Naturally, following a bit of distraction he’d managed to encounter along the way to the ceremonies, Oskar had managed to completely miss out on what precisely had triggered the war now engulfing the French palace. Echos of shouts, followed by running feet smacking against the stone flooring, punctuated by the clash of the cool edges of swords rang through the halls. While most might have run immediately in the other direction, Shadow Emperor Oskar Habsburg found himself compelled to do the precise opposite, feet carrying him rapidly towards the bellowing ruckus. “Ah-Ha!” He exclaimed, grinning madly as he fought his way through the entrance, against the wave of those clawing for escape. 

Taking in the sight before him, Oskar placed his fists atop his hips, surveying the area as he side-stepped a stray sword. His first thought was to ensure the safety of his children, though when his search proved futile, he managed to promptly procure a new goal. It was the flaming red hair which first drew his eye- the burst of color twirling madly near the center of the battle. Squaring his shoulders, the Emperor barreled his way through the crowd, not bothering to draw his weapon in the process. Once he’d made his way safely into Ailith’s range, he laughed again, a strange sound to hear bellowing through the orchestra of war cries. “HA! Look at you! I’d heard tell that my betrothed was quite the spitfire, though few stories could have accurately described precisely what I’ll be getting myself into.” Oskar gazed upon his future bride with a mixture of awe and reverence, smiling slightly, his gaze never faltering as he extended an arm, activating his own magic. Taking advantage of the shadows cast by the eclipse, the Emperor manipulated the matter to create further protection for himself and his betrothed, crafting weapons to hang before them where once there had been mere shadows. “I must know, were you at the center of whatever began this madness? What on Earth could have caused such-” 

From the corner of his eye, Oscar caught sight of Ailith’s eldest son, Alistair, as he attempted to fight off an incoming attack, one that it appeared he might not be able to overcome. Turning abruptly, the man made his way rapidly over to the pair, feet seeming to glide over the stone floor as he went. “I beg your pardon,” He began, announcing his presence as he flung an arm forward, bringing his shadow weapons forth to slice directly into the attacker’s ribcage. “That will be quite enough of that.”