Long time no 'see' everyone. Graduate school was a bit tougher than I expected and my free-time was spent either doing projects/assignments, playing old timey games like the Baldurs Gate and Neverwinter Nights series. That and I'm addicted to Spiderman series comics - especially Ultimate, Noir and Spider-Gwen - and if nothing else it's a fascinating look on how different Western and Eastern heroes are in characteristics and their plots. Hopefully it doesn't unintentionally affect my writing but ah well.

Hopefully my writing skills haven't dulled completely, but I guess you guys will be the judge of that.

Since this is a 'fighting' chapter you know the drill: More of the chapter will be spent on whinging dialogue with the 'climax' being short and rather anticlimactic in nature. Still, better to end it now before it festers so lets get to it. Due to changes in the chapter content some segments will be bigger than others.

Oh, and just a heads up: Derflinger doesn't talk at all in this chapter, mostly because I could NOT find a way to fit him with all the other characters jabbering in the segments. He'll get more dialogue in the next chapter, but as of this current chapter he's more-or-less mute even when it might make sense for him to say something.

They were going to kill a monarch.

Raziel brought a hand across his face and let out an exhausted breath. Only minutes left till the Queen's ill-fated plan was sprung and here he was still deliberating on. Killing a King...it wouldn't have been the first time he'd done so: The Lord of Sunlight, The First of the Dead, The Witch of Izalith...

The Progenitor of Man.

King, Queen, Lord, Witch, First, Witch, Progenitor...all leaders, and none of them were infallible. Of course they projected the image of omnipotence, parading the idea that they were unto Gods and that to defy them was tantamount to damnation. But in the end, for all their proclamations of Divinity, they were killed by a festering corpse holding the fragment of a long-dead monster.

Of course with that knowledge came an undercurrent of uncertainty. Did he really end their half-dead existences on his own or was it simply the presence of Alsanna's 'Father' that allowed him to persevere? His Undeath had always been a crutch, one he relied on to an increasing degree as the events of the year passed, but how long could he keep doing so? Derflinger kept the seals intact for now, but with every wound and every brush with death he grew closer to letting that monster loose.

But what was he without it? An unskilled murderer, good for killing and little else. How many times had he been saved from failure by the taint of the abyss corrupting him? How often was he on the cusp of death before the very thing he tried to keep suppressed unleashed itself on his enemies. He nearly lost control permanently during the Sleipnirs Ball...he couldn't afford to do so for much longer else Ciaran would put him down like a rabid animal.

A sigh passed through parted lips and he leaned back slightly on the bed. He was going to be part of a plan to kill a monarch and rescue his best friend and here he was debating on the nature of his existence. A soft, wry laugh escaped before he could suppress it; Damn Queen, damn 'sister'...of course while he was running around blind they were sharing knowledge gleaned from memory and experience. Even now he still struggled to make sense of the memories filtering into his mind while his 'older sister' likely held no such difficulties. She knew everything, aware since her 'birth' while he fumbled like an infant.

He shook his head; now wasn't the time to worry about himself. Clenching his left hand. he watched through narrowed eyes as the flesh corroded with abyssal taint. Alsanna and Derflinger had assured that the shards were being kept under control better than before, though he had his doubts on it. Even without losing control the corruption always bubbled to the surface; first with those Darkwraiths and then with Tabitha.

A stirring from behind caught his attention. Looking back slightly, he caught sight of Cattleya pawing blindly through the covers before picking up his discarded shirt. His eyes wandered across her bare skin before he turned away with a soft cough; It was a little too late for embarrassment considering their repeated acts of intercourse, but...how could he describe it? Despite their actions there was still a certain distance between them.

He wasn't presumptuous: This wasn't a tale of star-crossed lovers and love 'finding a way' despite the disparity of their positions. They had sex due to mutual grief and they had occasionally chosen to continue doing so when their grief became far too much. It wasn't what one would call healthy but it was better than wallowing in despair and feeling sorry for themselves all those weeks they waited for the ball.

He turned back and smiled slightly when he saw her wearing his somewhat loose shirt over her frame. His current body had...taken some time to get used to. Granted he found no longer appearing like a child to be a boon overall, but it was never simple changing faces given the issues he had with his identity. It was a small blessing that it wasn't too much of a detriment from their acts the night prior; given that physical attraction never truly factored in for their reasons in the first place he supposed he could count his blessing that what happened last night hadn't been too difficult.

"What's wrong?" She asked, a quick yawn passing as she rubbed her eyes.

"Nothing, we are simply leaving soon." He nudged his head to the open window and the two moons high in the sky. Given the Queen's planning they would leave before the sun rose which would ensure they arrived in the dead of night at Gallia's capital. The time for this would be strained, but they had unanimously agreed that every day they delayed meant another day they could figure out that Tabitha had turned against them. The plan was crude at best, but as always they were grasping at straws and beggars couldn't be choosers.

"So...this is it then? You rescue Louise and kill the bastard that's been doing all this or..."

"Or we all die." He finished for her. She flinched at the blunt admission but he merely shrugged in response, "It is to be expected; this is a dangerous gamble we are making. This...'Mad King' has been pulling our strings and we follow along like lifeless dolls. Either we cut the strings...or he strangles us with them."

"That's certainly an image..." She rubbed her tumbles and swung her legs over the bed's edge, moving to sit next to him, "You've...faced worse, right? Little Louise always tried to gloss over details but I get the feeling that it hasn't exactly been a bed of roses for you two ever since the war with Albion started."

"I has been an ordeal ever since she first summoned me." He rolled his eyes, "Fouquet, her old fiancee, Tarbes, those damned spies...we shift from struggle to struggle with almost no respite and all because she believes she owes her loyalty to that Queen of hers. Even if we rescue Louise we still have to deal with other problems; would you believe this madman's machinations are not the end of it?"

"What do you mean? Is someone pulling his strings as well?"

"If you believe the Queen and Julio, all the world is a stage and we are all playing our roles from beginning to end." He scowled. Damned talk of cycles, it never stopped irritating him, "Apologies, I did not mean to drag you into such talk. It is beneath you."

"It's fine...do you...want talk about it?" She asked, looking at him with those gentle eyes. Even now it intrigued him how she could go from uncertain seductress to accepting confidant. Perhaps she'd simply learned to put on different masks given her experiences.

"...Perhaps when we make it through this. I would rather not complicate matters before we solve our current issue." He touched her shoulder lightly. The gesture was stiff, but she giggled back all the same.

It was odd...he didn't know how he could describe their exchanges. They weren't lovers - or at least he presumed they weren't given their unusual circumstances - but their...interactions allowed a certain openness between them. Guiche would have described it as 'pillow talk', but he was generally certain that talking about one's sister or the end of the world wasn't what one would call 'intimate discussions in bed'.

"...I should go. Besides, it would be better if your sister did not catch us in flagrante delicto; Louise or not I imagine she would attempt to kill me before I could even attempt an explanation."

"Yes, Eleanor can be...strict in that regard." She pressed a hand to her face to muffle a laugh, "Hmhm, before you go I want to give you something."

He watched as she stood and made her way to the closet, ignoring the shirt rising and exposing the pale flesh of her backside. He looked away with a scoff, a slight tinge of red on his cheeks; this wasn't the first time they'd had intercourse in recent weeks and yet after the act was done he was always hit with a sense of bashfulness that definitely had no place given their actions.

She returned quickly enough and grabbed his hand, "Here, hold still." She wrapped a thin strip of purple cloth around his right wrist tightly.

Raziel's brows furrowed and he gave her a questioning glance, "A...cloth?"

"It's something my mom told me about when I was younger." She smiled at him warmly, "Whenever she and father had to take to their duties separately they gave each other a memento as a sort of good luck charm. She told me that was an extra incentive to come back; they'd always give the things back whenever they got back home, so think of it as something to return when you rescue Louise."

"Hm..." He raised his hand experimentally and twisted it. The cloth was of somewhat fine make, but with no distinguishing signs or marks.

"I'd be lying if I said it was important; it's a handkerchief." She smiled sheepishly, "I thought about giving you something with the Valliere sigil on it - to help Louise trust you since you changed appearance - but I get the feeling doing what you're going to do while carrying something like that is a bad idea so..."

"I...appreciate the gesture, Catt. Thank you." The edges of his mouth quirked upwards and he rubbed the cloth gently. He didn't look too much into the gesture: A wish for good luck and the successful rescue of her sister, nothing more. Hopefully he didn't disappoint her. They had all been in an ever-lowering spiral, it would do them good to receive some fortune for once in these miserable months.

He said nothing as she took his hands in hers, simply relishing in the small warmth he received. It was silly...a part of him wanted to excuse all of this as induced affectation due to her nature, but he of all people knew that Manus abhored the bonfires. Perhaps he simply relished any company after everything that had happened: Siesta, Guiche, Tiffania...he was back to feeling sorry for himself. Ha...Derflinger would have given him an earful if he knew about this.

"I have to go."

He walked past her and opened the closet, picking out the prepared clothing. The queen made it clear that exposing their identity put all of Tristain at risk, so disguising themselves would be crucial. He put on the hooded jacket before taking the bottle of dye in his hands. Dying their hair, covering their faces, masking their voices...it all reeked of paranoia and falsehood, but for once couldn't find it in himself to disagree.

He gave Cattleya one last look before making his way to the door. Succeed or perish...it never changed.

"Well...I guess this is goodbye for now."

"I will see you soon, Catt...and hopefully your sister will be with us."

The crunch of the grass under his boots were the only sounds in the early morning grounds. Derflinger had remained mercifully quiet, to which he was increasingly grateful: It was...difficult avoiding the urge to snap at him. He didn't need his heckles about his newfound 'sister' or the correspondence he shared with Cattleya, not while all of this was still going on. He couldn't guarantee he would be able to control himself.

Speaking of self-control.

Raziel's mouth dipped into an annoyed frown as he saw Julio leaning against the walls of the gate, arms crossed and that self-satisfied smile on his face as always. He would be participating in the particular incursion as well, though mercifully it would be on separate groups. They each had their roles to play in this, after all, but keeping there distance was preferable.

Light and Dark never mixed well together for long.

Despite himself he found his steps leading him towards the reincarnated Lord and it wasn't long before they stood side-by-side, a short distance between them. They would go their separate ways soon enough, but her Majesty suggested they all go to the capital together; for the sake of convenience if nothing else. Ciaran was still nowhere to be found as was Tabitha, which meant they needed to wait.

A frigid wind ran through the plaza and Raziel scowled. Muttering something to himself, he pulled his hood over his head and ignored Julio's look of sympathy. His body felt...odd: Not alive, but not as cold and lifeless as before. It was to be expected considering his origins but it still took some getting used to. He could only hope it wouldn't be a liability for the duration of their attempted regicide.

"...I am curious about something." Julio started, his voice cutting through the pregnant silence.

"Of course you are..." He rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to face him. He wasn't in the mood for it, "What is it then? More questions of my true nature? Are you going to ask if I believe in the cycles wholly like you and the queen seem to do so?"

"Actually, I was going to ask how long your relations with Miss. Cattleya had been taking place."

He did his best to show no reaction. He was baiting him, trying to incite a reaction, and in the end he couldn't stop the frustrated growl that escaped his throat. With the queen it was easy: Despite his dislike of her she always remained in control of herself, any similarities to Gwynevere an unconscious consequence at the worst. With Julio...despite proclamations of being separate from his predecessor he found it difficult to tell where one ended and the other began.

"...How did you-"

"You are not nearly as discreet as you believe." He chucked softly and tapped his nose, "As an Undead - or whatever it is you are now - the illusion masks all scents. Surely you wondered why it was that you did not smell like a rotting corpse."

