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Mary had almost stepped outside of her rooms when she realized something mildly unsettling. The massive bore howdah pistol that she had lent the Presbyter had been damaged. Not just damaged, but mangled in small ways as to make it unusable. The packing rod was missing, one of the strikers gone. The wood had been splintered along one side, in precisely the same place that the barrel was warped slightly inward. It looked as if it had been hooved mercilessly by a yak on one side. Mary sighed. The item was damaged in a way that simultaneously easy to miss at first glance and significantly less costly to replace as repair.

Ok, that could be rectified later. The weapon came as a pair; she usually only carried one. Now, in addition to an cutler, Mary would need to find a gunsmith. This was not ideal. Her finances were respectable for a Londoner, but finite. She switched out her gun for its twin and proceeded down to the stables to acquire her horse. Upon reaching the stables, Mary noticed that her white robe, her favorite one that got pelted with various rotten foodstuffs by the mob, was on the ground, in approximately the same place as she handed it off to the Nun. If she didn't know any better, Mary would have assumed that it was merely left there on the ground instead of accidentally dropped. She gathered the familiar cloth up, visibly confused and hurt at the strong possibility that the Sisters of St. Etheldreda's were intentionally snubbing her.

At least her horse was seen to. The lay folk of the Ely House were duty bound to serve the needs of anyone residing on the grounds, including oddities such as female Knights drawn from the Apostolic assigned to the parish, separate from the local ecclesiastic and cloistered Sisters. Her stallion, Cassius, was well taken care of. It was something. She mounted the noble animal and readied herself to exit the Church grounds proper, until a voice called out to her; an angry one, and one known to her. It was the Bishop.

"Dame Mary, while it is still Dame Mary within these walls, dismount your horse immediately and stable it. You aren't going anywhere."

The first vow she took was Obedience. She slipped from her great grey charger and submitted her presence for the Bishop. "Yes, Your Excellency." she said, giving the barest of curtsies. "How may I be of..."

Mary was cut off immediately. "You may start being of assistance to me by keeping your lips together and listening to me. First, you presume to give the Cloistered commands? Telling them to seal the gates and prepare for an attack? Ordering them about like your personal servants? I told them to leave your robe where it lay, Dame Mary, in hopes that you would learn better self-reliance and humility!"

Excellency, I apologize, I only thought to..."

"I know what you thought to, Dame. I will now explain something. Almost every Nun present in St. Etheldreda's is from London, or at least England, and believes the concept of a Woman Knight is ludicrous. Even more so a Venator, which in their estimation is on the same social level as a mercenary or an exorcist. Some of them don't even believe that you have the ability to Heal or any other, for that matter. So far as they are concerned, you are an unjustly elevated Sister to whom they give platitudes, until you earn otherwise. Now, I have to clean up your mess."

Mary was taken aback. This was not the way the situation was supposed to occur. As the only active Knight on the grounds, it was her responsibility to take command of any defenses, were the church to find itself in peril. A riot, very likely following her on account of the child she spared from the Ryne's curse, definitely qualified. Not that it mattered now, the Bishop was here. He had the authority to overrule any of Mary's imperatives, or just take over the defense of the Church. But the child! That was different. "Bishop Mansfield! What of the boy?"

"Yes, the boy. The boy you gave over to the Nuns while you ran off to dress for the Ball."

"Excellency, that was..." She was getting very annoyed at being cut off. Even by the Bishop.

"I know what it is. You are being summoned to Almack's to assist with their security efforts against the Soulless. Or for window dressing, or to stand about as a novelty for the rich young men in their cravats to giggle at. I know, your oath to the Order demands that you assist, unless you have extremely good reason not to. Consider that your new Ward might just be an extremely good reason, unless I order the Sisters to do what you asked of them. I will talk to them. You will stay within the walls of Ely until this gets sorted. Do you understand?"

Mary sighed. Of course he was right. She was taking liberties that a more seasoned Dame might wield. She was still fairly new here. "Of course, Your Excellency. I apologize. Please do what you can, and I shall accept any judgement you give on how my time should be spent this evening." Her head low, she removed her Knightly cloak and placed it within a saddlebag. She was still quite the imposing figure in her long cassock, gilt around the cuffs and collar, heavily armed. She took up her halberd in one hand, reins in the other, and began slowly leading Cassius back into the stables.

Bishop Mansfield did give her a courtesy, however. "Mary," he began, "I did retain your order to lock the gates. And the boy is an innocent. We are not in the habit of letting the Soulled innocent get murdered. I used to be an active Venator too, remember? We took the same oath." His voice softened with some amount of empathy. "We are not in a Catholic country, Dame Mary Hale. Outside of these walls you are a Sister. Even inside of these walls, you will have a hard fight winning the respect of these people. Trust me, I know. It will be so much harder for you, because of who you are. I cannot give them any excuse to plead favoritism."

"Perhaps you should contemplate this day in the Quadrangle. The boy is safe for now, and I will let you know when something changes. Go."

