Upon seeing her quarters, it was no mystery as to why the castle was so big. If the castle is large enough for a city to fit inside, then each wing is a district and each room is a house. Yes, her rooms were bigger than a small apartment.

The rooms were shaped in a rectangle, an open entrance and hallway forming a T down the center. On the left was a lounge room and dining room with fold-in walls. The bedroom in the far left corner had a small passageway to connect it with the washroom. From the washroom was the dressing room with a closet looping around it. Only the bedroom had a window, which led to the roof of the lower levels.

Three handmaids were assigned to care for her, as well as a young lady name Helga. She was only there to translate for the maids, and she did not seem too happy to be doing it.

In the dressing room was a pedestal she stood on. She took of her coal and told them to wash it and hang out in get closet. They stripped her of her dress, which was a great relief to her squeezed body. The garment had left red marks all over her skin. They pulled a thin, loose underdress over her head, tying it here and there until it was like a second skin.

As Izatha suspected, they brought out measuring tapes and a seamstress. While they took her measurements, the seamstress asked–with Helga translating– "Is there any preferences you would like the dress to have?"

She smiled from hearing one of her favorite questions. Answering quickly, she watched the seamstress gleam at her response. The woman flipped through the pages of her sketchbook until she stopped at the one she desired. Excitedly, she pointed out the design she liked.

It was just a rough sketch with vague details, but Izatha could vision the rest of it. She smiled brightly and nodded.

By then, the measuring was done. The seamstress wrote down something on her book. She said something as she walked to the door, bowing the Izatha before exiting.

"What did she say? What is her name?" she inquired.

"She is Hito Kannan, and she said, 'I will return in an hour with the garment.' Come, Your Majesty, we must cleanse you," Helga replied, offering her hand to help her down from the pedestal.

Graciously, she stepped down and went into the washroom. It was like her own miniature spa! A hotel-sized hot tub was being filled by the maids. An enclosed area held a stone toilet that, though much different from Earth's toilets, used the same system. A polished sink could be used to wash her hands and hair, and a mirror with a chair would be where her hair and make-up are done. A massage table promised a waxing later on.

Her hair was pinned up into a bun and the underdress was untied and pulled off before she stepped into the tub. Already, it came up to her waist, but it had enough room for five to fit comfortably with a lip around the edge she could sit on.

The steaming water felt like a hot spring, allowing her to close her eyes and relax. After a few minutes, she heard a splashing noise. She opened her eyes to find the maids also entering the water. Immediately, she thought of Japan, how in many animes the girls would all bathe together.

Normally, she would refuse to let others wash her, but she was tired and sore, so she at least let them wash her back. The scrub they gave her cleaned so thoroughly to get away every bit of product and dirt that she felt like she had new skin.

After she was washed and rinsed, she had her hair washed and combed. A moisturizer was lathered into her white locks before wrapped in a towel to dry. Next was the hard part.

Reluctantly, Izatha laid still as they waxed, plucked, tucked, and trimmed every inch of her visible. Though they had put a warm towel on her face, it did little to keep her from noticing the pain the vibrated through her body every few seconds. It was better that she got little rest and it got done quickly instead of slowly bearing through it, she supposed.

The seamstress had not yet arrived, so she was treated to a relaxing massage while they waited. It was bittersweet to her muscles still aching from the concert and the fight.

Just when she was starting to feel better, a knock came on the door.

The maids brought Izatha into the dressing room and slipped on the underdress again. While they pinned it once again, the seamstress walked in, carrying her new gown. She was breath taken at the sight of it.

The plum fabric had thin layers bunched into a frilly design. It's ruffles looked like fire creeping up to her waist where the top and skirt separated. The top was pulled into a single strap over her right shoulder, crossing her back to attach just below her ribs, matching the slit running up to her knee. It clung close to her skin and fanned out like a budding flower.

She danced in the dress, feeling like a little girl as she laughed. Before she tripped, she stopped and went to sit before the mirror so they could finish dressing her up. They were light on the make-up, simply bringing out her natural beauty. Next came the accessories.

Silver, thin strapped heels kept her from stepping on the seam. Her necklace, which had been returned freshly polished, was in the right place on her neck. Silver chains dangled from her pierced ears with white gems at the end. She refused any bracelets and rings offered to her.

Her hair came last. They pinned her snowy locks into a pancaked bun of braids. The pins and clips were also silver with white jewels crusting the ends. The jewels sparkled around and in the bun, bringing the outfit to life.

Izatha felt amazing add she gazed at herself in the mirror. The only thing missing was a tiara and she would be a fairy tale princess.

A knock came at the door as they put on the finishing touches. Izatha nodded for the servant to see who it was.