"It has passed my mind..." He admitted begrudgingly. Despite his fleeting curiosity he never truly considered it for any long period of time; despite ostensibly being one himself he never truly understood how the Undead functioned, at least not completely. It wasn't as if he had time in Lordran to sit down and get lectured by Logan on the nature of life after death.

"You have no scent normally; the illusion masks the stench of decay...or at least it should be. At this point I'm not sure if there's anything left to mask." He shrugged lightheartedly, "But to answer your question: You smell like perfume." He sniffed the air almost mockingly, "In a place like this the aroma is almost overpowering. If you plan to continue your relationship I would suggest that you take measures to make your dalliances less apparent."

"Why do you care? Planning to hold it over my head?" He managed to keep his voice level, "Or is it that you are jealous? If so do not dance around it."

"Jealousy?" Julio blinked, seemingly surprised by the suggestion, he placed a hand on his chin, "An odd thought...though not an inaccurate one all things considered."

"Why am I not surprised?" Raziel scoffed. Of course it came down to breaking his vows of chastity again, "I cannot say I blame you. Catt has admirers in this school in no small abundance, it-"

"You assume I'm jealous of you? An amusing notion, but a false one," Julio cut in, "No, the target of my ardor is Miss. Cattleya. She is very lucky in receiving your affections; I must admit I'm envious of her." He brought a hand through his hair and grinned, "I hope she cherishes what she has, Brimir know I would in her position."

"...Why did I not see that jest coming?" He let out a groan, trying to contain his exasperation. With Julio it was difficult to tell the difference between sincerity and a bold-faced lie. A part of him wondered how much of it was due to the influence of his predecessor and how much of it came down to him being a two-faced bastard all on his own, "Well, I would appreciate if you did not announce your knowledge of our relations. I lose nothing, but she is the daughter of an esteemed family. It would only hurt her if others found out about her...activities."

"Your secret is safe with me, my friend." Julio brought a finger across his lips and winked, "I must admit that I was expecting this to a degree. An Undead and a Firekeeper, both would of course be drawn to one another-"

"Manus hated Firekeepers..." Raziel muttered. He didn't mean for the gap between him and his progenitor to weaken, but recent events had made it...difficult. Dusk- Tiffania had seen him in that state and Alsanna had more or less stated that he was never 'meant' to be one of their siblings. He was never meant to be a distinct person...just another remnant left to die in the abyss.

"Ah, but you aren't Manus, are you?" Julio countered easily, "Whatever origin your soul has you are no more Manus than Queen Henrietta is Gwynevere. We cannot choose how we were born, but the first step is always ours."

"If I wanted a lecture on hope I would have continued listening to Elizabeth's ramblings." He sneered, "Tell me something: You are a priest are you not?"

"That is not a secret, yes."

"And yet you know for a fact that you carry the soul of Gwyn in you?"

"Ever since I was a child I always felt myself to be different from other children, that is true," Julio admitted, "It was only when my master summoned me that I knew what it was that separated me from my peers. I admit it was...difficult at first, but his guidance-"

"I did not ask for your life story." He interrupted, "You know for a fact that you have the soul of a dead God, you know that when you die you do not go to some paradise in the heavens; you remain here, and in your belief you are destined to play the role as some agent in an eternal cycle."

Despite Raziel's words, Julio seemed nonplussed, "Your point being?" He asked back, one eyebrow raised.

"Your entire religion, your belief, is a farce. I do not know too much about the dogma you follow, but you seem to believe in the idea of an almighty God figure and the paradise awaiting the virtuous after death when you know this to be false." He brought a hand through the air as if wiping something away, "'Gods' can be killed, even by rotting corpses such as I. If you truly are Gwyn then you also know that your soul is not destined for paradise-"

Julio laughed, cutting off his words. Again he felt a stab of irritation course through him but he forced himself to calm, "Belief...it's a funny thing, Raziel." He started, "I've seen my fair share of non-believers, many of them were even nobles. They expect some sort of tangible benefit: If Brimir truly was real and he appreciated our worship why isn't he down here solving our problems? They treat God as if he was a servant, that the worship is his 'payment'."

"You did not answer my question..."

"Belief...it gives me hope." He answered casually. Raziel looked at him through narrowed eyes, but his calm smile remained, "I suppose I must appear as an enigma to you: A human with the soul of a God, and yet I worship a God whose only proof of existence is a select few claim that he gave them their gifts. By all rights I should dismiss him outright, but...perhaps...perhaps the part of me that is human allows me to do this. If I did not have my belief and my master...it wouldn't be inaccurate to say I would have given up on life."

"So that is your reason? You believe because the alternative is too difficult to face?"

"Call me a coward if you wish, I've been called worst." He shrugged, "Contrary to popular belief the nobles aren't proof in and of themselves of Brimir's Godhood, merely his existence, but the relics he left behind certainly are. For many they're nothing special; A blank book, an old music box, four rings...but you've seen yourself the hidden potential they held. Even if he wasn't successful he was the only one who attempted to stop the cycles and if not for his gift of magic or the afterlife we're promised I believe that by itself is worthy of worship. The reasons differ, but the end result remains the same."

"...If you say so." Raziel scoffed. Why were they even discussing this? Was he really so petty that he wanted Julio to show a sign of cracking that infallible mask? To prove that despite his claims he was Gwyn under everything he tried to hide? "That is your only reason?"

"And honestly if not for belief most of us would have gone mad. His teachings impart values and a list of consequences. If not for that many of us would succumb to base instincts...as much as I love humanity, letting us run amok would be worse than any apocalypse this cycle can throw at us."

"Thank you for your insight, Gwyn." Raziel muttered, "Of course you would believe that someone's existence before anyone else qualifies them for Godhood, that humans need to be controlled..."

"And what would your solution be? Tell everyone that their fate has been determined by Souls that could never truly hope to understand mankind? Sometimes...Sometimes a comforting lie is better. Not everyone can remain calm given knowledge of the dangers we face, wouldn't you agree?"

"Living in blissful ignorance is never worth the price. I learned that when I ended my journey on that kiln and nearly sacrificed myself out of ignorance."

"Sacrificing yourself because of a lie or because it was your choice: In the end we can only judge by our actions and I see no difference either way." He shrugged, "You might wish to discuss this with Queen Henrietta rather than myself; she tries her best to hide it but her beliefs have been strained ever since she realized the true nature of her soul."

"You would do better for that..."

"It was merely a suggestion. I cannot change your mind and you cannot change mine, so let us simply wait for Sir. Ciaran and Lady Tabitha to come."

The minutes were spent in uncomfortable silence, enough for his mind to wander once more. This plan they had...it was risky no matter how they tried to justify: They would split themselves into three groups, each with a different intended goal - He and those Vampires would sneak through an underground tunnel and try to rescue Louise, and that was of course assuming Tabitha wasn't lying and they weren't being led to a pit full of spikes; Tabitha and Ciaran would go through the rooftops and try to assassinate the so-called 'Mad King'; and finally Julio, Agnes and a few musketeers would attempt to rescue Tabitha's mother, who had been moved and was being held close to the capital.

Honestly he had his doubts; there were an infinite amount of ways things could go wrong, but what else did they have? Tabitha only agreed to help due to her mother's rescue, saving Louise was the whole point many of them were even here, and yet this Joseph needed to die before any future repercussions could be had. If they had more people maybe...

No, not the time for that.

It wasn't much longer before Ciaran and Tabitha showed up to meet them.

...With an addition he would have honestly preferred to avoid.

"Tiffania, what are you doing here?"

"H-Hey, Raziel..." The half-Elf girl raised her hand and waved nervously, an unsure smile on her face. Tabitha looked at them only for a moment before walking to the stables without a word while Ciaran crossed her arms, a frown on her masked face. It was clear she wasn't going to leave, "I...was hoping to talk to you first before you left."

"But-"

"Go, we are wasting enough time as it is." Ciaran cut in, her displeasure apparent. "You have five minutes."

Raziel waited for Ciaran to join Tabitha at the stables before looking at his ward, "Tiffania, you have said your goodbyes last night. There is nothing more to say-"

"Are you going to be okay?"

Raziel blinked at the blunt inquiry, "What do you mean by that?"

"I...I know what you're going to be doing is dangerous and...I saw what happened to you during the ball." They both winced. Appearing like that in front of her was...not something he hoped to repeat, "I want to see Louise again, just..." She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it gently, "Just please be careful, okay? I don't want to see you like that again, it was..."

"Monstrous, I know." He attempted a comforting smile and gently pulled her hand away, "I promise to try and keep in control...speaking of which, you have not told Ciaran of-"

"That woman who saved us? N-No, Queen Henrietta told me not to." She bit her lip, "Why can't I? She's helping you, you should-"

"I cannot trust her." He eyed the assassin warily. She was pulling a horse away from the stables with a bit more force than necessary, "Ciaran would kill me were she capable of it; it is only her incapability and Elizabeth's promise that has kept her blades sheathed. If she knew about Alsanna...I cannot guarantee I would not be forced to intervene on her behalf and kill-"

"Don't say that." She interrupted, shaking her head forcefully, "Just...please be careful, okay? Losing Louise was bad enough, I don't want you to disappear either."

She stayed still for a moment, simply looking at him, before she turned and walked back the dormitory tower. Raziel looked at her and sighed; her eyes...it was as if she was looking at a stranger. Perhaps it was for the best: He wasn't the idiotic boy she knew in that forest, a change of face simply added a sense of permanency to it even if he had his doubts on him retaining this change.

"Finished?" Ciaran stood next to him, her expression under the mask unreadable.

"As if you were not eavesdropping," He scoffed, "You have your rings?"

The signal rings...he and Amethyst would be carrying amulets while rescuing Louise. Ciaran and Tabitha were tasked with ending Joseph's life, but if they failed they would have to try in their stead. The rings were meant to signal the amulets if either of the two perished in the attempt. A poor contingency, but better than nothing.

"As I promised." She raised her right hand, showing him the dull band on her ring finger, "I would prefer to do this alone. Surely you can see the foolishness of entrusting a task of this degree to one who had already turned against you."

"Her knowledge on the castle's infrastructure is unparalleled. Trusting her is a risk, but beggars cannot be choosers." He sighed, "I trust you will be careful. We cannot afford you to fail, rings or no."

"It is not the first time I have killed a king, Manus, and it will not be the last."

Their game was coming to an end.

Joseph hummed to himself cheerily as he made his way to his bedroom. Charlotte had been captured and he surmised it wouldn't take long for her to turn against them; the way he had treated her all but ensured it, after all. Oh well: He had hoped that they would kill her, but Sheffield's disjointed reports last placed her as being taken prisoner in the academy after her construct had been destroyed by some kind woman wreathed in ice.

Moving his sister-in-law had been a final move, a way to make sure this last game was on even ground. Sheffield had of course urged him to hide away for a while, as a precautionary measure if nothing else, but he had refused. When the opponent received an advantage one didn't turn over the board and quit the game; one made do with the cards they were dealt and did their best to win no matter the disadvantage.

Opening the door to the lavish chamber, he merely raised an eyebrow at the sight of the hooded figure from Albion standing in the center of the room. Lips quirking in a slight smile, he walked past her and poured the prepared wine into two chalices. The recent days had been just full of surprises and at this point the mysterious figure's presence did little to perturb him.

"I thought you made it clear our first meeting would be our last." He took a sip of the crimson wine and offered her the other glass.

She ignored it, not even bothering to face him, "You know why I am here..." Her voice was soft, yet it carried throughout the entirety of the large room, "Not long ago I offered you a chance-"

"To join you in saving the world," He interrupted, tone dripping with boredom, "And I believe I made it clear I didn't care to accomplish such lofty goals." He chuckled and placed the other chalice on the table, "I haven't changed my mind, you know. There's nothing you can offer me, no vice or sin I haven't dipped into, that ever satisfied my wishes. If you came here to offer more temptations then-"

"I offer you your life."

