Investigate the temple with them.

“Perhaps I could accompany your order?” you ask. If they were going to be poring over the Cult's handiwork, it might be best if you were there to see what, if anything, the First Flame was able to glean.

“Oh, I wouldn't dare risk your life in this way, Majesty.” Robert protests.

“There would seem to be little risk to me. Surely, the danger has passed, and the temple must only be a short boat ride away.”

“A boat ride, Majesty?” Robert raises an eyebrow at your apparent assumption.

“Y-You intimated the Deanians were responsible, yes? They're well-known for their naval raids, are they not?”

“That they are, Majesty.” Robert remarks, his suspicions seemingly negated. “You're correct, the temple is close to a river, though we intended to travel there on horseback.”

Even as Robert spoke, you inwardly cursed yourself for being so loose-lipped. You didn't even have the amelioration of drunkenness, this time.

“I'd happily ride with you all.” you offer. “To tell the truth, we've equally little love for the sort that would do a thing like this.”

“Very well, Majesty.” Robert smiles. “We intend to leave in a couple of hours. I will see to it that we increase our numbers, so that you're adequately protected.”

“Thank you.” I-If you'd excuse me,” you slur “I have a couple of matters to attend to before we depart.”

-

“Corrine, I need your help.” you say, the second you're back in the privacy of your bedchamber, doors barred, enchanted ring activated.

“Good morning to you too, cousin.” The Spider says, bleary-eyed. “You're calling early. I was still asleep.”

The brunette's mussed hair is testament enough to that.

“There are demon-hunters, here in the castle.” you say urgently.

“What? How many?” the Morlandian asks.

“No more than ten.” you respond. “I don't think they suspect any of us here, but they intend to ride out to the temple we sacked.”

“Oh, they're with the White Torch?” Corrine asks, connecting the dots quickly. “My blade will be so happy to meet more of their number! Remember how much _fun _we had with them last year?”

“I say we avoid killing them, unless we have to.” you argue. “More deaths will only attract attention.”

“So if you don't want any killing done, and it's too risky for us to fuck, why contact me?” Corinne asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Are those honestly the only two reasons I'd talk to you?” you smirk. “Come Corinne, we're family!”

“Edward, you've experienced me doing both enough to know, nobody does either better.” the magical representation of your cousin says, a wicked grin gracing her lips.

“In truth, I intend to go with them. The leader of the hunters feels a certain camaraderie with me, the fool.” you chuckle. “I'd feel far more comfortable with you watching out for my safety from afar.”

“Cunning, I like it!” Corinne responds eagerly. “Very well dear cousin, I'll watch over you. Though you shan't see hide nor hair of me until my particular skills are needed. Au revoir.”

Just like that, Corinne springs into action and terminates your conference, leaving you to go about the rest of your preparations.

-

You find Robert with his men in the castle courtyard. As they saddle their mounts, you're joined by Solla, Sritti and a few of their warrior women companions.

“Queen Jana personally recommended the ladies before you, Majesty.” Robert says, taking them in with a smile. “I trust they're to your liking?”

“Most definitely.” you say, giving the newly-minded Warmistress and her scout a quick smile.

-

Sharing a saddle with Solla, you and the Beathans depart the castle, advancing towards the thrice-sacked temple through a light snowfall.

“I must say, Your Majesty, I'm surprised to see you along.” Solla mentions, once you're beyond the confines of the town.

“Oh, I just thought I'd see how the White Torch handles these sorts of things. One can never be too careful when it comes to the threat these demonds pose to us all, yes?” you say, struggling to make yourself heard over the constant clash of hooves.

“Clever, Majesty!” Solla responds. “I'd expect nothing less from you, eh?”

“Queen Jana used to say to us, before she was the queen that is.” Sritti interjects, the scout's mount keeping pace with yours. “Forearmed is forewarned.”

“I'm not sure you have that right.” you tell the Beathan, quickly deflating her pride at contributing to the discussion.

