[Imperial Palace] Days of Disquiet, Days of Rage (Private)

[Alexis Sapientia]

Timestamp: Late Afternoon to Early Darkening of 50 Kalendryas, in the First Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne. (GF posting blanket given to all by Goss.)

Treestamp: Dies Irae of the Requiem Mass in D minor (K. 626) by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.*

This day, this day of wrath
shall consume the world in ashes,
as foretold by David and the Sybil.

Complete silence covered the hoofbeats as the carriage proceeded swiftly to the Imperial Palace, clouds seemingly gathering as darkening descended, giving a crude transfiguration for the events of the day.

For the Imperial Minister of War, there was nothing but rage, pure rage, if the shaking of his fists and the silent, brooding, pensive look on his mute face as he gazed out the carriage window was anything to go by.

His mind was working fast, and yet perenially distracted by the sight of his wife. He couldn't get that out of his mind, and as powerful as the image was in his mind, it also did put perspective to his quiet musings.

So many things to do...Gods!...What on telath could he do? Should he have been more circumspect? It was his fault.

His fault. His.

He should never have left her as she was, never let her alone, never let down his guard, but now that he did so, there she was, bloodied on the Prime countryside.

Gripping his fingers together, he set out a silent prayer to the Gods, closing his eyes.

When that was done, all he could do was continue to hold her hand, feeling for a pulse, every breath a lifetime, as the seconds ticked by, precious minutes wasted as they proceeded westward, back to Aelyria Prime, back to the Imperial Capitolium, center of the Principality, as well as the Empire.

What trembling there shall be
when the judge shall come
to weigh everything strictly.

Covering his face in his hands, so did he finally, furtively, let the tears fall, just as the heavens let go with a cloudburst, exemplified by the crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, so did the father of three, and husband to Liselle, let his feelings be.

Please don't let her die please please please don't let her die I'm not ready I have children I don't know what to do please don't let her leave me

There was also the safety of his children to look to. In his anguish, he couldn't even begin to think where to start, trying to calm himself in the privacy of the carriage as best he could, knowing full well that he couldn't lose it...not yet...not while he was still in the public eye.

In a few minutes, so did they find themselves approaching the center of power, if not the center of Telathian gravity, the guards automatically saluting as the series of carriages began to arrive.

The trumpet, scattering its awful sound
across the graves of all lands,
summons all before the throne.

The Imperial Palace. This building, by its very nature is the centre of the Imperial Forum.

Entry is not something that can be achieved by simply walking in. The walls which surround the palace are only the very simplest of the defences. Guards, the very finest of the Imperial Guards patrol here, and very regularly. There is never a moment when there are no guards in sight. So it is, and so it has always been.

The walls are high, but the garden is long and the Palace itself can be seen from a distance.. The white washed walls cut off the prying eyes of the outside world, but the truth is that were those walls not there, all anyone could see was the formal and immaculately kept Imperial Palace Gardens. A bevy of gardeners work here, tirelessly keeping the Palace Gardens pristine for the Regent and his family. So it is, and so it has always been.

In order to gain entry here, there are certain requirements which must be met. No weapons are brough in to the Imperial Palace, and no one, no matter their rank or title is afforded leniency on this. Only those who work to serve the Regent bear arms here, no other. So it is, and so it has always been.

When one is granted entry through the gateway of the Imperial Sentinal, where all undergo the first check, one is granted the sight of the gardens from within. They are beautiful in the extreme, lush and well-kept. The fragrance of flowers and herbs permeates the air and as one is escorted by a group of guards towards the front doors (in a carriage, of course, provided by the Palace itself, even if one drove here in ones own carriage), then the visitor can see flora and fauna from throughout the Aelyrian Empire growing here in the gardens. Fuelled by magic and encouraged by the tender ministrations of a fanatical staff, the most exotic plants grow. So it is, and so it has always been.

And then, before you is the palace itself. It is unsurprising that it is such an elgant structure, sweeping upwards and outwards with the grace of the foam of the sea. The beautiful marble and cool fountains are not the things which are shocking to the new visitor. Perhaps the thing that does catch the eye, and even the breath of the latest visitor is the personal aspect that the Palace has. The curtains which hang draped at the windows are not matched on the outside, for instance, but rather chosen for the beauty of each individual room.

When the judge takes his seat
all that is hidden shall appear,
nothing shall remain unavenged.