He finished off his wine before placing it alongside the filled cup, a manic smile threatening to spill forth, "Is that a threat?" He couldn't stop the amused chortle from escaping, "You've presumably observed me well enough to know that I don't brook threats."

"And I do not threaten like some base creature," The figure countered, head turning slightly to regard him, "Your hubris has finally caught onto you. Those you treated as playthings come here now, and you will not survive this night without my aid."

"Your aid? A rather inflated sense of importance, don't you think?" He tapped the wand at his side, "The game isn't over yet, my dear. So long as the king stands there's always a chance for a reversal."

"This is your last chance," She warned, "Help us in our goals and I can guarantee your safety, refuse and-"

"Explosion."

The incantation was announced before she could finish her declaration. Watching through bored eyes, he observed the orange sphere expand for a moment before the figure vanished in a wave of black wings prior to the explosion reaching her. Staring at the scorch mark marring the center of his room, he sighed and sat on the lavish bed, deliberating her warning.

Given the urgency in which she had appeared it was easy enough to assume that his 'doom' was coming for him relatively soon.

Which meant he needed to make plans. It wouldn't have been the first time he had to defend himself against assassins, but there was always a reason he chose to be on the attack rather than the defensive.

Hmm...how many people were in the castle right now?

Julio shivered and rubbed his hands from underneath his jacket, giving his horse a final pat on the head. The Gallian night air was even colder than Tristain's, as hard as that was to believe, and his choice of company did little to alleviate the cold.

Agnes trudged ahead of him silently, her few musketeers following after her dutifully. Queen Henrietta had agreed to rescue Lady Tabitha's mother, but of course she was of a lower priority. He had no doubt she wished to rescue her mother herself, but she could do more good in the castle than this seemingly abandoned villa. He couldn't deny a desire to aid in rescuing Miss. Valliere as well, but his combat capabilities were far weaker when he had no clear advantage.

The musketeer captain stopped walking and raised her hand, signalling for them to pause, "There it is," She nudged her head to the seemingly abandoned villa. Despite the nature of its guest he saw no guards, not even dogs to act as sentries. Looking up he saw Azuro flying overhead, passing over the house as quietly as he could. As tempting as it would have been to charge in with overwhelming force it would have been better if they left no traces of their presence here.

Agnes hesitated for a moment before pulling the hood over her dyed hair, he and the other musketeers quickly following suit. Despite the seeming lack of guards they couldn't afford any risks. Julio circled his hand through the air, signaling Azuro to wait a short distance away. If an altercation happened unnecessary deaths needed to be avoided and elder dragons weren't exactly well-known for being gentle.

"...No one here, captain." A musketeer with short red hair stated, looking around the area warily, "You sure we got the right place?"

"It's what that girl with the glasses said..." Agnes bit her lip and touched the handle of her flintlock anxiously. Truthfully she had her doubts on whether this was the best idea: She was a knight and bodyguard, not some kind of spy. Daphne and Amethyst would have been a far better for a covert extraction, but she understood their placement - Miss. Valliere was of far more import to Her Majesty compared to the mother of a turned asset.

"Keep an eye out." She looked back at the group and pressed a hand on the ajar door, pushing it lightly.

Darkness was the only thing to greet them. Julio hummed to himself softly as he took in the surroundings of the villa: Despite its seemingly abandoned state the paintings and various finery made it clear that money went into the upkeep. "Hmm..." He traced a hand against the wall, noting the dust sticking to his gloved fingertips. This place hadn't been taken care of in a while.

"Any idea on where we should begin our search, Sir. Agnes?" He asked.

"We sweep and check every room." She swept her arm across the interior, "Stick together. I don't want us to be caught unawares by anything in here."

The rest of the rooms proved just as empty as the entrance chamber. With every empty room they passed Julio could see Agnes' patience wearing thin, her fellow musketeers growing more and more wary as it became uncomfortably clear that there was no one else here. Closing his eyes briefly, he raised his left hand and signaled for Azuro to double back to the house. Their search was drawing to a close and whether they found her or not a quick escape would have been preferable.

With every room they passed Agnes felt her nerves worsening. While the duchess was the lowest priority among their three targets they still expected something, a token amount of resistance if nothing else. She'd brought her most promising musketeers for a reason, and yet with every room or hall they passed only dust and painting greeted them. It was as if the place was devoid of life.

Her opinion only worsened the more rooms they inspected. Still no guards, but definite signs of luxury and that the place had been lived-in at one point: Paintings, fine ceramics, ornate beds and furniture...why would anyone leave them here? If the place was going to be abandoned why wouldn't they take the valuables with them? Hell if there weren't any guards why in the hell wouldn't looters sack this place for all it was worth?

This was far too bizarre.

"Right, this is the last one." Agnes gestured to the final door at the end of the hallway. If they didn't find anyone here then the entire thing would've been nothing more than a colossal waste of time.

Pushing open the door with a her free hand, her eyes swept across the room quickly. The Duchess De Orleans lay in the bed, her emaciated form eerily still and her eyes closed. Asleep or dead? She shook her head. That wasn't the problem now.

A figure sat close by, his wide brimmed hat masking his expression. Despite the armed group not-so-subtly intruding into the room he didn't bother to look up, his gaze focused on the book atop his lap, "Are you the guests I was told to expect?" He flipped the page of his book. Agnes could barely make out his soft voice over the din of birds chirping outside, "I was told to capture this one's daughter; not deal with common mercenaries and thugs."

"Change of plans then." Agnes trained the gun on him, "We're leaving with the woman. We don't want to hurt you, so let us do our job and-"

"Wait, Sir. Agnes..." Julio cautioned, brows furrowed as he stared at the figure, "He is no normal bodyguard."

"What-"

"Your friend is correct." The book closed with a snap as the figure stood, arms rigidly at his side, "I do not know what your employers are offering for this woman but I give you one chance to walk away now. I was tasked with taking her daughter only, but if you press this I cannot be held accountable for any pain you might incur."

He finally looked up to meet their gaze and they all froze. His face wasn't distinct in and of itself, but the pointed ears pushing through the yellow strands of hair was enough to instill a primal fear in them all: An Elf, a Firstborn, a Demon...dozens of names and curses ran through Agnes' mind at the sight. Even with her experiences with Tiffania she knew that they weren't to be underestimated.

"Now what would an Elf be doing working for Gallia's king?" Julio murmured, clenching his left hand behind his back. If they were to continue this rescue then they needed something more than mere guns, "Indulge my curiosity."

"I am not here to answer your questions, human." He scoffed, "Turn around right now and we shall forget this altercation ever happened, or stay and face the consequences. It is your choice."

"...Sir. Agnes?" Julio looked to the musketeer, his voice soft, "I'm afraid it's your prerogative which course of action we will take. Queen Henrietta entrusted us with this task, but I doubt she expected us to run into such resistance. She would not fault you for turning your back on this."

He saw her bite her lip, fists clenching as she looked at the Firstborn in front of her. He didn't blame her; they'd all been taught to equate them to the Devil and unlike Lady Tiffania he was unlikely to be some untrained innocent.

It was a difficult decision to make, of course: Stories of Elven cruelty and prowess were well-known, but actual factual accuracy was difficult to ascertain. Some claimed they could summon the spirits themselves to do their bidding, others still spouted that their bodies were nothing more than disguises hiding the demons within. They were invulnerable from harm, that they never aged, that they could drag you to Helheim with a mere look...it was difficult to separate reality from the fear-induced fantasies.

He couldn't tell whether it was loyalty or foolishness that dictated her next words.

"We're taking the woman with us." She whispered back, eyes never leaving the unexpected sentry.

"Are you certain-"

"Yes..." Her next words came in a strangled hiss.

"...As you wish."

Another sentry.

Ciaran quickly came up behind the yawning guard and wrapped her arms around his neck, constricting the flow of oxygen. He struggled briefly, hands grasping feebly at her wrists to try and pull her off, but his movements eventually ceased. The Lordsblade tossed the body over her shoulder and sat him against the wall; better not to leave any unnecessary corpses for others to find. They had only one target.

"This way." Her temporary 'partner' muttered, pointing to the broken arch, "There's a loose roof tile. We can go in through there."

She nodded back silently and waited for her to levitate herself upwards before beginning her climb. It had been years since she'd been on a mission like this, but the memories of her training never faded: Looking for the loose stones to hoist herself up, ears listening for every possible footstep or breath of the unseen sentries. Her days as a Knight of Gwyn were coming back to her.

While she cared little for this mission - save the possibility of finally keeping Princess Tiffania safe from harm - she wasn't ashamed to admit the feeling of satisfaction coursing through her with every step and climb she took. She felt...alive; after decades of killing petty bandits for cheap rewards and living every day like a half-dead amadain having a sense of purpose, even for a brief moment such as this, came as no small relief.

Now if only she didn't have to deal with her 'partner'...

Pulling herself up, she raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of two unconscious guards lying on their sides, "Took care of them..." The Gallian mumbled, pulling up the loose tile with her bare hands. Ciaran scoffed and took the heavy stone from her hands, setting it a short distance away. Despite her young age it was evident the girl was no rookie, but she still would have preferred to do this alone-

"Urghhh..."

Unsheathing her tracers, she ducked under the clumsy swipe and kicked back, forcing the sentry on his face, "It appears you did not do a proper job..." The second guard scrambled to stand, his eyes blank and his mouth hanging loosely. Ciaran's eyes narrowed as he attempted to claw at her; ignoring his weapon entirely. The blade of her weapon met his neck, slicing open the flesh in a deep cut.

He ignored it.

"...Undead." She grit her teeth and prepared herself to strike more severely before chanting reached her ears.

The Gallian waved her staff and released a torrent of razor wind, the invisible blades cutting the second sentry's head clean off his shoulders. Not letting up, Ciaran jumped onto the remaining guard's back and stabbed him through the neck. When dealing with Undead one of the easiest ways to dispose of them was to sever their head from the rest of their body.

The corpse convulsed briefly before lying still. Ciaran sighed and pulled away the bloody blade, "...Undead are a plague that cannot be erased, it seems..." She wiped the golden blade on the cloth before re-sheathing it.

"Not Undead. Still alive." The Gallian knelt and turned over the corpse, ignoring the blood leaking onto her hands, "Didn't kill him earlier. Couldn't have."

"I have seen no human act in such a way."

"I have." She stood and gestured back to the hole. The madman used Andvari's ring, he must have. He was determined to make as many suffer along with him, "We need to hurry. Before more people die."

"Lead the way."

The cramped narrows of this so-called secret passage reminded her far too much of previous missions. She wasn't delusional: While she was a knight first and foremost, she was called an assassin for a reason. While Ornstein was fighting dragons in open fields and her beloved saved New Londo from the Darkwraiths she killed whoever it was her Lord Gwyn deemed to be a threat to the realm. Glory and honor had no place here; hidden between the cracks and dust, killing leaders before 'honorable' war could be undertaken.

Murderers and Rapists...Kings and Queens...Priests and Judges; the line between good and evil blurred over the years. And now here she was once more attempting to kill a king...it comforted her to know some things would never change.

Through the small cracks in the passage she made out a few details. She could hear muffled screams, shadowed figures chasing after fleeing silhouettes. It appeared the entirety of the castle had fallen under the thrall of this pseudo-Darksign.

The Gallian held up a hand, "Passage ends here." She tapped her staff against the wall and chanted another spell, pushing the loose stone away with a wind spell. How she knew of these passages wasn't known to the Lordsblade, but she wasn't one to question circumstances needlessly. From what she managed to gather she was family to this 'Mad King' and that was good enough of an explanation for her.

