The group was marched through a glittering city street lined with curious onlookers, all the way to a towering palace that looked like someone had asked, "What if gold was a building?" and then said "Yes." Soldiers clad in glimmering armor escorted them tightly—well, mostly tightly.
Temoshí, Chiaki, and Fioren all had their wrists bound behind their backs like proper prisoners. But Razor? Oh no, Razor was a problem.
"Hold still!" barked a grumpy soldier, trying for the fourth time to clasp manacles around Razor's slimy, glistening tentacle-arms.
"Wa-hahaha! Buddy, you're gonna need super glue and a miracle for these babies!" Razor cackled, her tentacles slipping free again with an audible schloop.
The chains clattered to the ground. The soldier groaned. He picked them up like a defeated parent retrieving a child's toy for the 20th time.
"I swear to the Empress, I will duct tape you to a wall..." he muttered under his breath.
"Ohhh, kinky~," Razor hissed with a wicked grin, wagging a tentacle at him like a naughty finger. "But ya better use the industrial kind, 'cause I'm slicker than an eel in a butter bath!"
Temoshí blinked. "Why... is that an expression you have?"
Fioren facepalmed. "Of course it is."
The soldier made one more pathetic attempt, grunting as he tried to wrangle the unwrangleable.
"Have you ever tried to put mittens on a jellyfish?" Razor giggled. "That's what this is, pal. Welcome to the circus!"
"Can we just gag her instead?" another soldier asked hopefully.
Razor gasped. "You wound me! I am a lady! A beautiful, violent, unchainable sea-beast of grace and chaos!"
Temoshí muttered to Fioren, "At this point, they're gonna chain us for emotional damage."
The poor soldier, after what must've been the tenth fruitless attempt, finally dropped the chains with a dramatic clatter that echoed through the palace courtyard. His helmet slid halfway off his head, his hair frizzed from stress, and his eyes twitched like he'd seen the end of his career—and possibly the end of sanity itself.
"I—I QUIT!" he screamed, throwing both arms in the air like he was surrendering to the universe itself. "I did not train ten years in the Empress's Guard Academy to wrestle seafood with a personality disorder!"
Razor gasped, placing a hand—er, tentacle—on her chest. "Personality disorder? I prefer the term 'spicy soul with homicidal hobbies,' thank you very much!"
The soldier just backed away slowly, muttering something about needing a transfer to "goat herding in the north."
The rest of the guards exchanged glances and shrugged.
One of them sighed. "Just… let her walk. No chains. Not worth the trauma."
"Hell yeah!" Razor threw her tentacles in the air like a victorious octopus queen. "I'm officially too slippery for the system! Viva la squish, baby! Wa-hahahaha!"
Temoshí whispered to Fioren, "She's going to have that engraved on a plaque, isn't she?"
Fioren nodded. "Or tattooed on someone else's forehead. Probably ours."
As the group shuffled along, chains clinking and guards marching in awkward silence, Razor slithered ahead, arms completely free, spinning in circles and humming a deeply unsettling version of a nursery rhyme.
Temoshí glanced down at his own tightly-bound wrists, then looked at the guard beside him. "So… since she's unchained and all, any chance you could, y'know… release the rest of us too?"
The guard didn't even blink. "No."
Temoshí blinked. "Why not?"
"Because she's terrifying and made of nightmares," the guard replied, deadpan. "You… look like you do taxes."
Razor popped her head between them, upside down somehow, grinning wide. "Oooooh, burn! You gonna take that, Mr. Spreadsheet Captain? Wa-hahahaha!" She slapped one of her tentacles across Temoshí's shoulder like a congratulatory slap of doom.
Another guard groaned as she did a victory cartwheel down the hallway, yelling, "Wheeeee! The Octopus of Freedom rolls again, baby! Unchained and unstoppable! I am the wet wind of chaos!"
Fioren facepalmed so hard, it echoed. "We're not making it out of this city with our dignity intact, are we?"
"Nope," Temoshí muttered, staring longingly at his own chains. "These are starting to feel more like emotional shackles now."
"Why does she gotta have everything easy?" Temoshí grumbled, chains clanking with every defeated step. Meanwhile, Razor was clearly having the time of her life.
She slithered sideways like a drunken squid, then suddenly zipped up behind one of the palace guards and snatched the helmet clean off his head. "Yoink! Shiny hat, mine now!"
"Hey! Put that back!" the soldier barked, chasing after her—but Razor twisted her body like a spaghetti noodle and slithered away effortlessly, laughing her head off.
