Lucius's glare remained transfixed in the several moments he witnessed whilst crossing the insurmountable water crossing. Down below, the water seemed so murky, a stark contrast from the pristine blue seen during the former Kingdom's waning years. It was before he could properly observe that reality once against struck the pair as their mounts crashed upon something uneven. Lucius's downward look took upon a calming expression and in a moment, the dark brown quickly transitioned into dirtied cobbled stone.

Nodding, the Prince galloped onwards amidst his mount's mad neigh and found his companion trailing close behind. He was taken aback as they nearly collided into a sharp turn displaying a gruesome scene and in a flash, felt bile rise through his throat upon glancing towards rows of suspended crosses lined with crucified victims. The Prince thought he briefly recognized one limp woman whom appeared so horribly mauled her face barely resembled anything other than an indistinguishable bloodied wreck. A silver chained necklace dangled above her nude, dripping body, and exposed her previous occupation as another Shield Maiden within the Order of Valus. Wet, bright-red paint snaked across her largely lacerated body to spell the word [i]Heretic[/i].

Through sheer force of will, the two shot through the crucifixion corridor and sped onwards before bursting across several street intersections. Somewhere across a familiar section, Lucius dodged one of several dozen carts carrying lumber, tombstones, tools, embalming equipment, and empty coffins. Nearby, the Prince watched as a young couple slowly pushed a wheel barrel carrying several motionless boys whom stared aimlessly towards the skies. The father's ashen face spoke volumes of his pain and suffering whilst the young, tear eyed mother limped as she carried bloodied sack bundle. 

Further ahead, he spotted maternity laborers hauling limp individuals into what resembled covered wagons stacked with jutting arms and legs, and as the wind shifted, the scent carried his way almost proved enough to vomit. In his pursuit to bypass the body wagons, he caught Ona staring in the direction of a particular position along the streets where cloth covered rows, featuring miniature feet lining the ground. Several particular sheets flapped away to revealed sights of the dirtied motionless children. Several other, dirtied and sickly looking children stared in their direction, baffled and frightened. It'd been some 6 months since he'd last visited and though he'd witnessed suffering on an unprecedented scale, the sights of burial filled the outer districts. It was much worse than he'd remembered and through witnessing the city's mounting decay, found himself seething in an almost uncontrollable rage.

“Don't look,” the Prince calmly whispered through controlled breaths, “As much we damn ourselves ... we cannot help my people.”

Onatha's felt the landing and exhaled. The sharp turn as well as the scene that awaited them caused her to let loose a scream of horror. There was no time to stop, no time to really take it in and for that Ona was glad. She wasn't sure her mind could take much more. So far she had been presented with a world that was apparently her own but not to have to also come to terms with the brutality of what she was seeing was enough to break a person. 

She would not be broken. She had gone through far too much, enough for two or more lifetimes it seemed.

"Why? Why all this suffering?" She came up and rode along side Lucius. "I do not understand." The girl's green, pupil-less eyes looked at the man and deep through her unusual appearance, there was sadness in their depths. Her body ached but she knew that until he gave her word they would not be stopping.

“Ona, this will only continue for as long as the Sarifens hold power. Conqvist remains their Puppet King and is the sole steward over Voltas and Valania proper. His word is law and it extends farther towards Sarife. This madness is as much his responsibility as those whom ruled before and the more we idle, the more we ourselves risk joining the reaper's entourage. We cannot linger any l...”

Lucius' head jerked back as vigorous shouts and deafening cracks once again delivered their pursuers' renewed presence. He hadn't the time to count their numbers, but predicted that the Urban Garrison, the nearby Sarifen Paighans, and the notorious Crown Watch had been alerted and were assembling to impede their advance. Lucius further predicted that in the time it took to reach the Merchant's Districts, the Urban Garrison would've completely locked the city gates with reinforcing Sipahis waiting outside to apprehend any potential suspects. The sights of dark skinned men, firearm wielding men wearing embroided vests, golden sashes, long trousers, and blue borks quickly assembled a considerable distance away and began to block several streets with considerable success. Their shouts quickly evolved into disciplined firing lines, tipping the Prince's decision to maneuver around and across another familiar side street leading towards the city dockyards.