-

Several hours later, your party arrives at the temple. Seen from this angle, during the day, it is far less imposing.

“Weapons drawn. Take no chances.” Robert hisses. He and the rest of the White Torch take the lead, pressing cautiously into the temple, axes and swords at the ready, while Solla and Sritti stay close to you. You know full well there's no danger, demonic or otherwise within, just a few ripe White Torchers, but you give the women your best impression of an unblooded, apprehensive southern king as you venture inside.

“Whoever did this was powerful, ruthless.” Robert remarks, dispassionately taking in the bodies of his slain comrades. “There were a group of attackers most likely, but one of their number swung an axe with a certain ferocity.”

Sure enough, you able to make out Roland's macabre handiwork in the dead Beathans. Whether he was wielding his own blade or a commandeered Deanian axe, The Shark had a quite the penchant for dismemberment.

“Looks like we're clear.” the First Flame observes, sheathing his blade. As the demon-hunters set about identifying their fallen comrades, Robert's investigation spills out of the modest wooden structure, where he finds more men, felled by Corinne's expert marksmanship.

“That's funny.” Sritti observes. “Not a lot of cover for an archer out there.”

“Maybe not at ground level.” Robert notes. “But look at the angle of these arrows.”

He traces the downward trajectory at which one of the shafts had entered one of the demon-hunters' neck.

“Someone could shoot from the treetops, and conceal themselves well enough.” the investigator muses.

As you look out at the treeline, from which The Spider had rained down **** not long ago, you feel seen, observed, but not necessarily safer. No doubt Corinne was close at hand.

“I've known Deanians to be capable of a lot of things. Climbing trees? Not so much.” Solla says, taking the whole scene in, her hands on her hips.

“If you can climb a mast, you can climb a tree. ...I can only imagine.” You deflect.

“Aye...” Robert agrees, lost in thought.

The four of you head back inside, making for the inner sanctum. The place, and it's shrines to the four Beathan Spirits, had been utterly defiled. As Roland and his men had advanced, the Beathans had been cut down defending their very religious icons.

“By the Spirits!” Sritti cries out, averting her eyes from the grisly display. “This is pure fookin' butchery!”

“What of the relics?” Robert asks one of his men.

“We cannae find a trace of them, sir.” the demon-hunter is quick to respond.

“And what of the Jewel of the Eternal Lake?” Robert asks, his tone increasing in urgency.

“No sign of that either.”

Everyone present, save for you and Solla, seems utterly crestfallen to hear it.

“Alright people. Let's lay our dead to rest, then get back to the castle.” Robert orders, after a brief pause.

As the Beathans set about doing just that, you limp up to the First Flame's side, eager to ask him some questions.

“What's this Jewel you mentioned?” you say, as casually as you are able. “It sounds like your people hold it dear indeed.”

“You're not wrong.” Robert nods. “They say it was a great sapphire, given to the first king of Beatha by the Lord of the Lake himself, a symbol of their kind's favour with our kingdom's royal line.”

“I would've liked to have seen it.” you say. “I've been intrigued by Beathan culture, ever since King Donald taught me about the Spirits.”

“As would I, Majesty.” Robert says regretfully. “As would I. The thought of it sitting in some unwashed Deanian raider's hull, along with the other plunder, makes my blood boil.”

Nonsense, you couldn't help but think to yourself. This... Jewel was safe in Corinne's cave at the moment.

“A-And do you still suspect demonic involvement in this attack?” you ask. Robert casts one last glance around the temple, then turns to answer you.

“In truth, Majesty? I don't know what to think anymore. Something about this attack, it never sat right with me, and having seen the bodies, the destruction myself, that feeling's not gone away.”

“It has to have been the Deanians, surely?” you suggest. “Why would demons plunder the treasures? From what I hear, those abominations are creatures of carnal delights, not material ones.”

“You make a good point, Majesty.” Robert nods.

“Please, call me Edward.” you stammer.

