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𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Lucius Delacroix

---

Lucius felt the relative urge to simply collapse and rest. The strenous aches and fatigue plaguing through his body were near as great as the fire burning through his pounding chest. He had given everything to simply commit to their renewed survival and found a tempting urge to simply surrender himself to Yadin-Hamon and Athirat's kingdom above. His sights swept towards the raging inferno, the shades as well as the dead and dying. His labored steps carried him through the screeching shade covered stairs. The girl that leaned into him, his Assassin companion, the unconscious Councillor Gisgo, and the Valanian resistance leaders that had begun to gather under the pulsating shaded ceilings. Elsewhere, his eyes swept towards the remaining, hardened Nezamnis that had already regrouped and carried their wounded towards the stairwell.

If it ended here, what would he tell his holy father and mother upon arriving to their kingdom? What would justify what had come of the Delacroix family and how would he justify his actions? How would he explain himself and how he and the last of his line carried themselves during their last moments? Certainly, they would judge him for how quickly Valania had devolved from an age old realm to a debauched wasteland only fit for the treacherous highborns and their ruthless pickings. Nothing would have come of his sacrifices, the shattered Valanian kingdom's suffering, and the injustices that had followed the War.

The manner in which the Château burned proved just how far the vile reaches petty Sarifen aristocrats turned to achieve their means. To this end, it seemed likely he would die a broken man of a dead lineage. It was how the Prince of the fabled jewelled Principality of Kronzewall, the proud Seville's of the now shattered city-states of Tyrun, the successors of Folken the Great, and countless others throughout what was known as the Age of Nobility. If a live existence could present a case, the fallen retinue that had accompanied Councillor Gisgo was the display of how power had surrounded each civilization's aristocratic order. The few ruled over the many and seized the finest riches as long as illusion, prestige, and rewards followed in their wake. For all it was worth, he, Lucius Delacroix, Prince of Valania and heir to the throne had once commanded an entire Kingdom before his fall from grace by the hands of others.

His face quickly became covered in ash as he moved his way down the cellar steps, carrying Ona through the thickened haze of grey smoke. Cries for help amongst the Valanian resistance rang out and the few remaining leaders that had managed to survive the collapse quickly made their way under the pulsating shades to find cover. As Lucius moved his way downwards, smoke began to cloud a debris strew opening where flames began to emerge and lick through openings along the battered cellar ceiling beams. The staircase chamber roared from behind as the blazes of the raging inferno burst into hungry flames and suffocating fumes. The air grew thin as many of the chamber's occupants began to cough and sputter from expanding clouds of immense grey fog. Through sputtered coughs, Lucius violently slammed into the walls before shouting, “Bâtards consanguines! To hell with them for trying to burn us alive!”

“Magi,” Lucius panted as his eyes swept away from the bald headed man's corpse and back towards the mysterious armored man, “I did not even catch your name. When time is permitted, perhap you can offer it.”

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Mizvot Ivalis

---

“Councillor Gisgo,” the light haired Ivalian, Barekbaal throatily addressed through sputtered coughs, “The fates are against us and delaying any further will mean everything we've done was for nothing. There ...”

Tears began streaming down the Dorkim Kdoshim's face as she offered the Councillor a hug, “There is no other way.”

“Barekbaal, no!” the Councillor screamed in horror, “Please!I forbid it. I … under authoritative Median torat...”

Her words trailed off into mindless gibberish as she began to hack into uncontrollable fits. Through labored attempts to stifle her tears, Barekbaal bravely repositioned along the debris along the upper staircase and shouted, “As an authoritative figure of the Dorkim Ivalis Kdoshim Aloophim, this situation overrides the Median torat and has forced the decision of toph to safely ensure that a Ivalian Councillor of the Four Hundred and Four returns to Midia to warn the Queen and the Council of Four and Four of Sarife's treachery. I, Barekbaal of the Ivalis Kdosim, invoke Topheth in accordance with the Queen's decree, the Shophet's ten commandments, and Athirat's holy acceptance in preservation of the Council of Four Hundred and Four!”

Sorrowfully, the surviving Ivalians, both aristocratic and bourgeoisie alike gathered near the center and began to repeatedly chant an odd and somber prayer, “We worship Athirat who presides over our beautiful Ivalis, in that we may have come hither with good omen as to this business of our own; on which we have come. Blessings and prosperity, ye Mother Athirat! Live forever and grant us your wise guidance; in that you may permit us to join our ancestors and family while our sacrifice keeps our peoples safe.”

The females amongst the Ivalian lot formed together into a circle around the beleaguered Councillor and embraced in comfort while the men offered a synchronous humming mantra. The light haired Barekbaal quickly made her way around the assembly and passionately embraced lips with each lady whilst brushing the men with kisses along both the cheeks. This followed with a harmonious acapella between the high pitched ladies and the soft, low pitched chanting men.

The embraces quickly ended, where upon, Barekbaal disrobed and made her way around the circle in a frenzied sprint. Through each passing lap, the chanting grew louder while articulations hastened in enunciations. Each round, marked another rapid incantational elevation and louder came each chant until soon the sprinting Barekbaal began to sweep around the circle in a display of near impossible physique. The voices all spoke in complete unison and in a blinding rush, the Councillor wailed loudly as a large and thunderous boom engulfed the entire chamber in a large and deafening crack. Chanting furious, the Ivalians rose as one and completely disrobed as a red pillar of fire ejected down upon the bawling Councillor before splintering off into separate streams upon each Ivalian's chest.

