Plip. Plip. Plip.

I watched as the pond rippled.

A toad hopped away. A snail hid in its shell. And a hedgehog which hadn’t yet learned to fear my frown knew enough to scurry away in search of a plant pot to hide under.

Only Apple remained unmoved. He leaned in to take a sip, causing the rest of the local residents to scatter and flee against the veritable tidal waves that his muzzle made.

I raised a brow as I peered around me.

The wheat fields stretched out like a golden desert. Amidst it was the occasional oasis like this one. A pond at the end of the many streams which fed the fertile heartlands of my kingdom, boasting its own little garden of reeds, water lilies and a single oak tree too stubborn to ever be felled. 

However, where this should be a communal hall of wildlife, there was instead … nothing.

Not a single songbird welcomed me from the branches of the oak tree. The nest which had been filled with the cries of young chicks eager to serenade me only moments ago was silent. And I knew it was more than just my failing score they were withdrawing from.

It was something else. 

It wasn’t worse than a 2.5/10, yes … but it was there.

My princess senses were tingling.

“Coppelia?”

“Yes~?”

My loyal handmaiden tilted her head and smiled.

Sitting on the Spring Queen’s swing, she idly propelled herself backwards and forwards.

It was a comforting sight. That she'd deliberately appear unconcerned when a general sense of foreboding filled the air was the sign of a talented retainer. And it had nothing to do with the fact she only brought her swing out when she was bored while waiting for Apple to rest. 

Or as she referred to it, moving at minus speed.

I looked towards the pond once again.

Despite the fact that Apple was drinking from it, I could see the fresh ripples battling to tickle his nostrils. 

“Hm. How strange. I’d hoped that the earthquakes had ceased, and yet I can’t help but notice that the surface of the pond appears to be … well, ominously trembling.”

Coppelia giggled.

That was good. If any peasants were watching, then between the two of us, they’d see her as the more likely culprit. 

“It sure is! I’m impressed. I didn’t know your tiny kingdom had the same way of judging impending doom as the library. We have a fountain which shakes when the big guy wakes up and there’s no more blueberry muffins at the buffet table.”

“Firstly, my kingdom isn’t tiny. It’s as vast as Apple’s ability to drain a farm of all its irrigation. Frankly, I’m uncertain if he’s a horse or a camel. Secondly, if your dragon wishes for blueberry muffins, then he should have mentioned it during our negotiations. I would have extorted him for more.”

“True. You could have asked to borrow the fountain.”

“I hardly see why I would. I’ve already seen your dragon. I’ve no need to see him again. Especially if he wants to return the poetry collection I’ll soon be sending him.”

“The fountain shows more than just the big guy. Depending on the time of day, the alignment of the stars and how grumpy Henry the crab is feeling, you could have maybe worked out what kind of impending doom is coming.”

“Is the impending doom not the ground opening and my books tumbling from my shelves?”

“Nah, that’s just inconvenient,” said Coppelia, not realising that the scandalous books I didn’t own scattering all over my floor would signal the end of the world. For those who saw it. “If earthquakes were an impending doom, then a bunch of hill giants having a family get together would be enough to count. Whatever’s about to happen, it’s going to be better.”

“Coppelia.”

“Worse. I mean it’s going to be worse. I can feel it … it’s going to be amazing … but also bad … but also good!”

Coppelia beamed as she swung.

Naturally, I matched her enthusiasm, if not quite her smile.

“Is that so? … My, then I look forward to seeing what’s to come.”

“Really? Huh. I figured you’d be less calm. You know, since impending doom usually means everything catching fire. This time especially. It’s definitely a 10 on the official scale.”

“... There’s actually an official scale, isn’t there?”

“It’s next to the fountain,” said Coppelia brightly. “It’s not very accurate, but it doesn’t need to be. Everything’s basically either a 1 or a 10.”

“Dare I ask why there’s nothing in between?”

“I think it’s because when it comes to impending doom, there’s really only two responses. Either you can lie to yourself that you think you can survive, or you just accept you’re going to go the way of the double horned unicorn.”

“Excellent, then I choose the third option.”

“What’s that?”

I offered a bright smile.

