"Her being dressed properly hardly seems your intent Rowan." Gillian said, sipping his wine as his fellow knights flirted with one another. "And please dont encourage him Elwen." He added, refilling his glass as he spoke. "No amount of alcohol makes that a good idea. I'd rather have my arms cut off a second time than hear him attempt to." he chuckled, casting a glance over to the mini-captain and the princess. They seemed to be getting on well, which was a good sign. Even if in so far all he'd heard exchanged between them was the idle chatter that permeated such parties.

He nodded wordlessly to Segmore as he approached and joined their little band. "I live, which is a good sign." He said with a shrug. "All things considered, the party is substantially less life threatening than most of our jobs. Keep expecting things to go ti-" He began, stopping himself. Probably a poor idea to use the more crass language within earshot of their host. "Pear shaped. Like a drider to burst through the floor or an army of highly agitated Nem falling from the ceiling. But the nights young."

@Heartfillia@VitaVitaAR @Krayzikk @Sync@jdh97

The merriment of the night seemed to have doused itself on the atmosphere. Things seemed to have finally settled into a sense of ease in which the knights could enjoy the ball. The three seemed to have now pounced on the spear knight, which he welcomed, smirk on hold. "I'll have you know that my song would lullaby specters to their rest. Rest assured that my next attempt, whether it be inebriated or not, would subject you all to the most heavenly of muses." He spoke in jest, swirling the wine in his glass with a simple twirl of his wrist before taking another sip. Tonight was one of fun, and a time of ease beyond all the stress that battle might bring. Rowan admittedly loved the aura of a fight, it's where he belonged, where he was at his most useful. With spear in hand and battle ready. The thoughts peered themselves before his mind, and he could only think about them fondly. Life was pursuit of strength, and he would walk those steep roads happily. However... Just as the thought began to sink in, the atmosphere changed. Knights began to gather 'round where the four stood. Their bodies tensed up, and unless you were daft, you knew something was amiss.

There wasn't enough liquor in the world that would wipe away this sort friction. Hell, people might even take notice as to why so many of the knight's just caught themselves together. But it's wasn't certain until Sir Gerard spoke his inquiry. Outside of Gillian's usual jest, everyone seemed to have shifted their demeanor. Gerard seemed almost analytic, careful... when moments prior he was exchanging pleasantries with the princess, calm and collected. "Although I can only imagine the idea of a descending array of Nem would look like in a ball, I wouldn't say there was any cause for worry... until you came and mentioned something, Gerard. Leads me to believe that what I first anticipated to be a night of whimsical merriment might just be disguising a bigger dilemma." A sigh escaped him, he finished his wine before continuing.

"Would even bet you a shiny gold coin for your thoughts, but something tells me it be best to follow directive, and tread like a cat at night." Rowan had no idea what was going on, but his tone of voice lowered, his pitch was enough for them to hear, but not loud enough that it would reach the ears of the other guest.

@Crimson Paladin@Raineh Daze@jdh97@PaulHaynek@Krayzikk@FlappyTheSpybot@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR@ghastlyInc

---

---

Elwen raised an eyebrow at an eyebrow and nicomede as he told Rowan not to call him that. She recognized the name as she did with most nobles. Kinda had to when she was one herself. Explains why he didn't use a sur name. It was stripped from him.

She peered to the right to see another Knight making his way hastily to Tyaethes. After which one od the knights in that group broke away and made a b line for them and the princess. Something was up. She continued to drink her wine, looking clearly at ease where she stood. As if not picking up the tention growing in the room.

The princess invited them over but it was clear it was just for the food. She was too enthralled with the new Knight captain to want to talk to the other knights.

When Gillian spoke up about to Rowan making a comment about clothes not on. She rolled her eyes. Ugh. Typical male comment. She didn't acknowledge him when he spoke to her telling her to not encourage Rowan. She wasn't. Hopefully the guy would simply forget.

Her eyes darted around the room looking for anything out of the ordinary. All the while looking like she was simply enjoying her drink and conversation. Only man that stood out was a Knight clad in all black armor. A fashion statement for sure. But he's the only one wearing the helmet.

Another Knight asked how they were and she gave him a look. Grabbing a bottle from the table. She popped the cork and took a long swig. "better now that things are going to get interesting. looking to Rowan. I believe it's only proper for a Knight to offer her Royal Highness a drink. she said giving him a look which meant she had a plan. you other three should make sure he doesn't get too friendly with her. Keep your eyes open for anyone not keeping their eyes on me whispered as she started to walk away pretending to be a a bit tipsy.

