Darkness had descended upon the kingdom, and now only the soft glow of lanterns and silver swaths of moonlight lit the streets. The cobblestones shimmered gently, still wet from the light rain that had hit them earlier. Small houses sat in between tall apartments, some dating back from before the war. No matter what they were, they all sat silent and dark, each of their tenants sleeping soundly. Rising high up into the sky, built precariously into the side of a mountain, stood the castle. Its spires reached into the sky, some of them piercing the grey veil of clouds above. Lights danced in the windows, illuminating the sea behind it. Boats floated in the water, connected to the many ports of the kingdom of Mairdom.

Inside the stone walls servants and maids bustled about, keeping the halls impeccable at all hours. The floors were lined with velvet rugs and decorating the walls were colorful tapestries depicting the war and other historical events. Some even featured mythical creatures and fantastic beasts. Priceless artifacts sat atop expensive ornately carved furniture. Doors leading to the many guest rooms and studies could be seen opening and closing nonstop. Off to the side, a set of winding stairs led up to the library, which occupied one of the many towers. Upon entering the castle through the drawbridge, a courtyard alive with a small community of lords and ladies of the court would meet your eyes. The streets were clean and free of sewage, and wide enough for multiple carriages to go through at once.

But it wasn't what was outside that mattered. The crown prince of Mairdom was in a predicament. He paced the floor of his chambers, his long black hair tied back to keep it out of his face. Kalder looked up, glaring at each one of his commanding officers.
"How on earth did you let this happen?" His tone was clipped, harsh with barely contained fury. The men each looked down, their bodies shifting nervously in place. With a sigh, the prince stood up straight, letting all of the tension leave his body. He towered over the other men, a great height of 6.3". With broad shoulders and a lean, well-muscled frame, it was easy to see why he was not easily disobeyed. Intense golden eyes studied the people in front of them, seemingly boring into their souls.

"We cannot have pirates this close to our trading routes. Especially not with how fragile our alliance is with the kingdom of Mure. You all know as well as I do that the pompous fool who rules them would jump at the chance to attack us." Kalder growled.
"Perhaps it would be best for his highness to refrain from calling the king of Mure 'a pompous fool'." A deeper, older voice sounded. The prince rolled his eyes, and with a flick of his hand dismissed the commanding officers. He turned, his arms crossed and mouth turned down in a frown. In the corner of the room, away from the others, stood a thin, white-haired man. He was dressed in all black, and wore pristine white gloves on his hands.

"As much as I would love to take your advice Minsley, I find it quite hard to stop myself. Call it a bad habit." Kalder replied, giving the older man a small smirk. He walked over to the bedside table, pouring himself a glass of rippling golden liquid.
"Yes, a bad habit that you should tramp before it's too late." Minsley retorted, watching as the young prince took a long draw of the drink. Kalder lowered the glass and raised an eyebrow,.
"Minsley, has anyone ever told you that you have no sense of humor?" He asked. The butler simply smiled and replied,
"You do every day Sir."
"Good, someone has to keep you in line."

Beneath the royal chambers, the king sat in his throne room, listening to the accounts of the pirates the commanding officers had. Each one seemed to be about the same group.
"Next time, have no mercy." The king's booming voice interrupted the leader of the navy, quelling any retort that had formed on his lips.
"We cannot have these ruffians threatening us any longer. Do you understand Captain?"
"Yes Sire, next time we will destroy the threat." The man replied, bowing low.
"Good, it's time we showed them what Mairdom can do."

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"How... excessive."

The walls were high. Ornate. Built of thick stone and guarded constantly by archers and knights and old world guards that puffed their chests and paraded around the perimeters. Windows stretched high and were coated in fine glass, melted and mixed with colours to create beautiful scenes of the kings and queens. They thought themselves as gods. Fragile ones, mortal ones, but gods nonetheless.

Gods guarded by such fragile pieces of wood and glass. Doors. Windows. Drawbridges. Ha.

A man stood towards the end of the bridge that lead to the grand gates that separated the land of the kings and queens from that of the everyday man. There were others clustered around him, whispering among themselves, staring with him. But the man up front remained quiet, almost entranced by the high walls and the sheer vastness of obstacle that stood in front of him. His blond hair was cropped very short, shaved around his temples and left just a little longer on top. His eyes were cold, blue, like a beast lurking under a frozen lake.

