[img]https://i.imgur.com/gfxRzDm.png[/img] [h3]Mirie Agustria of the Grand Bank,[/h3][i]Duchess of Caelin[/i] [hr] [b]Execution Grounds\\[/b] And indeed, the execution was not what it had seemed at all. In fact, what happened had far exceeded her expectations, and Mirie had to be impressed. Duke Willowsteel was allowed his last words—a speech, and the crowd responded in kind. It was interesting, how it started. The murmurs and yells among the crowd started sporadically at first, and then drew closer and closer to a riot. Were those rotten tomatoes? They were. Still seated, the duchess of Caelin threw up a shield of wind around the stands. It would not do if her other the other important guests would be marred by an unfortunate fruit, and it served to add additional protection to the Queen, as well. Returning her attention to the crowd, she watched the chaos placidly at first. She was convinced there were plants in crowd—and a prelude to something else. The arrival of Islara and then a dragon of all things was on cue, as unexpected of a manner of a rescue as it was. It seemed the last vestiges of Roland Corrin were still hanging on—here to enact some manner of revenge for the dead duke. This was also quickly beginning to become out of hand as she watched the butchery of the Queen’s knights. Taking in the scene, as her eyes flicked towards the Queen, then Vulluin, she made a quick decision. She leaned over to Minuette at her side, whispering. “Do not interfere when it comes to Duke Willowsteel. However,” she commanded, before raising her voice to be properly heard, “See to it the Queen is protected.” For a brief moment, Minuette gave her lady a questioning look, before inclining her head a fraction as she rose, drawing her sword. Mirie’s attention was drawn back towards the crowd—Vulluin’s magic had dispersed much of the initial rioting, but the appearance of the Duke’s would be rescuers was beginning to reinvigorate those committed to his cause. She remained in her seat, not to intervene personally, but she kept up her shield for the benefit of those still in the stands. Minuette had taken two of the duchess’s lifeguard, and appearing next to Sir Hayworth, arrived in time to even the odds. In contrast to Mirie’s knights, with their maidish accoutrements that made them stand out as Mirie’s, she was dressed as a proper countess for this outing, but was still not a woman to be underestimated herself. “It would appear you would have things in hand,” she greeted, complementing her counterpart’s guesswork as she took a guarding position. “But when it comes to the safety of her majesty, it is better to be safe than sorry, no?”