When Jeanne heard the news from Kal'tsit, she remained seated, completely rendered speechless. It was less that she was stunned by Pope Yvangelista's audacity, and more that she hadn't anticipated the supreme head of Laterano executing a move this radical.
Inviting a Sarkaz into the holy city of Laterano was a feat utterly unprecedented in the long, blood-soaked history between the two races. It was a extraordinarily high-stakes gamble on the old man's part.
Yet any high-stakes gamble meant shouldering tremendous risk. A single misstep could reduce the proposed global council—and any hope of unified alliance—into a laughingstock before the ink even dried, forfeiting the world's attention.
"That old man... really has nerves of steel," Jeanne remarked after a long, stunned silence, genuinely shaken by the Pope's sheer nerve. "And Kazdel actually agreed?"
"Why shouldn't we?" Kal'tsit replied naturally. "The reborn state of Kazdel seeks no pointless conflicts. Finding a platform where our voice can be heard is extraordinarily rare. What possible reason could we have to decline? Were we supposed to fear that Pope Yvangelista would order our envoy bound in chains the moment they step foot inside the gates?"
Jeanne stared at Kal'tsit, unable to tell whether the feline was stating a grim historical reality or indulging in dry humor. Uncertain of the hidden meaning behind the comment, Jeanne simply nodded along.
"So who do you plan to send as your envoy?" Jeanne asked, curious about who among the Sarkaz would volunteer for a mission fraught with such absolute uncertainty—a assignment where a full return was far from guaranteed.
"The volunteer has already stepped forward," Kal'tsit answered calmly. "Someone you know quite well—Elite Operator Logos."
"Logos? Isn't he..."
"Indeed. King of the Banshee Royal Court, Lord of the Banshees," Kal'tsit confirmed. "We have demonstrated equivalent good faith on our end. Dispatching a figure of his stature is an immense risk for Kazdel as well."
It was evident from Kal'tsit's tone that even she had been caught off guard by Logos stepping forward to claim the assignment, given the overwhelming hazards involved.
"This is almost impossible to imagine," Jeanne muttered, shaking her head. "I've only been away for a short while, yet both sides have transformed into high-stakes gamblers throwing everything onto the table."
The pace of the world was accelerating at a staggering speed. Events that previously would have taken years of grueling diplomacy to achieve were unfolding in a matter of weeks.
Was she simply falling behind the times? Jeanne refused to accept the idea that she was getting old; she was a nineteen-year-old young woman, after all!
"Because the window of opportunity has opened," Kal'tsit noted, her gaze resting on Jeanne. She remained unbothered by the girl's silent internal crisis, well aware that Jeanne's true chronological age could make her own grandmother look young.
Having someone around whose historical lifespan exceeded her own was a truly novel experience. Looking at the Saintess who continually brought bizarre revelations to her desk, Kal'tsit's eyes softened slightly.
"While this coming calamity may not strike every nation with equal ferocity, a disaster threatening to sweep across the continent will force world leaders to make concessions—provided they aren't foolish enough to cling to their pride while the world burns around them."
Kal'tsit paused, her eyes dimming slightly as a sudden realization hit her. Was she genuinely holding out hope for career politicians? Her own cynical warnings had a nasty habit of turning into reality.
"Even if a few stubborn leaders refuse, it hardly changes the outcome," Kal'tsit added, shaking off the dark thought. "Yan and Ursus have both shown unusual signs of willing participation. That alone guarantees the summit's functional success, regardless of whether smaller nations attend."
Hearing that both Yan and Ursus were stepping up to the table didn't particularly surprise Jeanne. Kashchey had undoubtedly pulled strings behind the scenes in Ursus, while Yan possessed a vast coastline of its own—their officials had likely noticed the disturbing shifts in Seaborn activity already.
"Did I really just take a trip to Iberia?" Jeanne mumbled, rubbing her temples. "Or did I somehow step onto a high-speed engine into the future?"
"Sometimes, the world shifts while you sleep," Kal'tsit said with a light shrug, entirely unphased by rapid political tides. "It is best to take it in stride."
She leaned back, her sharp eyes fixing on Jeanne. "When the time comes, I must ask you to look after our envoy. While I hold no doubt regarding Pope Yvangelista's vision and character, I harbor deep reservations about the lingering hatred stored within the populace."
Kal'tsit was not naive enough to entrust Logos's safety entirely to Laterano's goodwill. The Pope would do his utmost to safeguard the Sarkaz envoy, but that wouldn't stop individuals consumed by ancestral grudges from taking matters into their own hands.
Jeanne was their secondary safeguard. Her presence alone would cause many would-be assassins to hesitate, though there remained the risk that her protection might draw extra hostility toward herself.
"Consider it done," Jeanne agreed without a second thought. Protecting a guest of Laterano—especially one taking such a momentous step toward peace—was a duty she accepted without hesitation.
As the two wrapped up their discussion, a sudden wave of chaotic noise echoed from the corridor outside, sounding as though a large crowd had gathered to pull off something absurd.
Kal'tsit's office was situated in a relatively quiet module of the vessel; for the noise to penetrate here meant the central decks outside were likely in utter turmoil.
"What's going on out there? Are we under attack?" Jeanne asked, turning toward the door. Yet the clamor lacked the metallic clang of combat or the tension of an alert.
It sounded suspiciously like a raucous celebration, prompting Jeanne to drop her guard and sit back down, looking to Kal'tsit for an explanation.
"I explicitly instructed those fools..." Kal'tsit groaned, pressing a palm against her forehead in deep regret. "...to keep the noise to a minimum if they insisted on holding an event! Such an uproar is entirely unsuitable for a vessel carrying recovering patients!"
She deeply regretted approving the gathering in the first place. Given an inch, her operators had predictably turned the main deck into a madhouse.
"A celebration? I didn't see any preparations earlier," Jeanne said, genuinely puzzled. When she had boarded the vessel, the outer staging decks had been completely empty.
"It's for Logos," Kal'tsit explained with a long-suffering sigh. "Word got out about his journey to Laterano, and the operators wanted to throw him a send-off. They hounded me until I granted permission..."
"So... what exactly is this send-off event?" Jeanne asked, unable to contain her curiosity seeing the master physician so thoroughly defeated by her own staff.
"An office-chair sliding tournament," Kal'tsit muttered, the words leaving her lips as if reciting a deep personal tragedy. Her face contorted into a rare expression of pure conflict.
"Huh?" Jeanne blinked, wondering if her hearing had failed her. An office-chair sliding tournament?! A ridiculous activity that sounded like it required a severe lack of common sense was being held aboard Rhodes Island?!
Was she truly on Rhodes Island, or had she accidentally stepped back onto the streets of Laterano? A contest that sounded absurd from its title to its execution felt far more at home in the Land of Angels!
"You heard correctly," Kal'tsit added glumly. "To be precise... it is the Second Annual Office-Chair Sliding Tournament."
This nonsense has a predecessor?! Jeanne stared at Kal'tsit, silently wondering if the feline had accidentally consumed a batch of stale catnip before approving the request. This was completely out of character for the usually rigid doctor!
In Jeanne's memory, the most bizarre sporting events she had ever encountered were Laterano's wheelchair sniper tournaments and donut marksmanship tournaments —but that was Laterano!
Absurd as the concept was, Jeanne found her curiosity piqued. She definitely wanted to catch a glimpse of the spectacle.
Of course, participating in it was entirely off the table!