“To tell you the truth, Edward, perhaps I'm just on edge.” Robert says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know for a fact there are demons at play in Beatha. I've seen their handiwork, undeniably in the capital. After that, you start to see them everywhere, almost. In the corner of your eye, in the flickering of a torch.”

Having heard nothing of the capital from Roland or Corinne, you're keen to press the First Flame, but caution yourself against it. Coming across as too curious would be a poor move indeed.

-

Taking a few hours to prepare and bury the dead, you mount up and make it back to the castle just as the winter sun is sinking below the horizon.

“Your Majesty, it's an honour to make your acquaintance once again!” a familiar voice trills.

As your party returns to the main hall, you find yourself face to face with Rhona. The healer, Kara's cousin and close friend, looks just as good as she did at the Contests a year ago.

You take her hand a kiss it.

“The _pleasure's _all mine.” you tell her. The brunette giggles.

“Sir Robert, how did your search fare?” the healer asks.

“Inconclusive, unfortunately.” the demon-hunter tells his comrade.

“Tell me more over an ale?” Rhona asks. “Your Majesty, you're more than welcome to join us.”

“Perhaps later.” Robert says sombrely. “I've... other business to attend to this evenin'.”

As the First Flame departs, you find yourself alone with Rhona and the warrior women.

“I, on the other hand, make a point of never turning down a drink.” you smile, inviting yourself to sit down. “Care to join us?” you ask, turning back to Solla and Sritti.

The scout looks at her superior eagerly, before the southerner nods her head.

-

“...And so Robert and I ventured up from the capital.” Rhona continues. Though admittedly, you were only half-listening. Instead, you were enjoying the burn of a cold Beathan ale, the drink helping to ameliorate your nerves, and surreptitiously glancing around, wondering which of the three beauties you were drinking with you had the best chance of bedding.

“I am honoured whenever I share the field with members of your order, Lady Rhona.” Solla tells the healer, drinking deeply from her own flagon. “And Spirits know we can always use more healers.”

“Ach, don't I know it.” Rhona says, her voice sounding frayed. “I've spent all day working in field hospitals. I've never seen such savagery.”

“It must be rough.” you assume. “seeing such carnage come to your father's lands.”

“Oh, Eoghan's not my father, Your Majesty, he's my uncle. My maw was Kara and Donald's maw's half-sister.” she clarifies.

“Really, I thought-” you chide yourself inwardly for the error. As a royal yourself, you were usually better at keeping track of genealogies.

“That's one thing about the kingdoms on this continent.” Solla muses, her ale half-drunk. “You're all married to each other! I find it difficult to remember who's related to who and who's in line to what throne.”

“Now you know why so many crowned heads end up marrying their cousins.” Rhona scoffs. Just hearing the Beathan healer mention cousins is enough to **** memories of your night with her back into your mind. The way she and Kara had played together... suddenly, you find yourself needing to seem them at it once again.

“We'll be moving on soon, eh?” Solla mentions, after a brief lull in the conversation, where you and the women drink in a companionable silence. “The Fresgoe Islands. I've never seen them myself.”

“I'm from there originally!” Sritti mentions, excited to have something to contribute.

“Really? Tell me about them.” Solla asks her subordinate.

“Not much to tell, chief.” the gap-toothed scout admits. “There are towns on some of the isles, but for the most part, they're sparsely inhabited. Nothin' like the sort of civilisation we've got on the mainland, that's for sure...”

You can't help but scoff. To your southern sensibilities, the Beathan mainland was something of a cultural wasteland.

“I can see why you do what you do.” Solla thinks. “Were I from such a desolate place, I'd want to explore the world, too.”

“Wow, I never thought of it like that!” Sritti says, her eyebrows raised. “Y'know, I never even left the Isles till I was thirteen. Can you imagine that, thirteen, and I hadn't even-”

As Sritti continues to blather on, you feel a hand squeezing your thigh. Craning your neck, you see Rhona, nestling closer to you.