All at once, the Ivalians lurched forwards as one and all at once, many terrifying, ear-splitting screeches burst overhead. Within several moments, each Ivalian, save the Councillor, toppled to floor amidst the continuous, deafening shrieks. A strange sight soon followed suit as large grey shades emerged out of each Ivalian and split off in every direction; many rushing into the walls and ceilings to push aside the licking flames and fumes. Elsewhere, several shades rapidly rushed through the walls where moments later, ghastly screams and curses could be heard from the distant Chateau outskirts occupied by the Sarifen conscripts. Wincing through the deafening screeches, Lucius agonizingly lifted his ailing Al Mayrin companion off her feet and shouted heavily for the others to follow as he maneuvered through the windswept opening leading down into the cellars ...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Château de D'Aubigne – Staircase Chamber - Noble's Quarter

---

Within moments, the surviving guests and remaining Nezamnissaries rushed across the hallways to unleash rampant death upon the doomed Baktrian Azads and their Zhayedan retinues. During the engagement's dramatic turning points, the Prince lost his balance and fell backwards against the crumbled debris where he once again found himself alongside a familiar companion's location. His lungs burned while his body ached in near indescribable conditions … and yet ... his hand managed to gently brush against his Al Mayrin companion's forehead. Ona's pale complexion, weakened motions, and labored breaths were clear signs of the girl's condition; however, given his lack of elemental or medicinal prowess, he could do little in the realms of physical treatment to remedy her deteriorating state of mind. Any direct treatment attempt would shatter her concentration and expose their locations into Conqvist's seer's vision.

Lucius wearily spun around and barely managed to raise his pistol as he was cut in mid-sentence by nearby movement. The large debris that lay near Ona shuddered to unveil a hand that began to emerge through the planks, wood, and marble. As the rubble scattered aside, the large Al Mayrin rose and bellowed in agony as both arms shot into the air. Several large screams echoed through the chambers as the man, though impaled through the chest, languishingly clasped his head. His eyes winced as blood streamed down his eyes and nose before groaning brought the man to his knees. His giant hands wrapped around the green eyed Al Mayrin's soft hands and through sputtered coughs of blood, weakly wheezed, “There ... the other magician … she … she ... won't ... trouble us ... any ... longer.”

Through incredibly labored pants, the man bellowed loudly and collapsed to his side, attracting the remaining Valanian leaders to his side. “My time has passed, brother and sister V..Valanians! Do … do not waste your … stamina,” he wheezed as his hands emptied an object into the blonde, Al Mayrin's palms, “I … I do not even know your name, but I know that we … are of one blood. The Nurlia … need a leader and your aura … is strong. I can feel it and … perhaps ... as a free Kanal … you will find a way to guide our … dwindling tribes ... our dwindling people ... to ... the...”

Grimacing, the man exhaled softly and slowly slumped over before falling completely motionless. His eyes stared aimlessly and brought a lingering silence throughout the staircase chamber. Some time afterwards, a hand gently wrapped around Ona's shoulder before a sympathetic sigh and quiet murmurs followed suit. Having achieved several devastating small-arms fatalities against the Baktrian Azads and their accompanying Zhayedans, chants rang out across the staircase as each present leader of the surviving Valanian circles kneeled to offered traditional Augurian prayers as was customarily reserved for the old Valanian Kingdom's heroes and martyrs.

“Ona, don't look,” Lucius softly remarked whilst comfortingly wrapping both arms around the girl's shoulders, “We can't do anything for him now. Best let it be and rest yourself...”

Ona did not think the sight of the man would ever leave her brain. It was burned there, permanently. The feel of his hands around hers. The way the pressure of the other seer suddenly went away.

She didn’t even look to see what he had put in her hands. She had heard his words but she couldn’t concentrate on them.

She was free of the woman, free of the other presence. They were safe to run, to leave this place.

All that was left now though was immeasurable sorrow. She didn't think she had the energy or will to run. Lucius held her, urged her not to look. Her body was so exhausted, her mind equally so. Her heart was filled with sadness, with loss.

Her head rested against Lucius. There were voices speaking prayers, things she did not know or understand but recognized as sacred.

They were praying for him, for one of her people. Had he been their friend? Had he been one of them, a brother in arms?

It seemed that way. That made Ona’s heart hurt even more. His one last act was to help her, to help them all.

Her hands still clutched what he had put there. Her body leaned heavily into Lucius ...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Château de D'Aubigne – Staircase Chamber - Noble's Quarter

---

All at once, explosions and crippling small-arms viciously tore through the fully strengthed Sarifen battalion amidst a sea of several dozen, screaming Nezamni voices. The seemingly impenetrable wall of Sarifen steel shattered as limbs and innards ripped apart and scattered the many armored Sarifens like rag dolls. The various remaining Zhayedans' cohesion began to fragment in confusion, panic, and disorder as an aristocratic gentleman and various wounded Nezam warriors began to methodically pick off the surviving Azad officers with near-impossible accuracy.

Independently, potency proved questionable, but together, the fatalities sung a chorus in the form of well-placed grenadier volleys and alarmingly precise marksmanship that completely dismantled the formidable Sarifen formations. Too late did the over-zealous Azads fully grasp their glaring, tactical failures before they found themselves a victim of their own successes; in mere minutes, victory became defeat as their attempts to form another rear facing, shield wall ultimately proved futile against the wave of Nezamnis crashing against their rear ranks.

All the same, another large deafening commotion resonated from further down the hallway in what resembled several, nearly deafening chimes. The source soon became evident as a large gaping hole smashed through the caved in debris to unveil a large, albeit ruined harpsichord. Emerging through the gap, Dae and various other surviving banquet guests of differing allegiances seemed to have spared no liberties in exploiting the keyboarded instrument as a battering ram; after which the motley gathering wasted no time in ferociously rushing across the hallway to launch a determined, counter-attack.

In a moment it was all over as both Nezams and Banquet Survivors enclosed upon the over-confident Azad-Zhayedan ranks and cut them down them to a mere man. Battered, bloodied, and outnumbered, the Nezams suffered immense casualties, many of whom fought to the death. In hindsight, however, the crippling blows inflicted upon the now decimated Sarifen battalions, Paighan elements, and their Azad shock-troopers overwhelmingly exceeded their own as was evidenced through the macabre heaps of mangled, defiled, and utterly broken bodies littering across the entire hallway's length. Amongst the many hundreds of fallen Azads' aristocratic numbers, many included the Houses of Baktria and its client vassals.

