Nevis

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

-waves to 7-

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Uriel listened cluelessly to the beginning of Lucius's speech for how much of it was related to events he could only surmise-whatever lead to the inferno and slaughter above the stair. His mouth stayed in a thin, grim line as the story progressed-and then came his mention of storming the Palais de Voltas of all places.

Quietly, he niped and sucked on his lower lip while the other prince went on to reveal to him that he had discovered among Conqvist's assets a seer able to discern their location at any time. It certainly would explain aught-and make his situation far more dire. There may be no playing Conqvist's game to his own advantage with that pawn at his employ. Then there was that he would die within a day without aid regarding these additional demons he was newly host to... and that all was without even that he was among Lucius's best chances of surviving the Palais-and damn him by every word for a fool, he desperately wanted him alive like a crying child clutched to their mother.

With a grim, narrow mouth and furrowed brow, he stepped forward at step, just past the rest of the ensemble towards Lucius. "... I will go. And I may be able to help in entering. I use elemental magic suited for combat and destruction... if I am admittedly unstable and weak at this moment. Even so, I am with you."

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Apologies, I got wrapped up in other things over the last few days. I will post in just a moment.

I am actually in our college's 'Simulations and Game Development' program-making games, including video (although this is a test to see if I am even interested in that path, not am planning to yet). What sort of game are you working on?

Edit: My post is up. For what Gourmet said, Uriel is entirely set on going to Voltas, planning to help remove the problem of the seer and later slip away in the confusion to seek out Conqvist's or whomever's aid to stave off the demons from killing him within a day. Although, as he also mentioned, if anyone else has any other desires or ideas for an interaction or to help him in that...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

@DJAtomika - On the money about Conqvist being a puppet king, but I would replace the word idiot with bastard of the century. ;^P

@GourmetItalia

Meanwhile, Uriel is the bastard of the millenia...

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Uriel will be going with Lucius. He both has spite towards those at the Palais and wants to keep Lucius safe as he can-and his only chance of survival is at Voltas, so he will be planning to slip away to find Conqvist or whomever during it to get on that at some point during the counterattack.

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Aye, it has been slow-I am genuinely extremely surprised that it has even survived given the drag and time delays. It has, though, and I am still here.

The story is intriguing and going along well. I have admittedly done a lot of tl;dr-however, this has more to do with the time-jumps than the post lengths themselves as many of the names' meanings were lost to me over the periods of inactivity so I understood very little of what I was reading.

I think a concise, bullet-point dictionary of major terms, people, places and a summation of what all has transpired thus far will be enough to clear that up at least on my end. Quite a lot of the posts, I just did not understand because I did not know which group, person, faction or incident they were referring to and nor did I know where to look to find out the answer.

Otherwise, I am up and ready to continue!

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Uriel glanced upwards to Balthazar with an exasperated sigh-however, then Lucius withdrew, startled, before falling and tumbling down the corridor. He stared on in horror as the man collided into the wall, chasing dumbly after him several steps before slowing when the Prince commented back. He stood there, mouth a grim line as he responded to the two. "We're about halfway down the stair to the cellar where I was being kept. There is a corridor there that a high noble who was aware of what all was going on fled through. How far or where exactly it leads, I know not-however, as he took it, I am certain it leads to some way out."

The soft light and shadows danced over his face like fires, strange shadows seeming somehow unnatural playing about him, around him as he stepped down to the cellar's floor and began to walk in the direction of an archway lit in red, orange and yellow hues. He stopped near the entrance and looked back to Lucius, concern and on-edge impatience in his face. "Through here, specifically," Uriel said, sweeping a hand softly, open-handed and palm upturned to the passageway as a particularly bright flare burst somewhere in the tunnel to cast him in a strange play of fiery light and shadow. For a single moment, shapes of shadow painted the wall like wings, almost like an angel holding a flame-then flickered as though something writhed from within and somehow seemed sinister as the image faded for the dying fire, almost demonic. It happenened so fast, though, it could easily have been an illusion, even something from pain and exhaustion-induced deliria.

"There's no more time. We're already going to have to find our way through there; come...!'

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Uriel Delacroix - Aryanpur

---

Uriel glanced back and upwards to Lucius and looked to him, mouth a thin, grim line. "... in its fullness and when privacy permits, yes. For now..." he smiled weakly to the Prince, an expression of weariness-weariness from torture, from the weight of demons and fate, of persecution and nobility and the guilt of his own arrogance. "... you may call to me as Uriel."

