As the first light of dawn filtered through the leaves, Shikihime stirred from her slumber, still nestled in Shikuro's embrace. She could feel his gaze upon her, a silent watchfulness that spoke volumes. Half-asleep, she murmured, "What?"

  Shikuro, lost in thought, softly replied, "Nothing, I just miss your hair."

  Shikihime slowly sat up, her body stiff from the uncomfortable sleep on the hard ground, yet there was a newfound resilience in her. She had grown accustomed to these harsh conditions. Shikuro followed suit, rising to his feet as they both made their way towards the caravan.

  Bjorn was already there, his expression clouded with concern. Shikuro approached him, curiosity in his stride. "What's wrong, my friend?" he inquired.

  Bjorn glanced between Shikuro and Shikihime, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Did you ask them how they plan to get us inside the city?" he questioned.

  Shikihime responded with a knowing smile, but Shikuro was still in the dark. "No... is there a problem?" he pressed, seeking clarity.

  With a slight grumble, Bjorn explained, "Their caravan has a hidden compartment, a second floor of sorts. They plan to hide us there. But with our heavy armors, it's going to be a tight squeeze."

  Shikuro turned to Shikihime, seeking an explanation. She responded with a nonchalant shrug. "It can't be helped," she conceded. "Our armors will be stowed away in a chest inside the caravan. I've arranged for it."

  Shikuro's unease was palpable, his brows knitted in a frown as he occasionally cast wary glances at Shikihime. Sensing his discomfort, Shikihime sighed inwardly; she enjoyed teasing, but sometimes Shikuro's reactions were almost childlike in their intensity.

  Approaching Bjorn, who had just finished stowing his blue steel armor within the caravan's hidden compartment, Shikihime inquired, "Why is he sulking like that?"

  Bjorn glanced towards Shikuro and replied, "Oh, he's not fully sulking yet. Just on the brink of it. He's still trying to keep his composure. But I share his concerns. Getting discovered without our armor or proper supplies is a significant risk. This plan should have been discussed with us in advance."

  Shikihime acknowledged his valid point. "I know, but the situation just unfolded rapidly. They shared their emotional turmoil, and it felt right to reciprocate and help each other," she explained, trying to justify the quick decision.

  Bjorn shook his head slightly, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. Shikihime chuckled, noting the parallels between Bjorn's straightforwardness and Yoru's. On a whim, she teased, "So, Bjorn, ever thought about marrying Yoru?"

  The suggestion caught Bjorn entirely off guard. His sword clattered to the ground as his face registered shock. Shikihime burst into hearty laughter. "So, I can fluster you too, Bjorn! It's good to know you're still human and not some stoic golem like Minato," she jested, her laughter echoing around them.

  Shikuro, observing this exchange from a distance, couldn't help but crack a small smile despite his reservations. It was moments like these, amidst the uncertainty and peril, that human connections and light-hearted banter provided a much-needed respite.

  Shikihime observed Jena and her companion, noting the conflicted and apologetic expressions on their faces. Jena spoke up, her voice tinged with unease, "It's the only way we can manage this. The journey in the caravan will take about three hours, and I won't lie, it's going to be an uncomfortable ride. But please, try to stay quiet and still once you're inside."

  Shikihime nodded in understanding, then gracefully lowered herself onto the hidden compartment floor, her movements fluid and confident. Shikuro and Bjorn exchanged a hesitant glance, their discomfort with the cramped conditions evident.

  Sensing their reluctance, Shikihime teased, "Don't be such babies... two big, strong men daunted by a little adventure into the unknown?" Her voice was playful, yet carried an undertone of challenge.

  Taking a deep breath, Shikuro resignedly lay down next to Shikihime, his broad frame barely fitting in the tight space. Bjorn, after a moment's pause, followed suit, positioning himself next to Shikuro.

  Above them, the sounds of movement indicated Jena and her partner rearranging chests and cargo to conceal the hidden compartment. Shikihime, lying in the dark, couldn't help but smile at the resourcefulness of their plan.

  Shikuro's voice, slightly muffled in the close quarters, broke the silence. "I suppose you can see perfectly in this darkness, can't you?"

  "Of course," Shikihime replied, her voice light and teasing. "Clear as day. I can even see colors down here. For instance, Bjorn's complexion is quite pale, and you, Shikuro, are blushing – probably because you're holding my hand."

  The journey on the road to the city was far worse than any of them could have imagined. The caravan rattled and bumped along the uneven path, each jolt sending sharp pains through Shikihime's body as she repeatedly hit her head against the top of the cramped compartment. The constant shaking and the small, unexpected dips in the road only exacerbated their discomfort.

  Shikuro's frustration was palpable in the confined space, his usually composed demeanor giving way to visible irritation. As the hours dragged on, their discomfort turned into a throbbing headache, a relentless reminder of their harsh ride.

  Eventually, the caravan came to a halt, signaling their arrival at the outskirts of the town. But their relief was short-lived as the caravan soon began to move again, only to stop after a short distance. Shikihime realized they were now in a queue, most likely waiting for inspection at the town's gate.

