Jeanne looked at the nostalgic expression on Outcast's face. She knew perfectly well that deep down, the old woman truly wanted to return to Laterano for a visit, and she was certain Laterano wouldn't turn away an elderly Sankta who just wanted to see her homeland one last time.
Even if this Sankta currently worked for an organization led by the Demon King of Kazdel, she hadn't broken any of Laterano's laws. No one back home would attack an old woman just for that.
The real reason Outcast refused to go back was entirely her own choice. She was afraid that if she stepped foot in her homeland again, she would never want to leave. And that simply didn't fit the path she had chosen for her life.
After all, Laterano was a place people called a paradise. What corner of the world could possibly be better suited for an elderly Sankta to live out her twilight years? There simply wasn't one.
"Let's not talk about sad things," Outcast said with a gentle laugh, shaking off the mood. "I'm actually quite satisfied with my life right now. Besides, the people at Babel don't go around attacking Sankta merchant caravans. Here, would you like a muffin? I'm actually pretty proud of my baking skills."
She pulled a small bag of treats from her pocket and offered it to Jeanne. Jeanne blinked in surprise—she couldn't believe the old woman had actually managed to find real sugar in a place like this!
Jeanne knew exactly how rare and precious sugar was across the nations of Terra. It was even more of a luxury in a fractured country like Kazdel, where basic supplies were dangerously scarce. Over here, sugar was used for medical or industrial purposes, but almost never for food.
"Oh, a Sankta merchant I know brought this to me," Outcast explained, noticing the look of shock in Jeanne's eyes. "If it weren't for them, I wouldn't dare buy sugar around Kazdel. A single pound of white sugar here would cost me half a month's salary."
The sweets had actually been prepared specifically to welcome Jeanne. On a normal day, Outcast usually stuck to sugar substitutes for her afternoon tea. Even though she was an elite operator making a very handsome living, she wasn't wealthy enough to eat real sugar every day like she used to back in Laterano.
"Thank you... It tastes really good." Jeanne pulled a clean handkerchief from her pocket, using it to pick up a muffin so she wouldn't touch it directly. After fighting through the mud all night, she was absolutely starving and her body desperately needed the sugar.
Honestly, the proper way to enjoy a sweet treat like this was to sit in a quiet room with a hot cup of tea, slowly tasting the sugar, rather than using it as a makeshift breakfast on a battlefield.
But their current surroundings didn't exactly allow for a proper tea party, and Jeanne wasn't in the mood to act elegant anyway. The physical exhaustion from the last few hours was hitting her hard, and she couldn't even find a place to wash her hands. No matter how careful she had been while fighting off the Sarkaz, her hands were still stained with dried blood. That was the only reason she used the handkerchief—she didn't want to get the food dirty.
"That pink-haired Sarkaz... she's the Demon King, Theresa, right?" Jeanne asked between bites, looking out toward the middle of the field. The pale-haired woman was standing a distance away, seemingly negotiating over something. Jeanne turned to the kind Sankta next to her, her voice laced with curiosity. "What is she doing out there right now? Trying to get those mercenaries to surrender?"
The Lupo boss who ran the transport convoy was standing out there too. A look of raw anger and helpless frustration washed over his face as he glared fiercely at the mercenary captains, looking like a man forced to make a choice he absolutely hated.
Seeing the scene play out, Jeanne wondered if the Demon King was trying to mediate the conflict between the two sides. But how was that even possible? Two groups that had been trying to slaughter each other just a few minutes ago were suddenly supposed to shake hands and make peace? It seemed completely ridiculous.
Even Theresa had a deeply conflicted look in her eyes. It seemed the Demon King herself didn't have a perfect solution for how to settle this. The entire group was stuck in a tense standoff, and it looked like neither side was willing to take a single step back.
"Yes, that's Theresa, the leader of Babel," Outcast replied softly, her eyes tracking the negotiation. "As for what they're doing? I suppose she's hoping to convince both sides to drop the matter and walk away. After all, those mercenaries took a massive number of casualties too."
Outcast's words laid out the Demon King's true intentions. Theresa wasn't keeping the standoff alive because she wanted to recruit the mercenaries; she was terrified that the moment Babel left, these killers would track down the convoy to seek revenge.
