Tristan nods. "That makes sense. My fear is that if we meet it before we understand the problem, it will not let us observe it, ending in bloodshed. I had thought - if it is a place it cannot go back to, it is a place we cannot find by following it. We could look for where it cannot be, but could have been? Perhaps where a new mineshaft has been cut? Or a dam has formed in an inconvenient place?"

To observe without being observed is an unforgiving art: A thousand rights are undone by a single wrong. Tristan's more hesitant about that single point of failure than he is about the thing itself.

A cross of gold. Robena's mind turns a darker way. A lot of crosses of gold in the guts of the dragon-boats - if not atop the hoards of dragons proper. It hung from her neck like a stone and she wondered why Xristos' blood could not be caught with the wooden cup of a carpenter than the jewels and ornaments that accumulated too easily in the hands of priests. The sin of striking a holy woman was deep enough that it seemed uncharitable to tempt wayward hands into it with wealth.

A melancholy cloud passes over her even as Summer is welcomed unto the earth. Perhaps this is a land where such things are unthinkable and all the knights are true. A scent on the breeze like rotting flesh tells her this is not so.

"Mm," she demurs to the priestess' question. A strange one. Who wouldn't know Constance river-blessed? Who did this priestess take her for? This question indicated that she knew Robena not at all, and yet asked this stranger about her relation to another. To what end? She opted to answer with an enigma in turn. "And you know the Azure Knight?"

"Until we know where it is, there is always a chance we'll run into it by pure chance before we're ready, or that it will find us before we find it, no matter where we go or what we do," Nin says. "That's why it's best to start by finding where it is; only then can you avoid running into it by accident. If you're worried about bloodshed, should it catch wind of us or should we fall right on top of it by accident, we can always retreat rather than fight."

"And even if it is as you suspect, that it can't go back to where it came from, that don't mean we can't follow the trail it left back to its source. Or at least it will help us narrow our search."

Nin and Tristan

This is Nin's truest specialty: Striking out on the road for a journey. She possesses many options for finding her way, both by mundane roads and the smallest trail and by the more spiritual. Tristan, you are most empowered to learn when you encounter the beast, but Nin will get you where you're going and though there is time aplenty on the road to plan, it is time now to strike out.

Talk as much as you wish, and when you're ready, Nin tell us how you find whatever of the beast you're seeking. I don't know precisely where it will be until you tell me how you find it, but I can tell you that it will be in the fields, with their tall golden wheat that still grows strong and proud. Even if the land is dryer and the seeds smaller than in past years, even if the treeline looms darkly not far away, the place where you find it somehow or other will be in the fields, in the tall grasses, the open sky and small clouds high and away above you.

But that is all I know for now.

Robena

The priestess Cerwen turns to you with some hesitation. She clearly does not wish to talk about the Azure knight. "I know of her" she says slowly, selecting the words for that sentence with caution as Constance begins the proper ritual. "I would not fain speak of it to her opponent though" she adds hastily, obviously searching for some reason to avoid this discussion. "Surely, you wish a fair and honorable contest and ought to ask her yourself of her background when you meet her? Though if you are afraid that she is now in the service of the Duchess, you need not worry there. The Azure knight is a knight-errant and will not be here long after the tournament, I should think. Would you wish my favor for your match, God is a regal ally." She laughs nervously, confident that she's thrown you off the trail and changes the subject immediately. "Perhaps you ought ask the Lady of the Low if she might make my temporary gift more permanent. It was a present from the Duchess for my service and of no small value."

She seems shockingly confident in her position to discuss the Duchess that way. Careful for her part, but utterly confident here, and therefore it's all the more strange that she doesn't want to discuss the Azure knight. You know enough about tournament rules that unless much has changed since you were gone, there's nothing wrong with asking about your opponent as long as you're not trying to gain an advantage on them. Perhaps Cerwen does have some sort of insider knowledge that she's afraid to reveal though.

You might seek to win her as an ally, or accept what she offers as it stands, or reject her for misunderstanding you perhaps. No matter what you choose, tell us after of your tournament preparations, and Apricot's regalia for the competition.

Constance

Let me tell you what you do not feel. You do not feel the world turn wrong ways around and hurl you from it. You do not feel the earth crack and shudder in rage. You do not feel angry clouds gather to block the sun nor hear the cries of birds forced from their perches in fright. You have not done wrong and the world has not rebuked your efforts. As to whether you have done right, you can judge from the shining eyes and sticky hands of the children, who are alive and as well as can be here today, and the pile of gifts that Robena is going to have to set somewhere so she can go and be in a tournament and win glory for her Lady Marianne.

