Prologue: THE CORONATION

The sun was high overhead when the trumpets blared their fanfare across the courtyard, and Banon thought, the whole kingdom. It was the day he had waited for his entire life: the day he would become king.

Life couldn’t get better, Banon thought as his retainers draped over him the ceremonial blue cloak with the golden Renais royal emblem emblazoned on the center of the back.

---

Life couldn’t get worse, Janten thought to himself, pulling the helmet of his disguise over his head. He had just barely escaped another assault of words by some citizen that seemed to think he was worse than Fomortiis.

“That man never actually endured the War of the Stones, did he?” Janten chuckled. “He wouldn’t say those things if he had heard Grandfather’s stories.”

People always seemed to think Janten was evil just because “the prophecy predicted that he would resurrect the Demon King.” Why would Janten even want that? The Demon King was the foulest creature to have ever existed. Besides, even if he wanted to, Janten wouldn’t know how. Fomortiis’ body was destroyed over fifty years ago.

He fell in at attention beside the other soldiers in the courtyard. His two lances crossed his back, and his armor and helmet concealed him well enough that not even the other soldiers would recognize him for who he was. Then the fanfares introduced King Finnick, and the citizens in the court erupted in applause. The soldiers and Janten, on the other hand, remained as stiff as the two statues of Eirika and Ephraim which formed the archway in the center of the courtyard.

Through the slits of his helmet, Janten could see the king striding forward, basking in all the pomp and circumstance. Behind him, six men, three on either side, carried the trail of his massive robe. He came to a halt at the front of the piazza, and the men dropped his trail as he turned around.

Behind him came the sword-bearer, who carried the ceremonial Regal Sword which had never seen combat. It was used for knighting and, for tonight, the appointment of the new king. He elegantly handed the blade off to the king, and took his place at the far right of King Finnick. Next were the royal families, save Janten and Banon, followed by the representatives of all the nations of Magvel, and the royal retainers and servants.

---

Bralot fell in not far to the right of King Finnick, in just the perfect place that he could manage what he needed to do without the king noticing the culprit. The first finger traced the ridges of the gem in his Stone Stave beneath the folds of his robe. Even if there were those who could see what he was up to, few would recognize him for what he was, even after the event.

No one would see him steal the Sacred Stone, and by the time the ceremony was over, he would be gone. Many would think he had escaped just to save his own life. He had thought this over and plotted its chronology for months, for years. It felt like it had been an eternity, but he would bring his wife back from the dead. Finally, he could see her again. It felt so close, yet so far away.

But after he had completed what he wanted, he would have to somehow return the Sacred Stone to its rightful place in secret, impossible without the bracelets of the royal family. Even his warp powder could not get him in and out of that chamber.

Then he would have to conceal his resurrected wife from everyone. She would have to be his own personal secret. Not that he minded that at all. She would be his, and his alone, once more.

Bralot saw Banon marching through the courtyard, and knew his chance as growing near.

---

Banon waved and smiled at the cheering people, bathing in the limelight. He loved being a noble. It was a beauteous life, and today, he would get even more. Of course, he would be expected to fulfill responsibilities, but that was what servants were for, right? He’d assign others to do the work, and he’d get the credit. All he’d have to do is enjoy life and every now and then take a bath in gold coins.

As he neared the podium that the king stood at, the cheers began to subside, and King Finnick cleared his throat. When the crowd was quieted, he began his speech. “I thank you for coming today to support the appointment of the new King of Renais,” King Finnick began. “I thank you even more for your continuous support of my reign over the lands these past few years. It has truly been an honor. But now, it is time for a new generation to take the lead and bring beauty and prosperity to us.”

That made no sense. Why was he talking about rain when it was sunny out? And how does rain belong to someone? And what did generation mean again? And then that word prosperity . . . wasn’t that something like happiness? Well, if it was, then Banon was going to be enjoying a lot of happiness.

It was a long, drawn-out speech, which Banon only understood a small bit of, and he found his attention frequently being drawn to the birds and butterflies that wandered near. He realized he had not gotten anything out of the speech, but he didn’t care. The crown-bearer and the Servant of the Stone began to march out, ten paces apart.

“Not yet, Banon,” Finnick said just loud enough for Banon to hear when the crown-bearer came close, indicating that Banon was not to grab the crown yet.