"Yes, Excellency." This was highly unusual for the Bishop. Usually he was extremely laid back and permissive. Not that Mary would have taken advantage of him, but being this confrontational? Something was off. Mary wanted to know what that was, but she was not going to press her luck with an already irritated staff. It took talent to anger everyone in a church at the same time, and the Apostolic wasn't even trying that hard today. Something was off.

Mary straightened her posture and walked quietly to the courtyard, planning on simple meditations involving a slow form with her halberd.

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“Thank you.” Mosi said with a huge grin as Fyror helped her board the coach. This was indeed faster for this task, but she was personally more liking walking or riding herself. There was just something she felt when riding that she wouldn't ever give up. If she didn't have to struggle with the streets and traffic, she'd spend all her time simply riding, but her on a horse was not the best thing her family wanted... Maybe she'd manage to convince them to arrange a trip somewhere far away sometime soon in the future.

“Hmmm, drive towards Brunswick Chapel of Ease to St. Maryle Bone , please.” Mosi chimed in after Fyror said for the driver to head towards the nearest Church. It was a good place to inform as any and she liked the name. It was funny!

“I understand.” She finally said to Fyror when he mentioned wanting to return to his family after this task. The desire to protect one's family was a great thing.” We shouldn't take too much time at the church and the coach can drive you to the inn soon enough afterwards.” Mosi nodded with pleased expression.” Give them best regards later when you reunite with them.”

She reached to one of her pockets to take out her smoking pipe, but halfway through, she stopped.' This is for later it seems.' She finally decided and rested her arm down again.

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As Millicent guided her to the second floor, Elizabeth's shouts continued to echo throughout the halls. Virginia spent no effort straining to hear the insults of her dear friend's step-mother. Her knowledge of the foul words Mrs. Wyndham selected to describe Virginia and the others was forced upon her, but Virginia allowed Elizabeth's remarks to fall upon deaf ears. As Virginia's own mother always said, Elizabeth's hatred meant Virginia was succeeding in winning the match. What that match was, of course, Lady Dywell never did quite explain.

"He is no trouble at the present moment, of course," Virginia agreed. "But I must confess, I have been thinking among similar lines. It is inconceivable that I should be there to guide my dear brother forever, and within a few months, I fear the earldom shall be thrust upon him in its entirety." There was a sad smile on Virginia's face. She never entertained the notion that her parents had perished--but with each passing day, it appeared that they would not return. And it would thus fall to her brother to become the next Earl of Dywell.

Virginia nodded, taking in Millicent's sad and heavy words. Her friend grieved for her father, both of them unaware as to whether or not death had gripped their loved ones. And with the state of affairs at the Wyndham Estate--namely, the Elizabeth conundrum--her friend was unlikely to find comfort. Trapped within the role of protector and domestic beauty, Millicent had little freedom, a fact that brought morose thoughts to Virginia's own mind. Millicent reminded her of a phoenix, shut inside of a cage, and unable to roam freely.

"I insist you and your sisters come to Wenwynith Manor," Virginia offered, sitting on Millicent's bed. "Or if it is more convenient, arrangements can be made at the townhouse as well. You must tire of your step-mother's airs, among other things." Her eyes darted towards the mark on Millicent's cheek. Those words, Virginia thought, were perhaps best left unsaid, but they hanged there in the silence.

Virginia smiled slightly at Millicent's offer for assistance. "They have requested me to peer into the city, and attempt to detect any soulless that are about. Needless to say, with the affair in the park, it appears one has already been found. It makes little difference to me where I perform sokw, and I do much prefer to ensure the safety of my dear friend to those honorable peers attending Almack's this evening." And if Millicent were to give her consent and approval, Virginia would lie herself down on Millicent's bed, and begin to use her skill to search for any threats lurking within the city.

Millicent looked away thoughtfully for a moment before rising from her place and wandering over towards the window of her room, drawing back the curtains with her fingers and peering out to the gardens and stables below. The sun shining in softly brought to life the flowers she had been given by Gerard to her earlier that morn. Pondering to herself the various options for Virginia's dear little brother before she came to a conclusion and let the drapery fall where it may. Lacing her fingers together she turned and looked over towards her best of friends.

"Then I would suggest that you make haste and whisk your brother off to parts otherly than here in England so that he may come into his own and train before the shutting of the door, forcing the Earldom on him. For if he leaves before any sad conclusions are drawn and titled is forced upon him they cannot force him back. The contracts transcend all Crowns and Borders for the safety of the Soulled. He would be granted time to finish his training, wherever you choose, and you would be given temporary Regency over his lands and title until his return. While I would not wish the titles on any, I know you are far more capable than a child, far more than most any man that currently holds one. Yes, send him now, before it is too late."

