The tactical council concerning the impending engagement drew to a close, yet despite the conclusion of the briefing, a heavy tension lingered over the officers.
Every leader within the vanguard desired to demonstrate their true prowess in this upcoming clash. They understood that a decisive, flawless victory on the snowfields would discourage minor scouting parties from seeking trouble during the long journey south, forcing potential adversaries to reconsider their hostility.
"But are you entirely certain it is wise to deploy Fafnir so early?" Talulah asked once the room had cleared, her brow furrowing with lingering doubt. "If she unleashes her gifts on the field, our enemies will instantly deduce that the entity who shifted the balance of power in Kazdel on behalf of Theresa is currently marching within our ranks."
The dragon leader remained hesitant. In her estimation, a minor border skirmish of this scale simply didn't warrant the exposure of their ultimate protector.
"Let them deduce whatever they wish," Jeanne replied smoothly, continuing to soothe the young child in her lap. "We cannot keep her existence shrouded in shadows forever. It is far better to let the truth erupt at a moment that yields the maximum strategic advantage for our people. Besides... Fafnir is exceptionally eager to participate this time. Isn't that right, little one?"
Hearing her name, the tiny girl instantly straightened up in Jeanne's arms, her voice ringing out with enthusiastic clarity: "You bet!"
The youngster's appetite for a proper challenge remained incredibly fierce. While a quiet, domestic life by the hearth was pleasant, it lacked the vibrant excitement she craved. She had been practically begging Jeanne for an opportunity to join the fray.
"Then I shall look forward to your grand display, Fafnir," Talulah remarked, a warm smile softening her features as she patted the child's head. "Once the conflict is settled, name whatever reward your heart desires, and this sister will find a way to procure it as a victory gift!"
Jeanne's lips twitched slightly at the grand promise, and she offered a quiet, highly cautious warning: "If I were in your position, Talulah, I would withdraw that pledge immediately, lest you find yourself drowning in profound regret."
The child's concept of a simple trinket began and ended with pure gold bullion. Given Talulah's current financial reserves, unless she intended to pack herself into a crate and sell her own leadership title to the highest bidder, she could never hope to afford a suitable tribute.
Talulah blinked her large eyes in pure confusion, entirely failing to grasp the hidden meaning behind the saint's words. However, she chose not to dwell on the matter.
No matter. I shall simply cover the expense from my own purse when the time comes, Jeanne mused silently. But she resolved to withhold the gold until after she had enjoyed the sight of Talulah's confident smile freezing into pure panic.
Cradling Fafnir, Jeanne stepped out of the room. Out of a touch of harmless mischief, she chose to leave the Draco leader entirely in the dark, thoroughly anticipating the awkward spectacle that awaited her friend.
Over the subsequent days, events unfolded precisely as the commanders had anticipated. The number of hostile scouts hovering around their path multiplied by the hour, and a few desperate agents even went so far as to intentionally contract the copper sickness just to blend in with the refugees and infiltrate the mobile city.
As the twin iron hulls pressed deeper into the tundra, the vanguard began detecting clear signs of organized military regiments, leading to a series of sharp, minor skirmishes along the ridges.
The nobility's private armies were operating with immense caution this time. Abandoning their historical arrogance and superior attitudes, the noble commanders treated Reunion as a peer adversary, executing their maneuvers with rigorous discipline.
Through these initial trials, the vanguard warriors finally witnessed the immense chasm that separated their raw enthusiasm from the polished, brutal efficiency of trained Ursus soldiers. Compared to the seasoned imperial veterans, their own lines were remarkably green.
The vanguard even suffered a handful of minor tactical reversals. Though the casualties were minor, the defeats dealt a severe blow to the populace's morale, successfully grounding the inflated confidence that had begun to fester within the ranks.
Throughout this difficult stretch, Talulah strictly forbade Jeanne from summoning her wyvern flights to salvage the encounters. She was determined to use these harsh lessons to show her people that they weren't nearly as invincible as they had permitted themselves to believe.
While Jeanne found it difficult to watch her comrades endure such arduous struggles, she respected Talulah's unyielding stance and remained a silent observer on the bridge, focusing her energies entirely on securing the central mobile district.
