Despite the danger he was in, the nervousness that could grip a man and make one frozen on the spot, Neil had to admit he really, really liked a good chase. For one, his legs were quite long. Not as a nice as green-eye's upstairs, but they were good for sprinting. That, and it was his general experience that most people simply did not take care of themselves. Running a mile was a day's work and leaping over a balustrade was a fever dream, and even the ones that did make good time still had to keep on him. 

Neil knew where he needed to go, at least with relative confidence. And even if he was cut off, there was a secondary entrance below, in cell A24 where he had escaped from not an hour ago. The problem with that was he would need to bluff his way past two checkpoints of security, so that was for last resort. Instead, Neil careened down a long gallery, wind whipping his hair and tie as he ran. [i]In fact, frak the tie[/i]. The color clashed with his belt anyway, and he tossed it into an adjacent room on the left to confuse them, right at the feet of an adeptus sororitas saint of some name before he sprinted right down a corridor. The manor opened up, it's light colors turning warmer, red banners framing a great hall where a few of the more elderly and ambitious guests, unaware of the commotion upstairs, had met for more quiet conversation.

Neil stopped sprinting just at the cusp of the great hall, fixing his hair, but everyone had noticed him by that point. The guests in their suits and the servants in their livery and silver trays of porcelain. Neil stood there awkwardly for a moment, before clapping his hands together once. 

"Attention everyone! There is a fire!... The arbites are coming here to escort you out, but there's only a few shuttles leaving the gate. Best petition them when they arrive." He said, before picking up speed again and sprinting out of the room. That ought to buy him a moment or two of time, he thought. Unfortunately, as he passed the great hall and made it to the lobby, he saw armed men in unmarked flaks and visored helms already rushing up the flagstones out of the baroque window framing the door. If he stepped one foot out of the mansion, he would be detained or shot. He spun around, only to be confronted by a household guardsman. 

It was surreal. Neil saw him notice the small-time Rogue Trader, and as if the world slowed down, he saw the barrel of his submachine rose. Neil could pull his sidearm like zephyr, but he had the shock baton in his hand. He knew he couldn't fire on him, and so he thumbed the shock baton and slung it at the man's head. It spun end over end and struck him in the face with the force-charge. There was a loud, disgustingly wet squelch as his faced literally popped in a pile of blood. Neil grit his teeth like he noticed a coagulation of roadkill, and then ran past him. Another security guard rounded the corner, but he was stunned at the sight of his bloodied companion, and due to his crouch and his pause, the next sight he got was Neil's boot in his face, launching the rogue trader over him to reach the marble floor.

He sprinted past the way he had come, only passing the entryway to the great hall and rushing up a sweeping central stairway decked with a red carpet. Above, a crystal chandelier shimmered, casting the vast portrait of Auclair's distant ancestor above in a flecked storm of light and shadow. Two smaller steps went left and right, Neil turned right and then pivoted into a library. Behind him, he could hear a number of boots thundering up the stairs. He raised an eyebrow, was the gemstone bugged? Did someone bug his suit? He whipped his head left and right, the room full of towering bookcases and tall casement windows, handsomely furnished with desks and wooden chairs decked with soft cushions. The tables were decks with tablecloths and candles, likely only used for show.

"Oh, solves everything," Neil remarked sardonically, pulling his autogun and firing four times at the closest window, cracking the glass. He then grabbed a chair by it's back, spun and tossed it at the window, shattering it. As the shouting grew louder, Neil had to grin. Granted, he was not supposed to be up there, by why follow if Neil would have to go down again anyway? He ripped the red velvet tablecloth out, the candles wobbling but staying up. He grinned. "[b]Nice[/b]." Wrapping the cloth up to a smaller, thicker cloth just as the arbites and guardsmen hustled in, some getting on their knees and raising their firearms and others standing tall behind their comrades, all happening right when Neil stepped up to the pane. 

"Freeze Edwards!" One of them bellowed. Neil blinked. Unless Rasa spoke to everyone, he doubted they would know his real name. Maybe they were talking about the Orb. He didn't have the time to consider it, though. 

"Sorry fellas, gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat." Neil declared, before he stepped backwards and dropped like an anvil. Even the hardened guardsmen gasped, and they sprinted to the edge of the window. They saw Neil sliding off the verdant bushes just below the three story drop, the carpet hanging from a pipe he used to slow his fall. He left his jacket there as well, in case it was bugged like he suspected. The last they saw of Neil, he was rushing to the eastwall. 

Neil himself ran into the car tunnel beneath the wall, where the underground gateway was located. That was suicide, of course. However, he opened up a door forty meters in that led into the sewers, that would feed into the abandoned Undercity beneath Chateau Aclair and the greater city surrounding the manor. Unfortunately (and fortunately), there were eyes that watched him.