"Mr. Fox?"

"Mhm?"

"Everybody seems to be in order."

Few of the guards even noticed the group of maybe a dozen. They were dressed well, almost nobility, and it wasn't like the ladies and gentlemen were questioned about their purposes before entering the palace walls. Much too bad, it could've saved them a lot of grief down the line.

At the reassurance that everybody was all preened and proper, the aforementioned Mr. Fox grinned cheerily. "Then let us go and find our prince."

The blond raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

An orchestra came alive in his mind as every single door door and window within the palace walls flew open all at once. Such a simple gesture to create such chaos. It wasn't' a gentle slide open, either. Oh no, some of the windows came swinging open so hard the glass shattered. The doors crashed open thunderously, screaming off off their hinges. From the kitchen cupboards to the drawbridge itself, the whole world came open in the palm of his hand.

Chaos ensued. The guards were quickly on alarm, the noble ladies and gentlemen inside panicked. The sound had been so loud that even the people in the surrounding city cried out in unison as if a horn had been blown right in their ears. Mr. Fox turned to his men.

"Now, let's get to it."

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Glass shattered around them, flying outwards and being cast back in by the wind. It littered the floor, glittering up at Kalder as if taunting him. Small nicks welling with blood formed a sort of macabre pattern on his skin. He looked over at his old butler, glad to see that the man was unharmed. Fury bubbled up within the prince, and electricity began to crackle at his fingertips.
"Minsley, round up all of the maids and servants on this floor and get them down to the dungeons. You know where all of the secret passageways are, as soon as the fight dies down, escape through the nearest one. Do you understand?" Kalder's voice was full of authority, unable to be argued with. Frowning, Minsley nodded, and with one last look at his prince, dashed away.

"Now, who wants to play?" Kalder muttered, his words punctuated by a crash of thunder. A storm was rolling in, bigger than the last one by the sound of it. Good, he could use that. With a low growl, he tore his sword from the wall and unsheathed it, the gleaming metal reflecting his furious face back at him. No one attacked the palace without getting a fight in return. He could hear the screams of the nobles as their houses were ransacked, and the laughter that floated up to him through the broken windows. Pirates... He could deal with pirates. Kalder had long held a hatred for them, especially since a pirate had killed his mother and sister. This would be his revenge. Storming out into the hallway, he looked around, dodging the fleeing servants that Minsley hadn't managed to get to yet. The terror was palpable, filling the halls and air with a heaviness that Kalder didn't like. These people needed to be protected, and it was up to him to do so. Obviously the guards weren't doing a good enough job, or this wouldn't have happened in the first place.

"It is so hard to get good help these days..." He muttered, throwing a cowering soldier a heated glare. The man simply whimpered and scooted farther underneath the table. Like that was going to hide him... his belly was the size of a horse's ass. With a scoff the prince continued on, rushing down the stares in a sort of frenzy. He knew how much time was of the essence. As he reached the ground floor, the sound of clashing swords reached his ears. It was nice to know someone was trying to help. Kalder emerged from the staircase with his weapon held in front of him, looking for any rogue that was trying to sneak away. Bodies milled around the foyer, some dead on the floor, others surging against each other. Metal flashed in the torchlight, illuminating the better equipped enemies. With a mighty war cry, Kalder jumped into the fray, immediately catching an enemy on the end of his sword.
"Good riddance heathen." He spat, tearing it from the man's flesh. Bright crimson dripped from the weapon onto the stone floor, painting the grey with a new color.

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What was ordinary for the spider was chaos for the fly. For the nobles who lived within the walls, the screaming of splintering wood and the shattering of glass was the end of their sheltered little world. For Byron, it was a piece of music that he was the conductor of. With every snap of his finger, doors came swinging open and closed. Windows flew off their hinges, cupboards tipped from the force. Doors that were previously locked flew open with ease. Sometimes a few did, sometimes they all moved together like a symphony at Byron's fingertips. He loved it.

And what luck! A nearly group of hooligans and pirates had decided this was the perfect time to pounce as well. No matter, they probably weren't looking for the same treasure Byron was after.

