The Great Conspiracy

Also by humblely

"She's annoying me again, Advisor Wessle!"

     An irritated brown Acara rushed into the room. Hoping not to be brought into whatever issues the Acara had, he slouched further on his chair. Advisor Wessle failed to stifle a yawn. He cringed, knowing that the Acara had heard it.

     "Wessle! I know you're in here. You're behind this; aren't you? Well, I'll have you know that I don't appreciate it. Wessle, fix this mess!" The elder Acara grabbed the collar of the advisor's white Lost Desert shirt. At the same time a Lost Desert painted Aisha pranced in. Advisor Wessle groaned.

     "Barca, I - " The Kyrii found himself uncomfortably jerked from his comfortable seat. He felt himself start to sweat a little as he looked into his compatriot's angry glare. "What's wrong? You can't just rip your fellow councilors from their sanctuaries! State your purpose!"

     Senator Barca released her grip. "Vyssa is the problem, that's what! Her great empress-ness is at it again!"

     Wessle scratched his thick mane and adjusted himself to face the Acara. "Hmm... yes, she's annoying you again?"

     "And for what?" She answered her own question. "She's been asking me to help her pick out her outfit again before she inspects that new pyramid they're building!"

     "Oh there you are, Senator Barca, Advisor Wessle! Oh this is great…brilliant. You can help me too," chirped Empress Vyssa with a large grin. Senator Barca simply gave the Kyrii a look. The Kyrii groaned again and rubbed his face with a paw.

     "Your majesty, I thought I told you that I'm color-blind, so I can't help you," muttered Advisor Wessle. The Acara chuckled.

     "I told her majesty that you are very fashionable, despite your 'disabilities.'" The Kyrii gave Senator Barca a glare.

     "Exactly. I require your assistance immediately," stated the Usul as she grabbed both paws towards the hallway. "I need to look good. You both are going to help me, like you helped my father." At the same time, the members of the council coughed loudly. Vyssa ignored them and continued to drag them towards her dressing room.

     "Not again," grumbled Wessle. He leaned towards the brown Acara and whispered, "Honestly, I know she's the big boss gal, but that doesn't mean we get to be her lackeys all the time!"

     "'Lackey' is an understatement," said Barca.

     "Exactly!"

     Vyssa stopped and turned to the two of them. "What have you been murmuring about behind my back?"

     "The Sand Banana exports!" was the first excuse that popped into Senator Barca's head. But soon she and the Kyrii found themselves being shoved into the Usul's regal bedroom.

     An hour later...

     "Your majesty, I told you that the dress looks very good on you," said the Acara. "Even Advisor Wessle agrees with me." She nudged the brown Kyrii who was snoring.

     "Wh - Oh, yeah. I agree. Whatever Senator Barca said," piped up the Kyrii with tired eyes. The Usul whirled around in a pink satin dress.

     "Good isn't good enough. I have to look absolutely MARVELOUS!" shrieked the Empress which caused a group of worried soldiers to come in to see what the commotion was about.

     * * *

     "Senator Barca, we have to do something about Empress Vyssa. She's too... spoiled. Augh. I can NOT spend another day with her. We're not her wardrobe designers. We're her council members. I'm surprised she hasn't gotten to the others. Why?"

     "Not gotten to the others? Why, dear, the others have feigned sickness the past month, ever since she became Empress of the Lost Desert."

     Advisor Wessle scratched his head. "You know what we need? We need to teach her a lesson, that she can't just boss us around unless she really needs to."

     "Okay then, how?" asked the Acara.

     The Kyrii stifled a laugh. "Senator, I have just the plan. Hopefully after this, the empress will think twice before dragging us from important business to bombard us with questions about her outfits!"

     He grabbed Senator Barca and began whispering into her ear. A slow smile spread across their faces as they stopped talking, and they had to try their best to keep straight faces as a servant Kacheek walked past, polishing a nearby vase.

     * * *

     A scream pierced the hallways of the Lost Desert Palace. Soldiers and servants rushed into the room where the scream had come from. When they had entered the room, they saw the figure of a Usul lying limply on her canopy.

     "She's dead!"

     "Someone's murdered her!"

     "Quick, get the doctor!"

     The Usul rolled over. The soldiers and the servants screamed.

     "You idiots! I'm perfectly fine," chided Vyssa with tears streaming down her face. "It's just that I got this letter from the 'Very Secret Pretty Princess Convention'!"

     Unknown to the Usul, two figures who were isolated from the crowd were watching carefully.

     Senator Barca clapped her paw sharply over Wessle's mouth before he could burst out laughing. "If she finds out... "

     The Kyrii nodded as they watched Vyssa light up and begin bouncing about excitedly like a toddler. The two heard her say, "I've got to find something to wear that'll make me look absolutely pretty!"

     This time, even the Acara couldn't stifle her giggles. She dragged her comrade to a farther spot and there they started to laugh their heads off.

     "Secret... Pretty Princess... " choked Wessle, glad that nobody was holding his mouth shut.

     "That's rich!" said Barca, rolling about on the floor. "I can't believe it!"

     "So... should we follow her and see what happens?" asked the Kyrii advisor.

     The brown Acara stared at him. "What, are you crazy? No wait... on second thought, I don't want to miss a single minute of this! Let's go!"

     "What do we tell the servants, in case someone comes looking for us?"

     "Tell them we're on an important assignment, that's what! We'll leave notes. Then that's it. Now come ON! I want to see the look on her face when she finds out... "

     * * *

     "I think I should've worn a different robe. This one easily gets ripped. And since the Haunted Woods is full of those cliché thorny vines... "

     "Shush, Barca. We must not be seen!"