“Going first, of course.”

Ohohohohoho!

Indeed, there was a queue, and I was always in front!

No magical fountain or official scale was needed for this. The impending doom wasn’t the threat of my bookmarks going astray, horrifying as that was. 

Instead, it was the one I intended to offer. ... and that was in regards to our current relationship with the Kingdom Under The Mountain.

Yes!

It was time to fix the scales at last!

“The dwarves are many things,” I said with a nod. “And all of them far too similar to the workings of adventurers. They are loud and boorish, doing what they wish, but always under the guise of the thinnest veneer of public accord. They would not have begun causing mischief without having bribed us first. That is unacceptable.”

“Eh? You don't like being bribed?

“No. I dislike not being bribed enough.”

“Oh, phew, I was confused there.”

“There’s no need to be. When everybody in the world of politics bribes each other as a matter of course, that means it’s simply a regular expense. This is an issue with the dwarves. Unlike everyone else, their idea of bribes is to dangle a string so frayed that it can no longer be seen–the lure of open borders.”

I wrinkled my nose.

It was the most absurdly uneven arrangement anyone not me had ever agreed to.

Despite the dwarves being free to come and go as they pleased, few in turn were ever granted access to the famed Underhalls which connected their sprawling realm. 

The Kingdom Under The Mountain was inaccessible to outsiders.

The reason was simple.

No matter how deep below the ground they were, they believed themselves above us.

It mattered little whether it was the most famed of heroes, merchants or even a gentle princess known far and wide for her charity who wished to visit. The dwarves simply refused to be exploited. 

“It’s the enduring insult,” I said with a shake of my head. “Even goblins allow tourists to wander into their mountains. They’ll regret it severely when moss cakes and fig smoothies permanently haunt their dreams, but at least the option is there for those bold or foolish enough to dare it.”

Coppelia giggled. She likely had the same dreams, except hers were welcomed.

“You want to tour the dwarven cities, huh?”

“I want to do no such thing. But to deny the chance for my hoodlums is terrible. It’s utterly unfair that the dwarves can destroy our taverns while my own drunkards cannot do the same. If they had any pride, they'd be mortified.”

I shook my head, indignant on their behalf.

Indeed, here was a state of affairs softened only by the fact that everybody else was equally unhappy. Few ever expected this to change. 

It was a simple fact that the dwarves had engrained themselves in the courts of every kingdom. And that meant an expectation to humour the exorbitant costs of whatever barn or shed they deemed themselves generous enough to sell. 

Well … no more!

“If the dwarves have erred, then I shall take advantage of it,” I said, daring to speak the words few others would. “An equal partnership should not be dangled like a morsel of cheese to hungry mice. Exploitation goes both ways. This clearly needs to be redressed.”

Coppelia nodded, all the while poking her cheek in thought.

“Hmmmmm … but I feel like people have complained about this before. A lot of times, actually.”

“They have, yes. The dwarves typically respond by withdrawing their services, their stonemason guilds and their traders. It’s considered a blow to prestige.”

“Ooh, I get it~! It doesn't matter if the dwarves all leave because your kingdom doesnt care about prestige!”

“Exactly! We’re so big that such matters are beneath us!” 

I smiled with pride.

After all, what did it matter if the dwarves ceased to be a menace in our bars? Unlike other kingdoms who courted their services, we didn’t rely on them to build our castles, our beds and even the tables where they offered their insults in the guise of their deals. 

If the dwarves overstepped, then I wasn’t willing to overlook it as others would.

At least not without compensation … whether or not they agreed.

“Ohohoho … fortunately for the dwarves, this is a kingdom of peace and prosperity, and to those willing to offer us the warmth of friendship, we will return it in full. Unless they’re also in arrears of that friendship, in which case, we’ll first need to requisition all they’ve yet to give.”

Coppelia raised her arms in joy, still swinging as she went.

“Woooooooo! Let’s rob the dwarves!”

“Ohohohohoho!”

I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.

Indeed, nothing else needed to be said.

Unlike dwarves, I didn’t dangle my promises. I kept them.

It was time to rebalance the scales. And for a princess, equality only went in one direction.