Claire slowly rose to her feet and followed the others out of the room. Everyone continued to chat as they walked down the hall. Lana and Chloe talked about the attractions they hoped to visit. Jules and Krail listed the different types of liquor that had snagged their interest, and Arciel talked business with Allegra, Ragnar, and Virillius, focusing specifically on the many opportunities capable of spanning both kingdoms.

"Y'know, I'm kinda surprised you didn't fall aslee—"

Sylvia opened her mouth almost soon after they departed, but Claire clamped it shut and cut her off. Putting a finger to her lips, the snake-moose trailed behind the group in silence, waiting until everyone looked away before slipping into a nearby room.

"Can I talk now?" The fox whispered as Claire shut the door behind them.

"Yeah."

"Okay! So uhmmm… what are we doing? 'Cause I thought we were gonna go have dinner."

"We're kidnapping Rubia."

"Huh?" Sylvia blinked.

"She'll be on her way to the dining hall in a second," said Claire, as she raised her ears. "We can nab her after she heads through the secret passage in the third bathroom on the west wing's seventh floor."

"Is it just me, or did you totally just make that up?"

"I didn't."

"Mmmnnn… okay, I guess." The fox hopped off of her seat, only to freeze in midair and spin around, free from the confines of gravity. "Wait a second, why are we kidnapping her in the first place anyway?"

"Dinner will be more fun if it's just the three of us. She can't talk while the servants are around."

"Oh yeah! Good point."

"I don't really want to talk with Allegra around either."

"I still think you should just kill her."

"Not if it means you'll have to take her place in the ring."

"Oh, come on! I'll be fine. And plus, that one mothy guy being here makes it so I can't die even if I lose, not that I'm going to. I'm pretty sure I can kick Allegra's butt really easily and your dad is the only one that's stronger."

"They'll probably be trying to assassinate us between fights."

Sylvia tilted her head and brought a paw to her chin. "You think so? It kinda looks like everyone's looking forward to it, and your dad didn't really make it seem like he was gonna do anything super awful."

"It won't be him," said Claire. "Most of the champions will have nobles backing them, and the nobles will want their fighters to win no matter what."

"Wait, really? What's up with all that? I thought it'd be just the fighters entering on their own 'cause they'd get super famous and stuff."

"Most of the strongest warriors already have ties with certain families. It's how they got there in the first place." Claire climbed out of the window as she spoke. She briefly scanned her surroundings and identified all of the guards before heading for the western wing. The soldiers' instincts often drove them to look in her direction, but her newfound invisibility left them scratching their heads.

"So does that mean they're not actually that strong, and that they're only famous 'cause of who they're friends with?"

"No, not exactly. It's just that good equipment is expensive and it makes a big difference."

"Mmmnnn… what about the people that Vella gives weapons to?"

"They still need armour and accessories," said Claire.

"Yeah, but all that stuff has to be pretty cheap when compared to their weapons, right?"

"Not really. Weapons are relatively inexpensive."

"Huh?"

Sylvia blinked as they stopped in front of a window. It was locked from the inside, but Claire flipped the latch with a vector and pulled it open.

"Weapons just have to be sharp and durable. At most, they'll slot in a few bevels for runes. Armour needs to be carefully engineered. Most high-level warriors are strong enough to tear right through anything that isn't well designed, and not even the most durable parts can do much against someone heavily invested in strength."

"Mmmnnn… is it really made all that carefully? The armour the Pollux guys were wearing didn't really seem all that well thought out."

"That's because it was mass-produced garbage. It looked like they threw it together because they didn't think much of anything but our magic. The custom-made stuff is much better."

"Is it really?"

"I'll show you later. We can raid my father's armoury after dinner."

"That sounds like something that'll get us into trouble," giggled the half-elf.

"Only if we get caught," Claire pinched the fox's cheeks and pressed their noses together. "Now shush. The more we talk, the more likely the guards are to notice."

"Mmk!" Sylvia pressed her two front paws against her lips while Claire raised her ears overhead. The castle's security was much better than it was when her father first set out for the northlands, but it was still much worse than usual. Many of the more experienced guards had gone on leave as soon as they returned from their trip. Virillius had granted each member a full week off—time for them to recuperate and relax with their families before they returned to work for the festival, though not all of them would do so immediately.

The soldiers were expected to spend roughly half the celebration on duty. Six of the twenty days were regular rest days—most government employees had three days off each week and soldiers were no exception. Public holidays occupied the remaining slots. The official dates were the last two days of the fourth and eight months, as well as the first two of the first and fifth, but there was some flexibility built in to account for the fact that the castle couldn't simply be left unguarded.

The precise amount of time spent working and partying varied from individual to individual. Family-oriented soldiers often took the whole two weeks off, and perhaps even a little more if they wanted to travel, whereas the workaholics and debt-ridden would cash in on the generous holiday shift differential.