As Lucius wearily moved to reload his firearms, the walls suddenly shook again as dust and debris showered over their heads. A fresh barrage had begun anew, however, the intensity had seemingly devolved into something that seemed much less maddening or ferocious. One reality stood true and it was that they were still surrounded on all directions, and with no end in sight ...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Hey all! Happy holidays to you all because it's 6 days before Christmas!

Just wanted to let you all know that we've fully caught up with all our collaborations and will be moving the story either Sunday or at the latest, Monday. There's a lot of ground to wrap up and as you've all noticed, there's quite a bit of content to chew through. Episode 1 is close to reaching a conclusion and aside from the delays and decidedly slow pacing, this scene's conclusion has been long overdue. I've made a decision to shorten posting length so that the content is digestible, doesn't strike everyone with the case of tldr and delivers openings that allow other characters to intervene, interact with each other as well as with other independent or minor characters.

As you all well know, the past half dozen – dozen posts have all accumulated over the past 5 – 6 months and … though there's been stretches between collaborations and post cycles, we've made amazing progress in that we are nearing the conclusion of Episode 1: In Fine Principium and Absolutum Dominium! Episode 2 will begin soon after we wrap up Episode 1 and there will be interesting developments and opportunities to explore the city as well as certain areas of interest within the story.

Overtime, I will also be gradually updating the character tab so that we can a) All repost our character sheets, b) Gain access to valuable character references, and c) Access information about independent and minor characters. New characters will be introduced as the story expands into later episodes and chapters where several important independent individuals of interest will be marked for reference if anyone wishes for their character to interact and drastically impact the story.

If any of you have any questions, thoughts, concerns, and/or simply want to initiate a collaboration, you know where to reach me via PM or Skype!

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Château de D'Aubigne Interior Hallway - Noble's Quarter

---

Lucius opened his mouth to speak and only managed to blink before screams rang out from behind and ultimately forcing a decision to immediately drop to the floor. His eyes darted as he scrambled to discern the commotion before ultimately resting upon a small assembly of fellow Valanian fighters armed with an assortment of firearms and blades. The men and women unloaded a devastating volley upon approaching Sarifen shield wall before retreating back towards the staircase and a quick glance towards the wounded, dead, and dying was all the Prince required to assess the unfolding situation. The gunpowder smoke clouds had begun to cloud the vicinity while the screams and cries for help filled the air.

Once again, Lucius glanced towards Ona, Dae, and the survivors gathered along the stairwell and across the expansive, grand staircase room before diverting his eyes towards the hallway where thick fighting had exploded into absolute chaos. Pools of blood slickened against the walls and marble grounds as stray bodies littered the floors. His heart began to sink as a sudden and dishearteningly explicable realization struck his senses. They were completely and utterly trapped and there seemed no way out from this nearly inescapable. Following a moment of silence, the Prince's gaze rested upon the seasoned retainer before placing a hand along the man's shoulder.

“Balthazar,” he firmly answered, “Your resolve is unquestioned, however, if you aren't already aware, we are completely surrounded. Escaping into hordes of angry Sarifen men at arms or hails of Sarifen arrow and shot is not how I envision ending our evening!”

It was upon that moment that a violent creaking sound errupted from above and before the Prince could speak any further, his eyes darted above as the roof and wooden beams collapsed upon the staircase, crushing most Ivalian, Sarifens, and Valanian survivors residing upon the debris strewn stairways. His eyes widened as more beams and planks collapsed into crumbling heap and in a instinctual, split second decision wrapped his arms around the seasoned, Delacroix royal guardian and heaved the man backwards just as the sharpened debris came crashing upon their location. The manuever just barely managed to rip the two to safety, but not before the Prince suffered the worst of the brunt of the debris as wooden planks, marble, stone, and glass poured over his body.

Groaning, Lucius raised an arm and grew increasingly slow to rise before glancing towards the massive wall of debris that had caved in towards the staircase where the others awaited. It did not take long before he realized that they were trapped and completely separated from the others and through coughs and sputters, the Prince just managed to duck again as the Château shook again, spraying dust, marble, and wooden splinters over their heads. Some paces ahead, the Nezam Warriors held, however, their lines had begun to buckle as the sheer weight of the Paighan soldiers smashed against them with such unrelenting ferocity that small gaps had begun to form. The trailing Zhayedan and Azads drove a wedge through the new opened holes to exploit the exposed flanks situated near several isolated Nezams where casualties slowly began to mount.

“If we are to clear a path, we will do so with every card in our sleeve,” he cried through gritted teeth, “Follow my lead, give no quarter, and if we must fight alongside the Nezams, so be it!”

Steel glinted as he immediately drew his sword and retrieved a stray buckler from ground before preparing to rush into the thicket to intercept the oncoming shock troopers. Lucius dove into a crouched roll to parry a swing before dispatching the Paighan through the throat. Before blood even hit the ground, the Prince had already sent the doomed conscript crashing towards a pack of retainers before bashing another conscript in the face. The blow sent the man careening backwards, freeing a wounded Nezam a critical window to dispatch his foes and plug a gaping hole within his comrades' buckling line.

A horn sounded and suddenly the conscripts retreated behind a solid shield wall formed by heavily armored retainers and their household Azad commanders. The shield wall quickly advanced in unison before smashing into the Nezam line with such ferocity that many Nezams lost their footing. Heavy casualties began to mount as the outnumbered Nezams, armed with only their curved swords, large bucklers, and emptied snaphaunce rifled muskets fought tooth and nail against a well disciplined tide of steel and deadly butchery that only granted momentary survival against mortal odds.