"Are you finding the days terribly tedious?" Talulah asked, glancing over at the saint who sat quietly beside her console. She could easily read the dark cloud hanging over her friend's spirit.
"A little," Jeanne admitted softly. "We possess the means to conclude these skirmishes in the blink of an eye, yet our warriors are forcing themselves through these grueling trials until their spirits are thoroughly depressed."
She looked through the viewport at the weary soldiers gathering in the courtyard below, many of them tending to fresh bandages while exchanging subdued, questioning murmurs about their true capabilities.
Unlike Patriot's veteran guerrillas who had been tempered by decades of systemic oppression, or the Sarkaz mercenaries who had known nothing but the flames of war since youth, these people were different.
The vast majority of the vanguards had begun life as ordinary citizens, cast out into the wilderness because of their affliction. They had taken up arms simply because Talulah had offered them a sanctuary worth fighting for.
"We have shielded them far too effectively, Jeanne," Talulah stated, walking over to join her at the window. Though a trace of sorrow lingered in her gaze, her expression quickly hardened into unyielding iron. "Just like the settlers in our old village, they were kept so secure that they subconsciously attributed our victories to their own natural strength. It is time for that beautiful illusion to shatter."
The Draco paused, her gaze sweeping over the injured personnel. "After our old home fractured, I spent many nights wondering why those neighbors turned on us so fiercely. The answer is simple: they overvalued their own significance."
Jeanne found herself entirely unable to dispute the logic. It was true; they had guarded these survivors too closely. With a permanent sanctuary to call home and a swarm of terrifying wyverns arriving to crush every major threat, how could the soldiers not develop an inflated sense of security?
"I failed to consider the long-term consequences in the past," Talulah continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. It felt less like she was convincing Jeanne and more like she was reinforcing her own internal resolve to maintain this painful discipline. "But on the road ahead, many of these units will be dispatched to distant territories to carry out our true work. Before they leave our shadow, they must learn to weather adversity on their own two feet."
"I understand, truly," Jeanne replied, waving a hand to dismiss her friend's lingering guilt. "Had I lacked faith in your vision, do you honestly believe I would sit here so quietly?"
She grasped the strategic necessity behind the hardship. Talulah's philosophy was sound; the saint couldn't remain a permanent savior rushing across the continent to extinguish every local fire. The movement had to learn independence.
Furthermore, enduring a minor check here within the familiar snowfields was a calculated risk. If a soldier's resolve completely disintegrated under the pressure, or if they chose to abandon the cause, the host could easily escort them back to the safe valley without issue.
"For this campaign, I shall remain entirely at your disposal," Jeanne stated, rising from her chair. "Simply speak the word when my strength is required. In the meantime, I shall tour the lower decks to see where my hands can be of use."
As the young saint stepped out into the corridors, the wounded warriors quietly parted to clear a path, offering respectful greetings as she passed.
Word had spread through the sectors that Miss Jeanne—who had poured her life's blood into their historical triumphs—was currently recovering from physical exhaustion, leaving her temporarily unable to command her colossal beasts on the field.
Consequently, no one dared disturb her focus, watching the young lady with quiet reverence while offering silent prayers for her swift restoration.
These recent defeats had forced a brutal realization upon the soilders: the true, terrifying core of their movement's strength resided entirely within this young saint and the mysterious entities she commanded. Left to their own devices, they were little more than a cheering squad.
Yet, through these continuous setbacks, the arrogant boasts that had once echoed through the barracks vanished entirely. The foolish declarations of single-handedly crushing regular regiments and easily overtaking mobile capitals were replaced by a solemn, mature understanding of the immense chasm that lay between themselves and a true imperial host.
The transformation Talulah had sought was finally taking root. Having recognized their individual flaws, the vanguard warriors were finally applying themselves to mastering tactical discipline, allowing the organization to achieve true maturity.
As the twin iron hulls pressed forward through constant engagements, they drew steadily closer to a narrow passage where the noble armies had established a formidable defense line—a treacherous expanse of the northern snowfields known as the Derick Fissure.