Elwen never liked waiting on defense when they had no clue what they were up against. Her plan was to somehow gain attention of all those not involved. Or if she was wrong. Really embarrass the order. Oh well.

She bumped into a few nobles acting giddy while drunk taking sips from the bottle as she went. When she was close enough to the center of the room and far away from the princess so when she acted it would hopefully reveal those not focused on her.

She stopped, looking at the Black Knight she smiled as if recognizing him. " SIR GARETH!?! IS YHAT YOU??? She screamed at the top of her lungs. Laughing after words. I can't believe that's YOU. it's been AAAGES. smashing the empty wine glass on the ground

She continued to yelling to gain the focus of everyone in the hall. In hopes that those who were too focus on their assassination attempt to not look at her. So that the three knights or others might see how focused on the princess they were.

She kept walking to the Black Knight giggling. Till she was right in front of him.

It seemed, for the moment, no-one was making any unusual moves towards the princess at this very moment. For now, at the very least... no, much of the crowd seemed quite distracted by the sudden disappearance of the cake.

"Ah, Sir Gerard, was it?" Eliabelle said with a smile as the knight approached, "Aside from the sudden disappearance of the cake, we're doing quite well."

She frowned again, as her eyes returned to the empty space the enormous ode to all that was baked goods had once sat.

"Really, who takes an entire cake? It must have been a mage..."

Fanilly glanced towards Sir Gerard. Was something the matter? It wasn't as if she had any particular reason to suspect as such aside from the vanished cake, but when one of her knights suddenly approached her, asking if all was well... it arose suspicions. She didn't want to ask in front of the Princess, disrupting the mood would have hardly aided anything and she didn't want to frighten Eliabelle either, especially if it turned out that nothing was wrong at all. Ah... she couldn't really count on her questioning look towards her knight coming across at all, either...

What was she to do?

Before she could say much else, however, there was suddenly more commotion towards the gardens, drawing much of the crowds' attention. Perhaps now would be the time to look for an intruder? Though nothing seemed out of the ordinary at the moment...

---

"Manti... core...?"

Violette tilted her head. She had only ever heard of such a creature, and to know it existed and was actually something that a living person could encounter... that did serve to catch her interest, certainly. Even if she quickly tried to bury it under a much less intrigued expression, looking away once more.

It was only obvious she wasn't the type who was often honest with her interests.

"... I suppose something like that is different, at least..."

In the gardens, the black knight stared at the sudden approach of the seemingly-drunk Elwen. They said not a single word, expression completely hidden behind their face-concealing armet, but at this distance one thing was perfectly clear:

The knight was incredibly tall. Over two meters, perhaps even more. This cut quite the striking figure, especially combined with the completely black armor. Additionally, the knight was equipped with a short sword on one hip, but also an incredibly long zweihander, larger than all but perhaps the blade wielded by the Iron Rose Knights' eldest member, matching the huge knight's height at least.

The knight continued to say nothing, but the small girl with dark gray pigtails swiftly interposed herself between the two of them. She was young, thirteen perhaps at the oldest, wearing a navy blue dress in contrast to her fair skin and light brown eyes.

"Haelstadt isn't this Sir Gareth, drunkard," she protested immediately, "And neither of us have a single interest in entertaining your boorish behavior."

@Sync@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk@Heartfillia

@Crimson Paladin@Raineh Daze@jdh97@PaulHaynek@Krayzikk@FlappyTheSpybot@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR@ghastlyInc

---

---

Elwen nearly tipped over when suddenly stopped by the girl next to the giant of a man. She looked down at the young girl for a moment before taking another swing of her bottle. As if processing the little girls words in her head. "Not Sir Gareth?

She looked up to the giant again. Looking at his weapons, mostly at the great sword. judging by the figures height and build, it's possible he was very skilled with the sword...possibly able to use it with one hand effectively. Squinting her eyes she tried to see the eyes of the figure within the slits of his helmet. Something was off about this man. Besides the mans height that is, Why was he covering his face at a ball? Why didn't he say anything?

Perhaps not... she said as she tilted her head to the side thinking.

