Chapter 236 - The Winter Festival II
“This was Sylvia’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Claire stared drowsily at a massive snowy sculpture, her lips twisted into a tiny frown. She was fairly confident that she had slept for no more than an hour, but the construct, which happened to look just like her true form, was already half complete. It wasn’t their choice of model that bothered her—she was well accustomed to being painted and sculpted by famous Cadrian perverts—but rather the accuracy of the reproduction. They seemed to know exactly where every single scale would go, as well as the precise length of her ears and the exact size of her talons. Everything was done in a one-to-one scale, in spite of the fact that they had lacked a model.
“Naturally,” said Arciel. “But if I recall, Natalya was happy to oblige.” The disguised tentacle monster handed the lyrkress a mug, which she readily accepted and brought to her lips.
They were the only two sitting around the snowy lot. Sylvia and Natalya were working on the sculpture, while the others went about exploring the accompanying festival grounds. It was lined with food stalls and carnival games, bits and bites of entertainment for families in need of a break from their projects.
“Of course she was.” Claire hid her face behind the cup as she fought back the urge to yawn. The piping hot drink helped to alleviate her lethargy. She didn’t find its sweet, bitter, and fruity notes particularly pleasant, but something about the murky bean soup filled her with energy. Any thoughts of commenting on its effect, however, were cut short when she spotted the mischievous grin on the other girl’s lips.
“What did you do to it?”
“Why, nothing of course. I fail to see why you would make such an outlandish accusation.” The umbral witch followed the statement with an indignant pout, fake enough for even a child to read.
“Arciel.”
“I have repeated on many occasions now that Ciel shall suffice. I do not understand why you insist on avoiding my nickname.”
“I don’t like using nicknames.”
“So you claim, but I explicitly recall that you have used Lia’s on occasion. I do not see why you must refuse to use mine.”
“Because.”
Arciel placed a hand on her heart and faked a sad sniffle. “How cruel a mistress you are, Lady Augustus, to reject my friendship so openly. Whatever shall I do? I think I just might send a letter to Cadria informing your father of your precise location, so that he may pick you up and free my heart from this pain.” The soliloquy was performed with three times the necessary emotion, exaggerated as an egregiously bad actor’s rendition. And because it was so poor, it was met immediately with a flick to the forehead.
“Stop that.”
“I shan’t, not unless you explain to me the reason that you refuse to refer to me as I would have you.”
Claire shrugged. “I told you. I don’t like nicknames.”
“Surely you would be willing to make one more exception.” Arciel leaned forward and gave the other girl her best puppy dog eyes, only to be flicked again. The second attack had more power than the last, carrying with it enough force to remove her tall, pointed hat.
“Stupid squid.”
“That is… not exactly the sort of nickname I wished for, but I suppose it will have to do.” Arciel retrieved her signature head ornament and dusted the snow off of it with a sigh. “Did your father teach you nothing of compromise?”
The Cadrian twitched at the man’s mention, but fought back the accompanying emotions before they could show on her face. “Not in particular, no. His approaches tend to involve forcing the other party to yield. Executing hostages has always been a specialty of his.”
“And here I had nearly forgotten who I was speaking to.” Arciel shook her head. “I can only imagine your childhood. It must have been quite the adventure.”
“And I can hardly imagine yours. It must’ve happened all of sixty years ago.”
“How rude,” Arciel twisted her face into a pout. “I will have you know, most of my time was spent in stasis. Hardly a decade has passed, as far as I am concerned.”
“Stasis?” Claire tilted her head.
“Stasis,” affirmed the witch. “Members of my species rarely live for any longer than fifty years, lest we are able to accrue three ascensions. And as it did not appear possible to depose the harlot within that time frame, Griselda provided instructions to pause my vital functions for the duration of my natural life. It is a wonder that my minder has remained loyal throughout.”
“I see.” Claire narrowed her eyes. “That would explain why your sense of fashion is so out of date.”
“O-out of date!?” The squid broke from her melancholy with a start and hid her face behind a fan. It was a quick response, but not even the lunar-marked folding device could hide the crimson shame that ran between her ears. “I-I will have you know that my fashion sense is impeccable,” she stuttered.
“Sure.”
