Checking in on Roland.

A few hours later, when most of the wounded have either succumbed to their injuries or pulled through, you return to the building in which your aunt had been tending to Roland.

The Shark is laying back in a fitful slumber, bandages about his great, over-muscled torso, a thick blanket around his waist.

Robert is still there, taking in every angle of the situation.

“Majesty, you should not be here.” the Beathan says flatly, once he notices you've returned. “I, er, mean, it's an honour to have you in our presence again.”

“What's wrong?” you whisper to the demonhunter.

“It's the Merry Widow.” he responds, in an equally conspiratorial tone.

“Moira?” you ask, feigning unfamiliarity.

“Aye.” Robert says. “You were there before, weren't you? She wouldn't so much as touch the water from the Holy Spring.”

“So?” you hiss. “She might've wanted you to conserve it.”

“She might've.” Robert admits. “Or she might not've been able to touch it, you ken?”

“What're you saying, Robert.” you slur.

“I've been thinking. Before I came up to Airgid Carran, I'd been investigating a killing in the capital. Everything pointed to demonic magics. You know who else was in the capital, just days before the slaying?” Robert whispers.

“I'm not sure what that would prove.” you muse. “I've never been fortunate enough to visit, but I'd wager Beatha's capital city's a sizeable place. If you're saying Moira's a... demon, or what have you, you'd need far more proof than that.”

“Aye, I would.” Robert says intensely. “Lucky for me, I've got a foolproof method'a securing all the proof my Order requires.”

His hand goes to the skin of holy water on his belt.

“No...” you begin, realising too late what he intends.

“What's the worst that could happen?” Robert offers. “She's a demon, her vile nature will be revealed. She's a woman, flesh and bone, we'll all laugh about this in the tavern later.”

“There has to be a better way just-”

“Stay behind me, Your Majesty. I'll see you come to no harm.” Robert assures you.

The Seeking Flame steps forward, waterskin in one hand.

“Oh Merry Widow!” He calls out. Just as Bezoriana turns to him, he unstoppers the skin, sloshing water in her face.

Taken completely offguard, the demoness lets out a horrible, inhuman shriek. Her human glamour shimmers, before failing, washed away as if nothing more than an application of make-up.

Your aunt pauses, completely stunned, before she cries out, the holy water rising from her now-revealed demonic visage as steam. Just as Robert makes to reach for his blade, Bezoriana raises her own clawed hand. White light issues forth from between her finger, and your vision is overwhelmed. From the demon-hunter's angered cry, you surmise he's been similarly afflicted.

You blink furiously, your vision eventually returning to you, just in time to see Bezoriana dash out of the tavern.

“Ach! Stop that woman! A demon walks among us!” Robert calls out, staggering outdoors, pointing at Bezoriana. As you follow the White Torcher, you take her in. If you weren't so taken aback, so afraid for her safety and your own cover, you'd have found the site of your aunt, her true nature revealed to all, half-waddling towards the town gates, gravely pregnant, a little comical.

No, what you most feel is nervous. Robert could've just as easily played his little gambit on you. Would you react in a similar pained way? You weren't sure, all you knew was you were far less mobile than Bezoriana. Any such exposure would undoubtedly spell the end of you.

Bezoriana is fast indeed, shrewd and able to take advantage of the disarray within the town enough to slip out of the gate, though many onlookers see her unveiled form, some even giving chase alongside Robert.

Try as you might, the more able runners quickly outstrip you, leaving you to pant, regaining your breath, not terribly far from the tavern.

“What in the Spirits' name is goin' on?” Kara asks later, approaching you in the town square. The place positively thrums with gossip and wild exaggerations now, the few who had actually witnessed the demoness' flight not letting their factual knowledge get in the way of a thrilling retelling.

“There was- A... demon.” you say, channelling your very real concern into a more outwardly proper affront at being so close to one of the very creatures whose blood flowed through your veins.

“A demon? You're talkin' shite!” Kara says incredulously.

“No. It was, what's her name, Moira?” you tell your wife haltingly. “Robert exposed her, before my very eyes.”

“Sounds like his type a' foolishness.” Kara says, shaking her head. You can tell from her tone, there's history there. “Ach, and she married us! Was already getting' enough stick from some a' Donald's lords, marryin' a foreigner. Now it turns out some hellion officiated it? Peachy.”

“Are you alright yourself, though?” the princess asks, looking up at you with concern in her tender blue eyes. “Can't imagine what it must've been like for you, seein' one of those abominations after what happened to your da...”

“I'm... fine.” you tell her, placing your good arm around her shoulder. Kara softly embraces you. “She didn't come anywhere near me.”

“You know... if you want, we could go back to ours.” Kara offers. “Unharmed or not, I reckon you could do wi' some cheerin' up.”

You're touched, and tempted by Kara's offer, but part of you knows that with Roland out of commission, you're Bezoriana's only hope of getting away from the White Torch alive...