Looking down at the girl again she leaned in and said softly, "I think this man is a little bit too big for you dear. You know what they say about men who carry big swords... She chuckled. Standing back up. She suddenly reached over the girl and pushed the giant of a man's shoulder in a playful manner, covering the fact she was trying to figure out what this guy's deal was...or what he was. "They got BIG HANDS! right!?" She laughed a bit.

Looking back down at the girl. I must apologize. You were correct in this is not Gareth. For Gareth is a bit more plump around the midsection. she said while making a motion to her own midsection with her hands. Though expertly not loosing a bit of her wine. Who might you be, to be escorted by the strong silent type? she said with a slight slur in her voice.

Fleuri Jodeau

Jerel was right- in Fleuri's haste to get here, he had drawn a lot of attention to himself. Many of the nobles has taken notice, some directly brushed by the knight, others simply noticing his uncharacteristic rush through the ballroom The social ramifications of it still seemed unimportant, but it'd likely make it harder notice something amiss.

This is my fault! How are we supposed to find danger if everyone's watching us too? In the middle of his worried train of thought, something dawned on Fleuri.

"Wait a minute...their reactions might tell us something. They may be a little suspicious of something, but they're reacting as expected for one who doesn't expect any peril. At least not the sort of peril that is to be expected at a gathering like this."

Don't get me wrong, Jerel," Fleuri elaborated, "These soirees are rife with the aristocracy's schemes and games, but this is different. What we're looking for is something outside the bounds of the games of intrigue and plotting that the nobility come here to play. They expect that the quarrels and spells unleashed here will be of words, not steel and magic. Whatever the danger it is, it'll be something out of the ordinary- or rather, what is considered ordinary here."

The challenge for Fleuri was that while he might have some idea of what to look for, he didn't know where to look for it in a ballroom of this size. By contrast, a man like Jerel, a lower-class man who was practically born with a bow in his hand, would probalby have a good idea as to where an assassin might position themselves, but might not be sufficiently familiar with the manners and etiquette of the aristocracy to realize if one of the attendees was acting off.

"Jerel, you're a skilled bow-hunter, correct?" he whispered to his fellow knight. "Where would you guess an assailant might place themselves to threaten the Princess? I've attended enough of these events that I could probably spot something out of the ordinary here, and if you can narrow down where the danger could come from, we might be able to pinpoint this danger to the Princess. As he spoke this, he felt pangs of doubt? What if he was wrong, what if he's putting the knights on alert over a child's prank? Fleuri glanced back at the cake and recalled it vanishing without a trace in the space of a few seconds.

If it turns out this is a prank, it's a very elaborate one beyond the ability of most of the nobility.

@jdh97

Gerard Segremors

"Yes, Gerard Segremors. I'm honored, and glad to hear you're all having a good time." He replied, belatedly inclining his head to the Princess after a nod to Sir Nicomede, acknowledging his name. Were this a different time and place, he'd have mentioned his surprise at being remembered, particularly by the Princess— but he couldn't quite focus on the pleasant feelings of acknowledgement.

"Sorry to say, I'm a bit jumpier," he continued, tossing an apologetic smile towards Rowan Balthier. The blue-haired spearman was infamously patient in battle, enough that even Gerard had heard tell of it, but seemed nonetheless miffed by the air the swordsman had carried into their group. How unfortunate."I was surprised to see you all right in front of me after I made it through the congregation. I'd been meaning to ask Sir Fleuri something, but was forced to give chase once he cut through to Paladin Tyaethe. He's quite fast when he wants to be."

His mind was, naturally, racing as he gave the explanation. There were a few ways he could go about this, and with his information so limited, he didn't want to overstep what he knew when relaying his troubles. In the event he was wrong, it could be potentially catastrophic for everyone involved. There was such a thing as being too careful.

Gillian Reynauld, it seemed, was of like mind. Of those present, he was the one Gerard knew best, though that was saying little. The Living Reliquary had a penchant for dry absurdism to keep the mood light, joking about lighting himself on fire to escape capture and such, but beneath it he had a solid head on his shoulders. The man had an eye for people, in spite of (or perhaps because, thinking about it) his jabs and jests. Gerard saw as much firsthand when he'd consoled and advised Captain Fanilly in the aftermath of the raid. Perhaps it'd be best to follow his pace now. Clearly he was the object of some concern, after all...

