Chapter 408 - Amidst the Valencian Wind
The party’s first day in Valencia came and went. They had a grand feast, enjoyed the castle’s private baths, and watched the stars above. The space that they had been assigned was designed specifically for large parties. Just like the jail that they had been confined in, when they were captured by Pollux’s army, it featured a large common area in which the Vel’khanese could freely intermingle. Of course, it was much more luxurious than the prison, but not in the gaudy way that one typically associated with royalty. They were simply high-quality, crafted of the finest materials and engineered to last a lifetime.
The carpet was soft enough to put most beds to shame and the sofas brought more comfort than a lover’s embrace. The tables were modest and well-made; the designs themselves were almost ordinary, but that was precisely why they remained tasteful. The perfect craftsmanship that went into their creation shouted the same message as everything else. Even without much in the way of gold trim, even with the walls only barely covered in art, it came off as luxury incarnate.
Two hallways sat within the space, with restrooms and bedrooms on both sides. The left was set up for the party’s gentlemen, and the right for its ladies. Both contained far too many bedrooms for the given headcount; there were over ten private spaces in each wing, all of which had bathrooms, closets, and dressing rooms attached.
There were private balconies as well, just in case one needed a getaway from the public space. Of course, the architects had accounted for the fact that anyone who used the veranda in such a manner would still be in close physical proximity to anyone else with the same idea. The solution was the artifact into the railings. With a simple pull of the lever, one could create an illusion that would hide the balcony from the rest of the world and similarly obscure all of the others.
The Vel’khanese, however, had no use for the feature. They were out on the common area’s balcony with wine glasses in hand—the kitchen that came with their room was stocked with some of Cadria’s finest—and their eyes on the stars.
Half the party was already completely wasted, including the fox, who was puking off the edge of the veranda much to a particularly unlucky guard’s dismay. Claire had half a mind to ditch the group so she could spend time with Rubia instead, but there was no way for her to do it without either falling asleep or getting caught. And though the beds were heavenly, she wasn’t quite keen on either just yet. The sun had only just set, and more importantly, she had the sneaking suspicion that her father would summon her at some point or other.
In the first place, Rubia was most likely still in the middle of homework. Even if Claire did opt to fall asleep and throw her mind to the other side of the castle, her sister would certainly be too busy to relax for another half hour. And even then, it wasn’t like she would have much time to frolic. She needed to go to bed so she could attend her lessons early the next morning. If anything, it was more reasonable for Rubia to be the one to escape her body.
Ignoring the drunks rambling all around her, Claire turned her eyes to the homunculus’ window and affirmed her suspicions. There was a bright glow from within, a flickering candlelight that otherwise fought back against the darkness and allowed her to focus on her studies. Of course, the light sources were no ordinary candles. Like the ones atop the chandelier that crowned the guest room, the false princess’ artifacts came equipped with all sorts of enchantments.
One could easily call to question the need for candles in the first place. After all, with the power of magic, any half-decent artificer could easily construct a non-consumable light source, perhaps powered by the ambient magic emitted by the local ley lines. And in fact, items of that exact description could be found all over. Some even took the usual candle form and came to life by way of fire.
So why then did the castle refuse to use them?
As with everything else, it was a matter of quality. Traditionally crafted candles carried refined scents and their heat served to combat the natural cold that came with the castle’s stone construction. Their one weakness was a lack of light, but a few simple runes sufficed to turn up the luminosity and eliminate the flaw outright. And while they were certainly pricier, on account of their lack of permanence, it wasn’t like they were overwhelmingly so.
It was as her mind casually tossed such thoughts around that Claire happened to notice something peculiar in the distance. She only caught a small glimpse at first, but a second look confirmed her suspicions. The shadows were shifting unnaturally right under Rubia’s window.
To imagine that someone was targeting her was a stretch to say the least. The princess’ room was located on the twenty fourth floor and the suspicious silhouettes were on the ground. More importantly, they were on castle grounds. There was no way for anyone to get past security, let alone someone incompetent enough to be noticed in the dark from a full kilometre away. Still, Claire set down her wine glass and silently slipped away from the party.
Transforming her helmet to cover her lips again, she sprouted a pair of wings, abandoned her inebriated accompaniments, and glided across the sky. She prioritized silence over speed, though it seemed like a needless concern given the way the suspicious centaur was bumbling about. He was trying and failing to scale the wall with a bow on his back and three arrows between his teeth.
