Page 151 of I Ran Away to Evil
“The arachne have sent the cloth you like, Mistress.” Rinrin waved forward a pair of primly dressed ratkin assistants, each holding a bolt of shimmering fabric in a color somewhere between dark blue and purple. “Just in time, too. We are fortunate that the weather has been so sunny and warm. Yes-yes, this will do nicely.”
Rinrin had taken over tailoring my clothes up to this point, turning the previous Queen of the Dark Enchanted Forest’s wardrobe into the current fashion for me to use. I’d only given her a general idea on my Spring Ball gown and apparently, she wasn’t fixing up an old piece but making me a new one! Some of the pieces were already cut out based on my previous measurements. There were … alotof pieces.
“Oh, Rinrin, this is too much!”
“Tsk,” went the ratkin. “Rinrin has only just begun. Now come stand here. Still! Still, and this one won’t stab you.”
She had silk pins clenched between her fingers in one hand, and a pair of long, sharp scissors in the other. I gulped. “Alright. Just let me change out of my shoes …”
My pair of beautiful low-heel calf-high boots were presented before me, black and embroidered all over with roses of silver and blue threads. The young ratkin bobbed a quick bow, “Here, quick-quick, Princess.”
I accepted my fate and put on the boots, then stood perfectly still as the group ran around pinning and trimming fabric all over me. I wasn’t pricked even once.
After all was said and done, I collapsed into bed smiling.
Happy Birthday to me.
CHAPTER 90
That Wasn’t Becoming of a Dark Lord
Keith
This is your newest Potts’s Cast.
Mount Vemund is going to have a high drop rate for porous clay this week; those skilled in pottery and sculpting terracotta earthenware can find chunks falling off the mountain in Martin’s Grotto.
Sumbria might be making a last-minute appearance at the Spring Ball. Countess Peregrine Fern just lost her fiancé to pirates. The young Lord Geoffrey was a terror, so I congratulate the woman on dodging that bullet, erm, arrow. Countess Peregrine can take over for Julia, who is no longer on the market.
Speaking of the ball, this caster has it on the best authority that Lavender the Lizard Wizard will be pouring drinks and putting on a magic show. Anyone hoping to meet the legend will have to wait in line.
There is a 140% crit rate when using spear attacks in the Depths of Despair Dungeon this month, so get out there and start farming EXP!
Knight Commander Bastian of Peldeep won a bolt of pink silk from the St. Veralyn’s Day Crafting Competition with his 108 hand-sewn toys, including dolls, balls, stuffed animals, and play food. He donated all of the toys to orphans. I don’t know about the rest of you good gentles, but I’m excited to see what the knight commander does with all that pink silk.
There will be a stampede of capybara next week, as they’ll be disturbed from their home by poachers. The capybara are friendly creatures and will need to be rounded up and returned to their natural habitat. There is going to be a shortage of carrots in Sumbria next month unless something is done.
This is Madame Potts’s Cast,
Until next time, dear listeners.
Keith read the report and sighed. Things were finally settling down after the war—if anyone could even call it a war—and his mind was on paperwork and proposals.
Chloe was in full dragon-bride mode, sending in requests for more and more ridiculous decorations. Keith was nervous about having the wedding so close to an actual dragon, but on second thought, Feliwyn would probably enjoy the idea of sleeping through a royal wedding.
He’d have to discuss things with Grand Duchess Calisto during the Spring Ball, or after the ball if she was too busy. He also wanted to create some new golems for the laundry room. He was doodling designs on a notepad at his desk when Gimtak flew in.
“Your Viciousness, another delivery for the princess.” The imp whipped out a sealed letter and flapped it about.
Keith sighed, recognizing the seal. “Toss it with the rest.”
Gimtak nodded, flying over to a small basket on the floor by the window. In it were all of the letters from the king and queen of Drendil. They were exhausting to read, and he’d run out of any desire to look at the things, let alone waste the mana required to light them on fire.
And he really shouldn’t burn them without reading first. So he’d been putting them in a basket and contemplating making one of his minions sort them out as a punishment … but then, said minion would be reading Henrietta’s mail, and that wouldn’t do.
“My liege, perhaps you could ask the princess?” Gimtak offered, eyeing the pile.
“But I told her I’d handle it,” Keith argued. “She doesn’t wish to receive any mail.”
