[center][b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVvgxmaNBiU]The Palais du Voltais[/url][/b][/center]

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The pound of the surf grew ever louder even within the confined quarters that composed the Voltisian sewer tunnels. Lucius' head remained in a position that commanded an utmost respect for the Al Mayrin Seer's visions that would ultimately prove the difference between life or death. Her appearance spoke of an incredibly beraggled and fatigued condition, however, the girl's determination was one that few throughout history could rival.

The more the Al-Mayrin spoke, the more it became evident with how lethal Conqvist's craftiness had presented itself through preparations of underground networks. Preparations for what seemed to involve the secret backbone for a sophisticated logistics that could house several armies and the madness that went into such preparations. Lucius had to credit the Lord Sovereign for his ingenuity in holding his most lethal cards from the Sarifens or the other major Carcassonian power houses.

Then came news of an unusual mention of notable areas of interest within the Palais itself. When was there ever a time, in which the Palais never carried secrets? Time was of the essence and given Ona's vast insightfulness, the Prince found himself facing dilemmas of dire importance. The Seer's presence ultimately proved the most dangerous and it was imperative that they reached the Palais.

“Our time is rather short and we both have places to be, Comte Le Crosse, however, I will at least acknowledge the realities concerning your wiley cunning and that despite men and their shortcomings. Perhaps someday your natural gifts shall rival that of the quick salamanders that roam the deserts bordering Ivalis' coastal colonies. Now ... as a motherly leader of beautiful Ivalis, I can only speak my own inflections upon your affairs as an outsider and I strongly believe you should be careful to know when to heed logic over your instincts. Your expedition is in theory audacious, yet altogether as reckless as it is doomed for failure. I can offer you and your companions a chance and one chance for an escape by sea and safe passage to Media where there is chance you may seek an audience with the Queen ...”

The Councillor paused as the Chuda Chevalier vehemently wriggled and squirmed in defiance and mumbled barely legible words that ranged from colorful curses to a spat of babble that took on a furious form of venomous verbosities. A rather nasty tug of the rope bindings quickly brought the Chevalier to her knees and the muffles quickly turned to sobs of pain. For a mere moment, a flash of   empathy escaped the Prince's eyes, however, his face quickly shrouded into the dark as he stepped into the shadows. 

Not long afterwards, the Councillor forcefully yanked the ailing Chevalier further along and towards the sewer opening where the smell and sounds of the sea's crashing waves came to bear. The Chuda's exposure under Lucius and Daedhel's watch likely sealed the girl's grisly fate and once aboard Ivalian vessels, her life would mark a slowly and painful existence that would involve every form of Ivalian torturing methods to bear. Nevertheless, the carnage that she, her fellow Crown Chevaliers, and their patron, the Lord Sovereign had wrought could not be undone nor the lives they had destroyed be resurrected. Justice, as inhumane as could be exacted, would serve to claim the girl's life into a shell of something that would barely resemble a human and the chain of events that happened and were to follow were but a taste of what would resemble the true nature of Ivalian fury.

“You have my word that the moment we board Ivalian vessels, we are immediately granted the Fleet's full of protection,” Councillor Gisgo announced, “Should we safely cross the Eastern Seas, we may yet dock within Midia where we you will discuss.”

“The offer is appreciated and in another time, I might have accepted your gifts; however, I must graciously decline your generous for I understand exactly what your words [i]truly[/i] mean. Valania never and never will exist as another Ivalian client colony. As a people, Valanians will fight until the last fight their very last breath to their identity as sovereign subjects to none. May Athirat be with you, Councillor Gisgo. I trust you will understand our plight even during the darkest of years.”

“Then this will be the last we ever speak and I hope you realize the lost golden chance you may never again acquire. I trust [i]you[/i] will one day understand the nature regarding Ivalian interests and the fruits of Ivalian matriarchy across the world. [i]Hi barukh chei yachid ho'olamim ...[/i] ([b]Blessed is she, oh life giver of the worlds ...[/b])”

“[i]Montjoie Saint Delacroix, Councillor,[/i]” the Prince curtly answered as the Ivalian waved her torch into several strange motions towards seemingly nothing, but the open seas. Her motions followed into decisive action as she dove into the pounding surface with the struggling Chevalier in tow. Minutes later, a faint, fast moving dark silhoutte emerged from somewhere in the pitch black and rapidly approached towards the Councillor's stroking location. 

“We scale the clifflines,” Lucius remarked as his eyes darted past towards his companions, “I'll scale first; Dae, you're second, however, you are to anchor Uriel at all costs and serve as the first one up and last off the Palais balconies. Uriel, I understand you've elements gifts and when possible, you must blow holes along the cliff-lines to allow each of our party modest shelves with which to climb. Ona, do what you believe is right, however, I strongly caution towards paralleling my location and to locate escape routes should we encounter formidable resistance."

"May Athirat and Yadin - Hamon be with us,” he murmured as he leaped towards a jagged cliff ledge before beckoning the others to follow in his stead. Moments later, pounding waves came crashed below  his location as only mother nature could have allowed ...

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Within a matter of minutes the motley group had miraculously scaled the cliffs without incident. The initially ascent proved rough and nerve rattling as the numerous torch bearing Crown Watch companies could be seen patrolling along the jagged paths that lead towards numerous locations that lead down towards the pounding surf. The cliffs resembled a natural barrier towards intruders, however, here and there, several narrow trails naturally formed an obvious security burden and ever a cautious man, the Lord Sovereign seemed to have spared no oversights in maintaining a sizable presence to oversee the defense against any sort of intruders that would wish to scale his cliffs. Overlooking a sharp series of cliff walls proved an entirely separate responsibility that escaped any sort of considerable forethought and much to Lucius' surprise, remained relatively unguarded save a mere handful of lightly garrisoned balconies and well furnished, marble-crafted terraces.

The pounding surf spared none during high tide had left many of the surviving members sopping wet as they escaped the notice few present Crown Watchmen's gaze. The timing, in which each individual's arrival could not have been more perfect, save the Prince himself whose sneeze very nearly alerted several guards' attention. Some skipped heart beats later, the group had fully assembled, drenched in sea water, but otherwise unharmed and still firmly commanding the element of surprise. Delays, inexperience, and politics had cost them dearly, however, desperate times had called for desperate measures and under the cover of darkness as well as the faint sounds of battle, a rare opportunity presented itself in allowing for an immediate decision upon where to proceed within the Palais itself.

After momentarily squeezing raw salt water from his ruined shirt and undergarments, Lucius stole a glance towards a dark and unoccupied, yet familiar hallway where a flood of memories and emotions momentarily brought the man back towards days long past. Nearly two decades had passed since he had fled the Palais' hallways and though the decorates and Sarifen alterations had drastically altered the historical Delacroix royal residence; much to Lucius' delight, the base interior had remained largely intact. He recalled his last days within the Palais had brought him some levels below and with knowledge of looming Sarifen forces approaching from land and sea, time had not allowed his earlier self to have enjoyed the residence's existing luxuries. His flight to Vectis came under immense duress and even through the harrowing blur of barely dodging Sarifen Sipahi brigades, the lung burning hardships that followed, and death defying memories still burned within his mind as if they'd happened the previous day.

“Mademoiselles and fellow Seigneurs,” he hissed after finally collecting his thoughts into coherent sensibilities. His eyes darted quickly towards several furnished corridors that diverted towards respective locations withing the Palais' grounds. “I believe we've a responsibilities to commit towards and input shall prove paramount towards which rare opportunities to pursue. We must decide and we must decide [i]now[/i]. Once we've reached a common consensus, we will commit and there shall be no turning back!”