[center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UpCqGkidiE][b]Horse Thieves' Trail - Voltisian Alleyways – Merchant's Quarter[/b][/url][/center] [hr] The city streets had long since emptied after reports of widespread armed conflict errupted between the Emperor's fabled Nezamnissaries and the combined Paighan-Sipahi regiments lead by numerous aristocratic Azads. An order to restore peace and quickly martially the reserves from the Auxiliaries and the City Garrison, where men took to the walls to establish a symbolic display of law and order under the Lord Sovereign's autonomy whilst the entire Crown Watch largely remained stationed around the Royal Palace given how volatile one section of the noble's quarter had become. Various light flashes and thundering booms echoed across the cityscape as heavily assembled Household Azads engaged isolated Nezam ortas into fixed exchanges of crossbow, archer, and ranged skirmishes. The increased patrols established heavily reinforced checkpoints to ensure that the peace was not disturbed. Elsewhere, the dimly illuminated, starlit skies served as a stark back drop toward the various lights that doted the expansive open seas where numerous Sarifen warships inched closer to Voltas' wharf fronts. Whilst most of the near poverty stricken commoners had fled the streets, two men stalked the shadows as they moved through dirtied alleyways to fulfill motives of questionable purposes. Half a dozen heavily manned and hastily assembled checkpoints had been erected hours ago, blocking the path the two had trailed begun to trail and ultimately serving to hinder their progress and broaden the gap between themselves and their objectives. As if matters couldn't worsen, it seemed that the Emperor's Sipahis and various Household Zhayedans patrolled the streets, leaving no room for error or discovery. The alternative seemed to involve swallowing arrows or javelins from fast moving mounted Sarifens or scimitars to the neck and in so far as they had witnessed, the Sipahis were performing an admirable enough job in terrorizing the local populace in their efforts to further isolate and destroy the Nezam ortas moving across the city. Before either decision became a reality, the two moved quickly through a large opening that brought them within view of a grizzly sight. In the distance, flames shot into the skies while bright flashes and sounds of distant battle cries marked the beginning of what would likely be the end for the Voltisian Nezamnissary Stronghold. It was without surprise that when arrived near the first checkpoint barring their way through the recognizable horse hoof tracks, that they spotted bows, arbalests, and mounted archers ... [hr] [b][center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSgGVBaEEho]Château de D'Aubigne Second Floor - Noble's Quarter[/url][/center][/b] [hr] “Oi. Oi. [i]Oi, Balthasar![/i]” Three exhausted men lay in chains as they wearily kneeled upon the carpeted floors. The darkness that engulfed the sparse room's confines only served to remind them of just how precarious certain factors grew to threaten their survival and the sores from combat did nothing to ease their suffering. As sweat poured down their faces, the confined enclosure's heat had grown increasingly unbearable; where even strained hunches only aggravated their attempts to relieve the burning sensations resulting from grueling confinement. Their predicament could only be described through a series of ambitious, albeit botched endeavors that immediately thrust their entire resistance circle into a mortal Sarifen ambush. Through costly errors and incompetence alike, the ensuing aftermath had completely and utterly reduced their insurrectionist unit to nothing. The two remaining survivors were escorted to a safe location for confinement until they could be interrogated for valuable information concerning the resistance. “[i]Mon frère![/i]” the a dark haired, man hoarsely exclaimed, “You must keep your eyes open. They will kill us if we drift off like that!” The man twisted in an attempt to grant his companion room to breathe and move. Their arms remained bound behind their backs and shackled to the wall as did their legs and feet. The sweat pouring down their faces only worked against them as thirst was quickly becoming an enemy to their survival. How they had remained alive for this long without execution was beyond them, however, as the hours rolled by, the reality that they would die a slow and agonizing death had quickly grown evident. “It's no use. We will not leaving this place alive. Save your energy, confrère,” the man shackled furthest away murmured. His balded head stood drenched in sweat and the finely women fabrics and tailored breeches appeared to have been ruined. His swallows and shallow breaths only hastened following several coughs and sniffles. “We are finished and you only delay the inevitable. Have dignity in knowing that we were not alone before our deaths.” Snarling, the dark haired man burst forwards and lunged towards the balded man only to jolt backwards as the chains completely impeded his movement. Bellowing, the mercenarii floundered back towards his former position before fiercely throwing a foot upon the walls to express his disdain. “Unless you 'av a way out of this imprisonment. Why don't you drown yourself in