and yoinking it away. Those guys really mess up other people’s long term looting plans when they just keep taking all their stuff.”

I nodded.

“Dragons. The kings of vultures. But I admit they at least ensure your nation’s wealth does not abscond.”

“Mmh~ dragons have loads of uses. You can have amazing picnics. Just find a nice dragon lair, sit outside the entrance and every now and again, whack the ground a whole bunch of times with a broomstick. The flame which comes out can make the best fondue sandwiches.”

“... Coppelia, do you purposefully aggravate your dragon in order to acquire melted cheese?”

“Ahahaha.” Coppelia waved her hand dismissively. “Yes.” 

I gave it a moment’s thought, then hummed in agreement.

“Very well, then. An excellent use of your time. To purposefully fatigue a dragon ensures one fewer available to ferry me away in the night.”

“Well, I don’t think the big guy is one you need to worry about. Especially if dwarves are scampering around the place. They don’t have a good relationship, what with the constant yoinking and all.”

“Then he may rejoice. As much as dwarves enjoy squatting beneath mountains they do not own, if they were actually present, they’d ensure every ear in the realm knew it … even those desperately searching for peace in a tower.”

“Ooh, it sounds like I’m about to hear a princess story.”

“Not at all. Mine’s an experience so ordinary that even the commoners outside the Royal Villa can share in it.”

“They got really drunk and insulted everyone, didn’t they?”

“It was awful, Coppelia. A modest delegation, I was told. I’d never hear it from my tower. Do you know what happened? … Halfway through the night, I thought they were tunnelling beneath the ground. They were simply snoring instead.”

I shuddered as the memories came as clear as the shaking of my bed frame.

“Even without being drunk, their rowdiness was enough to echo after they’d left. And still they had no interest to be exploited by our merchants and traders for our selfish gains. Dwarves know as much about diplomacy as they do about gardening.”

“Weeeell, there aren’t a lot of flowers underground.”

“All the more tragic we find ourselves here, then.” I frowned at the engravings, each etched with immaculate monotony. “Still, these walls were made by dwarves. But not for dwarves. This is no abandoned holding we’ve discovered. I recognise these patterns.”

“You can’t tell me this came from a brochure.”

I shook my head. If only it were.

“Worse. Even the most basic of overpriced dwarven designs come with basic motif engraving as standard. But these markings are far too unassuming. Not a single meaningless swirl or cadaver effigy exists as a distinguishing characteristic. And anybody who commissions dwarven stonemasons would also have the wealth to debase their creation appropriately.”

An unorthodox combination. 

Dwarven architecture without ceremony. Like peasants without soil. 

The air was stale, but not rancid. These tunnels were used. But not by anyone who needed torches, golems or servants to accidentally drop a ledger detailing the cost of hiring dwarves.

My suspicions rose at once … as did my trepidation. 

Something was amiss. 

And as a whispering echo filled my ears, I knew my fears would shortly prove true. 

The bottom of the stairwell revealed itself at last. Granite so polished a troll would try to sell it as marble. Likely bundled with the great archway now towering overhead. It was a thing so immaculately carved and oversized it could have stood as its own monument … for what it welcomed us to was the depths of a mountain no more appropriate for a dragon than a princess.

And still–not a single motif. 

I pursed my lips as a sliver of fear entered my innocent heart.

Indeed, I had no more doubt as I viewed the archway bereft of a single personalised quotation, much less the tasteless gargoyles that such a thing insisted on being flanked by. The result was that it wasn’t even dull. 

No, it was well beyond that. 

It was simply … functional. And the reason was as obvious as it was dire.

“Coppelia, this place … was prebuilt.” 

I shuddered as I took in the warning signs. 

No house sigils, no emblems, no skulls and no squiggles. Here was a canvas destined never to be scribbled upon, its architects long having left for more exciting work. 

Coppelia blinked up as she admired the blandness of it all.

“Gasp. We are not ready.” 

“I know. This is unimaginable. We are dealing with somebody with such low standards that they simply purchased the site of their schemes outright from what was available.” 

“What can we possibly do against such a being?”

“I don’t know. Nobody does. Anyone capable of purchasing a prebuilt lair is capable of anything. For all we know, they don’t even commission their own generic fruit bowl paintings. They purchase them from a gallery instead. Because it’s all the same.”

A shudder ran through me.

Even so, I would not turn back now.

“Very well.” I lifted my chin. “We must prepare for the worst. The end is near–as well as whatever malevolence awaits. I can smell the ill will like the dust in the air. It is time at last to rescue your dragon.” 

“Aww.” 

“Hm?” 

“I mean, yay!” 

I pursed my lips.

Then, certain in the knowledge Coppelia most definitely wanted me home as much as I did, I swallowed a deep breath before forcing myself to peer ahead. Only a hollow chasm met me, and a breeze which had likely been a prisoner as long as the darkness. 

I strolled forward to meet it all.

As Coppelia and I passed beneath the bland archway, our footsteps clattered in our wake. But only for a moment. A great hall fit for any number of hill giants immediately revealed itself, so vast that even our echoes failed to reach the walls. 

But that alone wasn’t what muffled our presence or caused my mouth to widen.

No … it was because for all its size, the hall was not empty. 

Quite the opposite. 

It was filled to the very brim … by books.

Piles and piles of books.

Where Starlight Grace pointed, I was met by a desert where every grain of sand was a page and every dune a small mountain of books. 

Here and there, I saw hints of the furnishings which came as standard, now absorbed by their new tenants. The shelves of cabinets and tables alik...

Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1gfckuz/the_villainess_is_an_ss_rank_adventurer_chapter/