As they pulled up to the Palace courtyard, Alexis, not heeding the warnings of the attendants, and putting caution to the winds, opened the door, jumping out, heedless for his own safety, and taking a quick look around to ascertain the security of the location as well as to see who else was around.

One couldn't help but think that this was a statement by some deranged individual or group of individuals, but doing so at a very public event, and in the presence of a good portion of the Imperial Government, this could very well have been the opening salvo of something else entirely.

For the life of him, despite his personal tragedy, he would still have to do his job, that which was exemplified by the wet, bloodied, and untidy uniform that he still wore. In the pouring rain, one couldn't help but see cerulean eyes burn through the arriving night.

"Sergeant of the Guard!"

*Best results when read in conjunction with said music.

[Milo L'Evienne]

A handful of concise details added to the message carried by trusted, mounted courier back to the palace in advance of an arrival meant that by the time the line of carriages arrived in the wide circular drive near the front steps of the palace, preparations would already be well underway inside corridors and galleries both upstairs and down. Servants scurried here and there, roused out of an otherwise uneventful evening in the palace, now preparing for a number of unexpected guests, those anticipated to be in a substantially less than festive mood.

Those servants passed like lines of ants headed in both directions up and down service stairs carrying large, silver covered trays that would be laid out on a long table already arranged along a wall in the Imperial throne room in a serve yourself arrangement aided by solemn faced and liveried servers ready to meet each attendant’s every need. Trays arranged with a variety of foods most easily managed with the fingers, morsels from the savory to the sweet, fruits, raw vegetables and chunks of crusty bread, all to be carried away on plates to help ward off the unwanted distraction of hunger created by meals missed for the events having recently unfolded in the nearby countryside. Those carrying trays were joined by others delivering pots of tea, pitchers of water or decanters of stronger spirits for those who preferred stouter stuff. While sustenance of this sort might understandably be the last thing on most of the minds gathered at the moment, it looked to be a long night.

In contrast, the atmosphere inside the Regent’s carriage as it made it’s way back to the capitol city beneath a brewing storm, was one that might have benefited from the distractions arranged by way of busy preparations, at least those that manifested themselves in the physical sense. There was its own storm brewing, formed not by sudden changes in the atmosphere or gathering clouds like a distracting flash of temper, but born of a dark and brooding, focused drive. While blame might be cast in a myriad of directions not limited to the perpetrators, ultimately it was a burden Milo shouldered while waiting out the return to the palace. With each appointment made on behalf of the Empire, he put them in harm’s way. They might go willingly, even eagerly into that fray but in the end, it was him that had ushered them through. It was personal, and isolated or indicative of something farther sweeping in the works, he’d turn the Empire upside down and inside out to find those responsible.

With that in mind, the carriage had hardly come to a stop before he swung open the door himself and stepped out into the pouring rain, followed by Barrett Tierney, personal guard and friend who’d spent the journey in similar brooding silence, his own war of blame raging within for having somehow failed at his duty in a roundabout way. He hardly had time to say anything of it, given Milo was handing out instructions before his boot met the cobblestone drive. ”Mr. Tierney, please round up four couriers and send two to my private offices right away. One should be dressed in plain clothing. The others, have them report to lord Sapientia with orders to take their instructions from him.” With a nod indicating his immediate compliance, the tall Eunesian was off to carry out his task by way of his usual expediency. Leaving the rest to arrive and be met by guards and escorts, he met a footman halfway up the stairs and handed out another round of instructions. ”Make sure that comfortable accommodations have been prepared and are ready upon the request of the Minister of War or Sir Raliric Ered’Gard should they be needed. In addition, please arrange a detail of footmen to escort our arrivals directly to the throne room.”

Seeing that all was in place and assured that those still arriving would be escorted to the second floor of the palace and Liselle’s comfort additionally arranged as Alexis would have it, Milo made way to his private offices inside the palace, a string of Rosemen trailing behind him. The time elapsed before the arrival of the asked for messengers was hardly more than needed to scrawl out two missives, one bound in black velvet ribbon and marked with the Imperial seal, the other plain and devoid of any telling insignia. Before all was said and done, missives sent away with a few added instructions, frockcoat and cravat discarded and a few necessary details seen to, Milo left his offices again, off for the throne room where no doubt others had arrived before him.

