George
Uriel's expression remained grim and unchanged. The lord typically interacted with his business partners in a more amicable manner, using a charm that came naturally to most in the trading world. He could not afford to uphold such a demeanor in this moment, though, given the gravity of this exchange he could hardly believe he was agreeing to. 

This outcome was not exactly what he had expected, but it would still play to Marcelis's favor — and ultimately, his. The lord sighed, quite honestly perturbed at how calm this pirate emissary's mannerisms were. He'd leave practically unscathed and profiting well off of the peculiar dynamic that was House Python. To Uriel, it simply was not the most fair of trades, no matter his fault in the matter. And that irked him to the utmost degree.

He glanced wordlessly to Marcelis at Sion's concluding question. The lady met Uriel's gaze, setting her lips firmly as she realized there was little she could do, anymore, besides play the part of hosting lady once more. _Be hospitable. Feign ignorance. Though, I hardly need to pretend. I can not begin to fathom what he is thinking, and the danger we are in, but ... He would not make a fatal error. I know so._

She glanced down at polished table, able to see a vague reflection of herself in place of where the documents had been just moments ago. _Have I always appeared so ... Tired?_ the lady thought to herself, shaking away the thought and bracing herself on the table as she stood herself up. Every movement felt so difficult, as if the dread of being separated from Uriel was physically weighing her down. He had been her protection for two years. Would her identity be safe, even from afar?

"Of course, mister Prosser. We have several," Marcelis said, moving towards the entrance of the room. She held onto her hands in front of her, a polite smile playing on her lips, despite how drained she felt. "Would you prefer a view of the sea? Most do."

It was at that moment that a bright flurry of feathers zipped into the room, the mass alighting on Marcelis's shoulder and ruffling its wings. Oberon, her Caladrius, shook his head and raised his beak, the white bird puffing his chest out as if he were a bold guardian. He stared at Sion, making Marcelis's smile widen. She tickled the bird's chin, much to Oberon's delight, before looking back to Sion. "I apologize, he does not mean to startle. This is Oberon. Shall I show you to your room?"

Meanwhile, Uriel shuddered at the sight of the bird, remembering its origins and wondering if this whole situation was some sort of Hogcock curse he was just unaware of. He turned to his chief attendant, who had been hovering in a corner of the room until now. He always seemed to fade to the background quite easily.

"This will be our pilot run, but it is worth a try. The north side of the island will suffice. Fire them in quick succession. If the colors do not show, at least the sound may be distracting enough. Everyone needs to clear off of this island, and I need a boat prepared to go south. Do you understand?" Uriel said.
"Yes, my lord. I will do all that I can. Please, do keep safe. We will miss you, here." The attendant dipped his head a few times before rushing out of the room on his pudgy legs.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"It is imperative that everyone escape this island as quickly as is humanly possible! House Python will reimburse you for traveling costs and revenue from any bids unfulfilled, along with slaves that have been auctioned, but you all must leave, at once! House Python will protect your dealings here, but this island is no longer hospitable to this auction. Please exit the manor in an orderly fashion, but with haste!"

The chief attendant gave this announcement as the servants mobilized trying to return the room to its original set up, ushering the slaves towards more inconspicuous rooms and underground cellars.

Meanwhile, a pair of men were rushing on horseback to the north end of the island to experiment with a product that would be the first of its kind, and, as Uriel hoped would be a distraction bright and loud enough to buy him some time.

The lord, now, raced on horseback toward the southern end of the island, riding through the bustling streets of the central hub of Basil Island, not carrying much on him besides a sack of essential belongings, coin, and the letter addressed to him from Akno that had inspired the auction in the first place.

Racing toward the docks was a series of trickling lines of lords and ladies, accompanied by posseys of servants and guards. Several of them were in carriages provided at the courtesy of Basil Island. Others were content to be going on fit, eager to be as far away from the auction as possible, but not realizing that in such little time, the docks would be secured.