With that, he steps up the stair a bound to right next to Lucius-and offered him an outstretched hand; his voice, however, rang both of shattered nerves and hope. "Weak as I am right now... I am not going to let you collapse. Let me help you."

There was no time for Lucius to be hobbling after. Scared as his mind was, as the fear and anger boiled in his blood, some part of him thrived in this den of carnage and cacophony of destruction and screams-perhaps the demons, perhaps for whatever was inside of him that attracted them so to him. He knew not, in the end; however, neither did he have the time or care for even that mystery right then, not while one of the two men in all the world who he held some dearness for stood so close to his death. Desperately, he looked pleadingly to Lucius, praying to whatever God had chosen to forsake him and whatever demons plagued him with their strength for the man to trust him. There was not time for Lucius otherwise and damned be the fires and heaven itself, he was not going to just abandon him here.

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Into the Shades

---

There were many evenings where the Prince found death screaming at every turn, however, the evening's festivities had brought such a definition to new heights. He found screams errupt from nearly every corner and the eerie shades barely sweep the inferno into streaming fountains of fire. The beautiful sight nearly caught his breath, however, it was the sheer sight of his struggling companions and the surviving guests' suffering that delivered the daring instincts instilled from days following Valania's defeat at the Battle of Vercelli.

If their imminent demise hadn't already presented a sound case for departure, the ear-splitting screeches attuned his senses enough to find a most riddling desire for escape. Above the mortal cacophony, words exchanged between himself and their young lady assassin regarding deliberate instructions that would proceed in his untimely demise. No other words followed, detailing a mutual understanding involving the pair. A short time later, his eyes strayed towards the parted space that kept the flames at bay before his complete attention turned towards their mysterious, armored companion. With whatever ounce of strength still within reserved from within, the Prince stumbled forward and shouted, “Magi! You mentioned you knew of way out?”

Uriel grit his teeth. "I do. Below," he said as he turned hallway towards the cellar and taking a heavy step towards it, "There is a cellar. A nobleman who certainly knew where to go fled through it... although it was blazing. Still, better to risk an inferno and possible enemies outside than face certain incendiation here." Sighing, he waved with his hand as he gestured for the Prince to follow-gaze dark and grim as he began to descend the first of the stairs.

De le Crosse... a pseudonym. However, one that seemed to carry genuine weight... and the woman did not say it in pretentiousness. Whatever name it was, it carried a certain respect to it. Whatever the matter, though, there was too little time, too little attention, to be given to Lucius's current supposed family name. Still panting softly, he cast a glance upwards to be certain the man on his mind was even behind him.

𝒜𝑙𝘵𝒶𝑒𝒶: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝑔𝑒 𝓸𝘧 ℛ𝑒𝒱𝓸𝑙𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓸𝓃

Uriel - Delacroix - Aryanpour

---

The roar of fires and din of battle assailed Uriel's ears as he hurried up the stair, breath coming in labored pants like the sudden clashes of the blades echoing almost imperceptibly for the inferno. An occasional weapon lay abandoned on the ground-as did bodies. Too many, his mind too hazy like the smoke-filled air and too rushed to recall whom the colors and designs belonged to right now, the mind-numbing agony in his forehead too distracting. He blinked hard, bringing his hand up to hold his eyes in blessedly relieving darkness for a moment-and began to hear voices. Close ones.

Uriel gritted his teeth. Not now... with anger in his sight, the bastard knelt to pick up a side-sword from the hallway steps and began to trace the edge of the wall to hide as long as possible. Slowly, he rounded the corner-as something began to trouble him. He knew one of those voices... a young man's. Familiar, linked to danger yet also care and gratitude... to whom did those words belong? Could this encounter, by some miracle, not be a threat to his life?

Then again... it might even if there was once something between them. Enemies and allies-who did he know was which as the burning walls began crumbling down? Uriel held his sword poised high, ready to strike if need be as he moved his head past to see an assembly of soldiers, guards and a nobleman knelt besides a woman laying on the ground. His glittering eyes scanned over them all, racing to understand-before one of them saw him with a sword raised near the presumed lord and pointed to him with a cry.

