The church's clean-up and report

In your view, the battle hadn't ended in any way that could be called "successful." The so-called dark saintess had proven her superiority over your team, for now. With this in mind, it felt especially unfitting that the wine donation ceremony, which Mertz had intended as a way to contaminate the people of the checkpoint's church, was now being converted into a victory celebration for you and your saintesses... Thankfully, with **** sourced elsewhere, outside of the winery.

The winery's owner, Jules Wiseman, was an elderly gentleman with a balding pate and a drooping mustache, very tall and with the air of one who thought himself one of the nobility, despite living far, far away from the money of the royal capital or any of the major cities. The winery had evidently been quite profitable for him, and yet, he had a big smile on his face as he spoke to the authorities from the royal army. Perhaps that was the only safe expression for him to wear in a situation like this. He was **** to be cooperative, yielding, and truthful, to show that he had no part or knowledge in any of the tainted wine. To that end, he was giving up all sorts of foul business dealings. Off-the-books deals and shady accounting would mean jail time. A part in the conspiracy to hand over this checkpoint to the demons or harm its people would result in, at best, being handed over to modern-day inquisitors and, at worst, being beheaded.

"Oh yes, the Mertz fellow, we worked hand-in-hand, but, shall I say, not too hand-in-hand? Yes, a business-like distance between the two of us. Oh, no no, I knew nothing of demons! Of a dark saintess? No, I never would have allowed it! Well... Well yes, I did know about coverups and extortion and robbery and-and strong arm tactics and all that bully business, but but but, you must believe me, I never conceived Mertz belonged to the demons! Honest! I just thought he was, eh, you know, regular old bad, not bad bad!"

The **** from the royal capital was led by a real hard-ass and you didn't at all envy the man for having to make his plea to her. She was a slender beauty by the name of Isolt, also called the Lord Herald, known for her no-nonsense leadership of the royal knights. Well... supposedly, to hear some say it, there had been some nonsense when she'd made a visit to the town of Merridan nearly six years ago, but it was dangerous to speak of such things. The smear campaign against her had become a hotly debated topic throughout all parts of the kingdom and picking the wrong side of it was likely to put you into an old-fashioned tavern brawl. Whatever the case, it didn't seem to have affected her position in the army, but it was said she'd sworn never to set foot in Merridan again. These days, that led her to be somewhat more active in the town of Missionaire. As a young squire, you'd been a bit smitten with her: her long, black hair, tantalizing skirt of purple silk, and shapely legs in silver armor, had all appealed to you.

Now, you saw that she was as bitter as the rumors said. She ordered two knights to seize the man with a simple flick of her wrist, then turned her back on him. "You're as guilty of demon friendship as a blood doctor working outside a vampire's castle, I'd say. I hardly see the need for an inquisition, but you shall face the council back at the capital. I recommend silence, for now, lest you dig yourself deeper," she warned him, keeping her sinister red eyes upon you rather than Wiseman himself. As he was dragged away, she came to meet you instead. "I'm told you're a rookie who helped the saintesses here stop the plot of Dame Nil Riiche..."

You were worried for a moment that she wasn't buying a word of the story, with no physical evidence of Nil left to hang on to. The evidence only pointed to Mertz, not her. Thankfully, it seemed Isolt's face was just naturally dubious-- her frown was not an indicator of additional suspicion, in this case. "We'd have preferred she be apprehended, but at least she can't run back where she was. You see, Nil Riiche was indeed once an active noblewoman of the royal capital. She'd been missing there for some time. Word of her activities here at the checkpoint had not yet reached us... Though, even if they had, we may not have dispatched in time, given the confusion around the situation. You have our gratitude, and that of the community's leaders." She gave you a short bow, then crossed her arms beneath her breastplate.

"But I need you to forget what you heard about 'dark saintesses' and with Geod as our witness, you must swear not to spread such talk among the commoners."

You raised your eyebrow. This seemed like the type of thing people needed to know with all due speed.

"We have no one's testimony to confirm any of that nonsense besides that of a demon-friend. That is all Nil Riiche is-- a talented sorceress, gone mad with demon friendship," Isolt repeated, narrowing her eyes seriously. "If you tell such a tale in the wrong company, we may face a failure in all of the trust Missionaire has built up. In the prophecy. In the saintesses. In the church. In short, there will be many parts panic and no parts good. Do you understand, squire?" she questioned, placing one hand on her hip and tilting her chin up. "You may continue to investigate Nil Riiche, and I encourage you to do so, but do not speak her heresy, even as theory or rumor, or it will be the new inquisition you answer to."

Her command didn't feel right, but she was the representative of the royal army here. In Merridan, the church and town each had a sort of self-autonomy, but in Missionaire, you were still beholden to the crown. You had **** but to abide her decision and promise not to spread any word of what you'd learned about a demon prophecy or dark saintesses.

The party carried into the night, spreading further throughout the checkpoint, so that even those living low had a chance to taste the spirits and be merry. If there was one positive outcome from all of this, it was the removal of Mertz and his corrupt guards. The royal capital was sending replacement soldiers who would be more than adequate for securing this place. Tolls would be returning to a sane and realistic value. Women through the checkpoint would no longer be molested, simple pilgrims would not be driven to debt and poverty, and this place could function as it was originally intended: a barricade to dissuade the forces of the demon lord's army.

You decided to check in with the saintesses, to see how things had turned out in their estimation.