Millicents words were solemn but kind as she spoke before she hurried over towards Virginia and knelt before her, taking the pale woman's hands in her own, running her fingers over her skin as she chuckled to herself for unknown reasons. Looking back up she smiled at Lady Crypt as she reached up and brushed back some of her light golden locks. "I can secure a ship for his travels at your earliest convenience."

Letting out a slow breath she rose and released Virginia's hands before stepping away from her, shaking her head as her hand covered her mouth. The offer to leave the manor and go elsewhere was tempting, to get her sisters away from Elizabeth even more so but in the end she knew she could not. "She is my mother. For the sake of my father I must remain and protect her as fervently as I would him. I cannot turn my back on his trust and confidence no matter the short comings she may possess."

Miss Wyndham would have loved to leave, to have a life of her own but she had so much she still needed to do, things she was bound by her heart and her mind to do. Protect her sisters, protect her step-mother, ensure the safety as best she could of those that worked for her family in the home and further away at the country estate, to continue to look out for her fathers business interests. To ensure the family carried on. Her wants and needs were secondary to all else in this life.

Biting her bottom lip for a more than a moment before letting it slip away and shaking off the childish dreams of anything more for herself in this life at this point she turned back to Virginia and motioned for her to use her own bed as she needed. "Please, do what you need. I will see that you are protected, none shall harm you without first having to come through me," she said as she took a seat at her vanity. Pulling the cloth of her gown to the side where it slit high along her waist she pulled her dagger from its sheath on her thigh. She would not let anything harm Virginia while she still drew breath.

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Fyror was pleased when Jeanette so gratefully accepted his help boarding the coach, and he easily returned her smile with one of his own. Apparently she had a specific church in mind that she wanted to inform about the Cargast attack in Hyde Park: Brunswick Chapel of Ease to St. Maryle Bone. He entered the hackney coach once she was safely inside. He took the seat across from her as the coach door was shut. They were soon on their way to the nearby church.

His gaze was soft as he looked at Jeanette, and he listened attentively to what she had to say. “Thank you for understanding. With the sudden presence of the Soulless in this city, I am truthfully afraid to leave them for too long. My brother is a skilled solider, but fighting humans and fighting the Soulless are on two entirely different spectrums. Nevertheless, I do not regret staying by your side and ensuring your safety,” he replied. Truthfully, he found that he quite enjoyed her company. To have someone who viewed and treated him as an equal rather than inferior was refreshing to say the least. He looked out the coach window for a moment, his gaze taking in the passing terrain.

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Gerard glanced at Nathan, "That she is." smiling timidly at the gentleman's compliment of Wendy. It's not that often he engages in casual scenarios such as this with the upper class men. Despite being a little reserved, Gerard indulged himself to Mr. Darcy's questions, not because he's required to like in a usual business like relationship he had with the likes him. This was somehow refreshing.

"Aye, had her since I first started working for Mr. Wyndham. "He said meekly, retracting his glance to Nathan to regularly scope for any sudden dangers whilst having a casual conversation. "Had to get her away from the old barkeep who wasn't treating her well. I didnt plan on keeping her at first. But before I even realize, I grew a soft spot for the tiny pup. " his face drew a gentle smile at the fond memories he had with Wendy. He always did have a small spot for animals."You have any furry companions of your own?" He proceeds with the conversation in the midst of the journey, his eyes sheepishly glancing back at the upper class man, and to the road ahead.

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Truthfully, the thought of possessing a title did not disturb Virginia greatly. She had been raised to assume the earldom, her path only altered by the arrival of her brother. And while she bore him no ill will and did not desire a title, she was aware of its implications. Men would have ever the more of an incentive to take her as an equal. The penchant for disrespect that many a British gentlemen possessed would slip away ever so slightly. No, her true concern was with the health of her brother. If James were to perish, Virginia would be beside herself.

Truthfully, the largest detriment of the regency would be the increased attraction of suitors. Alfred had become quite adept at chasing them away, and if that approach was unsuccessful, the revelation of her many interests would disturb the rest. But what did she truly desire in life? That thought continued to elude Virginia, constantly evading any attempts to answer it. Perhaps that was what she searched for in life--an answer as to what she wished to obtain.

"Thank you for your counsel," Virginia replied, smiling slightly at Millicent kneeled. Her dear friend was most beautiful and attractive, yet Virginia felt little romantic inclination to Millicent Wyndham--a fact that was most fortunate, as Millicent was her closest friend. She giggled slightly along with Millicent, noticing the contrast in their skin tones. Her friend dwelled in the light of day--and she, she dwelled in the darkness of night.

"I understand," Virginia nodded, hearing Millicent's polite rejection of her offer. "Do know that you will always be welcome, dear Millicent, if you should ever wish for a moment's respite." And as her dear friend pulled the dagger and allowed the use of the bed, Virginia rested her body, mirroring the pose of a corpse in a casket. Sokw was a dangerous affair, and for this particular task, Virginia decided to focus on ensuring her friend's protection first. It would allow her to use Chankoowashtay instead.

