The pageantry of a Royal Gala.
As a little girl, Montmorency, like most little Noble Girls she supposed, had been absolutely taken by the stories, the rumors and gossip that would circulate for months, even years after the fact. Tales of Princes and Princesses, music and dancing, rare performances and entertainments, fine foods and even finer drink of rare and exotic vintage. The parties held at the Royal Palace seemed like a bright center to the social universe that she had been born into, and even at a young age she had fervently imagined what it would be like to be invited to such an occasion. It had all seemed so delightfully innocent at the time.
Only as she grew older, more aware of herself and the place she was expected to take in society, did the young Montmorency daughter begin to develop a deeper and more personal fascination with the social events held by the Crown, one born of her own family's history.
There had been a time, still in living memory, when the Montmorencys would have been invited as a matter of course. When the Montmorency patriarch would have been courted as eagerly as the Queen herself. Influence born of their status as ambassadors to the Water Spirits coupled with well developed land holdings had, for a time, served to make the Montmorencys impossibly prosperous and much favored by the Crown as political allies.
But that time was over now, ended long before Montmorency had been born. Father blamed the misfortune that had been brought on their family on the Water Spirits of Ragdorian Lake. The Spirits had failed to abide their compact, and as their ambassadors to the Kingdom, the Montmorencys had been punished in their stead.
Montmorency wasn't so sure on the matter. Father had been barely more than an infant at the time, and most of the Nobility believed the ruin had been the fault of their own hubris, their lands and wealth stripped as reparations to the families and estates they had wronged in their complaisance. In any case, the days of Royal courtship were long over for her family.
And yet, Monmon had dreamed, she had  longed to be here even just once, to see, to touch, to hear, as her grandmother and great grandmother once had done. To peer into the beating heart of high society.
And now she was here, at the pleasure of a war hero, her soon to be fiancee, and in the company of the Princess no less! It really was like a dream, exchanging greetings and introductions with Counts and Dukes, walking through the clouds of mage lights, suspended like fireflies in the night air. Sampling foods she had never tasted before, never heard of before. Hearing the compositions of the finest composers played by the most gifted musicians on the finest instruments. Even a Puca band, set to play later in the evening as part of the the ballroom festivities.
Montmorency had taken to it as naturally as breathing, years of ceaseless drill shinning through and in no small part directing her. Father had not wanted this opportunity to go to waste. It was a rare chance for the Montmorecy's to test the waters and establish contacts. Especially needed now after their latest setbacks.
The young Water Mage couldn't help but lay eyes on the Faeries. They were so easy to pick out from the crowds that gathered around them. The Lady of Freelia practically sat at the center of her own cosmos as she told jokes and nibbled on snacks offered by fascinated young noblemen. Lord Zolf and Cardinal Mazarin seemed to have broken into some sort of impromptu discussion, drawing the attention of many of the older Nobility. Lord Thinker had likewise drawn attention from younger men, his fiancee hanging lightly off his shoulder in a tasteful evening gown of aquamarine. Of the Salamander brothers, Lord Mortimer enjoyed a place of honor beside Prince Wales, listening as with interest to the discussions of the Prince and General Gramont, and General Eugene stood out simply by standing up.
Looking away self consciously, the young water mage wasn't quite sure what to think of Tristain's new allies.
Father didn't like them, nor did most of the rest of the family. The Fae were an unwelcome intrusion, one that had already cost their struggling house dearly as over half of the Montmorency holdings had been swallowed up in the environs of Gaddan and its surroundings, converted from painstakingly reclaimed and cultivated fields almost ready for planting, into leagues of hard packed earth, stone, scrub brush, and defensive works the likes of which would have bankrupted a small Duchy.
Years of work erased in the blink of an eye by whatever had brought the Faeries to this land. With that at stake, the hostility leveled on the Fae was all too natural.
Yet for all of that, the Montmorency patriarch was still pragmatic as ever. A lifetime spent undoing the excesses of the past generations and rebuilding the trust ruined by the neglect of their duties as liaisons to the Spirits, had tempered a man who might have otherwise been quite rash. Father's dislike of the Faeries extended only as far as the borders of the City of Gaddan, and not at all to the contents of their librariers or purses.