All things considered, the end result was that roughly sixty percent of the castle's staff was out on any given day. With a week left until the festival, the castle wasn't quite that empty just yet, regardless of the soldiers' leave, but Rubia's primary guard was missing.

It was far from unexpected. Durham was a lazy, insufferable piece of centaurian detritus. The only place where he was worth more than his weight in waste was upon the battlefield. If Claire had to guess, he was probably wasting his paid leave day drinking whilst throwing the tab on the castle.

His temporary replacements were the two most incompetent looking guards that Claire had ever seen. One was a short, fat elf whose belly poked out from beneath his armour, while the other was a cottontail thin enough to look like a skeleton. Perhaps they might have ended up as average if one was to find a way to magically equalize the amount of fat between them.

The men were certainly walking ahead of their charge, as the protocol demanded, but they hadn't the slightest clue as to the reason for its existence. Neither thought to inspect any rooms or passages along the way, nor did they even think to look back at the princess. Their brains were so perfectly polished that they rounded the corner without realising that Claire had opened the door, stuck out a hand, and yoinked Rubia out from behind them.

The kidnapping victim was a little confused at first, but she broke into a warm smile as soon as she saw the perpetrator. Spreading her arms wide, she buried herself in Claire's embrace. Sylvia soon joined the circle, not by squeezing herself in the middle, but by assuming her elven form and wrapping her arms around the both of them.

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Claire considered pushing the fox-elf away, just to tease her, but she decided to lean into the hug instead. Bullying her was fun, but it would probably ruin the moment.

"It feels like it's been a long time since we've seen each other." It was ultimately Claire who broke the silence, speaking as she released the homunculus from her grasp.

Rubia looked around the room and double checked that the door was closed before she opened her mouth. "I visited last night. And you visited me the night before."

"Dreamwalking doesn't count."

"Wait, Rubia visited last night? Why the heck didn't you tell me!?" asked Sylvia.

"You were asleep," said Claire.

"You could've just woken me up! Between all the naps and stuff, I think I probably sleep too much anyway."

"Mhm. You're a big sleepyhead," said Rubia. It wasn't just the previous night's visit that Sylvia had missed. She was asleep for more than three quarters of the princess' excursions.

"That's just 'cause it passes the time and feels great. Who doesn't like napping?"

"Napping is nice," agreed Rubia.

"Save the napping for later," said Claire. "Let's go explore the city."

Rubia's eyes lit up. "That sounds fun."

"Totally! I saw a really fancy-looking fish shop when we were making our way through the city, and I've been dying to snag a bite!" said Sylvia.

"That was a pet shop," said Claire.

"W-wait, really? The fish looked way too plump and juicy to be anything but food."

"Because they're pets, you silly fox." Claire pinched the half-elf's nose. "Just like you."

"What the heck! I'm not a pet!"

"That's what they all say."

"They literally don't!" shouted Sylvia. "Pets can't say anything because they can't talk!"

"Mine talks."

"No she doesn't!!"

Claire tilted her head. "Yes he does."

"Huh? He?"

"Here, let me show you." The lyrkress raised her hand and called an incredibly tiny lizard into her palm. Though barely any longer than a finger, the tiny ikarett stood tall, his chest puffed up with air and confidence in equal proportion.

"Oh my gosh, that's adorable! He's so tiny!" squealed Sylvia. "Wait, you were talking about Boris!?"

Claire flashed Sylvia a smile as pure as the driven snow. "Of course I was, you silly goose. Who else would I be talking about? Starrgort betrayed us, remember?"

"R-right, yeah." Sylvia averted her eyes. "Wait a second! Boris can't even talk!"

"Silence, Wench." The lizard's voice was as deep as the darkest gorge. "You are not to speak unless spoken to."

"W-wench!? What the heck! That's so rude!"

"Moving on," said Claire. "Boris. Do you think yo—"

"Wait, hold on a sec! You can't just move on like nothing happened!" cried the fox. "At least defend me or something! You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"It's not that big of a deal," said Claire.

"Hmph. I don't see why you even bothered replying," said Boris, with a snort. "You may as well have ignored her and continued."

"Wow! Now that's just mean!" cried the fox. She flattened her ears and slumped over, bending just low enough for Rubia to console her with a head pat whilst standing on the tips of her toes.

"It's what you deserve." The lizard stood up on his hind legs and crossed his front ones.

"For what!?"

"Your continued, pathetic existence."

"Seriously!? I thought we were friends!" The fox-elf puffed up her cheeks. "Alright, fine! I'm not gonna secretly share any snacks with you anymore!"

The lizard opened his eyes wide and started looking between the fox and his mistress, but his mouth kept moving regardless.