Like a carefully orchestrated team, the dozen or so men split off from him as soon as they entered the walls. They all knew where they needed to go, what they needed to do and who they needed to find. Locate the prince, report back and he'd take care of the rest. Byron's eyes scanned the chaos, the small smile melting into a stern gaze.

The Ex-Smoker's Society wasn't too well known and weren't usually considered as much of a threat as, say, pirates were. That was because they didn't go after small fish; instead, they liked to control them. A syndicate, a mafia, a triad; whatever you wanted to call them, they had a hand in everything in the kingdom. Byron himself wasn't the head, but he was certainly up there, manning the more important retrievals.

Ah, but this time it wasn't any boring old prize.

Byron sidestepped past panicked nobles and servants, scanning their faces as he did so. No, not him. Not him, either. No, no, no... Huh, this was proving a little difficult. Then there was a cry, louder than the rest, from deep in the chest. No fear, but a certain kind of confidence that even Byron himself may have been proud of.

Another snap of his fingers and the doors flew open like a song, sending howling winds through the halls with the storm brewing outside. He stepped through another throng of people, under an archway and just barely catching the gleam of a sword.

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This was madness. Blood was everywhere, staining the once pristine castle. The beauty that had been his home was now gone, and that pissed him off more than anything else. How dare they come in here and destroy what his family had worked so hard to build! It took more self-control than he thought he had to keep from electrocuting everyone. Conjuring up his powers, Kalder sheathed his sword and grabbed the nearest enemy by the throat. This man was obviously the leader of the pirates. His giant hat and overly smug face proved it.
"Take your men and leave this place." The prince's voice was low and dangerous, with a lethal edge to it that not many people heard. The pirate captain simply choked and reached for his gun. A smirk twisted Kalder's lips, and with no more than a flick of his wrist, he provided them all with a show of his power. Lightning flooded in through the open doors and broken windows, coming to rest in the palm of his hand. Thunder rolled as the storm reached them, quickened by the prince's pull.

Shock went through the ranks, and everyone stopped to stare.
"Leave, NOW!" Kalder roared, unleashing a small amount of electricity on the pirate captain. Screams echoed in everyone's ears as the man fried, dead within seconds. Dropping the dead weight, Kalder raised his chin, daring anyone else to come challenge him. With shrieks of fear, the rest of them fled, dropping whatever items they had in their arms. They poured out of the castle, heading towards their boats. Only a small amount remained, and they didn't exactly look like pirates. He glared at them, unsheathing his sword. Electricity ran along the blade, redirected by its master. Like a god, the crown prince stepped forward.

"Who dares to attack the kingdom of Mairdom?" He called. Why was it that these men remained? Searching their ranks, golden eyes settled on a smaller man with greasy brown hair and a leering grin. It took only moments for Kalder to reach him.
"Tell me, what business do you have here?" The question came out in a whisper. It was a simple question, and he wanted answers. When his words went unanswered, he walked among them, searching.
"Will no one step up? Are you all cowards?" Taunting them, disgust heavy in the statement.

Whoever had orchestrated this was smart, and staying hidden was definitely the best option. Still, people had died, his people... They had counted on protection, and he had failed them. Despite feeling sorry for himself, Kalder continued walking through their ranks, looking for any signs of leadership. Perhaps their leader wasn't here. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in his head. The attack had been premeditated. Someone had planned this. But for what reason? Not even he knew the exact location of the weapon, only Minsley did. The trusted butler had been the only one his mother had told the hiding place to. And Minsley was gone.

Laughter burst forth from his lips, and he made his way back to the front of the group. He sheathed his sword, but didn't lower his defenses.
"I know what you seek, it is not here." He shouted, crossing his arms. Whoever wanted it was going to have to be very good at torture to figure out where his butler was.
"So please, do your best." The words were a challenge, and with a fiery glint in his eyes, the prince shut his mouth.

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Byron passed a few more people, skimming through them like a ghost. For such a tall man, he was very light on his feet and ghosted through hallways like a breeze. Being able to lock and unlock doors on command certainly helped him, too. Some definitely scoffed at his powers, but those who mattered recognized it and lead him to a rather cushy lifestyle if he'd work for them.

