Meeting with Hjordis.

Your small procession files into the shopfront, Madeleine at the very centre, as if she expects you to form ranks around her, should something go amiss.

Contrary to your previous visit, Hjordis is alert and attentive as you enter. She rises from her cot, which seems laughably small for a woman of her stature anyway, and draws closer to the bars.

“Your Excellency.” The Deanian says, quickly singling out Madeleine, and bowing. The half-giantess finds her knees. “That is the correct form of address, yes?”

“It is.” Madeleine says, her speech clipped, bereft of it's usual blithe self-assuredness. You imagine she has even less experience with physical reprisals than you do. “You'd better have a good reason for asking to see me.”

“First and foremost, Your Excellency, I want to offer my most sincere apologies.” Hjordis says, looking up into Madeleine's eyes. “For what I did to you. It was brutish, savage. Unworthy of me.”

As the giantess lays it on nice and thickly for Madeleine, you sense Donald, at your side, biting his tongue. What Hjordis knew was simply too important for him to call her out on her manipulations.

“I would've thought even a Deanian noble would have better self-control.” The red-headed Dauphine's painted lips curl into a scowl. She hangs back, keeping a good several feet more than is necessary between herself and the bars of the cage she herself designed.

“I can only beg your forgiveness, Excellency.” Hjordis says. She's convincing, you have to give her that.

“Well... the physician tells me there should be no lasting damage.” Madeleine sniffs.

“I am glad to hear it, Excellency.” Hjordis says, her head bowed. “I would hate to think I'd deprived your realm of their leader's fullest, most sparkling potential.”

“Sorry?” Madeleine breathes, a confused look playing across her face.

“Sinnabarrow. With you on her throne, I'm sure her future is bright.” Hjordis flatters.

“You didn't speak so highly of Sinnabarrow when first we met.” Madeleine recalls, taking a half-step closer to the cell. “What changed?”

“I thought more on the matter, Excellency. Our two cultures are very different. In Dean, the sword is all. Sinnabarrow's greatness must lie in other areas, I'm sure.”

“Damn right it does!” Madeleine declares. “We're an advanced, modern kingdom. We venerate culture, commerce, exploration, not base thuggery! Not the body, but the mind!”

She presses a finger to her forehead to emphasise her point, letting out a small yelp of discomfort as she unintentionally presses on the imprint of Hjordis' ring still stamped into her brow.

“The prowess of your mind is plain for all to see, Your Excellency.” Hjordis continues. “Indeed, the evidence quite literally surrounds me."

The half-giantess rattles the bars of her cell softly.

“I'm so glad you like your new home.” Madeleine smiles. You sense more genuine appreciation in the curve of Madeleine's red lips than the content of her retort might suggest.

“I wouldn't say I like it, Excellency, but I certainly respect it.” the raider responds. “I know cages. This isn't the first time I've been inside one, either. About ten years ago, before I was Jarl, I ended up in the Duke's jail in the Goldfields. There, the construction and design were so amateur, the bars were so puny, I simply **** them open and made good my escape. Such a thing would be an abject impossibility here.” the Giantess once more raps a powerful hand against the steel of her cage, as if to emphasise her point.

It would seem the effusive praise from Hjordis has gone straight to Madeleine's head. She seems intoxicated on it, her smile toothy now.

“I should like to see Sinnabarrow one day, Your Excellency. Perhaps, after the war, I could be held there?”

“That's a long way off.” Donald interjects. “Besides, don't forget who your jailer is, giantess.”

“Never, Your Grace.” Hjrodis says, turning her head to address the Beathan now. Any warmth and contrition in her voice seems to evaporate when speaking to Donald.

“Such a thing would be up to my father.” Madeleine deflects. “But... I've been known to be able to twist his arm. On certain topics, at the very least. We shall see.”

“I can only hope, Excellency.” Hjordis repeats.

“Well, you got to apologise to the princess, and we're takin' you to honour your father's remains later.” Donald summarises. “How about you cough up a little information, aye?”

“Such as?” Hjordis' rumble rings out, clear and precise, through the makeshift jail.

“Tellin' us about those men he sent the other day would be a start.”

“Part of a number of crews known as the Adders.” Hjordis recalls. “Strong men, those most loyal to the Serpent King, willing to die for him.”

“And die they did. All in the attempt to rescue one prisoner, a mere boy.” you intone.

“One of my lord's peculiarities. He's a sentimentalist. He'll never stop trying to rescue Siggi. Because they're friends.” the giantess spits out that last word, as if the mere concept of friendship is venom in her mouth.

“You can use that against him, you know.”

“We believe in honour in Beatha.” Donald says. “We'll no' use a captured man as bait.”

“Then I believe Einar will win.” Hjordis states plainly. “If you face him in a straight fight, he will overpower you, every time. His magic is too powerful, his fleet too sizeable.”

You sense Hjordis is talking from experience here. Surely in a society as combative as Dean, she had not accepted a mage as her lord lying down?

“There must be some way.” Donald resolves. “No man's invincible.”

“Einar's the most naturally talented mage I've ever met. Ancestors, he's the most talented one I've ever heard of.” Hjordis tells you. “If he truly willed it, I believe he would've already conquered Beatha. But he's prone to... digressions. The war is not the only thing that occupies his mind, you see? He travels the continent, and places beyond, searching for magical items, relics, anything that might give him an edge in his plans for conquest.”

“You must be joking?” Donald asks. “What you say makes no sense. He could already conquer Beatha if he willed it, but he's searching for things to aid in his conquest?”

“With your respect, Your Grace, I didn't specify Beatha.” Hjordis adds with a smile.

“Insanity. Pure fookin' insanity.” Donald curses. “If you're saying Einar has his sights on the entire continent, I simply don't believe it.”

“It doesn't matter what you believe, Beathan. Einar does.” Hjordis warns him. You don't detect any deceit in her words, at least on this.

“If you're willing to tell us all you know about him, his plans.” Donald offers “Perhaps we can see about feedin' you better.”

“I want out of this cage.” Hjordis rebuffs. “I'm not saying anything until I've paid my respects to my father, but once I have, I want to be released.”

“No' gonnae happen.” Donald responds. “Not after all the blood you've spilled.”

“Donald, maybe you should consider it?” Madeleine interjects. “Hjordis is clearly more intelligent than we thought. What she knows could be very valuable.”

Donald refuses to entertain any idea of Hjordis being free to roam the town, to even be allowed outside of her cage, beyond the heavily supervised visit to the warehouse housing her father's skull that afternoon. The two of them argue and negotiate for the better part of an hour, before as a group, you leave Hjordis, venturing out into the town, intending to take another crack at the giantess later.