An endless commotion filled the air.

Having realised that their beloved princess was amongst them, all of Wirtzhaven had gathered.

Sailors with drinks in hand. Adventurers stealing those drinks. Guards doing little about it. And the many townspeople craning their heads, each forgetting to wildly cheer from a respectable distance as they sought a glimpse of my smile.

They would all need to wait a little longer.

For one thing, I wasn’t actually smiling.

No … far from it, I was wearing a look of utmost horror. 

I stared blankly down at a tiny chunk of crystallised ice melting into the parched soil.

If not for that, they’d doubtless be crowding me like the last profiterole during a tea party.

Instead, the assembled crowd were forced to content themselves with whatever explanations a halfling, a man in a lilac poncho and an elven woman were offering. 

The answers they received changed little regarding their expressions.

Doubt, anxiousness and trepidation continued to flicker across the faces of those seeking answers. 

And no wonder.

After all–

To hear about the tragedy which occurred would instil disbelief in even the most heartless of hooligans.

My enchanted, portable and legally acquired bed … was no more.

What had been gracefully hurled with all the finesse of a duck had returned as a small pebble. There wasn’t even a shallow puddle to mark its spilled blood. All that remained was its own gravestone. 

I looked over to the culprit. 

Neither apology nor grovelling would be enough to match the degree of harm committed to my quality of life. And yet I received neither. 

Marina Lainsfont was currently as comatose as her father … albeit both for slightly different reasons. 

Our favourite shopkeeper was lying across the lap of a woman, whose witch’s attire was simpler yet more authentic than what any fae playing dress up boasted. 

It was confirmation that at least one resident of the village had woken from their stupor. But it was more than magic that had allowed her to sweep our alchemist from the sky. 

Seeing her again, the similarities to the witch I'd earlier examined were clear.

The colour of their hazelnut hair. The size of their large eyes. The shape of their button noses.

Only the way they smiled was different. 

No threat of world domination came from the woman whose lap formed a pillow. 

Although she was perhaps young enough to be mistaken for an older sibling, there was no mistaking the motherly fondness of her expression as she patted her daughter’s head and poked her cheeks. 

A service the man sitting beside them could use–if only to see if he was still alive. 

He simply gawped.

Although he nodded to whatever the woman was saying, it was clear from the vacancy in his expression that he was as receptive to words as the drunkards wondering why a woman had briefly taken to the sky in flames and whether or not this meant they needed to run or drink more. 

At the moment, they were deciding to drink more. 

Their concerns were tossed aside with the arrival of the first vendors, bringing with them the contents of the taverns which had been vacated. 

Merriment was swift to follow, but no matter how wide the smiles of drunken relief concerning their own rescue, none compared to the delight of a clockwork doll as she waved an apple strudel.

“Still warm~” said Coppelia, as she threatened to poke my nose. “The first and last freshly heated strudel by the Witch of Calamity! … Want to share?”

I blinked as I looked up at the offered pastry.

Judging by what I saw, she’d already shared it. 

With herself.

“Thank you. But I must decline.”

“You sure? It’s perfectly crumbly. You can’t even tell it tastes sort of like a goblin moss cake now.”

“I’m quite sure, yes … even more so than before. In any event, I’m currently in mourning. A great loss has been experienced this day. My loyal and faithful bed is no more.”

“True, the bed decided to become a mailbox. That was amazing. Plus this means a town filled with squishy and undeserving humans also didn’t turn into a horrible charcoal pancake. That’s great, huh?”

I stared forlornly down at the melting pebble.

“My kingdom might be safe, my family secure and my people still constantly drunk, but even so … can we truly say this was worth it?”

“Weeelll–”

“Exactly.” I shook my head solemnly. “No, Coppelia, this is a sacrifice greater than any princess has ever needed to make.”

“... Do princesses ever make sacrifices?”

“Not in the slightest. Others sacrifice themselves for us. We do not sacrifice ourselves for them. This is unprecedented. I might even have to go back to sleeping on … commoner beds.”

I shuddered at the thought. 

Indeed, had I known that such hardship awaited me, I would have elegantly solved this by throwing something else equally durable instead. Like one of her corsets.

“Ahaha~ now that’s just unfair. You haven’t slept in those hard, uncomfortable and mouldy blocks of trees pretending to be beds in ages. Who knows, they might have gotten better!”

I let out a groan.

“Coppelia, please. This is no laughing matter. Do you have any idea how soft and pliable my cheeks are?”

“Sure! I poke them to wake you up.”

“Yes you do. Which is terrible. But can you imagine how more terrible it will be once they’ve lost their elasticity? … Why, I can feel them turning to boulders just thinking about those tortuous beds!” 

My grief drew a look of bemusement. Probably because she’d just poke my tummy instead. 

I saw nothing but darkness ahead of me. 

“... Okay!” Coppelia raised her arm. “I’ve a suggestion!” 

