[color=fff79a][center][h2]Edmund Silvaine[/h2][hr][/center][/color]

Edmund operated on auto-pilot on his way to Stern Hill. He didn't question when soldiers waved for him to walk into a wall, nor why there was a bullet train behind it. He didn't even bother to question where the train would possibly be taking them. All he knew was that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and the soreness and pain was beginning to catch up to him. Edmund slumped Maya down in a seat on the train, unslung the rifle, and collapsed into a chair next to his Scion. The armored knight remained stoic and silent as always, taking the moment of quiet calm to inspect the rifle he had looted. He didn't even bother to check how many Scions and Templars had made it onto the train when it began racing off. He just focused on what he could actively work with while remaining within leaping distance of his Scion. He checked the number of bullets he had, looked it over and over again to check for any kind of serial number or insignia. The gun in his hands just seemed to give rise to more questions than answers. He had clocked several dozens of these rifles at the party at the very least, and all signs were pointing towards a mass-custom order. But the lack of insignia... it was unlikely any company in the Estoran Federation could have fulfilled an order like this. Even if the job was piecemeal, cobbled together from various rifle parts... something would have a company logo on it. Whoever these people were, it was clear they had connections outside of the Federation. But something in his gut was telling him that Salome had been upfront... these people weren't associated with Kaudus, at least not primarily. This was just the beginning of something larger.

That very though sent shivers down Edmund's spine.

When the train stopped, he didn't take much time to acknowledge his surroundings. He instead opted to quickly scoop Maya up into his arms in a princess carry after slinging the rifle back over his shoulder. As much as every fiber of Edmund's mortal shell desired rest and ice, he trekked on slowly and methodically. His mind focused more on watching his step and keeping track of his breathing, which was becoming more labored with occasional hissing as it was clear just how poorly his initial landing from the ceiling fall had gone. He pushed through with no vocal protest nonetheless, stopping only as he stood before a collection of servants.

[color=yellow]“Greetings, holy ones. I am Duchess Patricia Bachmeier. I will be personally overseeing your stay here with us in the Rose Wing. 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]

After taking a moment to decipher which direction was the Duchess' right-hand side, he carried Maya towards the room where the medical team was waiting. The debriefing session could wait a moment.

Her Holiness had a boo boo.

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