Maxwell Hendrickson—one of numerous Knight-Captains within the Britonian army.

Yet this far out in the country, within the thin walls of Berrios, there were few who could best him. Unfortunately, he was sitting across from just one such man.

"Gah! Damn it Alf, you must have too much time on your hands if you can get this skilled at King's March."

"Are you sure it isn't just old age setting in and rusting your skills, friend?"

Hendrickson clucked his tongue in displeasure. Board games never were his strong point. He much preferred the good ol' reliable 'sword and board' instead.

The morning after he'd spoken to Rozalin, Hendrickson decided to pay his friend a visit to inquire a few things and report information. Namely, he was visiting Alphonse Biron. While they were waiting for breakfast and tea to be made, Alphonse had suggested they play a quick game. Hendrickson was convinced his friend just wanted something to gloat about later.

One of the attendants brought out a tray lined with a small variety of meats and vegetables, along with an omelette made from quail eggs. It would appear their discussion was to be had over a meal.

"So what brings you by today, Max?"

"A few things really, but where to start ..."

After a bit of explaining what had happened last night, Hendrickson continued.

"So she asked to set up a time that was convenient, but I still can't get a handle on her. I don't think she means ill. Can't figure out what she is or where she came from though."

With a deep sigh, the knight sipped his tea. Alphonse sat there contemplating and reviewing what had been relayed.

"Sorry I couldn't figure out more, Alf. I'll tell ya, was like picking leaves off a mandragora, that woman! So prickly!"

The two let out a short chuckle before Hendrickson continued.

"Narrowing things down though ... unless I've overlooked something, or she's got more guile than I thought, my gut says she's probably a devil."

Alphonse frowned, "Truly? The basis for that?"

"Well, the elven lass that accompanies them basically confirmed that Rozalin isn't a beastkin or elf. I'd made a suggestion of the matter and her incredulous reaction put that thought to rest. She damn well ain't human, that much I can tell. Pretty much admitted to that herself."

"So she isn't any of the enlightened races then, most surely."

"Aye," sighed the knight, "Unless you've heard of a dwarf with a build like that. Hah!"

After a mutual chuckle and pause, he continued.

"I'd pegged her as one of those blood-fiends who was enthralling the two, but that notion was dispelled last night. Between her loving the garlic in the food, lacking fangs, and exposure to the evening sun? Could still be a variant I haven't heard of, but that doesn't seem to be the case."

Alphonse frowned, "I can still think of a few other possibilities, as I'm sure you have."

"Mm, there's still a werehume, skin-walker, or doppelganger. The tableware used was silver though, so I doubt the former. I even broke out some illusion-dispelling incense just to make sure she wasn't messing with my eyes. I haven't crossed the latter two off entirely, but that just begs the question of why she's walking around with those wrappings then. Both of those can imitate a human perfectly, so there's no reason to do so other than misdirection."

"She could be much craftier than we think," replied Biron.

"True, but the one thing that really struck me was something she said. Seemed to have a fixation on promises and rules. You follow?"

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"Mm, that would certainly fit. Still, a devil that is capable of healing magic? Won't the ruse be given away the moment she's unable to heal my poor Aryana?"

At this, Biron frowned deeply, creases appearing upon his brow. Hendrickson gave off a throaty grunt in agreement.

"Ye'd think so, but it's not like there's a ton of information on devils. If she's usin' some weird blood magic, it could perhaps look like healing magic. Skin-walkers can't use healing magic by nature, so that'd eliminate one guess. None of that answers the question of why a devil'd be here though. Doesn't seem to be all that old either—at least a bit less experienced than us."

"Judging by your earlier information and your 'duel' with her, I'm inclined to agree. Devils are supposed to hate losing bets, so I can't imagine she was hiding much strength. Not impossible though. Shouldn't there have been a summoner involved? Unless whoever brought her to this plane was consumed by her ..."

The two men went quiet, both reclining in their chairs deep in thought. A few more ideas were bounced between them.

Alphonse sighed.

"Hmm. Ice and healing magic, uses poison, apparently capable of close-quarters combat. Says she suffered some burns, too, which should be a doppelganger's weakness. If only she used fire magic, that truly would fit the description of a devil."

"I doubt I'll be able to figure out anything else in the coming days," Hendrickson replied, "My best bet is still either some variant devil or an exceptionally crafty doppelganger. Her disposition doesn't seem bad either way, which is bizarre in itself. I wouldn't call her good-natured, but impartial's less of a stretch. If only I'd had some holy water, I could've slipped it in her drink ..."

The two paused again.

"Max, perhaps she is a runaway demon slave? If she inherited some devil's blood, that'd explain how she got over to this continent and an adherence to rules. Might even explain using ice magic, depending on the type of demon and upbringing."

Hendrickson gave a small shrug and grunt in affirmation.

"Alf, there's one more thing I wanted to discuss. I don't have any evidence, but ... my gut says that this Rozalin woman might be involved with that Dungeon matter from months back."

"Truly?" said Biron, more than a trace of surprise in his voice.

"Aye. Just a hunch, though."

Alphonse frowned for a moment.

"Max, if that's indeed the case then I don't believe we'll have much to fear. Allow me to make some preparations. Tell this Rozalin two days from now, around the third bell. I'll speak to Aryana and my men."

"Just be careful, Alf. If she truly is a devil, then I'm unsure if angering her is wise. If she means well—Gods imagine that—then perhaps it's best to just let things lie and go about our business. No sense sticking out yer neck or riskin' Aryana's well-being. I'm seriously thinking you should just let it go, if the woman doesn't try anything."

"That's certainly an option, though I won't leave Aryana or myself defenseless. We've no proof this Rozalin has done anything wrong or isn't human. ... I suppose how things play out will largely be up to her."

Hendrickson's eyes lit up.

"You just reminded me. She mentioned having encountered a group of bandits and saving a few women and children. Apparently she slew the bandits, but putting that aside ... If some women had returned to town, questioning them might reveal more information."

Biron's brow furrowed.

"Not a bad idea. I can't say I've heard any news, but investigating such a thing would be entirely within your jurisdiction. I'll put a few nets out as well. If the women were low-born commoners, getting information might be near-impossible in this town, but if that isn't the case or if missing person reports were filed, or bounties, then ..."

Hendrickson stood, to which Biron followed suit.

"I doubt I'll find anything in a day or two's time, but I'll keep you posted. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go follow this lead."

"I appreciate you looking into this matter for me, Max. If there's anything I can do, just let me know."

The Knight-Captain waved his hand.

"Don't worry about it. Part of my job, after all."

After a few chuckles, the men's conversation soon ceased. Hendrickson was escorted to the main gates and made his way back toward the barracks. After a bit of walking, he turned toward the blue-sky, clenching his hand with a frown on his face.

'Where'd ya come from, Rozalin? And what exactly are ya truly after?'

With a shake of his head, his pace soon resumed. There was still much to do today.

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Half a mile away, barricaded within a certain hotel room, a slime woman was flesh-deep within her shape-shifting studies. A tingle spread to the newest of her experimental appendages. After much investigating and intense inspecting of Amalia's face, she'd made another breakthrough.

"Achoo!"

A monstrous grin spread on her mouth, as she began to cackle.

"Ahahahah! I've done it! Finally, I can smell again!"

With certain conversations still largely unknown to her, Rozalin could only feel that today was a small victory. She'd finally created what she dubbed 'specialized slime neurons'. Soon after, she discovered that having a nose—one based off a beastkin, no less—amidst alchemical reagents and a somewhat dusty inn was entirely not preferable. Said nose and olfactory cells were quickly flattened and erased, followed by much cursing.