“I’m not sleeping on the grass, either.”

“But grass is comfortable! And free! Plus you already talk about napping in your orchard!”

“Napping and sleeping are two different things. And so long as I never need to explain why, I can get away with both when and as required.”

Coppelia placed a finger to her cheek and hummed.

“I guess there’s the boring solution, too. Why don’t we ask the fae to fix the fae bed?”

Her eyes looked tellingly at the back of the garden.

Whatever she was looking at, I sadly didn’t see.

Aside from the lack of ability for a mere countess to fix what a queen had made, she was clearly in no state to assist. But not because she was despairing over the state of her cottage.

“La laa laa la laa~ ♪”

On the contrary, she was strolling merrily to and fro.

Unbothered with the crowd gathering around the entrance to her garden and the general bedlam, she busied herself with scooping the many leftover golden embers directly into a salad bowl. 

The fact that Coppelia wasn’t competing for the last of the witchly flames was all the warning I needed. 

“... I may ask her later,” I conceded, before turning to another candidate instead.

Indeed, not all hope was lost!

As powerful as fae magic was, there was another brand of madness available to me! 

Thus, I made my way to the sitting witch chatting with two equally unresponsive commoners. 

One was a barkeeper opening his mouth like a goldfish choking on a pebble. The other was an alchemist lying unconscious with drool dribbling from her lips.

I wasn’t certain who needed more help.

“Salutations,” I said to the witch. “I presume you know who I am from my splendid, but not free display during that theatre debacle. There are important matters to discuss. All of them regarding different shades of compensation. The witchly village is in arrears. It requires certificates I haven’t even made up to summon so much as a candle, and yet the flames of an infernal devil were allowed to assume the horrific form of a child. That’s unacceptable. You may regard yourself as separate from the doings of the kingdom, but so long as you enjoy its protection, you’re subject to its laws. Explanations, apologies and vast amounts of reparations are required. You may begin in any order–as long as it begins with repairing my magical bed.”

I gave a point to the crystallised chunk lying to the side.

Then, I waited.

The witch blinked as she gazed up at me. 

With no word of acknowledgement, she gently lifted her daughter’s head away from her lap, before setting her down to squish the sole daisy which had survived the flames of calamity. 

She rose to her feet.

A witch in the flesh. Now in motion. 

There was little fanfare about her appearance. The myths surrounding her kind couldn’t be seen. I sensed as much grand history hidden amidst the sewing of her robes as I did in her gentle, hazelnut eyes.

She was simply a mage.

Just one who likely owned a broomstick.

No ancient power radiated from her. No scent of a hag’s cauldron floated from any potions by her side.

Even so, her expression was worthy of note.

There wasn’t a shred of apprehension there.

The fear, concern and dismay which should come from being directly addressed by a princess who expected more in soap than any number of witches could possibly conjure was absent. And so I wondered what magic a mother upset over a bed being gently thrown at her daughter would cast.

Instead … she simply spread out her arms.

And then–

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhnnnn~”

Leaning forwards … she wrapped them around me with a wide smile.

Wha–

What was–

What was … what was … hmmmmmmmmmmm?!

My entire figure stiffened.

All of a sudden, I could do nothing but gawp as countless laws flickered across my mind, each taking turns to being broken as an unexpected warmth engulfed me.

I … I could scarcely believe it!

Why, a commoner … was squeezing her arms around me … !

“H-How dare … how … how …”

“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhnnnnnnn~”

“C-Coppelia! Arrest this witchly vagabond at once! I am … I am being assailed!”

“Huuuuuuuuug~”

“Wha–no! Coppelia, cease this at once! Do not join in this brazen and illegal attack! I am your princess! S-Stop! I … I’m not a pillow!”

To my horror, decorum was crushed from both my front and my back.

A squeak I never made was all that could be heard as both my cheeks found themselves rubbed by somebody else’s. A flurry of golden and hazelnut hair monopolised my eyes, all the while the scent of wilderness struck my nose.

Eventually, I was released from my imprisonment.

I swayed slightly as I sought equilibrium in my post-hug world. Only after several moments passed and all the broken rules of etiquette were counted could I respond only as any princess could.

“... Salutations,” I said, pretending nothing had happened. “I presume you know who I am from my splendid, but not free–”

The woman interrupted my introduction with a giggle.

“Yes, I believe I do,” she said warmly. “You did make quite a show on that stage. I was very impressed. To set your will against a devil is a terrible thing. But you not only did so bravely, but with all the grace expected of a princess. You were the most shining of lights. Both then and now.”

I paused.

“O-Ohohohohoho! Naturally! As a princess, it’s only expected that I exhibit beauty and poise in all I do!”

“Yes, I can see that. In fact, I was able to catch it twice.” 

The woman looked ready to throw her arms around me again. 

I leaned away slightly, my hands raised in a martial art I’d just invented.