And so, she shut her eyes, and began to project her mind into the between using Chankoowashtay.

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"Heathens! Hiding among heathens and their... their strawberries, like some Roman... heathen!"

Obviously, the good Reverend was less than thrilled at his accommodations. She could hear him continuing to mutter that which was obviously his favorite word, the one which snuck into almost every conversation that she had with the man. They had many such conversations in the recent past; like it or not they were colleagues, after a fashion. Both trained in places of spiritual authority. Both living symbols of their faith. Further, both with differing but complementary skill sets. She didn't like the man very much, any more than he liked Mary. It did give her some concern that he habitually misused his favorite slander, though. They were both monotheists and followers of the One True God. "Heathen" just wasn't appropriate.

From Mary's perspective, Clerc's people turned their backs on Vatican authority. His loyalty was to the Crown as much as the Lord. This distinction meant that they would never really be anything more than allies, and allies in hard times only. An angry mob of average citizens of the realm (that they couldn't actually engage physically without massive repercussion) might count. For the meantime, it served well enough for the pair to take refuge at St. Etheldreda's.

The visiting Presbyter was offered the culinary hospitality of the Church; light stew and brown bread, if the smells from the kitchens earlier were any indication. Also, the opportunity to clean up the mess that had formed all over him, thanks to the efforts of the mob. Mary declined. She had already changed and had no thoughts of food at the moment. Instead, she decided to do as the Bishop suggested and spend some time in contemplation in the courtyard. For Mary, contemplation involved controlled breathing in a low stance, moving her halberd around her in slow, practiced drills designed to reinforce her training with the Swiss Guard.

She had practiced this routine many, many times before. Her footwork was flawless, her attacks flowing and powerful. It gave her an opportunity to listen to the relative quiet of the Church. Or at least, what should have been relative quiet. Instead, the people of St. Etheldreda's were milling about, whispers spreading about the "mob" outside and the boy Mary had brought in. Eyes were on her, she could tell. But she kept on working her routine. Curiously, walking along the archways were a trio of more venerable Nuns speaking about something other than the fiasco with Mary and their temporary ward. Mary tuned her senses upon them, trying to catch the moving conversation.

Was eavesdropping something to confess and atone for later on? Or was this an act of vigilance on the part of the young Venator? She preferred vigilance. But she'd likely confess to the Bishop later on, anyway.

As best she could tell (taken from what snatches of conversation she heard clearly), a woman with blonde hair had arrived unannounced, prior to the church going on lockdown. After having a word with the Bishop, he had cleared the chapel and allowed this mystery woman private access for prayer in solitude. Needless to say, this was highly irregular. Mary continued her practice until the Nuns were out of sight, then wrapped things up in lieu of a quick walk.

The entrance to chapel was just around the corner from the Quadrangle, just out of Mary's sight by mere steps. It would be nothing to give a quick check to see what the fuss was about. Surely the cloistered women of St. Etheldreda's knew, with this being one of two Catholic churches anywhere nearby, any fellow Papist traveling through London might likely visit. So what made this woman special enough to warrant gossip?

Mary took a second to compose herself, allowing a visage of serenity to blanket her features. She smoothed her black, gilt cassock and used her Swiss halberd as a walking staff, striding up to the chapel entrance nearest the Quadrangle. To Mary's surprise, it was guarded by two men in the green and red double breasted uniforms of Imperial Russia. Now this was irregular. Granted, she had been gone for a bit, but Bishop Mansfield should have informed her of a military presence inside of her assigned Church immediately. She was the one who pledged a Knightly Order of the Papacy, and given assignment to this location. Even if the cloistered Sisters paid her no mind, the Bishop should have.

Mary decided to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, for now. Perhaps His Excellency had forgotten in the hustle of the moment. Or perhaps suggesting that she contemplate quietly in a place where the information would make itself available to her was his way of letting her know. Or it could just be a coincidence and Mary should seriously reconsider the nature of her assignment here. Between Nuns ignoring their oath of Obedience and the Bishop's memory lapse... well, benefit of the doubt. Mary had her own Oath to keep.

The young Apostolic walked confidently up to the soldiery at the interior doors, stopping outside of striking range. In a polite voice, she greeted the Church's visitors. "Good afternoon, sirs. I am Sister Mary Hale, Venator of the Order of St. Sylvester and resident Dame here at Ely." She paused briefly, just to see if they were going to willing to respond in any way. "The doors behind you are the only unblocked path to the chapel undercroft at this time. Are you here to prevent my entry?" She expected a possible linguistic barrier. While she didn't speak Russian, Mary was fluent in other languages and was ready to repeat herself, if needed.

It was likely paranoia, but Mary felt compelled to examine these men through the intuitive training of Tanter, extending her senses to ascertain their status among the Souled.

