A Grand Fireworks Display [Hellvion Ball]

[Zero]

Micah smothered the triumphant smirk that wished to take hold, settling for a satisfied smile instead. It had been easier to convince Aella's father than he had thought. Everyone knew the man deferred to his wife - quite shameful, for a husband to be so weak as not to be able to keep his woman in check. Still, he let none of that show as he raised his glass in a toast.

"To alliances, my friend." He tipped his glass, draining the last of the wine, rather pleased with himself in how quickly he had accomplished his primary goal for the evening. "Wedding talk is tedious, Duke Avalon, and best left to the women. It is one case in which I think including your wife and my future bride in the discussion is appropriate. My only stipulation is the engagement be announced tonight."

He was not going to give Melora time to talk her husband out of this arrangement.

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The Duke raised a brow.
"Tonight?" Oh dear, he was hoping to have at least a little time to give his wife a warning before informing her he had just effectively sold his daughter off into marriage. And there was also the informing Aella bit...
But that might come easier than he thought, because Aella just happened to poke her head out to check in on the guests at the edge of the gardens and smiled when she saw her father.

"Daddy!" she said, her face blossoming into a radiant and sweet smile as she approached him.

Her father's eyes lit up at the sight of her, and embraced her lightly before turning to Micah, and it was only then that he realized now was as good a time as any....

"Aella, darling, you do recall the Duke of Orchy?"

Aella turned to Micah and smiled in kind, curtsying as perfectly as she could.

"Why yes. We've met numerous times, father," she told him, proud to remember the face. "How are your children fairing?" Though she was not about to ask on the specifics, she just hoped they were all well and good. She knew, after all, his one daughte rin the war and...

Well the woman his son had married......

Aella was not one to judge.

[Zero]

"Tonight." Micah confirmed quietly.

Aella appeared almost immediately afterwards, and he smoothly straightened himself as he stood, sparing a warm smile for the young woman that was going to be his wife, whether she knew it or not. She curtsied and he bowed to her - a deeper bow than he had even given her father.

"My family is quite well," He wouldn't have said otherwise no matter the trouble they might have had, "Lady Aella, how sweet of you to ask after them. My children send their apologies for not attending. Lillian is busy serving the Grand Duke, and Valia is heavy with child so much too delicate to travel, and Gabriel would not leave her side."

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"I bet the young Lord is proud. It must be exciting for him, to have his wife with child. Do you know when they estimate she is due?" Aella asked, genuinely interested. Babies were beautiful things, after all, and she always had a soft spot for them.

[Zero]

There was a flicker of something in those unbelievably green eyes, but it was so brief it might have been missed, and his charming smile never faltered. "Yes, my son is quite pleased to be welcoming his second child in short order. I can't say for sure, but very soon there will be another wailing babe in my household."

Micah was impressed with himself that he was able to keep any scorn, disgust, or even mild displeasure from his voice as he spoke of the bastard squirming in Valia's belly. That his son was claiming the child as his own was a farce. The vile little beast should have been gotten rid of the moment they knew it was growing in his daughter-in-law's womb.

Still, he couldn't bring Gabriel around to his way on the matter, so he swallowed his pride as much as he could and kept his mouth shut to keep up appearances. Tonight wasn't about his son, however.

"Lady Aella, your father has some news he wishes to share with you. Isn't that right Duke Avalon?" Micah gave the girl's father a pointed look.

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"Oh?" And Aella raised her gaze curiously towards her father, who shifted a bit uneasily beneath that look. He could only hope his daughter would not be angry with him-
for he already knew he'd be suffering beneath his wife's scorn soon enough.

"Why yes, Duke Coleridge had come to ask me something very important, and it was a request I could not refuse- for it was a request involving you."

Aella blinked and kept her smile, her gaze never leaving her father's.

"Oh? What is it?"

And her father hesitated only briefly, before informing her.
"He has asked for your hand in marriage." And before she could digest that, he quickly added, "And naturally, I accepted. Marrying him will secure you as the new Duchess of Orchy, and the wedding will be as soon as you please."

Aella blinked.


Then blinked again.
And again as she stared at her father, then rigidly, she looked over at Duke Coleridge-
who was several.. several..
several years her senior.

"You.. you wish to marry me?" she asked, which is the only thing she could find herself asking, and the confusion was quite evident on her face.

Oh... oh dear. What.. what was she to do? She was just promised to a duke! And it wasn't that she despised him or that the union would not be beneficial but...
She bit her lip.