Instead, she offered a deep bow.

“Thank you for quenching the flames of calamity around my daughter. My name is Roseline. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. Words cannot convey my gratitude. For you to use a fae artifact to dissipate the cursed flames surrounding Marina is a feat few could afford and fewer could manage. Not even witches idly handle anything touched by the fae. Theirs is a magic with a will of its own, yet you were able to guide it against calamity itself.”

I nodded repeatedly, all the while hoping the crowd of drunkards off to the side were watching to see what proper etiquette resembled.

… Just as long as it wasn’t the hug they saw.

“Quite so,” I said, pointing once again to what needed fixing. “I deliberately and carefully expended a fae artifact, a treasure of this kingdom, carefully hoarded in order to be called upon in its time of greatest need. A fae artifact which now finds itself broken and in need of repair.” 

The woman’s smile turned apologetic. 

“Ah, I’m afraid that’s quite beyond me. Although I’ve my talents, I’m sorry to say I was never the most learned of witches. It’d take a more gifted one than me to undo the damage caused.”

“I see … that’s a shame. And by that, I mean it’s actually a problem. Although this night has been saved, those still to come are now steeped in gravest peril. The very fate of this kingdom rests in this powerful fae artifact being restored.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

“Well, if you can’t fix it, do you know someone who can? … Your daughter, perhaps? If she can melt it, surely she can unmelt it?”

The woman’s gentle smile didn’t fade.

Instead, it was her eyes which almost seemed to dim.

“I’m certain Marina can do anything,” she said, without a hint of doubt in her voice. “But that talent is different from the curse which inhabits her. For all the power it offers, it does so only to consume. As it still does.”

“Excuse me?”

A moment of silence passed as a mother kneeled down to poke at her daughter’s cheeks.

“The curse of calamity flows through every witch,” she said gently. “It’s a flame which either sits idle or erupts. And should it do the latter, there exists no spell or artifact which can still the enmity that seeps out. It can only be spent.”

I was horrified.

My bed had melted … and now I was being told it’d been a waste?!

“Are you saying she’ll wake up and immediately start cackling again? Because I did not sacrifice all that was good and pure simply to continue rolling my eyes!”

To my puzzlement, the woman only gave a small giggle.

It swiftly faded into a forlorn smile, such was how little mirth was within it.

“I said it needed to be spent. But that doesn’t mean witches don’t have a way to ensure it’s done in a way that doesn’t involve the kingdom collapsing every century. The curse can be allowed to burn away … all the while Marina sleeps.”

“Truly?” I looked at her drooling figure, slightly appalled on her behalf. “How long for?”

“A year,” she said softly. “A decade. A lifetime. Every witch is different. As is their susceptibility.” 

She poked Marina’s cheeks again.

That’s when I realised–she was doing more than earning her daughter’s silent ire.

A faint weave of magic was there upon the fingertip, as calming and delicate as the notes of a lullaby.

Seeing the earnestness mixing with regret before me, I offered a simple nod.

“I see … then the answer is no.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not care what claim the curse of calamity has on her. Mine takes precedence. I still have need of her arts and craft skills. My apologies, but your daughter isn’t allowed to slumber away–especially after melting my own bed. As long as I can’t sleep, then neither can she.” 

I received a blink in response.

“Would you happen to know a way to extinguish the undying flames of a highly belligerent curse which spans untold centuries of witchly history?”

“I do, yes.” I placed a hand to my chest and smiled. “… Me.”

Ohohohohohoho!

Indeed, this woman could put away her thoughts of remorse … at least until I sent her daughter away to carve heart shaped soap bars just because I was certain that would gall her the most!

Whatever this mysterious curse was, there was nothing my healing touch couldn’t fix!

… And in the small chance it couldn’t, well, then that was as simple as delegating to whoever was fortunate enough to earn the opportunity to appease me!

Luckily, I just happened to be a princess with the finest stooges!

Between the grateful instructors of the Royal Institute of Mages with all their tomes, an ancient green dragon with a hidden library, and a guild of alarmingly competent receptionists who were likely assassins in disguise, I saw no reason why any curse couldn’t be easily done away with!

“–Oh, I believe I know someone who can help!”

Provided, of course, that nobody interrupted me.

I swept around at once, then jabbed my finger towards the fae countess.

“No. You do not say a word … I have avoided you for a reason!”

“But I–” 

“No buts! It is far too convenient you’re here! I understand more than enough to know that few coincidences exist with the fae! You are even more than that–you are a shining signpost! … Well, I refuse to head into the direction you’re pointing towards!”

The fae countess pursed her lips.

Then, she offered me her salad bowl filled with golden embers.

I leaned away from it.

“Why are you giving me the salad bowl?”

“It’ll help.”

“No.”

“She likes salad.”

“I refuse. There’s no circumstance dire enough in which I’ll ever willingly–”

Click.