The mercenaries had suffered a horribly humiliating defeat today. If they didn't find someone to vent their rage on, it would mean they were incredibly kind-hearted, honest people—and knowing the types that wandered Kazdel, the chances of that were practically zero.
An ordinary, defenseless transport convoy would be the perfect target for them to take out their anger. There was no way they would just let the drivers go.
"Then why doesn't she just wipe those Sarkaz out?" Jeanne asked, her brow furrowing. "If you just get rid of them, you don't have to waste your breath trying to convince them. The chances of them attacking again would be zero... Oh, wait. I see."
Jeanne's first instinct was to simply eliminate the threat entirely. Why waste time talking to a bunch of raiders? But the moment the words left her mouth, the real reason clicked in her mind.
Because Theresa was the Demon King of the Sarkaz. Since the very moment she stepped into the spotlight, her entire goal had been to stop the bloodshed. She clearly wasn't the type of leader who wanted to see her own people suffer massive losses, no matter what side they fought on.
No matter how merciful or kind she was to outsiders, she was still the ruler of the Sarkaz. Executing her own subjects just to protect a foreign merchant convoy she happened to be working with... that simply wasn't something a Demon King could do.
It wasn't impossible to understand, and it wasn't like she was entirely taking the mercenaries' side either. Raiders attacking transport trucks wasn't exactly a rare sight in these lands; these guys had just been incredibly unlucky and slammed face-first into a brick wall this time.
Still, Jeanne couldn't help but feel bad for the Lupo boss. His own men had been slaughtered by these raiders, and now he was forced to stand there and negotiate a truce with the killers. Looking at the look on his face, it smiled grimly and accepted it.
"I'm going to go check on the others," Jeanne said quietly, turning away from the meeting to walk toward the surviving transport workers who were huddling together. She wanted to see if anyone needed her help.
Jeanne had been standing quite a distance away from them. During the worst of the night attack, she had single-handedly held down this entire side of the perimeter, meaning she had been separated from the main group for hours.
As she drew closer, she noticed that the workers looked completely drained, their energy entirely spent. Yet, a faint light flickered in their eyes—the raw, undeniable relief of having survived the night. Almost every single one of them was covered in cuts and bruises.
It was clear that even with Jeanne carrying the brunt of the weight, the drivers had lived through an incredibly brutal struggle. The ugly, raw burns left behind by enemy Arts spellcraft made that painfully obvious.
"How is everyone holding up?" Jeanne asked, stepping up to one of the drivers.
The man froze for a second when he saw her, staring blankly as if he hadn't fully registered that the famous warrior was talking directly to him. Jeanne didn't push him; she just stood there quietly, waiting for him to find his voice.
"Ah... not great," the driver muttered, his eyes dimming as he looked down at the mud. "Just about everyone is hurt to some degree. Those monsters attacked so hard... we didn't even have a way to fight back..."
A heavy sorrow rolled off him. It was obvious from the hollow look in his eyes that he had lost close friends in the chaos of the night. Jeanne opened her mouth, but she realized she didn't know what words could possibly comfort him. He was the one living through the loss, and that kind of pain was something only he could truly feel.
"But... I guess it doesn't matter," the man added, his voice dropping to a bitter sigh. "People in our line of work are used to dealing with this kind of thing. Everyone's going to die sooner or later anyway. It's just... a bit hard to take it all in right now..."
As the driver muttered his frustrations, the Lupo caravan boss walked back over to the huddle, his face dark with silent rage. He slumped down onto a crate without a word, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, smoking heavily as he nursed his anger.
Seeing the boss in such a terrible mood, the rest of the workers went perfectly quiet. They gathered around, quietly watching the subtle, tense shifts in the Lupo's expression, hoping to read what had happened during the meeting.
But the boss didn't offer an explanation. He just sat there in absolute silence, lost in his own thoughts, making it very clear that he had zero intention of speaking to anyone. The workers didn't dare ask.
Everyone already knew how this negotiation was going to turn out. No one wanted to press the issue and make an already miserable morning feel even worse, so the entire group simply sat there in a heavy silence.
The suffocating atmosphere was heavy. Realizing that these people desperately wanted to change the subject and avoid talking about the truce, Jeanne decided not to push any further. She quietly turned and slipped away from the huddle, leaving them to their peace.