[To wit, Dion knows he's not responsible for the system of oppression that had for so long dictated the course of history in Valisthea, and yet it had been for his nation that Clive slaved away so. Perhaps it isn't true responsibility, but merely an acknowledgement that the old ways were wrong, and that something new should rise in its stead. He could only pray it would be so.

As for the present situation, Dion has the presence of mind to appear sheepish and apologetic as his companion recoils from the shock of the light.]

My apologies. I'll be sure to only conjure the one going forward.

[And then he turns his attention back to the entry room. This home is strange, at least in comparison to other homes he's stepped within, as there is no proper vestibule, but the front door instead opens into the living quarters. There is a disheveled living area to the right, with rooms and a hallway leading away into darkness where Dion's light orbs don't touch, and behind bar in an open floor plan is what modern sensibilities would identify immediately as a kitchen, but takes the prince a moment. There are ruined remains of books on shelves in a corner, pots hanging from a rack over a central island in the kitchen area.

All signs of life, if rusted and beyond use.]

They left belongings behind. [It suggested a rapid retreat.] Perhaps an evacuation? [He steps toward the kitchen area to verify his suspicions about the larder, if he can determine where he might find it.]