The smell of blood greeted them, "Another one..." She muttered, pointing to the twitching figure in the center of the room. All around her were fresh corpses, the wounds on their bodies numerous. Bite marks and scratches...not marks a blade or gun would make. Doubtful she did that on her own; the Hollows must have attacked those who had not succumbed to insanity.

It reminded her far too much of the first days...

Ciaran was the first to drop, the tracer going through her neck shortly after. She fell to the ground without a sound, the assassin grimacing from underneath her mask, "How far has the Undeath spread in this castle?" She knelt down and inspected the woman's clothes, "Must have been a servant of some kind," She muttered. The room they were in was filled with beds; servant quarters most likely.

"They are...were alive." Her guide fell silently, covering her nose to muffle the smell of blood in the air, "The madman has turned them insane...a final obstacle to provide a trial for us. He's taking as many people as he can with him before he perishes."

"Crazed madmen are a brief setback, nothing more." She scoffed. It would take far more than a few addled imbeciles to stop his coming death, "Come, you know where he would be at this time. Let us end this madness once and for all."

Raziel traced a hand through the dirt wall and frowned. The smell of rotting corpses were unmistakable and it permeated throughout the length of the passage. Tabitha had informed them that this was where the Witch dumped dead bodies from the dungeon. Despite the populations of the prison apparently nearing their breaking point there were few lawful executions.

Considering her mother's reputation for experiments, he doubted all those imprisoned above were criminals.

"Daphne, are you sure you're alright?"

His eyes snapped to his 'teammates'. While he wasn't foolish enough to believe he could do this alone he would have preferred aid other than nightstalker that were incapable of killing. He couldn't deny that they were powerful, but apparently something had happened to Daphne during the night of the Sleipnir's ball. While he had no place judging others on their mental stability the woman's unnatural silence was far too reminiscent of his days in Albion.

"...I'm fine, sister." Daphne mumbled, her eyes facing forward, "Let's just get Louise back..."

"Alright..." Amethyst bit her lower lip and said nothing more, rubbing the necklace she wore nervously. The gem had no shine or color to it; all the better for it to glow if the turncoat and the masked assassin failed in their task. She doubted she would be able to push through the conditioning to kill that bastard, but that was what Louise's Familiar was for. From what she'd seen he had absolutely no restraint when it came to killing.

"...Looks like we're here." Amethyst looked around the pit and sighed at the sight of dried corpses lining the holes of the wall. She'd seen far too much to be sickened by the sight of the dead, but it was still off-putting to focus on it for too long, "At least your friend wasn't lying when she told us of this place's purpose."

"She is not my friend." Raziel looked up at the hatch and frowned. Too high to just jump, "Can you get up there?"

"Easy."

He watched silently as she climbed up to the hatchway, clawed fingers digging into dirt. She reached a hand for the wood and groaned in frustration as it refused to move. Must have been locked from the other side, she surmised, "Well, so much for quiet."

Raziel looked away slightly as she punched through the wood, pushing the thick barrier out of the way, "Hope no one heard that." He muttered. Granted he wasn't too worried about getting caught; even in the chance they were found their disguises - or face changes, in the Vampires' case - made them all but unrecognizable and they could incapacitate any that found them before a panic would be incited.

"...It's clear." She called down.

Nodding, Raziel prepared to climb up before Daphne pulled him close. Before he could say anything in protest she jumped, clinging to the wall like a spider, before passing her sister and landing on the dusty stone of the dungeons, "Faster this way..." She mumbled, almost unheard between the moans permeating the rest of the passage, "Make sure to put on your disguise..."

"Thank you." He stepped away and pulled his hood tighter over himself, his eyes spying the purple cloth peeking over the sleeves of his jacket. A good luck charm...hopefully it worked, though he had stopped believing fate ever gave him fortune long ago, "According to Tabitha the dungeon exit passes to the open hall. Assuming Louise is not here we will have to check the rooms."

"I can put any guards we see to sleep," Amethyst dismissed, wiping the dust off her jacket's sleeves, "Come on, we shouldn't waste time."

"I shall follow your lead then."

Raziel trailed after the elder Vampire sister silently, doing his best to muffle his footsteps. Due to the late hour of the night many of the prisoners were asleep and those that did catch sight of them had their screams cut short by Amethyst lulling them to sleep, reduced to simply muttering cries for help half-heartedly. He got the distinct feeling that they'd gotten used to seeing apathy from anyone who visited here for them to consider their unexpected arrival as anything to truly hope about.

The smell stuck to him immediately: Not only the lingering smell of copper, but a vile mixture of urine and feces. How long had these prisoners been treated in such a way, forced to wallow in their own blood and filth?

"I don't see Louise in any of the cages..." Amethyst muttered. It was simultaneously relieving and frustrating; they would have to enter the palace proper and risk exposure but at the very least her godchild hadn't been tortured for the month they waited before they could rescue, "We should check elsewhere." She rushed to the dungeons entrance and pushed it open as quietly as she could.

"We check the rooms then." Raziel fingered Derflinger's hilt. The Queen had ordered them to keep casualties to a minimum, but if they met the Witch they needed to be prepared. He expected her to be by the madman's side, in which case he could only hope that Tabitha and Ciaran were adept to kill her on their own. Hopefully the element of surprise would be enough to keep her from putting up a proper resistance.

"Stop."

Raziel looked up and frowned at the sight of two guards a short distance from the dungeon's entrance. The smell of blood was...it was almost overpowering now. Off to the side he saw Daphne shake her and cover her nose while Amethyst muttered something under her breath. The Vampire reached a hand out, willing them to sleep. They didn't need to shed any unnecessary-

"Hrahhhhh!"

Damn it!

One of the pair turned and charged at them, his eyes a blank white and his jaw hanging loosely. Instinct kicking in, Amethyst's hand struck and grabbed the crazed man's neck before she paused. His eyes were empty, his behavior exactly like that of a rabid animal, but there was something unmistakably there: A heartbeat. This...man was still alive.

"Not again...!" Raziel growled, kicking over the second one as he charged. Not letting him up, he unsheathed Derflinger and sliced the blade clean through the neck, severing it from the rest of his body. Memories of Albion rushed back: The madness enveloping the entirety of the town, the Witch burning him alive...Manus awakening fully for the first time. It was that Witch's fault...

"A little...assistance here...!" Amethyst grimaced as the bearded sentry tried to claw at her. With an annoyed groan she threw him against the wall, ignoring the burst of pain that ran up her head at the action, "Kill him already!" She snapped to the Undead.

Complying with the command, he stabbed the tip of Derflinger's sword through his brain and twisted. Regardless of whatever similarity they shared these people were alive. They couldn't survive the injuries he received...he supposed he should have been happy they weren't as durable as even the most basic Hollows back in Lordran.

"That was...unexpected." Amethyst turned away from the pooling blood, "You said 'not again', have you faced these before?"

"Back in Albion with Louise..." He pinched the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth. That was a memory he would have preferred not to dwell on, "The Witch was responsible for the armies turning against one another...I did not know she would be mad enough to turn the entirety of the castle mad as well."

"Those prisoners weren't insane..." Daphne cut in softly.

"She likely saw no use for them." Amethyst replied, "Come, we must hurry. If Louise is trapped in this pit then we need to make sure she's not one of them as well-"

Daphne pushed her out of the way as a large figure fell. Jumping back, the Vampire glared at the construct: A gargoyle of some kind, easily dwarfing them all with a large halberd in its hands. How did they not see it? She shook her head; no time for that now. Just barely she heard Raziel mutter something something akin to 'not again' before he jumped on its back, sword cleaving through its wings.

The construct screeched in seeming pain, summoning more of its brethren. Beside her Amethyst growled in annoyance, hands already moving to summon a bolt of lightning. These creatures weren't alive, they had no need to hold back.

"Let's do this quickly..."

What the hel was going on!?

Louise backed away from the locked door, heart beating against her chest in loud bursts. She had woken up not too long ago and attempted to sneak out once more before she saw them...feeding on one another. Just like Albion...she should have know that mad monster and his Familiar were responsible for it. Who else would find enjoyment out of meaningless slaughter?

"It's happening again..." She closed her eyes and sat, knees tucked into her chest and her breath shaky. The events of Albion had left their mark on her, but she had always been able to move past it before because the others were there. Raziel, Julio, Tiffania, the Princess...it had been rare for her to be truly alone in recent days. But here she was alone, cut off from anyone that could offer her support.

Her head snapped up at the sound of something banging on the door, "No, no, no..." She wasn't going to die here, not like this. Not before she saw them again, "Come on, Louise, get up...!" She forced herself to stand and tossed open the dresser. She didn't have a wand, but there had to be something here she could defend herself with, "Come on, come on!" She tossed the dresses over her shoulder. Even a splinter would be better than nothing-

Found one.

She grabbed the sewing scissors with shaking hands. It must have been forgotten by the room's previous owner. Still, she wasn't one to look a gift griffon in the mouth. She wasn't a natural killer like Raziel, but...but at least it gave her a chance.

The banging grew more desperate and she saw the lock straining to keep the door in place. Swallowing her nervousness, Louise held the scissors close to her chest and hid under the bed. She would...would kill him if she had to, but she wasn't an idiot: She wouldn't pick a fight if she could avoid it.

It wasn't long after she was safely under the mattress that the door fell off its hinges, quickly followed by the sounds of what seemed like pained groans. Doing her best to make herself appear smaller, she shuffled deeper into the darkness and prayed her heart wasn't as loud as it seemed.

She counted three- no, four pairs of feet. Most of them were caked in blood, which did little to sooth her nerves. She closed her eyes and held her breath as she heard them tear apart the room, overturning tables and tearing down the dresser, 'Please, please just leave!', She thought desperately, resisting the urge to vomit, 'Please just leave, just get the hel away from me and leave me alone!'

As if answering her prayers three of the four left the room, leaving only one more in the room. Louise clenched her hands and debated internally whether to risk attacking him: No rescue was coming for her, at least not now, so she needed to find her own way out. She had no idea what possessed that bastard to kill off his entire castle - knowing him there was no reasoning for it - but she wasn't going to waste this chance. This might have been her only opportunity to escape this little piece of helheim.

The boots drew closer to her. Before she could move away or think of anything else to do a hand groped blindly underneath the bed and grabbed her leg.

"No, no, no!" She should have kept calm, figured out a plan of some kind. Anything besides kicking at the dark figure and screaming like a frightened child, "Let me go, let me go damn it!"

One kicked finally connected with her jaw and she scrambled away, trying to escape the crazed woman. She didn't get far, however, before she felt tenacious hands grabbing at the ends of her hair and pulling, refusing to let her go, "Ah! Ow, damn it!" She let loose another string of expletives and stabbed back, trying to hit any flesh with the scissors dull blades.

She felt the impact hitting against the figure's leg, tearing through the fabric of her dress, but she continued to pull. She was stronger than her, she couldn't fight back like this. She needed to face her properly.

Taking a deep breath to brace herself, she ceased attempting to stab her leg and brought the scissor's edge through her pink hair. The pain from the dull blades cutting through her hair was mercifully brief, and it was enough for the madwoman to fall from the suddenness of the act.

Not letting her get her bearings, she clambered atop the older woman and stabbed the already bloody scissors into her head. She could hear the woman scream in pain, hands scratching and pawing at her, but she refused to relent. She wasn't going to die here like this, not after everything she'd been through.

The woman's struggles eventually ceased. Louise released an exhausted breath and let the cutting implement drop. Her arms had open wounds, she was covered in blood and she felt as if she was about to faint...but she was alive.

"Now I just need to find a way to escape past the other hundreds of other madmen and get past the border back to Tristain...easy." She laughed bitterly. Picking up the scissors again, she cut the bottom off the fresh corpse's skirt and wrapped it around her arms. The cloth felt itchy against her skin but it was better than using silk. At least this would stop her from bleeding too much.