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Well they arrived to the chapel easy and uneventfully enough that Mosi was pleased with it. She smiled and jumped out of the hackney almost like an animal that wanted out. A big smile was on her face as her feet landed on the ground and Mosi nodded to herself before turning to the hackney driver.” We will return in a little, shouldn't take too long and if it does, I will come to inform you.” She said with a smile and friendly voice as she turned to Fyror.

“It's a beautiful building. I like to come around once in a while just to enjoy the sights. Sadly nothing beats the beauty of the wild nature back in the colonies.” She explained and looked at the entrance. The sound of organ being played and the choir signified there were people inside! Great!” Shall we?” She asked and headed towards the entrance without care in the world. What people would think of her entering so brazen into the god's home was of no concern of her despite being a 'bloody heathen'.

“With this going on, it should be too hard to locate priests to inform about the attack.” She said and looked at Fyror. The man would make a fine crusader actually... like the ones you read about in books. She definitely had to somehow make him get into a full plate armor sometime.

With that thought out her head, she focused on locating a priest to talk to once they enter.

Millicent smiled gratefully towards Virginia. She knew the woman, as strange as she could be, always meant well. If her sisters were already married off to people that she trusted she might have taken her up on her offer and hired extra guards for her step mother. If only she could find someone daft enough to get her step mother to marry should it come that her father would never return. No, she mustn't think of things such as that. Her father would return and everything would go back to normal. Then she would be free to let her guard down some. Of course she would always look after her family but at least if her father was there she wouldn't have to feel like a she had to be on watch every moment of every day.

"Oh father..." she whispered to herself as Virginia went into her trance. Shaking off the mind wandering Millicent kept vigilant to the woman's body and the surroundings. She knew that Virginia was helpless right then and even though they were in her personal home with the fact that at least one Soulless was within the Jericho made her nerves stand on end. She had to watch over yet another but this one did not make her feel as if she was a plague to be around but an actual help. Granted the Chankoowashtay did not leave Virginia immobile, should an attack occur Millicent could give Virginia one word directions that her body would be able to pull off. Hide, duck, run. Though it came with its draw back, if Millicent told her to run where she would run was anyones guess and she wouldn't stop until told too. She could end up anywhere. It was dangerous. Seeing her friend there, it made her feel warm inside that she should trust her enough to put her safety in Millicent's hands.

Miss Wyndham was grateful for the thick walls and sturdy construction of the manor. The loud mouth of her mother was muffled and could be ignored well enough. Granted it became louder when Abigail came in to do her duties until the door was closed again. Abigail knew better than to speak during this time while Millicent watched over Virginia and got to work on the usual dusting and cleaning, careful not to disturb the two. Abigail was a good girl and in a way Millicent envied her. The poor, while destitute, if lucky could find a way in life that she would be never privied to, one to chose who they were to be with without worry of titles, events, or the gossip of the ton. It was a freedom that she was afraid she would never know because so few women in her place ever did.

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Fyror and Jeanette’s ride to the Brunswick Chapel of Ease to St. Maryle Bone was slowed by the stream of people fleeing Hyde Park. They scattered across the dirt roads as they most likely headed for the so called safety of their homes. Truthfully, Fyror found it to be a misguided idea that the place you hold most dear is the safest place to be. He knew all too well that tragedy has a notorious habit of disrupting the moments you feel the safest and happiest. He bared the price of that knowledge on his mangled face.

Within a few minutes, the hackney coach arrived at their destination. They came to a stop in front of the moderately size white chapel. The sounds of an organ being played and a choir singing filled the air as the coach door was opened. Fyror was about to exit the coach and lend Jeanette a hand getting out, but she quickly fled the confines of the coach before he could. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. What was that about? Surely, it had nothing to do with his presence. He exited the coach soon after her. He thanked the coach driver before turning back to Jeanette as she spoke. He smiled at her comment. “Certainly. Lead the way Miss Crane,” he added and gestured towards the church.

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The process of chankoowashtay has always interested Virginia. One might venture to say she had been obsessed with it, the only reason that she trained herself in both it and sokw. As she closed her eyes and entered the between, Virginia opened her mind's eye. Free of her body, she glided practically, able to observe as she wished. Not many could claim to have seen their own still form, or notice the reactions of a dear friend as they drifted away. But now was not the time for such pleasantries. She had a vow to her dear friend to attend to--the insurance of the protection of the Wyndham Estate.

As her mind drifted, she took in the scene at Hyde Park. The constables were questioning as to the whereabouts of the corpse, with frightened ladies and gents fleeing from the area. In Virginia's experience, it was not unusual for the constables of London to be absolutely baffled. However, that was not what caught her attention. She drifted towards the edge of the park, noting the dark fog vacating the premises. As far as she could venture, it was going in the way of Almack's--unfortunately, out of the range of the far safer trance.

But she glimpsed something else quite peculiar. She took a professional interest in the dead, attending every public hanging she could, and listening eagerly to tales of the soulless. Yet she had never quite noticed this before. A grey tint had attached itself to the corpse, almost like a smaller fog. Yet as they vacated the one mile mark, Virginia stopped. A switch in the middle would be draining, but most importantly, sokw was quite deadly.