Tonight was as much about business as it was a chance for her to indulge in her fantasies. To make her familiy visible, to make connections. And so Montmorency had dutifully obeyed her family's wishes, tearing herself away from examining the sights and exchanging gossip to court with in turn the key figures that she had been told to look out for.
In the company of the Princess, it had turned out to be an almost trivial task. Princess Henrietta could not help but draw a crowd to her person as she orbited the party, exchanging greetings and small talk, a crowd that reliably contained the most powerful and influential individuals seeking to pay their respects.
There were the expected allies of the Crown of course, Count Woestte, and Count La Ramee, Baron Gramont and his sons, and the Duke and Duchess de la Valliere, both in their finest for the night. It was an odd experience to realize that the refined looking woman who greeted the Princess humbly was in fact the mother of the Zero.
In fact, Montmorency turned her head. Where was Louise tonight? Wasn't she an old friend of the Princess? A Royal playmate in her earlier years, coupled with her family connections and recent accomplishments, she should have been expected to be here tonight. It was a puzzle, but not one that Montmorency spent much time trying to decipher. Her goals had been clearly laid out and there was no time for fruitless speculation.
Montmorency had exchanged small words of greetings with the Duke and Duchess, wishing them both well on behalf of her father. Her greetings were much the same with Count Woestte with the addition of dropping a comment about the Count's ongoing agriculture endeavors, experiencing a good deal of difficulty thanks to the marsh conditions of his lands, and how he might benefit from some of the reclamation methods that the Montmorency's had been refining.
The Count hadn't committed to anything, but he had listened until Montmorency was finished and then offered where he might be found recuperating the day after tomorrow if she or one of her family could make the time.
Then there had been Baron Goff. A member of the martial Nobility, elderly, formerly a purser of the Navy and still very tightly tied to that institution by old friendships. No heirs to speak of, but a slew of bastards. His title was expected to be inherited by his younger Cousin or his Cousin's sons. Lands located in Eastern Tristain near the trading city of Binche where the Baron occupied himself mainly in the lumber trade. Hard lumber, essential for ship building. It was a trade that was destined to rise in value now, in fact already was. If not for the small problem…
"Begging your pardon Baron Goff." Montmorency took the Baron at an opportune moment, just as Midori and Guiche had finished regaling him with stories of their exploits on Albion.
The graying old aristocrat looked out from beneath bushy eyebrows, blinking curiously. "Ah, yes my dear… dear?"
"Montmorency." Montmorency offered. "Montmorency Margarita La Fere de Montmorency." She offered her full name carefully as she curtsied. No point in leaving anything out.
The Baron looked ever so slightly surprised. "Montmorency? As in  a Montmorency?"
She nodded slowly. "The very same, Baron Goff."
"I must admit, it's been ages since I've seen a Montmorency at such an auspicious event." He sounded almost nostalgic. Monmon wrinkled her nose. That her family would be considered an… an antique! "Tell me, how is Horst doing? I would suppose he'd be your Grandfather."
"Passed away I'm afraid." Montmorency offered flatly. Grandfather had been dead a very long time, the ruin of the family had ruined his health, and he had died long before father had been fully grown. "His son, my father, is the current Count de Montmorency."
"I see, I see…" Baron Goff nodded his head slowly, heavily, as if it had been a reminder of his own mortality. Montmorency cringed, kicking herself for doing something to spoil his genial mood. But sympathy seemed to win out and the the old Mage reached out, patting her gently on the forearm. "A true shame. You're family lost a great man with his passing."
"Surely." Montmorency dipped her head. "But I haven't come to reminisce about the past, Sir. In fact, I've come to speak of the future."
The Baron chuckled softly. "I'm sure you have. As is the imperative of the young. Well, then, a wet behind the ears Montmorency. How can an old shrew be of Service?"
Montmorency smiled carefully. "It… would actually pertain to your business dealings."
"Oh?"
"Forgive me, but earlier, I overheard you mentioning shipping difficulties." She hadn't actually, but father had been very thorough in her instruction and it was very likely that the matter had already been brought up this evening.