But the pirates seemed to have gotten the message and began clearing out. Ah, too soon, too soon... He would've benefited from the chaos going on a little longer, but he'd take what he could get and finally entered what looked like a grand room with what used to be a long table in the middle. A royal dining hall? Well, whatever it was, they'd all cleared out from there and left a few stragglers behind.

Byron paused in the doorway. There. There was his prince. But from what he knew, he was a wild one. Feisty, with a command of thunder and lightening. He hadn't noticed him, instead questioning whoever was left. Apparently the prince knew what they were after, and that it wasn't there. Funny, how wrong he happened to be. Finally, straightening his jacket and dusting it off, he took a step forward.

"Prince Kalder, is it?" His voice was a low hum, even and without a hitch. It was quite surprising considering the number of times in the past he'd been hit in the throat. The small smile made its way back onto his face; it was nothing short of friendly, maybe even welcoming.

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Liquid gold ran over Byron's frame, their depths churning with thoughts unknown to anyone.
"And who are you?" Prince Kalder's voice was wary. It came out even and tough, full of unquestionable confidence. He was definitely a prince. He didn't trust this new man, he looked sly, too clever for his own good. Now that the fight had calmed down he was able to focus on what was in front of him. Everything made sense now, this man was in charge of all of it. Perhaps if he killed him they would scatter? Kalder unsheathed his sword, the metal crackling dangerously.

"Whoever you are, leave. You've outgrown your welcome." He pointed his weapon at the man's throat, his face deadly serious. He wouldn't hesitate to do something drastic to avenge his people. His home was in tatters, his kingdom terrified, and his father... Well, he knew that his father was gone. That or he had fled. Hopefully it was the latter. No one had attempted to attack the castle head on before, and they had been unprepared. A mistake that would not be repeated. Since the kingdom was first founded, it had been the largest and wealthiest in the world. It had the most defenses, the bravest and most powerful warriors. Advancements in technology had also brought them to the forefront. Medicines that others could only dream about were made here in the palace laboratory.

Kalder glanced around him, but made sure to keep his senses attuned to the enemy in front of him. Servants that hadn't been able to escape but hadn't been killed hid behind whatever they could find. That made him even angrier.
"Do you even know what you've done? Oh, wait. I shouldn't be asking you that, because you don't care. How ignorant of me, I apologize." The sentence was dripping with sarcasm and dry humor. He thought of sarcasm as one of his strong points. Many people were annoyed by it, but it was an enjoyable pastime.

In the skirmish, his hair had come undone, framing his face in a glorious mane of thick black locks. He looked wild, dangerous, and unbelievably alluring. Not that it mattered to anyone but the women trying not to swoon. Fraught with electricity and sex appeal, it wasn't that far off when people called him a God among men. His mother had been able to control the weather, and the kingdom had thrived off of that power. Without her, winters were harsher, storms were more dangerous, and crops died more often in the summer. His father's power was much simpler, but a force to be reckoned with. He could draw the air out of any place, leaving someone without oxygen for as long as he liked. It had taught many people not to disobey the king. Kalder himself had gotten a mixture of the two, able to control the heat and electricity of the place he was at. And it had earned him quite the reputation.
"So tell me, are you impervious to lightning?" The prince asked, raising his sword with a smile.

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Yes, this was the prince. He'd seen those sepia toned photos of him around before; a gallant looking young man with wild black hair and eyes that rivaled the purest gold. His personality, as far as he'd seen, matched that up pretty well. Byron had come well prepared, but everything only cemented the fact that this was the man he was tasked to retrieve. He'd be some trouble, but apparently worth it.

The blond's smile didn't falter when the sword was raised at his throat, though he did glance down at the blade as if to inspect it. Already bloodied, though as far as he was concerned none of his men had died. Good boys, well trained, much better than filthy mongrel pirates. The Ex-Smoker's Society was a class of their own, something he could puff up and be proud about if he were so inclined.

"Please, put your sword down and we can talk." He'd really prefer not to fight. Despite being competent, physical altercations were generally avoided. He just didn't like getting into fights; it was so downright crude and dangerous. Mind games were more to his taste, drawn out and savoured like a fine red wine.

