The convention's outcome is acceptable. It is neither excessively Mephistophelean nor excessively demagoguery, agreements will be made Lawfully and held, and Anna Tomas returns to Citadel Ordeial with a general feeling of time not wasted, which was about the best she expected from this.

Lictor Lesheir has already heard that it would be wise not to remain an order of 'hellknights', or be quite so consistent in their symbology. They rehash past arguments - not just the two of them, but most of the paralictors and paravicars - about changes of armor and doctrine, with more urgency, and consider what names they might take on.

Three years later, their leaders present themselves to the Queen as the Forest Wardens. Still in steel, for the most part, but with tabards and leather patterned to disappear into the background in a forest. They keep the pikes.

The war changed little of Anna's day to day, and neither does the present. She trains armigers. She patrols the edge of the forest. She gets called to serious infestations, and sometimes brought quickly by a powerful signifer. She speaks to the villagers near the edge, and accepts their thanks and praise and hoped-for blessings, and these days it's mostly in the name of Erastil, but it wasn't like Erastil's name wasn't in their thoughts before.

For another twelve years she fights to keep the fiends and corrupted creatures and regular wandering monsters of the Whisperwood contained in their borders, and trains the recruits. Those are more abundant than they once were, whether because the name of Hell is gone or because she made a good impression on some nobility or because of Erastil or something else entirely. She's slowing down, in her age, but while her Lictor gives her the choice to retire or stick to training duties she won't hear of it.

And then one week she's called in for an 'oversized Barbazu and a dozen normal ones', and - curse the scout's name - it's actually a mutant, maddened ferrugon, and her armor fails her, and she doesn't quite readjust her tactics fast enough. She brings it down and protects most of her squad but finds herself in Pharasma's Court.

The devil makes a cunning argument for her soul, but so does the archon of the Summerlands. She fought devils, most of her life, mad ones not serving Asmodeus but devils still. She never quite turned a blind eye to illegal Erastil worship but she gave warnings of what, exactly, she would have to report so she wouldn't need to. Given political power, she used it toward the goal of protecting the farmlands rather than advantaging herself or her order.

She is nervous, waiting on her trial, but Hell loses the debate, and she ends in Axis, hale and strong again and able to volunteer for defending a new frontier, using marvelous weapons of a golden age to hold back the Maelstrom. She is content.