Deep on the second floor of the Imperial Palace was the room where, strictly speaking, the heart of the Empire sat in a nutshell. The Imperial throne upon its dais dominated the wall furthest from the door, behind which was installed a grand, two story stained glass window that stretched from floor to ceiling, depicting the Imperial emblem in brilliant, faceted color. That wall, along with all three others, was of finely polished light cream and pink marble, sheets of which stretched from the fine paneled wooden flooring to the ceiling of vaulted black marble and glass.

A full twenty five meters long and ten meters wide the room’s only entrances were the large double doors that were the main entryway and a small door to the left main door which granted access for servants bringing food and messengers who could not afford to travel through the main part of the palace. There were of course likely other doors, but these would be concealed behind heavy drapes, invisible to the eye of the normal visitor which opened onto corridors granting access to the offices of various Ministries and the like; and the Regent’s private apartments, from here would officials enter and leave quietly, whilst visitors only ever came in from the front, unable to see the comings and goings of the Imperial great behind the curtains.

With fully five meters between the columns in the room there were four of the grand marble edifices per side, each of black, white veined marble like the ceiling and edged with gold, graced with a faceless, helmeted guard of the Order of the Black Rose. Near the entrance the first two sets of columns were without curtains, simply opening up to murals, but the two columns nearest the throne bore rich red drapes between each other and, half way, a curtain between the column and the wall. The effect meant that the open portion of the throne room took the form of a huge inverted T, with the throne at the furthest end and the entrance at the intersection between the two wings.

The walls, for their part, bore murals, tapestries and mosaics of the finest material depicting Diana and the grand past of Aelyria, leading the eye ever upwards to the second level, where huge windows dominated the walls and ceiling, high and vaulted with marble supports, leading ever upwards to what was arguably a rival for the great stained glass window behind the throne: a grand dome of carved marble which bore the likenesses of the Aelyrian Gods, illuminated by a chandelier which hung from its center, down into the center of the room itself.

The huge illuminating ornament was itself a feat of engineering and beauty, wrought iron and twisting shapes, bearing candles beyond count which flickered constantly to provide light. But it was no match for the throne, that which would remain empty until a sovereign was crowned but detailed beyond description with countless carefully carved motifs; it sat in gold and wrought bronze glory four steps above the room on a semi circular platform along with two other thrones for the close family but a step below. Whilst on the step below them a literal bevy of chairs were located, each finally crafted oaken shapes with comfortable cushioning for the added ease of those compelled to attend court on any given brightening or darkening. Below the raised marble the wood floor of the throne room was paneled with the likenesses of the nine provincial crests and covered in a finely woven red carpet, leading up to the imperial throne and down, all the way to the carved pair of wooden doors at the far end.

[Palacrisis D Jones]

All thoughts of a reception were dashed food and drink would lie without being tasted toasts and speeches were forgotten in the aftermath of the tragedy in the fingers of Carmelyn. Pala was frantic to get Wren away from the scene and the only logical place was the safety of her family home.

The haunting memory of the look in the assassin’s eyes as he had pointed the cross bow at Katherine before turning and firing at Liselle would haunt his dreams for ages and the shame that that he froze at the moment was unbearable.

Once the priest Father Walt had got off him he had taken Wren to her parents Nicholas and Seren L’Rodan and asked that they take her home. His cold blue eyes had spotted Milo surrounded by his loyal guards and could not help but wonder if the assassination had been directed at him and not poor Liselle .Was this an attempted palace coup , who could tell the scene was just too confused? Raliric Dzrg and Roland were busy with healing and inspection of the body of the killer Alexis with his wounded wife, Archbishop Walt Jacobson stood to one side surveying the shattering of happiness at a place of holiness and peace.

Milo and Alexis had taken charge and guests were ferried away as quickly as possible all heading for the palace and the safety of the security measures that edifice allowed. Pala crisis after making sure that Katherine was well hitched a ride with some people he did not know and spent the journey in somber thought.

Whatever and who ever was behind this attempt was an unknown at the moment. Was it an attempt on Milo which had gone terribly wrong or was it in fact an attempt on the Governor of Prime? If the latter there had been rumours of a aristocratic back lash to a commoner standing one step away from the throne he had heard those stories when he had been the Imperial Consul to the Northern Reaches, so could this be a palace coup coming from within the corridors of the palace itself. However if this was in fact directed at Liselle herself then it could be a simple as a disaffected disgruntled citizen or as complicated as an attempt to bring anarchy to the streets of the capitol.