"Gotta leave..." She stood up shakily, keeping the scissors close to herself. She internally scoffed; what was she going to do? Fight her way through the castle with scissors? She got lucky this time and it cost her most of her hair-

What was that?

The screams grew louder. Pain, they were screaming in pain. More madmen? Her legs shook and she had a hard time keeping herself upright. Could she hide under the bed again? No, she was found the first time. Perhaps it would have been better for her to run. If she was lucky she would be able to outrun the madmen before they realized she was there.

"Here."

The lucid words caused her to pause, long enough for her to hesitate in her plan. Raising the scissors in front of her, she retreated until her back fell against the wall as she caught sight of the unfamiliar figures entering the room. One male and two females, none of which she recognized. Their gazes weren't blank empty like the crazed servants, but that gave her little relief. In the month she'd spent here she'd learned there was no one she could truly trust, sane or not.

"S-Stay back!" She cursed herself for sounding to scared, but the damage was done. She raised the bloody scissors and did her best to give an intimidating glare, "Touch me and you-you all die! I mean it!"

The reaction wasn't what she expected. The man leading the group blinked in seeming surprise at the warning before calling out to her, "Louise..."

"Wh-Who are you!?" She shouted back. More of the Mad King's tormentors? She wasn't going to let her guard down so easily, "J-Just back off, damn it! You're not mindless like the others so you can understand that, can't you!?"

"Louise, please put the scissors down." One of the women behind him pleaded, her voice soft (and eerily familiar). For a moment she almost complied with the plea, her thoughts almost hazing over, but she held strong. She didn't come this far to die because someone said please.

"She doesn't recognize us..." The last one muttered.

"She...oh, of course." The male sheathed his blade and took off the glove covering his left hand. Louise's eyes remained narrowed pale skin was exposed and-

Impossible.

Louise's mouth parted as she caught sight of the runes lining the flesh. It...It must have been a trick of some kind. Raziel was...Raziel had no idea she was here, and even if he did she didn't remember him looking like that, "How...How do you have those?" Against her better judgement she found her grip on the dull scissors weakening, "Are you one of her golems! Is that it!?"

"Louise, it's us..." The woman to her left lowered her hood and chanted a soft incantation. Her face shifted, the flesh molding itself like clay, before finally settling on big sis Daisy, "We're here to rescue you."

"Th-This..."

"It's us." The last one reassured, pulling up her older sister's hood to her face once more, "Daphne, I understand that you're happy to see her but we have to follow orders. We can't risk this coming back to harm us."

"What the hel is going on!?" Louise interrupted with a scream, "If-If it's really you then how are you here!? How did you..."

"Long story, not something we have time to explain right now." Raziel took a step forward, hands raised in a calming gesture, "That madman turned the entirety of the castle insane. You remember the events of Albion, do you not? We were lucky enough to escape death there once, let us not press it a second time."

"Albion..." No one else knew about the events that transpired between them: Nearly killed after half the army went mad, surviving death by the skin of their teeth in Saxe-Gotha. She felt tears spilling from her eyes as the scissors dropped, her knees almost buckling. Reaching a hesitant hand out, she wrapped her arms around her former Familiar and pulled him into a desperate embrace. His chest was soaked with drying blood but she didn't care; it was him, they were here for her.

"Louise..." Cold arms returned her embrace and she smiled. Already she could hear big sis Amy urging them to leave, but she relished the moment for as long as she was able, "Louise...she is right, we have to go."

"R-Right." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes and a wide a smile on her face, "Lets go home."

"Now!"

Agnes was slack jawed for a moment following her announcement at the sight before her. The priest's dragon crashed through the window, jaw wide open in preparation for consuming the Elf in the center of the room, before it stopped. The Elf raised his hand, his expression of infallibility never once breaking, and the dragon...stopped.

She didn't mean it backing away; the dragon literally froze mid-charge, mouth twitching as it struggled with the invisible binds it seemed to have been captured with. Still, it accomplished what it set out to do: The Firstborn's attention was drawn to the trapped dragon and away from the Duchess.

Following her own command, she ran to the bed and picked up the Duchess before doubling back out of the room. Just barely she could see the Elf's attention divert to her for a moment before the rest of the musketeers fired, drawing his attention away from her. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that would be enough to kill him; entire crusade armies had lost against Elves despite significantly outnumbering them. This wouldn't be any different.

The only thing they could do was run.

Bidashal watched the hooded figures leave with a sigh. Working as that madman's slave wasn't ideal, but he was the only one in this country of barbarians willing to deal with them. Granted he didn't expect to be anything more than a diplomatic envoy but if his temporary servitude allowed them to find the successors of the demon Brimir then he would bear with it.

Which brought him to his current situation. Giving the elder Air Dragon in front of him a look of pity, he whispered an apology before he swept his hand to the left, the dragon following his strike and smashing against the wall. Such a majestic creature reduced to nothing more than a slave and a distraction. He would offer a prayer to the spirits later and ask for forgiveness for his actions.

He walked to the hole in the wall and watched as the mercenaries ran to the forest, his 'ward' in tow. Perhaps they hoped to outrun him, maybe there were others in the forest that they hoped would come to their aid; it mattered not. He would accomplish his tasks so long as their alliance held.

Back with her group, Agnes muttered a string of curses as the Duchess struggled in her arms. She'd been told beforehand that the collaborator's mother had been driven to madness, but with the Elf at their back she had no time to deal with her mad ramblings, "Hurry up!" She yelled back at the stragglers. Julio had told them his pet wouldn't be able to hold the bastard at bay for very long.

"Where is Charlotte!? Where you are you taking me!? Charlotte!" The emaciated woman screamed, struggling her arms.

"Shut up!" She smacked the woman's jaw, silencing her cries. She would get a lecture for that later, but right now she would focus more on trying to escape the damned Elf no doubt already chasing after them, "Everyone, stick together! If we separate in here we're going to get picked off one-by-one!"

Hoisting the woman across the horse's back, she did her best to ignore the rapid beating of her heart against her chest as she spurred her mount forward. She didn't know what to do even as thoughts came and went. Go to the nearest village? No, that would just lead to more people getting slaughtered. Fighting back against the Elf wasn't an option, especially not with the way he froze that damned dragon with a flick of his hand.

What was their endgame? Even now she could feel a part of her screaming, arguing that they should have just left the Duchess behind. But for what, another part of her argued. Assuming the others didn't fail coming back with the kid and the twins would have been possible but there was an equally likely chance that once news spread of the Mad King's death that Elf would kill her; or at the very least she would be moved far away from the seemingly abandoned villa.

"Do you have a plan, Sir. Agnes?" Julio called out, spurring his horse to match her speed, "I'm afraid we bit off more than we can chew with this."

"You're the one whose been around crusaders, so I'm open to suggestions."

"Ahaha..." His laughter was noticeably strained. The priest looked back for a moment before turning back to her, "In all honesty I cannot see us succeeding in this endeavor. If we had some of the others here to aid us then perhaps: Raziel, Sir. Ciaran, Lady Daphne and Lady Amethyst would have at least given us a chance."

"What about you? Last I checked you could chuck lightning from your hands."

"My capabilities are no more severe than those of Azuro's, and you saw for yourself how he fared when he attempted to aid us." He grimaced, right hand clenching, "I will do my best to aid you if we're pushed to combat but the best choice right now would be to- Look out!"

Agnes faced ahead and pulled the reins of the horse as hard as she could, but it was too late. Through the darkness she saw the branches and roots bending and twisting to form a wall in their path. The horse attempted to slow in response to her pull but she still found herself and the duchess falling from the saddle as her mount collided headfirst into the solid wood, the rest of the group quickly following.

The musketeer grunted as she landed painfully on her back, "Ah! So on of a..." She shook her head and forced herself to ignore the pain. They needed to keep moving, "Stick together!" She picked up the insane duchess and tried to balance herself. She couldn't see anything in this darkness, but she knew running would be the lesser of two evils in this scenario, "Watch each others backs and shoot if you see anything!"

No sooner had she yelled out that command did she see a tendril of wood grab Sully by the leg and drag her away before her fellow musketeers could react. Agnes fumbled for her gun and aimed - made much more difficult with the woman in her arms - but she was already gone.

"Shit! Chesare, shine some light! We can't continue like this!"

Mercifully the priest followed her command without a single comment. Looking around her surroundings, she noted quickly that apart from Sully the three other Musketeers she had brought with her were still present, albeit with a few injuries from the sudden stop and the horses piling onto one another. Hah...at least she'd lost 'only' one of the soldiers under her command. Considering she'd lost nearly half the group when that bastard Menvil had sacked the school she supposed she should have considered herself lucky.

She shook her head. Now wasn't the time for self-pity and angst.

Another tendril, she could see it snaking its way to Olivia this time, "Watch out!" She aimed the flintlock and pulled, the bullet tearing through the wood with a large snap, "Run!" She side-stepped the wall and ran, the others quickly following her. Their horses were shot and she didn't know where they were going but it was better than staying here.

They didn't get too far, however, before they were intercepted once more. Looking to the side, she braced herself at the sight of the rising wave of earth coming to greet them. She flew through the air for a moment before landing painfully on her back, the duchess' weight only worsening the impact.

"D..Damn it..." She coughed and struggled to breath.

Before she could stand she felt another vine snake around her leg and drag her roughly against the ground. She fumbled for her sword to try and cut away the offending appendage before something heavy smashed against her wrist, forcing her to drop her weapon with a cry of pain.

Before she could fully grasp what was happening she was slammed against the trunk of a large tree and 'cocooned' in a thick nest of vines and earthen appendages. Just barely she could see the rest of her group being similarly 'cocooned', their struggles bearing no more fruit than her own.

By the time it ended the only thing left uncovered had been her eyes. She pushed and struggled, ever resorting to trying to bite her way through the wood, but it was all to no avail, "Mmph!" Julio and the rest of her musketeers were out there, she had to do something.

Soft footsteps eventually broke the silence. Agnes glared venomously as the Elf walked into the center of their 'circle' and took the unconscious Duchess in his arms, "I warned you to turn back and walk away." He released a frustrated breath, "Whether it was coin or loyalty that drove you I cannot say, but I will not take your lives unnecessarily. I shall leave with the Duchess once more and take her elsewhere: Follow me, and this mercy will not be given a second time."

And just like that he was gone, vanishing into the darkness. Agnes screamed and cursed, but in the end she lay against the bindings limply. There was no other way she could describe it - She had made the wrong call and while they escaped with their lives here they lay trapped.

He didn't know how long they hung there but eventually the vines released their hold on them and they all but collapsed on the ground, "God damn it!" Agnes punched the ground in frustration. All of this, and they were disciplined like naughty children. The Duchess was gone, and she wasn't willing to test her life and the lives of everyone else in agitating the demon that could kill them with a mere thought.

"It...It appears we escaped with our lives...I don't think we will be so lucky next time," Julio intoned, hands rubbing the bruises on his neck, "Well, Sir. Agnes...what do you wish to do now?"

"Just..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Just...let's find Sully and go back. We have to tell Queen Henrietta that we...failed."

Death was a funny thing.

Well, no it wasn't, but it sounded like the kind of thing many people would think of.

Joseph stood up from his throne and walked to the large tables lining the side of the room. Ah, how many banquets had there been in this room alone? Of course all too often it led to poisonings, blackmail and insinuations about lack of virility, but it was all part of the fun in his opinion. Before he became king everything was just so...polite; at worst you get a Duchess making a disparaging comment about one's shoes. Absolutely tedious it was.

Ah, but what fun he'd had over the years. Perhaps it was a sign of pride but he had the distinct feeling that he had 'left his mark', so to speak, on his homeland. Whether it was his daughter or Charlotte or anyone else who hoped to ascend the throne, he had the distinct feeling they wouldn't be able to undo the changes he'd established; and that was if they even wanted to do so. It was much easier to slip a blade between someone's ribs or to put the right thing in someone's drink in order to get what you want. Much quicker and cleaner than drawn out alliances.