Banon faced the Servant of the Stone as he approached, and the crown-bearer took his place at Banon’s left, facing inward.

---

Janten was excited. No, ecstatic. He knew his brother had no idea what he was to do. He knew that the Sacred Stone’s light would retreat from Banon’s touch, indicating that he was not prepared for the kingship. Well, he hadn’t actually had a premonition, but knowing his brother, there was no way he could be fit to be king.

---

Bralot readied the stave beneath his cloak, and began muttering the chant under his breath. The fanfares would be enough to drown out his voice. Then, when the Servant of the Stone and his flank of guards came into perfect view, Bralot unleashed the energy from his working spell.

A bright flash engulfed the yard, and when the flash was gone, the Servant of the Stone had been turned to a statue himself, along with his company of four guards. The courtyard erupted into chaos as Bralot’s followers warped themselves into the courtyard, blasting down the Knights of Renais.

Now to just take the Sacred Stone and leave.

His orders were simple: Protect the young king whom was being crowned and was to be king....Carn didn't care for it one bit. This damnable kingdom of Renais had cost him more than a few headaches in the past when he traveled with his former band of mercenaries. He was not trusted to be near the king being a native of Grado and a mercenary on top of that and he didn't care at all. If he knew his lordlings many of those who did not live to see the War of the Stones were puny runts not fit to lick the boot of the older generation. Of course he was a lowly commoner so why should he care. He kept his swords close at hand as he traveled around the castle doing his rounds. His distaste for the two brothers was that of a man whom had knew speeches to be just talk in the past. Especially introduction speeches which were simply bravado and promises both truth, half true, and false. He didn't even listen to it and he had wondered why the Renais people found the Restoration Family so enchanting. Sure Ephraim was a stone-cold monster on the battlefield trained by the Obsidian Stone Dussel himself whom Carn revered as a colossus on the battlefield from the tales ol' Redfist. Regardless his glances from the newer recruits in the army told him one thing: They were already spreading rumors of all sorts about him and about his past. In fact he heard of said recruits referring to him like some sort of demon. It amused him maybe he should cut down on scaring them so much with his ability to make himself appear much more dark. He smirked to himself as he walked through the hallways. "By blood and honor I fought with the hawk....in the air we soared so brave and proud....to fight for honor to fight for my own flock...I never gave in and I never said die....[/I]" Carn said to himself as he walked down the hallway. His song was the oath each soldier in his company said when they went to battle. It signified that they would fight like a hawk and die like one too. As he patrolled the hallways he looked out at the mass of people through a window and wondered....what exactly was this place like when the old lords of the land back in the story of the five heroes first claimed their stakes as lords? It must have been quite the interesting time indeed....And then suddenly the court erupted into chaos! What the hell was going on and why!? Regardless of all this he knew his duty...[B]"It seems that I am off to actually do a job...I was hoping for an easy paycheck until I was discharged..." Carn stated bluntly as he charged down the hallway towards when he last remembered the young lords being at.

Diana felt proud of herself, that all the hard training she had done got her picked for the honor guard. She was told it was only a tradition and that it was unlikely anything would actually happen at the coronation but was excited nonetheless. She stood tall and proud with everyone else and watched the soon-to-be king walk by. She had never seen royalty before and marveled at his magnificent cape, she was a little surprised by his seemingly clueless expression during the speech but she figured he had more important things to worry about. Then a strange feeling shifted through the air, the hairs on the back of her neck rose up, and she readied her spear, a couple seconds later a flash of light engulfed the entire courtyard. After she blinked the light from her eyes she saw dozens of people coming into the courtyard via warp powder. She charged the closest one hoping to take him/her down before he/she got a chance to do anything.

Renais:

There was an unmistakable and pervasive feeling of nervousness in the air as the people passed by and the evening marched ever closer. While many of her scholarly associates would argue that such a morose atmosphere could always be found when power was transitioned to an unproven prince, Cecilia knew for a fact that other forces were at play. Among the citizenry a Virad prophecy was almost gospel, and so many feared that today's coronation would be the start of something monumental and terrible.

Cecilia knew that these fears would indeed come to pass.

