Her factions strained, Sult gave a pearly smile as she nodded to the comments of the people surrounding her. She did her best to hide it beneath her perfect demeanor, but deep inside she was seething.

She had missed everything. The princess, the dolled up knights, Fanilly in a dress, Garret in a ceremonial suit. Swarms of fly-like would-be pretenders had flocked around her, and were once again, courting the thorny Rose of the Sunfield. Some idiot had spread a rumour that she had finally settled her head and would not refuse advances any longer. It didn't help her dress caught the eye of a lot of them, white and blue with certain highlights, which emphasized her bust and gave her quite the hourglass figure. Long, elbow length gloves with a blue ribbon completed the suit, as her hair had been tied up in a bob decorated with a white, fragant rose. Her fine, porcelain-like white shoes clapped rythmically, as the diamond earrings and pendant sparkled so slightly.

But fragant roses always have bugs droning about, as she bit her lip and politely dejected the newest suitor. She was improving, at least this time she hadn't soaked someone's face in wine.

She had the deep suspicious that the one who had started such a farce of rumour to hamper her had been her brother, Nero. At the very least, he was enjoying her personal struggle to not be buried in droll suitors. The smug knight was even swirling a glass of wine, savouring the moment! The nerve.

And unlike her, not many people were trying to bother him. He had chosen a bold choice of clothes. His battle, black armor, polished until it could be used as mirror, was his formal wear. But it was clear, because of the sparse decorations and dents, that unlike some armors, this was far from a ceremonial armor. He completed his garbs with his sword at his hip, and a luxurious cloak of black raven feathers, which rested atop his shoulders and back. He wasn't wearing any helmet, and he had combed carefully his tresses.

It was you, you bastard.

Sult would give anything to distract the insistent males.

And then her wish had been granted, in an awful manner.

"WHAT?" Most of the nobles looked in the direction of the princess, giving Sult's cue to sneak away from their encirclement and approach her fellow knights.

It was a no brainer on who she stick to, standing tall amidst the chaos in the crowd. Delicate gloves took the muscular arm of Sir Garret.

"What's going on, Sir Garret?" Sult said, concerned and relieved that she had finally managed to shake off the male crowd his brother had summoned. "Is...that..Tyaethe??" She added, her eyes widening.

Meanwhile, Nero's wine cup had stopped swishing, as he looked with half boredom, half annoyance the attempt on the princess. Well, talk about bad luck. Fanilly and her knights seemed to be hogging the spot as royalty's favorites.

Torn between ignoring it, and making a last attempt to save face, Nero chose the later, as he raised his hand and voice. "Ravens! To arms! Support the Roses and protect the princess!" He beckoned to the few scattered men he had around the party, as he himself trounced forwards the center of the chaos, hand in the sword pommel.

Someone dying messily in this circumstances would be quite troublesome, even if by supporting the Roses he would probably lose funding opportunities to his knights.

Christina shook her head, keeping half of her focus on maintaining the barrier. The magic didn't like being cast without an anchor, and if she let it the shield would shrink until it settled onto one. Beyond that, she spent the effort to respond to her captain.

"Unless the assassin brought a battlehammer or a magic user, I should be able to hold this barrier until the danger passes." She spoke through clenched teeth, her body rigid as she fought the will of the barrier. Still she didn't seem to be losing.

Another knight was swift to join them in defense of the Princess. Sir Gillian! Good, good, Fanilly had faith in his support. There was no-way any other assassins would possibly be reaching the Princess. Not with all of them here.

"I'm glad you're here, Sir Gillian," she said, nodding to the man as he went to join Sir Ian. But, as he began to speak... did he think someone had been planning something? But at the moment it seemed a bit unlikely... after all, it was counting on the fact that the Princess through the party because of their defeat of the bandits. But still... it was an unpleasant possibility. At the moment, however, Fanilly was more focused on keeping the Princess safe.

"Who did I... ah..." for a moment, Eliabelle was silent, attempting to recall who had told her about the bandits. After all, it was sometimes difficult to recall information in such a stressful situation. "I... I believe in was Endril, the Guard-Captain. But... what does he have to do with this? Did... did they catch the assassin yet?"

Eliabelle tried to look past her guardians.

From what Fanilly could see, it looked like the diminutive killer was still on the loose. But... maybe she'd been cornered?