The Baron scowled suddenly, proving her guess correct. "It's the blasted Oise. Water levels have changed since the Faeries appeared." He glanced over his shoulder. "Not to point fingers, God save the Queen! The snow melt  should have made the river passable to barges, but now… "
"The river is unusually low for this time of year." Montmorency concluded, receiving a look of surprise from the Baron who could not have expected a school girl to be so knowledgeable. Some thought that they could thank the Fae for that as well. ALfheim may have spared the more developed regions its trespass, mostly, but the blending of the two lands had not come without changes. Rivers and lakes changing course, but also the canals ways that they fed. Most were unaffected or easily modified, but a few would need extensive work to be serviceable again. Or, as in this case, had become serviceable in entirely new ways.
"Why… yes, but how did…"
A smile. "Father is as troubled by this development as you. I'm sure the mobs infesting the rivers don't make things any easier. Tell me, have you considered shipping on the Scheldt?"
The Baron blinked in surprise. "The Scheldt? You mean down to Ragdorian?"
Montmorency nodded again.
The Baron snorted as if the idea wasn't worth his time. "Don't tell me the Spirits would suffer my traffic! I've heard no news that their feelings towards your family is any better than it was a generation ago."
And of course, Baron Goff would be quite right, the Spirits would never tolerate gross shipping across the surface of Ragdorian lake. But that wasn't what she was suggesting.
"King Phillips Canal." She gave as an explanation.
Again the Baron looked confused. "But it's a wreck, incomplete, the grading…"
The grading and surveying had been done improperly. King Phillip's Canal, named in honor of the late King, had been an ill conceived attempt by an alliance of low Noble Families to reestablish the stranglehold that the Montmorencys had once wielded over bulk shipping along Ragdorian lake. By the time the error in construction had been realized, excavation had nearly been completed and their had simply not been funds to make the required adjustments and install the extensive system of locks that would be required to make the canal workable. And so, the ambitious project had languished for decades, its half filled waterway overgrown with reeds.
The Transition had changed all of that, just as it had changed the water level of the lakes and rivers. With just a little work, Father was certain the Canal could be opened now. So did the Fae.
A pair of Salamanders, natural philosophers working for some new Royal Institution working in parallel with the Academia, had been dispatched to survey the full length of the canal and had already offered their own, admittedly rough estimates. The Faeries were decidedly more cynical about the endeavor than their Tristanian counterparts, but overall, both parties had deemed the project workable.
Lord Mortimer had been willing to go so far as to finance the endeavor as a show of good will. In return, a very reasonable percentage of the profits for traffic would be payed to the Fae treasury.
A raised hand, politely waiting for the Baron's protests to die down. Please, Baron, my family is very knowledgeable when it comes to the waterways of Tristain." Years of careful research in their other business ventures had seen to that. "The changes in the countryside have closed some paths, but they've also opened others. Father has taken up the land rights for the portion of the Canal that bypasses Ragdorian lake in return for making the Canal passable within the next two months."
"Impossible! That canal can't be anything but a half overgrown trench." Goff asserted firmly, but he looked doubtful.
"It's entirely possible." Montmorency assured. "If you consider that the Oise's water level has dropped and the Scheldt's has risen. Most of the Canal way is intact and merely needs to be cleared."
A trivial task for Mages made all the more economical thanks to the new earth moving tools being supplied jointly by the Salamanders, Gnomes, and Leprechauns to take full advantage of peasant and animal labor. That the Gnome earth mages were capable of gross earth moving comparable to a line or triangle mage was also of great benefit.
Montmorency proceeded to list off a general overview of her family's plans. Of course, she didn't dare keep the Baron for long, but she was able to provide an overview that she hoped would at least pique his interest. And it did indeed do that, Baron Goff looking thoughtful as he asked when he might meet with her father to discuss the possibility. Montmorency was only too happy to oblige.
Bidding the Baron farewell, she returned to a patiently waiting Guiche, Henrietta, and Midori.
"Please, forgive me for keeping you waiting Princess." Montmorency dipped her head in apology. "In fact, surely you could have gone on without me."
The Princess smiled sweetly. "It's quite alright, Darling. Actually, I've found listeningto these sort of conversations can be most informative." She waved a hand vaguely to the Gala proper. "You'd be surprised how little a Princess is told by her advisers."
"I can only imagine." Montmorency said politely. It was hard to believe the Princess would not be furnished with whatever facts she requested, and at a moments notice.
