Chapter 33: Princess Mia... Tells a Doozy of a Spooky Story

The burning wood crackled and popped. A gentle breeze fanned the enormous bonfire, causing it to illuminate the surrounding beach in a flickering orange light. Mia sat on a blanket spread across the sand, arms around her knees as she stared into the empty air, eyes glassy with fatigue. Her noontime training session had robbed her of all stamina, and it was all she could do to keep her eyelids from closing. Even if they did though, it would be all right; she’d already done everything she needed to do. She’d bathed in the sea and enjoyed a fine dinner that lived up to the Greenmoons’ fine reputation. Body clean and stomach full, all that remained was to crawl into a tent they’d set up a little ways from shore and sleep. There was, however, something about this brief period between wakefulness and slumber that stayed her feet. Shadows danced amidst the wavering glow of the flame. The atmosphere was peaceful and a little hypnotizing.

How magical... she thought before letting out a yawn. Still, I think I’m at my limit. Time to snooze...

Just as she was about to stand, Esmeralda’s voice pierced the quiet ambience.

“Now then... I think it’s time to begin,” she said in a low, hushed voice.

“Begin? Hm? Begin what?”

Mia glanced at her, one eyelid raised halfway. Esmeralda nodded, the motion slow and deliberate, before her lips spread in a sinister grin.

“Telling spooky stories, of course.”

“...Eh?”

“Look around you. Campfire. Summer night. Vacation on a deserted island. What else would we possibly do?”

“My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy such silly activities!” The suggestion had caught Mia off guard. She looked out across the darkening sea, then glanced at the rustling leaves of the forest. The creepy atmosphere made it seem like strange monsters might be hiding in the shadows just out of view. Mia, of course, didn’t believe in ghosts and monsters, so she wasn’t scared.

I’m not scared at all. In fact, this is all very silly. Spooky stories? Hmph, only children enjoy telling spooky stories! I don’t mind listening, of course. I can listen all night. But I wouldn’t want people to lump me together with her and assume I’m actually enjoying it. Maybe I should voice some opposition to this idea? A lot of opposition, even.

Ignoring what seemed very much like a nervous twitch in her cheek, she put on a smile.

“Wh-Why, you’re like a child, Esmeralda, getting so worked up about something like that.”

“My, Miss Mia, don’t tell me... Are you scared?”

“S-S-Scared? Who, me? I’m not scared.”

“Then there’s no problem, right? Feel free to listen along and amuse yourself with our childish stories.”

“But— Hnnnngh...”

She barely lasted three sentences before Esmeralda checkmated her.

“As the one who proposed the idea, I’ll start us off with an extra spooky one—”

“Hold it, Esmeralda,” she hurriedly said.

Judging by how eager she is, she must really like scary stories... Chances are, she’s probably heard tons of really spooky ones from her classmates. Who can sleep after hearing something like that? Not Anne, at least! I’m worried about Anne!

Esmeralda had been rather hostile toward Anne on the yacht. This was surely a continuation of her attempt to terrorize the poor girl. In an act of altruism, Mia boldly resolved to shield her loyal maid from further torment. It was definitely altruistic and not at all because she was scared to hear the story.

The problem is...who do I call on? Mia looked at each of the other faces in turn. Sion...is an all-around overachiever, so he’s probably good at telling spooky scares too. Keithwood... Hmph, he’s got the kind of face that attracts girls. If they’ve asked him to tell stories like these before, then there’s a good chance he’ll have had plenty of practice. As for Abel... He might know some creepy folktales from Remno or something.

The thing about spooky stories was that they often followed patterns. The more predictable a story, the less scary it was. A strange story from a foreign land though... That was a whole new level of scary. There was no way she’d get any sleep after hearing something like that.

Anne, that is. Anne wouldn’t get any sleep. And considering what he did on the boat, Abel definitely has a mischievous side. If something flips his switch, he might try extra hard to scare us and tell an extra scary story. He’s definitely a risky card to play!

That left her with only one option.

“If I may be so bold, I’d like to tell the first story.”

Her plan was exceedingly simple. She was going to come up with a story that took a long time to tell, thereby reducing the amount of time everyone else had. Since it was her story, she wouldn’t be scared. By she, she meant Anne, of course. It did occur to her that her logic was maybe starting to fray at this point, but she chose not to sweat the small stuff. The big picture was what mattered.

What should I do though? I don’t really listen to spooky stories... Not because I’m scared. It’s because a lot of them are silly...

After a period of contemplation, she began to speak in a soft voice...

“This is a story...about a princess who died at the guillotine.”

...about her own experiences!

She recounted her past life, adding some embellishments here and there for effect. Since the point was to take up a lot of time, she fervently searched through the deepest recesses of her memory, digging up story after story as she tried to weave them all into a long and reasonably coherent narrative. She went on and on, describing the headless ghost that appeared in the castle and the tale it told, the bloody diary it left behind, the dread and agony leading up to the day of the guillotine, and the despair of that terrible instant when the iron blade fell... She told it with flair, her voice mournful in one moment and spine-chilling the next. As she spoke, the expressions of the others began to grow strained.

Hm? Am I actually scaring them with my story? Oho. Well then...

