Traveling with Cagliostro and Lorenza was never a bore, though he wouldn't admit it. Cagliostro was always loud and conversational, but Lorenza's quiet nature served to balance it somewhat. She would keep him busy as best as she could, but on occasion he didn't mind joining in on their conversations. Today was one of those days. A conversation about the popular philosophies of the time always kept his interest, and he had been carefully explaining the nature of Rousseau's more radical views.

It was just unfortunate that the conversation had been so rudely interrupted by suddenly appearing on the Plane. Or, it seemed like the Plane. The walls still held the lustrous shimmer of the Plane's stars, but the fact they were walls--it wasn't welcome. It was certainly one of the experiments that the others on the Plane had mentioned.

Robespierre drew his sword, planning to use a psalm to help him discern the nature of the labyrinth, but the footsteps startled him. In an easy movement of a knight trained by the sword, he turned to face the young man. The sword was pointed at Oliver's neck, but the magic Robespierre could do with the sword was likely more dangerous than the blade itself.

"Who are you," he demanded simply. His voice was cool and unassuming, as if to match his quite genteel appearance.