Henrietta's eyes widened as if she realized she'd just said something improper. "Oh, that isn't to say that they don't mean well."
She glanced sympathetically to Cardinal Mazarin and then to Prince Wales who was now in the depths of explaining some strategy in general to a group of Navy Officers. Lord Mortimer in particular, appeared to listen most intently, glancing up from time to time to survey the rest of the gardens.
"It's just that sometimes they try to do the thinking for me when I really just want to know for myself." Shaking her head sincerely, the Princess finished. "So no, Miss Montmoreny, it was no trouble at all to wait. In fact, I'd love it if I could continue to be a… 'Fly on the wall' she articulated the odd turn of phrase carefully for any other crossing paths tonight."
"As you wish, your highness." Montmorency curtsied once more.
Now, she really  did have to find time to 'bump' into Lord Rute, her family was most eager to secure his help in financing a pharmaceutical investment. A bell chimed sweetly three times over the music of the band. But alas, it was not to be just yet. At the same time, Monmon was grateful, at last a chance to look around, to really enjoy herself.
"It's almost time for the fireworks to begin." Midori noted, casting her gazed to the night sky, and the slowly gathering clouds that had just begun to block out the moons. "Probably for the best. It looks like it might rain."
"Ah, a spring shower to cleanse the air and the streets of our fair Capital." Guiche murmured. "A fitting fashion to bring about a new day."
"Whatever." Monmon huffed. "I'm just glad it'll wash all the smoke out of the sky."
And there would be smoke, plenty of it. The Palace had commissioned a truly eye watering display for tonight, as anyone who had seen the barges being towed out could attest. Mortars and rockets, filled to the brim with clever alchemical concoctions, pointed to detonate safely over the river, or at worst, rain down on the fields outside the city proper where any burning wreckage could be put out with relative ease.
"As long as it doesn't start raining until after the display." The Princess pouted. "I'd hate to have it canceled. Lord Mortimer just mentioned to me while we were visiting that they even had a very special display set aside in my honor."
"I guess the Crown can't control the weather." Midori commented with a small shrug of her shoulders and shake of her head.
It wasn't the action itself, but the  way that she did it that so alluring. That complete lack of self consciousness. By all rights, Montmorency should have felt insane jealousy. Should have, in fact, wanted nothing more than to drown Guiche's stupid head in a magically conjured deluge. And yet, she didn't. She didn't because…
"Ah, I suppose controlling the weather is a power the Crown reserves for  important events." Guiche jested. "Canceling weddings and the like."
"Refilling the Royal Baths actually. And making sure of sunny afternoons when I decide to study outside." Henrietta answered with mock seriousness.
"Also, smiting people who make fun of the Crown's ability to control the weather." With hardly a hint of warning, Midori jabbed out, poking Guiche beneath the ribs. It had not been a forceful act, but it still caused Guiche to jump in a most undignified fashion.
A small fit of good natured giggles was shared between the Princess and her retainer. Montmorency laughed too. Because Guiche had been telling the  truth . Montmorency knew what a cheating Guiche looked like and this wasn't it. He was too sincere, too at ease around Midori. And the water mage could say with absolute confidence that Midori wasn't making the slightest advances either. In fact, she knew exactly what this looked like, this casual prodding and teasing, she wondered if Guiche realized it or if it hadn't occurred to him.
And in any case, Monmon found herself growing quite fond of Midori despite herself, and not just because she'd gotten Guiche into line. She seemed aware of herself, academically aware that she was beautiful, but at the same time, innocently unconscious of what exactly that meant. What sort of upbringing could have lead to that? The way that she countenanced every fluid gestures and change of expression. The slightest tilt of her head or fluttering of lashes.
The closest that she could compare it to was the Kirche von Zerbst, but where the Germanian did such things deliberately, to provoke a response, they just seemed to come naturally to the petite swordswoman.
If it was like Guiche suspected, that she had dedicated her life to perfecting martial technique and her skill with a blade, then maybe there was some truth to her being oblivious to etiquette. If that were the case, Montmorency decided, she would simply have to take it upon herself to make sure it didn't become a problem.
"Now, now, we really should get going then." The Princess said. "I'd like the opportunity to view this with Wales and the others."
