The putrid stench of the...thing from the hallway was ever present to Cyrdic's keen nose, but it was faint enough to tell him that whatever it was, it was not in the vicinity. Unfortunately, the scent of a thousand decaying corpses was not the worst thing to assault his senses, and he shuddered in unbridaled horror and anger at the abomination that rose from the throne. A parody of an expectant mother. An undead imitation of life. He made a sign of the hammer on instinct, as any man of the empire would do when faced with such a thing.

"Back," Cyrdic told Camilla, his sword out before he could even register he made the move. His sword keened with a burning desire to cleave through whatever this abberition was. If she noticed the threat, she gave no sign. Her throat croaked, and her body groaned as she attempted to draw breath like she had in life, but it was more like cleaning a chimney than breathing through a throat, dust and flakes of what Cyrdic assumed was dead skin filtering out. 

"My husband, have you seen him?" She asked, her hand lovingly caressing the bulge of her stomach as she watched them. The Ostlander had the uncomfortable notion that it looked very much like a spider curling its web around helpless pray. "He must pay for his crimes. He has been quite the rapscallion. Driving a sword through my stomach is not how a Lord should act in such times." The blade looked heavy enough that Cyrdic was surprised it didn't simply slip through her paper thin skin.

Cyrdic stepped forward once, placing his free hand on the hilt of his longsword as well while she spoke, hoping to strike before she noticed he made a move. Camilla placed a hand on his forearm, shaking her head to stop him. He had been intent on slaying this thing quickly. Even such an abomination likely deserved a swift, merciful death. But the glint in Camilla's eyes bespoke of an idea, and he learned years ago to trust in her wiles. 

"Who is your husband, my lady?" She asked in perfect Brettonian, curtsying in a courtly fashion. Cyrdic stiffened, unsure if he was to bow. Camilla yanked his sleeves and he did so in a mechanical fashion simply to sate the obviously mad creature that spoke to them. She only gave them the barest of looks.

"Why, Lucien, brother to Louis the Righteous. I know not where he is. The Wars in Araby have been kept him occupied. Crusading is a dull affair, but he does it for the lady." She said, and Cyrdic realized she truly must be mad. That occurred over a thousand years ago. "It was when he returned from a campaign that he died, and did this to me. He killed poor Francois..."  

"He sounds like a man who demands respect," Camilla replied, though her face was contorted in confusion towards Cyrdic a moment after she had spoken with such surety.

The Great Hall suddenly jumped by a thud, followed by another thud. Cyrdic sniffed the air, smelling the stench of rotted cadavers growing closer. Had this been his and Camilla's first time fighting in such a situation, they would likely be dead. But now they both had the eyes that could penetrate darkness and bathe it in the mere light that penetrated into the gloom. And Cyrdic could see that the thing approached once more. 

"If you find my husband. Ask him why he slew me." she croaked from behind them. "Have I not been a faithful wife?"
[@Penny]