Tell us why you nevertheless feel discontent and what remains on your mind for the afternoon. Will you watch the tournament?

There is certainly something amiss with this priestess, Robena decides. She hasn't been insulted before in such a strange way. The priestess has implied that she was dishonourable for even asking after her opponent before a match! She then advised her to beg Constance for use of one of her sacrifices as though she was powerless to intercede with Xristos without it. And in the same breath to speak in such a mercenary way about its value! She narrows her eyes askance at the woman, wondering if she is perhaps a faerie impersonating a priestess for some arcane trick. More likely she is merely dealing with a chatterbox with very strange opinions.

"I already possess a crucifix, mater," said Robena steadily. "Moreover one that was cast in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, as I am newly returned from the holy land. That should be sufficient for the new ways, but for the old I intend to ask Constance for a favour to bear into battle. You need not feel bound to these, ah, new customs of knightly secrecy when it comes to either of these facts."

And that indeed is the first matter of tournament preparation - to go down on bended knee before Lady Constance and request from her a favour for the tournament and offer to fight in her name. It would be a poor knight indeed who took to the lists without a maiden's kerchief to protect her. Robena herself has sat out a handful of tournaments when she could find no lady willing to sponsor her before the bouts. Some kingdoms consider her caution mere superstition, but she has not fallen from the saddle yet.

Apricot's regalia and her colours, however, are as faded from dust and rain as they have ever been. Robena has done what she could to polish her armour but she lacks coin and squire both, and so will have to ride dressed in the weathered and faded colours that unite all knights of the road.

Tristan agrees with Nin's case and defers to their expertise and judgement. However we find the thing, now, will be done without dissent.

I'll also leave it up to Nin's judgement whether Tristan takes his polearm or not: It's big, cumbersome, and it shouldn't be needed for an exploratory mission. He'll have his much lighter knife and bow either way. It's Nin's decision on whether they are planning for a fight, or planning to avoid it.

Yes, Constance, why do you still feel discontent? Could it be that you have not performed a miracle, like the wild and hoary fey in the days before men came to the Isle? Could it be that faith is a heavy yoke, and heaviest on those who labor without a sign?

That is why you slip away from the crowd after permitting the winsome knight to carry your scarf and enter the keep for a moment, accepting a drink in the cool and the dark. You are welcome here. And it is here you rest your forehead against cold stone and ask for a sign. Some sign that Lostwithiel will be safe under your care.

Outside, through the window, the tournament banners stream. It will be unusual for you to arrive late, but if you go right now, as you are, you will rise from your seat and march up and down the aisles like a madwoman, snapping nervously at sky and earth alike.

You seek the Otherworld, but roll a 5.

Nin only plans to locate the creature, observe it safely, and then follow its trail back to its source, although that last step depends on what they learn from observing it. "You can bring the polearm if you like," she adds as a final advice before they strike out, "but just know that, if it comes to us being chased by a monster, I'll be running faster than you." Brutal honesty, although she doesn't seem like the type to leave people behind, so maybe she doesn't mean it too seriously.

The obvious place to start are the places where attacks have happened, according to the people they've talked to. Most monsters don't spend much thought or effort on hiding their tracks, if the concept even occurs to them, and even if some has been obscured by effort or simply by weather and time, Nin is an expert at picking up even small clues left behind.

The way is winding, bringing them from clue to clue down narrow and twisting paths, but there's not much doubt that they're on the right trail from the first moment, and Nin is careful not to let their prey catch wind of them as they sneak up on it.

*

Wary: 4+3+2 = 9

They find their way at once, without much casting about for it.
The way is direct, with little meandering or backtracking.
The way is safe, and does not bring them near their enemies.

Nin and Tristan

You make your way first along the roads. It's an easy walk, the sun is shining and perhaps a little too hot, but the fields are waves of golden wheat and it's a beautiful day. You pass a few late stragglers coming into town who wave and greet you warmly. This is a land and a people that ought to be prosperous and strong and you can feel that easily as you make your way down the road.

The first big turning is what's left of an overturned cart. It's not exactly hard to find, more like you can't miss it, but there's a big furrow in the grain leading out from it, so you have to cut into the fields there and trek through the stalks. They're not so thick here, you cut through this field for perhaps 15 minutes and come out the other side, where Nin has to stop and examine some fallow ground where the movement of the beast is still present but less obvious.