She would have a hand in whatever was about to ensue, but thankfully she would not have to bare the weight of her actions alone. Finally spotting her master's visage breaking away from the mass of people was the first time all day that she had felt at ease.

Her master embraced her before pulling back to examine her face. With a bemused tone to his voice he told his apprentice, "These last two years have been far kinder to you then they have been to me."

"And yet your vanity has held up remarkably well judging by that freshly tailored ensemble of yours", Cecilia retorted. The response got a laugh out of her mentor, though she couldn't help but see the sad truth to his words. Much like a king in times of peril, her mentor Valoise seemed to age exponentially over these past two years. His brown hair was now infiltrated by strands of gray. Though he still carried himself with poise, she noticed his gait had changed and his posture worsened; the beginnings of crow's feet could begin to be seen around the corners of his eyes. She couldn't imagine the types of deals and negotiations he had to conduct with the other members over these past two years just to protect this mission. Those thoughts were for another time however. By the way Valois’ eyes dimmed Cecilia knew he wanted to change the topic of discussion and get straight to the matter at hand.

"Were you able to accomplish the mission I gave you over these last two years?" Valois inquired. He was more direct than she was expecting with his questioning, but she could sympathize.

"It wasn't easy... but I was able to infiltrate their order like you asked." Her words appeared to assuage his fears, but he didn't know the full story. "I still have some work to do before I get the answers we are looking for but I would like to discuss this somewhere with less people around if you don't mind."

---

The two of them shared a meal before they found a stable without a soul around spare the horses who were kept there. She had no idea how to approach what she was about to say indirectly, so she opted for her master's blunt line of questioning. "Do I have permission to speak freely?"

This caught Valois off guard, and he gave her a slightly perplexed expression before replying "I wouldn't have been a teacher if I was opposed to students speaking their minds."

She sighed, wondering where to begin. "I will tell you that you were right to have us here on this day. They did have plans for the coronation; one's I am to be involved in. What we have to do is despicable... but I am not convinced it is necessarily the wrong course either. I... don't know how to reconcile this."

He place a hand upon her shoulder and gave a weak smile. "It is good that you have been able to hold onto your conscience after all you have been through Cecilia. We are not the people that history will remember, but we are the ones who nudge history along to its proper course. Sometimes that means we must do terrible things so other do not have to. Though in your case, you don't have to shoulder that burden alone."

Those words were all she needed to hear. Reaching into her cloak, she gave her teacher a small pouch. "I was hoping you would say that", she beamed. "I was able to procure some extra warp powder for you as well. No one will notice an extra member in the chaos so you should be able to avoid suspicion."

He took the pouch into his cloak, and said "While we are in a gift giving kind of mood, I have something for you as well." Valois walked to one of the stable horses and removed something from it's pack. As soon as he placed the bundle in her hands she knew what it was from the weight alone.

"My mask?", she could feel a heavy wave of emotion wash over her. It was almost as if a piece of herself had been returned.

"Been keeping it around for such an occasion; as good as when you left it in my care. Now let's hurry or we'll be late to the coronation. We can talk more along the way."

It was an extravagant day to be in the courtyard this evening.Many people,like himself,were gathered here on this special ceremony far and wide to watch the crowning of the new King of Renais,this homeland he was sought to be raised in and proud for.It wasn't a very admirable view though,since he was stationed on the east flank to guard one of the entrances,and a ways way from where all the excitement was focused on,with the difficulty of the crowd which was buzzing frankly.Just as the guards here were presumed the do,they were to stare straight ahead with their head held high-a posture required for the long term periods.They were not allowed to glance around.He could hear the trumpet's loud blare,which made Breyan force to resist himself from looking out of mere curiosity.

And then the crowd would cease its noise for the time being,when he strained to listen to King Finnick's familiar voice along with a series of the long speech,according to the coronation.He stayed in tune long enough,before it was wrapped towards its end.The time would come,and it would be great glory to write to his parents how he experienced the crucial events since they couldn't come themselves afterwards when he would be off duty.

...But it was that odd light that turned everything into corruption.He could see--just out of the corner of his eyes,a blinding white that was like his life flashing before his eyes.Though,he had not a single idea what was going on since the mercenary couldn't swerve their head,even the tiniest bit.Until then,the yard suddenly erupted into a riot of stress as their was roaring with the surprised and shocked reactions of many.It was like a blur,with the sudden of hooded marauders warped into what was now a battlefield, going to pick off the soldiers who stood in their way.

