Nicolai: Oh Isabel, I’m looking forward to being your husband. But why are you wearing black to our wedding?
Isabel: Foreshadowing your funeral, duh! Let’s hurry so I can be queen.
Archdevil: WHY WEREN’T WE INVITED!? *smash smash*
Nicolai: Back, you cur! Uncle, take Isabel and flee to the summer palace.
Godric: Uh, right.
Nicolai: Foul demon. Your teleporting antics will get you… pushed out a window!
Archdevil: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *thud*
Isabel: The danger is over. Why won’t you let me go back to Nicolai and finish our vows?
Godric: Because we’re now suddenly at war… with the nation of demons. Or wait, they don’t have a nation, do they? Hmm… not sure how that works exactly.
Beatrice: Hello. I’m not creepy at all.
Isabel: You’re acting kind of strange, Beatrice.
Beatrice: Me? Whatever are you talking about? Demon in disguise? Not I! No, milady!
Beatrice: By the way, King Nicolai is in grave danger. So says this letter. Maybe you guys should put yourselves in harm’s way or something. Just saying, is all.
Isabel: Nicolai? We must take action, Godric. Oh, if only I was a warrior queen.
Beatrice: Why was Nicolai so opposed to asking the elves, dwarves, and mages for help? Surely they could help us repel the demon invasion. Uh… not that I care about the politics of the Griffin Empire or anything.
Godric: Here, have an entire history lesson about why we hate them.
Isabel: Godric, please put aside your prejudices and speak with Cyrus! We need his help.
Godric: Okay fine. I’m off. Griffin eternal! *casts random spell*
Beatrice: Let us journey to Irollan and speak with Alaron, the king of the elves. Here, climb into this potato sack and put on these handcuffs. Heh heh.
Isabel: No. You should travel alone. I’m off to make myself a warrior queen!
Beatrice: Curses!
Beatrice: I mean… yes, milady.
Isabel: Attention dirt farmers, I am your new queen and I demand you leave your families and join my army. In return, you will pay taxes, your families will starve, and will most surely die in combat!
Peasants: You ain’t our queen yet. Now get off our land!
Isabel: I am so the queen. Now you die! I will burn your houses to the ground!
Peasants: Ahhhh! Stop it! We’ll be good. We promise.
Isabel: Mwa ha ha ha ha ha! Griffin eternal! *casts random spell*
Squire: My queen. There is a garrison filled with allied troops, we should…
Isabel: …attack them? Great idea!
Squire: I was going to say ‘recruit them.’ Methinks power has gone to her head.
Isabel: Hold on just a little longer, Nicolai. I’m coming to help youuuuuu!