I never believed it was possible for Reitzlake’s market district to look like a dragon’s well-organised library. And yet as I peeked around a corner, what I saw was akin to a group of nephews crowding around a single well, each hoping to rob from the same fallen uncle. 

Except now the nephews were dwarves. 

My kingdom was the uncle. 

And the well was an emporium as unwanted as it was chaotic.

Within an expansive cavern, stone slabs hewn for practicality over aesthetics sat beneath piles of wares–few of which would give trolls any reason to pause. 

Whatever the dwarven affinity for architecture, it clearly didn’t extend to their stalls. 

Amidst the modest gleam of trinkets were sundries robbed from a commoner’s forgotten pantry. Wooden bowls, bits of yarn and plates of dried herbs were mixed with necklaces and rings, as though the perusing dwarves boasting every shade of blackened armour saw little to distinguish between them. 

But perhaps that was because the most expensive goods were tucked away in their own little vaults.

Built into the walls of the cavern were large alcoves, their wide, angular entrances revealing the sight of a kingdom’s plunder. 

Or rather, multiple kingdoms. 

From gilded elven armour to sandstone amulets to snowforged shields, there was an alcove for every part of the continent they’d pilfered from. And while I had little idea how they’d find themselves beneath my fair realm, I did know it was unlikely to involve a customs declaration.

I nodded towards the busy scene.

And then–

“W-Why is there a dwarven bazaar under my kingdom … ?!”

I raised my arms in exasperation.

Indeed!

There was no other word to describe this … except utterly shameless!

Even with my lowest expectations, I didn’t assume the dwarves were brazen enough to sell whatever they pilfered before even bothering to leave my kingdom first … yet here they were, selling everything from other kingdoms as well!

“Yep, that’s a dwarven trading post,” said the Snow Dancer, requiring only a glance as she leaned past me. “There’s usually one under every kingdom. You’re pretty much looking at an underground warehouse with a healthy dose of black market shenanigans. If someone stole something and you’re not sure how, it’s probably here. Or in my cottage.”

I briefly closed my eyes.

Sadly, the elven woman was still there no matter how often I did that. And between her and the dwarves, I wasn’t certain who was the least uninvited.

“This is appalling!” I said, focusing on the ones easier to shoo away. “Dwarves do not have permission to open up their own bazaar! That’s a process which requires more underhanded fees than what they could possibly earn back!”

“I don’t think dwarves do underhanded fees. It’s really a take it or leave it thing with them. Except that usually means them taking everything and leaving not a lot.”

“Well, if goblins can ask for permission, then I hardly see why they cannot!”

Coppelia joined us in peeking past the corner.

“Goblins are more sociable than dwarves,” she said, making room so that the ducks could also see what the fuss was about. “And law abiding. They just have worse PR.”

A temporary state of affairs.

Once I was done chastising these dwarves, it’ll be goblins handing out their brochures. 

Especially once they’d finished building my dark castle.

“Then it seems I need to invite more goblins into my kingdom. Their tunnels at least make sense. They work towards the nearest source of undiscovered treasure. I’ve no idea what these dwarves are doing. Snow Dancer, you seem acquainted with them. What are your fellow ruffians up to?”

“They have a big plan,” she said. “They even used those exact words.”

Uggghhhh.

Of course they had a big plan.

Everyone did. Until everything exploded and I was the one who had to assign blame.

Indeed, this was clearly a bigger problem than I envisaged.

An illegal flea market was one thing, but needing to keep several dwarves away from a life of productivity on Soap Island so I could point at them was another. That was a mercy few deserved.

No … the sooner this was nipped in the bud, the fewer I’d need to borrow for the parade.

“Very well, then,” I said with a nod. “It appears the only thing not on offer in this emporium of schemes is an ounce of wisdom. I intend to sell it in bulk.” 

Wasting no time, I swept around the corner.

Followed by the sound of light footsteps and the waddling of ducks, I made my way towards the centre of the cavern. But while I could avoid the piles of pilfered tableware threatening to topple over me, there was little I could do about the endless stares. 

I could do even less for the lack of welcome.

That was a natural charm found in all hoodlums.

A hush fell over the echoing cavern as the air shifted. Hands went from evaluating tableware to appraising the grips of their weapons, and despite the lack of movement or wooden floorboards, a creak sounded like a warning whispered from the stone itself.

Only a single dwarf had the mind to appear unfazed.

The one with a badge of authority only passed by a crown.

A clipboard.

Squeezed between several tables as though evaluating their contents, he stood guarded by an impressive sentinel. An armoured golem the height and width of an ogre, made of stone and clad in burnished steel. 

A favoured plaything of the dwarves. 

As a towering slab of malice given purpose, it was a sign of wealth and power. A walking fortress more effective than any wall to hide behind.