“It is not as if yours is any better.” The red not yet faded from her cheeks, Arciel snapped her fan shut and lightly tapped it against the lyrkress’ exposed forearm. “It is wholly inappropriate to wear summer clothes in the winter.”
Claire was dressed in a dark blouse that offered minimal protection from the sun. Her thighs were hidden by her skirt, and her upper arms by her sleeves, but her extremities were exposed to the cold. Not even her long, hooded cloak seemed to offer any notable insulation. The leather was far too thin and breathable for that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the perfectly deadpan snakemoose.
Arciel shook her head. “Why is it that you always insist on playing dumb?”
“It works, doesn’t it?” the lyrkress stuck out her tongue.
“Perhaps if I was unaware of the extent of your intelligence,” muttered the vampire.
“What the heck, guys! Stop sitting around and lend us a hand already!” shouted Sylvia. “This thing isn’t gonna build itself!”
Exchanging a pair of glances, the two noble ladies each grabbed a shovel and joined in on the massive creature’s construction.
___
“Your total comes to nineteen points.”
“Huh!?” The declaration sent Sylvia’s jaw to the floor. “What the heck!? That’s it!?”
With the quality of the girls’ handiwork, it had appeared safe to assume that they would be judged favourably. The resulting qiligon’s anatomy was perfectly on point; everything from her scales to her mane to her large fluffy ears had been meticulously sculpted to look exactly like the real thing. But alas, the perfect score was a lofty fifty points. Each of the five judges could offer an evaluation ranging from zero to ten, and only the Cadrian special guest had given anything higher than a four. One of the so-called qualified art critics had even delivered a one with a mocking sneer.
“That can’t be right!” complained the fox. “Look at how nice it looks!”
The mossy golem that announced the verdict—the very same one that had given the incredibly boring speech—beeped as he circled something on his clipboard and turned it towards the humanoid vulpine. “As decried in both the opening ceremony as well as the advertising materials, this year’s theme is nature. I can’t deny the craftsmanship that accompanies your work, but I fail to see how what you’ve made has anything to do with what was provided in the instructions.”
In its final form, the scene depicted that of a standoff. It was Claire against Meltys, with one looming overhead, primed for a breath attack, and the other preparing to defend with a talisman in each tentacle.
“In the first place,” the middle-aged rock continued after noting the fox’s confusion, “neither of these creatures are real. They appear highly detailed at a glance but in reality you’ve just thrown a number of arbitrary concepts together with no rhyme or reason as one can easily derive from the larger creature’s legs. I must ask you this, for what reason are they present? I believe this massive reptile is a wyrm at its core, however wyrms do not have any legs, let alone two randomly assigned varieties. Neither the talons nor the hooves make any sense, and even that falls short of the absurdity that is the other specimen you have created. It is unnatural and in direct conflict with the theme presented for a duck to have tentacles or stand at such a height that it would be as tall as an average sentient creature”
This claim elicited nods from most of the other judges. Only Pollux seemed to disagree, but he offered no words in the girls’ defense.
“Huuuuuuh!? Are you stupid! They’re totally real! You’ve just never seen them before!”
Sylvia shot her mount a pleading gaze, but the horse in question only shook her head. She couldn’t exactly transform with Pollux staring right at her. They may have been allies in name, but she knew better than to trust him. The more cards she kept, the better the chance they had of neutralizing his schemes.
“Perhaps, but real or not, your piece would not receive a high enough score to qualify for anything beyond a participation prize, as from what I have gathered, there is no deeper meaning and it effectively illustrates the scene as it was in your mind.”
“What's wrong with that!?” cried Sylvia.
“Art is not about the craftsmanship, it’s about the intention and insight,” affirmed the judge.
“That makes no sense!”
There was another beep. “Please accept your participation prize.” He handed her an envelope. “It contains a dozen tickets to the grand reopening of Serenity Colosseum, the time of which you will find on the card in the letter. While this is not exactly relevant to you, this competition’s winning pieces will be displayed in the lobby for all to behold.”
“You didn’t have to rub it in!” Sylvia snatched the paper container out of his hands and spun around with a huff.
