Xenoverse origins / R-086
Misty MireOrigin story
Misty Mire and the Smallest Crown
A collector who has exaggerated her favorite specimen's importance must manage a ceremonial succession after the Council's crown takes her praise literally.
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Misty Mire had called the leech distinguished because it disliked being hurried. She had called it discerning because it refused a polished display dish. These harmless improvements to the truth became less harmless when the Goblin Council sent a crown small enough to fit its jar.
Misty Mire's praise for an ordinary specimen becomes a constitutional problem when a ceremonial crown recognizes it as a ruler.
I said it was distinguished. I did not say it could govern.
From the dossier
Prologue — A Specimen of Considerable Merit
The Royal Leech Collector's shed stood on a raised platform at the Swamp outpost. Misty kept the jars clean, the lids numbered, and the collecting baskets hung far above the waterline. She also named specimens she knew she ought to identify by lot.
Her favorite was Button, a quiet dark leech with no royal qualities she could establish. It liked shade and the hollow beneath a piece of river wood. When disturbed, it moved somewhere less convenient. Misty found this sensible and told visitors so.
Councillor Rusk had toured the collection during a season of official enthusiasm for inexpensive symbols. He and Misty had argued over replacement jars before; this visit he remembered her name and asked her opinion. Which specimen best represented the Council? Tired of hearing him describe every living thing as replaceable, she pointed to Button and said it possessed uncommon dignity.
Rusk's next letter addressed Misty as the discoverer of an exceptional specimen. Its congratulations occupied an entire page. She read it twice, increasingly worried by the absence of a request.
The request arrived separately. Button would receive the Little Crown at a ceremony celebrating service.
Misty prepared a plain glass bowl and intended to refuse anything that disturbed the animal. Then she read the invitation list. Her shed's leaking roof had been ignored for months. Suddenly the official responsible for repairs was coming to admire her work.
She accepted the ceremony.
At the bottom of the crown's case, beneath purple velvet, lay a small warning card. Rusk's aide used it to level the refreshments table.
Act 1
The Appointment That Moved
Act I — The Appointment That Moved
Misty arrived at the ceremonial platform carrying Button's bowl against her raincoat. The leech rested beneath its familiar piece of wood. Rusk had arranged a miniature throne, a cushion, and a speech comparing public service to tireless devotion.
Misty objected to the throne. Button had no use for furniture and would not remain where placed merely because someone had embroidered the seat.
Rusk agreed that an innovative approach was welcome. He put the crown on the bowl's rim instead.
The Little Crown rolled once, tipped inward, and settled around the submerged piece of wood. Button moved through its center.
Every official on the platform knelt.
Misty caught the bowl before she followed them. Her knees bent against her will. The crown flashed beneath the water, and the Council's ceremonial banner folded itself into a much smaller shape.
Rusk tried to stand. His chair lowered until he was kneeling again.
The royal herald consulted his script. It now named Button as the recognized bearer of the Little Crown and all present as available advisers. The herald crossed out Button. The word reappeared in larger letters.
Misty looked at Rusk. "I said it was distinguished. I did not say it could govern."
The leech slid deeper beneath the wood.
The platform interpreted this as a request for privacy. Curtains dropped around the bowl. The refreshments table moved backward. Rusk's polished speech transformed into a petition for permission to speak.
The crowd outside began cheering. They could not see what had happened and assumed that everyone important kneeling meant the ceremony was going particularly well.
Misty crouched behind the curtain and searched the velvet case for the instructions nobody had bothered to read.
Act 2
A Court with No Interest in Advice
Act II — A Court with No Interest in Advice
The warning card described the Little Crown as a retired succession charm. It recognized the first living bearer placed within its circle. Size did not affect authority, and authority did not imply competence. The final sentence had been underlined by someone with a strong grip.
Removing the crown would require the bearer's assent. The charm recognized acts, not speeches, because several previous holders had discovered the convenience of saying one thing while doing another.
Button had no interest in assenting to constitutional repairs.
Rusk ordered Misty to interpret its wishes. He promised the shed roof, a permanent assistant, and a ceremonial title. For a moment she imagined saying that Button demanded all three. Nobody could contradict a creature whose most visible opinion concerned the underside of a piece of wood.
She might finally obtain everything the collection needed.
Then the herald asked whether the new ruler wished to inspect the assembled officials. A silver tray slid beneath the bowl, ready to carry it into the heat and noise outside. Button tightened against the wood. Misty covered the glass with her hand.
She had brought it here because she wanted her work to matter to people who controlled the roof. Button had not volunteered to become her most persuasive application.
"The specimen wants less of this," she said.
Rusk dismissed that as insufficiently specific.
Misty asked for the platform emptied. The officials protested, negotiated, and reminded her of her position. She opened the curtain. The crowd saw them kneeling before an ordinary glass bowl.
The cheering stopped. Someone near the front asked whether the refreshments were still available.
Misty described exactly what had happened, including her original exaggeration. She did not call Button extraordinary, wise, or symbolic. She called it a leech that had been brought somewhere unsuitable.
The court magician began laughing so hard that his official hat fell off. Then, at last, he told her something useful: a sovereign could leave the Little Crown by choosing an ordinary place over the place of honor.
Act 3
A Throne Left Vacant
Act III — A Throne Left Vacant
Misty moved Button's bowl onto her collecting cart and placed the crown's small throne beside it. The charm arranged both as royal furniture. She removed the velvet, the tassels, and the embroidered cushion. Each item tried to crawl back.
The magician watched with the delight of someone finally seeing his profession create work for other people.
Misty fetched a scuffed transport jar from the cart's lower shelf. It had no crest, no polished stand, and no promised importance. Inside was a dark shelter like the one Button used in the shed.
She set it alongside the bowl and waited.
Rusk urged her to hurry. Misty told him he could practice waiting while the entire Council was already at the correct height. The herald lowered his face to hide a smile.
Button moved when the noise subsided. It left the crowned wood, passed into the ordinary jar, and settled in the shade.
The Little Crown rang like a spoon striking a cup. The officials stood at once, then pretended they had been stretching. The banner recovered its size. The miniature throne remained empty.
Rusk demanded that the incident be described as a successful demonstration of voluntary succession. Misty refused to supply the word voluntary on Button's behalf. She signed only a specimen return.
The roof repair did not materialize. The collection did acquire an assistant: the herald, reassigned after being heard laughing at the wrong moment. He arrived at the shed with excellent handwriting and no practical experience. Misty showed him where the empty jars belonged.
She kept Button's familiar name. She stopped assigning it virtues.
The crown was locked in the shed's Council cabinet pending collection. That should have ended the matter.
The first petition arrived the next morning, folded small enough to fit beneath the cabinet door. It requested relief from a tax on rainwater. By noon there were six more. The writers had learned that the smallest court in the Swamp had briefly made important people kneel.
Misty placed the petitions in a dry box.
When the herald asked who would answer them, a tiny bell sounded from inside the locked cabinet.
The throne, apparently, was still accepting applications.
A royal collection without royal judgment
Misty collects fictional specimens for the Swamp outpost. An enchanted ceremony confuses the Council's ownership with a creature's willingness to represent it, leaving the collector responsible for both a jar and an unexpected court.