And so they had, making their way back through the crowds as the guests slowly clustered together for the viewing. A sort of order could be seen in where everyone was situated, a hierarchy that mapped out where each attendant stood in the eyes of the Crown. Mounting the steps of the balcony overlooking the garden, Montmorency found herself surrounded by some of the Queen's most trusted allies.
The Vallieres of course, and the Gramonts, Count La Ramee and Count Woestte, the Lord Justice. Prince Wales and his advisers. And of course,the Fae. Lord Mortimer and Lady Alicia already in close attendance with General Eugene making his way through the crowds beneath them, the Lady Asuna standing near to the Prince Valiant in a show of solidarity.
"A productive evening?" Wales asked to his cousin.
"As much as can be expected." The Princess replied. "I'm very pleased by everyone's enthusiasm tonight."
"Well then." Lady Alicia gave a vertebrate popping stretch, "I do hope we can make them a bit  more enthusiastic. One of my subordinates, Alden, helped make some of the mixtures for these fireworks you know."
"Oh?" Henrietta looked intrigued. "Is that so?"
"Yup." The Lord of the Caits nodded proudly. "So this is a Cait Syth special tonight. Prepare to be amazed nya!" Alicia stopped suddenly, blinking as she looked around. "Say, has anyone seen Sakuya-chan?"
"Probably delayed by some old Noble Fop." Lord Mortimer suggested, examining his nails with a look of contemptuous boredom.
Alicia rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Mort-kun, she's not going to want to miss this!" The Cait ended her statement by starring intently at the Salamaner.
"Excuse me?" Mortimer quirked a brow.
Alicia simply shook her head, looking mildly irked. "It's no fun if you don't do the thing." She grumbled.
"Ah, Brother!" General Eugene called as he approached. "It's like you've been trying to avoid me tonight!"
The Salamander Lord turned to his General and sibling. "Hardly at all, brother." Mortimer's lips twitched in a small smile. "Simply in the right place at the wrong time… Is there something wrong." The small smile fell away, but General Eugene continued to stare for a moment longer.
"No, I just wonder, are you feeling well?"
Mortimer's enforced neutral expression turned to a full frown. "Of course, I'm fine. Perhaps, a little under the weather."
And he might at that, Montmorency noted the way that the Salamander's eyes looked ever so slightly bloodshot. Lack of sleep no doubt from long hours spent convening with the other military officers.
"I see." Eugene answered back, coming to stand beside his brother. From this vantage they had an almost unobstructed view out over the walls in the direction of the river. The barge was out of view of course, hidden behind the nearest buildings, but the fireworks would in full display tonight. Barring an early start to the rain, Montmorency added for her own benefit.
The bell had been chimed early to give people time to take their places, the late arrivals settling in. The last chords of music fading. Lord Mortimer looked intently up at the sky, and then glanced from the corner of his eye to Prince Wales.
In the silence, Montmorency heard a commotion coming from behind them, glancing over her shoulder, a group of guards were barring the way to someone trying to emerge from the Palace proper. They were saying something, but she couldn't quite make it out, and a moment later it was lost as the grand clock in the house of Peers began to strike eight of the clock, a special concession this evening to coordinate the fireworks.
-One-
"It might be a bit early, my Prince." Lord Mortimer said.
-Two-
The Salamander turned fully to face the Prince Valiant. "But God save the King."
-Three-
-Four-
The Prince nodded gravely. "God save the Kingdom of Albion, Lord Mortimer."
-Five-
And then a shout from behind drawing Montmorency's attention again.

An Imp had just pushed his way through the gathered Manticore Knights, shouting to be heard above the ringing. A Puca was following behind him, taking advantage of the diversion to draw a wand.
-Seven-
Every Guard in sight responded as one, drawing their own weapons level on the Puca's head, ready to fire on the young man if not for the fact that he was pointing his conductors wand at the imp ahead of him. Suddenly, the words that had been masked were coming through loud and clear, and seemingly from all around them.
-Eight-
A distant whistling cry began to build in the air, the first fireworks launching on time, flaring over the rooftops and arcing, arcing…
"-OP HIM HE'S AN IMPOSTER!" The Imp shouted at the top of her lungs, finger pointing up, at, at… Lord Mortimer? The Salamander Lord glared down at his accuser with a look of utter disgust.
