The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

I rolled my eyes at the ageing man kneeling before the Winter Queen's feet.

Oh, Duke Valence was never the brightest pea in the pod. That he'd dare turn his nose up at the kingdom which protected him was proof of that.

But being an imbecile was never a crime. To date, his constant posturing and complaints served little purpose than to allow other nobles to size up the opportunity to replace him. Thus, his frequent border closures, public tantrums and the size of his moustache were all forgotten, if not forgiven.

Loyalty to my family was never more than a bale of hay to be bartered, after all. The only thing more familiar to nobility than treason was to fail at it. Duke Valence was no different. He was destined to join the long, inglorious line of those seeking to grasp power where none was to be had.

His petty schemes were doomed to failure. But when had precedence ever been viewed as more than an opportunity to succeed where countless others had failed?

Indeed, if the nobility possessed a single, redeeming trait, it was their infatuation with seeing their ambitions through.

Not because I admired perseverance.

No, it simply made things easier for me to see who was worthy of the greatest of my scorn.

That man was now Duke Valence, who in a single moment had swept away what little time remained of his temporary governorship of Aquina.

Seeing this man desperately adorned with armour like a toad dressed in a suit, I found that my scorn couldn't quite raise itself above the quiet revulsion I felt.

It was difficult to summon my outrage. After all, it wasn't with anger that I reacted to a mosquito zipping about my orchard.

It was distaste.

Just as it was their nature to sap, to bleed and to sting, it was mine to swat, stamp and crush. I didn't reconcile with insects.

No. I removed them. Entirely.

“A poor jest,” I said to the kneeling mosquito. “You've neither the jurisdiction nor the competency to pledge Aquina's fealty to any but the kingdom it resides in. And in offering your personal allegiance, you have done away with any authority you could claim to wield. You've stripped yourself bare, and the sight is more gruesome than the breastplate you've stretched to match your girth.”

At last, the man looked at me with eyes bubbling with familiar ambition. There was no other emotion, whatever he made himself believe. And that was truly tiresome.

Ugh. Sedition for ambition's sake was truly the dullest bottle on the wall.

Where was the ill feeling in his eyes from the constant stream of personal slights against him? The grief at the decades of national policy aimed at eroding Aquina's identity? The woe as we levied mountains of bureaucracy on the duchy's farmers?

Frankly, this was insulting!

A minimum level of anguish had failed to be met! Had a hero risen to wave the banner of rebellion and lift the spirits of the peasantry, I at least would have rolled my eyes before setting things alight!

But now?

Now I could only yawn.

“Princess Juliette,” he said, not even offering a nod as he sneered at me. “A surprise. Of all the members of your battered House I expected to see skulking like kitchen mice, I admit it wasn't you. I see that desperate times require desperate measures.”

“Quite so. My brothers and sisters see to matters of urgency and peril. I, meanwhile, have come to audit your finances. An unexciting task, but one which needs to be performed–particularly as it seems none has done so for a while now.”

“Then I welcome you to the Duchy of Aquina. I see you've already made yourself comfortable.”

“And I shall make myself even more so. The coins I've used to erect my chair is merely the start. Once I've gathered your gemstones, your jewellery, your artifacts and your treasures, I intend to build an extremely cozy public gallery, filled with ample seating, warm lighting and a myriad of crêpes stalls. Which flavour would go well with looking on at the remnants of your tenure as Aquina's ruler, I wonder? Chocolate or banana? I'll permit you to make this last decision, in recognition of my own generous nature.”

The man rose to his feet, chuckling despite his disregard to etiquette. Neither the Winter Queen nor I had given him permission to stand.

Really, now! He couldn't even do the formalities of betrayal correctly.

“Reputation of your impudence precedes you, Princess … as does my own memory. Though this is our first formal meeting, I had the pleasure of seeing you ride against my own knights as they mistook you for a common horse thief. A splendid display. Your cackling laughter as you led them in endless circles resounded for miles.”

I tried recalling the incident.

I couldn't. There were far too many.

“I may laugh more, providing that you offer a suitably farfetched excuse to the Winter Queen for stealing her from her own palace. I dare say it doesn't shine a positive light on your offer of vassalage.”

The man turned to the listening fae in question, whose delicate smile betrayed none of her thoughts.

