[ He rises, Caren in tow, lashes fluttering just as she expects, his hands helping her legs to secure neatly about his waist as he turns his head, catching the jerk of her chin in his peripheral. Endearing as always, his little sister, their relation (though not by blood) evident in the way he anticipates and adjusts to her habitual scolding; her penchant to be dour with an effortless smile. Yes, he is joyful, and what's more, he is unabashed, at the ready with the grappling hook which he brandishes with an easy grace and fires, its prongs finding purchase in the tower looming above. Testing the line, he seems pleased with its position, aligning with several pockmarks the size of footholds, the weathering of the stone beneficial for their climb. ]

No mana shall be wasted, only put to good use. [ Do not worry so, Caren are the words which pass unspoken between the King and his charge as his gaze turns upon Aisha, and Alice who hesitates, her hand upon the hilt of her sword. ] Let us endeavor to remain at the same altitude, during the climb. If any enemies should find us, we will face them together.

[ And be stronger for it, regardless of struggle to be found in traveling in pairs. ]

I do not know what this 'elevator' of yours is, Lady Aisha, but if it has claws such as your own... [ Light of heart and willful, the King's spirits are bright in the prospect of adventure, entirely innocent (if not somewhat in awe, even now) as he continues on: ] ...it must make for quite the ride.

[ The image it forms in his mind's eye is enough to deepen his smile as he shakes his head, pulling upon the cable before him as he finds his grip, his heels scraping the tower's side as he hoists himself (and Caren!) up, holding there. ]

Come, then. Our journey awaits.