The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

I was almost tempted to return to the dungeons.

A chamber opened up to us. Once, it may have hosted banquets lavish enough for my family to formally ignore. Now I couldn’t ignore it even if I wanted to.

Tables and linen overturned. Cutlery and goblets spilled. False windows smashed into shards. Cabinets filled to the brim with broken plates. 

And the blood.

Why, it was like a poodle had been set loose for 5 seconds! 

A horrific sight, made even worse by the chandeliers decorating the floor in a carpet of faux crystals. But the greatest calamity was in the walls. Here and there, signs of magic were laid bare as blackened scorches spoke of a battle recently fought. 

Amidst the unseemly devastation, I did not know who won … only who lost.

It was my great-great-great grandfather.

His painting was slightly crooked.

I almost fainted on the spot. 

The sheer disrespect beggared belief! It was 2 degrees off! That was 3 degrees more than the permitted allowance! And yet I could already see the same stunned faces on the mages as my servants when I informed them of this! 

This was not complicated!

Here was a man so virtuous that he’d once taken the time to visit this tower and ensure its residents were not threatening calamity upon his descendant’s kingdom! A rare visit by a king, so precious that he was met by a gift of limited souvenirs, an ordinary horse officially pronounced a unicorn and a commemorative painting so large a wall needed to be enlarged to accommodate it!

And they allowed it to be wonky.

“How … How dare these mages regard their lives over the dignity of royalty! Do you see this, Coppelia?”

“I see this~”

“Good, then see closer. This is what you shouldn’t do. Even if the pillars of the kingdom came crumbling down, you must ensure that every image of the royal family is defended with life, cog and limb. Those who suffered to make this kingdom what it is today didn’t do so just to watch over the bumblings of mages while lopsided.”

“Eh … I think it’s nice.”

“C-Coppelia?!”

“I mean, look at his chin. It’s already a bit to the side. Now the whole painting is marginally crooked, it sort of looks like the right angle now.”

I peered closely at the painting.

“That’s besides the point,” I said at once. “Royal portraits are things more sacred to the common people than donations trays are to the Holy Church. To see it spoiled in such a manner is a grave insult. Can you imagine the rioting that would occur should a farmer see how these mages treat royalty?”

“Yes. I bet they would toss them in the air over and over again.”

“Exactly. These mages have much to be grateful for.”

Including those not of this tower.

I glanced behind as the sound of ragged breathing echoed forth from the corridor. It was no monster biting at our heels. But it was close. A mage whose face was so drenched in sweat that it glistened from the magic sparking to life in her hands.

“Haaah … haah … at last … I can feel again.”

Marina hopped past, a zany smile upon her face.

With the silencing ward choking her left behind, her chestnut eyes were alight with the kindling of flames … just as they were around the bindings Coppelia and I had forgotten to remove from her ankles and hands.

The sweating only became more pronounced. But it all paled in comparison to the expression of joy she wore. After all, to be rescued by a princess was the greatest highlight of any commoner’s life.

“My congratulations,” I said simply. “Your gratitude may now begin. My loyal handmaiden will take any monetary amounts you wish to offer.”

“We accept all denominations,” replied Coppelia at once.

The mage’s response was to study the chamber before her, eyes taking in every surface like those at my mandatory tea parties did my snoring face. 

She, unlike them, settled on a frown.

“I will accept your gratitude. I can see it’s unlikely you stumbled into the dungeons through here. There are defensive runes still active.” 

I gazed around at the blissful silence. 

“What defensive runes?”

Marina leaned down and picked up a goblet. Copper and brass rimmed. Well worthy of her pitiful toss as she more or less rolled it across the floor.

Pwam.

The door to the dungeons slammed shut behind us. And then the walls began to glow.

I groaned as I searched for a suitable table to hide beneath. An impossible challenge. Spruce or pine. Not a hint of varnish or a satin gloss to be found. If I couldn’t work on my reflection while I hid for my life, what was the point? 