At that point, he lifted a hand and held it out, palm slanted so the prince could see that there was no weapon. "Call me Mr. Fox."

Just Mr. Fox, as wily and sly as his name implied.

"And no, unfortunately not." Byron shook his head in a somber manner, as if he were pitying something. The smile faltered but never left. "But we shouldn't need to resort to that. Lower your sword, Prince, and we can have a pleasant chat."

Byron took a step forward, and then another until he was less than a foot away from the tip of Kalder's sword. This was brave, or stupid, or a little bit of both. He was willing to take that sort of gamble tonight. Maybe it was the adrenaline that had yet to wear off. The blond was hyper aware of his surroundings, but he told himself to remain focused on the task at hand. Coming back empty handed, despite the monumental prize he needed to retrieve, wasn't an option.

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"The name suits you well." The sword lowered, but did not go back in its sheath. Perhaps they could talk this through, but every sense of Kalder's was on high alert. Trust was not on the menu tonight. Not for this man. If they were not pirates, and they weren't, then who were they? Where had they come from? Using an invasion and the ensuing chaos to manipulate themselves into the situation was far too advanced for most normal people, let alone the scurges that sailed the seas. Freeing one of his large hands from the hilt of his weapon, Kalder clasped it around the blonde's. Mr. Fox, it sounded so familiar... but he just couldn't place it.

This man intrigued him. It was as if he were a wraith. His eyes let no secrets through, but they glinted with a steely intelligence. Pulling his gaze from the Fox's face, Kalder watched the men mill around. How had they all been able to avoid his sword? Well-trained and smart, a dangerous combination.

A scoff sounded through the room as the word pleasant was said.
"Yes, as pleasant as a knife in the back. Keep in mind that I am only listening to you because these people have been through enough already. They need not see more bloodshed." After speaking, Kalder stepped away, gesturing for the servants to flee. They did not hesitate.

"I know what you want Fox. Unfortunately I do not know of its location. And if I did the secret would not become yours." Turning away, the prince walked over to a now bloodstained tapestry. Kicking the body of a pirate out of the way, he traced the weaving.
"My family has been protecting the weapon for centuries, but you already knew that. Otherwise you wouldn't have come here," With that, he turned to Byron, an ironic smile on his lips, "So speak your piece, tell me what you want and why. It will do you no good, but I'll still listen. You look like you need it."

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Not many people knew him as Byron. Barely any at all, actually. He just much preferred to go by his surname and the 'Mr.' did sound nice up at the front. He smiled a little wider when the prince told him that the name suited him well. Maybe it did and it was all just a stroke of fate, or maybe he fulfilled his own life after his name. He wasn't too concerned, just wondering how he would be getting the prince out of here.

But if nothing else, Kalder was a talker. He found that a lot of nobles and royalty were like that; they just loved hearing their own voices and the lyrics that came from it. The common people took it all as gospel, so why wouldn't they? Byron found it quite tiresome himself, but he wouldn't stop him.

His eyes almost glazed over when he started talking about how his family had guarded that thing for generations. Yes, yes, it was written into history books and legends. Someday it'd change, perhaps not today or tomorrow or this year, but it would. Finally, with an air of exhaustion, he heaved a sigh before reaching out and pulling a chair over to himself.

"Well, Prince, the weapon certainly has a storied history. But I haven't been tasked to bring--"

CRACK

Bryon blinked. It had honestly happened quite quickly, but one of his men had dropped a chair from the second floor balcony that overlooked the dining hall right on top of Kalder's head. It was downright comical, in fact, that he almost didn't believe it. A glance up towards the pillars and his soldier gave him a thumbs up, so yes, it had happened.

"...Well." Byron put his hands on his hips, walking over to the prince before leaning over his body a bit. "He's... he's out. Well done. Couldn't have done it better myself."

He wouldn't have even thought of it. Dropping a chair right on top of his head. He'd have to give that man a bonus.

Now, getting him out was slightly tougher. They had a mechanical horse drawn carriage waiting for them, but the prince was quite tall and even when Byron threw him over his shoulder, he was still quite cumbersome to carry. He managed to shove him in, though, and had him tied up before they were on their way.