Her heart was still pining over the most confused emotion for a certain ghost prince.
And while she felt herself bristling over that, she had no idea what to say- considering her father had already accepted such a proposal!

[Zero]

Micah remained a silent observer as Duke Avalon informed Aella of the engagement. It wasn't uncommon in the slightest for marriages to be arranged, or for brides to be much younger than their husbands. Considering what he'd heard of the girl's sweetness, he didn't expect any problems from her. It was Melora he was prepared to fight with on the issue.

As she turned her pretty eyes from her father to him, Micah smiled faintly at her, green eyes glittering slightly with obvious enjoyment at her confused question. "Why would I not? You're young and beautiful, Aella, and I have heard there is no sweeter or finer prize to be won in all of Connlaoth."

Watching her bite her lip, he stepped forward and gently took one of her hands in both of his and gave her his most winning smile. "Lady Aella, I understand that this news comes as quite a shock, but let me assure you that I have only your best interests at heart. I'm a very generous man, and you will want for nothing as long as you live. You could do much worse."

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"Oh, it is not that I wouldn't think that, that you wouldn't be, Duke Coleridge," Aella went on, finding  it increasingly harder to fight off her budding tears. "I... I guess I.. I just haven't, haven't much thought on the matter of marriage since... since..."

Since when?

[Zero]

Aella's tears did nothing to move Micah, of course. He would never intentionally harm her, but she could spend the rest of the evening sobbing in her room unhappy with the impending marriage and he would not be deterred in his quest to have her. All he would or could do was try to reassure her that it wouldn't be all bad.

He arched a brow at her curiously for a moment before smiling gently and giving her hand a soft squeeze as he kept his hold on her. "Please don't cry, my sweet lady. I promise I will be a good husband, and I know you will be a good wife, and a great Duchess. All of Orchy will adore you."

All of Connlaoth would adore her.

[visualspice]

Aella had no idea what to do or what to say, and it was difficult to hold off her tears as she turned her face away, embarrassed.
"Oh, forgive me I... it's not that I am unhappy..." she went on, a hand lifting to hide her eyes and futilely wipe away the tears.

"I suspect that it is just so sudden, but Aella, please be know, we all have your best interest here, and the Duke of Coleridge is a perfect match," her father went on- even if he knew it was only truly a political match. But well...
All he cared about was she was taken care of. And as beautiful as she was, his own wife made it near impossible for him to marry her off.

He might not ever get such an offer again, at least nothing so grand and so suiting.

[kleineklementine]

OOC: @visualspice  Heads up! I thought we should move this along! :D Anyone else who maybe still has a character in this ( @Moonie @Alegretto @Anadwen ... @Ivory ?), things are about to heat up!



A few hours later...

The Alliance of the Blue Star worked by consensus. No decision or plan was made unless everyone agreed. A plan had been agreed upon for tonight, a decision made. The Alliance did not attack civilians, they did not condone unnecessary violence. But a lavish ball, thrown in the midst of a war that was still claiming lives every day, after a winter that left the majority of the nation starving; that couldn’t be ignored. So they had all agreed; once they knew they could infiltrate the event, they would not make an attack. They would make a statement.

That the nobility could not hide their heads in the sand. Could not pretend, even for a night, that the war was over. How could dancing and lavish food and drink be permitted, when innocent people were still being held like animals in camps to be beaten and starved and slaughtered? How could the nobility imagine holding a ball when there was already rumors that a draft would be set in the country recruiting boys as young as fifteen? It was outrageous. To let it go on unchallenged, surely, would be a crime. But it must be done with minimal loss of life. The plan they had decided on was a statement, not a slaughter.

But as soon as Roderick Caersly learned that the Grand Duke would be in attendance, he made a secret plan of his own. Unlike most of the other rebels, Roderick was not a mage. He had never seen the inside of the camps where many of his compatriots had suffered. But he was a father. Or he had been. He spoke his thoughts to no one. He knew they would never agree. Such an action, he knew, they would call a crime.

But there was a greater crime that needed answering.

Though he grieved for the news she received, Roderick was glad that Constance had separated from him on her own. That she was out in the gardens still. He didn’t want her to be here. But it wouldn’t change what he had to do. And now, seeing that the Grand Duke was newly disengaged from a conversation partner, he took the opportunity to approach Calent.

“Your Grace,” Roderick started graciously, bowing his head in a humbled greeting to the Grand Duke. “We’ve never been introduced, but I would like to wish you a heartfelt congratulations at the new addition to your family. A daughter is, surely, the greatest blessing.”

