**Morning in Oakroot**
The sun rose over Oakroot Town like a lazy cat stretching—slow, golden, and utterly unconcerned with Kael's problems.
He'd spent the night in a *questionably* legal barn (the owner had taken one look at the panda and charged *triple*), and now, with straw in his hair and the distinct smell of *regret* clinging to him, Kael sat on a wobbly stool outside a tea shop.
The Moon Fox licked its paw, eyeing the townsfolk with disdain. *"This place reeks of turnips and poor life choices."*
Kael sighed. "It's *quaint*."
The panda, meanwhile, had discovered the joys of *flower boxes* and was currently *methodically* eating every petunia in sight.
The tea shop owner—a round woman with flour-dusted cheeks—leaned over the counter. "Y'look like a man in need of honest work."
Kael blinked. "Do I?"
She nodded at his hair (still *technically* rainbow, though now more of a *muted* bruise-purple). "That, or yer cursed. Either way, I'll pay ya two silvers to fix my cellar door."
*Simple. Safe. No bandits, no rats, no life-threatening disasters.*
Kael should've known better.
The "cellar door" turned out to be a *rotted slab of wood* hanging by a single rusted hinge.
Kael poked it. The hinge *squeaked* like a dying goose.
Fox: *"This is beneath me."*
Panda: *[Already chewing on the doorframe]*
Kael rolled up his sleeves. "How hard could it be?"
**Two Hours Later**
The door was *gone*. The *frame* was gone. The *wall* had a suspicious panda-sized hole in it.
The shop owner stared. "Y'replaced my door with *air*."
Kael wiped sweat from his brow. "Technically, it's *more* efficient now. No door means no door problems."
She handed him *one* silver. "Get out."
Lunch was a *stale* meat pie (the panda had eaten the good ones) shared under a willow tree.
Lia appeared like a vengeful ghost, plopping down beside him. "Heard you *redefined architecture* today."
Kael groaned. "It was *one* wall."
She smirked, tossing a pebble at the panda—who *caught it mid-air and ate it*. "So. That thing's *S-rank*?"
"Yep."
"And it's *useless*."
"*Hey,*" Kael protested, as the panda *licked mold* off a rock. "It's... *special*."
Lia snorted. "Special like a *three-legged horse*."
The Moon Fox, from Kael's shoulder: *"Accurate."*
Evening brought them to the town's lone inn, where Kael *attempted* to negotiate for a room.
Innkeeper: "No pets."
Kael: "They're *emotional support* beasts."
Innkeeper: *[Points at the panda, currently wrestling the inn's goose]* "That one's *felony* support."
The goose was *winning*.
That night—crammed into a hayloft *again*—Kael stared at the rafters.
Fox: *"You're brooding. It's annoying."*
Kael sighed. "We're supposed to be *training* for the Capital Games. But how?" He gestured to:
- The panda, *asleep* with its paws in a stolen soup pot.
- The fox, *refusing* to practice illusions out of spite.
- His hair, *still* faintly glowing.
A pause. Then—
Fox: *"...We could *not* embarrass ourselves.*"*
Kael threw a handful of hay at it.
Dawn brought a *dusty* traveler to the barn, clutching a torn scroll.
"You Kael?" he rasped.
Kael sat up. "Uh. Yes?"
The man shoved the scroll into his hands. "Message from the capital. *They've moved the Games up.* Y'got *three days*."
The parchment fluttered open
, revealing two words:
**"Good luck."**
Fox: *"We're *double* doomed."*
Panda: *[Snoring into the soup pot]*