Lucius struggled immensely against the wall of shields and lethal retainers that began to cut down the weary Nezams and any that stood in their way. There would be nothing that stood between the shield walls and the surviving banquet guests and as Nezam warriors began to fall, the inevitable reality that they would all be massacred within Voltas had begun to set into stone. His lungs burned and his arms ached. More fallen comrades, more dishonor brought against innocents, and repeated injustices committed against bystanders that impeded various ruthless and power mongers.

Frowning, Lucius rose and returned to his fighting stance only Vectisian Legionaries exhibited amidst the steady and controlled advance of the heavily armored Azads with shields locked and a ferocious chant that filled the air. Fighting grew thick as more Nezams were knocked to their feet, however even as they fell, the Nezams stood forth and fought to the death without giving an inch of ground. Without heavy, steel-plated armor, munitions, shields, or numbers, even the best training and iron willed resolve could only momentarily stem the tide before the pushing power of several dozen disciplined Azads and their steel-wrapped, Zhayedan retainers brought about the inevitable.

The Prince gathered his wits, stepped into an opening within the Nezam lines, and repositioned, shield first even as his body ached and screamed for respite from almost every conceivable way, shape, and form. He would not fall and allow the Sarifens to take him alive even as exhaustion and pain ached across Lucius' entire body. There was little he could do as he attempted to hold his own alongside the Nezamnis given his back neared the wall and without knowing how Dae or the others fared, he knew that his fate lay in a narrowing display of strength of arms. Through sweeping squints, his eyes strayed to a man he had long thought dead and in the din of battle, he watched as Balthazar advanced into the thick of battle. Men he had sworn to murder whenever the opportunities presented themselves fought alongside him to stem the advancing Sarifen shock troops.

To this end, the instincts he had gained through years of running from Emperor Bahramesh's Sipahis and surviving Vectis' brutal Legionary training resurfaced to bring an understanding that most professional soldiers and fighting men implemented during extremely volatile, life-or-death engagements. The struggle would not end until either he or his enemies fell and all around, the Nezamni line slowly began to wither under the impenetrable, Sarifen shield wall. The plate armored Azads and their veteran Zhayedans were relentless as they claimed more and more Nezams to their furious assault.

Lucius' attempts to stem the opening pockets along his flanks only delayed the inevitable as he furiously lunged into his collapsing perimeter to pierce numerous exposed Zhayedan shield carriers that advanced past his flanks. His sword thrusts and stiff striking techniques happened more times than he could count and before he could even blink, he too fell as something struck his face. In a flash, stars exploded across his vision as several grim-faced, shield carrying Azads closed in all sides. Gasping, his throat burned and his head spun, yet his sword drove skywards and into the chin of an oncoming Zhayedan before more shields crashed against his body ...

---

...except they did not. Mostly.

Balthazar stood his ground as a heavy shield slammed into his raised hands, pushing his feet backwards against the debris from the cannon fire. With gritted teeth, he pushed back against this lone soldier, even as the others fought around him. The soldier tried to fight against the push, but his unwavering strength did not yield, making the man fall off balance as Balthazar stepped forward. With sword in hand and his other free, he grabbed one side of the offender's shield and yanked it aside, stepping forward as he shoved his blade into the soft spot of his armor.

The soldier grunted and screamed as the once-knight twisted the heavy blade within his gut and withdrew the sword, his free hand grabbing onto the shield as the now lifeless soldier slumped to the ground. He yanked it from the dead man's arm and stood firm, even as the Azads readied for another push. The soldiers poured in from the sides, forcing Balthazar back to protect the Prince. With shield raised he blocked an oncoming blow and sliced the neck of the one responsible, and with another stroke he parried a swing and bashed a soldier's face with his shield. Weary but determined to keep the Prince alive, he stood his ground, shield up and sword raised and ready.

"Balthazar," Lucius wheezed, through heavily labored gasps. Utterly fatigued and out of breath, the Valanian royal heir stumbled and desperately clambered to his feet to support the grizzled Delacroix retainer in battle, "Seems my ancestors have sent you to watch over me ... if only for a moment ... and I intend to make good on their generosity!"

"Sentiments shared, my lord, sentiments shared. I'm sure your father is watching over you even as we fight."

Balthazar lent a hand to the Prince, lifting him up bodily so they stood side by side. There was a fire in the young man that was yet unquenched, one of bravery and fortitude even in the darkest of hours. Thus was the heart and soul of the Delacroix family. It inspired those around them, as he had witnessed when King Lothair was on the throne.Balthazar stopped a downward chop with his shield and impaled the offender on the tip of his scmitar, before withdrawing the blade as the corpse fell aside. He gave an aside glance to Lucius as he readied his sword again. He was determined to keep this man alive, now that he'd finally found him.

"Come, my liege. Let us power through these rabble and get you to safety!" Curses erupted to their left as a Nezamnissary warrior brutally dispatched an advancing shield carrying Zhayedan, gutted another in the heart, and slammed yet another household retainer to the ground before his face caved into a swift blow to a spiked hammer and dozens of sword stabs. Stepping forward, the Prince moved to extend his flank only to find the hammer carrying soldier swing in a powerful display of force that nearly smashed the Prince upon the wall had his sword not whistled down into a wide cleaving arc upon the Sarifen's bicept. As blood gushed out and slicked across the floors, another Zhayedan took his place to patch the line.

Through a magnanimous roar, the Prince doggedly dodged a Zhayedan's forward thrust and parried before lunching forwards into a counter thrust to pierce the assaulting Azad's neck. Through a heavy grunt, the Prince winced as his ribs ached and his lungs burned for air. Even as blood trails gushed out of the aristocrat's throat, Lucius wasted no time in readjusting his shield, stepping forward to plug the gap whilst anchoring alongside his determined companion's side.

This compounded further into a two pronged maneuver where his hands seized an incoming Zhayedan's long beard before reeling the soldier forward into Balthazar's awaiting blade. Severe casualties began to mount amongst the thinning Nezamnissary and soon the two found themselves surrounded and backs against the walls with no other direction for retreat. Thrust after counter-thrust occurred in the savage struggle of arms in a display that would put most soldiers to shame.