  Straining her ears, Shikihime tried to pick up on any voices or sounds that might give them a clue about what was happening outside. But the conversations were too distant, their words muffled and indistinct. She couldn't glean any useful information.

  The start-stop motion of the caravan continued for what felt like an eternity. With each pause, the tension in the hidden compartment grew. Two agonizing hours passed, the prolonged wait indicative of the thorough inspections being conducted at the gate.

  A sense of panic began to creep into Shikihime's thoughts. "Did I underestimate the situation?" she questioned herself, her mind racing with potential scenarios. The gravity of their predicament was now fully realized – they were trapped in a hidden compartment, entirely at the mercy of the caravan's fate and the scrutiny of the town's guards.

  In the dim confines of their hidden compartment, Shikihime strained to make out the words being spoken outside. Gradually, fragments of conversations began to piece together, forming a clearer picture of their surroundings. The voices belonged to soldiers, their commands sharp and authoritative. Amidst these commands, she discerned the desperate pleas of a woman, her voice tinged with fear and anxiety. It was apparent that the soldiers had discovered something, and the woman was pleading for leniency.

  The caravan lurched forward once more, only to come to another abrupt stop. This time, the voices outside were much clearer. Shikihime could hear the distinct exchange between a man with an authoritative tone – likely an officer – and another, softer-spoken man, presumably a merchant.

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  The officer's voice was stern, “Due to General Nightblack's order, we must inspect your cargo and have the right to check anything we find suspicious.”

  “Go ahead, look all you want, officer. I have nothing to hide,” replied the merchant, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

  “What are you bringing into the town?” the officer inquired.

  “Some food, mostly vegetables, but I have a bit of fruit as well. Nothing extraordinary, just common things from the forest. You soldiers have done a commendable job clearing the forests of bandits. The roads have never been as safe as they are now. I truly appreciate your work, from the bottom of my heart,” the merchant responded, his voice carrying a tone of gratitude.

  “Just check below those boxes,” instructed the officer to someone else, then turned back to the merchant, “It’s good to hear some appreciation for our efforts. Thank you for that. It's not often we receive such kind words.”

  Shikihime's heart pounded in her chest as she listened to the exchange. The tension in the air was palpable. Each word uttered by the officer sent a wave of apprehension through her. She realized they were at the mercy of these inspections, and their fate hinged on the thoroughness of the soldiers’ search.

  As they lay in silence, listening to the sounds of the inspection, the risk of their situation became increasingly apparent. The thought of being discovered was terrifying, yet there was nothing they could do but wait and hope that their cover would not be blown.

  The moment of truth arrived as the soldiers' voices grew unmistakably close. Jane conversed with one of them, her voice betraying a hint of apprehension. "What are you bringing?" the soldier inquired, his tone carrying the weight of authority.

  "Clothes, some daily necessities, a few items for nobles, and some masquerade fakes. We're restocking the Joyce shop," Jane replied, her voice steady despite the mounting pressure.

  The soldier, not entirely convinced, asked if they could remove the cloth sheet covering the caravan. Jane agreed but cautioned it would take time. The soldier, clearly annoyed, declared they would instead conduct an inspection inside. Footsteps sounded above them, muffled but distinct, as someone climbed up and began shuffling around, moving chests. The confined space beneath the floorboards became a chamber of silent tension.

  Shikihime's heart raced, her breaths shallow and controlled. She glanced at Shikuro and Bjorn, who were visibly struggling with the situation. Their inability to see in the darkness only amplified their discomfort.

  The soldier's skepticism was evident in his voice. "Don't you think you're traveling a bit light for such a journey? Seems unusual," he remarked, probing further.

  Jane quickly responded, explaining that they had managed to sell some of their goods in a nearby village and even received advance payment. The soldier scoffed, "As if anyone would believe that. Show me the money, then."

  Jane paused momentarily, her hesitation palpable even in the darkness. Composing herself, she moved slightly away and returned with a response, "Nearly two large golds." The soldier let out an impressed whistle, his curiosity piqued.

  The soldier's request carried an air of inevitability, "Unfortunately, I need you to open those larger chests. Maybe even that medium one. I'm sorry, miss, but it's part of the procedure." Jane's response was prompt, her tone concealing her inner turmoil, "Of course, officer." She began the task of opening each chest systematically, her movements deliberate and steady.

  Above them, the sound of cautious steps grew louder, each footfall echoing ominously in the confined space. Suddenly, the soldier's tone shifted from procedural to incredulous, "What's this supposed to be? Is this blue steel?!"

  Shikihime's heart skipped a beat. They were on the brink of disaster. Jane, however, maintained her composure, injecting humor into her voice, "Of course not, it's just a fake. An imitation. I did mention we have masquerade items, right? Look at these, and these blue throwing daggers too. Feel free to check them."

  The soldier inspected the items closely, his curiosity piqued. "Yeah, it's just iron painted to resemble blue steel. But wow, they seem so real... Hey, Fabio! Come over here, you've got to see this. It's one of the best imitations I've ever come across."