piss? Fark off you, you high born dog!” Following momentary silence, balded man glared through the darkness before his head once again lowered. His labored breaths only further illustrated his frustration and irritation yet even through shallow breaths, his demeanor proved remarkably stoic. The dark haired man merely scowled and looked away as he rocked upon his knees to vent his anger. “I have earned more than my share of disappointing investments that may have yielded fruit and still managed to defeat hardships that would have threatened my fortunes.” Chortling, the balded man glared and shook his head before continuing, “You should take care in who you speak to, seigneur. The D'Aubigne branches stretch across Carcassonne and we have brought order and structure towards otherwise chaotic financial matters. Our accomplishments to the continent are much greater than you could ever realize, but whether you understand what I've mentioned remains to be seen.” “Oh? And you call dying here in this fark hole an accomplishment?” the mercenarii sneered, “Why don't you go back to your courts where you can rape young girls and leave survival to [i]real men[/i], oui?” “The only court you will find [i]here[/i], mind you, is one dominated entirely through the puppet Lord Sovereign's touch and his Sarifen masters. Judging by your appearance and ...” the balded man paused as boot shuffles and metallic rings from drawn weapons filtered through the hallway door, “On second thought, nevermind your attire. What brought you and your brother-in-arm here, seigneur?” “And what does it matter to you, hm? A snivelling, aristocrat like yourself need not concern himself to lowly men as ourselves, oui? Ohhh ... but wait! You do not know, do you? Once upon a time, King Lothair and the Delacroix family once entrusted our skills and services. The people once had need of men of like us when we still brought honor to Valania and its Kingdom! Whether [i]you[/i] understand what I've mentioned remains to be seen!” “Ahhh ...” the balded man answered, nodding in understanding, “You and your brother-in-arm are and were a men of the most trusted Delacroix swords,” the balded man murmured, nodding. “I can now see where you acquired your slip of the tongue and understandably it was not difficult for you to have angered the wrong men. Live or die, we will all eventually share the same fate. I do not see a reason to be rude. Now, may I ask again you what has brought you and your brother-in-arm here, seigneur?” No sooner had the man finished speaking before sounds resembling several draw string groans and metallic rings rang out from the doorway beyond. Several strings of shouts and curses followed as muffled, yet nearly deafening bangs erupted from the distance. This followed swiftly as the walls rattled from shock amidst a flurry in blasting commotions. The dark haired man swiftly straightened as screams and bellows came from below. “Did you hear that? I think I heard musket fire from b...” In mid-sentence, the doorway suddenly burst open, spilling light across the room as armed men wearing bowled helmets, flowing crimson capes bearing the Lord Sovereign's insignia, and Almain riveted half armor assembled across the doorway. The ranks parted enough to allow a particularly commanding man wearing officerial pauldrons to step forwards. His expression carried a certain cold-blooded stare as his eyes drilled upon the trio shackled along the walls. "For financing and bearing arms against the Lord Sovereign and the Sarifen State under Yadim-Hamon for whom, his righteous majesty, Emperor Anoush Aryanpour rule; we of the Crown Watch henceforth find you despicable traitors and heretics to all that is holy!" "On [i]what[/i] charges?!" the balded man inquired! "Bring the exact accusations for which we have committed heresy and treason against a fallen realm! Present your declaration that bears no legitimate claims towards enforcing common law!" "You are all, henceforth, sentenced to death. Given the nature of your most dastardly crimes, you are not afforded the right for last words." "[i]You 'eard the man[/i]," the dark haired man shouted, "[i]You have no right to bear these accus...[/i]" "[b][i]Arbalétriers[/i][/b]," he barked, drawing his sword, "Form ranks and make ready!" Without hesitation, the ranks reformed as crossbowmen assembled and kneeled, before the officer raised his sword. "[b][i]Préparer![/i][/b]" The sounds of battle grew ever louder as detonations and cracks bellowed from below, yet even through the commotions, the men maintained ranks as their crossbows leveled. The dark-haired man cursed and spat upon the officer just before his sword arm swung forward. Time seemed to slow as his gaze fell to the floor where the following moments would deliver his fate. Many loud bangs erupted from an unknown direction before several large lead spheres burst across the room and through the assembled ranks. In macabre fashion, the chained canon-balls whistled through the Crown Watchmen provoking screams and shouts as many were torch limb from limb. No sooner had chaos arrived when the floors collapse, sending the entire party crashing down towards the ground floors. As dust and debris spread out across the floor, the sounds of battle came alive as musket fire, screams from various parties, and cannonade fire filled the air ...