"I'm a slippery goddess of mayhem! Can't catch me—I've got the sneaky speedy squish!" she cackled, lifting another helmet from a second guard without him noticing. "Boom! Double loot! I'm gonna start my own helmet shop!"
The soldiers flailed, bumping into each other like confused broomsticks as Razor snatched a third helmet and began juggling them with alarming precision. Whoosh!—one helmet flew into the air, spun three times, and plop! landed perfectly back on a guard's head.
The guard blinked. "Wait... how did—?"
Whoosh! The second helmet soared, spun, and dropped neatly onto another guard, backwards. "I CAN'T SEE!" the poor guy yelled.
Flip-zoop-pop! The third helmet landed back on the first soldier, now upside down like a soup bowl. Razor roared with laughter.
"Three for three, baby! I'm a one-cephalopod circus! You guys should PAY me for this entertainment! Wa-HAHAHAHA!"
Fioren facepalmed hard. "You realize we're about to meet royalty, right?"
"Royalty better have a sense of humor," Razor sang, sliding a helmet down her tentacle arm like a slinky, "Or I'll start juggling heads next!"
One guard threw up his hands. "I'm requesting reassignment to the dungeon. Less chaos there."
As they finally neared the Empress's doors, Razor gave one last cheer, "Alright, team! Helmet snatched, dignity shattered, let's meet the big fancy boss lady!"
Temoshí muttered, "If we get executed, it's gonna be for helmet theft."
"Worth it," Razor said, grinning wide. "Wa-hahahaha!"
Razor, still on her chaotic streak, snatched a helmet off one of the soldiers and slammed it onto her own head—completely backward. "Whoa! I've gone blind! I've gone blind!" she yelped, spinning in circles like a dizzy octopus trying to find the sea.
One of the guards tried to help, but she batted his hands away. "Back, foul creature! I'm evolving into a new species—helmetheadus confusedus!" Her voice echoed inside the metal, muffled and ridiculous, until she finally tripped over her own tentacle and fell flat on her back, flailing like a fish out of water. "This is how I die, isn't it? Crushed under the weight of fashion!"
The other guards just stared. One muttered, "Is she always like this?"
Temoshí sighed, arms still bound. "You've seen five minutes of her and ask that?"
As the laughter slowly faded behind them, the grandeur of the palace began to settle in with a weight that pressed on their shoulders. Every step echoed through the vast marble halls, lined with golden pillars and crimson banners fluttering ever so slightly in the passing breeze. Guards flanked the corridors, unmoving and stone-faced, their eyes forward, yet somehow watching everything.
Razor, silent now, walked with her head low and her usual grin—an unspoken understanding passing between her and the others. The time for games had passed. Whatever waited in the next chamber… it wasn't something to joke about.
The ornate doors at the far end, gilded and marked with sigils none of them recognized, slowly creaked open. A tension filled the air, almost sacred, almost hostile. Light poured through the gap like a divine eye opening—and beyond it, the Empress awaited.
The man who had led them there sighed heavily, his voice barely audible. "I hope I'm not too late to get yelled at... Not like it matters, anyway. Who cares about me?" He mumbled, his shoulders slumping as the soldiers opened the doors for them.
The sudden burst of light from the chamber momentarily blinded them, forcing them to squint before entering.
On the throne before them sat the empress, a vision of regal power and beauty, as if carved from fire and silk. Her gown, a rich mix of crimson and gold, shimmered in the flickering torchlight. Her fiery hair cascaded down in waves, crowned with a golden headdress that seemed to flutter like a phoenix in flight. A feathered white mantle flowed from her arms, its edges gilded in fine gold, while in her gloved hand, she held a delicate fan marked with a golden sigil. Her gaze, sharp and calculating, swept across the room, causing every subject to kneel in respect. Yet she remained still, almost statue-like, embodying a sovereign's grace and fire.
The man, still standing in the back, muttered to himself again, "I'm so useless... Why did I even have to bring them here?"
Razor bounced on her heels, eyes wide with excitement as she looked at the empress. "Oh ho! Look at her! She's like a flaming goddess made of silk and fire! I'm just waiting for her to turn around and burn a hole in the wall with that look!" Razor's tentacles whipped around as she grinned like a maniac. "I gotta say, if I step one toe too close, she's gonna melt me like butter on a hot grill, wa-hahaha!" She paused, looking at the empress' crown and then at her own messy hair. "Guess we both like shiny things, but I'm not sure mine would fit in that fancy crown... but hey, I could always add a few tentacles to it!" Razor laughed uncontrollably, slapping her knee as she reveled in the absurdity of it all.
To be continued...