It took a few seconds for Breyan to realize they were intruders attacking.Instinctively,he reached for the hilt of his sword and gripped the handle,drawing the blade in one quick motion.The enemy had ambushed,and there was no reason to stand guard any longer.He was going to have to fight.

The day had already been eventful for Roland, he had spent the morning sifting through countless reports that had been coming in for the last week. He had to look through every rumor, every threat and judge their validity. A few reports had caught his eye, but even those weren't enough for him to take any more action then pulling and redistributing guards for the ceremony. Although he didn't exactly approve of Prince Banon, the boy was clueless and didn't seem to know what went into leading men, and even less on ruling an entire country. The few times he had meet the prince it always seemed as if he were daydreaming of off in another land, not exactly the qualities sought after in a king. In fact in Roland's opinion Prince Janten would make a far better King, the boy was smart and he actually payed attention in his studies, but sadly he was also caught up in the prophecy and was supposedly going to be the key to bringing the Demon King back into this world. Again a load of horse shit in Roland's eyes, but he kept his opinions to himself and supported the King's decision on his elected heir. But it was up to the Sacred Stone to decide now and Roland would trust in its power and follow the young prince if it choose him.

Hours of preparations later Roland stood off to the side of the main stage, he was no Honor Guard so he didn't have a front row seat, but he was close enough to keep a watch out for anything suspicious. Things seemed to be moving along smoothly, aside from Banon daydreaming during his father's speech, but that couldn't exactly be helped nor prevented only watched disappointingly. But then suddenly there was a bright flash and Roland was barely able to cover his eyes in time not to be blinded. Once the flash subsided Roland was instantly jumping into action, he started shouting out orders to his nearby troops and sent off orders to others stationed elsewhere. After the immediate orders were given Roland drew his bow and moved up onto the main stage ready to put an arrow into anyone who came to close to the stage.

Renais:

Part of her knew that what she was doing was wrong, that the people dying all around her were innocent and of no fault of their own. It didn't stop her in the slightest. Her teacher was right, fate could never place everyone in the convenient position they desired. Not everyone could be the paragon; the means offered had to be taken.

Instinct and the will to survive take over and push empathy aside as the intensity of battle increases. Cecilia had killed before... but never had she been thrown headfirst into chaos like she was the moment her and her master warped into the throne room. To try and make sense of the bloodshed was pointless, so she didn't make the attempt. There was never Cecilia moved into position with her master behind a group of her so called 'cohorts', occasionally unleashing her magic into the crowds of Renais soldiers, but for the most part she focused on guarding her flanks and keeping herself alive. It was all about buying time.

She glanced over to her master, and was taken aback. He shaped and channeled magic with the grace and poise of a conductor commanding an orchestra. He kept up an offensive pressure by mixing light and dark magic, at one point even knocking a fully clad knight into the air with a concentrated beam of light. Cecilia had never seen her master fight before, and didn't even know if he had substantial experience in combat to begin with. It was clear that she still had much to learn when compared to her master, but that didn't mean she was dead weight by any means. She had plenty of talents and tricks of her own, what better way to prove it than on the battlefield.

---

A soldier, sensing an opportunity and the slight shift in momentum, was able to break through the chaos and charge at her with spear point dead set on running her through. She spun away from his lunge, and drew upon the power of her tome to launch her counter attack. Tendrils of darkness radiated outwards along the radius of the magic circle she materialized in the air, traveling in every direction imaginable as they converged at a single point, where the soldier's heart happened to reside. In an instant, the man was stopped cold in his tracks, watching in silent horror the spectacle of his own blood erupting out of his mid-section. His spear clattered to the ground as his arms clutched at his chest in a vain attempt to stem the tide. He took two meek steps forward before collapsing to the ground. There was no healer who could help him now. Seconds later he died in a pool of his own blood, with one hand meekly grasping Cecilia's shoe. She kicked it aside and rushed to her master, sensing that her situation was on the verge of rapid deterioration.

"We need to act now if we are to do anything", Cecilia gasped out as she launched another volley of her elshade at the soldiers of Renais. "I'm sure you can also sense that this battle cannot endure forever."

