A snort met my ears as Apple trotted along the road.

Except this time, it hadn’t come solely from him.

It came from the other horses, each showing appropriate deference when crossing paths with a royal steed. 

They dipped their heads as they passed, before offering a greeting which likely sounded better in their minds. A courtesy also matched by their owners.

Beneath a gentle brush of fluffy clouds, an endless line of farmers took advantage of my warming presence to lead their horses by the tether. Carts and sleds trundled behind them, each overflowing with the reward of their toil.

It was the sight of summer's beginning.

Here in the southern tip of my kingdom, the forests had given way to wheat fields as golden as crème renversée au miel. More would come as we neared our return to Rolstein and the agricultural heartlands of my fair kingdom.

The farmers had doubtless anticipated this. They already bore the scars of sweat and soil upon their faces, knowing that with summer came the demands of high society.

However, while this was normally cause for every farmhand to frantically dig into the soil if only to search for a spoon tying them to noble ancestry, this time, there was no such despair. 

Instead, they were smiling … and for good reason.

I was here.

Ohohohoho!

Indeed … it was the rarest sight–a princess come to personally ignore their daily plights!

In fact, they were so joyous that their postures fixed themselves in response!

The slouched backs and slack jaws were no more. They stood tall and proud, less like commoners dreaming about slacking in a pub and more like knights who hadn’t yet learned about the concept of social distance. 

Why, they even greeted me as such!

“Mornin’, milady. A beautiful day, eh?”

“Blessings on ye, m’lady.”

“Safe roads to you, miss.”

“Lumielle smile on ye, young lady.”

With clumsy bows, lazy tips of their straw hats or a wave of the pitchforks resting upon their shoulders like spears, the farmers offered me an unending stream of greetings without once suddenly turning around and heading in the opposite direction.

A highly peculiar phenomenon. 

Naturally, my loyal handmaiden noticed at once.

“Wow, your peasants are upgrading~” said Coppelia, hopping off the back of a cart as it jolted past me. “They no longer look horrified just because they magically sense you nearby even though humans are usually really bad with that ability.”

I gently raised a hand to my lips.

“Ohohoho … why, that’s only natural! My effort to ensure their continued ability to work without stop has now allowed them to view me as the angelic princess I am.”

That’s right!

I had shooed away miscreants from all four corners of my kingdom while also making them tidy after themselves! It’d be stranger if whatever entirely valid misgivings they had were still there!

With that said … there was a slight issue with this.

“Indeed, to be acknowledged for my charitable work is only correct ... however, I now run the risk of my reputation overlapping with Florella’s. This is a problem.” 

“Really? Because I’ve never seen you [Princess Diving Elbow Drop] anyone.”

“That’s because there’s no such thing as a [Princess Diving Elbow Drop].”

“Tell that to the guy whose nose is now pointing into his own face.”

“... Who?”

“Background Tree.”

“Oh. Him. Well, that wasn’t a [Princess Diving Elbow Drop]. His face was simply in the way of Florella’s stretches. Needless to say, it was his fault. Anybody in the way of a princess’s calisthenics routine does so at their own peril.”

Coppelia giggled.

Only she could do that. The fact she could smile immediately after waking up meant she was impervious to my stretches as I slept.

“I mean, isn’t an overlap a good thing? Your sister has a nice reputation. You know, since she beats up everyone who says otherwise.”

“My sister doesn’t do such a thing. She’s as gentle as the giant warship crewed by ogres she captains. Moreover, for two princesses to be renowned for their charitable endeavours isn’t a good thing.” 

“But doesn’t it mean nobody’s running away and therefore not working?”

“Yes, but there’s a balance. Trepidation and adoration must both be garnered in moderation. Otherwise nothing will get done. It will either mean rampant fleeing as commoners fear for their livelihoods or an unquenchable riot as they brawl with each other just to catch a glimpse of our smile.”

“Uwah~ it’s hard being a sweaty peasant.”

“Ohohoho … not at all. It’s actually quite simple. Merely offer the kingdom in loyalty what the kingdom provides in every moment I’m forced out of bed–and since I currently see no opportunity to test the Winter Queen’s newest donation, I expect more loyalty is to come.” 

Coppelia beamed as she raised her arms in joy. 

“Dwarves!”

“Dwarves.”

I nodded.

Despite the number of days that had passed since we’d left Wirtzhaven, answers were few and tremors were many. And although none of the earthquakes had been as violent as that first night, every villager and passing trader who’d experienced the effects did so with a concerning amount of laissez-faire. 

A dire thing.

For my kingdom’s subjects to become so nonchalant to calamity meant such an attitude threatened to bleed into everything they did. The Royal Villa’s stewards would soon be taking over 0.6 seconds to react to the ringing of my servant’s bell.  