"I'll be honest, for a hick like me, the Drider or Nem would be preferable to this," he joked, watching the one he didn't recognize swipe a bottle from the table and saunter off as he did so, happily bumping into a few other guests shoulder-first. "It's a lot simpler swinging my sword at whatever our Captain needs me to than minding my manners and worrying about stumbling straight into the royal family, you know?"

The unnamed woman quite evidently didn't share those concerns. She hadn't seemed nearly so deep in her cups prior. Not when he'd glanced upon her group, at any rate...

Still, be it intentional theatrics or coincidental intoxication, it served to get eyes off of them for the moment— and doubly so once she spotted a tall, armored man out at the edge of the gardens, raucously calling out to a "Sir Gareth". Whether or not that was somebody he recognized in name or form didn't matter at all.

All that mattered was that this was an opening.

"In fact, if I could confide something, ma'am..."

As the clamor tore yet more gazes away from the group, including hopefully the Princess's, Gerard stepped forward and leaned in close to the teenaged leader of their order, speaking in a low, clipped undertone. The Captain needed to know, if nothing else, what he had seen. If the other knights overheard, fine enough— they were all clearly more experienced than he in this field to begin with. They'd know what to do with what he said, so long as he relayed it clearly.

"That man's nerve doesn't rattle for anything. I don't know what by, but he was spooked enough to all but rush to Tyaethe and Jerel. If you can link up with one'a them, he probably passed it on. That's all I've got."

He jerked his head back towards the scene near the gardens and let a wry smirk play on his face as he took a moment to return to his full height and "meet the eyes" of his fellows once more. Fanilly, Rowan, Gillian, Nicomede— he did share a glance with each in turn, yes, but the wide sweep of his amber gaze took in as much of the crowd behind them as it could.

It pained him to twist the embarrassing circumstances of what he could only assume to be a compatriot into something so self-serving, but she'd given him a golden opportunity not only to answer the curiosity of his superior officer, but he could not help but of what he had meant to ask his fellow Reonite in the first place—

"So, seeing as I can't escape my concerns, I seek guidance from my betters. Would you mind if I shadowed you all for a while? You seem to be quite comfortable with the many manners of court. I've much to learn, that's clear enough."

—and it served as a good alibi now that one was needed, when returning to normal speaking volume. While he was of the mind that "technically not lying" was in turn only "technically still alright", it would be a price he'd pay for a reason to stick close. If he couldn't bear it, then he did not deserve to pledge his oath to this Order.

Whatever it takes. If there's one person who I could assume would be endangered, she stands before me in white and gold.

"I mean, I already know to not drink as much as that one, so head start there."

Sir Jerel Ban

The change was sudden and unsettling to watch; it threw the mind of balance in the same way as those who wove illusions.

And just like that she was gone.

Jerel’s arm slumped from Fleuri. Faith. That’d what he had to maintain, above all else, faith in the others. He thought back to his rose, his offer to Mayon, dropped from a tower, silent, unheard. Why was it so hard?

He frowned at Fleuri’s words, then thought better of it. The fellow knight was right.

Jerel’s eyes danced to the disturbance, a drunken knight it seemed, but then away again. There was no danger to the princess there, nothing mortal. Jerel scanned the crowd for any sign, the barest hint, and came up wanting.

He was beginning to doubt.

“I am, but, I don’t know Fleuri... They’d need a vantage, somewhere high, or to be so close to the princess that they wouldn’t need a bow. And then a route of escape, a window or the gardens, perhaps.”

Jerel wracked his mind, trying to figure the best spot whilst surveying the room discreetly (which was near impossible, but thankfully Jerel was not a focal point). Seeing where the crowds were thickest, where they offered cover and where they hindered, the ceilings, the walls, every piece of furniture, the routes available to flee.

However, in the the end, he shrugged, and near spat, “it’s useless. Once you factor in magic they could come from anywhere.

“Perhaps we best just tell the princess?”

@Crimson Paladin

Gerards sudden appearance caught his attention. Indrau took a couple of steps closer to the captain and the princess, settling both hands on the head of his cane, left over right. He stood casually but his shoulders were tense under his coat as he leaned closer to Gerard. He had been about to ask what had caught his attention when a commotion from the gardens caught his eye.

He was close enough to hear most of what was said, and it was enough to catch his interest. He looked around and spotted Tyeathe moving closer. He nodded in her direction. Indrau turned back to Gerard and the Captain. He almost relished the opportunity to have something to do, even if it turned out to be nothing.