The second is when you realize that it cut back through another field and that it has been wending its way back and forth. Sometimes you come out into open space that might transition you into the forests if you were to hike for a few minutes, but every time it cuts back into the fields again.

After your third cutback, it's becoming increasingly obvious that this is going to take a while and the sun is already starting to dip towards the horizon. Gnats and little biting insects are beginning to come out as the sun moves towards twilight, and its as the horizon bathes the field in a grim red that you finally come upon the beast.

The beast seems to be a sort of giant...badger, more or less? You spot it just on the edge of a wheat field, chewing absent-minded on a few stalks almost as though it's cleaning its teeth. You're still in the field yourself and can hide easily, but it's visible from the crushed trail it has once again left. Its got to be ten times the size of a regular badger, with a body that isn't quite the same, broad hulking shoulders that make it look like it can stand on two legs and loom. But it's definitely got the right claws and there's a large fur strike along its back and the top of its head that, along with the shape of the snout puts you strongly in mind of a truly gigantic badger.

Tristan, this is close enough that you may consider yourself as encountering something unnatural and let fate see what insight comes to you, should you wish.

Constance

The ring of steel upon steel resounds through your ears! You lift your head from the cold stone, find yourself standing in the same narrow hallway, but before you at the corridor are a handful of knights arrayed in their armor and with shields held high. Before them, a vast number, a tide they cannot possibly stop though they will break and drown before they give an inch of ground. The defenders before you are arrayed in the forest green of Lostwithiel, the tabards over their mail emblazoned with white unicorns, the elite guard of the Duchess Marianne. The attackers are wearing black tabards with the silver dragon rampant upon them, the colors of King Uther Pendragon.

You hear a sudden sound behind you. The sword that you bear as your birthright is no longer yours! Down the hallway races a flamboyant fae not unlike yourself, his shoulder-length hair loose and flying behind him, wearing a cloak in black and silver, Uther's colors. Merlin, you know somehow, carrying your sword away from you, but for what reason you cannot divine.

You lean your head upon the stone in despair, and there is silence. When you lift it again, you are as you were, the hallway is empty, the distant sounds of the crowd barely reach you through these cool stones.

You'll be arriving to the tournament late, tell us how you make your embarrassed entrance to the seat of honor that the Duchess reserved for you at her right hand.

Robena

The tournament will take place on the green within the keep. Stands have been set up with great cloth banners above them. The Duchess Marianne sits at a place of honor. She is arrayed in a flowing dress of white linen with wide shoulders and a carefully embroidered set of delicate flowers all about the neckline. Her blond hair is styled high and she wears a small tiara studded with diamonds to mark her station. Her master of arms sits at her left, a dour young man with dark hair and a thick black beard that seems to be there to try and make him look older but instead makes him look to be drowning. Cerwen sits two seats down on her right and waives to you with a smile for all her oddness before. The seat for Constance at the Duchess' right hand is empty for the time being.

The Azure knight lives up to her name. Her tabard is a color just a shade deeper than the sky, and so too her saddle and her horse's blanket. Beneath it, she wears polished mail. It's obvious that she has maintained it with great care after her arrival from the road. Yet, there is something wrong, something deeply off about her nature. Her helm is closed and the visor is down even in her preparations and you can see naught of her face or hair. And around her there is an air of darkness. You might wonder whether her tabard truly is a different color than the sky or if it is merely the presence of the woman bringing it down. Where she steps upon the grass of the tournament grounds, it looks as though it wilts and will not spring back.

She ought to introduce herself as you begin the match, or at least to wait and hear your introduction. But whatever you do or say, it is as though she cannot hear you, so still is she as she sits upon her black destrier and awaits the signal for the first joust. You would think her frozen in time, save for the small white handkerchief at her waist with a golden cross upon it, fluttering in the breeze.

[The Azure knight has denied you your right to be known by your reputation though she ought to have heard of you because her curse prevents her from truly hearing or seeing you. Tell us how Robena reacts and then prepare to engage in single combat.]

Ah. That scent.

This is not something to joust. This is something to rescue... or something to hunt.

She has seen horrors before. In the savage land of the Balkans the woods shivered at the passage of bats that walked like men. In the valleys of the Alps princesses grew fur and took up the aspects of beasts. In the holy land itself she had encountered one who had perhaps been the Prosecutor of God. A curse ran through the world that made the human form fall away, making the exterior as bestial as the interior. A nightmare that echoed time and again saw her indistinguishable from her cloak. She wore it regardless, even as half-memories of ursine talons overlaid her hands.