Speaking of assassins...

He smiled in manic glee as he heard the barely perceptible footsteps above him, fingers tracing the dagger he held. Most would have excused it as wind or creaking wood, but he knew better. It wasn't the first time someone had sent assassins after him and if he survived this night it wouldn't be the last. Even before he was given the title he had seen the lust for power that his father's courtiers and sycophants held for the crown and he often wondered if his more beloved younger sibling had been passed over in favor of him because their father had wanted to avoid the favored son from coming to possible harm.

Normally Sheffield was quick to warn him of attempts on his life - the benefits of a Familiar who had eyes and ears everywhere - but he had sent her to entertain his other guests. If the Queen had even half a brain she wouldn't send all her pawns to make an attempt on his life. He had no doubt others were mounting to rescue that girl or sabotage the castle's foundations so that it crumbled and killed everyone. Having her remain here would have kept him safe, but it also meant the possibility of losing.

And if there was one thing he hated more than ending the game prematurely, it was losing.

"Haste."

Ciaran's eyes widened, throwing knife held tightly in her raised hands. One of the many things she'd learned from her years as a Lordsblade: It was always better to be as far away from the target when you had the chance to kill them. In the best of circumstances her tracers wouldn't have needed to leave their sheaths, the only sign of her presence being a knife at their back or poison in the drink.

The monarch had disappeared, leaving no trace of his presence. She stood and looked around frantically, "Where did-"

"Boo."

The assassin turned and swung at the voice's origin, but he was faster. Just barely she caught sight of demented grin as he pushed, knocking her off her perch and sending her down into the open space.

Instincts kicking in, she sucked in a deep breath and braced herself as she landed on marble floor. The pain was brief and infinitely better than the alternative, "Ooooh, that looked like it hurt!" The madman's laughter echoed through the large chamber, "Well, this is new! I was expecting Charlotte or that Undead to come; I've certainly done enough to earn their enmity. But you...you I don't know. Would you give me the pleasure of a name, Miss...?"

He was toying with her. Keeping silent, Ciaran threw a knife at the ledge where he stood and suppressed a scowl as he disappeared once more. She'd fought others like him before, but there was always a drawback; a tell she could exploit, a sign of where they were to appear so she could lay a trap.

"Me again."

This time she attempted a kick, but it met with no more success than her previous attempt. He blinked from existence before appearing behind her, the dagger swinging into her back. She hissed and jumped away, trying to put some distance between them. Her armor had blunted most of the damage but even still she felt the ichor spilling from the cut and the sudden bout of dizziness as she righted herself.

'Poison...' She thought. She'd been harmed by toxins of all kind before and her physiology allowed her to fare better than others. Already she could feel her body attempting to freeze, her limbs becoming heavy. A prayer for a miracle was on her lips before she forced herself to stop; she couldn't risk her advantage at the earliest opportunity. She needed to find a way to weaken him first.

"Did the queen really send you here alone?" He asked aloud, giving a theatrical look at the seemingly empty chamber, "I must say I'm rather disappointed. After everything I did: Taking her best friend, instigating that war with Albion, the events in the ball...and all she sends is one assassin? I thought I would rate far higher in importance."

"Perhaps you place far too much importance in your deeds..." Another blink and he was gone. Ciaran backed herself against the wall and focused her hearing. There were no signs she could exploit, nothing she could take advantage of. At best she could try to limit his avenues for attack.

He came from above this time. The Lordsblade grit her teeth as boots crashed against her back, but she rolled away before he could use the poisoned blade on her once more. No delays, no pauses...nothing she could use to even wound him. She looked around for a moment before stepping closer to the corner of the chamber. She didn't have an opening, but the Gallian waiting outside could.

She would have to rely on her 'partner'.

Joseph laughed as the assassin threw another knife at him, shifting closer to her side. With a quick flash the blade once more found a place at her side, drawing a muffled scream of pain from the masked woman. He blinked away once more as she sliced the golden blade towards his chest. She was slowing down; the poison must have been doing its work.

"Something wrong, Miss?"

She was slowing, that much was obvious. She all-but limped to the corner and pressed her back to it, blades raised in front of her defensively. Did she think that would stop him from attacking her. Cute. With another incantation, he appeared at her side and raised his blade to strike at her porcelain mask.

-Now.

"Ice Storm."

The sounds of shattering glass was enough to cause him pause, long enough for Ciaran make a swipe against his stomach. On instinct he jumped back rather then willing himself away, which was enough for the tracer to make a shallow cut against the unarmored flesh.

Mentally chastising himself for the slip, he blinked away once more and let out a hiss at the sudden spike of pain on his right leg, "...Huh." He raised an eyebrow at the ice spike that embedded itself in his ankle. Looking to where he previously stood, he found a barrage of spikes jutting from from the floor before they quickly shattered. Charlotte was here, though where exactly he had no idea.

"Trying to surprise your uncle, Charlotte?" He called out mockingly. Pulling out the projectile with a small hiss, he winced and let the bloody icicle drop with a loud crack, "I'm disappointed. Here I am bearing myself to you and you don't even have the manners to show your face properly. Didn't your your parents raise you better?"

There. Pointing his wand at the blur running past the ledges above, he cast an explosion and watched as the stone crumbled. The poison would keep the assassin pre-occupied, meaning he could focus on his dear niece.

"Windy icicle."

More spikes, but this time he knew they were coming. Blinking closer to the throne, he was surprised to find the assassins already rushing to meet him, her blades drawn. The glint of the gold and silver blades were almost blinding as she stabbed them towards his chest.

A soft cry of pain escaped before he realized what was happening. Blinking away, he was forced to transport himself in rapid succession as another barrage of razor wind bombarded his position and the assassin began to catch up to where he blinked towards.

He needed a moment to catch his breath. Looking up at the narrow ledges, he reappeared at the edge of the pseudo-walkways and sucked in a deep, ragged breath. Pressing a hand against his bleeding chest, his mouth curled in a twisted smile as he felt the warm blood staining his fingers.

"Haha..." His smile widened, blood rising past his throat and coming in messy dribbles. He had lost...ha, intriguing. It was the price one paid for pride, he supposed, but he felt no sense of falling despite his circumstances. In his first machinations there was always a sense of risk, that one wrong move would spell his end. As the years passed the possible dangers abated and he felt a profound sense of boredom. What fun was a game when there was no risk of losing? Playing chess by himself would have been just as thrilling given how dull everything had gotten over the years.

Now he felt fear...but more than that he felt excitement. Win, lose...he was satisfied. It was time for this game to end. It was fun while it lasted.

Appearing in front of his throne, he saw the assassin pause as he threw away his wand and dagger, "You win." He laughed and sat on the throne, the pain in his chest worsening, "Kill me if you want, or let Charlotte do it. I'm not long for this world regardless." Another ragged cough came and went, "It doesn't matter. I'm the least of your problems...shame I won't see how the rest of it plays out."

Ciaran's eyes narrowed as she saw his right iris turn a shade of gold, "Well...it appears that Sheffield will be joining me soon." He strained to give an amused chuckle, his gaze never leaving her, "Is that your friend, assassin? I must say he appears all the worse for wear." He coughed into his hand, "Ah, but you're not interested in my ramblings. Come on then, Charlotte. Do you not wish to find some answers? Surely you're curious as to why I did it, why you had to suffer all those years-"

That was as far as he managed before another barrage of spikes came from above, piercing the entirety of his body. Ciaran released a held breath and sheathed her blades: He never screamed nor did he show any signs of pain. A final projectile ran through his forehead, causing his head to head to snap back with an audible crack.

And through it all the demented grin never faded.

A moment of silence passed before the Gallian landed next to her with a soft thud. The gave her a sideways look: Her face appeared as impassive as usual, showing no signs of conflict or turmoil, "...He's dead." A ghost of a smile played at her lips before passing just as quickly, "...Are you okay? The poison..."

"Nothing a miracle could not cure," She muttered. The insane monarch had assumed her to be nothing more than an ordinary assassin, a mistake he regretted making she was sure, "The madman called to you...I must admit I am surprised you did not take his bait. Many of your...others like yourself would have demanded an explanation."

In her experience humans always dwelt on the 'why' of things. Even when their world fell around them, even when everything was said and done, they always let curiosity get the better of them and asked for reasons and motives even when it changed nothing. Knowing reasons didn't change what happened, even if they desperately wished it so.

"I don't need to hear his explanation. He's dead now, that's all that matters." Tabitha replied, to which the assassin nodded. It was a practical mindset, sensible if nothing else, "...He said something before he died. His Familiar 'joining him'."

"Either joining him here or in death, though I doubt she is of any more concern. Chesare made it clear that in her master's death she would lose her abilities. If she appears once more she will be nothing more than a Daughter of Chaos; and she is nothing without her creations."

"She also said 'he' was 'all the worse for wear'...he might have been talking about Raziel."

"Try to find him in this castle if you wish, but I am leaving. We accomplished our task," She scoffed, "And you should know by experience that Manus does not fall so easily. A single Daughter of Chaos would not be able to fell him any more than others who have tried."

"Hmm..." Tabitha gave one last look at the smiling corpse of her tormentor before following the masked assassin. She was right; staying here was an inherent risk, one they couldn't afford to continue. Taking a moment to shatter the icicles, she took a deep breath and turned to leave as well. With any luck Raziel and the others could finish what they started tonight.

"We have to free the prisoners!"

Raziel looked back to his closest friend, mouth parting to refuse her plea, but she had already drawn the wand Amethyst had given her and was beginning to chant her spell, "Louise-"

"We were sent here to save you, Louise. We can't afford to risk your life saving the condemned," Amethyst cut in, moving to cut off her spell, "We risk enough as it is doing this, bringing them along would-"

"Leaving them here will kill them!" The pinkette countered. With a wave of her wand the door was consumed by a smaller explosion and fell of its hinges, the metal landing with a dull thud, "That...That demon used them to test her golems, treated them like...like playthings!" She stepped over the metal and tugged on the chain holding on the prisoners upright. It had only been a few days and already she saw far less of them than when she'd arrived here prior. She couldn't walk away from them, not like this.

"...Fine," Amethyst conceded, pinching the bridge of her nose, "We don't have time to waste so split up. We'll bring the prisoners out using the tunnel, but after this they're on their own. We can't sneak back to Tristain carrying a parade with us."

The three looked at one another and nodded, splitting off to different parts of the hall. Raziel moved next to Louise and pulled the chain she was grasping, snapping the long metal, "This is eerily familiar..." He muttered, watching Louise help the young man to his feet.

"Well hopefully this time we can actually accomplish something." She gave him a strained smile. She'd saved those Winged Ones in Albion and yet most of them ended up perishing when half the army went insane. Perhaps it was nothing more than a desire to no longer feel helpless, maybe she wanted to spite her captors or maybe it was nothing more than a bubbling sense of guilt. In the end it didn't matter; it wouldn't have changed what she decided to do.

"Free the others. I will deal with the rest."

"Right."

He watched briefly as she slung the young man's arm over her shoulders and met with her 'sisters'. Sighing softly, he made his way to the next prisoner on the wall and broke the chain with a quick tug. For all he knew these were actual criminals who just happened to fall prey to the Witch's machinations, but he was sure Louise would insist on saving them either way without certain proof of their guilt.

In a way it was comforting to see that she was still the same. A month trapped in this house of madness, uncertain if anyone would ever come for her. He had been expecting the worst, and while the state they found her in wasn't ideal she was still the same stubborn girl he'd gone through the entirety of the year with.

