The Villainess Is An SS+ Rank Adventurer

I peeked over a boulder.

A resting butterfly fluttered its wings at me, before dancing away in search of the promised land which was my orchard. 

I wished it well. And also that it’d take me along with it.

The bad news was that it must have failed to hear my plea.

The good news was that I could soon make my way back to enjoy the splendour of my blushing apple trees myself.

Here at the base of a mountain enshrouded by mist, there was more than the colourless crags and uneven slopes. 

Not a lot more, yes … but enough to host a gathering of malcontents so suspicious that a smile from my etiquette tutor was benign in comparison.

A hive of activity greeted my eyes.

Figures garbed in scarlet robes went to and fro before a large iron door slotted into the mountainside. Braziers burned against the fading dusk, lighting up the sweat upon their faces as they lifted away sacks like hurried dockworkers before the last light. 

Yet for all the telltale monotony of their robes, it was the myriad of cudgels at their hips which gave them away. Crass weapons held by those who’d never wielded an armament before. 

These were not soldiers or mercenaries. 

No … they were far more dangerous.

Dragon Cultists.

I nodded as they worked away, their backs audibly echoing amidst the tall crags.

And then–I smiled.

“Ohohoho … behold, Coppelia!”

“I’m beholding~”

“See where my unparalleled intuition for the abodes of our foes takes us! No matter where they seek to hide from my righteous gaze, not even a mountain enveloped in mist can cloud my perception!”

“Eh? But didn’t we just follow the road? Look, you can see the festival from here~”

Coppelia pointed at the ribbons and flags in the distance. I lowered her hand.

“T-That’s besides the point … rather, it’s precisely because the two locations are so close that this is a noteworthy achievement! To place one’s secret lair in so easily seen a location is a level of deception which would have lesser princesses lost and waiting for a dozen knights to break their ankles trying to rescue them!”

“But there’s a sign saying ‘The Bewitching Oracle’s Home.”

“Another level of subterfuge. To claim a mountain hovel as a home would see even the worst of drunken misfits hurrying away in embarrassment.”

Indeed, hoodlums may be blind to their odour, but not to their squalor.

A problem, then.

It was clear these were not ordinary ruffians who’d stolen away Coppelia’s dragon. 

These were the fantasist variety, drunk on the wine of some ploy so far above them not even I could see it. Especially as I made no effort to.

My eyes were drawn to one thing only. And that was the fair fields of my kingdom.  

… Right! It was time to save a dragon!

“Some foul deed is at work,” I said as I already began brushing my hands of Ouzelia. “It’s one thing to abduct a dragon, but to also have so many followers prepared means that whatever ambitions are at play, it’s more than inappropriate curiosity which compels it. I shall raise my princess premium accordingly.”

Coppelia giggled. As was appropriate. Since a kidnapped dragon was clearly unsuitable as an employer, then he may as well be a jester instead.

“I didn’t know the princess premium was negotiable.”

“Ohohoho … of course it is. I’m highly flexible regarding my dragon rescue rates. I offer 14 different levels of bankruptcy.” 

“Really? What’s the difference between them?”

“There isn’t any. I sit and hum while insinuating there are 13 worse options.”

“Ooh~ the illusion of choice. I like that!”

“It isn’t an illusion. He’s free to pick any of the identically different compensation packages I’ll be tabling while also tapping away at his shackles with ever decreasing speed.”

I craned my neck as I looked up.

The mountain rose so high that only my magnanimity loomed taller. Coppelia joined me, hand to her brows as she squinted at the faraway peak.

“I think I see a hidden path,” she said, rising to her tip-toes. “There’s a narrow and uneven ledge which looks worn from all the people who have slipped and fallen off to their doom. We should be able to hop our way across. What do you think?”

“I think I’m a princess, not a gazelle.”

“Ahaha~ it’s not that bad. As long as you’re not permanently drunk like most humans are while trying to relieve their tiny, insignificant existences, you can do it!”