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Darkness... and screams. The dreams tortured Kalder's mind, throwing him into a nightmare that he just couldn't escape. Children cried over the mutilated bodies of their parents, blood staining their tiny hands. It looked as if the sky was on fire, and as he glanced upwards, he saw something that took the breath out of his lungs. Flames lapped at the sky, dancing in a chaotic rhythm. The castle was burning... and from its windows a black shadow seeped. It faded in and out of sight, weaving through the alleys and nooks of the kingdom. People crumbled to dust as it touched them, leaving only piles of ash in their place. The remains took flight in the wind. Rising up to join the twisting fire. Suddenly, as if doused in water, the flames disappeared. Replaced by a dark sky and the hollowed shell of the once great kingdom. Barely any sound was made, only the gentle whisper of smoke billowing from the crumbled towers. A soft wind blew across the destroyed remnants, taking with it the only ashes left, and leaving Kalder with nothing but a horrid sight to behold.

With a start, the prince awoke. He could feel the sweat beading on his brow, and his cuts stung with it. Groaning, he closed his eyes, trying to figure out what had happened. The dream still haunted him slightly, leaving him breathless and groggy. All he remembered was that his home had been attacked, and he could still hear the Fox begin to speak.
"Well, Prince, the weapon certainly has a storied history. But I haven't been tasked to bring--" And then something had hit him over the head. It had hurt too.

"God, what did they hit me with?" The prince muttered. Shifting, he tried to bring his hand to his head to quell the pounding, but found that it was unable to move. Looking down, he studied the ropes that held him pinned. Blinking into the shadows, Kalder looked around, searching for any signs of life.

"Alright, where the fuck are you taking me?" He called, quickly regaining his wit. Annoyance and slight anger rose up in his chest, sweltering there as he waited for a response. He had let his guard down... dammit, why hadn't he just shut his mouth? Oh no, instead he had droned on and on about the weapon when obviously that wasn't what they were truly after. Such a simple mistake, but it had cost him his freedom. Ropes groaned as muscles strained against them, allowing them to dig into skin and chafe. A minor pain that the prince ignored. If he could just escape he would easily be able to get back to his castle and start rebuilding. Somebody needed to get things in order and take over while the king was gone. No one else in the kingdom was competent enough, except for Minsley. But he was gone as well, if the old coot had listened to his prince.

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Cobblestone roads that melted into dirt and mud were terrible for carriage wheels and mechanical horses' hooves. Rocks got stuck in them and they always got bogged down, and Byron was always thankful for a skilled driver. They were going along for what seemed like ages before the Prince finally awoke, something he had counted on but hoped wouldn't happen. After all, it would've made everything so much easier if he'd just stayed out like a light until they got to where they were taking him.

"A chair, my dear." Byron chirped from the front seat, leaning around with his arm against the headrest to grin at him once more. Two of his men had stayed in the back with him, the rest were taking a different carriage that followed not too far behind. "Quite funny how that happened. I'll have to give Ivan a bonus; it was ingenious of him." And worked with the tools he had in the moment. Saved him a lot of trouble, too. Yes, Byron was the type of boss who actually rewarded his workers.

He turned back to face the street ahead of them. "Nowhere important, so don't worry about it. Just to keep you safe and sound is all, my dear." He waved dismissively, eyeing the wet roads and the slippery cobblestone. It had started to rain pretty hard even while the prince was out, making the whole mess more difficult to navigate. "So just relax. We'll get there and let you out soon enough."

"And please try to not make too much of a ruckus once you're there. People are at work." After all, it took a lot to keep the underworld of the kingdom running. The Ex-Smoker's Society wasn't a hobby group. They lurked in the shadows, preferring their name to go unsaid, but they definitely had a heft of power behind them.

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Kalder blinked, they had hit him over the head... with a chair. Honestly, he was too preoccupied to care. Now they probably expected him to ask why they needed him, but that question was the last thing on the prince's mind. Electricity crackled in the air. It had a distinct smell, like fire but hotter, more dangerous. A little metallic as well, and it was a scent that Kalder had grown to love. Steam from the rain hissed as it hit his skin, rinsing away the sweat and blood, as well as the dust that had settled on his hair. Blue flashes of light crashed above their heads, as well as the sound of rolling thunder.