Onatha didn't understand a lot of the intricacies of the politics of this place. She had not been here that long. She listened trying to keep track of names for a time when they were not on the run, not breathless and frantically searching for an escape. She followed his lead, confused as to what was going on. There were shouts amidst the sounds of men gathering and as Ona looked around, she wanted to ask what they were going to do, where they would go but she held her tongue and followed Lucius. 

“Your defense is imperative,” the young man hastily uttered, wrenching his saddle's sheathed scimitar whilst surveying the street beyond. The clean silver finish and black trailing the scabbard spoke of proper Sarifen craft and as the two entered a side alley, the Prince briskly twirled the weapon offered the elongated scimitar and curved scabbard towards his blonde haired companion, handle first.

“Have you handled a blade?”

Onatha eyed the blade. "I have wielded a knife but never anything so large." She looked over her shoulder a moment. 

Reaching for the weapon she felt its weight in her hand. It was well balanced but far larger than anything she had ever used before. Her eyes met his. "I am scared." 

Ona swallowed hard and adjusted herself in the saddle. She nodded to him to keep going. She may not have known all the details but danger was danger no matter the time period or the place. Now versus her own time the urge to save herself, to fight against those that would chain her was strong.

“What is fear, but the imposing dread of death and loss,” the Prince answered, “I have braved death many times and lived. In time you too will learn what it is to face the reaper's blade.”

Lucius' smile held briefly before a commotion stole his attention. He glanced outwards only to find dozens of the Kepi and plume helmeted Crown Watch soldiers massing along both direction within a three block radius. Within the advancing ranks, uniformed officers shouted curses and orders to maintain forward momentum as they swept the surrounding streets. The rank and file drummed with precision as the sounds of horn, fife, and drums blared with an ever encroaching warning imposition. It was decidedly here that the Prince found himself on the cusp of death. Everything he'd ever gained and learned would crash upon in a tormenting spiral that would ensure his death.

[i]Death[/i] Lucius thought. And then it hit him.

A curling smile soon parted his lips as a plan began to forment.

“Ona,” the Prince ordered as he quickly left his horse, “Would you dismount while I prepare the horses?”

Amidst his companion's puzzled expression, the Prince stripped away a cloth strand along his horse's silken sash before gently wrapping a makeshift scarf across his nose. A short paused and several moments later, the young man had not only retrieved two bodies, but successfully propped and fastened their pale forms along their empty saddles. The Prince had also hastily mounted his armor upon one particular corpse in the hopes that it would at least fool the approaching soldiers. Several mountings later, the two fastened corpses each carried spare cutlasses left over along Lucius' mount's previous owners and some seconds afterwards, Lucius' kicks forced both horses into a gallop across opposite directions.

“Now we shall board these carriages, hide, and feign death,” he shakily whispered before placing a hand along the girl's quivering shoulder. His eyes strayed towards the approaching soldiers before resting back towards the pale corpses stacked along a cart's nearby and through a grimacing swallow, muttered, “[i]I know ...[/i]”

Onatha knew his words were meant to bolster her but she couldn't help feel as if it was unfair. After all she had only just woken up and only now was freed what her life chained to a desk and her life before that. 

She nodded and slipped off of her horse in answer to his request. She watched, puzzled as he tied maneuvered two corpses into place in the saddles. Lucius kicked the horses into a gallop. His hand was on her shoulder.

"Feign death..." Onatha suppressed a gag as she thought of hiding in the piles of dead bodies. She turned to Lucius as if hoping he might come up with another way. 