As one, Prince and Retainer fought side by side against a slow moving tide of moving, glinting steel while the walls sprayed saw dust and debris over their heads. They were in this until the end when the pushing power, fresh soldiers, and wall of steel overwhelmed their position. It was only a matter of time before they would all fall to the sword as did all who opposed Sarifen authority. Shouting, Lucius barely managed to reposition his shield in time to block the soldier's fresh push. His will remained unquestioned, however his muscles could no longer muster the energy to confront the Sarifen battalion's immense pushing power.The end was near and in a moment that very well could have been his last, offered his companion a weary, respectful nod.

"I'm sorry, Balthazar, however, I'm afraid we've met our end!" the Prince cried as he moved desparately to stave off multiple Zhayedans' sword swings, "Remember me when we reach to the Halls above. Vive la Valaniaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!"

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Château de D'Aubigne Interior - Noble's Quarter

---

Through sheer instinctual reflexes, the officer ducked as a shot rang out over his head from Lucius' direction. A moment later, a lifeless and bloodied body flew upon the officer, provoking his rage as he savagely hurled the heavy corpse upon the bloodied floors. The uniformed men formed ranks and prepared to assemble another firing line only to hear deafening roars elevate from nearby. The sounds that resembled shattered ceramics, groaning wood, and expansive whistles followed suit as large spherical objects burst through the walls and into the main lobbies and occupied hallways. Panic and hysteria filled the halls as various members of the guests and performers alike were ripped limb from limb.

Panting, Lucius gaped as he watched the walls rattle with savage fervor and through the shouts and disarray, found his eyes stray towards a shudder along a particular segment of the ceiling. Moments later, the beams completely collapsed, bringing the timbers crashing down upon the floor. Dust and debris showered upon the collective parties as they scrambled for dear life and through the corner of his eyes, the Prince once again gaped as the Nezam Warriors calmly held position to form a static firing line.

Their steel eyed expressions and unwavering discipline became a sight of awe as their firearms came ablaze in rippling salvos towards the sea of intruders advancing towards their location. Even as cannon balls whistled from above, the Nezam Warriors held formation as they raked the intruders with volley after volley of deadly, musket fire.

His attention suddenly diverted further along the murderous hallway where the collapsed ceiling remains began to clear. Three, dust covered figures emerged from the debris and amidst the murderous fire pouring across the hallways, one dark haired man groaned as he dragged his companion forward before slowly flopping upon the carpeted floors. Another bald headed man emerged, ashen faced and bloodied, yet remarkably unharmed. Coughing, the balded man rushed towards the other two, only to trip upon a lifeless body and roll past their locations. The Prince's eyes widened in shock as he found himself staring upon two remarkably familiar faces he had not gazed upon since the Kingdom's final hours.

The ceiling suddenly shuddered again as the dark haired man fumbled across the body strew hallway under immense musket balls, crossbow, and hand cannon fire. The fanatical intruders that swarmed across the hallways and over their companions' bodies, carried assorted banners hailing across various Sarifen noble houses. Their determined assaults across the hallways were met with relentlessly precise Nezam volleys and yet even as they fell into the droves, their unyielding onslaught continued at their household Azads' urging.

"So this is my final service to Lothair, the Kingdom, and the Delacroix family? So be it," the dark haired man grunted following repeated attempts to rise! His face became pale as his breaths grew more and more labored. His eyes suddenly darted towards a nearby deafening commotion and through pained motions, found himself staring upon a swarm of battle-frenzied Paighans charging towards his location. Wincing, the man glanced down to find several crossbow bolts riddling across his chest and legs. He managed to crawl several backward paces before the Chateau shook again. A moment later, the ceiling collapsed yet again, bringing heavy debris crashing upon his location. Shortly before the hallway littered in dust, wooden beams, and marble; the man somehow managed to push his companion away.

"Go Balthasar!" he loudly exclaimed as Paighan conscripts neared, "I will tell King Lothair, Athirat, and Yadin-Hamon of your deeds, however, one of us must live, now please just go you imbecile!!"

Through gritted teeth, Lucius crawled forwards and offered his companion a reassuring pat before hissing, “Ona, stay here! I believe I recognize those men and they need our assistance. Should I fall, you must not come after me and do as Dae tells you. She will know what must be done and will remain as your only friend here in Voltas.”

Ona struggled to look at Lucius. The other seer's pressing mental strength held less vigor, but Ona felt as if perhaps there was a small chance the woman might break first. She just had to be strong. Her eyes focused on Lucius for the briefest moment, green orbs turned to stare into his eyes.

"Be careful," he heard her remark.

Frowning at Lucius' words Dae nonetheless moved slightly closer to Ona, pistol drawn as she crouched beside the other woman. Staying alert her eyes moved from Lucius to their surroundings. She was ready to fight any that came near.

A weak smile escaped the Prince's lip before he quickly dove into a rolled crouch whilst unveiling his pistol. Crossbow bolts and musket rounds flew over head where several lucky shots managed to fell and wound a handful of Nezam Warriors. He managed to crawl several paces until he heard loud screams bellow from behind. Without thinking, the Prince fell flat and rolled upon his backside before unveiling his other pistol.

He spun just in time to find a large porcelain carrying Valanian leap over and sprint past the trio with a pack of Valanians and a sparking rope trailing in his wake. As his Valanian companions dove for cover, the man burst across the hallway entrance, earning pause within the Nezams whilst redirecting the Paighan levies to redirect their fire upon him. Relentless arrow and musket fire continually raked the man, provoking screams of pain and agony, yet his legs impossibly continued onwards towards the charging Paighans in a catatonic, frenzied rage.