“My actions prove my worth,” he boldly said, bowing his head until it was blockaded by his stomach. “To demonstrate resolve is the traditional approach to begging for an audience with the Winter Queen. And I believe my act of proudly swearing fealty has earned that meeting.”

The Winter Queen tilted her head slightly. She quickly shot her hand up, holding the falling teacup in place.

For a moment, her arctic eyes measured the worth of the man before her. And while I knew she found him to be lacking, she was still obligated to give her reply.

A reply which she had no right to give.

Because she was not the queen of this kingdom. And I had not yet finished speaking.

Thus, I did what was only appropriate.

I stood up from my chair, interrupting the Winter Queen as her lips parted.

Both she and the duke blinked at me–and then continued to blink as I started shovelling snow and coins onto the spot just before my chair.

“Coppelia,” I said simply.

Off to the side, my future handmaiden looked up from her work.

She had an extremely detailed snow beret nestled in her lap, and was painstakingly carving what looked very much like all 104 metres of the 1172 Battle of Remansille tapestry into the snowy fabric.

“It's not ready yet,” she replied, earnestly lifting up the beret.

I waved away her concerns.

“I know. I require your assistance again.”

“Want me to boink the old guy with my scythe?”

The errant duke peeled away slightly, looking between Coppelia and the Winter Queen.

That he didn't look to me for mercy was only proof that a lesson in humility was needed.

“Not yet,” I said after a pause. “Help me make a stool.”

“Okie~”

Placing her newly made beret on her head, Coppelia joined me in scooping together a stool to match the unfashionable appearance of the chair.

A few moments later, I sat back, now with my right boot raised onto the stool.

“This is the boot of authority,” I said to the stunned duke. “From now on, you will converse with it. Begin by explaining with what right you would offer your fealty to the Winter Queen. You have chained yourself to oaths already. And I'm not in the business of sharing the loyalty of my vassals.”

“My business is with the Winter Queen,” he replied, far more swiftly than his steady candour wished to reveal. “You … You should not even be here. For what reason did your father send you? Where is the Royal Army? Why, how are you–”

I tapped my heel against the stool.

“Silence. This is the Kingdom of Tirea. Not the Winter Court. And while I speak, you will answer.”

The man turned to the Winter Queen.

She responded with a smile and no more. And so for the first time in his life of mishaps and faux pas, he realised that he'd stumbled in a manner which couldn't be shaken off with a sneer as he fled to his borders.

“It matters not to whom I speak,” he said, standing at full height. “So long as the Winter Queen listens. So here is the answer you wish to hear, Princess. I have the right to decide to whom my vassalage belongs.”

“You do not,” I replied simply. “Both yourself and your long line of disappointing ancestors have renewed promises which cannot be reneged upon.”

“I am no longer beholden to oaths sworn to a kingdom that has failed to uphold its own. They are null. Tirea is consumed by the shadow of threats, and I would seek a better shelter for my people. A better ruler for our prosperity.”

I wriggled my boot, silently apologising to Coppelia as I dug a tiny hole into the stool.

“Your people? These are my people.”

“I am–”

“You are a glorified village mayor, tasked with the collection of taxes on behalf of the Royal Treasury. A simple task in which you are failing magnificently. No, these are not your people. No more than this is your wealth. All that you have is ours to loan, and you are now deeply in arrears. Do not pretend that you can offer even a blade of grass.”

The Duke smiled.

“I am the ruler of Aquina, as was my father before me. And I offer far more than a blade of grass.”

He turned, looking directly at the Winter Queen.

“I offer a bridge from the Fae Realm to the mortal lands. A permanent land to offset the loss of the Wovencoille all those centuries ago.”

Once again, I dug my heel into the snow. Silence filled the treasury.

I only proceeded to speak when he correctly faced me.

“And in return for enticing the fae into breaking the ancient treaties separating us, what do you hope to gain? Would you hope to see the dawning dusk, as the elves do? You are neither elven nor fae. You would not survive. You haven't the will.”

“Only those worthy of entering the Fae Realm needs witness the horizon. And those that do may be shielded, gifted and titled, should the Winter Queen deem the honour acceptable.”

Ah.

And there it was.

The nobleman wishes to remain a nobleman. Here was a headline that even The Reitzlake Daily didn't have low enough standards to publish. And the drivel they wrote about my family was only tolerated for the excellent artists' impressions they used of my father's chin.