His head hurt, his clothes were soaked from the pouring rain and a niggling thoughts said Be with Wren and as counterbalance do your duty this brightening of all brightening’s was a test of love and duty it was for Alexis and in a smaller manner it was for Palacrisis D Jones governor of Arakmat and duty had won out!


He hardly noticed the grandeur of the throne room or the guard that checked his identity before allowing him into the holy of holies. Palacrisis slouched in a arm chair before the throne and nursed the large brandy in his hand and glowered.

“Life was so fethin unfair”

[Duncan Sythe]

One sound among many would go unnoticed. The appearance of a rain cloak clad figure among the carriages would however, probably not. That figure, disguised beneath the hood, hefted a pair of saddlebags over his shoulder and grimly set off up the staircase towards the main doors of the palace, ripping the hood from his cloak as soon as he got within the protection of an overhang to reveal the black haired, blue eyed features of the man he was; the former Imperial Mage Duncan Sythe.

“I am expected by order of the Regent.” He declared loudly over the rain to avoid a mistake from what he suspected would be a very jumpy security contingent, slipping the saddlebags from his shoulder with a thump. “The name is Duncan Sythe.”

Slowly he opened the left side of his rain cloak to reveal the gray one beneath and further beneath that a brown coat, both of which he'd gathered and opened so that he could extract his visa with a half-gloved hand and extend it to the footman, revealing a sword belted to his left hip in the process.

“My identification, if you need to check with the Regent then tell him the man he asked for from Medonia has arrived, he will confirm it is I and confirm that he wishes me to be armed. I would appreciate if someone would escort me to the Throne Room immediately once you are satisfied so I am not questioned further.”

There was no frustration about the man, more a kind of concealed, coiled power that was calmly, smoothly held in check. He clearly expected that whatever checks would be carried out would be done so swiftly and so there was no need to be impatient with the guard, but at the same time there was an air of determination that bespoke of no resistance. It was an attitude Duncan very rarely adopted but his sense of authority on this darkening was clear to the doorman, brutally clear. Equally there was no hiding his identity here with the wards around the Palace as they were. Definitely not this Darkening.

Once the checks were completed Duncan hefted the saddlebags with him again, raincloak dripping water everywhere and followed his assigned escort to the Throne room.

His arrival was accompanied simply by the drip-drip of water as he stalked up the central isle, a menace in a soaking wet brown rain cloak that looked more a muddy gray. Throwing the saddlebags to the floor at the base of the dais he swirled the rain cloak from his shoulders and tossed it atop them, glancing around with a shake of hair for Milo or someone else familiar.

[Parreyon Syndicus]

OOC: Based on PMs I think my summons was from Raliric. I'll edit if i'm wrong as no runner has posted at my house where i'd be at.

Parreyon had seen the horrid weather and found that relaxing to a book, a warmed cup of brandied tead, and a roaring fire made for a good evening from all the wet and stromy skies outside. Many of the people he knew would be going to the grand wedding of Palacrisis to which he'd not been invited. No offense taken given that he and Pala had never really been friends and had only met on a few occassions. He only gave a small prayer to Kaimelea to bless their union.

Parr had lit the fire in the fireplace which was heating his study. He had a chair that he moved slightly to be facing the fire. Praaal was laying next to him on the floor. Parreyon had chosen an old novel that took place during the Xet War; he was a sucker for an honorable soldier story whenever he could get his hands on one. Not even into the first chapter, he was disrupted by a knock at the door. Parreyon placed the book down on the arm of the chair and went to answer. Praaal showed no fear to the knock and continued to lay at his spot on the floor.

Parreyon accepted the note as the knight said he was of The Argent Sword. Given the time of brightening and the weather Parreyon did not have a good feeling about this note even before he read it. After he read it, he shook his head in disbelief. The women of importance that had ever entered his life ... Elanara, Audrey, Arabella ... had all disappeared in one way or another within eras after meeting them. He almost felt it was a curse to befriend such women. Liselle had been shot and he was being summoned immediately to the throne room.

Nodding to the knight, he then ran into the house and hurredly donned his arakmatan hardened leather strapping the sunblade sheathed in the weapon belt around his waist. Praaal and Parr spoke during this using the dream state of communication and when Parr was done gathering his equipment, Praaal stood ready by the front door. Once together an outside, Parreyon hopped on the back of Praaal and grabbed a strong handful of hair riding bare back to the palace. Praaal laid outside near the first gaurd as Parreyon made his way through the corridors adhering to all the checks and balances of security that were in place. He entered the room and surveyed the scene. By Kaimelea, keep this woman alive and help him break this curse ...