Now they just had to-

"Ah!" He fell on one knee as a sudden pain engulfed his head. Just barely he could make out Amethyst screaming something from down the hall, but his attention was drawn to the low snarling emanating from his side. The freed prisoner looked up at him from her place on the ground, her eyes blank and mouth open in a low growl.

"Hraaahhh!" She charged, knocking him on his back and clawing at his face. Doing the first thing that came to mind, he smacked her away with the chain he held in his free hand and forced her on her back. She twitched for a moment, another weak snarl emanating from her slack jaw, before Raziel stepped on her neck with a loud snap. Kill them quickly or they would get back up, he learned that the hard way.

Another burst of pain forced him to lean against the wall, "Ahhh..." His left hand pulsed, the interlocking metals almost burning the flesh of his palm. Looking down, he grimaced as another pulse ran through his body. Releasing the chain, he bit back a cry of pain and watched with morbid curiosity as the metal corroded and wrapped itself around his wrist, "Just what I needed..." He muttered sarcastically, moving his wrist experimentally. Odd...it felt almost weightless.

The pain eventually passed and he forced himself to stand upright. He would worry about it when they left this depraved pit, "Derflinger, what is going on?" He looked to his partner, but the sword remained resolutely silent, "What in the...no, no time for that now. Need to help others."

No sooner had he passed the broken door did he hear a frantic cry of 'Explosion' coming from down the hall. Raising his now-chained hand to cover his eyes, he walked past the madmen flung down the hallway towards him. At a glance he noted with some relief that at least some of the prisoners seemed to have kept their minds, if their hiding behind the three was any indication.

"Is everyone alright...?" Daphne asked, throwing the last of the insane prisoners away. Another buzz came and went, which she once again ignored, "Is that all of them?"

"N-No, there's one left." Louise put her hands on her knees and panted. Fear had made way for exhaustion at this point, not unlike her previous experiences, "The door's next to the pit, it shouldn't be long."

"I'll come with you..." Daphne offered, following the younger girl's lead with a nod.

Amethyst raised an eyebrow as he approached, eyes flicking to his blackened hand before frowning, "Thanks for the help." She crossed her arms in perceived disapproval.

"I was...preoccupied." He shook his head, biting back the insult he was tempted to respond with, "The prisoners were not drawn to insanity prior to our arrival. The Witch must know we are here."

"Agreed, so it'd be better for all of us if-"

"Leaving so soon?"

A knife flew from his hands before he realized what he was doing. Turning to the source of the voice properly, he sneered at the sight of a golem blocking the knife from harming the Witch. Just like her mother; hiding behind the grotesque corpses and malformed creations in order to keep herself from harm. Always acting smug and in-control even as she shielded herself from all possible harm.

Surrounding her were more of her constructs, along with more than a few of the madmen, their sheer numbers and size practically filling the wide hallway. Without another word he removed Derflinger from his sheath; he had hoped Ciaran and Tabitha would have been able to stop her, but they had to kill her themselves then he wouldn't shed any tears. He owed her far too much after everything she'd done to them.

"Raziel, we-" Louise halted, free hand immediately drawing her wand and pointing it at her kidnapper even as she supported a pale, hooded woman.

"Miss. Valliere, I see my master was correct in sending me to fetch you." Despite her words the Witch's smile was strained, the malevolent grin she wore obviously forced, "First you leave us after our hospitality and now you try to take these criminals and my sister away from me. I dare say you've been a very poor guest all around-"

"Explosion!"

Despite the ferocity of her incantation, two more gargoyles intercepted the blast in her place. Raising an eyebrow in silent amusement, the Void Familiar flicked two more stones on the floor; easily replacing the destroyed constructs.

They were at a disadvantage. A few of the madmen charged, mouths practically frothing with hunger, before a wall of earth erupted in the hall's center, "That won't buy us much time..." Amethyst muttered, looking back at the tunnel with a grimace. Already she could feel the madmen and golems battering at the wall, "She's here to take Louise back. We can't let her..."

"Agreed." Raziel looked at his former master and the rest of the prisoners. Protecting them like this wasn't feasible, "Louise...take the prisoners and escape with Daphne and Amethyst. I will-"

"No way!" She shook her head forcefully, "I spent a month here and I'm not going to leave you here like this! If you're staying then so am I!"

"Louise is right, you can't face her alone..." Daphne pressed her hand against the wall, creating a spear from the stone, "Amethyst, take Louise and the others and leave this place. Sir. Raziel and I will deal with her."

"Daphne, you can't-"

"Yes I can, sister." She gave her twin a harsh glare before her features softened, "Trust me, we can deal whatever she throws at us. Just...make sure to take care of Louise, alright? We'll see you soon."

Louise looked between the pair, clearly wanting to say more, before Raziel cut her off, "Louise, we do not have time to argue this. She will push through eventually and if she takes you back then all of this will be for naught." He did his best to offer her a comforting smile, "Once she and her master are gone you will be safe...that is worth risking our lives for."

"I..."

"Louise, please." Daphne pleaded, "Trust us, we can finish this." She looked to her sister, "Protect her, Amethyst. If we do not meet you then...then go back to Tristain. We will you back there."

"You...alright, sister." She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before grabbing Louise's shoulder, "Come, Louise. We have to make sure you and the others are out of her reach."

"Collapse the end of the hall when you leave. We must be certain she cannot chase after you..." Raziel suggested, moving down the hall and closer to the barrier.

Louise watched them both, her expression torn. All of this just to protect her, and now he was suggesting they trap them with that demon just to ensure the risk of being recaptured was marginally lessened. Her grip on the wand shook; it wasn't fair. She just wanted to go home with them all, not...not leave them to face that bitch alone while she was coddled like a child.

"Louise-"

"I-I'm coming!" She took a deep breath and aimed her wand upwards. She took one last fleeting glance at their backs before casting the incantation, "Explosion!"

Raziel looked back at the falling stones and breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he didn't have to worry about Louise being taken, but that still left the witch to contend with. Looking at his unexpected partner, she gave him a wordless nod as she prepared herself. The wall was practically crumbling at this point, "I'll put up another wall. It should thin the herd..." She said, "But we have to push when we lower their numbers. It'll never end as long as she's alive."

"...Can you kill them?" He asked back. The humans were insane, but their hearts still beat, "If you cannot then focus on the Golems. I will focus on the humans."

"I'll do what I must," She deflected, "Just focus on the woman. The ring on her hand...I can feel Spirit magic from emanating from it. It must be how she's driven these people mad. Take it out and her control over them fades."

"Noted."

The wall collapsed with a large boom, constructs and madmen in equal measure pouring from the wreckage. With a wave of her hand Daphne constructed another wall, cutting off a portion of the charging horde.

"Now!"

Here he was again, surrounded by the smell of fresh blood and being attacked by golems as the witch laughed. Dodging the clumsy swipes of the feral madmen, a swing of Derflinger's blade decapitated the closest one while Daphne stabbed her spear into another. She did her best to hide it, but he could see the way she flinched with every life she took. He didn't know how much longer she would last.

One of the gargoyles raised its halberd, ready to smite them for its master, before a bolt of lighting pierced through its chest. Daphne released a held a breath and focused her attention back on the wall. Her head throbbed with pain and everything was beginning to become hazy- No, she had to focus. She couldn't lose control now that they were so close.

The wall collapsed with another loud crash. Nodding to one another, they charged into the horde and began attacking the closest figures they could get their hands on. Raziel picked up a nearly madman and tossed him into the nearest cluster before summoning a pillar of abyssal fire. He still found it difficult to control his new 'blessing' fully, but any advantage they could use was paramount.

Off to the the side Daphne impaled her spear on the closest Titanite Demon's neck before the fire's appearance forced her to jump back, "Be careful...!" She hissed, glaring at her clumsy ally. Shaking away the pangs of fear, she summoned a hail of ice shards and impaled any living corpses and constructs trying to charge at her.

The screams of the half-alive humans being run through rang in her ears. Lowering herself to one knee, she punched the hard ground - causing cracks to appear on the surface - as she tried to drown out the cacophony, "Shut up, shut up shut up...!" She yelled hoarsely. The pain in her head and the sight of fresh blood staining the hall...everything was beginning to blur together.

Raziel looked worriedly as his partner nearly collapsed, her breathing ragged. Capitalizing on her weakness, a few more smaller golems attempted to charge her before he knocked them away with a wide swing, "Get up!" He grabbed her wrist and forced her to stand, albeit shakily. The Witch was running out of expendable bodies to throw at them, they wouldn't fall now.

Sheffield watched with slight boredom as the Undead was forced into the ground, daggers and blades piercing into his back. Despite her calm demeanor she could feel a rising sense of dread befall her; her golems were slowly but surely running out, though that would be an inconvenience at best. She worried for her beloved Lord - He had sent her away despite her protestations and pleading, and in the end his orders were gospel. While she would have preferred to stay by his side or to spirit him away till she dealt with the threats she couldn't push him against his will.

More golems came and went. Raziel grit his teeth and swallowed the black blood threatening to rise. The hallway's narrow space was an inconvenience, but he could still see its use. It limited their movements, but it also kept her from summoning her entire pack like she'd always done.

Still, he and Daphne couldn't last much longer. While the Vampire had managed to regain her footing and aid him he didn't miss the way her hands shook or the unfocused look in her eyes that grew steadily worse the more madmen she killed.

"The horde is thinning..." He shook off the latest stab wound and crushed the offending golem's head underfoot. His head pounded with every wound and he was finding it harder to resist the urge to abandon Derflinger altogether and give in to the madness like the others around him.

"We have to...to do it now." A burst of lightning covered her leg just before she kicked away the largest monstrosity blocking their way. Through the haze of dust she saw the woman's expression morph into one of surprise before she picked up a few more stones.

"Now!"

Raziel charged through the remaining constructs and madmen, ignoring their attacks and attempts to slow him down. From underneath her hood he saw the Witch's mouth part slightly in what he could only assume to be surprise before it returned to her lax smile.

"Typical."

A wall of crimson fire erupted from the ground, its width covering the entirety of the hall as it pushed towards them. At his side he saw Daphne scream something unintelligible as she turned and ran, trying to avoid the wall of flame.

It passed him with surprising quickness, but the damage was done. Chaos fire was the most powerful of the primal elements, not the least of which was due to their undying nature.

Raziel felt himself slowing as the fire began to spread across his body. He had tasted its blaze before, back when she had first toyed with him. Red flames licked every inch of flesh they could reach, uncaring of his desperate attempts to put them out. He knew it was pointless, knew the inferno would never abate so long as he 'lived', and yet he continued to desperately paw at the flames for even a moment of relief.

Fire...he was on fire. The Undead screamed, the sound hoarse and desperate, as pain engulfed his entire being. It was his choice: Light the Fires or engulf the world in Darkness, and in the end he had chosen the lesser of two evils. The alternative was madness and the Abyss like Oolacille...

At least this way only one had to truly suffer.

It was his choice...he told himself this always; a constant reminder that he had damned himself to this eternal torment.

Despite it all he could hear Daphne's agonized screams, her voice easily cutting through his pained haze. The Witch was laughing...taunting them, looking at them like bugs to be crushed underfoot.

Kill him...kill him...kill him. He would escape or pass on eventually, but Gwyndolin and all the rest would pay. Him, Frampt, Kaathe...any who had been involved in his torment would die. If he could give them even a fraction of the pain he endured he would die happy.

She was getting away.

Daphne was still screaming...he was surprised she hadn't lost her voice just yet. The Witch had turned to leave, two more golems at her side, no doubt content to let the fires consume them and go back to her depraved master.

Not like this...he wouldn't die like this. Forcing himself to stand, he felt his left hand corrode as the taint spread across his arm; the feeling oddly comforting despite its source-

"I do not need you..." He forced it down with a growl. All of this would be pointless if he lost his sanity. Focusing all his energy on suppressing the pain, he charged the witch and lashed out with the chain, the metal wrapping around her neck for a brief moment before he pulled her into the ground.