During the same instance the armed men and women vengefully drew their weapons, the finely dressed, Valanian nobleman rose and inched through the blinding smoke and fumes towards the armored man. As all eyes and cocked weapons pointed towards the new arrival, the nobleman shouted in an attempt to demand restraint and order. His words made little effect for a loud bang echoed through the Grand Staircase chamber. The effect was rather immediate in persuading the Valanians to lower their weapons in respect to the approach of a particularly imperious bearing lady. Her appearance marked characteristics that included straight ahead glance and a dignified posture to mark her formal bearings. Her arrival sparked enough of a resolve that brought the finely dressed within the armored man's vicinity and a look of curious familiarity.

“The Cometesse de Pompadour wishes to convey that the Comte de Le Crosse would at least offer his bearings as matter of proper courtesy,” the breath-taking lady addressed through a modest aristocratic nod, “Though fate has commanded, your meddlings here are beyond our understanding, though it's quite evident you have a way with words. Seems you and friends also levy a natural habit for locating the resistance and its dignitaries!”

Upon returning the lady's gesture through the proper male greeting, the nobleman's eyes darted between the Valanians before hissing, “Etiquette be damned; you are all, completely mad! Cometesse Mirabelle, did it ever occur to any of you, that your arrivals might have stirred a few heads, most notably the Lord Sovereign? There presents no such ordinary coincidence that the resistance assembled under one roof?”

“How could we possibly refuse an invitation from the Ecuyer D'Aubigne,” the Cometesse affirmed? “Gold and minted coins don't exactly grow on trees and acquainting the D'Aubigne family's renowned financial backing isn't a terrible stretch is it? Though I do suppose we are of one breed given that your associations are ever more flamboyant.”

“Unbelievable,” the nobleman offered his armored companion a nod before coldly answering, “Did you really believe you could sway the head of Aubigne family and…”

Through vision that occasionally swam Uriel listened, eyes darting back and forth between the two nobles quarelling with little comprehension, if mentions of fate, a resistance... then back to insults and matters he was not privvy to. At the least, he lowered his sword partway for the seeming lack of hostility...

... to gape slightly when the man retorting to the pompous woman's remarks nodded to him, revealing his face-one etched into his mind as though it had been carved into stone. With a tentative voice that carried a stronger note of raw, tender hope than he wanted, Uriel spoke out.

"Lucius?"

Squinting through the hazy smoke, the Prince's eyes strayed towards the scars along the man's neck and wrists. There was no mistaking the poor fellow's treatment and past wounds sustained during the harrowing nights, the two narrowly escaped Orad with their tails between their legs. Since the two split, it was the last Lucius saw of the man. There was little he could whilst on the run from many hundreds of Sarifen Sipahis and accompanying companies of mounted hunters. He'd hoped the young companion had escaped into the land where his talents could be put to good use away from vaunted killers and Sarifen soldiers.

"Magi!" he hissed through bewildered incredulity and throated gasps, "I don't know what you are doing here or your motives, however, I do hope you've good reason to explain your presence here or it seems we may likely all die here!"

The 'magi' looked back to him, his mouth a grim line. Of all the men to run into... probably the only one in the world besides his lost teacher he could rely on here and now was Lucius. With his free hand, he lifted a hand to his neck and extends a curled finger, pulling it to the side as though it were pulling on a collar. "I was captured-related to the same reasons as my fleeing when we met."

With a sigh, he took a step forward-and nearly stumbles, blinking as the blood in his body once again moves in dizzying circulation. A weak, ironic smile broke over his face. "I know not even where I am. Right now, my motive is survival."

An Ivalian screamed as she pointed towards the ceiling under where a man and a dishelved young noble lady emerged. The flames and embers fused together in a maddening inferno that not only spouted noxious fumes, but brought every trapped inhabitant gasping for air. Shouts and cries for help from respective deities all sounded at once as the survivors all dashed for cover. In the end, it all proved futile when a large groan sounded as part of the ceiling came crashing down, crushing various members of all parties.

"I'm sorry, magi." Lucius glanced sadly towards the armored man as he moved backwards, "However, I'm afraid survival is for out of the question. We are out of time ..." Just before the ceiling beams inverted upon the staircase chamber, the Prince defiantly glanced towards the ceiling and wrapped his arms around a panting, green eyed female companion.

The unknown bastard grit his teeth as Lucius put his arms around the woman and clenches his hands hard. With a slow head and quick eyes, he scanned over the maelstrom of fire, wood, stone and steel throughout the room before glancing down with a hard, harsh look. A moment passed before he spoke, his haggard voice carrying an edge that burned like the fires around them.

"... there's a path below. While it, too, is aflame... I know it leads to escape."