The two women remained in the room sharing a quiet conversation, their talk drifting over light domestic affairs. They spoke of Talulah's latest breakthroughs, the antics of the village children, and... Jeanne.
Both of them harbored a deep, lingering anxiety for their companion, who hadn't established a proper connection with them in months. It wasn't a simple fear for her physical safety; given Jeanne's extraordinary martial prowess, very few threats on Terra could ever hope to best her in a direct clash.
Yet, force of arms could not resolve every crisis. Their true concern was whether she might stumble into some calculated snare engineered by the factions in the shadows. Talulah understood all too well how utterly terrifying political conspiracies could be.
If orchestrated with enough malice, a rumor or a hidden plot could drive even the most honorable soul to despair. They maintained complete faith that the Queen of Kazdel would never stoop to such underhanded measures, but the world was filled with treacherous actors operating in the dark.
Take a monster like Kashchey, for instance. A creature of his caliber required zero physical violence to fracture the stability of an entire mobile metropolis, or to manipulate a righteous individual into self-destruction.
If Jeanne had run into an adversary of that caliber, it would easily explain her prolonged silence. Talulah didn't even want to consider what hardships her friend might be enduring, harboring only the silent hope that she possessed the strength to unravel the knot safely.
Talulah let out a heavy sigh, shifting slightly in her chair. Lately, these dark scenarios had been invading her thoughts with alarming frequency, leaving her wondering what truly sparked this underlying dread. Was she merely terrified of Jeanne facing a danger she couldn't see?
Get a grip on yourself, Talulah! she commanded inwardly. Jeanne is more than capable of navigating these trials. Besides, she is hardly standing alone in this world; she has guardians who would protect her without a single demand. These anxieties are entirely groundless...
"There is truly zero reason to worry over Jeanne," Alina murmured, noticing how Talulah had completely lost her appetite. She easily traced the hidden current of anxiety running through her friend's mind—the fear of a companion facing a crisis in some distant land while they remained entirely oblivious. "Though she might act a bit whimsical or child-like during ordinary days, she invariably unearths the perfect resolution whenever a genuine crisis surfaces. We simply need to maintain our faith in her."
"You speak the truth. That woman is remarkably resilient," Talulah replied, a faint smile finally gracing her lips. Alina's gentle reassurance acted like a balm, causing the tight tension in her features to melt away.
"When she finally makes her return, I am burning with curiosity to see how our new Sarkaz recruits will react!" Alina added with a chuckle. "The feats she achieved during this expedition are anything but small. Our new Sarkaz companions are incredibly eager to offer her their profound gratitude."
Talulah nodded, recalling the recent discussions ripple through the camps. The newly arrived Sarkaz refugees were practically ecstatic over the news that Jeanne had assisted Theresa in reclaiming their homeland. A few passionate veterans had even dropped to their knees, bowing deeply toward the distant horizon of Kazdel to honor her name.
Even if the continuous strife had forced them to flee their ancestral borders, that land remained their foundation—a territory steeped in immense historical significance for their kind.
Learning that their fractured nation was steadily returning to a stable path was the most exhilarating news these displaced souls could have ever hoped to receive.
Even the old General, Patriot, had been operating in a noticeably lighter mood of late! Both Talulah and FrostNova had caught the subtle shift, even though the veteran commander maintained his customary, stoic facade, pretending the foreign campaigns were of zero consequence to his daily routines.
According to the reports FrostNova gathered from the frontline Shieldguards, the old soldier was in such high spirits that whenever he found himself alone in his private quarters, he would softly hum traditional Sarkaz melodies.
When the news first reached the leadership circle, it sparked a wave of sheer astonishment. Yet, upon deeper reflection, it was entirely understandable. An old warrior taking comfort in a few melodies because his homeland was healing wasn't an impossible concept... though it was undeniably a rare spectacle.
Talulah had noted the change firsthand. The veteran general spoke with a gentler tone during their recent strategy briefings, and he had begun keeping a close watch on the welfare of the incoming Sarkaz factions—a matter he usually left to the sub-commanders.
Regrettably, the intelligence they managed to extract from Kazdel remained severely limited. Beyond the brief details Jeanne had shared during their rare audio connections, their only data came from rumors filtering through the nearby imperial cities.
