Set Stage

The entire place was in utter chaos, as a good portion of the city was already on fire due to the dragon's spewing their breath around at random. Indeed, even the port had started to burn, the airships landed there trying to escape, but many are attacked by berserk dragons who see them only as prey.

Michael didn't know who caused the dragons to go berserk and let them out, or even where said dragon pen was located, but he knew he had to thank whoever it was for making his job so much easier.

Tiffania looked horrified at the death and destruction, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. At least this time it wasn't him causing the place to burn down...

Michael ducks as a civilian charges straight at him with a table leg? attempting to club him over the head with it. His blade swings upwards, easily cutting off the man's offending limb and causing him to scream... Strangely though, despite Michael's best attempts to ignore the now crippled man, he's forced to dodge a punch sent at the back of his head with the man's only remaining arm...

"I've just cut your bloody arm off!" Michael exclaims, kicking the man in the chest and throwing him to the ground with a thud. The man just gets up though, his eyes turning glassy and his expression slowly loses its form, fading into something bordering neutral and apathetic.

"Tis but a flesh wound! Die scum!" the man growls, though with no obvious anger despite the loss of an arm. He charges Michael again, but finds himself missing yet another arm...

The man looks at his elbow stumps for a moment before looking back up at Michael, "I'll bite you're fuckin' legs of-" he's interrupted as a flash of steel passes through his neck, his head falling to the ground as Julien kicks the body over. "Sir Mike, these people, something isn't right!"

Michael just sends a dull, sarcastic look at the man, "Really? Oh, no shit!" he prods his sword in the direction of the dead man, "They're like zombies, no pain, no care, no stopping. Did you guys plan this?" he exclaims, wondering if the loyalists were dabbling with some dark shit he didn't even know existed in this world.

Julien looks shocked and greatly offended by his words, "Never! We would never dare stoop to such base magic!" he says but tilts his head to the side to avoid a thrown stone, "On guard! I do not know when this will stop, but we must not allow this to continue! Keep your heads up and watch out for dragons!" he commands as he charges and sends a crushing blow into another mindless civilian's chest with his shield.

Michael glances towards Tiffania to see how she was doing, and crooks a brow at her attempts to free the civilians of whoever was controlling them. Unfortunately, while she'd able to Erase whatever commands they were given, they're still left there standing with glassy eyes, as if awaiting more orders.

"Tiffania! Leave them! The only thing we can do is find their controller!" he says, while thrusting his hand forwards and casting Shackles on a mindless man who was trying to sneak up on the elf. She turns towards the sound and casts Erase on the man, allowing Michael to release his spell, but her mind still seems elsewhere.

"But we're killing them! Their innocent and under control!" she shouts in distress as Michael and the loyalists continue to cut down any attacking civilians. "There must be something we can do!"

Michael shakes his head while slamming his pommel into a teenage girl's forehead, either scrambling her brains or knocking her out from the impact. "I told you, we must find the controller!" he retorts through a breath, not sure if Cromwell was responsible for this or not. After all, if he was then they too would be under his control.

Luckily, the group manage to evade all the berserk dragons roaming around with some smart pathing through the city, even if it did require them to jump over burning piles of wood and fight through yet more mindless civilians.

Eventually, the duo and the loyalists reach the town square which sat below the steps leading to the palace... But the stage that'd been set up to host Prince Wales execution was empty... Instead, the group was greeted by shouts coming from the palace walls that Prince Wales 'trial' was to be started immediately.

The group can only watch as the Prince is dragged up to the wall and has his neck forced down onto a stump that'd been placed there. An executioner wearing a black cowl and wielding a large axe next to him, along with Cromwell he's resting a foot on Prince Wales' back.

Cromwell lets out a loud laugh as he looks down at his burning city, arms spread out wide as he easily spots the loyalists and someone he hadn't expected to see so soon... His escaped slave. "TRAITOROUS DOGS AND MINDLESS ANTS! THIS DEFIANCE OF YOURS HAS ONLY BROUGHT DEATH TO YOUR COUNTRYMEN! LOOK AROUND YOU AT THE CAPITAL OF THIS ONCE GREAT COUNTRY! THESE ARE YOUR PEOPLE, AND YOU SHOW YOUR TRUE FACES BY MURDERING THEM IN THE MOST DISHONOURABLE FASHION! EVEN WHILE THEY ARE UNDER YOUR THRALL!

LET IT BE KNOWN, THAT I! KING CROMWELL, WILL SEE TO IT THAT JUSTICE IS SERVED!" he turns to look at the bound and gagged Prince Wales, who looks to have been started, beaten, and tortured during his stay in confinement. "PRINCE WALES! IF YOU WISH TO PLEAD YOUR INNOCENCE, SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR SILENCE!" he loudly announces, shamelessly ignoring the fact that Prince Wales literally could not talk right now.

Cromwell nods with a wide smile, "NO!? THEN LET JUSTICE COMMENCE!"