The explosion that resulted, shrouded the Paighan lines with such tremendous force that the entire Château rattled in most violent vigor. Further down the hallway, the Paighan advance completed halted as body parts, blood, and debris scouring their lines left the survivors reeling with shock and disbelief towards the deaths of so many of comrades. The Valanians spared no pleasantries in fulfilling their intended goal to wreck the Sarifens; inspiring the men and women to assemble and offer blistering pistol fire upon the Paighans whilst several members pulled and pried the trio away from the rubble. Their efforts delivered a malicious blow upon the Paighans, forcing a hasty retreat.

Sometime later, the Valanians retreated back towards the staircase as the reformed Nezam lines advanced to offer their own deadly volleys upon the fleeing Paighan rabble. One particular man trailing some ways behind his Valanian companions halted short of the staircase before his gaze fell upon Ona. A peculiar expression engulfed his face and following a short gape, a smile reached his lips.

The man's pupilless eyes took upon the kindest, most sincere gaze before a strange dialect escaped his lips, "And to think that I was one of the last Al Mayrin left in this beautiful, yet tragic continent."

The words hit Ona's ears and she turned, finding energy she did not know she had left in her to find the source. She found the man her own pupilless eyes finding his. "Could it be?"

She felt the other seer push against her mental barriers and Ona had to focus once more. She took a deep breath in and braced herself. She had lost track of Lucius but there was not time to try and find him in the chaos. There was too much she needed to do already.

Dae eyed the other man suspiciously, disliking this strange language with which Ona and him conversed. However she made no moves to kill him as he did not seem to have the intent to attack them.

The Château walls rattled once again as cannon balls smashed through the walls and through the interior rooms. His eyes suddenly glanced towards the staircase where groans, sobs, and wails from the surviving guests instigated a furious expression that quickly transcended to sadness. A moment later, his hand gently fell upon the seer's forehead where a sigh escaped his lips.

"There aren't many of us left and I wonder if my Valanian brethren were right to have chosen me over their own to lead one of their many men."

As the world shook around her and in her mind the barriers were pushed against Ona forgot about it all as the man's hand went to her forehead. She wished she had the strength, wished she had the time to speak to him more. It was not to be.

The man suddenly gasped upon witnessing the Château rattle yet again and before he could rise any further, a large wall section smashed away into a downward spiral upon their location. Cries of warning escaped the surviving guests as wood, marble, stone, and glass collapsed upon Ona and the Mayrin man's location, however, the man managed to thrust the girl away before sharpened debris buried upon him.

Ona fell to the ground, shoved away as the wall collapsed. Her mind gave for a moment as fear and anguish set in.

"No!" She turned, crawling to the spot where the man had once stood, where they had both once stood before the wall fell. How could this be? How was he here? Why? And now, to be gone?

Ona tried to pry up the debris with her hands in an attempt to find him when pain ripped through her body. The other seer was breaking through. Ona's hands went to her head and she curled up in a ball, a scream on her lips that was drowned out by the noise around her.

"No!"

All her energy was put back into keeping the other out. Every last ounce of herself was thrust forward to keep the seer out. She felt the woman waiver on the other side. If they would break she could be free. The world was crumbling around her as she lay on the ground but it had no effect on her.

She felt a loss for a man she did not know. In her mind, she remained locked in a battle of mental wills that continually forced her into a fight for her life.

"Ona!" Lucius screamed, "Are you alr..."

In mid-sentence, his words became drowned out as his attention diverted yet again. The Chateau suddenly shuddered again as the interior walls splintered apart in a sea of debris. Another explosion rocked the hallways as loud battlecries echoed from down the riddled hallway ruins. Orders flew down the Nezam lines and in short order, they quickly reformed to meet yet another determined thrust by another swarm of screaming Paighan conscripts.

Dae turned slightly at Ona's scream, glancing over the seer who seemed to be locked in a mental battle of sorts. She barely understood what was going on there. However, she would do what she could to keep Ona alive. If only that idiot Lucius had not ran off to save whoever those people were! What they needed to do right now was get out of here.

The battle cries grew louder as Paighans swarmed into the Nezam lines with incredible ferocity. In their wake stood men much more properly clad in heavily plated armor coated in ornate decorations. Alongside the plated shock, colorful banners flew into the ceiling, announcing the arrival of various Household Zhayedans and their Azads aristocrats. Without thinking, Lucius leaped into a crouched roll as his eyes strayed towards the bodies of several fallen Paighans and retainers littering the floor. His hands found a bloodied snaplock musket and without thinking further, hurled the weapon towards Dae's direction.

"Oy Dae," he shouted, "Catch!"

Raising an eyebrow slightly, Dae quickly put away the pistol she had drawn in time to catch the musket thrown at her. Inspecting the weapon she gave a slight nod in Lucius' direction. Well, their chances of survival had just increased somewhat. A good gun was always useful. Moving position she raised the musket, prepared to shoot any the came near ...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Horse Thieves' Trail - Voltisian Alleyways – Merchant's Quarter

---

The city streets had long since emptied after reports of widespread armed conflict errupted between the Emperor's fabled Nezamnissaries and the combined Paighan-Sipahi regiments lead by numerous aristocratic Azads. An order to restore peace and quickly martially the reserves from the Auxiliaries and the City Garrison, where men took to the walls to establish a symbolic display of law and order under the Lord Sovereign's autonomy whilst the entire Crown Watch largely remained stationed around the Royal Palace given how volatile one section of the noble's quarter had become. Various light flashes and thundering booms echoed across the cityscape as heavily assembled Household Azads engaged isolated Nezam ortas into fixed exchanges of crossbow, archer, and ranged skirmishes. The increased patrols established heavily reinforced checkpoints to ensure that the peace was not disturbed. Elsewhere, the dimly illuminated, starlit skies served as a stark back drop toward the various lights that doted the expansive open seas where numerous Sarifen warships inched closer to Voltas' wharf fronts.