“Did you have to do that?” I asked, thoroughly aggrieved. “What is wrong with merely pointing them out?”

Marina raised a brow … just as she also raised her arms.

“Because then I wouldn’t know where they all were.”

A moment later–

Her eyes flashed as she glanced over every glowing corner.

“[Rune Nullification].”

Shhhhhhhh.

Like the steam escaping my bathroom, a hiss fell upon the chamber. The lights dimmed like dying torchlights, the magic fuelling them soothed.

An impressive feat. 

But not as much as the smile of megalomania now proudly worn before me like a lady’s lip rouge. That was something so bright it could light up any chamber. 

“As I said … I will accept your gratitude.”

I offered a nod in response.

“It’s almost impressive how long you were able to don the guise of a simple shopkeeper. It seems the people of Rolstein are remarkably patient. Did they not feel something was mildly villainous about you each time you conjured a cloud in the shape of a skull from your cauldron?”

“There was no guise about it,” she replied stiffly. “I was an excellent shopkeeper.”

“Yes, well, that’s a matter of definition. And by that I mean income.”

“I’ll have you know that my income was just fine. There were good days and bad days, but I had few issues with money. I survived.”

“Is that because you summoned your food through restaurant windows?”

“I did not summon food, thank you. I made my own. Usually.”

“Using what, exactly? Leftover reagents? Because the amount of crowns Coppelia and I found in your drawers was barely enough for a single sack of premium apples.” 

Eyes widening with misplaced horror met me.

“Did … Did you rob my shop?”

I gasped at the accusation.

“Excuse me! I am no robber!”

“You are an adventurer! Robbing is what you people do!”

My hands covered my mouth.

Finally, someone who understood! She was entirely right! … But also wrong!

“Adventurers rob, yes … but in my case, I was merely requisitioning funds for the sake of the kingdom. If you take issue with that, I suggest not diverging into a career path that leads to the grave crime of consuming an afternoon of my time.”

“Time?” The once town alchemist looked scandalised. “You ruined months of work!”

“Work is selling tonics that ensure the town louts continue offering a reason for bars to open at midday. What you did was not work. In fact, that entire Withering debacle remains a mystery to this day. Would you care to offer an explanation now or while you’re sitting down crafting soap?”

“Soap?”

“There is an island for those who undermine this kingdom. It is filled with happiness and dreams of escape. Extra accommodations would need to be made for your ability to cast magic, but I’m certain the soap you make will be serviceable regardless.”

Marina looked aghast. 

I was pleasantly surprised by the reaction. If she took so much insult at the thought her soap was less than serviceable, then perhaps there was room for export?

“I am a mage of exceptional talent! A prodigy born of flames and sundered stone! I wield magic as I do the ladle of a cauldron, whisking and changing it as I please!”

“All I hear is that you have excellent transferable skills to soap making. Rest assured, if your magic proves its worth, you’ll be allowed to submit your own designs in time.”

She bit her lips. 

It did nothing to stop the ensuing complaint.

“I do not craft soap. Nor will I be. Now or tomorrow. I have far too great a purpose in life to claim than that.”

I could barely hold back my groan.

This … This right here was the problem! There was no purpose more important than that of personal hygiene! It’s because of disregard like this that mages were either turning my fields or my sky black!

… Well, no more! 

Once this entire charade was over, I’d ensure that every mage here contributed to the kingdom in tangible ways! And that meant my burgeoning soap empire!

“Very well, then,” I said as I began drawing a full curriculum in my head. “And what nefarious goal is it that you’re attempting to achieve? Because I’ll say this now–yours has been quite the continuing saga. If it’s nothing less than world domination at this point, then outraging public decency will be added to your list of crimes.”

Marina threw her arms to the air … and yet the response already formed at her lips failed to leave. 