Valois nodded to indicate he knew the truth in her words. "It can't endure, but maybe it can hold out long enough for us to accomplish something that we might never get the chance to do again."

"And what", Cecilia inquired. "Would that something be?"

Janten leaped into action instantly, spinning his Slim Lance to in front of him and jabbing it forward, running through a dark mage who thought to send a lethal blast of a Flux tome at the lectern. He quickly turned and bashed the forehead of another tomeslinger with the butt of the spear before bringing the point of it around ans slashing the chest of the mage.

Banon seemed stunned, not moving and simply watching the fight. "Your blade, Banon!" Janten shouted. "Since when do you need orders to attack?!" Janten cursed under his breath and fought his way to his clumsy brother's side. In the process, the very thing he feared would happen, happened: he lost his helmet. He attempted to cover his face so innocents would not see who he was, but with any luck, the carnage and chaos would disguise him well enough for the time being. When at last he had made it to his brother's side, King Finnick was nowhere to be seen. Where could he be?

---

Bralot slipped through the battle, untouched by either side, doing his best to appear as if he were trying to escape. He wasn't, however, escaping just yet. His trajectory brought him right to the petrified Servant of the Stone. Sneering, Bralot snatched the stone and concealed it within his robe. But he had barely escaped the courtyard when he found King Finnick's Silver Sword pointed directly at his nose.

"Ah, King. Good to see you're alive and well. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get as far away from this chaos as possible," Bralot bluffed.

"You take me for a blind man, Bralot. I saw you take our Sacred Stone, and I know it was you who petrified our men, and that those dark people out there are under your command."

"You indeed are sharper than I thought, King. However, you have made one foul mistake by confronting me alone."

"Forgetting something, aren't we?" Finnick retorted, shifting the position of his sword to Bralot's neck and pressing the point against it.

"Hmph. Only shows your ignorance," Bralot said, drawing upon the power of his stave again. Once again, there was a bright flash, and this time, King Finnick had been turned to stone. Taking a step backward, Bralot drew upon the power of his Nosferatu Tome, draining the life energy of the king out of the petrified statue. Then, drawing his Steel Blade, he struck the statue before him, shattering the stone into pieces. Though the first victims of his staff's magic would recover, so long as their statues were unharmed, the King would never be so lucky.

Kicking the sword of now-late King Finnick down the corridor, Bralot scattered his Warp Powder about himself and used the ancient words that empowered it to transport him to the ruins he had discovered in western Darkling Woods. For a moment, he had to catch his breath. Teleporting himself over such a large distance drained his energy, but he'd have time to worry about that later. For the time, he had to conceal the stone in the most safe place he could find. He would not be able to ferry it around with himself. That would be far too dangerous, and keeping it in his quarters at the castle was even more dangerous. These ruins were his best chance.

---

Banon had been escorted out of the courtyard, and now Janten fought alongside Roland. He had cut down at least two more dark mages, but a stray Shade tendril had sliced his left arm, and his right side been fairly injured by a Worm Tome. He was having difficulty properly wielding his spear, and was, at this point, simply trying to survive. Though the numbers of the dark mages had thinned, he was not wanting to take his chances, and thought to escape.

Making his way to the nearest corridor, he slipped away from the chaos and knelt down, taking in slow breaths to avoid paining his injuries on his side. He noticed the remains of an obliterated statue nearby, and thought to himself, Way to add insult to injury. Vandalize the castle and kill off innocents. Wait. . . . Janten had recognized something familiar about the statue's remains. Attempting to move himself over closer to them, he saw the face of his cousin, King Finnick. Oh, no! No statues of the recent King had been erected. The culprit who had petrified the Servant of the Stone and his guards had done the same to Finnick, but had ensured the King wouldn't return.

Who knew what Cecil would do when he found out his father had been killed? Even worse, the people of Renais would be in an uproar. They would blame Janten as always, and he could easily be executed. Alone, Janten curled into a ball, gripping at his wounds, and cried.

