Eliabelle was pleased to hear that at least a few of the other knights had read Fireheart. She had no delusions of it being a grand work of literary significance, but not everything needed to be of that nature, did it? Sometimes, it was nice to just read a good story. In her mind, this is exactly what Fireheart was, and why it deserved the popularity it had gained. She did give a brief nod to Christina, as the windows were quite breakable, but she did not move. She wasn't particularly close to them, after all.

... And the hundi boy was hugging her stuffed dragon, that was quite endearing...

... and then Sult spoke up.

The Princess frowned. She'd known Sult from when she was quite a bit younger, and... at the moment, memories of the cake incident were not exactly what she needed. Besides, recalling the horrific and tragic events surrounding Mern the Kinslaughterer, well... even passing by that painting sometimes gave her an uneasy feeling. She knew her parents liked it, and that the death of the madman was a popular subject... but the way that someone sharing her blood had become so deranged as to desire his younger sister, still a child, and Saint Elionne...

Before she could comment on all this, however, Sult did something... well...

Eliabelle could only give a blank, wide-eyed stare as the older girl's hands latched onto Bethany's chest.

Bethany herself froze for a few moments, feeling the taller girl's grip. Her cheeks immediately went scarlet, and her body vibrated slightly.

"Wh... wha... I... I... I... I..."

It appeared, quite simply, that her brain had stopped properly functioning. So many people were looking at her, while she was having... something like this happen... Even after Sult's grip was released, the court mage continued to tremble, practically glowing red.

And then an old man barged in with food.

And then Sult rushed out.

And the old man commented on her rear end.

For a few moments, Eliabelle was speechless, though she did proceed over to Bethany and place a hand on her shoulder in a bid to calm the girl down.

"... S... stories? I... er... very... very well..." she trailed off for a few moments. She was already off after the attempt on her life, but now... Well that entire sequence of events had been incredibly awkward, to say the least.

[hr]

Fanilly saw the arrow meet its mark, piercing the guard's throat and sending him limply to the ground. It was gruesome, but Marianne had done her job. He didn't had a chance to raise the alarm. While the short girl didn't believe stealth would be plausible or applicable to this occasion, there was certainly the possibility of leading a surprise attack. They'd be less prepared and more easily dealt with in this way.

She gave a small nod to Tyaethe. That was good. The idea of unearthing the bodies of so many dead simply to serve as slaves... it was a terrible thought. Necromancy was something that had always made Fanilly's skin crawl. Manipulating the dead simply for one's own gain... oh, she did know of the more benevolent uses of the often-dark art. Preserving severed limbs to be reattached, keeping 'dead' organs functioning... she had once heard of a knight whose heart had died, but with the quick thinking of their magic-wielding companion managed to live for many, many, many more years due to necromantic arts used upon their heart. Fanilly did not know how that tale ended, however. But it was far more frequent that necromancy was used for darker, more fiendish purposes.

"If... if I'm not mistaken," Fanilly began, when Tiral brought up the possibility of the corpse being reanimated," if the necromancer is at the lowest level of the mausoleum, he won't be able to animate a corpse this high up."

Fanilly hesitated. Of course... she could have been mistaken. Moving the body likely was the best choice in any case...

Martina, however, was rather eager to charge in and slay the conspirators. The Nem girl, Tili, shot her a glare, but quickly relented when she mentioned ensuring the safety of her sister. Her glare returned to the girl with the ribbons in her armor, however.

"But there's no more time to lose. We need to get in, and now," she said, finally.

With that, Fanilly swiftly advanced. Soon they had reached the doors of the Cal Mausoleum, already slightly ajar. Blades already drawn, Fanilly carefully pushed it open wider and proceeded inward. The crypt was dusty, but well-lit. It was clear that there were people inhabiting it as of now.

And then some stranger showed up, in Reonite colors, to talk over the corpse.

"Ah? What's-"

Fanilly was cut off by a shout from deeper in the crypt.

"Knights?! What are they doing here?!" cried a guard from below, down the stairs. Swiftly, Fanilly turned, and saw a pair of guards who had come up the stairs that lead deeper into the crypt. They were men, wearing basic steel armor.

"Damn it, they must have found out! Summon the others! I'll-"

It was only a few steps. It was likely the guards already knew, but...

Fanilly had cleared the distance swiftly. The first man barely had time to raise his sword before her blade cut through his shoulder and down. His armor was of poor quality, likely bought cheap to avoid too much attention, and gave way.

He fell to the ground with a gasp and lay still.

There was no more time for stealth.

"Iron Roses! Charge!" Fanilly cried. Now that the guards knew they were there, it was simply time to kill them all as quickly as possible. Only those who surrendered would be spared, and for their part in a plot to assassinate the Princess it was certain their sentence would be death. But even still, slaying a surrendering man was abhorrent, and nothing an Iron Rose should ever do.