"My advice is to not speak unless you have something of import to say. You seem to be doing well so far. Let someone know if anything else comes to mind."

He hopped the young knight caught the meaning behind his message. The head of his cane rotated with a click that was inaudible below the conversation in the room. Now only friction held the magic deadening blade from being unveiled.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

Did Elwen just--? That was the first thought that peered into his head the moments she suggested that he should take this opportunity to hand the princess a drink. What in the gods name did she think he was? His brow furrowed in visible animosity at the statement, although he had a history to partake in his occasional flirting, he was more a charmer than a philanderer. He wouldn't dare approach the Queen of the realm with such a proposal, let alone it's princess. There was first his pride as a knight, secondly this woman held the power to hold him over his head, throw him into a dungeon for the rest of his life on a good note, and on a bad one behead him in one clean swipe and stake the head at the center of one of her thousands of porches to scare the crows away. Thirdly it was a matter of etiquette, she wasn't any noble, she was royalty to approach the leaders of the people with causal regard like any other noble or commoner was great form of disrespect. There are protocols for something, and he wasn't about to dent his principals, he'd rather find a much more different approach to this.

By the time he decided to respond to her idea, she had already taken the first step and headed out to form conversation. A sigh escaped him, and he returned to the others. "Well, standing around here fiddling with our fingers in anticipation wouldn't herald anything. Our priority is her safety of course, and although I refuse to comply with Lady Elwen's idea. I do agree that we need to keep as close to her majesty as to as least ward her from any attacks." Rowan placed down his drink, pondering what would be the most effective move for all of this, Nicomede was in fact a strategist, maybe he held the answers for this situation. They were blind as can be, and didn't know the first thing about this individual. A lot of the knight were gathered close. "The other option is to remove her from the ball, however it might just make her an easier target, the people would make honest shield for her, considering that this 'guest' of ours isn't planing on a bow or an arrow. For the moment, I suppose it's best that we don't leave her to her lonesome. We can at least make sure she is well guarded."

Some of these people have never worked a ball in their life.

It was enough to make a man despair. They weren't all supposed to be bodyguards, no, that wasn't quite their function but still. Not distressing the charge unduly, especially when that charge was the princess, should have been a clear prerequisite. This Sir Gerard was handling things with much more subtlety. But there was no shutting that box again now, so the question was how to handle it. Both the Knight-Captain and the Princess could both issue instructions, of course, but a proper planner was always thinking ahead anyway. In lieu of orders and even in conjunction one should always have a plan.

Nicomede didn't have all of his armor with him. It was a formal occasion, and what remained of his full set wasn't formal enough. But the spada da lato was as much a court sword as a proper weapon, and it was belted at his side accordingly. His off hand slipped casually to its hilt, palm resting lightly upon it. Not a move that anyone would pay much mind to, it bore no aggression or intent. Simply a shift of readiness. The other still held his glass and he took a sip, smiling in Gerard's direction.

"Then you've already learned the most important lesson in high society, Sir. When to stop drinking." He smiled and tilted his head slightly to invite the other knight closer, the motion disguised by another sip. He pitched his voice lower to ensure it wouldn't travel and redirected his attention. "Sir Rowan, we have neither the authority to usher the princess out nor would it be wise. We must also keep our voices down. It is for the Knight-Captain to inform her majesty of any problems, not for us to gossip about them aloud. We will not cause a scene. But we should be alert and stick loosely together."

"If Sir Gerard would fill us in about what he knows...?"

"Excuse me?!" snapped the small, gray-haired girl, narrowing her eyes, "What is that supposed to mean, exactly?!"

While the girl was certainly irritated, the knight didn't say a single thing. They stood stock still, like a statue, the shove to their shoulder not causing them to budge even a single centimeter. The only sign the armored figure was even a living being was the slight shift of those barely-visible eyes.

The gray-haired girl folded her arms across her chest.

"I am Lady Veileena Cal," she introduced herself, "And you are a drunkard I haven't the time for. I will have Haelstadt find somewhere far more suitable for the likes of you if this harassment continues."

Veileena Cal, the daughter of Phoran Cal, the sole living direct heir to the Cal name. She had refused to bury her father's remains in the family tomb, instead choosing to have his corpse dumped in an unmarked grave in the wilderness, and this was hardly an unknown fact.

