Calling on Madeleine.

“Y'know, Robert's no threat to you.” Donald says, as the two of you make for Madeleine's quarters.

You're a little taken aback by his words, until you realise what he actually means.

“Oh? I, er... How do you mean, exactly?” You stammer.

“Kara and him, they were together once.” Donald reminds you. “Things were quite serious, too. But... it didn't work out. And before you ask, no, I wasn't the reason. That time.”

The strapping Beathan shoots you a roguish smile, and you feel your insides quiver, your loins throb.

“What happened?” you ask.

“The man's pure obsessed with hunting demons.” Donald says simply. “Fer Kara, it was always just one part of fulfilling her obligations to our people. Robert? He says it's what he was brought into the world to do.”

“So that came between them?”

“Aye. Kara plays all independent, but she's always needed someone close to her.” Donald informs you. “Wasn't gonnae work with him chasin' all across Beatha huntin' anything with horns and an excessive libido, so she broke it off.”

“I didn't know.” you say non-committally. Of course, given your earlier conversation with The Spider, you're not exactly worried about Robert's romantic prospects with your wife, or anyone else.

-

There's a flurry of activity as you and Donald are let into the Dauphine of Sinnabarrow's chambers. Elodie and a couple of other servants rush about, attending to their lady, dressing, primping and working on her hair. Evidently, she intended to present a dignified image, a woman of regal power and elegance to the Jarl who had attacked her. You had your doubts about any of Madeleine's attempts to impress her dominance on a woman nearly twice her height, but you kept them to yourself.

The princess herself looks anxious, something you're not sure can be buried under any amount of powder or lip paint.

“Donald!” Madeleine beams, shrugging off her servants and stomping forward. She throws her arms around the Beathan warrior.

Donald clears his throat, patting Madeleine on the shoulder. You're certain he's never been so apprehensive about a woman throwing herself at him.

“It's ah... good to see you, Madeleine.” Donald says, once, after a protracted spell, Madeleine pulls back, straightening her black silk gown. “Don't worry, you've got nothin' to fear from Hjordis.”

“But what if the beast wants to finish the job? Madeleine frowns, fiddling with one of her rings. Her black eye's still visible, even through what seems to be several pounds of white face-paint.

“She'll have her work cut out for her.” Donald reminds her. “There'll be a cage between the two of you. Me, Ed and about a score a' warriors, too.”

“Well, I'll certainly feel much safer, with you and your men protecting me, Donald.” Madeleine says, glancing sidelong at you, barely concealing her sneer.

“The Regent's offered as many of the Oro Elide as we need as well, Milady.” Ben Swain interjects, hands behind his back.

“And as for you, Edward.” Madeleine starts, pointing a slender index finger in your face. “If I do this for you, you'd better not be lying about this information of yours. If you betray me again... well, I don't think we can be friends any longer.”

“I'm not lying to you.” you reassure her.

“Well, you're not lying this time.” Madeleine retorts.

“Shall we away?” Donald asks. “Let's get Hjordis talkin', while there's still a war to be won.”

-

At Donald's suggestion, you trail out of Madeleine's workshop, the three of you leading the procession of guards and attendants.

“So, Donald... did you receive my formulae and schematics?” Madeleine asks, her tone business-like. You suspect she finds some relief in discussing her scientific works, and not the upcoming meeting with the Giantess. “Jana told me she's show them to you before you went to sleep.”

“Aye, she did at that...” Donald says.

“Some of my finest draftsmanship, if I do so say myself.” Swain chimes in. “Though merely giving form to ideas advanced by Her Excellency, of course.”

“I spoke to Rhona, she said the refinements to the order's surgical knives might actually have some merit.” Donald concedes. “We'll have plenty a' chances to test it ahead of us, unfortunately.”

“Oh that one?” Madeleine says, trying in vain to contain her smug satisfaction. “That was nothing, really just something I thought of over lunch. I thought The Mirror was a more interesting concept...”

“Aye, reflecting the sun to set Deanian ships ablaze before they made it ashore, that one I actually liked...” Donald remarks, as your party enters the castle courtyard, making down the slope to the town proper. “There's just one thing you overlooked.”

The Beathan gestures up, to the typically overcast and grey Beathan sky.

“Fuck!” Madeleine exclaims, the realisation dawning on her. “Well, in my defence, I hadn't left my workshop for a few days when I came up with that one, you know how it is.”

“Of course I do.” Donald remarks. “Hey, I'm nae scientist, but surely that might work somewhere else? The Amazon Isles, or where Solla hails from?”

“The Amazon Isles are rather temperate.” Swain reminisces, evidently glad of the memory in the early winter frost. “As hospitable as their matriarchs can be, if engaged correctly...”

“No one wants to hear about your forays into sexual tourism, Benjy!” Madeleine sniffs. “We're talking about things that are actually important. My stamina potion initiative, for instance...”

“Ach, that one.” Donald says. “Look, I don't even know where you'd find all that Jitterleaf...”

“There are a number of farms across my father's kingdom. Where would we be without our national plant to grease the wheels of Sinnabarrovian industry?” Madeleine says, a note of pride creeping into her voice.

“It's not as pure as my personal cultivation, I'll give you that, but it should certainly be sufficient for your forces.”

“Not sure they would go for it. Most of the men here are simple folk, they love their families, their homes and the Spirits. Snorting up Jitterleaf every few hours would be a tad... worldly for them.” Donald deflects.

“That's why we'd put it in a liquid solution!” Madeleine protests. “I've been working on a formula that-”

“I'm sorry Madeleine, but it's not going to happen.” Donald finally puts his foot down.

“I think your men'd change their tune when Deanian berserkers are running roughshod over everything they hold dear. Besides, it's hardly like there are any side effects to Jitterleaf consumption! You could have an army that can stay up for days on end, that still has the energy to fight a battle after a long march!”

“Oh, look at that, we're here.” you remark, doing your best to head off the conversation as it grows more heated. You're once again outside the shopfront that's home to Hjordis' makeshift prison.