The principality makes some bizarre choking noise, it and its worm shuddering with something Illyria cannot perceive. Is this some sort of fit? A strange pre-funerary ritual of their species, perhaps.

They are laughing, mistress, Pancakes informs her sagely. They find my name amusing.

"I do not understand." She addresses both her pet and the principality, unable to hide her confusion for these circumstances. Her head tilts onto a skewed axis. "It is the name of my Yastigilian hound, as she chose. You would do well to respect it, or I will make collars of your spines."