What quest or trial had gone so awry for this knight that she would emanate that scent of magic? What truth that couldn't be concealed within flesh was now being concealed within metal? Was this the destiny of knights? Scales and fur and savage instinct?

The words didn't come easily. Despite the music of her voice she could go days without speaking on the road. But this was different. This was her home, this was her peer. She would not go through this bout as some silent and landless vagabond. She would be known, and she would be known by any rising monster or fallen knight for her skill in defending this home.

"You ride against Robena Coilleghille," she declared, striking her lance against her shield. "Who fights for the honour of lady Constance Nim. You ride against one who has seen both horror and temptation and emerged scarred but victorious. You ride against one who can smell the curse that weighs upon it and would lift it from you. You may not know me as a hero and saviour, but I vow before the River and the Bloodless One that I shall not rest until you can once again show your face in the light. I shall unhorse you in the joust, overcome you in the melee, and best you in the contest of hearts until you are worthy of that kerchief you wear and bring no more suffering to the one who granted it to you. You who know nothing shall be made to know me, such I vow."

She lowered her visor and set her lance. Come then. Set your strength against the giantess. Test your curse against her heart and see which emerges the stronger.

[Single Combat: 7. I spend two on position and one on defending myself, striking with 4 harm and 5armour]

You know that visions and forewarnings of the future are a natural part of the world. You further know, Constance, daughter of giants, that they are drawn to you like metal to a lodestone. It is for this reason that you walk like a madwoman to the tournament, your eyes unseeing, as if struck dumb by grief. Your mind reels and whirls as you feel the weight of what you have seen: death in Lostwithiel, war between the king and the duchess, Merlin reclaiming the treasure he left in your safekeeping. Will you fail, Constance? Is this your doing somehow? Or are you the only one who may avert it? Or is this fated to be, and your struggle against it will only bring it about?

No. You rally within yourself as you mount the steps, your feet sure on the path that has seared your eyes. If it will be, then you will struggle against it in vain hope. Better to take arms than to lay them aside.

The shocked face of the duchess swims before you. You are in the royal box, and this is where you are meant to be. There is the crack of lance upon lance, the crack of doom upon Lostwithiel.

“I see Lostwithiel stand against the crown,” you pronounce, too loud, too wild. “Against a black sea and a silver surf, the unicorn stands alone. I have seen a sword returned to its keeper; I have seen brother standing against sister. The land cries out its grief in days to come.” The words ignite in you; you stand tall and straight like a brand leaping to life against the night sky, and then just as suddenly crumple like ash. Your footing is unsteady; someone pulls you into their grasp to keep you from falling limp into the stands.

[An 8 — you fill the Duchess with faith, yet a complication arises.]

Tristan is pretty relieved that he didn't bring his polearm, after all. A long day would have been made longer for it. Now he can take his bow in both hands. He nocks an arrow and takes aim at the badger.

He has no killing intent, and the arrow will not fly. But he has been taught to calm his mind while firing and so stillness comes most naturally to him while he is aiming. The two are as practiced as each other now, and doing one leads most naturally to doing the other. When he draws, everything disappears but for him and the target. The field is gone - he is close enough to reach out and touch it.

[2d6+1=9 - I ask one:
I think the most useful question to ask here is:
What would this thing make the world into, if it only could?]

While Tristan focuses on the beast, Nin observes their surroundings (+Wary: 5+5+2 = 12), casting a wary eye for any clues or details easily missed. There must be something besides the beast itself to see here. What does she see?

Robena

Revel for a moment in being one of the greatest knights to ever serve Lostwithiel! Your arm is strong, your aim sure. If you were less well-armed or less committed to your skill, the Azure knight would be a terrifying opponent, one who might well slay a lesser knight or unhorse them in an instant. But for you, arranged in your majestic cloak and seated surely atop Apricot, there is little risk even against a cursed knight such as this.

The Azure knight spurs her horse to a gallop, sets her lance, but despite her skill and unnatural stillness, she realizes just before the approach that yours is the stronger charge. You can see that she has a moment to choose, a single instant to decide whether to set her shield and turn the blow, losing her balance in the process, or whether to take the blow head on and try to match you. For a moment, it appears as though she'll do the sane thing and protect herself from a severe wound, but in the last instant, she sets her lance straight and matches yours. As your lance penetrates her mail and strikes what is probably a rib, it breaks and you hear the first sound from her: a rough grunt that makes you think from its tenor that she may be lighter than she appears with her full armor. A small red stain turns her surcoat into a shade of purple. However, she does not lose her balance, but if she keeps up like this, she may well be killed.

