The following hour was a whirl of activity. Men rushed the stage, actors snarling as if they were wolves set upon by hounds, and Kasimir stood between Eleanor, or Emmaline, and the crowd with his sword at the ready. Ulric knew he had a lot of questions, not to mention a mountain of pent-up frustration at the woman, but her gambit had worked, and he at least knew she wasn't a Chaos Worshiper, which was more than he could say about an uncomfortable amount of people after the debacle. Had he been alone, he might have been more traumatized by the eldritch and untold things he had witnessed within that pocket realm, but he was too busy to think and too alert to be distracted. 

The Knights of the White Wolf soon quarantined the entire theater, and even what small handful of Sigmarite priests there were had been called forward to help cleanse the place of any taint. Boris Todbringer had been at the back of the crowd, but had been escorted out by his most trusted guard, though not without complaint. You'd hardly find a more staunch foe of the dark gods than him. After his bastard and the Countess of Aberville had been escorted out, they had been sent to their rooms until asked for questioning, only to be stopped halfway back by the Witch Hunter, the questioning evidently starting at that moment. 

Emmaline had grabbed Kasimir's hand as they were escorted to a small, guard chamber, and mouthed she would do the talking once they were there. He gave a subtle wink and turned back, whatever guard watching would likely think it was a correspondence of fondness rather than pragmatism. Once they reached the room, Emmaline had taken out a small fan, and whipped it back and forth to fan herself as she recounted a basterdized tale of what had occurred in her faux brettonian. Now that he knew she was a fake, he could hear some subtle mistakes here or there in her speech, but overall he was impressed how flawless she was in speaking it. By her account, they had not been transported to a daemon realm, but had instead been attacked by cultists who had hidden themselves in large clay pots of trees, set for stage design. Apparently one of them had been a dabbler of foul magics, and had performed some ritual that had let the paintings along the backdrop come to life. When questioned how the count and her protector had come through the imaginary yet animated work of art, she explained she simply did not know, and that it must have been some ruinous trick the sorcerer had played. A priest of Ulric and a Sigmarite priest both then stood before them, incanting to find if there was any taint upon the two of them. Kasimir saw Emmaline's eyes filled with fear, and he knew that part she did not need to act. 

"They have no corruption upon them, though their humours are troubled." The Sigmarite said, lifting his hand from Kasimir's brow and opening his eyes. 

"It's been quite a day, your holiness." Kasimir responded diplomatically. "Before this, we had been attacked twice. Hopefully, the White Wolves will see to it that this vile activity is expunged." 

It grated him to give the credit to someone else, but he supposed if he was going to tell his father the whole truth of it at some point. Then he glanced at Emmaline, who seemed relieved. He wondered then if he was going to tell the Graf about her deception? He was not sure. By all rights he should, but perhaps tomorrow. 

"I will speak with you both, further. But that suffices for now." The Witch Hunter said, looking down and them past his nose. Kasimir felt those eyes could see through anything, and though Emmaline had lied throughout all of it, he still hoped it was true. Maybe he could catch or kill any cultist or daemon that was left and leave Kasimir and Emmaline alone. When both the charlatan Countess and the bastard nodded their acquiescence, they were allowed to return to their connected rooms.  

Kasimir opened the door for Emmaline, bowing to her as if he were a gentleman courtier vying for her favor. She walked passed him, and he closed the door to let the men discuss this entire situation further. A servant hurried by, and Kasimir halted him with a finger. "We require dinner, good sir. The lady is famished." 

"Et du vin, er...drink!" Emmaline chimed in with a sweet smile. 

"Y-Yes my lady, my lord." The sweating servant replied, bowing before hustling away to first complete whatever task he was trying to get done on this hectic night.