"Alright," she whispered and moved towards a cart. The smell was worse than the sight. Onatha picked a corner of the cart, climbed up and curled into a ball. She wanted to avoid the bodies as much as possible but knew if she did not blend in she would be found. Her stomach turned as she used a leg to cover her own. She wanted to run, to get away from the cart, the bodies and the men but they would catch her in little time and no one would believe her story.

Lucius' face soured following a moment to supress his stomach's forming knot. Their only chance towards survival seemed to rest in the company of the fallen. Cursing, the Prince ripped away his scarf and remained hidden as his blonde companion courageously climbed onto the loaded wagon. Shortly afterwards, the Prince's face wrinkled as he followed suit and braved the climb to lay amongst his fellow peoples. Never had ventured through considerable lengths as he did to evaded the bastard Sarifens, however, the die had already been cast. As with its peoples, Valania was dying and through the sickly characteristics plastered across the other corpses within the occupied wagon unleashed a torrent of vengeance even as the Prince lay calmly. There seemed a strange peace even if death threatened to claim more souls within the coming hours. As anticipated, the soldiers did not arrive and from the corner of his eyes, Lucius watched as the Sarifen Paighans and the Crown Watch opened fire and chased after the two corpse laden horses. Their shouts became lost in the commotion ahead and for a time the two lay in absolute silence. The encounter seemed as fitting as they were ironic. He was after all, a Prince. [i]A dead Prince no less ...[/i]

[hr]

"Bernice! They'll kill if us both if you stop running. I beg of you, in Athirat's calling, keep moving your legs! We can't let them catch us out here!"

"I want to ... to lay down. I just can't breath ... and ... oww oww. When are we going to stop? I can't run anymore, Danièle. My legs are so tired ..."

Throughout a dirtied side street, two fleeing figures ran for dear life amidst the glow of twilight, sweat poured down their faces amidst shouts from behind. Their flight throughout Voltas' commoner districts marked a common sight amongst the many regime employed thugs. Early evening proved no different than the heat of day in that the commoner districts stretching towards the dockyards and merchant's quarters were continually rife with criminal activities and injustices. Thieves of varying skill ran amok whilst armed thugs and murderous gangers roamed the streets. The urban garrison fared no better and either turned a blind eye or remained indifferent towards regular, Valanian common folks and non-vendors alike. 

The ruling regime's payments towards local gangers and criminal thugs often came at odds with the urban garrison, whose duties within every other Carcassonian city involved civic policing and many glaring transgressions involving outright criminal lawlessness remained unpunished. To this respect, thugs and gangers such as Montauband Vauquelin were allowed to villainize almost victim with relative impunity. This night, Vauquelin and his men found two adolescent girls attempting to outrun their street crossings. Failure to match this evening's tolls was a severely punishable violation. This stretch of Voltasian streets were his and the regime's gold only further encouraged his right to stay the populace. Armed in assorted weaponry, his lackeys had not yet had their fill and demanded satisfaction. As their sole leader, he would gratify their lust through the fleeing girls and their waiting loins. His lips exhaled a delightful breath that wreaked of liquors upon witnessing the younger girl shriek and lose her balance before skinning her knees along the dark cobblestone streets. Horrified, the other girl screamed before plowing into a murderous looking lady gripping a dagger.

Drawing a sharpened stiletto, the leading thug howled in laughter as he seized the younger girl's skirt and ripped it open, revealing the girl's exposed genitals. As he waved the others over, their leader, Vauquelin rushed forwards and sported a loaded pistol as he shouted, "Oyyyyyyy, hows abouts making it a little easier on your own legs and gets back to whoring! Boys haven't had their rounds and you're already thinking abouts legging it out?! That's not how it works here in Voltas. You right good girls aren't thinking straight! We can do this all night if we have to, but you're not leaving our sights!"

"S'il vous plaît, la soeur," the young girl cried, seizing the woman's tight fitting shirt, "I don't want to die out here! [i]J'ai besouin d'aide![/i]"