With her naturally small frame, Emilia would've been easily jostled and knocked over again and again, had she not have the protection of her two guards, and Nicholai's large frame as she made her way to the blonde noble despite the panicking crowd making their way out of the circus. It was a lucky thing for them all that Vasiliadon's streets were wide instead of narrow, allowing them the capacity to flood the streets as everyone exited the stadium, and the guards began herding everyone away from the main area as the flames grew in size.
Was it just this morning that she had seen the Lady Selene? It felt like a lifetime ago now, as she was caught in her new friend's embrace. Their morning visit to the temple of Aphrodite to pay respects and pray now seemed so far away, and none of the peace and quiet of this morning's visit and carriage ride would've prepared them for this turn of events.
Returning the embrace, Emilia's body and hands were obviously shivering, the sixteen year old princess not taking the image of the bloody head well at all, and the flames did not help matters any bit. Allowing Nicholai to direct their movement (as Emilia was wont to do, as she trusted Nicholai with her life, and would have been aimless had he not been around), it wasn't till Selene's call to wait, did Emilia pause her steps, and considered her words, before turning to her guard.
"Tis true, Nicholai." Emilia continued over the din of people rushing and screaming for their family and friends to ensure each other's safety. "Besides, the ship will not be ready till morn, and I do not wish to spend a night alone in a swaying boat. You know you will nay fare well on a ship either." she had large brown eyes focused on Nicholai. With the image of blood, gore, piked head and dripping everywhere still fresh in her mind, Emilia had no wish to spend the night alone in a room.
With his blade raised once more, Alypius was ready to lay the finishing few blows to this cultist, ending his reign of terror right there and then before his moment could happen, he saw out of the corner of his eyes a figure. It swung like a madman as the order to duck hit his ears. Not one to be stupid, and one to act on teamwork, Alypius dropped to his knees. Hearing the rush of air above his head, the lieutenant raising his gaze only to watch the man stumbled off the edge, surely falling to his death. With a satisfied grin, he rose to his feet, raising a fist to Vangelis as a sign of thanks.
Looking over Alypius witnessed a display of pure skill as the commander next to him easily dispatched of the final creed member, wearing that cloak over his shoulders. With that singular moment of calm, Alpyius stood there with his fellow combatant, their blades soaked and dripping with bloods as they both breathed heavily. Alpyius obviously came out the most wounded after that ordeal, yet his injury would end in nothing more than a scar. Another one to add to the plenty that already scarred his body.
Rolling his arms back, feeling his newly scarred flesh rub against his armour, he winced at the pain it caused, with the adrenaline quickly fading from his body. Yet his head snapped up to Vangelis as he called for him. Alypius was honestly shocked to see the man drop the crown to him. He was nothing but a lieutenant, probably not the best person to hold the crown from his fallen king, yet he had no time to linger. His feet blasted off into action before his mind did, and within moments he caught the crown with a free hand, long before it came close to the ground. Alypius was quick to stop, his eyes just looking towards the crown in a terrified awe. He saw his own reflection staring back at him against the shining gold of the crown, a few specks of blood splattered across his cheek as he saw himself. Brushing his thumb across a speck of blood on the crown, he suddenly felt sick. His stomach turning as his vision became dizzy. He almost could not bare to hold it, yet he had to shake his head. No people were still in trouble and he would be needed else were, now was not the time for feeling sorrow. Yet even still the words, “Protect this with your life.” Echoed through his mind.
Lost to his own thoughts he was only truly knocked out of it by the words of Vangelis, asking for his cloak. Alypius looked up, noticing the head, sorrow hitting his eyes once more. With a solemn nod, he sheathed his sword, ripping off his cloak with one hand, holding it out to the man. “May he rest.” Alypius whispered his eyes hitting the ground as he dared not to look at the crown nor the head.
With the Princes’ instructions, Alypius was quick to follow in the steps of the commander. Rushing down the stairs, he ran up to the guards he had been working with throughout the day, as they knew his rank, explaining the message. Very few words were exchanged, yet the look towards the crown he held so tightly in his hands were enough.
With teeth grit, Alypius re-approached the two he had battled with, following close to their side. He may not of been of as much importance, or as high of rank, however if he was given the task to hold onto the crown of his fallen king, it was not one he would take lightly.
With that the Soldier with a crown, Prince with a head, and Commander with a cloak made their way back to the palace. To meet the new king of Taengea.
It had never been his intention to take the Leventi ladies with them when they sailed. His wife was a slave and he knew better than to suggest such a thing as traveling without her things to any woman, let alone a highborn ladies like these. Protecting the princess was the sole duty of he and his two fellow guards, not that he could see himself leaving these highborn young women to fend for themselves.
Though he was no happy about the fact that they’d stopped yet again, Nicholai gave the princess and the ladies their moment before urging them to continue moving. He’d held Emilia in his arms just a short time ago whilst jumping down to the arena’s floor and had felt her trembling so he knew she was frightened.
Nicholai’s seasickness was common knowledge among the Athenians of course, but he flushed when Emilia brought it up before Selene and the other members of the Leventi clan.
“I was aware of that.” He said with a gentle smile for his charge, for he was really quite fond of the young princess, he had been since the day they’d first met when he’d been twelve and she barely four years old. “I wished only to ensure a very early morning departure, and thought you might wish to sleep through it all.”