"... Regardless of what happens, stay put. you'll be safe, Princess."

The windows were icing up... Tiral? Good! He was cutting off escape routes... the other partygoers, in their panic, had largely cleared the main floor at the very least...

---

The moment that the call of 'Assassin' rang out, a fire lit in Bethany's eyes. She stepped forward, and at Tiral's questioning, she shook her head.

"I can't designate targets for a wide-range sleep spell like that," she explained, simply, in a much more steady(though still soft and not exactly intimidating in the slightest) tone then before. She reached into a pouch on her hip, and drew out what looked like nothing more then a small, narrow block of wood.

But in her hand it extended, forming a thin staff. She pointed it towards the exit.

"Shards of diamond gather, fuse, form, heed the words of the long-dead master, the speaking mountain! Ignite Barrier!"

---

The assassin caught sight of the lunging attack by the crazy sword-wielding little girl. An attempted bearhug? It didn't matter. She sprang back, spreading her legs apart and putting a hand down to steady herself. The windows had frozen over. But nothing, yet, had barred her exit! There were knights all around her, but if she could just make it through the doorway...

Maybe, just maybe, her failure wouldn't be the end. Maybe there was still something she could do.

Straightening and spinning on her heal, she immediately made for the doorway(it was far too large for one knight to stop her!)... and watched an enormous purple barrier of light with twisting symbols around the edges form over it, completely barring her exit.

"..."

The assassin stopped. She did nothing for a moment, before glancing back at those who had surrounded her.

Silently, she fell to her knees, and buried her face in her hands.

There was no escape.

The assassin's evasion attempts were surprisingly acrobatic and competent, given the limited space to work in and the large amounts of opposition she was facing. Therefore, it was simply unfortunate that her choices for avoiding the paladin's lunge amounted to 'moving backwards' before giving up.

There wasn't much way out of being grabbed from an onrushing force when your head was firmly buried in your hands. Fortunately for the assassin, Tyaethe's anger was still far below the level of brutalising prisoners. She swept the small attempted murderer up in her lunge and then pivoted, even though there was no way to stop her charge by that point. It was better to take the impact with the court mage's barrier than harm a surrendering foe.

The assassin didn't make even the slightest noise as she was grabbed, nor as she felt the light impact through her assailant. She just remained silent. As they hit the ground, she didn't struggle. She just remained completely silent. She didn't even move when Tyaethe did release her, though she was certainly still breathing. It didn't really matter what happened to her anymore. She'd failed so completely, it just didn't matter.

All she felt now was anger and sorrow.

Sir Garrett furrowed his brows at the response he’d received from the Princess. Tilting his head to the side he grimaced and cracked his neck as the Princess was dragged away by the Sacred walking Corpse Tyaethe. With a heavy sigh Count Thorn faded and was replaced by the demeanor of a pissed off Sir Garrett. Turning the glower towards the alcohol he leveled it on the nobles staring at the snubbed Hill tribe Count. They parted like water before him as he walked through the crowd. So This is how things are truly done in Thaln. Good to know, I’ll have to let the Jarls know. It would seem that perhaps we have less of a future here than I thought. No surprise really.

Seeing Gillian drinking he made a beeline for the younger Knight. Tyaethe had really pissed him off with her foolish commentary. Gillian was no better really but atleast he stood up for what he believed in. Not something that Tyaethe really did; she was just a zealous freak of magic who could really be bothered to get off her high horse and take her head out of her ass. Tyaethe stopping spewing her propaganda and touting the merits of the Iron Rose was probably Never going to happen but one could always hope. Really all her power came from being the oldest Knight in the order and attaching herself to the captain which wasn’t something he planned on doing given Fanilly’s track record and her inability to reign in some of the idiots in the Order. She was new sure; but everyone was dead set on taking advantage of her. What did I really expect? I was just looking for a place to hide and that has been shot to shit. Might as well play the game?

Another set of female arms looped around his right arm and he turned to look finding none other than Sult. Smiling down at her he chuckled “not much just being politically snubbed and having to deal with Tyaetha, and to answer your second question. Yes. That is Tyaetha.” Feeling a bit better now that Sult had made an appearance and had called him Sir Garrett instead of Count Thorn. Turning to head towards the table again he suddenly stopped.