She wasn’t the only one miffed by the score. None of the girls felt like the judges had done their efforts justice. Arciel, however, was trying to keep a low profile, and Natalya had already had her fill of trouble for the day. Claire was bound by her unwillingness to reveal her hand, but otherwise saw no reason not to harass the judges. She stepped forward, prepared to act with her cold eyes fixed right on golem, only to be stopped by the special guest.
“While the theme was certainly ignored, I do believe this group deserves a bonus for their truly outstanding craftsmanship,” said the marquis. He looked at Claire for a moment before producing a slip of paper from his binder and handing it to the pouting fox. “This will grant you access to VIP seating.”
The golem seemed rather confused, but lowered his head in deference and refrained from commenting.
“I hope that this will serve to make your efforts worthwhile.” The Cadrian lord cast Claire a meaningful glance, to which she replied with a bright, bone-chilling smile. She wasn’t exactly appeased, but she put an end to her advance, even as the judges turned their backs and moved away.
“Ughhh… I can’t believe how mean and dumb they were,” complained Sylvia. “Ours is way better than everyone else’s. I was sure we were gonna win.” The hair ornament had taken to the skies and scouted out the competition after wrapping up her work.
“Perhaps victory is not as far as it may appear?” said Arciel. “They may offer similar criticisms for the rest of the works as well.”
None of the other scores had been decided just yet. The judges had started from final registrants, and were slowly moving themselves down the line.
“Yeah, right,” said Sylvia. “They said that there’s no way we’re winning.”
“These art types are really pretentious, ” said Lia with a frown. “But there isn’t much we can do about it. We just have to accept it and move on.”
“Nuh uh.” The fox shook her head. “I’m definitely gonna give those jerks some really bad dreams tonight.”
The cat shuddered. “I’m not sure I’d wish those nightmares on anyone.”
“Well too bad! It’s their fault for being mean! They’re all gonna get cosmic night terrors and crap their beds!”
“We could just stab them instead,” said Claire. “At least the one in the back that kept sneering.”
“You two are overreacting,” said Lia, with a strained smile. “Sure, they weren’t very nice, but they did seem to have some sort of criteria at least. It’s our fault for not knowing what it was. And besides, I’m sure we’d get caught right away.”
“We won’t.” The lyrkress’ eyes were on the neighbouring lot. “The second group is screaming at them too. The child is in tears. And the father is on the verge of throwing punches.”
“They appear rather unpopular. I do not believe we would be identified as suspects, should they suddenly disappear,” said Arciel.
Natalya pressed a hand against her face. “Why are all of you so violent? Can’t we just act like normal civilized people and move on with our lives?”
“No way!” “No.” “Absolutely not.”
The cat breathed a tired sigh as the three answers came in unison. “How about we go regroup with Boris, Marcel—” She cut herself off as she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. “Wait, Sylvia?”
“Mhm?”
“Can I see that ticket for a second?”
“Uhmmm… sure?”
The fox handed the paper slip to the cat, who promptly flipped it over and scanned the text. “We should sign up for the exhibition match.”
“Why?” asked Claire, with a tilt of the head.
Lia presented the side she had been looking at, which featured an advertisement for the event in question and highlighted one of the lines at the bottom. “Every win gets you a cash prize,” said the cat. “It’s twenty gold coins. Twenty. That’s two whole pounds of gold per win, and they’re still looking for fighters, apparently.”
“Uhmmm… how about we just go meet up with Boris and Marc instead?” said Sylvia. “You can sign up for the arena thingy later if you want. Matthias looks like he’s already passed out from drinking too much, but I’m pretty sure he’ll wanna go too.” The princess’ guard was unconscious, his body draped over the flying sea cow’s back.
“We should all sign up. Imagine all the money we’d make!” The cat’s breathing was somewhat irregular, and her eyes were completely bloodshot.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence thereafter, during which she was made the subject of a number of stares. It took a moment, but the soldier quickly caught on, coughed, and averted her gaze. “Sorry.”
“What were we supposed to do next?” asked Claire.
“Oh, oh, I know!” Sylvia raised a hand and waved it around excitedly. “I think we were gonna go join that race thingy.”
“That’s tomorrow,” said Lia. “Today, we’re supposed to go check out the cat cafe that opened last week.”
“Oh yeah!” Sylvia clapped her paws together. “And we were supposed to meet Ciel’s friends while we were at it too, I think.”