Her look of abject surprise was cathartic, and she didn't get more than a strangled 'What-' before he brought his fist down on her face as hard as he could.

The first strike rewarded him with an audible crack, followed by spilling ichor upon the second hit. She struggled; hands desperately trying to push him off and worsen the flames lapping at his skin in equal measure. From the sides he could feel the golems stabbing and pulling, trying to save their master from the monster she had underestimated.

He ignored them, fists continuing to pummel whatever part of her body he could reach. A trident was stabbed into his side while the other tried to shove him off, clawed hands digging into flesh as it pushed, but it was nothing to the flames. He could feel blood spill from every blow, the golden liquid landing on fiery hands for a moment before burning away from the heat.

It was easy to lose himself in the haze of madness, the strikes becoming more and more cruel as she tried to force out words. Time and again she and her master had been responsible for the trials they faced: Wales' death, the attack on Tarbes, the madness in Albion...it was enough to drive any man to insanity.

But he wasn't insane. Not Manus, not the shards...him. Everything he did now, he did of his own free will.

Her struggles eventually lessened, the golems at his side falling limply as their master relinquished control. He could feel the flames surrounding him fade, though not completely. Chaos Flame was a dangerous art, and extinguishing the flame could be achieved only in two ways - Through the death of the victim or the death of the caster. It established a certain bond, albeit fleeting.

That the flames hadn't been extinguished meant she was still clinging to life, albeit barely.

For the first time he truly looked at her. To call her a Goddess now would have been a misnomer - She appeared more like a broken pile of flesh and bones than a Daughter of Chaos; her limbs twisted in painful angles, bones jutting out of her midsection as she lied in a pool of her own ichor. Amazing...even now she refused to die; he would have found it encumbering if he wasn't guilty of it himself.

Her right eye turned a shade of blue. The Familiar's bond...that meant her master was in danger. Hmm...Ciaran didn't fall after all.

"L..Lord..Jo...seph-"

"Die already."

The last punch shattered whatever remained of her skull, finally extinguishing the flames.

Forcing himself to stand, he leaned against the wall and vomited out a short burst of black and red blood. It was over...the Witch was dead, and there was no coming back. Looking at her mangled corpse once more, he let the abyssal flame loose and allowed it to consume her remains. No body to come back from, no chance of resurrection...and hopefully wherever her soul ended it would be where she deserved.

"Ah..." With the Chaos Flame's disappearance came a sudden onset of chill, as if he had been submerged in ice, "Damn it..." He winced and removed the trident from his side, the warm blood falling down his side in a nauseating cascade. It was a miracle he could still force himself to stand. Even through the darkness he could see the nasty red and black burns on his arms and legs, and the very action of moving his head caused stinging pain.

The necklace had been spared destruction, and he cupped it with a shaking hand, "No light..." He forced a relieved sigh. Sheffield's death meant nothing if her master lived; that the gem hadn't been signaled was a good sign, if nothing else.

Now to leave this pit.

"Daphne...?" He stumbled and fell, landing with a disgusting smack on the dusty floor. In all honesty would have been a miracle if she was still alive. He didn't know the exact details on their physiology, but he had been told beforehand that they shared a certain weakness to fire. The reason they were incapacitated during the ball was because of those mercenaries' ring of fire, and even then he doubted the mercenaries had access to Chaos fire. It would be a miracle if she wasn't a pile of ashes like most of the dead.

"Get up...get up...!" He grit his teeth and held onto the wall as if his life depended on it, "Nothing to say...Derflinger?"

Nothing, as he had begun to expect.

By some miracle he found her, albeit her state was as he expected: Pale flesh marked with black-red burns, breaths almost imperceptible and eyes glazed over. Similar to him he could see black, brittle flesh surrounding exposed muscle colored a deep crimson. Even if one were desperate many would assume she had long since passed, but in the short time he'd known them they'd proven a tenacity that would make even Undead envious.

Sucking in a pained gasp, he knelt next to her and took a moment to compose himself. Pain was something he had gotten used ever since his first steps, but it felt...different now. His left hand twitched, the chain slowly feeling heavier on his wrist. He had felt the shards attempting to gain control, tempting him with comforts and a way to kill the Witch. While he doubted they were gone forever, perhaps his rejection had expelled their influences on him; at least to a degree.

Of course that also meant none of the benefits. Temptation was always sweeter when it gave you what you could never have otherwise.

"Daphne..." He reached a trembling hand to her shoulder and winced the unbearable warm emanating from her skin. It was as if he stuck his hand in a furnace, "We cannot stay here...Louise and Amethyst are waiting for us."

An agonizingly slow moment passed before she blinked, head shifting to make eye contact with him. Her mouth parted, and yet no words came. She was alive, that was all that mattered, "C-Come on..." He sucked in another cry of pain as he grabbed her arm with as much gentleness as he could muster. he could feel the skin cracking under his touch, flesh pulsing even more at the contact, "Just...Just lean on me. We can...find another way to leave this place."

As he forced himself to stand he didn't notice the fangs before they pierced the flesh of his neck.

"Ngh!" He fell on his back and screamed in unrestrained pain as Daphne bit into his neck hungrily, her grip like a vice, "L-Let go!" He punched at her head desperately, but only served to make her bite harder.

He didn't need blood like others, but the pain as she took it from him was no less agonizing. He could feel himself losing focus, consciousness coming and going despite his efforts to push her off and a chill spreading over body. If he didn't do something she would drain him off all his blood...and he would lose control himself.

"I...said...release me!"

Abyssal fire covered the entirety of his right hand and he punched once more, successfully dislodging her from his neck. Stumbling to stand, he threw another punch at the Vampire; hard enough to knock her against the wall.

"...Are you calm now?"

She charged at him once more, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the wall. Her eyes...empty and devoid of anything but hunger. He could feel a clawed hand tearing at his side, picking at the fresh wounds. She hungered for blood...and in her eyes he was nothing more than prey.

"Sorry..."

He pressed the flaming hand against her face, hard enough to elicit a scream. Rather than attempting to escape, however, he felt her picking at his wounds with the ferocity of an animal. She was trying to make him give in first, make him relent before her.

A few agonizing moments passed before he felt her grip slacken and she backed away, collapsing on her side. Whether she was dead or not he didn't know and Gods help him right now he didn't care. He knelt and pressed a hand at his side, trying to stifle the bleeding, "Damn Vampire..."

That last burst of fire took everything he had...at least Louise was safe and the witch and (hopefully) her master were dead...

Coughing another spout of blood, he collapsed next to her and let his consciousness fade.

And that's done. Man, this took over a week: Both because of my dislike of writing scenes of this nature and due to playing catch-up with years worth of comic books. Now I know more than a few of you will take issue with the way the scenes ended - along with Raziel and Daphne's fight with Sheffield being longer than the others - so I'm going to pre-emptively apologize for that. Hopefully the next chapter will be better.

Anyway, the content of the chapter changed heavily from my initial plan. While Ciaran and Tabitha were always paired together, Agnes and her Musketeers were switched with the Vampires which changed the outcomes of their fights: This led to Raziel and Daphne being trapped in Gallia due to Daphne going insane with bloodlust while Agnes' group, quite plainly, got their ass kicked since there was nothing they could do to fight against the OP as fuck Counter Bidashal had. So yeah the three-way victory got switched to one victory (Ciaran and Tabitha), one half-victory (Daphne and Raziel) and one total loss (Agnes and Julio).

Looking over the chapter, Joseph's 'boss fight' was REALLY anti-climactic but I was in a catch-22 situation: If he kicked Ciaran's ass it would make him look more badass, but Ciaran would look like a total chump and vice-versa. In canon Tabitha actually one-shotted him since, without Haste and Sheffield, he's a normal human being. TR has always had more or less realistic limits with human beings meaning the second he got injured it only took a few more slashes and stabs before he slowed down to a crawl. Hell I was going to have him not fight back at all just to spite Tabitha and make sure she wasn't satisfied with her revenge but my friend convinced me otherwise.

It does make in-character sense for the characters to have no final talks with their antagonists, though: Tabitha doesn't give enough of a shit to do anything but put a spike through Joseph's head and Raziel at no point has ever shown an interest in getting a motive rant from Sheffield; that and he didn't catch her mention of 'sister' since he was really distracted. We'll deal with that later, but yeah no Assassins Creed style white room even if dialogue is one of the few things I'm relatively confident writing. It didn't make any in-universe logical sense.

Oh and Agnes' scene was emasculating all around, but hey that at least makes perfect sense. Humans with no Voidhaxx vs Elves always end in curbstomp.

Regardless the next arc will likely be the Gallian civil war arc, which while still difficult I think will be much easier to this one since there's no big fight scene requirements. The next chapter will be the epilogue, dealing with the three different pairs and the fallout of Joseph's assassination, which should be fun :)

Still, I'm considering writing a Spiderman: Noir fanfic and/or updating Shadow's Call so we'll see where it goes and how soon I can update :p

Cloudstrel - Well to be fair Louise has been trapped there for three weeks and was very stressed. It stands to reason she wouldn't be in the right state of mind for more verbose insults and naming.

Natsirt2610 - Not really interested in the gameplay at this point, more the lore. I'm more into either frenetic games like Doom 2016 or cyberpunk like Shadorwun or Deus Ex series.

TheHappySpartan - She's been placed in a relatively high floor else she would have just jumped and run. That and if she's caught by the guards outside she's dead meat, hence looking for alternative paths outside.

Sonicfanx1 - I guess it's because the amount of meta humor really dropped ever since the mid-30's chapter mark.

Skygrave - Not sure. The soul of Cinder being a Gestalt of all the previous Kiln sacrifices makes it difficult to add it in, especially with Raziel being a Manus shard.

Remvis - Eh, Raziel's physiology is a mess right now: Only thing we know for sure is that he's different from Alsanna and the rest of his 'sisters'...but Alsanna herself is almost ghost-like so that's a thing all on its own.

Anyway, as far as this story is concerned Manus is the Pygmy. And with regards to stopping the Undead curse, I'm not sure it's actually possible. We know, for example, that cycles exist as established by DS2 and DS3. What I gathered from this was that the Undead rising and laying waste was a part of the 'natural order' of things, meaning trying to feasibly stop it is like stopping the sun from rising - It's not gonna happen. DS2's Vendrick even had it as a side-goal and the best he could come up with was losing the Hollowing effect.

While in-lore this does make you functionally immortal, that's like creating the cure for cancer and ending up with medicine that keeps cancer cells stable and affects at most four people out of the thousands if not millions of victims that suffer it. Hence why ending the cycle is so important for characters like Henrietta or Julio - It means no more pre-destined Armageddon due to the Souls jockeying for power.

Zachary2 - Not really, more into Doom and Mankind Divided.

UneasyKnave1 - Lack of blood is my own change since I found it weird a corpse could bleed out. That and it helped emphasize his inhuman nature prior to him being changed.

ZiggySmallz - If you dropped the story then you're probably not going to read this, but the Sappy BS chapters lasted only till halfway through 52. I did say in the AN's that they would be temporary, and I wasn't expecting such positive responses out of it myself. Anyway, hope you kept reading :D

My Readers Digest - To be fair it's a POV from the villain side, and since I use third person limited and Menvil was the viewpoint character it ended up disgusting. Still, it's more a quirk of my own writing: I like switching POV's, however briefly, and you can definitely tell that from the way I write big chapters with the viewpoint constantly zipping around to espouse character thoughts.

If it offended you then apologies, it's part of how I write and if you felt disgusted by Menvil's segment then I'll take it as a half-compliment: It kinda was supposed to be grotesque, though Raziel's segments aren't exactly lacking in violence and depravity either.