This was excellent. 

It could help tidy everything away.

“You,” I said, stopping before the clipboard dwarf. “Please present your trading permit, venue licence and insurance certificates.”

I waited for the appropriate litany of documents.

All I received was the sight of a dwarf looking between his clipboard and a princess, clearly seeking which of the many points such a meeting ticked.

“Excuse me?”

“If you wish to host a marketplace, then you’re required to have your relevant documentation on hand at all times. Failure to do so is liable to result in whatever I decide.”

The dwarf simply stared at me.

He then sent his gaze past my shoulder.

I had no idea what the Snow Dancer or Coppelia were doing. But I knew it was enough to make him flip the notes of his clipboard all the way to the back, before writing off half of what he'd planned with a single stroke of a quill. 

“My apologies, but I don’t believe I’ve any permits, licences or certificates on hand.” 

“Well, then I hope your funds are enough to cover the extortionate fine this will entail. For you to be in charge of an improperly held bazaar means your personal liability will be devastating.”

“You’ll need to convey that message to who’s actually in charge, then. I’m just a clanthane.”

I clapped my hands in delight.

My, how excellent! The first dwarven nobleman and he was already kicking it up the chain! I didn’t even need to ask! They had as much lack of honour as my own!

“Very well, then. Who’s next on the ladder?”   

“That would be Underthane Belinda. Everything you see is under her direct supervision. If you’ve any issues, she’s the one you need to speak to.” 

“Fine. And where is she now?”

“Right here.”

The dwarf pointed to the armoured golem.

It began to stir at once. 

There was no clanking of limbs or shuddering of plates. Instead, violet symbols flashed to life as magic runes, each empowering the construct to wake as smoothly as I did in the mornings. 

A moment later, its stone eyes flashed to life as a pair of blue flames.

“Greetings!” said the golem in an enthusiastic tone. “I’m so sorry! I heard everything you said, but it takes a good few seconds for me to wake up from conservation mode. I’m Belinda. I understand you have concerns regarding the trading post. Would this be right? If so, I’m more than happy to help!” 

I leaned away slightly as the golem towered over me. 

Even so, there wasn’t a hint of animosity in that overly cheerful voice. Enough that as Coppelia went to poke her cousin, I quickly shooed her away.

“That’s correct, yes. Thank you for waking up to deal with this issue, Underthane. I appreciate–”

“Please. Just Belinda will do.”

“I appreciate your assistance in the matter, Underthane. I’ve–”

“Belinda.”

“... Belinda

. I’ve a number of queries I’d like to make.”

“Of course! How can I help?”

The golem stood patiently.

Although there was no smile chiselled in the smooth stonework, I could practically see it in her voice.

Thus, I also offered my own.

“If possible, I’d like you to begin by telling me about the nature of this location. Specifically, how much in crowns is being kept and how long will it take to gather everything in a single pile on the surface?”

“Oh, goodness. I’m not too certain if I can answer that. The amount being kept fluctuates by the moment, but I would imagine it is quite a considerable sum. As for the time it would take to relocate everything, that would depend on the labour available.”

I pointed all around me.

“What if every dwarf here was to help?”

“Well, in that case, I expect it wouldn’t take long in the slightest. A day or two, perhaps. They’re very vigorous and helpful. I have not needed to lodge any complaints. May I know why you’d ask?”

“Certainly. It’s because everywhere I look, I see an illegal marketplace where the patrons don’t even bother shooting furtive glances over their shoulders. That’s unacceptable. Just because this location is beneath the ground doesn’t mean the mandatory theatrics no longer apply. My tax inspectors don’t train to hide for days in every bush and shadow just for their pride to be disrespected.”

“I see! That’s a very valid point. I’ll have to remind them to maintain their watchfulness.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. And since you refer to tax inspectors, would you happen to be a representative from the Kingdom of Tirea?”

“I am. And I’m now formally requisitioning everything I see.”

The golem nodded.

Then, she pointed to the side.

“Very well. As allowing that wouldn’t align with my purpose, please follow me to where we can begin the formal process of diplomatic incentiveness.”

My mouth opened wide.

“Excuse me! … Are you threatening to murder me in an obscure location?”

A gasp came as the reply. The golem even covered her mouth.

I was impressed. Despite the absence of any expression, she certainly didn’t lack for emotion. 

“Absolutely not! I’d never condone such an act. There’s an official process for resolving disputes regarding the legality of our presence, of which bribery is both common and very effective. I intend to offer you a selection of prized wares to choose from.” 

Now it was my turn to gasp.

“That’s even worse! To presume I’d accept a bribe when my choice is to select everything is an insult! Furthermore, there’s no possibility you’d allow any of us to leave alive!”