That probably said everything, really.

---

"... Ah, um, very well, Sir Gerard," Fanilly said, scratching the back of her head lightly as she did. To be honest, she wasn't sure she was the best when it came to gleaning how to behave at a ball. Honestly, whenever she was at one when she was younger, she tended only to talk to a small amount of people and was usually rather quiet. It wasn't that she didn't like parties, she just always felt a bit overwhelmed by them. Still, she was doing her best.

"Not at all, I'd love the chance to speak with more of the knights!" declared the Princess, brightly, smiling towards Sir Gerard as she did.

Things seemed to be going well, for now, but...

Fanilly knew something was going on. Even if none of the knights had yet told her...

"Watch to your right."

It was a little girl's voice, in her right ear. Fanilly immediately turned, wide-eyed. Who said that? Where-

Somehow, a tiny female figure seemed to materialize from the crowds. Small, perhaps a little over a meter in height, with a hood. Fanilly thought she caught a glimpse of pale skin and crimson eyes between scarf and hood, but more importantly...!

The figure raised a pistol crossbow, took aim and-

Fanilly grabbed the princess and immediately yanked her down, as the bolt sailed over both of their heads and embedded itself in the distant wall! Before she could rise and try and give orders to her knights, the assassin had already adjusted her aim, squarely at the downed, surprised princess and preparing to loose another shot...!

@Sync@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk@Heartfillia

The first shot came as a surprise, even whilst on the lookout--maybe, if the captain hadn't already been moving and action wouldn't have risked more problems, she could have got it, but still... this assassin had some pretty impressive stealth. Unfortunately for her, Tyaethe had a pretty good idea of what was going on, and wasn't going to let her vanish again.

She also had to deal with the second arrow though, and her hands were quite full of sword--not really appropriate for cutting things from the air. Nor sufficiently intimidating enough to maybe get a bit of co-operation.

So, one second the bolt was being loosed, and there was one small vampire standing right in the way, cheerfully taking the shot to the chest and seeming rather unbothered by it all. Staring at the obviously-a-Nem assassin. "If anyone tries something lethal, I'm knocking them out."

How would they solve anything if someone killed the assassin?

There.

The Knight-Captain's quick thinking saved the Princess from the first bolt, and intervention the second. Not that the second would ever have been an issue. Even a repeating crossbow, some variant of which it must have been to fire a second shot quickly, had a cycle time. Small, but ample time for someone properly ready.

An ornate spada slipped from its sleeve in a whipping, diagonal arc towards ready. Wine spilled from the glass in Nicomede's other hand fell towards the floor... and abruptly changed course, following the tip of his blade towards its apex and forward through the unobstructed air. Tight and controlled on a lancing course towards and through the crossbow's line. Too far for his edge to reach, but with ease for something less direct.

"Tagliare." Nicomede uttered quietly, blade coming to rest in practiced stance. He wasn't closest to the assassin, nor did he rush to be. With the weapon's line cut it wouldn't be able to fire again. And if he was right, well... Sir Gerard was about to see to things.

He finished the remainder of the wine in his glass without taking his eyes off of the Nem.

Gerard Segremors

Sir Indrau would be proud to note that Segremors, more than anything, had proven himself a keen listener.

His head whipped to the source of the blur that flashed across his field of view, narrowly missing the Princess's skull thanks to their forewarned Captain, and her reflexes. There, as if she had melted out of the shadows between men, stood the small figure of a hooded Nem Assassin. In her hands was a crossbow, sized for her kind and in the midst of racking another bolt—

Now was no time for talk.

He existed now within the indes. The interval. The time between actions, where reaction was king. The attack had been made. There was an infinitesimal window for reprisal. Not to be wasted on speech, not to be wasted on anything but decision. Something the knight had grown very, very accustomed to, beaten deep into the the framework of his mind.

Reclaim Vor.

You're mine.

And the space between the Princess, the Captain, and the Nem was filled by a hurtling wall of leather, steel, and furnace-eyed fury. As soon as his reactions allowed, he had broken off into a dead sprint, bearing down upon the would-be Assassin as though nothing else in the world mattered. His mission was clear. No orders were necessary— the threat had shown itself. That tiny crossbow would be lethal to those unarmored, but it wasn't going to have a chance in hell of getting through him.