Just as he was about halfway to the bar the yelling began. Turning he raised an annoyed eyebrow. The darting figure of the assassin made for the doors. What the hell? Frowning he reached down and freed the axe from its hoop on his hip. Switching it into his right hand he tilted his head as he scanned the frantic crowd of nobles. Reaching out with his left hand he secured Sult’s hand in it to make sure she wasn’t swept away by the crowd. Turning a full one hundred and eighty degrees he started back through the crowd. The nobles parted around the big knight with a massive single edged axe in his hands as though he were a rock in a river. Tracking the movements of the other Knights it dawned on him that was where Marianne had been headed when she’d stormed off after the argument.

Shit.

Making sure that the Princess and Fanilly were relatively safe behind a shield of magic he tugged Sult after him as he headed towards the exit from the party. Sir Garrett arrived just in time to see the aftermath of the failed escape attempt. They had caught her simply. Why was there only one assassin? Turning he leaned in close next to Sult and used the opportunity to tug her close enough to pass her the dagger from his lower back. “Take this, be careful and go back to the Captain. This seems like too easy of a win, see if you can spot anyone who looks out of place?” Releasing her from the hold he had on her waist he smiled gently at her and nodded as he headed towards the other Knights.

It appeared that Tyaetha had things under control. Reaching for his belt he took one of the pair of black leather gloves he’d brought to complete his get up and tugged it on. Passing through the group of Knights he gently put his hand on Marianne’s arm. Checking for any kind of a shock. “Are you okay” he whispered as he stepped up behind her. No doubt she was fine but it was always worth checking. Damn, That is the assassin? She looks like she is 10 years old.

@AtomicNut@harinezumikouken

Marianne Delacroix

Thankfully, Marianne was lucky in her decision. Having detected the young girl with the large sword from behind her, she thought to peel off from the chase to grab a few closeby items in a second attempt to trip up and stop the fleeing diminutive assassin. To possibly even follow up with a few erratic thrust attacks, hoping to catch any part of the assassin's body to slow them down even further. But, due to the swift actions of her comrades there was no need to give any further chase. A quick assessment of the environment and it was clear to see why, as the Court Mage herself sealed the entrance with a spell along with Dame Julianna standing nearby as guard. Sir Tiral had sealed the glass windows in thick frost and the little girl had taken the assassin to the ground when she abruptly stopped, possibly having realized the futility of it all. A glance to Captain Fanily and the Princess showed that the two were still safe under another Iron Rose's protective barrier both magical and physical. As the other Iron Roses surrounded the assassin, Marianne was the first to step up to the tiny thing. Ignoring Sir Garrett's concern for her wellbeing.

With a firm hand and still blissfully unaware of whom she was handling, Marianne pulled the little girl off of the assassin and immediately got to work. The very first thing she did was to remove any head and face covering of the assassin to reveal their identity. The second thing Marianne did was conduct a hasty pat down and search of the assassin's body, inspecting and digging through every part of the assassin's clothing. Anything Marianne found she set aside carefully on the ground away from them. Once satisfied with her search, Marianne got a bit rough. Not exactly caring how she would seem to everyone else or to the nobles, but she wasn't intentionally harmful to the assassin.

Grabbing at the assassin's head and pressing it aside the ground, Marianne knelt atop their body and applied all her weight onto the assassin's back to prevent them from attempting another escape or any other potentially dangerous action.
"Who are you!? What is your name!?"
With her free hand, Marianne pressed the tip of her concealable-sword at the nape of the assassin's neck.
Ready to execute and strike if necessary.
"Who do you work for!? For what reason did you make an attempt at an innocent's life!?"
Marianne's voice boomed surprisingly loud, echoing through the chambers as she interrogated the captive.
"Answer me!"

Julianna had been prepared to intercept the assassin to the best of her ability when, the assassin just suddenly gave up. Julianna stopped her chant and let the religious fervor subside and looked incredulously at the assassin in despair. There was no way the assassin would stop just because of one knight in a dress blocking her way, taking a look behind her, it was easy to see why, a magical barrier had formed to block the exit.

Then Tyaethe tackled the assassin and rammed into the barrier, making Julianna have to skirt out of the way. Why was it whenever she seemed to do something smart and logical that something else always seemed to come in and steal her thunder. It was hard to get ahead when magic and undead were afoot. Well, minor complaints aside it was time to see just who the assassin was.