Whilst most of the near poverty stricken commoners had fled the streets, two men stalked the shadows as they moved through dirtied alleyways to fulfill motives of questionable purposes. Half a dozen heavily manned and hastily assembled checkpoints had been erected hours ago, blocking the path the two had trailed begun to trail and ultimately serving to hinder their progress and broaden the gap between themselves and their objectives. As if matters couldn't worsen, it seemed that the Emperor's Sipahis and various Household Zhayedans patrolled the streets, leaving no room for error or discovery.

The alternative seemed to involve swallowing arrows or javelins from fast moving mounted Sarifens or scimitars to the neck and in so far as they had witnessed, the Sipahis were performing an admirable enough job in terrorizing the local populace in their efforts to further isolate and destroy the Nezam ortas moving across the city. Before either decision became a reality, the two moved quickly through a large opening that brought them within view of a grizzly sight. In the distance, flames shot into the skies while bright flashes and sounds of distant battle cries marked the beginning of what would likely be the end for the Voltisian Nezamnissary Stronghold. It was without surprise that when arrived near the first checkpoint barring their way through the recognizable horse hoof tracks, that they spotted bows, arbalests, and mounted archers ...

---

Château de D'Aubigne Second Floor - Noble's Quarter

---

“Oi. Oi. Oi, Balthasar!”

Three exhausted men lay in chains as they wearily kneeled upon the carpeted floors. The darkness that engulfed the sparse room's confines only served to remind them of just how precarious certain factors grew to threaten their survival and the sores from combat did nothing to ease their suffering. As sweat poured down their faces, the confined enclosure's heat had grown increasingly unbearable; where even strained hunches only aggravated their attempts to relieve the burning sensations resulting from grueling confinement.

Their predicament could only be described through a series of ambitious, albeit botched endeavors that immediately thrust their entire resistance circle into a mortal Sarifen ambush. Through costly errors and incompetence alike, the ensuing aftermath had completely and utterly reduced their insurrectionist unit to nothing. The two remaining survivors were escorted to a safe location for confinement until they could be interrogated for valuable information concerning the resistance.

“Mon frère!” the a dark haired, man hoarsely exclaimed, “You must keep your eyes open. They will kill us if we drift off like that!”

The man twisted in an attempt to grant his companion room to breathe and move. Their arms remained bound behind their backs and shackled to the wall as did their legs and feet. The sweat pouring down their faces only worked against them as thirst was quickly becoming an enemy to their survival. How they had remained alive for this long without execution was beyond them, however, as the hours rolled by, the reality that they would die a slow and agonizing death had quickly grown evident.

“It's no use. We will not leaving this place alive. Save your energy, confrère,” the man shackled furthest away murmured. His balded head stood drenched in sweat and the finely women fabrics and tailored breeches appeared to have been ruined. His swallows and shallow breaths only hastened following several coughs and sniffles. “We are finished and you only delay the inevitable. Have dignity in knowing that we were not alone before our deaths.”

Snarling, the dark haired man burst forwards and lunged towards the balded man only to jolt backwards as the chains completely impeded his movement. Bellowing, the mercenarii floundered back towards his former position before fiercely throwing a foot upon the walls to express his disdain. “Unless you 'av a way out of this imprisonment. Why don't you drown yourself in piss? Fark off you, you high born dog!”

Following momentary silence, balded man glared through the darkness before his head once again lowered. His labored breaths only further illustrated his frustration and irritation yet even through shallow breaths, his demeanor proved remarkably stoic. The dark haired man merely scowled and looked away as he rocked upon his knees to vent his anger.

“I have earned more than my share of disappointing investments that may have yielded fruit and still managed to defeat hardships that would have threatened my fortunes.”

Chortling, the balded man glared and shook his head before continuing, “You should take care in who you speak to, seigneur. The D'Aubigne branches stretch across Carcassonne and we have brought order and structure towards otherwise chaotic financial matters. Our accomplishments to the continent are much greater than you could ever realize, but whether you understand what I've mentioned remains to be seen.”

“Oh? And you call dying here in this fark hole an accomplishment?” the mercenarii sneered, “Why don't you go back to your courts where you can rape young girls and leave survival to real men, oui?”

“The only court you will find here, mind you, is one dominated entirely through the puppet Lord Sovereign's touch and his Sarifen masters. Judging by your appearance and ...” the balded man paused as boot shuffles and metallic rings from drawn weapons filtered through the hallway door, “On second thought, nevermind your attire. What brought you and your brother-in-arm here, seigneur?”

“And what does it matter to you, hm? A snivelling, aristocrat like yourself need not concern himself to lowly men as ourselves, oui? Ohhh ... but wait! You do not know, do you? Once upon a time, King Lothair and the Delacroix family once entrusted our skills and services. The people once had need of men of like us when we still brought honor to Valania and its Kingdom! Whether you understand what I've mentioned remains to be seen!”

“Ahhh ...” the balded man answered, nodding in understanding, “You and your brother-in-arm are and were a men of the most trusted Delacroix swords,” the balded man murmured, nodding. “I can now see where you acquired your slip of the tongue and understandably it was not difficult for you to have angered the wrong men. Live or die, we will all eventually share the same fate. I do not see a reason to be rude. Now, may I ask again you what has brought you and your brother-in-arm here, seigneur?”

No sooner had the man finished speaking before sounds resembling several draw string groans and metallic rings rang out from the doorway beyond. Several strings of shouts and curses followed as muffled, yet nearly deafening bangs erupted from the distance. This followed swiftly as the walls rattled from shock amidst a flurry in blasting commotions. The dark haired man swiftly straightened as screams and bellows came from below.

“Did you hear that? I think I heard musket fire from b...”

In mid-sentence, the doorway suddenly burst open, spilling light across the room as armed men wearing bowled helmets, flowing crimson capes bearing the Lord Sovereign's insignia, and Almain riveted half armor assembled across the doorway. The ranks parted enough to allow a particularly commanding man wearing officerial pauldrons to step forwards. His expression carried a certain cold-blooded stare as his eyes drilled upon the trio shackled along the walls.