[Gossamer]

Father Walt, Archbishop of Prime, arrived later that evening as well. He stayed on with the Wedding at the Fingers of Carmelya to oversee the dispersal of the guests, to see Palacrisis and Katherine off, and to make sure the area was cleared and cleaned as was his sacred duty as overseer.

As he took the carriage ride through the city, his thoughts were clouded. He disliked when people took advantage of what should be joyous gatherings to make their statements. But it was evident why they did. They, whomever they were, were getting precisely the reaction they wanted. The entire Imperial Forum was in full rage and at this very moment gathering to perhaps knee-jerk a reaction that might not be necessary. His duty, above all else, was too attend and make sure emotions didn't cloud judgment. Things must proceed VERY cautiously. If this is what the individual and his organization wanted, then this is precisely what they didn't need.

In his vast experience in Aelyria Prime, emotion was used to insite action which in turn was used to divert from the real issues. They needed to find out what the real issues were, and make sure this attempt was not just a smoke screen to unsettle the Imperial Minister of War, The Regent, and the entire Forum. It might be, that it wasn't about Liselle at all.

But he wasn't certain.... and so he bowed his head and prayed as the carriage rolled up, parked, and he alighted gracefully, even for someone his age. Slowly, he made his way into the throne room escorted by two palace guards, and joined the gathered throng there... carefully observing them to get some feel of how the night was going to proceed.

Where he could, he offered comfort. And that started with Palacrisis. The priest approached, laid a hand on the man's shoulder, and squeezed gently. "Hows the bride holding up? I'm sorry this happened now... at your wedding. You of all people shouldn't be here tonight. I hope you didn't leave her alone." Father Walt would have saw to Alexis first, but he did not note the Minister's location. Plus, there had been a hardness to Alexis' eyes when Walt had looked into them before they bundled Liselle off. It indeed wouldn't go well for whomever was responsible, if the Minister of War, the Regent, or any of them got their hands on the group.

[Palacrisis D Jones]

The brandy steadied his nerves and settled a queasy stomach and replaced anger with a cold iron hard logic Action could be left to those that lived by sword and buckler or staff and arcana. His job was to think and the political implications of this failed attempt on the life of Governor Liselle Vampyler-Sapientia.

Others began to filter into the throne room intent on their own thoughts, Duncan Scythe someone he had once met briefly. The most proficient mage in the empire many said but a man of close chested nature dedicated to balance in all things. Parreyon was another of passing acquaintance a man of fierce loyalties and unbending service but barely more than a stranger. he nodded to each and uttered my lord but nothing more the time for debate would come and this was no time or place for idle empty headed chatter.

He slumped back into his chair and then as Father Walt spoke he straightened up, a flash of anger at his words after all the good priest had offered him and Wren assurances of a sort about security but the flash behind the eyes faded and he looked up into the kindly mans face.

Father, Wren is upset of course but she is safe within her family’s estate guarded by four knights who will give their lives for her and her family. I would be with her but alas I have wrestled long between duty and personal feelings as men of our station must often do, duty has won out and if I may make some small contribution to the darkenings discussions then it is at the whim of the man I serve. My lord regent may dismiss me from my duty but until then I shall stay.

[Raliric Ered`Gard]

Raliric, after his rage had been momentarily quelled by the punch he had landed upon the face of the man who had risked Liselle’s life even more so than the bolt, had returned to pick up Aurelia, his daughter. Taking her in his arms he held her close and for a long time; she in turn had been scared and sought comfort in the arms of her adopted father. He was still bloody, though his hands were a bit cleaner than before, and Aurelia upon seeing it had asked whether it was his. He had replied that it wasn’t and that everything was going to be alright now. As soon as the girl was in his arms his anger, his rage, fled; leaving him empty, sad and exhausted tired from the rushed casting and the adrenaline that had moments before pounded through his veins.

He carried Aurelia into the carriage that Liselle had been moved into and there they sat in relative silence. Most parents would not have brought their young daughter into such a carriage with a person half covered in blood and who had formerly been wounded so drastically, however Raliric was a man of stark reality. And Aurelia had seen things whilst in the Gut that no normal person should have seen in their lives; it had made her harder, and it had made her softer. Harder in that she could stand to see blood, see death, live on her own, fend for herself; softer in that at the end of the brightening when she was in the company of her family and friends she cherished the life and love that was all around her. That was one thing that war seemed to do to people, or perhaps it just seemed to do it to the Ered’Gards; it gave them such pleasure when they saw new life, new love, and peace. They were at home in peace, but they knew the reason behind war, behind blood and behind death.