She was small, just over 3 feet tall, had pale skin and red eyes, meaning that unless she was a very unfortunate child there was one other very obvious identity. As she came to her conclusion, her father and brothers had caught up with the chasing knights and assassin.

"Well, it seems that we have here a Nem assassin." Seeing as there was no longer any threat from this assassin, Theodore put his thin sword back in his cane and glared down at the diminutive killer. "Sons, go check the area for any other filth while the knights deal with this one. I'll stay here and see what information they can get out of this pin prick." With a nod the two young men were gone.

Julianna kept her dagger ready just in case though it looked like all the fight had gone out of the would-be-killer. The main questions were who would hire such an assassin and why? For someone to have procured a Nem assassin they had to have some good connections, probably a good bit of money too. Julianna considered trying to get information out of the assassin herself but interrogation was not exactly her area of expertise. She could spin a good yarn and glean information from idle chatter, manipulate and the like but that was more of a subtle art, interrogation required a more hands on approach most of the time.

Thankfully it was not up to her as a clearly upset Marianne Delacroix set herself upon the assassin after ripping the undead knight away from her. She was quite brutal in her technique.

Julianna found herself making a mental note of Marianne's fiery temper and how it would probably be best to avoid it if at all possible. Thankfully it was being put to some good use right now and hopefully would be gone by the time the interrogation was through.

The assassin was entirely unresistant. She didn't attempt to resist as her body was searched, and the bolts for her crossbow were removed from within her clothing. She didn't attempt to stop the knight from removing the covering over her head, exposing her soft-featured, pale face to the world. Of course, just as had been stated, the diminutive killer was a Nem. There was no mistaking her for anything else. Her long, black hair fell over her back as her hood was removed, though a scarf was wrapped around her neck. A rather large number of knives, too, were removed from her clothing, some made for throwing and others for wielding normally. Though a few seemed more like a shortsword then a knife to such a small individual.

Throughout it all, the assassin didn't attempt to resist whatsoever. After all, what was the point?

Even as she hit the ground, the knight over her, kneeling down on her, the assassin didn't make a sound. It hurt, of course, but, well... she'd failed. She felt the tip of the sword against her neck, and realized that from this position, she couldn't show it to the knight who was interrogating her. The assassin realized that she may very well be about to die because of this.

She shut her eyes. Given how badly she had failed, perhaps she deserved it.

And still, the assassin didn't make a sound. In fact, she hadn't made a single sound, aside from the sound of her breathing, since she'd first appeared...

Marianne Delacroix

Marianne grew frustrated, gritting her teeth as once again her mana leaked from her body and manifested as fearsome crackling arcs of electricity. A few stray arcs lashing out at even her Iron Rose comrades if they thought to get too close, some of the arcs biting and snapping at the assassin from where Marianne touched her. She thought for a moment to take advantage of the auxilary side-effect of her uncontrolled mana fissuring to electrocute the assassin on the spot and incapacitate her for later interrogation, but a small voice within her mind reasoned against it. Blinking, Marianne waited for a response.

And waited.

And waited...

Yet nothing.

"Why?
She thought to herself.

Why would someone, caught in a situation such as this with death eminently looming, not speak up? There was no hope in Marianne's mind for someone to escape from this, so why not preserve one's life and wellbeing. What could possibly be so important to protect and take with you to the grave? Why not plead and beg for forgiveness? Marianne paused for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. There was something wrong about this situation, and Marianne was not about to simply kill such a child-like person without investigating further. Eyes falling upon the scarf that the 'Nem' assassin wore 'round her neck, she stared at it for but a second. Thinking to how the Nem reacted when Marianne pressed the tip of her blade against the nape of her neck, she obviously feared death. Such a strike at that location assuredly spelled death for anyone, so the reaction wasn't completely out of the ordinary. But something about it struck her as odd.

Moving her hand from off the Nem's head, Marianne grabbed the girl's chin and turned her so that she could get a better look at her face. With surprising strength, Marianne tightly gripped the girl's jaw and applied pressure to force the girl's mouth open. Something told her to check the inside of the assassin's mouth. For what, she didn't know. Marianne didn't know what she was quite looking for but, after checking Marianne grabbed at the scarf that was wrapped around the Nem assassin's neck and pulled it off. She had to be sure of everything.