“Precisely,” said the squid. “We were to meet with the Lady of House Ariti to discuss terms.”
“Then we should probably head out soon. It looks like the third group is also arguing with the judges,” said the cat, with a frown. “We’re going to end up being late if we wait for them to announce the results.”
Though they hadn’t quite forgotten the judge’s misdeeds, the group called for its remaining members and wandered back into town without causing any explicit harm. They quickly passed through the city’s gates and made their way over to the restaurant in question. As they drew closer, however, they found that the city’s festive mood had begun to break. The happy pedestrians making merry with their friends and family were replaced with gloomy bystanders whispering rumours of violence and death.
“What’s going on?” asked Lia, her ears nervously flitting around.
“There’s been a stabbing,” said Claire. It was the only bit of information she could weed out from the gossip. Few were recounting the events; most were offering wild speculations and interpretations instead.
They found the source of all the whispering after one more turn—a large crowd gathered around a trio of bloody corpses. The first was the worst off. Its face was cut up beyond recognition, and its bloodsoaked cloak was covered in knife-sized holes. The dress underneath was mauled as well, brutally destroyed and torn to bits. A similar treatment was given to the individual’s accompanying butlers. Their uniforms were covered in violent, twisting blade wounds, and their faces were quite literally carved off, stolen by their murderer.
“Of course it had to happen right in front of the cafe,” said Lia, with a grimace.
“Ughhh, this sucks,” complained Sylvia. “I wanted to go inside and pet all the cute kitties, but it doesn’t look like they’re open anymore.” She was already back in her vulpine form, sitting atop the lyrkress’ head as usual. “I guess today’s just really unlucky or something. Nothing’s going right.”
“I am convinced that luck had very little to do with this particular course of events,” said Arciel. Her face had turned dark as soon as she saw the corpses. “The woman that was slain was precisely the individual we were meant to meet.”
“Wait, isn’t that like… super bad?” asked Sylvia.
“It is,” agreed the squid. “Let us visit Lord Ariti with haste, before the whore does to him what she has done with his daughter.”
Chapter 236 - The Winter Festival II
“This was Sylvia’s idea, wasn’t it?”
Claire stared drowsily at a massive snowy sculpture, her lips twisted into a tiny frown. She was fairly confident that she had slept for no more than an hour, but the construct, which happened to look just like her true form, was already half complete. It wasn’t their choice of model that bothered her—she was well accustomed to being painted and sculpted by famous Cadrian perverts—but rather the accuracy of the reproduction. They seemed to know exactly where every single scale would go, as well as the precise length of her ears and the exact size of her talons. Everything was done in a one-to-one scale, in spite of the fact that they had lacked a model.
“Naturally,” said Arciel. “But if I recall, Natalya was happy to oblige.” The disguised tentacle monster handed the lyrkress a mug, which she readily accepted and brought to her lips.
They were the only two sitting around the snowy lot. Sylvia and Natalya were working on the sculpture, while the others went about exploring the accompanying festival grounds. It was lined with food stalls and carnival games, bits and bites of entertainment for families in need of a break from their projects.
“Of course she was.” Claire hid her face behind the cup as she fought back the urge to yawn. The piping hot drink helped to alleviate her lethargy. She didn’t find its sweet, bitter, and fruity notes particularly pleasant, but something about the murky bean soup filled her with energy. Any thoughts of commenting on its effect, however, were cut short when she spotted the mischievous grin on the other girl’s lips.
“What did you do to it?”
“Why, nothing of course. I fail to see why you would make such an outlandish accusation.” The umbral witch followed the statement with an indignant pout, fake enough for even a child to read.
“Arciel.”
“I have repeated on many occasions now that Ciel shall suffice. I do not understand why you insist on avoiding my nickname.”
“I don’t like using nicknames.”
“So you claim, but I explicitly recall that you have used Lia’s on occasion. I do not see why you must refuse to use mine.”
“Because.”
Arciel placed a hand on her heart and faked a sad sniffle. “How cruel a mistress you are, Lady Augustus, to reject my friendship so openly. Whatever shall I do? I think I just might send a letter to Cadria informing your father of your precise location, so that he may pick you up and free my heart from this pain.” The soliloquy was performed with three times the necessary emotion, exaggerated as an egregiously bad actor’s rendition. And because it was so poor, it was met immediately with a flick to the forehead.