And so, Virginia returned her mind to Wyndham Manor, and awoke herself from the trance. "My dear friend, there is going to be a tragedy at Almack's tonight," Virginia declared. "There is something peculiar about the corpse of the departed woman as well. Yet it exceeds the range of chankoowashtay. I must turn to sokw. And if I do not return, I have given Alfred instructions to allow you to become James' guardian, if you wish." Her tone had an air of practicality to it, and without waiting more than another minute, Virginia reentered a trance, yet this time, she selected sokw.

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There was hesitation on the part of the green-coated guardsmen, possibly confusion on their part. This was a young lady in a formal cassock carrying a Swiss halberd, and a formidable looking hand cannon, introducing herself with earned title. It didn't seem proper. If she were speaking falsely and caught by the officials of the Ely Palace, she could look forward to highly unpleasant actions taken upon her as a result. They might have even gleaned a sense of impending justice when Bishop Mansfield turned the corner to view the scene unfolding.

The appearance of the Bishop was heartening to Mary. She had hoped that he was done handling the situation that was brought to their doors by herself and the Reverend Clerc, and was on his way to give her leave to pursue her duties. He could surmise the situation immediately; Mary looked to want inside the church, the guards were under orders to prevent anyone from doing so. He raised a hand and quelled the situation before it could come to hard words or harder blows.

"Sister Mary is an anointed Knight of God, elevated by Pope Pius VII and appointed to this church by the Grand Cross of her Order. She is a valued ally to St. Etheldreda's, and is obligated to assist in the defense of all who are granted refuge here. Mary is of no threat to you, nor your charge."

Bishop Mansfield turned just a few degrees to indicate that he was addressing Mary, then continued. "You may enter, Mary. Remember your manners, we have an important guest." He motioned toward the interior doors, behind the guards.

"Certainly, Your Excellency. If I may be permitted, Excellency, has the other situation been resolved?"

"In a moment, Sister Mary. For now, attend to your duty in the Chapel."

The truth was that Mary didn't have need to be in the Chapel, nor the undercroft at that point in time. She merely wished to find out more about their visitors and continue with her day. If she didn't leave for Almack's before too long, she would have to send word declaring her absence. It also might be a slight upon the honor of her Order, unless she could declare a more pressing reason than providing security against the Soulless at a high-profile social gathering of Gentry and Peers, for which she was requested personally. However, as the Bishop had vouched for her and the Russian detail grudgingly stepped aside, she felt compelled to enter. It wasn't quite deception, but this was likely something else she would have to confess to Bishop Mansfield later. (Wait, he was involved... does she need to confess? Eh, probably.)

Mary quietly curtsied to the guards and slipped through the doors. As soon as she was in, the pair of green clad soldiers followed her. A voucher from the Bishop notwithstanding, they apparently believed there was a need to keep an eye on her.

The chapel was noticeably darker than the grounds outside, though the ever present candles common to Catholic ceremony assisted with this, giving the illumination a soft, orange note. In front of the altar knelt a woman, dressed in very opulent attire. Expensive, ornate clothing, obviously reserved for not only the richest, but most highly socially placed of persons. She was seemingly deep in prayer, appearing not to notice Mary's entrance into the Chapel proper behind her.

After a quiet moment, she rose. Slowly, gracefully, almost as a spirit rising from the earth, completely unencumbered by the complexities of her layered and long costuming. For another moment, she stood motionless. Then she turned, revealing an impossibly slender lady with pale skin, ice blue eyes, dusty lips, and squared jaw - the very image of Russian Aristocracy. This was doubtlessly a Lady of importance, and from the Imperial Russian Court, though her exact identity was a mystery to Mary. She did have the forethought to assense the woman under the scrutiny of Tanter, just to follow up on her similar treatment of the guards a minute ago.

It was difficult to curtsy correctly to a noblewoman while carrying a polearm. The lengthy of it made placing one's hands in the proper place cumbersome. This was perhaps why men preferred to bow. Mary supposed she should start doing that, be it a very unfeminine practice. But then again, so was openly wearing a howdah pistol and carrying a halberd. Either way, she left the one hand on her weapon, using it as subtle balance as she performed the best one-handed curtsy possible. "My Lady," she began in English, "I apologize if I have interrupted your supplications to our Lord. I am Mary Hale, resident Dame here at the Ely Palace." She paused briefly to see if she needed to attempt dialogue in a different language. The nobility was fond of teaching several languages to highly placed, but there was no guarantee that English was in the visitor's skill set. Provided they could communicate effectively, Mary continued.

"I ordinarily come through here to practice in the dark of the undercroft; it keeps my ability to blindfight honed. But I was wondering if you would mind so much if I joined you in prayer, my Lady."