For all the hype the coronation had received, Chadwick actually found it rather dull as he stood in place and watched the proceedings take place, drifting off into his thoughts due to boredom. Today is the perfect day for the coronation, he thought to himself as he stood with the rest of the honor guard, a grin threatening to break his stoic expression; though, it was gone with his next thought. The perfect day for a disaster too... Chadwick felt the urge to slap himself, at this rate he was going to jinx the coronation! For the time being he agreed that it was just a feeling, nothing more, and focused his thoughts on the ceremony. The dull and boring ceremony. While he didn't have the best view it was still easy enough to see King Finnick from where he was standing and by correlation, Banon. Chadwick almost wished he couldn't see Banon when he thought he saw confused looks pass over the heir's face from time to time throughout the King's speech. In all his seven years of service to Renais, Chadwick had never thought he'd be wondering if the selected heir was actually fit to rule.

Chadwick wasn't exactly a firm believer of the Virad's prophecy, but he still knew enough about them to know that they had an impressive record. As such, he thought basing the fate of an entire kingdom off of some 'prophecy' was ludicrous. Maybe the current situation, what with foes warping in just before the ceremony was complete, was a sign that the people had chosen the wrong heir. Or maybe it's the beginning of the prophecy, Chadwick thought as he lobbed one of his hatchets at one of the many enemies that had warped in, the hatchet connecting with the man's skull. He adjusted his grip on his poleaxe before charging into the fray. He hated being right.

Carn ran as fast as he could down the halls and down to the battle where his young employers were located at, or at least one of them as it seemed. But before he did so he had to make sure they didn't get pegged by a group of archers whom had come down from a nearby area and held themselves on a balcony. Carn retraced his steps and was pleased his speed was as good as ever. He quickly climbed the steps and rolled as the archer shot at him but missed horridly. Carn's response was brief and deadly. A blade to the neck ended the man's possible spree and his friend pulled out a knife and cut him across the chest only to be countered hard as Carn pulled his sword back and cut the man through the chest. It was a glancing blow but it hurt and Carn silenced the man once and for all by kicking his legs out from underneath him and stabbing him through the neck. The neck was such an easy place to strike. "Know fear as whatever god you worship takes you to your hell." Carn said plainly pulling out his sword he jumped down the balcony landing hard but managed to recover. I might not make it! Carn thought as he ran ignoring any competitors who challenged him due to the quick response from his allied forces. As suddenly as the young prince turned to deal with a mage he left himself wide open to an attack as a mercenary tried to cleave him from behind...but he never even got half way through before Carn ran him through killing him instantly with a blade through the chest. He didn't pull out the iron blade instead he took a sword to the back and jabbed the sharp point of his elbow into the man's chest. "Damn that stings like a bitch....damn you!" Carn said as he faked out the man and let a nearby soldier lance him through the lung allowing Carn to grab the mercenary's sword and decapitate the dastard. Coughing Carn went over to the felled enemy and pulled out his sword from the man's corpse. "Damn that's going to scar if I don't get a cleric....hey Prince Janten you ok? I swear to god if I took this for nothing..." Carn said silently to himself as he touched his wound. It wasn't deep and the cloth could be repaired. Leather armor had it's uses even if it was the cheapest thing out there...

The battle in the courtyard was hectic to say the least, Roland had put down at least three of the dark mages approaching the prince and king himself, but he had taken his eyes off of the king just long enough for him to disappear. Although he knew it was his duty to protect the king, Finnick could hold his own even in a mess like this so Roland wasn't to worried about the king at the moment. In fact his primary concern wan ensuring that Banon didn't get himself killed. Roland held up the rear guard while escorting the princes out of the courtyard with the help of the young Janten. The boy was capable, but took a few wounds in the process and as they reached the doorway leading out of the courtyard Roland grabbed they boy by the shoulder and pushed him back. "That's enough for now, prophecy or no your uncle would have my head if I left you die here. Go with your brother I will catch up soon." he told the prince before yelling out orders to guard the doorway and not allow anyone to pass through. Roland held the door while he waited for a guard unit to form while directing others back to the princes to reinforce their guard. When the door was well enough guarded Roland quickly made his way back to Banon and Janten, checking his remaining arrows along the way. Not knowing what would come next Roland decided to save the arrows for now and drew his sword. When Roland caught up to the princes' guard he did a quick check up on Banon before noticing that Janten had gone off somewhere else. He gave orders to the remaining guard to watch over Banon and take him to a secret palace exit nearby, and then he went on a search for the missing prince. Soon enough he found Janten curled in a ball and a man standing over him, Roland quickened his pace sword ready as he approached. But before Roland got close enough to engage the man he recognized him, one of the mercenaries hired to supplement the palace guard. Roland lowered his sword but kept it ready just in case the mercenary was really an assassin, "What is the Prince's condition we need to get him to safety not curled up on the ground," He barked as he got closer still trying to keep some aspect of control in the situation. When he reached Janten Roland knelled down to inspect his condition, there were no new wounds since he had sent the prince away so why would he collapse like this. That is when Roland turned his attention to the rubble that lay next to the prince. "....No..." Roland said aloud as he realized what had happened and started to put the pieces together, "Janten this is not your fault, there will be a time to morn later, but right now we need to keep moving. I will take you to your brother and the Honor Guard, and I will protect you. I watched how you fought today, you are no traitor and I will stand up for you, but for now we need to move" Roland said to the prince his voice empathetic and concerned but firm. Roland then turned to the mercenary. "Your name is Carn yes? We need to escort the Prince to a secret exit that is close-by, If he refuses to move I will carry him there myself, can I trust you with the fighting in that case?" Roland asked the mercenary trying to keep calm even given the circumstances.