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Calent turned on heel and nodded towards the man who had approached.
"Indeed, a child is always a blessing, a gift from Angsar."
Studying the man, he realized he knew not who he was, but prodded first a different question besides asking him his name.
"Do you have children?"

[kleineklementine]

***Important post for this event!***

“Two daughters. Beautiful girls. They were a true blessing.” Roderick still spoke pleasantly enough, but the past tense he used speaking about his girls hinted at darker things to come.

“Lord, were they beautiful. Took after their mother, not me. Long blonde hair and bright, warm brown eyes. Perfect in every way. I’m sure you know what I mean, Your Grace, having a daughter yourself. I hope your daughter has years and years stretching out before her to grow into a beautiful and possessed woman.”

The fact that the man was still talking at all - most lower nobles kept their words to the Grand Duke short, if they spoke at all! - might have been a sign something was wrong. And as Roderick continued, his voice grew increasingly agitated. And he stayed close enough to Calent that the Grand Duke wouldn’t be able to easily evade him.

“My girls didn’t get that chance. They’re both in the earth, now. They were perfect… perfect... But they were two. Twins, you see? They were sweet girls, normal girls. But when your men came to take the mages away, they didn’t care. They didn’t give a lick that the girls weren’t mages. Twins, bad enough they said! They were only seven years old. Seven years old when they took them away, weeping, to your godforsaken ‘camps’ in the north! Seven!”

Alarm sparked through the area immediately around the two men. The sound of guards rushing forward from the edges of the ball reached Roderick, but he didn’t stop.

“Maybe they were eight by the time they died. Cold, starved, sick to death, and alone in your camps! Because YOU killed them, Calent Allarick!” Roderick grabbed the Grand Duke by his shirt collar, yelling now. But his other hand was concealed in his pocket. “The blood of my daughters, my innocent girls, is on YOUR hands! MURDERER!”

The words hung for just a moment before the guards grabbed the man who, by now, was yelling loud enough for half the ball to hear his accusations. Two guards grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, wrenching him away from Calent. But Roderick wasn't going to lose this opportunity.

His hand in his pocket pulled a trigger. He'd modified it himself for this purpose. It was put together to ignite what was concealed beneath his shirt. The winter had left Roderick gaunt and skinny; there had been plenty of room beneath his ball attire to pack a deadly amount of gun powder and shrapnel: the largest bomb he could build and conceal.

And now was time.

In that moment, everything turned into a deafening roar as Roderick ignited the explosion which erupted with a shock of force and chaos. Whatever was left of Roderick and the guards splattered over the hall. The force of the explosion shook the foundation of the hall. The wall nearest the explosion swayed and creaked, then with a second deafening roar, collapsed inward onto the ball.

[visualspice]

A high pitch noise was all that existed, that and the far away sensation of the rumbling ground that, despite this dissociation, was happening all around. Pillars were crashing, smoke and fire swelled through the ball room like a dark wall, and for those not initially incinerated by the blast were now screaming in agony, or still frozen in shock.

The Grand Duke suffered the latter, his ears still piercing, the sound unbearable, and the world all but lost to him. He couldn't even feel it, the burns that seared his fleshed and the smoke that threatened to suffocate him. He was already lost into the chaos, and soon the ball room walls came crumbling down. Chandelier's smashing, statues crumbling, and people being smashed beneath it all like insects beneath one's boot.

[kleineklementine]

Milo Gray was making his first appearance tonight as the premature Lord Gray. At fifteen, he was too young to be a lord, but the war hadn't taken that into consideration. His father had been killed more than three years ago now, but it felt like yesterday still. When the invitation came, to Lord Miles Gray, his mother had gone cold as ice. Milo'd known she hadn't wanted him to come. He knew she'd refuse to come with him. Part of him didn't want to go, either; he didn't want to let her down or upset her. But he also knew that he was turning into a man, and he'd have to fill his father's shoes. Fulfill his responsibilities. Surely keeping the Gray name visible, showing that their house hadn't fallen, despite tragedy... that was the right thing to do?

He'd been uncomfortable all night. Naturally serious and a bit taciturn, he hadn't been sure how to interact with the young ladies who were still easy three or five years older than him. Or what to make of the even older lates who doted over what a 'handsome young lord' he was, and by the ones who had known Karol Gray, how much he was the 'spirit and image' of his father.