The travel to Saint Peter's was steady and resolute, with the few exceptions of cordial small talk between the men. Gerard found himself opening up a little bit to the gentleman, although collected as always throughout the journey, Mr.Darcy takes time to politely respond and genuinely listen to the Irishman's idle talks. And Nathan would speak fondly of Ikko, his house cat when Gerard asked him about it. Both of them share a respectable, casual conversation at the duration of their travel to St. Peter's, the dead body dangling with them wasn't much of a bother on the current mood.

People would give them odd looks as they travel with the dead body in tow. Women would cover their faces, look away in disgust at the morbid sight. They'd drag their children away to their vicinity. They could have been at the recent chaos, or heard word of it at least enough to give them terrified and worried looks at whatever comes after this. Gerard himself is. He would not want to wish whatever evil happened to this woman on anyone, and with this mere action that he is fulfilling right now, he hopes it would actually make some good relevance, making the streets safe from the soulless.

It will take a while but they would finally reach St Peter's, they can already see the magnificent establishment from a distance as they grew closer and closer to their destination.

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As Mosi and Fyror made their way into the church, Mosi couldn't help, but feel impressed by the interior of the building. While not really following the religion, it didn't mean she didn't like the artistic expressions of it. The holy symbols, the images and even the architecture itself. Everything summed made for a fine type of art that she enjoyed looking, to the point she'd probably annoy clergy by starting to climb up places to get a close look to the ceiling.

Inside the Church as usual her first reaction was to do a glancing look from the ceiling towards the alter and then around the walls of the church's main hall. She was smiling as she slowly made her way down the path between the two lines of benches on the either side. There were people praying, the clergy and a man who immediately got Jeanette's attention by looking different, but still seeming like he works at the church.

Making a sharp turn she walked towards him with a smile.” Excuse me, I need help with something...” She said with a smile.” I was wondering if you could tell me to whom I have to talk about reporting... a Soulless sighting of a Cargast...” She said the last part with very low voice and form next to him so only he could hear her. There was no need to cause possible panic after all.

Elizaveta eyed the woman before her speaking to her for a moment, one could not tel if she could understand her or not. Turning to fully face her she still did not say anything, letting her eyes drift from Mary to those watching over her for a moment before looking back at Mary. Elizaveta stepped gracefully towards the nun, her eyes drifting slowly over her as she began to walk around her. Seemingly to take in everything that was the woman before her. A look that could almost be taken as judgemental crossing her features, or was it something else? One could not be sure with the way Elizaveta carried herself.

Finally she stopped before Mary and a smile broke over her features, coming to her dusty rose lips. "It is a most grand pleasure to meet you Dame Mary Hale. I vas told tale of your travels vhislt I vas in passing through your magnificent of cities on my journey to London. His Holiness vas a most cordial during my visit even despite his declining health. Prayers be with him that he is vith the church for many years to come," she said in a soft dove like coo of a voice but yet it radiated with resounding distinction of authority when she spoke despite the thick Russian accent.

"Please forgive my rudeness, such a long journey from my homelands has rendered me mannerless it does seem. Please allov me to introduce myself. I am Elizaveta Romanova," she said bowing her head slightly as she spoke before she extended her slender pale fingers towards Mary in greeting. "Please if you vill, Veta vill be perfectly fine vhen addressing me," she added with a gentle smile. No title, no correction, just Veta?

"I have already concluded my prayers for this moment. My gratitude goes out to your bishop to allov me a private moment in vhich to do so. There are fev places in this city vhere I can vorship as my denomination so designates. Vhilst not completely in order I do not believe that prayer here vould be looked dovn apon by the Lord as long as prayer as indeed given. Shall I leave you be to pray Lady Hale?"

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Fyror’s gaze appreciatively took in the interior of Brunswick Chapel of Ease to St. Maryle Bone as he followed alongside Jeanette. The exterior of the chapel certainly did not do it justice for the beauty and peaceful atmosphere within. The architecture was well thought out and the walls and high ceiling were adorned with detailed paintings. People were coming and going, some civilians, some workers, and various clergy.

His arms relaxed at his sides, and he felt some of the tension from the hectic past hour drain from him. Being a hardened soldier coupled with having an innate protective instinct quickly left him on edge and seemingly standoffish at dark times such as these. Yet something about a holy place such as this brought about a sense of comfort and safety, and he was certainly grateful for even a moment’s reprieve.

He was glad that most of the people seemed too busy to take much notice of him and Jeanette who needless to say stood out in most public places. His scarred face and discolored eye and her choice of clothing that was completely contrary to social norms were hard to miss. At the moment, he decided not to entertain that thought and instead focused on the task at hand: reporting the Cargast attack in Hyde Park to someone more capable of handling it.

Jeanette suddenly made a sharp turn and headed for a man that stood out from the rest. His attire and manner suggested that he worked for the chapel, and yet he did not appear to be a clergy. Jeanette disregarded any formalities and went straight to the point. He noted that she talked in a low voice about the Cargast attack, likely not wanting to incite panic within the chapel. It was a smart move on her part. He admittedly found she had many admirable qualities. It was truly a shame that people judged her for her appearance without really getting to know her.

