The diminutive warlock watched through unblinking glass eyes, as Princess Tamyan de Orburh undressed for bed, adding her formal clothes to the pile in the corner for the servants to take care of in the morning. He almost felt bad about doing this, until the dark-haired princess walked by him, completely naked, to the wardrobe. Ah, Wellby, this is certainly one of the perks of this job.

He admired the soft curves of her bare breasts in profile as she reached up to take her nightgown off the hook, before turning away to pull on the translucent silk garment, letting him admire the way her hair drifted against the smooth skin of her back, and the youthful, slim curves of her waist, hips, and buttocks. Yes, the princess has grown into a beautiful young woman.

She hadn't even noticed he'd taken the place of one of her old dolls. They were quite expensive, being gifts from visiting royalty, but he'd tossed one straight into the midden before becoming its doppleganger. If I could tell her I performed a trick like that on one of the other ladies of the court, oh how she'd laugh.

Wellby had worked around and with the royal court for years. When he was first introduced to the princess, she was fourteen, with a childlike trust and innocence, plus a love of pranks, which he'd helped foster over the next five years. At every royal ball, they made a tradition of sharing the tricks they'd played since the last time they'd danced together. Ah, how she laughed- warmly and openly, with him, instead of at him. Wellby knew it was a ridiculous sight to the members of the royal court, Princess Tamyan dancing and tittering with a halfling noble barely more than half her height- especially since his nobility was only granted by a slightly dubious knighthood received by recommendation from the Chancellor for "services rendered." Wellby had taken note of the ones who had laughed, though, every time. They didn't laugh the next time. The sight of the adolescent princess taking the hand of the tinier nobleman in well-tailored finery became common. Afterwards Wellby made certain to dance with the other ladies as well, and found them a lot more open to his suggestions and double-entendres when they knew he had the ear of the Princess of Orburh. He definitely enjoyed the evenings after most royal events. Of course he was using the princess, but that didn't mean he wasn't fond of her- he used everybody.

The princess climbed into bed, and blew out her lantern. Wellby waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then a bit longer till the sounds of the servants wandering the halls faded. He nimbly slid down from the shelf, and his body and features shifted as he assumed another form familiar to young Princess Tamyan- his own... or at least the one he presented to everyone he knew. He moved the pile of clothes out of the way. Those hooped skirts could hide quite a bit, even his large trunk, and he recovered his cane from beside it.

"Princess, wake up," he said softly as he stepped to her bedside.

She murmured, then woke and tried to look around in the darkness, until she gasped as she saw the small figure beside her. "Oh! Sir Witlocke!" She smiled, then her eyes widened, as she realized- "What are you doing in my bedchamber?!"

"Shhh, Highness- I am performing a grand prank, one which you will very much enjoy." He could see her eyes start to twinkle in the darkness.

The princess sat up, and rose from her bed, then bent down to whisper, "Oh, please, Sir Witlocke, tell me- am I to help?"

"You are, my Lady Tamyan." Wellby grasped the orb on the end of his cane, and it glowed faintly under his fingers. His eyes took on the same unsettling, swirling clouds that moved within the orb, and he locked onto her gaze. "First, though, I need you to sleep."

She stood and stiffened, her eyes closing as she fell into a trance. Wellby pulled the chest from the corner and opened the lid. "Please, my Lady, climb inside." He took her hand and helped her in. She curled up on the bottom, smiling faintly, as he pulled his component bag out from beside her. He lit the candle, and murmured some ancient words as he sprinkled the mandrake dust into the flame, then looked down at the princess, laying on her back, knees bent, legs together. Her nipples were hard in the cold, poking through the translucent silk of her gown, which had ridden all the way up her hips, revealing the soft, dark fuzz of her pubic hair between the tops of her inner thighs.

"Ah, you are lovely, Princess Tamyan, and it is a pity what has to happen now."

The spell took hold, and the rise and fall of her chest slowed, then stopped. Her skin turned even paler, and her lips took a bluish hue. The feigned death would, ironically, keep her alive for what he was about to do.

Wellby shut the chest, and locked it tightly, closing the girl inside. He tapped his cane on the sides, then pressed on them, and the chest slowly folded inwards, the container collapsing flat under his touch, along with the helpless princess within it. He wondered what she looked like now, but opening the lid at this point might prove fatal for her. Instead, he rubbed the orb on his cane over the lid, and the whole flat chest seemed to transform to felt. He folded it once, twice, then several more times, before pressing it between his hands. When he opened them, the chest was but a small, single piece of floppy felt. He slipped it- and its occupant- inside his vest.

Just a few more minor details to attend to, Wellby smiled, as his body shifted again, skin turning greener, ears much pointier, his hair darkening to black, receding, shortening itself as it took on the texture of a coarse brush. He glanced into the princess's full length mirror to see a beady-eyed goblin looking back, its sharp teeth exposed in his wicked grin.

The warlock twisted the top of his cane, and slid off the bottom to unsheathe the blade it concealed. A few slashes to the bedsheets made it look like there'd been a struggle- the princess would have appreciated the credit- then he dropped a piece of a ripped uniform from his bag onto the floor, making sure the rough emblem of the black dragon's head was visible, before climbing out the window and into the night. As a means to consolidate the people of Orburh against the goblin menace, it was a rather silly ruse, but it was what the Chancellor had asked him to do. Wellby trusted the Chancellor himself would steer the investigation and the conversations in the proper direction so that the patch's existence, rather than its placement, was the important part. Anyway, it was only the first half of the plan.

Wellby made his way to the docks, where he found his small boat hidden just where he'd left it. Above him, the moon passed behind the clouds, and when it emerged, the warlock had shifted his appearance again. Ambassador Hamis started rowing quickly back to the small sloop a few miles offshore, where that group of adventurers who'd been assigned to be his bodyguard awaited. Within the hour, they all would be heading south to the Kingdom of Tayhrst, Throne of the Gods.

He supposed he'd have to let them in on at least part of the plot. After all, the princess needed to be unfolded before the spell wore off- it would never do for the son of the Caliph of Tayhrst to receive his new bride mangled, flattened, and suffocated. If that happened, Ambassador Hamis, ne Sir Wellby Witlocke, was pretty sure even his golden tongue couldn't convince Tayhrst to ally with Orburh.