Indeed, the guard who'd been sent to warn Uriel was heaved over next to a tree on the path, breathing heavily and raising his hand to try and alert the lords and ladies, but miserably failing as he could not form a complete thought in between his gasps for air.

"Oh forget it," He finally huffed, resting back on the tree and clutching onto his chest, the run taking more of a toll on him than he'd originally imagined.
Karen
The Emissary clasped his hands, giving Uriel a nod and making his way to the side of Marcelis. "Wow!" He said aloud. It had gone considerably smoother than he had anticipated. "The sea would be perfect, thank you! Do you dri—" His voice rose and was caught in his throat the moment the majestic bird burst from the doorframe. "Drink." He said, hoarsely. He raised a finger up to the bird absentmindedly, in an attempt to vaguely inspect it. "Thats a Terresolian bird. A rare one, yes?" He squinted behind his glasses, trying to discern its ornithology. A slow smile crept across his face. "You know, the boss—" He paused, "His Majesty is going to be absolutely thrilled at this. He's wanted Basil Island for some time now. And you seem more than agreeable. I technically wasn't sent here to do this—" He moved his hand back to the clipboard and gestured to it. "These were his design. My job is to acclimate you and in part, your husband, to your new sovereign. If you have any questions, I am at your service. I am by no means the new master of your house." Sion briefly imagined him having to deal with the issue of succession. He rolled his eyes, "Gods no."
Steven
Soon, a ship flying Chios banners headed towards the dock. The Captain didn't expect much, as the ship came into view much quicker than the Captain anticipated. They must've loaded up anyone who was already ready or could ready themselves on the ship ride over. But men and women to control the docks were still men and women to control the docks. If given that enough arrived, Gavino and some men could march on the estate itself, and take the Pythons into custody.

"Be ready to leave for the estate, the docks are the most likely escape route for many of the visitors, but not the only one, I'm sure." He said to the men around him. Gavino did not have time to gather his best men for the task, but the ones around him should serve well enough. "Except you, you'll be in charge of the docks" He said to a nameless lieutenant that Tyler doesn't want to name right now.

Once the ship arrived at the docks, he saw that his predictions were right. The men and women on this ship were obviously not the main chunk of Chios forces. Whether Chios didn't want to send their best, or whether this was just the first wave in response to urgency included in the pigeon's letter he did not know, but there was enough to replace the men he was taking to the estate plus a little extra.

Gavino took 19 men with him to the estate. It was clear that their arrival has been broadcasted since the visitors to the estate were in a panic. But Gavino cared little for the visitors, his primary goal at this moment was finding the Pythons.
George
Marcelis watched as Oberon leaned forward to inspect Sion's finger, before sharply recoiling, leaning close to the lady's head. The bird adjusted his stance on her shoulder, ruffling his feathers again and resting back in a regal fashion. 

"Rare, indeed. He is my most prized companion, as aCaladrius. I do, drink, but.." Marcelis trailed off as she watched Uriel go, her eyes lingering on his back. He hardly even said goodbye. The whole time, it felt like there was something he wanted to say, but... Didn't. 

The lady tried to shake off her doubts, sighing and looking again at Prosser. She was a bit unsettled as he explained more about the Pirate King, trying to hide her discomfort by beginning to walk toward the foyer, listening at the noise of the guests beginning to leave. Trying to remain calm, and Oberon helping her with this feat, the lady began climbing the staircase that began winding up onto the second through fourth floors of the manor, holding her dress so that her heels would not catch on the velvet fabric.

"I am not sure what you mean by ... Acclimate. If I am being quite honest, Basil Island has always been far enough from the mainland to feel slightly separate, in theory, at least, from the rest of Terresol. I appreciate your desire to help. Though, being a vassal house for the Pirate King will not require significantly more than what is expected of us now, correct?"

She was new to the immersive political aspect of being a ruling lady, but felt at least partially comfortable asking these questions to Sion. He didn't seem to be a shady fellow, no matter how detested Uriel was at first seeing him.