When finally they arrived at the Imperial Palace Raliric turned to Aurelia and spoke softly to her. ”Sweetie. I would like you to go with the Lady Liselle. She is a good woman, you’ll like her, and I’m sure she’ll be happy to have some company in her room. See to her needs, whatever they may be. I have to meet with the Regent and the rest of the people at the wedding to discuss what happened and see what can be done about it. Will you be strong for me?” He asked, seriously.

Aurelia, a girl of nearly eight ordinances, nodded her agreement before speaking; ”I will, Father. Don’t you worry,” she said, resting a hand upon Raliric’s shoulder in that cute, serious way that she did, ”she will be alright. You healed her after all, and now it is left to her to finish her recovery. I’ll be there to help her; you just make sure the people who did it pay for what they did.” The Knight nodded, not seeing that last part as odd from the mouth of a child; to him she was older than she appeared. He hugged her once again before they moved out of the carriage. He told the people who were to take Liselle away that Aurelia, his daughter, would be going with her and would see to what needs she had if there were any.

Then, after giving his daughter a kiss on the cheek and watching her move into the Palace following the prone body of Liselle, he followed the rest of their entourage into the Throne Room where they were to meet. He found himself a tumble of bourbon first and foremost, there had to one around somewhere as the Regent loved the stuff. When finally it was in his grasp he took a semi-large gulp of the liquid to steady himself before finishing that tumbler off and taking another. Then he went in search of Palacrisis.

It did not take a great amount of time or effort to find the newlywed and when he did find him he would place a hand upon the man’s shoulder. ”I am sorry, Palacrisis, that such a thing has happened at an otherwise joyous occasion. It would seem that this empire is forever to have interruptions at its joyous occasions.” There was impotent anger and rage still heard in his voice, a rising storm that had begun to grow again once he had left Aurelia; its origin was the Cryaxian Taint that so amplified such emotions. ”For what little it may mean with recent events, I wish you all of the happiness in the world, and you deserve it, my old friend; you and your whole family.”

[Ogabe K'tinga]

The doors were opened in advance of the latest addition to the assemblage, given the speed with which he was travelling, footpads skidding to a halt on marble tiles once the lithe Judicator had completed his entrance. The pelt covering his visage was matted with the rainfall, his clothes likewise leaden with water.

Ogabe hated water.

The reek of emotion was such that even he could sense it, wafts of sweat and angry fear trickling through the air of the the Throne room. Not good he thought silently, though he understood the reason why. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly happy either, but much like the other Governor present, duty won out, and the slender wilderkatta was forced to take the disciplined and calm road others might be unable to tread at the moment. His voice rose quickly, assertive and forceful lest someone decide to make this whole meeting into a drama that no one, especially Liselle, needed right now.

"May I have your attention, please? Seraa and good darkening, Excellencies. I am Imperial Judicator Ogabe K'tinga, Minister of Justice to his Most Imperial Excellency." he stated for the benefit of anyone who might not know him on sight, as well as unequivocally asserting and declaring his authority to everyone present. "I wish we could be here under better circumstances, but that is not our decision. We all know why we are here, so let's not belabor the point with needless preamble." he began, before likewise cutting to the chase.

"I have twenty Inquisitors en route to the Palace as we speak, coming to take individual statements from any of you who were present at the wedding. In the interest of preserving everyone's account of the incident unbiased and uncontaminated, I will insist that none of you discuss the particulars of the attack and aftermath with each other or anyone else until after eveyone has been interviewed, yourself included, Milord Regent. You will all be treated with the accord and respect due your station, I ask that you treat my Inquisitors with respect as well. Answer their questions truthfully, completely and as accurately as you can. If you do not have an answer, do not speculate, simply state that you don't know. This case may very well hinge on the most innocuous piece of evidence possible, and I don't want anything missed." he explained, hoping that no one's ego was going to be a problem.

He paused a moment, trying to guage the reactions of all present, as well as conducting an inventory of all the players on this particular stage.

