There was something in the council room that nagged at my attention. Something...elusive, I couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was my subconscious or maybe the lord Sigmar was trying to reach me, but whatever it was it stayed just out of arms reach. Oh well, I was not getting paid for this. As long as we survived today, got something to eat, and then had some fun with Camilla I would be happy. This was all far above my station or desire. And I usually followed my desires, at the end of the day. 

"As you say," Maximo said in tilean. 

"Herr Cran'Darack, I am most tired. Can we go back to our rooms?" The Chamberlain asked me. He knew roughly what was occurring, but he seemed to be too tired to really give it enough thought to add more than his complaint. I could not blame him. 

"I concur, let's make our way over to our quarters, shall we? And then find some deadbolts for the doors while we're at it. I don't fancy waking up tomorrow in the manner I had today." I said, and despite my injury and lack of willingness to throw myself into further danger, I found I lead the pack as we exited the room, slipping down the side corridors I had used just yesterday to reach my quarters. 

The halls were eerily quiet, blood smearing the walls and the occasional body interrupting what seemed to be a veritably vacated palace. The hallway gave way to a small, open square with four halls around it. A small, enclosed botanical garden to sit and enjoy the fresh air while a fountain babbled with clear water, only now inky and reddened with a body half slumped over the stone pool, the man likely having been forcibly drowned during a rough melee. Even as we passed, two Condottieri traded blows in the garden, steel ringing in a rhythmic clash, shouts and perjoratives streaming from their mustachioed mouths. 

Their blades locked, they both stopped for a moment in their combat to the death and looked at us, and we at them. 

I cleared my throat. "Pay no attention to us, gentleman. En garde!" I said, and continued on, the others following. As we entered the next gallery, their struggles rose again and the banging of their sideswords continued. Soon, more numerous sounds of combat reached our ears, and we surreptitiously slunk through a lobby of comfortable chairs and a painting of the founding of Remas and crouched by the door. 

I peered out slowly, holding my breath as I looked out into the hall. I beheld Marco's men, or what was left of them, in a grueling ranged battle with my own imperial troops who were further down the wide corridor, each man hiding behind pillars and alcoves and large, thick tapestries. Two swordsmen grappled on the floor, but most of the soldiers who held melee weapons were hidden to keep themselves safe from the gunshots and crossbows that ricocheted off the walls. A dead halberdier by the name of Johan lay in the midst of the two forces, his dead eyes staring lifelessly, seemingly right at me. His halberd was blood stained, but a dagger lay in his neck, blood pooling from the wound. I cursed, praying for his soul to find guidance to the afterlife. 

"Any ideas?" I whispered to Camilla from across the door frame. "I'm out of spells and we have two dozen of your countrymen between us and safety."