Based on the description from the Ursus citizen, it was easy to guess that the city had been invaded by two different forces in succession. The discipline of the latter group was clearly far inferior to the former. It seemed evident that a political struggle was at play here. This city wasn't particularly important; it was likely just a small pawn sacrificed in the conflict.
The four of them sat there, contemplating these issues. However, in the end, even knowing the specifics didn't mean much, as they couldn't change anything. As for how it affected them, it mostly meant Mostima would have to file a thick report later. This time, however, Fiammetta—now officially designated the Dawn Destroyer—firmly rejected Mostima's request for help with the paperwork. Whether her resolve would hold remained to be seen; according to Mostima's experience, a few sweet words usually sufficed to get her friend to relent.
Ultimately, unable to do much else, they gathered usable supplies and left small portions along each road before driving away from the desolate city. They knew that many people were still hiding in the shadows, like frightened little animals afraid to interact with the outside world. This was why the city appeared so desolate. Perhaps in a few days, once the survivors ran out of their own food, they would emerge to scavenge. They hoped these supplies would help and that these people would continue to struggle and survive.
They didn't take much food themselves, and the invaders seemingly hadn't been interested in it either. If distributed properly, there was more than enough for the survivors to last for a while.
"The food we've collected isn't enough to get us to the border. More importantly, our energy reserves are critical. We still need to find a city for a refill," Fiammetta said after calculating their current supplies. Taking less food was a minor issue—they could just tighten their belts. But the energy reserve was the real problem. This wasn't a matter of simply tossing raw Originium into the engine; it required processed, safe Originium products. This meant detouring to another nomadic city. For them, time was a luxury they didn't have much of.
"Don't worry, leave it to me! We'll make it to Laterano on time," Jeanne said, looking back at her. Her confidence stemmed from her power of Revelation. If the Revelation told her they wouldn't be late, then they wouldn't be late! Even if the system "glitched" occasionally, the information provided was absolutely accurate.
"Look at the road! Watch the road!" Fiammetta yelled, seeing Jeanne turn around while driving at such high speeds.
Directly ahead was a solitary, massive tree. Judging by its scarred and battered bark, it had been the site of many a traffic accident. Yet, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, Jeanne maneuvered the steering wheel to avoid the much-abused tree, sparing it another scar. Fiammetta couldn't help but think that the tree was remarkably resilient to have survived so many impacts.
"Whew, that gave me a fright." Fiammetta breathed a sigh of relief. She had heard the car was sturdy, but she wasn't eager to test if it would break upon impact. Her only wish now was to return to Laterano safely. If necessary, she was willing to sacrifice the music discs she'd bought for the "old man" as a peace offering to fate.
She recalled Jeanne's earlier comment about Sankta driving being too stimulating. Did Jeanne truly not realize that her own driving was even more heart-pounding? Fiammetta felt that if she sat in this car much longer, she'd develop a heart condition. But they were at Jeanne's mercy now; if Fiammetta drove, they would definitely be two or three days late.
"I think flying is faster than running on the ground! Jeanne, can't you have those Wyverns pick up the car and carry us there?" Mostima suggested. If Jeanne could do it, they'd reach Laterano by the day after tomorrow.
"Mostima!" Fiammetta snapped. She was vehemently opposed—not just because the sight of Wyverns might cause the Laterano Defense Force to overreact, but for personal reasons.
"Sorry, I forgot Fiammetta is afraid of heights," Lemuen teased from the back seat. The other two couldn't help but laugh. Fiammetta had kept this a secret, and they'd only discovered it after a mission involving a high mountain where she had been too afraid to look down.
Jeanne was surprised. A Liberi who was afraid of heights? It was a good thing she didn't have wings to fly, or what would she do?
"Technically, I'm not afraid of heights. It's just a stress response when looking down from somewhere too high. And I've already adapted!" Fiammetta argued. She realized Mostima was just teasing her for fun, but she still felt the need to defend her dignity.
"Right, right. Not afraid of heights. Just 'not adapted,'" Mostima said, following along to keep Fiammetta in a good enough mood to help with the reports later.
Several days later, they finally entered Laterano territory. At this speed, they would see Laterano City in a few hours. Fiammetta was stunned—Jeanne had actually made it before the holiday! In fact, they were several days early.
Thinking of Jeanne's wild driving style—keeping the pedal pressed into the floorboards the entire time—Fiammetta understood how they'd done it, though she never wanted to experience it again. Even Mostima remarked that only a car this oddly built could survive such a trip without being scrapped. By the end, Fiammetta had stopped reminding Jeanne to watch the road; she'd either gotten used to the talking or realized that at those speeds, watching the road didn't matter anyway.
Fiammetta still didn't understand how Jeanne had navigated to that one specific nomadic city for fuel without any prior information. The city hadn't even planned to stop there; the decision had been made just hours before they arrived. It was as if Jeanne had foresight. Mostima and Lemuen seemed to take it in stride, leaving Fiammetta feeling like the only sane person in the group.
At the border, the guards looked over their documents and whispered about the strange vehicle. "Who designed this? Wouldn't they starve to death?"
They didn't realize that the designer and the one who authorized its production were one and the same: their respected Pope.