Carn laughed hard at the man's question, could he fight? COULD HE FIGHT? What did this buffoon take him for? He didn't spend over four years training with one of the deadliest warriors in Grado to stand around and die. But the laugh hurt him because of his back wound and he was in no shape to truly go all out unless he got healed. "I can fight all right I could probably take this whole crew by myself or at least bring a chunk of them down with me but I took a sword to the back. I need some elixir of some sort or if possible a stave of healing and quick." Carn replied simply as he wondered about the situation at hand looking across the courtyard quickly he turned back to the man. "As soon as you get either of those I should be able to protect your back just fine. Otherwise I hope your fine with a one armed myrmidon guarding you." Carn finished as he wiped the blood off his iron sword on the nearby corpse of a man then spit on it. "Dastardly spies....this had to be a set up...my mentor taught me that large ambushes, or in this case raids, didn't succeed without someone inside or without being thought out extremely well. He may have been a drunken swine but I'm sure he'd call this situation matches that description..." Carn added quickly gripping the hilt of his blade tightly to ignore the pain coursing down his torso.

Renais:

"Kill the princes."

Cecilia wasn't sure what she was expecting him to say, but it sure wasn't actually came out of his mouth. Behind the mask, her mouth was left slightly agape.

"Are you sure about this", she replied with a hint of trepidation in her voice. Gathering up magical energy, she fired another elshade at an approaching soldier before turning back to her master. "I know what we are doing right now would be called extremism by the kindest person... but regicide is on a whole other level."

Her master shook his head in disagreement. "I know there is a visceral reaction to what i'm suggesting, but clear your heart of emotion and consider the situation logically. Banon is a fool; Janten a pariah. What future is there for Renais with them behind the throne? The people will never truly accept them; the rest of the world will see weakness. We can give them something better, and it is our duty to do so."

She ran the thought through her head to look for a logical rebuttal. She found nothing. Everything she had read or heard about the two princes made it clear that they were unqualified for ruling a kingdom. There was no historical precedent from which to draw a counter argument. Normally one would drift towards the chaos and unrest that results in a sudden upheaval in the power structure, but even that was a non factor as long as Cecil was around. It would stop any worry about the prophecy and potentially even break the hold the Virad had on the world's attention. Weighing that all against a few lives made it clear that it was naive and selfish to not act decisively. She could live with the consequences.

The two pushed through the battle together with a level of poise and synchronicity they never had shared in before. Almost on instinct, the two moved to guard each other's weak side when the other casted magic and within minutes she had killed another four soldiers. Something was off though. She expected to see at least the heir to the throne battling alongside some members of his guard, but there was no swell of elite soldiers anywhere she could see. The prince had turned and ran, abandoning his own people when they needed him most.

They were too late.

Reinforcements were beginning to trickle in from nearby and in time they would win the day. It was an inevitability and with that went their opportunity. Her master and her both had miscalculated; never assuming that they would leave in such a pivotal moment. It only cemented her belief that she was right to follow her master's plan. Such people were unfit to rule.

And now she had to wonder what to do next.