The bearer of wondrous things.
The source of great cheer.
The princess who rescues.
Overnight, nicknas had multiplied at a frankly alarming rate.
What was once whispered as the Green Scary Princess had sohow undergone a complete rebranding. This ti, there were no hushed tones or fear. Just enthusiasm. Loud, unfiltered enthusiasm.
There was Power Princess.
One-Hit Princess.
Even Treasure Princess, which ca with the very concerning implication that she might be buried sowhere with loot.
All good things, really. Confusing, but good.
And yet, out of every possible title that could have erged from everything now associated with the Orc Princess, the one that rose above all others did so with unstoppable montum.
Princess Muscle Muscle.
Yes. Muscle had to be said twice.
At first, it had actually been Princess Muscle Muscle Muscle. Three tis. Because important things needed to be said thrice.
Unfortunately, according to the primary demographic responsible for the nickna, which happened to be young and short humans with very strong opinions, three tis was far too hard to shout properly.
It took too long.
They ran out of breath.
So a vote was held.
Twice was decided to be the optimal number.
It was powerful. Efficient. morable.
Moreover, the children insisted it was perfect because of how the nickna ca to be in the first place.
One might reasonably assu it was simply because she was strong. And yes, that was true. No one was disputing that.
But that wasn’t entirely the real reason.
It was because of what the shocked yet definitely impressed children witnessed her doing in the livestream.
In truth, when people first saw her on the stream, many couldn’t help but be wary. Because orcs were orcs, and they weren’t particularly popular for hospitality.
At first, viewers watched cautiously. They listened with half an ear. They waited for sothing to go wrong.
But then the Orc Princess started speaking.
And every ti she did, sothing good happened.
She announced prizes. People cheered.
She introduced items. People leaned closer.
She smiled and pointed out anities and arcade gas. Crowds shifted in real ti.
So instead of avoiding her voice or looking away from the screen, people found themselves hanging onto her every word.
The effect was strongest on the children.
The younger they were, and the less the world had taught them fear or prejudice, the more intensely obsessed they beca.
They didn’t care that she was green or that her hair was fiery red.
They didn’t care that she towered over everyone else or that she had fancy horns.
All they could see were the things she showed them.
Dolls.
Toys.
Brightly colored sweets called candy.
And sothing spoken of in reverent tones, called chocolate.
They could see it. They could hear it being described. They just couldn’t touch or taste it.
And yet, judging by the looks of pure longing on the faces of the people physically present on the stream, these were clearly very good things.
Of course, there were rare plants and precious herbs being shown as well.
Very expensive things.
Very impressive things.
But the children ignored them completely.
Their attention stayed firmly fixed on the trinkets, the snacks, and the promises of joy that made much more sense to them.
Everything ca to a head during one particular mont on Reeve’s stream.
Soone had called out for help.
Reeve was out there trying out a different machine but from where he stood, the interaction could still be seen.
A family stood awkwardly in front of a ga labelled the High Striker, staring up at the towering apparatus with visible distress.
They had chosen the wrong difficulty.
And now the mallet was far too heavy and the ga couldn’t proceed.
Reeve was mid-sentence when movent flashed in the background.
The Orc Princess stepped into fra.
"Oh," Princess Kira said, peering at the machine with mild concern. "Are you having trouble?"
The parents nodded stiffly, clearly unsure what to do now that they had the attention of soone so important.
"Your Highness, we’d like to apologize for calling you over but we made a mistake and couldn’t lift it," one of them admitted. "So the machine ended up being stuck like this."
Princess Kira tilted her head as she listened, then reached down to pick up the mallet. Easily.
The motion was so casual that for a mont, no one processed it.
Then she lifted it higher, adjusted her grip, and brought it down.
The impact rang out like thunder.
The puck shot up the tower, slamd into the bell at the top, and reset the ga in one clean motion.
Silence followed.
On screen and off.
"There you go. Should be fine now." She turned to them only to see such surprised reactions.
The orc visibly wondered what was wrong and thought that maybe they needed a more detailed explanation.
Well, okay then.
Princess Kira blinked, then decided to explain. "Ah. I think you just need to put more strength into your arms."
She lifted one arm, bent it proudly, and leaned in to kiss her bicep.
When there was no response, she did it again to the other side, maybe the humans would understand the concept and all the hints she was giving them.
"Thank you," she said sincerely, as if addressing it.
Only then did the child who had called for help start clapping.
Slow at first.
Then enthusiastically.
Ah. At least the small one seems to have understood what to do!
The adults were still frozen.
"Oh, don’t worry," Princess Kira added, satisfied with the response as she set the mallet back into place. "The machine is rated to withstand orc strength. So unless there are other unique constitutions to take into consideration, you generally don’t need to be so concerned. Just rember not to use spiritual energy."
She reminded them as if forgetting that humans wouldn’t naturally have the sa raw strength, so they couldn’t possibly be concerned about the machine as much as they were concerned about the Princess’s incredible strength.
As one could imagine, it didn’t stop there.
Whenever custors struggled with arcade gas, the Orc Princess appeared.
Strength testers. Hamr gas. Anything that involved arms.
She played them happily to "assist" the custors.
And every ti she won, she raised her arms high like a seasoned bodybuilder, grinning wide as she patted her left bicep, then her right.
Sotis she kissed them.
The crowd roared. They did it internally as they clapped, but nonetheless, they were overco by the display of strength.
Tickets spilled out just as the machines made congratulatory sound effects.
More than once, sharp-eyed viewers noticed her quietly slipping a handful of her own tickets to a child nearby, pretending nothing happened.
This didn’t go unnoticed by the other children watching the stream with rapt attention. With big eyes, they took everything in.
They followed her every movent whenever Reeve’s stream managed to catch her figure.
They morized the ritual.
Lift arms.
Pat muscles.
Kiss left.
Kiss right.
Success followed.
Golden tickets followed.
It was obvious.
If you kissed your muscles, you would be blessed.
Just like Princess Muscle Muscle.
By the next morning, children all over the Empire were flexing enthusiastically, kissing their arms, and declaring victory with absolute confidence.
And no one could convince them otherwise.
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