"I could honestly care less if people are working. And I can keep myself safe, thanks." The words were clipped and filled with a soft undertone of anger. Anger, annoyance, and frustration. Those three emotions were a constant in Kalder's day. He looked up, watching the storm. It relaxed him, as it always had. Knowing that he could fry all of his enemies with just a thought was nice. Chuckling at the daydream, he leaned onto his elbows, throwing one of the female guards a sexy, charismatic grin. She giggled and bit her lip, momentarily forgetting what her job was. The carriage jarred beneath them, hitting a rather large mud hole, but the horses managed to pull through. Curious, the kidnapped prince studied the creatures. They weren't alive, and yet they acted like they were, impressive. Whoever these men worked for, they must be powerful to allow such machines.

"Tell me Fox, do you have a reason for all of this? Or do you have a kidnapping fetish." As he said that, Kalder winked at the girl in front of him. He couldn't see her clearly, but he was sure her face flushed red by the way she covered it. The words weren't enough to anger the blonde so much that he wanted to pick a fight with the prince, and that wasn't the intention. The Fox was much too smart for such a thing, and it hadn't been the intention either. Such frivolous matters would only piss off a special kind of stupid.

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Byron chuckled a little, putting an arm on the edge of the windowframe. "Evidently not." Considering he had found his way into the back seat of their carriage, tied up and bound like a pig ready for roasting. Still, he wasn't hired to make quips at royals, though that would've been a wonderful job. He was being paid to bring the prince back all in one piece, with neither of them dead.

"Ah-ah, not Fox." He turned back again so he was facing the young man once more. Bryon even wagged a finger at him, as if to scold him, but the slim smile still remained on his face. It had taken on a slightly mischievous air from the last one, a small pull at the corners of his lips that made it distinctly different. "It's Mr. Fox."

The Mr. was a requirement, really. Fox was just his last name. Mr. Fox, on the other hand, was a title. A recognizable title for those in the know, so just Fox wouldn't do.

"And who knows? Maybe I do. But sit tight, will you? We're almost there." Just five minutes or so out now, really, into a derelict part of town. "Now I have to admit, this place isn't as cozy as you're probably used to. Please try to tolerate it, my dear."

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"I'll call you Mr. Fox when you stop calling me dear." Kalder's words were full of malice, and his eyes glared daggers at his captor. The Fox's reply made him choke slightly, but he held in his tart retort and sat back. He watched the slums pass by as they got closer to where they were going. This was the poor part of the kingdom, the extremely poor part... Whoever this group was, they ran their operation in the worst part of town, which could mean anything. He did know that no one was safe from them. They had kidnapped the crown prince, obviously they had power.

Studying his surroundings, Kalder watched as a couple of children searched through the mud, pales at their sides. They were pulling up squirming, wriggling snakes from the wet soil and dropping them into the buckets. Probably their supper. He felt his heart sink. Were the people of his kingdom really living in such squalor? No wonder they were so unhappy. But it was his father's fault. Though he was a strong king, compassion was not one of his strong suits. A powerful warrior, a relentless protector, yes. All of those years fighting wars however, had caused him to become cold. Turning his attention back to the leaning huts and crumbling homes, Kalder sighed. When he became king, he would fix this. As they passed by, a little girl ran through a sopping field, carrying a baby goat in her arms. Farmers were chasing her, yelling at her to give the creature back. The prince's brows furrowed, and a bolt of lighting quickly separated the older men from the girl, and she soon disappeared into the alleys. Grumbling about odd weather, the farmers headed back to their house.

At the Fox's words, Kalder looked up. A large old mansion rose from among the tiny shacks, towering over the streets. It looked like once it had been a church, or an orphanage of some kind. Citizens that ranged from well-dressed officials to peasants and surfs walked up and down the steps. As the carriage neared the mansion, Kalder realized that it wasn't as grand as it seemed. It looked like it had been burned down, more than once, and half of it was gone.
"When you said it wasn't exactly cozy you meant it." Kalder joked, laughing to himself. Well, whatever they had in store for him, at least he would be comfy.

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