“Stop that.”
“I shan’t, not unless you explain to me the reason that you refuse to refer to me as I would have you.”
Claire shrugged. “I told you. I don’t like nicknames.”
“Surely you would be willing to make one more exception.” Arciel leaned forward and gave the other girl her best puppy dog eyes, only to be flicked again. The second attack had more power than the last, carrying with it enough force to remove her tall, pointed hat.
“Stupid squid.”
“That is… not exactly the sort of nickname I wished for, but I suppose it will have to do.” Arciel retrieved her signature head ornament and dusted the snow off of it with a sigh. “Did your father teach you nothing of compromise?”
The Cadrian twitched at the man’s mention, but fought back the accompanying emotions before they could show on her face. “Not in particular, no. His approaches tend to involve forcing the other party to yield. Executing hostages has always been a specialty of his.”
“And here I had nearly forgotten who I was speaking to.” Arciel shook her head. “I can only imagine your childhood. It must have been quite the adventure.”
“And I can hardly imagine yours. It must’ve happened all of sixty years ago.”
“How rude,” Arciel twisted her face into a pout. “I will have you know, most of my time was spent in stasis. Hardly a decade has passed, as far as I am concerned.”
“Stasis?” Claire tilted her head.
“Stasis,” affirmed the witch. “Members of my species rarely live for any longer than fifty years, lest we are able to accrue three ascensions. And as it did not appear possible to depose the harlot within that time frame, Griselda provided instructions to pause my vital functions for the duration of my natural life. It is a wonder that my minder has remained loyal throughout.”
“I see.” Claire narrowed her eyes. “That would explain why your sense of fashion is so out of date.”
“O-out of date!?” The squid broke from her melancholy with a start and hid her face behind a fan. It was a quick response, but not even the lunar-marked folding device could hide the crimson shame that ran between her ears. “I-I will have you know that my fashion sense is impeccable,” she stuttered.
“Sure.”
“It is not as if yours is any better.” The red not yet faded from her cheeks, Arciel snapped her fan shut and lightly tapped it against the lyrkress’ exposed forearm. “It is wholly inappropriate to wear summer clothes in the winter.”
Claire was dressed in a dark blouse that offered minimal protection from the sun. Her thighs were hidden by her skirt, and her upper arms by her sleeves, but her extremities were exposed to the cold. Not even her long, hooded cloak seemed to offer any notable insulation. The leather was far too thin and breathable for that.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the perfectly deadpan snakemoose.
Arciel shook her head. “Why is it that you always insist on playing dumb?”
“It works, doesn’t it?” the lyrkress stuck out her tongue.
“Perhaps if I was unaware of the extent of your intelligence,” muttered the vampire.
“What the heck, guys! Stop sitting around and lend us a hand already!” shouted Sylvia. “This thing isn’t gonna build itself!”
Exchanging a pair of glances, the two noble ladies each grabbed a shovel and joined in on the massive creature’s construction.
___
“Your total comes to nineteen points.”
“Huh!?” The declaration sent Sylvia’s jaw to the floor. “What the heck!? That’s it!?”
With the quality of the girls’ handiwork, it had appeared safe to assume that they would be judged favourably. The resulting qiligon’s anatomy was perfectly on point; everything from her scales to her mane to her large fluffy ears had been meticulously sculpted to look exactly like the real thing. But alas, the perfect score was a lofty fifty points. Each of the five judges could offer an evaluation ranging from zero to ten, and only the Cadrian special guest had given anything higher than a four. One of the so-called qualified art critics had even delivered a one with a mocking sneer.
“That can’t be right!” complained the fox. “Look at how nice it looks!”
The mossy golem that announced the verdict—the very same one that had given the incredibly boring speech—beeped as he circled something on his clipboard and turned it towards the humanoid vulpine. “As decried in both the opening ceremony as well as the advertising materials, this year’s theme is nature. I can’t deny the craftsmanship that accompanies your work, but I fail to see how what you’ve made has anything to do with what was provided in the instructions.”