“I’ve no doubt I can. Even so, I hardly see why we should hop into the waiting maze that a mountain lair shorn of inspiration will boast. There’s a perfectly serviceable entrance right before us.”

I pointed at the door slotted into the mountain just beneath us. 

Coppelia reached her fist high into the sky.

“Yay! We’re gonna [Ball Of Doom] through the front door!”

“We are most certainly not doing any such thing. For one thing, I do not acknowledge what a [Ball Of Doom] is. For another, I am a guest. And this means I would never cause a scene unless someone breathed in my direction first. Until that faux pas, I intend for us to be politely chaperoned towards your missing dragon.”

A hum of puzzlement met my diligence to propriety.

“Eh? But isn’t that for whoever has the grand ticket prize? The one you ignored so you can shamefully hide a scandalous bestseller behind all the history books?”

My mouth widened with indignation.

And then I said nothing … for a moment, at least.

“E-Excuse me! I do not hide my study material out of shame! I do so because they are so unworthy of time that I would not have the maids dusting them unnecessarily.”

I gave a cough, subtly diverting attention while drowning out the ensuing giggle.  

“Furthermore, if I don’t require a ticket to wander the backstage of the Royal Arc Theatre while providing helpful last minute advice to change the entire script, I certainly don’t need one to see a dragon.”

Coppelia tilted her head slightly, finger to her cheek in thought.

“Hmmmmm … but these aren’t normal goons blocking our way. You might not know this, but dragon cultists take themselves super seriously. Look, they’ve even got matching sandals.”

“Yes, to unite in their distaste for fashion is a clear sign of their fervour. But that isn’t a problem. It’s a solution.”

“Got it!~ And what’s that?”

I placed my hand upon my chest and smiled.

“The most effective one there is. To reach their hearts in such a manner that I lift the spell of bewitchment cast upon them.” 

Indeed!

It was time to show my loyal handmaiden the truest side to me!

A princess whose words could move even the most enthralled of minds! 

True, dragon cultists were a different brand of hoodlum. If they were so uncouth in their zealotry that a simple request for them to do everything I wished without question would go unanswered, then many a lesser princess would resort to tears instead. 

A powerful weapon. But one I would not use to gain anything less than a unicorn.

Thus, I brushed down the dust that wasn’t on me and skipped past the boulder.

Exuding a princess’s regal aura, I disregarded both the plethora of wooden signs and the blinks as I proceeded to stroll through the gathering. 

The cultists stopped where they worked, the confusion clear on their faces as they realised that colours other than a single shade of spilled wine existed to be worn. And possibly because Coppelia was waving as though from a carriage window.

Soon, a sizable group before the door were torn from their chatter.

High enough ranked to loiter, but not enough to be excused from wearing the same robes. Each offered a different shade of bewilderment as we approached, before the most senior of the doorstops was forced to display his badge of authority.

A frown.

“Stop.” He held up his palm, then gestured behind me. “Did you read the signs?”

I waited for Coppelia to look behind on my behalf.

“No. Why? Were they important?”

“Very. They say no visitors, customers or festivalgoers. If you want the Bewitching Oracle, she’s closed her reservations list. If you want the fireworks display, you need to go back the way you came. This area is staff only.”

I clapped my hands in delight.

“Excellent. I was just looking for staff. My congratulations. I happen to be hiring for Ouzelia’s newest and most prestigious cult.”

Blank stares met my words.

I smiled.

“… Me.”

Ohohohohohohohohoho!

Once again, my genius soared so high that not even a dragon could reach it!

Indeed, I may not know the way of this land … but I knew the way of hearts!

Here were fools already proven to be susceptible to whatever sweet promises were whispered to them! And who could offer more than a beautiful maiden whose very smile paralyses mermaids with joy and whose touch unparalyses them once the drooling becomes too severe?

Why, I had no need to waste my scowl! 