He'd been trying to duck away from one such lady when the commotion surrounding the Grand Duke began. The woman clutched his arm, but the accusations flying from the man - clearly mad - were far more interesting than anything Milo had to say! Milo hadn't known what to make of it. There was hardly time to make anything of it before

It happened.

For a moment, time and the room seemed to stand perfectly still. And then it erupted. When he was aware of his surroundings again, Milo was coughing soot and smoke and dust, his ears ringing loudly. He'd been near the explosion, but a fortuitous turn in the wall between where he stood and the rebel left him unharmed, if dazed. But the woman... Then Milo realized the reason he was coughing up soot and dust: the wall had collapsed. And underneath it... All he could see was one, old, bejeweled hand.

He was almost sick. But urgency won out and he looked quickly around for an escape. The structure was still crumbling and while he was looking he saw that the column behind the stunned Grand Duke was about to give way. Acting on instinct, not thinking of how his mother loathed the man, Milo darted forward and nearly tackled Calent away from where he was standing.

Just in time.

The column toppled across the room, mere feet from where the pair were standing now. Milo looked at it wide-eyed, panting and coughing, and stunned.

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The second his back hit the floor and the column fell with a deafening ring, he found himself unable to move, unable to breath as more dust and smoke swelled around them. Whatever had happened was incomprehensible, as the Grand Duke lay there, still as death, but still casting the wild shine of life in his eyes.

More trembling roused him, and though his body was locked in shock, it didn't take long for the heavy foot falls of soldiers to come pounding their way.

"The Grand Duke!" he heard one exclaim, but despite them being over top of him, their voices sounded so far away. Confused, he looked around, the world still spinning, mind and ears ringing as he finally turned to address Milo Gray, the young thing that had saved him.

[kleineklementine]

Milo was still on the ground, propping himself up by his palms, and panting. Just as the Grand Duke stared at him in shock, the boy stared back at the Grand Duke. The only thing on his mind was the question, what was happening?! over and over again. He barely registered it when another guard picked him up and put him, shakily, on his feet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to strangle out a stunned, "M'lord."

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The blood and burns on his face were enough to make the men now swarming around them panic. But even as they were moving around like a hive of bees to attend to him, the Grand Duke was still lost in his daze. And as he was brought to his feet, and so many fussing over him and beginning to direct him out of the way of the chaos and crumbling section of the building, he found himself managing to cough out, "The young man... bring him too."

Though he might not remember this command later, soon a bunch of men were surrounding Milo, asking if he was alright, and helping him off the ground. One even went so far as to say, "You know you're a real hero kid. The Grand Duke is forever in your debt." While ushering him into a line behind the fanfare that surrounded the Grand Duke.

The bomb that had gone off seemed to hit just the right structure, for the column that it knocked over worked as a domino effect to collapse against other nearby supports, until the entire east side of the ballroom was crumbling to dust. Even things not impacted by the blast were being sent over from the reaction to the sheer force of one of the might Hellvion columns falling toawrds the ground.

And Calent spared but one glance over his shoulder at all of the chaos, before he himself was taken outside and into the fresh air of the lawn.

[kleineklementine]

Milo was in too much shock to do anything other than go along with the Grand Duke's guards as they escorted him, along with the Grand Duke himself, out of the ruined building and into the safety of the gardens. He just stared at the man who called him a 'hero.' What could he say?

Once they were out, Milo looked back in disbelief. The ongoing collapse seemed over now, but dust still billowed into the air and half of the ballroom and the entire grand hall were lain open and exposed. How had one man caused so much damage?

Without realizing, he found himself speaking his thoughts out loud. "Who... who was that man? How did he...? Are there still people in there?"

But even in his shock, the man's words kept echoing in Milo's brain. 'The blood of my daughters, my innocent girls, is on YOUR hands! MURDERER!' It might sound like the rantings of a crazy man, but Milo couldn't help but think that his own mother would be glad to see this man - the man he'd just saved - dead. But all of this mindless violence... He had no idea what to feel, much less think. All he could do was stare at the destruction.

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His men ushered him urgently, forcing Milo out onto the lawn with the rest. At his inquiries, they answered simply, but with on less worry than he, "Our men are on it." And it was true, anyone on duty was already rushing onto the scene- men helping men, even the women who could were barking out orders and doing things to help retrieve the dead and the damned. But as Calent watched all of the despair- he felt numb to it-
Numb to the world.
And even numb to where his face and whole right side remained blistered and aching from the burns.