“Oh, you’re quite right to feel as you do. I would be the same. However, I’d like to assure you that as a golem, I’m incapable of deceit. I’m fabricated to only speak truths.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Frankly, I had my doubts concerning anything made to serve as nobility. That was a position naturally inclined towards duplicity.

Still, it mattered little. There was no need for me to accept anything piecemeal. I clearly wasn’t going to humour a bribe when I could simply have everything instead.

Or at least until I felt a pair of tugs on my sleeves.

I turned around to see the Snow Dancer and Coppelia both enthusiastically nodding their heads. 

… These two.

They were going to be an issue, weren’t they?

“There's actually more,” said the golem, rescuing me from the smiles of my retinue. “The prized wares used in bribes come from a secure vault. If you forcibly seize the trading post, then there’s a strong likelihood you would also forfeit any chance of retrieving our rarest items. They’d be lost forever.” 

I sighed.

“Fine, you have one chance to bribe me. Show me these prized wares.”

“Wonderful!”

The golem turned.

Despite being an armoured construct, she displayed a certain grace as she stomped her way to a part of the cavern where neither an alcove nor a corridor was present. Once there, she poked a button hidden in the wall with a blocky finger.

BRrrUumMmMmmMm

.

A mild tremor later, a part of the wall lifted up to reveal another alcove.

Just as the golem suggested, a heap of items clearly rarer than the rest waited to be admired. 

It was less in quantity, but significantly more in worth.

There were cloaks shimmering with magic, vials bottled with starlight, boots stitched from shadow and scrolls so powerful they left a circle of frost around them. 

But most of all … there was a portrait.

That was the most expensive thing.

After all–

I’d painted it.

“Wha … ?!”

I gawped at the sight.

A wonky chin. A thick nose. One ear bigger than the other. Eyes like mismatched buttons. And a crown so spiky that it looked like a health hazard.

Yes … it was a portrait of my father!

Painted entirely in flat colours by a child who didn’t know which end of the brush was optimal for straight lines, it was the first ever work I’d done on an oil canvas as opposed to roughly sketching on a piece of parchment!

I was utterly stunned.

Why … it was even framed!

All this time, I’d simply assumed it’d been tossed aside or lost beneath a mountain of far worthier portraits kept in the Royal Villa’s extensive cellars!

“H-How is this … why is this here … ?!”

The golem leaned forwards slightly.

“Ah, right,” came a slightly embarrassed voice. “This is a portrait of the current King of Tirea. It’s been verified as an official commissioned work. With that said, its value is difficult to determine.” 

“Of course it’s difficult to determine! This … This is not for sale! In fact, it shouldn’t even be available to be seen! Why, if the one who painted it knew it was being judged, then she’d faint on the spot! How did you come to pilfer this?!”

“I’m afraid I’ve no information about how it was obtained. However, it was passed on through a highly reputable collector. The authenticity isn't in question.”

“The authenticity is the first thing you need to question! Why, just look at this chin! It looks like it was stuck on from a different portrait! … I need this classified as a fake! How do I do this?!”

“This isn't a fake. While the artist is unknown, this is a royal portrait.”

The Snow Dancer leaned past me.

“Oh, I think I stole that.”

“Excuse me … !?!?!”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I found it in the Royal Treasury. I think I took it because it looked like the least valuable thing there. I thought it had to be cursed or something.”

“Why does this look cursed to you?! ... And just how many paintings have you stolen from the Royal Treasury?!”

Ophelia blinked.

“One,” she said, slowly and deliberately.

“You’ve already admitted to stealing a painting before!”

“Oh. In that case, two.”

Clank.

Suddenly, a bizarre noise came from above.

Temporarily distracted from my grief, I looked up to see a part of the cavern ceiling opening up, revealing what was clearly a boulder now stuck in an improperly measured hatch.

I turned to the golem, now with her finger pressed to a wholly different button. 

The glowing blue eyes blinked.

“... I’m also instructed to lie regarding the bribe.”

I was aghast.

Why, had that boulder successfully crushed me, it meant I’d never be able to burn the portrait!

“H-How dare you try to flatten me! … Why, if that was your goal, then you should have waited until I was holding the portrait first just to make sure I was properly distracted! Now you’ll have to pummel with your fists! At most, there’ll just be bits of blood everywhere! That’ll hide nothing!”

“Well, it’d also be barbaric. I’d never do such a thing.”

Adhering to their cue, a cavern filled with rogues presented themselves.

Battleaxes, warhammers and crossbows were displayed even as more dwarves continued to appear from the shadows, each having crept from the various holes and corridors.

The golem nodded, the optimism clear in the motion.

“Rest assured, I'll only pummel with my fists if you survive.”