"You think I care about your disgusting sna—"

Or at least it did until he turned into a spiky hair clip and pinched Claire's lips shut. Even then, it took the fuming fox a moment to catch on. Her expression changed three times, going from annoyed to confused to understanding before looping back around to indignation.

"Wait a second! Claire!"

The snake-moose couldn't exactly talk with Boris still pinching her mouth shut, but she innocently tilted her head.

"Stop playing dumb!" huffed Sylvia. "It was clearly you all along!"

The only response she got was a slightly steeper head tilt.

"Don't give me that! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Sylvia sighed as she collapsed into a vaguely vulpine puddle. "You had me seriously worried. I thought Boris was really a stuck-up jerk!"

A second Boris appeared beside the fox and nuzzled his head against her leg, but she immediately pushed him away.

"Stop trying to pretend you were totally innocent, Boris!" she grumbled. "You totally played along!"

The lizard blinked and tilted his head.

"Copying Claire isn't going to make me any less mad at you, you know!"

Drooping his gaze to the ground, the lizard replied with a sad groan and walked over to one of the room's far corners. There, he faced the two walls and hung his head, his eyes occasionally flicking in Sylvia's direction.

"Uhmmm… I'm sorry. I didn't really mean to lash out like that. You don't have to stand in the corner," said the fox.

Boris shook his head and groaned again while Claire, who had finally removed the hair clamp from her lips, broke into laughter. Sylvia twisted her lips into a pout, but Claire hugged her from behind before she could spin around and voice her complaints.

"Stupid fox."

"I'm not stupid!"

"Mhm. Not stupid. Just silly," agreed Rubia.

"I'm not really that silly either…"

"Of course not," said Claire.

"It's not very convincing when you say it like that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Claire briefly stuck out her tongue before returning to her usual neutral expression. "Enough fooling around. We should really get going before the guards realise that Rubia's missing."

"Oh, right, yeah," said Sylvia. "Mmmnnnn… we should probably disguise ourselves, shouldn't we? Anyone have any suggestions?"

"Whatever works," said Claire.

"Uhmmmm… how about erdbrechers?"

"Do you see any erdbrechers around?"

"Okay, fine. Elves?"

"Not good enough of a disguise."

"What the heck! You said whatever! Why are you being so picky!?"

Rubia tugged on Sylvia's dress. "I have an idea."

"Let's hear it," said the fox.

"I want to be a hydra."

Sylvia blinked. "A hydra?"

"Mhm. Like Farrie."

"Wait, what? A fairy hydra? Those exist!?"

"She means like Farenlight," said Claire, "like Headhydra."

"Uhmmmm… I'm not really sure if that's the best idea," said Sylvia.

"Awww…" Rubia's ears flopped over as she deflated.

"I-I didn't say we can't! It's just that a group of three hydras would really stand out," said the panicked half-elf. "Oh wait! I know! H-how about each of us becomes a head, and we become a single hydra? We'd still stand out, but I think it'd probably be fine as long as we don't cause too much trouble." She glanced at Claire for approval, but the lyrkress refused to meet her gaze.

"Okay!" said Rubia.

"Alright! One hydra, coming right up!"

Though she was pretty sure it was a terrible idea, Sylvia placed the whole room in a bubble with four long appendages growing from its neck, with the fourth being allotted to Boris, who had kept sulking by himself in the room's far corner. The illusion that she laid atop the form wasn't exactly a normal hydra. Each head had a pair of feelers growing from its chin so that the members could use their hands without rousing suspicion, and she made up half the details on account of not remembering exactly how Headhydra had looked in life, but for the most part, she had done a fair job of fudging the image.

"All that's left now is to figure out a way to look friendly so people don't attack us on sight."

The Rubia head snaked away from the others and looked back on their shared form. "We look friendly enough already."

"We have to think about it from the perspective of people who are scared of hydras. Not everyone likes them as much as you do," said Claire.

"People are scared of hydras?" Rubia blinked. "But they're so cute."

"Maybe tiny ones like Headhy—wait, that's it!" cried Sylvia. She quickly sang a second quick note and cast the same magic that allowed her to take her fairy-like form. Suddenly, they were small enough to fit in a hand or sit on a head.

"Perfect," she said.

"Not yet," said Claire. "We need to better differentiate ourselves. Each head should have its own personality."

"What do you mean?" asked Syliva.

"We need hats," said Claire. "Each of us needs to wear a completely different hat."

"I'm not really sure how that even makes a difference," muttered the fox. "Where are we gonna get a bunch of tiny hydra-sized hats anyway?"

Claire could easily craft them with her runecloak, but she decided to ignore that particular feature. "It's simple," she said. "We don't."

"Uhhhh…"

"We'll get things that conform to our sizes instead."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Sylvia.

"It means we're shifting the schedule," said the smirking snake-moose. "First things first, we'll raid my father's armoury."

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