The fear in their faces caused something in her to stir. It was a sense of excitement. Scaring people, she realized, was actually kind of thrilling. She continued her story with heightened passion, voice intense and motions more dramatic. The stage was hers, and she was on a roll. On and on she went, talking and gesturing to the increasing horror of her audience.

She finished to the sound of crickets. The crowd was dead silent.

Wow, they’re scared stiff. My story must have been really spooky...

Clearly, it was a job well done. She was feeling pretty good about herself until she received her first comment.

“The way you told that... It was as if you had firsthand experience... Especially the guillotine part...”

It came from Sion, and it pulled her out of her self-satisfied reverie. She took another look at her audience’s faces and realized that she’d made a terrible mistake. They weren’t scared of her story. They were scared of her! Because her hyperrealistic description of the guillotine was creeping them out! It was unnervingly visceral, detailing everything from the smells and sounds of the crowd gathered to watch the execution to the sensation of the blade slicing into her neck. Her words had an uncanny veracity, too real—too gruesome—for the delicate psyches of her genteel friends.

“W-Well, we all know how much Miss Mia likes her tall tales. I suppose it makes sense for her to also have, uh...a very colorful imagination.”

In the end, it was Esmeralda who came to the rescue, offering everyone an explanation that didn’t require them to start harboring serious doubts about Mia’s sanity.

Keithwood pursed his lips as he tried to make sense of Mia’s rambling narrative. He’d been listening in as he tended to some final preparations for the night. At first, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. For a spooky story, it wasn’t particularly spooky. Or, for that matter, much of a story. After some consideration, it clicked.

Aaah, I see what the princess is doing. This is a cautionary tale. She’s delivering a subtle admonishment of Lady Esmeralda’s behavior under the guise of a campfire story.

Criticism has a better chance of permeating the mental barriers of the close-minded when framed as a story. It was an effective method, frequently employed by the Central Orthodox Church’s priests. Even Rafina made use of parables when preaching the teachings of God, and Mia clearly wasn’t above a little mimicry as a means to an end. It made perfect sense, especially considering the essence of Mia’s character (as understood by Keithwood) was a stubborn refusal to abandon others to their flaws. She both believed in their potential to be better people and tried to help them realize it. Given that Esmeralda was her friend, she could hardly turn a blind eye to her behavior.

And so she went and cooked up this whole story about an arrogant princess and her foolish ways. The moral’s pretty simple. Don’t ignore your people, or you’ll end up like her one day. I have to admit though, she ripped into that princess pretty hard, what with the whole “If there’s no bread, then let them eat cake” line. Even Esmeralda isn’t clueless enough to blurt out something like that. I guess she did balance things out a little by making the girl put in an honest effort to fix things after her empire started collapsing. It’s good narrative practice to imbue your characters with at least a couple virtues...

His interest now fully piqued, he glanced at the story’s intended protagonist.

The problem, then, is whether Esmeralda will realize this story’s about her.

The person in question proceeded to leap eagerly to her feet.

“All right, I’m next! Now, as for my story...” Esmeralda said as she pressed a hand to her chest and grinned. “Allow me to tell a humble tale about an island...and the horrors said to haunt it.”

Chuckling to himself, Keithwood shook his head. Mia’s attempt, it seemed, had failed to achieve its intended result.

Meanwhile, Mia was resisting the urge to pull at her hair in frustration. Her attempt had indeed failed to achieve its intended result, albeit a different one than what Keithwood presumed. She’d paced her story poorly, ending too early to prevent Esmeralda from telling hers.

Ugh, I just made a terrible mistake...

There was, however, no longer anything she could do. Esmeralda began with a flourish.

“This is an old Ganudos folktale, told and retold by its people...and it’s about the ghosts of cultists that roam the land...” She lowered her voice, adopting an ominous tone for narration. “Long long ago, long before our empire was built, there was a cult driven out of their homeland, which lay somewhere across the sea. As they fled their pursuers, hating both their country and its people, they happened upon a deserted island and went into hiding. It was an island just like the one we’re on right now, and there they bided their time, swearing to one day return to their country to take revenge upon those they hated. To fuel their malice, they even built a secret underground shrine to worship the Archdaemon. But...”

She paused. Only after looking at the faces of each audience member in turn did she continue.

“They never made it back. The cultists perished there, leaving only their bitter hatred behind. Some say that their ghosts, vengeful and malevolent, roam the island to this day. And that island...might be the very one we’re on right now.”

The wind whistled, almost like a woeful moan. Fueled by this gust, the fire roared, throwing angry sparks into the air.

“Eeek!”

Mia flinched back with a gasp. Then, ever so quietly, she reached behind her and grabbed the hem of Anne’s skirt. It was, of course, an act of kindness, done out of concern for her maid. Anne, noticing the tug, gently pressed her hand over Mia’s.

“It looks like the wind’s picking up,” said Abel, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice.

The faces of their guards were also clouded with worry as they glanced around.

“At this rate, it’ll be a stormy night out at sea too,” said Sion. “Is your yacht going to be all right?”

“There is no need for concern, Prince Sion. It’ll take more than a little wind to sink that vessel. I’ve also made sure to employ a very experienced captain. Everything will be fine,” replied Esmeralda with supreme confidence.