… Arcing the wrong direction.
What happened next took Montmorency a long time to figure out, and she was never quite sure if she had it right or had simply made up parts to fit as needed. It certainly made sense, though in coming years, she and Guiche would argue endlessly about the specifics.
In no particular order. There was a pause as the realization of what had just been shouted spread through the crowd, centering on the Salamander Lord .The price of the statement being brief was that it was not clear what was meant. Everything that was to follow was completed in the time it took for people at the outer edge of the crowd to begin to realize what had just been said. Prince Wales had looked to the Imp and then back to Lord Mortimer, eyes widening in realization, hand dropping to the wand at his hip.
At the same time, Lord Mortimer's left hand had straightened, a slender, matt metallic shape falling through his outstretched fingers, caught by a crucifix guard.
General Eugene seemed to have been the first to comprehend the warning, but also hesitated for a hair fraction of a second, buying the 'Imposter' a moment of time, just enough room to slip free from the grip fast closing on his shoulder. He threw himself towards the Prince, diving past a startled Countess of Windsor, straight for Prince Wales himself.
It was not a desperate dive, rather, it was entirely focused on carrying him to his target before anyone could be brought to action. 'Mortimer' should have expected it to have worked. He would have been wrong.
A flash of black, a flash of silver. One moment the dagger was reaching towards an unprepared Prince Wales, the next it was shattered, flying from the assassins hand at the point of another, longer, decidedly more graceful blade held by none other than the Lady Asuna.
She hadn't seemed to move at all. Montmorency thought later. It was as if she had moved in the space between moments, only her starting position and finishing stance had been at all visible. Everything else in between hadn't even been a blur.
The motion, its speed, its execution, didn't even stun the Imposter as he spun away, not stopping, not slowing down at all, like it had been an expected part of a dance, legs folding downwards before springing up with a second knife, intent on trying gut the Prince before he could be put down.
A soft wind traced across Montmorency's cheek, something blurring past her so fast that the only impression of movement that was left behind was the long black sash falling to the ground beside her. Pulling something from behind her back, the immense butterfly bow untying around it as she did so, Miss Midori retrieved a black shaft of metal, barely a double hand span long, twirling the shaft in her hand, it slid open, the tip of a silver blade extending, and then extending again as it teselcoped to its full length. By the time that she was in position, a heartbeat later, Midori held a forearm length sword which she used to expertly perry 'Mortimer's ' next knife strike. Second blade tumbling away, the assassin jumped back with a look of annoyance.
Rushing through the crowds, Captain Hammond of the Griffin Knights was shouting to his subordinate. "Seize him!"
Sparing only a glance to take in the surrounding Knights, the false Salamander Lord didn't give the opportunity. Turning to the balcony railing, he took a running jump, and he leaped, not taking flight but dropping to garden below among the crowds of confused guests, unsure of what was happening.
Before anyone could think a single thing of it, before the Manticore or Griffin Knights could even take aim, the whistling had been growing louder turned to a shriek that ended in an eardrum shattering -boom- and flash of light barely a fifty mails above the garden.
Montmorency was thrown to the ground, not by the blast, as the Zero's explosions went, that one was strictly average, but because Guiche had decided to play the hero, shielding her with his own body as he fumbled for his wand. It had been for the most part harmless, more dazzling than anything. But while dazzled, the Knights couldn't pursue, and couldn't attack.
In the confusion, the false Mortimer had taken the opportunity to break into a sprint, crashing towards the gates at the far end of the Garden, closing the distance far faster than any human.
"Treachery!" Stumbling back from the confusion, dazed and confused, the Lord Justice screamed. "Treachery from the Fae Lords!"
"What are you waiting for?!" The Lady Asuna took one step, and then was frozen in her tracks as a wand was held to her throat.
The focus belonged to a terrified looking Noble, one of Baron Turnow's sons, the youngest who had just been accepted into the army along with Guiche. He looked like, well, he looked like he was ready to wet himself. Trembling as he tried to keep the wand in his hand level, not at all allowing it to droop or in any way imply the impotence he had to be feeling after seeing the feats of a Fae Swordswoman.