"For financing and bearing arms against the Lord Sovereign and the Sarifen State under Yadim-Hamon for whom, his righteous majesty, Emperor Anoush Aryanpour rule; we of the Crown Watch henceforth find you despicable traitors and heretics to all that is holy!"

"On what charges?!" the balded man inquired! "Bring the exact accusations for which we have committed heresy and treason against a fallen realm! Present your declaration that bears no legitimate claims towards enforcing common law!"

"You are all, henceforth, sentenced to death. Given the nature of your most dastardly crimes, you are not afforded the right for last words."

"You 'eard the man," the dark haired man shouted, "You have no right to bear these accus..."

"Arbalétriers," he barked, drawing his sword, "Form ranks and make ready!"

Without hesitation, the ranks reformed as crossbowmen assembled and kneeled, before the officer raised his sword.

"Préparer!"

The sounds of battle grew ever louder as detonations and cracks bellowed from below, yet even through the commotions, the men maintained ranks as their crossbows leveled. The dark-haired man cursed and spat upon the officer just before his sword arm swung forward. Time seemed to slow as his gaze fell to the floor where the following moments would deliver his fate.

Many loud bangs erupted from an unknown direction before several large lead spheres burst across the room and through the assembled ranks. In macabre fashion, the chained canon-balls whistled through the Crown Watchmen provoking screams and shouts as many were torch limb from limb. No sooner had chaos arrived when the floors collapse, sending the entire party crashing down towards the ground floors. As dust and debris spread out across the floor, the sounds of battle came alive as musket fire, screams from various parties, and cannonade fire filled the air ...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Château de D'Aubigne Interior Hallway - Noble's Quarter

---

Onatha leaned against the two who were supporting her. She was straining to keep the other seer from seeing her and her companions. The more she worked at it though the weaker she grew. Blistering claps echoed into the distance and through the commotion, the numerous guests, jesters, performers, and dancers staggering or rushing through the hallways proved too numerous to count. Some carried large, hollowed wounds whilst others dripped in blood. Yet again, several heavily armed retainers, some of whom bore the flowery emblems hailing towards various houses shouted as they unveiled an assortment of ranged and close quarters weaponry.

Lucius' arm wrapped around Ona's waist, however, upon lowering to supporting her weight, a large group of uniformed soldiers burst through multiple rooms, firing outwards as bullets and arrows began to shatter against the walls, pottery, and statues scattering the interior. In alarm, Lucius' pistol leveled towards the various soldiers wearing distinguished shoulder patches only to witness as they waved a frightened crowd of Valanian and Sarifen guests. In a strange realization, he found himself staring towards the soldiers' dark turqoise overcoats, notable stripes, and red salvar. These were Nezamnite Warriors of the Sarifen Nezam Corps and in the company of Valanians and Sarifens ... they were fighting together ...

In a split-second flash, Lucius hurled his weary blonde companion to the ground and ducked as over a dozen musket rounds poured through the open hallways. A short glance over revealed a squadron of fire arm infantry rushing into the opening chamber and in the ensuing fire, numerous Nezam Warriors peeled away to formed ranks before opening a barrage over the trio's head. The shots met with dead accuracy, felling many within the approaching squadron ranks, provoking the surviving fighters to return fire. Numerous robed guests screamed and fell as shots and arrows met their mark.

"Ona! Dae!" Lucius screamed as projectiles whistled, "Keep your heads down, damnit!"

Onatha hit the floor relatively hard. She closed her eyes and covered her ears. She felt sick to her stomach and tired. Battling with the other seer was leaving her weak. She couldn't let her win though. Further away, there was chaos and Ona tried to make herself as flat as possible.

As pots, vases, and delicate housewhere shattered all around, Lucius rolled into a flat bellied, forked position along the floor before carefully levelling and aiming his pistol. Moments after squeezing the trigger, a fighter along the opposite hallway screamed as a musketball pierced his heart before slumping over into a pillar. In short order, the Prince reached for his powder reserves as more shots rang out, this time from along the stairs. Glancing upwards, he watched as various tunic wearing Ivalians offered blistering cover fire whilst several surviving Valanians and Sarifen guests upturned pots, chairs, tables, and whatever furniture they could find.

"See that you regroup what remains of first, second, and fourth squadrons and spread the word to seal the entrances, board the windows, and take cover," a uniformed Nezam shouted. The young officer's notable spoons denoted considerable rank along his shoulder epaulettes and remained composed amidst the rounds whistling past his location. "They are wish to hasten their deaths to join the heretical demons right outside the doorstep!"

The officer calmly took aim and kneeled as a dozen Nezam warrior stifly hurled his rifle over his head. The detachment took aim and following the officer's barks, fired in unison. The devastating barrage tore into the assembling ranks, inciting numerous casualties. "Boluk-bashi! The others have enough to last awhile, but we cannot shoot forever!"

"Sir!" Another rifle wielding Nezam shouted, "The men are holding, but the Paighans are closing on all sides! We are counting at least five companies with more arriving by the minutes!"

"Then let it be known how we die, Corbaci. Let Yadin-Hamon know that we died as brothers even as our brethren betrayed our Corps to further their own masters' p..."

Startled, the Nezam officer dropped the pistol and drew his sword only to find himself staring towards an glaring, crossbow carrying man. Several comrades shouted and levelled their firearms, only to click to find their weapons empty. In their vain attempts, the Prince's eyes widened as a horrifying discovery and realization played before his eyes. Nearby, several escaping guests including a well-dressed, Valanian man managed several steps only to fall to a well aimed crossbow bolts in the back. Two Ivalian ladies screamed as they were cut down by disciplined soldiers whilst numerous victims fell to spear and sword thrusts. His arms and shoulders flared in a burning sense and through several curses, drew himself to action.

"Mon frère!" Lucius screamed! "Get down!"

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Going to have more posts on the way so stay tuned and remember that Altaea will reappear in the most unexpected ways ;)