In its final form, the scene depicted that of a standoff. It was Claire against Meltys, with one looming overhead, primed for a breath attack, and the other preparing to defend with a talisman in each tentacle.
“In the first place,” the middle-aged rock continued after noting the fox’s confusion, “neither of these creatures are real. They appear highly detailed at a glance but in reality you’ve just thrown a number of arbitrary concepts together with no rhyme or reason as one can easily derive from the larger creature’s legs. I must ask you this, for what reason are they present? I believe this massive reptile is a wyrm at its core, however wyrms do not have any legs, let alone two randomly assigned varieties. Neither the talons nor the hooves make any sense, and even that falls short of the absurdity that is the other specimen you have created. It is unnatural and in direct conflict with the theme presented for a duck to have tentacles or stand at such a height that it would be as tall as an average sentient creature”
This claim elicited nods from most of the other judges. Only Pollux seemed to disagree, but he offered no words in the girls’ defense.
“Huuuuuuh!? Are you stupid! They’re totally real! You’ve just never seen them before!”
Sylvia shot her mount a pleading gaze, but the horse in question only shook her head. She couldn’t exactly transform with Pollux staring right at her. They may have been allies in name, but she knew better than to trust him. The more cards she kept, the better the chance they had of neutralizing his schemes.
“Perhaps, but real or not, your piece would not receive a high enough score to qualify for anything beyond a participation prize, as from what I have gathered, there is no deeper meaning and it effectively illustrates the scene as it was in your mind.”
“What's wrong with that!?” cried Sylvia.
“Art is not about the craftsmanship, it’s about the intention and insight,” affirmed the judge.
“That makes no sense!”
There was another beep. “Please accept your participation prize.” He handed her an envelope. “It contains a dozen tickets to the grand reopening of Serenity Colosseum, the time of which you will find on the card in the letter. While this is not exactly relevant to you, this competition’s winning pieces will be displayed in the lobby for all to behold.”
“You didn’t have to rub it in!” Sylvia snatched the paper container out of his hands and spun around with a huff.
She wasn’t the only one miffed by the score. None of the girls felt like the judges had done their efforts justice. Arciel, however, was trying to keep a low profile, and Natalya had already had her fill of trouble for the day. Claire was bound by her unwillingness to reveal her hand, but otherwise saw no reason not to harass the judges. She stepped forward, prepared to act with her cold eyes fixed right on golem, only to be stopped by the special guest.
“While the theme was certainly ignored, I do believe this group deserves a bonus for their truly outstanding craftsmanship,” said the marquis. He looked at Claire for a moment before producing a slip of paper from his binder and handing it to the pouting fox. “This will grant you access to VIP seating.”
The golem seemed rather confused, but lowered his head in deference and refrained from commenting.
“I hope that this will serve to make your efforts worthwhile.” The Cadrian lord cast Claire a meaningful glance, to which she replied with a bright, bone-chilling smile. She wasn’t exactly appeased, but she put an end to her advance, even as the judges turned their backs and moved away.
“Ughhh… I can’t believe how mean and dumb they were,” complained Sylvia. “Ours is way better than everyone else’s. I was sure we were gonna win.” The hair ornament had taken to the skies and scouted out the competition after wrapping up her work.
“Perhaps victory is not as far as it may appear?” said Arciel. “They may offer similar criticisms for the rest of the works as well.”
None of the other scores had been decided just yet. The judges had started from final registrants, and were slowly moving themselves down the line.
“Yeah, right,” said Sylvia. “They said that there’s no way we’re winning.”
“These art types are really pretentious, ” said Lia with a frown. “But there isn’t much we can do about it. We just have to accept it and move on.”
“Nuh uh.” The fox shook her head. “I’m definitely gonna give those jerks some really bad dreams tonight.”
The cat shuddered. “I’m not sure I’d wish those nightmares on anyone.”
“Well too bad! It’s their fault for being mean! They’re all gonna get cosmic night terrors and crap their beds!”
“We could just stab them instead,” said Claire. “At least the one in the back that kept sneering.”
“You two are overreacting,” said Lia, with a strained smile. “Sure, they weren’t very nice, but they did seem to have some sort of criteria at least. It’s our fault for not knowing what it was. And besides, I’m sure we’d get caught right away.”