She heard the whine of the door opening. "I have come to escort Princess Nora to dinner," a familiar voice said.

This would be interesting. Prince Leonard, picking her up so he can waltz into the Grand Hall with her on his arm, the hero who found the true heir to the throne. Or, he could just be showing her an act of kindness, showing her where the Grand Hall is when he knows this is all new to her, to win over her heart.

"Helga, please relieve the maids are relieved for the night. Tell Hito Kannan to sketch some casual outfits, for I will be back to pick out my wardrobe tomorrow," she instructed.

Helga nodded and bowed before existing with the maids, leaving her alone with Leonard in the entranceway.

She walked out to him slowly, watching him carefully for his reaction when he saw her in real clothes. He offered a quick bow to her before meeting her gaze.

"I suppose you heard my reason for being here," he said sharply.

He looked quite handsome in his attire. He was dressed in a sunset orange door with an emerald undershirt. She felt overdressed against his business-casual look. A black metal amulet–twin to Izatha's–hung in the center of his chest.

Now she understood what the symbol mesnt. It must be the Noran bloodline crest, which would mean that her pendant was actually an amulet like his.

It was more logical to show your rank with an amulet than a crown, but she wondered if they were specially made for each descendant or posed down from one to another. Also, would there be three: one for the king, one for the queen, one for the heir?

She had looked at it a bit too long, for he followed her line of view. His eyes twinkled in amusement.

With a wave of his hands, the amulet morphed into a ring around his head. A crown. It changed once again, back into an amulet. Magic. She wondered if hers could do that.

"Where you told to come from me, or did you decline one of my maids showing me the way to win my favor?" she asked.

His lips pierced into a tight line, the twinkle gone. "I do not see you as a prize to be won as the Court does. They think that whoever woes you will rule, but that would only make you hate us if we tried to charm you. You are a warrior, and you will choose he who proves himself worthy of ruling by your side," he stated.

She caught it. She almost missed it, but she caught it.

"While that is true, you cannot make me think highly of you simply because you have the same ideals as mine. A silver tongue is useful for a trickster, but makes things worse when used on one with the same traits."

She walked towards him until she was standing right next to him, facing the door. "I do hope you can find ways to impress me in a more gentlemanly manner."

Although he said nothing, a hint of frustration lingered on him. She wondered as to why he was so upset at the comment. He turned and opened the door for her like a  good gentleman, being to carve a smile onto his face.

One point Izatha, two for ghost boy.

As they walked, she noticed that there was no one in the halls. She thought there would be others going to the Grand Hall as well, unless either they were already there or not coming, which she doubted would happen.

Something caught her eye out a window. Stopping to look, she was breathless at the sight she found. The sun had long set, but the city was still lit. It was alive! Energy seeped from the roads and buildings, which cast a soft glow that brightened the paths. The pulse of a beating heart sent out ripples of light coming from the castle itself.

"If the castle grows like a tree, then is the city its seedlings, right?" she asked.

"You catch on quickly. Yes, the houses are the fruit of the castle. The seeds scatter every generation, but they only grow if we nurture them. Now, if it is not much of a bother, will you please continue on to the Grand Hall? They are waiting for us, and it is not good to be late," the raven replied.

Irritation was sharp in his voice, like every second he had to spend alone with her was torture. Still, she honoured his request.

Hillared is amazing! I've already found so many wonderful things that could revolutionize Earth and they're used so abundantly here. I'm not too excited about the people, but that can be changed. Really, the buildings grow! Imagine how quickly and cheaply we could restore entire cities that have had natural disasters or have just fallen into decay with age. I wonder if these buildings can repair themselves, and if they can stand up to high winds and such better than ordinary houses.

What are you recording a diary entry in your brain? Shut up!

Despite yelling at herself, thoughts of it still plunged her mind as she grasped the concept of it all. It kept growing, covering broken parts while expanding, not like a house made of dead, rotting wood and cold, hard steel. It was alive and should be giving the same reverence as any living thing; it may not have a heart or soul our brain, but every cell knows what to do.

As she walked, Izatha ran her hand along the wall, feeling the living creature under her skin. It felt so nice, and she was amazed by it all.

She looked quickly to see Leonard looking at her as if she just ate a bug. Wondering what he was thinking of, she pretended to ignore him as if she didn’t care about him. After all, he seemed very clear as to how he cared about her.

Except he isn’t, now is he? Just a few hours ago, he was being polite and respectful to me. He still is, in a way, but he is giving off a completely different aura from before. What does he want?

The silence of the passageways was replaced by the buzz of the packed dining hall. Her thoughts were replaced by anticipation as she grinned. The raven stopped just before they could see inside the doors.

“Wait here until you are called,” he stated.

Then he disappeared inside.