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Virginia's mind drifted from her body, and she glanced at her dear friend Millicent. But then she practically glided through the maze of London, observing the slight changes in position. The mist had been the cause of the distress, and so, Virginia headed to where she had glimpsed it last. She smiled wryly, as much as a projection of one's mind can smile, for it had gone.

It did not take her very long to guess as to where it had gone. She continued on in the direction of Almack's, taking in the scenery as she went. However, after a few minutes, a slight tug of pain occurred. If she continued to drift on, it would become more likely that she should never return to her corporal form. She would become stuck in this between until death, and while that possibility on its own was not troubling, she could not allow herself to vanish as her parents did, and abandon her brother. She could not force Millicent to act as his reagent.

Besides, her task had been performed. She knew that a tragedy would strike at Almack's that night, the only question remained was to what purpose. Her mind drifted back to her body, and she awoke from her trance, and shook her head slightly at Millicent. Nothing new had been attained. It would perhaps be more practical to send word to Almack's to inform them that the event must be canceled, and then to travel to the corpse's destination physically.

"Dear Millicent, please do not tread near Almack's tonight," Virginia finally said. "I feel ever the more certain that it shall only bring death."

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It was not surprising to Mary that the Pope was in declining health. He was a man of eighty years, no small feat even with the benefits of the Papacy. Still, it invoked an instant sadness. They knew each other personally; Mary knew him as a truly good man, wiser and kinder than many who had sat in his chair before him. She would have to inquire into the specifics of his health when it was appropriate. What was surprising was that this Russian noblewoman had heard stories about her. Her - Mary Hale, one of many anointed Knights and Dames of variable reputation. It was a little flattering. Then again, maybe it was meant to be flattering, for specific purpose.

Even if it was, it was no reason not to extend every courtesy she could. Mary was the interloper in this situation, her church or no. Mary beamed a quiet, angelic smile in response and accepted the noble's hand with practiced gentility, the action at odds with the callouses on her own hands; hands accustomed to labor and wielding weapons. "It is a genuine pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Elizaveta. ...I apologize, formality is within my nature, I fear. I shall attempt to suppress it as it comes to speaking with you directly, if this is your desire."

With some hesitation, the Apostolic managed to look her guest in the eye and say, "Veta... I insist that you call me Mary, then, for the sake of reciprocity. Also to give me reminder." Mary shifted the conversation back to something she was more comfortable with. Veta had mentioned that she was in fact just in prayer, but belonged to a denomination differing from her own. The young Dame assumed that she was discussing the Russian Orthodox Church, a belief structure very similar to Roman Catholicism, but with a few key differences that set apart. Hats notwithstanding. And they did love their hats.

"Greek or Latin, Heathen or Hebrew, Christ is all and in all, Veta. Even as his face is upon the waters and stones of the earth, so too can he be found here. Invoking His name is all that matters, regardless of the trappings around it. The Lord our God and the caretakers of St. Etheldreda's bear full support, I am certain."

"My own supplication will be brief. I have a new charge, upon whose behalf I must pray. Young boy, attacked by a Ryne in the marketplace nearby. With God's grace, I have Healed him and preserved his soul, but he still sleeps. The people who bore witness became very nervous, riotous even. I am concerned by the implications. You may want to stay on the grounds of Ely for a time yet."

As the two men pressed on to St. Peter's, in the corner of his eye Nathan caught something rather peculiar out of the window that made them stop for a moment. "You go ahead and take the body to the church." he said. " Why? What is it?" Gerard darted his eyes towards the direction where Nathan was studying, and back to him. "I'm going to check something out. Stay safe. I will go back to Millicent's when I am finished." He didn't say what is it that he saw at the moment, but whatever caught Mr. Darcy's attention was worth investigating enough. Gerard would have been willing to accompany him, if it weren't for the urgency to reach St. Peter's. "Alright." Gerard said a bit disquieted for the gentleman, as Nathan went to the other direction towards whatever it is that might have alerted him. "You be careful, Mr. Darcy." he said as both of them parted ways.

Gerard continued on the roads alone, with a dead body hunched with him. As he reached to the populous areas, plenty of people became more uneasy as he went by. He bowed his head, avoiding glances as people shot looks at him and on the body he carries. He wasn't used to all this attention that he's getting. He could hear people murmuring from the backgrounds, he could make out some, mostly concerning their disdain, uneasiness and fear. "Look Mama." a voice of a child arose from the clutter of people, pointing at the man on the horse with a poor soulless victim in tow. "Jesus, Joseph and Mary! Billy, get back inside, now." The plump woman hurriedly pulled the child away from the side of the road.

"...Other one?" He caught one of them said, Gerard glimpsed at their direction when they had already rushed off. At this rate, Gerard has a feeling that the journey will take a bit longer than it should.