“We won’t.” The lyrkress’ eyes were on the neighbouring lot. “The second group is screaming at them too. The child is in tears. And the father is on the verge of throwing punches.”
“They appear rather unpopular. I do not believe we would be identified as suspects, should they suddenly disappear,” said Arciel.
Natalya pressed a hand against her face. “Why are all of you so violent? Can’t we just act like normal civilized people and move on with our lives?”
“No way!” “No.” “Absolutely not.”
The cat breathed a tired sigh as the three answers came in unison. “How about we go regroup with Boris, Marcel—” She cut herself off as she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. “Wait, Sylvia?”
“Mhm?”
“Can I see that ticket for a second?”
“Uhmmm… sure?”
The fox handed the paper slip to the cat, who promptly flipped it over and scanned the text. “We should sign up for the exhibition match.”
“Why?” asked Claire, with a tilt of the head.
Lia presented the side she had been looking at, which featured an advertisement for the event in question and highlighted one of the lines at the bottom. “Every win gets you a cash prize,” said the cat. “It’s twenty gold coins. Twenty. That’s two whole pounds of gold per win, and they’re still looking for fighters, apparently.”
“Uhmmm… how about we just go meet up with Boris and Marc instead?” said Sylvia. “You can sign up for the arena thingy later if you want. Matthias looks like he’s already passed out from drinking too much, but I’m pretty sure he’ll wanna go too.” The princess’ guard was unconscious, his body draped over the flying sea cow’s back.
“We should all sign up. Imagine all the money we’d make!” The cat’s breathing was somewhat irregular, and her eyes were completely bloodshot.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence thereafter, during which she was made the subject of a number of stares. It took a moment, but the soldier quickly caught on, coughed, and averted her gaze. “Sorry.”
“What were we supposed to do next?” asked Claire.
“Oh, oh, I know!” Sylvia raised a hand and waved it around excitedly. “I think we were gonna go join that race thingy.”
“That’s tomorrow,” said Lia. “Today, we’re supposed to go check out the cat cafe that opened last week.”
“Oh yeah!” Sylvia clapped her paws together. “And we were supposed to meet Ciel’s friends while we were at it too, I think.”
“Precisely,” said the squid. “We were to meet with the Lady of House Ariti to discuss terms.”
“Then we should probably head out soon. It looks like the third group is also arguing with the judges,” said the cat, with a frown. “We’re going to end up being late if we wait for them to announce the results.”
Though they hadn’t quite forgotten the judge’s misdeeds, the group called for its remaining members and wandered back into town without causing any explicit harm. They quickly passed through the city’s gates and made their way over to the restaurant in question. As they drew closer, however, they found that the city’s festive mood had begun to break. The happy pedestrians making merry with their friends and family were replaced with gloomy bystanders whispering rumours of violence and death.
“What’s going on?” asked Lia, her ears nervously flitting around.
“There’s been a stabbing,” said Claire. It was the only bit of information she could weed out from the gossip. Few were recounting the events; most were offering wild speculations and interpretations instead.
They found the source of all the whispering after one more turn—a large crowd gathered around a trio of bloody corpses. The first was the worst off. Its face was cut up beyond recognition, and its bloodsoaked cloak was covered in knife-sized holes. The dress underneath was mauled as well, brutally destroyed and torn to bits. A similar treatment was given to the individual’s accompanying butlers. Their uniforms were covered in violent, twisting blade wounds, and their faces were quite literally carved off, stolen by their murderer.
“Of course it had to happen right in front of the cafe,” said Lia, with a grimace.
“Ughhh, this sucks,” complained Sylvia. “I wanted to go inside and pet all the cute kitties, but it doesn’t look like they’re open anymore.” She was already back in her vulpine form, sitting atop the lyrkress’ head as usual. “I guess today’s just really unlucky or something. Nothing’s going right.”
“I am convinced that luck had very little to do with this particular course of events,” said Arciel. Her face had turned dark as soon as she saw the corpses. “The woman that was slain was precisely the individual we were meant to meet.”
“Wait, isn’t that like… super bad?” asked Sylvia.
“It is,” agreed the squid. “Let us visit Lord Ariti with haste, before the whore does to him what she has done with his daughter.”