“I am offering Aquina,” stated the duke, his voice becoming steadily louder. “And yet I know this alone is an unworthy price. Because what I also offer is a worthy host. A maiden fit to bear the Winter Queen's crown. Beside us, the Tournament of Crowns is–”

Click.

I blinked.

Suddenly, the noise of fingers snapping echoed not only within the cavern of this treasury, but also my very mind.

The next moment–

I was no longer peering into the eyes of a man beyond both his prime and his senses.

I was no longer suffering as the ice from beneath me clawed at the most delicate part of me.

And I was no longer surrounded by the hoarded wealth of Aquina.

Instead, I was sitting on a small chair behind a simple tea table, laden with a pot of tea, a platter of assorted bricks and two teacups.

Around me was a room decorated in a wallpaper of white.

It was not vast. And yet it was uncluttered. No armoires containing a hundred silk dresses could be found here. No mirrors to admire my soft skin proving triumphant over blemishes. And no bookshelves filled with textbooks and the adventure romance novels which existed behind them.

Only a royal, four-poster bed with a crystal frame existed to command the space. Adorned with velvety blue curtains, it boasted a mattress, duvet and pillows so untarnished that the colour outshone the white of the tea table.

A glimmer to the side caught my attention.

There, a single window looked out into the world. But it was not my world.

A horizon beyond all measurement of beauty shone. An eternal twilight as dawn and dusk met, dancing in the sky as an aurora of lights and colours.

For a moment, my eyes were caught by the endless cascade, and I found myself drifting to somewhere beyond my reach. But as I looked, I saw the imperfections in the sky. I saw the lack of fluffy white clouds offering the promise of light drizzle to my orchards. And I saw that it was not my sky.

I am the Third Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea. And to be enamoured with any sky but my own is unseemly.

Even if that was the fabled sky of the Fae Realm.

I shook my head out of my stupor.

As I did so, the Winter Queen appeared, teacup on head, and strolled past me as she made her way over to the royal four-poster bed.

Without a moment's hesitation, she leapt face down onto the bed with her arms slightly spread. A moment of stillness ensued. The teacup rolled sadly off her head.

Then–she smacked her fists into her pillow.

“Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo laaaaaaaaame!!!!!!!”

Punching with alternating fists, the Winter Queen, very much a fully grown woman, sent her punishing fury into pillows so soft that they barely made a noise as they absorbed her displeasure.

“A fat old man! A disgusting, greasy, dirty, fat old man! And he offers me lands trampled by pigs and goats! And just now! He was about to suggest a tournament visited by peasants as suitable for finding a host for me! Me! I can't … I can't do this anymore!”

Upon the mirrored wings protruding from her back, I spied my deeply shocked expression. I fixed it at once, then did the same for the strand of hair errantly falling down the wrong side  of my face.

Soon, the punches died down as the sound of the Winter Queen's fury was replaced by heavy breathing.

She then grabbed a pillow, went to her knees, and turned around.

“Princess of Tirea, do you have any notion of how long I've waited to be stolen away?! 200 years! Kidnappings used to be a weekly occurrence! And always involving a tale to be told in bars across the mortal realms! I witnessed love and betrayal, duty and cowardice as I was passed from hand to hand, across desert and seas! And now?!”

She puffed up her cheeks as she angrily hugged the pillow.

“Now it's all business,” she rued, slouching as she kneeled on her bed. “The schemes are always so predictable now. So dull. So stately. I see more of treasuries than I do treasure hunters. The heartfelt, swashbuckling tales of yesteryear as worth is proven and gold is sought are no more, and now I await my kidnappings with trepidation over anticipation. The times that I could be sold on by enterprising rogues and handsome knaves are gone. And I now rely upon the eyes of my snow ducks to take in the world beyond the Fae Realm for me. Tell me, Princess of Tirea. When did your kingdoms and duchies become so ghastly? So bereft of adventure? What joy is there to be had in a land where romance is dead and none now dares to tread the storied Fae Realm for its riches? To whom must I bribe and threaten to take me to places where maidens frolic in fields and gentlemen betray each other over honour and duty?”

All of a sudden, the Winter Queen's eyes began to sparkle as she looked at me.

And then–I did what any other reasonable person would do.

I started looking for the door.