A vicious hiss came from Montmorency's side, Midori taking a half step forward as if intent on placing herself betwee the Faerie girl and the mage. Only a small glance from the Lady Asuna and a raised hand stopped her.
"D-don't you move! F-father was right about you… you…" A hand snatched the wand from the Noble boy's grip, a disgustd Griffin Knight taking control of the situation. But the problem was, their simply weren't enough Knights to do the same for every Mage drawing a wand.
Nobody knew quite what was happening, confusion reigned as more fireworks sputtered and burst over the heads of the gathered Nobility. But the Lord Justice's shout galvanized them to action, or at least, the Nobles who could be counted among the radicals. The distaste for the Fae, normally well hidden, had just been given an unwitting avenue to burst out. They knew nothing about what was happening, only that they were being attacked and that their had been 'treachery' from the Fae, the Lord Justice's cry had told them everything they thought they needed to know.
The Faeries, all of them, found wands pointed in their direction, from  every direction, uncertain Nobles glancing to each other for what to do next.
"I…" The Captain cringed as there came another -Boom- and another eye watering flash in the skies. "Damn it! Lady Asuna, Lady Alicia, all of you, please hold still for a moment. Do not provoke them!" Grabbing his closest subordinate, the Manticore Captain shouted in the man's ear. "Get Manticores in the air and take a team on foot to get after him. He might try to use the old waterways. Do not let that imposter escape." Turning to a pair of fast approaching Griffin Knights. "Sir Bjorn, take the Princess to safety at once!"
And another -boom- accompanied by screams of fright, the firework had clipped the wall of the Palace grounds before skipping along the lawn, smashing into a fountain and bursting in a geyser of fire and steam. In the mean time, between the blossoms of fire and the confusion sewn by the overly zealous Lord Justice, the assailant had made it to the gate. Roundly driving a bone breaking fist into the face of a Musketeer running from the walls to see what was happening, he tumbled through the rest of the confused squad, moving with inhuman speed, grabbing hold of the iron bars simply vaulting over as the first shots of flame and wind grazed him.
More sounds of battle echoed from beyond as the Mages and musketeers on the perimeter received word of what was happening and spun into action.
"Miss Midori!" The Princess shouted. "Go with Captain Hammond's men, don't let the imposter escape!"
The Swordswoman was frozen for a second, looking first to the Lady Asuna and the back to the Princess. "But…"
The Princess who had laughed and joked with them earlier had vanished now. Her next words carried the weight of Royal Authority. "That is an order. Remember that we have our own plans. I'll be perfectly safe."
"Go!" The Lady Asuna mouthed.
A heartbeat, a hesitant nod, and then Midori was chasing after the fast moving Manticore Knights. If Montmorency hadn't seen it for herself, she would have never imagined that a person could move so quickly without the use of some form of charm. Flinging her shoes aside, sword slashing downward to hack at her skirts until what was left of her gown could barely be called a dress, but it freed her to move, breaking into a sprint and still gaining ground on the Knights that had launched into pursuit ahead of her.
More -booms-, blossoms of light flashed before Monmon's eyes as chaos reigned all around. Shouts and screams of frightened Nobles. The next wave of fireworks were met be wind magic, not even proper shields, simply cantrips meant to bat them back up into the sky before bursting. A Knight grabbed Montmorency by the shoulder, pulling her towards the nominal safety of the Palace. It was a moment before she realized that Guiche wasn't with her. "Guiche!"
Quite the opposite, the youngest Gramont brother was currently being dragged along by his collar by the eldest. "Come on then Lads. Can't let a little gel have all the fun of killing a snake! For Queen and country."
"Don't fear my Monmon!" Guiche shouted at the top of his lungs. "I do assure you, we'll be back in short order!" And then, Guiche was streaking away, still carried by his brother who was fast accelerating under the influence of a featherweight charm."
To her left, General Gramont was furiously barking orders at any military man he could find, Prince Wales bellowing for order, to her right Captain Hammond was demanding the frightened Nobles stand down before they hurt someone, or, judging by looks in the eyes of the Lady Asuna and General Eugene, somebody hurt them.
Completely surrounded by people, and yet perfectly alone, isolated, by confusion and chaos. Montmorency was at last pulled inside, where the noise was perhaps even worse, now confined as it was.
How had her dream turned into a nightmare?