And what did those urban administrators truly know of the deep wilderness? Their information was even scarcer than Reunion's; Talulah occasionally found herself in a position where she could comfortably feed intelligence to those municipal networks.
The stark lack of connectivity forced her to realize that establishing a dedicated intelligence network across the territories was a paramount necessity. If they possessed active eyes and ears outside the tundra, she wouldn't be reduced to sitting idly within the mountains, completely cut off from the wider world.
Musing over the immense mountain of labor ahead, Talulah felt the sheer weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her shoulders, joking internally that the scales on her tail were losing their luster from pure stress. This is entirely Jeanne's fault!
Swaying her tail with a small grumble, she continued sipping her porridge, resolving that the moment the woman returned, she would saddle her with an immense ledger of administrative assignments... Though, when on earth is she actually coming home?
During their last voice transmission, the silver-haired girl hadn't dropped a single hint regarding a departure date, making it seem as though a return layout wasn't even on her radar for months to come.
In reality, Jeanne had established a firm plan before setting out, deliberately keeping the details close to her chest during their last communication. She wanted nothing more than to present them with a magnificent surprise the moment she rolled past the village gates!
At this exact moment, Jeanne had already crossed the threshold into the Ursus winter sector. She was presently steering her heavy transport across the frozen wastes, pressing the accelerator in a bid to reach the settlement before the evening hearths cooled; she had grown deeply homesick for the warm, seasoned broths Alina frequently brewed.
Yet, tracking the position of the moon, she calculated that according to the village's strict evening schedule, the two women had likely already concluded their dinner. It appeared her hopes of making it back before twilight had collapsed.
The primary culprit was the immense distance, coupled with the frustrating necessity of charting wide detours to evade the wandering Patrols. Had she been anywhere else on the continent, Jeanne wouldn't have hesitated to dismantle those annoying enforcers on sight.
However, these specific units moved along structured patrol lines tightly bounding the resistance settlements. If she wiped them out completely, the high command would inevitably deploy a heavier garrison to investigate, resulting in immense complications for the nearby civilian villages.
Yet, compared to the nuisance of the imperial patrols, a far more agonizing puzzle was twisting Jeanne's thoughts into a knot: How on earth am I supposed to introduce Fafnir to Talulah?
"Look, Talulah! I embarked on a brief journey and brought you back a spectacular souvenir! Care to guess what it is? It's a child!"
Jeanne shuddered, realizing that if she opted for such a blunt delivery, Talulah—even knowing she lacked the strength to best her in a duel—would find a hundred creative ways to make her daily existence thoroughly miserable. That dragon possessed a legendary talent for harboring grudges, and one could never predict when or where her quiet retaliation would strike.
But what other option did she have? The reality was that Fafnir looked precisely like a miniature, scaled-down duplicate of Talulah, save for a few distinct traits mirrored from Jeanne's own features—such as her unique eye color. The child resembled nothing less than a perfect structural fusion of the two women.
She could already visualize the collective meltdown within the encampment. The rank-and-file would immediately assume that Jeanne had ventured into the deep wilderness only to return with a biological offspring shared with their leader, sparking wild rumors that the medical technology of Kazdel had achieved a miraculous breakthrough.
The sheer absurdity of the scenario left Jeanne feeling thoroughly stressed. For a fleeting moment, an intense desire to abort her approach washed over her. Should I perhaps redirect our course toward Lungmen for a few months until a better stratagy surfaces?
No, that would only compound the misunderstanding down the road...
She fiercely shook her head, casting the chaotic thoughts from her mind. Whatever happens, happens! There was zero use agonizing over a future hurdle; if the situation spiraled completely out of control, she would simply dump the entire administrative mess onto Talulah's desk and let the leader sort it out.
Jeanne focused her gaze forward, navigating the treacherous terrain. Driving through a pitch-black, moonlit tundra without utilizing the high-beam lanterns was a maneuver that would have resulted in a swift demise for any ordinary traveler.
Yet, given that this was the exceptionally capable Jeanne behind the wheel, the feat was entirely within her parameters. As the transport crested a jagged ridge, the distant, warm glow of the settlement's torches finally flickered along the horizon.