Her shoulders fell slightly. The flame in her eyes doused. And for a moment, the look of general scandal she wore at the thought of crafting an infinite number of soap bars was gone, replaced instead by something akin to malaise.

“You would not understand,” she said, her voice trying and failing at sounding scoffing. “But if you must know … then it is to prove a point.”

She swallowed a short breath, her expression gradually darkening.

“Before I pay my debts to any kingdom or library, there are those who I must collect from myself. And I intend to gather everything I’m owed … in full.”

I tilted my head slightly.

“Oh? … And who is it that owes you crowns, exactly?”

Marina fell silent. 

Her eyes watched a corner of the chamber, seeing past the faded stonework at a memory, at a thought far in the distance. Gone was the clarity of anger, replaced by the sediment of hesitation … bleary, cloudy–cold, like the surface in the bottom of a well, lost amidst a withering field.

And then her smile returned, bearing all the hallmarks of a newly raised baroness as thoughts of indiscriminate scheming caressed her heart and tugged on her lips.

“‘Who’ is a question I intend to have answered,” she replied. “But it is not crowns they owe me. But blood, flames and truth. And I will not be stopped by a buffoon who has read his own drivel so many times he has come to believe it. Woe to him and the world, for each moment I spent wriggling like an insect on the floor was a moment my magic was allowed to coalesce like resin in a hearth. I feel awake. I feel–”

Coppelia poked her in the side.

“Hey! No ultimate power speeches before you betray us!”

Marina had the nerve to look aggrieved.

I hardly saw why. Ultimate power speeches were her defining feature at this point.

“I’m not giving a speech,” said the person about to give a speech, her tone indignant. “Nor is there anyone to betray. We are not allies. At most, we have a common foe.” 

Coppelia beamed in delight.

“That’s the best type of allies! We’re gonna be such good friends all the way until you betray us!”

Marina placed her palm over her face. 

A moment later, she batted at her fringe as she’d forgotten to extinguish a tiny flame upon her fingertip.

“Betrayal would be a joyful prospect,” she said, as we all pretended she didn’t just set herself on fire. “It would mean we didn’t die horrific deaths. Or worse, die and then become reanimated ghouls. This is a lich we face. One, who to your great fortune, is endangering my work. So as absurd as it is, I’m willing to lend my assistance on a temporary and limited basis.”

“You mean until we accidentally catch a fireball during the big showdown?”

“A showdown against a lich. I don’t have time to concern myself with betrayal. If you happen to melt to a stray fireball, then consider that a blessing. It’s kinder than anything that codger would offer.”

“Great! Pick a time that suits you! When you have, I can offer suggestions on what to say during your speech!”

Marina rolled her eyes, failing at adopting the dignified posture of the receptionists loitering outside.

“I don’t want suggestions.”

“You should. The ultimate power speeches you’ve used so far are okay, but they could be better.”

I nodded in support, then pointed to just above the middling speechgiver’s abdomen.

“I agree with Coppelia. It’s not only what you say that’s lacking, it’s how you do it. Merely gloating is not enough. You also need to feel. Remember–words come from the throat. Heart comes from the diaphragm. I suggest breathing exercises.”

Marina offered a click of her tongue instead. 

There were exercises for that as well.

“Breathing exercises will be an issue if we are dead. I have no greater wish than to see the imbecile vapourised. But this is something which requires careful consideration. I am not like you two, joyfully stumbling from one calamity to another.”

“Gasp,” said Coppelia without gasping. “How dare you. Everything we do is planned.”

“My loyal handmaiden who is due a salary increase speaks truly. We have a contingency for every possibility. None of which are required for a headmaster whose retirement notice is overdue.”

Marina looked towards the heavens, despite the fact I was right here.

“Retirement to him is a plane of smouldering ashes. Whatever you think Alberic Terchel is, he is worse. A lifelong charlatan now immortalised in undeath. This tower was his palace. And now it is his lair. He has become immune to nigh on everything except magic which you cannot cast and I would need days, weeks of preparation to accomplish. To defeat him, I suggest … what are you doing?”

