The Isle.

As the coalition forces set about clearing the traces of Deanian presence from the castle, preparing it to be occupied once again, as well as readying tonight's victory celebrations, you're taken aside by Donald and Kara.

"Did you see the island on the lake, Edward?" Donald asks you. "There's a personal matter out there we've gotta attend to."

"I would... appreciate your being there, love." the princess admits, holding your arm affectionately.

"O-of course." you tell the siblings.

-

You leave for the island not long afterwards. Passing through the castle gardens, you make your way to the water's edge. It's a small group now, just you, Donald and Kara, their uncle, Jana and Solla.

At a small outbuilding, a group of men prepare a modest-sized sailboat to take you to the island.

“O-one of you will have to come in after me, should I fall in.” you remark, a touch of nervousness creeping into your voice as you step aboard the vessel. “I er, never learned to swim.”

You wouldn't be the first royal to be lost to cruel indifference of water, you think to yourself. Madeleine could vouch for that.

“Ach, Edward, I'm afraid that wouldn't help.” Donald smirks. “Squid'd get tae you, long before any of us would.”

Taking a seat near Solla, Kara frowns at her brother and liege's grim joke.

Casting off, you make for the centre of the lake. As you draw closer to it, the ethereal nature of the place only becomes more apparent. Winter's beginning, but from the thicket of trees, their leaves in full bloom, you'd never know. It's like you're sailing from one season into another.

Alighting on a small jetty, the sailors tie the boat up and your party goes ashore.

“Strange being back here.” Donald remarks to his sister. “We must've been what, ten summers?”

“Thereabouts.” the princess responds. “Never quite occurred tae me, just how blessed this place is.”

Stooping, Kara observes the ground just off the path. It's not just the trees, the grass is healthy, flowers are in bloom.

“They say the Lord of Lakes favours islands like these.” Eoghan explains to you. “Blesses them with eternal summer.”

Once, you might've dismissed these rumours as myth, or an incorrect understanding of magical phenomena, Now however, you were painfully aware of the awesome power the Spirits of Beatha had at their disposal.

“We should check the way is clear.” Solla says, drawing her blade and advancing down the path, further into the forest. You suddenly find yourself sweating under your cloak.

The warrior's instincts turn out to be correct. Up ahead, your party encounter a group of Deanian soldiers, similar in size to yours. Presumably, Siggi had stationed them on the isle on the off-chance the Beathan army had tried to access the isle.

“Peace, lads!” Donald calls out, holding a hand up to the raiders. “Your jarl is in chains. Why throw your lives away for naught?”

There's the briefest of pauses, before the Deanians draw their swords and charge forwards, evidently having decided to do exactly that.

You draw back a little as the five Beathans draw their weapons. They cut the Deanians down with little effort. Clearly, posted to a seemingly unoccupied isle during a battle, these were not Siggi's finest fighters.

“Ach!” Donald curses, wiping the head of his waraxe. “There must be somethin' about growing up in Dean that makes folk hardheaded.”

“Would you have surrendered, love?” Jana asks.

“Suppose not.” Donald remarks. “They did die on their feet, you have to give them that.”

“We're wasting time, nephew.” Eoghan remarks. “We should do this while there's still a sun in the sky.”

“'course uncle.” Donald responds.

Donald and Eoghan double back to the boat, while you and the women continue onwards. Luckily, you seem to have seen the last of the invaders, as you advance to the innermost part of the isle with little difficulty.

In the midst of a clearing, you spot a modestly-sized structure of carved stones. Too small to accommodate people, as Kara and Jana pull open the iron gates, you quickly ascertain its true function.

“The Carran family crypt.” Kara remarks to you. “Our maw was laid to rest here, as per her wishes. And our father's last request was to be with her in ****.

The smell of dust and **** faintly assaults your nose as you venture in alongside the Beathan women. As you do, you see ornate decorations, silver, valuables, as well as occupants, laid to rest with jewels and weapons.

“T-thank the gods the Deanians didn't find this place.” you slur. “Doubtless they'd have plundered it all.”

“I'm sure they did find it, your majesty.” Jana remarks.

“Aye, the crypt's no secret tae the townsfolk.” Kara agrees. “At least one of them will have told Siggi, wi' all the vileness he's capable of.”

“I don't understand. If the Deanians found this place, why isn't it plundered?”

“The sanctity o' the dead is one o' the few taboos those raiders respect.” Jana remarks, the newly-crowned queen casting an eye around. “They hold their ancestors dear, and apply the same veneration tae any such sites. Crypts, mausoleums, graveyards, they're all off limits.”

“I... hadn't heard this before.” you note.

“It's true. Deanians venerate no spirits, worship no gods. No, they honour the black-hearted bastards who **** and murdered before them.” Kara explains.

“They'd slaughter a whole town but leave off a few grave sites?” Solla shakes her head. “I'll never understand it.”

-

Not long after, Donald and Eoghan return, bearing a simple oak casket, retrieved from the hold of the sailboat. Inside is the shrouded body of Coinneach, the former king, and the siblings' father. You watch on respectfully as the Beathans lay their deceased ruler to rest, Donald leading them on in a short prayer to the Spirits.