He was struggling on his way up, attempting to surmount the impossible height with his paltry upper body strength alone. It was a pathetic display, so pathetic in fact that Claire almost stopped to watch him, as did the other person to arrive on the scene.
“Is this normal?” She spoke in her fake androgynous voice, albeit more to attest to her innocence and affirm that she was not the dysfunctional invader’s master. If not for the situation she was caught in, she would have preferred to stay silent. Talking to Durham was near the top of the list of things she never wanted to do again.
“Not really.” The princess’ guard scratched the back of his head as he continued to watch the man climb.
He was exactly as she remembered him. Though his blood was entirely equine, Durham was a giant muscular specimen standing at over four metres. He had a head of short, black hair cut in the standard military style—his personal preference was to let everything grow out, but he changed his stance after his long hair was used against him in combat—and his face was covered in an eternally dopey smile.
If not for his size, he likely wouldn’t have left too much of an impression. He was ridiculously lazy. He had been standing just outside the princess’ room, and though he had clearly noticed the intruder much earlier, it wasn’t until Claire started her approach that he reluctantly made his way over. And even then, it was more likely for appearances than it was an attempt to make himself useful.
But as much as she criticized him, it wasn’t like she didn’t understand his reasoning. He wasn’t even the only guard that defaulted to sitting around and watching. There were half a dozen observing the situation from afar. They weren’t just watching because they were unconcerned for the princess’ safety, but rather because, like Claire, they were convinced that the intruder was sure to fail.
He was already slipping on the second floor even though it was curved at an incline that made it easy to climb. It didn’t take long for him to slip. He fell from the third floor, broke two of his legs, and devolved into a cursing, crying mess.
“Are you just going to leave him there?” asked Claire.
“Yeah, pretty much,” said Durham. He stretched his arms overhead and yawned. “He’ll probably crawl somewhere we can’t pretend to ignore him by morning.”
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“How did he even get in the castle?”
“Couldn’t tell ya.” The centaur tucked his hands into his pockets as he slowly drifted back to his post. Thanks to his owl-like wings, his departure was almost perfectly silent. The rest of the crowd was far less so; their flaps were loud enough to draw the intruder’s attention, and drive him to scream for help. And as not all the soldiers were quite as numb as Durham, he was soon taken away so he could be treated and jailed.
Claire quickly left the scene as well, again, purely on account of avoiding suspicion. But despite her plentiful precautions, she soon found that she was being tailed.
Durham must have thought that he was being subtle. He followed from a few hundred meters away and kept out of sight. For someone with no rogue-based classes, it was an impressive feat of stealth, but Claire was kept well aware.
His gaze was at fault. It followed her with pinpoint precision, and she could feel its owner relocating every time she got too far.
It didn't take long for her to grow sick of it. Landing in one of the courtyards, she spun around and perfectly locked her eyes on his. He considered hiding for a moment, but realising that it was futile, as her eyes followed him into the shadows, he stepped out from his hiding spot with a chuckle.
He fluttered his way towards her with his hands in his pockets and the usual sleepy look on his face. The man was known for dressing in full armour—he used his helmet to hide his face so he could sleep on the job more easily—but the only piece he had on his person was the breastplate half hanging from his chest. It made some degree of sense, seeing as how he was off duty at night, but one had to wonder why he bothered to grab any armour at all in the first place.
“Didn’t think you’d see me,” he said. He twisted his lips into a bit of a grin. “You have eyes on the back of your head or something?”
Claire frowned. The last thing she wanted was to catch his attention. Speaking to him proved a risk in and of itself. He was a few shields short of a wall, but like Allegra, he had been with her throughout her earlier years.
“Why are you following me?”
“I dunno, why’d you make yourself seem so suspicious?” he asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, you seemed awfully interested in our princess’ room for a visitor,” he said. “You’ve had your eyes on it for the last half hour.”
Claire almost clicked her tongue. She had known that the guards were watching, but she hadn’t realised that he had been one of them. Perhaps she could have picked him out with her magnified vision if she actively returned all of the guards’ gazes, but that would have been far too suspicious—not that it had really made a difference in the end.
“I just happened to look that way is all,” said Claire.
“Yeah, sure.” He floated even closer. From point blank, his massive frame was even more imposing. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but listen closely. I’m only going to say this once.” His voice was a low growl. “Cause any trouble, and I’ll shove your face down your throat.”