Rearm yourself and tell us how you approach the second pass.

[The Azure knight spends 2: both on position. She inflicts 4 harm and has 3 armor, matching your position but suffering a wound in the process. From the tie, she will spend her full 3 on position in the next pass, intent on winning the contest at any cost to herself.]

Constance

You sway and the Master of Arms (what was his name, by the by?) stands and catches you. The Duchess Marianne looks at you with a mixture of frustration and hope. This is obviously the wrong time: you're late, disrupting the tournament, and anything she does to respond to your wild gestures now will force the jousting knights to stop, a deep disrespect to their contest. The Azure knight has not even spoken yet, and they are rearming for their second pass as you arrived. Cerwen is looking at you with obvious worry, the master of arms is trying gently but firmly to press you into your seat. Yet for all that, it's clear the Duchess wants to respond to you. She trusts you Constance, trusts the old ways, the visions, and the magic that runs through her veins. That trust, that faith in her heart is why Lostwithiel noticed the rot and stands against it now.

Press her now for a response and you'll strain that trust, you will be asking a great deal, but she will do it and let you offer a pronouncement to the tournament. Or, wait, sit, question her other advisors, show your grace towards the combatants and you may have a stronger position later. How urgent is your vision, lady?

Tristan

You tune out your surroundings, all your attention at the point of your arrow. You follow that imaginary shot as it strikes the badger, as the creature, surprised and wounded, might retreat into a tunnel. In your mind's eye you follow it underground, to cool mud and deep earth beneath the great roots of trees. If it had the health and the energy, it would dig forever, uprooting the fields and ruining the crops. It wants the weight of great trees above it, that dampness of the roots and the sense of weight that is its heart and home. It would ruin and destroy, make the world into empty, barren land from which new seeds would spread and grow until the forest overgrew it all. It is patient for such things and cares not for the starvation of people in how it wishes the world to be.

But you have not fired that shot, and all this dances only in your mind's eye.

Nin

[I gather the intended move is take stock, so I will answer as to the terrain and your options here]

You are in a large field of wheat. Its primary characteristic is that there is little variation: farmers working the land have made it flat, even, and thick with the stalks, though some are crushed or turned from the great badger. The soil is mostly dry, easy to move quietly and lightly with little sign even for the trained. Slipping away would be the easiest thing in the world, you could bring yourself to safety and further observe or follow the creature in near complete safety. That would be the simplest way to end this encounter, though it wouldn't solve your ultimate problem. Your strength is your surprise. The beast is surely strong enough to do you great harm if enraged, and once it knows itself to be in real danger, it may flee or attack aggressively, leaving you in uncertainty. So the best way to remain strong is to preserve your surprise and use it for the greatest possible effect. Perhaps a trap of some sort combined with Tristan's bow, though even that is unlikely to bring it down in a single blow, more likely to wound it badly and scare it off. That would solve the immediate urgency of the situation, perhaps giving you time to learn more, though you would need to be willing to severely wound the monster to do that.

Everyone's always gotta be a damn hero.

Many horses are quicker than Apricot on their hooves, but there isn't an equine in the world who can hold a candle to the speed with which he can come to a stop. He even lowers his head to chomp at a cluster of buttercups he saw by the side of the lists. It's an incredible act of disrespect but it's also a calculated one - her warhorse is smart enough to determine instantly when her heart is too conflicted to keep him under control. Horse like this can't be driven half-heartedly.

And Apricot's been here before. Some stupid kid who doesn't know when she's beaten, who thinks that 'skill' and 'determination' are magic balms that'll add two feet to their height and two hands to their biceps, up against a knight who's trying to figure out how to gently disabuse them. Sometimes a curse is involved, but it doesn't need to be. What's important is that Robena is too distracted to put her back into cussing him out, and that's the same as a ducal invitation to relax.

Robena grumbles and flicks the horse's ear irritably. He gives her a dirty look like she's the asshole here. Some squires are running over but Robena has already stepped down off the saddle and hefted her enormous wooden practice-ax over her shoulders. A forester's pose, never quite forgotten from her youth, held steady as she ponders.

