The cacophony of chaos quelled with the arrival of Dame Irina and her men. What was once a tempest of gunfire and screams subsided and the crowds thinned as civilians were herded out. Those of importance were shepherded to Stern Hill while the rest were ushered to the Holy Mother Hospital. Duke Gile was currently in custody to be interrogated. Many were injured, others lost their lives. What was once a scene of festivities and entertainment was now hollow. Glass littered the floor and there wasn’t a single piece of furniture that was intact. The cold, winter air filled the room at this point, the floodlights casting long shadows over the disaster.

White-clad responders picked through the wreckage, assisting any injured civilians into ambulances and collecting and cataloging the unfortunate deceased. Compared to the tumult of the conflict, the low murmuring of the responders and the crackling of indistinct radio chatter sounded like eerie silence. 

Among the paramedics and the undertakers, Dame Irina surveyed the scene, sweeping her cool, calculating gaze over fallen friend and foe alike with apparent indifference. Her saber sheathed at her side, the only indication that she’d had anything to do with the battle was the blood still caked on her uniform; as she walked through the wreckage, boots clicking on the ruined marble floor, she more closely resembled an impartial arbiter than an active combatant. She took a close look at the face of each body she came across, occasionally tapping something on her watch. No body was taken away until she authorized it. 

Finally, she made it to the mouth of an adjoining hallway, where one particular body lay in a pool of blood and debris. Another Templar knelt beside it, examining it closely until Dame Irina approached, at which point he hastily stood. 

Irina paid him little heed; instead, she knelt next to the body, producing a handkerchief and using it to turn the corpse enough to see its face. She lingered on the sight for a moment longer than the rest, but her expression was unreadable. 

[color=lightskyblue]“Do you think he was outnumbered?”[/color] Irina asked suddenly, rising to her feet. Her Rodion accent was unusually strong. 

The soldier nodded, looking down at the body. “Most likely. The bullet wounds seem to come from several angles, and I would be surprised if a single opponent could have bested Ulysse.”

Irina followed his gaze, squinting suspiciously at the baseball-sized hole in Ulysse’s chest. [color=lightskyblue]“Much about this evening has been… surprising,”[/color] she replied gravely. 

“There’s more,” the soldier continued. “I searched his body. His armour crystal is gone.”

Irina’s head snapped up. [color=lightskyblue]“He deactivated it?”[/color]

The soldier shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it was…” he visibly cringed, ”removed.” 

Irina flared back down at the body, kneeling once more to examine the chest wound more closely. Whatever she saw, she did not seem to like. 

She stood, tapping her watch. [color=lightskyblue]“Request an autopsy,”[/color] she ordered, [color=lightskyblue]“and assign an escort. Do not let this body out of your sight.”[/color] Her watch beeped, and with one last glance at Ulysse, she swept off to the next body. 
[hr]At Stern Hill, every Scion and Templar is ushered through a barrier appearing as a stone wall. When they cross through, they are treated to a small, underground tunnel where a small bullet train waits for them. Once they are ushered in, the train takes off immediately with no sign of where it is going. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and several guards bearing the Veradis crest greet the crew and guide them out.

Once the group ascended from the tunnel, they were introduced to the interior of Veradis Castle. The castle’s great hall had a multitude of stained glass windows depicting several scenes of Incepta as a radiant, golden goddess bathed in celestial light. A multitude of fireflies glowed through the glass, lighting up the glass along with the moonlight. The walls held several tapestries and everything from the standing candelabra to the curtains were decorated with the suns of Veradis. 

The group were led to a wing and stepped through an elaborate barrier. Once through, they were greeted by two rows of servants bowing to them, with one woman standing at the end. She was a stern looking woman, her ebony hair in a perfect braid crown at the base of her head as her emerald eyes surveyed the Scions and their Templars.

She approached the group and bowed. [color=yellow]“Greetings, holy ones. I am [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e8/c8/5b/e8c85ba503e2d6b673d775dfa2dd2889.jpg]Duchess Patricia Bachmeier[/url]. I will be personally overseeing your stay here with us in the Rose Wing,”[/color] She spoke with an air of respect and authority. [color=yellow]“I have been instructed by Archbishop Elijah to have all Scions looked after as Dame Irina has summoned the Templars to Ballroom A. If there are any injuries, the medical team is located on the first door on my right-handside. If it would please you, the Scions have been invited to Her Highness’ Snuggery where she eagerly waits to host you. Of course, if you are weary and wish to retire, we are happy to lead you to your rooms per the Archbishop’s order. Whatever your wish, you need only ask and we will provide to the best of our ability.”[/color]