[center][b]Of Retainer, Throne, and Country[/b][/center]

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Lucius found himself glancing towards his exhausted Al Mayrin companion whilst the shades screeched from above. His injuries and fatigues were more than an average day's engagements in the field, however, he had seen worse. All other incidents had certainly exceeded all his harrowing life threatening encounters and beyond. Movement from behind provoked a weary sword draw only to discover his female companion and a somewhat distraught, albeit emotionless Councillor Gisgo stalk through their location and towards the cellar opening.

“[i][b]Balthazar[/b][/i],” Lucius screamed through pained gasps and coughs, “I beg of you! Please ... you must help me lift Onatha. I alone ... I ... I cannot carry her any further."

The shades had begun to quickly fade just as suffocating fumes had begun to descend back downwards and onto the assembled survivors. His face wrinkled as he half limped, half staggered towards Onatha and lifted her arm around his neck. His eyes burned as glanced towards the opening where he found himself staring towards the clouds that had began to engulf the ceiling. They had one chance and [i]one chance only[/i] to brave an escape.

"Of course, my liege!"

Balthazar hastened to the Prince's side and made to relieve him of his burden. Gripping his scimitar between his teeth, Balthazar bent down, hoisted Onatha onto his back and resumed his forward march. The smoke grew steadily closer as they carried on, the shades losing power every minute they dallied.

"Do not worry, Prince Lucius! I will carry Onatha! Go with the magi and find us our exit, hurry!"

He coughed softly as the smoke oozed over their heads. They had perhaps minutes to spare before the shades weakened and the fires consumed them all.

Lucius offered an acknowledging, albeit weary grunt and made his way past the several burnt out wooden husks that once resembled wine casks and collapsed shelves littered with shattered bottles and smoldering wood and soured grapes. His vision remained clouded at best, but in desperation and outright anger, the Prince stumbled in the direction Dae, Councillor Gisgo, Uriel, and the other survivors had seemingly poured through. A nagging feeling that screamed of discomfort and vulnerability burned through the back of his mind, however, his fatigued predicament forced his hand in pursuing escape and safety over lingering thoughts of predicated suspicions.