Even if it penetrated his armor, that didn't matter. He'd get to them before he felt it. His blood was well and truly coursing now— They had courted themselves a fight. The world even seemed to slow just as much as it hastened— there wasn't much distance at all he had to cover, but he still saw the very many things that happened in sequence. A blink of an eye felt simultaneously like the world had slowed. The rush of fire through his body, so familiar, had returned in full.

The Nem was professional enough to waste no time in reloading and adjusting her aim, and as he broke away from their group, she had already gotten a bead on the now-downed Princess— and fired. He couldn't see the bolt flying downrange, too focused on the shooter herself, but knew he had a good chance of being in the way of it. He wouldn't let it tear his burning gaze away from his target.

Before he could brace for the thunk against his frame, be it upon armor or digging dully into his flesh, another interposed herself between the missile and the group. By extension, Gerard as well. Tyaethe, currently child-sized, took the shot. She was a vampire. She seemed as unbothered as he would expect.

"If anyone tries something lethal, I'm knocking them out."

Unbothered enough to change mission. He couldn't completely eliminate the threat anymore. Capture, then.

In the next fraction of a second, as he darted past the Paladin, a burgundy lance burst forth from behind, cresting the diminutive albino's shoulder and terminating right at the crossbow in her hands. Gerard was close enough now to watch the string, before it could rack a third bolt, fall limply, uselessly, to the sides of the pistol stock. Those limbs wouldn't draw back again. No more projectiles to even think about. He knew not whose magic it was, nor the type exactly, but somebody had just taken the weapon out of the picture.

Good. He could roughhouse without worry now. Nothing flying in confusion. No need to wrestle away a weapon. Nearly there.

He dove for the Nem with one powerful leap, all the athleticism that had carried him over that short distance in the span of seconds now sending over two hundred pounds of flesh and metal directly into the frame of the Assassin. He'd get a hold of her. Drive his knee, all weight behind it, into the small of her back. Twist an arm up and behind for good measure. Hold his knife to her throat—

Nonlethal. Too risky. Struggling could mean unintended cut.

He'd immobilize her head. Maybe grind into the floor to interrogate. Really get a whiff of the posh carpet.

At nearly double her height and reach, coming in with all the speed and force he could muster, he was certain he could get ahold of this one. She had so much to react to, so little distance between them— all it would be was a matter of grappling. He had advantages in spades there. Length. Strength. Maybe experience. Definitely meanness.

Unless orders came into the contrary, he intended to leverage them all until the incoming interrogation ended.

"SHIT!" Gillian yelped as the first crossbow bolt fired, the twang of its string sounding far louder than it should have. That nem...where had it even come from? He and the other knights had been watching the party like hawks. Its was like the assassin had just been birthed from the ether. Deciding that thinking was better saved for latter he rushed to the princess and the mini captain, skittering to a halt as Gerard charged the assassin; a mad blitz of ingrained instinct and training seeming to over come the man.

Squatting in front of the Princess' and Fanlily's prone forms Gill slammed his forearms together, the alien metal ringing loud enough that he could feel the vibrations in his teeth. The air in front of him warped for a moment before a an red sigil burst to life in a crackle of flame. "You two ok?" he grunted, watching through the shield ward as Tyaethe and Gerard intercepted their tiny intruder. "Cause its REALLY gonna hurt my chances with Alisha if either of you are dead..." He said, trying to sound at ease and just barely succeeding. He kept his eyes glued to the nem, watching for any sign of magic. While he was confident his ward could take any physical attack the little murderer could throw at him, even a minor spell could pass right through. And with how much effort was needed to keep it up, he didn't really like his chances of getting out of the way of one if it came, much less the three of them.
@Heartfillia@VitaVitaAR @Krayzikk @Sync@jdh97

"Iron Roses! To arms!" cried Fanilly. Even if some were already moving, she had to let everyone know. She had to!

Positioning her body over the stunned princess, the blonde girl gave a swift nod to Sir Gillian to affirm her own wellbeing before her eyes turned towards the princess. In the commotion, she'd had to act as swiftly as she could, and so it wasn't possible to try and ensure that Eliabelle landed without coming to any harm.

The Princess, trembling for a few moments under the Captain, managed to nod weakly.