[OOC]Don't worry, everyone, the interviews will take place outside the thread, with the assumption that everyone gives a complete and correct account of events, unless someone specifies otherwise. It's just procedural and correct to do this in an investigation of this nature, and we'll move the thread on as quickly as possible once that's assumed to be done.[/ooc]

[Faust D'Rinishad]

Having immediately taken to the skies upon receiving word of the attempt on Liselle’s life, the gryphon-mounted Vysstichi Lord sliced hastily through the air –all excitement borne from the heavenly elevation lost upon his panic-stricken features. The pair cut a shadowy silhouette against the darkened clouds, barely distinguishable amidst the torrents of rain that pelted the Imperial Palace below. None of this mattered, though, not the rain, not his drenched attire, nothing.

Steering his winged mount low near the earthen soil, the Prince of Har’oloth leaped from the beast’s sleek rump as they came within paces of the heavily fortified gates. Landing gracefully upon his hazel-booted feet, the dark elf drew back the black cowl of his cloak to reveal a striking countenance chiseled of the deepest obsidian and adorned by a pair of glimmering crimson eyes. The latter, however, no longer bore their typical sheen; they had instead been dulled by a very grim and prevalent fear of what was to come.

“Liselle Vampyler…where is she…” He firmly demanded of the guards. The urgency of the Vysstichi Lord’s tone spoke volumes of the magnitude of his concern, and he nearly pushed through the flanking sentries as if they had been personally responsible for the Governess’s dire condition. “I am Faust D’Rinishad…” He hurriedly explained, instinctively and eagerly clenching his mythril-bedecked fists by his side as he gaped towards the palace. “Sir Raliric Ered’gard notified me to come here at once…is the Governess okay?” Faust anxiously asked. Recomposing himself, his gaze continued to flicker from the guards and back to the palace, meanwhile answering whatever questions and impatiently procuring his visa for them to inspect.

And then he was off.

Accompanied by a host of guards, the Prince of Har’oloth’s step was bolstered by an alarming degree of urgency. He had been at the Crown Tavern and Inn, gathering his belongings and preparing for his return to Vortex, when Raliric’s messenger had enlightened him on all that had transpired earlier on. Surrendering all other obligations, the dark elf had summoned his gryphon and bound towards the Imperial Palace at once –the flames of anger had expedited his trip there.

Racing through the elaborate gardens and ignoring the haze of rain that soaked and weighed down his mythril armor, the Vysstichi Lord hastily followed the guards to the respective room in which Liselle was allegedly staying. Perhaps it was subsequent of rain’s frigid touch, but his gloved hands twitched nervously by his sides. Was his dear friend safe?

His mind continued to entertain a multitude of disquieting thoughts as he paced through the courtyard and towards the Governess. Both infuriation and apprehension sat solidly upon his slender shoulders throughout the trip, and it was not until he reached the respective destination that he exhaled deeply. Having been previously uninformed of Liselle’s physical state of being, the Vysstichi Lord whispered a prayer to Carmelya and then strode inside.

[Alexis Sapientia]

The young man had a splitting headache. Coupled with the emotional turmoil caused by sudden shifts of extreme emotion, he found himself leaning against a picture window, fingers staining the glass with its prints.

A good thing it rained, then. The thunder, lightning, and pitter-patter of droplets on windows gave him something to do while he waited. He found himself gripping the curtains, fear, anger, hatred, seething retribution being among those that swirled into his head, coupled with the fact that this was now his primary responsibility.

Duty called. He was the Imperial Minister of War, and despite his personal preferences, if this was a deliberate attack on the agents of the Aelyrian State, then this could very well be the impetus for an attack on the Empire, as a whole...

Not minding how his wet hair looked or whether his bloodshot eyes were clashing with his full dress uniform, so did Alexis find himself wandering to the Throne Room, directed there by obsequious palace attendants who, quite discreetly, gave him the proper directions, (and probably knowing the state of his mind) kept out of the way.

The look she'd had in her eyes gave him firm, quiet, brooding resolve.

One of the messengers had found him almost immediately. He'd dispatched the fellow to set the Imperial Legions within Aelyria Prime to full alert and to be ready for deployment, and for the Classis Principalis to be ready to sail at a moment's notice. The Port of Aelyria Prime was to be closed, with no vessels leaving until further notice. Same went with the Gates of the Imperial City. All senior staff and essential personnel of the Ministry were to be recalled, immediately. A curfew was to take effect immediately, with all citizens to be searched...

...his children, Mother of Ioannes, his children were at home at the Palais Lumiere...and if they could strike at her, in the company of a good portion of the Imperial Government...

"Mother of Ioannes! Belay that! Hand that list o