     The two conspirators were closely tailing Vyssa as she looked for the location pinpointed on her forged invite, which was actually also made up by Senator Barca and Advisor Wessle. Unfortunately, staying hidden in the Haunted Woods had its disadvantages, and it was hard to concentrate when a branch was literally pulling your leg.

     The desert Usul pranced ahead unaware of any schemes. She hummed a little tune, and her tail happily wagged back and forth.

     All around her, the trees swayed with their branches, causing the illusions of monsters. This would normally scare Vyssa who was hated to be out late in the darkness, but she was too caught up in her excitement. Soon glowing red eyes appeared among the bushes.

     Vyssa stopped walking. She looked around, and then looked down at a card that she held with one of her paws.

     "Hmm... the convention is supposed to be right around here. No one's here, though... ah ha. There's a door right there! My fan club MUST be in there!" Vyssa squealed. She marched proudly towards a broken down house which seemed to be infested with bugs.

     "Eww," whispered Barca to Wessle. "Now, if that house was in the Lost Desert, it would have been disposed of immediately."

     "Hello?" The Usul knocked on the door. The house came crumbling down like a deck of TCG cards. "Oopsies," said Vyssa with an unapologetic smile. She quickly skipped to the next nearest house. This time, a green Zafara was stirring a large black cauldron of green goo.

     "She is really ugly. I'm glad that the Lost Desert doesn't have weird people like her," commented Wessle, pulling a tree branch off of his shoulder.

     "Hello my pretty," cackled Edna, her eyes glittering mischievously. "How would the pretty Usul like to be cooked... ?" Edna blurted out.

     "Huh?"

     "I mean, would you like to do a quest for little old me?"

     "Cut the dung, old lady. I know there is a convention for people like me. Where's my fan club?" demanded Vyssa. "If you don't tell me, I'll find it myself." With that, the Usul stomped off.

     She walked off into the dank surroundings, not minding the fact that the hem of her robes were becoming caked with dirt, and some parts of her outfit were ripped by the unmindful twigs and thorns. The Usul stopped in the middle of a large cluster of gnarled trees and began to talk to herself.

     "If I were a convention for pretty princesses... where would I be? I think it's just about... over there!"

     Vyssa pranced off to a random direction, with Barca and Wessle close behind, but not too close to be seen.

     "Wait... I bet it's here - OUCH!"

     The Acara and Kyrii looked on as Vyssa fell into a small dirty, muddy pit, desperately choking with laughter. Now Wessle couldn't take it anymore, and he exploded with immeasurable mirth, rolling about on the dull grass.

     "My outfit! I even picked it for the convention, and…wait, if that meeting thing was here, I would've seen it by now! But... but... "

     Her ears picked up the sound of giggling, and she turned around to see Barca pulling Advisor Wessle back to their hiding place behind a bush.

     "Wait a minute. What are you two doing here?"

     The Acara froze, letting go of Wessle. "Uh... we were invited too?"

     "Fat chance!" said Vyssa, standing up and walking toward them, brushing the excess dust off her front. "If you were invited, then you would have been jumping about like me awhile ago!"

     Senator Barca shrugged, forming an alibi quickly. "I do NOT go around jumping like a sugar-crazed brat when I get something like that," she answered calmly.

     The Usul raised one penciled eyebrow. "Hold on a second... " She glanced at the invite she still held. "This looks like your handwriting, Barca!"

     The older Acara glanced nervously at Wessle. This was one question she didn't anticipate. Vyssa glared at the both of them.

     "Of course it looks like Barca's handwriting. The horrible, horrible culprit was forging her handwriting. This villain must be caught immediately!" exclaimed Wessle dramatically, with a sudden inspiration. Vyssa and Barca eyed him suspiciously.

     "Culprit?" Vyssa's eyebrow seemed to arch even higher. The Kyrii swallowed hard.

     "Oh yes, we didn't realize that the plot would go so far. We came to warn you. There was a kidnapping plot…."

     "Oh really?" The Usul directed her question towards the Acara. Barca gave her usual disapproving frown.

     "Oh yes. Wessle, would you care to go into depth?" Barca inquired.

     "Uh, sure. Well, there was someone who thought you were… annoying. An annoying ruler, to be exact. And so, that uh, someone plotted with another felon. We couldn't tell you about it because, uh…" Wessle looked at Barca. Barca nodded.

     "But you are a great Empress. You are so beautiful, sweet, and uh, wise," Barca coughed and gave the Kyrii a nudge.

     "And the conspirators um… forged a letter in Barca's handwriting to send you here. Thank Fyora that we've come just in time, before they put the kidnapping part into play!" yelled Wessle once again.

     "No questions?" Barca asked quickly. "Good, now let's leave this dreadful place at once, your Highness." She clasped the Empress's hand and tried to drag her away.

     "B-but… wait, why are we going back to the palace, if there are Neopians plotting against me?" demanded Vyssa with arms crossed.

     "Because…" Wessle looked nervously at Barca. She shrugged.

     "Stop lying! I'm onto you! Both of you!" The Usul suddenly whirled around to give them a leer. Her face looked very stern.

     "Your Majesty-"

     "Empress-"

     "We can expla -"

     "Hush, hush. So, the convention is actually a set up for my SURPRISE birthday party!" Vyssa jumped with joy.

     Barca nudged Wessle before he could say anything else, and spoke for him. "Uh... sure, we'll go with that."

The End