All around them, the Crown Knights had immediately stepped forward and brought out their weapons in a rattling of steel. Fanilly didn't understand how it was possible for the assassin to get in here without anyone seeing her, nor how she could have possibly escaped if she had performed her assassination effectively.

They'd have to find out from interrogation!

Gerard's assessment of his advantages against the diminutive killer was correct. Even as she swiftly shed her cloak in an attempt to obscure her escape, she just couldn't escape his reach swiftly enough and found her small frame pinned under his much larger one. Her destroyed pistol crossbow was useless, as well...

Her arm being pulled up and twisted swiftly disarmed her of the knife she had drawn in that instant, though any slower would likely have found it buried somewhere vulnerable.

Perhaps the strangest thing was the fact that the nem made not a single noise when this happened, even if there was pain clear on her face. With her cloak removed, it was clear she was a fairly young nem, her large red eyes wincing, her teeth gritted, anger and pain clear on her soft features.

And yet still not a single noise came from her.

@HereComesTheSnow@Asuras@jdh97@Animal@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk@Heartfillia

The naga had been partway into explaining the nature of Manticores and how she had encountered one when a commotion broke out around the Princess & the Knight Captain. Mari tensed as an expletive pierced the general murmur of the crowd. Gillian by the sound of the voice, what?...

"Iron Roses! To arms!"

...And that's the Captain. Momentarily turning back towards Violette, Mari bobs her head as some sort of apology. "Duty calls, excuse me." In one smooth motion, the naga twists around and darts through crowd towards the main group, quarterstaff tucked tight to her side. Slithering into the circle, Mari promptly sizes up the situation. One assassin, plenty of rattled nerves, but nothing more. Sidling up to Gerard and the would-be assassin, the naga slips her staff between them and helps pin down the Nem. "I'm reasonably familiar with the Nem, so I can handle this one if you would keep an eye for any more trouble." She says, frowning slightly as she notes the would-be assassin's complete lack of noise. A mute? Or perhaps some sort of silencing spell? Either way, that could be problematic...

Tyaethe seemed rather distracted--or possibly bored--now that the danger was over, giving the nem the occasional curious look but otherwise having her attention drift over to the vacated food. After all, even the nobility wasn't inclined towards completely ignoring assassination attempts...

Or maybe the process of healing was simply rather uncomfortable when it involved pushing a crossbow bolt out of your chest. Sure enough, the shot found itself falling onto the floor with a quiet rattle, the vampire poking in irritation at the bloodstained hole in her dress. At least she hadn't brought a scarf along, ruining those was never any fun...

Fleuri Jodeau

If there was a threat that could be seen from where Fleuri and Jerel stood, the two knights could not see it. None of the guests seemed to behave out of the ordinary, and no threat could be seen from the vantage points that Jerel had pointed out. Fleuri was considering approaching the Princess when he heard a commotion coming from over there. There was no doubt in his mind what had happened.

It was true. It was all true.

"Come on Jerel, we need to help them," Fleuri said, as he headed in the direction of the disturbance. Now with no concern whatsoever for propriety, he shoved and pushed past the dense crowd, silently uttering a prayer to Reon that the Princess was unharmed, as he followed the sounds of the contining scuffle. When he finally reached the scene of the crime, it had been mostly already resolved. Gerald had subdued what looked like an assassin, a Nem from the look of it. Maritza, Nicomede, and Gillian were nearby, ready to back up Gerard if needed. Tyaethe was in the process of pulling a crossbow quarrel out of her chest, unfazed by what would be a serious injury for a mortal man or woman.

Did someone shoot her? No, she must've blocked the shot. Nobody would be foolish enough to try and kill her with a mere crossbow bolt. But where's the Princess? Fleuri breathed an audible sigh of relief when he finally noticed the Princess, underneath Fanilly, seemingly unharmed.

Thank Reon we seemed to have stopped her, he mused, as he knelt down to grab the assassin's dropped knife. A damaged crossbow lay nearby, no doubt the would-be-murder weapon. I'm not exactly an authority on assassins, but I had to wager a guess, it'd be that she intended to use this on herself, he silently mused as he examined the dagger. Best to keep it out of her reach in case she breaks free of Gerard's grip.

"Gillian, Maritza, could either of you bring me up to speed?" he asked, looking up at his fellow knights. "What did I miss? Was anyone besides Tyaethe injured?"

@FlappyTheSpybot@VitaVitaAR@ghastlyInc@jdh97