Lifting his head and looking around, “Very well,” He nodded at Selene, “Show us the way.” He wanted to get the princess to a place he could defend, then he would send for a detachment of the princess’ guard to better ensure her safety in this foreign land, so rife with violence. For the first time since they'd left he was glad that Dawn was not here. He cared for the princess, but he adored his wife and did not need the distraction of watching over them both.
When the group finally reached the house, Nicholai sent the other two to get more of the princess' personal guards. There were many but scattered across the city.
It was not far off now, the finish line, it was within sight and it was reachable if only he could gain more speed. Stephanos was not that far in front of him, in fact, he was close to being at his side and so was Achilleas. The three of them were speeding toward the end, and if not for the accidents of earlier, this would have been a flawless race. However, it was not over yet, and as fate would have it, it never will be and the word flawless suddenly didn’t exist anymore. In the distance two, blurred figures were making their way onto the track. At first Iason thought it to be slaves removing something that obstructed the way, however, the sudden change from cheers to screams from the audience told him otherwise and the closer his horses brought him to the figures the clearer it became that something was wrong.
Iason immediately pulled back the reins, signalling his horses to slow their pace and stop. However, he knew he would not be able to stop in time. Of course the other racers saw and heard the same that he did and reacted accordingly, and before Iason could fully grasp what was happening, Prince Stephanos was no longer next to him, and his horses was the only thing Iason heard as they got sacrificed on the track in order to save what seemed to be Lady Olympia of Leventi. Although the gruesome death of the horses was never something Iason considered pleasant, he knew in this moment it was necessary. Stephanos allowed for his chariot to pass by without much difficulty and so he was able to bring his team to a full stop.
People were frantic, and once the dust cleared Iason saw exactly why. Fire was lining the walls; cloaked figures were blocking the way out and the King’s head was mounted on a pike along with a bloodied cloak that belonged to the Prince. For a moment Iason could not believe his eyes, but he forced himself to accept it right there and then. There was no time to ponder and process, people were scared, running around, not caring who or what they had to do to get their safety back. Iason pulled out the short sword he kept with him and cut his horses loose from the chariot so that they could escape while he tries to find his sister in all of the mess.
Looking around he spotted Stephanos on the track not far from where he was, and although he seemed to be injured, he was alright and accompanied by many, including the Prince of Colchis. Iason realized that all of this meant that Stephanos was likely now the King of Taengea, therefore he didn’t want the man to be alone at a time like this, but he also had Dorothea to look out for and with the knowledge that the Prince was well guarded that was what he did. Iason peered up into the stands where she had gone to after she spoke to him, but she was no longer there, as he expected. His eyes followed the seating and as he tried to spot the familiar brown hair, but he could not accurately see among all the chaos and all the different people running about. Dorothea was smart, and he knew it; she would immediately go towards an exit that was not blocked and so he followed his gut feeling and headed towards the stables where the horses were kept before and after the races.
After finding his sister, cutting free a tied-up horse, they exited the arena as quickly as they could and walked until they could find a horse that was not in a panicked state. Iason rode back to their home, knowing that their father will be waiting and he was more thankful than ever that the man restricted his younger sister from attending the race.
The final turn had been easy. Now the finish line was in sight, the chariots streaking away towards victory. Stephanos had further pushed his team ahead, with Lord Iason and Lord Achilleas pulling ahead as well. Nikos would not have that, not with the prospect of victory nearing with every hoofbeat of the horses. He decided it was now or never to run his team to their breaking point.
At first, it appeared as though his strategy was working. Lord Achilleas and Lord Iason had suddenly dropped behind him, and he was even gaining on Stephanos quite quickly. Perhaps he did recieve a blessing from Dionysus after all.
But the screams. He was usually able to block them out, letting them become drowned beneath the roar of the chariots and the emotional torrent of thoughts that swirled in his brain. But these were ear-piercing, wretched shrieks, not the thunderous cheers the crowd usually produced. He had never heard such cries of terror errupt from the spectators before.
Up ahead, he believed he found the source of the crowd's alarm. Two figures were visible through dust near the finish line. He was baffled at the spectators' concern for the slaves tasked with cleaning debris from the circuit; any other race, their presence would feed the crowd's excitement for bloodthirst, as more bodies only added to the entertainment. But the dress, as he drew nearer, was of men of much more significance than mere slaves. Or women, he noted, even through the billowing dust clouding his view. Lady Olympia would be recognized by any Taengean. But who was the figure at her side?
He was in no circumstance to ponder over the question now. With quickly amounting alarm, Nikos jerked back on his team's reigns with more force than he had ever thought he could muscle. It wouldn't be enough, he knew, but perhaps he could circumvent them if he was able to slow enough, or at the very least drive the team into the walls siding the arena. He cringed at the thought, knowing fully well that he would be sentencing his horses to certain death, but he would never hold himself to be responsible for a young woman's death.
However, the decision as to how he would stop his team was taken out of his hands entirely. With no warning, Stephanos pitched his team to the right, with the overtuned chariot and horses directly in the paths of the oncoming charioteers. Including himself. There was no time to react. Reality slowed as his team and Stephanos' chariot disintegrated into a bloody, splintered fragments. He felt the world suddenly shift as his own chariot made impact.
And then darkness as he was reduced to unconsciousness.