Allen opened the doors leading into the ballroom, his footsteps echoed within the gigantic room. After making sure no one was left, he locked the room, and walked on. He heard footsteps, fading away. His eyes widened as he realized that the very corridor he was in was within was leading to the princess's room. He picked up his speed, opening the door to the princess's room, and noticing she was not in. He jogged forward, his other hand resting on the hilt of the sword buckled to his waist. He saw movement ahead, and he looked down the stairwell.<br/><br/>Allen paused, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword, a full inch of tempered steel from the scabboard, and the air holding the wavering candle aloft. He was about to shout a warning when he realized that it was the princess. He sheathed his weapon and stepped outside, standing behind the princess. "My lady, what are you doing out so late? You have a funeral to attend tomorrow." He considered the princess's mental condition, acknowledging  the fact that she had just lost her last known family member, "You seem to be having some trouble sleeping. Could you tell why is that so, my lady?"