She's abandoning the joust. There's only so much you can do to avoid hurting someone when several tonnes of charging horseflesh are involved. She's going to take this to the melee where her opponent has less control over what does and doesn't get hurt. She doesn't feel the need to justify this decision; everyone in attendance saw a knight drop their shield and take a body blow. Already the healers and wicker-wise will be rushing to check that nothing was pierced, but she doesn't doubt the Azure Knight will wave them off.

[Take Stock: 7. What can I observe about this curse, and what might break it?]

"I fear if I shoot it, it might flee where we can not follow." Tristan lets the string back slowly, still watching the badger as the peripheral world swims back into attention. "This is not what I would like it to be. I had hoped we could lead it home, and it would do no further harm. But I think it is offended by our presence here. If we wound it and it flees, it will be in great pain, and it will most likely exact a greater pain in retribution after some time. If we are to be about this ugly business, let it be decisive."

"We need the wind of surprise at our back to carry us. In that I see two options: I attack it with such fury it faces us. Or we trap it, and execute it. The second seems more sensible but... there is less virtue in it." Read: Killing something in a trap would make Tristan sad. "We may be at the limit of what can be gained from stalking. I see no further advantage we could gain, can think of no more favourable terrain to face it in."

The arrow is still nocked and steady, the owner is under more tension than the bow. Tristan will be indecisive until it is time to act. He does not want to be the one to call the hour.

What weighs on his mind is that he does not want Nin to get hurt in a fight, but he does not want to insult Nin by voicing this. He holds Nin in great respect, and would cut out his tongue than risk implying otherwise. It is only fair they get to decide the level of acceptable risk.

Oh, Constance! How your cheeks burn with shame when you come to yourself. This is undignified! You have made a scene! You take a seat, accepting a glass gratefully and sitting among the Duchess's advisors. You move your legs nervously, tempted to pull them close to yourself, silently willing everyone to turn their eyes away from you and back to the list.

Ah, the joust! Which has stopped being a joust; your champion has dismounted! You watch her with mingled shame and curiosity; shame that you still do not remember her name, but curiosity at seeing the way she handles that mock-ax. How will she handle it? Will she move with the irresistible strength of a mountain or the subtle grace of a river? Your heart is a faint and feeble thing in your chest, but still you watch.

"We'll lay a trap," says Nin, who is happy to make the decisions. "And then hit it with all we've got. With any luck, it'll decide to flee and spend some time licking its wounds, buying us time to figure out how to solve the problem permanently."

Tristan and Nin

You have a short time to quietly set some sort of trap. The creature is nearly finished with its meal of wheat and may rest a bit longer before it moves on. Once it does move, you'll have little difficulty tracking it it from here, but it will likely outpace you before it stops if it leaves before you're ready, resulting in a delay into the night or the need to rest and find it again come morning. At least there's no sign of rain this evening, so that is in your favor.

If you wish to attack it now, tell us about your trap and then take action!

Constance

The Duchess smiles at you in relief. "We'll talk later" she says, quietly so as not to draw attention to herself, then turns and waves to the combatants to continue the joust.

After you are seated, the master at arms (we'll say his name is Timothy) takes his place. He looks rather self-satisfied, you might judge, as though he's done his job properly getting you seated. You may wish at some point to correct his misplaced sense of duty. Cerwen, for her part, turns to you. "Are you well?" She asks, with some real concern, but quietly. "If the ceremony earlier was too much..." she trails off not entirely sure what to offer and covers it up with a sip of her wine. Her gaze drifts nervously to the joust as well, her eyes more for the Azure knight than for your champion.

Robena

What you've seen about this curse is that it blocked out the Azure Knight's senses and at the same time drove her to recklessness. From what you've seen in the wider world, these things are not unconnected. Her reckless behavior is a result of her altered perceptions, an inability to judge correctly perhaps. As such, your best route to break this curse is probably to remove her helm. It's both a literal and symbolic way of blocking out her senses and she has yet to raise her visor this whole time. You'll need to manage this decisively, she'll almost certainly lash out and aggressively wrestle you (quite probably even in defiance of honor) if you attempt to remove it slowly, so one swift and powerful move is your best bet.

"It would slash a net, and most likely tunnel under a pit trap, or stakes." He thinks about what he would do if the roles were reversed, how he'd press his advantages. "It would come up to attack me. If I start shooting it from a tree branch, it would be vulnerable while it is trying to climb for me, or trying to pull the tree down. That would be our opportunity. As long as it sees me, it will attack. And as long as it comes from below, to avoid my arrows, it will be blind to a trap on the surface."