I watched her, equally as distracted by her strange performance as the tileans. Luckily I was able to snap out of it when I took the meaning of her words, and Maximo poked his head out, perplexed. 

"What does she do?" He whispered in his native tongue. 

"Giving us an opening," I said, gripping the haft of my staff and rising to my full height. 

"Hortiman? Why I daresay that's me," The Chamberlain whispered. 

When Camilla screamed and pummeled the footman, I yelled in tilean for the Luccini ambassador to move, yanking at good, portly Shultz as I began to run. The three of us sprinted out of cover, and to my supreme relief neither of them dallied or did anything stupid. They merely ran, the Imperial ambassador following the tilean one dutifully. A crouched mercenary turned to look at us, his crossbow still steadied at Camilla. I gripped my staff and swung it in a backhanded arc, clapping against the crossbow to redirect it, my knee crunching into his face not a moment later. 

The imperials hesitated only the briefest moment, and then fired into the tileans with a fire and fury that would make Karl Franz's heart swell with pride. Blackpowder weaponry discharged and crossbows loosed while halberdiers and swordsmen charged forward at the confused tilean troop. The hall was soon embroiled in a fierce melee, a sudden shift to the battle of attrition from a scant minute prior. I saw Guy Du Ponce with his crucifix sword running a tilean through under the breastplate, crying out for the lady.

Camilla danced through the ranks, bounding like a deer and even somersaulting in mid-air over a pair of men locked in mortal combat. I always was an agile one, keeping myself fit and lean for escaping trouble if not for aesthetics in my more arrogant moments, but she made me feel quite inadequate. I only saw her for a brief glimpse, however, as a spearman stepped in front of Maximo and Shultz's way, black beard roiling in a scowl as he regarded them. I sprinted at them, jumping in front of the first thrust, my haft battering the spearpoint away. 

"Go!" I cried as the spear point reared back like a serpent, snapping forward again. I was nearly split open, but managed to sidestep it, leaving the man open for a counter-blow. Unbeknownst to most, my staff, though long, was very heavy at the top end. All Sigmarites had to carry some form of hammer, and the eight pointed circle ensconcing the heavy bronze skull served the purpose nicely. It struck the top of the man's kettle helm like a falling star, bludgeoning him so hard it dented the helm and he hit the ground soundlessly. I leaped over his form and hurried after the others, and once we passed through our line of soldiers I thanked Sigmar just to be pragmatic in keeping with my luck. 

"Chamberlain!" Captain Muller called, running back from the hall, his sword bloodied with a shallow wound in his side. "You're alive!" 

"Why yes, and it's been a very trying morning." He said, the fat man drenched in sweat. He wiped his bearded face and smiled. "I have to give credit to our dear priest and his lovely lady friend." 

"We can thank everyone later. First let's get out of this city. The wine isn't that good." Muller said, and before the hour was out, the Imperial delegation and guard had made a fighting retreat out of the palace and marched in battle formation until the gate was in sight.