The nem assassin could feel the electricity sparking above her... and yet not a sound came from her. Indeed, she only opened her large, crimson eyes when the knight rolled her over, grasping her jaw firmly and forcing it open. Inside, there was a set of normal, white teeth, and a fairly average tongue, what could be expected from any humanoid race.

It was when the scarf around her neck was removed that anything seemed out of the ordinary. There was a horrible, ugly scary running across it. It was certainly an old wound, looking to have happened many, many years ago. It didn't take a genius to understand just why the assassin hadn't responded to any questioning. It wasn't that she was unwilling, it was that her ability to do so had been taken away a long, long time ago.

Someone had cut her throat open and taken out her voice box.

Tyaethe, rubbing at the sore spot in her back where it had collided first with the unyielding barrier, dithered a little in actually getting to where the failed assassin was being interrogated. Finding hat her sword was left fortunately untouched, the girl placed it back in position and leaned around to look at the nem and see why everyone was having such difficulty getting speech out of her.

The ugly neck scar actually got the white-haired paladin to flinch. Who the hell would do something like that? If you really wanted to stop someone from speaking, there were any number of methods less likely to cause them to suffocate and get the intended result. But if she couldn't speak, then they'd need to get something for her to write on... provided the nem was actually literate in the first place.

This was a ball and balls were not, as a rule, equipped with vast stores of writing equipment. There were a lot of napkins, however...

"If you can write, use these whilst someone gets parchment," the knight stated, rejoining the group with seemingly half the fabric in the room and a tureen of some... lurid orange sauce. She also seemed to have grabbed as many stick-like foods as possible, including an entire carrot, some sort of bread product, and celery.

Marianne stared into the assassin's eyes and examined her face. Her eyes flitting to the scar the girl sported across her neck every so often. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak, it was that she couldn't.

For some reason, Marianne took pity on the girl. Her heart too soft, feeling for the poor thing. But they still needed information. If the assassin couldn't divulge anything, Marianne might as well behead her now.

"Can you understand me?"
Marianne began a different line of questioning. Her expression soft and voice quiet as she spoke.
"If you can, then I want you to nod for yes. Shake your head for no."
Marianne watched carefully for the girl's answer to her next questions, her electric aura slowly dying down.
"Did someone force you to do this? Are you able to read and write? Are you willing to cooperate with us?"

Sult looked at Garret, her arms hugging the sculpture of meat that was his arm even tighter, as she nodded sagely. "...okay..." She said sheepisly. Perhaps too sheepishly for Sult, as she took the knife, and folding up her skirt, undid her grip and began pacing towards Fanilly, eyes peeled at whatever seemed out of place. Mannerisms, sights, and hidden hands. It took little time to reach her fable captain, as she gripped her dagger tightly. "Captain, it's good to see you safe. As...well as you, your highness." Sult added, making a deferent nod to the princess.

She hoped that the event had not soured the princess humour. Sult gulped. She had never hoped to see her again, but now her duty towards her captain...could make her past caught up.

Meanwhile, another figure had crept up in the back of the knight assembly, his black armor oddly making no noise as his silent, deathly cold gauntlet touched Julianna's shoulder ever so slightly, the faint smell of iron and chilly nature of the armor giving a sharp sensation on the Silvern Dame.

"Sad, isn't it, my fair dame? I have heard tales, of the men who wield knives at the night...that to ensure certain assasins do not talk when caught or defeated..." He paused.

"They are mutilated either in the throat or the tongue, so they might never speak again." Nero smirked. "How fortunate your fellow dame Delacroix and the deceptively exquisite Immortal caught on quickly, else it might have been quite the embarrassment..."

It was at this point that the knight leant forward, and whispered words into the Silvern heir. "Truly a pity..." He laconically said, letting the inflection convey his intention. He had seen the stare that Julianna had given to her peers.

It was very much like his own stare towards the favoritism Sult once had...
@Iceheart

Gillian didn’t bother lowering his sword as the assassin was brought down. He was busy with other things, his eyes icy daggers on any person coming to close to the iron ring of knights surrounding the princess, the royal guard especially. They were still a potential threat, and the nobles…Some might be genuinely concerned, wanting to comfort the princess after the attack, but he was in no mood to risk that. They could send their letters of deepest sympathies and praises of her bravery later.

