closed: @antiquatus date: 4th feb location: outside of the castle
Among all of this carnage, Pyotr’s concern was not for others. There were people far more suited to heroics and tending to the injured than he. In all his years of military service, he had fought through worse bloodshed than this, seen larger explosions take more lives. If this was some attempt to destroy the great houses of the world, then it was a failure. It was shock tactics meant to frighten women and children and, for now, he was more concerned with gauging the safety of his little family before counting heads from a safe distance. More could be gained from this - whatever this is - if he remained cool-headed and, most importantly, alive.
Therefore, from the observation stands where the panic unfolded, Pyotr slipped away, shoving others aside in a determination to reach the safety of the castle walls. Naturally, he was not the only one to do so. Amid the racket, others of varying rank ran with him. Like-minded fellows, he thought, sensible in their priorities.
Not all, it seemed, were as clear-headed. Others rushed *from* the castle and into the arms of the drama itself. Some were guards and servants no down scared for their master or their service, others were nobles - high born people with their own hides to protect. He all but collided with one half-familiar face as he neared the castle walls. A man of the Catholic faith, some Italian face he cared very little about and shoved aside indiscriminately as he blocked his path.