  Another voice, distant and urgent, called out, "Ludwig, quit messing around. We've just been informed a colonel will be inspecting us in two hours. If this queue isn't cleared by then, we're in deep trouble!"

  The soldier onboard the caravan cursed under his breath, "Shit!" Turning back to Jane, he said, "Miss, you're free to go. Thank you for your cooperation." With that, he hastily jumped off the caravan.

  As the caravan began to move again, Shikihime exhaled a long-held breath, relief washing over her. Beside her, Shikuro was ghostly pale, on the verge of fainting. Shikihime couldn't help but think mischievously, if he did faint, she'd have a lifetime's worth of teasing material.

  The caravan's journey took a turn for the worse as they trundled over stone-cobbled streets. The small, tightly-packed cubes made for an uncomfortable ride, each jolt sending sharp vibrations through the floor. Inside their cramped hideout, Shikuro, Shikihime, and Bjorn were subjected to a relentless cacophony, the noise of the wheels grinding against stone reverberating in their ears. It was more than just unpleasant; it was a physical torment.

  Unexpectedly, the caravan came to a halt. From outside, a familiar voice pierced the noisy atmosphere. It was Minato. His voice carried an urgency that seemed out of place, "I'm here to pick up the package you're smuggling. Let's not waste time, I have the rest of your payment. I need those three you've hidden. They're my friends."

  Jane's partner was engaging Minato in a casual conversation, feigning ignorance of the situation. Jane, however, was not so easily convinced. She approached the hidden compartment in the caravan. In a whisper, audible only to the trio, she cautiously inquired, "Is that your companion? Should we trust him? If yes, knock."

  Shikuro and Shikihime, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knocked gently but firmly, signaling their trust in Minato. The response was a subtle assurance to Jane that it was safe to proceed.

  Interlude: Yoru’s Dissatisfactions

  Yoru's gaze lingered on Shikihime with an intensity that betrayed her inner turmoil. It wasn't Shikihime who had stirred this tempest within her; it was Shikuro. He seemed to Yoru a man perpetually lost in a fog, a figure who moved through life with a baffling blend of naivety and selfishness. His inability to navigate even the simplest tasks without guidance grated on her nerves like a discordant melody.

  Noticing Yoru's brooding demeanor, Akalune spoke up, her voice tinged with concern, "You're not usually one to wear your heart on your sleeve, Yoru. But your disdain for Shikuro is becoming more evident by the day. You need to get a grip on yourself."

  Yoru's only response was a terse 'Tsch!'. But Akalune remained unphased, her words as steady as her gaze. "It's the truth, and it's unchangeable. What is it about him that irks you so much?"

  Turning towards Akalune, Yoru's expression softened from anger to contemplation. "Hate him? No, I don’t hate Shikuro," she replied, her tone laced with a complexity that belied the simplicity of her words.

  Akalune, now visibly confused, pressed further. "Then how do you act towards those you do hate?"

  Yoru let out a soft chuckle, a sound that seemed to carry layers of untold stories. Akalune recognized it as a sign that Yoru was about to reveal a fragment of her closely guarded thoughts.

  "For instance, take what just happened," Yoru began, pointing to where Shikuro had recently bungled his role as Philip. She recounted the incident with growing frustration, her voice rising in pitch as she relived the moment. "And then, AND THEN," she exclaimed, her anger reaching its crescendo, "that fool had the audacity to touch her... in that manner. I had half a mind to march over there and sever his arm from his body!"

  Akalune shook her head gently, a mixture of empathy and realism in her tone. "Yoru, don't you think you're being overly protective of her?"

  Yoru's response came from a place of deep introspection, her voice barely above a whisper in the darkness. "Akalune, since that ambush at the estate, I've been haunted by a sense of failure. I vowed to protect her, to be better, but then I missed the signs of her illness. I feel like I've failed as her attendant."

  There was a heavy silence before Yoru continued, her words laced with a passion that seemed to resonate in the night air. "After she saved me, my brother, and my friends, asking nothing in return, I pledged my loyalty to her. My desire to serve, to protect, has only grown. But it frustrates me to see her place her trust in him." Yoru's voice trailed off, the unspoken name of Shikuro hanging in the air.

  Akalune's reply was straightforward, yet sympathetic. "You're jealous of him, Yoru. And it's not without reason. They're getting married. It's a reality you need to face."

  Yoru opened her mouth to retort, but Akalune cut her off with a firmness that demanded attention. "Listen to me, Yoru. This is important. In the world of political marriages, happiness is often a rare commodity. Many such unions bring nothing but sorrow, sacrificed at the altar of political gain. It's a bittersweet fate for too many."

  Yoru fell silent, absorbing Akalune's words.

  "But Shikihime is different. She's fortunate," Akalune continued. "Her and Shikuro's compatibility, their mutual affection – it's not common in arranged marriages. You should see the good in that. Their happiness doesn't diminish your worth or your role in her life."

  Yoru sat there, contemplating in the dark, the weight of Akalune's words sinking in. It was a complex tapestry of loyalty, duty, and unspoken emotions - a balance she was still learning to navigate.