Chapter 422: Pimple Queen

"Oh! Commander Sigrid!"

Lulu waddled over with surprising speed, her earlier ferocity replaced by pure, childlike enthusiasm.

"Your tail! It’s so beautiful! Even more beautiful up close than it was at the concert! The way the light catches the silver strands—it’s like moonlight woven into hair!"

Sigrid blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "Ah...thank you?"

"Could I—" Lulu hesitated, suddenly shy. "Could I have a few strands? Please? I’ve heard that if you keep a centaur’s tail hair under your bed, it brings really good luck. And I want my baby..."

She touched her belly with both hands.

"...to grow up healthy and strong. Like you. Well, maybe not exactly like you, because that would involve having four legs, which would be very confusing for an elf baby, but—you know what I mean!"

Sigrid stared at her for a moment. Then, slowly, her expression softened into something warm and almost maternal. "Of course, Lulu."

"YOU KNOW MY NAME?!"

"Everyone knows your name. You’re the princess of the elven race."

Lulu puffed out her chest with immense satisfaction.

"Well. Yes. Obviously. I’m very famous. It’s a burden, really, but I bear it with grace."

She then scurried back to the trolley, retrieved one of the cardboard boxes, and presented it to Sigrid with the solemnity of a diplomatic offering.

"For you. In exchange for the hair. I don’t know what it is. But ut’s from my husband’s world, so it will definitely change your life!"

Sigrid accepted the offering gingerly. The smell wafting from the box was nothing short of intoxicating.

"Thank you, Lulu. That’s very generous."

"Generosity is one of my many outstanding qualities! Along with my archery skills, my impeccable fashion sense, and my ability to hold grudges for unreasonably long periods of time."

Sigrid, her heart thoroughly warmed, carefully cut a few strands from her tail and handed them to Lulu.

The elf accepted them as if receiving a sacred relic, tucking them safely into a small pouch at her belt.

Then Lulu noticed Poppy.

Zap!

The two of them locked eyes and there was something between them, some strange resonance, as though their personalities were vibrating on the same wavelength.

Poppy shifted nervously, trying to maintain her queenly dignity.

Lulu, never one to back down, narrowed her eyes.

Then finally, she tiptoed over to Luca and whispered, loudly enough for everyone to hear,

"Hey, Luca. That girl has a really big pimple on her head. She should probably see a doctor about that. It’ll ruin her cute face."

Poppy’s eyes went wide with outrage.

"IT’S NOT A PIMPLE!" She shrieked. "IT’S A HORN! A UNICORN HORN! How dare you call it a pimple!"

"This horn is the sacred symbol of my royal lineage! It has been passed down through generations of unicorn queens for over a THOUSAND YEARS!"

Lulu simply smirked. "Whatever you say, Pimple Queen."

"THAT’S NOT MY TITLE EITHER! I AM THE QUEEN OF THIS VILLAGE! I COULD HAVE YOU THROWN IN THE DUNGEON FOR SUCH DISRESPECT!"

"Oh yeah? Well, I’m a PRINCESS! The princess of the elf race! My royal rank totally beats yours!"

"It does NOT!"

"Does TOO!"

Before Poppy could escalate further, Lulu stuck out her tongue and dragged the trolley through the portal, which closed behind her with a soft pop.

Poppy stood there, fuming with indignant fury.

"That elf bullied me! She insulted my horn! I demand we mobilize the entire army to track her down and bring her to justice!"

Thea placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "My lady, you did call her fat first."

Poppy’s rage deflated instantly.

"I...well...that’s different!"

"Is it?"

Poppy huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine! The queen will be magnanimous today! I’ll let the little elf go with a warning!"

But despite her words, Poppy found herself thinking about Lulu.

The strange elf princess had been...interesting. Exasperating, certainly, but interesting nonetheless.

For some reason, she felt an odd sense of kinship with her, as though they understood each other on some fundamental level.

She wondered when they would meet again.

"Alright." Luca said, clapping his hands together. "The surprise is almost ready. But I need everyone who isn’t an elder and Sigrid to wait outside. Your Majesty..."

He gently began steering Poppy and Thea toward the door.

"...that includes you."

"What?! But I’m the queen!"

"And as queen, you should be with your people, shouldn’t you? Waiting with them? Sharing in their anticipation?"

Poppy opened her mouth to argue before closing it.

"That’s...actually a good point."

The door closed behind them. Luca turned back to the elders, who were watching him with expressions of barely contained hope.

"Are you truly certain this will work, Hero?" Agnes asked, her voice steady but her hands trembling slightly. "If it’s impossible...if you’ve realized it can’t be done...please, just tell us now. We would rather know the truth than cling to false hope."

"Agnes speaks for all of us." Filda added quietly. "We’ve had our hopes raised before. We’ve visited the dryads. Tried every treatment they could offer. Each time, we thought maybe, just maybe this would be the one. And each time..." She shook her head. "Please. If there’s any doubt at all—"

"There’s no doubt." Luca said. His voice was calm. Certain. Absolutely unwavering. "Every single one of you is going to walk out of this hall on your own four legs. No pain. No support. No limitations!"

He snapped his fingers. A portal opened, and from it emerged seven wooden crates that settled onto the floor with soft thuds.

The elders gathered around them like children around a pile of presents.

"What’s inside?"

"Is this the solution?"

"How do we open them?"