Already he was racking his brain, trying to remember who Endril was and his reputation. A military coup was not out of the question, the Red Flag War was not that long ago. The glory and sacrifice of orders other than the iron knights could have easily been forgotten in favor of hailing the Iron Rose. He could easily see a disgruntled general deciding they deserved better than playing second banana to them, nor could he much blame them. Though, such acts would need a benefactor. No order, not even the Iron Roses, could finance a civil war on their own and Phoren, though mired in public loathing now, was not without those who privately held him in the deepest of sympathies.

His mind raced with possibilities, the sudden realization he’d likely not return to the outskirts of society anytime soon setting in. He takes a deep breath, calming himself. ”No. Take a step back. A Guard-captain letting slip rumor of bandits isn’t in and of itself incriminating. If anything, the princess might have inquired after the news of her own accord.” He thinks, the hostility in his stance easing up for a moment. This could easily be a play by a neighboring kingdom, demoralizing the population by killing a much beloved prospective ruler. Him assuming there had to be a traitor and pushing for a full blow witch hunt on a hunch could be just as damning for Thaln.

“Speaking of much beloved rulers…” He says, eyes turning on the captain and the stunned princess. “Fanlily. I think it best we have the royal guard clear the party. We’ve a prisoner to interrogate…” He says, watching as Marianne handled the small attacker. Normally he’d be annoyed with her soft heartedness, but right now was an exception. The nem had always…disturbed him. Looked too much like children, and he couldn’t say he’d be much harsher than the electrified knight. “…(nothing that small should be taking a life)…” He grumbles, distracted for a moment. “..and it’ll be easier for us to ensure her highness’s safety with them out of our way. Atleast until her family returns. ” He didn’t clarify if he meant the nobles or the guards.

Julianna got an sudden chill down her spine when the guantlet touched her shoulder. Considering their situation, Nero was lucky Julianna didn't stab him with her weapon. What an incredibly rude thing to do and stupid thing to do during a crisis, even if it appeared to be over. Thankfully for Nero, Julianna was able to realize just who it was.

Julianna didn't respond right away and let Nero do what he wanted. Nero was scorpion, shiny, armored, and full of poison. He was also very observant and his little jab at her hit home rather quickly, but of course she wasn't going to go along with it.

"What matters is that we have caught the immediate threat and that we know whoever is behind this attack is of the extremely cautious sort. No doubt it will be very hard to glean any useful information out of the assailant." That was certainly true, with an attack who could not even speak who had to know how to ask the right questions to get any useful information, also if the killer was illiterate as well it would be even more of a challenge.

All that being said, she now had a nasty hand on her shoulder, did the man have to leave his gauntlet on? Yes they were still in a potentially hostile situation but having a gauntlet on your shoulder was creepy and uncomfortable in more ways than one. Thankfully she had just the thing to take care of the situation.

"Ah yes that reminds me Sir Nero, have you had the pleasure of meeting my father, Marquis Silvern?" Julianna smiled put an open palm toward the large man now standing next to them. There was never anything quite so intimidating as a father who looked like you were assaulting their daughter. His smile seemed pleasant but his eyes were fixed on the offending gauntlet.
@AtomicNut

Well, she'd missed, but... At least someone had managed to catch the assassin. Getting to her feet and dusting down the front of that garish collection of frills her mother had made her wear, she joined the knights who had surrounded the Nem, fully ready to let her have it...

...And then she noticed the scars on her neck, and her inability to speak. Surely, this poor thing had been forced into this... Surely, whoever had done this to her was the true villain, the one truly deserving the fiery wrath that had been boiling inside her since the princess had been attacked.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as the undead knight tried to get the assassin to write on a napkin. Without wasting a breath, she stomped off to someone who she knew would have something to write with...

Her father.

Naturally, a big event like this filled with nobles was an excellent opportunity for him to negotiate new trade contracts and expand his business. And whilst it was the dwarven way to inscribe such agreements upon stone or metal (thus creating a lasting, binding contract)... Well, Thaln wasn't exactly dwarvish lands, and sometimes even the most traditionalist of races had to compromise. After a short exchange with him, Martina soon returned to the Nem, slamming a roll of parchment, a quill and an ink well in front of the diminuitive assassin.

"If you can write, write." The scowl etched across her face burned with barely contained fury. "Tell us who did this to you, who made you go after the princess, and we assure you... Our vengeance shall be swift and merciless."

