The invaders are slain, albeit with casualties.

After a few vicious minutes, the Deanians have been cut down, and the Beathan forces, or at least the remaining survivors, stand victorious.

Once it's safe, you descend the battlements, closing the gap to Kara as quickly as you are able.

“A-are you okay?” you ask, as the warrior princess catches her breath.

“Aye.” Kara pants, her blue eyes lighting up as she spies you. She is coated in blood from the furious battle, albeit very little of it is her own. “You'll forgive me if I don't leap into your arms, aye?”

“Of course.” you smirk. As you talk, Beathan troops pick through the battleground, restraining the Deanian survivors, and ensuring the ones who are too wounded to pull through do not suffer. As you take in one such mercy killing, you find yourself musing that you're much more comfortable ordering and conspiring to bring about ****, rather than witnessing it, causing it yourself.

Just when you're considering taking Kara back to the castle, you hear a familiar accented voice calling out.

“Surgeon!” Khaliq cries. “Surgeon! We've got a wounded man... shark, person here!”

The lion cub drags a heavily wounded Roland, aided by several of his men, given your cousin's sheer size. The beastfolk is bleeding profusely, the Allsire's vital essence seeping out onto the earth.><

The Beathans move to assist, you hobble along behind, as Roland and the other wounded are transported to a makeshift field hospital within the town's walls.

Every healer within the coaliton's forces has their hands full with wounded men, both the cutters within the Beathan ranks, and the more practiced healers in the Order of the White Torch.

As Khaliq and his men set Roland down on a table, Bezoriana rushes in.

“What happened tae him?” she says, a mother's concern slipping out from behind her facade.

“War, good Widow.” Robert answers plainly. The Order's Seeking Flame has made it through the sudden battle with only superficial injuries. Now he's helping tend to The Shark, not knowing the sellsword is one of the very “abominations” he's pledged his life to ferreting out and destroying.

“We need to clean his wounds.” Bezoriana announces, rolling up her sleeves and crossing to her son's side. “Someone, fetch some clean water!”

“Here, good lady.” the demonhunter says, taking a skin from his belt and offering it to her.

“What's this?” “Moira” inquires.

“Blessed water, from one of our holy springs. We use it against our demonic quarry, but I'm sure the spirits'll no' mind it being used to save a good warrior's life. Wash his wounds with it, quickly.”

The heavily pregnant demoness hesitates. Evidently, the enchanted water could prove painful to her, and to a lesser extent, you and Roland.

“You shouldn't waste such a rare resource.” Bezoriana equivocates. “I'm uh, sure someone'll be along any second now wi' a bucket.”

Contrary to her statement, Roland is left to bleed for a good couple of minutes, the seconds ticking by in excruciating awkwardness, until a serving girl, pressed into service, arrives on the scene with a bucket of clean, thankfully unblessed water.

The threat to her cover subsided, Bezoriana gets to work saving her son's life. She washes his wounds, binds them with strips of linen.

“I didn't see you on the field.” you say to Robert, as the two of you watch from the sidelines.

“I was there, your majesty. Fighting alongside Roland and his mercenaries. I'd been sharing an ale with them when the Deanians made their attack. We're just fortunate we were on the first round. I'd no' face them raiders three sheets to the wind.”

The immediate threat to Roland's life passes. As his mother continues to fuss over him, you extricate yourself from the situation, going to check on the rest of the wounded.

Out in the town streets, you find Kara co-ordinating the healing efforts, before Madeleine and her entourage approach.

“Kara!” the Red Princess says chummily, drawing close to her Beathan counterpart. “I heard what happened! So awful. But I'm glad you made it through unscathed!”

“Few were so lucky.” Kara says ruefully.

“Benjy assured me whatever threat those vicious barbarians posed has passed, so I thought I'd come and offer my support. Healing's just one of the strings to my bow, as I'm sure you remember.”

“That's er, very kind Madeleine.” Kara grimaces. “But... I think some of this might be beyond your skills.”

“Please! I'd wager I'm at least the equal of any Beathan healer.” Madeleine scoffs.

“Really? Tell me, Maddie, in all your vast experience, how many times have you dealt with a man who's had his guts ripped out his body by a raider's axe?”

“Never, but I think I could grasp... I'm a quick learner..” Madeleine protests, taken aback.

“Aye, you'd have to be quick, to be any help to him.” Kara says flatly. “What about amputations? How many limbs've you hacked off in your dabbling in the surgical arts?”

“None.” Madeleine blanches. She screws her face up, evidently not used to meeting with so much resistance. “But I just want to help!”

“Then maybe find a better time to indulge in your delusions of being a healer, yeah?” Kara tells her.

“You're being unfair. Not to mention disrespectful.” Madeleine says, her voice wavering.

“No, I'm bein' realistic. You can't handle that, go back to your little experiments.” Kara says.

There's a brief lull in the conversation. Swain looks about ready to interject, to smooth over some of the tensions between the two women, when Madeleine raises a hand, dabbing at her heavily bruised eye with the other.

“Very well. You... may have a point, Kara. But I can still do some good, I'm sure.” Madeleine reasons. “Just tell me what I need do.”

“Fine.” Kara says, begrudging respect for the princess creeping into her voice. “The building two doors down from the tavern. You'll find a healer by the name of Rhona. She can use all the help she can get patching up our warriors.”

“On it!” Madeleine says, making for her assigned station.

“W-well played.” you say to your wife, as the two of you are briefly left alone.

“I'm not about to be scared of Maddie.” Kara smirks.

“Well that makes one of us.” you respond, eliciting a giggle from the redhead.

“She'd be better off, I think. Had more people put their foot down wi' her.” Kara muses, before departing to help out her people.