Check up on Madeleine and Kara.

You leave the nobles to discuss Einar's unexpected appearance, slipping away with Swain to check up on Madeleine.

“Not something you say every day, mmhm?” Swain says, as you make your way through the castle. “A summit conducted via magic. This Einar fellow seems full of surprises. Gods only know what he's up to.”

“The man's insane.” you assert. Still, the magic he had brought into the castle perturbed you. Arvha had told you no one but the Cult possessed the kind of communication magic you employed. Yet here was some Deanian raider using a reasonable facsimile of the same.

“Insane? Very possibly. But one can't deny his effectiveness, majesty.” the bard argues. “He's pushed further into Beatha than any of his forebears, and from what I hear, it's not the only front he's engaged on.”

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, pausing briefly.

“Gaelica, majesty. You must've noticed the raids on Itheria's western shores have slowed to a trickle since Einar's ascension. They're too busy fending the Deanians off, likely as not.”

“You seem very... aware of events across the continent. For a simple bard.” you remark.

“It pays to stay up to date on politics, majesty. Madeleine often seeks my counsel, her father too, once in a blue moon. Besides, I'm still in correspondence with many people from my travels. Information practically falls into my lap.”

“Information like how to operate magical contraptions you've never seen before?” you say sharply.

“Oh, would you look at that, majesty. We're here already!” Swain announces, as you alight on the entrance to Madeleine's quarters.

-

The Sinnabarrovian princess has been placed on a couch, Elodie tending to her as Kara and a nobleman you've never met before look on in concern.

“How is she?” you ask Kara.

“I'm fine, Edward.” Madeleine answers for herself, in a sour tone. Her lady-in-waiting dabs at her eye with some ice wrapped in a cloth. “Just... dizzy, and sore.”

“You should be fine, in time. Just rest.” Kara says, prompting snickers from the Sinnabarrovians.

“That's... not exactly how our lady does things, Your Grace.” Swain smiles.

“Well perhaps it should be, if she doesn't want to gamble her life.” Kara sighs.

Moving sluggishly, Madeleine pushes herself up on her elbows and waves Elodie's ministrations away.

“What's the damage? My face feels... funny.” the princess says hazily.

“There's a little bruising.” the noble with the curious accent admits.

“Baron Gerhard's exaggerating, Excellency, as always. It's barely noticeable.” Swain lies, steepling his fingers.

Madeleine snaps her fingers, and Elodie brings a golden hand mirror in front of the princess' face.

“Take it from someone nearly as pale as you.” Kara notes, as Madeleine examines the black eye already beginning to form around her right cheek and eye. “That shiner's not goin' anywhere for a while.”

“Looks like it's not the only thing that overgrown barbarian gave me...” Madeleine remarks evenly, tracing the edge of the bruise with her forefinger, eventually alighting above her delicately maintained eyebrow.

Hjordis' signet ring had struck Madeleine's forehead hard enough to leave a minute imprint of her seal, a victorious giant, on the heiress' skin.

“Fascinating!” Madeleine remarks. “I didn't think that could actually happen...”

As Madeleine regards herself, Kara glances back at you, with a perplexed expression on her face.

Eventually, you leave to give Madeleine time to regain her bearings.

-

As you, Kara and the nobleman leave Madeleine's quarters, he turns to you, shaking your hand.

“King Edward, it's an honour. Name's Gerhard, Baron Gerhard de Corné.” he remarks, squeezing your hand.

He's an older man, at an indeterminate point in his fifties, though still fit for his age. His lengthy grey hair is swept back, his beard braided, his personal grooming is at odds with the fine Sinnabarrovian cut of his clothing.

“Gerhard and I fought alongside each other in the Fens.” Kara notes. “For a Red, he fights admirably.”

“I was a Deanian long before I was a Red, lass.” Gerhard chuckles. Though you rankle at it inwardly, Kara lets the noble's impertinence slide. Something about the bonds of war, you imagine.

“A Deanian?” you remark, Gerhard's words triggering. “Are you... Sigrun's father, by any chance?”

“Aye, that I am! And how do you come to know my daughter, majesty?” the older man asks.

“I errm... met her in Copieux. Toured her collection with Madeleine.” you tell him, eliding a few details about what you got up to there. You didn't fancy telling a former Deanian raider that sort of thing, no matter your station.

“Ah, grand.” Gerhard smiles.

“Not many of Pierre's lords have followed his daughter to war.” you observe.

“I'm just about the only one of note.” Gerhard says confidently. “Old man's been good to me. Never thought I'd be sittin' pretty as part of the continental nobility, but some things can't go unanswered. Honourless curs like Einar and Hjordis are the reason I abandoned Dean in the first place. Feels damn good to put fuckers like them in the ground, majesty!”

“I appreciate your candour, Baron.” you tell him.

“Keep'a hold of it.” Kara says, clasping him on the shoulder as he bows and makes to leave. “You're gonnae need it.”