It was hard to fight back the urge to laugh. Fortunately, her armour made it so she didn’t have to control her expression. Biting down on her tongue was enough to keep her emotions from leaking. She knew he was being serious, but knowing his history, she struggled to see him as anything but a bumbling buffoon.
“I’ll take that to heart,” she said.
She spun around and, ignoring the guard’s gaze, started back towards her room. She would have liked to arrive undisturbed, but to her dismay, he continued to follow from a distance, scratching his head and beard in tandem as he observed her from all different angles.
“What?” Eventually, she turned to face him again, the tone of her voice shifted just far enough to mask her tension with annoyance.
“Dunno,” he said. “I’m not really sure what it is, but something about you seems a bit off.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I don’t care. Stop following me.”
“Don’t be so cold.” He suddenly flew in front of her and cut her off. “Times like these, a little spar tends to go a long way. What do you say?”
“Not interested.”
“Oh, come on. It won’t take long,” he said. “Just one quick round’ll do.”
“I'm not interested.”
“I just want to see how much stronger you've gotten.”
Claire paused for a moment to eye the centaur. “Have we met before?”
“You can stop pretending, Claire. I know it's you in there.” The smirk that appeared on his face was filled to the brim with confidence.
“Who?” The lyrkress cocked her head as innocently as she could. She was barely acting; the reaction was no different from the one she would have given had her identity been public. One could easily call her methods into question. After all, she could have easily assumed any number of personas and blown him off in any which way, but it wouldn't have mattered. Just as how she could interpret his body language and see through his bluff, his bestial intuition had marked her identity.
“Virillius already filled me in.”
“Virwhollius?” Still, she kept her mask firmly on her face. His conclusion, like hers, stemmed markedly from the realm of speculation.
The guard cocked his brow. “You know, Virillius. The king? Your father?”
“You must have the wrong person. Neither of my fathers are named Virillius.”
“Fathers? Like, plural?” Durham stared for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Goddamn it, Claire. Knock it off. Just come clean already.”
“I’m not sure who this ‘Claire,’ is. My name is…” She paused for a second and very clearly directed her gaze at one of the cottontails in the middle of maintaining the courtyards. “Rabbi T’gardener.”
“Huh? Oh, come on, don’t give me that shit,” said Durham. He pulled his eyes from the gardener and returned them to the snakemoose. “Even I can tell that you just made that name up. Actually, wait. Claire would probably come up with something more clever.” He brought a hand to his chin. “Wait, does that mean you aren’t her? That can’t be right, can it? My gut’s never wrong when it comes to this shit. Wait, she was literally just studying,” he glanced at the room. “Actually, she’s still studying. What the hell? This doesn’t even make any sense. Why did I even…”
“If you’ll excuse me,” said Rabbi, “I have places to be.”
She ducked out of the way, once to get past him, and then again as he suddenly reached for the helmet that masked her face.
“Why’d you dodge?” he asked.
“I should be the one asking questions. What do you think you're doing?”
“I just… need to see your face.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. I was horribly disfigured in an accident, on account of a cursed torch.”
“Show me.” He reached for the helm again, faster than he did the first time, but Rabbi pulled back just far enough to escape his reach. “God damn it! Show me already!”
“I will report you to the nearest servant if you continue to assault me. I can’t help but wonder what your king would think, if he found out you were harassing one of his guests.”
Durham flinched.
“N-not like it even matters,” he said. “Virillius is pretty lenient. M-most I’ll get is a scolding.”
“I’ll make sure to tell him you said that when I report you.”
“S-sure, go for it.” Sweat started to form on the man’s brow. His eyes were spinning, practically swimming like he was trapped in a whirlpool.
“While I’m at it, I’ll tell him you snuck peeks through the princess’ doorway while she was bathing.”
“By Vella’s spear, are you trying to get me killed!?” He sighed.
“So you don’t deny what you did.”
The man twitched. There was a brief pause as she fixed her gaze on his clearly guilty face. “Look, you probably don’t get it ‘cause you’re not from around here, but her goddamn ears, man. They’re ju—hey, wait a fucking second! You aren’t tricking me, Claire! I know it’s you under there!”
But when he raised his eyes, he found that the lyrkress had already slipped away.
She was more than halfway across the sky. He could have still caught her if he felt like it, but after a moment’s consideration, he decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. Simply shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, he returned to his room—the one right across from the princess’—and resigned himself to considering the next day’s troubles.