"Carefully." Luca said. "Very carefully."

Swords were drawn. Not for battle, but for a far more delicate purpose.

The elders wedged their blades into the seams of the crates and pried the lids. Wood creaked. Nails protested. And then—

Gasps rippled through the room. The elders stared into the crates with expressions of pure, unadulterated wonder.

"By the ancestors..."

"What is this?"

"It looks like...like an artifact. A relic from another age!"

"So shiny. Look at the way the light catches the metal."

"And this leather—it’s so smooth. I’ve never felt anything like it!"

"It’s so complicated. More intricate than any device we ever had, even in the old days."

"This is sorcery. It has to be sorcery!"

But before Luca could begin explaining, he noticed Sigrid sitting nearby, watching him with an eager expression.

"What is it?"

"Sit on my back." She said simply.

"What?" Luca was taken aback. "There’s no need for that right now."

"But it’ll be easier for you to address everyone if you’re elevated." She insisted. "And the elders won’t have to strain their necks to look up at you."

Luca shook his head, bemused. "I appreciate the offer, but I need to do some hands-on work right now. I can’t do that while sitting on your back."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Sigrid’s face.

"I see." She said quietly, rising and moving away.

Luca stared after her, utterly baffled.

Had proud, dignified Sigrid actually been disappointed that she couldn’t serve as his seat?

The woman who had once considered being ridden the ultimate humiliation?

’What has changed?’ He wondered.

But he had to think about it later as he had work to do.

Turning back to the crates, he began explaining the devices to the eager elders.

"These devices will change your lives forever. As long as you wear them on your legs, you’ll be able to gallop through the fields just like you did in your youth."

The elders’ tails lashed with excitement, their hooves stamping against the floor.

"However." Luca continued, his expression becoming slightly awkward. "I’ll need to fit them onto you personally. That means I’ll have to remove some of your clothing and touch your equine bodies to properly adjust the fittings."

"I don’t mind at all, but I understand if you’re uncomfortable with—"

The elders burst out laughing.

"Hero, after what you’ve promised us, you could strip me naked and paint me purple and I wouldn’t complain!" Filda declared.

"Modesty went out the window the moment you said the word ’gallop’." Another added.

Agnes stepped forward, her expression calm but her eyes bright with emotion.

"Hero. A little exposed skin is nothing compared to the dream of being able to run once again." She placed a hand over her heart. "Please. Do what you need to do. We trust you completely."

Luca smiled. "Well then. Let’s get to work."

---

One hour later, the village square was packed.

Nearly a hundred centaurs had gathered—mothers and daughters, warriors and attendants, the young and the old and everyone in between. .

They had been summoned by the elders with no explanation beyond "come to the square at sunset." and the mystery had drawn them like moths to a flame.

"Why were we summoned here?"

"Has something happened?"

"Maybe a guest is arriving? Someone important?"

"If it were a guest, we would have been told to prepare a formal welcome. This is different."

"A threat, then?"

"If it were a threat, we’d be in armor. Look around—everyone’s in casual wear."

"So what is it?!"

Nella and her little ponies, meanwhile, had seized the opportunity to show off their prized possessions.

They moved through the crowd like tiny sales representatives, holding up their apple juice cartons for everyone to admire.

"Look! Look what the Evil Hero gave us!"

"It’s apple juice! In a box!"

"The straw is so tiny and clever! You poke it through this little hole and then you sip and it’s like magic!"

"I’ve got three boxes left! I’m rationing them! One sip per day!"

Riley, standing nearby with her own group of friends, was having a considerably less pleasant time.

The older centaurs had gotten wind of the breast milk incident, and they were not letting her forget it.

"So, Riley." One of them called out, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "I heard the Hero gave you a very special drink today. Not apple juice, was it? Something...whiter? Creamier?"

Riley’s face went red. "Shut up!"

"I heard you called it the most delicious thing you’d ever tasted."

"I did not!"

"That’s not what my daughter told me. She said you were practically swooning."

"Your daughter is a liar!"

"It’s alright, Riley. There’s no shame in enjoying a nice glass of warm, creamy—"

"I SWEAR TO THE ANCESTORS, IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE—"

Nella’s mother, Claudia had also joined the conversation.

"Riley, I’m just curious. Was it truly as delicious as they said? I heard you were all in absolute ecstasy. ’Better than nectar from the heavens,’ someone said. ’Like drinking warm vanilla clouds.’"

"Sister, PLEASE—"

"I’m only asking. I have a right to know what her sister is drinking."

"It was breast milk, okay! BREAST MILK! From the Queen of the Elves! I drank another woman’s breast milk and now I can never show my face in polite society again! Are you HAPPY?!"

Claudia sister considered this for a moment. "Was it good, though?"

Riley made a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a sob. Deep in her heart, in a place she would never admit existed, she knew the truth: the milk had been absolutely divine, and she wanted more of it.

But there was absolutely no chance that she could ever go to the Queen of the Elven race and ask for a refill. The elves would probably shoot her on sight for such a rude request.

And this was all Luca’s fault!

He had shown her something amazing, and then immediately made it impossible for her to ever have it again.

She was going to beat him up. Eventually. When she figured out how.

But just as she was wracking her her to make a plan, a curious voice cut through the mix.

"...What’s this I hear about breast milk?"

Every centaur in the vicinity turned at once.

Mavis had arrived!