Celica stretches Celica's cheeks, while Celica squirms happily. What is this horror!?

"Tehe~! Just like Celica~!"

"See?! That's how a sane person reacts to a doppelgänger!"

Celica#2 glances at me victoriously. If Celica is your model of sanity, your bar is hugging the ground...

"Curiosity, yes. Molestation, no."

Is he never going to stop yammering about that?

We're currently taking a break from the flight to the clans meeting by stopping on top of a rocky hill surrounded by deep green boreal forest in every direction. All three of us are dressed and geared like female clan warriors. Yes, Azara the doppelgänger too. He/she/it assumed Celica's form.

"So... Why copy Celica? Do you completely lack imagination or do you have a complex about succubi?"

While it can be played off as them being twins, I was bit underwhelmed that Azara just copied Celica.

"Bah. This is just how the power of envy works."

"... I see."

He doesn't elaborate further - or should I say she? I suppose for a true shape-shifter the distinction is close to meaningless. It makes sense that he can only copy someone's appearance instead of creating a new one though; it's the nature of envy to covet what others have after all, making it rather unimaginative state of mind. And since mine is forbidden territory, Celica's form was the best choice - there aren't too many human-passing beings with wings around, and without those we'd have to carry him/her.

I have hard time understanding what Azara is about, though. I suppose the incompatibility is because his envy is an emotion very focused on other people, while my prominent apathy couldn't care less. He seems rather touchy, but not in pride or wrath demon levels - and his basic form is too wimpy for those anyway. It remains mystery to me whether he has demonic traits other than the envy.

Most demons I've talked with have been hybrid of two, but that's not mandatory. There can be more than two, or only one. And there can be variations of the normal sins, like vengeance as a focused and vicious special case of wrath. Come to think of it, my apathy is one too, being sloth's nihilistic version.

But still, limitations aside, shape-shifting could potentially be very useful ability.

"Could you change into anyone you wanted to? Like, say, Holoster?"

"Of course I can! See."

His form shimmers and Celica-face changes to the demonologist's solemn face. There's one caveat though...

"Gross~! Change back to Celica-form~ right now!"

Yeah... wardrobe change not included. I did not really need to see a middle-aged wizard in a V-necked leather bustier and a short dress. He also wears a pauldron, tasset belt and some tribal accessories too, but that doesn't really help. ...I'm sorry Holoster, I cannot take you seriously ever again.

As for our group composition, while Azara is the archer, I'm apparently the main battle tank and Celica is the rogue. She has the twin daggers I gave her back when we fought in a tournament, a dress that leaves thighs bare on both sides, and minimal cloth top, all complemented by copious amounts of blue woad body-paint, swirling in enthusiastic if clumsy patterns all over her skin. I know that certain amount of showing off and bravado is part of the competition, but she's stretching it to the very limits. At least she agreed to wear a cloak - otherwise hiding her wings would have been impossible.

***

The meeting of clans is held on a forested plateau, and the area itself is a large village of tents and stalls of myriad styles and colors. It's not just for the competitors and druids - for many clanspeople this is a chance to meet and trade with other clans as much as to spectate the competition. And now two succubi and one fake crash the party.

We slipped past the guards and demon stones via air and landed onto a deserted spot during the dark fog shrouded hour just before the sunrise. No dogs began barking nor any guards needed to be snuffed and stuffed into a barrel; the stealth portion of this mission went perfectly. I'm not sure what druids were thinking here though; their security leaks more than a Java plugin.

With the special op's first phase successful, we stroll onto the torchlit main path of the meeting as if we were already here. There are festive people around even at this small hour, and Celica looks around intrigued at the barbarian night life.

"Now~ this is my~ kind of--"

"No."

"Buuuut~!"

"Whatever you are planning, don't."

As I intercept Celica's whim before she can jump in and cause a scene, I take a closer look at the clanspeople. I was afraid Celica's rule 63'd William Wallace and my Brünnhilde wouldn't fit in, but there really are all kinds of styles ranging from Conan the Barbarian rejects to people whom I could swear are viking huscarls.

They are all clad in outfits with a barbaric feel, but that's pretty much the only denominator without exceptions. I guess the dull rat-grey garbs and stern atmosphere I encountered in the very first clan town I visited gave me the wrong idea about these people. Imperials sneer at them as stinking barbarians, but there seem to be many nuances I hadn't known before. Each clan has their own styles and customs, which they proudly display.

After renting a tent for ourselves, we bide our time until the dawn to not rise needless suspicions among the humans. As the sun rises following morning few hours before the first of the three rounds begins, we set off to register as competitors. There are no would-be rivals present, we're probably one of the last teams to enter. The imperials had confirmed that the competition is open for all clanspeople with belief in their own mettle, and therefore there are are little formalities to this. We just need to give the clerk responsible for registrants our names. I signal Celica and Azara.

"Follow my lead."

"Okay~!"

"If you know what you're doing."

Approaching the clerk, thinking of an appropriate fake name - I need to use an alias, since the druids know my real name. It comes to me without a second thought.

"Xena."

Hah. A reference no-one else in this world will know. ...I'm sad.

"And the others?"

The clerk seems to expect Celica's answer next. Surely she won't give her real name, right?

"Ce--"

Noo!

"(Use an alias! They could have heard of your real name, and you don't want the bother that is sudden summons from them afterwards!)"

"...licaxena. I'm Celicaxena~!"

No, Celica, don't just add my fake-name after yours! Nghh...

The now blank-faced clerk turns towards Azara. Azara, do not fail me! He/she glances at me and smirks. No, you bitch! Don't--

"You may call me... Azaraxena!"

Whyyyyy? Only I can be the warrior princess! You two don't even have boobplate!

Looking at us with a raised eyebrow, the clerk is becoming suspicious. Quick, how do I fix this mess?

"... We're sisters."

"Ah. My condolences."

He gives me eyes of sympathy that only one with a stupid family can possess, and proceeds to admit us in. The warrioress trio Xena, Celicaxena and Azaraxena has joined the Great Hunt.

***

The first round begins soon after. There are great many teams taking part in it, most of whom will be eliminated in the first round. Apparently this part is generally the same every year: find and slay the strongest monster on this plateau you can before the sunset. At the edge of event camp spectators watch as a high druids - one the targets of our mission - rises a horn and signals the beginning with a deep long note. BWOOOOOOAAAAAAAAA!

"Let the Great Hunt begin! May the ancestors guide your blade and arrow!"

Every participating team starts making their way to the designated hunting grounds, a hilly area covered in dry, stunted pine forest and sun-bleached grass. With this many participants some overlapping is unavoidable, but most prefer to find their own path. As we join in, I whisper to remind Celica not to overdo it.

"(We need to stay within human limits, don't do anything that--)"

Before I can finish saying this she is already running into the forest with superhuman speed. This naturally gets quite a lot of attention from both competitors and spectators. Sighhhh... I knew this would happen. Damage control needed. Again. If her annoyingly good fighting skills weren't needed for the actual assassination part, I wouldn't have brought someone so incapable of restraint within hundred miles of this mission...

"'Oh. That's Celicaxena for you, her speed enchantment is unmatched.'"

My performance may have been tad dead-pan, but it is plausible enough explanation and everyone is too busy energetically setting forth to waste time anyway. I, on the other hand, am already feeling the weight of the world.

...Why did I agree to this shit again?