Against those already bribed with nothing more than a charlatan’s words, all I needed to earn their submission was to dangle something even finer! 

Thus … a rare and limited opportunity to join an organisation both exclusive to Ouzelia and respectful of local customs!

The Cult Of Juliette!

A dignified group neither associated with the Juliette Fixes Everything Foundation, or in case anyone from my kingdom ever asked, myself in any way!

For a moment, the hoodlums stared wordlessly at me. 

Understandable. I was clearly a stranger in a strange land. But while my disapproval of falling pianos was indecipherable to them, the warmth of my smile was not.

A moment later–

I heard a chorus of groans.

“Look here, ma’am,” said the chief doorstop, his hand flinging to the air. “I have told you people already. We have a cult. We don’t need another.”

“Wha–”

My mouth widened in shock.

This … This was not the response I was expecting!

“We are the most devout followers of the Bewitching Oracle. And if you’d read any of the signs, you’d also know that no advertising and no poaching is allowed.”

I was speechless.

Why … for news of the establishment of Ouzelia’s most esteemed cult to be met with such disregard was beyond all notions of belief! 

This was a historic opportunity! I was certainly never coming here again–this meant any followers I hired now would proudly and automatically become the chosen few!

“E-Excuse me! I am no poacher! I am a bringer of joy!” 

Behind the doorstop, his colleagues were rolling their eyes. 

I almost fainted on the spot.

“Every poacher is a bringer of joy. It’s all words, no tangible benefits.”

“No … No tangible benefits?” My hand went to my mouth. It was likely to permanently stay there, such was my horror. “... I have never been so insulted!”

The chief doorstop gave a tired sigh.

“Is that right? Well, I’m sorry, ma’am. But that’s the way of it. Do you have any idea how competitive the market is? It’s been oversaturated for years. You can’t just expect to declare a new cult and immediately start headhunting from other groups.”

“I most certainly can! And if you knew what benefits I provided, you would leap from the ship you’re on well before the need to do it when it shortly capsizes!”

Indignant faces met my statement. They should be wreathed with joy instead.

“Do your benefits include health checks?”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by health checks?”

“Biannual health checks with a certified healer.” The chief doorstop frowned. “What about a regular non-rota schedule? Consecutive and uninterrupted rest days? Bonuses in addition to and not in place of a competitive salary?”

My mouth further widened behind my hand. Soon I’d need both of them.

“A salary?! Which cult gives a salary?!”

“Ours. The Cult of the Bewitching Oracle.”

“That is outrageous! Any cult leader giving more than threats of violence for not doing their bidding is against all norms! Something is clearly suspect!”

“If it is, I’ve yet to notice. But since the Bewitching Oracle gives two free advice sessions a year as well, I’m sure she’d tell me if something was wrong.”

Hearty murmurs filled the air as all the doorstops nodded in shared joy.

Hoodlums. Happy.

I took a step back, horrified beyond measure.

This … This was no ordinary fortune teller! 

To offer so much to nameless goons fated to be discarded once this dragon scheme came to fruition spoke of a willingness to sacrifice more than crowns, but time.

To think I’d underestimated the lengths those in Ouzelia were willing to go to. 

Compared to abducting a dragon, organising working benefits for disposable followers spoke of a patience which none of my nobility were willing to display.

A dangerous adversary.

But one I would not allow to overshadow me in the art of persuasion. Particularly as I was being judged by so many–myself included.

“I see.” I gave a nod of acknowledgement. “Then it seems I need to offer something better.”

The miscreants before me shuffled with poorly veiled interest. No matter what they said, those who coveted once would covet again.

“We are devout followers of the Bewitching Oracle,” repeated the chief doorstop, without explicitly telling me to leave. “You’ve nothing to offer which could draw us from the path we’ve been set upon.”

“Oh? Yet I’ve something which few deserve and all desperately need. And I’m willing to offer it as a joining bonus.”