The thought was enough to send shivers running down my back.

However, while the lack of headless panicking from the commoners was unhelpful, the tremors at least all pointed to the same thing.

Dwarves.

Rarely seen but often heard, they were the perpetual guests who neither required nor humoured the concept of invitations. 

Where there was a local mining guild to bankrupt, there was a sudden delegation to bribe the relevant officials into making it happen. They were tardy in leaving, but never late in arriving. 

Especially given their definition of ownership.

The Kingdom Under The Mountain was their realm. And the mountain in question was the surface of the continent. A fact disputed by every nation with a shovel. But that didn’t prevent trade and dialogue. 

As the foremost architects above or below the ground, even their stock catalogues of dark towers and foreboding castles almost passed as bespoke to the untrained eye. 

Sadly for them, my eyes had seen better. 

I intended to inspect every inch of stone they were chiselling for compensation–whatever unacceptable reason they were claiming for doing so. 

“We shall reach Nettle Cross soon,” I said with a nod ahead. “It is little more than a village, but one famously grown from a single orchard. Why dwarves would be there is a curious choice. It is not known for any rare ores, but bergamot trees and its proximity to the Altverd Gate and the border with Weinstadt.”

“I mean, if you ignore the shaking which is slowly getting worse even if nobody else notices, this is great news … probably. Dwarves don’t do anything on the surface unless it’s worth their time.”

“Yes, clearly they desire something my kingdom has. Something they’re spoiled for choice over. I doubt the shaking is only to help sell the durability of the underground fortresses they continually pester us to consider … although that’s likely still a consideration.”

“Eh? You don’t want an underground fortress?”

“Not at all. Anything below the surface is inappropriate as a public institution. Our bastions must be tall, visible and easily besieged. Only that will cause our opponents to falter against the boldness of our will.”

Coppelia pirouetted as she skipped, her smile blinding a nearby farmer.

“Well, if they’re not here to sell, then that means they’re here to get drunk! The Adventurer's Guild must have tucked away their best kegs if dwarves are digging up your kingdom for it.” 

“In that case, they need to pay more. Whoever sanctioned this clearly didn't charge enough. Otherwise the roads would be paved in dwarven marble.”

“I mean, it feels like it’d need someone high up to approve this. Even in Ouzelia, letting dwarves whack stuff is a big deal. Isn’t that the type of thing your parents would need to say yes to?”

“Ohohoho … if it is, then that means only a princess can renegotiate it.”

I offered a confident smile.

True, I had little idea why dwarves would be intent on making their reputation as dire as possible. For all their raucousness while overtaking a tavern, their touch with a mining pick was famed to be lighter.

But that hardly mattered. 

All that did was appropriate reimbursement … and since a princess’s sleep was priceless, so was the value of whatever I’d reject until I was satisfied.

There was just one problem.

“Fair morn to ye, milady.”

I needed to get past the farmers first.

Despite them being forced to give way to Coppelia’s skipping figure and Apple’s trotting, the deluge of greetings was as endless as when I stood in the corner of a soirée. 

However, while the clumsiness was the same, the disposition of the farmers attempting them were markedly different to the trembling sons who approached me while I was preemptively frowning.

Heads high. Chins up. Shoulders back. 

The farmers offered their finest smiles alongside their confident postures. 

My confusion … and yes, slight concern only became more pronounced. 

It wasn’t helped by the large gathering ahead, forming a disorderly queue as they sought to fix their appearances. The wrinkles upon their farming attire were optimistically patted down. Mud was shaken from boots, if not quite their faces. 

The reason soon became clear.

I tugged Apple to a halt beside a large wooden sign.

MEET A PRINCESS!

Special Limited Time Event! 

Meet and converse with a genuine princess!

5 Copper Crowns – Handshake

10 Copper Crowns – Customised Greeting Card

2 Silver Crowns – Pleasant Conversation 

(3 Minutes, +1 Silver Crown Per Additional Minute) 

10 Silver Crowns – Knighthood

My mouth opened wide as I read the words. 

Even so, no matter how much they burned my eyes, they refused to vanish. 

I sent my gaze ahead of me, squinting above the heads of the gathered crowd. Somewhere at the front of the queue was a tiny flag I neither recognised nor ever would.

I recognised even less a girl with golden locks of hair, bright enough that she practically shone alongside the sword she wielded as she stood upon a hidden platform. A fair complexion was added to by a gentle smile, her lips parting only to speak words I didn’t need to hear to understand.

After all, the flat of the sword she carried was dipped upon the shoulders and head of a farmer.

No … not a farmer.

A knight, freshly ordained for the bargain price of 10 silver crowns.

Coppelia clapped her hands in excited applause.

“Wow, this is amazing! … With two princesses, the dwarves don’t stand a chance, huh?”