The assassin stared in blank confusion, momentarily taken out of her limp acceptance of everything that was done to her, when the little girl retrieved napkins and food. That, certainly, was difficult to understand for the girl. But she understood when parchment was spoken of. As the girl who had pinned her to the ground asked her questions...

For the first, the nem nodded. She nodded to the second, as well. To the third, she hesitated.... and as her mind seemed to wander, an expression of anger came to her face. Yes, she'd failed, but if she hadn't...!

With trembling hands, she snatched the paper away from the taller girl, then the quill and inkwell. She'd tell them exactly what they'd done by stopping her assassination attempt. Then they'd understand.

As she wrote, the true hoplessness of the situation she'd found herself in sank in deeper and deeper.

When she raised the parchment up, there were furious tears in her crimson eyes.

You've killed my sister. And so have I.

---

Fanilly relaxed slightly when she saw the Assassin had been stopped. Good. She'd gotten stopped before she could leave the room, and she was unharmed by the looks of things. That meant they could figure out who was behind this. As Sir Gillian proposed getting everyone out of here, the short blonde nodded. It'd be easier for everyone involved.

It was about then that the head of the head of the royal guard approached. He was a tall man, in ornate armor, with a long poleaxe. He had quite the mustache.

"Your highness, are you okay?!" her called. The Princess nodded.

"I'm fine, the Iron Roses kept me safe," she said. While she looked like she had composed herself, Fanilly could hear her voice wavering. "The captain has a request for you, as well."

"The captain?" he looked around, before realizing the rather short Fanilly was directly in front of him. "What is it you request?"

Fanilly nodded. "I need your men to clear the hall out, to get every noble to a safe location. We'll keep the Princess safe."

The main hesitated. It was their duty... but... the Iron Roses were legends, of course, even lead but such a small girl... "... V... very well."

With that, he set about ordering the guards to clear the room. Fanilly glanced back at the others.

"I'm going to see the prisoner," she explained, "Keep the Princess safe, no matter what."

And with that, she began to approach the cluster of knights, and the defeated assassin. As she grew closer, her blue eyes widened at the sight of the ugly scars on the nem girl's throat. Just what had happened...? ... Regardless, they had to learn what was going on. That message she held up... they'd killed her sister? And she had as well?

... No. They'd find out what was going on regardless. There certainly hadn't been a second Nem here... So the message must have meant something else.

Tyaethe blushed when the parchment came out... who was she to know that there was someone actually carrying writing supplies around in a ball? It was far beyond the norm for someone to actually come to what was supposed to be a relaxed party and bring tools of their work. Instead, she munched idly on the bread whilst waiting for the nem to write out her message.

It definitely wasn't a pleasant one.

If they had both killed her sister then that meant the assassin was blackmailed to be here... and if they let news spread of a failed assassination, then that would remove any chance of preventing the gruesome punishment from being carried out. Swiftly, Tyaethe drew her sword again, slamming it into the ground for attention.

"To everyone outside of this room, bar the king and queen, the princess is dead. This is a matter within the remit of the Knights of the Iron Rose, and I will hold anyone spreading the truth responsible for manslaughter. Do you understand?" the paladin stated, hoping that her reputation would overcome her small stature. Nobody that she had been determined to protect had died, though once it had been close... if not for Elionne. This would be the same.

Gillian eyed the moustached guard as he retreated, though was relieved he seemed to back down to Fanlily’s inherited authority. He returns his sword to his scabbard, rubbing his eyes as he does so. Tonight was more stress than he’d care to have in a year. Mayon above willing it only aged him a few days, though considering tonight’s luck that seemed unlikely. “At this rate I’ll be grey by my thirties…” he grumbles to himself.
The princess it had it worse though she held up better than he’d expected. But even seasoned members of the order would be shaken after an attempt on their lives, and Gillian had no interest in testing the limits of the young woman. “Your highness…” He starts voice much softer than normal. “I think it best that we retire to somewhere quiet until things have calmed down. Do we,” He says, gesturing to himself, Ian, Christina and Sult, “have permission to escort you back to your quarters? Or would you feel more comfortable elsewhere?” He asks. Normally, he’d confine the noble to their quarters and ignore any protest. But given his earlier behavior, he doubt she’d respond well to such an act at the moment. And that aside, the girl looked as though she was well past due a chance to regain some control over the situation.