Then, I raised out my arms, assuming my natural pose as a grounded angel.

“... My wisdom.”

Silence.

Gone were the looks of clear expectation. Disbelief replaced it instead. I nodded. A far more appropriate response.

And then–

“Bwahahahhaaha!!”

“Ahaha … oho … that’s a good one!”

“Ho, I almost feel like joining if that’s the jokes you’ve got! That’s good, really helps clearing my head!”

“Ahahahaha~”

“C-Coppelia?! Why are you laughing as well?!”

I waited as the chorus of laughter slowly died, joined unhelpfully by a handmaiden whose enthusiasm clearly needed tempering with a better sense of timing.

“This is no laughing matter,” I said with a frown. “It is a serious proposition.” 

“Ma’am, please.” The doorstop chuckled, his mood much improved. “The Bewitching Oracle is a certified sage. Her job is to give wisdom. Great wisdom, too. Twice a year to each of us as standard. Why should we listen to yours?”

I offered a smile in response.

The laughter ceased at once. After all, mine was more bewitching than anyone who hoped to steal the word for themselves.

“It sounds like you wish for a trial period.” I gave a hum of consideration. “Very well, then. Never let it be said that I wasn’t generous. My wisdom is this. You do not want to stand in front of that door.”

Glances went to the entrance behind them. Looks of doubt returned towards me.

“Why’s that, then?”

“I have come to rescue the dragon.”

Whatever trails of laughter threatened to return finally died. The doubt turned to expressions of incredulity.

“... Say that again?”

“I’m aware you have a dragon captive against his will. And while I’ve little knowledge regarding what tragic ploy this ridiculous festival entails, know that any scheme at play is irrelevant. I have come to rescue the dragon.” 

The assembled hoodlums looked around. Some towards each other. Some towards those working around them. Some towards the door they were guarding.

All wore the same disbelief.

Eventually, the chief doorstop furrowed his brows, his hand clenched around his cudgel.

“Ma’am, what you just said is the opposite of wisdom.”

“Is it now?”

“What?”

I clasped both hands against my chest and smiled.

“Here I am, a beautiful maiden with only my loyal handmaiden by my side, at the gate of a mountain lair filled with foes, mystery and hardship still waiting to be sprung. And here you are. The very first rung on the ladder. The first fish bone in a sole au beurre persillé à l'ail. The first doorstop only trusted to wield clubs more likely to strike your own heads than your foes. When the first alarm rings, it is your cry destined to sound it. You have overwhelming numbers, yet utterly no knowledge of who I am. Are you absolutely certain you wish to block my way?”

All at once, the faces paled around me.

Realisation came sharper than any blade they might have wielded as they counted the odds entirely weighted in their favour, against a backdrop still yet to be explored.

And then–

“Oh man. I got something in my eye. I’m squinting so hard. I can’t see a thing.”

“I’m just gonna lean down and tie the laces on my … on my sandals.”

“What’s this weird blot on my robes? Ugh, it’s gonna take ages cleaning this.”

“The sky looks so pretty. Wow. So blue.”

Immediately, a wall of backs turned to me as eyes stared at the ground, at the sky and themselves, all the while a clear gap was left towards the open entrance.

Ohohohohoho!

And how right they were to! 

I was no heroine, but how did they know otherwise? How utterly joyful it was to use Ouzelia’s own unreasonableness against them!

Thus, I accepted the generosity.

“Wait.”

All the way until a lone doorstop failed to understand the nature of this moment. 

I was aggrieved. As were all those around him. An elbow was thrust into his waist by a desperate colleague. Still, he persisted, his gaze squarely upon me.

“You cannot be serious,” I bemoaned. “Surely, you don’t intend to stop me?”

“Uh, no, I don’t.”

“No? Then what is it?”

“Well, I was just hoping you could tell me more about this cult of yours.”

A moment of silence passed.

And then–I clapped my hands in joy.