“Hm?”

“Why is your hand like that?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” I said, my hand barely covering my lips. “I’m just waiting.”

Marina furrowed her brows in suspicion. But only for a moment.

“Yes, well … to defeat him, I would suggest measuring every step to come, planning judiciously to–”

“Ohhoohohohohohoho!!”

A look of grief met me. An excellent choice. The training would do her well for when she learned about the length of the soap sentence she was destined for.

“This … This is not a laughing matter! Do you have any notion of what type of enemy you hope to face?!”

I offered a smile as my laughter naturally faded, before leaning slightly forwards.

“Indeed, I do. Far more than yourself. And that is a terrible burden.”

Marina dared to look unconvinced.

I was envious of her. If she’d had as many history books whacked onto her head as I did, she’d understand that this lich of a man was not the first, nor the last undead worm to throw a last roll of the dice at relevancy. 

Whether he wore skin or bones, the scheming was always the same. Only the scale was different. And that meant so was the size of my yawn. 

No, I did not reward those who mewled for attention with panic and dishevelment. 

To do so would invite a defeat worse than any spell cast. 

No matter the foe, my response would never change. Not on a normal day. And not before the watching portrait of my great-great-great grandfather, whose ghost would surely haunt me for any ill decisions I took on this endless night.

Which was why I would respond as only a princess could. 

“There is no shortage of lifelong schemers, Miss Lainsfont. Only those who fail at them. Everyone seeks to crown their endeavours with a final coronation, dreaming of sweeping acknowledgement and falling petals. Such a thing doesn’t require a step-by-step guide to fell. But words of wisdom to shake them from their slumber.”

Incredulity marked every pore of Marina’s face.

“You’re going to talk a lich into defeat?” 

“Ohohoho … why, not in the slightest. After all, talking implies a discussion. This would be a lecture.”

“A lecture? And just what is the topic?”

I leaned forwards, offering my sweetest smile.

“The definition of regret.”

Marina pursed her lips. 

That was fine. I didn’t need her to say anything. Only to take her seat.

Thus, I clapped my hands together.

“But first, we’ll need to reach the lecture hall! Will you be teleporting us to the top of this tower?”

“Not unless you wish to set fire to any last semblance of subtlety. And no, I don’t want you to answer that. We must ascend this tower without commotion.”

I nodded.

“Very well. I understand. You may now carry me.”

She blinked. I pointed at her for extra clarity.

“… What did you just say?”

“You may now carry me. Would you like to lift me or hold me upon your back?”

“Neither!” came the reply, suitably aghast at the thought of a commoner being allowed to piggyback a princess. “I am no mule! I am Marina Lainsfont! I am the most talented mage of a generation! A genius alchemist! My name is written in the stars!”

“Excellent. Then I take it a mage as talented as yourself knows a spell to help your already sore muscles with carrying me?”

“That is … well, yes, but that is irrelevant! You still have functioning knees, unlike that codger we face! Why should I expend any amount of effort to carry you?!”

I placed my hand to my chest.

“Miss Lainsfont. Before I can face my opponents, I must be ready to face myself. And since I’m outrageously beautiful, I have outrageous standards. To meet even a badger with a bead of sweat upon me is an unconscionable blemish. Why, it would do nothing but galvanise my foes. That cannot be allowed.” 

Marina raised a brow, seemingly never met a badger before.

“No,” she said flatly.

I gave a small sigh, then turned towards … somewhere.

“Very well … I suppose I’ll need to go rescue one of the mages huddling in some corner somewhere, then. No doubt they’ll be all too glad to be accredited with the overthrow of a lich now commanding their tower. I may as well ensure their certificate as a passing gift. They’ll probably be lauded all their lives for it.”

I peeked behind my shoulder.

Marina wore nothing but a look of disgust, aimed as much at herself as it was at me.

It was a beautiful sight.